Mistress to the Magnate: Money Man's Fiancée Negotiation

“Not suffering, huh?” she said with a wry smile.

Well, not anymore. Not much anyway.

“I honestly believe that we need to take this slow,” he said. “If you’re not physically ready, we wait. Both of us.”

“Okay,” she agreed solemnly, giving his hand a squeeze. “You mind if I use the bathroom first, or do you want it?”

“Go ahead.”

She rolled out of bed and he assumed she intended to take the sheet along to cover herself. Instead she let it fall and stood there in all her naked glory, thinner than she’d been, almost to point of looking a little bony, but still sexy and desirable as hell.

Instead of walking straight into the bathroom, she went the opposite way to her suitcase, her hair falling in mussed waves over her shoulders, the sway of her hips mesmerizing him. He expected her to lift her case and set it on the bed, but instead she bent at the waist to unzip her case right there. She stood not five feet away, her back to him, legs spread just far enough to give him a perfect view of her goods, and he damn near swallowed his own tongue. He saw two perfect globes of soft flesh that he was desperate to get his hands on, her thighs long and milky white, and what lay between them … damn. Doing him must have turned her on, too, because he could see traces of moisture glistening along her folds.

He had to fist the blankets to keep himself from reaching out and touching her. To stop himself from dropping to his knees and taking her into his mouth. He even caught himself licking his lips in anticipation.

She seemed to take an unnecessarily long time rifling through her clothes, choosing what to wear, then she straightened. He pulled the covers across his lap, so she wouldn’t notice that conspicuous rise in his pajamas, but she didn’t even look his way; then, as she stepped into the bathroom she tossed him a quick, wicked smile over her shoulder.

If that little display had been some sort of revenge for snapping at her earlier, she sure as hell knew how to hit where it stung.

Seven (#ulink_b83f77a2-c3d0-5dc4-ae70-ef3190ee3700)

They got back on the road late that morning—although it was Melody’s own fault.

She’d already had a mild headache when she woke up, compounded by the sexual arousal, but bending over like that to open her case, and the pressure it had put on her head, had been a really bad move. The pain went from marginally cumbersome to oh-my-God-kill-me-now excruciating. But it had almost been worth it to see the look on Ash’s face.

She popped two painkillers then got dressed, thinking she would lie down while Ash got ready then she would be fine. Unfortunately it was the kind of sick, throbbing pain that was nearly unbearable, and exacerbated by the tiniest movement.

Ash’s first reaction was to drive her to the nearest hospital, but she convinced him that all she needed was a little quiet, and another hour or so of sleep. She urged him to go and get himself a nice breakfast, and wake her when he got back.

Instead, he let her sleep until almost eleven-thirty! It was nearly noon by the time they got on the road, and she realized, with a sinking heart, that they would never make it back to San Francisco that evening. On the bright side she managed to stay awake for most of the drive, and was able to enjoy the scenery as it passed. Ash played the radio and occasionally she would find herself singing along to songs she hadn’t even realized she knew. But if she made a conscious effort to remember them, her stubborn brain refused to cooperate.

When they stopped for the night, this time it was in a much more populated area and he managed to find a higher-class hotel with two double beds. However, that didn’t stop her from walking around naked and sleeping in the buff. The truth was, when it came to sleeping naked she wasn’t really doing it to annoy Ash. She actually liked the feel of the sheets against her bare skin. The walking-around-naked part? That was just for fun.

Not that she didn’t think Ash was right about waiting. When she’d invaded his pj’s yesterday morning she really hadn’t stopped to think that maybe he didn’t want to, that he might feel guilty that it was one-sided. If she wanted to get technical, what she had done was tantamount to rape or molestation. Although, honestly, he hadn’t seemed quite that scandalized.

Really, she should be thrilled that she was engaged to such a caring and sensitive man. And she supposed that if the burden of pent-up sexual energy became too much, he could just take care of matters himself. Although deep down she really hoped he would wait for her.

Despite wishing she was in Ash’s bed, curled up against him, she got a decent night’s sleep and woke feeling the best she had since this whole mess began. Her head hardly hurt and when they went to breakfast she ate every bite of her waffles and sausage. Maybe just knowing that in a few hours she would be home was all the medicine she needed for a full recovery.

Ash spent a lot of the drive on the phone with work, and though she wasn’t sure exactly what was being discussed, the tone of the conversation suggested that they were relieved he was coming back. And he seemed happy to be going back.

They crossed the Bay Bridge shortly after one, and they were finally in San Francisco. Though the views were gorgeous, she couldn’t say with any certainty that it looked the least bit familiar. They drove along the water, and after only a few minutes Ash pulled into the underground parking of a huge renovated warehouse that sat directly across the street from a busy pier.

He never said anything about them living on the water.

“Home sweet home,” he said, zooming past a couple dozen cars that looked just as classy as his, then he whipped into a spot right next to the elevator.

She peered out the window. “So this is it?”

“This is the place.” He opened his door and stuck one foot out.

“What floor do we live on?”

“The top.”

“What floor is that?”

“Six.” He paused a second and asked, “Would you like to go up?”

She did and she didn’t. She had been anticipating this day for what felt like ages, but now that she was here, back to her old life, she was terrified. What if she didn’t remember? What if the memories never resurfaced? Who would she be?

Stop being such a baby, she chastised herself. Like Dr. Nelson had reminded her the day she was discharged, it was just going to take time and she would have to be patient. No matter what happened up there, whether she remembered or not, it was going to be okay. She was a fighter.

She turned to Ash and flashed him a shaky smile. “I’m ready.”

She got out and waited by the elevator while Ash collected their bags from the trunk. He pushed the button for the elevator and it immediately opened. They stepped inside and he slipped a key in a lock on the panel, then hit the button for the top floor.

“Does everyone need a key?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Only our floor.”

She wondered why, and how many other condos were on the top floor. She was going to ask, but the movement of the elevator made her so dizzy it was all she could do to stay upright. Besides, as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open, she got her answer.

They stepped off the elevator not into a hallway, but in a small vestibule in front of a set of double doors. Doors that led directly into their condo! They weren’t a condo on the sixth floor. They were the sixth floor, and what she saw inside when he unlocked the door literally took her breath away. The entire living area—kitchen, dining room and family room—was one huge open space with a ceiling two stories high, bordered by a wall of windows that overlooked the ocean.

The floors were mahogany, with a shine so deep she could see herself in it. The kitchen looked ultramodern and she was guessing it had every device and gadget on the market. The furniture looked trendy but comfortable, and everything, from the oriental rugs to light fixtures, screamed top-of-the-line.

For a second she just stood there frozen, wondering if, as some sick joke, he’d taken her to someone else’s condo. If they really lived here, how could she not remember it?

Ash set the bags on the floor and dropped his keys on a trendy little drop-leaf table beside the door. He started to walk toward the kitchen, but when he realized she wasn’t moving, he stopped and turned to her. “Are you coming in?”

“You told me you do okay,” she said, and at his confused look she added, “financially. But you do way better than okay, don’t you?”

He grinned and said, “A little bit better than okay.”

Her fiancé was loaded. She lived in a loft condo overlooking the ocean. It was almost too much to take in all at once. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged. “It just didn’t seem that important. And I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Oh, awesome idea, because I’m not the least bit overwhelmed now!” She was so freaked out she was practically hyperventilating.

“I take it nothing looks familiar.”

“Curiously, no. And you’d think I would have remembered this.”

“Why don’t I show you around?”

She nodded and followed him to the kitchen, looking out the bank of windows as they passed, and the view was so breathtaking she had to stop. She could see sailboats and ships on the water and they had a phenomenal view of the Bay Bridge.