The Notorious Groom (Desire)

by Caroline Cross

  Chelsea nodded. “Sure. We’re going to watch One Hundred and One Dalmatians. ”

  “Again?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

  Chelsea shook her head. “Nope.”

  There was a light knock on the door. “You guys having a private party in there?” Eli’s voice was muffles. “Or can I come in?”

  “Just a—” Norah began.

  “Sure!” Chelsea said in the same instant that she sprang off the bed, hurried across the room and flung open the door for her father.

  The rest of Norah’s sentence caught in her throat as she saw him.

  He looked...gorgeous. The formal black evening wear emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, the length of his legs, the bronze of his skin, the gilt of his hair. She was so overwhelmed that it took a moment for it to register that he was staring at her, too.

  “Boo?” Eli felt as if he’d been poleaxed. Frozen in the door frame, he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Was that really Norah in that classy red dress that made the most of her delicate curves, wearing high heels that showed her legs to spectacular advantage, with her mouth painted a provocative red? And what the hell had she done to her hair?

  Suddenly looking uncertain, she clasped her hands together and said softly, “What do you think?”

  “I—” He hesitated for a second as he mourned her long, gleaming locks. But then he took a harder look and realized how much more the sassy, boyish cut suited her.

  Without the heavy mane of hair dragging her down, she looked sleek and willowy, and her features suddenly stood out—the big eyes, the straight little nose, the soft, incredibly sexy mouth. She had small ears, a delicate jaw, a slim, graceful neck, and—

  “Turn around,” he said gruffly.

  Clearly perplexed, she nevertheless did as he said and slowly turned her back to him.

  The dress was cut in a dramatic V that exposed a tantalizing expanse of smooth spine and creamy shoulder blades. But that wasn’t what made his mouth go dry. Damned if the woman didn’t have a siren nape.

  She turned to face him. Suddenly he saw the vulnerability in her eyes and realized she was waiting for him to say something. He cleared his throat. “You look fantastic.”

  Like a candle catching fire, her face slowly lit up. “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. Really.” Their eyes met and she smiled with such unadulterated joy it made his throat feel tight.

  “You look wonderful, too,” she told him.

  “Oh, yeah. I was born to wear a tux,” he said dismissively. “We’d better get going. Otherwise, we’re going to be late.”

  “All right.” Picking up her wrap, she moved slowly across the room toward him, looking so enticing it was all he could do not to lean over and press a kiss to the velvety skin at the back of her neck as she walked past.

  Maybe the night wouldn’t be a complete waste after all.

  “My dear, I must say, I can’t get over the change in you,” Mrs. Lampley, a small, spry woman in her seventies said, gently squeezing Norah’s hand. “Marriage obviously agrees with you.”

  “Yes.” Norah’s gaze briefly met Eli’s. “I believe it does, Mrs. Lampley.”

  “I’m sure you must know that the judge had some reservations about your union,” Mrs. Orter added importantly. Tall and buxom, she dwarfed the other two women. “But from the look of you, Norah Jane, I must agree with Geneva. It appears things are going as well as can be expected—” she turned an imperious gaze on Eli “—under the circumstances. You must be thrilled to have married a young woman of such...quality, Mr. Wilder.”

  “Oh, absolutely, Mrs. Orter,” Eli drawled, pretending he hadn’t registered her attempted putdown.

  “Well, I’m pleased for you both,” Mrs. Lampley interjected, with a reproachful look at the judge’s wife. “Norah, my dear, you really do look lovely.”

  A charming flush of color rising in her cheeks, Norah nodded. “Thank you.”

  “For land’s sake,” Mrs. Orter snapped at the older woman. “Can’t you see you’re embarrassing the girl?” Drawing herself up, she said importantly, “Enough idle chitchat. I have a question I want to ask you. My granddaughter recently started grade school, you see, and I was shocked to learn the library was no longer operating the bookmobile. I have such fond memories of it during my son’s childhood. And now to find that dear little Amber will never have a chance to enjoy a similar experience—”

  “I understand, Mrs. Orter,” Norah said, obviously choosing her words with care. “But that particular service ended more than a decade ago when all the district schools got state funding for their own on-site libraries. In its place, we currently have a books-by-mail program. And, if the bond passes this fall, we’ll be able to enlarge our staff and take the library online. It’s really a much more effective way of reaching people.”

  “Oh, computers,” Mrs. Orter said with a dismissive shudder. “I’m afraid they’re nothing but Greek to me. All this talk about surfing the Net...” She shook her head. “It’s too confusing.”

  “You might consider taking a class,” Norah suggested gently. “As I recall, you have an interest in genealogy, and the Internet is an excellent source of information.”

  A pleasant expression locked firmly in place, Eli ceased listening to the women’s conversation. Instead, he found himself watching Norah, feeling a jumble of things: affection for her kindness, admiration for her patience, a slow burn of sexual awareness—and an uneasy surprise at her knowledge of such a diverse number of subjects.

  At different points during the night, she’d talked to a library board member about the budget she’d recently submitted, promised to send a trio of new books to the head of the high school English department, and gently but firmly defended her decision to purchase several copies of a controversial New York Times bestseller to a surprised but impressed city councilwoman.

  Now here she was, graciously chatting about bookmobiles and computers.

  Eli rolled his shoulders, feeling unaccountably restless. He’d always known Norah was educated. Yet he had to admit he’d pictured her job as mostly cataloguing and shelving books, and checking them in and out to the public. Not handling budgets, making purchasing decisions, or being someone whose input other people sought and respected.

  His faulty assumptions bothered him. So did his awareness that he would be hard-pressed to carry on an intelligent conversation about most of the topics that had been introduced tonight. Nor did he like his hunch that Mrs. Orter wasn’t the only person in town who thought Norah had done him a favor by marrying him and not the other way around.

  But what bothered him the most was that it bothered him at all.

  Just when the hell had he started to care what other people thought?

  Feeling more than a little irritated, he rocked back on his heels, refocusing his attention on his companions just as the mayor’s college-age son walked up and joined their group. “Excuse me, Miss Brown,” he said during the first break in the conversation. “I’m sorry to bother you, but Dad was wondering if you had a moment?”

  Startled, Norah stared at him. “Me?”

  “Yes.” The young man smiled, his gaze admiring as it swept over her. “He has a question about the upcoming bond he’d like to discuss with you. He promises it will only take a few minutes.”

  “Oh. Well, of course...” She looked questioningly at Eli.

  “You go ahead,” he said, disgruntled by the urge he had to point out that at least for tonight she was not Miss Brown, but Mrs. Wilder.

  Norah touched her hand to his shoulder. “I won’t be long,” she promised softly before she walked away.

  He nodded, then took a sip of his champagne, grimacing at the taste. Deciding what he needed was some fresh air and a few minutes to himself, he excused himself and headed toward the terrace.

  He was midway across the room when he came face-to-face with Joe for the first time that night.

&nbs
p; “Thank God,” the dark-haired man said fervently. “Somebody normal. Have you heard the score of the Rangers game?”

  Eli shook his head, his mouth quirking despite his ill humor. “Sorry.”

  “Damn. Then do you know who I have to bribe to get a beer around here?”

  Eli shook his head again. “Forget it. I already tried. The bar is locked up tight, and the only thing they’re serving is boozeless punch and this stuff.” He nodded at his wineglass.

  “It figures.” Joe looked askance at the potted tree that rose above him. It was one of dozens that dotted the perimeter of the room, all of them strung with scores of small decorative white bulbs that provided the room’s illumination. “They don’t even have real lights.”

  Eli raised an eyebrow. “You sound happy to be here.”

  Joe glowered at him. “Are you kidding? I was thrilled when Mel sprung this on me. I mean, why would I want to be home watching the ball game when I can be here, doing my civic duty?”

  “I can see your point.” Perverse though it might be, the more Joe groused, the better Eli felt.

  Joe narrowed his eyes. “What about you? Are you trying to tell me you’re having a swell time?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. I feel like the only sinner at a Sunday school teachers’ convention.”

  “Yeah.” Joe took a pointed look around at Kisscount’s movers and shakers. “I know what you mean. It is a little stuffy in here. But then again—” he gave Eli an exaggerated onceover “—you don’t look like the same guy who came to the senior prom wearing boots, jeans and a leather jacket, either.” He paused, one corner of his mouth twisting up. “Now you look like a penguin.”

  He gave Joe’s white dinner jacket a pointed look of his own. “At least I don’t look like a waiter.”

  Joe grimaced. “That’s Mel’s fault. She’s the one who picked out this damn coat.”

  “Where is Mel anyway?”

  “Talking to the mayor and your wife. Speaking of Norah, Mel told me I was in for a surprise, but I couldn’t believe it when I saw her.” He gave a low whistle and shook his head. “All those years I thought she was plain. Boy, was I blind. She looks great.”

  “Yeah. She does.”

  “It’s just too damn bad she’s got a job that involves this sort of thing,” Joe went on, his dark eyes glinting with sudden humor. “With those legs, we could use her at the drive-in—”

  “Yeah, right. She got a master’s degree so she could run around on roller skates?”

  “Hey, at least then we wouldn’t have to get dressed up in monkey suits and stand around talking about books and art and the damn Paul Newman award.”

  “I think you mean the Newbury Award,” Norah corrected softly, looking amused as she and Melanie appeared out of the crowd to join them. “It’s for children’s fiction.”

  “That’s right, you bozo.” Melanie hooked an arm through her husband’s. Looking spectacular in a short, black, off-the-shoulder dress that set off her generous curves and brilliant red hair, she sent him a fond but exasperated look. “Are you still complaining?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “You’re hopeless.” With a little toss of her head, she shifted her gaze to Eli. “Hey, E.”

  “Hey, Mel.” He gave her an affectionate look, then turned his attention to Norah as he drew her to his side. “How’d it go with the mayor?”

  “Fine.” To his gratified surprise, she leaned lightly against him and slowly rubbed her palm against the small of his back. “I still can’t believe he wanted to talk to me.”

  “Can we go home now?” Joe asked his wife.

  “No way. We just got here.”

  “Aw, come on, Melanie. We did our bit for the community by buying the tickets. Why do we have to hang around any longer?”

  “Because I want to dance.”

  Joe tugged at his stiff collar. “Oh, yeah. Right. Have you listened to the band? In case you missed it, that’s ”Tie A Yellow Ribbon” they’re playing. Badly.”

  “I don’t care.” With an implacable smile, she took him by the hand and hauled him toward the dance floor.

  Eli’s gaze met Norah’s. The night seemed to grow a little brighter as the amusement in her eyes spread across her face and the corners of her mouth turned up. “Is he always like that?”

  He smiled back. “Naw. Tonight he’s making an effort.”

  She gave a soft laugh. “Oh, dear.” Sobering, she made another little circle on his back with her finger. “So how are you?”

  “Fine.” With every touch, that slow burn of awareness was getting a little hotter. “What about you? You want to dance?”

  She looked over at Joe and Mel, then turned so she was facing him. “Actually... no.”

  He looked at her in surprise. “No?”

  She took a step closer, reached up and smoothed her hands along the satin lapels of his coat. She shook her head. “No. The truth is, I’m about fund-raisered out. If it’s all right with you, I’d really like to go somewhere quiet where I can take off these shoes.” Her fingers stopped their caressing and she looked directly at him with shy but unmistakable meaning. “And I wouldn’t mind if it was someplace where we can be alone.”

  She was such a surprise. It was like buying a plain sedan and finding a racing engine under the hood. “You have somewhere in mind?” he asked, his voice turning husky.

  She hesitated, then said, “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  Eli’s reply was automatic. “Baby, you’ve got it. Let’s get out of here.”

  Moonlight slanted through the trees, turning the grass to a sea of silver as Norah stood before the huge oak that dominated the grove at the back of Willow Run.

  The slightest of breezes whispered across her face. She took a deep breath, savoring the scent of summer-ripe grass overlaid with the sweetness of roses blooming near the house.

  She turned to watch as Eli, his coat and bow tie long gone and his shirt unbuttoned to expose a golden wedge of throat, planted his hands on his hips and turned his gaze upward, contemplating the tree house. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Yes, I can.” She looked up at the structure, big and boxy against the sky. “It’s perfect. Just wait and see.”

  “Norah—”

  “Trust me.” Grateful for the slit in her dress, she put a foot on the ladder and began to climb, blissfully barefoot since she’d left her pantyhose and shoes behind in the car. She was halfway to the top when Eli’s voice made her pause.

  “Hey, Boo?”

  She paused, looking down to find him looking up. “What?”

  His teeth flashed white in the silvery light. “Great view.”

  Amusement vied with embarrassment. Amusement won, giving her a mischievous courage. “I’m glad you like it. Because it’s all you’re going to see if you stay down there.”

  “Tease.” He bent down to yank off his shoes and socks.

  She laughed. A second later, she felt the ladder shudder beneath her hands and feet as it absorbed his weight. Quickly, she scrambled the rest of the way up and opened the trap door. Careful not to snag her dress, she climbed onto the deck and stepped back, feeling breathless and flushed.

  Eli appeared moments later. With a strength she envied, he effortlessly levered himself up. He lowered the trap door and climbed to his feet, his breathing remarkably even. He looked around. “This is really nice,” he said finally.

  “Told you.” Feeling ridiculously pleased, she stepped into the pitch dark of the diminutive house and felt for the end of the foam mattress that she and Chelsea always rolled up after using. She hauled it out and tossed it down so it lay across the far end of the deck.

  She reached back for a pair of pillows and a blanket, only to give a startled jump as Eli materialized beside her and took them from her hands. He turned and tossed them down on the pad, then bent his head and grazed her shoulder with his lips. “I don’t suppose you have a cold beer hidden in there?” he murmured as his mouth trailed higher, expl
oring the sensitive flesh behind her ear.

  A delicious shiver slid down her spine. She gave a faint laugh. “Sorry.”

  His hands came up and he turned her toward him, his tongue rimming her ear. “That’s okay. I guess I’ll just have to find something else to do.” He tipped up her chin with one big warm hand seconds before his breath whispered across her cheek and his mouth settled over hers.

  Norah gave a moan of pleasure and skated her hands up his arms. Because they’d agreed not to make love with Chelsea in the house, it seemed as though the past few days had been an endless succession of heated looks and stolen kisses that always ended too soon.

  Now she couldn’t get enough of him. Her whole body felt hot and overloaded with sensation. Holding tight to his biceps, she drank in his scent, a mixture of starch, soap and spicy aftershave, her hunger matching his. She pressed eagerly against him, her breathing growing more ragged as her nipples rubbed against the crisp pleats of his shirt.

  His hands stroked over her, kneading her buttocks and rubbing her against him. She arched her hips, making a soft, involuntary little sound as she felt his rigid length against her belly.

  She tore her mouth from his. “Eli..”

  “I know.” His hand skated down, found the bottom of her skirt and slid up the back of her bare thigh.

  She jerked as his fingers grazed her most intimate place. A tremor went through him and he groaned. “Aw, mercy. You’re wet.”

  Heat burned in her face, but she didn’t draw away as his hands came up and found her zipper.

  Seconds later her dress slithered to the floor. He took in her new scarlet lace bra and matching thong bikini, the whites of his eyes gleaming in the moonlight as his fingertip skimmed the fragile lace below her navel. “Pretty.” That said, he tugged the panties down, then stripped off her bra.

  Naked in the silky night air, she watched him step back and jerk his shirttail out of his pants. He struggled with the unfamiliar onyx studs. Cursing under his breath, be finally settled for undoing his cuff links and yanking the shirt over his head. His pants and bnefs hit the deck seconds later.