by JoAnn Ross
“It’s absolutely enchanting,” she murmured, finding it difficult to believe that the city of San Diego was just a couple of minutes away.
Connor took her hand in his. “I’m glad you like it. I wanted this weekend to be special.”
From the huskiness in his voice, Lily suspected that Mac was planning more than a stolen weekend of lovemaking. Perhaps he’d arranged this time away from the others to propose. And, although common sense told her that it was too soon, a deep-seated feminine intuition assured her that she’d never find another man she could love—and who loved her—like Mac Sullivan.
Which was why, sometime between loading the suitcases in the car and crossing the bridge, she’d decided that if Mac did ask her to marry him, she would say yes.
“Mac!” Her eyes widened as he pulled up in front of the magnificent Hotel Del Coronado. “You can’t possibly afford this hotel!”
She gazed in wonderment at the red-and-white Victorian structure that stood as a monument to the gilded past. With its intriguing turrets, cupolas and colorful gardens, the hotel belonged on the pages of a storybook.
“Don’t worry that pretty head about prices.” He leaned across the span between the seats and kissed her. “I’ve been saving my pennies.”
“But—”
He pressed his fingers against her frowning lips. “Just trust me, okay?”
“I do.” The truth vibrated in her fervent tone and was echoed in her eyes, making Connor feel like a bastard for having lied to her all these weeks.
He could only hope that she’d still feel the same way about him on Monday morning.
It was a glorious weekend. One Lily knew she’d remember for the rest of her life. They strolled hand in hand along the beach, basked in the sun beside the gleaming Olympic-size swimming pool, took a walking tour of the hotel—where they learned the building had been originally electrified by Thomas Edison—then rented a boat at the Glorietta Bay Marina.
They shared morning pastries in bed and treated themselves to a fabulous dinner in the Prince Edward Grill, where, the waiter informed them, the special gold-trimmed china had been created for the Prince of Wales for that fatal visit where he’d first met Wallis Simpson.
“Can you imagine,” Lily said later, after they’d returned to their suite, “giving up a kingdom for the woman you loved?”
“In a heartbeat,” Connor agreed without hesitation.
Moved, she touched her lips to his and curled her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. “Have I mentioned lately that I love you?”
“I seem to recall something about that.” Connor’s fingers settled at what was left of her waist. Her mouth was soft and warm as it toyed teasingly with his.
“Good. Because I do.” She drew away again. Just slightly. “Love you.” Her hands were busy at his throat; a moment later, Connor watched his tie flutter away. “Madly.” His cream linen jacket followed.
He’d been planning to tell Lily the truth after dinner, before their return to the city tomorrow. But as she unbuttoned his shirt, pressing her lips against his chest, Connor felt all his good intentions slipping away.
“I love the way you taste.” She tugged his shirt free and ran her hands across his back, causing needs to spread and grow inside him. “And feel.” Returning to the task at hand, she began loosening his snowy cuffs.
Connor froze when she seemed briefly surprised by the gold cuff links, but the moment passed and his white shirt was soon lying on the brocade chair atop his jacket.
“Actually,” Lily continued blithely, taking his hand and leading him to the bed, “I love everything about you.”
Nudging him backward, onto the mattress, she took off his shoes. Once again Connor waited fatalistically for her to realize that ordinary handymen didn’t tend to wear handmade Italian leather shoes, but, her mind set on seduction, she didn’t notice.
She peeled his socks away. Then, unfastening his navy slacks, she drew them slowly down his legs, inch by inch, caressing the bared flesh with her hands, her lips.
When he was finally naked, totally exposed, Lily’s warm gaze moved with infinite slowness over him. He’d never felt more vulnerable in his life than when her thoughtful eyes lingered for a long, heartfelt moment on his obvious arousal.
“Magnificent,” she murmured silkily. She bent down and brushed her lips against the straining tip.
Then, backing up again, she unzipped the gauze dress she’d worn to the earthquake survival party. She stepped out of it, clad only in a silky teddy the color of freshly churned cream. He’d bought the sexy piece of lingerie in a chichi Rodeo Drive maternity shop catering to wealthy California girls who considered pregnancy a natural part of their sexuality.
Connor had liked the teddy when he’d first seen it hanging on its white satin cover. Now, viewing it on Lily, he liked it even better.
“Come here,” he demanded. Hunger made his voice a husky growl.
With a sensual smile Lily did as instructed. She stood there, not moving as he reached out and cupped the warm silk at the juncture of her thighs. Moisture gathered as he stroked her with a knowing touch.
“I wanted to be the one to seduce you,” Lily complained in a voice that was part honey, part smoke.
“You did.” Desperate for a more intimate touch, he unfastened the snaps between her legs. “You are.”
Her head was back, revealing a long slender throat. Her eyes were closed. Her hands were gripping his shoulders as if to keep from falling off the face of the earth.
“But seduction is a two-way street, Lily.” When he slipped his finger into her moist warmth, her body, greedy for more, clutched desperately at his touch. Her hips began to move in concert with his stroking caress.
A red flush, like a fever, spread across her chest. Her eyes were glowing with a passion that matched his own. Her lips were parted, her breathing labored.
Watching as she neared climax, Connor decided she was the most glorious vision he’d ever seen.
“No!” She managed, with a ragged gasp, to free herself from his seductive touch. Determined to regain control, she straddled his dark thighs.
There was a flash of heat as she lowered her burning flesh onto him. Then, matching her fast, frantic rhythm, Connor allowed her to take them both into the flames.
* * *
“I DON’T THINK I’ll ever move again.” She was lying beside him, her smooth silky legs on either side of his, her lips at his throat.
“Sounds fine with me.” He ran his hand down the damp flesh of her back. “But won’t we eventually starve?”
She cuddled closer. He could feel her smile against his skin. “That’s why God invented room service.”
“Good point.” As she lifted her head to smile up at him, Connor captured her mouth for a long, heartfelt kiss. “Lord, I love you.” He couldn’t keep the wonder from his tone. Or his worry.
“I know.” The sweet innocence, laced with love shining in her eyes, made him once again feel about as low as a snake in a rut. “And that’s what makes all this so special.”
“That’s part of it.” He slipped his hand beneath the teddy they’d never bothered to take off and caressed her breast. “Being seduced wasn’t bad, either.”
She laughed, enjoying the moment. Enjoying Mac. When moisture from her nipple dampened the silk, she sighed.
“You realize, of course, that I have a doctor’s appointment on Monday.”
“Two o’clock.” He’d already planned to leave the studio to take her to the Sunset Boulevard medical office.
“You realize, also, that she’s probably going to tell me that we have to stop doing this.”
“Doing what?” He bent his head and gathered in a shimmering drop of whitish fluid from the straining nipple. “This?” Yanking the silk over her head, he began treating her swollen breasts to a torment so sweet Lily thought she’d melt. “This?” His hand moved over her belly. With unerring accuracy, his clever fingers found the ultrasensitive
kernel of flesh and began stroking it to renewed arousal. “Or this?”
How could she want him again so soon? After all they’d just shared? Lily tried to tell herself that her near constant desire for Mac these days was only rampaging hormones, but knew, deep down, that it was something else entirely. It was the man himself. And the love she felt for him.
“You know what I mean.”
“I know.” He kissed her. A long, drugging kiss that literally took her breath away. “But you’re just talking about intercourse, Lily.” His lips plucked enticingly at hers as he lay her back against the pillows. “There are lots of other ways to make love.” His mouth roamed down her throat. Over her breasts. Her stomach. “Let me show you.”
Which is exactly what he did. All night long.
“I hate to go back to the real world,” Lily murmured as they drank a last cup of coffee in the luxurious Palm Court.
“I know the feeling.” He still hadn’t told her. Thinking back on his Mackay Silver King ancestry, Connor figured the old prospector would undoubtedly disown him for being such a coward.
“Look, it’s not that long a drive back to L.A. How about we take a last walk along the beach? There’s something important I have to say to you.”
Although the weekend had been the most wonderful she’d ever known, Lily couldn’t deny that deep down she was a little disappointed that she’d misjudged Mac’s intention to propose. But now, as his fingers tightened painfully on hers, she realized that she hadn’t been wrong, after all.
Loving him for being so nervous, when it should be obvious what her answer would be, Lily bestowed her warmest, most loving, most reassuring smile upon this man she intended to spend the rest of her life with.
“A walk sounds lovely.”
They strolled across the lobby hand in hand. Once outside, they were heading down the steps, toward the sparkling silver sand when it happened.
“Connor?” a voice called out.
Connor froze. Lily, not recognizing the name, continued another step, pausing to look back at him. “Mac?”
“Connor, darling!” A voluptuous brunette had risen from one of the umbrella-topped tables on the terrace and was headed toward them like a steamship at full throttle. “What a surprise! What are you doing on Coronado?”
There was no point in trying to pretend to be a mere look-alike. Not when coming face-to-face with a woman he’d spent three passionate months with five years ago.
“Just taking a few days’ vacation,” he said, aware of Lily’s confusion. Struggling to figure out how to extricate himself from the sticky, tangled web of deceit he’d woven around them, he introduced the women.
Kelly Donovan’s brown eyes flicked over Lily with uncensored interest. “It’s nice to meet you. Are you from the area?”
There was something going on here, Lily determined. Something she couldn’t put her finger on. Although the woman seemed quite nice, Mac was literally radiating tension.
“I’m from Iowa, originally.” Lily decided the gorgeous brunette must be one of Mac’s old lovers. “These days I’m living in Los Angeles.”
“Los Angeles?” A dark brow arched. “How nice.” She turned to Connor. “Speaking of L.A.—”
He saw it coming. But from a long distance away, as if he were looking through the wrong end of a telescope. Time took on the slow-motion feel of an instant replay as Connor braced himself for the inevitable.
“Congratulations on this latest acquisition,” Kelly was saying. “When I heard you were the new owner of Xanadu Studios, I remembered right away how much you loved going to movies and I said, that’s our Connor. If they won’t make the films he wants to see, he’ll simply buy the place and make them himself.”
He didn’t, couldn’t, immediately answer.
“I think you’re mistaken,” Lily said. “Mac works at Xanadu, but he certainly doesn’t own the studio.”
“Mac?” The intelligent brown eyes went from Lily’s earnest face to Connor’s stony one and back again. “Oh dear. I believe I hear my husband calling me,” she murmured. “It was nice meeting you, Lily. Connor, good luck.” With that she was gone.
As she watched Kelly Donovan escaping back to her table, Lily’s whirling mind brought up a distressing sequence of past events.
She remembered Mac’s initial statement that he’d come to Los Angeles on business, recalled the way he’d hedged about what he did for a living and how he’d been deliberately vague when she’d asked about his work at the studio.
She pictured last night’s lovemaking, when she’d been undressing him, and had been momentarily surprised by his knotted gold cuff links. The twins of which she’d bought Junior at Tiffany’s for their first anniversary.
“Mac?” She turned toward him. “What she said...about you and Xanadu...” Her lovely face was as unnaturally pale as the day he’d pulled her from the surf. Her full lips were trembling.
“It’s true.” The words escaped on a long, ragged breath. “You’re looking at the new owner of Xanadu Studios, Lily.”
Even as she knew he was telling the truth, Lily was struggling against believing it. “But C. S. Mackay Enterprises bought the studio.”
“I’m Connor Mackay. The S stands for Sullivan,” he revealed on a low, flat tone.
“Oh, Lord.” She pressed her trembling fingertips against her mouth.
Lily thought about all she’d learned about skip tracing. Had it only been Friday when she’d been so proud of her ability to uncover aliases? Obviously she was not nearly as clever as she thought. But then again, how could she have anticipated this man she’d been foolish enough to fall in love with was using a false identity?
“I trusted you.” Her voice was thin. And fragile.
“I know.” Feeling horribly clumsy, he reached out to stroke her hair. “But, in my defense, Lily, I had a reason for what I did. I know right now, it’s coming as a shock, and—”
His attempted explanation was cut off by a sharp sound like a rifle retort. Lily stared at her hand, as if wondering how it had gotten on Mac—no, Connor’s!—cheek.
“You lied to me.” Her voice had gone as flat as her eyes, which reminded Connor of her candles being snuffed out by an icy wind.
She turned, preparing to leave, when Connor caught her by the arm. “Where are you going?”
“Back to L.A.”
“You can’t go there by yourself,” he argued. “Not in your condition.”
She pried his fingers from her sleeve. “We’ve been through this before. I’m not an invalid. I’m pregnant. Now, if you don’t let me leave, right now, I’ll start screaming. And your old lover can tell all your rich friends how your pregnant lover created a public scene.”
There was enough ice coating her tone to cover Jupiter. Deciding that anger was better than the shock he’d first witnessed, Connor strangely welcomed whatever she wanted to do to him.
“I can understand why you might not want to drive back with me. But if you’ll let me arrange for a car and driver—”
“No!” Her eyes were shooting angry sparks. “I won’t take a cent from you, Mr. Mackay.”
Her frigid formality, after a night of such hot intimacy, caused his own temper to flare. Reminding himself he deserved all this, and more, he tamped it down. “It’ll be a loan.”
“No.”
“Look, you’re entitled to be furious, Lily—”
“How generous of you to acknowledge that,” she said between clenched teeth.
He ignored her sarcasm. “But if you won’t think of yourself, at least think of your baby. You can’t just go walking back to Los Angeles.”
Although she hated to admit it, he had a point. “I’ll take a cab to the bus station.”
“How about the train? We can get you a compartment.”
“We won’t get me anything.” She considered the idea. “But the train does sound more comfortable than a bus,” she allowed. “I’ll have the doorman call me a cab to take me to the station.”
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“I don’t mind—”
“I do.” She folded her arms across the bulge of her stomach. “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself and my baby, Mr. Mackay. So, if you don’t mind, as nice a holiday as this has been, until your former girlfriend blew your cover, I’m going to have to ask you to butt out of my life.”
She walked away without looking back.
Out of the hotel.
But not, Connor vowed, out of his life.
12
TWO DAYS AFTER Lily walked out of the Hotel Del Coronado, Connor was on Long Island, in the heart of Great Gatsby country, driving up a majestic, tree-lined drive that curved through acres of meadows, woods and rolling velvet lawns.
As twilight illuminated the sylvan landscape in a soft, amber glow, Connor could see the stone and slate exterior of Fairview, the Van Cortlandt family estate, rising in baronial splendor.
He parked beneath the wide porte cochere. The twelve foot high double doors were created of gleaming Honduras mahogany. When he pressed the button beside the door, from inside the house Connor could hear the peal of properly British Westminster chimes. The door was opened by a tall blond woman. Her nubby heather gray pleated slacks and white silk blouse portrayed the appearance of quiet wealth. As did the strand of very good pearls that echoed those adorning her earlobes. Her hair was cut in the same sleek society bob his mother had favored for as long as Connor could remember.
Indeed, by outward appearances, Madeline Van Cortlandt and Jessica Mackay could have been sisters. In reality, they could not have been more different. His mother, also born to wealth, was no snob. Indeed, she’d been thrilled to learn that Connor had found someone to love and even more excited about the idea of gaining a daughter-in-law and a grandchild in one fell swoop.
She’d never even thought to ask about Lily’s family ties, and when Connor had volunteered the story about the Padgett family farm, her only comment was regret that it had fallen into bankruptcy and an idle curiosity as to whether Lily would want the family to buy it back. For vacations.
