Spiral of Bliss 03 Awaken (10 page)

“Can I help—” I start to say.

The back door bangs open, and Allie bustles in again. “Oh, hey, Dad.”

Dad?

Kelsey and I watch in astonishment as Allie and the man exchange a bear hug.

“Thanks for coming,” Allie says. “Did you meet Liv?”

“Not yet.” The man extends his hand to me and smiles. “Max Lyons. Allie’s father.”

I shake his hand in disbelief, stunned by the fact that not only is he quite young to have a twenty-seven-year-old daughter, he doesn’t look anything like I’d imagined.

From what Allie has told me, her father moved to one of the artsy neighborhoods on the other side of the lake, after Allie’s mother died years ago. Allie hadn’t wanted to ask him for more money to help with the bookstore or the café, and I’d assumed that was because he’d helped her out a lot already and didn’t have much money himself. In fact, I’d pictured Max Lyons as a long-haired hippie who wears frayed jeans and smells faintly of pot.

I did not picture a man who looks as if he’s just stepped from the pages of
GQ.

“And this is Kelsey March,” Allie tells her father. “She’s a professor at the university.”

“In which department?” Max Lyons asks, holding out his hand to Kelsey.

I can’t believe it. My majestic friend is standing there as if she’s just lost the ability to speak.

“Atmospheric sciences,” I pipe up, giving Kelsey a quick poke in the side.

“Uh, yeah.” She shakes Max’s hand, then takes a step toward the door. “Weather forecasting. Nice meeting you.”

“You too.”

“I asked Dad if he could stop by and give us his opinion about the building,” Allie tells me. “He’s an architect.”

“Oh.” Now things finally fall into place. “Well, that’s great.”

“Come on.” Allie tugs on Max’s sleeve. “I’ll tell you what we’re planning for the upstairs rooms. Liv, could you call Marianne and ask if she can stop by?”

“Sure.”

Kelsey and I walk to the front porch as I take out my cell and leave Marianne a quick voicemail.

Dean’s car pulls up to the curb. My heart gives a welcome, familiar leap as he approaches, his black peacoat buttoned against the cold. In contrast to his rumpled appearance this morning, he’s now wearing a tailored suit with a navy tie knotted at his throat. His thick, dark hair is brushed away from his forehead, emphasizing the masculine planes of his face.

Although I always love the sight of my handsome husband in full, distinguished-professor mode, now my pleasure is shadowed by a twinge of despair.

Dean brushes his lips across my cheek and turns to hug Kelsey.

“How long are you staying?” she asks, pulling her car keys from her pocket.

“Ten days.”

“Racquetball tomorrow, then?”

My stomach twists. Dean and Kelsey often work out together at the university gym, but with him not allowed to be on campus now…

“No, I’ve got stuff to do,” he tells her.

Kelsey glances at me, as if she senses something is up. Then she shrugs and goes down the steps to her car. I move closer to Dean, disliking the ever-present knowledge of what he has to contend with.

“When is the meeting?” I ask.

“Wednesday. I’m going into Forest Grove this afternoon to consult with a library board about their medieval manuscript collection.”

“What’s the Wednesday meeting about?”

“It’s a mediation meeting, see if we can come to some resolution so the case won’t go to the university board of trustees.” Dean gives me a reassuring smile that doesn’t ease the concern in his eyes. “Shouldn’t be too bad.”

He runs his hand over my hair and nods toward the café. “So tell me what you’ve got planned here.”

Pulling open the door, he steps aside to let me precede him. He takes his coat off, tossing it over a chair before unbuttoning his suit jacket.

I stop and do a double-take. Beneath his jacket, he’s wearing…

“Is that a
sweater vest?
” I ask in astonishment.

As if he’s forgotten, Dean looks down at the navy, buttoned vest he’s wearing over a gray shirt. “Yeah.”

“Since when do you wear sweater vests?”

“Since the girl at the store told me it looked good.”

I stare at him, struck by how a piece of clothing so dorky can make a man like Professor West look like… well, like
this.
With his hair burnished by the lights, the knot of his tie tucked against his collar, the sweater vest molding beautifully to his sculpted torso…

“That girl was right,” I admit.

“So you like it?” he asks.

I lean closer and whisper, “Makes me want to rub my naked body all over you.”

His eyes flare, and he strokes his thumb across my lips. “Hold that thought.”

“Keep that vest. It’s incredibly sexy on you.”

“You’re incredibly sexy on me too.”

I smile and stand on tiptoe to kiss him. Before I can ease away from him, he plants his hand on the small of my back and tugs me closer. His eyes fill with that combination of heat and tenderness that I know so well and have missed so much.

He brushes his thumb across my lower lip, sending a burst of sparks over my skin. My breath catches in my throat as he crowds me up against the wall and lowers his mouth to mine in a hot, heavy kiss that scorches my veins with desire.

I can’t help a small moan, my body going weak against the wall as Dean presses closer, his tongue seeking mine. I wind my hands around his neck, tucking my fingers into his hair as his kiss deepens and fills me with a thousand tiny fires. My sex throbs, my pulse kicking into gear. I fight the urge to slide my hands beneath his vest and unbutton his shirt, running my palms over the hard slopes of his chest—

“Ahem.”

I break away from Dean so fast the back of my head thunks against the wall. He moves in front of me, all effortless composure, and turns to greet Allie.

“Hey, Allie.”

“Well, well.” Allie’s voice brightens. “I didn’t know you were back, Dean.”

“Just for a few days.”

Allie introduces Dean to her father, which gives me a chance to regain my own composure before I emerge from behind Dean’s shoulder. Dean steps forward to talk to Max, as Allie approaches me with a sly grin.

“Sorry,” I mutter with embarrassment.

“No worries,” she replies, her eyes twinkling behind her glasses. “There’s a reason I call him Professor Hottie, you know.”

I pull Dean away from Max so I can give him a tour of the building and tell him all of our plans. He is gratifyingly impressed and supportive, though he doesn’t offer any ideas of his own. On purpose, I know. He’ll keep his word and stay out of it.

“It’s fantastic, Liv,” he tells me. “Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”

“We’re trying.” I hesitate. “But I’ve been worried about us having enough working capital. I mentioned it to Kelsey this afternoon, and she offered to partner with us.”

“That’s great.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I turned you down when you offered financial help. But a business partnership with Kelsey is different from me taking your money.”

“Liv, you wouldn’t be taking my money. Everything I own is yours too.”

“But this is a business. I need to treat it like one. Which means partnership agreements and budgeting, and not taking money out of our personal accounts just because it would be the easiest thing to do.”

Dean studies me for a second, then nods.

“Okay,” he says. “I get it.”

My slight anxiety eases. “Good. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” He shakes his head, faint amusement flashing in his eyes. “You’re the one going into business with a pit viper.”

I smile. “More like a pit bull, don’t you think?”

“That too.”

After we return downstairs, Dean and Max, to neither Allie’s nor my surprise, begin talking about the history of architecture from the Coliseum to Frank Lloyd Wright. Their conversation then turns to the findings of the Altopascio dig, major-league spring training, a recent state senate bill, and finally this awesome bacon burger Max had at a new restaurant in Rainwood.

“How cute,” Allie whispers to me, nodding to where Dean and Max are standing by the front counter. “They’re BFFs already.”

It is pretty cute watching these two tall, handsome men discussing manly things. I think it’s kind of hot, too, though I don’t tell Allie that.

After another half hour, I walk with Dean back out to his car so he can head to Forest Grove.

He opens the car door, then turns to kiss me. His mouth, warm and firm, lingers on mine as he cups the side of my face in his palm. Before I can lose myself in his kiss again, he eases away to look at me.

“Six,” he murmurs, his eyes darkening with heat. “Be ready for me.”

“I am ready for you,” I breathe, as shivers shoot through my veins and settle between my legs.

“Be
more
ready.” He brushes his fingers across my cheek and turns to get into his car.

I watch him go, thinking all those medieval knights had nothing compared to the intense, sexy chivalry of Dean West.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Olivia

hen I get home, there’s a box wrapped in brown paper outside the front door. The name
Mrs. Olivia West
is scrawled in Dean’s familiar handwriting. With a smile, I bring the box inside and lift off the lid to reveal a clutter of puzzle pieces.

I dump the pieces onto the floor and start putting the puzzle together. Halfway to completion, I know what it is. An upwelling of love and emotion fills me.

I lock the last piece of the puzzle into place and stare at the photograph of me and Dean on our honeymoon in front of the Saint-Chapelle chapel in Paris. I grab my phone to call him, but his voicemail picks up. A text message from him buzzes a few seconds later.

Forty-five minutes.

I hurry to shower and dress in a purple, flower-print bra and matching hiphuggers under a fitted slip. I zip myself into a black sheath dress with a lace overlay, taking extra care with my hair and makeup.

I open the front door when I hear the foyer door snap closed. I step onto the landing just as Dean looks up.

A sizzle of energy arcs between us. My pulse zings through my veins at the sight of him—tall and handsome in a navy suit beneath his black coat. His hair gleams in the foyer lights, and a smile curves his mouth as he walks up the stairs to me, extending a bouquet of a dozen perfect red roses.

“Thank you.” I take the bouquet, the flowers’ perfume filling the air.

“If I’d thought about it earlier, I’d have recited a poem or something too.” Dean stops in front of me, his gaze filled with appreciation. “You’re so damned beautiful.”

“That’s all the poetry I need.” I stand on tiptoe to press my lips against his cheek. The scent of him slides into my blood—a hint of spicy aftershave mingling with the crisp night air.

“I love the puzzle,” I tell him.

“Good. One day soon I’ll take you to Paris again.” He tilts his head toward the street. “Ready?”

“Let me put the flowers in water and get my coat.” I gesture for him to come inside, while I go into the kitchen to find a vase.

After arranging the roses, I bring the bouquet into the living room. Dean is standing by the window, his hands in his pockets. The sight of him back in our apartment, right where he belongs, warms me down to my toes. With the town lights shining behind him, he’s so breathtakingly handsome that my heart does a little flip of happiness at the knowledge that he’s mine. All mine.

I set the vase on the coffee table and fuss a little more with the arrangement of the roses.

“Your peace lily bloomed,” Dean says.

“What?” I glance up.

“Your peace lily.” He tilts his head toward the open flower. “It’s pretty.”

I smile, pleased that he noticed. “It’s the same kind of plant I gave you that first time I went to your place for dinner.”

“I remember.” Warmth brews in his eyes as he returns his gaze to me. “That plant thrived because you took care of it the whole year.”

“And I thrived because you took care of me the whole year.”

Dean looks at me for a minute, then shakes his head. “Ah, Liv…”

I go to slide my arms around his waist, loving the hard press of his body against mine. He takes my hips in his hands, a murmur of pleasure rumbling from his chest as our lips meet.

“Let’s go, beauty,” he whispers, trailing his lips to my neck. “If we don’t leave now, my plan will be shot to hell.”

I laugh and untangle myself from him. We get our coats and walk to his car, and I’m so caught up in being with him again, breathing the same air, feeling the warmth of his presence beside me, that it’s a good half hour before I realize we’re heading out of Mirror Lake and up into the mountains.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“You’ll see.”

It’s a cloudy, crisp evening with reddish clouds skimming the mountaintops. Dean guides the car over a narrow road toward a domed building sitting on the crest of a ridge.

“The observatory?” I don’t quite get it. “What are we doing here?”

“Dating.” He winks at me and offers me his arm.

With a smile, I slide my hand into the crook of his elbow as we walk toward the entrance to the building. There’s a truck parked nearby, though I can’t see the lettering on the side of it. Dean holds the door open for me, and we walk into the hushed silence of the lobby.

He pulls open the auditorium door, and all the breath escapes my lungs at the sight of the silent room lit by a million brilliant stars spread over the arched ceiling. Soft music plays from hidden speakers. It’s a singular, private universe, the stars and planets contained within this space, and for this moment, it’s all ours.

“How did you manage this?” I ask as Dean takes my hand and leads me to a cloth-covered table set up on the stage.

“Pulled a few strings,” he replies. “Closest I could get to giving you the universe.”

I smile. “Good one.”

“Wait here.”

A bouquet of spring flowers blooms on the table, which is set with china plates and wineglasses. A candle flickers, but the light can’t compete with the illumination of the stars. Dean returns a few minutes later with two delicious-smelling filet mignon dinners from the catering truck parked outside.

And under the dome of our own private universe, we spend a lovely hour eating and talking. My eyes keep straying to Dean’s mouth, the curve of his hand around his fork, the way the starlight glows off his hair.

I’m reminded anew of our very first date, which included our first kiss. Even now, my body tingles at the memory of the heat filling Dean’s eyes as he’d taken my face so gently in his hands.

“I’m going to kiss you now,”
he’d whispered, a second before our lips touched in a kiss that spun me into a whirlwind of knowing I could love this man.

That one day…
I would.

Never before had I been so certain of my own instincts, and that knowledge has brought us to now.

After dinner, Dean spreads out a blanket on the stage and we lie back to look up at the stars sprinkled like sugar across the sky. Dean points out all the constellations and starts talking about medieval cosmology and philosophy. His deep voice flows over me, and I ease closer to him so our bodies touch.

“I wish it could be like this forever,” I whisper. “Just us and the stars.”

A faint apprehension ripples between us because we know it can’t be. Not with the threat to his career looming over us like smoke obscuring the sky.

But none of that can touch us here. It can’t obscure the beauty of our reunion.

Dean pushes to his feet, extending a hand to help me up. A little shudder runs through me at the heat in his eyes. We gather our things and return to the parking lot.

“Now.” Dean bends to nuzzle my neck right before opening the car door for me. “Come back with me. Be mine all over again.”

There is nothing in the universe I want more. Everything inside me lights with anticipation as we return to the Wildwood Inn.

When the cottage door closes behind us, my heartbeat intensifies. It’s been weeks of fraught, tense longing, our sexy phone calls no comparison to what we can create when we’re in the same room. Arousal blooms inside me, filling my veins with fire.

Dean leans against the door, his gold-flecked eyes sweeping over me in a slow, easy appraisal that makes my breath catch. I’m half-expecting him to stalk toward me with all that restrained lust uncoiling, to grab me in a wild fervor… but instead he gestures for me to come to him.

“Come here, beauty,” he says, his voice husky. “Give me what I’ve missed so much.”

My pulse pounds as I approach him. He lifts his hands and settles them against the back of my neck, his fingers sliding into my hair. The gentle way he holds my head, his gaze never leaving mine, wraps me in the knowledge of how precious I am to him. Everything inside me softens as I look at the lines of his cheekbones, his black eyebrows, the way his eyelashes frame his eyes, the shape of his mouth.

He lowers his head, his lips touching mine in a kiss of infinite warmth and tenderness, and then we’re both home again, back in the place of Liv and Dean, sparks lighting the air as we fall into the spiral of us.

Dean shifts his hands, angling my head so that he can settle his mouth securely against mine, parting my lips with his. My blood surges with a love that will never fade and a desire that has been denied too long. I slip my arms around his waist, feeling the heat of him through the material of his suit and my dress.

He murmurs something low in his throat, caressing the arch of my back and down to my hips. I nestle closer, light glowing inside me like a million fireflies as our kiss deepens. My heart pounds against his. It’s everything we’ve both craved all these weeks—the movement of our lips pressed together, the grip of his hands on my hips, my breasts rubbing against his chest.

Dean lifts one hand to my neck again, pushing my hair aside so he can unzip my dress. I let the material slither over my shoulders and fall in a puddle at my feet. I’m wearing a fitted satin slip over my lingerie, and Dean’s breath escapes in a rush as he slides his gaze over my body again.

“Beauty, you make me want to stop time so I can look at you forever,” he whispers as he pulls me closer.

He cups my breasts, his thumbs flicking over my hardening nipples, and my sex clenches with growing urgency. I lift my face to his again, desperate for more of his exhilarating kisses, and then he tucks his arm beneath my legs and lifts me against him. I twine my arms around his neck, bringing our mouths together again as he takes a few strides to the bed and lowers me onto the feather-soft quilt.

For all our pent-up longing and sexy talk, for all my expectations that we would fall on each other in a crash of frenzied heat… a lovely sense of restraint winds through us both. Dean eases on top of me, our lips still locked together.

The weight of my husband’s body, combined with the deliciousness of his kiss, envelops me in a warm, protective shelter. I run my hands over his back and part my legs so he can settle between them. His erection presses against my thigh, the sensation eliciting a new wave of lust.

Dean moves his lips across my cheek, his breath a hot trail to my ear. Tension rolls through his body as he tangles his fingers into the straps of my slip and pulls them off my shoulders. I shift to help him, thrilled by the way his gaze darkens as he stares at my breasts clad in the flowered purple bra.

He growls low in his throat with appreciation before moving to press his mouth against the swells of my breasts, tugging the slip down around my waist. The touch of his lips and hands on my bare skin fires my whole body with heat.

I spear my hands into his thick hair as he tugs at the top edges of my bra to expose my breasts. He groans and takes one nipple between his teeth, rolling his tongue around the areola. Sparks rain through my blood. With a gasp, I shift and arch to rub against his erection.

“Oh, Dean… Touch me, please…”

His response is muffled against my skin as he moves to kiss my neck, the hollow of my throat where my pulse beats. He tugs the slip off me and tosses it to the floor. When he eases his forefinger beneath my panties and into my slit, my body flames.