Cinderella and the Playboy / The Texan's Happily-Ever-After: Cinderella and the Playboy / The Texas Billionaire's Baby
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She studied him, contemplating an answer to what was clearly an invitation.
His lips brushed her ear. “Aren’t you wondering what other appetites I have?” he teased, lazy amusement underlaid with darker, more volatile emotions.
She tilted her head and his mouth brushed over her cheek, with scant inches separating his lips from hers. “I was considering asking,” she said quietly. “But decided I should give the subject more thought before asking questions that might provoke dangerous answers.”
“I’d be happy to answer any questions, Jennifer,” he told her. “Dangerous or not.” Heat flared in his dark, heavy-lidded gaze.
“I’ve never been a woman who courts danger,” she murmured. “I’ve always preferred safe and sane.”
“You’re safe with me, Jennifer,” he muttered, pressing his lips to her temple. “I’d never hurt a woman, especially you.” His arms tightened as he swept her into a series of fast, graceful turns.
“I believe you,” she replied softly once she was back in his embrace. “At least, not physically. But you’re a very attractive man, Chance, and a woman could lose her heart to you.”
“Could she?” he rasped, his voice deeper.
“Yes.” She nodded, her hair brushing the underside of his chin and his throat. “I don’t want a broken heart, Chance.”
“I won’t break your heart. Come home with me, Jennifer.” His fingers trailed over her cheek, tucked a tendril of soft hair behind her ear, and returned to brush over her lower lip. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.”
“I don’t sleep around,” she told him honestly. They’d stopped dancing but still stood within the circle of each other’s arms. Beyond the balustrade, the lights of the city glowed while on the street below, the faint sounds of traffic drifted upward. Down the length of the stone veranda they’d traversed, a series of French doors were thrown open to the ballroom. Gold light poured out, illuminating the guests at the other end of the veranda as some strolled or leaned on the wide, chest-high stone bulwark and some danced, swaying in time to the orchestra’s lush notes. Chance and Jennifer were alone at their end of the long veranda, shadowed except for the spill of soft light that fell through the glass panes of the French doors beside them, drawn closed against the crowded ballroom inside. The yellow light highlighted his face and she searched his features. “In fact…I haven’t been with a man since my divorce, and that was more than five years ago.”
His eyes darkened, his mouth a sensual curve. “Honey, that’s a damned shame. A woman as beautiful as you should be loved often and well.” He bent and brushed his mouth over hers, then lingered to slowly trace her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. “Come home with me. Please.”
He urged her closer until she rested against his chest, her thighs aligned with his. Jennifer shuddered at the press of her breasts against hard muscles.
“I don’t want to complicate my life,” she managed to get out. She struggled to remember why she needed to resist him, closing her eyes against the heat that bloomed beneath his lips as he traced the arch of her throat. “Or yours,” she added.
“This doesn’t have to be complicated,” he murmured, his lips on her throat, just below her ear. “It can be whatever we want it to be.”
An enticing shiver ran down her spine, and Jenny knew she couldn’t resist him. “Just tonight,” she whispered. She forced her eyes open and leaned back, cupping his jaw in her palm to tilt his head up. Beard stubble rasped faintly against the sensitive pads of her fingertips, his eyes ablaze with need. “No complications—and after tonight, we go back to waitress and customer. Can we do that?”
She read the objection that flared in his eyes and saw the swift refusal on his face as his jaw flexed and muscles tightened beneath her hand.
“Please,” she said softly, desperate to hold on to some shred of control. “I can’t make promises beyond tonight.”
His fingers tightened on her waist and then he nodded. “All right. If tonight’s all you can give me—” he brushed a kiss against her cheek “—I’ll take what I can get.”
His mouth covered hers with searing heat. Her senses were fogged and she was reeling with want when he lifted his head. He tucked her along his side and led her to an exit. After waiting—for what felt like an eternity—for the valet to bring his car, they were off. Threading her fingers through his to keep her close, he laid her hand palm down on his thigh and covered it with his own as they sped through Boston traffic, his touch anchoring her to him. Desire seethed, swirling and heating the air between them in the close confines of the car.
Jennifer was only peripherally aware of the neighborhoods they drove through, her senses focused on the man beside her. When he tapped a control on the dash and then turned off the street and beneath a still-rising garage door, she caught a brief glimpse of the exterior of a brick town house before they pulled in.
Chance switched off the engine, the sudden silence enfolding them. His gaze met hers, heat blazing. “If I touch you before we’re inside, we won’t make it out of the garage.”
She swallowed, throat dry. “Okay.”
He smiled, the sudden amusement easing the tension. “Unless you have a fantasy about making love in the backseat of a Jag.”
She blinked, distracted by the curve of his mouth. “Um, no.”
“Too bad,” he said, his voice suddenly lower, huskier. “The idea has possibilities. But I don’t want our first time to happen in this car, either, so let’s go.”
Chapter Three
Chance took Jennifer’s hand and led her up the stairs, then down the hall to his bedroom.
The clatter of nails on the polished oak floors below was followed by a loud bark.
“That’s Butch,” Chance reassured her.
Jennifer’s eyes widened at the size of the dog racing down the hallway toward them. The black and tan rottweiler skidded to a stop and sat, panting up at Chance with what looked like an ear-to-ear grin.
“I think he’s glad you’re home,” she said, unconsciously inching behind Chance.
“I think you’re right.” He tugged her forward and into the bedroom. “I’m going to put him in the kitchen with food and water. I’ll be right back.” He bent, his mouth taking hers with heated possession. Then he disappeared into the hall, the big dog by his side, tail wagging.
Her legs unsteady, Jennifer sat on the edge of the bed, drawing a deep breath into oxygen-starved lungs. She’d barely gotten her bearings when Chance returned. He strode across the room and caught her hands, drawing her to her feet and into his arms. Her wrap slid to the floor in a pool of red silk at her feet, her small evening bag joining it.
Chance cupped her face in his hands, his gaze intent.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about you being here—in my room. And in my bed.”
He brushed kisses over her jawline, cheeks, temples. Jennifer’s eyes drifted closed and his lips moved softly over her lashes and against her sensitive skin. Just that quickly, she fell back into the haze of need and desire so abruptly interrupted moments before.
She threaded her fingers into the thick, silky dark hair at the nape of his neck and urged him closer until his lips met hers.
Heat built, quickly becoming a firestorm as the kiss turned urgent. Without taking his mouth from hers, Chance lowered the zipper at the skirt of her dress. The backless gown had a sewn-in bra and his fingers stroked over the bare skin of her back.
Jennifer reluctantly lowered her arms from around his neck, a quick shrug sending the loosened gown free to pool at her feet. She knew a moment of self-consciousness when Chance stepped back, his dark eyes searing as he swept her from head to toe with one swift glance. She wore only a tiny pair of red lace bikini panties, thigh-high sheer hose and the red stiletto heels.
“Damn, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, bending to brush a quick, hard kiss against her mouth before taking a step back again.
His gaze focused on hers, he stripped his tie loose and dropped it on the floor, shrugged out of his tux jacket and tossed it behind him.
He caught her waist in his hands and drew her nearer.
“Unbutton my shirt,” he instructed, his voice husky with arousal. His thumbs moved in slow circles, as if he was unable to stop caressing her.
Reassured, Jennifer took only seconds to slip the black studs free. When she finished, Chance took them from her cupped hand and dropped them on the nightstand before holding up his hand. Jennifer unfastened the cuff links, one by one, and dropped them on the pile of studs. Chance immediately shrugged out of the shirt, pulling her flush against him, his hands threading into her hair to tilt her face up to his. When his mouth settled over hers, Jennifer sank into the sensation of his soft lips, gentle and demanding all at once.
The hard muscles of his bare chest teased her sensitive breasts, the fabric of his tux slacks faintly rough against her thighs. And his lips on hers sent desire throbbing through her veins.
She murmured incoherently and Chance laid her back on the bed before he stood, toeing off his shoes, pulling off his socks, unzipping and shoving his pants and boxer shorts down his legs. He bent and pulled open the drawer in the bedside table, ripped open a packet and a second later, rolled on protection. Then he leaned over her, slipping his thumbs under the narrow bands of red lace on her hips to tug her panties down her legs. He dropped the bit of lace and silk on the floor behind him before bending to press a kiss against the faint outward curve of her belly.
Jennifer gasped at the heated brush of his mouth against her sensitive skin. He stroked his tongue over the indentation of her belly button and she moaned. Frantic to have him closer, she tugged at his arms, fingers clutching the hard muscles of his biceps to urge him nearer.
He surged on top of her, his mouth taking hers with urgency, one knee nudging hers apart to make space for him. Then he was inside her. Jennifer cried out, drowning in pleasure and need.
It had been too long for her and, all too soon, Chance drove her over the edge.
Sated and drowsy, she opened her eyes and found him gazing at her, a slow smile curved the sensual line of his mouth.
“I’m guessing it was good.” His words weren’t a question but she nodded, too satisfied and boneless to speak, nonetheless.
“Let’s try it again,” he murmured against her mouth.
And a moment later, despite being certain she couldn’t move a muscle, Jennifer was again burning with heat, twisting urgently beneath his mouth, hands and the steady thrust of his powerful body.
Just after midnight, hunger lured them out of bed and downstairs to raid the refrigerator. Dressed only in Chance’s white tux shirt, the long tails hitting her at mid-thigh and sleeves rolled to her elbows, Jennifer perched on a tall stool and propped her elbow on the island countertop, leaning her chin on her hand. The kitchen was beautifully appointed and everywhere she looked, something drew her eye. But after a quick glance around the room, her gaze returned with fascination to Chance. Grey boxer shorts hung low on his hips as he bent to peer into the refrigerator. His powerful shoulders and chest were bare as were his thighs and long legs. Despite the long hours they’d just spent in the bedroom upstairs and although she’d felt sated and content only moments earlier, heat stirred in her belly once again. She shivered as she contemplated running her palms over his back while his weight pinned her to the bed.
“How do you feel about spaghetti and cheesecake?”
Her eyes widened and she straightened. “Yum. What kind of cheesecake?”
He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Regular, I guess, except it has chocolate on the top.”
“Even better,” she said promptly.
He grinned at her, eyes warming. “You like chocolate?”
“Of course, who doesn’t?” she responded.
“I definitely do. The local café has chocolate crepes so good they can make a grown man cry. We’ll get you some for brunch tomorrow.” He turned back to the refrigerator and moments later, nudged the door closed with his hip because his hands were full of food containers.
“Here, let me help.” She jumped down from the counter and hurried to take a plate of cheesecake from him. He’d balanced it on top of a deep blue casserole dish, where it tilted and wobbled precariously.
“Thanks.” Chance slid the casserole onto the tiled counter and removed the glass lid. He stirred the red sauce and spaghetti noodles and popped the dish into the microwave, set the timer and closed the door.
“I think we should seriously consider cutting a bite of cheesecake while we wait for the spaghetti,” Jennifer told him, eyeing the swirls of dark chocolate on top of the cake.
“Sure, why not.” He took a knife and a fork out of a drawer and joined her, bracketing her against the counter with his arms and body. “You cut.” He laid the utensils on the countertop on each side of the cheesecake and bent to nuzzle his face against her nape. His hands settled on her hipbones.
Jennifer closed her eyes, her body going boneless as she melted back against him. His hands slipped beneath the hem of the white shirt and stroked upward, over her belly and midriff to cup her breasts.
“Ohhhh, that’s not fair,” she moaned as her nipples pebbled against his fingers and her hips settled into the cove of his. She tilted her head back against his shoulder, the thick silk of his hair brushing her throat as he bent over her to press his mouth against the upper curve of her breast.
She twisted in his hold, slipping her arms around his neck, her body pressed flush against his as she tugged his mouth down to hers. His hands cupped her bottom, lifting her higher, and the kiss turned hotter, more carnal.
Behind them, the microwave alarm buzzed loudly as the timer went off.
Chance eased back from the kiss and lifted his head.
“Want to skip the spaghetti and cheesecake and make love on the countertop?” he asked, his voice rasping with need.
Jennifer was torn but before she could decide, her stomach growled. They both laughed.
“That’s it. Food wins,” he declared, pressing one last hard kiss against her mouth and stepping back. “First we’ll feed you, then we’ll get naked again. Let’s go back to bed.”
He reached behind her and picked up the cheesecake plate, handing it to her with the knife and fork. “You carry this, I’ll get the spaghetti.”
“What about plates? And don’t we need another fork?” she asked, still disoriented and flushed.
“Nope.” He used hot pads to remove the casserole of spaghetti and closed the door with his elbow. “We’ll share. But we might need napkins. Grab a couple out of the drawer by your hip, will you?”
Jennifer found snowy-white linen napkins and preceded him down the hall and up the stairs to his bedroom.
Chance tossed the sheet to the bottom of the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing with a thick blue towel. He spread it on the center of the bed and set the casserole on it.
“We’re having a picnic,” she said with delight. “I love picnics and I’ve never had one in bed before.”
“The mattress is more comfortable than the floor.” Chance crooked his finger at her. “And when we’re done eating, the bed’s more comfortable for making love.”
She laughed, balancing the cheesecake in one hand and utensils in the other as she climbed onto the bed, shuffling on her knees to the far side of the folded towel. “Plus,” she told him, setting down the cheesecake, “there are no ants. Always a good thing.”
Chance grabbed her free hand and tugged, tumbling her toward him. He threaded his fingers into her hair and kissed her, his mouth hot. “I love the way you find the good in everything. You’re easy to please.”
“You offered me cheesecake with chocolate.” She raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be pleased?”
“Lots of women would be offended if they weren’t offered champagne and caviar.”
“Hmm.” She eyed him. “I think you’ve been dating the wrong women.”
His eyes laughed at her. “I think you’re right.”
He stabbed the fork into the spaghetti, twirled it, and lifted the pasta to her mouth. “Tell me if it’s hot enough.”
Obediently, she parted her lips and took the bite.
“How is it?” he asked.
“Excellent,” she told him. “Try it.”
They took turns, Chance insisting on feeding her.
When the bowl was empty, Jennifer rolled off the bed and carried the casserole dish to the long oak entertainment center across from the foot of the bed. A flat-screen TV was mounted on a wall bracket and on the polished oak surface below was a stack of books.
“You have a copy of the new Tom Clancy book,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t even know it was out.”
“It’s not. I have a friend at the publishing house and he sent me a copy before the release date.”
Jennifer tilted the stack of books, reading the titles. “You have mystery, suspense and a couple of nonfiction titles.” She picked up one of the books and read the back cover copy. “What other genres do you like? Do you read romantic suspense?”
He frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever read one. Unfortunately, I have to read a lot of medical journals so often my fiction reading has to take second place behind articles.”
“I know what you mean. Textbooks have to come first with me, too.”
“Come here.” Chance patted the bed beside him. “We still have cheesecake to eat.” Jennifer put down the stack of books and walked back to the bed, tucking the shirttails neatly beneath her as she sat.
“I bet you were a cute little girl,” he told her as he cut the cheesecake with the fork.
“What makes you think so?” she teased, opening her mouth to let him feed her.
“Because you sat down as if your mother trained you to tuck in your skirt and sit properly,” he told her with a grin.
“It was my grandmother,” she said without thinking, after she’d swallowed.
“I bet you were your grandmother’s favorite granddaughter,” he told her.
She fed him the bite, fascinated by the movement of strong throat muscles as he swallowed. “I was her only granddaughter,” she murmured absently, trailing her fingertips down his throat to his shoulder.
“You’re an only child, too?” he asked, surprised.
“Yes.” She forced a small smile, deciding to confirm what he probably already knew—that her background was light-years away from what had clearly been his privileged home life. “The only child of divorced parents. My mother declared she didn’t want any more children. She was far too busy meeting new men and having fun. I heard that my father remarried several times and had more children but I’ve never met any of my half-siblings.” She kept her gaze on the cheesecake, precisely cutting another bite. “I doubt my childhood was anything like yours.”
“Hey,” he murmured. His hand cupped her chin, tilting her face gently up until her gaze met his. His dark eyes searched hers. “Except for wishing you were happy, it doesn’t matter to me what your parents were like or where you spent your childhood, Jennifer. All I care about is that you’re here with me now.”
Emotion flooded her. She knew there couldn’t be a future for them. All her time over the next few years was already committed to work, school and Annie. But for this night, she could forget about tomorrow and responsibilities. And if she felt things with Chance she’d never felt with anyone before, she’d worry about that tomorrow, too.
“All we have is right now,” she whispered, lowering the fork to the plate so she could slip her arms around him. “Let’s not waste a moment.”
His dark eyes turned hot. Without releasing her, he shoved the towel, cheesecake and utensils onto the floor and bore her backward, his mouth taking hers as his weight settled over her.
Jennifer welcomed the instant rise of desire that swept over her, erasing all thought of tomorrow. There was only this moment and the heavy, powerfully muscled body on hers as Chance’s fierce passion carried her over the edge once again.
Jennifer was half-awake the following morning when Chance left the bed. He bent over, kissed her, chuckled and with a pat on her bottom covered by the sheet, left her to disappear into the bathroom. She smiled, half opening her eyes and noting the bright sunshine pouring through the open drapes. Then she yawned and rolled over.
It seemed like only a moment before Chance came back into the bedroom, several pieces of clothing tossed over his arm.
“Hey, sleepy woman, wake up! I promised you crepes for breakfast.” He tossed the clothes on the end of the bed. “My mother left some things in the guest room the last time she was here,” he told her, dropping onto the bed to stretch out beside her. “The slacks might be a little short but they’re bound to fit better than a pair of my jeans.”
The bed dipped under his weight, rolling Jennifer toward him. He grinned and caught her, tugging the sheet lower until she was bare from her tousled hair to her belly button.
Chance’s head bent and he trailed his lips over the upper curve of her breasts. “Mmm,” he muttered. “You taste as good as you look.”
Jennifer buried her fingers in the silky thickness of his hair, cradling his head to hold him close as her eyelids drifted closed.
“If we’re going out, I have to shower and get dressed,” she protested drowsily, smiling as he growled in protest. She closed her fingers into fists and tugged his hair, the strands sliding like rough black silk against her fingertips and palms.
Reluctantly, he obeyed her silent demand and lifted his head to look down at her. “We could skip going out and order in—eat Chinese food in bed,” he suggested.
“No.” She laughed softly. “I’m starving and those chocolate crepes sound wonderful.” And she wanted to see a bit more of the pieces of his day-to-day life. The need to know him better, to learn more about the man behind the handsome face and powerful male body, grew stronger with each moment she spent in his company.
“All right,” he grumbled good-naturedly, his hands trailing over her midriff as he rolled onto his side, releasing her so she could slide out of bed. “We’ll take Butch for a walk and get brunch at the café. Then we’ll come back and pick up where we’re leaving off. Deal?”
“Deal.” She flashed him a sassy grin, caught up the pile of clothing from the foot of the bed and slipped into the bathroom. For a moment, she leaned back against the door, eyes closed, a smile on her lips while she reveled in the sheer happiness bubbling through her veins.
A half hour later, Jennifer had showered, pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, smoothed on the lipstick and mascara she’d tucked into her evening bag the night before, and was dressed. She paused to run a quick, assessing glance over her reflection in the long mirrors bracketing the door.
The pale pink silk slacks fit well except for being a trifle short in the leg, the hem hitting her at her anklebone. Which is actually a good thing, she thought, since if the designer label slacks had been longer, she would have surely tripped over them while wearing the strappy red heels. The white silk tank top was snug and since she didn’t have a bra to wear, she’d pulled on a clean white shirt from Chance’s closet. It was much too big, of course, but after rolling the sleeves to her elbow, she decided it worked well enough to conceal her braless state.
In fact, she thought, turning to look over her shoulder at her back view, the outfit was rather chic. The slim-cut slacks hugged her thighs below the hem of the loose white shirt, and the red heels added a touch of Vogue-model fashion to the outfit.
Thanks to Chance’s mother leaving clothes in his guestroom, Jennifer reflected, she was reasonably covered. She’d had a few qualms about the clothing, suspecting it might have really belonged to one of Chance’s girlfriends. But the silk slacks and tank top had a small label with “A. Demetrios” beautifully embroidered in blue and gold thread. Chance had mentioned his parents, John and Anastasia, and Jennifer was confident the “A. Demetrios” was surely his mother.