“Is there anything else I can get for you?” the young waitress inquired.
“No, thank you, sweetheart,” the senator said, never inquiring if his dinner companions were content with their meals.
Helen’s foot inched up the inside of Henry’s pant leg. “If you can assure me that your company will uphold Newport’s tranquil, historic atmosphere then I will be more than happy to recommend your proposal.”
The senator took a bite of his meat and chewed it greedily. “I trust Helen’s judgment implicitly,” he said, his words muffled through a mouthful of food.
A sly smile crossed Helen’s lips. “Although I’m not the deciding factor in the approval, I will have incredible influence in recommending your proposed land deal at the town council meeting. The patrons of the Newport Ladies’ Refurbishment Society respect my judgment.”
“Let me assure you both, months of research and careful planning were conducted before the blueprints were prepared,” Henry said confidently.
“So much more than a handsome face.” Helen winked.
Henry swallowed a piece of the half-chewed raw meat, the wretched lump of meat lodging in his throat. He downed his glass of water, eager to rid his mouth of its ghastly flavor, and questioned how much more of this dreadful evening he could endure while tuning out the senator’s condescending bullshit along with the oversexed middle-aged woman’s advances.
Victoria
Jennifer’s eyes dazzled with childish delight. “It never disappoints,” she said, her eyes darting around the festive restaurant.
“It’s breathtaking, as usual,” Victoria said and slid into the booth. “Do you think they’ll have the rum raisin bread pudding?”
“God help them if they don’t.”
“Stop. You make me sound like an ogre.” Victoria giggled, relaxing a bit when Jennifer smiled.
“Should we live on the wild side?” Jennifer asked.
Victoria cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Are we going to break tradition and order something other than the fried fisherman’s platter with garlic mashed potatoes and butternut squash on the side? I mean this is our yearly pilgrimage to Seacoast Restaurant. Maybe we should mix it up and try something new.”
“Nah,” they each said in unison, their lips quirking up into crooked smiles.
Jennifer’s brow furrowed, her expression suddenly stoic. “Know what I wish?”
Victoria released a long sigh. She should’ve known their gaiety was too good to be true. “Does it have something to do with Henrique Santana?” she asked, deciding there was no point in delaying the awkward conversation.
Mouth set firmly, Jennifer’s words were laced with hostility. “I wish that he and his shitty company never existed.”
Victoria tugged on the edge of her sleeves, securing them to her wrists, and willed herself to bite her tongue. If she wanted to alleviate the tension between them, she’d need to listen to Jennifer’s thoughts. Regardless of how much the conversation sucked or how uncomfortable it got, she’d promised to hear Jennifer out.
“We have finally established ourselves. Our store is flourishing, and we’ve paid off all of our debts. And now, instead of enjoying the fruits of our labor, we’re sitting ducks,” Jennifer said.
“I have faith that things will change. Miracles do happen, Jenn,” Victoria said softly.
“Not if you think Henrique Santana will be your savior. Let me remind you, in case you’ve forgotten, it’s his company that’s bound and determined to destroy us with their construction project.”
“Don’t speak to me as if I were a child.”
“Stop acting like one,” Jennifer spat just as the waitress arrived to take their order.
Tension radiated from both of them as the waitress quickly scribbled their order on her notepad, her unease apparent as Jennifer glared across the table at Victoria.
Eyes averted, Victoria fidgeted with a thread hanging at the edge of one cuff. “I don’t believe he is as awful as you think,” she dared to say once the waitress had left.
A disgruntled sound spewed from Jennifer’s lips. “For God’s sake, Vicki, the whole reason Henrique Santana is even in Newport is to secure a multibillion-dollar land deal. You’re simply an amusement to him.”
“Lower your voice. Everyone can hear you,” Victoria hissed through gritted teeth. No matter what Jennifer said about Henry, she’d not allow her friend to tarnish the memories of that glorious night. She didn’t—couldn’t—believe Henry had used her. He was too attentive to her needs, too vulnerable with his secrets for her to have only been a meaningless fuck.
“I’m sorry that I’ve disappointed you. My home and our business are my main priority. My indiscretion with Henry should never have happened, and I guarantee that anything sexual between us is over,” Victoria added.
Jennifer’s angry expression softened into one of pity.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Victoria asked defensively.
“Because I know you want to believe that. But I’m afraid that in your heart—” sadness crept into Jennifer’s voice—“you’re already gone.”
Thankful for the waitress’s arrival with their meals, Victoria placed a forkful of potatoes into her mouth. She didn’t want to speak to Jennifer’s accusation, because it was true. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Victoria had developed feelings for Henry.
They ate in silence, each of them lost in their own worlds.
Only a few crumbs remained on Jennifer’s plate when she lay her fork down. She reached across the table and captured Victoria’s free hand in hers. “For what it’s worth, I hate this tension between us.”
“I do, too,” Victoria said, looking up from her barely eaten plate of food.
“I trust you with my life, Vicki. You’ve given me your word that you’ll have nothing more to do with Henrique Santana, and I choose to believe you.”
A lump formed in Victoria’s throat as she nodded wordlessly. Thank God. If Jennifer abandoned their friendship, Victoria didn’t know what she’d do without her. Jennifer was the one person who formed her family. After all they’d been through, Victoria refused to allow her attraction to Henrique Santana override her common sense. She had too much to lose.
Jennifer eyed Victoria’s plate. “Sometimes, I hate you.”
“What?” Victoria gasped, thinking they’d just reconciled their differences.
“When you’re stressed, you don’t eat.” Jennifer shook her head, her face scrunching up in disgust. “Me. I fucking eat like a pig.”
The waitress approached them as they both broke out laughing. Confusion etched her brow as she offered to wrap up Victoria’s leftovers into a doggie bag. Poor thing didn’t seem to know how to respond. Victoria and Jennifer had gone from strained silence to raucous laughter.
“Um...ready to get the heck out of here?” Jennifer asked, slapping money onto the tabletop.
Victoria cocked a brow. “Are you avoiding another one of your past boy toys?”
Jennifer snatched the Styrofoam container from the table and clutched it to her chest. “Not one worth talking about.”
“Give me a minute, Jenn. I want to double-check the tip. I’d hate to short the waitress. Especially at Christmas,” Victoria said, picking the cash up off the table to recount it.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” Jennifer rattled the container. “Be quick about it. Someone is bound to be waiting to sit here.”
“I swear, Jenn, you have a beef with half of Newport. You can’t always dart out of places trying to avoid people.” Victoria sighed when she realized she’d been sputtering to herself.
Jennifer was already at the coatrack by the time Victoria slid out of the wooden booth. Her stomach roiled as her eyes landed on the trio seated in the adjacent dining area. Placing her hand on her stomach, she could barely breathe as she witnessed Henry lower his mouth to Helen’s ear, no doubt seducing the poor unsuspecting woman with an indecent proposal. Hastily, she
whirled around, oblivious to the waiter who moved behind her. She collided with him; the oversized tray balanced above his shoulder went crashing to the floor. The sound of clanging silverware and broken glass resounded throughout the restaurant. From the corner of her eye, she saw Henry approaching in her direction. Red-faced, she stomped over the contents of hot, steaming entrees that had splattered onto the floor, and bolted from the room.
Chapter 20
Henry
Henry marched up to the colonial home, determined to set things right with Victoria. With the shades drawn, the house was in total darkness. He placed his finger onto the doorbell, pressing down firmly, and waited.
Nothing—not even a peep.
Victoria had to be in there. Didn’t she? A pang of jealousy tore through him at the idea of her accepting a date with another man. He rubbed his ice-cold hands together before shoving them back into his coat pockets and then shifted his weight from foot to foot, a chill seeping deep into his bones.
Peering over his shoulder, he squinted into the darkness. The last thing he needed was for a well-meaning neighbor to call the police. Confident that no one watched, Henry picked up the door knocker, bringing it down solidly against the wooden door.
More silence.
Henry swore under his breath. Aggressively, he rapped the door knocker against the wooden barrier for a second time. The wind battered against his back, billowing into the opening around his coat’s neckline. Henry lifted its collar and buttoned it tight around his neck.
Why did the woman have to be so damn stubborn? Hand fisted, he pounded on the door. “Open the door, Victoria. We need to talk,” he bellowed. Damn the woman! If he remained on her doorstep much longer, he was bound to freeze to death.
Suddenly, he heard a low rustling sound come from behind the door. He held his breath, listening to what sounded like the shuffle of feet. A chain rattled followed by a shrill squeak. The door ajar, Victoria peeked through its slight crack. “Go away,” she commanded.
“It’s five bloody degrees out here,” he hissed.
“And your point is?”
Henry’s mouth dropped at her heartlessness. “I’d like to have a civilized conversation with you. Preferably, inside where it’s warm. I’d rather not die of hypothermia while I explain what happened. Also, I’d like to speak to more than the one side of your face that isn’t hidden behind the door.”
Nose pressed to the door, Victoria narrowed an eye on him. “Well, that’s your problem not mine. I’m sure Ms. Carrington would be more than happy to keep you warm.”
“Don’t be jealous,” Henry said, more than a little pleased to know she’d been perturbed about seeing him with Helen.
An unladylike snort released from her throat. “Go home,” Victoria said and slammed the door.
Henry ripped his hands from his coat pockets and pounded on the door. “I’m warning you, Victoria. I’m not leaving until you open this door. You can’t avoid me forever.”
“It won’t be my fault if you freeze to death,” her high-pitch voice shrieked from the other side of the door.
“You asked for this.” Henry balled each of his hands into a fist, slamming them repeatedly against the door.
Abruptly, the door swung open. Thrown off balance, Henry careened through the open doorway and into the living room.
“Are you dense? I told you that I don’t want to talk to you,” Victoria spat, her hands clenched at her sides.
Regaining his balance, he turned toward her and gaped. She was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Nipples puckered beneath a full-length satin nightgown, they taunted him with their divine peaks. Long, golden hair flowed loosely down her back, a few stray curls lying over one of the thin straps that graced her shoulders. Her hazel eyes, an intriguing shade of olive green sprinkled with amber flecks, blazed with fury.
“What are you thinking about answering the door dressed like that?” Henry snatched the neatly folded blanket from the recliner and forced it around Victoria’s shoulders. “Do you have a death wish? It’s freezing out there.”
“How dare you come to my home unannounced and act like some sort of Neanderthal?” Victoria threw her head back, her chin jutted forward in defiance. “I’d just settled into my bed when I was rudely interrupted by your brutishness.”
Henry shrugged out of his coat, placed it neatly on the arm of a recliner, and then took the liberty of sinking onto one of the couch’s plush cushions.
“Hey, don’t get too comfortable. I didn’t invite you in.” Victoria scooped his coat up and threw it at him.
Heedless of her anger, Henry patted the vacant cushion beside him. “I thought we were going to have a heart-to-heart. It would be so much more enjoyable if we were both comfortable, but if you wish to remain standing, that’s your prerogative.”
“You...you...heathen,” Victoria spat. “You’re crazy if you think I am interested in hearing anything you could possibly have to say.”
I could get drunk on her beauty.
She pulled the woolen blanket tighter to her chest, the slight quiver in her voice betraying her nervousness. “Stop looking at me like that,” she demanded.
“I can’t,” Henry answered truthfully. “You steal my breath away every time I look at you.”
She blushed, her porcelain skin appearing to have been kissed in crimson.
His voice was lower now, huskier. “When you’re near, my heart nearly thumps out of my chest. My cock hardens, aching with a need only you can fill.” Henry rose from the couch and prowled toward her. “I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t sleep. And it’s all because of you.” Towering over her, he ran a fingertip over her plump bottom lip. “How do you do it?” Henry asked incredulously.
Victoria stared up at him, her eyes wide as if in wonder.
“You’ve no idea how you make me feel,” Henry rasped. “Do you?”
She shook her head slowly.
“You make me feel like a boy,” he said and moved his fingers to a curl that lay over her shoulder, rolling it between his fingertips. “Horny as hell. Awkward and unsure as if I were a virgin.” His lips curved into a wistful smile. “You give me a million reasons to dare to believe I might have a second chance at happiness.”
Victoria averted her gaze from his.
“Don’t turn away from me,” Henry said and cupped her chin, gently forcing her to look up at him. Tenderly, he stroked her cheek. “You have no idea what a temptress you are.”
“Stop,” Victoria said, placing her palm over his broad chest. His pulse thrummed beneath her splayed fingers, his virility evidenced beneath her touch. “Don’t say things like that. You shouldn’t look at me like you do. Or touch me in a way that makes me feel like I’m—” Suddenly, she stopped speaking and stepped from his embrace. Her nightgown flowed around her as she moved across the floor. One hand clenched the edges of the blanket to her chest, while her other covered her lips as if they’d been burned by what she was about to confess.
“Like you’re what?” he asked eagerly.
Indecision reflected in her eyes as she studied him.
In two long strides Henry reached her. “Tell me,” he asked, unable to disguise the desperation filling his request.
“Henry—” Victoria whispered, her voice laced with fragility.
Closing his eyes, Henry took a deep breath. “Please,” he pleaded.
The word rushed from her lips on a single breath: “Desirable.”
Henry’s hand flew to the base of her neck, his fingers plunging into the thick mass of golden hair. Fisting it between his fingers, he pulled gently to force Victoria’s neck to arch. He slammed his mouth down over hers, his dick instantly growing hard.
Groaning, Victoria reached up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Satisfaction washed over him as the blanket immediately dropped into a heap at her feet. Snaking his arms around Victoria’s back, he crushed her to his chest and hoisted her from the floor. “Wrap your legs around me,” h
e panted, breaking the kiss.
She clung to him as she complied to his demand. “Don’t stop kissing me,” she commanded, her lips capturing his. Wildly, their tongues lashed in and out, swirling in frenzied lust.
Cupping Victoria’s ass securely within his palms, he carried her across the room and lowered her onto the couch. She squirmed in anticipation, his cock twitching beneath the confines of his pants as he adjusted her squarely onto his lap and then reclined back.
Victoria worried her plump bottom lip between her teeth. “I’ve never done this before—on top, I mean,” she said softly as his fingers ran up and down each of the legs positioned next to each side of his.
“I’ll teach you,” he answered and brushed his lips to hers. His palms glided down the underside of each breast, moving lower to trace his fingertips over her hips. He fisted the silky satin and hiked the rippling material up to her waist.
Her lips slightly parted, she moaned, lolling her neck to the side. Henry’s attention turned to the delicate flesh beneath her ear, brushing kisses over the soft skin. Slipping a finger beneath the nightgown’s thin strap, he shoved it from her shoulder and beneath one breast.
Fingers splayed, Victoria snaked her arms over his shoulders. “Touch me,” she breathed. Instantly, his tongue flicked out, licking and sucking her nipple.
A golden halo sheathed his face as she lay her head to his, her hair blanketing him. He ripped the fabric from her other breast, exposing it to his artful ministration, and thrust his groin against her womanhood.
“Henry—” she groaned. “I’m so wet.”
“Goldilocks,” Henry rasped. “I want you dripping for me.”
“Please—I need to be touched,” she cried and ripped her arms from Henry’s shoulders. Hastily, she fisted each side of her satin nightgown between her fingers, pulling it to her waist and then over her head, discarding it onto the floor. She moved her hand down to her mound. “Oh...God,” she moaned as her finger circled over her clit, her neck arching back as she touched herself.
“Fuck me,” Henry hissed.
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