Winning It All

by Catherine Mann

  Vanessa swung her feet up onto the sofa in the private railway car. Propping her chin on her hand, she stared out the tinted window as the Long Island shore whipped past. She was thrilled and entranced by Nicolas’s idea to spend the afternoon together. Apparently he’d gone to a lot of trouble to arrange this in advance. That he would go to so much trouble, think so far ahead about them together, touched her heart. “How did you come up with this idea?”

  Nicolas lifted her legs and sat beside her, resting her feet in his lap. “Train travel is more prevalent where I come from.”

  “Well, I’m totally a fan.”

  The sheen of polished mahogany wainscoting with a brass chandelier anchored overhead created an old-fashioned, time-away-from-the-world feel she desperately needed right now. The air was thick with the scent of orchids filling a crystal vase. White flowers. A small nod to her color preference that she couldn’t help but enjoy. Antique linens covered a small table with a silver tea service at the ready.

  And yet she was too nervous to enjoy it all to the full extent.

  She looked away from the window, needing to focus on what was right in front of her, leaving everything else behind. The gilded mirror reflected her pale face, although she felt fine, wide awake, in fact, and all too aware of the double just beyond the archway.

  Maybe she should focus on the table for two instead, where they’d shared almond chicken salad, cheese and fruit—all perfect treats to tempt her palate without risking sugar overload.

  At least she could indulge her ravenous appetite. This probably wasn’t the best time to indulge in sex, when her emotions were in such turmoil over the pregnancy. So far he wasn’t pushing, simply rubbing her feet and talking.

  The railcar rocked ever so slightly, just enough to sooth without overpowering. Exactly what she needed. And wow, he could continue that foot rub forever. “What an amazing idea.”

  “You inspire me.” The words rolled off his tongue with a thicker accent than normal, one of the few indications of emotion from her stark lover.

  “What a beautiful thing to say.”

  He paused his massage, his hands simply holding her feet. “Beautiful?”

  “Don’t get your testosterone in a twist. You’re totally masculine, almost too much so sometimes. Be thankful you have that sexy accent to add a romantic edge to the ‘oozing machismo.’ I do believe that’s the phrase I saw in a recent tabloid piece on you.”

  “You’ve been reading up on me, ‘Fearless Vanessa’?”

  She clamped her hands over her ears. “I hate that headline.”

  He rested his hands over hers and linked their fingers until she slid into his arms. “Vanessa,” he said, his voice caressing her ears as surely as his thumbs stroking her wrists, “it’s true. You have an unconquerable spirit.”

  “Spoiled, you mean,” she said with a wince, remembering an old accusation.

  He held her eyes with his, so dark, mocha-rich and mysterious. “I’m sorry for not taking the time to get to know you better last year.”

  “We were kinda busy with other pastimes.”

  Memories swirled between them—sex in the shower, in the stable, in her car, anytime the mood stirred…and it had stirred so very often. How strange this celibate summer was in contrast.

  Slipping her hands from his, she crossed her arms over her stomach as if she could somehow hold on to her secret, on to this understanding between them, longer. “I’m a master at dodging the press when I wish, but even I never knew there were this many places to hide. You’ve outdone yourself these past couple of months.”

  “I see your world differently than you do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His thumb worked along the tender arch of her foot. “You’ve walked the path so often you see what you expect.”

  A shiver of awareness sparked from her foot upward. “You know all about my life here, but you never talk about growing up.”

  “As you said, we were too busy to talk much last summer.” His thumbs worked with such seductive precision she began to wonder if the sensual massage was part of some grander plan.

  “The way we handled things was a mistake.”

  “Perhaps.” He worked along one toe at a time.

  She swallowed hard, her body languid. How could she be so relaxed and turned on all at once? “Talk to me now, about your childhood.”

  “Pfft,” he dismissed her question. “You can read my bio on Wikipedia the same as anyone else can.”

  “And of course I already have.” She refused to be distracted that easily. This was her chance to ask more, to be more. “Wiki doesn’t tell me about your paths.”

  “I’m a fairly uncomplicated man. My family wasn’t wealthy, but we weren’t hungry. My sisters and I had what we needed. I lucked into a chance to increase the family coffers, and I took it.”

  He said it all so simply, sparse with his words and emotions. She knew there was more to him, even if he offered few glimpses behind his impassive mask.

  Regardless, she refused to let him dismiss his impressive accomplishments. “My father says the harder he works, the luckier he gets.”

  A rare smile twitched his seductive mouth. “I like the way your father thinks.”

  “I believe you look at paths and see opportunities.”

  “If it makes you happy to analyze me, feel free.” His hands slid up to her ankles, clearly intent on distracting her.

  “Am I an opportunity?”

  “Woman, you are a walking, talking, mesmerizing liability, and you damn well know it.” His fingers worked along muscles up to her knees, his hands hot and strong and tempting even through her jeans.

  She clamped his wrists and stopped his path. “I think I’m insulted.”

  He held her hands and met her eyes again with intensity and even a hint of anger. “You slapped me in front of a dozen reporters—and your family. Such a huge crowd gathered to gawk, the other game had to be stopped. A senator and a visiting ambassador left—conspicuously, I might add. I don’t know about you, but that is most certainly not the professional face I wish to display.”

  The power of his emotions stirred her own. He might be mad, but she knew he would never hurt her. In fact, he was so gentle with her sometimes she wanted to rattle him and shake free the powerful passion she knew they shared. “You shouldn’t have called me a spoiled and immature princess.”

  “You shouldn’t have acted like one.”

  The immature part had stung most, and still did. But she had to accept that she’d earned that reputation. Repairing the damage and regaining trust was her responsibility.

  She was trying to make amends, but time was ticking away so fast for her this summer. She didn’t know how much longer she would have with Nicolas. Who knew how he would react when he learned about the baby? Would he consider this yet another reason he couldn’t trust her? But could she help it if she wanted to get closer to him, to earn back his trust before news of the baby weighed into his thinking? Either way, she could lose him altogether, and it hurt to think about a lifetime of wanting him.

  Right now could be all she—they—had.

  Decision made, Vanessa knelt beside him on the sofa, linking her arms around his neck. Before she could lean in to kiss him, Nicolas swept her up with the predatory growl she remembered well.

  Months of waiting was about to end.

  Four

  His waiting had come to an end. Finally, he had Vanessa back in his bed. Or in this case, in the bed in his railcar, once he carried her from the parlor compartment through the archway to the bedroom.

  He sensed the difference in her kiss, the subtle suggestive pressure of her mouth. Testing his perception, Nicolas traced her pouty bottom lip with his tongue, and she opened immediately. The taste of melon and cheese, Vanessa and him, mingled in a foreshadowing of the deeper connection they would share soon. But not too soon. He wanted to draw this out for her, ensuring an encore.

  Nicolas settled her on the plaid
spread piled high with decorative pillows and shams. The mattress dipped with the weight of his knee on the edge as he shifted over her. She must have come to some kind of peace about her adoption because there was no mistaking her intent focus on the moment. On him.

  And he intended to work like hell to ensure she wouldn’t be so quick to leave.

  One button at a time he flicked open her blouse, exposing inch by tempting inch of creamy skin, see-through lace, more skin. After so long without her, he soaked up the sight of her, the curves of her breasts, the dip of her waist. In a double-edged torment he ruthlessly controlled the moment, drawing out her pleasure while sharpening his own to a painful edge.

  He’d planned this afternoon on the private railcar to have her totally and completely to himself. No concerns about interruptions. Just Vanessa, with him, for hours on end. For once they didn’t have an evening party to attend, so he’d arranged to have a limo pick them up at the train’s after-dinner stop.

  Meanwhile, he needed to use this time wisely, seductively. He thumbed along her rib cage, the fragile bones and translucent skin familiar under his fingers. Still he couldn’t stop staring with appreciation, anticipation.

  Her fingers worked down the fastenings on his shirt, mirroring his actions button for button until the cool conditioned air swept over his chest. She flattened her palms inside, branding him with her warm touch as she swept the crisp cotton away.

  She raked her nails along his chest, lightly scoring. “This has been the longest two months of my life.”

  “I would have been happy to accommodate you at any time.” He popped open her jeans and slid the zipper down, the rasp echoing the need grinding inside him. A low band of white lace peeked free, and he tucked his head to snap the elastic lightly with his teeth. “Thoughts of you, of this, have been killing me every second.”

  Nicolas inhaled, the erotic scent of her filling him. Throbbing, he nipped his way up her pale flat stomach, up to her breasts, her dusky nipples visible and taut and pushing against the peek-a-boo swirls of her lace bra. Her underwear was always white in her signature style, but in different patterns and cuts. Last summer he’d almost driven himself crazy watching her throughout the day, wondering what he would find once he undressed her.

  Today, he knew. Lacey demi-bra and a thong. He took one hardened peak in his mouth, rolling it gently against his teeth, the dampened fabric a sweet abrasion against his tongue. She tasted like perfection.

  Vanessa gasped, her blond hair tousled from his touch, one long strand pooling in the hollow of her throat. “How long does the train ride last? How far will we go?”

  “As long—” he shifted his attention to her other breast “—and as far—” he tunneled his hand into the open vee of her jeans “—as you want.”

  “Don’t make promises like that.” She cupped his cheek and brought him up to her, face-to-face, her azure eyes stormy, intense. “We both know this ride has to end.”

  He couldn’t miss her implied meaning about their future beyond this simple afternoon on the train. Of course nothing was ever simple with Vanessa, and he was quickly finding that intrigued him. If she wanted more, he would damn well provide.

  Nuzzling into her silky hair, he peeled down her jeans while whispering in her ear, “Then we’ll return again…and again…and again.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that promise.”

  His heartbeat pounded an extra thump in response.

  She kicked her jeans off, her legs tangling with his, urging him to his side. She stayed with him until he rested on his back. He cupped her head, taking the kiss deeper, fuller. Her busy fingers roved, explored, disposed of his pants. And then he was in her hand.

  His head pushed back into the pillows, his eyes closing as she stroked slowly, deliberately. A hitch in the train’s motion provided tantalizing pleasure as they moved subtly against each other. He had to regain control fast or this would be over before they really got started.

  Bracketing her waist with his hands, he lifted her as he sat up straighter on the bed. With a deft sweep of his hand, her bra came free, airborne as he tossed it away to land on the floor. She filled his hands, her breasts swelling into his palms with a sweet abundance his memory hadn’t done justice. Her head lolled, her lashes sweeping closed.

  Yes, he’d been right to find this time away, to dispense with their reservations as surely as their clothes. A quick twist and snap and he’d done away with her lacey thong, the final barrier between them. She straddled him as they sat face-to-face.

  He looked his fill. Their time in the sauna had been fast and frenzied. This would be different.

  Her silvery blond hair slithered over one shoulder, ends teasing along the tip of her breast. For a moment he noticed that she had the barest of tan lines—and then he could think of nothing but the slick press of her core against the throbbing length of him.

  The chandelier swayed overhead with the gentle rocking of the railcar, shifting light and shadows over her skin like phantom fingers stroking her in all the places he ached to explore.

  Fingertips to his cheek, she scratched lightly along the stubble he never seemed able to completely shave away. “I’m all for savoring the moment, Nicolas, but if you don’t take me soon, the motion of this train is going to finish me.”

  She rolled her hips against him until the head of his arousal pressed closer. All he had to do was thrust and he would be inside her again. He clamped his jaw hard against the temptation to throw away caution again, and palmed the protection he’d tucked just under the rim of the tea set. Vanessa looked at the condom in his hand and frowned. Yeah, he understood her frustration—they’d come so close to forgetting about birth control altogether.

  Frenetic need filled him now as it had that night in the sauna. He’d almost forgotten then, withdrawing just in time. He would do better by her this time. Vanessa stayed silent, chewing on her bottom lip while he sheathed himself.

  Her hands on his shoulders, she lowered herself onto him and he clutched her hips as he wrestled with restraint—tough to do, given the soft feel of her flesh around him. Nicolas leaned back against the headboard as she hooked her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck.

  Sighing, she teased his chest with her breasts, skimming kisses over his mouth. His tongue stroked in sync with his thrusts until he stopped thinking and just felt her around him. In his senses. It seemed right, given that he couldn’t get her out of his thoughts even when they weren’t together.

  The humming vibration and swaying of the car intensified every movement she made, her sighs and moans of pleasure echoing in the dimly lit cabin. He rolled her onto her back, still intimately connected.

  Vanessa’s arms clutched him closer, her legs wrapping tighter until her heels dug into him. With each urgent rocking of her hips, she whispered her wants, and damn how he enjoyed the way she made it crystal clear what she needed and how he made her feel. Every sexy word and hitch in her breathing stoked him higher, harder, closer to the edge, but he wasn’t going there alone. He thrust and waited, watching for the telltale flush spreading over Vanessa’s creamy flesh. She arched and moaned, her fingernails biting into his back.

  Finally, finally he could let go. Release jetted through him, intensified by her body gripping him in pulsing waves, drawing out the sensations until— He slumped to rest on his elbows before rolling beside her and gathering her perspiration-slicked body to his.

  They must have drifted off because the next thing he knew, the sun was setting outside the window. He dragged the comforter from around their feet and draped it over them.

  Stirring, Vanessa snuggled closer with a sigh and mumbled, “How late is it?”

  “Almost supper time. The refrigerator is well-stocked. Would you like to take a look and decide what calls to your appetite?”

  A sleepy smile dug dimples in her cheeks, still pink from stubble burn. “Surprise me. You’ve done well with that today.”

  He skimmed her shoulder with
the back of his knuckles. “Spend the night with me. We can stay on the train. I can have the limo pick us up farther down the line.”

  Her smile faded and she fidgeted with the covers. “My father waits up. I know I’m an adult, but it seems cruel to worry him.”

  “What about telling him the truth?” The words were out before he thought about them, but once said… The secret meetings had been stimulating, and his conscience hadn’t bothered him since they weren’t sleeping together. But now? His principles demanded honesty. He would treat her and their relationship with respect. “A simple phone call, and your father will know we are a couple again.”

  She bolted upright, the comforter clasped to her chest, her hair tousled around her face in sexy disarray. “You’re willing to take the scrutiny of dating me, of being connected to the Hughes family and the Bridgehampton Polo Club?”

  Nicolas pushed to his feet to give himself distance from the distracting scent of their lovemaking, not because he was uncomfortable with her question, damn it. “People will gossip, but that should be of no concern to us.”

  He’d hesitated a second too long before answering her. He knew from the retreat in her eyes that she’d sensed his concern about possible bad PR and was upset by his gut reaction. Honor dictated he be upfront about their growing relationship, but that didn’t mean he was comfortable with the decision. He had a professional reputation to maintain, something he thought Vanessa would understand better now than she had last year.

  And what did she want? The flash of uncertainty in her eyes made him wonder if she wanted more than a last fling to get over each other.

  Then she blinked, a smile curving her kissed-full lips. She wriggled to lean against the headboard, the rustle of sheets serenading him with promises.

  To hell with food or phone calls. They still had hours left before they returned home.

  The mattress gave beneath his knee as he returned to the bed. She opened her mouth and he kissed her before she could speak. Every word they’d spoken seemed to slide between them like layers of clothes, keeping them from the one way they communicated without confusion. Her fingers crawled up his chest and into his hair, urging him to stretch out beside her.