The Tycoon's Virgin Bride. Sandra Field
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was being overly sensitive to innuendo.
He said, “I have to say goodbye to the organizers of the lecture…do you mind waiting for a few minutes?”
“I’ll sharpen my pencils,” she said demurely.
He laughed, his white teeth flashing, his whole face alive with a masculine energy that shuddered along her nerves. “I’ll be as quick as I can,” he said, and strode across the room toward a couple of tweed-jacketed professors.
Jenessa tossed back the last of her glass of wine. She’d suggest they go to a restaurant for coffee, or to a bar, where there’d be other people. She’d be quite safe.
She didn’t feel safe. She could recall every detail of Bryce’s face: the dark flecks in his irises, the determination in his jaw, the sensuality of his strongly carved mouth. He was a big man, towering over her, making her feel small and feminine. Oh, God, she thought helplessly, what was going on?
Then Bryce crossed the room toward her, and in a rush of adrenaline she knew she should have run for her life. Safe? Anywhere in his vicinity? Nothing about him was remotely safe. She was way out of her league.
But Jenessa, only a few months ago, had run away from home, obeying every instinct of body and soul that had urged her to forge her own destiny. Why should she play it safe now? Art was about risks, and how could she take risks on a square of canvas if she never took them in her personal life? Doing her best to look cool and sophisticated, she asked, “Are you ready?”
“I have a rented car outside. Let’s go.”
She glanced down at her attire. “You don’t care if they see you leaving with me?”
He raised his brows. “I don’t live by anyone else’s rules—maybe you should know that about me.” He took her by the elbow, the warmth of his fingers on her bare skin sending ripples of heat through her body.
“Where are we going?” she faltered. “A bar would be fine, providing it’s not too dark for me to see what I’m doing.”
“Oh,” he said deliberately, “I thought we’d go to my hotel. That way we won’t be disturbed.”
“I want to sketch you—that’s all!”
“Is it? Is it really, Jan Struthers?”
They’d left the auditorium; the corridor was deserted. Lifting his hand, Bryce traced the softness of her lips with tantalizing slowness, his fingers lingering on the silky skin of her cheek. As her eyes widened, every nerve in her body sprang to life. She swayed toward him, her heart pounding in her breast. He said softly, “Underneath all that war paint, you’re quite astonishingly beautiful.”
He meant it, she realized dazedly. And already this had gone far beyond flirting. He wanted her. He, Bryce Laribee, self-made millionaire, wanted her, Jenessa Strathern, seventeen-year-old virgin.
Run for your life, Jenessa.
He was pressing the elevator button for the car park. She gasped, “I left my sketch pad at the studio by mistake. I—”
He laughed. “It was a novel approach, I must admit.”
So all along he’d thought she was lying about her desire to sketch him…how dare he? Dragging her attention back to what he was saying, she tried to focus. “So tell me about yourself, Jan—what brought you to Columbia? It’s a fine school, so you must be talented. Should I be looking out for your name in a few years?”
He’d look a long time because her name was false. With a passion that surprised her, Jenessa said, “I don’t want to follow the latest trend—which is always in reaction to the trend before it. I’m not using the word fad, but it might well apply. I want to paint what’s true to me. Follow my instincts, my gut. No matter if it’s unfashionable and doesn’t fly.” Abruptly she fell silent, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.
“Interesting,” he said. “Do you run your love life on the same principles?”
She had no love life. Had never really contemplated the possibility before this fraught meeting with her brother’s best friend.
Bryce was standing altogether too close to her in the elevator, and like a shock of cold water she wondered if all along she’d been deceiving herself about her motives for meeting Bryce, out of simple ignorance of the forces that could ignite between a man and a woman. Had it been an artistic need? Or a sexual one? Or a blend of both? Her mouth dry, she blurted the truth. “I think I wanted you the minute I saw your photo on the poster.”
“I’m a very rich man,” he remarked.
With a shocked gasp Jenessa moved away from him, her back pressing into the wall. “I’m not after your money! I couldn’t care less about it.”
Narrow-eyed, he stared at her in silence for a full five seconds. “You mean that, don’t you?”
The elevator doors slid open. She stayed where she was. “Yes, I do.”
Bryce took her by the elbow, jamming his foot against the door. “You’d be surprised how many women look right through me and see nothing but my net worth.”
She wasn’t quite ready to surrender. “I’m not one of them.”
“Then I apologize.”
“Do you?” Jenessa flashed. “Really? Or are you just mouthing the words?”
“We’re holding up the elevator,” he said irritably. “This is a one-night stand, we’re not talking marriage for life. So what does it matter?”
A one-night stand. How cheap that sounded. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she flared. “I really did want to sketch you—it wasn’t a come-on.”
“Look, I’ve apologized.” He tugged her out of the elevator. “What more do you want?”
Anger had hardened his jawline; his energy, fierce and unyielding, called up a matching response in her from a place she refused to deny. “I don’t like being called a liar.”
“I’m taking your words at face value—that you’re not interested in my money. Isn’t that enough for you?”
“I guess it’ll have to be,” she retorted, her cheeks hot with temper.
With sudden impatience Bryce put his arms around her, pulled her to the length of his body and kissed her. His hunger, ruthless and imperious, wiped out her anger as if it had never been, replacing it with a surge of primitive passion that was utterly new to her. Drowning in it, she clung to him with all her strength. His hold tightened. Then she felt the first thrust of his tongue like the lick of fire. Instinctively molding her body to his, she opened to him; and in a rush of mingled amazement and pleasure realized that what he was demanding she was more than willing to give.
Abruptly Bryce released her, saying roughly, “The car’s just outside. Let’s go.”
Jenessa stumbled after him, knowing that in one brief kiss she’d learned more about the power of one man’s body over her own than she could have imagined. Enthralled. Swept off her feet. Bewitched. In a way that even ten minutes ago she couldn’t have anticipated.
Bryce ushered her into the passenger seat of a silver Mercedes, and without a word drove out of the lot. Soon he was navigating the noisy streets, weaving in and out of the traffic. As though there’d been no hiatus in their conversation, he said, “There’s something you should know about me. I fly to the west coast tomorrow and leave for Singapore the next day. I don’t do commitment and I always use protection.”
Something in his tone angered Jenessa profoundly. “Are you being purposely unromantic?”
“I’m telling you the way it is. If you don’t like it, it’s not too late to back out…I’ll buy you a drink and no hard feelings.”
Inadvertently he’d given her an excuse to escape from a situation that was