How to Resist Prince Charming

How to Resist Prince Charming by Linda Kage Whispers Publishing www.whispershome.com Copyright ©Linda Kage First publ...

Author: Kage Linda

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How to Resist Prince Charming by Linda Kage

Whispers Publishing www.whispershome.com

Copyright ©Linda Kage First published in 2010 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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CONTENTS Also by Linda Kage Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four 3


Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Acknowledgements About the Author ****

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**** How to Resist Prince Charming Linda Kage Warning This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. This material is meant for mature audiences!

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Also by Linda Kage The Stillburrow Crush The Trouble with Tomboys Delinquent Daddy Hot Commodity [Back to Table of Contents]

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How to Resist Prince Charming A Whispers Publishing Publication October 2010 Copyright (C)2010 Linda Kage Cover illustration copyright (C) 2010 Traci Markou ISBN Not Assigned All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher. All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention. Published by: Whispers Publishing, P.O. Box 1165, Ladson, SC 29456-1165. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Dedication Dear Kurt Karl, the absolute love of my life. Since you tried to trade me for a truck, I should probably dedicate this story to Denney. But being that we're married and bound together 'til death do us part, this one's for you. You're still the only one for me no matter what. I love you, Linda [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter One **** "You're not actually wearing that to the party, are you?" Lenna Davenport's grin faltered. A second earlier, she'd opened her door with an anxious smile. Since her mom was stuck home, nursing her thirteen-year-old sister back to health after a row with strep throat, Lenna had agreed to accompany her dad to his company's Christmas celebration. And she'd actually been energized about getting in a little father-daughter time. Until now. Anticipation dying a quick death, she frowned. "Why, not at all, Father. I'm just trying it on to see how it fits." He blew out a breath and swiped at his brow. "Thank God." "Dad!" She ignored the jolt of disappointment because he hadn't immediately oohed and ahhed. "Of course I'm wearing it tonight." Why would she be in it if she wasn't going to wear it? Hello. He made a face as if he'd just tasted a tart apple. "But, it's so...revealing." She hadn't lived at home for four years now, yet to listen to him; she would've thought she was still fifteen. "It goes all the way to the floor." She kicked out a toe to demonstrate. "Look. Even my ankles are covered." He didn't bother to glance down. "I'm not talking about the length. It's the overall effect that worries me." 9


Instinctively, she covered the bare expanse of skin below her throat with one hand, hoping he didn't pick on its strapless factor. There wasn't even a hint of cleavage. "What's wrong with the overall effect?" she asked. She bit her lip, wishing she didn't sound so much like a pathetic kid desperate to please Daddy. Why she'd always been so gung ho to gain his approval was beyond her. It was sad, really. She was twenty-two, and sometimes she still caught herself acting like she used to, aspiring to become his special girl. "You're too pretty," he said. Sucking in a surprised breath, Lenna beamed. Now that was more like it. She'd spent three hours picking out her dress so he would be proud to have her at his side tonight. It was nice to know her efforts had been worth it. She opened her mouth to thank him, but his next words cut her off. "I don't want my boss knowing how pretty you are." Huh? Lenna tilted her head and squinted her lashes. "You lost me. Why would Mr. Farris care what I—" "Good, God," he broke in, his eyes flaring wide. "You haven't heard." She faltered. "Heard what?" Alienation swamped her. Though she went home most Sundays to eat supper with her parents and siblings, she missed being a more integral part of the family. Obviously, she'd missed something major. Her dad wiped his mouth with his hand. When she saw his fingers tremble, she gasped. "What happened to Mr. Farris?" 10


She pictured the kind, fatherly man she'd met only a few times. He better be okay. "He retired. It was rather sudden. And mysterious." Lenna's jaw dropped. "What?" She hadn't realized the president of Farris Industries was anywhere near retirement age. Spencer Farris couldn't be much older than her father, and Tom Davenport was only fifty. "Who's the new president then?" She knew of three top executives at her father's workplace: Pat Foley, Ben Hendricks, and her dad. The three men were terribly close. One of them must've taken over Farris Industries. Since it obviously wasn't her dad, that could only mean one of his two best friends had just moved from co-worker to boss. Yikes. She braced herself for the answer, but her dad's response still shocked her. "Farris's son took over." Lenna blinked. Wait. What? If Spencer Farris wasn't much older than her father, then his son couldn't be much older than her. Wow. Her dad's new boss was more than likely young enough to be his...well, his son. She winced, knowing all too well how much her dad didn't respect her generation or trust them to make any kind of responsible, executive decisions. He had to be hating life right now. "Oh," she said, her bare shoulders dropping an inch. There went the fun evening she'd been eager to have. Bummer. Her dad didn't reply, but moodily grabbed her coat off the back of a chair. 11


"Let's just go already," he mumbled, not meeting her gaze as he held open the jacket."I refuse to give him any more leverage to use against me by being late to his precious Christmas party. I've already been warned insubordination is the leading cause of employee termination." Lenna's eyes widened. That didn't sound good. Nodding compliantly, she hurried forward so he could slip her sleeves snugly around her arms. Glancing over her shoulder, she sent him a worried look. "He can't really fire you for being late to a party, can he?" Pressing his lips thin, her father eyed her with distaste sparkling in his gaze. "Let's not test it, shall we?" The "overall effect" of her dress was forgotten as he ushered her out the door, dashing Lenna's grand expectations for a happy father-daughter evening all to pieces. Braxton Farris stood with a group of three older men, listening to them gab about their grandchildren. Braxton was a hell of a long way from the grandchildren stage. He hadn't even hit married with children. Jesus, he was still light years away from just plain married. Standing across from him, Pat Foley shook his finger Braxton's way. "Enough talk about that. We're scaring the kid here." The kid. If only Braxton had a penny for every time they called him the kid, or boy, or sonny in the past month. Behind his back, he knew he was called much worse. Boss Boy seemed to be the mildest but most popular handle. He refused to let it 12


fester, though. He knew what he'd been signing on for when he'd stepped behind his father's desk. Well, sort of. Brax treated the men to a tight smile. "Takes more than that to scare me." He lifted his glass, only to find it nearly empty. Damn. "Just you wait your turn," Charlie Fairbanks advised, beaming out an ornery grin as he jabbed Braxton in the ribs with a saggy, wrinkled elbow. "Then you'll know exactly what we mean." "Sure." He shot Charlie a look; not a frown, but something dry and annoyed enough to make the man's smile drop flat. Charlie's face turned red, and he coughed into his hand. Conversation crashed, exploded and floated off into an uncomfortable ball of silence. Both Charlie and Pat shifted and snuck a look toward the clock on the wall. Braxton did as well, only to bite back a groan. It wasn't even seven yet. He knew good and well these Christmas shindigs went on until the wee hours. "If you gentlemen will excuse me," he announced, backing away from the group. "I need to refresh my drink." His oh-so-respectful employees were in rare form tonight, trying to make him look as young and inexperienced as they thought he was. Typically, they observed a little more discretion in person. But in casual party mode, soused and safe in numbers, their tongues wagged a lot looser. And their rebel leader hadn't even arrived yet to stir up his usual trouble.

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Braxton sidled up to the bar and ordered a Crown and coke. "Make it a double," he said as he pictured Davenport, Mr. Rebel Leader himself. He sat on the rotating stool and surveyed the scene before him. Quite a few couples swayed to the lazy, slow tunes provided by the live band. But the only people around to dance with were employees or their escorts, and neither option made an ideal partner. So, that killed half the fun he could've had. He'd briefly considered scrounging up a date. But, who knew what kind of gossip would spread about him if he'd walked in the door with a blonde bombshell on his arm. He'd probably go from boss boy to wild playboy, which would only give his dad a coronary, and he wanted to avoid that. The old man had enough on his plate already. Braxton sipped his drink and idly scoped the crowd for about the hundredth time in the past five minutes. He hoped he didn't look as alone as he felt. Earlier, he'd wandered toward the crowd of people who were his age. But that ended up being a bomb. Anyone who was remotely close to Braxton in age was so fresh and new to the company they had no rank yet. They were merely assistants, mailroom workers, and interns. As soon as the high and mighty boss boy entered their circle, all conversation dropped flat. It sounded like they'd been having an entertaining conversation too. As he approached, he saw one guy cupping his chest with both hands, obviously talking about female breasts. A fan of female breasts, Braxton approached with interest. 14


But as soon as he'd called a greeting, all eyes went wide and every mouth snapped shut. Gazes dropped into their drinks while only a few managed to mumble hello. Other than that...nothing. Realizing he wasn't welcome, Braxton thanked everyone for coming and moved along to the higher-up employees, where he'd found himself joining a discussion about retirement funds, then listening to a heated debate over what was the best liquid in which to soak false teeth. Now, knowing more about false teeth than he ever cared to, he tossed back a good portion of his glass and blew out a long breath, hoping he could make it through the rest of the night. Not used to being the most unpopular guy in the crowd and knowing everyone was badmouthing him, Braxton sighed. He was contemplating escape when he spotted her. She was beautiful. Stunning. A complete vision. And she was young...like him. Who was she? Where had she come from? What was she doing here? Braxton didn't know and, honestly, he didn't care. All that mattered was finding out how to make her his. He hadn't arrived with a blonde bombshell on his arm, but he sure wouldn't mind leaving with one. But damn. She was gorgeous. With a slender, tall frame that was somewhat willowy despite the healthy curve to her hips, she held herself with a graceful, poised stance that screamed dancer. He was too far 15


away to tell whether she had a decent chest, but at this point, her cup size didn't even matter. Her dress was silver. Light reflected off it, making her sparkle as she stood in the doorway, peering curiously inside at the mingling crowd. She'd pinned up her light hair, making her neck appear long and incredibly elegant. A stray blonde tendril had come undone, or maybe she'd deliberately left it down. It teased the side of her throat and fluttered in a provocative manner, leading Braxton to believe she'd left it down for that intended purpose. To drive him mad. Her cheeks looked longer than they did round. From this distance, he couldn't see much, but he could tell her mouth was tipped in a smile. She seemed ecstatic, in fact. The woman simply glowed. While he'd been fantasizing about escape, she looked perfectly pleased to be present. At least he'd been dreaming of getting as far away as he could until two-point-five seconds ago. But now that she was here—yes, she, whoever she was, standing there as if waiting for someone to meet her. Feeling the urge to oblige, Braxton set his glass down and slipped off his bar stool. Welcoming committee, here he came. He knew it was wrong to hit on someone here of all places, since she was obviously the date to one of his employees. But he couldn't stop himself. He just had to get closer. He hadn't even made it all the way off his stool, though, when the person she'd been waiting for entered behind her and set a hand on her waist to guide her into the room. 16


A predatory growl of possessiveness filled his throat. While he remained civil enough to stop the sound from escaping his lips, he lifted his face and eyed his competition, his gaze already narrowed. The glare dropped abruptly, as did Braxton, plopping back onto his barstool with a thud. His jaw came loose from its hinges and slammed to the floor. "No...way," he said. This couldn't be right. It certainly couldn't be real. Any moment, Braxton expected to blink awake and discover he'd been stuck in a nightmare, because the man accompanying his mystery lady was none other than Thomas Davenport. It was the irony of all ironies for Tom to be the man to walk in with the only interesting thing Braxton had seen all evening. There was no way in hell she was Tom's wife. Okay, sure, he'd never met Tom's wife, but no, this girl was...just that. A girl. She was a child compared to Tom and much too young for him, unless he'd traded for a newer model since proclaiming he'd been married longer than Braxton had been alive. But that had been last week, so his theory didn't carry much weight. Reassured, Braxton stared at Davenport and his escort. Escort. Oh, dear Lord, could she be an escort? A paid, professional escort? Braxton's eyes widened at the very prospect. Maybe she was Tom's plaything. But then, why would Tom bring his plaything and not his wife to the company party? 17


Watching Tom and the girl wander toward Tom's friends, Braxton noticed all the guys—Ben, Pat, and Charlie—knew her. They exclaimed in surprise. Ben even opened his arms to give her a hug. The girl grinned and hurried forward to throw her arms around crabby old Ben Hendricks, who beamed at her as if she were his very own daughter. Daughter. Oh no. No, no, no. Life couldn't be that cruel. Ben's wife pulled her into a motherly embrace next, which threw out the whole paid escort theory. There was no way on God's green earth Phyllis Hendricks would hug some call girl or any man's plaything. So, yep, she had to be Tom's daughter. Braxton swallowed and wiped the sudden perspiration off his brow. Damn, who had turned up the temperature in this place? Fisting his hand, he set it against his mouth and blew out a breath. He couldn't take his eyes off Tom Davenport's daughter. Tom's. Daughter. Okay, he could deal with this. It wasn't like he even knew her. She was probably a brat, or uptight and snooty. She was Tom's offspring, after all. Maybe she talked with a spitting lisp. Or maybe— hopefully—she had a lazy eye and bad body odor. Beauty was only skin deep, right? She was probably hideous on the inside. Braxton gritted his teeth. But, God, she 18


had some amazing skin, skin he'd like to investigate up close, and personal. In his head, she was already his, naked on his bed and moaning out her tenth orgasm. Realizing she was unavailable frustrated him. Damn. He couldn't even flirt with her. Braxton gnawed on his molars as he stared holes through Davenport's daughter. Finally, he said, "Screw it," before he drained his glass and slipped off his stool. What harm could come from a simple introduction? He had to know what he was missing. He wanted to sprint right over and meet her but held himself back. Casually, he slipped into mingling mode, smiling at a couple nearing the bar and thanking them for coming. He knew he should stop staring, but telling himself that and getting his eyes to comply were two different trials altogether. She looked just as delicious from the back as she had from the front. The silver material of her dress cupped an ass that had his mouth watering and his hands itching to palm each glittery cheek. Finally, she turned enough to give him a view of her side profile. Okay, so her tits weren't the biggest he'd ever seen, but they were definitely more than a mouthful, which was all he needed. Braxton swallowed. She listened to the conversation around her with a slight frown. He didn't realize he was the main topic until Tom said, "Where is the kid, anyway? Tasha take him to the bathroom to change his diaper?" 19


"Dad," the stunning woman at his side admonished, tapping him in the arm with her elbow. "Behave." Braxton grinned, instantly charmed. She didn't even know him, yet here she was, coming to his defense. He liked that. He liked it a lot. "Actually, Tom," he murmured from directly behind her. "I've graduated to the big boy potty these days. Guess I should've sent you the memo." The entire circle of people whirled and gawked with similar expressions of horror. But he studied only one face. Well, hell, he thought. She didn't have a lazy eye. Instead, it was like staring into a glimmering sea of bright, curious green. He couldn't help it. He smiled. "Hi," he said, oddly winded. "I think you're the only person here I haven't met yet." The only person here he'd like to strip naked. He extended his hand. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Two **** Lenna couldn't believe this place. The ballroom of Farris Industries was breathtaking. Half a dozen chandeliers hung from the ceiling like jewelry and illuminated the room with a glistening glow. The carpet was deep velvet red and Lenna's heels sank into its cushiony softness with every step she took, making her fear she was going to trip and fall flat on her face any moment. The live band was classy. Fitted in matching red suit jackets, the players thrilled the crowd with a country western favorite. And the dance floor... wow, the dance floor, which was tiled with an assortment of marble squares, was packed. There was a bar, a covered buffet, and even waiters strolling around with silver trays full of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. Decked out to the nines, everyone around her chatted casually as if this were their daily practice. But seeing her father's co-workers, Ben and Pat and Charles—who were all like second fathers to her—wearing distinguished tuxedos was so strange, she kept blinking to make sure she was awake. She felt like a princess who'd just stepped into happily ever after. Realizing she probably looked like a dweeb with such a goofy smile plastered to her face, she lifted her eyes and decided to pay attention to the discussion around her. 21


"Tasha says he doesn't drink coffee but comes in with a twenty-ounce bottle of that highly-caffeinated pop every morning," Ben Hendricks said, making everyone around him snicker. Lenna frowned, not sure why preferring soda to coffee was so gasp-worthy. She edged closer to her dad. "Who're we talking about?" "Our boss," he said from the side of his mouth. She lifted her eyebrows, surprised the group would so openly bash the very man sponsoring tonight's event. "Who's Tasha?" Her dad sent her an impatient look. "His secretary." "I heard he takes the crust off his bread when he eats a sandwich," someone else said. More snorts followed. "And he wore sneakers to work last Friday." Turning back to the group, Lenna's dad spoke up. "Where is the kid, anyway? Tasha take him to the bathroom to change his diaper?" "Dad!" Lenna gasped, appalled. "Behave." She shot her elbow into his arm to remind him he didn't want to be insubordinate. But before her dad could respond, a voice spoke from behind her. "Actually, Tom. I've graduated to the big boy potty these days. Guess I should've sent you the memo." For a split second, Lenna froze. By the mortified expressions on everyone else's faces, she had to guess the new arrival to their group was the very host they were belittling. 22


She turned slowly and almost let out a yelp of shock to find his gaze riveted on her, of all people. "Hi," he said, the corner of his mouth hitching up. "I think you're the only person here I haven't met yet." Tall and slender with the blackest hair she'd ever seen, he fit his tux to perfection. It hugged his wide shoulders and revealed the slim build of his hips. He reminded her of a younger, taller Pierce Brosnan. His eyes were even as blue as the actor's. She could only stare. This was her father's rookie boss? Dear Lord. She'd known the new Mr. Farris was young, but no one had mentioned he was a complete hunk. He cordially held out a hand. She gaped at his extended palm. Holy shit. He wanted her to touch him? Staring at his long, slender fingers and short nails, her eyes widened. Oh, no. No, she didn't think she could touch him without melting into a drooling puddle. She couldn't tell if her dad sensed she was drowning in young Pierce's blue gaze or not, but he latched a hand around her shoulder as if to pull her back to reality. She had to admit, she was grateful for the move, otherwise she might've lost it and thrown herself at the new president, peeling off articles of clothing as she went. Her dad let go almost as soon as he grabbed her though. "Sweetheart," he said, sounding reluctant to make introductions. "This is Braxton Farris, the, uh, the new president of Farris Industries. Farris, my daughter, Lenna." "It's nice to meet you, Lenna," her father's hot boss said. 23


She had to repress a shudder of delight as the sound of her own name settled over her, never having realized Lenna could sound so pretty until he said it. She could actually picture him repeating it in exactly that same manner as he laid her down on a bed of silky sheets and had her glide the backs of her hands over smooth satin covers while he covered her with his bare, heated chest. Remembering he still held out his palm for a shake, she quickly took his fingers. His skin was warm and so inviting she didn't want to let go. She lifted her eyes to his, and a bolt of pure lust slammed into her; she immediately pulled away. As she did, the pad of his thumb grazed the knuckle of her thumb. By the zing it shot through her, he might as well have slid his hand up the hem her dress and inside the crotch of her panties. "Oh," she gasped quietly, not meaning to let the exclamation escape. The humiliating part was that Braxton Farris heard her little slip. His eyes sprang to hers, where they glittered with awareness. Guiltily, Lenna's gaze darted to her dad. But he hadn't seemed to notice any part of the embarrassing encounter. "My youngest is sick tonight," he explained. "Since my wife decided to stay home with her, I dragged Lenna here with me." Braxton Farris smiled at Lenna again and said, "Well, at least she's stopped kicking and screaming." Lenna grinned at his joke, but her father didn't. "Pardon?" Tom said, frowning slightly. 24


Mr. Farris cleared his throat, his smile faltering. "Kicking and screaming," he repeated. "You said you'd dragged her here." When Tom continued to give him a blank look, he added, "You know the saying, dragged, kicking and screaming." "Oh," Tom grumbled. Lenna wanted to pinch her dad. Then she wanted to sink into the floor and die of humiliation. Risking a glance at Braxton Farris, she noticed he looked just as uncomfortable. An uneasy silence fell among the three of them. She bit her lip, thinking she should somehow smooth ruffled feelings. Mr. Farris rubbed the back of his neck and treated both Lenna and her dad to a tense smile. "Anyway," he murmured. "I hope you both enjoy the rest of your evening." Then he backed a step away, turned on his heel, and escaped. Lenna immediately spun to her father. "Dad!" "What?" He glanced at her with a don't-start-with-me scowl. Her mouth dropped open. "Are you always that rude to your boss?" No wonder the new Mr. Farris had threatened him with insubordinate termination. Her dad's answer was a small, unconcerned shrug. Lenna drew in a sharp breath, shocked to finally discover her father had an enemy. She'd never seen him so hostile before. He must truly and honestly despise having Braxton Farris for a superior. She'd seemed nice. Hell. She'd seemed sweet. 25


Braxton wanted to bash his head against the top of the bar where he sat. Staring at the lovely stranger from across the room hadn't been enough for him, had it? No, he'd just had to go over there and meet her. Yep, and now, every night when he went to sleep, he was going to see the little dimple on the corner of her mouth that had appeared when she'd smiled at him. At him! God, she'd even blushed when she noticed him ogling her. Jesus, he'd gaped at her with her dad standing between them. If that wasn't asking for Tom to strangle him, he didn't know what was. The man already thought Braxton was the anti-Christ. Now that he'd had a close-up of her face, though, heard the sound of her voice, and seen her sweet, polite smile, Braxton knew he was a goner. He never should've gotten close enough to experience the rays of her smile. Now, he felt sunburned in a good and hot, achy kind of way. He caught sight of her dancing with her dad a few times, and she took a swirl or two around the floor with a few of his cronies. But she never danced with anyone closer to her in age. Braxton decided not to push his luck in that department. So, he stayed away. He slouched on his stool, swirling white wine around the inside of his glass, waiting for an opportune moment to leave, when he heard her voice. His body tensed as he listened to her order the same brand of wine he was currently chugging.

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Braxton lifted his head and turned. She didn't notice him next to her. He knew he should let it go. But he couldn't seem to obey his brain. "Sure you're old enough to drink that?" he asked, causing her to whirl his way. She blinked twice. After graciously accepting wine the bartender passed her, she nodded toward his drink. "Are you?" Her eyes teased as she sipped. Braxton beamed. She was going to talk to him. Yes! He was in. Sort of. "Well, your father doesn't think so, but yeah, I'm twentysix. Want to see some ID?" Lenna paused at the barb about Tom and shook her head. "No, I believe you." Braxton gritted his teeth and commanded himself not to mention her dad again. Taboo subject. Do not enter. Panicking because he'd messed up and she was probably going to leave, he blurted out, "Are you having a good time?" She nodded. Her eyes were bright and somewhat glassy. He figured this wasn't her first glass of wine tonight. "I feel like Cinderella," she admitted, and then laughed at herself as if embarrassed for divulging such a claim. Braxton almost uttered something else corny in response; something like it was too bad Cinderella couldn't hold a candle to her beauty. But he managed to restrain himself. Thank God. He glanced over his shoulder toward the dance floor as he said, "Well, princess, have you picked out your prince yet?" 27


Lenna turned and studied the room. Playing along, she tapped her chin and murmured, "Hmm. I guess I'm still debating between Pat Foley and Charles Fairbanks." Both men had to be over sixty. Pat was bald, and Charlie was about forty pounds overweight. Braxton laughed and spun his stool around to watch the two men she'd named. "Yeah, I understand your indecision. Though I'm not sure Mrs. Fairbanks would appreciate it if you swept Charles off to happily ever after." Lenna glanced at Braxton and eyed him thoughtfully. "You prove a good point," she agreed, and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. He had no idea why, but the move struck him as one of the most erotic things he'd ever seen. If only he could tug at her supple lip with his own teeth. Jerking his gaze from her mouth, Braxton jiggled his foot, hoping that would keep the blood circulating and not pooling in his lap. He stopped breathing when she touched the stray hair tickling her neck and tucked it behind her ear as she turned to study the balding widower. "I guess that leaves Pat by default," she announced. "Uh, not that I'm critiquing your decision," Braxton said, unable to help himself. "That's completely up to you, of course." "Of course," Lenna agreed, smiling like maybe she was enjoying their talk as much as he was. Braxton nodded, ever serious. "But are you sure you've considered all the possibilities?" 28


Lenna's eyes scanned the room again. She turned back to him, frowning slightly. "Why? Who'd you have in mind?" Braxton knew he shouldn't shift the mood, but his mouth didn't listen to his brain as he softly answered, "Now that question's just loaded with trouble." Lenna's eyes flashed wide, probably realizing he'd taken her comment differently than she'd meant. She'd no doubt been planning on him to point out some other old codger as a possible candidate, someone like Ben Hendricks, perhaps. And here, he had to go and admit he'd like to apply for the position of her prince. Her face flamed bright red. "I'm sorry," she spilled out, looking worried and a little scared. "I didn't mean—" "No, it's okay," Braxton assured her, already shaking his head. "I knew what you meant. I shouldn't have—" He broke off and glanced away, feeling like a bumbling moron. Jesus, what kind of tactless idiot attended the company Christmas party, only to hit on an employee's kid and strike out majorly? Way to pull off the professional appearance he'd been determined to project tonight. He'd rather spook Lenna Davenport off by picking his nose and wiping the booger on her dress. "Just ignore me," he mumbled. When he risked a mortified glance her way, he found her still blushing. She guzzled from her drink as if her throat had gone bone dry. Then she waved a hand in front of her watering eyes and clutched her half-full glass until the wine inside splashed against the sides. 29


When she looked at him, her lips parted and her chest rose—not once, not twice, but three times in a succession of jerky movements, telling him she was sucking in too much air. Then her bare shoulders fell as she exhaled. Braxton's humiliation died an instant death as he watched. Mother of God. He hadn't turned her off. He'd amped her up. She was just as excited by him as he was by her. Forget professionalism. He was totally going to hit on his employee's kid. "I've heard Tom mention he had three children," he said, starting fresh as if they hadn't been heading toward forbidden territory. "Where do you rank in there?" Lenna finally lowered her glass, looking beyond grateful they'd returned to safe ground. "I'm the oldest." He grinned. "I'm also the oldest of three," he said, causing her to give him a startled look. "Do you have younger brothers or sisters?" "One of each." Interest jolted through his stomach. "Me too." Lenna Davenport looked equally startled they shared a common trait. A moment of awkward silence followed; Braxton said the first thought that entered his head. "They can be a pain sometimes, though, can't they?" Lenna blinked. "What can?" "Younger siblings. I remember when I first moved out, both of mine seemed to think my place was their second home." 30


"Oh, my God." Lenna brightened as she squeezed his arm. "I know exactly what you mean. My brother, Aaron—he's in high school—he keeps begging to have his friends over for a party in my apartment." Braxton laughed. "What a coincidence. My brother, Tyler, actually did that three years ago, without asking." Her jaw dropped as she gasped. "You're kidding." He shook his head. "Nope. I came home from work late one night to find two dozen complete strangers—all underage college kids, mind you—just milling around my house like they owned the place." Eyes wide as she listened, Lenna seemed entranced by his every word. "What'd you do?" Shrugging, Braxton's eyes glittered with mirth as he said, "I made myself a margarita and joined the fun." When Lenna blinked, he realized she thought he was serious. He laughed. "I kicked them out," he said, relenting. "Told them the cops were on their way." He shook his head at the memory. "I swear, I've never seen anyone move so fast. And they didn't even leave any good alcohol behind." Lenna rolled her eyes, but she continued to grin at him as she nudged his sleeve with a playful shove. "And your brother?" she asked. "What'd you do to him?" Okay, that was two shoulder-touches in less than five minutes. If she went for a third, he'd be down for the count. "Well, I debated whether or not I should beat him to a pulp," he managed to say, though he couldn't take his eyes off her hand, hoping those delicious little fingers would land on his knee—or God, his thigh—next. "But then I thought the 31


sweeter revenge would just be to call Mom and Dad. So, I did that instead." When the dimple at the corner of her mouth appeared, Braxton thought he was lost. Damn, he liked Lenna Davenport. She was exhilarating. Completely alive. Talking to her was more euphoric than biking a steep mountain and standing at the top to look down at what he'd accomplished. He could only imagine what sex with her would be like. And imagine he did. Her hair would have to come down first, so he could watch it tumble over her shoulders. Then the dress. He'd unzip it slowly to build the tension, maybe even kiss each inch of skin he revealed. Once the silver material pooled around her feet, he'd— Lenna seemed to realize his stare had changed from friendly to interested. She blushed and glanced away, taking another restless drink. Braxton expected her to excuse herself and search out her father, but he was delightfully surprised when she turned back to him. "So, that was three years ago?" He nodded. "You worked somewhere else before you came to Farris Industries then?" Braxton's brows scrunched together. "Well... yeah." He'd only been at Farris three weeks. What exactly did she think he'd been doing in the past four years since he'd graduated from college? Her blush deepened as if she'd just realized her faux pas. "I'm sorry," she quickly apologized, lifting her hands as if to wave away her mistake. "It's just that my dad... I mean... It's nothing. I'm really sorry." 32


Lord, Tom must've been complaining about his dear boss at home too, to his entire family. Clearing his own throat, Braxton said, "Well, I'm sure the way your dad tells it, my father yanked me straight from the cradle and plopped me in the president's seat." Lenna lowered her eyes and watched her fingers fidget. He winced. Shit. He shouldn't have said that. Her father was not up for discussion. Why did he keep bringing Tom up? There was no way she'd touch him a third time now. "Actually," he said, once again trying a new track in the vain hope of keeping the conversation afloat, "I'm kind of an IT computer geek." Oh, yeah, that announcement really made him out to be the ultimate alpha male. God. "The only reason I got a BBA was so I could major in Computer Science for a systems programming degree." There, that sounded marginally better. Not. She lifted her eyes. When he saw the interested expression on her face, a knot loosened in his chest. "So, what did you do before you, ah, came to Farris?" she asked. "Well..." he drew out, taking in a long breath before he started. "It took me over a year after I graduated to find the job I wanted." "Really?" Her eyes lit with excitement. Then her shoulders relaxed and she set a hand over her heart. "A whole year? That makes me feel so much better." Braxton paused and gave her an odd smile. "Just a guess here, but are you having trouble finding a job?" "It's been seven months!" she growled. 33


Unable to stop himself, Braxton grinned. "What was your major?" "Communications. With an emphasis in Public Relations." "Ah," he murmured. "That would explain your eloquent speech." Lenna wrinkled her nose. He wanted to close his eyes and slap a hand to his forehead for such a dumb observation. "Umm. Thanks," she finally answered. "So," he said, more than ready to move past his mortifying comment. "What exactly do you want to do with your communications degree?" "That's the problem." She leaned closer to confess, teasing him out of his mind with the light scent of vanilla. Man, oh man, did she smell good. "I have no idea what I really want to do." He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to lean toward her and press his mouth to that stray hair curling down her neck. It was still driving him nuts. Taking his eyes off the lock, he glanced out at the crowd of dancers, desperately trying to hold himself together. "Well, there's a number of things you can do with a communications degree," he heard himself say. "Maybe you could be the spokesperson for a corporation." Yeah, he could see her making a good public relations person. She was attractive, polite, well-spoken... But when she wrinkled her nose at the idea, he laughed. "Or maybe not." "Actually, I've thought about that. But..." She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't have any idea what I do want. I just know 34


what I don't want." She glanced at him, uncertain. "Does that make any sense?" Damn, he wanted to kiss her. But he stuck to the conversation at hand like a good boy. "It makes perfect sense." She looked so confused and lost, he found himself itching to cover her hand and give it a supportive squeeze. "Just don't leap into some career that isn't what you want merely because it's taking you too long to decide, okay?" Jesus, where was this counsel coming from? Her problems were none of his business. But, for some reason, he couldn't stomach the thought of Lenna Davenport miserable with the life she chose. "Good things come to those who wait," he said, realizing he'd just quoted his father. Then he shrugged and grinned at her. "Or so I've heard." Lenna's return smile seemed to glow so brightly it blinded him. "Thank you," she said. He forgot to breathe. The rest of the room faded away. His chest expanded and actually burned. Why did she have to be Tom's daughter? "Is that what happened to you?" Her lips were moving, but he couldn't seem to hear a thing she said. Forcing himself back to reality, he said, "Hmm?" He told himself to snap out of it. Quit thinking what he was thinking. She was forbidden. But his mind just kept heading south.

35


"Is that what happened to you?" she repeated and then clarified, "With your first job. Did you leap into it, even though it wasn't what you really wanted?" His first job. What had been his first job? He couldn't seem to get past how pretty her green eyes were. God, he was a sucker for green eyes. Oh, right. First job. ProTech. "No," he said. "Oh, no way. I loved my first job. I don't know if you've heard of it. ProTech. Actually, that's short for Protection Technologies. My best friend started it and asked me to help him out." Lenna sent him a confused frown. Wanting to explain, he started, "ProTech is a security company, basically, for the Internet. We create virus protections and firewalls. Or different websites will contract us to work out any bugs they may have." He paused when he noticed Lenna giving him a funny, perplexed look. "What?" "You really liked it there," she murmured. His smile was genuine. "Yeah. I did." ProTech had been his life. Lenna tipped her head to the side and studied him a moment. "Then why'd you leave?" Braxton froze, wishing he had a sledgehammer handy to jar himself over the head. He'd neatly set himself up for that question, hadn't he? Damn. "I... ah..." He was saved from having to answer when, for the first time since he'd become president of Farris Industries, he actually welcomed the sight of Davenport approaching. "Lenna!" Tom called, hurrying toward the bar. 36


She jumped and whirled toward her father. "Daddy!" she said in high voice. "Sweetheart, I've been looking everywhere for you." Tom glanced accusingly at Braxton. "I was just, uh, ordering a drink," Lenna told him and lifted her wine to prove it. Then she quickly chugged. She swallowed twice before coming up for air, telling Braxton everything he wanted to know. Thinking she wouldn't be so nervous if he hadn't affected her, Braxton hid a smile. Oh, yeah, he liked the idea of affecting Lenna Davenport. Tom eyed her drink. "How many of those have you had?" Lenna scowled and set the glass on the bar beside Braxton's. "Dad," she scolded. "I thought you said you weren't going to act all fatherly tonight. You said I could enjoy this party to my heart's content." Tom glowered. "I'll worry about my daughter if I want to." "Well, stop it and just come dance with me." She grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the floor. Her eyes strayed to Braxton as she led Tom away. In their depths, he saw guilt, shame, and excitement. As he watched her go, he took a moment to admire her while her father twirled her around. Then he turned away and drained his own glass. He stayed at the bar for a while, hoping she'd return to retrieve her drink. But she never did. Braxton finally surrendered to the inevitable—it wasn't meant to be—and went home, disappointed. 37


Yep, he'd done it now. Depression settled over him as he let himself into his quiet brownstone apartment. After one innocent—ninety percent innocent, anyway—conversation, he'd become infatuated with Tom Davenport's daughter. Wasn't that just lovely? [Back to Table of Contents]

38


Chapter Three **** Though Lenna told him she didn't need an escort, her dad walked her to her door after driving her home from the party. It was nearly one in the morning; the neighborhood outside her building was dead. When headlights actually turned onto her street as they were crossing the road, her dad stepped protectively closer and took her elbow. She rolled her eyes. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she could jaywalk on her own. But he let go of his grip as soon as they hit the curb and stepped forward to open the main entrance of her building for her. The move was sweet enough to make her bite back the nasty comment. They ascended two flights to her apartment in comfortable silence. He waited quietly behind her as she unlocked her door. After pushing it open and reaching around a corner to flip on a light, she turned back. She gave him a smile and murmured, "Thanks," for his consideration even though she hadn't needed a guardian. When he merely stood there and studied her thoughtfully, she squirmed. Okay, way weird. Why was he staring like that? Her dad wasn't the kissy, smoochy type. But Lenna lifted onto her toes anyway and pressed a peck to his cheek, tickling her lips on his bristly jaw. "I had fun tonight. Thanks 39


for inviting me," she said and started to pull away. But he grasped her elbow. Hard. Their gazes met and she caught her breath at the rigid expression on his face. His lips pressed thin and his eyes narrowed to slits. "What were you and Farris talking about at the bar for so long?" Lenna blinked at the unexpected question. "What?" "What were you and—" "We were picking out names for our firstborn," she said, stiffening her back. "Why?" "Don't play smart ass," he growled. "Not this time. I'm serious, Lenna. What'd you two discuss?" She gave an adamant shake to her head and eyed him warily, wondering where the heck this inquisition was coming from. Had he looked inside her and seen how much his boss had affected her? No. Impossible. She'd been careful to hide her attraction. But the way her dad frowned, he knew every dirty, delicious thought she'd had about Braxton Farris. Her mouth fell open. "We didn't talk about anything important. Why? Did you think he was feeding me company secrets?" Her dad's face only tightened more. "You know he only talked to you to irritate me, don't you?" Her lips parted. "Of course," she murmured before acidly adding, "I'm mean, there's no possible way he could've actually been interested in me as a person. It must've been all about you, Dad." She ripped her arm out of his hold. 40


"Lenna," he started, frowning. "No," she cut in, holding up a hand. "I'm not sure what you're trying to say, but I don't like it. I'm probably never going to see your boss again, so whatever's bothering you is moot. All right?" He sighed in surrender. Instead of apologizing, though, he gripped on her arm again and pulled her into a half hug. Kissing her forehead, he murmured, "Thanks for coming with me tonight." Then he turned away and started off. Lenna stared after him, not sure what to think. Two weeks later, she was still uncertain what he'd been trying to tell her that night. His grip had been so strong and insistent she could still feel his fingers biting into the skin above her elbow. She shifted the hefty gym bag on her shoulder and rubbed the spot. Approaching Farris Industries for her monthly basketball workout with him, she had to admit basketball was the last thing on her mind. If he'd been trying to say Braxton Farris was the devil, she disagreed. Braxton had been sweet, and kind, and perfectly harmless. It was crazy. She knew she shouldn't be thinking about her father's young boss or remember so clearly the small conversation they'd had at the Christmas party. But his face kept popping into her head at the oddest times. She'd enjoyed talking with him. She'd enjoyed him, period. But the guy was totally forbidden. She couldn't remember a time when her dad had so openly disliked someone before. 41


She might as well thrust a knife into Tom Davenport's back if she ever considered getting involved with the likes of his employer. In fact, in loyalty to her dad, she needed to evade Braxton Farris altogether so he couldn't turn his baby blues her way and gaze at her as if she was something important. Not that he'd done such a thing the night they'd met. She'd only imagined his captivated attention. Too much alcohol in the bloodstream had caused her to think they'd shared a chemistry they hadn't. Braxton Farris came from a class scads above her own. He'd never honestly be interested in her. But she wondered to herself, anyway. How would she go about resisting a man like him if he were ever to pursue her? He was, like, perfect. A veritable Prince Charming. Lenna remembered how he'd looked in his tux and shivered. Prince Charming indeed. God, was it even feasible to resist Prince Charming? Why would a girl even want to—well, unless he was forbidden, as Braxton Farris was in this case? But how would she ever begin to rebuff him? Lost in thought, she opened the door. The strap of her bag dug into her shoulder again. She glanced down to reposition it, not paying a lick of attention to where she walked. But as she entered the building, she ran smack into a solid object— er, to be honest, it was her bag ramming the object, and the object was actually human because it grunted out a sound of pain when she plowed into it. Her head flew up.

42


There stood Braxton Farris. Well, okay, he wasn't standing exactly. He was more doubled over in pain and grabbing his groin. Covering her mouth with both hands, Lenna gasped. "Oh, my God!" Sweet Lord, she'd just racked Prince Charming. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He was too busy clutching the offended area to glance her way. Lenna had a sudden frantic thought; if she ran now, she could escape, and he'd never know it'd been her who'd caught him right in the— She paused when he blew out a breath and straightened. That's when she realized he wasn't clutching the family jewels but rather a spot about four inches to the left. Oh, thank God. She'd only nicked him in the thigh. "It's okay," he assured before adding, "Lenna." Her eyes widened. She jerked her face up. Great. He was looking at her and—double great—he'd caught her staring at his junk. Her face turned twenty-three shades of red; she bit her lip and shrank a step back. "I am so sorry, Mr. Farris. I didn't—" He lifted his hand. "It's Braxton," he corrected. "And I'm fine. Really." Horrified, Lenna wanted to keep groveling. But he'd already forgiven her. It would be tacky to apologize again. So, she opened her mouth to say something. But she had no idea what she wanted to divulge. It seemed prudent to make a comment, except... Finding it suddenly hard to breathe, her gaze latched onto his, and she found herself looking at an interested man. 43


Worse yet, he was interested in her. The guy truly and honestly looked mesmerized. The mere way he stared caused a hundred butterflies to set up house in her stomach. It made her blush. She tucked a stray piece of her honey blonde hair escaping her ponytail behind her ear. Guess she hadn't totally imagined his attraction. The realization was flattering. She started to think maybe— But wait. Her father couldn't stand this man. And from listening to Braxton at the party, she knew he returned the sentiment wholeheartedly. Lenna didn't think she could ever date anyone who couldn't even try to get along with her dad. So, she decided right then and there. The first step to resisting Prince Charming was to avoid eye contact at all cost. Demurely lowering her gaze, she quietly said, "Excuse me," and started around him to enter the building. But Braxton Farris turned as she passed, openly following her with his eyes. He scanned her body and took in the outfit she wore. It was obvious she was set for the gym. She had her hair pulled up, her tight sport shirt sponsored a famous shoe brand, and her pants were stretchy cotton, perfect for a nice, hard game of basketball. Braxton cocked his head quizzically to the side as he studied her. "I don't recall ever seeing a gym in here before." Since he owned the entire building of the Farris Industries Executive Offices, he would know. The corner of Lenna's mouth hitched at his joke. She glanced down at her gym bag. "I'm just here to pick up my dad. We play a game of 44


basketball at lunch every second Tuesday of the month." She patted the bag and added, "This is his change of clothes." "Really?" Braxton rubbed his thigh. "What does he wear to the gym? Chain mail?" Her eyes widened. "Oh!" She unzipped her bag. "I think there might be a basketball in here." Looking inside, she dug around. God, she must've hit him hard. "Hmm. I guess it's not in here." Then she exclaimed, "Aha!" and yanked out a pair of men's worn running shoes. "Ah," Braxton replied and motioned toward them. "Yep. It must've been the shoes." Lenna grinned; her heart slammed against her ribcage when he returned the smile. Step Two, she decided: Never, ever, smile at Prince Charming. It really was too bad he was her father's boss. Not only was he prime eye-candy, but some of his mannerisms were boyishly adorable. She just wanted to pull him into a big hug and cuddle. And laugh. She had a strange sense they'd laugh a lot together. She ducked from his love-struck-as-a-teen stare as she stepped into the building. Lenna shattered the first step of her whole "resist and evade" theory by meeting his gaze. He didn't look like he could take his attention off her and she blushed all over again. The door began to fall closed between them; Lenna continued to break her rule as she held his stare. But at the last moment before they were separated, she saw his eyes widen. 45


"Wait!" he called and jumped toward the closing portal. He stuck his hand out to stop it from shutting and caught his fingers in the latch. As he cursed, Lenna yanked the door open. "Are you okay?" Clutching his smashed fingers with his good hand, he nodded. "I forgot. Tom moved his office yesterday. I didn't know if you were aware." Lenna frowned and pulled back. "He did?" Braxton nodded again and took a moment to catch his breath. "He's on the third floor, ah..." He paused and lifted his head as if to think. "In the southeast corner." Lenna's eyebrows shot up. "Ooh, a corner office, huh?" Braxton gave her a slight smile. "Do you want me to follow you up and show you where it is?" Yikes! Step three. Never agree to anything Prince Charming suggests. She shook her head. "I'm sure I'll find it. But thanks for the heads up." Taking her answer as the dismissal it was, Braxton nodded and stepped back outside. "Good luck on your game," he called just as the glass doors closed between them. Lenna lifted her hand to her racing heart. Whew. That had been a close one. What exactly it'd been close to, she had no idea. But she felt like she'd just narrowly escaped something huge. As she hurried toward her father's office, Lenna realized she really needed to work on her resisting skills. 46


Braxton thought about Davenport's daughter throughout lunch. He didn't get it. Out of all the fathers in the entire world, how was it possible she'd ended up with Tom as hers? Braxton figured the biggest barrier to surmount in his becoming a successful president over the company was Tom Davenport. He needed to get Davenport in his corner because too many people respected and looked to Tom for leadership. Braxton knew if he could win Tom over, then everyone else would slip neatly into place behind him. But chasing the man's daughter definitely would not win him any brownie points. That didn't stop him from thinking about her, though. And boy did he think. She'd looked really good in the sporty gear she'd been wearing at lunch. It was a complete one eighty from the classy apparel she'd worn to the Christmas party. But it looked equally sexy on her. Lenna Davenport had a body that could wear anything. He liked that versatile feature about her. Jesus Christ. Just listen to him. He sounded like some kind of lovesick fool. He liked the versatility of her clothing? Could he possibly be any more of a dweeb? Braxton glanced at the people deep in discussion around him. It was late afternoon, and the meeting he'd scheduled was running way past the time he thought it would. But he was pleased they were making progress. His employees had actually relaxed in the past hour. They kept throwing out all these ideas and Braxton loved it. He should probably be paying more attention to what everyone said, too. 47


His eyes strayed toward Tom Davenport instead. The man would kill him if he knew how much Braxton had been daydreaming about Lenna lately. But hey, it wasn't as if he was ever going to see her again. What harm were a few wet dreams? As if. Visions of her already kept him up at night, cutting into his sleep and making him groggy and drained during the day. Now, he was losing his concentration during meetings and phasing out when he shouldn't be. Next, he'd probably make all sorts of bad business decisions and totally wreck his father's company. "Okay," he announced, tossing his pen on the table and letting out a breath as the anxiety built inside him. "That should wrap it up for today. You guys had some great ideas." He glanced at the legal pad in front of him, glad to see he'd actually jotted down a number of the comments and thoughts made. Good. At least his writing hand had been paying attention. Everyone was still talking as they filed out. Yes, it'd been a beneficial meeting indeed. His employees looked satisfied and challenged. Well, most of them did. Braxton glanced at Tom, who lingered behind, gathering a file he'd brought in. The moody scowl on Davenport's face had Braxton's eyes narrowing. He didn't think he'd ever forget his encounter with the older man that first day he'd started as acting president. He'd called all the top executives of the company into a meeting to discuss his plans for the future. He was starting 48


his first speech as the new company leader and he hadn't even gotten through his greeting, thanking everyone for coming, when Tom interrupted him, right in the middle of a sentence. "Just how much experience with selling aftermarket automobile parts do you have, Braxton?" If the condescending tone in Davenport's voice wasn't bad enough, the distaste in his gaze definitely nudged things over the edge. But Braxton had patiently responded to Tom's question... and then to a few more of Tom's questions. But as he spoke, he continued to make himself look less and less qualified for the position he'd just filled. Realizing he was losing all hope of gaining any respect, Braxton put a stop to Tom's interrogation at question number four. "You know, it doesn't really matter how many years I've been graduated from college, or how old I am, or how much experience I have, Tom. I'm already here, I'm already in charge, and you can't change that. If you have specific issues with me and want to address them further, why don't you stay after the meeting where we can discuss this in private, away from company matters." Okay, fine, he hadn't responded with any sort of aplomb. All his diplomacy had gone straight out the window. He freely admitted his mistake. Company presidents weren't supposed to lose their tempers. But damn it, the guy had pushed the wrong button. He'd pushed, period. And Braxton needed to let his people know he couldn't be pushed. What kind of leader would he be if he let bullies harass him? 49


So, he'd laid down the law with his first bully. And Tom had puffed himself up with righteous indignation, proceeding to glower at Braxton throughout the rest of the meeting. He'd been nothing but obstinate, confrontational, and defiant ever since. Staring at Davenport now, Braxton's gut burned as if he'd swallowed a liter of acid. He didn't like this man, didn't think he ever could. But Lenna... he liked. "How'd your game go?" he couldn't help but ask. Tom looked up in surprise. Braxton shrugged. "I ran into your daughter on my way to lunch." It was probably going to leave a bruise too... and not just on his thigh. "She told me about your basketball matches." Tom's face mellowed at the mention of his child. "Lenna," he murmured and smiled the proud-papa smile. Braxton blinked. Had Tom Davenport just smiled at him? "We play on Tuesdays, once a month," Tom added, then shook his head and continued to grin. "God, that girl keeps me in shape, running all over the court to block her shots. I almost miss the days when she couldn't make a basket to save her life. I sweated a lot less, anyway." Braxton smiled at the thought, imagining a young Lenna heaving a ball nearly as big as her toward the basket, needing both hands to shoot. God, she must've been adorable. "It was the cutest thing you ever saw," Tom murmured. Jerking himself back to reality, Braxton glanced at Lenna's dad. Something about the nostalgic look on the older man's face made him pause. The knot of hatred inside him 50


loosened, and he couldn't despise Davenport as much as he had thirty seconds ago. But damn it, how could he when he was the very man who'd given life to the woman who'd been haunting his dreams since the night he met her? Unsure if he wanted to hear more about Lenna, or if he wanted to find some kind of connection with Tom, he asked, "She's your oldest, right?" "She sure is," Tom answered. "I have two others. After her, there's Aaron, who'll be a senior next year, and then Janette's my middle school drama queen." He sighed like a typical proud papa. "It's amazing how fast they grow. My baby's about to enter high school. But what really aged me was packing up Lenna and sending her to college." He paused, looking a little lost. "And now she's graduated." He met Braxton's gaze and immediately narrowed his eyes as if he thought Braxton had tricked him into loosening up. Gruffly, he cleared his throat and made a move to leave. "What degree did she graduate with?" Braxton asked, stalling. Tom paused, indecision clouding his features. Then he replied, "Communications." As Braxton nodded to show he was listening, Tom went on, "She's been out for seven months now, and the dadgum girl is still working at that stupid restaurant, The Rockford Lounge." Braxton's eyebrows rose. Oh, did she now? Even as he told himself he might need to head to the Lounge one of these evenings to order a meal, his conscience warned him to stay away. Forget about her, bud. She's forbidden, remember. "That's a nice place." 51


Tom sent him a dry look. "She's a waitress. She didn't just work her butt off through four years of college to wait tables six days a week." Wanting to defend the woman he remembered talking to at the Christmas party, Braxton said, "Finding the right career takes time, Tom." Davenport scowled, not looking too receptive to receive any kind of advice from his kid superior. Braxton knew he should've just kept his mouth shut. But there was something about Tom's daughter that made him protective. It was more than how good she looked in any outfit, too. He may have only spent fifteen minutes with her at the party but, in that time, they'd connected as he couldn't recall ever connecting with anyone. They fit. He knew they would fit together like— Ahh... He should just get it out of his head already. Nothing was ever going to happen between him and Tom Davenport's daughter. Red in the face, Tom quickly gathered his papers and muttered, "Excuse me." As he stalked from the office, Braxton slumped into an empty chair and closed his eyes. "Smooth move, ex-lax," he muttered. He should've kept his big mouth shut. What right did he have to tell Tom how to treat his own daughter? He needed to befriend Davenport, not irritate him by sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Groaning at his stupidity, Braxton collected his things and forced himself to focus on work. As soon as he returned to his office, he began to read through the ideas from the meeting. 52


He was scratching out his own notes in the margins and circling things he liked as well as marking out bad ideas when his phone rang. "Farris," he answered. "God, you already sound like some hoity-toity president, don't you?" It was Greg Scanlon, his buddy who'd started ProTech. Braxton grinned. "Man, I'm just trying to keep up with you. If you think you need to run your own company, then so do I." "Shit, if you'd leave those stuffy old auto parts and come back to me," Greg offered, "I'd make you my partner." Braxton ignored the leap in his pulse at the very idea. God, how cool would it be to help Greg run ProTech? The very idea made him salivate— But he had obligations he couldn't ignore. Though his buddy couldn't see his face, Braxton forced a grin. "And leave my cushy office here? Sorry, bud, but this is where the money's at." Not that he'd been making nickels and dimes at ProTech, but yeah, he did get a higher salary at Farris. It was too bad money had nothing to do with his reasons for filling his father's shoes. If it did, he'd be a lot happier about the decision he'd made. "You say that now," Greg said in a cajoling voice, "but in another two months you're going to start missing us over here." Braxton didn't need another two months. He already missed ProTech. 53


"And do you know what I'm going to say when you come crawling back to me?" "Welcome back. It's about time," Braxton guessed. Greg laughed. "Oh, hell. You know me too well." No, they'd merely repeated this same conversation one too many times. "Anyway," Greg went on. "That's not why I called." "And here I thought that was the only reason you ever cared to talk to me anymore," Braxton teased. He could almost see his friend roll his eyes. "Ha, ha," Greg muttered, "But seriously, I need a favor." "Yeah, I know. You need me to return to ProTech." "Besides that." Smile slipping, Braxton grew alert to the distressed sound in Greg's voice. "Sure thing, pal. Name it." "Well, you see, there's this girl," Greg started. Braxton paused. Greg needed help with a girl? That didn't sound right. Greg never needed help with women. He was always bragging about his latest score, as he called it. "Yeah?" he asked slowly. "Okay, here's the deal," Greg said. "We met. We clicked. And I asked her out. But—and this is the kicker—she never goes out with a guy for the first time without doubling with her best friend. It's some kind of personal security thing she made up." Seeing exactly where this was headed, Braxton blurted out, "No." "Hey. You haven't even heard my question yet." 54


Yeah, well Braxton didn't need to hear the question. "I don't do blind dates," he stated firmly. "Especially with guard dogs." "But—" "No," Braxton repeated. "Brax, my man," Greg coaxed. "Trust me on this. I've seen the girl you would be with. She's not the usual guard dog. Her name's Erica and she's a complete babe. A real beauty." Braxton highly doubted it. Besides, if Erica was so gorgeous, then Greg would be after her instead of her friend. "Mmm hmmm," he murmured. "Then why's she still available?" There was a pause and Greg said, "Hell, I don't know. Why is any hottie ever available?" Lenna Davenport's face appeared in his head, and he conceded his friend had a point. It didn't seem possible a girl like Lenna didn't have guys following her home from the supermarket. A horrifying thought struck him. Oh, shit. What if she did have a man? What if she was serious with some great guy who bought her lots of presents and treated her like— "Did you just hang up on me?" Greg's voice growled in his ear. Braxton sighed. God, he had to quit thinking about Tom's daughter. "Okay, fine," he muttered. Maybe a night out with a "hottie" would take his mind off Lenna. "But you owe me." [Back to Table of Contents] 55


Chapter Four **** He was four days into the New Year, and Braxton had a premonition it was going to be one sucky year. He sat slumped in a chair at a small table of the Wild Side Night Club and fiddled with the label on his Heineken bottle, already dying to get home. Braxton needed to murder his good ol' pal, Gregory. Erica, his date for the evening, was on the dance floor, gyrating to the music and having the time of her life. Braxton glanced at her and shuddered. She wasn't ugly, not by a long shot, but— Braxton shuddered again. He didn't think there were words to describe Erica Wright. Personable? Yes, she seemed plenty personable and acted interested in what anyone had to say. Very interested. But, to put it plainly, the woman liked to space invade. She simply got way too close whenever he talked to her. For a while, Braxton was convinced she did it on purpose, thinking herself a comedian. But as the evening progressed, he realized she had no idea she freaked people out when she got right in their face—usually about six inches away— whenever they tried to start a conversation. Somebody needed to tell her about personal room. But Braxton decided he wasn't going to be the guy to do it. She seemed to have a good sense of humor, though. She was a cheerful gal. Then again, she had the most God-awful 56


nasally laugh. Braxton actually felt kind of sorry for her. She seemed nice. It was too bad he was bothered by her quirks. He'd glanced quickly in Greg's direction the first moment he met her—right after she had approached him as if she wanted to inspect his nostrils for nose hairs. But Greg had cleverly kept his gaze from falling anywhere near Braxton. The lousy traitor. He'd known all along about Erica's space problem. "Never again," he muttered to himself. There was no way he was ever going on another blind date in his life. The room was loud, so no one heard his muttered ravings. It was smoky too, and packed with a bunch of crazy college kids. Braxton sat by himself at a tall table for four. Greg stood at the bar, getting another round of Pina Coladas for the ladies. Their two dates continued having a blast on the dance floor. Braxton slumped even further into his chair. He had one foot propped on the edge of the table and tried to balance his Heineken on his stomach as he glanced around the swarming club. Lord, he'd been working at Farris too long because this crowd acted way too young for him. There were guys out there slipping their hands up girls' shirts, and the women were rubbing their bodies all over... everything. All the females were practically in their underwear too, not that Braxton minded that aspect. But, damn, weren't they cold? It was January, for crying out loud. His gaze fell on one stunning body. Caught, he stared, spellbound. There. As least she'd dressed for the weather and 57


still looked amazing. She'd covered just enough to tease. In black pants, wide around the ankles but snug and low over ripe hips, she revealed an occasional peek of flat stomach. Her long-sleeved turtleneck was tight enough to show the goods, yet loose enough to make him curious for more. The blouse had this iridescent gleam to it, which was how it caught his attention in the first place. She wore her blonde hair down and it curled at the ends, brushing against the tops of her shoulders. Hoping she didn't have a butterface, Braxton lifted his attention to her eyes and was surprised to discover she was scoping him out in return. And, oh God, he knew her. Braxton straightened from his bored and slouched position and nearly spilled his beer in his lap. Fumbling, he caught the bottle and set it on the table, only to search for Lenna Davenport again. She smiled and waved when she noticed she'd caught his attention. His body automatically lifted his hand and forced him to wave back. His throat went dry, and his pulse leapt when he realized she was making her way toward him. He quickly took a drink and hopped out of his chair. His heart thudded painfully against his chest with every step she grew closer. Going to her now would only lead to more forbidden thoughts. But she was already approaching and, well, he couldn't stay away. "Hi," he shouted so she could hear him above the roar. He absorbed her full smile and breathed in the enticing smell wafting off her, the same vanilla fragrance she'd worn to the Christmas party. 58


"Hi," she yelled back. "What're you doing here?" Braxton rolled his eyes and pointed toward the two girls dancing together. "Blind date." Lenna winced when she heard his answer. She leaned closer and Braxton about drowned on his own drool. "Doesn't look like you're having such a great time." She'd only moved in so she wouldn't have to talk so loud, but Braxton took advantage of her proximity, filling his nostrils with her scent. He inhaled as much as possible, as if he could save it somehow and take the extra stored aroma home with him. Now if only some of Erica's personality could rub off on her so she'd snuggle just one more step closer. God, he wished. "I'll pay you a hundred bucks to break me out of here," he responded, calling into her ear. Lenna laughed that sweet laugh of hers. "Oh, no you don't." She patted his arm. "We all must make our sacrifices to the blind date god. I'm not getting you out of this one, bud." The music changed to something soft and slow. Braxton could see his and Greg's dates starting back toward their table. He groaned deep in his throat, knowing he should return to Hell. But just as Erica pulled out her chair to sit, some other guy approached, touching her elbow and causing her to turn back. She obviously—hopefully—knew him because she greeted him with an ear-to-ear smile and a fullbody hug. Then she hooked her arm through his and dragged him onto the dance floor. 59


Too relieved to think through his next action, Braxton whirled to Lenna. "So, save me for five minutes," he urged. "Dance with me." Lenna's eyes widened. "I didn't think you danced." Nibbling on her bottom lip, she eyed the floor and then him. "You didn't at the Christmas party." So, she'd noticed that, had she? Braxton grinned. "That's because I didn't feel right about asking you then." Appearing even more stunned by his confession, her eyes zipped to his. He held a hand out to her, silently encouraging her to take his fingers. Touching her might lead to a slow and painful death at her father's hand, but Braxton decided right then and there, it would be worth it. Lenna looked as indecisive as she did tempted. Even as she warily eyed him, her hand slowly came out and took his. He gave her a warm smile and led her onto the floor. He held her close, staring down into her eyes as they swayed. He wanted to tell her how good she looked, how glad he was to dance with her, how bad he wanted to get inside her. But he opted for light conversation. "Come here often?" She smiled. "My friends and I were in a dancing mood." "Then I'm glad to oblige the mood for you," he answered and twirled her. "Well, thank you, kind sir," Lenna responded, her eyes glittering with amusement. "I shall be forever grateful for your bold and courageous act." 60


She was only teasing. She lifted her chin and sent him a lofty mistress-of-the-manner look before she broke into a grin. But her words took on a whole new meaning. It had been a nervy move for him to ask her to dance. It was probably foolish too, tempting them both this way, giving each other a taste so they'd only crave more. Lenna seemed to understand the circumstance as clearly as he did. Her eyes lost their blissful gleam. Braxton tightened his grip as if he were desperately trying to latch onto the perfect moment they'd been having before it slipped away. "How was your holiday?" he asked, attempting to start fresh. A wave of deja vu gripped him. Hadn't they tried this before? He and Lenna would start talking. They'd gradually drift onto a personal topic, but as soon as they took a step over the line, they'd both back off until one of them started a new conversation with a safe subject. They kept tiptoeing around this attraction, and it frustrated the hell out of him. But he couldn't make himself pull away and leave well enough alone. He just couldn't ignore her draw. Lenna latched onto his polite, yet superficial, question and regaled him with her holiday experience. She's spent both Christmas and New Year's with her family. As she mentioned her father with increasing regularity, he wondered if that was her way of warning him off. But he soon decided Lenna was just that close to Tom. 61


It made him want to howl in misery. Why, oh, why did she have to be Tom's? Their song ended. As a new one started, Braxton met Lenna's eyes. "Want to stick it out another round?" he asked, since another love ballad filled the speakers. "You don't think your date will mind?" she asked, her eyes shifting to Erica, where yet another guy stepped in and asked her to dance. No, his date certainly didn't appear to miss his company. "What? You don't think I care, do you?" Braxton shot back, looking surprised. Lenna gave him an appalled look before she realized he wasn't serious. She threw her head back and laughed. "God, you're awful. What a terrible thing to say." Braxton grinned. "Just being honest." Just for the heck of it, he dipped her and then swirled her in a circle, making her hair fly before settling back against her shoulders. Lenna continued to laugh, holding onto him more tightly and making him wish he'd tried the move sooner, because she never did manage to shift away once she got closer. Their bodies brushed, and Braxton floated in the heady sensation. He lowered his face to hover it over her shoulder, their cheeks accidentally grazing in the process. Praying for the dance to last forever, he held her against him. But the next song started only moments later. It had a fast beat, yet Braxton continued to move slowly with Lenna until she tapped him on the shoulder. "Umm, the song's over." 62


He lifted his head. "In other words, you're sending me back to my date from hell now." He winced and pressed a hand to his heart. "You really don't like me, do you?" Lenna gave him a pitying look. "Don't be that way. She can't be as bad as that." Braxton arched his brows. "Want to bet?" He took her hand, their fingers automatically lacing together in such a natural way Lenna gawked at them. He gave a brief squeeze. "I really hate to torture you this way," he said, already ushering them toward his table, where Erica had reached his empty seat and flopped down, waving at her sweaty face with her hand. "But you leave me no choice." Lenna stumbled after him. "Wait. What're we doing?" He paused and glanced over his shoulder. "I'm introducing you to her." "Whoa. Braxton. I don't need to..." But he wasn't about to let her go. He didn't stop until right before they reached his table. Then he tilted his head down toward hers as he spoke in her ear. "I really should warn you, but there's just no preparation for this." Lenna wrinkled her brow, sending him a half smile and half-confused frown. Man, she thought he was joking. If only. Then he turned toward his group. "Hey, guys," he called, tugging her closer. "I'd like you to meet Lenna." He went around, pointing first at Greg, who nodded in greeting and leaned over the table to shake her hand. Then he motioned toward Greg's date, Nadine. Nadine gave her a 63


friendly wave but stayed next to Greg. And finally, Braxton turned to his blind date. "And this is Erica." Lenna jumped when Erica flew from her chair and came straight at them. Erica hurried forward, and it didn't look like she was going to stop. No doubt fearing she'd be trampled by the woman with the huge smile, Lenna took a quick step back, running smack into Braxton's chest where he'd been standing partially behind her. In reaction, he caught her waist to steady her. But he didn't give her any more leeway, no doubt making her feel as trapped as he had the first moment he met his date. Erica came so close her breath tickled his face—and he was still on the other side of Lenna. Erica's eyes seemed extra large as she snagged Lenna's hand. "Hey, Lindsey," she greeted perkily. "How do you know Braxton?" "It's Lenna," Lenna tried to tell her. "What?" Erica said, and—oh, dear God—she moved even closer, putting her ear against Lenna's mouth and making Lenna lean against him even more. Braxton's chest shook with laughter. "My name is Lenna," Lenna tried again. "Lenny?" Erica asked, lifting her face to frown. "Len-nah!" "Oh. Linda!" Erica said, laughing a nasally cackle that caused Lenna to jerk in surprise.

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Braxton, who was keeping her captive by sandwiching her there between him and Erica, felt the jolt and held his face tight as he tried to stop sniggering. Erica repeated her question about knowing Braxton. "He's my dad's boss," Lenna explained. She tried to smile politely but looked more like a cornered rabbit wanting to escape. Erica grinned with teeth too large for her mouth. She looked at Braxton over Lenna's shoulder. "Your dad's Braxton's boss, huh? That's nice." Lenna tried to cut in. "No, he's my dad's—" But Braxton's hand tightened on her waist. He leaned forward and said into her ear, "Don't even bother." Lenna glanced over her shoulder, and he added, "Trust's me, it's not worth the effort. She won't get it." Erica continued to chat about Braxton running into his boss's daughter. "How wonderful," she said. "Isn't it lucky you guys ran into each other. I bet you have plenty to tell your boss come Monday, don't you, Braxton?" She exhausted the subject to no end, snorting at her own joke and drifting even closer to them. Finally, Lenna leaned back against Braxton and muttered, "Help," out of the side of her mouth. He chuckled and stepped back to give her space, which Lenna gobbled up. "Hey, I'm going to escort Lenna back to her friends," he said to Erica, interrupting her in mid-sentence, the only way he'd discovered he could get a word in edgewise. 65


"Oh. Okay, then," Erica said, smiling that huge-toothed smile. "It's was nice to meet you, Jenna." "It's Len—" Braxton tugged her away. "That was cruel and unusual punishment," Lenna grumbled and testily jerked her elbow from his hold. Stunned by the force in which she rebuffed him, Braxton pulled to a surprised halt. He looked down at her with instant worry but was relieved to see amusement lurking in her expression. Without thinking about it, he brushed her hair off her forehead and out of her eyes to see her face more clearly. She looked so transfixed by the move, she didn't attempt to stop him. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "But I was desperate. I needed you to see what I've been suffering through all night so you'd have pity and rescue me." Lenna's lips parted, her eyes couldn't seem to leave his. "It worked." She took his hand, their fingers lacing once again, and led him across the room to her group. Lenna introduced him to three attractive girls; Trista, Robin and Audrey. They were about to take a round of Jager Bombs. Before he could refuse, Braxton found a shot glass and another cup being shoved into his hands. "Oh," he said, surprised. "Thanks." He glanced toward his group. Greg, Nadine, and Erica were still sitting at the table, chatting away without him. He turned back to Lenna. She had her own set of glasses and grinned at him as she lifted them in a toast. 66


"To blind dates," she called, and dropped the shot of Jagermeister into the cup of Red Bull, downing the contents in one slug. Shrugging, Braxton did the same. Her friends gathered curiously around him then to ask him about himself. But before he could open his mouth, Lenna jumped in, telling them he still worked at ProTech. Since she obviously didn't want them to know he was her father's boss, he kept his mouth shut and let her tell it her way. She was in the middle of her tall tale when Erica appeared at his side and leaned up to talk in his ear. "Nadine just got sick," she announced. "So, Greg and I are going to take her home." Braxton glanced toward their table, but it was empty. Without warning, Erica kissed his cheek and added, "It was nice meeting you, Braxton. Have a good life." Then she grinned at Lenna and waved goodbye to her as well. As she started away, he watched her hurry to meet Greg and Nadine at the exit. "There goes your blind date," Lenna said needlessly. Braxton nodded. "I don't think she ever wants to see me again," he murmured, remembering Erica's words. Have a good life. He grinned and repeated, "She never wants to see me again." Lenna rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's too bad," she announced cheerfully and then grabbed the front of his shirt. "Now take another Jager Bomb with me." 67


Unable to deny her, Braxton drank another. Then he drank a couple more. By the time the bar closed and started kicking people out, both he and Lenna were well on their way to plastered. She leaned heavily against him and lifted her face to meet his gaze. "I don't..." She paused to hiccup. "I don't think I should drive." "Who cares?" her friend, Trista, called. "You rode with me. Now, come on, Len. Let's get out of here. I want to go home." But Lenna ignored her friend, or maybe she didn't even hear her. She continued to stare up into Braxton's eyes. "I'll see her home," he heard himself say as he gazed right back. For the life of him, he couldn't think of one reason why that might be a bad idea. Lenna felt good. She walked with Braxton to his car, and he escorted her to the passenger side where he manually tried to unlock the door. "God." He winced and tried to focus on the car handle. "I can't even get the key in the lock." Lenna laughed. She propped herself against his car, because it was the closest support around, and held her stomach as mirth consumed her. "Too bad you don't have remote locks," she said between her giggling hiccups. Braxton paused. After a moment of intense thought, he met Lenna's eyes and grinned. "Oh, right." He lifted his key ring to show her the remote dangling from his palm. 68


Lenna saw it and started all over again with her hiccupping giggles. To muffle the sound, she slapped her hand over her mouth, only to frown and pat around her face. "Hey, I can't feel my nose." Paying her no attention, Braxton scowled at his set of keys and wondered aloud, "So, what button do I push?" He tried one and the alarm went off with flashing lights and a honking horn. Yelping out a curse, he slapped his thumb over another button, and another, until the car calmed. Lenna dropped her arms to her sides and couldn't stop the next round of hiccupgiggles bursting from her as if her life depended on it. When Braxton finally discovered how to unlock the automobile, he opened the passenger door for Lenna, who was now sitting on the ground, wiping tears of laughter off her cheeks. She looked up, still shaking with silent mirth, and met his gaze. "Are you sure you can drive?" He nodded his head yes, but said, "Absolutely not." Lenna laughed again. He tugged her to her feet. "Let's find a cab." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Five **** By the time the taxi pulled to a stop in front of Lenna's apartment building, she swore every nerve in her body had to be high on steroids. The Red Bull from their Jager Bombs had definitely kicked in. But she didn't feel like laughing anymore. No, her adrenal boost had moved onto to other parts of her anatomy. As she paid her half of the fare and slid from the back seat, Braxton followed her out. "I'll walk you to your door." She wasn't about to say no. As soon as they exited the car, the cabbie put the engine into gear and drove off. Braxton whirled back and frowned after the departing automobile. "Where the hell is he going?" Lenna covered her mouth with her hand to hide one of the giggles she thought she'd drained from her system at the club, but it blurted out between her fingers. Braxton turned toward her. He pointed after the departing cab. "That was my ride." Lenna nodded. "I know." She kept in a smile as she said it, but a moment later, she laughed outright. Finally, Braxton shook his head and joined her with his own chuckle. "Come on up," she offered, holding her hand toward him. "You can call another cab from my room." 70


He paused, looking uncertain. "I did leave my cell phone charging in my car." Finally, he took her fingers. The warmth of his touch spread up her arm. Lenna nearly whimpered with want. Mr. Perfect was proving to be a lot more damn wonderful than she'd originally figured. He wasn't so debonair and polished that he intimidated her with his wealth and status, but he had these slight little flaws bringing him down to earth and making him practical. He could tell the corniest jokes and was clumsier than one would think. He'd tripped at least twice on the dance floor tonight only to laugh at himself and say he'd meant to do that. Then, when Lenna discovered a chip in the corner of one of his top teeth, confirming he wasn't faultless, he'd touched the dental flaw with the tip of his tongue, making her stomach quiver in response. Chuckling, he explained its origin. His sister had punched him in the face when he was thirteen because he'd murdered one of her dolls, hanging it by the neck from the stairwell of their house. His parents had decided not to repair the chip so he'd always remember not to underestimate the roundhouse of a ticked off sibling. And he'd never gotten around to fixing it since he'd moved out onto his own. Smiling over that story, Lenna tried to block out how warm his body was behind hers as he followed her to her room. When she stumbled on a step, he caught her waist to steady her. If he wanted her, he could have her, right then and right there on the stairs of her apartment building. 71


There was a distant voice in the back of her brain, telling her to stop this insanity. She should send him back down to the entrance and tell him she'd call the cab for him. But she didn't want to. She wanted one last moment alone with him. So, she paused at her door and tugged her room key from her front pocket without scooting him off. The back of her neck tingled with awareness. Knowing he was right behind her, watching her, she fumbled with the lock. She couldn't get past the fact he was about to enter her apartment. "Did I tell you how incredible you look tonight?" His voice spiked through her, making bumps lift along the back of her neck, and her nipples to perk to attention. The insides of her thighs tingled and her skin turned so sensitive, even the brush of her panties against her core made her shiver. She lifted her face. His glazed eyes looked soulful as he curled his hand and pressed the fist against his chest. "I think I die a little every time I look at you." Lenna's key slid from her hand and dropped to the floor at their feet. Braxton looked down at it for a second and then lifted his eyes. "The first time," he went on, "at the Christmas party, when I looked up and saw you in the doorway..." He paused and sucked in a breath as if he were reliving that very moment all over again. "I couldn't breathe. I haven't been able to breathe right ever since." Lips parting, Lenna shook her head to deny his words. "You shouldn't be telling me this." 72


Braxton let out a lopsided smile. "I know. God, how I know." Lifting his hands, he cupped his head and stared at her, fighting some kind of inner battle. "Your dad would freak if he could hear me right now. He'd probably kill me." Hands dropping limply to his sides, he gave her a pleading look. "I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want you to know. But, I guess I'm kind of hoping we're both so drunk, we won't remember this tomorrow. So, I'm just going to keep making a fool of myself." He took a cautious step closer. "Lenna..." he whispered. "Since the first moment I laid eyes on you, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you." Wrapping her arms around her waist, she swallowed and stared at the ground. "I keep thinking about you too," she confessed, blowing her resist-and-evade program all to hell. She heard him move toward her, cautiously creeping closer, until she could see his pant legs from the corner of her lowered eyes. Lenna raised her gaze to find him inches away. Her heart beat madly against the base of her throat. "It might only be because you're forbidden," he admitted. "Or maybe it's because you're so pretty. But I want to know you." He lifted his hand and grasped a stray piece of her hair fluttering away from the rest of her blonde locks. He rubbed it between his fingers. "I want to know everything about you." From that point on, she was a goner. "What..." She paused to lick her lips. "What do you want to know?" 73


"Everything," he repeated. "I want to know your favorite color. Your favorite food. Musical group. I want to know what your first word was? When you started walking? What you wore on your first day of school. Who was your first boyfriend? When was your first kiss? And more than anything, I want to know how you taste." Lenna swayed closer. He lifted his face, his eyes searching, pleading. She focused on his mouth and found herself licking her lips again. He dipped his head but stopped himself at the last moment. His eyes rose to hers, his gaze seeking approval. "Lenna?" God, would he just kiss her already? She was dying here. She wanted his mouth on hers. Now. But she didn't want to be the one to initiate it. She wanted him to do it. She wanted to be able to blame him in the morning when she realized what a mistake this moment had been. He wouldn't, though. Not without her full consent, her total cooperation, and her equal amount of participation. And, oh Lord, she was going to give it. She closed her eyes, her body straining forward. His fingers dropped the piece of hair he'd been toying with and moved gently to the side of her throat, where they slid softly and oh-so slowly into her hair. Lenna's head fell back. She let out a soul-relieving sigh. "Kiss me," she commanded. He shook his head and swallowed. "I don't know if I'll be able to stop." "Do it anyway." 74


He hissed out a breath and caved. Dipping his head, he brushed his mouth across hers only to leave a tingling sensation and the taste of Jagermeister and Red Bull. Lenna closed her eyes and pressed forward, opening her mouth. His tongue plundered, making her body crave immediate fulfillment. But he mastered her, turning up the intensity bit by frustrating bit as he deepened the kiss, keeping her powerless but to feel. Backing her up against the door, he covered her body with his; she drew in his tongue deeper. He slid his hands under her shirt and, Lord, she slid hers under his. He cupped her breasts, flicked his thumbs over her nipples, and she whimpered, bowing her back. She'd never experience so much eroticism or wanton need before. He made her so alive...unbelievingly, stunningly alive. She wasn't even aware someone had opened a door down the hall until Braxton broke off and lifted his head. He moved to block her from the guy coming out of his apartment and glancing their way. Panting heavily, Lenna leaned into Braxton and sucked in air as she rested her hot face against his shoulder. "You got that damn door unlocked yet?" he asked between his own quaking breaths. "I..." Lenna returned, blankly. "Where's the key?" Key? What was a key? Braxton bent down and retrieved the key off the floor. Lenna gratefully stepped aside. 75


With no more grace than he'd had on his car in the club's parking lot, he fumbled, cursed, and unlocked her door before shoving it open and dragging Lenna inside with him. Smashing his mouth back to hers, he asked, "Where's the bed?" without fully taking his lips off hers. "Right here," she answered, backing him two steps until the backs of his legs hit the mattress. For once in her life, Lenna was glad she lived in a miniscule studio apartment. Braxton didn't seem to mind either. "Thank God," he muttered as he sat back, landing on the mattress and yanking her down on top of him. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Six **** His hands were warm, his lips velvet wet, and his erection hard and unyielding. She gasped at the contact and arched into the hard bulge. Loving the zing their tangled bodies created, she threw her head back and ground against him, rubbing her chest along his until her hardened nipples sobbed for his touch. Neither of them had thought to turn on a light and neither of them seemed to care. Only a dim waver of illumination came in through the window from a flickering streetlamp. In the near dark, the sense of touch became heightened. Braxton groaned as he cupped the back of her shoulder blades in his hands. He bent his head, buried his nose inside her turtleneck, and kissed her neck, letting his tongue lick over her pulse. His touch sent a jolt to the bottoms of her toes. She bucked, creating more friction against their heated and swelling organs. He let out another strangled groan and fisted his fingers against the back of her shirt, pulling the skin of her throat between his teeth. "Lenna," he rasped in a hoarse voice, causing the sound to echo through her neck and down into her chest, where her breasts tightened even more. She gasped. "Oh, God. That feels good." Wanting his mouth on hers, she straightened her head, which dislodged his teeth-grip on her throat. 77


Lifting his face, he sought her lips. The ends of her hair brushed over his knuckles and he raised his fingers to bury them in the locks. Clutching her cranium with both hands, he spiked his wet and warm tongue into her mouth. Lenna vibrated, moving against his erection. The seam in her pants helped alleviate some of the yearning between her legs, so she found herself rubbing harder. Hissing out a curse, Braxton deserted her mouth so he could grasp the hem of her shirt and yank it over her head. Lenna lifted her arms to assist. As soon as the shirt was off, his fingers wrapped around her wrists. He kept their hands suspended over their heads as he met her eyes briefly in the dim light and then kissed her again. His tongue plundered, and Lenna pressed her bra against his chest as his fingers finally started a slow slide down her arms. Thumbs glided over the inside of her elbows and she gasped, surprised such an ordinary spot could be so sensitive. Her chest heaved with a stuttering sob of desire as all ten of his fingers coasted over her ribcage. She wanted him inside her, five seconds ago. But Braxton seemed more fixated on his leisurely strokes than shedding any more clothing. "You are so soft," he murmured and pulled his chest away from hers in order to watch himself glide his hands over her. When he reached her waist, his fingers contracted, and eight digits wrapped around her kidneys, nudging her hips down until he controlled the pace and pressure as she continued to grind against him. All the while, his thumbs rubbed a slow circle over her stomach. 78


"Braxton," she sobbed. He lifted his head. "Please." He nodded, his grip on her loosened, and his hands cruised back along her ribcage until he cupped her breasts. Then he replaced his hands with his mouth so his fingers could fumble with the back and open the clasp. Once the barrier was gone, his lips sought her prominent tips. His teeth held one beaded nub steady as his tongue flicked the puckered surface. Lenna cried out and grasped his head, her fingernails digging into his scalp as she pulled him closer. As good as his mouth felt on her breasts, though, he wasn't easing her primary ache. "Braxton," she said again. It was a demand this time. "More. Now." Her fingers tightened around his hair, telling him she was dead serious. He chuckled, a low and pleased husky sound that echoed through her entire body and vibrated between her legs. Willing to accommodate her, he scooted back along the mattress, slipping completely horizontal as he did so and stretching out his legs under her. His fingers found the top button her pants. Glad they were finally getting down to business, Lenna unzipped his pants as he worked on hers. In the dark, they tugged each other's jeans down. She reached for the front of his underwear. He grabbed her hips and rolled her until he was on top. Lenna laughed and stroked him through the cloth, making him groan and bite her shoulder. 79


"Do you have protection?" she asked as she let go of him in order to slide her hand into the waistband of his briefs. He was hot and hard and smooth. As soon as her fingers wrapped around him, they slipped down the entire length almost unexpectedly. Above her, his muscles went taut, and he sucked in a breath. "Uh..." he tried to say. "Yeah, I have...I have..." He paused to groan as she moved her hand again. He cupped her face and pressed his forehead against hers. "Condom," he finally uttered with another groan. "In my...in my wallet." "Good boy scout," she cooed and stroked his hot flesh once more in reward. His fingers tightened around her cheeks. "No," he said hoarsely. "Just...oh God...just really hopeful my blind date would work out better than it did." Lifting her face, Lenna ignored the nip of jealously that bit her. "Disappointed it didn't?" she had to know. His eyes flared open wide. "God, no!" She smiled, feminine power filling her. She tilted her chin up and brushed her mouth across his, thanking him. He moaned a mad sound of need. "I can't stop touching you," he whispered against her lips. "I want to touch and taste every inch of you." Lenna shivered at the very thought of his tongue anywhere near her pulsing, swollen center. "You just made me wet," she rasped. His mouth curved against hers. "You already were," he retorted. 80


Fingers skated quickly back down her body until they were wrapping around the stringed waistband of her panties. "I should warn you," he said as the cloth of her underwear was tugged over her thighs. "I go a lot longer when I've had this much to drink." Lenna whimpered, her fingers digging into the sheets until they tangled under her. "Ohmigod," she said when his warm breath heated her pubic hair. "Braxton," she said in a suddenly unsure and highpitched voice. "I...I...I mean, no one's ever...no one's ever gone down on me before." Her body drew tense. She wanted him to stop, yet she wanted his mouth against her throbbing nucleus more. "Shh," he whispered and soothingly stroked her hip with warm fingers. "I know what I'm doing." He did, too. In the next instant, a hot, moist tongue stroked her aching flesh. Lenna screamed. Her back arched and the electrical current zapping through her made her body spasm with greedy desire. Strong hands locked around her hipbones and held her to the bed so she couldn't unseat him as he continued to lick her. Sobbing, chest shuddering, Lenna shook her head from side to side. "Braxton," she gasped and clutched his hair. "Oh, God. Oh, God. Don't stop." He didn't. Instead, he picked up the pace, flicking his tongue and swirling it until she wanted to scream again. His hand snuck 81


over her body until a heated palm cupped her breast. Then a stray finger inched over her nipple and batted it. A split second later, Lenna exploded. Every molecule inside her screamed to get out. No grip on her could hold her down as she arched and cried out unintelligible, garbled words. She bucked against his mouth and came in a rush unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. His tongue continued to lavish her until the last ripple of shock abated. Breathing hard, Lenna blew out a breath and stared into the darkness of her small studio apartment. She was a screamer. She'd never made such a racket in bed before. But Braxton Farris had turned her into a screamer. Suddenly shy and embarrassed, Lenna feared he'd make fun of her now. Prepared to curl into a ball and weep if he made one comment about busted eardrums, she braced herself. But all he said was, "I want to see you. God, Lenna. I have to see you now." Swamped in relief, she nodded and scooted over an inch so she could reach for her bedside lamp. Once the light clicked on, she twisted back, wanting to see him too. He was the most heart-stopping, beautiful sight she'd ever witnessed. He wore only a pair of snug black underwear. His body was gleaming and toned with muscles filling a lean, compact body. He hovered above her on all fours, reminding her of a prowling lion—his shoulders gathering and rotating with each step—as he crawled up her body and over her. There was a 82


predatory gleam in his eyes as if he really were a lion spotting his tasty prey. Then he smiled, and his face transformed from stalking lion to huggable teddy bear. "Hi," he whispered. Lenna swallowed, her body coming alive again. Even after the mind-blowing orgasm he'd just given her, she wanted more. The sweet grin caught her right in the loins just as intensely as the prowling, predatory awareness had. "Hi," she managed to return, breathless and dizzy. "You're beautiful," he murmured, finally taking his eyes off her. His gaze trailed over her naked figure. "So...very beautiful." Lenna lifted her hand and touched his face. She brushed a lock of stray black hair off his forehead. "Are you going to finish?" she asked, amused because he wasn't already getting straight to that. He nodded, keeping his eyes stuck to her body as he scanned her up and down. "I just want to look for a minute," he said. "And touch," he added as he lifted a hand to her breast. Lenna closed her eyes at his easy touch. It was light, almost impersonal, and very explorative. The pads of his fingers soothed and stroked, making her hum. After investigating her breasts, he moved down over her belly. Her stomach muscles tensed and quivered. A breath shuddered out of her. "You're making me want you again," she warned. 83


He grinned. "Good. I want you to come at least once more. Maybe twice. Then, I want you to go off when I'm inside you and you're wrapped around me so tight you can milk me for all I'm worth." Lenna whimpered. "I think...I think I can do that." He could make her do that. Braxton lifted his face to meet her eyes. The look that followed should've scared her. She'd never experienced such a connection with anyone else before. Could he see straight inside her? She shuddered, and he stroked her face, soothing and kind like he understood and wanted to calm her. Not ready for such a personal link, she grabbed his wrist and set it back on her chest. He laughed and kneaded the warm skin surrounding her nipples. "I guess you're ready then?" he asked. She nodded. He nodded too. "Where're my pants?" he asked as he glanced around. When he spotted them hanging off the side of the bed, he pulled them close, fumbling until he found his back pocket and yanked his wallet free. As he flipped it open and dug inside for the condom, Lenna rolled to her knees and rubbed her hand up this thigh, letting her nails occasionally scrape warm skin. He shuddered and glanced at her, grinning. "That feels good," he said as he slipped the foil packet from his wallet. With every intention of helping, Lenna scooted toward him on the mattress. But instead of giving a hand, a sudden deviousness struck. She leaned forward to tease instead, 84


nipping at the base of his throat and sucking, causing him to mumble out a curse and become clumsier in his endeavor to open the package. Groaning out a sound of frustration, he forgot the condom and yanked her close, pressing their chests flush against each other. "You're killing me here," he ground out and lowered his head to her shoulder to kiss the smooth skin there. But as he lifted his face, his eyes caught on something behind her. In a nanosecond, his body went tense. "Jesus, God!" he gasped and jerked back, nearly falling off the edge of the bed in his haste to escape. "What?!" Lenna yelped, her eyes widening. She whirled around, looking in the direction he'd been gaping, expecting to find King Kong or some such ghoulish fiend behind them, ready to attack. "Your d-dad," he wheezed, jerking his finger toward her nightstand. "He's staring right at me." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Seven **** She didn't even have to follow Braxton's glance to know what he referred to. On her nightstand, there sat a framed four-by-six picture of her, standing next to her father on graduation day. His arm was wrapped around her shoulder while she clutched her diploma to her chest, showing it off as they both beamed at the camera. After closing her eyes and giving a brief shake of the head, Lenna finally opened up to study the picture further. Yes, it did look like she and her dad were smiling directly at Braxton. "Sorry," she murmured and quickly moved forward to lay the frame face down on the surface of the nightstand. "Forgot that was there." She turned back to find Braxton running his fingers through his hair and looking regretful as he blew out a long breath. He'd just lost his mood... completely. A flare of irritation struck her. "It's just a picture," she said. He nodded and wouldn't meet her eyes for a moment. Then he finally glanced her way and sighed again. "You're really close to him, aren't you?" "Yes," Lenna said, not bothering to sugarcoat that fact. "He's not just my father. He's my friend, too." Braxton continued to nod as his gaze jerked away from hers. 86


"Look," she started. "I know he can be a bit overbearing sometimes—" She broke off abruptly when he snorted derisively at her word choice. When she glared, he winced in apology. "Sorry," he mumbled. She closed her eyes and pressed her thumbs to the center of the forehead. "Tom Davenport has his moods," she allowed, "but he is the most honest and just person I know. He'd die for me if he had to." Opening her eyes, she settled Braxton with a stern look. "He's a good man." "I'm sure he is to you," he conceded softly. Lenna's mouth dropped. "Oh my God," she said. "You really don't like him at all, do you?" He glanced away guiltily. "I just think," he started slowly, "if only he'd stop treating me like a snot-nosed little brat that doesn't know what I'm doing, then I'd get along with him a lot easier." "Well, have you given him any reason to think of you as a snot-nosed brat?" she retorted. "My father doesn't treat anyone badly unless they deserve it." Braxton's face darkened. "Hey, he started the whole pissing contest we've got going. He jumped in my ass the first moment I stepped behind my dad's desk." She opened her mouth to argue, but Braxton waved a finger in her face. "No, I never wanted to make an enemy of him," he protested. "But he gets me so mad sometimes. I can't help but smart back with a rude comment when he turns all 87


cynical and demeaning. The guy just needs to back off and let me do my job." Though she fully agreed—her father did need to lighten up where the younger generation was concerned—Lenna frowned, irritated that she'd been interrupted. "Maybe he doesn't think you're doing it right," she lashed back. "He's not giving me a chance!" Braxton yelled. Lenna crossed her arms over her chest and suddenly realized she was naked. The move caused Braxton to pause as well and run his gaze over her nude figure. Frowning, she lifted her knees to shield the view from him as she continued to guard her breasts with her arms. He closed his eyes and whispered a stream of curse words. Lenna used that moment to grab her deserted clothes and cover herself even more. Braxton turned his face away as he opened his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said solemnly, regretfully. "This isn't the time or place to talk about him." "We almost had sex," she announced numbly. She'd almost slept with her father's boss, her father's nemesis. He turned toward her, his gaze seeking. "Lenna," he murmured. He looked like he wanted to reach for her. "Don't feel bad about this. It..." He shook his head. "It doesn't have anything to do with him. This is between you and me. Tom doesn't—" "Don't say his name," she cut in with a high voice.

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His mouth dropped as he stared at her. "Lenna," he whispered, "please don't regret what we did. It was... it was magic." Suddenly, she felt like crying. There he went again, being a complete Prince Charming... three seconds after he'd just bashed her father big time. She squeezed her eyes tight and huddled under the cover of her clothing. "I think you should call your cab now," she said quietly. When he didn't answer, she slowly opened her eyes. It completely shocked her to see the utterly devastated look on his face. But when her gaze set on him, he quickly masked the expression and nodded mutely. She watched as he ran a shaky hand through his hair and then reached for his pants. Seeing him dress propelled her to do the same. They kept to opposite sides of the bed, their backs to each other, as they put themselves to rights again. Every once in a while, he'd quietly toss her an article of her clothing and she'd hand over his. Not a word was spoken until he moved toward her phone and dialed a taxi service. His words were low as he rattled off the address to the person on the other end of the line. Once again, Lenna had the uncontrollable urge to cry. This wasn't ending how she'd wanted it to at all. Actually, it hadn't begun like she'd wanted it to either. She hadn't wanted it to start, period. But since it had, she'd at least wanted to feel him inside her before he walked out. She'd known she should've stayed away. She never should've danced with him at the club or even gone over to 89


talk to him tonight. What in the world had she been thinking, sleeping with her father's boss? Braxton disconnected the call and silence reigned. His back was to her as he stared at the small living space she inhabited. His black hair was rumpled and his clothes were wrinkled. In short, he looked sexy and mussed. She just wanted to tug him back onto the bed and finish their fun. But the upside-down portrait of her father caught her attention. "You're not going to tell him what we did, are you?" She had to know. He glanced her way with a scowl that quickly made her feel lower than trash. Of course, he wasn't going to blab. Lenna dropped her head, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." Her words broke off and she sat there in misery. When she didn't finish, he cleared his throat. "I think I'll wait for my cab downstairs." Mutely, Lenna watched him head for the door. But as he reached for the handle, she couldn't take it anymore. "Braxton," she called with a hoarse voice because her throat had gone bone dry. At first, she was afraid he hadn't heard and that he was going to leave, but then he paused and glanced back. Letting out a cry of surrender, she launched herself at him. He caught her and pulled her in tight, kissing her before she could tell him how sorry she was. Their fingers instantly turned seeking and, wanting more, she started to pull his shirt over his head so she could press her mouth to his hard flat chest. But he caught her hand. 90


"No," he gasped. "Damn, Lenna." Leaning wearily against her, Braxton buried his face in the crook of her neck. "We can't." Her racing hormones calmed as they rested against each other, soaking into the warmth and support the other had to offer. "This sucks," he finally said as he lifted a hand to run it over her hair. "I don't give a damn about his approval, but I can tell you do. And we both know your father wouldn't just stand aside to let us be together." Agreeing completely, she closed her eyes. Tom Davenport would complain and interfere and balk until he pressured them apart. She knew her dad too well to know he wouldn't. Her mom used to tease that where Lenna was concerned, Tom's middle name was Meddle. Braxton let out a long, depressed sigh. "We haven't even started and we're already doomed." Lenna tightened her grip on him. She didn't want to let go. Licking her dry lips, she lifted her face and said, "Maybe... maybe if we just don't let him know about it, then he won't be hurt and—" She stopped suddenly when she heard her own deceitful words. She risked a glance at him, hoping Braxton didn't jump all over the idea. When she saw the distaste on his face, however, she ached for him all the more. "I couldn't do a secret relationship," he said. Then he smiled softly and ran a finger down her cheek. "I'd want to tell too many people if I had a beauty like you." 91


Lenna turned her face toward his touch. "Why does that decision make me want you even more?" He smiled and cupped her face. "Because it lets you know what a good guy I am?" he guessed. His teasing worked to make her lips tilt. Her heart ached, however, and she sank against him even more. "One more kiss before you go?" Eyes heating, he dipped his head. "Yes, please," he said and touched his lips to hers. Their mouths were still latched together, clinging desperately, when a car horn sounded on the street below. Braxton was the first to pull away. "My cab." Lenna pressed her face against his chest. His hand covered her hair for a moment and then he let go. "I had a wonderful time tonight," he murmured. "Everything we did together... it might've been a mistake, but I don't regret it. I'm glad I got to spend a little time with you. You just gave me a really amazing memory." "There you go again," Lenna told him as she stepped in reverse and met his eyes. "Being all noble and irresistible." Typical Prince Charming behavior. He grinned and shook his head. "If you only knew how tempted I am to forget that cab and crawl back into your bed," he said. "You'd run screaming for the hills." Well, yes, she probably would scream if they returned to bed. Shaking off the intense desire to draw him back, she took another step away. 92


Still facing her, he reached for the door behind him and opened it. Their eyes caught and held. "It's probably a good thing we stopped," he said. "I have a bad feeling I would've fallen a little too hard, a little too fast." Before she could respond, he was out the door and gone. Clutching her stomach, she sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the closed portal. As his sweet words repeated themselves through her head, she realized she'd already fallen for him. Too hard and way too fast. Lenna waited for him to yank open the door and return to her. But he didn't. Instead, she heard the slam of a car door outside and then the engine of the taxi as he was carried away. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Eight **** Every Sunday, Lenna ate dinner with her parents. This week, she arrived fidgeting. She couldn't manage to stay still. Wanting to be useful and needing to show her father she still loved him despite what she'd done with his nemesis the night before, she helped her mom set the table and finish preparing supper. During the meal, Tom asked her about her job search, as he always did. Lenna bit her lip and lied. She told him she'd sent in an application to a corporation seeking a public relations spokesperson. Tom smiled with pleasure and nodded his head approvingly, making Lenna want to sink through the floor. Damn, maybe she really should apply at a stupid corporation. But Braxton's advice echoed through her head. Just don't leap into some career that isn't what you want merely because it's taking you too long to decide. Lenna let out a breath, confirmed she was doing the right thing in her job hunt. She had no idea how it happened, but talk of her dad's work started. Her brother, Aaron, like the pest he was, jokingly asked how the new boss was getting along. Her heart dropped into her stomach as Tom's eyes frosted over. "That kid," he muttered, "got a plateful he couldn't handle when he fell into his daddy's shoes." 94


The rest of her visit with her family went downhill from there. Lenna left as soon as she helped put away the cleaned dishes. Anxiety ate her alive. She slipped out the back door and hurried to her car. When she finally settled into the driver's seat, she started the engine but continued to stare at her childhood home. This was all wrong. She'd stopped before going too far with Braxton. She'd held herself back and made him call a cab, yet that didn't seem to matter. Her guilt lingered. Lenna had never kept anything from her dad before. Sure, she didn't tell him everything. Her personal life was just that. Personal. But she was keeping a secret she knew would wound him if he discovered it. He'd feel betrayed, like she'd gone after the one man he couldn't stand merely to upset him. Tom Davenport was a good, honest person. But he wasn't the forgiving sort. If he thought she'd wronged him, he'd hold a grudge for a long time. Sick to her stomach, Lenna leaned forward and rested her head on the steeling wheel. "What am I going to do?" she whispered to herself. As Monday came, Braxton found himself in the meeting room at Farris Industries with a dozen other employees, one being the father of the girl he'd had his mouth all over two nights before. His gaze accidentally latched onto Tom's disapproving glower, and Braxton quickly turned away. Suddenly, the only thing he could see was Lenna's face, her naked belly, pert nipples, and silky blonde nether curls. 95


A trickle of sweat rolled down his spine. He took a deep breath and faced his employees. God, how was he going to do this? He swore Tom Davenport was glaring laser beams at him, frying him from the inside out. Braxton tugged his tie loose before he realized what he was doing. As soon as he unbuttoned the top button, his secretary gasped, then wolf whistled. "Wow. Nice hickey, boss," Tasha said, making other employees snort. Eyes widening, Braxton slapped his hand over the spot where Lenna had teasingly left a very distinct mark. The collar of his shirt had been effectively hiding it all day until he'd forgotten and opened a button. He flashed a quick, guilty glance Tom's way and swallowed when he saw the unimpressed frown on the older man's face. "Let's get onto our first topic of discussion," Braxton said as he re-buttoned his collar and ignored the fact he was blushing. "The Trevis account." He cleared his throat and turned to the woman sitting three seats down on his right. "Gloria, I assigned that to you. How's it going?" Gloria's face flamed bright red. "What? Oh, I, uh, I passed it on to Tom." Braxton froze. "You did?" Dear God, he was going to have to look at Tom again. "Why?" Gloria quickly glanced from him to Tom and then back to Braxton. "It, uh, I was swamped with work and he'd just finished that ad sheet we sent to Consumer Reports, so..." She shrugged. 96


Braxton stared at her a moment, wanting to strangle her for making him turn his attention to Lenna's father. Hands fisting under the table, he shifted his eyes across the room. "Tom?" Davenport leaned back in his chair, rocking as he folded his hands behind his head. "It's going good," he answered. Studying the man's face a moment longer, Braxton said, "Would you care to elaborate on that?" Tom's jaw knotted, his face darkened, and a vein bulged in his temple. "They signed the contract," he finally answered from between stiff, unmoving lips. Braxton wasn't up for going a round with Davenport this morning, so he merely turned away and murmured, "Good." He switched the topic to budgeting and the allocation of funds; thankfully, he didn't have to speak to the arrogant dick through the rest of the meeting. After they were finished and people were heading out the door, Pat Foley paused to grin at him. "Guess you had a good weekend, Kid." Braxton glanced up. Pat winked and slugged him on the back. "Boy, do I remember when I was young and single. Good times. Good times." He sidled closer. "But I gotta know," he murmured confidentially low. "Was she really as frisky as it looks?" Braxton scowled, too insulted for Lenna's sake to even be embarrassed. He wondered what Foley would say if he knew he'd just called the very girl who'd labeled him her prince at the Christmas party, frisky. The lecherous old coot. 97


Eyes narrowed, he said, "I think you need to go work on the budget I just assigned you, Pat." Pat jerked back, surprise in his gaze. Nodding, he cleared his throat and shot out the door. Braxton gazed after him. He didn't realize Pat had just left him alone with Lenna's dad until Tom spoke. "I know your little secret." Braxton stopped breathing. The papers he'd been gathering slipped from his hands, scattering across the tabletop. Tom knew? Braxton's eyes about popped out of his head as gaped at Lenna's father. "You do?" Holy God, that was fast. How had he found out? Had Lenna told him? Tom nodded. Bursting to his feet, Braxton lifted his hands. "Look, Tom. I know what you must be thinking." He paused and squeezed his eyes closed. Lord, what was he saying? "Okay," he amended. "I have no idea what you're thinking, but I can imagine you're very upset right now. And I take full responsibility for—" "What the hell are you talking about?" Tom interrupted, staring at Braxton as if he'd lost his marbles. Braxton froze and stared back. Oh, hell. Tom didn't know, did he? "What are you talking about?" he hedged. "I'm talking about your plans to go international," Tom hissed. 98


Braxton gave the man a blank look before he snapped to business. "I haven't actually decided to do that yet. I was only researching the possibility of—Wait a second—" He cut himself off. "How do you know about that? I haven't—" Tom shook his head and brought his hand to his brow as if he thought Braxton was hopeless. "Kid, when are you going to learn that nothing is a secret around here? If someone sneezes on the first floor, someone else on the fourth is going to say, 'Bless you.'" "Right," Braxton said. He fell back into his chair, shocked the rumor had spread so fast. He was going to have to mind his P's and Q's from here on out. "Do you realize how risky this venture is?" Tom demanded. "If a project like this fell through, everyone on staff would feel the aftershock. You'd have to lay off—" "I know exactly how risky it is," Braxton cut in. "That's why I haven't made a decision yet. But I can see from his notes, Dad was considering the possibility too, and—" "You're not your father." Back going straight, Braxton waited a moment to keep from exploding. As calmly as he could manage, he said, "I know that." Tom sent him a meaningful scowl. "Then what's to decide? Don't risk it, and you won't lose the company. We're doing fine as it is." Braxton sighed. "But even you can't deny what an achievement it'd be if we succeeded in getting an international company like Renault on our account and kept them there. Do you know what kind of profits we could spike 99


to if we got a successful international trade set up? Hell, it would triple our entire customer base." "Yeah," Tom admitted, clenching his teeth as he pointed an accusing finger at Braxton. "But it's still dangerous. If you try this, put all kinds of money into it, and then it falls through, you'll send us into a decline and maybe put us out of business." Braxton nodded. He was well aware of that fact. But he murmured, "Truth be told, I have every confidence this crew can carry an international seller. Don't you?" Tom just stared at him. "You better do all your research before you make a decision." "I will," Braxton assured him. Turning away as if satisfied with that answer, Tom paused before whirling back to squint at Braxton, dissecting him with his gaze. It made Braxton uncomfortable. "Where's your usual cheeky comeback?" Braxton swallowed. He gave Tom a small smile. "Fresh out." Tom studied him a moment longer, looking wary. "What were you talking about earlier, with all that crap about how you knew what I had to be thinking?" Shaking his head, Braxton shrugged. But from the expression on Tom's face, Braxton could tell that the older man wasn't going to give it up until he revealed something. "I...ah, I went ahead and had Beth order the yellow paper for the warrantee slips, even though I knew you wanted to stick with white." 100


Then he bit his lip and hoped to God Tom bought that excuse. Brow furrowing, Tom shrugged. "So? Why would you be so bothered with what I thought about it? They're warrantee slips, for crying out loud. Who cares what color they are?" Braxton's mouth fell open. "Who cares?" he exploded. "You're the one who make such a big stink about it in the first place. Remember?" He ground his teeth together. "You know, I'm getting real tired of having an employee who contradicts me at every turn. I would like to have a peaceful work environment one of these days. I would like for us to at least compromise, Tom." Oh, God, he was starting to lose it. "I'm sick of constantly butting heads with you. At this point, all I really want is to do something you actually approve of without nitpicking it to death, because your bitching isn't getting anyone anywhere." Braxton closed his eyes. More than anything in the world, he'd love to have Thomas Davenport's approval. And his blessing too. Letting out a sigh, Braxton opened his eyes and found Tom giving him an odd look. Instead of replying, the older man turned and walked from the room. Braxton watched him go. An awful premonition that things were only going to get worse from this point constricted his chest, making it hard to breathe. Though misery clogged his arteries, a reluctant smile twisted his lips as he realized the irony of the moment. He 101


was still scurrying around like crazy to keep the truth from Tom, yet he hadn't even slept with the guy's daughter. It frustrated him so much he fisted his hands and shook his head, laughing bitterly until his throat burned. That evening, Braxton walked into the Rockford Lounge with a newspaper tucked under his arm. He was a man on a mission. He'd never been one to lose his cool and panic. But he was starting to get damn close to doing just that and coming apart at the seams. He wanted Lenna. He thought he'd been doing a good deed by calling that cab Friday night. But the things they'd worked to prevent were happening anyway. He'd already lied to her father, and he was still keeping secrets. On a shrug, he figured as long as he was doing all that, he might as well get the girl while he was at it. Hence, here he was at her workplace, nervous enough his guts actually hurt. The hostess escorted him to a small table in a corner that had an awful view of the rest of the restaurant. Gritting his teeth, Braxton flipped open the paper and pretended to read the obituaries as he scanned every waitress that passed. Finally, he summoned the courage to ask for another table, something closer to the bathrooms. Pressing a hand to his stomach, he made a face. "It must have been the Chinese I ate for lunch." His waitress moved him to a different, tiny table where he found himself next to the bathrooms that also happened to be 102


near the waitress station. He scrutinized every server who swept by to refill drinks or calculate tabs. Not five minutes into his wait, he was rewarded with a glimpse of Lenna's stunning face as she passed him with two empty cups in hand. He was so relieved to see her, he nearly threw his paper down and leapt from his chair to yank her into his arms. She looked adorable in her black pants, white blouse, and snug-fitting Rockford Lounge vest. The red bowtie snapped to her collar reminded him of a cherry topping his favorite dessert. Braxton grinned as he took in the breathtaking sight. Refilling the drink cups in record time, Lenna started back to her table before Braxton realized she was going to flit past him without noticing him behind the newspaper he had raised over his face. "Lenna!" he called. Hearing her name, she paused and looked around. She didn't see him until he waggled his newspaper to get her attention. Then her gaze focused, and her eyelids stretched open as far as they could go. Her startled expression quickly turned leery. Braxton swallowed and bit the inside of his lip, wondering—not for the first time—if coming had been a bad move. He was tempted to jump to his feet and flee...except he'd already caught her attention; he'd look like a moron for escaping now. Not that he didn't look like some kind of lovesick idiot as it was—which made his skin itchy and his feet twitchy all over again. After glancing around as if checking the place for spies first, Lenna turned back and moved hesitantly toward him. 103


"Hi," he said, looking at his paper as if he were reading it. "Braxton? What are you doing here?" she said, her voice full of surprise and, damn it, suspicion. "How did you even know where I work?" He had to pause before answering. But if he didn't calm down and settle his nerves, he was going to pass out from adrenaline overdose. He sucked in a long, oxygen-gulping breath, and said, "I, ah...well, I heard your dad mention it." He risked a quick look at her. Her face had gone white at the mention of her father. When she met his gaze, though, she straightened and peeked around the room again. "What are you doing here?" she repeated. For a moment, he was too scared to talk. Then his words spilled out in a rush. "I changed my mind." He met her leery gaze and winced as he added, "I'm not a noble person, and I can keep a secret." Lenna took a cautious step back, making Braxton panicky, and mad, and desperate, and hurt. "What?" she spoke slowly. "What are you saying?" He gritted out a sound of irritation. He should just shut up now, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from digging the hole deeper. "I'm saying, I know I should've stayed away. I didn't want to bother you, especially at work, but—" He stopped abruptly, realizing how pathetic he sounded. Pausing, he took in another deep breath. "I want to see you again, Lenna. I want to take you on a date and just...just spend an hour or two in your company." He closed his eyes. "You're right about your dad. What he doesn't know won't bother him. I don't kiss and tell. We could keep this quiet." 104


When he opened his eyes, he risked a small glance around the paper to gauge her reaction. She looked so undecided he almost retracted his words. He knew he shouldn't proposition her to do anything against her father. He wasn't the bad boy type that seduced girls into tossing their principles into the wind. But he couldn't help it. Lenna Davenport got to him like no one else ever had. "It's your call," he murmured. Lenna lowered her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Once again, Braxton regretted putting her through this. He knew he should back off, but the alternative was too frightening. The thought of never seeing her again left him gasping for air. "Miss," a man three tables over called to her. "We're ready to order now." Lenna jumped and sent her customer an apologetic smile. "Be right there." She turned back to Braxton, her face devoid of any kind of response. He held his breath. Instead of answering him directly, she tore off a corner of his newspaper and slipped her hand into her vest pocket to dig inside. When she pulled out a pen, Braxton blinked in confusion. He leaned forward to see what she was scribbling. When he saw a telephone number take shape under her pen, his heart started to race. Her number. She was giving him her phone number. Oh, God, he was going to hyperventilate. "So...how are you?" he rasped as she finished jotting down the information. "Okay. How about you?" 105


He beamed. "I'm wonderful now." Lenna left her phone number on the tabletop midway between them. Braxton snatched up the torn-off newspaper corner and just as quickly withdrew his hand. She laughed. His eyes glittered as he met her gaze. "Thank you," he mouthed the words. Lenna nodded, already stepping away. He wanted to throw the newspaper down and haul her into his lap. He wanted to drag her to some quiet corner and have his wicked way with her. But he continued acting like he was reading as she walked toward another table with her filled glasses. With shaking hands, Braxton folded the paper and tossed some cash onto the table. Then he stood and walked from the restaurant without waiting for the meal he'd ordered to arrive. Lenna couldn't believe she was on a date with Braxton Farris. Even as he'd knocked on her door to pick her up, she kept telling herself to back out and put a stop to this crazy idea. They couldn't date, for crying out loud. He was her father's boss. But when she'd opened the door to tell him she'd changed her mind, she took one look into his anxious blue eyes, and her resolve slipped. In the five days since she'd given him her number, Lenna had wobbled back and forth, undecided. One evening, she'd sat on her bed with her phone in her lap, telling herself to call him and explain she didn't want to see him again. 106


But then he called the next night, asking if he could take her to dinner. Lenna listened to his voice, heard the desperation and uncertainty, and couldn't say no. The way he sounded mirrored so much of what she felt herself. Her connection to him thickened. In the next moment, she said, "I'd love to." In that instant, she didn't care what her dad thought about it. This was her life. She could see whomever she wanted. But in the second after that, she winced. Tom Davenport cut an intimidating figure when upset. Lenna had never intentionally done something to get on his bad side before. And this definitely would. Okay, so she was going to see Braxton again. That didn't mean she had to sleep with him. It wouldn't be such a betrayal to her dad if she were merely eating a meal with his boss. Would it? Well, it certainly had to be better than falling into bed with the guy. So sure, they could do dinner, have some of that interesting conversation she loved having with him, and then they could go their separate ways. Comforted by that decision, Lenna told herself she wasn't going to have sex with Braxton. She continued to tell herself that as she shaved her legs in preparation for their night out and then slipped into her sexiest pair of panties. "I hope you like Italian," he asked as he pulled to a stop in front of one of the nicest restaurants in town.

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Lenna's eyes widened as she glanced out his Land Rover's window. Dear Lord, he'd taken her to Georgina's. Georgina's put a place like the Rockford Lounge to shame. Still gaping, she was startled to realize a valet driver had come forward to open her door for her. She blinked at the man. Oh, whoa. This place even had valet service. By the time she shook herself back to the present and exited the vehicle, Braxton had already hurried around to her side. He grinned at her and took her hand to escort her to the front door. "Oh, Braxton," she murmured, moving bashfully closer, afraid to let him know how intimidated she'd grown. "You shouldn't have." Seeming to like the way she snuggled against him, he leaned toward her and kissed her hair before murmuring, "I wanted to." A doorman opened the entrance just as Lenna pulled back. Braxton jerked to a halt, turning toward her with instant worry marring his brow. "What's wrong?" Her eyes begged. "I can't go in there," she whispered and shook her head. Frowning, he glanced up, peered through the opened doors, and then turned back. "What? Why not?" Then, "Oh God. You don't like Italian, do you?" "No, it's not that." Her shoulders slumped. "Braxton, just look at what I'm wearing." Okay, maybe she was in heels, a jean skirt and nice top, but it certainly wasn't the outfit she would've chosen for a place like Georgina's. 108


"You look wonderful," Braxton said, but was quickly interrupted. "This place is way too nice for me. I can't..." She shook her head. "It's too classy." At her panicked confession, his face softened. He reached for her chin and lifted it until their gazes met. "The classiest part of this restaurant is you, Lenna. Don't ever think you're not worthy enough to belong anywhere. You are." She swallowed. Her shoulders relaxed, and Braxton took a firm hold of her hand. "Now, do you want to go inside," he asked, "or not?" There were too many reasons why she should say no, but as she gazed at him, she couldn't recall any of them. Bolstered by his encouraging smile, she nodded. "Let's do this." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Nine **** She probably looked like a child on her first trip to Disney World, but there was so much to see, she couldn't stop gawking. Inside the expansive foyer, a two-story waterfall trickled into a fountain with plants and vegetation blooming around it. Further inside the restaurant, a violinist serenaded a table for two. The decor of Old Italy abounded everywhere with arches and stone molding at each turn. Lenna once again felt like a princess. Glancing at her Prince Charming, she caught him watching her. She blushed and looked away, remembering their night together at her apartment...which, in turn, reminded her of her decision not to sleep with him. A waiter came and took their drink orders, leaving them with a menu. Braxton glanced through his. "Do you know what you want?" "I don't want to sleep with you tonight," she blurted out, unable to contain her firm decision a moment longer. Braxton's head came up. His surprised blue eyes landed on her, and he stared a moment before saying, "I don't...I don't think that was on the menu anyway." Lenna blushed. "I'm sorry. It's just that—oh, God." She lifted her hands and pressed them against her hot cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Braxton. I don't know what I'm doing. I 110


just...I've never went behind my dad's back like this before; it really bothers me." The concern on his face made her bite the inside of her lip. "I don't want to sleep with you tonight," she said. Braxton bobbed his head. "O-Okay," he said. "I mean—" He glanced around blindly for a second. "You know that's not why I brought you here, right? I don't expect you to fall into bed with me every time—I mean, sex isn't...sure, it's important but..." He floundered for a second before meeting her gaze. "I'm not sure what I'm trying to say," he confessed. "Well, I hope you're trying to say you're willing to take this as slowly as I need us to." "Of course I am," he agreed. He reached across the table for her hand. She willingly gave it to him. His warm fingers latched onto hers. "Lenna," he started. "I don't want to push you into anything. We can go at a turtle's pace if that's what you need. For now, I am more than satisfied just to be in your presence." Lenna's chest filled with glee. "Thank you," she told him. She pulled her hand away, ready to enjoy the rest of her evening. The relief that filled her was so tangible she could almost taste it...reminding her she was in the nicest restaurant in town. She flipped open her menu. "Ooo," she said in instant delight. "The ravioli looks good." She licked her lips and grinned at Braxton. He looked pained. "Not to be a guy or anything," he said, then winced as he spoke. "But, ah, this will eventually lead 111


to—" He broke off, his face filling with embarrassed color. "Well, you're not saying you never want sex. Are you?" Actually, yeah, she had been trying to say that, but something strange happened whenever she was in this man's presence. He must have a spell over her, because she was powerless against him. She couldn't stop looking at him, smiling at him, or deny him anything. "Yeah," she said. "I mean, no, that's not what I'm saying. I'm sure someday we can..." Her words trailed off as their drinks arrived. Braxton, however, didn't need her to continue. He'd already caught the gist of her answer. He looked relieved and grinned up at the waiter as if the man were his best friend. After that little discussion, dinner progressed nicely. Happy she'd gotten their sex talk out of the way and it hadn't ended in a fight or tense silence, Lenna relaxed. When their food arrived, she took a bite before grinning across the table at him. "How's work?" she asked. He lifted his eyes from his lasagna, looking startled. "Uh, it's fine." Then his gaze turned suspicious. "Why?" Lenna rolled her eyes. "I don't know. I was trying to make conversation." His shoulders relaxed. "Oh. Sorry." Pink tinged the tops of his cheeks, making him look adorable. He cleared his throat. "Work is good," he started again. "Actually, I'm thinking about expanding the enterprise." Her eyebrows lifted. "Really? How so?" His eyes brightened, making them bluer than she'd ever seen them before. She watched his face grow animated as he 112


spoke about turning Farris Industries into an international company, and the strangest thing happened to her. Here, she'd just told him she didn't want to sleep with him, and he'd agreed to keep his hands off her. But their agreement only seemed to make the temptation stronger. She wanted to touch, nibble, and lick. She kept remembering what he looked like with his shirt off. Little flashbacks of their night together in her apartment plagued her. She couldn't help but recall the silken, wet pleasure of his mouth on her flesh. It made her skin tingle in every little place he'd kissed her. Whenever he lifted his glass to take a drink, her eyes fell to his hand. She shivered, knowing exactly what those long, talented fingers could do. Lenna grew aroused just sitting across from him. As he turned the subject and asked about her job hunt, sounding interested and concerned about her having no prospects, she squirmed in her chair, wanting to climb across the table and into his lap to straddle his thighs. When they stood to leave, he set his palm on the small of her back to usher her out. His touch shot a zing straight to her loins. She couldn't meet his gaze as she walked stiffly along. She could barely breathe when they shut themselves alone inside his Land Rover. God, she just wanted to take him right there. And what was worse, he didn't seem afflicted by the same unsettling attraction. He put the automobile into drive and glanced over. "Want to go dancing or something?" he asked, like he was blissfully unaware how wild her hormones raged. 113


"No," she answered honestly. Lord, she couldn't dance with him. She couldn't get that close, with her body sliding against his and her hands on him—she shivered. Heck, no. Dancing was out of the question. "So you want me to take you home?" he guessed, sounding depressed about that possibility. Lenna's shoulders slumped. "No, not really," she admitted. But where could they possibly go? If they went to her small, cramped apartment, they'd end up in bed. Thinking his place had to be larger, she said, "Why don't you show me where you live?" Yeah, they would surely have enough space to remain a safe distance away from each other there. He swiveled his head to gape at her. "Um...yeah. Sure, we could do that." When they pulled to the curb in front of a fancy brownstone condo, Lenna leaned forward and looked out her window. "Wow, this is nice." Braxton was suspiciously quiet. He pocketed his keys and walked her to the entrance. Once he had the door open, he quickly reached around the corner to turn on a light. Then he stepped back to let her precede him inside. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Braxton followed her around the different rooms as she gave herself a tour. "Whoa," was all she could think say. His home was amazing. "It's...huge. And really clean" Braxton shrugged. "I use a cleaning service." Lenna nodded and continued strolling. When she entered a room that was obviously his bedroom, she jerked to a stop in 114


the doorway and backed out. Braxton sent her a small, knowing smile. Blushing, she hurried down the hall away from any glimpse of a bed. The last room they found themselves in was the kitchen. Yes, good. Kitchens were nice, non-sexual rooms. Lenna folded her hands at her waist and took in all the top-of-theline appliances. Wow. This was one fancy kitchen. Everything was made of chrome and so sleekly polished, she could see her reflection staring back at her a hundredfold. She wondered how much he actually cooked. Stopping in front of one rather large piece of equipment, Lenna cocked her head to the side and tried to figure out exactly what the stainless steel object was. It looked like a huge, overrated coffee machine. "Um..." she finally asked, glancing at Braxton, who leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and watched her with his hands still in his pockets. "What is this thing?" His cheeks brightened. Pushing off the doorway and edging closer, he examined the object as well. "It's, uh..." He paused and lifted his hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "It's a latte maker espresso machine," he finally answered. "Oh," Lenna said, feeling like an unrefined moron. Then she nodded. "Of course." Braxton continued to look uneasy. "So do you make lots of lattes?" she asked, eyeing the machine. He didn't look like an espresso enthusiast to her. She would've guessed him for a regular coffee drinker. Braxton flushed and finally grinned. "Never have," he admitted. 115


Lenna stopped looking at the latte maker espresso machine to turn toward him with an expression full of crinkled eyebrows and confusion. "So, then why do you have a latte maker?" Braxton's lips quivered as if he were trying to hold back a smile. "What?" he asked innocently. Then he caved. His shoulders slumped as he sent her a pleading look. "Okay, fine. I thought it looked cool." When her mouth fell open with incredulous disbelief, he argued, "Hey, isn't everyone allowed to have at least one basically worthless appliance in their kitchen?" Lenna threw her hands in the air as if calling defeat. "That's it," she announced. "We're making lattes." "Okay," he said. "Fine by me." But when she continued to stare at him, he frowned. "What?" "Well, I don't know how to use this thing," she said. He snorted. "And you think I do?" Lenna rolled her eyes as she sighed. "Where's the manual?" In return, she received a blank look. "Uh..." he sputtered, glancing around the kitchen as if he thought the instruction booklet would appear in thin air. She groaned, setting her hand against her forehead, "You threw it away, didn't you?" Once again, Braxton didn't have a ready answer. "I might not have," he said reasonably, opening drawers and peeking inside.

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Lenna joined the hunt and was the one who discovered the manual a few minutes later. "Voila!" she exclaimed, cheerfully holding it up. As she read through the instructions, she called out the different supplies they would need, directing Braxton to fetch them from his cabinets. "Okay," she announced, once they were ready to start their project. "First we need to pour the cold water into the water chamber." Braxton looked at the warm water he'd taken from the faucet. "Should I chill it in the freezer first?" he asked. Lenna laughed. He looked so boyishly sincere. "Just give it here," she said. He promptly handed over the measuring cup. "Alrighty then," she murmured, returning to the instructions. "Now...we place the coffee basket—" She paused to glance at the machine. "Where's the coffee basket?" "The coffee basket?" Braxton asked, raising his eyebrows. Then he lifted one finger. "You wait right here. I'll go ask Little Red Riding Hood if we could borrow her basket." Making like he was actually going to leave the room, Braxton started for the door. Lenna laughed and grabbed after him. She caught him by a belt loop and tugged him back. He turned toward her as she did so and gave her a devastating, yet ornery, grin that stopped her heart for a full second. Wanting to ignore the sexual pull, she quickly let go of him and turned away. Focusing on the machine, she said, "Here it is." 117


Keeping her back to him in the vain hope of ignoring how absolutely tantalizing he looked, she put a bigger effort into fixing their lattes. "So," she said, turning her attention back to the instructions. "Once the liquid starts to flow, it should have brown foam on top." "Brown foam?" Braxton repeated. "That doesn't sound healthy." Lenna threw back her head and laughed. Braxton came up behind her. "Why do you have to look so sexy doing that?" He set his hands on the counter, one on each side of her. Though he left her plenty of room to move and didn't lay a finger on her person, he successfully trapped her. His breath brushed her ear as he leaned forward and murmured, "Can I ask you something?" Finding it more and more difficult to concentrate on her latte making, she managed to nod. "Sure." "It's about this no-sex policy we started." Lenna dropped the measuring cup in her hand, dumping coffee grounds. As she rushed to catch the clattering plastic and spilled grounds, Braxton covered her fingers with his to stop her. "Because I was just wondering," he murmured, "is just sex prohibited or can we not fool around either?" Then, as if to answer his own question, he bit her earlobe and sucked it between his teeth, tickling it with his tongue.

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"Stop," Lenna said in a throaty voice, even as she moved her head to the side in order to give him better access. "You're making me forget what I'm doing." "I don't think I can stop." Another tug from his teeth caused her to gasp. "I've become quite attached to this ear." Lenna moaned and moved back against him when he slid a hand around her waist. "Okay, we can fool around," she told him in a high voice. His low chuckle had her loins tightening. Lenna placed one of her hands over his fingers at her waist. Guiding him, she started to rotate his palm around her stomach. He found his way under her shirt and caressed her warm abdomen, circling her belly button. Every once in a while, his fingertips dipped an inch into the waistband of her skirt. When Braxton licked under the ear he'd been nibbling on, Lenna shuddered. "You're going to make the other ear jealous," she purred, forgetting all about lattes and celibacy. "Well, now we can't have that," he answered and started to tease her other lobe. His fingers continued to toy with her middle. He wasn't moving them up toward her bra or down into her underwear, but he was staying chastely at her waist, driving her insane. Taking control of matters, Lenna sucked in her stomach, grabbed his wrist, and manually moved his hand south. "Oh, God, Lenna," he gasped when his fingers slipped inside her panties. "Are you sure?" She bit her lip and nodded. Braxton ditched her ear, resting his forehead on the back of her shoulder, and encountered pubic hair. Needing to grab onto something for 119


support, she bowed her head and latched both hands around the edge of the counter in front of her. "Don't stop," she told him. He let out a strangled laugh. "Wasn't planning on it." His fingers kept on their slow and steady path until he had one planted firmly in her warm center. Lenna rocked against him. She threw back her head and smiled when he groaned. "That feels...so good," she told him as he started to move his finger, stroking her, coming all the way out to slick moisture over the sensitive outer rim and then going back in for more. He repeated the move again and again with maddening slowness. Lenna's fingernails dug into the tiled countertop. "Don't stop...please. Braxton. Braxton!" He made an unintelligible sound and quickened the pace, then latched his mouth onto the back of her neck and cupped a breast with his free hand. Lenna bucked against him, and her body splintered. She cried out a choking scream, her hips jerking erratically. Braxton held on tight and rode her through the storm. By the time she released her hands from the countertop, she was surprised her fingers hadn't left grooves. She stared at the smudged fingerprints she had made, and laughed. Oh, wow. She felt good. She felt wonderful. Unable to contain her body's delight, she continued to laugh. "Oh, my God," she chuckled. "That was fabulous, Braxton..." 120


Behind her, he slowly removed his hand from her panties and took a step back. Lenna spun around, her face glowing, eyes bright. But her smile fell when she saw him physically shaking. His eyes were unfocused; a sheen of sweat matted his hair to his forehead. "Braxton?" she said, reaching for him. He caught her hand with both of his and squeezed her fingers as he looked down at her completely clothed body. "That," his voice wavered, "was the most erotic thing I have ever seen in my entire life." Sighing in relief, Lenna whispered his name and came toward him for a kiss. He caught her lips with his and latched on desperately. Taking her face in his hands, he gave her a mind-blowing kiss. Wanting to pleasure him as much as he'd pleasured her, she grasped the top button of his pants. Gasping, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her away. "Lenna." He pressed his forehead to hers and swallowed. "What about...what about the no-sex—" "It was the stupidest thing I ever thought up," she answered and pulled her hand free of his grip so she could take hold of his zipper's tab. "Okay," he panted. "Okay. In that case, hurry." She started to tug his pants down over his hips, but Braxton lost his patience and took over, whipping down his trousers and underwear together. Then he shed her of her panties. Lenna pulled her blouse off over her head while Braxton snagged her hips and lifted her to sit on the countertop. 121


He kissed her, making love to her mouth as he gathered her skirt up around her thighs. Then he put one hand on each of her knees and moved them apart. Stepping between them, he slid his mouth to her jaw and nipped her with his teeth. Lenna gripped his hair and gasped as he thrust inside her. She was already wet from her climax when Braxton pushed in with so much unexpected ease. He clenched his teeth and groaned. Throwing back his head, he moved, focusing on nothing but the pressure building in his dick. With every thrust, it doubled and intensified, but he clutched his control, wanting to prolong the pleasure. His body didn't hear that command. His hips picked up the pace, burying him deeper and quicker. This wasn't something he was prepared for. The release was like free falling out of an airplane. He needed some stability, some support to keep him from flying off into a million pieces. And so he gripped Lenna tightly, needing to brace against her for the most amazing event he'd ever experienced. She wrapped her arms tight around his neck like she might be suffering from the same affliction. Just thinking she could go off again, he groaned and his orgasm continued. Like a train wreck, it leveled him. They held each other until the currents ripping through them settled. Coming down off the biggest high of his life, Braxton's thighs trembled. Lenna let out a breath and leaned forward to rest her face on his shoulder. He kissed her hair, inhaling the 122


scent of her shampoo, and slid his hand over her bare shoulder. Raw and exposed, Braxton stood there, still rooted inside her. He tried to figure out what was going on. For some reason, he thought half of his soul had just been sliced out of him. And he had this sneaking suspicion that if he lifted his head and looked into Lenna's eyes he'd find the missing section. Needing to lighten the intense mood he'd fallen into, he glanced over and eyed the project they'd deserted. "I think...I think this calls for a latte," he announced. Lenna giggled. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Ten **** Lenna woke first the next morning. She came to with a smile on her face. Next to her, her lover was out like the dead, lying flat on his back with his arms flopped limply at his sides. She'd completely exhausted him last night. Grinning, she tucked her hand under her cheek and studied the peaceful expression on his face. She filled a full minute just watching the way his eyelashes rested against his cheekbones. Then her gaze moved on to other features. His mouth was slightly open, parted enough to get a sense of just how full and lush his lips were. She'd never thought pretty lips were attractive on a man before. But these lips looked good on this man. She caught a glimpse of his top teeth as he breathed. They looked white and perfect, especially with that small chip in one. Wanting to be closer to him, Lenna eased herself across the mattress. It didn't rouse him. Playful, she stretched out her foot and nudged his leg. Nothing. He was completely unconscious. Seeing how she could take advantage of the situation, Lenna wiggled herself closer until she'd pressed herself fully against his side. She rested her chin on his shoulder and watched his face as she rubbed her foot slowly over the hair on his leg. 124


Finally beginning to wake, Braxton mumbled something unintelligible. Other than that, he refused to stir. Wanting to tease him, Lenna dragged her fingernails down his chest even as her toes continued to caress his leg. He made another rumble but had yet to move. Her toes journeyed along his calf, over his ankle, and across the top of his foot. She traced the underside of his heel with her toenails. Without warning, he snapped his foot away. Caught off guard, Lenna's gaze flashed to his face. He'd opened his eyes to scowl at her. "That tickled." A devilish smiled lit her lips. "Oh, did it?" His frown turned warning. "Lenna." But she ignored the threat and taunted, "Just how ticklish are you?" Giving him no time to retreat, she attacked and went straight for his stomach, squirreling her fingers over his belly. Braxton shouted out his dislike and tried to twist out of reach. "This means war." He caught her around the waist only to howl when she tickled the back of his right knee. "But I'm not ticklish," she goaded, laughing as he desperately wriggled his fingers across her body. Then, just to amuse herself, she pinched the inside of his thigh. He hollered a curse and jerked out of her reach. Dear Lord, he was sensitive everywhere. Eyeing her warily from the other side of the mattress, he scowled. "This is so not fair. You've got to be ticklish somewhere?" 125


Lenna laughed in answer. "Want to bet?" Face filling with challenge, Braxton lunged at her. She screamed with delight, making a weak attempt to escape. He caught her wrists and bundled them together, holding her with one hand as he searched her body with his other. She grinned and hummed as he continued to hunt. When his hands moved over the inside of her thigh, she sucked in a breath and jerked. He lifted his eyes to hers, grinning in victory. But his smile fell when he saw the unfocused, impassioned glaze in her eyes. "That felt good," she cooed and arched her back, wanting more. In an instant, all thoughts of play fled Braxton's face. He stroked her thigh again, making her purr. "God, you are so beautiful," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her collarbone as he cupped the back of her leg and slid his thumb over the expanse of soft skin. "Every time I'm with you, I only want you more." He moved his kisses toward the middle of her chest until he got to the notch where her breastbone connected. He dipped his tongue into the hollow indentation. Lenna sifted her fingers through his hair. "I love the way you touch me." "I love touching you," he answered and licked her sternum. A roaring filled her ears until Braxton froze and lifted his face, frowning as he cocked his head toward the doorway. "Did you hear that?" 126


Lenna stiffened; every muscle in her body went rigid. "Hear what?" "It sounded like someone just opened and shut the front door." Eyes darting toward the bedroom entrance, Lenna held her breath. She immediately thought of her father. She could imagine Tom stalking through the doorway and rushing inside to murder them. When she actually heard footsteps, she jerked and yipped out a small scream. Oh, God. Her father had found out. Braxton sat up, frowning. "What the hell," he muttered and lifted the blankets like he was going to leap from the bed and go investigate. A woman appeared in the doorway. "Jesus!" Braxton yelped, dropping the sheets back over his waist and scrambling to cover himself. Lenna screamed again and clutched her half of the sheet, pulling it all the way to her chin. The woman was pretty and looked to be the same age as Lenna. Her shoulder-length hair was a dark brown, almost black, and her blue eyes were flaming mad. Her hands fisted at her sides as she glared at Braxton. "Braxton Michael Farris—" she growled. "Damn it, Savannah," he said, cutting her off. "Do you mind?" He motioned toward the bed, trying to alert her to the fact he wasn't dressed and had company. But the girl didn't seem to care. Her eyes only sparked hotter. "How many times," she bit out, "do I have to tell you... my name is Clara!" 127


Braxton closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. Lenna glanced at him and then returned her attention to his irate guest, utterly lost. What the hell was going on? She jumped and shrank closer to Braxton when she realized the girl was shooting daggers her way. The woman sniffed and wrinkled her nose. "Who is she?" "This is Lenna," Braxton announced calmly, though Lenna wasn't so sure she wanted his wacko-freak guest knowing her name. Clara—or Savannah, as Braxton had called her—turned her scowl back to him, immediately dismissing Lenna as she commanded, "Well, get rid of her. I need to talk to you." Braxton snorted. "I don't think so, Savannah. You need to turn your little butt around and get the hell out of my room. How'd you get in here, anyway?" Clara held up a key and smirked. He sputtered. "Where'd you get that?" "Under the welcome mat in front of your door," Clara hissed. Then she wound her arm back and threw the chunk of metal straight at his head. Lenna yelped. She and Braxton ducked together, and the key smacked against the wall above them. "Vannah," he bellowed. "That's enough." As if his shout flipped a switch, the girl changed. Her shoulders twitched, and she began to convulse. "Oh, hell," Braxton cursed, frantically looking around the room like he was searching for something to help the girl. But Clara was already starting to compose herself. She blinked repeatedly, her breathing shuddering back to normal. 128


She lifted her face and looked around as if she had no idea where she was. When her eyes latched onto Braxton, they widened. "Braxton?" she whispered. "Savannah?" he whispered back. In answer, her eyes filled with tears. She glanced at Lenna, who was openly gaping, and covered her mouth. "I... I... I'm so sorry," she told them, stumbling in reverse, before she turned and fled the room. "Vannah, no!" Braxton barked, almost charging after her, though he paused when he lifted the sheet and once again saw how naked he was. "Don't. Just, wait!" he called, but she'd already disappeared. Spitting out a stream of expletives, Braxton threw off the sheets and leapt from the bed, grabbing clothes as he went. Lenna's mouth dropped as she watched him jerk her panties off the floor and try to put them on before he realized they weren't his. "Where're my damn clothes?" he muttered, tossing her underwear onto the mattress in her direction and looking anxiously for his own. Lenna snatched her undies close as Braxton's eyes darted around the room. "Who was that?" she finally managed to ask. "My sister," he answered in a distracted tone as he yanked on a pair of pants. He glanced her way, and stumbled. "Lenna. Jesus. I am so sorry. My sister is—Shit. I need to catch her before she tries to leave." He started to run toward the door, absentmindedly motioning in Lenna's direction. As he fled, he called, "Just... wait right there." 129


But Lenna did no such thing. As soon as he was out of sight, she dressed in record time. She borrowed Braxton's comb and brushed her hair, shoving the teeth through her tangled locks so fast her eyes watered. Pulling the mass into a ponytail, she dashed from the master suite and found the Farris siblings in the living room. Stopping abruptly just outside the doorway, she peered cautiously inside. Braxton's sister sat in the middle of his sofa with her shoulders hunched over her body. She held her hands clasped tightly in her lap and pressed her knees snugly together. Braxton crouched in front of her and handed her a glass of water. His sister wiped at her watery eyes before accepting the cup. "Thank you," she mumbled and then drank deeply. When she finished, she handed it back. Braxton took the cup. Before straightening to his feet, he paused to eye her with concern. "Better?" His sister snorted out a derisive laugh and wiped at her eyes again. "I'm so sorry, Brax. I have no idea why I came—" "Hey," he said, interrupting her and running a loving hand over her hair. "Don't worry about it. It's okay." Clara or Savannah, or whoever she was, glanced at him and more tears filled her eyes. "I don't want to be this way anymore." Braxton's face contorted and he pulled her into a hard hug. "Savannah," he whispered against her hair. "I don't want to keep doing this to you, and Mom, and Dad, and—" "Shh," Braxton instructed harshly. "It's going to be okay." 130


When Savannah once again lifted her hand to wipe at her eyes, she spotted Lenna peeking into the room. "Oh," she said, surprised, and pulled away from her brother. "Hello. Have we met?" Braxton turned and popped to his feet when he saw Lenna. "Lenna," he said breathlessly. He glanced almost guiltily to the girl on the couch, who pushed to her feet. "Lenna," he repeated, more calmly. "This is my sister, Savannah. Van, this is Lenna." Lenna took a cautious step through the doorway as his seemingly calmed sister smiled at her. "Hello," the girl greeted. "It's nice to meet you." Unable to give the same answer, Lenna nodded and glanced quizzically toward Braxton. He fidgeted, stuffing his hand into his pocket only to yank it out again. When their gazes met, he opened his mouth. But no words came out. As if grasping his need for salvation, the phone rang. Braxton jerked about a foot off the ground and then rubbed at the back of his neck with a self-conscious laugh. "I'll get that," he said and hurried from the room, meeting Lenna's eyes once more as he rushed by. She wanted to grab him, to keep him from leaving her alone with his psycho sister. But she didn't. Instead, she turned warily toward Savannah Farris and gave the brunette a small smile. "I, uh," Savannah said. "I guess you're wondering what's going on, huh?" Lenna didn't answer. She glanced toward the doorway, praying Braxton would re-enter the room any moment now. 131


"I was in a bad wreck about nine months ago," Savannah said. Lenna whirled back to Braxton's sister. "O-oh. I... I'm sorry to hear that." She vaguely recalled her father mentioning that Spencer Farris's daughter had been in an automobile accident. If she remembered correctly, the girl had even been in a coma for a couple of months, too. "Anyway," Savannah went on. "I've been pretty messed up since then. Sometimes, I think I'm this person named Clara." She had to glance away when she added, "It's called dissociative identity disorder." Then she shrugged. "In other words, I have a split personality." Lenna's mouth dropped open. "Oh, God." Her face flamed when she realized what kind of appalled expression she must've made. "I mean, I... I'm so sorry. I didn't know." Savannah's grin was quick. "Not a lot of people do. To tell the truth, I really don't want it spread around. My family keeps it quiet for me." She glanced down at her hands. "So, uh, if I was rude to you earlier, I'm really sorry. I wasn't... well, I wasn't me." She lifted her eyes to Lenna, looking so miserable and apologetic, Lenna melted. "You weren't rude," she assured. "I wasn't?" Savannah asked in surprise. Her shoulders slumped. "It's just that when I'm Clara, I'm pretty bossy. At least, that's what they tell me. I don't actually remember..." Her words died off, and a haunted look entered her eyes. Lenna sympathized. She could only imagine how upsetting it'd be to forget half of the things she did. Life must be awful 132


for Braxton's sister. She wanted to say something to ease Savannah's misery. But Savannah beat her to the punch. Lifting her eyes, she pulled a smile to her lips. "So, how long have you and Brax been—" "That was Dad," Braxton interrupted, hurrying into the room. His eyes darted to Lenna before they settled on Savannah. "He and Mom have been looking everywhere for you. They're just a couple of blocks away and will be here in a minute." "Oh, no," Savannah gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. "Were they very worried?" Braxton shrugged but couldn't quite meet her eyes as he answered, "They're okay." He paused, clearly clueless what to say next. His eyes strayed toward Lenna; they begged her forgiveness and understanding. "I told Lenna the truth," Savannah said. Whirling to face her, Braxton gaped. "You did?" When Savannah nodded, his face tightened. He cleared the expression off his features and managed a heart-rending smile. "Thank you." "She said I wasn't rude to her, but I don't think I believe her." Braxton grinned. "Nah, you were too busy being rude to me." Savannah rolled her eyes. "I don't have to be Clara to be rude to you." Their teasing worked to lighten the mood. Braxton glanced toward Lenna. They shared a smile—his filled with relief; hers 133


as supportive as she could make it. She wanted to go to him and just hold him. "So, what did I do?" Savannah asked, interrupting Lenna and Braxton's silent connection. "How did I end up here?" Braxton glanced at his sister. "I don't know. You said you needed to talk to me, and then you turned back into yourself." "Hmm." Savannah sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. "I wonder what I wanted to tell you." Before anyone could guess the answer, the front door burst open and two people spilled inside. One of them was Spencer Farris. Lenna's eyes widened; she took a step in reverse. "Savannah!" cried the woman rushing in after Mr. Farris. She ran straight to Braxton's sister and pulled her into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, Mom," Savannah said as she rested her head on Mrs. Farris's shoulder. "Shh," Mrs. Farris instructed and rocked her daughter back and forth. "Everything's fine now. Everything's going to be okay." Mr. Farris paused next to Braxton and glanced at his son, worry evident from every tense muscle on his face. "You okay?" he murmured. Braxton jammed his hands into his pockets and nodded. "Yeah," he answered, watching his mother and sister hug. Nodding, Spencer went toward the women. "Hey, now," he warned as he neared them. "Don't go getting all mushy. You'll 134


make Vannah start crying, and it looks like she just got over a spell." As Mr. and Mrs. Farris coddled their daughter, Braxton moved next to Lenna. She glanced at him. His eyes looked concerned, as if he could read her thoughts. When he took her hand, she eagerly latched onto his supportive fingers. "Okay, you've had enough time with her. It's my turn for a hug," Spencer said. His wife rolled her eyes, but let go of Savannah and stepped away. She turned toward Braxton and murmured his name. "Thank you," she mouthed and drew close to hug him. When she pulled back, she finally noticed Lenna. "Oh. Oh, my. We're interrupting." Lenna started to shake her head, but Braxton's mother stuck out her hand. "Hello, there. I'm Raven." Lenna swallowed, but took her hand. "Mom," Braxton said, sticking protectively close to Lenna. "This is Lenna. Lenna, this is... my family. All we're missing is my brother, Ty." Lenna smiled at his mother once again before glancing toward her father's old boss. She sweated, just knowing he was going to recognize her from back when he used to let her sit at his desk years ago and play office. He'd always sneak her a couple of quarters to go down the hall and buy a snack from the vending machines, too. But Spencer Farris barely glanced her way. "It's nice to meet you," he murmured and sent her a kind smile. He was 135


too preoccupied with his daughter to give her much notice, though. Thank God. "Well, we'll leave you two alone," Raven Farris announced and promptly ushered Savannah and Spencer toward the exit. Throwing a knowing look at Lenna's wrinkled blouse and skirt, she added, "I'm sure we've already ruined enough of your morning." Braxton followed his family to the exit. He smiled and shook his head as they walked out, discussing who was going to drive what automobile home. When he shut the door, he kept his hand on the knob for about ten seconds. Finally, he turned and met Lenna's gaze. For some reason, she knew he needed her. A strange, needy look marred his face, like he was completely lost. She stepped forward to go to him. But as soon as she moved, he shocked the snot out of her by bursting into tears. "Braxton," she gasped and ran the last few steps, wrapping him in her arms. He clutched at her hair and buried his face against her neck, sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm s-sorry." He trembled as he blubbered. "I can't... I can't—" "Then don't," she instructed softly and rocked him soothingly, much the same way she'd just watched his mother cradle his sister. She ran her hand over his hair and held him as he wept. [Back to Table of Contents]

136


Chapter Eleven **** As Braxton calmed, he realized two things. He'd bawled like a baby all over Lenna. And she'd met his family. At some point, she led him to the couch and had him lay his head on her lap where she stroked his hair and let him grieve to his heart's content. But when the realization of what had happened struck him, he sat up. "Oh, God," he said. "My parents. They just saw you—" "It's okay," she reassured, smiling gently as she smoothed his plastered hair off his forehead. "Your dad didn't recognize me. I think I was ten or eleven the last time I stopped going to work with Dad because my brother and sister started begging to come too. So..." "He was probably too worried about Savannah to recognize your name either," Braxton agreed. He squeezed her fingers. "Don't worry. If any of them ask about you, I'll tell them you're one of Greg's exes." When Lenna cocked her head, confused, he smiled. "My friend is always breaking up with these women, and they keep coming to me as if I can explain what they did wrong to make him not want them anymore." He shrugged. "It's a pretty common occurrence, and my family knows all about it. I'm sure I can get them to buy that story if they grown suspicious." 137


But Lenna didn't look so certain. "Your sister saw me in your bed." Braxton's face fell. "Don't worry about that. She won't even remember it." That fact defeated him. Sensing his pain, Lenna touched his face. He closed his eyes and sank closer. "I'm sorry about what happened to her," she murmured and hugged him. He couldn't speak for a minute. Then he said, "I feel so powerless around her. I know she can't help what's happening, but I get so frustrated. I can't stand her alter ego and only snap when she's Clara. Then she turns back in Vannah, and I feel guilty for losing my patience. What's worse, when other people find out what's wrong, they look at her like she's some kind of freak. I want to protect her, but I don't know how." He glanced warily at Lenna. "She's not violent, you know. Throwing those keys at us, that's as mad as I've ever seen her. She's not... She's not crazy." Lenna nodded like she understood. But he knew she didn't. She couldn't. He didn't even understand it himself. "People with dissociative identity disorder get such a bad rap," he muttered. "After all those thriller/slasher movies about split personalities, they think she must be part serial killer or something. But she's not. She'd never intentionally hurt a fly." Nodding again, Lenna smoothed her fingers over his hair again. "From reading Sybil in school, I always thought people grew a split personality from having a really bad childhood." 138


"Yeah, that's typically the case," Braxton admitted. He'd learned more about the subject in the past nine months than he'd ever wanted to. "But really, no one knows the actual cause. Any kind of devastating stress can start it." "And yet she got it from a physical injury," Lenna murmured, her eyebrows puckering thoughtfully. "Was it blunt trauma to the head?" Braxton lifted his face and sent her a guilty look. "Not exactly." He winced. "I mean, I'm sure it didn't help, but..." When he received a confused scowl for his confession, he sighed and closed his eyes. "Vannah didn't fall into a coma immediately upon impact." Lenna frowned. "Then—" "The wreck was her fault," he said. "She was talking on her cell phone and ran a red light. Five cars were involved. Four people needed hospitalization and three died. One guy needed both his legs amputated. He'll never walk again." Lenna gasped and covered her mouth with both hands. Braxton nodded. "She says she doesn't remember the accident, and no one's told her how it started. But she has to know. Somewhere in there, she knows. Neither of her identities will touch a cell phone." "Poor Vannah," Lenna murmured. "Everyone at the scene said she was conscious and alert after the wreck. They knew she'd hurt her head. It was bleeding. But she talked and walked around like she was fine. She even helped pull a few injured people from their cars. As soon as the ambulances and police arrived, she collapsed. She didn't wake up again for three weeks." 139


Squeezing Lenna's hand, he said, "I don't think she could take the guilt of what she'd done. Her brain just shut down; it refused to open again until she'd reinvented herself as someone else." Lenna looked pale and shaken as she once again reached for him. "Wow. But I don't blame her. I'd probably flip out too if I knew I was responsible for so much death and destruction." Braxton nodded. He buried his face against her neck. Letting out a soft laugh, he added, "I always thought she was a brat. A big pain in the butt. But you have no idea what I'd give right now to have the old Savannah back." Lenna's arms tightened. "Every time I see her," he choked out, "I just... I don't know. I fall to pieces. It's so hard. She isn't the girl I grew up with. The sister I knew died in that accident." Managing to keep the tears at bay this time, he wiped at his face. But, damn it, how embarrassing to lose it in front of Lenna. "I don't know how my parents do it every day. They refuse to send her to an institution. They think they can help her, like they can eventually draw out the old Savannah. But, I don't know. I can tell it's starting to wear on them." He clenched his teeth, trying to hold himself stiff. Then he looked at Lenna. "I'm sorry," he said. "I am so sorry to unload on you like this. I—" But she covered his mouth with her fingers. "Shh," she said. "Anytime." 140


Braxton took her invitation to heart. Anytime. For the rest of his life, he wanted to be able to turn to her any time and find her by his side. He wanted to spend all of his days with this woman. Smiling, he leaned in to kiss her. When she purred, he set his hand on her thigh. She still wore the same short, sexy skirt from the night before. Just seeing it and remembering what was under there had him going hard. "Lenna," he murmured, his voice husky and full of heat. She moaned and clasped his head in her hands. Taking that as invitation enough, he slid his fingers up. When he encountered her panties, he removed them. "How do you always make me want you?" she asked, her voice full of wonder. Braxton couldn't answer. It amazed him too. She grasped the zipper on his jeans, and he grabbed her hips, lifted her onto his lap. "Ride me." A slight smile lit her lips as she opened his jeans and pulled him into her hand. "My, aren't we bossy all of the sudden." Braxton threw back his head and groaned when she stroked him. "Now," he said hoarsely. She laughed. He knew it wasn't the 'please' she'd been expecting, but at the moment, she didn't seem to care. She rose and then came down over him, sheathing him snugly. They each sucked in a surprised breath. She was tight, so tight his vision went blurry. But, God, she was as wet as a 141


mouth. No foreplay, and he'd entered her without a bit of trouble. "Oh, oh!" she gasped and lifted again, clenching around him as she glided out, almost to the point of pulling all the way off. Then she came back down in a rush, making them both cry out. Braxton reached blindly and fisted his hands in her hair. "Lenna," he gasped. "Damn. Where'd you learn to do that?" She shook her head, looking dazed. "I don't... I have no idea. I've never been on top before." "You've never—" He gaped at her. "Jesus, what have you done before?" He hadn't realized she was so inexperienced until this moment. But he didn't mind. She was a fast learner. When she slid up and then came down hard and fast, he clenched his teeth. The woman was trying to kill him. He was absolutely dying here, a slow, frustrating, amazing death. All he wanted was speed and she was going slower than ketchup. He wanted that fast, sweaty slap of bodies and she was... "Oh, holy hell," he groaned, gripping her even tighter. This had to be the worst kind of torture ever. "This is fun," Lenna said, making him jerk his eyes to hers in disbelief. She actually liked driving him out of his mind? But, no. When Braxton took in the features of her face, she looked too blissfully content to have any intentions of torment. 142


"I think I like being in charge," she added, grinning as she continued with her slow, agonizing plunges. Braxton wanted to tell her to pick it up. He wanted to grab her hips and take over. But he couldn't nab the control from her. She looked too good, too satisfied, with the reins in her hands. He let out an ironic laugh, thinking it funny he was so happy about suffering. And then it happened. One second he was chuckling, the next an orgasm grabbed him by the balls and wrenched a choked cry from his lungs without warning. Completely blindsided, he hadn't seen it coming, but there it was. Before he knew it, he was clutching Lenna's waist and grinding her against him, losing himself inside her. Gritting out a string of curses, he emptied himself. As the last swell shuddered through him, his muscles relaxed, and he sank onto the cushions of the couch. When he opened his eyes, he saw Lenna above him, staring at him with a startled expression. His mouth opened. "Sorry," he said instantly. He reached for her face. "Oh, God, Lenna. I'm so sorry. I didn't know I was so close. I didn't mean to lose it like that. I just—" She set a finger over his mouth to hush him, her eyes twinkling in delight. "I like making you lose it." She shivered. "It makes me feel... potent." Potent was a good word. Still... he swallowed, guilty he'd had all the glory. "Let me finish you," he pleaded and started to lift her off him, anxious to give his tongue a workout. 143


But she clamped her thighs around him and resisted. "No. Please. Will you stay inside me, just a little longer?" She could've asked for the moon, and he would've found a way to get it for her. Letting go of her waist, he drew her shirt over her head so he could see her completely. While Lenna started to move on him again, Braxton undid her bra and tugged a breast into his mouth. She sucked in a breath, so he moved to the other nipple. "Braxton?" Her voice sounded cautious, so he lifted his head. "What's wrong?" "Nothing. But... aren't you supposed to, you know, get softer after you're done? Not harder." He looked down and watched the way he disappeared inside her with every pump of her thighs. It had him swelling even more. "Yeah," he answered. "Guess I'm not done yet, huh?" He swallowed and ran his hands up her sides, trying not to think about how he wanted her to hurry yet again. Lenna's lips were dewy, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes glazed. "Is this even possible?" she asked, moving a little faster now. "It's happening," was the only answer he could give. And, boy, was it happening. He closed his eyes so he couldn't see how glorious she looked. He couldn't go off before she did. Not again. He grabbed a hold of the couch cushions and tried not to think about that sexy little catch in her breathing. 144


But if she didn't get her cute butt into gear... "Lenna," he gasped. "Damn it. Faster." Finally, the woman had mercy on him. This time, when he came, she was right there with him. [Back to Table of Contents]

145


Chapter Twelve **** Well, he'd done it now. Braxton stared around the meeting room at the shocked expressions on his employees' faces. "I know Farris usually deals with aftermarket equipment," he'd started the meeting a few minutes earlier. "But recently, we've coaxed a few domestic companies like GM and Chrysler to put Farris parts on stock for a few of their luxury models. And, as I'm sure most of you've heard around the gossip bin, I've been considering going international with that endeavor." Everyone discreetly lowered their eyes. "I've been researching international trade, the price of shipping, and permits, and so forth. And I think—if everyone at Farris exerts the effort—we can make this work. I know you're all able. I've seen you in action. I'm well aware of your potential." Letting out a small puff of air, Braxton smiled. "That's why I wrote a contract for Renault, in France, and will be going to Paris next weekend to attend a seminar and arrange a meeting with a representative from that company. We're going international, folks." The silence that followed about made him pass out. They were going to kill him. His employees were going to string him up by his toes and give him Chinese water torture. He knew this was a risky venture. The price of taxes alone could 146


sink them if his idea fell through. But Braxton was honestly confident it wouldn't. Obviously, his staff didn't agree. They stared at him as if the news were coming as a complete surprise, which made no sense at all. Tom had already unwittingly warned him everyone suspected the possibility. Charlie Fairbanks pushed to his feet. Braxton met his gaze and waited for the man to go off, calling him every name in the book for putting their jobs in peril. But then Fairbanks shocked the shit out of him when he grinned and clapped. Others followed. In seconds, everyone was on their feet, applauding the news. His secretary even whistled and sent him the thumbs up. Not sure how to respond, Braxton's mouth fell open. Oh God, they actually liked his idea. He couldn't believe it. Clamping his lips back together, he smiled and nodded professionally, though inside he was jumping backflips. "Okay," he called, unable to control his beaming expression. "Okay. Thank you. Thank you. Now, quit standing around here, clapping, and get back to work. We're going to have a lot to discuss once I get back from France." His cheerfully-given demand was followed by a room full of laughter. As they began to file out of the conference room, numerous employees stopped to slap Braxton on the back and tell him he was doing the right thing. He couldn't believe how supportive everyone acted. It was too good to be true. Tom Davenport, however, lingered at the rear. 147


Smile faltering, Braxton glanced away for a moment and waited for Tom to reveal his true thoughts about the company's new plan of action. In the past month he'd been seeing Lenna, Braxton had become proficient at meeting Tom's gaze without flinching. He could even converse with Lenna's dad without wondering if Davenport could see inside his head and know what he'd been doing with the man's little girl. Braxton had been bending over backwards to please Tom. Other employees had noticed, realizing if they needed a favor from Braxton, they could go to Tom first and have him approach the boss boy to get it. But Tom hadn't softened toward Braxton. He'd stopped the outright obstinacy, sure, but he remained annoyingly gruff. Meeting Davenport's gaze head on, Braxton frowned when Tom pulled cash from his pocket. "Ah..." Tom started, making Braxton even more perplexed when the older man blushed. "I was wondering, since you're going to be in Paris anyway, you know, for business." He faltered. "Well, it's just that my daughter, Lenna, has always been fascinated with stuff from France. She took French classes all the way through high school and into college. I just thought..." He stalled, kicking his foot at the carpet. "I thought it would be nice if you could, you know, find something for me while you're there. Nothing big. Just..." He shrugged. Braxton nodded, already reaching out for the money. "Sure," he said. "I can get you a memento for her. No problem." 148


But as he took the bills, Braxton's mind was already buzzing. So, Lenna was fascinated with France, huh? Well now, he might have to do something about that. He spent the rest of his afternoon planning. As soon as he stepped from the Farris building after work that evening, he slid open his phone and dialed Lenna's number. She wasn't scheduled to go into work for another hour, so he knew he had plenty of persuasion time. She answered his call on the second ring. "Hey, beautiful." Braxton's voice was friendly, and yet it held a steamy tone that caused Lenna to shiver in delight. "Hey, yourself," she returned, grinning. She wasn't sure how, but just hearing his voice made her glow. But he didn't say anything for a moment, and her brow wrinkled. "Braxton?" "Yeah?" She laughed. "Was there, ah, something you wanted? Or did you just call to say hey?" "Oh. Sorry. I..." She could hear him blow out a breath. "Yes, I called for a reason. I was just..." He fell quiet again. "Something wrong?" Her mind automatically went to her father. Had he found out about them? "No. Nothing's wrong. I just... I wanted to ask you something." She rolled her eyes. "Then ask." It was cute, yet exasperating, when he turned bashful like this. He chuckled. "Okay, then. I wanted to know if you'd go somewhere with me." 149


Now if that didn't sound outright secretive, she didn't know what would. Growing suspicious, Lenna squinted her eyes. "Go where?" Instead of answering, Braxton added, "Just for a couple of days." Lenna paused. Ooh... How romantic. He wanted to take her on a fantasy vacation. She grinned, picturing a weekend getaway at a remote cabin in the mountains away from the rest of civilization, where they'd spend the entire trip in bed, curled around each other and sipping wine. "Go where?" she asked again, getting excited. He didn't speak immediately, and when he finally did, he was completely evasive. "It's a surprise." "A surprise," she repeated. She must've sounded leery because he quickly replied, "Trust me. I know you'll love it." "Well..." Hmm. Her curiosity kicked into high gear. "When do you want to go? Or am I not allowed to know that either?" She could practically hear him wince. "That's the bad part. Umm, we'd have to leave Thursday afternoon and we wouldn't return until Sunday. So, I'm sure you'd have to take off work a couple of days if you went, but if you don't want—" "Have to leave," Lenna said, interrupting him. "Why would we have to leave then?" "Well, uh, funny thing, that," Braxton answered. "I, uh, I kind of already booked the reservations." "You what?" "Please don't take that to imply you're duty-bound to go or anything. I mean, everything's completely refundable; you 150


can back out at any time. I'm sorry, I just kind of lost my head for a second there and made these spur of the moment plans. By the time I'd already... well, by then it was, like, 'Oh hell, maybe I should've asked her first, huh?' But you're not obligated at all. It's not that important. I'll be going for business anyway. So, if you can't get off work, or... or even if you don't want to go—" "Actually, it sounds like fun," Lenna cut in. Braxton drew in a breath and then, in a stunned voice, said, "Really?" She rolled her eyes again, grinning the entire time. He could be the sweetest man when he was in shy-and-insecure mode. "Sure," she told him. "I've worked for some people in the past, and they owe me one, so I'm positive I can get someone to take my place at the Lounge. I love the idea of going to some surprise, mystery place with you. Besides, I'm sure I can coax the secret out of you before we leave." Braxton sounded more like his confident self when he answered, "Oh, we'll just see about that." [Back to Table of Contents]

151


Chapter Thirteen **** As Thursday approached, Lenna grew increasingly energized about her mystery weekend with Braxton. He called at least once a day to make sure she hadn't backed out of their plans. Then he threw in a tidbit of advice on what to pack, which only added more intrigue. By Thursday, she concluded they were not headed toward a remote cabin in the mountains. Braxton had instructed her to pack at least one formal dress, leading her to believe they'd be going out into public and somewhere fancy at that. But on his next call, he recommended she bring along a pair of comfortable walking shoes. Trying to get a bead on their destination, she asked if she should pack for a warm or cool climate. Maybe they were going to Florida. But Braxton had been clueless as to what the weather would be like there, so he told her to prepare for both extremes of weather. By the time Braxton arrived to pick her up Thursday afternoon, she still didn't have a clue as to their destination. When he drove them into the airport, she was even more perplexed. She sent him a confused smile. "We're not driving?" "Nope," was his smug answer. Then he froze. "Oh, God. You're not afraid of flying, are you?" 152


Lenna flashed her dimple. "I love flying." She was tempted to tease him and tell him she was terrified. But at the moment, she couldn't lie; she was too energized. They were flying! "So, where're we headed?" she asked calmly. Braxton shook his head. "Oh, come on. We're at the airport. It's not like I'm going to find out in a couple of minutes anyway. I mean, I'll need a ticket to board the plane and that will definitively name where—" "You won't be getting a ticket," Braxton said, cutting her off smoothly. He sent her a cocky grin and added, "We're taking the Farris company jet." Lenna's mouth dropped open. "A private jet?" Holy cow. She had no idea where she was going, but she was definitely going to get there in style. Braxton pulled up to the main front door and found an attendant to load their luggage onto a cart. As he stood by, overseeing the ordeal, Lenna sidled next to him and crossed her arms. "We'll it's not like we're leaving the country. I mean, I'd need my passport if we were exiting the states." Then she paused with a thoughtful frown. "Wouldn't I?" Braxton flashed her another smirk, lifting one eyebrow. "And you think it would be impossible for me to sneak your passport out of your top desk drawer in your apartment, huh?" "Oh my God," she gasped. "We're leaving the country?"

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Smile growing even wider, Braxton shrugged. "I didn't say that." He took her hand to kiss her knuckles. At Lenna's frown, he laughed. "This is just killing you, isn't it?" "Yes," she complained. "Why can't you tell me—" "And spoil the surprise?" he asked in a scandalized whispered. "I think not." Nicer than Lenna had even begun to imagine, the Farris company jet put her dinky studio apartment to shame. "Oh, my God," she said, turning in a circle to gape openedmouthed at the bedroom—yes, there was a bedroom right there in the plane. "Can I live here?" Behind her, Braxton chuckled. He slipped his arm around her waist before he playfully tossed her onto the bed. Grinning, Lenna bounced once and then rolled onto her back, spreading out her arms; silk satin greeted her skin. Lord, even the king-sized bed was nicer than any she'd ever been on before. Unable to hide her enthusiasm, she grinned up at Braxton. He stared back with a gleam in his eye. Lenna's smile faded. Had she ever met anyone as wonderful as Braxton Farris in her entire life? He set a knee on the bed, slowly joining her. Lenna's stomach dropped. This was crazy. It was completely insane. All he had to do was look at her, and she went wet and tingly, wanting him to touch and lick every inch of her. His other knee hit the mattress, and he crawled over her, never once taking his eyes off hers. His smile turned predatory. "Want to join the mile high club?" he asked. 154


Lenna couldn't help it; she threw back her head and laughed. She was just so... happy. Braxton kissed her throat as if he were trying to consume the joyous sound by sucking it straight from her voice box. He must have succeeded because her giggle broke off, and a hoarse moan erupted from her lungs. "Braxton," she managed to rasp as she laced her fingers through his hair. He lifted his face from her throat and met her eyes. Man, how those blue eyes affected her. "I want you," he told her in his own slightly choked voice. "But we're still on the ground," she said. "What about the mile high—" "I can't wait." He kissed her, feasting on her mouth. Lenna closed her eyes and sank into the kiss, wrapping both arms and legs around him. He had such artful hands. They created magic wherever they touched. His voice was low and seductive as he murmured sweet nothings, telling her how soft she felt, how delicious she smelled. When she was with Braxton, she forgot about everything but him. He stripped her shirt off; his soon followed, landing across the room in a heap on the plush carpet. Dipping his head, he kissed his way down her throat until he hovered over her breasts. His tongue teased the top edge of her bra, and she arched, needing more. "Braxton," she gasped. "Hmm?" was his evasive answer. His teeth nipped at her bra, tugging the cup down until he exposed— "Mr. Farris?" 155


Lenna screamed as the deep voice that spoke above them. Braxton's head shot up as he slapped a hand over her mouth, though she'd already stopped yelping by that point. Their wide eyes met before Braxton lifted his face toward a speaker box in the corner of the ceiling. Fumbling, he leaned across her toward the nightstand and pushed a button. "Yes?" "Good afternoon, sir," the voice from the speakers answered. "This is Captain Wesley. I just wanted to welcome you aboard and let you know we'll be taking off now." "Thank you," Braxton answered, glancing down at Lenna as he spoke. Realizing he still had his hand over her mouth, he eased if off. "If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to call," Captain Wesley informed them. "Thanks," Braxton repeated. "Will do." "Have a pleasant flight, sir," the captain added and then signed off. Braxton and Lenna stared at each other for a moment. Then they broke into simultaneous bouts of laughter. Lenna buried her face in his shoulder and couldn't stop shaking; tears of mirth filled her eyes. "He scared the crap out of me," Braxton managed to say between chuckles as he sat back on his haunches and held his stomach. "You?" Lenna sputtered. She sat up as well and wiped her eyes. "I just about peed my pants. It sounded like the guy was right here in the room with us." 156


Around them, the walls hummed and vibrated as the engines started. Braxton tucked a piece of hair behind Lenna's ear. Lenna met his eyes and realized he'd grown serious. "I'm sorry," he said. Lenna shifted slightly as the plane began to move— probably rolling down the runway—and touched his face. "Why?" "I thought everything would be more romantic than this." Glancing about the room, Lenna took in the fanciest arrangement she'd ever seen: wood-paneled walls, velvetplush carpet, top of the line decor. There were even roses in a vase on top of the dresser. She turned back to Braxton. "Are you kidding me? I'm in a private jet, getting ready to go on a mysterious weekend getaway with a devastatingly handsome man. God, Braxton, I can't stop smiling because I'm having the time of my life. Trust me, it doesn't get any more romantic than this." He smiled softly. "I want it to be perfect for you." "It is," she assured him, then grinned and pushed him back onto the mattress. As she crawled over him and straddled his hips, she gazed into his solemn eyes. "You know, I always thought if I were to ever join the mile high club, it'd be in a cramped third-class bathroom with some impatient passenger needing to pee pounding on the door." She leaned down and nipped at his lips, then teasingly pulled away before giving him a full kiss. But Braxton caught her face and tugged her back. 157


"You're amazing," he whispered and crushed his mouth to hers. Braxton couldn't say how long the flight lasted. He was too wrapped up in Lenna to notice. They never left the bed. Well, he did once to fetch them a snack of cheese and crackers and a bottle of wine. Then there were a few bathroom trips, but they always seemed to find their way back to the silk sheets. The captain came onto the speaker yet again before they landed, to inform them they were thirty minutes from their destination. As they dressed, Braxton cleared his throat and glanced toward Lenna. She sat at a vanity, staring at her reflection as she brushed her hair. He had never seen a more beautiful sight. He sat on the edge of the bed behind her so he could see both her elegant back and the reflection of her face in the mirror. Double perfection. "Your father's mentioned you took a few French classes in school," he said. Lenna paused in her brush strokes and met his gaze in the mirror. She was never comfortable when Tom's name came up. Braxton wondered if he should've even said the words, "your father." He didn't want anything to ruin the next few days. But Lenna merely sent him a curious look. "That's right. It was my minor." He straightened. "Really? So, you're pretty fluent then?" "I'm decent." She shrugged. "I'm better at French than I am Spanish." "You know Spanish too?" Braxton's mouth fell open. 158


"Some. I'm trying to learn a little Italian too." She blushed. "I actually wanted to be a linguist once. But it took so much work to learn French that..." She let her words die off, not finishing the response. "You decided public relations was more the thing for you," Braxton completed the sentence for her. "I don't know." Lenna's smile fell. She set the brush down and turned to face him. "I really have no idea what I want to do. It's just that... the spoken word is so fascinating to me. I love learning about the history of each language, how it was formed, and how it differs from the others. I love trying to figure out how to say something another way. It's like a puzzle." "Sounds like you should be a translator," Braxton said, feeling as if he were meeting her for the first time. But, man, he loved discovering new things about this woman. Lenna, however, didn't look so thrilled. "No, the only language I'm passable at speaking is French, and I'm probably not translator quality at that. I mean, I could get through a conversation with a Frenchman, no problem, but there's still so much I don't know." She sighed. "Sure, I'd love to do something like that. But a translator? I just don't think I could." Then she groaned and closed her eyes. "I don't know." Braxton reached for her. "You'll figure it out. And I know whatever you do, you'll be good at it." Lenna opened her eyes and looked at his outstretched palm. When she took his fingers, he experienced a connection 159


he'd never known existed in the world. He was almost overwhelmed by the power of it. Not wanting to delve too much deeper into emotional territory, he cleared his throat and said, "Are you ready? I think we're landing." "Oh!" Her eyes flew wide, and she popped to her feet. "I need to put my shoes on." Braxton helped her, slipping on one sneaker as she pulled on the other. She grinned at him. "Thanks." He took her hand and helped her to her feet. After pressing a quick kiss to her nose, he walked her to the main seating area. Twenty minutes passed before the aircraft came to a complete stop. As soon as a crew member opened the hatch, Lenna hurried forward. Entertained by her excitement, Braxton laughed and followed. When she reached the doorway, she fell to a halt and stared out. Lips parting, she pressed a hand to her chest. "Well, it's definitely a different country," she said. "But..." Turning to Braxton, her eyes filled with question. "Where...?" He stepped next to her and held out a hand for her to precede him. "Welcome to Paris, cheri." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Fourteen **** Lenna couldn't wrap her mind around the concept. She was in Paris. Paris, France! She was sitting in the back of a stretch limousine, riding through the streets of Paris, France. Completely ignoring Braxton beside her, Lenna pressed her nose to the window and gawked. It was beyond amazing. The fact that it was night and she couldn't make out anything they passed but flashes of light didn't even bother her. At the moment, all that mattered was she was in Paris! "Hey. There's the Eiffel tower!" Braxton said. Lenna turned, surprised to discover he was pressing his nose to the opposite window. He glanced over his shoulder at her and grinned as he motioned out his side. Quickly scooting toward him, Lenna peered out and sucked in a breath. Yes, there it was, outlined with millions of tiny lights... the one and only Eiffel Tower. She could see its magnificent steeple rising over land and building. "Oh," she whispered. "I know," Braxton murmured. Lenna turned and realized she'd been sitting cheek to cheek with him as they both gaped like children at a candy store. "Haven't you ever been to Paris before?" she asked. For an answer, he gave her an odd look. "No." 161


Shrugging, Lenna grabbed his hand, squeezed, and went back to peering out the glass. She'd taken him for the rich kid type that spent summer breaks traveling Europe and the like. But she rather liked the fact they were both experiencing Paris for the first time together. It made the moment all that more special. When the limo finally stopped in front of a huge, brightlylit building, Lenna's jaw dropped. "Is this our hotel?" "This is our hotel," Braxton confirmed. He hopped out of the car as soon as their chauffeur opened the door so he could assist her out. Lenna grinned at his waiting hand and took his fingers. As soon as she was on her feet, she tipped her head back and gawped at their accommodations. The building was long, stretching further than a normal American city block. It was five stories high with a huge clock above the entrance, looming a good story tall by itself. The arched entry under it had to rise at least two and half stories. As Braxton started toward the arch, Lenna swallowed and hurried into step behind him. An attendant opened the door for them, and Lenna smiled at him, murmuring, "Merci," as she passed. Oh, wow. She'd just spoken French. She was going to get to use her French! Hurrying her pace, Lenna moved closer to Braxton's side and tightened her grip on his hand. He glanced at her and winked. "This is, like, a five star hotel, isn't it?" she had to ask. 162


"No, of course not." Braxton eyes glittered with a devilish gleam. "It's only four." Trying to imitate his air of unconcern, Lenna tossed her hair over her shoulder, though inside, she had to swallow back a squeal of excitement. "Only four, hmm. Well, goodness, Braxton. What's wrong with you? Couldn't you get reservations at a five star?" Braxton shook his head and muttered, "Smart ass." They walked to the concierge desk and Braxton sent the man waiting there a polite nod. "Hello. Do you speak English?" The concierge answered, "But of course, Monsieur." "Good. I have reservations for Farris. Braxton Farris." "One moment." The gentleman turned his attention to a computer screen next to him. Lenna nudged Braxton in the elbow. "Don't you speak French?" Out of the side of his mouth, he murmured, "Nope, not a word." After a pause, he added, "Thank God you decided to tag along, huh? I might've gotten lost this weekend." Gasping, Lenna watched him smile at the concierge as the man returned. "Here is your room key, Monsieur Farris. I'll see that your luggage is brought up." "Thank you," Braxton said, taking their key card. "May I have a wakeup call at eight?" "Certainly, Monsieur." Braxton and Lenna stayed in the hotel on their first night in Paris. They had too much fun exploring their fancy suite to 163


go out just yet. Plus it was late, ten o'clock their time and four a.m. Paris time. When they finally tucked themselves into the single, kingsized bed, it was nearly five in the morning. Lenna didn't even stir when Braxton's wakeup call rang three hours later. Utterly exhausted, he dragged himself out of bed and took a long, hot shower. As he dressed in a suit and tie, he watched Lenna sleep. She looked so peaceful and content, a soft smile spread across his face. He couldn't regret being awake when simply seeing her lie there like an innocent angel was a reward in itself. The problem he encountered was leaving her. Digging the gift he'd brought out of his suitcase, he set it on his pillow. He jotted down a note and put it on top of the wrapped box. After smiling one more time at her sweet, innocent slumber, he pressed a light kiss to her lips. When she continued to lie there like the dead, he grinned and impulsively touched her cheek. "Goodbye," he whispered and brushed a piece of hair off her temple. "You're beautiful." Needing to make his first meeting at nine, he finally left. Noon came before Lenna stirred. She groaned, sore and travel weary. When she opened her eyes, she found herself staring at a sculpted and decorated ceiling. She blinked a few times before she recalled the past evening's events. She was in Paris! "Braxton!" she called, sitting up and looking around the room. When he didn't answer, a small frown puckered her face. "Brax?" 164


She glanced at his side of the bed only to discover a wrapped box and note lying on his abandoned pillow. Reaching for the note, she ignored the gift and read impatiently. Lenna, you looked too peaceful to wake. I have meetings until five, but I left you a gift I'm confident will keep you busy until I return. Don't have too much fun touring the city without me. Be back at the hotel by seven. Dinner is at eight. Enjoy, Brax. Disappointed he was already gone and even more crestfallen he wouldn't return until after five, Lenna glanced at the gold-wrapped box. Not too enthused about a gift, she tore off the wrapping, wishing Braxton was present instead. The day was going to be no fun without him. She didn't want to tour Paris alone. She didn't even have a camera to take any— Lenna gasped... and then threw back her head and laughed. It was official. The man thought of everything. Inside her unwrapped box was a digital camera so she could preserve her Paris trip forever. Lenna had lunch in a French cafe. She sat at a small table outside under a veranda and breathed in the cool February air. Too excited for the chill in the breeze to bother her, she gazed around her with her red cheeks and took in everything that happened. It was thrilling to order a meal in French. The waiter hadn't given her one strange look either. So, she must've done it 165


correctly, though a woman at the table next to her did lean over and ask if she was American due to her accent. After eating, she went straight to the Eiffel Tower. Lenna didn't care if that made her a tacky tourist. She wanted to be inside the oh-so famous piece of architecture. Braxton had also left her some euros so she was able to buy a few trinkets in the gift shop. When she went up the tower as far as she could go, she looked down at the grand city below, wishing she'd waited on Braxton so she could've experienced the view with him. But he had business to attend to and said he'd wanted her to have fun. So, she continued her day, touring the city. The next place Lenna went was the Musee du Louvre. She'd intended to walk the entire way, hoping to experience Paris with all five senses, not just see it out a car window. But she only made it ten blocks before the freezing wind and her aching muscles made her give in; she hailed a cab. The Louvre Museum was huge. She couldn't believe how grand... and old it was. As if she'd just stepped into history, Lenna explored with reverent leisure. But the place was bigger than she'd anticipated and Lenna had to skip most of the exhibits in order to return to the hotel by five. Braxton had told her seven, but she wanted to be there when he arrived. She'd worn her gift camera out by the time she finally made her way back to the Hotel Duc de Saint-Simon. She'd taken a picture of everything she saw. And she'd seen so much. Every statue, fountain, and exotic building had been 166


caught by her lens. Lenna had even snapped a few shots of passing strangers. She was sitting crossed-legged on the hotel bed, reviewing her day on the digital screen of her camera when Braxton returned. Lenna looked up as the door opened and grinned, her heart lifting at the mere sight of him. Unable to help herself, she lifted the camera and snapped off a shot. Then she noticed the exhaustion on his face, lining his eyes and mouth with deep creases. Braxton sent her a tired smile and tugged his tie loose. Dropping the briefcase he'd carried in, he mumbled, "Hi," as he trudged toward her. Then he flopped face-first onto the mattress beside her and buried his nose in the sheets. "Hi," Lenna returned in a worried tone. She rubbed his back. "Bad day?" He managed to lift his head and meet her gaze. "Not the first part," he admitted. "I met my client, and we formed a pretty good rapport. But the second half of the day," he rolled his eyes, "was a complete waste of time." Groaning, he sat up and scooted closer to her. "I thought I was going to be able to talk about our new line of mufflers. I even had a nifty little speech ready and everything. But all they did was call my name and have me stand up. Everybody clapped, and I sat back down." Running a hand through his hair and causing the dark mass to stand on end, Braxton went on. "I can't believe I sat there through four hours of crap for that. I listened to a bunch of bull that had nothing whatsoever to do with Farris 167


Industries... and all for a five second ovation of applause." He snorted. Lenna hugged him. "I'm sorry," she said. He mumbled something incoherent and then pulled back. "So," he asked, smiling for her benefit. "How was your day?" He looked sincerely curious, so Lenna let her thrilled grin show. "I loved it." Braxton's eyes glittered. "Good," he murmured. "I hoped you would." He leaned forward and kissed her softly. But Lenna pulled back to add, "It would've been better if I'd experienced it with you, though." "Then I have good news. We don't have to be apart for the rest of the trip." "Really?" she asked, looking skeptical. Braxton returned the serious look and leaned his forehead against hers. "Really." Then he pulled back to grin. "They canceled the short conference I was supposed to attend in the morning, thank God, so there are no more meetings. I am taking my new client to dinner tonight, but I was hoping you'd accompany me." She brightened, flattered he thought her worthy enough. "Sure. I'd love to." He leaned forward to kiss her. But when she went to deepen it, he pulled back. "Now, tell me everything you did today." "Oh!" she said, excited to share. "Here. I took pictures. Thank you for the camera, by the way."

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Braxton nodded distractedly, already flipping through her camera's library. When he saw snapshots of the Eiffel Tower, his shoulders slumped. "Oh, man. You already went." Lifting her face, Lenna said, "I'm sorry. I didn't know you wanted to—" He covered her hand with his. "Don't worry about it," he told her. "I was just... never mind." "No," she said, her face still filled with concern. "We can go again tomorrow." "But there's so much you probably want to see," he argued. "I don't want you to have to repeat—" "It's okay. I don't mind." "Lenna," he said in a warning voice. "We're not going." She rolled her eyes. "Yes. We are. I wanted to go with you, anyway." Braxton gave up the argument with a sigh and forced her to keep showing him the pictures she'd taken. "And here is the Musee du Louvre," she said a few shots later. "What's that?" he asked, frowning at the small screen. Lenna sent him an amazed look. When he finally lifted his eyes from the picture, he caught the expression. "What?" he asked innocently. "You've never heard of The Louvre? It's only, like, one of the most famous museums in the world." "Oh," was his casual reply. Lenna snorted as his blase answer. "The Louvre," she repeated. "You know, the museum that holds the Mona Lisa?" 169


Finally, his eyes lit with recognition. "Ohhh," he said again, drawing out the word this time. "Wow, I didn't know that painting was in France." Lenna once again found herself staring at him in disbelieving shock. "Where did you think it was?" He shrugged. "I don't know. In the United States, I guess. Probably at the Smithsonian or some such place." Lenna rolled her eyes, but an amused gleam lit her face. "Oh, my God. You are so American." "And proud of it," he answered, winking. For dinner, Lenna wore the one fancy dress she'd packed. She started to worry it was too plain when she slipped it on. But as soon as she stepped from the bathroom, she realized it was perfect, mostly because of Braxton's reaction when he saw it. He took one look at it and froze. "You look..." He shook his head as if to clear the dirty thoughts from his brain. Then his eyes lifted to hers. "I'm going to have to kick a lot of French ass tonight to keep you at my side." She laughed and thanked him. And she kept thanking him. Whenever he opened a door for her or whenever he stepped aside to let her go first, she murmured her oh-so appreciative thanks. As soon as they entered the restaurant where they would be eating, she paused and glanced around the waiting area. "Oh, Braxton," she murmured, intimidated. "This place is spectacular." She turned to him. "Thank you so much for—" He cut her off by placing a finger over her mouth. "You're wearing me out, woman." 170


Lenna frowned. "Huh?" Laughing at her bewilderment, he added, "If I have to say 'you're welcome' to one more of your 'thank-yous' tonight, my tongue is just going to plum fall off." Lenna paused. "Have I been overly grateful?" she asked, wincing. He nodded. "Just a tad." But then touched her cheek and grinned. The maitre d' led them to their table, where Braxton's client already waited. "Farris," the man greeted, getting to his feet as Braxton and Lenna approached. He spoke English with a thick accent. "Richard," Braxton said, stretching out his hand. The men shook, and Braxton turned toward Lenna. "Lenna, this is Richard Trousseau of the Renault Automobile Company. He's just signed on with Farris Industries to purchase our mufflers and put them on their luxury vehicles." Lenna's dimple appeared as the man turned toward her. "Enchante," she answered meekly when he took her hand and kissed the back of her fingers. "This is Lenna Davenport," Braxton told Richard. "She came with me to tour Paris tomorrow." "Excellent," Richard answered, continuing to hold Lenna's fingers as he glanced at Braxton. "You said you would be bringing a dinner companion, Farris, but you forgot to mention she was so beautiful." "Vous etes tres gentil," Lenna murmured, telling him he was very kind. 171


Richard turned to her in delighted surprise. "And you speak French," he exclaimed. "Lenna minored in it while she was in college," Braxton announced, looking like a proud father. Hearing that news, Richard started off in a barrage of French. Lenna smiled and answered him. When he heard her reply, Richard threw back his head and laughed heartily. "This flower you've brought me is a delight," he informed Braxton happily and motioned toward their seats. "Now let us sit before they kick us out for loitering." Braxton pulled out a chair for Lenna. She started to thank him but caught herself, pausing to guiltily meet his gaze. She could tell he knew exactly what she'd just about said. His eyes glittered with mirth, and his lips tightened with the effort to repress a gloating smile. "Merci," she told him instead, refusing to be rude and not thank him in some fashion. He chuckled as he took his own chair. The waiter, who'd been waiting for them to be seated, stepped forward then and proceeded to inform them what the house wine of the day was. Lenna kept glancing at Braxton, but he avidly watched the waiter as if hanging off each syllable the man pronounced. She wanted to shake her head in amusement. Braxton looked, for all the world, like he understood every word the waiter spoke. Finally, the waiter asked if they wanted to order their drinks. He turned immediately to Braxton with an expectant look. Braxton's eyes grew to the size of saucers. Lenna could 172


actually see his Adam's apple slide up and then bob nervously back down his throat as he swallowed. Having mercy on him, she leaned close and whispered. "He wants to know what you'd like to drink." Braxton lifted his eyes to the waiter. "Oh," he murmured. Then he turned to Lenna. "Uh... water?" he said as if he were asking instead of answering. She grinned and then transferred her attention back to their waiting attendant. "Est-ce que nous pourrions avoir de l'eau?" The waiter nodded and then turned to Richard. As Braxton's client rattled off his drink of choice, Braxton murmured into Lenna's ear. "God, you're good at that." Beaming, she lifted her chin. "I know." Their next obstacle came when the waiter passed out the menus. Braxton took one look at the foreign words and quickly whispered, "Lenna! Help." Beyond pleased he needed her so much, Lenna glowed. She covered his hand supportively. "Don't worry. Just tell me what you're hungry for." "A hamburger," he moaned, nearly whining. Lenna tightened her fingers sympathetically. Yes, he was definitely American. She scanned the list. "They don't have hamburgers. What about, uh..." She scanned the list. "Steak?" He closed his eyes and sighed in relief. "Yes," he said. "A nice juicy American steak sounds like heaven." Then he leaned closer, "They have French fries, right? I mean, come on. This is France. They gotta have fries." 173


Lenna's lips lifted as she said, "They don't call them French fries here." "Oh," he said. "Well, of course not. They're probably just fries, right?" Holding in a spurt of laughter, Lenna glanced away to keep the giggle in. God, he was cute when he was utterly clueless. "Actually, they're called Pommes Frites." "Tell me, Miss Davenport," Richard said, interrupting her and Braxton's private exchange. Lenna lifted her face, a little embarrassed that she'd actually forgotten he was present. "What kind of work do you do in America?" [Back to Table of Contents]

174


Chapter Fifteen **** Braxton was able to slip in a little business conversation with his client over dinner, but most of the night was spent listening to Richard and Lenna chat in French. To his ears, she sounded like a native. The language spilled from her lips as if she spoke it daily. Richard repeatedly complimented her flawless delivery, and she continued to smile and blush. It didn't take long for Braxton to grow jealous because his client was a little too delighted by her, but mostly he remained satisfied with how well she'd enchanted the other man. Smug relief filled him when it was his arm she clung to as they left. "Au revoir," she called to Richard, waving and beaming as Braxton ushered her away. God, he loved being with her. She thrilled him, and challenged him, and touched something inside that gave him a sense of power and elation. As they sat huddled close together in the back seat of the cab on the return ride to their hotel, she rested her head on his shoulder. He tightened his arm around her waist and lifted his hand to stroke her hair. "Tired?" "No, not really," she answered, even as she snuggled closer. "I'm overwhelmed. This is all just so exciting and exotic. I feel like a princess." 175


Braxton grinned. "Like Cinderella again?" he asked, remembering the first night they'd met at the company Christmas Party. "No, this is different. I must be Sleeping Beauty this time around because today has to be a dream." She sighed and relaxed against him. "The most amazing dream." When they arrived at the hotel, Lenna remembered not to thank Braxton as he held the door open for her. But she gave him a big, enticing smile as she passed. As he stared back, his eyelids grew heavy and his grin predatory. Slipping his arm over her shoulder, he murmured into her hair, "I have to admit. Listening to you talk French all night was definitely a turn on." They stopped at the entrance to their suite. Braxton reached around her to unlock the door and let her precede him inside. Lenna turned so she could face him. Walking backward into the room, she met his gaze and let out a husky laugh. "Did you really like my French?" He nodded, his eyes lighting with desire as he shut the door behind him and stalked toward her. Lenna coyly kept backing away but he snagged out a hand and caught her around the waist. "It was incredibly sexy," he murmured, drawing her closer in order to kiss his way down her neck. Lenna closed her eyes and sighed, tipping her face up to give him better access. "Pouvez-vou parler plus lentement, s'il vous plait," she said huskily. 176


Braxton shivered. "God," he groaned. "That sounds dirty. What'd you say?" "I said, 'please speak more slowly.'" He threw back his head and laughed. Lenna grabbed the front of his shirt and jerked him closer, wanting to run her tongue along his jaw. "Je voudrais une chamber avec sale de balcon," she murmured in his ear and then nipped at the lobe with her teeth. "I'd like a room with a balcony. "Est-ce qu'on peut nager ici sans danger?" she continued. "Is it safe to swim here?" Braxton filled his hands with her hair. "Okay," he muttered in a thick voice. "I don't need the translation. Just... keep talking French." Grinning, Lenna kissed her way down the side of his neck. "Pouvez-vous preparer ma note, s'il vous plait?" she murmured and kept saying inconsequential phrases that seemed to drive him mad. As Braxton backed her toward the bed, she ached for that all-consuming burst of animation she knew he could give. She wanted to wrap herself around him and live in this moment for the rest of eternity. She refused to think about what lay ahead of them after they returned from their trip. She didn't want to remember how Braxton was a secret she could tell no one about. She just wanted this. So, she took it. She took Braxton into her mouth and sucked him until he cried out her name in a hoarse voice and 177


begged to be inside her. She relented only because she desired it as much as he did. Later, when Braxton was passed out next to her in a deep sleep, Lenna stared at his profile and softly whispered, "Je t'adore," as she lovingly ran her fingers over his face. The next morning, Braxton sat Indian style on his hotel bed, skimming through a Paris guidebook he'd bought. "So, where do you want to go first?" he asked. In the bathroom, Lenna had left the door open while she applied the finishing touches of her makeup. "I don't care," she called back. "What do you want to do?" "Well, let's see here." He glanced through the book until something caught his eye. "We could ride on a double-decker bus and take a two-hour trip through the city. Then there's also a boat tour on the Seine." Lenna gasped and popped her face into the room. "A boat ride?" she sighed. "How romantic. Does that last long?" "Uh..." Braxton consulted the guidebook. "Seventy-five minutes." "Could we do that?" she asked, her eyes begging. He shrugged. "Sure." Hell, he didn't have a clue what to do. As long as he was with her, anything sounded appealing. "I want to see another museum too, before we leave," Lenna added, disappearing back into the bathroom. "Oh, and I've always wanted to visit the market and buy fruit and stuff like that. Then there's the Notre Dame Cathedral and..." As she named off a few more things, Braxton quietly closed the guidebook. 178


Alrighty then. Sounded like his day was already planned, which was perfectly fine with him. He tossed the book onto the mattress beside him and scooted off the bed. Strolling into the bathroom, he went to sit on the closed lid of the toilet, where he watched Lenna lean closer to the mirror and apply eyeliner to the base of her lashes. Spellbound as he watched, Braxton didn't think she could look much better than she had this morning, about half an hour earlier when he'd had her naked in the shower. Her face had been scrubbed free of all cosmetics, and she'd been absolutely breathtaking. But he had to admit, it was fascinating to watch her primp. "I know this sounds kind of morbid," she went on, capping the eyeliner wand only to lift a tube of lip-gloss and bring it to her mouth. "But I think it would be neat to go to Les Catacombs too." "What's that?" Braxton asked, unable to take his eyes off her lips as she rubbed them together. He hated to tell her he'd have that gloss kissed off in about five seconds because, damn, she sure looked good putting it on. "It's this underground tunnel thing that's, like, a thousand yards long, or something, and it's full of six million skeletons." Braxton paused. Skeletons? "Real skeletons?" Finished with her makeup, Lenna turned from the mirror and took in the sight of him perched on the commode, watching her. "Why would they put a bunch of fake skeletons in a grave?" 179


Why indeed? Braxton found himself grinning, but he couldn't think what was so funny. He just felt incredibly content. She held a hand down to him. "Ready?" In a teasing mood, he pushed to his feet and reached toward her pile of makeup on the counter. "Well, I need to put on some blush first, and then I—" "Ha, ha. Very funny," she muttered, rolling her eyes and tugged him away from the mirror. "No, really," he said, resisting her pull and trying to get a look at his face in the mirror. "Does my foundation look even to you?" He batted his lashes at his own reflection. "Shut. Up," she stressed and lightly punched him in the arm, though amusement glittered in her eyes and pulled her lips tight. Braxton laughed and rubbed his shoulder. "Geez, I'm just teasing." He pulled to a halt so she would stop too and glance at him. "Honestly, you look really good." He bent his head and went to work destroying her lip gloss job. They spent the rest of the afternoon touring Paris, taking pictures, and pretty much having the time of their lives. First, they took the boat ride on the Seine River. It was a cold trip, but Braxton didn't mind because that only made Lenna curl closer to him and snuggle her red cheeks against his coat. He sat with his arms around her and watched the mist from their breaths merge into one cloud. Since they spent most of the day outside in the frigid air, Braxton insisted they stop at a clothing store, where he 180


bought them both extra gloves and scarves. He even purchased a sweater Lenna had been discreetly admiring. She didn't notice the buy until they were already a block away and, even then, it took him nearly ten minutes to talk her into keeping the silly thing. Finally, she slipped it on over the blouse she wore and had to admit the added warmth was nice. Braxton had never seen so many manicured gardens and statues of naked people in all his life. But Lenna had a blast taking pictures of every one of them. Then she dragged him to the market, where they bought a bag full of fruit. He found himself eating something called sanguine. Citrus juice dripped down his chin as he strolled from vendor to vendor. When he caught sight of a quaint gift shop, he suddenly remembered his deal with Thomas Davenport. Under normal circumstances, he would've told Lenna of Tom's request for him to get her a souvenir. That way, she could pick out her own gift. But there was no way in hell Braxton was going to mention Tom's name and ruin the rest of their weekend. They had a cheerful, relaxed mood going, and he wasn't about to jeopardize that. He sighed. Sometimes, he wished her father would find out about them already. He couldn't stand this waiting for the other shoe to drop. Tired of keeping his feelings for her quiet, he was ready to go on the Oprah show and start jumping on some couches, for the love of God. 181


Their relationship couldn't progress until her father knew about them, and for the first time in his life, Braxton was ready to move things along. Possessive like he'd never been before, he wanted to publicly claim her as his—exclusively his—so no other man had the right to touch his woman. If they had to forge their way through Tom's anger and accusations to get to that point, then damn it, he was ready for that too. Truth be told, he'd once been tempted to come right out and ask her dad for his permission to take her on a date. He'd even waited until after work one day and followed Davenport to his car. After calling Tom's name, he watched Tom turn and send him a questioning look. He opened his mouth. "I was wondering," he started hesitantly. "If I could ask—" out your daughter some time. But he hadn't been able to finish the question. He looked into Tom's eyes and realized they were the exact same shade of green as Lenna's. He might as well have been looking at her and catching her betrayed stare for going against her wishes to reveal their relationship. Braxton froze. He shook his head and muttered, "Never mind." Then he waited until a frowning Tom got into his car and drove off before he pressed the palms of his hands into his eye sockets and groaned out his misery. Now, however, he wished he wouldn't have chickened out that day. At least they'd be able to move on. Except, Braxton was afraid the "moving on" part would mean she'd move on without him, and he'd lose her. 182


So, he took the secret one step further and decided not to tell Lenna about the gift from her dad. While she chatted in French with a flower vendor, Braxton ducked inside the small shop. His eyes scanned the shelves until he spotted a picture he'd seen Lenna admiring earlier in one of the museums they toured. Before second-guessing himself, he tucked the ToulouseLautrec print under his arm and hurried to the checkout counter. Having no idea what the salesclerk was jabbering on about, he stuck with the whole smile-and-nod theory and handed over his credit card. She must've asked if he wanted the picture gift wrapped, though, because after he paid for it, she pulled out a blue bow and cream paper. Hell, lady, he wanted to say. Hurry it up before I'm caught and have to explain myself. But of course, even if he had said that aloud, she wouldn't have understood a word of his language. As soon as she finished and slid the picture into a bag, he snatched the item from her hand and treated her to a tense, apologetic smile. Then he booked it out of there. Lenna caught him just as he was exiting the store. He jerked to a surprised halt. "There you are," she said, coming toward him and eyeing his bag curiously. She grinned. "I've been looking for you. What were you doing in there?" Braxton wanted to slap a hand over his mouth when he let out a nervous laugh. "I was just... you know." He buried himself even more when he gave her a careless and 183


completely guilty shrug. "Buying a souvenir... for my... for my sister. Yeah. I told Savannah I'd get her something while I was in town." "How sweet," Lenna answered and edged forward, trying to peek inside his bag. "What'd you get her?" When she reached for the opening, he jerked back. Lenna's head snapped up. She blinked in stunned confusion and Braxton's face heated. God, if only he were a better liar. Wishing he could sink through the ground, he forced a smile. "It's just a picture," he said and pulled the wrapped gift from the bag. Okay, so she'd know where it came from when her dad gave it to her. That was fine, as long as she didn't know now. If she found out now, she'd grow depressed about how she kept lying to her family, deceiving her father, and adding secret upon secret, and her first trip to Paris would be ruined. "See," Braxton said, rattling the frame like a kid would shake his Christmas gift. "You can't even tell what it is." She stared at the cream-colored paper and the bow for what felt like forever. Then she slowly lifted her face. Braxton almost reached for her she looked so hurt. "Oh," she said in a small voice and turned away. His heart stopped for a whole second. He opened his mouth to tell her the truth, but she'd already moved away. "I'm going to check out the pottery they're selling over there." She pointed and sent him a smile over her shoulder that reassured him, making him believe she wasn't upset or suspicious like he'd feared. 184


Sighing, Braxton followed, relieved he was off the hot plate. Lenna knew she shouldn't let it bother her, but that stupid wrapped present plagued her for a good portion of the afternoon. She wouldn't be this apprehensive if Braxton hadn't acted so strangely when she'd found him buying it. But he'd frozen like a deer in the headlights and gaped at her when she'd caught him stealthily exiting the gift shop. Now, a little voice in her head kept repeating, "It's not really for his sister." But who else would it be for, and why would he lie about it? It wasn't for another woman. She refused to believe that theory. Braxton was not cheating on her. Then again, little niggles of doubt kept nibbling at her subconscious. What if she was wrong? Her lover was an insatiable man. He wanted sex non-stop. Lenna told herself that was just because they were so utterly explosive together. She wanted it all the time when she was with him too. But maybe this kind of reaction wasn't so uncommon for him. Maybe he was just that virile. Maybe he needed a hoard of women to keep him satisfied. Or maybe she was losing her mind. Regardless, Lenna held him just a little tighter when they reached the hotel room and he tackled her onto the bed. When he pushed inside her, she drove him just a little harder, forcing him to see what they had together. And afterward, she clung to him just a little bit longer, hoping she was the only one for him. 185


He glanced at her with glazed and astonished eyes as he wiped a bead of sweat off his brow and panted out a steadying breath. "What got into you?" he asked. He looked so shell-shocked she decided there was no way he could be seeing anyone else behind her back. This was just as amazing and abnormal for him as it was for her. Ashamed for thinking the worst of him, she sent him an innocent shrug. "What can I say? France just... turns me on." He laughed. "We're definitely coming back then." He covered her with loving kisses, nibbling and licking his way across warm skin. "At least once a year. Possibly on a monthly basis." Except for her small worry over Braxton's fidelity, Lenna loved France. He took her to another fancy restaurant Saturday evening, and then they spent the rest of the night in bed. On Sunday, they spent the return flight back to New York, once again in bed. It was ten a.m., Paris time, when they departed. But after their seven hour flight, it was only eleven in New York when they landed. Braxton drove her home. After he walked her to her door, carrying her luggage for her, he turned to meet her gaze, looking extremely reluctant to leave. Lenna could relate. She'd grown accustomed to being with him. She really liked Braxton's company, even when they weren't ripping off each other's clothes. 186


It was Sunday, however, and she needed to see her family before they suspected the truth. The Davenport clan had already begun asking questions because she hadn't visited as much in the six weeks since she'd started her clandestine affair with her dad's boss. Her mother teased and asked if she'd lost interest in them. Lenna was running out of excuses. Ergo, tonight she'd make it to supper come rain or shine. So, she sent Braxton on his way and unpacked. By four o'clock, she was exhausted. Her internal clock had shifted her totally off whack, and her body seemed to think it was bedtime. So Lenna decided to take a quick power nap. But she slept through her alarm clock and didn't wake until a quarter 'til seven when her phone rang and wouldn't stop. It was her mother. "Honey? Are you okay?" Maxine Davenport's concerned voice filled Lenna's ear as soon as she answered the phone. "Hey, Mom," she mumbled as she closed her eyes and yawned. "I'm fine. Just jet lagged." A second later, she realized what she'd said. Her eyes flew open, and she sat up so fast she made herself dizzy. Oh, Crap! "You're what, dear?" Lenna swallowed. "I'm... I... I'm just lagged. I'm really tired for some reason." She winced at the feebleness of her own lie. Man, she hated deceiving her innocent mother. "Goodness," Maxine answered. "Do you think you're coming down with a cold?" "I don't know. Maybe." Lenna latched onto the neck of that little scapegoat and rode the hell out of there. "My throat is scratchy." 187


"Then maybe you should stay home tonight. I don't want you out and about, making yourself worse." "But... you wouldn't mind?" Lenna bit her lip, hating herself. "Of course not," her mother's voice soothed. "Just stay in bed and gargle a glass of salt water. Get yourself some rest, okay, sweetheart?" Lenna nodded. "Okay, Mom. Thanks. I... I love you." "I love you too, dear. Now, go take care of that throat." Lenna disconnected and stared at the receiver for ten seconds before she burst into tears. She didn't want to hide anymore. She wanted the world to know how crazy she was about Braxton Farris. It wasn't fair her dad would condemn their relationship if he knew. He'd probably disown her, never talk to her again, and sell her off to some middle-eastern goat-herding family. But that was nothing compared to what he'd do to Braxton. She knew Brax would bear the brunt of Thomas Davenport's wrath if he ever found out she was sleeping with his boss. The bad thing was, she had no idea exactly what it was Tom would do. She just knew she didn't want to find out. [Back to Table of Contents]

188


Chapter Sixteen **** Braxton strolled into Farris Industries Monday morning, whistling and sending a greeting smile to every employee he passed. Most of them paused to gape after him, frowning in confusion over his unusually good mood. He found Davenport in the break room, pouring a cup of coffee. "Hey, Tom!" he called, making the man turn and eye him with a leery frown. Lifting the wrapped package under his arm, he held it out. "I got that thing you wanted from Paris." Tom stared down at the cream package and blue bow. "What thing?" he asked blankly. Braxton hesitated and glanced at the other two people in the room. Ben Hendricks and Braxton's secretary, Tasha, watched in open curiosity. He turned back to Lenna's dad. "Ah... you wanted me to pick up a souvenir... for your daughter," he prompted. "Oh!" Tom said. He took the gift from Braxton and frowned down at it, turning turned it over in his hands. "What...what is it exactly?" "It's a...an art print," Braxton said. "By some guy, Too Loose La Track, or something like that." He shrugged. "I don't know. Len—" He stopped quickly to clear his throat. His face turned purple as he coughed and pounded on his chest. "I mean, the lady...in the store...said he was famous." 189


Tom nodded slowly. "I think you're right," he answered. "Yeah, I'm sure I've heard Lenna mention the name." He continued to stare at the wrapped picture, making Braxton antsy. "Is that okay? I mean, was there something else you had in mind? Because you didn't specify—" "No!" Tom quickly cut him off. He lifted his eyes to Braxton and sent him a solemn look. "No, this is... perfect actually. I just assumed you'd buy a miniature Eiffel Tower figurine or the like. But, no. I think she'd like this better. It's more... Lenna." Then he shocked the snot out of everyone in the room and said, "Thanks." For a moment, Braxton couldn't respond. Finally, he gave the man a brief nod and turned to leave. But Tasha stopped him. "How was Paris?" Braxton paused. "Paris," he murmured and exhaled a breath of air, "was amazing." "So... business went well?" Tasha pressed. "Oh!" Braxton blurted out as if he hadn't been aware she'd been asking about business. "Yeah," he said. "Yes, as a matter of fact, our contact with Renault, Richard Trousseau, seemed very impressed with our product. He signed on with us, and I have a good feeling he's not just going to renew his contract at the end of our term, but he might become one of our biggest buyers before long." He grinned at Tasha and winked. "I'd say, start looking for a raise in the near future." Then he strolled away, taking up where he'd left off whistling. The three in the break room stared after him. 190


Finally, Ben murmured, "Who here thinks boss boy got himself laid in France?" As he lifted his own hand, Tasha raised hers as well. Tom, however, contorted his face into a revolted scowl. "That's disgusting," he grumbled. "Are you trying to make me lose my breakfast?" He didn't care to know about his boss' sex life. And when Ben and Tasha started to discuss how Braxton probably found himself some pretty French pastry in Paris, Tom huffed from the room, not wanting to hear another word. Braxton couldn't stop daydreaming. But something had changed. Something big had altered his life. He'd been fixated on Lenna since the first moment he'd met her. But after spending three straight days with her, his fixation had flourished into a raving obsession. Now his every thought centered around her. Reliving the weekend in his head, Braxton recalled a thought he'd formed when he'd been in France. He remembered how Lenna had enjoyed translating for him so much. And bam, the idea he'd been watering bloomed into fruition. Before he could rethink his actions, he lifted the phone and called his friend, Greg, at ProTech. Lenna was nearly ready to go to work at the Lounge when her phone rang. Already dressed in her waitress uniform, she paused in the middle of fixing herself a sandwich and wiped bread crumbs off her fingers before answering the call. "Hello?" "Howdy," a male returned. 191


Lenna frowned, not recognizing the voice. Thinking it was a telemarketer, she was on the verge of hanging up. "This is Lenna, right?" he asked. Cautiously, she answered, "Yes. Who is this?" "Oh, right. Sorry. I don't know if you remember me. I'm Greg Scanlon. We met at the Wild Side Night Club a couple months ago." Okay, now that was weird. Lenna couldn't remember anyone named Greg. And she hadn't been to a club in... well, not since the night she'd brought Braxton back to her apartment from—God, she couldn't even remember the name of that club. "I was with your dad's boss," Greg clarified. "Braxton Farris." "Oh," Lenna said quickly. Ohhh. He was that guy. "Anyway," Greg went on after pausing to clear his throat. "I'm looking for some help at my company, ProTech, and my man Brax mentioned your name." ProTech? Hadn't that been the place where Braxton had worked before becoming her father's boss? Growing more and more intrigued, Lenna replied, "Okay." "Great. So, here's the deal," Greg said. "ProTech provides different websites with internet security, right?" He waited a beat as if he expected Lenna to reply, so she quickly answered, "Right." Sure. Whatever. "And we've been doing this really awesome job. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but we've been getting business out the—" He coughed to keep himself from cursing. "Anyway, we've started to get business from these foreign 192


places needing our services. But... " he snorted. "No one can understand what the heck the sites are about because, well, they're foreign. Most of them aren't in English. And, sure, HTML code is universal, but we'd still like to know what they're saying on the web front. Therefore, what I've been looking for is someone to translate these websites for our security team in order for us to be able to, you know, better expand our business internationally. And Braxton said the daughter of one of his employees—that would be you—was really good with translating different languages." "Oh," Lenna said in surprise. They needed a translator. The guy wanted her to come work for him as a translator. Oh, wow. "But..." she said, wincing. "I only know French. I mean, that's the only language where I'm adept. I can probably do passably in Spanish, and I know minimal Italian. But I'm not very—" "Hell, French, Spanish and Italian are a heck of a lot more than anyone around here knows." "But—" she said again. Dear Lord, was this really happening? Someone was calling to offer her a dream job of a lifetime, and she was arguing with the guy? "Why don't you just come by ProTech and talk to me some time. I'll show you a few websites, and we'll see if you think you can figure them out. It's not like you have to know the translations immediately, anyway. You can always cheat and look up words, or contact a professional translator who can help you. I just need someone to do that specific job. How does that sound?" 193


"It sounds wonderful," she blurted out. But there was no way she was in any way qualified for the position. "Awesome," Greg said. "How about you swing by ProTech at nine tomorrow morning? I can give you the address." Lenna was flabbergasted, absolutely speechless. She bobbed her head vigorously before she realized he couldn't see her silent answer. Then, unable to contain her excitement, she burst out—a little too vociferously—"Yes! Oh, my God. Yes. Thank you so much, Mr..." Shoot! What was his last name again? He chuckled. "Just call me Greg. We're pretty informal around here." "Thank you, Greg," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow morning." "Yep. We'll see ya then." After he disconnected, Lenna stared at the phone and then let out a shrill scream of excitement. Falling back on her bed, she stared at the ceiling and grinned. She had an interview in the morning. And she had Braxton to thank for it. It was nearly nine that night by the time Braxton made it home. Delightfully surprised to find a gorgeous blonde sitting on his front step, his heart rate picked up, and his shoulders tensed in anticipation. He could definitely get used to coming home to a sight like this. He cut the engine, snagged his briefcase from the passenger seat, and hopped out of his Land Rover, hurrying around the hood toward her as she got to her feet. 194


He was about to ask her what she was doing off work so early when she said, "Where were you? I took off work early to talk to you, and I've been waiting here ever since." "Lenna, Jesus, I'm sorry," he answered, drained after the day he'd put in. "I wished I'd known that. After going international, we've been swamped in the office, so I decided to put in a little overtime tonight." "Overtime?" Lenna repeated as if she didn't believe him. "Company presidents still have to work overtime?" Braxton nodded and slowed to a stop. "The good ones do." The smile slipped off his face as he noticed how accusing her gaze appeared. "What's up?" he asked. "Everything okay?" "Did you tell one of your friends about me today?" she asked, coming straight to the point. Worry laced his stomach and it stirred uneasily. Oh, Lord, he hadn't thought she'd be mad at him over his call to Greg. He hadn't even considered that possibility. "I... I..." he stammered out. "I didn't tell him about us," he reassured her. "But you mentioned my name to him?" she pressed. He nodded nervously. "As the daughter of one of my employees, yeah, I did. My friend, Greg, needs a translator for his business and I... I mentioned how well you spoke French." Braxton blew out a breath. "Was that bad?" Lenna continued to eye him with that freaky, blank look she had going. He swallowed. Great, he'd messed up. Big time. But then she let out a piercing shriek of excitement, and her face lit with pleasure. Flying at him, she opened her arms 195


and flung herself against him, kissing and hugging him like crazy. It almost knocked him over backward and right onto his butt. "I have an interview tomorrow at nine," she told him between kisses. "And I have you to thank for it." Braxton was too relieved to immediately care about her job interview. He was more relieved she wasn't mad at him. He caught her mouth and kissed her long and hard. Finally, he came up for air and wheezed, "That's great. But don't thank me. I just gave him a name." "You gave him my name," Lenna insisted. "Oh, Braxton, I can't believe I have an interview for a career I'd like. Do you know how exciting it'd be to figure out all these different languages? This is, like, my dream job. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I knew when I found it, it'd feel right. And this feels so right." Yes, indeed it did, especially when she attacked him as soon he unlocked his front door. Braxton barely got them inside before she pushed him against the wall and unzipped his jeans. He could only watch in amazement as she knelt before him and took him into her mouth. Soaking in her pure, unadulterated joy as he fisted his hands in her hair and closed his eyes, Braxton's mind screamed in red alert. But he ignored the warning signs; falling totally and irreversibly in love with Lenna Davenport. Tom sat, working at his desk Tuesday morning when Ben Hendricks strolled into his office.

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"Well, it's official," Ben announced. "Boss Boy's got himself a little girlfriend and not just a one-night stand like we thought after the hickey-discovery." Tom lifted his face and frowned. "What?" "When Farris got back from his trip, he went over his expenses with Tasha." Ben wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "And it seems our boy paid out-of-pocket for a third member at his business dinner. But... he only had one hotel room with one king-sized bed. So, whoever he took to France slept with him. In his one-bed hotel room." Tom rolled his eyes, not caring at all who Braxton Farris was or wasn't dating. There were big rumors going around the office about how their young boss didn't have much of a social life. He never talked about dating women... or men for that matter. But Tom just figured Farris to be a private person. And he was glad for that. He didn't want to hear about the kid's raunchy escapades anyway. Talk about disgusting. "Or," he said to Ben, "maybe he met someone in France and invited them along for dinner?" He hoped Ben would leave him alone and mull that idea over. But Ben pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. "Au contraire," he told Tom. "This is one billing receipt for the Hotel Duc de Saint-Simon in Paris. Room service delivered to room 108," he started to read. "Two glasses of water, one chicken cordon bleu, plus a Beef Burgundy with a side dish of sour cream. Then a bottle of their finest champagne. All of which, Farris paid for... out of pocket." 197


Tom snagged the receipt from Ben's hand and frowned down at that menu. It reminded him of his daughter. Lenna always ordered an extra side of sour cream. She ate the stuff with practically everything. "So, he had someone eat in his room with him," he grumbled, shoving the receipt back at Ben. "That doesn't mean—" "And for breakfast the next morning," Ben said, producing another receipt. "Two glasses of orange—" But Tom lifted his hand to stop the man. "Okay! Okay!" he snapped. "The boy has himself a girlfriend. Who cares?" Ben frowned. "Why aren't you the tiniest bit curious?" he asked. "Everyone always talks about their family or who they're dating. But this kid never, never, mentions a significant other. It's like he doesn't want us to know about her. Which makes me wonder... what's the big secret, huh?" "This all may be an exciting mystery to you," Tom said, lowering his head back to his work and lifting his hand to wave Ben from the room. "But I could honestly care less what Braxton Farris does on his off hours. Now, go gossip with someone else about it." Tom could feel Ben scowl at him for a minute. His friend grumbled about him being no fun as he slumped from the room. Tom shook his head over Ben's fixation and returned his attention to work. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Seventeen **** Lenna made a surprise visit to her parents' house in the suburbs Wednesday evening. She burst through their front door, almost ripping the hinges off in her haste. "Mom! Dad!" she yelled, exploding through the foyer and heading straight toward the living room. Her father was struggling out of his lazy boy when she bound into the room. Maxine hurried in from the kitchen with a dish towel in hand. "What in the world is going on?" her mom demanded to know, looking bewildered. "I got a job!" Lenna screamed and rushed over. She was so happy, she swept Maxine off the floor when she hugged her. "You..." Maxine's eyes turned as round as saucers. "Oh, Lenna," she murmured in delight. "That's wonderful." She returned her daughter's hug fiercely. "When? Where?" Setting her mom back on her feet, Lenna described her new position at ProTech. She turned expectantly toward her father. He stood and listened to what she'd be doing. When she was finished talking, he gave her such a blank stare she couldn't tell what thoughts swam through his head. Finally, a grin spread across his face. "That's my girl," he announced, proudly. 199


As he pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, Lenna's pulse accelerated. Since she'd appeased her father by getting a job he could be proud of, maybe she could tell him about Braxton soon without him blowing his top. Grinning, she crossed her fingers behind her back and made her decision. Definitely soon. Wearing navy blue slippers and a matching terry cloth robe, Tom Davenport stood by his bed, grumbling his nightly mantra under his breath as he tossed a load of throw pillows onto the floor. "Why in God's name do we need so many freaking pillows we don't even use? No man should have to—" "I think she's seeing someone," his wife announced unexpectedly as she appeared in the doorway that led into their connecting bathroom, her nightgown backlit by the bright bathroom vanity lights. Tom frowned. "Woman, what in the world are you talking about? Who's seeing someone?" He aimed a pillow to land exactly on top of another he'd already pitched to the carpet. His face contorted when he missed. Damn. "I think Lenna's seeing someone." Halting his pillow party, Tom turned to blink at Maxine while she smoothed lotion onto her face, dabbing gently under her eyes. "Lenna," he repeated. He had to shake his head to clear the befuddled idea from it. His wife though Lenna was seeing someone? No way. "Where in God's name did that idea come from?" 200


"I don't know," Maxine answered on a lofty shrug and turned back, disappearing into the bathroom. "It's just a feeling." "Max." He sighed, his shoulders deflating because he wasn't sure which subject she'd bring up next. First she'd been asking him about Braxton Farris. Then she'd moved on to his daughter dating? What a shift from one awful topic to the next. Next thing he'd know, his wife would be depressing him even more by asking how much his retirement investments had gone down this week. "She's not dating anyone," he muttered. "She'd tell us if she was." "Maybe," Maxine voice came back, sounding cryptic. Tom frowned. "Now, what's that supposed to mean? What do you know?" "I don't know anything, Tom. It's just a mother's intuition, okay?" "Honestly, dear," he called back on a snort. "I don't know where you get your ideas. Lenna is not dating anyone. We'd know." "But did you see her tonight? She glowed. She absolutely glowed." "Yeah." He rolled his eyes. "Because she'd just gotten a real job." If he were his youngest daughter, he'd add Duh right there, but he managed to hold himself back. "I don't think so," Maxine said. "She's been acting differently for over a month now. She hasn't been coming to Sunday suppers as much, and her reasons for not being able to make it have always been so vague. Then there's that 201


gleam in her eyes lately. I can't explain it. Something's going on with her, Tom, something besides a career." Maxine finally strolled fully into the room, dressed in a long nightgown. She paused and frowned at the half-cleared bed where Tom had stopped messing with the pillows and was standing there, frozen, with a scowl on his face. With her own impatient sigh, she took up his job, ridding the bed of the excess cushions. "I think she's in love," she finally said, tossing the last accessory into an armchair. Tom shook his head. "Well, I think your motherly instincts are all out of whack. She's just happy about her new job." He refrained from bringing up the dreaded M word. But menopause had been starting to plague his wife lately. "Maybe," was Maxine's demure reply as she folded back the covers. "Maybe not." Watching her with a moody scowl, Tom rubbed his bottom lip between his fingers. Well, damn. She seemed so sure of herself. It made him question the situation a moment. He didn't like the idea of Maxine knowing more about Lenna than he did. Their oldest had always been a daddy's girl, and he preferred to keep it that way. If Maxine had tapped into something about Lenna he hadn't, he'd be... well, she was wrong. That's all there was to it. He could be cruel and remind her he'd always been closer to Lenna than she had. He knew more about their firstborn. But Maxine looked quite lovely in her silky, brown nightgown this evening. He appreciated the way the material kept sliding 202


over her body and teasing him with glimpses of soft curves. Upsetting her was the last thing he wanted to accomplish. Reassuring himself he knew Lenna better, he agreeably murmured, "Maybe," as he followed Maxine onto the mattress and between the sheets, not giving the Lenna-in-love idea another thought. He flipped off his night light and reached for his wife. The Sunday before she started her first day at ProTech, Braxton leaned against the opened door to Lenna's apartment as he watched her call her family and tell them she couldn't make it to supper... again. Instead, the two of them went to a fancy restaurant and decided to celebrate her new job. When they returned to her apartment afterward, they spent most of the evening sitting cross-legged on her bed, discussing the people she'd be working with the next day. Braxton fed her more information about her future co-workers than she could possibly remember. She merely watched him, nodding, as he grew animated, talking about his old job. A small frown puckered her brow. "I still don't see why you left," she finally said. Braxton paused and glanced away. "Farris Industries is my family's legacy," was his vague explanation before he shrugged. Lenna opened her mouth, and he could see a "but" coming, so he quickly added, "Now, Donna Jorgensen is a real airhead. If you ask her to do something for you, don't expect it to get done right. You'll know her by her long, curly, red hair." 203


He went on, detailing every ProTech employee he remembered, not providing Lenna the opportunity to ask him again why he'd left. He didn't want to think about the reason he'd deserted his dream job in order to fill his father's shoes at Farris. To distract her, Braxton kissed her until they were both breathless. She tugged his shirt up over his head to press her mouth frantically to his chest. "You should be ashamed, you know," she panted while she batted his hand away from his zipper and lowered it herself. Thinking she'd caught on to his diversionary tactic, he lifted his face, eyes wide and mouth already open to spit out an apology. But Lenna only grinned as she reached inside his pants and cupped his testicles. "How could you turn a perfectly innocent goody-two-shoes like me into a complete nympho?" Grinning in relief, Braxton kissed her lips and murmured, "Just lucky, I guess." Late that night, Braxton woke in the wee hours. After having a nasty dream about Tom Davenport stealing Lenna away so he could never find her again, he couldn't get back to sleep. Next to him, she dreamt on, looking too peaceful to be experiencing her own disturbing nightmare. Hesitantly, he touched her bare back. As he absorbed the rise and fall of her lungs moving in and out under his palm, he eased, glad he had this physical contact to assure himself she was here and okay. He planned on keeping her that way for as long as he could. 204


Though he didn't want to leave her, his bladder needed emptied, so he slipped quietly from the bed and crept across her small apartment to the bathroom. He made sure to fully close the door before he flipped on the light. After finishing his business, he flushed. But as soon as the loud crash of water drained down the pipes, he winced. Hurrying toward the door, he cracked it open, hoping he hadn't roused her. Lenna began her new job in the morning. She needed a good night's sleep without interruptions. Braxton bit his lip as he peeked into the apartment. But as he watched the light from the bathroom spill over her sleeping form, he paused and straightened. Oh, mother of God, she was breathtaking. He opened the door a foot wider and studied the resting woman. He knew he could gladly stand there for the rest of eternity, just watching her. Wanting to capture this moment forever, Braxton tiptoed toward her desk where he knew she kept the camera he'd given her. Since Paris, they liked to pull the thing out and snap pictures of each other. Slipping it from its carrier, Braxton flipped the on switch and turned all the settings to silence. Then he set about snapping the most amazing shots he'd ever seen. When he was satisfied with the amount he'd taken, he turned off the power and ejected the memory card. Deciding he'd get a few of the Paris pictures printed off and framed for her, Braxton tucked the card away in his wallet and turned off the bathroom light before he eased back 205


under the covers next to Lenna and curled his body around hers. He sighed and closed his eyes, inhaling the familiar fragrance of her hair. Moments later, he was blissfully asleep, cuddled to the woman he loved. Monday morning, Lenna started her job at ProTech. Greg spent the first part of the day showing her around the office and introducing her to everyone. More than once, she had to hold in a giggle because she'd recall Braxton's description of that person. He was so accurate, it was hilarious. Barely managing to keep her poise professional and her attitude receptive to meeting everyone, even the people he hadn't given such a favorable review, she sent each new acquaintance the same friendly greeting. Finally, Greg led her to the cubicle that housed her new desk and computer. There, he already had a stack of work for her to start. Relieved to see her first assignment was to translate a French website, Lenna was so excited she sped right through the site and had a complete report translated and typed before noon. When she took it to Greg's office, he looked at the outstretched information, blinked once, and gawked at her. "You've got to be kidding me, right? There's no way you're done already. I've had three people working for two months trying to decipher that site." Lenna could only shrug. "This one was easy. I actually knew the language." 206


Greg scowled. "I have never given anyone a raise on their first day. Don't make me break my rule." Then his frown slipped into a smile, and he congratulated her. Lenna returned to her desk, glowing, Hyped and ready to fly through the next site, she opened the next file. But it was in Spanish and she had to pause a lot to look up different words. Near the end of the day, she gathered her purse and coat and tidied her desk—oh wow, she really had a desk. It was thrilling. She wanted to find Braxton and tell him about her entire day. So, she was delightfully surprised to find him camped out on the floor in front of her apartment door, balancing a pizza on his knee when she got home. He glanced up as she approached, and the grin he sent her was full of pride and boyish sincerity. "How'd it go?" he asked, pushing to his feet. She went straight to him for a hug. Once he had an arm securely around her waist, and she buried her face snuggly against his chest, she murmured, "I liked it." He pulled away and gave her a solemn look. Slowly, he traced her cheek with a few fingers. "You don't sound as excited as you did yesterday. Was it not what you expected?" "No," she answered and closed her eyes, sighing against his caress. She'd been so eager to see him and tell him everything. But now he was here, she just wanted to forget life for a while and focus on him. "It was so much more than I expected. It was perfect, Braxton. I'm still in awe I actually 207


have a job I like. I keep expecting Greg to tell me he made a mistake and send me on my way." Braxton scowled. "He wouldn't dare." "Why not?" Lenna gasped. "Oh, God. You forced him to hire me, didn't you?" He rolled his eyes, but grinned. "No, I did not force him, or twist his arm, or pay him off, or blackmail him to hire you. You got the job yourself. I'm just saying he wouldn't dare fire you because I know you. You'll work your butt off until you do a phenomenal job." Her shoulders eased. "Thank you," she said, pausing to unlock her door. As she moved inside, he followed. She went straight to her closet and pulled out a hanger before slipping off her coat. Braxton carried the pizza into the kitchen. Lenna hung her coat and un-wrapped the scarf from around her neck. She turned to watch Braxton open a cabinet and take down a drinking glass. "So, where did Greg stick you?" he asked as he filled the cup with ice. "Do you have your own corner office yet?" Lenna stared in amazement as her lover made himself right at home and pulled one of her diet sodas from the fridge. He opened the tab and commenced to pour its contents over the ice. "I have my own desk in one of the cubicles in the main part of the work room," she said, still watching him as he carried the drink to her. He winced, holding the cup out. "So, he stuck you out in general population, huh? Scanlon always was stingy about who he gave an office." 208


"Oh, and I suppose you had your own office when you worked there?" she asked, accepting the proffered drink. Braxton winked. "You know it." He returned to the kitchenette and took a clean plate from the cabinets. After placing a slice of pizza on it, he sprinkled it liberally with Parmesan cheese, just the way Lenna liked. He carried that to her next. Her breath caught as she murmured, "Thanks." After taking the food, she settled cross-legged on her bed and dove in. Braxton asked more questions about her day as he fixed his own supper. He bypassed plates and cups, opting to drink a regular cola straight from the can and eat his pizza off a paper towel. What she found so touching wasn't his guy mentality that plates and cups were overrated, but the fact he'd fed her first and known exactly how she preferred her meal. For some reason, it made her want to cry. He knew her so well, the man damn near completed her. Sometimes, Lenna couldn't even remember how her life had been before Braxton had come into it. She was so content with him. Everything else dimmed in comparison. Their days together felt like stolen time though, and when the two of them were apart, Lenna's doubts and fears rose. Once her dad found out about them, he would become a total butthead, making it completely clear how much he disapproved. It'd put a strain on everything. That was what she dreaded most: a strain heavy enough to break her and Braxton apart. 209


But there was no way they could keep their relationship a secret forever. What she had to do was sit her father down and tell him what was what. He would not interfere in her and Braxton's future together; she'd disown him if he did. Lying to her family was starting to wear on her. She wanted a normal relationship with Braxton. She wanted to be able to brag about him to her mother and take him home for Sunday suppers. She wanted the world to know he was hers. She needed to talk to her dad before he caught on. She needed to set the law as to how he could and couldn't treat the love of her life. Somehow, some way, she'd make Tom see things her way. Braxton plopped down on the bed next to her and took a huge bite of pizza only to have a string of hot cheese drip down his chin. Excited the secrets were almost over, Lenna laughed and leaned forward to lick the cheese off his chin. He murmured approvingly and bent his head to retrieve the food from her mouth. But she teasingly pulled back. Seeing a challenge where one was offered, Braxton pounced. And Lenna learned just how creative and exciting sex with food could be. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Eighteen **** Friday afternoon, Ben entered Tom's office with a solemn expression. In the midst of typing a correspondence email to a client, Tom glanced up, saw who was visiting, and promptly returned to typing. Ben was really getting on his nerves with his unrelenting quest to discover Braxton Farris's secrets. Sure, Tom wouldn't mind knowing if the boy had any more surprise business decisions hiding up his sleeve, like going international. But Ben was taking it too far when he even investigated the kid's private life. Without speaking, Ben settled into the chair across from Tom and watched him type. Tom continued to ignore him. He hoped Ben would get the hint and leave. He didn't care what kind of boss boy report his friend delivered today. Farris had probably just used the bathroom, and Ben was running around like crazy to spread the news. Yes, Braxton Farris did relieve his bladder like everyone else on earth. What a shocker. "I know who Farris took to France with him," Ben said. Tom continued to type. "Oh, yeah?" he answered, not even bothering to look interested. Ben tossed a CD onto Tom's desk; it landed on the keyboard, obstructing his typing. Tom looked up in surprise. 211


"I was snooping in Farris's computer and found this," Ben said. "Thought you should see it." Tom's eyes sprang open wide. "Are you crazy?" he hissed. "What were you doing, getting into his computer? Do you want to be fired, Ben? Good Lord." Tom wiped his hand through his hair and glanced nervously at the CD, wondering how to get the thing off his desk without touching it with his fingerprints. Ben rolled his eyes. "I know how to cover my tracks, okay? He'll never know I was in there." Then he surged to his feet and leaned over Tom's desk, his eyes gleaming with urgency. "Forget about the computer. It's not important." He snatched the CD off the keyboard and he waved it in Tom's face. "You need to look at this." "No," Tom said, shoving Ben's hand away. "I don't want to see anything you took off Farris's computer." "But they're pictures of Lenna." Tom froze. "What?" He snapped the CD out of Ben's hand. "There's hundreds of them," Ben said. "In some, she's in front of the Eiffel Tower, smiling at the camera. Some pictures have her and Farris both in the shot. Some of them were taken here in town. You name it. There are even some of her in a bed, sleeping... I'm guessing it's his bed." Ben paused and rubbed at the back of his neck uneasily. "His computer's full them, Tom." Tom stared at the disc, unable to speak. "Tell me honestly," Ben asked. "Did you know about this?"

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Tom merely transferred his frozen stare to his friend. Ben read his dazed expression and sighed as he patted Tom's shoulder. "Then I'm sorry I'm the one who had to break this to you, Bud. I hate it like hell." As soon as Tom clocked off work, he headed straight toward the home of Braxton Farris. He wasn't quite sure how he'd been able to wait until after hours, but he'd managed to keep his temper cool throughout the day. However, he'd purposely avoided running into the boy. This didn't have anything to do with business, though. It was personal. It was very personal. That slimy piece of scum had touched his baby. Nothing hit closer to home than that. He wasn't sure what to say to the back-stabbing little punk but he knew he couldn't let this slide. Lenna was his pride and joy. She didn't need someone like Farris ruining her and using her just to irritate her father. And, yes, that had to be why the kid was after her: to get back at Tom for being a belligerent employee. But what a way to hit below the belt. When Tom reached Braxton's condo, he saw Lenna's blue car parked on the curb, sitting behind Braxton's Land Rover. He didn't stop. Couldn't. It was one thing to confront the boy. He could curse and hit and much as he pleased. But not with Lenna present. Besides, he wasn't ready to face his daughter yet. She'd betrayed him. Lenna was his baby girl, his first born, and she'd turned traitor. Tom didn't care what kind of charming words Farris had used to get her into bed, she'd still given in to him. She'd 213


gone to freaking Paris with him. And she'd purposefully kept it all from Tom. The punk would pay for turning his own daughter against him. He was going to pay dearly. When Tom was through with him, he'd think twice before ever messing with a Davenport again. He just wasn't sure how to manage such a retribution yet. Jaw popping as he clenched his teeth, Tom drove home, his mind already spinning with devious ideas. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Nineteen **** By the time Sunday evening rolled around, Tom had calmed himself considerably. He was still mad, but now it was a controlled anger. Seething calculation. With still no clue as how to make Farris suffer for touching Lenna, he sat at the head of the supper table, deep in thought. Lenna sat to his left, eating quietly. Looking innocent. Glancing subtly her way, Tom clenched his fist under the table as moment of uncontrollable rage seized him. She was so good at her act. He couldn't tell at all. By looking at her, he couldn't guess she saw Braxton Farris behind his back. He wondered how long she'd been seeing the boy and therefore deceiving her own father. The back-stabbing little— Needing to calm himself, he lifted his gaze toward his wife, and immediately, his muscles loosened. God, he loved the relaxing effect Maxine had on him. Softening toward her, he smiled. "Supper's excellent tonight, dear." Maxine looked up and blinked. For this family, it was a typical, average meal of fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, peas, and hot rolls. "Well," she said, blushing, making guilt grow because he obviously didn't compliment her enough. "Thank you." Then 215


she gave him a suspicious look. "What's gotten you into such a good mood?" He shrugged, not daring to glance Lenna's way. He was tempted to say something nasty like, "It's just nice to know some members of my family aren't sleeping with my boss behind my back," but he kept his mouth stuffed with potatoes. His wife, however, pressed the issue. "Work must be going better for you, I guess." Unable to help himself, Tom glanced sideways at Lenna. She merely picked up a drumstick and pulled a piece of chicken off the bone with her teeth as if she wasn't listening to every word he was about to say about his work. "Dare I hope this means you're finally starting to get along with Braxton?" Maxine asked. The back of Tom's teeth clenched together. He didn't want to hear that name. Shooting another look Lenna's way, he was even more enraged when she didn't even bat an eyelash at the mention of her precious boyfriend. "Actually," Tom said, grinding his molars, "he's eased up on us in the last couple of weeks. I think it's that new girlfriend he has." From the corner of his eye, Tom saw Lenna's head lift. Well, well. That got her attention. "Braxton has a girlfriend?" Maxine asked with an arch of her eyebrows. "How do you know?" "Oh, Ben found out about it. He's good at discovering that kind of information." When no one—namely Lenna—reacted, he continued. "I guess when the boy went to Paris a couple 216


weeks ago, he took her along. When he got back, he went over his expense receipts with his secretary and paid out-ofpocket for a second breakfast in his room." Dying to know how his daughter was reacting to that, Tom nonchalantly peeked over. She'd stopped eating with such gusto, and her face had paled. He almost snickered. "Oh, my," Maxine said, blushing and covering her mouth with her hand. "That sounds serious." "Oh, I don't know," Tom murmured. He wanted to reach over and strangle Lenna. She wasn't going to confess. The little brat wasn't going to say a word. His jaw bunched and his pulse spiked; Tom forced a smile toward his wife. "Though he did send her two dozen roses the other day," he said. "Roses are nice." Maxine nodded in approval. Beside Tom, Lenna sucked in a breath, then snatched up her cup and took a long drink. Braxton had never sent anyone flowers that Tom had heard of, but at his daughter's response, an inspirational idea struck him. What if she thought the boy was cheating on her? Would it be enough to break them apart? Hell, it was worth a shot. At the very least, it would plant a seed. Unable to stop himself, he blurted out, "He's brought her around the office a few times. I think he likes to show her off." Lenna choked on the iced tea she was gulping. "Why?" Aaron wanted to know. "Is she hot?" 217


Tom could've hugged his son. "Oh, sure," he said readily. "She's a pretty little thing. Short and petite with long, dark hair. Of course, the redhead he had right before her, last week, was better looking, in my opinion. Now, that one had really big..." He started to cup his chest before he remembered his wife and youngest daughter were also present. "Tom!" Maxine scolded, glaring accusingly. "It's a woman's character that's important. Don't you dare go teaching our son the size of one's... anatomy has anything to do with it." "Sorry," Tom mumbled. "But it's not my fault my boss goes through more pretty women than some people go through toilet paper." He looked fully at Lenna then. Head bowed, she pushed her mashed potatoes across her plate with her fork, but didn't eat. Her face had drained completely of color, the skin over her cheeks strained taut and tense. She looked hurt, when he'd been expecting anger. He regretted stinging her pride, but Tom couldn't drag up enough guilt to feel remorse. Humph. It served her right for betraying her own father. After Lenna left, Tom burrowed himself in his office, shutting the door and booting up his computer. He hadn't had the guts to look at the pictures before, but he did so now. Slipping the disc into his computer, he braced for the worst. When the first picture popped up, he let out a sigh of relief. He'd expected to see Braxton Farris doing something tawdry to his darling baby girl. But the picture only showed 218


the interior of a hotel room—a fancy hotel room. The next couple of shots were of that same room. Some were of the suite's bathroom, some its sitting area, some of the ceiling and floor. Finally, the pictures moved outside. Tom could tell it was a foreign country—when he got to the Eiffel tower, he assumed it was Paris. He followed the sightseeing tour for a couple of minutes longer before a shot of Braxton popped onto the screen. Farris was entering the hotel room, wearing his normal work suit and carrying a briefcase. He appeared to be taken by surprise as if the photographer had snapped his mug shot as soon as he'd opened the door. From there, things went downhill. Lenna was in more of the pictures, yet so was Farris. Sometimes, they'd both be in the same frame as if either Braxton or Lenna was holding the camera out to capture the two of them together. Tom was able to see their entire day together in France, from their boat ride on the Seine to watching Lenna buy fruit at the market. In one group of photos, they stood in front of a fountain, huddling close together. They must've had someone else take a picture of them because Tom could see Braxton sling his arm comfortably around Lenna's waist and Lenna rest her head on his shoulder. The two were grinning at the camera like they were on their honeymoon. Tom very nearly smiled. She looked so happy, he could tell she had loved the trip. Jesus, she'd always wanted to go to 219


Paris. And that jerk had taken her. Clenching his hands, Tom forced himself to flip through each and every shot. After a dozen more, they changed from the vacation scene; Tom found himself gazing at his sleeping daughter. She was in her own apartment, looking pure and innocent as she lay among her own sheets and pillows, blissfully dreaming. Swallowing, Tom paused on the first shot. Lenna was probably naked, but the way she slept on her stomach, with the sheets pulled halfway up her spine, he couldn't see anything x-rated. Only the top half of her back and her bare shoulders were exposed. Her light hair fluttered out and covered most of the exposed flesh. He could see half her face as she slept, unaware she was getting photographed. Tom could only imagine what had been going through Farris's head when he'd taken this picture. She was a beautiful girl, looked exactly like Maxine had at that age. But at that age, Maxine had been married for three years and was pregnant with Lenna. Tom's insides clenched. Oh, God. He didn't want this. He could not have his daughter dating his boss. How could he show his face at work? Everyone would stare at him and talk about him behind his back. Lenna and Farris together? No. No way. He focused on the picture of her sleeping, and his hands balled tight. He wanted to strangle Braxton Farris. He wanted to drive back to the kid's house right that minute and break through his front door to pummel him into oblivion. 220


"Do you want to talk about it?" came a voice from the doorway. Jerking his eyes from the computer screen, Tom found Maxine in the doorway. After a quick, guilty click on the miniaturize button to erase Lenna's picture from the screen, Tom met Maxine's eyes. "Talk about what?" "Whatever is going on between you and Lenna." She sent him a knowing look. He sighed and closed his eyes. Hell, of course she sensed a disturbance in the family. That was one of the reasons he loved this woman so much. But, no. God, no, he didn't want to talk about it. If he told Maxine the truth, she'd probably say something practical like, "You know, darling. Lenna is an adult now. She can date whomever she wants." Then she'd go and lecture him, probably exiling him to the couch—if not the garage—for doing what he'd done. Tom wasn't one to keep secrets from his wife. But there was no way he'd show her the pictures. She'd take one look at their daughter sleeping and she'd see exactly what Tom refused to admit he saw. The person who'd taken that picture had to be crazy about Lenna. It made him sick to his stomach. He could not accept this. He would not. Meeting Maxine's patient gaze, he sent her a sad smile. "I miss the days when she was five and did everything I told her." 221


She smiled softly and came into his office, setting her arm on his shoulder and rubbing a sore muscle there. "Well, she's not five anymore," she answered, making Tom want to roll his eyes. How did he know she was going to say that? But then she surprised him by sympathetically adding, "I know how difficult this is for you." He lifted his gaze, and then closed his eyes as she drew his face toward her stomach. He wrapped an arm around her waist and soaked in her comforting embrace. "It's not easy for me either," she admitted. "I don't think it can ever be easy, having to give your child up to the world. But she needs to live her own life now, Thomas. We can't live it for her." Tom listened to her words and understood them. He even agreed with them on some practical level. But he couldn't make himself obey. His daughter was an adult. Sure, okay. She made her own choices about the men in her life. Fine. He knew he should respect her decisions. He never should've interfered. But he couldn't make himself regret what he'd done. There was no way he could ever condone Braxton Farris's pursuit of his little girl. "I hope you know what you're doing," Maxine whispered, making him shudder and close his eyes. God, he hoped he did too. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty **** Lenna wasn't sure what she wanted to do first, curl into a ball and cry, or confront Braxton and kick the piss out of him. He'd lied to her. She'd suspected another woman in Paris, but she'd been stupid in love and had talked herself out of the notion. It was true, though. She couldn't reject the facts now. He'd been seeing other people all along. And here, she'd been ready to tell her father the entire truth tonight. The betrayal that tore through her made her hands shake and her breathing escalate. Braxton had cheated on her... and not just with one girl. He'd been with a lot, from the sound of it. She realized nothing she'd ever shared with him meant anything. All the times they'd been together, all the nights they'd curled in bed and held each other 'til dawn... it was meaningless. That's what hurt the most. As she approached his brownstone, her heart thumped against her ribcage. A black mustang sat parked in front of his place. Oh, God, there was someone with him right now. She'd just caught him in the act. Lenna's fingers turned to ice. She was tempted to keep driving. But, no. She had to do this. She had to see his deceit with her own eyes. 223


She parked at the curb across the street and stayed in her car for a second to steady her breathing. Didn't help. In fact, the more she thought about him in there with a busty little brunette, the more distressed she became. Tears threatened; she decided she'd better act now before they started. Straightening her spine, she squared her shoulders and pushed out of the car. As soon as she reached his door, she'd already fisted and lifted her trembling hand, ready to pound. It took him almost a minute to answer. Wondering if he was taking so long because he had to put his clothes on, she pressed her palm to her quaking stomach. The door opened; her eyes flashed over his attire, but nothing appeared to have been thrown on in haste. He was in nice jeans, a long sleeve shirt, and even wore shoes. To Lenna, he looked magnificent. That hurt too, that he could look so lovable and handsome while he so ruthlessly stabbed her in the back and saw other women. "Lenna," he gasped and then smiled, stepping toward her. The jerk actually smiled at her. "What're you doing here? It's Sunday. Didn't you go to your family's tonight?" Lenna evaded him before he could touch her. He halted and blinked. "Lenna?" She bit down on the back of her teeth so hard she could hear them creak under the strain. Hands fisted down at her side, she hissed, "I just came to tell you what a vile piece of scum I think you are." 224


"What?" His mouth fell open; the breath whooshed from his lungs. "I did go my parents' house tonight. And the entire evening, I had to sit there and listen to my father talk on and on about all the different women you parade through your office." "What?" he said again. Then he shook his head. "No." After crinkling his bow, he let out an incredulous laugh. "Lenna..." He reached for her once more. She jerked back. "Don't even try to deny it." He snorted and finally scowled. "Hell, yes, I'm going to deny that. It's a damn lie. The only woman that's even seen the inside of my office since I started at Farris is my secretary, who's gotta be close to seventy years old." "Oh, yeah? Then whose car is that?" Lenna folded her arms across her chest and sketched and eyebrow. He glanced at the mustang, and his frown deepened. "It's my brother's. You want to meet him?" "Um, hi," a voice—a male voice—came from behind him. Lenna couldn't help but look. The guy was definitely Braxton's brother, but he was shorter and stouter with short, close-cropped hair. "This is Tyler," Braxton stated. "Tyler, Lenna." "It's, ah, nice to meet you," Tyler Farris said. "I guess." She couldn't answer. She couldn't even nod in acknowledgement. Her eyes filled with tears. Spinning away, she hurried toward her car. "Whoa." Braxton shot out his door after her. He caught her arm and whirled her around. "What the hell?" 225


"Get your hands off me," she spat and tugged her wrist away. "Lenna. Jesus. Where is this coming from? What's going on?" "What's going on?" she repeated as she spun back to glare. "What's going on? You're cheating on me, you piece of slime. You're—" "No, I'm not," he growled. When she could only glare at him, he hissed out a curse and ran his hands through his hair. "What exactly did your dad tell you?" Unable to look into his beautiful, lying eyes, Lenna turned, wrapped her arms over her stomach and muttered, "He talked about the brunette you sent two dozen roses and the redhead you brought to work—" "Redhead? Roses? No." Shaking his head, he repeated, "No, I don't know what he's talking about. I haven't sent anyone flowers since my mother's birthday last October. I wasn't even working at Farris then. Those were carnations too, not roses. I don't... He's lying, Lenna. You're the only—" "My father doesn't lie," Lenna barked, her back stiffening. "Well, he did," Braxton retorted. She ground her hands into her hips. "Why would he lie about this?" "Hell, how should I know? He's your—" Suddenly, his eyes cleared. "Shit. He must know about us." "What?" Lenna said. "No. He doesn't know." Braxton nodded. "He has to. Lenna, there's no other explanation." 226


"Just give it up, Braxton." Her voice cracked as she spoke; another trickle of tears started down her cheek. He saw them and his face changed, softened. "Lenna," he whispered, his eyes pleading. "How could I cheat on you? Just think about that, will you? When would I even have the time? If I'm not at work, I'm with you. The only day I really can't see you is Sunday and, obviously, I spend that with my freaking brother." Remembering the night she'd sat on his porch waiting an hour for him to get home, she shook her head, denying. Instead of mentioning it, though, she insisted, "He doesn't know. And even if he did, he wouldn't do this. My dad's too direct. He would never try some underhanded manipu—" "Oh, come on. The man hates my guts. I think this sounds exactly like something he'd do." Lenna stomped her foot. "Don't talk about my dad that way." Braxton lifted his hands to his forehead and then buried his fingers in his hair as he stared at her. His frustration was so tangible she could taste it in the air. "Why can't you believe me?" When his voice wavered, her resolve did too. She wanted to apologize for having no trust. She wanted to go to him and hold him, telling him how sorry she was. But why would her father lie to her? To the entire family? "What about Paris?" she asked. "You lied about that gift you bought." He let out a degrading snort, and his eyes watered. Then his chin trembled. "You know what? I did lie about that stupid 227


picture. It wasn't for my sister. So, doesn't that tell you how bad of a liar I am? Doesn't that tell you I'm speaking the truth now?" More tears flooded Lenna's lashes and she quickly reached up to wipe them away. "Then who was it for?" Braxton's mouth dropped. He stared until his eyes went hard, and his mouth went flat. "Tell me something, Lenna. Why should I bother with the truth? It's not like you're going to believe me anyway. Not when your precious daddy says otherwise." She started to counter him, but he quickly added, "Since the moment I first laid eyes on you, I haven't been able to look at another woman, much less think about sleeping with someone else. You're a fool if you think I have." "No," she hissed. "I was a fool to ever get involved with you." Spinning away, she strode toward her car and hopped into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind her. As she started her engine and peeled out of her parking spot, she risked a glance in the rear view mirror. He stood in the middle of the street, staring after her. The tears came in a rush then. She could barely see where she was driving. "Oh, God," she sobbed. She'd fallen in love with Braxton Farris and now it was over. As Braxton watched her leave, he knew she was carrying a part of his soul away with her. He wanted to chase her down 228


and force her to believe him. Then again, he'd like to chase her down to wring her pretty little neck. But, cheating? Ha! The idea that he was actually capable of stepping out on her was so laughable he let out a sour cackle. Was she insane? He was in love with her. He loved her more than he'd ever loved any woman. He couldn't even look at another female without comparing her to Lenna. How dare she? How dare she accuse him of such a thing? How could she believe her father— Wait a second. Her father. Tom had to know about them. That was the only explanation. But how in the hell had he found out? What in God's name could've tipped him off? Braxton could only figure Tom had learned at work somehow. But how? Braxton didn't have anything sitting out in his office with Lenna's name on it. He didn't have her picture— Oh, Lord. Her picture. His computer was full of those pictures he'd copied off her camera's memory card. But how would Tom have gotten onto his computer? Braxton had passwords set. Okay, no, he didn't have a hi-tech security protection on his office computer. But he honestly hadn't thought someone would ever try to break into it. Still, there was no way Tom—of all people—could've gotten past his passwords. 229


"Brax?" Tyler's voice came from behind him. Braxton spun around and realized he was standing stupidly in the middle of the street. "You okay?" his brother asked. Braxton glanced in the direction Lenna had fled. "I have to go," he murmured and started toward his Land Rover. Curious to find out exactly what had been done in his office, Braxton drove to Farris Industries at nine o'clock on a Sunday night. He hurried through the empty building until he reached his office. Seating himself at his desk, he fidgeted as he watched his computer boot. As soon as he logged on, he could tell someone had been snooping. It hadn't been Tom, but whoever it was must've shown him Lenna's pictures. His face heating with indignation, Braxton used his computer knowledge to decipher exactly when and where his cyber-guest had gone. What he found left him sick to his stomach. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-One **** Tom Davenport walked into work Monday morning, having no idea what the day would bring. Though he refused to regret lying to Lenna, he still feared the repercussions. Farris was a punk, but he wasn't stupid. He'd figure out Tom knew the truth... that was, if Lenna had dumped him yet. But knowing his girl, she'd already visited the kid and stomped all over his nuts. Strolling slowly toward his office, Tom almost expected a pink slip waiting on his desk. But he never made it to the room. On the way, an anxious Ben intercepted him, grabbing his arm and yanking him aside. "What the hell did you do to Farris?" Tom froze. "Why?" "He's called an emergency meeting this morning," Ben hissed. "He wants everyone in the conference room... immediately. Dear God, Tom. You didn't tell him I snuck onto his computer, did you?" "No. God, no." Tom drew in a deep breath. "What's the meeting about?" Ben could only shake his head. "No one knows. But Tasha said he looks furious." Even more on edge, Tom changed his course and moved toward the conference room. He wondered if this had anything to do with Lenna. Lord, he hoped not. He did not 231


want the boy to announce he was screwing Tom's daughter. God, anything but that. Fearing publicity and termination, Tom entered the room and was shocked to find Spencer Farris seated to the right hand side of the head spot at the table. It was a surprise to see his former boss in the first place, but to see Spencer anywhere other than the lead chair was even more disconcerting. Pat Foley walked in behind Tom and also halted when he spotted Spencer. But Pat grinned at their former boss instead of sending him the sickened I'm-going-to-lose-my-job-aren'tI look Tom gave him. "Couldn't handle retirement, huh?" Pat asked. Spencer merely chuckled. "To tell the truth, I have no idea why I'm here. Braxton asked me to come as a consultant. I'm just as clueless as to what he has planned as everyone else." On cue, Braxton appeared in the doorway. Talk in the room died as soon as everyone saw the stony expression on his face. Glancing around, Braxton shut the door and strode to the front of the large conference table. Tom couldn't breathe so well. Braxton tossed a file he'd carried in with him onto the table and remained standing as he glared accusingly around him. "Someone's been hacking into my processor," he said without preamble. "And I want to know who." Silence cloaked the room; a person could've heard a pin drop. The employees looked at each other, confused. Tom's face drained of color. He itched to glance toward Ben, see 232


how his friend was holding up, but didn't dare. Ben would be fired if Farris found out it'd been Hendricks. Braxton waited another moment before adding, "We're not leaving until someone confesses, and I know someone in this room did it." Tom's mind filled with the pictures he'd seen of Lenna and how Braxton had gazed at her in them. Taking the largest risk of his life, he slowly stood. Everyone gaped at him, including Braxton. The boy gave him a slight shake of the head, cautioning him not to act. But Tom ignored the warning. He looked Farris in the eye and said, "I did it." Braxton's jaw tightened. Tom swallowed, hoping to God the boy was as crazy about his daughter as he suspected. "Everyone else... out." Braxton said, his gaze drilling into Tom's. The room cleared in record time. The only three people left inside of thirty seconds were Tom, Braxton, and Spencer. Tom eyed Spencer, but his old boss was busy studying his son with a thoughtful look. Braxton waited until the door closed before he took a seat. Then he sat directly across from Tom, folding his hands on the table and lifting his somber gaze. Tom swallowed. He grew an unexpected and abrupt respect for this man. All thoughts that this was just some young, inexperienced kid flew out the window. Braxton Farris vibrated with power and authority. He could crush Tom and ruin his life. Twenty plus years of work were about to slosh right down the drain. 233


But instead, Braxton's voice was laced with doubt as he said, "You hacked into my computer?" Tom nodded, even as he realized standing up for Ben might've been the stupidest thing he'd ever done. "How do you think I found out about you and Lenna?" he said to make it sound authentic. "I found her picture everywhere when I logged in." Tom glanced at Spencer again, but the older man didn't bat an eyelash when Lenna was mentioned. Braxton nodded. "I figured you knew about that." Farris studied his hands a moment where he had them laced tightly together on the tabletop. Then he moistened his lips and raised his eyes. He chuckled softly. It was very nearly an evil, menacing sound. "I also figured the only way you could've found out was by seeing those pictures. And that's why I came to work last night at nine o'clock to see exactly what had been taken off my computer." He frowned; his jaw went hard. "I didn't like what I found, Tom." Just when Tom thought he was going to wet himself, Braxton softened and actually smiled... though it wasn't a happy smile. "After the lies you told Lenna and the way she broke up with me, I'm already in a bad mood. In fact, right now, I'd like nothing better than to watch you suffer considerably." Tom's face drained of color and Braxton continued, "So, you see, Tom, it's almost like... providence...you stroll in here today and confess a thing like this to me." Opening his hand, 234


he looked down at his empty palm. "You just handed me a reason—a very good reason—to fire you." Balling his fingers into a fist, Braxton pressed it against the top of the table and stared at Tom so intently, the fury rolled off him in waves, splashing across the table in a drenching monsoon. "It's too damn bad that's personal and this is business. Otherwise, you'd be gone." Tom was so scared, he couldn't even swallow. Hoarsely, he asked, "So, you're not going to fire me?" "Well..." Braxton actually looked thoughtful. Tom swallowed his tongue. Shit, he was going to lose his job. After twenty-five years of giving his life to Farris, he was going to lose his position... for confessing something he hadn't even done. Glancing at a pen on the table, Braxton slowly rolled it across the desktop, from one hand to the other. When he finally glanced up, Tom thought he was going to suffer from a massive heart attack. The anxiety was killing him. God, he was too old to handle such an extreme level of apprehension. "If I truly believed you were the one who was in my computer, then yeah, you'd be gone," Braxton said. Tom's eyes flashed wide with hope. That "if" word sounded promising. "As it is," Braxton added, sighing wearily and rubbing at his face. "The fact that I know you're lying royally ticks me off." He narrowed his eyes. "But then, you're an excellent liar, aren't you... Tom?"

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Tom licked his dry lips. "What makes you so sure I'm lying? I wanted to know what you were up to just as much as everyone else around here." Braxton shook his head. "It's not a question of wouldn't. It's couldn't. You're a relic on the computer, Tom. Sure, you've learned the basics. You do what you have to do, but other than that, you'd rather not mess with that kind of technology." Tom didn't see how that meant he couldn't snoop on Braxton's computer. Like the kid said, he did what he had to do. He could turn his processor on and log in— Suddenly comprehending, his eyes flashed to Braxton's. Braxton nodded to confirm. "You don't know enough to get into the files this person hacked into. You aren't that clever. Whoever broke in went through passwords. They cracked encrypted codes, found back doors. You may be an intelligent man, but you aren't PC savvy." "Well, you're wrong," Tom said, not knowing why he bothered. Hell, Farris was right; everyone knew it. He knew nothing about getting by passwords. Braxton sighed. "I'm not wrong." Tom swallowed, more scared than he'd ever been. He kept thinking about the mortgage he owed. The car loans. The two kids he still had to get through college. He was going to lose his insurance, his home, everything. If he lost his job, his life as he knew it would be finished. "Fine," Braxton said on a short nod of the head. "You say you broke into my computer. Then prove it." Tom frowned. "What?" 236


"Tell me where you went. Tell me what you copied. Tell me when you did it." He lifted the file in his hand. "I've got the facts right here. I know when, and I know what was taken." Tom paused. Oh, shit. Braxton shook his head, looking disappointed. "You can't tell me," he said, "because you didn't do it. You know who did though, and they gotta be close enough to you they gave you the heads up about Lenna and me. They probably even gave you all her pictures they copied." Tom's face drained of color; his breathing went shallow. For the first time in his life, he thought he was going to pass out. "Who was it?" Braxton said. "Charlie? Ben? Pat? I know it was one of your good buddies. They've kept quiet about Lenna in loyalty to you; otherwise that news would already be spread through the office as the biggest piece of hot gossip yet." Tom said nothing. "Whoever it was also copied some very sensitive information, information that, if sold to a competitor, would put Farris in a very vulnerable position." Tom shook his head, denying. No. Ben would never sell out Farris. He'd been with the company for almost as long as Tom had. He wouldn't believe it of his friend. "Believe it," Braxton said. He leaned over the table toward Tom. "Someone printed out bank account information and stock numbers. If that's used against us, it could hurt 237


everyone in the company. Are you seriously going to protect a traitor? A thief?" "I'm sorry," Tom croaked. "I can't tell you." Braxton's eyes filled with bitter disappointment as he fell back into his chair. "Then you're suspended. Effective immediately. You have thirty minutes to pass your workload along to other people; then I want you off Farris property." Tom's breath shuddered from his lungs. "Until when?" he managed to ask. Braxton shrugged as if unconcerned. "Until you tell me who. Or until he comes forward. Or until I find our culprit on my own. Whichever comes first." Tom glanced one last time at Braxton's father. Spencer Farris shook his head. "Don't look at me, Tom. I would've fired you." Swallowing, Tom nodded. He glanced one more time at Braxton before he fled. When it was father and son alone in the conference room, Braxton buried his face in his hands. When he felt his father's stare, he glanced up. "So, I should fire him?" Spencer shrugged. "That's totally your decision to make, son. It's your company." Which didn't answer the question at all. He closed his eyes and tapped a fist against his forehead. "But you think I made the wrong decision?" he pressed. "Not necessarily. Tom's been a loyal employee for twentyfive years. He has a lot of history with Farris. Firing someone like him would cost the company a hefty price. But if it were me he'd lied to, and taking into account the fact I've worked 238


with him longer than you have, I would've felt more betrayed by his behavior just now. Actually, I feel betrayed enough as it is. That he would do something like this to my son; I'd just like to go out there and..." When he surged to his feet, fists balled, Braxton did as well. "Dad!" But Spencer merely began to pace the room. "It's probably a good thing you had to deal with this, now that I think of it. You can view this from an unbiased standpoint. You were able to keep a level head today, Braxton. I'm proud of you. You were able to handle your employee in a professional, impartial manner." When Braxton snorted and shook his head, his dad finally paused to ask, "Why didn't you fire him?" Braxton closed his eyes and sighed. "Because I'm in love with his daughter." Spencer plopped back into his chair. After a moment of open-mouthed gaping, he finally said, "Oh. Is that who Lenna is? I knew she looked familiar when we met, but now that I think of it, she's the spitting image of her mother, Maxine." Too flabbergasted by his father's blase attitude, Braxton could do nothing but fall into his own chair. After shaking his head, he laughed, and laughed some more. It seemed like the only way to relieve the anguish and pain swarming inside him. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-Two **** Lenna discovered her father's suspension the next day. She dreaded approaching Farris Industries, but it was the second Tuesday of the month. She couldn't not meet her dad or he'd wonder why. Since he didn't know about her and Braxton—and she didn't care what Braxton thought, her father didn't know—then she couldn't explain to him why she didn't want to go anywhere near the cheating jerk's workplace. It'd been less than two days and she missed Braxton. If she wasn't at work, she was at home, crying. Sometimes, she even cried at work. Greg had called her into his office, concerned, but she couldn't tell him what a snake his best friend was. She couldn't talk about it with anyone. Appearing confident as she breezed through the front door, Lenna kept out an eagle eye for Braxton as she strode purposely toward her father's office. But she encountered Ben Hendricks before she reached the third-floor corner office. He fell to a surprised halt. "L-Lenna? What're you doing here?" "I'm meeting Dad for lunch," she said. "I do every second Tuesday of the month." The older man blinked. "But d-don't you know?" 240


She frowned. "Know what?" The first skitter of alarm raced up her spine. Ben licked his lips and darted his eyes down the hall before saying, "Tom... well, Tom was suspended yesterday." Heart plopping into the base of her stomach, Lenna gaped. "What? Why?" Ben's face turned a bright, flushing red, and suddenly she knew. She'd dumped Braxton, and he'd gone after her dad. She could tell Ben knew too by the way he wouldn't meet her eyes. "Excuse me," she said stiffly, brushing by him to storm down the hall. She went straight to the executive office. As she approached the double oak doors that led into Braxton's workspace, she barely glanced at the secretary guarding the entrance. The seventy-year-old woman with styled gray hair was on the phone, but she quickly put her hand over the receiver as Lenna charged closer. "Hello," she said with a pleasant smile. "May I help—" "Is Mr. Farris in?" Lenna asked, never breaking stride and heading determinedly toward those two doors. "Yes, but... Wait!" The secretary hopped to her feet, but she wasn't even around her desk by the time Lenna yanked opened a door. Braxton sat at his desk with a pen stuck in his mouth as he simultaneously typed on his computer and studied a sheet of paper in front of him. He glanced up when she entered, and the pen dropped unnoticed from his teeth. "Len—" 241


"You bastard," she hissed, fisting her hands. Braxton popped to his feet. Glancing behind her, he said, "Tasha, shut the door." Lenna didn't notice the secretary's hasty retreat or the sound of the handle clicking behind her. She advanced toward Braxton as he leaped out from behind his desk. He was so beautiful and distinguished-looking here in his office, a fresh wave of agony washed through her. This man had made her fall for him and then he'd betrayed her. To top that off, he'd gone after her father. Her father. Letting the fury inside her take over, Lenna poked him in the chest with her finger. "How could you do this to him? What is wrong with you? Don't you have a soul? Your company is all he's ever known." Braxton cut in with a weary sigh and lifted his hands. "Lenna, please don't. I don't want to fight with you. What happened yesterday between Tom and me was business. It had nothing to do with you." She snorted. "Whatever. How can you expect me to believe that on the very day after I break up with you, my father, who's been with your company for twenty-five years, did something to warrant being suspended?" Arching her brows, she folded her arms over her chest. "Isn't that a little convenient for you?" "Convenient?" He sputtered. "Yeah, right." "You're a snake, do you know that? I thought you were better than this. I thought you would be able to keep our personal relationship away from your job. But, obviously—" 242


He grabbed her arm, cutting her off as he pulled her close. "Listen to me. This had nothing to do with you. I swear it." She yanked herself free. "Then what did he do that was so wrong?" He opened his mouth; no words came out. She tapped her foot against the floor. "What?" "I... I can't tell you." "Why not?" "Because it's work," he said, his eyes begging her to believe him. "No," she countered. "It's because of me. You hurt him because I wounded your stupid pride." "Damn it," he told her. "It's because I don't want to be the asshole who clued you in to the fact your darling father isn't as wonderful as you think he is." Lenna drew back. "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means he lied to me," he exploded. "I was forced to do what I did. God, I should've fired him. There's no way I'll ever be able to trust him as an employee again after this. He's lucky to get off with a mere suspension. The man looked me straight in the eye and told me a bald-faced lie, Lenna." "Oh, here we go again," she railed. "How many times do I have to tell you, Thomas Davenport doesn't lie. He's too straightforward. You're the one who's lying." "And how many times do I have to tell you?" he countered. "I can't lie worth crap." Lenna hugged herself tighter while Braxton growled out an impatient sound and turned away, running his fingers through his hair. An impasse of silence passed for a good ten seconds. 243


Finally, he let out a long, tired sigh. "It doesn't matter what I say to you. You're not going to believe me. If you can honestly think I'd see anyone behind your back, then there's no way you'll—" "You know what?" Lenna snapped, not wanting to think about Braxton with other women. "My father was right about you. You got a plateful you couldn't handle when you fell into this job." Braxton eyes flashed hot in warning. She knew she hit a nerve; that's why she pushed. "Everything you know about Farris Industries couldn't fill his pinky finger." He clenched his teeth into a furious snarl before grabbing her hand and yanking her close. "One of these days, Lenna," he hissed. "You're going to learn how wrong you are about me. And when that time comes, don't even think about crawling your way back into my life." He let go of her at the same moment she jerked away. The glare he sent her had her insides cringing as she stumbled a step back. It made her briefly wonder if she was wrong, if maybe her father wasn't what she'd thought he'd been for the past twenty-two years of her life. Realizing she'd probably just made the biggest mistake of her life, she backed toward the door, staring at Braxton with wide eyes. He glared back, features hardened, jaw tight. Turning swiftly, she hurried from his office. As soon as she was gone, Braxton's knees gave out. He crumpled to the floor, sitting with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, and his back braced against the side of his mahogany desk. 244


She was gone. It didn't seem real. Telling himself to get up and return to his desk, Braxton stayed rooted on the floor. He combed his hair with shaking fingers and blew out a breath. This was not the time to lose it. He was at work and needed to get himself together. But whenever he tried to focus, his thoughts went haywire. All he saw was Lenna glaring at him, Lenna turning her back, Lenna striding out the door. No, he couldn't think about that. He had to concentrate here. Though, oh God, he was starting to hyperventilate. He could've told her the truth. He'd wanted to tell her. But what would that accomplish? She'd go to her father, force the truth from him; then she and Tom would be on the out and outs. As much as Braxton would love to see that man get his just deserts, he couldn't do it to Lenna. Tom was her father. He'd always be her father. And no matter how much Braxton loved her, her dad would always be between them in some form or another. From the corner of his eye, he saw movement. Lenna. She'd come back? Forgetting all noble thoughts of letting her go, his head snapped up. Fully prepared to crawl toward her, wrap his arms around her legs and beg her to believe him, he focused on the woman. Tasha peeked her face into his office, her eyes wide; he knew she'd heard every word. Overtaken by an uncontrolled fury, he glowered. 245


This was not the life he'd chosen. This was not what he wanted. If he'd had his way, he never would've come to Farris. He'd still be at ProTech. He'd been happy at ProTech. Content. Yet, here he sat, having a breakdown on the floor of his father's office, all because a freak turn of events had taken complete control of his life. He trembled as he huddled into himself, blowing on his balled fists like he was freezing. Tasha gave a timid clearing of the throat. "Boss?" "Shut the Goddamn door!" he yelled. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-Three **** Ben Hendricks plopped into the chair across from Tom's desk in his den. "So, how long am I going to owe you for what you did for me?" He didn't sound like his usual jovial self, but subdued and apologetic... which was good, since Tom probably would've strangled his friend if he tried cracking a joke about their predicament. It'd been five days since his suspension and Farris hadn't called him back yet. "Oh, you're going to owe for the rest of your life," Tom said. Ben's shoulders slumped as a long sigh eased from his lungs. "Thought so." He lifted his face. "How long is this suspension thing supposed to last?" Tom shrugged. "Until Farris cools down, I guess." "Well, I can't thank you enough for what you did for me, Tom. You saved my butt, big time. If there's anything I can ever do for you in return..." Tom's eyes narrowed. "You can tell me why you copied sensitive information off Braxton's computer... information that could hurt everyone at Farris." Ben's bushy eyebrows rose, then lowered into a confused frown. "Say what?" Tom repeated what Braxton had told him about the things that had been taken from his terminal. 247


"Hey, that wasn't me," Ben insisted, leaping to his feet. "The only thing I took was those pictures of Lenna so I could give them to you. I swear it. I'm no traitor. I would never—" "Then who took the information?" Tom snapped, jerking to his feet as well. "I don't know," Ben muttered. "But you've got to believe me. Farris Industries is as important to me as it is to you. I would never do anything to hurt the company." Closing his eyes, Tom nodded and let out a sigh. "I'm sorry," he finally said, scrubbing his face with both hands. "I knew you would never do anything like that. I'm just... I'm sorry." Ben's slumped back into his chair. He sat quietly, staring at his hands in his lap for a moment before he changed the subject. "So, I guess Lenna and... ah... Farris broke up, huh?" Tom frowned. "Why do you say that?" Had word finally gotten out at the office about Lenna and Braxton's affair? Ben's eyes lit. "Well, this week," he started, obviously eager to spread gossip, "Boss Boy gave Tasha a bag from Tiffany's Jewelry Store and asked her to return it for him. She, of course, had to look inside first. There was a ring box in there, Tom." Ben paused significantly. But Tom already suspected the worst. He wasn't even surprised when Ben added, "And a woman's engagement ring was in the box." Tom's knees gave out. He had to sink back into his chair. "Good Lord," he muttered, fisting his hand against his mouth. 248


"Everyone knows about the ring," Ben went on. "They're all wondering who she was. And Farris..." Ben blew out a breath. "That boy growls around the place like a bear with a hurt paw. Anyone with eyes in their head that can see he's sore over... well... everything. It's made everyone else all the more eager to find out what woman broke his heart." Tom suddenly felt very sick. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his desk. "I didn't tell them about Lenna though," Ben said. "I wouldn't do that to you." "Thanks," Tom managed to choke out. "I appreciate it." Ben fell quiet a moment before he said, "I kind of feel bad for him." Tom lifted his face. Ben winced, apologizing with his gaze. Tom's gut burned, his irritation mounted. "Why the hell do you feel sorry for him?" Though, oh God, he knew. He couldn't blame Ben either. Ben shrugged and couldn't quite meet Tom's gaze. "He looks awful, Tom. I mean, even... even besides the whole ring thing... all you have to do is see his face, and you can tell he's miserable." "Oh, give me a break," Tom muttered, though now he couldn't meet his friend's gaze either. "I'm serious," Ben insisted. "Farris has changed this last week. He's moody and short with everyone and bound and determined to find the computer culprit. The kid's out for blood, I'm telling you. No one, no one is brave enough to approach him anymore." 249


He sat back in his chair and let out a breath as he swiped a hand over his brow. "I was really sweating bullets there for a while. When I thought it was me he was after. But now that I know someone else was on his computer, I—I feel like I might have a chance to keep my job." "What are you talking about," Tom asked in confusion. "How could he find out? I'm not going to tell—" "Oh, he'll find out," Ben said with certainty. "He's making charts, for the love of God, noting when everyone was in and out of the office. He's narrowing the list. No one is above suspicion in his eyes, Tom. No one." Tom fell quiet. Ben continued talking, updating him on minor issues, but Tom didn't pay much attention. His thoughts returned to his daughter. Braxton had bought her a ring. Feeling a migraine coming on, Tom cradled his head in his hand and muttered, "God damn it." The next Friday, two weeks after he'd suspended Tom from Farris Industries, Braxton called Davenport into the office for a talk. He would've preferred to do anything except speak to Lenna's father. Get his wisdom teeth cut out, pass a kidney stone, be burned at the stake... He didn't want to see Tom again for as long as he lived. But the man arrived at Braxton's office just before noon. An antsy-looking Tasha showed him in. Since Braxton already knew she'd stand outside and listen through the keyhole, he didn't bother telling her to shut the door. Instead, he shot straight to the point. "It was Gloria Benson," he said before Tom could even sit. 250


The older man paused, his knees already bent to plant himself in the chair across from Braxton. He lifted his face. "What was?" "The person who broke into my computer and downloaded my sensitive files." Mouth falling open, Tom straightened. "Gloria? But... I never would've thought she would... Really? It was Gloria?" Braxton nodded. "I terminated her employment this morning. Farris Industries has also filed a suit against her. There's a possibility she'll end up with jail time over this. But the good news is we caught her before she successfully sold any company information or stole enough money to hurt us." He paused significantly before adding, "So you can stop trying to protect Ben now." Tom's gaze sharpened. "Ben?" he said with all the confusion of an innocent man, except Braxton spotted the sweat beading his temple. His eyes narrowed. "Yeah, your pal finally came clean and confessed he'd been in my computer as well. But he assured me the only files he downloaded were..." he coughed, then added, "pictures for you." "Is he..." Tom tried to ask, but his voice went hoarse before he could finish the question. "Fired?" Braxton prompted. When he shook his head, Tom deflated. "No, Hendricks isn't fired. Neither are you, for that matter. Actually, I've revoked your suspension. You can start working again Monday. That is, assuming you want to come back." 251


Half hoping he'd decline—Brax could live out a full, peaceful life without ever setting eyes on Davenport again— and half hoping he'd accept—Farris Industries really did need the bastard back—Braxton waited a tense moment while Tom contemplated his answer. Finally, Lenna's father gave a brief nod. "Yes," he said, his Adam's apple jerking as he swallowed. "Yes, I'd like to come back." Braxton exhaled a small breath he'd been holding. "Good," he said, though he knew his face revealed anything but pleasure. "We'll see you Monday. Your co-workers will be relieved to relinquish your duties back to you." With his dismissal made, Braxton turned away and flipped open his organizer; he'd have to schedule another meeting once Davenport returned. He realized Tom stuck around, watching him, but he didn't care. He ignored the older man until Tom spoke. "What about compensation pay for my leave of absence?" Braxton slowly lifted his face. Weeks' worth of pent up rage must've shown on his face because Tom took a leery step back. "Let's get one thing straight," Braxton growled. "I hate you." Tom's eyes widened. "I hate you more than you can ever imagine. In fact, I'd be happy if I never had to see you again. You lied to Lenna, it ripped us apart, and I'm never going to forget that." Slipping a little too close to his raw emotions, Braxton paused and took a second to breathe through his nose. "If I 252


were you," he started again, calmer this time. "I wouldn't ask for any favors or special treatment from me for a long time. You're lucky you got your job back." "Why did I get it back then?" Tom's gaze was confrontational, but his face had paled to pasty and sick. Braxton snorted out a derisive laugh. "Haven't you caught on yet, old man? You're her father. I couldn't have fired you if you'd been the embezzler." To his own horror, his voice cracked. His face turned hot. "You can go now," he snapped, hoping the man would scram before he lost it. Thankfully, Tom stumbled backward, reaching blindly behind him for the exit. Braxton stopped by the liquor store on his way home and had the bottle open by the time he stumbled in the front door. He hadn't nearly reached that happy place where nothing hurt anymore when his phone rang. He had no idea what hour it was. Time had no meaning but pints and quarts, and his bourbon was three-fourths empty. He checked his caller ID, not social enough to talk to anyone, but when he saw his parents' number, he answered. "Yeah?" "Guess what?" his dad's cheerful voice echoed through the line. "Hmm?" Braxton muttered. "You know that new doctor we started taking Savannah to a month or so ago? We haven't seen Clara once since she's started with him." 253


This information actually had Braxton sitting straighter. "Really? That's wonderful, Dad. Do you think she's cured?" "No," Spencer was quick to answer. He paused to clear his throat. "No, Doc says Clara's still in there, inside Savannah's head. But this treatment she's going through is actually working. In another four to six years, she should be herself again." He sucked in a breath. "God, Brax, you should see her. It's like we have our old Savannah back." "Wow. That's... That's really amazing. I'm happy she's better." He meant his words, and actually felt guilty for drowning his misery about something so trivial when his sister had been struggling through serious problems. "So, I was thinking," Spencer started. "You're ready to come back to Farris," Braxton finished for him. His father remained quiet a moment before he answered, "Yes. I am." Braxton nodded. "Then, I'll tell the crew tomorrow." "Wait. Are you sure you're okay with this? I know we talked about it before you took over, but since you've been in charge for a while—" "Dad," Braxton cut in, "it's perfectly fine. You have to be going stir crazy at home with nothing to do. Your employees miss you and, well, Greg keeps calling and begging me to return to ProTech." "He has?" Relief filled Spencer's voice. "That's great. I'm glad everything's going to work out. And maybe Tom will ease up on you over his daughter since you're not going to be his boss anymore. You two kids could get back together." 254


"Yeah," Braxton murmured. "Maybe." When Hell transferred to the North Pole. He and Lenna were over. The end. Plus, there was no way he was going to torture himself by returning to ProTech, where he'd see her every miserable day. Braxton hung up with his father a moment later and stared at the phone thoughtfully. Lenna was still at ProTech, wasn't she? He hadn't heard any news about her in two weeks. Maybe she hated her workload and wanted to quit. Or maybe Greg didn't like her performance and had fired her. Thinking there was a chance he might be able to return to his old job, Braxton glanced at the phone still in his hand and dialed Greg. "Brax, man," his boy answered on the third ring. "Wuz up? You ready to come back to ProTech?" Yes, please, he was so ready. But Braxton merely snorted. "You never give up, do you?" "Hey, how do you think I get all the chicks?" was Greg's cocky answer. "Oh, ho!" Braxton replied and grabbed his stomach as if he were having a normal, everyday, carefree conversation with his bud. "So, your big secret is to harass a girl until she gives in, huh?" Greg was quiet a moment before he came back with, "Well, I like to think of it as persuasive coaxing." Braxton snickered. God, he missed the sound of his own laughter. "Look," he told Greg as he scratched the back of his neck. "I was wondering if you were up for some climbing." 255


Yeah, that sounded good. He needed a nice laboring, sweaty day full of rock climbing. Maybe if he was lucky, he could fall off a mountain and put himself out of his misery. "Am I up for rock climbing?" Greg snorted. "Dude. You name the time and place, and I'm there." Braxton bit his lip. "How about this weekend? Rose Ridge?" "Sold." "Good," Braxton said. Great. Now, how was he going to work his way into asking about Lenna without raising any flags? "How's it been?" he asked. "Haven't seen you in a few." Okay, that was a lame attempt, but hey, he had nothing here. "It's going," Greg replied. "Actually, I was starting to think you'd gotten yourself into a relationship since I hadn't heard from you in a while." "No," Braxton lied. "No, I haven't been seeing anyone." He cleared his throat. "But speaking of ladies..." Yeah, it was a bad segue, but he'd lost his patience. "How's that girl doing? The one I recommended to you. Lenna. She told me she got the job, but I, uh, I haven't heard from her since." His fib actually sounded believable. When he'd become such an accomplished liar, he had no idea. "Lenna," Greg sighed her name, making Braxton's teeth clench. "Pretty Lenna is awesome, man. We've yet to send a website her way she hasn't been able to translate." "Is that so?" Braxton said, hearing a smidgeon of disappointment slip into his voice. "She's doing well, then?" Damn.

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"She's doing fantastic. You can tell she really likes what she does too, because she thanks me for hiring her, like, every day." Braxton slid into a chair, his chest burning. That sounded like Lenna. Always so grateful. He wished Greg would go on, tell him more about her. He was glad she liked her job. He really was. It'd been important to her to find something she would enjoy. Her happiness at ProTech made his inability to return almost worth it. Jesus, he missed her. "Yep," Greg continued. "So, you should really give yourself a pat on the back, bro, because I never would've hired her without your approval." "Hmm," Braxton murmured. "Don't you just feel like her fairy godmother?" Greg teased. Actually, he felt more like puking. "So..." Greg asked, almost evasively. "When are you coming back to ProTech again?" Sure. Why shouldn't he return? Then he could work alongside Lenna where they could be one big, happy family... and then he could shoot himself in the head. "I really need to form a partnership with you now," Greg went on. "That way I can put Lenna under your supervision, and it wouldn't be weird for me to ask her out." Braxton's vision grayed. "Say what?" "What do you think?" Greg asked. "Is it wrong to ask out one of your employees?" "I... ah..." Braxton couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. 257


Greg wanted Lenna? "She's been majorly bummed lately. I think I'm just the kind of guy to cheer her up, you know. She's really hot too." Touch her and die, Braxton nearly growled. He caught himself at the last second and forced a deep, calming breath. But his nausea only intensified. He couldn't take this. Just imagining Lenna with Greg— "Brax?" Greg called after a second. "Yo, you still there?" "I... I'm sorry. I have a call on the other line," he lied. Again. "It's the office. I should take it." "Fine," Greg grumbled. "Go play boss boy. See you at the ridge." "Yeah." Braxton quickly clicked off and pressed the receiver to his forehead. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. She loved her job. And Greg liked her. Braxton barely made it to the bathroom before the bottle of booze came up, and he vomited for a solid five minutes. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-Four **** Face stiff from the smile he forced, Braxton watched his employees file into the conference room. And, yes, they were still his employees for the next few days. "I apologize for calling everyone in for another spur of the moment meeting. But I actually have positive news today." He waited for a few good-natured chuckles to die down, taking a deep breath as they did. "I'm sure most of you are aware my sister, Savannah, was in a bad car accident last year. She was in a comma for nine weeks. But what few of you—actually, I'm sure none of you— realize when she woke, she wasn't..." Braxton broke off, realizing this was going to be a lot harder to announce than he'd originally thought. Clearing his throat, he tried to speak again. "She thought she was someone named Clara. For three weeks, she had no idea who Savannah was, insisting we call her Clara. We weren't sure what to do. But then, one morning, Savannah woke up." Braxton filled his cheeks with air so he could blow out a long breath. He glanced around, noticing everyone was silent and transfixed—if not perplexed—by his every word. Lowering his eyes, he continued. "She became her old self again but had no memory of ever acting as Clara. It was like she had just then come out of the coma." 259


Getting to the most painful part of his story, Braxton lowered his eyes and played with a pen on the desk as he spoke, focusing on the cap wobbling loose. "The doctors diagnosed her with Dissociative Identity Disorder." He lifted his face and took in the myriad of shocked expressions. "Savannah has a split personality." A few people gasped; others covered their mouths with their hands. Braxton lowered his face again. "I know a lot of you were concerned when she had her accident; you wanted to help. But this was something we couldn't really talk about. It was too... painful. Savannah didn't want anyone to know about it either. "On behalf of my family, I would like to apologize for not disclosing her condition earlier. But it has been a really hard year to get through, and we just couldn't handle..." He shook his head. "My mother almost ended up in the hospital, she'd been spending so much time with Savannah. It depressed her enough to worry Dad. That's why he felt he had to leave the company for a while. He considered it his duty to be with Savannah and Mom during this time. Ergo, that's why I ended up here to fill his place." He cleared his throat again, thinking he definitely should've brought in a glass of water with him for this little speech. "So, anyway. I'm finally getting to the good part of my story." He clasped his hands together and was able to give his first genuine smile of the day. "After months of experimenting with treatment after treatment on Savannah, about six weeks 260


ago, she started seeing a new doctor, and she hasn't been Clara once since she's been visiting him." Tasha gasped. "So, she's cured?" Braxton sent his secretary a sad smile. "No. She's not cured yet, but this new treatment is successfully keeping her other personality in regression. And as long as she continues psychotherapy and everything progresses as it has been, she'll be okay in a few years." Smiling around the room, he said, "Which brings me to the point of why I've called this meeting. Since my sister is doing so much better, my father's been growing antsy with nothing to do. Therefore, come Monday morning, he will return to Farris Industries in full capacity as president of the company." Braxton had to admit, he thought his employees would show a little more enthusiasm over that announcement than they did. He'd expected some kind of reaction. Instead, utter silence met him. Finally Ben Hendricks asked, "But what about you?" Braxton blinked. "Me? Well, ah, I'll be around for a few weeks, of course, to help Dad catch up with all the changes, but then I'll be... I'll be gone." Charlie Fairbanks gasped. "You're leaving?" The funny part was he didn't sound thrilled by the news. "You're leaving the entire company?" "I, uh, yeah. I'm leaving." Bowled over to discover they all appeared disheartened about his departure, Braxton experienced a flash of accomplishment. Despite the handicap of youth he'd had 261


when he'd arrived, he'd triumphed and managed to somehow gain the respect of his reluctant employees. How bizarre... and flattering. "So, what are you going to do?" Tasha asked. Braxton shrugged. Then he forced a grin. "Anybody heard of a good job opening around?" When no one laughed, his forced smile fell. "No, actually there are a few different options I'm considering," he assured, still dazed they seemed to care about his future. "Don't worry. I've got a plan." And yes, he surely did. He planned to go home, get drunk, and wait to die. By pure accident, Braxton's gaze landed on Tom. He froze, unable to read the solemn expression in the older man's face. But merely looking at Lenna's father caused him to choke. He glanced away and cleared his throat. "That's all I have to say." Grabbing the pen and tablet he'd brought in with him, he marched from the room. The top employees of Farris Industries gawked at each other as Braxton fled. For a moment, no one spoke and then Pat Foley said, "Damn. I was just starting to like the kid, too." "That poor child," Beth Harders cooed. "A broken engagement and lost job all in one month? Breaks my heart just to think about how miserable he must be." Tom leaned against the wall where he'd been standing and jammed his hands into his pockets. When he caught Ben glancing at him, he jerked his gaze away.

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"He did a good job while he was here," Charlie lamented. "It surprised the hell out of me. But the boy stepped up and filled Spencer's shoes like nobody's business." "I think he was lying," Tasha said. "I don't think he has any plans at all. He looked too beaten to have any idea what he was going to do next." A hard ball of—what was that, guilt?—formed in Tom's chest. It swelled and started to block his airway until he found it difficult to breathe. Tugging at his tie, he coughed, but the ball remained lodged. He told himself he wasn't accountable. None of this was his fault. Shame plagued him anyway. Everyone was right. Braxton Farris had been a decent employer. For as young as he was, he'd done a spectacular job, and he'd made some big, spot-on decisions. "I wouldn't worry about Braxton over much," Pat said. "After all the work he put into ProTech when he worked there, I bet they'll name him the Messiah if he goes back." Tom jerked his head up. "Did you say ProTech?" "Yeah, haven't you heard of it? It's one of the fastest growing online businesses these days. I hear it might be the next Microsoft or Google." "And our Braxton worked there before coming here?" Tasha asked, clearly skeptical. "Hell, he damn near built the place from the ground up. He and one of his friends, Scandy or something or other, thought up the idea. They started it together, and from what Spencer told me, Braxton even invested a ton of money to get it off to a running start. To be honest with you, I'm not sure why his 263


friend didn't make him a partner, but Braxton let his buddy take all the glory." Pat shrugged. "Beats me. Maybe he knew he'd be coming to Farris someday." "Good." Tasha sighed. "At least he has somewhere to go now." Except he didn't, and Tom knew why Braxton wouldn't return to ProTech. Damn it all to hell. This piece of information was more than he could take. He needed to talk to the kid. Now. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he stalked from the conference room, leaving his co-workers to gape after him. He went straight to the president's office. When he found the door partially open, he pushed inside. Braxton stood at his window with his back to the door. He held his hands laced together behind his head. Tom shook his head. "Did you know this was going to happen all along?" Braxton whirled around. "Tom," he gasped and pressed his hand to his heart, waiting a moment before blowing out a long breath. "Did I know what was going to happen?" "That your father was going to return? Did you realize your presidency over this company was only temporary?" "No," Braxton answered. He shrugged. "I mean, as far as we were concerned, Savannah was never going to recover. I came here on the contingency I might stay forever." "But you knew if your sister did get better, Spencer would come back?" Braxton gave a slight nod. "Yeah, I knew," he admitted. "That's why he wanted it to be me who took over. Before I 264


started at Farris, we made a deal. I would run the company as I saw fit, like it was going to be mine forever. But if he ever had the opportunity to return, he would." He jammed his hands into his pockets and stared down at his feet. "He had to leave. My mom couldn't stay with Savannah by herself anymore. Dad wanted to be with them, but he couldn't give up all hope of losing Farris Industries either. He wanted to come back if he ever could." Braxton shrugged. "It wouldn't have been so easy for him, at his age, to return to the work force and try to start fresh somewhere else. He needed this position held for him." Looking almost bashful, he added, "Since I'm young... well, it'll be easier for me to find work somewhere else. And it's not like Dad wouldn't let me stay here if I needed a job." Tom studied the man who had secretly dated his daughter for months. A strange tightness bound his chest. It was pride. "Plus you knew you had a secure position waiting for you at ProTech," he said. When Braxton froze, Tom sighed. "I didn't realize you'd worked there before coming here. But Pat just explained how you'd helped your friend start that company." Silence was the only answer Braxton gave. "You got Lenna her job," Tom murmured. "Her dream job." Braxton met his gaze dead on. "No." He shook his head. "I only mentioned her name for an interview. She got her own job." Tom swallowed. "Are you going to have her fired so you can go back there? You could, couldn't you?" 265


Braxton eyes frosted. "Jesus, Tom, you really think I'm the Anti-Christ, don't you? No, I'm not going to have your daughter fired. I can find somewhere else to work." Tom swallowed. He sent Braxton a nod full of approval and apology. "I'm sorry, I just...I can't...You..." "God, will you just spit it out so you can leave?" "It was all just..." Tom coughed. He couldn't look the kid in the eye. "Everything you did was so altruistic and... and kind. The fact that you would sacrifice so much for your family... and then for my daughter—" Braxton lifted a hand. "You know, I don't want you to suddenly start liking me." He blinked rapidly as if he had something in his eye. "For you to approve of me now would be the ultimate insult." "Braxton," Tom said, apology thick in his voice. But Braxton bulldozed over him before Tom could continue. "I'm sure Dad will want to see the progress you've made on the Trevis account. You might want to get a report together for him to read once he gets here on Monday." With that, he walked out the door, brushing past Tom on his way. Tom fell into the visitor's chair, defeated. How ironically everything had ended. He finally approved of Braxton Farris... after he'd already destroyed the man's life and ripped him away from his daughter. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-Five **** In Tom's opinion, the only thing a man could do to redeem himself from becoming a complete ass was fix his mistake when he knew he was wrong. Yes, he'd always known butting into Lenna and Farris's affair wasn't right. But after learning what he'd learned today, the wrong of his actions felt iniquitous... even from his protective-father perspective. Like a repentant sinner taking his first confession, he arrived at Lenna's apartment with a package tucked snuggly under his arm. Evening had come, and the hours since he'd talked to Farris in his office had passed with grueling misery, creating a knot of guilt in his stomach that had grown into a nasty case of indigestion. He knocked on his daughter's apartment entrance and waited, shuffling his feet uncomfortably to ease some of the pressure his roiling innards generated behind his belt. Seconds ticked by; his anxiety mounted. He wasn't looking forward to this, but it had to be done. He'd wronged his baby girl, his firstborn. That wasn't something a fellow could look back on and be proud of. When she finally pulled the door open, his heart dipped into his knees. Face blotched with red and stark-white spots, she sported puffy eyes and tear-clogged lashes. "D-daddy?" 267


"Oh, hell," he muttered. It'd been over two weeks since Farris had told him about Lenna ending their relationship. Two weeks, yet here she stood, still bawling her eyes out. This couldn't be good. "Sweetheart," he said in a broken voice and stepped inside, arms open to tug her into his embrace. But Lenna pulled back. He stopped in confusion. "Lenna?" he whispered, already dreading the worst. She licked her dry lips and glanced away. "How long have you known?" He knew exactly what she meant but wasn't ready to address the subject yet. He'd wanted to butter her up first, give her the present, and tell her how much he loved her. Unable to meet her eyes, he hedged. "Known what?" "Cut it out, Dad. I'm talking about Braxton and me, and you know it." Tom winced. Okay, he might be here to confess and apologize, but hearing her say that name still caused his craw to itch. And it made him wonder... "He told you what I did?" Tom's guilt shifted into panic. The indigestion moved up his esophagus, and here came fullblown heartburn. Had Farris brainwashed her away from him already? "He didn't have to tell me," Lenna said. "I figured it out right about the time he said not to go crawling back to him when I finally discovered the truth." 268


There was no way to swallow down the lump in his throat. Bowing his head, Tom closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing through his nostrils. "I didn't want to believe anything bad about you, Dad. I didn't think you were capable of something as underhanded as this. That's why I haven't been able to confront you. I don't want to look into your eyes and see what you've done. But you did, didn't you? You lied about those other women. Braxton never flaunted any redhead around Farris. He never sent anyone roses. Did he?" Tom shook his head. "No." "Why?" she whispered. He could hear the tears in her voice, and it tore him up inside. "Why'd you do it?" He shrugged helplessly, lifting his hands in meek surrender. Lenna caught sight of the gift he held; her eyes went wide with recognition. "Oh, my God. Where'd you get that?" Having forgotten he still had it, Tom glanced down. "Oh," he said. "Here. I brought this as a... a peace offering, I guess. I was going to wait to give it to you at Christmas, but..." He shrugged again. She might not be speaking to him by the time December rolled around. When he held out the present, her eyes only widened more. Then it struck him. She'd seen the cream-colored wrapping before and probably even knew what was inside. "That's right," he murmured. "You went to Paris with him, didn't you?" Lenna's head snapped up. 269


Tom ran a hand over his face. "God, I forgot you were seeing him then too. I bet you even picked the gift out yourself." Lenna just blinked. "What're you talking about?" Tom sighed. "When he announced his business trip to Paris, I approached him and gave him some money, asking him to get a souvenir for my daughter, who adores everything French." He smiled then and let out a low laugh. "Little did I know you two were seeing each other, and he'd already invited you along. You could buy your own souvenir." Lenna's gaze fell back to the gift. When Tom held it out to her, she didn't take it. Her eyes welled. "It was for me all along," she whispered and covered her mouth. "He wouldn't tell me who it was for; I thought he'd bought it for another—" Lenna couldn't seem to finish her sentence before a sob overtook her and caught her breath, robbing her of the ability to speak. "Honey." Tom stepped forward and opened his arms again. "I love you. I'm so sorry. I—" "Don't," she said, holding up a hand. When he stopped, she wiped at her face with shaking fingers. "Just not yet, okay?" He relaxed a little and nodded. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I was wrong. I admit that now." She snorted out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, well, we were all wrong, weren't we? I was wrong to keep my relationship with Braxton a secret. You were wrong to lie about him. And he 270


was wrong to suspend you just because I'd broken up with him." Tom grimaced. He reached up to squeeze at the bridge of his nose, realizing he had a lot more to confess than he'd originally thought. "Lenna," he said, "he had every right to fire me. And no one would've blamed him if he had." His words had Lenna jerking back. But he gripped her hands. "Just listen," he said. "Ben had been sneaking onto Farris's computer." "Ben?" she said. "What? Why?" Tom shook his head. "He didn't trust our new boss. Hell, we were all wary of the kid. As far as we knew, he was some wet-behind-the-ears punk, coming in off the street to run our company into the ground. We were all scared for our jobs. Ben was just curious about Farris's plans. So, he did a little snooping." Lenna tugged her fingers from his grip and lifted them to her mouth. "He wasn't hurting anything," Tom defended. "He just wanted to look around. And that's when he found the pictures." She shook her head, baffled. "Pictures? What pictures?" "Pictures of you," Tom admitted. "Pictures of you in France. Pictures of you... everywhere. Farris even took pictures of you while you were sleeping... in your apartment. He stored them on his office computer." Lenna's eyes glazed, but she said nothing. "Ben made copies of them and brought them straight to me. That's how I found out about the two of you. And that's 271


when I lied to you about him having different women. I, ah, I was pretty desperate to break you two apart." She shook her head again. "I don't understand. That doesn't explain why he suspended you. Why not Ben?" Tom nodded. "Okay," he said. "I'm getting there." He took a deep breath and continued. "About the same time Ben was snooping, someone else was also getting onto Braxton's computer and looking around his files. But they were downloading sensitive information and planning to sell to a competitor. They stole some money from company accounts while they were at it." Lenna's mouth dropped. "No," she whispered. "He had to deal with a thief at the same time as our breakup?" Choosing to ignore that comment because it could only add to his guilt, Tom nodded. "He discovered he had hackers and called a meeting for everyone who had access to his office. He announced someone had been on his terminal and wanted to know who." Clearing his throat, he finished, "I didn't want Ben to get into trouble. I mean, he was doing me a favor by keeping those pictures of you quiet. So I, uh..." He glanced away guiltily. "I knew Farris wouldn't punish me as severely as he would Ben because of your involvement with him." He lifted his face, letting her see the regret in his eyes. "I used his feelings for you to my advantage and said I'd been in his computer." Lenna closed her eyes. "Oh, Dad." "Lenna," he whispered achingly, not sure how to explain. She shook her head. "No. Don't even try." 272


Tom knew shame. It wasn't often one of his children saw his flaws. Only one thing could make it up to her. Lowering his eyes to his hands, he admitted, "I honestly think the only reason he didn't fire me on the spot was because he's in love with you. That's pretty much what he told me, anyway." Lenna said nothing. Tom finally lifted his face to gauge her reaction. She stared at him until one of the tears clinging to her lashes fell. Sucking in a deep breath, her body shuddered when she released it. "Are you sure?" He nodded. "I'm not proud of myself. I know I shouldn't have done what I did to him. And I shouldn't have kept the truth from you. I see that now." Reaching the grueling part of his speech, Tom cleared his throat. "And honestly, in the past few days, I've come to actually respect him. I'm sorry I'm responsible for keeping the two of you apart. I never should've interfered in your life. I think he would've been good for you. Good to you. Hell, if the ring he bought was any indication of how he would've treated you, you'd be living like a queen right now." "Ring?" Tom nodded. "He gave his secretary a box to return to the jewelry store. Tasha, of course, peeked inside. It was an engagement ring, Lenna. He wanted to marry you." She pressed a hand to her chest. "He bought me a ring?" When Tom nodded, her lips curved. She sent her father a wet, sloppy smile and then covered her mouth with her fingers and burst into more tears. 273


"Now, don't go starting that again," Tom told her grumpily, reaching out to try one more hug. This time, she let him. He clung tight and buried his face in her hair. "You know I'm awful with girly things." Lenna wrapped her arms around him. She squeezed briefly before pulling away and boring a hole through him. "You're my father," she finally said. "You always will be, and I do love you." His shoulders relaxed a split second before she added, "Someday, I'll even forgive you for what you did. But," she added, glancing away, "it won't be today." His mouth opened and closed. "Lenna—" "I love him too, Dad, and you broke us apart. You lied, and I believed you over him. I shouldn't have done that. And now he doesn't want me." "Yes, he does. He—" "No," Lenna stated firmly. "He doesn't. He returned my ring, and I don't blame him. I wouldn't take me back either. I was so horrible. I accused him of—" "Lenna," Tom tried. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd fallen— " "Well I did," she cut in. "You're not the number one man in my life anymore, Dad. You need to accept that and him before we ever talk again." Tom studied his daughter. What he saw had him sighing. "I guess that's what I deserve," he murmured, though he didn't much like it.

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She nodded in a solemn businesslike way that belied the tears in her eyes. "Then I think you should leave. I'll call Mom and let her know I'm not coming to Sunday supper." He paused. "Are you going to be okay?" She snorted. "If you really cared, you should've thought about how this would affect me before you ruined my life." Not knowing how to respond to that, Tom nodded, bowed his head and hurried from her apartment. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-Six **** As Lenna pounded on Braxton's front door, she realized she should've planned this better. She was still dressed in her moping clothes, flannel pants and an old high school t-shirt. Her hair was a disaster, and after the two-week crying spree she'd just survived, she hadn't bothered to put on makeup in days. Frankly, she'd never looked worse. But when she saw how certain her father had been when he'd said Braxton loved her, she could only think about how fast she could make it to the quiet brownstone condo that housed the love of her life. So, here she was. Before she had time to pat her hair into place, his door opened. And there he was. Barefoot and wearing an old pair of jeans with a worn t-shirt, he hadn't shaved in a while. His eyes were bloodshot. Deep grooves of exhaustion around his face told her he hadn't been sleeping well. To Lenna, he'd never looked better. His eyes lit when they saw her, a brief spark of surprise and excitement. But just as quickly, they frosted into guarded distrust. Crossing his arms over his chest, he braced his feet apart, physically baring her way. "What do you want?" Lenna licked the seams of her dry mouth and was surprised to see his eyes track the movement. It made her 276


want to press her dehydrated lips against his and moisten them that way. Swallowing, she remembered how he could make her body sing with one kiss. Confirmed by those thoughts, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "I'd like to come in and talk." He shook his head. "No, I don't think so. You can say whatever you want out there." Lenna closed her eyes and sighed wearily. "Braxton... please let me in." "Sorry," he sneered, "but it's already too crowded in here, what with my harem of women keeping me company." Grinding her teeth, Lenna moved forward. Braxton didn't bother to step out-of-the-way. She had to turn sideways to squeeze by him; even then, her breasts brushed his arm. He sucked in a breath at the contact and jerked backward. She stopped, her spine still pressed against the inner wall of his foyer as he kicked the door shut. The glower he sent was like a punch to the gut. Realizing her plea for forgiveness had to be a lot better than what she'd planned, Lenna's eyes filled with hopeless tears. She didn't want to lose Braxton. The last two weeks without him had been hell. He noticed the trickle down her cheek and paused. Then he jerked his head to the side. "Well?" he demanded, his voice raspy and hoarse. "I'm sorry," she said. Pathetic attempt, yeah, but it was all she could think to say. "God, Braxton, I'm so sorry. Dad finally told me everything. He admitted to lying about your 277


other women. He told me why he was suspended. He even apologized for breaking us up." Braxton jiggled his knee anxiously as he stuffed his hands into his back pockets and gave a derisive snort. "It's about time he confessed," he said to the ceiling. Lenna's shoulders slumped. "Braxton." "Don't," he growled. "I told you, Lenna. I told you not to come crawling—God, will you stop crying?" She sniffed and wiped at her tears. "I'm sorry, I can't stop it. And I had to come. You know, I had to try to get you back." "It's too late," he ground out and turned his face toward the wall this time. She wasn't sure whether he was trying to hide the agony creased into his features or keep from seeing hers. The muscles strained in his neck as he clenched his teeth. Betting everything, Lenna took a cautious step forward. "I don't agree," she murmured and stroked his arm. At the light touch, he leapt desperately away. He spun to nail her with a sharp frown. "I miss you," she said and reached for him again. He evaded her hands. "Don't touch me." She pulled her fingers to her chest and sucked in a loud sob that made him wince. "I want to be with you, Braxton." He snorted, but it wasn't as effective this time, especially when his eyes misted and his chin quivered. But he sounded plenty condescending when he scathed, "Yeah, until Tom throws a fit and you once again choose him over me." 278


Lenna scowled. "That's not fair. Don't say that. My life doesn't revolve around him. I don't—" "Are you kidding me?" Braxton eyes snapped fire as he glared. "The entire foundation of our relationship was centered around him. We had to be hush-hush because of him. Remember? If I wanted to be with you, I had to keep it quiet. That was the deal." Her mouth fell open. Shaking her head, she said, "But you didn't want him to know either. You wanted to keep it quiet too... Didn't you?" He sent her a bleak look. "You don't know how many times I could've blurted everything to him. I so was ready for him to learn the truth, it wasn't even funny. I wanted to move past the secrets and the lies. But I kept my mouth shut... for you." "Braxton..." She reached for him yet again. "Lenna, stop this," he rasped, desperation so thick in his voice he pleaded. "It won't work. This won't work. Your dad is always going to be between us. We don't stand a chance. And I said, don't touch—" "Why?" she countered, her temper rising. "Don't you think you'll be able to resist me if I put my hands on you?" The challenge in her tone had him standing rigidly still when she reached for him the fourth time. Taking advantage, she ran her hands up his chest and pressed close. When her hip nudged his erection, she leaned up to kiss him. But he turned his face to the side, and she caught his jaw instead. She nibbled on his five-o'clock shadow. He shuddered. 279


"I miss this," she said, running her hand down until she cupped him through his pants. He caught her wrist but didn't move it off him. She tightened her grip and listened to his breath catch. His eyelashes fluttered, and he clenched his teeth. Lenna stroked him through his clothes. "No one has ever made me feel the way you do." He bowed his head, choking out a sound of defeat. "You're not playing fair." "How can I? I can't lose you." "You hurt me." His voice was stiff even as his body sank closer and he buried his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of her vanilla shampoo. More tears rolled down her cheeks while she wrapped her arms around him and rubbed soothing circles across his back. "I know. Braxton, I'm so sorry. I miscalculated you. You were too good to be true. It didn't seem right. I didn't think it was possible for you to be as perfect as you are. But I was wrong and—" "I'm not perfect," he muttered, lifting his face to send her a moody scowl. Lenna was actually able to smile. "You're perfect for me. Please believe me when I say I learned my lesson. I even told Dad you take precedence over him in my life, if that helps." His eyes widened as he straightened away from her, eyeing her as if he wasn't sure he should believe her. "But you can't," he said, adamant. "He's your dad. He'll always be your dad. Your family. You can't... you can't choose me over family." 280


She lifted her chin. "Then I guess you two will have to learn to share me because I love you both. Do you hear me, Braxton? I love you too much to let you go. And I swear with every breath I have, I'll never doubt your word again." He sucked in a breath. "You love me?" As their gazes held, she nodded. "Yes, I love you. I will always love you. I messed up, but I swear, it won't happen again. I know you're the only man for me, just like I'm the only woman for you." He watched without resisting as she unzipped his jeans and ran her hands around the back of his pants. Fingers slipping inside, she cupped the taut globes of his buttocks before pushing his jeans down, underwear and all. When she started to lower herself onto her knees, her mouth already watering for his taste, he caught her arm and pulled her back up. "No," he said. "I want to be inside you." She nodded, and he kissed her hungrily. Wet. Hot. Openmouthed. The works. Clothes became an immediate barrier; Lenna heard fabric rip as he tore the t-shirt off her. He was mad with lust, but then... so was she. He had her back pressed to the wall, her knees lifted in his arms, and her legs spread before she knew exactly what was happening. The tip of his penis nudged her opening and she cried out, already pulsing to receive him. "Tell me again," he whispered hoarsely. "I love you," she said. His face lit with pleasure, and he surged inside her. She screamed. 281


"I love you. Oh, God, Braxton. I love you." Braxton pistoned in and out, driven by a fury, until seconds later they both groaned and clutched each other, cursing and pawing. The explosion that racked them was so powerful Braxton slumped to the floor as soon as he was spent, dragging her down with him and cradling her gently to make her comfortable. He rested his head on her shoulder. "God, I missed you." Smiling lazily, she touched his hair and ran her fingernails along his scalp. He purred and closed his eyes, nuzzling her throat. "Je t'adore, ma cherie," she sighed. "Love you too," he mumbled on a yawn. Lenna gasped and sat up. "Oh, my God. You know what I said?" He gave her a heavy-lidded grin. "I've studied up a little French since Paris." "For me?" she asked, flattered. He cringed like he was embarrassed and dropped his eyes, becoming preoccupied with running his finger over her collarbone. "Want to hear a certain phrase I'd been practicing before—" He cut himself off abruptly but the remainder of his sentence lingered between them. Before we split. To quell the echoing words neither of them had spoken, Lenna cleared her throat. "What've you been practicing?" He studied her a moment, his blue gaze intense. Then the skin around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "What the hell," he said more to himself than her. Grasping her fingers, he 282


kissed the knuckles and slowly pronounced, "Veux-tu m'epouser?" Lenna's jaw dropped. Holy— "Do... do you know what you just said?" He smiled. "Well, I hope I asked you to marry me." He paused. "Did I say it right? Or did I ask you to lick my toe or something?" She laughed. And laughed again. "Yes," she screamed, too ecstatic to do anything but throw her arms around him. "Oh, my God, yes!" Braxton's gripped her tight. "Yes, you'll marry me or, yes, I said it right?" Lenna couldn't breathe so well. "Are you serious? You really want to marry me?" "More than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life." He nipped her lips. As he pulled back, Lenna saw the devotion and caring in his eyes. "If we can make it past Thomas Davenport—and we will—we can make it past anything." He stroked her face with the tips of his fingers. "All you have to do is say one more yes." Captivated by a Prince Charming offer like that, Lenna flashed him her dimple. "How can I resist?" [Back to Table of Contents]

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Acknowledgements I would like to thank Claire Ashgrove, Jackie Bannon, Alfie Thompson, and Karen King for helping make this manuscript shine. [Back to Table of Contents]

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About the Author Linda grew up on a dairy farm in the Midwest as the youngest of eight children. Now she lives in Kansas with her husband, daughter, and their nine cuckoo clocks. Her life's been blessed with lots of people to learn from and love. Writing's always been a major part her world, and she's so happy to finally share some of her stories with other romance lovers. Please visit her at her website www.lindakage.com/ [Back to Table of Contents]

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Spicy, sensual love stories which leave a reader breathless, intense plots, alpha males, strong heroines and sizzling dialogue—find it all at Whispers! www.whispershome.com For your convenience, all of Whispers' books are available at Fictionwise, Mobipocket, All Romance e-Books, and Amazon Kindle. Be sure to join our newsletter for up-to-date news from your favorite authors, contests, giveaways, upcoming releases, and more! To join, send a blank e-mail to: [email protected] Visit us on Facebook. Chat with us on Twitter: www.twitter.com/WhispersPublish Join the conversation on our blog: whisperyourfantasies.blogspot.com/

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