by Francis Ray
“That’s very sweet of you, Vincent, but Emma’s mother has already invited us over.”
“Lunch?”
“We’re going shopping after breakfast and I don’t expect we’ll stop until either our feet or our credit cards give out.”
Vincent was not a man who gave up. “Dinner?”
“I promised Beverly and Carolyn to take them to The Place, a new dance club in Deep Ellum. They have a buffet there.”
“Just you ladies? No men?”
“Just us.”
Vincent frowned. “That doesn’t sound like much fun, watching other people dance.”
“Finding a dance partner won’t be a problem for either of them.” Charlotte played with the button on his jacket. “You’ll understand once you meet them.”
Vincent didn’t think Charlotte would have any problems either. The thought of her being in some other man’s arms annoyed the hell out of him. “Do you mind if I stop by?”
The pleased smile on her face came and went in a blink of an eye. Uncertainty took its place. “I don’t think you’d like the music.”
“It’s not hip-hop or rap, is it?” he asked, the distaste clear in his Bostonian accent.
The worried expression didn’t clear from her face. “No, it—” The knock on the door interrupted them. She stepped back. “Come in.”
The door opened and Henry stuck his head in. “Sorry to disturb you, but Emma and Brian are about to start opening their gifts.”
“My goodness.” Grabbing Vincent’s hand, Charlotte hurriedly left the room. “Thank you, Henry.”
Vincent allowed her to lead him back to the den decorated with streamers and balloons, then assign him to his duty. He was to make sure Emma and Brian always had a gift ready to open. Charlotte would keep track of the gifts and the givers’ names.
As the happy couple unwrapped gifts from the useful to the useless, Vincent caught himself laughing just as hard as everyone else and truly enjoying himself. However, occasionally when he glanced at Charlotte, she’d have a pensive look on her face. He pondered the cause behind the faraway expression. He didn’t like the idea of her being unhappy when she went to such great lengths to ensure the happiness of those around her. He’d find out tomorrow night what was bothering her. Because as sure as his name was Vincent Albert Maxwell, he was going to that dance club and make sure some cowboy didn’t try to make a move on Charlotte. Deep Ellum was the undisputed avant-garde district of Dallas. In the shadows of multi-billion-dollar corporations in downtown Dallas, Deep Ellum was populated with million-dollar businesses and those on the verge of bankruptcy, five-star and no-star restaurants, designers renowned and unknown, the prerequisite tattoo shops, clubs on the cutting edge or no edge. New Yorkers might have called the area “funky.” Bostonians would have called the area “urban blight.”
Vincent parked his car on the side street, and hoped he could call it safe.
He heard the music at the bottom of the three curved steps. His eyebrows lifted at the sound. The fast tempo of the Latin beat was easily distinguishable. He breathed a little easier. Charlotte obviously thought he wouldn’t enjoy being there, so he hadn’t known what to expect.
He bounded up the step under the red-and-black-striped awning and prepared himself for whatever. The room was spacious with strobe lights in the ceiling, and surprisingly smoke-free. People were pressed together at the bar, on the dance floor, and clustered around the tables circling the wooden dance floor. Arms were in the air, feet seldom were on the floor. The steps were quick and intricate.
“Vincent, over here!”
Peering through the crowd, Vincent saw Charlotte’s house guests. Beverly and Carolyn were identical twins, and built like warrior princesses with the sultry beauty to match. When asked about their unidentical names he was told their mother had always been unorthodox. Shaking his head, Vincent thought the trait had passed on to the daughters, who were having the time of their lives dancing and bumping hips with two grinning guys on the dance floor.
He waved. The women hooked their thumbs over their shoulders. Nodding that he understood, he wove his way through the crowd. He didn’t see Charlotte, but he did see three guys clustered around a table. With a shake of his head and a curve of his mouth, he headed over.
“Hello, Charlotte. Mind if I sit down?”
Her head whipped around. Her smile blossomed, then grew strained. “Hello, Vincent. I’d like you to meet these nice gentlemen who’ve been keeping me company.”
Vincent’s expression remained pleasant as Charlotte completed the introductions. It was obvious the three men wished he’d keel over with a coronary. It was just as obvious that Charlotte was worried about something.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asked when the three men had finally accepted that she wasn’t available and moved on.
“Scotch and soda,” he told her and watched in fascination as she managed against all odds to get the attention of a waiter and gave him the order.
She bit her lip, then said, “It can get rather hot in here. You want to take off your tie?”
“I’m fine,” he said, then watched her sneak another glance at him. Finally, he’d had enough. He took her hand. “If my being here bothers you in some way, I’ll leave.”
Her hazel eyes widened with obvious distress. “It’s not that.”
The waiter returned and set down his drink. Vincent let go of her hand and reached for his wallet.
“That’s all right, Charlotte has a running tab,” the man said, then was gone.
Vincent picked up his drink, his gaze on Charlotte. “You come here a lot.”
“My second time actually.” She twisted the stem of her margarita glass and eyed his red silk tie with navy stripes. “You’re sure you’re not hot?”
“I’m fine.” Vincent took a sip of his drink. Charlotte seemed to acquire friends wherever she went. The three men who had just left had struck out, but Charlotte had remained polite and cordial so they didn’t feel belittled or angry. In fact, the only time he’d ever seen her irritated or annoyed was with him. Just as she was now. Interesting.
The music changed to the hot and spicy beat of the salsa. Most of the dancers moved off the floor, including Carolyn and Beverly. They slumped into their seats on the other side of Charlotte and reached for their fruity drinks.
“Would you care to dance, Charlotte?”
Charlotte, who had just turned her glass up, choked. Vincent pounded her on the back as she stared wide-eyed at him. “W-what did you say?”
“Would you care to dance?” he repeated, telling himself again that he was going to find out what was troubling her before the night was over.
Grinning, she gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “I should have known a scoundrel would know how to dance, even the salsa.” Standing, she reached for his hand and led him on the floor to the loud applause and yells of the twins.
“You go, girl!”
“You were worried about me?” he asked as he curved his hand around her waist.
“I didn’t want you feeling uncomfortable,” she admitted.
“Thank you,” he said, then he began to move to the pulsating music.
“For what?” she asked as he made a sudden stop, twisted her away then back to him.
His eyes burned down into hers. “For caring.”
That’s all the time they had for conversation, as Vincent moved her across the floor, first maddeningly slow, then like the onslaught of a torrent. Each movement was filled with grace and power and seduction as their bodies moved first away then back to each other, the passion raw and impetuous as they teased and coaxed each other, then offered solace once again when their bodies joined.
Only once before in her life had Charlotte felt so vibrant, so alive, and it had been in Vincent’s arms as well. The dance became more than a dance. It was as if Vincent were wooing her, making love to her as he held her body and matched his steps to hers as elegantly as he matched their bodies. She l
ost herself to the throbbing beat of the music, lost herself to him. Where he led, she effortlessly followed, and when he spun her away, she yearned to be in his arms, held against his body.
The end came suddenly with the strum of a Spanish guitar. Applause erupted around them. Face to face, body to body, their breathing labored, Charlotte and Vincent stared at each other and each knew their relationship had shifted, changed into something hot and needy.
Charlotte had always known Beverly and Carolyn were good friends. The women proved it when Vincent and Charlotte finally reached their table after all the congratulations, handshakes, and pats on the back from the crowd. The twins insisted they were worn out and wanted to go home. Charlotte knew her protest was weak at best. She wanted nothing more than to be alone with Vincent. One look at Vincent and she knew he felt the same.
If they didn’t go someplace where they could get their hands on each other soon, they’d both explode.
Thankfully, on the drive to her house, Carolyn and Beverly kept chattering. Considering they were litigation lawyers for one of the largest law firms in Houston, they had no trouble talking. In their church singles group before they moved, they had lovingly been referred to as motormouths.
Charlotte parked the car in the garage, sent the twins a thank-you-for-understanding look, and rushed to open the front door. Vincent was coming up the walkway.
Charlotte rubbed her hand on the side of her red chiffon dress. “I thought we’d sit out on the patio.”
“All right.”
Closing the door after him, she turned and caught the twins grinning at them. “If you need anything, Vincent and I will be outside.”
Carolyn yawned. “I’m going to bed.”
“Me, too.” Beverly stretched.
Charlotte walked through the den, then opened the French doors leading to the backyard. Lights followed the winding path around the yard. She kept walking until she reached the double chaise lounge.
She turned and was in his arms, his mouth on hers, before she could take her next breath. It was heaven. It was hell. The yearning was almost a physical pain.
“I want you, Charlotte.”
All she could do was whimper. She wanted him too, but both knew that was impossible.
He nipped her lower lip. “Do you think they’re watching?”
“No.” Her breath hitched as he used his teeth on the delicate lobe of her ear, then worked his way downward. His tongue licked the upper curve of her breast. Her legs buckled.
Picking her up, he gently placed her on the lounge chair, then came down beside her. Even in the semidarkness, she could see the fire and passion burning in his eyes. She swallowed.
“I won’t take you tonight, Charlotte, but I’m going to come very, very, close.”
She swallowed again, thought of what a proper Southern lady should do when faced with temptation, the words of her mother and grandmother about remaining chaste until marriage, then Vincent closed his hot mouth over her nipple and she was lost.
Beverly and Carolyn had a ten-fifteen flight the next morning out of Love Field. Due to bad weather in Houston, the plane didn’t leave until two hours later. When passengers in their seat rows were called, Charlotte gave them a hug, and quickly headed for the parking garage. Vincent was taking her sailing and she could hardly wait to be with him again.
He was waiting for her when she arrived home. In less than an hour they were in the water of Lake Ray Hubbard. She couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day. Skies were blue and the wind gentle.
Later he’d taken her to dinner at a restaurant on the pier. They’d talked for hours, but were comfortable in their silence as well. When he’d taken her home, he’d driven her just as mad with longing as he had the night before. She knew she was tempting fate, but it felt too good to stop.
During the next couple of weeks, both of their schedules became hectic and they only saw snatches of each other. During those times, they’d often wonder which of their pagers was ringing, and who would be called away first. It became a standing joke between them, but it also made them appreciate their precious time together.
Vincent delighted in having a woman who understood his work and didn’t pout if he had to cancel a date. No matter what, Charlotte always greeted him with a smile and asked how his day went. She accepted that business might interfere with their plans and never made him feel guilty. He began to look forward to being with her. He’d catch himself rereading her handwritten notes on scented stationery saying she was thinking of him. Charlotte made him feel special and he enjoyed every second of it.
However, the first time Charlotte had to cancel because of an unexpected meeting with her party chairman, Vincent took her home from the theater as grumpy as a grizzly with a thorn in his paw. Much to his increased annoyance, he’d told her how he felt the moment they walked through her front door.
“Vincent, I’m sorry,” Charlotte placated, then stood on tiptoes to kiss his jutted chin. “But this couldn’t be helped. I have just enough time to pack before the car picks me up.”
Vincent was usually a very reasonable man, but tonight he couldn’t quite seem to find that quality in himself. Not when Charlotte was standing before him in a mauve-colored, clinging slip dress, looking delectable and tempting. He had been looking forward to spending an uninterrupted evening with her. “This is Saturday night, for goodness sake. Can’t you get out of it and fly down to Austin tomorrow?”
“You know as well as I do that Saturday and Sunday can be just another workday for us. Besides, could you get out of a meeting with your employer if you had key information they needed?” she asked.
“No, but I don’t have to like it,” he grumbled.
Charlotte laughed and kissed him again. “I do admire an honest man, but I’m afraid I have to throw you out.”
“I can take you to the airport,” he suggested. He didn’t want to let her go. He was surprised how strong the feeling was.
She shook her head. “Thank you, but there’s a car coming.”
He didn’t move. “How long will you be gone?”
“Probably just overnight. I’ll be back before you miss me.” She glanced over his shoulder as a limo pulled up behind Vincent’s car. “Get going, so I can pack.”
His hands fisted on the soft chiffon scarf around her neck that was almost as soft as her skin. The back of his knuckles lightly grazed her breasts. He forced himself not to increase the contact. “Would it destroy your image if I kissed you?”
Hands that weren’t quite steady circled his wrists. “I’m not sure, but I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
The kiss was long and hot, leaving her breathless. “I—I’ll call when I get back.”
“You better.” Releasing the scarf, he walked back to his car and drove away.
Vincent wasn’t in a very good mood by Tuesday afternoon. After Charlotte had gone, the weekend hadn’t been that much fun; since she was still gone, the week wasn’t shaping up much better. Tossing the papers on his desk, he got up and went to the office window, annoyed with Charlotte and himself.
He missed her.
Slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he sent an accusatory glance at the silent phone. When they’d talked last night, she’d said she’d call when she got back into town. She was returning on a private jet with a group of major political contributors. He’d bet, by the time the plane landed, Charlotte would have gotten the maximum contributions allowed.
She was a charmer. And he was enthralled by her. What was the matter with him? Women did not interfere with his work. Charlotte’s fault again. She simply got to him.
It was his conversation with her that had him trying to cut Ashley some slack. At least she had stopped being sick every day and finally confessed to being pregnant. But if her department figures weren’t on time in the future, he’d have to take a second hard look at the situation. But in the meantime, her performance was exemplary.
Vincent had run into her husband
and their little boy one day when they came to take Ashley to lunch. They had all looked happy. Perhaps it could work for some couples.
Pulling out his chair, Vincent sat down and picked up the financial report of a new natural gas discovery in Oklahoma. When Charlotte finally came home he wanted his work done so he could spend some time with her tonight. He had an early morning flight to Atlanta for a business meeting that could last through the rest of the week. If Charlotte was delayed, he might not see her until the weekend. The thought had him snarling at the papers in his hands.
Five minutes later he was up again, pacing in front of the window behind his desk. This was Charlotte’s fault. That’s what came of women having jobs that took them out of town for extended periods of time. If she had a regular job, she’d be in town and he wouldn’t be edgy and needy. They could have spent more than a handful of hours together so he wouldn’t feel like scum if he made love to her the way their bodies craved.
The intercom buzzed and he pounced on it. “Yes?”
“Vincent, Sidney called. You were supposed to meet him at the Racquet Club ten minutes ago. If you’re not there in ten minutes to play against the guy from CityCore, you lose by default. Sidney doesn’t like to lose without at least playing,” Millicent said.
Vincent’s mood went from irritated to feral. He had won the round-robin tournament for his company and was now being pitted against other company winners for the grand championship. The real winner would be the high school students who received college scholarships from the ten thousand dollars each company donated to participate. “Tell Sidney I’m on my way.”
Kevin Harris, Vincent’s opponent, never posed a real threat. Vincent came out of the box like a demon and never let up. Company employees and members of the Racquet Club gathered to watch. Both men were soaked with perspiration when Vincent hit the winning shot. Kevin swung valiantly for the speeding ball and ended up sprawled on the floor.
“Game!” shouted the referee.
Breathing hard, Vincent walked over to Kevin and extended his hand. “Good game.”