by BETH KERY
“There is no doubt in my mind. If you aren’t their daughter, why are you having all these flashbacks and memories?” he asked through a clenched jaw. “And how does it happen that Alice Reed came into being at the exact moment that Addie Durand disappeared?”
Alice closed her eyes briefly. “I’d rather see the proof, firsthand. Is that too much to ask? And in the meantime, surely it makes sense for me to continue at the camp. Don’t you think it’d be more ideal if it all turns out to be true for sure, that Durand employees knew I’d been in the trenches? That I was willing to show I’m not afraid of hard work or to start out at the bottom?”
He shook his head, staring at the road ahead of them. “You don’t understand. Durand is yours by birth and by law. You’re not obligated to prove anything.” She watched him grip the wheel, his knuckles going white.
“I disagree.” She reached out and squeezed his forearm. He blinked and looked at her. She held his stare. “I’m not saying I’m ever going to lead Durand. But if I did, I’d want to show I’d earned the right to do it. I’d want to demonstrate to the employees I was willing to work my ass off for their company. I’d want to earn their respect.” She gripped his arm. “I’d want to do it like you did,” she whispered emphatically.
She watched as the cutting fire in his eyes banked to a warm gleam. He exhaled heavily and grabbed her extended hand. He enfolded it in both of his and rested it on his thigh. They said nothing for a moment, watching as a pickup truck barreled past them and slowly disappeared down the ribbon of highway.
“Is it really all that crazy that I want to finish Camp Durand successfully?” she asked in a hushed tone.
“I guess not,” he replied. “Just stop living under the illusion that if you want to be a manager for Durand Enterprises and learn the company, that anyone has the power to stop you, including me.”
“Maybe you can explain that to Kehoe,” she murmured, smiling.
“Fuck Kehoe.” He glanced at her, his former fire blazing high again for a brief moment. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about how you’re managing at the camp.”
She perked up a little at that. “You have?”
His brief shrug and expression seemed to say, Of course, what else would I have heard?
“We haven’t talked about it all that much. I wasn’t sure if you knew anything beyond the little bit I told you last weekend.”
“I hear things. I didn’t want to bring it up. I didn’t want to overshadow your decisions or progress as a counselor.”
She smiled. “You wanted me to sink or swim by my own merits?”
“Yes.”
She gripped his hand tighter. He glanced over at her.
“That’s all I want, too, Dylan,” she explained feelingly, willing him to understand her point of view.
After a moment, he exhaled and shook his head.
“Is that another thing you’ve learned at camp? How to sway a dissenter so perfectly?” he asked, giving her a darkly amused glance and reaching to put the car back in drive. Alice laughed.
“No. I think I owe that lesson one hundred percent to you.”
BY the time they returned to Morgantown, the evening had turned still, overcast, and muggy. Steel gray clouds encroached on the brilliantly lit sunset. Alice thought the dramatic, eerie backdrop of the sky especially fitting for the beautiful, silent mansion perched atop the bluff.
“Is everyone gone, do you think?” she asked Dylan when they entered the house via the garage.
“Yes. We’re all alone. Louise has set the alarm,” he said, pushing in the code on the keypad of the security system. He turned to her. “You go up and shower for dinner. I’ve got to take care of a few things, but I’ll come up and get you when everything is ready.”
“Why are you being so mysterious?” she asked him, grinning.
“Because it’s a surprise, why else?”
Her grin widened. No matter how hard she tried to wheedle a few clues out of him as to what he planned, he was impervious. He just hustled her over to the grand staircase and urged her up the stairs.
“But . . . what am I supposed to wear?” she demanded when he’d successfully pushed her up three steps.
“The less, the better,” he said. He noticed her exacerbated expression. “Anything. Don’t get dressed up. It doesn’t matter. No one is going to see you but me.”
“Then it matters a lot.”
He lunged up the first two steps, cupped her jaw, and planted a kiss on her mouth for that. That kiss didn’t last long enough for Alice before he was turning her around again.
“I’ll come and get you in forty-five minutes or so,” he said from behind her. “No venturing out this time, armed with a golf club or not. Stay put.”
“But—”
She tried to turn around, but he stopped her by facing her toward the staircase with his hands on her shoulders. She looked over her shoulder, and he gave her ass a playful swat.
“There are more of those where that came from. It is your birthday, remember?” he asked, that dangerous glint shining in his dark eyes. He raised his hand over her ass when she hesitated. She snorted with laughter, leaping up the stairs to avoid his swat.
After she finished taking her shower and washing her hair, she hesitated about what to wear, given the meager information Dylan had provided. She considered all the lovely things he’d given her last week. Cinching the sash tight on her fluffy robe, she wandered out of the bathroom to the closet where the items were stored. What would be appropriate for what sounded like a special dinner?
A birthday dinner. It still seemed too incredible to believe. But that wasn’t the primary reason she found the day special. Today was the day she’d told him she loved him.
Several minutes later, she stood up quickly when she heard the knob turning. She’d been reading a Durand annual report that was on the coffee table. Or she’d tried to read it, anyway. Mostly she’d been on high alert, waiting for Dylan.
He walked toward her now, smiling when he saw her tug self-consciously at the tie on her robe.
“I thought you said I shouldn’t dress up,” she said, eyeing him and scowling. He looked indecently gorgeous. He’d obviously showered in another room, because there was still moisture in his thick, wavy hair. He wore a pair of black trousers and a stylish black, gray, and ivory short-sleeved polo. She caught a hint of his clean, spicy aftershave as he neared her.
“I said it didn’t matter,” he repeating, running the lapel of her robe through his hands. He stepped closer, his head lowering until their faces were just inches apart. She stared up at him, her mouth hanging open. It was as if it were her first time seeing him. Her body clamored with awareness. “Your robe is perfect. You might be a little warm, though. We’re having dinner outside, and it’s muggy out there,” he said, his voice going low and gruff. His dark eyes ensnared her. She was intensely aware of his hands sliding up and down on the lapel of her robe, his knuckles brushing against the bare skin of her chest. His mouth hovered just an inch above hers.
“I’ll manage,” she croaked.
He smiled. “Good.” Disappointment spiked through her when he stepped back and took her hand.
“Should I wear shoes?” she asked uncertainly, glancing down at her bare feet.
“You won’t need them. Follow me.”
She was a little surprised when, instead of leading her down the grand staircase and downstairs toward the terrace entrance, he led her in the opposite direction and down the west hallway.
“Where are we going?” she asked, even more confused when he led her up the staircase instead of down a moment later.
“You’ll see.”
“Oh, the back porch,” she said happily a moment later when they finally arrived at the narrow set of stairs that she recognized. Dylan had taken her here last week in order to watch the sunrise. Even though the rear porch appeared to be rarely used and weatherworn, Alice had found it extremely romantic and lovely. She especially loved th
e huge old porch swing.
Dylan turned toward her as he reached for the door. “Close your eyes.”
She followed his instructions, unable to repress her grin.
She heard the latch on the door and he tugged on her hand. She walked several feet blinded, guided only by his hand.
“Okay. Just stand there for a few seconds and keep your eyes closed. No cheating.”
“Hurry up,” she insisted amusedly after what felt like forever. Was that the sound of a lighter being struck? “The suspense is killing me.”
“Patience,” he remonstrated. She felt his hand enclose hers.
“Okay. Open them.”
It took her several seconds to absorb what she was seeing. The entire veranda had been transformed into a romantic fairyland. It’d been repainted. The wood floors and beamed ceiling a soft gray that matched the limestone of the house, the railing and large porch swing were a pristine white. The wrought iron chaise lounges had been spruced up with cheery red cushions. Pots of colorful red and white flowers had been set along the railing. Interspersed between them were glowing, flickering lanterns. Several small leafy trees in large pots had been placed along the back of the veranda, and someone had intertwined strings of tiny white glowing lights on them. In the center of the porch a round cloth-covered table had been placed along with two chairs. The table was a feast for the eyes, decorated with a low crystal bowl of lush purple hydrangeas and flickering candles. Before each chair sat a silver domed dish.
A small lacy three-tiered cake and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket had been placed on a side table. The pretty little cake was lit with candles on each layer, making it look like a glowing confectionary tower.
“Happy birthday,” Dylan said, leading her toward the cake.
“It’s all so beautiful,” she murmured, wide-eyed, soaking in all the minute details around her with wonder. Her gaze landed on the white railing and flowerpots. He watched her reaction warmly. A heady feeling rushed through her. “You remembered what I said that day about how the railing should be white, and flowerpots should be in front of it.”
“I never came up here when you were small, and I’ve never seen any photos,” he said, his hand moving at her back. “When you said that it should be white with flowerpots, that was my only hint of what this porch looked like twenty years ago.” He nodded at the cake. “Well? Make a wish.”
She swallowed thickly, finding it hard to focus with so much happiness crowding her consciousness.
I wish I could live up to it all, she thought, her gaze wandering over the lovely veranda and thinking of everything it entailed. It landed on Dylan. Please let me be what he truly wants—me—not freedom from the burden of grief and guilt he’s felt all these years.
She blew out the candles . . . all twenty-four of them.
“Do you think it was a real memory? The one about the white railing and the pots of flowers and my love of the porch swing?” she asked Dylan after he’d seated her at the table and sat down across from her.
“I see no reason why not. Louise and Marie both assured me that the color choices were ideal, one way or another.” He lifted the champagne from the ice, his brows arched in a question.
“Please,” she murmured, going back to staring all around and admiring the romantic setting. “So Louise and Marie helped you with this?”
“Couldn’t have done it without them. I had some painters come in a few days ago. Louise did all the decorating and flowers. She’s been at it all day. Marie prepared our meal and baked your cake.” He set her champagne flute down in front of her. “The only thing I did was follow Marie’s instructions for heating the dinner. Let’s hope I didn’t blow that.” He whipped off the domed lid and Alice stared down at a steaming, beautifully presented meal.
“Chicken cordon bleu, rice pilaf, and braised asparagus. They both say happy birthday, by the way. Louise and Marie, I mean. I gave them the day off tomorrow—I wanted the house to ourselves—so they told me to be sure to tell you for them.”
“That was nice of them. This is wonderful. Thank you.”
“Like I said, I didn’t do much,” he assured, removing the dome from his own plate and setting it on the serving table.
She reached across the table and caught his hand. He glanced up in surprise.
“It’s the exact opposite of nothing. You planned it all. No one has ever given me a birthday dinner before, let alone one like this.”
His mouth pressed into a hard line. “Never?”
“It’s okay,” she assured, grinning. “This makes up for it all.”
“If only that were true,” he said quietly.
She swallowed thickly, regretting the shadow that fell over his features. She shouldn’t have brought it up. The reminder of his regret when it came to her—when it came to Addie—had thrown a temporary pall upon the magical moment. She was eager to make it disappear.
“I have a little surprise, too,” she said brightly, reaching for the tie on her bathrobe. She stood and went over to a chaise lounge, the fluffy robe falling past her shoulders. She laid it on the cushion and turned to face him, holding her breath. His expression went rigid as his stare lowered over her.
“You said I could wear whatever I wanted,” she said tremulously, affected by the heat of his gaze. “It was one of the things in the lingerie you got for me last week,” she added when he just continued to stare.
“I bought you a nightgown. You’ve turned it into an event.”
She blushed in pleasure. What had he meant, an event? Whatever it was, she knew by his stare it was a compliment. “It fits really well,” she agreed lamely, taking a step toward the table. It was an understatement. The dark blue and silver fitted gown might have been made for her. It dipped very low and cupped her breasts, rib cage, and waist before it flared ever so slightly, still skimming sensually against her belly and hips. An inch of elasticized black lace was the only thing that covered her nipples. The upper mounds of her breasts were fully displayed. Her cheeks warmed even further as Dylan continued to eat her up with his stare. She stepped toward the table to take her seat again, but Dylan caught her hand and pulled her toward him. His stare was fixed on her breasts.
“Turn around. Let me see you,” he urged gruffly.
Arousal prickled at her clit in response to his hungry expression. She turned slowly.
“Hold still,” he directed when her back was to him. She looked over her shoulder. The gown was backless. His gaze traveled downward, making her naked spine flicker in awareness. When it reached her ass, he reached and stretched the silky material over a buttock. He cupped the cheek in his palm and squeezed. Her sex tingled in excitement. Slowly, as though he was relishing the anticipation, he lifted the fabric, exposing her buttocks. He caressed the bottom curve of her ass with his fingertips. She exhaled shakily at the intimate caress combined with his intent stare.
“No panties. You really are going to turn this into an event,” he said. He released the fabric. She blinked when she heard a brisk metallic sound, and then another. He’d placed the domed warmers back on their meals. His hands on her hips, he turned her and brought her closer, opening his thighs. He stopped her when she stood just inside his knees. She watched, holding her breath, as he ran his fingertips over her silk-covered belly. His expression was almost feral. A sharp thrill went through her. She didn’t know why, but she loved it when he grew single-minded in his arousal. A fool might have thought he became selfish in those moments, but Alice knew the truth. His sexual hunger fed her. She loved being the object of his lust.
His hand lowered. He brushed her mound very lightly with his fingertips through the silk. Pleasure tingled through her at his touch. Her nipples tightened beneath the lace. She whimpered softly, and he looked up. The candlelight gleamed in his eyes.
“You’re so lovely.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m going to have to have you. Your dinner will have to wait. Cake, too.”
“I’m ver
y patient,” she whispered, trapped in his dark eyes.
“No, you’re not. Neither am I.”
Still holding her stare, he once again brushed his fingers against her mound, his fingertips finding the cleft between her labia. He rubbed gently against the silk. The subtle pressure made her tremble.
“You’re like something out of a fantasy. So beautiful. So primed to my touch.”
She exhaled shakily and reached for him, longing to dig her fingers in his hair. He stopped her by grabbing her wrists and placing them at her sides.
“Keep them there, or I’ll tie them behind your back.” His tone was mild enough, but the flash of steel in his stare told her he was serious. He cradled her hips in both his hands, then ran his palms along her waist and the sides of her body. She shivered in pleasure.
“Cold?” he murmured.
“No,” she replied. The summer air was warm and a little muggy. It was his skimming hands that were making her tremble. He brushed his hands over the top of her breasts. His forefingers dipped beneath the clinging lace, pushing the fabric beneath her nipples. His low, rough growl of satisfaction caused arousal to stab at her clit.
“Look at that,” he muttered, his gaze glued to her protruding nipples. “You’re the feast here tonight, Alice. I’m going to savor you.” His stare flickered up to her face. “And then I’m going to gorge myself on you. Are you ready for that?”
The edge to his lust intimidated her a little, but also excited her hugely.
“Without a doubt.”
His mouth softened slightly at her eager reply. He lowered her gown down to her waist, baring her breasts completely.
“Good. Let’s start with some appetizers and champagne.” He leaned forward. With his hands at her hips, he pushed her back slightly, as though he wanted a full view of her. He grasped her wrists and raised her hands. “Touch your breasts.”
Alice cupped the mounds uncertainly. His request made her a little self-conscious. Especially when he leaned back in his chair and picked up his champagne glass. He took a sip, watching her all the while like a hawk about to pounce on its prey.