“Okay, Alison, let’s try it,” she said with a sigh of resignation. “It can’t be any worse than any of these,” she added, waving her hand at the piles of discarded finery.
Now, as she gazed in the bedroom mirror, she thanked her guardian angel for bringing Alison to her. The dress, besides being the most expensive Ruth had ever purchased, was the most flattering. It was strapless and the snug bodice fit like it was made for her, lifting her small bosom into a stratosphere of tempting cleavage. It was made of a heavy matte satin and basically unadorned. The skirt was magnificently bouffant and made of silk organdy with a light sprinkling of black brilliants that gave it a subtle sparkle. It was matinee length, which revealed enough of her legs to entice, yet would make her look graceful and sexy while dancing. There was a diaphanous wrap made of the same fabric of the skirt, and while Ruth had goggled at her reflection in the dressing room mirrors, the intrepid Alison had scooted off to find a bag and shoes. The shoes were basically evening sandals in black peau de soie with a sparkling black ornament on the toe of each shoe, and the bag was a dainty sequined number just big enough for a lipstick, handkerchief and a compact. It was by far the most amazing outfit Ruth had ever worn in her life and she couldn’t wait to show it off for Mac.
Before she left Bloomie’s however, she had done two things. First, she’d asked to speak to the store manager so she could impress on him what a jewel he had in an employee like Alison. After the man had thanked her effusively and assured her that Alison would be amply recognized for her professionalism, Ruth had asked one more question of the young woman. “Where’s the lingerie department?”
Now it was time for the show to begin. Sure enough, a sexy voice called her from the living room of the suite.
“Are you ready, honey?”
Ruth touched the pearl drop in her earlobe and smiled like a wise and contented cat before answering.
“Yes, I am. Are you?”
She turned out the light in her bedroom and walked into the living room where her escort awaited. Suddenly the light in the room seemed brighter when his eyes caressed her from head to toe. She returned his smile with one of her own, made even more feminine than usual with the sheer red shimmer of her lip gloss. For once the usually voluble Mac was totally silent, as though he couldn’t find the right words to say to her. She turned around in a slow circle, trying to hide her elation at his response.
“Will I do, Julian?” she said in a sultry purr.
“Ruth. Honey, you’re…damn,” he whispered. “I can’t remember enough words to tell you how you look tonight.”
He held out his hand and she walked toward him, giving him her slender hand in return. “Well, I can tell you that you look magnificent. You’re the handsomest man I’ve ever seen in my life, Julian. You’ve come a long way from being the worst-dressed lawyer in Louisiana,” she teased him.
He was wearing a custom-tailored black suit that emphasized his height and his lean physique. His crisp white shirt was set off by a handmade silk tie in an African-looking print and he looked so good Ruth could feel her heartbeat pulsing in every part of her body. Now it was her turn to tell him that they needed to leave right now if they intended to step a foot out of the suite that night.
“Your wish is always my command,” he assured her and in minutes they were on their way.
***
It was an enchanted evening from beginning to end. Mac hired a limousine to transport them and it gave the night a Cinderella-like air. The Rainbow Room was everything Ruth could have desired. The ambience was perfect for a romantic rendezvous. To heighten the atmosphere, they were lucky enough to be entertained by the incomparable Jane Monheit, a young jazz singer whose melodic voice drenched the air with an invitation to love. There was a rotating dance floor and they took full advantage of it, dancing the night away when they weren’t partaking of their sumptuous three-course meal. It was particularly gratifying to Ruth that Mac never took his eyes off her. Jane Monheit was a true beauty with huge hazel eyes, long, wavy brown hair and a curvy body that could stop traffic, but Mac, unlike the majority of the men in the room, ignored her completely. All his attention was fixed on Ruth and she loved every minute of it. The only time he turned away from her all night was when the maitre d’ brought them a bottle of very expensive champagne.
“It’s from the gentleman over there,” the man said with a discreet nod to a table across the room. “He hopes you and your wife will accept it with his compliments.
There was no mistaking the smiling face, snowy hair and blue eyes of the former President of the United States and his lovely wife. They both waved a greeting to Mac and Ruth, who was duly impressed.
“My goodness, somebody’s been stepping in some high cotton,” she laughed. “Dare I ask how you know them?”
Mac waited until the champagne was opened and poured, then lifted his glass to hers. “I’ll tell you about it some other time. Right now I want to sip a little of this and then take you back out on the dance floor so I can show you off some more. You’re one hell of a partner, honey. In fact, you’re one hell of a woman. Come on, darlin’, let’s show them how it’s done,” he said as he rose and held out his hand.
***
Ruth really could have danced all night, just like the words from the old musical, but there were better things in store for her. When the limousine arrived to pick them up and transport them back to the hotel, she was more than ready to go. She had excused herself earlier to go to the ladies’ room and she’d also used her cell phone to test the “whatever, whenever” service of the hotel. She explained what she needed to the concierge, who assured her that all would be in readiness when they returned. A thrill of anticipation ran down her spine as they drove through the streets of Manhattan, partly because she could hardly wait to get there , but mainly because Mac was playing with the long curl that graced the nape of her neck.
The feel of his fingers on the sensitive skin of her neck was thrilling. It was sending little frissons of anticipation all over her, reducing her to a sensual mush. He was also kissing her, caressing her ear with his tongue while he whispered endearments to her, some in French and some other language she couldn’t understand. His intentions were plain and needed no interpretation at all. By the time the limousine stopped in front of the W, Ruth was weak from his tender, loving assault on her willing flesh. She was vaguely aware that they were getting out of the luxurious car, only slightly cognization of entering the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, Mac enfolded her in his arms and kissed her, long and sweet. His lips burned into her soul, his breath became her breath and every beat of his heart was echoed by her own. She had no recollection at all of getting to the suite, but when he opened the door her wits came back to her as she could see that everything was just the way she’d specified.
“My turn,” she murmured in a soft, dreamy voice. ‘This is your surprise. I’ll bet I can get changed before you,” she added, allowing her new black satin evening coat to slide down to the floor. She draped her organza wrap around his neck and used it to pull his head down to hers for one last kiss before she disappeared into her bedroom.
She lost the bet, though, because Mac was ready before she was, although in fairness, she had more to do. She had to remove her gown and put it away, then don the items she’d purchased in the lingerie department at Bloomingdale’s. It didn’t take too long, but the results were well worth it. This time when she entered the living room, she looked like a Vargas pinup girl come to life. Mac was waiting for her, looking pretty much like a Playgirl centerfold himself. Ruth had bought him a Valentine’s gift at Bloomie’s and had it laid out on his bed. It was a lounging robe of rich silk jacquard with satin lapels and it was the deep red color of Merlot, which made him look even more ruggedly handsome. And it went beautifully with her outfit, too.
She was wearing a short lace gown with a matching floor-length peignoir in sheer flaming red. She debated about the red satin mules with the marabou feathers, but t
hought what the hell and put them on, too. When she strolled into the room, the sight of Mac in the candlelight took her breath away. The “whatever, whenever” service had accomplished everything she asked and the living room was filled with lit candles and long-stemmed red roses. The incredible voice of Jane Monheit filled the room from the stereo system. There was a tray of fruit and a box of Godiva chocolates, as well as a bottle of champagne, which Mac was pouring into crystal flutes. A slight mishap occurred as he overfilled one of the flutes while he stared at her, but he recovered at once.
They didn’t speak at first; they merely looked at each other. It was hard to say who moved first, but they ended up in each other’s arms, holding on for dear life. One tiny kiss followed another and another until there just wasn’t anything else in the world but the feel of his lips on hers, the taste of his tongue, and the smell of his cologne. When they finally broke the last kiss, Ruth couldn’t resist teasing him. “How do you like your surprise, darling?”
“I love it,” he answered as he picked her up and carried her to the sofa. “You’re going to fill my life with surprises, aren’t you?”
Ruth didn’t answer him right away; she was stroking his chest with one hand and nibbling his ear at the same time. Finally she answered him as her head found the perfect position on his shoulder.
“If that’s what you’d like. Anything you want,” she whispered.
“I want you, honey. And right now I want to see those legs of yours. Stand up, just for a second,” he entreated. Ruth did so, but slowly as she was reluctant to leave the warmth of his arms. She rose gracefully and did a model turn for him, playfully letting the sheer robe slide down her arms so she could remove it and toss it into his lap. She stood before him clad only in the short lace gown and the stiletto-heeled mules, letting him devour her with his heated gaze before modeling the ensemble, allowing him to get his first good look at her long, shapely legs. When he could stand no more he reached out for her and pulled her into his lap. She cupped his face in her hands and teased his lips with the tip of her tongue, tasting them gently and insistently until he opened for her, returning her gentle touches with masterful strokes of his own. They explored each other’s lips while his hand explored the bare expanse of her leg, caressing her calf and rubbing her silken thigh until he reached the most feminine part of her.
Ruth was overwhelmed by desire and shaking with need, wanting him so much she felt she was melting into him. Her hands had found their way under his robe and she felt the hard muscles under the thick, silky hair she’d wanted to touch ever since she’d glimpsed it that morning.
“Julian,” she whispered. “Julian, touch me.”
He was kissing her neck, her collarbone and making his way down to her breasts. Her scent intensified as he continued his passionate discovery of her body, moving his hand from her thigh to her breasts. They filled his hands just perfectly and her nipples began to bloom, engorged with the heated desire he was creating. The strap of the delicate gown slipped off easily and allowed him to access her pliant flesh. When his mouth touched her sensitive tip for the first time, a hot explosion which she had no control over began. His tongue traced her nipple and it grew larger and harder as he took it in his mouth and sucked, gently at first. The motions of his mouth grew stronger and the sensations rippled through her until she began to move in his arms, desperately needing release from the fire building inside her. She cried out, saying his name over and over again and he responded the way she needed him to, putting his hand back on her thigh, but going higher this time, touching her where she wanted to feel him most, stroking the juicy tender jewel between her legs until the gush of sweet liquid signaled her completion.
She clung to Mac’s neck, tasting him with little licks of her tongue as she murmured his name. He returned the caresses, holding her tighter and uttering her name with such tenderness it made big tears roll from her eyes. She gasped softly as he stood up suddenly and carried her into her bedroom. There were candles in there, too, and the bed was already turned down to reveal the rose petals with which the bed was covered. He gently placed her on the bed and lay down next to her, kissing her softly before he licked the fingers he’d used to pleasure her. “That’s why I call you honey” he murmured. “You’re so sweet, Ruth. Sweet to look at, to be with and to taste. And I want to taste you again, but I need something from you first.”
“Anything, Julian. Anything you desire is yours,” she said breathlessly.
“I need your love,” he told her as he lowered his head to hers.
Chapter 8
A week later, Ruth was back in Chicago, but anyone could see she wasn’t herself. She looked the same, albeit with the radiance of a newly wed. She acted the same, attending the book club meeting that was held at Sylvia’s spacious home in the suburbs. But there was an air of distraction about her that Kimmi discerned at once. If there was anything Kimmi was good at, it was ferreting out personal information about other people. Her coworkers were well aware of this proclivity and had learned to gossip keep their mouths shut at their peril. Ruth knew this, too, and tried her level best to act as normally as possible but her veneer of poise was wearing thin, especially after the meeting ended. She was helping tidy up after the ladies left and she could feel Kimmi’s inquisitive eyes following her every movement. Ruth wasn’t aware that she had touched her neck several times during the meeting or she’d have been better prepared for what came next.
She had just closed the door of Sylvia’s dishwasher when Kimmi leaned over and adroitly turned down the neck of Ruth’s sweater. Kimmi and Ruth shrieked at the same time, making Sylvia come out of the dining room with a look of alarm on her face.
“What happened?” she asked anxiously.
Kimmi pointed dramatically at Ruth’s neck. “Hickey! I knew it, I knew that’s why you had on that sweater!”
Ruth straightened the neck of her peach-colored turtle-neck and rolled her eyes in exasperation.
“You little ol’ hoochie. It’s called a passion mark, if you must know, and this is why nobody tells you anything, you nosy little girl,” she said fondly as she snapped a dishtowel at Kimmi.
Sylvia’s eyes lit up with amusement as she looked at the two of them.
“Kimmi, you know grown folks are entitled to some privacy. If Ruth wanted us to know she had an exciting weekend in New York, I’m sure she’d tell us,” she said pointedly.
“Oh, I know that, Sylvia. I really wasn’t trying to be all up in her business,” Kimmi said earnestly before correcting herself. “Well, maybe I sorta kinda was, but I didn’t know people your age could get hickies,” she said with wonder in her voice.
Sylvia and Ruth both started laughing. “You need a keeper, Kim Patrice. I don’t know which is worse, your total irreverence or your complete ignorance! You make me sound like Methuselah’s mama,” Ruth said. “For your information I’m only fifty-four and women a lot older than me continue to have very fulfilled and exciting sex lives,” she scolded.
Kimmi looked innocently repentant. “I didn’t mean you were all dried up or anything. You’re one of the hottest ladies I know, you keep yourself together and that’s for real, for real. But my mother doesn’t do anything like that,” she said. “I just thought it was what older ladies did, ‘cause my mama has no interest in those, umm, activities. She’s just all into church and stuff and she and my daddy never, you know, get busy like that.”
Without even looking at each other, Sylvia and Ruth spoke in perfect unison. “That’s because she was scared she’d get another one like you.”
Kimmi blithely ignored the insult and made a suggestion. “You should put some Vaseline on that, Ruthie. It’ll go away much faster.”
“In that case, maybe I should put some Vaseline on you,” Ruth said dryly.
Luckily, Kimmi had to leave. She never missed choir rehearsal and she freely admitted that she needed the practice. “I’m living proof that all black women can’t sing,” she said ruefully. “But that
doesn’t keep me from making a joyful noise.” She kissed Ruth on the cheek before leaving and apologized for the passion mark episode. “That was my bad, Ruth. I was just excited for you. And you know I’m going to try to pry the details out of you, so just be ready,” she warned as she left to go to rehearsal.
Sylvia’s laughter joined Ruth’s as they left the kitchen and went into the family room. Sylvia’s house was beautiful, a one-story gem with all kinds of custommade details that expressed the personalities of the occupants. Sylvia’s husband, Franco Cardinelli, was a very successful land developer as well as being a very devoted husband. There was nothing on earth he wouldn’t do for his wife and their four children. And his doting behavior also included nine grandchildren, now that the younger Cardinellis were all grown, married and reproducing. He joined them in the family room for a moment on his way to his weekly poker game with his sons. Ruth laughed when he poked his head in the room and looked around like a secret agent on assignment.
“Are they all gone?” he asked in a stage whisper.
“Yes, darling, all the ladies have departed except for Ruth. You’re safe for the moment,” Sylvia said as she held out a graceful hand to him.
Franco liked the members of his wife’s club, but he liked being out of the house when the meetings took place. All the chatter and merriment was wonderful, but they often tried to include him in the discussions and he always felt completely ignorant when they did so. He was a native of Italy whose suave good looks still drew attention wherever he went, but the only woman he had any interest in was his much-adored wife. He came over to claim a kiss from her sexy lips and smiled when Ruth told him what a hit the mini calzones and the gelato had been.
“The pastries were wonderful, too, Franco. I’ve had a cannoli before but the others were to die for,” she said, licking her lips.
“They’re called sfogliatelle” he said, still stroking Sylvia’s neck. “I love to cook, but only for my sweetheart.” He kissed her hand and then said something in Italian that made her giggle madly.
Before the Storm (The Cochran/Deveraux Series Book 9) Page 7