It would be his pleasure. The second half of the beer met the same fate as the first, and he put the empty bottle down. He was feeling better already.
He’d already kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt by the time he was halfway to her office. If he had to pry her away from her computer, he didn’t want to waste any time on the basics.
Already he could feel her cool hands on his skin, feel the flick of her tongue over his straining tip, feel her trembling with need beneath him in that hitched moment of anticipation before he lunged into her.
Oh yeah; already he was feeling a lot better.
The door was open and he found her standing by the windows, her back to the door. Just one glance and already he’d worked out how he was going to get her out of the little strappy number she wore in the minimum time. ‘Knock knock,’ he said.
Then she turned, and a foul day turned belly up.
She looked like the eye of a storm, he thought, the brief moment of respite after one onslaught and before all hell broke loose. She stood as straight as a pillar, her features drawn tight, her eyes ice-cold and malevolent, the storm building within; he wondered what the hell had happened to bring this on. Just this morning she’d been telling him she couldn’t wait for him to come home. And now this?
Maybe he’d been right. Maybe three days had been long enough for whatever it was to burn out. A pity, in that case, given Fletcher had said no to this latest offer, that potentially they had more time together before it must inevitably end.
But the thought that she might have lost interest first irked him. He’d assumed he’d be the one to know when it was over.
‘How was your day?’ he asked, determined not to be swept into her foul mood. If she wanted to tell him whatever was bugging her, that was fine, but he was no masochist. He wasn’t about to go poking about, looking. Better to turn to something he knew she could talk about ad infinitum. ‘Get lots of wedding things organised?’
Her head jerked up, her eyes flashing fire. ‘And you really care because…?’
He’d provoked a response, that was something, not that she’d given him any clues with it. ‘I’ll admit, talking weddings doesn’t hold the same appeal for me as it does for you. But don’t let that stop you. There’s nothing I adore more at the end of a long day than being regaled with tales of the latest decision about flowers or decorations or the advantages of two tiers versus three.’
‘You bastard!’
The words didn’t stick. He’d been called much worse in his time, no doubt would be again. But it didn’t help that he hadn’t spoken the complete truth. He had no interest in her pointless wedding arrangements, that was true, but at the end of his work day he’d liked nothing more than hearing her talk. He didn’t care about what, he’d just loved her enthusiasm and energy and hearing the laughter in her voice.
But there was no laughter now.
‘I don’t know what’s bothering you, but clearly you’re in no mood for company. If you’ll excuse me?’
He’d barely made it to the door when he heard the words. ‘Did you offer Jake money to break off with Monica?’
So she wasn’t in on it. That was his first thought. He’d suspected Fletcher was taking advantage of her all along and he was right. So why would he have told her now?
But that didn’t matter. What mattered right now was that she knew and that was why she was so angry. Damn. He spun around. ‘Did he tell you that?’
‘Answer the question! Did you, or that henchman you call a security boss, offer Jake money to break off with Monica? Seems to me it’s got your modus operandi written all over it.’
He stiffened and dragged in a breath. So the truth was out. There was no point denying it, even if he wished she didn’t know. Even if he wished for that other Sophie back, the warm, sensual woman who responded to his touch as if she was made for it. But that Sophie was gone, probably for ever, and even though part of him ached inexplicably at the thought he’d always known it would happen some time.
And now he could only defend his actions. His record might damn him in her eyes, but history was on his side, after all. ‘He’ll say yes. They all do.’
He watched her almost crumple in a heap. Her fisted hands came up over her face as her knees buckled beneath her. But she didn’t fall. She pushed herself up straight, thrust her arms away and glared at him, her eyes like polished stone. ‘For God’s sake, Daniel. Can’t you see? Jake loves Monica.’
‘So he says.’
‘Because it’s the truth! And he asked me to tell you he doesn’t want your money, whether it’s five-hundred thousand, or a million, or whatever else you decide to throw at him. He doesn’t want it because he’s marrying Monica, whatever you want to believe in your tortured, twisted mind.’