He was going to nail it.
* * *
"Mr. Crane, Mrs. Crane is here," came Bobbie's voice over the intercom.
Reese blinked up from the e-mail he was typing to check the time at the top of the screen. It was eight? At night? The day had flown and for much of it, he'd been in the zone. Busy, handling his current position as well as delegating work since they hadn't yet found anyone to take over his former position as COO.
"You don't have to announce she's here, Bobbie. Just let her in." Good Lord. That woman was a robot.
"Yes, sir."
A few seconds later, Merina swept in looking fresh and beautiful in a deep purple dress and tall, tall shoes. Since he hadn't dropped her at work this morning, he hadn't seen what she was wearing. So infatuated with the cut of the dress and curve of her hips, he noticed belatedly, that she was carrying a very large frame.
"To what do I owe this honor?" He stood and came out from behind his desk.
"For your trophy room." She flipped the frame around. It was the newspaper article. He grinned like an idiot.
"I don't have a trophy room." He accepted the frame, his eyes perusing the article there. The article he'd unabashedly read five times and stopped short of highlighting his favorite parts.
"Start one," she said.
He put the frame on his desk and swept Merina into his arms. She slipped her hands around his neck and tilted her head, her blond hair sweeping off her face.
"We did it," she said, her voice tender.
We. He and Merina had been a team, still were a team. This was what had been missing since he spotted the article this morning. He'd yet to share it with Merina.
Now he felt…whole.
"Yeah, we did." He kissed her. Hard yet soft, loving the way she clung to him and pressed her body against his. Loving that she'd come down here, hefting a frame in those high-heeled shoes of hers, to deliver his gift. She didn't have it sent. She hadn't waited until he arrived home. She brought it up here with her own two hands.
Hands now resting on the back of his neck while he tasted her mouth. With a deep intake of breath, he slanted his head the other way and accepted her tongue, sliding his palms from her back to her front where he cupped a breast, then shaped her ribs and hips with his hands.
She hummed in the back of her throat and only then did he pull away to look her in the eyes.
"I guess you like it?" she asked. Her lips were slightly pink from sparring with his five o'clock shadow.
"You're very hands-on."
She slid those hands to his chest. "Which you have enjoyed many times."
Not what he meant, but he let her have the innuendo. What he'd implied was that she cared. About her hotel. About her parents. About people in general. About his accomplishments. She cared…about him. He cupped her hands in one of his and trapped them against his heart.
He cared about her, too, but there wasn't a safe place to lay those words. Nowhere to store them considering he and Merina were nearly at the finish line.
"Don't go mushy on me, Crane." Her smile shook at the edges, possibly concerned he might say some of the words she'd seen reflected in his eyes.
There was a safe space for them, and it started and ended with sex. He'd stick to the program, as requested. For both their sakes.
"Not capable of mush," he said, then further demonstrated by bending at the knees and sliding one hand beneath her skirt. "Tell me, Merina. Have you ever harbored a fantasy about having sex with the CEO of Crane Hotels in his office?"
She rolled her eyes but her face colored. If she hadn't thought of it before, she was definitely thinking about it now. Better than her trying to guess what he'd been thinking—which was that regardless of a contract or a wedding band, he liked the idea of sharing things with her. Drinks, dinners, and sex were givens, but smiles and jokes and conversation had been added to the mix.
He liked them all. He molded his hands along her bare thigh and over the silky material of her panties. "Are they purple?" he asked with a groan.
She had a proclivity to match her underwear to her outfit.
"They are." Her fingernails raked through his hair, and much as he hated to do it, he moved away from her to punch a button on his phone. "Bobbie, go home."
"Yes, sir," came her reply.
"I assumed we'd celebrate more formally, but this works too." Merina's eyebrows rose in challenge when he returned to her.
"We should do what we do best, don't you think?"
"I do." She reached behind her back and he listened to the snick-snick of the zipper as she slowly drew it down her back. He watched hungrily as the front of her dress loosened at her breasts. Seconds later, she was pulling it from her shoulders and dropping it to the floor. His eyes were glued to the purple bra shoving her breasts together, perfectly contrasting the bright orange and yellow flames licking the end of her arrow tattoo.
"Tell me," she said, her voice a seductive purr. "Are you the one with the fantasy of having sex as CEO of Crane Hotels?" She took a bold step toward him.
"Definitely." He caught her hips.
"I won't ask if you've ever had sex in this office because I don't want to know. I could still be your first as the man in charge, which counts for something."
"It's a first on both counts." He could tell by her relaxed expression she liked being his first. "You're a lot of firsts for me, Merina." He unclasped her bra. "My first hostile takeover." Her eyelids narrowed, so he added, "My first wife." He dragged the bra off her arms, sliding his fingertips along her skin and watching as her nipples pebbled in the cool air. "My first—"
She caught his mouth to stop his words and he was glad, because he wasn't sure what would have followed those words. Soon there was pulling and tugging, unbuttoning and unzipping. He closed his lips over her breast as she stroked him into a fevered frenzy.
Whatever happened between them, he'd forever have this memory. Pain shot through his heart. He didn't like thinking of her as a memory. She was his for now, and that's where he'd stay.
If they were creating a memory, he'd create one she wouldn't soon forget. He spun her so she faced the windows. Mirrored, no one was seeing in, but she never brought it up. Either she trusted him or simply didn't care if anyone looked. Both of those worked for him.