by Sun Chara
“No-o, thank you.” She waved them on, air whizzing between her teeth.
“You coming or not?” Peter called to her while King investigated a maple trunk. “If you don’t, you’ll forfeit the wager.”
“No way.” She may not want to keep company with either man or beast, but she wouldn’t forfeit the bet and the sense of control that came with winning. Slapping her hands on her thighs, she stood and marched right passed them.
Ellie kept on walking until she was several feet ahead of them, then screwed up her face. Peter had been quick to agree to her leaving prior to three weeks if the wager went her way. Was he tired of her already? Did he want to appease his conscience with this interval? Say, he had tried to save his marriage to gain empathy?
The Board elections would be over by then and having served her purpose as the ‘good doctor’s wife’ for this round of political power plays, he’d have no further need of her. She tilted her chin. Well, she had her own agenda; rerouting her life on a new and exciting direction.
No doubt, Peter would secure the Chairmanship. Might not be an easy task, but he welcomed the challenge. Relentless in his pursuit of what he wanted, he succeeded. Wasn’t that why he chased after her and brought her back, for appearances sake to cover all his bases?
She’d make his success work for her too, and leave with her conscience clear to pursue her dream. A stitch at her side warned that it might not be as simple as she imagined. She shrugged it off.
First thing would be to call Louie, get herself reinstated in The Blue Room, and go from there. That could be in just three days if she came out on top with this bet. Tremors ran through her. Was it excitement or dread?
Pondering her own query, Ellie strolled to the shoulder of the trail and peered over the pine trees at the Pacific Ocean in the distance. “This is a priceless view of Malibu Beach.”
“Yeah,” Peter said, staring at her. Her leggings were molded to her legs, her sweater hugged her derriere and a sunbeam glinted off the crown of her head. A raw, primitive urge shot through him. He wanted to stomp behind her, cup her with his hands and nuzzle her nape with his mouth, his tongue … He feigned a cough. “Ellie, watch your step.”
“Hey, a sailboat.” She stood on tiptoe and pointed toward the horizon. “Looks like a toy from up here.”
“You’re too close to the edge.” He strode nearer. “It might—”
The earth caved beneath her feet and she screamed.
“Ellie!” Peter dived for her but King rammed him aside, leaped up and knocked her back onto solid ground.
“Wha-at happened?” Shaken, she snapped her lashes open and stared into the dog’s golden-brown eyes. King had her pinned to the ground, his paws on her chest, growling his reprimand. She shut her eyes, and a shrill sound erupted from her lungs, echoing in the wooded glen.
“Good, boy.” Peter seized the dog by the collar and pulled him off her. Grabbing her hand, he hauled her to her feet, and the abrupt motion slammed her hard against his chest.
She clutched his shoulders, tears of relief brimming on her lashes.
“King saved you from a serious tumble over the cliff.” The thought of what nearly happened and with him not two feet from her, cut into him like a scalpel. He sucked in a breath and gripped her shoulders. “You nearly gave me a heart—” The remainder of his words lodged in his throat, his mouth on hers, the adrenaline rush fueling him.
He tasted her sweetness and her fear. When she whimpered, he soothed with his tongue. Slow strokes inside her mouth over and over until he sensed panic dissipate and desire flare. He deepened the kiss, his lips more demanding. She sighed into his mouth and slid her tongue over his, initiating another erotic duel.
His heart pumped blood at record speed. He was hot, he was sweaty, and he was aroused. He’d be taking her smack in the middle of the trail if he didn’t put the brakes on. A fevered moment and he tore his mouth away from hers, pressed her head to his shoulder, and brushed her hair with a slightly unsteady hand.
Ellie remained in his embrace until her breathing regulated. When she did pull away, she brushed her moist palms on her thighs, and King slurped at her knuckles. She jumped and a cry burst from her.
“He’s giving you a kiss too, glad you’re okay.” Peter rifled in his pocket for a biscuit and handed it to her. “Give it to him, a thank you.”
She remained immobile. “You give it to him.”
“No can do.”
The Doberman watched her and with his tongue hanging out, waited. A tense moment, and Peter slapped the biscuit in her hand. “Give.”
She licked her lips, gulped down her nervousness, and after a hesitant moment, offered the treat to the dog. King took a tentative step closer, and then another, and she quickly tossed it to him. “Thank you, dog.”
“King.”
“King.”
The dog wolfed down the biscuit and lifted his head, waiting for another.
“Name suits him,” she said.
“Yes.”
Peter put another biscuit in her hand and, without thinking, she extended it to the dog. The animal jumped for it and without touching her fingers, crunched it.
A nervous giggle slid off her tongue. “He carries himself like royalty.” She glanced at her husband and a faint smile tugged at her mouth. “Like his owner.”
Peter grinned. “Don’t know what you’re talking ’bout, woman.” He guided her back to the Mercedes with the dog loping between them. “You’ve made a friend for life.”
Ellie faltered in her step. “So, I have.” And realized, in doing so, she’d lost the bet. She pressed her fingers upon her lips still tingling from his kiss, a reminder that his heat had speared through her fear. She trembled at the thought of what might have happened if King hadn’t knocked her to safety. A sliver of apprehension lingered, but it was the sexual tension vibrating between her and Peter that made her snatch her breath.
In that brief moment in his arms, she tasted his passion and something else. His own fear? Uncertainty? Anger? Whichever it was, it meant Peter wasn’t as indifferent to her as he made out. Her feather-light smile turned into a satisfied grin.
Peter was settling the brute in the front seat, and she peered at him from beneath her lashes.
That little bit of sensual knowledge could come in handy in the days to follow. Huh! you were like a ripe plum in his hands, girlie, the voice in her head taunted. If he hadn’t rammed the brakes on that kiss, you’d be rolling on the grass beneath that poplar, half undressed— Hardly! But deep inside her, she knew it to be true and blushed.
In a huff, she flounced in the back seat of the auto. Okay, this round went to him, but it was by no means over. She’d yet have him eating out of her hand. A satisfied sound gurgled from her throat, and Peter raised an eyebrow at her. “I’ll look forward to our… er… dinner date, Peter.”
“An event to remember.”
“Will it be?” she asked.
He winked. “I’ll make sure of it.” He shut the door and sauntered to the driver’s seat, a smug look on his face.
Peter—the distinguished neurosurgeon, smug?
Her pulse leaped, and she bit her lip. Definitely, she’d have to rethink her strategy.
Chapter 10
“That was lovely,” Ellie said, setting the fork on her near-empty plate.
“Best chicken in salsa al vino here.” Peter smiled, pushing back his plate.
“I remember.” She blotted her mouth with the linen napkin.
“You do?” He picked up his wine glass and sipped, his eyes steady on her face, wondering what she was thinking about him … about them.
Earlier that evening, she’d glided down the stairs in that sexy number of a dress, the neckline dipping to the swell of her breasts, the deep-blue fabric hugging her curvy bod. The silk flowed down her legs and flared at her feet, skimming her matching pumps. When she paused by the chandelier in the foyer, light glimmered on her shoulders and made her hair shine.
; He’d manhandled the back of a chair to stop from stepping up, slinging her over his shoulder, and heading back upstairs, dinner forgotten in lieu of the dessert in front of him. He grinned. The material tucked at her waistline made her appear so tiny, he figured he could span her with his hands. Then, he drew his brows over the bridge of his nose; or had she lost weight without him realizing it?
“Yes.” She fingered the checkered napkin in her lap, before patting it smooth. “Can’t you tell?” She chuckled, pointing to her plate.
“Glad you enjoyed it.” Man, he was fumbling for words like a teenager out on his first date.
“I guess I was hungrier than I thought.”
“Good.” Not as hungry as I’m feeling, he thought, taking in her luscious appearance.
“All that exercise—”
“Yeah.” He watched her over the rim of his wine glass. Her hair was swept up in a type of knot at the nape of her neck— it was beyond him how she’d managed to fasten it like that. A few wisps caressed her temples. If he leaned in just a few inches to whisper in her ear, he’d feel silk across his lips and smell the scent of her shampoo.
He raised the goblet to his mouth. She brushed a loose curl behind her ear and bumped the sapphire earring dangling from her earlobe. Elegant plus. His temperature was rising. Images of action moves they could indulge in after dinner flooded his mind. He gulped down the remainder of his drink and set the glass on the table. “Dance?”
The Italian bistro’s dance floor was filling up. A melody beckoned and Ellie glanced about her. Attentive waiters in tight-fitting black-and- white uniforms flitted between candle-lit tables. The mural across one wall depicted Venice gondoliers serenading couples touring the famed canals of the magical city. Ambiance—the ultimate in romance.
For Ellie, the intimate setting spelled danger. It was here at the Cucina Italiano that Peter had proposed to her five years ago. Reliving the past wouldn’t help with the future she was after. She felt a pang, but shrugged it off. To conquer it, she had to confront it.
“Yes.” She set her napkin on the small table and pinned a smile on her lips. It could be their last dance. The pang cut deep. She ignored it.
Peter pushed his chair back and, taking her hand, pulled her to her feet. Her eyes collided with his. High voltage crackled between them. She could hardly breathe. He stroked his thumb along the curve of her cheek and then guided her onto the floor.
She melted in his arms, her head upon his shoulder, the fabric of his jacket rough beneath her cheek. His touch unleashed fantasies she’d kept bound up inside her for the past three months. She swayed with him to the sensuous rhythm, imagining how wonderful this would be if it were real.
This was a stolen moment. She’d be smart to remember that.
The song seduced. For these few minutes, she’d pretend he was her Prince Charming and she his princess … he was her knight in shining armor, her champion, and she his lady. Behind his back she curled her fingers in a fist. Not the driven man who’d risen to the top and wasn’t about to let up, even at the dissolution of their marriage. Her nails dug into her palms. How high was the top for Peter? She opened her hands and spanned his back, feeling his strength beneath her fingers. For tonight, she’d pretend he was not the ruthless, cunning man who’d become her provider and she his prize.
Peter brushed his lips across her temple and acute sensation tingled through her. She reached up and caressed the nape of his neck, his heat a catalyst to emotion surging inside her. For this one night, Ellie danced with the man of her dreams.
Having forgone a tie, he was dressed in navy slacks, his white shirt beneath his jacket unbuttoned halfway to his waist. Dark hair sprang from his chest. She was tempted to slide her hand inside, follow with her mouth to kiss, taste, lick. She missed her footing and fumbled the step.
“Steady there,” he murmured in her ear. His breath laced with a hint of wine, teased the sensitive area, scrambling her insides.
She nodded, unable to utter a word, for fear it’d give her reaction to him away. Prickles of awareness shot through her and—
A riotous couple jostled them and Ellie’s fantasy splintered. The band played the final note on a crescendo, followed by a millisecond of silence, and then applause erupted around them.
“Thank you, Peter.”
“My pleasure.” He kept his hand on the small of her back and escorted her back to their table. “What say we have coffee at home?”
“Yes,” she said, glad to get away from the romantic atmosphere.
While Peter paid the bill and retrieved her wrap, Ellie gripped her evening bag so tight the sequins imprinted marks on her fingertips. She cast him a surreptitious glance. Why had he chosen to bring her here? Was it to show her that memories didn’t move him? Or to signal they’d come full circle and time for closure of their life, their marriage?
“Will you be warm enough in this?” He placed the light wrap across her shoulders, his fingers feathering the nape of her neck.
A quiver shot through her and fine down on the back of her neck stood on end. “Ye-es, thanks.” She placed her hand on the crook of his arm and they strolled outside just as the valet drove up with the Mercedes.
*
After Peter had lit the fireplace in the den, he tossed his jacket on the sofa, rolled up his sleeves, and manned the bar. “Café mocha with a dash of Kahlua?”
“Mmm, a very small dash.” She needed her wits about her. Chemistry between them had always been magnetic and tonight she felt caught in the force field of that attraction.
He chuckled. “Just the way you like it.”
“With whipped cream and oodles of chocolate sprinkles.” She laughed and wondered if he could hear the slight strain in her voice.
Memories flashed through her mind of earlier, happier times together.
“You bet.”
“Yum.”
He pressed the button on the blender and the whirring sound suffocated his next words. “Yum is right, mia bella.” Flipping two crystal glasses into his palms from the shelf beneath the counter, he set them on top and filled them with chocolate liquid.
“Smells heavenly.”
“Heaven it will be, cara mia.” He squirted an extra blob of whipping cream on hers and showered it with chocolate shavings.
Her head shot up at his words. Was he up to something? Her mind seemed fuzzy. Not from wine, she rarely imbibed, but from the warmth of the room and the feeling of wellbeing permeating through her. Questions struggled to get through this lull in her thinking, but she kept them at bay. Flames in the grate tantalized and she stepped closer. Somehow, she managed to curl down on the carpet; a difficult feat in her tight-fitting dress.
“Here you are, principessa.” Peter offered her the cocktail and adjusting his pant leg slightly, lowered himself down beside her. “Just the way you like it.” He bent one knee, rested his arm on it, and held his cup with his other hand.
Ellie cradled the cup between her palms, warmth soothing her hands and rich cocoa flavor tempting her. She raised it to her lips, licked whipping cream with the tip of her tongue and felt like she was tasting the forbidden.
She chanced a glance at Peter before her eyelids dipped to half-mast. Testosterone seemed to ooze from his every pore. A pocket of air wedged in her throat and a bead of moisture trickled between her breasts. He’d pampered her, especially after a night of sensual pleasures. In the morning, she found some bauble, some trinket on her pillow. He showered her with such a wealth of gifts she’d begun to feel more like a kept woman than his wife.
Chocolate flavor in her mouth turned bittersweet.
Ellie yearned to be a wife in every sense of the word and not just in bed. But Peter’s demanding work schedule left him so exhausted that when he came home, all he wanted to do was play … with her … and leave the world beyond the mansion out.
She had become so isolated in her gilded castle that when Peter globetrotted to symposiums expostulating the wonders of medical science
, she felt like the fairytale princess locked up in her palace. But for Ellie, the Prince didn’t come to her rescue, he was the one unwittingly imprisoning her.
Her mouth drooped at the corners. Although he telephoned her, it was always on the run between engagements. From every place he traveled, he sent her a present, two, ten … when all she wanted was him; to be a part of his life and share her life, her dreams with him.
She reclined against the arm of the sofa and stretched her legs in front of her on the thick carpet. Thoughts of what might have been mocked, and she pushed them far back in her mind. If all she had with her husband was this one night, then she’d take it. Add it to her collection of memorabilia. A tremulous smile flitted across her lips. She raised the goblet to her mouth and took another sip of the sweet concoction.
“Mmm, this is tastier than I thought.” She licked white froth from her top lip with the tip of her tongue. “It’s really good.”
“Let me.” Peter set his drink on the floor, then took hers and placed it beside his.
“I can do—”
“You missed a spot.” Peter flicked cream from her mouth with his fingertip and placed it in his mouth. “Mmm, sweet.”
“Yes,” she breathed, a shallow sound.
“Ellie.” He leaned closer and his words fanned her cheek, his chocolate-laced breath tantalizing her mouth. Flicking his tongue out, he licked the remaining cream from her lip. “I want some more.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Me-e, too.”
In a millisecond, he plundered her mouth, his tongue gliding over hers, initiating a seductive tango in her mouth. She matched his fervor and tasted passion, vulnerability, longing.
“Ellie,” he breathed into her mouth.
“Peter, my l—”
He smothered her declaration with his lips and gently pushed her on the carpet, half lying on top of her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and, drawing him closer, swept her fingers through his hair.
He trailed his hand across the curve of her bare shoulder, along her collarbone, his thumb caressing the pulse point at her throat. Every spot his fingers stroked, he followed with his mouth, finally settling on her cleavage. He slid the blue silk down her arms, until her breasts filled his palms. Groaning he lowered his head, grazing the nipple with his teeth. A purr worked its way up from deep in her throat. He stroked her other breast with slightly trembling fingers until her nipple puckered. Then, he switched and drew it fully into his mouth, suckling … sweet torture.