Nothing’s usual about today.
He grinned at her. “Throw in an extra box today. Thanks, Janette.” Athena had always loved these. The vision of feeding them to her one by one, licking the chocolate off her lips, taunted him.
Janette stacked up five boxes of almond-flavored chocolate mints, and he laid the exact amount of money on the counter.
She looked down at the pile of bills and up at him. “I remember when you could barely see over this counter and you paid me in pennies.”
“Yeah, now it’s dollars.” He laughed. “Times have changed.”
“Thank goodness, not at Clayworth’s,” she said, pride ringing loud and clear in her voice.
It never will if I have anything to say about it.
“You’re right, Janette. We’re still the same. The customer must be pleased,” he said, repeating the store’s motto. “And I always am. Thanks.”
To work off his excess energy, his frustration at having to wait to see Athena, he walked up the wide staircase instead of taking the elevator to the ninth-floor executive offices.
On the seventh floor he stopped and looked toward the Maple Room. A long line of customers waiting to be seated for lunch stretched out the door.
Drawn to it, he stood off to the side and peered through the wide opening into the paneled room with the blue carpet symbolic of Clayworth’s.
Today the restaurant teemed with parents and kids off for summer break. Seeing it full of families reminded him of Christmas and the Chicago tradition of having breakfast with Santa under Clayworth’s giant tree.
His family tradition to invite store executives, their partners, and their children to be the first to see the fully decorated tree the night before it opened to the public brought a memory he’d buried long ago. Now he could let it out, savor it.
He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and smiled, thinking about the first time he’d seen Athena after being gone for nearly eighteen months at prep school and two summers sailing with his parents in preparation for the Fastnet.
That night he walked into the Maple Room and saw her, hair shining, eyes wide, full mouth curled laughing with her sisters, and she’d looked up at him, and his teenage libido had gone on testosterone overload.
A month away from her seventeenth birthday, she’d grown up.
His best friend, his confidante, became the object of his desire.
Christ, his gut ached, remembering.
His personal code of honor set up the boundaries. A year of memories. The year he lost his parents. The year he fell in love with Athena Smith.
He straightened, his shoulders rigid. Last night he’d never felt closer to anyone. Yet he hadn’t told her about finally sailing his own Fastnet to banish the last of his guilt and regret. Find closure. Why? For the same reason he hadn’t wanted to discuss her dad? Fear. Fear of losing her again.
Charlotte, the longtime hostess of the Maple Room, who ruled with an iron fist and marshmallow heart, came back to the reservation desk and spotted him.
“What a nice surprise, Mr. Clayworth. The family table?”
He saw the round table for eight empty in front of the large middle window overlooking State Street.
“No, thanks, Charlotte. Who’s the next big party waiting?”
She glanced out of the corner of her eye toward a harassed woman, bouncing a fussing infant in her arms, two kids resisting the attempts of a grandmother to entertain them while they waited, and a grandfather gazing into space, wearing a polo shirt with the emblem of a country club Drew recognized. Drew figured the poor guy wished he’d gone to the golf course.
“Give them the family table.”
Charlotte’s lips twitched. “That is very kind of you. Have a good day.”
“I already am.” He winked and turned away.
From behind him one of the kids gave a shout of joy. Drew felt the same way since last night.
His stride long and brisk, he entered the Circassian walnut–paneled boardroom on the ninth floor. The plush, thick blue carpet muffled his footsteps.
Connor eyed the bag Drew dropped on the table. “Have you got mints in there?”
“Not for you. They’re for Jeff and the kids I’m teaching to sail from the center.” And Athena. “Go buy your own.”
“No cash on me. God forbid I be the family member who doesn’t pay cash for my candy at Clayworth’s.” Connor laughed.
“Talk about us being creatures of habit.” Drew shook his head. “How many times growing up did we hear that we could charge anything at Clayworth’s but we had to spend our own money on candy. I wonder which of our dads thought up that family rule.”
“Mine and my mother put him up to it. If it wasn’t for Aunt Bridget, I would have been swiping candy from all of you. So. Let’s talk about stealing.”
He pulled a notebook out of his briefcase. “Ed and I have both questioned Penelope and Shelby. They were both horrified to discover the dresses were stolen from Clayworth’s Secret Closet.” A flicker of a smile curled Connor’s mouth. “I failed to point out the fact Penelope bought the dress under circumstances that could only mean it was stolen property. However, they’re both charge-account customers of long standing, and we all know what that means.”
“The customer must always be pleased,” Drew said with a crack of derisive laughter.
“Exactly.” Connor nodded. “I assured them John Clayworth and Company did not consider them culpable in any way.”
Drew leaned toward him. “Did Penelope give you the name of the fence who sold her the dress? We need to get our hands on the remaining two before anyone else becomes affected.”
“She gave us a name, but it went nowhere. A phony. Sorry, Drew. So far the gowns are untraceable. Ed is still working on it. I agree having those dresses out there makes us vulnerable to lawsuits. It’s still a possibility with both Penelope and Shelby. Although they both are saying exposure to Bertha’s dresses has changed their lives in a positive way.”
Athena in his arms flashed in front of him. Yeah, life altering.
“I don’t believe they’ll sue.” Drew shook his head. “Clayworth’s can withstand any panic, any troubles in the future as it has in the past. But we need to stay on this. Time is running out.”
All at once Drew had an overpowering sense of events rushing to a climax. The Fastnet. Clayworth’s. Athena.
He needed to see her. Touch her. Christ, his own pain and anger had kept them apart for years. No more.
• • •
Twenty minutes later he parked in the donor lot at the museum. He took the steps two at a time and in four long strides reached her office.
She stood behind her desk talking to Makayla.
“Hello,” he called with all the coolness he could muster, considering he was in the throes of sexual longing. He felt like a teenager. Next he’d be shuffling his feet!
They both stared up at him. Easy to read, Makayla widened her owl eyes in surprise, and Athena blushed a rosy stain across her high cheekbones. He saw her try to conceal her reaction by turning away to study her calendar. But he felt her excitement. It matched his own.
“Drew, you must be psychic. I was just going to call you. The board wants to recognize your generous contribution at a black tie dinner this week. We need to discuss the details. Perhaps we could meet later today?”
He didn’t miss the playful glint in her eyes. Regret and an edge of panic bit into him.
I leave for the Fastnet on Friday.
Tonight he needed to be at the harbor overseeing the dismantlement of his Wally to go to England.
Regret and desire ate at his gut. “Tomorrow would be better. Say at five?”
Both their iPhones buzzed at the same moment with text messages. His from the harbor.
“The staff meeting,” she murmured, then looked up at the ceiling and shook her head, like she saw something.
He looked up, too, but all he saw was a pale cream ceiling and heavy wooden crown moldings t
hat looked exactly like carved faces at three corners.
“Will tomorrow work for you?” he asked, looking for an excuse to linger, hoping Makayla had a reason to leave them alone for a second. He wanted to pull Athena into his arms, carry her to that red sofa, and make love to her for hours, days, weeks, forever.
“Athena, it’s time to go to the meeting.” Makayla glared at him from under lowered eyebrows, a tiny diamond twinkling in one. “Bye, Mr. Clayworth. We’ve got to go now.”
Nodding, he backed up, strangely unsure of himself.
“Tomorrow?” he asked softly.
Athena stared at him. “Yes. My place. Tomorrow at five.”
“Tomorrow are you going to talk to Mr. Clayworth about the two of you? Now you’re going to make him fall in love with you, aren’t you?”
Athena stopped in the hallway outside the meeting room and stared at Makayla. She hadn’t realized Makayla still had thoughts of vengeance until she saw it in her eyes. “Of course not,” she gasped in real shock. “We’ve put the past behind us to find Bertha’s missing gowns.”
“That’s awesome, I guess. But I gotta tell you there’s more going on with Mr. Clayworth, because every time you two are in the same room it has a really hot vibe.”
Don’t I know it.
Athena tortured herself with the clear and present knowledge that the Fates, once determined to throw her and Drew together at any cost, seemed now equally determined to keep her away from him. Well, they had played their last nasty trick on her. Nothing, and she meant nothing, would stop her from being with Drew tomorrow.
But first, she had to get through this staff meeting and wait another twenty-four anticipation-packed hours.
She kept glancing at her watch as Edna talked about the budget for the coming year. Makayla nudged Athena out of her daydreams so she could make the appropriate response, a pleased smile and a serene glance into Edna’s eyes when she congratulated her on receiving the Bertha Palmer gowns from Drew and renewed support for the scholarship fund.
The rest of the board applauded politely.
Back in their office, Athena gave Makayla a hug. “The scholarship will pay for your living expenses and all costs at the Art Institute. It’s what you’ve worked so hard to accomplish.”
Blinking her spiky lashes, Makayla stepped out of Athena’s arms. “You’re so awesome. You made it happen, and I’ll pay you back someday.”
She squeezed Makayla’s hands. “You are by never letting go of your dreams. Trust me, they do come true.”
CHAPTER
15
Dreams do come true. Tonight I’m making love with the man of my dreams.
Athena buried her face in Drusilla Junior’s warm fur before putting the cat down next to a plate of her favorite gourmand cat food. While the spoiled darling licked up every morsel, Athena fluffed up her bed and closed the gate to the mudroom, which had been transformed into kitty paradise, scratching post, catnip and all.
She turned off her iPhone and unplugged the house phones.
Now I can concentrate on seduction.
Athena drifted through her small carriage house, old-fashioned rooms with wood paneling and fireplaces in the living room and a smaller one in her bedroom.
These rooms, the feel and look of them, had always reminded her of the house where she’d grown up. A mini money pit she’d laughingly called it while restoring the small house to its former glory.
It might be warm tonight, but she loved her bedroom lit by only flickering flames, so she struck a match to start a fire.
The four-poster brass bed loomed as wide as the wall-to-wall bunk on Drew’s boat. She saw herself and Drew there on the antique white cotton lace spread, resting on the pile of silk pillows, like they’d been on the Clayworth blue down comforter on the boat. Could smell his clean skin and feel the almost electric touch of his lips.
How would Drew feel about this intimate bower? Too soft, like the Egyptian cotton sheets on the bed?
Would the dressing table with crystal perfume bottles, and the sterling silver hand mirror engraved with her initials, seem too feminine? Would the books in the low bookcase against the far wall help him understand who she’d become in the intervening years?
She felt hot and eager but amazingly calm. There wasn’t any pretense. Any fear. They both knew why he was coming here tonight, and they both wanted it.
The old grandfather clock in the living room chimed the hour. Four p.m. Only an hour left.
She ran a hot bath and threw in her favorite bath oil, floral with a hint of spice.
She piled her hair on top of her head with tortoiseshell combs and stepped into the deep claw-footed tub. The perfumed steam swirled around her as she leaned back and closed her eyes.
This is how I prepare to seduce the man of my dreams.
When the doorbell rang at 4:58, the odd thought came to her that it could be the UPS guy or FedEx with some package, and here she’d be standing in the exquisite lavender French lace peignoir and gown from the store, with her hair falling around her shoulders and every inch of her perfumed.
She demanded the Fates give her a break.
She peeked through the lace curtain on the side windows and saw Drew on the front porch. He paced back and forth in front of the door, and his blue eyes, always arresting in his tan face, appeared the tiniest bit haunted by the possibility of defeat.
She slid the robe off. Better to let him know this night was a sure bet.
She opened the door and smiled up at him. Still a little hesitant, he stepped in, his gaze roaming over her body. She shut the door behind him and firmly turned the lock.
She felt the current coming from him. Heat. Hesitation. A magical tension. She smiled.
Something very important is about to happen here.
But who would tip the scale? Make the first move?
Me.
On tiptoe, she leaned all her weight into him and clasped her fingers around his neck. Their lips clung together, broke, met again.
Hers ached and burned a little from the hot current flowing between them.
Like he had on the boat, he swept her up in his arms and she giggled, suddenly breaking the tension, making this achingly real.
At last, I’m where I belong.
She buried her face in the curve of his neck, breathing in his clean scent. He smelled of fresh air, and soap, with a hint of lime.
He pressed soft kisses all over her face and hair, and hesitated only one heartbeat before he found the bedroom.
He lifted her up on the nest of pillows and stretched out beside her. A little muscle danced in his cheek and he looked flushed, making his eyes a riveting blue as he ran his thumb over her lower lip, stroked her cheek.
Every nerve in her body came alive.
“Remember what I did when we went skinny- dipping?” he asked softly.
She bit at her lip, trying not to smile, but failed now that she understood his noble reason.
“Of course. You made me immediately put all my clothes back on. My ego has never recovered.”
His low, intimate chuckle tickled her throat where he pressed a kiss. “Now I want to immediately take them all off.”
“At last,” she sighed. She went up onto her knees, and Drew followed her so they were in the middle of the bed, her thighs pressed against his.
He lifted a handful of her hair and touched it to his lips. “Scented of roses and everything nice,” he said softly.
His warm, dry lips opened her mouth—lingeringly, hot—and again, scorching current ran through her. Blood pounded in her throat and in her breasts under the touch of his lips and fingers.
She slid his polo shirt over his head, running her fingertips along his shoulders and down his well-defined smooth chest. She curled her fingers into the waistband of his trousers, releasing the belt and zipper.
She loved the intense, almost amazed expression on his face as he leaned back on his arms and let her pull off his pants, briefs, and loafers.
Her body felt warm and flushed within the thin confines of lavender silk and lace. “I’ve always been the shameless hussy who wanted to see you naked.”
He ran his hand up between her legs, parting the silk. At his gentle urging, she lay down beside him. He cradled her head, rocking his lips over hers. “No, you’ve always been Athena the wise.”
He slid both straps off her shoulders and the gown fell to her waist. “Athena the beautiful.” His lips opened against her breasts, and his tongue made slow circles on the sensitive sides.
She couldn’t keep her breathing quiet, couldn’t stop her body from shuddering. She’d been waiting a lifetime for this.
With one gentle tug, he threw the gown to the foot of the bed. He pressed a kiss on her hot, naked belly, “Athena the wonderful.”
More silken kisses on the inside of her thighs. “Athena the perfect.” His voice, the one that had always drawn her, made her love him.
Her hips moved against his mouth and he sucked gently, his tongue stroking her.
The sizzling shock released every aching desire, drowning her in him, his caresses, and his hands cradling her hips.
Pleasure built under his mouth stroking her deeper and deeper, and she couldn’t stop the purr at the back of her throat.
“Drew,” she gasped.
He slid up over her body, taking her mouth and, at the same instant parting her thighs and pushing inside her in a movement so exquisitely perfect for her needs, her desires, she lost her breath.
Pleasure erupted in waves, one after another. She gripped his shoulders, the tension almost too much to bear. It went on and on until they were both shaking, moving together, one body hurtling through space and time, at last, at last with nothing keeping them apart.
Her face rosy, her hair a beautiful, golden, perfumed silken mess against the pillow, Drew couldn’t stop watching her.
In sleep her lips parted a little, luscious and pink. He gave in to his desire to kiss her again. He had years of kisses to make up to her.
A Black Tie Affair Page 15
