Interior Designs

by Pamela Browning

  There was no awkwardness in their movements, just mounting sensation sweeping over them in waves like the movement of the sea. The warm sun made them languorously slow, and there was no sense of hurry or doubt.

  Above him, the sun limned her in golden light. Dancing rays shimmered through the curtain of her hair as it fell toward him, brushing his chest, and her eyes were liquid gold. He didn't mistake the desire reflected there but understood the message that she found in him exactly what he found in her—consideration, caring, companionship and something more, something transcendental.

  Excitement shot hot sparks through him at the thought that this woman, whom he had wanted for so long, who had held him lovingly when he couldn't control the pain of losing the two who had been most dear to him, that this woman wanted him. It seemed too good to be true, and her desire inflamed his own.

  He found her lips irresistible, her breath sweet and arousing. He pulled her hard against him, stroking the nape of her neck as they kissed, until he felt her trembling before she let her weight fall on him, her breasts crushed against his chest.

  She tried not to tremble so, but she couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the grace with which he touched her and the sheer magnetism of his expression. She closed her eyes and reveled in feelings that she had not known existed. His mouth roamed to her ear, her throat, her eyes, her hair—seeking her out, touching, drifting, pleasuring its way to the top of her bikini, where his breath seared her skin.

  She responded with passion he could hardly have imagined. He could scarcely resist tugging aside the insignificant triangles of fabric that covered her. But no, he could hardly do that here, although the beach was deserted now. Anyone could come along.

  Her voluptuousness, new and startling, almost undid him. The thought surfaced in a flash, a burst of insight: was he falling in love with her?

  He liked her, was fascinated by her, and had longed to pursue her even when she gave him no hope. He knew with certainty that she belonged in his life. All of that was possible without love. The deeply moving feelings he had for her were special and infinitely real—but love? The word encompassed so much that he was reluctant to attach it to any woman, no matter how much he trusted or cared about her.

  He stopped kissing her and let his hands fall away from her smooth skin. The change startled her so that her eyes opened and widened, and she softened upon recognizing the expression on his face.

  The intense emotion amazed her, although afterward she would wonder why she felt amazement when his wonder mirrored her own. Tears stung the back of her throat, but they weren't unhappy tears. In a kind of awakening, Cathryn knew that she wanted this man, here and now, and he wanted her. And it was more than physical satisfaction that they both sought.

  She wouldn't have dreamed that this could happen—everything that she thought she believed was against such a situation developing. But all her fears had dissolved in those moments earlier when he had let down his guard. If he had been able to share his emotions with her, surely she could let down her guard, too.

  Their shared emotion was so deep that she feared to give it a name, although she was familiar, vaguely, with this feeling. A few short months ago she would never have given in to it, but that was before she had found Drew Sedgwick. She'd never met a man like him before. He had proved to her without even trying that he was different—better—than all the rest.

  "We can't stay here," he said hoarsely against her lips, making her body shiver against his.

  "Where?" It didn't matter where, as long as it was private.

  He wrapped his arms around her, tighter, tighter. "Not the house," he said, and she understood. "Come with me," he said, sliding out from under her.

  He stood up and pulled her with him, and deftly he lifted the blanket and shook it downwind. Then, his arm around her, he guided her toward the ancient scrub oak, sturdy and stout, thrusting wide, capacious earth-mother arms toward the sun.

  A ladder led up the trunk and he went up first.

  "A tree house?" she said, following and looking around. It was roofed and enclosed on three sides with the open side toward the magnificent ocean view. Drew pulled pillows covered in bright cotton fabric from a locker and spread the blanket on the floor.

  "A you-and-me house," he corrected her, pulling her down on the blanket beside him. He pressed her head to his shoulder. She blinked her eyes, getting her bearings. It was beautiful here, and quiet. The ocean, white lace spilling upon pink sand, provided the only sound, the cadence of the waves soft as a whisper. A gentle breeze cooled them, and leaves overhead filtered the sun and dappled their bodies with light.

  It began again, the mingling of their bodies, progressing so naturally that it might have never stopped. They wore clothes, but the clothes disappeared somehow, and the surfaces of their skin were no longer separated by fabric. She felt lifted out of herself, unaware of the pillow under her head or the blanket beneath her. The only impression she felt was Drew—his gossamer drifting touch and his lips exploring her body. He evoked sensations that she'd never known existed, feelings she had thought she'd experienced but had never really believed in until now.

  His fingers shaped her breasts to the cups of his hands as his lips continued to explore. The lovely rippling light played over his golden skin, and the shadows brought out the blue-black glints of his hair. She moaned and moved with him, letting him guide her in the direction he wanted her to go. Sometimes she was above him, looking down in rapt delight, and sometimes she was beside him, pressed against his length and tingling where skin caressed skin. Beneath the blanket the curved boards of the tree house bent to their rhythm.

  She thought he would never part the smooth softness of her thighs, never touch the warm, wet moistness there. When he did, his fingers circling expertly to arouse her, she felt no hesitation about letting him see her own desire for him. He gazed at her, his half-lidded eyes sultry, drinking in her passion. His fingers continued to explore her, finding their way in a promise.

  "Now," she breathed, thinking that she could stand the emptiness no longer.

  "Not yet," he said, taking his time, knowing that he pleased her by prolonging the exquisite sensation.

  Finally, when she was sure she could no longer tolerate such delectable torture, he eased them together, pausing for a long moment to let her feel him filling her before moving again, gazing deep into her eyes with an expression of such caring that it moved Cathryn to the depths of her soul.

  She had thought herself incapable of such wondrous emotions. They swept her away, lifting her up and out of herself. She abandoned herself to his intensity and lost herself in it. His expert movements found the throbbing place inside her where her pleasure was greatest. She knotted her hands into fists and arched her back, experiencing a burst of warm waves, the rush of them hot in her ears.

  Then he held her as she spun down from that incredible high, and finally, slowly, gently, he raised her until she was sitting astride. They moved together until, with a hoarse cry, he reached his own heights. Their arms reached out, encircling each other, their salty bodies pressed close. Overhead, barely heard, a mockingbird trilled before it flew away, flashing its white-tipped wings.

  Drew eased her down onto the blanket, arranging her so that her head rested on his broad shoulder, her hair curving across the dark hair on his chest. He touched her bright hair with his lips, tangled his fingers in one strand and drew them through it.

  "When I saw you that night in my store," he said, his lips a mere whisper against her temple, "I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, with your hair gleaming in the dim lights and that distant, untouchable air about you. And then at the reunion, when you pulled away from my kisses, I felt more helpless than I've ever felt with any woman. I wanted you the first time our eyes met."

  She tingled with the memory of the highly charged intensity in that moment of their meeting, when his eyes had first locked with hers—that openness revealing so much of himself in his
first glance. And she'd never been more moved by anything than by Drew's honesty about his emotions. His honesty had ennobled him in her eyes. So far, she had found nothing flawed in him, nothing that wasn't real.

  "I can't believe my incredible luck," he said, and these were words that she had been thinking herself but hadn't had the courage to say. "I would have thought that you would be spoken for," he went on, his voice low and sweet beside her ear. "Why isn't there anyone else? A woman so beautiful, so intelligent—"

  "I haven't wanted anyone—but then, I've never met anyone like you," she said, knowing that this statement made her vulnerable and therefore open to hurt. This time, with this man, she didn't care. Drew wouldn't hurt her. She didn't believe him capable of inflicting pain. He'd endured too much pain of his own.

  Just before she was again whirled into the vortex of this still unfamiliar pleasure, she had barely enough time to think that she had found him only so that she could lose herself in a new and frightening and fascinating way.

  Chapter 6

  Cathryn leaned back in her swivel chair, stretched her arms to the ceiling of her studio and yawned. It had been a long work day, abounding in canceled orders, back orders, and an interminable phone call from one irate client who had decided she hated green after insisting that her house be decorated in every possible shade of it.

  Not only that, but Joseph Miles, an attorney for a reputable nationwide firm of interior designers, had called her long distance from Arizona with an offer to buy Cathryn Mulqueen Interiors.

  "I've never thought about selling," Cathryn had said at once.

  "As you know," the voice on the other end of the telephone countered smoothly, "Designers International is acquiring small firms with a large share of their local markets. We've looked into your business and reputation, and quite frankly, we're impressed. My client would be willing to pay you quite handsomely. I'm sure we could work out terms that would be satisfactory to you."

  "Mr. Miles," she said impatiently, "nothing could be further from my mind than selling Cathryn Mulqueen Interiors. Sell? After working so hard? Of course not!"

  "If you ever change your mind, please call me," Joseph Miles told her, repeating his telephone number once more. Knee-deep in more pressing problems, Cathryn had firmly put his phone call out of her mind.

  Fortunately, such days did not occur often. If they did, Cathryn would forsake a career in interior design for something much easier—like driving a truck or digging ditches.

  The staff of Cathryn Mulqueen Interiors was more than ready to call it a day. Cathryn heard Zohra and Natalie chorus friendly farewells to each other as they prepared to go home, and she smiled at the friendly banter of her delivery crew. And then it was quiet, except for her personal assistant's rustling in the outer office. Before long Rita poked her head in the doorway to tell Cathryn good-night.

  "Good night, Rita," Cathryn replied with a weary smile. "Make sure you call Mrs. Brattigan first thing in the morning, okay?"

  "Sure," said Rita, her gaze taking in the disarray of the papers on Cathryn's desk. "You'll be leaving soon, won't you?"

  Cathryn shook her head. "I doubt it. I want to update the firm's Facebook page with photos of the boutique and—"

  "And you'll be here late. I know." Rita shook her head in a wobble of gray curls. She had been the first employee Cathryn hired, and she was fanatically loyal. But Rita didn't hesitate to speak her mind. "You ought to stop working these twelve-and fourteen-hour days," Rita lectured in exasperation.

  "She's going to. I'll see to that." Drew's grinning face inserted itself into the space over Rita's left shoulder.

  "Drew!" Cathryn smiled up at him. Drew's sudden appearance after a long, difficult day was like lifting her eyes and discovering a rainbow above the clouds.

  "In that case..." Rita said, withdrawing with a bemused look.

  Her heels tapped down the corridor and they heard the click of the latch as Rita let herself out.

  Drew strode into Cathryn's office with a vigor and strength that she had learned was natural to him and a look in his eyes that made her feel weak.

  "So," said Drew, leaning over her desk, supporting himself on his knuckles, "another late night?"

  "I'm afraid so," she said, brushing aside a wisp of hair and liking the way his eyes blazed at her, blue as the heart of a flame.

  "This isn't the kind of late night I had in mind," he said, standing up straight and coming around her desk. "I was hoping for something much more exciting."

  "Such as?"

  "Dinner, and afterward we could go to my apartment. You haven't seen my place yet, and I do want you to design the interior for me. Besides, we haven't seen each other in two whole days, which is about two days too long."

  "Drew, I—"

  "No objections," he said firmly, lifting her out of the chair until she stood in front of him. He didn't release her but kissed her lightly on the lips, a kiss that lengthened and deepened until his arms went around her completely.

  "I was planning to finish here and Google a few things," she protested against his cheek.

  "Google this," he suggested, moving away and smiling at her. "Who's an important and particular client who wants his apartment decorated and can't wait? It has to be done pronto."

  "Pronto? Is that a genuine search term?"

  "More like search-and-rescue," he said, affection shimmering in his eyes.

  Cathryn knew when to give up, and she closed her laptop. "I certainly wouldn't want to lose a very important client."

  "Of course not. When I hire an interior designer, I expect service." He was bent on convincing her that he was more important in her life than late nights in her studio.

  The other offices were dark, and Drew whistled as he followed her down the long hall. "Anywhere special you'd like to go for dinner?" he asked when they were outside on the Via Parigi walking past quaint shops, many of which would not open again until the beginning of the winter season.

  She mentioned a nearby café.

  "Good choice," he said, guiding her elbow with his hand. She glanced up at him, proud to be seen walking on Worth Avenue with Drew Sedgwick. She felt that now-familiar wonder all over again every time she looked at him. The happiness he'd brought to her life was something she could still scarcely believe.

  Since that afternoon in the tree house two weeks ago, they'd been together whenever possible in their busy lives—dinner, lunch, in between—and it still wasn't enough. She had thrown caution to the wind in her relationship with him, though she knew deep inside that she could still be sorry someday. But someday wasn't the wonderful and perfect now, and she was willing to forget that someday even existed.

  Dinner was delicious, but Cathryn was glad when they were in Drew's car driving to his apartment building on the lake side of Palm Beach. She was eager to see it. He'd meant to take her there many times, but they'd always ended up at her place.

  "As I told you, it's a pretty basic setup," Drew said as they rode the elevator up. "Ceiling, floor, four walls in every room. After Talma and Selby left, I was too demoralized to care about furniture or anything else, so my assistant called the home furnishings department at the store and told them to send over the bare necessities. But now that I've burst out of the blue funk I was in, I want something special."

  Cathryn waited while he unlocked the door. Funny, but her fatigue and exhaustion were gone. She felt fresh, eager, alive.

  "It's three bedrooms, two baths, a dressing room," Drew told her, snapping on lights as they walked through.

  "But the rooms are large, and the ceilings are high," observed Cathryn. "And look at the view of Lake Worth!" Across the water, the lights of West Palm Beach winked on and off.

  "I do like the view," Drew agreed, standing behind her and sliding an arm around her shoulders.

  "Then we'll make the most of it," said Cathryn, letting her imagination take over. "And we'll add track lights in clusters to bring out the pattern of that magnificent marble f
ireplace, and we'll take up this carpeting and put down an area rug to define a conversational area in the living room. Maybe a few Egyptian touches, framed papyrus prints or something. Does all that sound good to you?"

  "Anything you say sounds good to me," he said, pulling her closer.

  "How about mirrors on the wall opposite the window to reflect the view?"

  "I'd like that. Actually, I'd like anything you can do to make the place look more like a home. A place where Selby can visit and feel comfortable."

  Cathryn's eyebrows flew up. "Selby? Is she coming?"

  "I'm working on it. I want her to. But not to a place like this. It's presently a bachelor apartment. I'll want one of the bedrooms decorated just for her, but it has to be different from her room at the beach house. When she comes, I want it to be a new start, with no memories from the past."

  "Ah, I see." Cathryn thought for a moment. "How about something more grown-up than her circus room? A room that will take her through her school years to her early teenage years, if that's what you want."

  "She'd like that. Twin beds, I think, so she'll have a place for overnight guests."

  Drew ushered her to the room he had earmarked for Selby. It was a large bedroom with ample closet space, occupied now by nothing but a few cardboard boxes.

  "I'd like to use beds with a half canopy," suggested Cathryn, warming to the thought of designing a room for a small girl. "Maybe we could put bookshelves on the opposite wall. I'll work up the plans myself, Drew. Then we'll look over them."

  "Okay. But you've got to promise not to spend time on it when we could be together. I don't want the work you're doing for me to be an excuse not to see me."

  "Since when," Cathryn replied, kissing him lightly, "do I have excuses not to see you?"

  "Not often," he admitted, taking her hand and leading her back to the living room. "But I don't want you to start."

  She laughed and settled down on the couch next to him. He curved his arm around her and she snuggled close, exulting in the pleasure of their physical contact. She had turned into a sensual woman with him, learning that she loved to be touched and stroked and kissed and made love to in every mood and every setting. Cathryn was astonished at the aspect of her personality that revealed itself when she was with Drew Sedgwick. She had not known that that Cathryn Mulqueen existed.