Promoted to Wife (Destiny Bay)

by Conrad, Helen

  “Here it is,” Rick said proudly, helping her aboard his fifty-foot sailing boat.

  She felt more comfortable once they were by themselves. But still there was a new reticence between them.

  “How about some champagne to celebrate?” he asked as he showed her into the luxurious stateroom that held his bed and a small table and chair.

  “At this time of the morning?” she responded, turning around and not sure where to sit.

  “It's a special day,” he answered, pulling a bottle from the little refrigerator in the galley and snagging two fluted glasses to bring along back to the stateroom.

  For some strange reason she couldn't meet his gaze. “I guess it is at that,” she murmured, watching him pour out the golden liquid. As she took the glass from him her hands were trembling, and he noticed.

  Putting the bottle down, he covered her hands with his own. His eyes were deep and dark. “What are you afraid of?” he asked quietly.

  “Nothing at all,” she said with forced gaiety. She raised her glass. “To sunshine,” she toasted irrelevantly.

  Rick frowned. “To sunshine,” he echoed, but she hadn't fooled him. He could see how nervous she was. What he couldn't figure out was why.

  She'd had some experience along these lines and he knew it. Besides their hurried tryst the other night, she'd told him herself about the man she'd lived with. And then there'd been the man on the telephone, the one she'd said “I love you” to.

  The corners of his mouth turned down as he remembered overhearing that conversation. But he hadn't seen a sign of another man in her life since. And if there was one ... His eyes narrowed. He meant to blot him out.

  “Sit down on the bed,” he told her. She sat gingerly and he took the chair, sitting back and watching her with dark eyes. “Read any good books lately?”

  “What?”

  He shrugged. “I'm just trying to put you at ease, help you relax. You look like someone waiting in a dentist's office.”

  She laughed nervously. He was right. She was tight as a drum.

  What, after all, did she know about affairs of this kind? In her whole life there'd only really been one other man, and with him lovemaking had become automatic, a sort of dutiful exercise. She knew it could be much more with Rick—something exciting, longed for. But what if she was wrong?

  Rick was used to so much more. He was used to beautiful, sophisticated women, women adept at the game between the sexes. Experienced women.

  She didn't feel experienced. She felt like an innocent at

  this. And a clumsy one, at that.

  What if she disappointed him this time?

  “More?” he asked, holding out the bottle of champagne.

  “Please,” she answered, her voice hardly above a whisper.

  Biting her lip, she turned away, pretending to look out the small porthole, blinking tears from her eyes. She felt lost, inadequate, hopeless. Why was she doing this if it would only bore him, turn him away in the end?

  She stared at the sunlight beating down on the tiny whitecaps of the restless ocean around them. She knew the answer to her question. She was doing this because she had to. What she felt for Rick was so much more than a physical obsession. She needed him. She needed to express her love.

  What had happened to her fierce independence? What had happened to her plans to stand on her own two feet and show the world she could do it?

  They were still there, she insisted silently as she watched Rick pour still more sparkling wine into her glass. Taking a deep breath, she came to a decision. She was going to treat this just the way Rick would—as a pleasant interlude and nothing more. She would be very careful not to make too much of it.

  Her chin rose. This was playtime for Rick. It could be playtime for her too. She wouldn't make any demands, she wouldn't even ask for temporary emotional commitment. This was purely a physical recreation and she would have to make sure it stayed that way.

  Rick felt as though he could almost read her mind. One conflicting emotion after another was racing across her expressive face. She was rapidly working herself up to do something he wasn't going to like at all. It was time to act.

  Terry looked up, alarmed. Suddenly she realized that Rick had risen from his chair and was taking his clothes off. Panic shot through her.

  “Wait a minute,” she blurted out impulsively. “Hold it.”

  He didn't even pause, his fingers working on the buttons down the front of his shirt.

  Terry swallowed hard. Edging back on her seat, she ran a quick tongue across her lips. She'd had just enough champagne to make her brave. “I'm not sure this is such a good idea after all, Rick.”

  One button after another left its hole. His dark chest was emerging. Eyes cool and jaded, his voice, when he spoke, was low and cynical. “I was wondering when we'd get to that,” he muttered.

  She sat up a bit straighter. “No, I mean it. Really.” She looked around for something to pick up or touch, anything to keep her occupied in some other pursuit than watching Rick undress. “I mean, the other night was one thing, but doing this, now... it would completely change our relationship and I think it would be best if we gave the step more serious thought. Don't you think we ought to reexamine this?”

  He slipped out of his shirt, tossing it behind him without a thought as to where it might land. He began to walk slowly toward where she was sitting. The dull thud of her heartbeat got faster.

  “I mean,” she said quickly, “this is just too unreal, it's like something from another age, like a Victorian novel. ...”

  He stopped, standing right over her, his legs touching her knees. “I love Victorian novels.” And he snapped open his belt, slid it out, and tossed it away.

  Terry's mouth went dry as she stared at the indentation of his navel, just above the waistband of his slacks.

  “This sort of thing,” she managed to say breathlessly, “romances between unequal parties, always comes out badly in Victorian novels. One or the other always has to pay.”

  “I'm ready to pay, Terry,” he told her, shoving off his shoes and kicking them away. “Whatever the price.”

  She stared up at him, eyes wide. “I'm not sure I am,” she whispered. “It's...it's just not right.”

  He sat beside her on the bed and reached for her hand. “Why are you bringing this up again? I thought we were going to forget all this.” The sunlight coming through the porthole shimmered across his bare shoulders.

  His hand was warm on hers. “It's impossible to forget it,” she maintained, trying to ignore his gorgeous body. “It's silly to pretend we're from the same station, that we're equal....”

  He laughed shortly. “Now you really do sound like a Victorian novel.” He touched her hair, then softly kissed her cheek.

  “Rick, I don't think ...”

  He reached down and slipped one sandal from her foot. “That's right,” he said, eyes dark and sure. “Don't think. It only complicates things.”

  She watched, paralyzed, as he slipped the sandal from her other foot, his hand caressing her as he worked. '

  He was so sure of what he was doing. Her gaze couldn't stay away from the copper expanse of his shoulders, so hard, so tight and strong. One hand moved of its own accord and she touched him, drawing in her breath as her fingers came in contact with his smooth, hot skin.

  “Stay with me, my beautiful lady,” he murmured huskily as his lips hesitated over hers. “Don't leave me now.”

  She knew better than to let him kiss her, but somehow she couldn't resist the strength of his temptation. “Rick...” she gasped against his hard mouth as it took hers.

  She felt his hunger, his longing, his demand, and her mind began to spin. She couldn't think any longer. All her misgivings seemed confused. And yet, some deep sense of survival kept her fighting for escape.

  “Rick, let me go,” she moaned, out of breath and reeling.

  “No,” he said harshly, rubbing his rough cheek to her silky one, his eyes closed, h
is breathing ragged. “Not now, Terry.”

  His hand was on her thigh, moving under the skirt of her blue sundress, and she was beyond thought, moving instinctively, struggling to get away from the terror of what his lovemaking would do to chain her to him. Suddenly his fingers hooked on the elastic band of her bikini panties, and as she arched, trying to get away, he slid the filmy garment down over her hips. The next thing she knew, she was staring at it as it circled her ankles. And then, with a flick of his wrist, it was gone.

  She was naked under her sundress, and she'd never felt so vulnerable before in her life.

  “Oh, Rick,” she whispered, her eyes wide and helpless. “I ... I don't...”

  “Trust me, Terry,” he murmured, his hands sliding up her legs beneath the dress. “I won’t hurt you.”

  Her resistance melted. His fingers tantalized with tingling magic, and she moaned, no longer protesting the boldness of his exploration.

  “God, you're so beautiful,” he whispered as he uncovered her to the light. “Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make sure this is right for you.”

  She felt a shudder go through him, and suddenly she realized he was holding back, leashing his desire, for her sake. In that moment she knew she wanted to please him more than she wanted anything else in the world. Wordlessly, she pulled him close, showing him with her body that her doubts had gone.

  He took her invitation at face value. With a sudden movement he pulled her dress down off her shoulders and her breasts spilled out, full and quivering and eager for his touch. His groan was deep and wrenching, and he took her with both hands, pressing her back against the bed, rubbing her nipples high and tight until she gasped with pleasure.

  His naked body was so magnificent, she winced. The long, smooth muscles, the poised control, the untamed potency—everything about him shouted arrogant power, a power she could capture in her hand, in her body, and hold for her own. She stared at him, stunned by his beauty as he lowered himself to her again.

  “I can't wait any longer, Terry,” he growled urgently against her ear, moving, pressing, molding her to him. “Are you ... ?”

  “Love me, Rick,” .she whispered, wrapping him in her smooth legs. “Now... yes, now!”

  Fusing together, they rode it out clutched in each other's arms, gasping at its intensity, awed by a sense of wonder neither had ever felt before.

  Sweet agony. Unbearable need. Wild impatience. And, finally, the crashing surge of fulfillment.

  Moments later Terry was still spinning, dizzy from the passion they'd shared. When she opened her eyes she found Rick leaning over her, smiling down at her. She searched his eyes. What was he thinking? Had he been disappointed in her?

  “Lord, woman,” he said, his voice low and amused. “I knew we'd be good. I didn't know we were destined to write history.”

  It was all right! Joy splintered through her like morning sunbeams. She began to laugh, and he laughed with her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. They laughed long and loud, until they were exhausted, and still they clung together, as though they would never let go again.

  Now they really had something to celebrate, and when they could finally bear to pull apart, Rick got out more champagne and poured their glasses to the brim.

  Both naked, they sat together on the bed and enjoyed the incredible bond of warmth that seemed to flow between them. They knew it was only a matter of time before they would make love again, but they savored the moment for now.

  Neither of them had much to say, but they couldn't stop looking at each other, smiling, touching, as though they'd discovered some new treasure that had been waiting to be found all these weeks, and now they couldn't get over their good fortune.

  A shout roused Terry from her enchantment. She looked out the porthole and saw two men greeting one another with a handshake before moving out of view. Suddenly she realized how close they'd been to the general traffic of the marina.

  Horrified, she turned to Rick. “Do you think we rocked the boat?”

  His grin was full of little-boy delight. “Are you kidding? We rocked the heavens, darling. And just incidentally, I'm sure we also rocked the boat.”

  She bit her lip and glanced out the porthole. “Do you

  think anyone saw us?”

  “If they were looking.” He chuckled when she reddened at his words. “What do you think they assumed we were coming out here for, to teach you navigation?”

  She laughed, and he laughed, and he reached out to touch the tip of her breast, and in moments they were down on the bed again, preparing to rock the boat, and she didn't care a bit.

  This time their lovemaking was slow and sensuous. Rick handled her as though she were made of something precious and breakable—until she demanded firmer treatment. But through it all, she felt loved, protected. Almost worshiped. And when they were lying side by side, spent again, there were tears in her eyes.

  He was almost too much, too wonderful. He was spoiling her for the real world. But she loved him and she couldn't imagine ever loving anyone else. That was her fate.

  She was crazy in love with him and she knew it was hopeless. She closed her eyes and tried to squeeze the sadness back. She knew he wasn't hers to keep. He belonged to a different world beyond her reach. She was a fool to love him. But she couldn’t help it.

  Rick was staring at the teak ceiling, filled with an emotion he'd never had before. He wasn't sure what it was, he only knew he wanted to do something to keep Terry by his side, to show the world that she was his and his alone. There was a fierce possessiveness growing inside him, and he had an impatient urge to act on it.

  He wanted to marry her.

  He'd never wanted to marry a woman this way before in his life. Even with Claire it had been a partly a duty rather than a need. He'd gone along with it because he’d been crazy about her and it had seemed like the right thing to do, the time to marry, and he'd had no more pressing plans. Every other woman in his life had been connected with him so casually, he could hardly remember their names. He'd assumed most of his life that he was incapable of anything deeper.

  And now this. He wanted to marry Terry. He felt slightly dizzy when he looked at her. What was she going to say when he told her?

  “Hey,” he said, pulling her around to face him. “How do you feel?”

  His smile was irresistible.

  “Like a princess,” she murmured teasingly, “whose frog turned into a handsome prince after all.”

  He laughed and dug his fingers into her thick hair. She was so adorable. He was determined to lock her up, to tie her to him.

  “Grow your hair long for me, Terry,” he murmured, tugging on it. “I'll put you in a tower, like Rapunzel, and keep you all for myself.”

  My lover, he thought to himself. My wife.

  “I'll ride into the forest and call your name and you'll lower your long beautiful hair for me to climb.” He nipped at her ear. “And then we'll make magnificent love and I'll hold your heart captive, like a small wild bird. ...”

  Terry smiled back, but his words had conjured up a sudden picture she didn't like. She knew that a lot of rich men kept mistresses in expensive apartments in the city, sitting alone and waiting for their “man” to spare them a moment of time, living for nothing else. She wouldn't be surprised to find out that Rick had done things like that before himself.

  But not with her, she thought fiercely. She was nobody's love slave. The Rapunzel image didn't fit with her sense of self.

  “Haven't you heard?” she said back, being careful to maintain the light, teasing tone. “Rapunzel’s joined the modern age. She's been climbing down the castle wall herself to picket for equal rights for princesses.” She gave him a playful punch in the ribs. “You may come riding out and find only a rope escape ladder hanging where Rapunzel's hair ought to be.”

  Rick stared at her. He thought she knew what he'd been implying when he'd compared her to Rapunzel. Surely she could tell how he felt, how much he wanted to
bind her more closely. She'd understood, and she'd turned the Rapunzel image around to tell him subtly that it would never do-—that she didn't want to be tied down.

  For just a moment her eyes reminded him of his ex-wife's and he flinched. Her rejection hit him like a slap in the face, and something hard and cold closed around his heart.

  But he wasn't about to come out into the open with it. “How about Sleeping Beauty, then?” he suggested lightly. “And you come awake only when I kiss you.”

  “How about Little Red Riding Hood?” she countered, flirting with her eyes. “Somehow I see you more as a Big Bad Wolf than as any of those wimpy princes.”

  He laughed, though there was a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. She didn't want to be tied down to marriage. He knew that. But he wanted her. And he was just selfish enough to go after what he wanted. “The smart money's on me,” he muttered to himself.

  “What?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

  “How about a swim?” he said to cover his tracks. Rising from the bed, he held out a hand to her.

  “In bathing suits?” she asked as she let him pull her up.

  “Unfortunately, I think we'd better,” he answered, smiling at her. He pulled her close and filled his hand with her breast. “Swimming nude would bring about a bit more comment than rocking the boat ever could.”

  He kissed her hard, a kiss full of regret and anger as well as passion, and she felt the new elements, but couldn't analyze them. They swam and rested and ate at a wonderful restaurant and came back to the boat and made love again. It was dawn before they fell asleep, and noon before they made it back to Mar Vista. It had been a wonderful day, but it was time to get back to the real world.

  CHAPTER TEN:

  Koalas Need Mothers Too

  “Are you a mommy?” Jeremy's eyes looked hopeful.

  Terry hid a smile. “No, I'm not.”

  The little boy sighed and picked up his koala bear. “That's too bad. I need a mommy. Aunt Julia said so.”

  Terry turned from her list-making and looked at him. “Did she tell you that?”