thought, slowly stepping back into the hallway.
She ignored the little twinge of guilt she felt about her “investigation,” thinking that in the short time she was in his room, she had learned much about him.
Marshall Grainger was wealthy beyond belief—that was a given. He was also a man who lived life stripped to the bone, despite all the clothing. His bathroom vanity held nothing but the bare essentials, including what Jen knew was a very expensive bottle of cologne. She hadn’t smelled it on him so far. She wondered if he’d been wearing it when he’d left for Houston. Perhaps he didn’t have any meetings or appointments to attend—maybe there was a woman there, waiting for him.
The very idea caused a strange twist in Jen’s chest, a twist that felt like jealousy. What would the woman be like? Beautiful? Of course. Sophisticated? Naturally. The strange jealousy she felt grew stronger. Was this woman his lover?
Bringing herself up abruptly, Jen quickly turned and went roaming through the rest of the house. It was absolutely gorgeous. Open rooms, one flowing into another. She stepped into one and somehow knew she had entered her office. It was roomy yet utilitarian, containing everything she would need. It even had two club chairs, one in front of the large desk, the other to one side. She liked it at once.
Exiting that room, Jen went to the next one: Marsh’s office. It was locked.
Walking back toward her apartment, Jen contemplated the situation. The beautiful house needed some care. She hadn’t been hired to clean, but damn, such a house should shine.
She sighed. She had all day tomorrow to herself with nothing pressing to do. A smile touched her lips as she made a decision. Tomorrow, she would clean the big house, just to see if the boss noticed anything different.
Of course, Jen assured herself as she mounted the stairs to her apartment, her decision had nothing to do with pleasing him. Why should it? She had nothing to prove except her ability as his assistant. It didn’t matter what Marshall Grainger thought of her.
Did it?
She suddenly imagined herself back in Marsh’s bedroom, tidying it up, making it perfect for his return. When she remembered that his room was already spotless and that there was no need for her to go back in there, she blushed, hot and fierce, and promised to push all thoughts of Marsh from her mind for the rest of the night.
Marsh sat across the table from the beautiful woman his business acquaintance had introduced him to mere hours ago. Admittedly, Marsh was on the prowl, itchier than usual for a woman. Without a twinge of conscience, he had invited the woman—Chandra was her name—to have dinner with him that evening. But now, after several hours, her appeal had faded, through no real fault of her own. She couldn’t help it if she wasn’t Miss Jennifer Dunning.
When Chandra looked at him expectantly, he realized she was waiting for some kind of response. He hadn’t a clue what she was talking about; he hadn’t exactly been paying attention. He took a chance and nodded, and that appeared to satisfy her.
Being inattentive, his conscience kicked into action.
What in hell am I doing here?
Marsh knew the answer—he simply didn’t want to look at it too closely. He had been hoping for a bed partner later in the evening, and Chandra had seemed a good choice. Now all he wanted was a bed to himself.
That wasn’t quite true, either.
In truth, he ached for one woman: Jennifer Dunning.
He had been in her company … how long? Not much more than an hour or so, total? It was ridiculous. Plus, she was now an employee, and he never fooled around with employees. Of course, other than the previous housekeeper, who was pushing fifty, he had never had an employee living in his home, either. What was it about her that got to him so strongly?
“… and I told him he could just go to hell.”
Marsh blinked himself back into the moment. “You did?” he asked, because Chandra had paused again and he knew he had to say something.
“Certainly,” Chandra declared. “The man insulted me by assuming I’d go to bed with him a few hours after meeting him.”
Marsh gave her a wry smile. “Yes, of course,” he agreed. “I don’t blame you in the least.” He almost added “the cad” but thought that might be a bit over the top.
“Ah, here’s dinner now,” she said, satisfaction curving her lips as the server placed their meals before them.
After dinner, Marsh drove Chandra straight home to her condo on the outskirts of the city. “You don’t need to get out,” she said, even though he hadn’t made a move to do so. “It’s perfectly safe.”
“Yes, I see the doorman,” he said, eyeing the burly uniformed man standing sentinel by the entrance.
“Thank you for a lovely dinner,” she said, as the doorman strolled forward to open the door for her.
“Thank you for joining me,” he answered, hoping his tone didn’t reveal his relief. He politely added, “I’m glad you were free for the evening.”
“And I.” She smiled with a tinge of disappointment, and slid from the seat.
Marsh never liked disappointing a lady—even one who seemed to have given him a line about not going to bed with a man hours after meeting him—but his mind was clearly elsewhere this evening. He’d put the Jag he kept in Houston into Drive before she’d reached the doorway, and Jen was back on his mind by the time he pulled into traffic.
Why the hell had he hired her?
Marsh sighed. He had hired Jen because he was getting desperate. She was intelligent, personable, fully qualified, friendly and willing to do the cooking.
Yet, he had to admit, she was the reason he had come to Houston. After meeting her, when the touch of her hand made his palm—and parts south—itch, and when that itch had swiftly turned into a familiar warmth that spread through his body, he knew he was in trouble.
He wanted her. He had wanted her within minutes of meeting her, and it had played hell with his normally sound judgment. So, afraid he’d do or say something unacceptable, he manufactured a business trip to put some distance between them, calling his friend Scott to set up a meeting in Houston. To his confused embarrassment, after sitting across the breakfast table from Jen that morning, he couldn’t get to the airstrip soon enough. He had arrived forty-five minutes earlier than he had asked his pilot to be there.
Marsh kept the plane primarily to get from his house in Dallas to the ranch in Colorado in a hurry if he needed to, but used it himself for quick trips like this one. Except that this trip had been unnecessary. He felt like an idiot, getting all hot and sweaty over a woman he had just met. Sure he had been all hot and sweaty over women before, like his previous wife, but he had been a lot younger then. And look where that had gotten him.
Well, the heat was gone now and so was the sweat. Marsh was resolved to revert to form—cool and aloof. He just had to remember that Jen was an employee, nothing more.
Cool and aloof, that would be his mantra.
Marsh could only hope.
Satisfyingly
