Felicity Stripped Bare

by Vanessa Jaye

  He had the necessities—chairs, tables, beds. And he’d cared enough to choose unique pieces that were interesting, but now, walking through the condo with Felicity and seeing his home through her eyes, he was aware of what was missing. The throw pillows and fresh flowers. A woman’s touch.

  Her bland compliments on the nice white walls weren’t lost on him either. He hesitated at the door of his study, rethinking his position on nesting.

  “You don’t have to show me your office.”

  Daniel looked down at Felicity. “I have nothing to hide from you.” He tried to hold her gaze, but she looked away again. Damn it. Take it slow, clown boy.

  He pushed open the door and ushered her in. “I’m particularly proud of the walls in here. I choose French Vanilla Fadeout for its stimulating properties—”

  Daniel earned himself a poke to the ribs that he twisted away from, then he quickly moved out of tickling range when he saw her eyes narrow and the almost evil grin that curled her delectable mouth. The last time he’d seen that look there had been a paintbrush in her hand. He wasn’t taking any chances—even with her on crutches.

  “And through here—” he walked across the room to another door “—is the master bedroom…”

  Felicity wasn’t following along; she’d stopped in the middle of the room, staring at the wall behind his desk. His mother had insisted the degrees he refused to display at Mackenzie Phillips and Bassett find a proper home here.

  This was the only room he’d allowed any signs of nesting, and his mother, true to form, had run with the ball. There were framed family pictures, some of happier days between him and his dad, on the credenza, and a bunch of useless tasseled cushions on the small two-seater. A Persian rug under the desk and a potted fern were the final pieces of clutter she’d snuck in before he asked for his key back.

  “You sure have a lot of degrees,” Felicity said quietly, shooting him a look from the corner of her eye.

  He shrugged. “It looks more impressive than it really is, considering my mom framed and hung every single award I’ve earned since age three.”

  Felicity snorted. “Maybe I should try that.”

  He wondered at her hint of bitterness. “You didn’t finish your degree?”

  “Didn’t start it. I decided the school of hard knocks, with a major in crappy jobs, was an easier route.”

  The dark thread in her voice roped his heart. She looked a little lost, a little vulnerable standing in the middle of room. He remembered the odd comments she’d made from time to time, painting a picture of a lonely childhood. He hadn’t pried, picking up on the pain in her eyes and the proud tilt of her head, but he’d gathered that money had been an issue growing up.

  But not as big an issue as love. The scene with her parents played through Daniel’s mind, her father’s harsh words and the way she’d kept so still, felt so brittle, in his arms afterward.

  That same brittleness was there now, telegraphing that she didn’t want to be touched. He would respect that, for now. But he did move closer, right into her line of vision by leaning against the desk.

  “You’re interested in interior decorating, right?”

  She met his gaze. “Yeah.” The admission came reluctantly, as if she didn’t want him to have even that small bit of knowledge, he thought ruefully.

  “You have an eye for it. Besides your sad lack of appreciation for the infinite possibilities of white.”

  The tightness in his chest eased at her smile.

  “So it’s not like you’re going to be a waitress for the rest of your life. You can go back to school, or gain experience working in a design studio or shop. Or you can start up something freelance.”

  Felicity rolled her eyes, a look of bemusement on her face. “And who would hire me?”

  “Me,” he said, surprising himself for a split second, but it made perfect sense. Now he had to convince her.

  “Why so shocked? You have talent. I’ve seen what you did with your place on a budget. Well, I’ve got a way bigger budget.”

  Color rose in her face, and sensing her pride might cause some resistance, he quickly added, “Plus, I’ve got some experience in the field and connections within the industry. I can be like a tutor.”

  “A tutor, huh?” She seemed to find this amusing, but she was still wary.

  “You doubt my tutoring abilities?” He let a suggestive note trickle into voice.

  She giggled in response. “Oh, I think you’d be a natural,” she said. Then, “You really think I can do this?”

  He stood up and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I know you can.”

  She gave him a blinding smile, then her smile dimmed. “You don’t know how much I hate my job.”

  “I have an idea. My third year at U of T, me and my dad were barely on speaking terms. I moved out. Luckily, I had a small trust from my grandmother that helped pay for tuition, but the rest I had to ante up myself with odd jobs.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Construction?”

  He nodded. “Which in light of my present situation, almost makes those years training and working in law seem like a waste of time.”

  “I know all about wasted years.” She sighed, looking at his degrees again, and started nibbling on a stubby fingernail. He’d noticed her nails before, ugly, raggedy and bitten to the quick. He loved all ten of them.

  “I moved out when I was sixteen,” she said taking him by surprise. “That’s when I quit school. I thought anything would be better than being at home, and-and school, well it wasn’t for me.” She looked at her bitten nails a little too studiously.

  “It must have been hard.”

  “Yep. But that’s life. Right?” Her tone said she didn’t want an answer, she was done sharing.

  He was disappointed, but reminded himself, patience. There’d be time, later, to share their pasts, their disappointments, their dreams.

  Their futures.

  “Sometimes you make one little careless decision, and it changes your whole life.”

  She was looking at him. Sweet.

  “Then you realized that maybe you made the wrong decision.”

  Shit. She was still looking at him. No, wait, she was looking at the wall again. Daniel pulled her hand away from her mouth. “So when do you want to start? We can probably get some things done this week. If you’re up to it.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “I told you before, Felicity, you can take my word as bond.” He squeezed her hand and watched as she went from confused to cautious, then just as her features were softening into something more, the phone rang.

  A curse ran through his head as he released her and went to answer the call.

  “Daniel?”

  “Deirdra.” He saw Felicity stiffen. “Hold on a second.” He moved the mouth-piece away. “This will just take a minute.”

  “You go ahead.” She backed up, hobbling towards the door.

  “Here, let me help you.”

  “No, thank you, I can find my way. Thanks for the tour.”

  For someone with a limp she moved pretty fast. The door shut behind her. Thank you for the tour. Breakfast was delicious, thank you. Thank you, I’ll be fine.

  Just when he was making progress.

  Screw thank-you.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Felicity lay down on her bed, chewing on a nail while jammy sensation slicked her gut. Fear.

  But this fear…this was about achieving dreams, or losing them. This was what she’d felt when she’d walked out of her father’s house at sixteen, knowing that she was more than he’d said.

  Her heart plunged then buoyed back up on the possibilities. A lot of what Daniel did straddled the finishing end of decorating, and he did have the connections. This could really happen!

  Her gaze flitted around the room, her mind coming up with a thousand alternative decorating possibilities, until she lit upon the dresser and mirror. The one VD had checked to see if she still had
a reflection. Felicity’s high came crashing down.

  She rolled onto her back, straining with bionic intensity to pick up on Daniel’s conversation with his ex as she bit at her raw cuticle. Her attempted snooping was rewarded with the sound of bare feet padding down the hall. The footsteps stopped at her door and she tensed.

  “I’ll be going out this evening, Felicity. Probably be gone for most of the night. Going to give VD some of that hot monkey lovin’ I gave you—” She shut off the imaginary voice in her head as Daniel’s footsteps retreated back down the hall.

  Felicity resumed biting her nails. Why was she tormenting herself like this?

  Because she wanted to be the one wrapped in his arms, being kissed by him and feeling him hot and hard moving inside her. She stopped nibbling and sat up, indecision plaguing her. She was an idiot to even be thinking of making love with him again, when she was just another piece of ass to him. If she believed Deirdra.

  Thing is, she didn’t want to believe her. Stupid bitch in too much makeup.

  A loud crash came from somewhere in the condo, followed by a string of curses. She grabbed a crutch and limped as fast as she could to investigate.

  “Daniel? What happened? Are you okay?” She reached the main room and spotted him in the kitchen.

  “I’m fine. Can’t say the same for the antipasto.” He stooped down, disappearing below the counter.

  Curious, she went around the island and stopped short at the sight of the mess on the floor.

  Daniel went down on his haunches, a garbage bin by his side as he picked out the bigger pieces of china from the assortment of spilled meats and vegetables, and dumped them into the receptacle.

  “What’s that?” The sound of a tinny voice calling Daniel’s name had her frowning.

  He straightened up and grabbed the phone off the counter. “I’ll call you back…no, no, it’s fine.” He glanced at Felicity. “Now’s not a good time to talk. Yes, I’ll see you later.”

  “Are you going out?” The question slipped out as he hung up. She couldn’t help herself. Visions of Daniel and VD engaged in hot monkey-lovin’ were trapezing through her mind.

  He looked over his shoulder as he grabbed a short handled brush and dirt shovel from under the sink. “No, why?”

  “I thought you were talking to Deirdra. It sounded like you were going to see her later…” She shifted under his suddenly sharp gaze.

  “That was my mom. I needed her advice on something.” He stopped, flushing. “I thought you’d like a home cooked meal instead of another soup and sandwich deal for lunch.”

  Felicity looked around; there was skillet on the gas range, and a colander in the sink filled with mixed greens. A slow smile curved her mouth. “What were you making?”

  “A mess.”

  “Maybe I can help?”

  “No!”

  Her jaw dropped at his quick vehemence, and he chuckled. “I remember your macaroni and cheese.”

  “At least my food was cooked before it ended up in the garbage.”

  “And your point is?”

  She stuck out her tongue. “Do you need help cleaning up, at least?”

  “This is exactly what you can do.” He stepped over the crap on the floor, then guided her to a barstool on the other side of the island. “Sit here.”

  Daniel removed a wine glass from the overhead rack and placed it in front of her. From the fridge, he retrieved a bottle of wine.

  “You’ll like this; nicely rounded, crisp, with some pleasing fruity notes in the aftertaste.” He poured her a glass.

  She barely suppressed a smile, before taking a sip.

  “What’s so funny?” He set the bottle down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter.

  “All I know about wine could be summed up in four words: red, white, baby duck.”

  “Then I’ll just have to take the time to teach you a little bit more about wine while you’re here.” He sounded lazy. He looked dangerous. His gaze drifted from her eyes to her mouth.

  Daniel reached out, his hand covering hers as he deliberately turned the wine glass so that the exact spot she’d drunk from was facing him. Then forcing her hand up with his, he raised the glass to his lips and drank.

  Over the edge of the goblet Daniel watched Felicity’s irises deepen from silver to pewter and a flush bloom across her cheeks. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, making arousal tug at his groin.

  Was the plan to do her, then woo her? Or vice versa? He was getting confused. He swallowed and put the glass down.

  “Color—the clarity, the richness and the depth—are all very important elements of wine.” He stroked the silken skin on the back of her hand. And felt her tremble. He wanted her to tremble some more, every part of her, under his hands, his mouth, his body.

  He moved his caress to the rim of the glass, tracing slow lazy circles around it, then dipped his finger into the wine. He smeared the liquid across her mouth.

  “It reveals a lot about the nature of the drink. Like making love, there are different experiences, different tastes, different levels of enjoyment.

  “White wine can be intense, complex, exotic.” Her clever little tongue darted out again, touching him, then warm lips parted and he felt the light suction to his forefinger. The tug of desire he’d been experiencing turned into a tight milking grip.

  “Rosés,” his voice went rusty with barely suppressed want, “are softly textured…sweet, warm, and sumptuous.” By exquisite degrees, he stroked his finger into and out of Felicity’s mouth, savoring the intense pleasure of slowly gliding against her wet tongue. Each suckle on his flesh made his cock harden and grow, while his ’nads shrank tight and hot up against his body. He groaned, pulling his finger out of her mouth, before he wrapped his hand around her neck and urged her to him.

  “And red is earthy, elemental, deep, and…irresistible,” he whispered harshly, before covering her mouth with his own. Tasting, plunging, exploring. A growl of frustration tore from his throat, he wanted to be closer. Needed to feel her sweet curves pressed against him.

  Without breaking the kiss, he moved around the counter and indulged himself for a few amazing minutes eating at her mouth, until he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be pawing her. Groping wasn’t good strategy for a long term relationship. He eased back.

  “Is the lesson over already?” she whispered wistfully.

  “A connoisseur never overindulges. They savor the experience.” He dropped a final kiss on her nose and slid the glass closer to her. “Here, drink, while I work on dinner.”

  He went back to the sink and started washing the veggies for their salad. “You’ll be quite pleased with what I have in store for you.”

  “Hmmm. Oh I’m sure I’ll love every mouthful,” she said huskily.

  A reminder to himself not to pressure Felicity in any way was the only reason he wasn’t performing handsprings back over to where she sat. The only reason.

  By some small miracle they managed to get through the rest of the day without tearing each other’s clothes off. As it was, they barely kept their hands to themselves. But there was a sense in the air of something fragile budding. Something new that shouldn’t be rushed.

  Instead they spent the time talking and teasing, watched a couple of movies and discussed what Daniel wanted for the condo. Felicity’s confidence grew as he agreed with several of her suggestions or put his own spin on them. And the fact that he turned positively mule-headed on other suggestions—making her want to smack him—soothed any last doubts that he was just humoring her.

  They decided to check downstairs in the shopping concourse for accessories the next day, before sourcing stuff at their individual favorite stores. Daniel had several pricey designer places in mind, while she planned to introduce him to the wonderful world of dust allergies at the little hole-in-the-wall places she liked.

  After a restless, horny night, she spent a restless morning waiting for him to come home from the office, so they c
ould get started. Then she realized she had nothing to wear.

  With no other choice she called Daniel on his cell to ask if he could grab her a pair of jeans and a top at the Gap on the way home. He knew her size already and she’d repay him when she got to a bank machine.

  So she timed her phone call when she knew he’d be having lunch with VD.

  Sue her.

  Felicity was out on the terrace, enjoying the view of the lake, when a strong pair of arms slid around her waist and warm lips started nuzzling at her ear.

  She turned in his embrace and looked up into Daniel’s smiling face, trying to suppress her happiness.

  “Did you miss me?”

  “About this much.” She held her finger and thumb a smidgen apart.

  “Did I ever tell you how great you are for my ego?” he asked as their bodies swayed to some imaginary music only the two of them could hear.

  “Nope, you haven’t, but I can feel exactly how great I am for your ego.” She bounced her hips lightly off his.

  “I can’t argue with you there.” He grinned. “I have a surprise for you.”

  Felicity reached down and stroked him. “No surprises here,” she teased.

  “Not that, wench.” He gave her a quick kiss then took her hand. “Come with me.”

  She followed him down the hall, limping slightly, but stopped cold at the threshold of her bedroom when she saw the bags piled onto the bed. “What’s all this?”

  “Your surprise.”

  “For me?” Unease rippled through her. “But I just asked you to pick me up a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.”

  “And I did that. Plus a few extras.”

  “I can’t accept this.” She looked at the famous names on the bags, not the least of which were several large bright pink and black ones bearing the exclusive name of Bloor Street’s Holt Renfrew store.

  “Daniel, I can’t afford this.”

  “But I can.”

  Her mouth firmed into a stubborn line, but she eyed the bags again, tempted to at least look.

  Daniel sighed and reached into the nearest one, pulling out a wisp of black lace. He held it up so she could see that it was a pair of thong underwear. “Besides, I think my hair dryer is in danger of shorting out…” His expression was wickedly amused.