by Theresa Weir
She was transported into the fantasy by the ease in which Drew swept her around the dance floor, the poignant music, and the way he held her against him.
The music wound down to the last chord and people applauded. Brooke glanced toward the orchestra. When she turned back around, the Phantom was gone. All the desire she’d felt the other night was back and bottled up inside her. Frustrated at her own inability to resist his temptation, she wandered back to her table, sure he’d show up.
But as the minutes passed, no Drew. Maybe it wasn’t him after all, and it was just wistful dreaming. A ghost asked her to dance, but Brooke found she could hardly focus on him. She was too intent on finding that elusive Phantom costume. She caught glimpses of him out of the corner of her eye, only to have him vanish among the dancers when she turned to look more fully. And when she tried to follow, he had disappeared completely.
Back at the table, she nibbled on some of the gourmet food, but without interest. Again, she was asked to dance, but it wasn’t him. Again, she saw him weaving in and out of the dance floor, and, frustrated beyond bearing, she left her dance partner in the middle of the song to pursue her Phantom, but again, he proved too elusive.
Close to midnight she finally gave up and decided to go home. She reached forward and plucked one of the bright sunflowers out of the orange, black and yellow table display, tucking it into her basket/purse next to Toto. But before she could leave her seat, warm hands settled on her shoulders. Words, spoken in a husky baritone, tickled in her ear. “Did you miss me?”
Fire ignited and sizzled through her blood. She turned toward him, and he took her hand again, his eyes full of such intense desire that it shocked her into breathless silence. What started off as a silly game had become something intensely real.
“Brooke, I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said softly as he whirled her out to the dance floor. “This might have started with the lawsuit, but it’s gone beyond that.”
Brooke was suddenly speechless, dizzy, but she was drawing in a breath to say something when the spooky music stopped abruptly and the lights went out. And Drew was no longer holding her.
When the lights came up, candy showered down around her, but once again, her Phantom had disappeared.
* * *
Drew stood in the shadows watching Brooke collect her coat and trail out of the hotel. That kiss haunted him, her mouth against his, the feel of her hands clinging to him, his feverish longing to have them touch him everywhere. He took a deep breath, calling himself a complete cad. He knew who he was. He knew what he wanted.
As he passed the table, he snatched up a sunflower. How had this whole situation turned inside out? He wanted what she offered, the sweetness, the compassion. He wanted to let his desire to take her, to bury himself into her softness, out of its cage to run wild. She was the kind of woman that would want her man to be home for dinner so she could nurture him, feed his soul every day. But he wasn’t that guy. He worked sixty or more hours a week. He was driven by the need to keep up with the life he’d fostered and which now shackled him. He was but a phantom of himself.
He left the hotel and hailed a cab. He gave his home address to the cabbie and sat back, brooding. When the glare of headlights made him glance in the rearview mirror, he saw his eyes through the mask, and was shocked to see that he actually looked like the tortured and crazed Erik, as though the costume had taken on a life of its own.
How ironic. He’d picked this costume for its aura of danger, for the mystery and the air of tragedy that surrounded the Phantom. But the white mask that covered his face shrouded his true intentions. Brooke didn’t know the real him. And now Drew wasn’t sure he knew him, either.
“Never mind,” he said aloud, and gave the cabbie a different address. When he checked the mirror again, that look he’d seen hadn’t changed. Only intensified.
* * *
Brooke set down the Toto basket on the bench in the foyer and knelt down to scratch Roscoe behind the ears. Tears sat in the back of her throat, unshed. The man had accomplished his task. She was hooked.
Her body ached more than she could ever remember. It had been a bit since her last boyfriend, sure, but never had a man stirred her to this fever of desire.
But. This was Halloween, and costumes were nothing but fantasy, fun for one night only, she reminded herself sternly. And, what a tempting time it had been. But it was over. Drew was gone, although she sensed he had been sincere when he told her he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
A knock sounded on the door and Roscoe woofed at the unexpected sound. She shushed him, her heart beating hard in her chest.
When she opened the door, Drew stood there, still dressed as the Phantom, the mask still in place, but with a sunflower in his hand.
“I thought you weren’t coming.”
He presented the flower and stepped inside. “I didn’t think I was. The truth is I care more about you than I do the damn, ridiculous lawsuit. It’s my job, and I’m dedicated to it, but that’s nothing compared to you.” He grabbed her upper arms and drew her towards him. “It seems like nothing right now. If we take this step, it’ll get complicated, Brooke. Really complicated.”
She reached around him to shut the door, dropped the sunflower in the nearby basket, and turned back to Drew.
“I don’t care.” She lifted her hand to his face, cupping his cheek. He closed his eyes as she traced the outline of his lips with the pad of her tingling thumb, enraptured by the sensual softness of his mouth, breathless and dizzy with anticipation, wanting to dissolve his doubts and hers. “I don’t want you to jeopardize your job,” she whispered. “I’ll talk to her. I’ll fix this.”
“You are fooling yourself, but I want to believe you.”
“Believe this.” She stepped closer, ghosting her lips over his, the tantalizing mystery of his mask increasing her sense of danger and desire. He responded, his mouth moving over hers with aching reverence, until the held-back tears slipped out and down her cheeks.
He vibrated beneath her hands, tension rippling through his muscles, but he made no move to stop her as she reached for his bow tie and loosened it. His eyes were in shadow, an intoxicating hint of green filled with conflicting emotions. He groaned as she slowly drew the soft silk tie from around his neck. She reached down to his wrist, released the musical note cufflink and entwined it into one of her braids. She pushed the cuff away from the smooth skin of his wrist and set her lips there. He gasped softly as her mouth touched his skin. She released the other cufflink and cuff, tangling that musical note into her hair, too. Next she released the buttons of his tuxedo shirt, and then slipped her hands under the shirt to his shoulders, slipping everything back. The shirt, cummerbund and jacket slid off him and pooled on the floor. The white stark against the black.
His chest was thickly muscled, delineated by the dim light from her kitchen, cutting enticing planes and angles, the mask adding sultry mystery to the moment.
His sculpted body was a work of art, and his thick, tousled blond hair made him look like a golden, fallen angel, with those brilliant green eyes glittering behind the Phantom mask.
His hands encircled her waist and traveled up her ribs, one sensual slow inch at a time. Pushing the gingham jumper straps off her shoulders, she pulled the white peasant blouse over her head. He reached up and traced the pulsing vein in her throat all the way down to her midriff. She reached back and unsnapped her bra. He cupped her lower back and angled her so her breasts thrust out. She closed her eyes on a sobbing intake of air as he enveloped her nipple into the wet suction of his mouth. She cried out when he skimmed his palm over her other nipple, squeezing the throbbing tip, cupping her breast and bringing it to his mouth, sucking and biting.
His hands slipped up under her jumper and over the curves of her butt, his fingers hooking into her panties and pulling them down her legs. He gently pushed her onto the bench.
His strong hands roughly pushed her legs wider apart to make room for the w
idth of his broad shoulders as he settled in between. His soft, golden hair tickled her skin as he lowered his head, the silky touch of his tongue a torment against her aching skin, wringing a husky moan from her.
She curled her legs and ruby slippers around his torso as he drew her focus down to the aching knot of nerves sparking off his hot, sleek strokes, and she gasped when he slid two fingers inside of her, then gradually withdrew them, only to sink them back into her in a slow, languid thrust. With a devilish smile, he said, “Why don’t you click those heels together and I’ll take us home.”
On the verge of shattering, her body quaked with need, until a strong stroke of his tongue sent her into spirals of pleasure that coiled and released in a concussive sensation so strong her hips lifted off the bench.
He wrapped his arm behind her hips and pulled her off the bench on top of him, balancing her against the bench cushion as he fumbled to undo his trousers. He shoved them down and sheathed himself with a magically-produced condom, then grabbed her hips and slid her onto his shaft, the friction and depth of his penetration making her pounding pulse leap even higher and faster. Her nipples tingled as they brushed his chest, and she groaned deep in her throat as the aftershocks of her climax mingled with the thrust of his hard erection. His eyes closed behind the mask, he seemed lost in his passion. Then they abruptly opened, a fierce and masterful green.
She eased the mask from his face, her mouth covering his, and he rolled, pinning her beneath him, thrusting hard and fast. Then he paused and met her gaze, brushing back the tendrils of hair lying against her cheek with a touch so gentle and tender her chest tightened and her eyes slipped closed as emotions swamped her.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his worry genuine.
“Yes, don’t stop.”
“Fuck, you feel so damn good,” he rasped.
He gyrated his pelvis against her, her heart tumbling over itself as she lost control completely, getting swamped by the sensation, the tactile, electrifying friction and pressure that was as possessive as it was arousing. He increased the pace, capturing her lips with his, his mouth and tongue as demanding and as insistent as the way he was claiming her body.
His thrusts grew stronger, deeper, harder, more powerful as he buried himself in her, over and over, until her climax crested in a liquid rush of all-consuming, intense pleasure.
He was right there with her tossing his head back with a low growl, his hips grinding against hers as his own climax claimed him. After one more shuddering thrust, he slumped against her, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
Chapter 6
Drew was drowning in Brooke. The smell of her skin, the feel of her body beneath him, the taste of her, all made him sigh blissfully.
He’d tried to remember why he was here, but the way she had kissed him fragmented and scattered his purpose like dust in the wind. The smell of the apple and cinnamon curled around him tempting him to let go, give in, and finally, finally come home.
He’d been sure what he was doing was the right path, but being in her arms was a game-changing moment. Suddenly he questioned everything and knew absolutely nothing.
He stirred and rolled off her. Slipping his hands under her, he lifted, cradling her to his chest. Her eyes were luminous in the dim light, filled with wonder and delight. To win a woman like this one would take more than the physical, more than the mental. It would take heart.
Sadly, he didn’t know if he had one anymore. Over the years he’d become cynical, hardened against the reality of life, making choices which had seemed logical and necessary at the time. Now, trapped in a life of his own choosing, he wasn’t sure he deserved such a woman.
She reached up and cupped his face. And he fell a little deeper into the inner beauty that shone out of her eyes, his heart constricting. He wanted that melting in her eyes to be for him and him alone. The wealth of what this woman offered surpassed any material achievements, but old, habitual fears held him with sharp talons embedded deep in his skin.
Coming home meant letting his guard down, feeling safe and secure. Wanting was tearing at him, and habit held fast, and his internal struggle became so painful he couldn’t be still. Wanting to outrun his thoughts, needing to move, he eased his arm from under her and stood, stunned to realize they hadn’t made it past Brooke’s entryway. Roscoe was on his back on the couch, snoring, and he smiled.
From the foyer, he walked to the intersection of the kitchen and hallway, turning back to hold out his hand. She stood gracefully and flowed across the short space to grasp his hand. Her bedroom door stood open and inviting, the full moon bright like a big, round opal outside her window. Her bed was so charming and inviting, with its plump pillows and patchwork quilt. He turned on her bedside lamp, swept the pillows to the floor and pulled the vibrantly colored cover away to reveal soft blue sheets. He sank down with her in his arms, into the comfort of the cloth and mattress, and gently removed the gingham jumper so she was naked to the moonlight and his eyes.
When she opened her arms, he sank into them, his cheek briefly brushing at the cufflink she’d woven into her braid. With gentleness born of intimacy, he removed the pretty blue blow at the end of her braid and released her bound hair, doing the same to the other braid. Her dark hair pooled on the pillow like mysterious liquid amber.
She slipped her hand into his hair and pulled him down to her mouth. He met her lips, warm and sultry, the aftermath of their lovemaking a resonance that pulsed beneath his skin.
“Brooke.”
She closed her eyes and dropped her chin, resting her forehead on his. “I know what this is all about. I also know you never expected it to go this far, but sometimes the best laid plans can just simply blow up in your face.”
“Kaboom,” he said and she smiled a little, which made him smile a little. “I don’t want you to think this is part of the manipulation.”
“So you admit there was manipulation…I knew that,” she said, her smile edging toward impish.
“I know you did. It almost made the whole thing…sexier.”
“It did. But I won’t hold that against you, Drew.”
“I tried very hard to keep it to a flirtation level, but it became something more, Brooke. I don’t want this to be some kind of sordid—” He stopped, shook his head again. “I don’t know. I’m trying to be articulate.” He looked her in the eyes. “But, what I think I do know, what you should know, is it wasn’t my plan and it isn’t casual. Not for me.”
And right there was the raw, stunning truth of it. Shocking, really, since he’d never come up against this particular problem before. And sure as hell hadn’t expected to here, now.
“I think you got lost along the way when our attraction became something more,” she said gently. “It was your plan to get to know me, find out what made me tick, and it bit you in the backside. Now that you do know me, are attracted to me, it complicates what you have to do with this lawsuit. I know you think it’s as stupid as I do, but it’s a job assignment and has ramifications for what you do for a living. But I ask you this. Is it important enough to you to complete the assignment anyway?”
The softness of her skin sidetracked him from the uncomfortable conversation, and he allowed himself to be distracted by the feel of her breasts, soft and warm against his chest. He nestled his face in the hollow of her shoulder and neck, breathing her scent in deeply, letting the homey fragrance of apple and cinnamon stabilize him. “If I don’t follow through on it, he’ll get someone else much more ruthless than I used to be…thought I was. I won’t let him get anywhere near you, Brooke.” He raised his head and captured her gaze, allowed his eyes to travel over her face bathed in moonlight. “He has no conscience.”
She smiled. “And you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t be spilling your guts to me. You’d be trying to convince me to settle out of court.”
“Ah, woman,” he groaned, dropping his head back to that sweet spot in the hollow between her shoulder and neck. “I have been trying to get you
to settle out of court. A brick wall has more flexibility.”
That got him a tinkling laugh that wormed its way into his soul. “This isn’t exactly what I had planned to do with my law degree, you know.”
“What was that plan?”
He rolled to his back and brought her on top of him. She braced her elbows on his chest, and it was obvious from her determined expression that she wasn’t going to drop this line of questioning. He sighed deep and long. “I was so angry when my parents were killed. That bastard who hit them got off with rehab and time served. He had to do community service, for Christ sake! I vowed I would make a difference when I got out of law school; that I would become an advocacy lawyer and fight for people who were overlooked or victimized by the system. You made me remember that.”
“What happened?” She traced her thumb along his jawbone, rasping over the stubble.
He dropped his eyes. But she slid her fingers beneath his chin, nudging it up, and he resisted for a second, not wanting her to see what might be in his eyes at that moment. He was unmasked, naked, and vulnerable in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with his physical state at the moment, and everything to do with his emotional one. Brooke missed nothing. Even if she was unprepared for what she might find, he doubted she’d miss that, either.
He wasn’t ready to let this go yet, to let her go. He’d never told anyone what he was telling her. He had no idea what intimacy was until just now. True sharing of self. She folded down on him and nudged him with her whole body.
“Spill it.”
He took a deep breath and smoothed his hands over her head. “Anybody tell you that you’re pushy?” His voice hardly more than a gravelly rasp.
“I’m pushy? Look at the pot calling the kettle black. Don’t make me torture it out of you.”
“Yeah, right. You couldn’t torture a flea.”
“Come on, Drew. You’re safe with me,” she said as the moment spun out.
