The Case of the Missing Secretary (13 page)

Her body clenched. The thought was so ecstatic that her face burned with color. “You don’t want to marry me!” She laughed nervously. “Not for just one night!” “It won’t be for just one night. I’m thirty-five. You’re twenty-five. We know each other much too well, in the important ways, not to get along.”

An hour ago you were engaged to Betsy,” she said through her teeth.

Because you were so damned determined to save me from her that you pushed me right into her web!” he muttered. “My God, don’t you know anything about men?”

Diana Palmer

“I know that they’re selfish and manipulative and domineering!” she shot back. “Who’ s domineering?’ ‘ “What do you mean, who’s domi - Oh!”

He jerked her down against him and flipped her onto her back, taking her mouth with one slow, smooth motion. He groaned as he felt her lips part, felt the anger quickly transmuted into passion, and then into pleasure.

Her arms were under his, sliding around him, her hands caressing the hard, warm muscles of his back. She felt his heartbeat growing quick and erratic against the robe and then, without warning, against her bare breasts. The thick hair that covered him also covered her now, a soft abrasion that made her moan as he drew himself against her.

“Tell me to stop if you like, but do it now,” he said over her mouth. “Hurry!”

His hands were on her, and she arched into them. “I can’t,” she whispered, shaken. “I don’t want to! Logan… Please don’t make me pregnant…!” “I won’t,” he promised unsteadily. “I promise. Kiss me…!”

He drew her completely against him, so that she could feel the swollen contours of his body in passion. His hands threw off her robe and drew her hips into the curve of his body.

“Wait…” His mouth fastened hungrily onto her stomach and while he had her in thrall, he got his own clothing out of the way. When he slid back down against her, there was nothing between them, not even the air.

She wept, because the pleasure was so sweet and slow and terrible that she thought she wouldn’t be able to bear it. His mouth on her body was heaven. His hands, touching her, exploring her, were ecstasy.

“The sofa… it isn’t big enough for what we’re going to do,” he said against her mouth.

He moved and moved her, but he shuddered at the silken brush of her body and groaned. “I’ll never make it to the bed,” he whispered hoarsely. She felt her back against the carpet and Logan’s

The Case of the Missing Secretary 393 weight above her. His mouth ground into hers as he slid over her, against her, his warm, hair-roughened thighs parting hers in a sensual movement that was as arousing as his tongue in her mouth.

“Here,” he said roughly, pressing something into her hand. “Help me.”

He taught her how, the touching intimate and exploratory as he whispered at her ear.

Then his kiss grew suddenly deep and demanding and his hips moved down. She felt him slowly invading her and she stiffened instinctively. “Does it hurt?” he whispered.

“Not…not really,” she whispered back, embarrassed by the question.

“Look at me.” He forced her flushed face up and looked down into it as he moved with deliberate sureness. She gasped and clutched at him. The expression on her face aroused him beyond bearing. Submission was there, and need, and sudden understanding of what had been a mystery before.

“I’m going to take you,” he said huskily. He moved, stilling her body with a firm hand. “I’m going to take you, Kit. Right now.”

As he spoke, he arched down, and she gasped as she felt him completely possessing her.

She couldn’t move, or breathe very well. He was heavy, but it was other sensations that she noticed. It was the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart, the pleasure that the rhythm began to build in her body. It was a trembling tension that slowly blocked out every single thought except the need to make it stop, any way she could.

She clutched his broad shoulders and her head thrashed. “Lo-gan…” she whispered. “I can’t…bear it, I can’t…bear it!” she whimpered feverishly.

He laughed deep in his throat and moved harder. “Love me,” he said, one big hand catching in the hair at her nape as he forced her to look at him. “Love me!”

“I…do!” Her eyes held his, bright with passion and love and spiraling pleasure. “Logan…I love you…more than my life!” He blurred suddenly in her eyes as the harsh movements created blinding red oblivion. She heard him speak, but her mind was

Diana Palmer

totally intent on achieving satisfaction. She moved helplessly, her body demanding more than he was giving her, her voice pleading with him, sobbing as she climbed up and up and up.

The roughness of the carpet, the quick breathing, all blurred into a crescendo of movement and sudden throbbing stillness.

She sobbed helplessly as the waves swept over her, her voice mingling with Logan’s harsh groans. Shuddering, they clung until the last trembling thread snapped and they spun away together.

He wouldn’t let go. That registered as sanity came floating back. Kit opened her eyes and saw the ceiling over Logan’s broad, damp shoulder. It wasn’t quite steady. His heartbeat was rough against her breasts. His skin was wet and cold where it touched her.

“You made me whole,” he said, shaken to his soul. His lips traveled softly over her face, her closed eyelids, her nose, her mouth, her cheeks, her chin. “Oh, God, Kit, you gave me ecstasy!”

“Yes.” She smoothed back his damp, unruly hair, her eyes soft and serious as they met the black fever in his. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I know. My God, how I know!” He kissed her with warm, slow passion, his body moving sensually above and within her. “It would be sacrilege to do that with another woman now!” he said under his breath. “Would it, really?”

He lifted his head and smoothed back her soft hair tenderly. “You were with me every step of the way,” he said huskily. “Every step! Do you have any idea how rare that is between lovers?” She flushed and turned her shy face into his throat.

He laughed gently and held her there. “You’re my lover,” he whispered into her ear. “And I’m yours. After all these long years, we made love, Kit.” “You aren’t sorry?” she asked worriedly. “No. Are you?” he asked, lifting his head to study her.

She probably should have been, but she wasn’t. She said so. Her fingers touched his hard mouth and she watched in wonder as he moved and she felt him, still a part of her.

“I know,” he whispered at the expression on her face. “It awes me, too.” He kissed her again, delighted in the feel of her body,

The Case of the Missing Secretary 395 the softness of her hair, the perfume that lay subtle and intoxicating on her throat. He groaned softly as the fever began to burn in him, but even as he felt the need, he denied it. “No,” he whispered on a shaken sigh. “No, we can’t.” “Why?” she asked.

He told her, watching her blush. “And besides that,” he murmured dryly, “I think you’re probably going to be a bit uncomfortable for the next day or so. This takes getting used to.” “Oh.”

He lifted away from her, poising there long enough to make her blush before he chuckled and rolled over onto his back. “Now you know,” he murmured.

She sat up, wincing a little at the unfamiliar discomfort. He watched her and smiled with pure masculine triumph.

“I’ll strut for a week,” he murmured as she pulled the robe from the couch and wrapped up in it. “I could never have imagined the very prim and proper Miss Morris clawing my back raw and begging for satisfaction.”

“You can stop that,” she said, hitting his chest. “Conceit doesn’t become you.”

“Yes, it does.” He sat up and pulled her across his chest to kiss her roughly. “I’ve got you and I’m keeping you,” he said, his dark eyes possessive and unblinking. “You’ll never get away. First thing tomorrow, we’re getting a license. As soon after that as possible, you’re marrying me.” Her eyes mirrored her shock. “But…!”

”But nothing. Marriage is an honorable institution. I do have my reputation, and yours, to consider. Satisfying a passing urge is one thing, but what you and I just did, Miss Morris, has no relation whatsoever to fleeting lust. That, by God, was lovemaking. The real thing.” “I won’t get pregnant.” She faltered. “You took care of that.” “Kit, that isn’t why I want to marry you.” “Oh. It’s because you…deflowered me?” “Deflowered?” he teased. She glared at him. “What would you call it?” “Delicious,” he murmured against her mouth. “Sweet heaven. A

Diana Palmer taste of immortality. I could go on, but it would take weeks until I ran out of adjectives.” “Logan,” she protested weakly.

“Are you hungry?” he asked softly. “I can cook bacon and eggs.” “I can cook, too,” she replied.

He smiled at her, his eyes so warm and affectionate that she hardly recognized them. “We’ll manage together. Then we’ll sleep, in my bed, in each other’s arms.” Her body tingled at the thought. Heaven seemed very close.

He got up and pulled on his slacks, holding out a hand to help her up. “Can you make cinnamon toast?” he asked, bending to kiss her gently. “Yes.” He smiled. “Good. Come on. We’ll share the work.”

Breakfast at almost midnight wasn’t at all bad, Kit thought. They washed up together, and that was nice, too. But the best part was lying with her head pillowed on Logan’s broad chest in the dark bedroom, with the sounds of traffic outside. She curled into his body with absolute trust, so much in love, so happy, that she wanted to die if tomorrow meant giving it up.

He meant it about marriage. She didn’t even question his motives. She loved him too much to say no. He wanted her, and there was something … something … in his expression when he looked at her. If it was only physical infatuation, it would wear off. She’d face that eventuality if she had to. But the look in his eyes gave her hope that it might be something more than an affair. She had that thought to cling to as she closed her eyes and went to sleep with the sound of Logan’s breathing under her ear.

The next morning, she was aware of movement and sound as her eyes opened. She frowned, disoriented as she looked around. This wasn’t her apartment, and it certainly wasn’t her robe that she was sleeping in.

She sat up and looked around the room, and the night before came back to her in a flash of vivid impressions that made her face go

The Case of the Missing Secretary 397 rosy. She’d made love with Logan and slept in his arms all night. Now it was morning and time to pay the piper.

She got up and dressed in Chris’s things that Logan had thoughtfully left on the chair, along with her flimsy, and by now quite dry, underthings.

“Are you ever going to get out of the bed and have breakfast?” came a disgruntled voice from beyond the door. ‘The eggs are con-gealing, for God’s sake!” “You’re so impatient!” she muttered, throwing open the door.

He leaned against the jamb, tall and muscular and devastating in just slacks and a T-shirt with Atlanta Braves plastered across the front. “I wasn’t last night,” he reminded her wickedly. She couldn’t argue with that. She laughed up at him.

“You look very nice in Chris’s jeans,” he remarked, studying her trim figure. “Perhaps we could raid his closet while he’s on vacation and see how you fill out the rest of his clothes.” “He probably looks much better in them than I do,” she said.

“Not from where I’m standing. Come here.” He lifted her by the waist onto a level with his big, dark eyes. “Kiss me, sweetheart,” he whispered.

Tingling from the endearment, she leaned forward and put her soft mouth against his wide, hard one. “Good morning,” she whispered back.

“Good morning yourself.” He savored her lips, aglow with the wonder of having her this way, with the silky soft memory of the night before making him weak all over. He hadn’t slept a long time. He’d woken long before first light and lay looking at Kit with won-der. So many years they’d been together, and he’d never seen how lovely she was. He really had been blind. He kissed her slowly, barely brushing her mouth with his lips. Come on and I’ll feed you,” he said. He put her back on her feet with flattering reluctance. “That isn’t what I really wanted to do, of course. I want to throw you on the floor and ravish you, but it’s much too early for that sort of thing. Besides, I’m too much a gentleman to seduce you on the floor of my apartment.” Remembering the carpet burns on her back she was hesitant to agree with him. He chuckled at her expression.

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“Next time we’ll use the bed,” he murmured ruefully. “I couldn’t hold out long enough to get into the bedroom.” “You said you weren’t impatient?”

“I seem to have a low threshold with you, don’t I?” He brushed back her short hair. “Are you sore, Kit?” he asked matter-of-factly. “A little,” she said nervously.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said gently. “I shouldn’t have been quite so rough. I wanted you very badly.” “I wanted you, too.”

“What a scarlet blush,” he remarked. He smiled. “We’ll eat and then we’ll go apply for a license.” “It’s Sunday.”

“Is it? Well, we’ll go apply for a license tomorrow, then.” He seated her. “You can’t make love again comfortably today, can you?” She could hardly breathe. “I don’t know…”

“There are ways, and ways,” he whispered, bending to kiss her with soft tenderness. “I’ll teach them to you.”

He sat down beside her and poured the coffee. As they ate, Kit watched him and tried to imagine that he was the same man who’d been yelling at her for years over mistakes in dictation and fouled-up appointments and misfiled files-most of which were his own fault. “Something bothering you?” he asked.

“It’s really you, isn’t it?” she replied vaguely. “I’m just having a little trouble believing it, that’s all. We’ve worked together for a long time.”

“And I’ve never looked at you until a few days ago,” he agreed. His face went somber, almost grim. “I might have married Betsy. Why didn’t you do something?” “I did!” she shot back. “I tried to tell you, and you fired me!” “I didn’t know you were in love with me then,” he said quietly. “It wouldn’t have stopped you if you had,” she returned.