Three Marie Ferrarella Romances Box Set One (46 page)

“We’ll take it,” Blaise said, looking at the salesperson who was hovering.

The elderly, refined-looking woman smiled serenely as she nodded her approval.

Neither she nor Blaise was present when Pat came back out with the dress resting prettily on a hanger. Pat glanced around and saw Blaise by the lingerie counter, paying for an item. He spotted her looking at him, then picked up the round, aqua gift box that contained his purchase and came over to her.

“Anything else you want?” he asked.

She shook her head, wondering for whom he had made the purchase. Was there a special girl friend lurking somewhere in his life? An extra-special woman who could put up with his consorting with so many women? She would have to be made of tough mettle, Pat thought, as Blaise helped her back on with her coat.

They spent another hour shopping, then Blaise took her back to the hotel. Was he in a hurry to get on with his tryst before he met someone else here? she pondered all the way back in the cab. After all, he was no stranger to this city, and, like a sailor, he probably had a girl in every port.

Or under every rock, she thought cynically, then reproached herself. She was here on business. Hadn’t she backed away from his offer of love this afternoon? Wasn’t she afraid of being bedded by him tonight? Afraid, because her attachment would only grow. Well, what did she want? To have him and not to have him?

What she wanted, Pat realized, was to have the Eagle’s responsibility stripped from her—never to have had the Eagle exist in the first place—and to enjoy this time between them. But if not for the Eagle, Blaise would never have “ridden in to her rescue” in the first place, she reminded herself. It was a dilemma no matter which way she approached it.

“Hurry and change,” Blaise said as they walked back into the suite at the hotel.

“Why?”

“I’ve never met such a suspicious woman,” he said with a laugh. “And you look so easygoing, too.”

“Nature’s way of compensating,” she said flippantly, still waiting for an answer. She watched him put down the round gift box almost carelessly as he handed her the new cocktail dress, which he had insisted on paying for.

“We’re going to the theater,” he said.

“The theater? When did you have time to—?”

“Arrangements all made well in advance. I leave nothing to chance,” he said.

“Then you knew the Prime Minister wouldn’t see us today,” she accused.

“No, I didn’t know that,” he denied, sounding surprised at her suggestion. “But I didn’t think he’d hold us prisoner at Parliament Hill at night, either. And I thought you needed a little public diversion,” he said, brushing a curl that fell into her face. “I’ll provide the private diversion later,” he promised.

She cocked her head. “Think so?”

His smile was mysterious. “I thought I understood women, but some of the time, Lady Pat, I’m not quite sure I know what you’re driving at.” He paused, then his eyes took on a boyish gleam. “Well?”

“Well what?” she asked guardedly, still holding the package in her hands.

“Do you change into that, or do I do it for you?” he suggested, already taking the package from her.

Her eyes darted toward the open door of the bedroom, then back at Blaise. “Do I get my privacy?” she asked.

“More than you really want,” he said.

She walked off quickly, annoyance evident in her gait. Why did he have to be so smug and self-confident? Couldn’t he leave her with a little bit of pride and dignity? He had said no games, but he could at least let her hide her longing for him behind a facade. His confidence made her angry. Slipping into the soft new dress, she resolved to keep Blaise at bay. There was no putting him in his place, since she hadn’t the vaguest notion where his place was. She had a strong hunch that even Mother Rose would have played into his hands if she was assured that no one would know. Even ice water turned to hot blood in the veins of any woman who was around Blaise Hamilton.

After brushing her hair carefully, Pat put in two decorative clips to keep the honey-brown mane off her face, then picked up the clutch purse that Blaise had bought for her, and walked out a proud but nervous warrior, sorely underarmed.

Chapter Nine

The cab dropped them off in front of one of the National Arts Centre’s three theaters as the evening air became more brisk and made Pat long for home. New Mexico’s winters were cold too, but she was unaccustomed to the dampness, and it chilled her to the bone.

“They’re playing Star Bright,” Blaise said before she had an opportunity to look at the marquee. Actually, the wind had gotten so blustery that Pat didn’t even want to look up, only get inside as quickly as possible.

Pat looked surprised at his declaration. “The play that just left Broadway?” she asked, waiting for a moment to let the warmth of the theater seep in while she stood on the rich, red carpet in the lobby.

Blaise nodded, pulling off his camel-colored gloves as he fished in his breast pocket for the tickets to hand to the usher. “A lot of touring companies pass through here,” he said. “I thought you might like to see a musical again.”

Again. He knew she liked musicals. They were her favorite form of play and she hadn’t seen one since, oh, six months before Roger had died. She had gone with Sara. The last bit of mother-daughter fun they had shared before the flare-up, Pat thought with a pang.

Her brown eyes looked up into Blaise’s rugged face, which now looked tender and solicitous. “Ready?” he asked. “The curtain’s about to go up.”

She nodded, and for the next two hours everything melted away into songs and laughter. It felt wonderful.

“You should do things like that more often,” Blaise said over his drink at the Faces nightclub.

Despite the din, it felt very intimate right now. Must be the drink, Pat thought. He should have taken her to dinner first, then a drink, she thought, feeling a bit fuzzy.

“I haven’t the time,” she said vaguely, although in her mind she agreed with him.

“You should take the time to enjoy life,” he said. “It doesn’t wait for you to catch up. A year and a half is a long time to stay away from the theater when you enjoy it so much.”

Pat put down her drink and tried to focus on his eyes in the dim light. “I’m beginning to think you’ve had a little man stashed under my bed, watching my every move.”

He laughed and she heard every delicious note despite the wall of noise around them. “If I had, it would have been me and I wouldn’t have been under your bed, I would have been in it,” he said, his eyes caressing her, sliding down slowly from her face to her rounded cleavage, which strained against the chiffon.

Pat cast her eyes down. “Yes, well—Blaise, about the sleeping arrangements—“ she began almost nervously, her mind annoyed with her wavering attitude. Either accept it like an adult, or tell him no like an adult. Why hem and haw like a bewildered schoolgirl?

Blaise put his finger to her lips. “Shh. Things have a way of working themselves out,” he said. “C’mon, it’s time to feed you,” he said with a gentle laugh, and she found herself on her feet, being cocooned in her ermine coat and almost carried out into the cold night.

Snowflakes were beginning to fall again.

Half an hour later, she was in his arms, dancing to dreamy music provided by a large orchestra at the Canadian Grill. She felt as if she could be molded against his body forever, floating along, being taken care of. . . . No, that’s not what she wanted anymore. She was finally master of her own destiny. But her will ran into a lot of opposition provided by the wine and by the wonderful, seductive atmosphere of the club.

Pat barely remembered eating, although the fare was delicious, her faraway taste buds told her. The lobster was perfect, and Blaise had made some sort of smiling remark about not thinking he was overstepping his boundaries by cracking it for her and making dinner a little less messy.

When the waitress provided the bib that went with the lobster dinner, Blaise had risen to tie it around Pat’s neck, somehow managing to touch her throat, his sure fingers gliding down on the pretext of straightening out the bib. An overwhelming ache sprang up within her, yearning for his touch to go on.

And he sensed it. She could see by the light in his eyes that he knew. And she was helpless to change anything.

“Why are you trying to get me drunk?” she asked, for a bottle of champagne had been left at their table and Blaise made sure that her glass was never empty.

“I’m trying to make sure you relax,” he said lightly.

“If I was any more relaxed,” she murmured, “my bones would be liquid.”

He laughed and Pat smiled at her own words, but then Blaise shook his head. “No, Lady Pat, you’re still watching me, expecting me to pounce on you, expecting—I’m not sure what.”

“You’re imagining things,” she replied, averting her face. Was she that transparent? Well, the C.I.A. would never call on her to do their counterintelligence work, she thought.

“I hope so,” he said, putting his finger under her chin and bringing her eyes back to meet his. “Would you like to go upstairs now?” he asked.

No, no. Let’s stay here, she thought she said in panic. But her lips weren’t moving. Instead, her legs were. Somehow, she was walking in front of him, going toward the elevator, then toward the door of their room. Their room. It was going to happen again. One more time paradise would open up to her. There was no Prime Minister.
 
No government contract. No loan. No, think about it later. Later. Right now, he wants you, her mind echoed almost outside of her brain as the carpet moved beneath her feet, bringing her ever closer to the bedroom.

Blaise’s strong hands seemed to burn through the airy chiffon around her arms, caressing her, pulling her soul out to meet him. He turned her around to face him and removed the clips from her hair, then ran his fingers through the silky mane.

Pat wondered if he felt her tremble beneath his touch and realized that of course he did. He was well versed in this sort of thing, knowing just which button to press to cause a woman to fall helplessly into his arms. And she was no different, no different at all, she thought with despair— and with mounting desire.

He brought his lips to her neck, leaving a gentle trail of kisses from there to her low decolletage.

Pat put her arms around his neck and felt herself raised off the floor with a gesture so effortless that it seemed as if she weighed nothing at all. Her clothes seemed to melt away magically.

Suddenly, the bed was beneath her and he was above her, once again transporting her to another galaxy. She was insatiably hungry for the heady, wonderful world that only Blaise could give her. Her emotions swept her away, and she clung to Blaise, kissing him back over and over again. Material slid away from his body. They were swaddled then only in an overpowering need to love and be loved.

Heat was everywhere as Blaise took her, first fiercely, and later gently, feeding every need she had ever experienced. He cherished her and devoured her passion, mingling it with his own.

To be born sensually at forty was a nerve-shattering experience that had no equal, no name. A flood of gratitude filled Pat’s heart as she realized her discovery was something that was absent from many women’s lives. Before Blaise, she had not known the euphoria of surrendering to love. She was free from conscious thought, rejoicing on a plane closer to heaven than to earth.

Pat opened her eyes, her head resting against Blaise’s shoulder, her heart beating madly against his hard chest. She felt no embarrassment at her nudity or his.

“Is this the end of my evening’s entertainment?” she heard herself ask in a voice that strived to be light. Mustn’t let him know how deeply she cared, how much she craved him.

The smile on Blaise’s face made him look like the most charming devil anyone could have fashioned with an artist’s brush, she thought.

“If you’re up to it, Patti, this is only the beginning of your evening—your long evening,” he whispered into her hair as his fingers caressed the length of her body possessively, gently playing with the inside of her thigh, arousing her once again. Arousing himself again, she thought as she felt the hard contours of his body yearn for her once more.

Pat turned to him. “You’re incredible,” she said with a great deal of affection.

“What have I been telling you all along?” He pulled himself up on his elbow and looked down into her face. “I intend to be the most incredible man in your life. I should have been that a long, long time ago,” he murmured as his lips parted hers, seeking, discovering; and Pat felt the heat of his rugged body grow and grow, enveloping her in its passion.

She clung to him and the fragments of his words as she felt his weight shift and roll onto her. Ecstasy beckoned once again and everything was set on fire—everything but his words, which managed to resound over and over again in her brain. Did it mean he actually cared? Or was that just for the benefit of the moment? She shouldn’t take the chance. . . .

Within moments, none of this mattered at all.

Pat watched him reach out for her as she stood at the foot of the bed, dressed and ready to meet the Prime Minister. She had tried to reach Sam earlier that morning, but there was no one to take her call, which confirmed her suspicions that all was definitely not well—that, plus the fact that the Prime Minister mysteriously could not meet with them.

Perhaps Blaise had misrepresented the Canadian government’s interest in the Eagle so that he could enjoy a brief fling with her here. Though he had already been fantastically helpful to her in generating funds, he had treated the project casually on several occasions, seeming not to understand the importance of her commitment.

But seeing Blaise sleeping there, in the bed they had shared last night, made her soul beg for a sign with which to believe in him. He looked totally guileless, lying there like that, only a small piece of the blue sheet covering his maleness. She felt herself becoming aroused again.

What was happening to her? Love was not supposed to be the most important part of her life anymore.