Taken by the Boss: His Very Personal Assistant / In the Banker's Bed / The Takeover Bid

Although he had certainly done little to encourage those feelings this evening!

Kit straightened, her hands thrust defensively into the pockets of her robe. ‘I think it’s time you left, Marcus,’ she told him, instantly wishing she had sounded more convincing.

‘Yes,’ he acknowledged with as little conviction.

She swallowed hard, her tongue moving nervously across her bottom lip, instantly knowing that had been the wrong thing to do as Marcus’s gaze darkened, a nerve pulsing in his jaw.

After the noise and bustle of the evening, it was all so quiet about them, the house itself seeming asleep. Only the beat of Kit’s heart, it appeared to her, sounded loudly in the silence.

Her eyes widened as Marcus slowly took two steps towards her. Her throat felt constricted so that she couldn’t speak, not when he stood in front of her, not when he took her into his arms, not when his head lowered as his lips took gentle possession of hers.

His kiss deepened as passion exploded between them. Marcus’s tongue moved questioningly against her lower lip and Kit’s response was to draw him deeper inside her.

He felt so right against her, their bodies moulded together as if two halves of a whole, Marcus’s hands moving caressingly the length of her spine before tightening on her lower back to pull her into his hardness.

Warmth spread through her lower body at this evidence of his own arousal, her neck arching as Marcus’s lips moved down its length to the sensitive hollows beneath.

Kit could only groan longingly as he pushed aside her robe and pyjama top to take one hardened nipple into the moist warmth of his mouth, sucking her deep inside him as his tongue lathed that sensitive tip.

Kit felt as if she were on fire, the centre of that fire situated at the very heart of her, her hands clinging to the broad width of his shoulders as his hand moved caressingly to her other breast, his thumb moving delicately, oh, so delicately, over the hardened tip.

She had never known such pleasure in her life, felt her control rapidly slipping away from her, her response to his caresses instinctive, as if her body had always known his touch, his caress.

A sob caught in her throat as she realised she was in love with this man, a part of her knowing this was just too much on top of everything else that had happened to her.

Marcus instantly pulled back slightly, raising his head to look at her with concerned blue eyes. ‘I won’t hurt you, Kit,’ he promised.

It wasn’t him she was afraid of—it was her own newly realised emotions! Because she was already in love with Marcus. Deeply. Irrevocably. Knew it as surely as she knew her name.

And he was making love to her in such a way that she knew there could be only one way of this ending. Unless she put a stop to it—now!

Offence was her best form of defence… ‘Marcus, haven’t both of us had enough—excitement, for one evening?’ she ventured.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Me, by having Mike invade my bedroom in the way that he did. And you, because—Andrea Revel,’ she concluded, able to ease out of his arms now as his hands fell back to his sides, straightening her robe back into place as she moved even further away.

‘Andrea?’ Marcus repeated in a puzzled voice. ‘What does she have to do with us?’

‘Us?’ Kit repeated, feeling more in control now that she had put some distance between them. Although she had no doubt that the memory of their closeness would haunt her dreams—day as well as night!—for a very long time. ‘There is no “us”, Marcus,’ she responded quietly.

‘Exactly what are you accusing me of where Andrea is concerned?’ Marcus demanded, his expression stormy now.

‘I’m not accusing you of anything,’ she returned with more bravado than she really felt. If Marcus were to so much as touch her again, she knew she would be in his arms, with no thought of what tomorrow might bring! ‘I told you, Mike only came in here earlier because he saw you go off to Andrea’s bedroom.’

‘He might have seen me leave my bedroom,’ Marcus conceded. ‘But what makes either of you think it was in order to pay Andrea a nocturnal visit?’

Kit gave a shrug. ‘It’s obvious the two of you are still involved.’

‘Says who?’ he came back.

‘Says anybody who looks at the two of you, apparently,’ she returned, remembering all too easily how even the insensitive Mike Reynolds had taunted her about the relationship.

Marcus drew in a harsh breath. ‘For your information, I went downstairs to enjoy a cigar with Desmond,’ he explained. ‘He was kind enough to invite me to join him. But for the record,’ he continued coldly, ‘as I’ve already told you, Andrea and I are finished. Totally. Irrevocably.’ He walked purposefully to the adjoining bedroom door to wrench it open. ‘I’ve told Desmond we shall be leaving tomorrow. He would prefer that we make it after lunch; is that going to be okay with you?’

‘Fine,’ Kit accepted numbly, just wishing he would go now and leave her alone to try and regain some of her shattered defences.

He paused in the open doorway. ‘You know, Kit, I don’t know what I’ve done to give you this—unflattering opinion you seem to have of me, but I can assure you that I do not make love to one woman while being involved with another!’

She swallowed hard, easily able to discern the scorn in his tone. But she was just too tired, too emotionally raw from her newly realised love for him, still too physically aware of him, to try to make any sense out of what had been a disturbing, confused evening.

‘Goodnight, Kit,’ Marcus said gruffly when it became obvious she had nothing else to say.

‘Goodnight,’ she echoed shakily, managing to remain standing upright until he had left the room.

When she collapsed shakily back onto the bed, at last allowing the tears that had been threatening for the last hour to overflow and cascade hotly down her cheeks.

Was this nightmare never going to end?

CHAPTER NINE

‘I UNDERSTAND there was some sort of—situation, in your bedroom last night?’

Kit forced herself not to move on the sun lounger on which she lay beside the swimming pool, even though the sound of Catherine Grainger’s voice had been enough to bring her eyes wide open behind the sunglasses she wore.

Unlike Kit, Catherine was fully dressed, albeit in a cool green linen sundress that showed her overall suntan to advantage. Kit, on the other hand, was wearing the black bikini she had bought for her holiday last year, her skin colour still creamy magnolia; she hadn’t gone away on holiday yet this year.

Despite receiving no response to her question, Catherine Grainger made herself comfortable on the adjacent lounger, as beautifully composed as she had been yesterday; her hair was perfectly styled and her skin smooth, despite her being in her late sixties.

In fact, Kit knew she wouldn’t mind being in this prime condition at the age of sixty-seven!

Which admission was enough to make her sit up a little straighter on her lounger, totally, she instantly realised, giving away her wakeful state.

‘I thought you were awake.’ Catherine Grainger nodded her satisfaction, her own sunglasses hiding silver eyes that Kit nevertheless knew to be totally shrewd and calculating.

‘Did you?’ Kit returned with cool uninterest.

‘Oh, yes.’ The older woman nodded again. ‘It was the tapping of your fingers on the arm of your lounger that gave you away.’

Something Kit instantly stopped doing. Not that she was surprised to learn she had been doing something so mind-numbingly repetitive; after last night she was having trouble stringing two thoughts together, let alone making any sense of them!

It had been impossible for her to sleep after Marcus had left her room last night, because of a combination of anger towards Mike Reynolds and sheer frustration where Marcus was concerned—her body still remembered his kisses and caresses even if her mind was trying desperately to shut them out!

All in all, she’d not had a good night’s sleep, and she had come outside early this morning to claim a lounger beside the pool, pushing the barrier of sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose in the hope of avoiding having to speak to any of the other people at this weekend party. Marcus, in particular!

Not, it appeared, that she need have worried about him too much; a maid cleaning beside the pool had informed her that Marcus had gone horse-riding with their host early this morning and wasn’t expected to return until mid-morning.

A pity she hadn’t been as fortunate where Catherine Grainger was concerned.