An Irresistible Temptation

by Sydney Jane Baily

“Sophie, I’m trying to do the right thing here. Last night, I nearly didn’t.” His voice sounded odd to his ears. But since he was trying, she could try, too, even though it felt harder to leave her than to recite in alphabetical order all the bones in the human body.

  She sighed and he watched her breasts lift gently, feeling heat shoot straight to his groin.

  “Tomorrow, then.” She slid her key into the lock and went inside. He kicked the wall viciously to relieve his tension, and her head popped back out.

  “Are you all right?” She had a bemused look on her face that indicated she knew exactly how he was feeling—frustrated as hell.

  “I’m fine. I . . . stumbled.” And he hightailed it down the stairs before he changed his mind. She really didn’t seem to know that he planned to take over for Doc. It had been mentioned, he remembered, at the dinner with Dan, but perhaps Sophie had been as distracted as he was that night.

  In any case, she was starting to make plans, for Thanksgiving and beyond . . .

  He could not see beyond tomorrow, at least not a future with Sophie by his side.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  For Sophie, it was an endless night. She had been ready and waiting and looking out the window for at least twenty minutes when she espied him coming up her front steps. She flew downstairs to meet him.

  “Ready,” she said, eager to take his arm in the bright daylight, where temptation wouldn’t overcome them. It had been as difficult as playing Beethoven’s Hammerklavier to stop herself from throwing her arms around him the night before. They started to walk.

  “This reminds me of walking with you along the boards in front of Dan’s store, all the way to Fuller’s.”

  “All the way, huh?” he said with a lopsided grin.

  She laughed, thinking how small Spring City was. How did someone spend their whole life there, knowing every person in the town and perhaps not liking half of them? Or seeing the same faces day-in and day-out? In Boston, she could go weeks without seeing someone she knew or cared to see, for that matter. And here in San Francisco, why nearly everyone was new to her and she loved it.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier,” she said.

  “Really?”

  “Mm, everything is just beginning. My career, our relationship, your career, too.”

  He stiffened, and she felt him falter in his stride.

  “What is it?”

  He seemed to hesitate. “You reminded me about the exams, coming up soon. That’s all.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Doc’s been preparing you all your life, hasn’t he?”

  “Yes, Doc’s always been there for me.”

  Riley was quiet for a bit while she chattered until Long Bridge stretched out before them across Mission Bay. It was still early enough, not to mention chilly, that the only people on the great span over the bay were fisherman, boys and men, who had arrived hours before to obtain a choice spot at the railing. Shoulder-to-shoulder they stood, most with the bamboo poles rented from the bait shops on the bridge, and all of them were fishing for smelt.

  Sophie and Riley strolled along beside the rail tracks on the bridge until a horsecar traveled down the center, rattling the timbers. He pulled her close against his side until it passed, and she relished his warmth that seeped into her. All too soon, for the sake of decorum, Riley released her and she was assailed once more by the cold. A young boy eagerly showed them his catch of small silvery fish lying on a newspaper and then they paused farther on the bridge to look out over the oyster beds.

  “I love you,” Riley said, without taking his eyes from the view and so quietly she almost missed it.

  Her cowboy doctor loved her!

  “I love you, too,” she told him, looking at his strong profile and wondering fleetingly why he didn’t seem as joyful as she felt. When he finally turned his face to hers, he claimed her lips instantly, his hand reaching out to hold her to him. With his mouth on hers, she ignored the November wind blowing, until her shivering was no longer concealable. He rested his forehead on hers as they reclaimed their breath and then he took her gloved hand in his, starting back to the main land.

  She thought he would take her straight home and make love to her, but he stopped at a small café perched on the pilings next to the bridge. He pulled her inside.

  “Coffee or tea?” he asked, settling her in a seat and walking to the counter.

  Was the infernal man stalling or was he missing her obvious signals? Why, now, did he have to start courting her slowly?

  “Coffee,” Sophie said, “with cream. That would be lovely.” Though she’d rather warm up by kissing him somewhere private.

  Riley came back with two coffees and some raisin cake for them to share.

  They sat in companionable silence until nothing was left, and Sophie moistened the end of her finger and picked up the last of the cake crumbs off the plate.

  “It’s the cold,” Riley said. “It makes your body want to store up energy by eating more.” He was speaking clinically, but she noticed he was staring at her finger that she’d licked. Her insides did a funny flip. She pushed her chair out. No more stalling. She wanted to be in his arms at last.

  “We’d better start walking back. I need time to change before rehearsal.”

  He stood up and helped her on with her coat. “You look lovely to me. You always do.”

  “You’re sweet,” she said, “but this is not the gown in which I want to appear in front of hundreds of people.”

  “Then we should get you out of it.”

  Her eyes widened, as he grinned. “I mean, we’ll get you home so you can change. What are you playing tonight?”

  “Don’t you know?” Her head was so full of Amadeus that she could barely hear anything else. She imagined he could hear it, too.

  “I have to admit that I haven’t looked at the program. After I saw your name in the paper, it didn’t matter to me what you were playing.”

  She smiled radiantly. “Tonight is Mozart.”

  “You know, Sophie, most of us mere mortals do not know our Boccherini from our Bach, or our Mozart from our . . .”

  “Mendelsohn,” she supplied helpfully.

  “Something like that.”

  “That doesn’t matter, does it?” Personally, she couldn’t bear the thought of not knowing the history of the composers; their stories brought the works to life for her.

  “No,” he took her hand in his and squeezed lightly. “When you start playing, you could be playing ‘Mollie Darling’ and we’d still be on our feet.”

  “I can’t believe you’re comparing Kinkel to Mozart.”

  “I’m not. I’m saying you can spin straw into gold, as the saying goes.”

  Instead of walking, Riley pulled her up onto the first cable car, and they were back at Sophie’s apartment in minutes.

  They went in silently, and he followed her up the stairs to her door. She put the key in the lock and turned it. Then she faced him, waiting for him to decide whether he was going to kiss her good bye or keep his hands and lips to himself again and walk away.

  At first, he did neither. He seemed to be studying her, a small frown in the middle of his forehead. Then, slowly, he reached up and took her face in his hands.

  “Sophie?”

  “Yes?”

  “I—” But whatever he was going to say, he didn’t. He took a step closer and she tingled in anticipation. He pulled her toward him and she fitted against his long muscular frame. She exhaled slowly, feeling as at home in his arms as she did at her piano keys.

  Kiss me, she begged him with her eyes. His eyebrows went up slightly as he read the message. She watched him swallow, looking serious, with no slow and sensual smile this time. As his head bent to hers, her arms slipped up his chest and her hands circled his shoulders to clasp together behind his neck.

  When his lips touched hers, she sighed again. He groaned, causing something inside her to burst into flames. Immediately, she knew this was no gentl
e welcome home kiss and no brief lovers’ peck. This was a serious, feel-it-in-her-toes kiss.

  He pulled on her lower lip and then nibbled beside her mouth and down her tender throat while she clutched him. He reclaimed her lips and forced them open to accept his tongue, and she felt his hips press against her stomach. Her knees softened even as she tried to raise up on tiptoe to better feel his hardness against her womanly places. Mostly, she wanted to lie down and feel him settle on top of her.

  She reached behind her and turned the knob. With the pressure of them both against it, the door flew inward and they nearly tumbled to the floor. Riley kept a hand on her waist as he grabbed at the door frame to keep them upright.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, “I should have warned you.”

  He half chuckled. “I was a bit lost in the moment anyway.”

  He walked her back a step and released her. They were both breathing heavily and she could see his pupils had grown larger, filling his gleaming eyes with black desire. She felt the same. But he was hesitating as he had done at The Grand all those weeks earlier, looking torn, even reluctant. No Eliza stood between them, nor Philip on the horizon—nothing that could possibly stand in their way.

  “Riley, I . . . I want you.”

  She watched his jaw clench, then he closed the door behind him, pulling her into his arms once again.

  “You feel like heaven, Sophie.”

  He reached around and squeezed her buttocks, pulling her up against him, so she could feel the whole length of his shaft. Then he reached down and swept her off her feet entirely.

  “I feel like an unwieldy cello,” she grumbled, when he paused as if he didn’t know where to take her.

  “You’re supposed to feel feminine. You’re light as a butterfly.” He walked through her small parlor into the kitchen and backed out, going to the next room and finding her bed.

  “Bigger than at The Grand,” he commented.

  “I didn’t complain at The Grand.”

  “Nor I.” He lowered her gently to her bed and lay down beside her, resting on his elbow, looking down at her. “I thought that was going to be our one and only time ever.” He touched her cheek. “And I wanted you so badly, like I do now. I hated to rush. I wanted it to last forever, but I also didn’t want to do it at all.”

  She winced. “Because of Eliza.”

  “No. She didn’t enter my head. I swear it.”

  He brushed his thumb over her lip and she trembled. She was hot and prickly in all the right places, feeling as if she was wearing about a hundred layers too many of clothing.

  “I didn’t want to be the kind of man who could take your innocence from you with nothing to offer in return. But, as it turned out, I was that man.”

  His voice sounded so sad when all she felt was joy. She stroked his silken brown hair and breathed in his familiar fresh vanilla scent. She had to admit that she much preferred it to Philip’s sweet citrus fragrance.

  She reached up and touched his face, reveling in the roughness of his cheek against her palm. “I thought that one memory was going to have to carry me through a lifetime.”

  Riley captured her hand, turned his head, and kissed her palm. “Instead, here we are.” He settled closer and rested one leg over hers.

  He lowered his head and kissed her. The pleasing weight of his thigh across hers made her arch against him. His arm brushed across her breasts, and she moaned with pleasure as he shifted his position until he was on top of her.

  “We can go slowly this time,” he said, breathless, as he nibbled her ear lobe.

  “Mm,” she murmured, not thinking they could go slowly at all. “Riley,” she breathed against him. “We still have our shoes on.”

  She felt him kicking his off with some effort, but her own were ankle-highs and she needed to sit up and unlace them. She pushed against him and he slid down the length of her body, kissing her through the layers of fabric, first her breasts and then her stomach, until he got off the bed and knelt down to start unlacing her boots.

  She slipped off her coat and then her jacket before undoing the buttons at her blouse’s cuffs. She glanced at the clock that ticked relentlessly on her bureau, hating the movement of the second hand. They still had time before rehearsal but not a tremendous amount; their lovemaking would have to be a lively and spirited capriccio after all, and not the unhurried adagio she was hoping for.

  But after tonight’s performance, they would have all the time in the world.

  She undid the front buttons of her blouse and glanced up to see him standing motionless, still wearing his trousers, staring at her.

  “Riley?” she asked uncertainly.

  “You’re so beautiful. Even your hands. You have such lovely, capable hands.”

  She blushed, but countered, “That’s ridiculous. Your hands do far more important work than mine.”

  Sophie watched the frown appear on his face again and longed to smooth it away. She slipped her blouse from her shoulders, and immediately, he was beside her again. She let him remove her corset and then her shift before he pushed her gently back down on the bed. Her nipples pebbled instantly under his gaze and she started to cross her arms, but he held them away from her, leaning down to reverently kiss the underswell of each breast. Then he blew on one rosy nipple and it tightened even further.

  “I think I know what it’s like to play a fine instrument,” he said.

  “Riley, stop teasing me.” She closed her eyes as he plucked her nipple with his teeth.

  “I’m not. I’m just learning what you like.” One of his hands roamed down her naked torso to stroke her hip, then teasingly drifted over her mound and stayed there. She arched against him.

  “You know exactly . . .,” she panted, grabbing at his shoulders, “exactly what you’re doing. You’re nearly a doctor.”

  She felt him halt. Every movement stopped, including his breathing. Then he moved his lips to her other nipple and kissed her. But she writhed under him. He was still partially clothed and she needed him to settle between her legs, wanting to do again what they’d done in her hotel room.

  “Riley, are you going to finish undressing?”

  He didn’t answer at first. He raised his head, his glittering eyes looking deeply into her own. Then he kissed her lips again before he lifted himself off her inflamed skin.

  “I don’t have any contraception,” he said, not meeting her gaze, and to her amazement, he grabbed the blanket that was folded at the bottom of her bed and tossed it over her naked, flushed body.

  Closing her eyes, she nearly cried in frustration. When she opened them, he was sitting up, watching her pensively. She wanted to feel Riley, all of him, inside her, to experience the glissando of one passionate movement sliding almost unnoticeably into the next, until they reached the final harmony when their bodies climaxed. Why, she could practically play it for him on a piano. Contraception be damned! She gave him, the man she loved, her most welcoming smile.

  “I’d best be leaving.” He jumped up.

  What? Her pulse was racing and she was trembling with expectation, but he was already gathering his clothes.

  “Riley,” she tried to call him back, hating the desperate sound of her voice.

  “I have to let you go,” he said, draping his tie haphazardly around his bare neck before slipping on his shirt. “I mean, let you get ready.”

  She rose up on her knees in the middle of the bed, holding the blanket against her bare breasts. At first, he didn’t look at her, but when he did, his eyes were sad again, though his tone, when he spoke, sounded angry—at what, or whom, she didn’t know.

  “I’m sorry, Sophie,” he ground out. Her eyes widened in confusion. “But I know you need time to prepare for tonight.”

  She wanted him to stay, nearly begged him to, so filled with longing as she was, except she knew it would be useless. He looked like a man who’d made up his mind to leave. She would let him go—for clearly, something was troubling him and being with her was
only making it worse.

  He finished dressing in silence, slipping his feet into his shoes and shrugging his shoulders into his coat. Grabbing her dressing gown from the chair beside the bed, she wrapped it around her as he headed for the door, moving as though his heels were on fire.

  She followed him out of her bedroom, feeling wholly disappointed and already missing him. At the front door, he turned and took her in his arms.

  “Will you do one thing for me?”

  His manner filled her with trepidation, but she answered unhesitatingly, “Yes. Anything.”

  “Tonight, when you play, will you play only for me? The way you did in Spring City?”

  She stroked his cheek, searching his earnest brown eyes for answers. “Yes, of course.” She crossed her hands behind his neck again. “I’ll see you tonight?”

  He didn’t answer at once. “I’ll be in the front row,” he said at last, before he kissed her again, taking care to ravage her mouth like a desperate man going to war. Then, while her knees were trembling from his kiss, he slipped out of her arms and out of her apartment.

  Sophie couldn’t shake the feeling that, in a short span, something had shifted and was now dreadfully wrong. In a piece of music, she considered it deceptive cadence—one minute everything was going perfectly and she had been assured of the ending. And the next, nothing seemed right.

  True to his word, however, Riley was in the same seat owned by Mr. Shepherd in the front row when the house lights came on for the musician’s introductions that night. And right before the lights went down after intermission, he waved to her. However, when the performance was over, he was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Riley,” she called out, knocking on his front door. At first, she chalked up his disappearance from the concert hall to his being called away for another ill patron or staff member during the performance. However, when he didn’t contact her by Monday morning, she located his rooming house by the hospital.

  Her knock was answered with silence.

  Next, Sophie went to the City-County Hospital and asked at reception if he was in the building. He was, but he was doing rounds. She was told she could wait, and she did—over an hour—all the while getting more agitated and annoyed until, when she eventually saw him, she was ready to spit nails. Rather than the concern she initially felt and meant to convey, she knew she seemed like an angry wet hen: