Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [77]
His hand closed on hers as she released the cup, and she looked up to meet eyes that were bright with suspicion. “What game is this you're playing, Brenna?” he asked. “Jake said you were more upset than he'd ever seen you this afternoon. Yet now you're as cool as a cucumber. Don't you want to hear about Melanie?”
She returned his gaze steadily. “If you want to tell me,” she said quietly, “but it's not really necessary. Jake was right; I over-reacted.”
She could feel the tension gradually leaving Donovan's body. “I'm glad you realize that,” he said lightly. “I had visions of having to chase after you and drag you back by your hair.”
Brenna's gaze dropped to their interlocked hands. “I'm still here,” she said evasively. “Now, if you'll release me, I'll make that omelet.”
His grip reluctantly relaxed, and he leaned back on the stool and idly watched her as she bustled around the kitchen, beating the eggs, adding the milk, and heating the omelet pan, before pouring in the mixture. He didn't attempt to speak until she set the savory omelet before him, poured herself a cup of coffee and perched on the stool opposite him.
He took a bite of the omelet and looked up at her. “I needed Melanie to do a favor for me,” he said abruptly. His mouth twisted cynically. “Not that Melanie ever did anything for anyone without suitable compensation. This was no exception. I had to write her a very hefty check for her trouble.” He was eating steadily, his eyes watching Brenna's serene face alertly for signs of distress or suspicion. “I persuaded her to try to charm someone I want to join my organization. The old man is a great fan of hers, and I thought introducing her to him might conceivably tip the scales my way.”
“Daniel Thomas?” Brenna guessed.
Donovan nodded. “That's right. He joined us for lunch today.”
“Did it work?” Brenna asked, sipping her coffee slowly, and idly studying the way his thick, crisp hair clung to his head like a molten cap.
Donovan shrugged. “It's too early to tell. If it doesn't, I'll try something else.”
He had finished, and he pushed his plate away. He took a swallow of coffee, and his hand reached out once more to clasp hers.
“You scared the hell out of me, you know,” he said quietly. “I even called Phillips and told him to report to me if you left the house.”
“Poor Bob. What a skittery female he must think me,” she said lightly. She returned the pressure of his hand affectionately, and then rose and reached for his plate and utensils. “I'll just rinse these and put them in the drain.”
“No, leave them,” he said thickly. He drew her gently around the bar, to stand before him, his eyes running over her with a look that was a long embrace. “You grow more beautiful every day, do you know that?” he said hoarsely. He reached beneath the misty robe to pull the elasticized neckline down to bare her shoulders, before putting his lips to the pulse beat in the hollow of her throat. It leapt, as it always did, at the light touch of his tongue. Her breath almost stopped, as his hands closed on her breasts and thumbed the nipples through the light silk of her gown. He, too, was breathing quickly as his lips closed on hers in a long kiss that left them both languid and hot with need.
“You'd better be upstairs and in bed in two minutes,” he said raggedly, as their lips parted. “Unless you want to explore how erotic making love in a kitchen can be.”
She grinned and kissed him gently. “Some other time,” she promised lightly. She turned away quickly, as a swift jolt of pain went through her. There would be no other time after tonight.
She was waiting for him when he came into their bedroom a few minutes later, sitting quietly on the bed, her feet tucked beneath her. She had removed the robe and slippers, and had an air of childlike docility as he approached her.
His eyes were warm and intent on her as he started to un-button his shirt.
“No!” she reached up and stopped him. She knelt on the bed, and her fingers replaced him at