by Patricia Kay
Long after her mother had gone home, and the black-lace gown was hanging safely out of harm’s way—meaning Tabitha’s curious paws—Joanna lay in bed and told herself not to forget that truth.
Because forgetting would be the road to heartbreak.
* * *
Marcus’s eyes widened at the sight of Joanna wearing a spectacular black-lace evening gown. She looked amazing. There was no other word for it. Her curvy figure was shown to clear advantage in the softly draped dress with a plunging neckline and halterlike top. Her hair hadn’t been tamed, but its black spikes were softened by the addition of a beautiful red silk flower positioned over her left ear and sparkling jet earrings that dangled daintily from her ears. Her makeup was more subdued, too, although not around the eyes, which were—if anything—even more smoky and dramatically outlined than usual. Tonight she wore a vivid red lipstick that matched the flower, but he noticed her nail polish was still black. That fact almost amused him. Silver sandals with very high heels and a small beaded black purse completed her outfit.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
“Thank you.” She smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I made the dress.”
“Yes, I thought so.”
“So you like it?”
Liking it was an understatement. The dress was sexy and elegant at the same time, something he imagined was very hard to pull off. No doubt about it. She was a talented designer. “I like it very much.”
“Do you think the women I’ll meet tonight will like it, too?”
“I think, once they know you’re a designer, they’ll be lining up to order their own dresses.”
Her smile finally seemed genuine. “I hope you’re right.”
“You’re going to be cold,” he said when she picked up her purse and seemed ready to go.
“I’ve got a wrap.” She pointed to a black velvet shawl laying on the chair where he’d sat to view her collection the first time he’d come to her apartment.
“I’ll get it,” he said, walking over and picking it up, then bringing it over to her and lifting it onto her shoulders. That was when he spied the tattoo. A dragonfly, about an inch and a half wide, sat at her back right shoulder. He stared at it. A tattoo? He balked inwardly, imagining what his mother would think when she saw it, and she certainly would see it. You couldn’t miss it, not in this backless dress.
Damn.
Then he got mad. Why did he care what his mother thought? He was a grown man in charge of his own life.
Yet he couldn’t deny that the tattoo, even one as tasteful and attractive as this one, bothered him. He was not the kind of man to enjoy seeing a woman’s beautiful skin—and Joanna’s skin was beautiful—blemished by a black ink drawing, no matter how tasteful.
He didn’t mention it, though, just draped the velvet over her shoulders and said, “Shall we go?”
He could smell the light fragrance she wore as they rode silently down in the elevator, and he itched to draw her closer. He knew if he placed his lips in the tender curve of her neck, it would be warm there. Just thinking about it, he felt his heart beating a little faster.
He wondered what she was thinking. Did she know how just the sight of her made him feel? Did she have any idea how much he wanted her? How he dreamed about her? How she occupied way too many of his waking thoughts?
Marcus hated the insecurities she’d managed to unearth in him. He despised feeling so out of control, so much a victim of his emotions.
Marcus didn’t trust emotions.
Yet since meeting Joanna, he’d been completely in their thrall.
* * *
What was he thinking?
Was he glad to be with her or did he wish he hadn’t asked her to accompany him tonight?
She wished he’d say something.
He said he liked your dress and that you look beautiful. What more do you want?
She wanted to be tall and coolly blond like his former girlfriend and probably all the women he’d dated in the past. She wanted green eyes or violet eyes or a color that was interesting, not the plain brown she was stuck with. She wanted to be sophisticated and confident moving in the circles he moved in.
But as soon as all these thoughts crowded into her mind, she rejected them. What was wrong with her? She didn’t really want any of those things. She was perfectly happy with who she was, and if he wasn’t, that was his problem.
Had he noticed her tattoo? He must have, when he put the shawl around her shoulders. How could he have missed it?
Yet he hadn’t said a word. He probably hated it. He probably thought it looked cheap. Well, too bad if he did. She loved her tattoo. In fact, she was thinking about getting another one, maybe on her ankle.
By now they’d reached the first floor. When they walked outside, she saw that he’d parked illegally in front of her building. And he’d gotten a ticket. She could see it tucked under the windshield wiper.
“I figured it was worth taking a chance,” he said. “I didn’t want you to have to walk.” He grabbed it and shoved it into the glove compartment.
The ride to the Four Seasons Hotel downtown didn’t take long. Marcus offered Joanna his arm as they entered the ballroom, where the benefit was taking place. Sweeping views of Elliott Bay and Puget Sound were the perfect backdrop for the beautifully set tables ringing the dance floor, and the elegantly dressed guests that had already arrived.
Joanna’s heart accelerated as Marcus led her to a table where several guests were seated. As they approached, Vanessa, dressed in a short gold beaded sleeveless dress, stood. She gave Joanna a big smile and hug, saying, “I’m so glad Marcus brought you. Here, sit next to me so we can talk.”
Joanna glanced at Marcus. “In a minute,” he said. “I’d like to introduce you to my mother first.”
He led her to the woman sitting two seats away. She looked up. Her grayish-blue eyes, identical to her son’s, studied Joanna coolly. “Mother,” Marcus said, “I’d like you to meet Joanna Spinelli. She’s the designer I told you about, the one who will be showing her work at the gallery in late November. Joanna, my mother, Laurette Barlow.”
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Joanna said. His mother was beautiful. Late sixties, Joanna guessed, mostly from the way she was dressed, because her skin was unlined and her figure youthful and slim. She wore a pale blue satin column gown with a square neckline and long sleeves. A rope of pearls hung around her neck, and small pearl-and-diamond earrings graced her ears. Her hair, silvery-blond, was swept back in a chignon.
“How do you do?” she said. She didn’t smile. Her eyes traveled from Joanna’s hair to her feet in a slow inspection.
She’s a snob, Joanna thought. She straightened and lifted her chin. She remembered what her mother had said the night before. You’re good enough for anyone!
Sitting between Vanessa and her mother was a distinguished-looking man who also appeared to be in his late sixties, perhaps even early seventies. He had thick white hair, a neat white mustache and bright blue eyes.
“Joanna,” Marcus said, “this is Walker Creighton, our lawyer and an old family friend.”
Walker Creighton stood and clasped Joanna’s hand. “Such a pleasure. You’re very beautiful, my dear. But I expect no less from Marcus. He has impeccable taste.”
Joanna smiled. What a sweetheart Walker was. She wondered if he was Laurette Barlow’s date or simply a guest of the family. “Thank you.”
Introductions over, Marcus held out the chair next to Vanessa, and once Joanna was seated, said, “I’ll be right back. I need to check in with the chairman.”
Joanna turned to Vanessa. “I love your dress.”
“My mother picked it out,” Vanessa said dismissively. “I really wanted to wear something like the outfit I’m buying from you, but she’d never
have let me out the door in pants. I’m lucky I didn’t have to wear some prom dress.” She said the words prom dress as if they left a bad taste in her mouth.
The corners of Joanna’s mouth twitched. Vanessa felt like a breath of fresh air in this staid environment. “Most girls would consider themselves extremely lucky to be wearing that dress.”
Vanessa looked sheepish. “I know. It is beautiful, and I do like it. I just get so tired of being told what to do and what to wear...and even what to think.”
“I know it’s hard. I used to chafe at my father’s rules. But you’ll be on your own soon.”
“I can’t wait!”
“Exactly what is it you can’t wait for?”
Both Joanna and Vanessa startled at the sound of Laurette Barlow’s voice, which carried perfectly, even though it wasn’t loud.
“The day I can make my own decisions,” Vanessa answered without hesitation.
Joanna once again admired Vanessa’s lack of fear. Laurette’s expression hardened. Instead of answering her daughter, she addressed her next remark to Walker Creighton. “Children can be so thankless, don’t you think?”
“They can be, yes,” he said, “but I don’t think you have to worry about that, my dear. Your children think the world of you and they appreciate everything you’ve done for them.”
Vanessa turned back to Joanna and rolled her eyes. “She makes me crazy,” she murmured.
Joanna fought to keep from laughing, because she knew Marcus’s mother could see her. “That’s a mother’s job,” she whispered back.
Just then, Marcus reappeared, and soon after, three other guests joined their table: a husband and wife he introduced as old family friends Stephen and Emily Garrett and their teenage son, Jordan, who looked bored and acted as if he wanted to be anywhere but there. Stephen and Emily were friendly, though, and they chatted companionably for a while.
Very soon, the dinner service began, and conversation became more sporadic as they sampled the excellent wines and courses.
“Oh, these scallops are wonderful,” Emily Garrett enthused.
“Mine are rather overcooked,” Laurette said, frowning.
“We can send them back, Laurette,” Walker said.
“I don’t want to make a fuss.”
Joanna wondered if Marcus’s mother was being sarcastic or if she really didn’t realize she’d already made a fuss. Joanna’s scallops were cooked perfectly. She had a feeling Laurette simply wanted attention.
Emily Garrett turned to Joanna, saying, “I love your dress. Where did you get it?”
“I made it,” Joanna said.
“You made it!”
“She’s a fashion designer,” Vanessa piped up. “Her clothes are gorgeous.”
“And they’ll be shown at Up and Coming the end of November,” Marcus interjected. “You’ll be getting an invitation, Emily.”
“Well, I can’t wait,” Emily said. She gave Joanna a warm smile. “Do you have a showroom?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it.”
“What about a business card?”
“That I can do.” Joanna’d had the foresight to put a couple dozen in her evening bag earlier. She handed one across the table to Emily.
Emily looked at it, then said, “I’ll call you.”
Joanna was thrilled to have made her first positive contact of the night. And when Marcus reached over and squeezed her leg just above the knee, she knew he was pleased, too. Their eyes met, and in his she saw something that made her heart do one of its silly flips. And just like that, she knew tonight’s invitation wasn’t about business at all. She’d been kidding herself to think so. Without really thinking, she placed her left hand over his.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Then she removed her hand and he removed his, and they both returned their attention to their food. But it took a long time for Joanna’s heart to regain its steady, even beat again, and she was acutely aware of Marcus beside her.
When the dessert service began, the chairman of the night’s event stood and tapped her wineglass to get everyone’s attention. “Welcome to the annual dinner dance benefitting the Hooper Women’s Shelter,” she said. “I’m delighted to see so many of you here. This year’s benefit has broken all records for attendance. And I’m sure the silent auction—which is set up in the adjoining room—will do us proud, as well.”
She then went on to introduce her committee and after that, the members of the board of directors, one of whom was Marcus. Joanna couldn’t help feeling a swell of pride when he stood to boisterous applause. It was clear from the reaction of the attendees that Marcus was well thought of and well liked.
After the director of the shelter had spoken, the brief program was over and the dancing began. Marcus turned to Joanna. “Let’s walk a bit, and I’ll introduce you to the people I think you should meet.”
Joanna hid her disappointment. She had been hoping he would ask her to dance. But she took his arm and let him lead her around. Soon her head was spinning with names and impressions. He seemed to know everyone, and they all knew him. Most of the women he introduced her to were friendly and asked for her business card, and she felt she was making some good connections. The men were another story. Without exception, they seemed admiring. Several of them made comments to Marcus. One preppy type, someone Marcus obviously knew well, said, “Where have you been keeping her hidden?”
Marcus smiled. “I don’t give away my secrets.”
And just as Joanna thought she’d met everyone and was beginning to hope that maybe now Marcus might suggest dancing, a tall, stunning blonde walked purposefully toward them. Joanna knew immediately who she was. Amanda Warren. Marcus’s former girlfriend. And probably his ex-lover. Amanda had a determined look in her eyes as she neared. “Hello, Marcus. I wondered if I’d see you here.”
“Hello, Amanda.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“Hello,” Amanda said to Joanna. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Amanda, this is Joanna Spinelli. Joanna, Amanda Warren.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Joanna said. She thought about extending her right hand, then decided not to.
Amanda studied Joanna for a few moments. “Spinelli. I don’t recognize the name.”
“I don’t normally attend functions like this one,” Joanna said.
“Joanna’s a fashion designer. A very good one, I might add,” Marcus said.
Amanda gave him an amused smile. “Since when have you been interested in fashion?”
“Since I booked Joanna into Up and Coming for a show,” he said.
“I see.” Her green eyes swept Joanna. “Is your dress one you designed yourself?”
“Yes.”
“It’s quite nice.”
Damned with faint praise, Joanna thought. But she couldn’t fault Amanda for it. It must be horrible to see an ex-lover you still cared for—and it was obvious to Joanna that Amanda did still care for Marcus—out with another woman. If Joanna had been in Amanda’s shoes, she might have wanted to scratch her eyes out.
“Well, it’s been nice seeing you, Amanda, but we were just getting ready to leave.
“I hope you don’t mind going,” Marcus said after Amanda walked away. “I hate these affairs and never stay any longer than I have to.”
They went back to their table, said goodbye to the others—Vanessa hugged Joanna and said she hoped to see her again soon—then exited the ballroom.
They didn’t talk on the short drive to Joanna’s apartment. This time he didn’t park in front. Instead, he drove around back to the garage. Joanna didn’t know what to think. Did he want to come up to her apartment? Or was he simply making sure she got safely inside?
They walked around to the entrance and she handed him her key. Inside, she could
see Thomas on the phone. He was still talking when she and Marcus entered the lobby, and simply waved at them as they walked back to the elevators.
“I’ll see you up,” Marcus said.
Should she ask him in? Did she want to?
When they reached her apartment, she opened the door, hesitated for a moment then turned to him. “Would you like to come in?”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then, softly, almost gruffly, he said, “If I come in, I want to make love to you.”
Joanna’s heart went haywire. And it was a few seconds before she could catch her breath enough to answer. “I want that, too. Very much.”
And then she opened the door.
Chapter Thirteen
Later, Joanna wouldn’t remember them getting undressed. She’d only recall how Marcus had laughed when he’d seen her “bed.”
“We’re going to have to do something about this,” he said in between kissing her. But he gamely fitted himself alongside her on her quilt-covered sofa. After a few minutes of trying to find a comfortable position, he easily lifted her and placed her on top of him. “That’s better,” he murmured, positioning her between his legs.
Better didn’t describe how it felt to lie there, feeling the length of his fit and toned body underneath her, skin to skin, just as if they were two puzzle pieces perfectly matched.
As his kisses and hands became more demanding, Joanna stopped thinking at all. She allowed herself to absorb the sensations pummeling her. She could feel his erection beneath her, hear his ragged breathing, smell the essence of him, and as his tongue tasted and licked, his hands cupped and stroked, she responded with every fiber of her being.
“This isn’t going to work,” he groaned. “I want to be able to see you.”
Laughing, they pulled the quilt off the sofa, doubled it up and lay side by side on the floor. If Joanna thought being on top of him was good, having him able to give every inch of her his full attention was amazing. She knew she shouldn’t compare him to Chick, but it was hard not to, for Marcus was a very generous lover and Chick hadn’t been. Marcus took his time touching her and kissing her, slowing her down when she would have put her arms around him and urged him to go faster.