by Mulry, Megan
“I know. He’s a brave man.”
They finished up the conversation and, just as Claire was saying good-bye, Sarah said, “I’m sorry again for saying that about thinking of having a baby. Whatever you decide, you know I will totally support you.”
“Thanks, Sar. It always helps to hear it. We’re not planning anything…” She hesitated, wondering how much to say. “But sometimes in life the best things are unplanned, right?”
“All right. That does it. You are way too happy for me. I’m hanging up now.”
“Love you,” Claire said, now accustomed to it from always signing off her calls with Ben that way.
“I love you too.” Sarah stopped. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you say that.”
“I’m trying to get in the habit.”
“I can tell already I’m going to love this guy.”
“I think you will.”
They said their good-byes, and Claire set about getting ready for work and straightening up the apartment before she left for the day. She went into the bedroom and tidied her things, smiling all the while. She’d taken the pregnancy test that morning after Ben had left for work, and—other than her brief tiff with Sarah—Claire had been smiling like a fool ever since. She looked at her watch and calculated that she had about nine hours of delicious anticipation until she could tell him the results in person.
Chapter 17
Ben finished up with his last patient of the week and smiled at his dental assistant as he handed her the burnisher he’d been using.
“You’re all set, Mrs. Richardson,” he said. “The root canal is done.”
The patient looked up at him and smiled as he raised the seat into an upright position.
Ben patted her on the shoulder. “Let me or Deborah know if you have any problems in the next few days.”
“Thank you again, Dr. Hayek. I was so worried.”
“That’s why we’re here. Call anytime.”
He left the examination room and went into his office and shut the door. Everything was tidy, the way he liked it. Everything in his office was running smoothly, as it always had, probably. But lately, since Claire really, everything at work just seemed…better.
He sat at his desk and booted up his computer. While he was answering a few emails, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out to take a look. A text from Claire.
want to meet for happy hour?
He clicked out a reply.
ready and waiting. where and when?
She sent back the name of a restaurant a few blocks from his office on Fifth Avenue, and he told her he’d meet her there in twenty minutes.
When he arrived at the bar area, he was worried he wouldn’t be able to find her in the dense after-work crowd. She must have been looking for him, though, because he spotted her instantly at the far end of the oak bar, waving one graceful arm.
He pushed his way gently through the sea of people until he reached her. Claire was sitting on a barstool with her long legs crossed and a frosty glass of something pink at her elbow. She had on a soft, pale yellow silk blouse, which made her look nearly angelic.
“Look at you…the marchioness of Manhattan.”
“Stop. I’m just a working girl having a well-earned rest after a long week in the coal mines.”
“The silk-curtained, French-wallpapered coal mines?” he teased.
She took a sip of her drink with her usual delicacy, but something about her tonight was even more elegant and aristocratic than usual. Ben stared at the turn of her jaw, imagining queens and princesses and duchesses from centuries gone by. Claire’s confident posture was the result of something innate, something Ben was reluctant to call breeding.
“What are you looking at? You’re making me nervous.” She smiled and leaned in to kiss him. After a quick peck, she leaned toward his neck and whispered, “I love you.”
He got such a rush out of those three simple words when she said them. No matter how often or how mundane they might have sounded to someone else, his heart hammered…every…single…time. Ben leaned in close to whisper something back but licked her ear instead, then pulled away slowly and reached for her cosmo. He watched as the shiver of sexual excitement ran through her body. He loved how, at first, she always tried to be more controlled, more upstanding, more unaffected, when she was turned on. Especially in public.
She always acted a little shocked when he kissed her in a restaurant or a store or whispered something erotic when they were sitting next to each other on the subway. But her skin’s flush told the real story, not the frosty words she used to conceal her pleasure.
“I love you too,” he said as he put the drink back down. “What is that? It’s pretty weak.”
She smiled up at him. “So what were you thinking when you were staring at me just now?” She looked mischievous, like she had a secret and she wanted him to beat the bushes to figure it out.
“Fishing for compliments, are we?”
She smiled again.
“Okay, I’m happy to oblige. You look particularly lovely tonight, just…the way you sit, your posture, your…you.” He smiled and she looked embarrassed. “If you want to know the truth, I was thinking terrible thoughts about breeding, about how there must have been duchesses and queens who looked like you.” He trailed his finger along her jaw. “So perfect.”
“I am so not perfect.” She looked away from him.
“You are to me.” He drew her chin back, forcing her to look at him.
“Because I’m like a cold statue or an old painting?”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he snapped.
She looked confused by his quick temper. “I know.” She tried to shake it off. “I just meant, I don’t want to have to stand up to perfect, whatever that means.”
“You know you don’t have to stand up to anything with me, sweetheart.” He reached his hand around her neck and pulled her in for a deep kiss. She made a slight protesting moan at the back of her throat then softened and bent into him. When he released her, she looked stunned, her lips slightly parted and her eyes sparkling.
“Anyway,” she grinned. “You always say I look lovely, so I’m not quite sure when to believe you.”
“Well, tonight I said you look particularly lovely, not just your regular old stop-my-heart lovely. So, what’s up?”
She smiled again.
He took another sip of her drink while she smiled that tempting smile at him. He frowned at the glass when he put it down. “That is the worst cosmo I’ve ever tasted. It’s like straight cranberry juice.”
She kept looking at him with that beatific grin, and he felt his skin begin to tingle at the back of his neck, then along his spine, at the roots of his scalp.
“You’re pregnant.”
“I knew you would know right away,” she whispered, almost to herself.
He pulled her off the stool and hugged her so her entire body was flush against his. He spun her around and bumped into all the people near them and kissed her again as he set her back down. He turned quickly to apologize to everyone. “Just got some good news. Sorry for the disruption!”
A few people grumbled and a few others smiled, as if they already knew what the news was. He dragged both of his hands through his hair and stood there staring at her. Dumb struck.
“Claire.” He reached out and held her cheeks in his hands.
“Ben. I’m so happy,” she said softly. Her eyes gleamed, and she looked like she was about to weep.
“Let’s go. I want to hold you for days without letting go. I think we should stay in the city after all. I won’t be able to have my hands off you for the drive out to Litchfield.” He threw a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and smiled at the bartender, then pulled Claire’s coat off the back of her stool and held it for her to slip her arms into the sleeves. Everything about her exuded a fluid warmth, the way she slipped her hands into the silk lining of her jacket, the way she bent to pick up her work bag.
“You okay?” she asked, adjusting the bright red cashmere scarf around her neck and tilting her head to one side.
“Home,” he growled, pulling her hand into his and tugging her behind him through the crowded bar.
It was just starting to snow. “You all right to walk to the subway?” he asked.
She laughed, loud and free into the open air of the city sidewalk. “Oh, Ben. You are glorious. I can walk. I can run. I can do all sorts of things to you in bed in about fifteen minutes when we get back to your place or my place and I get you all to myself.”
“Stop talking about the things, or I’ll have to get us a room at the St. Regis instead of walking the rest of the way to Lexington Avenue.”
She gasped.
“What?” he asked, concerned.
“Let’s!” She turned so she was standing in front of him, blocking his way.
“Let’s what?”
“Let’s go check in to the St. Regis! Right now! I’ve always wanted to do something totally spontaneous like that. Let’s order room service and watch movies and do all the things.”
He thought his face might split from his smile. “Yes. Now.”
He pulled her a few yards, and they stepped into the exquisite hotel lobby. Fresh bunches of roses sat atop marble tables. Shiny, polished brass sparkled under the chandeliers. Ben asked the woman behind the desk if they had any rooms for the weekend.
She typed onto a keyboard and then looked up. “I’m sorry, sir, but we are completely booked. It’s such a busy time before Christmas.”
“Oh, what a shame,” Claire said, noticing the woman’s name tag. “Not even for one night, Melanie?”
The woman tapped her keyboard again, then shook her head with genuine regret. “I’m sorry, but no.”
Claire turned to Ben and whispered something in his ear, then turned back to the woman. “Thank you for trying. Maybe something will open up. I think we’ll have a drink in the bar and hope for the best.”
“I really don’t think—”
“I’m feeling very lucky today.” Claire’s smile was contagious, and Melanie smiled in return.
“I wish I could help.”
“No worries. Thanks again.” Claire put Ben’s hand in hers and they walked across the lobby into the bar, finding a table in the corner that had just opened up. “See? Lucky,” Claire said as they sat down.
“You are so bad. All your talk about not wanting to use your title to impress or manipulate and then you go and call your brother to bring in the heavy artillery for a hotel room at Christmastime. Maybe you’re not such an angel after all—” He reached for her but she swatted his hand away.
“Oh, hush,” she said on a light laugh. “I’m certainly not using it for any nefarious deed.”
“You might not be thinking of any nefarious deeds, but I certainly am,” Ben said as Claire tapped a text into her phone. “By the way,” Ben grumbled, “this delay is defeating the whole purpose of slaking my raging lust, remember?”
“Patience,” she chided. Her phone vibrated within a few seconds. Her smile was smug.
Ben shook his head. “These terrible relatives of yours…”
A waiter came over to ask what they’d like. “I’m not sure we’ll be staying after all—” Ben said.
Melanie from the front desk had walked quickly into the bar and was standing at the entry looking for them. When she saw them sitting in the darkened corner, she schooled her worried features back to professional calm. “Lady Wick, I am so sorry about the confusion. Lord Heyworth just phoned from London to release his suite. I am so sorry I didn’t think of it immediately, that I didn’t recognize you—”
Claire stood up slowly. “No need to apologize. It wasn’t like I told you who I was… I didn’t want to take his suite if I didn’t have to.” Claire smiled and continued. “But this is an emergency of sorts, so for all of Devon’s misdeeds, I thought he could spare his older sister a room at the inn for a few nights.”
Ben was still shaking his head as he stood up and wrapped his hand possessively around Claire’s waist. “Unbelievable,” he muttered close to her ear, making the single word sound like a sexual promise.
“Do you have any luggage?” Melanie asked.
Ben was still holding Claire’s work bag—a utilitarian canvas tote that was filled with fabric samples and project folders—and Melanie practically wrestled it from his hand. “Please. Allow me.” She handed it to the bellman with a tight smile. “Lord Heyworth’s suite.”
She led them to the elevator then turned back to Ben and Claire as she pressed the button and the shining brass door pulled open. “I’ve already taken the liberty of sending up a bottle of champagne at your brother’s request. Please let me know if there’s anything else you would like.”
Claire and Ben stood in the elevator with the bellman.
“This is wonderful. I’m sure everything will be perfect,” Claire said.
Melanie gave a professional nod and released her hand from where she was holding the elevator open. “Enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you!” Claire said as the doors slid shut.
A moment later, the front door of the hotel opened and a blindingly handsome couple walked in with several carts of luggage following behind them. The man was tall, immaculately dressed, and his black hair was slicked straight back away from a high aristocratic forehead. His cheekbones were slashed beneath bright blue eyes. The young woman with him was a porcelain doll of a redhead, but with full, sultry red lips that removed any hint of innocence. In fact, she might have even been a high-class hooker.
“May I help you?” Melanie asked politely.
“Lord Wick. I have a reservation.” He didn’t look at Melanie when he spoke, but tossed the words rudely in her direction as he kept staring at the woman who looked up at him in return with blatant sexual invitation.
“Welcome to the St. Regis, Lord Wick.” It wouldn’t be the first time married people checked into separate rooms—with separate people—and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Melanie kept her professional smile in place and did her job.
Chapter 18
Claire’s heart pounded as Ben’s grip around her waist tightened, then softened and he began gently pulling her closer into his hold. The presence of the bellman in the elevator was maddening. The floors sped past, but not fast enough. They finally reached the private ninth floor and were led into a large suite that looked far more like a Manhattan apartment than a hotel room.
“Would you like me to show you around the suite?” the bellman inquired politely, after setting down Claire’s tote bag.
“No,” Claire and Ben answered in unison.
The three of them smiled at each other for a brief moment, and then the bellman bowed quickly and was gone.
Ben released his hold on Claire and walked back toward the door, bolting it and turning slowly to face her. She had started taking her coat off, undoing the clasps slowly while she watched him walk toward her. She turned to the closet in the small hallway and reached for a hanger to put away her coat and was startled when he grabbed her wrist.
“Nefarious, remember?” He tore the coat from her hold and tossed it across the room, following it quickly with his own.
She became more arch in the face of his aggression, taunting him with her haughty disinterest. “Really Dr. Hayek, I have no idea what you’re talking about…” Her words trailed off as she slowly undid the tiny pearl buttons of her blouse.
His mouth went dry watching her long elegant fingers methodically unbuttoning, then separating the front placket of her yellow silk top. She reached for his tie, loosening the knot and focusing on her fingers as she worked the silk. He stared at the golden strands of hair that had come out of her professional chignon at the base of her neck.
“Oh, Claire…” He reached up to touch the tender skin just below her ear and marveled at how she sighed and warmed to hi
s touch.
She kept her eyes on his tie until she’d finished getting it undone, then proceeded to undo each button on his dress shirt while he caressed her nape and the turn of her shoulder, her jaw. “I think I love everything about you. It’s almost debilitating,” she said. Her eyes closed, and she leaned in to kiss his exposed chest. “I love this part of you…” She kissed him again on his stomach. “And here…”
He snapped out of his reverie, hauled her up into his arms, and carried her the short distance to the bedroom. She burrowed into his neck, kissing him along his jaw, then nibbling at his ear. “And here…and here…” she whispered, continuing to enumerate the tender kisses.
He laid her down on the bed and slipped off her blouse as he did. She was wearing a pale yellow lace bra he’d bought her a few weeks ago. “How does someone working in the coal mines afford such expensive lingerie?”
She squirmed on the bed, watching him remove his shirt and unbuckle his belt. “My lover buys them for me.”
He smiled at her, with a devilish gleam in his eye. “He sounds generous.”
She shimmied out of her skirt and tights and lay there in nothing but the bra and matching lacy boy shorts. “He is. Incredibly generous.”
By then, Ben was naked and stalking up the length of her body, until they were face to face and he had her lovingly trapped beneath him. “Is he generous in bed?” he whispered.
She swiveled her hips against his. “Very…very…generous…” She kissed him between each word. “But sometimes he talks too much.”
Ben growled and plundered her mouth with a forceful kiss. She battled his tongue with hers and arched her body up into his.
“You’re going to pay for that…” he whispered when he pulled away to catch his breath.
Claire was already slipping into that dreamy place Ben always took her, somewhere between profound need and the blissful knowledge it was about to be met.
“Oh, really? Promises, promises.” She loved when he was rough with her body. The way she responded so eagerly to his more forceful lovemaking had been a surprise to them both.