Razzmatazz-DDL (14 page)

Her hands fumbling with frantic reaction, she managed to unsnap her trousers. But somehow, without losing contact with her trembling flesh, Alex slipped his hand beneath hers and took over the tantalizing task of sliding the last garments from her body. When she thought she could take no more, he released her, but only for a moment, and then she realized his intentions and braced herself, readied herself for his continued loving assault. He moved his mouth to the opposite breast, and it yielded to his suckling; nerve fibers that were strung to the point of agony bloomed and exploded in release. And the other breast nestled in his gentling hand like a relieved sigh, quivering a bit as his thumb circled its moist tip.

“Alex,” she moaned, and repeated his name again and again.

“Lovely,” he whispered, “so lovely.” Her eyes were closed with leaden weights, her body felt heavy, languid.

Though she heard his rustling movement as he divested himself of his hindering garments, she still felt a tremor of surprise when she felt his body, warm skin and taut muscles, cover hers.

“Open your eyes,” he murmured, and it seemed more than she could handle. But then he pressed his thumbs lightly at the corners, tickling her lashes, and she slid her lids slowly open to find him staring intently, his face sheened with the evidence of his own denial.

Bracing himself over her with his elbows planted on either side, he traced her cheekbones with his thumbs, circled her eyes, dragged to her lips, and as one thumb brushed the corner, she tilted her face toward it and drew it into her mouth, never letting her eyes leave his face, glorying in the way his nostrils flared and jaw tightened as he flinched in response.

With that gentle suckling, she showed him what she couldn’t bring herself to say—More. Love me again—and he understood and responded. With his knee he spread her thighs. With his hand he found her moist, aching, ready. But despite the hard length pressing against her, despite the labored rasp of his breathing, despite the smoldering passion in the black depths of his eyes, he held back.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and in that moment of hesitation his eyes seemed shadowed by something more than passion. They were confused, probing, but before she could speak, before she could even think, he was kissing her, a tasting, consuming, desperate kind of kiss that chased away doubts, a clinging, searching kind of kiss that sought reassurance, a demanding kiss that robbed her of reason and filled her with the desire to soothe the moment’s desperate need.

She didn’t wait for his lead but wrapped her body around his, and when she felt his pressure against her, it was her movement that drove him in, her rocking motion that clung and wrung and drove him until he filled her completely, and still she wanted more. It was as if his dark need had seeped into her as well and only the knowledge that it was shared made it bearable at all. Raging torrents threatened to overwhelm her, and as she watched him move over her, his face was etched with equal emotion.

The heat was building, coiling between her thighs, tightening around him to hold him within, and yet she shuddered with pleasure each time he withdrew. His loving was a slow, meticulous, agonizing torment, a slow ascent to a summit she was desperate to reach. Yet his shoulders beneath her hands, the muscles beneath her clinging fingers, were taut with suppressed energy, and she felt the tension mounting in him as well. She moved herself against him and around him and reveled in his low groan as his eyes squeezed shut and his breathing matched hers, short and labored and barely controlled. And when she thought that she could take no more, that surely she would shatter if he didn’t give her release, his tempo changed and each stroke became harder, filling her, touching her so completely that she did shatter into a torrent of shimmering sensations. Each gasp took her higher until she hurtled over the summit, clinging, quaking, knowing only the arms that held her and his hot, grating gasps as he, too, found his release.

And as they lay there afterward, he let his fingers graze languidly down one side of her body, brushing the swell of her breast, tracing her hipbone, tickling and soothing and drawing still more sizzling sensations out of her as she writhed gently under him until she was spent, incapable of other thoughts or feelings. Finally he seemed satisfied. Finally so was she.

“Would you...would you believe me....” His words stirred heat through the hair at her temples. “Would you believe me if I said I’ve never felt this way before?”

She drew in a shuddering breath but couldn’t bring herself to speak. What she was feeling was too new, too raw, too overwhelming. He seemed a man with a line for every occasion. There was no reason to believe him, no reason at all. So why did she have this funny stirring in the pit of her stomach, as if something new was coming to life in her psyche, a subtle emotion she’d never felt before? “I’d want to believe you....” she said.

He tensed ever so slightly, but she could feel it all the same. Again she’d given the wrong answer. That stirring ached with sadness, but she couldn’t bring herself to say more. How could she? What could she say that wasn’t ridiculous and scandalous and dangerous...that wouldn’t make more of what she was feeling than what was really there? But again she felt that bittersweet yearning, because she did want to believe him. She wanted him to say it again and to say more, and convince her that what was happening between them was more than just a brief tryst with fate....

“Is it so hard for you to accept what you can’t understand?” he asked. “Is it so hard for you to trust?”

She pondered that for a moment, relaxing back into his embrace. It was true, of course. She didn’t trust easily. That was exactly why this whole few days had been so bizarre, so confusing. She didn’t trust him. Not with her mind. But her heart...that was another story. It was bestowing faith by the handful, showering this man, this stranger, with trust beyond what she’d given anyone before.

“Why do you have to ask these questions?” she said, caressing his shoulder, his lips, his neck. “Let’s just have our magic without asking why. That’s what a fantasy is, isn’t it? Magic?”

“I’m not sure that I like being someone’s fantasy,” he said somberly. “Not when what I’m feeling is closer to reality than I’ve felt in a very long time.”

“Alex....” she murmured, apprehension trembling through her.

His easy smile returned, a shield between them, but his sigh was rich with good nature. “What will it be this time, Italian or French?”

Her giggles came unfettered. “Am I that predictable?”

“Delightfully so.” He pressed a kiss on her temple. “You could be an expensive habit to keep, you know.”

Of course, that hadn’t been what he meant, she knew, but her pulses fluttered at the sound of those two words: to keep.

After lunch, the dishes had been whisked away on a cart and Alex had gone to check up on Chris. Kennie was emerging from the tub, her skin soft and moist and fragrant with the scent of orange blossoms, when the telephone rang.

She grabbed the receiver off the bedroom wall. “Hello.”

“Judith Gramm here. I’m calling about a memo I found on my desk when I returned from court this afternoon.”

“Yes, ma’am?” Kennie tugged the damp towel a little more tightly around her.

“I have to admit I’m confused. It says here that you and Mr. Carruthers didn’t find the first court date satisfactory and that you’ve rescheduled for four weeks from now?”

“I’m sorry if that’s a problem, Ms. Gramm, but there’s no way we could wait till November,” Kennie protested.

“November?” the older woman asked sharply. “I had you scheduled for a hearing tomorrow.”

Kennie’s fingers grew numb on the receiver. Suddenly she was very, very cold. Her teeth were chattering as she repeated, “Tomorrow?”

“Yes. I have to say, it wasn’t easy convincing the judge to give you a speedy hearing. If I’d any idea you weren’t serious about the matter—”

“We—I am serious,” Kennie said abruptly. “There’s been a mistake. Is it too late to get that appointment back?”

“Yes. My secretary rescheduled it this morning.”

“I’m sorry,” Kennie grated.

“Ms. Ledbetter, are you and Mr. Carruthers having second thoughts?”

Second thoughts? How about third and fourth and...? Finally she managed to say, “I don’t even know the man. All I want is to put all of this behind me.”

“I see.”

Kennie slammed the phone into its cradle.

What reason did Alex have for postponing their annulment? Now she’d have to come back again, when he knew how difficult it was going to be for her.

The inheritance. Her knees buckled, and she dropped onto the small stool. Alex had said the inheritance wasn’t important to him, and she’d believed him. She always believed him. And if she waited for him to return, if she asked him to explain the court date, she’d believe him again. She’d forgive him. Of course she’d forgive him...because he’d extended the fantasy. He’d given her magic. Of course she’d forgive him.... She’d fallen in love with him.

Fantasy had its price. She’d fallen in love with a stranger. A stranger she couldn’t trust.

Her heart said, Give him a chance to explain.

Her mind said, Get the hell out of here before things get any deeper.

This time there was no question which part of her anatomy she would listen to.

~o0o~

An electronic chime bonged as Alex shoved open the barred-glass, pawnshop door. He had been to seven in almost as many minutes. This time, however, instead of a quick appraisal and immediate exit, he found himself staying.

A bad fluorescent bulb hummed somewhere above his head, and a low, droning monotone sounded from the back of the shop. The jewelry cases sparkled with precious metals and gems; the guitars on one wall were an eclectic display that ranged from aging acoustic to zebra-striped electric. One corner of the shop even had an assortment of camping gear, complete with a stuffed rattlesnake, fangs exposed, coiled on a shelf beside the Coleman lanterns and a stuffed skunk guarding a display of hunting knives.

Alex was filled with disgust at all this evidence of what people who couldn’t afford to lose would wager on a whim. But he hadn’t been able to find what he wanted in the hotel, and after all, when something was destined to be thrown away, it made no difference whether it was new or used.

He restlessly jingled the coins in his pocket as he paced the length of the shop.

“With you in a minute,” a man called. The small, balding man pulled a cigar box from under a stack of receipts. He bit the end off of one and lit it with a gold-and-silver lighter. “Picked this up off a blackjack player down on his luck,” he remarked, fondling the lighter in his smooth, fat hand. “Nice piece of work.”

His gaze scanned Alex with a practiced sweep, taking in the watch, the cuff links, the stickpin. A small crease formed between his bushy brows, and Alex smoothed his hair from his face and leaned against the case, satisfied. The guy was trying to figure him out and couldn’t.

“Been in town long, mister?” the man inquired.

“Awhile. I’d like to see that ring, the one in the blue box.”

“This little beauty? Yeah, she’s a nice one. Ruby-and-diamond, platinum settings—”

“No, the one next to it. The wedding ring.” Alex paused while the man regretfully passed his pudgy fingers over the gaudy dinner ring and pulled out the plain, narrow band.

“Pretty thing, ain’t it? Fourteen karat, if I recall...seventy-five bucks.”

Alex plucked the ring from the blue velvet nest and held it in his palm. “Ten karat,” he remarked firmly, reading the inscription: Love, Tony, 11-21-87.

“Sixty-five, then.”

He wondered if it would fit Kennie. He slid it onto the tip of his little finger, and it lodged between the first and second knuckles. Her fingers were long, slender, like the rest of her. He jerked it from his finger with an impatient movement.

“I can size it for you and get rid of the inscription by tomorrow,” the man offered.

“Size doesn’t matter. She’s just going to throw it in the river.” He shoved it back into the velvet box, uneasy but not knowing why.

It had seemed like a clever idea at the time, a chance to see Kennie’s magnificent eyes widen in shock and then in dismay at the audacity, at the sheer wastefulness of it...then finally crinkle with laughter. A ring just to throw in the dadburned river? she would say, and he’d give her one of his most debonair smiles.
Your wish
....

“Fifty,” the man said.

Alex pulled a flat wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket. He plucked out two twenties. “I really think forty is more reasonable, don’t you?”

The man popped the lid of the ring box back open, obviously hoping the flash of gold would emphasize his case.

But it didn’t. Alex stared at the narrow gold band, which was simple, plain, in so many ways fitting. Too many ways, perhaps. This memento of someone else’s folly gone sour jabbed all too close to the quick. Somehow his idea wasn’t as clever as he’d thought. It wasn’t funny at all. The ring wasn’t even a year old. How on earth had it ended up here? Divorce? Gambling? At the thought he felt his gut clench.

“Fifty?” The man held the box closer, and Alex tightened his grip on the two bills.

“I’m sorry. This was a bad idea.” Alex shoved the money back in his wallet, an all-too-familiar restlessness settling over him.

“Mister, I don’t care what you plan to do with the ring. It’s worth more than forty bucks,” the man said, snapping it shut.

“So’s the lady.” The words came from his own lips, yet they caught him off guard. He shoved his wallet back into his pocket. Something was wrong. Everything was wrong. And he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what. All he knew was he had to get out of this shop.

He’d walked into the store to buy a ring for a joke, a laugh. Give the little lady her fantasy, play her game. But he didn’t like her rules. He was sick of games.

The shop owner placed the open ring box back in the case. “I’ve got plenty of nicer rings, if that’s all that’s bothering you.”

Alex massaged the back of his neck, perplexed. What was bothering him?