by Laura Moore
They were in front of the studio door. His hands grasped her shoulders, steadying her, and Gen was keenly aware of how close his leanly muscled body was to hers. His breath was a warm tantalizing breeze on her face. “Thanks for including me in the festivities today. You’re lucky to have such a remarkable family.”
Gen stared up at him, knowing as she did that despite the evening shadows, her secret yearning was plainly visible, etched on her face. Yet she was helpless to look away, or to break the connection between them.
With a crooked smile that tugged at her heart, he reached up and traced the curve of her cheek. Without another word, he turned and headed toward the house. She stared after him until he’d vanished into the shadows.
An hour passed while Sydney, holed up in the guest room to which Mrs. Miller always insisted on relegating her, rejected one outfit after the other. She absolutely refused to go downstairs until she looked in the mirror and beheld a woman who could bring men to their knees. She kept remembering how Alex had looked in the limo, happy and tired, with dirt streaks covering the front of his tailored shirt. He’d obviously been more than willing to grovel in the dirt for Gen.
Sydney couldn’t understand it. There was no real contest—she was ten times more beautiful than Gen Monaghan. So why was he going to parties with Gen and meeting her entire family? He’d never been willing to attend one of her mother’s parties. In the midst of slipping into an ivory dress that hugged her curves like a lover, Sydney paused, frowning. In fact, the only man who didn’t seem fazed by her mother was Harry.
Harry had been wonderful during the latest lunch they’d endured with Hilary Raines. Throughout the course of the meal, he’d deflected her mother’s avid questions about Alex Miller’s TLM Fund with a smooth aplomb, adroitly saving Sydney from having to reply to her relentless harping.
All of a sudden, Sydney’s thoughts veered to another memory of Harry. She heard his voice. It was devoid of its usual teasing notes. “Maybe if you were with a guy who loved you, you wouldn’t be obsessing about what you have to do to keep him. Don’t you think it’s time you found a guy you want instead of trying to please your mother?”
She shook her head, as if she might be able to dislodge the memory. Since when had Harry become her conscience? she wondered, annoyed.
Smoothing the dress over her hips, she focused on her reflection, appraising it critically. The dress was perfect, but the rest of her? While she’d been thinking of Harry, her teeth had caught her lower lip, gnawing it painfully. Her forehead was wrinkled with unhappy lines.
With a determined effort, Sydney smoothed her expression and pasted a cool, confident smile on her face. There, much better. All she needed was a little lipstick, some blush and mascara, and she’d be ready to bring Alex to his knees.
Upstairs in his bedroom, Alex, freshly showered, pulled on a pair of jeans and a dark blue button-down shirt. He left the shirt open, enjoying the ocean breeze coming in through the bay windows. The glass of whiskey he’d brought upstairs was sitting on the small end table next to an overstuffed chair near the windows. He dropped into the chair, grabbed the whiskey, and took a long, slow sip. The whiskey’s rich, smoky, complex flavor reminded him of Gen. But hell, almost everything made him think of Gen, or of the countless ways he’d like to make love to her. She’d be like the whiskey: worth lingering over and savoring.
His aunt Grace was with her now, having volunteered to bring Murphy back to the studio. He knew Grace would be gone awhile, happily pumping Gen about the wing and her ideas for the painting.
He’d only barely resisted the temptation to join them. In the end resisting just because he wanted to be near Gen so damn much. Each time he was around her he had to restrain himself from taking her in his arms. He’d already succumbed once today, when he’d insisted on carrying her from the car to the studio— a flimsy excuse to press her body close to his and breathe in her light, flowery scent. The thrill he’d gotten holding her told him that the next time he touched her, he wouldn’t be able to stop or content himself with stroking the velvety smoothness of her cheek.
His hunger for her shook him. Alex wasn’t accustomed to needing so much that it filled every fiber of his being.
But with Gen, everything was different. Why, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was because she was so many things to him already, perhaps it was because he liked her, liked her sprawling, affectionate family. Hell, he even liked her hairy monster of a dog. Ultimately, all that mattered was the relentless desire that clawed him whenever she was near.
And that was why he was still fighting it. He was beginning to suspect that if he yielded to this all-consuming need and made love to Gen, it still might not be enough. Because from Gen he would want more than just sex, he’d want—
Alex’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floor outside his room. The knock on the door had him turning away from the mesmerizing view of the ocean waves outside his windows. “Come in.”
Sydney looked like dynamite. The high-heeled sandals made her legs appear endless, and her ivory dress left little to the imagination. It occurred to Alex that life would be so much easier if he could transfer even one iota of the desire he felt for Gen to Sydney.
“You look beautiful, Sydney,” he said honestly albeit disinterestedly. He couldn’t help it that these days his tastes ran to bluish-green-eyed freckled nymphs in paint-spattered clothes and high-tops.
Sydney’s smile warmed at the compliment. “I was hoping you might have changed your mind about going to the party with me.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but no, I haven’t changed my mind. About anything.”
“Maybe this will persuade you otherwise,” she murmured, her hips swinging seductively beneath her dress as she walked toward him, stopping within arm’s reach from where he sat. Slowly she lifted the hem of her dress. Cut so it ended at midthigh, the dress didn’t have far to travel up the length of her bare legs and over the flare of her hips before it was gathered at her waist.
Alex stared at the nearly transparent scrap of lace covering her mound. Raising his gaze, he met Sydney’s eyes. They gleamed glittery bright with anticipation and arousal. Maybe she was so close to climaxing that she couldn’t see the truth: she left him cold. Sydney was beautiful and erotically sexy. Yes, he’d grant her that and more but whatever they’d once enjoyed together was gone.
The fabric rustled softly as her hands shifted. Alex didn’t even bother to look; from the slight shift of her body he knew she was shimmying out of that scrap of nothing then dropping the hem, so the dress resettled over her naked body.
“I’ll be waiting for you, Alex.” And she tossed the scrap of lace toward his lap like a parting gift. He didn’t lift a finger to catch it. Light as air, it floated, landing silently on the floor near his chair. She pivoted on her heels and cast a sultry glance over her shoulder. “But don’t make me wait too long for what we both want.” Her smile was provocative. “My patience is wearing thin.”
“Good-bye, Sydney.”
He waited until she’d gone to drop his head against the back of the chair with a loud groan. Christ, this mess just kept getting stickier. Sydney still wanted him. He wanted Gen, but couldn’t do a damn thing about pursuing her with Sydney playing her games, tossing panties as she paraded about as his lover.
Worldly-wise, Alex knew women’s bodies. When he’d carried Gen in his arms, he’d felt that delicious, telltale softening in her body. If he’d chosen to, he could have lowered his lips to hers and tasted her. He could have learned her curves, the silky-soft texture of her body—she could have been his. But Gen wasn’t the type of person to have an affair with him if Sydney was in the picture.
He rubbed his face with his hands. God, he hoped Sydney would finally get the message when he didn’t come running to her pantyless side tonight.
The ring of his cell phone had him looking up and glancing around the bedroom in an effort to locate it. It was on the bureau. “Miller,” he said
, pressing the talk button.
“Hiya, Uncle Alex.”
Alex grinned at the sound of his six-year-old niece’s voice. “Soph! How’s my blue-eyed daredevil?” he asked. He sat on the bed and lifted his legs up, crossing his bare ankles. All thoughts of Sydney and the trouble she was causing in his life vanished as Sophie launched into an enthusiastic description of the day’s activities.
“And guess what, Uncle Alex? Me and Jamie jumped crossbars—what?” Alex grinned as he heard the faint voice of his sister, Cassie, then Sophie was speaking again. “Jamie and I,” she corrected, “jumped crossbars today. Pip was super and Topper—you won’t believe what he did—a funny crow hop right after the jump. But Jamie stayed on him. Mommy says she’s gonna—going—to cut back on Topper’s grain, ’cause he’s feelin’ a little full of himself.”
“Is that so?” Alex said, biting back a chuckle as he pictured the rotund and extremely placid twenty-four-year-old pony.
“So whatcha been doing, Uncle Alex? Did you go swimming?”
“No. I’m afraid I didn’t get the chance. I had to go to Boston.”
“Oh,” she said with ill-concealed disappointment. Clearly Boston didn’t rank as high as swimming on Sophie’s list.
“But I got to go to a birthday party where there were tons of people. We played a game of softball and our team won.”
This was definitely up Sophie’s alley. “Really?” she said. “Whose birthday?”
“Well, it was the older sister of Gen. Gen’s the lady who’s staying at Great-Aunt Grace’s while Tilly’s away.”
“Will we get to meet her?”
“Yes, she’s living in Great-Uncle Alex’s old studio. Gen’s a painter. She makes beautiful paintings, Soph.”
“Is she old like Great-Aunt Grace?”
Alex laughed. “No, she’s about your mommy’s age.”
“Oh.” Sophie paused. “What does she look like?”
Alex leaned back against the headboard. He closed his eyes, conjuring her, and there was a smile in his voice when he said, “Well, she’s really pretty. With freckles and straight shiny hair. She has these neat eyes, Soph, that are blue and green and brown, all mixed up. When she smiles, it goes straight to her eyes. Oh, and she’s got a dog named Murphy who’s as big as you and Jamie,” he finished.
“Wow! Do you think she’ll let me play with him?”
“We can ask.”
“Mommy, Mommy,” Alex heard Sophie call out. She had yet to master the trick of putting a hand over the mouthpiece. “Uncle Alex got to play softball at a party and he has a friend named Gen and she’s pretty and she has a dog! Can we bring Radar and Belle so that they can play with her dog? Please?”
“I think it’s my turn to speak with Uncle Alex, pumpkin,” he heard Cassie say.
“ ’Bye, Uncle Alex. Remember to ask if we can play with her dog!”
“I will. ’Bye, Soph. I love you. See you next week.”
“Alex?” Cassie’s voice came on the line.
“Hey, sis.”
“So, tell me about this pretty friend who has a dog.”
Alex cleared his throat. “That’s Gen. The artist who’s going to paint the work for the hospital wing,” he explained. “Her dog’s a wolfhound. A beaut.”
“My, my. And how pretty is Gen?”
“Very.”
“And how does she feel about you, Alex?”
“I’m almost positive she thinks I’m pretty too,” he teased.
“Alex,” his sister said warningly.
“Okay, okay. How does she feel about me? Well, we kind of got off to a rocky start.” A smile curved his lips as he recalled some of her barbs. He liked that she wasn’t afraid to stand up to him or speak her mind.
“You mean she didn’t fall head over heels the instant she saw you? A woman with brains.”
“Very funny, Cass. Very funny.”
“And how’s Sydney these days?” Though his sister’s tone was carefully neutral, Alex knew that she hadn’t been especially taken with Sydney—or with any of his previous girlfriends.
“Sydney’s around, but on a very limited basis. She still has to organize the party and the dedication ceremony.”
There was a silence. Alex pictured his sister working through the implications of what he’d said. “Well, I can’t wait to see how you’re handling all this, Alex. You’ve definitely piqued my curiosity about this Gen.”
“I think you’ll like her, Cass. Her artwork is amazing.”
“I bet Aunt Grace is thrilled to have her stay while Tilly’s gone. How is Aunt Grace?”
“Great. We’re going driving in about twenty minutes.”
“In the Aston?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “I know she’d like me to let her take it out alone. But this way I can keep an eye on the speedometer. So, I’ll pick the four of you up at the airport?”
“All four of us,” Cassie repeated. “Though believe me, I’ll have my work cut out dissuading Sophie from bringing Radar and Belle as canine playmates for that wolfhound.”
Alex laughed. “And your efforts will be greatly appreciated, sis.”
Sydney had positioned herself strategically, standing toward the back of the lavishly decorated living room so that she had an optimal view of every guest who passed through Dick and Miriam Howard’s doorway. The house was now overflowing with people, but that hadn’t stopped her from scanning each face, her stomach tightening in a painful knot whenever the face belonged to someone other than Alex. Already she’d popped a Rolaids from her beaded clutch and downed two champagnes, while around her people talked and laughed, some calling out a greeting to her. Her smiles and replies came automatically.
He had to come.
Why hadn’t he come?
The plaintive demand rang inside Sydney’s head, horribly and hauntingly familiar—a refrain whispered under her breath by her nine-year-old self as she’d stared out the window, waiting for her father to come for Christmas. She’d worked so hard to suppress the yearning little girl inside her—at that moment she almost hated Alex for causing her to resurface.
She’d been concentrating so hard on the faces of the people entering the Howard’s home, willing them to morph into Alex’s features, that the vivid green eyes staring back at her didn’t register immediately. With a surprised start she cried, “Harry!” as he reached her. “I didn’t know you were planning to come tonight.”
“Jeff and Nina invited me. I’d have told you I was coming but you clearly had plans of your own.” He paused and his gaze swept around the room. “Is Alex with you?”
At Alex’s name, her lips trembled. She shook her head, afraid if she spoke her voice would come out wobbly.
The hard glint in Harry’s eyes softened. He cocked his head. “Poor baby,” he murmured. The compassion in his voice was her undoing. The trembling descended to her shoulders then to the rest of her body.
“Ah, Syd, come here,” he said, opening his arms. She stepped into them. His breath was warm against the shell of her ear as he made soothing noises. His hand, splayed across her back, moved in slow, hypnotic circles. “It’s all right,” he said quietly. “I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.”
Had she forgotten how it felt to be comforted? she wondered as Harry’s warm strength seeped into her. She leaned into him gratefully, wishing she could burrow inside him. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes.
“There now. Feeling better?” he asked. His arms loosened their hold on her fractionally.
She made a mew of protest and stepped closer. “Hold me, Harry,” she whispered.
He looked at her, his handsome face solemn and strangely intense. “Sydney, don’t you know that I’d do anything for you?” And his arms tightened again, drawing her flush against his rangy body.
The tender, unexpected words caused a swell of happiness, and a warm glow filled her. What would she do without Harry? she thought, ducking her head so her cheek was pressed to his chest. Beneath her ear she h
eard the steady thud of his heart. They stood entwined like this for a few moments, as if they were alone in the crowded room, while Sydney grew increasingly aware of how good it felt to be in Harry’s arms. Of their own volition, her hands began wandering idly over his back, exploring the taut muscles beneath the fine cotton shirt. Traveling upward, her fingers toyed with his dark, curly hair and her thumbs brushed the lobes of his ear.
She was so close to him that she could feel the change in the rhythm of his breathing, feel his muscles tighten . . . feel his erection press against her belly.
Her heart hammered in recognition.
Slowly she tilted her head. His green eyes burned with a heat that seared all the way to her toes. “You want me,” she whispered, awed by the revelation.
Harry smiled crookedly. “Eternally. But I’ll live.” He gave a small shrug. “I’ve become used to this condition.”
He took a step back to put distance between them. But Sydney’s arms were still looped about his neck. She moved with him, molding her body to his.
His breath came out a hiss. “Careful there, Sydney,” he warned. “You’re awfully close to the fire.”
Indeed, the sudden heat coming in waves off his body scorched her, set her own blood afire. She tried to swallow but couldn’t. Her mouth had gone dry. “I need you to make me forget him, Harry,” she whispered. “I want you to make the hurt go away. Please, Harry.”
His gaze bored into hers. “I won’t be a plaything for you, Sydney. Once I have you, I’m not letting you go.”
Sydney felt a moment’s hesitation. He looked so serious. But what if something went wrong? Harry was her partner. Together, with their complementary strengths, they made a terrific team, an unbeatable pair. If she lost him, she’d be losing so much: her business partner, her confidant, her friend. The enormity of what was at stake shook her.
“Scared, Syd?” Harry asked. He knew her so very well. He held her gaze, waiting for her answer.
She tried to swallow again. “Yes,” she managed. “I’m terrified.”
“Too scared to take a chance?” he asked quietly.
“Maybe—”