by Francis Ray
“Is that all?” Devin asked drolly when Lucian reached the door.
“No. You’re coming with me with as many of the other bachelors in the People spread as you can talk into coming.” He smiled. “We’re going to be escorting models.”
Devin blinked, then grinned like a fox in front of the open door of a henhouse.
Miranda hung up the phone in a state of shock. First the CEO of LaMier’s had called to assure her that he understood her dilemma with Elizabeth Bass, who was one of his good customers. Modeling a couple of pieces for her visiting friends would be acceptable. He planned to call Elizabeth personally to invite her to the trunk show.
He’d gone on to say that it was going to be an event to remember, with several of the bachelors from the People magazine spread escorting the models. Lucian Faulkner had promised a chocolate feast that would be talked about for weeks. The CEO had practically been giddy when he’d hung up.
The phone rang again. This time it was Elizabeth Bass, apologizing for the position she had unknowingly placed Miranda in, and gushing with joy that the CEO had called her from Geneva to personally invite her to the trunk show. Her visiting friends had a single daughter and were thinking of returning with her. They’d all eaten and enjoyed chocolates from A Chocolate Affair, and were anxious to meet the two men in charge. Elizabeth was going to hunt up her issue of People and show her friends.
That last sentence hadn’t sat well with Miranda. The daughter could have Devin, but Lucian was hers.
Miranda groaned. No matter how much she wished otherwise, he couldn’t be hers, but he was making it difficult to keep remembering that. She owed him more than she could ever repay. He’d come through for her. Picking up the phone, she dialed.
“Lucian Faulkner’s office. May I help you?”
Miranda recognized his secretary’s voice. “Hello, LaWanna, this is Miranda Collins. May I speak to Lucian, please?”
There was a slight pause. “He’s not here. Is there a message?”
Disappointment swept through her. “When do you expect him?”
“Tomorrow.”
“If he’s not in an important meeting, perhaps I can get him on his cell phone?”
“His cell phone has been turned off,” she said. “But I’m sure he plans to contact you before the night is over.”
Miranda brightened. “You think so?”
“I’d bet my next paycheck on it,” she said with a laugh.
Miranda found herself smiling. “Thanks, LaWanna. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Ms. Collins.”
Miranda stood, clipped her cell phone to her belt, and headed for the workroom. If Lucian tried to call her she wanted to make sure she didn’t miss him. The least she could do was thank him.
Lucian’s grandmother was fond of saying that man planned and God unplanned. She’d never been more right. His three-hour flight to New York had turned into a nightmarish six after their plane had engine trouble and was diverted to Atlanta, where they had to wait for another plane. By the time a cab dropped him off in front of Miranda’s apartment, it was close to ten.
Nodding to the concierge, Lucian entered the posh interior and headed for the elevator. He was tired, hungry, and irritated at the inefficiency of the airline. He wasn’t looking forward to getting back on a plane from the same airline tomorrow morning.
Stepping off on the thirty-second floor, he quickly found Miranda’s apartment and rang the doorbell, then rang again. No answer. It was the perfect ending to a horrendous day.
What else could go wrong? His head fell, then snapped up as he heard the lock disengage.
“Lucian!”
Miranda launched herself into his arms. He clutched her to him, his fatigue and hunger falling away. His mouth found hers and it was like coming home. “I thought you were out.”
“I was setting the table.” She reached for his bag, but he picked it up and handed her the shopping bag.
“For you.”
Her smile was tremulous. “Thank you.”
With one hand on the small of her back, he urged her inside. “You’re welcome.”
“I’ll show you where you can wash up; then you can eat. Pork tenderloin.”
“You don’t seem surprised to see me.”
“I’m not,” she said. “After I called for the tenth time LaWanna finally told me you were on your way, but having trouble. I told the concierge to expect you.” She touched his face. “You didn’t have to come, but I’m glad you did.” Her hand fell and she shook her head. “What you did with Carter and Elizabeth was nothing short of a miracle. You helped even after I said I didn’t need your help.”
He took her hand. “No matter what, I’ll always be there for you.”
“I think that may be starting to sink in.” She took his arm. “Come on and eat.”
“I had planned on taking you out to dinner.” He washed up at the sink, then hung his jacket on the back of the chair.
“I’d much rather be at home with you.”
Lucian agreed. He watched as she lit the two white taper candles on the glass-topped table. “I like your place.” Her home was an arresting mix of Southern flavor and New York savvy. The golden yellows and earthy greens wrapped the apartment in quiet beauty.
She beamed with pleasure. “I’ll give you a tour later and drill you about how you pulled my chestnuts out of the fire.” She placed his plate in front of him. “Help yourself. I’ve already eaten.”
Lucian blessed the food, then dug in. It was delicious. “You could give Sandy lessons.”
“Thank you.” Miranda picked up his empty plate and went to the sink. “Mother didn’t like cooking, so I helped Grandma Pearson. She taught me.”
Lucian suspected there were a lot of household chores that her mother had left to Miranda. He said nothing, simply helped her clean up the kitchen, something he had never thought about doing before. His mouth quirked.
“What?” she asked, putting away the last dish.
“Never thought I’d enjoy washing dishes.” His hands curved around her waist and he drew her to him. “But I’ve got a feeling that it has a lot to do with the woman I’m helping.”
Her hands rested on his chest. “I thought I could do everything, be everything by myself. I found out I was wrong.”
“Any problem is easier if you’re not alone.” He brushed his mouth across hers. “A bit of my grandmother’s wisdom.”
“Sharing is not one of my strong suits,” she confessed.
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” he teased.
She laughed, then sobered. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”
“If you’ll let me, I’ll always be there,” he said softly.
Sadness mixed with fear crossed her face. “Lucian, I don’t know if I can give you what you want, yet I want you to stay anyway.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
She visibly relaxed. “That’s not exactly true.” She took a couple of steps back. “Race you to bed.”
He didn’t catch her until she was on the turned-down bed, laughing at her victory. “I won. I won.”
He stared down at her a long time before he slipped off his shoes, unbuttoned his shirt, then knelt on the bed in front of her. “Do you know how incredible you are? You have so much to give.”
“I wish I could see me with your eyes.”
“One day you will. I promise.”
He kissed her as if she were fragile, as if she were the most precious thing in the world. Miranda felt the punch of desire as he came down on the bed on top of her. Her hands splayed on the muscled hardness of his chest, felt the warmth. “You definitely tempt a woman.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when her tongue flicked across first one nipple, then the other.
Lucian sucked in his breath. “Miranda.” Her name was a ragged whisper.
It was all the encouragement she needed to love him as completely as he loved her. She was det
ermined that he feel the same intensity. “Too many clothes.”
This time she was the aggressor. She didn’t stop until their clothes were scattered on the floor. “Now.” Pushing him down on the bed, she straddled him, sucking in her breath as she felt his hard erection pressing against her woman’s softness.
“Honey, you’re killing me.”
She scooted up a bit, drawing a hiss from him. Her hands once again on his chest, she stared down at him. She’d take every precious second with him. “Prepare yourself to be thoroughly loved.”
The intensity of his eyes made her feel both weak and powerful. “That’s all I ever wanted from you.”
The words went straight to her heart. Few people in her life had cared about her unconditionally, wanting nothing from her except love. Leaning over, she began kissing him on his forehead, working her way down to his mouth, where she nibbled and teased before going to his chest and abdomen. Her hand measured the hard, thick length of him, bringing him off the bed.
“My turn.” Instantly she was on her back, his mouth making a greedy foray over her body; then his mouth was on hers again. His hand swept down her quivering body to find her wet and hot. He stroked her there with the same erotic rhythm of his tongue in her mouth, driving her to the breaking point.
“Lucian,” she called to him, and he answered, sliding into her slick, welcoming heat. She felt the rightness of it as her body clenched around him; holding him, then he began to move.
Eagerly she met the thrusts of his body and made demands of her own. He met each one until they went over together, locked in each other’s arms.
Miranda couldn’t imagine being happier. She’d been smiling nonstop since she’d woken that morning in Lucian’s arms. They’d made love again, then taken a shower together. Leaving him in the bedroom to finish dressing, she had gone to the kitchen to cook breakfast. He had to leave shortly to go to the airport.
She’d miss him, but knowing they’d talk daily and that he would return next Friday helped. They’d have the entire weekend. And when he returned to Dallas, she was going with him. He’d asked her in a weak moment in the shower when he had been doing delicious things to her body, and she hadn’t been able to say no.
She was sliding the pancakes onto the plate when he entered the kitchen, looking so tempting she wanted to gobble him up. “You’re going to turn heads at the trunk show,” she said, not at all pleased by the thought.
Sliding his arms around her waist, he said, “The only head I’m interested in turning is yours.”
She smiled. “Good thing I believe you, or you’d have to go to the airport on an empty stomach.”
“About time.” He kissed her on the cheek, then reached for the chair to seat her when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll not expecting anyone.” She lifted a dark brow and smiled. “Do you by chance know who it might be?”
A dimple winked in his handsome face. “Why don’t you answer it and find out?”
Smiling, wondering what Lucian had sent her this time, she started for the door. Last night, after making love the second time, she’d finally gotten around to opening the gift-wrapped box he’d brought of chocolate, orange, and amaretto truffles tied with a gorgeous orange bow.
Opening the door, she stared in shock. “Mother.”
Chapter Eight
“HELLO, MIRANDA. Don’t look so surprised,” her mother said, entering the apartment. “I thought I’d save you the trouble of sending me the check and pick it up.” She sighed dramatically. “Although I wish you had gone to Italy for my statu—”
Lucian stepped out of the kitchen. “Good morning, Mrs. Collins.”
Mrs. Collins stared at Lucian a long moment, then abruptly turned to Miranda, anger sweeping across the older woman’s face as she took in her daughter in a silk robe with obviously nothing underneath. “Who’s that man?” she demanded.
“Lucian Faulkner,” Lucian answered, stepping forward to extend his hand. Miranda, with a shell-shocked look on her face, hadn’t moved.
Miranda’s mother ignored him and his hand. “Miranda, I can’t believe you’re stupid enough to throw your life and career over for some man who just wants sex.”
“Mother, please,” Miranda finally said. “Please try to understand.”
“Understand that you’re throwing away everything that you’ve worked and sacrificed to achieve?” she said tightly. “It’s a good thing I came over here so I could stop this.”
“Like you did in college,” Lucian said.
She whirled toward him, her anger increasing. “So you’re the one! You won’t ruin my daughter’s future. Get out.”
“Mother, calm down.”
She turned on her daughter. “Don’t be blinded because the sex is good.”
Miranda gasped. It was all Lucian could do not to forcibly show her mother the door. “Miranda knows I care about her.” He wanted to go to Miranda, but didn’t know if that would make her mother’s attack more vicious.
Mrs. Collins glared at him. “I’m sure you’ve pledged undying love and devotion, but it won’t last, and in the meantime it will destroy everything she’s worked for.”
“Are you worried about Miranda or what her career can do for you financially?”
Miranda’s mother sharp intake of air cut through the room. “How dare you say such a thing to me? I’ve sacrificed everything for her.”
Name one thing, he almost said, but he realized it would only hurt Miranda. She was obviously torn. He crossed to her and stared deeply into her troubled eyes. “Don’t lose faith in me or what we have.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “See you Friday at the trunk show.”
“No, you won’t,” her mother answered. “She wants nothing more to do with you.”
“I’ll see you Friday.” Lucian picked up his overnight case and left, hoping that history wasn’t going to repeat itself.
“How could you be so gullible?” her mother asked the second the door closed. “Are you listening to me?”
Miranda turned from the door. “You’re wrong about Lucian, Mother.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” she said. “Have you forgotten the hell your father put us through? How embarrassing it was to have to leave our beautiful home and go live in a cramped two-bedroom apartment? We lost friends, everything.”
“Naturally, I was confused and upset at first, but Grandma and Grandpa Pearson made me feel welcomed and special,” Miranda said.
“They loved you because you were mine, and their only grandchild.” Her mother’s mouth tightened. “But you could put my parents’ entire apartment in the master suite of our house on Long Island.”
Miranda started to say that was probably true, but she’d never felt as happy there as she had in her grandparents’ home. She left the thought unsaid. Perhaps she’d been too young to understand. Her father had been busy with his electronic company and her mother with her “me time,” as she called it.
“I wish they could be here to see I’ve succeeded.” Her grandmother had taught Miranda to sew. She was the first one to recognize her talent and encourage her. Her grandfather took money he could ill afford to buy her material to work with. Both her grandparents had died when she was a freshman in college. The only reason Miranda and her mother had been able to make ends meet after their deaths was because of the money from the life-insurance policy they’d left.
“You won’t have your success long if you have an affair with that man instead of paying attention to your company,” her mother warned. “You know how fickle the fashion industry is. One bad show and you’re history.”
“If not for Lucian, I might have been heading in that direction already.” She told her mother what had happened with Elizabeth Bass and LaMier’s. “He wants what’s best for me. He helped when he didn’t have to.”
“To get you into bed. But soon you’ll be just another woman, while he goes on his merry way,” her mother said bitterly.
Miranda r
ealized she’d never change her mother’s mind. She had transferred her anger toward her adulterous husband to Lucian. “Mother, I have to get ready for work.”
“Miranda, don’t throw away your life on a man who only wants to use you.”
“I don’t want to discuss it anymore.” Miranda went to the door. “We start on the new design today.”
“Then I won’t keep you. If you could write out the check, I’ll be on my way,” her mother said.
“Of course.” Miranda went to the secretary in the great room and quickly wrote out the check. Ripping it out, she gave it to her mother, who was now smiling broadly. At least in this she could make her mother happy.
“Thank you, Miranda. You’re such a good daughter.” She briefly hugged her, then hurried to the door. “Good-bye.”
She tried to be a good daughter, but a good daughter wouldn’t keep remembering what Lucian had asked her mother. Are you worried about Miranda or what her career can do for you financially?
He was wrong. Some people just showed their love in different ways.
The doorbell rang again. Probably her mother wanting to give her one last piece of advice. She opened the door.
“Delivery for Ms. Miranda Collins.”
Miranda stared at the large box, then signed for the package and closed the door. She quickly went to her desk. Carefully she cut the outer wrapping of craft paper to reveal a corrugated box. Opening it, she pulled out packing bubbles to reveal a jar of chocolate-raspberry syrup, chopped pecans, and cherries.
Next time we’ll try to finally make the sundaes, but I wouldn’t count on it.
Lucian
Would there be a next time? Picking the box up to discard it, she noticed it remained heavy. Placing it back on the desk, she dug deeper to find a box of vanilla buttercreams. A cardboard circle kept the ecru bow from being crushed.
I couldn’t resist adding these, just like I couldn’t resist you the first time I saw you.