Call it Love

by Kress, Alyssa

  The two of them had gone and fallen in love.

  ~~~

  Cookie was vibrantly aware of Chess dogging her heels as she made for the dressing room for guests. Her face was flaming but that wasn't all of her that was hot. She was hot all over, from the top of her head down to the tip of her toes. It had started with Chess practically necking her on camera, and it was only getting worse with him chasing her across the studio. If only she could get a little distance between herself and Chess, maybe she could get her fever down.

  She didn't dare look back as she closed the door.

  Her own reflection immediately stared at her from the mirror: bemused, her eyes huge in a flushed face. She wanted Chess gone, and she wanted him closer. Oh, so much closer. And this morning, dear Lord—

  There was a brisk knock on the door, and then Chess opened it up.

  Cookie turned on him in alarm.

  "I hope you don't mind." He calmly closed the door behind himself. They were alone in a space about the size of his master bathroom back home.

  "Um..." The air throbbed with his nearness. Thankfully, he didn't make a move to close what small distance remained between them.

  "You forgot something." Chess's voice deepened.

  Cookie's gaze lowered from his eyes to the little glass bottle in his hand.

  "Unless," he added slowly, "you didn't like it."

  "I liked it." Cookie's own voice was hoarse.

  "It's not polished yet," Chess went on. "Something like this can take months, even years, to get right."

  "Is that so?" The fever wouldn't leave her, not so long as he was this close.

  Chess took a step closer, and Cookie's temperature shot up even higher. "There's a chemistry, you see, between the fragrance and the woman who wears it. With you, I can directly test the results."

  Cookie's heart was pounding. Whatever restraint he'd been using all week was gone. A part of her had become frustrated with that restraint, but now she wondered how she was going to handle its absence. So far in this department, she'd failed miserably. "If you test it on me, then you'll end up with a perfume that only works for me."

  He handed her the glass bottle. "This is only for you."

  The glass felt cool in her hand. It weighed more precious than diamonds. She had a good idea Chess had never done this before, created a scent for only one woman. "Thank you," she breathed.

  "About this morning," Chess said.

  She looked up, alarmed all over again.

  "I didn't mean to walk in on you."

  "I know." She'd had nothing on but half a pantyhose rolled over a knee.

  Chess paused. In a low voice, he said, "You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful creature I've ever seen."

  Cookie felt a mixture of pleasure and fear wash over her. She adored that he thought her beautiful. She was still very frightened of what that beauty might inspire in him. Oh, she wanted the physical closeness. She even thought she might be able to handle it now after Chess had, little by little, gotten her used to his physicality. That is, maybe she could handle it if she had the foggiest idea of what her side of the action should be.

  "Tonight," Chess said.

  Cookie froze. Was he going to proposition her right now?

  "Tonight there's a Fragrance Foundation dinner. I absolutely have to go. I won't be coming from home, though— Will you meet me there?"

  She breathed out. "Oh, yes. Yes, of course." A public place. Nothing to fear. Nothing to hope for, either.

  Or wasn't there?

  Chess took her shoulders and bent forward to press a kiss against her forehead. He moved slowly, carefully, but purposefully. Against her hair he murmured something almost too low for her to hear. But she heard it.

  "Tonight..."

  The blood tingled in her veins. She felt as shivery and off-balance as when Chess had nearly licked her neck on the air. But it wasn't an unpleasant nervousness. Not completely.

  The door suddenly opened from without.

  Chess sprang away from Cookie.

  "I'm sorry," Ruth said automatically.

  She hadn't finished speaking before Chess was gone, slipping easily past her.

  "Whew!" Ruth breathed out, waving her hand. "I do believe I've been scorched."

  Ruth's matter-of-fact, joking tone brought Cookie from the dreamy realm of fantasy back to reality. Her hands felt ice cold when she pressed them against her burning cheeks. "Oh, God. Ruth, what am I supposed to do?"

  Ruth closed the door behind her. The room didn't seem nearly as small with Ruth as it had with Chess. "I don't know," she admitted. "What seem to be the choices?"

  "Oh, God. Oh, God," Cookie moaned. "He thinks we're going to make love!"

  Ruth leaned against the door and raised an auburn eyebrow. "Now I wonder what gave him that idea?"

  Cookie coughed. "You don't think that I—?"

  Ruth now raised both eyebrows high. "I don't think that you've been giving him encouragement? Well, let's see. Would neon letters, pink and ten feet high, spelling out, 'Chester Bradshaw I want you,' be any more noticeable?"

  Cookie took an appalled step backward. The backs of her thighs came up against the edge of the makeup counter. One hand went over her mouth. "Oh, no."

  Ruth's raised brows lowered into a frown. "I don't get the problem. Why don't you just sleep with him and have done with it? You obviously both want to. Goodness, you're even married!"

  "No, no," Cookie moaned. "You don't understand. It isn't that simple. I—I don't know how."

  Ruth paused for a significant beat. "You don't know how?"

  "Exactly." Embarrassed now at having admitted this much, Cookie turned, unwilling to meet Ruth's eyes. "I have no idea how to make love to a man."

  Ruth choked. "Don't tell me. You're into women?"

  Cookie started to laugh. "No, though God knows I've thought about it once or twice. It was clear it wasn't going to work with a man."

  "Wait a minute, wait a minute." Ruth grabbed for a chair. "Take this from the top. You've not— That is, you don't—"

  Able to glance at Ruth now, Cookie couldn't help smiling at her astonishment. "I've only had sex twice in my life. And it barely made the threshold of calling it that on both occasions. Oh, Ruth, it was just awful."

  Ruth was staring at Cookie as though she'd stepped off a time travel machine. "You're practically a virgin. Thirty-five years old, and a virgin."

  Cookie winced. "This would be easier if I were a real virgin and didn't know what was going to happen. But I do know. I'm fairly certain the best I can do is...pretty much nothing. Frigid. And that's the best I could do."

  A panorama of emotions chased across Ruth's face.

  "Maybe I shouldn't be telling you this," Cookie hastened to apologize. "Maybe it's the kind of dirt you're supposed to keep to yourself."

  "No." Ruth cleared her throat. "No, Cookie. I have a feeling you've kept this particular dirt to yourself for far too long. And besides, I thought we were friends."

  Cookie gave her a doubtful look. "You're saying this is what girlfriends talk about: their sex problems?"

  A broad smile worked its way across Ruth's face. "That is precisely what girlfriends discuss. Now, sweetheart. There is one fact that we have to get through your head first, before we go any further."

  Cookie sank into a seat by the counter. She'd never thought about discussing the matter with Ruth. Now it made all the sense in the world. Ruth was a woman; she'd see sex from a woman's point of view. Not only that, but also she knew Chess pretty well.

  "What fact is that?" Cookie asked.

  Ruth closed her eyes. "You are not frigid."

  Cookie felt a foolish leap of hope. "How can you tell?"

  "I—" Ruth rolled her eyes. "I can tell by the way you look at Chess. You've got the hots for him, and bad."

  "Well, yes," Cookie thoughtfully agreed. "He does make me hot."

  Ruth couldn't seem to help the laugh that escaped her.

  "But, you see, that
won't necessarily make me— That is, I won't necessarily be able to please him." Cookie's face turned red. "In fact, I'm pretty sure that I can't."

  Ruth both groaned and laughed at the same time. "How long ago were these two famous sex episodes of yours?"

  Cookie frowned. "The last one was more than ten years ago. Does it matter?"

  "More than ten years." Ruth's mirth sobered. "You really did get turned off, didn't you?"

  "I...had a bad experience in grade school. When I get too close to someone who's bigger and stronger than I am, it gives me flashbacks. I freeze up."

  "Oh, Cooks." Ruth reached out to take Cookie's hand. "Are you thinking it will happen that way with Chess, too?"

  It already had. And yet— "I'm starting to think...maybe not. Sometimes all I can think about is how much I want to touch him and have him touch me. But even if that part worked out, I simply don't know what I'm supposed to do!"

  Ruth shot her a sudden grin. "Oh, honey, that's the least of your worries. The state Chess is in, you could be a lump of clay, and he wouldn't notice the difference."

  A lump of clay was certainly not the most flattering thing to which to be compared, but just then the analogy gave Cookie a drop of hope. "You really think so?"

  "Positive." Ruth's grin sobered. "Just trust him, Cookie. The pleasure part—that's his job, at least the first time."

  "But—"

  Ruth gripped her hand. "Trust him."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Trust him. Cookie had a good idea what that actually meant. Before she walked into the hotel ballroom for the Fragrance Foundation dinner that night, she knew the way she needed to trust Chess.

  She needed to tell him everything. The story from her childhood, the two bad experiences with sex—everything she'd been too embarrassed or ashamed to admit—she had to tell him.

  She felt a nervous flutter as she scanned the high-ceilinged room for Chess. Well-dressed people holding champagne glasses stood in clumps of conversation. A few prowled the edges of a buffet table loaded with appetizers. No Chess.

  Cookie released a deep breath. The respite was only temporary. When she did see him and he did take her home, she could not risk another episode where she thought she could go through with it, actually couldn't, and ended up sticking Chess with the blame. One way or another, she was going to have to deal with her problem.

  Needless to say, she'd gone through some anguish in selecting her attire for the evening. She wanted to appear attractive but not end up a tease. The dress she'd eventually settled on was a black crepe that wrapped around her breasts in a wide ribbon. On her feet she wore a pair of high-heeled pumps.

  A waiter approached bearing a tray of cheese puffs. Cookie shook her head. She didn't want anything in her stomach, just in case. God, she had no idea how the evening would play out. If half of what Ruth had told her was true...

  "Mrs. Bradshaw?"

  Cookie started at the unexpected voice interrupting her thoughts. She turned to meet a pair of sea-green eyes. They were amazingly familiar. But they weren't the eyes she was looking for. The curling hair on top of this man's head was pure silver.

  "I doubt that anybody will introduce us." The man gave her a faintly ironic smile and held out his hand. "So allow me. Bernard Korman."

  The family arch-demon. Cookie was face to face with him, and all she could do was stick her hand forth in an automatic gesture of courtesy. "How do you do, Mr. Korman?"

  His expression sobered. "As a matter of fact, Mrs. Bradshaw, I'm quite worried."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  He looked apologetic. "Forgive me for being blunt, but you're the only one of the family I could hope might hear me out, and I don't know how much time I'll have."

  Logic told Cookie she should be on her guard with this man. He'd stolen Scents Allure's formulas and he'd stolen Scents Allure's advertising. But something stronger than logic had her hooked. "Let's walk over to the side where we can have a little more privacy," she suggested.

  "Thank you." His expression appeared to be one of genuine gratitude. "Kate won't talk to me at all, and Chess wouldn't believe me, no matter what I said." Taking her arm, he led the way to the far wall of the room.

  "What is it you have to say?"

  He released his light hold on her elbow. "First, you have to know that I had nothing to do with the theft of the concept for your advertising campaign for Temptation."

  He sounded amazingly sincere. Cookie frowned. "But you know it was stolen."

  His gaze averted.

  "And you know the original name for the perfume."

  "Yes, but that isn't the point."

  "What about the formulas for the classics? Are you innocent of stealing those, too?"

  Korman's face flushed a dull color. "I didn't steal them. They...came into my possession."

  "They came into your possession. Just like that." Cookie was trying hard to remain skeptical, but Korman was looking at her with such obvious pain in his eyes that it was a difficult task.

  "Please. You must listen to me. You're my only hope. Something strange is going on at both Scents Allure and Korman Cosmetics. The idea for our Temptress scent's advertising, the one that looked like Scents Allure's Temptation, came from someone who was only in my marketing department for an extremely short time before quitting. I've tried to locate this person, but he's disappeared."

  "Convenient."

  "Most inconvenient, if not disturbing."

  Cookie's frown deepened. Korman's story was the most unlikely she had ever heard, yet she couldn't shake the impression he was telling the truth. "Why do you care?" she dared to ask. "Whoever this is, they seem to be on your side."

  Korman gave her a narrow look. "I do not like being used." As he regarded her, an emotion far beyond pique showed in his ocean-colored eyes.

  The world seemed take a slow whirl as Cookie felt those eyes try to tell her something without words.

  "Rebecca."

  The harsh voice brought Cookie abruptly out of her dizzying journey.

  Chess stood behind Korman's right shoulder, looking quietly murderous. "Korman," he said.

  Bernard Korman turned to greet the younger man. Everything Cookie had seen in the older man's eyes dropped from sight. "Why, Chess, how are you? I was just acquainting myself with your lovely wife."

  "So I see." Chess's gaze was hard as slate. In full evening dress, he looked like a dark avenging angel.

  "You're a lucky man," Korman went on, in the same hearty tone. He clapped Chess on the shoulder.

  Chess didn't look lucky. He looked furious.

  "Take good care of this one," Korman advised. "She's a gem." With one final, slanting glance at Cookie, he walked off.

  She was left staring at her husband, who still appeared incensed. Not the way she'd wanted to start an evening in which she already feared disappointing him.

  "Let's go," Chess said.

  "What?" Cookie blinked in confusion. "I thought you had to come to this dinner."

  "I came. Now, let's go." He reached to take her arm and then seemed to think better of it. Retracting his hand, he simply gestured with his head. "Follow me."

  Cookie followed him even though the man did not consider the speed at which a girl could travel in high heels. She had to skip to keep up as he led the way down the long carpeted hall of the hotel. As she hurried, she began to get angry herself. She'd been talking to Bernard Korman. So, what? This was a reason to act pigheaded?

  When they reached Chess's car in the underground parking garage, Cookie came to a halt and put her hands on her hips. "Okay. Tell me. What will it take to get this out of your system?"

  From the other side of the Porsche, Chess's eyes blazed. "You must be kidding. Get in the car, Cookie."

  She was about to respond that she'd get into the car when hell froze over, but then she realized that he'd switched. It wasn't 'Rebecca' anymore but 'Cookie.'

  Tilting her head, she decided to make sure. "Are you mad at me for talki
ng to Bernard Korman?"

  "What?" The bafflement on his face was unfeigned. "Anger is not what I'm experiencing right now. For God's sake, Cookie, get in the car."

  Oh. Oh-h-h. As she met the insistence in Chess's eyes, Cookie's take on the situation underwent a complete reversal. A jolt in her stomach rippled down to her knees, making them feel weak. In fact, all of her went sort of soft.

  She got into the car.

  I have to tell him. I have to stop this before it gets too far.

  But she still felt so soft and...receptive.

  Meanwhile, Chess tried to put the key in the ignition, but his hands were shaking so badly, he missed the spot.

  Cookie watched in amazement. Wow. He was nervous. He was!

  He took a deep breath and then, with a soft little laugh, finally got the key where he wanted it. The motor roared to life. Chess turned to her with a boyish grin.

  Cookie's heart turned over in her chest. How could she possibly disappoint him now?

  On the other hand, how could she guarantee she wouldn't freeze up again?

  The trip between Nob Hill and Pacific Heights was a white-knuckler. Chess fit his car into lanes that did not actually exist. He zipped down alleys to avoid slower traffic. Somehow, in the midst of this vehicular gymnastics, he took hold of her left hand.

  Cookie swallowed as he brushed his lips over her knuckles. Even though she was sitting down now, her knees felt weak again.

  His lips curved in a knowing smile as he fit the tips of her fingers into his mouth.

  A shudder ran all the way through her. She felt a wet, warm pressure on her fingers—and an incredible softness unfold inside herself.

  Cookie heard someone moan. With surprise, she realized it was herself.

  Chess continued to play with her hand, sucking, stroking, kissing.

  Cookie bit her lip, trying to contain her moans. She'd had no idea her hand contained so much sensual awareness. She'd had no idea her whole body could respond with such yearning. Perhaps it was because this involved no full-body physical contact.

  Or perhaps she was so far gone in wanting Chess that she was ready for everything. All she knew was that she didn't want him to stop.