Belinda (12 page)

“Well?” she said, twirling slowly.

“I’m speechless.”

“Good. I never did like a talkety man.”

Belinda paraded up and down the room as if
she were a model on a runway, turning this way and that, giving him
a view of herself from all angles. And every angle he saw was
delicious.

He poured himself a fortifying drink of wine.
When she glided his way, he offered her a glass.

“Won’t you join me?”

“Well...” She caught her lower lip between
her teeth. “Since this is a celebration, I guess one little glass
won’t hurt.”

She took the glass bravely and began to sip.
Reeve watched in fascination as her face flushed and she sank
languidly onto the couch. As the blues music drifted around them,
the one shoulder on her silk dress slid downward. She hiccuped
softly.

“My goodness.” She giggled. “I feel all
swimmy-headed.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t finish that wine.” He
reached for the glass.

“Nonsense. I always start what I finish.” She
took a big gulp, and her strap slid inexorably farther.

Reeve cursed himself for being a fool. She
had told him the effect wine had on her. Why had he offered her a
glass? Indeed, why had he set the room up like a seduction trap,
then waited inside like some love-starved teenager for his first
victim?

“Hell.” He sat on the sofa beside her and
leaned over to pull her dress back onto her shoulder.

She leaned close to his face. “Hello, there.
Fancy meeting you here.” She hiccuped once more, then gulped down
the rest of her wine.

Her lips were so close, so temptingly close.
With one finger he reached out and traced their bow-shaped lines.
They were still damp from the wine. He knew exactly how they would
taste. His finger played over her lips once more. She closed her
eyes and made a little humming sound.

What had he done? He jerked his hand away and
began to straighten her dress. His fingers encountered her naked
shoulders and he was lost once more. He couldn’t seem to move. Ever
so slowly, his thumbs caressed her silky skin.

“Hmm,” she murmured. “Tha’snish.”

She was drunk. On one glass of wine. He held
her by the shoulders and gazed down into her face. Belinda Diamond
was at his mercy. He could kiss her. He could pull her onto his lap
and run his hands down the length of her slim legs, tracing the
same path he’s seen her trace so often. He could bury his face in
her hair and feel its silky strands caress his cheek.

He was sorely tempted. He battled temptation
for several minutes. A muscle ticked in his tight jaw as he
carefully rearranged her dress and propped her on the sofa.

“Wait here, Belinda,” he said, although the
instructions were totally unnecessary. In her condition she
couldn’t have moved if she had wanted to. Apparently she was
extraordinarily sensitive to wine, perhaps even allergic. All the
way to the kitchen he berated himself. What had he been thinking
of, setting out a glass of wine for her?

As he prepared a cup of strong coffee, he
decided that the remaking of Belinda Diamond was going to be
somewhat dangerous. She was warmhearted and sweet and sexy, and he
was, after all, a man—one who had been without a woman for a long
time. He’d have to learn to keep the proper distance. Surely he
could exercise that much control over himself.

When he returned to the den, he propped
Belinda into the crook of his arm and held the coffee cup to her
lips.

“Sip, Belinda... That’s right....”

She made a face. “It’s bitter.”

“I know, sweetheart. That’s how it has to
be.”

Neither of them noticed the endearment. He
was too preoccupied and she was too tipsy.

He held her while she finished the coffee.
Then he smoothed back her hair. “Can you walk, Belinda?”

She smiled at him, then reached up and patted
his face. “You’re a nice man.’’

“Upsy-daisy.” He got her to her feet. She
swayed toward him and he braced her with a firm arm around her
waist. “Hold on. Let’s see what those legs can do.”

She was rubbery-legged all the way across the
den and back.

“Whoops,” she said, giggling, as she fell
into him.

“This doesn’t seem to be working.” He
untangled her and tried one more circuit of the room. She spent
most of the time lurching into him, hanging on and giggling.

“Are we going to dance like this all night?”
she asked.

“Absolutely not.”

Reeve got her into his arms and strode from
the den. He had gotten her into this condition and now he was going
to take care of her. There was no need to torture her the rest of
the evening with strong coffee and forced marching.

Belinda wrapped her arms around him and
buried her face in his neck as he ascended the stairs. He tightened
his jaw and kept his inexorable march toward her bedroom.

She had left a lamp glowing beside the bed.
He stepped through the doorway and kicked the door shut behind him,
just in case. He never knew when Quincy would decide to roam the
halls, checking on things, and he certainly didn’t want her to see
what was going on. She would take great delight in misinterpreting
the entire scene.

He lowered Belinda to the bed, and she lay on
the silk coverlet like a fallen flower. With the lamplight gilding
her hair and her skin, she was exquisite.

Reeve yielded to temptation long enough to
lean down and caress her cheek.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

“Hmm.” She settled into a comfortable
position and her eyes slowly drifted shut.

Reeve briefly considered removing her dress
so she would be more comfortable, then tucking her under the
covers, but that was too much temptation for any man. He contented
himself with sitting at her bedside a while, watching to be sure
she was all right.

She sighed and stirred in her sleep, and the
smell of roses drifted around him. Once more he leaned down to
caress her face.

“Do you have any idea how desirable you are,
Belinda Diamond?” he whispered.
Probably not.
Once more he
was overcome with the temptation to remove her dress, but this time
he wasn’t thinking of her comfort.

He stood up to leave. The fates would just
have to take care of Belinda, for he was in no condition. Belinda’s
discomfort and a hopelessly wrinkled dress were small prices to pay
for his sanity.

Tomorrow he’d send the dress to the cleaners.
And tomorrow he’d feel more like himself, more in charge. He had
to, otherwise this strange metamorphosis might become
permanent.

o0o

Belinda woke with such a horrible headache
she could barely read the note she found on her bedside table.

“I’ve arranged to send your dress out to be
cleaned and pressed. Please be ready for the ballet at
seven-thirty.” The note wasn’t even signed.

Reeve’s note crackled with cold authority.
Oh, Lordy, and here she was lying on her bed still dressed in her
new silk outfit. No telling what she had done after drinking the
wine. The last thing she remembered was how much she wanted to
crawl all over Reeve and nibble his neck.

The note was plain enough. He was going to
act like nothing had happened. Maybe it hadn’t. She didn’t know.
Anyhow, two could play the same game. Tonight when she sashayed
down the stairs in her fancy new dress, as elegant as Audrey
Hepburn in
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
, she’d act as cool as
you please.

She eased out of bed, hanging onto her
pounding head, then slid out of her dress and into the tub. When
she had finished, she wrapped a fluffy towel around herself and
sank into the middle of the bed with her laptop.

From: Belinda

To: Janet, Catherine, Molly, Joanna, Clemmie,
Bea

Re: Nothing is simple

I thought being a nanny would be simple. But
now Reeve has invited me to the ballet tonight, and I don’t know
whether it’s a date or just his way of saying
thank you
for taking good care of my kids.

Belinda

From: Janet

To: Belinda, Catherine, Molly, Joanna,
Clemmie, Bea

Re: Tonight

It is
not
a date! He’s your boss and
you’re too young for him.

Janet

From: Molly

To: Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Joanna,
Clemmie, Bea

Re: Age

Age has nothing to do with it, Janet. Daddy’s
signed himself up for Match.com! And he’s 50!!!!

Molly

From: Joanna

To: Molly, Belinda, Janet, Catherine,
Clemmie, Bea

Re: Yay!

LOL! I think that’s so
cute
about
Mr. Rakestraw, Molly!

And Janet, NOT A DATE!!!! Are you kidding me!
Of COURSE it is!!! Belinda, find out if he French kisses!!!!

Joanna

From: Bea

To: Belinda, Molly, Joanna, Janet, Clemmie,
Catherine

Re: Mr. Rakestraw

Cute my butt! You can meet criminals on
Match.Com. I’ve heard of it. Thank God, Mother hasn’t signed
up.

Belinda, listen to Janet. This is
not a
date!!!

Bea

From: Clemmie

To: Molly, Belinda, Joanna, Janet, Catherine,
Bea

Re: French kisses

Listen, Belinda, if he wants to make out, go
for it, just don’t go all the way! I’m not likely to get kissed
French or any other way stuck over here at the backside of
nowhere.

Clemmie

From: Catherine

To: Belinda, Molly, Joanna, Janet, Clemmie,
Bea

Re: BIG test

OMG, Belinda! Don’t do you dare let him get
in your Virginia! Got a big test. Gotta run.

Catherine

Belinda was still giggling when she shut off
her email. Then she shut off her computer, got dressed and went
downstairs for another wonderful day with the children.

o0o

That evening, promptly at seven-thirty,
Belinda descended the staircase. Reeve was standing at the bottom,
as stiff as a stuffed turkey, but she wasn’t going to let his
attitude bother her. This was her first real ballet, and she was
going to have a ball, whether it was a date or not.

“Ta-da!” When she reached the bottom she
twirled around for him. “I’m all pressed and polished and ready to
go. How do you like me?”

“You are lovely,” he said, without a smile.
He held his arm out as formally as if he were a doorman or
something. Belinda wanted to bash him over the head with one of her
high-heeled shoes. She wanted to rumple his hair and leave a
lipstick mark on his cheek and say, “Hey, let’s have some fun!”

Of course she did none of those things.
Instead she took his arm and inclined her head toward him as if
she’d been born acting high-and-mighty.

“I’m ready when you are, master.”

That brought a small smile to his face. It
even put a twinkle in his eye. Good. Maybe there was hope for the
evening, after all.

Once they got into the Corvette, Belinda did
most of the talking. He had opened up some by the time they got to
the ballet, but he said nothing personal. As they took their seats,
he started explaining the ballet to her, telling her about the
music and the composer, and the various places this particular
company had performed.

Belinda listened with half an ear, all the
while studying Reeve. He looked like a prince right out of a fairy
tale. She smiled, remembering the way he had held her when they
danced, recalling the way the expression in his eyes sometimes got
hot when the two of them were alone together.

“You seem to be enjoying this rather boring
lecture of mine.”

“I am. Tell me more, please.” She wasn’t
telling a lie exactly. What she was enjoying was the sound of his
voice and the feeling of sitting beside him all dressed up, just
like a real date. He leaned closer, making a point about
Tchaikovsky’s
Sleeping Beauty
ballet, and his arm brushed
against hers. She felt as if the night sky had opened up and all
the stars had lined up to blink a message, especially for her:
Belinda Stubaker loves Reeve Lawrence.

“Oh, no,” she whispered.

“You disagree with me about Tchaikovsky’s
music?” He smiled. “I’m glad. Nothing is more boring than a ‘yes’
person.”

If he only knew,
she thought. She
didn’t disagree with him about anything. In fact, if he had said
the sun was black, she’d have looked for dark streaks in it. She
was that much in love.

The very thought of loving her boss horrified
her. Not only was she as different from Reeve Lawrence as it was
possible for a woman to be, but she was putting everything she had
hoped for in jeopardy—her job, her security, her future. It just
couldn’t be possible, she thought in panic. When had it happened?
It had sneaked up on her when she wasn’t looking, that was
what.

The sound of his rich voice rumbled on, and
she pretended to be paying attention. She was relieved when the
lights finally dimmed and the ballet started. Now she could think
in the dark without having to pretend.

She stared straight ahead at the stage,
afraid her face would give her away. The costumes were beautiful,
the music grand, and the dancers graceful. She should be in heaven.
Her very first ballet, and here she was locked up in her own mind
with her tortured love.

Maybe it wasn’t so. Maybe living a fairy-tale
life in that fairy-tale house had warped her thinking. Perhaps she
just
thought
she was in love.

She sneaked a peek at Reeve.
No.
He
was real and her love was real. She could tell. She guessed that’s
why things had never worked out between her and Charlie Crocket—or
Matt Hankins. She hadn’t really loved either of them. They had
drifted into her life and selected her, and she had gone along for
the ride.

A kind fate had rescued her from Charlie and
Matt. Who was going to rescue her now?

The lights came up and Reeve took her arm.
“Shall we go downstairs?”