Invitation to Love (15 page)

It
was the breathless call of his name that changed the moment. At once she felt
his entire body grow lifeless; His mouth ceased its voracious journey of her
neck. A jarring wave of reality hit her the moment she opened her eyes to the
sharp ones above. Her hands dropped from his shoulders. Michael pushed himself
up to his full height and straightened at his rumpled clothes. Their eyes
gripped for what seemed like ages, each striving to control their labored
breaths. She managed to pull herself up to a sitting position at the edge of
the bed, waiting for him to explain.

“Don’t
worry, Taryn,” his features now more heated. “I won’t force you. Like I said,
come to me when you want me—not when you need a substitute for another man.
Speaking of which, it would be in all of our best interests if you stayed away from
David.” In long forceful strides, he grabbed his coat and stormed from the
room.

She
jumped up and stared at the closed door. Her hand shoved back strands of loose hair
over her face. (David?) Does he really believe she has romantic feelings for David?
It wasn’t David her body ached for just now; It isn’t David that comes to her
in her dreams. She wrapped her arms around the post of her bed and touched her
forehead against its hard surface. His accusations about her unfaithfulness to
their marriage vows hurt true enough. But even more painful, is how easily he
shut off his desire for her. What is he trying to prove? That he doesn’t need
to reach out to her? That his patience has grown another layer, and he’s given
up?

CHAPTER
SIX

The next
morning, a still wounded Taryn stood in front of her dresser mirror analyzing
herself in the short, black biking shorts she pulled from the back of the
drawer. She turned left then right, trying to ascertain whether this was a good
idea. It never occurred to her there would be any use for the Lycra material
stretching around her thighs, and accentuating her backside. At first, they
were exercise apparel, now they’re a piece of prized arsenal. She smoothed at her
canary-yellow top and smiled.

Today
it begins: Sweet vengeance. Michael’s rejection of her had her fighting with
the pillow all night—the sheets won. Last night may have been nothing but a
mind game to him, but she was ready to give her all, her heart included. And he
just walks away? Well, it’s on now. Next time, she’ll be the one to walk away—that
is, unless he’s made entirely of concrete. And just how thick is it? He acts as
if he’s unfazed by her as a woman with that take-it-or-leave-it smugness, and she
means to test its strength. (Childish?) Maybe. But, her feminine ego is bruised
and needs healing. A silent moment for courage, then she paraded out of the
room.

She
had just finished pouring milk into Remi and Rachel’s cereal bowl when he
strolled in. She turned from putting the carton away just in time to catch him
staring at her smooth legs for a shocking second before greeting the girls.

“Would
you like breakfast?” her honey-laced words floated to him.

“Yes,
please,” he said, his eyes grazing once more across her figure.

She
took the eggs out of the refrigerator, and went to the stove. As she stood breaking
a couple into the skillet, a triumphant smile began widening across her face.

“Aren’t
you going into work today, Michael?” Remi asked, twirling her spoon in her bowl
of Fruity Loops. “You’re not wearing a suit.”

“No,”
he tugged her ponytail. “I’ll be in the library working today.”

“Can
I come and watch?”

“Well,
Chris and I will be pretty busy, Remi. Tell you what,” he added quickly when
disappointment registered in her eyes. “When I finish, how about we go and get
some hamburgers for lunch?’

“Yaay.”

“Mummie,
can we go outside and play, now?” Rachel asked having slurped the rest of her
milk from her bowl.

“Yes,
but stay away from the pool.”

“Momma,
don’t forget to ask Michael,” Remi added as she slid from her chair.

Taryn
looked over and squinted at her. The plan was to wait patiently and give him
time before making major changes to his home. But of course, keeping quiet is
not one of that girl’s strong points. Remi’s eyes widened as she ran to catch up
with Rachel, slamming the patio door behind her. Taryn slid the hot eggs onto a
plate, added toast, then took it and the carafe over to him.

“What
are you supposed to ask me?” he took the napkin she offered.

“The
girls want to know if they can have a swing-set. I said I’d ask you first.”

“You
don’t have to ask me,” he picked up the decanter and poured the black liquid in
his cup. “If they want a swing-set, then get them one.”

She
could tell he was still in a mood by that stiff reply, but that wasn’t going to
deter her. “Oh, this is not your ordinary swing-set,” she swiveled around and
with slow, alluring steps, moved to her side of the table with unquestionable
confidence that he was watching every inch of her until she sat down. “This one
does everything but fly for you. It has six poles that have to be concreted
into the ground. That backyard is beautiful. If you don’t want all those holes
in your property, I understand. They’ve got plenty of toys to occupy their
time; They don’t need a set that enormous.”

He
exhaled sharply and looked away to his breakfast. “Like I said, if they want
the swing-set, get it. Holes in the yard are natural. There’s more than enough
money in the household account to cover the cost.” He stirred a teaspoon of
sugar into his coffee. After a few sips, he placed his cup down and eyed her.
“I get it.”

“Get
what?”

“It’s
not holes in the yard that’s such a big deal; It’s having to use that part of
the account. In fact, I bet you’ve barely touched a dime of it. Am I right?”

She
looked away and began stirring at her coffee. “Maybe—maybe not.”

His
laughter was more of a scoff. “You’re so afraid that the more of my money you
spend, the more you’ll feel obligated to share my bed. I bet I’m right about
that, also.”

She
opened her mouth to refute that, but just sat back in her chair and remained silent.
(Did he forget last night?)

“You
have my permission to order it, Taryn, and put as many holes in the yard as you
please; Or shall I do that? You know—so you won’t be so beholden to me?”

There
was a hint of a harsh chuckle as he focused on his breakfast and the newspaper.
After finishing her second cup of coffee, and having grown tired of the
authoritative hush from across the table, she went to stand at the patio doors
to see about the girls. The sound of his chair scooting back made her glance
around.

“I’ll
be in the library,” he tossed his napkin on the table. “When Chris arrives, I’d
appreciate it if you show him in. And, don’t bother about lunch. I promised the
girls we would go out.” Without waiting for a response, he proceeded across the
hall.

“Yes,
sir,” she whispered as she saluted toward the now closed doors. “Anything you
say, sir.” After a deep breath, she went about clearing the breakfast mess.

She
had just finished arranging the dishes in the dishwasher when the doorbell
chimed into the kitchen. Chris let out a low whistle when she opened to door to
him, causing her to feel shameful at her too short attire.

“Well,
well, well,” he stepped inside and kissed her on the cheek. “Now, I know why he
wanted to stay home today.”

“Stop
it,” she closed the door and led him toward the library. “Michael’s in his
study. Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

“Yeah,
I could use a cup.”

Chris
went into the library, while she continued into the kitchen. She took out a
serving tray, two empty cups and saucers, the rest of the hot coffee, and
arranged everything on top. When she entered, Michael was seated behind his
desk examining some papers, while Chris reclined in a chair opposite him
explaining the paragraphs. She sat the tray down on a clear spot. Michael thanked
her, and Chris shot her a wicked lift of an eyebrow as she left out.

After
peeking out at the girls once more, she finished cleaning the kitchen then went
upstairs to pick up the mess they’d left lying around in their rooms. When she
came out of Rachel’s room, her eyes were drawn to the end of the hall to the
master bedroom which always garnered a deep breath to settle her mental angst.
Though she’s always been too intimidated to go and have a look inside, this
time she dared to tread into His-Highness’ lair.

Her
stomach stirred, and her forehead grew moist, as she entered to cool colors of
beige and dark-blue. At once, her glance went to the king-sized mahogany bed
across the room. She walked over to inspect, her fingers tracing the intricate
details of one of the huge posters reaching for the ceiling. She studied the
spacious bed, visualizing him lying there at night sound asleep. Does he wear
silk pajamas? Does he sleep in the nude? (Will she ever take that step and find
out?) She smoothed her hand along the plaid comforter then scanned the room for
anything that needed tidying. The maroon sweater dangling from a chair in the corner
caught her eye. She held the garment close to her chest, allowing the scent of
him to embrace her before heading for the closet to put it away. The huge space,
coupled with the color-coded suits, shirts, and ties, had her circling in
wonder. She has to search through endless hangers just to find one dress. After
hanging the sweater in a spot where it seemed to belong, she continued to look
around until she noticed a sketch pad sticking out of place where a row of his
shoes were. 

She
went over and picked it up. It was her intent to mind her manners by not being
too noisy, but her curiosity reigned, causing her to peek inside. Drawings of
the countryside and sketches of buildings were an impressive tribute to his
artistic talent as she flipped through each page. But, one drawing in charcoal
pencil had her curiosity gearing up even more. Her heart did triple beats at
the woman with long, black hair and thick bangs over dark eyes smiling back at
her. She didn’t have to guess—it’s Karen. No doubt, it’s Michael she was
smiling at as he captured an intimacy so deep in her eyes, one shoulder peeking
from beneath a shawl. (How attractive.) So, this is the woman who has his
heart; The one he really wants to share his bed with.

She
slid the pad back in its secret corner, concluding it best not to dwell on his
feelings, or why he still has her picture. Last night, he accused her of using
him as a substitute for David. If she ever decided to be his wife completely,
wouldn’t he be guilty of the same thing?

Twenty
minutes later, she was busy folding her last pile of clothes in the laundry
room when she heard the patio doors open and the scurry of footsteps across the
kitchen floor.

“Mummie,
are you in here?”

“Yes,
Rachel,” Taryn put the clothing aside to see about her. She stood in the
doorway, at once noticing the muffled clothes, untied shoe strings, and
wild-about hair.

“Has
Michael come out of there yet? He’s been in there all day. I’m hungry.”

She
laughed at such a desperate twist of her face. “He’ll be out soon, honey. Can
you hold on a little while longer?”

“Can’t
you go in and get him?”

“Tell
you what, if he’s not out in five more minutes, I’ll go in and drag him out if
I have to. O.k.?”

“O.k.”

Just
then, Remi came barreling through the patio doors. “Mommie, is Michael out,
yet?”

She
was about to repeat herself when the library doors opened, and he and Chris
sauntered out.

“Michael,”
Remi rushed to him, followed by Rachel. “Are you ready to eat, yet? We’re
hungry.”

He
cast an amused glance over their faces. “I made sure Chris and I finished on
time. Certainly wouldn’t want to keep our dates waiting, would we, Chris?”

“Just
let me clean them up a bit, and they’ll be ready,” Taryn said.

“No
need to,” Michael waved her off. “They look fine. There’s a small carnival on
the boardwalk. We’ll eat lunch there, and a get on a few of the rides.”

A
wild hail of yippees exploded through the room.

“Aren’t
you coming too, Taryn?” Chris asked.

“No,”
she answered, still stinging from the picture upstairs. “I’ think I’ll stay
here and catch up on my day. Have fun, everyone.”

“Are
you sure?”

She
was touched by Michael’s concern, certainly a big change from his earlier mood.
“I’m sure.”

“Come
on, Uncle Chris,” Remi grabbed his hand and began pulling.

“We’ll
be back in a couple of hours,” Michael managed to say as Rachel guided him out.

A
quiet hour passed as she put some freshly dried clothes away, and vacuumed the
upstairs. As she sat at the kitchen table eating a small salad for lunch, she
tried finishing the letter to Nora, who had seen her on all four of the
Hollywood news shows and wanted to know every minute detail in print so she could
show her friends. She was laughing at Nora’s brazen question as to why she
didn’t throw herself onto Mario and kiss his dimpled cheek for her, when the
doorbell hailed a visitor. She was taken by surprise at David standing on the
other side of the door.