Much More Than a Mistress (12 page)

“That means no more following me to dinners with my family.”

He opened his mouth to deny it, and she held up a hand to shush him. “Don't insult my intelligence. That was a little too coincidental. And trust me when I say that getting to know my family is a headache that you don't want. If they think we're dating, and they find out who
you are, once they get past the shock of someone like you dating someone like me, they're going to be planning our wedding.”

“What do you mean, someone like me dating someone like you? Do you really think I'm that shallow?”

“Isn't that what you like people to think?”

She had him there. It was just easier that way. And hell, maybe he was a little shallow.

“I'll stay away from your family,” he said.

“Thank you.”

His stomach rumbled loudly, and Jane grinned. “Hungry?”

“I skipped dinner.”

“The truth is, I didn't do much more than pick at mine. Being with my family has a way of killing my appetite.”

“We could order in.”

“And eat naked in bed? I've always wanted to do that.”

Her honest enthusiasm made him smile. “Anywhere you want.”

And when they were finished eating, he was going to spend the rest of the evening making love to her.

D
espite being up half the night making love, Jane woke at her usual six-thirty the next morning—with a very naked, very warm, and very aroused male form curled up behind her.

Tempted as she was to roll over and wake Jordan in a very pleasurable way—of which she could imagine several—this would be the perfect opportunity to do some snooping. Other than the living area and his bedroom, she hadn't seen much of the apartment. The one room she was most interested in finding was his office.

Her heart thumping with adrenaline, she slipped out of bed. Jordan mumbled in his sleep and rolled onto his back. Her clothes were still in a pile by the front door, so she tiptoed across the cool wood floor to his closet to look for something to wear. It was pitch-black, so she stepped inside and switched on the light, and when she saw her
reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror across the room she actually gasped.

Her hair was a tangled mess, the mineral foundation had completely worn off, leaving her horrible freckles exposed, and what little was left of her eyeliner and mascara was smeared below her eyes. Thank God she'd woken before Jordan. If he had seen her like this, for who she really was—boring Plain Jane—he wouldn't be so eager to continue their affair.

She grabbed a button-down shirt off a hanger and slipped it on, then she switched off the light and peeked out into the bedroom. Jordan was still sound asleep. She crept back to the bed where she'd left her purse and snatched it up off the floor. Thank goodness she kept her makeup with her at all times. She made her way quietly to the bathroom and stepped inside, leaving the door open just a crack, so the snap of it closing didn't wake him.

She switched on the light and dug through her purse for her hairbrush, using it to tug the tangles from her hair, which of course left it limp and lifeless. She flipped her head over and gave it a firm brushing in the hopes that she could beat at least a little bit of body into it. Then she fluffed it into place. Not great, but not awful either. But she really had to do something with her face.

She found a rag and a hand towel in the closet and began to scrub off the remnants of last night's makeup.
One should always begin with a clean canvas,
the makeup artist had told her. She dried off and scowled at her reflection. A couple of weeks ago she wouldn't have thought twice about going to work this way, but now she could barely stand the sight of her naked face.

She pulled her makeup bag out and fished through it for her mineral foundation and applicator brush. She opened
the jar and dipped the brush in, tapping the excess off, then raised it to her cheek—

“Good morning.”

She jerked in surprise at the sound of Jordan's voice and the brush slipped from her fingers. It dropped to the granite countertop, leaving a poof of mineral powder, then bounced over the side, hit the toilet seat and rolled into the bowl with a soft sploosh.

Crap.
What was she supposed to do now?

“What are you doing?” Jordan asked, leaning in the doorway looking rumpled and sexy, wearing nothing but silk boxers and a smile.

She cupped her hands over her naked face, since there wasn't much else she could do. “Could I have a minute, please?”

He looked at the brush in the toilet, then the makeup bag. “Are you putting on makeup?”

“Yes,” she mumbled through her fingers.

“It's six-forty on a Saturday morning.”

“I know what time it is.”

“So come back to bed.”

“Just let me fix my face.”

“Why?”

“Take my word, you don't want to see me this way.”

His expression went from amused to puzzled. “You're serious.”

“Very. So please, get lost and let me finish.”

He folded his arms over that ridiculously toned chest. “No.”

“I'm not kidding, Jordan, leave.”

“You've piqued my interest. Now I
have
to see.”

He was blocking the doorway so running wasn't an option, and he outweighed her by at least sixty pounds, the
majority of it muscle, so forcing her way past him wasn't going to work either.

“Jordan,
please,
” she said, feeling desperate.

“I'm not leaving,” he said, “so you may as well drop your hands.”

This was it, she thought. The end of her career at the agency. He was going to see how she really looked and realize the woman he'd been having an affair with was a fraud.

Feeling resigned and defeated, she dropped her hands to her sides. Jordan's eyes searched her face and she steeled herself for the look of disappointment. The indignation of a man who was known for dating supermodels and beauty queens realizing that he'd been tricked into bed with Plain Jane Monroe.

Instead, a grin curled his mouth and he said, “You have freckles.”

Her hands flew back up to cover her face, and mortified, she turned away from him. “I hate them.”

“That wasn't an insult,” he said with a laugh. “I think they're adorable.”

“They're awful.
I
look awful.”

“What are you talking about? You're beautiful, Jane.”

“You don't have to lie to me to save my feelings. I know what I look like.”

He stepped behind her and wrapped his hands around her wrists, forcing her to face the mirror, then he tugged her hands away from her face and held them at her sides. She averted her eyes, but he said, “Look at yourself.”

Reluctantly she gazed at her reflection.

“Tell me what you see.”

“Nobody. Without the makeup I'm so plain, so boring, I might as well not exist.”

“Is that what you really think, or is that your family talking?”

Not just her family. Everyone.

“It isn't makeup that makes a person beautiful, Jane. It's what's on the inside.” He let go of her wrists and turned her to face him. “And you are the sweetest, most passionate, and most
beautiful
woman I have ever met.” He laid his hand on her chest. “Because of what's in here.”

Did he really see her that way? Did he really appreciate her for who she was on the inside?

“In school they called me Plain Jane.”

“Shame on you for believing them.”

She smiled and laid her head against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. She may not have been completely honest with him, but one thing that she told him she meant with all her heart. She could love him. In fact, maybe she already did a little. And it had nothing to do with his wealth and power. In fact, she wanted him in spite of those things. He made her feel good about herself. No one had ever done that before.

“I know how tough it can be, ignoring the hurtful things people say,” he said.

“What could anyone say to you that you couldn't refute by looking in a mirror?”

“I want to show you something,” he said. He took her hand and led her out of the bedroom and into the next room. He switched on the light and her heart picked up speed when she realized they were in his office. It was the size of the entire living space of her apartment and decorated in rich colors and dark polished wood. Very masculine and surprisingly homey. And considering the clutter, he clearly spent a lot of time there.

If she was going to find anything incriminating, this is where it would be. Or where she would find proof to
exonerate him. Because really, that was what she wanted now. She didn't believe for an instant that he was capable of putting anyone's life in danger, much less a whole group of people. He just wasn't that kind of man.

She glanced around the room, taking a mental photo for future reference. Getting the job done might require getting in and out quickly.

She knew that when he found out who she really was he would be furious, and he would probably never forgive her for betraying him, or be able to trust her, but she would at least be able to live with herself knowing that she had helped clear his name.

He pulled a framed eight-by-ten photo off the bookshelf and handed it to her. “It's the ninth grade science fair winners. Guess which one is me.”

There were five winners, none of whose faces she could see very clearly. One was a girl, whom she could eliminate because if Jordan had once been a female, Jane would have heard about it by now. That left four boys, who all wore glasses. But one had black hair, so he was out too. The final three had lighter hair and ranged from tall for their age to downright puny. The one in the middle looked pretty average, but with the potential to be cute as an adult, and he'd won first place. She pointed to him. “This one.”

“Wrong,” Jordan said. “I'm the geek midget who came in third.”

Wow. She knew he'd been small for his age, but she never imagined he was
that
small. And yes, he looked pretty geeky, but who didn't at that age? “This is ninth grade,” she said. “Everyone goes through an awkward stage.”

“Except I looked like that until I was eighteen. Not to mention that I was painfully shy and withdrawn. Which my father thought he could cure by
toughening
me up.”

“Toughening you up how?”

“Calling me a sissy, pushing me around. Basically bullying me. And who knows, maybe it would have worked if Nathan hadn't always stepped in to defend me. Even if I had wanted to stand up for myself, he never let me. He would get between me and my dad, get in his face, and it inevitably got physical. Which made me feel guilty.”

“Physical?”

“Shoving, punching, backhanding. I can't even tell you how many times Nathan and I got cracked across the mouth when we were kids. My old man was a real bastard back then.”

“Where was your mother when this was happening?”

He shrugged. “Somewhere else. She was never much of a mother. It took me years to figure out that her ignoring me was nothing that I'd done. She's just selfish and cold. Well, up until Tuesday anyway. The stroke changed her. But for all I know, once she recovers, she may go back to being her old self.”

“It makes my family seem not so bad,” she said. “And I have a really hard time trying to imagine you as shy.”

“I changed in college. My first year I grew nine inches, and since tall and scrawny was even worse than short and scrawny, I started working out. Girls actually started to notice me, and ask
me
out. It boosted my confidence and drew me out of my shell. I swore I would never be that awkward, insecure kid again.”

She handed the photo back to him. “I guess the difference is, I never came out of my shell. At least, not until recently. I never figured out how to be confident. No one ever took me seriously. They still don't.”

He set the photo back on the shelf. “But you left the family practice, that took guts.”

She wished she could tell him about working at Edwin
Associates, how she had followed her dream. She didn't like that he thought she was nothing more than an office temp, that she was wasting her potential.

“I don't plan to be an office temp forever,” she told him. “I'm going to do something big.”

“I don't doubt it.” He slipped his arms around her, under the shirt, drawing her against him so they were skin to skin. He was so big and warm and strong. She laid her head against his chest, hugging herself close.

“Did I mention how sexy you look wearing my shirt?” he asked. He eased it back off her shoulders, pressing kisses to her neck, and she started to get that electric, tingly-all-over feeling. He slid his hand down to cup her behind, drawing her against him and she could feel that he was getting aroused too.

“I have an idea,” he said. “I have to go into work for a while to catch up on a few things, but I don't have to be to there for a couple hours. Why don't we go back to bed for a while?”

That sounded perfect to her. She took his hand and led him back to the bedroom. They would make love, and then afterward, while he got ready for work, she would start searching his office. She wouldn't feel guilty either, because she wasn't trying to find evidence of his guilt. She was going to find the source of the two hundred thousand dollar deposit, and to whom he had wired the thirty thousand dollar payment. Because she was sure there was a reasonable explanation.

She knew deep in her heart that Jordan hadn't done anything wrong, and she was going to prove it.

 

Jordan sat at his desk later that morning, and though he was supposed to be working, he couldn't keep his mind off Jane. She was really getting under his skin. So much
so that when he dropped her at home on his way to work, he told her he wanted to see her again that evening. They made plans to get together at his place again. He would pick her up at five and they would order in dinner and watch a movie—if he could manage to keep his hands off her for longer that ten minutes.

He tried to recall the last time he'd been so into a woman that he'd wanted to see her two nights in a row. It had been so long ago that he couldn't even remember. Nathan had lectured him about finding the right woman, and how, when he had met Ana, he just
knew.
Of course Jordan had scoffed at the idea. He told Nathan that there were so many “right women” he wouldn't know which one to choose. But after spending time with Jane, getting to know her, the idea of being with anyone else just felt…wrong.

He used to think that if he ever did decide it was time to settle down, it would take months and months for the relationship to develop. But when he kissed Jane for the first time, it felt as if something significant had happened, as though a critical part of him that he hadn't even realized was missing had shifted into place.

He shook his head and laughed at himself. A week ago if someone had even suggested such a thing were possible he would have called them crazy. And the fact that she was deceiving him and he still felt this way defied logic. But when was love ever logical? Or easy?