Behind the Red Doors

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  Jamie stepped out of the hallway into the well-lit mezzanine. The boutiques and coffee bar would remain open for another hour to catch the after-work shoppers. She glanced inside The Diamond Mine where Faith was helping a customer. Because Faith wasn’t available to talk, Jamie went into Heaven Scent to pick up a small vial of patchouli oil to create the blend she had in mind.

  Although she’d suggested using the new scent in the shop diffusers during the Valentine season, she wanted to spend a few hours with it at home before making the final decision. Just as she was leaving the boutique, the phone rang, indicating an order was being placed from one of the kiosks. Every time that happened, she felt a personal glow of triumph. It was a damned good idea.

  The vial in a small red shopping bag with The Red Doors logo printed on it in gold, she strolled past The Diamond Mine again. Faith was huddled over the display case with the same customer, and Jamie hoped she was making a big sale. In Sheer Delights, Dixie was packaging up something for two thirty-something women.

  Jamie counted the number of customers, including the two who had been in Heaven Scent and the group of four guys in the café downstairs. She wouldn’t have minded seeing Dev at one of the tables, but he wasn’t there. Once in a while he stopped by The Red Bean after work, but not often. He was probably already heading home.

  From the top of the stairs she couldn’t tell if any of the computer kiosks were still in use, although she could be certain of at least one sale from them a moment ago. Still, she had to admit the place wasn’t exactly bustling. Thank goodness they had a plan to increase business or she’d feel really depressed.

  She felt better knowing that Jason was hard at work making that plan happen. And her current contribution was to go home and experiment with the patchouli. Maybe it would put her in the mood to try on the tiny red leather outfit she’d tucked into her oversize purse. Faith had dropped it on her desk earlier in the day, and she’d shoved it in her purse, more to get it out of sight than anything.

  Well, okay, she was curious. She’d never worn intimate leather apparel. She didn’t think of herself as an intimate-leather-apparel sort of woman. No doubt she’d put on the outfit, laugh herself silly, and take it off again. Or maybe she’d forget the whole thing. Descending the stairs, she walked into the frigid evening air and headed for the bus stop.

  DEV STOOD in the small entryway of Jamie’s apartment building, the gift-wrapped cup in one hand and a gift bag from The Red Doors containing a scented candle in the other. After ordering the candle from one of the kiosks late that afternoon, he’d stepped out in time to see Jamie leaving through the front entrance. He was glad they hadn’t run into each other. Surprise was his secret weapon.

  But secret weapon or not, he was still nervous. The whole idea of the wedding bell wrapping paper had been working on him. His stomach continued to feel funny, and he couldn’t blame it on the chili dog anymore. Slowly but surely he was starting to connect Jamie with the M-word.

  That was ridiculous, of course. He’d only kissed her once, and he couldn’t possibly be so far gone after a single touch of the lips. But all the months of thinking about her without taking action must have done something to his brain, because the ever-popular word affair tasted bitter in his mouth this time, while the long-avoided M-word rested on his tongue like a piece of Godiva chocolate, rich and full of promise.

  He’d never felt that way about a woman he wanted. About a good-looking stock, definitely, and he’d learned to trust his instincts when it came to the market. He wasn’t nearly as sure of his instincts when it came to women. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was huge in his life. His heart beat embarrassingly fast as he used the hand that held the gift bag to nudge her intercom button. What if she wouldn’t see him?

  After several seconds her voice floated from the intercom. “Who is it?” She sounded puzzled.

  “Dev.”

  “Dev? Is something wrong? Is Faith—”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Faith’s just fine. I happened to run across a replacement for your cup today, so I thought I’d bring it over.”

  “Oh! Um, okay, um, come on up.” The door lock buzzed and he was let in.

  Taking a deep breath, he crossed the small lobby and started up the stairs. Tonight he’d dressed down a little, putting on jeans that had been softened by a couple of hundred washings, and a sweater he’d had since college. He wanted Jamie to know that, like her, he wasn’t overly clothes-conscious.

  She opened her door wearing a furry white bathrobe that covered her from neck to ankles, but her feet were bare. Even more interesting, she had on more makeup than usual—dark red lipstick, mascara, even some blush.

  She looked as if she was getting ready for a date, and yet she’d told him she’d be available for the phone call from his friend, the one he’d made up. Maybe this was a spur-of-the-moment date. Spur-of-the-moment or not, he didn’t like it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Are you getting ready to go out?”

  “No.” But she looked nervous, as if he’d caught her at something.

  He had another, more unpleasant thought. She was entertaining someone in her bedroom, someone who would wait quietly in there until Dev dropped off the cup and left. If so, he’d better stick with handicapping the stock market, because his instincts regarding women sucked.

  “Well,” he said, “if I’ve come at a bad time, I can always—”

  “That’s okay.” She stepped back from the door. “I’m touched that you went shopping for a cup so soon. It really wasn’t necessary.” As she closed the door behind him, her glance took in the red bag in his other hand. “Something smells good.”

  “Yeah, I saw this and thought of you.” He handed her the bag. “And here’s the cup.”

  “Thank you, Dev.” She stood clutching both against her furry robe. “That’s very thoughtful of you. I—”

  “It smells different in here.” An exotic fragrance totally unlike the cinnamon and cloves he remembered filled the apartment. While the cinnamon had made him feel cozy and had aroused him in a slow, sensuous way, this stuff attacked him at a gut level. One whiff and he imagined a sex orgy—naked bodies, silk sheets, complicated positions and lots of warm massage oil.

  “It’s the patchouli blend I was talking about.”

  “So that’s patchouli.”

  “I’m trying it out before we introduce it as the background fragrance for Heaven Scent this month. What do you think?”

  It was sending him into sexual fantasyland. “It’s okay.”

  “Maybe I need to try ylang-ylang, then. I want something very arousing, not just okay.”

  If she used anything more arousing than this, she was liable to have people getting horizontal right there in the store, but he wasn’t about to say that. He also wasn’t sure if it was strictly the patchouli or seeing her in that furry bathrobe and bare feet. He wanted to know what was under the robe. He really, really wanted to know.

  “Well, thank you for the cup and the—” she peered into the bag “—the candle. Mmm, cinnamon, my favorite.”

  “You’re welcome.” He stood there with his jacket still on, getting warmer by the minute as he waited for her to invite him to stay. The longer he waited, the more he suspected she had a guy stashed in the bedroom.

  “Well, I suppose you have things to do,” she said.

  “Not much.” His suspicions deepened. The patchouli, the makeup, the bare feet and the bathrobe all added up to funny business. He should just leave, because she obviously wanted him to. But, dammit, he was stuck with that funny feeling in his stomach and the feeling wouldn’t let him just abandon the field without a struggle.

  Besides, he wanted to see the damn cup to find out what Edna had come up with. “So,” he said, “aren’t you going to open the box?”

  “Sure. Sure I am. Would you…like to take off your jacket?”

  “Why not?” As he hung it on the moose head coat tree, he noticed what he’d been too preoccupi
ed to figure out before. No other man’s jacket hung there. People didn’t run around in shirtsleeves on a February night in Chicago. So maybe there wasn’t anybody hiding in Jamie’s bedroom, after all. The knot in his stomach loosened.

  She walked into her tiny living room and set the red bag on her coffee table. Then she looked at the square package more closely. “Wedding bells?”

  He should have known a smart woman like Jamie wouldn’t miss that, even though he had. “It was…the only paper they had on hand.” Telling her the gift wrapping was free for wedding gifts would make him look really cheap. And no way was he confessing the murmurings of his soul on the subject of matrimony. Not until he’d had a chance to get used to the concept.

  “It’s pretty.” She pried off the white ribbon and unfastened the tape carefully. “I should save it in case I need to wrap a wedding gift. It seems like one pops up every other week these days.”

  “I know what you mean. It’s like this contagious disease.”

  She glanced at him, a smile on her wine-red lips. “You really are phobic, aren’t you?”

  “I might not be if my family would back off, but I hate being manipulated.” The minute he spoke, he realized that he’d been resisting marriage because his family had been pushing it. How infantile was that? Besides, he’d manipulated the situation tonight to his advantage, so he was no better than his scheming relatives.

  He massaged the bridge of his nose. “Okay, I have a confession to make. There’s no guy with a broken computer who plans to call you about his questionnaire.” He glanced at her, to see how she was taking the news. “And though I just told you I hate to be manipulated, I’ve been guilty of doing exactly that. I’d planned all along to come by with the cup, but I wanted to surprise you.”

  Holding the half-open package, she stared at him, her cheeks even pinker than the blush had made them. “You did? How come?”

  “I, um…” He searched through his vocabulary and found it lacking. “I wasn’t quite telling the truth last night.”

  She swallowed. “About what?”

  “About not being attracted to you. I said that because I didn’t think that you were attracted to—”

  “I am.”

  His heart started galloping furiously. “You are?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s…that’s great.” As he gazed at her standing there with the wedding bell paper in her hands, he had a feeling of inevitability. But that didn’t mean he had to rush into anything.

  She took a deep breath. “Well, would you like…coffee?”

  “That would be good.”

  “Or…or wine? It’s jug wine, though, and I’ll bet you don’t drink—”

  “Sure I do. But coffee’s good.” He gestured toward the package in her hand. “Why don’t you finish unwrapping that first?”

  “All right.” Her hands trembled as she took off the wrapping.

  “Need some help?” He took a step toward her.

  “That’s okay. I have it.” But she didn’t. The cup tumbled out of the box.

  Before it hit the floor and broke, Dev had a chance to see that it was a perfect match for the other one. Edna had done an outstanding job.

  “Oh, no!” Jamie glanced down at the cup, then back at Dev. “Stay there,” she said, holding up her hand, then pointing to her head. “We have history when it comes to picking up broken cups.”

  He crossed to her anyway. “I’ll get you another one tomorrow.”

  “Oh, no, you won’t.” She dropped to her knees and began gathering broken pieces and putting them in the box. “I was half to blame before, and this was totally my fault.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” He crouched next to her, more careful this time so they wouldn’t pull another Laurel and Hardy routine. “If I hadn’t admitted I was attracted to you, you wouldn’t have gotten nervous and dropped it.”

  She looked over at him. “I was hoping you couldn’t tell.”

  “It’s no crime,” he said gently. “I’m nervous, too.”

  She broke eye contact and went back to picking up pieces of pottery from the floor. “I can’t believe you’re nervous, a guy like you, who’s dated the cream of society.”

  “None of them could rattle off the first one hundred prime numbers. Faith told me you used to do that as a party trick, and you can even do it when you’re toasted.”

  “Faith told me you dated one of the Wrigley heirs.” She kept her attention focused on picking up the pottery shards. There were more this time than last.

  “I have an idea.” He took the box of broken pottery out of her hands.

  Her gaze flew to his. “You do?”

  “Yeah. Let’s forget whatever Faith has told either of us about the other one.” He set the box on the coffee table and sank to his knees in front of her. Then he reached out and cupped her cheek. Her skin was so soft. “What do you say?” he asked in a voice that had become thick with anticipation.

  “I think…it’s an outstanding idea.”

  “I was hoping you would.” Leaning forward, he kissed those incredible wine-red lips.

  IT WAS THE PATCHOULI OIL. And maybe the extra makeup she’d put on because it seemed to go with her outfit. Jamie couldn’t come up with any other explanation for why the man who had hightailed it out of her apartment last night was on his knees kissing her as if he meant to keep it up all night.

  But that was the message. A man who kissed this deeply and generously planned to have more than a cup of coffee before he left. Jamie decided, somewhere around the time that she started feeling dizzy, that she’d be a fool not to give it to him. She’d already grabbed the front of his sweater to pull him closer, so there was no point in trying to be coy now.

  She might as well do as he’d suggested and put aside all that she knew about his past with glamorous society types. Instead she’d concentrate on his present, which included a nerdy, unsophisticated woman who by sheer good luck was wearing red leather under her bathrobe. And speaking of that bathrobe, he had his hands on the furry lapels, as if he wouldn’t mind pulling them apart.

  He lifted his mouth a whisper away from hers. “You drive me crazy,” he murmured.

  She’d never expected to hear that from him. She couldn’t stop the shocked “I do?” from escaping.

  “Yeah, you do.” He slowly ran his hands up and down the lapels of her robe. “Jamie…”

  Beneath the red leather, her heart thundered. “Mmm?”

  “I want…”

  She could barely breathe. “What, Dev?”

  “Are you…do you have anything on besides…this?”

  Untutored though she was, she came up with the right answer. “Maybe you should find out.” Then she released her hold on the front of his shirt and let her arms fall to her sides.

  His breath caught as his fingers tightened on the lapels. “God, Jamie.” Then he delved into her willing mouth again.

  But this time while he kissed her, he gently pulled the front of her robe open. She waited for his reaction with giddy anticipation. The red leather bra was outlined in gold studs and trimmed with fringe. It gave her cleavage for the first time in her life. The red leather thong was decorated to match and barely covered the essentials. Jamie had never worn anything that skimpy, not ever. And Dev was about to meet his fantasy.

  After he’d parted the robe a few inches, he slipped a trembling hand inside. When he touched her leather-covered breast, he went completely still.

  Gradually his mouth lifted. She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her in astonishment. Then he eased back on his heels, unfastened the tie of her robe, and pulled back the furry material. “Oh…my…God.”

  Maybe the patchouli oil had taken away her inhibitions, because instead of feeling self-conscious, she loved the way he was looking at her. For the first time in her life she felt seductive. “Like it?”

  He swallowed, his gaze riveted to her torso. He nodded. Then with obvious reluctance, he dragged his attention back to her fac
e. He cleared his throat twice before getting the question out. “Why?”

  She settled for partial honesty. “Just…felt like it.”

  His voice was still hoarse. “I didn’t know…didn’t think that you…”

  “Had fantasies?” Hers didn’t include leather, but they certainly included him. So if she needed leather to get the guy, so be it.

  He nodded again.

  “I do.”

  “So do I.”

  She glanced down at the bulge in his jeans. She had caused that. Pride was followed by nearly uncontrollable desire. She’d always wanted him in the general sense. Now her needs were more specific.

  His laugh was low and strained. “As you can see.”

  Slowly she lifted her gaze to his as fine tremors coursed through her. This was the point of no return. Slowly she stood and let the robe slide off her shoulders and fall in a fluffy mound around her ankles. “Then let’s make our fantasies come true.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JAMIE WASN’T QUITE prepared for what came next. Without a word Dev got to his feet and swept her up into his arms. As he carried her down the hall, hesitating only slightly as he made sure he’d found her bedroom, she had barely enough time to remember that, one, she’d made her bed this morning and, two, she had a box of condoms in her top dresser drawer. She’d bought them after reading an article in Cosmo that said all single women should have a box on hand, because you never knew. And, sure enough, Cosmo had been right on the money.

  Dev laid her on the bed and kissed her as if there was no tomorrow. Jamie didn’t care if there was a tomorrow or not. All she needed was a tonight, and Dev’s mouth on her lips, her throat, her leather-enhanced breasts. She’d left her bedside light on and was glad she had.

  “I didn’t bring anything.” He lifted his head to gaze into her eyes. “So this is going to be all about you. Next time, we’ll—”

  “Next time?” She was stunned, thinking that tonight would be a one-shot deal and not caring if it was. But he was already planning a second go-round! Unbelievable.