by Lisa Norato
She sipped, yet William hesitated. “I’m not entirely sure I should be drinking to that.” Still, he downed a swallow, then handed back the glass, and raised the screen so he could poke his head out the window for a look.
Beneath a canvas awning and surrounded by greenery, a small, round table had been laid with a pink-checkered cloth and a centerpiece of fresh dahlias. A pair of garden chairs wore deeper pink slipcovers. Impatiens and hostas flourished in the sunlight, and a small herb garden scented the air.
William hooked a leg over the sill, then ducked his head and pulled himself through the window onto a decking of weathered cedar planking.
“Positively bucolic. Remind me again. Are we somewhere in the European countryside? This can’t possibly be New York.”
“Believe it or not, you are now standing on the roof of a Madison Avenue barbershop.”
“Fantastic.” He saw rows of adjacent brownstone gardens, just as well maintained, verdant with potted plants and ivy crawling down their walls.
Certainly, this was more romantic than any inner-city restaurant he could have afforded. Amazing quality of Marcella’s, her ability to take the simplest of life’s pleasures and make them memorable. She’d started from humble beginnings, and with her God-given talents and a lot of hard work, made quite a success of herself. Coming from privilege, it was an accomplishment he greatly admired.
“Dinner’s getting cold,” she warned, shaking him from his musings.
“Right. Of course.” He turned back to the window and transferred the plates and glassware she passed him to the table, then assisted her onto the terrace.
Awareness of her simmered inside him as he stood behind her, holding her chair. Then he took his place opposite her and admired the spread. She’d obviously gone to a great deal of effort to make this evening perfect, and on such short notice. As he said grace over the meal, he offered a special thanks for the good fortune that had made it possible for him to be with Marcella tonight.
She voiced an enthusiastic “Amen,” then lifted her gaze to his.
With a wink, William tucked in to his supper. He’d been noshing for several minutes when he remembered his manners and complimented her on the meal. “And, how much longer, d’you s’pose you’ll push that bit of carrot round your plate before you actually eat it. You haven’t touched a nibble.”
“I’ve been enjoying watching you eat.”
“Happy to entertain you.” He took a swallow of wine. “Aunt Lynne’s told me about the promotion you’re to be offered at tomorrow’s meeting. Seems she’s spoiled the surprise. Anyway, well done, Marcella.” He raised his glass to her. “You must be excited.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, it’s a great opportunity. But let’s not talk about work tonight, okay?”
William put his glass down and leaned forward. “I don’t understand. I thought you’d be pleased. Isn’t this promotion what you’ve always wanted?”
She nodded. “I know, I know. It is. I’m just saying, for tonight, I’d rather not talk about what’s happening tomorrow, or our careers, or how much time we have before you go back to England. Tonight, let’s be totally in the moment, right here and now, you and me, as though nothing in the world matters but us.”
William beamed. It sounded like a brilliant plan, except there were all sorts of things that did matter. Like the fact that, if, or more likely when, Marcella accepted her promotion, there’d no longer be an “us,” would there? What future did they have when their schedules didn’t allow them to be together? Three months between visits was far too unbearable. Disturbing that she didn’t want to discuss it.
He stared at what was left of the food on his plate. Suddenly, he’d lost his appetite.
She frowned. “What is it?”
Perhaps this was his opportunity to say the words he’d been rehearsing. Moments slipped by before William gazed into her eyes, dead serious. She sat poised on the edge of her seat, waiting. Then, as he began to open his mouth, she jumped up.
“Time for dessert.”
“Dessert? But we’ve only started with dinner.” She reached for his plate, but William covered it with his hand.
“Suit yourself.” He caught something devious in her smile before she turned and carried her own dinner back to the window.
“Marcella,” he called after her, “is this some sort of gag?”
Ignoring him, she hiked up her skirt and swung a leg over the sill. She paused and glanced back, straddling the window’s ledge and taunting him with a pale, slender thigh. Was the woman trying to drive him mad?
She disappeared with a giggle, leaving him totally in bits. William refilled his wine glass, then got up from the table and crossed to the edge of the terrace where he stared blankly at the Madison Avenue traffic below. With each sip of zinfandel, the sun sank lower in the Manhattan skyline and his reasons for not making love to Marcella swirled in a foggy mist that clouded his mind.
Moments later, he heard her return. She emerged from the window and approached him with something concealed behind her back. The smooth silk of her dress poured over her sylphlike figure and incredibly long legs to outline her hips and thighs with each saucy stride. William found himself in temptation up to the dog collar he wasn’t wearing. He didn’t trust himself.
He stepped away from the railing. “Marcella, I’ve no idea what this is about, but I’m not feeling like cheesecake at the moment.”
“At the moment, neither do I.” Her lips were full and moist, her tone sensual.
She presented him with a delicate china dessert plate. On it, a purple foil square rested on a lace doily. William stared. Bertie’s condom? That hideous purple sheath she’d threatened to smuggle back to America.
Obviously, she’d succeeded.
And was he supposed to be amused? Was this some sort of gag? No, he hardly thought so. Not if Marcella’s amorous gaze were any indication. Her dark eyes were as intoxicating as any drug. Desire swam through his veins, stimulating his heartbeat, pumping all the blood to the lower half of his body so he’d none left in his head to form a coherent thought. His defenses crashed.
He’d absolutely no resistance left.
*
Marcella inched closer to William. “The cheesecake was really thoughtful and sweet. But, you know, as sensual as chocolate may be, indulging only gives me a quick high then leaves me empty. There’s only one thing that will truly satisfy me. One man, is what I’m trying to say.”
Marcella released a breath. There, she’d said it.
The plate trembled in her hand, which had nothing to do with the two glasses of wine she’d consumed or the slight buzz that resulted.
She’d lain her emotions bare, exposed all over her face for William to see. She’d missed him. Really missed him. And now that he was here, she wanted … no, needed to be close to him. As close as two consenting adults could possibly get. Was that so wrong?
His eyes blazed wolfishly. She took that as a no to her unspoken question and a definite yes to everything else. The naughty side of Honorable William unleashed. The anticipation alone was enough to drive her to the brink of an orgasmic meltdown.
He reached for the plate. Marcella scooped up the condom before William could set it on the table with his wine glass. She clutched it protectively behind her back as he cupped her chin and gazed hungrily into her eyes. He yanked her close, angled his head. Her own eyes closed, lips parted… .
His mouth slammed down on hers. Their kiss was insatiable, frantic. Marcella plunged the fingers of her free hand in his thick chestnut waves. William tugged on her sweater, pulling it off her shoulders.
She lowered her arms to let it fall. Already, his fingers were at her back searching for the zipper, while he guided her steps backwards towards the window. They broke apart, pausing to catch their breaths before they climbed through. Marcella went first, then William followed, moving so hastily he banged his head on the sill.
“Bugger.”
“Ooh, sweetie. Here, le
t me see.” As Marcella held her arms out to him, William ducked his head and she kissed the spot. She fluffed his hair and continued the kisses down the side of his face, skimming her soft lips across his abrasive jaw, then ran her tongue along the outer curve of his ear. “I know just how to make it better,” she promised in a soft whisper.
She nibbled his earlobe and he expressed his pleasure in a painfully deep moan. When he raised his face to hers, his watercolor eyes were clouded with lust.
Later, they’d take their time, but for now Marcella didn’t think either one of them could wait a moment longer.
William kicked off his shoes. Marcella pulled her zipper the remainder of the way down her back. He yanked his sweater over his head and tossed it to the floor. She slipped the dress off one shoulder, then followed with the next, hypnotized by his smooth, toned chest.
While William watched, Marcella glided the dress down her hips and let it crumble at her feet. Then she stepped from the silky puddle in nothing but a black lace plunge bra and a pair of matching boyshorts.
William swallowed, staring into the deep V of her bra with hunger and wanting. “Black lace?”
Marcella giggled, moving closer. “Black lace, yes.” His chest rose and fell heavily with his breathing. She stretched forth a hand and pressed her palm to his heart.
He encircled her waist and drew her close. “Suits you perfectly. But then, you’d look gorgeous in anything, I’d imagine. You’re incredibly beautiful.”
She loved the soft, hoarse tone his voice had taken, the intense, hot look that glittered beneath his lashes. It took all her strength to pull away so she could turn down the ivory matelassé coverlet on her bed. She climbed on, making room for William beside her as they stretched upon the cool cotton sheets.
A breeze blew in off the terrace as they kissed. Long sweet kisses that lingered, while they sought nothing more than to hold each other.
Soon Marcella grew impatient. She found the condom she’d tucked beneath one corner of a pillow. She snatched it up, sticking the foil packet between her teeth while she reached for the waistband of William’s pants with both hands.
“Wait.”
Marcella glanced at the strong fingers encircling her wrist, to the frown that creased William’s forehead, to his alert gaze, which only seconds ago had been dreamy with desire.
“Wait,” he softly repeated, loosening his grip. “I know you think this is clever, but I really don’t want to recall our first time together wearing my wankish brother Bertie’s purple condom.”
Marcella spit out the packet. “Okay, okay, that’s cool. There’s a drug store just around the—”
“No.” With a pained expression, William struggled to rise. “Actually, I was thinking of something more in the way of a cold shower. I, we, can’t do this.”
With trance-like movements, Marcella raised herself to a seated position.
William swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. He hung his head, raking his fingers through his hair. “Bertie slipped me that condom as a sort of challenge. Taunting me to seduce you that first night we met. I don’t believe he’s ever accepted my decision to become a vicar. It’s all a joke to him, really.”
With a sigh, he turned to meet her gaze. “But you must understand, Marcella, I take my calling quite seriously. And at the risk of boring you with yet another speech, I can’t possibly make love to you tonight and pretend that what happens tomorrow doesn’t matter. It does matter, you see. The future matters quite a lot, actually.”
Marcella hugged her knees to her chest and nodded numbly, trying to wrap her mind around what was happening. Or more accurately, not going to happen. “Wow. Yeah, I see.”
She couldn’t say she was surprised, just a little jolted by William’s timing and awed at his strength. She told herself not to take this personally. They’d confronted this issue once before. But the thing was, she remembered William’s words. He’d told her he didn’t believe in making love outside of a committed, serious relationship. She couldn’t help but wonder, didn’t what they felt for each other qualify as serious?
Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. If this evening had gone as she’d hoped, they’d be cuddling beneath the sheets right now, wrapped in each other’s arms. Maybe she’d be telling William how much she loved him. But they weren’t, and he hadn’t mentioned anything about love.
William stood and zipped up his fly.
“Since I’ve arrived, I’ve tried devilishly hard not to lose control. How could I’ve let things go so far?”
Marcella got up and padded to the closet for a robe. “Relax, you’re human. It just happened.”
“Well, that’s not entirely true now, is it?”
Had she detected a hint of accusation in his tone? Marcella slung the robe over her shoulders as she turned to face him and pulled it tightly about her waist. “What do you mean?”
“I’d have thought you’d be a bit more supportive. Instead, you insisted we spend the evening at your flat, and you’ve been keen on making love since I walked through your door.”
“Are you saying I seduced you?” Her defenses rose so fast, Marcella could barely think straight. She folded her arms angrily. “Fine, it’s my fault, then. The vicar and the tart.”
His blank stare annoyed her further.
“The vicar and the tart?” he inquired.
“That is so unfair.”
He leaned closer. “Sorry, did you say, the vicar and the tart?”
She glared until he started to grin, then as they continued to stare at one another, they burst into laughter.
“Forgive me, Marcella. Of course I’m every bit as responsible. I’m just a bit… .” He drew a breath from the depths of his chest, “Well, frustrated, d’you know what I mean?”
“I know.” Marcella shared his frustration. And if she felt frustrated, then she could only imagine the agony he was in. But if William could remain true to his principles under these conditions, Marcella believed he could do anything.
“I’m the one who’s sorry,” she confessed.
“No, I’m really sorry.”
“I’m totally sorry. I served you a condom. Seduction doesn’t get much more obvious than that. Look, why don’t we just start over, okay? You go take that cold shower, and I’ll brew a pot of coffee and serve up the cheesecake.” She enticed him with a small smile. “Despite what I said earlier, chocolate’s not such a bad consolation.”
“I am rather peckish.”
“Great. Bathroom’s this way.”
As she started for the door, he whisked his sweater off the floor and made to follow, only to pause at her opened closet door. “You’ve an unbelievably organized cupboard.”
He was looking inside with such interest, for a moment Marcella thought the sex deprivation might have addled his brain.
“Yeah, me, organized. What a shocker.”
“There’s all these tidy little boxed shelves. Is this some sort of shoe filing system?”
Marcella suspected he was teasing, but before she could arrive at a good comeback, he turned to her, saying, “Earlier in your office I noticed a shoe chucked carelessly in the bin. Seems a bit out of character for someone so obsessively meticulous.”
“I-I am not … obsessive.”
“Just curious. What sort of ‘situation’ would make you disabuse a perfectly fine pair of shoes?”
He was far too perceptive. Her conscience prickled as she recalled the reason. And although she was squirming beneath her white terry robe, she replied casually, “Nothing important.”
“Has something happened?”
She opened her mouth to respond with an emphatic “no” only to hesitate at his intense awareness of even her slightest expression. He’d know immediately if she didn’t tell him the truth. Anything short of complete honesty would be an insult.
Resigning herself, Marcella explained, briefly, how she met the friend of a co-worker for lunch, unburdening the frightening experience that result
ed and confessing that maybe the reason she agreed to the meeting at all was because she’d felt a little insecure about where things stood with William.
Not that she was making excuses.
“But it definitely wasn’t a date,” she assured him.
His expression turned stormy. “You met a stranger for lunch? Then stayed through dessert? I’m not a total git, you know. That bloody well is a date. He looked as though she’d just socked him in the gut.
She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She’d never have taken William for the jealous type. She had to make him understand, it was nothing. Nothing. “Believe me, you have absolutely no reason to feel threatened.”
“Oh, but I am threatened. Absolutely. Totally threatened. Actually, the word I had in mind was ‘jealous’. But ‘threatened’ sums up my feelings quite accurately.” He pulled his sweater over his head and tugged it down over his torso.
“Look, let me be really clear, okay? Since meeting you, I haven’t been interested in anyone else. It was just an impromptu thing. And a decision I obviously regret.” Marcella gave a small, nervous laugh. “If it’s any comfort, I don’t think Jack had any interest in me outside of my feet.”
She had hoped for something a little more encouraging than a scowl.
“Jack. Right. Your feet? Sorry, not consoled in the knowledge you spent an entire afternoon in the company of a man whose intent it was to touch any part of your person with his tongue. And the sad part is, I have no right to feel jealous. A fact I’m perfectly aware of, as it obviously was to you when you decided to meet this bloke. We don’t have any sort of commitment, or even a future for that matter. Not with me in England and you here in New York.”
He looked so crestfallen, Marcella grew alarmed. She needed to reassure him. But she didn’t know what to say. She had no answers herself.
“I believe we need to think about making some choices,” he said.
“Choices?”
He nodded. “Sorry, but suddenly I’ve lost my appetite,” he said, searching for his shoes. “Probably not such a good idea anyway, for me to stick round here tonight when you’ve such an important meeting in the morning.”