Night Music (11 page)

When she asked him like that, in a voice that could melt a man’s insides, he was ready to give
her
anything, rather than the other way around.

“Nothing,” he said, watching her eyes. “I don’t want anything from you.”

He saw her hurt, then she shuttered her eyes.

“I see,” she said.

But she didn’t see, he thought. She didn’t see at all how she could twist him up.

It wasn’t something he planned to tell her either.

The afternoon was just beginning when he finally drove up to her town house.

The tension had reappeared during the long car ride, and Hilary had had no idea how to stop it. Just sitting next to Devlin had produced an awareness that grew as the miles did. Every line of his body, every movement of his, had set off a deep pulsing within her. The air couldn’t seem to find her lungs, no matter how deeply she breathed it in. Hot, heavy syrup seemed to have replaced her blood, especially deep in her pelvis, where it throbbed convulsively. The car’s air-conditioning didn’t cool her off. Instead she felt as if the August heat and humidity had built to an all-time high inside her. Even telling herself that she’d humiliated herself in front of him—albeit unwittingly—didn’t stop the awareness and underlying physical tension.

She didn’t attempt conversation. Halfway up from the shore it had died an uncomfortable death anyway. Devlin had turned the radio on. He stared
out the windshield, watching traffic, and she stared out the side window, watching the sights.

“Thank you,” she said, when he pulled into a parking slot near her town house.

“Yeah,” he muttered, turning off the ignition. “I see your car made it home all right.”

She turned around to look at her regular parking spot, but Devlin was in the way. A tiny voice inside her told her to stop staring. She could, she thought, if he stopped staring at her first. But those blue-green eyes held her mesmerized. She could feel her nipples tighten, and she could see his awareness of her reaction in his quickened breathing.

He reached across the space between them until his fingers touched her hair. They threaded through the strands slowly, as if testing them against his skin.

“Do you know you never wear it free like this?” he said in a quiet voice.

“Yes, I do,” she said, surprised that her calm tone betrayed none of the wild confusion bursting inside of her.

“I’ve never seen it.”

“Oh.” She knew she had to get out of the car now. “I should go.” She didn’t move.

“Yes. Yes, you should,” he said, even as his hand cupped her cheek.

The space between them suddenly closed to nothing. Their mouths met instantly, hungrily, in a thorough, breath-stealing kiss that inflamed her. His arm came around her, pulling her to him until her breasts were pressed to his chest. Only thin cotton separated flesh from flesh, and it proved to be no barrier at all. His fingers wrapped around her hair. His tongue circled and rubbed
against hers, provoking the maddening sensations to even greater heights.

Warmth trickled along her flesh. She gripped his upper arm, her fingers curling around the corded muscles. It was as if she had anchored herself to him, rooting herself in reality even as she was being swept away. His fingers left her hair to trace a path down her cheek, then down between their bodies until he found her breast.

She moaned as his thumb rubbed across her nipple, fanning the aching heat to a fever pitch. She had wanted him to touch her like this, but the satisfaction soared the wanting to another level. She wanted him, needed him. Now.

She was so hot … unbearably hot … intolerably …

Another kind of reality penetrated. Hilary realized she was in a car, in front of any of her neighbors who cared to see, necking with Devlin. More than necking. Damn near down in the front seat and ready to make the car rock.

She pulled away, panting for breath. With the engine off, the air-conditioning was off, and the heat had built quickly. She was nuts, she thought, horrified that she was kissing a man uncontrollably in broad daylight. And he was touching her, in public. Idiotic … crazy … What had happened to her brain? All her common sense seemed to fly out the window when it came to Devlin Kitteridge.

“Thanks again,” she mumbled, whipping open the car door and scrambling out of the passenger seat. The air outside seemed chilly compared with the heat they’d generated in the car.

She slammed the door shut behind her and half-ran to her front door. She heard his engine start and his car screech out of the parking lot.
She didn’t look back as she fumbled with the door lock. Finally the key went in straight, and she was inside in a flash. She leaned back against the steel door, desperate to barricade herself in, away from that man.

A little voice inside her told her it was too late.

Way too late.

Dev slammed on the brakes right in front of his grandmother’s door. As he strode toward the house, the door opened. His grandmother stood on the threshold.

“I came for lunch,” he said, not breaking his stride.

“Is Hilary okay now?” Lettice asked.

“Yes.”

“Did she slam the door in your face again?”

“No.”

He walked past her into the house. The knick-knacks and the tables in the foyer hadn’t changed from his youth. Even the Ming vase still sat atop the delicate Hepplewhite table, seasonal flowers blooming brightly in contrast to the muted Chinese porcelain. Once he had come joyously to this home, basking in his family’s no-nonsense affection and security. Then he had hated to come, hated to face his memories.

For once, though, the past didn’t come rushing at him, threatening to overwhelm him. In fact it didn’t come at all. His mind was too filled with that kiss.

He was getting in too deep, he thought. Much too deep.

With a woman like Hilary, a man might never surface again.

Seven

He hated dinner parties.

Dev tugged at his restricting collar, the alien tie feeling, as always, like a noose around his neck.

“Stop fidgeting,” his grandmother admonished him as she knocked on the door.

“I’m not fidgeting,” he grumbled, twitching his shoulders against the tight fabric of his suit jacket.

“You look like Salome doing the dance of the seven veils,” Lettice said.

He almost snapped back that she wasn’t all that calm, cool, and collected herself. He’d sensed a new tension in her these past several days, but she had said nothing about Marsh, the boat, or the ride home.

Dev wanted to ask, but decided against it.

The front door opened, and Lettice instantly turned on the Kitteridge charm. She swept inside and kissed the cheeks of the hostess and host. “Margo, Richard. How lovely. You remember my grandson, Devlin? Of course you do, Richard. You were both in school together.”

Dev smiled and shook hands with the tall, fair-haired man. “Last time I saw you, you were skinny and nearsighted.”

Richard chuckled. “And you were trouble.”

“He still is,” Lettice said.

“Thank you for having me,” Dev said to his hostess, shaking her offered hand.

“Oh, no, Devlin. I am just thrilled you chose my little soiree to come out of … retirement.” Margo giggled, clearly overjoyed to have the biggest gossip coup of the year.

Dev just smiled at her and walked on into the room, wishing he hadn’t come and wondering why he had. But he knew the answer, and her name was Hilary. Lettice had mentioned at lunch the other day that she would be here. He’d snatched up the vague offer, trading on his old acquaintance with Richard to get his grandmother to make a major faux pas and ask to bring her own guest. He’d even promised to be on his best behavior.

As he looked around for Hilary, he admitted he should have left things alone, especially after what had happened in his car. Hilary rattled cage doors long shut tight. But he’d no sooner heard her name than he’d leaped right back in.

Now, he told himself, he needed to see her on neutral territory, to explain … something. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to explain, but the urge was riding him too much to be ignored.

The front room was enormous and filled with people. Obviously Richard had done all right for himself. At least he hadn’t lost whatever he’d inherited.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Dev muttered, thinking
of himself. Everyone was dressed formally too. At least he had on a tie.

“What did you say?” Lettice asked.

He shook his head.

“Well, see you behave yourself. I’m trying to get Richard to be a sponsor at the next Villanova Hospital Ball, and I do not want you to blow it for me. Or you will regret it,” she added in an ominously quiet tone.

“Yes, Grandmother. And by the way, there’ll be hell to pay on your end if Hilary doesn’t show up. And I don’t see her.”

“Oh, she’s here, otherwise Margo would be foaming at the mouth. Devlin, dear, there’s something you need to understand—”

“I thought so!” a voice interrupted. “Devlin Kitteridge.”

Dev turned to find another old acquaintance bearing down on him, saying, “I haven’t seen you since that … See, everyone, I told you it wasn’t Miles.”

He gritted his teeth as he was pulled into a large knot of people. After initial greetings the men were blatantly uninterested in him because he no longer had any power in business or in their society. The women were more predatory, and all of them seemed to be clones of his hostess. Maybe he’d walked into a remake of
The Stepford Wives
, he mused. Everyone talked out of squared jaws, and the cultured tones grated on his nerves.

He knew the women were gathering around him only because of his value as gossip. If he had to endure much of this, he’d be a babbling idiot. Where
was
Hilary?

“But I wanted the quail! I asked for the quail! I cannot believe you
didn’t bring it!
”

Margo’s loud, angry voice overrode every conversation in the room. Dev turned and was stunned to see that Hilary was the recipient of Margo’s words. The two women were standing on the threshold of the dining room. Hilary was dressed in a long dark skirt and blouse. Dev noted that the subdued colors did nothing to hide her fabulous curves.

“I am sorry, Margo,” Hilary said, somehow not losing a shred of her poise despite being screamed at. “As I explained to you, the dish presented certain problems—”

“Well, you’ve completely ruined my dinner!” the woman exclaimed. “I certainly don’t think I should be charged when the fault is yours.”

“Of course,” Hilary said, nodding graciously. “I think you will be pleased with the Breaded Rack of Lamb I’ve substituted, however.”

“I doubt that,” the woman snapped. “But I suppose it’ll have to do.”

Hilary tilted her head in acquiescence, then vanished into the dining room. Dev blinked. The incident had happened so fast, he and everyone else were still gaping.

Immediately he strode away from the group surrounding him, heading for Hilary. He hated the way she’d just been treated and the way everyone had looked down on her. He’d discovered long ago that the social niceties were a relative thing. As he passed his hostess, who was smirking in triumph, he muttered, “Get some manners, lady.”

Margo gasped, and satisfaction ran through him. Behind him he heard his grandmother say, “Hilary’s Rack of Lamb is absolutely terrific. She doesn’t make it for everyone, you know. Margo, she
hasn’t ruined your dinner. She’s just
made
it.…”

Dev grinned as he entered the dining room. Lettice was blowing her perspective sponsor without any help from him. It was at moments like this when he actually liked his grandmother. Stopping by the huge dining table to look around, he saw Hilary disappearing through a door at the far end of the room. The door hadn’t yet closed behind her when he caught the handle and stepped into a brightly lit kitchen.

The room was in chaos, with pots, pans, dishes, glasses, chopping boards, and food covering every inch of the counters. Two people he didn’t know seemed to be banging things everywhere, and riding over the top of it all was a steady stream of curses coming from Hilary.

“You are human,” Dev breathed, as she spouted the seven words one couldn’t say on television in rapid-fire succession.

She turned at the sound of his voice, and his eyes widened in amazement. She looked harried and flushed, all the poise momentarily gone.

“What are you doing here, Devlin?” she finally asked, then immediately said, “Go away. The waiters didn’t show up tonight, that stupid excuse for a woman is out there losing me every potential customer in the place and a few old ones, too, I’d wager, besides screwing me out of my fee. Damnit, I told that cheapskate we couldn’t do twenty-six quails in wild-elderberry sauce because her kitchen couldn’t handle it.”

“You could punch Margo’s lights out,” Dev said. “I’ll back you.” He knew Hilary would never do it.

“Miss Manners wouldn’t approve,” she said, confirming
his opinion. “Dev, please go away. I don’t have time to deal with you.”

“Grandmother is talking you up like you’re the best thing since that coffee guy. And if you’re shorthanded, I have two of them.” He held them up. “They’re yours. Just tell me where to put them.”