by Sandra Paul
His room? She struggled to breathe. She honestly didn’t want to drive anywhere, and she wasn’t interested in making an appearance down in the dining room. “Your room,” she decided in a daring rush.
His eyes flared, and his lips curved in a satisfied smile. “Good choice. Should I go ahead and order? Do you have any preferences?”
“You decide.” Food was the last thing she could think about right now.
“Come on over then at…” He checked his watch, “…how ’bout eight?”
She nodded, and he sauntered back across the hall. Lauren shut the door then leaned against it a moment to catch her breath. The other night in his arms she hadn’t been so nervous. It’s just the anticipation, she told herself. The realization that this was it—The Big Night.
Excitement made her tremble as she dressed for dinner, she told herself. She’d bathed and was in her robe applying her eye makeup when another knock sounded.
Her hand jerked a little. She swallowed, trying to ease her suddenly tight throat. It appeared Rafe was more impatient than she’d realized. She tightened her sash and answered the door.
“Flowers for you, Miss Connor,” the bellhop said, cradling a huge vase in his arms.
Lauren’s eyes widened. Roses. Red roses. At least two dozen, beautiful, long-stemmed, wonderfully fragrant roses.
No one had ever sent her roses before.
She clasped a hand to her throat and stepped aside as the man came in to set the flowers on a table. She knew a wide smile was on her face as she reached for her purse to tip him. She couldn’t help it.
He turned and waved away her offering. “Mr. Mitchell always takes care of that. Have a nice evening.” With a nod, he went out the door.
Lauren’s smile faded a little. Mr. Mitchell always takes care of that? She searched for a card and found one tucked among the green leaves. “For a Beautiful Woman. Rafe.” Foolish disappointment pricked her. It was a nice compliment—obviously the only compliment Rafe could think of today. She was glad he thought she was beautiful, but she wished he’d signed the card “Love, Rafe.”
Still, just because he hadn’t said it yet, didn’t mean he didn’t feel it. She stroked a silky red petal. Before the night was over, she was certain he’d say the words she was longing to hear.
She went back to getting ready. She smoothed moisturizer on all over her body, then lightly touched what Jay called “hot spots” with perfume. Behind her ears. Between her breasts. Daringly, above the juncture of her thighs. She slipped on black underwear that was nothing more than a few strings of lace with a triangle patch at the front. She put on silky nylons—the really sexy kind that clipped on to garters. She’d never felt so sexy, so seductive in her life!
She couldn’t wear a bra. The cut of the black dress didn’t allow it. At least having small breasts meant she didn’t need much support, she thought, as she drew the spaghetti straps over her shoulders. She looked at herself in the mirror. The front of the dress was fairly modest. The V-neckline was low, but not too much so. The skirt of the dress wasn’t too tight, nor was it especially short. The hem swirled just above her knees. No, it was the back that made the dress so daring. She twisted to look at it in the mirror. Talk about inviting a draft! The back was cut low—dipping well past her waist. The white skin of her shoulders and back looked shockingly bare against the black material.
But that was okay. Lauren squared her shoulders and straightened her spine, then stepped into her black heels.
She drew a deep breath and picked up her purse. At eight o’clock precisely, she knocked on Rafe’s door.
He immediately opened it.
“Oh!” She stared at his jeans and casual gray pullover shirt.
A wicked smile played around his mouth as his gaze skimmed her body. “Oh, ye-ah,” he drawled.
Lauren started to turn away. “I didn’t realize—this is too fancy—”
“This is just right.” Rafe grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his room. “You look beautiful, Lauren. Really.” There was that word again. But it was okay, she supposed, when there was such warmth in his voice when he said it.
His room was nice, decorated in shades of blue and gold. The bed seemed awfully big, though, to Lauren’s wide gaze. It dominated almost half the room. A fire burned in the white marble fireplace. Soft music flowed from the sound system.
Rafe squeezed her fingers. “Would you like some wine before we eat?”
Lauren hated wine. “Sure.” It might help relax her. Still holding her hand, he led her over to the small table in front of the fire, set with white linen, covered dishes and flickering candles.
While he poured the wine, she said, “Thank you for the flowers, Rafe. They’re lovely.”
“Glad you like them.” He handed her a glass. “Are you hungry? Would you like to eat now?”
“Sure.” Her voice sounded strange, so she drank some wine to clear it. Her lips almost puckered it tasted so dry. “That would be nice.”
He stepped behind her to draw out her chair—and sucked in a breath.
“What?” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Nothing.” His voice sounded strangled. “That’s just—some dress.”
Lauren blushed, and he grinned.
They started eating. Lauren was sure the food was good; she just couldn’t seem to taste it. The way her stomach was knotting up the dinner could be cardboard for all she knew. There was so much else to worry about. Like what would happen after dinner.
The soup smelled delicious… but it had a faint hint of garlic. She set it aside.
The salad was good—but crunchy. Surely it didn’t sound as loud to Rafe as it did to her as she chewed? Just in case it did, she only had a couple of bites of that, too. She speared a piece of asparagus, and tried to start a conversation, wanting to fill the silence. “I thought the meeting went really well—”
“I don’t want to talk about business, Lauren.”
“Oh.” She ate another bite, trying to come up with a better topic. “I heard it snowed in the city today.”
“That’s nice.”
Lauren stared at him, then looked down at her plate. Why was this so hard? she wondered as she took another bite of asparagus. This was supposed to be easy, fun, being together. But nothing seemed easy tonight.
She ate all her asparagus, three bites of steak—and passed on the potato.
Rafe put down his fork and frowned at her. “Aren’t you hungry?”
She shook her head.
“Not even for the chocolate mousse?”
She shook her head again.
He stared at her a moment, and his eyes slowly darkened. He pushed back his chair.
Oh, oh, he’s moving on to the next course, Lauren thought with a sudden flutter of panic, which just happens to be me.
He stood up and she tensed. She watched him as he began to turn off all the lights until only the candles, the fireplace and one lamp remained to light the room.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice squeaking a little as he reached for the last switch.
He paused. “I want to show you something.”
She was sure that he did. She just wasn’t sure she was ready to see it.
He switched off the lamp. The flames in the fireplace glowed and the candlelight flickered in the darkened room. He walked over to the window and held out his hand. “Come here.”
Oh, God. He expected her to walk over to him. On legs that felt oddly weak.
Slowly, she stood up and walked toward him, placing her hand in his. His warm fingers closed around hers. He drew her closer, then put his arm across her shoulders, turning with her to face the window. “Look.” He reached out and pulled the cord to open the curtain.
The blue velvet drew back slowly, revealing a scene from a Christmas card. Light from the hotel spilled out across the snowy grounds, revealing pines and bushes and bare maple trees frosted with the gently falling snow.
“It’s beautiful, Rafe.”
&nb
sp; His arm tightened, and he bent to kiss her. And he tasted like the wine, but she liked it on his tongue. He kissed her deeply, tenderly, until Lauren felt as though she was in a dream, with the firelight dancing in the shadows, and the snow falling outside. And Rafe’s arms, warm and strong around her.
“I knew you’d enjoy the view,” he said huskily. His hands stroked slowly up her bare back, then down again, slipping beneath the material. Lauren trembled and burrowed closer to his body. He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “It’s fantastic in the summer, too. And in the fall.”
He kissed her again, capturing her mouth. But Lauren found herself unable to give in to the passion that had swept her away before. Her mind felt oddly detached from her body, his last comment lingering in her thoughts.
The seduction had been well thought out—the inn, the beautiful room. The candles, music, flowers and wine. Meticulous in every detail, just like one of his takeovers. But while all this was new and wonderful to her, he’d been here before. Possibly with many women.
She’d known that, of course. She’d realized she wasn’t the first for him. But she suddenly realized how desperately she needed to know that she’d be the last.
She broke away from his kiss, turning her face into his shoulder. His lips brushed her temple. He toyed with the strap of her dress. “You look so beautiful tonight.”
That word again, she thought. She swallowed, and whispered, “I don’t need compliments, Rafe. I just need to know what you feel.”
He slid the strap down, and bent to kiss her cool skin. “I want you, Lauren. I want to make love to you.” He pulled her tightly against his hard body. “Come to bed with me.”
A small pain bloomed in her chest, as if she’d taken a sudden blow to the heart. “I don’t have my nightgown,” she murmured. It was a silly thing to say, but she couldn’t seem to concentrate.
She could feel his cheek move as he smiled against her hair. “You’re not going to need it.”
The pain in her chest lingered, spreading—until she had to move out of his arms. She stepped away from him, to stare out the window at the cold white snow falling on the trees.
He hesitated behind her, then moved nearer again. “What’s the matter, Lauren? Don’t you want this?” His strong arms came around her as he spoke, crossing beneath her breasts. “Don’t you want me?”
He pulled her back against him. Her shoulders rested against his chest, and the evidence of his desire nestled intimately against her bottom.
For a long moment, she savored his heat, his closeness. The feeling of safety and completeness she felt while held so firmly against him. Yes, she wanted this—she wanted him—but all of him. Not just his body, not just this night, but his love. Because without love, there’d be no safety, no fulfillment in his arms.
“Yes, I want you,” she admitted softly, and instantly his arms tightened, holding her even closer. He nuzzled her cheek.
She turned her head away, but lifted her hands to cover his. Holding onto him, she added, “But although I’ve changed these last few weeks—my hair, my clothes—I’m still the same inside, Rafe. I believe in love and I also believe that without it, sex is simply a temporary physical release. Not the emotional bonding it’s meant to be.”
She clutched his hands tighter, and her voice grew huskier. “I want my first time—my every time—to be with a man who loves me. I need love in order for all this to be… right.”
Rafe stiffened. Lauren waited, but he remained quiet, his arms still locked around her. The silence drew out, speaking more clearly than any words he could say.
And after a while, she shut her eyes. Tears burned behind her lids. She’d been fooling herself. There was nothing for him to say.
She opened her eyes again, and drew a harsh shuddering breath. She moved out of his arms, letting the cold shiver through her. The pain inside her spread, consuming her heart.
“Laurie?”
She couldn’t look at him for fear that she might cry. A few weeks ago, she might have given in, been desperate enough to take what little he offered. But she’d learned a lot about herself lately. She was willing to forego a white wedding. She was even willing to temporarily set aside thoughts of marriage. But she wasn’t willing to give up on love.
She hurt—every inch of her hurt—from the effort it took not to step back into his arms. Because of the lump in her throat her voice sounded strained as she said, “No, Rafe, I don’t want this, after all. It’s not enough for me.”
He didn’t love her.
So, still without looking at him, she walked out the door.
Chapter Fifteen
He wasn’t enough for her.
For the next week, whenever the thought surfaced, Rafe grimly forced it down again. He tried to concentrate on more important things, like the final report on the Bartlett takeover. Spread sheets, proposals and budgets. He got ready for another trip—one for up north Lauren had scheduled long ago—but then canceled it, deciding his time would be better spent and his thoughts more fully occupied working up a cost projection on another merger. But on Friday, as he caught himself staring out his office window, wondering what she was doing, he finally admitted none of it was working.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Lauren, stop trying to figure out how the night he’d planned so carefully could have gone so wrong.
He’d bought her expensive flowers, a rare wine. He’d plied her with delicious food—that she’d hardly eaten—in an effort to give her a night she’d never forget. They’d talked. They’d touched. They’d kissed.
And she’d run away.
He swiveled his chair to face his desk, the memory cutting through him all over again. Letting her walk out the door had tom him apart. He’d wanted to argue, to talk her out of her decision. To burn away her last-minute qualms with desire. But he’d let her leave and had paced his room for an hour, giving her time to change her mind, giving himself time to cool off. Then he’d gone to her room to try to straighten things out, only to discover she’d left.
Rafe’s hand closed on a sheet of figures he’d compiled. He hated the way she had made him feel. Worried and tense with an emotion that had felt sickeningly like fear.
Still, he’d kept his cool, rationalizing that he’d smooth things over when he got home. He’d wrapped up the Bartlett project as quickly as possible the next day, and headed straight to her house.
He’d knocked and knocked at Lauren’s door until finally Jay had opened hers. She’d told him that Lauren wasn’t home, to leave her alone. That Lauren didn’t want to see him anymore.
Pride prevented him from going back after that. No way was he going somewhere he wasn’t wanted; he’d had enough of that as a kid. So he’d focused on the fact that he’d see her at work on Monday. He’d figured she’d have to talk to him then.
He’d lined up his defenses and arguments. Prepared his apologies and justifications. But she hadn’t come in to hear them. Instead, all he’d gotten was a call from personnel, telling him Lauren was using her vacation time as her two weeks’ notice. She’d quit over the phone—no excuses, no regrets.
Okay, fine, he’d thought. He got the message. He’d leave her alone. Except, thoughts of her wouldn’t leave him alone. He’d find himself staring at her office as if she was still in there. As if she’d come through that door any second to give him one of her disapproving, scolding glances. One of her concerned looks. One of her smiles.
But she wouldn’t. So he’d better get used to it.
He turned to stare out the window again. He didn’t blame her for walking out, not really. He knew he wasn’t the kind of man to fit her dreams. But if she’d been going to say no, then why the hell hadn’t she done it sooner, instead of putting them both through agony? Because she’d wanted him, too, damn it. Just as much as he’d wanted her. Did she think he didn’t know that? She might have fooled herself into believing she didn’t, but she couldn’t fool him. He’d seen the desire in her eyes. He’d felt the trembling o
f her lips. A few more minutes—a few more seconds—and she would have been his. At least for a little while.
If only he hadn’t made that slipup, mentioning that he’d been in the hotel before. But that had been long, long ago. Before she’d even started working for him. He would have explained all that… except he hadn’t wanted to get into his past too deeply.
He didn’t want to remind her all over again that he wasn’t the kind of man she wanted. She’d said it herself when she’d started on her quest. Everyone isn’t like you, Rafe. Only capable of brief affairs. He’d wanted to argue with her evaluation, but he couldn’t. They both knew he’d never had a “real” relationship. That he wasn’t good “forever” material, a great candidate for marriage and family.
Hell, he hadn’t even had a family since he was twelve. He’d learned to live with that. He’d had to, in order to survive being passed on from one foster home to another. And somehow, moving on—not getting too attached—had become a way of life. The marines had suited him perfectly—traveling from base to base, country to country.
College had been another temporary stop. Then he’d moved from firm to firm, fighting his way up the corporate ladder till he’d reached his present position at Kane Haley, Inc.
This was the place he’d stayed the longest, where he’d finally felt he could catch his breath. He’d even made a few friends here, like Kane. Most of all, this was the place where he’d found Lauren.
He’d known her three years—three years! There was no one else in his life he knew as well as he did her. Or cared about more. From the moment he’d met her, he’d liked her. They’d been good friends from the beginning. He’d never pushed for more, he’d never even thought of it— probably because he’d always known he wasn’t right for her. But then she’d said a man was what she’d wanted, and everything had changed. After their kiss, he couldn’t help wanting to be more than just her friend. To be her lover, an important part of her life, for a time.