"Wait a minute. I think I have most of the puzzle now." Before she could offer her deduction, however, the waitress came back to clear the dishes and take their dessert order.
As soon as the woman walked away, she said, "Here's how it looks to me. Very simply, you had your entire life planned out before you were born. Unfortunately, you aren't terribly happy with the role you've been given to play, but being the good son, you would never rebel. So you're majoring in business, as expected, instead of..."
She gestured for him to complete the sentence, but he looked confused. "I'm betting there's some other career that would make you happier than taking over the leadership of Hamilton-Greene."
He began shredding his paper napkin. "I never gave it any thought."
"I don't believe that. There must be something. Tell me this—what did you want to be before they told you who you were?" His napkin was quickly becoming a small pile of strips. "Okay, we can come back to that one. Why did you tell me you were rich? I would never have asked."
He shrugged. "It's the one piece of information that explains everything about me. It seemed more expedient to get it out of the way. Now you can start telling me about you."
Though she felt there was still a piece missing from Howard's puzzle, she was temporarily satisfied with what she did have. Since he hadn't asked any specific questions, she told him some stories that gave him glimpses into her happy childhood, her turbulent teen years in Dayton and how her dreams of stardom had brought her to New York two years ago.
The big city was a hell of an eye-opener for most people. For an eighteen-year-old Ohio girl, it was like being dropped on another planet inhabited by flesh-eating aliens. Reality set in swiftly and without mercy.
The talent her high school drama coach had raved about was actually mediocre. The Italian coloring, pretty face and cute little figure she'd been complimented on back home were no more than average for a would-be actress. There simply wasn't anything exceptional or unique about her.
But Barbara had more persistence than many other hopefuls. She registered for classes at NYU to improve her acting skills and volunteered to work for free backstage at an off-off-Broadway theater.
It was at that theater that she had landed a small part in a briefly successful show six months ago, but nothing else had come through before or since. According to her plan, she should be preparing to leave for Hollywood soon.
However, the prospect of moving to the West Coast and starting from scratch no longer held any appeal. She had carved out a pleasant life for herself in New York and had even registered for some business classes at college with thoughts of upgrading her primary income source.
Though she accepted the fact that, short of a miracle, stardom was out of her reach, she still put in time at the theater and auditioned for roles she had a shot at. She loved it too much not to hold on to a piece of her dream.
Howard was much more at ease once the focus was on her, and his obvious fascination had her entertaining him much longer than she'd intended. It wasn't until she caught him stifling a yawn that she checked her watch.
"Good grief! It's after three. I was only kidding about keeping you here all night."
"Believe me, I have thoroughly enjoyed my captivity," he said with a grin that made her heart go thump again.
There was a brief tug-of-war over the check, which she won mainly because she knew the waitress, but he won the battle over accompanying her to her apartment in Queens in a cab rather than her taking the subway.
"Have you had enough time to think about it?" Barbara asked after they were on their way.
Howard narrowed his eyes in thought. "I seem to have forgotten the question."
She doubted that, but repeated it anyway. "What career would you have chosen if you were Howard Jones instead of Howard Hamilton?" He didn't move a muscle, but she sensed his mental squirming. "Be honest, now."
"You're going to laugh."
"Only if you do first."
He turned his head away and murmured, "I draw a little."
"What kind of drawing? Like an architect or an artist?"
"Um, I, uh, like to draw cartoon characters and I do some caricatures. I'm pretty good."
She gently brought his face back toward her. "I bet you're better than pretty good. What would you do with your talent if you had the chance? Animation or comics?"
When he saw she was truly interested, his eyes sparkled in response. "I think animation. When I was very young, I imagined being the creator of my own animated super-hero series."
She could almost hear her mom warning her against what she was thinking. She and Howard were barely acquaintances, let alone close enough friends for her to meddle in his life. And yet, she couldn't stand to see someone give up his dream without even trying. When they reached her apartment she said, "Come in with me. We have work to do."
It wasn't until she closed and locked the door behind him that she realized she had better explain so that he didn't misunderstand why she'd invited him in. The words she was about to say caught in her throat as she turned around and saw him standing in the middle of her efficiency apartment, looking much too large for such a small room and looking entirely too appealing for her to be alone with him so soon.
The instant their eyes met, however, she could see that he was more nervous about the situation than she was.
"Please sit," she said, pointing to a chair instead of the trundle bed that doubled for a sofa. She located paper and a pencil; then she sat on the bed with her legs crossed Indian-style. "Draw me something. Anything. I want to decide for myself whether you're pretty good."
With a slow grin, he began scribbling. When she tried to watch him work, he covered the drawing with his hand. About five minutes later he tore off the sheet of paper, but he immediately started another drawing on the next sheet. She was at the edge of her patience by the time he completed a fourth drawing without letting her have as much as a peek.
"All right," he finally said. "But understand, I did these rather quickly, so they're not my best—"
He stopped talking as she snatched the sheets out of his hand and gasped with delight. "Wow! This is terrific! I knew you were better than pretty good. You're phenomenal."
He had drawn their initial encounter in sequence, with her portrayed as Betty Boop, the bully as a weasel, and him as a masked, caped crusader. The final scene showed the two of them walking away, arm-in-arm.
"You forgot one thing," she said, picking up the pencil. Over Betty's head she drew a dialogue bubble, with the words "MY HERO!" inside, and held it up. She was rewarded with a smile so devastating her body temperature seemed to rise a degree. With some effort, she resisted the urge to crawl onto his lap to see if he was as comfortable as he looked.
"Now that I have no doubt about your talent, I have an important question. Is there anyone else who could take over the company if you didn't?"
He shook his head. "Not really. I have one cousin but... my father doesn't..." He stopped and shook his head again. "Suffice it to say, the responsibility is mine to bear."
"Okay, you can't turn your back on your family, but that doesn't mean you can't accomplish more than one thing in your life. Look at da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson or Edison. Lots of people diversify. Why can't you?"
His eyes were sparkling again as he absorbed what she was saying. "You make it sound so simple. Of course I could do both. As CEO, most of what my father does is delegate anyway. I could easily divide up my time if I put my mind to it."
She smiled. "Sometimes a person can be so focused on what they think they're supposed to be doing, it takes another person to point out an alternate route."
She wished she could bottle the expression on his face so that she could bring it out to savor on sad days. His fascination with her had clearly graduated to adoration. More amazing was that she felt the same way. The phrase "love at first sight" popped into her head again, and she wondered if it could really be possible after all.
"Now, autograph every drawing for me so that when you're famous, these originals will be worth a fortune."
He shot her a skeptical glance, but did as she asked. On the first he wrote, Only fate could have arranged a meeting this extraordinary. The second and third read, I'd do anything for you and You should have a full-time bodyguard—I'm available! Those three tugged on her romantic heartstrings, but it was the fourth, where they were walking off together, that set her soul on fire: Here's to love at first sight.
"O-o-oh. These are so sweet. Thank you." Thinking only that a thank-you was inadequate for something so personal, she went over to him to give him a light peck on the cheek, but he turned his face so that her lips brushed his instead. "Oh, my," she said for the second time that night.
She knew she should back away. It was far too soon to follow through with what she was feeling. While her common sense argued in favor of restraint, however, his mouth hesitantly touched hers again and she gave in to the need to discover whether he was truly the one she'd been waiting for—the one whose kisses would melt her bones and make the real world disappear.
Her confirmation came the instant their lips pressed together in earnest. Fortunately, he eased her onto his lap, for her legs suddenly lost the ability to support her weight. And when he deepened the kiss, the taste of him caused a ripple of pleasure that had her ready to discover everything else he could make her feel. She gasped as his one large hand slid up her arm then covered her breast, and instinctively repositioned herself so that she was straddling his thighs.
But when he used those incredible hands to bring her hips closer to his and she realized he was built big everywhere, it struck her that they might not be such a perfect fit after all. Then there was the matter of birth control. She had no preventive supplies on hand. Though her period had just ended and her chances of conception should be close to nil, she knew that wasn't a very trustworthy method.
Despite how aroused he was, he sensed her tension. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get carried away."
"There's no need to apologize. I got as carried away as you did, but, it's just that—"
"It's too soon."
"Yes," she said, relieved that he understood.
"I guess I'd better go."
She nodded her agreement but it took her several seconds to actually get up off his lap so he could rise. They got as far as the door before the desire still thrumming through their bodies fought back. A kiss intended to say good night fanned the flames higher instead.
"Tell me to go," he begged in a hoarse voice.
Right and wrong were suddenly all mixed up. A powerful need, unlike anything she'd ever imagined, obliterated her common sense. All that mattered was getting as close as a man and woman could get, as fast as possible, and to hell with everything else. "Stay," she whispered.
Before she could reconsider, he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Barbara didn't have time to think about what had bothered her before. They each made a brief attempt to undress the other, but neither had the patience to do it properly. A few buttons were undone, his pants shoved to his knees, her uniform gathered above her waist, her panties discarded.
Then that part of him that had seemed too large plunged into her body and shot her to the next level of pleasure.
She had always felt that there was some vital piece missing to her personal puzzle, and now she knew what it was. Howard's size was irrelevant. They fit together beautifully, as if their bodies had been formed for this moment.
In mere seconds, her entire concentration was focused on the exquisite tension he was creating within her. She felt her nerves being strung higher and tighter until they exploded in one final burst of sensation. A moment later, he withdrew from her body to complete his own satisfaction.
Experiencing her first genuine climax, along with his obvious concern for her welfare, assured her that Howard was not only her knight in shining armor, but her Prince Charming as well.
Chapter 2
"Please stop worrying," Howard said for at least the tenth time, and gave her another reassuring hug. "My parents are going to love you as much as I do. I guarantee it."
She couldn't explain why she was so upset over the prospect of meeting the two people who had created the most wonderful man in the entire world. Nevertheless, anxiety had set in the moment he suggested she accompany him home to announce their engagement.
As he preferred, they took the train. He even arranged for them to have a private room for the trip. It should have been another memorable, romantic experience for her. Instead, with each mile of track they left behind, her panic increased.
She knew that a large part of her worry stemmed from the fact that they'd only known each other for two weeks. Although it seemed like forever to them, it could be quite a shock to his parents.
That practical thought led to others. There were so many details about the future they had yet to discuss. Oh, they always meant to, but something always got in the way.
They had been apart only five of the last fourteen days, and those five had been pure hell. Now that she had discovered the pleasures of lovemaking, she seemed to require it constantly. No matter how often their bodies came together, it took only a glance or a touch to stir the aching need again.
When they weren't making love, Howard was giving her an education on the pleasures of being wealthy. They traveled about Manhattan in a limousine, stayed in a suite in the Plaza, saw the hottest Broadway shows and ate at the most exclusive restaurants. He insisted on buying her a new wardrobe, and everything else that caught her eye... or his.
She knew they were in love, yet she was still completely surprised when he presented her with the enormous blue marquis diamond and asked her to marry him. She hadn't hesitated a heartbeat then, but her confidence abandoned her when they boarded the train to Boston that morning. Though he kept telling her everything would be fine, she couldn't help but feel that something was very wrong.
She wasn't the least bit surprised by the long, black limo waiting for them when they arrived in Boston, but the snooty chauffeur wasn't anything like the good-humored driver they'd hired in Manhattan. The way he looked down his nose at her, it was as if he'd judged her on sight and found her terribly lacking in suitability for the young master.
When Howard told her the man had been a full-time employee of the Hamilton-Greene Corporation for more than two decades and would probably be around for two more, the acid level in her stomach increased another notch.
Neither Howard's claim that he was very rich nor the ease with which he spent large sums of money prepared her for his family's estate. First appeared the great brick wall with its iron entrance gates, then the lushly landscaped lawn as sprawling as any golf course, and finally the mansion that was bigger than the average shopping mall.
As the limo pulled up to the front door, she wished she had forced Howard to talk more about his family and how and where they would live after their marriage.
An elderly butler opened the door and gave Howard a stiff nod. In a strong British accent he said, "It's good to have you home, Master Howard. Your parents requested that you and your guest await them in the library. They'll be down momentarily." He led them to a set of double wooden doors off the main foyer, waited for them to enter then closed them inside a room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a fireplace and a lot of expensive furnishings. It looked precisely the way Barbara imagined a rich family's library should look.
"That was Chesterfield, the butler," Howard said in a hushed voice. "He's been with the family—"
"Let me guess," she interjected. "For centuries. But why didn't you introduce me?"
He tapped her nose and closely imitated Chesterfield's accent. "That would have been most improper, my dear." He smiled at the face she made. "Mother would have been devastated if a servant met her future daughter-in-law before she did."
"God, Howard, this really doesn't feel right. Are you sure you shouldn't have warned them about our engagement
before we arrived?"
"Barbara, please. I think I know best how to deal with my parents."
There was a harsh edge to his voice that she'd never heard before, but considering the fact that she had already asked that question a dozen times, she supposed he had a right to be annoyed with her. "I'm sorry, hon. My nerves are on the outside of my skin."
He pulled her close and stroked her hair. "I know. I shouldn't have barked at you. It's this house. As long as I can remember, I've never been able to relax here."
She tipped her head back to look up at him. "We aren't going to have to live here, are we?"
He paused long enough for her to fear his answer, but before she could prod him, the library doors opened and a handsome couple entered. Barbara didn't need an introduction to guess their identity. The regal way they moved announced their status, and the man looked very much like she guessed Howard would thirty years in the future, except that he seemed to lack any softness in his features.
Howard greeted his mother with a light kiss on the cheek she offered up to him. "You look even more beautiful than the last time I was home."
Her smile failed to soften the sharpness of her response. "It's been so long since you've been home, I'm surprised you even recognized me." As the mother watched her son move on to his father, Barbara studied her.
She was more well groomed than beautiful, for her coloring was rather mousy, her features unremarkable and her figure a bit too thin for someone so tall. Also, she was either considerably younger than her husband or had an exceptional cosmetic surgeon.
"Sweetheart," Howard said, reaching for Barbara's left hand and bringing her forward a step. "I'd like you to meet my parents, Edith and Howard Hamilton. Mother, Father, this is Barbara Mancuso, my, uh... my fiancée." With his final word he brought her hand up to his lips for a kiss, simultaneously showing off the engagement ring.
Barbara tried to read the expressions on their faces without blatantly staring. She had expected surprise, hoped for happiness and dreaded anger. What she saw completely confused her. Mr. Hamilton barely acknowledged that she was in the room and the only word she could think of to describe the look he gave his son was bored.
Unnatural Relations (Lust and Lies Series, Book 1) Page 3
