The American Earl (10 page)

His hands worked slowly but with a purpose. As she sat on the bed watching him, he smoothed his fingers around her instep, over her slim ankle, and upwards along her calf. “Take them off,” he whispered, indicating her pantyhose.

She slid off the beige hose and let them fall beside the bed, her eyes wider now, with a touch of apprehension. He caressed one long, silky limb, raised her foot then grinned at her over it.

She lifted a questioning brow and mouthed,
What?

He liked that this was all surprises for her. Feeling devilish, he brought her toes to his lips and kissed each of them. She shivered, giving an extra little quiver like a kitten waking from a nap. Her smile was curious, serene and eager all at the same time. He drew the tip of his tongue up the sole of her foot; she tasted of baby powder and vanilla.

Letting out a little whimper, she curled her toes.

“All right?” he asked.

“Yes…definitely, yes,” she squeaked.

Delighting in her reaction, he pressed out a row of soft kisses around her instep to the top of her foot, her ankle, and up over her knee and thigh. More than anything at that moment, he wanted to continue along
the silky path of flesh and taste her essence. But it was much too soon for that. He feared she might be frightened or panic, then he would have failed at his task. He promised himself that treat later, if she allowed him.

His hands worked with expert ease now, moving behind her back to unzip her dress, sliding her delicate shoulders free, unhooking her bra, letting her dress and panties disappear over the edge of the bed. At last, he had her naked before him.

Matt didn't want to make her feel self-conscious, but he couldn't help sitting back for a moment to study her. He let his hands travel over her body, memorizing her as a blind man learns a person's face by touch. Her breasts were small, tight and deliciously budded with small brown nipples. Her waist was slim but not emaciated or hardened with unnatural muscle. Her hips…ah, her hips beckoned to him and he cupped her bottom with his hands. She lifted her knees, opening herself to him.

“Abby,” he breathed, “do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

She smiled indulgently up at him, looking not at all afraid. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”

He had to some. This time he meant it.

“All those years, you must have had to fight the boys off with a club.”

She grinned. “No clubs handy tonight.”

“I can see that,” he whispered hoarsely. “Listen, if I do anything that hurts you, tell me. If I don't react fast enough, slug me. I have a feeling I might get carried away, and I don't want you to think you have to submit to something that you don't feel comfortable doing.”

“All right,” Abby agreed solemnly. She looked down. “You have a beautiful chest.” She touched him lightly, still unsure why she felt not a lick of fear or timidity. She had imagined being overcome by the awkwardness of the moment. She had been sure she would feel embarrassed, vulnerable, even terrified when lying naked before a man. None of that even entered her mind. She let her fingertips drift through the short curls over his muscled chest, then let them trail down his stomach to his hips. “Do those come off?”

He followed her gaze to his pants. “Occasionally.”

She thought she noticed a slight trembling in his fingers as he unzipped then stood beside the bed to step out of them. Before he could remove the black briefs he wore underneath, she reached up and drew one finger along the diagonal ridge outlined by the fabric. It felt firm and interesting.

He smiled at her, grasped her hand and pressed her palm over him. “That means the man behind the weapon finds you very appealing, miss.”

“Learn something new every day.”

“Ready for more?”

She nodded.

He edged the wide elastic band down over his hips, then all the way off. She fixed a wide-eyed look on him, ran her tongue between her lips twice, and swallowed. “Oh my…”

He laughed at her expression, one of mixed disbelief and intrigue. “Like what you see?”

“I…well, of course I…” She gazed helplessly up at him. “I'm afraid I'm too small. I mean just look at you…I could never—”

“You will,” he said with quiet certainty. “Move over, Abby.”

She slid to one side, keeping him in sight, watching for sudden moves. The one thing she didn't want to do was scream or react foolishly to something that would be natural to an experienced woman, because then he wouldn't make love to her. More than anything at this moment, she longed for that.

He stretched out beside her. “I'll take it easy. Promise.”

She nodded.

“Remember the cove?”

She felt a heady warmth rise within her, intensified by their nakedness. “Yes,” she whispered.

“May I touch you like I did there?”

“Umm-hmm.”

She watched his eyes, his wonderful dark eyes as his hand lowered beneath her sight line. Then she felt his fingertips moving between her thighs. She let her knees fall a little farther apart.

“Relaxed?” he asked.

“Oh sure,” she said. “Like a cat in a clothes dryer.”

He chuckled. His hand rested over the softly furred mound of her womanhood, moving in soothing circles. His head lowered, until his mouth closed over her breast. She felt all the tension drain from her body as his tongue and teeth played with her nipple, drawing her into his mouth.

“Better,” she murmured. “Oh, that's nice, too.”

His hand was finding the same spot it had found at the cove, a sensitive little button of flesh between her legs. Each time his finger flicked over it, her heart
fluttered, her insides tightened, and a flash of heat burst through her.

He was slipping his finger a little deeper each time it came back to center…a little deeper…a little firmer…a little more persistent. She stared up into his eyes. They were kind, concerned and observant of every nuance of emotion in her features. For a second, his hand seemed to falter, as if he wasn't sure of himself.

She quickly grabbed his wrist. “Please…don't stop, Matt. I won't change my mind.”

With a nod he slipped his finger just a fraction of an inch into her. It felt tight but not painful. “Just another minute,” he leaned down to whisper into her ear then stayed low over her. “Hold on to me.”

She gripped his shoulders, and felt a second finger press close to the first, then move against the tightness. There was a bright burst of sensation that moved so quickly past discomfort it didn't seem important. Slowly, with great gentleness, Matt moved his fingers within her, bringing lovely, healing warmth, tingles of a sort she'd never felt before, waves of pleasure so brilliant and potent she could only hold on to his muscled shoulders, now glistening with sweat, and let him lift her higher into a place she'd never been.

She was so swept away by the feelings he was bringing to her, she hardly was aware of his moving momentarily to reach for protection. Then she felt him shift his weight above her, bring himself between her thighs, and enter the swollen, moist passage. It became a new dance. With a feeling that her partner had fully mastered each step. And they rose and fell together until the room spun and her body felt as if it
were consumed by flames. At last Matt lifted himself above her and groaned with primal satisfaction, arching his back and pressing fully within her. He had been right. He fit. All of him. Much to her delight.

M
att woke and it was still dark outside. He turned his head to look at Abby, hugging a pillow, turned on her side away from him. Reaching over he lifted a strand of hair covering her eyes. She sighed softly.

“Come,” he whispered. “Come to me.”

She shifted sleepily, moving as if in a dream, shoving the pillow away and rolling toward him, her eyes still closed. Her cheek rested on his chest, her right leg hooked over his hip. Closing his arms around her protectively, he knew that nothing about this night could be bad. She had been perfect, and he had only faltered that once when he suddenly feared letting her down.

The doubts that had plagued him earlier in the evening were miraculously gone. Nothing much seemed to matter except being close to Abby. And two people couldn't get much closer. Her skin felt flushed, alive,
soft against the muscle and sinew of his body. The image of flesh on flesh drew itself out, tempting him again.

“You awake, Ab?” he whispered, feeling the urge again, needing to feed his hunger for her. They had already made love twice. Once because there had been work to be done. The second time because she had asked, shyly but with a serious gleam in her eyes he found charming and irresistible. He had enthusiastically obliged.

“Sleeping,” she murmured. The corners of her lips turned up. “Go away.”

“Lots of time for laziness tomorrow.” He gently rolled her to her other side, tucking her bottom against him as he moved onto his side. Slipping his arms around her from behind, he buried his face in her whisper-soft hair and fondled her breasts until he sensed from her pleased wriggles that she was fully awake and eager for another lesson.

“Something new?” she asked breathily.

“If you like.”

She turned her head against the pillow, looking back over her shoulder at him and stretched up to kiss the underside of his whiskery chin. “I like.” Her voice was trusting, eager, and happy—and worked like magic on his body. He felt full against her plush little bottom. When he moved within the familiar moist feminine cove, she pressed back against him and reached her climax so quickly he didn't have to wait for his own.

 

The days that followed spun themselves out like pink cotton candy for Abby. During the past three weeks, they'd spent long hours in bed, touching each
other, talking, laughing, making love. She learned ways to arouse him almost instantly. She discovered the few places he didn't like to be touched and many more he did. Before they had become intimate, nearly all they talked about and nearly all Matt did was involved in Smythe International. Now he avoided mention of business. All he wanted to do was talk about her, about them, about the music of the happy little tree frogs and which flowers had bloomed in the garden that day.

“My favorites are the hibiscus,” Abby said with a sigh. “The ultimate tropical flower—fiery orange, blazing red. Huge, plump blooms and tongues of gold.”

“They sacrifice long lives for drama,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “Did you know that each blossom lasts only one day?”

She looked up at him from where she lay against his chest. “Really?”

“Really. That's all the time they have.”

“How sad.” She twirled a finger through short hairs in the center of his stomach. She was about to say that people were like that, sometimes. Some living long, unremarkable lives, while others lit up the world with a brief blaze of glory. Then there were relationships. Some were strong and lasting, but to the observer might seem unexciting. Other couples loved with explosive passion that didn't last.

Was that what she and Matt were? Participants in a brief affair? One-day bloomers?

The ringing of the telephone interrupted thoughts that had become suddenly troubling.

“I'll get it,” she said, glad for something to distract her.

“Let me know if it's anything important. We should get up and go outside sometime today.” He winked at her in passing on his way into the bathroom.

Abby heard the shower turn on as she picked up the phone.

It was Paula, calling from Chicago. “For days and days I've left messages,” she complained as soon as she heard a live voice.

Abby smiled secretively. “Sorry. Things have been busy here.”

“I swear, that man can make work for himself even in paradise. Is he eating? Is he getting any sleep?”

She sounded like a typical mother, worrying over her college-age son.

“His appetite is just fine.” Abby had to stop herself from adding: And he's eating well, too. A long band of silence came to Abby across the line. “Paula, you still there?”

“Sweet Lord in Heaven, save us all.”

“What?”

“He's seduced you, hasn't he?” the older woman groaned. “I'll kill him.”

“Now, Paula,” Abby said soothingly. “Don't be upset. He's being perfectly wonderful.”

“You don't know him like I do. When he's being perfectly wonderful, he's a danger to the entire female gender.”

“Believe me, he hasn't taken advantage of me.”

“He wouldn't mean to,” Paula insisted. “He never means any harm. But he'll hit the wall and it will all get too personal for him. He can't handle forever, darling. He'll break it off as soon as things get serious.” She lowered her voice as if she feared, all the
way from Chicago, her voice might be heard by her employer. “He tell you about his parents?”

Abby straightened defensively. “Yes.”

“Matthew won't risk being left behind again.”

Abby wanted to explain that there were no expectations on either side. She wanted to tell Paula that all Matt was doing was guiding her through a challenging time in her life. He was the teacher, she the student. Along the way, he was bringing her immense joy.

But she knew in her heart that she'd stopped thinking about their arrangement in such simple terms. A telling silence stretched between the two women.

At last, Paula's voice came again. “It's too late, isn't it? You've fallen in love with him.”

Abby let out a brittle laugh. “That's ridiculous.”

Barely a heartbeat passed before Paula murmured, “Abigail, I'm so sorry.”

Abby closed her eyes and clutched the receiver. Was it that obvious? “I'll be all right. Really.”

“The best thing you can do is get out while you can, dear. I don't want to lose you. I like working with you. But it's going to be hell for you, seeing him every day after it's been like this between the two of you.”

“Maybe he won't run this time,” Abby said weakly.

“Maybe he'll chuck being an entrepreneur and take up knitting.” There was a rustling sound from the other end, as if Paula was shuffling papers. “He works like a maniac for a reason. It's his way of shutting down his emotions. He can't deal with loving a woman. He told me, once, he could still remember his mother's face. He remembers her kissing him
goodbye then picking up a suitcase and walking away from him and his brothers.”

“But I'd never leave him,” Abby protested. “Not if he wanted me to stay. I'd never hurt him.”

“Are you sure?” Paula asked gently. “What if someone from your past came back into your life?”

Abby frowned. “I don't understand.”

“A man called yesterday. Left a message for you to call him. A Mr. Wooten?”

Abby gasped. “Richard?” The last time she'd seen her fiancé, he had been walking out of her life, with energy.
I can't take the chance of marrying a frigid woman.

For the first time since they'd broken up, the mention of his name didn't wrench her heart out of her chest. She felt nothing. Another man possessed her, heart and soul. She was in love with Matt.

“Did you tell him I was out of the country?”

“I did, but he was insistent. Said he was your fiancé.”

“Not anymore he isn't,” she stated briskly. “That was finished more than a year ago.”

“Maybe not for him.”

Now that was a disturbing thought. “What he wants no longer matters,” Abby said.

“Well, don't say I didn't warn you. I told the man you'd call him when you could, but do as you like. Now, I need to talk to that
wonderful
boss of ours.” Her sarcasm wasn't subtle.

“He's in the shower now,” Abby said, feeling a twinge of discomfort at the intimacy of the statement.

“I'll have him call you back as soon as he's out.”

She hung up, then stood watching the phone for several minutes, as if she expected it to leap up and
bite her. Until this moment, she hadn't admitted to herself, much less to anyone else, that she was in love with Lord Matthew Smythe, the earl of Brighton, president of a multimillion-dollar company. Until this moment, she hadn't acknowledged how quickly and completely she'd become sucked into his world. Or how much of her heart he occupied. To think of sleeping in a bed alone, without Matt beside her, seemed unbearable. To consider sitting down to a table for breakfast without first pouring him a cup of coffee, felt somehow illogical. To forget his touch on her body would be tragic.

She was in deep trouble.

 

Matt felt free of the world. It was a strange and new sensation. He simply didn't care about anything except being with Abby, he realized as he stood in the shower.

Each day, they had chosen one of a dozen remote coves ringing the island. They held hands, swam and kissed. They'd taken a glass-bottom boat cruise and marveled at the silvery grunts and blue parrot fish skittering in and out of the reefs. Each evening, he'd dismissed his staff early. They dined alone on the veranda in the moonlight, then made love in the high-walled garden amidst the intoxicating perfume of bougainvillea, hibiscus, and delicate purple Bermudiana blossoms.

She was all he longed for in those days.

For once in his life, he wanted to play. He fought being pulled back into the hectic business world and did not return Paula's calls.

When Matt's guests had arrived at the end of the first week, he'd been forced to let them into the world
he and Abby shared. He'd gone through the gracious motions of entertaining. But across the room, glances were exchanged, desire grew. When he was at last alone with Abby, he'd flung himself at her hungrily, taking her with fierce possessiveness.

Now his thoughts were abruptly ended by the sound of Abby's voice.

“Paula says it's an emergency, Matt. You really do have to talk to her.”

He grumbled and kissed Abby on the smooth curve of her throat as he took the receiver from her. “There's nothing that can't wait until we get back to Chicago,” he barked into the phone.

“Wrong,” Paula snapped. “Joseph Cooper has stolen two of your best clients. I've been trying to tell you they wanted to speak with you personally before turning over their American accounts to him. But when you stayed in hiding, they were offended. It looks as if they're going to break their contracts with us.”

He scowled into space, feeling the old aggressiveness begin to seep back into his veins. “Is that so?”

“I'm glad you're taking some time to…” Paula hesitated. “…to relax. But if you don't come back soon, Matthew, you may not have a company to come back to.”

He hung up, feeling numb and unsure of himself. He looked at Abby.

“What's wrong?” she asked softly.

“Time to go back to the real world.” Even as he said the words, he sensed a subtle change in his mindset. The real world was in Chicago. Bermuda had been a kind of fantasy, hadn't it? Here, nothing mattered except making love with a beautiful woman,
watching her smile, listening to her laugh, taking her into his arms each night. Real life wasn't that easy, or pleasant.

Abby studied his expression then gave him a wary smile. “I love this place. Will we be able to come back soon?”

He wasn't sure whether she was talking about Bermuda, or the intimacy they'd shared. Weren't they one and the same? He wondered if it was possible to take what they had found together back into the life he'd known before she walked into it. Sadly, he thought it unlikely.

“We'll see,” he murmured, turning away. Outside the window, sailboats drifted across an aquamarine cove. The sky was that vivid, almost surreal blue he had seen only above tropical islands. “Better pack.”

 

The flight back to New York was cloaked in tension. If Abby hadn't known better she would have said that the man sitting beside her on the jet was a stranger. They spoke only a few words during the flight to New York, then transferred to a plane destined for O'Hare. They arrived a little after 8:00 p.m. that same night. A few thousand miles of traveling seemed to have transported her light years away from the man who had made love to her amid lush flowers and the whistling of the tree frogs.

By the time the limo picked them up at the airport, Abby was feeling nauseous, her head throbbed, and she carried with her a sense of deep loss.

“Can you be at the office by nine tomorrow morning?” Matt asked when the car rolled up in front of her apartment.

She turned on the seat to stare at him in disbelief.

“What?” he asked.

The driver came around to open the door for her. She ignored him. “What are we doing, Matt?”

He frowned. “I don't understand.” But she could see a nervous glint of recognition in his eyes as he carefully directed them away from hers.

She persisted. “I'm still the same person I was this morning in Bermuda. You are, too.” She leaned closer to him, an urgent pressure building in her chest. “I know you're a dedicated workaholic, but what happens to us now? We have to talk.”

“This isn't the time.” He made a show of consulting his watch. “I have fences to mend, if it isn't already too late.”

She understood he was upset to be losing clients. But she suddenly felt left out, and her hurt turned to anger. Tugging the door out of the driver's hand, she slammed it closed, shutting herself inside the limo with Matt. “I believed the lessons ended the first night we made love. After that, everything between us happened because we shared the same affection for each other.” Tears clogged her throat, making it far too difficult to speak.