The Elliotts: Bedroom Secrets: Under Deepest Cover. Barbara DunlopЧитать онлайн книгу.
girlfriends the last couple of years since moving to D.C. A few women at work had invited her occasionally to join them for dinner or drinks or a movie, but she’d kept her distance. She’d told herself it was because she wanted to keep her focus on work and not get distracted until her career was better established. But she could see now she’d been punishing herself. Having fun had gotten her into a lot of trouble. Therefore, fun was bad and it had to be eliminated from her life.
She imagined Scarlet already had a full complement of friends, though. Anyway, Lucy probably wouldn’t have time for socializing. She had to go through all the data she’d downloaded from the bank and figure out who the embezzler was.
She helped Scarlet pack up her things and walked her to the elevator. “I’d walk you down and help you carry all this, but I don’t know how to get back in.”
Scarlet rolled her eyes. “Bryan’s silly elevator. He does have some pretty valuable artwork he doesn’t want stolen, but he so overdid it with the security.”
Maybe, but Lucy was grateful for it. They said goodbye. Then Lucy headed back up to the loft’s upper level, which housed the master suite and Bryan’s study. She wanted to move all of her things back down to her own bedroom before Bryan returned.
No such luck. She heard the elevator as she was heading down the stairs with an armload of clothing, her new wardrobe.
“Lucy?” he called out as he strode into the living room. “Oh, there you are. It took longer than I thought to go through the—” He stopped midstride and stared at her. “What have you done to your hair?”
“You … you don’t like it?” Lucy squeaked. Scarlet had pointed out that men liked long hair, and Bryan might not be too keen on the short ‘do. Her hair barely skimmed her jawline. Lucy had hesitated only briefly. The point was to look different, not to please Bryan.
But now she realized how badly she wanted him to like the new Lucy. Or rather, Lindsay.
“You just look so—Come down here. Put those clothes down and let me have a look at you.”
Lucy did as asked, laying the beautiful new clothes on a chair and standing there, feeling enormously self-conscious as Bryan looked her up and down, then walked behind her and all around her, his expression unreadable.
He came closer and reached toward her face. She tried not to react as he removed her glasses and studied her features.
“Scarlet gave me the name of an optometrist who can fit me with green contacts. I can do that tomorrow.”
“Okay.” He didn’t give her back the glasses. Instead, he stuck them in his shirt pocket.
“Well?” she said impatiently. “Will I do? Or do I just look ridiculous?” Maybe she was a sow’s ear that couldn’t pass muster as a silk purse.
A smile spread slowly across Bryan’s face, which was a bit blurry to her. “Oh, you’ll do, all right. Lucy, you look like a movie star.” His gaze on her was like a heat lamp. Or maybe the heat was coming from inside her. She couldn’t see him all that well, after all. She was probably imagining the blatant interest in the way he looked at her.
Suddenly, all she could think about was the way he’d kissed her earlier, so casually, and how she’d almost melted on the spot. It was all a game to him, but she wasn’t used to being deceptive.
“Don’t you think you should start calling me Lindsay all the time?” she said, sounding testy even to her own ears. “And if you’re going to kiss me like you did, at least give me a little warning.”
“We’re supposed to be besotted with each other, so you can expect me to kiss you just about any time.”
“O-okay.”
“You don’t sound too sure.” He grasped her upper arms with both hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “Do you think you can pull this off? If not, we’ll have to think of something else. My family can’t suspect the truth. That would be a disaster.”
Lucy was disturbed by the idea that he might change his mind, take her somewhere else, dump her in some hotel or something. In a very short time, she’d accustomed herself to the idea that she would be posing as Bryan’s live-in lover.
“I can pull it off,” she said. “But if we could rehearse—I mean, get our stories worked out, so I could, you know, know what to expect—”
He was watching her mouth. She stopped self-consciously. “Have I smeared my lipstick?”
“No, sweetheart, you look perfect. I was just thinking that we can’t have you looking like a startled cat every time I touch you or kiss you. So you’re right, of course. We need to rehearse.” And with that, he slanted his mouth against hers and kissed her as if he meant it.
Four
Lucy tasted like wild cherries. Maybe it was her lipstick, or maybe it was just how Lucy Miller tasted, but what Bryan had intended as a friendly, you-don’t-have-to-be-afraid-of-me kiss had turned into something much more.
Before he knew what was happening, Lucy’s arms had snaked around his neck, and she was kissing him back in a way that told him fear wasn’t in her vocabulary. She kissed as though she was born to it. Clearly she wasn’t the inexperienced virginal miss he’d pegged her for.
Or maybe he’d awakened some innate talent she had. He liked that idea better. He didn’t want to think about Lucy kissing other men, sleeping with other men.
Not that he would be sleeping with her. That would be taking their ruse a bit far. But kissing—for the sake of her cover story—was okay.
It was more than okay. He groaned as he buried his hands in her newly shortened locks. Her hair felt like the softest silk, and he found he didn’t really miss all that long, heavy hair. He liked the way the short ends tickled his hands and arms.
He stopped just short of pulling her hips against his and letting her know just exactly how okay her kiss was. But he did invade her mouth with his tongue, deepening the kiss, breathing in the heady scent of cosmetics and shampoo and new clothes that clung to her.
He’d never known new clothes could smell so sexy.
She pulled away suddenly, staring at him with wide, startled eyes. “What are you doing?”
That was a very good question. He casually pulled his hands out of her hair. “I thought we were rehearsing. Getting comfortable with each other.”
“Well … okay, I got it. That’s enough practice.”
He couldn’t help grinning. “You sure?”
“Yes, quite sure.”
She ran nervous fingers through her hair, mussing it worse than he’d done, and straightened her clothes. She was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling so dramatically that he was sure she was going to pop out of her teeny tank top.
Where had those plump breasts come from? He hadn’t seen them earlier. Since he doubted Scarlet had given Lucy silicone implants, the breasts must have been there all along, hidden under the frumpy outfits.
“I really need to go to bed,” she muttered, turning away. “I’m sure everything will make more sense in the morning. Oh, tomorrow remind me to bring you up to date on everything I told Scarlet. She was curious about me, and I’m afraid I just blathered the first thing that came into my mind.”
“Like what?”
“Well, you and I met in Paris. I returned to my home in Kansas, burned all my clothes and traveled to New York, naked.”
“What?”
“We’ll talk about this tomorrow, okay? I really have to go to bed. G’night, Bryan, and thank you for everything.” She grabbed her pile of clothes and fled, her sandals thunk-thunking against his wood floor as she headed for the guest room.