by Ana E Ross
But it was not the right circumstance. That suggestion was born out of Cassie’s moral beliefs about sex before marriage—the convictions he said had rubbed off on him. Michelle had looked at him sprawled out on the lounge chair, looking all potent and irresistible. “Why, just so you could have sex with me without feeling as if you’re doing something wrong?”
“That’s not the only reason.”
“Do you love me?” she’d asked, simply and quietly.
“I have very strong feelings for you, and I’m certain that once I have the answers to Cassie’s death squared away, I will allow myself to fall deeply and hopelessly in love with you, Michelle. You want to have my babies, and I would love nothing more than to put them inside you when the time is right. For now, I want to commit to you, show you I’m serious. We just have to keep it secret for the time being, especially for Precious. And,” he’d added, a bit sheepishly, twirling his glass between his long fingers, “you’re going to meet a lot of handsome doctors at the gala. I want you to remember who’s taking you home at the end of the evening.”
His insecurity had deepened her love for him. She’d smiled, feeling a bit of feminine power surge though her. “You’re afraid another man would snatch me up.”
“Yes,” he’d admitted, giving her a heart-rending smile.
“You’re the only man I’ve ever said I love you to, Erik, and if a secret marriage is the only way I can express just how deep that love runs, then I’ll be your wife.”
And so this afternoon, on their way to Boston, they’d stopped to exchange vows in the office of Anthony Paul, Erik’s trusted friend and a Justice of the Peace. No rings were exchanged, just promises to love each other and be faithful to each other through sickness and in health, for better and for worse. In fact, Erik still wore the ring Cassie placed on his finger over twelve years ago, reminding Michelle that it wasn’t a real marriage, just a license so he could make exculpatory love with her.
But as she’d pledged her life to Dr. Erik LaCrosse, Jr., Michelle realized that a secret marriage was the best thing for her, as well. News of her marriage into such an affluent family would spread like wildfire in her neighborhood, and beyond. She was certain that it would eventually reach her father and ultimately flush him out from whatever dark hole he’d crawled into over two years ago. She couldn’t risk that happening—not until she had time to probe into his past—shake up her family tree, and see what fell out. That was the next item on her list of things to do.
So until then, she couldn’t even share her happy news with her brother and her best friend. Robert and Yasmine would think she was out of her mind for sure. As far as Michelle knew, neither one of them had ever been serious about any of the people they dated, so she wouldn’t expect them to understand how this kind of irrepressible love can cause one to do many stupid things.
People got married for all kinds of reasons, she’d told herself. At least she loved the man, and foolish or not, the ink was dried. She was Mrs. Secret Dr. Erik LaCrosse. And tonight after the gala, they would consummate their vows, just like a real honeymoon couple. She couldn’t wait.
Michelle turned at the knock on the door that led to the living room that separated her and Erik’s bedrooms. Even though they were husband and wife, Erik had booked a suite to keep up appearances, but he didn’t need to knock, she thought as she crossed the room and opened the door. She was his wife.
Michelle’s heart fluttered at the sight of her husband in his black Brioni tuxedo with the snowy-white ruffled shirt and black silk bow tie. Her eyes appraised the hard shape of the athletic body she’d be cuddled up next to later tonight, and the olive, suave texture of his skin that her lips would be caressing. Seeing him triggered a supreme longing deep within her.
This was the world he was born into—sophistication and elegance, and he was sharing that part of his life with her tonight—a girl from the inner city, his secret wife.
“Erik,” she said in a breathless whisper. “You look very handsome.” She noted the sparkle of passion and admiration in his eyes, and smiled, happy that all her hard work had paid off. She felt equal to this man, her husband of three hours.
Erik trembled at the husky sound of his name. His breath caught in his throat as he gazed at his wife standing before him in a strapless elegant gold evening gown that hugged her slender body seductively. His temperature soared at the tempting hint of her swelling brown breasts left visible from the heart-shaped neckline, and the side slit that afforded tantalizing glimpses of her long sexy leg and delicate feet in a pair of gold stilettos. He couldn’t wait to have those brown legs wrapped about him as he thrust hard and deep into her sweet tight body.
His heart raced as his gaze traveled slowly back up her body to her enchanting face. “You’re stunning, Michelle.” His voice was husky with tenderness.
“I’m glad you think so.”
Erik took the delicate hands of his wife and gazed deep into her black hypnotic eyes. Tonight, she wore makeup, just enough to embellish the delicate features of her lovely face, especially her eyes. And he noticed that she was wearing a pair of gold and silver earrings he knew belonged to his mother. It made him happy that she and his mother were getting along so well.
“Any regrets?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’m just a bit scared of what it all means. Where it’s going. Where it will end.”
“I am, too.” He cleared his throat. “We’ll take it slowly,” he promised, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing the inside of her wrists. “One day at a time, okay?” His eyes shimmered in the low lights of the room. He wanted to kiss her, deeply and thoroughly, but knew if he dared just take a peck, they wouldn’t make it downstairs.
They’d been married for three hours, and like any eager couple, they should have made love already, be making love at the moment. He cherished the fact that when he made love to Michelle, it would be as her husband and not just a man she loved, or one who simply desired her. He hoped his decision to wait would prove to Michelle that he didn’t just marry her for sex.
“Ready?” he asked, smiling into her eyes.
“Yes.” Michelle hooked her hand between his arm, but as they started for the door, she faltered as the sexy scent of his cologne gently fanned her nostrils. The wait was killing her. She just wanted to skip the party, strip him naked and show him what a sex vixen she could be in the bedroom.
But first, she had to prove she could be a lady in the boardroom. Holding her own while rubbing shoulders with some of the smartest people in New England was the greater challenge. If she could pull this off, she could do anything.
***
Erik watched Michelle as she danced with yet another smitten man. She’d been in demand from the moment they’d been announced. He’d had one full dance with her before every eligible man at the function started lining up for a turn. He couldn’t damn well protest since he’d introduced her as his daughter’s nanny and not his wife. It’s a good thing he’d married her this afternoon, put his brand on her, or he’d be sweating with worry and jealousy right about now.
“She’s a real beauty, Erik. If I were you, I wouldn’t take my eyes off her, either.”
Erik glanced at Russell as they reclined on a couple of club chairs in a corner of the ballroom. Michelle was, by far, the most beautiful woman here tonight and he was happy that she was having a blast. But as the night dragged on, he could feel his patience begin to wane. He had a burning need to have her all to himself, upstairs and in his bed.
“Brings back memories,” Russell continued, with a hint of nostalgia in his voice.
“Yes, I’m sure it does. Lisa was the belle of the night, five years ago when she accompanied her father to the ball.”
Russell’s face lit up with a grin. “Yep. I snagged her that night, and didn’t let her out in public until I’d put my claim on her.” Russell shifted in his seat to face Erik more fully. “The way you’ve been looking at Michelle tells me she’s more than a na
nny, Erik. My advice is that you refrain from flaunting her in front of other men until you make her yours. Make damned sure she knows she belongs to you.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“It’s all over your face, man.” Russell took a sip from his wine glass then leaned in closer. “Look, I know what you went through when Cassie died. Your heart was ripped apart. Life as you knew it ended. There’s a time for moaning and grieving. You’ve done it. Nobody would blame you for moving on, Erik. You deserve it. My goddaughter deserves a mother.”
“There are still so many questions I need answered before I can make that move, Russ.”
“And what if you never find them, Erik? Are you going to let that beautiful woman slip away from you? Just look at the attention she’s been attracting from all the eligible doctors here tonight. I tell you man, if you don’t make a move, one of them will. You can’t play around with a woman like that.”
Erik took a sip of the warm crimson liquid in his glass. He’d been nursing that drink all evening. It was his only one. He wanted to have a sober, level head when he went back to his room. He and Michelle had waited too long for this for him to spoil it with inebriation. He intended to make hard, slow love to her, all night long.
He smiled at Russ, wishing he could share his secret with him. When he’d proposed marriage to Michelle last night, he’d told himself that it was for guiltless sex. But deep in his heart, Erik knew it was more than that.
And until he could admit that to himself, he could not tell anyone else, not even his parents. He had to work this thing out by himself. He couldn’t tell Russ that he’d already put his claim on Michelle, and that by the end of the night, she would be in his bed, and under him—his wife in every sense of the word.
“Excuse me, Gentlemen, but I believe one of you owes me a dance.”
Erik went rigid at the sound of Bridget’s voice behind him. He closed his eyes for a few tense seconds and inhaled deeply. When he opened them, she was standing in front of him, her blue eyes fixed on his face, her scarlet lips twisted into a smile, meant to enthrall him. “You’ve been avoiding me,” she said to him.
Russell cleared his throat. “I think I hear my wife calling.” He gave Erik an ‘I wouldn’t trade places with you for the world, friend’ look, rose to his feet and made his way through the throng of swaying black and white tuxedos and colorful floor-sweeping gowns.
Erik knew exactly what his friend was thinking. It wasn’t too long ago that Russell had told him Bridget had commissioned him to put in a good word for her. Russell had thought the request humorous, since his opinion of Bridget matched Michelle’s.
“It’s just you and me now,” Bridget said, holding out a hand while batting her eyelids at him.
With an inward groan, Erik set his glass on a corner table and pushed to his feet. As he looked Bridget over, he finally realized the verity of Russell and Michelle’s perception of her. Bridget was a phony—from her thin, carefully drawn eyebrows, her false eyelashes, to her scarlet Botox lips. He knew for a fact that she’d had breasts implants done. He thought of Michelle’s breasts—real and perky—and the feel of her brown nipples against his tongue.
“I’ve been waiting to dance with you all night, Erik.” Bridget placed her hands on his arms, indicating that she would not take no for an answer.
“Okay, Bridget,” he conceded, to avoid a scene. He’d succeeded in brushing off her advances in the past, but tonight she was extremely aggressive. He hadn’t missed the shock on her face when he’d walked in with Michelle. She hadn’t hidden her disappointment that he’d turned down her request to escort her to the party, and stay overnight. Bridget was an attractive catch, for a man who liked dolls. He wasn’t that man. Michelle was the only woman he wanted, the only woman he burned for.
“One dance.” Erik placed his hands on Bridget’s waist and led her unto the floor. Although the room was cool, he was suddenly feeling very warm. He tried not to be too rigid as he forced himself into the rhythm of the band music.
“So, what’s going on between you two?” Bridget asked.
“Who?”
“The golden princess you brought to the gala. Who else?”
“Careful, Bridget. Your claws are showing. There’s no need for name-calling and jealousy.” Especially not at my wife.
“Is that because there’s nothing to be jealous about? She’s just your daughter’s nanny and nothing else, right? She’s not even your type, Erik. You have nothing in common. You and I, on the other hand, are compatible in countless ways. I can’t imagine you having an important conversation with her, except if it’s about Precious, of course. Does she even have a college degree?”
This dance was over. Erik came to a screeching halt, and with his hand resting against her lower back, he practically shoved Bridget off the crowed floor and into an empty corner of the room. It was one thing when he was single, but he was a married man now, and even though Bridget didn’t know of his changed status, her unwanted advances, and her diatribes about Michelle were grating heavily on his nerves. The time had come to end it.
He looked her squarely in the eyes. “There’s no need to be jealous, Bridget, because, quite simply, there’s nothing going on between you and me,” he said as gently as he could. “We’re friends. Great friends. That’s all it ever was, would ever be. You have to stop chasing me. I don’t want to be caught by you.” He spread his hands and squared his shoulders. “I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is, and if you can’t accept that, then perhaps we shouldn’t even be friends.”
She looked up at him, disappointment and hurt in her eyes. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Erik. I’ve never hidden the way I feel about you. If you’d only give us a chance, I can change your mind. I—”
“Erik.”
Erik’s heart missed a fast beat at the low sultry sound of his name. Only Michelle could say his name with such husky tenderness. He turned around and gave her a dashing grin. “Michelle, I was just about to come find you,” he said, his ire dissipating at the enchanting sight of her. She stood confident and proud under the low lights of the overhead chandeliers, her brown skin glowing like amber against the soft material of her dress.
“Good, because we’ve only had two dances, and after all, I’m your date.” Michelle eyed her blue-eyed rival with objectivity. She had noticed her flirting shamelessly with Erik all evening. And just a few minutes ago, she’d noticed the tension in Erik’s body as he began to dance with Bridget, and then just a moment ago, when he’d brought it to a sudden stop, she knew something was wrong, so she’d cut her dance short and come to her husband’s rescue.
No woman, no matter how alluring she looked, was taking Erik away from her, especially not tonight. She hadn’t brought him back to life for Dr. Ashley to weasel him out from under her nose. Erik was hers, even if she couldn’t shout it from the rooftop. And what was hers, she kept.
“Erik and I were in the middle of an important conversation about medical issues, Michelle,” Bridget said. “Things you won’t understand,” she added with a hint of superiority in her voice. “So if you could spare him for a couple more minutes, I would be so grateful.”
“Your medical issue will have to wait, Dr. Ashley. Erik’s not here to talk medicine. He’s here to have fun. And the look on his face says he isn’t having any at the moment.” She leaned possessively against Erik’s arm, and her black eyes flashed mischievously and seductively at him. “I just made a request for us, Erik. I would love to dance with you.”
“Sorry, Bridget. The lady does have a point. She is my… my… date, and I’m here to have fun.”
Both amused and flattered by Michelle’s blatant possessiveness, Erik bowed graciously to a pup-faced Bridget, took his wife by the waist, and waltzed her into the slow, seductive rhythm of ‘We’ve Got Tonight’.
“I think she’s scared of you,” he whispered as he drew into the circle of his arms.
“She should be,” she threw back, lacing her arms aroun
d his neck. “I grew up in a tough neighborhood. I fight for what’s mine. And you’re mine.”
“Sweet Lord.” Erik chuckled. The Moonlight fragrance of her skin filtered through his nostrils, into his brain, until all he could feel, think, and smell was Michelle.
* * *
The beating of her heart echoed loudly in Michelle’s ears as she slowly shed her clothes. The excitement and confidence she’d felt two days ago when Erik suggested this romantic evening had gone, and she was now a tight bundle of nerves.
This was the second man she would be intimate with. She chuckled skittishly as she walked into the bathroom and began cleaning off her makeup. Her only sexual experiences had been awkward ones with an immature boy who’d caused her more frustration than pleasure.
Erik was a man, a very experienced one. He specialized in women’s bodies, and for that specific reason she feared she would disappoint him.
She took a quick shower then applied a lightly scented Moonlight lotion to her damp body, then after donning one of the sexy lingerie sets she’d purchased from Victoria’s Secret, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Get a grip, girl. Everything will come naturally. Women have been doing this for ages. Just go with the flow.
She brushed her damp palms across the ruffled stretch-lace teddy. The vertical slits in the cups revealed glimpses of her breasts and nipples. The bodice was tied in the front with three ribbons, and a pair of white panties topped off her seductive garb.
Was she too presumptuous for bringing along such a tempting garment? Would Erik find her sexy? Would she be woman enough to satisfy him? All these questions hammered through her head as she walked to the adjoining door and turned the handle to find an anxious Erik waiting on the other side.
A bolt of electricity coursed through Michelle as her eyes took in his lean, hard body rippling strong and powerfully against the silky material of the black silk robe he wore. He groaned upon seeing her, and as she watched the flash of hunger in his amber eyes, and the rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled deeply and slowly, her heart began to hammer against her chest.