stare even? She hated him for the pain he had once caused her in pursuit of his fortune, for the manner in which he now tried to force her to the altar to fatten his accounts further. But he’d always fascinated her, too. In the past five years, he had only grown more complex, enigmatic. And like a fool, she was allowing him to beguile her.
Suddenly, he appeared beside her, a faint tinge of sandalwood, citrus, and man combined to intoxicate her senses.
“ That mysterious expression is intriguing, Maddie. Care to share your thoughts?” He handed her a glass of wine, eyes burning as if he could indeed read her thoughts of him.
She pasted on a falsely sweet smile. “Pleasant visions of you in boiling oil, impaled by sharp knives.”
He laughed, a rich, mirthful sound that resonated deep within her. “You wound me.”
She shot him a tart glare. “That was the idea.”
“ And here I thought it was my irresistible charm making your eyes sparkle.”
He settled into the chair beside her. His thigh brushed hers. Through the layers of her clothing, she felt his heat. Her skin tingled, came alive. Her breath caught. Cursing her reaction, Maddie drew her leg away and sipped her wine, pretending deep interest in the play now resuming.
Brock whispered in her ear, “‘Hearing thy mildness praised in every town, thy virtues spoke of and thy beauty sounded, yet not so deeply as to thee belongs—Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.’”
Maddie turned to Brock, utterly stunned. He had memorized Shakespeare?
“‘ Moved! In good time: let him that moved you hither, remove you hence.’” She glared at him. “Petruchio you are not.”
The teasing light left Brock’s green eyes, replaced by something almost solemn. “You are fairer than his Kate.”
With his velvet whisper, he very cleverly turned her ire to reluctant passion. His gaze held her captive in his silken seduction. Maddie’s belly fluttered. The flesh between her thighs slicked, aching with emptiness. She should be dishing him a well-deserved tongue-lashing, not glancing at his firm, capable hands and wondering how they might feel on her skin.
“ That look of yours might melt me, love,” he whispered.
Tearing her gaze away, Maddie willed her racing heart to slow. He courted her with a fine dress and jewels, sweet wine, and now, pretty words. Damn it, she didn’t want to feel flattered. Or special. To him, she was the means to an end. Despite his attention, she dare not ever make the mistake of believing herself important to Brock again, except in his quest for wealth.
But if he merely wanted to coerce her into marriage, why bother with all the trappings of romance?
#
Brock tucked away his notes on a diamond mine in South America, knowing the only gem to occupy his thoughts again this afternoon was Maddie.
He wanted to see her thick auburn tresses spread across his sheets, ached to feel her naked breasts in his mouth, her nipples hard and straining against his tongue as he plunged his cock deep within her slick folds. Sighing, he closed his eyes, imagining her eyes stormy with desire for him, her voice trembling as she begged him to fuck her.
But if her passion had matured these past five years, so had her determination. As a girl, Maddie had been eager to please. She had always worn a smile, spoken a friendly greeting, glowed with optimism. Today, she was guarded and stubborn—and resolved to have no part of him.
No doubt she was furious with him for wishing to enter her life again in nearly the same state in which he’d left it: that of her fiancé and lover. Still, she was not indifferent to him. Her rapid breathing, lingering stares, softening posture when he said just the right words gave her away. All that—and her poverty—played directly into his plans.
He couldn’t wait to see her reaction to his note.
“ Have you heard from her yet?” Jack asked, peeking his head inside Brock’s office.
“ No.”
“ She’s going to be
Suddenly, he appeared beside her, a faint tinge of sandalwood, citrus, and man combined to intoxicate her senses.
“ That mysterious expression is intriguing, Maddie. Care to share your thoughts?” He handed her a glass of wine, eyes burning as if he could indeed read her thoughts of him.
She pasted on a falsely sweet smile. “Pleasant visions of you in boiling oil, impaled by sharp knives.”
He laughed, a rich, mirthful sound that resonated deep within her. “You wound me.”
She shot him a tart glare. “That was the idea.”
“ And here I thought it was my irresistible charm making your eyes sparkle.”
He settled into the chair beside her. His thigh brushed hers. Through the layers of her clothing, she felt his heat. Her skin tingled, came alive. Her breath caught. Cursing her reaction, Maddie drew her leg away and sipped her wine, pretending deep interest in the play now resuming.
Brock whispered in her ear, “‘Hearing thy mildness praised in every town, thy virtues spoke of and thy beauty sounded, yet not so deeply as to thee belongs—Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.’”
Maddie turned to Brock, utterly stunned. He had memorized Shakespeare?
“‘ Moved! In good time: let him that moved you hither, remove you hence.’” She glared at him. “Petruchio you are not.”
The teasing light left Brock’s green eyes, replaced by something almost solemn. “You are fairer than his Kate.”
With his velvet whisper, he very cleverly turned her ire to reluctant passion. His gaze held her captive in his silken seduction. Maddie’s belly fluttered. The flesh between her thighs slicked, aching with emptiness. She should be dishing him a well-deserved tongue-lashing, not glancing at his firm, capable hands and wondering how they might feel on her skin.
“ That look of yours might melt me, love,” he whispered.
Tearing her gaze away, Maddie willed her racing heart to slow. He courted her with a fine dress and jewels, sweet wine, and now, pretty words. Damn it, she didn’t want to feel flattered. Or special. To him, she was the means to an end. Despite his attention, she dare not ever make the mistake of believing herself important to Brock again, except in his quest for wealth.
But if he merely wanted to coerce her into marriage, why bother with all the trappings of romance?
#
Brock tucked away his notes on a diamond mine in South America, knowing the only gem to occupy his thoughts again this afternoon was Maddie.
He wanted to see her thick auburn tresses spread across his sheets, ached to feel her naked breasts in his mouth, her nipples hard and straining against his tongue as he plunged his cock deep within her slick folds. Sighing, he closed his eyes, imagining her eyes stormy with desire for him, her voice trembling as she begged him to fuck her.
But if her passion had matured these past five years, so had her determination. As a girl, Maddie had been eager to please. She had always worn a smile, spoken a friendly greeting, glowed with optimism. Today, she was guarded and stubborn—and resolved to have no part of him.
No doubt she was furious with him for wishing to enter her life again in nearly the same state in which he’d left it: that of her fiancé and lover. Still, she was not indifferent to him. Her rapid breathing, lingering stares, softening posture when he said just the right words gave her away. All that—and her poverty—played directly into his plans.
He couldn’t wait to see her reaction to his note.
“ Have you heard from her yet?” Jack asked, peeking his head inside Brock’s office.
“ No.”
“ She’s going to be