‶I′d love to go with you, but you see, I didn′t come here alone.″
‶And your mother taught you to always see the girl to her door?″
His eyebrows rose in mock surprise. ‶Do you know my mother?″
Elizabeth laughed. She hoped his mood was changing, that the man who entered her apartment tonight was coming back. Not the one who left.
‶Would you like to dance?″
‶I′d love to dance,″ she said.
In the main salon, James turned her into his arms and Elizabeth melted. She barely heard the sound of the band or the lounge singer. A music all her own played in her head. It felt good being in James′s arms again. She felt as if her life had been suspended since he left three years ago, and she′d buried herself in work. Tonight work wasn′t so important. Nothing was as important as the way she felt. The way James made her feel.
For hours, they danced, talked, smiled at other people and wondered if they were as happy as the two of them. Finally, it was time to leave. Elizabeth walked on air, humming softly to herself as they slipped into the elevator and ascended to the top floor of the Stanford Arms Apartments. James had his arm around her waist and she′d never been happier.
‶I had a wonderful time,″ she said at her door. Elizabeth inserted the key and pushed inward. James followed her inside. She dropped the keys on the foyer table with her purse.
He grabbed her arms as she started to walk further into the apartment. ‶I think I′d better say goodnight.″
Elizabeth frowned. She didn′t want him to leave. ‶Don′t you want a drink, some coffee, or something.″
He stared at her. Elizabeth recognized the mood he′d had earlier, before they left. ‶Yes, Elizabeth,″ he said. ‶I would like something...but you don′t drink it. And if I stay...″ he left the phrase hanging. ‶Good night, sweetheart. I′ll see you tomorrow.″
He kissed her on the mouth. A kiss so tender Elizabeth thought she′d float away. Then he left her. The door clicked as he closed it. She stood there stunned, staring at the closed portal, wondering why he′d left her alone. How had she gotten to this point? They′d only shared five days together and not five whole days, only parts of them. Yet she′d changed. She′d hated James for years and in five days he′d changed her into a woman who wanted him desperately and when he could have had her, he left.
Why?
Chapter 5
James turned over for the hundredth time. The clock on the night table read three o′clock. Why couldn′t he sleep? Wasn′t everything going as he planned? Elizabeth was falling in love with him. He could have stayed tonight, made love to her. God knows he wanted to. Why didn′t he? And why did he feel like such a heel? He′d done nothing wrong. She was the woman he loved, the one he wanted to spend his life with, the one he needed to complete himself.
‶Claire,″ he breathed with all the malice he could muster. Even from the grave she was between them. She′d always be between, unless he could get Elizabeth to understand what Claire had been trying to do. How she manipulated people to get what she wanted; how she used everyone -- himself, even Elizabeth, her loving sister. If it hadn′t been for Theresa telling him Claire′s plan, Elizabeth wouldn′t have Invitation to Love. Claire would have seen to that.
Punching his pillow and flopping over on his stomach, James tried for a comfortable position and the inevitable coming of sleep -- both eluded him. Then he thought of Elizabeth. She had changed some in the last three years. Her appearance was markedly different, most due to the short hair cut. She was thinner and sadness seem to prevail over her. She smiled in all the right places and appeared at the right events, but behind her eyes was reserved sadness. In the last few days he′d seen some of it disappear. God, he hoped he was responsible for taking it away. He wanted it all gone. Not a trace of it left to hang over her. He wanted Elizabeth happy. After spending her life trailing Claire from one tenement to another she deserved a better life. Damn, she was there again -- Claire, between them.
He turned back over, his arm across his forehead as if he could ward off the memories. What was Elizabeth doing now, he wondered. Was she awake thinking of him. His body hardened at the thought. Now he wished he′d taken her up on her invitation to stay the night. She hardly knew she′d issued it, but it was clear to him.
Listening to the quiet, he willed his body to calm down. In the distance he heard a dog barking, the wind pushing at the windows and the faint hum of car engine. Kicking the covers aside, James turned the lamp switch on and got out of bed. Pushing his arms into the maroon velour robe, he belted it. He found his slippers and headed for the kitchen.
Leaving a messy kitchen for Mrs. Andrews two nights in a row would be uncharacteristic for him; just as not being able to sleep. Hot milk might help, but he hated it. He was after cold milk and cold chicken.
At the bottom of the steps, something caught his eye. Sticking in the mail slot was a white envelope. It hadn′t been there when he′d come in. Mail was never delivered through the slot. He had a rural box at the edge of the property. The slot was merely decoration. The door hadn′t been part of the original purchase. When he′d bought the house, a year before Elizabeth agreed to marry him, the entry door was the only thing he didn′t like. During a business trip to Charleston he′d found an old building being demolished. He bought the Corinthian columned door and had it installed.
Grabbing the envelope, he recognized Elizabeth′s precise handwriting. With all the styles of lettering she′d mastered, her own writing was almost straight up and down with no slant and an economy of flamboyancy. When had she delivered this? He′d left her at her apartment just after midnight. Suddenly he remembered the engine hum. Yanking the door open he scanned the area. She was there, near the curb.
‶Elizabeth!″
She was almost in her car, but his shout drew her attention. James dropped the envelope and ran. She wasn′t in the driveway, but had walked up from the street, some fifty yards away. Getting to her was the most important thing he′d ever done. She stood still, watching. He wasn′t sure what had brought her here. He only knew he wasn′t going to let her leave.
James′s breath congealed in the cold air. His heart burst in his chest. He didn′t ask why she′d come here. He didn′t ask why he hadn′t rang the bell. He took her in his arms and kissed her. The blowing wind, swirls of snow that threatened to turn into the Capital′s first snow fall, didn′t touch him. He had Elizabeth. Nothing else mattered. She shuttered against him. His lips grazed hers. He held the back of her head and ground his mouth into hers.
Elizabeth′s arms went around his waist. She shifted, wedging herself against him. James′s body tightened. Passion flared between them. His tongue swept into her mouth. He crushed her against him, knowing his strength could break her bones, yet feeling the weakness she caused in him. His hands moved over her, from her shoulder blades to her hips. James couldn′t believe she was here; in his arms, returning his kiss. He was losing control. Her mouth was a seductive narcotic under his. He wanted her now!
Elizabeth returned his embrace with equal force and fervor. Moving her away from the car he slammed the door and led her toward the open doorway.
‶What are you doing here?″ he asked between kisses when they were inside and he held her against the closed door. He didn′t give her time to answer. He took her mouth again, trading one hungry kiss for another. His hands wanted to explore every part of her body, but her coat inhibited him. Stepping back he found the fasteners and released them running his hands inside the fur and pulling her slender frame into contact with his.
Elizabeth′s passion-filled eyes stared at him in the half light. Her mouth was swollen from his kisses. Between them hung the oldest unspoken language in human history. Desire had gnawed at him for days. He couldn′t resist it any longer. She was here -- real, warm, soft, and filling his arms.
‶Elizabeth,″ he groaned. ‶I′m so glad you came.″
‶I couldn′t sleep,″ she told him, her
body pressing into his.
He reached down, slipping his arm under her knees, and lifting her from the floor. With her head resting against his shoulder he mounted the wide staircase and entered the master suite.
Elizabeth hadn′t been in this room in three years, yet she knew every inch of it. Maroon and green paisley drapes hung at the windows perfectly matching the rumpled comforter on the king-size bed. James held her close. She listened to his heart pounding strongly under her ear. He lowered her feet to the carpeted floor, keeping her close. She didn′t move away from him. Her arms slid down his chest and she trembled at the sensation flowing through her body. She could feel the need pooling between her legs. Elizabeth told herself she had come to leave the letter; that it was a prank and James would get a good laugh out of it in the morning. She knew it was a lie. She wanted to find him. She wanted him to come to the door and see her. And she wanted to be here now. This is where she′d wanted to be for three years.
James′s reentry into her life had shown her how much she′d missed him, enjoyed his smile, his playfulness. She wanted to forget the past; think only of the moment.
Her fingers inched to the opening of his robe. Fire burned her as she skimmed his chest, but she kept going. Holding her breath Elizabeth leaned forward and placed her open mouth in the V of his robe. She felt the tremor shake him. Strong hands grasped her arms. Smoothing her fingertips over his hot skin, she undid the tied knot. With one fingernail, she outlined his male breasts, then flattened her fingers and rubbed them across his nipples. Small numbs hardened under her tutelage. James′s hands tightened like vises around her arms.
‶Elizabeth.″ His voice, thick with emotion, shook.
He brushed through her hair, angling her head upward. His eyes, dark and smoldering, looked almost painful with need.
‶Are you sure?″ he asked.
Elizabeth nodded.
Slowly his features blurred as he captured her mouth again. This time the kiss was slow, tender, passionate, the way their first kiss had been. Her arms circled his neck, her body liquefying, melting into him.
James had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Elizabeth. He told himself there was too much between them that needed to be cleared before they could go on with their lives. He told himself clearing the air was the honorable thing to do; stepping back and allowing his brain to lead him. But at that moment, Elizabeth rubbed herself against him. Rapturous spasms coursed through him and all thought left him, except the one that said this was the only woman in the world for him.
Bending down he kissed her ear where the earring brushed her skin. Soft, delicious sound, like purrs, came from her throat. He liked hearing her moans, hoped they would continue. His hands brushed up and down her back, cupping her round hips and pulling her closer to his own hard body. She gasped at the action. A smile touched his lips at the rapture he saw on her face. Then he kissed her lips, unable to resist the habit forming opia. Pushing her coat off her shoulders, he let it slide to the floor. Her sequined gown had been exchanged for a grey knit dress that hugged her curves. Finding the zipper at the back, he lowered it with restrained patience. Then peeled the dress away, revealing skin as smooth and clear as white wine.
When the dress joined her coat, Elizabeth stood in only a black teddy and stockings. Electricity suddenly snapped in the air, an obvious reaction to the furnace burning in his gut. His body, already erect and ready, was stabbed with a wave of desire so strong he was sure his control would erupt. Pushing her down, she sat on the side of the bed. Kneeling before her he unhooked her stockings, kissing the skin where the delicate nylon ended. Elizabeth′s hands gently massaged his back. He felt his muscles contract at her touch. Intense emotions swept through him.
She closed her eyes and tried to breathe. Her skin was on fire. Wherever James touched her she thought she′d incinerate evaporate into a steaming gas. The torture he put her through was more than she could handle. Biting her lower lip she tried desperately not to scream, but she could hear the moan coming from her own throat. He removed her stockings with a slowness that knotted her stomach, then unable to continue at an unhurried pace, made quick work of the teddy. The light behind him bathed his skin in a healthy glow of burnished brown. His robe joined forces with her discarded clothes at the foot of the bed.
James joined her, pushing her back and uncoiling his body down the length of hers. She splayed her hands over his broad shoulders, feeling his muscles contract and relax under her palms. Quickly she raked her nails down his back. He arched against her. She reveled in the feel of his naked skin next to hers, hot like a scented oil.
He kissed her shoulder, his hands running over her length in slow motion. Elizabeth caught her breath, burying her face in his skin. His hands worked erotically over her, pausing to sample spots he seemed to like. When the pads of his thumbs grazed her breasts, she called his name. His mouth replaced the exquisite torture of his hands, suckling the wine-colored strawberries as if it had been made for this one task. Lingeringly he went on, tasting her body in minute detail. Elizabeth sunk her fingers into his shoulders. Her mouth opened without sound as she struggled to control the screams threatening to break forth.
‶God,″ she prayed. ‶I don′t think I can wait any longer.″
With lightning speed James opened the bedside table and grabbed the foil pouch to protect them. Heat enveloped them as James leveled himself over her. Kneeing her legs apart, he entered her easily. Elizabeth let out a long breath, filled with three years of yearning. Emotion welled up inside her large enough to burst through her chest. His gentle movement took her by surprise as the intensity of feeling flooded her senses and threatened to overload.
‶James,″ she moaned. ‶I′ve missed you.″
‶I′ve missed you too, honey.″
She didn′t know how much he′d missed her, how many nights he′d dreamed of having her here in this room, in his bed, making love to her until she screamed. He wanted her to scream. Wanted her to call out his name in hungry desire. He wanted to possess her and be possessed by her. He kissed her again, grasping her supple buttocks and lifting her onto him. Her legs anchored behind him, giving him room. He sank deeper and deeper into her folds with each powerful stroke. His control has long since gone. Elizabeth did that to him, like no other woman ever had or ever could. With her he couldn′t hold anything back. He gave and took as she did. Together they created the perfect match, a union that had no beginning and no end. With her he made love.
James didn′t remember how good she could feel. He touched her everywhere, cradling, crushing, kissing, massaging, until a great tide gripped him. His rhythm increased, intensified as he cried her name over and over. He never thought he′d ever have this feeling again. Then it happened. Great bursts of electrified air imploded, carrying them into the mushroom cloud of magnificent pleasure.
She took his weight as the last after-shock ran through James and he collapsed onto her. They were both wet with perspiration and love. The room smelled sweet with the aftermath of their lovemaking. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him. A smile curved her mouth as she closed her eyes, aware of every throbbing inch of his frame as it covered her, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. His heart pounded against hers.
After a time, James slid to the sheet over to her. He gathered her close, kissed her eyes, her cheeks and her mouth as tenderly as if he were saying goodnight. Then silently they slept.
***
Dear James,
Your visit sparked good memories of Christmases past. It sent me to the storage room. While rummaging through old boxes of decorations, I found a card you sent to me several years ago. The cover had a reproduction of the scraggly handwriting of eight year old Virginia O′Hanlon′s letter to the editor of The New York Sun. Inside was printed the famous editorial run by the paper on September 21, 1897.
You asked me if I believed in Christmas, and like Virginia′s question, I′d like to answer it.
Yes, James, I believe there is a Chris
tmas. Last night a group of children came caroling in front of the shop. Their tiny faces were stung by the cold, their eyes wide with innocence and wonder. My heart grew so large I thought I would cry. When they left I walked through Georgetown, looking in the store windows. The streets were crowded with shoppers. I watched them picking out gifts for loved ones, deciding whether something was right for Uncle Jim or Aunt Agnes. It was easy to pick out the faces of lovers, holding hands and walking through the cobblestoned streets as they both made and shared Christmas memories.
In each direction I looked, the windows were decorated with green and red for the coming holidays. In a small store close to M Street, I found a Black Santa mounted on his sleigh with the eight reindeer and a sack full of presents. I bought it. It′s the first decoration I′ve bought in three years. The purchase made me smile, and a warmth filled my insides. Nothing has done that in a long time.
At home I dragged the Christmas decorations out of storage and into the living room where I went through them all. Christmas is a time of sharing, remembering old friends and making new ones. Rereading the cards and carefully unpacking the bulbs we′d stored showed me how much I missed the merry making Christmas brings. The years I′ve spent without a Christmas seem empty compared to the ones where family and friends shared the joy.
Happy Holidays
Elizabeth
James read the letter twice. In the wake of Elizabeth′s unexpected arrival he′d forgotten about the it. It lay on the floor by the door, where he′d dropped it last night when he sprinted across the lawn. Taking it to the kitchen he read it a third time as coffee filled the pot and the aroma permeated the crisp air. He remembered last night. Elizabeth filled his arms and his world. He liked thinking of her sleeping upstairs. Sharing his bed and his life. He wanted to come to her each evening. Tell her his problems and share his happy moments. Had last night been the beginning of that?
A Very Romantic Christmas Page 9