Like the First Time

by Francis Ray

  “Money changes people.” His eyes went cold. “It’s best to protect yourself going in.”

  Claire wondered if he was thinking of his ex-wife. The newspapers had reported that she hadn’t signed a pre-nup, but because of the adultery that she hadn’t been able to deny, and the short length of the marriage, she’d gotten very little. “All right.”

  Gray’s lips pursed in exasperation. “People will use you, Claire, if you aren’t careful. Believe me, I know.”

  Her heart went out to him. What must it be like to always be on guard? Just as she had, people probably looked at the wealth and position Gray had, but not at the heavy responsibility he carried. “I’m sorry.”

  He looked at her sharply. “For what?”

  “For being one more person who thought of using you to help themselves.”

  His hand closed over hers again. He felt the leap in her pulse and refused to believe it was anything except nerves. “You quickly proved me wrong. You want to work for what you want, not have it handed to you.” Casually, but reluctantly, he released her and went back to his meal. “Bliss will be good for you.”

  Gathering her scattered thoughts, Claire said, “I think it will be successful.”

  He looked her in the eyes. “That’s not what I meant.” He went on at her puzzled look. “You’ve always been shy. I remember asking you to join us for a swim or to go to the beach, but you always refused.”

  “I wanted to,” she blurted, then gasped at her revealing blunder.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Because my brother said all you wanted to do was get in my panties, she thought, staring at her salad. She’d been shocked and so pleased by the invitation. She couldn’t wait to tell Derek. He’d quickly set her straight. There was only one reason why the grandson of a millionaire would want to date the daughter of the hired help.

  “Claire?” Gray said gently.

  She looked up at him. There had always been something compelling and comforting about Gray. It was the intense way he looked at you. “I didn’t have a swimsuit.”

  “Do you have one now?” he asked softly without missing a beat.

  She had to swallow before she could say, “Yes.”

  “Good. When would you like to go swimming?”

  She was tempted, but there was no way she was going to let Gray see her in a swimsuit after seeing how gorgeous Brooke had been in hers. “Thank you, but I’m pretty busy at the moment.”

  His dark eyes narrowed for a split second, as if he didn’t believe her. “You’re going to give me a complex if you keep turning me down.”

  Claire tried to decipher whether he was still being the friendly mentor or something different, and decided to take it as the former. “I’m just trying to ensure that your faith in me and Bliss is justified.”

  Gray sat back, his face closed. “I’ve taken enough of your time. Thanks for a wonderful lunch.” He rose to his feet.

  Claire slowly followed, feeling as if she had just shut the door on something wonderful. “You haven’t had dessert yet. It’s pecan pie with vanilla ice cream. Your favorite.”

  “Perhaps some other time.” Gray stuck out his hand. “Goodbye.”

  Claire’s throat clogged. She extended her hand. His closed warmly over hers. “Goodbye.”

  Releasing her hand he left the dining room and headed for the front door. She watched him with an uneasy feeling that he wasn’t coming back. Somehow the luncheon had gone terribly wrong.

  He opened the door and stepped out into the hot sun and went down the walk toward his black Porsche.

  “Gray, wait!”

  Shoving his hands into his pockets, he turned. “Yes?”

  Claire could read nothing in his enigmatic gaze. She caught herself chewing on her lip, then stopped. She’d always been quiet, but she had a feeling this time if she stayed quiet she’d lose something precious. “The painters should be finished by Tuesday. I’d like to show you the shop.”

  “Thank you, but my schedule is rather busy.”

  Formal, polite enough to cut and leave you bleeding, he turned and started toward his car again.

  “I look terrible in a swimsuit.”

  Claire had clamped her eyes shut the moment she’d blurted the heart-wrenching words. She prepared herself for his callous laughter, the sound of his car starting, but nothing prepared her for the gentle touch of his hand on her chin. Just two fingers that stroked, then lifted.

  Her eyes slowly opened. He was so close. His gaze riveting. “I’d ask you to let me be the judge of that if I thought you’d change your mind, so how about I meet you around eleven Tuesday at Bliss, then we can have lunch. I’ll clear my schedule.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Until then.” He turned and went to his car. Claire’s hand touched her chin as he drove away. Careful, Claire, she warned herself. Gray was just being nice. Just because he hadn’t liked being rejected didn’t mean he felt anything special for her. She just had to keep remembering that.

  * * *

  They were worse than she had imagined.

  “Wish I had been here yesterday,” Lorraine said, regret in her voice.

  “I wish I hadn’t been,” Brooke groaned. Seeing the pictures again was worse than last night when Claire had e-mailed them to her.

  Lorraine’s gaze remained glued to the computer screen. “I’ll never forgive Bessie Hendrix for calling an unnecessary meeting to discuss a menu change for the annual banquet.”

  “I sent John a download and faxed a release form yesterday,” Claire told them. “I have yet to hear from him, but I checked and he has read the e-mail.”

  Brooke’s flesh heated at the thought of him seeing the pictures, reliving as she had relived last night, their bodies molded to each other. She’d forgotten their bet five seconds after John buried his face in the crook of her neck. The sneaky bastard.

  “If he returns the release, the hard part will be deciding which to use,” Claire said thoughtfully. “Of course I still need to get a photo of Brooke by herself.”

  “How about this one?” Lorraine pointed on the screen. “Maybe we could crop John.”

  Brooke felt a spiral of heat shoot through her. Her head was thrown back, her knees bent with John between them, his hands on her thigh.

  “I think this one should go on the site as is.” Claire turned to Brooke. “What do you think?”

  “I think I was crazy to do the photo shoot.” She straightened. “I need a glass of water.”

  The women looked at each other, smiled and nodded. That photo was definitely going on the site.

  Brooke decided on raspberry lemonade instead of water. Eyes closed, she rolled the glass loaded with ice across her forehead. She’d pulled some crazy stunts in her life, but none had backfired on her so badly. Who would have ever thought she’d be attracted to the silent, arrogant type? Or that he’d have hands that sent shivers through her body and make her crave more?

  Her eyes opened and she gulped her drink. No man had ever gotten the best of her. She’d always been able to hold the edge. Even with Randolph. She had cared for him, but she was honest enough to admit he’d hurt her pride more than her heart when he dumped her. And what did that say about her?

  And she knew how little John thought of her.

  “You don’t know me,” she said aloud, then groaned. Now he had her talking to herself. The man was a menace. Thank goodness they didn’t have to do any more photos. And if she had her way the ones Lorraine and Claire were so pleased with would never go up on Bliss’s Web site.

  She brightened. Claire was a pushover at times. All Brooke had to say was that she felt uncomfortable … which was the truth … with them being on the site and Claire would let her redo them. With another man, of course. Delighted with her plan, Brooke rinsed the glass and put it in the sink. Hurrying back to the family room where Claire had moved the computer, she accidentally brushed against a basket on the counter, sending it and its contents spilling to the floor.


  “Shoot!”

  Bending, she began picking the letters up. Her eyes caught the return addresses. She realized what the letters were. Bills. It didn’t take much to see that Claire was behind on paying them. Claire had never said a word. She just worked hard to get the Bliss products out, to help Brooke and Lorraine realize their dreams.

  Claire clearly hadn’t had an easy time of it, but she was still resilient enough to fight and not be bitter. Bliss was their way out. Was she that insecure, to let a man intimidate her and spoil all of their chance for success? Pushing to her feet, Brooke replaced the bills and the basket and went to the den.

  “I had a great idea.” She gestured toward the picture that was still up on the screen and was gratified when her body only shivered. “Let’s turn the photo around and focus back on the woman, as Claire suggested earlier. What if the woman is not responding to the man’s touch so much as to the products he’s smoothing on her body? It’s the products that put that look on her face. The man is immaterial. We’ll call that line BTS.”

  “BTS?” Claire repeated, a frown working its way across her brow.

  “Better Than Sex,” Brooke explained. Claire’s mouth hung open. Lorraine smiled and nodded.

  “With African American and Puerto Rican blood, my father and his brothers are about as macho as they come. My single uncles love women and if one told them that she had a product that made her feel better than sex, they’d stand on their heads to prove her wrong.”

  “So the woman in a relationship would get the benefit of her man’s added attention, and the one not in a relationship would benefit from the products themselves,” Lorraine mused aloud.

  “Exactly,” Brooke said, getting into her plan. It would also send a message to John that he wasn’t all that. “We’ve already used the essential oils in the products and affixed the ingredients labels. We’ll give them lush, exotic names like meringue-whipped body cream or soufflé moisturizing bath and shower gel.”

  “They sound like food. The women won’t know whether to eat them or apply them,” Claire said, a frown darting across her brow.

  Brooke’s grin was pure sin. “Yeah. If they have a man in their life, he can do both.”

  “Oh, my,” Claire said, but she was grinning.

  * * *

  John scrubbed his shaky hand over his face as he sat in front of the computer screen Sunday night.

  After a full day with the children and church, he’d finally had a chance to download the photos Claire had sent. But as the first photo materialized, he admitted he had purposely waited to view them. He’d had a feeling they would go straight to his gut. He’d been right.

  Brooke had been all over him like a heat rash. He wished she was all over him right now. He’d wanted to rattle her and had ended up being the one rattled. Her body might seem fragile, but she was resilient and supple, her skin as soft as velvet. He’d dared to taste and had felt the punch all the way to his toes.

  The lady took no prisoners.

  He looked at the picture of both of them on their knees, his arms wrapped around her, her head on his shoulder. Lust hit him hard. He couldn’t look at them without remembering that he wanted her until he ached. A part of his mind had kept it together for the simple reason he’d enjoyed touching her, feeling her response to him which she’d been unable to control. He wondered what it would take to push her beyond that control?

  “Daddy.”

  John shot up from his chair, almost tipping it over in his haste to stand. “Amy, what’s the matter? I put you to bed an hour ago.”

  “I’m thirsty,” she said, rubbing her eyes. Amy hated going to bed.

  John scooped her up in his arms, careful to block the computer screen behind him in his corner office in the den. He’d set it up there so he could keep an eye on the children while they did homework or read. He wasn’t much on television.

  “Let’s get you some water, then you’re back to bed.”

  “Whatcha doing?”

  Innocence and love stared up at him from Amy’s big brown eyes which reminded him so much of her mother. He wasn’t getting tangled with a woman who was only out for her own good. The children were already fascinated with Brooke and had asked about her as soon as he’d picked them up yesterday. Thankfully he’d had a cold shower by then and no longer felt like knocking his head against the wall. He’d been able to answer in a reasonable tone. He’d told them she was busy with the business and he’d take them to the shop when it opened.

  When Brooke wasn’t there, he silently added. Brooke was definitely off limits.

  “Nothing important. Nothing at all,” he finally answered. There was no way he was going to let whatever it was he was feeling for Brooke go any further. “Let’s get that water and get you back into bed.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Hamilton had a lot of time to think while he was gone.

  Although he saw travel as a necessary part of his business, he didn’t enjoy being away from his family and seldom left his hotel if it wasn’t business related. He much preferred to stay in his room, order room service and work on his current project. In his years as owner of Corporate Revitalization LLC, based in Charleston, he hadn’t always been able to solve all his clients’ problems, but that was to be expected. However, the number was low enough that he remained one of the top turnaround experts in the country.

  So why couldn’t he turn his own marriage back around?

  Hamilton glanced out the window as the cab wound its way through his affluent, tree-studded neighborhood. Every two- or three-story house was immaculate with sweeping flowerbeds and lush St. Augustine grass. There were no junk cars rusting at the curb, no patches of dirt dotting sun-baked grass in the front yard, no faded, dingy curtains on dirty windows or pieces of mismatched furniture inside that no one else wanted. He’d worked hard to leave that life behind and take care of his family the way his parents never had.

  Hamilton’s hand flexed on the knee of his charcoal Valentino trousers. Neither of his parents had had time for him. He was someone to cook the meals or a way to get government assistance, but never someone to love. He’d sworn that his children would never have to be ashamed of him or wear hand-me-down clothes or go to bed cold or hungry. He’d succeeded with the one woman who always had faith in him, the one woman he loved desperately. But now he wasn’t enough.

  “Here you are.”

  Hamilton glanced up and saw that the cab had come to a stop in the circular driveway in front of the house. He’d bought the spectacular two-story mansion with its gracefully arched windows and four fireplaces as a twentieth wedding anniversary gift. Lorraine had loved the house on sight, but had said it was too expensive. He’d put a contract on the house that very day and redoubled his efforts to grow his business. His family would not have to do without.

  “Sir, this is the address you wanted, isn’t it?” the cabbie asked, his arm on the back of the front seat as he turned to look at Hamilton.

  “Yes.” Hamilton got out of the cab and pulled his wallet from the inside pocket of his double-breasted suit. He handed the driver the fare and a generous tip. Picking up his suitcase, he went up the three flagstone steps. Unzipping the side pocket of his smaller carry-on, he took out the house key on a gold chain with a picture of Lorraine and their children grinning at him. It had been a present when he went into business for himself and began traveling so much. They’d said they always wanted him to remember them waiting at home for him.

  His hands closed over the picture. That had changed. The children were gone and if he wasn’t careful Lorraine would be also. He stuck his key into the lock and opened the double door. Usually Lorraine would be there, but now he wasn’t sure what to expect. He’d called her as usual, but both had been careful to skirt around the issue of her shop. In the past, they’d always talked over their problems, but he wasn’t sure about this time. Lorraine was displaying that stubborn side of her personality that he had forgotten. The same one that had allowed
her to defy her parents to marry him. He just hoped and prayed she wasn’t beginning to regret that decision.

  He stepped into the wide, white marble-tiled foyer, unaware that he was holding his breath. He paused, listening. She wasn’t there. The loss hit him hard. Head bowed, he slowly started toward the stairs.

  “Hamilton.”

  He whirled and saw her. His heart thudded with sheer joy. She was rushing toward him, her face radiant and happy. It wasn’t too late. She came into his arms just as she always had. His arms tightened as they always had.

  He came to a quick decision. He’d bide his time and let her see for herself how foolhardy her venture was. He’d hate for her to fail, but she’d get over it. However, he didn’t think he would get over losing her.

  “I missed you.”

  “Not as much as I missed you.”

  Tucking her arm through his, she started toward the kitchen. “I was in the garden cutting flowers for the table.” Picking up the basket overflowing with vibrant pink, yellow and white blossoms she’d left on the sofa table, she tried not to show her nervousness. She and Hamilton had to talk. “Have a seat. After I put the flowers in a vase, we can eat.”

  “Let me wash up and I’ll help.”

  She watched Hamilton loosen his tie, remove his suit coat, then wash his hands over the kitchen sink all the while trying to gauge his mood. Perhaps she should wait until after dinner to tell him about the store’s progress. Taking a diamond-cut crystal vase from the cabinet, she began arranging the roses, zinnias and cornflowers. “How did it go?”

  “Well, I think.” Opening the oven, Hamilton took out the standing rib roast and placed it on the waiting rack on the countertop. “They finally believed me when I said now isn’t the time for expansion, not with the tight economy. There’ll be some layoffs and they’ll have to tighten their belt, but they should be able to stay afloat and after the next six months begin to see a small profit.”

  Lorraine placed the bouquet on the table with hands she had to force to remain steady. “But aren’t some companies expanding and doing well?”