Enraptured (3 page)

He walked around the bar to join me where I sat. “Dreams are for romantics,” he admitted as he leaned against the cushion. “I’m a pragmatist. I have goals. And at the top of that list is doing whatever it takes to protect my family.”

“I got that, too,” I said softly.

He took my hand in his. “And I know you feel the same way,” he murmured. “
Which is why I chose you as my bride.” He spun my wedding ring on my finger. “If I did dream, only someone like you could complete it.”

I tried to pull away but he held me fast. “Drew,” I said with a subtle shake of my head.

“What?” he queried so softly it made all the hair on my arms and up along the back of my neck stand on end. “Is it not appropriate for a groom to woo his bride?”

I looked away. Those blue eyes were still lethal to my resolve. “I need time. This is a lot to take in.”

He was undeterred as he pulled me closer to that bare chest. “You are safe with me, dear Rachel. No matter what road we take. The slow road,” he said as he cupped my face with one hand, trailing on tender fingertip along my jawline. “Or the fast,” he whispered lethally as he grabbed me up against his hard body so fast and so powerfully it took my breath away. I stared at him, open-mouthed, completely uncertain of what he might do next.

If the conception of our child was any indication, he was still a force with which to be reckoned. He took what he wanted, no matter what that might be.

From the look in his eyes, I knew that was me.

Unexpectedly, he softened.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered before he bent for a kiss, which he deepened almost immediately to test my resolve. Just as I began to resist, he pulled away. His eyes were hard as stone. “Still mooning over your lost love?”

I glared at him. “You may be used to life changing on a dime, but I am not. I can’t will myself to stop feeling. If I did, I would have been over you in that Los Angeles courtroom.”

“So when exactly did you get over me, Rachel,” he pondered as he brushed the hair from my face.

I looked away. “You know the answer to that.”

“I just want to hear you say it,” he said softly. “Tell me that you’ve never been over me.” His hand slid down my arm. “Even with his hands on your body, a part of you belonged to me. And you know it.”

I closed my eyes. My stomach recoiled yet again, unaccustomed to the stress of yet another
fruitless confrontation. “Drew, please.”

“The only reason you don’t want me to touch you is because you know you don’t want to fight me at all. You burn for me. You always have. You want to give in, to feel my kiss on your mouth, to feel
me buried so deep within you that we can’t even tell where I end and you begin. Remember, Rachel,” he whispered as he nuzzled my neck.

I shuddered in spite of myself.
“This is happening too fast,” I pleaded as I pushed my hands against his strong chest.

“Is it?” he queried as he nibbled at my ear. “I’ve wanted you since that day on the beach, when I felt your soft, supple body beneath mine.
So soft, so warm,” he murmured as his lips made their way along the sensitive slope of my neck. “I knew then I wanted to lose myself within you. But you made me wait long arduous months to love you, and then you made me wait an entire year to marry you. But you’re mine now. By God if I’m waiting another day,” he decided as he rose from the sofa. He swooped me into his arms before I could protest, and then swallowed anything I might say in a passionate kiss.

He carried me toward the bed outside on the sand. He laid me gently before following me down, his body covering mine. “Drew,” I started again but he si
lenced me with yet another kiss, this one more scorching than the last. I felt his body harden against me, reminiscent of the night our child was conceived. Things were escalating quickly, and I knew if I was going to stop this runaway train, I had to do it quickly. I pushed him away. “No,” I said.

He was breathing heavily as he stared down at me. “You left me because you thought I didn’t want you
. Feel me, Rachel,” he instructed as he pressed harder against me. “I’ve always wanted you. I’ve never stopped.”

“I left you because you manipulated me,” I clarified. “And you’ve never stopped. If you really want to be my husband, respect me as your wife. Please,” I added as I stared into those cloudy blue eyes.

He stared at me for a long time, no doubt recalculating how to handle me. I breathed a sigh of relief once he muttered, “Fine,” as he rolled away from me. His face was hard as he looked down at me from where he stood beside the bed, his body still reaching for me. “But you are making this much harder than it has to be. We are bound together for life. No amount of pining for another man will change that.”

I took a deep breath as I watched him stalk back to the bar and pour himself another drink. He killed it in one swallow, before putting his shirt back around his shoulders and leaving the room to find solace, or distraction, with his friends.

I woke to the sun streaming through the netted fabric surrounding the bed, and the rhythmic sound of the waves hitting the shore. As I blinked myself back into consciousness, I realized the heavy weight across my waist was Drew’s arm, draped protectively across my middle. He was completely naked as he dozed next to me, but I supposed the white gold band around his finger entitled him that right if nothing else. I eased up into a sitting position, and the nausea hit just like Old Faithful. Worse, I had to climb over Drew to get to the crackers and the pitcher of water on his side of the bed. I gently nudged him onto his back to reach for the crackers, and he groaned in his sleep as he pulled me into a tight embrace.

“Rachel,” he murmured, half-asleep.

I fought another powerful wave of nausea. “I need some water, Drew.”

“I need you,” he murmured as he ran his hand along the curve of
my hip.

“I’m sick,” I insisted in a shaky voice that must have convinced him I was telling the truth.

He wiped his eyes as he pulled himself from his sleepy stupor. “Lay back,” he instructed as he sat up to pour me a glass of water. I slumped back against the pillows and watched as he opened the package of crackers.

He was naked and playing my nursemaid. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. “Well, this is romantic. I guess this is why you get married first, then pregnant,” I quipped as he handed me a few bland crackers to chew.

He smiled. “Perhaps.” He snuggled up next to me, his hand light against my tummy. “But I wouldn’t change it,” he said as his thumb brushed softly against my skin. “I can’t think of a mother more perfect for my child. My children,” he added.

I couldn’t help but melt
a little at his words. I had longed to hear them for so long. The contrasts with my first husband, Zach, were night and day, and that didn’t have one thing to do with the money. I could have been in a trailer, with barely enough money in the bank to make the rent. As long as I had someone who wanted my child as much as I did, who shared the journey with as much anticipation and awe, I was the richest woman in the world. I placed my hand on his. “Thank you, Drew.”

His eyes met mine. There was a catch in his voice as he said, “No
, my darling. Thank you.”

When he reached for a kiss, I didn’t deny him. His palm spread against my stomach, as if channeling the affection to our tiny offspring. There was true concern in his eyes as he pulled back.
“Still feel queasy?”

“A little,” I admitted, and he handed me a few more crackers. He cuddled me close as I fought back the ebb and flow of nausea one tiny cracker at a time. He stroked my hair with his hand, periodically placing soft kisses on my forehead.

It was the first morning in a long time I wasn’t running to the toilet for an hour of misery as my body struggled to cope with all the new changes taking place within it.

We made it to the dining room in time for brunch. Troy gave Drew some good natured ribbing about our late rising, which he neither confirmed nor denied.
My new husband merely smiled and draped an arm possessively around my shoulders.

We were married in the eyes of the world, even if we had yet to consummate our union. No one around us would have been any the wiser with his attentive, affectionate behavior.
We sailed around the island in Troy’s luxury yacht, named
Paradise Lost
, proudly boasting its very own Cayman Islands flag. I concealed my smirk as I thought about the lessons I could teach young Master Jonathan about the Cayman Islands, and the kind of people who might keep their money there. I was certainly right in their midst as they drank bottle after bottle of champagne, while I chugged ginger ale like it was the elixir of life.

I was up on deck getting some fresh air when our fine host, Troy De Havilland found me. “Are you all right?” he asked as he inspected my pale complexion.

“I probably should have stayed on solid ground,” I offered with a grimace.

He joined me on the bench where I sat. “Ah, but then it wouldn’t have been as much fun,” he crooned with that charming smile that had won him election after election.
“You are like a ray of sunshine, Rachel. It pleases me greatly that you are now part of our family.” He glanced out at the ocean. “That is who Drew is to us, you understand. He takes care of us and we take care of him. It’s a very elite club and we don’t let just anyone in.” He patted my hand. “I knew from the moment we met you would polish his rough edges.” His touch lingered. “You’re a woman who is unafraid to be soft. And that is a beautiful thing.”

I pulled my hand back. “Thank you,” was all I could offer.

He regarded the gesture thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t point out how cruel our world can be. It’s important to make the right kind of friends because we look out for each other. And we reward loyalty handsomely.”

My eyebrow arched. “And for those who don’t?”

He chuckled deep in his throat, and those picture-perfect blue eyes turned icy. “I’m sure you won’t have to worry about that, my dear. You are a smart woman, after all.”

“Am I?” I mused as I took another drink from the crystal flute of ginger ale I nursed.

“Obviously,” he drawled easily. “In just two years, you’ve gone from a childless, middle-class teacher to one of the most important people in the Fullerton family. That’s quite an accomplishment.”

I glared at him as I straightened my spine. “What exactly are you implying?”

He chuckled again as he patted my hand with a firmer touch. “No offense intended, of course. I certainly never bought into the gold-digging rumors, persistent though they were.” I tried to pull my hand back but he held my fingers in a firm grip. “In my line of work, reputation is everything. I’ve personally seen it make and break careers for almost two decades.” He allowed my hand to slip from his fingers. “Your husband is poised to begin a new and exciting phase in his life. I just would like to be sure that as his wife, you are committed to supporting him as he does what is necessary to fulfill his family’s long-term goals.”

I straighte
ned my shoulders. “Rest assured that I will do whatever it takes to protect my family.”

Our eyes met and held as he processed the meaning of my words. There was no love lost and he had to know that, even if
he was on his best behavior the rest of the evening. Their stay on the island was coming to an end the following day, which was a huge relief. I hated the pretense and the subtle innuendo that drove most conversations we had. There was a familiarity there that discomforted me, as though by marrying Drew I had been unknowingly inducted into their little club with its undefined ownership privileges.

When we all danced in the sand that night, and I was forced to share more than one aggravatingly close embrace with the good senator, I couldn’t escape to our private suite fast enough. I felt like I had to keep an eye over my shoulder to ensure he wouldn’t follow.

When I mentioned it to Drew that night, he dismissed my concerns easily. “He’s perfectly harmless, I assure you,” he said with a knowing smirk.

“I’m not so sure his constituents would agree,” I pointed out. “Especially when he’s voted against measures to help the least among them rise above their meager circumstances.”

He rolled his eyes. “You sound just like Alex.”

My response was quiet. “I don’t consider that the insult that you intend it to be.”

His eyes were hard as he glanced me over. “Maybe that’s part of the problem. Maybe Troy senses on some level that your loyalty is divided. Your comments about Teton Tech were certainly enough to give him pause.” Before I could argue my case, he held up a hand. “But that’s a topic for another time.”

He walked around the sofa where I sat and perched on the other end. “There’s also some history there, Rachel. He feels compelled to protect me because he was there throughout my tumultuous relationship with Elise. He warned me ahead of time that she could not be trusted. She showed him her true colors before I even knew there was an issue.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Elise is a beautiful woman. She has only one true currency, and that’s her sex appeal. Alex may have been her first affair, but he wasn’t her first target.”

His confession reminded me of what Sloane had said about Elise. “
She’s a climber, always has been
.”

“
So this was another test,” I surmised and he shrugged again.

“He wants to be sure I don’t walk into another buzz saw,” he explained.
“You’ve already left me once.”

I sighed.
“Fair enough. But it’s your ring I wear on my finger, Drew. I made my choice.”

“That’s what she said once upon a time,” he murmured softly, which silenced my argument. “The rumors were not kind once you left. And to be fair, neither Troy nor Sloane got to know you very well before you went back to Texas last year.” He reached for a tendril of my hair that curved around my cheek. “You’re not the only one who needs a little time to figure things out.”

“Fine,” I conceded. It was disheartening to realize that I would never fully shake the reputation of being a gold-digger, and it was somehow my burden to bear to prove it wasn’t true.

To Drew’s credit, he treated me with the utmost respect through every social interaction, which helped ease that burden.
I thought perhaps that might end once our hosts left, but Drew remained on his best behavior. He suggested a walk around the island that following afternoon, before leaving me to nap once we returned to the villa. It was Drew and not Chantale who brought me a late afternoon snack, and he even rubbed my calves and my feet while I read a bit in bed before the sun went down.

We ate dinner by candlelight on the terrace, where the staff stayed mostly to the shadows to tend our needs as unobtrusively as possible.

He made no demands. He was charming and funny and delightful as we discussed all those things we had somehow missed over our chaotic courtship. We talked about movies and music, books and art. I swirled my constant companion, my ginger ale, around in my glass. “Why didn’t you tell me your mother was an artist?” I finally asked.

He looked down into his own wine glass. “I don’t know,” he answered at last. “Habit, I suppose. I generally don’t speak of my parents at all.
The past is usually better off left exactly where it is, well behind us for a reason.”

I said nothing. I just watched the emotions cross his face and waited.

“We can’t change what is done,” he continued softly, “only how we move forward. And I wanted to spare Jonathan the expectations of all the generations that came before him. That’s an awful lot of weight to put on a little boy’s shoulders.”

“You should know,” I said softly.

He shrugged. He wasn’t as bitter as Alex. Instead he was resigned. “My father came from a different time. Things were very black and white in his world.”

“Are they not in yours?”

His eyes met mine. “Not anymore.”

I looked away, but he kept talking.

“I never understood how my father could have married my mother. They were so vastly different. He was cold and calculating, she was warm and intuitive. He was business-minded and logical, she was endlessly creative and highly emotional. He was a hard core realist, while my mother was a dreamer with her beautiful head in the clouds. She lived life on another plane of how it could be, rather than how it was. I’m sure it frustrated Father on a continual basis. But he remained devoted to her until his dying breath. I think she truly completed him somehow. She softened his edges. She made him human, even when he was anything but.” He glanced away. “I was really her only project that failed in that respect. Until you came along, anyway.” His eyes glittered in the candlelight. “She would have loved you.”

I smiled
. “I’m sure I would have loved her, too. Alex said that Jonathan gets a lot of his personality from her.”

The words were out o
f my mouth before I could reconsider them. The mere mention of Alex’s name caused Drew’s jaw to clench. He raised his nearly empty glass and Chantale was quick to refill it.

“I’m sorry, Drew,” I offered softly. He quickly dismissed any apology.

“For once Alex speaks the truth,” he murmured. “Jonathan is a lot like his grandmother. And I’ve never been able to figure out if that is his saving grace or his curse.”

“His saving grace is that he’s his own person. He’s got this big, beautiful heart and robust, eager spirit. He’s the best of all of you combined. That’s what children are. They are perfected creatures of who we could only hope to be.”

He smiled absently as he stared at my face, contemplating my words. “Then I cannot wait to meet our little miracle and discover the person she is meant to be.”

I couldn’t help but giggle. “You sound so certain it is going to be a girl.”

“She would have to be,” he murmured. “To be a perfect Fullerton, she would have to be a female.” He toasted me.

I fought a losing battle with my eyelids over dessert, so Drew walked me back to our honeymoon suite on the sand. I was a little embarrassed as he tucked me in, and more than a little apprehensive that he would attempt to seduce me once more.