by Pamela Nowak
He nodded, knowing she was right, and let his gaze drift over her while the waiter appeared with the first course.
Her white skin, usually hidden, drew him and he experienced a small thrill that she’d forsaken her usual clothing choices.
“Daniel?”
“I’m sorry. My mind was a thousand miles away.”
“I thought as much.” She lifted a spoonful of watercress soup to her mouth. The edge of her tongue flitted to the spoon for the briefest of moments before her lips touched it.
Daniel shifted in his chair and concentrated on not spilling his own soup until the silence became too provocative. “So, how does it feel to be a primary operator?”
“Good. Really good.”
“It’s a pretty major accomplishment, from what I hear.” He waited for the waiter to clear the soup bowls, then leaned forward. “I’m pleased for you. I wish I’d told you that earlier, too.”
She mouthed a quiet “thank you,” as the main course of beefsteak and steaming boiled potatoes arrived. The waiter served glasses of deep red wine, then disappeared.
Sarah cut into her steak and glanced across the table. “So, are we starting over?”
Daniel shrugged, her directness no longer surprising him. “Yes and no, I guess.” He supposed they could go on all night, making small talk about nothing. His stomach knotted. The moment would disappear if he didn’t seize it. He set down his fork and laid his hand on the table.
Sarah grasped it and waited.
He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb, drawing confidence, then looked into her violet eyes. “I think we’re way past starting things, aren’t we?” At her tentative smile, he continued. “Sarah, you’re not the woman I would have chosen, but you are impossible to ignore. Truth be told, ignoring you is the last thing on my mind. It’s time to let myself take a risk on life for once.”
Sarah swallowed and nodded.
“I’d like to see where this takes us.”
“I can’t live within the boundaries of propriety that you’re accustomed to. You know that.”
“I know, but maybe I need to set new boundaries, or at least not worry so much when the old ones are crossed.”
She nodded again and squeezed his hand, then pulled away. Bringing both hands together to her mouth, she sighed, then lowered them and looked him in the eye. “And you’ll expect the same of me?”
He nodded. “I’d like to know the Sarah that’s underneath the telegrapher and suffragist and do-gooder.”
“I’d like that, too.”
“Here’s to a fresh start, then.” He lifted his wineglass.
“To taking chances.”
“And all that they bring.”
They clinked their glasses together and sipped, the moment heady in all they had not said.
Daniel watched her, letting the silence play out. Her face filled with satisfaction as she savored each bit of tender steak and he marveled at how such a simple act could stir him so much. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”
“Beautiful scares me.”
Her words were light but he knew better than to dismiss them. He debated about how to answer her, afraid of scaring her away, afraid to let them go without saying anything. “It shouldn’t. There are very few people who are self-confident, intelligent, and talented as well as beautiful. You shouldn’t have to hide from any part of who you are.”
She caught his gaze. “Words of wisdom from a man who keeps his passion under wraps?”
He smiled, allowing her retreat. “Passion scares me.”
“It shouldn’t.” She smiled, an acknowledgment of the lightheartedness in his voice, then sobered. She stared at him, her chest rising and falling. “Passion is so much a part of you. What you did yesterday, the chocolate rose, the telegram, and the incredible anticipation you stirred in me, was full of passion, very deliberate passion.”
Traces of her sultry tones hung in the air and Daniel grew hard at the images they suggested, the passion that was Sarah. He ached with the need to let go of his restraint and follow the images, but, first, he needed her to understand.
“When I was a boy,” he began, then paused and drew a breath. “When I was a boy, my father used to take a switch to me if I lost control. He’d beat me until it bled, as my penance. Passion had no role in correct behavior. By the time I was six or seven, I had smothered whatever passion I felt and quit trying to live any other way. I avoided temptations and accepted Father’s narrow life. I never really knew anything else.”
He lifted his gaze and caught the smile Sarah offered, thankful it held acceptance and understanding, no pity.
“I knew Mary from the time I learned to walk. She was a gentle guide, the perfect contrast to my father. Somehow, she always made me see things in a different light, kept my passion in check in her own way, but never killed it. I needed her for that. Otherwise, I think I would have turned hard and bitter and rebelled until I destroyed myself.”
Sarah nodded. “You loved her?” she asked.
Daniel recognized the unasked question in her tone, her need to know if his heart was free. He caught Sarah’s hand and held it tightly. “Yes, I loved her, and a part of me always will. But I don’t think I was ever in love with her. Until now, I never even realized there was a difference.”
“I think there’s quite a difference.”
He raised her hand to his lips, kissed it, and let it go. “Tonight’s not about my father, or about Mary. I think we’re done with them now. I’d like to let them be.”
“I think I’d like that, too.” She dawdled with her remaining food, one hand drifting to her abdomen, and she sighed.
Daniel leaned forward. “I meant what I said, earlier, about you being beautiful. The dress is perfect.”
“It’s tight and it’s impractical. You don’t know how hard it was to walk into the store and pick this out.”
“Yes, I do.” He sobered and lowered his voice. “Do you have any idea what it did to me, seeing you in it?”
“I think so.” A glint lit her eyes and she also leaned forward until he had a clear view of her cleavage. “But maybe you ought to tell me, just in case.”
Daniel stared, his body tensing. He glanced around, assuring himself of their seclusion, then raised his eyebrows at her. “You are wicked, you know that.”
“I know that. Call it passion. You were going to tell me, weren’t you?”
He smiled at her teasing and danced around the question, forcing her to wait. “You know I don’t much like bustles, don’t you?”
“I know, but tell me anyway.” The words were a challenge but her eyes had partially closed and her breasts strained against her bodice.
Daniel’s breath quickened, matching Sarah’s. Let go. Under the table, he was hard as a rock. Let go. His heart pounded. It was time.
“You promise not to slap me?” he asked.
She nodded her head, her lips parted, waiting.
He leaned even farther forward and stared into her eyes, feeling her breath on his face. “I love the way the front of the skirt hugs your thighs every time you step forward, teasing me, before your step changes and I have to imagine again. I love the way your breasts threaten to spill out the top of that thing when you take a deep breath. Hell, I love waiting for those breaths. I love how you can be fashionably dressed and still look like you’re wearing nothing but your corset and I love thinking about what I’d do to you if it were just your corset.”
Sarah exhaled audibly and swallowed. “And you were also going to tell me what it does to you?”
“It makes my heart beat hard enough so I can feel it. It makes my own breath stop. It makes me throb until it hurts.” He held her stare, waiting.
“All that?”
“All that.” He glanced at the door, then at Sarah. “Now, do you want dessert here or shall we go somewhere more private?”
* * * * *
Less than a half hour later, Sarah and Daniel stood, shivering, on the worn side path of t
he Petterman house. He squeezed her hands and nodded in the direction of the back door. “You head on into the kitchen and warm up. Blast the cold.”
His words echoed Sarah’s sentiments and she fought to keep her teeth from chattering. Daniel’s offer was tempting. Her feet, in their silly evening slippers, were numb and her shoulders very nearly frozen. Drawn, she eyed the house, and frowned at its dark windows. “I’d hate to wake the girls.”
“They’re spending the night with Abby Thompson, so you’ve nothing to worry about.” He gave her a slight push toward the door. “Now get in there and warm up. I’ll be in myself just as soon as I get the buggy ready. No sense freezing.”
She watched him disappear into the barn, then made her way into the unlit house. They’d left the Grand Central, intent on a slow, passionate stroll home under the bright stars, only to discover the evening’s earlier unseasonable warmth had fled on a bitter west wind. They’d made it the four blocks to Daniel’s house, but he’d insisted on hitching up the buggy to take her the rest of the way to her boarding house.
Glad for a few minutes out of the cold, Sarah fumbled in the dim moonlight, searching for the matches and lantern she suspected were somewhere within reach. Her hand located the metal match holder, then the lantern. Lighting it, she stood in the soft glow and waited for her eyes to adjust, then made her way into the kitchen. She dropped another log into the stove and poked at the embers until log caught.
The fire sparked, crackling in the silent room, and she jumped. Laughing at herself, she realized that though the icy gusts might have shifted her priorities for a while, she was still wound up tight as a watch spring. She’d suspected for a long time that Daniel would be passionate but, Lord, did that man make her pot boil.
A few extra minutes together sure wouldn’t bother her.
She shed her wrap and moved around the kitchen, seeking ingredients for cocoa and humming to herself. Within minutes, a pan of milk simmered on the stove. Sarah searched the cupboards, discovered a few peppermint sticks to add to the cocoa, and gathered two heavy white cups.
She was standing at the stove, stirring the mixture, when Daniel entered the house.
“Brrrrr.” He rubbed his hands together and shook his head with vigor, as if trying to shake off the chill. “What happened to our heat wave?”
Sarah turned and gestured to the stove. “Cocoa’s almost ready.”
“Good. Buggy’s waiting for the horses. Figured I’d warm up first, then get them hitched. That cocoa will hit the spot.”
She poured the cocoa and handed him a cup. Their fingers touched and a molten shiver ran down Sarah’s spine. Shocked by the intensity of her reaction, she pulled her hand away.
Daniel shifted his weight, his gaze focused on Sarah while he absorbed the heat of the cookstove.
She sipped at her cocoa, feeling his eyes devour her.
After a few moments, he took off his jacket and hung it next to her wrap on a hook near the door. His footsteps echoed in the quiet house as he returned to her, stopping so closely behind her that she could feel his peppermint-scented breath on her neck. “I’m glad you thought of this. I wasn’t quite ready to say goodnight.”
She shivered again and felt her heartbeat quicken. It was almost as if the walk home hadn’t interrupted the night at all. “You haven’t said much of anything since we left the hotel.”
He touched her upper arms, his hands hot and sensual in their very stillness. “Nor have you,” he said.
Knowing his words were true, she nodded.
“Guess I wasn’t quite sure where I stood.”
Sarah turned and faced him, his fragile admission surprising her. “You’re worried about where you stand?”
He nodded, his gaze soft and slightly vulnerable. “I’ve never said anything like I did back there before. I wasn’t sure I did it right. I didn’t mean to insult—”
“Oh, Daniel.” She touched his cheek and shook her head. “You didn’t insult me and you most certainly did it right. You turned my legs to jelly and my thoughts to mush.”
He kissed her palm, a slow smile creeping across his face, and he breathed in, as if savoring the words. “Then you wouldn’t slap me if I took you in my arms and kissed you in the middle of my kitchen?”
She pulled her hand away and threw him a seductive smile of her own. “I guess that would depend on the kiss.”
“Let’s try this one,” he whispered and drew her close. His hands danced across her back and his mouth descended on hers, touching softly against her lips. She opened her mouth to him and the kiss deepened, then he pulled away and raised one quizzical eyebrow.
“Mmmmm, not bad,” she murmured. “Of course, if I had something to compare it to—”
He ended her words with another kiss, so probing and intense that it numbed her. He pulled back again, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through her. “Do you have any idea how I’ve been dying to run my fingers through your hair?”
Lord, the intensity in his eyes.
Sarah swallowed. “Be my guest.”
His fingers slid around her head, pulling her close yet again as he touched her hair with near reverence. His lips played upon hers, making her his own.
Sarah’s heart hammered in her chest. She drew Daniel’s hand, placing it over her heart, sharing it with him until she felt his breathing match hers and knew his heart pounded in sync. His fingers brushed the bare skin above the top of her bodice, caressing it, while the base of his hand cupped her breast. She arched into his palm and he touched her nipple, hardening it between his fingers.
“God, Sarah, what you do to me.” The words were ragged, uttered on his hot breath.
“Show me,” she told him, and laid her hand against his chest, kneading it.
He leaned his forehead on hers and drew in a breath. “I should take you home.”
She sagged against him, moved by his honor, knowing he was right. If she didn’t take her heart and run, now, it would no longer be hers. She drew back, weighing the risk, and realized it was too late.
Heaven help me, I love this man.
The thought seeped through her body inch by incredible inch until her skin tingled with it. Tonight was passion’s gift, waiting to be seized. To end the evening now was an option she was not willing to consider.
She slid her hand over his rock-solid pectoral muscles and down his lean stomach, then paused. “Show me.”
Daniel groaned and his breathing slowed. “God how I want you, Sarah.”
She nodded, caught in the deep intensity of his gaze. “And I, you.”
He closed his eyes and sighed, then resumed eye contact. “We should—”
“No more shoulds, Daniel,” she touched his lips with a single finger, quieting him. “Just us.” She validated the words with a smile and lowered her other hand until she surrounded his straining hardness. “Take me to your bed.”
“Sweet heaven.”
“Now.”
He shifted, moving away from her, and lifted her into his arms, then strode out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Each movement sent a wave a pleasure racing through Sarah’s body and she pressed against him. He kicked open a door, moved into the dark room, and set her gently on the bed.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Daniel kissed her hand and moved away. Seconds later, the scratch of a match sounded and he lit the bedside lamp, lowering its wick until a subtle golden glimmer surrounded them.
He shed his shoes and tie, then loosened the studs on his shirt with agonizing deliberation, a playful sparkle in his eyes.
Anticipation gripped Sarah and a small smile tugged at her lips. Could he possibly know what it did to her when he made her wait?
He answered her question with a lazy smile of his own, tugged his shirt open and dropped it to the floor. His stunning muscles gleamed in the lamplight, his chest and biceps toned by years of carpentry work.
Sarah’s smile broadened at the perfection he k
ept so hidden under his starched white shirts.
“Come here,” he whispered. “You have something I want.”
She slid from the bed and moved toward him, eager to touch his skin.
He caught her hand, kissed it, and placed it at her side. Touching the hollow at the base of her throat, he slid his fingers deftly across the swell of her breasts, light as butterfly kisses, then reached for the top-most of the tiny pearl buttons that ran down the front of her basque. He slid it open, moving downward until the garment was loosened.
He kissed her, once, and slipped his hands under the straps of her dress until the whole of it melted into a pool at her feet.
Her heart hammered but still, she waited.
Daniel loosened the tie of her single petticoat and it crumpled to the floor with her dress. He unbuttoned her low-cut chemise, untied her drawers and let both items drop.
“My God, Sarah, you are exquisite.” His voice was heavy with tension. He shifted, loosened his pants, and stepped out of them.
Sarah’s breath caught and her knees weakened. “So are you.”
He stepped forward and lifted her from the puddle of clothing.
Flush against him, her skin met his. She felt his heartbeat, a mirror of her own. His skin, hot under her fingers, was slick with desire, every pulsating inch of it.
He carried her to the bed and placed her on it. He slid her slippers from her feet and removed her stockings, then trailed tiny kisses across her toes and up her legs.
She thrashed as he touched her inner thighs then stilled as he rose above her and kissed her on the mouth. The delicate kisses gave way and he consumed her, probing with his tongue until she returned the action in kind. His mouth covered her, moistening her breasts, and his fingers stroked her until she moaned.
She kneaded his chest, feeling his heart beneath her hand and she brushed her fingers across his nipple. He shivered and she kissed him there before moving her hand down his stomach. He shivered again, gasping, as she surrounded him.
Daniel’s fingers stroked her, gently at first, then with gathering intensity. She fell back, panting, and her fingers left him. Her heart roared in her ears and she fought to catch her breath, thrashing at his touch.