The Billionaire's Matchmaker(30)

She laughed. “Of course, you agree with that. You’re a man. But I have to think this through. I agree the guy is gorgeous. But he’s trouble. Anybody keeping a secret is trouble. I just don’t know what kind yet. Worse, I can’t talk to my friends because I can’t tell them who he really is. It isn’t just a matter of my promise to him. I’m not the kind of person violates another person’s privacy.”

She switched the necklace tray back to the left with a sigh. “No strings attached. No commitment. Basically, sex for fun. I’ve dated since my divorce, but deep down I’ve always been looking for Mr. Right. This would just be about sex.” She shook her head. “My reputation-conscious parents would be horrified.”

Charlie tilted his head.

“Right. They’re an hour’s drive away. There’s no way they’d find out unless I told them…and, frankly, why would I tell them?”

Charlie barked.

She sighed. “Oh, Charlie, you see the world so simply. It’s not so simple for humans.”

Charlie just looked at her.

“And it’s not like me to be so easy.” She shifted the display case of earrings back to the right, thinking how childish the term ‘easy’ sounded. She was an adult. Technically she was considering taking a lover. Not a boyfriend. Not a potential mate. But a lover.

A thrill ran through her at the thought. A lover. It was the ultimate proof of maturity. Of independence. Of stability. She didn’t need a man. She wanted a man.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She really wanted this man.

“I wish I knew what he’d meant last night. If he was making a proposition or giving me the brushoff.”

She paced away from the display case, tapping her fingers on her chin. “Even if he was making a proposition, I’d need more time with him, getting to know him, before I decide what to do.”


Charlie grabbed the leg of her trousers and coaxed her toward the door.

She laughed. “I’m not going to the sheriff’s office to chat. That would be ridiculous.”

But when Claudette arrived, she retreated to her office and found herself with nothing to do. The shopping network took care of the administrative work that used to bog her down in red tape. All she had to do was design new pieces, take the plans to the manufacturing plant that now made her jewelry and show up at the studio on the days they were taping her show.

It was no wonder she was overthinking the situation with Dell. She was bored.

She glanced down at Charlie. “I don’t have to stay here. With Claudette to handle customers, I could go home. I could cook again. Take supper to Dell’s house. He wants no-strings-attached sex. I want to make sure choosing him for a lover is a good idea. Why shouldn’t I go to his house?”

Charlie barked approvingly.

…

Four hours later, she showed up on Dell’s doorstep with homemade vegetable soup and bread. He answered the door with wet hair, wearing only blue jeans that hung low on hips lean hips, as if he’d jumped into them after a shower.

Her mouth watered.

“What’s this?”

She had to look down at her crock pot because the sight of him had knocked rational thought out of her head. “Soup. Bread. I made too much for myself and I thought I’d share again.”

He opened the door a little wider, granting her entry. She stepped inside, surprised to see how simple his home was. Unlike her grand foyer with its marble and curving staircase, his entry was nonexistent. His front door opened onto his living room. Though nicely decorated with hardwood floors and a modern black leather and chrome sofa and chair in front of a tile fireplace, it wasn’t the kind of home anybody would expect an O’Neil to have.

“Set the food on the coffee table and toss your jacket on a chair. I’ll get some bowls and spoons.”

“You’d eat in your living room?

He laughed. “I do anything I want.”

Watching him leave, she swallowed. With a backside like his, she didn’t doubt he did whatever he wanted.

Another thing to consider. If she decided to sleep with him, she’d want to be exclusive sexual partners. A guy like him probably didn’t do exclusive.

He returned with the bowls and spoons, and she still stood by the door like a ninny. After setting the utensils on the coffee table, he took the crock pot from her hands and set it beside them. She quickly removed her jacket and tossed it to the chair as he sauntered over to her again.

Without missing a beat, he slid his hands to the back of her neck under the waterfall of her hair and lifted her head as his descended to kiss her.

Their mouths met deliciously. Before she realized what was happening their tongues were twining. Her blood raced through her veins. All solidity left her body.

As if realizing she was about to fall into a puddle of desire at his feet, he moved his hands from her neck, down her back. One stopped at her waist. One slid to her bottom.

The intimate touch of his hand sent a shot of need straight to her femininity. As their mouths mated and he kneaded the supple flesh of her behind, his other hand slowly drifted to the spot just beneath her breast.

Red-hot desire exploded in her core. When his hand covered her breast, it was all she could do to control a whimper. He massaged for a second then found her nipple.

“What do you say we get rid of your sweater?”