On The Dotted Line (28 page)

“I
didn’t want a wife.”

At
least the man wasn’t a liar. She closed her eyes.

“You
didn’t hear me.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her toward him. “I
said I didn’t want a wife.”

She
opened her eyes and not daring to look at his face, focused on his neck.

“Do
you know I finally sleep?” He leaned down. “Do you know that every day when I
wake up and you’re right there curled up at my side sometimes I lay in bed an
extra minute because I don’t want the peace to end?”

“You
stay in bed?” She searched his face for answers.

“Only
because you’re there.” He dipped his head down and brushed his lips against
hers.

She
willed the electric shivers he created out of her body.

“You
always say I’m right about the documents, but you know what you’re always right
about?”

“What?”
Her voice didn’t feel connected to her own body.

“No
one should ever start a relationship knowing the end.”

She
shook her head.

“So
I’m going to ask you the question I keep asking you.” He took her by the shoulders.
“What is it that you want?”

“Randolph.”

“That’s
not an answer. Tell me. Be honest for both of us.”

“You
tell me.” No way could she answer first.

“I’ll
tell you this, I care what happens to you and I think about you all the time. For
the first time in my life, I want to rush home from work just to see you. I
want to tell you everything and I trust you more than anyone.”

Her
eyes filled with tears.

“Somewhere
between the alleyway behind an art gallery and standing here on a balcony, I
found my wife.” He stepped back. “I never want you to forget your name again or
think you can’t use it. You are Mrs. Van Ayers. Mrs. Randolph Emerson Van Ayers
the Third.”

“Am
I?” The tears escaped.

“God,
I want you to be.” He opened his arms to her.

Her
heart swelled, threatening to burst out of her chest and run to Randolph
itself. Instead, her legs did the job for both her tired chest and herself and
carried her to her husband. As always, she had to follow where her heart led,
but maybe for once it led her to the right place.

The
moment she reached him he tossed the blanket aside and took her into his arms. She
buried her face in his chest and fingered the soft fabric of his shirt. “ I
care what happens to you, I think about you all the time, and every day I wait
for you to come home. I never had a home or a last name until you, and I trust
you with my life.”

“Look
at me.”

She
wiped her eyes on his shirt and tilted her head up, staring at him in a whole
new way. While he got a wife, she also got a husband, a real husband. “Don’t
leave me.”

“Never.”
He pushed her hair away from her face.

“I
am Mrs. Randolph Van Ayers.” For the first time she said her name and meant it.

“For
as long as you want to be.” He stared into her eyes.

In
their own way and their own time, they came up with another new set of vows,
unique to them. At last she could give her heart to him completely with no
limits. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him down and kissed him.

At
last, after all these months, she got the chance to simply kiss her husband. Slow
and easy, she took her time tasting each one of his lips. His taste belonged to
her and her alone.

He
moaned and bent her back, opening his mouth. Their tongues touched and she
leaned against him. Something about Randolph made her weak in the knees.

In
one fluid motion he picked her up.

“This
reminds me of our wedding night,” she whispered as she kept hold of him.

“This
is our wedding night.” With her in his arms, he turned and kissed her as he took
her inside.

For
someone who tried to spend her whole life going with the flow, bending with the
wind, a concrete commitment from Randolph gave her the grounding she always
lacked, but secretly craved. Finally free to soar, she pulled off his shirt
before he even made it to the bedroom.

She
ran her palm across his chest. Even when she spread her fingers, her hand
barely covered him. With him she would always be safe.

No
alcohol stupor, no anger, no rush, he lowered them both to the bed, and they
simply lay among the pillows and blankets kissing and caressing.

Clothing
seemed to disappear and they tangled their bodies together. She found a place
she fit, and in the most primal and basic way, it was here with Randolph with
nothing in between them.

Everywhere
his hands touched or fingers roamed came alive. She also took her turn to explore
him, trace his muscles on his arms and chest, reach down and stroke the confirmation
of his desire, only serving to amplify her own arousal.

“Come
closer.” He turned to his side and pulled her flush against him and kissed
across her jawline to her neck.

“I’m
right here.” She leaned back to give him access to her chest.

His
fingertips grazed her over sensitized nipples.

A
jolt of pleasure overtook her body and she squirmed against him in an attempt
to satisfy a bit of her need.

“I
don’t think it will ever be close enough.” His tone low. “Look at me.”

She
did as he asked. Unable to help herself, she combed her fingers through his
curls.

He
hooked her leg over his hip and slipped inside her.

Her
body welcomed the stretch to accommodate him. She sucked her breath and arched
her back.

“You
are so gorgeous when I’m making love to you.” Once again he found her lips.

They
moved together. On their sides facing each other they were on equal footing to
move toward their ultimate goal, but for the first time the finish line wasn’t
the orgasm, the rush. Rather simply being united, acting as one was the
endpoint, a metaphor for the rest of their lives.

Still,
the desire built. Randolph thrust into her with more power and speed and he
panted with the heat they created.

“Randolph.”
Needing him even deeper, she slid her leg up by his chest. Her climax was there
on the horizon. A little move and she would sail away in bliss.

“Yes.”
His voice came out strained as he held back the inevitable. “Willow.”

“I’m
there.” She buried her face in the crook of his neck breathing in the remnants
of his cologne mixed with paint and a bit of the ocean, a heady combination.

“I
need you.” He lowered his hand to her backside holding her steady as he plunged
into her. “Come with me.”

She
concentrated on the way his body took over for him, his strokes becoming more
erratic, his pending orgasm taking over everything. The knowledge she could
bring him to here threw her over the edge. While he stiffened with his release,
she gave way diving head first into her orgasm, the intense throbs rippling
through every inch of her. “Ah!”

“Willow.”
He called out to her and filled her body with the heat only a man could
produce. “God, I love that.”

They
ground against one another, allowing the last few moments of ecstasy to fade
away into the ultimate relaxation.

“What
do you love?” She looked up to his face smiling at the smile on his lips.

“I
love the way I can feel you orgasm. It’s incredible.” He gave her a light kiss.
“Actually, even more than that, I love you.”

Time
stopped, the world stopped, her heart stopped. In the universe those were three
of the most powerful words one could speak. “Randolph?”

“I
do, Willow.” His playful smile faded and he stared into her eyes. “I love you.”

She
studied the man she married in a moment of desperation. Even in the middle of
their insane situation, they still found each other. No one had said anything
like that since she became an adult. “I love you too.” More than any vow, those
were the words that would bind them together forever. “I love you, too.” She could
never lose him and hugged him close.

Randolph
took a breath to abate the dread that wanted to take over him before giving a
nod to Dimitri.

“Your
wife is waiting for you.” Their head of staff smiled and opened the door to the
car.

He
paused for only a moment more, vowing that no matter what the night held for
him, he would not get angry, upset or frustrated. Though he didn’t want to
attempt another dinner with the Hartfords, the plans were put in place before
he had the opportunity to intervene. The first dinner ended in a disaster of such
epic proportions, then Willow spilled wine on Millicent at the party, as the
saying went, bad things happened in threes.

In
the week since their getaway he watched, or tried to watch, Willow plan the event,
but she wouldn’t allow him to touch her calendar or be privy to any of the
happenings. Every time he asked, she distracted him with, well, with her. All
he knew was the family car would be picking them up at seven to take them to a
restaurant. What he really wanted to do is get her back to their apartment at
the marina and recreate their weekend.

Their
apartment. He smoothed down his suit jacket. Everything that was once his was
now theirs. At last he entered the car, slipping across the leather seat to
join his wife.

Well,
one thing was his and his alone. He took in his gorgeous bride. Dressed in a black
strapless gown, with her hair swept up and light makeup, the word gorgeous didn’t
accurately describe her. He ran his hand through his hair. “Good evening
beautiful Mrs. Van Ayers.”

“Hello
Mr. Van Ayers.” She slid over and gave him a kiss.

“Please
tell me this is a big surprise and we aren’t having a business dinner, but
instead we are going to a hotel or somewhere.” He kissed her again, a light one
to not mess up her makeup. “Alone.” Maybe the worst thing that happened could
be they stood the Hartfords up, but with his plan he would only have to take
the fall and keep Willow out of the line of fire.

She
pressed her palm to his cheek. “I am sorry, but we have reservations at The
Heights and your big clients are meeting us there.”

All
right, she got into The Heights on a Friday night. Could be a good sign or a
bad one. The proper restaurant only meant the proper restaurant. They were
still open to a whole host of variables that could wrong. He tilted his head.

Dimitri
drove them through Beverly Hills. Willow took his hand and sat back. “I offered
to have a car service pick up the Hartfords, but they are coming separate and
Ms. Hartford’s secretary said it wasn’t necessary.” She glanced at him out of
the corner of her eye.

“That
was very kind of you.” He stared at her. Could be her plan was to get the
Hartfords drunk and they wouldn’t remember the evening, therefore the car
service.

She
simply smiled and crossed her legs revealing a slit right above her knee,
tasteful but tantalizing, and above all else distracting.

“Are
you trying to torture me?” He traced his finger along the bit of skin showing.

“It’s
not torture when you know you will be relieved. Then it’s anticipation.” She
squirmed in the seat, making the dress rise up a bit.

“From
where I’m sitting, it’s torture.”

“Would
it make you feel better if I told you I have something for you?” She opened her
handbag.

Nothing
he wanted would fit in her purse. He used her move and shrugged.

With
a shake of her head she pulled a little black box and opened it, revealing two
cufflinks with dark brown stones. “You got me some quartz, and when I saw this
smoky quartz today I knew you had to have it.”

He
leaned over to admire them.

“Smoky
quartz boosts business creativity.” She reached for his wrist, took off his gold
cufflink and replaced it with his new one. “It also opens up your perceptive
paths. I know work has been stressful.”

“Slate
really wants me involved in this co-op, and I want to make sure it’s right.” He
swore Willow was clairvoyant even if she denied it. “I’m unsure about his
partner and their collateral. I know what Slate owes on his mortgage for the
gallery.”

“You
are just being more careful because he’s your friend, that’s good.” She lifted
his wrist.

“I
just don’t want him to get clouded by the opportunity if it’s not right.” The
stone didn’t match his tie, but Willow gave them to him and they had a story
that meant more than coordination. “I need more perceptive paths for sure.”

“It’s
also the stone of endurance.” She glanced up to his eyes and leaned forward
giving him a quick shot of her cleavage.

Without
hesitation he offered her his other wrist. “I want endurance.” Especially later
in bed.

One
side of her mouth lifted in a knowing, naughty grin and she replaced the second
cufflink. “You don’t have that issue.” She put his other cufflinks in the box
and pulled a tie with a brown swirl out of her bag. “I also brought this with
me. I wouldn’t want you not to match.”

The
strip of silk unrolled like a ribbon from her hand, and he stopped short of
taking it.

“What’s
wrong?”

How
did she learn about him down to the tie? “Nothing.”

“Do
you need help?”

“Yes.”
Help, and a lot of other things, especially if they were going to make it
through dinner and on to endurance activities.

She
unknotted his tie with expertise and pulled it out from under his collar.

Once
more he stared down at her chest, but rather than taking in her assets, he
noticed she wore the necklace he gave her for the holiday. “If the quartz you
gave me has a meaning, what does the one I gave you mean?”

Her
cheeks flushed as she looped the new tie around his neck.

“Don’t
hold back now.” He took her hands and helped her with the knot.

“It’s
the love stone, love in marriage.”

“Then
I picked the right one without even realizing it.”

She
used the tie to pull him toward her. “I guess the stone worked.”

“Indeed.”
Forgetting the lipstick, he indulged and kissed her, opening his mouth to get a
little appetizer before dinner.

The
car stopped and Dimitri cleared his throat and coughed.

As
she pushed him back, he groaned.

“Everything
will be fine.” She wiped his lower lip then straightened his tie and collar.

“Of
course it will,” he said, mainly to convince himself. Thus far, everything was
too smooth. Rather than it calming him, his stomach twisted. Millicent could
find fault in anything.

“Let’s
go.”

Dimitri
opened the door and helped Willow out.

Randolph
followed and took her hand, opening the door for them. Unlike the last dinner
where loud music bolted through him and he waded through a crowd of people, he
was met with soft piano music, a classic dim lit interior and a maître d’ in a
tuxedo. “Van Ayers.”

“We’ve
been expecting you.” The maître d’ made a note on a piece of paper. “Would you
like to wait for the others in your party?”

“Would
you mind if I checked the table?” Willow practically whispered.

“Of
course. It is the one in the back you requested for your meeting.” The man
nodded and led them back. “I also have the list of wine we keep for your
family.”

She
remembered the table and the wine. Obviously, his wife put some thought into
their evening. He tried to inhale. “I could use some wine.” Or preferably a
glass of Scotch or four.

Willow
tangled her arm in his and assessed the table. “Would you mind giving the list
to my husband along with a glass of your…” She paused and took a small slip of
paper out of her purse. “…Glenden 27-year-old Single-Malt Scotch.”

He
glanced over to see the paper. She ordered his Scotch, his favorite Scotch.

“Of
course, Mrs. Van Ayers.” The man nodded. “I take it the table is to your
liking?”

“Perfect.”
She smiled.

“I
will go look for the rest of your party.” The maître d’ left.

Willow
led him to where she wanted him to sit. “Are you all right?”

“You
ordered my Scotch.” He pulled out the chair next to him and waited for her to
sit.

“Yes.”
She sat and took his hand as he took his place.

At
last he managed to pluck the little scrap paper out of her hand. “You took
notes.” While he expected to find a list of items not to forget for their
dinner, he found something quite different. “What is this?”

“Nothing.”
She held her hand out.

“Loves
bacon, hates runny egg yolks, light lunch but wants something sweet in the
afternoon, prefers red meat but will eat anything at dinner, likes a before
dinner drink, likes his dessert, especially any cake, sneaks a soda when he
thinks no one sees him drinking it.” He read her note aloud. Underneath she
noted some of his favorite brands, including the Scotch and two last lines. “Prefers
extra starch on his shirts, make sure to remind Rosa. Ask about the boots in
the closet.”

“Randolph.”
She retrieved her cheat sheet on him. “That wasn’t for you.”

“It’s
all about me.”

Her
cheeks reddened. “I just didn’t want to forget certain things.”

No
one ever took the time to know him like his wife. Maybe his worries about the
evening were unfounded. “What do you want to know about boots?”

“The
ones with the buckles and the zippers.”

His
mind flashed on the pair in question. “I bought them in graduate school and
never wore them.”

“But
you wanted to.” She touched his chin.

“I
suppose.”

“I
want you to go with what you want and wear them for me.”

“Just
the boots and nothing else.” He raised his eyebrows and leaned in to kiss her.

She
put her hand up to his lips. “Then later I’ll just wear the nothing else, but
now you must let me play hostess.”

“You’re
right.” He took her hand and kissed the back, wanting the dinner to be a
success more for her than him.

They
both stood when Millicent came around the corner with the maître ‘d. “My
brother is running late.” She barked. “I have no idea what he’s doing, he’s not
working.”

“Good
evening to you, Millicent.” He rushed over and led her to the chair on the
other side of him. “So glad you could join us.” Millicent was already in a
mood. His chest constricted. Ever since he knew the Hartfords they traveled as
a pair.

She
shook her head and plopped into the chair. “Well, well, this is different. Much
better than before.”

Where
was that Scotch? Leave it to his client to state the obvious. He broke out into
a sweat and glanced at Willow. His wife seemed stuck. He needed to bail her out
and opened his mouth.

“Well,
I thought I would go for something a little off the beaten path.” Willow spoke
at last.

Oh
no. He grabbed the edge of the table. When riled up, Willow could whip words
with the best of them.

“I
tried to get reservations at the local sports bar, because I really thought you
may enjoy some fried foods and beer, but they were booked.” Willow opened her
bag and took something out.

A
flash of metal caught his eye. Willow brought a gun. He found the strength to
lift his hand. His wife was going to kill Ms. Hartford, and with all the
witnesses around even with the best attorneys at his disposal he would never be
able to clear her name.

With
wide eyes Millicent stared at her.

Willow
put her hand behind her back and made her way around the table.

“Why
don’t we choose a wine?” Maybe a red would mask the blood.

“Instead,
I opted for my second choice with my husband’s first rate clients, and a little
gift I made especially for you.” She bent down by Millicent and held out her hand,
revealing a little metal tin.

“Heart-tea?”
Millicent turned to him and back to the tin.

“Yes,
I custom blend teas, and this one is for you.” She took Millicent’s hand and
placed the tin in her palm. “This one contains Rhodiola for strength, athletes
even use it.”

“Oh.
A tea named after me.” Millicent held the tin up. “I like it.”

Willow
gave her a broad smile.

His
wife calmed the beast. He exhaled and went to sit when the maître d’ appeared
again with Vincent and Nan.

Nan?
Did Willow invite Nan?

“Hello
everyone, Chiquita.” Nan waved.

Willow
straightened and turned to her.

“I
thought this was a business dinner.” Millicent put the tea aside and stood,
glaring in Willow’s direction. “Last time it was assistants. How are we
supposed to conduct a meeting? There is a protocol here with invitations.”