Page 35 of A Lone Star Love Affair
“Let me dress. I have to now,” she gasped, the words barely audible as her pleasure heightened and her resolve wavered.
“We’ll make love, Isabelle. You want to far too badly to keep saying no.”
“I want marriage, Tony. You don’t. It’s that simple. You want to make your billion dollars.” She lashed out in the only way she knew would stop both of them.
He stilled and she moved away, gathering her clothes, pulling them on hastily.
He yanked on his clothes swiftly, taking her hand as soon as she was dressed.
She looked up in surprise, thinking he would want her to say good-night.
“Stay and talk. You’re good company.”
“Always invitations from you that I know I should refuse. Instead, I accept. Talking is almost as dangerous as kissing.”
“Not quite,” he said, giving her a crooked smile. “Talk is nothing. I talk with Myrtle at great length because she’s good company, but that doesn’t make it a dangerous pastime.”
Isabelle had to laugh. Myrtle Wrightman was the oldest Morris employee, hired by another generation of Morrises. She was an accountant and still sharp and witty and she enjoyed her job.
“That’s better,” Tony said, smiling at Isabelle. “I like to hear you laugh.”
“I’m glad you’ve found Myrtle and you like her. You do intend to keep her, don’t you?”
“Certainly. She’s an icon. She does a good job from what I’ve seen. I wouldn’t think of letting her go. Actually, I recommended she get a raise because she hasn’t had one in a while.”
“I should have qualified my statement and said ‘talking to you is almost as dangerous as kissing,’” Isabelle said, sitting in a corner of the sofa, seeing another side of Tony that earned more of her respect for him.
“Want something else? There’s a fridge in this suite and it’s stocked with drinks and snacks. How about popcorn and cocoa and I’ll toss another log on the fire. You don’t have to be anywhere in particular in the morning.”
“Sounds good, Tony. Let me help.”
She followed him to the tiny kitchen and in a short time they sat in front of the fire with popcorn and mugs of steaming hot chocolate while they talked.
As they went from topic to topic without mentioning business, the fire burned to smoldering embers. Finally Isabelle stood. “I have to go. The sun will be coming up in a few hours.”
He stood, draping an arm across her shoulders. “I’ll see you to your suite—or you can stay here. Either bedroom.”
She smiled at him. “I better go to my own suite.”
As they headed to her room, he said, “I’ll meet you for breakfast unless you want to swim first with me.”
“I’ll meet you for breakfast,” she said, remembering the hot, sexy moments in the pool.
“Great. And after, I’ll give you the deluxe tour of San Diego, although I can think of more fun things to show you.”
“San Diego is what I really want to see.”
At her door, she turned to him. “Thanks, Tony, for a fun evening. I have to admit, I’m glad you flew out here.”
“Ah, that makes it all worthwhile,” he said. He slid his arm around her waist and kissed her. She put her arms around his waist to return a kiss that soon became kisses until she finally stopped.
“It has to be good-night now,” she said, breathless, once again on fire with wanting him as if they hadn’t spent the past hours together.
“Night, Isabelle,” he said in a raspy, husky voice that was seductive. She reminded herself that saying no to Tony was the right decision for her future.
Telling herself to hold to that, she went inside and closed the door, listening to the lock click in place. She had left on lights and in minutes she switched them off and climbed into bed to think about Tony, wanting him, wondering if they were headed for a disaster. Tonight had carried them deeper and closer to an affair. For one brief moment she gave it consideration. Would it interfere so deeply with her goal of marriage? She was still young enough to not have to rush into marriage. She wondered whether she was fooling herself with that argument. Tony was more desirable than any man she had ever known. Would a brief affair be so disastrous?
“Yes, it would,” she said aloud. “Get more backbone, Isabelle,” she added. For giant reasons, her employer, a man set against marriage, a workaholic, would combine to make an affair a catastrophe. It would be a broken heart for her.
