"You already know I like to ride." He nodded. "Well, I also like to play tennis and swim, and..." She grinned. "I like going shopping."
He gave her a wry look. "I'll ride with you. I'll play tennis with you. I'll swim with you. We can go out to dinner, maybe even a movie now and again, but I draw the line at shopping."
She laughed. "Okay." She arched one brow. "But you'll still be the boss."
Smiling, he arched a brow right back at her. "During working hours, of course."
Jen nodded agreement. "Of course."
"But understand one thing, Jennifer," he went on, his voice now serious. "I fully intend to continue asking you to marry me until you say yes."
Jen froze. She should have known he was being too easy to get along with. Her silence must have warned him she was about to protest because he went still, too, his gaze hard on hers.
"I promise I won't force the issue."
"Okay," she said uncertainly.
"Now, promise you won't bolt to your car the minute I go into my office?" His voice was now a combination of suspicion and amusement.
Deciding the man was capable of driving a woman to drink-or dive straight into his arms-Jen nodded, lifted her hand to cross her heart with her forefinger and said, "I promise." She let a moment pass before adding, "I couldn't anyway. Most of my clothes are in your washer and dryer. But," she said as he turned to go, forcing him to turn back around, "I won't sleep with you at your beck and call." She hesitated a brief moment then added, "But I might, if I'm in the mood."
For a moment Marsh simply stared at her, then, surprising her, he agreed. "In that regard, you're the boss, and you'll call the shots."
Staring at him in wonder, Jen said, "Okay. Thank you."
"You're welcome. You know what?" He didn't wait for an answer. "You're cute when you're confused." Shaking his head he turned and walked back into his office, laughing. The echo of his bone-melting laughter lingered in her mind long after he had closed the door to his office.
Jennifer heaved a deep sigh. It simply wasn't fair for one man to be so damn attractive in so damn many ways. Of course, she knew she couldn't accept his proposal, such as it was. But it should be interesting to be "courted" by him.
Temptation whispered in the back of her mind: grab him while his offer stands.
Was she nuts? Possibly sharing his bed on occasion was one thing, but marriage? Shaking the very idea out of her head, Jen resumed climbing the stairs, and decided she'd stay upstairs-away from Marsh-for a while. Her heart was still pounding wildly and she wasn't quite sure she trusted herself around the man. She grabbed her book and sat, determined to keep any and all thoughts of Marsh from her mind by losing herself in the trials and tribulations of someone else's life for a while.
The story, a contemporary romance written by one of her favorite authors, immediately grabbed her attention. Within a few minutes, Jen's imagination slipped her into the role of heroine. It didn't take many pages, which Jen turned with increasing speed, before it became obvious the author was adeptly maneuvering the protagonists into a love scene.
What had started out with ever-increasing sensual banter quickly became heated. Without realizing it, Jen's body had grown taut, her breathing quick and shallow.
She turned a page and-
Her cell phone rang. Startled out of the hot and heavy scene, Jen muttered a curse and turned the book page down before answering the call.
"Jennifer, why haven't you come home for a visit, or at least called me?" Celia demanded imperiously.
At the sound of her mother's voice, an image flashed into Jen's mind of her mother in the throes of sex with a man who was not her husband. Would that awful image haunt her for the rest of her life? She dreaded the very idea.
Drawing a deep breath, she pushed the image aside. "I've been busy, Mother," she said, her voice a hair above a tremor. Her mother didn't seem to notice her distress. Of course, she thought, that was exactly like her mother.
"Surely you get weekends off," Celia snapped back. "He can't work you seven days a week."
He might try. Jen smiled at the very idea. "Of course not," she said. "This past weekend I drove to San Antonio to do some shopping."
"And last weekend and the weekend before that?" Celia's tone held a pout.
"Mother," she began, smothering an impatient sigh. That's as far as she got.
"Well, you absolutely must come home next weekend." Not a request, a command.
Indeed? Jen's eyebrows arched. "Why?" she asked, too politely.
"Don't you dare take that tone with me, Jennifer." Celia sounded on the verge of losing it. "The Terrells' Halloween masked ball is next Saturday, and as you are well aware, we always attend."
Oh, well then, why didn't you tell me at once? I wouldn't dream of missing the Terrells' annual Halloween romp, Jen thought, her lips curling into a grimace. William Terrell-not Bill, never Bill, but always William-was the man in bed with her mother that awful night. His wife, Annette, was the woman with Jen's father.
"Mother, you know I have never cared for that party," she said, forcing herself to remain calm. "And I wasn't planning to attend this year. I'm not sure if I can make-"
"You will be here," her mother insisted. "For heaven's sake, Jen, all your friends will be there. They will be expecting to see you there, as well."
"Mother, I have been corresponding with my friends ever since I arrived here. I know for a fact that none of my gang is attending the party-they haven't in years," she said. "As a matter of fact, they feel as I do about it."
"And that is?" Celia asked.
"That we're past it. Our lives have gone in different directions. If you'll recall, the girls who always attend are no longer my friends. And they're still into the social scene. I've attended the Terrells' party because they are your closest friends." She nearly choked on the word friends.
"But-"
Jen quickly cut her off. "My true friends were never part of the social scene. All of us are into a different lifestyle." She gave a soft chuckle. "We work. We enjoy working."
"But if you come home, you would still be able to see them," Celia said. "I could arrange something."
Celia could be very convincing when she wanted to be. Even though Jen had kept in touch with her friends online, it was never the same as being in their company. It would be fun to see them. Until that moment, she didn't realize how very much she had been missing them.
And getting away from Marsh right now couldn't hurt, given the way he was making her feel. Which was, basically, turned on. Constantly. Which led her to think about dangerous things, like marrying him.
Going home for a visit would give her some serious thinking time.
"Okay," she capitulated, "but I won't stay long."
"Come for lunch," Celia said, adding before Jen could refuse, "I'll invite your ‘gang,' as you insist on referring to them, to join us."
Jen made a face at the condescending inflection her mother had used with the word gang. Though she knew her mother held no animosity toward her friends, Celia still considered them beneath Jen. "What time?" she asked, suddenly tired and wanting the conversation to be over.
"Well," Celia now said with brisk satisfaction, "come early, but I'll invite the girls for one. Will that be all right with your schedule?"
"Yes, Mother." Jen gritted her teeth.
"Oh, and don't forget a costume." With that, her mother disconnected.
Great, Jen thought, resisting an urge to throw the phone across the room. A costume. She had forgotten the costume part of the stupid gala. She'd have to run into Dallas early, or possibly Friday evening, to pick up something suitable.
Maybe she'd go as a sexy vampire with long pointed teeth. That ought to make an impression.
The only question now was, how would Marsh react when she told him she was going home for a visit?
Or maybe the real question was, how would she feel being away from him for a few days?
She didn't like the answer she came up with...not one little bit.
Eight
Marsh began his courting campaign first thing on Monday morning, making Jen nervous before she'd even had her coffee.
Even at that early hour it was already warm outside and the weather forecast was for the temperature to rise into the eighties by the afternoon. After breakfast he said, "How about a game of tennis followed by a swim?"