Wonderful You (21 page)

“Hello, Duchess. I’m glad you finally made it.” Nick hugged his sister and placed a kiss on her forehead, then stepped back to look at her. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Nicky.”

“Pretty,” Ben had managed to make his feet move those few steps forward and stood in front of her feeling awkward and gawky and somehow the two syllables had found their way out of his mouth. He touched the flowers in her hair, wishing he could think of something besides that one word.
Pretty. I sound like Tarzan. Or Frankenstein.

Zoey smiled. “Actually, I should be thanking you for them.”

He looked puzzled, so she added, “They were in the bouquet you gave me last week. I dried them.”

Feeling very pleased but not quite sure why, Ben merely nodded, still having difficulties in making his tongue understand that one of its primary functions was speech. He wasn’t certain, but thought it might have something to do with the loud buzzing between his ears, which had seemed to begin the second he walked into the room and saw Zoey.

India laughed and tugged Nick’s arm. “Let’s get a drink. Then you can introduce me to that crowd over there in the corner.”

Nick glanced behind him. “That’s my mother’s agent and her editor.”

“Well, their conversation is obviously far too deep for this occasion. Introduce me and let’s see if we can lighten them up a little.”

Zoey turned to Ben and was about to say something when a waiter passed by with a tray of fluted glasses glistening with champagne.

“Would you like a glass? Ben asked.

“Actually, I think I would rather have a glass of Chablis.”

Her smile having nearly knocked him out, Ben grabbed Zoey’s elbow
and headed in the general direc
tion of the bar. At least he hoped that’s where he was going. He’d been so dazzled that, for a moment, he almost felt the urge to blink, like one whose eyes had stared into the sun and needed time to adjust to normal light. He managed somehow to find the bar, order two drinks, and pass hers along to her without spilling either.

“So, I see you and Nicky had a few minutes to talk together,” she said to break the silence. “How was it?”

“How was what?”

“Seeing Nicky after all these years.”

“Oh. Great. Wonderful. Nick is one of those people who never changes, you know? He seems to be the same good guy I knew when I was fourteen.”

“He is. The same, I mean. And you will adore India when you get to know her. She is just wonderful.”

“Now, tell me who the older woman is? The one with your mother.”

“That’s India’s Aunt August. She raised India and her brother after their mother died.”

“And the little girl?” He asked as Corri blew in one door and out the next.

“That’s Corri Devlin. India’s older brother, Ry, had been married briefly to Corri’s mother, and had adopted her. When Ry died, India became Corri’s guardian, and started the proceedings to adopt her.”

“What happened to the child’s mother?”

“That is a long story,” Zoey remarked, not wanting to waste precious moments talking about Maris Devlin, India’s former sister-in-law and persona non grata in the Devlin household. “But we all adore Corri. My mother positively dotes on her.”

“Your mother positively dotes on everyone, it seems.”

“That is an understatement.” Zoey sipped at her drink and waved to one of her mother’s neighbors who had just arrived. “She mentioned that she offered to let you move into the old carriage house.”

“She did.”

They had gravitated through the French doors leading out to the small back porch that overlooked the pond.

“And you said
…
” Zoey leaned back against the porch railing and crossed her legs, leaving one to dangle from the knee of the other, her skirt hiked halfway up her calf.

“That I’d think about it.” He licked his lips to moisten them, as they seemed suddenly almost too dry for speech.

“Are you?”

“I’m trying to.”
Trying to think about anything except what you’re probably not wearing under that dress.

“Trying
to think about it?” She asked, aware of his plight and pleased by it.

“I have a lot on my mind right now,” he mumbled, not daring to permit his eyes to drop lower than her chin.

“Oh, I imagine you do.” She smiled sweetly. “New job, new home—and I’ll bet you miss racing.”

“I do,” he nodded, trying to snap out of it.

“What’s the fastest speed you ever drove?” she asked.

“A little over two hundred miles per hour. Thereabouts.”

“Really? What did it feel like?”

“It feels like nothing else. Nothing.”

“Hmmm.” She traced the rim of her glass with the tip of her index finger. “What do you miss most?”

“That feeling of being on the edge,” he answered without hesitation.

“You mean, of danger?”

“That, and of life. You know how very much alive you are when you are most aware of how little it would take to end it. And when you are rounding a curve at top speed, there is no question in your mind just how little it would take to send you hurtling into the next dimension.”

“A sharp turn of the wheel?”

He shook his head. “Not even. A small twist of the wrist is often all it might take.”

“You really would have to have a lot of control to keep yourself on the road.”

He nodded, wondering if he should mention that he was, at that moment, exercising as much self-control in keeping his hands to himself, as ever he had in a race, but decided to let it go.

From the big solarium, where an artificial floor had been placed over the pool to permit dancing, soft music flowed as the band resumed their play. Ben reached into one of the nearby floral arrangements and snapped an orchid off its stem. He presented it to her and asked, “Would you like to dance?”

Zoey slid off the porch rail, her heart pounding in her chest, and rested her arms around his neck. His hands encircled her waist and drew her body close to his. They swayed slowly as the music surrounded them. He hummed in her ear and the skin on the side of her face nearest his mouth prickled with the closeness of him. She twirled the orchid between her thumb and her forefinger to focus on something besides the tension that was building inside her. Ben glanced down and studied her apparent fascination with the flower.

“If I had taken you to your prom, I would have brought you a corsage,” he told her. “Probably a white orchid. It suits you.”

“You said that about my name, the first time I met you.” She reminded him.

“It suited you then, and it suits you now. It’s different.
Exotic. Sensual. I just didn’t know those words back then.”

She ran the orchid petals along her bottom lip, still looking into his eyes.
If he doesn't kiss me—right now—I think
I'll…
I’ll
…
I’ll
…

It didn’t matter that she couldn’t think of an
or else,
because at that moment he touched the side of her mouth with his, then brushed his lips slowly, agonizingly slowly across hers. She turned her face completely up to his, and tugged slightly at his neck to urge him closer. Her lips parted slightly as he kissed her, tentatively, then deeper, deeper still, until she thought she’d pass out from the sheer delight of the sensation that spread through her. She pressed herself into him and his arms slid down her bare back, sending waves of shivers from her neck to her ankles.

“Careful, Zoey,” he whispered. “I’m not feeling very big brotherly right now.”

“Thank God,” she sighed, and pulled his mouth back to hers.

Oblivious to everything else, she backed toward the porch railing and danced him around slowly, still kissing him, as she eased him against the rail and leaned into his embrace. She fought the sudden urge to rip his shirt off, to run her hands down his chest, touch his bare skin, and
…

“Zoey?” Georgia’s voice called from the hallway.

“Zoey, someone is calling you.” He disengaged his mouth from hers.

“It’s my sister,” Zoey grumbled. “Her timing has always been lousy.”

“Actually,” he whispered, “her timing couldn’t have been better. A few more minutes alone out here with you, under the moonlight, and I would not have been responsible for the consequences.”

“Zoe?”

Zoey sighed and called, “Out here, Georgia.”

“Oh, there you are.” Georgia stepped outside and stopped at the sight of her sister, with her flushed face
and swollen lips, and was to
rn
between being embarrassed at having interrupted an intimate moment, and wanting to see who it was who had her sister all but panting. Not that it was her business.

Which of course did not stop her from continuing across the porch deck to hug Zoey and see what she could see.

Zoey returned her sister’s affectionate greeting. “Georgia, you remember Ben Pierce.”

“Ben? I heard you were back!” Georgia reached behind Zoey pointedly to offer Ben her hand.

“Little Georgia!” he exclaimed. “I can’t believe it. Look at you.”

Georgia grinned. “All grown up now, Ben.”

“I’ll say you are. You look wonderful.”

“So. Did you just arrive?” Zoey asked her sister.

“A while ago. I was schmoozing with the guests.” Georgia made herself comfortable on the railing next to Ben as if oblivious to the current that ran between the couple on the porch. “Nicky tells me you’ve been racing cars in Europe. How exciting. I want to hear all about it.”

“And one of these days, you shall. Now, don’t you think you should see if Mom needs any help?”

“Help doing what?” Georgia pretended not to understand.

“With whatever it is she is doing.”

Georgia dismissed Zoey’s concern aside with a wave of her hand and a perfectly innocent straight face.

“Mom is fine. Isn’t it a lovely night? Look at the pond, the moon is reflected so totally perfectly in the water.”

“It was perfect up until about sixty seconds ago,” Zoey hissed.

Unable to contain herself, Georgia tilted her head back and laughed.

“Actually, August sent me to find you. Mother is going to make the formal announcement of Nick and India’s engagement now, and wanted you both to be there.”

“Oh. Of course.” Zoey nodded with little enthusiasm.

Georgia grinned and said, “Can I tell Mom three minutes?”

“Better make it five.”

“But no more than five, okay? I think there were some guests who were preparing to leave and Mom convinced them to wait just a few for the toast.”

“We’ll be right in,” Zoey told her, all but shooing her sister toward the door.

“Georgia looks terrific,” he said.

“Yes. She does.”

“And she’s right about the moonlight there on the pond,” he continued, drawing her back to him inch by inch. “It’s almost magical, don’t you think
? A moon that big and bright…”

“Ummm. Magical.” She permitted herself to be encircled in his arms and nuzzled the side of his neck, catching the trace of aftershave that hinted of musk, then toyed with his bottom lip, just to give him something to think about later, after the party when he was back at his grandfather’s condo. “Peter Pan.”

“What?”

“My father used to call it a ‘Peter Pan’ moon.”

He held her at arm’s length for a second, then said, “I’ve never heard you—or Georgia, for that matter, mention your father. Nick used to talk about him, but I don’t recall that you ever did.”

“He’s not been a factor in our lives. You know that he left us and closed the door a long time ago,
Ben. Right after Georgia was born
. She has no recollection of him at all. My memories are very sketchy. Being the oldest, Nick would remember him the best. We just don’t have much reason to talk about him anymore.”

“Do you ever wonder where he is? If he’s alive?”

Zoey shrugged noncommittally. “Not really. Other than to wonder why he walked out on my mother and his three children and just never looked back.”

“Do you know for a fact that he never did?”

“What? Look back?” She shook her head. “He remarried eighteen years ago. He has another family. We don’t exist as far as he is concerned.”

“It’s a very strange thing, don’t you think?” He ran his hands slowly up and down her arms as if to warm them in the cool spring air, an almost unconscious yet familiar gesture. “Why
he left, why he cut all ties…”

“I used to think it was because of something that I had done,” she whispered into his chest, as if afraid to face him with the admission. “Then, a few years ago, Georgia said she thought it was because of her. That since he left so soon after her birth, it must have been because of her. Nicky, however, was convinced that somehow it had been his fault.”

“Funny, isn’t it, that as children, we think we have this huge power, that everything that happens is somehow a result of something we had done or thought. That somehow we were responsible, even though we rarely ever are.”