Текст книги "A black tie affair"
Автор книги: Sherrill Bodine
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 13 страниц)
CHAPTER
On Sunday the cab driver stopped several yards away from the entrance to the Belmont branch of the Chicago Yacht Club.
“This is as close as they let us get.”
Athena sat in the back seat, staring out the window toward the lake and the floating gray New England clapboard Yacht Club. She literally could not move, torn between cold, solid self-preservation, the status quo, and hot, fluttering eagerness to live dangerously. Could Drew be her destiny like Fred was Dottie’s? Or more likely, would Drew rip out her heart and this time she’d never recover?
“This is the place you wanted to go.” The cab driver’s impatient tone caused her to look up and catch his eyes in the rearview mirror. He didn’t look happy.
“This is the place you wanted to go,” he repeated louder, like she hadn’t heard him the first and second times.
If she hadn’t really wanted to come, she’d have stayed in bed with the covers pulled over her head the way she’d been doing for the past several months.
“Yes, this is the place. Thank you.” She paid the meter and threw in an extra five dollars for sitting like a lump, wasting his time.
The cab screeched away, merging onto Lake Shore Drive.
Still, Athena stood where he’d dropped her, clutching her canvas tote. If she and Drew were part of some grand Greek epic, or star-crossed lovers, best to get it over with instead of standing here getting sunstroke.
She meandered along the picturesque waterfront with docks holding boats, some old and classic, others new and sleek. On her right, the dry sail area looked like giant ship models on stands, waiting to be taken down and sailed away.
Now she could see the entrance with the guard dressed in white nautical gear.
Drew burst past him, running toward her. His blue polo shirt and swimming trunks made him look tan and fit.
Damn! He looks too adorably hot. But forbidden.
She clutched the tote to her chest like an anchor keeping her grounded. “Am I late?”
“No, you’re right on time.” Grinning from ear to ear, his eyes squinting nearly shut from the bright sunlight, he grabbed one of her hands, twining their fingers together. “C’mon, I moved my boat to the edge of the clubhouse.”
It seemed rude to insist unhand me. But serious self-preservation made her dig in her espadrilles. The whitecaps on the lake looked huge.
“The Skokie Lagoons are one thing. Fun. Great. But isn’t your Penguin awfully small for Lake Michigan?”
His genuine amusement made her smile back. “Yeah, way too small. We’re taking my Wally 80. C’mon, I’m double-parked.”
A huge, extremely modern, incredibly sleek boat took up all the parking spaces.
“It’s a yacht!”
“Yeah, remember, I race them.” He pulled her up the gangway onto a deck of teakwood big enough for a game of ping-pong.
He led her two steps down into the cockpit with a control panel of switches, dials, and gauges, and lined on two sides with wide, heavily padded blue leather benches.
“There are two staterooms and three heads, and that’s the owner’s aft cabin.”
Down a short hall and through an open door she saw cherry paneling and a wall-to-wall bed draped in Clayworth signature blue.
“Did you bring a bathing suit?” he asked, still holding her hand and her still letting him.
What am I doing!
She pulled her hand free of his warm, smooth fingers and shrugged. “I’m wearing it under my clothes. Only a precaution after getting wet last time we sailed. It’s too cold to swim in Lake Michigan yet.”
“We’ll see,” he said cryptically, like he had a secret. “C’mon back up.”
She followed and watched him toss blue cushions on the teak deck.
“Sit here and relax. I’ll motor out of the harbor before I hoist the sail.”
Relax? What am I doing here? This is impossible. I’m so wound up if I let go I’ll spin right off this boat.
Panic made her grab his arm. “Wait! You said you wanted to talk. Can’t we do it here? Not out there.”
“We’ll talk once we get out of the harbor. Relax,” he ordered again.
Recognizing his stubborn locked-jaw look, she faked indifference, dropping down and leaning one elbow on the cushions, like she had nothing better to do than watch him looking like the movie star Makayla called him, standing at the wheel of his ship, sailing off into adventure. Like Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean.
No. Not like Jack Sparrow. Love Johnny. Hated the gold teeth.
To keep her sanity, or at the very least maintain her nonchalant attitude, she dropped her eyes to watch the way the bow sliced through the lake. The fine bubbles and sizzle as the water passed the bow congealed into seahorses playing in the foam.
Fantasy. Like this.
But the past was no fantasy. It had helped to define her. And that fantasy needed to be put in its place once and for all. Tonight the past needed to be put to rest. And there could be no future, because of her dad.
So why did I come here tonight?
As they passed one big bulky boat in the harbor, three teenage boys, one with a blue Mohawk haircut, and a slightly older young man who seemed to be in charge, shouted and waved to them.
Drew waved back. “That’s my dad’s old Morgan 46. That’s Jeff and the kids from the Youth Center I’m teaching to sail. We were out earlier today. It’s a tub to sail. I think you’ll like this better.”
His smile was real. Not the surface charm he gave the world. It was like the moment he’d let her in at the museum.
I came here to finish what we started there. I came to make love with Drew. No promises. No future.
Instead of being stunned by her hot epiphany, she felt her body truly relax, relieved to let go of the entire pretense.
Maybe her longing could be labeled sexual attraction. After all, what did she really know about this adult Drew except what she’d learned secondhand from her dad and others, and, of course, from his public life as a retail mogul and his reputation as one of the most eligible men in town.
Maybe the Fates were actually doing her a favor. Maybe having sex with him would cure her. He might be a terrible lover. Selfish. Clumsy.
The memory of his kisses swept over her, leaving her weak in their wake.
Okay. Not clumsy. But probably selfish. Wanting everything his way. After all, he was a Clayworth, accustomed to getting what he wanted.
As soon as they cleared the harbor, he hoisted the sail and she felt the boat come alive beneath her.
A few minutes later he motioned her toward him. “Here, take the wheel.”
Shocked, she put her hands behind her back. “I don’t know how.”
“I’ll help you.”
The boat seemed to be in a rhythmic pattern of rolling and bouncing. To steady herself, she grabbed his outstretched hand and let him settle her between his body and the wheel.
She concentrated so hard on keeping her hands on the wheel she no longer felt the heaving beneath her. She forgot everything but the wind and Drew, warm and strong, looming at her back.
The farther out they went, the calmer the lake became, and the boat sailed smoothly across it.
“There, all right now,” he said softly above her right ear.
“You kept me busy so I wouldn’t notice the chop.”
Just like you used to do.
She smiled straight ahead, too confused to turn, for fear of a repeat of the night at the museum. Now she needed to buy time.
“You remember my sailing secrets.” He chuckled so close his warm breath stirred her hair falling over her right eye. “Ready for that swim? I’ve found a warm spot.”
Curiosity got the best of her, and she glanced over her shoulder at him. “How did you do that?”
“Environmental sensors.” He showed her the gauge. “Seventy-three degrees. Warm enough for you?”
“Yes.”
He pushed a button and the sail dropped. She watched him flip switches and push more buttons, and as if by magic a swim platform with a shower lowered and a ladder extended down into the water.
“I’m deploying two rafts on tethers to set up a swim zone. The boat will drift, so don’t go past the last raft.”
She looked around and saw nothing but water and sky, the sun still huge but lower to the horizon and redder.
“Is it all right to just drift out here?”
“I turned on radar and AIS with alarm zones. It’s high-tech privacy.” He looked deep into her eyes. “If anyone comes along to disturb us, alarms will go off. I’ve preset a five-mile zone.”
They couldn’t have been any more isolated. The world focused down to just the two of them. Like in her hallucination. Drew and Athena with nothing between them.
Now here they were, Drew and Athena with years of unrequited feelings, distrust, and the ever-present pain about her betrayal—and now her confusion about the Clayworths and her dad—between them.
She gave a stab at being rational. “Are you ready to talk?”
“I’m ready for a swim.” He pulled off his shirt. His muscles were defined, strong, and heavier.
She looked away and pulled off her own tank top and shorts. She’d worn her black one-piece instead of her skimpy bikini, which left little to the imagination.
But his eyes roamed over her and she felt naked anyway. Like they’d been the last time they swam. Naked in the moonlight.
She needed to do something to break the tension wrapping warm bands of anticipation tighter and tighter around her. Sheer preservation forced her to perform a clumsy dive into Lake Michigan.
The cold water struck her overheated skin and shock jolted through her, followed by exhilaration.
All at once Drew surfaced beside her. “Race you to the last raft.”
He sounded like he had when they were kids, daring her, pushing her. Laughing, she responded, slicing through the waves in her best crawl. Sometimes, when they were younger, he’d let her win.
Not today.
Today she needed to win on her own, not be given the prize. She stretched out, gave it the last ounce of her strength, speed, and endurance.
They reached the raft simultaneously.
They clung to it together. Her pulse raced from her head to her toes as the waves pushed their bodies closer and pulled them apart.
“It’s been a long time since we swam together,” he said. “You beat me fair and square.”
Still breathless, she almost laughed but couldn’t quite make it happen.
“Want to race back?”
“No, you told me to relax, remember?” She pushed away, floating on her back, letting the waves buffer her gently. She tried to enjoy it, but nothing seemed important except Drew and the warm, tingling anticipation of being with him here, now, at last. Right or wrong. Tonight she would make love with Drew Clayworth.
He paddled along beside her, keeping guard, making sure she felt safe within his boundaries. He smiled, his eyes watchful.
She wanted to turn toward him, wrap her body around him here in the water, and pull his head down to open her mouth for his kiss.
“Watch your head,” he called out.
Startled, she felt the stern looming over her.
Shivering, goose bumps covering her arms, she climbed up onto the swim platform.
He came up right behind her. “Here, take a hot shower.”
He turned it on, and she stepped under the water, loving how it warmed her cold skin.
“Tilt your head back. You have seaweed tangled in your hair.” His voice sounded gentle.
The dichotomy of hot and cold made everything seem surreal as she did what he asked.
His long fingers gently massaging her hair felt so sensual she closed her eyes with pleasure.
I don’t want this to be just about sex. I want it to be about understanding.
She opened her eyes, stepped away, and turned to face him. “We need to talk, Drew. Now.”
For a second he simply stared at her. She didn’t know what she’d do if he reached for her. Throw herself into his arms the way she wanted, or push him into the lake the way she should.
Finally he nodded. “I have a robe in the owner’s cabin for you. Warm up. I’ll meet you in the cockpit.”
She hung her wet suit in the head and slipped on the soft blue terrycloth robe. It really did cover her more than her tank top and shorts.
Drew, dressed in black shirt and trunks, must have pushed another button, because a table had appeared in the room where there wasn’t one earlier. A bottle of champagne chilled in a bucket, and beside it were cold shrimp, cheeses, and fruit.
“I thought you might be hungry.”
She looked at him standing there, gorgeous and charming, and it all seemed too much.
“What are you doing? What are we doing? We don’t speak for fifteen years. Let me preface that.” She lifted her chin and gazed off into space, trying to find the right words in the utter chaos of her feelings.
Her gaze fell deliberately and as coldly as she could muster, considering she felt ready to explode, onto his face.
“You ignore me for years. Then through no choice of our own, we’re thrown back together and all of a sudden you’re everywhere I turn. Pandora’s Box. Finding Bertha’s dresses. Funding exhibits at the museum. Nearly making love in my office, and now this!”
He poured her a glass of champagne and handed it to her. “Here, have a drink.”
“I don’t want a drink,” she insisted but took the glass anyway to pace around the room.
“What do you want, Athena?” he asked softly.
She turned to face him, placed the glass carefully on the table and flung up her chin.
“I want to know how you could so easily walk away from me that Christmas weekend,” she blurted out.
There! I’ve finally said it.
Years of yearning, of regret pushed open every door.
She saw herself follow him out to the porch on that long-ago Christmas Eve, press a soft kiss on the nape of his neck because the way he was sitting, so dejected, compelled her to touch him in that way. She remembered kneeling in front of him, tilting his chin up to gaze into his eyes. Saw the moisture on his face, which couldn’t have been from the falling snow.
The memories made it hard to breathe, but she forced herself to look into his eyes again.
“Do you remember what I said to you and what you answered that Christmas Eve?” His voice sounded raw, like the words were ripped out of him.
“Of course I remember,” she whispered, tears aching in the back of her throat. “You said, ‘I’m alone,’ and I said, ‘No, Drew, you’re not alone. I’ll always, always be here for you.’ ”
He nodded. “And then I picked you up in my arms. Like this.”
I should stop him.
There was no snow, no icy-cold wind whipping her hair across her face, but the desire felt the same—no, stronger—as he swept her up into his arms, holding her high against his chest.
He walked to the cherry paneling, not the cold stone side of the Clayworth mansion as he had that night, and he lowered her to the floor, pressing her back against the wood.
Now, like then, he dragged his mouth across hers. Gently bit her lips, the side of her throat, while his hands roamed over her body, making her flesh come alive beneath his touch. Her breasts swelled under his palms, and a tingling flow of desire caused her to move instinctively against him.
He slipped his hands inside her robe, like he had under her dress, cupping her buttocks to lift her to him. She’d ached and trembled, and tears filled her eyes. Like now.
“Then I said I love you, Drew. I’ve always loved you. We’ll always be together. You’ll never be alone again,” she gasped, her mouth moving against his.
Now, like that night, Drew stopped, grew rigid, and stepped back from her.
“You were seventeen, the daughter of valued friends. A virgin. I wasn’t. Clayworths, contrary to popular belief, have a code of honor. Honesty in life and work, love of family and friends, and an effort to give something back to mankind. If we had made love that Christmas Eve, I would have betrayed that. You scared the hell out of me, because I didn’t know how I was going to take care of myself, let alone take care of you. We were too young, but I trusted you, told you what I planned to do.”
She closed her eyes, remembering, like she had countless times, his passionate declaration that he would win the Fastnet for his parents. Her frantic cries that his uncles would never allow him to do something so dangerous, and his cool words, “They’ll never know. Only you know, and you’ll never tell.” Her nod of agreement, even as she plotted how to stop him, how to save him.
She opened her eyes, brave enough, as she’d promised to face this.
He stepped closer. “I believe you told my uncles because you thought you were doing the right thing. You cared about me and wanted to keep me safe.”
His simple words, spoken with conviction, penetrated her battered heart. His face blurred behind her veil of tears.
I believe him.
“Give me your hand, Athena.”
Blood pounding in her head, she reached out and twined their fingers together, allowing him to lead her to a cushioned bench along the wall.
He flung himself down beside her, his face open to her instead of the charming mask he showed the rest of the world.
“Athena, this is our second chance. If you’re willing, let’s see where we go from here.” His eyes clouded to a slate blue. “No pressure, I promise.” Drew shifted closer, and his eyes softened to warm cornflower. “Will you give us another chance?”
She swallowed, trying to rid herself of the urge to break openly into sobs of joy. But if they had any future, there was one more hurdle to cross. She flung up her chin, needing to vanquish the last lie. They had come too far to shy away from the truth now.
“Dad won’t tell me what happened at Clayworth’s. Why he resigned. Why you let him. Will you tell me?”
He narrowed his eyes so she couldn’t read them. “We all agreed not to discuss it. Including your father. I have to honor that.”
Fear and doubt made her weak.
I won’t cry. I won’t cry.
But she failed. Large, hot tears totally blurred Drew’s face mere inches away.
“Christ, Athena, please don’t cry. Tell me what you want me to do. How I can help you understand.”
His raw voice touched a place deep inside her, vulnerable and waiting. It was enough for now. “Kiss me,” she ordered.
He crushed her to him, and she wrapped her arms around him. He kissed her cheeks, her eyelids. He opened her mouth for long, slow kisses and his hands were all over, feeling her through the terrycloth robe. Scorching current ran through her and into him. She pressed her breasts against him, wanting to be closer, to feel every part of him.
They went down together onto the soft bench. He pushed at the robe, freeing her. With her hands trembling, she hadn’t known how hard it would be to jerk off his shirt and push down his swimming trunks.
She hadn’t seen him naked since she was seventeen. He looked more gorgeous than she remembered, and she felt beautiful as his eyes roamed over her.
She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know the words. Something important, more intimate than mere sex was happening to her, and she didn’t know how to tell him.
He scooped her up and carried her toward the owner’s cabin. She laughed to hide her feelings and pressed a kiss on the nape of his neck where his hair grew in a vee.
He shuddered. “I loved when you did that.”
Naked, they fell onto the wall-to-wall bed, rolling over, kissing and rubbing against each other.
He held her down, and eyes wide, she stared at him, heat rising between them.
“I want to kiss every inch of you,” he whispered. He pressed one slow, gentle kiss on her bruised shoulder. Moved lower to rub his lips against the fading bruise on her wrist and place a long, lingering kiss on her thigh.
She tried to stay still, but she couldn’t stop shaking. With his lips brushing the inside of her thigh, she shifted under his mouth. “Drew, kiss me,” she breathed.
He took her head in both his hands and kissed her, open-mouth, slow kisses, and she pressed against him, wanting him on top of her, wanting him inside her.
All at once she heard bells ringing.
“Christ,” he groaned, burying his face in her neck. “It’s the damn alarms.”
“They’re five miles away. We have time.” She kissed his cheekbones, his hair, his eyes, not wanting to waste a precious moment of this feeling.
“Athena, I’m going to explode in a few more minutes,” he groaned. “I want to make this last longer for you.”
From the cockpit came a loud mechanical voice blaring out words she couldn’t quite make out.
“Perfect. It’s my NOAA. The marine weather station. I have it set to come on every hour.” He pressed one more kiss on her swollen wet lips. “I’ve got to find out what’s going on.”
Her entire body, from her tingling toes to her excited hair follicles, throbbed with sexual frustration. Staring at the cherrywood ceiling, she thought about the day in her office when she looked up at the molding and imagined she heard and saw the Fates laughing. This time they must be under the bed having hysterics.
She threw on her clothes and followed Drew into the cockpit.
Legs wide apart, he stood at the wheel.
The sun had set. There were no stars. The sky rolled dark gray, and off in the distance, lightning flashed through black, billowing cumulus clouds.
“This storm came up unexpectedly,” he called to her. “We’re going to motor in.”
The storm turned the surface of the lake silver. The boat quivered as it dove into trough after trough of turbulent lake and out again.
She wasn’t afraid. She saw the hard, almost detached look on Drew’s face. Like he welcomed the challenge of the wind and waves and rain and knew he could survive all of them.
Through the pouring rain, lightning, and booming thunder, he took her right up to the clubhouse. “I have to go back to my berth. It’s the last one. But I want you out of this storm.”
At the gangway, rain pelting them, he caught her in his arms for one last fast kiss. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I know.” She ran down the gangway and into the shelter of the overhanging porch because she knew he wanted her safe. Fear for him, alone, kept her watching him maneuver away, back toward the entrance of the harbor where the bigger boats were berthed.
It felt too new, this sense of another beginning, of discovery, of realizing she’d been waiting for this since she was too young. A steady calm fell over her body and soul. At her core she felt certain she should be here with Drew and from this point on there would never be another mistake, another regret to haunt her. He understood she’d been trying to protect him all those years ago, and she knew in her heart that when her father returned, somehow, they’d work through what happened at Clayworth’s and fix it together. Nothing could separate them now. She wouldn’t let it. Nor would Drew. This was too right.
A clap of thunder made her jump, and she strained her eyes, trying to make sure Drew had safely reached his berth. She glanced at her watch.
“No!” She flew back toward the gate, realizing her sisters must be waiting for her in this drenching downpour.
At first all she saw was umbrellas. Then she could make out the guard holding a huge green umbrella over Diana. He was gazing at her as men often did, like she must be some ethereal creature come to life whom he needed to protect. In reality Diana was the most resilient of them all. The last to complain. The last to give up.
Beside the guard, Venus held a glorious red Tiffany glass–inspired, oversized umbrella. Athena could hear her arguing with the guard, like a Greek Fury.
“I’m here,” Athena shouted, breathless and soaked to the skin.
“Thank you so much.” Diana smiled and moved away.
The guard visibly wilted. “You’re leaving?” he asked, looking at all of them with dazed eyes.
“Yes. My sister is here now. Bye,” Diana waved.
Venus grabbed her arm, pulling her under the enormous Tiffany umbrella, and Athena huddled on the other side.
“It’s about time. We’re soaked.” Venus sighed. “Diana had the guard nearly talked into letting us into the clubhouse to wait in comfort. We were in time to save you, right?”
Athena gave one shaky little laugh. “Yes. Definitely saved by the proverbial bell.”
