by Francis Ray
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The black limousine was waiting at Claire’s house as instructed. Gray pulled up behind her car and got out. He got a kick out of the wide-eyed look on her face when she came out of the garage. “Who is he waiting on?” she said.
“Us.”
Her head whipped back around. “Us?”
He kissed her on the lips. He couldn’t help it. “We’re going someplace special, but casual, to celebrate.”
Her eyes lit up. “Where?”
“It’s a surprise.” He turned her toward the house. “You might want to change into tennis shoes. I’ll give you ten minutes since I grew up in a house full of women. Bring a scarf and a light jacket.”
She grinned at him over her shoulder as she opened the front door. “We’re going to have a picnic on the beach, right?”
“You’ll find out.”
“I don’t suppose you’re worried about the forecast for rain. But what about the way you’re dressed?”
The silk tie and tailored coat came off. He unbuttoned the first four buttons on his blue cotton shirt. Armani was supposed to take you anywhere. “Any other questions?”
Laughing, Claire went inside to her bedroom, unbuttoning her blouse as she went. She didn’t know what Gray had planned but if this was to be their first night together she wasn’t wearing cotton. Opening a drawer, she pulled out the black demi-bra and panties she’d bought a week ago.
Going into the bathroom, she took a quick bath, then applied the perfumed moisturizing cream, a mixture of the sensual fragrance of jasmine and orange blossoms that her mother had named “C” for her. Finished, she slipped on the lingerie she hoped Gray would have a chance to take off her. Laughing at her thoughts, she pulled on a ribbed black knit top and clam diggers. At the mirror, she quickly reapplied her makeup the way Brooke had taught her, put a scarf in a canvas tote bag she’d already dumped the contents of her purse into, grabbed her windbreaker, and was back out the door.
“How did I do for time?” she asked.
“You could give the women in my family lessons.” Gray kissed her, then opened the door of the limo.
She gasped when she saw the huge bouquet of long-stemmed yellow roses on the seat. “Thank you!”
“My pleasure. Now let’s get this celebration on the road.” He climbed in beside her. As they pulled off he opened a bottle of champagne, filled two glasses, then handed one to her. “To the continued success of Bliss.”
The bubbles tickled her nose. “This tastes wonderful.” She took another sip.
“Don’t drink too much,” he warned, easing an arm around her shoulder. “From the looks of the crowd at the shop when I arrived, you probably didn’t have a chance to eat lunch.”
She relaxed against him. Over the speaker she heard the wail of a sax. “We only got to eat a couple of bites of the finger sandwiches Lorraine prepared.”
“Good thing I thought that might happen.”
She leaned up. “Picnic under the stars, right?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
* * *
Claire knew her mouth was hanging open. She snapped it shut.
“Under the stars, just as you said.”
Claire’s eyes filled. In front of her was a table for two on the deck of Gray’s yacht, Destiny. The twin flames from the candles flickered in the evening breeze. In the center was a lotus bowl filled with yellow roses. Two white-coated waiters stood nearby. “Gray, it’s beautiful, and much more than I could have imagined!”
“Good. We’ll have our picnic next time.” He guided her to a seat and sat across from her. Immediately their wine glasses were filled.
“I’d like to make a toast.” Claire picked up her glass.
Gray followed suit, his mouth already curving into an indulgent smile.
“To a night to remember.”
Something flickered across his face as he repeated the toast, then drank. “I’ll do my best.”
He signaled the waiters and they began serving. Claire caught the strains of a violin, then saw a lone violinist above them on the bow of the yacht. Her hands went to her face again. Tears sparkled in her eyes. She’d never imagined that she’d feel so special, or that Gray would be the one to make her feel that way.
“The chef is going to be very disappointed if you don’t eat,” he teased.
She picked up her fork. “It’s hard to tell you how much this means to me.”
“There’s more to come.”
As the scrumptious five-course meal was served, Claire realized just how much he had spoken the truth. The food, from escargot to black sea bass, was delicious. Every now and then thunder would rumble.
“It can’t rain,” she said, staring overhead as lightning forked in the distance.
Getting up, Gray pulled her to her feet. The violin was replaced by the music of a full orchestra. “Let’s make the most of the evening in case it does.”
She looked around him as he pulled her into his arms. She saw no one. Even the violinist was gone. Even now the waiters were quickly rolling the table and serving cart away. They were alone.
“What are you looking for?”
“To see where the music is coming from.” He tucked her into his arms and her eyes drifted shut. “On second thought, it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re good for my ego,” he murmured against her hair.
She smiled, then lifted her head. “You’re good for mine. With you I feel as if I can do anything.”
He stared down into her upturned face and they both came to a stop. His mouth slowly descended to hers and the heavens opened up.
Both yelped as the deluge of rain peppered them. “Come on.”
Catching Claire’s hand Gray ran down the side of the yacht, then downstairs. Claire was laughing all the way. She got a fleeting glimpse of opulence and luxury. Gray opened a door and they were inside a cabin.
Claire pushed her dripping hair out of her face. The cabin was beautiful, with honeyed wood paneling, brass fittings and a large bed. “It’s fantastic. Is this the guest bedroom?”
“It’s mine.”
Claire went very still, but her eyes were drawn back to the large bed with the midnight black covers turned down and a yellow rose on the pillow. She gulped.
“The guest bedroom is two doors down. I’ll take you.” Gray reached for the door.
“What if I’m where I want to be?”
He tenderly palmed her face and looked deeply into her eyes. “Then this will be one night I won’t take a cold shower.”
Claire swallowed. In his eyes she saw the passion that excited her and made her relax. This was Gray. He would take care of her. Her arms lifted to slide around his neck. “The rain was cold.”
He pulled her to him, letting her feel the unmistakable proof of his desire. “Not cold enough.”
She shivered.
“You should get out of those wet clothes.”
She laughed at that. He joined in. Then as they stared at each other the laughter stopped. His large hand swept the hair from her face. “I want you.”
“Then take me.”
He caught her against his hard body. His mouth took its time to relearn the essence and pleasure of hers. Her top came off and he gasped softly.
“You’re beautiful.”
She thanked her foresight in wearing the lingerie, then her thoughts scattered as his thumb and fingers closed over first one nipple then the other. Both hardened even more.
“Your body is so responsive.”
“Only with you.”
An unfathomable emotion flashed in Gray’s eyes, then he picked her up and carried her to the side of the bed. He stooped to pull down her soggy pants, and kissed the inside of her thigh. Claire’s legs quivered and she sank down on the bed.
“Perfect.” He removed her shoes, then came to his feet and shoved off his pants.
She swallowed. Gray wearing nothing but a pair of snug black briefs was an awesome sight. “We’ll
get the bed wet.”
“It’ll dry.” He stripped off the briefs and lay down on the bed, drawing her to him. He took his time playing, nibbling, until she was trying to pull him closer to deepen the kiss.
“We have all night.”
“But I want to kiss you now.” She grabbed him around the neck and took the kiss she wanted.
His mouth moved to her breast and suckled gently through the thin material. She moaned, her legs moving restlessly. Gray’s hand swept down her body and cupped her. She was damp and hot. One finger slipped inside.
Claire whimpered and lifted her hips off the bed. Pleasure swirled through her. She wanted Gray to feel the same way. Her hand sought him. He was hot and hard, the length of him awesome. She snatched her hand back.
Gray lifted his head and stared into her wide eyes. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” With my heart, with my life, she added silently.
“Change your mind?”
“No.”
“You may have saved my life,” he said. “Close your eyes and just feel.”
Her eyelids fluttered closed. There was the barest touch on her cheek. The sensations continued growing in pressure and strength over her body until she was completely relaxed.
“Open your eyes.”
Her lashes fluttered upward as he slowly filled her, stretched her. Claimed her. Her hands clasped him around the neck. With each measured stroke the pain lessened and the pleasure built.
Her hips lifted to meet his before she was aware of it. Sensations spiraled through her, building like a storm cloud. Like the clouds, she was powerless to resist, although she tried.
“Trust me, Claire. Come with me.”
Resistance fled. Her legs tightened around his waist and she let her body go free, reaching for the sun, knowing Gray would be with her.
Completion came, and it was like soaring over the edge of a mountain.
Gray had just enough presence of mind to roll and tuck her against him. “You all right?”
When she didn’t say anything after a moment, he lifted her chin and his heart stopped. Tears were in her eyes.
“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” He pulled her to him, his mind trying to think of way to ease the pain he’d caused her.
“I’d fantasized, but I never dreamed it could be so absolutely beautiful and wonderful,” Claire murmured.
“What?” Gray tilted her face to his. “I didn’t hurt you?”
She shook her head. “How could you think that?”
“Because, despite my reassurance to you earlier, I was scared spitless that I’d mess this up for you.” His voice softened. “I couldn’t have stood that.”
“You can put your mind at ease on that count. But I seem to remember we toasted to a night to remember.” She looked out the porthole at the darkened sky, then back at him. “Morning is a long way off.”
* * *
Thousands of miles away in a chateau in the south of France, Jana Louise Carpenter Livingston Murphy Franklin stared at a picture of Gray in a newspaper. He was embracing two women while a third stood close by. Her latest lover, a wealthy financier, was asleep and sated in a bed big enough for seven people. Until an hour ago there had been five people in it.
Jana’s lips curled at the man’s loud snores. In the morning he was taking his private jet back to London. She hadn’t decided if she would join him. He was becoming clingy and boring. Perhaps it was time to move on to her next conquest. There was always another gullible fool out there. But first there was a more pressing matter that demanded her attention.
Jana’s attention switched back to the newspaper she’d received earlier that day by special courier. She dismissed the women in the photo after only a momentary glance. They were no match for her in beauty or sensuality. It was Gray, his handsome face, the easy smile she never wanted to see again, that held her entire attention.
He was happy.
Rage surged through her. With jerky, agitated motions, she shredded the newspaper. After what he’d done to her she’d sworn he’d never be happy again. No man would ever get the best of her or forget her.
Perhaps he needed another reminder.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
John walked out of the emergency room with Amy asleep in his arms at 2:14 Sunday morning. The mind-numbing terror that had gripped him when his mother first called was gone. He’d seen the X-rays, talked to the doctors. They assured him that there had been no mistake. This time. He hugged his daughter’s precious body just a little bit closer. They hadn’t been able to tell him that with Linda.
“Here’s my car. Good night, everyone,” Brooke said
John turned around slowly so he wouldn’t awaken Amy or jostle her arm in its sling. Brooke waved to his mother, who had been walking beside her, and his father, who carried a sleeping Mark. John was just beginning to realize how she had helped him through tonight. It seemed every time he was ready to lose it when Amy was in pain and he couldn’t help her, Brooke was there to place a reassuring hand on his back or his arm. She’d gotten them coffee, enlisted Mark’s help, praising and reassuring him, as well, that his sister was going to be all right.
“It’s too late for you to drive home alone,” John said. She was out this late helping him help his children. For that he’d always be in her debt.
“I thought we’d already had this discussion. I can take care of myself.” Brooke pulled her keys from her little bag. “I’m glad Amy is all right.”
John took a couple of steps toward her. “You’re not driving home by yourself.”
Her eyebrow lifted. She opened her mouth, but the clearing of his father’s throat caused her to snap it shut.
“John, if Brooke doesn’t mind, she can drive me to where you left your truck. I’ll see that she gets home safely and come back to your place afterwards,” John’s father suggested. “You get in the back seat of our car with Amy and Mark. If she wakes up, she’s gonna want you.” He faced Brooke. “Do you mind dropping me off at John’s truck?”
“No, sir, not at all, but it’s unnecessary to follow me home.”
“Brooke, I’m too old, too tired, and too grateful for you helping John to argue. I’ll put Mark down and be right back.” He walked away.
John followed.
Brooke groaned.
“They mean well, Brooke.” Mrs. Randle came up beside her. “We’re just so thankful that Amy’s all right and to you for helping John through this. Scraped knees do him in.”
“He lost it,” Brooke admitted, recalling how she had very nearly lost it as well. She would have if John hadn’t needed her.
“It was mentioning that Amy was in the hospital that did it,” she said. “I knew what my phone call would do to him and I just prayed for the good Lord to help him.” She gently touched Brooke’s shoulder. “And like always, He did.”
Brooke was about to ask John’s mother why he had an aversion to hospitals when an older-model sedan stopped a few feet away and John’s father got out of the driver’s side. “Ready.”
“Good night, Brooke, and thanks again.” Mrs. Randle got inside the car, made a U-turn, then pulled off.
“Let’s get to it,” Mr. Randle said, going to the passenger’s side of the Jag.
Brooke reluctantly gave in and opened her car door. Polite, Southern-reared children didn’t talk back to their elders. “Did anyone ever tell you how much alike you and John are?”
His grin was slow. “The handsome part or the stubborn part?”
Being polite didn’t get you far in this world. “Guess?”
“You’ll do.” Chuckling, he got inside the car.
Frowning, Brooke did the same. John’s parents certainly left her with some unanswered questions.
* * *
Claire woke slowly. A languid smile forming on her face, she stretched her arms over her head. Muscles protested. With her arms in mid-air, she froze. The torrid night with Gray came rushing back. They’d made love in this bed. Several times, if she
remembered correctly. And in the shower.
She took a cautious glance over her shoulder and saw the rumpled, empty bed. Loneliness hit her. He had left her. Clutching the sheet over naked breasts, she pulled herself up in bed. Why hadn’t he awakened her? Was he tired of her already?
The cabin door opened and she shrank back in bed. The clatter of dishes preceded Gray as he pushed the cart that had been used to serve their food last night into the room. Seeing her, he smiled.
“Good morning. I was hoping I’d be back before you woke up.”
He looked refreshed in gray slacks and crisp shirt. He looked, as always, immaculate and beautiful. She wanted to slink away. Sunlight poured though the porthole. She didn’t need a mirror to know her hair was a tangled mess after getting wet. Her makeup was gone. She tucked her head and tried to scoot out of the bed. Maybe she could make it to the bathroom and do something with herself. She had no idea where her clothes were.
“No, you don’t.” He playfully grabbed her foot beneath the covers. “You’re getting breakfast in bed.”
“Please, Gray.” She refused to look at him.
Releasing her foot, he came around the side of the bed where she was. “You’re trembling. What is it?”
She shook her head. You’re beautiful and I look like a castaway.
“Is it something I did?”
Her head came up. She saw the gorgeous face that any woman in her right mind would fall in love with, and down went her head again.
“Please, Claire, what is it? Is it last night? You regret making love with me?”
She looked up at him. “No! How can you think that?”
“Then what is it?” He reached out and tenderly brushed her hair from her face. “You’ll have to help me on this because you’re the first woman I’ve been the first man with, the first woman that’s spent the night in my bed on Destiny, the first woman I’d walk through hell not to hurt.”
By the time he’d finished she was clinging to his neck. “I don’t have a comb for my hair, no fresh clothes, and my eyes … I probably look like a raccoon.”
