The robe was divine, if huge. Its quality was all that Jess would expect from a multi-millionaire, a man used to the finest of everything.
How wealthy was he? It sounded as if his entire family was wealthy, loaded with old money.
She ran her fingers over the deep pile of the towelling, loving its density. Was this one of his personal robes? He’d obviously driven himself to Windsor, but that wasn’t to say he didn’t have a cadre of minions who’d arrived here separately. PAs and concierge type people who could source anything he desired at the snap of his long, elegant fingers. It’d been around an hour since she’d got out of his car. Plenty of time for diligent gofers to convey this robe from his hotel, or somewhere, to here. She tweaked the lapel as she peered into the mirror.
Oh, hell, Jess! Just look at you! What a fright!
All semblance of style had fled from her hair, and even an attempt to dry it on one of Jacobson’s towels hadn’t done much to improve matters.
Was this what women looked like fresh from Ellis McKenna’s bed? Hair all messy, recently ravished body swathed in his dressing gown? She breathed in deeply, but the garment mainly smelled of laundry. Mainly.
There was a hint of something, something spicy but very faint, an echo of the delicious aura of shaving lotion that hung around him.
Perhaps he had worn it before her? A heavy shudder rippled through her, dark and deep.
Damn! I can’t lurk around in here, fiddling with his bathrobe. It might not even be his. What if old Jacobson has a dressing gown fetish and it’s his, not Ellis McKenna’s?
Again, the surreal nature of the day hit her. How had this happened? It was all completely crazy, like a badly scripted film.
And yet it was real, and there was a beautiful man who could have been the star of last night’s fantasy waiting for her out in the office, a man who could do things to her without even touching her. Without her even knowing anything about him other than his public persona in the broadest of terms.
As she put her hand on the bathroom doorknob, she wished she knew more about him. The takeover of Windsor was a done deal, nothing any of the staff could do about it, so she’d not really taken much interest in Ellis McKenna. There’d been a rather small photo of him in the staff newsletter, and a lot of financial stuff, but she’d not really thought about the man himself. Now she wished she’d Googled him, found out more about him as a person rather than a business Leviathan. At least that way she’d have had a better arsenal at her disposal in order to deal with him. Facts. Mundane or otherwise, to ground her and stop her mind racing to those most dangerous places in his presence, the unknown country of bed and sex and pleasure.
He rose as she entered the room, unfurling himself from the furthest sofa, elegant and sleek, sophisticated despite his crumpled, lived-in clothing and the fact, she now noticed, that he wasn’t even wearing any socks inside his casual canvas shoes.
‘There, that’s better,’ he said, advancing on her, hand outstretched. For a moment Jess wondered what he was doing, but then he took her damp skirt from her, and darted across the room to arrange it carefully across the radiator. The room was nice and warm now. Had Ellis been feeling the cold? His holiday clothing seemed to suggest he’d recently arrived from hotter climes.
‘Please, Jessica, sit down and relax,’ he urged, returning to her and slipping a confident arm around her shoulders as if they were old friends, old lovers; almost as if he’d eavesdropped on her fantasies. He guided her to one of the sofas, and then set her pulse racing all over again by flopping down beside her, rather than on the one opposite. ‘Hot chocolate?’ he asked, nodding to the tray at his side on one of the small tables.
‘Yes, please!’ The lovely cocoa smell made her stomach rumble. There’d been neither time nor appetite for breakfast this morning.
‘And cookies too, by the sound of that growling stomach?’ His grin was so impish, so boyish. Somehow it was hard to take umbrage at his high-handedness, or be awed by his status. He was clearly enjoying himself. Why shouldn’t she enjoy herself too?
‘Absolutely. I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning.’
‘Tut, tut, Jessica! That’s very unwise. Breakfast is important. Even if your hideous ogre of a new boss is visiting.’ He put one of the large white china cups into her hands, tucking a couple of biscuits onto the saucer. For the first time, she registered the narrow golden band on his ring finger. She’d seen it before, she realised, when ogling his strong, elegant hands, yet somehow skipped over it. He’d been just an unattainable man giving her a lift, his marital status not an issue when barely moments of interaction were involved.
‘In fact, especially when the big ogre boss is visiting,’ he continued, ‘you never know quite what you’ll need all your strength for.’ He gave her that wink again, so sly and naughty, a clear sexual challenge.
Stay calm … stay calm … Men as hot as he is are natural flirts, even when they’re married. They just can’t help themselves.
The hot chocolate was divine though, and just cool enough to allow a long, reviving sip. She took one, then another, and then met his sea-blue gaze.
‘You’re not an ogre, Mr McKenna, and nobody calls me Jessica as a rule, just “Jess”.’ Good God, she couldn’t imagine ever saying that to old Jacobson in this room, but it seemed easy with Ellis McKenna.
‘“Jess” … I like that.’ He paused, and took a sip of his own chocolate, his tongue lingering suggestively over his lower lip. ‘And I’m “Ellis” … and you don’t know me well enough to know whether I’m an ogre yet. But I’m hoping we can rectify that soon.’
Jess nibbled a biscuit. Finished it. It was heavenly, soft and buttery and crammed with juicy sultanas, but she barely tasted it. What was he talking about? Was he really coming on to her? She sat up straighter on the deep sofa, trying to regain a semblance of control of her wits. Sitting here, with this beautiful man, and feeling his effect on her, was addling her brain.
‘Look, Mr McKenna, what am I doing here? I’m just your employee. One of thousands I don’t doubt. I … I shouldn’t be sitting here with you, half dressed, scoffing biscuits and drinking hot chocolate. It’s … um … well, it’s not right.’
He laughed, a clear, light, joyous sound. Damn him, he was so relaxed. This was all so easy to him, while she had no clue how to act.
‘I’m “Ellis”. Call me “Ellis”, I beg of you.’ He set down his cup and swivelled to sit and face her. ‘And you’re not “just” an employee to me.’ He fixed her with his penetrating gaze. ‘Don’t you realise that?’ A slight, intent frown puckered his brow, almost as if he wanted to see her – read her – more accurately.
Jess put her cup aside, even though the chocolate was delicious, and reviving. She didn’t want to spill it because her hands were shaking madly. ‘No, I don’t realise anything. This is all too weird. Fantastical … like something out of one of those novels with a pair of handcuffs or a lace blindfold on the cover, not real life.’ She flashed a pointed look at his ring finger, then cursed herself for a prissy Victorian miss. But then, she was one, really, wasn’t she? Apart from the era. And it didn’t sit right with her, him making a pass when he was married. It wasn’t … heroic.
‘I’m real,’ said Ellis softly, reaching and enfolding her fingers in his. Raising their joined hands, he tilted his left one, making the narrow ring glint. ‘And if that bothers you, Jess, I’m not married any more. I’m a widower.’ For just an instant, the playful light went out of him, and his face was stark and sad. Then, just as quickly, his sunny charm was back again, on full beam, like something he could flip on and off at will.
Jess’s mind prepared to run off down a path of speculation. Just how long ago had his wife died? Did he still love her? She opened her mouth, to say ‘I’m sorry,’ but then, almost as if to rein her back in from such thoughts, Ellis gave her what could only be described as a quelling look, and started to rub her palms and her fingers, massaging firmly but at the same time with great gentleness. No discussion of his marriage allowed then.
‘You’re cold. Why is that? The heating’s almost tropical now, but you’re still shivering,’ he said. There was speculation in his eyes, and on his handsome face, almost puzzlement.
He doesn’t get it because he’s not used to women who don’t have a clue. He’s used to partners … and a wife … who know how to respond.
The realisation made her shake harder. Ellis’s smooth brow puckered in a frown, and then his eyes widened, and brightened. He looked as if he were about to gasp. And perhaps to accuse her of her ‘secret’.
‘I’m sorry. I’m just nervous. You’re my big boss and you could sack me, just like that.’ Such nonsense. She barely knew him but she knew instinctively that even though he was a demigod of wealth and power he would not go back on the word he’d just given to everyone. He was a good and fair man and he wouldn’t just sack anyone out of hand.
Strong, smooth hands tightened around hers. He tipped his head on one side. ‘I told you all. I’m not planning to sack anybody,’ he confirmed, pausing to flick his tongue out again, provocative and swift, touching his lower lip ‘although I would like to offer you a new position, Jess.’
Oh God … Oh God … Oh God …
The devil-glint in his eyes was unmistakable, even to her.
But why, why? She was just … just herself … and he was the Master of the Universe.
But as fast as the demonic sparkle had appeared, it was gone, replaced by what seemed awfully like remorse.
‘Ah, I know. Too much, too soon. Please forgive me, Jess.’ He sighed, a deep gusty sound. The quality of his hold on her changed, and became even gentler, less charged. He frowned again, and then ran his hand up her arm, under the big, loose sleeve of the robe. ‘Is the rest of you as cold as your hands?’
A rapier stab of pain hit her, almost palpable. She was cold, in every sense. There was something wrong with her. She’d never felt anything with a man. If it hadn’t been for her lurid fantasies and her episodes of self-pleasure, she’d have been convinced she was an ice-ball of frigidity.
Until today. Oh the bloody idiotic irony of it all. She’d finally met a man she could fancy, even if she wasn’t sure she actually liked him all that much. Dream Lover … but certainly not Mr Right.
‘What’s wrong, Jess?’
‘I’m not cold. I’m not … It’s just …’
He surged forward, and suddenly she was in his arms. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. No, never like that.’ He kissed her hair, lightly and chastely. Too goddamn chastely. ‘Your skin is cold. You are shivering.’ He pulled away a little way, and gave her a smile, possibly the sweetest one she’d ever seen, yet she guessed he could wield it like a weapon when he needed to. ‘I bet your feet are cold too. Let me give you a foot massage, Jess. I’m really good at it. Go on … give me a chance.’
He was right. Her feet were like blocks of ice. And his hands were warm, so warm …
‘Yes, I think I’d like that.’ She’d like it a lot. His hands on her. Feet were a safe location though, not dangerous. ‘My feet are a bit chilly. It was the soggy shoes, I guess.’
Oh, what the hell am I babbling about? The most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen … He made a pass at me. I’m sure he did. And of course … I back off. I am frigid!
Ellis slid off the settee and settled on his knees in front of her. Grinning up at her, he shrugged out of his jacket and flung it haphazardly in the general direction of the seat. As it slid off onto the floor, he ignored it, and unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling up the sleeves of his pale patterned shirt.
Flowers. Delicate little flowers, in blue and green. How can he be wearing a poncy flowered shirt and still be the very essence of a man?
Then he laid his hands gently upon her.
The sensation of his touch was so intense that she gasped, and the gasp was reflected in his face in an expression of puzzled surprise, that morphed into triumph. Well, not exactly, more a strange satisfaction. ‘Whoa, don’t worry. I won’t hurt you,’ he said quietly, his thumbs starting to work, firm yet gentle, and somehow managing not to tickle, even though she was usually ticklish.
Instead, banners of heat unfurled inside her. They started in her chilly feet, but within heartbeats deployed in other areas too. Her throat, her back … deep in her belly.
Oh hell, I don’t know whether I like this. Oh God, I do! Yes, I do!
How could he do that? How could he caress her feet, yet it feel like he had his hands all over her body, moving, moving and pleasuring? The urge to wriggle was excruciating, like an engine revving inside her. Equally intense was the desire to plunge her fingers into his thick dark hair and draw his face towards her. So he could give her another pleasure elsewhere that she’d only fantasised about …
She clenched her fists hard on the seat beside her.
‘What’s wrong? Don’t you like it? Your feet really are chilled.’
‘I’m fine. It’s all right. But maybe I should be going. Everybody will wonder what the hell I’m doing up here. Especially old Jacobson and his cohorts.’
Ellis’s fingers stilled, but he didn’t let go. In fact, for a moment he looked down at her foot, in his hands, and Jess almost imagined he was going to dip forward and kiss it. Good God, she was going mad!
‘Why would you care what he thinks? What anyone thinks?’ His eyes were harder suddenly, but still beautiful.
‘Of course I care.’ She tried to pull away her foot, but his hold was implacable. Both feather-light and unyielding at the same time. ‘Mr Jacobson is my boss. He’ll still be here when you’re long gone, and things might be weird for me if I hang around much longer with you.’
He gave her a long look, a strange complex scrutiny. Was he weighing up what to say next? And what the hell might that be in this bizarre, peculiar situation. The weirdest she’d experienced in her life.
‘Nothing will happen to you, Jess. Nothing that you don’t want to happen.’ His thumb moved slowly over her skin, and then, just as if she’d been prescient, he did swoop forward and press a kiss against her toes. ‘And if anything I’ve done today makes life awkward for you, Jess, you have my word that I’ll do everything in my power to set things right. That’s a promise.’
His voice was vehement, almost wild, and his eyes harder than ever. But Jess hardly noticed it. All she could register was that kiss, that fleeting kiss, his mouth against the tender skin of her foot.
‘That’s stupid. Why would you do that? I’m nothing to you. Just one of thousands of drones you employ.’ Her voice sounded strange to her own ears, reedy, almost feverish.
He released her foot, but before she could spring away, he captured the other and kissed that too.
‘I’d do it because I want you, and I think you want me.’
Jess’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t frame words. She blinked, only just resisting the urge to shake her head and clear it. So she could wake up from this weird extension to one of her own night-time fantasies and find herself back at her desk, doodling a sketch on her notepad, trying to capture the essence of the eyes, the lips, the hands of a man she’d never see again.
‘Ah … I see I’ve gone too far again,’ murmured Ellis, releasing her foot and pushing himself upwards, sitting beside her. ‘I’m sorry, I do that … I do it a lot …’ He snagged his plush lower lip between his teeth. His eyes glittered. ‘But mostly, the women I do it with are right on the same page with me. Often several pages ahead.’ Was that a world-weary note? As an ultra-wealthy, no longer married man he was a prime catch.
Jess was still numbed. Every nerve in her body was in a firing tumult, yet incapable of making her move. Overload. That was what it was. Overload.
He took her hands and kissed them too, one after the other.
‘What’s different about you, Jess?’ His scrutiny bored into her, blue-green fire, setting her alight, freeing her from her paralysed state, sending new patterns of instructions to her nerves and sinews, the blind, carnal command to surge forward, throw her arms around him. Kiss him … touch him … know him. Know him and compel him to know her.
Don’t be bloody ridiculous!
She tried to struggle. To rise. He still held her in that tender, implacable way.
‘What is it? What is it?’ he continued softly, as if musing to himself as he raised her hand to his lips again and kissed her palm this time, gentle yet provocative. She felt the brush of his soft stubble against her skin. ‘There’s something about you, some mystery, and it’s driving me crazy. Making me act like a barbarian.’ He kissed the other palm this time. ‘It’s exhilarating though. Exciting … Are you excited?’
‘No, not in the slightest!’ Finding strength at last from somewhere, Jess snatched her hands away, and sprang to her feet. She was such a liar. She’d never been more excited in her life. In every sense of the word. ‘And there’s nothing in the slightest bit special or different about me, Mr McKenna, as you’d quickly discover. Now, may I go? I’ve a lot of work to do.’
Not waiting for his answer, she marched across to the radiator and her skirt. For an instant, she considered retreating to Jacobson’s bathroom again, but it would only waste time. Instead, she quickly shrugged out of the robe, tossed it over the radiator and reached for her skirt. Trying not to imagine what Ellis McKenna was seeing, she stepped into the skirt and zipped it up smartly. The hem was almost completely dry now, but it wouldn’t have mattered if the entire garment was dripping wet. She had to get out of there.
Her shoes were almost dry too, when she stepped into them.
Damn, her bag was on the settee, close to where he was sitting, and watching her. His eyes were bright, yet his expression was slightly perplexed; he was still puzzling over her. Probably quite a new experience for someone so confident in himself and his ability to weigh people up.
You’ve probably never met a virgin over twenty-five before, so you don’t recognise one when you see her.
‘You are special, Jess, and I’d love to know your secret …’ He rose to his feet, but didn’t approach her. It felt like a standoff, the O.K. Corral, or a Fistful of Dollars. ‘You’re bright and intelligent. You’re smart and brave. And you’re beautiful. But there’s something else. Will you tell me?’ His gorgeous eyes narrowed, and he drew out the moment. Then he deployed a weapon the Man with No Name had never possessed, his beautiful, quizzical, complicated, almost entreating smile. ‘Please?’
‘Alright already, if you insist.’ Her heart revved up. What the hell was she doing? ‘That secret you’re so desperate to know is … I’m a virgin!’