The Boss's Daughter (12 page)

Or he would if he was actually paying attention to her. Instead he was staring at Ward. And she knew something was wrong.

“No offense, Ms. Montgomery, but I’ve changed my mind.” Though he used her name, his gaze was on Ward. And whatever he read on Ward’s face.

“Uh, sure, okay.” You didn’t beg if a man decided to walk away. But what was up?

Without another word, he opened the door, closed it behind him, his footsteps fading into the traffic noise on the street.

“Ward?” She padded across the carpet, touched his arm.

He turned on her, the muscles of his face tense, his eyes dilated, nostrils flared. That face had driven Spence out of the room. “That’s it,” he snapped. “I’m not finding your fuck buddies for you anymore.”

She stepped back as if he’d shoved her.

He advanced on her. “In fact”—he put his finger to her chest—“I’m done playing your games.”

“What’s up with you? Are you suddenly jealous or something?”

His brows went up. “
Suddenly?
I’ve been fucking jealous all along. And you fucking love that.”

She rolled her lips between her teeth. He was right. She’d enjoyed what she called his he-man antics. She knew he was jealous, and she loved that. But she hadn’t thought he cared as much about who she was fucking as he did about the hot sex they had before, during, and after. “The jealousy made it better for both of us.”

His jaw worked. “It made it better for
you
.”

She put a hand to his chest. “And for you.”

“Well, I’m fucking tired of sharing.”

Fucking
. He’d said the word several times. Ward wasn’t a true cusser, and his use of it only brought attention to his agitation. She’d known it was there, right from the moment she said Spencer Benedict’s name.
All you had to do was say no.
She did not, however, let those words slip past her lips. The truth was she hadn’t let him say no to her from the moment she’d had that first sublime orgasm simply because he was watching her. She couldn’t
let
him say no. But she’d pushed him too hard this time, gotten him to agree to something he wasn’t ready for. They needed to take one step back.

Instead of taking that one necessary step, she asked, “You’re tired of sharing women?” She lowered her voice. “Or you’re tired of sharing
me
?”

* * * * *

His teeth hurt he had them clenched so hard.

He’d intended to go through with it, swear to God. But somehow, through all the planning and the two days of waiting, even as he tasted her, made her body quake with pleasure, kissed her, he couldn’t stop imagining her face as she climaxed for Spence. He could not drive that goddamn image out of his mind. Everything had been written on his face, and Spence had taken one look at him and backed out. Ward had wanted to claim her before Spence got there. Maybe if he’d been able to do that... But he wasn’t fast enough.

Jesus H. Christ. Spence had seen his feelings written all over his face like a pitiful adolescent.

Now
she
wanted to know.

“I’m not sharing
you
.” There. He’d said it. Declared himself. Revealed his pathetic feelings.

“That’s not so bad,” she said.

What the fuck?

“We’ll just go back to the way it was. The role-playing, where you burst into the room and kick the other guy out. That worked so well.” She was actually smiling. “I’m more than fine with that.”

He was sure he’d lost his mind. He was most certainly in over his head. “It’s way too fucking late for that.”

She didn’t say anything to that.

The anonymity of the other men hadn’t bothered him. The jealousy, the anger, she was right, the emotions made it hotter. But not with someone he knew, not a friend, not a man he saw at work every day, golfed with. Not his friend. And now Spence had seen the truth. They couldn’t go back.

Her breasts rose and fell with her breath. Her skin was still flushed pink, her blue eyes wide, her hair tousled from their earlier play on the bed. He’d never wanted her more.

Bending, he picked her dress up off the floor, handed it to her. She donned it silently as he buckled his belt, buttoned his shirt, then stood in front of the mirror to knot his tie.

They didn’t speak in the car. When he stopped in front of her father’s house, she kissed his cheek and climbed out.

As she walked up the front path, she was no longer Cassandra. She’d once again become the boss’s daughter.

* * * * *

She should have told him she loved when he dragged her away from whatever man she was with. She loved when he took her with anger. She loved the power in that. She loved the way he made her feel. She could get used to that with him. Oh yes, she could.

But she couldn’t be monogamous. She didn’t do relationships; she did men. Even for him, she couldn’t give up how men—a lot of men, sexy men, her men—made her feel.

“Sweetheart, we weren’t expecting you home so early.” Holt was in the living room, Ruby on the couch beside him. The TV screen was blue as if they’d just stopped a movie. Perhaps when they heard the car outside?

She felt like an intruder. “Sorry. My meeting finished earlier than I expected.” She wasn’t ashamed of her sex life, but somehow it was inappropriate to tell her father that she’d had a date to screw two of his executives.

Even as she had the thought, something about it bothered her.

“We were just about to start a new movie.” Her father ejected whatever had been in the player. “You want to join us?”

Ruby smiled as if she agreed, but, hmm, Cassandra was left wondering if she was overstaying her welcome here at the house. Even after giving them the weekend to themselves.

“No thanks. Paperwork.” She smiled, fluttered her fingers, and went to her room, closing the door to give them their privacy. She no longer felt as welcome in her father’s house, not in a bad way—Ruby had actually been quite pleasant since Cassandra gave them the sketch of the wedding dress—but she sensed they needed to be alone together, not together with a third wheel.

With the door shut, she could hear herself think and that thought echoed in her mind.
She had a date to screw two of his executives.
It sounded so one-dimensional. She wasn’t
screwing
Ward. Not like she screwed her other men. What they did was something more than that; she just wasn’t sure exactly what. He was special. He made her feel special. With him, her emotions were intense, and the sex was fabulous. But it was fabulous because he was intense as well. Their needs fed each other. She hadn’t had quite this kind of relationship with any man. She didn’t do
relationships,
but there really wasn’t a doubt that’s what this was with Ward. He’d walked into her life and pushed just the right buttons in the perfect sequence to unlock something inside her. She actually saw a future with him that lasted longer than a month, a future that was beyond
just
sex. It was dinners and discussions and asking his opinion and showing him her new creations. There was a certain delicious intensity to those fantasies, to thoughts of coming home to him at night, waking up beside him. The intensity was frightening.

But she wasn’t capable of being with one man. It wouldn’t matter how she felt about him, she would eventually cheat on him. She was built like a man, emotionally speaking, where sex was just physical. It didn’t have to be emotional. But she did need that kick.

The first few times with Ward had been hot, surprises, games, but for the long haul, he had proven he couldn’t share, didn’t
want
to. He would require more from her than she was capable of giving.

She’d never depended on a man for anything emotional. She’d never truly cared for a man. She’d never wanted to. A relationship would have gotten in the way. But somehow Ward had slipped in and made her
feel
.

When he figured out she wasn’t capable of conducting any kind of normal relationship, he would slip away just as easily.

Chapter Thirteen

“Hey, Ruby. I thought we could look at some fabric swatches for the dress.”

It was lunchtime at West Coast, and the receptionist had let Cassandra walk right on through without announcing her. After all, she was the boss’s daughter. Ruby was halfway between her desk and Holt’s office door. She stopped, hand in mid-air, her eyes alight with...something. Surprise? Excitement? Cassandra, who was usually good at interpreting expressions, wasn’t sure what that look signified.

“Now?” Ruby asked, glancing toward Holt’s door.

Then Holt barked out a command. “Ruby, I told you to get in here.”

Cassandra hadn’t heard that voice from him since the tender age of sixteen when he’d caught her climbing through her bedroom window at two o’clock in the morning. What the hell was going on? Trouble in paradise so soon?

Then he was standing in his doorway. His face turned a ruddy shade when he saw her. As if he was embarrassed. Maybe he was, since she’d obviously broken up an argument.

“I was just going to take Ruby out to lunch to look at some fabric.” Actually, she’d already the fabric she’d use—and she knew Ruby would approve—but she needed an excuse to get Ruby alone so they could talk. She’d had a brainstorm during the night, and she absolutely had to talk to Ruby.

Ruby made a sound. “Uuuh.”

The woman wasn’t usually short on words. But how could something have gone wrong between the lovebirds between last night’s cozy scene on the couch and now? It could be work-related, but even Cassandra had to admit that Ruby was a model of efficiency.

“Well, of course,” Holt finally said, punctuating with a loud exhale.

“But—” Ruby said.

He held up a hand. “We’ll have our discussion later.”

Ruby made another ineffectual sound. Cassandra was no BFF of hers, but she certainly knew Ruby well enough to realize this didn’t sound like her at all.

“You girls go,” Holt said magnanimously, waving his hand. “Have fun.”

“All right.” Ruby backed away, her gaze on Holt. Cassandra could swear a silent message passed between them. “We’ll talk about the issue right after work.” Then she turned, opened her desk drawer, and retrieved her purse.

“Is everything all right?” Cassandra asked her in the car.

Ruby smiled, her lipstick as red as her name. “Of course.”

Cassandra headed into Palo Alto to an excellent little bistro she knew.

“Just a little work problem, that’s all,” Ruby added.

Cassandra glanced at her. Ruby stared ahead through the window, that smile on her face. A secret smile. Cassandra decided that whatever had happened wasn’t necessarily bad.

“There’s a couple of fabric samples.” She pointed to the backseat.

Ruby reached behind, grabbed the small pile, and laid them in her lap. She fingered the rich satin swatch on top. Cassandra reached over to tap it. “This is the one I believe will work the best.”

“It’s nice.” Then Ruby nodded. “Yes, it’s perfect.” She glanced up. “But you could have shown me this in the office.”

“That was an excuse. I wanted to talk.”

Ruby raised a brow. “About what?”

“Let’s save that for the restaurant.”

“Are you about to warn me away from your father?” Then she added, “Again.”

“No.” Cassandra slipped into a miraculously empty parking spot on University in downtown. “I’ve decided you’re perfect for him.” Actually she wouldn’t know that for months, but she was willing to give Ruby her support. Unless she did something that forced Cassandra to withdraw it.

“Well, I can hardly wait to hear what this is all about.” Ruby’s voice was laced with sarcasm.

She was a gorgeous woman with a stunning figure. Cassandra knew she was forty, but Ruby could pass for thirty-five. Her clothing choice was slightly on the slutty side, her skirts always a tad too short, her tops a smidgen too low-cut. Though Cassandra had to admit that her style had improved since the last time she’d seen her. She turned many a male head as they made their way along the sidewalk, their high heels tapping in unison. Ruby loved turning heads; she seemed to catalogue every glance. Ruby certainly loved her men. And that’s exactly why Cassandra had invited her to lunch.

But she waited until they were seated and their napkins across their laps before she started the conversation she’d planned.

“I have the sense that you and I are quite a bit alike.” She squeezed a lemon wedge into her water glass.

“Oh you do,” Ruby said, her tone only slightly mocking.

“Woman to woman, let’s state it plainly. We both like men.”

Ruby pressed her lips together. “If you’re going to tell me—”

Cassandra held up her hand. “I’m not going to tell you anything. All I want is your advice.”

Ruby eyed her doubtfully.

She knew a lot about Ruby. Cassandra didn’t work at West Coast, but she’d attended many of her father’s work parties when they coincided with her visits. She’d gone to the Christmas bashes. She was a great observer. And she knew Ruby loved men. Just like Cassandra did. She had no clue why Ruby and Clay Blackwell had parted ways—she hadn’t been to a West Coast party since that event had occurred—but she’d be willing to bet it had to do with Ruby’s love of men.

Now that she actually had to say the words, she realized her question was quite rude. It hadn’t sounded so bad in her mind. She decided to preface it. “I’ve met a man.”

“That’s nice.”

“And my problem is that I’m not quite”—she searched for the right word—“capable of being with
only
one man.”

Ruby smiled, her lips glistening. Then her eyes gleamed with a naughty sparkle. “You don’t know how to be monogamous.”

“Exactly.” That didn’t seem so bad.

“And you think I’m a slut and you wonder how the hell I’ll be able to remain monogamous with your father.”

Slam. She’d miscalculated and offended her future stepmother.

The waiter chose that moment to stand at their table, pencil poised, ready for their orders. “Have you ladies decided?”