Her Foreign Affair

by Shea Mcmaster

  “I’m merely accompanying the lady while Mr. Robinson ties up some loose ends.”

  “Very good. If you’ll follow me?”

  He led them down a hall and around a corner. Randi’s heels sank into thick carpeting selected to muffle all sound. In fact, she was loath to speak, fearing the butler might shush her like a librarian would. At a paneled door, he waved a card over a keypad, which activated the doors of yet another elevator. With Larry’s hand on her lower back, she stepped inside. Fiske followed, leaving the bellman with the luggage cart in the hall.

  “I’ll send the elevator back. Take the luggage to the second level,” the butler told the younger man.

  Second level? Weren’t they already on, like, the fiftieth floor? Randi glanced at Larry who merely smiled back. Not bad, in a floppy hair, Hugh Grant-cute kind of way. Careless bachelor, playboy, never-want-to-grow-up type. Not her style at all. All right, so he wasn’t Court.

  “Tip-top service here. Court must like you. Then again, I’m still waiting to hear the story about this daughter. Tell me, she can’t be much older than five, can she?”

  “She can,” Randi answered shortly.

  “No.” Larry held a hand to his chest as if in shock, his summer lake blue eyes wide with mock surprise. A man who obviously smiled often, laugh lines fanned out from his eyes, the curves beside his mouth a bit pronounced. He looked and acted as if he were an old school chum of Court’s. Highly possible, she supposed. All those years ago she and Court had kept to themselves, rarely meeting with groups at the pub. Time had been far too precious, and they’d wanted to be alone. “Court’s a very naughty chap and never breathed a word of it to his oldest friends. I’ll have to severely reprimand him over this.”

  The elevator doors slid open again and Fiske stepped out, graciously waving them into a sleek, modern-looking suite decorated in smoky blue and soft shades of silver and crisp white. Soothing and minimalist at the same time, it smacked of big dollars. Once the elevator was empty, he pressed a button on the wall, and the elevator closed up again. “You can send the lift down for guests from here. The intercom will screen them for you.”

  Taking in the setup, Randi nodded and accepted the card Fiske handed her.

  “Nice,” Larry said. “This way I can’t sneak up on you two.”

  “Larry, you’re an interesting person, but I don’t see you spending much time here.” Best get the point clear right away.

  “Ah, love, that’s where you’re mistaken. Court and I have meetings, and we might as well conduct them here. Will you sit in?”

  “Lord, I hope not,” she said fervently. “I’m on vacation.”

  “Madam?”

  “Yes, Mr. Fiske?” She turned to the butler.

  “Tea is on its way up. We have time for a tour of the suite.”

  “Of course.” With the steel and glass stairs leading to the aforementioned second level, a tour was very much in order.

  “On this level, there’s a full kitchen for use by the culinary team should you wish to dine en suite, a wet bar, powder room, dining, day bed in the alcove.” Fiske led the way, pointing out the million dollar view and showing no sign of his thoughts as Larry followed, taking in the amenities.

  As they neared the top of the stairs, the elevator pinged and doors on the upper level slid open. Court emerged, followed by the bellman with their luggage.

  “Ah, there you are, Robinson.” Larry stepped back and gently guided Randi toward Court.

  “Mr. Robinson, I was just giving a tour of the suite.”

  “Excellent, Fiske. Ms. Ferguson is the lady in charge this week.”

  “Very good, sir.” The butler turned to her. “Which room would you prefer?”

  “The one with the biggest bath tub.”

  “This way.” He waved toward the farthest door. “Everett, the luggage in the master, if you please.”

  “I say, Robinson, there’s room for me here,” Larry said.

  “Not bloody likely, Attenborough. If I see your face before nine in the morning, I may toss you off the balcony.”

  His friend laughed and lifted Randi’s hand. “Fine, I’ll leave you to your tea, but I’ll be knocking on your door at nine sharp. By then I’m sure you two will have your story coordinated. I expect to be entertained.” The brush of his lips across the back of her hand was nice, but not tingle worthy. “Randi, a pleasure to meet you.”

  With great relief, Randi tossed down her purse and kicked off her shoes as Larry and the bellman boarded the elevator and left.

  “Tea will be ready in ten minutes.” Fiske turned and left them alone in the master bedroom also decorated in the same shades as the other rooms.

  “What did you tell him?” Court loosened his tie and shrugged out of his jacket.

  “Not a thing.” Randi turned away from the stunning view and smiled. “Quite an introduction to New York.”

  With a sheepish grin, Court ran a hand through his hair, barely disturbing the short, precision cut. “Certainly one of the more exciting days I’ve had. I apologize…”

  Randi placed her fingers over his lips. “Shh. I understand you didn’t set that up. I’m sure there’s a story there, and I may want to hear it someday but not today. I’m a bit tired and hungry.” Court’s lips were warm, and he kissed her fingers, sending heated jolts into her bloodstream. “Joining the Mile High Club didn’t satisfy you?”

  “Not in the least,” he murmured and sucked her index finger into his warm mouth before releasing it. “Swedish muscle men, darling? Ouch.”

  “Only for toying with when you’re not available.”

  Court turned to kissing her palm and wrist with slow, teasing touches. “I’d better make sure I’m available or see that you’re too tired to go looking for Sven.”

  “The butler is downstairs,” she breathlessly reminded him.

  “So? He’s paid to be discreet. He’s here for our convenience and will adjust to our schedule.”

  “He’s ours for the entire week?” She wasn’t sure what excited her more, the luxury around them or Court’s sensual attentions. Silly. She knew. Court and his kisses.

  “Comes with the suite. Along with a few other things, from what I learned on the way up. I’m sure he’ll be happy to sort out the details with you. All I need is coffee service and lunch during the hours I’m negotiating with Larry. I expect to kick him out by tea time. We’ll do dinner with him one night, but otherwise, I’ll leave the evening entertainment up to you. Just tell Fiske what you want, and he’ll get the tickets and make the arrangements. I’ve told him to get a car with a driver to follow you all over town, collecting your shopping bags.”

  Randi found herself snuggling into Court’s arms as he held her close. The fantasy was every bit as wonderful as she’d dreamed. Better. Too good to be true and too fantastic to last. But for a week she could live the dream. “I could get spoiled by this.” His heart thumped comfortably beneath her cheek.

  “I want to spoil you.”

  “Mmm. Don’t get too caught up in that thought,” she warned him softly and stepped back. That’s all she needed, Court painting pretty pictures in her mind. If anything, this trip had already told her she was ill-equipped to deal with his version of reality. It was one thing to say he wanted to pick up where they’d left off, but too many years had passed, too many changes had taken place. Like her name, that girl of the past, Jean, wasn’t really her. Had she ever been?

  “Why not?” Court followed her, his footsteps silent on the carpeting. In just a few steps, he had her backed up against the elegant four poster bed. A simple wood frame painted a warm gold, it created a splash of color in the room.

  “It will be hard enough parting at the end of the week, let’s not add extra layers of difficulty, shall we?” Cautioning him in advance seemed wise.

  “Who says we have to say good-bye at the end of the week?”

  “Come on, Court.” Closing her eyes, she let him
pull her against his chest. It was a great comfort when she knew the words she had to say would hurt so much. She’d been thinking them all weekend, but the encounter downstairs reminded her of how true they were. “I know I can’t hold you. What you’re used to is so far removed from my life, it’s as if I’d be no more than the village seamstress in your world. That display a bit ago was just one reminder of many that I’m too simple to hold your interest for long.”

  He started to protest, but she pressed a finger to his lips. “You admire, and are used to, clever, sophisticated women, and they adore you right back. I’ve seen it every time we step out into public. It’s not just the women, it’s the whole package. Your everyday lifestyle is so beyond what I know. I’m a suburban mom who lives a very small, insulated life. This world you live in is a fantasy, galaxies away from my existence.”

  Unable to stop him any longer, she didn’t fight when he kissed her fingertip, then dipped his head. “You’re more than woman enough for me. I’m just putting on a big show to dazzle you. This isn’t every day for me, either.”

  Court’s breath at her neck triggered her sexual response. In the back of her mind, she cataloged the physical sensations overloading her nervous system. Weakened knees, moisture between her legs, breath she couldn’t seem to catch, and blood that flowed like hot honey through her veins.

  “Catherine is not so much a woman as a plastic doll. She looks good from a distance, but close up, she’s nothing more than a socialite looking for a bank account to keep her in style.”

  Breathless or not, she had to counter his insistence. “That may be, but she’s obviously the kind of woman you’re used to.”

  “Nice to know what you think of me.” It looked as if he had more to say, but a discreet bell tinkled from below and Court’s frown smoothed. “Ah. Tea must be ready. Let’s go sort things with Fiske; then we’ll get serious about resting up for tomorrow. We’ll also fix your misconception about what sort of woman turns me on and how I hope this week will go.”

  Court’s hand on her waist guided her out the door. “What do you think of having Chinese sent up? Had spicy shrimp lately?” he asked.

  He remembered. Anticipation shimmered in a heated cascade right down her body and settled in her core. “I guess we’d better order extra towels.”

  Chapter 17

  “Is there anything else you require tonight, sir?”

  Court shook his head while walking the older man toward the elevator. “I doubt very much we’ll need you tonight, so get some rest. Madam has an ambitious schedule this week.”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary, sir. When did you want me to arrange for a jeweler to stop by?” Fiske asked quietly, and Court glanced up to the balcony near the master bedroom where Randi was getting ready for dinner.

  “How late will her spa appointment go tomorrow?”

  “At least four. I can tell the staff to drag things out a bit if you like.”

  “She’s signed up for the full treatment already?”

  “Yes, the complete package starting at one. Waxing first, followed by massage and facial, and finishing up with a pedicure and manicure.”

  “And they’ll do it all here in the suite?” Fiske confirmed it with a nod. “Should I take the business meeting downstairs tomorrow afternoon?”

  “If you like, sir, but you’ll never know the spa staff is here. They’re very discreet, and all the services will take place upstairs behind closed doors.”

  “What happened to the good old days of a beauty salon in the basement?”

  The old man finally cracked a smile. “Guests prefer it this way.”

  “Ah well, we must move with the times, eh? All right, let’s not worry about it.” He heard a door open upstairs. “Eight will be soon enough in the morning, unless you have a schedule you must adhere to. As for the jeweler, can we arrange for a meeting about three? Book a small conference room downstairs?”

  “Seven thirty will be acceptable for me, sir. I’ll see what I can arrange for the jeweler. Good night.”

  Court heaved a sigh when the elevator door closed behind the butler. The man had wanted to stay and serve up the Chinese food delivered only minutes ago. It had practically taken swearing on the crown jewels and a promise to leave everything in the kitchen for clean up in the morning before Fiske would leave.

  “Court?” Randi’s voice carried softly down from the upper hallway. “Are we alone?”

  “At last, love.” He pressed a button on the keypad near the elevator. Do Not Disturb. Fiske assured him no one would dream of interrupting them before he showed up the next morning at half past seven. Court was positive Randi hadn’t requested breakfast so early, but apparently, the man needed time for preparation. As long as he did it quietly, Court had no objection.

  Movement on the stairs drew his attention, and he turned to watch Randi slowly descend, wearing only a thin white dressing robe, carrying a stack of towels. The winter sun had long set, and the lights had been dimmed, a few candles lit for a romantic ambiance.

  “The food smells good.”

  “And you look even better.” He moved to the bottom of the staircase and reached for her as her bare feet touched the floor. “Are you sure you don’t want to do this in the bedroom?” Hunger gnawed at him. Hunger for dinner as well as for her. Lucky him, he’d get to take care of both at the same time. He could hardly wait.

  “I’d rather not smell soy and ginger on the sheets all night long.”

  “As my lady wishes. Won’t take me but a moment to reset the table. Fiske did insist.”

  They shared a laugh.

  “I don’t suppose he’d approve of his setting being rearranged.”

  “Doesn’t matter what he approves of,” Court told her. “Come, I’d like to eat while…the food…is still hot.”

  “What about me?” She pouted prettily.

  “I fully expect you to get hotter the longer dinner carries on.” He already trembled on the edge of anticipation.

  “Oh, sir.” She blushed and tilted her face up for a kiss.

  “Come. I’m starving.” He took the towels from her and laced their fingers together.

  “Shall I close the curtains?”

  Court smiled at her. “Why? No one can see us without a very high powered telescope, and even then the lights are low. If they want to put so much work into spying, shouldn’t they have some reward?”

  “All right. Then why don’t I lose the robe? Since no one can see in.”

  “Good plan, but wait, I want to watch.” He pointed toward the entertainment wall. “Why don’t you find us some music?”

  “I’m guessing you’re not talking about hits of the eighties, are you?”

  While she opened the cabinet doors, he set the towels down on a chair and started pulling the plates and silverware off the sturdy dining table with a view over Central Park. Looking north, the park was a dim area with tiny spots of lights peeking through the thick tree branches bare of leaves. The rest of Manhattan shimmered with lights from buildings, street lamps, and the never ending movement of vehicles. “A little blues or slow jazz would work. Or light classical. What do you like for mood music?”

  “Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Ravel always works.”

  He laughed. “Surely we’ve grown beyond something as trite as Bolero?”

  She answered him by finding dark and smoky jazz, a slow sax, piano, and drum trio.

  Once the table was clear of breakables, he turned and met her gaze, equally as dark and smoky as the music wafting from the hidden sound system. “Oh, darling. Now you’ve gone and done it.” The last time his pants had fit this tight was when he’d had her backed up against the wall in her powder room.

  “And what is it I’ve done?” Low and sultry, her voice touched him like a silk scarf being dragged down his body.

  “Now. Slide the useless robe off, and do it now. Nice and slow.” He sat on the sofa and leaned back, feigning a re
laxation he didn’t feel. Her gazed settled on the erection straining against his slacks, and she smiled as mysterious as the woman herself. A smile that surely dated back to the first time a woman realized her power over man. Eve, Cleopatra, and Mata Hari had very likely smiled in this same way. If a man had to fall to his knees to worship a woman, he couldn’t think of any other way he’d want to submit.

  “Like this?” Her hands slowly worked loose the knot of the belt holding the robe closed.

  “Step this way, darling, and hand me the belt.”

  Hips swaying to the beat, she sauntered up to him, stopping when she stood between his splayed legs. The knot slid apart, and the two sides dangled from her hands. “This belt?”

  One end fell across his hand, and he held it between two fingers. “You don’t need it anymore.” Slowly rolling the cloth around his hand, he pulled it loose from one loop and then the other, leaving Randi holding the robe closed over her body. “Now the robe. Dance for me while you ease it off your body.”

  “What kind of dance?”

  “The kind of dance where you stay right where you are.”

  “Mmm.” Eyes twinkling, she moaned and swayed, her legs touching his as she moved. He knew she expected him to watch her body, instead, he watched her eyes as they strayed down his body and back up again. He could see the questions as if they were printed on her forehead. What would he do with the belt? Tie her up of course. How long would he draw out the teasing? As long as he could stand. How much of a certain night did he remember? Every single delicious second. He would show her he remembered it. Had doubts of his intentions, did she? By the end of the week, her doubts would be few, if any remained at all.