Call it Love

by Kress, Alyssa

"What? Oh. Yes, actually."

  She looked nervous but trying not to show it. Just like a real bride, Chess thought, pleased. A real bride for her first time.

  "I like the smell of the woods," he added.

  A smile brushed her full lips. "Then I don't know why you insisted on this fancy trip to Hawaii. We could have made just as good an impression and saved a bunch of money by going to some motel up in Napa."

  "It wasn't that much more money," Chess remonstrated. "Besides, I wanted to get you away." He straightened from his position leaning on the suitcase and walked toward her. "I wanted to get us both far, far away."

  She looked up at him with eyes that were very dark, questioning, and still nervous.

  He lifted his hand and pulled a bobby pin from the complicated arrangement caging her coffee-colored tresses. It was something he'd been wanting to do for hours. "Real life," Chess explained. "I wanted to get us both far away from real life."

  He pulled out another pin and then brushed his hand down the curve of her cheek. His voice became unaccountably hoarse as he explained. "I thought if we got far enough away, we might try a hand at some make-believe."

  Her eyes were shiny as she laid her own hand over his at her neck. "I'm not sure how good I am at that."

  Joyous laughter lodged in his throat. "I'll show you," he promised and lowered his head.

  He kept the kiss light, almost casual. They were miles from anyone or anything that could stop them. He could afford to take his time.

  She shuddered in his arms. "No, Chess. Really." Her lashes were dark against her cheeks: a picture of modesty.

  "No, Cookie," he corrected. "Make-believe." He kissed her again, this time like he meant it.

  She made a small sound against his mouth and then surrendered. Dear God, what a surrender. Shy to sultry with the grace of a dance.

  Breathing heavily, he pulled back. It occurred to him that it might be difficult to maintain control here. Perhaps that was part of her appeal. She could drive him right to the edge. Almost, but not quite over. He never went over.

  Proving it, he didn't kiss her again. Instead, he smiled down at her. "You smell very good." Meanwhile, blood roared in his ears.

  "And you taste good." She said this as though mightily surprised by the phenomenon. With a look of deep concentration, she lifted a finger and cautiously brushed the tip of it over his lips. There was an expression of wonder in her eyes.

  A brief, unpleasant thought struck Chess. Only a consummate courtesan could bring off the innocent act as well as Cookie was doing. She had the savoir-faire to make Chess feel like he was the only one, her first, a conqueror.

  "You feel good, too," he said, dismissing the ugly suspicion. She did feel good, too good to waste effort worrying about where she'd learned her sexual prowess. The hands he had around her waist went down the clinging knit of her dress and finally curved over her lush derriere. A sound of admiration came out of his throat at the same time that she jumped against him.

  He chuckled. "Sorry. Didn't mean to surprise you."

  She opened her mouth, but whatever she'd been about to say was lost as he kissed her again.

  He couldn't help it. She was absolutely irresistible.

  "Chess." His name came on a gasping sigh as she tore her mouth from his. "Chess. Wait. Listen."

  He stopped. There was a tone of panic in her voice that was impossible to ignore.

  "Chess." Swallowing, she pushed his hands down, away from her. "This is— I mean, I have to explain something."

  His heart went cold. In an instant, the long trail of her past lovers swept into the room with them. "No." He put his fingers against her mouth. It was reflex, an act of pure self-preservation. "No, Cookie, this is make-believe, just like I said."

  Her eyes were questioning.

  "I mean it. Man and woman. Wedding night. That's us. Nothing else. No past, just today. Just now." He was desperate she understand this.

  She put her hand on his wrist and drew his fingers down from her mouth. "You mean, like this is m-my first time?" Her midnight eyes filled with a cautious hope.

  Chess nodded, ready to weep he was so relieved. He drew a thumb down the line of her jaw. "The first time for both of us."

  Something trembled in her eyes. "You promise?"

  "Yes. God, yes." He pulled her toward him for another kiss—he was starving for her, but she stopped him again with a finger against his lips.

  "I—" she faltered. "I— Um, I have to—"

  An indulgent smile crept over his mouth. "You want to use the bathroom first."

  With her skin going pink, she nodded.

  Reluctantly, Chess let her go. It was unfortunate that she needed to interrupt things with a trip to the bathroom, but in keeping with his promise, he'd treat her like a virgin. "All right, then," he said. "But hurry—and Cookie?"

  She halted with her hand on her small overnight case—the one she'd brought in addition to the huge suitcase. Her eyes were wide and dark as she looked at him.

  "I want you to know I'm healthy—clean. I assume you are, too?"

  With her eyes still wide, she nodded.

  "Good. Still, don't worry about birth control. I'll take care of it."

  He hadn't imagined those eyes could get any bigger.

  ~~~

  After closing the bathroom door against him, Cookie leaned against it, her whole body trembling. Oh, he'd take care of it, would he? She was beginning to think there wasn't anything that man couldn't take care of.

  The past twenty minutes had been a revelation, utterly unexpected. She'd liked a man's touch.

  For the first time, she genuinely considered that this might work.

  Chess wasn't like Ted or her actor friend. Not by a long shot. For one thing, she cared about him. And for another, he was so much more competent. He could make her respond like she'd never dreamed she could respond.

  So maybe if he stayed gentle and patient, maybe if he actually treated her like a virgin, this could work. The very idea that she might be healed filled her with such joy that she could barely move.

  Of course, she could be wrong.

  Indeed, a voice whispered in the background and reminded Cookie she had planned to tell Chess the truth.

  But if she did that, she'd pull the plug on everything. Instead of a night of magic, it would become a night of Chess pulling one humiliating memory after another from her. He'd learn the long and shameful history of her deceit. In particular, he'd learn how badly she'd deceived him over the past three days since he'd proposed they turn the relationship physical, and she hadn't bothered to inform him that wouldn't be possible.

  No, anything would be better than that.

  Her fingers were trembling as she set down her overnight case and stripped off her clothes. In a fit of foolish optimism, she'd bought a slinky silver nightgown. She pulled it over her head now, letting the satin wrap around her curves. Thank God she didn't have to worry about putting in the diaphragm she'd obtained the day before. Her hands were shaking too much to have gotten it in correctly.

  She paused before opening the bathroom door. Closing her eyes, she put in mind the magic of Chess's kiss a few minutes earlier. It had been like sun-kissed honey sliding down her throat. Oh, yes, this definitely could work. It would work. With a big breath, she opened her eyes again and pushed out the door.

  All the lights in the room had been turned off except for the one in the hall next to the front door. Chess was sitting up in one of the beds. The sheets covered his upraised knees, upon which his forearms rested. Judging by his naked chest and shoulders, he was probably just as naked underneath the sheet. His eyes were nothing but a gleam in pools of darkness.

  "Rebecca." His voice was so deep she could barely hear it. "I've been waiting three weeks for this, maybe all my life. Come here."

  She came.

  The muscles over his shoulders fascinated her, the way the light played shadows over that strength. And his eyes—well his eyes were positively ra
venous. As she walked forward, his gaze dropped from her face and roved lingeringly downward.

  "God," he whispered.

  That was when she faltered. His desire was so strong that she knew she'd never be able to live up to it. She stopped, trembling.

  Okay, she knew how to handle this, how to keep the shaking inside, out of sight. She was an actress, wasn't she? She took a deep breath and put his kiss in her mind. Honey and sunshine.

  "Closer," Chess said.

  She sat on the edge of the bed.

  She was so close she could feel the heat from his naked body. His gaze was just as hot. Demanding. Expecting.

  She had to turn her head from it. Unfortunately, that put her gaze toward the night table. Three square packages rested thereon. Three of them!

  As she swallowed, her stomach rolled. "Um, Chess?"

  "Rebecca."

  He put a hand on her chin, drawing her face toward his and away from the condoms. His hand was big and strong and, God, so was the rest of him.

  Too big and strong. She'd be helpless underneath him, just like that day in the hideout between the apartment buildings.

  He kissed her.

  No longer did he taste like sweet honey. No, now she could sense his demand, the rough, possessive heat. She could feel the strength of the muscles beneath her palm on his chest. He was much too strong, too powerful.

  She closed her eyes as he fell back, pulling her on top of him. Panic filled her throat. Every inch of his body was hard and male and far more powerful than her own.

  With a desperate utterance, he rolled her off and himself on top of her.

  A hundred times worse. Now she was trapped beneath his weight, just like in the hideout. And just like that night she'd gone home with Ted, the man above her took advantage of her helpless position with his hands.

  If her mind had been working, she would have realized that Chess wasn't going to hurt her. In fact, all she had to do was tell him to stop, and he would.

  But her mind wasn't working and neither was her voice. All she could do was tense against the onslaught and hope to endure until it was over.

  Chess put his mouth against her neck, wet and hot. His hand closed over her breast through the silky nightgown.

  In reflex, Cookie stiffened and gritted her teeth.

  Abruptly, Chess stopped. He froze where he was, with his lips against her neck and his hand on her breast. A beat of time went by.

  Then he moved his hand from her breast to the mattress. Bracing his weight there, he half rose and looked down at her. There was a deep crease between his brows. "Cookie, what's going on?" There was no tenderness in his voice now. It was a stern demand.

  Cookie was shaking worse than ever, frightened now that he was angry on top of everything else. But all the shaking was inside, the way she'd learned, so that no one would know she was scared.

  She'd been wrong. She was just as bad at this now as she'd been twelve years ago, the last time she'd tried.

  She opened her mouth, but her throat was too tight to speak. She closed it again while her stomach shook right into a painful knot.

  Chess's eyes widened. "Go," he said. He pushed all the way off of her and gave her a none-too-gentle shove. "Go!"

  Cookie went. She scrambled off the bed and ran for the bathroom. The door closed behind her just in time.

  ~~~

  Kate hadn't realized how hard it was going to be to run Scents Allure, even for a few days, without Chess. It made her admit how much she'd come to depend on him. In fact, his utility in her professional life had become so entrenched one could suspect he'd done it on purpose.

  It was with a definite sense of relief, then, and well-deserved reward that Kate stopped in at the Atelier for a drink on her way home from a nerve-wracking day at the plant.

  "Good to see you again, Mrs. Thibideaux," the distinguished host greeted her at the door. "It's been a while."

  "Why, yes, I suppose it has," Kate agreed. Coming to the quiet and elegant bar on the way home had once been a habit. Several times a week, Kate would meet David here and they'd unwind together, discussing the events of their various days.

  Maybe she'd come here this evening to remember him, Kate thought, following her host as he led her under the crystal chandeliers. It had been lonely during these last few days since Chess's wedding. Alex was out most of the time with friends and, though Chess hardly spent time with her outside of work, she still felt his absence while he was away on his honeymoon. Kate was very aware of the difference in the way she treated her two sons, but in actuality, she felt deep love for both of them.

  "Dry sherry, please," she told the waiter, who hovered by the booth. She began to shrug out of the coat that she'd needed for a typically cool day in San Francisco, but a sight at the other end of the room made her stop, one sleeve off, the other still on.

  At the polished counter on the opposite side of the room, a huskily built man rose from his seat. His gaze focused on her with intensity. Then he started toward her.

  No, Kate thought. No, no.

  He approached her all the same. "May I help you with that?" He set his drink on her table and reached to help her remove her coat the rest of the way.

  "You shouldn't be here," Kate muttered.

  "Why not?" Bernard Korman queried. "We met by chance and now, two colleagues in the same business, we've decided to sit and chat."

  Kate watched helplessly as he took a seat opposite her in the plush booth. "Exactly what are we supposed to chat about?" she asked acidly as she decided she'd better sit, too.

  "Oh, let's see." Bernard played with the stirrer in his drink. Kate knew it was a vodka tonic. "We could talk about business. How's business?"

  Kate narrowed her eyes. "You know very well how business is."

  Bernard's lips raised into a slight smile. "I have a pretty good idea. But Chess is taking care of that, isn't he? He has his own ideas on how to pull yourselves out of the hole I made."

  Cold gripped Kate inside. "You know his plans?"

  Bernard's smile grew. "He told me himself. He's launching a new perfume. According to Chess, it's going to wipe anything I have off the shelves by Christmas." There was a trace of pride along with the amusement in Bernard's voice.

  "He told you himself." Kate's voice hardened considerably. "When did you see him?"

  Bernard put his glass down. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Kate. We ran into each other at the dry cleaner. That happens."

  "You agreed," Kate said from between clenched teeth. "And I paid you."

  "Yes." Bernard looked at her. His eyes managed to look sad. "You paid me."

  "What do you intend to do now? Are you going to ruin the launch?"

  The sadness in Bernard's eyes only grew. "Do I have to? Hasn't this feud gone on long enough? I don't know about you, but I'm tired of it. I'm tired of the past. I want to put it behind us."

  Kate's eyes widened. "You can't."

  "No," Bernard corrected. "You can't. You refuse to let go, to forgive me."

  Kate looked away. "We made an agreement. We left each other on even, equal terms. There's nothing to forgive."

  She heard him heave a deep sigh. "Hardly even, and we both knew it at the time, young as we were."

  Kate couldn't look at him. Her hands clutched the cocktail napkin in front of her, crushing it. Deep in her heart, she knew that he was right. The bargain hadn't been even, but she'd fight to the death to protect what she'd gotten out of it.

  "Kate." His voice was soft despite its natural gruffness. It had gotten deeper, Kate noted. "Kate, we're both older now. Can't we behave with a little more intelligence?"

  Her fingernails tore through the cocktail napkin. "I'm not going to give him to you."

  Bernard's expression hardened. "You can't 'give' me something that already belongs to me."

  "He doesn't! We made an agreement."

  "That was nearly forty years ago," Bernard countered, as though the passage of time should have any bearing on their agreeme
nt. "My wife is long dead, and now so is your husband."

  "What difference does that make?"

  But Bernard paid no heed to her as he stood up from the booth. His expression was implacable. He clearly believed that he was right, and she was wrong. "It's time, Kate. Past time. Either you're going to do it voluntarily, or I'm going to find some way to make you do it. But it's going to happen. I've waited long enough."

  He put both hands on the table and leaned over it, glaring at her with those sea-green eyes of his. "It's time you tell Chess that I'm his father."

  The waiter came with Kate's sherry just as Bernard walked away and out the door.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  As he came down the jetway off the airplane, Chess saw Ruth Coldwell at once, a fashionable blue raincoat hanging off her thin shoulders. Then he saw the cadre of men with cameras surrounding her.

  "Damn!" Chess muttered.

  At the same time, equally surprised, Cookie tripped on the carpet of the ramp ahead of him.

  His arm snaked out to catch her. It was an act of instinct, not premeditated thought. If he'd thought about the matter, he wouldn't have dared touch the woman. As it was, he suddenly found her softness caught up against his hip. Her face turned up to him, flushed with surprise.

  Lights flashed around them. Bulbs popped.

  Chess let go of Cookie as though he'd been burned. Well, he had been burned, but nobody was going to know it—least of all Ruth with her busybody photographers.

  "What is going on?" Cookie gazed at the group even while easing away from Chess's hold of her.

  Immediate anger rose inside of him at her retreat. But he tamped it down, exactly as he'd been tamping it down ever since his miserable wedding night. He was not going to feel about this; he wasn't going to give her that kind of power. "It's just Ruth, getting ahead of herself. Come on."

  Letting Cookie follow, Chess stormed toward Ruth, who stood her ground behind a metal rail.

  A dry, triumphant smile sat upon her face.

  "What do you think you're doing?" Chess growled, though he knew very well.

  Ruth had already told him about sending her photo from the wedding to the newspapers. It was great free publicity, she'd told him over the phone. And that new wife of his was photogenic, to put it mildly, sizzling with sex appeal. Why, Cookie even made Chess look good.