Millionaire's Misbehaving Mistress Page 10

  She was mindless and shaking with need when Will finally settled between her thighs and slid into her in one smooth stroke. A hiss of pleasure escaped her as he settled into rhythm, one large hand resting on her hip to hold her in place as his body moved against hers.

  Will caught her shout of pleasure in his mouth as she reached her climax, and moments later, he gave it back to her as he reached his. He relaxed on top of her, burying his face in her neck, and she could feel the pounding of his heart against her chest. Heart racing, breath coming in short gasps, she closed her eyes to enjoy the feel of his weight on her as she rubbed gentle circles on his shoulders.

  Will finally lifted his head and kissed her softly before resting his forehead against hers.

  “Can you breathe?”

  She opened her eyes to see him staring at her, a bemused look on his face. Actual speech was out of the question for the moment, so she nodded.

  “Good. ’Cause I may never move from this spot.”

  Warmth pooled in her chest before she could remind herself not to read too much into his words. But she relished them anyway and savored the afterglow of the moment.

  When Will’s breathing finally evened out, he rolled to his back and snuggled her against his side. His hands traced lazy circles over her arms and back and she relaxed into a delicious haze.

  “Gwen?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re not falling asleep, are you?”

  Through her languor, she managed to crack one eye. Will’s half smile and hooded eyes immediately chased her laziness away. “Nope.”

  The smile broadened briefly before his lips captured hers again and he pulled her atop him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  GWEN smeared aloe gel over the sunburn coloring her nose and cheeks a bright red. Looked like her ears needed some, too. The burn didn’t hurt—yet—but it would before the night was out. She knew better than to hope it would fade to a tan; her fair skin only burned and peeled. Tanning was for people with better genetic luck.

  From the other room, she heard her sister’s ring tone for the third time in the last hour. Gwen ignored it as she examined the coloring on her neck and arms in the bathroom mirror. Sarah would just have to wait. She’d know something was up the second she heard Gwen’s voice, and Gwen didn’t feel like deconstructing the last twenty-four hours with her sister at the moment.

  Of course, that would assume she knew what to make of the last twenty-four hours. Which she didn’t. Not by a long shot.

  She’d slept late this morning, waking only when Evie returned from swimming and pounded on her door with “Gwen! Are you alive?”

  Gwen had a vague recollection of Will walking her to her own room in the wee hours of the morning. Exhausted and limp-limbed from Will’s lovemaking, she’d crawled under the covers and slept like the dead. Or at least like the dead with very erotic dreams.

  As she forced herself out of bed and crawled into the shower, she’d worried about facing Will in the light of day, worried about how she should act and what she could say. She worried about Evie figuring out how they’d spent the night before.

  But her worrying had been for nothing. Will was friendly, but not overly flirtatious, and Evie, as always, made an excellent buffer. Her chatter made awkward silences impossible, and Gwen surprised herself at the ease she felt these days around both Harrisons.

  So when Will handed her a cup of coffee and asked, “Do you like the Rangers?” she answered honestly and without thinking.

  “I don’t really know much about baseball.”

  Both Will and Evie gaped at her in shock. Will, it seemed, was a huge fan, and had converted Evie. Today would be Evie’s first live game, and Gwen found herself dragged along as both of them tried to indoctrinate her to the sport.

  She’d spent the afternoon at a Rangers game—just not in the HarCorp skybox as she’d assumed. Oh, no. Evie’s first American baseball game had to be spent in the stands, under the searing July sun, so she could get the full experience—hot dogs, popcorn and a huge foam finger to wave.

  And sunburned nose notwithstanding, Gwen had enjoyed it as much as Evie—although for slightly different reasons. She might not be a baseball fan after today, but…

  Gwen stared at the phone as it rang, debating how much longer she could ignore it and how many more times Sarah would try to call.

  “Sorry, Sarah,” she muttered as she turned the phone off. She could call her tomorrow, when Sarah would be at work and have less time for analyzing Gwen’s life.

  Thirsty, Gwen went to the kitchen to get a drink. While she was there, she added sunscreen to the running list Mrs. Gray kept in the pantry. Then, out of curiosity, she peeked into the living room. Will and Evie sat on opposite ends of the couch, both of them tapping away at their laptops.

  Well, everyone defines family time differently, I guess.

  She should probably boot up her laptop and work some, too. Instead she thought about the massive tub in her bathroom. Just what she needed.

  Gwen hit Play on the CD player and sank into the hot water with a sigh. She stayed there, letting the music hypnotize her while she tried to make sense of the wild turn her life had just taken.

  Don’t overanalyze. Don’t overthink. Just take it one day at a time. She’d made her choice, and while she didn’t regret it in the least—far from it—she didn’t know what, if anything, came next.

  She let her thoughts wander from the practical to the fantastical—and even through the possible repercussions—until the water turned too cold for comfort. She was rubbing lotion on her legs when she heard a soft tap at her door.

  Slipping into her fuzzy robe, she glanced at the clock. Ten-thirty. How long had she been in the tub?

  She opened the door, expecting to see Evie. Instead Will leaned against the frame. Her heartbeat accelerated as he grinned at her. A quick glance down the hall confirmed that Evie’s door was closed.

  “I need to talk to you about Evie.”

  Oh. So it was business he was here for, not pleasure. She tamped down the niggles of disappointment as she tugged on her belt, tightening it, and adjusted the collar of her robe. “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine. I just thought you should know Evie went to bed forty-five minutes ago. She has an early tennis lesson tomorrow.” Will’s hand toyed with the collar of her robe while he spoke. She wished she’d thought to bring a nicer one. This one had been with her since college. Yes, it was comfortable, but it fit like a comfy potato sack and the collar he toyed with was frayed at the edges. Not exactly the evening attire she wanted to be caught wearing by Will. The embroidered cats frolicking along the cuffs and collar didn’t help the look, either.

  Slightly confused and embarrassed, she prompted him. “And…?”

  “And this.” His hand closed around one of the frayed kitties on her collar and pulled her close until she pressed against his chest. Then his mouth closed on hers in a searing kiss.

  That kiss brought every erotic sensation from last night back to the surface in amazing, gasping detail, showing her how faulty her powers of recollection really were.

  In one swift movement, Will had them fully inside her room, and her back was against the door as Will loosened the sash and her robe fell open. She heard Will murmur his appreciation at finding nothing underneath, his words muffled against her skin as he sank to his knees, kissing a path down her torso as he went.

  Gwen’s knees buckled, her fingers first grasping his shoulders for support as Will tasted her, then scoring him with her nails as his tongue quickly sent her over the edge.

  Holding her steady as the ripples ran through her, Will stood and kissed her deeply. Behind her, she heard the lock click into place.

  “Now come to bed.”

  Gwen woke the next morning in a very good mood, but no one was around to share it. Evie had gone to her tennis lesson earlier, Will always left for work around seven-thirty and Mrs. Gray was walking out the door with a pile of wh
at looked like dry cleaning under her arm just as Gwen emerged from her room.

  “Good morning, Miss Gwen. I’ve left you some coffee and rolls in the kitchen. I’m off to get more groceries—Miss Evie seems to have cleaned out the cupboards over the weekend. Can I get you anything? Do you need anything while I’m out?”

  “No, but thanks.” She did need a couple of things, but Gwen couldn’t get used to the idea of Mrs. Gray doing it for her. Not that she should. Unless Letitia could be trained to shop, she’d be doing for herself again anyway in another ten days. This afternoon, while Evie was with her tutors, she’d run her own errands.

  The morning edition of the Tribune sat on the marble countertop next to the coffeepot, along with the Monday edition of Dallas Lifestyles. Normally she’d take the time to flip through both over coffee, but she’d slept so late she really needed to get some work accomplished first.

  Gwen poured herself a cup of the fragrant coffee blend Will preferred, grabbed a still-warm cinnamon roll and went back to her room to get dressed.

  The coffee cleared her brain of residual sleepiness, and by the time she pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, she was fully awake. She caught herself humming as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Her amazingly good mood this morning had to be a residual effect of last night.

  Ahh, last night. Her skin warmed as images flashed through her mind. She tried to focus on something else as she turned off the bathroom light—she had to or else she wouldn’t get any work done today.

  Her laptop sat on a small desk in the corner of the room, ready for her to log on and become Miss Behavior. A white envelope sat on top of it.

  Her name was scrawled across it in a bold, male handwriting she had to assume was Will’s. A small, fuzzy feeling settled in her stomach at the thought of Will leaving her a note.

  She slid her finger under the flap, but instead of a letter, she found a check. A check made payable to her for an obnoxious sum of money.

  The fuzzy feeling died and she sat with an unladylike thud.

  Rationally her brain knew the check was payment for Evie’s training. She had a contract with Will for her services, and here was payment in full. They had a business arrangement, after all.

  Emotionally, though, she felt she’d been kicked in the stomach. Leaving a check in her bedroom after the weekend—hell, after the night they’d just shared—made her feel cheap. Like Will was paying for a completely different type of service.

  Ugh. I guess I should be glad he didn’t leave it on the nightstand.

  The rational part of her brain tried again. He had to leave it somewhere. Why mail it to your P.O. Box when you’re living right here? He’s not paying you for sex. Remember, he said business and pleasure were two totally separate things. Get it together, go to the bank, and deposit it so you can pay bills this month.

  She still felt a little sick, even with the “let’s be rational” pep talk. She slid the check into her purse and sighed. This was yet another reason she shouldn’t have gotten involved with Will.

  Gwen refilled her coffee cup in the kitchen, then turned her cell phone back on. She really should return Sarah’s calls before Sarah sent the police over to check on her.

  She flipped open the phone and her jaw dropped in shock. Twenty-two missed calls? Twelve new voice mail messages? Eight text messages? Good God, did someone die? She started scrolling through the missed calls log, noting most of them had come in within the last couple of hours, and nearly dropped the phone when it rang in her hand.

  “Hey, Sar—”

  “Why haven’t you been answering the phone? Are you okay?” Sarah’s rapid-fire pace didn’t leave her time to answer any of the questions. “I tried to call yesterday, and then after I saw Lifestyles—”

  “Slow down. What are you talking about? I turned—I mean, my battery died yesterday, so I’m just now checking my phone.”

  “So you haven’t seen Dallas Lifestyles today?” Sarah’s tone made her heart drop.

  “No. Why?”

  “Page three, Gwennie. You made page three.”

  Oh, no. Gwen sprinted to the kitchen and grabbed the glossy magazine. Page three was Tish Cotter-Hulmes’s page. Every Monday and Thursday Tish dished the hottest gossip and reported all the rumors on page three. No one wanted to make page three. Ever. Nothing good ever came of being on page three.

  The headline stopped her heart. Is Miss Behavior Misbehaving With Dallas’s Most Eligible?

  “I’ll call you back.” She closed the phone on Sarah’s sputtering and scanned the page. Oh, dear God.

  Rumor has it that our own Miss Behavior may be vying for a new title. Sources tell me Gwen Sawyer moved in to Will Harrison’s penthouse just last week, and there’s no way she’s only housesitting. In fact, Gwen and Will were spotted (along with Will’s sister, the newly arrived and very elusive Evangeline) dining at Milano’s on the West End and sharing popcorn at a movie afterward. Gwen and Evangeline were also spied having a very girly day of shopping and coiffing Friday, so I’m thinking there’s definitely something going on. We all know how big a step shopping is. Personally, I’m intrigued. How did Gwen and Will cross paths and when? How have they managed to keep a low profile long enough for things to progress this far? Could Will be not-so-eligible any longer? Or is our Miss Behavior just flavor of the month? Anyone who can shed some light on the beginnings of this affaire de coeur needs to call me, quick!

  In related news, the reports from Neiman Marcus say Evangeline spent a small fortune in a few hours with a personal shopper while Gwen supervised. Could this mean we’re finally going to meet the Harrison heiress soon?

  Several more paragraphs followed, each one more speculative than the last, all of them managing to put the worst possible spin on the slim details. Damn Tish! Gwen’s fingers itched to wring Tish’s scrawny, BOTOX-enhanced neck. Suddenly, the rash of missed phone calls made sense.

  The anger receded as a chill settled over her. Not again.

  Flavor of the Month? Her reputation could handle mild speculation about a possible romance, but to paint her as just another fling in a long line of flings? Especially one who had moved in? Once again, she was on the short end of the stick—Will’s reputation was fine, while hers was tarnishing rapidly.

  Romance or fling, one fact didn’t change: the conservative elite of Dallas society wouldn’t smile kindly on Gwen living with a man she wasn’t married to. It didn’t matter that it was the twenty-first century. As a debutante trainer, her moral compass needed to gravitate toward the 1950s—at least as far as her clients were concerned. It was unfair, yes, but a fact she’d come to accept as just part of the territory.

  And Will would be livid. While his business—both personal and professional—ended up in the papers more often than not, she’d realized over the past week how much he tried to avoid the limelight whenever possible. In the past, Tish had limited herself to merely reporting Will’s social life, but this time, she had moved to speculation and innuendo.

  This was bad. At least Tish kept the speculation about Evie to a minimum. It was one tiny point in Tish’s favor. Still, though, this was bad.

  Tish better hope she didn’t need any favors from Gwen anytime soon. Old Money was a small and closed society, but then so was the world of those who made careers on the fringes of that society.

  Damn, damn, damn! Sarah had been right from the beginning. She should have thought this through more thoroughly before she signed on. Now she was hip-deep in trouble. She paced the kitchen, berating herself and feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.

  Calm down. It could be worse. Right now, it was just speculation and gossip. There was no proof she and Will were any kind of item—fling or otherwise. No one, not even Sarah, knew their business relationship had crossed a line. Well, Evie might suspect something…It was only her own conscience reading damnation into Tish’s column.

  The one-two punch of Will’s check and Tish’s column made her want to crawl back into bed and
start the day over again.

  But she couldn’t. She’d had five years to think about what she should have done when David hung her out to dry, and slinking away in disgrace had been the worst possible choice. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. It was damage control time. Gwen shuddered to think what waited in her voice and e-mail boxes. And the messages on her business line at home…

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Neiman Marcus and the West End were both public places. Anyone could have seen them and tattled to Tish. Plenty of people had to have seen her coming and going from Will’s building. Everything could be explained away easily—provided she could figure out how to explain without violating her nondisclosure agreement.

  She’d have to call Will. Something she didn’t look forward to.

  Will didn’t want to expose Evie to the possible embarrassment the implication having a personal etiquette tutor could bring. So how was she going to explain living here and taking Evie shopping? She needed to have some rationale or everyone would accept the most obvious explanation for their current living arrangement. And that was the absolute last thing she needed.

  She’d call Sarah back and see which way the wind was blowing. Then, she’d check her messages and judge how bad the damage was.

  She wasn’t going down without a fight this time.

  “We’ll need to arrange a dinner for after the meeting. Something regional would be nice.” Nancy, fully recovered from whatever kept her out of the office on Friday, was back and trying to get him to commit on several projects—including final arrangements on his meeting with Kiesuke Hiramine. And though he knew he should be far more involved in this conversation, he found himself oddly uninterested. Too many other things on his mind. Like the memory of leaving Gwen in a tangled heap of sheets early that morning. Like the knowing look Evie wore at breakfast. Exactly what Evie thought she knew was a question mark, though.