Lover of My Dreams (45 page)

“Who’s the bad influence now, Sam?” Rachel whispered.

“Come on. We need to get ready for the banquet.”

Rachel watched him silently, her breath catching in her throat as she looked at the powerful maleness of him and the hardness of his body. He turned to walk away and her eyes drank in the sight of his naked, muscular backside as he left her. Goodness, but she loved that man!

She pulled on her pink shirt over her nakedness, cool now that Sam’s warmth wasn’t surrounding her, and walked to his bureau as Sam headed into the bathroom. That was when she saw it on the bureau. The Dr. McCoy action figure that she had left for Sam with Joanna McCoy was displayed safely under a glass dome on a wooden pedestal. Her eyes filled with tears that he had thought her gift to him so special that he had it preserved under glass. Maybe he had thought of her as more than a friend without realizing it. Maybe Joanna McCoy had been right. Maybe he
had
come to realize Rachel’s worth all those years ago.

* * * *

Forty-five minutes later, Rachel sat on Sam’s bed putting the finishing touches on her makeup and brushing her hair, leaving it unadorned to hang softly down her back. Spraying her neck lightly with perfume, she turned to pack away her things and straighten up Sam’s bedroom. As she carefully stepped into the beautiful black chiffon dress that Paulette had lent her, she couldn’t help but think about the last few minutes in Sam’s apartment.

Sam had taken his clothes into the living room when he had re-emerged from the bathroom, winking at her before leaving her alone to shower and get ready for the banquet. She didn’t know what she had expected to see when he looked at her, but she was glad to see happiness and desire when he stood before her. Rachel had smiled at him. He lightly kissed her cheek then walked away. If it were possible, she fell more in love with him at that moment.

She pulled the dress into place and zipped the back as best she could. The black sequined bodice hugged her figure tightly, pushing up her full breasts to swell attractively within the halter neckline. Her shoulders were bare, exposing the creamy softness of her skin and making her feel excitingly feminine.

She picked up her small black clutch purse and stepped into the elegant black heels that she had just purchased. With one final check to make sure that Joanna McCoy’s necklace was safely tucked within the bodice of her dress, she sighed heavily as nerves assailed her. She walked out of the bedroom, the full chiffon skirt swirling slightly below her knees.

Sam stopped in mid-movement, halting the glass of water that he was raising to his lips, and looked at the gorgeous woman that had just entered the room. His woman. Rachel was a vision in the very feminine black dress.

“You look beautiful,” he told her quietly, putting down the glass and walking toward her slowly.

Rachel smiled, relieved that he was pleased with her appearance. As she looked at him, she realized that he was the most incredibly handsome man that she had ever seen. He was dressed in a black tuxedo and bow tie, every bit at ease in the elegance of his formal garb as he had been in his cowboy hat, lumberjack shirt, and jeans back at the campground.

“So do you,” she told him appreciatively.

Sam smiled and reached out to touch her face gently then stepped back and swept his hand toward the door. He saw her hesitate and lowered his hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m a little nervous,” she told him quietly.

“You’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” she said finally. “As soon as you zip the back of my dress, I’ll be ready to go,” she told him, turning around to offer him her back. She lifted the thick tresses of her hair out of the way and waited.

Sam’s breath caught in his throat. He reached forward and zipped up Rachel’s dress. She released her hair and he felt the softness of it brush across his knuckles. He had to close his eyes to control himself.

“Let’s go before I drag you back into that bedroom,” he told her, walking toward the door and opening it to wait for her.

Rachel watched him silently, her own desires bubbling at the surface. She smiled and followed him to the apartment door. The slightest touch from her had made him want her, and she was thrilled. She walked by him quickly and headed toward the elevators. If she had looked over her shoulder, she would have seen Sam close his eyes and swallow as she passed.

Sam leaned back against the door to his apartment and felt her softness pass him. He was lost in a cloud of her delicate scent and had to pull himself out of his thoughts to get moving. As he walked toward the elevators, he found himself wondering how he had existed without her for so long.

* * * *

Sam offered Rachel his arm and escorted her into the exclusive restaurant. She held on to him tightly, the only clue that she was not totally at ease. He looked at her and smiled at her gentle elegance. He knew that she was nervous, but no one else would ever have known it by the proud way that she carried herself.

She was beautiful. The dress complimented both her figure and her coloring. He found himself staring at her and smiled when she looked up at him and caught him.

“What?” she asked him, worried that something was wrong.

“Nothing,” he told her quietly. “I’m just admiring you.” He turned away from her to walk her toward the entrance, missing the look of surprise that registered on her face before she smiled shyly at the compliment.

He reached into the inside pocket of the tuxedo to remove the invitation to the banquet and handed it to the hostess who stood waiting to greet them. Rachel watched him silently and was impressed by his impeccable manners.

“Your name, sir,” the woman asked discreetly as she looked down at the guest list before her.

“Sam McCoy and guest,” he told her, placing his hand on top of Rachel’s as it rested in the crook of his arm to squeeze it reassuringly.

“Mr. McCoy,” the woman began, hesitantly. “I don’t have your companion on my guest list, and I don’t have a place for her at your table.”

“Then please find a place for us,” he told her, looking at her intently.

“I’m sorry,” the woman began to protest. “I can’t do that. The seating has already been arranged, and all tables are full.”

“Dr. McCoy is Mr. Edwin McCoy’s son, Felicia,” a man’s authoritative voice interrupted her. “Please see that he and his guest are seated at the table closest to the dais.”

Sam viewed the man silently, tensing at his words. Rachel saw the clenching of his jaw muscles and felt his hand tighten over hers.

“Yes, sir,” Felicia said quickly. “I’m sorry for the delay, Dr. McCoy,” she apologized. “Your table will be ready for you at your convenience. Table number one.”

Sam nodded and walked past the two staff members, fighting to control his anger. His father’s notoriety bothered him. The employee’s nervousness at having insulted Edwin McCoy’s son bothered him even more.

Rachel gasped softly as they entered the banquet room where the dinner was being held. It was incredibly beautiful. Ornate crystal chandeliers hung throughout the room. Each table held one dozen white roses encased in crystal vases placed on top of light blue linen tablecloths of the finest quality. The linen napkins were white, folded into an elegant fan shape, and were arranged delicately on top of the beautiful bone china place settings. Crystal wine goblets and water glasses sparkled in the soft lighting. Quiet music drifted across the room from the small orchestra in the far corner of the elegant hall. If ever there was a place where you would expect royalty to appear, this was it.

Sam led Rachel over to the hors d’oeuvres and handed her a small china dish and a linen napkin. Rachel took them from him and reached forward to select two small wedges of cheese, three crackers and a small branch of green grapes.

“This place is beautiful,” she whispered to him, unable to keep her eyes from roaming about the room.

“Not as beautiful as you are,” he whispered, picking up a plate and filling it with cheese and crackers. “I’m starving. Must have worked up an appetite somehow,” he teased her.

Rachel blushed and bit into a cracker. She winked at him playfully and was rewarded by his soft laughter.

“Do you want some champagne?” he asked when an elegantly clad server, complete with white gloves, offered him a tray of fluted glasses filled with bubbling champagne.

“No, thank you,” Rachel declined. “I don’t drink. I’d rather have a glass of water.”

Sam smiled at her and sipped at the glass of champagne that he held. “Would you please get a glass of water for the lady?” he asked the young man pleasantly.

The waiter nodded, bowing slightly before departing. Sam watched him go then turned to look at Rachel.

“You don’t drink at all?” he asked her quietly, a little surprised.

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t really like the taste of anything, and I always get a headache after only one drink. I do like Chambord with milk, though. It tastes like cotton candy. But even that gives me a headache after one glass.”

Sam smiled and took her hand to lead the way to their table. He didn’t like the fact that they were so close to the head table and therefore close to his father. He put down his plate of food then pulled out the chair to his left for Rachel. When she placed her plate of hors d’oeuvres on the table, she made a move to sit down but was stopped by his hand. She looked up at him in confusion. He leaned toward her and gently kissed her cheek then released her arm and allowed her to sit down.

Rachel smiled up at him and settled herself in her chair, happy when he pulled his chair closer to hers and placed his left arm across the back of hers. His hand touched her bare shoulder and caressed it gently. She felt him squeeze her shoulder lightly when the waiter returned and placed the crystal goblet of water in front of her.

“Thank you,” Sam said quietly, smiling at the young man.

“You are very welcome, sir,” the server replied, a little shocked by the kindness of the man.

Sam nodded and watched as the young man walked away. It always upset him when he went to social functions and saw the way the members of high society treated the servers. It was awful.

“What was that kiss for?” Rachel whispered when the young man had left.

Sam leaned toward her, his mouth close to her ear so that no one would be able to hear his words. Rachel’s heart beat a little faster at his closeness, and she found herself turning toward him to look directly at his lips.

“I was just thinking that I won’t have to worry about you feeling deprived that you won’t be able to drink when you’re pregnant,” he whispered, his eyes sparkling.

Rachel reached down and touched his hand that rested possessively on her leg. “I would be so thrilled to be pregnant, I wouldn’t mind what I would have to give up,” she told him honestly. “Unless I had to give up making love with you.”

Sam thought his heart was going to come right out of his chest. The tenderness he was feeling right then was so intense, he wanted to take Rachel from this place and make love to her for the rest of the night and well into the morning.

“Baby, we have to talk about something,” he told her quietly, leaning in toward her so that their faces were inches apart. “I should have talked to you about this before.”

“What?” she asked, worrying at his sudden seriousness.

“We haven’t talked about birth control,” he said calmly. “Are you on the pill?”

“No, Sam,” she whispered, blushing at the question. “I had no reason to be.”

Sam relaxed visibly and smiled at her, his chest tight with emotion as he viewed her gentle innocence. “Good,” he said finally. “I don’t want you to be.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I don’t.” He reached up and touched her cheek with the back of his knuckles as he sighed softly. “I wasn’t careful with you, honey. We didn’t use condoms.”

“I know. I was there,” Rachel said, laughing softly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t exactly give you a choice,” he apologized.

“Yes, you did,” she said quietly. “I was completely aware of what we were doing and that we weren’t using protection. I knew I wasn’t ovulating so you don’t have to worry.”

“Your cycle is pretty regular?” he asked.

Rachel blushed but looked at him seriously. “Yes. I got my period just after I was sick—although it wasn’t like my usual period.”

“That’s understandable, honey. You were pretty sick. Your body wasn’t up to having a normal flow.”

“Geez, Sam. This is a pretty intimate conversation.”

Sam smiled and leaned in to kiss her cheek lightly before placing his mouth against her ear. “Baby, what we do every time we make love is intimate, and I love every minute of it, just like I love talking to you about this right now.” He eased back and smiled at her, his eyes sparkling at the soft expression she gave him.

“Birth control is your choice, honey. It will always be your choice.”

Rachel nodded, thankful for the fact that Sam acknowledged and accepted her complete control over her body and their future. “I appreciate that,” she told him softly. “What do you want?” Her voice was cautious, her insides nearly turning liquid at the thought that his desires just might match her own secret wish.