Ethan raised an eyebrow. Her father didn’t sound particularly encouraging, but he made no comment, just listened.
‘Still, it’s the dream. Right now I’ve got a small part in an even smaller production.’
‘What’s it called?’
‘Near Miss.’
He gave a shake of his head, to indicate that he’d never heard of it. ‘And what part do you play?’
‘Arrow,’ Merida said, and then clarified a touch. ‘I’m an arrow. And I keep missing my mark.’
‘Are you dressed as an arrow?’
‘No. I’m dressed from head to toe in black. I wear a black leotard and tights and a long black wig.’
He looked at her lovely red hair and, although he knew little about acting or costumes, he was an expert at opinions. ‘I think they might have missed an opportunity there.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I’d have thought that a red-headed arrow would be more telling.’
‘The lead wears a red wig.’ Merida smiled. ‘The arrow is more like her shadow self. A smaller part.’
‘But a very important one,’ Ethan said. ‘Though of course I may be somewhat biased.’
Merida’s hand shook a little as she took a sip of water. He was so subtle, so sparing with his words, that his suggestion of bias towards her had come from left field.
Ethan made her his sole focus, and that was rare. He made it clear there was nowhere else he wanted to be, Merida thought as their meals arrived. There was no feeling that he would soon have to dash, as her parents often did when she called. Reece too, come to that. And there was no looking over his shoulder to check who might appear, as so many in the acting world did.
‘Do you miss your family?’
‘Sometimes.’ Merida nodded again. ‘My parents are divorced, and both have remarried...’ Her voice trailed off and she didn’t elaborate.
Ethan wanted her to. It was rare that he wanted to know more about any woman he would soon bed.
And bed her he would.
That decision had been made when he had dismissed his driver and walked back towards the gallery.
At first he had thought he had left it too late, as the gallery had appeared closed, but on looking in he had seen her sitting at the high desk.
She was beautiful.
Nothing like the coiffed, sophisticated beauties he usually dated. Her riot of hair and that full mouth entranced him almost as much as those bewitching green eyes. Yes, he wanted to know more about her—but it was not just for that reason alone he decided to share a part of himself.
He wanted to talk.
Tonight he would kill for normality, to be able to admit to another person from where he had just come. To speak, as anyone else would, when they were worried about a family member.
But that type of conversation was off-limits when you were a Devereux.
And so he spoke of the past—of things that were more freely known.
‘I know all about divorce,’ he said. ‘My father’s been married a few times. Once before my mother died and twice since.’
‘Do you ever see your stepmothers?’
‘God, no,’ Ethan said, and gave a little shudder at the thought. ‘All those marriages, apart from my parents’, were pretty short-lived.’
‘So you didn’t get close to any of them?’
‘Not at all.’ Ethan shook his head and gave a small mirthless laugh. ‘I don’t think they were ever love-matches. It was more financial bliss those women were seeking. Mind you, I can hardly blame them. My father just wanted a wife on his arm for functions. He was never home.’
‘Who brought you up, then?’
‘Draconian nannies,’ Ethan said, and then he halted, realising he had said far more than he usually would. He turned the conversation back to Merida. ‘How old were you when your parents divorced?’
‘I was ten when they broke up, and they spent the next two years fighting over shared access of me.’
‘You were popular, then?’ He gave a light tease, but she didn’t smile.
‘I don’t think either of them actually wanted shared care—they just didn’t want to give in to the other.’
There was still hurt there when she thought back to that time. Although she felt silly sometimes, when she heard what others had gone through—like Ethan, who had not only lost his mother but then had to endure an endless parade of stepmothers.
He watched her fall silent and put down her cutlery. She stared at it for a moment, silently, but when the waiter came and asked if everything was okay she turned and gave a bright smile.
‘Amazing, thank you.’
The mask was back.
Ethan read women very easily. In fact, he read most people with ease.
He just couldn’t quite read Merida.
She was friendly, and appeared confident, yet there was a vulnerability to her that he could not place. It was more that he sensed it rather than saw it.
‘Did either of your parents have more children?’ Ethan asked.
‘Yes.’ Merida’s smile remained. ‘My father had a son and my mother a daughter.’
‘Are you close to them?’
‘I see them when I can, and I babysit,’ she said, not really answering the question.
‘Babysit?’ He frowned. ‘How old are the children?’
‘Oh, they’re ten and eleven now. I mean, I used to take them to their sports clubs and such, when I was able. You know...if their parents couldn’t manage it.’
‘I expect it’s been nice having a break, then.’
‘I don’t mind doing it—when I can, of course. I don’t want them to miss out on stuff.’
‘Such as...?’’
‘Activities.’
‘Did you?’
Oh, please don’t ask me this, Merida thought.
She did not want to go there and ruin a perfectly lovely night, but it felt as if he’d suddenly skipped the niceties and gone straight to the jugular.
It was just a question, she told herself.
But a pertinent one.
‘It’s really not that big a deal,’ Merida said.
‘Then you won’t mind sharing.’
‘Of course not. I got cast in a big West End theatre production,’ Merida finally said. ‘When I was twelve. It was huge. Of course they were very strict about performing hours for children, and really you needed to have your parents completely on board. At first they were really encouraging,’ Merida said, and then an edge came into her voice. ‘I’m certain that was more for the courts, though.’
Oh, she did mind sharing this, and fought to find a more relaxed tone.
‘The rehearsals were for six weeks, and at first either my mum or dad was always there to pick me up. But then it got more difficult. Dad had a new job, and my mum and I moved quite a distance away...’
‘You had to let it go?’
Merida nodded. She didn’t go into detail—how much it had hurt to let go of the part she had coveted and worked so hard for. How lost and confused she had felt when, once joint custody had finally been awarded, when the war was over in a tie, Merida hadn’t felt particularly wanted by either of her parents.
That would be a bit much for a first date.
And then she qualified that thought, not really sure if this could be classified as a date.
As the waiter cleared their plates all Merida knew was that here was where she wanted to be—even if she found him daunting. Only it wasn’t his wealth or his financial prowess that daunted her, and it wasn’t even his reputation with women.
It was this.
How much she liked him.
His utter ability to make the world disappear.
They could be sitting in a late-night diner eating burgers and she would feel exactly as she did now—connected.
She was telling Ethan things she had only ever told her closest friend, Naomi.
‘How much longer are you in New York?’ Ethan asked.
‘That depends,’ Merida said, and then admitted the truth. ‘I’m nearing desperation if I want to stay here.’
She didn’t want to bring the night down with cold facts. But, as much as she loved performing in Near Miss, it paid just a tiny stipend, and her work at the gallery covered little more than the rent.
Although there was still hope.
‘I’ve got an audition tomorrow morning, for a part on a prime-time television show.’
‘What part?’
‘You won’t laugh?’
‘I rarely do.’
‘A hooker,’ Merida said. ‘And a corpse. Although you might not believe it, playing a corpse does involve acting.’
He didn’t laugh, but he did smile.
And when he did, while looking in her eyes, even as she went to return it Merida faltered, because it made her toes curl beneath the table. How, she wondered, could he move her so with just a slight shift in that sulky mouth? It was as if he’d reached inside her and effortlessly turned up an inner flame.
And she smiled back.
Her first real smile of the night.
Her façade fell away and they sat, staring at each other. She felt so right, so recognised, that when his hand reached across the table she did not jump. Instead her hand closed around his in relief.
She felt found.
The waiter returned and it felt like an intrusion for both of them as they dropped contact and took the dessert menus.
The words blurred, and the whimsical descriptions were lost on Merida as she accepted they were headed for bed.
Oh, yes. She had waited a long time to feel like this.
And now, as she tried to read about meringues and mousses and all things delicious, she attempted to fathom his reaction if she told him of her untouched status.
‘What would you like?’ Ethan asked.
Colour that she could not tame flooded her cheeks and chest.
‘I’m not sure that I want anything,’ Merida admitted.
‘Well, I do,’ Ethan said, and put down the menu. He stood. ‘I want to dance.’
He led her to the dance floor, and once there it was a relief for her to be back in his arms.
Not so much a relief, because his touch so readily inflamed her, but it was bliss to be held by him.
So skilfully held.
They might have danced this dance a hundred times, Merida thought, for he held her as if he had practised over and over doing just that.
It was as if Ethan’s arms knew her.
His hand was above the small of her back and the pressure was light, yet still firm. He pulled her in closer and she wrapped her arm around his, so her hand came to rest beneath his shoulder blade and she could put her head high on his chest.
If it all ended now it would still be the best night of her life.
Except she didn’t want it to end now.
He had pulled her in a fraction closer, and his hand had moved up enough that his palm grazed the naked skin of her upper back. Then the pads of his fingers dusted the notches of her spine and she closed her eyes at the sensual bliss and wondered how it would go from here.
Would he kiss her again and suggest they get a room? Or would her drive her home and expect an invitation to come in?
She had no idea how this worked.
He was so sophisticated, so utterly at ease with all this, and from her response to his touch no doubt he thought the same of her.
Did she have to tell him she was a virgin? Merida pondered. She’d acted the part of a lover on stage—could she take that into real life?
She knew now. Merida knew why she was still a virgin—for no one had made her feel like he did. Quite simply, he made the rest look like rank amateurs.
‘Merida,’ he said, in a low growly voice, and she lifted her face to hear what he had to say. ‘Come to bed.’
He could see the heat spread on her cheeks and the rapid blink shuttering her glittering eyes, but he did not retract or soften his invite. Ethan wanted her very much. He had chosen to walk here from the hospital for the chance of seeing her again.
For this.
‘Ethan...’
He saw the slight conflict in her eyes and felt the sudden tension in her, and then she spoke again.
‘I haven’t done this before.’
She really was difficult to read, for he’d misread her now.
Not for a second had he considered that the sensual dancer in his arms, who had kissed him back so sexily and deeply on the street, was a virgin.
But Ethan was more than used to this kind of guilty declaration before a one-night stand—the insistence that this wasn’t usually the case before a woman came tumbling into his bed.
So he went along with it.
‘Who knew we’d both get so carried away?’ he said.
He kissed her then—right there on the dance floor.
Not a kiss to her mouth, but he lowered his head and dropped a slow kiss on her bare shoulder, and the heat from his mouth made her stomach fold over on itself.
And then he came back to her face, his mouth by her ear, and his words and the breath with which they were delivered caused her neck to arch.
‘Come to bed, Merida.’
Yes.
CHAPTER FIVE
HIS HAND WAS tight around hers as they stepped into an elevator and Merida glimpsed herself in the mirrored walls. But it was Ethan’s reflection that she cared to see, and apart from the dark shadow on his jaw he looked so polished and poised that he might be on his way to meeting, rather than taking her to bed.
She was the giveaway.
Her eyes were huge in her face, Merida saw, and it was only the grip of his hand that tethered her to his side, because she simply wanted to wrap herself around him.
Of course here was not the place.
Another couple came in and Ethan stepped back a little to make space for them, prompting Merida to do the same.
Her mind was on things other than normal social niceties.
How, she wondered, did his seamless world work?
Had he booked a suite prior to their arrival?
She didn’t know. And, as his thumb pressed into the palm of her hand, she didn’t much care.
The other couple got out, and Merida noted that the woman turned and stole another glance at Ethan. She heard them speaking as the doors slid closed.
‘I’m sure that was Abe Dev—’
Ethan didn’t comment. No doubt he was used to being recognised, or mistaken for his brother, wherever he went. And although they might have the wrong brother, for Merida he was right.
So very, very right.
Merida did not know what floor they were on.
And she did not know where the corridor they’d stepped into led.
They just walked along plush cream carpets until he swiped a lock, and Merida knew that her long-awaited dreams lay behind this door.
The suite was beyond her imaginings.
It was elegantly furnished, with soaring ceilings, and though the heavy silk drapes were closed on the New York skyline the view was still spectacular—for it was of him.
Merida cared little for her surroundings.
Ethan Devereux had mesmerised her from the very moment he had appeared in her life. It seemed impossible that it had been just hours ago they had met, and that as recently as this afternoon she hadn’t even known of his existence.
He took off his jacket and tossed it onto a chair.
Through a large half-open door she could see a vast four-poster bed, draped in cream silk with the sheets turned back. Merida felt a combination of excitement and t
error as she wondered at his reaction if he found out this was her first time.
She decided that he must not.
Ethan poured two drinks from a heavy brandy decanter. He brought one over to her and Merida took a sip, willing her nerves to calm. The cognac was warm, and it burnt a little as it went down.
Though she didn’t suffer with stage fright, she felt as if she had it tonight. Not that she showed it. For when she felt Ethan staring she gave him a sensual smile that beckoned, and he walked over and took her face in his hands.
His touch was warm, and his kiss this time was thorough, and when his tongue slipped inside her mouth he tasted of the cognac she had just sipped, and of sin, and of all that had been missing until now.
His hands roamed her body, feeling first the smoothness of her back and then making a more intimate perusal of her spine, from the naked tip at the nape of her neck down to the base, where his mere touch had her hips melding into him.
His hand moved between them and stroked the underside of her breast, and then his thumb grazed her nipple. She moaned into his mouth, because the contact was heady bliss and yet not enough.
His other hand worked the knot of her halter-neck dress. He paused their kiss so that he could peel the fabric down until, save the pearls, she was naked from the waist up.
His eyes lingered on her breasts, and in response to his gaze they peaked. And then his warm fingers met the naked flesh. He toyed with them both and she began to shake—an involuntary tremble as nerves and anticipation combined to make her unsteady.
She should do something, Merida thought, going back to her trick of pretending to be someone she was not.
So she reached for his tie, unknotting it as he played with her breasts, seductively gazing at his mouth as she slid the tie off.
Her fingers grew impatient as she dealt with the buttons on his shirt, but as she parted the fabric her reward was there. There was a dark smattering of hair over a wide chest, and flat nipples the deep red of his mouth. She pushed his shirt down over his shoulders and let the palms of her hands explore his torso.
He was toned and magnificent. She could feel the muscle and sinew and imagined being wrapped tightly in his arms. Then her hands slid down and her fingers toyed with the snake of black hair on his flat stomach.
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