by BETH KERY
“What?” she asked, turning and lifting her face upward, her lips seeking him like a hardwired instinct.
“I’m getting a little tired of having to interpret what you want, Alice. So tell me you want to shower with me, and you will,” he told her quietly, his lips brushing hers.
Alice opened her mouth to do just that, but hesitated at the last second. Their fierce, sweet sexual exchanges out at the stables and Dylan’s enigmatic but powerful declaration in the car just now had left her overwhelmed. She could use a little space from him, to gather her thoughts, to solidify a willpower that always turned to melted goo in his presence.
“Well, you’ve already gotten the rooms.” He kissed her on the mouth softly. “And Deanna did say she’d bring the dress to the room she gave me,” Alice back-pedaled lamely.
“Fine,” Dylan said as he kissed her one more time, this time dipping his tongue between her lips in a fleeting, electrifying caress. Her sex prickled. He stepped back. “I’ll see you out on the terrace at eight thirty?”
“All right,” Alice agreed.
She hastened to her room, feeling some strange combination of anticipation, doubtful triumph, and breathless pleasure from Dylan’s kiss.
ALICE had finished her shower and was laying out some of her new cosmetics when she heard a soft tap on the door. She rushed through the suite, which seemed obscenely large and luxurious when its sole purpose for the night was for Alice to shower and put on a dress. Deanna stood in the hallway, holding the garment bag.
“Your dress looks perfect. It’s unbelievable, by the way. May I come in and hang it for you?” Deanna asked.
“Sure,” Alice said, because she sensed it would be rude to say the obvious. I’m capable of hanging a dress in the closet, thank you.
Deanna hurried into the room and opened the closet door near the bathroom. Quickly and efficiently, she removed the dress from the bag and hung it on the hook on the inside door over a mirror. She studied the garment closely, using her hand to smooth the flowing fabric.
“Beautiful. You’re going to be a knockout in that dress.” Deanna set the garment bag down on a dresser in the large closet and turned to Alice. Her gaze caught on the opened door to the bathroom and she did a double take. “You use Dior cosmetics?” Alice realized she’d seen her new makeup kit opened on the vanity. “That’s a great line of makeup. I have some of the eye shadows, and they’re amazing,” Deanna said as she walked toward Alice. Not for the first time since meeting her, Alice studied the older woman’s pretty brown eyes and her subtle, skillful makeup application.
“I just got that makeup,” Alice admitted awkwardly. Deanna was too elegant and polite to ever show an ounce of nosiness in regard to the nature of Alice’s relationship to Dylan, but she knew the polished woman wasn’t stupid. Dylan had ordered a romantic lakeside dinner for two and hadn’t bothered to hide the nature of their relationship from Deanna, despite the separate rooms. Deanna must suspect Alice herself could never have afforded that silk dress or the luxurious makeup. “It was a gift. The truth is … I never usually wear eye shadow.”
“You should, with those eyes,” Deanna stated unequivocally.
“Thanks,” Alice murmured. “I’ll give it my best shot.”
Deanna tilted her head, smiling. “I don’t suppose you’d let me do your makeup? Before I went to work in human resources at Durand, I worked at a cosmetics counter in a department store during summer breaks from college. I used to love it.”
“That must be why your makeup is so good,” Alice said.
“Thanks. I kind of miss it, to be honest. Well?” Deanna asked mischievously, tilting her head toward the bathroom. “Will you let me experiment on you?”
Alice hesitated. “That’s okay, I’m sure you’re busy.”
“Come on,” Deanna grinned gamely. “With your face, that gorgeous skin, and that dream makeup kit in there? I’ll be in seventh heaven.”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh my gosh, I’ll be like a kid in a candy store,” Deanna insisted, coming and taking Alice’s hand. She led her to the bathroom. “Now you just sit down right there,” she said, urging Alice to one of two stools pulled up before a large vanity. She spun Alice so that she faced away from the large mirror and began scrutinizing the contents of the makeup kit on the counter. She picked up a small tub of powder and selected a brush.
“Okay, let’s make some magic.”
Alice was wary and bemused at first, but soon relaxed under the influence of Deanna’s warm banter. Watching the older woman, she grew fascinated. She liked observing Deanna’s graceful hands as she wielded wands, brushes, and blending sponges so expertly. She’d never really had anyone dote on her before, or touch her with soft warm fingertips.
Like a mother would fuss over a daughter.
Besides, Alice could understand why Deanna had gone into the hospitality business. She was very easy to talk to. Topics that could be potentially uncomfortable—such as Alice’s relationship with Dylan Fall, or how they knew one another—just never seemed to come up. Alice understood it wasn’t because Deanna was stupid, but just the opposite. Deanna skillfully and subtly wove their conversation, avoiding uncomfortable topics.
“Do you ever miss working at Durand?” Alice wondered as Deanna blended her blush with a silky soft brush.
“Once in a while. Not enough to want to ever go back. I love being my own boss.”
A thought occurred to Alice. “You worked in human resources, right? I don’t suppose Sebastian Kehoe was there when you were there?”
“Of course. Kehoe has been at Durand for ages. He’s the top man in human resources globally. He had his thirtieth anniversary at Durand just before I left, and that was over three years ago,” Deanna said as she exchanged some powder for some eye shadow. “Eyelids closed, please.”
Deanna began applying the shadow. “He doesn’t really look old enough to have been there that long,” Alice mused.
“Kehoe? He’s held up well, but he’s probably fifty-seven, fifty-eight? He rose up the ranks at a young age and has held mighty sway ever since. Of course, he’s an exercise- and health-aholic. Completely rigid about his daily routine. No,” Deanna said firmly as she transferred her attentions to Alice’s other eyelid. “I definitely don’t miss having a boss.”
Perhaps Deanna hadn’t intended to allow the wry, sharp edge into her tone, because she fluidly changed the subject as she picked up some mascara.
“Look down at the floor,” she directed. “Did Mr. Fall tell you that Twelve Oaks and Castle Durand were designed by the same man?” she asked as she whisked the mascara wand over Alice’s lashes.
“Yes. Twelve Oaks is like a miniature version of it, almost,” Alice said.
“Alike in nearly every way. Okay, look up now,” Deanna said with the air of someone concentrating on a task. “The castle and Twelve Oaks are alike down to the crown moldings, the type of marble used for the fireplaces and secret cubbyholes.”
“You’ve been to the castle before?” Alice asked.
“I have,” Deanna said as she began applying the mascara to Alice’s other eye. She straightened after a moment and picked up a tube of lipstick. “I wasn’t a Camp Durand manager,” she said, referring to the class of elite managers culled from the Camp Durand experience. “But I was invited to the castle for a human resources retreat when Mr. Fall first took residence there. He knew my husband and I had bought Twelve Oaks and about the houses’ common history, so he was kind enough to let me explore to my heart’s content. Okay, blot,” she directed as she held a tissue up to Alice’s lips. Alice was confused at first, but then pressed her lips gently to the tissue to mute the cosmetic.
“All finished,” Deanna said with an air of satisfaction as she regarded Alice. She spun her on the stool.
Alice stared into the mirror. She blinked, her brow crinkling slightly in confusion. Who was that woman? Her skin looked flawless and glowing, her lips pouting and sensual, the rich berry color mak
ing them appear as full and ripe as summer fruit.
And her eyes. Alice was stunned. She’d had no idea that they were so large, or that rich brown and subtle peach shadows could make the midnight-blue shade of the irises so stunning by contrast. Everything Deanna had done with the cosmetics had been to subtly accentuate her features, to highlight them.
While all Alice had ever used cosmetics for was to obfuscate.
“You’re beautiful,” Deanna said smugly. “Absolutely gorgeous.” She picked up a comb from the vanity and brushed back Alice’s short hair behind her ears. It’d almost dried since her shower. When Alice combed her hair in a similar manner, it looked merely convenient and shorts-and-T-shirt-ready. When Deanna did it, she looked polished and sophisticated.
Her. Alice.
“You’re naturally a redhead, aren’t you?”
Alice blinked in surprise at Deanna’s question. She peered closer in the mirror. “Can you see my roots?”
“No, it’s not that. They aren’t too bad. It’s your eyebrows. I see you have an eyebrow pencil there. Would you like me to darken your brows?” Deanna asked matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, okay.”
“It’s a unique color,” Deanna murmured a moment later as she brushed the pencil over Alice’s brow. “Eyebrows are usually darker than the hair on your head. Are you a light auburn?”
“Yeah, reddish blond, maybe. I don’t really know anymore. It hasn’t been that color in a long time, and I’m not sure what it’d look like if it ever grew out completely. Maybe it’s darkened,” she confessed uncomfortably.
Alice saw the concerned question in Deanna’s kind eyes in the reflection in the mirror. But then she noticed Alice’s attention, and she smiled, quashing her curiosity.
“How about if I help you with your dress?” Deanna enthused, stepping back.
“This has all been so nice of you. Thank you. But you really don’t have to—”
Deanna pulled a humorous, fake-wounded expression. “After all I’ve done, you’re aren’t going to let me see the grand result?”
Alice laughed. “If you really want to,” Alice said dubiously.
“I do. I haven’t had a project this rewarding in a while. I can’t wait to see Mr. Fall’s expression when he gets an eyeful of you.”
SIXTEEN
Alice looked around the outdoor terrace admiringly. Deanna and her staff had turned it into a romantic dream setting, including a candlelit table, set with low bowls of white hydrangeas, crystal goblets, and white and silver china. She noticed a waist-high machine near the table, and realized as she stepped closer that it was an air cooler. It worked, because the temperature felt comfortable next to her exposed arms and back, despite the warm summer night. Soft music was being piped onto the terrace, too, subtle notes drifting about on the gentle breeze. A metal frame had been set up around the lovely table, and white linen curtains had been attached. Each of the curtains had been caught back to the frame to grant a full view of the sun beginning to descend into the pale blue Great Lake.
Dylan didn’t see her as she approached because of one obscuring curtain. He stood outside of the metal structure. She could just make out his dark pant legs and his forearm resting on the balustrade. He wore a black suit and held a highball glass in one hand.
Alice approached the opening between the swooping curtains and paused. She opened her mouth to speak, but an uncustomary feeling of shyness swept through her, silencing her tongue. She felt beautiful in her new clothing, but also foolish, like the chamber-maid parading around in her employer’s finery.
Dylan looked over his shoulder, perhaps sensing her there. His expression stiffened. At first he didn’t move his body. Only his gaze descended slowly over her, lingering on her breasts. Her nipples tightened. Because of the cut of the dress and the open back, she couldn’t wear a bra with it. His stare lowered and then trailed up to her face again, taking his time.
He turned slowly, and she saw that he looked devastating in a black suit, white shirt, and thin black tie.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asked, her voice sounding congested with anxiety.
“What should I say?”
Alice exhaled, feeling a little let down by his flat reply. A trace of something—was it dissatisfaction?—flickered across his bold features. He stepped toward her, coming within several inches of her. She looked up at him uncertainly.
“I just meant that words don’t suffice. You’re a vision.”
A smile curved her lips as heat curled in her lower belly. “Deanna helped me,” she admitted, her gaze skittering away, as if his stare was too scorching to remain locked with it for long. “With my makeup and making sure the dress was on right and everything.”
“It’s most definitely on right,” he said, peering down at her. “I’ll have to remember to thank Deanna personally,” he murmured. He ran one forefinger softly beneath her chin and she looked up.
“This is the real you, Alice.”
She blinked. “If this is the real me, then why do I feel like such a fake?” she asked him. His smile was a sexual caress.
“Maybe the real you is a lot bigger than you thought. You just need time, to familiarize yourself with all the parts.” His head dipped. Her breath hitched. “To discover all the mysteries,” he added quietly.
His mouth brushed very gently against hers. Alice’s eyes fluttered closed. The moment felt sublime. The setting sun was warm on her cheek, the waves hitting the shore below sounding like a soughing sigh.
Dylan was right. Some things were mysteries. And maybe sometimes, you just had to accept the beauty of the unfolding moment. Because if you did what Alice usually did—doubt, question, and refuse to trust—if you grasped too hard to understand, you risked rupturing that fragile, ephemeral reality.
DINNER with Dylan was a feast for the senses, every bite of the exquisitely prepared meal a delight, each sip of the cool, dry champagne elevating her euphoric mood. But the man seated across the table from her was the vision on which she feasted most. She couldn’t get enough of him, so devastatingly handsome in his suit, his lustrous dark eyes capturing the candlelight as the sun slowly faded. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her, either, and that had only added to the intoxication of the night. He found her beautiful. Desirable.
Special.
Alice had never come closer to accepting that unlikely reality as she did on that sunset-gilded terrace.
“Would you like more of the cake?” Dylan asked her, and Alice glanced up sharply, hearing the humor and fondness in his deep voice. Night had fallen. Candlelight didn’t soften his bold features, but it did make them all that much more compelling. The five-course meal had been incredible, but still she’d found room for dessert—a delectable chocolate molten lava cake. She guiltily stuck her forefinger in her mouth, licking away the last evidence of her greed.
“Sorry,” she murmured, realizing she’d been highly focused on her cake for the past few minutes. Meanwhile, Dylan hadn’t touched his. He sat back in his chair, a cup of coffee steaming in front of him, watching her while she stuffed her face. “I sort of have a thing for chocolate,” she admitted.
“I noticed.”
Alice set down her silver fork with a clinking sound. Dylan’s smile widened.
“Don’t take offense because I noticed. Most men would notice you eating chocolate. And not just that example, either,” he said, nodding at her spotless plate. “When you came to the house with the others on that first night, you ate all of your chocolate cheesecake in addition to the serving belonging to that young woman sitting next to you. You flattened that package of Jingdots the other night in seconds.”
“You noticed that?” Alice asked with amazed embarrassment. He’d taken note of her eating habits, even that first night at the castle?
Dylan smiled and poured a dollop of cream into his coffee. She watched him stir it with a silver spoon, entranced by the sensuality of his movements. He picked up the cup. “I notice a
lot of things about you,” he said before he took a sip. “And there’s no reason to ever apologize for liking your dessert. I liked watching you eat it.” Her eyebrows arched in surprised curiosity. “A lot,” he added significantly.
Alice laughed softly, warmth suffusing her when he joined her.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked after their laughter quieted.
Her mirth evaporated. She shook her head resolutely. “I don’t dance.”
“You said you didn’t ride, either.”
“I’m not sure I’d call what we did today riding,” she mumbled dubiously.
He looked amused, but determined. He stood and put out his hand for her. Alice sighed and reached for him.
“It’s not just that I can’t dance,” she explained when he took her into his arms a moment later and the music swirled around them. “It’s these shoes. I’m not used to wearing heels,” she explained, looking down at her feet as she began to move with Dylan’s body.
“Alice. Look at me, not your feet,” he ordered.
She did. His dark eyes shone in the candlelight. His brows quirked into a sardonic, knowing expression.
“There. I told you we move well together.”
She realized she’d been gliding in smooth harmony with his body, too enraptured by his eyes to worry about her stumbling feet. The tips of her breasts tingled as they skimmed against his lapel and jacket. She wanted to press closer to his long, hard length. She relished the teasing brush of their clothing, too, however, the elusive hint of his body just as potent as her craving to crush against him greedily.
“I think you take advantage of how attracted I am to you,” she said.
His brows went up. “To what end, do you suppose?”
“To get me to do all sorts of things I normally would refuse to do.”