Man of Fortune

by Rochelle Alers

  Tamara was different from Kalinda Douglas in physical appearance and temperament. He had been drawn to Kalinda because he believed she needed rescuing. Kali affected an air of vulnerability that was palpable, and the first time he’d approached her Duncan knew he would become the one to free her from her cloistered world of strict rules and regulations.

  It wasn’t until after they’d announced their engagement and he slept with her for the first time that he realized the woman to whom he’d pledged his love and future wasn’t what she’d presented. The line in the sand had been drawn when he’d asked her father’s permission to marry her, and the official engagement was as binding as an exchange of vows.

  The elevator door opened and the woman who’d occupied his waking thoughts stood before him. He went completely still. Tamara Wolcott was a chameleon. Every time he saw her she looked different. The curly hairdo was missing. She’d straightened her hair, thick strands falling from a natural off-center part to brush her shoulders. A white body-hugging tank top, matching linen walking shorts and black ballet-type shoes exposed and flattered her curvy womanly body.

  Reaching for her weekender, Duncan leaned over and brushed a light kiss over her mouth. “Thank you for coming.”

  Tamara wrapped an arm around Duncan’s slender waist. She’d missed him, missed touching and smelling him much more than she wanted to acknowledge—at least openly. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  Easing back, Duncan stared at her upturned face through the lenses of his glasses. Her fresh-scrubbed face radiated good health. “You don’t need an invitation to come over. Anytime you want a change of scene or need a break from your roommate, let me know and I’ll make it happen.”

  Tamara rubbed his back. “I didn’t know you were a magic genie. How many wishes do I get?”

  Duncan went completely still. Nothing on him moved, not even his eyes, as he held his breath until he was forced to release it. He felt as if he’d stepped back in time. Kali had called him her magical genie because he’d made all of her dreams come true.

  He shook his head. “No, Tamara. There’s nothing magical about me.”

  She patted his shoulder, smiling. “If not magical, then you’re special.”

  He forced a smile. “Special?”

  Tamara considered Duncan as an unfamiliar rush of total attraction held her spellbound. She’d admitted to him that he was special, but how special? Was he special enough for her to let go of her distrust of men? Special enough for her to open her heart to permit herself to feel love? Special enough to make her think about sharing not only her passion but also her future with a man?

  “You’re nothing like any other man I’ve ever known.”

  “If you’re referring to my sleeping with you on Sunday, then I can assure you that it won’t happen again.”

  Tamara met his steady eyes. “I heard your voicemail message. Let’s say I’ve been warned.”

  “As long as you understand where I’m coming from, then we should have a good time. Come, let me show you to your bedroom.”

  Tamara blinked. Duncan was becoming quite adept at segueing from one topic to another without pausing or taking a breath. She followed him across the expansive living/dining room to the staircase. It was apparent she would sleep in the bedroom next to Duncan’s.

  She’d asked herself over and over whether she wanted to sleep with Duncan, whether she was ready to make love with him, and the answer was a resounding yes. It was after three months of dating that she’d permitted her college boyfriend to share her bed, and she and Edward had met in secret for two years before marrying and sleeping together for the first time the day she celebrated her twenty-second birthday.

  Tamara had always been cognizant of her grandmother’s warning: act in haste, repent in leisure. With the first two men in her life she’d acted in leisure, but in the end she’d repented in leisure. Edward Bennett had turned her off on most men until fate brought her and Duncan Gilmore together.

  She’d finally figured out that what had attracted her to Duncan—other than his devastatingly good looks—was his quiet strength. Tamara knew she’d come at him with everything in her verbal arsenal, and he’d parried it with his own comeback that was never insulting or disrespectful.

  He cut an elegant figure in tailored suits, custom-made shirts, silk ties and imported footwear, but she preferred the sexy nerd in jeans, T-shirts, running shoes and glasses.

  Duncan opened the door to the bedroom, standing aside to let Tamara enter. “Take your time settling in. If there’s anything you’ll need, just let me know.”

  She smiled at him. “Thanks. I scheduled a three-o’clock delivery for the groceries. It’s almost three, so call me when they come so I can pay the bill.”

  A slight frown appeared between his eyes. “I’ll pay it.”

  “But it’s a lot of—”

  Duncan held up a hand, stopping her in mid sentence. “I said I’ve got it.”

  Scrunching up her face, Tamara stuck out her tongue at him. She wondered if he’d be so willing to pay the bill when he saw the total. She shopped at one of the most expensive gourmet markets in the city. But it was worth the price because of the quality of the meat, fish, dairy, fruits and vegetables. The consortium of merchants sold everything from imported olives and cheese to the finest domestic and imported wine. Whenever she called in her order, it was delivered to her door within twenty-four hours.

  “I…” Tamara’s retort trailed off when she heard a whining sound. Walking into the bedroom, she stopped when she saw a crate in a corner with a fluffy white puppy in it, standing on its hind legs, front paws pressed against the wire.

  Her eyes filled. She turned and smiled at Duncan as tears of joy streaked her face. “You didn’t.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I did. And no matter what happens between us, I won’t ask for her back.”

  Tamara sniffled in an attempt to bring her fragile emotions under control. “You got me a girl?”

  “Yes. When I saw her I knew she’d be perfect for you. Why don’t you open the crate and meet Miss Wolcott.”

  Duncan watched Tamara take tentative steps as she approached the crate. The puppy whined to get out. Tamara went to her knees, sliding back the latch and seconds later she was cradling the wiggling puppy against her breasts.

  “She’s beautiful, Duncan. Thank you.”

  “The papers attesting to her pedigree are on the table along with a printout of her vaccinations. The breeder said the cream shading on her chest may or may not disappear. If it does, then she’ll be all white as an adult.”

  Tamara looked at Duncan over her shoulder. “When did she get her shots?”

  “I stopped at a vet after I picked her up from the breeder this morning to have her checked out and he said she’s in good health. She’s three months and weighs three pounds, seven ounces. And she’s also paper-trained.”

  Burying her face in the soft curly coat, Tamara closed her eyes. Her new puppy wouldn’t replace Snowflake, but she would love this one as much or more because Duncan had given it to her.

  “I just came up with a name for her.”

  Duncan approached the woman who’d managed to turn his life upside-down within the span of a week. Going to his knees, he wrapped his arms around both Tamara and the puppy.

  “What are you naming her?”

  Tamara raised her head, her gaze fusing with his. “Duchess Wolcott-Gilmore.”

  His gaze dropped to her parted lips. “Shouldn’t it be Gilmore-Wolcott?”

  “No, darling. If Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt can name their children Jolie-Pitt, then I can name my baby Wolcott-Gilmore.”

  “Easy, mama,” he crooned, “I didn’t mean to insult your baby girl.”

  Rising slightly, Tamara pressed her mouth to his, deepening the kiss when his tongue slipped between her lips. A swathe of heat swept over her, and she moaned as a ball of desire exploded between her legs. It was merely a kiss, but she felt as if she lay naked with his hard s
ex inside her.

  The chiming of a bell echoed throughout the condo, signaling a bark and wavering sound from Duchess that resembled howling.

  Duncan stood up, reached down and helped Tamara gently to stand. “That must be the food.”

  He crossed the room and pushed a button on the intercom near the bedroom door. “Yes?” he said into the speaker.

  “I’ve got a delivery from Gotham City Market.”

  “Come on up.” He punched another button, disengaging the lock on the outer door. Shifting, he saw Tamara with Duchess cradled to her chest, staring at him. “How much is the bill?”

  “Six hundred and seventy-eight dollars and thirty-nine cents.”

  “What on earth did you buy? Caviar?”

  She smiled. “Yes and a few other things. That’s why I told you I’d pay for it.”

  Duncan pointed a finger. “I told you I’d get it. I always keep cash in the house.”

  Turning on his heel he walked out of the guest bedroom and into his own where he kept a supply of cash in the event of an emergency. He’d begun the practice after the August 14, 2003, blackout, when he had less than twenty dollars on his person and was unable to access ATMs.

  He counted out eight one-hundred-dollar bills and descended the stairs. A close-circuit monitor showed the image of a man in coveralls with Gotham City Market stitched on the pocket and on the front of his cap.

  The door opened and the deliveryman pushed three oversized plastic bins on a dolly out of the elevator. “Where do you want me to unload these, mister?”

  “Follow me.”

  Duncan stood numbly by as the bins were emptied and fresh fruit, vegetables and containers and cans of foodstuffs littered the countertop. He smiled when he spied a tiny tin of caviar.

  “That’s it, mister.” The stocky deliveryman, who sported a thick black handlebar mustache, removed an invoice from the pocket of his coveralls.

  Duncan handed him the crisp bills. “Keep the change.”

  “Thanks!”

  “You’re welcome.” He walked the deliveryman to the elevator, waiting until the door closed. Turning a key in a wall switch, Duncan locked the elevator door. Tamara met him as he made his way back to the kitchen. She handed him a book.

  “Cooking for Yourself,” he mumbled, reading the title aloud. “It looks like interesting reading.”

  Tamara threaded her fingers through Duncan’s free hand. “It looks more intimidating than it actually is,” she said, when he gave her a pointed look.

  He placed the book on the counter next to some jars of mustard. “Did you order quail eggs to go along with the caviar?”

  “Not this time.”

  Wrapping his arms around her waist as Tamara began sorting through the jars, tins and boxes on the countertop, Duncan eased the hem of her tank top from the waistband of her shorts. “I’m going to enjoy playing house with you.”

  Tamara closed her eyes and pressed the back of her head to his shoulder, enjoying the feel of his hands on her bare skin. At that moment she didn’t want to play house. What she wanted was the real thing.

  When they’d been stuck in the elevator she’d told Duncan that she had loved being married. Even so, there was never a time when she’d actually felt like a wife, because she’d become nothing more than a legal companion. She and Edward rarely saw each other, and when they did it wasn’t to make love but to talk about their work. That was something she could’ve done with any man.

  Duncan heard the soft hitch in Tamara’s breathing when he cupped her breasts. They were full, firm and heavy, like ripened melons. The undeniable magnetism that had been so apparent when they were trapped in the elevator, the vaguely sensuous anticipation felt whenever they occupied the same space, frightened him because he feared losing control.

  He’d gone for prolonged periods of time without sleeping with a woman, but now Duncan wanted to make love to Tamara with an intensity that threatened to embarrass him.

  “Duncan.” His name came out in a fevered whisper when Tamara felt his erection pressing against her hips.

  He answered her entreaty, fastening his mouth to the side of her neck. “Baby…I can’t…”

  Tamara was drowning, sinking deeper and deeper into an abyss of longing that threatened to swallow her whole. She wanted Duncan to take her—right there in the kitchen, throwing caution to the wind.

  “Don’t move, darling. Please don’t move,” she pleaded. If he did move then it would be all over and she’d beg him to make love to her.

  But he did move. He turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving her trembling with an intense throbbing that left her wet and shaking. Closing her eyes, she waited for the long-forgotten pleasurable sensation to fade.

  Tamara wanted to shower but knew putting away fresh meat, fish and dairy items took precedence. Three-quarters of an hour passed before the freezer section of the refrigerator was filled with wrapped and labeled meat and fish, the refrigerator shelves with dairy, vegetable drawers with fruit and vegetables and pantry shelves with neatly stacked jars, bottles, cans and tins of nonperishable items.

  She went upstairs to her bedroom to find Duncan sitting in a chair with the puppy asleep on his lap. Avoiding his eyes, she went over to the weekender resting on a luggage rack and opened it.

  “Please put Duchess back in her crate, or she’ll get used to someone holding her while she’s sleeping.”

  Duncan didn’t move. “I want to make her feel secure in her new environment.”

  Tamara removed a dress with spaghetti straps and set of underwear from the bag. “I don’t want you to spoil her, Duncan.”

  “What if I spoil you, Tamara?”

  “I’m too old to be spoiled.”

  He ran a finger back and forth over the puppy’s ear. “A woman never gets too old for spoiling. All you have to do is ask my aunt. I try and give her whatever she wants because I love her.”

  Tamara turned and stared at Duncan, her eyes widening when she saw something in his that hadn’t been there before. “The difference, Duncan, is that you don’t love me.”

  A slow smile tilted the corners of his mouth—a very sexy mouth that did things she’d forgotten the existence of to her body. “Do you know that for certain?”

  A rush of heat slammed her face, making it hard for Tamara to think or to draw a normal breath. “No—no, I—I don’t know for certain,” she stammered.

  Duncan pushed to his feet, still cradling the puppy. She wasn’t certain, but he was. He didn’t love Tamara Wolcott. However, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was falling in love with her. He couldn’t right the wrongs of her ex-husband, but he’d promised himself that he would try to make whatever time they had together fun and memorable.

  “Duchess and I will be on the terrace.”

  Tamara’s jaw dropped when Duncan opened the sliding door to the terrace, stepped out and closed it behind him. Walking over to the wall of glass, she closed the floor-to-ceiling sheers then the silk drapes, closing out the sunlight and the image of the man and her dog reclining on a chaise.

  She knew her feelings for Duncan were intensifying with each telephone call and whenever they shared the same space. She wasn’t certain how he felt about her, but she was more than cognizant of her feelings for him. Tamara Wolcott was falling hopelessly and inexorably in love with Duncan Gilmore.

  CHAPTER 10

  Tamara, knowing she couldn’t put off the inevitable, joined Duncan on the terrace. She smiled. He lay on the chaise with Duchess between his legs. The puppy was still asleep.

  Duncan saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to find Tamara only a few feet away. “Come join us.” He gently lifted Duchess with one hand, while patting the cushion with the other. He opened his legs wider. “Sit here.”

  Tamara sat down, swinging her legs over the chaise and pressing her back to Duncan’s chest. Peering over her shoulder, she winked at him. “May I have my dog?” He handed her the puppy, who whined softly before
settling down on her lap and promptly going back to sleep.

  “Now, who’s spoiling her highness?” Duncan crooned in Tamara’s ear.

  “I can because she’s my baby.”

  Resting his chin on her bared shoulder, he inhaled the sensual subtlety of her perfume. “You’re a hypocrite, darling.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You can spoil Duchess, yet you won’t permit me to spoil you.”

  “No man has ever spoiled me,” Tamara retorted.

  “Not even your father?”

  “No, Duncan, not even my father. That’s not to say Daddy doesn’t love me or my sisters. He’s from the old school that a wife and mother’s responsibility is taking care of the home and rearing children.

  “Most times he could be found in his study either preparing lectures or exams. My sisters and I learned early on never to bother him when the door was closed. I remember the time when I sat on the floor outside his study waiting for him to open the door to show him my report card. When he finally opened it hours later he asked how long I’d been waiting. When I told him I’d waited more than two hours to show him that I’d made the high honor roll, he told me I could always interrupt him if it pertained to school. Of course, my sisters were pissed that I’d been granted special privileges so they cranked up the bitch meter to turn Daddy against me.”

  “Did it work?”

  “No because Daniel Wolcott despised tattling and they knew it.”

  “Are you estranged from your sisters?”

  “No,” Tamara admitted truthfully. “It’s different now that we’re adults. Tiffany is the middle child and she runs hot and cold. The only thing I’m going to say is that I pray for her husband. Renata and I have grown closer over the years. I was at her house earlier this week because she was having an emotional meltdown.”

  “Is that why you asked me about a divorce attorney?”

  Tamara stared at the throngs along Chelsea Piers. It was late afternoon and there was a steady stream of tourists disembarking from tour buses coming to take in the sights of the city.