Hideaway (17 page)

Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked them back before they stained her carefully made-up face. What no one knew was that her honeymoon never began because Owen had been unable to consummate his marriage. He tried day after day, then gave up all pretense, falling asleep beside her tense body.

She had accidentally stumbled upon the reason for Owen’s impotency when she awakened late one night and saw him in the bathroom, bent over her dressing table, inhaling several lines of white powder on the formica top. Suddenly everything was clear
to her. Her husband was addicted to cocaine. She now knew the cause of his mood swings, his lack of appetite and his impotency.

She confronted him and he stared at her with a silly smile on his face. He lied, saying it was his first time trying it and she wanted to scream at him for thinking she was that naive. She issued an ultimatum: go into treatment. She gave him exactly thirty days to sign himself into a drug abuse program or she was going to annul their marriage.

The lies and the excuses continued until she began packing. Then she issued her last ultimatum: give her a divorce or she was going to his superiors at the West Palm Beach Police Department. Her freedom for her silence. Owen finally agreed, her lips sealed with his secret.

But this day was different. She was marrying a man she loved. Joshua would be their witness and Regina her bridesmaid. Other than Brittany and Jon Grant, who’d relocated to the west coast, she had no other close friends or family members to invite.

Martin walked into the bedroom and Parris turned, smiling at him. “Tradition says it’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony,” she teased.

“Since when have we ever been traditional, darling? We’ve lived together, have a nine-year-old child and reside together under my parent’s roof without the benefit of marriage. All that in the face of tradition.” Extending his hand, he pulled her from the bed. He kissed the end of her nose. “If you ever get traditional on me, I’d go crazy with boredom.”

Parris pressed closer to his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. The smell of soap and after-shave clung to his smooth cheek. “I won’t change on you, Martin.”

Martin pulled back. He stared down into the clear brown eyes with just a hint of green in their depths. She wore his Christmas gift in her pierced ears. No jewel or amount of money could come close to the love he felt for her. His black eyes touched her glossy dark hair, curled, pinned up and festooned with delicate baby’s breath. His heated gaze added color to the soft plum blush on her high cheekbones.

“I love you, Parris. I love you more than life itself,” he admitted passionately. “Parris…” He hesitated. He couldn’t begin their life together knowing he owed it to her to reveal his political aspirations. “I’ve got to talk to you,” he continued.

She reached up, straightening the navy and silver striped tie under the collar of his stark-white shirt. “I have to get dressed. Everyone’s waiting for us.”

“They can’t have a wedding without the bride and groom, can they?” he questioned.

Parris registered the sharp retort. Suddenly she felt his tension. “What is it, Martin?”

He pulled her down to the bed beside him, holding her hands tightly. “I’m leaving the family business!”

Her eyes widened at this disclosure. “Why? Who’s going to succeed you?”

This time Martin did not hesitate. “I’ve been grooming David to take over…”

“But he’s a musician,” Parris interrupted.

“He’s a Cole, Parris. He’s inherited Sammy’s instinct for business whether he wants to admit it or exploit it. He’s learned more in three months than I ever did in five years of college.” There was a lethal calmness in the obsidian eyes. “I’m going into politics,” he declared.

“Politics?” An icy chill shook Parris, and she wanted to wrap her arms around her body. “Is that what you meant when you said you needed a wife?”

“No, Parris,” he started. “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand, Martin.” Her voice was low, filled with anger. “You don’t really love me. All those years…”

Martin released her, rising to his feet and towering over her bowed head. “What I feel now was what I felt ten years ago. I
want
you because I love you. And my wanting or needing you has nothing to do with Regina or politics.”

Parris stood up. “Well, Mr. Politician, it looks as if you’ve managed your first fait accompli. I don’t like being treated as if my feelings or opinions don’t matter. You completed this deal
without letting your opponent know the terms that were to be negotiated.”

“You’re not my opponent, Parris.”

“Of course not, Martin,” she drawled. “I’m only the woman you
need
to marry. And because you need a wife, you’re going to get one. Let’s go and get his farce over with.”

The moustache hid Martin’s intense upper lip as it tightened. He didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly hadn’t been Parris’s apathetic attitude to becoming his wife.

“You don’t like it, so why the hell are you marrying me, Parris?”

“Because of Regina,” she said coldly. “And because I’m a fool for loving you, Martin Cole.”

She had declared her love for him but instinct told Martin that, just like Owen Lawson, his entrée into politics would serve as a wedge to keep them apart. He would have Parris the wife and not Parris the woman.

P
arris stood beside Martin, repeating her vows as the judge performed the private civil ceremony in the cooler, shaded magnificence of the loggia.

The setting was ethereal. Large baskets of white flowers in every variety crowded the travertine flooring and the bright orange rays of the setting sun reflecting off the lake threw a strange fiery glow on coral columns and exposed beams and any light-colored surface.

A dress of white organdy, with a large scalloped collar, exposed the smooth length of Parris’s long neck, meeting at a deep V at the hollow of her breasts, flamed like gold. Full sleeves with three inch cuffs, a two-tiered scalloped full skirt and a wide white sash emphasized the narrowness of her waist and created an aura of innocence and unabashed sensual femininity.

The taste of brandy on Martin’s lips was heady and pleasant when he gathered her to his chest, sealing their troth. Handing her bouquet of white roses and lilies to Regina, Parris leaned down to kiss her.

Regina stared up at her mother. “You look pretty, Mommy.”

Regina’s black hair was a curling mass falling down her back to her waist. Miniature white carnations on mother-of-pearl combs held the curls off her face.

Parris smiled. “Thank you. You look very beautiful too, angel.”

“I’ll see you later, Mommy.” Regina’s attention was diverted as she waved to a cousin who had called out to her. “Bye, Daddy.”

Samuel touched Parris’s arm. “Welcome to the family.” He pulled her into an embrace, kissing her cheek. His body was still hard, solid for a man who had recently celebrated his sixty-fifth birthday.

“Thank you, Sammy.”

Samuel’s gaze swept quickly over her face. “My son has exceptional taste in women.”

Parris’s smile was soft and inviting. “Like father, like son?”

“No lie,” Samuel gushed loudly.

M.J., stunning in a dress of black and gold silk, smiled. “Well, it looks as if I got the third daughter I always wanted.”

Parris returned her smile, offering her cheek for M.J.’s kiss. “Thank you.”

M.J. signaled the hired caterers, and the silent, efficient waiters began setting the twisted white rattan tables with food. Patterned coral and white cushions on the many chairs and love seats were quickly filled with Coles and close friends of the family.

Parris smiled graciously, accepting handshakes, kisses and the good wishes from the assembled. After a while she felt as if her face was going to crack from the continuous effort. She lost count of the names of well-wishers and felt strangely relieved when she, having lost Martin in the throng, found herself face-to-face with Joshua. She permitted him to lead her to a deserted area of the loggia. A large potted palm concealed them from the view of the noisy crowd.

She smiled up at him. “I feel like a wooden puppet with a hideous grin painted on my face.”

Joshua nodded, his expression unreadable. His light green eyes caressed her face briefly before his lids shuttered them from her gaze. “Get used to it, Parris. As Martin’s wife you’ll smile when you least want to.”

Martin’s disclosure that he was going to enter the political arena chilled her with Joshua’s statement. “Let’s hope you’re wrong,” she whispered.

Joshua held her left hand, examining the circle of graduated marquise-shaped diamonds in a gold setting on her delicate finger. His left hand moved to her chin, raising her face to his. “You’re a Cole now, Parris.” His voice was soft, almost coaxing. “Surely you’re aware of what’s expected of you. You have it all: beauty, charm, money. Those are the prerequisites, and you’ve succeeded with Martin where so many other women have failed.” He released her hand, but not her chin. “Martin’s taste in jewelry is almost as exquisite as his choice of a wife.” Leaning over, he kissed her cheek. Joshua released her and walked away.

Parris leaned against a column of coral marble staring at the space where Joshua had been. He had disappeared like an apparition. His words tumbled over themselves in her head. Surely you’re aware of what’s expected of you.’

A tremor coursed through her body and she turned, meeting the dark accusing stare of her mother-in-law. Glancing away, Parris searched for Martin, finding his broad shoulders under the jacket of his gray suit as he stood with the judge and his father, talking.

She accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and gulped it down. She returned the empty glass to the tray, reaching for another. The cool sparkling liquid numbed her quivering nerves. Looking around at all of the smiling, talking people she felt alone. Aside from Regina, Martin and Joshua, these people were strangers to her. She recognized names and faces, but she actually did not know them. All of them were Martin’s family and friends and she felt like an outsider. Regina was a Cole by birthright, and she had become one only through her marriage. She wondered if she would ever feel close to this large, peculiar clan.

The celebrating continued, everyone eating, drinking, dancing and talking incessantly. Some of the younger children were escorted protestingly to bed, Regina among them, while the adults became more animated with the approach of the new year.

Parris felt light and carefree after her second glass of champagne. The oysters she had eaten did little to counterbalance the alcohol in her blood. She swayed to the beat of a popular love
song. The hired band had a repertoire ranging from Big Band tunes to the latest club favorites.

Her body stiffened. She detected the familiar fragrance of a specially blended masculine cologne and the warmth of the large body pressing against her back. Fatigue and the champagne had lowered her resistance to where she couldn’t move to escape him. Common sense dictated she not forgive him for his deceit, but all traces of prudent and sound judgment had vanished when she agreed to stay in Florida and marry Martin.

She’d blamed it on Regina, knowing the child wasn’t solely the reason. Martin’s memory had been strong enough for Parris to keep men at a distance, and his love for her strong enough to repress the fear of the blackmailer’s threat until he mentioned politics. Campaigning would not permit her to maintain her privacy or an attempt to achieve a measure of anonymity.

“Promise me you’ll protect me,” she pleaded. The words slipped from her tongue against her will.

Martin’s fingers tightened around her upper arms. “I told you I would, Parris.”

She turned, staring up at his frowning expression. Her fingernails bit into the tender flesh on his wrists. “Promise me!”

Martin felt the fine hairs rise on the back of his neck. He hadn’t noticed any hostility between her and his parents, and could only think of one person who could generate that much panic in her voice. Owen Lawson.

His hands went to her shoulders. “It’s Lawson, isn’t it?” His eyes flashed danger like a cornered animal. “You’ve seen him. He’s bothering you.”

Parris’s hands slipped down to his chest and she tried leaning against Martin, but he held her fast. He was asking her questions she couldn’t answer. Who was it? Owen? Her abductor? Her blackmailer?

“It’s not Owen.”

“Then, who is it?” He shook her gently.

Her fingers curled into tight fists. She was not successful in concealing their trembling when Martin saw them shake. “I
don’t know who it is. Promise me, Martin,” she insisted. “Just promise me.”

“Damn it, Parris!”

“Say it!”

“I promise,” he said, his voice thick and unsteady with tension. He released her and Parris rose on tiptoe, capturing his mouth and seeking and drawing what she needed from him. His gasp of surprise was momentary as he crushed her body to his, desire straining to break loose at any second. She was controlling him and he didn’t care. As long as she loved him he would attempt to walk on water for her. He could not deny Parris anything.

His mouth devoured her luscious full lips, and like a starving man he wanted more; he wanted all of her. “Let’s get out of here,” he panted as he pulled his mouth away from hers.

“We haven’t cut the cake,” Parris sighed, her body throbbing with passion.

Martin ran a forefinger over her swollen lips. “You’re being traditional, darling.”

The corners of her mouth curved in a seductive smile. “You’re right.” She was still smiling as she followed him through the garden to the garage where he had parked his car.

Parris felt like a virginal bride as she reentered the bedroom. Martin stood with his back to the sliding glass doors, waiting for her. He’d surprised her when he drove down the coast to the little beach front cottage where they would spend their honeymoon. They had not talked about a honeymoon, and she simply had put the idea out of her head. The one-bedroom guest house had been stocked with food, and somehow Martin had gotten her dress size and purchased an elaborate trousseau without her knowledge.

He drew one hand out of the pocket of his robe. “Come here.” His soft command sent tremors along her spine. She walked toward him, trancelike. Black eyes, like polished jet, noted everything: her damp hair curling around her neck, the untanned swell of golden-brown breasts rising above the lace of the satin floor-length nightgown, and the undisguised look of love in her eyes.

The soft chiming of a clock on the bedside table penetrated the thick layer of desire gripping Martin. He continued to stare at the woman he had married, listening for the final chime signaling the beginning of a new year.

It was the beginning of many things: being a father; a husband; severing his professional association with his family’s business enterprises, and challenging an incumbent who held the political reins of the state tightly within his grasp.

Martin smiled. He would succeed; only because of the woman standing inches from him.

He watched the play of emotions cross her lovely face. This woman, above all women, made him aware of himself as a man as no one ever had before or since. It was as if Parris had the power to make him physically cognizant of his compelling need to surrender all he had to her.

She, alone, possessed the key to unlock his heart, baring his soul until all of him lay open, raw and penetrable. He was powerless to resist her, and he had not stopped to ponder whether it was physical. If it was it would not have mattered.

The tension in the room was hot and volatile. Their unspoken passions increased and shimmered like waves of heat. Parris ached for Martin: his nearness, his protection, his possession and his love. With Martin she was never rational. Her reaction to his lovemaking from the very first time had always been strong and uncontrollable.

Reaching out, her fingers slipped to the opening in his robe, untying the belt at his waist. The white silk robe parted silently, and her hand moved over his flat belly with agonizing slowness, her fingers brushing over the tight thatch of black hair to encircle the rigid tumescence jutting majestically from between his muscled thighs. Martin was ready for her; he was fully aroused.

She continued caressing the thick velvet softness, smiling as it jerked and pulsed strongly against her palm. Martin closed his eyes, gritting his teeth against the exquisite torture.

His hands moved up to her shoulders, increasing the pressure on her delicate bones as his chest rose and fell in shuddering gasps.
She changed the rhythm and his grip on her shoulders lessened as his fingers swept down to remove the thin straps holding up her gown. One delicate strap ripped when her hand inched lower, fondling and cradling the taut sac filled with his seed.

Parris stared up at the blatant carnality gripping his handsome features. She never knew when the fabric sheathing her body floated to the floor in a whispering shimmering shower of creamy satin.

His fingers began their own exploration as they grazed her breasts, thumb and forefinger tightening on her full, bursting nipples.

“Love me, Martin. Love me the way I love to be loved.” Her litany filled the room.

They had shared a bed Christmas Eve but not since then. He had waited ten years for her. He would wait a little longer.

“No, Parris. Not yet.” His ragged breathing indicated Martin’s control was slipping away as quickly as hers.

Picking her up in one smooth motion, he placed her on the middle of the bed. His body followed quickly, his mouth fixed on hers, demanding and savoring all she had to give him. His fingers slid down her belly and thighs, parting the moist folds concealing her womanhood.

Parris moaned aloud. Shivers of pure pleasure shook her entire body as his fingers plunged deeper.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” Her eyes opened, the tear-filled, green-flecked brown orbs, imploring him to take her. “Tell me what you want,” he crooned near her ear.

“No…no,” Parris cried out when he removed his finger. He smiled. He had no intention of stopping. His finger found her again and again, and her body arched again and again against his hand and questing fingers. The waves of desire crashed down, drowning her with their rushing, heated force.

Martin waited for Parris, cradling her to his chest. She felt the strong pounding of his heart under her breasts as her tongue tasted the salty wetness of his throat, then explored his body as it made circular motions over his hair-matted chest and flat belly.

Every muscle in his body tensed and screamed when her
mouth closed on him with a claim that made Martin faint in burning surrender. He smothered a savage growl, throwing his forearm over his face. She was driving him crazy. Her mouth sent violent jolts through his system, and he sat up suddenly.

“Don’t! Not yet!
Please!”

Parris glanced up at Martin, recognizing the desperation in his command and the naked fear of loss of control. She slid up the length of his damp body, rubbing her breasts against his, while kissing him fully on the mouth. His hands traced the length of her spine, and he shifted until she straddled him. He cupped her buttocks whenever he rose to meet her, establishing a fierce driving rhythm.

“Yes, Martin. Oh yes. Yes-s-s.” The sound of her husky approval gripped him and his ardor spiraled out of control.