Kitabı oku: «No Ring Required», sayfa 4
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“I’ll tell you why not. I’m here for business not for pl—” She came to screeching halt, which made Ethan’s eyes glitter even more wickedly.
“If this helps,” he began. “Rubbing your aching feet is business. echnically.”
“I can’t wait to hear this.”
“It’s my job, my duty—my business, if you will. Or so I’ve read.”
She looked surprised. “You’ve been reading books on…”
“Pregnancy? Yep.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “Pregnancy, baby care, labor, postpartum, breastfeeding—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” she said, relaxing back into the couch as Ethan’s strong hands worked the tired knots in her arches. “Five minutes max.”
He laughed. “I’ve learned many useful things.”
“Like?” she asked, trying to keep her eyes open and the soft, cozy sound out of her voice.
“Like nausea and strange cravings are very normal in the first trimester.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So are leg cramps and exhaustion.”
“Yep.”
“And an unusually high sex drive.”
Her eyes flew open and she sat up, swung her legs to the floor. It took her a moment to tamp down the tremors of need running through her. She felt the urge so strongly, all she wanted him to do was continue touching her. She wanted his mouth on hers, nudging her lips apart with his tongue…“All right,” she said breathlessly. “Southern food, maybe Southwest or Cajun. What about having an autumn-barn-dance theme for your brunch?”
“A heavy sex drive is nothing to be ashamed of, Mary.”
She tilted her chin up. “I’ve never been ashamed of it.”
What she was saying dawned on him almost immediately, and his eyes lit with mischief, his lips parted sensuously.
“Now, can we get back to this?” she asked coolly.
He wouldn’t allow her to look away. “Nothing happened with Allisonn.”
Her heart skipped and she swallowed nervously. She wanted to tell him that she couldn’t care less about blondie, but he wouldn’t believe her. “This doesn’t sound like brunch discussion.”
“Mary…” he began, his voice the husky baritone she remembered from those nights at the lake.
“Listen, Curtis, what you do in your house, bedroom, pool, etcetera is your business. Let’s just get on with this.”
“Why are you so hard?”
“Bad genes,” she responded succinctly which made him laugh. “Not from my parents. They were angels. But they say attitude skips a generation.”
Shaking his head, he stared at her for a moment, then he stood up and reached for her. “Dance with me?”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“We’ll make it business related. Show me what you’re talking about with this barn concept. There’s got to be some dancing involved on my deck, right?”
“Yes, but there’s no music.”
“I could turn some on, but I don’t think we need it,” He touched his temple with his index finger. “It’s all in here.”
Laughing, she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet and into his arms. “You have country music playing up there?”
He pretended to be insulted by her query. “Blues, baby. Only the blues for me.”
Her toes sank into the plush carpet and she sank into Ethan’s embrace. His hand gripped her waist, then slid to her back to pull her closer. She felt feminine and unsure, but she didn’t want him to release her.
“I don’t know how to dance,” she admitted.
“I’m not that great at it, either,” he said. “But I can manage a few turns and the side-to-side swaying.”
His eyes were so expressive, so full of life. They could leap from anger to lust to boredom to amusement in mere moments, but it was these times that made her toes curl, the times when he stared at her with unabashed longing.
As he rocked back and forth, as his hips brushed hers and his palm pressed possessively against her hand, Mary experienced a feeling so powerful, so new it made her heart thump painfully in her chest. She was enjoying herself, with Ethan Curtis, the man who had forced her into—A man she should never enjoy herself with.
Her thoughts dropped away suddenly as Ethan quickened his pace, twirling her first to the right, then the left. With a sinful grin, he grasped both of her hands and gave her a gentle push back, then he turned her and pulled her into his body, so her back was pressed against his chest.
She glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled at the amusement in his eyes. “Tell anyone about this and I’m never dancing with you again.”
Laughing with delight, Mary let him sway them both to the right and left, then squealed when he dipped her. When he rolled her out toward the couch, she released him and dropped back on the brown leather cushions. Chuckling along with her, Ethan did, too. For a moment neither of them spoke, then they both turned to look at each other.
“We’d better be careful,” Ethan said.
“Why?” Mary asked breathlessly. “What do you mean?”
He reached over and brushed a strand of honey-colored hair from her cheek. “If we don’t watch our step we might have fun together—or worse, actually start liking each other.”
To Mary’s delight, the brunch fell on a glorious late-August day. The trees were starting to contemplate change, their green leaves making room for rich golds, ruby reds and pumpkin oranges. Mary had nixed the Cajun idea, but the pre-autumn Southern barn theme was there and looking fabulous. As she meandered through the guests, who had almost doubled in size since the last party, she took in her handiwork with a proud grin. The deck and surrounding land was decorated with an odd but interesting, contemporary rustic charm; hay bales in glass troughs like funky centerpieces, scarecrows dressed like runway models, Tom Sawyer-style rafts in the water, and on and on. Then there was the food. Pumpkin and sage soup in miniature pumpkins, fried catfish with a spicy green tomato relish, mustard greens with pancetta, watermelon and pecan pie tartlets.
Everyone seemed relaxed, the stuffy atmosphere of this crowd’s customary Saturday cocktail party forgotten. Diamonds still sparkled from ears, wrists and fingers, but the backdrop was denim and Ralph Lauren plaid.
Mary spotted five-star-inns’ Isaac and Emily Underwood coming toward her and smiled welcomingly. She knew that, as of last Monday, the couple were now Ethan’s clients. “Well, hello, there. Are you two enjoying yourselves?”
“Your creativity is astounding, Mary,” Isaac said, gesturing to the backyard.
“Thank you.”
“Yes, amazing,” Emily added.
Isaac dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Even though we don’t have to work, the feeling of success can bring great rewards, don’t you think?”
Mary’s brows drew together. Contrary to what the Underwoods believed was reality, Mary had to work for every penny. The Harringtons didn’t help her one bit, never had, nor had she ever asked them to.
“This is a great success,” Emily said, two-carat diamond studs sparkling in her ears. “Especially for Ethan. Invitations to his parties will be sought-after now.”
“Now?”
Heat spread across Emily’s face and she stumbled to explain. “Well, what I mean to say is…”
Isaac quickly covered for her. “Curtis is brilliant, and he has the client list to prove it, but as far as socializing…well, he’s not really one of us, you understand.”
She certainly did, and she had to resist the urge to grab the pumpkin out of Isaac’s hand and dump the contents over his head. Lucky for her and for them, the Underwoods spotted another group of snotty elitists over by the bar and excused themselves. Why did Ethan want to be a part of this world? she wondered, heading inside the house. She scanned the room looking for him, expecting to find him in the center of a group of wealthy people who were looking for free advice, but he wasn’t there. She sidled up to one of the waitstaff. “Have you seen Mr. Curtis?”
“I think he’s in the kitchen.”
“Alone?”
“No, there’s a full kitchen staff in there, Ms. Kelley.”
“I mean, was he with anyone? A guest?” she asked tightly. Like maybe a Tiffany—one F, two Ys?
The man shook his head. “Not that I saw.”
As she walked toward the kitchen, the sound of clanging pots and hustling staff was interspersed with a shrill, critical voice that Mary instantly recognized as her grandmother’s.
The door opened and as a mortified-looking waitress rushed out with a plate of food, Mary heard the older woman’s voice again. “You can take my family’s company, hire my granddaughter to act as your wife at parties and invite the top shelf as your guests, but that will never make you one of us.”
Interrupting the conversation didn’t sound like a good plan. She didn’t want to embarrass Ethan any further. So Mary watched through a crack in the door. The room was busy with waitstaff, chefs and to Mary’s horror, not only her grandmother, but two of her grandmother’s closest friends. Grace Harrington stood a few feet from Ethan, who had his back to the sleek Wolf range, her friends behind her like a scene from one of those movies about exclusive high school cliques.
“Breeding cannot be bought,” Grace continued, her tone spiteful and cruel. “Where and who you come from is in every movement you make. Make no mistake about it, Mr. Curtis, you wear your trailer-park upbringing like a second skin.”
The room stilled. The chefs stopped chopping, the waitstaff looked horrified as they tried to stare at anything but Ethan.
White-hot fury burned in Ethan’s eyes. “I know exactly where I come from, Mrs. Harrington, and I’m proud of it.”
“Is that so? Then why try so hard to impress us all?”
“My work makes enough of an impression to satisfy me. These events are a way to gain more clients. After all,” he said with a slow smile, “before I came along, Harrington Corp. was not only hemorrhaging money but about to lose seventy percent of their client base as well.”
Grace’s jaw dropped, and she looked as though she couldn’t breathe. Ditto with the geriatric sentinels behind her. Mary had never seen her grandmother bested before, and she felt oddly sorry for her, but knew the older woman had it coming to her. Grace Harrington could dish it out, and maybe now she would learn to take it.
Mary watched Ethan grab a beer from the counter and tip it toward the three some. “Good afternoon, ladies. I have every confidence that you can find the front door from here.”
And then he was coming her way, in ten seconds he’d bump right into her. Mary dropped back into a small alcove off the hallway and waited for him to leave the kitchen and pass by her. His jaw tight, his stride purposeful, he walked past her and in the opposite direction of the party. After waiting a moment for her grandmother and her friends to leave, Mary followed Ethan. She had a good idea where he’d be.
She climbed the stairs and walked down the hall, unsure of what she was going to say to him when she found him. The door to the nursery was closed, but that didn’t dissuade her.
Without knocking, she entered the room. Ethan was lying on his back on the floor, staring out the enormous bay window. Sunlight splashed over his handsome face, illuminating his pensive expression.
Mary sat beside him. Maybe he’d been right that day in his office, after their musicless dance, maybe they were becoming friends. God only knew why, after their history. But the fact was she understood him a little better now, understood what drove him. Her mother had felt some of the same feelings of not being good enough, not knowing where she belonged or who really cared about her for herself and not how much money she had.
“She’s right.”
Ethan’s words jarred her, brought her back to the present. “Who’s right?”
“Your grandmother. I’m not worth much more than the trailer I was born in.”
“That’s not exactly what she said.” Mary knew that she sounded as though she were defending Grace, when that’s not what she was trying to do at all. She knew her grandmother had been cold and cruel, but Ethan could be that way as well.
“That’s what she said, Mary. I’ve heard versions of that diatribe many times. From my ex-wife, from my own mother. Doesn’t seem to matter how hard I work.” He shrugged. “I’ll never escape it.”
“This self-pitying thing has to stop, Ethan.”
He sat up, stared at her with cold eyes. “What?”
“Why do you care?” she demanded.
“What?”
“Why do you care what any of them think?”
The anger dropped away, and he shook his head. Just kept shaking his head. “I have no idea.”
“Why can’t you be satisfied with the life you’ve created?”
The double meaning wasn’t lost on either of them, and in that moment, Mary knew it was just a matter of time before she confessed the truth about her pregnancy. She didn’t want to care about him. He’d forced her to make some abominable decisions…and yet…
She put a hand on his shoulder, and in less than an instant he covered it with his own. “Under that layer of pride and arrogance,” she said softly, “is a pretty decent guy. I can’t help but believe that.”
He leaned in until his forehead touched hers. “Even with everything that’s happened?”
“Yes.”
He tipped her chin up and with a soft groan his mouth found hers in a slow, drugging kiss. Mary opened to him, even suckled his bottom lip until he uttered her name and pulled her closer, his tongue mating with hers.
She protested when he pulled away from her, whispering a barely audible no.
With his face still so close to her own, he regarded her intently. “Are you pitying me, Mary?”
She wanted his mouth, his tongue, his skin against hers and no more questions. “Does it matter?” she uttered huskily.
A long moment of silence passed, and then Ethan groaned, a frustrated, animal-like sound. “No,” he muttered, closing his eyes, nuzzling her cheek until he found her mouth again.
Five
Despite the open window, the air in the room had become stiflingly warm. Mary’s limbs felt heavy, and she clung to Ethan for support. His mouth was hard on hers, his breath sweet and intoxicating. For a moment she wondered if she was drunk, but then realized she had been sipping seltzer water all morning. Mouth slanting, Ethan unleashed the full strength of his need, his tongue against hers, caressing the tip until Mary was breathless and limp. Whatever he wanted to do, she was a willing participant.
Without a word, Mary started unbuttoning her white blouse, her fingers shaking. Her skin needed to breathe, needed to be touched. As Ethan chuckled softly against her lips, she tugged away at her shirt, wishing she could just rip it off.
“Let me,” he uttered hoarsely.
“And this,” she practically begged, struggling with the hooks on her pale-pink bra.
“Tell me what you want, Mary.”
“You.”
“My weight on top of you? My chest brushing against your nipples?”
“Your mouth.”
His head was in the crook of her neck, his forehead nuzzling her, his teeth nipping at her skin. “On your mouth? On your breasts? Do you want me to suckle them like I did your tongue?”
“Yes,” came her ragged whisper.
Gently he pulled the straps over her shoulders, eased her bra to her waist. She felt as though she were falling, sliding down, down, until she landed against plush, fuzzy white carpet. Her back to the floor, Ethan poised on top of her, his dark blue eyes hungry, almost desperate, Mary struggled to catch her breath.
“Ethan,” she rasped.
Ethan paused, his body pulsing with heat. He’d never heard her say his name like that—desperately.
His body tight to the point of pain, Ethan slid his hand up her torso to her rib cage and gently cupped one breast. Instantly hungry for more, he brushed his thumb over her nipple until it stiffened into a rosy peak. His mouth watered. He’d tasted her before, but the memory had been little comfort over the past weeks.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, leaning forward into the warmth of her body, her skin, his mouth grazing the tender bud.
Gasping, she arched her back, her chest rising and falling rapidly, one hand fisting the carpet. Her skin was so hot, electric, and he couldn’t help himself, he covered her with his mouth and suckled deeply.
“Oh…” she uttered breathlessly, cupping her other breast. “Oh, Ethan, please.”
Ethan rooted between her ribs to her other breast, over her fingers until he found the sweet, taut peak in the center. Her body danced beneath his, her hips pumped as though he was inside her, and how he longed to be.
So caught up in the moment, Ethan gently sank his teeth into the pink flesh surrounding her nipple as he continued to flick the tight bud. Her breath quickened, and he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. He wanted to make her climax, just with his mouth on her breast, and she was close, so close. But then outside the window came the sounds of people laughing and talking, some loud enough to hear.
“Where do you think Curtis ran off to?” one said.
“Back to the office?” someone suggested, chuckling.
The conversation wasn’t lost on Mary or Ethan, and they stilled, looked at each other, their breathing labored. Then after a moment, Mary let out a frustrated sigh and rolled away from him.
Feeling like an ass, Ethan didn’t say anything as he watched her dress, but when she finally looked at him, pink-cheeked, slightly disheveled and, judging by her eyes, still on the verge of orgasm, he couldn’t stop himself.
“No farther?” he asked gently.
She shook her head, deep regret in her eyes, but from what, he wasn’t sure. “We have to get back to the party.”
“God, why?”
“They’re leaving.”
“I don’t care—”
“Yes, you do,” she said, coming to her feet, smoothing her blouse. “We need to make an appearance, say goodbye to those who remain. You don’t want people thinking that you completely disappeared.”
“I don’t give a damn what they think.” Desire still raged through him. He wanted to play caveman and drag her off to his bed and lock the door behind him. “I want to finish this.”
“Another time.”
He was about to tell her that he didn’t want to wait, but he knew that determined look on her face, knew better than to try to sway or push her. “I’m holding you to that,” he grumbled.
By the time they returned, separately of course, to the party, most of the guests had gone. There were a few stragglers milling about, and while Mary thanked and paid the staff, Ethan showed his face to the last of the guests.
He was in his office when Mary found him a half hour later.
“Well, the general consensus is that everyone had a good time,” she said.
“Everyone?” he asked pointedly, his gaze intense.
She bit her lip, which made his groin tighten painfully. “I should get going.”
“Stay until the end,” he said.
“This is the end. Everyone’s gone, even the wait and kitchen staffs have taken off.”
He sat back in his chair. “I meant stay until the end of the night…when it gets light outside and my housekeeper serves breakfast.”
“Ethan…”
“You could stay upstairs in my bed. Because you want to…this time.”
She sighed, let her eyes fall closed for a moment. When she opened them again, he saw the same look in her eyes as he had upstairs. She wasn’t finished with him or what they’d started, but she also wasn’t about to agree to stay with him, either. She shook her head. “I’m sorry.” Then turned and left the room.
Her ancient Betty Boop bedside lamp clicked on and Mary uttered a tired, “Man…”
Her father’s face, bed-worn and confused, stared down at her. “What are you doing here, lass?”
“Sleeping.”
“Why?”
She glanced at her matching Betty Boop clock, both it and the lamp presents from her parents for her twelfth birthday. “Because it’s four in the morning.”
Hugh sat on the bed and dragged a hand through his rumpled hair. “Why are you here and not in your apartment?”
Right. Mary glanced around her old bedroom. Not a thing out of place since she’d found her own apartment at nineteen. Same red-checked curtains and white dresser. She smiled halfheartedly when she spotted her Xanadu album in the corner by the old turntable.
Her father cleared his throat, and Mary looked at him sheepishly. “All right, I ran away.”
“Did you indeed?” he said, his shaggy brows lifting.
“From a boy.” Actually from a man, a gorgeous, fever-inducing man, who wanted her in his bed almost as much as he wanted the nonexistent child in her belly. Mary shook her head. What a mess. She burrowed deeper under her old, white down comforter.
“You won’t be telling me why you’re running from this boy, will you lass?”
Her lips pressed tightly together, she shook her head like a stubborn toddler. How could she possibly? Her dad wouldn’t understand what she’d done—the lengths to which she’d gone to protect him. Or worse yet, he’d understand perfectly, feel incredibly guilty and fall deeper into the chasm of despair he was already stuck in.
“You just need a bit of the old family house, do you?” he asked finally, shooing a tiny insect away from the lamp.
She gave him a grateful smile. “If you don’t mind, Pop.”
“You know you’re always welcome here, lass.” He paused for a moment, his eyes concerned. “I just don’t want you to be running away from your problems too often. You’ll never have time to sit down and take a breath if you do.”
“I know.”
“I love you, lass.”
“I love you too, Pop.”
When her father left the room, Mary lay back against her pillow and stared out at the same moon she’d watched change from sliver to crescent to full so many times when she was a kid. What had started out as the only foreseeable way to keep her father out of jail, or from a trial at the very least, had become a nightmare that she wanted to wake up from. She and Ethan had a meeting next week, and no matter how difficult it would be, she was not going to run away from the truth. She was going to tell him everything.
The wind off the lake whipped her hair from side to side, as though trying to make up its mind which direction to go. It was Sunday morning, a day Mary usually reserved for the newspaper, coffee and as many Danishes as she could eat without exploding, but when Ivan Garrison had called and asked her to see his boat, she’d readily accepted. The fact was, she was dying for some impersonal work to take her mind off Ethan.
After seeing his eighty-four-foot yacht, and having a quick discussion about where he’d like everything set up for the gala, the captain had asked her to take a sail on the very boat that he would be racing that day. Mary had been on very few sailboats in her time, and had been a little afraid of seasickness, but after popping a couple of Dramamine, she’d hopped aboard and found life on the water rather magnificent.
After they’d rounded the lake twice, Ivan headed back to the marina. Over the wind and the lapping of the water, Mary called, “This is great! I think your guests will be very impressed, Captain.”
Ivan grinned at her. “Not just by the gala, I’m hoping.”
Confused, she said, “I’m sorry?”
“I’ve decided to take your advice and make this a charity event.”
Mary nodded. So, the captain did have a soul after all. Shocking, he wasn’t just a Lamborghini-driving playboy. She’d have to tell Olivia.
“So all the entry fees will go to charity?” she called as Ivan maneuvered around in the marina, approaching the dock at a very slow speed.
“My financial advisors have told me that this will be a great tax write-off.”
So he wasn’t exactly Mother Teresa, but at least he had agreed to do something worthwhile. Maybe she wouldn’t mention this to Olivia.
“Have you decided which charity appeals to you?” she asked him.
“Cancer’s pretty popular.”
“True.”
Ivan slowly entered the slip, then placed the transmission in neutral and let the wind blow the boat back. “But which one to choose?” he called, securing the boat’s front dock line first. “Children? Lung? Breast?”
Mary removed her life vest and placed it beside her on the bench. “Well, how about the Cancer Research Institute? They pretty much cover it all.”
“Perfect.” Staring onto the dock, Ivan squinted, then frowned. “Is he waiting for you or me?”
Mary glanced up, saw what Ivan was seeing and felt her pulse jump inside her veins. Standing there, arms crossed and looking murderous, was Ethan. “That would be for me.”
