The ambassador's dinner was crowded with the elegantly attired elite of Washington. Champagne and liquor were flowing freely under glittering chandeliers; the sound of false laughter was everywhere.
"You wouldn't be trying to give me the slip tonight, would you?"
Loren's stomach gave a disparaging flip, for she knew that the masculine tones stinging her ears were from the very man she was trying to avoid. She wheeled around and gave a silent gasp, hoping fervently that her rapidly beating heart wasn't apparent through her low-cut gown. Musical strains from the full orchestra filled the background and, before she could respond to the man, Loren found herself swept into his sturdy arms and onto the dance floor.
"You know, of course, that you stand out in a crowd, even in four hundred. Every man in the room is ogling you in that dress. The color exactly matches your eyes, and it exactly fits . . . everything." He held her loosely, watching her face for a reaction to his bold statement.
Loren blushed all the way down to the creamy swells of her breasts, hating herself for not being able to control her emotions any better. Her frustration sputtered out in a small explosion. "I should have worn a black sack."
"Ah, I would be able to spot you in anything, Loren. Those blue eyes can't be camouflaged." His smile radiated through her, and she warmed under his gaze. There was also that single intriguing dimple in one creased cheek.
"Neither can your intentions, Mr. Mecina!" Loren prayed she was disguising the erratic beat of her heart as his dark eyes created havoc with her self-control. Even her skin tingled under his velvet gaze.
He pressed her closer, bringing her taut breasts in slight contact with his shirt. She could feel the warmth from his chest reaching out to her. There was a certain strength, an energy, that drew them together, and it frightened Loren.
She was trying very hard to dislike Reid Mecina, yet was pulled in his direction by invisible cords.
"I hope you'll soon feel familiar enough to call me Reid. I want to dance only with you, get to know you, Loren." His voice softly massaged the air. "That's all. Is that so bad?"
Loren took a reluctant breath, fearing he would hear its raggedness. "All right. One dance then." It was an unnecessary consent, since they were already dancing, but she felt better having agreed.
Reid loosened the tension apparent in his arms and shifted her closer. Her breasts swelled against his chest as she relaxed in his arms. They finished the dance quietly, allowing the magic between them to develop naturally.
For Loren, it was a reluctant effort. Her reason told her to hold back, be heedful, and proceed with caution. And yet her instincts wanted to throw caution to the wind. Is that so bad? His words rang in her head. No, she mused. It felt very nice, indeed, to be in his arms. Oh, yes, Loren could feel the magic.
When the dance ended they reluctantly drew apart, the cool space between them fanning heated emotions. Reid's dark eyes sought hers, questioning. For a brief moment Loren thought he felt the same magical attraction she did, then decided that was silly. It was a romantic fantasy, suddenly racing through her imagination. The band struck up again, this time a country tune.
"Since I don't see your date for the evening, Loren, shall we try another dance? Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain is one of my favorites, but you don't often hear it from an orchestra's strings."
His arms were around her easily, quickly. Or had she floated there eagerly? Later, when she recalled the evening's events, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that they spent a good deal of the night in each other's arms.
"I have an admission," Loren offered, wondering why she was so eager to confess.
"What?"
"I don't have a date tonight."
His breath was warm on her ear. "I know."
"You do?" She drew back to look up at him.
"I did a little surveillance earlier this evening. You don't think I would risk encountering the outraged escort of such a gorgeous lady, do you?"
"After the way you behaved this last week, I wasn't sure what you would risk encountering," she answered.
"You are definitely worth the risk, Loren," he murmured against her ear. The velvety softness of his breath sent chills down her spine, and she longed to sink closer to him, to press against his hard chest. Of course, she did not. After all, they barely knew each other. Perhaps tonight would be a time for remedying that.
"I've never met a man so bold." Or one who makes me feel this way.
"I'm captivated by you, Loren Randolph. I've never seen eyes quite the color of yours. They're enchanting . . . and so are you." His voice was a hoarse whisper and wrapped around her as securely as his arms.
"You're a silver tongued devil." She laughed.
"Who's intrigued with you, Loren."
"A secret admirer?"
He nuzzled her ear ever so faintly. "You'll find that I don't work in secret. Nor do I admire in secret. I want you to know exactly where I stand."
"I... I think I do, Reid." His name felt strange on her tongue, even though she felt so familiar in his arms. So right. "Reid . . ." she repeated it again, just to hear the sound.
When the dance ended he asked, "Could I persuade you to abandon your seat with old fuddy-duddy Steiger and join me for dinner, Loren?"
She laughed spontaneously at his fitting description of Representative Steiger. "With an offer like that, how could I refuse?"
"Good. I have a table reserved for us in the back. If we're lucky, maybe no one will sit with us. I want you all to myself. There are a lot of things I'd like to know about you, Loren Randolph." His hand steered her to the table.
"There are many things I'd like to know about you, too, Reid. The first is, how on earth did you manage without your boots tonight?" She halted beside her chair and noted his shiny black shoes with a wry smile.
Reid's lips curled into a good-natured grin. "This is my monkey suit, reserved especially for these dressy Washington affairs. Believe me, young lady, if you weren't among the guests here tonight, I wouldn't be here either."
Loren eased gracefully into the chair and waited until he sat next to her at the large round table set for six. She, too, privately hoped no one joined them. "I see your father is here tonight, Reid. In fact, Senator Mecina is at the honored guests' table. Why aren’t you there?"
"I manage only my father's office and campaigns. I do not attend every function he does. I stopped being infatuated with all these beautiful people long ago."
"Why, to see you tonight, Reid, I thought you were one of them," Loren teased. She couldn't help admiring the way the tuxedo fit his lean form.
Reid nodded for the waiter to bring them wine. "Because my father has been in politics for as long as I can remember, I'm accustomed to these events. I can shoot the bull with any crowd, and I know which fork to use when there are more than one. But, I'll admit, I prefer to be in my jeans and boots."
"I can tell."
"Is it that obvious?"
"Oh, it's not that you look out of place. It's just that you have a casual, western look, like that jacket is in your way and you might be shedding it any minute."
He laughed aloud. "It has crossed my mind, but I won't embarrass you, Loren." He waited until the waiter had poured their wine, then lifted the crystal glass to toast Loren. "To a lovely lady."
"Thank you," she murmured. Their eyes met over the wineglasses, mesmerized by the silent magic weaving between them.
Finally, reluctantly, Loren initiated the conversation. "Tell me, what was it like to grow up in a political family in Arizona?"
He shrugged. "Just about like it was for you, I guess. Only my father was gone from home quite a bit. When he was there, life was chaotic, but fun. There were always people in and around our house. Some were guests, others there for business. Something always going on. When we didn't have a full house, we had invitations to just about everything that came to town. We always had tickets to the circus, ice show, ballgames, things that kids love. I finally outgrew the freebies and l
eft the social events to my father. Sometimes I went along to the political speeches to hand out brochures or simply to read the crowds. Later Dad and I discussed their reactions, moods, that sort of thing."
Loren laughed delightedly. "Yes, I've done those things for my father too." They had more in common than she thought. Somehow it was a small assurance.
They were joined by two other couples at the table, and Loren tried to mask her disappointment. She would have to share Reid. Still, she felt close to him tonight. Just the two of them, attuned only to each other, alone in a crowd of four hundred. During the course of dinner Reid enchanted them all with tales of living in Arizona. Loren listened, almost charmed, certainly intrigued. There was nothing to relate this engaging man to the menacing one who had followed her. By the end of dinner it didn't matter that he had made brash claims about making love to her. In fact, it was hard to believe Reid was that same arrogant man. Maybe she just didn't want to believe it.
Afterward they danced again. Loren floated in Reid's arms, her blue eyes meeting his in an unspoken agreement.
"How about coffee? Someplace private?"
She agreed, never doubting the prudence of going with him. "I know a wonderful little Bohemian spot in Georgetown."
"Great, I've been wanting to get you alone all night."
"We have been—" The words slipped out before she could stop them.
"You know, you're right." He held her, even though the music had stopped. Their eyes locked, and Loren knew he felt the magic, too, even if neither understood.
"There is so much more I want to know about you, Loren."
"There is so much I want to say . . ."
By the end of the evening, Loren Randolph trusted that Arizona man . . . and more. She was fascinated by him.
They rode around the beautifully lit tidal basin before crossing the bridge into Arlington County and home. Reid drove with precision to the cobblestone street and stopped in front of her narrow-doored brick town house. Why shouldn't he? He had been past the place often enough.
Loren turned her face upward, not feeling the chilling wind off the Potomac that whipped around them. The touch of his lips on hers filled her with an unquenched desire, unlike any she had ever experienced.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he promised.
"You'd better wear your grubbies if you do. Saturday is gardening day in Alexandria. It's an old tradition."
"In the middle of winter?" His breath was frosty. "What in the world are you doing? Planting bluebonnets?"
She blushed at the mention of his first promise. "Hardly! This is mostly clean up time, getting ready for spring flowers. A few crocuses have already poked up through the snow."
"I'll help you tomorrow on one condition," he proposed.
Loren looked up questioningly into his dark, shadowed face.
"That you'll go out to dinner with me tomorrow night. Someplace special . . . just the two of us."
Loren caught her breath. Even though she hardly knew him, she wanted to be with him. Perhaps dinner would be okay . . . just dinner.
"That would be nice."
The next day Reid appeared in well-worn jeans and an old sweater. They spent the warmest part of the day working in the tiny garden that nestled between Loren's tall brick town house and the identical one to the rear. They raked and bagged the winter debris of leaves and sticks; Loren mapped out a new flower bed; Reid turned the soil for her. When the wind began to whip down between the brick buildings and the afternoon sun was blocked from the small garden, they sat in Loren's cozy yellow kitchen, drinking hot spiced tea and nibbling anise cookies. It was as if they had settled in together.
Chapter Two
Loren opened the door that evening to a man who was clean shaven, his dark hair brushed back neatly, his navy, pin-stripe suit framing his broad shoulders precisely. Damn he was handsome. Loren smiled at the sight of him. She had never considered him handsome before—appealing, intriguing, darkly masculine—this man was all that and more. Well, he was still rugged and square-jawed, with lines running beside each cheek. She thought of that hidden dimple. Her eyes traveled down his length.
His voice was impatient. "Do I pass inspection, or must I stand out here and freeze?"
"No boots." Loren laughed, moving aside for him to enter. "You didn't wear your boots."
"Of course not." He closed the door behind him and cupped her face with both hands, kissing her nose lightly. "I don't want to embarrass my lovely Washington lady by appearing to be a boorish clod in cowboy boots. But I still feel naked without them."
She laughed, giddy with the closeness of him. "Your hands are cold."
"Sorry. See what a boorish clod I am? Think I can fake it tonight?" He moved his hands to her arms, which were covered with long sleeves of old lace and eyelet that allowed small patches of pinkish skin to show through. "Loren, you're beautiful. This dress . . . it's gorgeous, just like you."
"Do you like it?" she breathed, wishing he would take his hands off her so she could think straight.
He dropped his hands to his sides and stepped back, assessing her appearance. "It's unusual, old-fashioned. And you look lovely in it."
Slightly unnerved by his overwhelming presence and lavish compliments, Loren fingered the old lace. "This dress belonged to my grandmother. It's been in our family for years."
"My God," he grinned, revealing the dimple. "I'm escorting an heirloom tonight. Ready to go?"
She nodded and grabbed an intricately crocheted shawl. As his hands draped it across her shoulders, he asked, "Another treasure from your grandmother?"
"No," she answered as they glided out into the frosty night. "My elderly neighbor gave it to me. The one who made the anise cookies. She's originally from Germany and has fantastic skills that most modern women, including myself, never take time to master. Isn't it beautiful?"
"Ummm." He nodded, encircling her shoulders with his arm.
"She crochets these to sell, and I sometimes help her by getting orders from my friends. Her income is quite limited, and I try to help her whenever I can."
"Sounds like the two of you complement each other." He opened the heavy car door.
"I suppose we do," she agreed as she slid into the plush navy blue interior of the white Continental.
Reid covered the distance around the car quickly and sat close beside her. "I like to think we complement each other, too, Loren. You're elegant and lovely and smart. I'm rough and unpolished—"
She interrupted. "And bright and very interesting and . . ." His face was unnervingly close to hers.
"And attracted to you, Loren Randolph." His lips, warm and sweet, caressed hers gently, lingering to savor her honeyed taste.
In the brief moment of that tranquil kiss, Loren forgot everything around her. She was drawn to Reid's ardent warmth, the frigid air suddenly ceasing to chill. She immediately dismissed her personal policy to remain aloof to the men she dated, especially those from out-of-town. She disregarded the fears this man had engendered just yesterday when he faced her alone in the empty office. Loren knew only that she was physically, emotionally, wildly, attracted to this man who kissed her so gently, yet thoroughly. And she wanted this feeling to last forever.
"We'd better go," he breathed, moving reluctantly away from her willing lips. "Before we freeze."
"I'm not cold," she murmured before she thought.
His hand slipped under her thick tawny hair. "I know ... oh, God, Loren, don't tempt me so." He moved as if to kiss her again, then turned abruptly, started the car, and wheeled out onto the bumpy, cobblestone street.
Minutes later Reid pulled to a stop before a looming four-story brick-and-stone warehouse. "How about seafood?"
"Love it." She smiled happily. "And the Seaport Inn is one of my favorite places. The view over the Potomac is gorgeous."
"I don't know about the Potomac, but the view across the table will be gorgeous," he said as they ambled along a two hundred year old brick sidewalk.
/> "Do you like seafood too?" She gazed up expectantly.
"No, but I knew you did." He steered her to the narrow wooden stairs that creaked as they stepped up together.
She paused at the top. "How do you know so much about me?"
"I made it my business to find out. I told you, Loren Randolph, I'm terribly attracted to you." He smiled and touched her nose with his index finger, and Loren had the feeling—perhaps the private wish—that if they hadn't been in such a public place, he would have kissed her again.
The ancient heavily wooded shadowed interior probably enhanced the romantic mood of the evening. But they didn't notice. Loren and Reid were indifferent to the mysterious and dark waters of the Potomac, the symmetrical designs of city lights glittering across the river, an occasional foghorn. They had eyes and ears only for each other.
She leaned toward him as the waiter removed their soup bowls. "How could you waste it, Reid?"
His dark eyes flickered at her. "I, and the children in Arizona, would starve before we'd eat those floating things in our soup."
Loren feigned shock. "Oyster stew? Why, that's an East Coast mainstay."
"Maybe for you. But not this unrefined oaf." He paused while the waiter served their dinner. "How can a lovely señorita like yourself eat . . . that thing?"
Her blue eyes widened. "Don't you like lobster either?"
He plunged his knife into the juicy steak before him. "Only if it's disguised. Definitely not staring at me with those little beady eyes and its pincers poised."
Thus they spent the evening teasing, cajoling, and learning that in many ways they were not very much alike at all. But it simply endeared Reid to Loren all the more. She adored every minute. Reid was funny, interesting, and extremely western. And she loved being with him. They lingered over coffee, not saying very much, just enjoying the evening.
So it was no surprise to either of them when, at her front door, she asked him in. And he accepted. In the bluish shadows cast by the colored shade of the old Tiffany lamp Loren and Reid stood close, entranced with each other. Slowly his hands eased up her lacy sleeves, cupping her face, tilting it upward to his. Eagerly Loren complied, for she wanted to feel his kiss again, absorb his masculine heat, touch his beguiling face, search for that hidden dimple. Loren sank against Reid, and his kiss was as bewitching as she remembered, only stronger, more powerful, more wonderful. His gentle caress changed to a forceful, desire-filled entreaty as Reid's hands slid around her shoulders and down the length of her back, molding her ever closer to his lean muscled form. The softness of his lips was gone as he engulfed her mouth with his.
A Lasting Love Page 2