by Julia Harlow
At that moment, Ellen appeared in skinny tuxedo trousers, a tailored white shirt with the collar up, spiked heels, blond blades of hair caressing her cheekbones, and large silver hoop earrings. The juxtaposition of her petite frame, blond hair, and the masculine outfit was startling.
Andrew stared at her for only a second before closing the distance between them, leaning in to kiss her cheek and whispering, “You’re so beautiful, Ellen. You take my breath away.”
Isabel caught the glimmer in Ellen’s eyes for a brief instant before it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
“Enough of all this sappy crap. Let’s go.”
The interior of the Civic Center was a marvel of illusion. Isabel found herself enchanted and pleased she’d made the effort to attend. Upon arrival, cleverly costumed book characters greeted them at the door: Mother Goose, Pippi Longstocking, and Peter Rabbit. Once inside, they saw other characters roving the venue, including Curious George, Madeline, Corduroy, Amelia Bedelia, and Winnie the Pooh.
Scenes from classic children’s books that had been made into movies were projected onto two expansive screens, and Isabel couldn’t drag her eyes from beloved snippets of The Wizard of Oz, Mary Poppins, Lassie, Bambi, The Swiss Family Robinson, Pollyanna, and Charlotte’s Web.
Tears filled her eyes as she recalled treasured memories of her mother snuggled up in bed with her arm wrapped around her, reading those books in her sweet, lyrical voice when Isabel was barely four years old. Her mother’s rule had been that she had to read the book or they would read it together when she’d been too young to read it on her own, before she was allowed to see the movie. She said a silent prayer for all children to be blessed with those same precious memories.
Beribboned baskets—overflowing with books, blankets, stuffed teddy bears, bunnies, and puppies—covered the tops of red, yellow, blue, purple, and green festooned tables that lined the walls. A string quartet played, appropriately enough for the theme of this charity event, lullabies from classic Brahms to “Hush Little Baby,” “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean,” and The Beatles rendition of “Golden Slumbers.”
Characters from Alice in Wonderland lofted silver trays filled with glasses of milk, chocolate milk, graham crackers, oatmeal cookies, and chunky chocolate chip cookies. More designer-dressed and tuxedoed adults than Isabel would have expected eagerly helped themselves to the traditional bedtime snacks.
A huge fabric image of the pirate ship from Peter Pan fluttered from the ceiling at one end of the open area, while an image of The Borrowers house swayed from the other end.
Andrew fetched flutes of champagne for them as Isabel and Ellen took in the captivating sights of the packed venue. Several of Andrew’s colleagues wasted no time in joining them, angling for an introduction to Isabel.
~*~
From across the room, Ty Griffin narrowed his eyes and scowled. He’d planned to make an early exit until he’d spotted Isabel Beachwood entering through the front doors with Andrew McConnell and a little blond. The silky fabric draping Isabel’s luscious body skimmed each and every one of her curves. While he loved her dark hair loose and flowing around her face, this piled-up, sexy hairdo exposed her delectable collarbone and neck. It gave her an alluring, sophisticated appearance he couldn’t drag his eyes away from, even if he’d wanted to.
It took all of two seconds to have an internal debate about whether he should go to her. Expending a herculean effort, he’d vowed to keep his distance for a while, especially after the negotiations of the last few days. An astute judge of character, Ty knew this exceptional woman wouldn’t accept his help under any circumstances.
When McConnell’s attorney friends approached her, the muscles in Ty’s neck tightened, and he found himself charging across the room almost before he realized what he was doing. No way was he letting those clowns near her.
“Sorry, guys, this dance is mine.” He pulled her to the dance floor and into his arms. Isabel shook her head, rolling her eyes heavenward. A lock of hair had come loose and feathered across her soft, flushed cheek.
“That dress should be illegal,” he grumbled. “Let me re-phrase. You in that dress should be illegal.” But rather than roaming her body, his eyes focused on her face. He drew her closer, and his insides melted when, instead of resisting, her body leaned slightly into his. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled. Tonight she smelled of peaches and vanilla. Intoxicating. He couldn’t ever get enough of it. Of her.
“The dress was a birthday gift from my mother.”
Even though he knew her age and a good deal more about her than that, he was curious to see if she’d fess to the truth. “Which birthday?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, she replied, “Twenty-fifth.”
He swirled her around the dance floor with the grace and command of a prince at a ball. “How do you know Andrew McConnell?”
“Friend of a friend.”
“The little blond?”
“My stepsister, Ellen Daniels.”
He spotted Ellen glaring at him from across the room and then noticed McConnell heading their way with the determination of a man who’d been ordered on a mission in every step of his black patent-leather dress shoes.
“May I cut in?”
“I don’t think so, McConnell. Go dance with your own date.”
“Isabel came with Ellen and me.”
“Well, she’s with me now.”
Isabel shrugged her shoulders and smiled at Andrew, indicating she’d just go with the status quo, and Andrew ambled back, apparently in no hurry to face the wrath of Ellen.
Just as Isabel’s head rested against Ty’s chest, the string quartet began to play “When You Wish Upon a Star.” The lyrics of the song came to Ty from somewhere in his childhood: “Like a bolt out of the blue, fate steps in and sees you through . . .” The first time he’d set eyes on the woman he now held in his arms he’d been hit with that very bolt out of the blue.
When the keynote speaker stepped to the podium, Ty led Isabel to a pink-draped table with a clever silver moon and stars centerpiece, where some of Ty’s co-workers from Grandin Financial were already seated. He introduced Isabel to everyone before pulling out a chair for her. They were served bacon-wrapped grilled shrimp drizzled with Adobo sauce; tiny halves of new potatoes that had been hollowed out, filled with crème fraîche, and topped with plump black caviar; and savory steamed dumplings in a ginger and scallion sauce. And, of course, lots more champagne.
As they listened to the impassioned speech, Ty couldn’t have been more pleased that he’d stayed. This cause was near to his heart, but Isabel being there made all the difference. If he’d found out after the fact that she’d been here, he’d have gone berserk. He glanced over at her and noticed her covering a yawn with her hand.
“Tired?”
“A little. It’s been a long day.”
He pushed back the chair and stood just as the room erupted in applause for the speaker. “Let me take you home.” He reached for her hand.
“No, I’ll wait for Ellen and Andrew.”
Ty scanned the room until he spotted them. “They’re involved with a group from his law firm. They’ll be here awhile.”
After they said goodbye to Ellen and Andrew, Ty and Isabel headed out into the May night. It had cooled off considerably and Isabel shivered.
“Did you bring a wrap?”
“No, I was so warm when I left tonight that I didn’t think I’d need it.”
Ty slipped out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. He couldn’t resist lifting the tendrils of her hair that had come loose from under the collar of his jacket and touching that creamy skin he’d dreamed about for so many nights.
At the curb, he handed the ticket to the valet and soon the refined roar of an engine broke the balmy evening silence. He helped her in and then strode around to the driver’s side to fold his big frame into the rich leather seat of a pearl-white two-door Bentley Sport convertible.
Is
abel spoke up. “Head toward the Mission District.”
“Mission? But you live in the Excelsior.”
“Not anymore.”
He thought he detected a gloomy note in her voice. “You moved?”
“Today, I moved in with Ellen.” There it was again, that disconsolate hint when she spoke, this time even more pronounced.
Shit! He hadn’t acted quickly enough. No, not exactly true. He hadn’t known soon enough to act.
They rode in silence until he broke it to ask the address.
Chapter 5
Ty’s tuxedo jacket felt wonderful around Isabel’s bare shoulders. And really roomy. The pleasant realization dawned on her that standing next to him she felt small, dainty in fact, for the first time since . . . well, forever.
She couldn’t remember a more arousing feeling than being enfolded in his arms while they were dancing. Even through the fabric of his shirt, she could feel the crests of the muscles in his chest and abdomen, firm and unyielding. His body pressed against hers, his breath a soft caress across her cheek. He was a powerfully attractive man, and dancing with him tonight left her no chance to deny it. She wanted him. It had been a long time since she’d felt such pure lust for a man.
He angled into a parking spot in front of Ellen’s loft and turned off the ignition. A sign that he wanted to come in? Simply because he was going to escort her to the door? Her heart pounded so hard against her ribcage she was afraid he might hear it. She had to get control of herself before she did something stupid, like launch herself into his lap. Thoughts of the ginger jar she needed to return to him steered her back to stark reality. He wasn’t going to be happy about that. She decided to invite him in so she could give it back to him.
“Would you like to come in for a nightcap?”
He gave her his crooked grin. “Oh, most definitely.”
Out the car door and around to the passenger side, he offered his hand, and when she took it, the sensation of his touch tingled all the way up her arm. Her thoughts swirled around in her brain like tornadic winds. Did he feel the same spark she did? She studied his expression, trying to discern it. Was he attracted to her or was he just behaving as a gentleman would? Maybe her feelings for him were way off from what he felt for her. All she knew was that being near him had become intoxicating.
Ty followed her up the two flights of the outer wrought-iron stairs, and when she fumbled in her tiny clutch for the key, he put his hand on her waist and inched her closer to the brass carriage light. Clicking nails on hardwood and frantic yapping emanated from the other side of the door.
“Doesn’t sound like your dog.”
Isabel sighed, shaking her head. “It’s not.”
After she unlocked the door and flipped on the light switches, they found Queenie dancing a wild Cha-Cha, running circles in and around their legs, more than once almost lassoing their feet. Pilot sat off to one side, clearly mortified for his whole species.
“Ellen’s dog. A hopeless case. She’s ingrained the worst habits in that dog, and I don’t have the patience to deal with either of them at the moment. Neurotic doesn’t begin to cover it. I’ve been tempted to give Pilot the command to grab Queenie’s neck in his jaw and shake, hard, at least ten times today. And this is only my first day living here.”
Ty laughed low in his throat, the sound so relaxed, almost intimate, as if they’d known each other for a long time. “It can’t be that bad.” He leaned down to pet the Corgi, who immediately flopped on her back, shamelessly spreading her squatty legs to expose her belly.
“Would you mind if we took them for a quick walk? I’ll take the brat and you can take Pilot.”
“I’d love to. C’mon boy.” Ty clicked his tongue twice, and Pilot was instantly at his side. Isabel frowned at Pilot. She’d have to figure out what was going on with the two of them later. She handed Ty her dog’s leash and clipped another on Queenie’s collar.
Once outside, Queenie dragged Isabel to the nearest patch of grass and squatted. Pilot heeled next to Ty until they got to a stretch of greenery. Her dog sniffed around a bit and then lifted his leg. Elegantly. She thought she heard Ty mumble, “I want this dog.”
A thick fog whirled around them as they headed back to the loft. Isabel snuggled deeper into Ty’s jacket. It smelled of soap and sexy male, the way he’d smelled when he’d held her in his arms tonight. With the memory of his hard body pressed against hers fresh in her mind, a palpable yearning surged through her, and she trembled.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Fine.” She sounded more certain than she felt.
Once back inside, Isabel slid the tux jacket off her shoulders and hung it on an antique bentwood hall tree along with the dog leashes. Queenie settled down with her newest chew toy: a hot pink unicorn with a rainbow-colored horn and tail. Pilot watched Isabel, ears pricked and body tense.
“What would you like to drink?”
Ty took her by the hand and led her to the taupe-colored canvas sofa adorned with Zapotec Indian print throw pillows in patterns of teal, terra cotta, and gray. “You sit. I’ll get the drinks. Steer me in the right direction.”
Ellen’s nifty built-in bar, complete with wine cooler, refrigerator, and bar sink, was housed in bookcases on one side of the living area. When the two wood-paneled cabinet doors opened, sparkles of light glinted off the chilled bottles and wine glasses. A shelf slid out, providing a space to set glasses and mix drinks.
“Wow. This is clever. I may steal this idea for my study.” Bending his tall body, Ty examined the interior for a few moments, eyeing the space first from one side and then the other, at the same time providing Isabel with an unobstructed view of his spectacular body. Her eyes traveled up his long legs to his perfect butt and the muscles flexing through the fabric of his dress shirt every time he moved.
“So, what’s your pleasure, Miss Beachwood?” He turned, grinning at her as if he knew she’d been ogling him.
She blushed, trying to corral her wayward thoughts. “I think there’s an open bottle of Chardonnay in the wine cooler. I’ll have a glass of that.” Her head fell back against the sofa cushions.
“Ah, Merryvale, very nice chard.” With a wine bottle and stemmed glass in one hand and a tumbler with an inch or so of what looked like whisky in the other, Ty settled on the sofa next to her.
After pouring her wine and handing her the glass, he lifted the tumbler and clinked it with her wine glass. “Slainte.” Their eyes met as they took a sip and Isabel’s insides clenched.
His head turned as he scanned the space. “Nice digs. Ellen works here too?”
“Yes. She’s an artist. All the paintings you see are hers.”
“So, she’s your stepsister?”
“Yes, she is.”
He tossed one arm over the back of the sofa, skimming her bare shoulder as he did. He loosened his tie and opened the top buttons of his dress shirt, exposing a triangle of bare skin at his throat. Isabel’s eyes kept straying to that delectable spot. She wondered if she were to lick him right there, what would he taste like? Involuntarily, she squeezed her thighs together and then prayed he hadn’t noticed. And that he wasn’t a mind reader.
She needed to get control of herself and fast. They’d first been tossed together when he’d bought her table and then again when she paid him the fifty dollars she owed him. And now tonight. Meeting at the charity event was mere coincidence. He’d probably been ready to leave when he noticed her yawning and offered her a ride home.
This man was a veritable god, and she had no earthly business fantasizing about any future with him, no matter how short. He was richer than Croesus, savvy as they come, charming, and very well educated. Surely, women lined up for miles down California Avenue in hopes of becoming Mrs. Tyberius Griffin. His options for choosing the ideal goddess had to be staggering.
She, on the other hand, was an average, not-so-recent ugly duckling, unemployed, and with no prospects whatsoever.
With these dish
eartening thoughts spurring her into action, she rose and set her wine glass on the surface of a sanded and polished two-hundred-pound tree stump, Ellen’s idea of a coffee table. She stared down at him in all his startlingly gorgeous glory. Would she ever get used to how beautiful he was? Especially that full, soft lower lip that she wanted to suck . . .
She drew in a deep breath and went for it. “We need to talk about something.”
He swirled the amber liquid around in the tumbler wrapped in his large hand, took a sip, and then smiled up at her with a glint in his blue eyes, almost making her swoon. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”
“I can’t keep the Delft Blue ginger jar. It’s boxed and ready for you to take back with you.” She anchored her hands on her hips to show him she really meant business.
His chest rose on a heavy sigh. “Oh, Christ, not this again. Conrad warned me. Look, Isabel. It’s a gift. Just say thank you.” He shot her a stern look.
“The flowers were a gift. Thank you again. The Delft Blue is an expensive antique and not appropriate for two people who don’t know each other.”
He came up off the sofa, and something vulnerable, almost wounded, filled his expression. “We know each other. I’ve been to your apartment and now to your new place; you’ve been to my office. We danced tonight. We’ve walked dogs together, for Christ’s sake.”
Isabel shook her head. “I’m not keeping it.”
He took a step toward her. “It’s very simple, Isabel. I noticed you had some pieces of Delft Blue when I came to your apartment to buy the table and thought you might like a vase. End of story. Now can we please move on?” The gleam in his eyes suddenly seemed to be telegraphing, Can I move in on you? And he was.
The edge of the tree stump hit the backs of her knees as she inched backwards. Ty’s hands were on her shoulders, and she felt the warmth from them travel down her body. His voice was husky when he spoke. “Tonight’s been really nice. Dancing. Talking. Just being together. Let’s not spoil it with some arbitrary line you’ve drawn in the sand.”
