Twice the Temptation

by Francis Ray

  Bold and greedy one moment, gentle and persuasive the next, his tongue stroked, tasted, teased. With each brush of his tongue, each touch of his sure hand on her heated flesh, the need for more intensified. Her hands clutched the lapels of his jacket both to draw him closer and to give stability to her swirling world. This kiss was like no other they had shared. It burned. It demanded. It inflamed.

  Hope moaned.

  Sebastian shuddered.

  His arms locked around her slim body, he lifted his head. “Do you trust me?”

  Air rushing through her lungs, her thoughts scattered, Hope marveled that he had the presence of mind to form and ask a coherent question.

  “Do you?” he rasped.

  Pressed close to him, she felt the anger of his gaze, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his hard arousal. Yet she also felt the tender way in which he held her despite his anger, but more than anything she felt the absolute rightness of being in his arms.

  On tiptoes, she brushed her mouth across his lower lip, then bit. “Yes.”

  A hard shudder racked his body. His arms pulled her closer. “Thank goodness. Thank goodness.”

  His mouth found hers again. His hands were everywhere on her. They seemed to know instinctively the places to bring the most pleasure. Hope reveled in the pleasure sweeping through her body. Clothes were hastily cast aside in a feverish rush to be as one. The pace was fast and wild and glorious. When completion came, the exquisite ecstasy brought tears to Hope’s eyes. Holding her, Sebastian kissed each one away.

  “What time does Bridgett get up on Saturday mornings?” he asked, his mouth moving across the damp skin on her shoulder.

  “A-around seven.” She arched her neck to give him greater access.

  “Good,” he murmured. “Then we have all night to enjoy each other.”

  Hope’s answer was a broken whimper of need as Sebastian’s hot mouth moved purposefully down the taut slope of her breast.

  NINE

  Hope had made her decision.

  Her arms wrapped around her bent legs, her chin resting on her knees, she sat on the stone steps of Bridgett’s house and waited for Sebastian to arrive. Like the schoolgirl she had compared herself to early in their relationship, she was too excited to wait inside for him. She didn’t want to miss one second of looking at him, of being with him.

  Lifting her head, she laughed out loud with the sheer pleasure of loving and being in love. The past three days had been magical. Saturday morning before dawn, Sebastian had awakened her with a kiss and breakfast, since they’d never gotten around to eating the night before. Sitting up, she had gasped in delight. Red, pink and white rose petals were scattered all around her. After eating, they had made love. The fragrant scent of the flowers enveloped them. Never again would she be able to see or smell a rose without remembering that morning.

  After taking her home, he’d returned after Hope had gotten off work a little after twelve, to take them—Bridgett included—to his estate near Long Island. The Tudor-style home, with two formal gardens, a sweeping green lawn, and mature trees, was incredible. She wasn’t surprised to see a stable. They’d gone horseback riding, then swimming in the beautiful pool.

  Late that evening, while Bridgett and Jeremy took a nap, Hope and Sebastian, hand in hand, had strolled the winding stone path in the formal gardens and talked about her good marriage, his bad one; the devastation of her husband’s sudden death, his relief when his wife filed for divorce and, once it was final, her marriage to a wealthy banker three times her age. Both Hope and Sebastian had caught the acting bug while in high school, but while she continued to act, he had gone behind the scenes to direct. She was the youngest of three girls from Miami. He had grown up in Los Angeles and had a sister ten years younger. Sharing these details had brought Hope and Sebastian closer.

  When they returned to Harlem late that night, Sebastian had carried a worn-out Jeremy up to his room, looked at her with longing and regret, then kissed her and left. Neither had wanted to say good night.

  An hour later, her phone rang. It was Sebastian. They’d talked for two hours before she started yawning and he’d said good night.

  He had spent Sunday afternoon with them playing board games. But today, Monday, was just for them. Jeremy was in school and Bridgett planned to work in her flower garden. Hope and Sebastian would have the penthouse to themselves with a wonderful lunch Antoine had prepared.

  She couldn’t wait.

  A black limo turned onto her street. Hope shot up from her perch, then ran down to the sidewalk. There was no sense playing coy.

  The car stopped. Grinning, she quickly bent and opened the door. “Goo—” Shock had her straightening abruptly and stepping back.

  “Hello, Hope,” Margot said.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Get in and I’ll tell you.”

  “Never mind. There’s nothing you can say that I want to hear.” Hope swung around.

  “What about the ruination of Sebastian’s career?”

  Whirling back, Hope returned to the car, her heart thudding crazily in her chest. “What are you talking about?”

  “Get in,” Margot said, her voice demanding.

  Hope got in and closed the door.

  “Very smart of you. We both know what I want, so I won’t waste time. After seeing a picture of you with Sebastian in the paper this morning, I thought you needed to hear some hard facts.”

  “Our picture was in the paper?” Hope questioned, unsure how she felt about it.

  Margot’s lips curled. “Don’t flatter yourself. It was taken Friday night when you left Roscoe’s. Apparently Variety had a need to fill space.”

  “Was your picture in the paper?” Hope asked, reasonably sure she knew the answer.

  “My picture has been in newspapers and magazines all over the world,” Margot snapped. “My fans adore me. I’ve proven what I can do on Broadway. You haven’t, and if you try to play Eleanor you’ll ruin Sebastian’s career.”

  Hope’s pulse leaped. “Sebastian has a fantastic career.”

  “You could ruin it. People were laughing after you two left.”

  Not by one flicker of emotion did Hope show her rising fear. She was as good an actress as Margot. “People like to talk. Roscoe is the major backer and he thinks I’m brilliant.”

  “One scene does not make a play,” Margot said in a dismissive tone. “Did Roscoe actually say he wanted you for the part?”

  “No,” Hope had to admit.

  “Of course he didn’t. Roscoe is a smart businessman. Sebastian is a hell of a director, but even he can be led around by his pants.”

  Hope hadn’t been expecting such a tasteless comment. She flushed. Margot had been watching her closely.

  “Did he fix you breakfast in bed?” Margot wanted to know. “Sebastian is an inventive, exuberant lover, and always attentive.”

  This time Hope was ready for the vindictive woman. Jealousy clawed at her, but she refused to give vent to it. Her expression remained flat. “Sebastian believes in me as an actress. He wants me, not you, for the part of Eleanor.”

  The earlier satisfaction in Margot’s eyes disappeared. Her mouth tightened. “Maybe so, but if the play fails, he’s going to lose more than face. He’s invested his own money. I know you care about him, so do him a favor and tell him no today.”

  “You know about the deadline?”

  Margot’s laugh scraped against Hope’s frayed nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. “Of course. Roscoe told me. He and I are very close. He wants a sure thing. If you think I’m lying, call him.” Giving Hope the phone number, she had one last parting shot. “I have a lot of influence in this town and my friends have even more. We can do this the hard or the easy way. Tell Sebastian no and get out of his life, or try to hold on to him and play Eleanor, and I’ll do everything in my power to discredit both of you. The next time you see your picture it might be in the tabloids, and I can guarantee the reading won’t be tame.�
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  Hope got out of the car, not noticing when the limo pulled away from the curb. She tried to dismiss Margot’s words as jealousy, but deep down Hope had to admit there was truth in them as well. One short scene didn’t make the play. Friday night she had seen the disbelief in people’s faces.

  Margot was one of them. Hope was an outsider.

  Turning, she walked back into the house and started up the stairs, stumbled, and went down on her knees. Trembling, tears burning the backs of her eyes, her throat stinging, she wasn’t sure she had the will or the energy to stand. For the second time in her life she had lost the man she loved.

  “Hope?” Bridgett called, concern in her voice.

  Hope heard her friend, but she wasn’t able to make herself move.

  “Hope?” Bridgett repeated, joining Hope on the stairs, her arm going around her waist. “What’s the matter? Hope, you’re frightening me.”

  “I—”

  The peal of the doorbell cut her off. Sebastian. The trembling of her body increased. “T-tell him I’m not here.”

  “Why?” Bridgett questioned, her anxiety increasing.

  “Please.” With an effort, Hope pulled away and started up the stairs.

  “I thought—”

  “Please, Bridgett. I don’t want to see him. Please.” The doorbell chimed again. “Please.”

  “All right.”

  Hope’s nod was almost imperceptible.

  Bridgett watched Hope’s slow, measured steps as she climbed the stairs. The doorbell chimed for a third time. Tugging off her garden gloves, Bridgett went to answer the door. The anger in Sebastian’s face took her aback.

  “Did you and Hope have a fight?” Her hand remained on the doorknob, blocking entrance into the house.

  “Why do you ask?” he rasped, unease sweeping through him.

  “Because she looked to be in worse shape than you,” Bridgett answered.

  His face contorted with fury. “Then that was Margot’s limo Eli recognized.”

  “Margot Madison was here?”

  “Where’s Hope? I need to talk with her.”

  “Upstairs, but she doesn’t want to see you,” Bridgett said. “I’m sorry, but I have to respect her wishes.”

  “I need to know what she told Hope,” Sebastian said, dread quickly overruling every other emotion. “You’ve got to let me see her. Margot is a vicious shrew. She’d do anything or say anything to hurt Hope and try to stop her from playing Eleanor.”

  “I—”

  “Please, Bridgett. I’ve never begged for anything in my life, but I’m begging now.” Hope meant too much to him to lose. He wanted her to be a part of his life, and that desire had nothing to do with her taking the part of Eleanor. But the decision should be hers. Not one influenced by Margot’s lies.

  “Ground rules,” Bridgett began. “You talk from outside her bedroom door unless she asks you inside. No shouting. She’s upset enough. And lastly, I’m going with you and if I feel Hope is becoming too upset, you’ll have to leave. Take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  Bridgett stepped aside. Sebastian rushed past her. His foot was on the fourth step before he stopped. He almost vibrated with impatience.

  “Go on up. But remember, I have excellent hearing.”

  Giving her a smile of gratitude, Sebastian continued up the stairs. He rapped on the door. “Hope, it’s me. Please let me in.”

  Silence.

  “Hope, please. Margot is a shrew. She wants to play Eleanor and knows I’ll walk before I direct her.” His hand closed around the doorknob and clenched. “Hope, open the door.”

  The silence was painful and frightening.

  His head and the flat of his palm rested on the door. “Hope, don’t do this to me, to us.”

  “Sebastian,” Bridgett said, her own voice unsteady.

  Slowly he straightened. “Hope, I’ve always had lousy taste in women. Now that I’ve finally got it right, I’m not letting you toss away what we have. Sooner or later we’re going to talk. I care about you. Just remember that, instead of the lies Margot told you.”

  His hand flexed on the door. He turned, started down the hallway, then stopped. “Take care of her, Bridgett. Neither Jeremy nor I like to see her cry.”

  “I will.”

  His hands deep in his pockets, he started down the stairs, then he whipped them out. Fury darkened his eyes. If he couldn’t talk to Hope, he’d find Margot, and heaven help her when he did.

  Curled up on the bed, Hope heard a soft knock on the door. Bridgett. Sebastian’s knock had been sharp, and a bit desperate. “Are you alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come in.” The door slowly opened.

  “Hope, you have a right to be angry with me, but Sebastian was so worried about you I had to let him come up. He cares about you.”

  She spoke without opening her eyes. “I know. That’s why I can’t see him ever again.”

  Easing down on the bed beside her, Bridgett stroked her hair. “You want to talk about it?”

  Hope told Bridgett about Margot’s threats, and ended by saying, “If it was just me, I’d spit in her eye and tell her to take her best shot.”

  “Hope, Sebastian is an influential man in his own right and can take care of himself,” Bridgett reminded her.

  Rolling over on her back, Hope crossed her arm over her eyes. “I know that, but you didn’t see the hate in Margot’s eyes. There’s no telling what she’d do, the horrible lies she’d spread. There is going to be enough pressure on him without Margot stirring up problems. Sebastian was adamant about not giving Margot the part, but maybe if I’m not in the picture she’ll calm down.”

  “So your mind is made up.”

  “Yes.” Lifting her arm away, she rose and called Sebastian’s secretary. “Dana, this is Hope Lassiter. Please tell Sebastian the answer is no and that I don’t want him to contact me again.” Slowly, she hung up the phone.

  The short leash on Sebastian’s temper shortened considerably when his secretary contacted him about Hope’s decision. He called immediately, but she refused to talk with him. And the person who had started this mess wasn’t to be found. After hours of fruitless searching, Sebastian went to the one person who would get a message to her.

  “Roscoe, when you see Margot, tell her I’m putting the word out. I won’t work with her ever. I don’t even want to be in the same room with her. So if she’s invited, don’t expect me.”

  Sitting behind his massive desk in his home study, Roscoe jerked the cigar out of his mouth. “Now, wait a minute, Sebastian. You just said Hope wasn’t going to take the part. What about the play?”

  “I could give a flying leap.”

  “Let’s be reasonable,” Roscoe soothed, coming from behind his desk.

  “Believe me, I’m trying. I warned you about Margot and you wouldn’t listen,” Sebastian accused. “Find yourself another director.”

  “What? I can’t be held responsible for what Margot did. You can’t walk out like this. I’ll lose millions. I’ll sue you.”

  “You know where to send the papers.” Sebastian started from the room.

  “Wait,” Roscoe yelled, and quickly caught up with him and saw the determination in Sebastian’s face. “You’d really toss away millions on this?”

  “Yes.” The answer was sharp and final.

  “She means that much to you?”

  “Yes, and unless you help me get her back, I’m seriously considering putting your name on the list beside Margot.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” Roscoe railed, stuffing his cigar back in his mouth and mangling it badly. “You said she won’t talk to you. Why is she going to listen to me?”

  “I have a plan,” Sebastian said, feeling the vise that had been constricting his chest since he’d left Hope that morning ease. “There’s one place she can’t run away from me.”

  Hope made herself crawl out of bed Tuesday morning, walk Jeremy to school, then go to
work and get the inquisition over. She’d left work Saturday running to be with Sebastian. They’d see the dramatic difference as soon as they caught a glimpse of her face. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and walked inside.

  It wasn’t until she was halfway across the floor that she noticed the absolute quiet. Her head came around. She spotted Sebastian immediately. Her heart leaped, then tumbled back to earth. Whirling, she started for the door. Bridgett, Antoine, and Eli blocked her path.

  Sebastian stepped in front of her. “I told you we’d talk sooner or later.”

  Her hands clamped around her oversized handbag; it was that or fling them around Sebastian’s neck and never let go. “Mrs. Fulton is due any minute.”

  “Lydia is going to take care of her. The charming woman graciously consented to change stylists even before I offered to send her and her husband out tonight for dinner and dancing. Now, about us.”

  “There is no us.”

  He stepped closer until his heat, his hardness, and the spicy scent of his cologne filled her nostrils. Her breathing quickened. “You want to say that again?”

  She licked her lips. This time it was Sebastian’s breathing that quickened.

  “Hope.” He uttered her name with reverence. “How did Margot get you to leave me?”

  Margot’s name effectively killed the sensual spell he had created. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She tried to leave and found herself without her bag, pressed against Sebastian’s very disturbing chest.

  “What lies did Margot say?” he questioned, rubbing his cheek against hers.

  Weak woman that she was, Hope told him everything, her voice so breathless and soft, her words so disjointed she wasn’t sure he heard her until she saw the rage in his black eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Margot will be the one who’s sorry once she surfaces.” He spoke without looking away from her. “Roscoe. Shelton.”

  Two men appeared on either side of her. “Roscoe, you’re up first.”

  “I’m sorry for any unhappiness you might have been subjected to, and as the major backer for A Matter of Trust, I implore you to reconsider. You have my utmost support.”