wife’s mouth opened under his and he swept her deep into his embrace as he kissed her. His back hit the wall but he scarcely noticed as Daniella came alive, hands in his hair, her mouth strong and ferocious against his.
Hunger thundered through his veins. His hips circled against hers involuntarily, uncontrollably as he sought to ease the ache she’d inflamed. With one hand, he enveloped her neck and pushed, tipping her head back so he could open her wider, then tentatively stroked her tongue with his.
She stroked him back, deeper, harder. Leo groaned against her mouth. She kissed like a horny teenager’s fantasy. Deep. Wet. Carnal.
Those perfect breasts haunted him. Touch them, his libido begged. The temptation was almost too much to bear, but he feared if he gave in to it, he might never surface.
Home. They could go home. Right now. They lived together, after all.
If he took her home, he could strip that dress away to taste every peak and valley of his wife’s body. Especially the parts he hadn’t yet seen but could feel easily through the silky drape of cloth over her luscious skin.
The kiss deepened, heating further, enflaming his skin. Desire screamed through his body. He’d never kissed a woman on a date quite like this. Hell, he’d never kissed a woman like this ever, not even in bed.
She was luring him into a dark pit of need and surfacing suddenly wasn’t so appealing.
He trailed openmouthed kisses along her throat and palmed her sexy rear again. Unbelievably, this incredible, stimulating woman was his. She moaned under his touch and her head fell back.
“Leo,” she murmured as he slipped a pin from her fancy done-up hair. “Don’t you need to go back?”
As if she’d thrown a bucket of water over him, his lust-hazed bubble burst. They were in the hallway of a hotel and his wife was reminding him of the importance of circulating at the alumni ceremony.
He pulled back to breathe the cool air of sanity. “I do.”
Her face remained composed, but a storm of desire brewed in her gaze, one he suspected would easily explode again with his touch. She’d been just as turned on as he had.
“Till later, then?” she asked.
Oh, no. That wouldn’t do at all. Focus, Reynolds.
At least four people he must speak with mingled in the ballroom less than a hundred yards away and his wife’s mussed hair and plump, kiss-stung lips alone threatened to steal his composure. If he had to suffer through the rest of the night while anticipating later, nothing of consequence would be accomplished.
You’re weak, the nasty voice of his conscience whispered. And that was the real reason he couldn’t lose his single-mindedness.
If he let himself indulge—in drawing, in a woman, in anything other than the goal—he’d be lost. Look what had just happened with a simple kiss.
He released her and his body cooled a degree or two. It wasn’t enough to erase the imprint of her in his senses. “I apologize. That was inappropriate. Please, take a few moments in the ladies’ room and meet me back in the ballroom. We’ll act as if that never happened.”
Disappointment replaced the desire in her expression and made him feel like a world-class jerk.
“If that’s what you want.”
It was absolutely not what he wanted. But distance was what he needed in order to get a measure of control.
This marriage should be the perfect blend of necessity and convenience. Should be. But the possibility of being friends was already out the window due to the curse of his weaknesses, and it would only get worse the further under his skin she dug.
“This is a business event and I haven’t been treating it like one.”
“Of course.” Her tone had become professional, as it should. Even in this, she remained poised, doing her duty as expected, because she wasn’t weak. She was thoroughly brilliant.
He hated putting up a barrier, but she’d become exactly what he’d suspected she would—a disturbance he couldn’t afford.
But she was also proving to be exactly what he’d hoped. The perfect complement of a wife. She deserved happiness and he’d provide no assurance of security—for either of them—if he took his eye off the success of Reynolds Capital Management for even a moment. His wife would not be forced into the poorhouse because of him, like his father had done to Leo’s mother.
No more digressions. It was too dangerous to kiss her. Or think about her as a friend.
Daniella was back in the employee box. She had to stay there.
How in the world was he going to forget what those strawberry-scented lips could do?
Leo was already gone by the time Dannie emerged from her bedroom the next morning. Even though she’d set an alarm, he still beat her.
She’d screwed up at the alumni gala. Leo had been kissing her—oh, my God, had he been kissing her—and then he hit the brakes. Of course work came first, and the woman behind the man should never forget that. But to pretend that kiss hadn’t happened? It was impossible. She wasn’t naive enough to believe she’d break through his shell in one evening, but she thought she’d lifted it a little at least.
At home, his obsession with work shouldn’t be a factor, especially before he left for the office. Tomorrow morning, she’d shove the alarm back thirty minutes. If she beat him to the kitchen, they’d have a chance to talk and maybe share a laugh. Then think about each other fondly over the course of the day.
All good elements of both friendship and marriage.
The next morning she missed him again, and continued to miss him for a week.
Four declined event appointments should have clued her in, but it wasn’t until she caught the startled look on his face when he came out of his bedroom one morning that she realized he’d been avoiding her.
“Good morning.” She smiled despite his wary expression and the fact that she’d been awake since five hoping to catch him.
“Morning.” He nodded and brushed past without another word.
Stung, she watched him retreat down the stairs and vowed not to think about Leo Reynolds the rest of the day. She had a job to do here.
Dannie spent an hour with the staff going over weekly household accounts, then interviewed a prospective maid to replace one who had given notice. She enjoyed organizing Leo’s life. At the alumni gala, she’d navigated Leo’s social circles, recovered from a humiliating dress fail and smiled through dinner with her husband’s ex-girlfriend.
What more could Leo possibly want in a wife?
At four o’clock, Leo texted her with a short message she’d come to expect: I’ll be home late. Make dinner plans on your own.
As
