[The Sons of Lily Moreau 02] - Taming the Playboy

by Marie Ferrarella

  Hand planted on his chest, she pushed him back against the cushions. Leaning over his face, her lips grazed his so lightly it was almost more of a promise of a kiss than an actual kiss.

  “How few?” she whispered, her breath caressing his skin. Smiling, she glided just the very tip of her tongue along the outline of his mouth, moving back out of reach when he tried to kiss her. There was laughter in her eyes.

  He could feel his blood quickening, could feel the adrenaline surging as the anticipation of another wild ride began to form. Craning his neck up away from the sofa cushion, Georges cupped her face between his hands and brought it down so that his mouth captured hers. He kissed her long and hard as all systems came back on line, declaring their readiness to go at will.

  “This few,” he said against her mouth before he kissed her again.

  They went slower this time, but still fast enough to all but set the sofa cushions on fire. Their positions were reversed. While she had been the one to take the initiative before, only to have him steal the reins from her, this time around Georges began their intimate dance only to have her suddenly take over the lead.

  Viennafeasted on his body just the way he had on hers earlier, driving him crazy with desire until he was fairly certain he would have given her anything she asked for. He knew he’d willingly given her his soul.

  They made love twice more until, both spent beyond all reason or measure, Georges andVienna fell asleep in each other’s arms. Georges slowly stirred. It took him a moment to realize that his eyes were shut. He’d fallen asleep. The same moment that occurred to him, what had preceded came back to him in vivid color.

  Vienna, lighting his world the way it had never been lit before.

  Vienna. The emptiness beside him registered even before he opened his eyes. As did an incredible feeling of abandonment. That was something he’d never felt before. Something he was quick to bank down. Because it was so unlike him, he attributed it to the strange way the evening had unfolded.

  “Vienna?”

  There was no answer. He scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to pull himself together. Trying to get his brain back in focus. Light came in from the hallway. It was still dark outside. That meant not too much time had lapsed. How much was not too much? He couldn’t make out the numbers on his wrist watch.

  Getting up, Georges quickly pulled on his pants. For the time being, he left everything else off. He needed to find out whereVienna was before he thought about mundane things like socks.

  The moment he left the bedroom, he heard noise coming from below. Someone was up and about downstairs. He padded down the stairs, his bare feet brushing against the raised design of the gray carpeting.

  Rather than call out her name again, he decided to silently investigate her whereabouts. To his relief and somewhat surprise, he foundVienna in the kitchen. Her back to the entrance, she was wearing a coverall apron that draped loosely over a pair of jeans and a blue pullover sweater.

  He would have preferred seeing her in just the apron alone. As he crossed the threshold, he saw thatVienna had slipped something into the microwave oven. She pressed a combination of buttons on the keypad, then Start. The light went on inside the microwave and the turntable rotated.

  Georges snuck up behind her, then slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her against his chest. She didn’t squeal in surprise.

  He had a feeling she’d probably seen his reflection in the shiny surface of the toaster that stood next to the microwave. “I thought you weren’t hungry.”

  She placed her hands over his, not to remove them but, for the moment, to press them even more tightly against her. Absorbing his strength.

  “I didn’t say that.” And then she turned in the circle of his arms until she faced him and could look up into his eyes. “I was just more hungry for something else.” Before Georges could teasingly make reference to her other appetite, she rose on her toes and brushed her lips against his. Once, twice and then a third time, each pass lasting a little bit longer than the last. And then, wrapping her arms around his neck,Vienna kissed him long and hard.

  She was smiling when she finally drew her head back to look at him again.

  “What?” he asked.

  Her smile was positively wicked as her eyes dipped down to just below his waist. “It feels as if you want to play again.”

  He laughed, holding her closer again. She made him feel carefree and yet serious at the same time. “Is that what you call it now? ‘Playing?’” Viennanodded her head. Playing. That was the label she had to put on it. Because, she sensed, calling it anything more serious might scare him off. Georges was not a man who played for keeps, he was a man who merely played.

  And she, well, she wasn’t altogether sure what she was right now. A little while ago, she would have said that when she played, it was for all the marbles. Because making love with someone was very serious to her. But being with Georges even this one time had changed all the rules on her. It didn’t, ultimately, make her want any less, but it made her willing to settle for less.

  Because wanting more, asking for more, would only give her nothing. She was going to have to take this man on his terms—drawing them out a little more each time, until perhaps, just perhaps, his terms and hers met somewhere in the middle. Until then—ifthen ever came—she was more than willing to dance this strange dance whose music she found filling her head.

  “Uh-huh,” she murmured just before he deepened the kiss she had initiated. And then, as he came up for air, Georges grinned as he looked into her eyes. “You’ve got my head spinning so much, I could swear I hear bells ringing.” “You did,” she told him, her mouth curving. When he looked at her, puzzled, she explained, “That’s the microwave.”Vienna nodded her head toward the counter. “I think it’s done.”

  “But I’m not,” he told her just before he lowered his mouth to hers again.

  Chapter Eleven AmosSchwarzwaldengripped the arms of his wheelchair, not for support but because he couldn’t wait to be free of it. He’d insisted that he could walk across the hospital threshold to his freedom, but Shelly, the cute day nurse he’d been flirting with for the last few days, had informed him that use of the wheelchair was mandatory hospital policy. No one was released from an overnight stay at Blair Memorial unless they were wheeled out.

  He’d promised not to sue, no matter what happened, but the nurse just continued to look at him until he finally got off the bed and reluctantly lowered himself into the wheelchair.

  Watching the exchange, both verbal and silent,Vienna gave serious thought to kidnapping the young woman and bringing her home with them. Shelly seemed to be able to handle her grandfather a lot better than she could.

  Much to Amos’s obvious dismay, Shelly was not the one taking him down to the front entrance. But he lit up again when he saw who was. Georges. That made two of them,Vienna thought, returning the greeting the doctor tendered to first her grandfather, then to her. Was it her imagination, or had his

  eyes lingered on her a little longer? At times like this, it was hard to remember that she was a grown woman with one lengthy relation ship, not to mention engagement, behind her. Especially when her pulse insisted on racing.

  “You are taking me out of here?” Amos asked, craning his neck to look at Georges more closely.

  Georges took hold of the wheelchair’s handles. “I insisted.” He glanced again inVienna ’s direction. “Ready?”

  “I am,” Amos declared, as exuberant as a school boy about to embark on his first day of summer vacation.

  Georges began to push the chair out of the room and down the hallway. “Then we’re on our way.” Viennafell into place beside him. She wore that perfume of hers again, he noted. The one that instantly drugged him and brought intimate images into his mind. It filled the empty service elevator just enough so that he couldn’t concentrate. Amos was talking to him and he hadn’t heard a single word.

  “Do not be a stranger, now,” Amos said as they left the
confines of the elevator car. Georges took a deep breath, trying to counteract the effects ofVienna ’s sensual scent. “Remember, I want you to feel free to come by the bakery at any time.” They took the shortest route to the front entrance, making their way down a newlyrecarpeted corridor. “There will always be a box of pastries waiting for you.” Turning again in his seat, this time to the other side, Amos glanced slyly at his granddaughter. “Among other things perhaps.”

  She’d been pushy enough for both of them last night,Vienna thought. Georges didn’t need her grandfather applying pressure, as well. The man was as subtle as a cave-in.

  “Grandpa,” she admonished, “Dr. Armand has more important things to do than spend his free time hanging aroundVienna ’s Finest.”

  Amos was not easily daunted. “Every man needs to relax a little.”

  Viennalaughed shortly. “This from a man who refuses to even lie down when he’s sick.” “I am not sick,” Amos insisted with feeling. “I am healthy, right, Georges?” He turned his head toward the younger man for backup. “Otherwise, they would not be letting me go from this fine establishment.” He waited for agreement. “Am I correct?”

  “Absolutely,” Georges told him, doing his best to look somber. Satisfied, Amos turned back around to face front. Georges caught the concerned look inVienna ’s eye. “Just remember not to overdo it,” Georges warned.

  Amos nodded his head. “I will remember.” A small “Ha!” escapedVienna ’s lips. When he looked at her, she pointed out, “Notice that my grandfather promised that he’d remember, not that he wouldn’t overdo it.” Her grandfather was well versed when it came to artfully dodging any appeals regarding taking life a little easier.

  Amos sighed, clasping his hands in his lap. “I have you for that.”

  “You’d better believe it,”Vienna assured him with feeling. She intended to be his nurse and his keeper until she was satisfied that he had fully recovered. Georges pushed the wheelchair across the threshold as the electronic doors drew open for them. The late-morning air was welcoming and sultry. Just likeVienna , he caught himself thinking. Georges brought the wheelchair to a stop on the wide rubber welcome mat just beyond the threshold.

  Amos shifted so that he could see him. His smile was warm, appealing. Another trait he shared with his granddaughter, Georges thought. “Well, my young friend, I cannot say it has not been interesting.” Leaning forward, he took Georges’ hand and instead of shaking it, held it in both of his. Despite the various conditions that had stricken him, he was still a short bull of a man with powerful hands. “And I am very glad that you have come into our lives, mine andVienna ’s. Very glad,” he underscored, still clasping the doctor’s hand. He beamed. “I will see you again.”

  “Count on it. I want to see you back here for a checkup with Dr. Schulman in two weeks.” He raised his eyes toVienna ’s face for a confirmation. She nodded, but it was Amos who answered. His tone was less than glowing when he spoke of the surgeon.

  “Ah, yes, Dr. Schulman. The man who does not smile.” Amos shook his head, as if he pitied anyone who found life so somber.Vienna had mentioned that her grandfather had been a boy inAustria during World War II and had endured a great many hardships, only some of which he shared with her. That the man found the will and the strength only to look at the bright side of life was an amazing testimonial to his character. “I will see him, too. But you, you are the one Iwant to see.”

  Georges nodded and slowly extricated his hand. For a moment, he made no comment. Instead, he looked over towardVienna . He’d left her house in the wee hours of the morning instead of staying the night. He’d wanted to, God help him, but it was something, as a rule, he never did.

  Looking at her, he felt regret rippling through him, surfacing out of the shadows. A first, he thought as he felt a warmth spread over him because he was looking at her. Nothing more.

  Another first. He was going to have to get hold of himself, he silently promised. But for now, there were last-minute instructions to give. “A home health care nurse will be calling you this afternoon,” he told both of them. “I’ve seen to the paperwork myself.” And he had, calling in a favor so that Amos would be given the maximum amount of care for a minimum cost. He’d promised to take care of the rest, making sure no one told either the old man orVienna .

  “Make sure she’s young,” Amos requested with a wicked wink. “And pretty.”

  “Make sure she’s fast,”Vienna added. She smiled fondly down at her grandfather. “He’s pretty quick when he wants to be.”

  “I’ll pass that along,” Georges said, then asked, “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

  “Sure.” Securing Amos’s wheelchair so that it wouldn’t roll away, Georges stepped over to the side.Vienna followed, then waited, holding her breath. Afraid that he was going to say something he didn’t want her grandfather to hear, something about Amos’s health that he hadn’t been apprised of.

  “Yes?” she pressed when he didn’t say anything immediately. Georges took in a subtle breath. “I’d like to see you again. Once your grandfather’s settled in and there’s a routine in place,” he added quickly. Damn it, he was tripping over his tongue. When was the last time that that had happened? To his recollection, never. It was her doing, all hers.

  Run,an urgent voice in his head ordered.Run now, while you still can . Itwas something he didn’t want her grandfather to hear,Vienna thought, a smile blossoming on her lips. But an entirely different something than she’d initially thought. A lovely something. She was so relieved, she could have cried.

  “I’d like that,” she answered softly. “Why don’t you take him up on his invitation? Come by the house, say tomorrow night for dinner?” Georges could see that Amos was trying very hard to hear what they were saying and still appear not to be listening. He found it hard not to smile. “His invitation was for the bakery,” he reminded her.

  “Bakery, house, there’s not much difference. My grandfather practically lives at the bakery and I’m sure he will again, once he’s well.” He liked the idea of seeing her again. And the idea of having a chaperon might help keep things in check until he figured out just what was going on here. “What time?” he asked.

  That was purely up to him, she thought. “When can you make it?” For a second, Georges tried to remember his schedule. Most of the time, it was up in the air. His shift could get switched around at any time, entirely at the discretion of the attending physician or anyone else who outranked him.

  “I’m going to have to get back to you on that later today,” he confessed. She began to reach into her purse. “You need my cell number?” He put his hand on hers, stopping her. Or maybe it was his smile that did it. She couldn’t think when her bones were melting faster than snow in July. “Still have it

  from when you gave it to me at the hospital the first time.” “Okay. Good.” She nodded, pleased more than she could possibly say. Her grandfather was coming home and Georges had just indicated that last night wasn’t just a glorious one-night stand but perhaps something with a little more substance. God was in His heaven and all was right with the world. “Can you wait with my grandfather while I bring up the car?” She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she waited for his answer.

  Georges felt his gut tighten. He wanted to kiss her. But he was good at keeping his true thoughts from showing on his face. So he nodded and gave her the easy smile that everyone always associated with him.

  “My pleasure,” he told her.

  “Thank you. Be right back.”Vienna hurried across a crosswalk out to the aboveground parking lot located on the far side of the hospital grounds.

  “Wonderful girl,” Amos commented as his granddaughter disappeared from view. He turned to see if Georges was watching her.

  Not so much a girl as a woman, Georges thought. A woman who’d managed to set his world on its ear. “That she is.” “Do not know what I would do without her.” And the old man meant that from the bottom of his soul. It seemed ir
onic to him that somewhere along the line, the tables had gotten turned and the little girl he’d taken care of was now taking care of him. “But I would give her up to the right man,” Amos told him, still craning his neck so that he could study the face of the man standing behind him.

  Meaning me?Georges couldn’t help wondering what the old man would say if he knew about his reputation. At this point, he honestly didn’t know if he should follow his needs or go with his instincts. The latter told him to stop this before it got out of hand. Before he lost his heart to this woman and suffered the consequences.

  Before, that same voice mocked. Too late for that.

  Was this what his mother felt? Fear? Fear of being out on that limb, only to find himself abandoned. His mother left lovers before they could leave her. Years ago, he’d realized that it was because she was afraid of giving her heart to someone who would either abuse her love or break her heart in two. Despite all her fame, Lily Moreau had been through a great deal.

  He and his brothers generally agreed that Philippe’s father had been the love of her life, but he’d also been a hopeless gambler, far more enamored of Lady Luck than he was of Lily. He all but gambled away the very roof over their heads. Had she not taken drastic measures to save them, he would have. After that, she never put her faith or trust into one man, although she’d been twice tempted, with his own father and with Alain’s. But both marriages were tempestuous and relatively shortlived. No man was a match, it seemed, for the dynamic and larger-than-life Lily Moreau.

  Because there was no stability for him to use as a compass, Georges had picked his way through life much the way his mother had, enjoying the company of the opposite sex and then, when the threat of something more serious was in the offing, he would move on. Life had been free and easy with no strings, no pain hiding in the shadows, waiting to seize him when he least expected it.