Ribbon of Steele: A Romance of Suspense (7 page)

He looked deep into her eyes as he twisted his mouth into a small smile. He ran his fingers through her hair and touched her face with his palm. She stared at his chest as the flicker of the fire illuminated his strong broad shoulders. She closed her eyes and smiled. The experience was unlike anything she had ever felt in her life, and she wanted it to last forever. He pulled her close as she let out one more long satisfying breath.

"I think I'm ready to try that dessert now," she whispered with a smile.

16

"Details! Details!", Nicole was shouting when Lizzie walked through the door the next morning. Nicole was sitting in her chair in full running gear, and hopped to her knees on her chair as Lizzie walked into the room.

Lizzie smiled, threw her shall on top of the heap of unfolded laundry, and flopped on the couch." Come on Lizzie, I'm dying over here. Was he amazing in bed? I bet he was amazing."

"It was amazing. His house is beautiful inside, Nic," explained Lizzie. "It has this ceiling in the foyer..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah enough about the damn ceiling," waved Nicole interrupting. "Come on, how was he?"

"Amazing," Lizzie finally admitted with a smile. "Like, lightning bolts amazing," she added.

"I knew it," Nicole shouted from the edge of your seat. "Did you take my advice about the underwear?"

Lizzie laughed, "Yes, I did. Thank you for the tip."

"Ok, start from the beginning," Nicole said, still on the edge of her seat. "So the car picked you up...and?"

As Lizzie relayed the details of the evening, she began to realize something about Mackenzie. He was confident and sexy, but just underneath the surface was a different person that she couldn't quite put her finger on yet. She had seen a calm and inquisitive side of him that made her feel alive. Rather than taking from her, his quiet calm had given her something. She thought for a moment before she finally put her finger on it. He gave her confidence.

"Whew," said Nicole. "I should have snatched him up myself," she said sitting back in her chair and giving Lizzie a wink. "When are you going to see him again? Did you make plans?"

"I guess we will see," said Lizzie shrugging her shoulders.

As James had driven her home, she had spent most of the trip thinking about that exact question
.
Is he going to call?

"Do you mind if I take a shower and a nap now?" Lizzie smiled motioning to her bedroom.

"Yes, yes," Nicole said as she pretended to wave her away disgustedly. "You have sex all over you. I'm out," she said pretending to run in place before stretching to touch her toes.

Lizzie took off her black dress and placed it carefully on her bed. She walked into the bathroom, and turned on the hot water. The room filled with steam as she stepped into the shower, closed her eyes, and let the water rain on top of her. She placed her hand over her breast, remembering Mackenzie's touch. The thought of his strong hands on her body made a shallow breath escape from her lips. Almost unconsciously, her hand moved downward over her stomach and between her legs.  Replaying events of the evening had made her wet, and she moved her finger in slow, circular motion.  Letting another breath escape, she pressed a finger deep inside. She closed her eyes tight, and thought of his muscular hips pressing himself inside of her. She pushed her hips forward to meet her finger. Before she expected it, her body quivered, and an orgasm made her legs shake. She slowly opened her eyes, hoping Mackenzie would somehow be standing in front of her.

She troweled off and put on an old T-shirt and shorts before collapsing on the bed. She closed her eyes, still breathing heavily. Placing her hands on her chest, she slowly drifted to sleep.

I hope he calls.

17

At exactly nine-thirty, Mackenzie stepped out of the Duesenberg and extended his umbrella. He followed the winding path of the city park until he came to a group of park benches. The park was mostly deserted, with only a few people bundled up to walk their dogs. A photographer was bent over a group of flowers taking pictures of the raindrops, as a couple scurried by him holding papers over their heads. It seemed the rain had washed away any hopes of a fun day in the park.

By the benches, he saw the silhouette of a small man in an oversized trench-coat. The man blew hot air into his hands to warm them as a cloud of cold breath lingered above his head. He spotted Mackenzie, and met him towards the first park bench in the row. The two men shook hands and then embraced.

"Thank you for meeting with me Mr. Anderson," Mackenzie said.

"Mackenzie, for the hundredth time, you can call me Marc," laughed Anderson.

Mackenzie smiled, and shook his head at the man. "So, you send me a cryptic note to get the key, which wasn't easy by the way. Then you invite me to the party. I still don't know why. Then there is my dad's letter." Mackenzie paused for a moment and looked directly into the man's eyes." All this time, you knew what my father's wish was for me, and you didn't say a thing."

"It wasn't my story to tell," said Anderson grinning back. "And I invited you to the party to make sure you would be in town. I knew your dad wanted you to have the letter on that date, and I had to make sure you would be around to find it. I also wanted you there so Steele and Wickes clients could see that you are still very much in the picture. I'm sorry for the secrets. I couldn't tell you anything until the time was right. Your father insisted."

"Well it would have saved a lot of counseling if you had told me, Mackenzie joked. More of that attorney client privilege stuff with you and dad I guess, eh councilor."

Anderson grinned and Mackenzie put his hand on the man's shoulder.

"You were my father's most trusted associate and friend," Mackenzie said, giving Anderson's shoulder a squeeze. "And now it appears we will be working together again. I hope you will be able to guide me through a few mazes."

"Do you think it was an accident that I'm your godfather, Mackenzie? It's my job to get you out of the maze. Are you sure you want this? I mean absolutely sure?"

Mackenzie nodded, deep in thought.

"I bet your head is swimming," said Anderson.

"You have no idea," Mackenzie said. His father had dropped the business in his lap, but what really had set him in a spin was Lizzie Fox.

"The first step is getting through Wickes," Anderson said. "I fear he is much more powerful than your father had anticipated. Your father had been able to secure a majority half of the company for you by paying off some of Wickes' bad debts, but he won't step down without a fight. Are you sure you are ready?"

"I am, Mackenzie said solemnly." Just six months ago, he might have worked a deal with Wickes and sailed away with money, no worries, and zero regret. His father's note had certainly grounded him a bit and reminded him how much he wanted to lead his father's company. Thinking harder, he realized there was more to it than that. For the first time ever, he felt truly calm. He thought for a moment and then smiled. It was Lizzie. In only a short time, her warmth had unlocked something in him. She didn't see him as a billionaire's son, she saw him as just him. He somehow didn't have to prove himself to her. He didn't have to play the part. He stood for a moment wondering how all of this emotion could have come out of a single date.

"Mack, Mack...you ok? You look a bit lost." Mackenzie nodded. Only his mother had ever called him Mack, and he felt a pang of sadness. The letter and the ring had opened a wound that had been slow to close.

"Good, now the key is that Wickes doesn't get wise to the fact that we are together on this," said Anderson lowering his voice.

Mackenzie nodded.

"As far as Wickes knows, I am just one of your father's former associates that's lucky enough to still be on the payroll. Lets keep it that way." He looked at Mackenzie. "It's going to be great having a Steele at the helm again," smiled Anderson slapping him on the back.

"Sit tight till you hear from me," said Anderson. "Timing is key."

Anderson held out his hand to Mackenzie, and the the two shook hands and turned to part in opposite directions.

Mackenzie approached the Duesenberg.

Am I ready for all of this?

As James opened his door, Mackenzie took out his cell phone. During his conversation with Anderson, he had pinpointed the reason for his strength and calm during this ordeal. He thumbed through his contact list and found Lizzie's name. As the Duesenberg slowly rolled away from the park, he put the phone to his ear and smiled.

In the park, a man in a black T-shirt hastily threw a camera back in his napsack. He walked briskly for a few hundred paces to a row of park benches and pulled out cell phone.

"Mr. Wickes....we have a problem."

18

Lizzie had been relieved when Mackenzie called to arrange a second date. He had waited three days to call her and Nicole had joked that he was just following the "three day rule" so he wouldn't seem eager. In reality, it was Lizzie who was eager. She longed to see his face, see his smile, and smell his skin.

There was more to him though, and as Lizzie had replayed their first date over and over in her head, she was struck by the fiery passion that flowed through his veins. He was passionate about business for sure, and Lizzie smiled when she thought of herself running a design business. In a few short hours, he had made her believe it was possible, and the thought was exhilarating.

He also was very passionate as a lover. She had not expected to be blindfolded. It was a bit scary, but exciting. Depriving her sense of sight had made her other senses go on overdrive, and she had experienced one of the most powerful orgasms of her life.

"So what are you guys doing," asked Nicole, blindly flipping the remote through channels as she painted her toenails. "I assume you are thinking of him, because you're staring at the friggin' wall with a smile on your face."

Lizzie pulled herself back from the daydream and gave Nicole a guilty smile.

"I'm not sure," said Lizzie, "but he's picking me up on Saturday."

"Maybe he will fly you to the opera like i
n
Pretty Woma
n
," said Nicole with a smile.

"Ok, first I'm not a prostitute, so thanks," said Lizzie giving a face of pretended shock. "Second, he doesn't fly so I don't think that's going to happen."

"He's scared to fly?", quizzed Nicole. "What the fuck, that's weird."

"It's not weird. A lot of people are scared to fly," responded Lizzie wishing she had kept it to herself.

"I guess," said Nicole bending her leg to blow on her toes.

It was a bit odd that Mackenzie was afraid to fly. He had said there was a story behind it, and she wondered what it was. When he had spoken to her about sailing, it seemed like he viewed it as almost an extreme sport.

"Well, opera or not, I won't wait up for you this time," Nicole said with a smile.

19

Anderson turned and looked behind him. He had the strange feeling he was being followed, but he continued up the path to his house. He closed the door behind him and turned the deadbolt. He walked into the living room, and picked up a hardcover book from the floor. He placed it on a large stack near the couch and pulled a bottle of single malt scotch from a silver tray on the end table. The cork squeaked as it exited the bottle, and he poured himself a tumbler full of the brown liquid.

Spying another book on the floor, he reached down and placed it carefully on the stack. He had a cleaning lady that came in twice a month, but lived the life of an old bachelor.

He got up from the couch and grabbed his drink. Walking to his home office. He pulled out his keychain and slid a key into the door. Keeping the door of his home office locked was an old habit. There weren't many secrets kept here anymore, except one. He sat at his desk and thumbed through his keys until he found a small gold key about an inch long. He inserted the key into the top desk drawer and paused before twisting it. He removed the contents of the drawer, placing two file folders on the top of his desk. One folder was black with gold writing. The other folder was red and much thinner. He stared at them for a moment as though wary of the papers sitting before him. Placing the black folder to the side, he took another sip of scotch. Taking a long deep breath, he opened the red folder.