The Boss's Virgin(10)

       
           



       

He stayed there for a moment, their profiles almost touching, watching  her sideways, trying to gauge her expression, then at last he  straightened, walked to the chair at the other side of the table and sat  down opposite her.

'You help yourself, while I inspect what we have here.'

Eyes lowered, still trembling after the touch of his mouth on her skin,  the scent of his body, she took more salad, a little cheese, a slice of  chicken breast, a little mayonnaise, then a piece of the wholewheat  bread. When she offered Randal the glass salad bowl, without looking at  him, he took it, saying, 'I haven't eaten all day. All I had for  breakfast was coffee and orange juice.'

'They say you should always have breakfast. Have you been staying here long?'

'No, I've been at another long conference. I seem to spend a lot of time  at them.' He helped himself to wholegrain mustard. 'I don't spend much  time in my own home.'

'Do you still live in the same house?' Making posmall talk helped to  pass the time and she hoped it would lighten the atmosphere, making her  nerves less tense, the situation seem less threatening. After all, what  threat did he pose to her. He might make a pass, but she only had to  reject him; he wasn't the type to turn dangerous.

Was he?

What did she know about him, though? She had known him for a few weeks,  five years ago. How did she really know what sort of man he was?

'No, I moved to a flat; it made life simpler. Someone comes in twice a  week to clean. I eat out a lot, or have a salad, or scrambled  eggs-something I can cook myself. Johnny has a room of his own in the  flat, of course, but he's only there during the school holidays. He  seems to like it, though.'

'Have you actually asked him if he minded moving home, as well as going away to school?'

He shot her a wry glance. 'No, I haven't-you think I should?'

Pippa shrugged. 'It's a bit late now; you've presented him with a fait  accompli. But next time you take a major decision that will affect him,  I'd certainly ask him first.'

He leaned back in his chair, surveying her with half-lowered lids. 'If I wanted to get married again, for instance?'

Her eyes opened wide. 'Well … yes … ? Her heart skipped a beat; her skin  turned cold. 'Is that on the cards? Are you thinking of marrying again?'  Not Miss Dalton? She thought, aware of a sense of shock. No, it must be  someone new.

'Maybe,' he drawled. 'Do you think I should consult my son before committing myself?'

'Does he know her?'

'Not yet.'

'Well, I should make sure they get on well before you make any definite decision.'

She concentrated on her food, angrily conscious of a burning pain inside  her stomach whenever she thought of Randal marrying again. It was  stupid to be jealous-she had no right to care what he did. She was  getting married herself. It was four years since she had worked in his  office, four years since she had seen him, talked to him, been crazy  enough to let him kiss her. A lot had happened to her in the years since  then. She had grown up, learnt a lot more about the world. She had been  a romantic, wide-eyed, innocent child four years ago. Now she was a  woman and Randal Harding was nothing to her.

'How long have you known your insurance salesman?' he asked, and she  looked up, her heart crashing like an exploding plane as she met those  brilliant grey eyes.

How could she keep telling herself he was nothing to her if her body  kept betraying her every time she met his eyes? The minute she'd seen  him again, the night of the accident, she had been instantly overwhelmed  by those old feelings. She had tried to convince herself she had  forgotten him, but she had been lying.

'Four years,' she said curtly.

'Since you ran away from me, in other words?'

'I didn't run away!' she crossly denied, resenting the way he put it.

'You walked?' he dryly mocked.

'I just decided to get another job,' she corrected, her green eyes  defying him. How dared he talk to her like that when he was planning to  get married again himself? 'And I found this job with the insurance  company, and started working for Tom.'

'How long before you went out with him?'

She bristled, her face hot, her nerves jumping. 'Why do you keep on at  me like the Inquisition? My private life is nothing to do with you at  all.' It had, in fact, been a very long time before she accepted a date  with Tom, but she knew what Randal would make of that confession, so she  was not going to admit it.                       
       
           



       

'Are you in love with him?'

'I'm not answering any more questions!' She leaned over and picked up  the coffee pot. 'I'm going to have some coffee-would you like some?'

'Please. Black, no sugar.'

She poured the coffee and gave him his cup, took her own cup over to the  couch. As she sat down and put her cup on the coffee table in front of  her she realised she should have sat down in a chair, but it was too  late. Randal had followed her and was sitting down beside her, his long  legs stretched out, one thigh touching hers. She would have felt stupid  if she had got up and moved to a chair, it would have been some sort of  betrayal.

'If you aren't in love with him, why are you marrying him?' he murmured.

'I didn't say I wasn't in love with him!'

'Ah, but you didn't say you were! And that was as good as an admission.'

'I didn't answer because you had no right to ask the question!'

'If you were in love, why wouldn't you want to admit it?'

Conversation with him was like trying to make your way through a  minefield. She was terrified of every step. Furiously, she looked round  at him, glaring. 'Will you stop asking me questions?' But that was a  mistake, too, because he was closer than she had realised. She found  herself looking into grey eyes which were just inches away, and  swallowed convulsively.

'What's the matter, Pippa?' he silkily asked.

'Nothing! I don't know what you mean!' she blustered.

'Oh, yes, you do,' he whispered, and before she could back away his head swooped down; his mouth took hers with fierce demand.

She struggled in a desperate effort to get away, but his body shifted to  hold her back against the couch, his wide shoulders pinning her down.  She pushed him away without making any impact on him at all. He was far  too powerful and she was shaking too much to be able to make him shift.

The heat of his mouth was burning her up. Her lips parted, her eyes closed, her pulses beating wildly.

It was like rushing back through time to the day when he last kissed  her; she couldn't think, could only fed, given up entirely to the  pleasure and intense sweetness of his mouth on hers, his body lying  across her. Her hands went round his neck and closed in his thick, dark  hair. The pressure of his chest, his thighs, deepened; his fingers  caressed and stroked, moving from her shoulders to her breasts,  awakening her body to sensations she had never felt before. She wanted  to be naked in his arms, to feel his touch with even more intensity.

From time to time in the last four years she had had dreams like this,  woken from deep sleep drowsily, still trembling from the passion of his  kiss, lain there crying, aching. She had suppressed the memory of those  dreams, refused to think about them, or him, and gradually they had come  less often-but they had not stopped entirely, and now they were  visiting her again, but this time the dream was reality. This time she  was in his arms, giving in to the temptation to kiss him back, to yield.

Randal lifted his mouth slowly to look down at her. Pippa kept her own  eyes shut, trembling violently. She dared not meet his stare. She knew  what he would be seeing, how she must look to him-weak, flushed, her  mouth still parted and swollen from his kisses, still drowning in the  desire pulsing through her.

'Now tell me you love him,' he huskily challenged.

She forced her eyes open, their pupils distended with passion. 'I'm going to marry him!'

'You must be insane. You won't be happy, either of you. He'll soon  realise you don't love him and then he's going to hate you. He'll feel  conned, trapped, and your lives together will be hell.'

'You don't know enough about us to make a prophesy like that!'

'I know about bad marriages,' he said flatly, and she winced.

'Just because you had a bad marriage doesn't mean Tom and I will. We're  very different people. Tom's sweet and kind and caring, and I wouldn't  hurt him for worlds. I certainly won't have affairs with other men. I'm  not the type.'

'I could have an affair with you,' he said huskily, his mouth brushing the soft lobe of her ear, and she shuddered.

'Don't kid yourself! You may be vain enough to think you only have to  snap your fingers to get any woman you want, but you wouldn't get me!'

'I just did,' he whispered. 'A minute ago you were in my arms and you  weren't struggling. I could have got your clothes off and had you, don't  deny it. It was me who called a halt, not you.'