Valentine's Dream: Love Changes EverythingSweet SensationMade in Heaven

by Sandra Kitt

  Neesie smiled and took a sip of wine. Her grandmother lapped at her shot of whiskey and they crooned with Nancy Wilson, playing Monopoly until she bankrupted Neesie.

  At her desk until the wee hours of the morning, Neesie planned exactly how she would woo Craig over to her side.

  Chapter 5

  Apprehension tickled at Craig as he stood outside Neesie Claiborne’s house, his hand hovering above the lit doorbell. How many days had passed since he’d been shocked when she’d opened the door?

  Today was a new day and he pushed the lighted button. Cold air lapped at his coat and he wondered when it would get warm again. What was the purpose of living in the South if the winters were so northern? San Diego sounded better and better.

  He stabbed the bell again and wondered if he should have brought her a box of the delicious chocolates his company was famous for? It wasn’t technically a date, but it would have been a nice gesture. Pleasing her had suddenly become important.

  The door opened and Craig’s thoughts slipped way as he was literally taken aback.

  Neesie was dressed in full 1920s regalia. A sparkling band of fabric circled her head with a feather jutting out. Bracelets snaked her arms and the sleeveless calf-length fringed silver dress hugged her long frame. A grin crossed her painted mouth, making the mole she’d dotted above her lip dance.

  “Come in out of the cold. May I take your coat?”

  “Neesie—” She was trying to have her way and he couldn’t allow it.

  She circled him and eased his coat from his shoulders and whispered, “Go with it, please.” The urging in her voice made him nod. He’d reserve judgment for later.

  She hung his coat in the closet and he turned to drink in more of her body. The dress’s sparkling fringes caught the moonlight that streamed in from a stained-glass window. Her feet were encased in very high heels, bringing her almost eye level and making her long legs even longer.

  He’d heard how bad heels were for women’s legs and sympathized, on a remote level, but today he didn’t care. She looked good.

  “Follow me.”

  Led by an enticing sway of her hips, he followed her into a part of the house he hadn’t seen before. Light had been muted to near darkness except for a spotlight focused on a round table.

  “Sit down.” She held his chair and waited for him to be seated before she disappeared. She returned quickly with a bottle of wine and glasses and took a seat across from him.

  Craig loved watching her hands as she poured his glass, passed it to him, then poured one for herself. She sipped, commanding his full attention. A small smile danced across her lips and somewhere deep in his chest, desire was born. He tried to squelch the feeling and focused on her eyes.

  “What’s going on, Neesie?”

  “Mr. Stadler talked so much about his heyday that I thought it would be nice to transport him and his rich cronies back in time. The 1920s were a time when Stadler and his buddies were young and ambitious and poor. They worked in the newspaper business, hustled the streets or were entrepreneurs. In 1929, from an old family recipe, Donald Stadler began his chocolate company.”

  Craig sank into the soft tone of Neesie’s voice and let it lead him into her fantasy. He had to give her credit. Her research was impeccable.

  Not one for having to use his imagination for work, Craig sensed a hesitation building within himself, but allowed it to occupy only a corner of his mind. Instinct told him to take her advice and go with it. He’d promised to reserve judgment, and he was a man of his word.

  She hit a button and an image of his boss as a young man filled the wall. Craig stared, amazed. “Where’d you get that?”

  “The company historian.” Flipping several screens, Neesie took him through the beginning years of the company, filtering in the history of prohibition and the financial prosperity of the early twenties. She included slides of Stadler and his family, as well as photos and a brief statement about some of their most generous donors. She ended with pictures of the first fund-raiser and he realized her idea might have potential.

  The PowerPoint ended and he waited in silence for a moment while she aimed another remote into the darkness.

  Suddenly music was everywhere. Big band music. Craig recognized the scratchy LP sound of a real album of music by Pete Fountain. Bluesy tunes swirled around them and made him want to move, but he didn’t know how to jam to the old, old tunes. So he tapped his foot.

  Neesie stood, smiling, her eyes sparkling. “Dance with me.”

  He considered her outstretched hand and allowed his gaze to wander up her arm, over her sexy curves and land on her face.

  “This is a little out of my league.”

  “Come on.” She tugged his hand. “Just watch the screen and follow me.”

  As if activated by her voice, a Jack Lelane look-alike popped onto the wall issuing instructions on how to jitterbug. He faced Neesie, feeling silly but excited as he followed the steps.

  He caught on quickly and soon he and Neesie were moving as one, dancing.

  The sparkles on her dress swirled and he couldn’t take his eyes off her swaying body. She obviously knew what she was doing because she had added some intricate steps he wouldn’t try.

  The way she raised her hands and clapped them sent the fringes into a dizzy dance, drawing his attention to the swell of her breasts. The silver bracelets circling her upper arms offered a seductive peek into the past while the dress allowed her lithe body freedom to move. Slowly her eyes drifted open. She extended her hand and offered him his seat again.

  “While I prepare to bring the food, this is for your viewing pleasure.” She handed him the remote and pointed toward the computer. “I’ll be back in a minute with dinner.”

  Craig watched her sashay away then looked down at the remote and felt in control again. He pointed and pushed.

  Dorothy.

  Dorothy Dandridge flew across the wall, beautiful and vibrant as ever. She could sing it and swing it and he wouldn’t get tired of watching, but after a few minutes of her flawless performance, he began replacing her face with Neesie’s.

  The dance Dorothy made famous came on-screen and it was Neesie seducing him, beckoning, luring him into her abyss. She strutted boldly to the camera and he wanted to go to her and claim Neesie’s pouting mouth and experience her unabashed passion. He wanted to reach out and take her outstretched hand.

  The real Neesie touched his shoulder and he jumped clear out of his chair.

  “You okay?”

  Craig stopped the presentation, plunging them into silence. His heart hammered against his ribs and he stared at Neesie’s mouth. She was facing him, in the flesh and every part of him wanted her flesh to meet his in a soul-searching, knee-buckling kiss.

  She smiled, and even white teeth peeked through her dark tinted lips and he wet his own. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble.”

  “I’m not through yet.”

  The words purred past her lips and he reached for the self-control he was famous for, but it eluded him. He stepped close, then closer still and she took his hand. Her skin was soft and warm to his touch and she guided him back to the table. Their gazes remained locked as he sat wanting to cup her waist with his hands and bring her to him for culmination of his longing.

  He sensed she was in the same place as he, emotionally attuned to the fire that burned between them. She hadn’t released his hand, just held and stroked it in a reassuring, confident, capable way. She squeezed lightly before letting go and broke eye contact.

  Craig felt as if he’d just gone over the side of a cliff with only the strength of a robin to save him.

  A warmed plate was placed before him and he wondered where he’d been when she’d brought all the food in on the rolling service cart. The aroma of juicy beef filled the room and made his stomach ask to be filled. When it was placed before him he apologized for the growling.

  “I like a man with a good appetite.” She pulled a cloth napkin from a gold-leaf r
ing and dragged it across his lap.

  Craig nearly bolted from his seat. An erection he hadn’t planned and one he couldn’t control pressed at his slacks and lifted the cloth a couple of inches from his lap. Thankfully she’d turned her back and was working the remote. The silky strands of Bessie Smith filled the room.

  Neesie served herself an array of vegetables and potatoes and refreshed their wine before sitting down.

  “Anything I can get for you? Salt, pepper?”

  Craig tilted his head and wished he could invite her to his lap for a little relief. “Maybe later.”

  The food made his mouth water, but Neesie made his heart pound and blood pulse through his veins. He didn’t know how long he could hold out before fulfilling the one thought that had been on his mind since walking in.

  How did she taste?

  Neesie gauged Craig’s mood and was pleased. He hadn’t walked out yet. She knew going in she was swimming upstream, but he seemed content enough to hear her out. She had more plans for the evening and she prayed he would like her ideas enough to take them to Stadler. The cost of throwing a Prohibition Valentine fund-raiser was high, but they would make lots more than they spent. She’d only exceed last year’s budget by a few thousand dollars if they cut corners in certain areas.

  Craig glanced up from his plate and goose bumps beaded her skin. He was so good-looking. So fine.

  She wondered about his personal life. He worked late. That didn’t indicate a serious commitment to anyone. And he rose early. She’d called twice this week with requests for pictures from the historian who happened to park next to Craig. When Neesie’d casually asked if Mr. DuPont was in, she’d been told yes.

  She declined an offer to connect them, she’d just wanted to know if he was there.

  Neesie returned Craig’s smile as the CD changed and Louis Jordan crooned on.

  “What made you choose the twenties?” he asked.

  “Mr. Stadler. Did you know he got married on Valentine’s Day sixty-five years ago?”

  “No. You’ve done impeccable research.” He studied her over his fork and slid the metal into his mouth before allowing his lips to release it. Neesie shook herself and unglued her gaze from his mouth.

  “Just part of my job. The company historian allowed me to borrow the film and photographs and filled in the blanks wherever I needed.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, this is the meal Mr. and Mrs. Stadler shared on their wedding day.”

  “You did a lot of work and it shows. I’m impressed.”

  Craig DuPont didn’t seem the type to give compliments freely and this one made her heart thud. “Thank you. The company is so interesting. How long have you been with it?”

  “Five years.”

  “You seem like you got it goin’ on.” She couldn’t help but grin when his dark eyebrow shot up and he smiled.

  “I think so.”

  A tune by Charlie Parker filled the room with sound. The meal had been delicious, and she was content. No midnight runs to the refrigerator for ice cream tonight. But she wasn’t full of Craig. He was so...straight. And she’d always liked men who knew how to take care of their business. The only problem was they rarely liked her and her unpredictable ways.

  “Do you entertain all your clients this way?”

  “All the time. Everything should be a production. My sister and I used to dress up and pretend to be different people. I used to always be Dorothy Dandridge. She could dance her butt off.”

  Craig looked slightly uncomfortable, but Neesie pushed ahead wondering if showing Dorothy doing the banana dance topless may have been too much. Too late now.

  “I know you probably have a lot of questions especially about throwing a period party. I studied the information and the guest list you gave me and I think I’ve covered all the bases. My sister owns a costume shop downtown. All the costumes can be ordered from her. Since Nevana hadn’t sent out the invitations, I have a great idea for those.

  “I’ve looked at the brochure showing all of the products the Stadler Company sells to the public. I noticed in one brochure gold foiled coins of chocolate. But they weren’t advertised in the most current brochure. Does the company still sell them?”

  He looked at her blankly then his eyes lit up. “Yes, we have some, but they’re being discontinued. A newly designed coin will come on the market in approximately eighteen months.”

  “That’s even better! The patrons can purchase them for gambling at the gaming tables and to pay for illegal drinks.”

  Craig sat up straight and she could feel his objection.

  “You do know it was illegal to drink or sell liquor back then?”

  “I’m familiar with that bit of history,” he told her.

  Neesie wet her lips preparing to broach the most expensive portion of the proposal. He seemed relaxed enough, comfortable with what had happened so far, she decided to plunge ahead.

  “I thought we could possibly use a mansion to have the fund-raiser. Maybe even rent cars from that period—”

  “Whoa.”

  “We could even rent some guns—”

  “Whoa...whoa...whoa.” He wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin and rested his forearms on the curve of the table. “Rent mansions and cars?” He shook his head. “Guns?” Her heart sank with each shake of his head.

  “We have a budget to maintain. This fund-raiser won’t matter if we spend all the money we bring in. I like the concept and it’s obvious you’ve put a lot of time into this. But it’s not what Waymon wants.”

  Neesie wouldn’t acknowledge the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Craig needed to just give her a chance.

  “This is my best idea ever. The red-and-white theme will stay in line with Valentine’s Day and I’ve worked up an accurate cost analysis for spending. This could be very romantic, Craig and I think because it will be so different donations will exceed any previous fund-raiser.”

  “Neesie, as I’ve said, I like what you’ve done, but I don’t think guns and banana dancers are appropriate. In the past we had a dinner, dessert, speech, presentation of the checks and then everyone went home. That’s what we’re looking for again.”

  She tried to keep the hurt from her eyes as she pressed her mouth closed.

  “Craig, just think about it. Mr. Stadler would eat this up. When we talked to him he went on and on about his youth and how he got started in the candy business. It’s an obviously sentimental time for him.” Warming to her subject, Neesie rose, gesturing with her hands. “This fund-raiser is his baby even though his grandson is technically in charge of it. Aren’t we trying to make him happy?”

  His shoulders straightened and Neesie dropped her hands onto her hips.

  “There’s more to this company than Mr. Stadler’s happiness. Our reputation and responsibility to the patrons come first. Your idea is fine, but no.” He stood, too. “Can you give us a simple dinner?”

  She wanted to say no, but losing the Stadler account was out of the question. Of course she could do a dinner, speech, blah, blah, blah. Who couldn’t put a boring dinner together?

  “Sure.” She nearly choked on the word. “If you want a dinner, you’ve got yourself a dinner.”

  “Thank you.” He caught her sullen gaze. A bold stare down wasn’t called for but she hated to lose especially when she was right.

  Finally she made herself act civil. “Thank you for coming. I’ll show you out.”

  The moon cast light through the panes of the stained-glass window and Neesie wished she’d actually come up with another idea besides a simple steak dinner. She retrieved Craig’s coat and watched him shrug into it.

  “How about if I just throw this out to Mr. Stadler and ask his opinion?”

  Craig turned on her then. “Under no circumstances are you to speak to him about this...this idea. When we meet with him tomorrow, we’re presenting the dinner with traditional menu and traditional speakers, at a traditional hotel that has already been arranged
by the other coordinator. By the way, what did you hear about the hotel, band and caterer?”

  Neesie bit the inside of her cheek. “I haven’t gotten calls back yet.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He seemed happy with her answer and flapped the collar of his navy wool coat before slipping his hands into black kid leather gloves. They stood so close she could feel his breath caress her cheek.

  “Thank you for a nice evening.”

  “Sure. I aim to please.” Propping one hand on her hip, she focused on a point right past his head.

  “Neesie?”

  She took a long time meeting his gaze and when she did it felt as if the heater had just kicked on. “Everything was wonderful. This isn’t about winning or losing. It’s about playing the right game.” His hand slipped to her arms and squeezed. “Good night.”

  Neesie stood in the doorway as cold air blasted her warm skin. She felt like she’d been sunburned where his hands had touched.

  After she’d repacked the film to return to the company historian and cleaned up the dishes, Neesie lay in bed replaying the entire evening in her mind.

  Was there an exciting bone in Craig’s body? He seemed to enjoy the meal, the entertainment and her company. Then why couldn’t he grasp her concept? A rebellious part of her wanted to argue as she’d done all her life when she didn’t get her way. But the practical side took over.

  Craig said he wanted traditional. Boring.

  Neesie turned and punched her pillow into place.

  Then that’s what he was going to get.

  Chapter 6

  Craig argued the merits of getting involved with someone he worked with for the tenth time that day. His mind drifted from work, so he closed the door to his office and shot a little sponge basketball through a hoop attached to the back of the door.

  Ten points and he would ask Neesie out on a date.

  He aimed and shot in quick succession. Within seconds he had six points. If he missed the next two shots he’d leave her alone.