Kelly glanced around, then back at him. and when he didn't produce immediate answers, she started ambling around. The more Ms. Curious poked and prodded, the more confused she appeared. Apart from a full downstairs bathroom, done in a ghastly shade of pink, the downstairs held two more rooms- one long, narrow family room, and the other a medium-sized den. where she paused in the doorway.
The den had ceiling-to-floor bookcases and a corner fireplace. Dusty, long drapes fell to the floor.
"There's no furniture in this place," Kelly said bewilderedly.
"I know."
"Except that I smell food in the oven."
"Yup, you're right again."
When she looked back into the den, it had to be pretty obvious where they were eating. On the carpet. He'd been here ahead, of course, set up an old blue blanket, opened the merlot to let it breathe, absconded with major-size pillows from his sister's place and a tray of vanilla candles. Late-afternoon sun was still filtering the west windows for now, though, making candlelight a little premature.
"Okay," she said. "Cut out the suspense. You know I can't stand it. You said an economics professor used to live here. But who does now?"
"You do. If you want."
"Huh?'
There. The look of stunned surprise was worth all the running around he'd done to put this together- and of course, this was just the first part of the evening, and not the end of the surprises. But it was a pretty good zinger for an opener, if he said so himself.
Dinner wasn't too challenging. Wine. Strawberries dipped in cream cheese and brown sugar. Fresh bread, just baked. A crab salad and some sushi and other delicacies he knew she liked, followed by a complete tray of desserts. It wasn't exactly his kind of meal, but when he'd called his favorite restaurant to cater, he was thinking of what worked for her. Chocolate. French pastries. The ease of bread and fruit and all, where they wouldn't need knives and spoons, so much, just an occasional fork.
By the time he had her shoes off-which didn't take long-she was sitting cross-legged on the blanket, the silky yellow dress bunched between her legs for modesty. She was still trying to absorb what he'd told her, but it was uphill getting her to accept this particular gift.
"Maguire's owns the house. Actually, the family owns a fair amount of real estate around the university. Anyway, the economics professor who lived here got a divorce, moved away in the middle of the semester. That left us stranded in more ways than one. You'd be doing me a favor if you lived here."
"In a pig's eye," she said. "A favor is when you need to borrow a cup of sugar. Or a ride to the airport. It's not giving someone a place to live."
"No. no, this is for me. Not you. See…the guy had the place forever, so some things need updating before it's rentable again. Like…the wood floors need sanding and varnishing. The downstairs bathroom needs somebody to pick out a different color and do something with it. Several appliances need an upgrade. Almost all the rooms need fresh paint."
"Will, I'm not exactly sure where you're going with this, but I'm way, way smarter than I look. You're not going to sell me roses in the desert."
"Would you listen?' He put some petulance in his voice as he stacked the dishes on the tray and poured her more wine. Her second glass.
"I am listening, but I'm not a charity case, buster."
"I keep telling you, this is a favor to me. It's one of my dad's messes. There's more to Maguire's than just the manufacturing facilities. The company has real estate. Houses and office buildings, and other holdings beyond that. And the thing is, to get this place ready to rent-or sell-someone has to oversee the renovations. Make the choices about paint and colors and crap like that. Report if the workmen aren't up to snuff. I can't be ten places at once."
"Your sisters could do it. Or your mother."
This was a lot trickier than he thought it was going to be. "Yes. They could. But their taste is in their creditcards, if you know what I mean. They'll spend more than the house is worth. I need someone to look at the house, update where it needs updating, choose what makes sense for the place. Someone like you. And in the meantime-" he raised his voice, because he could see she was about to make another protest"-you could live in the place. It'd be disruptive, but it'd be all yours. That way, you'd get out of that wreck you're in. It's still close to your job. It's a good neighborhood. And…"
He popped the last strawberry in her mouth just to keep her quiet for a moment longer.
"And, when you come to Paris with me, when we have all our messes straightened out-which, I admit, is taking a tad longer than I expected-it'll be easy for you to get out. Besides which-"
"I didn't realize you had this whole con-artist side to your character," she said darkly.
"This isn't con-artist stuff. If you like the house, you could either rent it or buy it when all the reno's done. Say, September. So see? You're not tied to any decision whatsoever. You have all your freedom, all your choices. And I get somebody supervising the update on the place. Everybody wins."
She hesitated. Then hesitated some more, searching his face, obviously thinking hard. "There's something wrong about this deal. I just can't figure out what it is."
"God, you're suspicious. Of course, maybe you don't like the house."
"Of course I like the house! It's adorable! Two fireplaces and this great den and a blue-and-white kitchen? What's not to love!"
"You haven't seen the upstairs. Look…" He did his best to sound apologetic. "I realize it'll be a lot of trouble. A lot of dust. Workmen in and out. A bunch of crappy shopping, picking out colors and appliances and that tedious stuff-"
Possibly he'd laid it on a little thick, because she pounced. "Quit trying to be so damned nice or I'm going to smack you," she warned him. Only then she really did pounce, in a flurry of yellow silk and wine-wet lips. He'd been sitting there, with one knee up, but when she hurled herself at him. he fell back onto the picnic blanket.
All right, all right, so maybe he could have kept his balance. It wasn't as if she was remotely heavy. But she leveled him with a kiss. Her landing on top of him was ideal, after all. And in seconds, they were all tangled up, her bare legs tucked around him. the yellow dress dipping beautifully at the bodice, revealing the bare rounded breasts he'd been so close to seeing before.
It had been a long time since they'd made love.
Too long.
He needed to keep his head a little longer, and he gulped for oxygen before he was completely sucked into that taste, that texture, that look in her eyes. "You forgot underwear," he told her.
"It was a choice," she assured him.
"What happened to sin and guilt and all?"
"There's a time for that. And a time for no underwear," she explained. "Were you objecting?"
"No." He cleared his throat. "Definitely no. But-"
Sprawled on his chest, her elbows digging into his shoulders, rubbing against him with deliberate, manipulative, disgraceful invitation, she was obviously determined to destroy him. "If there's any 'but.' that's it. I'll get up and put on some good-girl underpants and a nice, thick, wired-up padded bra."
"No. Please. No." He got it, that she was enjoying torturing him. But he couldn't take much more teasing. "I need to do something."
"I know," she said smugly.
"Something first."
She was still smiling, but it was that bad-Kelly smile. It was a smile he didn't trust, couldn't trust. An unpredictable, worrisome, adorable smile and, damn, but he loved Kel when she was feeling full of herself and high on being a woman.
He fumbled, fast as he could make his thick fingers work, and finally yanked the blindfold from his back pocket and whipped it over her eyes.
"What's this?"
He didn't answer directly, because she had to know perfectly well what it was. "I figured a silk scarf wouldn't hold for long. Or else you could peek. So I needed a real-life blackout blindfold, which was harder to find than I could believe. But just so you know-this is not for fun."
"Sure it's n-"
Her tone was teasing again, as if she assumed he was handing her nonsense. So he kissed her.
Only this time, he kissed her differently than before. He closed his eyes, because he wanted to be immersed in her, wanted to be blind to everything but her. aware of only the world between them, the world where only their senses alone communicated to each other.
He eased her back down to the blanket, taking her lips, skimming his tongue inside, offering a soft, dark, openmouthed kiss that silenced her. And him.
Her hair had started tumbling from its updo, loosened when he put on the blindfold, and loosened more now when he threaded a hand through those silky strands, just because it felt good. Good the way touching Kelly, any way, anyhow, always felt.
Her heartbeat quickened when he shifted, sliding a hand from her head to her bare throat, down to the loose drape of fabric at her neck. That damn dress was soft, but not as soft as her skin. Nothing was as soft as the swell of her breast. One stroke, and the tip pebbled for him. One stroke, and he was harder than stone. Hot stone.
Somehow he didn't think he'd be able to talk for long.
"Kel?"
"Hmm. I think we have an awful lot of clothes on."
"Yeah,. I'm about to take care of that. In two seconds. But I need to tell you something." He tried talking again and found his vocal cords malfunctioning. A guy had priorities. Obviously before trying to complete the conversation, no matter how critically important it was, he wasn't going to be able to concentrate until he'd taken care of other pressing business first. So easily, smoothly, he shifted her to a semisitting position so he could pull that sweet wisp of yellow silk over her head.
She wasn't wearing anything underneath.
He'd guessed that from before. And she'd admitted it. But it was another thing to actually find her body completely naked, her breasts already swollen tight, her skin flushed with warmth. Her breath was so quick…for him. Her body hot…for him.
"Kel, the thing is. I didn't know you were going to show up with no underwear."
"Good. Surprises are good."
"Yes. But I'm just saying I thought I'd have to do the seducing."
"You do. Go to work, boy."
He smiled, kissed her again, but he wasn't suck-ering into that wicked mouth of hers quite yet. "I will, I will. But I want you to know that I specifically picked this house because you'd never seen it before. And I wanted you to wear the blindfold so everything else would be unfamiliar, too."
She stopped stroking him. as if finally hearing the seriousness in his voice. Her palm touched his neck, then his chin, then his cheek, reading him like Braille, studying his expression through texture. "Why?" she murmured. "Why did you want everything to be unfamiliar to me?"
"Because you've been so worried. About all the unfamiliar things in your life. Discovering you had a father. Discovering the beliefs you grew up with were partly lies. Discovering that you felt different- about yourself-since Paris."
"Yes," she whispered.
"And because of all that, you've felt really thrown. As if you didn't know who you were anymore."
"Yes," she whispered again, sounding fierce, sounding grateful that he'd listened to her and really heard her.
"Well, this was the point of the blindfold and the unfamiliar place, Kel. No matter what's unfamiliar to you, no matter what's throwing you, I'm here. And I know who you are." In moments, he'd pushed off the slacks, unshackled the buttons of his blue dress shirt.
"Who you are," he said, "is my lover. Just like I'm your lover. And this is the thing." He took a long, slow breath. "I love you, Kelly. I want you. All of you. Whoever you are, whoever you were. I love the before and after. I love the during. I love the everything about you."
She ripped off the blindfold and faced him with fierce eyes. Just like that, there was a power shift. He'd tried to direct this whole thing, for her. because he believed she needed to hear not just that he loved her, but that he loved all the incarnations and reinventions of Kelly Nicole Rochard.
Even when she was aggravating the hell out of him. he loved her. She was suddenly winding around him. The seducee turned seducer. The cherishee became the cherisher.
Soft hands stroked him closer. Dark eyes took him in. looking at him-at his face, at his nakedness, at his erection, at all of him. "You are," she murmured, "everything I ever dreamed of in a lover."
Well, hell times three. If she expected him to have any self-control after that, she was dreaming.
But then she didn't seem to have any self-control after that, either. She loved his body as if she owned it, as if she'd never met an inhibition.
An hour later, an eternity later, he lay on the blanket. Kelly curled naked next to him. She'd dozed off like a baby-her own fault, for turning making love into a marathon. He was just as whipped, just as wiped. But he couldn't erase the smile off his face. Didn't want to give in to sleep.
Will didn't care what was rational or irrational, what the world thought or didn't think.
He knew, in his gut, that everything in his world was right as long as Kelly was with him.
Nothing could stop him when they were together.
They could go anywhere, be anything, do anything. He'd gone into this night with Kelly, knowing his dad wasn't going to be laid up forever-knowing that his chances of being able to stay here were steadily deteriorating.
But he had to believe Kelly valued who they were together. She'd come to see it his way-that it didn't matter where they were, as long as they were together.
And for the first time in years-maybe in his whole life-he really believed that things were going to turn out okay. They'd go to Paris. Be together. The rest didn't matter, it would sort itself out.
"Will," Kelly murmured.
"Hmm?"
"Go to sleep."
All it took was her permission. He draped his arm and the blanket over her, then dropped off into deep sleep.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
What was with this Tuesday? Kelly put down the phone in her office, stared at it for one long dark second and warned the device. "If you ring one more time in the next half hour, I'm going to throw you against the wall."
It immediately rang.
"Yes," she barked into the receiver. "This is Kelly Rochard."
It was the construction guy she'd contacted-one of three construction companies who were giving her estimates. She couldn't very well not take the call. She had to hear the price, their terms, get their schedules, their references.
She'd just hung up when Brenna showed up at the door. "There's someone in the lobby who-"
Her phone rang before she could answer Brenna. Her coworker threw up her hands and gestured that she'd track her down later. Good thing. This call was from a painter, who was prepared to come in and start the job as soon as this weekend.
Only Kelly couldn't start that quickly. She had to pick out new counters for the bathroom first. And she was a long way from settling on colors.
"But I thought you wanted it done fast, and I got an opening-"
"I do, I do, and I'm grateful you could squeeze me in." Her mom had given her the reference, so she knew the painter was trustworthy. Only holy kamoly, did everything have to hit on Tuesday morning?
She finished the call and pointed the royal finger at the phone.
It didn't help. It rang again.
"My heavens, I've been trying to get you all morning." her mom said. "I'm sorry to call you at work, honey."
"That's okay." It was. Somehow just airing all the old history about Henri Rochard had brought her closer to her mom. For all the turmoil, all the worrying that her relationship with her mother would be scarred in some way, the opposite seemed to be true.
"Well. I needed to know for sure if you could come early on Saturday. They're claiming this block party is for me, but you know how it really goes. Everybody helps set up, and I'm stuck working late on Friday-"
"I'll be there by nine-thirty. Is t
hat early enough? You want me to bring anything?"
"Nope, just yourself. And the time's perfect. Thanks, sweets."
The phone rang again almost as soon as she hung it up. but this time she ignored it. She had to get some real work done, and that included the project she was doing for Will. The hunt for John Henry, his mystery employee, hadn't required tons of time, but she wanted the job completed faster than yesterday.
Brenna showed up in the doorway again, but before she could say a word. Kelly said firmly. "There isn't a client I haven't spoken to this morning who should need me for anything. I just need a few minutes without interruptions!"
"But-"
"Five! Just five whole minutes! Hold the calls!"
She turned back to the computer. It bugged her, the house Will had thrown so generously in her lap. In fact, a lot of things had been bothering her since the weekend.
Will was a darling. He couldn't help that. But it troubled her that she hadn't been pulling her weight. No. she didn't have money like he did. But he'd asked for help, tracking down his employee, and that was one thing she should have been able to do for him.
Will's father was going to be on his feet in another week or so. At that point, Kelly knew perfectly well it was time to sink or swim.
Go with Will to Paris.
Or stay here.
"No," she muttered to herself. "You're not going to think about that now. You're going to…" She narrowed her eyes at the figures popping up on the screen.
She'd become an expert at locating people who didn't want to be found, but people living right out in the open were notoriously harder to trace. They actively and regularly covered their tracks and all their personal histories. Real people, of course, didn't have blank spots of years. When someone had a blank spot, they'd been somewhere and done something.
Like John Henry. A blank spot of five and a half years, to be precise.
Blame It On Paris Page 21
