The Tycoon's Temporary Baby(26)

A sound came from the doorway. A man clearing his voice.

Jonathon whipped his head around and saw Wendy’s parents standing in the doorway. Her mom, a perfect, older version of Wendy, stood with her hands propped on her hips, but the teasing smile on her lips softened any reproach in her gaze. Wendy’s father, on the other hand, looked ready to throttle him.

With good reason.

The man had just caught him groping his daughter like a desperate teenager.

Wendy’s dad growled—actually growled—with displeasure and took a step toward him. Wendy’s mother grabbed her husband by the arm. Though the petite woman couldn’t possibly have had the strength to stop the man in his tracks, her touch still gave him pause.

“Wendy, your father and I will be waiting for you in the hall. Why don’t you come out in a minute when you’ve had a chance to get yourselves…under control.”

A moment later the guest bedroom door closed.

Jonathon rolled off Wendy, planted his feet firmly on the ground and dropped his head into his waiting hands.

What a mess.

Wendy’s parents—waiting in the hall with her dad looking as if he wanted to chew his ass out—were the least of his worries. Whatever criticism they’d deliver he’d take.

None of it would come even close to the talking to he was going to give himself. He’d completely lost control. For several moments there, he’d forgotten where they were. Forgotten that she wasn’t really his to take whenever he wanted. Forgotten that this was merely a sham.

Worse still, she hadn’t. Clearly, she’d manipulated the situation—manipulated him—all so that her family wouldn’t notice the fact that she’d obviously slept in the guest room. And it hadn’t even occurred to him that that’s what she had been doing.

He drew in several deep breaths, but barely felt calmer. The scent of her was heavy in the air, and with every breath she only seemed to fill more of the room, rather than less. That faint pepperminty smell that was uniquely her. His very hands seemed steeped in her.

He sat fully up, looking over his shoulder. She’d scrambled back into the corner of the bed, pressed against the headboard. She looked almost afraid of him. He didn’t blame her. His control felt too shaky just now to offer her any reassurances.

She bit down on her lip as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was a ridiculous effort, fixing that one strand of hair when the rest were still so mussed.

“I—” she started to say, then cleared her throat. “Boy, that was close.”

Not trusting himself to say anything just yet, he merely raised one eyebrow. Apparently she had no idea just how close that had been. Just how lucky she was that her parents had walked in, since he’d been about three minutes away from taking her right there.

“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I couldn’t think of any other way to distract them from the bed.”

He pushed himself to his feet. “I doubt your parents noticed the bed.”

She scrambled up onto her knees. “No. I mean, that was the idea, right?”

He gave a tight little nod, hating her a little bit in that moment. Or at least hating that she was still thinking coherently when he’d lost the ability. “Yeah,” he said as blandly as he could manage. “Apparently it was.”

“I—” She climbed off the bed, coming to stand right beside him. “I’m sorry.”

He was struck suddenly by how petite she was. Standing flat-footed beside him, the top of her head barely reached his chin. And yet, she never seemed small. She had more than enough personality to fill a woman half a foot taller. And more than enough strength of will to stand up to him.

He hadn’t been able to face her father without embarrassing himself a few minutes ago, but her endless stream of excuses certainly killed the mood. She hadn’t been as affected by the kiss as he had. Fine. But she could damn well stop harping on it.

“Stop apologizing,” he ordered. “We all make mistakes. I’m just not used to making such stupid ones.”

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but snapped it shut again when he brusquely smoothed down her hair. Then, since he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her, he pressed one quick kiss to her forehead. “Let’s go face your parents.”





Eight




Some things are embarrassing no matter what your age. Having your father stare down your boyfriend is one of them.

At seventeen, she and her boyfriend had been caught necking in the back of his truck. The make-out session had been bad enough. Worse still was the fact that her date had been high. Her father wasn’t very forgiving of that sort of thing. Never mind that she hadn’t known it at the time. She’d gotten reamed. He’d had the poor boy arrested. And had her hauled in and tested for drug use just to make a point. Was it any wonder the next year when she went to college she’d picked one thousands of miles away?