That's it, he thought, sitting up. That's where he went wrong.
He'd been rushing her too much, pressuring her without meaning to. She needed time to grow comfortable with him, with them.
He knew without asking that she wasn't sexually experienced. There was an innocent air about her. Even the way she looked at him was youthful, hopeful, lacking pretension. He knew she rarely dated. In fact, he didn't know when she'd last gone out.
No wonder she was scared. She probably stood there at the back of the church listening to the heavy-handed organist, overpowered by the lilies, and imagined all the things she'd never done, wondering if sex with him would even be enjoyable or if it'd be something she'd have to endure like the Victorian wife who stared at the ceiling, gritting her teeth and bearing it for God and country.
He reluctantly smiled. Poor Winnie.
She had no idea that he'd never, ever rush her into bed. She hadn't a clue that he loved foreplay, loved the feel of a woman, and the unique way a woman was made. He relished curves, adored the female shape, and had a particular weakness for a soft, bare mouth.
Like Winnie's soft, bare mouth.
His body hardened just thinking about the kiss earlier.
She'd shivered in his arms. He'd felt her helpless response and he knew then that if she responded to his kiss like that, she'd be just as sensitive in bed.
What he needed to do was woo her. Wine her, dine her, make impossibly slow love to her. She'd eventually discover that love wasn't the only thing that helped cement a relationship. He might not love her in the romantic poetry sense, but he could offer Winnie trust, respect, companionship, and best of all, sexual compatibility.
Morgan stood up, stretched, and gratefully headed for bed. Now that he'd identified the problem, he'd come up with a solution. Now, if he were lucky, he might even get a little sleep.
****
Although in her job she rarely left the office, and when she did, it was to sit across from Morgan in the limousine, take dictation, prep him for meetings, and make last-minute travel arrangements. But she'd never been on his plane, or taken a trip anywhere with him until now.
When the Learjet landed an hour ago on St. Jermaine's narrow airstrip, Winnie felt a wave of excitement. For the next week she'd be virtually alone on a private tropical island with Morgan Grady, New York's Sexiest Bachelor. If that wasn't an adventure, she didn't know what was.
A young man in a bright print shirt driving a white Jeep had met them at the airstrip and ferried them the half mile to the house.
They'd driven through a dense grove of coconut trees on the way to the house and Winnie had peeled off her linen blazer to relish the island breeze. The blazer matched her beige linen skirt and without the blazer she was quite comfortable in her camisole top.
In the shade of the coconut grove Winnie drew a deep breath, feeling for the first time a moment of peace. With the emerald hills, turquoise cove, and white powdery sand, it almost felt like paradise.
Morgan's bungalow on St. Jermaine's, if five thousand elegant square feet could be called a bungalow, looked like something out of Architectural Digest.
It was an absolutely stunning space, all creams and taupe, floor-to-ceiling windows that opened completely to let in the cool sea breeze, with gleaming hardwood floors.
Hands on her hips, Winnie inspected his collection of folk and Caribbean art. The bright canvases and sculpture were a contrast to the cool neutral walls and furniture.
"This is not a beach house," she said, transfixed by the canvases depicting trees and oceans, exploding volcanoes and dancing people.
"Sure it is. It's just got style, that's all," Morgan retorted as Mr. Foley moved past them, heading toward the kitchen where he intended to take control of the menu, the grocery list, and the cook.
During the three-hour flight from New York, Winnie had learned that Mr. Foley accompanied Morgan on most trips, ensuring Morgan's comfort and saving him from having to attend to irritating domestic details.
Rather like her job.
Morgan took her on a brief tour of the house, showing her the central living areas before leading her down a wide, highly polished hallway to a very private wing of guestrooms.
"Your room's here," he said, opening a door, revealing a spacious suite decorated in apricot and cream. "I'm on the other side. There is a house phone, though, in case you need me."
She turned her back on the massive four-poster bed not wanting that kind of visual just now. "I won't need you."
One black eyebrow rose. "You sound so sure." Winnie shrugged, feeling a little cavalier. She rather liked being with Morgan one on one, away from the office. She felt more equal, less dependent. It wasn't as if she needed his approval anymore. What was the worst that could happen now? He'd fire her?
"I won't need you," she said sweetly, crossing her arms over her chest. "If I think about the history of our relationship, it's you that needs me."
His eyebrow arched higher. "How is it that I need you?"
She felt rather feisty just then, and more than a bit wicked. He'd always been so in control and she'd followed him around like a puppy dog.
Winnie smiled.
"You're the one always desperate to find me. At work you lean on the intercom, shoot constant e-mails to me, hound me by cell phone. In fact the last time I left my pager on my desk, you practically had a nervous breakdown.'
"That's a gross exaggeration!"
Winnie took a step back as he stepped forward.
"Maybe, but it's still true. When have I needed you for anything?' '
Her arch question was met by complete silence. His dark blue eyes met hers, held, and she saw a flicker there, in the dark blue depths, a hot blue fire she'd never seen before.
Winnie felt a tiny thrill, followed by a surge of adrenaline. Morgan was looking at her, really looking at her, and he liked what he saw. It wasn't an external thing, it was something else, something deeper, more basic, and there was heat in his eyes, heat in the way he leaned a little closer and then a little closer.
Very slowly, very deliberately Morgan placed his right hand on the wall next to her shoulders, and then his left hand, trapping her there between him and the wall.
He leaned even closer, until their bodies were nearly touching.
"I think you have needs, Winnie."
His voice was so husky. His warmth was tangible.
She felt her tummy tighten. "Of course I do. I need eight hours' sleep each night, three nutritious meals every day, twenty minutes' exercise-"
"Naked, in my bed."
Winnie's mouth dropped open, then blushing furiously, she snapped it closed. She scrambled to think of something to say but nothing smart or succinct came to mind.
Morgan leaned closer still, and whispered in her ear.
"Actually, twenty minutes is nothing. I recommend a minimum of forty." Glints shone in his eyes. "Sixty whenever possible."
Still blushing, she lifted her chin, her heart beating faster in a one-two dance that made her feel very aware and very alive. "Thank you for the offer, Mr. Grady, but I believe there'll be plenty of exercise opportunities on St. Jermaine's without having to put yourself out."
"Really?'
She fought the urge to smile. Her imagination was running wild just now. She could picture his style of warm-up, the vigorous aerobic activity and the recommended cool-down. "Better yet, the things I have in mind require no nudity."
"Nudity's nice."
"I prefer my clothes."
Morgan's mouth practically grazed her sensitive earlobe. "Then you haven't found the right... activity ... yet."
She loved the feel of his lips on the curve of her ear and the tender skin below. A delicious shiver raced through her as he caught her ear between his teeth and held it there.
He was teasing her, tormenting her and she loved it.
How bad was that? She actually liked that he was making her ache inside, making her feel a fierce and dri
ving need.
"Come on, Winnie, admit that you'd enjoy nude activity with me."
She grinned. He made sex sound lighthearted, even fun. She was amused and intrigued. "I don't know. Maybe ... after I'm tired of everything else there is to do on the island."
His lips touched her neck very briefly, very lightly.
"Like what?"
"Everything," she sighed, voice dropping, heat growing.