What Lies Beneath (6 page)

Around the time she finished reading, she heard Will at the door. Leaping from the couch, she rounded the corner to meet him just as he stepped inside. He looked at the expression on her face and then turned to the kitchen, where the large box was still sitting.

“I see it arrived.”

“It did!” she exclaimed. “Did you buy it for me? It’s wonderful.”

“I ordered it this morning. They assured me it was the best you could buy and that they’d deliver it today.”

Without hesitation, she put her arms around him, hugging him tightly and kissing him. Her intent had been to say thank-you, but once her lips met his, her plans unraveled. Will snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her tight against him. He had been distant since their last kiss and she’d thought maybe he wasn’t interested, but there were no doubts once his tongue slid across hers and his fingers pressed hungrily into her flesh.

It felt so good in his arms. So…
right
…unlike everything else in her life. Most days, she felt like a body snatcher, wearing Cynthia Dempsey and her life like a skin. Nothing felt real or normal except sketching clothes and being with Will. Certainly taking another chance with Will was the right choice.

Pulling back at last, she said, “Thank you.” She just knew her face was turning beet-red from being pressed so firmly against the full length of his body. It made her feel self-conscious.

Will didn’t seem to notice. “You’re welcome,” he said with a devious smile. “If I’d known you’d react like this, I would’ve bought it two years ago. Or at least last week.”

Cynthia smiled awkwardly at his statement, still wrapped tightly in his arms. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to let go or to pull her closer and kiss her again. “I…I’ve been reading up on how to use it,” she stuttered.

He held on for a moment longer before releasing her to take a few steps back. “Already studying?”

The short distance was enough to clear her head and return her focus to the topic at hand. “Yes, I think I could have it up and running by tomorrow morning. Do you think we could take a little field trip tonight? I’d love to get some supplies to play with. Fabric, thread, maybe some buttons?”

Will let his computer bag drop to the floor and shuffled out of his jacket. “We can. I was actually thinking I would take you out for dinner tonight anyway. We can go by the fabric store on the way. Just let me change out of this suit.”

Cynthia prepared quickly, knowing most fabric stores would be closing soon. He changed and they grabbed a taxi to whisk them to the Garment District. They took the old-fashioned elevator up to Mood, and she entered it like she would a sacred cathedral. Will loitered near the entrance doing business on his phone while she disappeared into the three stories of fabrics.

Triumphant, she greeted him a half hour later with a large black Mood bag filled with everything she might need. The dress form that wouldn’t fit in the sack would be delivered tomorrow. One of the employees had helped her, making sure she had all the basics, and gave her a good idea of what to do with them.

It was all very exciting. She had this surge of energy she hadn’t had since the accident. It was like the world had opened up to new possibilities. Fate had closed the door on her past, but as the operator slid open the metal grate of the elevator door, it was like he was opening a window to her exhilarating new future.

“Did you buy out the store?” Will asked, pushing open the downstairs door as she breezed past him.

“Not today. Maybe next week.”

“It’s good to have goals,” he said with a laugh. “Are you ready for dinner?”

“Yes,” she said. Lunch had worn off long ago, but she’d been too wrapped up in her new sewing machine to notice.

“There’s a steakhouse a few blocks east of here that I’ve been wanting to try. Does that sound okay?”

“Sounds great.”

Will took her bag and carried it for her as they made their way to the restaurant. As they stepped inside, Cynthia immediately felt underdressed and stopped dead in her tracks. The dark restaurant had paneled walls and deep burgundy tablecloths, delicately folded napkins and enough flatware to confuse an etiquette expert. Her slacks and sweater just didn’t seem up to par. Will had to nudge her forward so the door could close behind them.

“This place is too nice,” she whispered.

“You’re fine,” he assured, pushing her toward the maître d’s desk. “Two, please.”

Cynthia followed the two men through the restaurant to their table. They were seated at a secluded two-top in a corner where they wouldn’t be disturbed by other diners. The waiter was obviously under the impression that they were on a date. It certainly didn’t feel like one. At least not with Will eyeballing his cell phone again instead of his menu.

“Would you like to try one of our fine wine selections this evening?” the waiter asked when he arrived.

Will put his phone aside and looked expectantly to her, but she didn’t know what to say. He’d mentioned before that she liked to drink wine, but she was really just craving a tall, cold glass of Diet Coke. So she said so.

Will nodded. “A Diet Coke for the lady and a merlot for me, please.”

Once the server was gone, Cynthia tried to focus on the menu. There were so many things she hadn’t tried yet, but there’d been almost nothing she hadn’t liked. Except brussel sprouts. She had to remember to tell Anita that before she made them again. Tonight, however, she decided on a surf and turf to sample a few new items at once.

When the ordering was done and they were left alone with their drinks, Cynthia noticed for the first time how romantic the restaurant was, especially their quiet little alcove. A large stone hearth contained a fire that roared on one wall, the warm lighting casting everything in a golden glow. She hoped it would do wonders for her skin tone, which still wasn’t quite back to the perfect cream it once was. It certainly looked good on Will. The flickering of the fire sent shadows across the angular planes of his face and darkened his hair to a deep mahogany color. The flames reflected in his eyes as he watched her intently from across the table.

She drew in a ragged breath, her tongue darting across her lips to moisten them. His gaze dipped down to her lips for a moment and back to her eyes with a small smile. The heat of his stare made her intensely aware of her whole body. And his. The button-down shirt he’d changed into was dark green. It strained across his chest and shoulders, the hard muscles underneath fighting to be free of the restraint. Being pressed against him earlier had set her imagination wild. She wanted to know how those bare muscles would twitch under her hands. Or how the wall of his chest would feel when her breasts flattened hard against him.

“This place is very nice,” she said, reaching for her soda and taking a large sip to moisten her suddenly dry throat.

“It is,” he agreed, sitting back in his chair. “I’m glad we decided to try it.”

“How was work?” Cynthia desperately sought out a topic of conversation that wouldn’t make her think of touching Will and fisted her hands under the table to keep from reaching out to him.

“Busy, as usual. I saw your father today.”

That would definitely cool her ardor. “Yes, Mother mentioned he was going to see you. How is he?”

“Good. We were going over the finer details of our product collaboration. It should be ready to launch in the spring.”

“What are you two doing, exactly?”

“We’re working on e-reader technology. His people have managed to create a touch screen so light, thin and cheap that before long, everyone will have one. We’re hoping to even give them away with long-term e-subscriptions to the paper.”

“Is your paper having trouble?”

“No, we’re still performing well, but a lot of other papers aren’t. It’s all about the internet these days. I added online subscriptions a few years back, but I think e-readers are really the next big thing in the publishing industry. I want the
Observer
and Dempsey Corp. at the front of the surge. To take my company to the next level as a top-tier performer. It’s what I’ve fought for years to do.”

Cynthia nodded, although she had no real idea what it was all about. She loved the feel of a book in her hand, and it would take time before she would be willing to give that up to a gadget. But it sounded promising for the two companies. A big boost in the industry. Maybe if he climbed that peak, he’d be willing to sit back for a while and enjoy the view for once. She doubted it, though.

“Is that why we were getting married?”

Will paused, his glass in midair. “It’s not why I proposed to you, no.”

“But it’s why you stuck around even though I was difficult.”

“We both had our reasons for getting married, even if they were misguided.”

“I would think that it was just good business, working together. Why do you have to marry me to seal the deal?”

“It’s not like that,” Will insisted. “My proposal had nothing to do with your father’s company. That all came later. Just an incentive to stick things out when you became—to use your word—
difficult
. Your father prefers to work with family. When I broke off our engagement, I did it knowing that this project could be dead in the water the minute he found out.”

“If this second try doesn’t work out between us, will it hurt your company?”

“No, it won’t hurt us. But it won’t help either.”

“I could talk to him. I mean, I’m the reason we broke up. He shouldn’t penalize you and your employees because of something I did.”

“That’s a very sweet offer, but I don’t think I’m in need of any of your heroics just yet.”

Will reached across the table to take her hand into his own. The warmth of him enveloped her and radiated up her arm like sinking into a hot bath. His thumb stroked across her knuckles in slow circles, sending the tiny hairs on the back of her neck to attention. She wanted to close her eyes and lose herself in the sensation of his touch, but his gaze had her pinned in her seat.

“What makes you think this second try won’t work?” he asked with a devilish smile that almost convinced her it would.

Almost.

Five

“Y
ou
kissed
her?”

Alex’s disbelieving shout no doubt cut through the walls of Will’s office and into the hallways of the
Observer
headquarters.

“Keep it down, will you? I deliberately employ some very nosy people around here, and not all of them are journalists. My admin is at the top of the gossip food chain.”

Will got up from his desk and pushed his office door closed, flipping the lock to prevent interruptions.

“What’s the gossip in you kissing your fiancée?”

“Well, for a start, she isn’t my fiancée anymore.”

Alex sat down in Will’s guest chair. “Yes, but only I know about the breakup. Last time we talked you seemed pretty certain you were out of there once she was back on her feet. What changed?”

Will sat down at his desk and leaned back, weaving his fingers behind his head. “Nothing. And everything.”

“I knew it. I knew when I saw that grin on your face at dinner that she’d gotten to you.”

Will wasn’t sure he liked the implication of that, but he had a hard time denying that she’d gotten under his skin. “I’ve never been this preoccupied with a woman before.”

“So you’re staying?”

“No. Yes. For the time being. Even if she woke up tomorrow with the temperament of a pit bull, I’m riding this out until she’s recovered. We’ve agreed to start fresh and see what happens, but I still have reservations. This just spells long-term disaster.”

“Then why did you kiss her?”

Will sighed. “Because I wanted to. And I haven’t really wanted to kiss her in a long time. There is suddenly this chemistry between us. This electricity whenever I’m close to her. It’s nothing like we ever had before. It’s as though I’m with a completely different woman. A brand new relationship with someone who’s soft and sweet and gentle. I mean, she giggles, Alex.”

A blond brow shot up, curious. “Cynthia giggled?”

“More than once. At first, she was sort of lost, trying to feel her way around, but now that she’s got her bearings, she’s full of excitement and joy. It’s like she’s got a new lease on life. I like being around her. I’m happy when she’s happy. I bought her a damn sewing machine.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I thought she’d like it, and I was right. She’s cleared out her office of advertising junk and has been merrily plugging away at making clothes.”

“Is that what she’s going to do now?”

“I guess. She can’t exactly go back to the ad agency and fake it. I encouraged her to do what inspired her, and this is the direction she took. It makes her happy.”

Alex nodded. “Which makes you happy. So what’s the big deal, then?”

“It’s all wrong!” Will shouted, slamming his fist into his desk. Hitting something let out some of the aggression he had pent up inside. His gut was a swirling mix of untapped sexual energy, confusion and frustration with no outlet. “She’s sucking me back in when all I wanted was to get out. It almost makes me wonder if she’s doing it on purpose. When I broke it off, she was insistent that we could work things out. Cynthia didn’t want the embarrassment of calling off the engagement. She wouldn’t even take off her ring because she said we’d talk when she got home. What if she’s trying to trick me into staying by faking this whole thing?”

“You mean pretending she has amnesia?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her. I couldn’t trust her then, and I’m still not sure I can trust her now. All she did was lie to me for more than a year.”

“She nearly died in a plane crash. Not even Cynthia could premeditate a plan like that.”

Will frowned at Alex, his argument instantly deflating because he knew his friend was right. He was being paranoid. Letting his past distrust of Cynthia cloud his judgment. Of course she couldn’t have set this up, but somehow it was easier to be suspicious of her than to let himself trust her. “Ah, hell. What a mess I’ve made of things.”

Alex stood and went over to the small bar where Will kept his stash of water, soda and Scotch. “Want a drink?” he asked.

“No, help yourself,” Will said.

Alex poured himself a few fingers of Scotch and walked over to the large picture window that overlooked the vast concrete sea of New York City. “I think you’ve gone about this all wrong.”

“Enlighten me.”

The real-estate developer returned to Will’s desk and sat back down in his chair. “You offered her a clean slate, but you’re still letting all that old junk mess with your head. Let’s take a page from Cynthia’s book, so to speak. Forget about your past with Cynthia. Forget about this collaboration with Dempsey Corp. Even forget you were ever engaged.”

Will looked at his friend with distrust. Those were a lot of factors to just sweep off the table. “O-
kay
.”

“Now,” Alex continued, “with all that set aside, just ask yourself one simple question: Do you want her?”

Leave it to Alex to boil the situation down to base needs. But it made sense. Did he want her? Given that the blood pumped furiously through his body just from the sound of her laughter? Given that he’d locked himself in his office for hours with a miserable erection to keep himself from doing something stupid? “Yes.”

“And with any other aspect of your life, what do you do when you want something?”

“I get it.”

Alex shook his head. “You don’t just get it, you tackle it. When you wanted to be student-body president, you campaigned like no one else. When you wanted to be the captain of the polo team in college, you worked harder than any other guy on the field. Cynthia could’ve had any man she wanted. But you set your sights high and you made her fall for you. You make things happen. It sounds like she’s interested in you and you’re interested in her. What’s the problem?”

“It’s not that simple. Yes, in your scenario it seems that way, but all those other issues still exist. I don’t live in a vacuum.”

“Yes, but what would it hurt if you guys gave this new relationship a solid try?”

Will knew the only thing that could get hurt was him, but that was only if he let it happen. Cynthia had the potential to really get into his head and into his heart, but he couldn’t allow it to go that far. He didn’t have a head injury to forget what Cynthia was capable of. But if he could keep his heart out of the equation, it would be better for business, and maybe he wouldn’t mind coming home at night. “It wouldn’t hurt anything,” Will admitted.

Alex took another sip of his Scotch, a smug smile curling his lips. “Well, it’s not my life, man, but if I were you, I’d go for it. March right out of this office and seduce the panties right off of her. Then enjoy it while it lasts. If she recovers and you hate each other again, so be it. You leave. You haven’t lost anything that wasn’t screwed before that plane went down.”

“And if she doesn’t recover?”

“They you’ll live happily ever after. Simple as that.”

It wasn’t as simple as that, but it did give him something to think about. Will got up and poured his own small tumbler of Scotch.

Alex was right. He had told Cynthia he’d forgiven her, but deep down, he was still holding back. He hadn’t committed himself the way he should’ve. And that wasn’t fair to either of them. Will needed to let himself enjoy her, even if he couldn’t let himself love her. Eventually something would ruin what they had, and he needed to take the chance while he still could.

* * *

Cynthia did the last bit of stitching and snipped the thread that ran from the cloth to the needle. She turned the dress right side out and shook it in front of her. It had taken her a few days, but her first piece was finished. She held it out to admire it and smiled. It wasn’t bad.

She’d opted to start with the first design that called to her, regardless of whether it was too hard to tackle. It was a sleeveless shirtdress with a sort of fifties-era vibe. It buttoned down the front, with a sweet, rounded collar and a belt that tied at the waist. The skirt was full and fell just below the knee. She even considered constructing a crinoline underneath for fullness but opted to wait until it was finished to decide.

The silhouette was sophisticated, but it veered from the traditional with black-and-white zebra-printed fabric, splattered with hot pink and purple. The moment she saw the bolt of it sticking out of the racks, she knew it was the perfect choice for this project. She’d trimmed the edges and fashioned the collar and belt out of black satin that gave it a touch of shine and richness.

It was rockabilly meets the eighties. Funky, fun and unlike anything she’d seen people wearing. At least on the Upper East Side.

But now the real test. Slipping out of her clothes, she unbuttoned the dress and slipped it on. Turning and admiring it in the full-length mirror on the door, she was pleased and relieved to find she’d fitted it just right. After fastening the last button and tying the belt, the dress fit perfectly, flattering and forming to every curve.

It was just screaming for some black, patent-leather peep-toe sling-backs. Cynthia dashed down the hall to the bedroom and searched through shoeboxes until she found just the right pair. She slipped them on and then walked out into the living room to give the look a turn around the floor.

The sound of a loud cat-calling whistle made her spin on her heels.

Will was standing in the doorway, a look of open appreciation lighting his eyes. His heated gaze took in every inch of her, and she was fairly certain her skills at the sewing machine didn’t have much to do with it. He smiled, shutting the door behind him. “Look at you,” he said.

“Do you like it?” she asked, taking a twirl to make the full skirt swirl around her and torture him with the quick flash of bare thigh.

“I do,” he said, swallowing hard. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

“I just finished it a few minutes ago.”

Will’s eyebrows shot for the ceiling. “You mean you made that?”

“Yep. It’s my first completed piece. I know the arm brace leaves something to be desired, but that will come off before too long.”

“You went from a sewing-machine virgin to making a dress that is well constructed enough for the catwalk in three days? It took my little sister two weeks to figure out how to thread her machine when she took home ec. Her first dress looked like a purple potato sack.”

Cynthia nodded. She’d had the same concerns when she first sat down. Fortunately, he’d bought her such a nice machine it practically ran itself. And sewing had simply come as second nature to her, which was frustrating considering how much of her previous life was a daily struggle. After reading over the manual once, the machine just made sense. Piecing together and pinning parts of the clothes on the dress form was easy. She might not know the name of every sewing doo-dad and gadget, but she would rummage through her things until she found what she thought would work. It was like she’d been doing it her whole life, which was impossible. And worrisome, honestly, if her joy of the new project hadn’t taken precedence in her mind.

“I guess following my instincts has paid off. I’m really excited about making more. I was even thinking about making my dress for the party.”

Will shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the arm of the sofa. “Ahh, yes. Your mother’s soiree. It’s the talk of the town. Choose your design carefully, as it might show up on the cover of every society paper and website in Manhattan.”

Cynthia froze, mid-swish, her mouth falling slightly open. She hadn’t thought about that. She kept forgetting that anyone gave a damn about what or who she was. There would be journalists there. Photographers. If she really wanted to be a designer, this would be the perfect launching board.

That, or they’d laugh her back to a figurehead VP job at her daddy’s company. Who was she to just decide one day she wanted to do fashion? She had no training, no experience. Uncanny skill with a pencil and some scissors did not a career make.

“Maybe I should just stick with something in my closet, then,” she conceded.

“Can’t do that,” Will said, closing the gap between them. “You can’t be seen in something you’ve worn before. You’ve either got to buy a new dress or make one. And I think you should make one. Let everyone at that party know that Cynthia Dempsey has arrived, more fun and fashionable than ever.”

Cynthia let her gaze drop from his, the compliment flushing her cheeks. “You’re just being nice.”

“No,” Will said, standing directly in front of her and resting his hands on the small waist she accented with the cut of the dress. His fingers gently stroked her skin through the fabric, sending a warm awareness coursing through her veins. Her mouth went dry, her breasts tightening and aching to press against the hard wall of his chest.

Every time he got close to her, every time he touched her, she reacted this way. She just didn’t understand. This couldn’t be something new; this had to be chemistry and hormones at a base level. Something primitive. She couldn’t squelch this reaction to Will even if she tried. And yet she had had an affair with someone else. She couldn’t possibly feel this way and be with another man at the same time.

Will leaned in and pressed against her, and she was immediately pleased that she’d put on these high heels a moment before. The five-inch pumps put them on a level playing field. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest, hard length to soft belly.