The Magnate's Takeover: The Magnate's Takeover. Mary McBride
had more fun today than I’ve had in a long, long time,” she said, lifting the brandy glass toward him. “Here’s to my gracious and most gallant host.”
The clink of the crystal when their glasses touched was a bit of music all on its own.
“Here’s to Tom and Becky and Huck,” he said. “And here’s to you, Libby. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a good time. Not even when I was a kid.” He put the snifter down, and then his brow furrowed as he gathered in a long, deep breath.
It was one of those moments when a tiny little uhoh sounded inside her head. Furrows and long, deep breaths were rarely, if ever, followed by good news. Furrows and long, deep breaths usually, almost always, meant trouble.
“Libby,” he said softly, his eyes locking on to hers. “There’s something that I…”
His cell phone let out a sharp little bleep just then. David cursed as he wrenched it from his pocket and very nearly broke it open in order to respond. “What?” he growled. After listening for a minute or so, he pressed a button to put the caller on hold. “I have to take this infernal call, Libby. I’m sorry, darlin’.”
“Go ahead.” Libby swirled the remaining brandy in her glass. The candlelight turned its color to a dark and lovely honey. “Take your time, David. I truly don’t mind.”
He kissed her forehead before he slid out of the booth, then walked—well, the man stalked, if truth be told—to the far end of the bar to continue the conversation. From her vantage point, and judging from his body language, it looked as if he were bestowing some very bad news on the person at the other end of the connection.
For the moment, Libby was just thankful it wasn’t her.
David felt his mood darkening. Damn. He’d just had one of the best days of his entire life, but then business interrupted in the form of a threatened lawsuit by an irate guest in his London hotel, and his nervous Nellie of a British attorney felt obliged to alert him, personally, posthaste. David told the hysterical attorney if he ever called him again, he’d have him chained in the Tower of London, then drawn and quartered in front of Buckingham Palace with CNN given the exclusive rights to broadcast it live.
And now, to make matters worse, he’d be damned if he could locate something for Libby to wear in the hot tub. The little complimentary garments should have been stowed in a drawer in the penthouse spa, but it appeared as if someone—some soon-to-be former employee—had decided to stash hotel brochures, postcards and stationery there instead.
“It’s all right, David,” Libby said from her perch on the edge of the hot tub. “I can wear my bra and panties. It’s not a problem. I’ve done it before.”
The vision of her clad only in scanty silks, see-through no doubt, beside some big gorilla in a hot tub didn’t do a lot to lighten his current mood. He’d summon his assistant, Jeff, in a moment, no doubt ruining another of the man’s dinners. But meanwhile he continued to search like a madman, cursing, slamming drawers and cabinet doors, and all the while berating himself for losing the opportunity to confess to Libby and tell her just who he really was. That, he well knew, was at the heart of his current furor.
Earlier, downstairs in the darkness of the bar, the words had been right there on his tongue, and he’d been ready to get down on his knees if he had to in order for her to forgive him. He wanted her that much. He was going to tell her now, even before their time in the hot tub. What sense was there in prolonging it? Hell. It wasn’t as if he were going to confess to her that he was an axe murderer.
She would forgive him, wouldn’t she? She had to, otherwise…
Just behind him then, Libby cleared her throat and uttered a whispery little ta-da.
He turned to see a vision of absolute delight, Libby clad only in feminine briefs and a snow-white lacey bra. Considering how great she looked when fully clothed, David couldn’t even find words to describe her now. She grinned, and then pointed to the bubbling hot tub as she gave a pert little salute.
“Permission to come aboard, sir?”
David sighed inwardly. Whatever he’d intended to confess to her had suddenly flown right out of his head. And he had to admit that, even if he’d remembered, this was not the time to risk a confrontation. He might have been considered a liar under the circumstances, but he wasn’t a downright fool.
“Permission granted,” he said, quickly shrugging out of his own shirt and jeans, to join her in the warm caress of the water.
Settled chin deep in the wonderfully warm tub, feeling David’s lean body right beside hers, Libby’s eyes began to drift closed and she nearly fell asleep. How very strange, she thought, to feel so completely at ease with a man she’d only known for a mere two days. It wasn’t like her to feel so relaxed with anyone, even after knowing them for months.
“I could stay right here for an entire week,” she said, letting go of a soft and wistful sigh. “Maybe even a month.”
He chuckled. “I don’t know if I’d care to see you turn into a wrinkled, waterlogged prune, darlin’. I have to admit I like you just the way you are.”
She turned her head toward him, gazing up at his face where the sexy smile lines had reappeared.
“Do you?”
Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, and even she could hear the longing in her tone. She couldn’t help it. She adored this man, and she wanted him with every fiber of her being. If their coming together was fated to be only a brief affair before he went back to Japan, well, then, so be it. Sayonara to her dreams of the future. Libby decided to simply live in the present for now. Let the future take care of itself.
Perhaps it was the buoyancy of the water, but David drew her into his arms so effortlessly that Libby felt lighter than a feather. His lips were warm on hers, tender and wonderfully slow and sensuous. The touch of his tongue on hers was tender and exquisite. It seemed, just then, as if they had all the time in the world to explore and discover and make love to each other.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered. “But I already knew that from the first moment I saw you.”
His hand moved to her breast, cupping it, a perfect fit for his smooth wet palm, a perfect distance to her nipple for his thumb to circle and explore. Libby gave a little shudder, and leaned her head back onto the rim of the tub as he covered her neck with languid kisses.
He murmured against her skin. “I’ve wanted this…I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you clinging to that silly lamppost like a fallen angel.”
“Emphasis on fallen,” she said with a little sigh, then blew a puff of air upward to dislodge a damp stray curl from her forehead.
“No.” His hand eased from her breast and then smoothed slowly, thrillingly down, over her hip to her inner thigh. “Emphasis on want. I want you, Libby. All of you. Now.”
There was a great whoosh of water, and then she was high in his arms, clinging to his hard, wet neck as he carried her down a dimly lit hallway and into the bedroom where only the night before she’d watched the traffic flow like a river of jewels out the western window. He put her gently on the bed and left her for a brief moment to open a drawer, tear open a little square package, then returned to gather her into his arms.
“Tell me how to please you,” he said, his fingertips drifting up and down her arm, setting off little shock waves of desire all over her. Then his hand strayed to her leg and the shock waves increased. “Anything you want. Anywhere.”
Libby pressed closer to the hard length of his body, placing the palm of her hand to his cheek and tracing the now barely visible smile lines with her thumb. “Everything about you pleases me,” she said. “I just want you. All of you.”
They made slow, sensuous love while the diamond and ruby traffic lights flickered far below. In Libby’s experience—which admittedly wasn’t vast or all that recent—men