One-Click Buy: December 2009 Silhouette Desire

by Susan Mallery

  By the time she reached Josh’s house, she was racing. She dropped the ingredients for her dinner preparations in the kitchen. She put on a large pot of water to boil, and set to work slicing onions and garlic together with mushrooms and bacon for the fettuccine she’d decided on. At least the meal was quick and easy to prepare.

  She hummed to herself as the aromas from the fry pan blended together and she added the ribbons of fresh pasta to the boiling water before stirring in cream and parmesan to the ingredients in the pan. The fresh pasta was ready in minutes and, once drained and lightly tossed with the sauce, she slid the whole mixture into a large shallow bowl, covered it with foil and set it in the oven to keep warm.

  A quick cleanup in the kitchen and she was ready to race upstairs to the master bedroom where she stripped off her work clothes and underwear and slid into the nightgown and peignoir. She took a minute to freshen her fragrance, the spritz between her breasts sending a shimmer of something more to spiral through her.

  The swish of her nightgown between her thighs as she made her way back downstairs started up a thrill of longing that beat from her core. She couldn’t wait for Josh to arrive home. A smile danced across her lips. There was something deliciously decadent about not wearing any undergarments. It ranked right up there with skinny-dipping in the rain.

  Callie distracted herself by setting the dining room table and searched out a couple of candles to dress it up a little. She remembered seeing some lovely squat scented candles in the living room the last time she was here.

  In the living room her eyes were inexorably drawn to the bookcase and, more particularly, to the small chest that sat there. In it lay the seed of Josh’s bitterness. The only physical evidence he had to say who his father really was.

  Callie reached out and let her fingers rest on the lid. What would Josh be like now, she wondered, if those letters had never existed? Would he have been as driven to triumph in his chosen market? Had his very need for revenge been the catalyst that saw him reach the heights he knew today or would he have gotten there anyway? Had his father, by his neglect, inversely created Josh’s success?

  In the distance she heard a door slam and she jumped, knocking the box. Surprisingly, the lid jumped, too. Josh hadn’t relocked it. She lifted the lid cautiously, as if doing so would unleash the miseries of Pandora’s box, then let the lid drop closed again. Obviously, he’d forgotten.

  Footsteps echoed on the parquet floor of the entrance hall as Josh came through from the garage. She snatched her hand away and wheeled from the bookcase, all thoughts of the box and its contents banished from her mind as he entered the room.

  “Something smells good,” he commented. “I was worried you might be late. I got a call about the tower.”

  “Nothing was going to stop me being here with you tonight,” Callie said as she eased into his embrace and lifted her face for his kiss.

  Her heart beat double-time in her chest by the time he released her.

  “Dinner’s ready,” she said, slipping from his arms. “I was just getting some candles for the table.”

  “It can wait,” Josh growled, reaching for her again. “Right now I want you.”

  “Right now?”

  Excitement thrilled through her.

  “Oh, yes.”

  Josh swept her up into his arms and headed straight up the stairs, his breath barely showing signs of any strain. In his bedroom he kicked the door closed behind them and gently lowered her to her feet.

  “I like this,” he said, pushing aside her peignoir and sweeping his hand over the slinky fabric of her nightgown.

  “It feels beautiful, but—” his hand slid under the hem of the gown and pushed upward until he cupped her bottom “—I like the feel of you more.”

  “It’s your early Christmas gift,” Callie gasped.

  Rational thought fled her mind as his fingers slid over her buttocks and then traced down until they reached the cleft between her thighs. Heat and moisture gathered there as his fingers teased her sensitive flesh.

  “So that means I get to unwrap it,” he said with a smile.

  Josh withdrew his hand, quickly slipped out of his jacket and yanked his tie out from under the collar of his shirt. Several buttons popped as he undid his shirt and pulled it free from his trousers. Callie could only stand and watch as he stripped down to his black briefs, and tremble as he walked toward her—his eyes darkest blue, his face a mask of determined perfection.

  He reached for her and eased the peignoir from her shoulders, stopping to kiss each exposed inch of flesh until she quivered with desire. He eased her back onto the bed and trailed his fingers from her ankles upward to the hem of the gown, then, with his hands clenched in the satin, he pushed the fabric up, exposing her to him.

  His eyes darkened even more as he gazed upon her. If it were possible, she felt even wetter, more primed for him than she was already. And when he bent his head to her, taking her in his mouth, swirling her flesh with his tongue, grazing her nerve endings ever so softly with his teeth, she let her eyes close, her head drop back, and gave herself over to sensation.

  It was dark by the time they finally made their way back downstairs to eat dinner. Even though the meal had dried out somewhat in the oven, that did nothing to deter their appetite. Eventually, they took their glasses and the opened bottle of wine upstairs to attend to other, undiminished hungers.

  Afterwards, Josh fell into a deep slumber. Despite the lateness and her own weariness, Callie couldn’t sleep. Instead, she watched the man at her side, bathed in silver strands of moonlight, and never more beautiful to her than he’d ever been before. Her heart swelled with the solid truth that she finally allowed herself to admit. She loved him. Totally, and wholly.

  She wished she could do something, anything, to release him from the demons that drove him. To allow him the surcease of acceptance. But that was something only he could attain. He had to want it, embrace it.

  His plans for revenge against Bruce Palmer and his family were what propelled him, what gave his work purpose. But what of the man? Could he ever let go of the bitterness inside, even if he saw his plan through? And what of the damage to the Palmers?

  Callie knew what Bruce had done all those years ago was unforgivable, but time had a way of blurring the edges. Even though his behaviour with Josh’s mother had been reprehensible, his life afterwards had been anything but. Callie was certain he hadn’t so much as put a foot wrong in all the years since. He’d built his family and his business and he’d given to the community and the country unstintingly; hence the accolade of the upcoming consular position.

  Maybe his behaviour had been his own way of compensating for the way he’d treated Josh and his mother. Who knew? But Callie understood better than most that his appointment as the honorary consul to Guildara was based on Bruce Palmer, the man. The man he was now.

  Was it fair to destroy that? She didn’t think so. Bruce still had so much good to give to the world. If Josh had his way, the older man would be destroyed. Pilloried in the public eye. Despite what he’d done to Josh, Callie still owed it to Bruce not to let that happen.

  She slid from the bed and reached for her peignoir, not even fully understanding what she was about to do, just knowing in her heart of hearts that she had to do it. She had to destroy the contents of that box before Josh could use them against Bruce. Hopefully, then Josh could begin to heal the scar on his own heart.

  Moonlight shone bright into the sitting room, but even if it had been pitch dark Callie knew she’d unerringly be able to find her target. She took the box from its place on the bookshelf. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm as she lifted the lid and removed the stack of envelopes inside.

  She knew she had no right to do this. No right at all. But someone had to stop the cycle of hurt. Someone had to put an end to the anger and the accusations.

  She moved over to the deep fireplace set into the wall and knelt on the hearth. She knew she’d seen a firelighter somewhere i
n the inglenook. Her fingers closed over the very item she was looking for and she breathed a silent prayer of thanks.

  Callie set the firelighter on the hearth next to the bundle of letters and undid the ribbon that bound them together. A twinge of sorrow cut through her at the thought that the love contained within the words on those pages would be destroyed forever. But, she rationalised, that very love had wrought the complete opposite effect. And that effect had to be stopped now.

  She lifted one envelope from the top of the stack and held it over the grate, her fingers shaking as she clicked the small ignition switch on the firelighter over and over again. A faint blue spark appeared at the end of the firelighter. A blue spark that with a small hiss turned into a golden flame.

  She could feel the tears now, feel them burn within her eyes and scald her cheeks as she put the flame to the paper. The edge of the envelope lit up, glowing briefly before darkness consumed it, blackening the paper even as its contents had blackened Josh’s heart.

  Callie was sobbing now, lifting the next envelope and the next, adding them to the tiny blaze.

  Light unexpectedly flooded the room and Callie heard a male shout. Josh peremptorily pushed her aside, a small fire extinguisher in his hands. He dealt with the flames, snatching the lesser-damaged letters from the fireplace and spreading them on the hearth where they smouldered like the fury etched on his face.

  Looking up into his eyes, Callie knew this was the end of all she’d hoped for. The end of all her dreams. He’d never forgive her for this. Never understand that she’d done it for him.

  Eleven

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Josh ground out through a jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth would shatter.

  Callie just looked at him in horror.

  Rage soared through him like a live creature, consuming reason and making his vision blur angry and red. He wanted to grab her, shake the truth from her, but he knew if he caved in to that urge he’d be unaccountable for his actions.

  As if she could read his mind, she scooted out of his reach and drew upright, fear painting her already pale features even more pallid.

  “I had to do it, Josh.”

  “Had to? You have no right. Those are my private property. You know what they are to me.”

  Josh fought to control his temper when all he really wanted to do was throw her bodily from the house.

  “I know Bruce Palmer is your father. I can’t let you use those letters against him.”

  “You can’t?” he repeated incredulously. “It has nothing to do with you. Absolutely nothing.”

  “But it does, don’t you see? I have to protect them. They saved me from the most awful life, Josh. I had hit my lowest ebb. They saved me! You have no idea. I owe it to them to do everything in my power to stop you from destroying them and yourself in the process.”

  “You set out to ensnare me from the beginning, didn’t you?” he accused, taking a step toward her, his hands clenched into fists at his side. “This, everything, it’s all been one lie after another.”

  “No! I didn’t even want to take your damn job. I loved my work with Irene,” she protested.

  “Then why? Why did you come to work with me?”

  “You only wanted me to hurt them. What does it matter?”

  “Why did you come to work with me?” He enunciated each word so carefully he thought his mind would burst with the concentration it took.

  Callie dropped her head. When she spoke he was hard-pressed to hear her.

  “Irene wanted me to spy on you.”

  “Spy? On me?” Josh let loose a laugh that echoed hollowly through the room. “So you were behind the Flinders information leak. Well, isn’t that just kismet. All along I thought you were mine and there you were, betraying me to the very scum that made my mother’s life a living hell.”

  Callie flinched at the harshness of his words but he couldn’t feel any sympathy for the emotional blow he’d struck her.

  “Josh, this anger you bear toward him—it’s eating you up inside. It’s taking away everything decent, everything your mother raised you to be, and replacing it with something cruel and vindictive. Have you ever actually read those letters?” She flung a hand at the charred envelopes on the hearth.

  “I read them once. That was enough.”

  “Then you really don’t understand and you never will. I had to get rid of them before they consumed everything that I love in you.”

  “Love?” He felt as if something vile had crawled into his mouth as he said the word. “You’re trying to tell me that you love me?”

  “I do!” she cried, her hands now clenched together in front of her. “I tried not to. Lord knows, it was the last thing I expected or wanted. I couldn’t have been with you the way we have if I didn’t love you. Josh, you’re the first man I’ve made love with.”

  “Don’t lie to me. You were no shrinking virgin when I took you.”

  “No, I wasn’t, but I’m telling you the truth. I made some choices about sex when I was young—choices that had nothing to do with emotion. On the streets a girl can get to the stage where she’ll do almost anything for a meal and shelter in the middle of a freezing winter night, especially when she hasn’t eaten in a week. I’m not proud of what I did, but the fact remains I did what I had to do to survive. But after that last time I swore to myself that I’d rather die than let anyone touch me like that again—unless I loved him and trusted him, like I love and trust you. Josh, I never knew sex could be anything more. I never knew lovemaking could be like it is with you.”

  There was a painful thread of truth in her voice that made Josh step back and take stock. She obviously believed she loved him, which left only one more thing.

  “If that’s true, then you now have to make a choice, don’t you?”

  “Choice?” Confusion rippled over her features.

  “Stand by me or stick with the Palmers.”

  “I…”

  Her hesitation told him all he needed to know. Josh snorted in disgust. “I thought so. You still choose them, don’t you?”

  Callie didn’t speak.

  “Get out,” he said, his voice near feral with resentment. “Get out of my house, get out of my life. I don’t want you. Get out now!”

  He tried to find some satisfaction in how swiftly she left the room and flew up the stairs. In minutes she was back down, fully dressed and carrying her overnight bag and handbag.

  “Josh,” she implored from the doorway, “please rethink this. Promise me you’ll read the letters again. Really read them this time. Talk to me when you’ve calmed down, when you can see reason.”

  “Oh, I see reason just fine. You know, you might not be a Palmer by birth, but you’re no different from them at all. You’re still cut from the same rotten cloth.”

  The resounding echo of the front door slamming behind her told him he’d made his mark, and yet, in the lingering stench of burned promises all he could feel was an emptiness that cut to his spirit and left him bleeding inside.

  Love. What did she know about love? If she loved him, she’d stand by him, not try to undermine what he’d planned since he was eighteen years old.

  He knelt and picked up the remains of her destruction and thanked his lucky stars that he’d missed her presence in the bed and awakened. If he hadn’t, she’d have destroyed everything.

  A couple of the letters were charred beyond redemption but others had escaped the damage of the flames and the extinguisher. He returned those to the box and carefully replaced it on the bookcase. There was still enough damning evidence to do what he wanted, and he would do it. He’d see this thing through to its bitter end.

  Callie entered her office in the Palmer Enterprises tower and fought back the emptiness that threatened to swamp her. She should be relieved that she still had a job to come back to. A job she’d secured by spying on Josh and subsequently ensuring Palmers’ financial viability in the marketplace.

  Reluctance n
ow dogged her every step. In the past, she couldn’t wait to start each day at Irene’s side. Everything had brought her a measure of satisfaction and a sense of knowing she’d completed a job well done. But it was as if she operated in shades of grey. There was no colour in her life, no joy.

  From the time she’d called a taxi on her mobile phone, from the top of Josh’s driveway, until the second she’d walked back into Irene’s business suite she’d been encased in ice. It was only as she’d opened her handbag and seen that she still had Josh’s notes inside that some sense of life had permeated the frozen shell around her. That life had brought pain. Unbearable, searing pain.

  She’d fisted the sheets of paper into a knot and cast them in her wastepaper bin. They’d sat there all day, a constant reminder of a man so hell-bent on revenge that he was incapable of listening to reason. The hands on her office clock had edged their way to 6:00 p.m. when she finally gave in. If she could give the Palmers one more strength, one more piece of armour in this battle between Josh and them, she’d darn well do it.

  She smoothed out the sheets and took them straight through to Irene, who was still at her desk.

  “I believe you might find these of some use.”

  “What are they?” Irene took the creased papers and set them in front of her, adjusting her reading glasses on the tip of her nose. She scanned them for a few minutes then looked up over the lenses. “Callie, you realise what these are, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do. They were the last thing I worked on before…” she faltered.

  She couldn’t say the words without her throat closing up as if it had suddenly swollen on the lies she’d been forced to live in this desperate tussle between two families.

  Irene removed her glasses and pinned Callie under her impenetrable grey stare. “I know this whole situation with Tremont asked a great deal more of you than we anticipated. You can’t let it get to you, you know. If you’re going to succeed in this world, you have to do what’s right—and in this case you definitely did what is right.”