Hideaway (19 page)

Parris turned off the lamp and slipped quietly out of the room. She stifled a cry of surprise when she bumped into Martin. She hadn’t expected to find him lurking outside of Regina’s bedroom. He placed a large hand over her mouth.

“Hi,” she said after he’d removed his hand. Her voice was breathless with surprise.

“Hi back to you.” Martin smiled down at her. “You handled that quite nicely.” He led her down the hall to their bedroom.

“Thank you. What are you doing home so early?”

He closed the door to the bedroom. His fingers circled her upper arms, pulling her to his chest. “Is there some law which states I can’t come home early to my wife and daughter?”

Parris peered up at him through her lashes. “No.”

Martin lowered his head, his warm breath brushing her lips. “Are you glad to see me?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Very.” Her arms went to his neck, bringing his head down. He tasted her mouth, then with a burning that promised to consume them both, gathered her tightly, recapturing the fire eluding them for months.

Minutes later, their clothes lay in a pile on the floor as they lay on the bed in a tangle of limbs. All talk and thoughts of the campaign and election faded as Martin parted her thighs with his knee to tell her wordlessly and leisurely that he loved her in a way he was never able to verbalize.

Parris slept; however, sleep was not as kind to Martin. His head was still reeling from their lovemaking. How could he have neglected her? But he knew the answer to his question even before his mind formed it.

Ambition.

A driving ambition which would continue to haunt him until he assuaged it with victory—or defeat.

He had never been one to turn down a challenge. It had been one of the reasons why he had followed Parris the night he met her. She had turned down his invitation for a date, and his wounded pride would not accept rejection. From the moment he saw her he had to have her.

He had her, then lost her. And if he wasn’t careful he would lose her again.

Priorities. His campaign manager had pointed that out to him. Who or what was more important?

He owed it to the secret circle of powerful men who backed him to fulfill his promise to challenge and defeat Eliot Howard; but he also owed it to Parris to be a husband, and to Regina a father.

He had made a choice. He was going to take a week off to be a husband and a father. He would take the time and he would defeat Eliot Howard. He would succeed only because he had never failed nor had he ever been defeated.

P
arris slipped quietly from bed the next morning and made her way into the bathroom. It felt strange to find Martin beside her when she woke up. He had come home early the night before, they had made love for the first time in more than a month and she felt as if she had won a small victory. She had gotten her husband back. Even that was temporary because she knew she would have to share him with the people of Florida when he began to tour the state.

She showered, dressed, then saw to getting Regina ready for school.

An hour later she returned to the bedroom. Martin was still asleep, his face pressed to the pillow. He was exhausted. Even without his saying he was tired, all of the visible signs were apparent: he had lost weight and his eyes were shadowed and deeper.

Returning to an alcove in the large bedroom she and Martin used as their sitting area, she gathered her handbag and the leather case containing fabric samples for the dining room chairs she wanted to purchase.

“Going somewhere?”

She looked up and saw Martin. Both of his hands were hidden in the pockets of a wine-colored paisley-print robe.

Parris smiled. “Shopping.”

“Anywhere in particular?”

“I’m going to order the fabric to cover the dining room chairs, and then visit a few shops on Worth Avenue in Palm Beach.”

“Do you mind company?”

She opened her mouth to ask whether he was going into his office then changed her mind. “Not at all.”

Shifting an eyebrow, he gave her a sensual smile. “Good. Give me half an hour and we’ll be on our way.”

She sank down to one of the chairs after he’d walked into the bathroom, smiling. The last time she had Martin all to herself was on their honeymoon.

The three days they’d spent at the beach front cottage was a repeat of their first trip to Ocho Rios. They spent half their time on the beach and the other half in the bed. Martin concocted monstrous breakfasts and exotic dinners, which they shared over candlelight.

Martin had begun to teach her to speak Spanish, and he spent at least an hour a day conversing in Spanish, gesturing or pointing to whatever object she didn’t understand. The lessons had continued each night when they retired for bed until he announced his candidacy.

“Ready, Parris?” He’d readied himself in twenty minutes.

Martin had shaved, showered and was dressed in a pair of khakis with a dark green short-sleeve Lacoste polo shirt and a celery green V-neck Lacoste cardigan. He wore his favored Gucci loafers in a dark brown. He looked nothing like the president of a corporation or a candidate for an elected office.

“My car or yours?” she asked as they made their way down the staircase and through a corridor leading to the garages.

He took her case and handbag. “Mine.”

“I’d like to be back in time for Regina when she gets in from school,” she reminded Martin after he’d pulled out of the driveway.

Martin patted her knee. “I’m not going to abduct you, darling. We’re just going to spend a few hours together.”

Her eyes widened and the breath caught in her throat the moment the word was out of his mouth.

Abduct. It had been a while since she had relived the nightmare. Even after seeing Owen she expected the dream to return but it hadn’t. She knew she wouldn’t feel completely safe until she moved to Fort Lauderdale.

Exhaling softly, she pressed her back to the leather seat in Martin’s late model Jaguar. Closing her eyes, she said, “¿
Qué hora es
, Martin?”

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “It’s ten…”

“
¡En español
, Martin!” she teased.

He rattled off the time in Spanish, grinning. It had been a long time, too long, since he had practiced speaking Spanish with her.

Glancing over at her delicate profile, he launched into a monologue, the words spilling fluidly from his tongue. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Parris staring at him.

“I don’t think I understood more than five words,” she admitted. “What did you say?”

“I apologized for neglecting you, Parris. I’ve missed your voice, your face and your body. I’ve missed lying in bed with you, holding your hand and teaching you Spanish. I miss seeing you smile and I miss hearing you laugh. I’ve missed loving and tasting you.”

His voice lowered. “When we made love last night it was like I’d been dying of thirst and you were an oasis. I need you, Parris. Not just your body, but all of you. Without you I’m only half of what I should be.”

Her cheeks were burning from his passionate confession. “Martin…”

“I adore you, baby.” The fingers of his right hand curved possessively over her thigh. “I’ll try to make it up to you. Just remind me when I get too demanding.”

Parris covered his hand with hers and they exchanged a tender smile.

They arrived in Palm Beach and Parris and Martin split up after agreeing to meet back at the car within the hour.

Parris couldn’t remember when she had spent a more pleasant day. She ordered her chairs for the dining room, shared lunch
with Martin, then browsed through several stucco fronted shops on Worth Avenue. She showed a particular interest in an antique shop located off Worth Avenue but declined to buy anything.

“You showed a lot of interest in those silver candlesticks,” Martin said once they were seated in his car.

“Seeing the candlesticks reminded me of the last project I worked on before I left New York. I catalogued a collection of candlesticks from a Hudson River Valley estate that was extraordinary.”

“Do you miss New York?”

“I miss my neighbor and her family. I manage to call her several times a month.” She paused. “She had a baby girl. It was born on New Year’s day.”

“Do you want another child, Parris?” He didn’t know why he’d asked because whenever they made love neither of them used any contraception.

Their gazes met and Parris managed a wry smile. “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “I want a baby, but not now. Our lives are too unsettled. We’re still living with your parents, you’re running for a political office which if you win will mandate that we move across the state and live there for at least four years…”

“You’re right,” Martin said, cutting her off. He was forty and he was getting older, not younger. He wanted another child before he turned forty-five. “Speaking of moving, Jon and Brittany are moving back to Florida. Both of them have had enough of Los Angeles. I think the last earthquake helped them make up their minds.”

“It’ll be good to see my old roommate again.” When she had asked about her friend, Martin told her that the Grants had moved to Los Angeles after Brittany was offered the position of assistant curator with a museum featuring Pre-Columbian art. Jon left his father’s law practice and followed his wife, securing a teaching position at a local community college.

“We’ll probably be in our new house by the time they return. It will give us an excuse to throw a party,” Martin said with a wide grin.

“You’ll have to wait until I finish decorating it.”

“If you’re not finished we can throw something outdoors. A pool party should be fun.”

“I will not have people in my house when it’s half-done.”

They argued good-naturedly on the return trip, exiting the car arm-in-arm. Martin thanked Parris for her company and she graciously accepted his thanks by pressing her mouth to his in a chaste kiss.

“We’ll continue this later,” he promised.

“I can’t wait,” she said saucily, proceeding him into the house.

Parris lay in bed, reading. She was waiting for Martin to come home. It had been six weeks since they had shared a glorious week together before he returned to his campaign activities. He was scheduled to begin touring the state the first week in May. That was only a week away.

She looked up as he walked into the bedroom. “Hi.” She curbed the impulse to spring from the bed and cradle him to her breasts. He was past being fatigued.

“Hi back to you.” He gave her a tired smile.

Lifting the sheet, Parris patted his side of the bed. “Come to bed before you fall on your face.”

She watched as he undressed, leaving his suit on the floor, and staggered toward the bed.

“Where are you going?” she questioned as he turned back to his clothes.

“I want to you give you something.” Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, he withdrew a flat box wrapped in gold foil paper. He handed her the box. “Happy birthday, darling.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. She thought he had forgotten her birthday. “Thank you.”

He groaned aloud as he lowered his body to the bed. “Tomorrow you’ll begin a makeover session where you’ll be fitted for a new wardrobe for our personal appearances.” He peered up at her. “Yes, Parris, you’ll have to dress up. No more jeans and jogging shoes. I’ll make all the arrangements with Mr. Ray.”

Those were his last words as he closed his eyes and turned his face into his pillow.

She removed the paper from the box and opened a black velvet case. The light from the bedside lamp caught the fiery light of a necklace set with emeralds encircled with brilliant blue-white diamonds. The necklace was the match to the earrings he had given her for Christmas.

“Martin,” she whispered. His answer came in a soft snore. She closed the box and put it on the table, wondering if he had also bought the necklace ten years ago.

Martin gave her everything but what she wanted most. She wanted him and only him while he wanted her and the state of Florida.

Mr. Ray, as he was referred to by his staff, met Parris personally. His smoldering dark gray eyes looked her over quickly, professionally, assessing what needed to be altered. He smiled a quick, nervous smile. “Come right this way, Mrs. Cole.”

“Please call me Parris.

Parris followed the slender man who had become the most sought-after stylist along Florida’s east coast. He wasn’t much taller than she was, but rumors of Ray and his numerous affairs with his clients were rampant in the gossip columns, and she wondered whether it was his artistic expertise they sought or his philandering.

Ray led her into a large room with mirrored walls. Turning, he buttoned several buttons on his body-fitting white shirt. Parris stared at his profile. He wasn’t good-looking. There were too many sharp angles in his face yet there was something about the man that drew women to him.

He displayed another nervous smile. “Mrs. Cole…Parris. You’ve probably heard stories about me—nasty little stories.” He smoothed back a thick lock of honey-blond hair. “Don’t believe them,” he added quickly. “Your husband is a wealthy man, and a very powerful one.”

Parris stared at him. What was he talking about? He hadn’t
made a pass at her so she didn’t know why he was attempting to apologize. “What is it?”

“A friend of your husband’s came here yesterday.” He buttoned another button. “Well, in not too many words he
warned
me not to get
familiar
with you. Not that I would,” he protested.

She was more confused than before. “Who?”

“He didn’t leave his name.”

“What did he look like?”

“Tall, over six feet with blond hair.”

“Joshua,” Parris whispered. Had Martin sent Joshua to threaten the stylist? She managed a smile although she did not feel like smiling. Martin would hear from her.

“I don’t think we will have a problem, Mr. Ray. I’m here because my husband feels I should change my image. You’re the professional, so I’ll go along with whatever you suggest.”

Ray took her hand, bowing over it and kissing her knuckles. “Thank you for your confidence.” He released her hand. “We’ll start you out with a sauna and massage.”

Ray slipped out of the dressing room, smiling at a masseuse. He had lied. He did have affairs with the wives of the wealthy men who paid for their excesses, but Martin Cole’s wife wasn’t worth the risk.

He discovered she was an attractive woman who could be beautiful after he changed her hair style and taught her how to apply makeup to emphasize her eyes and mouth. She would be a head-turner just by stepping into a room; however the image of Parris Cole’s protector was still too vivid for him to maintain the confidence and charm he had spent half of his life cultivating. He was only thirty-eight, and he looked forward to enjoying his glittering jaded lifestyle. Parris Cole was safe with Ray Lewis.