Sweet Home Carolina

by Rice, Patricia

* * *

  “You are so amazingly brilliant.” Amy laughed in delight as she stepped from the bedroom of their suite to the sound of a waltz flowing from hidden speakers and a handful of white-jacketed waiters setting an elegant table on the balcony.

  “I thought you might prefer a place without crowds for this evening,” Zack murmured, sweeping her into his arms and twirling her around the living room as if this were a Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers film. While she’d showered and changed, he’d donned a trendy long black dinner jacket over a stiff, pleated white shirt with a mandarin collar. Gold cufflinks glittered at his wrists and a small diamond served as collar button. He looked exactly as she imagined a European movie star would look gambling at the tables in Monaco. Her very own James Bond.

  They waltzed as if they’d danced together forever. Feeling light-headed, she stroked the hair brushing his collar. He tugged her closer to nibble at her ear. The layers of green silk and chiffon that Jo had helped her pick out swung around Amy’s legs, making her feel as graceful as the dancers on a movie screen. She had dreaded dancing in some loud nightclub or on a fancy dance floor where she would feel out of place. And Zack had understood, without asking.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “This is so perfect I think I must be dreaming.”

  “You deserve to live your dreams, but I want to be the man who takes you there,” he murmured back.

  She laughed at the notion, but she floated across the carpet as if it were a magic cloud. Her, practical Amy, living a dream with a man who could make the stars fall with a snap of his finger! For one moonstruck night, she could believe it.

  When the waltz ended, Zack bowed elegantly, placed her hand on his arm, and led her outside to the balcony overlooking a stunning view of the tree-studded mountains, with the reds and golds and bronzes of the autumn foliage highlighted by the setting sun.

  Amy gasped at the beauty of the idyllic scenery while waiters finished setting out china and silver on a linen-covered table. One popped the cork on a bottle of Cristal champagne and poured it into delicate flutes. Another pulled out a chair for Amy. After uncovering a deliciously browned roast duck, the waiters miraculously disappeared at a nod from Zack.

  “It is a different view of your home, is it not?” He moved his chair closer to hers and tipped his glass to hers. “To the wonders of home, be it ever so glorious.”

  She sipped and let the delicious bubbles tickle her tongue. How could she even begin to think in a setting like this, with a man like Zack beside her? She was aware of the closeness of his masculine thigh, the pressure of his foot against her sandal heels, the brush of his hand as he made the toast. This was the Zack she had imagined in his natural setting, the one who wined, dined, and danced with beautiful models in exotic surroundings.

  And he was here, with her, making her humble home seem as wonderful and mysterious as his was to her.

  Amy lost her last measure of self-consciousness and surrendered utterly to Zack’s play. Wantonly, she sipped her champagne, nibbled the duck, and slipped off her sandal to run her toes along his foot. Zack laughed and shifted so she could stroke his leg, and she nearly ended up in his lap. He fed her oysters and apricot tarts while his eyes smoked with a desire she could feel deep inside her.

  They talked about everything from favorite movies to space travel. Zack lowered his perpetual charm to argue vociferously in favor of exploring Mars until he realized she was simply baiting him by presenting the opposing argument. He leaned over and sipped champagne off her tongue, deepening their kiss until they had to either make love on the table or abandon it.

  “Not yet, my Amy,” he said, his voice a throaty purr as he pushed back from the table. “I want to dance with you and hold you close and make your dreams sweeter.”

  He swept her onto their own private dance floor again, and in Zack’s arms, Amy finally fell madly, unalterably in love.

  She hoped it was just the champagne and the giddiness of desire and the quiver of anticipation inspired by the heated look in Zack’s dark eyes, but she wasn’t examining or analyzing anything tonight. Tonight was for feeling, and she felt marvelous.

  “I am brilliant, am I not?” he asked, raising a mocking eyebrow before pulling her closer.

  The thin cloth of his slacks clung almost indecently to his narrow hips as he whirled her around the suite. Without giving it a second thought, Amy unfastened his tie and collar to uncover soft curls against bronzed skin. He held her close enough that she could watch the fine hairs curl when she puffed on them.

  “Ummm, enjoying this, are we?” he asked, returning the favor by blowing on her earrings.

  He’d bought her delightful silver feather earrings that caught the slightest breeze and sparkled in the light. She’d spent way too much time admiring them in the mirror before she’d been brave enough to emerge from the bedroom. And from the heat of his gaze, she gathered Zack was enjoying them equally well.

  But it was the sheer muscle of the man beneath the thin fabrics, the responsiveness of his body to her slightest touch, and the furnace blast of desire engulfing them as they moved as one around the room that she was enjoying most. Zack didn’t push and pull and drag her across the floor but anticipated the music and the way they swayed together without need of any more than a gentle touch on her back or hip.

  They were making love with clothing on.

  The waiters returned to clear the room. The moment they closed the door after them, Zack smoothed his long-fingered hand down Amy’s back, and her zipper whispered open. The strapless bodice fell with it.

  She slid her fingers into the placket of his shirt and popped the studs, one by one.

  He shrugged off his jacket and threw it across a sofa. She let her gown fall to her feet and stepped out of it as he swirled her in circles. His hand scorched her bare flesh when he pulled her back into his arms and danced her across the room again.

  He lowered her into a dip and caressed the silk barely covering her hips. “Garters — for me?” he purred with delight.

  She’d been unsure about wearing anything so blatantly sexy, but his pleasure in the discovery was worth hours of uncertainty. And this moment made them the perfect choice. She could never have imagined how effective they would be — as Zack’s hungry gaze focused downward, caressing her breasts in the demi bra, fastening on the silky stockings and saucy green garters.

  “I’ll let you wear them, if you like,” she teased, enjoying his pleasure by daringly pushing his shirt from his shoulders and planting a kiss at the base of his throat.

  He chuckled and released her wired bra. Amy closed her eyes and breathed a deep sigh of relief and desire as his hands took hers and slid them around his neck, then cupped her unfettered breasts. His arousal pressed against her belly, and the dance slowly swayed to a halt in front of the fireplace, where a fire crackled.

  Zack lowered his head to claim her mouth. Amy lifted hers to meet him.

  “Tonight, you are mine,” he whispered.

  She didn’t argue because he was right. They were no longer inexperienced in the way each other’s bodies worked. She had learned he was sensitive to touch, and that she need only run her palms over his skin to feel his erection lengthen. He knew she responded to soft music and sweet tastes. She’d been seduced before he even laid her across the pillows on the floor.

  “Stay with me, Amy,” he murmured as the last of their clothing slipped away. “Let me show you the world.”

  And because he was showing her a world she’d never known, she let the words become part of the dream they were creating in the warmth of the flames, a dream she could never hope to attain, but one that opened her arms and heart and let her take him in.

  For now. For the moment.

  Twenty-nine

  “Where are the brochures? They were supposed to be here by now.” Amy asked, dumping a cardboard box of supplies in the company’s High Point booth. It was noon already, after their heart-stoppingly blissful evening — and a fevered encore be
fore breakfast.

  Her insides were mush from Zack’s fervent kisses but, as he’d warned, he was all business today. And she needed to be, too. The town and Zack and the mill all depended on them. Amy could feel a full scale panic attack impending.

  Their booth was on an upper floor of the multilevel furniture mart at the High Point furniture showcase. The aisles bustled with transport men in coveralls, business people in corporate attire, and a host of others in every state of dress imaginable, creating a state of organized anarchy.

  That Zack and Emily and several of their other employees were standing there, waiting for her to pull the booth together, did not soothe her clamoring nerves.

  “I need to find the receiving department. Where is receiving?” Trying not to dig her hands into the professional cut and style she’d had done yesterday so she wouldn’t look like a heathen, she abandoned her search and shoved stacks of paper aside looking for the directory.

  Zack caught her wrists and forced her to stand still. His strength was normally reassuring, his touch was always thrilling, but right now, she didn’t have time for anything except a nervous breakdown.

  “Emily will find the brochures,” he said firmly. “That is her job. My job was to create these designs and now, to sell them. Yours is to display them. Now put your magic to work. Where do you wish the table to go?”

  He made it sound so easy. “The table? The table.” She glanced around frantically, measuring with her eyes the size of the space they’d rented. “It will never fit. How did I ever think we would make this work?”

  “The same way it will work in your cottage,” Zack said patiently. “Think of this as your dining room. We have only one solid wall, so that is where the draperies go, correct?”

  Drawing on his limitless patience, Amy took a deep breath. Zack had confidence in her. He wouldn’t pitch a fit if she did this wrong. She knew how to decorate. One thing at a time.

  She gazed at the blank white divider. “Yes, if this is the dining room tableau, we’ll need the floral print and the wrought-iron rod across the back wall.”

  She turned to look for the drapery hanger, but Zack continued holding her while gesturing at one of the men he’d hired to move the furniture and samples in here.

  “Management, remember,” he murmured. “You do not have to do it all yourself.”

  Yes, she did. She’d always done it all herself. Chosen the fabrics, sewed the hems, hung the draperies.…

  Deep breath. She nodded, and after brushing a kiss against her cheek, Zack reluctantly released her.

  “Now, I must make the contacts. That is what I do. You will be all right here with Emily and Luigi,” he stated, as if there was no question.

  Amazingly, his trust bred confidence that she could do this.

  They would be spending the entire week together, a stressful week on which their entire futures relied, in more ways than one. In these next days, she had to learn to stand on her own. She didn’t know how Zack was feeling about his level of commitment, but she had to brace herself for whatever came when the trade show ended. He’d already exceeded his stay by far longer than even he expected.

  “Yes, yes, I’ll be fine,” she said slowly. “If you do the talking and just leave me to do the decorating, this will be great.”

  Amy watched Zack stride off with the confidence of a man who knew his place in this chaotic crowd. He looked wealthy and aristocratic in one of his European designer suits tailored to his wide shoulders and lean hips. But he wore his high-collared silk shirt open with no tie, unlike most of the American businessmen around them, so even though he’d had his hair trimmed and removed his ear stud to look more professional, Zack stood out in the crowd.

  People noticed him, which worked to his advantage.

  Amy watched as he enthusiastically pumped someone’s hand, grabbed him by the shoulder as if he were his best friend in the world, and produced a business card in one coordinated movement. She didn’t doubt he’d judged the other man’s samples, his status on the playing field, and the cash in his bank account at the same time.

  This was one tiny corner of the huge world Zack operated in. She’d only accompanied Evan here upon occasion, arranging private dinners with selected executives, acting as his secretary when necessary.

  She turned to Luigi, who leaned against a post, arms crossed, surveying the chaos with professional serenity. “Do you need to go with him?” she asked cautiously, knowing he preferred to guard Zack’s back.

  The driver snorted. “He’s in his element here. You’re the one who needs looking after. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll find someone to do it for you.”

  Amy had to laugh at his way of phrasing it. “Fine. I need the table moved front and center. Snap your fingers, O Magic Genie.”

  She could learn to enjoy having someone else do the grunt work.

  * * *

  Returning from a page calling her downstairs to the reception lobby, Emily found Amy unwrapping the crystal glassware and whispered frantically, “The Smithsonian is here for their appointment with Zack.”

  The Smithsonian? Amy had hysterical images of the Victorian “Castle” of the institute trundling through the crowded aisles, its massive stones shoving booths aside and crushing the furnishings to splinters.

  She’d been watching way too many cartoons with the kids.

  “I can’t reach him on his cell,” Emily continued, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting monsters to leap from the crowd. “I left them at the reception desk. What do I do?”

  Panic. Lie down and cry. Hide under the nearest bench. Why the devil hadn’t Zack told her the Smithsonian was coming?

  Because she’d have had a panic attack just thinking about it.

  Gulping, Amy sat back on her heels and tried to think. “His cell wasn’t working in the basement lunchroom.” She glanced back at Luigi, who’d already lowered the carton he was carrying. “Would you go look for him there? And, Emily, keep trying to reach him.”

  She couldn’t leave important people cooling their heels in this madhouse. An interview with the Smithsonian could bring in orders faster than the mill could produce them. She couldn’t possibly give them the historical detail and production information that were second nature to Zack. She’d have to fake it until he got here.

  “Escort them up here,” she told Emily with resignation.

  With Luigi hunting for Zack, and Emily off to the lobby, Amy checked the mirror in her compact to be certain she hadn’t set her hair on end or smudged dirt on her face. She freshened her lipstick, applied mascara, and practiced the smile she’d learned for Evan’s guests.

  Left alone, she shook in her shoes and prayed she’d see Zack confidently sauntering through the crowd before the reporters arrived. She was an executive, she tried to remind herself. A Very Important Person. She was not a housewife. She was a corporate officer with the lives of scores of families at her mercy.

  How did people live with this responsibility every day?

  * * *

  “They’re here, already? How unusually timely of them.” Cheerfully, Zack shouldered the champagne crate his employee had lugged. “We’ll need ice for this. There’s a bucket in the truck, if you would be so good as to get it.” As the worker hurried away, Zack glanced up to see Luigi shouldering his way through the crowd in his direction. “I am found,” he called.

  “Are you trying to lose the woman?” Luigi grumbled, taking the crate on his shoulder. “She looked like she’d pass out last I saw of her.”

  “These are intelligent scholars interested in the history of textiles and wishing to examine the valuable discovery we have made. Amy will handle them just fine,” Zack said confidently, forging his way through the crowd.

  “She’s nervous,” Luigi argued. “You’re making a mistake if you think you can drag her around like you did the others, ignoring them and leaving them to their own devices.”

  For a moment, Zack worried. He had left Gabrielle to her own devices o
nce, and look what had happened. Perhaps Luigi was right. Perhaps he should be more careful with Amy.

  But he did not have time for alarm. Seeing the video camera ahead, he squared his shoulders and strode confidently through the crowd. He would rescue Amy and send her back to the hotel to relax.

  As the aisle opened to allow Luigi to stride through with his heavy crate, Zack paused, stunned by the impact of their booths. He’d chosen a corner where they could be seen from two aisles. On this side was the living room tableau with the settle cushioned in blue silk jacquard. A hastily improvised quilt of their various red, cream, and navy printed designs hung casually over the back and arm, setting the colonial mood for his historic fabrics and tying together all the other colors in the tableau.

  She’d created cream-and-gold trimmed swags for the navy velvet and framed the enlarged prints of other designs as if they were mullioned windows. The chaise longue was upholstered in the cream brocade and piled high in more pillows from their collection. A delicate-legged oak sideboard with a runner of cream silk decorated in their floral design added that touch of luxury he’d insisted upon.

  She was brilliant and priceless.

  Not seeing Amy or his guests in this space, he hurried around the corner to the dining room tableau, and again he paused for the sheer pleasure of it.

  With her rich brown curls trimmed into neat layers that framed her oval face, Amy was a model of professional style. She chatted animatedly with a scholarly gentleman holding one of their brochures. Her eyes sparkled with interest, and her rosy cheeks nearly matched the lovely rose suit she’d chosen to wear. It was a matronly suit that deserved a Jackie Kennedy little pillbox hat and gloves in his opinion, but somehow, Amy made it look as if she’d just stepped out of a Saks display.

  The writer was drinking in her every word. Smiling with pride and fighting a decided twinge of jealousy toward the man holding Amy’s attention, Zack shoved a hand into his pocket and strolled up as if he had nothing else in the world to do.

  The booth was packed with men examining the product.