Bound With Pearls (15 page)

“Oh honey, don’t say that.” Bianca turned to face her, snagging her arm. “Usually Daniel’s running around crazy-like. He’s such a control freak when it comes to his work. No one can help him with anything. That he trusts you enough to ask you to do something is big.”

“B’s right,” Clay said, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist. “I don’t know how many times we’ve offered to help and he’s turned us down.”

The doorbell prevented her from stammering out an insufficient reply. She wanted to believe there was a relationship of the permanent kind in their future, but she couldn’t count on it. Still, knowing she was good enough to pass muster boosted her ego.

“Excuse me.” She turned to the door, her smile coming more easily as she greeted a large party.

“Hey, Chris.” Clay tugged on her elbow. “We’re going to be at the bar. Yell if you need us.”

She nodded while shaking the hand of a glamorous woman. Her gaze was critical. An older, handsome man in an all-black suit stepped up next to her. He, at least, met her eyes.

Clearing her throat, she closed the door behind the last of their party.

“Are you Daniel’s assistant?” the gentleman asked her. He had an aristocratic way of speaking, almost as if he fancied himself British but had to make do with his American heritage.

“Oh no.” Her skin flushed hotter. “I’m just helping with tonight.”

“Really?” The woman leaned forward. “Where is the jewelry?”

“Oh, you’ll have to talk to Daniel about that,” she managed to get out without stuttering.

“Talk to me about what?” The deep rumble of his voice washed over her, releasing the tension in her shoulders. He would make everything better.

Daniel slung his arm around her waist, settling his hand where her panties would rest if she were wearing any, and buzzed her temple with a quick kiss. “Good to see you again,” he said to the gentleman and offered his hand.

“Daniel, always a pleasure. We were admiring your hostess and discussing the schedule for tonight. Have you started work on something new?”

“She is unique, isn’t she?” He pushed her hair over her shoulder. His thumbs traced the curve of her tattoo, a habit he’d developed. “Turn around, dear. She has this marvelous tattoo. Here, you can see the front half of the bird.” His fingers skimmed over her skin. “It curls down past her waist. The artist did a beautiful job, and quite frankly it was inspiring.” He squeezed her shoulder and turned her back around. His attention might be on answering the question but his gaze was all for her. “Thank you.”

He took her hand and turned her to face the guests. She knew her face was bright red. She didn’t want to be the center of attention, or what his observation of her tattoo might implicate to these people.

“Oh, she’s blushing,” the woman cooed.

He chuckled and tucked her close to his side. “Chris is modest.”

“It’s beautiful, I’m sure. Very edgy,” the gentleman interjected.

“What I am thinking about is a collection inspired from modern tattoos. There’s a rich history behind the artistry. Not everyone is up to the permanence of a tattoo, but jewelry, that’s different.”

“I like where this is going, but you haven’t made any of this, have you?”

He paused and the guests clustered around them leaned forward. Shaking his head, Daniel grinned. “Nothing to show the public, so no. Not yet.”

“Why don’t you talk to me about what we’ll see tonight?” The gentleman flicked his fingers toward the bar. “Have a drink with me while we discuss this.”

The doorbell rang, separating her from Daniel and the continuation of the conversation. He hadn’t shared with her how her tattoo had inspired him. She felt a strange mix of awe, flattery and curiosity. She refused to wonder why he hadn’t told her. Instead, she focused on making his guests feel welcome. Over the next half-hour, a steady stream of people arrived until the loft was teeming with the fashionable and wealthy.

The servers began moving between people and the bartenders served up a steady line of drinks. Unfortunately, she’d chosen to wear bright red and stuck out like a sore thumb among the other guests dressed in sleek black formal attire. She lost track of names and faces as she tried and failed to find Daniel. She did collect a large number of empty glasses, dirty napkins and paper plates from the hors d’oeuvres.

“There you are.” The vixen from earlier sidled up next to her as she relinquished the wineglasses to a server.

“Hello,” she said, trying to not be wary, but the woman brought to mind a buzzard circling prey. Not because she was hideous, she was actually very pretty, but her mannerisms spoke of an opportunist.

“Look, I’ll be honest but Gerry might get mad at me.” She pouted. “Do you think you can get me a sneak peek into what he does next?”

“I don’t think so. I’m sorry. Daniel doesn’t really discuss his work with me.” She stepped back from the woman but she followed.

Across the room, a musical chime sounded and everyone’s attention turned away from their private corners. Daniel stood on the raised area next to the far end of the kitchen. Behind him, willow-thin women in uniform black strappy cocktail dresses and makeup stood as a silent army, each adorned with a piece of jewelry she recognized as being his. He started to speak.

“Still.” The woman leaned in uncomfortably close and pressed a card into her hand. “Give me a call. I’ll pay you for it.”

“Okay,” she said, more to get the woman away than anything else.

Sadly, she missed whatever brief speech Daniel made. The jewelry models dispersed through the crowd. Around her, people chattered excitedly. Clearly this was what everyone had been waiting on.

She did her best to fade into the background. She enjoyed seeing his success, the jewelry he created and how people responded to it, but she didn’t want to be the center of attention. That had never been her comfort zone.

“There you are.” Bianca’s voice startled her from behind. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” She laid a hand over her heart and leaned against a low bookcase.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I need to unscrew my smile. God, my cheeks hurt.” She massaged her face for good measure.

“Well, it’s going super well. I’ve never seen him so relaxed.”

“That’s relaxed?” She looked over Bianca’s head to where he was shoving his hands through his hair and nodding at something a younger man in a fashionably skinny suit was saying.

Bianca smiled. “Yes, he is. Trust me. How are you really doing? You look lovely, by the way.”

She smoothed her hand down a hip and squeezed her thighs together. Could Bianca tell she wasn’t wearing underwear? “Thanks. I’m good. A little overwhelmed, but good. Should I be doing anything else? Asking people if they need drinks or anything?” It wasn’t her event, but she wanted to help him make it a success.

“Chris, you’re a hostess, not a waitress.” Bianca pressed two glasses in her hands. Despite her shorter stature, she gave her a distinctly Dominant look. “Here’s a drink for you and one for Daniel. Go calm him down.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Bianca chuckled. “That’s not necessary, but you belong with him.”

She bit her lip and looked from the glasses to Daniel. She could feel Bianca’s gaze on her. She was fine being in the background, but he was the star here. Her natural reaction was to stick to the wall.

He bent to listen to something a woman was saying but his gaze was scanning the room over her shoulder. He was distracted, looking for something or someone. He shoved a hand through his hair, pushing a tuft of it up in an odd angle. He looked gruff and adorable.

“Excuse me,” she said to a man and edged past him.
A force once in motion stays in motion
, she reminded herself. If she put one foot in front of the other, she’d get there. But the press of people was tighter at the far end of the room, probably because of the location of the food.

“Chris, there you are.” His voice brought her head up. She’d wound her way to the cluster of people he reigned over. He held out his hand, parting the loose circle of people he’d been in conversation with. She tried not to freeze up as all eyes landed on her. “Have you all met Christine?” The group mumbled variations of yes all around.

While he prompted a gentleman to continue speaking, Daniel pulled her to his side and wrapped an arm around her waist. Even with the crowd of guests, when he paused to glance at her, everything else faded away. He calmed her nerves with a look and a smile. The kiss he planted on her cheek was icing on the cake. He squeezed her hip, knowing fully that under her dress she was bare. Were her panties still in his pocket? He accepted the drink and downed half of it.

He pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, “Thank you.”

Around them, conversation picked up with whatever story the man was telling but her focus was on Daniel. She was hyperaware of every bit of skin he touched, how his hand drifted up to trace the tattoo and what it now meant to both of them.

The group turned to another topic and Daniel pulled her away.

“Did you get your tattoo done here?” he asked as he steered her between groups, not pausing to speak with anyone.

“Yeah. It’s a shop a few blocks from where I live, actually.” She took his empty cup and gave it to a server.

“Thanks.” He handed her drink over as well and tugged her against him, their faces inches apart, their bodies perfectly aligned. “I was thinking about getting one. Want to help pop my cherry?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She laughed, caught off guard by the question and the expression. “Of course.” She looped her arms around his shoulders and threaded her fingers through the soft curl of hair at his nape.

“You’re thinking.”

“I have a bad habit of it, I know.” She bit her lip.

“What are you thinking?”

She sighed. “You said earlier that my tattoo inspired you.”

The atmosphere between them changed. He looked at her from half-hooded eyes and a little kick to one side of his mouth. “That’s not all that inspired me. But yes, it did spark my creativity.” He cocked his head to one side. “I should have talked to you about that first, shouldn’t I?”

“It’s okay, I’m just curious. It’s not like you need to ask my permission to be inspired. I’m glad to help even.”

“Is it okay if we talk about it later? I can show you some sketches and stuff. I’d like your input on a few things actually.”

“Really?” That was more than she’d expected.

His smile stretched broader. “Yeah. You have a good eye. Also, I still have something of yours in my pocket.”

“Oh god.” She ducked her head as he slid a hand lower on her waist.

“I need to go talk to someone who makes me want to grind my teeth. Bring me a drink in ten minutes and act like you need to talk to me.”

She glanced over her shoulder and spied one of the models on the arm of yet another sharply dressed man approaching them. She chuckled, quite liking the idea of being his coconspirator.

Chapter Eleven

Daniel closed the door behind the last guest and turned the deadbolt. He didn’t care if anyone had forgotten something, he wasn’t about to unlock the door until tomorrow morning. He was exhausted and elated.

For once he hadn’t needed to worry about whether the bartenders had ice or answer the phone for a lost vendor. Christine had taken care of everything. She’d gone above and beyond what he’d asked of her, and she’d done it with grace and poise. Hell, even Gerry had liked her, and he didn’t like his own girlfriend much.

Several people had expressed interest in custom pieces, and his ideas for a line themed after tattoos had sparked a lot of positive feedback. There were sketches under lock and key he wanted to show Chris before he made the samples. Neil was going to piss himself when he saw how detailed the designs were, but he could get over it.

He rested his back against the door. A chill sank through his shirt and into his skin. After the stifling heat of too many people in the loft, it felt good. Christine was making her way around the edge of the room, her heels discarded and a bag in hand. She gathered plastic plates and napkins, pausing here and there to wipe at something. She’d been quietly tidying up all night, cleaning up after the guests, directing them to the bathroom, answering questions and suddenly appearing whenever one of the artsy-fartsy types got on his last nerve.

She was beautiful, with her red hair, crimson dress and unexpected ink. And she was here. His.

He padded up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. She melted at the touch, leaning against him and glancing over her shoulder. She fit against him so well.

“That was a success.” He planted a kiss on her shoulder and swayed with her in his arms. “Thank you for all your help tonight.”

“I didn’t do anything. Not really.”

“Oh yes, you did.” Hiding a smile, he guided her to the couch and sat down, pulling her across his lap. She yelped with laughter and grabbed hold of his shoulders, the bag falling to the floor with a clank. “I didn’t have to worry about anything.”

“Anyone could have done what I did.” Still, she wrapped her arms around his neck, preening under his appreciation.

She blossomed under praise. She worked hard, he saw it in how she handled the small things she did, like cleaning up his place when she didn’t have to. He could imagine a younger Christine, one who stepped into her mother’s shoes without complaint and did what had to be done to take care of a sister who would never grow up and a father who would never recover.

Shaking his head, he realized he’d been staring. “Maybe, but I don’t think Clay would have looked as good in a pair of heels.”

He hadn’t cared for someone the way he was growing to care for her in a long time. He distracted himself from the complicated emotions swirling in his chest by better acquainting himself with her legs.

Her dress was made from a non-shiny, satin fabric in a rich red that complemented her hair and rosy cheeks. One of the best things about it was the loose skirt, which was no barrier at all against sliding his hand up the outside of her thigh.

“No, I don’t think he would. It was nice seeing Bianca and Clay again.”

He squeezed her leg. “Yeah, I don’t want to talk about them right now.”

When she relaxed against him and flashed him a coy smile, his cock stirred despite his bone-weariness.

“What do you want to talk about?” She walked her fingers up the buttons on his dress shirt.

He flipped her hair over her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her neck. “Do you have to go home tonight?”

She chewed her lip and didn’t meet his gaze. He grappled with himself to remain calm. It was natural for her to have second thoughts about their relationship. Or not-relationship. He wasn’t ready to talk commitment with her. Not until his surprise was finished. And not when he was bone-weary.

“Nope.” She shook her head and smiled.

He resisted breathing a sigh of relief. He’d do better next time. “I should have thought about mentioning it earlier.” He sat back against the couch and grimaced. “I lose my marbles when I have to do this crap.”

“It’s okay. I sort of brought some stuff with me. Just in case, you know?” Her shy smile was accompanied with a trademark blush.

He cracked a grin, his hands making lazy passes along her body. “Was someone looking to get lucky?”

She leaned into him, pressing her breasts against his chest. “I think I’ve been pretty lucky so far.”

“Yeah, you are.” He lightly slapped her leg. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

“Okay. I’m going to run down and grab my bag.” She pushed off his lap, smoothing the dress down over her hips. He hadn’t given her panties back yet. They were still bunched up in his pocket, and he was guilty of patting the lump of fabric through the night. Mostly as a distraction, but also to remind himself every time some hipster paused to talk to her that she was his.

His response was interrupted by a yawn. He saw her to the door, tempted to go down to the garage with her. Unlike his guests, who had to make do with public parking, he’d given her the access codes to the small underground lot. It was secure and monitored by cameras, otherwise he would have escorted her. Instead, he sank back down on the couch. He needed to check to see what time the maid was coming tomorrow and clean the random clutter off the bed. Any other night he might have been fine with lying down on the couch and napping there for a bit, but not with Christine coming back. His couch wasn’t big enough for both of them. Still, it was nice to relax and close his eyes for a moment.

The next thing he knew, someone was gently shaking his arm.

“Daniel. Daniel, come on to bed.”

He groaned and swatted at the person shaking him.

“Don’t growl at me.”

He peeled one eye open and glared at Christine, who was trying to muffle her giggles. The loft was cloaked in darkness and his muscles were stiff. This falling asleep business was starting to be a bad habit with them. He peered at Christine, recognizing the charcoal t-shirt as one of his. Her makeup was gone and she looked as tired as he felt.

Levering himself up, he glanced around. “How long have I been out?”

She took his hand and tugged him off the couch. “I don’t know. Little over half an hour? Probably more.”

He let her lead him into the bedroom. The clutter that had been piled on the bed was gone, the comforter turned down. He smiled to himself. Christine had a nurturing streak a mile wide. He’d have to remember that service punishment was out, but maybe if she misbehaved he’d make her model at his next show.

She’d hate it.

It was perfect.

He wrapped his arms around her, trapping her hands against his chest with half his buttons undone, and kissed her. “Sorry about falling asleep.”

She chuckled and nipped his lower lip. “Don’t be. Let’s get you undressed and get some sleep, okay?”

Somehow he got out of his dress clothes and into bed. The last thought before he fell asleep was that he was a lucky bastard.

* * * * *

Warm fuzzies threatened to smother her. She couldn’t stop grinning at her phone. It was a stupid smiley face but Daniel had sent it to her. Slipping the phone into her purse, she got out of her Jeep and looked up at the weather-beaten townhouse that had been her adolescent home.

Standing on the sidewalk, she gazed up at the front porch, part of her expecting to see her mother throw the door open and race down the stairs to give her a hug. Instead the brisk breeze whipped her jacket around her legs. A neighbor she didn’t know pushed past with a dog on his heels. The neighborhood was different, like everything else these days.

Hoisting her purse up on her shoulder, she made her way to the front door and knocked.

No one answered.

She feared Dad might be losing his hearing. He often missed calls or people knocking on the door. She didn’t know how to handle this bump in the road, but she’d see it through. At least she had a spare key. Digging it out, she let herself into the house and shed her jacket in the entry.

“Dad? Dad, I’m home.”

She followed her nose to the kitchen in the back of the house. Her father stood over the stove stirring a pot. From the smell, it was Mom’s stew recipe. The one she made whenever they had something to celebrate. The surge of emotion and the urge to cry didn’t surprise her. It was always that way when she came home.

“Hey, Dad.”

Her father turned, still holding the wooden spoon in his hand. “Chris, I didn’t hear you come in.” He smiled, the creases in his face deepening. In the genetic lottery, Christine had received most of her features from her father’s side of the family, though it was a mystery where the red hair came from. She had his height and build and Mom’s eyes and nose.

He spread his arms and she walked into them. He’d always been a big man, but age had stooped his shoulders and he’d lost weight. Losing Mom had taken something intangible out of him. She wanted to squeeze him just to make sure he was still with her sometimes.

He let her go and gave her a head-to-toe once-over. “You’re looking healthy as ever.”

She shook her head and chuckled. “Thanks, Dad.”
I think?

He turned back to the stove and continued stirring the stew. “I haven’t heard from Lucy yet, but I reckon she’ll be here soon.”

She kept her smile tightly screwed in place. “Yeah, I bet.”

“Would you mind taking a look at that computer you girls bought me? It keeps asking for me to do something.” He covered the pot and set the spoon down.

“Sure.”

“Oh, I’ve got something for you girls.” His face lit up. “Come here.”

She followed him into the living room. Two red bags sat on the coffee table, cluttered with newspapers. He grabbed one and shoved it into her hands.

“What’s this?” She peeked inside.

“Your Valentine’s Day present. Open it.”

“Dad, you didn’t have to do this.” But she still smiled, memories of Christmases and birthdays past scrolling through her mind. Dad had always tried his hardest to give them each a present he picked out. Sometimes they were spot on and others, like an encyclopedia set, made her wonder what he was thinking. Reaching in, she grabbed something wrapped in plastic and pulled out a boutique lotion set. “Oh Dad, thank you.”

She gave him another hug. He’d always loved his daughters, maybe too much because they could do no wrong.

“How about that computer, huh?” She stepped back, clutching her gift to her chest.

“I’ll be in the kitchen.”

She went to the front of the house, where the office had a nice view of the street. The computer she’d bought him for Christmas last year sat on a corner of the cluttered desk. Lucy hadn’t been able to buy presents that year. So Christine had put both of their names on the computer. Of course then Lucy had gone off to Colorado for New Year’s and asked Christine to take her to the airport. Maybe it was time she stopped accepting her sister’s behavior. They were both adults now and Lucy needed to take responsibility for her actions.

Christine would still put Lucy’s name on presents to their father though.

It took a half-hour of fiddling around to get his virus protection up to date and the updates finished. She kept an eye on the street and her phone for some sign of Lucy, but there wasn’t even a ghost of her.

She finally bit the bullet and dialed Lucy, but the call went straight to voicemail. “Hey, Luce, Dad and I are wondering where you are. Call me back and let us know when you’re getting here.”

She chewed her lip and stared out of the window. Truth be told, she had a bad feeling about this. Lucy ignoring her calls wasn’t new, but today was tradition. And their dad looked forward to the few times the three of them got together.

Swallowing down her trepidation, she went back to the kitchen and helped set the table and make coffee. Her father didn’t ask about Lucy, but his periodic glancing at the door said more than words. He didn’t press them to spend time with him or call all the time. He respected their lives, and every few days when she called him, his joy in hearing her voice was genuine.

She sat down in her usual chair to his left. Lucy’s place sat empty across from her and where their mother would have sat, a small bouquet of tulips stood in remembrance. She couldn’t look at the flowers. Her mother had been gone years and she could still cry like a baby.

“Do you think Lucy got lost?” he asked as he carried the stew to the table.

Her stomach rumbled from how good the food smelled. “I don’t know. Let me give her a call.”

She dialed Lucy again and bit her lip as the call connected.

Her phone rang.

And rang.

And Lucy still didn’t answer. She tried her again, praying the phone was maybe in the bottom of her purse and she hadn’t gotten to it in time. But after three tries, she couldn’t see the point of a fourth.

“Sorry, Dad, she’s not answering.” She bit her lip to keep the scathing comments in. Lucy was Daddy’s little angel.

“Well, I’m sure she’s busy with that new job. Why don’t we go ahead and dig in?” He ladled some of the stew into his bowl before passing it to her.