Mad About the Man (18 page)

“Ask for Oscar Johannas,” he told her. “He's got everything arranged for you. From now on, you'll be able to just breeze in and out at will.”

“Sounds good.”

Sounded great.

“Gotta go. See you at seven,” he said.

“Seven, it is.”

He hung up; it took her a few extra seconds to disconnect.

With a sigh, she went back to work, a secret little smile on her lips.

*   *   *

“Here is your elevator passkey, key card, and entry code for the private back entrance that Mr. Monroe and senior staff use,” Oscar Johannas explained. “Everything has been tested, so you should have no problems, but if you do run into trouble, just tell me or the head of security, Mr. Baxley. We'll get it straightened out right away.”

“Thank you, Mr. Johannas,” Brie said.

“Oscar,” he corrected with a polite smile.

The pair of them were standing in the entry hall of the penthouse. Mr. Johannas, or rather
Oscar
, had insisted on escorting her upstairs to make sure she was settled in while she waited for Maddox. Apparently, he was still sequestered in one of his many meetings.

Oscar had been waiting for her to arrive, welcoming her by name only seconds after she'd walked into the elegant lobby. She remembered him from the first time she'd come to the hotel; he'd been the one to show her upstairs that time too. But whatever thoughts he might be having about the change in her relationship with Maddox, he didn't say. Too well trained, no doubt.

Oscar proceeded to rattle off a list of the hotel amenities to which she was now entitled. Her eyes widened at the extent of Maddox's generosity, including free foraging rights in his hotel kitchen. Lobster tails with drawn butter and beluga caviar at three a.m.—just ring room service.

At the end of the GM's speech, she found herself unable to decide if she felt more like a VIP guest or a pampered mistress.

One thing was for sure—she didn't feel like a girlfriend having a sleepover at her boyfriend's place. It was a peculiar sensation for a modern businesswoman to have, to say the least.

“Is there anything I've forgotten to explain or any other way I may be of service to you, Ms. Grayson?”

“Brie. And hey, if I'm supposed to call you Oscar, then I insist you call me Brie.”

Oscar relaxed, a warm, genuine smile on his face. “Brie, it is. So, anything more I can do?”

“There is one thing.”

“Yes?”

“Do you know how to work the coffeemaker in this place? I've got briefs to review tonight and I may need the caffeinated support to make it through.”

His smile got wider. “Sure. Follow me to the kitchen and I'll get you set up.”

Once the lesson was over—Maddox's ultrasophisticated stainless steel coffee/latte/cappuccino steam machine wasn't nearly as daunting as it looked—she asked the question that she just couldn't get out of her mind.

“So, do you do this often?”

“Do what?”

“Show Maddox's girlfriends around the place?”

His dark eyes gleamed; he shook his head. “No, Brie. I can truthfully say you're the first.”

“Oh.” A satisfied glow formed in her chest as it had earlier that day.

“We're a family here, so once again, welcome. Everyone is pleased to see Maddox so happy.”

“Is he?”

“Yes, and now that we've become further acquainted, I can understand why.”

She smiled, far more flattered than she wished to admit.

“Good evening, Brie. Paul will be up any minute with your meal. Maddox should be finished with his meeting and on his way up shortly.”

“Good night.”

Quietly, Oscar saw himself out.

*   *   *

It was nearly midnight when Maddox returned to his penthouse for the second time that evening.

The first time had been to enjoy a delicious but far-too-brief meal with Brie; then he'd been off for another round of discussions with some investors interested in his overseas expansion plans. Quite legitimately, he could have included Brie in the conversation, but at this early stage, he'd found that it was better to leave the lawyers out of the equation, even if Brie did happen to be more than a hired adviser.

He locked the door behind him and walked through the darkened apartment toward the main source of illumination.

He found Brie in the dining room. Her laptop screen saver displayed a picture of a herd of black-and-white striped zebras, while stacks of papers and reports were spread everywhere around her. A half-empty cappuccino in a white china cup had grown cold near her elbow and she was sound asleep, one cheek pillowed atop a lined yellow legal pad, a pen slack between the fingers of her right hand.

A low, delicately ladylike snore escaped from her lips. He grinned at the sound, knowing he would once have relished it as prime fodder for teasing. But now he thought it was one of the most adorable things he'd ever heard and luckily not something she did as a rule. He would keep it to himself, knowing better than to mention it to her when she was awake.

If she'd been resting in a more comfortable position, he would have left her to sleep. But if she stayed this way for long, she would end up with a crick in her neck. She would get a far better night's sleep in bed.

He snapped off the overhead light, leaving only a single lamp on in the adjacent living room to ward off the darkness. Bending over her, he pressed his lips ever so softly against her cheek.

“Brie-Brie,” he whispered. “Sweetheart, time to go to bed.”

Her eyelids fluttered slightly and she mumbled something unintelligible under her breath, then sighed and went on sleeping.

He chuckled softly. “Hey, sleepyhead, wakey, wakey.”

This time she roused a little more. “Wha—Maddox? Is that you?”

“Yes. Come on. Let's get you up out of that chair so you can go to bed.”

“'S your meeting over? What time is it?”

“About midnight. I just got in.”

She blinked and sat up, pushing her tousled hair out of her face. “Hmm, sorry. Guess I conked out on you.”

“You were tired. Why didn't you just go ahead and go to bed?”

“I had work.” She yawned widely, blinked again. “Still do. Wow, I really dropped off.” She glanced sleepily around at all the papers and her notes. “Let me heat this coffee up again and I'll finish up.”

“No, no more coffee and no more work. Not tonight anyway.” He took the pen out of her hand, then reached out to shut off her computer.

“Hey, I was using that.”

“You can use it again tomorrow. Everything will be waiting for you in the morning.”

“I know, but . . .”

“You're about to drop.” He urged her to her feet. “You'll function better with a solid eight hours under your belt.”

“But I've got to be up by five so I can run home and change and get into the office by seven thirty.”

“You're a partner now. You can go in late every once in a while and no one will say a word.”

“Yes, but—”

“I already asked Oscar to pick up a few suits for you in your size. They should be hanging in the closet. And he's arranged for all your favorite bath products, toothbrush, brush, comb, and other essentials. You'll need an extra set of everything for the nights you'll be spending here, so I thought I'd get you started.”

She scowled, trying to rouse the requisite outrage over his high-handed actions, but as he could see, she was just too tired. “You're . . . you're . . .”

“Yes? What am I?” Bending, he scooped her into his arms.

She gasped.

He gazed into her beautiful, sleepy blue eyes and started toward the bedroom.

“Oh, I'll tell you later when I'm not half-asleep.” She snuggled her head against his shoulder and sighed wearily. “But you'd better set the alarm for six fifteen. I can't be any later than eight.”

“Hmm-hmm, we'll see.” He laid her on the bed.

“Maddox,” she protested, her eyelids drooping again. She reached for the buttons on her blouse.

Gently, he brushed her hands aside. “Shh, let me.”

With swift efficiency, he stripped her down to her bra and panties, then eased her beneath the sheets. She was sound asleep again seconds later, her head comfortably cradled on a plump pillow.

Maddox padded back out to the dining room and kitchen for a last check of lights and appliances, then returned and went into his bathroom to wash and change. He came out again less than ten minutes later, switched off his bedside lamp, and climbed in next to her. Gathering her into his arms, he closed his eyes and joined her in a world of dreams.

*   *   *

Brie awakened, feeling luxuriously rested and wonderfully content. She stretched against the sheets, a smile on her mouth as she bumped a hand against the warm male slumbering at her side.

She cracked open an eyelid and looked at him, lying darkly handsome against the pure white bed linens. Then her gaze drifted past, idly glancing at the luminous dial on his bedside clock.

Eight thirty, it read.

Eight thirty?

On a Tuesday?

Oh. Good. Christ.

She was late! And she was never late.

In a panic, she flung back the covers and leaped from the bed.

“Hey, where's the fire?” Maddox grumbled, his voice thick and groggy with sleep.

“Under my I-overslept butt.” She pointed a finger at him. “
You
are so in trouble. What were you thinking, turning off the alarm? Crap, where are my clothes?”

“In the closet, as I told you last night, although I'm not surprised you don't remember, considering how sleepy you were.” He sat up, ran a set of fingers through his sleep-mussed hair. “Hey, calm down. The world's not going to end because you're a little late.”

“Not a little—
two hours
. And I have a conference call at nine thirty.” Her stomach squeezed as the realization set in. “If I rush, maybe I can still make it.”

She raced to the closet and flung open the door. Inside she found a rack of gorgeous, sophisticated feminine suits and dresses hanging on their own separate bar in the midst of his wardrobe. Her new clothes were made of luxurious materials and looked extremely expensive. She flicked a finger over one tag and rolled her eyes at the la-la designer label. A downward glance and she discovered a neat row of women's shoes in a range of complementary colors—mostly Jimmy Choos and Manolos, if she wasn't mistaken. Without taking the time to check out the styling details, she grabbed a suit in dark blue off the hanger, a shirt, and a pair of matching heels, then hurried back to fling everything on the bed.

“Your conference call isn't until eleven. So relax—you've got time.”

She stopped, a light blue and white polka-dot silk shell in her hands. “What do you mean? How do you even know what's on my schedule?”

“Because I checked the calendar on your cell. I tried to wake you up at six thirty as requested, but you were really out of it. So I texted your assistant, Gina, and told her you're having a slow start this morning and could she juggle your appointments around?”

“You talked to Gina?”

“Texted, yes.”

“But—”

“But nothing. She had it all rearranged and rescheduled within a half hour. You're lucky to have her. She's very efficient.”

“Yes, I know that.” She dropped down on the bed, the shirt forgotten. “Did she know it was you?”

His mouth tilted up in a wry half smile. “No, I used your account and kept it brief, so I presume she thinks she spoke with you. Satisfied?”

She nodded. “Sorry. It's just—”

“That you don't want word of our relationship getting around the office. I get it. Though I hate to burst your bubble, kiddo, by making the observation that we have been seen out in public together. I'm not sure how big a secret we really are.”

“I know.” She sighed. “But still, we don't have to advertise.”

“God forbid, no. No advertising or splashy episodes of PDA.” He gave a mock shudder.

She made a face at his humor. Then she turned serious again. “So I was really so asleep this morning that you couldn't wake me up?”

“Yep.” He climbed out of bed, completely naked and completely comfortable with it; Maddox had very few inhibitions. “If I didn't know better, I'd think you'd taken some sleeping pills.”

He arched an inquiring brow.

She shook her head.

“Exhausted. Just as I thought. I've got to quit keeping you up until all hours.”

Her gaze moved over him and his long, powerful, rock-hard body. He really was quite beautiful. She sent him a slow smile. “Yes, but they've been good hours.” Her eyes dropped to his shaft, which thickened and stiffened under her gaze. “Great hours.”

“Hmm, so they have.” He held out a hand. “Come on.”

“Come where?”

“Shower. I thought we'd share.”

“I'm not sure that's such a good idea.”

He pulled her to her feet. “I think it's an excellent idea.” Without waiting for her consent, he unsnapped her bra and pulled it off, along with her panties. “Two birds and all that.”

He winked.

Her blood turned heavy and hot with anticipation. Taking his hand, she let him lead her toward the big marble-lined shower with multiple spray heads.

Reaching in, he turned them all on; steam quickly filled the space. He urged her in, under the deliciously warm spray. They were both wet in an instant.

Grabbing the soap, which smelled of fine-milled oatmeal, he worked up a lather in his large hands. He cupped them over her breasts before moving lower.

She groaned as he began soaping her everywhere, using gliding, soul-shattering strokes that nearly drove her mad. When he was finished, she took the soap and lathered him, not missing an inch.

Both of them were panting by the time she finished.