Meddling with a Millionaire (2 page)

Her gaze had shot to him as if he'd released the wolf whistle hovering in his mind. When their eyes locked, all casual thoughts went out of his head. He targeted her like a jungle cat sighting a leggy gazelle and had her out the door and in his car before an hour had passed.

He'd kept his hands to himself until they arrived back at his condo. But once inside, his lips captured hers. He'd been caught off guard by their first kiss. He'd expected more expertise, not the tentative, sensual attack of her fingers against his face, through his hair. Emma acted like a woman who hadn't been kissed in a long time, or at least not one who had been kissed properly.

He'd gone slightly mad then. Nothing else could explain why he'd been too impatient to carry her to his bedroom and take the time to savor every inch of her skin. He'd burned for her and she'd matched his intensity. It amazed him that they hadn't set the foyer on fire.

The next time they made love it would be on a mattress, with her naked and sprawled out to await his pleasure—and hers.

She was a woman worth appreciating.

“Shall I tell you what I'm going to do to you?”

Her breath caught on a quick inhalation. “No.”

Yet despite her denials, she didn't push him away. So he capitalized on her ambivalence, using words as a prelude to action.

“First, I'm going to strip you out of your very sexy dress.” He grazed his knuckles along her side where the zipper started below her armpit and ended at her hip.

She made a grab for his hand, but he brushed her fingers aside. Her attempt to stop him had been halfhearted at best. Already her resistance was dissolving beneath the heat of this thing between them.

“Then, starting with the spot on your shoulder that drives you crazy when I kiss it, I'm going to take my time with you.” He hoped this was working on her because he was driving himself crazy. “You're not getting away until I put my hands and my mouth on every inch of you.”

He shifted his grip lower, drawing her tight against the unruly tension in his loins. His breath slipped out in a half sigh, half groan as she rotated her hips against the pressure of his hands.

“Are you wearing the black thong and strapless bra again? Or something different?”

His palms itched, and his fingers tingled as he remembered the way her nipples had hardened as he learned the shape of her full breasts. Tonight's midnight-blue dress seemed equally infatuated with her figure because it clung to her lush form with adoration.

“Let's have a peek,” he cajoled, only half-serious. Last time, half the fun of their brief encounter had to do with how flustered she'd gotten at his teasing.

“No.” The word broke from her lips in a passionate moan somewhere between protest and plea.

Her hand slid against his chest, finding his heartbeat. He wondered what she'd make of its increased tempo.

He cradled her face while he turned up the volume on her shivers and smiled against her skin as she tipped her head into his palm, giving him better access to her neck.

“Come on, let's go somewhere we won't be disturbed.” He drifted his lips along her cheek, devouring her with languid, sultry slowness.

“I'm not going anywhere with you.” Her objection ended in a murmur of pleasure as he leaned his chest against her breasts, pressing into her slowly. She stretched like a cat, rubbing against him, a dark, husky rumble deep in her throat.

It amused him that she continued to deny him. They both knew he would get his way in the end.

His lips descended until they were a hairbreadth from hers. “Why not? We were incredible together.” One hand swallowed the curve of her buttock, coaxing her against the aroused hardness below his belt. “Feel how hot I am for you. I know you're just as hot for me.”

The hand on his chest became a fist. “You have any number of women hot for you.”

Is that why she'd been dodging his phone calls?

He smiled indulgently. “But you're the only one I want.”

 

Emma lost the ability to breathe. His words intensified the ache inside her, a potent craving that left her shaky. And tempted. Oh, so tempted.

Flirting with him at Grant's party three weeks ago had seemed like a harmless lark. After all, he'd had no trouble resisting her ten years ago. At twenty he'd been broad of shoulder and delicious to look at, with a cocky charm that dried her mouth and left her at a loss for words. She'd pulled
out every trick in her sixteen-year-old arsenal in hopes that he'd look her way. To her shock, it seemed to work.

Until the devastating one-two punch to her ego.

Her cheeks blazed anew at the memory of the day she'd put on her shortest skirt, a brand new pair of stiletto heels and borrowed one of her mother's push-up bras. She'd cornered Nathan in the kitchen and practically begged him to help her become a more experienced woman.

Then, he did exactly as she asked. Only not in the way she wanted.

Expression hard, gray eyes shot through with flashes of lightning, he'd held her at arm's length, laughed and told her to go wash her face and stop playing at being grown-up. And once he finished trampling her self-esteem to dust, he'd sauntered out of the kitchen. The following day he'd left for Las Vegas and hadn't returned to Texas until a few months ago.

She'd been thrilled to see him, believing she'd mastered the skills needed to cope with his vast reserves of sex appeal. Oh, how little she'd learned.

“I'm the one you want right now,” she countered.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, coasting gentle kisses across her eyelids.

If she let him have his way, how long before he moved on? Could she stand to spend every second of their time together waiting for the other shoe to drop? No. Better to leave things exactly as they were. The memory of their one night together would have to be enough. For both of them.

“Let's go back to my hotel.” His hands flowed from her hips to her waist, the firm pressure fitting her more fully against his unyielding torso. “If you can resist screaming my name for an hour, I'll never bother you again.” An hour?

Anticipation swelled, drowning anxiety, as she remembered all too well the roller-coaster ride of screaming thrills awaiting
her at his hands. She rubbed her thighs together to combat a mounting frustration. The way she felt right now, she'd climax before he had her clothes off.

He'd win. He knew it. Worse, he knew she knew it. Hell, she was ready to scream his name right here and now just to make the building pressure go away.

“Nathan, I'm not going to sleep with you again.”

“Again? You didn't stick around long enough to sleep with me the last time. I'm looking forward to waking up with you in my arms.”

His hand was warm and compelling against the small of her back. She lifted her chin while he nuzzled her temple. When his lips brushed the corner of hers, soft as a butterfly's wing, golden light spilled into her veins. If he had any idea how much she'd wanted to end up like this tonight, alone with him and poised to surrender, she would be doomed.

Don't do this.
A rational voice shrilled in her mind while her bones melted, and her skin flushed.
You'll never get a chance to marry for love if you let him seduce you again.

“You're afraid to give into this thing between us,” he murmured. “Don't be.”

“I'm not.”

Letting go had been fun. She'd fantasized about him for years. But not one sizzling daydream had prepared her for the thrilling hard press of his muscles or the urgency of his kisses. He'd cajoled and demanded and she'd happily surrendered.

It was the aftermath that had terrified her. The treacherous longing to surrender control and let him dictate where the relationship went and how long it lasted. Discovering how fast she became putty in his hands had made it easy to avoid his phone calls.

His lips trailed wildfire kisses down her throat to the hollow where her pulse fluttered madly. “I promise to take it slow.”

“How thoughtful of you,” she said, injecting irony into her
tone. He couldn't find out how much she wanted to give in. “But I think you're getting the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea about what?”

“About what I want.”

“And what is that?”

A man who would love her forever.

“Three, two, one…” voices shouted in enthusiastic unison. Noisemakers and horns generated a cacophony, almost drowning out cries of “Happy New Year!”

Listening to the party on the other side of the door, Emma wondered what the coming year would offer.

“Happy New Year,” she whispered.

This was his cue to kiss her, but he didn't. He had such sexy lips, well-shaped with a fullness that teased and a wicked quirk that enticed. Anticipation lashed at her. She couldn't stop trembling.

“Happy New Year,” he echoed, a smile in his voice. “Have you made any New Year's resolutions?”

“Just one.”

“And that would be?”

She shook her head to clear the sensual net he wove around her with so little effort. “I'm resolved to be less spontaneous.”

He chuckled. “And how is that working for you so far?”

“Not very well.” She kept her tone dry, determined to master her nerves. “How about you? Have you made any resolutions for the New Year?”

“Just one,” he said.

She lifted her hands to his face, sliding her fingers over his bold, masculine bone structure and sharp, well-defined jawline. Even in the darkened room he had an arresting face.

He tugged his bow tie loose and left it dangling, drawing her attention to his impressive chest. Heat poured off his long torso, seeping into her skin and setting fire to her better
judgment. Her fingers tingled as she traced the muscles beneath his white shirt. He radiated power and vitality. The sensation of all that caged energy weakened her knees.

“What is it?”

His mouth brushed against hers, lingering just long enough to blend their breath. She tried to catch his lips, to compel him to kiss her hard and deep, but he pulled away.

“I'm going to spend the rest of my life making love to you.”

Her heart fluttered against her ribs like a startled canary.

“That's a pretty big commitment,” she said, unsure what to make of his declaration.

“On the contrary.” His breath tickled her ear, redirecting her focus. She turned her head toward the lips hovering beside her cheekbone, but he pushed back, taking away temptation. “I can't wait to make you Mrs. Nathan Case.”

A
t his words, her heart hit her toes. Mrs. Nathan Case?

“What?” She wheezed, unable to breathe. “Have you lost your mind?”

Her hands left his chest and settled on her temples, where a jackhammer had started drilling into her brain.

“Hardly.”

“This isn't because of the other night, is it? Because I assure you, one night of sex does not require a noble gesture on your part.” She leaned forward and stage-whispered, “I wasn't a virgin.”

A low chuckle rumbled out of his chest. “You sure didn't behave like one.”

She let his comment pass unanswered while scrambling to make sense of what he'd just proposed. Unfortunately, she found it almost impossible to think rationally while the scorned sixteen-year-old inside her whooped with triumph. She smothered young Emma's enthusiasm and concentrated on reality.

Marry Nathan? Impossible. His ability to make any woman feel special did not make him marriage material.

“My father put you up to this, didn't he?”

“It's what we talked about this afternoon.” Nathan's eyes narrowed. “He thinks it's past time you married.”

“To someone I choose.”

White teeth flashing in a cocky grin. “Got anyone in mind?”

Understanding dawned. She gasped in horror. “You thought I chose you?” An unsteady laugh escaped her. Oh, the humiliation. “I don't want to marry you,” she said, keeping her tone slow and deliberate so he wouldn't misinterpret her meaning. “I don't want to marry anyone. Not right now.”

Not without love.

“Your father seems pretty determined.”

“You have no idea,” she muttered. “But it's not happening.”

Looking past Nathan's imposing shoulders, Emma eyed her father's enormous study and wished they were using more of it for this discussion. Speaking sensibly about all the reasons why they shouldn't get married would be easier without Nathan's gorgeous, muscular body trapping her against the door.

In an instant, she plummeted back in time to three weeks ago, when she stood pinned against a different door, her heart thudding madly, her senses alive while he thrust into her. With absolute authority, he had stripped her defenses, made her crazy with wanting and done things to her body that left her in a panting, spent puddle, craving more.

Emma pushed away the memory, locked her knees when they threatened to buckle and marshaled her resentment.

“Why would you agree to something like this?” she demanded.

“Case Consolidated Holdings wants to do business with Montgomery Oil.”

“Daddy made our marriage a condition of the deal.”

A business deal. She might have guessed. A howl rose in her chest. She clenched her teeth together to contain it. How could her father do this to her again? Hadn't he learned anything from the last time he tried meddling in her love life?

The summer she graduated from college she'd been engaged to an up-and-coming executive at Montgomery Oil. Imagine her surprise when she discovered that the reason for Jackson Orr's rapid advancement had to do with the deal he had struck with her father when he'd first started dating Emma. Jackson would move up the food chain in exchange for marrying her. When she'd found out, she'd broken her engagement and determined never to repeat her mistake.

“It must be one hell of a business deal,” she grumbled, reaching over to flip on the lights.

Floor lamps chased away shadow. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the brightness.

“The biggest one I've ever done.”

“Then I guess marrying me is a small price to pay.” The bitter taste of the words gave her tone a sharp bite. “What's wrong?”

Her spirits drooped still lower. With a big business deal on the line, Nathan wouldn't be receptive to her pleas to turn her father down.

“I don't want to marry you like this.”

“Like this?” he echoed dryly, picking up on how those last two words had betrayed her. “Is there some other way you'd like to marry me?”

Emma ignored the gleam in his eye. “I don't want to marry
anyone
like this.” She didn't want to marry a man her father could manipulate. She couldn't respect such a man, and she knew she'd never trust him. “I resent being used as a bargaining chip in my father's deal with you.”

“And I don't like being a pawn in your father's attempt to
control you,” Nathan countered without heat, speaking as if he found the whole mess completely reasonable. “However, I suggest we make the best of the situation we find ourselves in.”

His eyes burned with sexy intent as he located her gown's side zipper and slid it down. Before she voiced a protest, he stroked the straps off her shoulders. Her breath rushed out as she caught the dress before it fell. Her dress. Her defenses. Let one drop and the other would follow.

“Let me remind you how amazing we are together,” he coaxed, sliding his lips into the spot on her shoulder he'd mentioned earlier.

“I don't need reminding, Nathan.” Anxiety and anticipation fluttered in her midsection like drunken fairies. Although she couldn't shake her misgivings about his reasons for marrying her, the memory of his body mastering hers proved a powerful aphrodisiac. Marriage to Nathan would be like bronco riding: dangerous, exhilarating, uncertain. He would trample her heart, oblivious to the damage he'd inflicted, then race off to take on his next challenge. “But great sex isn't enough to base a marriage on.”

He reached out and took her chin in his fingers to turn her face toward him. “It is if we don't indulge in unrealistic expectations.”

She almost laughed.

In her darkest moments, when she'd contemplated her life if forced to go along with her father's plans, she'd pictured herself living the way her mother had, married to a businessman who worked long hours. She'd imagined herself spending her mornings shopping, followed by lunch at the club. Eventually, she'd indulge in a torrid affair with her golf coach or her daughter's French tutor. From observing others in their social circle, she'd assumed that she and her husband would live completely separate lives, coming together for
business dinners and parties. Sex would be infrequent and only if she became sufficiently tipsy.

That was not the life she would have with Nathan Case, a man who left her weak-kneed and wanting with a look. For him, she'd pore through lingerie catalogs and work out at the gym to make sure she maintained her perfect figure. She saw herself planning luscious dinners for two and vacations to exotic locales. He would become her life, her obsession.

Emma shivered.

And what would she get in return? Would he be a faithful husband? Or would he indulge in extramarital affairs that would drive her to become like her father: Suspicious and watchful to the point where she drove him away? She'd watched her mother grow more and more miserable until Emma's junior year of high school, when she'd filed for divorce and moved to Los Angeles. She'd never remarried, and Emma often wondered if her mother was less afraid of losing her alimony than she was of risking her heart again.

Recalling his flirtation with the blonde in the library, doubts marched in and rang a warning bell.

“Unrealistic expectations?” she echoed. “Such as fidelity?” There, she'd said it.

“I intend for this to be a real marriage, Emma.” Lightning danced in his gray eyes. His fingers slipped whisper-soft against her cheek. “You will be the only woman in my bed.”

But what about his heart? How could a marriage be real without love?

Emma fought the panic trembling through her as she considered what sort of emotional seesaw awaited her as Nathan's wife. When her father had barred access to her trust fund ten months ago, complaining that the amount she spent on clothes and shoes proved she had no grasp of fiscal responsibility, she thought he was just trying to teach her
a lesson. She never truly believed he'd force her to marry someone.

Reaching to fidget with her jewelry, Emma tugged on her earlobe and recalled Nathan pocketing the sapphire and diamond drops. They were one of her earliest designs. She'd dabbled at making jewelry since graduating from college, but a two-year stint as a goldsmith's assistant had dampened her enthusiasm for executing other people's designs. But when her father cut her off, she'd stubbornly decided to live on what she could make selling her own line of jewelry.

She realized after six months of slow sales that even if she lived without luxuries like designer fashions and spa visits, making enough to pay her mortgage, put gas in her car and food in her refrigerator would require her to work a lot harder than she ever had. And not just for a year, but for the rest of her life.

Or she could get her trust fund back. If she did what her father wanted and got married. Within one year. It was the one condition he'd put on restoring her funds.

She was tired of fighting. Fighting her father's will. Fighting the temptation to spend money. Fighting to pay her bills. This year had been hell. It would be so easy to quit. To do what her father wanted. Marry Nathan. Let him take care of her. No more eyestrain or aching muscles from sitting at her worktable for hours at a time. No more fretting over whether she could afford to keep her membership at her favorite yoga studio.

Emma straightened her spine. “May I have my earrings back?”

“I think I'll hold on to them for a little while.”

“Why?”

“You disappeared out of my life three weeks ago without looking back. I want to make sure that doesn't happen again.”

“I didn't disappear.” But she had. The flash fire of desire
between them had sent her scurrying for cover like a startled rabbit. “Please, Nathan, can't we talk about this tomorrow? I'm tired, and I need time to think. Let's meet for breakfast in the morning.”

Her weary defeat must have reached him because his hands fell away. He backed off enough to let her open the door and watched in silence while she zipped up her dress.

“I'll pick you up here at ten.” Powerful and confident, dangerous and sexy, the combination sabotaged her resolve to walk away without a backward glance.

“Ten. Sure.” She fled before he could stop her. She didn't think she had enough strength to resist him one more time. She had to get out of here. Tonight.

Racing up the back stairs, her heart pounding in fear that he might change his mind and follow her, she reached the second floor and paused to catch her breath when she was confident he'd let her go.

The wide hallway in front of her wrapped around the four-story great hall, circling upward to a dome painted with clouds. Her father had spent $50 million to re-create a little slice of French drama on the two-hundred-acre estate north of Dallas. The forty-thousand-square-foot mansion took its inspiration from Versailles both in style and grandeur with pastel walls and ornate French antiques throughout. It had taken almost three years to build, thanks to her father's obsessive need to oversee the tiniest detail, but it had kept his mind off his divorce from his fourth wife and granted Emma a respite from his nosing into her life.

Unfortunately, nothing good lasts forever. And when the last piece of furniture had been delivered at the beginning of February, Silas had once again turned his attention to his only daughter.

“And he complains about my spending,” she grumbled.

The party didn't sound as if it was winding down. She neared the rail and peered below. A moving, brightly colored
mosaic of elegant gowns and glittering jewels made her dizzy. Emma backed away and placed her hand over her churning stomach.

“There you are.”

Emma turned in the direction of her father's voice. He strode along the hallway in her direction, his long legs eating up the distance between them. At sixty-three, he had the athletic build and energy of a man twenty years younger. He used his height as well as his strong personality to intimidate business associates and family members alike.

“I saw you and Nathan together.” Her father eyed her mussed hair. “Have you talked?”

“Oh, we talked all right,” she muttered, her cheeks warming.

“Wonderful. Come downstairs. I want to announce your engagement.”

Emma hated confrontation. Growing up, she had learned to keep her head down in the ongoing battle between her parents. Clasping her hands together, Emma gathered her resolve.

“Not tonight, Daddy. I'm tired.”

“Nonsense. It will just be a quick announcement and a toast to the two of you.”

As much as she hated taking on her father, she was determined to stand her ground on this issue. “There is no engagement.”

Silas Montgomery's blue-green eyes blazed. “Didn't he ask you to marry him?”

“He told me we were getting married. I told him we weren't.” Resentment burned, giving her courage. She had to find some way to escape her father's plans for her. Whatever it took, she had no intention of becoming Mrs. Nathan Case. “I'm not going to marry him as part of some business deal between you two.”

“Last Valentine's Day, I gave you a year to find someone
to marry. That time is almost up, and you haven't settled on anyone. So I found someone for you.”

“I don't want to marry Nathan.” Her father and Nathan were evenly matched in stubbornness, arrogance and lack of concern about her feelings in this matter. “In fact, he's the last man in the world I would pick to marry.”

Her father frowned at her aggrieved tone. “That's not the impression I got from the conversation between you and Jaime at Christmas.”

Emma groaned. As if this entire night wasn't humiliating enough, now she'd learned that her father had overheard her telling her sister-in-law about leaving Grant's party with Nathan and what had happened afterwards?

“You were eavesdropping?”

“You weren't exactly keeping your voices down.”