At the Billionaire's Beck and Call? (12 page)

His mouth covered hers as he tasted her lip again. Her blood pumped frantically through her veins, making her light-headed. Her senses swam. She let go of her doubts and gripped the front of his shirt, holding him to her, needing nothing more than this kiss, wanting him closer, closer. Especially if she wouldn't have him forever.

When he pulled away, his breath was coming hard and he leaned his forehead on hers. “Interesting,” he said, his voice thick, “but I'm not sure I got the full effect.”

With one hand, he leaned to take the spoon from the first pot, and with the other hand, he undid three buttons on her blouse. He spread the warm chocolate at the base of her throat and when his hot mouth covered the spot and sucked, she couldn't help but moan and arch back.

But when he'd taken all the chocolate from her skin, he turned back to the pots of thickening chocolate and began to stir to coat the spoon. In those moments, some reasoning returned.

She was setting herself up for heartache. It was one thing to agree to sign a marriage certificate so he could buy her father's company. It was another to participate in this charade, pretending they could have a real marriage when her fiancé believed he was incapable of love. She'd never survive a half marriage with a husband she loved but who kept her at a distance.

With startling clarity, she saw what she had to do—this needed to be a paper marriage only. No children, no living together, no illusions. No broken heart.

They could marry and he could buy her father's company and acquire the stock he wanted. But she couldn't let her heart be dragged along indefinitely. That had already happened once when she was young and grieving for her mother, and her father chose to lavish his
affection on her sister, all but ignoring her. She wouldn't survive it again, especially not from Ryder.

The only way to protect herself was to ensure distance between them. He could have his life in the U.S. and she'd carry on her life in Australia. All that would connect them would be a simple piece of paper, and after the marriage contract was in place, they would never need to talk—anything on a personal level would be at an end. They could marry on paper but live their own lives.

Ryder turned back to her, and she put a staying hand on his hard chest. “Ryder, we need to talk about our marriage. There are some things I think we need to do differently.”

“Later.” He moved her hand and pulled her blouse across to expose one shoulder and kissed it with his open, hot mouth.

Her bones began to slowly dissolve. But she found the strength to whisper, “Wait.”

He pulled back, the question in his eyes.

She was torn. They had to have this conversation, no question. But from the moment she changed the rules and Ryder agreed to a paper marriage only, things would be different. There would be no conversations on non-work topics. No getting-to-know-you lunches. No being in the same country.

No lovemaking.

He placed a soft kiss on her exposed shoulder, not pushing, still waiting as she'd requested.

She was going to give this up. Give him up.

But—she bit down hard into her bottom lip—she
could
have him one more time. Let him make love to her this last time before they had the discussion that would rule out intimacy forever. He was worshipping her body with the chocolate and his mouth, she'd be crazy to stop
him now and discuss them living apart, never doing this again.

To cut short their last time together.

She moistened her lips and whispered, “You're right. We can talk later.” Then she ignored everything else and focused on the man in front of her.

He undid more buttons and daubed chocolate on her stomach before licking it off. She almost melted into a pool of desire.

“You know,” his voice rumbled, “I was never really a chocolate fan before, but I get it now.”

He gripped the pencil skirt at her hips and smoothed it up her body until it reached the height of her panties, then he lifted her onto the lunch table.

Her heart beating hard and fast, she reached for him. “I have to admit,” she said, “its appeal is increasing.”

It wasn't the time for talking or goodbyes. She gave in to her body's heated insistence and pulled his head down, claiming his mouth, claiming all of him. Because the time for goodbyes would come too soon, and she'd take every moment of heaven on offer before it arrived.

M
acy sat at her desk the next day, pen tapping a beat on her jotter, ostensibly working on projected figures, but in reality she couldn't drag her mind away from Ryder's flight in a few hours.

Yesterday, after Bernice had confirmed his ticket, they'd walked to her apartment and made love into the evening until Ryder had left at 2:00 a.m. She hadn't seen him for more than a few minutes at a time since—he'd been locked in meetings all day, preparing to leave.
Leave.
Her heart missed a beat and her pen stilled.

From the corner of her eye she caught movement in her doorway and looked up to see Ryder crossing to her desk. Her breath hitched as it always did when she saw him, so tall and solid and
hers
. But he
wasn't
really hers. Her stomach clenched as she remembered he never would be. Not in the way she wanted—needed—him to be. Which was why she had
to end the charade of pretending they would have a real marriage. And do it before he left tonight.

Hands clasped, he raised his arms above his head, stretching. Banishing thoughts of a bleak future where they'd be connected by nothing more than words on the page of a contract, Macy instead watched the way his muscles moved under his pale blue shirt as he straightened the kinks.

His hands came to rest on his hips and he gave her a weary smile. “How about we get out of here?”

She frowned. They didn't have any outside appointments scheduled. “Where do you want to go?”

“Your place. Somewhere else.” He came around to her side of the desk and leaned back on its edge before snagging her hand. “I don't mind.”

Drawing her eyes from their interlaced fingers, she checked the clock on her computer screen. “It's five o'clock.”

“Which is your contracted finishing time.”

She leaned back in her chair. “One that neither you nor I ever leave by.”

“Then it's time we did.” He gave her the weary smile again.

She studied his features. Dark smudges under his eyes matched his face's slightly weathered look. He was tired. Of course, so was she—they hadn't had a full night's sleep since they'd first made love in Sydney. They were probably both averaging three hours a night.

But it was more than that. He was worried about the new claimant to his father's will more than he wanted her to know.

She wound their fingers tighter. “You don't want to pack for your flight?”

“I'm already packed and checked out of the hotel.” He
stood, tugging on her hand, and tugging at her heart just as strongly.

She couldn't refuse—not when she'd be losing him so soon. She switched off her computer and pulled on her jacket as she listened to Ryder telling Tina they were going. When she met him at her office door, he put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned in to his heat and strength. How would she survive when he left? She'd been fine before he arrived, but now she knew he was out there, now she loved him, how would she get through her days? Or nights?

Their staff bustled back and forth around them, continuing with the workday, but Ryder ignored them and pulled her closer. As they waited for the elevator, she wrapped an arm around his waist and decided not to think about him going. She'd once lived her whole life in perfect control—it'd been slipping since the moment she'd agreed to go on a date with her boss. Now it was time to give it up completely and live in the moment.

To appreciate this man for the time she had him.

They walked next door, past the sounds of the city and the traffic, and up to Macy's apartment. As Ryder loosened his tie, she dropped her bag on the phone table and pressed the play button on her answering machine to hear the message that flashed. Her father's voice filled the room, congratulating her on her upcoming marriage, followed by her sister passing on similar sentiments.

Ryder scowled. “They should be apologizing to you, not congratulating you.”

She slid out of her black slingbacks and picked them up by the straps. She knew he was annoyed at her sister for leaking details to the media, but her father? “This is the deal you made to help you gain control of your company. I thought you approved.”

Ryder scowled again, hands on hips. “I only agreed because the stakes were so high. But he's your father—he shouldn't have had the clause written in the first place. And then to not tell you is worse. I can't imagine doing something so abominable to our daughter.”

Our daughter.
The idea hit her with the weight of a sledgehammer. But there would be no daughters or sons for them. She had to tell him soon. But looking at him now, with his indigo blue tie hanging loose and askew, Macy didn't want to talk anymore. She wanted to grab him by the tie and drag him down the hall to her bedroom for what might be their last time together. Her lungs began to labor at the thought. It'd been almost eleven hours since she'd last touched his naked skin, and her fingers quivered with the need to trace the muscles of his shoulders and arms, to kiss them.

Ryder's gravelly voice interrupted her chain of thought. “I made a reservation for dinner—I'd like to do something special with you tonight, and Tina assured me it's a very romantic restaurant. Are you up to going out?”

No
, her body screamed. She'd wanted to stay home and relearn the planes of his chest, to feel his body slide against hers. But perhaps the very depth of her need for his was a warning that it would be much more sensible for them to talk somewhere else. If they stayed in, they wouldn't leave her bed, and she only had a short window of time to tell him about the changes she wanted to their arrangement.

She inhaled deeply and steadied her breathing. Then she smiled. “Give me twenty minutes to shower and change and I'll be good to go.”

 

Ryder sat with a stunning view of the Yarra River to his left and a more stunning view across from him.
He smiled at Macy as their main dishes were cleared, feeling something close to happiness. The jazz pianist on the other side of the room coaxed a rhythm from the instrument that seemed to pulse around them. Macy's low-cut lavender dress complemented her flawless fair skin and glossy dark hair, making him want to reach over and touch her. Then again, he always wanted to touch her—the only variance was the intensity of the need.

Once the waiter left, Macy picked up her wineglass and sipped before replacing it carefully on the table, both hands circling the stem. “What will you do with my apartment building when you leave?”

He stretched his legs out, feeling full and mellow for the first time in twenty-four hours. “I might sell it. Or maybe keep it—an Australian base could be useful.”

Her eyes focused on the golden wine in her glass as she swirled it around and around. “I guess it wasn't a plan you thought through much when you bought it.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “It was more of an impulse buy.” Then something about her words caught his attention. She'd said when
you
leave. “Macy, I'm not going anywhere permanently without you. I'll be back for you as soon as I've met with Seth. Within days. Or you can come to me when you're ready.”

She bit down on her lip then met his eyes. “You don't need to make me promises. I don't expect them.”

His stomach hollowed. She thought he was walking away from her? From what they had? What kind of man did she think he was? Then he thought of people in her past—her mother dying when she was young. Her father emotionally betraying her. She'd probably half expected it from the beginning. He grimaced. But he'd be damned if he'd be another person to let her down.

“I'll be back for you,” he repeated fiercely.

She sent him a beseeching look, her eyes shadowed. “Let's just enjoy what we have here and now.”

He shook his head, incredulous. She didn't believe him. Not something he was used to—as a rule, people accepted his words as truth. But not his Macy, he thought with one corner of his mouth pulling up into a reluctant smile. No, she was her own woman.

He reached over and grasped her hands on the stem of her glass, stilling them. “This is not just about acquiring stock anymore. I like the idea of being married to you. Why would I give that up?”

“Ryder—”

He cut her off, not wanting to mince words on such an important topic. “Macy, do you want a proper marriage with me? Living together. Children. Growing old side by side,” he demanded. “Honestly.”

She flinched. “I don't know.”

He tightened his grip on her hands. “Why the hell not? You were happy for us to have it all two days ago.” He took her hands off her wineglass and pulled them to the middle of the table. “Tell me what's different between us.”

Slowly she looked up to meet his gaze and he saw her eyes were glistening. She looked damned affected for a woman who was saying she wasn't sure if she wanted to get married. He held back a curse. What was going on in her head?

She ran her tongue over her lips, and he noticed the bottom one trembled. Then, as if she read his mind, she held it between her teeth for a long moment. When she released it, she'd regained her composure and her voice was steady as she spoke. “I agreed because I was swept along in the momentum. I can give you my father's company with a paper marriage, Ryder. We don't need
to be in the same house, or even the same country. You don't need anything more than that certificate.”

“Damn it, Macy, I need you for so much more than that. I don't know where to start, but…I think about you every minute we're apart. I want to touch you, hold you, feel your skin against mine. Sometimes I think that having you wrapped around me in the dark of night is the only thing worth living for. Don't tell me the company is all you have to give.”

“They're not the sorts of things that last,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Sex isn't enough to base a marriage on.”

She was wrong. Having a lifetime of experience of watching his parents, he'd become an expert at bad marriages. He and Macy stood a better than average chance of making a marriage work. No one could expect more than that going in. It was a good risk.
He
was a good risk.

He just needed to find a way to convince her of that.

He stood and held a hand out. “Dance with me.”

Macy's eyes softened as she laid her delicate hand in his and stood. There were only three other couples on the floor, so when they reached the middle, Ryder took his time and held her close for a moment. She allowed him the gesture, melting into him with her beautiful softness. The scent of her filled his head, sweet and intoxicating.

Then, reluctantly and only in deference to their surroundings, he allowed a small space between them and led her in slow steps to the mellow jazz. She felt so damn good. Even on a night when his inheritance was in danger, Macy trumped everything else and filled his thoughts.

“Tell me you'll move to the States with me and have my children,” he murmured near her ear.

“Please don't ask that, Ryder.” Her forehead wrinkled and her hazel eyes were shadowed as they'd been when he'd said he'd be coming back for her.

He cocked his head to the side, trying to work out what was really going on. There was something he was missing and he hated being out of the loop. Especially when it concerned Macy.

He swung her around, but didn't break eye contact. “Why wouldn't I ask?”

“Because you'll only accept one answer and I can't promise that's the answer I'll give.”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “Why on earth not? Give me one good reason why we can't have a proper marriage and I'll back off. One good reason, Macy, just one.”

She lifted her chin and looked him square in the eye, face tense as if expecting rebuke. “Because I love you.”

He stopped dancing and stood stock still in the middle of the dance floor. Other couples glided by, though none near enough to overhear Macy's shocking declaration.

Heart hammering, he cleared his throat. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said on a sad laugh.

His chest swelled as it filled to bursting with a powerful happiness. A gorgeous, intelligent woman of integrity like Macy loved him.
Loved
him. He had to be the luckiest man ever born. He grinned.

He started dancing again, bringing her with him across the floor, their bodies moving as one. “So why would that
stop
you from marrying me? I'd have thought that was a good sign.”

She paused, almost missed a step. “It's only a good sign if both people are in love. If it's only one person, then it becomes a minefield. The marriage fills with bitterness
and resentment. I don't want that to happen to us, Ryder,” she ended on a whisper.

Suddenly he saw his parents' marriage through new eyes. He'd thought it was loveless on both sides, but he'd been wrong. His mother had loved his father, and his father hadn't loved her back. She hadn't just been embarrassed by his father's semi-public antics, she'd been
heartbroken
.

He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing he could have done something for his mother, even as he acknowledged it'd been far beyond his control.

Then he opened his eyes and focused them on the incredible woman in his arms.
He wasn't his father.
He'd no more leave Macy and start another family with a mistress than hack off his left arm.

Heart thumping, he pulled her close again and rested his cheek on her the top of her head. He'd find a way out of this emotional maze. He'd never failed on things he'd put his mind to in the past, and wasn't about to start now. Not when it was this important.

 

Since Ryder had a plane to catch, it was still early when they arrived back at her apartment. Despite her spur-of-the moment—and probably unwise—declaration, Macy had spent the night appreciating the time she had left with him, just as she'd promised herself—reveling in the feel of his arms around her as they danced, delighting in the shivers he caused as he whispered in her ear.