A One Night Affair

Chapter 18

She wasn't going to sneak out of Hunter's bed this morning and, even if she wanted to, she couldn't. Hunter had his arm wrapped around her waist and his leg was across her thigh and she was in the firm, and delicious, grip of her lover. She felt secure and safe and well loved.

She wanted to do this again. She wanted to wake up like this for the rest of her life. Okay, it was ridiculously soon to think of Hunter in those terms—happy-ever-after, forever terms—but she couldn't imagine her life without him in it. Jenna looked around his room, saw the original art on the wall opposite—God, was that an O'Keeffe painting?—and her eyes danced across his bespoke furniture. Hunter was ridiculously wealthy, but she didn't see that, not really. He eclipsed his wealth; his personality outshone his success. She didn't see the big house, the fast cars and the designer clothes and furniture; she saw the man. Funny, acerbic, arrogant but sweet. Tender under all that alpha-ness.

She could, without the least bit of encouragement, love him. If she wasn't already there. He—damn, this wasn't easy to admit—consumed her. She wanted him, wanted to be his and him to be hers.

As if that were at all possible. You're a down-to-earth, still-trying-to-succeed baker. He is a Michelin-starred chef. They were at different points of their lives and careers but she didn't care. With a little thought, a little compromise, they could make this work.

If he wanted her, which she wasn't sure he did.

"I can hear your thinking," Hunter muttered. "Stop it, it's early."

"And I need to get to work," Jenna said. As strange and consuming as her new feelings for Hunter were, she couldn't allow him to jeopardize her job. She still, hopefully, had her pride.

"God, I can't wait for this wedding to be over."

"Two days and counting," Hunter said, opening his pretty eyes. "Hello. So glad you didn't run."

Jenna snorted. "I'm sure you are." She looked down to where his erection pushed into her thigh and told herself they couldn't, not again. Oh, they could, but she was already late and skating on thin ice with her employers. Hunter's hand cupped her breast and his thumb swiped her nipple and Jenna had to force herself to roll away from him. She stood up, picked up his T-shirt and pulled it over her head.

Hunter sat up and rested his arms on his bended knees. "Please don't tell me we are back to where we were last night? This Stephanie thing will blow over."

Jenna nodded. "I know that. But I do need to go to work, Hunter. You can afford to blow off work, but I can't."

Hunter raked his hand through his hair and nodded. "Okay. Give me five minutes and I'll drive you."

"I have my car here. It's parked just beyond yours. Did you not notice?"

Hunter grimaced. "Nope. I was in a bit of a mood. How did you get in?"

"Your gates were open," Jenna replied.

"The gate motor must be acting up again. The gates haven't been closing automatically and I always forget to hit the remote when I leave." Hunter stood up and went to the window, pulling the drapes aside to look down the driveway. Pulling them wider, he looked down and released a litany of F-bombs.

Jenna walked over to the window but Hunter's harsh "stay back" stopped her in her tracks. Dropping the drapes, he looked at her, his face suffused with anger. "There are about twenty paparazzi at my freaking door. On my damn property!"

Jenna felt her knees wobble as ice invaded her veins. "Oh, crap. They are going to find me here. Oh, God, I'm so fired."

She made herself walk over to Hunter and dug her fingers into his arm. "Can I sneak out the back?"

"No. And they've already seen your car, Jenna," Hunter replied, his tone harsh. "Get dressed and try to look professional."

Try? She was standing in his T-shirt, still recovering from a night long on passion and short on sleep. "You're here for an early meeting. I wanted to talk to you about providing specialist pastries for HunterGreen."

That wouldn't fly. No one had meetings at six thirty in the morning. And she was still consorting MSM's competition. "But—"

"Just get dressed, dammit," Hunter said, walking over to his dressing room. "When I open the door, they are going to toss questions at your head. Do not answer. I will do all the talking."

Jenna, not knowing what else to do and thoroughly discombobulated—partly because her tender lover had morphed into an order-tossing autocrat—dressed and walked into the bathroom. She tossed water onto her face and used Hunter's brush to tame her hair.

Hunter appeared in the doorway and looked at her in the massive mirror. "Do you have any lipstick? Blusher?"

"No, I came here to talk to you, not to be accosted by reporters."

Hunter cursed again, grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door. He jogged down his stairs and picked up her bag from the hall table and pulled out her car keys. "Go straight to your car, do not answer any questions. Got it?"

Yes. No. Wait. She still had questions for him—When was she going to see him again? Would he call her later? What did all this mean?—but Hunter didn't give her a moment to ask anything, let alone compose herself. He just opened the door and what seemed like a million camera flashes blinded her.

"For God's sake!" Hunter bellowed, his hand on her back. "Back the hell up, everyone."

"Are you and Hunter having an affair, Jenna?"

"When did you first start seeing each other?"

"What do you think about Stephanie Rhodes's allegations?"

Hunter pushed her toward her car before holding up his hand. "Guys, you're barking up the wrong tree." His tone and expression were genial. "And if you allow Ms. Lynwood to leave, I will give you a statement."

The crowd parted and Jenna walked, unobstructed, to her car. Oh, obviously they didn't want to hear from her, they just wanted a statement from Hunter Price. With no one paying attention to her, Jenna hovered on the edge of the crowd, curious to hear what Hunter had to say.

"Guys, come on. You're overreaching. Jenna and I both have busy schedules and that's why we agreed to meet so early. And really, have you ever known me to bring a woman back to my place? It's not something I do."

"She's not your type either."

Jenna heard the comment and Hunter's subsequent laughter, feeling like he'd buried a dagger in her heart. Last night she'd felt infinitely precious, utterly adored. Now she felt dismissed and inconsequential.

"No, she's not my usual type," Hunter genially agreed. He lifted his hands in an I'm-too-charming-for-my-own-good shrug. Bastard.

"There's nothing to see here, guys, no story to write. I'm as single as I've ever been and I haven't fathered any children, should that rumor come up. I'm just a guy trying to have a business meeting with a woman I met two days ago."

Damn he was good, Jenna thought, her heart ripping in two. And when Hunter met her eyes over the heads of the reporters, she wondered if she was the person he was trying the hardest to convince.

And when Hunter jerked his head toward her car, he knew what he was telling her to do.

Go now. Get out of my life.

Yeah, this time she'd make her leaving permanent.