Driving in Neutral (29 page)

“No.” Olivia shook her head. “What?”

“I want you to be happy. I want you to be with a man who’ll love you as much as I do, only with all the sex and home life and commitment that goes with it. I want you to have what I’m going to have, what Craig and I have.”

Olivia cleared her throat and wiped the wetness from her eyes with her fingers. “You are so sentimental.”

“Maybe. And maybe I just know how it’s going to be so fuckin’ fabulous.”

“All right,” Olivia chuckled. “It’ll all be fabulous. Shall we run the last-minute checklist that leads us to the fabulousness?”

“Yes. Good idea.”

“You’ve got something old?”

“My mother’s pearls.”

“Something new?”

“Does sexy underwear count?”

Sniffling, Olivia sat on the bed and immediately wrinkled her nose as she put her hand into the panty hose Suzanne left in a diaphanous heap on Ella’s bed. “Underwear? Underwear is definitely sexy.”

Ella made a face as well. “Can you believe Sooze is going commando? We sure got an eyeful of her landing strip when she lifted her skirt. I hope she doesn’t get so drunk she falls over. Where were we?”

“Something borrowed.”

“Isn’t there supposed to be a penny in my shoe?”

“That comes after the something borrowed. Have you got something borrowed?”

“Can I count Mommy’s pearls again?”

“Sounds good to me. What’s your something blue?”

“My something blue?” Panic surged into Ella’s eyes. “Oh no. Oh
no
! Ah don’t have anything blue.” She leapt to her feet, her newly-released veil almost catching again on her dress. “Ah’m wearing white. Everything’s white, where am Ah supposed to have something blue?”

Olivia put a calming hand on Ella’s shoulder, stopping her before she could swoon and call for smelling salts. “It’s just the walk, huh?” she laughed. “Take it easy. Remember, you chose this tiara because it has those tiny pale blue stones.”

After one long inhale Ella took a seat. “I’m just gonna sit here quietly, and breathe.”

There was a knock at the door. Mr. and Mrs. Thomas popped their heads through the doorframe, photographer Nathan a half step behind.

“Button, Mommy and I wanted to—well look at you. Look Alva, our baby girl is a real princess!” He paused in the doorway, his eyes welling up. “You’re just as pretty as Mommy was the day I married her.”

Luminous, Ella went to her father, dabbing at the tears in his eyes. “Doesn’t Olivia look pretty too, Daddy?”

“Yes, she does,” Mr. Thomas sniffled. His wife handed him a hankie.

“Don’t you think Olivia looks pretty, Mommy?”

“Yes, she does. Olivia, you look especially lovely.”

“That’s because she’s got a
boy-friend
,” Ella sing-songed the words and began to giggle.

“Yes she does.” Olivia broke into a wide grin and giggled too.

“I swear you two never change.” Mrs. Thomas shook her head with a soft thoughtful smile. “Always giggling about something.”

“She’s seeing Emerson, Mommy and I think it’s true love.”

“Oh, now
that
man is perfect for you, Olivia.”

Ella giggled again. “You always thought he’d be perfect for
me
, Daddy.”

“Well, I changed my mind when I met Craig.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Thomas?” Nathan cleared his throat. “How about we set up on the balcony overlooking the garden for a few shots of the bride and her parents?”

Mr. Thomas buttoned his jacket and nodded. “Yes, yes, good idea. Button, Alva.”

Olivia stepped aside and watched Nathan set up for family photos. “I’ll meet you downstairs in a few minutes,” she said, bowing out, respecting the private time she knew Ella wanted with her parents. She took the back staircase to the kitchen out of habit, moving past a silvery blonde woman, who managed to look elegant in a teal linen dress as she crouched and inspected the kick plate at the front of the stainless steel refrigerator.

Emerson was inside the breakfast nook, bent forward tying his shoe, one foot resting on the edge of a chair, his charcoal tuxedo pants tight across the ass twenty flights of stairs kept so firm.

The butterflies inside her body were set loose once again, and they rapidly flittered into her belly, skimming lower and lower until all she felt was a very warm ache. Olivia crept up behind him silently, slid a hand over one stone-hard buttock and slipped between the back of his thighs to cup him gently. She saw his hands freeze mid shoestring loop. “It
is
a nice tux,” she said. “It feels like Armani.”

“Actually,” Carlton Maxwell lifted his head and looked over his shoulder, “it’s a classic Pierre Cardin. So, have you met my wife, Lucy Maxwell?”

The elegant silvery blonde at the edge of the breakfast nook tried to contain her amusement, her mouth twitching before breaking into a full smile. “Hello Olivia. I understand you met my son in an elevator.”

Emerson captured her the moment he saw her hurrying down the hall. He looped an arm around her waist, backed her against the wall and wondered if he looked as completely Neanderthal as he felt. The funny little smile she gave him pushed his brain and body deeper into prehistoric impulse and basic human need. “I was coming to find you. I couldn’t wait. I’m terrible at waiting,” he said, smoothing fingers over her sleek hair, smiling down into her warm, inviting eyes.

“Okay,” she said, “before you hear it from him or your lovely mother, who I just met, I think you should know I just felt up your father.”

Emerson knew words had come out of her mouth, but he was focused on her Cupid’s-bow top lip and the tongue that licked over it. “Hmm?”

“You told me you looked like you mother and have her personality, and you do, but let’s just say your father also engendered you with something, and you bear more than a fleeting similitude to his—”

He was a little confused and slightly embarrassed his mind had been so completely occupied by primitive thoughts. “Olivia, I’m not following you. Repeat what you said. Use small words. My brain isn’t exactly liaising with the rest of me because all I can seem to focus on here is how you look naked, with me inside you.”

“Oh, God,” Olivia stifled her gasp, but there was nothing she could do about, as Justine might have put it, the butter in her bikinis. “Emerson, listen, your dad was in the breakfast nook, tying his shoe…”

“Uh-huh?” He trailed a finger around her ear. “He went in the kitchen to check out the fridge. My mother wants one like it.”

“I thought he was
you
. I mean from the back, from his position, the way he was bent over, he looked like you and Emerson, I fondled your father.”

“What do you mean?” Emerson frowned, not quite understanding.

“Your suits are the same color,” she touched his jacket, “and I couldn’t tell it wasn’t a tuxedo. I walked right up behind him, reached in and proceeded to give him a pretty good grope.”

His laughter was immediate and explosive.

Olivia laughed too, dipping her forehead against his chest. “By the way, thanks for telling your mom about the elevator. Did you tell her about Ella coming into the room this morning too?”

“No. That reminds me. Can I see your breasts again?”

“Not out here in the hallway.”

“Just show me one.”

“Later.”

“No, now.”

His insistent desire compelled him to pull her farther down the hall, past the living room and study, until they stopped under the main staircase, just in front of the telephone alcove. With one movement, he pushed her
into
the alcove, pulled her as close as he could. In a second, his tongue skimmed over her lips, into her mouth, and he began to learn more of the new language of Olivia.

Impassioned, kissing him deeply, whimpering beneath his hands, she groped up to his throat to undo the bow tie that had taken him ten minutes to secure properly. Her quick fingers unbuttoned his collar, touch-typing her urgent desire through the fabric of his shirt to his skin as she moved to kiss his neck. “Shut the door, shut the door,” she murmured, shifting back to his mouth.

Emerson gathered the skirt of her dress, bunching it up in one hand, sliding fingers up the back of her leg. He could taste her lipstick and the florally sweet flavor aroused him even more. He wanted to dip his fingers into her satiny panties, slip down the front of her dress to nuzzle her homegrown breasts, and make love to her standing up in an indoor phone booth.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Olivia growled softly at his lips.

“No. I’m dead serious here.”

She pushed back from him with a small laugh, gazing over his shoulder. “Damn your little phobia. You should have closed the door.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Craig agreed. He, and an amused looking Pete, stood behind them. Craig had his hands in his pockets and a big fat grin on his fair face. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Emerson dropped Olivia’s dress and looked over his shoulder. “Well you found me. What do you want?”

“I’m getting married, and you’re the best man, remember?”

“Uh, yeah. Be right with you.”

“Wipe off that lipstick and meet us on the terrace…and Olivia, remember the bride’s the only one allowed to glow.” Craig and Pete walked away, their guffaws fading as they moved down the hall.

Emerson started buttoning his shirt. He paused to look at her, worried. “I’m sorry…I didn’t think, I didn’t take the time to—”

She put a finger to his lips. “I’m used to it now.” She grinned.

He grinned back, his fingers fumbling. “You know how to tie a bow tie?”

As she reached up to fold the two sections of his tie together he leaned close and murmured, “Olivia. What we did, I mean outside of what we did this morning, outside the heat of passion, beyond these last few minutes…I want you to know, if you haven’t worked it out already. It has happened fast, but I believe in fate or destiny or whatever you want to call it. I believe things happen for a reason, and there’s been some reason why I haven’t had a real interest in any woman since my ex-wife and why you had two lousy marriages. That’s what was supposed to happen. It was all leading to this, to us. It makes sense. I hurt my knee playing with my nephew so I would have to take the elevator instead of the stairs because I was supposed to meet you.”

“You would have met me upstairs.”

“Yes, and if I had I would have wound up being the same bastard to you that I am to Timmons and everyone else who works for me. It had to be the elevator. It was supposed to happen. I’m supposed to love you. And I do. I love you.”

He walked backward, feeling the hugely dopey grin on his face, and she watched him until he turned the corner.

The moment after he disappeared, Olivia drifted upstairs to refresh the lip color that he’d so thoroughly kissed off. At the mirror, near the open French doors to the balcony, she reapplied a light red shade, sweeping a smooth line over her bottom lip, pressing her lips together to coat them evenly.

Music from the string trio drifted up from the rose garden and it matched her romantic, intoxicated mood. She was drunk on Emerson, filled with him so completely she imagined she heard his laugh from the terrace below.

She loved the sound of his laugh. She loved the sound of his voice, the low timbre it had when he’d said
I love you
, the way it dropped lower when he was sleepy. She even loved the way it thrummed through her body when he was on his cell phone yelling at Josh or Timmons. Most of all, she loved the way this return to vulnerability made her feel so surprisingly alive.

Giddy, she stepped onto the balcony, where they’d both been the night they heard Tex and Mimi making love. Desire was a funny thing, but coupled by this feeling, this fresh, pristine love was a thing of beauty. She never considered it was something she wanted to have again in her life. So many years after Adam, she’d felt lucky to have experienced something with Karl, however short-lived and untrue it was, but this, this was astonishingly intense, and she wanted it. It didn’t matter if she hadn’t been divorced a year, she wanted this more than she ever anticipated she could.

Again, she imagined his laughter, but she realized she hadn’t imagined anything. Emerson was below the balcony with Craig and their laughter sparked her curiosity. She leaned forward to listen.

“…and there you go and do it on your own,” Craig said. “This is the first opportunity I’ve had to say something when nobody else is around and I can’t believe it worked. It actually
worked
.”

“Are we going to talk about it again? Didn’t you say enough at breakfast?”

“It’s just so impressive. Take a bow.”

Olivia heard Emerson chuckle. “You know, I generally do this sort of thing pretty well on my own.”

“So you needed a little help this time. Do you think she has any idea this was a set up?”

“No. I think she’s too focused on the wedding to see through the scheme.”

“Your dad thought it was great. I’m surprised he didn’t crack up when you introduced her. I really can’t believe it actually worked.”

Emerson’s laugh burbled again. “Yeah. Thanks for all your help. The room switch was brilliant, but the suitcase mix up, that was a stroke of real genius.”

Set up?

The room switch was brilliant?

The suitcase mix up was a stroke of genius?

The words screeched in her ears. For an instant, sensation left her entirely and Olivia sputtered, spinning, stumbling back inside her room, skidding through a sheer curtain of acrid, oily blue smoke before exiting into reality on the other side.

Oh, you fucking stupid woman. He set you up. He wanted to see you weak and you fell for it. You trusted him. He used you, just like Adam used you. And now he’s laughing. Another man is laughing at you, just like Karl
.

Just like Karl
.

Just
.

Like
.

Karl
.

Adrenaline kicked in before shock and emotions had the chance to surface. Her well-trained reflexes acted automatically to this unexpected situation. Anguish and fury would come later, but now, with mechanical efficiency, her system refocused entirely on the task at hand.