Captivated by the Tycoon (The Whittakers #4)(22)
Author: Anna DePalo

He nodded, looking around. “But sentimentally decorated.”

She cast him a look from the corner of her eyes. “You mean, unlike your palatial spread?”

He smiled at her gibe. “Hardly a palace, but yeah, in contrast to my place. Though thanks to you, these days my condo is looking a lot better.”

“The kitchen is off the foyer, where you entered.” She waved to her right. “And off this short hallway is the bathroom and bedroom.”

She tried to see the apartment through his eyes. The furnishings were simple but elegant and feminine. She’d hunted long and hard for furniture that was compact, not wanting to overwhelm her small place.

The main room was a combination living room and dining room, with a small blond dinette table near the foyer and a comfortable deep-cushioned sofa and leather armchair near the windows at the opposite end. Carved fretwork lined the edges of the coffee table she’d bought at a flea market. Framed photos occupied a couple of side tables, and a bookcase stood against the far wall.

After a moment, she headed into the bedroom, and Matt followed. She could almost feel the heat he radiated as if the sun were on her back.

She spotted Felix napping in the middle of her red-and-white toile bedcover.

“So this is the famous Felix,” Matt said from behind her.

Felix opened his eyes, then stretched.

“I picked him up at a shelter after…”

She’d almost said, after she got back from her honeymoon trip with her sister, but she’d stopped herself.

“Yes, Candace told me.”

She watched as Matt bent to pet her orange tabby, but Felix jumped down and rubbed himself against Matt’s trouser legs.

“He’s a tiger,” she said wryly.

Matt chuckled. “Yeah, I can see that.”

After a moment, Felix ambled out of the room, and she said, “He must have sensed the treat you brought him.”

She glanced around her room and wondered again at the impression her apartment made on Matt. Her bedroom furniture was cherrywood with rattan cane accents, neither frilly nor spare. She’d treated herself to it as a reward for making Ideal Match a small success.

Matt watched Felix depart, then his eyes came back to hers.

Silence reigned. Palpable, hot and sexually charged.

They’d danced around the issues long enough, and they both knew it.

“Why—”

“Let’s—”

They both started speaking at once, then stopped.

He nodded for her to go ahead.

She rubbed damp palms against her jeans and suppressed a nervous laugh.

Matt Whittaker in her bedroom. Life rarely got more surprising.

She wet her lips and took a deep breath. “Why are you here?”

A nerve jumped in his jaw. “To tell you I’d take back what I said if I could. I know you aren’t looking for a quick payoff.”

“But you want to be let out of your deal with Ideal Match,” she jumped in.

“Yes—”

Her stomach plummeted.

“I mean, no.” He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Her stomach plunged further. It was crazy. She still both did and didn’t want him as a client. She was both angry at him and yet yearning for him.

At the same time, in the back of her mind, she noted she’d never seen Matt Whittaker so frustrated.

Then she thought back to their last encounter and corrected herself. Well, maybe on one other occasion.

“I don’t want to date Bethany or Melanie or Valerie,” he said flatly.

“We’ve already established that.”

“I don’t want to date women you think Parker would have liked to marry.”

She opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. The words were harsh, brutal…and true.

“I want you.”

Her heart leaped. “I’m not available.”

He looked around. “Why? Felix is the jealous type?”

“Felix is a cat. He leads a solitary existence.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

She didn’t want to say. It was intimate stuff, and she’d be exposed as a fraud.

He walked toward her. “Once burned, twice shy?”

“You could say so.”

He set his hands at her waist.

“Then let’s take it from the top,” he said gently.

She must have looked worried, because he added, “It’s been a while for you?”

“Since the wedding.” The admission slipped out.

He registered no surprise. “We’ll take it slow.”

He bent his head, and she knew he was going to kiss her. He stopped, however, and searched her face for a moment.

When his mouth did meet hers, it was just a feathery brush of the lips, but enough to make her shiver.

It was the first dash of color on a blank canvas, where he was the artist and she was his creation.

He moved his lips softly and gently, nibbling away at her tension, his hands stroking up and down her arms.

She sighed as some of her anxiety left her. Parker had never had the patience to go slow.

They stood there like that for the longest time.

Lifting his head finally, he murmured, “I read somewhere that sex for women is in the brain.”

“Mmm.”

There was a slight swaying, lulling motion to their embrace.

He rained little kisses over her face as his hands went to the pearlized snaps of her cardigan, gently pulling them apart.

Sensing her slight stiffening, he murmured against her temple, “Shh. Trust me.”

He undressed her leisurely, telling her how beautiful she was and how desirable he found her.

Along the way, she pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders and let it slip to the floor.

“That’s right,” he encouraged in a low voice. “Show me what you want.”

He loosened his tie and tossed it aside, then set to work on his cuff links and the buttons of his shirt.

When he pulled off the shirt, he revealed the hard, lean, sun-kissed expanse of his chest.

“Touch me,” he urged.

And she did, admiring the way the light and shadows cast by the bedside lamp highlighted the smooth muscles of his arms and chest.

The hard bulge beneath his belt gave her pause, but when her eyes traveled back up to his, he said quietly, “I want you.”

She thought about being possessed by him and shivered with awareness. Five years ago, he’d been a remote stranger at the periphery of her life, but had still, even then, managed to evoke a deep, primal response from her—one she’d been reluctant to acknowledge at the time.