by Day Leclaire
“Teetering?” His smile flashed white in the duskiness of the room. “Sweetheart, you were all woman, even then. Slender, graceful, that incredible hair of yours a silken waterfall of deep rose. You stood along the second-floor railing, looking down at us in the foyer. A princess inspecting the peasants.”
“Never,” she instantly denied. “I never felt that way and I never will. I remember looking at you and thinking…Why, there he is. He’s the one.”
“And I remember looking at you and wondering if your skin really was that white or if it was just a trick of the lighting. And thinking how much I wanted—” His smile faded. “That’s when your father told us that the help didn’t use the front door. We were to go around to the back.”
“Oh, Alex,” she whispered, feeling his pain. “I know there’s nothing I can say to make up for his attitude.”
“Don’t even try.”
“I don’t intend to. In fact, I don’t intend to say much of anything. Instead, I’d rather act.”
She lifted upward and captured his mouth with her own. Slowly, she drew him closer until he fell heavily into her embrace, his weight a delicious pressure. For a long time, she indulged herself in a thorough exploration of his mouth. His kisses had always been intoxicating, but now they were even more potent than the whiskey he’d poured into their coffee.
He’d changed in a number of ways since they’d last been together, she realized. His shoulders were broader and the muscles across his back and along his arms harder and more sharply defined. He’d also filled out, his torso wider and more solid than the whipcord leanness she remembered with such clarity. Even his face was different. Distinctive brackets were etched into either side of his mouth and laugh lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes. Though his features had never possessed a particularly youthful aspect—at least not in all the time she’d known him—when last they’d been together, he hadn’t quite attained the mantle of command that now cloaked him.
Intent on familiarizing herself with this new Alex, she took her time, allowing her fingers to wander over his face, to skim across the furrows and climb into the shallow indent dividing his chin. All the while he studied her, his expression watchful, his eyes the exact shade of bittersweet chocolate. Memories flitted there, some that allowed tenderness to slip through, others that held him at a distance. She accepted it. Understood it. After all, didn’t she feel the same?
Rebecca lifted upward again, her mouth following the path her fingers had taken. She had a choice. She could give him a final kiss and send him on his way. And he’d go. She didn’t doubt that for a moment. Or she could listen to the dictates of her heart and finish what she’d started. It took no thought at all.
She didn’t know when—or if—this opportunity would ever present itself again. Chances were excellent that morning-after regret would prevent a reoccurrence. But just for today, she couldn’t bear to turn him away. Their romantic interlude wouldn’t lead anywhere. She knew that. Too much stood between them. But they could have right now. They could have this brief time together. And when it was over, she’d deal with the fallout. She’d even walk away, if he insisted, because she’d still have the memories to take with her.
The instant she reached her decision, she stroked her hands downward, finding the buttons of his dress shirt and releasing them one by one. His skin felt warm against her own, and the firm, steady beat of his heart seemed to gather within her palms of its own accord. Slowly, she pushed the crisp cotton from his shoulders and down his arms. He stopped her before she could remove it altogether.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “No regrets afterward?”
She offered him a teasing smile. “Of course there’ll be regrets, on both our parts. But I’ll deal with them. And so will you.”
“You’ve had too much to drink. It’s been a traumatic day for you. I should—”
“You should tell me whether you still keep an emergency condom in your wallet.”
She saw the answer in his eyes and smiled in a way that had him swearing beneath his breath. He shoved his hand into his back pocket and pulled free his wallet. She took it from there, removing the foil packet before tossing his billfold to the floor, followed by his shirt. Then she reacquainted herself with every inch of him, memorizing anew all the corded ridges and smooth, rippled expanse of him. When she grazed his belt buckle, he toed off his shoes, allowing them to drop to the floor with a decisive thud, signaling his unconditional surrender.
“You strike me as a woman who’s a bit overdressed for the occasion,” he informed her.
“Maybe you should do something about that.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
He channeled his energy into remedying the situation. With the ease of experience, he had the zipper of her skirt undone and the lightweight wool following the path of his shirt and shoes. She lay beneath him clad in the silk and lace products of her trade, a delicious advertisement for him and him alone.
“I wouldn’t have thought you could wear that shade of plum. Not with your hair. But it works.” He shot her a slow grin. “It really works.”
“So I noticed.”
She made short work of unfastening his belt and unzipping his trousers. He eased back and she reluctantly let him go while he removed the last of his clothing. Then he returned to the bed and ran a finger along the low-cut edge of her bra.
“Still overdressed,” he observed.
“Still waiting for you to do something about it,” she retorted. “Or shall I?”
She didn’t wait for him to decide, but wriggled out from under him and stood. Taking a swift step backward, she evaded the arm he shot out to snag her. She crossed to a nearby chair and lifted one foot onto the seat. Deliberately taking her time, she released her stocking from her garter and rolled it down her leg. A low groan emanated from the direction of the bed. She turned her attention to the next stocking before removing the garter altogether and draping the various pieces of sheer femininity over the back of the chair.
“Come to bed and let me finish that,” Alex demanded.
“Don’t get up,” she insisted with mock solicitousness. “I’ll take care of it.”
One by one, she lowered the spaghetti straps of her bra, which seemed to drift of their own accord down her arm. Then she released the catch at her back and inch by excruciating inch allowed the lacy scrap to fall free. Alex released a harsh exclamation and exploded from the bed. In one swift move, he had her off her feet and falling through the air onto the mattress.
Sunlight stroked her skin, and then it was Alex stroking it. Her. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, reveling in a touch that combined tenderness with a tormenting aggression. He cupped her breasts and then took possession of them with lips and teeth and tongue. She arched beneath him, wanting more. And he gave it to her.
His hands plied across the softness of her belly to the final triangle of silk still covering her. She felt the delicate waistband snap and the next instant, the silk had been torn away, leaving her completely open to both his gaze and possession.
Sunlight danced along the auburn nest protecting the heated core of her. Murmuring in Spanish, he slid his splayed fingers into the curls, arousing her even further with a probing touch. Ever so carefully he spread her, teased her to the very brink. She clung to her sanity just long enough to rip open the foil packet he’d given her earlier and slip the contents over him. And then he was breaching her, sliding inward with a single, deep thrust.
“Alex!”
“I’m right here, dulzura.” His breath escaped in a hot gust. “I’m with you all the way.”
She closed her arms and legs around his powerful form and clung to him, rode with him, melded with him. The sunlight around them intensified, so bright it blinded her to all but the man within her arms. He became her everything, filled her with all that he was. And she gave up to him, surrendering every bit of what she felt within her heart and body, until there was no more to give.
&nb
sp; And in that final moment of climax, they became one, no longer separated by the past, but joined by it. Until that instant she’d truly believed that their connection had ended a long time ago. But as she tumbled toward bliss, Rebecca realized that the love she’d felt for Alex had never truly died. It had simply waited dormant for this time and this place and this man to rise again, like a phoenix from the ashes. The love she felt for him hadn’t gone away.
And in that incandescent moment, she realized it never would.
She didn’t know how long they slept. It was dark when she awoke, disoriented. She no longer lay in Alex’s arms, though the warmth from his body lingered, indicating he’d only recently left her. From the depths of the room she caught the quiet movements as he gathered his clothing.
“Alex?” she murmured.
“Go back to sleep, Rebecca.”
The formality dismayed her. He’d called her Rebecca. Not dulzura. Not even Becca. He’d thought she’d be the one with regrets the morning after. It would seem that he’d beaten her to it, and it wasn’t even morning yet. She lifted onto one elbow.
“Are you all right?” she asked gently.
He froze, then released a sound that was part sigh and part laugh. “I believe that should be my line.”
“Probably,” she conceded. “But I’m not the one sneaking out.”
“I wasn’t sneaking,” he instantly denied. “I was trying not to wake you. There’s a difference.”
“Mmm. Only a man could come up with that sort of distinction.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “You’re sorry this happened, aren’t you?”
She caught the shadow of his head turning in her direction. “Aren’t you?”
She considered for a brief moment. “I’m sorry that I’ve become a cliché,” she admitted. “But I’m not sorry we made love.”
“And only a woman could make that distinction.”
“Probably.” She released her breath in a sigh. “Would you prefer we pretend this didn’t happen?”
She sensed his sudden stillness. “You’re joking, right?”
“No, I’m not.”
She wrapped the sheet around herself and switched on the bedside lamp. A soft pool of light enveloped her. Dragging the sheet from the bed, she stood and faced Alex. To her disappointment, he regarded her with a wary, remote gaze. Where was the man who’d shared her bed, who’d made love to her with such intense passion? Long gone, apparently.
“Look…” Alex ran a hand through his already rumpled hair. “It happened. We’re both adults. We’ve been here before.”
“And will again?” she dared to ask.
He shook his head a bit too promptly. “There’s too much between us, Becca. It wouldn’t be wise.”
Well, at least he was calling her Becca now. A slight improvement. “In case you hadn’t noticed, wisdom isn’t my strong suit.”
“We can’t go back.”
He made the statement with such gentleness that tears pricked her eyes. “I’m aware of that. I was actually thinking of moving forward. You know.” She lifted her shoulder in a shrug, catching the sheet before it could slip to the floor. “We’re at a crossroads and all that. We can’t go back, but we can go forward. It’s how we move forward that’s in question.”
“I won’t turn you into a town joke. If we start an affair, people will pick up on it. They’ll see it in the way we look at each other. Or speak. Or touch.” He bent and snagged his wallet off the floor where she’d dropped it and tucked it into his back pocket. “Alicia didn’t have to say a word and I knew she and Justin were together just from how they interacted.”
“I don’t care about gossip.”
“I do and you will.”
He stated it with such implacability that she knew no amount of argument would sway him. “All right. We won’t make love again.”
“You’ll see. It’s the right decision,” he said. “The only decision.” Picking up his shoes, he crossed to the bedroom door. There, he paused and glanced at her over his shoulder. “You okay?”
She smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine.”
He took her at her word and left. The instant the door closed, her smile faded. Well, what had she expected? That he’d fall at her feet and declare his undying love? That he’d beg her to marry him and have his babies? She sank onto the edge of the mattress and closed her eyes. Damn.
His babies.
Once upon a time, it had seemed not just a possible dream, but a likely one. Now it was as much an improbability as her reaching for the moon and plucking it from the nighttime sky. Curling into a ball, she reminded herself that she wasn’t going to have any regrets. If all he could give her was this one night, then she’d thank heaven above for the memory and be grateful she’d been given that much.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t planned on falling in love with Alex again. Too bad she hadn’t considered the likelihood of that beforehand—not that it would have made a difference. If she lived to be a hundred, the memory of this one special night would bring a smile to her face whenever she thought of it. And she planned to think about it a lot. With that final thought, sleep claimed her. When it did, it was with a smile on her lips.
And a tear on her cheek.
Everything changed over the next week. Alex turned into her employer—a real employer. And Rebecca found keeping a smile on her face more difficult than she imagined possible. When he scheduled a formal meeting with her in his office to discuss the upcoming party, Rebecca was determined to prove to him that she could handle the aftermath of their…
She hesitated to call it an actual affair. A one-night stand? Whatever the term for it, one thing was certain. Alex was determined to hold her at a careful distance.
“I want to discuss the Franklin reception with you,” he said when she joined him in his office. He waved her toward the chair in front of his desk and folded his hands on the tidy teak surface while leveling her with a detached stare that buried all hint of emotion. “You’ve handled these sort of affairs for your father, haven’t you?”
“I’ve organized them, yes,” she agreed cautiously.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Okay, I know a ‘but’ when I hear one.”
She hesitated. “In the past, I’ve always hired a caterer.”
“Which I’ve already given you permission to do,” he replied with an edge of impatience.
She sacrificed tact for honesty. “I’m not sure I can handle all my normal responsibilities in regard to maintaining the house in addition to covering everything that needs to be done for the party, especially since you want the place decorated for Christmas.”
“Got it.” For the first time, a hint of emotion slipped through his impassive demeanor. The fact that it was amusement she took as a good sign since it returned them to a more companionable footing. “You have my permission to hire extra staff if you need it. You can supervise staff, I assume?”
She grinned. “I excel at it.”
He returned her smile with one of his own and that’s when she saw it—a blistering flash of desire that came and went so quickly she thought maybe she’d imagined it. Right until she saw his fingers tense. And for the first time since their night together, she felt a resurgence of hope.
“Fine. Your new job is to take care of the party.” He shoved back his chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”
She stood, as well. When he made to pass her, she touched his arm. Just that. He paused, staring down at her with keen regret. “We can’t, Becca,” he informed her gently. “It won’t lead anywhere good.”
“Funny. I thought our night together was pretty darn good. More than, if you want my opinion.” This time he didn’t reveal any amusement. Instead she caught regret, and that more than anything filled her with sorrow. Without another word, she let him go. “Right,” she whispered when he was no longer within earshot. “I get it.”
It wasn’t until she was in the middle of discussing the meals with the caterer that
she saw her conversation with Alex in a far different light. Rebecca had worked successfully with Angie, the owner of the company, in the past, but her new position as Alex’s housekeeper seemed to change Angie’s attitude toward her. There was a slight hint of discomfort that Rebecca was finally forced to confront.
“Okay, Angie. What’s going on? You and I have worked together a dozen times in the past. What’s the problem?”
Angie sighed. “I’m sorry, Rebecca. It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
“Is it because I’m Alex’s housekeeper?” she asked bluntly. “Or is it because of my father? What’s the deal?”
“I can’t pretend I haven’t heard the rumors, but I know you. If your father did something unethical, that’s on him,” Angie replied just as bluntly. “I don’t hold it against you.”
Rebecca blinked in surprise. “Thanks. I appreciate it. But…if that’s not the problem, what is?”
“It’s Montoya. Rumors are flying all over Somerset about his forcing you to be his…housekeeper,” she spoke the word with a telling edge to her voice, “in exchange for helping your father. I’m just not sure I want to work for someone capable of doing such a thing.”
“Is that all?” Rebecca said with a relieved laugh. “Then let me reassure you. Alex didn’t force me to work for him. If anything, it was the other way around.”
It was Angie’s turn to blink. “Come again?”
“I showed up on Alex’s doorstep and told him I’d work as his housekeeper until my family’s debt is paid. He did everything he could to talk me out of it.” She grimaced. “If what you’re saying about the rumor mill is accurate, I’m beginning to understand why he was so reluctant to take me on. I had no idea people would think he’d forced this on me.”
“I have to tell you, this certainly puts a different light on things.”
“Good. I’m glad.” Rebecca smiled. “Alex is really a great guy. Maverick County is fortunate to have him living here.”
“Fair enough,” Angie said, though a hint of doubt remained in her voice. “But won’t it be weird for you?”
