A Black Tie Affair

by Sherrill Bodine

  Not today.

  Today she needed to win on her own, not be given the prize. She stretched out, gave it the last ounce of her strength, speed, and endurance.

  They reached the raft simultaneously.

  They clung to it together. Her pulse raced from her head to her toes as the waves pushed their bodies closer and pulled them apart.

  “It’s been a long time since we swam together,” he said. “You beat me fair and square.”

  Still breathless, she almost laughed but couldn’t quite make it happen.

  “Want to race back?”

  “No, you told me to relax, remember?” She pushed away, floating on her back, letting the waves buffer her gently. She tried to enjoy it, but nothing seemed important except Drew and the warm, tingling anticipation of being with him here, now, at last. Right or wrong. Tonight she would make love with Drew Clayworth.

  He paddled along beside her, keeping guard, making sure she felt safe within his boundaries. He smiled, his eyes watchful.

  She wanted to turn toward him, wrap her body around him here in the water, and pull his head down to open her mouth for his kiss.

  “Watch your head,” he called out.

  Startled, she felt the stern looming over her.

  Shivering, goose bumps covering her arms, she climbed up onto the swim platform.

  He came up right behind her. “Here, take a hot shower.”

  He turned it on, and she stepped under the water, loving how it warmed her cold skin.

  “Tilt your head back. You have seaweed tangled in your hair.” His voice sounded gentle.

  The dichotomy of hot and cold made everything seem surreal as she did what he asked.

  His long fingers gently massaging her hair felt so sensual she closed her eyes with pleasure.

  I don’t want this to be just about sex. I want it to be about understanding.

  She opened her eyes, stepped away, and turned to face him. “We need to talk, Drew. Now.”

  For a second he simply stared at her. She didn’t know what she’d do if he reached for her. Throw herself into his arms the way she wanted, or push him into the lake the way she should.

  Finally he nodded. “I have a robe in the owner’s cabin for you. Warm up. I’ll meet you in the cockpit.”

  She hung her wet suit in the head and slipped on the soft blue terrycloth robe. It really did cover her more than her tank top and shorts.

  Drew, dressed in black shirt and trunks, must have pushed another button, because a table had appeared in the room where there wasn’t one earlier. A bottle of champagne chilled in a bucket, and beside it were cold shrimp, cheeses, and fruit.

  “I thought you might be hungry.”

  She looked at him standing there, gorgeous and charming, and it all seemed too much.

  “What are you doing? What are we doing? We don’t speak for fifteen years. Let me preface that.” She lifted her chin and gazed off into space, trying to find the right words in the utter chaos of her feelings.

  Her gaze fell deliberately and as coldly as she could muster, considering she felt ready to explode, onto his face.

  “You ignore me for years. Then through no choice of our own, we’re thrown back together and all of a sudden you’re everywhere I turn. Pandora’s Box. Finding Bertha’s dresses. Funding exhibits at the museum. Nearly making love in my office, and now this!”

  He poured her a glass of champagne and handed it to her. “Here, have a drink.”

  “I don’t want a drink,” she insisted but took the glass anyway to pace around the room.

  “What do you want, Athena?” he asked softly.

  She turned to face him, placed the glass carefully on the table and flung up her chin.

  “I want to know how you could so easily walk away from me that Christmas weekend,” she blurted out.

  There! I’ve finally said it.

  Years of yearning, of regret pushed open every door.

  She saw herself follow him out to the porch on that long-ago Christmas Eve, press a soft kiss on the nape of his neck because the way he was sitting, so dejected, compelled her to touch him in that way. She remembered kneeling in front of him, tilting his chin up to gaze into his eyes. Saw the moisture on his face, which couldn’t have been from the falling snow.

  The memories made it hard to breathe, but she forced herself to look into his eyes again.

  “Do you remember what I said to you and what you answered that Christmas Eve?” His voice sounded raw, like the words were ripped out of him.

  “Of course I remember,” she whispered, tears aching in the back of her throat. “You said, ‘I’m alone,’ and I said, ‘No, Drew, you’re not alone. I’ll always, always be here for you.’ ”

  He nodded. “And then I picked you up in my arms. Like this.”

  I should stop him.

  There was no snow, no icy-cold wind whipping her hair across her face, but the desire felt the same—no, stronger—as he swept her up into his arms, holding her high against his chest.

  He walked to the cherry paneling, not the cold stone side of the Clayworth mansion as he had that night, and he lowered her to the floor, pressing her back against the wood.

  Now, like then, he dragged his mouth across hers. Gently bit her lips, the side of her throat, while his hands roamed over her body, making her flesh come alive beneath his touch. Her breasts swelled under his palms, and a tingling flow of desire caused her to move instinctively against him.

  He slipped his hands inside her robe, like he had under her dress, cupping her buttocks to lift her to him. She’d ached and trembled, and tears filled her eyes. Like now.

  “Then I said I love you, Drew. I’ve always loved you. We’ll always be together. You’ll never be alone again,” she gasped, her mouth moving against his.

  Now, like that night, Drew stopped, grew rigid, and stepped back from her.

  “You were seventeen, the daughter of valued friends. A virgin. I wasn’t. Clayworths, contrary to popular belief, have a code of honor. Honesty in life and work, love of family and friends, and an effort to give something back to mankind. If we had made love that Christmas Eve, I would have betrayed that. You scared the hell out of me, because I didn’t know how I was going to take care of myself, let alone take care of you. We were too young, but I trusted you, told you what I planned to do.”

  She closed her eyes, remembering, like she had countless times, his passionate declaration that he would win the Fastnet for his parents. Her frantic cries that his uncles would never allow him to do something so dangerous, and his cool words, “They’ll never know. Only you know, and you’ll never tell.” Her nod of agreement, even as she plotted how to stop him, how to save him.

  She opened her eyes, brave enough, as she’d promised to face this.

  He stepped closer. “I believe you told my uncles because you thought you were doing the right thing. You cared about me and wanted to keep me safe.”

  His simple words, spoken with conviction, penetrated her battered heart. His face blurred behind her veil of tears.

  I believe him.

  “Give me your hand, Athena.”

  Blood pounding in her head, she reached out and twined their fingers together, allowing him to lead her to a cushioned bench along the wall.

  He flung himself down beside her, his face open to her instead of the charming mask he showed the rest of the world.

  “Athena, this is our second chance. If you’re willing, let’s see where we go from here.” His eyes clouded to a slate blue. “No pressure, I promise.” Drew shifted closer, and his eyes softened to warm cornflower. “Will you give us another chance?”

  She swallowed, trying to rid herself of the urge to break openly into sobs of joy. But if they had any future, there was one more hurdle to cross. She flung up her chin, needing to vanquish the last lie. They had come too far to shy away from the truth now.

  “Dad won’t tell me what happened at Clayworth’s. Why he resigned. Why you let him. Wil
l you tell me?”

  He narrowed his eyes so she couldn’t read them. “We all agreed not to discuss it. Including your father. I have to honor that.”

  Fear and doubt made her weak.

  I won’t cry. I won’t cry.

  But she failed. Large, hot tears totally blurred Drew’s face mere inches away.

  “Christ, Athena, please don’t cry. Tell me what you want me to do. How I can help you understand.”

  His raw voice touched a place deep inside her, vulnerable and waiting. It was enough for now. “Kiss me,” she ordered.

  He crushed her to him, and she wrapped her arms around him. He kissed her cheeks, her eyelids. He opened her mouth for long, slow kisses and his hands were all over, feeling her through the terrycloth robe. Scorching current ran through her and into him. She pressed her breasts against him, wanting to be closer, to feel every part of him.

  They went down together onto the soft bench. He pushed at the robe, freeing her. With her hands trembling, she hadn’t known how hard it would be to jerk off his shirt and push down his swimming trunks.

  She hadn’t seen him naked since she was seventeen. He looked more gorgeous than she remembered, and she felt beautiful as his eyes roamed over her.

  She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know the words. Something important, more intimate than mere sex was happening to her, and she didn’t know how to tell him.

  He scooped her up and carried her toward the owner’s cabin. She laughed to hide her feelings and pressed a kiss on the nape of his neck where his hair grew in a vee.

  He shuddered. “I loved when you did that.”

  Naked, they fell onto the wall-to-wall bed, rolling over, kissing and rubbing against each other.

  He held her down, and eyes wide, she stared at him, heat rising between them.

  “I want to kiss every inch of you,” he whispered. He pressed one slow, gentle kiss on her bruised shoulder. Moved lower to rub his lips against the fading bruise on her wrist and place a long, lingering kiss on her thigh.

  She tried to stay still, but she couldn’t stop shaking. With his lips brushing the inside of her thigh, she shifted under his mouth. “Drew, kiss me,” she breathed.

  He took her head in both his hands and kissed her, open-mouth, slow kisses, and she pressed against him, wanting him on top of her, wanting him inside her.

  All at once she heard bells ringing.

  “Christ,” he groaned, burying his face in her neck. “It’s the damn alarms.”

  “They’re five miles away. We have time.” She kissed his cheekbones, his hair, his eyes, not wanting to waste a precious moment of this feeling.

  “Athena, I’m going to explode in a few more minutes,” he groaned. “I want to make this last longer for you.”

  From the cockpit came a loud mechanical voice blaring out words she couldn’t quite make out.

  “Perfect. It’s my NOAA. The marine weather station. I have it set to come on every hour.” He pressed one more kiss on her swollen wet lips. “I’ve got to find out what’s going on.”

  Her entire body, from her tingling toes to her excited hair follicles, throbbed with sexual frustration. Staring at the cherrywood ceiling, she thought about the day in her office when she looked up at the molding and imagined she heard and saw the Fates laughing. This time they must be under the bed having hysterics.

  She threw on her clothes and followed Drew into the cockpit.

  Legs wide apart, he stood at the wheel.

  The sun had set. There were no stars. The sky rolled dark gray, and off in the distance, lightning flashed through black, billowing cumulus clouds.

  “This storm came up unexpectedly,” he called to her. “We’re going to motor in.”

  The storm turned the surface of the lake silver. The boat quivered as it dove into trough after trough of turbulent lake and out again.

  She wasn’t afraid. She saw the hard, almost detached look on Drew’s face. Like he welcomed the challenge of the wind and waves and rain and knew he could survive all of them.

  Through the pouring rain, lightning, and booming thunder, he took her right up to the clubhouse. “I have to go back to my berth. It’s the last one. But I want you out of this storm.”

  At the gangway, rain pelting them, he caught her in his arms for one last fast kiss. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “I know.” She ran down the gangway and into the shelter of the overhanging porch because she knew he wanted her safe. Fear for him, alone, kept her watching him maneuver away, back toward the entrance of the harbor where the bigger boats were berthed.

  It felt too new, this sense of another beginning, of discovery, of realizing she’d been waiting for this since she was too young. A steady calm fell over her body and soul. At her core she felt certain she should be here with Drew and from this point on there would never be another mistake, another regret to haunt her. He understood she’d been trying to protect him all those years ago, and she knew in her heart that when her father returned, somehow, they’d work through what happened at Clayworth’s and fix it together. Nothing could separate them now. She wouldn’t let it. Nor would Drew. This was too right.

  A clap of thunder made her jump, and she strained her eyes, trying to make sure Drew had safely reached his berth. She glanced at her watch.

  “No!” She flew back toward the gate, realizing her sisters must be waiting for her in this drenching downpour.

  At first all she saw was umbrellas. Then she could make out the guard holding a huge green umbrella over Diana. He was gazing at her as men often did, like she must be some ethereal creature come to life whom he needed to protect. In reality Diana was the most resilient of them all. The last to complain. The last to give up.

  Beside the guard, Venus held a glorious red Tiffany glass–inspired, oversized umbrella. Athena could hear her arguing with the guard, like a Greek Fury.

  “I’m here,” Athena shouted, breathless and soaked to the skin.

  “Thank you so much.” Diana smiled and moved away.

  The guard visibly wilted. “You’re leaving?” he asked, looking at all of them with dazed eyes.

  “Yes. My sister is here now. Bye,” Diana waved.

  Venus grabbed her arm, pulling her under the enormous Tiffany umbrella, and Athena huddled on the other side.

  “It’s about time. We’re soaked.” Venus sighed. “Diana had the guard nearly talked into letting us into the clubhouse to wait in comfort. We were in time to save you, right?”

  Athena gave one shaky little laugh. “Yes. Definitely saved by the proverbial bell.”

  CHAPTER

  14

  Since yesterday, excitement vibrated around her. This Monday morning the museum glistened, sandblasted by Chicago’s July sun, and the lobby hummed with tourists pouring in.

  Leonard’s “Good morning, Miss Smith,” sounded crisper, brightening her day even more than usual. She floated up the marble staircase and into her office.

  Edna Keene turned from talking to Makayla and frowned.

  Okay, so maybe happiness isn’t contagious.

  Athena refused to be daunted. “Welcome back, Edna. Isn’t it a glorious day?”

  “Without a doubt,” she sniffed. “I wouldn’t miss our staff meeting this afternoon. You’ve been a busy bee while I’ve been away.”

  It didn’t sound like a compliment. Athena lifted her chin, waiting for the next shoe to drop. She’d handle it. At last she truly felt like Athena the wise.

  “Well, Athena, I’ve come to tell you that since you acquired the two Bertha Palmer gowns, the museum board has given the green light for your new exhibit and three trustees have called to renew their support of the scholarship fund.”

  Drew kept his promise.

  Overfilling with warm, tingling joy and excitement, Athena beamed at Makayla. Now all her dreams could come true. “I’m delighted. I hope you are, too, Edna.”

  Even Edna’s deep sigh couldn’t faze Athena today.

&nbs
p; “I’ve always admired your tenacity.”

  Then why do you always give me a hard time?

  “Will you throw your full support to this?” she asked, hoping for the best.

  “We’ll see.” Edna glanced toward Makayla, who had gone to work in the corner library nook to give them a semblance of privacy. “You know, I was once a gifted intern here myself.”

  On that cryptic note, she stalked from the room.

  Athena did want happiness to be contagious. The world would be better for it. All at once, she was wise enough to know how to help Edna.

  Athena laughed. “I think Edna gives us a hard time because she’d like to be more involved with the collection, instead of being upstairs, juggling the budget. If only we could find Bertha’s last two dresses, we could give her a little dose of truth serum. It might be just what she needs to seize what she really wants.”

  Makayla giggled. “Awesome idea. Do you think you and Mr. Clayworth will find them soon? I mean, is it hard, like, to be with him because of, you know, the old BFF thing?”

  She shook her head, refusing to give in to doubt. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll find them soon. Mr. Clayworth and I have come to a meeting of the minds.”

  I wish it were our bodies.

  With great difficulty, she kept her voice neutral, or at least as calm as possible considering her desire to be whispering into his ear, murmuring against his warm mouth, and nibbling on his full lower lip right this minute.

  The minute Drew strolled into the flagship John Clayworth and Company store, which took up a square city block in Chicago’s Loop, he felt its beat. This would always be the living heart of the chain.

  By day, the first floor’s wide aisles, pillars, and curved glass counters glowed from the chandeliers and the light from the Tiffany dome ceiling six floors above.

  With time to spare before his meeting with Connor, he made his way through the Food Hall, a series of large, long rooms flowing one into the other through wide arches.

  He stopped at the Confectionery Department’s marble countertop to buy Clayworth Chocolate Mints.

  Janette smiled at him. “Hello, Mr. Clayworth. Your usual?”