"I think you'd do better staying right here," he said, not quite an order but close enough.
"Then you can think again," she said, none too sweetly. "I'm going."
And that's when the cold front moved in.
They didn't speak to each other for the rest of the night. The next morning, while clearing away the dishes after a silent breakfast, Jen felt as if she was about to scream. Why was he acting like this? What did he expect she would do over the weekend-have a mad, wild fling with some mysterious man at the party? Is that why he had felt compelled to inform her-no, warn her-about the availability of bedrooms at the Terrells'?
Jen was building up a head of angry steam merely thinking about his manner. Without a word, she started walking out of the kitchen toward her office.
"Jennifer."
The snap in his tone stopped her cold. At the end of her patience, she whirled around to glare at him. "What?" Her tone had a decided bite.
"Go now," he said. "If you work the day, you'll have to drive to Dallas in the dark."
As if she hadn't known that, Jen thought. It was the end of October. Was he that eager to get her out of his sight? A pang zinged in her chest. Fine, she thought. I'll give the man what he wants.
She changed course from her office to the stairway.
Marsh came after her, coming to a stop one step below her. "Jen, wait," he said, his long fingers circling her wrist, his voice softening. "You are coming back, aren't you?"
Slowly turning, she gave him an arch look. "Well, I was planning on doing so, but if you keep snarling at me, I'll come back just to collect my stuff."
"Was I snarling?" While Marsh spoke, he was gently tugging on her wrist, slowly drawing her closer to him. "I realize I might have been a bit brusque, but snarling?"
His distinctive scent, his sheer maleness sent shivers rushing up her spine. Her heart began to thump, her breathing catch in her throat.
"Marsh," she managed to whisper when he raised her hand close to his face.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured, lowering his head to touch his warm lips to her pounding pulse. "The last thing in this world I want to do is hurt you."
Jen's heartbeat seemed to stop altogether as his lips moved to the center of her palm. A warm sensation fluttered deep inside her. She had to get out of there, she thought, fighting an impulse to thread her fingers through his dark hair, lift his mouth to hers. If she didn't go now, at once, she'd be melting all over him, curling her arms around him, begging him to take her to his bed.
No, no, no. The word rang through her mind as she backed up a step, pulling her hands away from the temptation of his mouth, his body.
"Marsh, I'm going." Jen continued to back away, fighting her need for him every step of the way. To her relief-and also chagrin-he didn't follow her. But his gaze, a blaze of silvery-blue desire, tracked her every move.
"Have a good visit with your parents and your friends, Jennifer." His sensually soft voice stroked every nerve in her body. "And behave yourself."
Behave herself? Jen was suddenly fuming again. The man could make her crazy in an instant-it was amazing. Fortunately she had reached the landing as she spun to glare down at him, her nerves jangling now for an altogether different reason.
"I am not a child, Mr. Grainger," she said distinctly through gritted teeth. "And you will not speak to me as if I were. That is, if you would like me to come back."
He offered not an apology, as she had expected, but a blatantly sexy smile. "Oh, you'll come back, sweet Jen, because I know you want me as much as I want you."
Oh, hell, Jen thought. She did want him, dammit, here, now, right on the stairs. Shocked by how weak she was, how weak and needy he could so easily make her, she spun around and strode down the hallway to her apartment.
"Yes, you may go," he said, sounding more like a stern parent than an employer, never mind a lover.
"And you can go to hell, Marshall," she called back at him, slamming the door shut behind her.
Jen grabbed the carry-on she had packed that morning and turned to take a quick look at herself in the mirror. She hardly recognized the person looking back at her, a woman whose face was flushed with anger, frustration and more desire than she knew what to do with.
It was a good thing she was leaving for the weekend.
Opening the door just enough to peek out, Jen sighed her relief that Marsh was gone and dashed down to the garage. Tossing her stuff into the trunk, she jumped into the driver's seat and took off as though the devil himself was after her.
* * *
Why didn't I even say goodbye to her?
The question nagged at Marsh long after Jen's car had disappeared from view. Hell, it was less than an hour since she had driven away and already he was missing her. He was missing everything about her.
If he was honest with himself, Marsh knew damn well why he hadn't carried her bag and walked her to her car like a gentleman. He was sulking like a spoiled kid because he hadn't had his own way.
Still, he admired her for defying him. He admired her for everything she was-tough, unafraid and soft and sweet...at times.
This was the second time he'd managed to drive her away. What was he doing wrong? Marsh wasn't used to getting things wrong with women. He was used to his words and actions always having the desired effect, and to getting exactly what he wanted. But with Jen, it was completely different. There was something about her, something about the way she saw him-she didn't automatically do or say what he wanted. She thought for herself, and wasn't instantly swayed by whatever charm he was laying on.
As annoying as that was, it was also hotter than hell.
The days they had spent together "courting" were some of the best of his entire life. Besides her ability to stand on her own two feet, what was it about her that had so captured his interest and imagination?
She intrigued him. She was more than any other woman he had ever met-he didn't know how else to say it. And since Marsh couldn't explain it to himself, he'd never consider even trying to explain his feelings to anyone else.
Especially not to her.
He wanted her, wanted her more than any other woman he had ever met. He wanted her until he ached with the wanting, ached in his body and mind. But it was about more than that. It wasn't just the mind-blowing sex, it was...what?
It was nuts. That's what it was. It was totally and completely nuts. But there it was. As badly as he wanted to be a father, to have an heir, he needed more. He wanted her-and only her-to be the mother of his children.
The realization shocked him. It wasn't just that he wanted her to accept his business proposition so he could have what he wanted. It was that he wanted to build something with her, he wanted her by his side, he wanted her to be his partner in life.
He wanted...a life. With her. Period.
So what the hell was he supposed to do now?
* * *
At lunchtime, Jen stopped at a roadside pizza shop. Sitting in a booth at the window, she sipped iced tea as she glanced at the strip mall on the other side of the highway. Checking out the stores, her glance passed, then returned, to the second to last of them.
Holidays, Holidays, Holidays arched across the display window, which was decorated with everything Halloween.
Less than a half hour later, Jen parked the car in the lot close to the store. She was pleased to discover that the merchandise was of a much better quality than usually found in discount stores. After all, she couldn't show up at the gala in a cheap costume-her mother wouldn't hear of it.
"Need help?" a smiling woman asked from behind a cash register. "Or just browsing?"
Jen returned her smile. "I don't think I need help, just directions to the costumes."
The woman waved her arm. "They're along the back wall. That's what's left of them."
"Thanks," Jen said. "I'll have a look."
The woman hadn't been kidding-what was left on the wall was slim pickings. Still, one costume hanging near the end caught her eye at once.
"Perfect," she murmured, coming to a halt in front of a gypsy-girl outfit. She touched the full black skirt shot through with golden thread. Velvet? Jen thought, surprised. Her hand moved from the skirt to the off-the-shoulder loose blouse. Silk? Amazing. The garment was a deep red, the neckline and long sleeves trimmed with a wide ruffle.
Carmen. The name jumped into her head along with an image of the outfit worn by the sultry soprano who had performed the role of the lusty Carmen when Jen had attended the opera at the Met the last time she had visited New York City.