Uncovering Annabelle

by N. J. Walters

  Annabelle slumped back onto the stool behind her and for the first time noticed the flow of cool air circulating in the room. Her thoughts turned to dinner tonight and she shivered, but not because she was cold. It didn’t matter that the air-conditioning was working because Annabelle was still hot.

  Chapter Three

  Getting through the rest of the afternoon at work was a chore. The clock ticked off the minutes at a snail’s pace. Five minutes seemed to take an hour. Annabelle loved her job, but today she wished the workday would end. Somehow she managed to get some actual work done.

  She retreated to her office for most of the afternoon after one of her part-timers showed up for her shift. Her nerves frayed at the thought of the upcoming evening, Annabelle was driven to her secret vice—chocolate. It was for emergencies only, as it seemed to go straight to her hips whenever she ate it, but sometimes there was nothing else to do but give in to the craving. The heat made it impossible for her to keep her favorite dark chocolate in her desk. Imported dark chocolate was her weakness. But thank God for those wonderful makers of candy-coated chocolate that didn’t melt. She devoured the entire bag while she worked, one at a time, sucking all the candy off until nothing was left but the chocolate.

  Annabelle buried herself in paperwork until closing time, eternally grateful that it was Friday and she wasn’t scheduled to work tomorrow. The library was open on Saturday, but only for four hours, and the small staff rotated the shift.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when she closed the library promptly at half past five and locked the door behind her. The drive home took no time and she was soon pulling her little blue compact car into her parking space at the small apartment building where she rented. It wasn’t a real apartment building, but a converted Victorian home with four apartments of various sizes. Annabelle rented the smaller one-bedroom on the top floor. She would buy a house as soon as one she liked came on the market. For now, her apartment more than suited her needs.

  She kept to her routine, stopping to collect her mail, which she’d sorted through as she climbed the stairs to the top floor. It consisted of junk mail and her monthly book review magazine. What a sad commentary on her life. Of course, most correspondence was electronic these days. Her mother had always written letters to her when she’d been in college. Annabelle still missed getting those envelopes with the familiar handwriting in the mail. She dug her key out of her purse and let herself into her apartment.

  The minute she walked through the door, she felt more at ease. She dumped her purse and mail on the small table just inside the front door and retreated to the bathroom, tugging off her work clothes as she went.

  What she needed was a bath to relax and settle her nerves. While the water was running into the tub, she dumped in a handful of lavender bath crystals. The warm water soothed away some of her edginess and she allowed herself to soak for a good twenty minutes before pulling the plug.

  Her skin felt extra sensitive to the touch. Toweling off was almost a sensual experience. By the time she was done, her nipples were taut and she was no longer relaxed.

  She was more aware of her body than usual and found sensual pleasure in stroking the lotion over her legs, across her belly and breasts and even on her backside. She didn’t know what might happen after dinner this evening and wanted to be prepared. She could all too easily imagine Mike running his hands over her. She bit her bottom lip to hold back a moan of pleasure. Her skin began to tingle and took on a rosy glow.

  Finished in the bathroom, she made her way to her bedroom. There was no choice to be made about her underwear. She only owned white cotton. For once in her life, she wished she’d indulged in satin or silk. Maybe even in a blue or deep purple color. As she pulled on her white cotton bra, she made a mental note to go shopping for at least a few new things. Even white satin and lace would look better than plain cotton, and it would probably feel wonderful against her skin. Sensual. And darn it, she deserved to feel that way, even if she was the only one who ever knew what she was wearing underneath her clothes.

  Thigh-high silk stockings would have been quite daring to wear on her date, but she didn’t own any. Sensible nylon pantyhose filled her dresser drawers and, with the heat wave they were having, only an idiot would wear them. So she made the decision to leave her legs bare. They were smooth and soft after her bath. She ran her fingers over her thighs and calves, pleased with the effect.

  Her hair was her next dilemma. Put it up or leave it down? She’d seriously contemplated leaving it down, but decided against it. She never wore her hair down. That would draw too much attention to her if she saw anyone she knew. So she reluctantly bundled it back up into a new bun.

  She didn’t use much makeup, so a touch of mascara and lipstick were all she needed. Now she was ready to finish getting dressed.

  Ten minutes later, Annabelle peered around the bedroom in utter dismay. There was clothing strewn across the bed, on the floor and over the wicker chair in the corner. It was the age-old problem of all women as they prepared for that most important date—she didn’t have anything to wear. Nothing she owned seemed appropriate for dinner with Mike. The long skirts and dresses were suitable for work, but she wanted something that made her look if not sexy, then at least nice.

  She stomped back to the closet and peered at the few remaining hangers looking for inspiration. Something. Anything. She wanted to be casual enough so that anyone who saw them wouldn’t make too much of them having dinner together. In future, she would cook for them. Or maybe they’d just skip food and go straight to bed. Why hadn’t she thought of that before agreeing to dinner?

  No. They had to come to terms. Experience had taught Annabelle that men weren’t attracted to her. Not for long, anyway. They seemed to like her body well enough, but quickly found her to be boring—in bed and out.

  She was a homebody and saw no reason to change herself because some guy thought she wasn’t exciting or flashy enough. Her hobbies ran to cooking and reading, not barhopping and dancing.

  And if she was honest, she’d found the kisses and caresses of the men she’d dated to be uninspiring, and sometimes downright boring. She’d begun to believe she really wasn’t a sexual person until she’d laid eyes on Mike. Then, like a dormant volcano, all those emotions and yearnings had bubbled up to the surface and threatened to explode.

  This was a chance for her to fully experience her sexuality, and she was more than ready to explore that previously hidden side of herself. Especially with a man who attracted her as much as Mike did. She would settle for a no-strings affair, one that was their business. No one else needed to know.

  She didn’t think that he’d object. Didn’t every man want a woman who was willing to have sex with him but didn’t want a commitment? She thought so. Or at least that’s what most of the popular women’s magazines bemoaned.

  She wanted more than sex. She wanted her fantasies fulfilled and she sensed that Mike was the man who would not only make her dreams a reality but would enjoy them as well. And to be fair, she wouldn’t mind fulfilling a few of his fantasies as well. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms tight around her waist, trying to envision what they might entail.

  She imagined Mike standing behind her with her naked and him fully clothed. He would gaze at her hungrily as she ran her hands over her breasts, lifting and cupping them for his inspection. She would taunt him with her body until he wanted her so much his restraint broke.

  Annabelle was a little bit fuzzy on what would happen then, but she knew Mike would think of something. Unfortunately, nothing would happen unless she got some clothes on so that she and Mike could actually go out together. And while her momentary flight of imagination had been great, the contents of her closet still didn’t look any better.

  A quick glance at her watch reminded her that it was ten to seven. Time was running out. From the rack she plucked a long skirted dress with yellow daisies printed on a black background. The neck was scooped, but not too low, and the
re was a band that ran under her breasts and tied in the back. Nothing spectacular, but she always felt good when she wore it.

  She slipped it on, and then turned first right and then left as she surveyed herself in the mirror. Not bad. On an impulse, she redid the tie in the back of the dress, pulling it tighter before making a bow. The top of the dress clung to her upper body and emphasized her chest. They were substantial breasts, so she might as well make use of them. She decided she liked the whole effect, as drawing the eye to her breasts made her hips and waist look smaller. It made her look shapely. Who knew? She twirled in a circle and laughed at her own daring.

  A knock came on her front door. She stopped spinning and grabbed the dresser for balance before giving herself one last peek in the mirror. A rosy color stained her cheeks, as much from anticipation as from all the whirling about. This was as good as it got and was actually better than she’d hoped for. She was ready, and not a moment too soon.

  Annabelle closed the door on the mess in her bedroom and hurried toward the front door. She swung it open to greet Mike, but could only stare. Gone were the jeans and T-shirt he’d worn earlier in the day. He was dressed in dark dress pants and a crisp white shirt that emphasized his tan. He smiled and stepped into her apartment. His large presence filled the room, making it seem smaller.

  “For you.” Mike offered her a bouquet of violets, which she hadn’t noticed until now. How could she notice flowers when Mike was standing in front of her looking sexy as sin and smelling like the air after a summer rain?

  “Thank you, they’re beautiful.” The response was automatic but heartfelt as she took the offering and buried her nose in the dainty flowers. No man had ever given her flowers before. Tears formed in her eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned away before Mike could see how much his gift had touched her. “I’ll just put them in water.”

  Hoping she’d have time enough to regain her composure, she disappeared into the kitchen, still clutching the bouquet tightly to her chest. Violets were her absolute favorite flowers. She loved the color and the texture of them and on rare occasions bought them for herself. Had Mike asked at the nearby flower shop or had it been a lucky guess? She chewed her bottom lip as she contemplated the fact that the florist might know that Mike was buying them for her. Better for her peace of mind if she assumed it was a lucky guess.

  She set the bundle on the counter and rummaged around the cupboard until she found a small Mason jar. She had a vase, but somehow it didn’t seem to fit with the delicate wildflowers. She was careful as she removed the plastic wrapper and placed the flowers into the makeshift vase before adding water. Using a kitchen towel, she dried her hands and dabbed at her eyes.

  They were such a thoughtful and totally unexpected gift. She absently rubbed the area over her heart before taking a deep, fortifying breath and picking up the arrangement. Emotions firmly under control, she carried the flowers back to the living room and set them on the coffee table.

  Mike reached out and folded his fingers around hers. “You look beautiful.” He used his grip on her hand to twirl her in a circle. The hem of her dress swirled around her legs.

  “Thank you.” She noted that his eyes were drawn to her breasts and she was suddenly uncomfortable. It was one thing to want to be the center of Mike’s sexual attention. It was quite another to actually experience it.

  He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. One at a time, his lips skimmed over them. Then his tongue slid between each one, licking each finger. His tongue was warm and moist against her skin. Finally, he captured her middle finger in his mouth and sucked on it even as his teeth carefully scraped the sides.

  Annabelle was uncomfortable for an entirely different reason. Never would she have believed her fingers could produce such a sensual reaction in her. They were fingers. Everyone had them, but what Mike was doing to them made them feel entirely different. It was exactly like what had happened this afternoon when he’d touched her neck. When Mike touched her, ordinary body parts became centers of pleasure.

  The sensations from her finger traveled up her hand and then flowed through her entire body, leaving her skin hot and prickly. Her breasts were heavy, her clothing confining. An ache grew between her legs. She felt empty and needy. Annabelle closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the sexual teasing.

  “Nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen,” Mike murmured in between caresses. “You have my word.”

  Annabelle nodded, unable to speak. She opened her eyes to find Mike staring at her, totally focused on her reaction. Seeming satisfied with her response, he released her finger and kissed the palm of her hand before finally releasing her.

  “We’d better get going or we’ll be late for our dinner reservations.” Mike placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the front door. Annabelle had the presence of mind to collect a light sweater, along with her purse and keys. She shut the door firmly behind her and locked it. With any luck she wouldn’t be coming home alone tonight—that is, if she managed to make it home at all.

  Chapter Four

  Mike seated Annabelle at their table at Gino’s, an upscale Italian restaurant and one of the nicer places in town. The food was delicious and the atmosphere laid-back. Mike was thankful that he’d had the forethought to call ahead and request a secluded spot in a quiet corner. This table suited him perfectly. Tucked away in a darkened corner, lit by soft lighting and candlelight and partially hidden by potted plants, it had privacy that most of the others lacked.

  The table was draped with a crisp white tablecloth, which flowed almost to the floor. Linen napkins, fine china and crystal adorned the top. A single red rose floated in a cut glass bowl, while a fat white pillar candle glowed from a silver holder. Annabelle looked right at home in such an elegant setting.

  With her hair coiled up and her long flowing dress, she looked sweet and alluring, ethereal, like something out of a painting. And totally untouchable. That is, until you noticed the bright colors of the flowers on her dress, which hinted at the passionate woman hiding beneath the demure clothing.

  When he’d picked her up this evening, he’d immediately noticed that the dress was pulled tighter than usual, showcasing her gorgeous breasts to perfection. Most surprising was the impulse he’d had to loosen the belt or cover her with a wrap. He didn’t want any other man getting a glimpse of those lush breasts. In all his years, Mike had never felt this possessive over a woman. And they’d done nothing more than kiss.

  His own nervousness had caught him by surprise. He’d dated frequently over the years, but not seriously. The women he dated were looking for the same thing he was—some fun and the occasional sexual romp. He enjoyed women and treated them well.

  This attraction to Annabelle was different. Never in his life had he put so much effort into getting a date with a woman. Well, not since Anna White in tenth grade. But this went way beyond anything he’d ever felt before.

  The strange thing was, rather than worry about it, he was reveling in it. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he’d turned thirty-four a few months back. He owned his own company, had a home and friends, but now he wanted more.

  Maybe he’d simply been waiting for Annabelle. He was smart enough to look beyond a woman’s appearance to what lay beneath. Annabelle had substance. Not that she wasn’t pretty. She was, but it was an understated beauty that would only get better with age.

  He’d taken it upon himself to learn as much as he could about her, without being too obvious about it. Bringing up her name casually in conversation with friends had given him some information, and all of it confirmed what he felt about her. Annabelle was a kind, intelligent, giving woman. Everyone who knew her liked her, men and women, young and old, and everyone in between.

  Right now, she was beginning to look uncomfortable and he realized he’d been quietly staring at her. That wouldn’t do. He wanted her to relax, to feel as though she could let go and be herself around hi
m.

  “Have you eaten here before?” Casual conversation would put her at ease, and besides, he really wanted to know everything there was to know about this fascinating woman.

  Annabelle smiled shyly. “No. I’ve wanted to try it, but it seemed to be the kind of place you’d wait and go with someone special.”

  Before Mike could comment, their waiter arrived at their table with menus. After the waiter took their order for two glasses of white wine and told them the specials, he left them alone to peruse the menus. Mike made some suggestions, having eaten here before, and by the time the waiter returned with their drinks and a basket of warm yeasty bread and fresh butter, they had made their selections.

  “We’ll both have garden salads to start with and the lady will have the spaghetti.” Mike collected Annabelle’s menu and handed both of them back to the waiter. “I’ll have the lasagna.” The waiter took their order and left.

  Annabelle sipped nervously at her drink. “I hope the pasta doesn’t have too much garlic. It makes my breath awful.” She set her wineglass down with a thump and buried her head in her hands. “I can’t believe I said that.” She looked at him imploringly. “Please tell me I didn’t say that.”

  Mike laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “You said it, but I thought it as well.” He motioned to the basket of bread sitting in the middle of the table. “Why do you think that’s not garlic bread?”

  Annabelle giggled and then smiled at him. In that moment, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. If he lived to be a hundred, he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of looking at her.

  That lighthearted exchange set the tone for their evening. They both relaxed and talked about their work and the goings-on in town. Mike was both surprised and pleased to discover that Annabelle knew his company specialized in renovations and building the occasional custom home. He found himself telling her about the projects he was working on at the moment. She was so good at drawing him out they had eaten half their meal before he realized she’d said little about herself.