Her Foreign Affair

by Shea Mcmaster

  “So, is your passport current?”

  Randi listened to the increasing beat of his heart. He meant it. “Passport is current.”

  “Shall I have my secretary make the arrangements?”

  When had she last done something so impulsive? Probably London. With Court. Look where that had gotten her. Birdie. Okay, arguably the best thing she’d ever done in her life, but still. Heaven knew there’d been nothing impulsive about her marriage to Wyatt, other than speed, but he’d been carefully selected. Everything else in her life had been plotted, planned in detail, each angle considered and analyzed. Had she ever just jumped in the car and gone for a drive without at least outlining her path? Just how exciting had her life been since then?

  The jarring ring of the telephone shattered the predawn peace.

  “Damn,” she muttered. “Only one person ever calls this early.” She pushed up on her elbow and reached across Court to grab the handset. A push of the button stopped the ringing. She hoped neither Birdie nor Drew had been awakened by the phone.

  With no effort to disguise her sleepy voice she answered, “Good morning, Dad.”

  Court’s hand settled on her back, and she rested her cheek on his far shoulder as she lay draped across his body. The hair on his chest teased her nipples, and she rubbed against it. Such a nice bed he made.

  “So? I’m in suspense here. Could hardly sleep last night.”

  “Nosy.” There was little point scolding him further. Six AM was as late as he’d been willing to wait to call. She should have expected it. “It went as well as it could, I suppose. We told the kids, and they went out to the hot tub to plan evil ways to make us pay. I was asleep by the time they came in, so I don’t know what they decided.”

  “And what about the smooth talking Brit? Did you talk to him at all after?”

  Oh gee. How to explain that one when it wasn’t any of his business? “We’ve spoken.” There, close enough.

  “What’s going on there?”

  “Dad, it’s early. I didn’t sleep well last night, and I have guests to tend to.” Court’s hand smoothing over her butt told her how he wanted to be tended to. “I don’t know what’s happening in the next few hours, but I suppose I should tell you now….” A long male finger slipped down between her legs, distracting her just as it was intended to. Well, okay, so she knew what was going to happen in the very near future, but Dad didn’t need to know.

  “Tell me what? Why are you groaning?”

  “I’m still tired. Fell asleep in the tub last night, and my neck is telling me about it. Anyhow, I want to let you know I’ve just decided to take next week off.” The large hand caressing her cupped and squeezed one cheek of her bottom.

  “Take the week off? Why? You’re taking two weeks at Christmas already. And today.”

  “Today is a company holiday, even if you don’t choose to recognize it for yourself. Besides, I’m caught up, and we’re in the slow season anyway. I’ll keep the laptop with me for emergencies, but I want to get some Christmas shopping done.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know yet for sure, but I’ll have my cell, so you or Birdie can reach me. I just won’t be home.”

  “Where are you going?” he asked again.

  “I’ll let you know when I find out. Love you.” She hung up the phone and tossed the handset to the bedside table.

  “So, I guess that’s a yes to my question?” Court’s fingers dipped deeper, easing between her folds of flesh, testing her moisture, spreading it around a little…

  “Yes, yes, make the reservations. I’m yours for the next week.” She twisted until she straddled his hips. Pressing up on her arms, she gazed down at him, into eyes heavily lidded with rising passion. “Although I’m still mad at you. I expect a nice hotel and show tickets for at least one night, maybe two.”

  “And a car with a driver at your disposal to cart around all your purchases,” he promised, typically ignoring her declaration of ire. Granted, she wasn’t sure she believed it herself anymore.

  The foot massage he’d given her in the middle of the night had gone a long way toward restoring her good humor. Not to mention there’d been other massages in the night and long, slow, sweet kisses. His hands lightly gripped her hips, then slid down her legs from thigh to calf to the feet pressed against his legs. It seemed neither one could get enough of touching the other.

  “Wow, first class all the way?”

  “Always. You’re a first class lady and deserve nothing less.”

  “I expect you to show me your best, Mr. Robinson. Take care of next week, then we’ll talk about how to spend the next two days.”

  “My best? Darling, I’ve hardly begun, but I do believe you’ve already had a sample of some of my best moves.” The thumbs rubbing her feet reminded her as her toes curled in appreciation.

  “Oh, I’m sure you have more.” She leaned down, extended her tongue, and touched it to the tip of his nose.

  “Is that tongue a promise or a threat?”

  “Which would you prefer?”

  “Oh, a promise, by all means.”

  Randi pushed up until she knelt over him. Court’s hands slid to her lower abdomen. Too late she remembered and felt his hands travel along her scar, his eyes taking in the detail revealed by the dim morning light.

  “Is this what you didn’t want me to see?” he asked quietly.

  “Um, yeah, well, scars like this aren’t sexy.” The mood lost, she tried to move off Court, but he held her down by her thighs.

  “What is it from? The hysterectomy you mentioned yesterday?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why are you ashamed of the scarring?”

  “It’s ugly. I’m thinking about consulting with the cosmetic surgeon a friend of mine used this past summer. She’d lost a lot of weight, and he did an excellent job of tightening her up before she moved to Seattle.”

  Court shifted, then flipped her onto her back with himself between her legs. His glare confused her until he slowly kissed each inch of the scar that ran from below her belly button down to the edge of her pubic hair. “This isn’t ugly. What’s ugly is the fact you were ill after giving birth to our daughter. What happened?”

  Court pressed his lips to her scar again, the gesture so tender she felt the hot prickle of tears at the back of her eyes.

  “I started hemorrhaging, not long after the birth, which was vaginal and not a C-section. The doctor told Wyatt it was either do surgery or watch me bleed to death.”

  “They made the right choice. Battle scars are honorable marks. This is your battle scar.” Kissing her, he continued to slowly travel the length of the incision mark.

  “Doc said it was one of the fastest hysterectomies he’s ever done.”

  “Was recovery tough?”

  “Yes. I couldn’t breast feed like I wanted to. By the time I came around—there was a bit of a problem with infection which caused the fever—my milk had dried up and she was used to the bottle. It took me all spring and most of the summer to recover. Wyatt had to hire a nurse to take care of both Birdie and me while he was at work, and then he took care of us when he got home.”

  “Sounds like you had a very rough time.”

  He didn’t know the half of it, but she wasn’t about to confess her depression. Or the prolonged bouts of crying alternated with bouts of staring into space praying for death. How Wyatt had managed to stick through those six months remained a mystery, but once she’d returned to school, Randi had slowly found herself coming back. Not as carefree a version of herself as she’d been, but one more mature. Able to take on the care of Birdie and resume her part of the household chores. Gratitude for Wyatt had turned into tender feeling and, eventually, love. He’d offered the plastic surgery at the time, but had also declared it would be for her peace of mind and not his. He didn’t mind the scar one bit. Said it reminded him how precious she and Birdie were to him.


  “We made it through, that’s what counts,” she said softly.

  “Thank God for that.” Court resumed kissing her abdomen. “I want to hear more, much more, but if I’m going to catch my secretary before she sneaks out early for the weekend, I need to call. Much as I hate to leave this very comfortable and most attractive spot.”

  Randi chuckled softly and wove her fingers into his beautiful thick hair. “I understand. I’ve sort of lost the feeling myself for the moment.”

  “I haven’t lost the feeling.” Court kissed her again. “But time is applying its own version of pressure. Once I get this little bit of business taken care of, I can then once more devote all my energy and attention to you and Birdie.”

  “Then go. I need to check my e-mail and send out my vacation notice as well. I’ll start breakfast, and we can talk with the kids about the next couple days. Any idea what you want to do or see?”

  “Wine country. I’ve tasted a few Napa Valley wines, and I want to learn more.” He gave her stomach one last kiss, then crawled up her body, kissing a trail along the way, taking time to nuzzle and worship her breasts. “I’m so…very…glad…you lived.” He ended at her lips and kissed what breath remained right out of her.

  When at last he let her up for air, feeling the words in a way she never had before, she could only whisper, “Me too, Court. Me too.”

  Chapter 13

  “Where do you want all this wine?” Drew asked. The first of the three cases Randi had purchased that day preceded him into the kitchen. The more than a dozen cases Court had purchased were being shipped to New York where his office would then forward the entire lot on to England.

  “Keep an extensive wine cellar, do you?” Randi had asked casually.

  “A modest one.”

  “Compared to whom? The Ritz?”

  Court had merely smiled.

  “For now, just put them on the island.” Randi cleared the way of paperwork just in time for Drew to slide the box onto the granite.

  Court came next with the case he carried, barely dodging his son on his way back out for the last case while Birdie set down a bag of miscellaneous knickknacks and tasty morsels they’d also purchased.

  “Right there.” Randi pointed next to the other one.

  “Where are you going to store this since the cooler is full?” He nodded to the under-counter appliance he’d filled with wine the day before.

  “There’s room in the one by the bar. The whites and sparkling wines can go in there. The reds can go in the racks.” She waved toward the small bar on the other side of the half wall that defined the far edge of the dining area. Facing the cozy reading nook was a fireplace with a tiny bar area flanking it. “There’s a little space in here as well.” She pointed to a rack on the counter under the cabinet with the wine glasses.

  “Your tea sets don’t leave much room.” The teasing smile Court gave her felt good. Every time she looked at him she felt good. Like he was dissolving the ice barrier around her heart that had entered her life upon leaving London. “How about a cuppa or two?’

  “Excellent idea.” Randi turned and perused the selection of tea sets around the kitchen. The ones in here she actually used. The others around the house were strictly for show. For the four of them, hmm, the extra large cobalt blue pot would work best. “Get that one down for me, please?”

  “Ah, the spiffing one.” It was easily within his grasp. “For when you want quantity as well as quality.”

  Randi rolled her eyes. “And the lime green sugar and creamer nearby.”

  “Colorful no less.”

  “They’re cheery together.” With the storm clouds hovering on Birdie’s face as they had most of the day while she tried to find her place in her altered world, cheery was just the ticket. “Birdie, would you get out four mugs? Anyone want a turkey sandwich?”

  Drew returned and nodded. “A bit of tea will hit the spot just right.”

  “Do I have time to check my e-mail?” Court asked. “I want to see if Martha got back to me.”

  Randi nodded. Martha, the secretary. A whiz with travel arrangements if Court’s praise was to be believed. With a light pat on her butt that made Randi want to squirm, Court left the kitchen.

  “What can I do to help?” Drew asked.

  “Fill the kettle and warm the pot,” Randi answered and pushed the huge teapot across the island to the side near the stove. “Darjeeling okay?”

  “Fine by me.”

  “Birdie? Would you get it out?”

  While the kettle came to a boil, she filled the infuser with loose leaf tea. Drew poured the boiling water over it, and Birdie set the timer for five minutes.

  “A timer?” Drew raised a brow.

  “I don’t like it over-brewed,” Randi replied firmly, and he let it go with a twitch of his lips.

  By the time Randi had sandwiches assembled, a plate of cookies arranged, and most of a pumpkin pie cut, the kids had the perfectly brewed tea and dishes on the table. Court returned in time to hold out her seat for her.

  “Ah, tea time. Nothing like it in the world.”

  “Well this is supper, not a fancy party tea. I can make more sandwiches if these won’t hold you.”

  Drew winked from across the table while Birdie poured from the super pot. “If it doesn’t hold us, I’ll buy the pizza later.” He eyed the six inch high stack of sandwiches as if he were considering not sharing. She’d forgotten just how much a young man could eat. Good thing Drew didn’t live here full time. Of Birdie’s friends from high school, the boys had been the hardest to satisfy. The food bill had plummeted the moment Birdie went off to college.

  Court merely rolled his eyes and turned to Randi. “Martha came through. The arrangements are all made.”

  “Arrangements?” Birdie looked up as she set down the teapot. “What arrangements?”

  The smile Court put on his face seemed to come to him easy enough, Randi decided. More practiced schmoozing? It seemed to work on Birdie, at least when she was focused on him. When it came to Randi, Birdie had developed an all-too-new cold shoulder. “I’m taking your mother to New York with me on Sunday. I’m just sad your school schedule is so demanding at the moment; I’d have liked to take you along as well and spend a week spoiling my girls with some Big Apple Christmas shopping.”

  Drew choked on his tea and had to reach for a napkin. “Wow, I never heard you offer to go shopping before.” His wide grin showcased perfectly straight white teeth.

  “I’d stay here and take everyone into San Francisco if I could, but Attenborough won’t come this far west. He’s agreed to New York, though. Otherwise, my next plan was to steal Randi off to London.”

  His hand on her leg was intimate and not missed by either of their kids. Drew’s eyes sparkled, but Birdie’s darkened and dulled.

  Randi reached for the pot and hefted it to fill Court’s cup. The extra, small grip on the front of the pot made it easier to lift and pour. The ritual of playing Mother allowed her to focus on anything but Birdie’s displeasure, which added significantly to Randi’s guilt. All day she’d tried to ignore the growing feeling inside.

  The morning tastings and a stop for lunch had been pleasant and a lesson in how Court did business as he bought several cases at each stop. In fact, Randi nearly found herself turning green with envy over the unseen wine cellars in both his London flat and the country estate he bought the wines for. Almost. In fact, she’d been too busy watching Birdie getting to know Drew to think too much about Court’s apparently endless funds.

  Over lunch, Drew had told the story of how he’d waited to get Birdie’s attention.

  With a sheepish grin, he’d confessed. “I tripped her.”

  Randi had stared at first Drew, then Birdie. “How did it happen?”

  “Well.” Suddenly, a touch uncomfortable, which had been fascinating to see, Drew had played with his spoon while his ears turned red. “I’d noticed this little blonde from tim
e to time over the semester. About a week ago, I was in the café and had the perfect opportunity to meet her. So as she came toward my table, I stuck out my leg and she tripped over it. I didn’t expect her to really fall on her face.”

  “You tripped me on purpose?” Birdie’s brows had practically flown into her hair line.

  “Well, yeah.” Drew grinned. “I couldn’t think of another way to get your attention so fast. I wasn’t expecting you to saunter right on by me.”

  “I almost broke my arm, you idiot,” Birdie said with a roll of her eyes. “And with my thesis due, where would I have been then?”

  “I probably would have ended up typing it for you.”

  “Sounds a little too familiar to me,” Court had muttered.

  After lunch, Birdie had made a point of walking and talking with Court, and Randi had watched true affection grow on his part. What Birdie felt was still Birdie’s secret, which, frankly, disconcerted Randi the most about this whole business.

  Not that Court seemed to plan on denying his daughter. In fact, he seemed quite enamored with the change in his life and had focused on Birdie without ignoring Randi or Drew. Wyatt had never dreamed of denying Birdie, and she had reveled in his affection. In fact, due to the influence of her grandfather and Wyatt, Birdie related well to older men and seemed to respond to the father figure in Court. However, something remained under the surface, which Randi didn’t recognize. A hint of suspicion? Wariness? An unnatural edge of aggressiveness that made Randi question Birdie’s motive.

  There’d never been any friction between mother and daughter over Wyatt’s attention. Court was a new game, and the rules were changing faster than Randi liked. Birdie probably didn’t recognize her feelings of rivalry, but to Randi, they became clearer with each passing hour. Even though it was hard to tell how much Birdie liked Court, she seemed to not like his attention to Randi at all and angled to be the focus of the limelight. Not that Randi intentionally gave her much competition. Birdie redirected a large portion of Court’s intense focus away from Randi, allowing her a chance to process everything as it happened. He and Drew had slipped right into the fabric of their lives, and it felt eerily natural. So natural that Randi was trying to figure out if she felt threatened or not. Birdie’s uncharacteristic reaction didn’t help. The talk of a trip to New York didn’t seem to soothe unsettled feelings at all.