“Did Richard Dreyfuss find the blonde?”
“Not yet.”
Daniel tore open the bag of pretzels and settled back into the couch.
Amanda sighed with contentment. She’d hated the party. Hated to admit it, but she hated her first teenage A-list party.
This was so much better, lounging on comfortable furniture, watching a funny movie, laughing and talking with Daniel and sipping on a beverage that didn’t taste like orange-flavored gasoline.
She reached for a pretzel.
So much better to eat food she was positive nobody’d used as a missile.
By the time Richard Dreyfuss’s character flew off in an airplane, Amanda had kicked off her shoes and the champagne bottle was half-empty.
“He never even got to meet her,” Daniel complained.
They’d both editorialized throughout the movie, sharing surprise, suspense and laughter.
Amanda raised her glass. “She will forever remain the mystery woman.”
“That sucks.”
“It’s fiction.”
“It still sucks.”
She laughed.
Daniel set down his glass. “A guy shouldn’t let opportunities like that go by.”
“Kiss ye blond bombshells while ye may?”
“Something like that.”
She gathered the remains of their impromptu picnic and padded barefoot over to the bar, the carpet soft against her feet. “We should probably get back to the party,” she offered reluctantly.
He stood up behind her, the glasses clinking together as he lifted them from the table. “I guess we should. We never did find the ice bucket.”
“I have a feeling nobody’s going to notice missing ice at this point.” She turned around and came face-to-face with him, or rather face-to-chest, since he was a good six inches taller now that she wasn’t wearing shoes.
He reached around her and set the glasses on the bar. “Not if they kept drinking that punch, they won’t.”
She shuddered again at the memory.
“Amanda?” His voice sounded unnaturally low.
She tipped up her chin to look at him. “Yes?”
He cocked his head sideways, and she was suddenly aware of a shift in the atmosphere.
“I was thinking,” he said, moving almost imperceptibly closer.
His closeness should have made her feel crowded, but it didn’t. His shoulders were broad. His chest was deep. And he towered over her, but she didn’t feel the least bit intimidated.
She drew in a breath and smelled his spicy, masculine scent. “Thinking about what?”
“Missed opportunities.” He smoothed a wisp of hair that had escaped near her temple.
She was pretty sure she wasn’t misunderstanding his signals. But the thought of Daniel Elliott coming on to her was so far out in left field.
“You mean, the movie?” she asked.
“I mean graduation.”
Confused, she squinted at him.
“We might never see each other again,” he said.
“We might not,” she agreed. Their paths barely crossed in the same school, never mind when she was at NYU and he was globe-trotting in search of exciting magazine stories.
“So…” he breathed.
“So?” she returned.
“What do we do about that?”
She watched his eyes darken, his smile fade, his lips part.
“Daniel?”
“It’s now or never, Amanda.” He smoothed his palm over her cheek, ever so slowly, giving her time to adjust to the change of mood, plenty of time to protest.
He twined his fingers into her hair, stroking her scalp. “I’m about to kiss you,” he rasped.
“I know,” she whispered, longing for his kiss.
It was perfect. It was right. Somehow she knew, intellectually, emotionally, cosmically, that this kiss at this moment was absolutely meant to be.
His lips touched hers. Firm, then tender, then moist, then hot.
She wound her arms around his neck, answering his pressure, parting her lips and tilting her head to deepen the kiss. Desire surged up inside her. She went hot, then cold, then hot all over again.
It was Daniel—Daniel Elliott—kissing her, holding her. His scent mingled with flowers. His taste overpowered the chocolate and champagne. Her skin prickled and her blood sang. She’d never felt remotely like this before.
Sparks of desire shot through her. She’d kissed boys before, but never like this, never where their touch took control of her body and soul.
She wanted it harder. She wanted it deeper. She parted her lips, inviting him in.
His tongue invaded her mouth, and she nearly whimpered with the pleasure.
His free arm circled her waist, settling across the small of her back, anchoring her firmly against his hardening body.
Yes. Closer, tighter. She wound her arms around his neck, pressing against him, tilting her head to deepen the kiss.
An ocean roared in her ears, and her hands clenched convulsively against him. The kiss went on and on. He swirled his tongue through her tender mouth. She opened wider, answering him back.
A sound emerged from deep in his chest as he arched her backward, over the bar. One strong hand traveled up her spine, traversing to settle on her rib cage, thumb barely brushing the underside of her breast. She felt her nipples tighten, sparks of pleasure shooting through her.
She wished he’d touch her, but she was too afraid to ask.
Then his other hand stroked down her neck. She tensed. She waited. And then his fingertips moved to her breast. She all but bucked under the intense sensation.
“Amanda,” he rasped.
Her breath came in pants and she slid her palms up his chest, slipping beneath his suit jacket, working her way to the heat of his back and pressing her breasts harder into his hands. Her world contracted to him and her.
No wonder her friends got so carried away. No wonder they made love with their boyfriends in the back seats of cars and beneath the stadium bleachers. At the moment, she couldn’t have cared less where they were.
A pounding need echoed in her brain and blotted out time, space and reason.
“Daniel.” Her voice turned his name into a plea.
“This is—” He kissed her again and his hands burned through her silk halter dress. His thumb circled her hardened nipple, shooting sparks to the core of her being. She never knew such sensations existed.
Gone was modesty. Gone was shyness. She wanted Daniel with every single fiber of her being. Wanted him in a way she’d never wanted anybody ever before.
He moved to her neck, kissing her roughly, fiercely, abrading her tender skin with delicious furor.
She tipped her head back to give him better access. Her breath hissed through her teeth, and she tightened her grip on his back. His jacket had to go. She wanted to touch his skin, to feel his fire.
He kissed her shoulder. His lips moved to the hollow between her breasts, and she moaned in wanting. His hands went to the halter tie at the back of her neck.
“Tell me to stop,” he demanded, even as he worked the knot. He breathed her in, his hot tongue flicking out to taste her skin.
“Don’t stop,” she said, breathless with need. “Don’t stop.” Electricity pulsed at the apex of her thighs, making her nearly desperate to assuage the burning need.
“Amanda,” he groaned. The bow came free, and the slinky fabric slipped down to her waist.
Daniel drew back, his gaze fixed on her bare breasts.
She arched her spine, closing her eyes, boldly raking her fingers back through her hair and shaking it loose.
Daniel swore through clenched teeth. “You’re beautiful,” he groaned. “Unbelievably beautiful.” His hand closed over her breast, and she moaned at the intense sensation.
She felt beautiful. For the first time in her life she felt beautiful and desirable and totally unselfconscious about her body.
She pushed his jacket from
his shoulders, desperate to feel his skin next to hers. She might not know much, but she did know his clothes had to go.
The jacket hit the floor, and she went to work on his tie.
He sucked in a tight breath as she loosened it.
“Amanda.” His voice sounded desperate.
She kissed his mouth again, flipping open the buttons on his shirt.
“We can stop,” he hissed. “It’ll kill me, but we can still…”
Finally, skin. Her lips touched his bare chest, and his entire body convulsed.
“We’re not stopping,” she breathed against his warm skin. Of all the options in all the world, stopping right now was not one of them.
“Thank God.” He found the tip of her breast and did something that made her knees nearly give way.
He clasped her tightly against him.
Then he lifted her into his arms, kissing her mouth as he strode for the bedroom doors.
She ran her fingers over his chest, reveling in the sparse, soft hair, palming his flat nipples, wondering if she was making him feel the same sensations.
He moaned her name one more time as he shakily set her on her feet next to the bed. Then he pulled her against his bare chest for another long kiss.
She flicked the single button at the side of the dress, and the fabric pooled around her ankles.
His hands stroked down her bare back, grasping her buttocks and pulling her hard against him.
She trembled a little at the thought of what would come next. But she was doing it. There was no power on earth that could stop her.
“Amanda?” he questioned, drawing back, gazing at her in the darkened room.
She pushed off his shirt, avoiding eye contact.
“You nervous?”
“No,” she lied.
He paused. “You ever…”
This time she did look at him. No point in lying. He was going to figure it out soon anyway. She slowly shook her head. “Sorry.”
He swore softly. Then his grip loosened. “Sorry?” He coughed. “You have just…” He tenderly kissed her mouth, then her cheeks, then her eyelids and her temples, drawing sensation after exquisite sensation up from her soul.
“If you’re sure,” he finally whispered.
“I am so sure,” she breathed.
A smile formed on his lips and he traced his fingertip down her abdomen, dipping into her navel, over the downy curls, then he feathered a whisper-light touch on her tender flesh.
Her eyes went wide, and her jaw dropped open.
“You like?” he asked, his eyes burning into hers.
“Oh, yes.”
His touch grew firmer, delved deeper.
She grasped his shoulders. “What should I do?”
“Nothing,” he whispered.
“But—”
“You can’t get it wrong, Mandy. There is absolutely no way for you to get this wrong.”
Her muscles clenched and her eyes grew moist.
He gently laid her back on the bed, knees bent, feet still on the plush carpet.
“You tell me if I hurt you.”
“You’re not hurting me.” He was so far from hurting her.
He left her for a second, kicking off his pants. But then he was back, and his hands were everywhere. She wanted time to stand still while she absorbed every possible sensation.
She took a deep breath, wanting to give back, wanting to make sure he was feeling half of what she was. She skimmed his chest with her knuckles, working her way lower across his taut skin. His abs contracted under her touch, and he gasped in her ear.
He groaned and kissed her mouth. She kissed him back, dueling with his tongue, arching into his touch, begging him with her body to go harder and deeper.
She wrapped her hand around him, and his heat seared her palm.
He swore, and she immediately jerked back.
“Did I hurt you?”
“You’re killing me, babe.”
“Sorry.”
He gave a hollow laugh. “Kill me some more.”
She did.
He shifted on top of her, his face showing the strains of control. “It’s now or never.”
She shifted her thighs to accommodate him. “Now,” she said with conviction.
He pushed inside her in one swift stroke.
Her eyes widened with the pain, but he kissed it all away.
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered in her ear.
It was already okay. The pain was fleeting, but the passion kept on.
He moved inside her, and her need blasted off. A driving pulse pounded in her thighs, her abdomen, her breasts.
As his pace increased, she kissed him hard, opening her body, her muscles stretching and tensing, reaching for something she couldn’t identify.
Lightning burned behind her eyes. Electricity buzzed along her legs and a hot pool of sensation spread out from where their bodies joined.
He gasped her name, his entire body tensing as the world stood still for a microsecond.
Then relief pulsed through her, washing over her like summer rain, while the pounding pulse contracted her muscles and the lightning turned to streaks of color.
“Mrs. Elliott?”
A voice reached into her private thoughts. The limo driver.
She shook herself, her hand going to her chest as if to shield herself from the embarrassment of having been caught fantasizing about Daniel. “Uh, yes?”
He nodded to the brownstone building on the right. “We’re here.”
“Of course.” Amanda moved shakily toward the limo door.
“I’ll be right there.”
She allowed him to help her from the back seat, thanked him and crossed the sidewalk to her front door, where she carefully inserted the key.
Still, the memories of that prom night refused to fade.
She and Daniel had made magical love all night long. They’d said a bittersweet goodbye the next morning, knowing they would probably never see each other again.
And they wouldn’t have. She’d have gone to NYU, and he’d have trekked all over the world.
If not for Bryan.
Bryan had changed everything.
Six
Daniel pulled his silver Lexus to the curb in front of the courthouse, determined to change tactics. He should have known his impulsive plan with Taylor wouldn’t work on a woman as smart as Amanda.
But this time, things would be different.
He was slowing down, going on an intelligence-gathering mission. By the time he made his next move, she wouldn’t even see it coming.
He set the emergency brake and shut off the engine. First things first. It was easy for him to see what should draw her to corporate law. It was harder for him to understand what drew her to criminal law.
But that was about to change.
He opened the driver’s door and stepped out of the car. Amanda’s receptionist—bless the woman’s unthinking friendliness—had told Daniel exactly where to find Amanda. She was arguing an embezzlement case.
Embezzlement.
Employees stealing from their employers.
He slammed the car door shut and clamped his jaw. It was a glamorous career his ex-wife had chosen.
He glanced at his watch as he trotted up the wide, concrete steps. They were nearly an hour into the trial.
He pulled open the heavy oak doors, crossed the wide foyer and located courtroom number five.
There he quietly slipped into the back row.
The opposing lawyer was conducting the questioning, but Daniel could see the back of Amanda’s head. She sat at the defendant’s table next to a thin woman in a tan blouse with straight, mousy brown hair.
“Can you identify the signature on the check, Mr. Burnside?” the other lawyer asked the witness.
The witness looked up from a plastic sheaf in his hand and nodded toward the defendant. “It’s Mary Robinson’s signature.”
“Did she have signing authority?” asked the
lawyer.
The witness nodded. “For petty cash, office supplies, things like that.”
“But she wouldn’t normally write a check payable to herself?”
“Absolutely not,” said the witness. “That’s fraud.”
Amanda stood up. “Objection, Your Honor. Speculation.”
“Sustained,” said the judge. He looked at the witness. “Just answer the questions.”
The witness’s mouth thinned.
“Can you tell us the amount of the check?” asked the lawyer.
“Three thousand dollars,” the witness answered, eyes hard.
“Mr. Burnside, to the best of your knowledge, did Mary Robinson purchase office supplies with that three-thousand dollars?”
“She stole it,” spat the witness.
Amanda stood again. “Your Honor—”
“Sustained,” said the judge, wearily.
“But she did,” Mr. Burnside insisted.
The judge looked down at him. “Are you arguing with me?”
He clamped his jaw.
“No further questions,” said the lawyer.
Good move, thought Daniel. Burnside didn’t seem to be helping the cause.
The judge looked to Amanda.
“No questions,” she said.
“The prosecution rests,” said the other lawyer.
“Ms. Elliott,” said the judge, “you may call your first witness.”
Amanda stood up. “The defense would like to call Collin Radaski to the stand.”
A man in a dark suit stood up and made his way toward the aisle. Amanda turned to watch, and Daniel ducked behind a woman two rows up who was wearing a broad hat.
The bailiff swore in the witness, and Amanda approached the stand.
“Mr. Radaski, would you state your position at Westlake Construction Company.”
Radaski leaned toward the microphone. “I’m the office manager.”
“As part of your duties, do you approve payroll checks?”
He leaned in again. “Yes, I do.”
Amanda walked back to the defendant’s table and picked up a piece of paper. “Is it true, Mr. Radaski, that Jack Burnside instructed you to hold back holiday pay on those checks?”
“We don’t include holiday pay every month.”
“Is it also true that overtime was paid to Westlake Construction employees at straight time rather than time and a half?”
Dynasties:The Elliots, Books 7-12 Page 21