Leanne Banks - Trouble in High Heels

“I didn’t know that was part of the job description,” he said, moving toward her.

“It wasn’t,” she said, her nerves jumping. She shook her head, flustered. “I just got the impression you weren’t interested.”

“So you moved on to the next guy,” he said. “Is this what our marriage will be like? If I don’t give you the answer you like whenever you want it, however you want it, then you’ll move on to the next man?”

Lori’s heart stopped. Is this what our marriage will be like? That sounded as if Jackson was actually considering marrying her. She stared at him, terrified, thrilled.

“Well?”

Lori opened her mouth and moved it, but no sound came out. She closed it for a moment to gather her thoughts. “No,” she said and cleared her throat. “If you and I get married, I won’t be moving on to the next man if I don’t like what you say.” She paused a half beat. “If that were the case, I wouldn’t have mentioned the idea in the first place, because it’s not as if I’ve liked every word that has come out of your mouth.”

He stepped closer. “Then why me, Lori? Your duke would probably go along with everything you want. He would never argue with you. You know we will.”

“Well, you wouldn’t prevent my access to the money.”

“No, but I would do my damnedest to persuade you not to donate your entire inheritance to Designer Duds for Dogs charity.”

“I have to agree that there are more worthy causes.”

“Why me?”

Lori’s heart squeezed tight in her chest. Why him? Because she felt things for him. Things she’d never felt before. But she didn’t want to tell him that. “I told you. I trust you.”

He stood silently, towering over her for what felt like an eternity. “Okay. I’m in.”

Lori felt light-headed. The bones in her knees seemed to melt. Her pulse pounded in her head. Oh. My. God. He’d said yes.

His eyes widening in alarm, he swore as he reached out to her. “You’re white as a ghost. You look like you’re going to faint.”

She clung to him and took baby sips of air. “I’ll be okay,” she said in a voice that sounded wispy to her own ears.

“Did I scare you?”

She gulped over the lump in her throat. “No. I’m just surprised. Very surprised.”

“You sure you’re not having second thoughts?” he asked, studying her.

Try tenth or twelfth thoughts, she thought. “Oh, no,” she said in a high-pitched voice. “I asked you. Remember.”

“Yes, but-”

Her mind going a million miles a minute, she moved her head in a circle. “Vegas,” she said. “Let’s go to Vegas.”

“Vegas,” he repeated, blinking.

She nodded. “Vegas. Tomorrow night.”

He swore again. “Tomorrow night? Why so soon?”

So she wouldn’t chicken out, she thought. “If you’re sure and I’m sure, there’s no need to wait. Is there?”

He met her gaze, and she saw the second he decided to accept her challenge. “No. There isn’t.”

Maria slammed the teapot down on the tray so hard Geoffrey was surprised it didn’t break. She looked at him with eyes so fiery he briefly wondered if she had some kind of superpower that would make his internal organs explode if he looked at her too long. Ridiculous, he thought, but he still looked away.

“How much sugar do you want?” she asked.

He glanced at her and, rising, shook his head. “Thank you. I can do it myself.”

“No,” she said, the spoon poised above a tiny sugar bowl.

Geoffrey assessed the situation, thankful there were no knives within Maria’s reach. “Two, thank you.”

She stabbed the spoon into the sugar and dumped two heaping spoonfuls into the cup. “Cream?”

“Please,” he said.

She dumped a generous amount of cream into the cup and banged the spoon in a circular motion. “Here,” she said, shoving the cup and saucer into his hands.

Geoffrey nearly spilled the liquid all over himself, but he managed to confine the splatter to the saucer. He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

She crossed her arms over her generous breasts and stared at him. “Well?” she said expectantly.

He paused a half beat. “Well, what?”

“The tea,” she said, nodding toward the cup. “Did I make it right?”

He glanced down at the steaming cup. “I’m sure you did.”

“Taste it.”

It was still too hot, but heaven help him if he tried to tell her that. Gingerly lifting the cup to his lips, he took a small sip of the too-sweet, too-weak tea. “Perfect,” he lied with a smile. “Perfect.”

Her glare softened a smidgen, and she pushed a strand of her bangs behind her ear. “Good.” She glanced away, dropped one of her hands to her hip, then lifted her arms again to cross her chest. “I don’t suppose Lori has made tea for you.”

He blinked at the odd question and chuckled. “Not at all. I’m not sure she knows how.”

Maria lifted her chin, and her lips lifted the slightest bit into an almost smile. “She can’t cook, either.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she couldn’t,” he agreed. “After all, she has staff for that.”

Her face fell again. “I’m not wealthy,” she said. “So I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in me.”

When she turned to walk away, he felt an overwhelming sense of panic. “You would be wrong,” he said, the words bubbling up from somewhere inside him. Somewhere that wouldn’t be denied.

She stopped, her hand on the doorknob, and he watched her shoulders rise and fall as she took a breath and released it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he began, then broke off, utterly conflicted. “Please come back. Just for a few moments.” Setting down his cup of tea, he returned to the piano and began to play the melody that had burned its way into his brain and heart over the last couple of days. He hadn’t needed to write down the notes, because he couldn’t escape the song. It followed him everywhere all the time, even when he slept. The music brimmed with passion and hints of sadness, strength, and vulnerability.

He stopped when the notes and chords in his mind stopped, although he knew it wasn’t the end of the piece.

Silence clung to the air like humidity just before a summer rain. The only sound he could hear was his heart beating inside his head.

“Finish it,” Maria finally whispered, walking toward him. “It’s beautiful. Finish it. I want to hear the rest.”

“That’s all I know,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I know it’s not finished, but that’s all I know.”

“It’s so beautiful. Why didn’t you play it tonight for Virginia? And Lori.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, more in pain than any other emotion he could read.

“It’s not finished,” he said, then added, “And it’s a personal piece.”

She lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “Then why did you play it for me?”

His heart hammered in his chest. This was so right. Yet so wrong. But he couldn’t seem to stop any of it. “The name of the piece is ‘Maria.’”

She stared at him for a long moment, her gaze fixed on his, a dozen emotions flying through her dark eyes. Then she bit her lip and her eyes grew shiny. “You wrote it for me?”

“I wrote it because of you,” he said. Because her being had taunted and tormented him from their first meeting. “I wrote it about you.” He took a deep breath. “That was you in music. The reason it’s not finished is because that’s all I know.”

She sat beside him on the piano bench. “No one has ever written a song about me.” She lifted her hand to his face. “Why did you do it?” She shook her head. “Why didn’t you write one for Lori?”

“Lori is a lovely person,” he said, watching her gaze darken as he said the words. She started to pull her hand away from his face, but he caught it in his. “It’s true. She is lovely. But she is not the woman who has captivated me like no other woman has. I never dreamed a woman could affect me this much. Never.”

She lifted her chin, challenge and fire mixing in her gaze. “You are an odd man.”

He blinked at her response. It wasn’t exactly what he’d been hoping for, although if he got what he was hoping for, he’d be in a bloody vat of trouble. “I’m not sure what to-”

“Don’t say anything right now,” she told him. “You talk too much.”

Affronted, he opened his mouth to correct her.

She covered his lips with her index finger and leaned against him. Her gorgeous, delicious breasts, about which he’d fantasized, brushed his chest, rendering him mute. “But your British accent makes up for it,” she added with a smile. “So polite on the outside, but I can tell you’re lusting after me in your heart.”

His heart wasn’t the only organ she was affecting at the moment. Holding his breath, he shifted slightly, praying she wouldn’t move away from him.

She didn’t. Instead, she leaned closer, mashing her splendid breasts against his chest. She lifted her lips to his. “You are very odd,” she said against his lips. “But you are also cute. All those proper English manners. I wonder how bad you are underneath,” she said, then took his mouth in a scorching kiss.

Geoffrey felt as if a fire blazed straight through him. His heart raced, his mind thundered. Music poured through him. A new sound, a new movement. He couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t care. He never wanted her to move away.

Her tongue taunted and tasted his, daring him to go deeper. He took the plunge, delving into her silken, sexy mouth. She was everything voluptuous, sexual, wild, and free. So amazing he couldn’t have dreamed a woman like this.

Hungry, he devoured her mouth and slid his hands around her back, drawing her as close as he could. The soft catch of her breath and moan hit him like pure whiskey.

He lifted one of his hands to the side of her breast and she arched against him as if she wanted more. The movement made him hard as a rock. Pulling her onto his lap so that she straddled him, he slid his hand beneath her shirt and upward to cup her breast.

“Yes, yes,” she said in a husky, sexy whisper, arching again, wiggling against his crotch.

He wanted to feel her flesh, her bare nipple. Struggling with her bra, he searched for the fastening in the back.

“It’s in the front,” she said and ran her tongue over his lower lip, still wiggling her lush bottom over his crotch.

Sweating with arousal, he slid his hand between them and unhooked her bra. Her breasts sprang free against her shirt, and he immediately took one in his hand. Her nipple was already turgid, and the knowledge that she was so aroused sent him spiraling.

She suckled his tongue, making passionate noises of approval while he fondled her breasts. She continued to undulate against his erection, and suddenly it was too much. A roaring orgasm swept through him, and he went over the top.

Moaning and swearing, he clung to her. Bloody hell, he hadn’t done that since- Had he ever done that? He was amazed and embarrassed. What must she think?

“I don’t know what to say. I apol-”

“Oh, don’t you dare apologize,” she said, her eyes flashing with anger. “Unless you are ashamed of your feelings for me.”

“God, no,” he said. “But-”

She stood, leaning over him, her legs separated by his between hers. “If you think that was hot, my odd Englishman, you should know I was just getting started.”

He inhaled, drawing in her scent, feeling like a damn stallion scenting a mare in heat. She made him feel as if he was in rut. Permanently.

He slid his hand to her denim-covered thigh and then up to her rounded hip. “Is that an invitation to continue?”

She tossed her head back and laughed, brushing aside his hand as she stepped away. “Later,” she said and added, “if you please me. Work on my song. Play more for me next time, and we’ll see,” she said and sauntered out of the room.

Geoffrey stared after her, feeling as if he’d been whacked with a slab of stone that weighed a ton.

The following afternoon after Lori finished her regular cleaning chores, she found Virginia at the kitchen table, clearly mulling over her bank accounts. Lori rubbed Kenny’s soft fur and watched the older woman mutter as she scribbled, erased, then scribbled again. Virginia raked a hand through her gray hair and wrinkled her brows.

Lori’s heart twisted at the sight of the woman struggling. It wasn’t fair. Virginia was trying to do something good. She worked hard. She didn’t deserve to have to worry so much, especially after the loss of her husband.

Lori would be able to take care of that very soon. If everything went as planned, she and Jackson would be married by tonight, tomorrow at the latest, and Lori would gain more control of her inheritance. The first thing she was going to do was write Virginia a check. It was all she could do not to tell the woman, but she and Jackson had agreed not to tell anyone until the deed was done.