by Mae Clair
“Caleb?” Wyn’s voice jarred him back to the present. His brows were drawn in a suspicious frown. “Do you have a headache?”
“No.” Caleb shook the question aside, unwilling to admit the pain was still there, disheartened that he didn’t have the courage to tell Wyn he valued his friendship. He didn’t deserve it. Not after Crinkeshaw, not after Seth. “We should probably leave. Arianna and Lauren will be waiting.”
Wyn nodded, his expression abruptly sour.
“Yeah. They understand the value of being appreciated.”
* * * *
Arianna fidgeted, moving a tray of bacon-wrapped scallops for the third time. She didn’t know which was worse, the pinch of her black stiletto heels or the jittery energy that sent her flitting from hors d’oeuvre station to hors d’oeuvre station, rearranging the silver platters Daphne’s catering staff had taken such care to prepare. Her sister had overseen the preparation, then vanished in a breathy whirlwind, determined to find Seth in the ever-growing throng of Lauren’s steadily arriving guests.
A half-hour into the party, the house was crowded with costumed visitors. The mingled din of laughter, conversation, and the tinkling of cocktail glasses floated from room to room. Arianna only knew half of the people she saw, others unrecognizable behind painted masks or heavy makeup. Dracula was chatting to Little Red Riding Hood and Cleopatra in front of a blush marble fireplace. Nearby, Batman and a circus clown were in deep conversation over a bowl of spinach dip.
Arianna snatched a carrot stick from the table and nervously nibbled the end. With a wince, she shifted her weight, silently cursing the four-inch stilettos. Her feet were killing her and the evening had barely started.
“Hey, girlfriend, there’s a party going on, you know.” Lauren appeared at her shoulder, sipping a margarita in a wide-mouthed crystal glass. As always, she looked poised and svelte, model sexy in her tuxedo bunny outfit. By contrast, Arianna felt horribly self-conscious. The racy black-and-white costume molded her curves like a second skin. With a push-up bra, black fishnet stockings, plush bunny ears, bow tie and white satin wrist cuffs, it left little to the imagination. Worst of all, the cottony puff attached to her bottom formed a perky bunny tail and drew attention to her rear end.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into dressing like this. My butt is hanging out.”
Lauren dipped a pink fingernail into her drink and sucked alcohol off the tip. “Wait until Caleb sees you. I bet Blond-and-Beautiful has a horde of sizzling fantasies. No way does a guy look that hot and not score touchdowns in bed.”
“That’s not funny, Lauren.” Normally up for her friend’s off-color teasing, the comment left Arianna edgy. She hadn’t talked to Caleb since she’d stumbled over the photograph of him from 1863. The discovery still felt like an impossible dream, especially when she factored in the earth-shattering shot of his father.
“I thought Caleb would be here by now.” She twisted her hands and craned her neck to see over the thickening crowd. “Wyn too.”
Someone called her name, waving a greeting from across the room. Arianna had a quick impression of a bobby-socked blonde in a bright yellow poodle skirt. Before she could motion in return, a gnome-like creature shoved in beside her, hunching over the hors d’oeuvres, greedily heaping meatballs and crab-stuffed mushroom caps onto his plate.
“You need a drink, Ari. I don’t know why you’re so keyed up.” Lauren caught her arm and steered her from the table. Smiling brightly, she waved at the blonde in the poodle skirt. “Can you believe that’s Connie Harrison, dressed as a teenager of all things? It must have taken a pound of cold cream to smooth the wrinkles from her face.”
“You’re dreadful.”
“Tell me you didn’t think the same thing.”
“I didn’t even know who she was. Do you really know all of these people, Lauren?”
“Most of them.” Her friend flashed a plastic smile and finger-waved at a mummy who blew a showy kiss from across the room. “I think that’s Tom from the coffee shop. He makes a pass at me every time I stop for a latte. God, I hope Wyn gets here soon. Two more margaritas and my standards will hit rock bottom. I might actually end up dancing with Rick.”
Arianna gave a start. “Have you seen him yet?”
“Mister Showboat? I’m sure he’ll wait until the last minute, then make a grand entrance with some simpering blonde twenty-year-old draped on his arm.” She sipped her drink. “I swear the only thing that man loves is himself. I don’t know why I’m still friends with him. Oh, I did see Lucas.” She brightened at the memory. “He came with Lily Fey, that cute little librarian. He’s dressed as a Pharaoh, damn sexy too. I had no idea the man had such great legs.”
Arianna chuckled. “Okay, that I might have to see.”
“Well, Cathy from my shop is running around made up like a seventies pulp tabloid reporter. She’s got an old Polaroid instamatic and is snapping pictures. Maybe you can get her to take one of Lucas for old time’s sake.”
“I’d rather have one of Caleb.” Even as she said it, Arianna winced. Photographs and Caleb were a hot-button topic in her mind.
“Speak of the devil.” Lauren parted with a low whistle. “I’m not sure which is sexier, yours or mine.”
Arianna followed her gaze toward the doorway, unprepared when her heart did a backward somersault. Wyn looked smoldering in his pirate outfit, but she only had eyes for the tall, blond-haired man at his side. Even if she hadn’t seen the photograph, something would have told her the uniform wasn’t a costume.
He wore it with the same blatant authoritative air she imagined of a true Federal officer. For one crazy off-kilter moment, it was as if time came to a bone-crushing halt. In that quicksilver instant of recognition, everything about him made sense. His manners, speech, overly refined gentility, even his archaic sense of chivalry. Looking at him across the room was like gazing through the veil of a century. For the first time, she saw him as he truly was.
In the passing of a single heartbeat, the fragile spell shattered. His face tightened with anger and, before she could draw a breath to say hello, he was across the room, bodily wrenching her from Lauren’s side.
“What the hell are you wearing? It’s indecent!”
“What?” Rocked by his hostility, the nervous energy she’d juggled all night exploded in anger. “You might try complimenting me instead of biting off my head. There are plenty of men here who think I look damn good.”
“That’s what I’m concerned about.” He started to unbutton his overcoat. “You need to cover up.”
“Caleb, this is the twenty-first century.” She hadn’t intended to go for his jugular the moment he stepped through the door, but he’d initiated the battle. “I’m supposed to be a Playboy bunny. You’re carrying on like it’s 1863.”
He blanched.
Ha! Colonel DeCardian had not expected that one.
His fingers froze on the brass buttons below his collar.
“You have seen a Playboy bunny before, haven’t you?” Twisting her torso, Arianna angled her hip, glancing over her shoulder at the fluffy white puff attached to her bottom. In the four-inch stilettos, she was almost as tall as he. “Lauren and I thought it would be cute to dress alike.” She wiggled her rear end. “What do you think of my tail?”
“Stop it.”
Around them a few people had stopped to stare, alerted by the subtle aggression in their body posture. The gnome was still stuffing his face, but his beady little eyes were glued to the backside she’d made a spectacle of flaunting. Caleb shot the offender a glare and the man shrank away, finding greater interest in a platter of coconut grilled shrimp.
Nearby, Wyn and Lauren talked quietly, both slanting wary glances in their direction. Even Connie the bobby-soxer had stopped to stare, more intent on Caleb than what Tom, the mummy, was trying to tell her through a mouthful of quiche Lorraine. It suddenly dawned on Arianna that most of the women in the room were looking at Caleb.
And why n
ot?
As irritated as she was, she couldn’t ignore the fact he was gorgeous. Drop-dead-sinfully-no-apologies-gorgeous.
There’d always been something inexplicably commanding about him, a masterful aura, raw and wildly sexual, but in the uniform that trait was magnified ten-fold. His long hair, highlighted with platinum, gold and ash, made a striking contrast against the deep navy of his hat, intensifying the heat of his gaze. With minimum effort, he made a woman swoon.
Except that she didn’t feel like swooning. For Lauren’s sake, she rummaged up an olive branch, not wanting to cause a scene at her friend’s party. “I think we’re drawing attention.”
He scowled, not bothering to look. “Is there someplace we can talk privately?” His eyes dipped to her legs, fixating on the slinky black fishnet stockings and spike heels. “Someplace where every deviant isn’t undressing you with his eyes?”
“Present company included?” Pivoting on her heel, Arianna headed for the nearest hallway. Let him chew on that! Her back was straight, her head held high, but her irritation was tempered by a sexually-charged undercurrent. She heard the barely-there tread of his footsteps behind her and knew the white cotton puff of her tail bobbed up and down on her rear end. It was easy to imagine his gaze sliding over her, forge-hot with a dangerous combination of anger and desire.
Eventually, the sound of voices and laughter faded behind them. Arianna rounded a corner, pushing open the door to a mid-sized den. Decorated in bold splashes of black, green and candy-apple red, the room overlooked a small brick terrace. Arianna paced to an old-fashioned desk, where she fingered a stack of mint green stationary and a silver letter opener in an attempt to quell her nervous energy. Behind her, Caleb closed the door. What exactly did she say to a man who was over one-hundred-and-fifty years old?
By the way, I found this really interesting photograph…
Whirling to face him, she clung to her anger.
“If you’re done demeaning my outfit, would you mind explaining why you suddenly decided to act like an arrogant male chauvinist before you even bothered to say hello!”
“Male chauv–” Caleb frowned as though unfamiliar with the term. He took a restless step forward, the edge in his eyes warning he was far from immune to her skimpy attire. “Damn it, woman, I don’t want other men leering at you the way that little twit did. Look at you.” He flailed an arm in her direction. “You look like a–”
“What?” she challenged, daring him to say the word. She stepped closer, hands on her hips, and glared up at him. In the tottering stiletto heels they were almost on eye-level.
The heat of his gaze engulfed her, hot, angry and possessive. It sent a shivery stab of fear deep into her belly. If he wanted her, she wasn’t certain she could resist. Not this time.
He was jealous, outright livid that another man had dared to look at her with lust. As much as his behavior infuriated her, another part enjoyed the idea she could make him react irrationally. Caught up in the crackling test of wills, she completely forgot about the photograph. The air thrummed between them, charged by restrained aggression.
Her mouth went dry. “Tell me what you were going to say.”
“To hell with it.” In one swift move, he seized her wrist and dragged her against him.
Arianna yelped in surprise, bodily bumping against his chest. The shock of contact exploded like a bolt of lightning. She caught the blue-smoke glint of his eyes and felt the forceful scrape of his fingers as he fisted a hand in her hair, locking her in place. His mouth descended on hers, molding them together. Reason spun away in a kaleidoscope of upside-down sensation. She struggled to breathe while he kissed without apology, domineering and hungry, giving as much as he took.
“Don’t.” She wedged her arms against his chest.
“You want me to.”
Her token resistance shattered like a pane of fragile glass. The feel of his lips crushed her resolve and she melted against him, aware she’d lost all sense of time and place. There was only his kiss, the demanding warmth of his mouth. The phantom scrape of his hair against her knuckles where her fingertips edged beneath the stiff collar of his uniform. She felt the press of his thigh, corded with muscle, wedged between her legs, the male length of him swollen and hard against her hip.
He dipped his mouth, nuzzling her neck. “I want you.”
A bold statement, different this time. At her townhouse, he’d made no secret he wanted her, but he’d been able to control his desire. Now passion outstripped reason as if he was controlled by something animalistic and need-driven.
Arianna tried to think rationally. “Caleb. Stop. We have to stop.”
“I know that.” His voice was muffled against her throat, the trail of his lips arousing. His fingers scraped her back, intimately tracing the curve of her spine, pressing with just enough force to make her whimper with need. He sucked at the pulse in her throat, teasing it to frantic delirium. His hand shifted to her backside, stroking and squeezing with a boldness that left her shuddering in pleasure. Cupping her bottom, he pressed his swollen erection between her legs.
Arianna moaned.
She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Complications, questions and photographs forgotten, all she could think about was surrendering to the fire of his lips, the achingly skilled stroke of his hands.
“Kiss me,” she begged.
He groaned at the breathless invitation, locking his mouth over hers, the intensity of his need like the unchecked roar of open flame. She knew he’d crossed an imaginary line, a threshold of restraint he’d drawn in his mind. She sensed the shift in his breathing, the hotly wired tension in his body. Part of her knew she should back off, but the other hungered for the feel of his arms around her, the stroke of his fingers on her sensitized flesh.
“I want you,” he professed again, nipping the corner of her mouth, pausing only long enough to fling his hat aside. He ducked closer, teasing and plundering with his tongue, needing and hungering to kiss as much as he longed to touch.
She loved that about him. That he wanted to kiss her over and over again. She’d dated men in the past who only wanted to fondle and squeeze, but Caleb enjoyed making her tremble by the sheer power of his mouth on hers.
She grazed her fingertips across the brass buttons on his chest. He’d unleashed something primal inside of her, something unrestrained and lustful. Buried beneath the passion lingered something deeper still, something shocking. She was falling in love with him. Tumbling head over heels for a man she knew nothing about.
If he kept kissing her, she’d end up locking the door and suggest they move to the couch. No way could they make love in Lauren’s den, at Lauren’s party. Oh, her friend would gleefully toast her impertinence, but it wasn’t going to happen.
“Caleb.”
Someone knocked on the door.
Arianna jerked, wrenching backward as the barrier swung open. A giggling woman in a feathered headdress and a man wearing a Keystone cop outfit stumbled into the room.
“Oh!” The woman looked comically aghast when she realized what they’d interrupted. A pair of exaggeratedly plucked eyebrows winged high on her forehead. “I’m sorry! We, um…we were looking for…” Tittering, she glanced to the man for help.
“The bathroom.” His eyes raked over Arianna, suggesting the couple was more interested in a bed.
A slow burn crept up Caleb’s neck. “You took a wrong turn.”
The woman’s gaze widened, dropping to the telltale bulge in his pants. “Oh my! Let’s not rush things. We could make it a foursome.”
Arianna flushed, but the woman only licked her lips. Realizing he was outmatched in more ways than one, the man grabbed her arm and propelled her from the room.
“Damn.” Caleb slammed the door behind them.
Arianna laughed as the humor of the situation rolled over her. “I think you made an impression.”
“You find it funny?” The growl of warning was back in his voice, but something playful flitte
d through his eyes. “You did this to me. You and that confoundedly indecent costume.” He tugged at his pants, trying to adjust the material straining over his crotch. “Did you see that mannerless rube leer at you?”
“Mannerless rube?” She chuckled. “I was too stuck on the woman ogling your, um…your…” Degenerating into laughter, she motioned with her hand.
“That’s enough.” His voice deepened into a murmur and he pulled her closer, grazing her temple with his lips. “Women shouldn’t speak of such things.”
She slid her hands behind his neck, staring up at him, her fingers twining in the white-gold edges of his hair. “I think you secretly like when I ‘speak of such things.’ I bet you’d like it even better if I touched you.”
His nostrils flared. “Don’t play with fire, Arianna.”
It was a dangerous line to tread, but excitement held her trapped, her heart thumping. “You want me, don’t you?”
“What do you think?” He threaded a hand into her hair, tightening his fingers until she couldn’t move. She expected him to kiss her, but he only stared down, raw desire smoldering in his eyes.
“I’m going to make love to you, Annie. Not now, maybe not tonight, but I am going to make love to you.”
She shivered.
“And when I do…” His voice dropped, growing huskier. With his free hand, he gripped her chin, dragging the pad of his thumb over her moist bottom lip. “I promise you’ll want more.”
She swallowed hard, attempting to squeak out a suitable protest. “That’s arrogant of you.”
“No.” Bending, he kissed her gently, tenderly. “I think I’m falling in love with you, and I simply can’t imagine ever wanting to stop.”
Chapter 15
Arianna walked in a fog, dazed by Caleb’s declaration. She’d been careful not to admit her feelings even after he’d professed his. There were still too many unanswered questions and unexplained secrets. In that topsy-turvy jumble of emotional complications, how would she ever find the right moment to ask him about the photograph? More importantly, did it matter? If they were happy, what was one picture more or less?