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He looked to his driver. ‘I’ll rouse Miss Hayes and then you can get off for the
evening.’
‘It’s fine, sir. I’ll wait and take her home when you’re ready.’
‘No,’ he said on impulse. ‘She can stay with me for the night.’
If Colin was surprised he knew better than to say anything. Hell, Marcus was surprised enough for the two of them. None of this was normal.
But then, she was far from normal. She was the Jennifer Hayes. His head spun anew. How could he have pegged her so wrong? He’d deemed her older, colder, nothing like the intoxicating bundle now hauled up against him.
She had achieved so much, and yet there was no way she was even his side of thirty. He tightened his arm around her, admiration going to his head even while anxiety crept in.
No, he definitely couldn’t let her go without explaining who he was, what he would be to her from nine a.m. tomorrow, clearing the air and dealing with the fallout.
Goddamn you, Andrews!
If he’d only turned up and done what he was supposed to then none of this would have... Ah, hell! He didn’t want that either. He wouldn’t wish away their evening—not if his life depended on it.
But there was no denying it was a bloody mess.
Next to him, Jennifer stirred.
‘Hey...’ He bowed his head to hers. ‘We’re here.’
She mumbled and snuggled down further, teasing out a smile from him despite his creeping unease. A gust of cold air swept through the car and she wrapped her arms tighter around her chest but made no attempt to rouse herself.
He looked to Colin. ‘Get the doorman to escort us. I’m going to carry her up.’
‘Of course, sir.’
He disappeared off and Marcus turned his attention back to Jennifer. Settling her down on the back seat, he slid out of the car and reached back inside, his arms hooking under her. She folded into him naturally, her head dropping into the crook of his shoulder, and he was straightening up by the time Colin returned with the doorman.
‘Bring her bag, please,’ he said to him, and then to Colin, ‘I’ll see you at eight.’
Keen to get her out of the cold, Marcus headed into the building. The doorman, complete with bag, beat him to the waiting elevator and swiped the card for the penthouse.
As they ascended Jennifer rubbed her face against him, her delighted little noises doing weird things to his chest. He knew the doorman was doing his damnedest to stay professional, working hard to conceal his bemusement at the situation. Marcus couldn’t blame him. It was weird for him too.
What the hell was he doing?
He should have woken her up, got her address and had Colin take her home. But even as he acknowledged the thought, he dismissed it. This way he had a chance to keep control of the situation, tell her who he was and get it dealt with.
The lift came to a stop, the doors opening onto his private foyer, and he stepped out. He gave directions for the doorman to leave the bag and bade him goodnight. Now he was standing in his vast suite, his creature comforts surrounding him, and there was a woman he barely knew curled up in his arms.
For the first time in his adult life he had no idea what to do and, boy, did it grate on him.
If she’d been awake it would have been different. There were plenty of options that sprang to mind. Like an honest conversation, for one. As well as the not so virtuous options which, despite his recent release, still got too much of his vote.
And for that reason alone he didn’t dare wake her.
Not yet.
He needed his control firmly in place before she set those evocative eyes on him again. Bizarre, really, as his control was the one thing he had always been able to depend upon. But it had fallen by the wayside tonight.
It had to be the illicitness of it all. Surely once the cat was out of the bag it would all become entirely manageable. She would be manageable.
He looked to the various doors. There were two bedrooms. He could put her in the guest room. It was nice, cosy enough. His body immediately rejected the idea, and his mind came quickly to its aid—You can’t leave her to wake up without you. She’ll have no idea where she is.
