Rags to Rubies (17 page)

Agnes brushed the waves of her French bob. “Of course, I see him as a big teddy bear. Have you known him long?”

“Not long, but I believe I know him well.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Agnes crowed. “No one really does. Know him, I mean. Very esoteric. Every time I think I have him figured out…” She hesitated, pursing her lips toward the mirror and applying a deep shade of red.

Grace waved off the rouge Agnes offered and critically checked her own reflection, pinching her cheeks and reapplying the berry stain, then a dusting of powder.

“What a marvelous dress.” Agnes smoothed down her loosely fitting, drop-waist ensemble. “You look spectacular. All the men have noticed. Serves Jared right,” she said gaily. “He needs a bit of competition.”

Grace changed the subject. “What can you tell me about Jared?” Was it simple curiosity or self-preservation that made her ask?

“His past? Oh, I doubt anyone knows that. Doesn’t seem to be attached to anyone or any place. It’s sad, really.” Agnes fluffed her bob again. “He never speaks of any family or friends, for that matter.”

“He’s an orphan and has never been able to find his parents or any relatives.” The words were uttered before Grace realized she might have made a mistake in telling Agnes what it seemed Jared had chosen not to reveal.

“Oh, dear.”

Grace breathed a sigh of relief when Agnes’s eyes grew somber and she shook her head.

“I didn’t know,” she said softly. A thoughtful moment passed, then Agnes quipped, “Well, it’s up to you and me, then, to make him happy, don’t you know.” Wrapping her arm once again through Grace’s, they exited the ladies’ room and made their way back toward the table.

****

“A sheba, that one,” Will said, his eyes on Grace as she and Agnes wove through the crowd.

“Have you looked closely at your wife lately, Will? Agnes doesn’t have to take a backseat to anyone in that department.”

“Bah,” he said, taking a drink from his hip flask. He pointed to a woman. “Now, Violet there,” he said, inclining his head toward a curly-headed, voluptuous redhead on the edge of the dance floor. “She’s a pip.”

Several men of varying ages surrounded the woman, vying for the next dance. She laughed, playing one man against another until two of the men seemed ready to go for each other’s throats. Violet smacked her feather fan against the chest of one of them while curling her index finger at the other. The randy victor backed her up onto the dance floor, grinning at his catch.

His eyes on the redhead, Jared asked, “Are you dipping into that, Will?”

“And if I am?”

Jared bit his tongue. “What happens if Agnes finds out?”

“She won’t. You’re turning into a flat tire, Jare. Here, I have something for you.” Will dug in his pocket. “I’m too drunk to do any good for myself, but you, you might get some use out of this.”

He pulled a room key from his dinner jacket and dropped it into Jared’s hand. “A little present from me to you,” he said conspiratorially. He swayed slightly and winked, folding Jared’s fingers around the key. “I keep a room here, just in case I don’t want to drive home, ya know. Won’t need it tonight,” he said, as he stared at Violet dancing with the young man who had one hand on her buttocks and was grinding against her to the rhythm of the music.

Jared started to protest, to say it wasn’t like that with Grace, but his friend had already fallen back into his chair and lowered his head to the table.

Damn! Suddenly he was everyone’s keeper? His life had certainly been less complicated two weeks ago. And why did he feel anything but contempt for his idiot friend? Probably because he liked Agnes and had finally figured out Will, in his immaturity, didn’t think he deserved anyone as beautiful as his wife. She adored him and didn’t care what he looked like, but Will didn’t feel he measured up, wasn’t rich enough, or good-looking enough, so he cheated with everyone and anyone who showed interest. Jared had seen the same disgusting scenario too many times over the years.

But tonight he felt an urge to set his friend straight even if it meant beating the hell out of him. Confound it! He didn’t like being responsible for anyone other than himself. He slipped the key into his pocket and turned to search for Agnes and Grace.

He saw Agnes stop several times, on the way back to the table, to introduce Grace to friends. She seemed in no hurry to return to her drunken husband. Agnes’s unhappy marriage had made her seek Jared out for comfort, for friendship. Now they had an understanding—about her life with Will and what she had actually needed from Jared.

“There you are,” Agnes sang. “I’m not leaving without a dance with my favorite partner.” The music was lively, and Agnes dragged him onto the dance floor while Grace danced with one of the other men at the table.

As the evening wore on, Jared noticed Grace danced almost every dance and drank more than her share of liquor. His friends at the table seemed determined to keep her glass full. He checked on her several times during the night. In spite of all that had transpired during the last week, she seemed able to put aside her worries and thoroughly enjoy herself.

He heard her explain to several of his friends that she lived in Chicago but was visiting in New York with her aunt for two weeks. No one questioned her further. No one seemed interested in really getting to know her, except Agnes, of course, and good manners would not allow her to pry.

At one point in the evening, Grace murmured to him, “Shouldn’t you be more congenial, pleasant...mingle, you know?”

He bent to nibble on her earlobe. “No one expects me to do anything other than what I damn well please. One of the benefits of being known as a scoundrel.” He cupped her face and ran a thumb over her bottom lip. “I intend to stay close by.”

Finally, Will sobered up enough to walk. Jared noticed his two friends dealt with the incident in the pattern they had set long ago. Agnes ignored Will’s behavior, guiding him toward the door at the end of the evening. She stopped long enough to invite Grace and him to a party the next evening at the Dussalt Estate on Long Island. Agnes begged them to come. “Please join us. It will be the last fling of the year before the cold sets in.”

Jared knew the Dussalt family and probably had an invitation sitting in the pile of mail he hadn’t bothered to open yet. He agreed to meet Will and Agnes the next evening and bring Grace.

The women hugged, and Agnes took Will by the hand, leaving just as the band began to play “Goodnight, Irene,” the traditional last song.

“We haven’t danced, Grace. Would you like to now?” Jared asked, holding out his hand.

As she placed her hand in his, he noticed how small and delicate it was compared to his own. Even in that she seemed vulnerable. He took her in his arms, placing his right hand on her bare back. Her smooth skin was cool and soft. He pulled her closer, feeling the firm roundness of her breasts against his chest. She laid her head against his cheek, leaning into him, cuddling and sighing. He realized he’d not paid close enough attention to the amount of alcohol she had consumed. His friends had been quick to fill her glass, even though he’d tried to keep them at bay.

“Are you all right, Grace?”

“Uh-huh,” she murmured softly and wrapped both arms around his neck as she leaned into him and swayed to the music. Several older women noticed the intimate position and raised their eyebrows. A few men smiled his way.

“Grace, we should go now,” Jared said, grinning, but she murmured an indistinct reply and only snuggled closer.

Amused by her lack of polite decorum, Jared finished the dance in that scandalous position, Grace’s arms wound around his neck, her eyes closed and a contented smile on her face.

He didn’t quite know what to do with her now. She wasn’t sloppy drunk but rather contentedly so, compliant and affectionate.

And he was stone cold sober.

“Let me help you with your wrap, love,” he said nibbling on her ear as he slipped the capuchin over her shoulders.

Turning, she tilted her head up to him and slipped both arms around his waist. Her eyes were half-closed, the corners of her mouth turned up in a silly little smile. Then she sighed. It was his Waterloo.

He bent his head and kissed her mouth softly, then her eyelids, her forehead, and temples, his attraction chipping away at his self-control. He found himself wanting to bestow his kisses everywhere, on every inch of her sweet body; she felt so good pressed against him.

“Get a room,” a stranger chuckled, passing by.

Jared fingered the key in his pocket.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” he said taking her hand and leading her to an elevator, where he pressed the number six after a glance at the gold key.

Chapter Twenty-Five

With Grace’s head resting on his shoulder, they arrived at Room 647. She blinked several times, trying to focus on the gold numbers on the door as Jared turned the key in the lock. He pushed the heavy door open with one arm and stood aside, guiding her into the room with his hand on the small of her back.

When she hesitated a few steps inside the room, Jared closed the door quietly and stood behind her, waiting, holding himself in check, giving her time to make up her mind. It seemed to him in those few moments an eternity flew by.

She finally turned and held out her hand, a feminine sign of affirmation. He took two determined steps toward her and crushed her lips with his own, pulling her lower body to his growing erection, one hand sliding into the low-backed dress.

His control was gone. His resolve was gone. All that remained was a burning desire to be buried deep within her.

His hand caressed her velvety bottom, deliriously pleased to find the absence of panties. Of any underwear at all. The thought of her delicious body naked under the silver gown, except for perhaps the garters and silk stockings, undid the last vestiges of his reserve.

He pulled her roughly against him, ravishing her mouth, pulling the aigrette and pins from her hair, tangling and twisting his fingers through the thick, dark locks.

She molded herself to him, stroking his back, running her nails over the hard firm muscles. His hands lifted her, pressing her tighter until all reasonable thought evaporated into mind-numbing heat.

This was insanity. He groaned into her mouth, “I want you,” his voice raw and demanding. “Do you understand me, Grace? I’m mad for you.” He couldn’t stop kissing her, asking her to open her mouth for him, parting her lips, invading, thrusting, devouring. Carnal pleasure of such intensity it stole the breath from his body. He feasted on her.

Finally, he took a step back, his breathing labored as if he’d just run a race. She smiled up at him with eyes half closed. Standing on tiptoe, she planted a series of virgin kisses over his face and neck, stopping at his mouth to nip and bite and run her tongue along the edge of his lower lip.

He stood very still, allowing her the intimacy, trying to slow his pounding heart to a manageable rate. He had wanted this for so long, dreamed of how perfect it would be. He knew he had to gain some control. She was a virgin, he an experienced man. This wasn’t how it should be, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

Barely conscious of his hands rising slowly to her shoulders, he lifted the straps of her dress so the silver fabric fell gently to her hips. He marveled at the perfection he had so often imagined. Creamy, firm mounds with brown-rose tips. He ran his hands over her breasts, feeling their softness and the puckered tips against his palms. When he pressed the peaks between his thumb and finger, she moaned and dropped her forehead to his chest, whispering his name in a sweet plea.

He lowered his head, taking one perfect bud between his teeth to bite and suck, at first gently, then harder, pulling her into his mouth.

“
Jared
.” Grace drew in a breath and arched herself against his lips. Familiar sensations rolled through his body, creating an ache he needed desperately to satisfy.

He could tell by her untutored response that she was responding to a surge of powerful emotions for the first time. He ran his tongue slick and wet over her other breast until she was mewling softly and had her fingers tangled in his hair.

The response of his body took him by surprise. He wasn’t some randy young buck, yet he ached to surrender to the feeling. He wanted to part her legs and thrust into her this very second, now, this moment. He wanted to sink deep into her warmth and claim it for himself. But with each moan, each time she murmured his name, each time she shuddered in his arms or responded enthusiastically to his touch, he grew increasingly agitated, then irritated.

Then angry.

Abruptly, he swept his hands beneath her knees and swung her into his arms. Placing her on the bed, he fanned her untamed curls against the crisp white pillow. Her breasts glistened, still slick from his eager tongue.

She moaned with closed eyes. “Please...Jared, please,” she said, now somewhere else, in a place between dreams and reality, consciousness and oblivion.

Jared sat in a chair next to the bed and touched his rock hard erection, gritting his teeth. Tiny beads of moisture covered his forehead. The muscles in his arms and groin were taut and trembling, his eyes hot with desire and fury.

What had happened to him? Had this tiny slip of a woman reduced him to a trembling idiot? A rough laugh escaped him for his own foolishness.

For the better part of an hour he watched her sleep, rubbing her hand because he had to touch her. She knew nothing about protecting herself like so many of the women he bedded. She knew nothing about holding back a part of herself so it was merely a physical coupling. Maybe in her inexperience she didn’t know the difference. But he did. He should warn her of the danger, of the pain.

Instead, he vowed this would not happen again.

Until he figured out what was happening to him.

Moonlight cascaded in through the sheer covered windows, cutting across the bed along one of Grace’s shoulders and softly illuminating the length of her body. At some point, he pulled up her dress and covered her, waiting patiently.