Chapter 6 #2
"The wedding cannot come soon enough, which reminds me.
" He had to take his mind off her delectable body pressing against his, and what he was about to say would certainly do the trick.
"Mother and Irene want to meet you for lunch to go over the menu and such.
" His eyes met hers squarely. "I'm fine with Irene, but my mother is toxic.
She insists on having her own way and I don't want her influencing your decision. "
She gave him a patient look as she brushed her fingers over his jaw that had suddenly tensed up.
"I think you should know by now that I'm not easily influenced by anything or anyone. I can handle your mother."
His hand gripped her wrist, expression intent.
"You think you can, but I can promise you that you've never met anyone like her.
She's vindictive and likes to get her own way.
She would have preferred someone from our society, the type of woman she can mold into her own image.
The fact that you're not is going to work against you.
She's going to try and discredit you every chance she gets.
I'm not going to allow anyone to hurt you. "
She smiled at him, feeling the warmth settling inside her.
She had become so accustomed to fending for herself, especially since her mother died, that having someone do so now felt strange. "And I appreciate that; you have no idea how much," she told him softly. "But I'll be fine, and in case it gets to the point where it's not, I'll call you."
"Promise?"
"I promise. Now kiss me goodbye."
"I'd better not." Tilting her chin up, he kissed her forehead and firmly put her aside before rising. As if sensing he was leaving, Galahad roused himself from his slumber and sprang up, making his way over to rub himself against Dean's hip.
"I think he likes you more than me now."
Dean grinned, leaning down to rub the thick fur. "That's because I buy him expensive treats. Dogs are so materialistic and fickle." He looked up at her. "Walk me out?"
Snapping her fingers at Galahad, she waited for the dog to detach himself from Dean's body before grabbing her jacket and heading for the door.
The moon was a big orb in a velvety blue sky when they got outside. Leaning on the door, Dean opened his thighs and pulled her between them, content to just stay that way, with his arms wrapped around her slender frame.
"Two weeks," he whispered, his chin on top of her head.
"I can't wait," she whispered into his chest.
"Can't you, my sweet?" His amused voice was tinged with tenderness and sent flutters throughout her body. Shifting, he tucked his thumb and forefinger under her chin to search her expression. "Any regrets?"
"None," she answered immediately.
"Good. Because the fleeting thought I had of letting go of you is now null and void. If you've changed your mind, know that I intend to hold you to your decision to stay."
"Noted." Her eyes danced as she gazed at him. "It just might be fun marrying someone so infamous."
He chuckled, amazed that she had this kind of effect on him.
She settled him, that is, when he was not going crazy with desire for her.
She had the kind of influence that managed to calm his restless soul.
He admired her and thought she was the sweetest, strongest and most honorable person he had ever met.
In his world, except for a few of his friends and acquaintances, words like love and lust were intermingled and used only to get ahead.
"I hope you think that after." His thumb caressed her bottom lip. His touch on her flesh sent heat fluttering inside her stomach.
His eyes darkened at the look on her face, and he felt an answering reaction to her desire.
"Catherine-"
"I love when you kiss me," she breathed. "I never told you that I'm an incurable romantic."
"No, you never did." His breathing was becoming unstable.
"I adore a good love story and have heaps of books about the conflicts and trials of love on my Kindle. Shakespeare is a particular favorite of mine, and of course Byron. I often dreamed about finding someone who could stir me to the point of no return. You're that one."
"Sweetheart-" He had to take a breath before he could continue.
"If your intention is to make things extremely hard for me, you've accomplished that goal.
" Wrapping his hand around her waist, he brought her flush against him to prove his point.
He was rigid. "You cannot say those things to me and expect me to be unaffected.
Or was that your plan? To get me hot and bothered and send me off to my empty apartment? "
"No." She lifted a hand to brush back a lock of lustrous blonde hair that had fallen over his forehead. "It's my plan to speak what's on my mind." Going on her toes, she brushed her lips against his. "And to feel your lips on mine."
With a groan, he dug his fingers into her clothing and hauled her up so he could taste her lips.
The kiss became frenzied. Her lips parted eagerly to give him complete access.
He plunged his tongue into her mouth and was soon drowning in the taste of her.
His hands roamed up and down her back restlessly before gripping her shapely buttock to bring her up against his rigid arousal.
Passion poured through them like molten lava.
Her hands gripped his broad shoulders as he started suggestively rotating his hips.
He kissed her again and again, his mouth plundering hers.
Nothing else mattered right now. Not the sound of Galahad barking or the fact that a light sprinkling of rain was falling from the sky.
They were both lost in a flood of desire so strong, it threatened their very sanity.
Somehow, he found the strength to wrench his mouth from hers, his breathing harsh and labored.
Clamping his hands on her shoulders, fingers biting into her flesh, he held her away for a minute as he struggled to control his breathing.
"It's raining," he noticed in abrupt surprise. "You should go in before I forget the promise I made to you and take you right here. Go in, Catherine."
She hadn't meant for the kiss to get so out of control but should have expected it.
She also knew they could not go on in this fashion.
Whirling out of his arms, she raced towards the front porch with Galahad hot on her heels.
The downpour came as soon as she slammed the door shut.
But he stood there for a few more seconds, welcoming the water on his face and hoping to God it would somehow cool his ardor enough for him to sleep tonight. He strongly doubted it.
*****
They had lunch at the Tea Room. It was an elegant and exclusive eatery in the uptown area and was owned and operated by a former opera star. The meals were overpriced and far from the best, but the ambience was a thing of beauty. Not to mention the fact that people were there to be seen.
Telling herself she was not dazzled by the famous faces and the lush green scenery with the backdrop of stunningly beautiful flowers, Catherine gripped her oversized purse and wished she had worn something other than light blue cotton pants and a pink and blue linen shirt.
But she had dressed with the class field trip in mind and thought they would be meeting at the manor.
Lifting her chin, she followed the ma?tre d' down a winding path, past several elegantly outfitted tables to where Isobel and Irene were seated beneath a striped canopy facing an exquisite fountain.
"Charles, we'll have the sparkling elderflower lemonade with the lobster bisque," Isobel told the man in her sultry voice.
The woman was dressed from head to toe in a stunning sarong type silk wrap that left her right shoulder bare.
Sapphires glittered at her throat and lobes and sparkled on her fingers.
Her blonde hair was in an elegant chignon at the nape of her neck.
Next to her, Irene looked like a tulip growing beside a hothouse rose.
"My dear, I hope you like seafood."
"I do, normally, but I'm going back to work." Catherine smiled at the man who was waiting to take their orders. "I'll have the grilled chicken sandwich. Thank you."
She was so busy seating herself when her chair was pulled out that she failed to notice the glimmer of displeasure on Isobel's face at her spurt of independence.
Irene was gratified by it and happy to see that the woman her brother was about to marry was not a pushover.
Good, she thought maliciously. They had arrived ahead of time because her mother liked to take charge of the situation and have the upper hand.
She had spent ten minutes having to listen to how foolish her decision was to leave a good man like Charles.
"In case you don't realize it, you're not getting any younger. And what nonsense is this about you wanting to work at the company? Your father and I are very displeased."
It had taken all of her will not to just get up and walk away. So it was gratifying to see someone standing up to her mother.
"Let's discuss the wedding," Isobel began briskly.
Reaching into her beaded purse, she drew out her iPod and turned it on.
"My son told us that you want to be married at your church.
" She glanced up at Catherine in the middle of checking her notes.
"You do realize you're marrying a Collier and what that entails, don't you? "
Taking a sip of her sparkling water, Catherine eyed the woman squarely.
"I've been a member of that church for years.
It's a familiar place and the people there are like family.
As you know, I don't have a biological family, so they're it.
I already explained that to your son and he's in complete agreement.
As the bride, it's my choice as to the location, and it remains. Now, shall we move on?"
Isobel bristled at the tone and the words, skin flushing slightly. "My dear, if this is your attitude-"
"No-" Catherine held up a hand. "I don't have an attitude.
Dean suggested we elope, just go to Vegas to avoid all of the drama, and I talked him out of it because I wanted to involve his family and my church family.
But that can easily be remedied." Her steely expression warned the woman not to push her.
After a few minutes of charged silence, during which their meals were served, Isobel reluctantly backed down.