by Laurie Paige
The night air rushed over her, cool and sensuous. The sun flared inside her. When she stood no more than a foot from the moonlight-clad male figure, she pulled the ties and let the robe drop from her.
He waited, his eyes drinking her in, his mouth curved in a half smile. She looked at him expectantly. He waited.
She eased one strap off her shoulder, then the other. The gown slithered down her body. Her skin was so sensitive, she could feel the slightest vibration in the air. She shook her hair back and looked at him.
He waited.
Slowly, like someone in a dream, she held her hand out.
He clasped it in his and turned toward the pool. To- gether they took the plunge.
As soon as they came up for air, she touched him, wrapping her arms around his chest, her legs around his hips. She felt his surprise, but she didn’t care. She needed his strength.
She clung to him with all her might. “Make love to me.” She didn’t know whether she was begging or de- manding. “Make love to me now.”
“All right.” He locked his arms around her and climbed out of the pool.
She lifted her head from his shoulder. “Where are we going?”
“To our room.”
His eyes met hers. Consent was given and an agree- ment was reached in that moon-blinded moment.
In their room, he made love to her for a long time before he let the final moment roll over them in wild delight.
Chapter Ten
Isa woke to wet kisses being pressed over her face. She kept her eyes closed, afraid to face the day.
“I know you’re awake,” Harrison murmured, with a chuckle vibrating over the words.
She opened her eyes. A hot flush crept into her face as she remembered her wanton conduct. You’ll have to ask, he’d told her soon after their wedding. She’d done more than that. Last night, she’d begged.
Make love to me, she’d said by the pool. Please, please, please, she’d said in his bed during their love- making.
A sheen of perspiration coated her as embarrassment sent the heated blood pounding through every part of her. With it came the desire and the need to lose herself in his arms again…and again…and again.
“I…it’s time to get up.”
“Um-hmm,” he agreed, taking nips along her ear, then down to her throat. He threw one leg over both of hers and pulled her close, tucking her into the curve of his body. Against her thigh, she felt the growing force of his erection, warm and hard and wholly masculine.
Against her will, she recalled the tenderness of his touch, the strength that he’d so carefully controlled as he’d brought her the gift of exquisite pleasure.
“Your skin reminds me of gardenia petals. It was my mother’s favorite flower.”
“I’m allergic to gardenias.”
He ran a finger between her breasts in gentle swishes. “I’ll remember that,” he promised. He bent and kissed the very tip of one nipple.
Tingles shot through her like Fourth of July sparklers. Her skin where he’d touched her contracted into a hard bead.
“Am I dreaming?” he asked, kissing the corner of her mouth.
“A nightmare,” she quipped, grappling with her slip- ping composure. “Probably something you ate.”
At his amused look, she blushed wildly.
“I’ve thought of waking up with you for so many mornings, I’m afraid this is another fantasy.”
“I think…”
He skimmed lightly down her body.
“We should…”
Pausing, he ran his fingers through the tight curls.
“That we should…”
Her mind went completely off track when he dipped into the intimate folds of her body. She was moist and ready for him.
“So do I,” he whispered against her lips as he bent to kiss her again. “We should…very definitely…”
By the time he moved over her, she was aching with eagerness for his total caress. He brought her to a shattering climax before letting his own hunger have its way.
Afterward, he held her without speaking. She fought a terrible need to cry. Her eyes moistened against her will.
“Tears?” He looked puzzled. “Are you sad?”
She shook her head helplessly, embarrassed by the show of emotion. “No. It’s just…”
“Guilt?” he suggested in a wry tone.
She felt the return of his suspicion, heard the skep- ticism in his voice that only moments before had been husky and tender. The wrench of her heart told her she was in danger of doing something stupid…like thinking the passionate moments between them meant some- thing. She moved out of his embrace, needing distance in order to regain control.
“No,” she denied. “I’ve kept my part of the bar- gain.”
A wave of raw fury swept over his face. For a second, he looked as if he wanted to choke her. Instead, he swung out of bed. “And did it quite well,” he said coolly. “Shall I have Maggie move your things over?”
His eyes darkened when she hesitated. “I’ll do it,” she said quickly. He nodded, then headed for the shower.
“The flowers look nice. Do you think we planned for enough food? There will probably be thirty people. Un- less everyone from the center brings a guest, then we might have more.”
Isa surveyed the table laden with Maggie’s special hors d’oeuvres, which were Mexican in flavor—fajita roll-ups, poco pollafundidas, flavored chips and six dif- ferent dips varying in spiciness from mild to singe-your-eyebrows hot. Maybe she should have planned a couple more varieties.
“There’s plenty.” Maggie removed cocktail quiches from the oven. “I have extra of everything in the freezer. If we run low, I’ll pop another package in the oven.”
“Oh, good. That’s good.” She rearranged the platters of food and aligned the napkins once more.
“Relax,” Maggie advised. “You’re as nervous as a cat at an old folks’ home.”
Isa looked at her blankly.
“You know—old folks, rocking chairs.” Maggie rolled her eyes when Isa continued to stare at her. “Rocking chairs, cat’s tails, as in getting caught un- der?”
“Oh,” Isa said. She paced between the kitchen and the living room, checking for anything they might have overlooked. “Yes, I am a little nervous. This is my first party.”
“What do you mean, first party?”
She smiled at Maggie’s doubting tone. “You know— guests, food, laughter. It’s the very first I’ve given.”
“Ever?”
“Yes. Do you think we should switch the table cen- terpiece with the one on the—”
“It’s fine. You had birthday parties when you were a kid, didn’t you?”
Isa shook her head. “Never had ‘em, never went to one, although I was invited to a couple. I couldn’t afford a gift. Oh, speaking of money, where did I put that deposit receipt?”
She’d gone to the center earlier, collected the meager receipts from various activities and put them in the night deposit at the bank before hurrying home to help Mag- gie with the party. Harrison hadn’t arrived yet.
Today had been the closing day of the community center. She and Harrison were having a farewell get- together for the staff of volunteers who had made the center possible.
She found the receipt in her purse and put it in the folder on the desk in Harrison’s room…their room. She paused by the bed. She and Harrison had shared it as husband and wife for ten nights, counting this one.
In spite of Maggie’s approval that they now had a “real” marriage, her future seemed more uncertain to her. She had a few details to close out next week, then she’d be out of a job. She didn’t know what she’d do after that.
Maggie handed her a platter when she returned to the kitchen and loaded more quiches onto a plate covered with a red napkin. “Relax,” she advised again.
“Does…has Harrison had parties here before?” Isa asked, coming back for the next dish.
“He has a Christmas party
for the office every year.”
“Here?”
“Uh-huh. Oh, and a pool party on the Fourth of July.”
“For the office people?”
“It varies, who he invites.”
“Oh. Is this what he usually serves? Do you think he’ll like the color scheme? Or the flowers? Oh,” she repeated, flying to the door, “they’re here.”
Maggie’s laughter followed her.
Her husband, handsome in a dark suit, led the way and their guests followed him, the sounds of their voices mingling with the birdcalls in the night. Isa tried not to appear nervous.
“We’re here,” he said and surprised her with a kiss.
Harrison noticed the glaze of—panic?—in Isa’s eyes as she clutched his arm, then let go and turned to their guests. He watched his lovely wife in puzzlement until he saw her slip into her usual mode—the cool, unflap- pable woman who had everything under control.
Except when she came apart in his arms.
Desire stirred in him. So what else was new? He’d wanted her from the moment they’d met.
His wife was incredibly beautiful in a flame-red dress that was sleeveless and dropped to a low point between her breasts. She wore a simple gold chain around her neck and matching ones in her ears. She wore no rings other than her wedding band.
Soft music played on the stereo. A couple started dancing. Others joined in. Ah, a good idea.
Before he could wind his way through the crowd, the director of the youth programs grabbed Isa and pulled her into a fox-trot.
He stopped, frowning as prickles of emotion darted through him. Nah, he wasn’t jealous. No way. He backed up to the breakfast bar and watched while the strange feeling gnawed at him. He was annoyed that someone else had claimed Isa, that was all. He’d wanted her first dance.
Maggie replenished the refreshment table, then re- turned to the kitchen. She stood in her usual place on the other side of the counter and observed the crowd.
“Did you know this is your wife’s first party?” she asked in a low voice. “Her first ever.”
He flicked the housekeeper a glance of inquiry.
“She was so nervous that everything wasn’t just right. She wanted it to be perfect…for you.”
Somehow Maggie, who had been his friend for years, had gone over to Isa’s side during his brief marriage, especially since Isa had moved her things to his room.
“I’ll be sure to tell her everything was wonderful,” he promised, thinking of the hours ahead. A slow warmth spread through him.
He noticed the volunteer basketball coach, a young man about Isa’s age, had stolen her away from the di- rector and was now leading her into the intricate series of steps of a tango. To his surprise, she did them flaw- lessly.
Others stopped dancing and gave the couple room to perform. The blond-haired Adonis and the black-haired Venus danced as if they were longtime partners, moving effortlessly to the music, the beat a part of them as they performed an exotic pantomime of seduction, refusal and finally surrender. They ended the dance in a sensual embrace with Adonis holding Venus bent back over his arm, his body half covering hers.
“Watch it,” Maggie cautioned. “You’re in danger.”
“Of what?” he asked, unable to take his eyes off the pair.
“Of falling in love with your wife.” She laughed as the blood flowed into his face. “Don’t ruin her party.”
He got a grip on the rage that pumped through him. He didn’t even understand what he was upset about. So his wife and some young, good-looking guy had danced as if they belonged to the same body, so what?
Meeting Maggie’s eyes, he saw a warning in them.
“It’ll work out,” she told him, “but you must deal with other problems between you first. Then, I think, you will find your own true love.”
“Been reading smoke signals again, Maggie?”
She smiled. “Yes. The future is yours…if you know how to take it.”
He gave a snort, exasperated with her cryptic portent of things to come. “See if you can read the smoke a bit more clearly. I need directions.”
“Start with the brother.”
She went to the refrigerator and removed a gallon jug of punch. While she refilled the bowl, he thought about her last statement. Maybe it was time he stepped in with Rick. He’d left the boy to his sister’s care, but maybe the kid needed a man’s touch. He knew one way to control teenagers.
Striding across the room, he deftly plucked his wife from the arms of the Adonis and pulled her into his. He looped her arms around his shoulders and put both arms around her waist, holding her with no space between them as a slow love-ballad filled the night.
He danced her out the open doors onto the balcony and into the shadows, ignoring the teasing calls from their guests as he did. He wanted to hold her. It was as imperative as breathing.
“It’s a good thing I know you’ll be in my bed to- night,” he whispered for her ears only.
She drew back to gaze up at him. “Why?”
“Because I’d be jealous as hell otherwise.”
“Of Tony?” Her expression was one of disbelief.
“A man likes to know his wife finds him more de- sirable than other men.”
“Oh, I do.” Her eyes sparkled. She lowered her lashes and brushed against him, flaunting her awareness of the passion he couldn’t hide.
“Jezebel. You’ll pay for that…later.”
“Promises, promises…”
When she laughed, he found himself intrigued all over again by the woman he’d married. Temptress, wife, defender of her little family. She was also a black- mailer who had dollar signs in her heart. He’d better remember that when he got to feeling soft toward her.
Isa handed the keys over to the night watchman who guarded the buildings on the block. Leaving the community center locked and empty seemed as terrible as abandoning a friend in need.
“See you in the fall.”
“Take care, Mrs. Stone.” He signed and dated a re- ceipt, then handed it to her. After stuffing the keys in his jacket pocket, he zipped it closed.
She walked down the block to the parking lot where the red sports car which she now drove was parked. Harrison was there.
“How about dinner somewhere quiet?”
The invitation was delivered with a moody frown. The ever-present anger flickered. Only in bed, when the passion flared bright and pure between them, did his distrust of her recede.
Sometimes his attitude stung like a paper cut, but only time would convince him he could trust her. When the year was up and Rick was released, she’d go quietly. Then Harrison would know she had always intended to keep her word. That he knew she was honorable was important to her.
“That sounds lovely.” She got in his car when he opened the door. “I feel like I’m playing hooky.”
Harrison studied her while snapping his seat belt. “You’ve never had many chances to skip away from responsibilities and have fun, have you?” he asked on a different note.
She was instantly on guard. One thing she didn’t take was pity from anyone. She’d had enough of that from well-meaning neighbors while she was growing up. She wondered what she’d done to elicit it from her husband.
His mouth curved into a sardonic smile. “Relax. This isn’t going to hurt a bit.”
“I didn’t expect that it would,” she said stiffly.
“Always direct and to the point,” he commented, glancing her way and back at the road. He headed south of town and made a series of turns onto some obscure streets before parking in front of an Italian restaurant. “One of Reno’s best-kept secrets,” he said, helping her out and into the tiny place.
Inside, a man played a violin while another accom- panied him on the piano. A set of drums stood unused at the side. A haunting rendition of “La Dolce Notte” tugged at her heartstrings while the hostess led them to a table.
Framed posters from Italian operas hung from every available wall space. Dark
green cloths covered the ta- bles and votive candles shone through ruby canisters covered with net. It was very romantic. Harrison or- dered kir royales for them.
“Champagne with black-currant liqueur,” she sur- mised after taking a taste from one of the fluted glasses.
“Right. To my beautiful wife,” he said softly, “who blushes each time I compliment her. Now why is that? A man might think you were an innocent instead of a cunning deceiver.”
The illusion of romance faded, although a part of her wanted to pretend all was wonderful between them. An- other part was on guard. Her husband’s eyes probed hers as if looking for all her secrets. It would be so easy to tell him, to let herself grow used to sharing life with him, to think they were in love….
No. Love played no part in her plans. A year, she reminded herself, then she and Rick would have to go. For a moment, she was frightened as she thought of the future. She remembered the loneliness of the past and the responsibility that her fiancé hadn’t wanted to shoul- der. He hadn’t wanted a ready-made family. Neither would Harrison, not for keeps.
A splatter of applause broke the tense moment. A man, familiar to her, walked over to the piano. He and the two musicians consulted, then, having agreed upon the selection, he burst into song. His voice was powerful and moving.
“Why, he’s from one of the casino shows,” she ex- claimed, recalling his face on a poster. “The visiting lead from a Broadway musical. I’m impressed.”
“Yeah, word gets around. Lots of stars wander in here for a few hours of relaxation. They can sing, put on a skit or ignore everybody. It’s up to them.”
“I see.”
“It’s a place a man can enjoy a quiet moment with the special woman in his life.”
“Or even his wife.”
“Someday I’m going to slip past that sharp tongue of yours,” he murmured, “and leave you speechless.”
“You already did that. Remember when you ac- cepted the…um…marriage proposal?”
“I haven’t forgotten a word of our wonderful court- ship,” he assured her.
She gave him a suspicious once-over. She didn’t trust him when he was in this overly congenial mood, which he’d been in for days now. Since she’d moved in with him.