The Spanish Tycoon's Temptress (14 page)

He swung her around a moment before she reached up to grab another coffee cup.  “You may NOT see any other man.  Do you understand?”

She understood only that he was issuing commands and she didn’t like that at all.  “I understand that you’re an obnoxious jerk that I don’t want in my life but just like a bad penny, you keep showing up and acting like you own me.  Well I don’t care about your stupid grant money!”  She was so furious she was poking him in the chest with each word, livid that he would dare try and control her.  “I can do without all of it!  If you’re going to treat me as if you own me, then just shove it!”

“T
his has nothing to do with the grant money and you damn well know it!” he growled.  With a jerk, he pulled her into his arms, his mouth smothering her objections as he kissed her, grinding his mouth into hers and hurting her. 

It took him several moments before he realized that she wasn’t
just resisting him.  She was actually fighting him.  And there were tears in her eyes and her small hands were pounding against his chest.  When the reality of what he was doing hit him, he stopped and looked down at her, his thumbs reaching up to wipe the tears away. 

Elana saw the surprise in his eyes and she took a deep breath, relieved that he’d finally stopped. 
And then she saw the light in his eyes change.  It wasn’t so much that he was happy.  He was still furious, but this time when he kissed her, it wasn’t hard.  But it was just as terrifying, although in a completely different way.  His tongue invaded her mouth, mastering her, controlling her with the desire he was igniting inside of her body instead of by brute strength.  She didn’t want this, she told herself.  But her hands were no longer pounding against his strong muscles.  Instead, they were grabbing onto his sweater, fisting in the fabric and holding him in place, afraid he might let her go and she would fall to the floor in a puddle of pathetic desire. 

“Why?” she whispered, but even she wasn’t sure what she was asking.  Why was he here?  Why was he kissing her?  Or why had he left the first time?  Or the question that kept racing through her mind, why should she trust him this time? 

She shouldn’t trust him, her brain kept telling her.  But her body was asking how a man could be so tender and passionate when he felt nothing for her.  And how could she feel such intensity when she didn’t even like the man or trust him? 

These were all questions that kept racing through her mind, pulling her back from the insanity that usually ensued when
ever he touched her.  For the first time, she found the inner strength to pull out of his arms.  She was so proud of herself, feeling as if she’d conquered something as she looked up at him, her lips still tingling with the need to continue kissing him but she took a deep breath and stepped backwards.  “I have a lot of work to do,” she whispered, trying to put more strength into her words but it was hard with him standing there in front of her looking like he wanted nothing more than to take her into her bedroom. 

Gaston
knew that she was right.  It was just hard to think with her looking like the most incredibly soft, delicate and attractive woman in the world.  Without makeup, she looked lush and beautiful, even more stunning than normal and he ached to hold her again. 

But he had to get a grip on
his lust.  He had a new plan, one that he’d developed last night after their abbreviated phone call.  He’d lain in his huge bed last night, aching to have her next to him.  But once he’d gotten his body under control, he knew that it was a good thing she’d left the party.  He didn’t want things between them to get out of hand.  He wanted her in his bed, absolutely, but he wanted to control the night.  He wanted her to be the one swept away so that he could nudge her towards marriage. 

Yes, it sounded manipulative, but he
’d remembered that he didn’t really like or respect her.  He kept forgetting that every time they were together.  Sure, she could talk a great game.  When he was around her, he loved to make her laugh and hear her talk about her work, or just watch the excitement in her eyes as she discussed any subject with another person.  Elana was one of those people who found enjoyment just being with people and found everyone interesting.  It was fascinating to watch her draw someone out and find out what made the other person tick. 

It was all an act, he now knew.  It took
time away from her to remember that.  He’d been sucked in by that strange habit of hers where she made a person feel as if they were the only person in the universe that mattered.  But last night, he’d seen everyone become equally charmed by her.  When he was close, he thought it was fascinating.  When he had distance, he knew that she was just a manipulative person who sucked people into her web before moving on to capture the next person in her sticky net. 

His plan was simple.  Drive her crazy with desire, bed her and get her out of his system. 
After the wedding, move on to the next person but with his father’s book in his possession.  All very simple and this time he would get everything he wanted out of the relationship, including her in his bed for as long as it would take to finally exorcise her from his mind.  She’d been there for too long and it was time for him to get this thing done.

“Okay, so you won’t come to the lake house with me because you want to get this place into shape.  What can I do to help?”

Elana stared at him, her eyes moving up and down his clothes, ignoring the sharp twist of desire that shot through her as she noted the incredible physique underneath the expensive clothes.  “Gaston, that sweater alone probably cost more than my rent.  This is a dirty job.  If you want to go to your lake house then go.  I’m painting and getting new pillows and possibly new curtains if I can find some in my price range.”

He looked around,
then nodded.  “Okay, what first?  Paint or pillows?”

She laughed and crossed her arms over her chest. 
“Neither with you.  Go home,” she emphasized.

He laughed and leaned forward slightly. “Not going to happen.  I told you, you’re my investment and you’re still not eating very well.”

She reared back.  “I ate last night!”

He raised one eyebrow and shook his head.  “Two appetizers
does not a meal make.  And what did you have for lunch?” he asked, a knowing look on his handsome face as he looked down at her.  “And what were you planning to eat for breakfast this morning?”  He chuckled softly when her mouth opened, then closed again without any words of what she ate.  “My point is made, Elana.  Accept it.  I’m here with you.  Either come with me to the lake house or I go with you to do whatever you’re going to do this weekend.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily.  “Gaston, I’m going to the hardware store and the cheapest department store around.  There’s nothing
in either place that will interest you at all.  Besides, you’ll just be in the way.”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t care what you say.  I’m coming with you.”

Her shoulders drooped slightly, not wanting him around her while she shopped.  But she had no idea how to get rid of him.  It was one thing to slip out of his place unobserved.  It was another issue entirely when he was exactly where she was going to be all weekend.  “Fine,” she said with ill grace.  “I’m off to the hardware store to get paint.  Come if you’d like.  I don’t care, but I’m driving.”

He laughed at that statement, already shaking his head.  “Not a chance.  Not in that death trap.  Besides, I wouldn’t even fit in the driver’s seat.”

“Who says you’ll be driving?” she demanded as she grabbed her keys off of the hook by the door and pulled open her apartment door.  “I drive my own car.”  It was amusing to think of him trying to fold his tall, muscular frame into the passenger seat of her tiny vehicle though. 

He didn’t even laugh.  “I’m driving,” he countered
resolutely.

When they got down to the parking lot, she headed straight for her beat up old
Beetle.  But he wasn’t having any of that and simply put his hand on her waist and pushed her towards his sparklingly beautiful black sedan.  “I can’t go buy paint in this car,” she told him and dug her heels in, not moving an inch as she glared up at him.

“Why not?”

“Because this car probably cost more than the entire building!”

He snorted at that.  “Get real,” he snapped and opened the passenger seat.  “Either get into the car or let me have some painters out here to get the painting done for you. 
Your choice.”

She glared up at him, still feeling mutinous.  “You keep giving me these ‘do it my way or else’ ultimatums.  Is this just your way of being charming?”

“Of course,” he came back, a boyish-like smile on his face and he nudged her into the passenger seat, slamming the door on her burst of laughter.

Damn him!  She hated it when he made her laugh.  She hated his charm and his wit.  She really wish
ed he would just go away.  He was breaking down her defenses and she was starting to….no, she couldn’t say that she liked him.  But she accepted that she didn’t hate him anymore. 

It was easy to choose paints because she didn’t
need to select just one color.  It’s easier to choose what colors one wants in a room when one can pick out all the colors that catch her eye.  She could picture her den in three different colors and her dining area to be in the same colors, just in more muted shades.  Her kitchen was easy since it would be green.  What other color should a kitchen be?  Her bedroom would be yellow though.  A wonderful, soft, buttery yellow and she’d get green or lavender curtains. 

While she was giving directions to the paint guy, Gaston was on the phone, just leaning against the counter with an amused, indulgent smile on his handsome face.  She didn’t care what he thought, she told herself.  It was her space and she’d decorate it exactly how she wanted it to look.  She was the one who had to live there. 

“Ready to go?” he asked when she was finished giving mixing instructions to the salesperson.

“I just need paint brushes and the other stuff.”

“All taken care of,” he countered, taking her by the hand and leading her out of the hardware store. 

“Stop, I need to pay for all the paint,” she said, pulling back on his hand and trying to get hers released. 

He shook his head and pulled her forward.  “As I said, already taken care of.  Let’s go.”

She looked up at him curiously, not sure if she should protest him paying for her paint.  He spent more on lunch than she’d spent on her paint, but she was still uncomfortable with him paying for it.  In the end, there wasn’t anything she could do about it.  He’d already paid and the paint was stored in his trunk by some eager beaver store employee who rushed off as soon as the trunk was closed. 

When they arrived back at her apartment, Elana was astounded to see that there was already a crew of painters waiting in her parking lot, their arms filled with the paint paraphernalia that was needed to get the job completed.  “What have you done?” she asked, but she already knew the answer.  He’d recruited a team of painters to do the task for her. 

“I didn’t want to spend the day breathing in paint fumes,” he said and nodded to the painting crew chief
who unloaded the paint cans from Gaston’s trunk.  “Just go upstairs and show the guys which walls to paint each color and then come back down so we can move on to your next errand.”

She pursed her lips, but followed his instructions.  While she discussed the colors, taping the paint sample to each wall, the men were already moving her furniture into the center of the room and covering everything with tarps.  It took less than fifteen minutes before she was walking back down the stairs to Gaston who was leaning against his car, his arms crossed over his massive chest as he watched her approach.  She couldn’t see his eyes because of the sunglasses that hid them, but she noticed that there was still that smug amusement on his face.  “It’s all taken care of,” she said as sh
e stopped in front of him.  “Thank you very much for your help.  I’ll pay you back for everything,” she said, although where she’d find the money to pay for the painters, she had no idea.  She’d have to do it in a payment plan or something.  She didn’t completely object because she hated painting, never able to get the lines straight enough to please her.  But the men upstairs in her apartment seemed extremely competent.  No matter how bad a job they did on her walls, it would still look better than if she were to do it herself. 

“Now we get something to eat.”

She shook her head, not wanting to be with him.  “I’m not really hungry.  But go ahead if you are.”

She still couldn’t see his eyes, but she just knew that he was rolling them. 
“I know for a fact that you didn’t have any breakfast, Elana, and it’s now time for lunch.  Get in the car,” he ordered, but since it was said with a smile, she laughed and got in.  She felt too good to argue with him today.  Her apartment would be a wonderful color – or many wonderful colors – by the end of the day and she’d have her fabulous space perfected. 

“Okay, where are we eating lunch?”

He drove her to a small, cozy restaurant by the center of the older section of the city, where the streets were still made of cobblestone and the stores were all brick fronts with an old feel to the interiors despite their updated décor.  She ordered a sandwich that sounded good, but she was more interested in the fries that came with it.  For some reason, she really wanted greasy carbohydrates right about now.