“Bruce.” She waited a few extra moments for her eyes to adjust. He could also be exhausted and lying on the floor. “Fire ninja.” The room wasn’t as bad off as she’d expected it to be: the mattress and box spring were on the floor, the armchair usually sitting beside the bed now took up residency in several areas of the room; the full-length mirror on the back of his closet door was history. He’d need to order yet another laptop.
“If I step on glass, I’m kicking your tail.” She strained to find Bruce.
She couldn’t see him, but she heard him breathing heavily. The plan—keep him talking until he was back to his usual ol’ grumpy self, just as she’d done when they were children. She carefully approached the darkened corner she suspected he stood in.
“Leave me alone!”
“I will as soon as you give your honest opinion on an idea I have for the resort.” Déjà vu hit her, except she remembered showing him a picture of a lion and him saying something about a man being eaten. She stepped over the broken arm of a chair.
“You’re kidding, right?” He moved from the shadows into the moonlight. He wore nothing but his briefs.
Dayummmm! Broad shoulders, tapered waist, powerful thighs, and his hands… Oh how she longed to have them on her again, him in her again.
“No,” she uttered.
“I’m in no mood to talk about Dixon right now. I put you in charge of the first floor. Do whatever you want with it. Humph, you should add a gladiator attraction. Man eating lions and all.” As if he were also experiencing some strange sort of déjà vu, he paused. “What are you doing in here?” he growled.
“Where else would I be?” she asked as she neared. “We’re two of a kind.”
That statement earned a genuine laugh from him. “You are crazy! You’re sunshine and I’m rain. Too much rain causes floods.”
“Too much sun causes droughts. I guess we need each other.” Close enough to touch him, she rested her hands on his chest and gazed into his sorrowful brown eyes. She could see his mood had stabilized.
Voice lowered and husky, he repeated, “What are you doing here?”
“Where else would I be?”
“Cowering with Anna and Auntie Vic. I’ll bet the new girl is scared shitless,” he joked, but she could tell he’d been hurt by their reactions, kind of like the way she was hurt by her father’s reaction.
“Rachel. Her name is Rachel.” She wrapped her arms around him and listened to the steady beat of his heart.
“Have they sent you to calm the savage beast?”
“If so, then I’m in love with a beast.” She could swear she heard his heart skip a beat.
He wove his fingers through her hair and tilted her face up. “You still love me?”
“I’m in love with you , but…” She loved him, but was love enough? She lowered her gaze. “Daddy hasn’t even spoken to me since they removed the bandages from my face.”
“My mother gave me away because she believes me a monster…”
“You’re not a monster.”
“I know that now, but as a child… Don’t let your father’s issues become yours. I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have made my proposal sound like some last-ditch attempt to keep you safe. I love you, Nefertiti.” His hands slowly moved from her hair to under the veil. He rested his forehead on hers as he traced her facial scars with his fingertips. “I’ve seen these.”
“H—how… When?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He smoothed her tears and many of her fears away with the pads of his thumbs. “You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He continued caressing her face. “I won’t lie to you. I get angry when I think about what you’ve gone through—what you’re going through.” Voice barely over a whisper, he said, “Trust me, baby.”
Decision made, she slowly unhooked the veil from her ears. The sheer yellow material fell to the floor. The world didn’t stop. A giant spotlight didn’t pop out from nowhere and train on her. Bruce didn’t sour his face in repulsion or even cringe. Yet she wouldn’t use his term from earlier and call this event “anti-climatic.”
The way his gaze appreciatively brushed over her face was anything but anti-climatic. The way his hands glided along her back to her bottom voided the term. The way he drew her into his hard body refused to be associated with anything anti-climatic.
A low sensual growl escaped him as he rubbed his cheek against hers. The stubble from his ten o’clock shadow prickled, but she savored this moment. She’d waited such a long time. With the veil gone, she could enjoy him fully.
Something in his growl called to the less civilized part of her nature. In answer to his call, she nibbled his lower lip. She’d always loved his lips. And now she could suck, nip, and taste them all she wanted.
His hands firmly grasped her backside and lifted her. As she slid along his hardness, his body, she wrapped her legs around him and her arms around his neck. Now nose to nose, she could delve deeply into his mouth—spicy hot and wild.
He lifted her higher, until his mouth was level with her breast. The feel of his tongue massaging her breast through the material… She almost melted into a pool of rapture. He lowered her and stepped toward the mattress, now lying on the floor. He stumbled over the seat of the armchair. As they fell, he turned their bodies so she’d land on him. She straightened her legs and reached out to break their fall, but with lightning speed, he pulled her arms in close to her body.
The force of the thump when they landed on the mattress worried her. “Oh my God, Bruce.” Belatedly, she realized he was trying to keep her from re-injuring her wrists.
He lay on his back eyes closed and arms out to his sides. Pain didn’t ravage his face, yet besides breathing heavily, he wasn’t moving or making a sound.
“You’re scaring me. Say something.”
Without a word, he opened his eyes, laced his fingers through her hair, pulled her to his lips and kissed her so thoroughly he set the bar higher for what could be considered “toe curling.”
“Umm,” she purred. “Glad to see our little fall didn’t injure you.” She suckled along his neck to his chest. Between her legs the glorious throb of his hardness against her heat excited her. More than ready, she sat up and gyrated to his beat.
His hands slowly traveled along her back to her hips. They both groaned as he cupped her backside. Her whole body hummed with delight, but she wanted—needed—more. “Bruce,” she murmured.
“I know, baby.” He slipped his hands under her negligee and caressed her waist. He pushed the negligee up as his hands ventured to her breasts. To give him better access, she pulled the yellow satin over her head and dropped it to the floor.
“Oh God, puh-leez tell me you see my nightstand somewhere close.”
She quickly scanned the room. Thankfully, the nightstand was beside the bed frame, just turned on its side. “I see it.”
“In the drawer.”
She crawled toward the nightstand. He rolled over and reached for her panties, which she easily slid out of. She opened the drawer and found a box of condoms, grabbed one of the foil packets and ripped it open as she returned to Bruce, who had taken off his briefs.
The first time they’d made love, she’d been so caught up she hadn’t fully appreciated his manly beauty.
“Woman, if you don’t stop licking your lips…” he teased.
“Just lie back and let me enjoy myself.” She wrapped her hand around his hardness and stroked gently.
He softly growled his encouragement as he sank two of his fingers into her heat.
“Ummm,” she moaned. “Licking my lips isn’t the only thing I can do.” She took him into her mouth. Nefertiti sucked, stroked, and licked Bruce’s pulsating member until his body quivered.
“Baby.” He reached for her hand that still held the condom.
She barely had time to roll their protection onto him before he grabbed her by the waist, flipped them both over, and entered her. She cried out in ecstasy as he penetrated her. She
held onto his firm buttocks and helped increase the force of the strokes.
Gazes locked, she was sure she’d never see a more beautiful sight than the love and desire that burned in his eyes. Short of breath, she felt herself tighten around him. “Bruce!”
“Umm, that’s it, baby.”
Vision blurred and hearing muted, she floated between the worlds of real and surreal.
“Nefer… Nefff!” His body shook with his release. He descended on her lips and silenced the soft, sensual cries coming from her as she reached her climax.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Wake up, baby,” Bruce whispered into Nefertiti’s ear. “I need to get ready for work.” He shook her for the sixth time.
Mind groggy, mouth cottony, she smacked her lips and pushed him away. “Stop shaking me.” She cracked her eyes open and spotted a pillow on the carpet next to the mattress. “Hand me that fluffy thing as you leave.” After a night of making love, they’d showered, then crashed on his mattress.
“No can do, babe. Janis is very efficient. A cleaning crew will be here any minute.”
“Aw, man, I thought you loved me.”
“I do.” He pulled her up as he stood. “That’s why I let you sleep in. Now do you want me to carry you to your bed in the state you’re in, or would you like to dress first?”
“You wouldn’t.”
Though still naked, he picked her up and stalked toward the door. She laughed and scrambled to get down. “You are crazy!”
“And your point?” He bent over to retrieve her yellow negligee and gave her a view that had her ready for a repeat of last night’s performance. “Here you go.”
She slipped into the satin, but wished he were slipping into her.
A wicked grin tipped his lips. “Come here.”
Someone knocking at his door stopped Nefertiti in her tracks.
“Mr. Maxwell… It’s… . It’s Rachel.”
“Aw hell! What?” He pulled Nefertiti into his embrace. His hardness rested against her belly.
“I’m sorry to wake you, but… umm, Miss Janis told me to let you know the cleaning crew is here… And umm—”
“Out with it, woman! Damn!”
“Sh—she said you need to turn your phone back on.”
Nefertiti heard Rachel run away from the room. “You’ve scared that poor child to death. Stop being so mean to her.”
“Janis sent her up here to start getting her used to me. I’m not changing, so she can deal with it or leave. I wanted to make you scream again, but I guess I should get ready for work.” He brushed his lips over her forehead. “Get together with Janis to make the wedding arrangements.”
“Bruce.” She stepped out of his embrace. “Listen carefully. I can’t marry you—”
“What!” he interrupted. “Aw, hell naw!”
“Let me explain.”
“Explain? What the hell is there to explain? I don’t know about you, but what we shared last night was more than just sex for me.” He picked up a chair arm from the left over debris on the floor and paced.
Nefertiti kept her voice calm and quiet. “I can’t marry you because—”
“No! I’m sick of this.” He smacked his hand with the arm of the chair. “You can screw the hell out of me, but marriage… Oh you couldn’t dare lower your standards to marry this beast. You’re no better than the rest of them. Why don’t you go cower in the corner with them?”
She stalked up on him and poked him in the chest with her finger. “Now who’s projecting? This is stupid. When you’re ready to have a grown up discussion about my reasons, you know how to find me.”
He grabbed her wrist. “For years I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, but now… now I can see you are the one who isn’t good enough for me.”
“And I see you’re nothing but a spoiled brat. If you don’t get your way, you throw a tantrum.” She snatched the arm of the chair from him. “You’re almost forty. Grow the hell up, Bruce.” She stalked out.
“Nefertiti!”
“Would you please pass the syrup?” Catherine asked her father. She and Roy had arrived in Phoenix, Arizona, last night. Their parents lived in a three-bedroom ranch home in an upper middle-class retirement community.
“Here you go.” He handed her the syrup, but did not take his stormy blue eyes off Roy. He crossed his arms over his chest and continued to stare. Though well into his sixties, he didn’t look a day over fifty. His full head of thick silver hair, the envy of all the men on the golf course, was the only feature giving any indication of his age. Tall with a medium build, he walked three miles a day to stay in shape.
“Thank you.” She’d asked for the syrup to help break the tension. They hadn’t mentioned Bruce’s takeover attempt of Dixon Textiles, thought obviously Henry Dixon already knew. Catherine looked to her mother for assistance in diffusing the situation. Karen had also aged nicely: her silver hair was cropped short, her slender figure didn’t sag anywhere and her sparkling brown eyes were filled with life.
Karen smiled and clapped her hands together. “It’s so nice to have my babies home.” Henry grumbled. Karen continued as if he hadn’t made a sound. “I just thank the good Lord for giving to us so abundantly. I’ve been watching the relief efforts for those poor people in Illinois. They’ve lost everything.”
“Oh come on, Karen, they have insurance,” Henry said without taking his eyes off his son. “They’ll rebuild just as they have every other time tornadoes hit. And my tax dollars will be wasted to help them do it. What amazes me is they choose to live in tornado valley. This is bound to happen again.”
Roy shifted in his chair and forked the eggs on his plate.
“I’m not talking about property, Henry. As you’ve so eloquently pointed out, property can be replaced. But yesterday the news interviewed this poor woman who lost her son. He was ripped from her arms and died from his injuries.” She placed her hand on Roy’s. “I don’t know what I’d do if my baby boy couldn’t come home. Yes, I thank the Lord for giving to us so abundantly.”
Henry’s facial features and body language softened as he watched his wife hug Roy. Catherine always marveled at the way her mother handled their father. She’d be willing to lay odds her mother was the reason Roy had received twenty-five percent of Dixon Textiles. Her mother always strove to give to her babies equally.
Henry released a long drawn out breath, then turned his attention to Catherine. “How much of the company has Maxwell acquired?”
“Thirty-eight percent.” She nervously sucked her bottom lip.
He dragged his hands over his face. “I’m sorry, honey, but…” He shifted in the chair. The pain she saw in his eyes added fuel to her hatred of Bruce. “You know the mill hasn’t been very profitable in years. I can’t outspend Maxwell.”
Deflated and defeated—two ways she never thought she’d see her father. Yet another reason to hate that monster Bruce Maxwell. An awkward silence filled the room. Regret filled her. I should have handled this on my own.
Henry’s soft touch on her cheek broke her out of her musing. “Your mother’s right. Property isn’t important. Possessions aren’t.”
“But, Daddy, the mill is my life.”
“I blame myself for that.” He sighed and withdrew his hand. “You’re barely thirty-five, beautiful, intelligent and personable. The mill should not be your life.”
Panic raced through her. Why didn’t her father understand that Dixon Textiles was more than a possession to her? She’d nurtured and cared for the company as though it was were her baby. How could he give up without a fight?
Roy smacked the table as he stood. “How can you say that shit, Dad? Catherine has worked her ass off for you. And now you’re turning your back on her!”
One thing Catherine could always count on was Roy coming to her defense. If she could adjust his protective streak to kick in before he did things to ruin her life instead of after the fact, she’d be good to go. In this instance, she wished he’d back off. �
�I’m not asking for money. I just need you to call in a few favors from your friends that still hold stock in the company. Roy can pay 110 percent of the value of the stock,” she added in hopes of appeasing Roy so he’d feel he was protecting her and remain quiet, “but no one is returning my calls.”
Chest puffed out, Roy crossed his arms. “Yes, I have the money. I just need your connections, Dad, so I can help Catherine.”
That backfired, Catherine thought.
“If I’m not mistaken,” Henry said calmly, “you’re the reason for this whole fiasco, so don’t expect me to be impressed by your belated show of loyalty.”
Karen tugged on Roy’s shirt. “Please sit.”
Face reddened, Roy yanked the chair from under the table, then retook his seat.
Henry faced his daughter. “Of course I’ll make the calls. I’ll do whatever I can to set things straight.”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“Are you all right?” Karen crossed the bedroom to her husband. Initially, the thought of moving from a thirty-room home that sat on twelve acres of land to a seven room house that sat on a half acre hadn’t appealed to Karen. Everyone knew her in Dixon, but in Phoenix, she was just another wife of a retiree. Adjusting her way of thinking had taken time, and now she wished they’d moved away sooner.
Henry leaned against the frame of the open sliding door. “I’m worried about them.” He held his hand out for Karen. “I’ve failed them both.” He pulled her into his embrace.
“You’re a wonderful father.”
“Then tell me why my daughter is working herself to death and my son is allergic to work. Neither extreme is what I wanted for them. But Catherine…” He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “At least Roy realizes life is there to live. He knows joy.”
Helplessness weighed her down as her husband entered and slouched into his easy chair. He seemed to age years right before her eyes. She closed the screen to the sliding door, then sat across Henry’s lap and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Then I’m to blame also. I pampered Roy. Still do, and I encouraged Catherine to spend time at the mill. I’m their mother. I should have—”
Beauty and the Beast Page 11
