Second Chance Girl
Page 22
Not that, you know, Ulrich was asking.
“You’re thinking about something,” he murmured.
“That I am. So, you’re going to have to get married and have heirs, aren’t you?”
He nearly choked. “That’s direct.”
And a neat change of subject, she thought smugly. “I know. It’s an American thing again. So, is there a future duchess waiting at home?”
“Not at this time. There is, however, pressure.”
“Sure. Your grand estate had needs.”
“Don’t remind me. It was difficult enough the first time.” He glanced at her. “Getting married, I mean.”
“I didn’t think you were talking about the heir producing.”
“Excellent.”
She smiled. “Why was it difficult? You have commitment issues? Too many fish in the sea?”
“It was more about finding the right fish. Penelope and I were very much alike. Family and duty mattered. We were friends and thought that was enough.”
They hadn’t been in love? How sad. Violet wanted to be in love and she wanted to be loved in return. Otherwise, why get married? Of course she didn’t have a five-hundred-year-old inheritance to steward into the next century.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t,” she said quietly.
“I am, as well.” Ulrich finished his drink, then looked at her. “She left me for someone.”
“Oh. I didn’t know. Your grandmother wouldn’t have mentioned that to me.”
“You’re right. She wouldn’t.” He paused. “It was a woman. When I asked Penelope why she hadn’t told me the truth from the beginning, she said she’d been hoping she was wrong. That I would change her mind.” His smile was self-deprecating. “I like to think I’m rather good, but no one is that good.”
Violet honestly had no idea what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” One shoulder rose and lowered. “I’ve heard she’s in a relationship now and is very happy. I wish her the best.”
“You’re a good man.”
“Thank you. I try. Now we shall change the subject to something slightly more interesting. I’d like to hear about the wedding you’re currently working on.”
“It’s normal. Completely and totally regular. No under-the-sea, no aliens, no cowboys.”
“How disappointing.”
“Tell me about it.”
* * *
THE EVENING FLEW BY. Violet found herself more charmed with each passing minute. Ulrich had her laughing as he told her about his trip to Hollywood and she talked about her summers in South Africa and how she was so not the outdoor type. By the time she and Ulrich finished their coffees, she found herself wondering if it was possible to fall for someone in a matter of hours.
Not that she had. She was caught up in a very fun, very unreal set of circumstances. Her reaction to Ulrich was partly the wine, partly the fact that he was leaving and partly all the daydreams she’d had about the young man who had taken the time to make her younger self feel special for a moment or two. It wasn’t real. Come tomorrow, he would fly home and she would return to her regularly scheduled life. All she had to do was get through the next few minutes without making a fool of herself.
They tussled briefly over the bill. Okay, she offered to pay half and he gave her a withering look followed by, “That is simply not how things are done. I invited you, Violet. The pleasure is mine.”
As they walked to the front of the restaurant, he placed his hand on the small of her back. She felt the warmth of each finger, the pressure of his palm and did her best not to purr like some lonely cat. When they reached her car, she gave herself a quick “say goodbye and get out of here” lecture, in a futile attempt to keep herself from acting foolishly. Or worse, to avoid throwing herself at him. After all, they were in a parking lot and while it was dark, they were hardly anywhere private. Even more significant, she had no idea what he thought of her. She tried to be strong but the fear of rejection always made her feel small. Still, she had to say something only she had no idea what it was supposed to—
He drew her close and kissed her. The unexpected action stole her breath—or maybe it was simply the proximity of the man.
His mouth was firm yet gentle. One hand settled on her hip while the other tangled in her hair. She rested her fingers on his strong, broad shoulders. He smelled good, he kissed better and after maybe eight seconds, she knew she was a total goner.
Figuring some version of what the hell, she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned into him and parted her lips. He didn’t hesitate—not for a second. His tongue swept inside, then swept her away. Heat grew, as did need. Wanting whimpered. Oh, to be that girl, she thought regretfully.
Ulrich drew back and looked at her. “You are an unexpected treat, Violet Lund.”
“As are you.”
He smiled and stroked her cheek. “At the risk of saying the wrong thing, would you like to come back to my hotel room?”
She thought about how it would be between them. Both naked, his dark blue eyes blazing with passion. He would feel good inside of her—she just knew it. She could ask him to talk in that sexy voice of his as he touched her everywhere. There were so many reasons to say yes.
“I want to,” she admitted. “But you’re leaving and I’m not that girl.”
His expression never changed. He kissed her again—lightly this time. “You not being that girl is part of your charm. Thank you for a wonderful evening. One I shall never forget.”
The perfect words. She hoped there was a touch of regret in his voice. Maybe more than a touch.
He stepped back, brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her skin. Then he opened her car door for her and waited until she was safely inside before stepping back and waving. She drove away with the thought that doing the right thing had never felt so incredibly sucky in her whole life.
* * *
MATHIAS’S MOUTH CLAIMED Carol’s with an intensity that stole her breath. His hands moved up and down her back and her sides, arousing with every touch, confusing her and exciting her at the same time. She didn’t know what was happening or what he was thinking or what she was thinking, she only knew that she never wanted him to stop.
“Carol,” he breathed, then eased her sideways so they weren’t trapped by the sofa and coffee table anymore. “Carol. You have to say this is okay. Please.”
His voice was thick, his tone pleading. The passion was clear in the way he claimed her mouth over and over again. She could barely manage a quick “Yes” between kisses. When his tongue skimmed her bottom lip, she parted for him and then groaned when he swept inside.
Heat poured through her. Hunger stole her breath and any chance at rational thought. When he grabbed her hands and put them on his chest, she allowed herself the thrill of touching him. His shoulders, his back, his arms. He felt good. He felt right. She wanted him, wanted whatever this was.
When his hands reached for her T-shirt, she only had a moment to think that she was wearing her work clothes and probably smelled of hay and gazelle feed. But before she could figure out how to offer an apology or ask for a second to shower, her shirt was off and his hands were touching her breasts over her bra.
At the first stroke of his skilled fingers, she knew that showers and eau du gazelle didn’t really matter. Then her bra went flying and his mouth was on her tight nipple and she couldn’t care about anything except what he was doing to her body.
“You’re thinking about something,” he murmured.
“That I am. So, you’re going to have to get married and have heirs, aren’t you?”
He nearly choked. “That’s direct.”
And a neat change of subject, she thought smugly. “I know. It’s an American thing again. So, is there a future duchess waiting at home?”
“Not at this time. There is, however, pressure.”
“Sure. Your grand estate had needs.”
“Don’t remind me. It was difficult enough the first time.” He glanced at her. “Getting married, I mean.”
“I didn’t think you were talking about the heir producing.”
“Excellent.”
She smiled. “Why was it difficult? You have commitment issues? Too many fish in the sea?”
“It was more about finding the right fish. Penelope and I were very much alike. Family and duty mattered. We were friends and thought that was enough.”
They hadn’t been in love? How sad. Violet wanted to be in love and she wanted to be loved in return. Otherwise, why get married? Of course she didn’t have a five-hundred-year-old inheritance to steward into the next century.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t,” she said quietly.
“I am, as well.” Ulrich finished his drink, then looked at her. “She left me for someone.”
“Oh. I didn’t know. Your grandmother wouldn’t have mentioned that to me.”
“You’re right. She wouldn’t.” He paused. “It was a woman. When I asked Penelope why she hadn’t told me the truth from the beginning, she said she’d been hoping she was wrong. That I would change her mind.” His smile was self-deprecating. “I like to think I’m rather good, but no one is that good.”
Violet honestly had no idea what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” One shoulder rose and lowered. “I’ve heard she’s in a relationship now and is very happy. I wish her the best.”
“You’re a good man.”
“Thank you. I try. Now we shall change the subject to something slightly more interesting. I’d like to hear about the wedding you’re currently working on.”
“It’s normal. Completely and totally regular. No under-the-sea, no aliens, no cowboys.”
“How disappointing.”
“Tell me about it.”
* * *
THE EVENING FLEW BY. Violet found herself more charmed with each passing minute. Ulrich had her laughing as he told her about his trip to Hollywood and she talked about her summers in South Africa and how she was so not the outdoor type. By the time she and Ulrich finished their coffees, she found herself wondering if it was possible to fall for someone in a matter of hours.
Not that she had. She was caught up in a very fun, very unreal set of circumstances. Her reaction to Ulrich was partly the wine, partly the fact that he was leaving and partly all the daydreams she’d had about the young man who had taken the time to make her younger self feel special for a moment or two. It wasn’t real. Come tomorrow, he would fly home and she would return to her regularly scheduled life. All she had to do was get through the next few minutes without making a fool of herself.
They tussled briefly over the bill. Okay, she offered to pay half and he gave her a withering look followed by, “That is simply not how things are done. I invited you, Violet. The pleasure is mine.”
As they walked to the front of the restaurant, he placed his hand on the small of her back. She felt the warmth of each finger, the pressure of his palm and did her best not to purr like some lonely cat. When they reached her car, she gave herself a quick “say goodbye and get out of here” lecture, in a futile attempt to keep herself from acting foolishly. Or worse, to avoid throwing herself at him. After all, they were in a parking lot and while it was dark, they were hardly anywhere private. Even more significant, she had no idea what he thought of her. She tried to be strong but the fear of rejection always made her feel small. Still, she had to say something only she had no idea what it was supposed to—
He drew her close and kissed her. The unexpected action stole her breath—or maybe it was simply the proximity of the man.
His mouth was firm yet gentle. One hand settled on her hip while the other tangled in her hair. She rested her fingers on his strong, broad shoulders. He smelled good, he kissed better and after maybe eight seconds, she knew she was a total goner.
Figuring some version of what the hell, she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned into him and parted her lips. He didn’t hesitate—not for a second. His tongue swept inside, then swept her away. Heat grew, as did need. Wanting whimpered. Oh, to be that girl, she thought regretfully.
Ulrich drew back and looked at her. “You are an unexpected treat, Violet Lund.”
“As are you.”
He smiled and stroked her cheek. “At the risk of saying the wrong thing, would you like to come back to my hotel room?”
She thought about how it would be between them. Both naked, his dark blue eyes blazing with passion. He would feel good inside of her—she just knew it. She could ask him to talk in that sexy voice of his as he touched her everywhere. There were so many reasons to say yes.
“I want to,” she admitted. “But you’re leaving and I’m not that girl.”
His expression never changed. He kissed her again—lightly this time. “You not being that girl is part of your charm. Thank you for a wonderful evening. One I shall never forget.”
The perfect words. She hoped there was a touch of regret in his voice. Maybe more than a touch.
He stepped back, brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her skin. Then he opened her car door for her and waited until she was safely inside before stepping back and waving. She drove away with the thought that doing the right thing had never felt so incredibly sucky in her whole life.
* * *
MATHIAS’S MOUTH CLAIMED Carol’s with an intensity that stole her breath. His hands moved up and down her back and her sides, arousing with every touch, confusing her and exciting her at the same time. She didn’t know what was happening or what he was thinking or what she was thinking, she only knew that she never wanted him to stop.
“Carol,” he breathed, then eased her sideways so they weren’t trapped by the sofa and coffee table anymore. “Carol. You have to say this is okay. Please.”
His voice was thick, his tone pleading. The passion was clear in the way he claimed her mouth over and over again. She could barely manage a quick “Yes” between kisses. When his tongue skimmed her bottom lip, she parted for him and then groaned when he swept inside.
Heat poured through her. Hunger stole her breath and any chance at rational thought. When he grabbed her hands and put them on his chest, she allowed herself the thrill of touching him. His shoulders, his back, his arms. He felt good. He felt right. She wanted him, wanted whatever this was.
When his hands reached for her T-shirt, she only had a moment to think that she was wearing her work clothes and probably smelled of hay and gazelle feed. But before she could figure out how to offer an apology or ask for a second to shower, her shirt was off and his hands were touching her breasts over her bra.
At the first stroke of his skilled fingers, she knew that showers and eau du gazelle didn’t really matter. Then her bra went flying and his mouth was on her tight nipple and she couldn’t care about anything except what he was doing to her body.
