Page 24 of Dante (Members From Money Season 2. #153)

She contemplated just going home and staying there.

Barricading the doors to keep him out, but truth be told, she wanted to be with him.

Desperately. Even when she was mad at him, she still wanted to see him, touch him, be close to him.

She was a goner, she acknowledged in despair.

And if he did not feel the same way, well then, she was doomed. Because she loved him.

God help her, she was in love with him, helplessly, hopelessly. Irrevocably all the way gone over him. And could not see anything permanent in their arrangement. Yes, that's exactly what it was, an arrangement.

He was attracted to her, that much she realized.

As naive as she was where men were concerned and she was admitting it.

Apart from that worthless Michael, she had been with only one other guy and that was when she was in college.

The relationship had lasted a year and then they had parted amicably and stayed friends.

She had been so careful, telling herself that she wanted to make something of her life, before she started dating.

Her brother had sacrificed a lot for her, and she was not going to repay him by just jumping into bed with random men.

Apart from that, she always had the fear of abandonment.

Her parents had left them to fend for themselves, turned their backs on their own children.

It was something that had stuck in her craw and made her cautious.

Being an unwed mother had been the farthest thing from her mind. But here she was. Now she was caught up in a situation, she had no control over. She loved him. He was rude and arrogant, not to mention powerful and wealthy. He was also white.

And had women chasing after him. She had an idea that it was his aloof demeanor that mostly appealed to them.

She drove in behind him and switched off the engine. She was certainly not going to make it easy on him and behave as if she was eager to be here. Even though she was.

When he parked and exited the vehicle, he stood there for a few seconds as if waiting for her to do likewise. When it became apparent that she wasn't budging, he came over and opened the door.

"Are you coming in?" he asked mildly. He had come back from the meeting to head straight out, only coming back when it was time to leave.

"I'm contemplating."

"Can you do your contemplating indoors?" He glanced at the sky. "It looks like it's going to rain and it's bloody cold."

She bristled at his tone. "See, right there, is where I have a problem."

"I get it." She braced back against the seat when he reached in. Ignoring her, he simply lifted her out and into his arms.

"Put me down."

Kicking the door shut, he took her key and engaged the alarm and for the first time, noticed the dings on the grey chrome. "What kind of crap are you driving?"

Her eyes flashed at his derisive tone, and she struggled to be released.

He just tightened his arms around her and kept her there. "I might not drive a Lamborghini or a BMW, but this takes me where I want to go."

"How long have you had this junk?"

"That's none of your business."

"Let me guess, you bought it when you were in college."

"So?"

"And never saw fit to trade it in?"

"I could not afford it."

"I'll make a call to Roger tonight. The company has part ownership in several car dealerships." He started for the entrance, not noticing her ominous expression. "I think a convertible Mercedes Benz would do you fine."

"You're not buying me a car."

He punched the elevator button and chose that moment to glance down at her. A smile curved his lips at the incensed expression on her beautiful face.

"I will not have my woman driving around in that piece of junk. What kind of man do you take me for?"

"The kind who thinks he can have his own way." The car whizzed up and came to a stop, the doors opening.

"The kind who takes care of his own."

"I'm not your woman." Even though the statement warmed her, she felt a sense of outrage at his incredible arrogance. The man was impossible.

"Aren't you?" he drawled. Something in his deep voice had her easing back.

His head swooped down before she could evade his lips.

The kiss was punishing, his mouth bruising hers.

They were at the base of the staircase, and he just held her against him as he deepened the kiss.

With a moan of surrender, she wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him back.

"That settles it," he whispered thickly as he lifted his mouth from hers. His eyes were a swirling mass of emotions that left her weak. "You're mine." He growled. "Never forget it."

Without a word, she buried her face on his shoulder and closed her eyes as she tried to steady herself.

"Please don't buy me a car."

He bound up the steps with her and was barely winded. Shoving the doors open, he did not stop until he was sitting on the edge of the bed with her cradled against him.

"It will ease my mind to know that you're driving something reliable."

She shook her head. "The car runs good most of the time and I'm not ready for that kind of change, not yet."

Putting her away from him, he bent to take off her boots like he always did. "We're in a relationship Courtney. When are you going to acknowledge it?"

"I'm trying to not be overwhelmed. This is new for me."

"As it is for me." He tugged off the boots and dumped them on the floor and started to remove her stockings. His hands on her feet, sent shivers racing along her spine.

"Was that why you were so angry with me?"

He looked up at her for a second before rising. "Here." He took off her sweater. "I was angry with myself."

"Why?"

He worked on the hook and zipper of her skirt. "I never planned on any of it. I was determined not to be involved to this point." He had almost said the word 'love' but shied away from it. He was not certain he was ready to tell her. To be that vulnerable.

He took off the skirt and felt his blood draining out of his head at the sight of the sheer white lace underwear. "You go to my head," he admitted reluctantly. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. Hell, I'm not a good bet, but I need you."

He turned away from her and started pacing, his hands jammed into the pockets of his dress pants. Pulling the sheets, she used them to wrap around her as she watched him. He looked angry and bewildered as if he was out of his depth.

"Hungry?" he stopped in front of her.

"What?"

"We have not had dinner."

She nodded slowly, wondering how on earth she was not suffering from whiplash. The man was totally unpredictable. "I suppose I am."

"I'll see what Mrs. Hughes prepared." His gaze wandered over her face and settled on her lips. "I'll be right back."

Slipping off the bed, she went to the case she had brought with her and took out an old T-shirt. She had thought about something sexy, but had in defiance, chosen the shirt instead. Taking off her bra, she folded it carefully and put it in the case.

She was about to get back in bed when a splash of color caught her attention. The painting was mounted over the hearth, and she was quite certain it was a Jackson Colby original. Even without seeing the signature scrawled in the corner, she could identify the style. It was mesmerizing.

She knew he had an inordinate amount of talent, but seeing the swirl of vivid colors reflecting some sort of complicated maze, made her even more aware of his talent.

"I told him I had no idea what the hell it is."

His voice behind her had her jolting slightly.

"It's an abstract, so therefore it's open to interpretation," she murmured, still staring at the painting.

He settled the tray with the soup and thinly sliced roast beef on the table before coming up behind her. She took a quiet breath when he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him.

"And what's your interpretation?"

She studied the painting for a few more minutes before she spoke. "Life in a rush." She nodded to the faint glimpses of individuals wandering around without direction. "It's beautifully orchestrated and presented. See how the colors mixed to form a unit?"

He gazed at the outrageously expensive art and saw nothing of the sort. "Just a bunch of colors to me. Looks like something a two-year-old could splash together."

Turning her head, she gave him a pitying look. "You're such a peasant."

He grinned, not in the least bit offended. "And proud of it." He kissed her roughly.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she turned back to look at the painting. "If that's your opinion, why did you buy it?"

"Jackson is a friend and it's an investment.

All his paintings are." He turned her around towards the sofa in front of the table.

"I have a few more in the different rooms. My favorite," he paused as he made sure she settled before removing the covers from the dishes, "is one where he painted a seething mass of white capped emerald water in a small pond. "

He handed her the spoon. "It spoke to me and reminded me of a place I have in Ireland."

"I asked her to make vegetable soup, in case the beef does not agree with you."

Her heart just melted at his consideration. "Thanks."

He nodded and started eating. "Have any idea what you're having?"

"Pardon?"

"The baby. Boy or girl?"

"Too soon to tell." She scooped up chunks of vegetables and took a bite. "It's delicious."

"What's your preference?"

"Oh." She chewed and swallowed, feeling the queasiness disappearing. "As long as it's healthy, I'm fine."

He lifted a brow. "You're not secretly wishing for a daughter who looks exactly like you?"

Her laughter had him jolting as he stared at the transformation. She was so beautiful, he thought achingly.

"You caught me. Yes, I would love to have a little girl." She placed one hand on her belly. "I keep expecting to feel her moving around inside me, but the books say it's too early for that."