Night Magic (17 page)

“
Let me get you in the house,” the guy said, and pulled out a key ring.

“
We’re fine,” Kemble said, dismissing “Rory” with the tone in his voice. He grabbed the brown paper package.

The guard nodded deferentially.
“You have the intercom code if you need me, Mrs. Tremaine. I’ll finish my rounds.”

Why would Jane need
“Rory”? Kemble glowered at the retreating figure, put his package under his arm, and pulled out his keys. Ernie and Matt waited for them to get inside. He waved them off as he shut the door. The place sure was cavernous. Jane’s footsteps echoed in the foyer as he fumbled for the light.

“
I hope you don’t mind. I ordered supplies sent over today, and a few things for the kitchen.” She looked anxiously over her shoulder. “A mixer and some small appliances, some pots and pans. I don’t think anyone ever cooked here.”

He followed her into the pristine kitchen.
“Why would I mind, Jane? This house is yours.”

“
I . . . I did some damage to the credit card you gave me.” Her voice was almost a whisper.

“
Doesn’t matter. It’s our credit card, anyway. How did everything get put away?” What he wanted to know was how Jane knew “Rory’s” name.

“
Matt brought me over this afternoon while you were busy in your office,” she said, taking off her coat. “Rory helped me find a ladder.”

Kemble hadn’t even known s
he was gone. That seemed, well . . . wrong. He glanced around. The cupboards went all the way to the high ceiling. “You, uh, don’t have to use the high shelves.” The kitchen really wasn’t designed for a woman like Jane. He’d have to get her a nice light stepstool, so she wouldn’t have to call “Rory” to find her a ladder.

“
Oh, I put some of mother’s things up there. Old crock pots and such. It was thoughtful of you to have them all boxed and brought over.” She paused. “You don’t think she’ll be coming back there, do you?”

Uh-oh. Maybe that had been a tad insensitive.
“I just thought you’d want to feel, uh, settled.” He rushed on. “Her house will still be there when she wants to come back.”

She nodded, looking pensive.
“Ice cream?”

“
Thanks,” he said. “But I’m fine.” He had other things on the agenda. Uh-oh. Wait. “Maybe a little wine, come to think of it. Would, uh, would you join me?”

“
Yes.” Her expression was a little tentative, but Jane really did have the loveliest smile.

The wine fridge at the bar and the wine racks above were now filled with white and red respectively.
“Looks like you did us proud.” He cleared his throat. “Red or white?”

“
White.” The silence stretched as he opened the wine. Just when it had started to get uncomfortable, she rushed into speech. “You know there’s a whole wine cellar, don’t you?”

“
Really?” Actually he didn’t. “Where?”

“
That door over there leads to some stairs. There’s a big rustic dining table down there and what I think might be a walk-in cigar humidor and a room for aging cheese. . . .” She trailed off.

He grinned.
“I knew this house had everything.”

“
Don’t feel you need to take up smoking cigars just to put the humidor to use.” She managed a tiny smile.

He poured her a glass of wine. She liked Rombauer.
“No worries there. And since we’ll still be eating most of our meals over at the Breakers, we may not put the cellar to much use.”

“
It’s not like we’ll be entertaining guests down there.”

That made him pause in pouring one for himself.
“I know the life you inherited by marrying me will feel constricting, Jane. If you. . . .”

“
I chose the Tremaines long before I accepted you,” she interrupted. So unlike Jane. “Remember John Cleese saying in that movie how he dreaded having to invite ‘piles of corpses’ over for dinner? Dinners with your family are just fine.”

She meant that. And she had chosen
Tremaines. Was that comforting or dismaying?

They were left there, staring at each other, both knowing that they were just putting off the inevitable. All Kemble’s insecurities assaulted him. He wanted to do his duty by her. And it wouldn’t be a trial, either. Just thinking about her in that little
négligée with all that creamy skin showing was making him suddenly throb in places that hadn’t been throbbing much lately, except for last night before the horrible faux pas with the hip-hop music and the glass. His insecurities assaulted him. If she didn’t want what he had to offer. . . .

Hell, what kind of a man was he? Direct. That was who he was. He swallowed.
“Jane. I want to make love to you tonight. Right now in fact. But if you’d rather not, I . . . I mean we could put it off. Maybe you’d rather . . . or if not at all, I guess. . . .”

“
I want that too,” she interrupted. She blushed from the v-neck of her cream-colored silk blouse to her hairline. But she looked determined. Jane always did have courage. Maybe more than he did.

He gave a half
smile. “Well, then. . . .” He grabbed her hand. God, but what that little hand in his did to other parts of his body. If even holding her hand could make him stand to attention, he really had abstained for too long. He headed for the stairs, grabbing his paper-wrapped package at the bar on the way. This was not how Drew had coached him to ease into it. But his approach apparently did the job. He headed for the stairs.

*****

Jane followed Kemble up the stairs. The feel of her hand enveloped in his was wonderful and frightening. Her body was already anticipating running her hands over his muscled shoulders, down his biceps, over his corded forearms. She could practically feel the hair there, and what little was on his chest. It would be smooth and straight and. . . .

Should she confess she was a virgin? Definitely not. Kemble would go all protective on her, and he might lose his nerve entirely. After all, who wanted to be with a virgin these days, except men in sub-Saharan Africa who were afraid of getting AIDS? Men wanted women who knew how to please them. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know what went on in the bedroom. She might not be very good at it, but she knew. She’d try her best. He probably didn’t expect very much from her anyway. No one did, really. For once she was thankful for that.

When they reached the bedroom, she watched for his surprise. She’d jury-rigged some sheets over the floor-to-ceiling windows with duct tape and Rory’s ladder to give the room more privacy and let him sleep in a little if he wanted. All that light left no shadows in the room. Unrelenting light had always made her feel uncomfortable. She was going to have to create some shadowy retreats in this house, unless she wanted to spend her days in the wine cellar, as she had for several peaceful hours today.

He stopped stock-still and dropped her hand.
“What’s this?”

Did he sound disapproving?
“Just . . . just temporary, until I can order some blinds or draperies or something.” Whatever style would go in this cold, modern house?

“
You didn’t have to do that.” Now he was really frowning.

Oh, dear.
“I guess I, uh, wanted you to be able to sleep in.”

“
You should be able to sleep in too. I should have thought of that.”

That emboldened her. He wasn’t blaming her for the makeshift draperies. He was blaming himself, as usual.
“You don’t have to do everything by yourself anymore. Isn’t that what wives are for? Helpmeet, partner . . . that sort of thing?”

She was rewarded by seeing his expression soften. He shrugged, as though what he was about to say didn’t matter to him. She knew better.
“I just wanted things to be perfect for you. I guess they weren’t.”

She couldn’t help the smile.
“Nothing’s ever perfect. But the important things about yesterday were. I married you. That was a good thing.” Had she revealed too much about how she felt? “Warning. I haven’t gotten around to figuring out the sound system, so unless you’re really into hip-hop or rap, I wouldn’t turn it on just yet.”

That provoked a very small and very rueful grin of acknowledgment that she was trying to lighten the mood. Then it disappeared.
“I’m so sorry about last night.” There he was blaming himself again. Then his shoulders squared. “I can take care of the sound system.”

“
I concede that you might be better at that than I am.”

“
Seeing as you can’t remember how the remote works for the TV in the den at the Breakers, you might be right.” He set his glass down, and that brown paper package he’d been carrying around on the night table next to the side of the bed he’d used last night. He began taking off his sport coat.

“
I know how all the remotes work at my house.” She couldn’t bring herself to move from the doorway.

He looked out under his black brows at her.
“The fact that you have about twelve remotes for your setup tells its own story. I should have programmed you a universal.” He’d started to frown again.

“
Not your job,” she said, trying to lighten the burden he always seemed to place on himself.

He looked up at her.
“It is now.” That was heat in his eyes. It made her suck in her breath.

“
So, you can program our remotes—however many there are in this house.” She sounded kind of breathy, she was sure. It was going to happen this time. But what she wanted more than anything scared her to death.

*****

Jane looked like a doe about to turn and run for the trees. “Count on it,” Kemble breathed, as though she were a real wild animal who might bolt if he spoke above a whisper. What must she be thinking? Was she afraid of losing her virginity? Was she afraid of him? He moved slowly toward her. Her eyes got wider. Son of a bitch. She wasn’t sure of him.

“
Look,” he said. “We don’t have to do anything right now. Why don’t you get your nightgown on, and then we can sip our wine? Maybe you could let me hold you for a while. That’s all. Just hold you.”

She nodded convulsively and bolted for the closet, sloshing wine from her glass onto the marble floor. God, don’t slip and fall, he thought. Or drop the glass.
Should he have gotten plastic glasses? She made it to the mirrored wall and slipped into the closet. That might be it. She might never come out.

No. Jane had more courage than to hide in a closet. He strode over to his own closet, stripped off his clothes in record time and left them strewn on the floor. Unlike him, but he didn’t care. He went with the robe again. Maximum coverage of naked man, but easy access if she cared to indulge herself. At least his erection had calmed down some. Then he dashed to the big bed and jerked back the puffy white quilts on her side, hastily smoothed them, then raced around to his side and slid in. Using the control panel on the nightstand, he turned down the lights to a more romantic level, reached for his wine
, and struck a casual pose he hoped would be reassuring when Jane came out.

What would she choose to wear? Another of her soft white cotton nightgowns, no doubt. He’d found the one last night actually pretty sexy. The way her breasts bobbled under the fabric made him imagine how they’d feel in his hands. The high collar accentuated the delicate white of her throat
. . . .

Oh, no. Erection was back, in spades. Not reassuring to a virgin by any means. He tried to project Redmond Industries future profits after implementing the improvements they planned to put into the factories. Not working. Okay. Cost of retooling and the ROI on it.

Nope.

His reflection in the wall of mirrors showed a stiff and uncomfortable man sitting in the great bed clutching his wineglass as though his life depended on it. Not looking like a happy bridegroom. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease them. He was just tense because he wanted to do the right thing by Jane tonight, and his erection was not only getting downright painful, but he knew it would scare the hell out of Jane. He glanced down and realized his cock was actually trying to tent the quilt on his lap. He hastily shoved his hand in to try to adjust himself to a position at once more comfortable and more concealing. As if that existed.

Jane walked out of the closet in Drew’s red négligée.

Kemble nearly spilled his wine all over himself. He jerked his hand out from under the quilt. What must she think? Probably the worst, because she was blushing. Why wouldn’t she, if she thought he was, well, tryi
ng to get himself ready for her? Like it was a chore. She looked good enough to eat. And sweet, the way she blushed. She had courage all right, because she stood there even when she was embarrassed and afraid. She hugged her body to cover her breasts. She must not realize that just pushed them up into creamy mounds that were even more delectable.

“
You’re beautiful,” he blurted. But that wasn’t a bad thing, because the truth of his feelings hovered in the air. Jane’s look turned tentative, but maybe a little hopeful. “Do you think you might want to come over here?” He patted the other side of the great bed. She nodded. After a long pause she made her feet move and crossed the cavernous room to the bed. As she climbed up he scooted the stack of taupe and gray and white pillows on her side closer to him. The fringe of her lashes rose as she realized he meant for her to sit actually next to him. He tried to make his smile reassuring. He wasn’t sure he was successful. He was probably as scared as she was. But she’d dressed in the négligée. It was his turn to move the ball forward. She bit her lip as he took her wineglass from her, but clambered over the huge bed and sat beside him, pulling up the quilt around her waist. It wasn’t meant to be a sexy move at all.