WORTHY, Part 1 (24 page)

“And what about your working lunches?” I asked him, raising my eyebrows. “Would your clients and partners and potential customers enjoy sitting on the carpet, unwrapping their lunches to eat? Would they take their shoes off, too?” Both of us had toed our shoes off at some point during the meal, and our sock feet were stretched out in front of us.

“It would be a requirement,” Jonathan said gravely before tickling me. I shrieked out a giggle before clapping my hand over my mouth.

“There are people out there,” I said. “Why is it so crowded for a Saturday?”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan confessed, playing a little with my hair. I shrank inside as his fingers brushed my scar, hated myself for it, and tried to move past. As pointless as it was to continue to dwell on my disfigurement, it was my constant companion, digging at me with every new person I saw, every stare. Why didn’t it bother or fascinate Jonathan like it did other people?

“One guy said that ever since you started coming in on Saturdays, other people have felt the need,” I said casually, trying to forget about my stupid scar.

“He did, did he?” Jonathan asked, quirking a smile. “Well, Collier’s always telling me to lead by example. Maybe we’ll see some increases in productivity. What else are my employees telling you?”

I flushed. I hadn’t meant to tell Jonathan about the guy outside this office. I could imagine the workers just outside the frosted glass, trying to stretch and press their ears against the door to hear what we were talking about.

“Nothing—nothing important,” I stuttered, looking away from my fiancé and out the window. “Do you know what that area of green is down there? Is that a zoo?”

“Aha, the master of misdirection,” Jonathan teased, kissing me lightly. “It’s all right, Michelle. You don’t have to tell me what they’re saying if you don’t want to. I know that gossip runs pretty rampant here. Well, they’ve told me so, at least.”

I bit my lip and weighed my options. Should I tell him? Would it ruin our lovely picnic lunch? I didn’t want to hold back. We were good together because we were strong, and secrets would only chip away at that.

Even as the thought crossed my mind, I felt like a hypocrite. I had secrets upon secrets, and whether Jonathan even suspected was doubtful. But my one relief was that if his past would forever remain a secret to me, mine could remain a secret to him. Perhaps I could shed my memories just as easily as he had—only without the head wound. I turned to look at him. It was just a faint white scar, now, but it was an ever-present reminder of just what Jonathan had lost.

Would I ever be enough for him? Would there come a day when he would stop trying to figure out who he’d been and simply start being the man he was today?

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, smiling at me. I wondered how long I had been staring at him like an idiot.

“That same guy?” I began. “The one who said everyone started coming in on Saturdays because you did? He kind of said that you never really bothered with coming in before—um, before the accident.”

“I’ve gotten that impression, too,” Jonathan said, his eyes lighting up in recognition. That made me sag in relief. At least I wasn’t breaking terrible news about the possible quality of his previous character. “It sounds stupid and terrible, but I’ll take every puzzle piece I can get, no matter what the shape of it. What else have you discovered?”

I hedged again, hemming and hawing for a few moments while trying to see my way out of this new game.

“Michelle, you can tell me anything,” he urged. “You don’t know how hard it is trying to get information out of people. Not even my parents are very forthcoming. You can be my eyes and ears, you know.”

“I know,” I said, filled with guilt. If the Jonathan before hadn’t been very savory compared to the Jonathan now, of course it would be difficult to the people who used to know him to tell him about it.

“So?” he pushed me. “Let’s hear it.”

“That same guy said you used to be a total dick,” I said as solemnly as I could.

Jonathan burst out into instant laughter, and I had no choice but to join him. We laughed and laughed until my sides felt like they would split.

“A total dick,” Jonathan chuckled, shaking his head and sounding like he was winded. “Well, I haven’t quite heard it put like that, so that’s a new one. A new puzzle piece I can try and fit in somewhere.”

“You’re not angry?” I asked, peering at him.

“How could I be?” he said, shrugging helplessly. “I can’t remember a thing before waking up on your couch. How could I be upset about the man I used to be?”

I took stock of his openness and decided to try to press a little bit.

“Why is it so important to try to find that man?” I asked gingerly, hoping I wasn’t treading on thin ice. “Do you think your search is holding you back from moving forward?”

Jonathan was pensive for a few minutes. I rested my head on his shoulder, contrite, certain that I’d pushed him too hard.

“You may have something there,” he said. “I know I spend a lot of time at it, a lot of time going through old files and photos and books and things, but I’m just trying to glean some knowledge. If I want to do right by this company, which is mine, I have to try as hard as I can to grasp the knowledge and wisdom I used to have. That’s gone, Michelle, but I don’t think I can just turn my back on it without at least fighting for it. I want to be a good leader for this company. I really do.”

“I know you do,” I said. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you should just give up.”

He kissed me, his lips feather-light against my forehead. “I’m trying to be realistic,” he said. “I understand that I may never get my memories back, that I’m cramming for a test I’ll always be doomed to fail. But I have to try, Michelle.”

I swallowed so hard that I was sure Jonathan would hear it.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said, his voice soft.

“I was looking for a picnic basket,” I murmured. “I thought maybe I could shift some of those files around in all those boxes in your home office.”

“Oh, Michelle …”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have looked in them. They’re your private things. But I looked, and I saw all the pictures of you and Violet, and they made me doubt everything. How can I try to be with you when she was here first? I know we’ve talked about it, but I just feel like we can’t, in good faith—”

He halted my words with his lips, and I was so grateful. I had been about to say “be together,” as in “we can’t be together,” but Jonathan had kissed me instead. I let myself tumble with him into an embrace. If I kept my eyes closed, maybe it would be summer again. Maybe we would be back at the cottage, sprawled out over a blanket in the middle of the field, surrounded by flowers and the slow, fragrant breeze.

We came up for air, and the illusion vanished. We were two confused lovers sitting on the floor of a CEO’s corner office. There were no flowers to be found, and the only breeze was from the heat coming out of the register.

“Jon …”

“No, baby,” he said, holding my face in his hands, one palm resting on my smooth cheek and the other on my scarred cheek. It was total contact, and I couldn’t handle it. I squirmed away, but he trapped me in his arms.

“Jon, please …”

“No, Michelle,” he said, kissing me so deeply that I was once again transported back to the cottage. Why couldn’t we always be there? I knew why Jonathan felt like he had to try and reconcile with a past he couldn’t remember, but that didn’t mean I had to understand why it had to be so hard. Going to the cottage had been my way of escaping. Couldn’t we both escape together? Just go back to where we’d been happiest?

“I love you,” Jonathan said, his conviction so deep that it brought tears to my eyes. “I love you, and all I want to do is be with you. I want the best life we can possibly have. I want to be the best man I possibly can be for you. That’s all I want, Michelle.”

It was all I wanted, too, but there were so many things going against us. If the terrible welcome home dinner was any indication, Jonathan realized it, too.

But the way he was kissing me made me let go of it all, just let go and fall with him. If only we could be together like this all the time.

Jonathan cupped my crotch through my skinny jeans, the denim and my panties beneath the only barrier between the heel of his hand and my clitoris. When he rubbed me there, I gave a long, low keen before he swallowed the sound of pleasure with a kiss.

“You’ll have to try to be quiet,” he whispered, smiling wickedly at me. “Remember, there are people just beyond that glass.”

My face flushed in both embarrassment and pleasure, the erotic dimension of sex just yards from other people heightening my arousal. Would I be able to be quiet enough for our coupling to escape detection? I didn’t have a choice. I had to be. It would be a hell of a thing for Jonathan’s reputation to be tainted by this kind of incident.

“Maybe we should just go back to the house,” I hissed, stilling the movement of his hand against my mound. “It’ll be safer, and we can make all the noise we want.” I thought about the way Amelia had scowled at me. “Well, all the noise we want within reason.”

“Is safe what you want?” Jonathan asked, gently applying pressure to my clitoris with the heel of his hand until I saw stars. It felt so delicious, and I knew that part of it was because of the danger of our situation.

“No,” I allowed finally, grinding against his hand. “No, I want you.”

Jonathan continued to rub his hand against my clitoris as he worked his other hand beneath my sweater, squeezing my breasts through my bra. My nipples hardened under his ministrations, and he sought them out immediately, pinching and working them until I was bucking against the carpet. It felt amazing, and it was all I could do not to cry out, to urge him on as loudly as I could.

“You have to be quiet,” Jonathan reminded, his eyes twinkling. He seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much. I took the opportunity to let loose a small moan when he kissed me again. What we were doing was beyond stupid, beyond risky, but I didn’t care. Let them all hear. Let them all know that this Jonathan—and me, Michelle, his fiancée—were here to stay.

“I want you,” I murmured, arching into his touch, pushing for more and more pleasure. “I need you.” I could feel my panties getting wet from all of the attentions he lavished on me.

“I need
you
, baby,” Jonathan said, kissing me on my temple. “I need you more than you know. I feel like you’re the only real thing in my life, the only one I can trust. Do you trust me?”

I nodded. At that point, at just how close I was to orgasm, I probably would’ve nodded at anything. But I did trust Jonathan. I would never have come to Chicago if I didn’t trust him, if I didn’t love him.

I loved him so much.

“Please,” I whispered. “Please, please.”

“Anything for you,” Jonathan said, pushing against me even harder. “Everything for you.”

His relentless rhythm defeated me, and I screwed my eyes shut as I came, shuddering and trembling and doing all I could to not scream out in pleasure. I clapped a hand over my own mouth as I heard somebody using the copy machine located nearby. I had to fight the urge to giggle shrilly in my panic.

“Hold on, baby,” Jonathan said, kissing me breathless. “We’re not done yet.”

There was more? I didn’t think I could handle another round. When Jonathan unfastened my jeans and peeled them away from my still thrumming body, I knew I was in real trouble.

“Jon, I can’t,” I whispered desperately, seizing his hands as they tried to worm their way under me in search of my bra clasp. “I can’t stay silent. It feels too good. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“Me, in trouble?” Jonathan laughed outright. “The CEO doesn’t get in trouble, Michelle. Or so I’m told. I could have you screaming nonsense words in here and no one would say anything.”

“They’d all talk about it,” I said. “Think of your reputation.”

“Think of how good you’re about to feel,” he said, his every word a dark, delicious promise. I hissed as his fingers plunged between my labia, sliding easily through the slick folds. My traitorous body responded to his every move, anticipating the pleasure that was to come.

I gave up. There was nothing I could do but give in. Jonathan was bound and determined to give me this pleasure. All I had to do was accept it—as quietly as possible.

Jonathan took off his jeans, and I licked my lips, liking the way his erection made a tent out of his boxers. I liked the fact that he was attracted to me, especially because my scar made me wonder sometimes. Here was physical proof that I had the same effect on him as he did on me.

“Are you ready?” Jonathan asked. The hum of the copy machine died down, and I imagined the worker returning to his or her desk. They would walk right by here, walk right by the room where Jonathan and I were both half naked, getting ready to have hot, hot sex on the floor. The thought was electrifying, and it made me wish for a moment to have a bird’s eye view of our situation, Jonathan and I making love and the rest of the Wharton Group employees hard at work just a short distance away. My mental picture of it made me part my legs, made me put my own hand against my wet pussy and rub it invitingly.

“Come and get your dessert,” I said, blushing as I said it. I didn’t have any experience with talking dirty, and I didn’t want to sound like a fool. But we had talked about dessert. And I knew Jonathan had quite a sweet tooth when it came to sex.