by Ginna Gray
Her other hand lay curled in her lap, and every few seconds Alissa swept her thumb over the backs of the new rings, reassuring herself they were truly there.
There were many toasts, and there was a great deal of banter and good-natured teasing, particularly from her family. Despite the financial ruin facing them, they were ecstatic over the wedding and in high spirits. Even Joe, who was usually more reserved than Tyler and Roger, was ebullient, especially so after several glasses of champagne.
At the end of the meal, when Dirk and Alissa rose to cut the wedding cake, Joe raised his glass and called out, "Hey, Dirk! Have you given her your wedding gift yet?"
Dirk sent his new brother-in-law an indulgent smile and shook his head. "Not yet. I'm saving that for later, when we're alone."
"I'll just bet you are!" someone else teased.
The statement set off another round of ribald comments and taunts that brought hot color to Alissa's cheeks.
A short while later, Dirk held Alissa clamped to his side as they raced to his car amid a shower of rice and cheers. He settled her on the seat, and as he hurried around to the other side of the Mercedes, she smiled and waved to her family and friends through the window. Dirk paused before getting in behind the wheel to wave, as well.
Then they were on their way, just the two of them, leaving the cheering well-wishers behind, heading out the long drive that wound down the hillside to the highway.
After the jubilant celebration, the sudden quiet seemed taut and unnatural. The only sounds were the purr of the car's engine and the rhythmic thump of tires on paving. Alissa looked down, and experienced a tiny shock when her gaze lit on the gold band that now fit snug against the exquisite diamond solitaire on her left hand. Her heart began to pound. They were married. She wasn't Alissa Kirkpatrick anymore; she was now Alissa Matheson. Mrs. Dirk Matheson.
Barely over a month ago, she had been quietly fantasizing about him, spinning impossible scenarios in her mind, never imagining they would come true. But now they had … or were about to.
"Are you okay?" Dirk asked, and she jumped.
She looked at him, her smile a little wan. "Yes. I'm just tired. And feeling the effects of too much champagne, I'm afraid."
Dirk grinned. "The bubbly will do that to you, especially on an empty stomach. I noticed that you didn't eat much. Why don't you lean back and rest? Take a nap, if you want. It's been a long day, and we have an hour or so before we get home."
Home. Alissa couldn't quite think of Dirk's apartment as home. Now yet, anyway.
They weren't going on a honeymoon right away. Henry and Mrs. Battle had generously offered them the use of their summer cottage on Antigua, but Dirk had several deals working and was too busy to get away at present. He had promised they would take the trip before spring.
"Mmm. I think I will just rest my eyes for a bit. That wine has made my head feel as though it's stuffed with cotton."
It wasn't a total lie. She did feel a bit woozy, but mainly her nerves were jumping and she simply wasn't up to making small talk. She welcomed an excuse to withdraw for a while.
She pressed the electrical control button, and the back of the seat slowly lowered. Giving him one last smile, she turned sideways and snuggled her cheek against the buttery leather seat and closed her eyes.
A slight smile curved Dirk's mouth as he stared ahead through the darkness at the strip of highway illuminated by the car's headlights. He felt good. Actually, he felt damned good. Sort of like he did when he closed an important business deal … only better. Much better.
Which was strange. After being a bachelor for so long, you wouldn't think that he would enter into marriage quite so willingly.
He snorted. Willingly, hell; eagerly was more like it. The only last-minute jitters he experienced had been the result of worrying that Alissa might change her mind.
He glanced at her, lying back in the seat with her eyes closed and an intriguing smile on her lips, and he experienced a surge of emotions so strong he could barely breathe. Among them was desire, of course. He was anxious to get home and make love to her. After two months of celibacy, his body was screaming for satisfaction. Plus, he just plain wanted her. Not just a woman—he wanted Alissa.
And who could blame him? She was so soft and feminine, so delicately lovely, everything he had always found appealing in a woman. Her subtle perfume drifted to his nostrils, and he had an urgent desire to pull over to the side of the highway and press his face against her satiny skin and search out that fragrance in all the secret places of her body.
He smiled again. Soon. Soon he would. She was his now. His wife.
Alissa had had no intention of sleeping, but the next thing she knew, Dirk was shaking her awake. "Wake up, sweetheart. We're home."
"Wha— Oh." Sleepy-eyed, she sat up and self-consciously patted her hair while she looked around. They were in a dimly lit parking garage.
Then she remembered, and suddenly she was wide-awake and her nerves began to quiver again.
Dirk climbed out of the car and retrieved the bag she had packed that morning. She would bring the remainder of her clothes and personal items over during the following week, while he was at work. After assisting her out and locking the car, Dirk put his arm around her waist. She jumped as though he had touched her with a cattle prod. If he noticed, he didn't let on.
Neither spoke during the elevator ride to the top floor. By the time they entered the apartment, Alissa's nerves were stretched so taut she started at even the soft click of the door closing behind them.
"Relax, sweetheart," he said soothingly. "I'm not going to pounce on you."
"I know. Oh, I don't know what's wrong with me!" she wailed, turning into his embrace. She pressed her face against his chest and put her arms around his waist. He lifted her chin and kissed her lightly, once, twice. Sighing, she relaxed against him, and he smiled.
"Why don't I show you around the apartment?" Without waiting for her agreement, he released her and flipped on a wall switch beside the large arched opening that led off the entry hall. Immediately, lamps and overhead track lighting came on in the adjacent room. "The living room," he said, gesturing for her to proceed him.
Alissa went down the two steps and walked to the middle of the wide expanse of hardwood floor.
A sinking feeling overcame her as she turned in a slow circle and surveyed the place that was to be her home. She had to work to keep a smile on her face.
Architecturally, the design was beautiful. A soaring ceiling and lots of glass gave added spaciousness and eye appeal to the large room. The furniture, however—what there was of it—was ultramodern. Sleek, straight lines, functional and unadorned. The color scheme seemed to consist of nothing more than various shades of brown, from the lightest beige to chocolate, with a touch of navy thrown in. What appeared to be a Mayan statuette about a foot high sat on the lacquered coffee table, and a tall navy blue pottery vase full of pampas grass stood beside the hearth. One painting, which consisted of frenzied splashes of navy blue, brown and tan on a white background, was the only decorative piece that adorned the white walls.
At a glance, it was easy to see that every item in the room was top-quality and had probably cost the earth. The apartment looked like something out of a modern decorating magazine. Alissa hated it.
Dirk stood to one side with his arms folded over his chest and what appeared to be an amused look on his face, watching her. "Well? What do you think?"
She sent him a wan smile, not quite meeting his eyes. "It's … it's…" Even before she could think of a polite lie, her face began to heat.
Dirk chuckled. "Sweetheart, you have to be the world's worst liar. C'mon, tell the truth—you think it's hideous."
"Oh, no, really! I don't think that at all. Actually, it's quite tastefully done. It is a bit … well … stark … but if you like that sort of thing—"
"I don't."
Surprise widened Alissa's eyes. Before she could reply he added, "What you see is
the result of giving an interior decorator a free hand. I've never been happy with how it turned out, but since I wasn't sure exactly why, I didn't complain. To be honest, I didn't know what I liked until I saw your place."
"Really?" She beamed at him, inordinately pleased and vastly relieved. It had occurred to her that if their tastes were so diametrically opposed in other ways, their marriage could be in trouble already.
"Yeah. Actually, I'm hoping you'll make some changes to this place. Make it homier. More … livable. For the five years I've been here, it's been little more than a place to shower and sleep."
"Well, I'll try, but frankly, I don't think the kind of things I like will fit into this decor."
"Then toss all this out and start over, if that's what it takes."
Alissa stared at him. "Are you serious?"
"Completely. This is going to be our home. I want it to look and feel like one. And I want you to like it. Now why don't I show you the rest?" He held out his hand to her, and she took it, burgeoning happiness replacing her earlier spell of nerves.
In addition to the spacious living room, the apartment consisted of a sleek, modern kitchen, all stainless steel and white, a study/library that Dirk used for a home office, a powder room off the front hall, and three large bedrooms, each with its own marble bath. Alissa kept a smile pinned to her face as she noted that the minimalist decor and neutral color scheme had been carried throughout the apartment. She certainly had a job ahead of her.
Dirk ended the tour in the master bedroom. By design, Alissa realized, as soon as they stepped inside and her gaze fell on the king-size bed, with its navy-and-tan geometric-patterned bedspread.
Her nerves jumped, and her gaze skittered away, but there wasn't much else in the room on which she could focus, merely a modern brown leather chair with impossibly slender lines that sat before the terrace doors, and another abstract painting above the fireplace, this one depicting a slightly off-center large navy ball on a tan background.
She turned and found that Dirk was watching her. Though intense, as always, his expression was composed, but there was a hungry gleam in his eyes that sent a little thrill skipping along her nerve endings.
"The bathroom is through there, and that's the closet," he said with a wave of his hand. "I cleared out some space for your things yesterday."
"Thank you." The instant she spoke, she almost groaned. The stilted politeness was absurd, given the circumstances, but she couldn't help it. The situation was so awkward and unnerving, her brain simply wasn't functioning.
"I'll go get your bag from the entry way. I won't be a minute."
He was back almost before she had time to do more than turn in a slow circle and survey her stark surroundings. "While you unpack and make yourself comfortable, I have a few calls to make," he said tactfully. He leaned down and kissed her lips lightly, then drew back a few inches and looked into her eyes. "It shouldn't take me more than an hour."
His message was clear. He was being considerate, giving her time to do whatever she needed and compose herself, but he was prepared to wait just so long.
Butterflies did a dance in Alissa's stomach as she watched him stride out of the room and close the door behind him. She picked up her suitcase, and on shaking legs she walked into the closet.
An hour later, fresh from the shower, Alissa stood in the middle of the bathroom, so jittery she couldn't think what to do next. The luxurious surroundings only added to the sense of unreality that gripped her.
She looked around, awed. Dirk's bathroom, like that so-called closet, with its yards and yards of hang-up rods and built-in drawers and cabinets, was bigger than her bedroom in her house.
Except for one totally mirrored wall at the end, the entire bathroom was made of white marble—the floor, the walls, the bath and shower, the countertops. The fixtures and trim were polished brass. Lush navy towels hung on heated rods, and several thick navy bath mats covered the floor in strategic places. Directly beneath a skylight and surrounded by plants sat a sunken Jacuzzi bathtub the size of a small swimming pool. The shower alone would hold a half-dozen people. You could give a party in this room, she thought, dazed.
Barefoot, Alissa walked to the long marble vanity and stared at her reflection in the mirror. It was silly and it made her feel foolish, but she was more nervous than when she'd married Tom, and then she'd been a nineteen-year-old virgin bride. With trembling fingers, she touched the ecru edging on her ivory silk nightgown and drew several deep breaths, but nothing would still the fine tremor that vibrated deep inside her.
Dabbing perfume behind her ears and in her cleavage, she told herself it was normal to be a little nervous on your wedding night, no matter how old or experienced you were.
The hand holding the perfume stopper halted in midair, and she grimaced at her reflection. Who was she kidding? That was the whole problem. These days most high school girls had more experience than she.
In all of her thirty-six years, she had been with only one man. On their wedding night, she and Tom had been a couple of innocents, fumbling through the awkwardness of first-time lovemaking together. Over the years they had gradually become more comfortable with one another, had, through trial and error, learned each other's needs and desires and eventually settled into a mutually satisfying—if not particularly exciting—sex life.
Even with her limited experience, every instinct she possessed told her that making love with Dirk would be a whole different story. He was a demanding and passionate man with a healthy sex drive, and he had been with many women—sophisticated, worldly women who knew how to please a man in ways she couldn't even imagine. She hadn't any idea how to satisfy a man like Dirk.
Oh, Lord, what if she disappointed him? What if she wasn't sexy enough?
She whirled around to check her appearance in the ceiling-to-floor mirror that covered one wall, and her jittery nerves received another jolt that made her heart thud. With an unsteady hand, she touched the shiny bodice of the ivory satin nightgown.
It had been a present from Dirk. The lovely gift-wrapped box had been sitting on the vanity when she entered the bathroom, and propped against it had been a note in Dirk's slashing scrawl.
I saw this and thought of you. It would please me if you would wear it tonight.
In the box, the white satin gown had looked modest enough. Personally, she would have chosen something a bit more sedate, but she had been pleased that at least it was not some wispy, transparent little scrap of nothing. Now she could see that her first assessment had been in error.
Though the garment was opaque, it was shockingly revealing, clinging to every curve and dip of her body like a lover's caress. Her nipples thrust against the soft fabric, creating two button-hard nubs in the glossy surface, and a tiny crater marked the indentation of her navel. The rounded upper curves of her breasts swelled above the plunging neckline like ripe fruit, and against the ivory satin her pale skin glowed with a delicate peach tint.
Alissa stared at her reflection and wondered how she would gather the nerve to walk out there and face Dirk wearing the slinky garment. Not that she had much choice. It was either this or her wedding dress, which hung on the back of the door. She supposed that she could wrap herself in a towel, too. The latter would at least provide more coverage; Dirk's towels were the size of a small sheet.
A sound from the bedroom made her jump. She whirled around and stared at the door. Her mouth was so dry her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth.
She closed her eyes, then gave herself a shake. This was just plain silly. It was time to quit dithering, she told herself, squaring her shoulders. She loved Dirk, and he was her husband now. He had chosen her to be his wife. Her—not one of those worldly women from his past. If he was disappointed in her sexually … well, he'd just have to be patient and teach her.
She reached for the door handle, then hesitated, tempted for an instant to wrap one of the giant towels around her shoulders. She could always claim she was chilly. Instan
tly, she dismissed the idea as cowardly. Drawing a fortifying breath, Alissa opened the door and stepped into the bedroom.
* * *
Chapter 9
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The sight of the bed brought her up short just a few steps inside the room. Dirk had removed the spread. She stared at fluffed pillows and the wedge of wrinkle-free navy sheets and blankets, turned back in intimate invitation, and her heart pounded like a wild thing in her chest.
Gathering her courage, she moved farther into the room. Her feet were bare, but she must have made a small sound, for Dirk turned from the window. Something hot and urgent flashed in his eyes at the sight of her. The remote, slightly impatient look he usually wore slipped from his face as it tightened with desire.
Slowly, taking in every inch of her, his gaze ran from the top of her honey-colored hair to the small bare toes peeking from beneath the hem of the satin nightgown. Alissa's courage faltered under that fiery gaze, and only a few feet into the room she came to a halt.
"You wore the gown," he said softly. "I'm glad. You look lovely. I knew it would suit you."
"Really? It's, uh … it's not my usual style," she said in a lame voice, then added hurriedly, "But it is beautiful. Thank you."
His mouth twitched. "No. Thank you."
Without taking his eyes from her, Dirk crossed the room with slow, measured steps. Somehow, Alissa found the controlled, sinuous grace of his movements both threatening and almost unbearably exciting. As he drew near, she waited with her heart booming, her insides aquiver.
He had shed his wedding finery, and from what she could see, he wore only the maroon silk robe she had given him as a wedding present. The garment did not lessen the impact of his maleness one iota. If anything, he looked sexier than ever.