by Amy DeLuca
“I went outside to get some air,” Kristal said. “Everything okay?”
“No. Everything is not okay,” Margot mocked her choice of words. “The emcee from the local radio station is intoxicated, and the live auctioneer hasn’t arrived yet. The auction is supposed to begin in five minutes! If we don’t start on time, people will leave before the auction even happens, and the night will be a total failure.”
“What can I do to help?” Kristal asked.
Margot’s arms flew out to the side and bounced up and down, making her resemble a flustered chicken.
“I don’t know. I’m going to get the emcee some strong black coffee. You can… call the auctioneer’s cell phone. Here.”
She shoved a business card at Kristal before turning to stalk away in her four-inch stiletto heels. Kristal felt bad for her. Though they weren’t exactly close, she knew the event was important to her father’s wife.
Margot had put a lot of work into it, spending long hours every day away from home coordinating things, in spite of her husband’s condition. Perhaps because of it.
Kristal had tried to be understanding about that—people dealt with stress and grief in different ways. Margot’s approach seemed to consist of plenty of self-care—long lunches with her girlfriends and lavish shopping trips.
She’d always been a firm believer in money buying happiness.
Recently, she’d shut down a boutique in the Bowen’s Wharf shopping district and spent sixty thousand dollars in one trip on haute couture and jewelry. Kristal wasn’t even sure she wanted to know how much Margot had spent over the years on cosmetic procedures.
While Richard Bianco had gone gray and looked every minute of his sixty-four years, Margot was obsessed with looking young. Kristal had always thought her a very attractive woman, but Margot was never quite satisfied. She seemed to consider physical appearance a competition sport, and her opponents were all other women—including her stepdaughter.
Kristal had first noticed the friction the year she’d turned fourteen, when her body had begun to develop. Margot had remarked on her “childbearing hips” and attributed them to Kristal’s mother, who in her words, had been “pretty in a common, middle-class way.”
The offhand cruel remarks had increased as Kristal had matured and begun attracting the notice and casual compliments of Margot’s male acquaintances. But the things she said were never egregious enough for Kristal to mention them to her father.
He wasn’t around enough to witness the animosity, and he loved them both and wanted so desperately for his “best girls” to get along and be friends. Kristal hated to disappoint him.
She would much rather have had a mother figure than someone determined to be mistaken as her sister, no matter how many years passed. And as far as Kristal cared, Margot could keep the “Fairest of Them All” title.
Well, whatever gets her through the day.
Kristal only hoped her stepmother was keeping an eye on the household finances. Maintaining and staffing a house the size of the one her father had built twenty-five years ago on Bellevue Avenue was no small thing—not to mention the taxes—and the task had fallen to Margot when her husband had suffered the stroke.
Kristal had volunteered to take the financial stuff off her hands—her work at the Art Guild had honed her skills in that area—but Margot had insisted she could handle it and that it wasn’t Kristal’s role. So Kristal had focused on the things she could help out with, filling in as her father’s companion and nurse too whenever the visiting home care nurse wasn’t around.
Hopefully after tonight, with the foundation ball behind her, Margot would be more attentive to Daddy. Kristal had no doubt spending more time with his wife would boost her father’s spirits.
Kristal placed the call to the auctioneer, who answered on the first ring and told her traffic on I-95 had been horrendous, assuring her he was only minutes away. She was about to slip the phone back into her evening bag when the text notification sounded.
Yes! It was from Harry.
-Hey beautiful. It’s time for hide and seek. Go ahead and sneak upstairs to the lilac bedroom, and I’ll meet you in 5. Don’t let anyone see you. Turn out the lights when you get there.
He’d added a comical grinning devil emoji to the end, making her giggle.
Kristal let out a breath, relieved to finally hear from her boyfriend and frankly a little surprised by his proposal.
Since her father’s stroke, Harry had been acting distant. She knew what it was about. Her life wasn’t the only one adversely affected by her father’s stroke.
Harry was dealing with the sudden loss of his mentor and idol, not to mention the increased workload her dad’s medical leave had caused him.
But his text indicated a return of the old, flirtatious, fun Harry she’d fallen for. He probably thought she’d be tickled at the idea of playing a “game” during this fancy party, and you know… she was. It was exactly what she needed. A welcome escape from the crowd, from Margot, from the never-ending stress-fest her life had become lately. She couldn’t wait.
Peering around surreptitiously, she headed for the staircase, feeling giddy and quite daring.
Not that anyone would care about seeing her go upstairs—the second floor was open to party guests tonight. But just knowing what she’d be doing upstairs—rendezvousing with her handsome boyfriend for some stolen kisses—made Kristal feel like she was back in high school again.
She’d explored Marble House several times before, listening to the informative self-guided tour recording, so she knew exactly where the lilac bedroom was.
Featuring a circular ceiling painting of Athena, it had once belonged to Alva Vanderbilt herself. Turning right at the top of the stairs, she tiptoed down the long hallway as anticipation turned her stomach into a bouncy house.
Finally reaching the room, she checked up and down the hallway once more, just to be sure she hadn’t been spotted.
Then she pushed open the door, stepped inside, and flicked off the light switch, glimpsing Harry’s dark hair and the back of his tux before everything went pitch black. He must have been eager too. He’d beaten her there.
He uttered a sound of surprise at the sudden blackout.
“It’s me,” Kristal assured him. “Where are you? Come here.”
She reached out blindly, grasping the air in front of her while waiting for her eyes to adjust.
Her fingers came into contact with smooth fabric, the lapels of an expensive tuxedo jacket. Harry’s taste for the finer things in life was almost as refined and insatiable as Margot’s.
“Mmmm… you feel as good as you look tonight,” Kristal murmured, gliding her hands up and down the outside of the jacket, admiring the solid contours of the hard chest and torso underneath. He’d clearly been working out more than usual.
Harry didn’t speak, just stood there and let her caress him, his breathing accelerating and enticingly audible in the quiet room. Then with a soft grunt, he slid his arms around her, pressing his palms against the small of her back and pulling her close.
Kristal let out a surprised laugh and inhaled, getting an intoxicating whiff of the masculine scent he was wearing.
New aftershave too. Yum. Mr. McAllen has really upped his game.
She’d missed this—the closeness, the excitement of being with him in a romantic way, the comfort of human touch. It felt like weeks since he’d held her in his arms. Maybe it had been. She’d been so distracted with her father’s care, it was hard to remember.
But she wasn’t distracted tonight. She was completely focused on him and completely keyed up.
The darkness had been an excellent idea. It made her braver than she usually was.
“Let’s see if you kiss as good as you feel,” Kristal whispered and slipped her fingers around the back of his hard-muscled neck, rising up on tiptoe to press her lips to his.
At first, he failed to respond as expected, going stock-still and letting her do all the heavy liftin
g in the kiss.
But after a few seconds, he got with the program—big time. He made a sort of gruff, growly noise and leaned into the kiss, sinking one of his big hands into her hair to grasp her nape, taking the lead.
His mouth moved with hers in heated, luscious strokes, the fervency of his kisses escalating in a steady ascent that drew her right along with it. His other hand left her back and came up to cradle her jaw with a tenderness that brought tears to the corners of her eyes.
What was happening? Within moments of touching her, Harry was drawing feelings from her she’d never experienced in her life. He had never kissed her like this before, and until now, she hadn’t been aware of how much she’d craved it.
It was the intensity, the focus, the sheer emotion behind the kisses that made them more potent than anything she’d ever known.
Kristal wasn’t a big drinker, and she’d never tried any sort of illicit drugs, but suddenly she understood the allure of addictive substances. She couldn’t get enough.
Though they were in a public venue with scores of other people, and she could hear the low hum of their distant chatter as well as the faint strains of live music, this room felt like a world apart, their own secret hideaway.
Part of her mind was aware the door could open at any moment, exposing their private interlude to the world, but she couldn’t seem to dredge up any real concern. She was suspended in some sort of alternate state… weightless, boneless, powerless against the hypnotic spell Harry had cast over her tonight.
The subtle sense of the forbidden seemed to be working for him as well because he pulled her even tighter, large hands spanning her waist and back, enclosing her in his strong grip.
His kisses deepened, turning sultry and slow, and Kristal’s insides melted like cheap candle wax. She’d never imagined lips, teeth, and tongues could produce this much pleasure. It was too much.
She made a little noise—a whimper for him to stop? A plea to go on? She wasn’t really sure.
Whatever it was, it seemed to energize Harry. His lungs worked in heavy surges, his hands gliding down her sides and grappling in the heavy folds of her dress.
He began moving forward, backing her slowly across the room until the backs of her legs encountered an obstacle. Oh, it was a bedframe.
Whoa.
The surprise realization snapped Kristal out of the passion fog that had dropped over her in the past few minutes and obscured all her usual cautionary road signs.
She turned her head, disengaging from the kiss.
“Wait,” she said, fighting for breath as well as self-control. “Wait a minute. Please.”
Harry let her go instantly, removing his hands and his mind-altering body heat. After a few ragged breaths of his own, he finally spoke.
“Too fast? Sorry about that. I got a little carried away.”
A bolt of terror shot through Kristal’s chest.
Not Harry! Not. Harry.
That was not his voice. Not even close. This voice was deeper, huskier.
Scrambling back from the man, she fell onto the bed in an ungraceful sprawl. Which the stranger couldn’t see, thank goodness, because of the darkness.
Stranger. Oh my word, she’d kissed a stranger. Who was she kidding? She’d made out with him. In a public place. At her stepmother’s party, which was attended by pretty much everyone they knew in town.
Oh no. What if she knew this guy? What if he was one of Margot’s friends? One of her father’s friends? Ugh.
What if he was one of Harry’s friends?
This was so bad. So, so bad. Kristal could hardly bear to think about it. Her chest hurt. Mortification flooded her veins, pushing out the words that had been trapped behind the instantaneous lump in her throat.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasped.
“Please…” A low chuckle. “… don’t apologize. That was just about the best few minutes of my life.”
“No, really. I have to apologize. That was a mistake—an accident.”
“You sure about that? It felt pretty intentional there for a minute.” The man’s voice was somehow soothing and taunting at the same time.
That voice. It was someone she knew. But who?
“No, I mean the kissing wasn’t an accident. It’s just… I didn’t mean to kiss you. I thought you were someone else. Wait… who are you?”
Kristal heard the soft shush of movement, and then the light switched on, causing her to squint against its disconcerting brightness. Blinking and getting her bearings, she shifted toward the bedroom door to see…
“Hunter! What are you doing here?”
He gave her a wry grin. “I believe you’ve already asked me that question once tonight. What are you doing here?”
“Me? I… well I… Harry sent me a text to meet him, and I did—I mean I thought I was meeting him, but I was meeting you, only I didn’t know it was you. I just… I’m not really sure how this happened.”
Hunter leaned back against the door, shoving one hand through his disheveled hair—through the hair she’d disheveled. His narrow-eyed gaze fell on her like a life sentence.
“You really had no idea it was me?” He sounded incredulous.
“Of course not. It was dark. You had no idea it was me either.”
One of his eyebrows lifted.
Kristal’s jaw came unhinged. “Did you?” Confusion boiled in her brain. “If you knew it was me, why would you kiss me? I told you I had a boyfriend. I told you I was dating Harry.”
His lips twisted to one side and he huffed a laugh, his gaze going to the floor, to one wall, then up toward the ceiling.
“I thought you saw me. You came in and said, ‘Come here.’ You said I looked good. I thought maybe you’d… followed me in here, and…”
His cheeks colored in a deep blush. He shook his head and laughed again, not a happy sound but a bitter one. One hand came up to cover his mouth and chin then dropped to his side.
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I apologize too. If I’d realized… I never would have…”
As he seemed at a loss for words and almost as embarrassed as she was, Kristal rushed to let him off the hook. “Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal. No harm, no foul, right?”
She forced a laugh she didn’t feel. Amusement was not what she was experiencing. She felt… stricken. “You won’t… tell anyone…”
Hunter’s lips folded in, turning his mouth into a hard, straight line. “No. Of course not. Your secret’s safe with me.”
Kristal’s insides curdled. She didn’t want to have a secret. But even as that thought entered her mind another one superseded it. She would not be telling Harry about this.
She wouldn’t be telling anyone. Ever.
It truly had been an accident, but how could she possibly explain it? She should have known from the first second it wasn’t Harry kissing her and stroking her hair, touching her face and holding her against him.
Hadn’t she even marveled over how different he was tonight?
But she’d been too lost in the feeling to pursue that tickle of doubt. She hadn’t wanted to question it too closely… hadn’t wanted it to end.
But now it had to. This mistake, this conversation. Harry would be here any moment—and that meant Hunter couldn’t be.
“You’ve got to leave,” Kristal said, urgency coloring her voice.
His head jerked back. “Just like that? You kiss me, scramble my brains, and send me packing?”
“Harry is on his way here,” she hissed, dashing a glance at the door. “He can’t walk in on us like this.”
“Like what?” Hunter’s tone was bruised, sarcastic. “You mean with your lipstick smeared and your hair all sexy and messed up from my hands?”
A dart of sensation shot through Kristal’s belly. Her face heated to feverish temperatures, and her hand automatically came up to smooth her hair. She slid off the bed and moved toward the bathroom door.
“I… need to… I need a mirror. Please go, Hunter.
I’m sorry. Please understand.”
Kristal grabbed her purse and fled into the bathroom, digging inside the small evening bag for the compact and lipstick she always kept inside. When she re-emerged, Hunter was gone.
Conflicting emotions battled inside her—relief she wouldn’t be forced to explain this mess to Harry and also a strange sense of… loss.
There wasn’t time to consider it further because Harry came through the bedroom door from the hallway.
Seeing her, he stopped short, his eyes going wide. He looked stunned.
“Kristal?”
Oh no. He can tell. She thought she’d done a pretty good job of makeup and hair recovery, but obviously not.
Her belly plunged to her feet like an elevator car with a failed lift mechanism. She gripped her hands in front of her belly button, wringing them together.
“Hi Harry. I—”
“What are you doing here?” He didn’t sound angry as Kristal had expected. He sounded… confused.
And now she was confused. “What do you mean? You sent me a text.” At his continued look of bafflement, she prompted, “Hide and Seek?’
He froze. Blinked once. Looked around.
“Oh. Right. Yeah, I did.” Motioning for Kristal to come with him, he said, “I thought about it, and maybe it’s not such a good idea…”
A woman’s tipsy sing-song voice rang out from the hallway. “Ready or not… here I come.”
Harry’s head dropped back onto his shoulders, and his arms went slack at his sides. A second later, a beautiful blonde stepped into the room wearing a naughty smile. She looked vaguely familiar.
Going directly to Harry and putting both hands on his chest, she said, “I was too excited to wait for your text. How long have you been here?”
The woman did a double-take when she spotted Kristal near the bathroom door, her glance bouncing from Harry to Kristal, back to Harry.
“What’s going on? Harry? What’s she doing here?” the young woman said.
And that was when it hit Kristal.
The text hadn’t been meant for her.
Biting his lip and taking in a tight breath, Harry turned to her with a Don’t hate me grimace.
“Um, Kristal… we need to talk.”