“Show me the dresses,” he said, squinting at her, his mouth puckered.
“The dresses? OH, yes, alright. Well, you sit down and I’ll go change, and you can make the decision for me.” She was suddenly excited, always enjoying modeling pretty dresses. “But keep in mind, my hair is not fixed and I’m not wearing jewelry and make-up yet.”
He slumped into the kitchen chair with a dramatic sigh, accepting the tea cup she offered him. “I feel like the dutiful husband now,” he said, glancing up at her. “Only the wife is going out on a date with someone else.”
She smacked him on the shoulder and bounced up the stairs to dress.
The first dress was a soft, black chiffon, cut elegantly in a straight line across the top of her breasts, quite modest in the front, but deeply scooped in the back. From the tiny strap at the right shoulder hung a gold oval pendant, giving the dress a Grecian flare. She slid her feet into black pumps and glided down the stairs, curious of his reaction.
He said nothing, only motioned for her to turn around.
“Alright. Let’s see the other one,” he said.
Disappointed that he had obviously not thought much of the dress, she walked back up the stairs and slipped into the other, which was a deep maroon-wine color. This one was quite sexy, with full cleavage, but fell in soft lines around her hips. Dark silver, high heeled sandals that had cost her a fortune, perfectly complimented her sculpted calves, and she walked down the steps gingerly, aware of the extra high heels.
She twirled again for him, stopping only when she noticed that he had turned his head, facing away from her.
“Well?” She stood still not knowing what else to say.
“The black one,” he answered in a brusque tone, sipping his tea and looking straight ahead at the kitchen wall.
“Alright.” Sara was disappointed that he didn’t seem to be in the least enthusiastic about either dress. She had thought that they were both quite pretty, but she had to acknowledge that he lived in a world of beautiful women who purchased stunning designer gowns that she would never be able to afford. “Up to change. I’ll just be a minute and then I’ll get the coffee ready for the morning.”
“Sara,” he said just as she was about to climb the stairs.
“Yes?”
“Don’t wear this one for anyone else but me.” He stared into her eyes darkly.
Sara blushed and removed her shoes, not daring to climb the steps with the high heels and the thoughts in her head.
“I’m going to bed, Sara,” he glanced at her when she returned. “It feels like I might be coming down with something. You go ahead and have your wine, perhaps watch some telly. I’ll see you in the morning.” He gave her a weary smile.
“Oh, Alex, I’m sorry you don’t feel well. Can I fix you anything? Some tea with honey and lemon? Let me get you some tablets.” She reached over and touched his forehead but it didn’t feel feverish.
“No, I’ll be fine. I think I just need some extra sleep.” He brushed her hand that was still on his face. “Don’t worry about waking me when you come in. I’m sure I’ll go out like a light.” He now touched her face in response, then turned and walked to the stairs.
She was perplexed at his mood tonight. He didn’t seem angry, but at the same time, he wasn’t his normal jovial self. Was he coming down with a cold or a virus, or was this just an excuse to remove himself from her presence, fearful that she might once again attack him in a fit of ardor and passion? She winced at the memory.
Or was he remembering other kisses from the past?
Sara spent an hour or so thumbing through some old travel magazines, but her heart wasn’t in it, and she decided to turn in early herself. The heavy covers felt as oppressing as her mood, and she couldn’t fall asleep. Discreetly, she slipped out of her nightgown as she had done since childhood when sleep wouldn’t come easily. The feeling of clean sheets against her bare body had always helped her to drift off, and she tucked the nightgown under her pillow so it would be within easy reach if she needed to get up in the night.
He turned as she was about to sink into sleep, opened his eyes and looked at her. She could see him in the bright moonlight, as both of them preferred to sleep with the curtains opened to the night sky.
“Sara,” his soft, velvet voice drifted to her ears. “What are you wearing?”
Confused, she suddenly realized that the blanket only covered her body from her breasts on down, her shoulders and back bare.
“Sheets,” she blinked. “I was restless and kept getting tangled in my gown.” She muffled her face in the pillow but knew that he had heard her in the otherwise silent room. “Sorry, I thought you had already fallen asleep,” she whispered.
“Oh, Sara.” He pounded his pillow, sighed, and turned over.
Sometime during the night, he slid under her covers and laid his bare body next to hers, wrapping his arms around her. He buried his face in her hair and slept, as did she.
In the morning he was gone. She didn’t even know he had been there.
Sara awoke and walked down the stairs, then smelled the coffee that remained in the half empty pot. A brief, scribbled note on the kitchen table explained his absence.
“Off to the wars. Enjoy a break from the boss. Have a wonderful time tonight.”
The suit she had hung on the hook in his closet, along with a tie she’d picked out was gone, as were his shiny, polished shoes. He would be at his downtown office, she surmised, preparing for the “wars”.
The restaurant was as stylish and dramatic as had been described by Stuart, the food exotic and delicious. Stuart had all but gushed at Sara’s appearance in her black Grecian dress, a stark contrast to Alex’s short and clipped critique.
Following the sumptuous dinner of lobster bisque and delicately baked swordfish, he had led her to the upstairs room for cocktails and music, but his recent ankle injury had prevented him from any serious dancing, outside of a slow two step to an old melody.
He held her in his arms with grace, and complimented her generously on her dancing ability, the perfume she wore, the color of her hair. Sara was beginning to think that Alex might be right about Stuart’s motives, but feeling no spark of chemistry, other than the easy friendship they had formed, Sara was quite immune to his charm.
“So when did you first realize that you were in love with him?” He completely floored her, as he whispered this gem into her ear, moments before the music ended.
“With?” She moved her head back to look into his eyes.
“Alex, of course,” he chuckled. “He has that wildness of soul that women just can’t resist. Can’t bottle that, or we’d all be drinking the elixir.”
“This again,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. “Stuart, Alex is my employer. We like and respect each other, but I don’t think I’ve given any indication to anyone that my feelings for him are anything more than friendship.” She stepped neatly around his question.
“Ah. I see,” he grinned. “I hope you don’t mind if I have decided to presume otherwise. I suppose it’s not even worth my while to attempt to nurture any relationship with you other than friendship.”
“Well, whatever you’re presuming, it’s a creation of your mind. We’ve been over this before, and I thought that I had adequately explained to you the nature of the relationship between my employer and myself.” She gave him a gentle ‘end of this conversation’ pat on the arm as they walked back to their table, even though the obvious small, white lie hung in the air between them. “But as for the other, Stuart, you know that I’m here on a holiday. Since I will eventually return to my life in America, I’m not really in a position to start up any serious relationships.”
“A very tactful way to say no,” he said, helping her into her chair. “And I do understand. But since we have entered into this very nice friendship, I’d like to extend it to include any advice or assistance you might need once your job with Alex ends. He will be leaving for Switzerland in a week, and you might
desire a friendly and familiar face to talk to from time to time until your holiday ends.”
Quite unexpectedly, hot tears crept into Sara’s eyes. Yes, Alex was leaving, and up until now she hadn’t even thought much past the point of their final goodbye. Next week at this time she would be starting from scratch, sleeping in a different bed, listening to new voices.
“Thank you for that, Stuart,” she choked, sniffing into a tissue she’d extracted from her beaded handbag. “That was a lovely thing to say. You’re a very special guy.” She reached over and covered his hand with hers.
“That’s me, the special guy,” he smiled. “Well, Sara, I’d better get you home before you turn into a pumpkin. I have to leave early in the morning for a film shoot myself. Although I doubt that Prince Charming will be along anytime soon - I’ve just noticed on the telly in the corner that he has won the SIM award, and that means hours of backslapping and celebration.” Pointing to a location far above most of the patron’s heads, Sara did indeed see the familiar face of the man who stood on stage, accepting the gold trophy that was placed in his hands. There was no sound from the set, but his smile was warm and for a split second it appeared as though he was looking directly into her eyes.
She had just crawled under the covers and hadn’t yet extinguished the light at the side of her bed when he appeared in the doorway. He still wore the formal, black suit, but the notch of his black silk tie was pulled down a few inches, the top two buttons of his white shirt undone. His eyes had a glassy shine, and the locks of his silver hair lay wind tossed on his forehead. In his hand, a gold statuette, buffed to a high sheen.
“Oh!” she let out a cry, and clapped her hands together. “How beautiful!”
“Yes.” He continued to stand, statue in hand, a different look in his eyes from the expressions she knew of him, although not unpleasant.
“I saw you, on the television, accepting the award. When you looked into the camera, I was so excited that for a second, I swore you were looking at me,” she bubbled. “I was so happy for you, I was squealing. I almost got thrown out of the restaurant!”
“I was looking at you,” he said in a slow drawl. “You are home early. Wasn’t your date a success?”
“My dinner invitation was lovely,” she answered, brushing off his remark with a flick of her wrist, much more anxious to hear about his evening. “If you insist on calling it a date, so be it. But regardless, no one is going to make it into something it isn’t. But Alex, I wasn’t expecting you here, and not quite midnight. Did you come to change your clothes for the parties? Everything is clean, but there are still some shirts downstairs in the laundry room that need pressing. If you want to wear one of those, I’ll… ”
“Be quiet, Sara.” He set down the statue and moved toward her bed, sitting down next to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her face into his, kissing her cheek and her hair. “This is the only party I want to be at tonight,” he whispered in her ear, his voice husky.
Her spine tingled as she brushed her lips across his slightly stubbled chin. Her breath was suddenly hot, and as her lips touched his, he sprang into a frenzy, removing his jacket, his shirt, stripping off the remainder of his clothing, still kissing her… kissing her…
ȜWe’ll regret this in the morning,” he murmured, his breath quick and shallow.
“Yes. We’ll barely speak.” She lifted her chin so he could nuzzle her neck.
“Barely.” He threw off the covers and spread his long legs over her body, at the same time pulling her nightgown over her head.
“You are my employee. This is so wrong,” he groaned into her ear as he felt her caress his chest.
“Oh, but sir,” she whispered in answer, “I am off duty. This is my time.”
His tongue slid over her lips and invaded her mouth, touching her own. She tasted champagne and dark sweet chocolates.
She reached over and flicked off the lamp, looking at him now swathed in moonlight. His hair glowed silver, and soft white light played around the lines of his face.
He caressed her breasts and laid his cheek between them, stroking each one with his hands, stopping to nibble and taste with his lips and tongue.
She reached down and touched him and heard the sudden sharp intake of his breath. She smiled to herself, her face radiant.
This was the only party they both wanted to be at tonight.
They awoke to the sounds of street traffic, bright, morning light pouring through the window.
He turned and touched her cheek with his lips. “I think I had a dream. Did we…?”
“No,” she grinned, now facing him. “We didn’t. Twice.”
“Oh,” he sighed. “Good thing. Or else we’d be barely speaking this morning.”
“Barely.” She stretched her arms over her head and pulled on her nightgown.
“Oh,” his mouth turned into a pout. “I thought we might… ”
“Pretend not to again? Nope, I’m on the clock now.” She laughed outright at his disappointed face. “My boss will be down shortly for breakfast, and I have a feeling that he is going to be RAVENOUS!”
“Did anyone say biscuits and gravy?” He raised his eyebrow, his smile a mile wide.
“Yes! Give me three more days, and I will turn you into a true southerner.” Sara bounced out of the bed and reached for her robe on the small, upholstered side chair.
“If it’s three more like last night…” he grinned, his tongue bit lightly between his teeth.
His expression tingled through her as though she’d touched a live wire. She bent over and kissed his full lips, then laughed as he pulled her back into the bed, cupping her bottom with two large, warm hands.
“Not before I shower,” she teased, “and feed you.”
“Alright,” he pouted in reply, “but after breakfast, I’m giving you the day off. With benefits,” he mumbled into her ear.
“Mm,” she sighed, licking her lips to taste his kiss, still warm on her mouth.
She turned toward the bathroom, tingling with the anticipation of his promise.
“Sara,” he called her back.
“What now?” she said, giving him a scolding look. “Do you want me to get fired?”
“Your red dress.”
“What about it?” she asked, suddenly curious.
“Tonight is for us - Our celebration that I promised you. I’d like you to wear the red dress.” His wink was as lascivious as his grin.
“You got it,” she answered, with a look of her own.
Their peaceful morning was short lived as she heard the telephone ringing without pause in the study from the top of the stairs. The SIM awards no doubt would be the talk of the entertainment world today and with a twinge of regret, she realized that despite their well laid plans, they would have little time this week to call their own. It was a hard fact to face considering that Sara’s employment with him was nearly over. Only three days now left until Myrtle was scheduled to return, five before he would be leaving for Switzerland to continue his film shoot. His obligations to the world would no doubt eat up most of the three days.
Never mind, she reminded herself. That still leaves two nights. A rush of butterflies filled her belly. Two nights to call our own.
“Sara,” he said, out of breath as he bustled into the kitchen where the biscuit dough stood ready to go into the oven. “With all my heart, I wish I could stay here and eat breakfast with you and drink coffee next to the fireplace for hours… and other things…” his voice dropped, suggestively, “but I’ve just gotten off the phone with a hot shot from Hollywood who is next to impossible to corral, and I have to meet with him in ten minutes in my office.” He stood, hair still wet from his shower, buttoning his shirt and at the same time slipping into his shoes. “If there was any way I could postpone this meeting… “
“No problem! I’ll save the batter. It will be good to go for tomorrow.” She shrugged and gave him a pleasant smile, trying not to show her disappointment.
&
nbsp; “And don’t worry; I’ve switched the phone to ring over to my office so you won’t have to deal with those people today. It’s bound to be crazy. Don’t talk to any journalists if they manage to scale the fence. Just shoot ‘em and we’ll sort it out later,” he grinned. “I’m really sorry, Sara, this wasn’t how…”
“No, go… go!” She laughed, and tucked a banana into his pocket. “Eat that in the car. And don’t forget your umbrella.” She looked out the window where dark, heavy rain clouds were now gathering to cover the one tiny remaining patch of blue.
The morning went by in a whirl as Sara began to organize the packing for both her trip and his. Most of his things were already in Switzerland, but she had purchased some additional sweaters and pants for him while shopping in London, the weather man predicting much colder weather for Switzerland in the coming weeks. She had added a bit more color to his wardrobe, wines and blues to compliment his silver hair. She often wondered why he didn’t wear more blue, since the color was suited to his face. He still retained a good amount of the dark hair of his younger days, but as was common to some men, the silver streaks framing his face and temples only made him more handsome, somewhat softening the harder lines of his strongly masculine profile.
She had pressed the wine colored dress that he had requested for their special evening and she wondered what kind of plans he had made. A shiver of excitement tickled her spine at the thought, and she stretched her arms high in the air in anticipation.
The house was as clean and organized as it could be and there were no new projects to start with her limited tenure, so she spent most of her time standing at the window, watching the rain patter against the pane and thinking about their night together.
He had been the most amazing lover; gentle and considerate, passionate and exciting, serious and silly at the same time - the essence of man and boy child in one body. He had made love to her in a semi-frenzy, both of them impatient and eager for each other. She had slept, satiated with his kisses, and then awakened to see him lying next to her, eyes open, smiling in the moonlit room. She had buried her face into his neck, feeling the scratchiness of the stubble on his face, breathing in the air that he exhaled. Now they had taken their time, whispering words of fun and silliness and sweetness, discovering one the other with childlike joy, making vows and promises and plans for future days and nights that lay ahead.
Don't Tell the Moon Page 8
