by Diana Palmer
“His mother is our cook,” he explained with a smile. “She’s a fine lady. Tommy’s a good boy. He got in with the wrong crowd and had to be salvaged. He’s turned out very nicely. He’s going to night school, and I think he’s going to be a lawyer one day.”
“You are a nice man,” she said with genuine feeling.
“Well, I think of it as reciprocation. If a nice man hadn’t bailed me out when I was a teenager, I might have ended up in jail for life. If we pass a kindness along, it multiplies.”
“What a good thought.”
“You operate on the same principle, don’t you?” He pursed his lips and studied her in the beautiful gown. “Dee tells me that you spend Saturdays helping her as a volunteer at a homeless shelter.”
“Yes,” she confessed. “I get a lot of satisfaction from helping people less fortunate than myself. It’s much the same for you, I guess, planning a way to make me happy tonight.”
“My intentions are not so unselfish, I’m afraid. I just want to be with you,” he murmured.
That was just what Ivory wanted to hear; and for tonight, it was enough.
The night lights were beautiful. She stared out the window like the small-town girl she’d once been, wrapped up in expensive clothing and dreams. She smiled as she contemplated the hard climb she’d already made, from a small farm to a chauffeur-driven limousine in New York City, with one of its most handsome and eligible bachelors sitting beside her. The fact that she was able to cope so well in an unfamiliar setting made her feel even better. Dinner lay ahead with its unfamiliar utensils set out in bewildering array, but she could watch him and follow his lead in selecting the right ones for each dish. For a woman who’d come from such poverty, she was doing amazingly well, she thought.
She felt his gaze and turned her head in the shadowy confines to look toward him. He wasn’t smiling now, and the way he looked at her made the pulse throb in her throat.
With frank desire, he let his gaze linger where the deep neckline cut across her creamy breasts, giving a tantalizing glimpse of their soft pink curves. Then he looked back up, catching her eyes, and watched her lips part on a breath she couldn’t quite contain.
He held out his hand and she laid hers within it. He took her hand to his mouth, kissing the palm with sensual tenderness.
Ivory thought that she’d never known such happiness. Her eyes adored him, tempted him, pleaded with him; but he came not a step closer. Even though he must have known that she was ready for anything he asked of her, he kept his distance.
“Patience,” he said quietly, still retaining possession of her hand. “We have all the time in the world.”
She laughed self-consciously. “Am I that obvious?”
“Yes.” He smiled at her expression. “I’ll let you choose the time and place. Whatever you want, Ivory. Whenever you want it.”
She understood instinctively what he was telling her. He was prepared if she wanted the night to end with more than kisses. She averted her face. It wasn’t fair to put the responsibility all on her. On the other hand, he was telling her subtly that it wasn’t going to be seduction. He wasn’t the sort of man to take what he wanted and walk away without looking back. He was offering much more than a night in his arms, but she didn’t know if she was ready. She was wary of starting something that might jeopardize her career, regardless of the fact that she would have done anything for the man beside her.
“Don’t worry so,” he chided. “We’re going to have a delicious dinner and dance for a while.”
“And then?” she asked softly.
He searched her face. “Ask me later.”
She nodded and changed the subject by commenting on the holiday lights reflected in the fountains of the tall buildings they passed. He answered in kind and kept the conversation light all the way to the fabled restaurant high above the city.
Ivory wondered a time or two during the evening if she weren’t still dreaming. The city spread out below them, glittering with a million jewels. They ate prawn cocktails, followed by beef Wellington with new potatoes and julienne carrots, and then an exquisite salad. For dessert, he had a chocolate mousse and she ordered English trifle. They finished with a delicious aged port. After living on a budget that permitted no luxuries in food other than an occasional visit to the Japanese restaurant near the office, Ivory savored every bite.
“It seems almost sinful to eat this well,” she confessed to him.
“Don’t look so guilty,” he said gently. “I’m a rich man, haven’t you noticed? I can afford treats like this.”
“It’s more than a treat to me. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He glanced toward the dance floor, where several couples were moving slowly to music provided by a celebrity band. “Do you dance?”
“A little.”
“Come on, then.”
The lazy rhythm of the dance, added to the delicious fullness from the meal and the effects of the heady port, made her reckless. She slid both arms around his neck and moved closer, pleased by the sudden stiffening of his body that told her he was affected by her closeness.
“Is this an invitation?” he asked at her ear.
Her fingers tightened where they were linked behind his head. “I...don’t know,” she said, hesitating. She drew back and looked up at him. Sparks of pleasure darted through her at the way he was watching her. “If it is an invitation, it’s to something I’ve never done before.”
“Yes. I know.”
She lowered her eyes to his mouth. “I don’t even know if I can.”
His lean hands drew her close and he listened to her sharp gasp. Her breathing grew quick and stifled.
“Do you want to find out?” he asked quietly. “There won’t be any risk. I promise you.”
She laid her forehead against his jacket and drank in the sexy fragrance he wore. “Yes,” she whispered. Under her fingertips his chest heaved. “Yes, I think...that I’d like to find out.” Her eyes lifted. “But you don’t need to worry that I’ll cling, or make demands...”
His finger came up to press against her lips and stop the words. “I know you better than that.”
She smiled gently, shyly, and pressed closer. Probably he did. She refused to think about tomorrow. The gossips all thought he was sleeping with her anyway, so what difference did it make? She was lonely and very much in love with him, and he obviously felt something special for her. He’d even said once that it would be more than a physical thing. Just for once, she was going to do what she really wanted to do, and not worry about the consequences.
He took her back to his apartment and dismissed the driver. He didn’t try to sneak her up the back stairs. He held her hand and appeared totally unconcerned about gossip.
“You look lovely,” he said huskily as they rode up in the elevator. “I was proud to be seen with you tonight.”
She beamed.
Inside his apartment, it was cozy and warm, and dimly lit. He lifted the velvet coat from her shoulders and tossed it over the back of the sofa.
“Care for a drink?” he asked.
She shook her head. She shouldn’t be nervous, she told herself. He wouldn’t hurt her. All the same, it was a monumental step in her life. She hadn’t thought that she’d ever want this with any man. Giving up control of her body was like giving up control of her life. But Curry was different. Very different. She had dreamed about him night after night. She loved him so much. What they shared tonight would be something to remember in the lonely years ahead, because she knew he wasn’t the kind of man who wanted or needed marriage. After him, there would be, could be, no one else for her.
Her eyes came to rest on a length of oyster-colored satin cloth draped over a chair. “What’s that?” she asked.
“A sample of some fabric we’re going to use in a promotional ad for your new collection,” he said. He
picked it up and ran it through his fingers with slow, intense sensuality. His gaze fell on Ivory and lingered until her heart ran wild in her chest.
“Come here, Ivory,” he said quietly.
She went to him. In his expression was a deliberation that both excited and frightened her. He moved to unbutton her gown and gently slid it from her shoulders to let it fall around her ankles. Then he removed everything under it until she was completely nude.
Before she had time to be embarrassed, he took the length of satin and draped it around her, drawing it softly over her skin in sensuous brushes that quickly aroused her. He drew it over her breasts, so that her nipples contracted and went dusky. He slid it around her thigh and drew it lingeringly through and around the other leg and upward, between her legs in a whispery caress that made her tremble.
“Are you ready, Ivory?” he asked in a tone that made her whole body throb.
She looked into his face and knew that she had no will to deny him, not under the circumstances.
He needed no words. He found his answer in her half-closed, dreamy eyes.
He laid her gently, draped in the satin, on the bed. Then he stood over her, his gaze never leaving hers, and undressed for her.
She’d never seen a man without his clothing. Curry’s body was lean and muscular, tanned all over, with thick hair beginning on his chest and running in a wedge down over his flat stomach, feathering his powerful thighs. She moved restlessly against the satin, feeling like a siren as she watched him become aroused. It was shocking and somehow beautiful and natural, all at once.
“I won’t put out the light,” he said quietly. “This isn’t going to be sordid or casual. You won’t be ashamed, afterward?”
“No,” she whispered. “I love you.”
“As I love you,” he replied, his voice as solemn as his face.
Whether or not he meant it, her heart soared. He eased down alongside her, his hands sliding over the length of satin again. He smiled faintly as he began to draw it along her skin again, watching her reactions with tender pride.
“All these years of working with fabric, haven’t you even wondered how erotic it could be against your bare body?” he asked.
“I couldn’t have let anyone...” she began, and suddenly cried out when he touched her unexpectedly.
“Will you be afraid if I confess that I’ve never made love to a virgin?” he asked, doing it again. “But I’ll try my best to make it good for you, even this first time.”
“I love you,” she choked. “It will be good...even if it hurts.”
He smiled as he lowered his mouth to her stomach. “Oh, it won’t hurt,” he murmured. He felt her surging, sobbing response to his tongue as he began to trace soft, slow patterns there while his hand slid under her and drew the satin lazily against her taut breasts.
The minutes that followed were the most shocking and the most beautiful of Ivory’s life. His mouth was all over her, against her breasts, her back, her thighs, her arms, there wasn’t one space that he didn’t caress. He whispered to her in Spanish, soft, sensuous love words that made her tingle. She breathed in the clean scent of him, savored the delicious touch of his hard-muscled flesh against her bare skin. She let him guide her hands, let him teach her how and when and where to touch him in return.
She didn’t know what she’d expected of her first sexual experience, but it was nothing like the movies she’d seen or the books she’d read. He was beside her, inside her, around her, over her, behind her. She was so aroused that she couldn’t even define the first instant of penetration, because the pleasure ebbed and flowed from his hands to his mouth to the slow, lazy thrust of his hips.
And all the while, that silky satin rubbed against her skin, making the pleasure so dark and sweet that she wept and wept against his chest, his throat and his mouth.
Only once did he lift his head to look into her eyes, at the very moment when she shot off into the sun, her eyes fixed on his face, her body convulsing uncontrollably under the measured thrust of his hips. As the urgency subsided, embarrassed, she started to turn her head, but his hands held it still.
“Watch,” he ground out.
His face contorted. She felt him clench suddenly and shiver. A deep cry muffled in his throat and he sucked in a breath. All the while he held her fast so that she could see him.
When he relaxed, his weight was deep and warm and heavy upon her. His hands on her face fell away and he shuddered as he tried to breathe.
She was red-faced and weak. He brushed back her hair, but he didn’t move.
“I’ve never let anyone watch,” he said.
“But...people don’t...” she choked huskily.
“We do.” He kissed her eyes closed, savoring her wet eyelashes with his tongue. “Nothing we do will ever be more intimate than that. Te quiero. I love you.”
She clung to him, her eyes closed, her body languid, floating. He moved a little again and she groaned in response, her nails biting into him as her breathing grew rapid and her hips lifted involuntarily.
He raised his head and saw the helpless hunger that had returned to her eyes.
“All right,” he said softly. “But we have to prepare for it first.”
“Again?” She was surprised.
He reached beside the bed and let her watch him do what was necessary. “Every time,” he said quietly. “I won’t risk you. Not that way.”
She stared at him, torn between curiosity and urgent need to experience again the racking pleasure he could give her. In the end, he took the burden of that decision from her by simply leaning over and placing his mouth softly over her own.
Later, after a leisurely bath in the sunken tub, she dressed again. He’d already showered and was dressed and pacing the living room. He greeted her a little remotely, now that the urgency of passion was removed. She was puzzled and faintly wounded by his manner. The phone had rung while she was in the tub. She wondered if the call had anything to do with the somber, disturbed look on his face.
He didn’t say a word until he’d eased her into the velvet coat. “I have to take you home,” he said. “Mama called. She wants me to come over. She’s not feeling well.”
It was New Year’s Eve. She felt guilty that she’d taken him away from his mother on such an occasion when there might never be another New Year’s Eve for him to spend with his mother.
“I’m sorry,” she began.
He put his forefinger over her tender lips. “Don’t ever be sorry for such an exquisite loving,” he replied solemnly, searching her eyes.
She blushed a little and he smiled.
“What did you think?” he teased gently. “Did you read that men tell all sorts of lies to get a woman into bed and then become immediately disinterested when they’ve had what they wanted?”
She shifted restlessly. “Of course not.”
He chuckled. “Liar.” He pulled her close with a contented sigh and kissed her with breathless tenderness. “I told you that I love you,” he said softly, holding her gaze while he said it. “Would you like to hear it again, when I’m not aroused?”
Her eyes twinkled. “Yes.”
He kissed her eyes shut. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love the way you talk to yourself and the way you worry about me. I love it that you gave me a present when every other woman I’ve ever known only asked what I was going to give her. I love everything about you.”
She hugged him close and laid her cheek against his chest. “I don’t want to go home.”
He stiffened a little, because he didn’t want to let her go either, but his mother’s call had sounded urgent, and he was worried. He drew back, brushing her hair away from her eyes with a gentle hand. “I don’t want to let you go,” he agreed. “But Mama is dying, inch by inch. She sacrificed for me all my life. Now, when she needs me, I have to go to her.”
&
nbsp; She nodded. “It must be wonderful to have a mother you care about that much, one who cares about you, too.”
“Doesn’t your mother care about you?” he asked with surprise.
She smiled. “We’d better go.”
“Okay. Keep your secrets, for now.” He traced her eyebrows, a little darker gold than her hair. “One day, though, I want to know everything. All of it. People who love each other shouldn’t have to keep secrets.”
Her heart leaped in her chest. He was right. But how could she ever tell him about her past? The thought of it made her sick all over. He wouldn’t want her anymore if he knew what she was, what her mother was. Right now, just the thought of Marlene was enough to make her panic.
“Stop worrying,” he chided.
“Just a stray thought,” she confessed with a smile. “Thank you for the New Year’s celebration.”
“My pleasure.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “You can’t imagine the pleasure it was, either,” he added with a smoldering, unblinking gaze that made her knees weak. “I thought I knew it all until tonight. You were a revelation.”
“So were you,” she murmured shyly.
He laughed with pure delight. “Did it shock you?”
She nodded. “It isn’t like what they show in the movies,” she said.
“They’d all go to jail for showing it that way in the movies,” he said. He caught her hand in his. “I phoned the driver while you were in the tub. He’ll meet us downstairs.”
She let him lead her to the door. She looked back into the open bedroom, where the satin cloth on the disheveled bed gleamed in the overhead light. It had been smooth and spotless at first, and now it was wrinkled and stained. She pushed the faint guilt she felt to the back of her mind and followed Curry into the hall. He closed the door behind them, and the echo of that sound stayed in her mind all the long way home.
CHAPTER TEN
CURRY’S MOTHER WAS sitting up in bed when he arrived at her apartment. His sister, Audrey, was there, too, looking harassed and worried. She drew him to one side while the round-the-clock nurse took Teresa Kells’s vital signs.
