Magenta Mine (Invertary 3)

His forehead rested on her lower stomach, and she felt him relax. “You bet your life you love me.” He sounded smug.

Magenta lifted her head. She blinked back tears of hope that threatened, and aimed for sounding lighthearted. “Are you going to finish this now?”

“Oh yeah.” Harry gave her a satisfied grin.

His skilled lips and tongue devoured her, and ten seconds later she was flying. The world disappeared. Perfect. It was perfect. When she came back to earth, she was lying sprawled on the bed with Harry over her. The heat from his skin soothed her. He brushed her hair away from her face, placing a kiss on her nose.

“I love you too, Magenta,” he said against her lips.

Her heart stuttered at the words. Hope bloomed within her. She wanted him. She wanted to believe they could get past their differences. She wanted it so much it hurt.

Slowly, she felt him inch inside her. Harry. Her Harry. The only man she’d ever loved. He’d been everything to her. Her whole world. She wanted that again. Desperately. His soft kisses snatched her gasps and moans as he joined with her.

“I love you,” he told her again. “Only you. Forever.”

The words were said solemnly. A promise she was desperate to believe. As he held himself on straining arms above her, Magenta cupped his face in her hands.

“I do love you, you bully,” she said.

His grin was pure sunshine. “One of these days you’ll tell me without insulting me at the same time.”

That made her laugh. A laugh that turned into a desperate gasp as he moved within her. She wrapped her arms around him and let herself drift away, floating on waves of sensation.

Perfect.

20

Harry was buzzing from making love to Magenta. If he’d had his way, he’d have never let her out of bed. He could still feel her on his skin. Feel her wrapped around him. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He had no words for it. Except perfection.

He’d smiled when she’d come down from the high of making love. After her shower, she was grumpy and annoyed. Although she didn’t say it, he was pretty sure she was mad that she’d admitted her feelings. He could live with that. He was under no illusions as to how stubborn his woman could be. His woman. He grinned at the thought. Man, he loved that crazy girl so much it hurt.

When Magenta had stomped off to work, complaining that she was late and protesting that words said under duress didn’t count, Harry headed to his meeting with Rachel. They were looking at the office space again. He planned to sign the lease then go over to the local secondary school to talk to Magenta’s old English teacher.

He was certain Magenta was dyslexic. Harry had a friend in London who was dyslexic, a very successful and intelligent friend. Harry knew the signs. He also knew that it wasn’t related to IQ. The fact Magenta had come to believe she was stupid because of it made him want to punch something. Or someone. Lots of someones.

“What are you frowning at?” Rachel said.

They were checking out the new office space one last time before Harry signed the lease.

“Something Magenta said that I didn’t like.” More accurately, something the people around her had told her time and again. It made him cold with rage to think about it.

Rachel folded her arms over a severe royal-blue shift dress and tapped the toe of her red Louboutin shoe on the linoleum-covered floor. He knew they were Louboutin shoes because Rachel had given him a lecture on the designer’s trademark being red leather soles. To say that Harry couldn’t have cared less would have been putting it mildly.

“Aren’t you finished chasing that girl?” She waved a dismissive hand. “Let’s forget this lease thing and move back to London, where we have a perfectly decent office set up. One that’s close to Sloane Square instead of being close to Invertary’s only pub.” She sniffed in disgust.

“Stop being such a snob, Rachel. The landscape here is beautiful. The air is fresh. People fight to live in places like this.”

“Some of us would rather be surrounded by culture.”

He rolled his eyes, making sure she saw it. “There’s culture here. Scottish culture. You don’t get better than that.”

“Save me the Braveheart speeches. We’ve had enough of that for one trip.”

Harry walked over to the window that looked out over the loch and smiled. This was the spot he’d set up his machines. That way, when he looked up from his latest code he could stare out at the blue water and lush green hills.

“Set it up. We’ll sign today,” he told her.

“I really have to object. Again. You only want to do this because you have a hard-on for the Goth. Is that a reason to move your company? She doesn’t even want you. Why can’t you take the hint and let us go home?”