Today, it seemed, he did.
All the while his assistant Kent Traynor discussed the Harker buyout with him, Dominic’s mind wandered. He found himself idly staring at Traynor’s solid navy tie and wondering if his wife had ever—
“—don’t you think?”
“What?” Dominic jerked back to the moment, aware that he felt oddly flushed and disoriented.
“Think it’s a good deal,” Traynor was saying. “The Harker buyout,” he clarified when Dominic didn’t reply at once.
“Oh. Yes, yes. Yes, I do.” Which he supposed he did, based on what he’d read in the file yesterday. He sure as hell hadn’t been able to focus on it this morning.
“So we should go ahead?” Traynor got to his feet.
“What? Oh, yes, I suppose we should.” Dominic checked his watch, still wondering if he would have time for Sierra before a one-thirty meeting.
“I’ll get right on it then,” Traynor said happily.
“You do that,” Dominic said and reached for the phone.
She wasn’t home. He supposed she might have gone to his place, but Lupe, his cleaning lady, said there was no one else there. Disgruntled, he called her agent.
“Of course I know where she is,” he said. “Right where she’s supposed to be. At Gibson Walker’s.”
“Until when?”
“Until they’re finished, of course.”
Dominic ground his teeth. “How far ahead is she booked?” Then, hearing the answer, he said, “Unbook her.”
“What?”
“She’s got other things to do.”
“What?”
“She’s on her honeymoon,” Dominic said and banged down the phone.
He was in Gibson Walker’s reception room, when she came out of the studio that evening. Toby Hart, one of the models, had his arm looped over her shoulder and was feeding her one of his ritual lines of bull when she spied Dominic across the room.
He was tapping his foot and glancing at his watch and glaring in annoyance at Edith, Gib’s office manager, who stood guarding the inner door with the ferocity of a pit bull.
Sierra smiled. “Hey. Hi!”
“Who’s that?” Toby asked.
“My, um, husband?” It wasn’t supposed to sound like a question, but somehow it did.
Toby hooted. “A husband? Our Sierra has a husband?” He started to laugh.
Dominic stepped up and with deceptive casualness removed Toby’s arm from her shoulders and replaced it with his own. His fingers felt like steel as they curved into her upper arm. “She has a husband,” he said with steely smoothness.
Toby grinned, still thinking it was a joke.
Then, “You’re late,” Dominic growled.
Sierra blinked. “For what?”
“This.”
Before she realized what was happening, his lips were on hers. It was a humdinger of a kiss. Fierce, passionate, possessive.
It said, “She’s mine,” in no uncertain terms. And Sierra, eyes flickering open for an instant, saw that Toby had received the message. As had Edith and Gibson, and Charlee and Cara and Dave, the other models, Sebastian, the ad agency rep, and Lisa, the makeup artist. They stood in a clump in the studio doorway, jaws sagging, as Dominic staked his claim.
Fair enough, Sierra thought. If he could brand her as his, she could do the same to him.
So, shutting her eyes, she returned his kiss with all the fervor, passion and hunger that had been growing inside her all day. She looped her arms around his neck and plastered her body against his—and felt an instant response.
His possessiveness became desire. His passion became hunger. And hers was equal to it. What had started out as a simple branding fire had turned into a full-fledged conflagration. And when they finally pulled apart, it was to stare at each other in wide-eyed astonishment.
“Wow,” Toby said, which just about summed it up as far as Sierra was concerned.
Dominic exhaled sharply and grabbed her hand. “We’re going home,” he said.
CHAPTER FOUR
IF SHE’D had to guess what Dominic’s apartment would look like, she’d have imagined acres of polished teak, furniture of chrome and leather and steel, white walls and the perfectly positioned piece of abstract art.
She would have missed by a mile.
His apartment, she knew, was in an elegant pre-war Fifth Avenue building. They were greeted by a doorman who said, “Good evening, Mr. Wolfe,” and whose eyes widened only momentarily at his purple-haired companion. They crossed a spacious marble-tiled lobby and walked beneath crystal chandeliers. They rode up five floors in an elevator with exquisite inlaid wood paneling on every wall. They stepped into a graciously appointed vestibule with carpet so thick Sierra felt as if they were standing on a cloud. There were only four doors besides the elevator on the floor. Dominic opened the one facing Fifth and stood back to let her enter first.
Her