Dreams of Forever: Seduction, Westmoreland StyleSpencer's Forbidden Passion Page 21

  “That’s precisely what I’m doing.”

  His gaze had her entire body feeling hot. “Don’t fool yourself about that,” she tried saying in a calm voice. “I am not the woman you’re going to marry.”

  “Can you afford not to be?” he asked smoothly, cool and controlled.

  She refused to let him back her against the wall any further. Her back stiffened. “You would use my family’s land to force me into marriage with you?”

  She watched his mouth hardened around the edges. “Yes, and I wouldn’t hesitate doing so.”

  “And you would marry me, knowing I would despise you for it?”

  He nodded. “Yes, because I’ll put forth an extra effort each and every day to make sure you would eventually get over it.”

  She opened her mouth to give him the blasting retort she felt he rightly deserved when there was a knock at the door, indicating their dinner had arrived.

  * * *

  Chardonnay’s fragrance was getting to Spencer. It was an arousing scent that made him think of everything other than the half-eaten steak on his plate. The food had been delicious. But then, he figured, so was the woman sitting across from him. He wanted Chardonnay with a passion that, until now, had been foreign to him.

  During his lifetime he’d never allowed himself to be swept away by passion, infatuation or obsession. He hadn’t done that with Lynette Marie and he’d been quite taken with her. At least he’d thought so at the time. They had met and dated in college, and after graduating they had gone their separate ways, each wanting to devote time to their chosen careers.

  Hers had been in broadcasting and she had immediately landed a job at CNN as a television journalist. They had renewed their relationship almost ten years later after bumping into each other while both had been in New York on business. Afterward, they began a long-distance romance, which had worked for the both of them, lasting a couple of years. When he’d felt the time was right, he had asked her to marry him and she had accepted.

  A few months after announcing their engagement, she had gone to Bermuda on a three-month assignment. Unfortunately, with his busy work schedule, he never got a chance to visit with her while she was there. Then one morning while shaving, he’d gotten a phone call from her parents informing him of her accidental death.

  The coroner’s report had indicated that at the time of her death she was six weeks pregnant. Spencer had known the child wasn’t his since they hadn’t made love in over four months. Her betrayal left him determined to never share his emotions with a woman again. And he had sufficiently heeded that decision…until now.

  Inwardly frowning, he lifted his gaze and looked over at Chardonnay from across the table. Other than inquiring about her grandfather’s health and other mundane small talk, they hadn’t said much during dinner; however, she seemed to be enjoying her meal.

  Deciding they had put off the reason she was there long enough, he said, “Now we’ll talk, Chardonnay. But keep in mind we need to stick to the important issues, and I want your decision in forty-eight hours.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “You can’t expect me to make up my mind that soon.”

  “Yes, I can and I do. And I won’t change my mind about it. I refuse to give you time to drum up alternatives that I won’t go along with. All you’ll be doing is wasting both of our time. I presented the two options to you last night. Do you have anything you want to ask me about them?”

  “Yes,” she said, setting down her wineglass. “If we agree on the loan, what limits and restrictions will you be placing? And what happens if we miss a payment?”

  He leaned back in his chair. “The interest rate will be higher than the present market and if you miss a payment, I’ll begin foreclosure proceedings before you can bat an eye.”

  He had been brutally honest and from the look on her face she hadn’t liked his answer. He was intentionally making the loan unattractive and blatantly risky.

  He watched her hesitate a moment, fiddling with the food on her plate before lifting her head. Her stony-gray eyes met his dark ones when she asked in a curt tone, “This marriage of convenience you want. Just what would you expect of me?”

  A smile touched his lips when vivid visions flooded his mind, some so blatantly sexual they made him ache. “I would expect of you what any man would expect of his wife. I want to sleep with you every night, make love to you, get you pregnant—several times—and provide a home for you and our family.”

  She hesitated again, and then asked, “And after I’ve ceased being of any value to you?”

  He mused, surprised by the question. “Why would you think a time would come when you’d cease being of value to me?”

  From the expression on her face he could tell his question confused her, so he decided to ask another. “Just how long did you assume I wanted our marriage to last, Chardonnay?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Until I had given you all the children you wanted.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Then what was I supposed to do with you after that?”

  “Divorce me.”

  He arched an eyebrow upon realizing she was serious. “There hasn’t been a divorce in the Westmoreland family since before I was born. In our eyes, marriage is sacred.”

  Donnay frowned. “Are you implying that you expect us to stay together forever?” she asked with disbelief in her voice.

  “Yes, till death do us part. Why wouldn’t that be the case?”

  He could tell his question caught her off guard. “Because most marriages of convenience are for a set period of time, and usually a rather short one.”

  “Ours won’t be. But I need to make sure you understand that love will not be a factor in our relationship mainly because it won’t have a place in our marriage. I don’t need it and personally I don’t want it.”

  He paused, wanting to make sure she understood what he was saying. When he continued speaking, his voice was slow and his words were chosen carefully. “If you agree to marry me, you’ll be agreeing to a loveless marriage, basically a business arrangement between us. I will treat you with respect and bestow upon you everything that comes with being my wife.”

  “Except love,” she interjected.

  He nodded. “Yes, except love.”

  She didn’t say anything for a brief moment. “And if I go along with marrying you, what guarantee do I have that you will give up the idea of turning the winery into some vacation resort?”

  “There aren’t any guarantees other than my word. And I will give it to you now. If you agree to marry me, Chardonnay, you and your family’s financial worries will be over. I will turn my attention toward three things. Getting married, getting you pregnant and doing whatever it takes to escalate the winery to an international scale. I agree that Russell wine is superb and I will put my money into making sure the entire world knows it, as well. I will help build the vineyard into something that we can one day pass on to our children.”

  “Why?” she asked quietly. “Why is getting married and having children important to you all of a sudden?”

  He lifted a brow. “What makes you think my wanting those things is a sudden urge?”

  She met his gaze. “Because you would have them already, if you truly wanted them.”

  He wouldn’t admit to her that he’d always wanted children. In fact, that was the main reason he had asked Lynette Marie to marry him. But after her death he had eradicated a family from his agenda…until the moment he had seen Chardonnay. Even now the thought of spending time with her in bed, getting her pregnant with his child, made him hard.

  “I’ll be thirty-seven in less than six months and over the years I’ve accumulated a lot of wealth. It’s wealth I want to pass on to my offspring and I need a wife to do it,” he said.

  “No, you don’t,” she argued.
“Men get women pregnant without marriage on their minds all the time.” He couldn’t help but wonder if she was thinking about her own father since he obviously wasn’t in the picture.

  “That’s another Westmoreland rule,” he said with strong conviction. “We take responsibility for our actions, no matter what they are. The only woman I ever intend to bear my child is the woman I’m married to.”

  His heart began beating like an insistent drum when he watched her push her plate away, signifying that dinner was officially over. He stood and walked over to the phone and called room service to come clear away their plates and to bring them another bottle of wine from Russell Vineyards. After that was done he leaned against the counter and said, “Now I have a question for you.”

  Her gray eyes flickered his way.

  “I know about your involvement with that professor a few years back. Are you involved with anyone now?”

  He watched as a dark color stained her cheeks and he could tell that once again she had been caught off guard by one of his questions. She probably felt outrage in knowing he had dug into her past, knew her personal business. “Don’t be bothered by the question, Chardonnay. Like I told you before, I make it my business to know everything there is to know about any business partner, and that’s exactly what you and I will be if we choose to marry. Partners. There won’t be any secrets between us.”

  “Would it matter?” she all but snapped. “It appears I don’t have any secrets you don’t know about anyway.”

  “No, you probably don’t,” he agreed quietly, thinking he’d let one woman do him in with her secrets and blatantly refused to let such a thing happen again. “You never did answer my question as to whether you’re involved with anyone now.”

  She glared at him. “You seem to know everything there is about me. What do you think?”

  He slowly strode over to the table to stand in front of her. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Chardonnay. It’s what I want to know, what I want you to tell me, what I want to hear from your own lips. And if I ever find out you’ve deceived me, there will be hell to pay and the Westmorelands will have the first divorce in the family in over fifty years.”

  A sudden knock on the door announced the arrival of room service. Deciding to let her sit while his words sank in, he moved away toward the door. Minutes later, after the hotel staff had cleared the table and left, they were alone once more and he had no intention of letting her not answer the question he had asked earlier.

  Seconds turned into minutes before she finally gave him an answer, after releasing what he considered a frustrated sigh.

  “No, I’m not involved with anyone.”

  He took a step back, satisfied. A smile touched the corners of his lips. “That’s good to know, especially considering what I’m about to do,” he said, removing his jacket.

  She frowned. “And just what are you about to do?”

  He glanced at her. “Prove you wrong. I intend to show you that I am most definitely your type.”

  Chapter 6

  Donnay quickly got to her feet. “You will do no such thing!”

  She stared at Spencer, wondering if he had lost his mind…and at the same time wondering if she had lost hers, when desire began heating her entire being. She gritted her teeth, refusing to give in to what she was feeling, what was trying to take control of her impeccable good sense.

  “Why shouldn’t I get the chance to prove I am your type?” he asked, taking off the cuff links to his shirt. “However, if you want to go ahead and concede that you’re wrong—”

  “I am not wrong!”

  “Then prove it,” he countered. “Or rather let me prove otherwise.”

  She held her ground, though she could feel herself start to tremble. With fear…or desire? “I don’t intend to let you prove anything, Spencer.”

  “That means you either don’t know your own mind or you’re afraid of what I’m capable of doing to that mind.”

  The latter was true and in acknowledging that fact, a sensuous shiver rippled down Donnay’s spine. Their kiss last night had done things to her she hadn’t expected. It had literally blasted her world into another hemisphere. Another kiss might be even more lethal than the last and she had no intentions of playing with fire. Seeing him now, standing there, staring at her with his intense dark eyes, was making her entire body flush with some sort of feminine heat she’d never encountered before. The room suddenly felt hot and she felt hot right along with it and wondered if she was running a temperature. The Spencer Westmoreland kind.

  “Do you know what I think? What I truly believe?” he asked in a deep, husky voice that set her body throbbing.

  She met his gaze. He was standing in the middle of the room, his legs braced apart in a sexy stance, with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, staring at her with an intensity that nearly made her weak.

  “No, and I couldn’t care less what you think or believe, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway,” she said curtly, just as angry with herself as she was with him. Why was he the one man who could cause such conflicting emotions to rip through her?

  “I think you’re a very passionate woman.”

  Passionate? Her? He had to be kidding. If he was basing his opinion on what had happened the other night he was way off. Although Robert had never complained, to be quite honest, she never found sex to her liking. It was all right, but definitely nothing she couldn’t do without. In her mind it was a process intended to make bodies sweat and give your muscles a fairly good workout. Nothing more, nothing less, and she was okay with that. But then, she couldn’t explain what was happening to her now. She didn’t think what she was experiencing had anything to do with passion. It was more akin to lust.

  “I think you have me mixed up with someone else,” she decided to say. “Either that or you’ve drunk too much wine and it’s screwed up your brain.”

  He didn’t respond and she eyed him as he bent over to remove his shoes and socks. “May I ask what you’re doing?” she inquired. He straightened up and kicked his shoes aside.

  Another smile touched his lips. “I told you what I’m doing. I intend to prove to you that I’m your type.”

  She placed her hands on her hips. “Evidently you didn’t hear me when I said that you’re not doing any such thing, and I don’t take you as the type of man who would force himself on a woman.”

  He smiled. “I’m not, but if a woman begs, then—”

  “Beg? The only thing I’ll beg is your pardon. Do I look like a woman who would beg a man for anything?”

  “Not yet.”

  He slowly began walking over to her, like a hunter cornering his prey. But she refused to back up. He intended to prove her wrong and she intended to show him she was right. He was cocky, ruthless, domineering…all the things she never liked in a man. Therefore, he wasn’t her type. Men like him turned her off.

  Usually.

  So why not now? Why was the hard glint in his eyes daring her to look away, making certain parts of her body feel hot, wet and amazingly charged? And why was she suddenly remembering the kiss they had shared last night? The one that had had her purring, had made her want to press closer to him, feel every inch of him against her. The one that compelled her to drape herself over him, find her way into his lap while he claimed her mouth in a way no man had done before.

  He came to a stop in front of her and then stood there, almost body to body, face-to-face. “You’re remembering last night, aren’t you?” he asked, breathing the words against her mouth in a way that nearly moistened her lips.

  “No, I’m not remembering last night,” she denied.

  “Then how about letting me jog your memory?” he said. At the same time he reached up and tenderly caressed her cheek with his fingers.

  She forced the lump back down in her
throat, the one that was almost responsible for the soft purr that threatened to come out. She was beginning to forget everything, especially just how much she didn’t like Spencer. Instead she stood there and stared into his eyes in heated fascination while intense sensations flooded her stomach.

  “Do you know I could actually taste you in my mouth all day?”

  She licked her lips nervously, thinking Robert had never told her anything like that the day after they’d kissed. And when Spencer’s fingers left her cheek to caress the underside of her right ear, she couldn’t think at all. She swallowed and forced herself to speak, although the voice that came forth didn’t really sound like her own. “Can we talk about something else?”

  He chuckled, and she watched how the smile lines spread from one corner of his lips to the other. “Sweetheart, to be quite honest, we really don’t have to talk at all. In fact I prefer that we didn’t.”

  Donnay knew what was coming next and tried taking a deep breath to prepare for it, but nothing could have prepared any woman for the mouth that suddenly swept down on hers, taking it, capturing it while at the same time a sweet and delicious tongue danced inside.

  Instead of resisting, she met him and let him lead. She thought he had the flavor of peppermint, but the tang of man. A part of her felt a deep need to savor both. Her mind wasn’t prepared for this, although it seemed her body was. When she felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her body closer to the fit of his, she became aware of the way the hard, toned muscles of his abdomen complemented the lower part of her body, further stimulating its feminine heat.

  In some part of her mind it registered that his hands had moved from her waist and had begun a journey, exploring every inch of her body within their reach. But she was too preoccupied to get caught up in what Spencer’s hands were doing. She was too busy drowning in the warm scent of his cologne, and the way his tongue was melding to hers.

  Suddenly, however, she did become aware of his hands again when they inched down the back zipper of her slacks and slowly went inside the waistband to touch bare flesh. Her skin sizzled beneath his caress; her entire insides began throbbing. His hands were made for a woman’s pleasure. They were manly, yet soft to the touch.