Too Grand for Words (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (12 page)

Her eyes filled with fear. He suddenly understood that she was terrified, and he had done this to her.

She tried to draw herself away. “I’m all right.”

He didn’t believe her. His lips found hers again, and his kiss possessed her, driving him mad, but hoping to allay her fears.

He opened his eyes when a single tear escape hers, and touched his cheek. His heart fell. “No, sweetheart, no.” He pulled her tight with the need to protect her, but it was him who she needed to be protected from. “Moira, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” He held her and rocked her body. “Do you know what went through my mind today when your hand was slipping from mine on the cliff?” Her eyes closed and she shook her head. “That I was about to lose someone incredibly special. I didn’t know what fear was until that second, and I never want to feel it again.” His finger traced a path across her lips. “I didn’t know what beautiful was until you sat across from me last night, and I’ve been surrounded by it for years.”

“Doing what?” she asked, the curl of her lips already giving her away.

A laugh rumbled in his chest. “Nice try,” he said, brushing the bangs from her eyes. “I’ve had lots of offers to come to this place, but I never did, and I understand why now—I was waiting for you.” He looked deep into her soulful eyes. “Don’t be scared of me, Moira. I’m not a gangster. I’m not an escort for hire.” He shook his, confused by his own feelings. “I’m just a man who’s falling head over heels for a woman he’s just met.”

“I’m not scared.”

“That’s the granddaddy of all lies,” he murmured good-naturedly. His forehead touched hers, his concern growing. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”

“I’m painfully aware that my bare breasts are pressed against your chest. How I’m going to get out of this situation without dying of mortification I haven’t figured out yet.” She laid the palm of her hand along his clenched jaw. “Steven, I know who I am and what I’m not. I’m not beautiful. I don’t have any soft edges left.” Her brows pinched together as if she were in pain. “I work in a world of dominant men. I’m crass, and I swear like a sailor. I could probably drink you under the table. You’ve read me totally wrong.” She pulled away from him, trying to cover herself with her arm.

He gently stopped her again, pushing her arm down and letting his thumb graze her nipple. The roughness of his finger against her peak filled him with need, and he knew it affected her when her lips parted.

“There are plenty of gorgeous women in Las Vegas that are your caliber,” she said weakly.

“You can’t hide from me. I see you, Moira. I want you, not them—you.” When her lips parted with his touch, it was the most sensual thing he’d ever seen in his life.

He wanted to be inside her so badly he could almost feel her wrapped around him. Gathering her in his arms, he held her tightly. He had to calm down.

His hands slipped to her fingers, feeling them clenched into tight little fists. Why was she fighting this? He backed away from her. It wasn’t just her hands that trembled. It was all of her. He raised her small hand to his lips, suddenly feeling terrible. “So I suppose what you’re telling me is that your lunch is to go?” He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice, but he couldn’t force her to want him.

“I’m telling you, you don’t need me.”

Lifting her up, he gently pulled her body to his. Her breasts pressed against his stomach, and his shaft went rock hard again. She was wrong about that on so many levels. He did need her. “Not even twenty-four hours have passed and you think you know what I need?” His eyes drank in the small woman who fit so beautifully against him.

“No, but I know what you
should
want.” Her hand drifted absently across his abdomen. “I think your world is a little different from mine, wherever it is that you come from. I’m sea and storm, tug boats and deep seas. I take crap from the mariners when my staff screws up. I shoulder it and try to diffuse it.”

“I’m a lifetime of hard knocks and broken angles, and I can’t change who I am. I would love to be soft and feminine, but I never will be.” She stared up at him apologetically. “I can’t be something I’m not.” She bit her lip and smiled at him sadly. “I’m sorry.”

Without a word, he knelt down to retrieve her robe, pulling it around her shoulders. He didn’t know what to think. He saw her totally differently than she saw herself, but instead of arguing with her he buried his hand in her thick waves of hair and drew her to him for a deep kiss.

He wasn’t going to walk away from the first real feelings he could ever remember having. He would just have to go slower. His kiss intensified, and when she kissed him back, her passion passed into him. It warmed his entire soul. He slowly opened his eyes, but this time she was already looking at him. God, this woman had control.

* * * *

He took Moira to her hotel, knowing she needed her space. An odd feeling squeezed at his heart as he pulled up to the front entrance. Before she could jump out, he drew her close to him. They’d said very little in the car on the ride back, and the lighthearted banter had disappeared. He sensed her fear as if it were his own, but then again, maybe it was.

“Thank you, Steven, it’s been interesting.”

“Moira, can you tell me why you’re scared?” he asked seriously. “I felt your passion, and I saw your fear. I don’t think you get scared very often, but you’re scared of me when I get near you—why?”

She gently laid her hand over his. She didn’t look at him when she said, “I’m not used to this. I can’t, I…I…never,” she stuttered, unable to finish.

He grasped her hand in his, and kissed her lips gently to quiet her fears. She resisted for a split second, but her control gave way, and it was like a wave cresting over him when she let her fire burn openly. He couldn’t lie, and say he didn’t want her. There was no way in hell he could just drive away from her, and it wasn’t because she was resisting. The reason was more important than that.

“I need to get some work done,” he murmured. “I’ll be back later to get you for dinner.”

She jerked away from him. “No—Steven.”

He caught her before she retreated. “Yes, sweetheart.”

“I told you, I’m not sweet. I’m not even a woman anymore.” She slammed her lips shut. “God, did I just say that out loud?” She pulled her arm away from him, ready to make a fast escape.

“I’m coming to pick you up for dinner, Moira,” he said harshly. He didn’t look at her, instead one arm dangled over the steering wheel as he looked straight ahead. He wasn’t going to let her run away from him.

Moira yanked the car door open and thrust herself out. “Stop it, Steven.”

He craned his neck to look at her. “So now you’re going to try angry.”

“I am angry. I’m angry because I’m as seductive as a spiny fish, angry because you’re so handsome and appear so kind and levelheaded. Wherever the hell you came from—go back. Men like you don’t look at someone like me.”

“You are one stubborn woman, do you know that?” His temper rose as well as his desire. “I’ll tell you who’s more stubborn though. It’s me.”

“What part of ‘don’t be stupid’ don’t you get? I’m not your type,” she hissed. “I’m not anyone’s type.” She glanced around to see if anyone was watching. “Don’t do this to me. I don’t want to feel anything.” She turned and walked toward the lobby.

He sat in the car—thinking. His rational mind analyzing as it always did. There could only be one reason why she was scared, and there was no doubt she was. Someone had hurt her badly. Someone had left an open wound in her, and suddenly his anger started to burn with the thought. She’d told him she was divorced, but she hadn’t explained why. He had to know the truth before he could fix it, and there was no question he would do just that.

Chapter Seven

After she took a shower, she sat on the couch in front of the window to watch the sun fall in the sky. A wave of frustration had swarmed her entire being when Steven played with her seductively over lunch. She wanted to cave to his will, but she knew if she did, everything she had worked hard to overcome would unravel.

It had taken so long to believe in herself again after the incident. Then Joseph left her, ending their short marriage. The thought of ever going through that again stopped her from ever becoming involved with anyone. In the end, she knew it wasn’t because he had left her. It had always been about the incident, and her dedication to her work. Without her job, she was nothing, and there was no else to lean on. There was no one in the world she could trust, except herself.

Damn it, she wasn’t a toy. But she couldn’t stop the desire for Steven that seemed to eat at her every second. That fact alone made her vulnerable. She needed to stop this now. When the phone rang, she jumped.

“Everybody’s waiting, and Mr. Gorgeous just walked in. Are you coming down?” Callie asked.

“Tell Steven he can come up here. I have to talk to him. You guys go on without us.”

“Fine, I’ll tell him.”

* * * *

“Wow, nice room,” Steven said, entering. She’d love his suite, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. He wasn’t going to tell her anything. Moira looked at him as just a man. She knew nothing about him, and for now, he wanted it to stay that way. To her, he was a guy she met in Vegas. He didn’t want to divulge anything else for some reason. His little voice told him it was because he didn’t want to see a change in her eyes when she looked at him, knowing the truth.

He’d had more fun with her and her crew today than he had for years, except for the gut-wrenching fear when he almost lost her, and lunch. He’d blown it big-time, and he knew it. Whether she would forgive him or not was yet to be seen, but he wanted another chance.

What bothered him now was why she fought him this afternoon. Women practically undressed in public for him, even if they didn’t know who he was, but she didn’t. She had been in his arms this afternoon with him making love to her body, and she trembled with restraint. Something didn’t add up.

“Sit down, Mr. Porter.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He went to the bar, poured himself a scotch, and returned to the couch to sit across from her. She stared out the window, gazing at the strip as it came to life in the ebbing light of the day.

“Your friend Mr. Laker,” she began, “convinced me not to look for you on Google. Your friend also gave me this room.”

“That was nice of him,” he said, watching her from beneath his bangs. He took a sip and brought the glass down to balance on his knee.

“You sit there looking so calm and confident,” she said. “The burning question is why the hell are you sitting there? And why the hell am I in this suite meant for the rich and famous?”

“Dinner, and you
are
famous,” he said simply.

She sighed. “You’re playing a game, aren’t you?”

The lighthearted feeling drained from him. “No. I don’t play games, Moira. I don’t have time for that,” he said. “I don’t do that to people, and I don’t accept it from others.”

“Then why are you here? Because I think I’ve had enough of the cat-and-mouse game.”

“I told you, dinner.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” He lifted the glass partway to his lips. “So am I.” He gazed at her with half-hooded eyes.

“I don’t belong in this room. You don’t belong on that couch.”

A knock on the door interrupted their silent standoff. He motioned with his glass. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

She pursed her lips together. “Is it safe?”

He jerked his head once as if pretending he didn’t know. When she opened the door, a bellman stood on the other side of a cart.

“Ma’am, this was ordered for your room.”

She stood back to let the bellman pass. A bottle of wine and two dozen roses lay on the cart, one bouquet of red and one of yellow. He tipped the bellman, who departed quickly. Letting out a long breath, she reached for the yellow roses, smelling the sweet floral scent. She peeked at him over the tops of the flowers.

He grazed his jaw with his palm, feeling the evening shadow, and his mind immediately darted to how it would feel against her thighs. The fact that the robe she wore had come undone just enough to let him see the sensual curve of her breast did a lot to fire his need. He wondered if they were going to get to dinner at all. Maybe a late sitting, he thought.

She’d made a fatal mistake inviting him up to her room because he wasn’t leaving until this little siren showed him the fire that he knew burned hot inside of her. She’d twisted him up so bad in the short time they’d been apart he could barely wait to get back to her. Now he could relax again being in her presence. At least that’s what he thought. Being here now, he realized that was a load of crap. He took the bottle from the cart and popped the cork, pouring two glasses for them. She sat down on the couch, her eyes never leaving his.

He’d done his damndest to get his work done this afternoon, but her face kept swirling in his mind. Most of all, her last words to him echoed in his thoughts. For a split second, he wondered whether he sensed her softness or maybe her strength. Maybe he wanted to dominate her for the wrong reasons. He could never imagine hurting her, but she certainly was killing him. He had to get her out of his system, and the only way to do that was to get her between the sheets like all the rest. That’s what the logical side of his brain told him, but something else inside him had another idea. And it was driving him fuckin’ nuts.

“They’re beautiful, Steven.”

He paused when a sad smile formed on her lips. “More so because they’re in your arms, Moira.” He sat down, trying to understand why she looked that way. She took the glass he held out to her. Then something occurred to him. “No one’s ever given you flowers before, have they?” He didn’t know how he knew it, but he was sure he was right. A twinge twisted his heart when she shook her head. Her attention dropped to the bouquet she held against her chest, gripping it as if she never wanted to let it go.

“Vince said you’ve spent your time aspiring to get to the top of your game, but of course he wouldn’t say what you did or who you worked for,” she said quietly.

He continued to stare at her, still in a shock that her husband had never given her a single flower. How could that be? She obviously wanted to change the subject, so he let her.

“He did confirm you’re not a crook.”

“Oh, that’s good,” he said, stifling a laugh.

“But what he did say is that it would be a mistake if I looked you up, because I would find you and misunderstand.”

He swallowed his wine then put his glass down on the table. Reaching for hers, he took it, and placed it by his. A wave of hair lay across her eye, and he slid closer to her, weaving it around his fingers, feeling the silkiness of it. “That’s probably a pretty fair statement.” He let the wisp unfurl onto her cheek, then let his fingertips gently wander across her collarbone. His roughness against her softness sparked a flash of excitement between his legs. He slowly slid the lapel of her robe to reveal her shoulder. She shuddered, and it turned a welding torch on inside him. “But in my defense you seem to have a secret of your own.”

“I do not. I told you everything about me, and for some reason you’re still sitting here.” She frowned. “Even though I told you not to come back.”

“Not everything.” He gently took the bouquet she held in front of her as protection, and laid it on the table. “You were going to tell me something, and we were interrupted. Something like—you’ve never… But you didn’t finish the sentence.”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t think I want to, it’s embarrassing to be honest.”

“You were married, up until recently. So you’re not going to say you’re a virgin.”

She made a tsking sound and looked at him sideways. “No, of course not.”

“You weren’t married that long though, two years only. That’s pretty much over before it started.”

“He found someone better, I suppose,” she said without emotion. “I don’t really care that the marriage failed. Other people, like Mandy, seemed to care more that he left me for someone else.” She paused. “I don’t hold any ill will against him.”

And therein lay part of the answer, he thought. She didn’t want to show her heart to anyone. Although she covered her pain by putting up a wall to protect herself, she couldn’t always hide behind it. He could understand that easily. He’d put up his own walls over the years, and no one got close. Why Moira was able to get under his skin he hadn’t figured out. It was probably just sexual tension, and he was here to relieve it, nothing else. “So you’ve never what?” he prodded.

“You’re not letting that go, are you?”

“It intrigues me, just like everything else about you.”

“Right, well—” She reached for her glass and took a large swallow, letting her gaze stray to the window. “It just slipped out by accident.”

“This is really hard for you, isn’t it?” he said, watching her squirm. “You always seem so confident, except maybe for this afternoon. This afternoon you seemed truly afraid, but now you’re like a wiggly schoolgirl. I have to tell you, it’s absolutely adorable.”

“Fine, my husband wasn’t very, uh… He wasn’t so hot in the bedroom. In fact, it was more like a puppy humping his first bitch in heat.”

His insides clenched when he imagined what that scene looked like in his mind. It bothered him. The thought of someone being rough with her angered him, and the smile disappeared.

“It was horrible,” she explained, looking out the window instead of at him. “I hated it. It was painful and because of that I never…well I never…” She grabbed the couch tightly with her fingers.

He couldn’t believe it. “Are you trying to say you’ve never had an orgasm?” He watched her twitch in her seat. His eyes darted around the room for a second. Could it be the truth? It couldn’t be.

“How do you say it so easily?”

“Wait a minute.” He ran his hand through his hair. “You’re forty, and you were married two years. It’s been a year since you divorced so you’re saying you were thirty-seven…”

“Okay you can stop the math class now,” she said, refusing to look at him. “I was preoccupied with my career. I’m not a social animal, so I didn’t hang around bars like most twenty-year-olds.” She rolled her legs underneath her on the couch. “I mean seriously, look at me. It’s not like men were panting at my doorstep.”

Holy shit
. It hit him in the guts. Oh God, what he’d done to her this afternoon must have been murder on her. No wonder she had cried, tears of frustration no doubt. He sat back, staring at her in disbelief. He could imagine that more than one man wanted to get into her pants. The one she finally let in had ruined it for her. That’s why she looked scared. Sex meant pain to her. Then he had a thought, and the grin returned.

“Stop laughing, it’s not funny.”

“I’m laughing at the poor woman who thought she was getting a good deal by running away with your husband. Guess the joke’s on her.”

Her fingers slowly crawled to her mouth. “I never thought of that.”

“There’s only one reason why men didn’t crash your door down, Moira.”

A little wrinkle crossed her forehead.

“Women who look like you intimidate the crap out of most men. They think for sure you’ll shoot them down in a ball of flames. You’re so extraordinarily exotic, only a fearless man would try to approach you.”

“Your cargo hold is full of manure isn’t it?” She slid back on the couch, but not far enough to escape him.