Long Time Coming

by Rochelle Alers

Tessa clamped her knees together when she felt Micah’s erection pressed to her hips. A gush of wetness bathed the folds at the apex of her thighs, indicating her body was preparing itself for his penetration.

  “Oh, Micah.” The two words were barely audible.

  He heard her entreaty, echoing his own need to be inside her. Reaching over, he removed a condom from the bedside table. The seconds ticked off as he slipped on the latex covering. Wrapping an arm around Tessa’s waist, he eased her to her knees and, using his free hand, guided his throbbing sex into her, her gasping in surprise. Once fully sheathed inside her, he cradled her waist as he pushed slowly into her flesh closing around him. Then he set a deliberate rhythm that had both close to climaxing. The press of buttocks against his belly as she rocked back and forth, the position allowing for the deepest penetration and sight of her firm swaying breasts, made him close his eyes to shut out the erotic vision. It was either make love to her with his eyes closed or withdraw from Tessa to turn off the lamp. And the pleasure he derived from her body was too intense for any interruption.

  Tessa’s breathing deepened before quickening until she found herself gasping for her next breath. Each time Micah pushed into her quivering flesh it was as if he touched her womb before withdrawing to thrust again. His motions quickened as he cupped her breasts. The weeks, days, hours, minutes and seconds that had passed since he’d last made love to her vanished in a nanosecond when she climaxed. Waves of ecstasy washed over her like the ocean rocked by a violent storm, and she was helpless to swallow back the surrendering moans of pleasure that left her with an incredible feeling of completeness.

  Micah’s hoarse groan overlapped hers as he threw back his head and gave in to the dizzying intensity of his release. Looping his arms around Tessa’s waist, he held her in an almost death grip until the pulsing eased, then stopped. His knees shook, his heart pounded like a jackhammer in his chest and he felt light-headed as if he were going to faint. Easing forward, he collapsed on her body.

  “Micah! Micah, get up! You’re crushing me.”

  Somehow through the lingering sensual haze he heard Tessa’s voice. Rolling off her, he lay on his back, his chest rising and falling heavily. He reached for her right hand and gently squeezed her fingers. “I’m sorry, baby.”

  Tessa lay down, peering over at the man beside her. She knew it was time she stopped lying to herself. She’d fallen in love with Micah Sanborn.

  CHAPTER 17

  Tessa sat on the rug between Micah’s outstretched legs in front of a blazing fire. She’d just finished talking to a client who’d referred her to the wife of a bank president who wanted her to coordinate her husband’s retirement party. The celebration, more than five months away, would be held in their penthouse on the Upper West Side with panoramic views of the Hudson River and New Jersey. Reaching for her PDA, she entered the information she’d jotted down in a small spiral notebook. A shiver raced up her spine when Micah’s fingers snaked around her neck.

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” he whispered close to her ear.

  “Let me finish entering my notes.” Her thumbs moved with lightning speed as she tapped keys as her speedwriting raced across the small screen. “M-i-c-ah!” His name came out in several syllables when he looped an arm around her waist, lifting her effortlessly off the rug.

  “Finish it later. If we’re going for that walk, then we better get going before it gets dark.”

  She held up two fingers. “Give me two minutes and I’ll be done.”

  Cradling her face in his hands, Micah lowered his head and kissed the end of her nose. “If you’re not ready in two minutes, then I’m leaving without you.”

  “Remember to leave a trail of bread crumbs for me to follow.” She’d asked him to take her out to survey the area. The last time she’d come, the weather had kept them indoors.

  He dropped his hands and she sank back down to the floor. “Two minutes, Tessa.”

  Turning on his heels, he walked out of the space toward the rear of the house. He and Tessa had slept late, and when they’d finally left the bed after another passionate session of lovemaking the sun had passed its zenith. He’d prepared a hearty brunch before driving into town to pick up a supply of firewood. By the time he’d returned Tessa had cleaned up the kitchen, put up a load of wash, made the bed and cleaned the bathroom. She gave him a bit of attitude when he told her that he didn’t bring her with him so that she could do housework. She’d come back at him, saying she wasn’t raised to sit on her hands and have someone wait on her. The warning look in her eyes had spoken volumes: the subject was moot.

  He wanted to spend time with Tessa, make love to her and not waste time arguing. They got along so well that for a few brief moments he’d tried imagining what it would be like to be married to her. However, as soon as the notion came it fled. Marriage meant a lifetime commitment, possibly children and a happily ever after. Fairy tales were dreams not reality. He’d laced up his boots and had just reached for his fleece-lined jacket when Tessa stood in the doorway to the mudroom. Her eyes appeared abnormally large in her bare face.

  “You really were going to leave me, weren’t you?”

  He met her obviously shocked stare. “Yes, I was.”

  “Are you always so dictatorial?”

  He took a step. “You think I’m being dictatorial because I want to leave on time?”

  She waved a hand. “Perhaps I used the wrong word. Is anal more appropriate?”

  Micah’s expression stilled as he struggled to understand the woman standing inches away. Why was she so damned determined to fight with him? Well, if she was spoiling for an argument, then she was out of luck.

  “Are you coming, Tessa?”

  Tessa didn’t know what to make of the enigmatic man to whom she’d given her heart. She hadn’t wanted to argue with him, but she’d needed something—anything—to keep her from blurting out how much she’d come to love him.

  “Yes, Micah. I’m coming.”

  Walking over to a bench, she sat down and reached for her boots. Her effort to put them on was thwarted when Micah bent down and slipped them on her sock-covered feet and tied them up. He took her coat off a wall peg and held it while she pushed her arms into the sleeves.

  “Do you have a hat?” he asked as he buttoned her coat.

  She shook her head. “I didn’t bring one.”

  “You’re going to need one because the temperature is dropping.” He opened a plastic storage bin and pulled out a ski cap. “One for you and one for me.”

  Bundled up in her wool coat, hiking boots, ski cap and gloves, she reached for Micah’s hand. “I’m ready.”

  He pulled her against his chest, rocking her gently in his embrace. “You’re going to have to stop fighting with me.”

  Tessa pressed her nose to his shoulder. “I don’t want to fight with you.” It’s just that I don’t want to love you, she added silently.

  Micah kissed the top of her cap. “Are we still friends?”

  She smiled. “Yes.” Why, she asked herself, was Micah deluding himself? Friends don’t make love to friends the way he’d made love to her. He’d offered all of himself, holding nothing back, and vice versa.

  They left the house through the door in the mudroom, making their way down a sloping hill until reaching a narrow, curving one-lane road. They walked along the side of the road in silence. Ancient trees with massive trunks so wide it would take the arms of two men to span them, stood like motionless sentinels, their branches reaching upward and outward like skeletal limbs. The stillness and silence were frightening and comforting at the same time. It was as if time had stood still and she and Micah were the only two human beings left on the planet.

  “Don’t move.”

  Tessa went completely still, inhaling and holding her breath. It wasn’t until Micah pointed to his right that she slowly let out her breath. They’d come upon a family of deer nibbling on the branches of a bush covered with dark red berries.
It was a doe with two fawns. Their spots were barely visible.

  “They’re beautiful.”

  Micah nodded, then turned to look at Tessa, whose eyes were glistening with unshed tears. His heart stopped before starting up again. He didn’t understand her. She was the consummate businesswoman who had just enough edge to be taken seriously, yet she cried over fairy-tale movies and feeding deer. He felt her vulnerability as surely as it was his own. Wrapping both arms around her body, he held her as they watched the deer strip the berries from the bush. A hoot of an owl disturbed the silence, sending the deer scurrying into the woods for safety.

  They started walking again. Tessa found breathing difficult with the rising elevation. The thinner air was a reminder that she was in the Adirondack mountain range. “Do you ever go skiing up here?”

  Micah eased her farther off the road when he heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. An updated Volkswagen Beetle with a ski rack sped past them. “No. I usually ski in New Jersey. Would you like to learn to ski?”

  “No.”

  He laughed. “You said that a bit too quickly.”

  “I don’t like cold-weather sports.”

  “If you dress appropriately, then you won’t feel the cold.”

  “Thanks but no, thanks, Micah. I much prefer a tropical beach.”

  “If I had a preference between a ski slope and the beach, then I’d certainly take the beach. That’s not to say that downhill skiing isn’t enjoyable.”

  The sun dipped lower in the horizon, casting lengthening shadows over the countryside, and there was just a hint of light in the sky when Micah and Tessa returned to the house.

  * * *

  Tessa, her back supported by a mound of pillows, stared at the leaping flames behind a decorative screen in the bedroom fireplace as she waited for Micah. The soft sound of an acoustic guitar playing flamenco filled the space. She’d shared cooking duties with Micah when they’d prepared a creamy shrimp fettuccine, but he’d shooed her out of the kitchen while he’d cleaned up the remains of dinner. He walked into the bedroom carrying a bottle in one hand and two wineglasses in the other. A pair of pajama pants rode low on his slim hips.

  Micah sat on the side of the bed and filled the glasses with wine. Smiling, he handed Tessa a glass. “I hope you like it.”

  Touching her glass to his, she took a sip. “It’s a nice, dry Riesling.”

  His eyebrows lifted. It was apparent the woman who’d enthralled him was full of surprises. “You can identify wine by taste?”

  She gave him a sensual smile. “I’ve attended more than my share of wine-tasting competitions. Where did you get this?”

  “Bridget gave me a case as a housewarming gift.”

  She took another sip. “I like it,” she said, scooting over when Micah got into the bed next to her. Tessa snuggled against him, their legs intertwined. Everything was perfect: the wine, the music, the warmth and smell of burning wood and the man who’d unwittingly awakened a need she hadn’t thought possible.

  * * *

  Tessa gave her name to the doorman, who picked up a phone and dialed the apartment of a prospective client. The woman had called her frantically earlier that morning, sobbing hysterically because the wedding planner she’d hired to coordinate her daughter’s upcoming wedding had terminated their contract. The young woman’s wedding was scheduled for a Valentine’s Day candlelight celebration.

  The man in bottle-green livery smiled at Tessa. “Mrs. Pendergast is expecting you. The elevator that will take you to the twenty-fourth floor is on your left.” She crossed the opulent vestibule in the luxury high-rise apartment building on Park Avenue and made her way toward the elevator.

  The frantic telephone call from Mrs. Adele Pendergast had interrupted the conversation she’d been having with Micah. He’d called to tell her how much he’d enjoyed sharing the weekend with her, and Tessa had been forthcoming when she’d told him that she looked forward to doing it again. It was as close as she would come to admitting that she wanted to spend more time with him. Weekends were no longer enough. She wanted more—much more than a few nights together every two weeks.

  She pushed a button and the elevator door opened. Walking in, Tessa pushed the button for her floor, the doors closing and the car rising smoothly upward. The doors opened and she saw a framed Monet print on the wall. Every six feet another framed print graced the papered walls of the carpeted hallway.

  She rang the bell to the Pendergast apartment, and within seconds the door was opened by a petite dusky-skinned woman wearing a pale gray uniform. Smiling, she introduced herself. “I’m Tessa Whitfield. Mrs. Pendergast is expecting me.”

  The door opened wider. “Please come with me.”

  Tessa followed the woman through an enormous entryway and down four steps to an expansive sunken living room. Floor-to-ceiling windows let the outdoors in with startling vistas of Central Park and downtown Manhattan. The furnishings looked as if they’d been chosen for a layout in Architectural Digest.

  A tall, incredibly slender woman with shimmering blond hair rose from a silk-covered chair. A younger woman who was an exact replica of the older woman stood up, flashing a weak smile.

  A slight frown marred Adele Pendergast’s perfect face. “Hilda, please take Ms. Whitfield’s coat.” There was a slight edge in her voice that did not bode well for the woman in her employ. “And please bring us some coffee and tea.”

  Slipping out of her coat, Tessa handed it to the housekeeper. “Thank you.”

  Adele waved a hand with an enormous South Sea pearl-and-diamond ring. “Please sit down, Ms. Whitfield.” Waiting until Tessa sat down on a maroon-and-aubergine-striped love seat, Adele sat down again. Her daughter repeated the motion, her movements resembling a marionette manipulated by several strings.

  Adele, beautifully attired in a Chanel suit, Ferragamo pumps, a magnificent strand of pearls gracing her neck and matching studs in her ears, leaned forward in her chair. “Ms. Whitfield, this is my daughter Samantha. Darling, this is Ms. Whitfield of Signature Bridals. She’s agreed to coordinate your wedding.”

  “I do believe you’re being a bit premature, Mrs. Pendergast,” Tessa said calmly. “I told you that I would have to talk to you first before committing to anything.”

  Adele Pendergast stared at the young woman in the ubiquitous New York City black: turtleneck sweater, tailored wool slacks and suede pumps. Tessa’s hair brushed off her face and secured in a chignon and her lightly made-up face played down the natural beauty that didn’t require the services of a plastic surgeon or esthetician—unlike Adele, who’d practically drained her husband’s bank account when she underwent a complete makeover to hold back the hands of time.

  “But isn’t that why you’re here, Ms. Whitfield? To commit to coordinating my daughter’s wedding?”

  Tessa felt a shiver of annoyance snake its way up her back. Counting slowly to three, she forced a smile she didn’t feel. “I’m here for a consultation, Mrs. Pendergast.”

  Adele met Tessa’s unflinching stare. “There’s not much to talk about, Ms. Whitfield. My daughter is scheduled to marry James Cullen Siddell at a Long Island country club, and her father and I are prepared to pay top dollar for your services.”

  Crossing her feet at the ankles, Tessa shifted her gaze from mother to daughter. A brilliant platinum engagement ring with an Asscher-cut diamond circled the third finger of her tiny hand. Tessa had seen enough diamonds to recognize the cut and carat weight with a single glance, and Samantha’s ring exceeded three carats. Although exquisite, the ring was overpowering given her fragility.

  “Samantha, what is it you want for your wedding?”

  “We want a formal affair,” Adele said quickly before Samantha could answer Tessa’s question.

  “What about invitations?”

  “They’ve been mailed.” Adele answered again.

  Tessa’s impassive expression concealed her exasperation with Samantha’s mother. “How many guests are you and your
fiancé inviting, Samantha?”

  “The last count was two hundred and twenty-five.” Adele had answered for her daughter a third time.

  Tessa had had enough. Adele was obviously a controlling, overbearing mother and there was no doubt she’d become a certified monster-in-law. “Mrs. Pendergast, I’d like to talk to Samantha—alone?”

  Adele sat up straighter at the same time her eyebrows lifted slightly. A blush suffused her pale face. “Why, Ms. Whitfield?”

  “It’s going to be her wedding and that means she should be the one answering my questions.”

  “But my husband and I are paying for everything, Ms. Whitfield.”

  “Who’s paying for what is of no concern to me, Mrs. Pendergast—that is if I decide to coordinate your daughter’s wedding. Must I remind you that this is not about you or your husband but Samantha and her fiancé?”

  The rush of color to Adele’s face was so intense that Tessa thought she was going to stroke out on her. Not only didn’t she want to take on Samantha as a client but she didn’t need the extra revenue. No amount of money was worth having someone micromanage what she did quite well.

  “What’s it going to be, Mrs. Pendergast?”

  Fingering the pearls hanging from her neck, Adele affected a thin-lipped smile. “Okay, Ms. Whitfield. I’ll permit you to be alone with my daughter.”

  Tessa refused to relent. “I’m not asking your permission.” She turned to look at Samantha, who’d fixed her gaze on the pattern of the priceless Persian rug under her feet. “Samantha, do you want to speak to me alone?”

  The flaxen head came up, and when Samantha met the wedding planner’s resolute stare she felt a measure of courage to finally stand up to her controlling mother. Ms. Whitfield was the third wedding planner she’d hired since her yearlong engagement to the son of one of her father’s business associates. She wasn’t in love with James, but with time she knew she could learn to love him.

  “Yes, I do, Ms. Whitfield.”

  “Sammie!” Adele gasped.

  All the resentment she’d harbored over the years to conform to her parents’ standards welled up inside her and spilled over like bile. “Don’t call me that dreadful name, Mother!” Her bright blue eyes gave off angry sparks. “And, yes, Ms. Whitfield, I’m willing to talk to you without my mother’s interference.”