When Love Calls (13 page)

“Come on,” he said, holding his hand out to her. She looked at it for what seemed like forever, then finally touched him. His hand wrapped securely around hers and guided her through the garage as the door closed behind them.

“How about a quick tour?” he said as soon as they passed through the large mudroom into the great room.

“Oh, okay. Sure, sounds good,” she said nervously, hoping that they wouldn’t end up in his bedroom, then again hoping they would.

The foyer, the living room, the dining room, the downstairs office, the restroom, the conservatory, the small parlor, all exactly as she expected, old and stately, fitting for the centuries-old manor.

The house was lavishly adorned in bold, deep, rich colors with architectural moldings everywhere. The hardwood floor shone, interrupted only by very expensive oriental carpets.

“How old is this house?” she asked as they stood at the conservatory window, looking out across the street to the boats cruising by on the Potomac.

He stood right behind her. “Very old. Some parts are from an old plantation, and the cornerstone is dated to around 1820, but some say the house was here as a wooden structure much earlier.”

“Wow, that is old,” she said.

“It’s been remodeled, refurbished, restored, partially overhauled, additions added and removed over two-dozen times, but the main stone structure still remains.”

“It’s remarkable, all that history, right here.”

“Yeah,” he said, gently placing his hands on her shoulders.

She leaned back into him, feeling the strength of his body behind her. They stood silent a moment, breathing in the comfort of their bodies pressed together. Standing there with Randolph was beginning to feel too good and too comfortable. She stepped away, sensing his hands casually drift down her shoulders, then away.

“Your home is beautiful, Randolph,” she said, walking to the other side of the room to examine more closely a painting over the fireplace.

“Thanks,” Randolph said, watching her move away, “but I had very little to do with it.”

“Really?” she said, turning back to him. “But it suits you so well. It seems to fit your personality perfectly.”

He nodded. “It’s comfortable, I like it. My sister and some very dear friends did it for me while I was away in Africa last year. Before that, this place was a joke. I basically had a sofa, a TV and a bed.”

“It sounds like a typical bachelor pad.”

“Maybe not that bad,” he said.

“Is your sister a professional decorator?”

“No, Juliet is, was a professional ballerina. She’s married and retired now but owns and operates a dance studio and is expecting her first child. Then there is Madison, who’s an art historian and college professor, and Kennedy, who’s a museum curator, and their mother, Taylor Evans, an incredible professional artist.”

“Are they all related to you?”

“Just Juliet. The others have adopted me, so to speak. I don’t have much family left. My mother died young and my father marries every other weekend so I don’t see him much. As a matter of fact, he recently married again. I believe this will make number six.”

“Interesting.”

“And then there’s Hope and Faith, two sisters from New York. They did this room with the flowers and plants with, of course, help from Mamma Lou.”

“Mamma Lou?” she questioned.

“Yeah, Louise Gates—” he began, then was interrupted.

“Louise Gates…Wait, I know her.”

“You know Mamma Lou?” he asked, suddenly skeptical of their meeting after everything he’d heard over the last few months about Louise’s cunning.

“Well, not personally. Actually I don’t know her at all personally, but my grandmother knows her. They were good friends at one time. I remember my dad telling me when we saw her photo in the newspaper.”

“Oh, really? This is the same grandmother with Alzheimer’s?”

“Yes, my maternal grandmother. She raised me when my mother died. I was four and my dad was completely devastated.” She went silent a few seconds and took a deep breath to calm herself down. Talking about that time in her life was still very emotional for her.

“Hey, how about some breakfast?” he offered.

“Yeah, that’s sounds good.”

She followed him back through the foyer, down the hall and into the kitchen. “Wow,” she said as they entered the kitchen, “this is really nice. Not exactly from old George Washington’s time, is it, my brotha?”

“I think not,” he said as he opened the refrigerator and looked inside. “I don’t get called the brotha tag a lot anymore.”

She slid onto a stool at the center island counter. “You’re right. I guess Senator is more appropriate.”

“I thought we were past that. It’s Randolph, remember?” he said, turned to her, then turned back, bending over to see what might be on the lower shelves.

Alyssa watched his long legs column to his tight butt when he bent over and she unconsciously licked her lips. She suddenly remembered touching and squeezing him there, and a flash of heat instantly shot through her. “Why not Randy or Dolph or something?” she asked, hoping to distract herself.

He grimaced. “Dolph! Oh, I hated that name as a kid. Mostly everybody called me Randy when I was growing up. My sister called me Dolph for a time, especially when she wanted to make a point, but then finally everyone settled on Randolph. Most of my close friends back home still call me Randy.”

Still trying to distract herself, Alyssa looked around the ultramodern kitchen. She was surrounded by every high-end gadget imaginable. Chrome, glass and black lacquer were everywhere. “This is really a nice kitchen.”

“It’s comfortable. But I miss my real home.”

“That’s right, California. Tell me about it. I’ve never been there before.”

“You have to go there at least once. It’s amazing,” he said, after grabbing a half dozen sealed containers and placing them all on the counter in front of her.

“What’s all this?”

“Breakfast, or brunch, whichever.”

They started opening lids, finding all kinds of goodies tucked away inside. “Who made all this?” she asked.

“My housekeeper comes by every day and she loves to cook and she loves my kitchen. You wouldn’t believe the food she prepares for me. She knows I usually get home late and seldom do I eat at receptions or events, so she fixes meals for me.” He pulled out two place settings and two glasses. He went back to the refrigerator and held up a water bottle and a soda. She chose the water, so he placed two waters on the counter in front of them.

“This is fantastic. I wish I had someone cook my meals every day. I hate to cook.”

“So you can’t cook, huh?”

“I said that I hate to cook, not that I can’t.”

“You have to cook for me one day,” he said.

She nodded. “We’ll see.”

They scooped out pasta salad, cut slices of roast beef and added spicy horseradish mustard with crackers and cheese. Munching on the countertop, they continued talking about their daily schedules and the differences in their responsibilities. When they finished eating, they covered the leftovers and placed them back in the refrigerator. Helping out, she spotted summer fruits in a small basket.

“How about some fruit for dessert?” she offered.

“Sounds good,” he said, placing the last of the dishes into the dishwasher.

Alyssa pulled out some strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries and different-colored grapes. “These are the biggest berries I’ve ever seen in my life. They look like they’re right out of someone’s garden.”

“They are. My assistant, Kent, has this amazing garden. Actually it’s really like a small farm. He grows just about everything. Fruits, vegetables, herbs. You name it, he grows it. I don’t know what he uses, but the size is always amazing.”

“These are from his garden?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

She took the dish of raspberries and blueberries and went over to the large open sink and turned on the water. He followed with more fruit. They washed the fruit side by side.

“What are they?” she asked, seeing the dark and bright green berries he washed.

“Boysenberries, huckleberries and gooseberries,” he said.

“I don’t think I ever tasted them before.”

“Try them.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on, it’s something new. Here, try this one.” He picked out a plump, nearly black boysenberry and held it near her lips. She opened her mouth and he placed it on her tongue. She bit into the luscious fruit, tasting bittersweet juice. “Umm, it tastes kind of like a raspberry.”

He nodded. “Okay, now try this,” he said, holding a yellowish green ball out to her. She leaned in and took the fruit from him.

She grimaced and shook her head. “Yuck, I don’t like that one at all. It’s way too bitter.”

“Not exactly a great-tasting wine, either.”

“That’s right, you probably know all these berries because of your vineyards.”

“Not all of them, some of them,” he said. “Here, taste this.” He held a huckleberry out for her. She took his hand and guided the small fruit to her lips. As soon as she bit it, juice spilled. He traced his finger over her lips, then licked the juice from his finger.

“Umm, it’s tart but good. What was that?” she said.

“That’s huckleberry,” he told her.

“I like it. Here, you try one,” she said, holding a strawberry out to him. He bit the red berry while staring into her eyes. She watched intently.

“It’s sweet. Here, your turn.” He gave her a raspberry. She gave him a blueberry. He gave her a blackberry. She gave him a huckleberry.

“Umm, taste this,” he said, holding a strawberry out for her. She bit it and sweet juice ran down the side of her mouth. She reached up to stop the juice from dribbling, but he took her hand and licked it. Her heart lurched. Then he licked her lips. She swallowed hard. He kissed her, nudging his tongue into her mouth. She opened up to him and that was all they needed to fall into each other’s arms.

Chapter 9

P
ressed against the sink as the water continued to run, Alyssa could think of nothing else except kissing the man in her arms. Harder and more ardently, they kissed as a power beyond them propelled their desire. The thunderous sound of her heart beating overshadowed even her thoughts. Logic and reason vanished as she surrendered to his kisses and the dizzying feeling of passion poured out of her.

The space between their bodies vanished as his hands caressed and cherished every inch of her. Breathless and hungry, his appetite for her seemed insatiable as he pressed her back against the counter. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice deep and raspy.

“Maybe, umm,” she whispered breathlessly, then stopped. “Maybe, umm, maybe we should, umm…” she began again, but stopped when he stepped back away from her. The sudden startling release stunned her. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, fighting to regain control of his wanton desire.

He nodded. “You’re right,” he said huskily. “I’m sorry, this is too soon, we shouldn’t—”

“That’s not what I was gonna say,” she interrupted, smiling coyly.

“It’s been a while for me, I mean, being with someone. I’m not exactly the tomcat the press makes me out to be.”

“I didn’t think so,” she said, then moved close again and leaned into him. He opened his eyes and looked at her. She reached up and gently traced the soft line of his lips with her finger. The passion in his eyes was unmistakable. “I was gonna say that maybe we should turn the water off. I’m getting splashed and the back of my shirt is soaked.” She smiled. He smiled. She spun around and turned the faucets off.

Randolph saw her saturated cotton shirt. He moved close and reached around the front of her and slowly unbuttoned it. As soon as all the buttons were released, he opened her shirt, removed it, then let his hands caress her soft mounds. She rolled her head back, and his hands continued touching her gently as his lips came down to nibble on her neck and shoulder.

Alyssa moaned, closing her eyes to the sensual sensations, his hardened body behind her and his soft hands in front of her. His palms rounded her breasts; then his fingers tweaked her nipples. She gasped. Then he found the front clasp on her lace bra and released her. The firm weight of her breasts filled his hands and he massaged the fullness as her pebbled nipples begged to be touched.

He obliged, then pressed closer and she felt more of his body hardened. He reached out and grabbed a strawberry from the bowl in the sink, squished it and let the sweet juice drip down onto her chest. Sweet syrup poured everywhere. He touched her shoulder to turn her to face him, then leaned down as soon as she did. His tongue lapped up the fruity essence and his mouth devoured everything else.

She tugged at his shirt, releasing it from his pants, then quickly discarding it over his head and across the room. His arms, shoulders, back and chest were magnificent. Broad and powerful, they were hard and toned obviously from working with weights. He was chiseled to perfection. Her hands drifted lazily over his shoulders and down his arms, then across his chest as he held her tight, gripping her body relentlessly.

She grabbed a berry from the sink and bit into it, and instantly his mouth was on hers. Together they tasted the tart bitterness, then began laughing. The sensual moment had changed to lighthearted humor.

“What was that?” he asked, still chuckling.

“I don’t know, I just grabbed something.” She grimaced. “I think it was the gooseberries,” she said as a generous twinge of embarrassment gripped her. She looked down at her bare breasts, then readjusted her bra and brought it together in front and held it securely without fastening it.

After witnessing her obvious discomfort, he tipped her chin up with his finger and smiled into her eyes. “You are so lovely, Sundari Adia, my beautiful gift from God,” he said, then leaned in and kissed her lips chastely. “I didn’t plan this,” he whispered to her, “and nothing will happen here today between us that we both don’t want to happen.” She didn’t respond. “I can take you back to your car if you’d like.”

Alyssa smiled slyly, then reached over and grabbed a strawberry. She bit into it, then touched the juicy fruit to his bare chest. A drop of red juice fell and inched its way down to the tip of his nipple. Without a second’s hesitation she opened her mouth and licked it away. He moaned and grasped her arms tight, holding her still. His labored breathing stoked the already ignited fire burning inside her. She knew power when she heard it.