Barbara Dunlop - His Convenient Virgin Bride

“That’s not true.”

Alec scraped his chair backward and came to his feet.

“Horse people have money,” she repeated her earlier assertion. “They own businesses. They rent real estate.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. “But maybe not. Now, if Ryder International was in the equestrian equipment business, Equine Earth-”

“We’re in the equine breeding business.”

“Revenues from your breeding sales are a tiny fraction of the revenues from the real estate division.”

“You’re out to get me, aren’t you?”

“I’m not-”

She thrust the paper back on the table. “From the minute you walked onto this ranch, you’ve been out to prove that I’m not a valuable partner in this corporation.”

“These numbers aren’t my personal opinion-”

“The hell, they’re not.”

“They’re generally recognized calculations for determining-”

“Shut up.”

He stiffened. “Excuse me?”

She moved in. “I said shut up. I am so tired-”

“Of what?” he asked incredulously.

“Of you! Of you and your-” She ran out of words. What was she trying to say? That she was tired of being attracted to him? Of knowing that he wasn’t attracted to her? Of having his presence at the stable mess with her mind?

He waited, staring hard.

She mustered an explanation. “Of you trying to prove I have no value.”

His look turned to confusion. “Is that what you think?”

She gestured to his work with a sweep of her arm. “That’s what all this says.”

“It says you’re a financial drain on the corporation. And you are.”

“I’m an asset.”

“Not a financial one.”

Her throat closed up with emotion, and she hated it.

Why did she care what he thought? Her brothers weren’t going to accept this. What could it possibly matter that some opinionated, hired gun of a troubleshooter thought she wasn’t pulling her weight? It shouldn’t.

And it didn’t.

But then something shifted in his expression, and he cursed under his breath. “I’m trying to be honest, Stephanie.”

She didn’t trust herself to speak, and she needed him to think it didn’t matter, so she waved her hand to tell him to forget about it. She wished he’d back off now and leave her to wallow.

But he took a step closer, then another, and another. His eyes went dark, from pewter to slate to midnight.

She stilled, unable to breathe. Her chest went tight. Her heart worked overtime to pump her thickening blood. And she found herself gazing up at him, feeling the pinpricks of longing flow over her heating skin.

Suddenly he clamped his jaw and his hands curled into fists. “We can’t.”

No, they couldn’t.

Wait a minute. Couldn’t what? Did he mean what she thought he meant?

“Stephanie. You’re my client.”

Yes, she was.

And that mattered.

At least it should matter.

Shouldn’t it?

But a kiss wouldn’t hurt. A kiss was nothing. She’d kissed a dozen men, well, boys really. A kiss didn’t have to lead anywhere. It didn’t have to mean anything.

And then at least she’d know. She’d know his touch, his scent, his taste.

She subconsciously swayed toward him.

“Stephanie.” His voice was strangled.

The world seemed to pause for breath.

And then he was reaching, pulling, engulfing her, plastering her body against his, flattening her breasts, surrounding her with his strong arms. His mouth came down on hers, open, hot, all encompassing.

Passion shot through her body, igniting every nerve ending, every fiber from her hair to her toes.

He tipped his head, deepening the kiss. She opened her mouth, shocked that these intense sensations could come from a simple kiss. Her arms stretched around his neck, and her body instinctively arched against him.

His hands slid down her spine, lower, and lower still. She gasped at the sensation, moaning when the heat of his palms cupped her bottom.

She curled her fingertips into his hairline, struggling for an anchor, her knees going weak, as the subsonic vibrations of arousal sapped the strength of her legs. She kissed him harder, her thigh relaxing, allowing his own to press between, sending shock waves through her torso.

“Stephanie,” he rasped, and she loved the breathless sound of his voice.

He groaned then, breaking away, reaching backward to unclasp her hands.

But she fought back, shaking free from his grasp, cupping his face and peppering his mouth with quick kisses. She did not want this feeling to end.

He gave a guttural groan, enveloping her again, taking over the rhythm, bending her backward and thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth while one hand slid up her rib cage, surrounding her breast.

She kissed him fervently, fists tightening, toes curling, as she struggled to get closer and closer.

Then suddenly, she was lifted from the floor, scooped into his arms. The kisses continued and sensations built as he carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. There, he set her down, and his fingers swiftly scrambled with the buttons on her blouse.

Yes. Skin to skin. They absolutely needed to be skin to skin. She fumbled with the knot in his tie, making little progress. She switched to the buttons on his white shirt.

He chuckled deep in his chest as he swooped off her blouse, removing her bra in one deft motion. “I win,” he breathed in triumph.

Then he helped her out, and tore open his shirt, discarding it on the floor.

She sighed in sublime satisfaction as his hot body came up against hers. Her breasts and belly tingled, and her skin flushed with pleasure.

He lifted her once more, sinking onto the bed full-length. His hand found her bare breast, strumming the nipple to exquisite arousal. His kisses roamed from her mouth to her neck to her shoulder, and finally to the hard beads of her sensitized nipples. She was restless, itchy, and her hands felt empty, but she didn’t know what to do with them.

She buried them in his short hair, convulsively tightening her fingertips against her scalp. Her thighs twitched apart, and he settled between them. A burst of desire rocketed through her belly. She reached for the waistband of his slacks, certain they needed less clothing between them and more heated skin.

He helped her out again, rising to strip off the rest of their clothes. He paused then, his gaze sweeping hotly over every single inch of her nakedness.

She loved the way he was looking at her, as if he liked what he saw. She loved that she was naked, loved that she could stare right back at his glorious, hot, sculpted body.

He slowly lowered himself against her, one palm running from her knee to her breasts, then back again. He gently eased her legs apart, watching her expression. Then he kissed her eyelids, took her mouth once more in a deep, lingering, passionate kiss.

His touch became firm, his movements more hurried, and when he tore open a condom, she experienced a moment of fear. But then he was back, and his kisses were magic, and her body took over, spreading and arching and welcoming him.

She expected a pain, but it was minor and fleeting, and the building sparks of desire quickly filled her mind. He adjusted her body, and the sensations intensified. She dragged in labored breaths, hands convulsing against his back, toes curled and hips arching to meet him with every stroke.

They rode a wave that stretched on and on, until his body tensed. His rhythm increased. He cried out her name, while lights and sound exploded in her mind, making her weightless, suspended in time, before she pulsed back to earth and felt the weight of Alec on top of her.

His breathing slowed, and he kissed her temple, her ear, her neck.

Then he dragged in a labored gasp. “Stephanie Ryder, you blow my mind.”

She struggled to catch her own breath. “If I could talk,” she panted. “I’d tell you exactly the same thing.”

He chuckled deep, rolling over to put her on top.

Her limbs felt like jelly. But now that it was over, a soreness crept in between her legs. She shifted to ease it.

“Careful,” he warned, reaching his hand between them. He eased out of her body.

But then he frowned, lifting his fingers to peer at them in the bright moonlight. “What the hell?”

He whirled his head, pasting her with an accusing look. “You’re a virgin?”

“Not anymore.”

He recoiled in what looked like horror. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why would I?” It was her problem, not his. Besides, it wasn’t like she was saving herself for some mythical future marriage.

“Because…” he sputtered. “Because…”

“Would you have done something different?” Personally she wouldn’t have changed a thing. Virginity wasn’t a big deal in this day and age.

“I wouldn’t have done anything at all.”

“Liar,” she accused. Half an hour ago, neither of them had been thinking past sex. “Did you tell the first woman you slept with that she was the first?”

He frowned in the starlight. “That’s completely diff-”

“Ha! Double standard.”

He raked a hand through his mussed hair. “I can’t believe we’re having this argument.”

“Neither can I.”

“You’ll argue about anything, won’t you?”

“Takes two to tango, Alec.”

He curled an arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight. “You are impossible.”

“And you’re inflexible.”

“You really should have said something.” But his voice was starting to fade as a pleasant lethargy took over her body.

“I didn’t,” she muttered. “Get over it.”

His voice dropped to a whisper next to her ear. “I doubt I’ll be doing that for a very, very long time.”

Her eyes fluttered closed, and her body relaxed into sleep.

Then, after what seemed like only seconds, there was a loud knock on her bedroom door. She blinked, and the bright sunlight stung her eyes.

“Stephanie?” Royce’s voice demanded.

Alec was on his feet, clothes in hand, and through the connecting door to the bathroom in a split second.

“Hang on,” she shakily called to her brother.

“Something wrong?”

“Why?” She blinked again, struggling to adjust her eyes.

“It’s after nine.”

She sat straight up and glanced around, grabbing her discarded clothes and stuffing them under the covers just in case Royce barged in. “I overslept.”

“Have you seen Alec?”

“Uh, not since last night.” Technically, it was true, since she’d had her eyes closed for the past few hours.

“He’s not in his room.”

The water came on in the bathroom.

“I hear the shower,” she called to her brother. “Meet you downstairs?”

There was a pause. “Sure.”

Stephanie flopped back down on her pillow, blowing out a sigh of relief. Not that her sex life was any of her brother’s business. But, wow. She’d hate to have to listen to the shouting.

As Alec approached the kitchen, he heard both Royce’s and Jared’s voices. He adjusted his collar, straightened his cuffs and shoved his guilt as far to the back of his mind as humanly possible.

Then he cringed as he passed the messy dining room table. They all would have seen it on their way to the kitchen, and it was completely unprofessional to leave his work scattered like that.

“We’re all heading out there in an hour,” Jared was saying.

“Good morning,” Alec put into the pause, glancing at the faces around the breakfast bar, first at Jared and Royce, then Melissa and Amber, checking for anger or suspicion.

Nothing he could detect, so he allowed himself a quick glance at Stephanie.

Damn it. She looked like she’d made love all night long. And her gaze on him was intense.

When Amber turned toward her, Alec quickly cleared his throat, moving toward the coffeepot, hoping to keep everyone’s attention from Stephanie. The woman had no poker face whatsoever.

“Heading where?” he asked Jared as he poured.

“The airport. We can give you a lift.”

Alec didn’t dare look, but he could feel Stephanie’s shock. It wasn’t perfect timing, but he couldn’t very well refuse the offer after telling Jared he was leaving today. There was work to do in Chicago, and there was also Norman Stanton to deal with.

Besides, what was he going to do if he stayed? Make love to Stephanie again? If they were alone in the same house, odds were good it would happen. His professional ethics were already teetering on the edge of oblivion.

“Thanks,” he forced himself to tell Jared. Then he turned, casually taking a sip from the stoneware mug. “Stephanie? I’ve got a couple more questions before I pack things up.” He nodded toward the dining room, hoping she’d get the hint. It might be their one chance to say goodbye alone.