From Boss to Bridegroom (15 page)

Last but not least, she slipped her feet into a pair of spike-heeled strappy pumps and carefully applied
a plum-raisin colored lipstick too dark for daytime but just the right finishing touch for evening.

“Very nice,” Rand said in genuine appreciation as he glanced over his shoulder when she descended the stairs fifty-five minutes later.

Off went the television and he stood, facing her so he could give her a second once-over from top to bottom and back again.

“Very, very nice,” he repeated.

Lucy inclined her head to accept the compliment. “Didn't I hear something about champagne?”

“Champagne it is,” he said, crossing to her to take her evening coat from her so he could help her on with it.

But once it was on, his hands lingered at her shoulders and he leaned in so close she thought he was going to kiss her ear. He merely took a deep whiff of her though and said, “You smell as fantastic as you look.”

“So do you,” she said since she'd been savoring the scent of his aftershave again.

He chuckled a deep, sexy chuckle. “I guess we should go out and knock 'em dead, then.”

Lucy didn't agree with him immediately because as nice as the evening he had planned sounded, his touch, his nearness, his voice, everything about him sent a sudden flash-fire through her that almost made her want to stay home instead. With him. Alone…

Be careful,
a voice in the back of her head cautioned.

“We'll have to go out because we can't knock 'em dead from here,” she said when she could summon her voice.

Rand took his cue, releasing her to open the front door, holding it for her.

Frank was behind the wheel of the limousine and came out as they left the town house, rounding the car to open the rear door for them.

Lucy greeted the driver and exchanged pleasantries, then slid into the plush back seat with Rand following close behind.

“What happened to the Town Car?” Lucy asked when Frank had shut the door behind them, leaving them enclosed in the expansive gray interior complete with a tinted-glass window that separated them from Frank and an open bar where the champagne chilled in a crystal bucket and two glasses waited.

“The same service that provides the Town Car also has limousines. It's my choice which I use and I thought tonight called for the limo.”

Rand poured the champagne, handing her one of the flutes as he settled back with his own.

“And you thought Max would do all right in this car and at Aux Beaux Champs?” she asked with a small laugh at the notion.

“I had no doubt he would rise to the occasion.”

“Don't be too sure about that.”

“I figured there was a little gentleman lurking beneath the surface and we might bring it out in him tonight.”

“Well, one way or another it was a nice idea. But to be honest it's nicer to have an adult night for a change.”

Rand gave her a secret smile. “I'm glad it worked out this way then. And I'll save all the dinosaur trivia I read up on on the way over for another time.”

Lucy laughed. “You boned up on dinosaur trivia so you could make conversation with Max?”

Rand flipped open a compartment below the bar and produced a dinosaur book. “I also thought if worst came to worst it would give Max something to look through. There are great pictures.”

If Rand was searching for a way to melt the last of her reserves, he'd found it because Lucy was touched by the trouble he'd gone to to relate to her son.

“You really are something,” she said softly.

Rand didn't respond to that. He just put the book back in the compartment and closed it securely. “But that's it for dinosaur talk. Unless you want me to woo you with the statistics of the Triceratops?”

“Are you wooing me?”

His smile this time was boyish. “Not so you're supposed to notice.”

They'd arrived at the restaurant then and the valet opened their door before Frank had a chance. Rand got out then turned to offer her a hand, and Lucy accepted it without a thought, slipping her own into his much larger one as if it were something she'd been doing forever.

Once he had a hold of it, he didn't let it go.

It delighted Lucy more than she knew it should have. But it felt so good to have her hand in his. To walk into the elegant restaurant with such a man staking a claim to her in a way that all the room could see.

Rand was greeted by name and they were led without pause to the best table in the house where another bottle of champagne was already chilling. As the maître d' seated and welcomed them, the wine steward poured the bubbly elixir and an appetizer tray appeared as if by magic, laden with tiny pastries stuffed with crab and caviar.

And so their night truly began.

Over courses of soup, salad, succulent beef Wellington and artfully presented chocolate mousse cake for dessert, Rand kept up a conversation that might have bored someone else but was as much a feast for Lucy's mind as the food was a feast for her palate. He told her about his years in law school, about clerking for a Supreme Court judge, about the beginning of his career, about his most interesting cases.

Once again Lucy held her own with him, asking pertinent questions and even debating better ways he might have argued two cases he lost.

Before she knew it, it was eleven o'clock and Rand was suggesting dancing at a nightclub he knew of.

Lucy didn't hesitate to accept and off they went to what looked like an old-time ballroom complete
with a full orchestra that played big band music from the forties and fifties.

After the stimulation of their dinner talk it was nice to take a more mellow turn, to be in Rand's arms, led around the dance floor as adeptly, as gracefully, as he did everything else.

Conversation slowed and they just let the music waft around them, carrying them along until the wee hours of the morning when the last song was played.

But somehow Lucy felt as if the evening shouldn't be drawing to a close yet, as strange as that seemed for someone who was usually asleep by midnight.

The truth was that she didn't want to say good-night to Rand. Not yet. And so when the limo pulled up in front of her town house again, she asked him in for a nightcap.

He didn't hesitate to accept, countering with a suggestion that they stick with champagne and bringing inside the bottle and glasses they'd started with.

Coming from a subtly lit restaurant and a dimly lit nightclub, bright lamplight didn't seem called for so once Lucy had shed her coat and folded Rand's suit jacket over the banister, she led the way into the living room and turned on only one table lamp to cast an amber glow.

Rand poured them each more champagne but after handing her her glass he whisked her into his arms the way he had been all evening on the dance floor and began to sway with her as if there were still music playing.

“I think this was the perfect evening,” he said.

“You make that sound as if it isn't something you do all the time and I don't believe that for a second,” she countered with a laugh.

“That all depends on how you look at it.”

“Oh? And how do you look at it?”

“I look at it as a rare occasion when I can share good food, good wine, good dancing
and
excellent conversation with a woman whose face I never seem to tire of looking at.”

“Is that a line you use at the end of every Saturday night?” she joked.

He angled a mock frown down at her. “I do not use
lines,
” he corrected. “And even if I did, what I just said was the absolute truth, so help me God.”

“Well, now that you're sworn in…” Lucy said with a laugh.

“Go ahead. Ask me anything,” he challenged.

“Are you drunk?”

He laughed that oh-so-masculine laugh that gave her goose bumps. “No, I am not drunk. I'm perfectly clearheaded.” He set his champagne flute on the mantelpiece. “And rather than have you think for one minute that I'm not in full command of my senses, I will forego a single sip more.”

Lucy set her glass beside his. Not only because she'd had enough and didn't want to get drunk either, but also because what she really wanted was her hand free to place against his biceps as they danced.

“All right, you're not drunk. You're just smooth,” she teased.

“Am I? I don't feel smooth when I'm with you.”

“Why not?”

He laughed again. “Because you ruffle me up inside.”

“Remember you're under oath,” she reminded, her tone dubious.

“I remember,” he assured. “The whole truth and nothing but the truth. The truth is that you ruffle me up inside.”

“How do I do that?”

“Just by walking into a room. Or looking at me with those big blue eyes. Or giving me a run for my money intellectually. Or by smiling, or laughing or tilting your head the way you do when you're intent on something. You ruffle me up inside just by being you.”

“What does that mean exactly? That I ruffle you up inside?”

“It means that my heart beats a timpani. That my blood runs faster in my veins. That I'm suddenly aware of every nerve, every sensation, every smell and taste and touch in ways I've never been aware of before. Sometimes I think you're spiking my coffee with love potion or something.”

“You've found me out,” she said to make light of what was actually the same reaction she had to him.

His eyes met hers and they suddenly seemed somehow darker, deeper than normal. And when he
spoke, his voice was more solemn, too. “What are you doing to me, Lucy Lowry?”

“The same thing you're doing to me,” she admitted in a near whisper.

“Do I ruffle up things inside you?” he asked almost as quietly. “Terribly.”

“I haven't been the same since the day I met you.”

“Neither have I.”

“Maybe we should do something about it,” he said on a breath that heated her ear before he raised his head to look down at her again. “Like what?”

He just smiled. A warm smile that said she could trust him. That opened him up to her in a way she'd never seen before, that let her know he was as vulnerable to her as she was to him.

He kissed her bare shoulder. Then the sensitive L of shoulder into neck. Then the side of her neck.

Soft kisses that enticed, that entreated, that gave her the opportunity to tell him to stop before he reached her mouth.

But Lucy didn't tell him to stop. Instead she angled her head to one side to allow him free access, and lifted her chin when she knew her mouth was what he sought.

They were still swaying there in her living room as his lips took hers, swaying and kissing and holding each other.

And Lucy knew where this was going. She knew it as surely as if he'd drawn her a map. But tonight she didn't care about getting hurt or about incompatible lifestyles. Tonight Rand was hers and she was his and for that moment in time that was all that mattered.
He
was all that mattered. And that she wanted him. That she wanted to let this take her wherever it might. Just this once.

“I promised myself I'd be careful,” she confided when one kiss ended and before another began.

“Does that mean I have to leave or that you'll just let me protect you?” he asked between nibbles of her earlobe.

Leave? Oh no, she didn't want him to leave and she told him so.

“Then trust me,” he said in a voice that had grown gravelly, kissing her again.

Wisdom went out the window at that moment and nature took over.

Wide-open mouths were hungry, urgent, as tongues did a mating dance that replaced the swaying that had drawn to a close. Both of Rand's hands were in her hair, cradling her head against the onslaught of kisses she was returning with equal force.

Lucy's hands were busier, loosening his tie and taking a firm tug of both ends to hold him close while they kissed before she slid it from his collar and unfastened the top button of his shirt.

Without ending the play of mouths and tongues, she kicked off her shoes. Rand followed her lead,
doing the same as his hands moved to her back so he could pull her closer.

She was thinking about taking him upstairs, about the fortuitousness of Max being gone for the night, when out of the blue something else occurred to her.

“Frank!” she said, breaking away from their kiss.

“You should never call out another man's name, Lucy. It's poor form,” Rand deadpanned without missing a beat.

“He's outside waiting for you.”

“Yes, he is,” he agreed. He searched her eyes with his and then said, “Shall I send him home?”

He was giving her one more chance to opt out of what was happening between them. But Lucy didn't need to think about it again. She'd made her decision and now her body, her emotions, her needs, were in control.

“Yes,” she answered in a breathy voice caused by Rand nuzzling her neck. “Send him home.”

Rand let go of her only to take her hand in his and bring her with him to the phone on her corner desk. After punching in a number and waiting a moment he said, “That's it for tonight, Frank,” and hung up.

There was something slightly embarrassing—and deliciously wicked—about taking that step. And now that they'd gone that far Lucy thought she was ready to take one more.

Without saying anything she led Rand up the stairs to her room.

Of course there really wasn't anything she needed to say. Or could say once they got there and Rand swung her back into his arms to recapture her mouth with his.

If there was hunger and urgency in those kisses before, it was nothing compared to this. All inhibitions, all hesitancy, all timidity seemed to vanish as wild abandon sprang to life.

That abandon made Lucy bold enough to yank at his shirttails to free them from his slacks. Bold enough to unbutton his shirt completely and then slide her hands inside of it to slip it off, to discover the glory of his bare skin.