Chapter 2 #2
She waited until they had been served before continuing.
Food was not something that was appealing to her now, but to stop the argument about her not eating, she forced herself to pick at the burger.
She had left the bookstore in the capable hands of the part-time staff and made certain her dad had his noon medicine and something to eat.
She also had to stop herself from snapping at him when he asked where she was off to.
She was twenty-eight and he continued to treat her like a child.
What's more, she had a feeling he was comparing her to her mother and the trust was not there.
"It should be that easy."
Picking up her burger, Grace took a huge bite and spent a few minutes savoring the juiciness of the beef.
"He's ill."
"Is he?"
Kadian sent her a sharp look. "You know he is."
"I wonder."
Putting the burger down, she reached for a napkin and dabbed at her lips. "Honey, the man has bitterness entrenched in every pore of his body. He blames your mother for being unfaithful to him and he has no intention of letting it go."
"He's entitled--"
"Oh for crying out loud!"
Lowering her voice, Grace leaned forward, dark eyes spitting fire. "What happened, if it did happen, was years ago. He needs to let it go. He needs to let you go. Allow you to live your damn life."
Brushing back her razor straight black hair, she gave her friend a smoldering look. "He's playing on your emotions. You sacrificed your career for him--"
"I don't regret it. I met Leon."
"There's that."
The anger left her immediately. "But what about the rest? Have you ever brought up the topic of the Whitlocks with him?"
"I did, several times and he looked like he was going to have a heart attack. I have to leave it alone."
"In the meantime, you and your husband are suffering."
Pushing away her half-eaten burger, she picked up her water and took a fortifying sip.
She was in no position to be giving relationship advice.
She had been married twice and had recently divorced her cheating husband, kicking him out of her place.
She was bitter and disillusioned when it came to men but had seen the love between her friend and the man she had secretly married.
It gave her hope that one day she could meet someone who wasn't after her taking care of them and picking up the slack and the check.
Glancing at her watch, she gave a start. "I'm due in court in ten minutes."
"And I have a shipment coming in."
She drew out her card before Grace could. "And I'm meeting Leon later. I told dad that you had a crisis and I'm spending the weekend."
"How many crises can one woman have?" her friend mused. "No problem. You already know he's not going to call me."
"Just in case."
Rising, she came around and hugged her friend. "Thanks for being there for me."
"Always."
Grace hugged her back. "Talk tomorrow."
*****
He got there first and was already waiting.
He had brought dinner and a bottle of Chianti, her favorite.
His apartment would have been more accessible and more convenient, but it was in the middle of the business district with his father's place only a few blocks away.
The chances of them being discovered were too many.
So, they met at the cottage. A delightful pink and white brick building in the middle of nowhere.
They were isolated, with no fear of anyone seeing them.
It had belonged to his mother, and she had passed it on to him.
She had bought it on a whim, when they had come for a visit to the quaint little town.
It was in his name. And it was the perfect place for an assignation.
But this was not one, was it? He could not help the bitterness corroding his thoughts.
All throughout the day, he had stopped himself from calling her.
He knew what she would tell her dad and what arrangements she would put in place to ensure he had someone to see to his needs.
Twice a month, they would try and get away to be with each other and a few nights in between.
It wasn't enough, he thought angrily. He needed more.
He craved more. It galled and frightened him that he was contemplating getting her pregnant, deliberately getting rid of the protection so that they could start a family.
He was furious that he was so weakened by her.
The power she had over him was astonishing and he was not sure he liked it.
Tossing back the scotch, he watched narrowly as her vehicle stopped behind his. He would usually go out to meet her, take her overnight case, but this time he was not in a very charitable mood. And was dangerously close to losing it.
To issue an ultimatum. Go public or else?
Or else what? He greedily noticed the way the faded jeans cupped her derriere lovingly.
Her hair was loose, the golden tips shining in the light of the fading sun.
She turned then and saw him standing by the window and offered her quick smile.
His gut twisted, his knees went weak, and he felt his heart pounding. He was hungry for her.
Finishing the drink, he put the glass down and strode to open the door.
"Hi."
Her voice was soft and husky. He had once told her that she could seduce with just it.
"Hi."
His anger was forced back to be replaced by a desire so strong it was overwhelming.
Taking the case from her, he dropped it right at the door. Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her straight into the bedroom and went for the bed.
"My, you're impatient."
"We have so little time."
His words had her heart twisting in guilt. It was because of her that they were doing this, meeting like this and she could not bear it.
Wrapping her hands around his neck, she poured everything into the kiss.
Apology, need, guilt, craving. He accepted it all and was soon drunk from her taste.
Coming up for air, he took the time to smooth back her hair, brushing it back from her face and admired the flawless complexion.
She was exquisite. Her mahogany eyes dominated her small face.
Her lips were lush and slightly swollen from his kisses.
He cradled her, relishing the slender curves.
Very soon he would have her naked under him, but for now, he wanted to spend some time just looking at her.
"How was your day?"
He smiled at the age-old question that wives had asked their husbands for centuries. It gave him a feeling of normalcy as if they were an ordinary couple who had just come in from a full day of work and were relaxing and enjoying each other.
"Nothing much. The usual, wheeling and dealing with the board to get them to agree to giving the airline time to start earning its keep."
His touch lingered on her face, her cheek, the sides of her lips. "You?"
"We received a box of moldy first editions from a client's dad."
She touched him, admiring the tanned skin, the shape of his brow and the dent in his strong chin. She loved touching him, loved the fact that they could be here with each other – alone with each other and just block out everything else.
"First edition, huh?"
He kissed her eyes and her cheek before brushing his lips over hers.
"Hmm."
Wrapping her hands around his neck, she inhaled his quietly expensive cologne. She could recognize and identify his scent, and it was very arousing. Everything about him turned her on. "And there was a book signing in the afternoon. A local author – children's book. It was well received."
She brushed away the lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead.
"There was no problem of you not being around for the weekend?"
"No."
She did not want to talk about their parents.
She had every intention of it being about them only.
She was going to cook for him. She had made a list of things and would go into town and pick them up at the local market.
She was going to be his wife – his lover and his best friend and make this weekend count.
"You?"
"I had to shuffle a few things, but I managed to get it done."
"Good."
She wrapped herself around him and brought his head down.
The kiss smoldered, the heat sliding through them like silk.
His hands gripped her hair as if to anchor them.
She tasted like strawberries and cream and a mixture of honey.
Her taste was always on his tongue, long after he was forced to leave her.
The texture of her skin was achingly familiar to him.
He could remember it in his sleep. Her body was his to explore and he was intimate with every curve, every bit of her.
The mole on her inner left thigh – the graceful curve of her legs.
He knew her. She was his, wasn't she? And he wanted her more than he wanted to live. When he first met her at that gallery opening, it had been a shock to his system. He had made a beeline for her and was determined to have an introduction. It was only later that he realized who she was.
Now, it did not matter. Nothing else mattered except being here with her. He took her deeper, the kiss becoming more violent. Tongues met and explored. Sighs were swallowed and became moans. Needs escalated until they were clutching at each other.
He wanted her naked. He had meant to feed her first, to have a sit-down meal, with candles and the flowers he had picked up at the florist, but that was going to have to wait. Ending the kiss, he took a moment to steady himself, by pressing his forehead to hers and taking several deep breaths.
They remained that way for what seemed like ages, the quietness, the solitude rolling through them like a cloud.
Lifting his head, he gazed at her and felt his heart turning over, his body hardening.
She looked wanton, sexy and alluring. He had to force himself not to rip the shirt off her.
There was no need for haste or impatience.
They had the entire weekend, and she was his wife.
"Mrs. Leon Whitlock."
He murmured hoarsely, one hand cupping her cheek. "I have a need to say it out loud."
"My husband."
She whispered back, feeling the need shimmering inside her. He looked mussed and gorgeous, and he was hers. Her man, her husband. She ached for him in ways she could never explain. "I need you."
"You have me."
Bending his head, he seized her lips and spun them away into dizzy delight.