Lucien (28 page)

Lee managed to make it up the stairs, down the hall, and into her condo. She closed the door behind her and slumped back against it.

"Oh God," she groaned. "I am going to die."

Lee closed her eyes and let her sexually depraved mind take over. His chest was solid and, she swallowed past the dryness in her throat, male. His arms were warm, muscular, and—gulp—male. His thighs, which had pressed against the backs of her legs, had been long, lean, hard and—she sucked in a deep, shuddering breath—male. Her body quivered against the coolness of the door and she tried, unsuccessfully, to rid herself of the feel of his arousal pressing against her—

"
Oh God
. I am going insane."

Her body tingled and quivered with awareness. Faint traces of his shampoo had followed her up the two flights of stairs and tormented her every step. Images of his hands, with those long, capable fingers, touching her had her breasts straining to burst from her satin bra.

Lee heaved a deep soulful sigh. "The man has a voice of a libertine. A sexy, experienced libertine." She looked up at the ceiling. "He made me…
oh God
. Insane. I am insane."

How in the world was she going to make it through tonight, tomorrow, and the next day without seeing that cute butt of his in those faded jeans?

Lee pushed off from the door and kicked her shoes off. "Jeans which should be outlawed," she muttered into the empty living room. She tossed the mail onto the hallway table and picked up her shoes, then headed for the bedroom.

Lee dropped the shoes by the closet and slipped into the bathroom to start a hot, bubble bath. After today's mind numbing meetings and one incidental run-in with tall and drop dead gorgeous Jake, she needed to unwind before she gave in to her undernourished sexuality and knocked on every door in the complex looking for the scrumptious Jacob Grayden.

Lee peeled off her clothing and padded her way into the bathroom. She sank into the peach scented bubbles and stretched luxuriously. This was what she needed.

Forget this quarter's spreadsheets.

Forget profit margins.

Forget negotiations for the opening of Stafford & Co.'s newest clothing store.

Forget everything, but how good Jake would look without the cotton T-shirt covering his Adonis-like chest.

Lee re-piled her hair on top of her head and laid back against the tub. She gave in to the purely feminine grin which threatened to transform into giddy laughter.

"Oh, yeah. This is gonna be a good year." A bubble of laughter escaped her throat.

The phone rang and, with a smile curving her lips, Lee dried her hands and picked up the cordless she'd installed next to the tub. "Stafford here."

"Lee, darlin', I've been trying to reach you for hours."

"I've been in meetings all day. What's up, Marilyn?"

"I think we should try a flowery print for the—"

"Not for the show. I want everything kept in solids."

"But, Lee," Marilyn whined, "you never do any of the dresses in flowery prints. You don't even let them wear stripes. And flowers are supposed to be big this year. Didn't you see the Oscars? Everybody was wearing daisies in their hair or on their dresses or—"

"Marilyn," Lee snapped.

"Yes?"

"No flowers."

"Not even for the—"

"No flowers," Lee stated with absolute authority. "The designs were created for solid colors."

"Oh, all right. But I still think you ought to use some flowers."

"On which ones?"

"The Spring dress," Marilyn said quickly. "Spring and flowers are synonymous. They go hand and hand together. They are—"

"No. Not on the dress." Lee pursed her lips and mentally reviewed the sketches for the Spring dresses. "For the April dress, use a scarf with… some purple flowers. The March one you can use a… use the gold chain belt we picked up in Dublin."

"The one with the clovers?"

"Yes. Make sure that the earrings match the golden hue in the chain. I don't want it to draw unnecessary attention away from the dress."

Marilyn scribbled furiously in the background. "The gold belt will go prefect with the green dress. What about the May and June dresses?"

"The June dress is to be done in white. No jewelry. Only a matching white scarf and tortoise shell sunglasses. Have the model wear the scarf draped over her hair. Her hair should be set. Make her look like she should be on the California coast in the late fifties driving a big old Buick convertible." Lee tapped her nails on the tub. "Make the sandals Roman and… give her a white sweater. Drape the sweater over her shoulders and have one button done at the neck."

"Ooh," Marilyn crooned. "That'll look good. What about May?"

"What color did you pick for May?"

"A soft blue."

"Hmm." Lee lifted her leg and rested it on the side of the tub. "Lace small daisies in her hair. Go with the May Day theme. No shoes or stockings. Barefoot. And put the bell anklet on her."

"How about a ribbon around her throat or—"

"That'll work. I'll drop by tomorrow at lunch time. Set up the May dress and I'll take a look at it." Lee paused thoughtfully. "Make it subtle and innocent, Marilyn. These are day dresses. Make them innocent enough for a church social, but keep them—"

"I know, I know. Keep them sensual enough to hint at the molten femininity which stirs underneath."

Lee chuckled. "Now, you're catching on."

"I ought to be after ten years of listening to your fashion dribble."

"Ah, sweet Marilyn, it's that very dribble which has made us a fortune."

Marilyn snorted. "That and you're catering to the highest possible denominator. Which reminds me. The invitations have been sent out. Are there any other last minute arrangements?"

"No. You've done a great job."

Marilyn gasped. "Was that a… compliment? For me?"

"Yeah. For you."

"Lawdy, when did the ice queen melt?"

"The moment she clapped eyes on her neighbor." The moment it was out of her mouth, Lee cursed fluently. Of all the people in the world to mention her sudden bout of serious lust to, she had to tell Marilyn. Just great. Just dandy. Now, Lee would never hear the end of it.

"Neighbor? Oh, what's this. Have you been holding out on me? We're supposed to be best friends and you haven't told me about the neighbor? What's his name? How tall is he? I bet he looks like a bad boy. I can't picture you with a guy in a suit. Unless that guy is Stuart, but you don't like Stuart. Did Stuart move into your building? So, what does he look like? Come on, you can't keep me in suspense. I deserve to know what type of—"

"Marilyn."

"What?"

"Shut up."

"Well, isn't that just fine. I spend the last ten years of my life working with you, for you, and trying to set you up with a decent sort of guy and you tell me to shut up. Honey, I ain't gonna shut up."

"I know," Lee mumbled while Marilyn continued to blather.

"You don't know what you're missing. I know you wanted to save yourself for the right man, but Lee, honey, sweetie, lemon drop, apple dumplin'… men are a part of life. You can't have a full life without, at least once, sampling what they have to offer and some of them… oh, lordy, have they got wares to offer. Take the new delivery boy—and I use the term boy loosely—for instance. He's got great pects, a cute butt, and eyes that match my bedroom. By the way, I called and arranged for the deliveries to be dropped off at my place so Chuckie and I can—"

"Marilyn."

"And he makes the cutest noises when he—"

"Marilyn!"

"It's absolutely adorable. What?"

Lee exhaled a sharp breath.

Marilyn chuckled. "You gonna tell me what I want to know or should I tell you what great things I've taught Chuckie to do with his hands?"

"Did you realize that I'm in the tub?"

"Oh yeah, figured that out when you picked up the phone. Heard the water splashing."

"It's growing cold."

"Only because you're stalling," Marilyn said with a great deal of amusement. "Give in, honey. Either you tell me or I drive over tonight and pry it out of you."

And Marilyn would. Marilyn was one of those rare creatures in this world who was not put off by Lee's curt nature. As far as Marilyn was concerned, when Lee said 'No', it meant 'Talk me into it'.

So Lee gave in. "He's tall, six feet something. Chestnut brown hair with streaks of gold and blond. His eyes are a strange mix of blue, gold, and green; which makes them appear gray. His chin, jaw, and smile make me believe that when he sees something he wants, he gets it."

"Teeth?"

"He's got some."

"Just some?"

Lee smiled. "Okay, he's got a full set and they are pearly white. His smile is a mix between angelic choir boy and Beelzebub. His—"

"Who?"

"The Devil."

"Oh. Go on."

"Thank you. His shoulders are wide and broad. Ever hear the saying that the clothes make the man?"

"Yeah."

"Well, this man makes the clothes." Lee slid her leg back into the water.

"Hmm. What was he wearing?"

"A plain white T-shirt which, I might add, made him look darker than sin. And faded Levi's which are—without a doubt—softer than a baby's bottom."

Marilyn groaned. "Go on. He's perfect, isn't he?"

"Marilyn, honey, darlin', apple dumplin'… he's more than perfect. He is perfection." Lee paused, then added quietly, "I, um, he made me…
you know
."

"What? He made you—"

"With his voice."

"
Ohmigod
. You don't mean that he…? With his…? Lee, he made you— Did he touch you?"

"No, not really." Lee sat up and pulled the phone away from the open window. She related the events at the mailbox, then whispered, "His voice did it. I was so close to…
you know
, that I nearly didn't make it to the stairwell. As soon as I did, I had to hold onto the banister. It was big, Marilyn. Very big."

"Ohmigod," Marilyn breathed. "You had an orgasm because of his voice? Ohmigod."

"Shh, not so loud. I don't want—"

"Don't worry, I'm alone. So what are you going to do about it? Go out with him? He's the one, isn't he? I mean, it's about time. You've been a virgin for far too long. You need to go out and have a wild and—"

Lee chewed on her bottom lip. "I don't know, Marilyn. I don't exactly have time for a wild fling or—"