Walker held out his hand to her and led her into the bedroom. A shaft of moonlight found the narrow opening between her rich damask drapes and illuminated the bed, as though lighting the way to perfect ecstasy. He started to carefully unbutton the silken frog closures on her topaz-colored velvet vest. Kathryn was wearing nothing underneath it, and her skin immediately went from cool to warm as she felt his touch. He nuzzled her chest, licking off the remains of the Brownie Points he’d smeared there. The sensation was electrifying.
“Can I undress you, too?” she asked him.
He grinned mischievously. She thrust her hands into his sportcoat pocket. “Were you saving these for a rainy day?” she whispered, pulling out two Brownie Points. She placed them on the dresser, removed his blazer, his chocolate-stained white shirt; then deftly went for his belt buckle. “You’re quite accomplished at this,” he said impishly. “I especially like the way you . . . ohhh.”
Kathryn’s hand enveloped him. “I thought that might shut you up.” She knelt down, positioning herself at his feet. Her hands cupped and stroked him with feathery dexterity as she took him in her mouth. Kathryn, sensing his urgency, slowed her rhythm, teasing him, her tongue tracing sensuous circles that increased the intensity of his pleasure. As she suckled him she reached for a Brownie Point, crushing it with her hand. She applied the sweet chocolate paste to his skin, enjoying the melange of tastes.
His hands ravaged her hair, massaging her scalp, while she worked him in long, steady strokes. Walker moaned, then eased himself away from Kathryn and raised her to her feet. He slipped his hand underneath the silk triangle of her panties and felt her slickness. “Let’s get in the shower,” he murmured, as she moaned.
Amid the fragrant steam, they continued their exploration, soaping, teasing, cleansing one another of the smears and crumbs of chocolate. Walker stepped behind Kathryn, rubbing himself against the hollow of her back. He nibbled her neck as he lathered her hair, sending delicious tinglings into her scalp and down her spine.
“What if Eleanor had never had a party this evening?” Kathryn asked softly. “What if you didn’t have a way to run into me that was a sure bet? Would I have ended up some lonely old lady in a rocker caring for a dozen stray cats, pining away for the match that might have been, while you played the field for another few decades until your yearnings for succulent young female flesh made you the laughingstock of Manhattan?”
Walker ran his hands through her hair to rinse out the shampoo. “That’s the most unflattering portrait of either of us I can imagine.”
Kathryn turned to face him. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“Can I spread soap suds all over your breasts first?”
“Oh, all right. If you must, you must.” She wriggled under his gentle touch.
“Today was D-Day,” Walker whispered. “The third try is supposed to be the lucky one, and I’d promised myself that no matter the cost, I would tell you how important you are to me and that I don’t want to grow older without you. It came at a pretty high cost, too, I might add.”
“Yeah.” She smiled at him. “I’d all but given up on you.”
“That’s not the cost I mean,” he teased. “I ended up paying for the entire Brownie Points launch party!”
They stepped out of the shower and wrapped one another in enormous fluffy bath sheets, toweling each other dry. Then Walker lifted Kathryn into his arms and deposited her on the bed. He lay down beside her and held her, inhaling her fresh, clean scent.
“Yum. This feels so right,” she said, burrowing against him.
“It feels right because it is right and every way with you is the right way,” he whispered, darting his tongue in her ear, sending a series of electric shocks coursing through her body.
Her nerve endings were like fireworks, her body felt more and more electrified with every stroke. Kathryn arched her hips up to meet his hand, as he slid his fingers inside her. Wide-eyed, she watched as he tasted her by making a sensual show of licking his finger. She felt his breath on her neck, a rush of warmth against her increasing heat.
His hands began a slow, masterful exploration of her body, heightening her desire for more. Her thighs quivered as he caressed them ever so softly; then he inched up the length of her torso, gently fluttering over her, tracing the contours of her breasts, teasing her nipples to hardness, his touch generating increasingly exhilarating sensations, like the explosions of millions of tiny stars inside her. Everywhere his skilled fingers landed, her skin seemed to come more alive, as though experiencing sensation for the very first time.
He nuzzled the side of her neck, driving her so wild with the intensity of the feeling that she found herself writhing beneath him.
The fervor of Kathryn’s desire fueled Walker’s ardor. He sought her beautiful mouth, which yielded so sweetly, so fully to his own. Kathryn Lamb was his. Fully. Completely. And he was hers. What an exquisite thing, he thought as his lips made a thorough pilgrimage down Kathryn’s body, nibbling, nuzzling, finally burying his face in her sweet softness, teasing and tasting her with his tongue.
Walker took his time, letting his mouth brush over her as she moved rhythmically against him, allowing him to bring her higher and higher until she reached an ecstatic, exquisite plateau.
She felt as though she were floating in some form of divine suspension. Her body shuddered when he entered her. Welcome home, she thought. They meshed together as though they were made for one another. The moon-glow on his muscled back gave him an almost other-worldly look, like an angel sent to minister to her every need. Her earthly needs. Her every sexual desire. And minister he did. Walker seemed inexhaustible, moving so slowly at first that she cried out, begging him for more. “Don’t stop . . . please,” she heard herself plead. He obliged, treating her body to a banquet of strokes and speeds, knowing instinctively how to prolong her rhapsody and how to bring her to gradually increased heights of sensual gratification.
Walker’s release was the most sustained he ever could remember. And afterward, he held Kathryn in his arms, their bodies glistening with sweat and sex, their eyes shining with the light of someone truly fulfilled.
“Did I fall asleep?” Kathryn asked when she looked back up at Walker and noticed his eyes were wide open.
“It was beautiful,” he murmured, meeting her lips. “You looked so sweet and peaceful. Like a little Pre-Raphaelite angel.”
She snuggled against him. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Everything.”
“You know, according to the terms of your Six in the City renegotiated contract, I still owe you a sixth bachelor.”
“I’ll waive my rights. In case you hadn’t already figured that out.”
He stroked her head. “I love your hair, Kathryn,” he said, seeming to ignore her remark. “It’s so much fun to play with.” Walker ran his fingers through her tangled tendrils. He shifted his position so he could face her and they could talk eye to eye. “You see, I took a lot of time to think things over. But the only thing that makes sense to me is to follow through with my offer and fix you up with a sixth eligible man. Someone who really wants to get married to a beautiful curly-haired red-head; someone who will love and cherish and adore her, and fry bacon with her on Sunday mornings, and read the Sunday Times to her while she bakes gingerbread cookies in whimsical shapes. I want to hear anything you have to say—and I promise I’ll remember it. I want to make you laugh every day; I want to hold you when you need to cry and I feel blessed every time you unburden your soul, open your heart, and share your body with me. I love you. There, I said it again. That’s twice in one night. Kathryn, I hope your reaction to the brass ring means that you’ll give me a try as Bachelor Number Six.”
Tears of joy welled up once again inside her. “You are one goddamn special guy, Walker Hart. I accept.”
His kiss tasted of fire and desire and promise. “You have no idea how hard it was for me to fix you up with all these eligible . . .”
K
athryn arched an eyebrow.
“And not as eligible as they had represented themselves . . . men. Actually, I felt that way from the day you walked into Six in the City; it just took me a long time to come to terms with it. Every night I went to sleep wondering if I was going to lose you to the next guy . . . even when Josh succinctly observed that I didn’t even have you to begin with. But in my mind . . . or my ego, I guess, I felt you were mine all along. Josh also said something else to me awhile back . . . about you.”
“What was that?” Kathryn whispered, running her hands through Walker’s hair.
“He reminded me that I don’t have to be like my mother; that I have a choice. I don’t have to run away from things; I can run toward them and embrace them. It was an epiphany. It’s very easy to avoid commitment if you’ve never been in love before. Then, I met you, and suddenly, after a lifetime of mocking the idea of matrimony, I had to do some serious soul-searching. All my life, I’ve been saying one thing and craving another. My aversion to marriage was funneled through the kaleidoscope of Rushie’s myriad relationships. I kept running away from anything that might lead me toward commitment because I was using her template when all along, it’s what I’ve really always wanted; I’ve just been too scared to give voice to it and make it happen . . . but I’m finally ready. In you I’ve met my match.”
“You know what this means, don’t you, Bear?”
“I do.”
Kathryn kissed him deeply. “Damn right, you amazingly wonderful, heart-stoppingly sexy man. It means ‘I do.’ ”
“I said it this evening in front of a room full of strangers and I’ll say it again now. The last of the dyed-in-the wool bachelors is freely, happily, decidedly kissing single life good-bye. This is a huge deal for me, you realize? Our love is so important that I’m willing to commit to an admitted shopaholic.”
Kathryn stifled a giggle. “I promise not to make too big a dent in your wallet.”
Walker deposited kisses on Kathryn’s nose, mouth, and chin. He smiled, his eyes sparkling a deep shade of teal. “Let’s get dressed; I have something to show you.”
She felt herself blush a bit. “I think you already did. Besides,” she added, “shouldn’t I shower again?”
“I think you smell pretty good right now, actually. Anyway, we’re not going far. Just upstairs.” He swung his long legs over the side of the bed, stood up and extended his hand to Kathryn, pulling her into a hug.
“Wha . . . what happened to this place?” Kathryn stammered when Walker opened the door to the penthouse and gestured grandly toward the interior. The boring “brut champenoise” wall-to-wall broadloom had been replaced with large Oriental carpets in jewel tones. The parquet floor peeking out from underneath the fringed edges of the antique Persian rugs gleamed. Where the butt-ugly “amoeba” glass and chrome table had stood, there was an ebony coffee table with graceful curved edges embellished with stunning cutwork.
“Now I understand why one would want Austrian shades,” Walker said, raising the soft white swags, exposing the view across the Hudson. The night’s full moon illuminated the river so that the swift current seemed like an endless ripple of diamonds flowing southward to the Atlantic. “Finally, they match the décor.”
“Why did you do all this, Bear? And by the way, what does your mother think about your redecorating?”
“It’s none of her business.”
“Isn’t this her apartment?”
“Not anymore. Rushie is thoroughly convinced that the marriage to Gilligan . . .”
“Gillian.”
“. . . will last forever. She said this place never felt like home anyway.”
“Quelle surprise. She was never here.”
“So I bought the mortgage from her.” Walker seized the opportunity to thoroughly kiss Kathryn’s open mouth. “The Connecticut property is still under sublease. And . . .” he added, “I’ve grown rather accustomed to the view.”
Flustered, her heart beating with joy, anticipation, shock, amazement, and other emotions her mind was racing too fast to put a name to it, Kathryn nodded toward the river vista. “You mean the . . .”
Walker turned her face back to meet his. “No, I mean this view.” His kiss was deep and sweet and full of . . . well, commitment.
“And I was thinking,” he said slowly, “that your apartment is a bit small . . . for two people . . . so I was wondering if . . . if I ‘Kathryn-ized’ this place, that you might consider . . . ? And I didn’t take down the Warhol yet, but I thought you might want to hang one of your Pre-Raphaelite prints, if you decide to . . . you know . . . move in here. That is, if you like the place.”
He led Kathryn to the sofa; the leather monstrosity had been replaced with a handsome couch with oversized pillows upholstered in a rich paisley textile. “And you wondered what I was doing all that time after we got back from the Vineyard,” he teased. “Wait . . . there’s something else. Stay there.” He poured them each a glass of sherry, then sat down at the piano and started to play.
Kathryn closed her eyes, enjoying the melodic rhapsody.
“If you were expecting The Torykillers, I apologize,” he teased. Then Walker started to sing in an impressively professional baritone.
As the last note faded away, Kathryn suddenly realized that he had written the exquisitely gorgeous song just for her. She was completely overwhelmed. “Oh, my God,” she breathed. “It’s so . . . it’s . . . so beautiful.” She patted the sofa, grateful for the reassurance that the furniture beneath her was solid, because everything else seemed so unreal.
Walker knelt by her side, clasping her hands in his. “Kathryn Lamb, would you—will you—do me the honor of marrying me?”
“Gee, Bear,” Kathryn said, happy, happy tears coursing down her cheeks, “it’s quite a magnanimous offer. But you see, I’m not so sure I can accept.”
He looked completely crestfallen.
Her wicked little smile reassured him immensely. “Simply because . . . I haven’t seen what you’ve done with the boudoir yet.”
In an instant, she had been scooped up into his arms in a single sweeping motion. They headed for the bedroom, Kathryn’s long red curls cascading over Walker’s shoulder, their lips fused in an ecstatic give and take of passion and desire.
“Ms. Lamb,” Walker said huskily, during a brief pause for breath, “we’ve had this date from the beginning.”
An Ivy Book
Published by The Ballantine Publishing Group
Copyright © 2002 by Leslie Sara Carroll
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by The Ballantine Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
Ivy Books and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
www.ballantinebooks.com
www.randomhouse.com
eISBN: 978-0-307-41608-7
v3.0
Miss Match Page 31