Desire #1 (5 page)

It was so beautiful here in Rhode Island. I was tempted to stay. Maybe I could, if I found more projects.

There would be ample opportunity to advertise my skills on Saturday evening, if only I had the courage to attend. I stayed on the beach for an hour, enjoying the warm sun on my skin and cool, refreshing sea breeze ruffling my hair.

After lunch, I headed back to Cliff House and applied a few finishing touches to the mural. My eyes kept drifting to the staircase as I worked.

By five o’clock, I had to admit defeat. He wasn’t going to make an attempt to see me again. I was a fool to think he might be interested in seeing me. What would a man like that see in someone like me? He’d already taken what he wanted. I’d offered it up eagerly.

I wished I could have shrugged it off as great sex with a hot guy, but I found it difficult. I’d only ever slept with two other men, both in long-term relationships.

As I packed up my truck, I glanced up at the huge windows of Cliff House. I felt strangely melancholy, sad that I’d never see the beautiful house again. Inside the truck, I turned up the radio and sang along to a cheesy country song about strong women sticking together, and pulled out onto the gravel driveway. As the tires crunched over the gravel, I refused to look back. I needed to put this behind me.

After stopping at a grocery store to get some bread and milk, I pulled up in front of the Salve Regina dormitory. Mrs. Wicker had very kindly arranged for me to rent a room here. In the summer, the dorm rooms were empty, so to raise extra money, the university let out rooms for a short period, usually to people attending academic conferences, but for Mrs. Wicker, they had made an exception. The location was perfect as it was only a two-minute drive from Cliff House, and if I hadn’t needed my paints and tools, I could have walked the distance easily.

The dorm rooms were small, but that suited me fine. The communal kitchen was just down the hall. I fixed myself a peanut butter sandwich and sat down at the kitchen table to tuck in when I heard a cheery voice say, “Hello.”

I turned to see Frank, the resident warden and caretaker.

“I wondered where you were hiding, Miss Taylor.”

“Just making a sandwich,” I said, tilting my plate.

“You’ve got a parcel.” Frank laid a rectangular box on the table next to my plate. “I signed for it for you.”

As I stared at the box, my mouth grew dry. Who would be sending me parcels?

A movie reel played in my head, showing clips from all the gangster movies I’d seen in the past: body parts, dead animals – all sent as sick messages or warnings … Surely they wouldn’t go that far.

Frank cleared his throat, and I realised he was still standing their waiting for me to respond or open the parcel.

I swallowed then pushed the parcel back a few inches. “Thanks, Frank. I’ll open it later.”

“Okay,” he said, looking a little disappointed. “You have a good night now,” he called over his shoulder as he left the communal kitchen.

A few moments after he left, I dumped my half-eaten sandwich in the bin and grabbed the parcel. Holding it at arm’s length, I took it back to my dorm room.

I set the parcel on the floor, and sat back on the bed, wondering what to do.

It’s no good just staring at it
, I told myself.
You’ll have to open it sometime.

I knelt down on the floor beside the parcel and reached out with trembling hands. It was sealed at one end with sticky tape. I peeled it back and unwrapped the brown paper. Inside, was what looked like a white shoe box. It looked innocent enough, but appearances could be deceptive.

My heart pounded in my chest as I slowly lifted the lid.

What the hell? Shoes?

I picked up a gold, strappy sandal with the highest heels I had ever seen. It was a designer I had never heard of, but I could tell they were expensive shoes, possibly even handmade.

I turned my attention back to the box and found a note amongst the red tissue paper.

Please come on Saturday night. I’d love to see you wearing these.

Benjamin.

Holy cow. My jaw dropped. He’d sent me these. But why? Why make such an extravagant gesture? And how did he even know if they were my size?

I quickly kicked off my ballet pumps and inserted my right foot into the gold sandal. It was the perfect fit. I pursed my lips together. That was just weird. How did he know what size shoe I wore?

I stood up and slipped on the other shoe. I wobbled over to the wardrobe, which had a full length mirror inside the door.

Whoa! These shoes would take some getting used to. I felt as if I were walking on stilts!

I gaped at my reflection in the mirror. The shoes really did work wonders. My legs looked longer and leaner, and when I turned to the side, I noticed that they made me stand differently. They made my butt stick out and look round and perky.

Wow, who knew shoes could make such a difference?

I struck a few silly poses in front of the mirror, enjoying fooling around. Perhaps I could go to the charity dinner tomorrow.

I freed my unruly hair from my hair band and fluffed it around my face. I stared at myself in the mirror and bit my lip.

Benjamin Easton was obviously a shoe man. If I wore them on Saturday night, he might be tempted to take me upstairs to his office, lay me over his desk and…

I smiled at myself in the mirror. It couldn’t hurt. I’d go to his little party tomorrow night and wear these killer heels. What was the worst that could happen? I might get some more work out of it, and if I was lucky, I might get to see a little more of the enigmatic Benjamin Easton.

Chapter 6

The confidence I’d had on Friday night had well and truly disappeared by Saturday evening. I was dressed in my black, knee-length dress. It had faded a little in the wash, but I didn’t have time to buy something new. I usually wore the dress with a little jacket and thick, black tights for a casual look, but tonight my legs were bare. I gazed down at the sexy sandals. At least they looked good.

I wondered what the other women at the event would wear tonight. I hoped I wouldn’t stand out for the wrong reasons.

It was only a few minutes’ walk to Cliff House, but even a short walk wasn’t practical in shoes this high. I’d decided to wear my ballet pumps and change into the gold shoes when I got there, but as I walked out into the parking lot, Frank was heading home and offered me a lift.

“Great,” I said. “Can you just give me a minute?”

I rushed back to my room, kicked off the ballet pumps and quickly slipped on the gold sandals. I walked back to Frank as quickly as I could.

He blinked a couple of times and let out a low whistle. “You look pretty tonight, Miss Taylor. Are you going on a date?”

“I’m going to the charity function at Cliff House. They are displaying the mural I worked on.”

“Fancy,” Frank said as he drove out of the parking lot.

In no time at all, Frank pulled into the driveway of Cliff House. The security guard in the gate house flagged us down.

Frank wound down his window. “What is it?” he asked in irritation.

The security guard looked younger than me. He had slicked back, fair hair and pimples on his cheeks.

“Sorry, Frank, but this evening’s function is invite only,” he said and tucked his thumbs behind his belt, puffing out his chest. “Can’t let you in, I’m afraid.”

The colour of Frank’s face made me concerned for his blood pressure.

I leaned across Frank, trying to get the security guard’s attention. “I am invited. Frank is just dropping me off.”

The security guard looked me over, a little too intently for my liking, his gaze finally settling on my cleavage. “Sorry, ma’am, but I can’t let Frank’s truck near the house.”

“For heaven’s sake, Jimmy. Your father’s going to hear about this,” Frank snapped. “Do you really expect her to walk down the gravel driveway in those shoes?” Frank pointed down at my gold strappy sandals.

The security guard peered into the car, getting an eyeful of my shoes. He wet his lips. “That ain’t my problem, Frank.”

“Oh, yeah?” Frank stamped on the gas pedal, and wheels spat out gravel as we sped passed the guard.

I turned to Frank. “Jesus, Frank. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Frank snorted. “Jimmy? That boy won’t do anything. He’s a puffed up waste of space just like his father.”

Frank slowed down as we approached the house.

In the summer, it didn’t get dark until after nine, and now in the setting sun, the house appeared to glow.

“Sure is something, isn’t it?” Frank said.

I nodded, staring up at the majestic house, soaking the image in. It was beautiful.

Expensive Mercedes, Ferraris and Bentleys were parked up, waiting for the valet service. I did see the security guard’s point. Frank’s truck didn’t exactly fit in around here. Like me, I thought, a cold feeling of dread building in my stomach. Maybe I shouldn’t go in. Maybe this was a mistake…

I bit my lip and turned to Frank.

He smiled at me, and as if he could read my mind, he said, “You’ll knock ’em dead.”

I smiled, thanked him for the lift and climbed down from the truck.

My heels immediately sank into the gravel, and I had to take a few wobbly steps before I made it safely to the stone path at the entrance. I stood there for a moment, watching Frank’s truck rumble away and wished I was in the truck leaving with him.

“Can I be of assistance?” a tall man wearing evening dress asked me and handed me a program.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Pah,” a nasal voice sounded behind me. “She’s just the artist, not a proper guest.”

It was Carter, of course. I really didn’t know what he had against me, but his words actually did me a favour. I tilted my head up, tossed my hair and breezed through the entrance, ignoring him.

Inside the Great Hall, my eyes were immediately drawn to the mural. As Mrs. Wicker had said, uplighters had been used to highlight the mural. The dazzling light glinted off the gold leaf and made the pinks and greys even warmer and more beautiful. It felt really good to think I’d helped uncover its beauty again after it had been practically destroyed by the red paint.

After I’d managed to tear my eyes away from the mural, I noticed what the other guests were wearing.

Damn, it was a black tie event.

The women wore extravagant jewellery, diamonds and pearls, hanging from their necks. My hand reached up to finger the thin, plain gold chain around my neck. Every woman I saw wore an ankle-length gown. I looked down at my own bare legs and the strappy, gold sandals. Compared to the other guests, I looked cheap. I should have bought something new.

“Ah, here she is. The lovely Miss Katherine Taylor, our very own miracle worker.”

I turned to see Colin Easton beaming at me. A short, balding, plump man stood next to him watching me curiously.

“Hello,” I murmured, trying to tug down my skirt and smile at them at the same time.

“This,” Colin said, pointing to the man beside him, “is Pierre Duvall. He was very impressed with your work on the mural.”

Behind Pierre’s back, Colin waggled his eyebrows, making me smile. I knew he was trying to help me out and get me more business.

I gave Pierre Duvall my business card and spent a few minutes chatting to him about my work. He did seem interested, which raised my hopes, but he also seemed very interested in my shoes. Throughout our conversation, his eyes continually returned to my legs.

After we finished speaking to Pierre Duvall, Colin escorted me around the room, introducing me to various acquaintances who might be in need of some art restoration in the near future. He was so sweet I could have kissed him.

Colin had left me chatting to a lady who owned a collection of Spaniel paintings when I felt a prickling sensation at the back of my neck. I turned my head slowly and saw Benjamin Easton in the centre of the room. He was watching me intently.

His gaze travelled the length of my body then returned to linger on my shoes. A slow, sexy smile crept across his mouth. He was dressed in formal evening wear and looked amazing. I imagined slipping my fingers beneath his white shirt and feeling his firm chest.

The lady I had been talking to touched my arm. “Are you all right, my dear? You look a little shaken.”

I tore my eyes away from Benjamin. “Yes. I think it must be a little warm in here,” I said, fanning myself.

“Yes. At this time of year the evenings can be humid. I always say...”

I tried to pay attention, but my head was spinning. I looked around for Benjamin, but he had disappeared.

Chapter 7

I’d just given the lady with the Spaniel paintings a business card when Colin came to claim me again. He made our excuses and whisked me off to meet another potential client.

It was hard to be charming when I was constantly on the lookout for Benjamin, but I kept a smile plastered on my face and laughed politely at the jokes Colin made.

I had just handed over yet another business card when I felt his hot breath on my neck. I didn’t turn, but I knew it was him.

Colin’s shoulders slumped slightly as the guests we had been speaking to suddenly turned their attention to the darkly charismatic Benjamin.

Colin was warm and friendly, but he couldn’t compete with Benjamin’s presence. I realised it wasn’t only me who was drawn to him. Though, I doubted anyone was quite as affected by his proximity as I was.

He placed a proprietary hand on the small of my back. That simple touch made me crave more contact. His hand was warm and pressed firm against me. I inclined my head slightly to look at him. He was quite simply dazzling. His smooth tanned skin contrasted against the sharp whiteness of his teeth. His dark hair was pushed back from his face, revealing those sexy brown eyes I’d seen darken with desire.

I was glad the conversation continued without any input from me. I was sure I wouldn’t be able to string a coherent sentence together with him standing so close.

His hand inched across my back to the side of my waist and then squeezed. “I hope you don’t mind if I steal Miss Taylor from you?” Benjamin said and flashed a smile at them. “She’s very much in demand tonight.”