by Janet Dailey
“For me to fly to London and have dinner with him later this week.”
“How wonderful. It’s little more than a two-hour flight from here. We can arrive in the early afternoon, which will give you plenty of time to get ready,” she stated, as always taking charge. “First thing in the morning, I’ll notify our pilot of our plans and arrange for reservations at Claridges. Or would you rather stay at the Lanesborough?”
“You’re assuming that I accepted the invitation,” Laura replied lightly.
Tara gave her a startled look. “You did, didn’t you?”
“You sound so shocked.” Laura couldn’t help but laugh. “Have you suddenly decided to become a matchmaker?”
“Hardly,” Tara scoffed. “Actually, I was thinking that a quick trip to England would provide the perfect opportunity to see if Mr. Dunshill could arrange for us to view the portrait of Lady Crawford. Did you speak to him at all after dinner?”
“No.” Laura was a bit confused by the disappointment she felt over that. Several times she had caught Sebastian Dunshill looking her way, but he’d made no effort to seek her out. That failure prompted Laura to dig in her heels and refuse to make the next move. Laura knew her pride had been stung. Men had always pursued her.
“Neither did I,” Tara admitted. “I’ll call the contessa in the morning and find out where he’s staying. Or . . . do I need to bother?” She glanced expectantly at Laura. “Did you accept Boone’s dinner invitation or not?”
“Actually, I told him I would call him tomorrow after I talked to you. So my answer was a tentative ‘yes.’ ”
“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.” Tara continued to study her. “I had the impression earlier that you found him attractive.”
“I do. In fact, I’m looking forward to having dinner with him.”
“I shouldn’t wonder. Boone Rutledge is unquestionably a rogue. In the last few years, he’s gained the reputation of playing the field, although I suspect Max might be the cause for that,” Tara added thoughtfully.
It was the kind of remark guaranteed to pique Laura’s curiosity. “Why do you say that?”
“I suppose because Max has been so openly critical of nearly every woman Boone has seen. And when Max doesn’t like someone, he can make things very uncomfortable for Boone, and painfully humiliating for the object of his scorn.” She sent Laura a smiling look of approval. “Fortunately, that’s something you don’t have to be concerned about. In one short meeting you managed to completely captivate Max. What exactly did you say to him before I arrived?”
Laura smiled, feeling just a bit smug. “The kind of things you taught me. Something respectful yet laced with a careful touch of sass.”
Tara’s soft laugh was rich with amusement. “I should have guessed you would instantly pick up on that. Above all else, Max Rutledge despises weakness.” She ran a thoughtful glance over Laura. “You have an innate ability to make a quick read of a person. It’s quite likely a knack you inherited from Chase. It certainly can’t be taught—not by me or anyone else.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Laura idly watched the other traffic zipping through the streets.
“It could prove to be an invaluable asset to the Rutledges,” Tara mused. “Max doesn’t do as much business entertaining as he should. You could easily change that, though. And the education you could obtain in the machinations of big business would be priceless.”
“Matchmaking again?” Laura teased.
“No, merely fantasizing. And perhaps doing a bit of reminiscing, too,” she added with a hint of melancholy in her voice. “I always knew your father and I together could achieve great things. There really wasn’t any limit to the possibilities we had. I confess, when I imagine you and Boone together, I see a bit of Ty and me. Heaven knows, you are too much like me to ever be content merely becoming some man’s wife and the mother of his children. Obviously, you can always have a career of your own, completely separate from whatever your husband may do. But it can be infinitely more stimulating when the two are combined.”
Laura listened, aware that there was invariably wisdom in Tara’s counsel. But this time Tara’s words seemed only to remind her how unsettled her future was. Sooner or later, this tour of Europe would come to a close, and she had yet to decide what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. The income from her trust fund meant she didn’t have any financial concerns. At the same time, Laura knew she wouldn’t be satisfied for long flitting from one party scene to another. A tension wound through her, making her edgy and restless.
When the car rolled to a stop in front of their hotel, Laura swung her legs out of the car before the doorman had her door fully opened. Ignoring his outstretched hand, she climbed out of the car unassisted and waited by the steps for Tara to join her. She watched with impatience while Tara paused to rearrange the drape of her satin stole.
Headlights caught Laura in their wide beams as a low-slung convertible halted behind their hired car, the sound of its motor reducing to a powerful purr. Laura glanced at the red Porsche, welcoming the distraction of its arrival. An instant later she had her first clear look at the driver’s face when he agilely levered himself out of the car. A deep, heady satisfaction quivered through her at the sight of Sebastian Dunshill.
Chapter Two
Without bothering to open the door, Sebastian vaulted from the sports car and approached them with a long-striding walk. All that edgy frustration that had darkened Laura’s mood vanished under the warm regard of his hazel eyes.
“Mr. Dunshill, this is a surprise,” Tara greeted him, then tilted her head at a curious angle. “Are you staying at the Hassler, too?”
“Not at all. I came to give you this.” He held out a folded slip of paper to them. “When Bianca told me you had left, I realized I had failed to let you know how to contact me when you come to England.”
“We would have tracked you down somehow,” Laura assured him, a knowing smile dimpling the corners of her mouth as she took the paper from him and slipped it into her evening bag. “But this makes it easier. You see, Tara and I just decided to fly to London at the end of the week.”
“You have? Wonderful,” Sebastian replied with an easy show of pleasure. “Give me a call after you arrive, and we’ll settle on a time to view the portrait.”
“We’ll do that,” Laura promised. “We’re both curious to see it.”
“Indeed we are,” Tara agreed, but at the moment her interest was on something else. “You must have known the contessa for a long time to be on a first-name basis with her.”
“I’ve known her most of my life,” Sebastian replied. “She and my mother are third cousins.” Without giving Tara a chance to question him further about his connection to the countess, he changed the subject. “You two aren’t calling it an evening already, are you? Rome is just coming alive at this hour.”
“If that’s an invitation to show me some of the nightlife, I accept,” Laura declared with unabashed boldness and threw a brief look at Tara. “You don’t mind, do you, Tara? I’ve been a dignified lady all evening. Now I’m ready to let my hair down and do something improper.”
“Not too improper, I hope,” Tara admonished lightly. “You two go and have fun. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Laura turned expectantly to Sebastian, an alluring sparkle in her brown eyes. “Well? Was it an invitation or not?”
“It was.” An answering light danced in his own eyes. “If I seem at a slight loss for words, you must forgive me. I thought it would require a great deal more persuasion.”
She laughed. “You thought wrong.”
“To my everlasting delight,” he said and ushered her to his car. After Laura was comfortably settled in the front passenger seat, Sebastian made his way around the hood and slid behind the wheel. Hands on the steering wheel, he asked, “Which nightspots would you prefer—something secluded and romantic, or loud and crowded?”
“Let’s start with loud and crowded,” Laura s
tated.
“Loud and crowded it is.” The powerful engine roared to life.
As the Porsche accelerated away from the hotel, Laura threw Tara a parting wave and reached up to pull the pins that secured her long blond hair in its confining style. Sebastian darted her a sideways glance when she tossed her head to shake her hair loose.
“You were serious about letting your hair down, weren’t you?” An amused smile tugged at a corner of his mouth.
“I’m a firm believer that when you ride in a convertible, you have to let your hair down so the wind can blow through it. It’s part of the experience.” Laura turned her face into the motion-generated breeze. “A little faster, if you please.”
Chuckling softly, Sebastian stepped on the accelerator and the sports car increased its speed. At a reckless pace, they zipped along the busy city streets, darting in and around slower vehicles, careening around corners with tires squealing.
“You’re going to get a ticket,” Laura warned with laughter in her voice. “You didn’t even slow up at that last light.”
“One of the first things you have to learn about driving in Rome: motorists tend to regard traffic signs as mere suggestions. So, when in Rome . . .” he reminded her of the oft quoted phrase without bothering to finish it, an impish twinkle in his eyes.
Her throaty laugh was hearty and full. “I knew the moment I saw you behind the wheel of this Porsche, you weren’t some stuffy Englishman.”
“I hope you haven’t made the erroneous assumption that it’s mine,” he warned. “I merely borrowed it from Bianca.”
“I’ll bet you had a choice, though.”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” Sebastian paused to glance her way. “Something told me you might favor a sports car.”
“You have sound instincts.”
The car picked up more speed along a straight stretch, and Laura surrendered to the freshened wind, enjoying the feel of it whipping through her hair. It reminded her of the many times she had galloped her horse across the rolling range of her Montana home just to feel that exhilarating rush of air against her face.
“I take it you found Bianca’s dinner party a bit dull,” Sebastian remarked.
Laura dragged a tendril of hair off her cheek and hooked it behind her ear. “Only toward the last. It’s a failing of mine,” she stated without a trace of repentance. “At times, I’m easily bored.”
“It happens to all of us, especially when we’ve had a surfeit of elegant soirees.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Is that ever the truth. It’s been almost nonstop since we arrived in Europe. Which proves it is possible to have too much of a good thing.”
But as her glance skimmed his leanly chiseled profile, she became aware again of that little buzz of excitement she felt in his presence, and doubted that it would be possible to have too much of Sebastian Dunshill.
“It’s definitely possible to have too much of formal affairs.” His voice was laced with humor.
The smile drew her attention to the manly construction of his lips. From there it was an easy step to wonder what his kiss would be like. Laura was conscious of her pulse quickening in anticipation of that moment. She had no doubt at all that it would come, whether at his instigation or hers.
She was almost sorry when they arrived at a nightclub on the edges of Rome’s city center. A part of her wanted to continue the car ride, just the two of them. Then the loud, driving beat of a bass drum reached out from the club and caught her up in its primitive spell.
“You asked for loud and crowded,” Sebastian reminded her as they entered, greeted by blaring music and a din of laughing, chattering voices.
“It’s wonderful.” Laura declared, already feeling the need to move with the music’s contagious beat.
After a discreet slipping of bills, a waiter led them through the crush of people to a small table near the dance floor. The waiter lingered long enough to take their drink order: a glass of white wine for Laura and a gin and tonic for Sebastian. One song had barely ended before the band struck up another.
“So, do you samba?” Sebastian asked.
“Absolutely.” Taking his hand, Laura rose from her chair. The firm pressure of that hand on her waist, guiding her to the dance floor, started her pulse racing. “I never expected to hear Latin music in Rome,” she said when he turned her into his arms.
“It’s currently riding another wave of popularity here in Europe.”
“I’m glad.” The blatant sensuality of it suited her mood perfectly.
But they hadn’t taken more than a dozen steps before Laura found her movements restricted by her gown’s long, pencil-slim skirt, making it difficult to throw herself into the music as she wanted to do.
She stopped dancing. “Let me have your tie.”
“My tie?” Sebastian drew his head back in mild bewilderment.
“That’s right.” She proceeded to hitch her skirt up until the hem was above her knees. “I need it for a belt.”
Amused, he unknotted the tie and pulled it from around his neck.
Holding her skirt at the desired height, Laura instructed, “Tie it around my waist.”
When Sebastian bent to the task, he brought his head closer to her, close enough that she could make out the shape of some of the faint freckles on his face. With each breath she inhaled the heady, masculine scent of his cologne. She discovered that nearly everything about him stimulated her.
When he tied the first knot to secure the makeshift belt around her waist, Laura cautioned, “Make sure it’s tight,” and she pressed a finger in the center of the first knot, holding it in place while he made the second one. The intimacy of having him fix her clothes brought its own brand of stimulation to the moment, adding to her high awareness of him.
Finishing the task, he straightened. “That should do it.”
Laura placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s try it again, shall we?”
In answer, he slid his fingers between those of her free hand and fitted his other hand to the curve of her hip bone directly below her newly belted waist. Without hesitation, Sebastian guided her into the samba’s opening steps.
The passionate music throbbed around them. The samba’s emphasis on eye contact and impression of isolation, along with its exaggerated hip movements, made it an innately sensual dance, but in Sebastian’s arms, it took on an added quality of sexiness that Laura hadn’t experienced before. And she realized that in the past she had always danced to the music, but not really with her partner. The connection she felt with this man, something that was more than merely physical, gave a new dimension to the moment. She felt alive as a woman.
They stayed on the dance floor for song after song, returning to their table only once to take a quick sip of their drinks. As another song drew to a close, Laura leaned into Sebastian’s chest, unwilling to break the closeness. She felt the heaviness of his breathing and the hard beat of his pulse, matching her own. The solidness of him made her feel deliciously weak.
Tilting her head back, she looked up into his downturned face and lifted a hand to touch the sheen of perspiration across his upper lip. “It seems we’re both working up a sweat,” Laura murmured, conscious of her own flushed skin and the pounding of blood through her veins.
“It would be a shame to cool off now.” His words were accompanied by a suggestive look that made everything inside her leap. Just then the band struck up another tune. Hearing it, Sebastian smiled. “I thought they were never going to play something slow.”
Before Laura had a chance to register the tempo of the music, he had molded her to his length, releasing her hand to circle both arms around her to keep her close. Glorying in the sensations of this new contact, Laura slid her hands behind his neck and let her fingers slide into his light red-brown hair. The scent and feel of him was all around her.
As they swayed together with the music, their feet barely moving, her body felt liquid—and molten. He nuzzled the side of her neck an
d the sensitive hollow behind her ear, sending little shivers of excitement quivering through her.
Passivity was something totally alien to her nature, making it impossible for Laura to allow him to make all the moves. She turned her head, seeking and finding those masculine lips that were creating so much havoc.
It was no tentative first kiss they shared, but one that was hot and tonguing in its demands. It shook Laura to her toes. She felt herself being pulled into the heat of it without first deciding if it was what she wanted. She was scared and excited by the power of it.
Sebastian was the first to break it off, dragging his mouth from hers in obvious reluctance. She saw the quick delving of his gaze, and realized, with much satisfaction, that he had been shaken by the kiss, too.
“Do you always kiss strange men like that?” he asked with a teasing lightness that gained her instant approval.
“No, but I’ll bet that you kiss all strange women that way,” she retorted, recovering some sense of control while still thrilling to the disturbance within.
“None have ever been quite like this,” Sebastian assured her in a dry voice.
“That’s good to know,” she murmured and stroked a hand along the strong cut of his jawline.
As the last note of the song faded away, a voice came through the sound system, speaking in Italian. At its conclusion, Sebastian glanced at Laura, regret twisting the line of his mouth. “It’s closing time.”
She released a mock sigh. “And we were just getting warmed up.”
“Shall we go back to the table and finish our drinks?”
The prospect of spending the next twenty minutes sitting and sipping sounded much too mundane for Laura, especially now when she was on such a sensual high. “Why bother?” she countered with an elegant little shrug of her shoulders. “By now the wine’s flat. Let’s just leave.”
