Keeping Company (21 page)

Dylan jammed his hands in his pants pockets and let the tension drain from his shoulders. He’d really stuck his foot in it this time, he thought,
squeezing his eyes shut against a wave of self-recrimination. He’d ruined Alaina’s big evening, made an ass of himself in front of her colleagues.
Great strategy, Harrison, she’s going to virtually throw herself at you now.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a long, sad sigh as he fell back against the building. What an inadequate thing to say, he thought. But he found himself caught in a trap of his own making. How could he tell Alaina he felt threatened by the world her lawyer friends represented? How could he tell her he was afraid of losing her when he’d promised to make no claim on her?

“Oh, that’s okay,” she said sardonically. “You only ruined my standing in the legal community and shot to hell any chance I ever had of gaining prominence here. It’s nothing, really; just my career.”

And her career was important to her. Prestige was important to her. Dylan felt his heart sinking. He should have seen this coming.

“Marlene was right,” Alaina went on as she dipped into her silk evening bag for a cigarette. “I should have brought you on a leash. Or I should
have brought the podiatrist. The worst he could have done was discuss hammertoes and plantar warts at the dinner table.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Please don’t. I wouldn’t want the guilt associated with orphaning your children.” She watched the stream of smoke she exhaled toward the moon, a wistful expression falling over her elegant features. “I didn’t even get to dance a whole song.”

Dylan leaned close, one hand reaching up to brush at her stylish dark hair. Maybe they didn’t belong together. Maybe they couldn’t make it work. Maybe those thoughts hurt like hell. But a deal was a deal. He owed her. And the idea of holding her close was one he wasn’t ready to let go of just yet.

“Come on, Princess,” he said, taking her free hand and pulling her away from the wall. “Let me take you dancing.”

“I’m no expert,” Alaina said when she slid out of the car and looked around, “but this looks like a marina.”

“It
is
a marina.” Dylan dug in his pocket for a set of keys, then offered Alaina his hand and led the way across the parking lot toward a gate. “Welcome to Sausalito. If you’ll recall, you left the choice of accommodations for this evening up to me.”

“I recall,” Alaina said without enthusiasm. “Heaven only knows what possessed me.” She stared past him as he paused to unlock the gate that barred the dock. “If you think you’re going to take me out on a boat, I’ll tell you right now—I’ll throw up. And if I throw up on this dress, your tab is going to resemble the defense budget.”

“I promise we won’t leave the marina.”

They made their way down the dock, Alaina picking her way along to avoid sticking a heel between the rough boards. Her attention was divided between her progress down the pier and the structures that nestled side by side in the inky water.

“Houseboats,” Dylan explained. “There are a couple hundred permanently moored here. People live in them year-round.”

They didn’t even remotely resemble boats, Alaina thought. They were, quite literally, small houses built on floating platforms. In the illumination of the security light Alaina could make out their shapes and general details. Some were simple dwellings, others were two stories high and had elaborate decks with latticework balustrades.

“Your barge for the evening, Cleopatra,” Dylan said, bowing and waving his arm in a flourish toward the last houseboat in the line.

Alaina gave him a skeptical look. “Mine?”

“Borrowed from a friend who’s spending the weekend in L.A. It’s a boat that doesn’t move. The perfect way for you to get your sea legs.”

“I like the legs I have just fine,” Alaina said dryly as she took his hand and stepped onto the deck of the houseboat. The porch light spilled across her exposed right thigh as the silk of her skirt slid away, giving Dylan a glimpse of black lace at the top of her stocking.

He heaved a heartfelt sigh. “Me too.”

Alaina tapped his cheek. “Chill out, Captain Bligh. You can give me a tour of this tub before you ravish me.”

He brightened at that. “I get to ravish you?”

“Only after we’re finished dancing.”

“You’re a soulless tease,” he declared dramatically. “A merciless coquette, heartlessly toying with the affections of adoring males.”

She gave him a look. “Dancing was the deal, Harrison. Be glad I’m letting you off that easy. I could probably sue you for irretrievably damaging my image.”

“You’ll bounce back,” he said, not quite able to sound snappy. “You’re a tough cookie.”

The houseboat was small but charming. The main level included a living room that opened onto the deck via French doors. Comfort ruled here with inviting furniture in neutral colors and bright handwoven pillows. The kitchen/dining area boasted oak cupboards, a skylight, and a jungle of hanging plants.

They wound their way up a spiral staircase to the bedroom, which was situated directly over the living room, and like the living room, had French doors that opened onto a deck. As in the kitchen, there was a skylight. But this was no ordinary skylight that was positioned directly over the bed. This one was made of stained glass and poured a
rainbow of muted colors on the white goose-down comforter.

Alaina stopped in her tracks and stared at the bed, her heart beating a curious rhythm. Rainbows. When she’d come to California, she’d felt as if she were chasing one. Tonight she would make love beneath one.

Rainbows have lots of magic in them, Bryan Hennessy had once told her. If she dared to believe in that magic for once, would it make a difference? Would it erase the fear she’d felt all evening that Dylan was suddenly slipping away from her, that he was so stubbornly set against the lifestyle she led that he would never want to amend the deal they’d made?

“That dance, Princess?”

Dylan’s voice was a velvet caress against the back of her neck. She didn’t fight the urge to lean back into his warmth and strength. His arms slid around her waist, binding her to him. She could feel his heartbeat against her back.

“We’ll have the floor all to ourselves, and the stars will be our chandeliers,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Great line, huh?
I got it from a Fred Astaire movie. He and Ginger were shipwrecked on an island—in evening clothes, of course.”

“Of course.” Alaina turned in his arms and smiled softly up at him. She loved this man. He was the perfect combination of wit and whimsy, practicality and piffle. She only wished she had the nerve to tell him. But after his performance at the hotel, she was more insecure about their future than ever, and so she remained silent.

Leaving the French doors open, they went out onto the deck. The deck was situated so they couldn’t see another houseboat, giving Alaina the feeling that they had the harbor all to themselves. To one side of the marina rose the steep hills where the homes of Sausalito clung in a fashion reminiscent of the Italian Riviera. To the other side stretched the starlit waters of the bay. Music from the stereo in the bedroom floated out, soft and dreamy.

It was lovely. It was—dare she think it?—magical.

She gave in to the feeling as Dylan took her in his arms and began swaying to the music. Not
even a confirmed nonromantic could resist moonlight and sea breezes and the bluesy wail of a saxophone.

The song went on, slowly and effortlessly. Alaina floated with it. She wound her arms around Dylan, wrapped herself around his heart, forgetting for the moment their deal and their differences. She melted against him, all softness and hope and love unspoken. She even let him lead.

They slow-danced across the gently swaying deck and back again, eventually finding their way through the French doors. Standing beside the color-splashed bed, Alaina reached up and untied Dylan’s red bow tie. Her fingers walked down his shirtfront, liberating the white pearl studs from their moorings, opening the crisp fabric to reveal tanned flesh and curling dark hair.

She pressed her lips to his skin, at once kissing him and drinking in his fragrance. The jacket of his tux slipped back off his broad shoulders and whispered to the floor, revealing suspenders that matched his tie. Alaina hooked her thumbs beneath them and tugged them down to hang in loops from the waistband of his pants.

Her hands roamed to his zipper and eased it down. Gently she stroked the essence of him, cupped him, teased him, finally freeing him from his trousers and pressing him against the smooth, warm silk that covered her belly, all the while lavishing languid kisses across his chest from one flat, brown nipple to the other.

Dylan groaned in mingled pleasure and anticipation. She would be no less warm or silky when she opened herself for him and accepted him inside her. With that knowledge spurring him, he stood back from her and shucked his shoes, socks, and pants. Naked except for the shirt that hung open and the tie that hung like a ribbon around his neck, he sank down on the bed and leaned back against the mound of pillows, his eyes never leaving Alaina.

Feeling as though she were peeling away layers of armor, Alaina lowered the zipper in the side of her dress and bared herself to Dylan’s gaze. The silk dress whispered as it slid to her feet, spilling into a pool of color on the white rug, a pillow of red for the Crystal pin that fell in its center.

She stood absolutely still, letting him look his
fill, feeling naked in a way that had nothing to do with clothing. This wasn’t just a prelude to sex. This was something more. This was letting go of some final barrier. She had never felt so vulnerable or so unable to shield that vulnerability.

Dylan felt everything inside him still as he looked at her. She was stunning. Her breasts were proud and full with nipples drawn into tight knots at the center of large dusky-rose discs. Her waist tapered then flared gracefully. Sheer dark stockings stretched from her toes to the tops of her thighs, ending in a band of black lace. At the apex of those long legs was the triangle of dark curls that covered her most feminine secrets.

He held his hand out to her and drew her down to the bed so that she sat facing him, her bare hip brushing his thigh.

“If I’d known you were naked under that dress, we never would have made it through dinner,” he said in a low, rough voice.

“Silk shows everything, you know,” she whispered in a tone so intimate she barely recognized her own voice. “Personally, I would rather sacrifice
modesty than be caught with an unsightly panty line.”

“I’m not complaining.”

One of her shoes hit the rug, then the other. Dylan slid his hands over her shapely calf, under her knee, and up her thigh to the band of her stocking. His fingers trailed upward to just brush her most sensitive flesh, then fell back to peel the silk down her leg.

Alaina leaned back on her hands, sighing her pleasure as he repeated the process with the other leg. Warmth coursed through her. Desire unchecked. She let go of all logical, practical thought. There was no room for it here. Here, now, there was room only for feeling and for expressing that feeling in a way that transcended words.

Dylan reached for her, pulling her toward him with one hand on her shoulder, the other roaming freely over her breast. “I want you, Alaina,” he murmured, rubbing his cheek against hers. “I want to feel you hot and wet around me.”

Kneeling on the bed, she leaned into him. Her fingers closed around his wrist and she drew his
hand downward, across her stomach to the juncture of her thighs, opening herself to his gentle exploration. She moaned as he parted the petals of her flesh and found her moist and ready for him. Any remnant of inhibition that still clung to her fell away as he eased a finger into her at the same instant he slid his tongue into her mouth.

This was what she wanted—to be possessed by this man, to have him fill her in every way; to have him want her—not just as a temporary partner, but as a soul mate, the woman he could share his whole life with. But as badly as she wanted to tell him, as much as her heart ached with need to share her love, she said nothing. A very old, deeply seated fear refused to die with the rest of her defenses, a fear that had been resurrected anew during the course of the evening.

If Dylan decided he didn’t want her, couldn’t live with her career and her tastes, if he decided to walk away, she would be left alone and lonely, as she had been for most of her life. And she had learned long ago that it hurt less to say good-bye to someone who didn’t realize what their leaving was doing to her heart. So she kept the words to
herself and gave Dylan her love without promises, neither offering nor asking for ties.

Caressing his face with fingertips that vibrated with sensitivity, she mounted him and took him into the secret silken pocket of her body, embracing the most masculine part of him with the essence of her femininity. With the muted rainbow of light dappling their skin from above, she moved on him until he groaned and arched upward, his completion filling her with warmth.

She squeezed her eyes shut, but the colors stayed with her—beautiful, brilliant colors that tumbled and swirled as her body tightened around Dylan’s and shuddered in a climax so powerful, she thought she might lose herself in it completely. When she looked down at Dylan, he was bathed in those colors, a rainbow of magic and love. And she recalled the words she had spoken one day long, long ago, saying that rainbows were nothing more than the diffusion of light through raindrops.

She couldn’t have been more wrong. She could see that now. Her logical mind had clung to its reason, protecting her with prosaic practicality.
She had hidden from the beauty of magic by denying its existence. Now she could see it, and it was so wonderful, it took her breath away. But the price of that glimpse of magic was dear. She’d never been so frightened in her life.

Dylan could feel her pulling away—emotionally and physically. Like a treasure chest that had opened to give him a glimpse of the wonderful, beautiful, shining gifts inside, the lid was suddenly dropping so he could see only the exterior, the facade. He raised up on one elbow as Alaina slipped from the bed and bent to pick up the red silk gown she had dropped on the floor. All he could see of the inner woman now was a glimpse of vulnerability in her eyes as she brushed her fingers across the Crystal pin fastened to the dress, and that glimpse was so brief he was afraid he had imagined it.