Forbidden Temptation

by Gwynne Forster

  “Nobody ever saw me dressed this way,” she said to herself, “but if this outfit shocks ’em, tomorrow night their hair will stand up.”

  She loitered near the entrance to the ballroom where the predinner drinks were being served, looking over the crowd. After a few minutes, she saw Luther and headed directly to him. Before she took twenty steps, Trevor Johns attempted to detain her.

  “I’m with someone,” she told him, hardly sparing the man a glance.

  “But—

  “Sorry.” She kept walking. By the time she reached Luther, a woman she didn’t know was attempting to get his attention. She put a hand on his arm and stepped between him and the woman.

  “Hi. I’ve been looking all over for you. See any champagne around here?” She had no intention of drinking champagne, but she knew what the mention of it would suggest to him.

  His eyes nearly doubled in size, and his Adam’s apple bobbed furiously. “Not tonight, you don’t,” he said, forgetting the woman who wanted his attention.

  “Well, what can I drink? I just got out of bed, and I’m thirsty.”

  “Come with me,” Luther told her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you arrived on a motorcycle.”

  She slipped her hand into his. “Don’t you like how I look? The heels are kind of high, but other than that—”

  “You don’t look like yourself, but the effect is fantastic. It suits you.”

  “Thanks. I was a little worried about making such a drastic change. You deserve a kiss.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “Unfortunately, I don’t always get what I deserve.”

  She took the glass of white wine that he handed her and lowered her lashes. “I’m not sure how I should interpret that statement.”

  “It doesn’t need interpretation, Ruby. It’s as plain as your face. Did a man bring you here tonight?”

  “No. I checked in around noon, and I’ve been up in my room resting all afternoon. If Opal hadn’t called me, I’d probably still be asleep. She said you were asking for me.”

  Luther set his wine on the bar and grasped her left arm. “Who’s escorting you to the gala tomorrow night?”

  “Good heavens, Luther. I didn’t think I needed an escort in this group.”

  His frown would have suggested to anyone who didn’t know him that he was either perplexed or searching for something elusive. But she knew him. And when he said, “Of course you do. At least half the people here are strangers,” he let her know that he’d rather she wasn’t unescorted among Lyman’s basketball buddies.

  “You want the job?” she asked him and, in order to appear less aggressive, added, “You can have glazed raspberries on your cheesecake.”

  His gaze warned her not to push the envelope. “The only compensation I’d ever want for escorting you is you. Make no mistake about that. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  She watched him walk away. He was telling her something, but she had to be careful. She knew what she wanted, but wasn’t sure about him. She couldn’t let him think she was easy and not just because he was a man she wanted, but because he was Luther, and she cared about Luther’s perception of her as a woman. Her manicurist had said you only have to let the man know you want him…But how the devil did you do that without cheapening yourself?

  He returned with a plate of grilled shrimp on skewers and tiny quiches. “I don’t think you should drink wine on a empty stomach,” he told her. “This is likely to be a long evening. Besides, the shrimp are delicious.”

  “Thanks. Let’s share this. I want room for the barbecue. By the way, did you see any champagne?”

  “Plenty of it, but every bottle bore a sign that read, Not for Ruby.”

  “Really? Are you serious? Oh dear, I’ve ruined my good name.”

  “Of course not. I was just yanking your chain. Let’s go to the dining room. They’re already seating.”

  “You mean it’s a sit-down barbecue?” she asked him.

  “You bet, and the tables are breathtaking. Sorry, man. Find your own woman. This one’s taken for now, tomorrow, tomorrow night and the next day and night.”

  She looked to her left and saw Trevor Johns looking like a whipped puppy. “Trevor, didn’t I tell you when I came in here that I was with someone? I’m not going to leave him and go anywhere with you. Now please leave me be.”

  Trevor left them, but she could see that the man had irritated Luther. “Are you with me because you wanted to avoid him? Is that it?”

  She had learned that offense was often the best defense. “Luther Biggens, don’t get my dander up. There must be at least half a dozen unattached men here. Do you think I couldn’t be with one of them if I wanted to? I’m with you because I prefer to be with you and you seem to feel the same way.”

  “Did you put on that red shirt because I like you in red?” he asked with a sheepish grin.

  “Trust me, I put it on because I knew you’d hate it,” she said. “Come on and let’s go find a table.”

  He took her hand, and she let him hold it while she struggled to make herself breathe regularly and to force her nerves to calm down. As they neared the head table, a waiter asked Luther for his registration number and, to her delight, he seated them at a table beside the bride-and groom-to-be. The large bowl of red and yellow roses in the center of the table emitted a mild, almost seductive perfume, and in the glow of the half dozen sixteen-inch tapered candles, the man who held her hand looked ever more certainly to be the man of her dreams. She wondered how she looked to him and whether her eyes sparkled with the happiness she felt.

  “Did you know they were seating us together?” he asked her. She didn’t, she told him, but since Amber had arranged the seating, she wasn’t surprised. Pearl and Wade joined them, and she thought it interesting that Luther still held on to her. She pretended that there was nothing unusual about him holding her hand, and if Pearl or Wade found it exceptional, they didn’t let on.

  She had thought she was the one who cast the net. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  Chapter 7

  “I’ll walk you to your room,” Luther told her shortly after midnight when the crowd began to thin. She’d been stifling yawns for the past hour, but hadn’t wanted to waste a minute of the chance to be with him in that romantic setting when they were man and woman rather than pals.

  She knew her smile amounted to a promise, and recognition of it seemed to flicker in his eyes. She resisted the urge to wipe away the telltale moisture that beaded her forehead. Besides, if he knew her nerves had begun a rampage throughout her body, maybe that would excite him.

  She waved at Opal and D’marcus, looked around for her other sisters and their husbands and noted that they had left as had Paige and Lyman. “Would you like anything before we go?” Luther asked her.

  “I’m fine,” she told him, “unless maybe you’re going to let me have some champagne.”

  She stared at him. How had she looked at this man for nearly thirty years and not realized how gorgeous he was? His grin began around his lips and spread to his eyes. Large brown eyes that twinkled like evening stars. She sucked in her breath, reached for his hand and said, “Never mind the champagne.”

  “If you didn’t drink any champagne,” he said, “that was your decision, not mine. I’ll give you anything you want. All you have to do is ask.”

  If she hadn’t been sober, that comment would have done the job. He walked with her to her room, took her key and opened the door. “Thanks for spending the evening with me. I’ll call you tomorrow morning.” He leaned down, kissed her cheek and left her.

  With her mouth a gaping hole, she backed into the room, closed the door and collapsed on the bed. What had come over that man? Infuriated, she dialed the operator and asked for his room number.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can connect you to his room, but it’s against policy to give out room numbers.” She thanked the operator and hung up. She didn’t want to talk with Luther Biggens on the phone; she wanted to punch hi
m in the chest. She struggled out of the boots and kicked them across the room. Tugging out of those skintight leather pants only exacerbated her temper. She never wanted to see them again.

  Damn him. She’d show him. Sweet as she’d been to him all evening, he could at least have kissed her good-night. But she hadn’t wanted a mere kiss; she’d wanted him; and she still did. “All right, buddy,” she said aloud, “you’re not the only good-looking man at this party. Mama always said you shouldn’t spend too much time blowing up a man’s ego, and I think she was right.” She jumped up and stamped her feet. How could he do this? He couldn’t be stupid. She must have thrown that man fifty cues this evening. Oh, hell! She stamped her foot again. “I’ll show him!”

  Luther started toward the other end of the hall to his own room, thought better of it, got into the elevator and went back downstairs where he met Amber and Paul coming out of the bar.

  “Where’s Ruby?” Amber asked.

  “She’s in her room. I’m not ready to turn in yet.” He didn’t missed Amber’s raised eyebrows or the censoring look Paul gave her, as if he knew his wife would have more to say on the topic.

  “I’ll take Amber upstairs,” Paul said. “Wait for me right here. I don’t want to spend an hour searching for you in this crowd.”

  He saw the flirtatious pout Amber gave her husband and figured that he didn’t know the Lockhart women as well as he’d thought. Throughout the evening, Ruby had sent him invitations and, to make certain he understood, she buttressed them with innuendos. He intended to disabuse her of the notion that she had only to snap her fingers and he’d jump. He liked a woman who went after what she wanted, but he also liked subtlety in the way she did it. She’d had her fun pretending that their having made love to each other wasn’t of any special moment, and then she’d rejected him in the most painful manner. Recently, she’d made it clear that she’d changed her mind, or maybe she realized that he meant something to her. He couldn’t be sure. He suspected that she wanted what he’d given her that night, and she wanted it badly enough to be frank about it. But he couldn’t be certain of that either.

  He wasn’t seeking revenge. But, for both their sakes, he meant to teach her a lesson. She couldn’t turn him on and off like a faucet that never dried up. He refused to allow any woman to be that sure of him, no matter how much he loved her, and he loved Ruby.

  He saw Paul approaching him, a tall and powerfully built man who wore self-confidence the way some women wore fine jewelry. That quiet dignity was the first thing that had attracted him to Paul when they’d served together as navy SEALS. Knowing that Amber had such a man for her husband gave him an immense feeling of happiness.

  “Man, when these women make up their minds, they don’t give a hoot about anything else, come hell or high water,” Paul said.

  “You could have phoned me and I wouldn’t have waited for you. First things first, man.”

  Paul released a short laugh. “Not to worry. She’ll be glad to see me half an hour from now. Let’s go to the bar where it’s more quiet.” They did, and he ordered a vodka and tonic. “What are you drinking?” Luther ordered Scotch whiskey and club soda. “What’s happening between you and Ruby?” Paul asked him. “Something is, and everybody knows it.”

  Luther couldn’t resist a laugh, bitter though it sounded. “Everybody but Ruby, you mean.”

  “Uh-uh. She knows. I watched her all evening, and so did Amber. She’s feeling a lot for you, and she’s well aware of it.”

  “I’ve always let her twirl me around her finger, but our relationship was—”

  When he hesitated, Paul interrupted him. “Your relationship is different now. You don’t have to tell me how or when. I know it’s changed.”

  “It has…for her. It’s been this way for me since I was in my late teens.”

  Paul’s whistle split the air. “You’re kidding!”

  “Not by a long shot,” Luther said. “Get back upstairs to your wife, man. If a woman thinks she’s not getting her due, whether it’s a smile or a Valentine card, there’s no reasoning with her.”

  “Tell me about it. You know that, and you’re not even married?”

  Ruby went down to the dining room for breakfast at seven o’clock. With luck, Luther would still be asleep. She walked in and looked around. Fewer than twenty people and not one of them suited her purpose.

  “How can you look so fresh at seven in the morning?” a male voice said as she picked up a tray on her way to the buffet table.

  She spun around. Uh-oh. The great Craig Murphy.

  “I hope you don’t remember me,” he said, grinning. “Because if you don’t, maybe I’ll have a chance to make amends for the worst boo-boo I’ve ever made. I was going to read this paper while I ate breakfast, but you’d be much more pleasant company.”

  She didn’t respond to that, but collected what she wanted to eat and found a small table. As if he interpreted her move to mean that she’d like to sit with him at a table too small for a third person, he joined her with a smile.

  “Am I forgiven? We’re more than even you know, because I can never go back to that restaurant, and it’s my favorite. Let me take that tray for you,” he said, after removing the food from his own tray and placing it on the table. “Be right back.”

  “Where are you in the Lockhart hierarchy?” he asked her as he seated himself.

  “I’m the eldest,” she said. “What’s your team, Craig?” She realized that she didn’t really care, but it was a safe topic; most men enjoyed talking about themselves.

  Both of his eyebrow shot up, and his eyes widened. “Detroit.” Well, heck, she didn’t follow professional basketball, so how was she to know he was a genuine hotshot?”

  “I’m ignorant about a few other things, too,” she said. “I only recently learned that a famous TV announcer never finished high school. And until a couple of days ago, I didn’t know that a woman held the all-time best record for tennis matches won.”

  To his credit, he laughed. “What’s her name?”

  “Margaret Court. She’s Australian.”

  As they were leaving the dining room together an hour later, her gaze captured Luther sitting alone with his attention on a copy of USA Today. He wasn’t reading that paper, she thought. He’d seen her with a guy, and he was ready to make a big deal out of it. Well, she’d deal with it when she had to.

  “Who’re you going to the gala with tonight?” Craig asked her.

  Giving him a taste of honesty, she said, “I don’t know. I was supposed to go with a man who’s sitting in the dining room reading a paper, but I suspect he saw me with you—”

  “Added two and two and got eleven, eh? I’ve done that a few times. Pretend you didn’t see him.”

  She had planned to let Luther know she didn’t spend the night pining for him, but she hadn’t intended to shoot herself in the foot. She avoided complicating things by refusing a date with Craig.

  She spent the remainder of the morning in her room working out staff changes in the likely event that Marva Wright didn’t recover sufficiently to return to Everyday Opportunities, Inc., as its CEO. She hadn’t wanted to seem pushy, since she stood to gain if Marva couldn’t return to work, but she couldn’t continue doing Marva’s work as well as her own, so she’d asked Marva’s doctor.

  “If she goes to that office again,” he’d said, “it’ll be a modern-day miracle. She’ll be lucky if she’s able to walk.”

  Shortly before one, she put on her string bikini and a matching wrap skirt that showed most of her thigh when she walked. She knew it was daring, but she was hunting big game, and she needed first-rate ammunition.

  Luther hadn’t called her, and she knew he was smarting for no reason. She’d spent a lot of time the previous night thinking about their relationship, and concluded that their problems were of her making. Further, Luther could be sensitive about his leg, and she’d done nothing to reassure him that the loss of his leg and foot did not diminish him in her regard.
But, she didn’t think it appropriate to give him that assurance just then; after all, it was one o’clock, and he hadn’t bothered to acknowledge her existence.

  She took the elevator to the indoor pool. Artificial daylight, wall murals that replicated sandy beaches and palm trees that swayed gently as if in a balmy trade wind greeted her startled gaze. White lounge chairs and sea-green cabanas around the pool added to its allure. She stood at the entrance, looking around. He wasn’t there, but she knew he wouldn’t miss the chance to show her he didn’t care. He’d done it before.

  “I hope you’ve got on more under that skirt than you have up top,” Pearl said. “Girl, that bra top hardly covers your nipples.”

  “Yours would cover plenty,” Ruby told her, “if I couldn’t see right through it. Pluck the beam from your own eye, sis,” she said and winked to let Pearl know how little concern she had for the amount of flesh she exposed, provided Luther showed up.

  She sat on the edge of a big artificial boulder with a glass of lemonade on the floor beside her, looked toward the door and he walked in. She nearly sprang forward. Had he been pretending about that leg? She’d felt the plastic limb against her flesh the night they’d made love, but she didn’t get a good look at it and now socks covered it. She stared at him. Luther without long pants. Luther wearing a yellow open-collared shirt and Bermuda shorts. She caught herself and took a deep breath. What a body that man had! With his flat, muscular belly, he looked good in that getup. She swallowed hard.

  Images of herself thrashing beneath him floated through her mind, and she blew out a long breath, trying to gather her aplomb. Where had she been all this time? Surely he hadn’t changed. And the women! Four of them latched on to him immediately.