Staring at the top of the gray box, she ran her finger over the glinting silver logo of Saks Fifth Avenue. Her heart contracted while she mentally pleaded, don’t let this be what I think.
She held her breath and pulled the ribbon. Once it came undone, she removed the top of the box—and there it was, making her heart stop. The gorgeous, coveted Balenciaga bag—only the most frequently featured bag in every magazine in the world for the past few years. It was beautiful and unexpected and yet it made her feel…horrible.
“Holden, I don’t need this,” she whispered, looking up at him seriously. “Is this why you arrived so late, you were buying me this?”
Though his smile didn’t falter, he eyed her warily, as if he knew he was now treading on dangerous territory. “No. I asked my mother to help me find something you’d like—she picked it for you. She told me you’d like it.”
Although she’d somehow known this would be his answer it still hurt, and her face paled to a sickly white at his words. She dropped her eyes and stared unseeingly down at the open box, saying, “Oh.”
Of course, what did she expect? Since she was his assistant and couldn’t help him out on this occasion, he’d sent his mother instead. It was perfectly convenient. Perfectly Holden, who couldn’t spare the precious few minutes to choose something for a woman himself—and Lucy was no different than the others.
“Hey,” he said in puzzlement, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forcing her to meet his gaze. When he looked into her eyes, his smile completely vanished. “You don’t like it,” he said flatly.
“Oh no, I love it. I just…can’t accept it.”
Not if he’d bought it, and not if his mom had bought it. It made no difference, she realized. Accepting the gift would feel like payment for services rendered, as if she were getting a bonus for having slept with him—and she wasn’t a whore.
“Why not?”
Gone was the smiling, tender man of a few seconds ago. She watched the transformation, saw the glint in his eyes fade, his lips resume a straight, tense position, saw his jaw stiffen and square. He dropped his hand to his side. “Why not, Lucy?”
“Because it’ll make me feel like a slut!” she finally cried, rising from the bed and clenching her fists to her sides. “I don’t need payment for sleeping with you, Holden.”
“It’s not a payment for sleeping with me, it’s a frigging present!”
“What for?”
He took a precious long time in replying. She pursed her lips in distaste when she realized he couldn’t even find another valid reason for giving her this bag. No matter how precious this beauty had been to her, she wouldn’t accept it and sell herself, not for this bag, not for anything.
Finally he said, “I don’t know what for, because women like it!”
“Really? Well I don’t know a single woman who appreciates a man who sends out someone else to buy his presents!”
A hellish moment later, he said very slowly, “So…that’s what it’s all about. My mother.” He looked enlightened at this discovery.
“No. It’s not your mother. In fact, I like your mother very much. It’s you, Holden. You may be a great investor, but when it comes to women, you know zip!”
He laughed, the horrible sound ringing in her ears. It was a dry, rusted sound, full of sarcasm. “Funny, you don’t say that when I’m screwing your brains out.”
“I’m glad your dirty talk makes you feel better, because right now my hands are aching to slap you and that would make me feel much better too!”
He inched his face closer, his jaw set tight, the look in his eyes wild. “Do it, Lucy. Slap me.”
She sank her nails into her palms to keep from doing so, and instead glowered at him, not even bothering to hide her rage. She was furious at him, but furious at herself too—for letting herself care. For getting involved with her boss. For complicating her already-difficult career goals. And for putting her heart at risk—a heart she had never known to be as vulnerable as it was right now, on the brink of shattering to pieces.
“Slap me, Lucy!” he ordered furiously.
Suddenly she felt weak and hunched her shoulders in defeat when she realized this was useless.
“I can’t do this, Holden,” she said, her voice barely audible. She didn’t even have the strength to look him in the eye when she spoke, so she stared down at the Persian rug instead. Deep in her bones, she’d known she couldn’t last in this position, not when she was lusting after her boss this way. Things were getting complicated. He’d just fired one of his most prized men because of her. “I’ll have my resignation on Mr. Phelps’ desk tomorrow morning.” She rose and started toward the door.
“Wait. Lucy, wait.”
She paused without turning, not sure whether she was willing to face him because she really didn’t feel like crying in front of him and was but a breath away from doing so.
“Take this.”
Bracing herself, she turned around just as he grabbed the smaller box from the nightstand and slowly came forward to hand it to her. She didn’t even look at it, all her attention focused on him. His face was shadowed by the lamplight as he stood a few feet away from her. The mellow light etched his handsome features in deep, strong angles and shadows that made him look like a mystical prince of darkness—one that was getting angrier by the second, with flaring nostrils and tightening pectorals.
“Take it,” he demanded, nudging her with the box.
When she didn’t move to do so, he fairly shoved the box into her hands and she instinctively clutched it to her chest.
“Open it.”
No matter what he said, she was not going to open it. She was already starting to feel like some sort of kept woman, and accepting anything from him at this point would only make her feel worse.
“I said open it.”
“I don’t want anything from you, Holden!”
Growling, he yanked the box from her hands and tore it open. She sucked in an audible breath when he pulled out a beautiful long dress shimmering in a light yellow fabric, with nine large circles resembling coins scattered over the lower part of the skirt, each one embroidered with a central five-point star.
“Nine of Pentacles.”
“Excuse me?” Lucy asked, lifting her gaze to his.
“The woman said you’d just been in the store. She said you were the Nine of Pentacles.”
Lucy suddenly felt like swooning. “You—you went to the costume shop to buy me this dress?”
Her hands shook as he handed it to her, his fingers lightly brushing hers. “It’s supposed to be a costume. For the benefit tomorrow.”
“But…what about Miranda?”
“I cancelled.”
If he’d put a bullet through her chest, Lucy was sure it would have hurt less. She’d accused him—wrongly so—and she’d misjudged and abused his character. Could she do anything worse today—could she do any more damage on this horrible, horrible day? She’d nearly been raped, quit her job, and gone ahead and fallen in love with Patrick Holden.
Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she gazed into his eyes. He stood with his hands fisted at his sides, his face fierce and cautious and gorgeous. She deeply regretted not having bought him a prince costume, with tights and crown and everything, because right now, all she wanted was to put on this silly, princess-looking costume and fling herself into his arms, pretending they could live happily ever after.
“Go with me, Lucy.”
His words were not a command, they were a gentle plea from him as a man, and the tender way he spoke them made her want to weep.
“Holden, I…” Her voice cracked, so she swallowed past her tears and said, “Thank you. I’d love to go.”
He hesitated, his fingers curling and uncurling at his sides, as if he were aching to touch her but didn’t want to. It was better that he didn’t, because the slightest gesture on his part would have crumbled down the frail little wall of fortitude she’d erected and sent her bu
rsting into tears.
“Pick you up at eight?” he asked softly.
Lucy swallowed hard and nodded. Then she clutched the costume to her chest as if her life depended on it and went home.
Five
Holden missed his donuts.
But more than that, he missed his beautiful, smart and sexy assistant. He missed her so much he was sick with it. He didn’t know why they’d had that fight. He still didn’t quite understand why she’d been so angry. He’d expected her to be swept off her feet, overcome with love and lust, and to fall into his arms—as she should have.
She’d resigned and left instead.
Holden had tossed in his bed the whole night, damning every second because he spent them alone when he should have spent them next to her warm, pliant body. It then struck him how falling in love didn’t take all that much time. One minute you were fine, and the next you were not.
In the hopes of giving her something, something she’d like, something she’d treasure, he’d gone and blown it, giving her a handbag. What Lucy wanted, he now realized, was something else. Spirited, beautiful Lucy Divine wanted it all…and damn her, she didn’t seem inclined to settle for less. If he wanted her—and he did!—he was just going to have to give it his best shot.
The problem was he had no idea how to go about it. He was completely new to this being in love business. It was damned scary, to say the least. How was he supposed to know about romance anyway? All he knew were stocks and companies…
There was a tap on the door and he snapped, “I’m busy!”
Whoever had ignored and was still pushing the door open was fired. He was already setting his expression to “pissed” only to stop and promptly gape when Miss Lucy Divine appeared. Holden would have never imagined a woman could look so beautiful after putting a man through so much hell. It was simply not fair. He found not only his cock giving a little salute, but his heart rate accelerating tenfold just by looking at her.
She wore a simple black dress that reached her knees, sheer black stockings and high heels. Her blonde hair tumbled past her shoulders in a silken waterfall, and for a moment he ached to bury his face in it and smell its sweet, intoxicating scent. Her sexy face, which he now knew by memory, looked cleanly scrubbed and her skin glowed peachy. Her eyes shone golden as she looked at him from across the room—they had the biggest effect on him of all.
“Good morning Holden,” she said softly, closing the door behind her.
“I…er…didn’t expect to see you here,” he said in the most casual way possible—he gave himself a grade of ten for trying and a five in execution.
“I was just at Phelps’ office,” she explained as she slowly crossed his office and set a white box on his desk. He hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying it. “I thought you might like these.”
Holden stared down at the cardboard box, dumbstruck when he realized what it was. She’d brought him donuts. Holden had no idea why something so simple, so meaningless, could mean so much to him.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice sounding uncommonly strained.
“Holden,” she began as she took a step backward, her eyes steady on his. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have acted that way. It was childish and…you didn’t deserve it.”
He sat there, all these emotions tumbling inside him, a thousand words he wished to say shuffling through his brain, and all he could do was stare at her as if he’d gone stupid.
At his silence, Lucy bit her lower lip. “I’d better go.”
That got him moving, and fast. He bounded after her, twirled her around when she reached the double doors and pinned her back against the sturdy wood. Pinioning her wrists to each side of her face, he bent forward so that his lips were only a breath from hers.
“You’re not leaving until you kiss me,” he said thickly.
It wasn’t a question. It was a fact. And to prove it, he dipped his head and took possession of her mouth, blending his lips with hers. Holden was a man of guts, a man of instinct and passion, and with all the fire that burned inside him, the fire that burned for her, he slid his tongue into her sweet, warm mouth and conquered it. Claimed it as his.
She met his strength and passion with equal thrusts of her tongue, and he groaned in pleasure at the unleashed fury of her kiss and how intoxicatingly sweet she tasted. He was getting painfully close to the part he most longed for, where he would be buried balls-deep inside her—he’d already wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her curvy body against his and grinding his cock against that sweet little pussy—when she pulled away, short of breath.
“Holden, I can’t,” she said breathlessly.
Then she frowned, thinking better of it, and said, “Okay, just one more.”
Grabbing the collar of his shirt, she pulled him forward so that their lips fused together again. He was good at following orders—at least the precious few he agreed with one hundred percent, and this was damned well one of them. He immediately picked up where they’d left off. God, she was sweet. Sweeter than donuts. Her lips were soft and pliant under his, her tongue thirsty. He offered some release to his aching fingers and sank them into the warm haven of her lioness hair.
Her greedy little hands roamed his body, skimming past his shoulders until finally settling on his back. She splayed her fingers and pulled him closer to her. Wanting to taste and lick and kiss every inch of her skin, he moved his hungry lips to her chin and first licked and swirled, then kissed her there. Then he moved his mouth along her jaw and upward, having a sudden craving for her earlobe.
A sound of distress tore through her lips. “Holden, I really can’t…”
He grunted and continued his pursuit of her sweet, delectable little earlobe.
“Holden…it’s your mother,” she explained breathlessly, her palms gently pushing at his chest.
He groaned in protest, his mother being the last thing on his mind right now, and continued his onslaught, now trailing his tongue down the soft, ripe skin of her neck.
“Holden, your mother is waiting for me downstairs. In the car.”
Holden paused while her words sank in, and when they did he fought the despicable urge to curse his own mother. He pulled back with a scowl that said he did not appreciate this turn of events. “What the hell does she want now?” he demanded, not hiding his irritation.
Lucy grinned sheepishly. “She says Fridays are spa days and insisted I accompany her. She’s afraid I won’t look presentable tonight if I don’t have a manicure.”
He glowered at her for a full minute and then bent down to give her a soft kiss on the lips that only served to enhance the ache in his dick even more. “Never bring me donuts again unless you’re willing to spare me at least an hour to thank you properly,” he said seriously.
Lucy smiled at him, that same smile Holden had recently discovered did wonders for his ego. “I’ll be sure to make a note of it.”
He took her little hands in his bigger ones and gently squeezed them. “If you let anyone do anything to your hair,” he warned, “I’m going to be really pissed.”
“And here I thought someone once said you didn’t like blondes,” she said, laughing before she pulled the doors open and breezily walked past his secretaries toward the elevators. Holden caught sight of their puzzled expressions and merely smiled at all three of them before he slammed his office doors shut.
Slowly he went back to his desk and plopped down on his chair with a big, dopey smile.
She’d brought him donuts—and not because he was paying her to.
If he didn’t love her already, he’d have fallen for that. Hard.
“A girl could really get used to this,” Lucy muttered in a semi-dazed state, her eyes fixed unseeingly at the ceiling while a pair of expert hands slowly lathered her hair and massaged her scalp.
“Um-hum,” Irene mumbled from the chair beside her. “Just wait until we get to the pedicure. You’ll be so relaxed you won’t even be able to walk.”
&n
bsp; Lucy considered that for a moment. “I hope that’s not entirely true, Irene,” she said, because she had every intention of dancing with Holden tonight at the benefit—and afterward doing the same thing, but naked and in the dark.
“I told Patrick I’m not returning that bag to the store, Divine,” Irene suddenly said. “It’s a very comfortable, lightweight bag and I’m just going to have to keep it.”
“You should. I think it’s the loveliest bag ever.”
“What I can’t understand is why you wouldn’t keep it.”
Lucy remained silent and closed her eyes as the hot water trickled past her scalp and hair. She didn’t want to relive that precise moment of her life, much less discuss it in the middle of a busy spa-salon for everyone within earshot to hear.
“He’s never done that for anyone, you know,” Irene offered. “No matter how big a hotshot he is, he’s still a little insecure in the romance department.”
If Irene hadn’t spoken in her usual loud-as-a-train-wreck voice, Lucy would have sworn she’d heard wrong. “What do you mean?”
“I think it was the fact that I raised him all by myself and I was a bit too pushy. I should have coddled him more. I remember—”
“Not that, Irene, the other part,” Lucy interjected.
“Oh yes, well. As far as I know, he’s never given a woman anything.”
“What about Katrina?”
“Oh, pooh! That was only me wishing, dear. I’m afraid my son was never interested, even if she was. He didn’t encourage her in the least.”
Lucy stared blankly at the ceiling, fairly certain Holden wouldn’t divulge the details of his personal relationships to his mother. “Well, I clearly remember purchasing a gift on his behalf for—” Suddenly aware of the fact that the hands on her scalp had an owner, she decided not to mention names and instead finished, “Someone special.”
“That’s just because he was trying to make you quit, dear. I know for sure that he never intended to give her anything. He just needed an excuse to have you running all around town, which is why you had to take it back, didn’t you?”