A Gentleman's Agreement (11 page)

“Ah, yeah. I’m sure she’ll love it.” Eunice
forced a strained smile. One would have had to be deaf not to detect the
disappointment in her tone.

Blake stared at the
chess board, contemplating his next move. It wasn’t that he’d truly wanted to
be challenging his father to a game at one in the morning; it was more the fact
he hoped it would give Eunice enough time to fall asleep before he got to the
room.

He wasn’t prepared for the
questions he was sure swirled in her head. Those straining questions he’d
witnessed in her eyes. Questions he wasn’t ready to answer, like, “
Why did
you kiss me like that
?”

What would he say? Caught
in the moment? Sticking to the role? He definitely couldn’t tell her the truth:
the minute his lips touched hers, he couldn’t pull away. Nah. He’d given her
enough truth at the path. And if she’d truly heard him at the path, she knew exactly
why he’d kissed her.

Blake pretended not to
notice his father cutting his eyes up at him every couple of seconds. Focused
on his next move, he chose not to entertain the man. But after a couple more
glances, he couldn’t take it anymore. “What, Pop?”

“What, what, son?”

“Why do you keep
eyeballing me?”

His father released a
smooth chuckle. “Something about you is different. I can’t put my finger on
it.”

Blake pushed back in
the button-tufted club chair. There was something different about him. It was
called struggle. And he had Eunice to thank for it. These feelings he harbored
for her were becoming harder and harder to control. Hence his tongue down her
throat earlier. He’d even shocked himself with that move. Damn, that’d been
bold. And risky.

“I’m the same old Blake
Farrington.”

His father wagged his
finger at him. “Oh, there’s something.” He straightened his shoulders. “You
look confident.”

Blake couldn’t resist
laughing at his father. “All right. All right. I may be feeling myself a little.
Having a star named after you will do that to a brother.”

“I had a talk with your
mother about that. All these years and she ain’t never had a star named after
me.”

“Maybe you need to step
up your game, Pop.”

“Step up my game? I’ve
got plenty of game. I put the
m-e
in game. You better recognize.”

“You’re the man, Pop. You’re
the man. No one can ever question that.”

They both laughed.

“On the real, son. That’s
a fine young lady you got. I like her.”

“You like her because
she laughs at your lame jokes.”

“Hey. My jokes are
quality material. Kevin Hart ain’t got nothin’ on me.”

Blake chuckled. He
rested his elbows on the armrest, then intertwined his fingers under his chin.

“What’s on your mind,
son?”

His father knew him
well. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything. You know
that.”

Blake sat forward and placed
his elbows on his thighs. “How did you know mom was ‘the one’? The woman you
wanted to spend the rest of your life with?”

“That’s a serious
question. Am I hearing wedding bells?

Blake flashed both
palms. “No.” But he was starting to lax his views on the subject.

A wide grin spread
across his father’s face. “I knew your mother was the one because she was the
loudest one in the stands.”

Blake’s brows furrowed.
“Loudest one in the stands?”

“You want a woman who
will cheer for you—even when it’s clear you are losing the game. That was your
mother. That
is
your mother. That woman is, has always been, and will always
be my rock.”

“It has to be more
complicated than that.”

“Of course it is. It’s
love. Love is complicated by design. It’s the most maddening, ugliest, complex,
most beautiful, amazing, soul-clenching feeling in this world.”

Blake fell back against
the chair. “Complicated.”

“It’s only as
complicated as you make it to be, son. I remember when I asked your mother to
marry me. She looked me square in the eyes and asked, ‘Why do you want to marry
me?’ So inquisitive, your mother. But that’s one of the many reasons I fell in
love with her.”

“What did you tell
her?”

“I took both her hands
into mine, stared into those big, bright eyes, and said ‘My life wouldn’t exist
without you in it. I’ll give you the world if you let me. I live for you. I
love for you. Live with me. Love with me.” His father stared off as if reliving
the moment, a shroud of sadness spreading across his face.

“Pop? You still with
me?”

His father snapped back
to reality and smiled. “Sorry, son. Your mother takes me there.”

“You and mom have been
together for a while; does the love not…go stale?”

His father spoke with
his hands. “Every time I look into your mother’s eyes, I fall in love all over
again. I’ve never grown tired of that feeling and I never will. I see couples
hit a rough patch and one—or both—go out and have affairs, act foolish, only to
realize what a good thing they had at home. By then, it’s too late.”

Blake nodded. “You and
mom make marriage look easy.”

“Oh, no. Marriage is
not a cakewalk. But if two people want to make it work, it will.”

“I suppose you’re
right.” Blake shifted his focus back to the board.

“That was some gift
Eunice gave you. ’Course, you didn’t do so bad yourself. France,” he said in a
pilfered accent. “You’re taking that flight, right? You know those slick
talking French men.”

“You heard how long
that flight is. And I’m not worried about slick talkers. I trust Eunice.”

Mr. Farrington slapped
his leg. “This is major. I believe you just might be in love.”

Blake laughed. “Major? What
does that mean?”

“Son, you have trust
issues. Ever since you were a toddler. You’d hide your toys under your blanket.
Horded your juice cup.” His father shook his head. “You even buried a toy truck
in your sandbox because you thought the neighbor’s kid would steal it. ’Course,
you were probably right about that boy.”

“Trust issues? I don’t
have—”

“Last year at the
market.”

Blake dropped his head.
“Do you have to bring that up, again?”

“When that young man
attempted to give you your change, you had him mark every bill with a
counterfeit pen before you would accept them.”

“When I gave him the
bills he marked them.” Blake said with humor in his tone.

“I’ll give you that
one. But what about the seafood restaurant. You were convinced the woman would
spit in your chowder when you sent it back. You demanded to watch as the
kitchen prepped you another bowl.”

“Pop, you know that
woman was giving me the evil eye.”

“And my all time
favorite. You hired an independent auditing firm to do exactly what your in-house
auditing department is there to do. Trust issues.”

Blake didn’t have an
argument. “You can never be too careful.”

“True. But if you want
your relationship to work, there has to be trust.”

Blake nodded. “I know.”

“What’s going on in
here?” Ian asked, entering the room.

“I’m schooling your
brother on the art of love.” Their father said, lifting two cigars from the
humidor and passing them out.

Ian clipped the head of
his cigar and hovered over Blake. “Love is a ferocious wave. Sure, it’s
beautiful—from a distance. But that’s before it comes crashing toward you,
knocking you on your ass, and snatching you out to sea. If you’re lucky, you’ll
float. If not…” he shrugged, “…you drown.”

Blake and his father
eyed each other, then Ian.

Their father shook his
head. “Smoke your cigar, son.”

The room erupted in
laughter when Ian made the sign of the cross.

Blake lit the foot of
his cigar and slid it between his lips. He draped his ankle over his knee. He
wasn’t afraid of waves. Pulling a long drag of the cigar, he blew doughnut
shaped rings of smoke into the air. But the kind of love his father described
scared the hell out of him. Especially since he was sure he was falling in that
kind of love with Eunice.

***

Eunice rubbed her hand
over the empty spot Blake should have been occupying. By the time they’d
finished opening gifts, it was after midnight. But instead of coming to bed,
he’d disappeared with his father into the cigar room. That was two hours ago
and he still hadn’t made it upstairs. Was he avoiding her? Of course he was.

She touched her lips
and relived the kiss he’d planted on her. She’d purchase every batch of
mistletoe in Virginia just to experience his lips pressed against hers again.

It was just part of
their deception, right?

Eunice scolded herself.
She had to stop doing this. Had to stop trying to convince herself that
this—whatever
this
was—hadn’t morphed into something far beyond just a
business deal. Had to stop pretending she didn’t want Blake because she did, more
than any man she’d ever wanted before. She had to come to the terms with the
fact she’d fallen for the boss.

“This was a business
deal doomed from the start,” she mumbled. Mainly because her feelings for Blake
hadn’t just surfaced this weekend, they formed long ago. But in New York, she’d
been able to keep them in check. Here… Here she was powerless to shut them off.

The door rattled and
light flooded in from the hallway.
Blake
. What should she do? Speak? Pretend
to be asleep? Bury her head under the covers? Unfortunately, when it sounded
like Blake stumbled over something, she chuckled, giving away her awake status.

“You’re still awake.”
Blake said from the foot of the bed.

“Yes,” she said,
sitting up and clicking on the nightstand light.

He looked troubled as
he stood with his hands in his pockets. She spent enough time around him to
know something weighed heavy on his mind. Was it her? Was it this thing between
them?

“I spoke to Sasha
earlier,” he said, eyes firmly planted on her.

She’d figured as much
when he’d escaped into the frigid cold earlier that day. Propping herself
against the headboard, she said, “Okay.” What else was she supposed to say?

Blake shrugged. “I just
thought you should know that.”

The logical question
would have been, “Why?” But with them, logic had long gone on hiatus. “
Thanks
?”

Eunice swung her feet
over the bed and planted them firmly on the floor. He was telling her all of
this for some reason. “Why are you telling me this, Blake?”

His hands slid from his
pockets as he neared her. Had he been paying attention, he would have seen her
hands trembling from their closeness. Last thing she needed was for him to kiss
her like he had earlier. She wasn’t sure she would be able pull away. Wasn’t
sure she’d be able to toss asinine excuses at him.

Blake was so close now that
she could smell the lingering scent of cigar smoke on his clothing and expensive
brandy on his breath. Never had the two teased her as they did now. Or maybe it
was the way he peered into her soul through her eyes.

“Blake—” His hands came
to rest on her waist—firmly, but gently. As usual, his touch unleashed her pent
up desire. His mouth lingered near hers, but he didn’t kiss her. Why in the
hell was he teasing her?

He dragged a finger
down the side of her face, then brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “No
woman has ever made me feel the way you do, Eunice. Every time I’m with you, I
want nothing more than to hold you, kiss you, make love to you.” He searched
her eyes. “If you tell me you don’t want this, don’t want me, I’ll pull away.
But I’m tired of fighting whatever is happening between us. It seems like a
waist of good energy.”

Yeah, fighting this
battle was killing her, too. Eunice planted her hands in his chest. Instead of
pushing him away, she pulled him near. She stared up into the stern eyes of the
man in front of her. Something seized her soul and unleashed words she’d
trapped deep inside. “I feel something for you, too. But what I feel for you,
Blake, started well before our arrival in Norfolk. You’re not the only one
who’s been fighting. My body wages war on itself anytime I’m near you.”

Blake’s expression
softened. “You could have shared your feelings with me.”

“You say that as if it
were that simple. You were with Sasha. Not to mention I’m your employee. I love
my job; I didn’t want to jeopardize it. I
don’t
want to jeopardize it.”

“You’re fired,” he
said, a laugh present in his tone. “Now you no longer have anything to worry
about.”

She was sure that under
different circumstances, she would have found the humor in his words. “I
wholeheartedly want to believe it’s not, but what if… what if this is a mistake,
Blake? What if things don’t work out? What happens then?”

Blake placed his hands
on either side of Eunice’s neck. “I don’t make mistakes.” He smiled.

“I’m serious, Blake.”

“Believe,” he said,
something he constantly told his clients when they came to him with doubt. “I want
you, Eunice Howard. Maybe far more than I should.” He brushed a stray hair from
her face. “I won’t make a move until you’re certain, until you’re ready. I need
you to want me just as much as I want you.” He pressed a kiss to his forehead
and stepped away.

Before he could get
more than a few steps, she snagged the hem of his sweater. Once Blake turned to
face her, she said, “Make your move.”

Without hesitation, he
captured her mouth in a toe-curling kiss that rivaled the one he planted on her
in front of his family. Her hands explored his body: his solid chest, his
sculpted arms, his powerful back. The second he pulled away from her starving
mouth, her lips yearned for his to return.

Blake cradled her face.
“How much of me do you want tonight?”

Was this a trick
question? “All of you. All of you,” she repeated.

He lifted her arms over
her head, removing the oversized shirt she wore. His calm and composed manner translated
into an absolute turn on for her. Once she was naked, the way his eyes ate her
up made her entire body sizzle out of control.