Her breathing pitched as she realized this could be it. The last time they ever made love. She fought against the intense desire to close her eyes and lose herself to sensation and abandon, opting instead to watch him as he watched her, seeing as his world came apart with each thrust.
"I'm here," he whispered hoarsely between thrusts. "I love you."
"I love you, too," she cried, and she could no longer keep her eyes open. She burst, suddenly blinded and winded in a frenzied release that had her fingers clenching at his skin, pulling and digging with unnatural strength. It was like being opened from the inside out, an exploding kaleidoscope of delirium that wrecked her body with wave after wave of splendor. When James followed her throat sang in celebration, her body rippling with rejoice and exaltation.
He stayed inside her until their breathing settled, his head buried in her neck as he held her. She could still feel his pulse resounding inside of her, echoing against the calming beat of her own pulse sparking the over-sensitized muscles between her legs. She was slick with sweat, warm all over and exquisitely satisfied.
When James finally lifted his head to look at her the smile of pure contentment on his face filled her with joy.
"I think we may have woken your roommates," he said with a strained chuckle.
"Good. I hope they're listening at the door. That's what I would do."
"So you like to watch and listen?"
Natalie dissolved into a fit of laughter. It was as though she was caught watching another couple all over again, her hands gripping the stone hips of a Venus statue in the garden of The Golden Palm while a Candidate and her bidder had animalistic sounding sex in the gazebo. That was the moment she realized she liked to watch, and it was a revelation, though one she hadn't yet had the opportunity to repeat since.
She was calmed by the almost dreamy look on his face. He was too handsome for words and positively devastating with the post-coital glow of happiness, but he looked at her like she was a fantasy turned reality, and it left her reeling.
"I want to marry you, Natalie Harlow."
"I told you. I've-"
"Done things," he finished for her. "So you said." He nodded as though he understood or even accepted it, but she knew better. "Tell me what you did that was so bad."
Natalie reached up and tucked a short lock of hair behind his ear. "I can't do that."
"Why can't you?"
"Because I've not finished doing it yet."
The skin between his eyes pinched. "What does that mean?"
She sighed heavily. She was confident no tears would come this time, that she could explain it to him as much as she wanted to without the hysterical crying she dissolved into earlier.
"It means that I started down a path that I can't turn back from. And once I've come to the end, that's where you'll decide you don't want me anymore."
He propped his chin up on his hand and eyed her with growing suspicion. "So this bad thing... it's something you want to do?"
"Yes."
"Even though you believe it will change how I feel about you?"
"Yes."
"Then why do it at all? Or to begin with?"
That was the $64,000 question. She shrugged and could think of no other answer than, "Because I can't help myself. I told you that I'm not the same Natalie who was Candidate Four."
"Oh, Natalie," he sighed. "Does it not occur to you that I would love you still even if you were at your worst?"
She shook her head. "No. How could you love the worst version of someone?"
"Because I love all the versions of her," he whispered before kissing at her cheek, "from the best," he kissed her chin next, "to the worst." He kissed her lips last and lingered there a moment.
"I guess we'll find out."
"Tell you what, Natalie-" They both winced as he pulled out of her. She welcomed the cool fresh air against her overly warm skin as he picked himself up from on top of her and sat at her side. She leaned against her elbows, unabashed by her just-fucked nudity, and looked up at him expectantly. "Let's make a deal."
"A deal?"
"If when the time comes it turns out that you're right - that I'll somehow love you less or not at all once I've found out what awful thing or things you've done - I'll buy you a Bugatti."
"James-"
"And if I'm right," he interrupted her, "and I still love you at your absolute worst, then you have to give me an answer to my proposal."
She wanted to be annoyed that he so obviously wasn't taking her seriously, but his self-assuredness was admirable, even if it was misplaced.
"You're that confident in your love for me?"
"Absofuckinlutely," he said without so much as an instant of hesitation. "What do you say, Harlow, do we have a deal?"
What if he was right? What if, after discovering she wasn't the Natalie he fell in love with, he still loved her anyway? She wasn't sure she could forgive him were the roles reversed, especially given how much pain she still felt over the fact that he had slept with his soon-to-be-ex-wife and the resulting pregnancy, even though that happened after their night together at The Golden Palm and before their reunion five months later in Las Vegas. He may have slept with her, but he never forgave her for cheating on him, Natalie reminded herself. Was she really all that different from Celine Robertson-Fitzgerald? Natalie never deceived him into believing he was the father of her child for years. That was worthy of not being forgiven as far as she was concerned.
She just didn't know. All she had was her gut instinct and the tiny niggle of doubt that had now been planted like a seed within her mind. Maybe he could forgive her, and love her once he knew?
"Deal," she agreed, though it was with a heavy heart and a conscience already primed for the avalanche of guilt that would surely follow.
"I've got to go before Frankie realizes there's a babysitter there with her instead of me."
She watched him dress in his tee shirt and jeans after slipping back into her own comfortable clothing. She took in the sight of his sun-kissed body as though for the last time; appreciated the cut of his abdomen, the way his pants hugged his hips, the thick veins that crawled like vines from his hands up his forearms. She tried to commit to memory the sound of his voice and the faintest touch of his accent. She could still feel the distinctive shape of him inside of her. He was not a man she would ever forget, and if it was truly their last night together, she knew she would spend the rest of her life measuring every single man to one Mister James Fitzgerald.
"Hey," he said, taking hold of her arm and breaking her from her thoughts. "I can't imagine a better way to spend a last night with you."
"So you admit it was a booty call?"
She would miss the way his gorgeous eyes lit up with his smile - a smile that could charm the pants off even the devil himself.
"Good night, Natalie."
"'Night, James."
He pulled her in close and kissed her chastely on the lips, then whispered against them, "I love you." He didn't wait for a response, but turned and headed out the bedroom door with Natalie following behind him.
The first ribbons of morning light were touching the sky as Natalie locked the deadbolt behind James' departure. Too awake to sleep, she made herself a fresh cup of coffee and set to work on her laptop, preparing for the day ahead. The next time she looked up it was into Quinn's eyes and mischievous smile.
"For the record, I was only tempted to listen at the door.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
James strode into the executive floor of Fitson Entertainment Groupe with a lightness he hadn't felt in far too long. He'd only managed an hour or two of sleep upon returning home from Natalie's condo, but not even fatigue could take away from his bliss. He had spent the night with Natalie Harlow, held her in his arms and made love to her as though the months since their breakup never happened at all. In the morning light of day after one of the greatest nights of his life, he had no doubt that soon everything would fall into place exactly as it w
as meant to. Natalie would take her rightful place in his world again sooner rather than later, and he in hers.
He needed to share his good mood with someone. He veered right at the double-door entrance to his office and headed down the short hallway to Audra's instead.
"Yes, one hundred of the lilac colored ones. Sterling, that’s it. Long stem. Bill it to Audra Robertson at Fitson Entertainment Groupe. Please call upon confirmation of delivery. Thanks." Audra turned in her chair and startled at the sight of him standing in her doorway. "Fitzgerald, are you actually smiling?"
"Don't act like you're unfamiliar with the concept of being happy, Robertson." He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he took a seat across from her desk and raised his eyebrows expectantly. "I'm assuming from that rather expensive floral arrangement you just ordered that your date went well the other night? Or not as well as you expected?"
"It was fine," she said dismissively.
"You must really like her."
Despite the tight seal of her lips Audra's eyes were dancing. In the more than ten years they knew each other James could probably count on both hands the number of times they divulged the intimate details of their relationships with one another. She likely heard more than she ever wanted to from her sister about her marriage to James, and thus he never felt obligated to provide any more information than that. For Audra's part, James just assumed that she was uncomfortable talking about her love life, most likely due to the fact that she never officially came out to her family. He knew she was gay within two minutes of meeting her, and she was the only woman in the world with whom he could have a true friendship without the complication of romantic interest. She was beautiful - even more beautiful than her sister Celine, though he'd never tell either of them he thought so - and it was enough for him to feel close to a woman so beautiful without the entanglement of feelings. More than anything he just wanted her to find happiness.
"I do really like her. Unfortunately, I'm not the only one in her life."
James had to cover his surprise by brushing his fingers across his face. "Tell me."
"What's to tell?" She sighed as though resigned to some fate that had yet to been determined. "It won't last so I'm making the most of it while I can."
"That's a shitty attitude if I ever heard one," he grunted.
"No, Fitzgerald, that's reality. Some people-" she gestured to him, "get the happy endings. And some people don't."
"Why even bother?"
"Because she might be worth it even if it's just in the short term. And God knows I can't help myself."
Hmm. "That's odd."
"What's odd?"
James shook his head. "Natalie said something almost exactly like that."
"Did she?"
He nodded thoughtfully. "There's something going on with her, but she won't tell me what it is."
"Don't worry, Ken, I'm sure Barbie will return to the Dream House soon enough."
Ugh. James rolled his eyes as he stood and buttoned his suit jacket again. "Good luck with your flowers. I hope they serve their intended purpose and get you laid."
Audra narrowed her eyes and regarded him coolly. "You know, I expect that kind of grossness from the average, garden variety man, but I expect better from you, Fitzgerald."
He held his hands up at his side as if to surrender. "You're right. That was out of line. I'm sorry." He leaned across the desk and grabbed her hand before she could pull it away, and brought it to his mouth for a quick kiss. "But I still hope you get laid."
"Ugh, get out of my office you charming bastard!"
"Um, excuse me?" came a voice from the entrance.
James turned and thought for a moment he was looking at Natalie. Her long hair had the faintest tint of red to it, and she shared Natalie's creamy complexion and curves, but the similarities ended with her eyes, which were more aquamarine than silvery blue.
"Can I help you?" Audra asked, standing from her desk.
"Hi, I am so sorry to bother you but there was no receptionist at the front desk and I was told I could find Mister Fitzgerald's office here?"
"I'm James Fitzgerald. And you are?" He held his hand out to her.
"Amelia Cloud," she said as she shook his hand. "I'm Natalie Harlow's personal assistant? Her new personal assistant," she quickly corrected. "I was hired yesterday. Actually I was hired by a child who asked me to name four of the six noble gasses before she would even look at my resume."
"Ha!" Audra laughed so loudly it made both James and Amelia Cloud jump. "Your child would do that!"
"Yeah, that sounds like my daughter," James grimaced. "Sorry about that. But congratulations on getting the job! I assure you my daughter is an excellent judge of character. This is Audra Robertson," he introduced.
Audra rounded her desk to shake Amelia's hand. The poor girl looked both stunned and frightened.
"James Fitzgerald and Audra Robertson, as in Fitson? Oh, gosh, I am so sorry for just wandering into your office!"
"No worries, Amelia. Natalie Harlow is practically family." Audra said as she took a seat next to James leaning against her desk. "What can we do for you?"
Amelia's fingers fidgeted in her clasped hands. "Miss Harlow asked me to come collect the key to The Golden Palm from you, Mister Fitzgerald."
James glanced at his watch. "Already? The presentation isn't until tonight."
"Ah, yes!" Amelia reached into her purse and fished out a leather-bound organizer, opening it to a page that, even from his vantage point, James could see was completely filled with the neat script of her handwriting. "The set dressers are coming by within the hour to take measurements for fabric and lighting installations. Catering is coming by to set up at eleven shortly before cast members start arriving at noon. We are still waiting on the fire marshall to get back to us for a quick inspection before the presentation."
"I'm sorry, did you say the fire marshall?" James interrupted.
"Yes." Amelia resumed going down her list, citing at least half a dozen other items, each one crazier than its predecessor. James looked to Audra to see if she was as incredulous about what was happening as he was. "Oh! And before I forget!" Amelia reached into her purse again and pulled out two thick black envelopes, handing them one each.
"What are four of the six noble gasses?" Audra asked. She looked absolutely amused by the spectacle before them, while James felt like he was standing on a spinning plate.
"I have no idea!" Amelia laughed. "I told her I majored in communications and minored in art history so she changed the question to naming the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World."
Yep. My daughter would.
"Well? Go ahead," Audra encouraged, much to James' surprise.
"The Great Pyramid of Giza. Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Temple of Artemis at Ephesus. Statue of Zeus at Olympia. Mausoleum at Halicarnassus. Colossus of Rhodes. And the Lighthouse of Alexandria."
There was a solid minute of silence before Audra cleared her throat.
"Well, this has been fascinating. Amelia, it was very lovely to have met you. I have no doubt we'll get to know each other very well over the coming months. James, your key?"
James quickly unfastened his key to The Golden Palm from his keyring and handed it to Amelia, who palmed it with a gracious smile. She said a quick goodbye to each of them and scuttled out of the office, back to Natalie and whatever the hell she was planning for what was meant to be a rather straightforward presentation.
"Fascinating," Audra mumbled to herself as she sat back down at her desk.
"Which part?" he asked.
"The part where your daughter found the Skipper to Natalie's Barbie."
Several hours later the odd specifics of Natalie's list for her presentation that night were still on James' mind, distracting him to the point of forgetting he had a meeting scheduled with his realtor, Michael. The man was still riding high off the undoubtedly enormous commission he was about to make from the sell of Villa Montecito, and was thus doubly blissful at the prospect
of James signing off on yet another property that afternoon.
"It's a contemporary Mediterranean style home. Very beautifully appointed. Three bedrooms, three bathrooms and over 2,400 square feet. All original hardwood and brand new, top of the line fixtures. It's perched above the street. Single-story so you don't have to worry about kids on staircases."
The pictures were indeed beautiful, but James didn't really care. It wasn't his house he was buying. "And they like it?"
"Oh, they were both quite taken with it. Caroline and young Miss Frankie had your ex-wife on FaceTime throughout the entire tour and she was very specific in all of her questions. It is a beautiful family home. Of course it's not Villa Montecito..."
"No, it's not," James sighed wistfully. "If Frankie likes it I'll sign for it. You said it's under two-mil?"
"One seven-nine-nine," Michael nodded.
"Put in an offer for one-five, but go as high as asking if you need to. I wouldn't want them to think I'm low-balling them."
"Of course, Mr. Fitzgerald."
"Great. Houses for everyone," he replied sardonically as he signed his name on the offer paperwork. One more house and he would start to feel like Oprah.
"Fantastic! I'll call you the minute the offer is approved."
"Thanks so much. I'll have my inspector contact your office early next week."
"Very good, sir."
"Oh, actually there is one more thing you could do for me. If I give you an address can you look into who owns it, who is making the payments, how much it's worth, so on and so forth?"
"Of course."
James nodded and considered his options. He wasn't one for spying, but his curiosity had been getting the better of him lately. He reached for a pen and a piece of paper and scribbled down an address before handing it off to the agent.
"I'll see what I can find out for you."
"Thank you."
As James showed Michael to the door the intercom on his desk buzzed to life.
Beyond Ruin (Book Four of the Bidden Series) Page 13
