by Francis Ray
“Don’t you just hate it when women are right?” Vincent said with a grin. He looked at Brian and Emma still locked in each other’s arms, the kiss showing no signs of ending, then thumped his cousin on the back. “There’ll be enough time for that. Now, we need to find Emma’s ring.”
“Oh, my goodness!” Brian straightened, panic in his face.
“My ring!” Emma cried frantically, pressing the palms of her hands over her face.
“I’ll get a flashlight.” Emma’s mother rushed back into the house.
“Oh, Daddy, we’ll never find it!”
Her father lovingly patted her on the back. “Don’t you worry, baby girl, we’ll find your ring if we have to take up every blade of grass.”
They didn’t have to do that, but it did take fifteen minutes of searching on hands and knees, fingers combing through thick blades of St. Augustine grass that hadn’t been cut in a week.
Vincent located the ring, stone down in the tiny crevice between the grass and the edge of the sidewalk. “Found it.”
With a cry of delight, Emma rushed over. Brian snatched the ring from Vincent’s hand, gallantly went down on one knee, and slipped the ring on her finger. “I’ll love you always.”
“Brian, I’m so sorry,” Emma said, tears in her voice and in her eyes. “I’ll never doubt you or take my ring off again.”
Vincent glanced at Charlotte and Emma’s mother. Both were sniffing. He looked at Emma’s father, who looked as perplexed and uncomfortable as he felt. He handed Charlotte his white monogrammed handkerchief with one hand, then, with the other, lifted Brian to his feet.
“Charlotte needs to get home and I doubt you want to tax the patience of your future in-laws any further. Good night, everyone.”
Grinning, Brian allowed himself to be pulled away. “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton. Emma, I’ll call you as soon as I get home.”
She threw kisses and would have followed her fiancé to Vincent’s car, but Charlotte caught her by her dress. “Brian lives twenty minutes from here. That’ll give you just enough time to pick out a sensational outfit for church tomorrow, roll up your hair, then put some cucumber slices on your eyes. You don’t want to give that shameless Teresa any reason to think her plan might have worked, do you?”
Emma turned to Charlotte. “It almost did.”
Charlotte smiled. “Almost doesn’t count.”
“Thank you and Vincent for caring.” Emma gave her a hug. “I couldn’t have chosen a more perfect maid of honor.”
Loneliness hit Charlotte again. Always a maid of honor and never a bride. Somehow she managed to smile, then rushed to Vincent’s car and got into the backseat trying not to think of the empty house waiting for her.
When Vincent pulled up behind Charlotte’s white Lexus in the circular driveway it was almost four in the morning. He met her on the sidewalk as she dug into her oversized black purse. “What are you looking for?”
“My house keys.”
“They aren’t on your key ring?” He frowned as she continued to rummage through her bag.
Shaking her head, she never looked up. “Too easy for some unscrupulous person in valet or the auto shop to make a duplicate. Here it is.” Lifting the key, she opened the door and turned. “Well, good night and thanks again.”
“You don’t have an alarm system?” he questioned. From down the street came the barking of a dog.
She made a face and pushed her curly auburn hair behind her ear. “Yes, but I forgot to activate it when I left tonight.”
“It wasn’t on last Saturday night when I brought you home either,” he said, censure in his voice. “It’s senseless and careless having a system and not turning it on.”
“Don’t start being difficult again.”
He peered down at her. “I’m never difficult.”
She rolled her eyes. “Spoken like a man.”
“I am a man.”
She had no comeback to that. He was a man and a very tempting one at that, but he was taken. Southern women never poached. “Good night, Vincent. Your friend is probably still waiting on you.” Charlotte knew she would have been.
He stepped closer, surrounding her with his arousing clean male scent. “There is no one waiting for me.”
Instead of assuring her, his words had the opposite effect. “You’re into one-night stands?”
The horror and accusation in her voice had him grinding his teeth. “No.”
“But I—”
“I was dreaming! All right?” he practically snarled.
She blinked, then her lips curved upward in a slow sultry smile. She dreamed too. “All right.”
He stared at her lips, glistening and inviting. “You’re trying to tempt me, Charlotte.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
Her Southern accent had thickened. He thought of long lazy nights of loving with him deep inside her and her straining to get closer. His body went as hard and as stiff as forged steel. He would have sworn neither of them moved, but somehow their faces were closer, their lips almost … All he had to do was …
Their lips touched, the gentle joining of mouths. Their bodies gradually sank together as first one tongue then the other tentatively explored the shape, the heat, the drugging desire to have more, to taste more.
On tiptoe, Charlotte wound her slender arms around Vincent’s neck. One of his strong arms slid around her tiny waist and anchored her snugly against his hardness. His other hand tunneled through her thick hair. He deepened the kiss, taking them both deeper into passion, into need.
With consummate expertise he plundered her mouth and scattered her thoughts. Her body quivered like a taut bow, caught and held by the will of this man. A willing, eager participant, Charlotte pressed closer to the hard, muscular length of him. He felt good and made her feel even better.
Vincent held on to his sanity by sheer force of will. Somehow, he got them through the door and shoved it closed behind them. A kiss had never taken him under so fast or so completely.
Charlotte was fire and desire in his arms, burning out of control and he was enjoying every mind-blowing second. He couldn’t get enough. Groaning, his hands slid under the black spandex top and closed over her breasts. She moaned and he moaned right along with her.
He had to see. He looked down and almost lost it. The black scrap of lacy confection didn’t even try to hide the creamy swell of her lush breasts. His thumb grazed over a nipple. It pouted immediately for him. Charlotte’s breath hissed through her teeth. So sensitive. Probably tasted like chocolate mixed with whipped cream.
Lips parted, his head bent. He had to taste and find out.
The phone rang.
The strident sound was like a blast of frigid air. It rang again. Eyes closed, Vincent reined in his desire with an iron will. Straightening, he withdrew his hands and pulled down her blouse, then looked up into her dazed eyes. “Should I say I’m sorry?”
She drew in a gulp of air past lips that were damp and swollen from his kisses before she could speak. “Only if you are.”
For once in his short relationship with Charlotte, Vincent didn’t have to ponder his answer. “No.”
Relief swept across her face. “Good, because neither am I.”
The answering machine activated on the fifth ring. “Charlotte, this is Emma. Brian is on the other line. We wanted to make sure you got home safely. Hope we didn’t disturb you.”
“Thanks again, Charlotte,” Brian said. “I know Vincent made sure you got home all right, so we’ll call him.”
Quickly crossing the living room, Charlotte snatched up the receiver. “I’m here.”
She stared back at Vincent and wished she was still in his arms, letting him drive her crazy with his mouth and hands. Who would have thought a conservative man like Vincent could kiss like the scoundrel every woman secretly dreams of finding and taming? He certainly didn’t dress like one.
Tonight he wore a pink diamond-patterned shirt with a white collar and cuffs.
He even had on a properly knotted tie at four in the morning. On another man, she would have thought the shirt too feminine, but on Vincent anything looked good. But she’d bet he’d look even better without anything on.
His black eyes darkened as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. The temperature of her body shot up again.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” she asked, having no idea what either Brian or Emma had said after she answered the phone. “No. You didn’t disturb me. Yes, I’m fine. Good night. I’ll see you in the morning at church.” She replaced the receiver, then linked her fingers and stared across the room at Vincent.
“I suppose this has happened between a maid of honor and a best man before,” he said casually.
All the mellow feeling inside Charlotte shattered. “Are you making a generalization or an accusation?”
“Watch it or you’ll be apologizing again,” he told her, the corners of his mouth slanting upward.
“Since I hate redundancy, good night, Vincent, and thanks for your help.” She went to the door, opened it, then stepped to one side. “Church starts at eight.”
He didn’t move. “We were doing pretty good for a while tonight. You think we’ll ever make it for an entire evening without an argument?”
Because she saw amusement instead of censure, she answered honestly. “I continue to hope so.”
Crossing the room, he stopped in front of her. Strong, elegant fingers lifted her chin. “So do I.” His kiss was as fleeting as it was sweet. “Good night, Charlotte.”
Her eyelashes slowly fluttered back upward. “Good night, Vincent.”
With a gently teasing smile he stared down at her. “At the risk of starting another argument, make sure you lock the door after me.”
With a reckless smile like that he could probably ask her anything, she thought. “Since you put it like that.” She locked the door behind him, then raced down the hall to cut on the light in her bedroom.
Vincent was turning out to be very interesting. She couldn’t wait until she saw him again, kissed him again. He’d probably call after church, maybe ask her to dinner. She couldn’t wait.
Vincent didn’t call Sunday or Monday. By Tuesday Charlotte vacillated between annoyance and concern. By Wednesday afternoon she knew he hadn’t been unexpectedly called out of town on business nor was he lying broken in a hospital. He was well and working hard, according to Brian, who had been at Emma’s house when Charlotte went by to take Emma for the final fitting of her wedding gown.
Thursday morning, Charlotte frowned down at the blue phone in her office. She was tempted to just pick it up and call, but that was as far as it went. Southern women did not chase men. It was acceptable to let them know that you were interested by a look or a comment that you hoped to see them again, but that was the extent of things. Their kiss had certainly said that and more.
Why hadn’t he called? She knew when a man was interested in her. Had she done something to turn him off?
The phone rang. Her heart gave one hard knock against her rib cage before caller ID identified the call as coming from Senator Upshaw’s office. Annoyed with herself and Vincent, she picked up the phone. She wasn’t wasting another second trying to figure out why Vincent hadn’t tried to contact her. Nor was she letting him stop her from doing her job.
Thirty minutes later, she hung up the phone, the date for the senator’s fund-raising dinner finalized. The western-themed gala would take place downtown at the venerable Adolphus Hotel’s posh grand ballroom on August eighteenth.
Spinning around, she picked up a disk with the names of businesses that had political action committees and shoved it into the disk drive. As she worked through the list of companies with PACs, Ore-Tech’s name came up. Her mouth firmed, then she continued. Vincent apparently wasn’t giving her a thought. She was going to do the same with him and do her job. If he came to the shower the singles group from their church was giving Emma and Brian on Friday night, she’d show him a thing or two about tampering with a Southern woman’s affection!
Vincent heard Charlotte’s laughter before he saw her. He worked his way through the friendly crowd of young people in the sprawling ranch house of the senior pastor of their church until he was only a few feet away from her. As he had come to expect, she was surrounded by four attentive men in the spacious kitchen. In the past jealousy had never been an emotion he’d had to deal with in his personal or business life.
He was dealing with it now.
He had purposely stayed away from her since last Saturday night. He told himself he had too much work to do, which he had. But it was also to see if he would miss Charlotte. He had. Constantly.
He had come tonight because Brian had not wanted a bachelor party and his singles group at church had decided on a joint shower for the engaged couple. Brian had informed Vincent his attendance was a necessary part of the duties as best man. However, seeing Charlotte, Vincent knew he wouldn’t have been able to stay away even if he wanted to.
She had on white again. This time it was a backless ruffled silk dress that was also strapless. Fleetingly, he wondered what kept the dress up and how soon it was going to be before he found out. He started toward her.
Charlotte had seen Vincent across the room staring at her. Good. Despite the men surrounding her, she managed to make sure Vincent got a good look at her dress. She’d teach him not to kiss her like his life depended on it and then not call.
“Oh, Henry, sugar, you do say the funniest things.” She’d known Henry for five years and the other three men almost as long. They were as safe and comfortable as a ratty bathrobe. Not like the dangerous man approaching.
“Good evening, Charlotte, gentlemen. I don’t believe we’ve met.” Vincent extended his hand to the man nearest him, and in a matter of seconds the handshakes and introductions were complete. “Do you mind if I steal Charlotte for a moment or two? As maid of honor and best man, we need to talk. Reverend Bailey said we could use the game room.”
In his usual high-handed way, Vincent didn’t wait for an answer. Gently encircling her upper forearm with long, lean fingers, he pulled her away from her admirers. Shivers of awareness raced up her arm from his fingertips.
Charlotte didn’t want to be alone with Vincent, but she didn’t wish to make a scene either. She wasn’t as detached toward him as she would have wished. He looked too good in his wheat-colored suit and her body recalled too well the pleasure he could give. He closed the door to the game room behind them. Her uneasiness increased dramatically.
“What’s so important that it couldn’t wait?”
“This.” His lips descended.
Charlotte twisted her head. His lips missed her mouth, but she trembled as they brushed across her cheek, sending an undeniable shiver of longing down her spine. “If that’s all you have to say, I’ve heard it before,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the shakiness or need straining her voice. “I’m sure this isn’t what Pastor Bailey thought you had in mind.”
“You’re angry with me again.”
Lying wasn’t her style. “As a wet hen. Go kiss someone else.”
“I don’t want to kiss anyone else,” he said, the truth sinking like tenterhooks deep into his soul. His eyes slowly ran the length of her. “You look absolutely wicked in that dress. Planned for me to suffer tonight, did you?”
Her chin went up. “The thought had entered my mind.”
“You succeeded.” He pulled her into his arms. “I missed you.”
She lasted for one long breath, then she softened against him. “You didn’t call.”
“I was trying to see if I could get you out of my mind.” He held her away from him, his dark eyes intense. “I couldn’t.”
“Does that annoy you?” she asked, afraid of the answer, but realizing she had to know before she fell any further. She was half in love with the conservative scoundrel already.
He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “Not since I walked in, heard you laugh, and wanted to
punch four men I’d never met in the nose. I’ve accepted my fate.”
She tried to appear shocked, but she was too pleased to pull it off. She’d never expected a staid man like Vincent to be jealous. “They’re just friends.”
His handsome face became serious. “But you were sharing your laughter and smile with them, not me.”
Her bare arms looped around his neck. She tilted her face toward his. “I’m here now.”
He didn’t need another invitation. His mouth took possession of hers. This time there was nothing sweet about the kiss. It was blatantly arousing, a mating of tongues, a duel of desire where each became the victor. When Vincent finally lifted his head they were both shaking.
He held her tightly. She was small, but gloriously built and absolutely perfect in his arms. “I suppose we better go back and join the party.”
Still pressed against him, she stroked the curve of his jaw with her finger. “I suppose.”
Unable to resist, he nuzzled her neck and delighted in her soft sigh that ended on a ragged moan. “Any objections to my following you home?”
“None at all.” Charlotte lifted her face. “But I have out-of-town houseguests.”
“What if I offered to put them up in a hotel?” he asked, only half teasing.
On tiptoes, she kissed his chin. “Nice try, but since it’s two of the bridesmaids, I don’t think I could do that.”
“How long are they staying?”
“All weekend.”
Vincent groaned.
FIVE
Now that he had seen her, he didn’t want to go the entire weekend without seeing her again. He wasn’t leaving the game room until they had a firm date. “How about I take you ladies to breakfast?”