by Francis Ray
She’d remember and so would he.
* * *
Brooke had considered leaving John in the dust when she pulled out of the parking lot. She didn’t because it would be too humiliating if he saw her getting pulled over by the cops. Besides, she was determined that he remain oblivious to the way he made her body hum. She glanced into the rearview mirror at the headlights of his truck. A truck.
Randolph owned two expensive sports cars and he’d never come close to making her feel anything close to what John did. She twisted uneasily in her seat. She would not let herself be interested in a man who couldn’t give her the lifestyle she had come to expect.
Pulling off, she took the next corner sharper than intended. Her gaze automatically went to the mirror again. John appeared to be the same distance from her. Irritated, she started to press a little harder on the accelerator. Then she thought of what she was doing and tried to settle down.
She turned another corner and was never so glad to see her condo. Easing up to the black iron gate, she spoke into the security box. “Hi, it’s Brooke and a guest.”
“Hello, Ms. Dunlap. Welcome home. Have a good night.” Laughter followed. The steel gate, twelve feet wide and eight feet high, started rolling from left to right.
She recognized the voice as Helen Williams, a divorced mother of two, who had a wicked sense of humor. “He’s coming right back out.”
“Can I have him, then?”
The flash of jealousy was totally unexpected. Helen always carried on foolishness with Brooke when she manned the booth by herself. “Be my guest.”
“Since I like living I’ll pass.”
Even more annoyed with herself, Brooke drove through and parked in her designated spot. She waited as John parked in the visitor’s area. She tapped the toe of her red and black Jimmy Choo impatiently. He was certainly taking his time. She was about to go on without him when he came around a parked car and started toward her.
Her heart thumped. Damn him. He had no right to look so good. Against her will she remembered them locked together in the back of the store. It had been a mistake then, and it was a mistake to let him near her now.
“Nice place.”
“Thank you. You’ve done your duty. Good night.”
“Claire said I was to see you home. That means your front door.”
Her chin came up. “You’re not getting inside.”
“I don’t remember asking.”
His chin begged for her fist. Whirling, she pushed the elevator button behind her. For once, it opened quickly and she stepped on, then punched four. She took a deep breath, then another to calm herself, then abruptly stopped when she realized she was breathing in his scent. Heat rolled through her.
The gleaming iron doors opened. Brooke stepped out, her key in her hand. Her condo was at the end of the hall, allowing her a spectacular view of the Ashley River and harbor at night from her bedroom. Which the irritating man beside her would never see.
Opening the door, she turned. “I’m home. Goodnight.”
“I probably shouldn’t care, but why don’t you like me?”
She didn’t need to be asked twice. “Because you’re rude and crude. Unlike those women tonight fawning over you, I have higher standards.”
“Like the penguin in the suit.”
It took Brooke a moment to figure out he meant Rafael, her uncle. “Yes. He knows how to make a woman happy.”
She saw her mistake the second after the challenging words left her mouth. John swooped in like an avenging angel. If he had been rough, his mouth not so inventive, she might have stood a chance of resisting. With a little whimper, her arms went around his neck.
Dimly, she realized he had picked her up, holding her easily against his hard length. His strength sent another thrill of pleasure surging through her, but not as much as his saying her name between heated kisses that threatened to fry her brain.
“I did it again. I’m sorry.” He lowered her until her feet touched the floor.
Brooke’s mouth was searching for his, her hands tugging his shirt from the waist of his pants when his words finally penetrated her brain. She froze, then stepped back with as much dignity as possible. She tugged up and pulled down her dress. At least they were inside her apartment with the door closed.
“I just wanted to talk. No, that’s not entirely true. I wanted to see if this would happen again,” he said with as much bewilderment in his voice as she felt. “I don’t even like you.”
Since she felt the same way about him, she wasn’t offended. “I don’t like you either.”
He nodded as if he expected as much. “How about grabbing a burger and a movie Saturday night?”
Randolph had flown her in a private jet to a movie premiere in Los Angeles. Afterwards they had been invited to the home of the producer. They’d been served a scrumptious buffet of smoked salmon, beluga caviar and champagne. “Pick me up at seven. I’ll let security know.”
“Goodnight, Brooke.”
“Goodnight, John.”
The door closed softly, and then it hit her. This was the first time they had called each other by their first names.
Damn!
* * *
Claire opened her front door and invited Gray inside. “Would you like coffee?”
“Just the usual.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her breathless.
“Thank you for coming tonight, inviting the reporter, your grandmother and aunt.”
His arm around her waist, they went to the sofa and sat down. “They would never have forgiven me if I hadn’t told them about the pre-opening.”
“It was a great idea.” She snuggled in his arms. “I can see why Livingston Catalogue is so successful. Your grandfather was right to pick you to run the company.”
The corners of Gray’s mouth lifted. “I think I won by default. My father loved teaching at Morehouse, and my aunt is more interested in shopping from a catalogue than trying to find merchandise to put in one.”
“What about your sister and your aunt’s three children?” she asked him.
“My younger sister found her career in publishing. My cousins found their niche in other avenues of business.” Absently he played one of her curls. “From the moment I stepped into the warehouse I was fascinated. I never wanted to do anything else. I have a feeling you’ve discovered your calling.”
She actually laughed. “I have to admit I enjoyed myself tonight … after the first scary moments, of course. More than I ever did while working at Middleton and Zexxis. It’s a good feeling knowing women enjoy the products I make, knowing that I could accomplish so much.”
“I knew you could do it. The bank deposit tonight proves it.”
“We did, didn’t we?”
“You did it.” He leaned over to kiss her cheek, but the little gasp she gave caused his eyes to go to her mouth. His mouth closed on hers. Her mouth softened beneath his as it always did. As if she’d waited a lifetime for the kiss.
He wanted to savor the moment, to savor her. He’d come to expect the quick rush of need, the uninhibited response of her body that drove him close to the edge of control. Her skin tasted like sweet cream. He inhaled the unique scent that clung to her and lured him. “You feel and taste so incredible.”
“It’s … it’s the beauty products.”
Gray took her mouth again. Claire was with him all the way. He was breathing heavily when he lifted his head. He stared at her kiss-swollen lips, the glazed passion in her eyes, and wanted very badly to take her to bed. “I better go.”
Claire didn’t want him to. “Can’t you stay a little longer?”
“Not without taking you to bed.”
“Then stay,” she said softly.
“Honey.” He pulled her into his lap and hugged her. “We’d probably already be in bed by now if I didn’t have to go out of town tomorrow for a few days.”
“Oh.” Her stomach rolled then settled.
His finger lifted her chin. �
��I want you, Claire, but I can’t make any promises of forever. Can you handle that?”
She felt the proof of his desire beneath her hips. The dreamer in her wanted him to love her forever just as she knew she would always love him. Her practical side accepted that it might never be. She could have his body, but perhaps never his heart. The idea hurt more than she thought she could bear.
Was she that bold or that stupid to even consider being intimate with a man when she knew it could lead to nothing except misery. She had wanted a family. If she let Gray go, would she find another man to love? A man who made her heart soar and ache at the same time? She looked into his face and realized the decision had been made long ago.
“I’m not asking for forever.”
Gray’s eyes closed and he pulled her to him. “You should, but I’m bastard enough to take you any way I can get you.” His mouth found hers in a boldly erotic kiss that spoke more loudly than words that she would be missed as well. “I’ll call.”
Her smile was tremulous. “Take care.”
With one last touch of her cheek, he was gone. Claire pulled her legs beneath her and leaned her cheek against the back of the sofa, missing Gray already.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Lorraine and Brooke pulled up in front of Claire’s house at the same time. Worried about both of them, Claire had been watching out the front window. She was on the wide porch when they emerged from their cars, a copy of the newspaper in her hands with the article of Bliss and their picture on the front page. Lorraine and Brooke emerged with their own newspapers. Lorraine had a pleased smile on her face; Brooke’s was contemplative.
Claire didn’t have to guess. “What happened with John?”
Brooke sighed. “I should be walking on air that we made the paper. My family probably bought every copy they could get their hands on. Bliss is bound to reap the benefit.”
“But,” Lorraine prompted.
“You’ll never believe it. I can’t believe it myself,” Brooke told them.
“Let’s go inside,” Claire said, explaining to Lorraine about John taking Brooke home as they went inside. Folding tables lined with newspapers and topped with bottles and jars and molds were already set up in the family room. She handed each one a cup of coffee and picked up her own.
“I might as well spill it, so you can both tell me how stupid this is.” Brooke set her coffee aside without tasting it. “We have a date tomorrow night for burgers and a movie.”
“They must have been at each other again,” Lorraine said with a straight face.
“That would be my take on it,” Claire added.
Brooke bit her lip, appearing miserable. “He kisses me and I lose it.”
“Speaking from personal experience, that’s the way it’s supposed to be,” Claire said.
Brooke’s and Lorraine’s mouths gaped.
Claire couldn’t keep the smug grin off her face. “I think you’re right about BTS, but it’s obvious only certain men have that ability. Isn’t it fortunate that we’ve found three men that do.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Lorraine lifted her cup.
Brooke snatched hers up. “Me, too.”
“Me three.” The cups clinked.
* * *
Brooke had been on more dates than she could remember, she thought as she went through her closet of designer clothes Friday afternoon. She’d made a habit of always choosing what she planned to wear the day before. There was nothing more irritating than wanting to wear a certain outfit and then finding out it was in the cleaners or needed to go there.
She’d been popular with boys since she was in kindergarten. Being the only child of the oldest son of five boys brought her into a home where there’d always been strong arms to soothe away the hurt, take her anyplace she wanted to go, and spoil her shamelessly. She’d grown up with the attitude that she could wrap men around her little finger. She tossed a blue floral skirt on her king-sized four-poster.
She’d been voted Homecoming Queen her freshman year in high school and had regained the honor her senior year. She had respectfully declined the nomination her sophomore and junior years because she had wanted something to look forward to. The statement hadn’t endeared her to a lot of the girls at her high school, but Brooke hadn’t minded. As she’d told Gray, she didn’t have many female friends.
She couldn’t help it if she was beautiful, had a certain way with men, and a brain. She’d learned early that charm and a hint of vulnerability went a long way in getting a woman what she wanted. Southern women had it like that … if they knew how to use it. And she did.
Randolph’s defection was still a sore point and she definitely planned to make him regret his decision, but in the meantime it was rather gratifying to know she hadn’t lost her touch. John couldn’t keep his eyes or his hands off her.
She made a face. That she was the same way with him annoyed her to no end. Perhaps all the changes in her life had caused some kind of hormonal imbalance or shift in her brain wave patterns. Even as the thought came to her, she dismissed it as idiotic. Two chiffon blouses joined the skirt.
It was pure old-fashioned lust. She hadn’t decided if she’d feed it or try to control it. She tossed a pair of linen slacks on the bed just as the phone rang. She wasn’t sure what type of eatery John planned to take her to for hamburgers. She didn’t want to be too dressy. Linen or cotton, skirt or pants, slides or heeled sandals?
Her mind on her wardrobe, she picked up the phone with one hand and fingered the sheer ruffled hem of an ankle-length black skirt with the other. “Hello.”
“Hello, Brooke.”
Her heart leaped at the sound of John’s voice. Steady girl. “Hello, John.” Why did just saying his name make her heart beat faster?
“I got your phone number from Claire.”
He sounded tired or upset. She could think of only one reason. “Are Amy and Mark all right?”
“Yeah, thanks for asking. But there’s a problem.”
Apparently John was the type of man who had to work his way up to the point in a conversation. Brooke sat on the bed and tried to be patient. “Oh?”
A weary sigh came through the line. “We have this big calendar in the kitchen where I keep all the kids assignments and activities so I can keep track of them. I don’t know how I missed it.”
“What is it?”
“Mark’s Cub Scout troop is going on a field trip tomorrow to the Children’s Museum in Columbia, then to Saluda Shoals Park in the afternoon. I promised to chaperone. We won’t get back until after ten that night. I have to cancel.”
Brooke sprang to her feet. “You’re standing me up?” No one had ever stood her up.
“I’m not standing you up, Brooke. They’re going canoeing and fishing. I’d want to be there even if I hadn’t promised Mark.”
Brooke had spent a lot of fun-filled days at the 270-acre park. She’d even gone on dates to the amphitheater in high school. “Of course. You promised.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye.”
“Bye.” Brooke replaced the receiver, then glanced at all the clothes she’d tossed on the bed. She felt foolish. She’d left the shop early, splurged on a manicure and pedicure, all for a man who … who loved his children.
Picking up the clothes, she returned them to her closet. It was for the best. They had nothing in common and she never dated men who couldn’t give her not only the lifestyle she wanted, but also their undivided attention.
She closed the closet door with a snap. She was glad he canceled.
The phone rang again and she snapped her head around, making a mockery of her earlier thoughts. Recognizing the number on the caller ID, she smiled and picked up the receiver. “Hi, Rafael.”
“Hi, Brooke. You doing all right?”
She plopped down on the bed. “I was until my date for tomorrow night canceled.”
“His loved ones will mourn him.”
She laughed, falling back on the bed and staring up at
the chandelier in the recessed ceiling. Rafael was the youngest of her father’s four brothers and, at thirty, closer to her in age and temperament. He could always make her laugh. They’d always been close friends. “Perhaps he should live. He has two adorable little children.”
“Not your usual style,” he commented.
“I forgot that until he called to cancel. I won’t forget again,” she said with determination, then changed the subject. “Thanks again for coming up for the pre-opening. We practically sold out of products, especially the BTS ones.”
“That’s the reason for my call. Simon and Marc called me this morning to say they were concerned about your advertising claim,” he said. “They didn’t want to be put in a position of arresting their niece for fraud.”
She sat up. All the Dunlap men, including her father, were policemen. And women adored them. “They’ve test-marketed it already?”
“They had concerns, and that’s all I’m saying.”
And they all had a difficult time talking to her about sex. “We’ve already figured out that it doesn’t apply to all men.”
“What do you mean, ‘We.’” The snap of disapproval in his voice had her scrambling to explain.
“Lorraine, the married partner,” she emphasized. “She already told us that.”
“Ah.” He sounded relieved and so was Brooke. “Then why keep promoting the product that way?”
“Because all women aren’t fortunate enough to have found a man who can rival the product. Some women don’t want to find one. Then there are the ones who’ve enjoyed the side benefits of their man proving the product wrong,” she explained.
He chuckled. “Simon and Marc certainly did. I mean—”
“I know exactly what you meant,” she said, trying to hold back laughter. “You want me to send more?”
He snorted. “You always did have a smart mouth, and I was about to drive up and take you out to dinner.”
Myrtle Beach was an hour and a half away. “I’m fine. Besides I don’t want to be the cause of another woman being stood up.” Rafael always had some woman waiting in the wings.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
