If Only You Knew

by Carla Fredd

  Ric leaned back against the sofa. "If you're opening the rest of them, it will only take two minutes."

  It took her ten minutes to open the remaining packages. Bright pieces of wrapping paper clashed with the staid yet elegant wool rug.

  "Is that the last one?" he asked, referring to the Waterford crystal vase.

  "That's it," she said, carefully placing the vase in the box. "This vase would look good on the table over there with fresh-cut flowers to add a touch of color to the room. There's no color in this room," she stated, crinkling her nose.

  "There is color in the room. Black, white, and gray are colors."

  "Yeah, but they're dull colors. You need a touch of red in here. This room makes me feel like I'm in a black-and-white photograph."

  "What do you want to do to change it? Other than the flowers?" he asked.

  "Not a lot. I'd add a few pillows, a few knickknacks just to make the room a little friendlier."

  He turned, giving her a puzzled look. "Make the room friendlier?"

  "This is a very unfriendly room. It doesn't give you the feeling that you're welcome to linger and chat. It's cool and intimidating. It's not like you at all."

  "Really. What am I like?" he asked crossing his arms across his chest his brown eyes dark with curiosity.

  She pursed her lips, leaning her head to the side. "You are the nicest man I've ever met. Although you do try to hide it from people. You're real. You accept people the way they are." She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know ... you're not the stereotypical CEO type. I couldn't talk to anyone else the way I talk to you, not even my family."

  "I don't think my competitors think of me as nice."

  "They don't know you. I know you. I don't think another man would have agreed to help me the way you have. You've done everything to make me comfortable from the beginning." She took his hand in hers. "Thank you. I couldn't have asked for a better friend than you."

  "You make me sound like a saint. I'm definitely no saint"

  "I know that, and I'm not saying that you're a saint but you're a whole lot nicer than you pretend to be."

  "Nice," he said softly. "A man doesn't want to be known as nice. That's such a bland description of a person. It brings to mind the saying, 'Nice guys finish last.' "

  She shook her head and said, "I don't think you'll ever be last in anything unless you want to be."

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise, then drew them together in a frown. "You have a lot of faith in my abilities. Don't be disappointed if I don't live up to your standards."

  "You won't disappoint me," she said with certainty as she studied his troubled face. "You never have." When his frown deepened, she turned her attention to the room again. "Red. This room definitely needs a splash of red."

  She continued a steady dialog of decorating ideas until the line between his brow faded and the tense muscles in his jaw relaxed.

  You won't disappoint me.

  Anna May's words replayed in his mind as he lay naked on top of the wrinkled bedsheets. The musky smell of sex from their recent lovemaking filled the dimly lit bedroom, and her warm body snuggled next to his in sleep.

  She had no idea how her words affected him, he thought, as he stared into the darkness. Her unfailing faith in him never ceased to surprise him. It wasn't as if he tried to hide the bad side of himself, it just seemed that she was never around when he was at his worst. Sooner or later it was going to happen, and he wondered how she would react?

  He lay still as she moved closer to him, her leg rested on top of his, her soft bare breast pressed against his chest, and her head lay on his shoulder. When she settled back into sleep, he put his arm around her shoulder. Contentment filled him as he touched her satiny skin.

  She'd been living in his house for only a day, and he could already see it would be so easy for him to get used to having her in his house, in his bed. She would leave him and he knew it, like his mother had left him. As a boy he had been at the mercy of his mother's whims. As a man he was at the mercy of no one, not even his innocent, sexy, and temporary wife.

  When this marriage came to an end, he planned to keep his heart untouched and unscathed as he had in his past relationships.

  The women in his past hadn't satisfied him as his wife had tonight with her own brand of innocent seduction.

  The women in his past hadn't been his best friends.

  The women in his past weren't Anna May.

  As his eyelids grew heavy with sleep and the defenses he used to guard his heart relaxed, he wondered how he would resist falling in love with her. Just before he fell asleep, he admitted to himself that he couldn't.

  Anna May stretched, drawing her body slowly and lazily against her husband's still form. She looked up at her husband's relaxed face. Even in his sleep, Ric looked hard and in control. His jaw, though relaxed, was firm and his long black lashes rested against his strong cheeks.

  She longed to touch his face but she hesitated, unsure of how he would react. Would he welcome her touch, or would he turn away? Although he seemed to enjoy making love with her, she wasn't sure if he would welcome her affection that wasn't a prelude to making love.

  Slowly she raised her hand and caressed his cheek with soft, butterfly light strokes. The contrast of the rough stubble of his beard and the warmth of his skin made touching him all the more pleasurable. She followed the downward slope of his cheek, then along the faint laugh line to the edge of his full lips. With the pad of her finger, she leisurely outlined his mouth and tested the firmness of his lips.

  He had done so many wicked things with his lips last night, the memory of which made her hand tremble. She'd never known how arousing a single kiss could be until Ric had shown her that her mouth and cheeks weren't the only spots made for kissing. When the tip of her finger returned to the edge of his lips, she let her touch linger, savoring the delightful sensation of her skin against his.

  The pattern of his breathing changed, and she raised her head. His gaze was dark, sensuous, and potent. He took her hand, which was still upon his lips, and brushed her fingertips across his firm mouth, once then twice. On the third stroke, he kissed her fingers and held her gaze as he guided her hand to her lips.

  "Morning, Anna May," he said. His voice was deep and low.

  She kissed her fingers and brought them back to his lips. "Good morning," she whispered.

  "It could be," he smiled at her tenderly, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her flush to his blatantly aroused body.

  "Oh," she said, her eyes widening then darkening as he gently caressed her bare hips.

  "Is that an oh yes or an oh no?" His quiet yet deep voice was as much a caress as his hands.

  She leaned down and kissed his chest—his skin felt warm against her lips as she made her way to his dark brown nipple, tasting him with the tip of her tongue. Raising her head at the sound of his low, husky moan, she looked at him. His eyelids were lowered, nearly closed, yet his desire for her was clearly visible in his brown eyes.

  "That's a definite yes," she whispered.

  Chapter 10

  Ric was two hours late for work. As owner of the company, he was usually the first person to arrive and the last to leave. This morning, however, he had been sorely tempted to stay in the bed with the sleeping Anna May. He forced aside the picture in his mind of his wife lying on her stomach, the edge of the sheet draped loosely across her hips.

  Glancing at his watch, he quickened his stride as he walked down the hallway to his office. He'd had his secretary reschedule his early morning appointments—however, this meeting had been called months ago, and he couldn't miss it.

  "Good morning, Mrs. Jones," he said coming to a stop in front of her desk. "Has Dickerson arrived yet?"

  She looked at the clock on her desk. "Good afternoon, Mr. Justice. Mr. Dickerson and Warren are in the conference room now," she said gesturing toward the closed door of the conference room.

  Giving her a curt nod, he walked to the d
oor.

  J.V. Dickerson was the tallest of the five men in the room. A shade under seven foot, the elderly Texan wore his signature Stetson to perpetuate his image of being a larger-than-life businessman.

  Ric remembered a time when the sight of that Stetson had his stomach tied into knots. He had eaten several rolls of antacids before he made his first big sale to the Texas millionaire. With the money Dickerson had paid him for the small drug company, Ric bought two other companies which he turned around financially and sold for a nice big profit. "Justice," Dickerson said in a booming voice, which was in opposition to his age. "How the hell are ya?"

  Ric walked across and shook his hand. "I'm fine. Sorry to keep you waiting."

  His bright smile smoothed away the wrinkles in his coppery brown skin. "No problem, son. Warren was just filling me in on your recent marriage. If I'd known you were getting married, I'd have postponed the meeting until after your honeymoon." He raised his gray brows and tilted his head to the side. "There's nothing like a honeymoon to really relax a man."

  Ric smiled mockingly at the older man. "Relaxation is the last thing I need when I'm doing business with you, Dickerson."

  "Yeah, but it sure would have made my job a whole lot easier if it were." He pushed his hat to the back of his head.

  "You don't like things easy. It would take all the fun out of trying to convince me to your way of thinking," Ric replied making his way to the conference table.

  "My way of thinking is obviously the best. Just ask me and I'll tell you," the older man replied while following Ric to the table where the other three men were sitting.

  "I'm sure you will tell me several times during this meeting without my asking. Especially when we start talking about my asking price for Price-Gantt, Inc."

  The Texan leisurely sat down in a chair. Stretching his long legs out in front of him, he crossed his ankles. "We need to talk about that, son. I think you're asking for too much money for that company."

  Ric gestured for the other men to have a seat before he sat down in the chair next to Dickerson and replied, "And I think I'm asking a fair price."

  They negotiated back and forth for the next six hours, stopping only for short breaks to make a few telephone calls, eat lunch while working, and receive faxes. At the end of the day Ric was satisfied with the deal they'd struck.

  "Ric, it's always nice to do business with you." Dickerson held out his hand.

  "Same here," Ric said as he shook the older man's hand.

  "Now that the business is taken care of, my wife would have my hide if I don't invite you and your wife to have dinner with us tonight. She'd get a kick out of meeting the woman that got you to the altar."

  Ric nodded his head. "We'd be happy to join you and your wife for dinner."

  "You what?" Anna May screeched into the telephone.

  Wincing, Ric returned the telephone to his ear. "I accepted an invitation for us to have dinner with my client tonight."

  "Ric, can't we postpone dinner until tomorrow? I'll be prepared then," she said.

  "They'll be leaving town tomorrow morning. Dickerson just bought one of my companies for five and half million dollars. I think we need to have dinner with him."

  Holding the phone to her ear, she looked down at the dirty cotton shirt and dusty blue jeans she was wearing. "How long do I have to get ready?"

  "They made reservations at Antonio's at eight."

  Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she plopped down on the bed. She had two hours to change, dress, and fight the traffic downtown. "Why didn't you call me sooner?"

  Her tone reminded him of the same accusing tone his grandmother used many years ago. "I didn't know he was going to invite us to dinner, and we just got out of the meeting five minutes ago."

  She sighed in frustration. "Where do you want me to meet you, at your office?"

  "My office is fine."

  "All right, I'll get there as soon as I can."

  As she had expected, the traffic on the expressway was awful, and when she reached the city, traffic was even worse. A big-name singer was performing at the Fox Theater and cars clogged the streets near Ric's office. As she inched down Peachtree Street, she felt the tension inside her increase. This was her first social function as Mrs. Garrick Justice, and she didn't want to do anything to embarrass herself or him. His short notice didn't help matters, but after she'd calmed down, she realized that he was just as surprised as she was to get the invitation.

  Anna May walked into the lobby of Ric's office two hours and fifteen minutes after his call. Cool gray and rose marble lined the wall behind the security guard, and dark winter night seeped inside the remaining glass walls, creating an air of opulence and space.

  "Hello. Could you call Mr. Justice, please," she said to the security guard and waited quietly as the young man used the telephone. Studying her reflection in the highly polished glass wall beside her, she brushed her finger through her wind-tossed hair to smooth it back in place. When she was satisfied that her hair was in place, she took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. There was no reason for her to be nervous, she told herself. This was no different than any of the numerous business dinners she'd attended this year. But it was different. She'd always been the business professional, never the spouse. Could she shift roles?

  "Miss, he'll be down in a second," the guard said interrupting her thoughts.

  She unbuttoned her creme wool coat, melting the chill of winter as waves of warm air flowed in the lobby. The monotone ring of the elevator bell sounded, and she turned as the bright chrome doors slid open.

  Ric entered the lobby with his coat folded over one arm and carrying a briefcase in his opposite hand. His charcoal gray suit jacket clung to his broad shoulders. Shoulders she'd clung to this morning as he'd taken her to paradise. Slowly heat reddened her cheeks as she remembered the sweet touch of his hands on her body.

  "Are you ready?" he asked when he reached her side.

  "Yes."

  "The Dickersons will meet us at Antonio's," he said placing the briefcase on the floor.

  "Tell me about your client," she said as he put on his coat, then straightened his collar when he'd buttoned it.

  He stood motionless while she fussed with his collar. She looked up when she noticed how still he was. The dark heat in his eyes made her stomach tighten. Her mouth felt dry, and she swallowed to clear the sudden lump in her throat. Quickly she moved her hands from his collar and folded them in front of her.

  "I've been doing business with J.V. Dickerson since I started this company. He was the first big businessman who saw value in one of the companies I'd bought in Texas. He bought the company from me, but more importantly with his purchase, he made other business owners take a second look at my work." He reached down to pick up his briefcase.

  Anna May felt the tension return to her body and with the tension, her uncertainty. This dinner was more important to him than she'd realized. Although he hadn't said it, she was sure Ric wasn't looking forward to dinner with his clients. Was it because she was now involved with this part of his life? Did he resent her intrusion? She'd have to make sure that this dinner went smoothly. Come hell or high water, she thought.

  "Are you ready?" he asked.

  Lifting her chin, she met his questioning glance then said, "Yes."

  They took Ric's Jaguar to Antonio's. On the drive over, Ric told her more about the Texas millionaire. The more he spoke, the more nervous she became. Her imagination went into overdrive as she thought of all the possible things that could go wrong tonight. Her stomach was in knots when they turned into the parking lot of the restaurant.

  Nestled in the heart of Buckhead, Antonio's resembled an antebellum house. Large white columns graced a roomy wraparound porch. Ric gave the valet his keys, then walked to the passenger side and helped her out of the car. They entered what was at one time the foyer. Antique rose wallpaper covered the walls. A tuxedo-clad gentleman smiled when they approached the podium.
<
br />   "May I help you?" he asked.

  "We're with the Dickerson party," Ric replied.

  The man looked down for a second. "Yes, the other members have been seated already. Would you like to check your coats?"

  Ric raised his eyebrows in question. At her nod, he helped her out of her coat and gave it to the gentleman before removing his own.

  "Where's the ladies' room?" she asked the man.

  "It's right down the hall, ma'am."

  "I'll be just a second," she said to Ric. Her legs felt rubbery as she walked down the hall to the ladies' room. She washed her hands, checked her makeup, and gave herself a mental pep talk before leaving the room.

  "I'm ready," she said.

  They followed the gentleman down the hall to one of the rooms. Small tables covered with white linen and elegant china dotted the room. Anna May pasted a smile on her face when they were led to a table occupied by an older couple. Her smile slipped briefly when the man rose. Up and up she looked at the man wearing a mocha brown Stetson nearly the same color as his skin and a black suit.

  Ric placed his hand at the small of her back. "Anna May, I'd like you to meet J.V. and Betsy Dickerson. Mr. and Mrs. Dickerson, meet my wife, Anna May Justice."

  "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Justice," the man replied in a voice that matched his height.

  "Please call me Anna May," she said then sat in the chair Ric was holding for her.

  "Call me J.V.," he replied with a smile.

  "Nice to meet you, young lady. I'm Betsy," the older woman said. She was as petite as her husband was tall, as soft spoken as he was loud. They were an interesting couple, Anna May thought.

  "J.V. tells me you're newlyweds. How long have you been married?" Betsy asked.

  "Three days," Anna May replied.

  Betsy gasped in surprise, then turned to her husband. "You didn't tell me they'd only been married three days," she said giving him a hard look.