Matched To Mr Right

“Really?” The disbelief in her voice settled that weight a little deeper. She seemed so disheartened by what was such a small blip in the evening.

Daniella was his wife, not a casual date he might or might not see again. The very act of making her his wife changed everything. He wanted her to be happy, which he hadn’t planned, could never have predicted. Not only did he want her to be happy, he’d discovered a healthy drive to care for her and ensure her security. He wanted her to know she could depend on him, always.

Problem being, of course, that his experience with serious relationships started and ended with the woman in front of him.

He nodded, scouting for a way to put a smile back on her face. “If nothing else, you can take solace in the fact that your wardrobe malfunction didn’t take place on national TV.”

She laughed, as he’d intended. The resurrection of his hard-on, he hadn’t. But who could blame him? Her laugh curled through him like fine wine and came coupled with the distinct memory of her beautiful breast.

The secluded alcove grew close and heavy with awareness as she locked on to his gaze. Her irises warmed. “Thank you for rescuing me. It was very chivalrous.”

The back of his neck heated at the adoration in her eyes. He felt like a fake. There wasn’t a romantic bone in his body. “I wouldn’t have abandoned you.”

“Your button.” Without breaking eye contact, she touched it with her fingertips. “It’s loose.”

“No problem.” He swallowed and his throat was on fire. Everything was on fire. “I have another one.”

Slim eyebrows arched as she cocked her head. Loose tendrils of dark brown hair fell against her cheeks and he barely resisted an urge to tuck them back for her. And as a treat for himself. The shiny, slightly wavy locks would be soft against his fingers.

“Should we rejoin the party?” she asked in an incredible show of courage. Not many people would walk back into a room where they’d performed a free peep show. His admiration for her swelled. “As long as I don’t move around too much, I should stay tucked away.”

His gaze dropped to her cleavage automatically. She was quite tucked away, but the promise of what he knew lay beneath the fabric teased him. How easily he could thumb down that dress and run the pads across those taut nipples. No effort required at all. No one could see them back here behind the sculpture.

He sucked in a hot breath.

“Leo,” she murmured and slid lithe fingers along his lapels, straightening them as she traveled south.

“Hmm?” She was so close he could see golden flecks in her eyes. Raw energy radiated from her, wrapping around him in a heated veil.

“The party?” Her lips met on the last syllable and he recalled how they’d sparked against his when he’d kissed her at their wedding ceremony.

This was like a first date, wasn’t it? He’d kissed women on dates, lots of times. It might even be considered expected. A major disappointment if he didn’t do it.

Would kissing her be as hot the second time? Hotter?

His curiosity would only be satisfied one way.

“We should go back. Shouldn’t we?” she asked. But she stood there, frozen, peeking up from beneath her lashes coyly, as if she could read the intent in his eyes.

Yes. They should go back. His body strained toward her, desperate to be closer.

The scent of strawberries wafted to him on a sensuous cloud as she swayed into his space. Or maybe he was the one who moved.

Like honey, he thought as their bodies met. Their lips touched hesitantly, then firmly, deliberately, and his mind pushed out everything except the sizzle of flesh on flesh.

His wife’s mouth opened under his and he swept her deep into his embrace as he kissed her. His back hit the wall but he scarcely noticed as Daniella came alive, hands in his hair, her mouth strong and ferocious against his.

Hunger thundered through his veins. His hips circled against hers involuntarily, uncontrollably as he sought to ease the ache she’d inflamed. With one hand, he enveloped her neck and pushed, tipping her head back so he could open her wider, then tentatively stroked her tongue with his.

She stroked him back, deeper, harder. Leo groaned against her mouth. She kissed like a horny teenager’s fantasy. Deep. Wet. Carnal.

Those perfect breasts haunted him. Touch them, his libido begged. The temptation was almost too much to bear, but he feared if he gave in to it, he might never surface.

Home. They could go home. Right now. They lived together, after all.

If he took her home, he could strip that dress away to taste every peak and valley of his wife’s body. Especially the parts he hadn’t yet seen but could feel easily through the silky drape of cloth over her luscious skin.

The kiss deepened, heating further, enflaming his skin. Desire screamed through his body. He’d never kissed a woman on a date quite like this. Hell, he’d never kissed a woman like this ever, not even in bed.

She was luring him into a dark pit of need and surfacing suddenly wasn’t so appealing.

He trailed openmouthed kisses along her throat and palmed her sexy rear again. Unbelievably, this incredible, stimulating woman was his. She moaned under his touch and her head fell back.

“Leo,” she murmured as he slipped a pin from her fancy done-up hair. “Don’t you need to go back?”

As if she’d thrown a bucket of water over him, his lust-hazed bubble burst. They were in the hallway of a hotel and his wife was reminding him of the importance of circulating at the alumni ceremony.

He pulled back to breathe the cool air of sanity. “I do.”

Her face remained composed, but a storm of desire brewed in her gaze, one he suspected would easily explode again with his touch. She’d been just as turned on as he had.

“Till later, then?” she asked.

Oh, no. That wouldn’t do at all. Focus, Reynolds.

At least four people he must speak with mingled in the ballroom less than a hundred yards away and his wife’s mussed hair and plump, kiss-stung lips alone threatened to steal his composure. If he had to suffer through the rest of the night while anticipating later, nothing of consequence would be accomplished.

You’re weak, the nasty voice of his conscience whispered. And that was the real reason he couldn’t lose his single-mindedness.

If he let himself indulge—in drawing, in a woman, in anything other than the goal—he’d be lost. Look what had just happened with a simple kiss.

He released her and his body cooled a degree or two. It wasn’t enough to erase the imprint of her in his senses. “I apologize. That was inappropriate. Please, take a few moments in the ladies’ room and meet me back in the ballroom. We’ll act as if that never happened.”

Disappointment replaced the desire in her expression and made him feel like a world-class jerk.

“If that’s what you want.”

It was absolutely not what he wanted. But distance was what he needed in order to get a measure of control.

This marriage should be the perfect blend of necessity and convenience. Should be. But the possibility of being friends was already out the window due to the curse of his weaknesses, and it would only get worse the further under his skin she dug.

“This is a business event and I haven’t been treating it like one.”

“Of course.” Her tone had become professional, as it should. Even in this, she remained poised, doing her duty as expected, because she wasn’t weak. She was thoroughly brilliant.

He hated putting up a barrier, but she’d become exactly what he’d suspected she would—a disturbance he couldn’t afford.

But she was also proving to be exactly what he’d hoped. The perfect complement of a wife. She deserved happiness and he’d provide no assurance of security—for either of them—if he took his eye off the success of Reynolds Capital Management for even a moment. His wife would not be forced into the poorhouse because of him, like his father had done to Leo’s mother.

No more digressions. It was too dangerous to kiss her. Or think about her as a friend.

Daniella was back in the employee box. She had to stay there.

How in the world was he going to forget what those strawberry-scented lips could do?

Five

Leo was already gone by the time Dannie emerged from her bedroom the next morning. Even though she’d set an alarm, he still beat her.

She’d screwed up at the alumni gala. Leo had been kissing her—oh, my God, had he been kissing her—and then he hit the brakes. Of course work came first, and the woman behind the man should never forget that. But to pretend that kiss hadn’t happened? It was impossible. She wasn’t naive enough to believe she’d break through his shell in one evening, but she thought she’d lifted it a little at least.

At home, his obsession with work shouldn’t be a factor, especially before he left for the office. Tomorrow morning, she’d shove the alarm back thirty minutes. If she beat him to the kitchen, they’d have a chance to talk and maybe share a laugh. Then think about each other fondly over the course of the day.

All good elements of both friendship and marriage.

The next morning she missed him again, and continued to miss him for a week.

Four declined event appointments should have clued her in, but it wasn’t until she caught the startled look on his face when he came out of his bedroom one morning that she realized he’d been avoiding her.

“Good morning.” She smiled despite his wary expression and the fact that she’d been awake since five hoping to catch him.

“Morning.” He nodded and brushed past without another word.

Stung, she watched him retreat down the stairs and vowed not to think about Leo Reynolds the rest of the day. She had a job to do here.

Dannie spent an hour with the staff going over weekly household accounts, then interviewed a prospective maid to replace one who had given notice. She enjoyed organizing Leo’s life. At the alumni gala, she’d navigated Leo’s social circles, recovered from a humiliating dress fail and smiled through dinner with her husband’s ex-girlfriend.

What more could Leo possibly want in a wife?

At four o’clock, Leo texted her with a short message she’d come to expect: I’ll be home late. Make dinner plans on your own.

As she’d been doing for a week. Leo clearly planned to keep her at arm’s length, despite that kiss.

Fuming, she called her mother and invited her over for dinner. Might as well take advantage of the cook Leo kept on staff. She and her mother ate prime rib and lobster bisque, both wonderfully prepared, but neither could keep her attention. Her mother raved about the food, about Dannie’s marriage, about how much she liked her new nurse. Dannie smiled but nothing penetrated the cloud of frustration cloaking what should have been a nice evening with her mom.

As far back as Dannie could remember, her mother had constantly passed on relationship advice: Men don’t stick around. Don’t listen to their pretty words and promises. And variations aplenty espousing the evils of falling in love. The whole point of this arranged marriage was so Dannie wouldn’t end up alone and miserable like her mother. And despite her mother’s best attempts to squash Dannie’s romanticism, it was still there, buried underneath reality.

All men couldn’t be like her father. Leo didn’t flatter her with slick charm, and he’d been nothing but honest with her.

Furthermore, her husband had kissed her passionately, madly, more completely than Dannie had ever been kissed in her life. She couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened or that she didn’t want more than an occasional text message out of her marriage.

They’d never get past being virtual strangers at this rate. Maybe it was for the best, if Jenna’s fate bore any credence to what might become Dannie’s story. But she couldn’t accept that she and Leo would never see each other. Surely they could spend a little time together. An hour. Thirty minutes.

How was she supposed to handle his social commitments and take care of his every need if he kept avoiding her?

After she saw her mother off in the chauffeured car that Dannie couldn’t quite give up yet, she parked on the couch nearest the stairs, determined to wait for Leo until the cows came home, if necessary. They needed to talk.

An hour later, Dannie started to wonder if Leo intended to sleep at the office. He wouldn’t. Would he? Had she screwed up so badly that he couldn’t even stand to be in the same house with her?

She flung her head back on a cushion and stared at the ceiling. He certainly hadn’t lied to her. He did work all the time and she had done nothing to find her own amusements. Because she didn’t want to. She wanted to be Leo’s wife in every sense of the word, or at least she thought she did, despite being given little opportunity to find out.

Another hour passed. This was ridiculous. Not only was he hindering her ability to take care of him, but he’d agreed they could be friends. How did he think friendship developed?

New tactics were in order. Before she could remind herself of all the reasons she shouldn’t, she sent Leo a text message: I heard a noise. I think someone is in the house. Can you come home?

Immediately, he responded: Call the police and hit the intruder alarm.

She rolled her eyes and texted him back: I’m scared. I’d like you to come home.

Leo: Be there as soon as I can.

Bingo. She huffed out a relieved breath. It had been a gamble, but only a small one. Leo had a good heart, which wouldn’t have allowed him to do anything else but come home to his wife.

Twenty minutes later, Leo pulled into the drive at the front of the house. Dannie flicked on the enormous carriage lights flanking the entrance arch, illuminating the wide porch, and met him on the steps.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hard gaze sweeping the shadows behind her.

His frame bristled with tension, saying in no uncertain terms he’d protect her from any threat imaginable, and it pulled a long, liquid flash from her core that sizzled. An intruder wouldn’t stand a chance against so much coiled intensity.

“I’m fine.” In a manner of speaking.

Leo’s dark suit looked as superb on him as a tuxedo did. More so, because he was at full alert inside it, his body all hard and masculine. Warrior Leo made her mouth water. She might have to fan herself.

“Did you call the police?” He ushered her inside quickly, one hand steady at her back.

“No. I didn’t hear the noise again and I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time.” Especially since the noise was entirely fictional. Hopefully, once she hashed things out with Leo, an excuse wouldn’t be necessary to get his attention.

He shot off a series of questions and she answered until he was satisfied there was no imminent danger. “Next time, push the panic button. That’s what the security alarm is for.”

“Did I interrupt something important at work?”

Lines deepened around his eyes as his carriage relaxed and he smiled. “It’s all important. But it’s okay. It’ll still be there in the morning.”

Relaxed Leo was nice, too. So much more approachable. She returned his smile and tugged on his arm. “Then sit down for a minute. Tell me about your day.”

He didn’t budge from his statue impression in the foyer. “Not much to tell. Why don’t you go on up to bed? I’ll hang out downstairs and make sure there’s really nothing to worry about.”

Oh, no, you don’t. “I’m not tired. You’re here. I’m here. Come talk to me for a minute.”

He hefted the messenger bag in his hand a little higher in emphasis with an apologetic shrug. “I have some work to finish up.”

“That’ll be there in the morning, too.” Gently, she took the bag from him and laid it on the Hepplewhite table against the wall, a little surprised he’d let her. “We haven’t talked since the alumni gala.”

The mere mention of it laced the atmosphere with a heaviness that prickled her skin. Leo’s gaze fell on hers and silence stretched between them. Was he remembering the kiss? Or was he still determined to forget about it? If so, she’d like to learn that trick.

“There’s a reason for that,” he finally said.

Her stomach tumbled at his frank admission that he’d been avoiding her. She nodded. “I suspected as much. That’s why I want to talk.”

His gaze swept over her face. “I thought you wanted me to tell you about my day.”

“I do.” She started to reach out but stopped as she took in the firm line of his mouth. “But we need to talk regardless. I was hoping to be a little more civil about it, though.”

“Maybe we can catch up tomorrow.” He picked up the messenger bag from the table, but before he could stride from the foyer, she stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

Arms crossed, she stared him down. “Be straight with me. I can handle it. Are you regretting your choice in wives? Maybe you’re wishing you’d picked Jenna after all?”

The bag slipped from Leo’s hand and thunked to the floor. “Not now, Daniella.”

“You mean not now, and by the way, not ever? When will we have this conversation if not now?” Too annoyed to check her action, she poked a finger in his chest. Being demure had gotten her exactly nowhere. “You’ve been avoiding me. I want to know why. Am I not performing up to your expectations?”

“I’m not avoiding you.” Guilt flitted through his expression, contradicting the statement. “I’ve got three proposals out, the shareholder value on one of my major investments took a forty percent loss over the last week and a start-up I staked declared bankruptcy today. Is that enough truth for you? The reason we haven’t talked is because I’m extremely busy keeping my company afloat.”

The Monet on the wall opposite her swirled into a mess of colors as she shared some of that guilt. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you about the noise. I just wanted to...” See you. Talk to you. Find out if you’ve been thinking of me. “Not be scared.”

Leo’s expression softened and he reached out to grip her shoulder protectively. “You shouldn’t have been. I had the security system installed as soon as you agreed to marry me and it’s top-of-the-line. It would take a SWAT team to breach it. You’re safe here. Do you not feel like you are?”

She stared up into his worried blue eyes and her insides liquefied. He genuinely cared about the answer. “I do.”

It dawned on her then that Leo did a lot behind the scenes—far more than she’d realized. Almost as if he preferred for no one to know about all the wonderful gestures he made or that he was such a kind person underneath. Was he afraid she’d figure out he cared about her more than he let on?

“Good.” The worry slipped from his expression and was replaced with something that looked an awful lot like affection. “The last thing I want is for you to feel anxious or insecure.”

Perfect segue. They shared a drive for security. Surely he’d understand her need to settle things. “You know what would make me feel a lot less anxious? If I knew what was going on between us.” Emboldened by the fact that Leo had cared enough to rush home for her, she went on. “We’re supposed to enjoy each other’s company when we cross paths, but we never cross paths.”

“We just went out a week ago,” he protested with a glint in his eye that warned her to tread carefully.

She wasn’t going to. If Leo pulled another disappearing act, this might be her only chance to make her case. Besides, he said they could talk about anything.

“Exactly. A whole week ago and we haven’t spoken since then, other than a terse ‘Good morning.’ I can’t handle your life if I’m not in it. Besides, our relationship won’t ever develop without deliberate interaction. On both our parts.”

“Daniella.” He put a thumb to his temple. Great, now she was giving him a headache. “What are you asking of me?”

He said it as if she hoped he’d blow through the door and ravish her, when all she really wanted was a conversation over a nice glass of wine. “For starters, call me Dannie. I want to be friends. Don’t you?”

Wariness sprang into his stance. “Depends on your definition of friends. The last time you brought that up, I got the distinct impression it was a euphemism for something else.”

“You mean sex?” Oh, Scarlett had just been chomping at the bit to get in the middle of this conversation, hadn’t she?

Leo gave a short nod. “Well, to be blunt.”

Oh, no. There was that word again. Her last fight with Rob flashed through her mind and she swallowed. Was she trying to ruin everything?

But Leo wasn’t a spineless, insecure guy like Rob who couldn’t handle a woman’s honest opinion. Besides, this was her marriage and she was prepared to go to the mat for it.

“Our marriage apparently calls for blunt. Since I might not get another opportunity to speak to you this century, here it is, spelled out for you. My offer of friendship is not a veiled invitation to jump me.”

His brows rose. “Then what is it?”

Laughter bubbled from her mouth. “Guess I don’t spell as well as I think I do. Didn’t we decide our relationship would eventually be intimate?” Not blunt enough. “Sorry, I mean, that we’d eventually have sex?”

To Leo’s credit, he didn’t flinch. “We did decide that. I envision it happening very far in the future.”

Gee, that made her feel all warm and fuzzy. “Great. Except intimacy is about so much more than shedding clothes, Leo. Did you think we’d wake up one day and just hop into bed? It doesn’t work like that. There’s an intellectual side to intimacy that evolves through spending time together. By becoming friends. I want to know you. Your thoughts. Dreams. Sex starts in here.” She tapped her forehead. “At least it does for me.”

“You want to be romanced,” he said flatly.

“I’m female. The math shouldn’t be that hard to do.”

“Math is one of my best skills.”

What was that supposed to mean? That he’d done the math and knew that’s what she wanted—but didn’t care? She stumbled back a step.

With her new distance, the colors of the Monet swirled again, turning from a picture of a girl back into a jumble of blotches.

She and Leo needed to get on the same page. She took a deep breath. “How did you think we were going to get from point A to point B?”

“I never seemed to have any trouble getting a woman interested before,” he grumbled without any real heat. “Usually it’s getting them uninterested that’s the problem.”

Ah, so she’d guessed correctly from the very beginning. “You’ve never had to invest any energy in a relationship before, have you?”

Gorgeous, well-spoken, rich men probably never did as often as women surely threw themselves at them. He’d probably gone through a series of meaningless encounters with interchangeable women.

“I don’t have time for a relationship, Daniella,” he said quietly, which only emphasized his deliberate use of her full name all the more. “That’s why I married you.”

Blunt. And devastating. She nearly reeled from it.

This was what he’d been telling her since the beginning, but she’d been determined to connect the dots in a whole new way, creating a mess of an Impressionist painting that looked like nothing when she stepped back to view the whole. The spectacular kiss, the security system, the gentle concern—none of it had signaled anything special.

He’d meant what he said. He didn’t want to invest energy in a relationship. That’s why he cut himself off from people. Too much effort. Too much trouble. Too much fill-in-the-blank.

There was no friendship on the horizon, no tenderness, no progression toward intimacy. He expected her to get naked, get pleasured and get out. Eventually.

She nodded. “I see. We’ll enjoy each other’s company when we cross paths and then go our separate ways.” He’d been the one euphemizing sex and she’d missed it.

Her heart twisted painfully. But this wasn’t news. She just hadn’t realized that being in a marriage that wasn’t a marriage was worse than being alone.