Once he felt suitably tired, Vaughn headed ashore. When he arrived, he found Miranda had spun around onto her back. Her beautiful round globes were jutting forward toward the sun, the chocolate nipples hardened enough for him to lick, and Vaughn stopped dead in his tracks.
As if sensing him, Miranda jerked upright. Neither of them spoke a word. They both seemed entranced as Vaughn looked at her face and then at her breasts and then back up again. Only then did Miranda clutch the magazine she’d been reading across her bare bosom. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t realize you’d returned. I was just...”
Vaughn shook his head. “No need to apologize, Miranda. This is a secluded beach and you’re my wife who just so happens to have the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever seen.”
Her cheeks flamed and he could see he’d embarrassed her. “It was a compliment.” She reached for her bikini top and fumbled trying to put it on while holding the magazine in place.
Vaughn walked over, kneeled beside her and took the strings from her trembling fingers. She securely held the top to her bosom while he tied the knot at her nape and her back. “Feel better now?” he whispered in her ear. Not that she could stop him from fantasizing and remembering how lush her breasts looked and how he’d tasted them once.
“Vaughn?”
“Hmm...?”
“I asked if you were ready to head back.”
“Oh yes of course,” he said. “Let’s do it.” They packed up the blanket, remaining food items and empty wine bottle and headed back to the boat. As they sailed away from the beach, Vaughn wondered just how long Miranda was going to continue this farce because it was just a matter of when they became lovers, not if.
Chapter 9
One day seamlessly rolled into another. Miranda found a real estate agent to search for the perfect property in Malibu for her bed-and-breakfast. Meanwhile, she started working on her business plan. Although she’d be using a portion of her inheritance to start the bed-and-breakfast, she planned on getting bank financing for the rest. As she’d told Vaughn, she wanted to help those less fortunate just like Prescott George.
When they weren’t at work, they were at the beach. Vaughn was clearly in love with the sea. “Now that I’ve initiated you into sunbathing topless, I think it’s only fair you learn how to water-ski and windsurf,” he told her that weekend.
“I don’t much like water sports.”
“That’s because you’re afraid,” Vaughn said. “I will teach you how not to be.”
Much to her chagrin, Vaughn didn’t drop the subject and over the course of the next week, she found him to be a remarkably patient teacher. He would pick her up in his Porsche and take her to the beach. She couldn’t help the leap of excitement that surged through her tummy at spending time alone with him. She’d come to trust Vaughn because he would never let anything happen to her.
She wasn’t the best swimmer, but Vaughn seemed determined her fledging skills would improve. And under his careful guidance, she did. He had boards set up for their use. A brand-new shiny one with lots of flowers on it and a black one that looked worn and used. He made sure to show her how to wax the surfboard and paddle on her stomach until she was comfortable in the aqua blue waters of the Pacific. Miranda liked that Vaughn was sharing this part of himself with her. With a man as brilliant and powerful as he was, surfing was a way for him to relax and get away from the pressures of life. And he was giving her insight into his happy place.
Of course, there were spills and wipe-outs, but eventually she became more confident in her swimming. Consequently, Vaughn got her to attempt water-skiing and windsurfing. She didn’t much like being behind the speedboat but with Vaughn at her side, giving her verbal cues and smiles, she found herself improving. She was no master. Not by a long shot, but thanks to Vaughn, she’d become carefree and was making discoveries all the time about what she was and was not capable of doing.
A couple of days later, as Miranda was knee-deep in facts and figures, Vaughn came in the house to find her working at the dining room table on Friday afternoon. He’d told her that she could change one of the spare bedrooms into an office, but Miranda had been hesitant to make any sweeping changes to the house because she knew she was only a temporary occupant. But that didn’t stop her from wondering: What if things were different?
What if they had a real marriage? A marriage that had nothing to do with money or wills. A marriage that had only to do with the two of them loving each other. With a man like Vaughn, Miranda knew it was possible, but she couldn’t allow herself to go there. What purpose would it serve? She’d already made her bed and now she had to lie in it.
“Ready to take a break?” he asked.
She looked up and saw that he was dressed like he’d just come from the office, in tailored slacks and black button-down shirt. It never ceased to amaze her the effect he had on her with his broad shoulders and powerful build. Her skin tingled and a fire burned from the inside out just from his strong, male presence.
“Yes, I’d love one. What did you have in mind?” She didn’t care if he was cooking for her or they were going out to eat, because whenever she was in Vaughn’s company she had a good time, felt giddy even. And she hadn’t felt this way about any of the man she’d met before. In comparison, they’d been schoolgirl crushes to what she felt when she was around Vaughn.
When she was with Vaughn, she felt like a woman. A woman who was quickly becoming unnerved just by being near him. He commanded her attention and more and more was bending her to his will. Forcing her to see that there was no way she could continue being celibate in this marriage, with this man.
Her man.
“Miranda?”
“Yes?”
“I’m taking my wife out for an exclusive dinner.” From behind his back, he pulled out a large wrapped gift box. “Something special for you to wear tonight. So head upstairs to get dressed and I’ll meet you down here in a half hour.”
That didn’t give Miranda a whole lot of time, but she didn’t care. She wanted to spend time with Vaughn. He had a way of putting her at ease. From the way he talked to her. Looked at her. Even smiled at her. From the beginning, he’d made her feel special. After her past heartaches, she’d told herself that she didn’t need anyone anymore.
But she was starting to need Vaughn.
Miranda excitedly tore the wrapping paper off the box and pulled out a beautiful beaded spaghetti slip dress with a plunging bodice that was sure to show the swell of her breasts and an empire waist before shirring outward. She couldn’t wait to put it on. She showered with a fragrant body wash and toweled herself dry. Then added the matching lotion that held a hint of sheen to give her skin a burnished glow. She wrapped the towel around her bosom while she added a touch of powder to her face, sooty mascara to her lashes and peach lip gloss to her lips. She wanted to look beautiful, yet natural. Tossing the towel aside, Miranda eased into the dress, foregoing a bra. The dress had built-in support, so she wouldn’t need it.
It was a perfect fit and would show plenty of leg due to the strappy sandals that had been included in the box along with a beaded cocktail purse. She spritzed perfume at her wrists, earlobes and at her bosom. Then she looked at the woman standing in the mirror. It was her alright, but there was something else. Her eyes were bright. Excitement was coursing through them at the idea of spending the night with her thoughtful husband.
She found him downstairs waiting for her in a black dinner jacket, crisp white shirt opened at the nape and tailored trousers. He looked every bit the Millionaire Mogul the ladies of San Diego lusted after and she was one of them. She wanted her husband.
* * *
Miranda was a sight for sore eyes, Vaughn thought as she walked toward him. She looked hot in the dress he’d chosen for her as he’d known she would. He held his hand out to her and she came willingly. “You look stunning.”
She fl
ushed and color stained her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“You ready to go?”
“Yes, but where are we going?” she inquired as he walked her toward the door.
“A restaurant, but I don’t believe it has a name.”
The drive to the restaurant was a half-hour drive from La Jolla so Vaughn caught up with Miranda on her day and she informed him on how progress with her bed-and-breakfast was going. He liked that she opened up to him. That over the last couple of weeks, they’d grown closer, talking late into the night. He liked that she could give him a look from across the room and he could tell what she was thinking, feeling.
Miranda wasn’t able to hide her feelings from him which was why he knew that tonight something had changed. He’d sensed it the moment she’d come downstairs looking like an angel.
His angel.
It was in her eyes that she’d made a decision. He hoped it was what they’d been working toward the last couple of weeks. Trust in each other. He knew it wasn’t easy for her given the men who’d hurt her in the past, but he wasn’t those men. He’d never hurt Miranda and wanted a clean slate. And tonight after many long sleepless nights, it seemed she just might be able to give him one.
They arrived at an estate a short while later. Vaughn pressed the window down and, after speaking into the buzzer, the black iron gates parted and he drove up a short winding path to a two-story house on a high cliff overlooking the ocean.
Miranda turned to him with a puzzled expression. “This doesn’t look like a restaurant. It’s someone’s home. What’s going on?”
Vaughn grinned as he turned off the engine. “It’s a surprise.” He walked around to the passenger side and helped Miranda out of the car. He encircled his arm around hers and led her to the entrance. He pressed the doorbell and a uniformed butler greeted them at the door.
“Mr. and Mrs. Ellicott, please come in.”
Miranda gave him a questioning sideward glance, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she allowed the butler and Vaughn to lead her to the great room where several other couples were already in attendance.
“Vaughn!” A Frenchman in a white chef coat came toward him. “So glad you and your wife could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss one of your dinner parties,” Vaughn said. “Chef Jean, this is my beautiful wife, Miranda.”
“Elle est belle!” Chef Jean lowered his head to kiss the back of Miranda’s hand. “She is lovely, Vaughn. You are a lucky man.”
“Don’t I know it?”
Chef Jean walked them around the room, introducing his A-list of guests: a Hollywood super couple whose new movie was making millions at the box office; a Senatorial hopeful from an old money family hoping he was a shoo-in; then he saw contemporary artist Jordan Jace and his woman of the week. The man was known for loving and leaving them. Six feet two, Jordan was long-limbed with a slender frame and his signature goatee. In his usual hipster style, he was wearing jeans, a vintage tee and a blazer.
“Jordan Jace, I’d like you to meet my wife. Miranda, I’d like you to meet Jordan Jace. Jordan is a fellow board member of Prescott George, albeit a reluctant one, isn’t that right?”
“Your wife?” Jordan stared back at Vaughn like he was crazy.
“Yes, that’s right. Perhaps if you’d come to meetings once in a while you’d know that.”
“Couldn’t be helped,” Jordan responded evenly and turned to Miranda. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I can’t believe you ensnared San Diego’s most eligible bachelor and brought Vaughn to his knees.”
* * *
Miranda stared in awe at both men. She had no idea that Vaughn rubbed elbows with such rich and famous people, especially an artist of Jordan’s caliber. She’d been following his rise to fame the last several years. He was brilliant. Miranda was completely out of her element, but managed to answer Jordan. “I don’t think anyone can ensnare Vaughn unless he wants to be.” She turned to her husband at her side. “Isn’t that right, darling?”
“Of course, my love.” Vaughn placed a kiss on her forehead.
“Well, then, I’m sorry I missed the love story and the wedding,” Jordan responded. “Do tell.” He grabbed Miranda’s arm and led her away from Vaughn, much to his chagrin.
Miranda was amused. Jordan was quite funny and she didn’t mind his outgoing nature. He spoke his mind and she appreciated that.
“How did you meet Vaughn?”
“At the beach.”
Jordan rolled his eyes. “Of course, what was I thinking? And was it love at first sight?”
Lust was more like it, but Miranda chuckled. “Yes, something like that.” Or at least that was the spin they were telling everyone.
“Considering Vaughn’s reputation with the ladies, it’s great that you can put that aside and focus on your relationship.”
“Were there that many?” Miranda inquired. From her research she’d seen that he dated, but he’d been a single man after all. She had no right to get jealous about women he had been with before her. Their marriage was fake, but if she was honest Miranda wanted Vaughn solely focused on her.
“It’s not for me to say—” Jordan touched his chest “—but you should know that he gets around, but then again so do I.”
As if he was thinking about her, Vaughn motioned her away from Jordan and over to the couple he was speaking with. He didn’t look particularly pleased when he handed her a glass of champagne, but he didn’t say anything. He kept his arm firmly around her while the group chatted for much of the cocktail hour while eating the sumptuous feast Chef Jean had laid out. There was a raw bar with oysters, crab claws, large prawns and an imported cheese station for guests to enjoy at their leisure. Uniformed waiters served hot hors d’oeuvres of lobster and shrimp empanadas, citrus-marinated bacon-wrapped scallops, mini beef Wellingtons with béarnaise sauce and fig and goat cheese flatbreads. They indulged in all the yummy food and Vaughn made sure to hold her hand on the way to the formal dining room.
To ease the tension between them, she said, “Jordan is an interesting character.”
“Yeah, he is,” Vaughn replied as they walked into the grand room. “He was one of the newer members to Prescott George and not easily led.”
“I can see that. He dances to the beat of his own drum.”
“Yes, he does.”
She noted the note of derision in Vaughn’s tone. “He’s an artist.”
“That may be so, but he has a role in the organization same as us. I just wish he was as passionate as the rest of us.”
“Try getting to know him. You might be surprised how he opens up.”
Vaughn turned to stare at her. “You might be right.”
He helped her into the seat which held a place card with her name and moved to sit across from her. Several times throughout the night Miranda caught Vaughn staring at her from across the table. She was sure Chef Jean had strategically sat them as newlyweds away from each other to ensure they mingled with the other guests. Miranda found herself next to Jordan and he was great company. He was funny and outgoing.
“I find it hard to believe that Vaughn was able to keep you under wraps for so long,” Jordan said from her side when the first course of the four-course dinner menu came out.
She laughed. “It’s not like he had me locked up in a tower.” She sipped on the signature wine pairing that came with the course.
“True, but Vaughn has always been a straight shooter, the sort of guy that what you see is what you get. Who knew he was so mysterious?” Jordan wondered aloud.
Miranda had to admit he was right. At first blush, you might think Vaughn was a surfer dude or that he might be a straight and narrow military guy, but you’d be wrong. Yes, he was disciplined when it came to his work ethic and Prescott George. He had no time for foolishness, but then he was easygoing and carefree when he was on the water. She loved
watching him surf and become one with the sea, soaring through the water. She doubted she’d ever be as good a surfer as he was no matter how much he tried to teach her.
“He’s not the only mysterious man in the room.” Miranda turned the tables. “What makes an eccentric artist such as yourself join an organization like Prescott George?”
“I haven’t been a member long.”
“Why become a member at all?”
“My father’s a member in London and my family hasn’t necessarily championed my career despite my success, so I was throwing them a bone, if you will,” he said with a grin.
“That’s very generous of you, but something tells me you’re only humoring them.”
Jordan shrugged. “What can I say?”
As each course was served, Miranda found it difficult to focus because every time she glanced up she found Vaughn’s eyes on her following her every move. To cover her nervousness, Miranda indulged in each new wine that was offered.
“You both are so sweet, you’re giving me a toothache,” Jordan commented from her side when he caught their furtive glances. “It’s clear how besotted you both are.”
Besotted?
Miranda knew that her feelings for Vaughn had blossomed from like to lust and more. She was falling for the handsome surfer and apparently it was evident to everyone in the room because Jordan wasn’t the only one who mentioned it.
“I remember what it was like to be in love,” Chef Jean commented during the third course and looked over at his partner of fifteen years.
Miranda had blushed, but Vaughn hadn’t. He’d seemed proud that she was the woman on his arm. She’d never felt this secure in her previous relationships. Was it because Vaughn didn’t want anything from her, but her? What would it be like if she allowed herself to give in to the simmering passion between them? Would she survive it?
A lump formed in Miranda’s throat as she nervously looked over at Vaughn while dessert was served. It was a spread of small bites that melted in your mouth, but Miranda could hardly taste it. How could she when Vaughn wasn’t hiding the naked hunger in his eyes every time those gorgeous dark brown eyes peered at her. But did he smile like that at every woman? Jordan had mentioned Vaughn’s reputation and so had Sasha.
His San Diego Sweetheart Page 11