by Ann Collins
“Thanks, Doc.” Alex started to sip from his glass.
“Wait,” Mary said, her eyes as bright as her husband’s. “I have something to add.” Giggling, she raised her glass higher, her hand weaving. “To many more kisses and a future filled with beautiful babies.”
Champagne sloshed out of Julia’s glass, landing on the remains of the small wedding cake her pastry chef had baked for them.
Kate laughed. “Mother!”
Alex lowered his glass. Wanting to reassure Julia he hadn’t forgotten her fears, he said, “Mary, it’s a little early to be thinking about children.”
“I know, but children are so very precious.” She smiled affectionately at her daughter, and they clinked glasses.
He felt Julia squirm, heard the rustling of her dress. She set her glass back on the table.
“Yes,” he said, “they are extremely precious.” He tried not to think about Danny, didn’t dare if he wanted to keep his composure. He reminded himself that tonight was a new beginning for him. “Julia and I will do what’s right for us.”
The doctor raised his glass higher. “And that is as it should be. Julia, you made the right choice of man.” He drank down every last bubble of his champagne.
She darted a glance at Alex. “I … believe I did,” she said, but she didn’t drink.
“Good stuff,” the doctor said, then smacked a noisy kiss on his wife’s cheek.
“Harold!” She playfully pushed him away. “Not in public.”
He grinned. “I’ll kiss you anywhere I please, my love.” He lifted her pudgy hand and settled his lips against her fingers.
She giggled. “That tickles.”
He smiled, then looked toward the doors and cupped a hand to his ear. “I do believe I hear the Friday night orchestra tuning up.” Swaying slightly, he stood and pulled his wife to her feet. “What do you say we all adjourn to the Grand Ballroom for a bit of fancy footwork?” He winked at Mary.
She blushed like a schoolgirl. “Are you sure you remember how to dance, old man?”
“I will gladly show you how much I remember.” He tucked her arm in his.
Kate stood beside them and rolled her eyes. “Mother, you know exactly how much he remembers. You danced with him two weeks ago.”
Mary’s blush deepened. “I was just teasing him, Kate. We like to tease each other. You’ll understand that someday.” Eyes glinting, she exchanged a knowing look with her husband.
Alex stood, too, envying the doctor and his wife. Might he and Julia someday share such feelings for each other? He hoped so. It would take work, though, and they needed to be able to trust each other. Without trust, they would have nothing, and there was so much Julia didn’t know about him. But did he have the courage to confide what he wanted to forget?
“Doctor,” he said, “I think Julia and I will call it a night.”
She jumped up so fast her chair toppled over. “But I want to dance.”
Alex picked up her chair, knowing a stall tactic when he heard one. He started to worry about the night of lovemaking he had planned. He wanted a willing bride in his bed, the same woman who had kissed him without reserve in front of hundreds of people. “You do?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Then we’ll dance.” He took her arm and steered her past the Dolans, out of the dining room.
“Wait up, Alex,” the doctor called out. “Take pity on a stout old man.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “We’ll meet you in the ballroom.”
Dr. Dolan waved them away. “Go on then.”
They crossed the Rotunda, passed by the reception desk, and strode down the hallway.
She tugged on his arm. “You don’t have to walk so fast.”
He slowed. “I thought you were eager to dance.”
“Not really, but I suspect you already knew that.”
He shrugged, then nodded. “It wasn’t difficult to figure out.”
“Today has not been easy for me, but I am grateful for what you’ve done, Alex. The hotel is safe now. I’m also grateful for the way you handled Mary’s toast about … babies.”
“You’re welcome on both counts. Whether we choose to have children or not is nobody’s business but ours. However, you might ease your fears by talking to Dr. Dolan about the medical side of things.”
“I’ll … think about it,” she said as they entered the circular Grand Ballroom.
Couples sat at small tables, stood in groups, or whirled around the dance floor. Other guests watched from a gallery above. An orchestra played on stage, and as Alex led his wife toward the dance floor, the band broke off their song, swiftly changing to a rendition of the “Wedding March.”
He felt Julia wilt a bit, then shore herself back up as men and women uttered congratulations or acknowledged them with a smile or nod.
One rosy-cheeked man got up from his chair and lifted his glass to them. “Are you going to christen the Bridal Chamber yourselves?” He roared with laughter.
Her steps faltered.
Alex steadied her. “We’ll leave that room to the paying guests,” he answered for her. They didn’t need the Bridal Chamber. Julia’s apartment—their home—would do just fine.
They finally reached the dance floor, and the orchestra segued to a waltz. He took his wife into his arms and spun her around with him, their steps perfectly matched, their bodies moving as one. Beneath the press of her fingers against his shoulder, his flesh grew hot.
As the melody ended and another began, Dr. Dolan cut in, saving Alex from having to excuse himself or dragging Julia upstairs. He danced with Mary and then Kate, grateful for the chance to cool down. But then he was paired with his wife again.
She settled into his embrace as if she had never been gone, as if she belonged there. He held her closer, leaning his head against the softness of her hair, happy that she’d stowed her hat in her office before dinner. Her sweet scent enclosed them in a world of their own, and Alex couldn’t help but remember the honeyed taste of her mouth. Damn, but he wanted her.
Three torturous dances later, he stopped them near the edge of the floor. “Let’s go home.”
“We are home,” she said, feigning innocence.
“You know what I mean. Upstairs, to the apartment.”
She tensed. “You go ahead. I have some things to do.”
“What things?”
“Well, everything I didn’t get done this afternoon because we had to go to San Diego for the marriage license.”
“Your duties to the hotel can wait until tomorrow. Tonight, everyone, including me, expects you to put hotel matters aside. Besides, you’re not going anywhere unless I accompany you. Have you forgotten someone around here wants you dead?”
She tensed. “I’d like to forget it, but I haven’t.”
“Your safety comes first, Julia.”
“Thank you.” She let go of him. “We might as well go upstairs then.”
He offered her his arm.
She stared at it a moment, inhaled deeply, and let her breath back out in a rush of air. She slid her arm through his with a minimum of contact.
Leading her from the ballroom, Alex kept his expression neutral, no longer sure whether the night he’d been eagerly anticipating would happen.
* * *
Julia climbed the stairs to the second floor. Every part of her body hummed with her awareness of Alex as he walked beside her. On the dance floor, in his arms, she had almost forgotten that her husband was a stranger who undoubtedly expected a wedding night. She had let the music and his agile strength and elegant steps sweep her along until, heaven help her, she had wanted him to hold her closer and tighter. She’d wanted to dance with him forever.
But now reality returned. They were about to enter her apartment, and she had a duty to perform as his wife. She trusted him to do what he said was possible to avoid conceiving a child. He had not dismissed her fears, speaking up for her when Mary had made her toast about babies. Julia’s trust in
him had grown.
Outside the apartment door, they stopped. Alex pulled a key from his coat pocket.
“Where did you get that?” Her refuge was no longer her own.
“Theo slipped it to me during dinner, after he put my belongings inside.” He inserted the key in the lock and opened the door.
The sitting room was lit, compliments of Theo, no doubt. She spied Alex’s battered traveling bag beside the nearest sofa. It belonged in her father’s old bedroom.
She started to go inside, but Alex held her back. “What?” she asked.
“Don’t you want me to carry you over the threshold?”
“No. Under the circumstances, that would be silly.” Their union was far from a real marriage. “Besides, you’re not to lift anything heavy. Doctor’s orders, remember?”
“You’re not heavy.”
His eyes had darkened again, and her heart started to hammer. “Nevertheless, you are not going to carry me over this threshold.” She stepped inside.
“I guess I won’t.” He closed the door and locked it, the decisive click making her flinch. He set his key on the parlor table, then unbuttoned his coat and loosened his cravat, as if it were perfectly natural for him to begin undressing in front of her.
“Your room is there,” she said quickly, pointing. “Mine is there.” She pointed in the opposite direction. “We each have our own bathroom with water closet.” She mentally thanked the hotel’s architects for that. She wanted her privacy.
“Then I’ll move into my room and make myself at home.” He ambled over to his bag and picked it up. “Then perhaps we could … talk.”
Talk, indeed, she thought, her legs beginning to shake.
“Will you be needing help with your dress?”
“No! I mean, no, thank you. I can get out of it myself. I will … see you afterwards.”
“All right. Whenever you’re ready. Oh, and just to put your mind at ease, I have what we’ll need to avoid conception.”
Her cheeks grew hot. “I am glad to hear that.” She gulped. Now she had no reason whatsoever to deny him his rights as her husband.
“Do you want me to come to your room?” he asked.
“No, I’ll come to you.”
“It won’t be awkward for you, being with me in your father’s former room?”
“I’ll be fine. Several months after my father’s passing, I cleaned out his things, replaced the furniture, and had the room repainted.” Consummating their marriage in her father’s old room would not be any more awkward than the entire situation already was.
He shifted his bag to his other hand. “Okay. See you in a little while then.” He sauntered away and disappeared into his room.
When she tried to move, Julia felt as if her legs were made of wood. Hobbling into her bedroom, she switched on the electric lights in the wall sconces and tried to get hold of herself. Alex had kept up his side of their arrangement, now it was her turn.
She could do it. In fact, the sooner she did it the better. She would offer herself to him, and a few short minutes later, their first time together would be over. Her duty for the night would be done, and she could return to the privacy of her own room. Julia ignored the little voice reminding her of Alex’s boast that she would enjoy their intimate relations.
She toed off her shoes and unfastened the buttons at her nape. Fatigue from her lack of sleep began to set in. Try as she might, contorting her hands and arms, she could not reach the rest of the buttons. Spent, she let her arms fall to her sides and dropped her chin to her chest. She needed help, and the only help available was Alex.
She uttered an unladylike curse. Well, she might as well give in now. She would let him become her husband in every way, and she’d find out if his claims about lovemaking were true.
Squaring her shoulders, she left her room, crossed the apartment, and knocked lightly at Alex’s door.
It swung open, and he stood shirtless in front of her, the top two buttons of his pants unfastened.
Her mouth turned to sand.
“I didn’t expect you so soon.” He folded his bare, muscular arms over his bare, muscular chest. Even worse, he smiled. She wished he wouldn’t. She tended to forget herself when he smiled.
She tried to find her voice. “I, uh, can’t reach the buttons on my dress.”
He chuckled, the sound making her insides quiver. “Turn around.”
She did, her legs wooden again.
His deft fingers started where she had left off and slowly moved down. They brushed her skin where the edges of the dress fell open.
Julia could barely breathe. She stood perfectly still, trying to quell the little tremors spreading over her body. How did he manage to touch her so lightly yet send ripples of feeling flowing to the very tips of her fingers and toes?
When he stopped, she managed to ask, “Are you … finished?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On how much further you want me to go?” His breath and words feathered across the bare skin above her combination camisole and corset.
She shut her eyes at the sensation. Her normally rational brain felt as if it were floating in a thick fog. “I … don’t understand.”
He skimmed kisses along the top of her spine, and her head dropped forward, seemingly of its own accord. “Would you like to come in?”
Shivery from his seductive touch, she slowly turned and glanced from his warm gaze to the wide bed. The reality of her situation flooded back to her. She was not married to a man she loved, but she was about to give herself to him anyway, because it was his right as her husband. She also owed him for her future at the hotel.
She nodded, the movement like a woodpecker’s. “Yes, I will come in. I want to get this over with as quickly as possible so I can go back to my room and sleep. It’s been a very long day.”
Instead of stepping aside, he rubbed his jaw. “Julia, making love to you for the first time will not happen ‘quickly.’ It will be slow and sensual, every moment and movement to be savored. You’re a passionate woman. You proved that when we kissed.”
“I suffered a moment of weakness. I don’t expect it to happen again.” She told herself she didn’t want it to happen again, but standing in front of this man—her husband—with his chest hair gleaming under the electric lights and his rich brown eyes looking so knowing, she felt her resolve eroding like Coronado’s beach during a winter storm.
“You enjoyed that kiss as much as I did.” His long, dark lashes lowered over an amused glimmer. “And when we make love together, you will enjoy that even more. Like our wedding kiss, our mating will go on and on, but even that won’t be enough.”
Instead of laughing at his outrageous talk, she trembled. “I don’t think so. Now let’s just do this before I lose my resolve.”
He dropped his hand to the waistband of his dress pants, which now seemed to fit more snugly across the front. The moment Julia realized why, she whisked her errant gaze back up. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment while her lower body pulsed. What had she been thinking to look down there?
He pursed his lips, then released what sounded like a groan and a sigh. “Julia, I know I’m going to regret this for the next few hours, but I’m sending you back to your room. When we consummate our marriage, it’s going to be because you want me as much as I want you. Tonight, nothing is going to happen between us.”
“But—”
He covered her lips with his fingers. “We will, eventually, make love. I think I can promise you that. The time and place are what will remain in question.”
She curled her hands into fists. Not knowing when it would happen was even worse than doing it now, when she didn’t want to but was resigned to letting it happen.
He leaned down, cupped one side of her face with his hand, and pressed his lips to the other side in a tender, lingering kiss.
Her knees went soft. Any hope of whirling away from him, exerting some semblance of control over hersel
f and the situation, deserted her.
He straightened, trailed the pad of his callused index finger along the line of her jaw, and said, “Good night, Mrs. MacLean. Sleep well.”
With that, he stepped back and closed the door.
Breathless, staring at the wood grain just inches away from her nose, Julia didn’t think she would sleep at all. Alex had given her a reprieve, but one she wasn’t so sure she wanted anymore.
* * *
Alex leaned against the bedroom wall as hot and hard as he had ever been for a woman. Sleep would not come easy tonight, but he had done the right thing by sending Julia and her alluring innocence away. He didn’t want her coming to him out of obligation. He wanted her in his bed as a willing marriage partner—because she wanted him, scar and all.
Only then would she be his.
Chapter Nine
Dressed in a pastel-blue shirtwaist and skirt, Julia sat at the small dining table in her apartment and attempted another bite of toast, but she had no appetite. Every time she heard Alex moving around in his bedroom, she jumped. Hearing him taking a bath had sent her imagination soaring to places she didn’t want to go. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
His door opened.
She stiffened, her spine as rigid as the pilings holding up the boathouse on Glorietta Bay. Her fingers clamped down on the triangle of toast. It crumbled, dropping onto her plate.
“Good morning, Mrs. MacLean.” He came up behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and leaned over her.
When she dared to look up at him, tipping her head back, he kissed her forehead. She struggled not to close her eyes. If she lost the struggle, she would end up picturing him taking her into his arms and passionately kissing her on the mouth.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, coming around the table and sitting down across from her. He wore his faded work clothes.
“No,” she admitted, relaxing a bit now that he wasn’t touching her.
“Me either.” He leaned his forearms on the table. “The doctor was right about a hot bath, though. I can move better now.”