by Dara Girard
“Yes it will. Tell me about…” She searched her mind, then gave him a subject.
At first his words were dull, then as he warmed to the topic they became interesting and fresh. Soon he didn’t need her anymore. And over the following months she learned to fall asleep to the sound of the keyboard.
Then one evening he crawled in bed beside her and kissed the back of her neck. “I’m done.”
She turned to him. “Really?”
He drew down the strap of her nightgown with intimate slowness. “Yes, really.” He placed a feather-light kiss on her shoulder. “All thanks to you.”
“I can’t take all the credit,” she said trying to sound rational, although his mouth and fingers made her feel anything but.
He drew down the other strap with equal deliberation. “You can take most of it.”
“You did all the hard work.” She licked her lips and watched him uncertain as he unbuttoned his shirt. “Dominic, what are you doing?”
He tossed his shirt aside and stared at her with innocence. “I’m getting ready for bed.”
“You don’t look like you’re ready to sleep.”
He unbuttoned his trousers. “I’m not. I’m planning to thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me this much. You’ve worked very hard and I’m sure this book will be a hit.”
He took off his trousers and tossed them aside also. “I don’t care as long as you like it.”
“I’ll like it. I always like what you do.”
He began to smile.
Brenda noticed the sensuous gleam in his eyes and shook her head. “Dominic, I have work tomorrow.”
“No, you don’t. You’re not going in.”
A knowing grin touched her mouth. “I’m not?”
“No, you’re calling in sick.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to keep you up all night.” He pulled down her nightgown. “And then I’m going to cook you breakfast and make love to you until lunch.”
“Then you’ll cook lunch?”
“No, we’ll order in.” He leaned toward her.
She held him back. “Tempting, but I have lots of work to do tomorrow. Wait until the weekend.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You have to.” Brenda pulled up her nightgown, jumped out of bed and headed for the door. “I’m sleeping in the guest room.”
Dominic leaped up and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her up against him. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“We can’t afford to lose work hours and—”
He spun her around. “Don’t worry about the money.”
She sighed with helpless frustration. “Dominic—”
“One day I’m going to make so much money you won’t have to teach anymore. You’ll do all the research you want.”
“I don’t mind teaching.”
“You hate it.”
She shrugged. “It pays the bills.”
His jaw tensed and his gaze grew cool. “You don’t believe that I can—”
She covered his mouth with her hand. His expression may have frightened someone else, but she knew him too well to ever fear him. He’d only looked at her like that once before when he’d discussed his mother and his terrible home life with her. She stared at him determined to erase that look from his face. “I believe that you can accomplish anything you want. I know you haven’t even reached all that you’re going to.” She saw his gaze soften and smiled. She removed her hand, then kissed him. “Now good night.” She turned to leave.
“I knew it was a brilliant idea.”
She stopped. “What?”
“Marrying you. One day you’ll feel the same.”
“I already do.”
“Then spend the night with me and let me take care of tomorrow. Trust me.”
Brenda bit her lip, briefly shut her eyes then looked at him feeling all of her resolve melt away. She removed her nightgown and let it fall to the ground. “I do.”
Dominic swung her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He gently eased her down on it before covering her body with his. The warmth of his hard flesh pressed against her sent a pure and explosive sense of desire cascading over her. Soon she no longer wanted to talk. She was consumed with the primitive need to feel him inside her; to be one with him. Within moments passion, desire, promises, love surrounded them as strong and unrelenting as a tropical storm. And when the fierceness of the storm threatened to ease, Brenda looked at Dominic and whispered, “Did you really mean what you said?”
“About what?”
“Making love to me all night until breakfast?”
Dominic didn’t reply with words. However, he used his mouth to give her his answer.
The phone rang, jarring Brenda out of the past and forcing her back to the present. “Hello?”
“Did you like it?” Dominic asked.
The sound of his voice made her body grow hot; for a moment the past mingled with the present as she tried to erase the intimate memory she’d indulged in. She took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s very good.”
“You used to think my work was excellent.”
“Yes.” I used to think everything about you was excellent. She undid the button on her blouse, then tugged on it to cool herself. “You don’t need my praise anymore—you have plenty of other people ready to stroke your ego.”
“That’s not why I asked you. I’ve always valued your opinion. You know that.”
His honesty touched her. “I’m honored to be a part of this book. I know it’s going to be a hit.”
“Good. I’m ready to get started. I sent you an e-mail. I want us to meet Saturday.”
“Okay. See you then.”
That Saturday Brenda stared at her closet and realized she hadn’t worn her second pair of stockings yet. She’d tried her first pair on Dominic, why not the second? She put on a pair of striped gray stockings, which felt heavenly and added a bit of danger to her legs, then selected a soft lime-green cashmere sweater dress.
At first she tried on a pair of cranberry-red flats, but they didn’t work with the stockings or the dress. Instead they looked festive and made her look like a holiday decoration that only needed tinsel. She exchanged the shoes for a more subdued pair of two inch dark brown pumps.
She took a final look. Practical and sexy, but not over the top. Fitted but not too tight, and the green shade complimented both her figure and skin tone.
Brenda arrived early at their meeting place. She spent most of the time in the retail store next door looking at the display case filled with hand blown pottery. She lost track of time as her artistic nature took hold and she didn’t mind late autumn’s chilly air. She loved this part of the town, but hadn’t been there in years. Her research project used up two hundred percent of her time. Over the years the area had changed considerably and was now the hub of the visual art scene in Seattle.
Most of the buildings had been renovated into artists’ lofts or private, high-priced condominiums and apartments. Many years back, while attending a street festival in the area with Madeline, they had taken the opportunity to visit with some of the artists. One man stood out with large glasses and a selection of garish, hand-painted ties. They’d bought one for Dominic and begun their “ugly” tie tradition.
Brenda returned to the location Dominic had sent her. The building was a stately old brick structure right on the waterfront. For a moment, Brenda remembered the hours she had spent working on an oil painting, or completing a watercolor. During college, her favorite pastime had been sketching the many beautiful scenes Seattle provided. It wasn’t called the Emerald City without justification. No matter what the season was, the majestic evergreens provided breathtaking views of the mountains and framed the waterways that surrounded the city. And she remembered her first studio, a room Dominic had transformed in their two-bedroom apartment.
Unfortunately, when they moved to their house, her priorities had changed by then and t
he paints and easel had been exchanged for a desk, pens and a microscope.
“Sorry I’m late,” Dominic said, his breath coming out in white puffs.
“That’s all right.” She had seen him running toward her.
He paused as though he’d expected her to be angry and didn’t know what to do because she wasn’t. She saved him by saying, “I’m cold.”
He took her hand. “Then let’s go inside.”
Chapter 10
Something was different. He didn’t know what it was, but he could feel it. Dominic kept moving forward, although his mind was in chaos. He’d been prepared for a snide or sarcastic comment about his being late or for Brenda to yank her hand away from his, but she hadn’t done anything. At last he was making progress. The studio better be good or he’d serve Thomas to the wolves.
He put the key in the door and opened it. He scanned the room, then he looked at Brenda. Her response was all that mattered.
She shook her head. “It’s too big.”
His hopes fell. “You don’t like it?”
She grinned. “I didn’t say that.”
All his tension eased. He watched her take off her coat and hang it on the coatrack. She said something, but he didn’t hear her. He couldn’t believe what she was wearing; he noticed where the zipper was and knew that in one quick motion, he could have her out of it.
“Dominic?”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“This place must cost you a fortune to rent.”
Rent? He’d bought it for her, but she’d discover that later. “You’re working on my book and I always take care of anyone working for me.” He meant to goad her by hinting that she was his employee, but she didn’t take the bait. Yes, something was definitely different.
Brenda knew Dominic expected her to argue, but she wouldn’t. Instead she noticed the rug and lighting and the sofa bed. He’d remembered how she used to work late at night into the early morning and had a habit of falling asleep in her studio. No, she wouldn’t argue with him. She’d come determined to make a decision and he’d help her make it.
She looked out the window at the ripple of waves skidding across the lake. Soon she would return home and it would be another evening with a TV dinner and a sitcom. She thought of Madeline and the Society’s oath. She didn’t have to find her ideal man right away. There would be no harm in them being together, at least through the empty winter months. It would be fun. They’d always had fun together. And incredible sex. It was the marriage that had been a disaster.
Dominic was a superb lover, unlike her two former boyfriends. They would always brag that they knew how to please any woman, before even taking off their clothes. Dominic knew the art of making love to a woman. Each and every encounter was an experience that stayed with her for days. His approach to lovemaking was enjoyable and uncensored, and always done playfully, unlike one boyfriend who approached sex like a mechanic working on a car. Every time they made love she wondered if he’d read an instruction manual:
First, pull the woman close to you and kiss the lips, then take your mouth down her neck and stop at the breasts. Caress them with your hands for a few seconds; twist the nipples as though trying to find a radio station for approximately one minute. Next move down to the hips and if she tries to give you any instructions as to what to do, ignore them. Just whisper in her ears, “Relax, don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”
She shivered at the memory.
With Dominic she never knew what to expect, which always heightened her sexual response. She missed making love to him. He’d once fulfilled her fantasy to make love in their walk-in closet—no lights and no talking.
Then there was the time when he gave her a blank book of coupons to write down her fantasies. This resulted in their making love three to four times a week for two months.
It couldn’t hurt to be with him until her Mr. Right came along.
“So what do you think?” Dominic asked.
She turned to him, her decision clear. She walked up to him and kissed him, then slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ll thank you some more, unless you have to be somewhere tonight.”
He didn’t move; his voice hoarse. “No.”
“Good.” She kissed him again.
He drew away and searched her eyes. “You’re not going to regret this tomorrow, are you?”
“If you make me stop, you’re going to regret it right now.” She raised her mouth to kiss him again, but he kissed her first. His mouth enveloped hers while his hands unzipped her dress. It fell to a puddle at her feet. Brenda let out a moan of pleasure as his tongue caressed the inside of her mouth. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders.
“Tell me you want me,” he said.
Her hand disappeared inside his jeans. “You tell me first.”
He shut his eyes when she clasped him. “I want you.”
She pulled down his jeans and arched into him. “I want you too.”
Dominic removed the rest of his clothes and hers, then carried her to the sofa bed. He was right, they were like two elements irresistibly drawn together. When his bare flesh touched hers she thought she would shatter into pieces. She was alive. And so was he. She didn’t realize how dead she’d started to feel inside, but not anymore.
She rolled on top of him and invited him inside her, knowing there was danger that he’d sneak back into her heart again. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about consequences or right and wrong. Right now she felt primal—she wasn’t a creature of intellect, she was a creature of feeling and she’d experience as much as she could.
“Drive me home, baby,” he whispered. “You know how.”
She rocked against him driving him in and out until the frenzy between them rose to ecstasy. They changed positions, they kissed, they caressed, they made love until they fell away exhausted. Brenda stared up at the ceiling with tears streaming down her face.
Dominic touched her cheek. “What’s this?”
“I’m happy to be alive.”
“Me too, honey.”
She tasted the saltiness of her tears. “Poor Madeline.”
He tenderly brushed her tears aside. “Shh, don’t think about her. Let’s just be here now. Together.”
“Yes.” She drew him close, wanting to be as near him as she could. “Together.”
Thomas dropped the phone as though it had just burned him and looked at Natalie as she read her book. “Do you know who that was?”
She turned a page without interest. “No.”
He pointed to the phone as though it could come alive and bite him. “Dominic. He just gave me a holiday bonus.”
“Why?”
“Because of the studio. He said everything went better than he’d hoped. How is that possible? The location sucks, the place is a dump. How could he be happy?”
“I don’t know,” Natalie said, then lifted her book to hide a smile.
“The book is real,” Dominic said as he and Brenda lay on the bed in the studio. For the past three weeks they’d made use of the studio’s sofa bed and nothing else.
Brenda’s head rested on his chest. “I know.”
He placed a hand behind his head. “We’ve been coming here for a while and you haven’t drawn a thing.”
“It’s hard to work in the positions you force me in.”
“I don’t force you, you like them.”
She raised her head. “True.” She brushed her lips against his, then rolled away.
“We have to get to work,” he said, his arm outstretched and ready to pull her back in close.
“I know.” She sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at him. “Think you can keep your hands off me?”
His fingers crawled up her back. “No.”
She playfully removed his hand. “You have to.”
He closed his eyes and groaned. “Get dressed and I’ll try my best.”
Brenda stood. “You know I’ve never tried drawing naked before.”
“If you
try that you won’t be drawing at all.”
She laughed and began to change. She pulled on a pair of jeans, a large T-shirt and tied her hair up with a tie-dyed head scarf.
“I can’t work while you’re here,” she said as she adjusted her scarf.
“I promise to be quiet,” Dominic said, his voice muffled as he pulled on a shirt.
“No. I need to be on my own.”
He sighed. “You’re probably right.”
“I know I’m right.”
He gave her a big wet kiss, then left. Brenda walked over to the drawing table and touched all the pencils, brushes and charcoal, then she sat. I can do this.
She picked up a specimen and placed it down, then for the first time in years, she began to draw.
In early winter Brenda surprised her team and business associates by hosting a catered event held in an intimate dining room, on the top floor of one of Seattle’s finest hotels. She looked stunning as she stood near the entrance talking to the guests. She held her hair back with a satin headband and wore a full-length, sleeveless pink silk dress, with a scalloped neckline and a pair of matching low heeled pumps. A pair of emerald earrings completed the ensemble. She didn’t realize the captivating image she made. She was too busy worrying about the man watching her from across the room and the last conversation they’d had.
“What do you mean I’m not invited?” Dominic said as Brenda checked her reflection in her closet mirror. He stood in the doorway and watched her.
She adjusted her hair. “You’re not invited.”
“Why not?”
“Because this event is about business. I want to announce how we’ve been funded, that’s all.”
He sat on the bed exasperated. “I’m paying for a party I can’t even attend?”
“You’re not paying for anything.”
“You wouldn’t be able to have this party if it wasn’t for me.”
She kissed him on the forehead. “And I’m very grateful.” She looked at her reflection again. “But I think it is better that you remain an anonymous investor.”
“And remain the anonymous man in your life.”
She turned to him wary. “What do you mean?”