It was on the tip of Reese's tongue to ask if that would be so bad, but he was relieved of that urge by Bob's interjection. "Come on, Lilith. You saw them at the retirement party."
"Could be an act," she said.
Reese's nostrils flared.
"Well you can't expect them to consummate on the boardroom table for you to see how serious they are," Frank, who hated Lilith, replied, oddly on Reese's side.
"Over the line." Reese stood and pressed his palms into the table. "If you think I'd pander to you or the stockholders, you're out of your mind."
He may have married Merina for favor, but that had since changed. No longer was it a show. The hugs and kisses—the sex—everything between them had shifted from pretend to real.
"My father is right. I've been groomed for CEO my entire life. Lilith, as someone who used to be friends with my mother, I'd think you'd have more respect for my choice of woman to settle down with. She would approve."
"She would," Lilith said gently.
Alex put his elbow on the table and stroked his hand over his mustache, probably to keep himself from interrupting.
"And, Frank, unless you'd like the entire room to imagine what you'd look like having sex with that twenty-eight-year-old wannabe actress you're dating, I'd thank you to never paint a visual like you just did about Merina. As for the rest of you serpents, if you could call on whatever professionalism still clinging to your recently shed skin, you might consider my talents, my motivation, and my work record rather than who I take to bed every night."
Reese straightened, buttoned his jacket, and scooped his phone off the table. "If you'll excuse me, I have to prepare for a real meeting this evening."
No one added anything, not even his father. Reese all but strutted from that room, mentally picturing his own mic drop.
Merina would have been proud.
* * *
"What a bunch of cockroaches," Merina commented after Reese told her how far south the meeting had slipped. She opened a drawer, then another, then one after that. "Where is a knife in this kitchen?"
He shrugged. "How would I know?"
She gave him a bland look.
"Does not require a knife." He lifted his glass of scotch. "Anyway, Magda does all the cooking around here, don't you, Magda?"
"Top left, next to the refrigerator," his housekeeper answered as began filling the dishwasher. The woman was crazy efficient.
"What are you doing, anyway?" he asked as Merina carved into an avocado.
"I'm making guacamole."
"Why?"
"Why am I making guacamole?" She quit carving and gave him a confused, possibly miffed look. She was too damned attractive.
"I don't want to know why you're making guacamole. I want to know why you don't have Magda make guacamole? She likes to make things. That's why she works here. Right, Magda?"
Magda, who'd known him nearly his entire life, smiled one of her supremely tolerant smiles. "I do indeed, Mr. Crane. It's nice to cook for someone again, seeing as how you've been away from the mansion for so long."
He tilted his head and arched an eyebrow, hoping she read his silent communication to curb that discussion. Not that there was a need. Magda wasn't one to gossip.
"Sometimes it's fun to do things for yourself," Merina said, halving the fruit…or was avocado a vegetable? Something to ask Siri later.
"But most of the time it's nice to have things done to you," Reese said. "I mean, for you."
Merina shot him a glare, catching his intentional reference to the things he'd like done to him. Things she did with her mouth and hands, involving her wearing a hell of lot less clothing than she was now.
"You weren't born with a silver spoon in your mouth, Crane." She pointed at him with the tip of the knife. "You were born with an entire cutlery drawer in there."
Magda chuckled and Merina smiled in triumph. He abandoned his scotch and stalked to his wife, lashing an arm around her middle and pressing her against the counter from behind.
"What was that?" he rumbled into her ear. She smelled good today. She smelled good every day, but today there was something light and intoxicating about the fragrance on her neck. "New perfume?"
"Yes, you bought it."
"You're welcome."
"No, you're welcome," she breathed.
"Magda, I'm going to need a moment with my wife." He lowered his lips to Merina's neck and she dropped the knife with a clatter, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. He closed his hands over her hips and squeezed.
Merina rubbed her ass against his crotch.
"Second thought, take the evening off," he told Magda, not wanting to expose his housekeeper to more.
"Just like your parents." Magda tsked and pressed a button to start the dishwasher. "Good night."
That comment was one he chose to ignore.
Once Magda was out of sight, Merina turned to face him and this time rubbed her front against his front. He wound his fingers around her ponytail and dragged the elastic from the strands, freeing her hair, enjoying the soft feel of every part of her and the easy attention she gave him.
"Why is it"—he lowered his lips to hers—"that when you sass me, all I want to do is fuck you?"
Her hands rose and spread over his chest, sending an answering heat flooding his veins. Because Merina liked sex, because she'd initiated it, and because she'd made it a point to show her enjoyment, he didn't have to mince his words. He could tell her what he wanted, and she would respond.
She brushed her lips against his, but instead of kissing him, whispered, "What did Magda mean we're like your parents?" Then she grinned, knowing his balls were aching. She lifted herself to sit on the counter. "Tell me. I want to know."
He let out a sigh, but she grabbed his tie and pulled him to stand between her legs. Once he was there, he wasn't inclined to leave.
"Mom and Dad were a nightmare," he said, teasing. "They were insanely in love, but in a house full of boys, the gross-out factor was high. "All over each other. Kissing in the kitchen, making out in the pool. Once I walked in on them on the couch in the living room and they said they were cuddling. After I aged up a few years, I knew exactly what they were doing.