Audra Adams - The Bachelor's Bride

Damn Trudy. He’d better nip this bit of news in the bud or the entire building would know about it before five o’clock quitting time.

“Thank you,” Rachel said as she accepted a cup from Charlotte.

“You’re welcome, dear,” Charlotte said. “If you need anything else, just call.”

“That will be all, Charlotte,” Reid said, dismissing her.

She smiled again as she left, and Reid gave her an imperceptible shake-of-the-head warning before returning his attention to the woman across from him.

As Rachel doctored the tea, Reid studied her through a haze of smoke, his eyes hooded, his brain racing. He attempted to conjure up that night once again, more pragmatically this time, without the warm, fuzzy feeling that always seemed to engulf him whenever he thought of her.

That day had been hell. By five o’clock he’d had a raging headache, and the last thing he’d wanted to do was to make the obligatory appearance at the perfume launch party. But he’d relented and agreed to attend. He’d milled around the room several times, shaking hands, making nice to all the media people. The place was packed to capacity, invitations having spawned invitations like rabbits in a warren. They’d rented the armory for the event, which was only blocks from his town house, and the temptation to cut out early was too great to ignore. He had been just about to do that when he’d spotted her.

Like a scene out of an old movie, the hoards of people had faded into the background as their eyes met across the room. Without much thought, he’d changed direction and walked over to her. She’d smiled, and the pounding in his head had seemed to subside. They’d talked party talk, and she’d made him laugh. No easy feat under the best of circumstances, but that night of all nights it had seemed almost miraculous.

He’d asked her to get some air, go for a walk, and she’d accepted. Moving slowly through the crowd, they’d managed to leave without anyone noticing. The night was warm, humid, and after a block or two their clothing had stuck to them. He hadn’t planned it, but they’d ended up near his town house. He’d invited her up for a cool drink, and she’d accepted.

The memories swirled around him as he gazed across the desk at her sipping her tea. She glanced at him over the rim of the cup.

The warm fuzzies returned. He couldn’t remember the rest of the evening without them. She’d been so...real. They’d talked as if they’d known each other all their lives. When she’d commented on the decor, he’d taken her on a tour of the town house, ending up in his top-floor bedroom. She’d teased him about the size of his bed, and he’d jokingly told her to test it out. With lazy informality, she’d stretched out on his bed, luxuriating in the feel of his white satin sheets.

It was then that their eyes had met once again and the same tug that had pulled him to her at the party had brought him to sit on the edge of the bed.

She’d been so unselfconscious that it had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lean forward and kiss her.

And then he’d lost it. All sense of time, place, reality...control. They’d made love with such freedom, such comfort, it had seemed as if they’d been at it for years.

Which was why he couldn’t forget it.

And if it had been that special for him, it had to have been that way for her, as well.

Which was also why he wasn’t buying her claim that she couldn’t remember any of this.

Was it all an act? He couldn’t know, not yet. Not until he’d had a chance to check her out. But she knew Trudy Levin and that was a plus in her favor. Trudy had been with him a long time, and he trusted her completely.

But he’d been this “baby” route before. He’d reached a plateau in life where he was fair game to all around him. When he was in his twenties, he’d been wrongfully slapped with a paternity suit, and while he was able to medically prove the woman wrong and win the case, it had been an expensive and embarrassing undertaking.

Since then he’d become twice shy when it came to relationships. In the last several years, despite newspaper items to the contrary, there had been fewer and fewer women in his life, to the point where he spent a good part of the year alone. And when he chose otherwise, he was particularly cautious, almost to the point of paranoia when it came to using protection. And such had been the case with Rachel.

But condoms didn’t always work—his parents could attest to that—and for that he owed her the benefit of the doubt.

“Better?” he asked as she placed the teacup on the tray.

“Yes. Much.” She looked up at him. “What did you want to ask me?”

“If what you say is true—”

“It is.”

“Then, I suppose I’m asking what you intend to do.”

Rachel toyed with the delicate handle of the teacup. “There are options...choices,” she said softly.

“Yes. Have you made any decision yet?”

She shook her head slowly. “No.” She looked up at him. “I haven’t.”

They stared at each other for the longest time, all those troubling questions with no satisfactory answers hanging in the air between them.

Reid squashed the cigarette in an ashtray. “I’d like to be included in that decision-making process, if I may?”

“Then you believe me?”

He sat back in his chair. “Not necessarily.”

“Then why bother? When I walk out of here today, you don’t ever have to see me again. I promise not to involve you in any way.”

“There is always the possibility that you are telling the truth,” he said. “If that’s the case, Rachel, have no doubts, I will be involved. I take my responsibilities seriously.”

“I’m not your responsibility. I can take care of myself.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said.

“Are you going to investigate my background, Mr. James?” she asked sarcastically.

He stood. “As a matter of fact, I am, Rachel. And, oh, let’s dispense with the formalities. A little late for that, don’t you think? Call me Reid.” He paused and pinned her with his eyes. “You did that night...over and over again.”

Rachel’s throat went dry. She swallowed. “I don’t remember.”

Reid came to her, and she looked up at him. His face was intense, his eyes as green as a meadow in spring. Placing one hand on each armrest, he effectively trapped her in the chair.

“Then let me refresh your memory.”

His mouth came down on hers. Rachel remained absolutely still with no thought of resistance. Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips touched hers. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she parted her lips for him. And as night follows day, his tongue swept into her mouth, met hers, mated, and danced a lovers’ dance.

The first thing that registered in Rachel’s mind was the heat. She remembered that with crystal clarity. Then his scent washed over her, his taste, and a flash flood of memories engulfed her. A powerful twinge of desire unfurled in her belly as his heat drifted down through her mouth into all the vital parts of her body.

Her pulse accelerated to an alarming rate. Her head lolled back against the chair and he followed, opening his mouth wider, deepening the kiss, taking as much as she was willing to give. More.

Reid felt like an alcoholic denied drink for too long, freed at last to have a taste, just this one and no more. His heart and head pounded in tandem as he drank his fill. She whimpered, and the sound vibrated into him, his mouth, his heart, his soul.

His arms began to tremble from exertion and something else he didn’t dare name, and the fear returned.

He released her.

They stared at each other, their faces only inches apart, their breathing labored as if they’d been running.