Chocolate Kisses (10 page)

There
was a back stairway—the servants’ stairs, she thought ironically, wondering
whether Ned had ever had a reason to use these stairs before now. He held her
hand tightly as he led her along the second-floor hallway to the room in which
she’d washed up and dressed for the party a few hours ago. Once they were
inside, he locked the door and gathered her into his arms. “I almost dove into
the tub with you this afternoon,” he confessed, unclasping her barrette and
fluffing her hair loose about her shoulders.

“I
almost invited you to dive in,” she admitted.

He
smiled, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight that filtered through the curtains
by the bed. “We should have done it,” he said, tugging his bow tie until it
hung in two narrow red ribbons. “We should have forgotten all about the
cotillion and spent the rest of our lives in the tub.”

“No.
In fact, I should be downstairs right now—”

“Edie’s
taking care of everything,” he said, sliding his jacket from his shoulders. He
removed the onyx links pinning his cuffs and then the matching studs adorning
the front of his shirt. Claudia recalled her little fantasy of him stripping
off his tuxedo. The reality was much more enthralling.

“Are
you sure? I don’t want anything to go wrong. And Edie doesn’t like me.”

“As
long as she’s in charge of the kitchen, she loves you,” he reassured her.
“Running the kitchen is all she ever wanted to do.”

“She
wanted to destroy my cakes,’ Claudia muttered, her gaze fixed on the crisp
white front of Ned’s shirt as he removed the last stud. “I don’t know why she
suddenly turned nice.”

“I
gave her a kiss,” he explained. At Claudia’s startled look, he grinned and
tugged his shirttails free of his trousers. “One of your chocolate kisses. A
single bite and she understood why I’m crazy about you.”

“My
kisses, huh.” Claudia was aware of the tightness in her voice as her vision
filled with the magnificent sight of his naked chest, a plane of streamlined
muscle accented with a dart of black hair. “You want me for my kisses.”

“For
starters. He tossed his shirt aside, then reached for her. She automatically
lifted her hands to his head, combing her fingers through the mop of his hair
and tracing the warm, responsive skin of his face. His deep sigh caused his
chest to vibrate .

He
took the kiss he wanted, sliding his tongue deep, filling her mouth as he
sought and found the zipper at the back of her dress. She felt a brief chill as
he drew it down to her waist, then a flash of heat as he returned to undo the
clasp of her bra. If there was a cotillion going on downstairs she didn’t know
about it. If the future of her company was at stake she didn’t care. All that
mattered was Ned’s hands on her back, his mouth on hers, his kisses sweeter and
more complicated than anything she’d ever concocted in her kitchen.

Her
dress tumbled to the floor at her feet, and then her bra, her slip, her
stockings. Ned guided her hands to his trousers and she opened them, refusing
to think beyond the moment, the power of his hardness bulging against the
smooth gray fabric, the ragged tempo of his breath as she eased his briefs over
his hips and down his long, well-toned legs.

Ned
scooped her into his arms and carried her to the grand four-poster. He joined
her on the crisp linen sheets, stretching out on his side and gazing lovingly
at her body as it lay in the spill of moonlight. “You’re so beautiful,” he
whispered before setting his hand loose on her skin, exploring the lines of her
collarbones and then the hollow between her breasts, the concave stretch of her
abdomen.

Her
hips shifted uncomfortably; her nipples grew taut in anticipation of his touch.
“You’re beautiful, too,” she said, skimming her hand along the ridge of his
shoulder and then roaming forward into the wiry hair that darkened his upper
chest.

“Oh,
God.” It was half a groan, half a growl. “I’ve been wanting this all day. I
don’t know how much longer I can wait.”

With
a mischievous smile, she moved her hand down across his abdomen, curious to see
if his condition bore out his words. At her glancing touch he groaned again.
She did, too.

He
grabbed her hand and pulled it away. Rising above her, he pressed her arms to
the mattress and bowed to kiss her breasts. “Everything about you tastes so
good,” he murmured, swirling his tongue over the beaded tip of one breast.
“Peppermint pink frosting doesn’t come close.”

“What
a relief,” she joked, although she was feeling far from relieved. Her body
surged under him, ached for him, felt uncomfortably empty and feverish. She
arched her hips and he rubbed against her, hot and heavy. They gasped in
unison.

“Claudia…”
He let go of her wrists and slid down her body, nibbling her belly, stroking
her navel with his tongue, grazing down farther until he pressed a fierce,
hungry kiss between her legs. When she was sure she couldn’t hold back any
longer, he kissed his way back up.

Her
body rose to meet his conquering thrust. She gripped his shoulders, clinging to
him as he withdrew and thrust again. She felt as if her heart had split in two,
her soul, her spirit, her very essence, all of it opening to let him in, to let
him take possession of her. She was his.

His
surges were deep, hard, shuddering. The muscles in his back flexed and
stretched; he wove the fingers of one hand into her hair while the other cupped
her bottom, lifting her to maximize every plunge, every sensation. The tension
inside her built to a wild, almost agonizing pitch—and then burst, releasing
her into ecstasy.

She
felt him hover in her arms, suspended at the peak, and then let go, sinking
down on her, relaxing his hands, his lips. “Claudia,” he sighed, a hushed,
prayer-like sound.

He
closed his eyes and let his head sink onto her shoulder. She stroked his
sweat-damp hair back from his face, feeling oddly protective of him. At that
one instant, as passion receded and left a sensuous languor in its place,
Claudia felt she and Ned were truly equals. She wasn’t the poor girl from the
local diner. He wasn’t the lord of Wyatt Hall. They were simply lovers.

Ned’s
breathing grew more regular, his head heavier as he dozed. Through the
stillness she heard the faint, distant sounds of the party downstairs.

Claudia
cuddled Ned to herself, aware of how transient this moment was. Soon reality
would return.

Tears
welled up in her eyes and she batted them away. She loved Ned, but as he’d
said, there was a tomorrow. And when it came, she would be a blue-collar
Mulcahey and he would be John Edward Wyatt IV.

The
gap was too wide; not even love could bridge it.

Chapter Nine

11:55
p.m.

“WHAT
DO YOU MEAN, this is your room?”

Ned
loitered in the doorway of the bedroom, watching as Claudia gathered her
clothing and assorted her toiletries. “I mean,” he said calmly, “this room was
mine when I was growing up.”

She
didn’t know why she should care that the room he’d let her use—the room in
which he’d made love to her—was
his
room and not just some anonymous
guest room. But she did care. And it bothered her.

She
was tired, edgy, anxious to get home. Downstairs, the party was over and the
guests had been replaced with a maintenance crew.

Claudia’s
hands trembled as she folded her jeans and stuffed them into her tote bag. She
couldn’t look at the rumpled bed. Seeing it would only remind her of what had
occurred there a few hours ago, what had occurred in her heart. What would
never occur again.

The
party was definitely over.

“Please,
Claudia. Stay the night. Stay with me,” he said.

She
glanced at him and felt her refusal lodge in her throat. She could think of nothing
she’d rather do than stay the night with him, stay the year, stay for all
eternity with him. But she couldn’t. Just as making love with him had been
inevitable, leaving him was inevitable. She’d realized that when they’d emerged
from the bedroom and headed downstairs. Three waiters had assailed her with
questions. One of the debutantes had flounced over to Ned, grabbed his arm and
squealed, “Amy’s so lucky to have such a hot uncle. Come dance with me.”

Claudia
hadn’t seen him again—until now. She’d packed up the leftover food to be
delivered to a soup kitchen in Bridgeport, lugged her equipment out of the van
and then trudged up the stairs to gather her personal belongings.

She
had assumed Ned had left the house when the other guests had, but now he was
standing in the doorway, blocking her exit. His tie dangled from his open
collar, a graphic reminder of the hasty, eager way he’d undressed earlier. His
eyes, while sleepy from the late hour, were as bright with longing as they’d
been then.

He
and Claudia had been good in bed. Better than good. She had given him
everything. But she couldn’t give it again, not when they would only be going
their separate ways tomorrow.

“You
have all your stuff here,” he went on. “Why not stay?”

“If
I didn’t trust you,” she murmured, “I’d think you told me to take a bath and
change here at Wyatt Hall just so I’d have a change of clothes with me.”

He
didn’t deny it. She glanced his way and found him smiling sheepishly. “So I was
planning ahead,” he admitted without remorse. “I brought a change of clothes
for myself, too.”

“Do
you bring all your girlfriends to Wyatt Hall to seduce them?”

His
smile faded. “No. I didn’t seduce you, Claudia. I made love with you.”

“Did
you really?”

His
gaze narrowed into a frown. “What would you call it?”

Love
, she thought. She’d made love, given
love, reveled in love. She wanted to say the word aloud, pledge it and hear him
say he felt exactly as she did.

But
she was afraid she wouldn’t hear what she wanted, so she said nothing at all.

He
came up behind her, reached around her and stilled her trembling hands against
the tote bag. “Here,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and
pulling out a small hinged box. “Take it. Don’t say no. It’s Valentine’s Day.”

Her
heart stopped beating, then started again, accelerating to a crazy speed.
Holding her breath, she opened the box. In a bed of velvet sat a beautiful
round chocolate kiss.

“What?”

“Oops—wrong
box,” he said, shoving it aside and groping in another pocket for a second box.

The
shiny gold ring inside featured a large ruby flanked by two smaller diamonds.
“Oh, my God,” Claudia gasped.

“Put
it on.”

“Ned—”

“Don’t
say no.” He pulled the ring out of the box and slipped it onto the ring finger
of her left hand. Then he turned her to face him. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“I
can’t accept this,” she said, even as her gaze lingered on the ring. It fit
perfectly.

“Why
can’t you accept it?”

“Well,
it would imply…”

“That
we’re going to get married,” he completed the thought. He slipped his thumb
under her chin and tilted her face up so their eyes met. He looked solemn
and—if she dared to believe it—very much in love. “Is that a problem?”

She
couldn’t shake the fear that it
was
a problem, but she wasn’t ready to
face it yet. “You didn’t steal this from your mother, did you?”

He
smiled slightly. “No. You’re the jewel thief, not me.” When she stiffened
indignantly, he hastened to add, “I bought it this afternoon. The jeweler down
on Main Street was open for last-minute Valentine’s Day business. He must have
known someone might get notions of marriage at the eleventh hour.”

“But
your sister hates me,” she reminded him.

“So
don’t marry her. Marry me.”

No
more evasion. He’d proposed and asked if she had a problem. It was time to
confront the issue head-on. “I’m a Mulcahey, Ned.”

“Do
you want to keep your last name? No problem.”

“I’m
being serious. The closest I’ve ever gotten to the world you live in is through
the kitchen door.”

“The
world I live in is right here.” He tapped his chest in the vicinity of his
heart. “And it’s right there—” he gestured toward the bed. “you’re already in
my world, Claudia, and I want you to stay.”

There
was no sense hiding from her feelings. More than anything, she wanted to stay
in his world. “I love you,” she told him.

“Then
say yes.”

“Yes.”

He
folded his arms around her and covered her mouth with his. His kiss spoke
eloquently of love, of joy, of growing desire. Before things got out of
control, he pulled back and caught his breath. “You understand what this
means,” he warned.

Panic
twinged inside her. Did it mean she would have to host pretentious galas like
that evening’s cotillion? To become a garden-club matron and a dues-paying
member of the historical society?