Open Invitation

by Tiffany White

  “Is that all?” he asked, coming to her and lifting her chin with his finger.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, her nerves at the breaking point.

  “I’m trying to apologize. Look, I still think my idea is a good one, but you’re right. I should have discussed it with you first. That’s why I came over, as a matter of fact. I want to take you to dinner as my apology.”

  “Dinner…?”

  “You could try to work up a little more enthusiasm. If I were the sort to get my feelings hurt, I’d be crushed.”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to apologize.”

  He mussed her hair. “Yeah, well I’m not the total beast you make me out to be, you know.”

  Amanda began to get the sinking feeling Kyle was even more dangerous when he was nice.

  “Come on, let’s go,” he said, giving her a little nudge.

  She looked down at her clothes.

  Kyle caught her look. “You’re fine as you are. We’re going someplace nice and comfortable. The kind of place you can lean back and kick off your shoes.”

  “Sounds wonderful. I’m starved,” she said, realizing she’d forgotten to eat. Her stomach was having none of her pretense at serenity, so it was just as well. She could relax now and eat; the trickiest part of the evening was behind her.

  When they were on their way, she closed her eyes and relaxed, trying to collect herself after Kyle’s near-disastrous appearance. The next thing she felt was Kyle shaking her arm gently to wake her. “We’re almost there,” he said, turning off the radio, which had been his company while she’d dozed.

  He made a right turn, and she recognized the street. His street. He pulled into a parking spot in front of his place.

  “Why are we stopping at…” Amanda prevented herself from saying “your place” just in time. “This place?” she finished. He might become suspicious of her knowing where he lived. With good reason.

  “This is Chez Fox,” Kyle said with a wink.

  “Chez Fox? Is this where you bring all your babes?” she asked, looking sullen.

  ‘“Babes’?” he mocked, smiling briefly. “No, I never bring a woman here, not one I’m planning to seduce, anyway.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I like the freedom of being able to leave when I choose,” he answered with a shrug.

  Suspicion crept into her voice. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “Why do you think?” he murmured, leaning close.

  Her eyes widened, and he laughed. “Are you always so suspicious? I brought you here to cook for you, what else?”

  “You can cook?”

  “I manage….”

  “Pasta?” she asked hopefully.

  “You’re in luck. That’s my speciality.”

  She was hungry and it would be nice to just relax informally instead of coping with the fuss a restaurant dinner entailed.

  Kyle escorted her to the front door. The minute he unlocked it and ushered her inside, she smelled the perfume and remembered what had been niggling at the edge of her mind since she’d awoken from her nap to find them pulling up to Kyle’s place.

  Before them on the quarry floor lay the scented pale pink envelope. She couldn’t have been more alarmed if it had been a coiled cobra.

  Her mind raced to think of a way to hide the envelope from Kyle. Her eyes searched for a place to surreptitiously kick it into hiding; there was not a piece of furniture or anything obligingly nearby.

  It was too late, anyway. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Kyle reach to retrieve the envelope from the floor.

  Her devilish streak asserted itself, since concealment was lost. Before he could reach it, she snatched the envelope up.

  “What’s this?” she asked with feigned innocence.

  “A fan letter, I suppose,” Kyle answered, taking it from her and laying it on the coffee table dismissively.

  Amanda had a sudden inspiration. “You know, I think I feel like cooking. It relaxes me sometimes. Why don’t you sit down on the sofa and read your fan letter while I putter in your kitchen?” she suggested. Her playful push caught him off guard enough to land him on the sofa.

  Picking up the envelope from the coffee table, she sniffed it mockingly. “Here, read.”

  With that she went off to the kitchen humming, leaving him with the pink envelope in his lap, where she’d so cavalierly tossed it

  Kyle knew she would think it was strange if he didn’t open the letter. At the very least she’d tease him about it unmercifully. So with a great deal of trepidation, he slit the flimsy pink envelope with his forefinger. Pulling out the sheets of stationery, he unfolded them and swallowed dryly.

  Kyle,

  I liked the old set of Theater Talk better. You were so in control sitting in that wing chair in the mock library. That’s one thing we have in common, Kyle. We both like Victorian libraries. There’s something incredibly sexy about them, isn’t there?

  Maybe it’s the red velvet draperies blocking out the real world… the smell of leather book bindings… the darkened shadows… the special books hidden under lock and key….

  Let’s pretend again, shall we, Kyle? It’s winter. You live in a very old country manor house next door to our family. In fact, you’re my father’s counselor. You do a lot of legal work for my father, and you’ve begun to notice me.

  You know who I am, don’t you, Kyle? I’m your neighbor’s spoiled daughter. So very spoiled, and I’ve been teasing you, haven’t I? Unmercifully. But you’re ten years older than I am. And you would never betray my father’s trust, would you?

  But you want to, don’t you Kyle? You’ve wanted to for some time now.

  There’s someone at the door. You’ll have to answer it yourself. The help is off for the holidays, and you’re all alone in the big old manor house. Hurry and answer the door.

  Are you happy to see me, Kyle? I’m home from school for the holidays. My father sent me to deliver some papers he wants you to look over before he adds his signature. Why don’t you ask me in to warm myself by the fire in your library? It’s very cold outside. The snow is swirling around capriciously behind me as the wind howls its fierce, chilly moan.

  Thank you for inviting me in, Kyle. The fire feels so warm against my bare, windburned knees. Aren’t you going to offer me a sherry? I need a little courage for what I’m about to do….

  Thank you.

  You don’t mind if I take my coat off, do you? See, I’m still in the uniform of the private girls’ college I attend. As a freshman, I have to wear it all the time.

  It’s very frustrating going to an all-girl school. I can’t wait to change out of my school uniform. My white knee socks are constantly slipping down. Oh, you noticed?

  Do you mind if I look around your library? This room is so masculine, Kyle. So very like you. And look, you even have a ladder sliding along one wall so you can reach the books hiding on the top shelves. What kind of books do you keep up there, Kyle? Mind if I climb the ladder to see…?

  Darn, my knee sock has started to slip again. I don’t want to let go of the ladder. Would you mind terribly pulling it up for me, Kyle?

  Kyle? What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?

  There, that’s better. Thank you.

  Maybe it’s better if I come down the ladder. Kyle, what’s the matter? You don’t look too steady. Here, let me loosen your tie. You look so uncomfortable…. Why, Kyle, you’re breathing hard. Are you sure you’re okay?

  Well, if you’re sure…. I did come inside to warm myself by your fire, didn’t I? Why don’t you put another log on the fire and let’s get a big blaze going. There, that’s better. I love the way hickory wood smells and crackles in a roaring fire, don’t you?

  I know all about you, Kyle. I know all your secrets.

  You’ve sworn to yourself that you’re not going to touch me, haven’t you, Kyle?

  But what if I want you
to touch me?

  Do you remember that child’s game, “Do you trust me?” Well, I’m going to trust you. I’m going to let you do anything you want to me…with your hands, Kyle. But only with your hands. You can’t kiss me or anything else. You know you want to. You know I’m not a kid. I’m nineteen and I’ve been away to school.

  Umm… this fire feels so good and warm, Kyle. Why don’t you come closer to the flames and feel the heat. I’m going to face the fire and place my hands up here on the mantel and keep them here. I’m going to stare into the fire and wish you were behind me.

  Oh! You are.

  I’m a woman, aren’t I, Kyle? That’s right…you have free access to my body with your hands. I won’t stop you. My hands will stay up on this mantel as though they were handcuffed there. My wool school sweater is itchy against my bare skin. Bare skin, Kyle.

  That’s right. There’s nothing beneath the wool sweater you are rubbing against my breasts but tender skin aching to be touched. Aching, Kyle.

  Feel how your caress of my sweater against my breasts has teased my nipples to hard pebbles. Don’t you want to slip your hands under my sweater and glide your long, sensitive fingers to the waiting pucker…?

  Yes…. That feels…sooo good. Caress me with your gentle touch. I can feel the smooth nail on your thumb rake playfully across the peak, and I want you to twist it between your fingertips. A little harder. Yes, like that…exactly like that. Oh…Kyle, I’ve always known you could pleasure me.

  I want to feel your mouth’s wet caress where your hands are. But no, I won’t give in to that desire. Put that thought from your mind or banish it to the edges, where it will hover as you cup and caress me and breathe sweetly against my neck.

  No, I won’t turn around and look at you. I can’t. But, please don’t stop. Let your hands wander where they desire. The skirt of my school uniform is rather short, the full pleats granting you easy access to my thighs. All that field hockey we are forced to play at school has made them very firm, don’t you agree?

  Where are your hands sliding now, Kyle? Are you surprised that my cotton panties are bikini? It makes things easier, doesn’t it? I love feeling the slight pressure of the elastic against my belly. I can’t move my hands, remember. Why don’t you just pull my panties down…. No, don’t take them off. I don’t want to undress. Just leave them tangled at my knees.

  Now, cup the heel of your hand against my pelvis. Come closer, Kyle, and dip my back toward you…. Touch me….

  Please… like that. Yes….

  I really must go, Kyle. Daddy will be wondering what’s kept me.

  We’ll play again, Kyle….

  Kyle put the letter down guiltily, expecting to find Amanda standing over him in disapproval, but she wasn’t. She was still in the kitchen; he could hear her banging pots around, and the sweet, spicy aroma of tomato sauce wafted in and made his mouth water.

  Suddenly he had an appetite. Not that his other appetites weren’t already achingly aroused. He sat there a moment, willing evidence of what he was sure Amanda would view as his depravity to go away. He had an overwhelming desire to kiss her. Amanda had been the girl in the fantasy as he’d read, but there had been no clue to give away the writer as he had hoped. So much for his suspicions.

  When he could walk, he got up and locked the letter in his desk drawer with the other two. It wouldn’t do for Amanda to pick it up and read it. Much as he would like to think Amanda had been the writer, he was sure she’d be shocked at the blatant sexuality in the writing.

  With the letter safely tucked away, he went off to the kitchen, following his nose to the bubbling, spicy sauce cooking on the stove.

  He pulled up short when he saw Amanda. She was a sight. Her face was flushed from the steaming water she was preparing the pasta in. Tendrils of her brown hair were coming down from her topknot to lie in wispy layers around the slim column of her neck.

  Kyle wanted to lift those tendrils and create a pathway for his lips on her skin, so soft…inviting. He slipped into a sexual trance.

  Amanda had been wondering what effect her fantasy letter was having on Kyle. This was her first chance to see his immediate reaction up close. It hadn’t occurred to her until she’d picked up the envelope that she’d wanted to.

  She felt him watching her and looked up. His glazed eyes and sheepish smile told her all she needed to know. He’d liked the fantasy—he’d liked it a hell of a lot. The way he was standing wasn’t concealing his arousal very effectively. She tried not to take the scenic route. She wasn’t very successful.

  The room grew smaller…airless…as they stood watching each other.

  “Do me a favor, Amanda.”

  Kyle’s voice was needy, rich with passion. It flowed over her as she waited for him to ask of her the favor she would be powerless to deny him in that moment.

  “Put down that French bread you’re buttering…and come here.”

  She didn’t move.

  “I said, come here…” Kyle’s voice was husky, demanding.

  “Just a minute. I’ve got garlic butter all over my hands,” she said, impatiently looking around for something to wipe them on.

  Kyle was beside her in two strides. “To hell with the garlic butter. I want—need—to hold you…now.”

  Amanda held her greasy, fragrant fingers wide of him as he took her face in his hands and nibbled once before attacking her mouth again and again with eating kisses.

  He came up for air, then grabbed her hand, sliding his flattened tongue up her palm and plunging her buttery fingers into his warm, moist mouth.

  Amanda shivered.

  “This…this is what I wanted, Amanda, at the movie theater when our hands kept sliding against each other in the hot, buttery popcorn braced between my thighs.”

  Amanda’s eyes grew wide and bright.

  His lips moved to her neck, licking the edges of her silk blouse, edging closer to the subtle cleavage.

  “No, don’t. I’m ticklish,” she pleaded, trying to slap his hands away from the tie there, until she remembered the garlic butter still coating her fingers.

  He moved back to her mouth and buried his tongue deep inside, eliciting a breathy moan of desire from her. She didn’t give a damn suddenly that she was smearing him with garlic butter as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He backed her up against the refrigerator. Tremors of desire raced along every circuit of her body, tripping every alarm, ringing for an uncaring guard.

  “Oh Amanda!” Kyle whispered hoarsely, burying his face against her neck. He ground his hips into hers. “I’m so hot for you.”

  Amanda froze. Reality intruded with Kyle’s words. He wasn’t hot for her. He was hot for whoever had written him the fantasy letter. She had written it, of course, but he didn’t know that. It could have been anybody. She was just handy, a convenience. He didn’t have the same deep feelings for her that she was just now realizing she had unfortunately developed for him.

  She twisted from his embrace and raced for the living room.

  The pot of pasta on the stove started boiling over, hissing and sputtering like a disapproving chaperon.

  Kyle stopped just long enough to turn off the gas beneath the pot.

  Amanda scooped up his keys from the coffee table in front of the sofa, where Kyle had dropped them. Her hand was on the front doorknob when he reached the living room.

  “I’ll drive you home,” he said quietly, crossing the distance between them.

  “No. Please. I’ll see you get your car back in the morning.”

  Kyle looked into her teary eyes. “Amanda, what just happened… I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.” He wiped a tear from beneath her eye with a swipe of his unsteady hand.

  He was even more dangerous when he was nice.

  While she still had the will, she turned and fled.

  CHAPTER SIX

  KYLE SPENT THE REST of the evening trying to forget how very good Amanda had felt in his arms
. Needs he had long repressed surfaced, bringing painful memories and feelings he’d wanted to keep buried like the treasure of some long lost pirate ship.

  Countless times he reached for the phone to call her, but not once did he allow himself to follow the urge. He knew better than to let his heart rule his head.

  Amanda had gotten past his better judgment, was all. Perhaps because he had tired some time ago of casual affairs. Not just because they were no longer prudent, but because he’d also come to realize he couldn’t live his whole life in pleasant anesthetization.

  What was he going to do about her? He had felt the attraction humming between them from the beginning, but he’d denied it to himself, still remaining closed to his feelings. Her responses to his caresses had been those of a hungry woman. But was that all it was—hunger? Would any man have done? At one time that wouldn’t have mattered to him, but not any longer. He wanted Amanda to want him and only him.

  He had to stop tormenting himself with her.

  By the amount of wine left in the bottle, he judged it was a few hours after midnight. He went to his desk and unlocked the drawer where he kept the fragrant fantasy letters. He was unshaved, morose and frustrated as he carried the letters to the sofa, where he lay down to read them. When he finally drifted off to sleep, the third fantasy letter slipped from his fingers to flutter to the floor.

  His dreams mirrored the fantasies, but they were all of the woman he was trying desperately to dismiss.

  AMANDA SPENT THE NIGHT trying to sort out her emotions. She was in love with Kyle. She wanted him in ways she hadn’t imagined. With Kyle it could be the stuff of fantasy. But she was very much afraid it couldn’t be the real thing.

  He hadn’t shown any sign of being the kind of man who made the forever kind of commitment. The kind of man she knew she ultimately needed for true happiness.