On tiptoe, Olivia clung to his forearms and tried not to get the vapors. Kieran Wolff was like hundred-proof whiskey: guaranteed to go straight to a woman’s head.
The night was clear and relatively cool so they decided to walk. The restaurant Kieran had chosen was only a couple of blocks away on a side street around the corner from East 76th.
He didn’t hold her hand. But he did wrap an arm around her shoulders and tuck her close to his side. She felt warm and cherished, and for the span of an evening’s stroll, she allowed herself to knit cobwebby dreams about happily ever afters.
When they arrived, Olivia paused on the sidewalk. “Do you mind if I call Cammie? She’ll be in bed by the time we finish dinner.”
“Of course not.”
Olivia took her cell phone from her purse and punched in the contact info she’d saved for the Wolff house. An employee answered, and seconds later, Cammie’s excited voice came on the line.
“Hi, Mommy. Me and Annalise are dressing up for dinner.”
“Oh?” She grinned at her daughter’s enthusiasm.
“We’re going to be…” A muffled conversation ensued to the side and then Cammie said loudly, “…flappers.”
“That sounds fun. Will you ask Annalise to take a picture for me?”
“Yes, ma’am. May I speak to Kieran now?”
Olivia hesitated, taken aback. Usually Cammie chattered away forever on such a phone call. “Sure,” she said, handing her cell toward Kieran. “She wants to talk to you.”
He blinked, and then smiled, barely masking his pleased surprise. But he hit the button for speakerphone, a thoughtful gesture that made Olivia ashamed of her odd jealousy. “Hey there, ladybug. What’s happenin’?”
“I got to play with your wooden submarine today,” Cammie said. “It’s way cool, and Annalise tried to torpedo me a bunch of times, but I got out of the way.”
Kieran laughed out loud. “Tomorrow morning, ask her to show you the secret tunnel. It’s a little spooky, but a brave girl like you will like it.”
Suddenly the line went silent, but in the background they could hear Cammie’s excited squeal.
Annalise picked up the call. “How are you lovebirds getting along in New York?”
Kieran’s lips quirked. He gave Olivia a rueful smile. “Behave, brat,” he told his cousin firmly. “We’re fine. Should be home by lunch tomorrow. I’ll bring you a dozen bagels if you’re nice to me.”
“Oooh…bagels. Big spender.”
Olivia giggled. “I can do better than that, Annalise. Thanks again for keeping Cammie. Give her a kiss and hug for me.”
They all said their goodbyes, and Kieran took Olivia’s arm. “Ready to eat?”
She nodded, relieved to know that Cammie was happy and content. “I’m starving.”
Patrice’s was delightful, with snowy linen tablecloths, fresh bouquets of Dutch iris and freesias, and a modest string ensemble tucked away in a far corner. Even the lighting was perfect.
Olivia sank onto a velvet-covered banquette and leaned back with a sigh of appreciation. “Order for me,” she said. “I’m in the mood to be surprised.”
Kieran wondered how surprised Olivia would be if he were honest about his intentions. After dinner, he planned to hustle her back to the room and hold her captive there until they were forced to check out the following morning. He’d let her sleep…occasionally. But the sand in his hourglass was running out rapidly, so he didn’t plan to waste a minute.
As they’d entered the restaurant earlier, practically every head had turned, the women’s faces reflecting envy, and the men’s expressions frankly lustful. Olivia was oblivious. How could she not recognize the impact she made? He’d never met a woman more genuinely modest and unselfconscious, especially not one with Olivia’s stunning beauty.
The dress she wore tonight was deceptively simple…a slender column of deep burgundy with a halter neck and a back that plunged to the base of her spine. Her hair was pinned on top of her head in one of those messy knots women managed to create. The only accessory she had chosen to wear was a pair of dangling earrings comprised of tiny ruby and jet beads.
He knew her body intimately, and he was pretty certain she was wearing nothing beneath the sinuous fabric that clung to her body like a second skin.
A waiter interrupted Kieran’s musings. By the time their order was placed, the sommelier appeared to offer a wine selection. Kieran perused the extensive list. “We’ll have champagne,” he said. “To celebrate.” He indicated a choice near the top of the price list.
Olivia propped her chin on one hand and gazed at him curiously. “What are we celebrating?”
“How amazing you look in that dress.”
His sincere compliment flustered her. She straightened and fidgeted, looking at their fellow diners. “Thank you.”
“I mean it,” he said. “You outshine your mother any day.”
“Oh, please,” she huffed. “I could stand to lose a few pounds, my mouth is too wide and my chest is too big.”
He burst out laughing.
“What?” she cried.
“You really have no clue, do you?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” She played with her silverware, refusing to meet his gaze.
“First of all, my naive chick, as far as a man is concerned, there’s no such thing as a chest that’s too big. God in his infinite wisdom created breasts in all shapes and sizes, and yours are a work of art.”
Her head snapped up at that, a small frown between her brows. But she didn’t speak.
“Second of all,” he continued, “just because your mother is petite and thin doesn’t make her more beautiful than you. The camera may love the way she looks, but you are fabulous just the way you are. You’re incredibly feminine and knock-’em-dead gorgeous. Every man in this room wishes he were sitting in my chair.”
Her cheeks went pink. “You’re a tall-tale raconteur, but thank you. That’s very sweet.”
He threw up his hands. “I give up. But know this, Olivia Delgado. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.” As the words left his mouth, he understood just how true they were. She was his ideal woman. And if he were in the market for a wife, he’d have to look no farther.
But he wasn’t…in the market, that is. He was a man destined to travel alone. Despite that reality, he hoped to forge a bond with Cammie this summer that could withstand the long separations. He might not be the best dad in the world, but he would ensure that his daughter knew her father loved her.
Over a meal of stuffed quail and apple-chestnut dressing, they conversed lazily. Though he drank guardedly, the wine went to his head, and all he could think about was getting Olivia naked again. She, on the other hand, seemed content to enjoy the formal, drawn-out dinner.
Finally the final bite of dessert was consumed, the last cup of coffee sipped. Kieran summoned the waiter, asked for their check and waited, fingers drumming on the tablecloth, for Olivia to return from a trip to the ladies’ room.
As he watched her make her way between the carefully orchestrated maze of tables, someone reached out a hand to stop her. Olivia’s face lit up, and the next thing Kieran knew, his lover was being kissed enthusiastically on the mouth by a tall, handsome man in a dark suit.
Feeling his temper rise, Kieran got to his feet. Olivia didn’t even look his way. Now she was hugging the mystery guy and patting his cheek. The waiter had the temerity to block Kieran’s field of view for a few seconds as he provided the bill. Kieran scribbled his name with leashed impatience on the credit card slip and started toward the couple on the far side of the room.
“Olivia?”
She stayed where she was, only now the fellow had his arm around her waist. By the look of things, Olivia’s admirer was dining alone. And in the meantime, trolling for other men’s girlfriends?
Kieran tamped down his annoyance. “Am I missing the party?” he asked, not managing entirely to squelch his pique.
She reached for his
hand. “Come meet someone, Kieran. This is my dear friend, Jeremy Vargas. We’ve known each other forever. We used to be in school together on the MGM lot. He’s here in New York rehearsing for a stint in a Broadway play…during a brief lull between shooting a string of great movies. Jeremy, this is Kieran Wolff, my…” She stumbled, licked her lips and trailed off.
“Olivia and I are seeing each other.” Kieran shook the man’s hand, taking in the firm grip and easy smile that said Jeremy Vargas was confident and in no way threatened by Kieran’s glower. “Nice to meet you,” Kieran said, lying through his teeth.
Vargas might be a stage name, because Jeremy didn’t appear to have a drop of Latino blood. He was the quintessential Hollywood golden boy, blond hair, blue eyes and a killer smile.
Olivia recovered and beamed her approval back and forth between the two of them.
Jeremy continued to embrace Olivia. “It’s a pleasure, Kieran. You’ve snagged a great girl.”
“A great woman.” Was he the only one who noticed the note of over-familiarity in Jeremy’s voice? And did Jeremy know about Cammie?
Olivia finally freed herself from the other man’s proprietary hold and stood beside Kieran. “I wish we’d known you were here. We could have shared a meal.”
Like hell. Kieran suddenly remembered where he had heard Vargas’s name. He was mentioned in the article about Cammie’s birthday party…as Olivia’s date.
Intellectually Kieran knew that Olivia hadn’t been a nun for the past five years. She was a passionate, gloriously beautiful woman. But seeing with his own eyes that other men weren’t blind to her beauty put a sour taste in Kieran’s mouth.
One day soon, when Olivia was ready to expand her white picket fence, perhaps with a second baby on the way, she wouldn’t have any trouble finding men to line up for the role of husband and father.
Kieran brooded on the way back to the hotel. Damn Jeremy and his inopportune arrival. “Have you and Vargas dated?” he asked abruptly, tormented by the fact that she had an entire life apart from him.
“He’s like a brother.” The blunt response shut him up. After that, Olivia was mostly silent. Kieran wasn’t sure if she was sleepy from too much champagne or if she was remembering all the reasons she wanted to keep him at arm’s length.
In their hotel room, he paced, stripping off his jacket and tie, and swallowing a glass of ice water, hoping it would cool him down. Olivia removed her earrings. When that innocent tableau turned his sex to stone, he knew he was in trouble.
He cleared his throat. “Are you ready for bed?”
Twelve
Olivia dropped the earrings on the table. “For bed or for sex?” She met his gaze squarely, no pretense, no games. Her big brown eyes were rich and dark, masking her secrets.
“I want to make love to you.” The words ripped his throat raw. He’d never said them to any woman.
Her face softened as if she read his inner turmoil. “I don’t expect you to change for me, Kieran. You are who you are. I am who I am. We’re two people who met at the wrong time and the wrong place. But we created a child and we have to put her first.”
When he stood rigid, torn between honesty and seduction, she came to him and held out her hand. “Let’s have tonight. Tomorrow will take care of itself.”
He allowed himself to be persuaded. There was no choice, really. If he didn’t have Olivia one more time, he would die, incinerated by the fire of his own reckless passion.
This time, he vowed to give her tenderness. He’d been rough with her earlier, rough and earthy and carnal. What she deserved was a man who would worship at her feet.
He dropped to his knees, heart in his throat. Encircling her hips with his arms, he laid his head against her belly. She had carried his child, her lovely body rounded and large with the fruit of their desire. God, how he wished he had been with her, had been able to see her flesh expand and grow in lush, fertile beauty.
Her swollen breasts had nursed their baby. If life had played out differently, Kieran would have been there to watch. To be a part of something wonderful and new.
Regret was a futile emotion, one he’d learned a long time ago to push down into a dark, unacknowledged corner of his gut. The only important thing was the here and now. He lived for the moment…in the moment.
Olivia trembled in his embrace.
She stroked his hair. The light caress covered his skin in gooseflesh. What he felt for her hurt, reminding him of a dimly remembered anguish from his childhood. Women were soft and warm and wonderful. But loving them meant vulnerability. A man could not afford to let down his guard.
Without speaking, he snuggled her navel with his tongue, wetting the fabric of her dress. Carefully he bunched the cloth in his hands and lifted the long, slim skirt until he could see what had tantalized him all evening. A wispy pair of black lace panties, a thong, which explained why he’d thought she might be naked.
Despite his vow of gentleness, he gripped the thin bands at either side of her ass and ripped the fragile undergarment. It fell away, exposing her intimate feminine flesh.
Her smooth, honey-skinned thighs were scented with the distinctive perfume he’d come to recognize as her favorite.
Olivia tugged at his hair. “You’re embarrassing me,” she whispered. “Quit staring.”
He stood abruptly and scooped her into his arms. “Whatever the lady wants.” As he strode with her into the bedroom, Olivia nestled her head against his shoulder. The trust implicit in her posture dinged his conscience. He had failed her once before. This time he had to do what was right. He wanted the world to know he was Cammie’s father, but if Olivia truly believed that was a mistake, Kieran might be forced to humble his pride and step back.
Retreat had never been his style. But for Olivia, he would try.
Beside the bed he stood her on her feet and, without ceremony, removed her dress. She stepped out of her shoes and put her cheek to his chest, hands on his shoulders. “Thank you for bringing me to New York,” she whispered. “I think we needed this…for closure. I didn’t want bad feelings between us.”
He ignored her comments that intimated a swift and unwelcome end to their physical relationship. “Let me love you,” he said hoarsely, the “L” word rolling more easily from his lips this time. “Lie down, Olivia.”
Stripping off his clothes, he joined her on the bed. When she held up her arms, he couldn’t decide if the smile on her face was a lover’s welcome or the erotic coaxing of a siren, luring a man to doom.
Foreplay wasn’t even an option. That had gone up in smoke during a four-course dinner with Olivia sitting across from him wearing a dress designed to turn a man’s brain to mush. He found a condom, rolled it on and moved between her legs.
Their eyes met. As he entered her slowly, her lashes widened. Her breath caught. Her throat and upper chest flushed with color. He put his forehead to hers, filled with a maelstrom of inexplicable urges.
Half a millennium ago, he would have slain dragons for her, might even have used his travels to bring home chests of gold and jewels. But Olivia didn’t want the knight on the white charger. She was looking for a more stable fellow, perhaps the village miller or the town carpenter.
If Kieran truly wanted to make her happy, he would head out on his next crusade and leave her to build a life between the castle walls. Without him.
The room was silent save for their mingled breathing. He moved in her so slowly that her body seemed to clasp him and squeeze on every stroke. It was heaven and hell. Giving a man what he hadn’t known he needed and in the next breath reminding him that the gift had an expiration date.
He braced most of his weight on his arms, but his hips pressed against hers, pinning her to the mattress. Her hair, fanned across the pillows, made an erotic picture that seared into his brain, never to be forgotten.
As he picked up the tempo, her legs came around his waist. Lifting up into his strokes, she arched her back and took what she wanted. Sensual and sweet, she l
ooked like the girl he had first met on a rainy Saturday in the English countryside. She’d been alone, away from the hustle and bustle of an overcrowded house party, standing in the lane beneath a giant black umbrella, fumbling with a map and muttering mild imprecations beneath her breath.
Why hadn’t he recognized what had landed in the palm of his hand for one brief spring? The vibrant, fragile butterfly that had been his relationship with Olivia....
How had he been so foolish as to crush those wings by his abrupt departure?
She touched his forehead, rubbing at the unconscious frown that had gathered between his brows. “You’ll always be my first love,” she said, gasping as he thrust deep. “No matter what happens next.”
First love. Was that his only role? That and sperm provider?
Gentleness fled, chased away by frustration and self-directed anger. Damn the past. What about the future?
His body betrayed him then, slamming into hers with a violence that shook the bed. Olivia cried out as she climaxed, her eyes closed, her hands fisted in the sheets.
He felt his own orgasm breathing hot flames down his neck and tried to battle it back. But it was too late. Molten lava turned him inside out, gave birth to a shout of exultation laced with surrender, and trailed away, leaving a dark, inexplicable confusion.
Easing onto his back, he tried to corral his breathing. Olivia lay unmoving beside him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“We should get married,” he said, the words coming from out of nowhere and surprising him as much as they apparently did Olivia.
Her body jerked, and she stiffened. “What? Why?”
Because I love you madly and can’t imagine living my life without you. Any version of that response would have been acceptable to Olivia. But Kieran hadn’t read the same script.
He ran a hand over his face and sighed. “It would be good for Cammie, I think. Assuming you’re eventually going to tell her that I’m her father. If you and I were married, all the times I’m gone, she would have the security of knowing that we’re a family.”
A Touch of Persuasion Page 11
