Til Death Do Us Part (29 page)

Go slow, he told himself. Take it easy. She's not an experienced woman who takes lovemaking lightly. He continued the kiss, deepening it by degrees, gauging her reaction moment to moment. When she made no protest as the level of his passion increased, he cupped her breast in his hand, squeezing it tenderly.

Cleo broke the kiss and cried out. Shoving against his chest, she struggled to free herself from his embrace. He
allowed her to withdraw from him. When she sat straight up, he took a deep breath and sat up beside her.

“What is it? What did I do wrong?” he asked.

Bowing her head, she stared down at her clasped hands resting in her lap. “I'm sorry. This was my fault. You didn't do anything wrong. I should have told you before we came to bed, but I thought that…maybe…you wouldn't… I mean, since I hired you to be my husband, to take your orders from me—”

Roarke grabbed her shoulders and shook her just enough to get her attention. “Stop babbling, Cleo, and just say whatever it is you're trying to say.”

“I want us to wait to have sex.” She looked directly at him. “I should have said something before we came to bed. I thought a great deal about the situation and decided that, since we're practically strangers, it would be easier for me to have sex with you after I got to know you a little better. I think we should wait a couple of weeks.”

Dammit to hell! Why hadn't she told him sooner? Before he'd worked himself up into a sexual frenzy. He was hard and throbbing. She hadn't protested when he'd taken her in his arms and kissed her. She had responded eagerly. She wanted him! Dammit, he knew she wanted him.

Releasing her instantly, Roarke shot out of bed and stomped across the floor. He opened the French doors and went outside. He gripped the banister with white-knuckled anger. Frustration rioted inside his body.

Suddenly and without warning, he felt Cleo's hand on his shoulder. The rush of adrenaline roaring in his ears had blocked out every other sound, including her footsteps on the balcony. He tensed at her gentle touch.

“You're angry with me, aren't you?” she asked.

“No, Boss Lady, I'm not angry with you.” He kept his back to her and measured each word he spoke very care
fully. “You call the shots in this relationship. If you say no sex for two weeks, then we wait two weeks.”

“Please understand why I need some time. My body may want you, but—” She hadn't meant to say that, to be so candid. What would he think of her? Did he already consider her a tease?

She did want him! He knew she did! He turned slowly, anger and frustration still riding him hard. The moment he looked into her tear-glazed green eyes, the anger vanished, but the frustration deepened. She was incredibly lovely standing there in the moonlight, her ivory skin gold kissed, her auburn hair shimmering like mahogany silk and her eyes darkened to a deep, dark jade.

“Go on back to bed, Cleo,” he told her. “I'm fine. We'll wait until you tell me that you're ready for us to have sex.”

“I want you to sleep with me,” she said.

“What?”

“I want us to sleep in the same bed for the next two weeks, even though we won't be—”

“Yeah, sure. It wouldn't do if Pearl realized I was sleeping on the chaise longue or on a pallet on the floor. Or if a member of the family caught us sleeping separately.”

“Yes, that's one of the reasons I think we should sleep together.”

“One of the reasons? What other reason could there be?”

When she looked down, averting her gaze from his face, Roarke grabbed her chin, lifting it, forcing her to look at him.

“If we sleep together every night, we'll get used to each other.” She tried to look away from him, but he held her chin tightly. When she could find no other way to escape his visual assessment, she closed her eyes. “I'll become accustomed to your body lying next to me.”

Did she have any idea what kind of effect she was hav
ing on him? Did she know how badly he was hurting? It had been a long time since he'd wanted a woman the way he wanted her. And it was his own damn fault for assuming he would have sex with his wife on their wedding night.

“I understand,” he said, and he did. But understanding her reasons didn't lessen his desire to take her—here, now, where she stood.

“Come back to bed,” she said. “Please.”

“Yeah, sure. In a little while.” He released her chin. “You go on. I need some more fresh air.”

“All right.” She left him alone on the balcony.

He had meant to stay only a few more minutes, but by the time he had his body under control and his mind calmed, over an hour had passed. When he crawled into bed beside Cleo, he thought she was asleep, but within a few minutes, he realized she was still awake. He had a feeling neither one of them would get much sleep that night.

O
NE WEEK DOWN
and one week to go, Roarke thought. Dammit, he hadn't been this preoccupied with sex since he was a teenager. But he had never slept beside a desirable woman night after night and been
ordered
not to touch her. Well, actually, she hadn't ordered him not to touch her—he
had
touched her, and that was part of the problem. But she had made it perfectly clear that they were not going to have sex for the first two weeks of their marriage.

He'd never been a Don Juan with the ladies, but he certainly hadn't led a celibate life, either. He wasn't accustomed to having someone dictate the terms of his sex life. But then, his sexual partner had never also been his employer. This arrangement with Cleo was frustrating, to say the least, with the potential to become explosive.

For a week now, they had lain in bed together every night, kept apart by nothing except Cleo's edict and his own willpower. But every morning they awoke to find their bodies touching, often lying spoon-fashion, her back to his chest, his arms draped around her, or vice versa, with her breasts pressed against his back, her hand lying on his stomach. This morning when he awoke, her leg had been draped over his, her fingers twined in his chest hair and her head on his shoulder.

He had found it damn near impossible to let her slip away from him, but he'd had no choice. She always
seemed slightly embarrassed to discover that her body had sought the warmth of his during the night.

They continued their charade of being a happily married couple, but Cleo had seen to it that they'd had their breakfasts and dinners alone in her suite. She used their newlywed state as an excuse for them not to share mealtimes with her family. But being alone so much only added to Roarke's frustration, and he suspected Cleo wasn't immune to the sexual tension pulsating between them.

Roarke sat on the leather sofa in Cleo's office, trying his damnedest to concentrate on the files she'd asked him to look over. Maybe, if he wasn't aware of what she looked like first thing in the morning, with her hair mussed and her slender body clad in nothing but a thin cotton gown, he could look at the prim-and-proper Ms. McNamara—correction, Mrs. Roarke—sitting behind her impressive desk and see nothing more than a neatly attired businesswoman. She certainly didn't dress provocatively. She had a dozen simple little suits that she wore with matching heels and handbags and accented with pearl, diamond and gold jewelry, all small and delicate, like the lady who wore it.

Every time he looked at her, he saw a desirable woman. A woman he had a legal right to claim. But not a moral right.

Trey Sutton stormed into Cleo's office, disregarding the dire warning from Cleo's secretary that Mrs. Roarke was not to be disturbed. Audrey Woodward raced in behind Trey, waving her arms and threatening to do him bodily harm.

Trey marched straight over to Cleo's desk, pounded his fist on the wooden surface and glared coldly at his cousin. “You had no right to invent a position here at McNamara Industries just so you could give your husband a job.”

“I'm so sorry, Mrs. Roarke,” Audrey said. “I tried to stop Mr. Sutton, but he wouldn't listen to me. Do you want me to call Charlie?”

Roarke tossed the file folder on the sofa, uncrossed his legs and watched his wife very closely.

Cleo calmly laid aside the computer printout she'd been reading and looked up at Audrey. “No, there's no need to call the guard. After all—” she glanced meaningfully at Roarke “—our new head of security is sitting right here in my office.”

“Yes, of course. I'd forgotten.”

Audrey smiled at Roarke, and he thought once again, as he had when they'd first been introduced, how very young and sweet she seemed.

“Head of security, my rear end.” Trey turned his heated glare on Roarke. “McNamara's never needed more than a guard at the front gate and a night watchman. Why, suddenly, do we need a head of security? You can hardly call a guard and a night watchman a security force.”

Cleo smiled faintly, not parting her lips, and Roarke knew she was preparing to strike. In the ten days he'd known his wife, he'd learned the meaning of her different smiles.

“Why do we
suddenly
need a head of security?” Cleo asked mockingly. “Because,
suddenly,
after Uncle George's death, someone took a shot at me. And I have been informed that in the past two weeks, we've
suddenly
had a rash of phone calls from regular customers concerning inaccurate billing. Someone has gone into the computer system and altered the accounts. And in a plant that has been accident-free for over three years, we've
suddenly
had two mysterious accidents since Uncle George's funeral. If I didn't know better, I'd say someone
was suddenly trying to sabotage McNamara Industries—someone who would like to see me forced into selling the company.”

“Why do you assume that someone is monkeying around with our computer system? More than likely an employee simply made a mistake in billing and is too frightened of losing his job to own up to it.” Standing straight, his back ramrod stiff, Trey bent his neatly manicured fingers into his palms, stopping just short of making tight fists. “And accidents do happen, you know? An electrical hoist can short-circuit. Mechanical equipment can and does fail.”

“I'm well aware that equipment can malfunction. But not without a reason. As well-maintained as our maintenance crew keeps this plant, two of our workers shouldn't be in the hospital right now, recuperating from ‘accidents' that never should have happened.”

“All right, even if someone deliberately screwed with the accounts and there's no logical explanations for those two accidents, that's no reason to put your husband in charge of the investigations. I'd like to know just what his qualifications for the job are.” Trey's tanning-bed brown face flushed scarlet. He kept his gaze focused on Cleo, not once glancing in Roarke's direction.

“As CEO of McNamara Industries, I do not have to justify my actions to you, a senior vice president, but as my cousin and a stockholder, I'll tell you this—” Cleo pushed her swivel chair away from her desk and stood “—I am satisfied that Simon is qualified to head up security, and that's all that matters. As soon as possible, he will be hiring several new people to form a small security force. We've been behind times for years now. I'm simply bringing us up to date.”

“Don't you think you're going overboard in forming a security force, in hiring new employees, when it's all we can do to afford the people already on the payroll?” Trey asked. “We should be downsizing, not hiring!”

“The decision has been made,” Cleo said. “There's no point in discussing this further. Whoever is behind the accidents, the computer tampering and the attempt on my life is not going to succeed in forcing me to sell this company!”

Roarke rose from the sofa. Standing to his full six-feet-three-inch height, he towered over a much shorter Trey Sutton. “And you don't have to worry about Cleo's safety.” Roarke's deep, commanding voice vibrated through the room. “The only way anyone is going to be able to get to her is over my dead body.”

“Well, I…er…I'm relieved to know that as Cleo's husband, you're taking her safety so seriously.” Trey cleared his throat. “But I still think Cleo is going too far in forming a security force.”

Roarke placed his hand on Trey's back. The younger man tensed. Roarke patted his back. “Well, why don't you let Cleo worry about running this company? After all, her uncle did leave her in charge, didn't he?”

“Right.” Nodding agreement, Trey took a step away from Roarke's big hand, then glanced at Cleo. “You'll keep me notified of any developments?”

“Of course,” Cleo said.

The moment Trey left her office, Cleo sat down on her desk, letting her short legs dangle off the edge. “He's afraid of something, isn't he?”

Roarke walked directly in front of Cleo, leaned toward her and braced his hands on top of her desk. His arms straddled her hips. With his face only inches from hers, he said, “Do you think Trey is our man?”

For a split second Cleo couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Roarke was too close, his body almost touching hers, his breath mingling with hers, his lips a hairbreadth from hers.

Night after night they lay together—man and woman—and Cleo's body cried out for his, longing for his possession. But she had made such a big deal out of waiting two weeks, to become better acquainted before they consummated their marriage, that her pride wouldn't allow her to back down now. Besides, Roarke had not made the slightest effort to pressure her or seduce her. If he really wanted her, wouldn't he have tried to persuade her to give in?

“What—what did you say?” She looked up into his mesmerizing blue eyes and fervently wished she were alone with him in their bedroom.

“I asked if you thought Trey might be behind the problems here at McNamara Industries and if he could have been the person who tried to shoot you.”

“Oh. I don't want to think Trey is capable of either, especially not of trying to kill me. But I suppose it's possible.” Cleo found that she could not stop herself from leaning forward toward Roarke. “We used to be close, when we were younger. Trey even occasionally took my side against Daphne. But once I started moving up the corporate ladder here at McNamara's faster than he did, he began to resent me.”

“When Sam Dundee hired Dane Carmichael to run the Dundee agency for him, Dane extended the agency's services to include private investigation as well as private security.”

Roarke wanted to take Cleo right this minute. Right there on her big desk. He wanted to spread her legs, strip off her stockings and panties, grab her lush little behind and thrust into her welcoming warmth.

“Morgan Kane is one of our top investigators,” Roarke said. “I want to bring him over from Atlanta to train your new security force and to give your guard and night watchman refresher courses.”

“If you want to bring in someone from the Dundee agency, then bring him in.” Cleo's feminine instincts told her to open her legs, to stretch out her arms, to enfold Simon Roarke, to take him into her body and accept all that he could give her. If only he would take her. Not even ask her permission. Just know that she wanted him and act on that knowledge. “I'll cooperate fully with you in whatever steps you think necessary.”

“I want every employee to know that I'm heading up a security force to investigate McNamara's problems,” he said. “It's possible that whoever is creating havoc here at the plant will think twice about doing anything else if he or she knows.”

“Whatever you want,” Cleo told him.

Roarke could feel her heat, could sense her desire. What the hell was she trying to do—drive him crazy? Or was she, in her own inexperienced way, trying to seduce him? Dammit, why didn't she just come right out and tell him that she'd changed her mind, that she wanted to have sex with him and she wanted it now?

Or was she trying to push him over the edge so that he'd make the first move? No way. He wasn't going to make it that easy for her. She was the one who had set up the ground rules for their marriage. She'd have to be the one to change them. No matter how much he wanted her—and he wanted her bad—he wasn't going to take her until she asked for it. Maybe not even until she begged for it.

Lifting his hands off the desk, Roarke stood and took a
step backward, stopping less than a foot away from Cleo. He didn't break eye contact as he distanced himself from her.

Come get me if you want me, honey.
His hardened sex strained against his slacks.
You've got to know I want you. All you have to do is say the word and I'm yours.

Cleo crossed her ankles. Her heels rested on the side of the desk. She had thought Roarke wanted to kiss her, but just as she was about to reach up and put her arms around his neck, he pulled back, moving away from her.

“I think tomorrow will be soon enough to bring in Mr. Kane and start hiring people for the security force,” Cleo said. “This afternoon, I'd like to continue our tour of the plant. By the end of the week, I want you acquainted with all our employees and them with you.”

“You really care about these people, don't you?” he asked.

“McNamara Industries wouldn't exist without our loyal, hardworking employees. Uncle George taught me how important it is to take care of this company, and that means taking care of the people who make it run.”

“Come on, Boss Lady. Lead the way.” Roarke willed his body under control.

When he took her arm and draped it through his, Cleo hesitated momentarily, allowing herself time to adjust to the feel of him, his warmth and strength. “We'll end our tour in shipping and receiving, at the loading platforms.”

Roarke followed Cleo out of her office and into the elevator leading three stories down to the plant level. He watched her closely as she led him through the laboratory. She stopped to speak to every technician, introducing each by name just as she'd done in the plant yesterday. Running three shifts, seven days a week, McNamara In
dustries employed nearly three hundred people, and there wasn't a one Cleo didn't know.

McNamara's was a small chemical plant, as plants go, but it was the life's blood of River Bend. And those nearly three hundred employees and their families depended on this little family-owned business.

Cleo carried a heavy burden on her shoulders—the fate of hundreds of McNamara employees and their families as well as the responsibility of a group of ungrateful, manipulative, dependent relatives. Roarke decided his wife was one of the strongest, most in-control women he'd ever known. She was the total opposite of Hope, who had been weak and dangerously emotional. As long as he lived, he would never forgive himself for not realizing sooner how mentally unstable Hope had been.