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“Marco! What are you—”
“Kissing you goodbye,” he said. “And kissing you hello. And do not tell me about mixing business with pleasure, cara, unless you have forgotten that I make the rules here.”
She raised her face to his. For one awful instant, he couldn’t read her eyes. Then she laughed and he laughed and he gathered her close and kissed her.
He heard the receptionist, who had a clear view of things from her desk, gasp. He heard the doors swish shut. He heard them open again on the lobby level, which would be crowded with his employees at this time of day.
It was just the audience he wanted, and he took all the time that kissing Emily deserved.
“You are mine,” he said when, at last, he raised his head.
The look on her face turned his knees weak.
“Of course I am,” she whispered, and he lifted her off her feet and swung her in a circle while she threw her head back and laughed.
******
He considered taking her with him to Tiffany’s. Letting a woman pick out her own engagement ring was probably the modern way to do things, but there was nothing modern about falling in love.
So he told Charles to drive them home and he told her a small lie.
“I have to make a stop,” he said, as she sat curled against him in the back of the Mercedes. “I promised a guy I’d meet him for a quick drink and the only way I’m going to get through it is to think of you on the terrace, wearing something that’s going to make my blood pressure soar.”
“It’s too cool for the terrace,” she said, running her index finger over his bottom lip. “I won’t have any choice but to wait for you in bed.”
The privacy screen was up. That meant he could slip his hand under the very businesslike skirt of her very businesslike suit. Beneath it, she wore very unbusinesslike thigh-high hose and an even more unbusinesslike silk thong.
The Mercedes pulled to the curb. She caught her breath as he skimmed his fingers under the thong.
“Don’t be gone too long,” she whispered.
“I won’t, I promise.”
“Because—”
“Because you’ll miss me?”
She smiled. “I will. But—” Her smile tilted. “But we have to talk. About—about me. And my family. I haven’t told them about us. About you. I haven’t told you about them. And there’s so much to tell you—”
“Your great-great-grandfather was a horse thief.”
His tone was solemn but his eyes were filled with laughter. How could she not laugh, too?
“No?”
“No. But there are things—”
“Sweetheart.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “What do I care if the Texas Madisons are not perfect?”
Emily flinched. “See? Even calling them that—”
“Not good?” He grinned. “Don’t worry. I promise to mind my manners. I will speak properly to… I don’t even know their names.”
“My brothers are Jacob, Caleb and Travis. My sisters are Lissa and Jaimie. And—” she swallowed. “And my father—”
“I will salute your father,” he said, trying to chase the serious expression from her face. “Shake hands with your brothers. Kiss your sisters.” There was no answering smile. Was she worried about how he would deal with her family? Had she forgotten that he had not always lived in penthouses and ridden around in Ferraris and limousines? “Emily. Stop worrying. Everything will be fine.”
“They won’t be what you expect.”
