Only You

by Francis Ray

  Sadness touched Sierra’s face as she shook her head. “Blade is a long way from making any kind of commitment. His not being here proves it.”

  “Give him time.” Dominique sipped her drink. “From the delay, I agree he might make it yet.”

  “I wonder what the problem is?” Sierra asked. “There’s Mrs. Street. She’s coming over here and she doesn’t look happy.”

  “Sierra. I need your help.” The mother of the bride, dressed in an elegant ankle-length pink suit, looked frantic.

  “Is it the caterer?” Sierra asked.

  “The musician for before-dinner music is stuck in traffic and won’t be here for another hour. Her instrument is here because we wanted everything in place when the guests arrived. At Eloise’s shower, you mentioned that you play a harp.”

  Sierra could see where the conversation was going and didn’t like it one bit. “Not professionally, and only occasionally to appease my mother. Why don’t you have the dj you hired play?”

  “He’s stuck in the same traffic tie-up. The intercom speaker’s volume won’t reach the tent,” Mrs. Street said; her lower lips trembled, then firmed. “I’ve asked, quietly of course, and none of my friends play the harp. Eloise is beside herself.”

  Sierra glanced down at the fitted skirt that reached four inches above her knees. “I can’t. Not with this skirt.”

  “I have a cashmere shawl,” Mrs. Street offered hopefully.

  Sierra studied the concerned woman. Mrs. Street hadn’t mentioned that her family had purchased over $6 million in property from Sierra. If Mrs. Street’s new son-in-law followed through with his intent to purchase beach property at Navarone Riviera Maya, that number would increase another 5 million. She had asked as a mother wanting the best for her daughter and the man she loved.

  There was only one answer Sierra could give: “Please send for the shawl.”

  Blade stood mesmerized as did the other people standing around Sierra as her slim fingers gently plucked the strings of the harp. Her eyes were slightly closed as if she was lost in the music, music that drew him, tugged at the heart.

  Just as Sierra did.

  “Please move to the reception,” an attractive elderly woman in a stylish pink suit requested those listening on the terrace. Those who didn’t move, all men, she gently urged by putting her hand on their arms. An elderly man in a tailored tux was doing the same thing.

  His warm smile in place, The man finally reached Blade and froze. His eyes widened in recognition. “Blade Navarone.”

  “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll wait for Sierra.”

  “Of course, Mr. Navarone.”

  Blade extended his hand. “Blade, please.”

  “Jerry Street, father of the bride.” The handshake was brief but firm.

  “Congratulations,” Blade said.

  “Thank you. Please join us when you can.” Jerry Street ushered the other stragglers toward the reception.

  Blade moved closer. There were so many facets to Sierra and all of them unique and compelling. He’d never met anyone like her. He didn’t think he ever would again.

  Her slender fingers stilled. The last notes hauntingly hung in the air. Slowly her eyes opened as she lowered her delicate hands. As if she’d known he was there, she turned, a blissful smile on her face. Pulling the shawl from her lap, she draped it over a nearby chair on her way to him.

  Knowing he shouldn’t in such a public place didn’t keep him from gathering her to him. “You play as beautifully as you look.”

  “I’m glad you came.”

  At the moment so was he. “You didn’t give away my dance, did you?”

  “No way.” She hooked her arm through his and started back to Dominique, who stood quietly to one side of the terrace. “Let’s go eat. I’m starved.”

  Sierra enjoyed the scrumptious meal, but she was one of the first ones up when the bride and groom asked their guests to join them on the dance floor. “That’s our cue.”

  “I haven’t danced in years,” Blade said, slowly coming to his feet.

  “You never forget how to dance. Just ask Faith sometimes.” Sierra tugged him to the crowded dance floor. “It’s slow, so all you have to do is hold me and move your feet.”

  He recalled the other time she had told him that. This time there would be no nibbling kisses, however. A pity. “I think I can handle that.”

  She grinned at him and went into his arms, laying her head on his shoulder, humming along with the singer. Sierra was as happy as the bride. Blade had come. Slowly she was gaining a little piece of his heart.

  The song ended much too soon and another one began, this one with a fast tempo. Blade surprised her by swinging her out, keeping perfect beat with the music. “You’ve been holding out on me,” she teased.

  “You can’t know all my secrets,” he said, jesting.

  Sadness washed across her face. “If you ever want to talk about them, I’m a good listener.”

  He pulled her to him so she couldn’t see the regret on his face. His secrets were too horrible to share. This time when the song ended they went to their table.

  Once seated, Blade quickly learned Sierra was as outgoing as he was reclusive. She introduced herself and Dominique, and she introduced Blade as Rhone, the last part of his name. He should have known she’d remember he wanted to keep a low profile. Watching her charm men and women, young and old, was an unexpected pleasure.

  They didn’t leave until it was almost dark. Recalling the lonely stretch of road on the way to Dominique’s house, he insisted on seeing her home and found she was as stubborn as her cousin. He walked her to her car, then simply followed her in the Maserati.

  Sierra smiled when he continued on the freeway behind Dominique instead of taking the exit off the freeway to Navarone Place. “You remind me of Luke.”

  “In a good or bad way?” he questioned, stopping to pay the toll.

  “Definitely good.” She tossed him a smile as he pulled off. “You try reasoning, but when that doesn’t work you follow your own conscience. You’re both good men.”

  The unexpected compliment touched him. “I bet you were a handful growing up. Dominique, too. I take my hat off to Luke and Daniel.”

  “They taught us to be independent and resourceful. My guess is that Dominique knows you’re following her. She likes you or else she’d lose you.”

  “That would take some driving on this crowded freeway,” he said. “Is she another speed demon?”

  “No comment,” Sierra said.

  Blade chuckled. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Because you’re a smart man.” Sierra turned in her seat toward him as Dominique turned into the long driveway of her house. “There’s something to be said about speed demons.” She slipped the top button of her jacket free, revealing the soft swell of her breasts. “How fast do you think we could get back?”

  His blood heated, pumped through his veins, pooled below his waist. Instead of stopping as he’d planned, he waved at Trent, who was waiting at the edge of the walk for Dominique. “Let’s find out.” Blade put the car in a sharp spin and sped off.

  They made it back in record time, and without a ticket. Blade parked in the underground garage himself, then grabbed Sierra’s hand, practically racing to the elevator. If they were in his private elevator he would have slipped the rest of the buttons free on her jacket. He kept it together by not looking at her. If he saw the burning desire in her eyes, the same desire he was sure was mirrored in his, he might have lost control.

  They sprinted down the hall. Thankfully, his unsteady hand inserted the key in the lock the first try. As soon as they were inside her place, he pulled her into his arms. The kiss was hot and torrid. Picking her up, he hurried to her bedroom. They quickly undressed each other; then they were on the bed. In a heated rush he brought them together. The tempo was fast, taking her to the height of satisfaction and beyond. He was relentless. Hunger and need consumed them. They moved in harmony, giving, shari
ng, loving. They shattered together.

  It was a long time before their ragged breathing slowed. Turning to his side, he kissed her lips. She nuzzled his neck, then leaned up on one elbow. Her hand splayed on his chest, her hair flowing wantonly over one bare shoulder. “I hope you’re not sleepy. I’m not finished with you.”

  “Good, because I’m not finished with you, either.” He lifted himself, fastened his mouth on hers, and showed her.

  Much later, she yawned and snuggled against his muscle warmth. She felt bonelessly delicious. “Thank you for coming.”

  He realized before deciding to join her that he’d kept her isolated because of his fears connected to Mary. He couldn’t do that to Sierra. “You like going out.”

  “I enjoy people, new experiences.” Her foot swept down his long leg. “With the right person, of course.”

  He couldn’t keep her to himself even if he wanted. Sierra had proven she’d go without him. “Would you like to go out to dinner tomorrow night or to the Ghostbar?”

  Her head came up. Her eyes were bright. “There are a couple of restaurants Dominique suggested we try.”

  The excitement in Sierra’s voice was all the answer he needed. “We’ll go wherever you want,” he said, and hoped neither of them would regret his decision.

  Sierra should have been bubbling with happiness as she pulled into NorthPark Center. Navarone Place was 92 percent sold, and in the two weeks since the wedding, she and Blade had grown closer.

  They both worked hard but managed to spend their mornings and evenings together. At least twice a week they went out to dinner, the theater, or the museum. They’d even managed to go horseback riding and go-cart racing again.

  There was only one thing marring her happiness: the grand opening was scheduled for ten days from now. She’d have to move out, and the way sales were going, every estate would be sold by then.

  She’d have no reason to stay in Dallas.

  Neither she nor Blade talked about her leaving, but she’d catch him looking at her and know he felt time slipping away from them. She loved him, couldn’t imagine being happy without him, but he had to feel the same way. He cared, he might even love her, but something held him back from making a commitment. Until what he felt for her was more powerful than anything else, they’d never have a life together.

  Seeing the crowded parking lot, she decided on using a valet. Putting the claim ticket in her purse, she headed inside Neiman Marcus with every intention of heading to the haute couture salon on the third floor. She and Blade were attending a charity ball for the Sickle Cell Foundation Saturday night. She’d already pledged the commissions from the remaining sales at Navarone Place. Blade’s donation tripled hers.

  Just inside the door the new signature handbags at the Louis Vuitton counter caught her attention. It was never too early to start Christmas shopping for her mother. She’d never spend twenty-three hundred dollars on a bag for herself. Sierra had no problem spending that and more on her mother.

  She’d always fussed about the cost but eventually had to accept the items because the price tags were always removed and she didn’t know where to return them. She had done without to care for her children. Now all of them liked to splurge on her.

  Not seeing anything her mother might like, Sierra wandered to lingerie. She draped a couple of possibilities over her arm, then decided to see what the evening gowns on that floor had to offer.

  She started down the aisle but pulled up short when the hook on one of the hangers caught on another hanger on the suit rack. She stopped abruptly and swung around to free the hanger. A few feet in front of her, a man stopped just as abruptly. Ducking his head, he spun sharply and went in the opposite direction.

  She shook her head, thinking he was probably another reluctant man dragged into a store. Unhooking the hangers, she went to evening wear. Fifteen minutes later, she headed to the escalator and the third floor.

  “Excuse me,” chorused several teenagers as they rushed by her.

  Sierra moved aside to let them pass and saw the man again. As before, he quickly turned away, then pretended to look at a rack of ladies’ suits. Sierra studied him, then went to a nearby mirror. Sure enough, she saw his reflection. He’s following me. He’d probably seen her get out of the Maserati and planned to carjack her.

  She was too angry to be frightened. Besides, he couldn’t do anything with so many people around. Too many times to count, Luke had drilled into her head what to do in such a situation. She went to the nearest saleslady. “I’d like to try these on, please.”

  “Certainly. Let me take those.” Taking the two nightgowns, the saleswoman led the way to the fitting room.

  The moment they were out of sight Sierra pulled out her cell. “There is a clean-shaven African-American man in a black three-button suit, weighing about two hundred pounds and about five-ten, following me. Alert Security. I’m calling the police.”

  Time wasn’t on his side. Blade had known that from the beginning, but he had no idea how much it would disturb him. Blowing out a pent-up breath of frustration, he tossed aside the latest sales figures for Navarone Riviera Maya and went to the window in his home office. If sales continued, they’d be at 75 percent sold by the end of the month. But the end of the month also meant Sierra would leave.

  Just the thought of not being able to see her, touch her, made him ache. He missed her, and she hadn’t even left. What would he do when she was actually gone?

  His office door burst open. He spun around to see Sierra and a man just behind her. She vibrated with anger. Blade suddenly had a more immediate problem.

  Hell was about to break loose.

  “Why?” she snapped. “Just tell me why?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Navarone. She spotted me.” George Atkins glanced worriedly from Sierra to Blade. “I had to tell the police everything.”

  The man was supposed to be one of the best. Apparently he’d never had an assignment like Sierra. Behind them, Blade saw Shane, his jaw tight. He didn’t look any happier than Atkins. Shane had hired the man on the recommendation of an associate. Blade knew the associate would hear from Shane and wouldn’t be happy when the conversation was over.

  “Blade, I’m waiting.”

  Her angry tone said she wouldn’t wait much longer. “Please excuse us.”

  Shane took Atkins’s arm and closed the door behind them after they left. Sierra kept her irate gaze locked on Blade as he rounded the desk. “Sierra, please sit down.”

  She advanced. “Do you know how stupid I felt when your watchdog said you hired him? How exposed it made me feel in front of the police, the store’s security and executives, that my lover didn’t trust me?”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Then how was it, Blade? Did you do it because you think I’d cheat, or that I’m too stupid to be left on my own?” she spat.

  “I did it to protect you,” he answered.

  Her temper spiked. “I told you! I don’t need anyone to protect me. You didn’t listen. I can take care of myself.”

  “That’s what she thought,” he said, the words a raspy whisper. His hand swept over his face as if that would take away the image that had haunted him all these years.

  “She who?” Sierra asked, her voice hushed.

  Blade’s eyes tightly shut, then opened. They were haunted. “My wife.”

  Sierra’s legs turned to jelly. She caught the back of the side chair to steady herself. “Your wife. You were married, and you didn’t tell me?”

  “There—there were reasons,” he said.

  “And you didn’t think I deserved to know?” she asked. When the silence lengthened, she straightened, her arms wrapped around her stomach. She suspected from the agony in his voice and on his face that the woman was dead. “Is she the reason you look tormented at times?”

  “Leave it, Sierra,” he said, his voice a ragged thread of sound.

  Slowly she shook her head. “I wish I could. If it were anything else I
might.” She swallowed. The haunting memory of a deceased wife was an obstacle she hadn’t counted on. “I think it would be best if I resigned.”

  “No!” he shouted, grabbing her arms. “No!”

  “Blade—”

  “No.” He roughly pulled her to him, his hold desperate. “Don’t go.”

  She felt his body tremble, recalled that day on the beach when he had been afraid when she was missing. His fear was tied to his dead wife.

  Sierra couldn’t withhold her comfort any more than she could stop breathing. Somehow she’d help him fight his demons. “No. I won’t go.” She angled up her head and kissed the hard line of his jaw. “I won’t go. I won’t go. You don’t have to ex—”

  “My wife was kidnapped when she was seven months pregnant.” The barely audible words were hushed and tormented.

  Sierra gasped, tried to push away, but Blade held her too tightly.

  “She was carrying our first child when it happened, a boy. I’d taken her shopping. Instead of waiting outside the dressing area, I wandered off.”

  Sierra held him as tightly as he held her, steeling herself against what was coming, what was causing the torture in each of Blade’s halting words. “Faith, on vacation with her parents, was in the next dressing room, and when she went to investigate the commotion she was taken as well. Twenty-nine hellish hours later, Faith managed to free herself and escape. Mary had gone into premature labor and couldn’t follow. She had the baby, but hemorrhaged. By the time we returned to where she was being held, she and the baby were … gone.”

  A strangled cry slipped past Sierra’s lips. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “The inept police and FBI wanted to keep the story quiet. So did Faith’s parents. I agreed because Mary’s parents had suffered enough with the loss of their only child and grandchild. With Rio’s help, I tracked the men responsible.” He shuddered. “They paid, but their deaths won’t bring Mary or our son back.”

  By the time he finished, Sierra was sobbing, for him, for his wife, and their baby, who never had a chance to live.