CINDERELLA & THE PLAYBOY, page 5
Suddenly the plane pitched to the left, tearing him from his thoughts. Instinctively his arms tightened around her.
The captain came on the speakers. "Sorry about this, Mr. Tanner. We're experiencing some unstable air. Should clear up in a few minutes."
And even as the captain spoke, the plane lifted and plummeted violently.
Abby pushed against him and sat bolt upright.
"What's happening?"
Her words were slurred slightly, but he could hear the panic in her voice. "Just a little turbulence. Nothing to worry about."
The plane jerked sideways, then again.
"Ohmigod," she said, her voice quavering. "We're going down."
"Look at me, Abby."
"What?"
"Look at me."
She did as he told her and, eyes wide, said, "It's something you couldn't know about me. I'm terribly afraid of flying. Actually, it's more that I'm terribly afraid of crashing."
Her voice was sluggish, her eyes glazed. Tanner looked at her closely. "Did you take something?"
She nodded. "My doctor told me to take it right before we took off."
Once again the plane lifted and fell.
Abby gasped and shut her eyes tight. "We're going down."
Tanner tightened his hold on her. "Everything's okay," he whispered softly, stroking her neck and back. "It'll stop soon. Just keep your eyes on me."
She was shaking, her fingers gripping his arms.
"Abby, nothing's going to happen to you as long as I'm here, all right?"
Slowly she opened her eyes and nodded tentatively. She kept her unfocused gaze locked on him. They remained like that for several seconds, and Tanner felt something pass between them. Something he didn't recognize and probably didn't want to acknowledge. After a moment the plane stilled, but Abby didn't break the connection.
"I'm not sure what to do now," she said.
She looked like a vulnerable kitten, ready to be comforted, ready to be kissed. And he could no more deny her than he could himself. He lowered his mouth to hers and gave her a gentle kiss.
He heard her breath catch, and he fought the urge to groan. She tasted sweet and hot, like honey, the way he'd imagined, and he wanted more. He wondered if she'd pull away, wouldn't blame her if she did. But instead she grabbed his collar and pulled him closer.
Temporary insanity reigned and he answered her call, capturing her mouth again and again in a rhythm of soft kisses. And when she parted her lips for him and he traced their soft fullness with his tongue, an intense agony of longing barreled through him.
"Tanner," she breathed against his mouth.
Something snapped, deep in his gut Maybe it was the desire in her voice, maybe she just felt too damn good, too damn right. And maybe it was the fact that she had taken something and wasn't thinking clearly.
He muttered an oath, maybe two, and released her. "You need to sleep."
And I need to get the hell away from you before I forget that this is a business trip.
She stared at him for a moment, her eyes turning from glazed passion to confusion. Then she dropped her gaze and nodded. "All right, Tanner." Grabbing her pillow, she turned away from him and settled against the window.
Tanner dragged his gaze away from her and opened his briefcase. Work. That was the best thing – the best distraction a man had. But if he got one ounce of work done, it'd be a miracle. He could still taste her, feel her mouth on his, and he wanted more.
He gripped the sides of his leather case. He wasn't going to have more. Sure, he'd gotten carried away for a minute. But he was no cad.
He mentally reviewed the myriad of reasons why he couldn't turn back to her and pull her into his arms: she was the marrying kind, he'd promised to restrict their contact to little more than hand-holding, and she was hopped up on some kind of sedative just so she could be here with him.
Knowing it was a bad idea, he glanced over at her again. She looked so soft and sweet with her small hand tucked under her cheek, but he'd felt the passion in her, the hunger.
He was acting like a fool. Experienced women with no ambitions for home and hearth were his thing. He didn't have time for helpless, innocent females.
He muttered an oath. With one damn exception, it seemed.
* * *
I'm never trusting doctors again, Abby vowed as she stared out the window of the limousine that was whisking them to the Swansons' home. With a little pharmaceutical assistance she'd become a relatively stress-free flyer that morning, so relaxed and unconcerned with the possibility of crashing to the ground in a ball of fire that she'd fallen asleep almost as soon as the plane had taken off.
Until the gut-shaking turbulence hit, of course.
And until she'd allowed Tanner to kiss her.
Allowed, hell. She'd wanted him to kiss her. And, in fact, right now more than anything she wished he would lean across the limousine's smooth leather seat, take her in his arms and kiss her silly and senseless for hours as the cool Minnesota breeze kicked up leaves and pelted them against the car.
Abby swallowed hard. She hadn't been so drugged that she couldn't recall the softness of his lips, the way he moved his mouth against hers, the way every inch of her tingled at his nearness and touch. But the kiss had been a momentary lapse in judgment on both their parts. For Tanner it clearly was. He'd been the first to pull away. And right now, after her spectacular appearance at the Swanson Sweets plant, being close to her again was probably the farthest thing from his mind.
And who could blame him? You just made an absolute fool of yourself.
Still groggy and a little sedated when they'd arrived at the candy factory some two hours earlier, Abby had pulled a "Lucy and Ethel" on the tour that Frank Swanson had set up for them. Only minutes into the visit, while walking through the chocolate area, Abby had tripped on some boxes and pitched forward into a tub of chocolate cream.
She felt her cheeks burn as she recalled how Tanner had helped her up, her hands, and the front of her sweater covered in the sweet-smelling confection. He'd emerged with one of his Versace suit sleeves coated with cream as they both stared at the impression she'd left in the chocolate. The only thing that salvaged her pride was when Mr. Swanson said sympathetically that things like that can happen from time to time around sweets. "You've heard of the call of the wild?" he'd said with a chuckle. "Well, this is the call of the chocolate."
Short and burly, with a salt-and-pepper beard, infectious smile and eyes like Santa Claus, a kinder, sweeter man than Frank Swanson simply didn't exist. And if she hadn't already promised that warehouse space to her students and the kids, she would've called a cab right then and there and gone straight back to the airport.
"Do you need another towel? You're still looking a little sticky."
Startled, Abby glanced up at Tanner. "No, thank you."
"You're sure?"
He'd removed his chocolate-stained jacket and washed his hands thoroughly. Sitting against the black leather seat, he looked spotless and in control, as always, but his expression was unreadable, and she couldn't tell if he was still angry at her or not. Odds were, he was.
"What I could use is one of those back scratchers for my whole body," she said, trying to muster a smile. "I think I'm allergic to sugar. On the outside, that is."
He gave her a dry smile over the top of his paper. "That's very funny, Abby."
She threw up her hands. "I'm sorry, okay? How many times do I have to say it?"
"I'll let you know."
She shifted in her seat. "This is really all your fault, Tanner."
He raised an amused brow. "And how would that be? I certainly didn't push you into that tub of chocolate cream."
"You forced me to come with you."
"Hardly forced." He shook his head and laughed. "Just try to keep out of trouble and vats of candy for the rest of the weekend."
She rolled her eyes. "I'll try to be more like the perfect corporate wife. A silent, simpering, doting, yes-woman."
Silence filled the affluent air of the limousine, and she wondered if she should apologize again. Oh, who cares? she thought. He doesn't like you, anyway. You've already blown it. That kiss was just a fluke.
Tanner glanced up from his paper, his eyes hooded like a hawk's. "We both know how far from that description you are, Abby. Besides, that's not the kind of wife I'd want, anyway."
Abby felt her brows rise. "What kind of wife do you want, then?"
Tanner hesitated, astonished by the words he'd just said, then dropped his gaze back to his paper. "Having none at all suits me fine," he muttered, hardly seeing the article on the fluctuation of the Euro he'd been trying to read for the past five minutes. Wife. What the hell had made him even say something like that – and to her?
He didn't lead women on. They knew what he wanted and didn't want. And after that kiss he and Abby had shared on the plane, the last thing he wanted to do was give her ideas that he was interested in a real marriage.
Damn, she aggravated him something fierce. She could've cost him Swanson Sweets with her antics today. But she hadn't. Instead she'd endeared Frank to her.
Tanner rubbed at the stubble on his chin. What Abby didn't know was that when she'd gone to the ladies' room to wash up, Frank had turned to Tanner and gone on and on about her. How he loved that she wasn't one of those silly women who couldn't get their hands a little dirty, how one of his own kids had taken a tumble into the chocolate – on purpose, of course – but Frank felt that her dip into the chocolate cream was the rite of passage of a true chocolate lover. And before Frank had left ahead of them in his own car, he'd warned Tanner not to let go of such a wonderful woman.
Tanner peered over the top of his paper at Abby. Why hadn't he told her what Frank had said? Why was he acting annoyed? Maybe because he was annoyed. Shoot, if he'd pulled something like that, fallen into a vat of candy, if he'd put one toe over the boundaries of propriety that he'd carved out for himself, he'd never be where he was.
But, amazingly, Abby's little antics charmed everyone around her. Her students, the workers at the Swanson Sweets plant, Frank – they liked her, and Tanner envied that. He could intimidate or coerce, but very few people liked him – very few people even knew him.
He couldn't help but smile as he watched her. Even with chocolate smudges marring her skin and clothing, she was beautiful and too damn sexy for her own good. She was looking out the window, enjoying the scenery, avoiding his gaze, no doubt. It was just as well, he mused, remembering their kiss. He was beginning to think that he'd done a stupid thing by choosing her – now that he couldn't stop noticing how her hips moved when she walked, hearing her laugh, remembering the feel of her mouth against his.
Don't let her go, son. Frank's words rang in his ears ominously. Don't let her go? Hell, Tanner cursed silently. He didn't even have her.
An image of Abby's mouth on his sauntered through his mind.
He cleared his throat and tried to ignore the current of desire running up and down and through him. She had a chocolate smudge on her neck. He saw her pulse speed up as if she knew he was watching – and wanted to taste the chocolate on her skin. Could he make two mistakes in one day?
Slowly he put down his paper and leaned toward her.
In that moment the limousine's glass divider slid down, deterring Tanner from what he was about to do.
"We're here, Mr. and Mrs. Tanner," the limo driver said, passing through black iron gates, crawling up a circular drive and slowing in front of a massive Tudor home.
Curiosity filled Abby as she stared out the window. The Swansons' home was spectacular, and she wondered how anyone got used to living in such a house. Probably as easily as getting used to being called Mrs. Tanner, she thought. Which wasn't easy at all; although, the sound of it was nice and made her stomach do flip-flops. But she knew C. K. Tanner's reputation well, and she'd also heard him loud and clear when he'd said that he didn't want a wife.
So what did it matter to her? She wouldn't marry a modern-day rogue like him, anyway. Great subject for a painting, but not for a soul mate.
Abby practically gasped when she stepped out of the limo and into a vision of autumn. Leaves in shades of rusts and yellows blanketed the expansive lawns and silvered concrete. A lovely, brisk wind picked up and she followed its path. Surrounded by trees, a pretty little lake was just visible in the distance. And, in front of her, under a deep-blue sky, stood the house. Ivy crawled up the walls of the gray stone mansion, bracketing the windows like a verdant picture frame.
Suddenly the massive door opened and Frank and a pretty, plump woman – who Abby could only assume was Mrs. Swanson – came down the steps to greet them, holding each other's hands, both smiling from ear to ear. They reminded Abby of her own parents, full of love and adolescent romance. Frank had told her that he and his wife had been married thirty-two years and still held hands under the table at dinner. Tanner had probably never even held someone's hand when crossing the street as a child.
A thread of anxiety ran through her. Could two people who were so much in love spot two others who barely knew each other?
As though he could feel her trepidation, Tanner placed an arm around her waist. Unconsciously she pressed against him, leaning into his strong, solid frame.
The woman reached out and took Abby's hand. "I'm Jan Swanson. Welcome to Minnesota. Can I call you Abby?"
Abby returned the smile. "Of course."
Jan patted her hand. "And you'll call me Jan." She looked up and at Tanner. "You must be Tanner."
He smiled at her. "It's nice to meet you, Jan. Thank you for having us."
"It's our pleasure," she said. "I wish I could have met you earlier, but Frank's filled me in."
Frank winked at Abby. "All good, I promise."
"Then he must've left out my chocolate nosedive," Abby said without thinking.
Tanner cleared his throat.
"What I mean is…" Abby said, letting her words trail off, her face growing hot in spite of the cool day.
"Oh, sweetie," Jan said on a laugh. She leaned in and whispered, "That's how I knew I'd like you so much."
Abby beamed as Frank slapped Tanner on the back. "Come with me, son. The driver will bring your bags in. I've got something to show you in my workroom." He turned to his wife and Abby. "We'll see you two later."
Abby glanced up at Tanner. He smiled down at her, his gaze unusually playful. "Will you be all right without me for a while, sweetheart?"
Her breath caught at his look and the endearment, but she managed to utter, "I'll try."
"Men," Jan said when they were alone. "They always think you need them, when it's really the other way round. But of course, we never tell them so. Don't want to burst their masculine bubbles, do we?"
"No, we don't," Abby said as she followed Jan into the house, trying not to think about how Tanner didn't need her. How he didn't need anyone.
* * *
"How many times have you seen Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, son?"
Tanner stared at Frank as they stood in what could have been an oversize toolshed at one time, but had been revamped to resemble a miniature version of the Swanson Sweets plant. Bright lights, candy-making contraptions, small assembly line.
Willy Wonka? His mind raced back to his childhood. Visions of oompa-boompas and everlasting gobstoppers flitted through. He'd seen that movie in school, but he couldn't recall the exact story. "I saw it as a child. Friday night was movie night at my boarding school."
Frank nodded. "I went to boarding school, too. Back East. It could be pretty lonely at times."
"Well, that's certainly changed," Tanner said lightly. "You have a big family now."
"My wife, my children – they were my saving grace." Frank smiled at him. "You'll find that out."
Tanner nodded slowly. "Yes, sir."
"How many do you want?"
"How many what?"
Frank laughed. "Children."
His chest tightened, and he wondered at the physical reaction to such an easy question. "Abby and I really haven't decided."
"It's a challenge, that's for sure. Probably the biggest one either of you will ever face. But the rewards are something else, Tanner." His eyes softened. "No acquisition or hostile takeover can match it."
Tanner nodded stiffly. Normally CEOs didn't get personal or philosophical. He was damned uncomfortable. In fact, this whole conversation bothered him. He didn't mind being alone and he wasn't looking for a wife or family to save him. His father had been married and had a child, and he hadn't been able to get rid of Tanner fast enough.
"You're an intelligent businessman, Tanner." Frank leaned against a metal cabinet. "You've probably gathered by now that this weekend wasn't just for recreation. Yes, I want to get to know you and Abby better, and I want you to know us."
Tanner nodded. "We've been looking forward to it. Hopefully, we'll find some time to talk a little business. I brought a full plan—" Swanson's expression was enough to stop him midsentence.
"Besides getting acquainted, there's something else I want from you, Tanner," Frank explained. "It's a tad unconventional. I don't know if you're up to the task."
A muscle worked in Tanner's jaw. "Name it."
"In the three days you're here, you'll have free rein of this workshop."
"For what purpose?"
"I want you to design your own piece of candy. A Tanner original."
Tanner felt his brow furrow. "I'm not a chef. You can't expect me—"
"I expect you to try," Frank interrupted. "It doesn't have to be perfect, Tanner. I'm far more interested in creativity."
"Look, Frank. I'm a businessman."
"I understand that. But the other buyers who want this company have a creative streak, a sense of play." He regarded Tanner with a serious gaze. "I want to see yours."
Tanner didn't know whether to laugh or curse. The man was serious. Creativity? Hell, ask him the long-term sales projections for each of his many companies and he'd have numbers in ten seconds. But invent a piece of candy? Frank might as well have asked him to carry the New York Stock Exchange on his back.
