Until she forgot her protest.
When at last he lifted his lips from hers, she inhaled in a gasp, her glazed eyes on his, her lips still parted and moist. He wished that they weren’t in Charleston. He would have given his right arm to be alone with her, and he called himself every kind of fool in the world for wanting her so desperately.
“I’ve met Mary before,” he said out of nowhere.
“Oh?”
“And I’ve met Mrs. Merriweather before, too. I didn’t just walk off the street and into her house.”
“Oh?”
“I thought about buying the place before. I saw a write-up about it in a magazine. Mrs. Merriweather didn’t really want to sell, but she has no heirs. I came to see her, to promise her that if she sold to me, she would have the right to live on the property for the rest of her life. She’s still thinking about it.”
“So why did you tell her I was your wife?”
He shrugged. “I panicked, I guess.”
“Um, I’ll bet you did,” Lucia murmured.
“I made dinner reservations. Will you have dinner with me?”
“Is that what you were doing on the phone?”
“What?”
“The phone call. Is that what you were doing on the phone?”
“Oh. Of course.”
“I, er…”
“It’s not quite five. The reservations aren’t until eight. Maybe we should rent a room, rest, shower and change.”
“Rest?” Lucia asked suspiciously.
He nodded gravely.
She was in for trouble, Lucia thought. But wasn’t that what she wanted?
* * *
Half an hour later they were in a lovely room overlooking the park, and Lucia couldn’t pull herself away from the window. She stared out over the cannons and statues, over the oaks covered with Spanish moss and out to sea.
Ryan was in the bathroom shaving, with the door open.
“It’s really a gorgeous city,” she called to him.
“Yes, it is.”
“But very Southern. Even a Yankee can see that.”
He popped his head out the door. “What are you, Ms. Lorenzo? The Italian Scarlet O’Hara?”
He grinned, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “I grew up down here, remember?”
He came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips and a dab of shaving cream still on his chin. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. “We all grow up a little bit everywhere we go. Didn’t you know that?”
“I suppose so.”
“Are you going to take a shower?”
She leaned her head against him, trying to look up. “Want me to?”
“I’ll ravish you with or without,” he promised solemnly.
“I’m supposed to be resting, remember?”
“Vaguely.”
She spun from his arms and headed for the shower. When she stepped under the water, she trembled slightly and wished that she weren’t quite so eager for his touch. The warmth that had flashed through her when he had introduced her as his wife had been painful. She had so badly wanted it to be true.
She wanted this to last forever. Exploring old houses, walking together, feeling the sea breeze…wanting him.
She turned off the water and threw open the curtain. Ryan was there, grinning, his towel still around his waist.
“Did I ever tell you that you look great in water droplets?”
“You wear a towel very well yourself.”
“Almost as well as I wear a sheet,” he replied modestly. Then he reached for her, sweeping her off her feet and into his arms. Before she knew it she was lying on the soft bed, and his kisses were searing her naked flesh.
“Did I ever tell you,” he whispered against the valley of her breasts, “that you taste just great in water droplets, too?”
“Never!” She laughed, but her laughter quickly faded as his hands moved over her, stroking her flesh. The searing moisture of his tongue followed the various intimate invasions of his touch with no hesitation and no mercy, and in a matter of moments she was on fire, wanting him. There was no laughter in his eyes when he rose over her, only the stark hunger of passion. It remained with him as he lowered himself slowly, penetrating her, filling her with the very life and soul of him.
Crying his name, she arched against him in a frenzy, and heat exploded all around her. She wound her arms around him, seeking all of him, feeling their flesh brush together, sleek and damp. She felt the strength of his arms and the hunger of his purpose, and always the strong thrust of his body, harder and harder, as if he would join them together for all time. The sweet sizzling excitement inside her rose ever higher, and still he urged her on. He whispered things she barely understood, yet knew innately. Then, when she could bear it no longer, he strained against her, his head thrown back, and a deep guttural cry escaped him. She barely heard herself echo his passion. She was aware of nothing but the ecstasy that held her, trembling, in its grasp.
After a little while she closed her eyes and slept. When she opened them again, he was watching her.
“I love you,” he said quietly.
“What?” she whispered.
“I love you,” he repeated. “I think I loved you from the moment I first saw you.” He leaned over and kissed her mouth lightly, then pressed his lips to her throat. Finally he moved with leisurely abandon to the peak of her breast, and a sharp shudder of pleasure ran through her.
She plowed her fingers into his hair and drew his mouth to hers again. Then she moved away, just a fraction of an inch. “I…I love you, too.”
He wrapped his arms around her and rolled her to her side. His hands skimmed down her back and then her buttocks, and he held her intimately, but tenderly and very tightly. His fingers continued to move.
“I love you…” she whispered again, amazed that she had dared to say the words out loud.
But then she remembered—quite vividly—the kiss he had received from the pretty red-haired nurse, and how intimately the two of them had been talking at the house. She stiffened in his arms.
“Oh, no!” he groaned against her flesh. He looked up to meet her eyes. “What?”
“The redhead,” she said sweetly.
“What about her?”
“Well, you didn’t just meet her. You admitted it. So just how well do you know her?”
“Well enough that she’s promised to console me if you walk out on me again,” Ryan said dryly.
“Did she console you the last time?”
He was silent, watching her. She wondered what he was thinking. One thing about Ryan was that as long as she had known him, he had never lied to her. But he took so long to reply that she felt a fierce shivering seize hold of her. “Ryan?”
“No,” he said at last, flatly.
“Ryan—”
“Lucia, I never went out with her. She’s a friend.” He smiled ruefully. “Didn’t you hear me? Or don’t you understand? I love you. And I think you said—”
“I said that I love you, too,” she whispered softly, gazing into his eyes.
“Then let’s keep it at that for tonight. For once, Lucia, let’s hold tight to the magic and keep it with us.”
“Is it enough?” she whispered, afraid.
“It’s incredible,” he replied. “Hold me. Hold me again. Love me. Let’s drown in it, and hold tight to the beauty of the moment.”
She didn’t need much convincing. She loved the taste of his mouth, and she felt as if she could kiss him forever. She loved the breadth of his shoulders and the broad expanse of his back and the tight muscles of his buttocks. She could hold him and touch him and explore his flesh forever.
And she could die a thousand times over when he touched her. When he kissed her, when he seared her flesh with his tongue, and when their limbs entangled and they met as one, breathless, wound together as if for eternity, straining to reach the stars. When it was over, she felt lethargic, but not too lethargic to
revel in the sight of him.
“I love your toes,” she told him after a while.
“I love yours.”
“I’ll bet you don’t even know what they look like,” she accused him.
“Well, I will admit that there are other parts of your anatomy that I can describe in greater detail. But your toes are charming. They’re small, and you’re wearing red nail polish.”
“You’re looking right at them.”
“Aha. But you’re looking right at mine, too.”
She laughed, and somehow they wound up in one another’s arms again. Then she swore that she was starving, so he released her, and they both showered quickly, packed up their things and headed for the restaurant.
The food was delicious, and the night was beautiful. Because of the way the room was arranged, it felt as if they were all alone, with a fine white wine and oysters on the half shell and wonderful fresh baked snapper. They might have been on their first date. She slipped off her shoe and ran her toes over his ankle, and he held her hand across the table.
There was a band playing, and they swayed slowly in one another’s arms on the dance floor, not even bothering to speak.
Finally, at eleven, Lucia sighed softly. “We should drive back.”
“We could just stay here,” he said.
She shook her head. “I can’t do that, and you know it.”
“Your aunts and uncles are all in bed. They would never miss you.”
“They might. And if they did, they would worry themselves sick. I just can’t, Ryan. I thought you understood.”
“I do,” he said regretfully. “Okay, we’ll go.”
In the car, she leaned her head against his shoulder. Her window was down, and the night wind was cool and soft. It caressed her, just as the material of his jacket caressed her cheek, and the masculine scent of his after-shave stroked her senses. She wanted the drive to go on forever.
“Move back in with me?” he murmured softly.
She swallowed, trying not to stiffen against him. Earlier he had said that he loved her. Didn’t that count for something?
Maybe not for enough. She was playing for all or nothing. She wanted him for all her life this time. She couldn’t take another separation.
“I don’t know.”
“I do love you, Lucia.”
“It just may not be…enough,” she finished lamely.
He was silent, and she smiled painfully to herself. She knew him so well. She couldn’t see his face, but she could imagine the flesh tightening over his cheeks as he clenched his jaw.
“Do you want me to come to Atlanta?” he finally asked.
“It isn’t that….”
“Then what?”
“I—I need some time, Ryan.”
He made a snorting sound. “How much time do you think we’ve got, Lucia? This vacation isn’t going to go on forever.”
“We have a week left.”
“All right. A week. And when it ends, I want your answer. And if you leave me again, Lucia, so help me God, I hope you leave the country, because I don’t want to go through this again. Ever!”
She leaned away from him, staring into the night, stunned by the depth of the hostility in his voice.
“Ryan—”
“No, Lucia, you wanted this week, so we won’t say anything else until it’s over. Then you make your decision.”
“Ryan?”
“What!”
“I—I do love you.”
Again he was silent. Then a sigh seemed to explode from him, and he reached out, cupping her neck, massaging it, his eyes still on the road. He drew her down until she was nestled on his lap. She looked up at him, and patterns of lights played over her face.
“Ryan?”
“What?”
“I loved you before, you know.”
His eyes met hers for a moment; then he looked at the road. “You had a peculiar way of showing it,” he said.
She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. Maybe, for the moment, what she had was enough.
She closed her eyes and curled against him, and a small smile played across her lips.
Ryan said nothing more, and the white Mercedes moved like a graceful cat through the night. Lucia fell asleep, and she didn’t wake again during the two and a half hours it took to return to the condominium.
Ryan nudged her awake when they arrived. She blinked, smoothed her hair back and sat up. He laughed, watching her disorientation, then kissed her lightly on the lips.
“Want me to carry you up?” he asked her.
“No! I’m awake.”
“Okay. Someone might be around, right?”
She cast him a withering glare. He laughed again, stepped out of the car, slammed his door and came around to open hers. She stumbled, and he held her up and led her toward the elevator.
“Too much wine,” he said.
“I’m merely exhausted,” she said.
“I’m not,” he murmured regretfully, pushing the button for the elevator. She felt the way he was looking at her, met his eyes and flushed.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if you were still living with me?” he whispered. “We could just come home together….”
She pulled away from him, smiling supremely. “No, I’m afraid not. Not with my family here.”
“Isn’t that rather hypocritical?”
“No, it’s respectful!” she said, sweeping by him. She watched him punch the button for the penthouse. “Ryan!”
“Lucia, you’re sleeping there tonight. I’m not. Remember? Dina has had a key all day.”
“I forgot,” Lucia admitted. “I forgot all about everything. About Lopez…”
“Then the day was worthwhile,” Ryan said flatly. The elevator came to a halt, and he led her to the door. It was almost two o’clock, but there were still lights on in the penthouse. Lucia raised her hand to knock, but Ryan caught it and backed her against the door. And then he kissed her. He curved his hand over her breast and caressed it with erotic purpose, watching her eyes.
“Don’t you wish, just a little bit, that we could be together all through the night?”
Lucia couldn’t resist temptation. She yawned. He arched a brow, and she started to laugh softly, but then he moved his fingers in a softly caressing motion, and she leaned against him. “Yes, I do.” She pushed him away. “But we can’t. Good night, Mr. Dandridge.”
“Good night, Ms. Lorenzo.”
He stepped away, his hands folded behind his back. “Go on in.”
She knocked. Dina answered the door in a long cranberry satin robe, but she seemed a little pale, and for once she didn’t step past Lucia to say hello to Ryan.
Lucia said good-night to him again, then walked inside. She could hear his footsteps as he walked toward the elevator.
Dina closed and locked the door behind Lucia.
“What is it?” Lucia demanded.
“Someone went through our rooms today.”
“What?”
“A man with a black briefcase. He was dressed in black, too. He opened our door with a key and he went through our rooms.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Did you—did you do anything?”
She shook her head. “I—I think Ryan sent him.”
“What?”
“Well, he had a key.”
Dina walked toward the kitchen, where what looked like a Bloody Mary was sitting on the counter. She took a long drink of it.
“Want a drink?” Dina said distractedly as she walked back and curled up on the couch, her feet tucked beneath her. Lucia followed, watching her.
“No! I want you to tell me what you’re talking about.”
“All right. I went back to sleep this morning. When I woke up, I came out on the terrace, just looking around. I thought Mom or one of the aunts might be around. I saw this man come to our floor, and he was acting very sneaky. Looking all around. Then I saw Hugh Buhler—”
“Who is Hugh Buhler?”
“The bug man.”
“The bug man?”
“The exterminator!” Dina said impatiently.
“How do you know?”
Dina sighed with exasperation, pleating her robe with her free hand. “Because my mother meets everyone and instantly learns his—or her—life story within a matter of minutes. Ryan has a service—they come once a week. Anyway, once Hugh showed up, the man in the dark clothes hid!”
“What?”
“He hid. He ran back to the stairway and he hid. And he waited for Hugh to leave. Then he went back to our apartment, and he opened the door with a key!”
“So what makes you think Ryan knew about it? And why didn’t you tell him just now?”
Dina flushed. “I should have called the police, I suppose. But I went downstairs, and the door was slightly ajar. I don’t know what the guy was doing, but when I got near the door, I could hear him on the phone. And he was telling someone that he had checked it all out for Dandridge, and that he couldn’t find a thing.”
“What could he have been looking for?”
“Lopez?”
“He knew that Lopez wasn’t in there!”
“Lucia, I don’t know what’s going on, and I’m scared!”
Lucia sat on the couch and stared straight ahead. “Ryan can’t be guilty of anything,” she murmured.
“What if he took you to Charleston all day just to get you out of the apartment?”
“It’s his apartment—he could just have moved us if he’d wanted.”
“Not if he didn’t want to look suspicious.”
“Ryan can’t be guilty,” Lucia said firmly, “because there’s no way he could have moved that corpse the other night! I ran straight up to him!”
“But what if the corpse wasn’t really there?”
“Dina, I saw it!”
“Maybe you did see Lopez on the beach. But maybe you were so scared and keyed up that you just imagined that you saw him the second time.”
“No. I don’t know what’s going on, but Ryan can’t be responsible.”
“Lucia, if it isn’t Ryan, it just might be someone we love, someone in the family!”
“I don’t believe that, either.”
Lucia in Love Page 17