Road to Seduction (Kimani Romance) (14 page)

The anxious-looking groom, his attendants and the minister, all very handsome in their white suits, waited under the arch, and the air hummed with the excitement of waiting.

Isabella’s body, on the other hand, hummed with the thrill of Eric’s attention. She arranged the filmy skirt of her dress and pretended she didn’t feel the heat of Eric’s gaze on her face and bare legs or the warmth of his adoration shining in his eyes. If she looked at him now, with her heart so full and light, she would…she would…

“Isabella,” he said on a sigh so quiet she doubted she’d really heard it.

The stroke of his fingers across the base of her neck derailed her thoughts and renewed the quiver deep in her belly. A bolt of intense pleasure shot through her, as stunning as an orgasm but somehow more devastating because of his unspeakable tenderness.

She tried to pay attention to the proceedings. The smiling bridesmaids, most of whom were classmates of theirs from Princeton, filed by in their pink slip dresses and tried to look dignified and not squeal when they spotted Isabella and Eric. Next came the little flower girl and ring-bearer—Isabella had no idea whose children they were, but they were adorable—and then, finally, came Terri.

The glowing bride glided down the aisle in a white slip dress and short veil, her feet barely touching the path strewn with rose petals. When she made it to Frank, the groom, he took her hand and kissed it. The two of them giggled like children on the playground and then turned to the minister, who grinned indulgently and opened his prayer book.

The ceremony was quick, easy and casual, not much more than the vows and a song or two. It was over almost before it had started, and then Terri and Frank were rushing back up the aisle in a shower of pink and white flower petals.

Cheering and laughing, the crowd followed them to the pool area, which was decorated with ten or twelve candlelit tables set for dinner. Isabella was still laughing when she and Eric found a quiet spot near the rail and waited for their friends to catch up with them.

“That was sooo beautiful!” Feeling very effusive and emotional, Isabella stared out at the water and brushed her hair back out of her face. “I was a little worried about it raining or sand blowing or something, but I really think that was one of the—”

“I’m in love with you,” Eric said.

Isabella gasped and whipped her head back around to stare at Eric, her hand frozen by her ear, not at all certain he’d said what she thought she’d heard.

But the second she looked at him, she knew. His face had acquired a ruddy flush that she didn’t think had anything to do
with the sun, and he looked utterly serious and utterly vulnerable, as though he didn’t want to be in love with her, much less tell her about it, but just couldn’t stop the words from coming.

Oh, my God,
she thought, feeling miserable and ecstatic and every variation in between all at the same time.
Oh, my God
.

When she said nothing, he took one step closer and smoothed that flyaway curl behind her ear for her. Then, with absolute attention, he trailed his fingers across her cheek, down her neck, and across the tops of her heaving breasts. Still she couldn’t move. Finally his gaze flickered back up to her face and she saw the hint of moisture in his crystal brown eyes and heard the depths of his emotion in the hoarse whisper of his voice.

“You’re everything to me, and I can’t…I can’t breathe with wanting you so much.” He paused and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I didn’t mean to tell you like this, and I don’t know why it happened or how it happened so quickly and I know you’re not ready to hear it, but, yeah…”

Overcome, he paused to clear his throat.

“I’m in love with you, Isabella.”

O
nce the initial euphoria of telling Isabella how he felt had subsided a little, Eric’s heart fell with the kind of sickening thud that made people reach for the phone to call 9-1-1. Her expression wasn’t the
I love you, too, Eric
look he’d foolishly been hoping for, and her ongoing speechlessness could only be attributed to one thing: horror.

Stupid idiot
. Why did he tell her?
Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Well, he knew why. It was because he
did
love her. Probably always had on some subconscious level that he was only now recognizing.

In seventeen years he hadn’t made a major decision, suffered a loss or defeat, or celebrated an emotional high without sharing it with Isabella. For his entire adult life he’d relied on her common sense, wisdom and humor. He’d needed her smiles, advice and presence, needed her reaction to events in his life so he’d know how he should react. She’d been the first person he called when he got into business school, the first person he told
when he became CEO, the first person he consulted for advice when his parents drove him crazy.

She was his touchstone, his rock. Had been since college.

So yeah, he loved her. Wanted her. Needed her. Would marry her, if she only said the word, and to hell with his fears about marriage and disaster going hand in hand. With Isabella as his wife, he couldn’t fail.

But…it didn’t look like she’d be agreeing to marriage anytime soon.

The moment stretched between them, bypassing awkward and heading straight for excruciating. He was just beginning to wonder if he should launch himself over the rail and hope the fall to the beach below was enough to at least knock him unconscious for a couple of hours, when the bride distracted them.

Terri, newly married and floating with happiness, had picked this moment to play the gracious hostess.
Lucky him
. Back at Princeton she’d been the biggest yakker on campus and Eric thought it was pretty unlikely that the years had changed her any.

Not picking up on any social cues whatsoever despite his desperate subliminal message—
We’re talking here!
—she shrieked and opened her arms.

“Eric! Izzy! Oh, my GOD, I can’t BELIEVE it’s you!”

Yeah,
Eric thought.
Still a yakker
.

He cringed but at this point there was no avoiding her or any of their other friends and they had, after all, come to the wedding to give the happy couple their best wishes. So he dredged up a painful smile, submitted to the woman’s hug and kissed her cheek.

“Here’s the beautiful bride. How are you, Terri?”

“Well, one of the caterers bumped into the cake and smashed one side of the bottom layer, but they covered it up with some flowers. Oh, and my cousin’s flight got delayed—weather out of Chicago, can you believe it?—so I think she’s sitting on the tarmac somewhere. But I’m fine other than that—” here she paused long enough to pull free of Eric, take a deep breath and hug Izzy, who still looked shell-shocked “—and you two look GREAT! Wasn’t the wedding BEAUTIFUL? Could we have PICKED a better day?”

Isabella finally recovered her voice although she now had two enormous patches of color on her cheeks. “It’s so good to see you. You look
gorgeous
. I’m so happy for you.”

“And YOU!” Terri snagged Isabella’s hand with her left one and Eric’s with her right. Taking one step back, she surveyed them like a proud matchmaker. “Finally got together, didn’t you? I KNEW it! I saw you during the ceremony!”

If and when he and Izzy got married, Eric thought, the last thing he’d be doing would be watching the guests in the pews to see who was getting with whom.

“Well,” Isabella began uncomfortably.

“Did you finally put away your playa’s handbook, Eric?” Terri winked at him.

Eric wondered if it would be wrong to wring a bride’s neck on her wedding day.

“I don’t want to hear anything about you stepping out on this girl, okay?” Terri asked. “You know what? I’ll be expecting some VERY GOOD NEWS from you VERY SOON.”

Terri looked over her shoulder to signal Frank, who was greeting other guests a few feet away. Dropping Isabella’s hand, Terri flapped her arm at her husband, looking like half a bird trying to take flight. “Frank? FRANK!”

Poor Frank,
Eric thought. If the brother was having second thoughts about spending the rest of his life with this black Edith Bunker, it was too late now. But Frank just smiled happily and hurried over to his wife’s side.

“These two finally got together, Frank.” Terri angled her face for Frank’s kiss, the epitome of newlywed bliss. “I’m betting they’re going to be the next ones to get married. Izzy, you stand right up front when I throw the bouquet, OKAY? I’m throwing it RIGHT to you, for luck.”

“Good idea,” Eric murmured on impulse, serious. “Throw it to Izzy.”

Astonished silence surrounded him on all sides.

He didn’t know what had made him say it and at this point it didn’t matter. All he knew was that if he was in for a penny he
was in for a pound, so why not raise the stakes? He wanted Isabella. Wanted all of her and wanted her for the rest of their lives. Why stammer and hedge?

Three surprised gazes swung around to look at him, but Isabella’s was the only one he saw. She looked flushed and stunned—breathless. Most of all she looked unhappy, and that almost killed him.

But it didn’t deter him.

He would get to the bottom of her issue. Come hell or high water he would figure it out and nothing would keep him from her. Not South Africa, his unfortunate Warner legacy of unhappy marriages nor Izzy’s own fears.

Nothing
.

Satisfied that he had Isabella’s attention and had put her on notice, Eric realized that he was hungry and thirsty. Goodness knew he needed to keep his strength up to deal with the fight to come. Looking around, he found the bar in one far corner of the deck and saw that it was fully stocked.
Thank goodness
.

“Champagne anyone?” he asked, walking off. “I’m parched.”

The reception passed in a blur of crab cakes, mahi-mahi and mango chutney something-or-other, none of which Isabella tasted even though she put it all in her mouth.

All she knew was that someone—probably Eric—steered her to their table, sat her in the chair in front of the place card with her name on it and pointed her to a fork. After that she ate blindly and mindlessly, made lame small talk with the couples on either side and tried not to stare across the table at Eric.

At the first possible opportunity, just as the servers were clearing the dinner plates, she fell back on one of her favorite excuses—walking the dog—left the table, and took Zeus down to the beach where she could think.

Leaving her strappy stilettos at the bottom of the steps from the deck, she walked along the water’s edge and watched the pink sunset, too upset even to stop Zeus from splashing in the waves and ruining his little bow tie with the salt and spray.

Eric was in love with her. Eric had hinted that…he wanted to marry her.

And she’d never been more terrified in her life.

Her emotions had developed multiple personalities on her, wavering between devastation and elation with devastation winning by a mile. Because she could never marry—not anyone and
especially
not Eric—and now she would have to tell Eric why. Once she did, she would lose his love. It was inevitable.

To her surprise, there were a lot of doubts she didn’t have; somewhere along the way, probably after his absolute tenderness and worship last night, her fears had evaporated. He said he loved her and she believed him.

Maybe she was just flat-out stupid—Eric wasn’t exactly the ideal candidate for a long-term, monogamous relationship, after all—but she took him at his word. There had been too much adoration in his eyes and his touch for the last few days, too much emotion for her to doubt his feelings.

True, he’d never been in love before, but so what?

That didn’t mean he couldn’t love
now
.

She, on the other hand, had been in love, or what she’d
thought
was love, twice before, and she’d been wrong. No other experience in her life, no relationship, no lover, compared in any way to her feelings about Eric. There wasn’t even a close second.

Nor did she doubt that he wanted to marry her, or that he’d be a faithful husband. Eric didn’t do things halfway and he wouldn’t promise anything he couldn’t deliver. Yeah, she’d have to fend off the constant onslaught of hoochies trying to hit on him if she married him, but the thought, strangely, didn’t bother her.

Eric was too handsome, too special, too incredible for other women not to notice. But he loved Isabella and, if she married him—which she
wouldn’t,
she would make him so happy there’d never be an opening for another woman to creep through. Isabella would make sure of it.

But…children of his own.

Eric wanted them. How many kids had she seen him cuddle
and play with over the years? Baby Andy, all her nieces and nephews and countless other kids—Eric welcomed them all, loved them all.

He deserved his own family and that was the one thing she could never give him. And regardless of how much she loved him and how lonely she’d be without him, she could not doom him to life without holding his own child in his arms. She just couldn’t do it.

Zeus, who’d been splashing several feet out and yapping at a few seagulls who were foolish enough to fly low overhead, came back, shook his coat dry and sat at her feet. As always when she was feeling bad, he studied her with those soulful brown eyes, looking concerned.

Emotions choked her throat and pooled in her eyes, threatening to bubble over in a sob because this one silly dog would soon be all she had left and was the closest thing she’d ever have to a child of her own.

“Isabella?”

Startled, she swiped her eyes and turned to see the poorly-timed arrival of the one person who could make this night worse. Alphonso Grant, her college love approached with a hesitant half smile on his face.

Her first surprised thoughts were that he’d changed, and not for the better. He was unpleasantly plump now. His fair skin had that sunny flush that everyone acquired when they visited Florida, but the dimples that framed his mouth when she last saw him all those years ago had turned to grooves.

Maybe it was catty of her to notice, but his dark hair had thinned through the temples and would soon be a full-fledged bald spot. He’d shaved his mustache and she had the uncharitable thought that his thin upper lip needed it back, but, really, she’d long stopped caring enough about him to think any thoughts about him, charitable or otherwise.

“Al.” Years of Mama Jo’s politeness training kicked in and Isabella dredged up a welcoming smile when what she really wanted to do was ask him to leave her alone. “How are you? Terri didn’t mention that you’d be here.”

He hesitated and then leaned in to brush her cheek with his dry lips. She wasn’t quite sure what the protocol was for greeting first loves—somewhere between a handshake and a hug, she supposed—but this seemed appropriate. He gave her the full smile and it tugged at something deep inside her, something long-buried and nostalgic, but mostly she felt surprise that she’d ever thought this man was so handsome. Compared to Eric’s prince, Al was definitely the frog.

“We got a cheap last-minute flight, so here we are.”

“We?”
she asked out of faint curiosity. “Are you married?”

“Yeah.” At the mere mention of his wife, he began to glow. This, too, tugged at Isabella’s heart, but not the way she’d thought it would years ago when he left her, heartbroken and alone, to wonder why he didn’t love her. “We live in Boston now. I’m a day trader. She’s a dermatologist.”

“That’s wonderful,” she said, meaning it.

“And you’re with Eric, huh?” Something in his expression tightened, grew darker. “I knew that would happen sooner or later.”

There was no way she’d discuss Eric with him. “I should get back.”

“Izzy.”
Urgent now, he put a restraining hand on her arm even though she hadn’t yet moved away. His voice dropped, becoming choked and husky. “I think about…
everything,
and—”

“Don’t.”
Alarmed, she backed away because she absolutely could not deal with this now.

“—I think about it a lot and I want you to know that I’m
sorry
.”

Isabella gaped at him, sudden anger almost blinding her, and let him have it the way she should have back then. Then, she snapped.

“Sorry?
Sorry?
Well. How nice. Doesn’t that just make everything okay after all these years? You decide you’re
sorry
so now everything’s magically supposed to be right with the world? Is that it?” Her voice was low and deep, wounded.

All the old anger rose up, making her cheeks hot and her vision blurry. There’d been times, over the years, when she’d imagined this scene, pictured herself slapping him, spitting on
him or sweetly telling him to go to hell when he begged her for a second chance. The thought of him suffering and feeling one-millionth as bad as she’d felt had gotten her through many long nights of crying all those years ago.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“You hurt me,” she whispered. “Do you get that? Do you have any idea how long it took me to recover from what you did to me? You weren’t there for me. You didn’t support me. I couldn’t lean on you for one damn thing. Do you even care that you said you loved me and then abandoned me?”

“Yes, I care. I’m ashamed of myself. Please forgive me, Izzy.” He passed a hand over his wet eyes and she was surprised to see it tremble. “I need you to forgive me.”