A Wolff at Heart

by Janice Maynard

  “Another day,” he promised. “I’ve been inspired by your decor.”

  She looked at him curiously, a tiny wrinkle appearing between her brows. “As in swinging from the chandelier?”

  “Not that.” He chuckled softly as he took her hand and led her to the ottoman. “I thought we’d try out this intriguing piece of furniture.”

  Thirteen

  Nikki’s expression was priceless. “Um…”

  “You said you trust me.”

  “I do….” Her eyes were big, as if what he was suggesting was wicked.

  Come to think of it, the thoughts he was having definitely might fall under that category. “Then kneel for me, Nikki…on this oh-so-soft stool.” The bright fabrics were satiny, and he had a hunch they would feel stimulating against her breasts.

  She glanced down at his straining erection, her gaze a gratifying mixture of fascination, eagerness and trepidation. “I can do that.”

  Gracefully, she knelt, her hands resting on the cushion.

  “All the way,” he said. “Drape yourself over it.”

  He heard her breath catch. The audible evidence of her excitement made him tremble. As she obeyed his request, the additional visual stimulation was sheer torture for him. Breathing heavily, he went to his knees as well. Her pretty bottom was there before him, clad only in a few strips of white nylon and lace.

  Moving forward, he spread his knees until his thighs pressed against the backs of hers. With long, firm strokes, he massaged her back, starting low on her spine and moving all the way up to her shoulders. Her head fell forward as she rested her face in the crook of her elbow.

  Taking her hands, he stretched out her arms, guiding them to the front two legs of the ottoman. Now she was completely at his mercy, vulnerable…delectable. “How do you feel?” he asked softly, caressing the curves of her butt.

  “Naughty.”

  The prompt one-word answer surprised a hoarse laugh from his oxygen-starved lungs. Any second now he would hyperventilate. “I’m okay with that,” he said, grinning. “Since I’m about to ravish my lady lawyer.”

  She wriggled beneath his touch, her voice muffled. “I don’t really think I’m your lawyer. In addition to my being on vacation, this would be a definite conflict of interest.”

  He leaned forward to kiss the back of her neck, brushing the hair aside. “Then perhaps you’re my girlfriend. How does that sound?”

  Beneath him, she went perfectly still. “Girlfriend?”

  He rubbed his shaft in the cleft of her butt. “We’re having sex. I’m wearing a tux tonight. Sounds like a relationship to me.” And damned if he didn’t like the idea. A lot.

  “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  Her wry comment would have bothered him had he not been so intent on hurrying things along. “Fair enough.”

  When he touched her between the legs, he found her damp and warm and ready. Brushing his fingertips over the place that made her groan with pleasure, he felt her tension rise.

  “Pierce?”

  He rested his whole weight on her for a moment, pressing her into the cushion. “Hmm?” He grasped her wrists and manacled them to the wooden legs of the stool.

  “Is this how you always have sex?”

  “I can safely say it’s a first for me.”

  “I can’t decide if that makes me feel better or worse. Seems like one of us should have some experience.”

  “Don’t worry, my sweet. I won’t let you fall off.”

  “Such a gentleman.”

  Her low laugh raked across his nerve endings. His shaft hardened a millimeter more. He had reached the end of his patience. If he had his way, he would play with her all day and all night. But since he had come up short in the protection department, he’d have to make do with one intense coupling. And sometime before the gala, he was definitely going to hit up the drugstore for more condoms.

  He reared back and took one last look at the beauty of her delicately etched spine. There, where her waist nipped in and her bottom flared, was a spot just made for a man’s grasp. He rested one hand to steady himself and with the other guided his erection to the opening of her sex. Not bothering to remove her underwear, he shoved the minimal band aside.

  Nudging the head of his shaft at her swollen flesh, he pushed inward. The color and light in her room didn’t matter, because his eyes squeezed shut as he found his way to heaven. This angle was so much more stimulating. Or perhaps it was the caveman position…or the sound of Nikki’s panting…or maybe even the way she lifted into his thrusts, as though fearing he might stop short.

  She was tight. And hot. She had turned her head to one side, so he could see her profile. The small, straight nose, the softly curved lips, the eyelashes that rested in a crescent on her rosy cheek.

  The rhythm of push and retreat made his scalp tingle with the premonition of what was to come. He welcomed the oblivion, courted it. Nikki squeezed him with hidden muscles, shoving him closer to the edge. With both hands on her bottom, he slammed into her, flesh to flesh, groan to groan, hunger to hunger.

  Sweat made his eyes sting. Or maybe it was the thought of never having met her. Everything about her made him crazy with wanting. Suddenly he felt the butterfly flutters of her passage as she whimpered and arched her back in climax. The extra dollop of stimulation snapped his control, and he came hard, testing the limits of the little ottoman.

  After that, things became hazy as he slumped on top of her, trying to spare her his full weight. But his legs were embarrassingly weak, and his chest burned as he gasped for air.

  “Sweet Lord.” She had turned him inside out.

  Nikki was quiet, too quiet. In sudden alarm, he rolled to the floor and lay on his back so he could see her face. Her eyes were closed, a tiny smile tilting the corners of her mouth.

  She was limp and sated, her body completely relaxed on its perch. He tickled the side of her breast. “You still breathing?”

  Her tongue came out to wet her lips. “Barely.” The word was slurred.

  “I don’t suppose you have any idea what time it is?”

  “Clock on the bedside table,” she muttered.

  He craned his neck. “Damn, damn, damn.”

  The one eyebrow he could see lifted. “Problem?”

  “If I’m going to take you out on the town, we’ve got to get a move on.”

  “I’ll just stay right here,” she said, the words drowsy. “You can come back later.”

  “No way.” He lurched to his feet and disposed of the condom. With one last look at the erotic picture she made, he sighed and dragged her to her feet. “Hit the shower, woman. I’ll pick you up in an hour and a half.”

  Nikki lifted her arms above her head and stretched. “If you say so.”

  He grabbed her up in a bear hug and pressed a kiss to her soft lips. “Don’t be late. Or I might have to spank you.”

  “Promises, promises.”

  He made himself walk toward the door. But the last thing he saw as he looked wistfully over his shoulder was the sight of Nikki stepping out of her panties and sauntering toward the bathroom.

  * * *

  Nikki sat at one of many linen-clad tables for eight, the only person in residence at the moment on her particular island. The centerpieces across the room were elaborate arrangements of summer roses in cream, pink and soft yellow. Crystal sparkled. Silver gleamed. A stringed quartet played quietly in a far corner. Everything about the evening was a classy homage to wealth and privilege.

  It takes money to make money. The old adage was true. Nikki had done enough charity work to know that these things followed a certain pattern. Court donors, thank donors, keep donors interested in the cause. Pierce was mingling, his stature and good looks making him hard to miss, even in the crowd. They
were ensconced in the dining room of a stately old home in Charlottesville’s historic district. Dinner had been lavish and delicious. Quail, summer vegetables, spinach soufflé, yeast rolls.

  At the moment Nikki was finishing up her last bite of raspberry ice, which had been served with mint wafers and assorted dessert coffees.

  Dancing would commence shortly in the grand ballroom, but at the moment, her tablemates, all of them board members and their spouses, were hobnobbing with VIPs. Since Nikki knew virtually no one in the room, she had chosen to sit back and watch. Already both of Virginia’s senators had made brief remarks before rushing off to the next item on their agendas.

  Pierce joined her at last, reaching for his glass of ice water. “Well, I’ve done my part. Now we can have fun.”

  “What about the award?”

  “We’re waiting for the governor. Whenever he arrives, the dance floor will be cleared and we’ll spend twenty or thirty minutes on the items listed in the program.”

  He stroked his hand down her arm. To the casual observer, the gesture would appear entirely proper. But Nikki shivered at the heat in his gaze. Deep, dark eyes gleamed with intent.

  She sipped from her own water glass, flustered by the wash of heat at her throat. Pierce looked magnificent tonight. Chiseled jaw. Tanned skin above a snow-white shirt collar. His tux had clearly not been purchased off the rack. If fit him perfectly, revealing the width of his shoulders and the ripple of muscles in his powerful thighs and broad chest.

  When she refused to meet his eyes, he leaned into her, their heads almost touching. “I can’t wait to hold you in my arms,” he said. His breath was warm on her cheek.

  Such a simple statement. Yet so much unspoken.

  At that moment, several members of their immediate party returned, forcing Pierce to remove himself to a respectable distance. As the others took their seats, laughing and talking and enjoying refills of wine, she wondered if any of them knew or cared that Pierce made her tremble just by sitting near her.

  She dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Did you speak with your mother this afternoon?”

  Pierce flinched. His gaze narrowed. “I called and told her I was back in town.”

  “And?”

  “And that I had nothing to report.”

  His jaw jutted as though daring her to argue with him. But this was neither the time nor the place. “How’s your dad?”

  “Better. They’re sending him home tomorrow. He’ll still be receiving dialysis, of course, but as an outpatient.”

  “I’m glad he’s improving.”

  “It’s only a holding pattern. Without a kidney, he won’t make it.” She saw his hand grip a knife at his plate before he deliberately released it and swallowed half a glass of chardonnay in one gulp.

  “Some people survive with one.”

  “If that one kidney is healthy. Dad has twenty percent function in one and fifteen in the other.”

  “I see.” The prospect was indeed bleak. And she understood Pierce’s desire to spare his mother pain. But his mom must surely be tormented with questions about her son’s parentage. How could anyone put that aside? The uncertainty likely ate away at her. Nikki should know. She had firsthand knowledge about what kind of pain that futile wondering engendered.

  A flurry of movement and noise signaled the moment to shift to the salon. Pierce took her hand and lifted her to her feet. His fingertips at her back, he ushered her ahead of him amid the press of guests walking and talking excitedly. This particular home had never before been opened to the public, so anticipation was high.

  The magnificent room did not disappoint. Gleaming hardwood floors underfoot gave the feel of an earlier time. Enormous mirrors patterned after the hall at Versailles reflected colorfully dressed women and the black-and-white perfection of their escorts.

  A small orchestra struck up the opening bars of a romantic Gershwin classic. Pierce smiled down at her. “I believe this dance is mine.”

  Her lack of experience was fortunately mitigated by her escort’s athletic grace. He moved her across the floor with dexterity, pausing now and again to talk to friends and to introduce Nikki.

  She felt like Cinderella at the ball. Certainly her background had not prepared her for this. Though she had learned to project confidence in most situations, even the most jaded of women might be swept off her feet in this fairy-tale setting.

  Pierce’s hand was warm on her back. They moved as one, perfectly in accord. Too bad they were not similarly aligned in their opinions about Pierce’s past. She rested her head on his shoulder as the musicians lapsed into an even dreamier tune. If she could distill this moment and save it, she would. He was ruining her for other men.

  She had done her research on the subject of the Wolff family this afternoon when Pierce was home getting ready. The press had plenty to say about the secretive billionaires. Reclusive…tightly knit…marked by tragedy. The patriarchs, brothers Victor and Vincent Wolff, were now old men. In the late seventies they had both married women fifteen years their junior. But in the 1980s Laura and Delores Wolff were kidnapped, held for ransom and later killed. Pierce would have been about five at the time if Nikki’s math was right.

  At that point the two grieving widowers, terrified for the safety of their children, had built an enormous house deep in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The home was referred to by locals and the press as Wolff Castle. The pictures Nikki had seen were impressive.

  Both of the Wolff brothers had multiple children, Victor, three sons, and Vincent, one daughter and two sons.

  And a third son he thought was dead.

  A son who had no interest in embracing his roots, or so he said.

  The dance drew to a close, and at a podium near one of the windows, a man stepped up to the mike and called for attention. Moments later the governor’s entourage streamed into the room.

  Pierce brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I’ve got to work my way to the front for my presentation.”

  “I never asked. Who’s getting an award?”

  “A local businessman who has been instrumental in organizing volunteers to maintain large sections of the trail not too far from here. He also gave a significant amount of money, but the award is for his grassroots activism. I won’t be long.”

  Nikki stood, mostly unnoticed, near the navy velvet drapes flanking a window. Had she been so inclined, she could have perched quietly in the window embrasure. But she wanted to monitor the action.

  The governor was charismatic, well spoken and suitably complimentary both of the area’s natural beauty and of the conservancy’s efforts to preserve the trail as a conduit for the nation’s hikers. There was some political slant, but mostly a genuine appreciation of the group’s purpose and efforts. When he was done, there were a few photo ops, and then it was time for the remainder of the program.

  Nikki’s heart beat with pride when Pierce took center stage to present his award. Articulate and sophisticated, he was equally at home in this rarefied social setting as he was climbing mountains and traversing rivers.

  She glanced at the program she held and noticed that right at the end, there was to be a special guest. Pierce was momentarily trapped, since all of the board and the staff members were standing up front.

  The conservancy’s president made remarks next, and then introduced his mystery guest, who stepped forward out of the crowd. The president shook hands with the man and spoke once more into the mike. “As many of you know, a series of severe storms has decimated portions of the trail. Although volunteer efforts are critical and much appreciated, some of the repair work requires an influx of cash. Tonight I am happy to introduce the man whose family has donated five hundred thousand dollars for trail repair. Ladies and gentleman, please help me welcome Mr. Devlyn Wolff.”

  Nikki’s legs turned to jelly as a s
he heard the name roll and echo in her head. Her gaze shot to Pierce, but he was not looking at her. His face was blank, wiped clean of all expression. She was probably the only one in the room who had any inkling that he had just been dealt an unexpected blow.

  A man with Pierce’s smile lifted a hand in response to the crowd’s roar of approval. Devlyn stood before the microphone, waiting until the noise died. “On behalf of my entire family,” he said, “it is my pleasure to make this donation to the Appalachian Trail Conservancy. We value the trail as a whole, but we have a special place in our hearts for the portion that passes very near my family’s home on Wolff Mountain.

  “The AT symbolizes all that is best about our country. For a man or a woman to set foot on that long, winding path stretching from Maine to Georgia means to disconnect from the frantic pace of the twenty-first century and to reconnect with our roots. We need the solace of wilderness to bring us down to earth…literally. And to remind us that no matter how far we progress in the realm of technology and communication, our most basic need is to recognize our humanity and our bond with the natural world. I commend the many volunteers who give so passionately of their time and talents. And I hope that as each of you has the opportunity to be out on the trail this year and in the years to come, either as casual hikers or section hikers or the die-hard thru-hikers, you will take a moment to stop and listen to the wind as it speaks fleetingly of all who have gone before you.

  “Thank you for your hospitality tonight, and thank you for protecting this beautiful place we call home.”

  Nikki blinked, and he was gone, swallowed up in a crowd of well-wishers. She was stunned. Breathless. Now that she knew the truth, there was no mistaking the resemblance between Devlyn Wolff and Pierce Avery. Though fraternal twins and not identical, there was symmetry in the way they held themselves and the way they spoke so passionately of nature and its influence on the quality of life.

  Their coloring was similar. Warm golden skin, dark hair—though Devlyn’s was more black than dark brown—and physical builds that were strong and powerful. Pierce had been standing only feet away from his blood brother. How could he turn his back on his family now?