Double Wedding, Single Dad

by Fleeta Cunningham

  She curled into his arms, safe, contented, with a wonderful feeling of being home. It had been such a long time since she’d found comfort in a man’s caress. His touch had a gentle urgency, and his kiss had a hint of flame in it. His tongue touched the seam of her lips with a subtle quest she couldn’t resist.

  Everything in her responded to his lips, warm against her skin, exploring the curve of her cheek, the delicate hollow of her throat. Drowsy lassitude filled her. The world narrowed to Lucinda, who had forgotten that fires within can leap up unexpectedly, and Jeff, who suspected her embers had never gone out.

  “I didn’t call…” Lucinda lost whatever she’d started to say. Jeff’s lips against hers drove coherent thoughts from her mind. The lines keeping Jeff on the professional side of her life had somehow faded.

  “You didn’t what?” he murmured against her ear.

  Tracing a faint scar above his eye, she tried to catch the thought. “I don’t know now. Something I was going to tell you, but…”

  His lips brushed hers. “Tell me later.” He pushed aside the fabric of her shirt until one finger followed the line of her throat to the curve of her breast. “Soft, so very soft.”

  “When you touch me, I feel as if there were little flames right under the skin.” The heat in her veins flowed through her, filling her.

  “Flames, Cinda? I thought I was the one on fire.”

  The shirt felt tight and its soft knit was almost painful over her breasts, suddenly sensitive to the least touch. When Jeff made more of his slow circles, first across her midriff, then pushing the shirt higher to coax her tender nipples to peaks, she moved under his hands. It was delicious torment.

  “No wonder you spend your life surrounded by colors and textures and their sensory powers. You respond to the least touch.” He lifted her shirt and stroked the tightened nipple bud with the tip of his tongue. A tremor followed his touch. “Every inch of you begs to be indulged, stroked, and kissed. Why is a woman as gloriously sensual as you not making some man feel like the king of the world? And why isn’t some man giving you the loving you so obviously need?”

  She didn’t know what she might have answered, but it didn’t matter. Jeff lifted the striped top and slid it over her head, then laid her back against the leather cushions of the sofa. The stroke of his hands and the touch of his lips did nothing to cool her. Lucinda ached to touch him as he was touching her, to know if she could stoke the fire within him as well.

  Jeff must have read the need in her eyes. He gripped the ribbing of his sweatshirt and pulled it over his head. “I want to feel you against me.”

  Almost of their own volition, her arms reached up to him, her hands touching his broad chest, his powerful shoulders. The desire to be held, held close against that firm chest, to feel his arms tight around her—the need was overwhelming. Jeff swept her to him, and she buried her face against his shoulder. He drew back, looking down at her. “What a beautiful creature you are, Cinda. All ivory and shell pink, like a delicate watercolor. But there’s strength in you, and passion and pleasure.” He tilted her face up to him. Kisses, hot and deep, blotted out the world. A need so intense she was shaking with it demanded response. Nothing existed outside the moment. His exploring hand slipped inside her waistband to trace the flat planes of her belly. In short order the fabric became a barrier which he quickly eliminated. And his pants followed hers to the floor. She reached for him, felt the weight and fullness of him, and knew the need within her burned too high to ignore. With his hands tangled in her hair, his body heavy against hers, Lucinda forgot to breathe. Her carefully erected walls fell.

  In a moment of near sanity, she felt Jeff lift himself. He leaned on one elbow, his length parallel to hers, sharing the sofa. “We aren’t teenagers making out in the parlor, my darling. We would be far more comfortable in that king-sized bed in the next room. And I think we’d sleep—or maybe not sleep—better in less confining quarters.” His lips brushed her forehead. “Coming to bed, Cinda?” He rolled to a sitting position, then stood and held out a hand to her.

  She reached up to him and traced the corner of his mouth that went up first when he smiled, as if the smile started slowly and then lit his whole face. He was a beautifully made man, sleek and elegant. The Armani tailoring, the exterior the world saw, only accentuated what nature had given him. And the natural man before her didn’t need any accessories. She held out both hands to him for help getting out of the deep cushions. “I’ve wondered what your bedroom would be like. Whether it’s warm and inviting like your study or streamlined and efficient like your office.”

  He pulled her to her feet. “Well, why don’t we take a look? I promise the bed is cozy and the duvet is snug.”

  Lucinda slipped her arms around his neck. The warm, hard length of him felt good against her, and his deep, lingering kiss was better. He ran teasing fingers down her back, sending cascades of trembling anticipation through her. She turned in his arms and he held her against him, running kisses across her shoulder, up her neck, to linger near her ear, murmuring wordless endearments. Somehow between stroking caresses and kisses that fanned a flaming need, they reached the bedroom.

  One long kiss took them across the room to the bed. Jeff sat on the edge, drawing her down beside him. “I want to touch you, feel you move under me.”

  She curled into the pillows heaped at the head of the bed, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s been a long time, a really long time since…” His kiss stopped her words.

  “Time to make new memories.” The bed barely shifted as he stretched his length beside her. He slipped one arm under her head. “Maybe better memories, too.” His free hand traced feathery lines down her cheeks, along her neck, and across her shoulders.

  Under his exquisite touch Lucinda felt her apprehension drain away. Like a pampered cat she responded to his touch, felt richly cherished by his attention. Every nerve and cell warmed to his caress. The brush of his lips across her breast left a glow quickly becoming an urgent need, but Jeff continued his unhurried exploration. He teased, he touched, he kissed, and though Lucinda thought she would die of the heat rising within her, Jeff tormented her with butterfly kisses over her breasts and down the flat plane of her abdomen. When he parted her dark curls to touch the most intimate part of her, Lucinda dug her fingers into the sheets, holding to her last shred of restraint. A moment later, she felt him enter her. Pinwheels of fire whirled behind her eyes. Somewhere, someone cried out. And the world collapsed until there was only wave upon wave of ecstasy. Not man and woman, not time and place, only the pleasure of total union.

  Drained, her breathing ragged, Lucinda tried to slow her pounding heart. As she recovered her sense of herself, she realized Jeff had pulled her to him, holding her against his body, his face touching hers.

  “Easy, easy, Cinda. Just breathe.” His lips were close against her ear. One hand stroked her hair back from her face.

  Lucinda’s heart slowed. She raised her head to look up at him. His lips brushed hers.

  “You go off like a rocket, sweetheart.”

  Lucinda drew a shuddering breath. “I know. Technicolor and special effects. Sorry, I tried to keep some kind of control.”

  Jeff’s response was a gritty chuckle. “Why would you do that?”

  “Over the top, too much, you know.”

  “Considering you spend most of your life zipped up in conservative black suits, helping other people create their own rainbow-colored spectaculars, it seems to me you’re entitled to go over the top in this most private celebration.” He pulled the duvet over the two of them. “Besides, sweetheart, I’m pretty confident I can handle it.” He brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead. “At least I plan to enjoy trying.”

  Chapter 6

  Lucinda slipped from the bed with as much stealth as she could manage. Jeff was still asleep, the duvet crumpled around him and pillows scattered where he’d pushed them from the bed. Refusing to dwell on the unexpected bliss of her overnight visit
or even idle in the comfort of the downy soft sheets in case Jeff should waken, Lucinda moved silently to the window and pulled back the black-and-white toile drape. Winter sun spilled a pale light over the scene below. The snow hadn’t lingered. Here and there, in deep shadows, a small drift remained, but for the most part, only puddles and damp pavement showed it had fallen.

  With light blocked by the heavy drapes, shadows of night remained in the apartment. Lucinda padded over the gold carpet to the bathroom. Her black suit, turtleneck, and lingerie were hanging as she’d left them over the towel bars. The skirt was dry to her touch, if a bit the worse for wear. As quietly as she could, Lucinda took a quick shower and dressed. Her shoes were somewhere—she had to think a moment to remember where. By the door. Yes, she’d stepped out of them the minute Jeff got her inside.

  Jeff! So far she’d managed to distract herself from thinking of him and kept her mind away from the events of the hours after midnight when she’d lost all her inhibitions. She bit hard on her lip, willing herself not to let the memory flood back.

  The thing to do now was to find her belongings, use the phone in the office to call her auto club, get back to her car, and go home. She had to get herself back on track and take care of her clients. This wasn’t the time for her attention to drift to—she took a quick glance back at the bedroom door and made herself turn away.

  No time for that, not at all.

  Locating her shoes and purse turned out to be no problem. They sat where she’d left them in the entry to Jeff’s office. But finding her cape proved to be another story. After ten minutes’ search, Lucinda decided to leave without it. She’d have to call a taxi to pick her up after she talked to the auto club.

  “You weren’t going to just walk out, were you, Lucinda?”

  She spun around to find Jeff standing in the doorway of the study, looking at her. His tousled hair brushed his forehead, and the belt of his navy robe barely held the garment closed. His eyes were still dark with sleep. She steeled herself not to walk back into his arms.

  “I was trying not to wake you.” She put the phone back on its base. “I was going to get somebody to take care of my car.” Though it was the truth, she felt as if she’d been caught in a falsehood.

  “Feeling a bit of morning-after remorse, sweetheart?” The slow smile that lifted one corner of his mouth made her heart catch. “No need, Cinda.”

  “Really, I just…” she began, but she knew he’d seen through her excuse before she, herself, had. She nodded, squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Jeff, I never expected to spend the night with you. I don’t have casual affairs. I don’t know what happened to me last night. I was overwhelmed by that ridiculous wedding, I guess, and the car, and the cold, all of it. I was—out of my element—or something. I guess it’s a little bit of morning-after remorse, in a way.”

  Jeff’s eyebrows shot straight up. “Hummmph.” He crossed the room in three steps. “You were most definitely in your element, my dear. And I was there with you. It was spectacular.” He left a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Something to treasure.” He kissed the other corner of her mouth. “And if you’ll give me a few minutes to dress, I’ll take you to a long, leisurely brunch so we can discuss exactly why we should plan some repeat performances.”

  “My car…” she tried.

  “Brunch.” He kissed her. “Brunch, some seductive future plans, and then I’ll have something done about your car.”

  Because brunch was a better choice than going to meet the auto club rep without eating, or at least Jeff made a strong case for it, Lucinda found herself in a quiet inn some miles out in the country an hour later. In a fisherman’s sweater and worn jeans, Jeff was still the best-looking man in the place.

  “Are you really upset about last night, Cinda? I thought it was pretty wonderful. Did it go all wrong for you somehow?”

  She stared through the window at the wintry sunshine in the garden behind him. “I’m…” The right words didn’t seem to come. She tried again. “I am upset, Jeff, but not because it went wrong. It went much too right. How can I do a decent job on your daughters’ wedding when, every time I see you, I want to be right back in your Babylonian brothel of a bedroom? And you’ll never think of me as just the wedding coordinator. You’ll be remembering me in anything but a professional light. I never, ever, let my personal life spill over into a professional relationship. Except this time I came to use a phone, and…and look what happened.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, yes, look what happened. I made love to the most beautiful, warm, giving woman ever to grace a man’s bed. I saw her crystal-blue eyes go dark with passion. Heard her cry out my name. Felt her tremble when I touched her. Saw her at last relax in my arms, peaceful and spent. Sweetheart, I don’t see a hell of a lot wrong with any of that.”

  “You’re hopeless.” And too damn distracting for me to think straight. “What’s wrong with it is I have a job to do. A job that takes every ounce of energy and concentration I can muster, particularly at this time of the year. And as my client, you’re entitled to have me do everything I can to make your event perfect. That’s why you hired me. You and five other clients.”

  “And you, Miss Hedgehog, are trying to tell me I can’t expect to find you at my door, looking wet, lost, and loveable again, until my daughters are on their way to wedded bliss? Is that it?” The twinkle in his eyes, the tilt of his head, suggested he found amusement, and possibly a challenge, in the situation.

  It would be so easy just to follow where he obviously wants to go. But—jeopardize the reputation, the standards I’ve worked so hard to create? Lucinda met his warm glance. “I can’t, Jeff. I just can’t. Professional consultation only. I make it a rule not to have personal relationships with clients. I don’t do weddings or events for friends, or relatives, or…or…”

  “Or lovers?” He tilted his chair back, gave her half a smile, and shrugged. “Okay, say I can live without you for a few weeks, Miss Parks. Tell me what’s on the agenda. What do we have to do to wind up this wedding business so I can get you back into my, what did you call it, a Babylonian brothel?”

  The image of his bedroom, the black-and-white-striped walls, the toile draperies heavy with gold fringe, the gold silk duvet with enough cushions for a harem, flashed in her mind.

  She forced her attention back to the issue. “We need the guest lists, with complete addresses, from both girls. And we need to mark off duplications. Sisters are bound to have them. The girls need to get back to me with their choice of invitations so we can get them engraved. I don’t know if they want to share one invitation or each choose one. And the cake? Two cakes? Four? Need answers on how many before we talk about what kind. I’ve sent both girls some ideas for flowers. We need decisions. And not all of Candace’s bridesmaids have come in for measurements yet. We need those so we can get their gowns ordered. Do you know if Shelby’s girls have ordered their…” She groped for the right word. “Their wedding attire?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure Shelby’s on top of it. You don’t need me for any of that, do you, sweetheart?” He knitted his brows in confusion. “What do I know about flowers and cakes?”

  “No, the girls will have to give me their decisions on flowers and cake. But I will be expecting some additions to the guest lists from you. Family friends, distant relatives, anyone from your past who would be hurt if not invited, whether they could come or not. Work on that. And meanwhile, I have to keep my mind on more than the details for Candace and Shelby. I have one wedding in May and four others in June, and all of them, one way or another, are just as complex as this one.”

  Jeff grinned. “I think you’re telling me any extracurricular activities for us are on hold. Did I get that right?”

  “You did.” A mental image of Jeff and his lovely leather sofa threatened to break her resolve. She banished the picture. “Twelve-hour days will be the norm. I’ll be a shrieking harridan by the end of June. And you wouldn’
t want to see me, honest.”

  “I’d want to see you, even in full harridan mode.” He reached across to take her hand. “But my life right now isn’t much better. I have a tight deadline for one project, the farmhouse thing I showed you, and I’m looking at some long days to get it finished in time.”

  That gorgeous, perfect little farmhouse? A tight deadline? If he’s building it as a wedding present for one of the girls, he really is tight for time.

  He interrupted her thoughts. “But how about dinner on Thursday night?”

  “Jeff, I just told you how things are.”

  He patted her hand. “I know, sweetheart, but you have to eat once in a while. And I have to bring you a guest list. You said so.” His look was so innocent, his eyes so deceptively wide and guileless, she had to laugh.

  “Dinner, and dinner only? With the guest list?”

  “Scout’s honor.”

  She knew better, but she told herself she’d keep the barriers up this time.

  Chapter 7

  Lucinda did manage to keep her barriers up during dinner with Jeff the next week, much to his obvious dismay. After that, they barely saw each other for almost a month. With communication limited to phone calls and one visit to the pastry chef creating two grooms’ cakes and one magnificent bridal cake, Lucinda had only a longing memory of a night spent in Jeff’s flamboyant bedroom. Late at night, when she was consumed with the mounting demands of her clients, she “borrowed back” the silkiness of his sheets, the warmth of his presence, and the feel of his sure and knowing touch. She wasn’t certain whether the memory helped or just made the yearning worse.