Private Pleasures Read online

  Private Pleasures

  Janelle Denison

  She was so sexy!

  Grey Nichols wanted a lover, not a wife. But after he met beautiful Mariah Stevens, he couldn't get her out of his mind. Lucky for him, she wasn't out of his bed much, either! He was so captivated by her, he considered the unspeakable-asking Mariah to move in with him.

  He was so sexy!

  Mariah Stevens wanted a husband, not a lover. No matter how incredible the nights were with Grey, she needed more. So she gave him an ultimatum-no…

  Janelle Denison

  Private Pleasures

  © 1998

  ***

  Dear Reader,

  Every man has a weakness, and for Grey Nichols, it's Mariah Stevens. He's crazy about her, and he can't imagine his life without her in it. Never has he met a woman who complements him so perfectly…and he decides there's only one thing left for him to do-propose that she move in with him.

  As far as heroes go, Grey is as irresistible and charming as they get. Not to mention gorgeous and sexy! I'd have a hard time resisting his proposition, but Mariah has strong beliefs. Even though she's head over heels in love with Grey, she can't accept his cynical views toward love and marriage. And she certainly won't settle for anything less than a lifetime commitment.

  Private Pleasures is my first book for Temptation. It's a thrill for me to be among the many Temptation authors I've read and loved for years. I hope you enjoy reading about Mariah's greatest challenge-leading her reluctant groom to the altar. And the story doesn't stop there! Next month, Mariah's sister Jade finds a man who makes her every fantasy come true, in Private Fantasies, the second part of my two-alarm BLAZE.

  Enjoy,

  Janelle Denison

  To Dad, who has shown me that with hard work and

  dedication, I can do or be anything I set my mind to.

  To Mom, for your support, encouragement and

  unending pride.

  To a treasured friend, Jamie Ann Denton, for more reasons than simple words could ever express.

  And as always to my husband, Don, who gives me the

  confidence to believe in myself. You are the reason all my

  dreams have come true.

  Chapter One

  Mariah Stevens tiptoed around the shadowy bedroom, quietly picking up her scattered clothes so she wouldn't wake the man sprawled on the huge cherry-wood bed dominating the masculine room. Hunter green bedsheets were tangled in his long, muscular legs, and by sheer luck managed to drape over his hips just enough to cover him modestly. But the rest of his body was bare…gloriously, magnificently bare.

  Looking away from that distracting chest and lean belly, she concentrated on her search. In her eight months of dating Grey Nichols she'd seen him naked plenty, but the sight of him never failed to arouse all her feminine instincts. One touch, even a simple, chaste caress, had the ability to melt her heart and body. The scoundrel knew it, too, and used that knowledge to his advantage.

  Moonlight spilled into the room from an unshaded window, shimmering off her teal suit skirt and panty hose. She retrieved the items and added them to the neat pile at the foot of the bed, then picked up her slip.

  Grey stirred, and she glanced in his direction. He stretched like a big, lazy cat, muscles and sinew rippling with the movement. The sheet dipped low as he reached toward the side of the bed she slept in when she spent the night. His hand grappled with air, her vacant pillow, then fell slack. His sable lashes drifted open and their eyes met. She stilled.

  He had the most fascinating eyes. Like chocolate spun with the finest gold. Seductive, warm and altogether too sexy. She remembered thinking when they first met that he had bedroom eyes, the kind that had the ability to undress a woman in a single, sweeping glance, or make a woman shed her inhibitions and undress for him. He'd managed to do both.

  A familiar honeyed warmth flowed through her, and she resisted the urge to do exactly what those incredible eyes were asking: take off the shirt she wore and slide back into bed.

  The piece of lingerie slithered through her fingers like quicksilver and pooled on the rest of her garments. "Hi," she said.

  "Hi, yourself." His voice was a sleepy rumble, his smile pure, unadulterated sin. "What're doin'?"

  "Picking up my clothes." Finally spotting her panties by his walk-in closet-how in the world had they gotten clear across the room?-she scooped them up and put them on.

  Rolling to his side, he leaned on his elbow and propped his head in his palm, watching her as she bent over. "The view is great, honey, but three hours after the fact isn't the time to start worrying about your clothes being wrinkled."

  "I know that." She shot him an exasperated look, tempered by a soft smile. "I need to go."

  He glanced at the glowing digital clock on his night-stand, then back at her. "It's past midnight. Stay the night."

  "I can't." She disappeared into the bathroom for a moment and returned with a brush she kept in a drawer Grey had given her for her things.

  He frowned. "Why not?"

  She turned on the brass lamp on the dresser, illuminating the room with a soft glow. Pulling the brush through the tangles in her long, waist-length hair, she met his gaze in the mirror. "I don't have a change of clothes and I have an early appointment with a very important client."

  "Let Jade handle the account."

  At the mention of her sister and interior design partner, she shook her head. "He specifically asked for me." Separating her hair into three parts, she began braiding the blond strands. "He's a very conservative businessman who wants to redecorate his office. I'm afraid Jade's splashy, offbeat visions would scare him away."

  Grey chuckled, the sound low and intimate in the dusky room. "You've got a point. Her clientele does tend to run toward the eccentric."

  "That's why we work so well together." Finding an elastic band on his dresser, she tied off the end of her braid and flipped it over her shoulder. "We each have our own style, which gives our clients more variety."

  He crooked his finger at her. "C'mere and I'll show you some variety."

  "I've got to go, Grey." Regret tinged her voice. "Really."

  He sighed heavily. "I hate it when you sneak out on me, you know that, don't you?"

  She rolled her eyes at his exaggeration. "I never 'sneak' out on you." Opening one of his drawers, she rummaged through the contents until she found a pair of soft, drawstring sweatpants.

  "Now what are you doing?"

  "Borrowing a pair of sweatpants so I don't have to wear my suit home." She approached the bed, one brow lifted. "Do you mind?"

  "Yeah, I mind." Quick as a snap, he manacled her wrist and tumbled her onto the bed. Quicker, he pinned her beneath the heat and strength of his body. She gasped and stared into dark, predatory eyes fueled with purpose. The sweatpants fell from her fingers and slid to the floor.

  "Do you know," he said in a slow, deliberate drawl, "that you look great in my shirt?"

  The meltdown began, liquefying her bones. When he wielded that seductive charm of his she couldn't resist him. Didn't want to. It amazed her how tender and playful Grey could be when they were alone, the ruthless, arrogant facade he presented to the rest of the world gone. "Yeah?" she prompted huskily.

  "Umm." He nuzzled her neck while he unbuttoned the shirt in question, his fingers brushing the swell of her breasts. "You look even better wearing nothing at all."

  She closed her eyes and automatically arched her neck for his mouth. A shiver of anticipation cascaded down her spine. She had to stop this madness.

  "Grey-" His name escaped on a wispy catch of breath.

  He lifted his head to stare into her eyes. "You fit perfectly into my life," he murmured.

&n
bsp; Her heart skipped a beat. His words were the most intimate declaration he'd ever given her. She'd often wondered about fitting into his life, considering the unconventional way their relationship had evolved-quickly, and with a fiery passion that had both terrified and thrilled her. Grey was like no other man she'd ever known.

  He'd pursued her with a single-mindedness, an l-want-you-in-my-bed kind of single-mindedness. And still, knowing his intentions, she'd fallen hard for him and his seduction of flowers, dinners and drugging kisses. Then came that fateful night in his office when a kiss had led to a touch, a touch to intimate caresses, shed clothing and wicked promises. When he'd gently pressed her onto his leather couch and followed her down, she'd lost her heart. Although he'd made her none of the promises she'd longed to hear, she'd been more than willing to make love with him.

  Much to her surprise, he hadn't dropped her for another conquest, as was his reputation, she'd learned from a few male colleagues. She didn't know what made her different from all his other brief affairs, but it had never mattered. Being deliriously in love with someone tended to obliterate all reason.

  They were good together and very compatible in bed-especially in bed, she thought with a private smile-in business and on a personal level, though she occasionally felt he kept a part of himself distanced from her. A part of his past he'd never shared before. Something emotional and painful. She'd granted him that privacy, hoping in time he'd come to trust her enough to confide in her.

  Grey pushed the collar of his shirt off her shoulder, baring her breasts and bringing Mariah back to the present. Dark eyes watched her nipples grow taut in the cool night air. "I hate it when you leave in the middle of the night."

  She loved that boyish pout of his. Smiling, she pressed her hands lightly against his chest, reveling in the feel of firm muscle and crisp, curly hair. "I can't help it."

  He dragged his gaze back to hers. His serious expression tightened the lines around his eyes and mouth. "I want to wake up to you every day."

  She searched his face, seeing a vulnerability that touched a tender chord in her and sped up her pulse. "What are you saying, Grey?"

  He pulled in a deep breath. "You know I'll be moving into my new house next week."

  "Yes." His "new" house was a breathtaking five-thousand-square-foot custom-built home that sat on a hill overlooking Malibu Beach. She'd spent the past six months consulting with Grey over tile squares, carpet samples, fabric swatches and wallpaper samples, along with selecting all new furnishings for each room. "The decorating was finalized two days ago and furniture should be delivered the beginning of the week. You should be able to move in by Friday. I'd be more than happy to help you box stuff and move it-"

  He pressed two fingers against her lips to stop her babbling. "Mariah, there's something very important I want to ask you."

  Her stomach flip-flopped, then a batch of butterflies hatched. He looked nervous, more nervous than she'd ever seen him. Beneath her palms, his heart raced. God, she was crazy in love with him, had known after a few months of dating that he was a man she could spend the rest of her life with. She'd been patient with him. Had he finally realized he loved her, too? That marriage was the only logical progression left to their relationship?

  She'd waited forever for this moment, when some man would ask her to be his wife. Maybe it sounded a bit corny, but ever since she was a little girl she'd dreamed of getting married and having babies. In all her fantasies, she'd never envisioned Grey proposing in quite this way, but then Grey never did anything conventionally. All at once she was aware of her disheveled state after their evening together, her skin still tingling and glowing from his earlier possession.

  She dampened her bottom lip with her tongue. "What is it?"

  His intense gaze focused on her face. The stubble lining his jaw gave him a dark, dangerous edge. "We've been dating for eight months now," he stated, his tone rough.

  She smiled, trying to lighten the moment for him and put him at ease. "Longer than you've been with any woman, I do recall you saying."

  "True," he agreed, skimming a hand along the curve of her waist to her hip. "I don't want anyone but you. You're everything I've ever wanted. You're intelligent, beautiful, amusing and sexy as all hell."

  "Flattery will get you everywhere, Nichols," she teased in a sultry voice. She twined her arms around his neck, feeling languorous and wonderfully exhilarated. "I'm glad you still feel that way."

  "I've definitely met my match."

  Excitement and anticipation mingled. She shifted restlessly beneath him, wanting to hear those four words that would irrevocably change the direction of her life. "What did you want to ask me, Grey?"

  He cleared his throat, hesitated, then, "Will you… I mean, I think we should… Aw, hell," he muttered in frustration.

  Seeing how difficult it was for him to propose, she decided to make it easy on him. She placed her hand on his bristly cheek, certain the love she felt for him shone in her eyes. "Yes, Grey," she whispered. "I'll marry you."

  He blanched and jerked away from her, a horrified expression transforming his handsome features. "Marry?" The one word choked out of him.

  "Yes." She frowned. Had she misunderstood his intentions? More cautiously, she continued. "That is what you were trying to ask me, wasn't it?"

  Shaking his head wildly, he moved off the bed faster than a thief escaping a potentially volatile situation. "No!"

  Confused, she sat up, pulling the edges of the shirt around her bare breasts. "Then what were you going to ask me?"

  He filched the sweatpants she'd taken from his dresser and yanked them on, pulling the drawstring tight around his waist. He paced the floor, his mouth stretched into a grim line.

  Feeling foolish that she'd misdiagnosed all the signs pointing toward a marriage proposal, she wrapped her arms around her drawn-up knees to hold herself together. "Grey?" Her voice was as tentative as she felt.

  Abruptly he stopped a few feet away from her side of the bed. "I…I want you to move into my new house with me."

  Her stomach took a dive off a very steep cliff, taking her heart with it. "Move in with you?" she echoed, praying she'd somehow heard him incorrectly.

  He pushed his fingers through his thick, sable hair. "It's a practical arrangement, considering how we virtually live together as it is. Most of the time you stay here, but I'm tired of ping-ponging between both of our condos. And with you living with your sister, we rarely have any privacy at your place."

  She stared at the man she loved, trying to claw her way out of the numbing shock of disillusionment fogging her mind. "You…you want to live together?"

  He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "Yes."

  She couldn't live with empty promises. Not again. No matter how much she loved him. "No."

  He looked taken aback by her reply. "No?"

  "No!" Her strength returned on a wave of determination. "I can't live with you, Grey."

  "Why not? You know all my bad habits," he said, then added a shrug. "Not that I have many."

  She lifted a brow at his arrogant assumption.

  "Okay, I have a few habits that are less than desirable," he admitted, "but I'd hardly call squeezing the toothpaste from the middle of the tube a crime. And I know you hate it when I leave my underwear on the floor, but I eventually pick it up."

  If they were having this discussion under different circumstances she'd be laughing by now. But that was difficult to do when she felt like crying instead. "This isn't about toothpaste or your underwear, Grey. It's about commitment."

  He jammed his hands on his hips, looking offended. "I'm committed to you."

  She swallowed the knot in her throat and tasted the awful bitterness of despair. "Not in the way that matters."

  "I haven't dated anyone since you." She recognized the tight clenching of his jaw. An involuntary action that happened whenever he was losing control of a situation. "Eight months is longer than I've ever lasted in a relationship. Doesn't any of
that matter?"

  She smoothed her hand over the cool sheets, unable to lie to him. "Yes, it matters." But she wanted, and needed, more.

  He sat on the edge of the bed next to her, searching her gaze for answers. "If it matters, then why can't you move in with me?"

  Her one experience living with a man had given her a clearer perspective of what she wanted. This time she wasn't going to settle for less than full measure. "Because the day I move in with someone is the day I'm wearing a wedding ring. That's the kind of commitment I'm talking about. A forever kind of commitment. A total commitment shared by two people in love."

  He rubbed his forehead with his fingers, his expression reflecting his misery. "You knew I wasn't looking for marriage when we got involved, that I don't intend to get married. Ever."

  "Yes, you did say that, but I kept hoping your feelings would change."

  "My feelings have changed," he stated emphatically. "I care for you more than I've cared for anyone in my entire life."

  "I'm touched. Truly I am," she said, aching deep inside for something she knew would never be. "But it's not enough. Not anymore."

  "It was enough a month ago, a week ago, a day ago," he pointed out, his voice rising in frustration.

  "I love you, Grey." It wasn't the first time she'd said those words to him, yet the sudden terror in his eyes was as fresh and raw as the first time she'd declared her emotions to him.

  He blinked away the panic and forcibly regained his composure. Grasping her hand, he brought it to his lap and held it gently. "I know you do, sweetheart-"

  "Do you love me?"

  His face paled, and the fingers stroking her palm stilled. "I've never asked another woman to live with me."

  She managed to laugh. "I guess I should consider it an honor, but that's not what I asked you."

  Dropping her hand, he stood and prowled around the room, his body tense. She watched him, trying to understand the perimeters of their relationship. Grey had never been one to express his emotions verbally; she'd learned that over their months together. He'd never told her he loved her, but she knew what they had together was special-special enough to base a future on. And sometimes, when he looked at her a certain way, she was positive he loved her, whether he verbally expressed the emotion or not.