Rachel's nerves seemed to calm at the mention of Jason's name, and her eyes brightened. "Thank you for taking care of him."
While he and Rachel quietly talked about Jason and his band, Reid sipped on the glass of beer Sophia brought him and watched as dish after loaded dish of food came out of the kitchen. Wine and water glasses were filled, crisp white linen napkins were laid beside each plate.
Every time Tina came into the room, their eyes would meet. Every time she would blush, then hurry back out.
"Dinner is ready." Mariska came out of the kitchen carrying a platter of chicken. "Reid, you sit in the chair beside Rachel."
Reid was beginning to have an understanding of what Jason had been going through by needing to hide his feelings for Rachel. It was killing him, Reid thought as he pulled out Rachel's chair for her, that he couldn't touch Tina, or slip an arm around her waist, or even kiss her cheek. Though this might not be the right time, he was determined to make it clear—very soon—that it was Tina he wanted to be with, not Rachel.
Ivan sat at the head of the table, the expression on his face not exactly what Reid would consider cordial. While a bowl of watercress salad made its way around the table, Mariska said to Yana, "Reid's father is going to be our next senator."
Yana held up her wine glass. "Gratulalok."
"Thank you, but it might be a little early for congratulations." Reid scooped up a spoonful of dark, fragrant rice with vegetables. "We'll need to have an election first and make it official."
Yana met his gaze, her smile knowing. "One should always hold hope."
"I agree." Reid glanced at Tina, who quickly reached for her wineglass.
"So are you interested in politics yourself?" Yana asked.
He shook his head. "I'm just taking a month off from the family business to help establish a campaign headquarters."
"So, Reid," Mariska said, clearly wanting to steer the subject in a different direction, "I understand you come from a big family. Do you see yourself having children one day?"
He felt Rachel stiffen beside him, while Tina softly coughed. Ivan glared at his wife.
"I'm sure I will," Reid said evenly. "One day."
"When you find the right woman, of course." Mariska handed him a platter. "Chicken?"
Tina's cough turned to a choking sound, and Sophia slapped her on the back.
"Thanks." He speared a leg and set it on his plate. "This all looks and smells delicious. You must have been in the kitchen all day."
"It is nothing." Mariska waved a hand. "Rachel helped with most of the preparation. She is a wonderful cook, you know."
Rachel furrowed her brow. "I chopped the celery and onions, Mom."
"And so beautifully," Mariska said. "Every piece perfect."
Ivan's mouth pressed into a hard line as he stabbed a chicken breast.
"Tell Reid about your bingo win last night, Mariska," Yana said, sipping her wine. "It's such an interesting story."
Thrilled to repeat the story everyone else had already heard five times, Mariska leaned close to Reid. "I have only one number left, B7. Ivan, he has one, as well, B1."
In spite of being distracted by Tina's presence, Reid was truly trying to listen to Mariska. Until he felt a bare toe slide up his pant leg. He froze and looked at Tina, who appeared completely absorbed in her mother's story, then glanced at Sophia, who was casually sipping on a glass of ice water.
When the toe slid higher, Reid grabbed his own water glass to ward off the threatening cough, careful to keep his gaze on Mariska.
"The ball comes up, it is blue, so I know it is a B, and what number do they call?" Mariska slapped a hand to her chest. "B7!"
"It was a hundred dollars." Scowling, Ivan took his knife to his chicken. "You would think she won the lottery, the way she carries on."
"It is a hundred more than you won, Ivan Alexander." Mariska waved a fork at her husband.
The argument was without heat, but it was enough to distract Tina's parents for the moment. Reid looked at Tina, watched her gaze slowly lift to his. Though it was only for a split second, the look she flashed him was as hot as it was arousing.
He really needed to get this woman alone, he thought, taking a gulp of his wine. He hoped like hell it would be soon.
Mariska was serving strudel and coffee when the phone rang. When she started to rise, Rachel sprang out of her chair.
"I'll get it."
"If it is a salesman, hang up on him," Ivan yelled after Rachel, then looked at Reid. "A man cannot have a meal in peace with his family."
Not sure if the comment was directed at him, Reid simply nodded.
"Since when has this family had a peaceful meal?" Mariska said. "You are always grumbling about something."
Ivan frowned at his wife, then forked up a bite of strudel. "I do not grumble. I make observations."
Reid drew in a breath when Tina—he hoped it was Tina—ran her toes up his pant leg again. She was intentionally torturing him, he realized, and was already planning payback when Rachel returned.
"Salesman?" Ivan asked.
"Hang up." Rachel slid back into her seat.
A moment later, while Ivan and Mariska were still discussing how incredibly rude and inconsiderate some people were, Rachel cleared her throat, then looked at Reid and said, "Would you like to go to the movies?"
Phone call forgotten, Mariska beamed. "That is a wonderful idea."
Ivan scowled. "My daughter does not ask a man on a date."
"It's not a date," Rachel said quickly. "There's a new comedy at the cinema. Tina and Sophia said they wanted to see it, too. After we did the dishes, I thought we could all go."
He was beginning to get the picture, but Reid realized it had nothing to do with the movies. Obviously that phone call had been the source of Rachel's unexpected invitation. "I'd love to go."
"You and Reid go." Mariska was already rising from her seat. "Tina and Sophia will help me with the dishes."
"Katina and Sophia will go, too," Ivan decreed.
"Sorry." Sophia shook her head. "I'll help with the dishes, but I promised I'd help out in the office at the club tonight."
"Then Katina will go," Ivan said firmly. "It is settled."
Thank you, Ivan, Reid thought, and when he glanced at Tina, could see she was thinking the same.
It took a while to say their goodbyes, but once they were outside and away from the house, Rachel looked at Tina and Reid. "I'm sure you realize we aren't really going to the movies."
"I figured it out," he said with a nod. When headlights flashed from a parked car down the street, Rachel hugged Tina, then hurried off.
Left alone in the darkness behind a tall hedge, Reid dragged Tina into his arms and kissed her. Placing her palms flat on his chest, she leaned into him and kissed him back.
"You taste like apples," he said against her lips.
"So do you."
He kissed her again, then whispered, "Well, that was interesting."
"Kissing me?" she teased. "Or having dinner with my parents?"
"Both."
"Interesting is not exactly the word I'd use." She blew out a breath. "More like horrific."
He grinned at her. "So you want to tell me exactly what you were doing back there at the dinner table?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean," he said, lifting a brow. "Sliding your toe up my leg. I nearly had a heart attack."
Furrowing her brow, she met his gaze. "I didn't touch your leg with my toe."
He felt a moment's panic, then saw the smile in her eyes and frowned at her.
"Very funny," he said, then pulled her close and slid his mouth to her neck. The hitch of her breath, her soft sigh, the slight trembling in her hands made his own pulse stutter.
"I asked you a question last night," he murmured, lifting his head. "I don't believe you ever truly answered me."
Her fingers moved restlessly over his chest. "What was that?"
"Will you come
home with me?"
Her lashes slowly fluttered up. Smiling, she looked into his eyes. "I thought you'd never ask."
* * *
Eight
« ^ »
The penthouse was spacious. Marble foyer, high ceilings, rich, glossy hardwood floors. Antiques—an impressive, and expensive, mix of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century pieces—were artfully arranged throughout the large living room and parlor. Softly lit paintings, mostly oils, graced the hunter-green walls. From an art history class she'd taken at the local college, Tina knew that several of the paintings were nineteenth-century Southern artists.
More than a little intimidated, she stood in front of the wall-to-wall leaded windows overlooking Forsyth Park. A full moon shone silver on the thick treetops; downtown city lights twinkled in the dark. She could only imagine how spectacular the view from here would be during the day.
Wondering briefly if she would ever see that view, she turned and strolled around the room, paused to admire a walnut Chippendale sideboard table, then moved on to examine the intricate leaf carvings on a mahogany framed mirror.
Engrossed in the detail of the frame, she didn't notice Reid come up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her before she could turn.
"Sorry. I had to return a call from Ian."
Her pulse jumped when she met his gaze in the mirror. "Everything all right?"
On the drive from her house, Reid had told Tina about the body being found in his family's attic and their suspicions that it might be his missing cousin, Victoria. Tina couldn't imagine what the entire Danforth family was going through right now, not knowing the truth and having to wait for days or even weeks before the results of the tests could be verified. Her heart went out to all of them, especially to Reid's aunt and uncle.
"Ian wanted to warn me that there's a hotshot reporter named Jasmine Carmody sniffing around." Reid's arms tightened around Tina. "Nicola wants to keep this situation quiet for as long as possible. Even the hint of a scandal so soon in the campaign could blow the election for my Dad."
"Can you really keep something like this from the press?"
"Not for long." He sighed. "Especially with an army of reporters skulking around every corner just waiting for the tiniest speck of dirt. But we might be able to hold off until we at least get some preliminary results from the DNA testing. That will help Nicola decide how to best handle the press."
"I can't imagine living under a microscope like that," she said quietly. "I don't think I could stand it."
"It's part of who I am." He shrugged. "Who my family is. I guess I just accept it."
"I can certainly understand that." She smiled at him. "After spending the evening with my family, you probably wonder how I manage to get through a day without going crazy."
He brought his face beside hers, grinned at her in the mirror. "I think your family is terrific, though I don't think your dad likes me too much. You know the saying 'if looks could kill'? It's amazing I made it out of your house alive tonight."
She laughed softly at the absurdity, yet truth, of his statement. "My dad doesn't like any man who wants to date one of his daughters. He says that men just want one thing."
"Smart man." Reid brushed his mouth along her neck, then moved up to nuzzle her ear.
The closeness of his body, his mouth just a few inches from her own, made it hard for Tina to think. She desperately wanted to turn in his arms, press her lips to his and ask him to take her to his bed, or just simply take her, but watching what he was doing to her in the mirror absolutely mesmerized her.
"I thought about you today," he whispered.
"Did you?" Her breath quickened when his tongue flicked over her earlobe.
"Did you think about me?"
"No." Every nerve ending along her neck quivered.
He glanced at her in the mirror and smiled smugly. "Liar."
"Maybe a little," she admitted, heard the breathlessness in her own voice.
"Just a little?" He moved to her neck, rubbed his lips up and down the slender column of soft, sensitive flesh.
Her skin grew hot and tight, her bones soft. Afraid she might slide to the floor, she leaned back against his chest. "Maybe more than a little."
Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he smiled against her neck. "What did you think about?"
"Towels."
He lifted his head. "You thought about towels?"
"Actually, it was more about the expression on your face when my aunt walked in and that's all you were wearing."
"Me?" His smile widened. "You should have seen your face."
Just thinking about it now made her cheeks warm. "It's not every day a member of my family walks in and finds me with a naked man."
"I'm glad to hear that." He nipped at her neck. "Very glad."
His teeth on her skin sent shivers through her. His breath was hot on her throat. She felt her eyelids grow heavy, her blood thicken. Each and every beat of her heart echoed like a drum inside her brain.
"My aunt wants to photograph you," she managed to say, even as a whirlwind of heat spiraled through her mind and body.
He stilled, looked at her doubtfully. "Me?"
"In your towel." She watched him lift one brow. "But preferably without."
"Maybe some other time," he said, though his expression said more like "never." "I'm going to be a little busy for a while."
"Doing what?"
"This," Reid murmured, and turned his attention back to Tina's neck.
He couldn't get enough of the taste and feel of her. Watching her in the mirror aroused him like nothing he'd ever experienced before. The flutter of her thick lashes, the rise and fall of her breasts, the soft flush of desire on her cheeks. He slid his hands under her sweater, felt warm skin and soft cotton. She shivered when he cupped her breasts.
She fit perfectly. Firm, yet soft, and when he caressed her, he felt her nipples harden against his palms.
"Reid." She said his name on a ragged whisper, tried to turn in his arms.
"Don't move." He held her against him. "I want to look at you."
She stilled, held her breath when he reached for the hem of her sweater, then slowly pulled it over her head and tossed it aside.
Her bra was baby pink, simple cotton, and he didn't think he'd ever seen anything sexier in his life. Gently, he kneaded the firm, soft flesh, then slipped the fabric down and bared her breasts.
Her cheeks darkened with a blush, and she dropped her eyes.
"Look at me, Tina," he said hoarsely. "Keep your eyes on me."
He watched her lift her gaze to his, saw the fire in her eyes, the same fire that raced through his own blood and over his skin. He lowered his gaze and had to remind himself to breathe. She was so beautiful, her skin so soft and smooth. He brushed his thumbs over her rosy nipples, saw and felt them grow tighter under his touch.
Every inch of him wanted to take her now, right this second, standing right here. But he couldn't let go of this moment, not yet. He felt intoxicated by the sight and touch of her, wanted this feeling to last as long as he—as they both—could possibly stand it. Not a simple task when he wanted to touch her, kiss her everywhere at once.
So he concentrated on her breasts. Stroking, caressing, teasing. Pushing fabric away until there was only skin against skin, soft against rough, ivory against tan. He thought he might die if he didn't taste her soon, if he couldn't take her pearled nipple in his mouth, feel the hardness of her against his tongue.
On a moan her head fell back against his chest. And then her hands got busy.
She slid her hands up and down the outsides of his thighs, a slow, rhythmic movement … up, down, up again … gradually inching her way to the inside. When her fingertips skimmed the edge of his hardness, he sucked in a breath.
It shocked Tina that her knees were still able to hold her. Like warm wax, her body melted against Reid's, molding intimately so she felt every muscle of his chest against her back, the curve of her hips against his, t
he press of his erection against her buttocks. Watching what he was doing to her, with his hands on her breasts, his mouth on her throat and neck, was more than she could bear.
Didn't he know that? she thought, squirming against him. Didn't he know how much she wanted him, how desperately she needed him?
She took comfort in knowing that the sweet torture was not hers alone. His eyes had darkened with need, as well. His body had grown hard and tense, his breathing had turned ragged. If this was a contest as to who could last the longest without begging, she would surely—gladly—lose.
"Reid," she breathed his name, pressed herself firmly against him and moved back and forth, felt him grow harder still.
His hand moved down her stomach to the button on her slacks and popped it open. Tugging her zipper down, he slid his fingertips over her belly, then cupped her in his palm. When he pressed his lips to her ear and whispered what he wanted to do, she thought, Yes, yes! Please do that and more!
Moaning softly, she could only wonder when and how she'd become so shameless, so wanton. She felt as if she might burst into flames any moment, and when he began to stroke her, she did. A firestorm swept over her, and the fury of it consumed her.
"Look at me," she gasped.
His eyes, glinting dark with need, met hers.
"I need you," she whispered roughly. Taking hold of his wrist, she moved her hips against him. "Inside me."
His jaw tightened, then he turned her toward him, dropping his mouth down on hers at the same time he lifted her up in his arms. She slid her arms around his neck and held on tight, the urgency overwhelming her ability to think of anything but satiating the raw, consuming need.
While walking with her to the bedroom, his mouth never left hers for more than a second. Kiss by kiss, touch by touch, their clothes fell away. Arms entwined, they tumbled onto the bed. She felt the mattress give beneath her, the downy cushion of a comforter, the slide of soft cotton on her back. The hard press of man.
Her breath caught, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as much to brace herself as to pull him closer. He bent his head to her neck, her shoulder, then to her breast. She arched upward on a moan when he took her into his mouth and suckled, arrows of white-hot pleasure shot from her breast to the V of her thighs. He used his tongue and teeth and lips on her; one moment he was gentle, the next he was rough. She couldn't decide which she liked better. Both thrilled her, aroused her to the edge of insanity.
The Cinderella Scandal Page 10
