&n
bsp; "That isn't true. For the past month you haven't even spoken to me, much less touched me."
"Which is your fault entirely. If you hadn't jumped to the wrong conclusion again, we could have been enjoying each other all this time. Instead, you caused us both misery.
She lifted her head to give him a searching look. "Were you really miserable?"
The comer of his mouth kicked up in amusement as, in reply, he took her hand and guided it to the stiff bulge in his trousers. "As miserable as a man can get."
"Oh," Jessica said, color rising to her cheeks.
Still smiling, Devlin bent to kiss her bare throat. Jess's blood temperature shot up an instant ten degrees. His seductive touch vividly reminded her of how much she had missed him, how much she had ached for him to do just this to her. When his mouth moved lower, to her bosom, and his tongue shot out to trace hot little circles on the swells of her breasts, Jess's knees nearly buckled beneath her. "D-Devlin . . ." she moaned.
"Damn, but I'd like to find a bed."
"Me . . . too."
His chuckle was a breathy rasp against her skin. "Didn't anyone ever tell you you're not supposed to go to bed with a man who isn't your husband, Miss Jess?"
"My mother told me . . . but she didn't even take her own advice."
"If it weren't for the throng of guests on the other side of this door, I'd take you right here. You've never made love standing up."
Her passion-hazed eyes widened in surprise as he lifted his head. "Can you really do it that way?"
His seductive smile was wickedness itself. "There are countless ways, angel, and I want to show you every one."
Her heart tumbled over itself at his remark. "Oh, Devlin."
"Call me Garrett. And stop looking at me that way, sweetheart. My control is tenuous enough as it is without your beautiful eyes begging me to bury myself inside you."
"You . . . think I have beautiful eyes?"
"God, yes. And you look gorgeous in that gown. The only thing I'd like better than seeing you in that gown is seeing you out of it. But I suppose I'll have to restrain myself. A score of people saw us leave, and your reputation is already on shaky ground. If I were to do what I'd like to do to you, I'd no doubt have to deal with both Riley and Burke—and two irate fathers are a little more than I want to tackle at once. One of them is going to come looking for you any minute now, I expect. And in any case, you and I need to get a few things straight first."
"Like what?"
"Like where we go from here."
"Riley says"—Jess hesitated shyly—"that you're thinking about . . . settling down."
"Does he? Riley's a smart man."
Jess suddenly grew interested in the top button of Devlin's waistcoat. "He said . . . maybe you might want a wife."
"That's a distinct possibility. But I doubt you would be interested in the position." When Jess raised her anxious gaze to his, Devlin cocked an eyebrow. "You'd have to take me as your husband then, and I could never manage to measure up to your standards. No man could. They're damn near sainthood."
His tone was teasing, but his expression was entirely serious; Jess didn't know whether to be relieved or distraught. "I don't want a saint for a husband," she mumbled.
"Well, then, there's the matter of my bank account. First I was too poor for you. Then I was too rich."
Squirming, Jess could barely meet his penetrating gaze. "I never objected to your being poor. It's just that I thought you were a good-for-nothing gambler."
"So now I'm a good-for-nothing moneybags." His eyes narrowed. "You've got to get over this obsessive idea that rich men are all alike, Jessica. We're not—any more than all poor men are alike."
"I know that . . . now."
"And if you'd think about it, you would realize it isn't power and wealth you object to, but the misuse of power and wealth."