He framed her face, engulfing it between both hands, and before he took her lips in the hard, hot way his screaming soul demanded, growled, “I’m trying to forget.”
Ten
“With luck, the negotiations will advance, then my lawyers will fly down to…” Marcos trailed off as Virginia strolled into his office the next morning, bringing those long legs with her, her raven curls bouncing with each tiny step her tapered, knee-length skirt allowed.
She stopped to check discreetly on the coffeemaker—directly in Marcos’s line of vision. A bolt of lust arrowed to his groin. Marcos, oh, please, more, more.
Her gasps of last night echoed in his head.
This morning they’d gone at each other like—hell, like two wild animals—before they’d separately headed for the office. He’d asked her to buy something special to wear to the Fintech dinner, to splurge. She hadn’t seemed to be impressed. He wanted to please her, to give her something, and yet the only thing Virginia Hollis seemed to want was him.
Damn, he was totally taken—in a way not even Marissa had taken him before. Virginia’s moans, her body, writhing against his, with his. It maddened him. Heated him. Excited him. Appalled him.
Aware of the abrupt silence in the vast carpeted space, a quiet that magnified her noises as she innocently fiddled with spoons and cups, Marcos jerked his eyes back to the open proposal and tapped his Montblanc pen against the sales projection chart. He cleared his throat. “Where was I?”
“Allende. Marissa Galvez. Negotiations,” Jack said, sprawling on a chair across from his desk.
“Of course.” He dropped his pen and lounged back in his high-backed leather chair, stacking his hands behind his head. He met the Texan’s electric-blue stare. “As soon as negotiations take on a serious note I’ll call in the cavalry and we—”
Virginia leaned down to refill Jack’s coffee, and her proximity to the man made Marcos’s jaw clamp in anger. He felt ridiculously jealous. Yes, diablos, he was totally had.
“We’ll close,” he finished tightly, and slapped the proposal shut. She had no idea, no idea.
Or was she doing this on purpose?
The sunlight that streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Art Deco building shone over her loose hair. But she was frowning, he realized then, somehow worried, and the noose tightened around his neck.
“Miss Hollis,” he said. Last night’s seduction? That ridiculously simple but mouthwateringly sexy outfit? Was all this some sort of plan of hers?
She spun, shocked as if from out of her thoughts. “Yes?”
He reclined in his seat and crossed his arms. She was pale this morning. Guilt assailed him. He hadn’t let her sleep much, had he? “I was telling Mr. Williams about Monterrey.”
She spared a fleeting glance at Jack’s lean, jeans-clad figure, and he shot her one of his disarming grins. “How nice,” she said absently, and lifted the glass coffeepot to Marcos. “More coffee?”
He shook his head, searching for warm emotions in her expression, all of which usually showed on her face as she experienced them. There were none this morning either.
Her desperation last night, her need, her wanting…he’d felt them all. He’d throbbed with every one of them. Today she looked distant. Why?
I’m not Marissa…
His body clenched. No. No. She was not. Virginia was even more dangerous.
“Marissa Galvez is flying in this weekend,” he then offered. Why did he offer this information? Because deep down, her words continued to pull at his heartstrings. Mend Allende. Make it gold again.
Did he dare? Did he even want to?
“Oh. How nice. I’m sure she’ll be more agreeable this time.”
The reply was so noncommittal and so lacking in generosity of feeling that he frowned. When the carved oak doors shut behind her, Jack murmured, “I see.”
“Hmm?” Marcos took a long, warm gulp of coffee.
“I see,” Jack repeated, propping a shiny lizard boot atop his knee.
He drank again, savoring the scent, the warmth of her coffee. Was she sick? “Mine, Jack.”
“Yes, I see.”