by Vicki Keener
“I guess I do mean that.”
“Would you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“You didn't stop to think.”
“The answer is I trust you. I didn't need to think about it.”
“I'm going on the pill.”
Cray followed her to her apartment and inside when the taxi driver dropped them off at her place. She walked to her bedroom and he followed her there. She pulled an overnight bag from the bottom of her walk-in closet, flopped it on the bed and unzipped it. He leaned on a chest of drawers and said. “Angel, are you comfortable with this?”
She looked up at him wide-eyed. “Yes. Are you having second thoughts?”
“No. When do you go back to school?”
“The Monday after New Year's Day. I believe it's the fourth.”
“Pack enough to stay with me that long.”
“Suppose it doesn't work out for us.”
“You're not giving up your lease. If it doesn't work, you come back here.”
“Christmas is a week away. You'll be spending it with your family. I won't stay at your place alone.”
“Do you have plans for Christmas?”
“There's a large contingent of people from Norway who live in the city and don't have close relatives here. There's a standing invitation to spend a holiday with them. That's where I'll go.”
“I want you to meet my family and spend the holiday with them. We celebrate Christmas Eve with a big dinner and unwrapping gifts. That leaves Christmas Day when we lounge in the house, eat leftovers and play board games. It's casual and fun. Do you like board games?”
She smiled and said, “I do. In Norway we have our big celebration on Christmas Eve with a big meal and opening gifts.”
“You'll feel at home and we'll be together.”
“Will your parents mind an intruder?”
“Not at all. They'll welcome you. They will interrogate you since they're lawyers, but you can handle that. I mentioned to Mona this morning on the phone that I wanted to invite you. Our house has six bedrooms, but with my parents and the siblings it fills up fast. Mona's room has twin beds and I asked her if you could bunk with her. She said fine. I'm hoping tonight changes those sleeping arrangements and you'll be in my bed with me.”
“Will your parents object?”
“I'm thirty-six. If they object, they better keep it to themselves.”
“Cray, I don't want to be the cause of trouble.”
“Honey, I'll clear it with them. If they do object, you can bunk with Mona. It's for one night. Will you spend your time off with me?”
“I need a bigger suitcase. It's on the top shelf in the storage closet at the end of the hall.”
He retrieved her large suitcase and stretched out on the lounge in her bedroom with his hands clasped behind his head. She questioned him on what to take. She packed dressy clothes, business casual and casual. She pulled a mint green filmy peignoir set from her closet and held it up in front of her. “Do you like this? It's for your eyes only, of course.”
“Don't start, honey. I'm hanging on by a thread here as it is.”
“I haven't touched you.”
He shook his head and said, “It doesn't seem to matter when I'm with you.”
“Won't that get uncomfortable?” she asked and laughed.
“I'm hoping, no praying, that this relentless need will subside with your help.”
She giggled and finished packing, surveying the stuffed suitcase. “I guess that's everything. I can run back here if I forgot something.”
“Aren't you forgetting your halo and horns?” he asked, chuckling.
“Oh, my gosh. You're right.” She opened the top drawer of her nightstand, placed a halo on her head and sauntered to him. “You thought I kidded you.” She knelt by his side, leaned over him and placed her mouth on his in a gentle but thorough exploration of his lips.
He held her and said, “Dear God.”
She pulled away from him, took the halo off and donned the headband with devil horns. He laughed until she straddled him and ground her body in his, her tongue relentless as she explored his mouth and ran her hands over his chest while her hips worked in a primitive rhythm against his groin. His head flopped back against the cushion, his mouth opened for air, his chest heaved and moans emanated from deep in his throat.
“Is this the way you want the first time?” she asked in a sultry husky voice.
“Yes. No. Not the first time. I won't last a minute. Angel, have mercy.”
She rose from him and stood next to him. “We're going to be so hot together. Cray, I'm going to change clothes before we go. Would you rather go in the other room?”
His forearm covered his eyes and he said, “Just let me stay here. I can't move yet. You're in the company of a dangerous man.”
She giggled and brushed her fingers through his hair. “I'll just be a minute. It's early. Are we stopping for dinner?”
“No, I have stuff to eat at my place. We'll eat afterward.”
“Suppose I get hungry before or during,” she said, changing her clothes in the closet.
“Fuck, Angel, cut me a break here.”
She pulled on a pair of skinny jeans, sneakers and a turtle neck sweater in pale yellow. “Cray, there's a lot of stuff here and I remembered I have some perishable food in the refrigerator. Can I take that along? I hate throwing good food away.”
He opened his eyes and sat straight. “I'll call for the limo. Take whatever you want and please don't leave me behind.”
She threw her head back and laughed while he dialed the limo service.
Cray said, “Honey, I want to take my time with you, give you pleasure, but I must warn you. I'm wound so tight and I'm afraid I'll go off like a hand grenade with the pin pulled. One touch from you and I'm dog meat.”
“Sweetheart, we have over two weeks. We'll get it right. I'm not a porcelain doll that's breakable. You won't hurt me. I want you to make love to me and I want you to fuck me in any order you want.”
Chapter 5
They loaded the limo with the help of the driver and sat in the back while the driver maneuvered across town to Cray's condo. Angelica paged through her phone, paused and said, “Shit, damn, hell and fuck.”
Cray laughed and said, “What's wrong?”
“You won't think this is funny. There's a reception at the Royal Norwegian Consulate tonight and I must put in an appearance.”
He groaned. “Can't you call them and tell them you're sick?”
She frowned and glared at him. “No, Cray, I can't. They're friends of mine. You can go with me if you choose, but regardless, I'm going.”
“I didn't realize the Norwegian government had a consulate in New York City. Is it an embassy?”
“No, the embassy is in Washington, DC. The consulate here covers twenty-two states on the east coast.”
“What do they do?”
“Arrange for visas and promote Norway's cultural exchange with the United States. There's an upswing in interest lately for Norwegian architecture and design. This consulate general has been here since 1906 and is the oldest in the United States. They work hard to promote peace and reconciliation, gender equality and energy and climate change. I'm a strong advocate for what they do.”
“Okay, where is it located and what time must we be there? I'll keep the limo.”
“It starts at seven and if we get there then we can leave by eight. It's located on the thirty-eighth floor at 825 Third Avenue.”
“How many other mandatory obligations are you committed to in the next two weeks?”
“I usually fly down to D.C. to the embassy for their holiday party. I guess I could miss it.”
“But you don't want to miss it.”
; “No, but I will for you.”
“None of that. We're not starting our relationship on that note where you're making concessions to please me.”
“You're making a concession to go with me tonight when there are other things you'd rather be doing.”
“Well, since those other things include you and you're going to the consulate what's my choice?”
“Cray, these things were arranged before I met you. In the future, we can coordinate before accepting invitations.”
“When's the bash in Washington?”
“Tuesday night. I usually fly down in the morning, get a hotel room and spend the day sightseeing and then dress for dinner.”
“We'll do that together.”
“Are you sure?”
“Things are slow at the office and Mona can handle it. What do I need to wear tonight?”
“Not a tux, but a dressy suit, dark blue preferably.”
“I have one back from the cleaners, so I'm good.”
“Here's one good thing. There will be lots of native Norwegian food tonight. They have some of it flown in if they can't get it here.”
“I'm not eating whale blubber.”
“All right. They disguise it, but I'll point it out to you.”
“I was kidding. Do they really eat whale blubber in Norway?”
“I'm kidding, too. Cray, call Mona and tell her you'll be late for work tomorrow morning.”
“Why will I be late for work?”
“Because from the minute we get home I'm going to keep you up the rest of the night making love to you.”
“Please don't promise what you can't deliver.”
“I'll deliver, darling. I may take cat naps while you recuperate, but when you're ready I will be, too.”
“Angel, will you cool the sexy talk until we're in bed together? After that, you can say anything you want.”
“Will you like it if I talk dirty to you?”
“Let's talk about the weather. It's warm today, but snow is called for in the middle of the week.”
“That's a boring subject, Cray. I never listen to weather reports. When I get up in the morning, I look outside and decide how to dress for the day. I can't change it so why listen to what's coming.”
“The temperature is important to dress right. How do you judge that?”
“The first thing I do when I get up after I use the bathroom is fire up my laptop. My opening screen gives me the current temperature and the predicted high for the day.”
“Ah ha, so you do check the weather.”
She laughed. “Cray, you act like you caught me in a lie of gargantuan proportions, like I'm stealing State secrets or something just as nefarious.”
“Don't be ridiculous. I didn't overreact, but everyone checks the weather.”
“What do you call AH HA?”
“All right, Angelica, you win.”
“You don't want to fight with me because I won't let you in tonight.”
He pulled her in her arms and said, “That would break my heart.” He kissed her and she melted against him.
“Cray, if it makes you feel any better, I wish we didn't need to go tonight.”
Cray lugged her heavy suitcase and her laptop on the private elevator that took them to his penthouse. “Let's drop your luggage in the bedroom and I'll give you a tour. I want you to make yourself at home and feel at home. If the décor is too masculine for your taste, you're welcome to change it.”
“Why would you let me change things when I'm only staying two weeks and not that long if we aren't compatible?”
“We're compatible,” Cray said.
“Well, yes, in the things we've discovered about each other, but we haven't had sex yet. What you did to me doesn't count.”
“Call it a sixth sense, Angel. We're compatible.”
“Are you excited about us together tonight?” she asked.
“If you define excited as being in a semi-permanent aroused state, then yes I'm excited and I'm finding it annoying because it's uncomfortable.”
“So your body is excited, but your brain wants it to end.”
He laughed and put his arm around her waist and said, “Come on, I'll give you the fifty cent tour and then I need to shower and change my clothes for this mandatory reception that the Norwegian I want to bed gave up her citizenship for to become an American, but, hey, it makes sense to me.”
She laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist and said, “When you put it that way it doesn't compute does it?”
He led her to the living area. “You got a glimpse of the great room when we crossed it to the master suite. If I'm entertaining I use it, otherwise there's a den through here and that's where I spend my time when I'm here which isn't often. I tend to work late, grab something to eat on my way home and crash for the night. I'm out of town often, too, since we acquire companies anywhere in the country.”
“I see.”
He glanced at her, noted her frown and said, “Angel while you're here with me I won't keep that kind of schedule. It's not necessary to work the way I do. I do it for lack of anything better to do.”
“Are you lonely?”
“I don't consider myself lonely, but maybe I am and that's why I'm so driven.”
She walked to the bank of tall windows that overlooked a stunning part of Manhattan. “Cray, are you extremely wealthy?”
“Yes, I suppose some would consider me that. I don't do it for the money, though.”
“Do you do if for the power?”
“No. Why are you asking?”
She crossed her arms and gazed out the window. “Cray, men tell me I'm beautiful and they like my body. Wealthy men, men with untold riches invite me out, take me to elite places, introduce me to their high society friends, try to buy me expensive gifts, invite me to travel the world with them.
“In my mid twenties, I accepted their invitations, never the lavish gifts and I didn't accompany them to the exotic places of the world they offered. At first I was flattered, me a simple girl from Norway raised in a middle-class family being showered with attention from men who could give me the world if I'd do their bidding. They liked my social graces and manners, but they wanted me on their arm and silent. I learned that wealthy men have an arrogance that's grating to a woman with a mind of her own. A beautiful woman's function on the arm of a wealthy man is to make him look good. They don't respect women. It's a generality, but it's my personal experience.”
“Do I strike you like that type, Angelica?”
“No, but I'm not comfortable learning how wealthy you are. I see how you dress and now I see how you live. I recognize the value of your furnishings and art work. I suspect you own this penthouse and I'm aware of what these cost. I'm betting you could retire today and spend the rest of your life living in luxury. Am I right?”
He nodded. “Angelica, I come from generations of wealth, but I broke away and created my wealth by myself. Other than the money, I'm a regular guy who likes ordinary things. I enjoy fine food and good clothes, but I don't jet-set around the world or rub elbows with high society. I'm acquainted with them, they accept me, but they bore me to death. I consider their lives empty.
“I attend the charitable events they host, I applaud their good works and I contribute, but I don't spend the summers partying with them in the Hamptons, flying to Monte Carlo on a whim, skiing in Aspen over Christmas. I told you that when we're at my parents, Christmas day will be a day of lounging, playing board games, eating leftovers. Except for my parent's home, you'd never guess their worth by the lives they lead. Please don't lump me in with those men who wanted arm candy and didn't respect you.”
She walked to his arms and hugged him. “I had to say it. Your luxury surprised me. I didn't expect it because you don
't fit the mold. Cray, I'll take you at face value, trust my judgment and pray another side of you doesn't appear.”
Cray checked his wristwatch and said, “We need to get showered and dressed to be there by seven.”
“You go. Do you mind if I roam, peek in closets?”
“Help yourself. There's a wine cooler in the kitchen. Will you choose something for us and pour us a glass? You'll find the glasses to the right of the sink.”
“White or red?”
“You choose. Do you need me to remove the cork?” She shook her head. “The cork remover is in the drawer above the cooler.”
Ten minutes later, carrying two glasses of wine she used her hip to open the bathroom door. Cray stood in front of the double vanity with a towel around his waist and shaving cream on his face. He grinned at her intrusion and said, “Will you set the glass on the counter, please? I'll be out of here in a few minutes and it's all yours.”
She set the glass near him and perched on the edge of the tub. “I love watching a man shave. I used to watch my dad shave. Of course, he had on more clothes than you do. Do you mind me being here?”
“No, it's nice.”
“I love the den and I can see why you gravitate there. While I'm here can we light the fireplace? My apartment doesn't have one and that's something I miss. I had one in one of the apartments where I lived in southern California, but it's for effect and I figured kind of pointless. The weather doesn't warrant lighting a fire and why sweat to create an ambiance.”
He realized he loved having her sit in the bathroom and chatter to him while he shaved. He took a daub of shaving cream, turned and touched her nose.
She laughed and said, “Want to have a shaving cream battle?”
“Not enough time, honey, and I prefer whipped cream. It tastes better.”
“Ooh, that's naughty. Cray, isn't this intimate? I like it, do you?”
“Yes.”
“It's like we're married.”
“Not quite, Angel, but tomorrow morning when you watch me shave the intimacy will have begun.”
She gave him a devilish smile and stood, beginning to remove her sweater and jeans. “You're hogging the bathroom and I do need to shower.”