Risking the World (24 page)

"Nice digs, pal," he joked when David stepped out of a nearby room.

David nodded without comment, and he wondered again how much James told David about their conversation.  "Elizabeth here yet?"

"She has yet to arrive.  Claire will be in shortly." He followed David into a classy living room filled with a ton of antique furniture.  "May I get you a Manhattan?"

"Since when do you have the fixin's for my favorite drink?"

"Maggie keeps the bar fully stocked," David replied, his icy politeness a far cry from that of his best friend.

It was gonna be a long night if Elizabeth didn't show up soon, and the trip he was taking with David tomorrow would be even longer if this sort of thing kept up.  Maybe he made a mistake letting David be in charge of their trip to the continent and Morocco.  A rustle intruded on his thoughts and Claire walked in looking like a million bucks.  Not that you couldn't see she had the potential all along, but tonight she didn't have that brainy scientist look all over her face.  She crossed the room as if to shake his hand, but David shortstopped her.

"Claire, you look lovely," David said and moved like he was about to kiss her, although he caught himself and only winked.  She beamed and her body tilted toward his.

They gotta be lovers.  And he hasn't said jack shit about it to me.

"Bobby's having a Manhattan, I'm having a Martini. What shall I get you?"

She paused as if slightly baffled.  Must not be a drinker. Then she picked a Martini.

That seals the deal.  Definitely lovers.

David made drinks.  He made small talk with Claire, steering clear of why they were here instead of the States for turkey day, and counted the number of times she glanced at David and smiled in a sweet, shy sort of way.  Nine.  When Claire left the room to get more ice he gave his friend one last chance to fess up.  "Wow, she's a real looker, pal."

David sort of scowled but said nada.  Where was Elizabeth, anyway?

At last the doorbell rang and she made a grand entrance. Kisses and smiles to David and to Claire, who thanked her profusely for something, and at last she turned her charm on him.  "Mr. Bobby Keane. Greetings and salutations on this, your day of Thanksgiving for deliverance to a land free from the yoke of my countrymen."

"That's one way of putting it, honey."  He took her outstretched hand and kissed it.  Might as well get with the program.

David came up beside her protectively.  What, did he think Bobby wasn't good enough for his cousin?  "Elizabeth, what shall I get you?  I have a nice Chablis."

She studied his cocktail.  "What are you drinking, Bobby?  It matches my hair."

"Killer Manhattan, drink at your own risk."

"A killer Manhattan, David."

Lizzie looked his way and licked her lips.  All right.  His friend could give him the cold shoulder all night long.  What the hell did he care?  Maybe David wouldn't be the only one to get lucky tonight.  And if Lizzie was willing, who was he to say no?  She might be David's cousin and Jeremy's sister, but the woman sure knew her own mind.

***

Elizabeth was well aware Aunt Dorothy hadn't taken to her color suggestions in the last redecorating, but when David followed Claire to the kitchen and left her alone with Bobby, the drawing room seemed cozier than she remembered, somehow warmer.  She took a sip of her Manhattan.  "Delicious."

"Yep, but this Manhattan can't beat your outfit.  You design that?"

A blaze of pleasure burned through her.  Few men of her acquaintance, including her ex-husband, would ask the question in a manner that showed true interest in her talents.  "Since you ask, I'd like to draw special attention to my shoes."

She arched one foot in Bobby's direction, careful to aim it so calf and thigh showed to advantage, and regaled him with the tale of how sale shoes turned into the design for her lapis-colored evening suit.  Tears of real laughter swelled in the corners of his baby blue eyes by the time she finished.  So far so good, especially when David led them into the dining room and Bobby immediately noticed her Pilgrims and Indians.  "Hey, where'd you guys get these?  I'd say Harrods, but they're too American."

"They're Elizabeth's creations," Claire volunteered.

She curtsied before sitting and everyone laughed.  But especially Bobby, who gave her thumbs up and continued to bowl her over throughout the meal by being complimentary, funny, and full of the brash American optimism that made her feel anything was possible.  And what a body. Muscles bulged beneath his suit whenever he passed a serving dish.  He wore clothes well, but he was made to be naked and tonight her imagination ran most especially to the naked part as she dropped all reservations and simply delighted in this man who happened to share her dead brother's profession.

She wished to seize the day,
Carpe Diem
, as Claire obviously had done with David.  The two of them painted a picture of domestic harmony, and she smiled to think the cousin who assisted Claire in serving the meal was the same boy who egged her on to help him light every Thorn Hall fireplace so he might observe smoke pouring from twenty-four chimneys at once. Why, he even volunteered to help Claire organize coffee and dessert, leaving her to amuse Bobby in the drawing room.  No need to twist her arm.  She was prepared to play with fire, and see if her happiness might match Claire and David's.

"How shall I entertain someone from the colonies?" she asked.  "Test your knowledge of our history?"

"No, tell me what you know about the States, Lizzie. Been there much?"

"I know the East Coast a bit.  The Earl once had a seaside cottage in Maine for a summer when he was considering some sort of lobstering investment."

"The Earl?"

"My father."

"You call your father the Earl?"  A curious quality infused his voice, as though he were rapidly reclassifying information he'd acquired about her so far this evening, and she found it difficult to judge if her offhand remark about the Earl went in the plus or minus column.

"If you ever meet him you'll see he fits the name by birth and temperament."

He shrugged and his eyes narrowed.  A moment passed before he said, "Actually, I've met your Dad.  Had lunch with him and David here in London, around the time David came down from Forbes Castle."

He must've known Jeremy then.  Why else would the Earl, a complete recluse since his only son's death, have lunched with Bobby?

"Yep, I was on that mission, too. With David and your brother.  Figured I might as well say so."

She wished he hadn't, because now she knew with certainty he was the American who carried her dead brother and injured cousin out of Kurdistan.

"Look at me, Lizzie."

She couldn't.  All she could think was she chose to play with fire and now she was getting scorched.  She deserved it.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Saying I'm sorry for your loss is kind of lame, but I am.  Jeremy was a good kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sometimes life sucks."

Too true, and she most certainly did not want to like someone who was with Jeremy and David that last time.  And, even if she liked him, how could she bear to be near a constant reminder of the tragedy that shook her family?

"Lizzie, your Dad wanted to know all the details."

"He never mentioned a word to us."

"I can tell you, if you want me to."

Perhaps at some point, but definitely not tonight.  "Thank you, no."

She had the rest of the evening to get through.  And she would, no matter how much she hurt.  Thank God the hosts clattered in bearing loaded trays.

"We have pumpkin and pecan pie," David announced with fanfare.  "Both made by the hands of the lovely Claire."

She put on a brave face.  "I didn't know you delved into cookery, Claire."

"Taste before you compliment, Elizabeth.  Will you have a little of each?"

"A sliver of pumpkin will be fine, thank you."

"Gimme some of each," Bobby said.  "I've got a big appetite."

Ten minutes earlier she would have relished his sly smile and all it implied.  Now she was at a loss.

"David, I know what you want," Claire stated.  "Pecan."

"No, I'll have some of each as well."

"But pecan's your favorite."

David grinned at Claire.  "I have begun to believe any pie you make would be my favorite."

They were lighthearted tonight, in spite of what they continued to face.  Did that mean there was a chance for her and Bobby too, despite it all?  Certainly she continued to hum with awareness of him throughout the dessert course and the fine vintage port that followed.  And when he offered to escort her home, which wasn't far from his hotel, the back seat of the taxi put her just where she wished to be when the evening began . . . as near to Bobby Keane as possible.  Perhaps she could invite him in for a drink when they got to Charles Street.  And after that?

After that, who can say?

***

Bobby eyed her legs as her skirt inched up when the cab took a sharp turn.  Contoured calf muscles and spike heels made those legs unbelievably sexy, and he sat close enough to stroke her thigh although he didn't do it.  Earlier tonight he'd been sure she wanted him to, but then the talk turned to Jeremy.  Things got a whole lot more complicated when it became clear he'd been there when her brother died.  Still, when they got to her place she asked if he wanted to come up for a drink.

He shouldn't even think about any kind of relationship with her.  It wouldn't be fair if one day he found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like Jeremy.  But that didn't stop him from saying, "Yeah, love to."

He paid the driver and followed her upstairs to a swanky living room where small oriental lamps cast a sensuous glow, and her firm butt in that tight skirt looked awfully good while she poured them brandy.  But instead of handing him the glass, she kept her back to him and said, "I'm not persuaded I should have a brandy.  I've indulged more than usual tonight, I'm afraid."

"Nothing to be afraid of.  You feel all right?"

"Unsettled, that's all.  Perhaps it's best for me not to drink anything more."

When she still didn't look at him, he knew it was time to clear the air.  "I can see how you'd be upset about Jeremy."

"Can you?"

"Sure.  I know the score.  David was a basket case afterwards, not worth a damn."

Now she turned on him.  "You're impertinent."

"Didn't mean it how it sounded, Lizzie.  I'm sorry.  I'm no good with words."

"And I'm rude.  Forgive me.  Talking about such things is difficult for everyone."

"Yeah, especially for somebody like me."  Might as well be honest.  No one taught him to be a gentleman and he shouldn't even think about coming on to somebody like her. "I never learned manners and I'm lousy with emotional stuff.  No point lying to you."

She hesitated but he saw a trace of a smile.  "Actually, Bobby, I like you.  But maybe it's too dangerous."

"Do I frighten you?"

"Should I be frightened?"

Probably, since he wanted to throw her over his shoulder like a Viking and find a comfortable place to get laid.

"Perhaps we should begin by getting to know one another better," she said.

"You sure you wanna know me better?"

"Yes and no."

"Tell me about the 'no' part, Elizabeth."

She let out a long, sexy, sigh and he relaxed.  "When the evening began, I thought I was ready to hop into bed with you, Bobby.  I'm not completely sure now, if you know what I mean.  But I'm fatally attracted."

Hot dang, he was too.  "Thanks for being upfront.  We can go slow if you like.  No point in causing stress.  See me again, though?"

"Yes, I'd like to.  I'm still vacillating about tonight to tell you the truth."

He couldn't help smiling.  "But it's just lust, huh?"

"No hard feelings then, Bobby."

"Just so you know, honey, I got something hard but it's not my feelings."

"My intent was never to tease you."

"Hey, I'm a big boy.  I can wait it out.  But for now I'm gonna kiss you and give you a taste of me.  Okay?"

He didn't wait for an answer.  He wrapped himself around her and let her feel the fullness that was Bobby Keane.  He took her mouth.  Her response was unrestrained and he wondered if he was gonna come without the act of sex.  Wow, this was one incredible lady to make him feel like this, and he reveled in the sensation, ready to shout for joy.  Whoa!  He pulled himself back a few inches and ended the kiss abruptly, before he did something he'd have to apologize for.

"That's as much as I can take, Lizzie.  I gotta go or I'm not gonna go.  And we need for me to go or we'll be sorry in the morning. Sorrier than now.  But there'll be more with us.  Count on it."

She gave him a wistful glance full of regret, and he knew he'd be back for more . . . the sooner the better.  Hell, he'd be back on her doorstep tomorrow at dawn if he didn't have to catch a plane with David.

***

Being awakened by sex before dawn was novel for Claire. David's physical fitness definitely translated into sexual stamina, and she had new appreciation for the sport of racquets.  And the wisdom to know she'd better buy an endless supply of condoms ASAP.

"Don't get up.  I'm late already, darling.  I'll call you later," he said.

"Safe travel."

She lay in bed until the vestibule door clicked shut, and then went downstairs in her robe to watch the sun come up in the morning room, holding close the memories of last night's holiday dinner, girding herself for the future.  Once she succeeded in her quest to solve Tivaz TB, and she would, dammit, her stay in his world would end and she'd go home.  Trouble was, Sherborne House had become home, and David had become family.  She refused to sugar coat it; the loss would be as wrenching as her scientific gain would be spectacular.  If I pull it off in time.

She headed to the kitchen intent on doing the dishes they'd stacked on the counter last night.  Why leave it for Maggie when she could take pleasure in adding to her bank of memories?  She soaked the Crest china in warm, not hot, soapy water and washed it with a light touch.  She searched the drawers for the softest dishtowels and began to dry the exquisite porcelain handed down through generations of Ruskins, examining his family coat of arms. She didn't own antique china but she had her own inheritance, her mother's Royal Doulton and Aunt Carrie's Spode china.  When she got back to the States she'd unearth them both, and use one set for formal dinners, the other for day-to-day.  Who was she kidding?  The likelihood her life would require formal and informal china was a joke, and there would be no children to save them for.  Tears welled and she snatched a spare dishtowel to dab the corners of her eyes.