I couldn't help but wonder if she and Royce had ever had a relationship. Office affairs were the most common, after all. If they had, well, I'd-I'd-I didn't know what I'd do. Royce and I had slept together, yes, and he'd asked me to marry him. But I'd said no, so I couldn't really demand he fire his assistant and hire a fat old woman who smelled like mothballs and cheese. Better yet, a fat old man who smelled like mothballs and cheese.
Still, I knew how it felt to yearn for the attention of a man I couldn't have. (See any and all mentions of my marriage to Richard the Bastard for proof).
Be nice, be nice, be nice. Polite smile in place, I glided past her. "Good day to you, my good woman." Her features lit with astonishment, but she didn't try to stop me. I didn't knock on Royce's office door, but swept inside.
When I saw him seated at his desk, head bowed, I came to an abrupt halt. "I believe I have the ten-thirty appointment."
His eyes lifted from the papers on his desk and our gazes met. Blue against gray. Pleasure against pleasure. He offered me a warm, sexy smile. "I'm glad you could make it."
God, he looked good. Really, really good. Instead of skin and boxers, he wore a suit, minus the tie. His white button shirt was open at the collar. His hair looked like rumpled black silk, as if he'd just rolled out of bed.
"How do you feel?" he asked, setting the papers aside. He leaned back in his chair and rested one of his elbows against the armrest.
"Much better. Thank you for taking care of me."
"That was my pleasure."
Pleasure…yes, pleasure. I needed more of it. As I stared over at him, all my desires, all my body's needs, leapt to life. My (bra-less) nipples hardened, my mouth watered. I had to have this man again-and soon.
I wanted Royce in my life. I did. I'd already promised myself I could seduce him, but in that moment I admitted I wanted a sexually exclusive relationship. For as long as I could have him.
"My God," he suddenly breathed.
"What?" Automatically, I stepped back.
"Your dress."
So he'd noticed. Grinning inwardly, I twirled. The red hem danced around my knees. "Do you like it?"
"Darlin'," he said in a delicious Texas accent. "I don't think I've ever seen anything more beautiful." Standing, he propped his palms on the desk. "You're driving me crazy-you know that, don't you?"
"I'm glad."
"Glad?" he asked, incredulous. "You should be apologizing. I left an out-of-state meeting to see you. I think about you all the time. I dream about you."
"Well-" I licked my lips and gathered my courage "-you're driving me crazy, too. Where's my apology?"
"I'm willing to give you anything you want, sweetheart. I just wish you'd ask for more than an apology."
"All right. I have a question for you and I'd like an honest answer," I said, settling in a chair. I set my briefcase at my feet and folded my hands together in my lap. Very prim, very proper. "Have you and Elvira ever slept together?"
His face wrinkled in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"Your assistant. Have you ever slept with her?"
"Hannah? God, no."
Truth lay in his surprise and intensity, and I found myself breathing easier. "I know it's not any of my business, but-"
"Of course it's your business. Just like any other men in your life are my business." He paused, daring me to contradict him. When I didn't, he added, "There aren't any other men, are there?"
"No, of course not. I can barely tolerate you."
He plopped back into his seat with a snort.
Before the conversation delved into any talk of rings, flowers or babies, I hurriedly changed the subject. I had the information I'd wanted. "Did you sign me up for this appointment because you wanted to give me my present?"
"No." He slowly grinned. "I told you, you have to come to my place for that."
My shoulders slumped a little. "I'm here for business, then. All right, well, I know you're busy, so let's get this over with." I reached in my briefcase, pulled out two pieces of paper and handed them to him. "As you can see I've made an itemized list of things I need to be reimbursed for and things I still need to purchase, with estimated cost, as well as a list of businesses requiring deposits from you. For the first list, I need money. I accept all types of cash. Small bills, large bills, wadded bills. Extra-crisp bills. For the second list, signed checks will work."
Without protest, he opened his wallet and handed me every piece of green paper in it. I inhaled deeply. Ah, the smell of real money.
"That's eight hundred dollars. A little more than you're asking for on your list, but you never know if something will cost more than estimated."
He trusted me with his money, the dear, sweet man. "You'll notice that I need to make a down payment to the caterer as soon as possible so we can concretely reserve the desired date. However, I can't do that until you've decided on a location. Which brings me to my next point of business. Location. Have you chosen yet? The sample invitation is printed and ready for approval." I pulled my notebook from my bag, flipped it open and lifted the invitation. "All it's missing is the address."
He took the sample from me and gave the burgundy coloring and gold lettering a thorough inspection. "Wow. You're good. My mother will like it, too," he added, knowing I'd ask. "As for the location, I don't know yet."
"Why not?" I shoved to my feet, fearing his next words.
"I want to visit a cabin in Oklahoma."
"Out of the question. It's too late in the game."
"We leave in four days. I've already made arrangements."
"But-but-"
"Don't worry. We'll have fun."
"I'm not flying again. I won our bet in Colorado, and you swore I wouldn't have to step foot in another plane. Is that correct?"
"Yes. That's correct."
"Then I don't have to go to Oklahoma. You can't make me."
His lips lifted in another slow smile, this one a wicked grin of pure pleasure. "I can make you. We're driving. It's only a three-hour drive, sweetheart."
I crossed my arms over my chest. I did not want to rough it in some primitive cabin. How sexy could I look then? "My answer is still no."
"I'm afraid you don't have a choice. I'm paying you triple, remember?"
"I refuse to go. Do you understand me?"
"Great. Try to be ready by three on Friday."
Chapter Seventeen
An apology is a curse word to a Tigress. By admitting guilt, you are saying your actions were wrong. A Tigress is never wrong.
I spent the next several mornings shopping for table centerpieces. Finally I found shiny, to-die-for "magic" lamps. I bought bags of fake gemstones and planned to glue them around the lamps' bellies.
In the afternoons, I waited at Jonathan's office and followed him on his lunch hour. He and Nora had lunch together only once, and they hadn't done anything sexual, hadn't even kissed. I couldn't decide whether I wanted to snap his neck for that or hug him. Whether he was cheating or not, I just didn't know anymore. Why continue to lie to my mom, though, if he was an innocent man?
I had tried to listen to his conversations with Nora, but I just hadn't been able to get close enough to them.
Wednesday afternoon, I followed Jonathan to a nearby park. He met his daughter, Rachel, and his granddaughter there. I recognized them from the photo I'd found. The three of them I played and talked and laughed, appearing to all the world like a happy family. But seeing them together made me sad. I'd never had that with my real dad. He'd lived and died a bastard. I'd never really had that with Jonathan, either, because, even though I loved him, I'd always set myself a little apart from him.