by Mari Freeman
Liza felt her own laughter starting deep in her chest at the memory of trying out the new toy. “I mean, when I looked at the other options, I wondered what on earth women would want with a remote-control-operated vibrator. Now I know.” She reached over and took her laughing friend’s wrist. “And for God’s sake, do not use it when you have company in the house. The motor on that thing’s louder than my hair dryer. I swear.”
Liza thought about Blake, the way his face looked during orgasm, and realized no matter how many buttons or how nice the rotating beaded shaft, a vibrator was no replacement for the feel of a man between her thighs. The new toy was no better than her old-fashioned vibrator. Oh, it did the work, and in a few minutes she could have an orgasm. But the feel of flesh and the weight of a real man would never be replaced by plastic and batteries.
If only she could trust that a real man—like Blake Dean—wouldn’t abandon her in the long run. If she thought for a second he would understand her need to be in control of most everything in her life and not see it as being bitchy, then maybe.
Becky stood as people started arriving for the ceremony. “The guests are here. I’ll make sure the staff is ready. I expect you to order Mr. Perfect and have him on my desk this week. I’ll take that as my bonus for the weekend.”
Liza laughed again. “I’ll buy you one, but I think you’ll be just as disappointed as I was.”
“Maybe it would be better if someone else was working the controls.” She winked as she turned and left.
Liza chuckled then shivered as she thought of Blake between her knees, teasing and playing with the controls of the Beaded Bunny. She could see his face as he concentrated on the controls and the reactions the different settings brought from her body. The first of the guests interrupted her daydreams as they started milling into the yard and the tent.
She looked around at the decorations. All put together, it rivaled any other wedding she’d ever planned, if you looked past the theme. She smiled to herself and headed into the house.
Bobbie was squealing as Liza entered the suite of rooms she was using as the dressing area for the wedding party. “Get him out of here, Blakely!” Blake stood looking impish, with a pug tucked under his arm. “It’s bad luck for the bride to see the groom before the ceremony. And why don’t you have the pants on?”
Liza snickered as she noticed Blake had opted for black jeans and black ostrich boots instead of the tuxedo pants that Becky had ordered custom-made. His jaw tightened. “Mother, I am not wearing pants that have pugs all over them. It’s bad enough to be best man to a drooling dog.”
“Ms. DeLane will have your hide.”
Liza stepped fully into the room. “I think Ms. DeLane will get over it.” Blake looked up and smiled.
Bobbie fluffed the tulle veil that was hanging dangerously close to Penelope’s slobber-covered mouth. “Still, he won’t match. Blakely, honey, this is important.”
Pedro shook in Blake’s arm and sent a string of goo onto his crisp, starched shirt. “Shit.”
“Blakely, stop your cursing and go clean that up. And change your pants. We’ll be ready in a few minutes.” He grumbled and backed out of the room, trying to keep the squirming pooch still while wiping off his lapel. He stopped long enough to tip his black felt hat to Liza and give her a dazzling grin. Man, he looked good in a cowboy hat.
“Thank you, Ms. DeLane, for not having my hide.” Blake winked and backed out of the room as Pedro whined. Liza had to fight with all her will to not correct him and say something about how she had enjoyed that hide very much.
“Honestly,” Bobbie huffed as she gathered up Penelope. “You’d think I asked the boy to wear a dress. Are we ready, hon?”
Liza shook off the effects of that grin and the comment and gazed out the window overlooking the festivities. “As soon as he gets the groom downstairs. It’s an excellent turnout. You should be able to make a considerable donation.”
Bobbie glanced out the window over her shoulder. “Thanks to you.”
The pug squirmed unexpectedly in Bobbie’s arms and she dropped little Penelope. The dog squeaked and headed for the door, her veil taking the brunt of the damage as her pink painted toenails dug into the tulle. “Silly puppers! Come here, sweet bear.” Bobbie scrambled after the dog, knocking the rest of the bride’s veil to the ground. “Liza, be a dear.”
Liza picked up the diamond collar and attempted to attach it around what she supposed was the dog’s neck. The custom wedding dress was bunched up and the wiggly, drooling pup wanted no part of the attentions of the two women. “Pen-Pen! Hold still. I’ve never seen such a nervous bride. Have you, Liza?”
Liza couldn’t help but giggle. The dog stopped at the sound of her owner’s voice and appeared to be waiting for Liza’s answer. “No, I don’t believe I have, Mrs. Dean.” They managed to get the veil and tiara attached and adjusted with a little more effort.
Bobbie reached over unexpectedly and patted Liza’s cheek. “You’re a dear. I hope to see you around more.”
* * * * *
The nuptials went off without too much trouble. The bride and groom were more than ready to start their honeymoon and had little patience for the trappings of the ceremony. Bobbie lost her grip on the bride and the little hussy attacked the groom before the “I do’s” had been said. The episode added the last touch of whimsy that the occasion needed. The guests all seemed to enjoy it and only a few of the men looked overly bored. Blake did his best to play his part and not make mocking gestures, even if he had ignored his mother’s request to put the pug pants on.
Liza watched it all from the sidelines, as she did most of the parties she put together. She was not a guest but part of the staff, and made a conscious effort not to let herself get too carried away by the smiles and niceties to think otherwise. She worked for these people, no different from the girl passing out bone-shaped chocolate-cherry truffles. The suit she wore was expensive, but was still a uniform.
She watched as Blake moved in and out of the crowd, talking easily with the elite of Dallas. Ladies’ eyes watched him as he moved, batting eyelashes, touching his arm when they spoke. He graciously accepted their attentions, wearing his arrogance easily as he moved from guest to guest. She wondered what it would be like to be so confident, to move with such ease through a crowd. How would it feel to fit in so easily with anyone you came across? Blake was so stunningly confident, and he had every right to be. The man was polished, educated and gorgeous. Why wouldn’t he fit in no matter where he went?
* * * * *
Liza scanned the crowd, watching for anything the guests might need. The dinner tables were long gone and the dance floor was packed with slightly drunken socialites. Bobbie was dancing in the middle of the floor. She was holding both the pugs, one wrapped under each arm, still in their wedding costumes. Overly red lipstick accentuated Bobbie’s bright smile.
Becky joined her. “Another job well done, boss lady. Totals are coming close to two hundred thousand. That’s a lot of neuters.”
“Ouch. They do a lot more than neutering at the SPCA, you know.” She looked at Becky. “You’re the reason this was a success.” Becky shook her head to deny Liza’s praise. “I think next week we need to talk seriously about partnership. You run half this business anyway. You should be getting more benefit from it.” Becky looked at her, mouth open, eyes big. “Close your mouth and say thank you.”
“I really don’t know what to say.” Becky hugged her.
“I told you what to say.” Really, she owed her friend much more than that. Becky had been trying to put a mirror in front of her face for a long time. Liza had buried her life in her work but a fat bankbook was a bad replacement for happiness.
“Thanks.” Becky’s smile turned sly. “Blake really looks good in those black jeans doesn’t he?”
“You don’t stop, do you?”
“Nope.”
One of the waitstaff called Becky away and Liza scanned the party again. Said black jeans were nowhere in sight.
Lingering by one of the bars, she idly sipped champagne that had bubbled out of the side of a fire-hydrant-shaped ice sculpture. The band slowed the tempo and couples took over the dance floor. Liza watched as lovers young and old swayed together, laughing and kissing.
Blake handed his father a beer as Mr. Dean sauntered up to a bar on the other side of the lawn, then glanced over to his mother, still beaming and laughing with her friends on the dance floor. Penelope and Pedro had just been tucked into their newly built three-hundred-square-foot dog mansion in the garden.
As the two men stood together, Blake noticed that his father’s eyes roamed the room constantly, but always landed back on his mother. The woman wore her hair in an outdated puffy uplift of some sort, her clothes were bright—no, loud—and she was outspoken and funny, all in stark contrast to the man standing next to him. Gerald Dean was a quiet, intellectual cowboy, wearing a tuxedo with pugs on the pants.
Liza walked across the far end of the tent. Gerald chuckled as Blake watched her every move. “You know, son, when I met your mother, I thought to myself, ‘Now that’s a fine-looking woman’.” He glanced at his son and back to Bobbie. She was laughing, the sound of her joy rising above the music. “But, once I kissed her, well…let’s just say I was hooked. I asked her to marry me on our second date. Haven’t looked back since.”
Blake nodded, understanding. He’d known last night he was hooked and Liza DeLane would be his. He was tired of the manipulative games of most of the Dallas society set. He loved reading history books and fancied that his dating life was not very different from that of some duke in regency England, except in his case, instead of delicate flowers, society mommas pushed their over-bleached, fake-boobed daughters at him every chance they got. Many of the older, married socialites had thrown themselves at him as well. He was tired of the superficiality and the not-so-secret agendas of the Dallas elite. He wanted the real thing. Wanted to look at his wife years from now and have the same look of satisfaction his father carried.
He looked over to Liza again—there was no denying he wanted her.
“That one,” Gerald gestured toward Liza with his beer bottle. “I’ve worked with her for five, maybe six years now. I’ve never seen that woman let one little detail fall through the cracks. That’s why we’ve done so much business with her. She controls everything and everyone around her. Damn fine qualities for a business partner.”
Blake pulled his hat off, ran a hand through his hair then shoved his hat back down. Gerald kept talking, ignoring his son’s sudden discomfort. “A woman needs that kind of control for a reason, son. Doesn’t matter what it is. If you want to get past it, you’re going to have to show her she can trust you. Yep. That one needs to trust her man. Chocolate hearts and flowers aren’t going to do it.”
Blake set his beer down and put his hands in his pockets, shuffling his feet before picking the beer back up and taking a long, slow swig. He rocked back on his heels and rubbed his chin, before turning back to his father. The man hadn’t changed in Blake’s eyes in all these years. His complexion was as dark as Blake’s regardless of time spent in the office, but his eyes were steel blue instead of dark brown. He was still well built from his time working on the ranch. The only thing that truly showed his age was a hint of gray hair at the temples and a few lines that outlined his eyes. Blake admired him on so many levels and trusted his judgment. “And how do I do that?”
“Haven’t got a clue.” He laughed as his son’s face fell. “It’ll come to ya, boy.” He clapped him on the shoulder and headed toward the crowd and a dancing Bobbie Dean.
* * * * *
“You know, I’ve been trying to catch the eye of a very hot woman this evening and she’s pretty much ignored me.”
Liza didn’t have to turn to know who that rugged voice belonged to. He moved up behind her. The heat from his body out-burned the humid Texas night, his breath a mere flutter across the little hairs on the back of her neck. She should walk away now, while there was time to keep Blake Dean at a comfortable distance, while she still had her control. Having him this close made her palms sweat, her body hum. The logical part of her brain protested, urged her to turn and run for the hills, but her body had firmly decided to stay where it was.
She giggled. “The woman’s a certifiable fool. My suggestion, cowboy…ditch her, and let’s you and me go see what’s in that garden.”
He leaned down and pressed a single wispy kiss to her neck. “Do I get to take that hair down?”
She smiled and tipped her head to the side, giving him better access. “You’re easy to please.”
Warm, soft lips skimmed her neck as he made his way to her ear. Goose bumps spread over her back, making her tighten her grip on her champagne glass.
“I wouldn’t count on it.” The low, gravel-filled taunt made her close her eyes.
No, he’d not be easy to please. And Liza didn’t think she could give him what he would ultimately want.
* * * * *
It had been a year or so since he’d even been in his old room. His mother had redecorated it, but many of his old things were still there. Team roping buckles and football trophies accented the bookshelves and the college portrait still hung above his desk. He ushered Liza past the old photos, pushed open the French doors that opened onto a balcony and was pleased to find the furniture still there. He led her out and watched her face as she took in the view.
Below them, across two formal gardens and a swimming pool, the party was still in full swing. Far enough away that they were completely alone, but close enough that they could se the twinkling lights of the gazebo and the tents. And beyond that lay only big, open Texas sky, an ocean of midnight purple and sparkling stars no amount of party planning could have conjured. The band had switched to sultry jazz that drifted in the humid air. Blake set down the bottle of champagne and glasses he’d grabbed on their way up as Liza moved to the rail.
Blake moved in closely behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I loved hanging out on this balcony when I was younger.”
Liza stiffened. He’d grown up with all this. She’d been shuffled from foster home to foster home, never knowing where she’d be dumped or when. She leaned back, laying her head on his chest and squeezing her eyes shut, attempting to relax. He pressed closer, his body warm and solid behind hers. She fit there perfectly against his chest. Her ear rested just over his heart. She wanted this, wanted him. She just didn’t know how to let herself believe in it, believe in him without the overwhelming fear.
Blake felt her tremble against him. Never had he felt such a strong connection with a woman. He didn’t completely understand it, but he knew that he and Liza were in it for the long haul. He just needed to settle the filly down enough to convince her of that.
“Tell me Liza,” Blake asked as he stroked her hair. “What is it that makes you push so hard?”
Liza gave him a questioning look over her shoulder.
“Dad tells me you’re a perfectionist. I see it too. I also see a hint of fear in those beautiful eyes. Who hurt you?” He felt her stiffen at his words, and kissed her head and ran his fingers over her shoulders to ease her, to let her know he was with her. He didn’t want to scare her. He needed her to open to him. He wanted her to trust, to let herself go completely.
The feel of her body against him was heaven. His father was right. He had no problem imagining that years from now he would be the one smiling over a dance floor as Liza danced. Know that he would still be as in love as he felt right this minute. He didn’t understand how it could be so strong so fast, but he trusted it. Blake had always trusted his gut instincts. Following his gut had never once let him down. He was not about to ignore it this time.
He ran his fingers up her arms, raising goose bumps on her skin and drawing a small shudder from her. Those reactions to his touch pleased him greatly.
“What is it Liza wants out of life?”
Liza looked back over her shoulder, surprised by the inquiry. “Th
at’s a hard thing to answer.”
“Try.” He didn’t ask. His tone commanded her to think on it and answer.
She shifted her weight, brushing her ass against his strong thighs. They both shuddered slightly at the movement. It didn’t help her concentration. “Well, I want what most people want.” She knew that would not be enough for him.
He brushed the back of her neck with those big fingers and followed the sensation with a light brush of the lips. “But you’re not most people. Tell me what you want.”
Liza had to draw in a deep breath to concentrate. Her thoughts were all spinning around in her head and she was unable to draw a single thing out. Warm lips then traced the curve of her shoulder. She had to lean farther into him to steady her knees.
“Family, children?” he asked, the words a breath on her skin.
“To feel safe.”
Blake froze at the simple three-word response. It touched him. The pleading in her voice told him things that days of conversation would never reveal. He knew she had some issues with her past and worked hard to make sure she was financially independent and strong, but she wanted protection and love more than money—and he was just the man to provide both.
He’d fantasized about pushing Liza DeLane’s buttons, but he hadn’t imagined trust would be the biggest. Not only a need to trust him to be there for her, but also to trust him to understand her need for control. And he needed to push a little at that trust. To let her see that if she put herself in his hands, she’d not only be okay, but there were pleasant rewards for such trust. It would take time, but he was patient and he had an idea. Wild fillies were his expertise.
“I’ll be back in a minute. Get another glass of the bubbly.” He retreated before she had a chance to argue.
Liza poured another glass, knowing she shouldn’t. She shouldn’t be drinking anymore and shouldn’t be putting herself in a position for disappointment with the unpredictable Blake Dean. Cursing her lack of willpower over either, she sipped and listened to the echoes of laughter and music from the party in the distance.