“Okay.” She felt completely stupid for momentarily thinking otherwise. She gave a curt nod and turned to leave.
“I can’t wait to see how it looks.” Talib smirked before Misha slipped out of the room.
Talib figured conversation should remain the order of the evening. He could barely think of anything other than touching Misha, which would only result in them going back to his condo (or her suite) and forgetting the night’s charity event.
“Thanks for coming tonight, love.”
“Isn’t the limo a bit much?” She rubbed her hand across the gray suede seating.
“Trust me, anything less would be out of place with this crowd.”
“At least the museum people know they’ve invited some deep pockets.”
Talib glanced past the window at the glamour they approached. “The Arizona Symphony concert will donate its proceeds tonight to the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum.”
Misha whistled. “Deep pockets indeed.”
Talib propped his arm along the back of the seat. “We’ve been a couple of idiots, Mish.”
“I’d like to think we’ve grown a little recently.”
He took her hand and began to circle his thumb in her palm. “We’ve probably still got a ways to go.” He brought her hand to his mouth. “Maybe we could do it together.”
Misha was skeptical. “Fate may have other plans, Tali.”
“It often does.” His probing charcoal stare was trained on her elaborate updo that allowed none of her loveliness to be hidden. Appraising the fullness of her mouth, he leaned in to kiss her.
“They’ll be opening the door in about two minutes, sir.”
“That’ll work,” Talib whispered in response to the driver’s announcement. His tongue outlined the pout of Misha’s lips seconds before it invaded.
She melted the instant his tongue stroked hers. Limp, her fingers toyed with the lapels of his tux. She whimpered, feeling his expert touch investigating the dress—familiarizing itself with every snap or button of which there were few. She began to thrust her tongue hungrily against his.
Moments later, it was Talib pulling away with a hushed curse on his lips. He reached for his handkerchief and fixed the damage to her lipstick.
“You look like you’ve just been kissed,” he said.
Misha took the handkerchief and wiped a bit of lipstick from his cheek. “Is it a good look for me?” she asked.
“The best,” he confirmed, seconds before the passenger-side door opened.
The orchestra was superb and Misha lost herself in the music and the atmosphere. Talib had box seats to the event, which made the already exquisite experience even more captivating.
“This must’ve cost you a pretty penny,” she whispered, fidgeting some when she felt his fingers at her dress’s split.
“Anything for charity,” he replied.
The program ended to a round of uproarious applause. Several people spoke to Talib when the lights brightened and the audience began making its way to the ball that was about to begin below. Misha felt her head spin when he introduced her to everyone who shook his hand.
“So how’d the talk go?” she was asking later while they were swaying to an incredibly romantic, hypnotic piece of music.
A last-minute snafu earlier that day sent Talib into the office to mediate a conversation between Blaine and Ducker Conrad.
“It wasn’t pretty, but it was effective.”
“Do you think things will get better?”
Talib sighed. “Not from one conversation, but now the door’s been opened.” He toyed with the diamond stud in her ear. “I think they’ll both step through it. Only time will tell whether they’ve got the guts to see what’s beyond it.”
Misha pressed her lips together and enjoyed the swaying of her body against his. His nose trailing her temple, the scent of his cologne and the hardness of his sculpted frame were things she could have lived on forever.
“What’s happening between Blaine and Ducker…do you think the same could ever be true for you and your father?”
When a response to her previous question wasn’t forthcoming she continued, “Did you see him again after he left?”
“Like most fathers who run off, the bastard resurfaced after he’d heard of my attending school in America and doing well in football.” His embrace tightened about Misha’s slight frame. “He actually thought I’d be thrilled to see him. Said he’d always loved me but knew Mum would never let us have a real relationship with the way things ended.”
Misha now regretted asking, knowing the story wouldn’t have a happy ending.
“I thank God for my uncles being there when the bloke came calling. I got in one good punch before they pulled me off. I haven’t seen him since. My uncles raised me just fine. Any guidance I needed, I got from them. They were all the father I needed.”
“I understand.” She nodded, pressing her hands to his face. “I understand.”
He brought his head down to rest on her shoulder. “I was happy when my father was out of the picture, too,” she said.
She stroked the silky hair tapering at his neck and remembered.
“My mother worked her ass off while he played ‘man of the house,’ drinking beer all day with his deadbeat friends. The best day of my life was when I got off the bus to find Mama waiting to take me to our new apartment.” She laughed, but quickly grew solemn. “I often wondered if Daddy even noticed Mama leaving with our cases packed. I guess as long as she didn’t take the TV, he was okay.”
Talib tried to ease the tension. “I’d liked to have been a fly on the wall when the power was cut.”
Their laughter mellowed into a wicked kiss mingled with more swaying to the sensuous music.
“Are you ready to go?” he whispered next to her cheek.
“Whatever you say, Talib.”
“You’re getting good at that.” He grinned, nuzzled her nose with his and they left the crowded ballroom.
Chapter 16
Misha woke in a cloud of confusion. For a few moments she studied the fabric she rested on. Awkwardly, her nails grazed the suedelike deep burgundy material. Slowly, she pulled up and blinked to clear her blurred gaze. There was definitely too much celebrating last night, she thought.
The area was unfamiliar, but before she could grow uneasy, she saw Talib across the rather wide aisle separating them. He’d taken off his shoes, and propped his feet on the swivel chair opposite the one he occupied. He was awake and watching her with his arms folded across the now wrinkled shirt he’d worn beneath the tuxedo jacket that rested across her while she slept.
Suspicion blared in Misha’s gaze as she studied his face, sexy with a satisfied smile while his head rested against the high back of his chair. She pursed her lips and looked on in hopes of gathering more clues about her surroundings and ignored Talib’s content expression.
Hell, he should feel content following the very enthusiastic interlude they shared in the limo after the gala. She patted the bodice of her dress, taking note that it was in place. She could just recall wiggling back into it. Shifting on the seat then, she ordered herself not to even wonder where her underwear was.
Maybe that was best not remembered. Actually, there wasn’t much she could remember. Then she felt the vibration beneath her feet and stilled, taking in the strange sounds that were also filtering through.
Talib settled deeper into his seat and watched Misha whirl around, raking back the scant curtains covering the cabin windows. He heard her cry out over the realization that they were several thousand feet above the ground. He moved over to peer out the windows, as well.
“That isn’t New York?” she asked, already knowing.
“Better.” He sighed.
“England.”
Misha didn’t fall victim to the subdued feeling she felt in Arizona. This was sheer disbelief. She’d traveled over Britain before en route to other destinations. But she had never had the opportunity to actually set down in t
he country. Now she realized that nothing could compare with the place as the holiday season approached.
At the jetport, baggage carts were decorated like sleds with holly leaves at the corners of the windshields. Additionally, the drivers had fashioned holly wreaths about their caps. The change in temperature hit Misha like a slap in the face. She was shivering while wrapping herself more tightly in Talib’s tuxedo jacket.
Talib was already muttering to himself, tuning into the fact that she was dressed totally inappropriately for the weather. He cuddled her against him and hurried across the tarmac.
The brief trip from the Hud-Mason jet to the waiting car turned Misha into a veritable icicle by the time she was bundled inside. Talib was apologizing profusely for neglecting her coat and brushed his lips across her forehead as his hands roamed her arms to instill warmth.
Talib was moving to prepare her a drink, completely oblivious, it seemed, to her stunned expression. Misha took the goblet of drink and downed it like a dying woman. The cognac coursed across her limbs and instantly heated her frozen state.
Misha had since remembered fully the night before—how Talib had spoke of England and how she told him she’d never been there, followed by his offer to take her there…immediately.
“Thank you.” She closed her eyes in a delighted shiver. “Are you sure about this?”
Talib smiled softly at her question. He took the goblet with intentions to refill it. He shook his head while she rambled off reason upon reason why this wasn’t the best idea.
“I mean, did you even call ahead to tell them—”
He turned and took her chin in a firm hold.
Misha felt too weary to post more arguments. Her lashes settled demurely. “Whatever you say, Talib.”
A steady rain started shortly after their drive began. Talib explained they were heading into Winchester, located in the county of Hampshire.
“My uncles Baron and Cafrey live here.”
“Why is it that you’ve got their last name?” Misha asked, tugging his jacket snugger about her shoulders.
Talib figured she’d be better off with her arms inside the sleeves and turned to assist her. “My uncles arranged for me to have the family name when my mother passed so there would be no legal confusion.” He buttoned the oversize garment about her slight frame. “Legalities didn’t matter much to me. I wanted no part of a man who didn’t want me.”
On impulse, Misha inched up to kiss his cheek. In response, Talib plied her with a more thorough kiss.
Year round, the town of Winchester boasted streets that were brightly lit for shopping. Tempting merchandise lined every store window. There were boutiques and galleries in addition to food markets with almost every delectable imaginable.
Misha’s eyelids were growing heavy from the cognac she’d consumed in an effort to get warm, but she resisted giving in to drowsiness when there was so much to see. Already, evidence of the upcoming holiday season was in view, with storekeepers getting a jump on the frenzied shopping that always occurred as Christmastime drew near.
“This is always quite a sight.” Talib squeezed Misha’s hand while taking in the excitement beyond the windows. “But they begin preparing for the season earlier and earlier every year,” he added with a look of mild disapproval.
The rumbling of his voice in her ear where she rested on his chest lulled Misha more potently than the drink. The ride continued with Talib pointing out every attraction: the city museum, the Hospital of St. Cross and the town’s exquisite theatre. They were passing the waters of the River Itchen when Misha finally gave in and let her eyes close.
Baron and Cafrey Mason lived outside of town, but close enough to be considered residents, and highly-regarded residents at that. The two youngest sons of Kent and Mabel Mason grew up more interested in horses than politics, much to their father’s disappointment.
Kent Mason was a local barrister who claimed an impressively lengthy list of minority clients. As word spread of the man’s prowess for arguing cases, his client list diversified and his profits increased.
Still Baron and Cafrey were content in raising, racing and breeding horses. Much of the family thought them fools for not following in the family business on some level. Of course, no one could argue with the wealth and reputation the men had acquired when they followed their dreams.
Still, regardless of their accomplishments, the brothers’ biggest assets were their hearts. Their love for family and friends was legendary. Therefore, it was no surprise to find the successful entrepreneurs waiting under large black golf umbrellas for their nephew’s car to arrive at the gate.
Talib kissed Misha’s forehead and left her dozing while he went to greet his uncles with hugs and kisses.
Housemaid Serena Nettles laughed merrily when Talib swung her high and kissed her cheek. “We need to get out of this rain before we all catch our deaths.” She nodded toward the car. “You did bring your young miss, didn’t you?”
Talib nodded and headed off to the car. The others followed.
“Why, she’s just a little thing.” Serena gasped when she peeked in at Misha, still fast asleep. “And what’s this? What’s that she’s wearing?”
“We, uh, didn’t take time to change.” Talib cleared his throat at the triple set of disapproving glares sent his way.
“Let’s get her out of this straightaway.” Baron was reaching into the back of the car. “My Lord, she is a small one,” he noted while pulling Misha close.
Umbrellas sheltered overhead as the group made its way into the house.
Misha rarely experienced embarrassment, yet when she opened her eyes she jumped in response to finding herself bumping against a strange man’s chest as he speed-walked with her in his arms. She caught sight of Talib’s smiling face as he followed along behind them with two other unfamiliar people. She kept her mouth shut, thereby lowering her chances of making an even greater fool of herself.
“Misha, these are my uncles, Baron and Cafrey Mason. The busy lady rushing around you is Serena Nettles.”
Misha nodded and exchanged smiles with the three people in the den. She thanked Serena, who bustled about removing Talib’s damp jacket and replacing it with the beautiful black-and-tan afghan she’d taken from the back of the leather sofa.
The handsome older men next to Talib greeted her politely before sharing agreements on how lovely she was. The brothers did nothing to mute their appraisals, which had Talib softly chastising them while Misha blushed shamefully.
“Is the chill beginning to wane, love?” Baron moved close to pat her hand.
“We apologize for our nephew,” Cafrey said while casting a disdainful look at Talib, “bringing you halfway across the world in an evening gown.”
“I’m fine, really.” Misha wouldn’t acknowledge the cold still clinging to her bones.
“Let’s get a little sherry into her system.”
“Oh, no, please.” Misha waved her hand toward Cafrey, already heading for the walled bar which occupied an entire corner of the room. “I think I’ve had enough today.” She thought of the two goblets of cognac that aided in her passing out.
“We can’t have you catching cold when we have so much in store for your stay.”
Misha studied Baron closely. “How long have you known we were coming?”
“The squirt called the day before,” Cafrey shared, tilting the decanter of sherry toward Talib.
Misha slid a glare in Talib’s direction.
Perceptive to a fault, Baron and Cafrey noticed.
“Come now, dear, did you honestly expect the man to waste more time than he already has? The family’s been dying to meet the woman he’ll make his wife.”
Misha just barely managed to hold on to the glass Baron set into her hands.
Later, with the fire blazing and a bottle of Bordeaux on the table before them, the brothers gave Misha more insight into the Mason clan.
Interests spanned law, business and politics. The latter, according
to Baron, appealed to the flashiest members of the family who’d secured places within the government.
To Talib’s embarrassment, the uncles pulled out photo albums. The pictures had Misha laughing heartily as she observed the man she loved during those awkward boyhood years. Serena brought in soup and sandwiches. Misha turned down the food and was promptly bullied into trying a little of the black-bean soup.
“Tomorrow we’ll tour the lands,” Cafrey shared, while adding pepper to the already spicy soup.
“Are you comfortable on horseback?” Baron asked.
“More and more comfortable every day, literally,” she laughed. “I guess it was just a couple of days ago we were on horseback touring Blaine Conrad’s property, right, Talib?”
“Blaine?” A grin spread across Baron’s face when he heard the name.
“How is that rascal?” Cafrey asked Talib.
While the men spoke, Misha gave in to the yawns that had been demanding release for the last fifteen minutes.
“I think this lady needs her rest,” Baron said as he noticed Misha yawn. “I can imagine you didn’t get very good sleep slumped over the seat of a plane.”
“Thank you all so much,” Misha was saying when Serena arrived to escort her to a room. Cafrey and Baron each pulled her close for good-night kisses. Then it was Talib’s turn.
He brushed his mouth across her cheek. “I’ll be up shortly.”
“You certainly won’t be up shortly,” Cafrey corrected rather loudly. “The little thing is worn out and needs rest, not to be pounced on by you.”
Despite the weariness plaguing her, Misha had to laugh. So did Serena, while taking Misha by the arm and leading her from the firelit den.
The brothers turned off the charm when they were alone with their nephew. Cafrey slapped the back of Talib’s head.
“What the hell were you thinking bringing her all this way in an evening dress? She’s nearly frozen to the bone.”
Talib rubbed the area where Cafrey’s hand made contact with his head. “I wasn’t thinking, I admit that. Coats aren’t things one thinks about often in Arizona. I’d planned for us to leave the following day, actually. I didn’t think the opportunity to come would present itself so readily.” He folded his arms over his chest and shrugged. “It was already late when we left the affair in Arizona…”
Every Chance I Get Page 12
