The Jarrods: Inheritance: Taming Her Billionaire Boss

“You must be tired,” she said, hoping to ignore what he might think was obvious.

“A little. It’s been a long day.”

And then their eyes met—memories of this morning between them.

She moistened her mouth. “Blake, I—”

He shook his head. “Not yet, Samantha. Let’s eat first. I’m starving and I need to relax a little.”

“Of course.” She swung toward the kitchen. “I’ll serve the dinner.”

“I’ll pour the wine.”

She hurried away, expelling a shaky breath once she reached the privacy of the kitchen. Blake wouldn’t discuss the matter until he was ready, so she would just have to have a little patience. Perhaps it would be best if she had some food in her stomach first.

When she came back carrying the plates of chicken casserole, he was sitting at the table, having poured the wine. He stood up as she approached and took the plates from her. He’d always been a gentleman where she was concerned, holding out her chair or opening doors for her. She knew it was something he did on autopilot.

“You lit the candles,” she said for something to say. “They look really nice.”

He put the plates down on the table. “Andy knows his job.”

She wasn’t sure if that meant Blake had asked for them or if Andy had merely improvised. Did it matter, she asked herself as he held her chair out just as she’d expected.

As she sat down, she glimpsed the tulips on the side table. That was probably why he’d looked at her strangely before going upstairs to change. He must think her so ungrateful.

“Oh, Blake, I should have said something earlier. Thank you so much for the tulips. They’re absolutely gorgeous.”

“You like them, then?” He looked pleased as he sat down opposite her.

“I love them.”

He considered her. “You getting hit on the head was very good for me.”

She blinked. “It was?”

“I learned two things about you. What your favorite flower is, and your favorite color.”

“Want to know my favorite perfume, too?” she joked, touched by his words.

Only he didn’t laugh. “It’s Paris by Yves Saint Laurent,” he said with an unexpected thickness to his voice that made her nerves tingle.

“You know?”

“You bought some the first time we went to Paris together, remember?” He made it sound like they’d been together in Paris for something other than business.

Surprised he remembered that time two years ago when she’d first gone to work for him, she dropped her gaze and fanned her napkin over her lap, though she rather felt like fanning her face instead. “This looks delicious.”

There was a slight pause. “Yes.”

She could feel his eyes on her as she picked up her fork and finally looked at him again. “So, what was the problem in Vegas that you needed to go there in such a hurry?”

A moment ticked by then he picked up his fork. “There was a problem with one of the chefs. He was being a bit too temperamental, and the kitchen staff was threatening to walk out. It was beginning to escalate into a big commotion with the unions. It started to get ugly.”

“And it’s sorted out now?”

“Of course.”

She had to smile. “Naturally. You wouldn’t have come back otherwise, right?”

Suddenly there was an air of watchfulness about him. “What happened to your date with Joel tonight?”

She’d wondered if he’d mention it. And then something else occurred to her. Could he have arranged to get Joel out of the way tonight? The thought made her pulse race. “His cousin’s in Aspen for the night and he wanted to spend time with her.” She tilted her head. “You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?”

His brow rose. “Me? Am I that good?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed on a half chuckle.

A flash of humor crossed his face. “Believe me, I’m not that clever.”

It did sound silly now. Blake could make things happen, but this time he’d have to find Joel’s cousin and get that person to come to Aspen. Why would he bother? He knew he merely had to send her flowers and arrange dinner and she’d capitulate like every woman before her.

“Anyway, how are you feeling?” he asked.

“Terrific.”

He searched her face, then inclined his head as if satisfied. “At least you only worked half the day.”

Her eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

“I checked with Erica. She said you’d left at lunchtime.”

She smiled wryly. “Did she also tell you she checked on me nearly every hour after that?”

“She promised me she would.”

Why was she not surprised? “That was a bit over the top, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t think so.”

She tried not to look more into it than there was. He probably wanted her all better so he could get rid of her faster. Then she knew that wasn’t fair of her and she pulled her thoughts back into line. “You always were concerned for your staff, Blake. Thank you.”

He looked at her strangely, as if he couldn’t understand why she was putting herself in with the rest of his staff. But if that were the case, didn’t that mean he was thinking she was something more to him than she actually was?

God, she had to stop thinking so much!

She picked up her wineglass. “You know, Blake. Erica isn’t as bad as you imagine her to be. I suspect she’d still have kept an eye on me even without you asking her.” She took a sip of her drink but watched him carefully over the rim of her glass.

His brows furrowed. “I guess so.” As much as he appeared to concede the point, he didn’t look totally convinced about Erica’s intentions.

Samantha understood why. “You think she’s only doing something nice for a reason, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Has it occurred to you that the reason is you?” She let him consider that, then added, “Maybe she wants to get to know her brother, and she knows the only way she can do that is to show him she is willing to help him out?”

“Maybe.” He paused. “But she cares for you, too.”

She felt a rush of affection for Erica. “And that goes to show she’s a nice person and worthy of your friendship … if not your love.”

His lips twisted. “The hit on the head seems to have muddled your brain. You think you’re a psychoanalyst now, do you?”

“Where you’re concerned I have to be,” she said without thinking, but knew it was her mention of the word love that had got his back up. Love and Blake Jarrod did not go hand-in-hand.

And neither did Samantha Thompson.

Not with love.

Certainly not with Blake Jarrod.

A curious look passed over his face. “Why would you want to psychoanalyze me anyway?”

This time she thought before speaking. No use giving away more of herself than she needed to. It was best she keep up a wall. He would appreciate her more for that.

She managed a thin smile. “A person likes to figure out how their boss’s mind works. It helps with the job.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Yes, you were always good at that.”

Then … just as she thought she had it all under control, all at once everything rose in her throat. She couldn’t take any more of this subterfuge and talking around things that mattered. “Blake, don’t you think it’s time we talked about last night? You took such good care of me, and then this morning …”

He stilled. “Yes?”

She swallowed hard. She had to ask the next question and she had to be prepared to accept the answer. “I’d like to know what I did wrong.”

His face blanched as he sat forward. “Nothing, Samantha. You did nothing wrong.”

“Then what—”

He drew a breath. “Samantha, are you a virgin?”

She felt her cheeks heat up. “No.”

He looked surprised. “I thought you might be.”

“Well, I’m not,” she said, hunching her shoulders, wondering where this was going to lead.

His expression softened a little. “But you’re not very experienced, are you?”

Okay, so it led to further embarrassment.

She could feel her cheeks redden further. “You must know I … er … haven’t been with a lot of men.”

“How many?”

Her eyes widened. “None of your business.”

“You made it my business this morning.”

She hesitated, then, “One lover when I was a teenager.”

His brow rose. “And none since?” He must have read her thoughts. “You can tell me. I’m not going to tell anyone else.”

So, okay, she would accept that. “Well, there was a man back home ….”

He didn’t blink an eye but she knew she had his attention. “And?”

“We didn’t become lovers, but I was in love with him.”

“What happened?”

Her lips twisted with self-derision. “He wasn’t in love with me.”

Blake nodded. “That explains why you haven’t had any relationships since I’ve known you,” he said, almost to himself. Then his eyes sharpened. “Are you still in love with him?”

“No. Carl left to go overseas and ended up marrying someone else. I realized I’d been in love with the idea of love and that’s all it was.” She sighed. “But it was a good lesson in learning that you can never be sure of another person’s feelings.” Realizing that she was suddenly giving too much away, she tried to be casual. “So, you see, I can only lay claim to one lover and that was a long time ago.”

“I could tell.”

Her composure lurched like a drunken sailor. “I’m sorry. I thought my enthusiasm might make up for any lack of experience.”

“Don’t apologize. Your enthusiasm was great. Damn great,” he said brusquely. “I had a hard time walking away from you.”

Her heart faltered. “You did? I thought you didn’t want me.”

He expelled a harsh breath. “Did my body feel like I didn’t want you?”

She remembered the tense cords of his body burning her flesh through her nightshirt. “No,” she croaked, then had to clear her throat before speaking again. “But what do I know anyway? I thought a man could easily turn it off and on.” Carl certainly had been able to put a stop to anything beyond a few kisses.

“I’m not made of stone like that other guy,” Blake scoffed, reading her mind, but his voice had gentled. “And all this goes to prove to me that I did the right thing this morning. I’m the experienced one here and that means I have a responsibility to you. I’m glad now I didn’t take something from you that you might regret giving later on.”

“You mean my virginity?” Her heart rose in her chest at the respect he’d afforded her.

“Yes.”

“But I’m not a virgin,” she pointed out.

“I know that now.”

He’d rejected her all for nothing? It was admirable, but … “You should have asked me at the time.”

He pursed his mouth. “It’s not only that,” he said, sending her stomach plummeting.

“I see.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” He clenched his jaw. “You were so damn generous, Samantha. You were giving me everything and I was worried that you … er … might look more into this than you should. I just wasn’t sure you could handle any emotional involvement.”

She appreciated where he was coming from with this, but her heart still managed to drop at his words. What was it about her that every man felt they had to warn her off?

“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I’m not planning on repeating history and losing my heart to anyone in the future.”

His eyes searched hers. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Suddenly she felt all-knowing. “Maybe it’s you who can’t handle it, Blake.”

He looked startled, then scowled. “I admit it. I can’t. And to be blunt, I don’t want to even try.” He paused. “But this isn’t about me. I’m thinking of you, Samantha. Not me.”

Her heart tilted. She appreciated his honesty but she could look after herself. And to be equally as honest, how could she give him up without a fight now that she knew he wanted her?

“Blake, thank you for that but you’re doing me an injustice. I’m a grown woman. I know sex doesn’t always mean commitment. I have needs and I know my own mind. I know what I want, and while I’m here …” She looked him straight in the eye. “What I want is you.”

“Hell.”

She flinched. “I’m sorry if that makes things more difficult.”

“Don’t be. It’s your directness, that’s all. It blows me away.”

She felt a rush of warmth. “I do want you, Blake. Very much.”

“Your head—”

“Is on the mend.” She paused, preempting him. “And yes, I’m sure.”

His eyes flared sensuously. “Then do me a favor.”

She moistened her mouth. “What?”

“Go upstairs and put your nightshirt on for me,” he said, his voice turning heavy with huskiness.

She blinked in surprise. “My nightshirt?”

“You looked so sexy in it this morning. I’ve been thinking about it all day. It’s been driving me crazy.”

Sudden awareness danced in her veins. “Does this mean we’re going to—”

“Have sex? Yes.” A tiny pulse beat in his cheekbone. “But only if you’re sure you can handle a purely sexual relationship,” he said, giving her one last out.

Excitement washed over her. He still wanted her.

She nodded. “I can handle it, Blake.”

“Then go change.”

She got to her feet. It was now or never. And right now never definitely wasn’t an option.

Samantha couldn’t deny she was nervous as she came out of her room in her nightshirt and descended the staircase in a pair of high-heeled gold sandals she’d put on at the last moment. The bottom button was missing from her nightshirt, but the material covered her and what did it matter now anyway?

Blake had turned the lamps off and stood by the log fire, watching her in the flickering light with the same look he’d had on his face last Saturday night when she’d dressed for her date with Joel. She’d been trying to capture Blake’s attention that night to make him jealous. Tonight she’d definitely caught more than his attention. Tonight they both knew they would be a part of each other. The power of that thought stunned her.

“Come over here, Samantha,” he said huskily when she reached the bottom step. The air throbbed between them and she quivered, moving forward without a falter as she made her away across the carpet to him.

His blue eyes moved slowly down over her, and something flared in them. “You’re still missing the button,” he said, as if to himself.

She blinked in surprise as she reached him. “You knew it was missing?”

“Oh, yes. It came off this morning in the bathroom … when I lifted you up on the sink.”

She could feel herself go hot all over. “Oh. I hadn’t realized.”

“I know you didn’t,” he said, with a pointed look. He pulled her up against him. “God, you’re so damn sexy, Samantha Thompson,” he murmured, gathering her close. “My very sexy lady.” His body was hard and she trembled. “Now, does that feel like I can turn myself off so easily?” he said thickly, his breath stirring over her face.

The solid warmth of him pressed against her stomach. “No.” The word emerged on a whisper.

“There’s no going back this time,” he said, reassuring that this time he would not walk away.

The deepest longing stirred within her. “Kiss me, Blake.”

He did.

Once … twice … long and slow …

And then he eased back and looked deep into her eyes.

She looked back at him.

Blue on blue.

“I want you in front of the fire,” he murmured, sending her pulse jumping all over the place. “Here. Lie down on the cushions.” She saw he had placed two big cushions near their feet. “Be careful of your head,” he said, helping to lower her to the thick rug, so sweet and caring. She wanted to say it was too late, that she was about to lose her head anyway, only the words wouldn’t come.

Soon she was lying there in her nightshirt and her gold sandals and he was standing over her in the firelight, his gaze scanning the full length of her, before stopping at the junction to her thighs. “You left your panties on,” he mused throatily, telling her the front of her nightshirt must have fallen open at the hem.

She moistened her mouth. “I wanted to take them off, but …”

“I’ll be happy to do the honors …” he said, and her heartbeat quickened, “but in a minute.”

All at once she wanted him so much. “Take off your clothes first, Blake. Don’t make me wait.”

His eyes darkened and he dragged his sweater up over his head, along with his T-shirt, tossing them aside. He kicked off his shoes and his hands went to his belt….

He hesitated.

“Your trousers, too.” She was desperate to see him fully as a man for the first time, the thought making her lightheaded.

Another second, then his hands dropped away from the buckle. “Not yet.” He dropped to his knees beside her, and let his gaze slide along the full length of her, like he was committing her to memory.

But his bare chest beckoned her and she reached out to touch him, her fingers tingling as she came into contact with the dark whorls of hair over hard muscle. He groaned and slammed his hand over hers, stopping it from moving.

“Not yet,” he repeated, putting her hand back down beside her.

And then with slow deliberation he began to undo her top button. She gasped as he undid another and slid her nightshirt off her shoulder a little. “I’ve wanted to do this since this morning,” he murmured, lowering his head and trailing a kiss from the curve of her shoulder to her throat, then down to the valley between her breasts.

He inhaled deeply, then lifted his face and undid another button, exposing her breasts. Soon he was leaning over her, using his mouth to possess the tip of one nipple before moving to the other, gliding his tongue back and forth over them, imprinting them with his taste.

“Oh, my God,” she muttered, shuddering at such an exquisite touch. “I …”

“Steady, my lovely.” He shifted back a little. Another button undone allowed him to drift kisses along the exposed skin to her belly button. She shuddered again when he stroked his palm over her stomach, before the rest of the buttons were unfastened and the material finally parted, falling away to her sides and revealing her near-nakedness to him.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, dipping his fingers under the waistband then peeling the panties down her body. By the time he’d finished, he’d moved to kneel between her thighs. She moaned faintly, suspecting a blush was rolling all the way down to her feet.

“So beautiful.” He slowly reached out and slipped a finger through the triangle of curls, making her gasp. “You like that?”

She moaned again. “Oh, yes.”

For long, heart-stopping moments he toyed with her dampening skin, sending tremors through her. And then he slid his hands under her, cupping the cheeks of her bottom and tilting her lower body up to him, the satin material of her nightshirt falling away fully as his head lowered to the dark V at her thighs.

But before he touched, he stopped and looked up again, his eyes catching hers, holding still. He didn’t speak or move a muscle, but there was a primitive look in his eyes that swept her breath away.

Slowly he lowered his head again and sought her out, his mouth beginning a slow worship of her femininity. She gasped as his tongue slid between her folds, teasing and tantalizing her, stroking her in erotic exploration, taking her to the brink, then bringing her back … once … twice … then finally he took her right over the edge, any remnants of her control disintegrating as she pulsed with the purest of pleasures.

Long moments later, she was still trying to recover when he rose to his feet and stripped off his trousers. She watched mesmerized as he put on a condom, thrilled that she had the power to make this man so hot and hard for her.

He was soon kneeling back down between her legs, and kissing his way right up the center of her until he found her mouth. He gave her one long kiss, then suddenly he was part of her.

In her.

She held him deep inside, finally one with Blake Jarrod. She’d been waiting so long. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

He kissed her deeper as he began to thrust, long strokes time after time. Soon she began to tremble around him, toppling over the edge again, the flickering of the flames in the fireplace nothing compared to their own fire burning within.

Samantha lay amongst the cushions in front of the fire and watched Blake stride toward the downstairs bathroom. He’d covered her with the throw from the couch, and she enjoyed lying there watching his bare back and buttocks that were all firm muscle and arrestingly male.

She smiled to herself in the gentle glow from the fireplace. She couldn’t believe it. She’d made love with Blake. She felt marvelous. He’d been so generous and loving and …

All at once, she found herself blinking back sudden tears. Their lovemaking had been so much more than sex. She hadn’t admitted it to herself until now lest she back out, but when he’d said earlier they were having sex, something had gnawed at her as she’d gone up the stairs. It had sounded like they would merely be having sex for sex’s sake. And while that was somewhat true, that wasn’t what she was only about.

She’d known the same was true for Blake. He’d already proven that by not taking advantage this morning when he’d thought she was a virgin. She’d “made love” with Blake, despite love not being involved. There was respect between them and that was more important to her.

Right then she heard him coming back and she quickly blinked away any suggestion of tears. He wouldn’t want to know. Otherwise he’d think she hadn’t been able to handle it, when it was merely because she hadn’t expected to be quite so touched by all this.

He gave a sexy smile as he dropped down and leaned over to kiss her. “How do you feel?” he murmured, pulling back and looking into her eyes.

She was fully aware of his nakedness next to her. She could easily reach out and touch him. “Wonderful.”

He looked pleased as he lifted the throw and slid under it to lie on his back, pulling her against his chest and kissing the top of her head but being careful of her injury. “Is that better?”

She was glad he couldn’t look into her eyes. “Much.”

He chuckled, his breath stirring her hair. “Who knew, eh?”

“What?”

“That we’d be so good together.”

She’d never doubted it. “We work well together in business, so why not in bed?”

“True.”

After that, they lay in quiet. The fire crackled and the clock on the wall ticked the seconds by. Samantha began to feel sleepy. There was no place she’d rather be in the world right now, she thought, as her eyelids drifted shut and she listened to the tick tock … tick tock … tick … she loved him … tock.

Startled, she jumped. Dear God, she loved him.

“What’s wrong?”

Her brain stumbled. Panic whorled inside her. The ability to speak deserted her for a moment … and then somehow she pulled herself together. “What? Oh, nothing. I think I fell asleep too fast.”

“Don’t worry. There’s no chance of that happening again just yet.” He put his hand under her chin, lowering his head and lifting her mouth up to his. She quickly closed her eyes, hiding them from him, hiding her deepest secret. She’d betrayed him by falling in love with him. And she’d betrayed herself. She hadn’t wanted to love him. She had never intended for that to happen.

Then he kissed her and the slow, delicious process of making love to her started again. She prayed to God for the strength not to reveal her love for this man who was leaving his mark on her like no one had ever done before. She couldn’t afford to give her feelings away, or their relationship would be over before it had really begun. Wanting Blake had been hard enough.

Loving him was going to be intolerable.

Eight

Blake made love to her many times during the night, both downstairs and in his bed. Samantha had never known such bliss, but by the time the next morning rolled around and she’d gone back to her own room to get dressed for work, she had a thousand worries inside her head. She loved Blake and that presented so many problems. She’d virtually promised him she wouldn’t fall for him. Now it seemed like she’d gone back on her word.