"Princess?"
Taylor folded her arms across her chest in a purely defense gesture.
"What?"
"You talk to much," J.T. said, and kicked the door shut.
Without warning, he snatched her into his arms and tossed her onto a
huge, four-poster bed. He followed her down before she had time to draw
breath, let alone react. "I have a question for you."
She swallowed. "And I'll be happy to answer it...just as soon as you let
me up."
"Not a chance. This is one of those lying down sort of questions."
She stared at him in confusion, her eyes huge and dark and vulnerable. "I
don't know what you're talking about."
He raised an eyebrow. "You've never heard of a lying down question?" She
shook her head, her hair spilling across the bedspread like strands of gold.
He couldn't resist. He slipped his hands into her hair, tangling his fingers
in the silken curls. "Well, it's a question that can only be asked when
you're lying down."
"I don't think--"
"Good. Don't think. Just answer my question."
She moistened her lips. "What's the question?" she whispered.
"I've been wondering about this all day... Do all of you suit-and-tie
business women wear silk stockings and garters." He brushed her mouth with a
feather-light kiss. "Or are you an exception to the rule?"
Taylor's eyes widened, a hectic flush staining her cheeks. "How did you
know that I wore...?"
"Let's just say that the combination of a Harley, a fast ride and a
passenger in a skirt adds up to quite a view." J.T. dropped his hand to her
knee, sliding upward until he located the precise spot where the silk
stockings ended and satin-smooth skin began. "An unforgettable view."
Her breathing grew fast and shallow. "Let me up, J.T."
"You haven't answered my question."
"And I don't intend to, either." She shifted beneath him in an attempt to
escape.
"Not wise," he warned.
"What isn't wise? Answering you?"
"No. Moving like that."
To his amusement, her color deepen. How was it possible that a woman well
into her twenties still had the ability to blush? Had no one ever teased her
before? Complimented her? He remembered again her comments outside the
hotel. What had she said? Something about the men she knew comparing her
looks to Boss's and treating marriage like a merger.
He didn't doubt that a few of the less intelligent ones might think of
her in terms of a balance sheet. To them Boss Daniels and his corporation
would be a huge asset--though to him the package added up to one giant
debit. But the majority couldn't be that blind. Surely they saw the velvety
blackness of her gaze, the generous curves of her breasts and hips, the
long, slender legs--as well as the shrewd intelligence lurking behind the
stunning appearance.
Unless her innocence was an act.
After all, she was a Daniels.
And deceit came as naturally to them as breathing.
"J.T., please. I'd like to get up."
She hadn't twitched since his warning, he realized with grim amusement.
Either her nervousness was genuine or previous bedroom high jinks had taught
her caution. His eyes narrowed as one other possibility occurred to him.
This shy, virginal act she had going could be an elaborate game perpetuated
by a not-so-shy, far-from-virginal corporate player. It might be interesting
to find out which it was. Perhaps he'd tempt her a little and see if he held
a woman in his arms...or Boss's daughter.
"I'll let you up," he told her. "Just as soon as you answer my question."
He fingered the lace garter and released the catch on the front strap.
Her breath escaped in a soft gasp. "I don't remember your question," she
confessed in a strangled voice.
He lifted her knee and slid his hand around to the back of her thigh,
feeling her quiver in reaction. "Garters. Do all you suit-and-tie types wear
garters?" With a quick flick of his thumb, he popped the second strap.
"I'll answer! No more, J.T. I swear I'll answer your question if you
stop."
He splayed his hand across the back of her thigh, his fingers caressing
her with slow, feather-light circles. "I'm waiting."
She trembled, her words spilling out in a breathless rush. "As far as I
know I'm the only one in the office who wears garters and stockings--except
for one man in accounting. But I'm not positive about him. J.T., don't! You
said you'd let me go if I answered your question."
"I lied."
She started to protest and he took instant
advantage, stealing a lingering kiss. He didn't overwhelm her with a rough,
passionate embrace, but offered a slow, gentle assault. Her response came
just as gradually. He felt her initial hesitation, a momentary resistance as
reason fought temptation. Then she relaxed, her lips parting, allowing him
to deepen the kiss. What he would have lost by aggression, he won through
persuasion, her response well worth his restraint.
