Secret Baby Spencer. Jule McBride
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Forget it, Seth thought. A relationship with Dom simply couldn’t have progressed to the point where they were getting married. Seth had only left New York six weeks ago! Besides, he, not Dom, had been dating Jenna for the past year and a half. Sure, deep down he’d wanted to head back to New York and claim her, but Seth had known that was impractical. He had a bank to run.
Yesterday, however, he’d begun considering calling Jenna in Manhattan, to see if she’d changed her mind and might want to keep in touch with him. He’d barely admitted it to himself at the time, but he’d been considering suggesting that Jenna fly to Tyler for a long weekend visit…. Seth hadn’t been sure he should take that risk, though.
And now Jenna was in Tyler. Just moments ago she’d been half naked and lying across his desk, too, and now Seth simply couldn’t grasp what was happening. Had Jenna really said she was marrying Dom Milano?
She didn’t bother to answer his question. He watched in stupefaction as she straightened her top, then he listened to the rustling fabric of tights as her endlessly long, showgirl legs scissored toward the door. As furious as he was, he had to admit he was affected by her graceful movements. She looked like she was dancing, not fleeing his office as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. When she turned, Seth was pleased to see her chin quivering. It was a show of weakness virtually unknown to Jenna, and while he wasn’t proud of it, Seth hoped she was feeling even guiltier than that uncharacteristic tremor indicated, especially if she was really marrying Dom.
But she’s not. She can’t be. It’s impossible. Besides, even if she was, why would she come all the way to Tyler. Once more Seth reminded himself that for the past year and a half she’d been dating him, not Dom, then pure fury whipped through him. Had Jenna been sleeping with Dom while she was seeing Seth?
He drew in a deep, steadying breath, but his mind continued to race. He had a million questions, but he was far too much of a man to make himself vulnerable. He just wished he couldn’t so easily see Dom’s appeal, but Dom was one of those sexy, swarthy Italians women always swooned over. He looked like a younger, taller Al Pacino, and he managed to share female interests without ever seeming unmasculine. He was a clotheshorse, for instance, just like Jenna, and Dom could talk as enthusiastically about street rumbles he’d fought during his youth in Little Italy as he could about other things Jenna loved so dearly, such as art shows and foreign films.
Grinding his teeth, Seth had a flash fantasy in which Dom was translating Italian movie subtitles for Jenna in a seductive voice, and then Seth tried not to recall the knowing look in Dom’s teasing, flashing dark eyes. Dom very definitely possessed the kind of challenging male gaze that promised a woman passion, and as he visualized that insinuating look, Seth’s fingers curled, knotting into tight, angry fists.
“I’d prefer to keep the specifics of my relationship with Dom private,” Jenna was saying stiffly from her place at the door. “But I—I thought you should, uh, at least know what was happening. Actually, Dom insisted you be told this. And…well, Seth, there’s something else I really need to tell you now….”
“I’ve heard enough already,” he growled under his breath, shoving his clenched hands deep into the pockets of his trousers, largely so she wouldn’t see him fidget and realize how affected he was by this news. “Jenna,” he continued, raising his voice but managing to keep it thoroughly controlled. “Let’s stick with Dom for the moment. If you’re marrying him, why didn’t you bother to tell me when you waltzed into my office?”
“How could I? You didn’t give me a chance!” she burst out, her voice still hoarse and tinged with arousal, the dark color that suffused her cheeks deepening to a guilty scarlet.
“You’re right about that,” he muttered, unable to take his eyes from her as he thrust a frustrated hand through his short dark hair. Gritting his teeth, he decided she had some nerve looking so damn gorgeous, standing against the door, so tall and slender, her scrap of a skirt topping those annoyingly long, luscious legs that had been wrapped around his waist just minutes ago, squeezing the breath out of him.
Seth bit back a groan. He’d missed her so much. Even now, her silken red-streaked hair looked too touchable, feathering against poreless cheeks that had been as smooth as water under his mouth. Her lips were swollen, berry-red and pleasantly bruised from the needy, insistent crush of his kisses. Despite the situation, looking at her made heat pool in his belly, filling him with ravenous lust all over again. He glanced at the desk, then blew out a murderous sigh.
“Okay,” he forced himself to say, moving toward her, his mind whirling, his voice taking on a harder edge. “You’re absolutely right, I didn’t give you a chance to talk to me when you got here, but you didn’t exactly complain about it, did you, Jenna?” Hadn’t she come here for exactly what he’d given her? Hadn’t she been going crazy without him? His mind still couldn’t quite process what she’d said about Dom. “What did you expect me to do?” he bit out when she didn’t respond, suddenly unable to contain his uncertainty any longer.
“Expect you to do?”
“Yes…when you come all the way here to Tyler and waltz into my office dressed like that.”
She stared down, looking appalled. “Dressed like what?”
She knew what. Seth’s lips parted in shock as his eyes drifted upward, over the sinfully short skirt, to the powdery lace top that so snugly cupped her full breasts. The collar wasn’t fully buttoned, and even from here, Seth could see ample cleavage. No, he decided, it definitely wasn’t his imagination. Jenna’s outfit was calculated to drive a man wild. And it had worked.
She was surveying him with nonchalance that had to be feigned. “What happened is all my fault, I assume?”
As if I attacked her. “Since when is making love anybody’s fault?” he couldn’t help but challenge.
“We had sex,” she corrected.
“You seem committed to keeping that distinction clear,” he muttered. No doubt, because she really intended to marry Dom. Realizing he was standing numbly in front of her, like a fool, Seth lifted a hand and leaned it against the door’s molding, conscious of the fact—but hardly caring—that he’d trapped her against the wall. Warring emotions ripped through him as his gaze dropped, tracing the rose swell of breasts he’d just palmed and tortured with his tongue. Breasts, if the truth be told, he’d come to secretly think belonged to him. Dammit! Surely he’d heard her wrong. That, or he was neck-deep in denial. But he wasn’t, was he? Earlier today hadn’t Molly Blake said Jenna adored him?
“This is definitely your fault,” he suddenly said, knowing he was contradicting himself, but unable to help it since befuddling his mind was only one of the many things Jenna Robinson did so well to him. “You damn well know how I react to tights with dark seams, high-heeled boots and leather miniskirts, Jen.”
She swallowed hard, color flooded her cheeks, and as he curiously watched the pulse ticking in her neck, Seth was suddenly sure she’d worn the provocative clothes on purpose. Oh, yes, Jenna had had every intention of arousing him. Making love with her hadn’t fully cured him of his desire, either, he thought angrily, his groin traitorously aching. But why the incredible claim she was marrying Dom Milano?
“When I dressed this morning, I wasn’t thinking,” she now defended with unnerving calm. Showing a spark of the usual Jenna, her glittering green eyes now settled on his, holding a dare. “But then, I