Her Gentle Capture (15 page)

“And my father is disgustingly
wealthy too.”

“Yes love.”

“They send me stuff because they love me.”

“I know that now.”

“And they’re going to continue to send me stuff.”

“I’ll provide you with everything you could ever want.”

She shook her head and stepped back. “I want a man who trusts me!” she almost yelled at him. “I want a man who is gentle and kind and loves me completely.”

“I’ll be that man.”

“You don’t trust me!” she
yelled. “You thought I was a…”

He covered her mouth, not letting her speak the word again. “I know. I’ll never say those words again. But if you’ll marry me, I promise to love you so much that you’ll never doubt me again.”

She hiccupped but he also felt her press more closely against him. “I don’t want to marry you,” she said and burst into tears. All the anguish over the last few days, all
the heartache and desperate longing for him to come and find her, to tell her these words…she couldn’t hold it back any longer.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the sofa against the wall, letting her cry out her anger at his harsh words while holding her gently on his lap. He didn’t try and stop the flow, just held her while she cried it out of her system, relieved at least
that her hands were holding onto him. He might have hurt her horribly, but he could tell that she didn’t want to let him go. Because of that, he was willing to put up with anything to help her recover from his asinine assumptions and stupidity at realizing how much she meant to him. .

When her crying had subsided into soft sighs, her arms still tightly wrapped around his neck, he asked the
question that had been burning inside of him ever since he’d realized what he felt for her. “Is there any way you could forgive me?” he asked, still holding her against his chest.

There was a long silence and she finally said, “Do you remember that first lunch we had together?”

He thought back to that afternoon, smiling at the memory of her eyes lighting up with the fire inside of her. She’d
been determined to prove that her ideas were right. They were good, but he’d challenged her again and again, loving the way her cheeks had turned pink when she was fired up. “Yes. You had some great ideas that day.”

Adriana raised her head, surprised by his announcement. “You never told me that.”

“Of course I didn’t. You would have stopped arguing with me.”

She pulled back even more. “And
that would have been a bad thing?”

He shrugged one of his massive shoulders. “I liked it,” he told her, chuckling softly when her mouth fell open in surprise.

“I was so…”

“It also turned me on,” he confessed.

She stared at him for a long moment, then closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. “Arguments turn you on?” she asked.

“Not all arguments,” he explained. “Just the ones where
you’re sitting across the table from me, looking like a prim, naughty librarian.”

He laughed when she seemed both offended and complimented by that statement. “I didn’t…”

“Yes,” he replied firmly. “You definitely did.” He bent lower and nipped at her ear, feeling the shiver run through her body. “And I loved it.” He lifted his head again. “So you’re going to marry me.”

She started to
slide off of his lap. “I’m not,” she told him, but laughed when his hands gripped her thighs, holding her in place. “I don’t love you. I could never love a man who likes to argue as much as you do.”

Mitch held her close, feeling relief when she laid her head against his chest. “Yes you do, love. And we’re going to be happy. I promise you’ll never get angry with me again.”

Adriana laughed
at the very possibility. “I doubt that very much,” she said but pressed her nose against his neck, trying to snuggle up against him. “You’re too horrible to stop yourself from being a jerk again.”

His hand smacked her bottom. Not hard, but enough to make her laugh. “What was that for? It’s true, you’re a jerk. I thought it all the time when I first started working for you.”

His eyebrow went
up and she continued. “I was disgusted by all the women who were lusting after you around the office. I was working my butt off trying to impress you and I never heard a single word of praise. Never once did you thank me for anything I did for you.” Adriana nodded her head to emphasize her point, then looked up at him. By the look in his eyes, she instantly knew she was in trouble and tried
to wiggle away. “Mitch…” she laughed but couldn’t escape.

“Oh no, my beautiful woman. You want compliments on things you’ve done for me? I’ll give you compliments!” And he lowered his head, kissing her neck. “I love the way you hold onto me when you climax in my arms,” he told her and his voice got all sexy and husky again. “I love the way you shiver when I touch you like this,” he whispered
in her ear even while his hand moved underneath her tee-shirt, cradling her breast. His thumb rubbed against the hard, sensitive peak and he smiled as his mouth nibbled on her collarbone. “And I love the way you make that sound when I…” his thumb pinched the hard nubbin and she arched her back, a deep sound coming from the back of her throat. “Yep. That’s the sound,” he told her with another
soft laugh.

“You have to stop,” she whispered, already so turned on she could barely think straight. But that was nothing new, she thought. It had been like this from the first. She’d never been very rational where he was concerned. She grabbed his hands and pulled them away from her body, forcing him to look at her. “You hurt me,” she told him. “You belittled everything I am and all that
I’d hoped was between us with your assumptions.”

“I know,” he said and sat up, lifting her with him so she was once again sitting on his lap. “And I promise to make it up to you.”

She sighed and leaned against him once more. “How?” she asked.

He slid his hand up her jeans-clad thigh, his mind racing to try and figure out what she might want in return for the pain and humiliation he’d caused
her. “How about exclusive rights to my body for…” he contemplated the ceiling for a moment, “life?” he offered.

Adriana laughed and shook her head. “Not good enough,” she teased.

There was stunned silence for a long moment before he saw the teasing glint in her eyes. With a growl, he stood up with her in his arms, then tossed her over his shoulder. “You’re definitely going to pay for that,”
he told her and spanked her adorable bottom again.

Adriana was laughing so hard by this point she couldn’t get the hair out of her eyes to try and figure out what he was doing or where he was going. “Stop,” she laughed out, trying to catch her breath but the laughter was just too intense.

“Not a chance,” he told her as his long strides continued to carry her out of her father’s office. “You’re
in trouble, little lady.”

Adriana was still laughing when she looked up and caught sight of her mother and father. “Mitch!” she called out with a gasp, then pulled her hands away since they were holding onto his very firm butt which she now knew was most likely covered with black boxer briefs.

“Dad!” she said, trying to get Mitch’s attention and regain some of her dignity even while her mother
and father looked down at her with surprised expressions. “This isn’t what it looks like,” she said, then grabbed onto his back again because Mitch swung around, finally noticing that they were no longer alone.

“Mr. Alfieri,” Mitch said, extending his free hand to shake his future father-in-law. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Mitch Powell,” he explained. Turning to Adriana’s mother, he said,
“You must be Jemma Alfieri and it is great to meet you as well.” He hefted Adriana on his shoulder more firmly. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor,” he asked.

Jemma looked at her daughter, or what she could see of Adriana with the blond hair going every which way. “Um…yes, I suppose,” she replied carefully, not sure if her daughter was on board with this man or if she should be doing
something to stop the large man from kidnapping her daughter.

Mitch pulled out a ring and handed it to Jemma. “Would you put this on her finger?” Mitch swung around so that Adriana’s head was facing her mother.

Adriana pushed the hair out of her eyes and looked at her parents. “I’m fine,” she whispered, then extended her hand so that her mother could slip the ring on her finger. “He doesn’t
really do things in a traditional way,” she explained, her voice in a stage whisper.

“Obviously,” her father said, his eyes not truly understanding but not willing to stop the man since his daughter was once again smiling. After days of crying and red eyes, the bright, happy smile was a relief and he didn’t want to do anything to spoil it.

Adriana looked down at the beautiful diamond solitaire.
“Mitch, it’s lovely,” she sighed, her finger rubbing the lovely stone. “Thank you.”

Mitch’s response was to spin her around again, nod to her parents, then spin once more as he carried her out of the house. “Sorry to rush out, but your daughter and I aren’t finished fighting. We’re going to have this out where we won’t disturb you.”

Jemma and Damien watched with bemused expressions as her
daughter bopped away on the man’s shoulder. The very man she’d professed to despise only hours ago. But the smile was still there.

“You’re not going to let him get away with that, are you?” Dylan, their oldest son demanded as he walked into the house from the back, watching as his only sister disappeared over some guy’s shoulder.

Jemma and Damien turned at the same time, looking at their
son with amusement. “It appears that Adriana might actually provide us with a grandchild sooner rather than later. And since your plan is much, much later, no, we’re not doing anything that might slow down getting a grandchild.”

Dylan scowled as the front door closed and a giggle wafted on the air back to them. “Kids are not in my immediate plan, but that’s not the way to treat my sister,”
he said with rising anger.

Damien looked down at Jemma and shrugged. “He’ll learn,” he said. Jemma immediately started backing away, knowing what that look in her husband’s eye meant. “Don’t you dare!” she commanded. But her wonderful, irritating and adorable husband had rarely listened to her when she used that tone of voice. Especially when it came to…she raced away from him, shrieking
with laughter when he simply caught her and tossed her over his shoulder himself.

Dylan looked at his disappearing parents with shock and not a small amount of affection. He thought about the woman he’d been with the previous night but couldn’t imagine tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her away. No, when he met a woman he wanted to share his life with, she was definitely going to have
to be the fun loving, unreserved and affectionate type that wouldn’t mind being toted through the house over his shoulder. Yep, he definitely needed someone free spirited, open minded and up for just about anything in life. And he wouldn’t settle for anything less.

He needed gills. Lungs just weren’t going to cut it in this humidity.

New Orleans might be one of the most beautiful cities he’d ever visited, but Dylan Alfieri was already regretting starting this particular project during the summer months. He should have adjusted the schedule to start it in January or February.

Dylan rang
the doorbell of the elegant mansion, thinking that the house had probably been built before the Civil War. “Good evening, Mr. Alfieri,” a dignified butler said as he opened the door. “Mr. Charding is waiting for you in the parlor.” The cool air from the home encircled his body like a gentle welcoming breeze, made even more refreshing in comparison to the night time humidity that never seemed
to leave this city.

Dylan almost laughed as the white haired servant bowed slightly, an elegant, old-fashioned gesture that somehow seemed right here in the south. The reference to the parlor also fit. Dylan was buying up several of the abandoned warehouses that Philip Charding owned. This dinner was simply a social way of concluding the business arrangement. Dylan wished he could avoid
these sorts of social niceties. He would much rather be in his office going through the data for his next project, confirming the numbers on his current enterprises or even just sitting in his hotel suite, relaxing with a good, stiff scotch.

But the social niceties must be observed. Soothing any hurt feelings was just as important for future business ventures as having enough cash to get the
job accomplished. This project in New Orleans wasn’t going to be one of the largest neighborhoods Alfieri Properties had done, but if he worked this correctly, it could be one of the more profitable projects. At only thirty-five years old, Dylan had created an extremely large empire already. He specialized in buying up abandoned tracts of land and building new neighborhoods that brought jobs
and great living environments to aging cities. He loved to see areas that had once been riddled by crime and gangs turn into thriving communities again. He not only built the homes for families to live in, he also built the stores that would support those neighborhoods. His company worked with the municipal governments to ensure that schools and libraries were also built to support the new communities.

Dylan followed the butler into the large elegant room that obviously needed a great many repairs. Dylan suspected that the house was about two hundred years old. Despite the obvious wear, he liked the house. It felt lived in and comfortable. Many of his acquaintances considered their homes to be a showcase, and this approach translated into the house feeling like a museum. Not this one.
He could feel the vitality of the house, could sense the history and the generations that had grown up here and worn down the wood floors.

Stepping through the door the butler had led him to and was holding open, Dylan looked around at the tall windows and extra high ceilings, impressed with the “bones” of the old-style mansion. “Good evening, Philip,” Dylan said, walking briskly over to the
older man who was sitting by the window in one of a group of winged back chairs that had definitely seen better days. “You have a lovely house.”

Philip took Dylan’s hand and chuckled, waving his cigar to indicate Dylan should take a seat in the other chair. “It’s a pain in my ass,” the man replied abruptly. “It’s old and needs about a million dollars in repairs,” he grumbled. “Bourbon?”

“Thank
you,” Dylan replied. He actually hated bourbon but he didn’t want to be rude, so he would take the foul stuff and pretend to enjoy it.

Philip laughed again, a sound that was starting to grate on Dylan. “Bring the man a scotch,” Philip said to the butler who was already standing by a liquor table.

Dylan was startled by the older man’s perceptiveness. He actually did prefer scotch but was
trying to be polite. “How did you know?” Dylan asked, his eyes narrowed as he sat back in the leather chair.

Philip puffed on his cigar, leaning back in the wingback chair with a mischievous look to his old, blue eyes. “I read people, young man,” he explained. “I didn’t used to be this old and cantankerous. In my younger days, I was quite a shark.”

Dylan smiled slightly as he received the
glass from the butler. It was true. The man had been feared. Phillip had taken over Charding Industries from his father and had grown the business into a respectable empire. Not nearly as large as what Dylan now controlled, but it had been large back in the day. “About the sale,” Dylan started off.

Philip waved his cigar again. “All in due time,” he said, dismissing the subject for the moment.
“You’re going to offer ten percent more than discussed earlier today when tonight’s dinner is over.”

Dylan almost laughed at the outrageous assertion, but he was also impressed despite himself. Did the older man have some information that Dylan would need? Or was he just losing his mind? Either was possible, he thought. “Doubtful, but I’m intrigued. Why would I offer you more than the agreed
upon amount for the land?”

Philip chuckled and puffed again. “Because I have something even more important than my company,” he said mysteriously.

Dylan’s eyebrows went up. “And that would be…?”

Philip considered his words carefully. “You’re down here buying the Charding warehouses by the river, correct?”

Dylan waved his glass of scotch, neither confirming nor denying the statement.

“But buying me out will only give you half of what you need.”

“What’s the other half?” Dylan already knew what he considered the other half, but he wasn’t going to give away his strategy.

“You need the land on both sides of the river. Wouldn’t do to have lovely homes looking out onto the mighty Mississippi, only to see empty warehouses on the other side. And you can only get that land by buying
up one of three companies. Either Inus Corporation, which is probably too expensive for you right now, or Demisis, which isn’t for sale nor will it ever be. Acton might be easier for you to acquire, but it is probably too small.”

Dylan intended to acquire all three of those companies, but there was no need to tell this man that. “Which do you think will suit my purposes the best?” he asked.

Philip’s eyes narrowed. “You probably need all three,” he said, knowing the answer. “But you can’t get them. You won’t even get one of them without my help.”

Dylan almost laughed out loud but held back, not wanting to offend this man. That in itself was unusual – he generally didn’t care who he offended. Business was business. Feelings had no place in the work place.

“What can you offer
me to help me achieve the goals you think I’ve set for myself?” He didn’t mention that he was already in discussions with Demisis for the land on the other side of the river. No need to knock the man down when he felt he was on a roll.

There was a knock on the door and Dylan saw the moment of triumph in the older man’s eyes. “This is what I can give you,” he said in a lower voice. “Come
in, Georgette!” the man called out.

Dylan turned and saw the doors to the parlor open. When the auburn haired beauty stepped through those doors, Dylan felt like he’d been beaten. He’d never lost a battle! But this woman seemed to bewitch him immediately with her sultry smile, flawless pale skin and her fascinating hazel eyes.

He didn’t realize he’d stood, the gesture automatic as the goddess
approached. She walked towards him with a slight smile on her full, pink lips and a strange gleam in those hazel eyes. His own eyes traveled down her figure, stopping to admire her full breasts that pushed against the simple, black sheath dress. His gaze continued lower, wondering if her waist was really that small or if she wore one of those crazy contraptions women sometimes wiggled into
that could make their figures look more slender. As his eyes took in her full hips, he knew that she was all woman. Not fat, not skinny but just soft and full and…lush. He couldn’t see her legs because the dress went below her knees, almost to the middle of her calves. But he noticed she had slender ankles and wore those pointed shoes that were supposed to make a woman’s legs look longer.
They worked! Damn, he suspected she had incredible legs! Legs he wanted to get to know, intimately.

She’d stopped in the middle of the room, her body still while his eyes traveled back up her luscious figure. When his brown eyes collided with her hazel ones, he knew he’d infuriated the beauty with his blatant perusal. He could see the anger in those gorgeous eyes and his body was quick to
respond. Possibly not in the way she wanted, but he suddenly realized he had very little control over his body right at this moment.

Georgette stopped several feet away from the man and her grandfather, her head tilting backwards and her chin jutting forward slightly, trying to appear confident when every cell in her body was quivering with…something. She couldn’t believe the insulting visual
examination the man had just performed! She wanted to turn around and walk out of the parlor or perhaps even walk right up to him and kick him in the shin. But good manners had been drilled into her all her life. Her grandmother and mother, both elegant women themselves, would never be caught dead either running away or kicking. Her only recourse was to stand very still, hoping that the he
would be dropped through some trap door or swallowed by a highly localized earthquake! That would eliminate that look of confidence on his strangely handsome face and, hopefully, obliterate this rude man from the face of the earth!

Luck was not on her side tonight, however. The man continued to stare at her as if she were a chocolate bar and he was ready to devour her. She hated the heat
that suffused her body with his dark, intimidating look, wishing she could remain aloof and reserved.

Since the tall, imposing and rude man was not ceasing his insulting survey of her person, she decided that ignoring him was her best course of action. Turning to her grandfather, she smiled gently at the beloved man. “Hello, Grandpapa. How are you tonight?” she asked, stepping around the
man and his irritatingly broad shoulders.

Dylan had thought the woman was the image of beauty and perfection even before she spoke. But the lilting, southern drawl of her words sent a wave of pleasure through his body so intense, he couldn’t breathe for a long moment. He just stood there, absorbing her words, tossing her accent around in his mind. Instead of pronouncing each syllable, she
said the words like a song. One syllable words turned into two or three while some of the vowels or consonants rolled together, floating off her lips, hitting him with a wave of lust so strong, he thought he might actually pick her up and carry her off, just so he could listen to her speak in private.

Philip chuckled, his eyes dancing with merriment as he stepped up to greet her. “Georgette,
you look lovely, as always.”

Georgette bent and kissed his wrinkled cheek, then stood back, her eyes latching onto the cigar in his hand. “I thought the doctor said you weren’t supposed to smoke anymore.”

Philip grunted and looked at his cigar, then back up at his granddaughter hopefully. “How about if we keep this our little secret?” he suggested.

Georgette shook her head and plucked the
cigar out of his hands, mashing the end in the ash tray until it was extinguished. “Not going to happen, Grandpapa.” She looked at the man’s other hand. “And bourbon?” she asked with exasperation. The man was a legend in business, but he wasn’t the kindest to his body. He broke every rule, including some she wished she didn’t know about.

Philip was drawing the line there. “Don’t even try
it, missy,” he warned with good humor but a tone that conveyed he was not going to relinquish the glass of alcohol under any circumstances.

Georgette laughed, the sound sending a thrill of something base, something elemental, throughout Dylan’s body and ending right in his groin. The sound was soft and husky, not at all girly although everything else about this woman was pure female. He’d
bet his entire net worth that the woman even painted her toenails. Pink, he guessed. Then looked at her full hips and mentally shook his head. Red. Definitely red. And then his mind was instantly picturing what she would look like in just those sexy black heels and hidden, red-painted toenails. Nothing else but her smile. Damn! He’d never realized how good his imagination could be.

Georgette slowly moved over to the liquor table and, to Dylan’s astonishment and amusement, she poured herself a strong glass of scotch. “If you can’t stop em,” she said with a twinkle in her eye for her grandfather, “then I gotta join ‘em, right?” And she took a long sip of the amber liquid, glancing surreptitiously at Dylan over the rim of her glass.

“Where are Mother and Grandmamma tonight?”
she asked, moving closer once again. One hand gently waved towards the chairs, giving the signal that both men were now allowed to sit. She waited for a fraction of a second, then sat herself in a chair the butler had magically placed behind her. Dylan watched the movement, entranced by the way her body almost slid down onto the edge of the chair. Her back was ramrod straight, her knees angled
demurely to the side, and her legs crossed only at the ankles.

She was the epitome of elegance, wrapped up in a sensual, sexy package. If she only knew the erotic fantasies her grace and figure were conjuring up in his mind, she would probably slap him. And he would deserve it.

Georgette practically forgot she had asked her grandfather a question. Her whole focus was on the man, trying
to ignore what she knew was an inappropriate stare. And that smile was really making her angry! What was he thinking? Why couldn’t he stop staring at her? Didn’t he know the rules of society? He should be looking at her grandfather who was speaking. People of her acquaintance might not listen, but they at least created the pretense that they were interested in what was being discussed.

Philip watched his beloved granddaughter try and ignore his guest. A more obvious sign that she was interested, he’d never seen. Well, perhaps not interested, but Dylan Alfieri riled her. And in his mind, that was a far more positive reaction than the bored politeness his granddaughter had shown all the other men who had come through her life recently. Including that dullard, Charles, that kept
sniffing around her. A positive sign indeed. Because he had plans! Big plans! He had to just get rid of the idiot she called a boyfriend and he knew she would be much happier with Dylan Alfieri. The fact that she was intensely aware of his presence was proof that the two would spark fire off of each other.