"I wear work boots for a living. I'll never be able to walk in these things."
"Please," Tish said, rolling her eyes. "You're a woman. Fake it for one night."
She laid her hands on her hips. "I'll try. And may I say you look ravishing?"
Tish beamed and twirled around in her red ball gown, the color enhancing her dark skin and mocha eyes. "Thanks. I'm glad you spotted this dress. It's so me."
"It's definitely you. Men will drool on you all night."
Tish laughed. "No, honey. Tonight is all about you."
They rode together to the ball, an event hosted in the ballroom of Tulsa's swankiest and most expensive hotel. Despite her initial misgivings, Ella found herself excited to attend tonight, if for no other reason than to get her mind off Clay. She knew Clay wouldn't be there. It was a dining and dancing night and she knew he didn't dance. Nor did he ever attend this ball. Like her, he always sent a nice fat contribution and skipped the festivities.
She intended to drink some wine, schmooze some politicians and bigwigs in the industry. Maybe a few people would take pity and dance with her. She'd have fun.
And not think about men or love or fear or complications.
The ballroom was packed when they got there. Tish disappeared almost immediately, having spotted some friends and rushing off to greet them.
Traitor.
Ella grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and decided to wander the room, see who she knew, then figure out where they were seated, since there seemed to be place cards with everyone's names on them. She greeted a few of her fellow contractors and their wives, people she'd known for years. Some she hadn't seen in a while--not since James had died. So of course she had to stop and answer the obligatory "How are you doing?" questions. She understood people cared, that they hadn't seen her in a long time and wanted to know how she was getting on with her life and her work. Maybe she should stop hiding out so much and attend more social functions in the future. Then she could go back to being thought of as a normal person instead of James's widow.
The ballroom was a glittering mass of tuxes and beautiful gowns. Ella could find a chair and spend the entire evening gawking at the fashion. And the jewelry...Dear God, some of these women definitely had money. Or their husbands did. She felt out of her element adorned only in her mother's pearl earrings, but Tish had told her the dress spoke for itself, that Ella was beautiful and she needed nothing else. Tish had insisted they get their hair done for the occasion, so she sported some kind of updo with a few tendrils swept against her face. So not her, but whatever. She supposed it was okay to play dress up every now and then. She still felt like a sham when she saw the glittering diamonds and expensive furs and even the china laid out on the starched linen tables. Wow.
But she really loved the dress and the fancy shoes, so she decided she was going to enjoy herself tonight and not care what anyone thought. Besides, she was being hypercritical. No one had batted an eyelash the wrong way at her.
It sure would have been a lot easier to send a check, though. She could be home in her pajamas right now watching television and eating something cooked in the microwave, which would be much more comfortable than this lung-squeezing dress.
And where the hell was Tish?
She wound her way through the crowd, examining each table for her name, not yet finding it. She spotted a familiar group, some of the contractors she worked with regularly. Maybe she would be sitting with them. As she approached, the crowd thinned and she caught sight of a tall, dark-haired man with broad shoulders who looked very familiar from behind.
But it couldn't be. He wouldn't come to this. Would he?
He turned, and her breath caught.
Clay. Clay in a tux. Clay looking drop-dead gorgeous in black and white. Her legs began to shake and she didn't think she could take another step. She reached for the chairback next to her and held on for support.
She hadn't expected this, wasn't ready to see him yet. Ever.
What was he doing here? And how dared he look so damn good?
He walked--no, stalked toward her.
"Ella. What are you doing here?"
He looked angry to see her. Why would he be angry? She should be angry.
"I was about to ask you the same question. Why are you here?"
He scanned the room. "There are people here I need to see."
"Same people I need to see, I imagine. That's why I'm here. And Tish made me come."
He narrowed his gaze as he searched the room. "Uh-huh. Where is Tish?"
"No clue. She dumped me as soon as we got here."
"How convenient." He returned his gaze to her, scanning her from toe to head as he had done in Hawaii. She flushed, the cool room suddenly growing warmer. "You look...beautiful."
"Thank you. You look pretty hot in that tux."
His lips lifted. "Thanks. It's uncomfortable as hell."
"So is this dress."
"It looks like someone sewed you into it. Turn around."
She did. She didn't know why, but she did.
"Christ. Is that a...corset?"
"Yes."
"Fuck me," he said in a harsh whisper.
She'd love to. Dammit, no, she wouldn't. They were over. There was nothing between them.
Oh, right. Sure they were. So why had the entire room and her body gone up in flames the second she laid eyes on him?
Chemistry. Physical attraction. She refused to deny that portion of it any longer. Why should she? She'd had ample evidence of it in Hawaii. But that was all it was. It wasn't love. She wouldn't love him.
Couldn't.
"Well, we're here. Together," he finally said.
"Yes."
"How have you been since we got back?"
"Busy."
"Ditto. You bidding on the downtown parking garage?"
"Yes."
"We will, too. I also heard there's going to be a new hotel going up on Seventh Street."
"I heard about that, too. Haven't seen any specs yet."
She hated that they'd been reduced to one-liners about business, that the ease they'd shared with each other that week had dissolved into basic business discussions.
That had been her wish, hadn't it? That they keep things business only?
But this was different. Before, they had been comfortable with each other.
They were seated at the same table together. Tish--the traitor--finally made her appearance and gave her a knowing smile throughout dinner. Ella felt trapped between Clay and Tish. She was mad at Tish, felt set up, and had nothing to say to Clay, who seemed content to spend his time talking to one of the city councilmen seated at their table. When dinner was over, she nearly leaped from her chair.
"Where are you going?" Tish asked.
The entire table looked at her.
She had no idea where she was going.
"Ladies' room," she finally managed, making a beeline out of the ballroom.
She washed her hands and took the opportunity to stare at her reflection in the opulent oversized mirror in the seating area of the restroom. Her face was flushed, pink circles dotting her cheeks. Her entire body was hot. Maybe she was coming down with something.
Yeah...a case of Clay. Of having to sit next to him and not touch him, not kiss him, not laugh with him, not be able to enjoy the easy conversation they'd always had with each other.
Dammit, she missed him. She wanted him back. And she wasn't going to be able to have him.
She sat on one of the chairs and stared at herself in the mirror.
Why couldn't she have him? Why did she have to be so afraid? Everyone died. Not everyone died young. Clay was strong, healthy.
She thought James had been healthy, too.
She laid her head in her hands, fighting back the ache, the memories, the fear.
"Honey, you can't spend the night in here hiding."
Her head snapped up. Tish.
"I'm not hiding."
"Yes, you
are. And you have to stop." Tish crouched down and laid her hand over Ella's. "James is gone. You're still here. You have to start living again."
"I have been. I've built our company up. I've gotten up every day and worked day and night. I haven't laid around and felt sorry for myself once."
"I know. But that's work. That's distraction. That's not living. You have a chance to love someone and you're putting up any barrier you can to keep it from happening."
She started to argue, wanted to put the blame on Clay, but she knew it would be a lie. "You're right."
"So what are you going to do about it?"
Just the thought of going out there and facing him, of telling him how she felt, made her stomach clench, made her feel sick. But she had to try. "I don't really know, Tish. I guess not hiding in the bathroom would be a good start."
The tables were cleared and the room darkened by the time she had fixed her lipstick and made her way back to the ballroom. The band was playing and couples twirled together out on the sizeable dance floor. She wound her way around people milling about. Her table was empty. Everyone must be involved in conversation or dancing. She laid her bag on the table and stared out at the couples on the floor, the overhead lights shining down on them.
"Dance with me."
She pivoted and arched her brow at Clay.
"You don't dance."
"I do now." He held out his hand.
This she had to see. She slipped her hand in his and he led her to the floor. Something slow was playing, a romantic song that filled her heart with longing, especially when Clay pulled her close, laid his palm against her back and started moving her to the strains of the music.
It didn't take her long to realize he'd lied to her.
"You can dance."
He shrugged. "Maybe a little."
"You lied."
"It's not my favorite thing to do. So I just say that I can't."
"And you're making the ultimate sacrifice for me because...?"
"Because I want to hold you. Because I miss you."
Her stomach clenched. "You can have sex with anybody, Clay."
"I don't want to have sex with anyone else anymore, Ella. I want to have sex with you. Just you. Only you. Forever and ever. For as long as we both shall live."
Her heart stuttered. "What?"
"I love you."
She stumbled a step and Clay's firm grip held her upright. She knew she gaped at him, at a loss for words.
"I know this isn't what you want, that you wanted no strings, someone to give you a good time in Hawaii and nothing else. I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I'm wound around you tight, just like this thing you're wearing." He tugged on the strings of her corset. "I want strings, Ella. I want to be tied to you."
Now she really couldn't breathe. "Take me out of here."
He gave a sharp nod, swept by the table so she could grab her purse, and led her out a side door where his car was parked. She slid into the passenger side, her mind awhirl in everything he'd said.
He loved her. He'd damn near proposed to her. Right there on the dance floor.
Hadn't he?
"Where do you want to go?"
"My house."
They drove in silence. Ella spent the entire time staring down at her tightly clasped hands, more unsure of herself and her feelings than ever before. When they got to her house she fumbled in her purse for her keys and ended up having to hand them over to Clay. He opened her door and she stepped in, turned on the lamp next to the door, bathing the room in soft light. She laid her purse down and he helped her out of her coat.
"Would you like something to drink?"
He shook his head. "No. I want you to talk to me."
She moved into the living room, sat on the sofa. Clay followed and picked up her hands.
"Your hands are cold. You're pale. I never thought a declaration of love would make a woman sick."
She managed a laugh. "I'm not sick. Just...shocked, I guess. Here I thought I'd be the one doing all the talking and you beat me to the punch."
His brow furrowed. "I don't understand."
She half turned to face him. "Ever since James died I've poured myself into work, into showing everyone how strong I was, how I was able to cope and take care of myself. But the one thing I wouldn't allow was the possibility of loving anyone ever again. Because losing him hurt me so much, Clay."
"I know."
"And then came you. And Hawaii. Probably even before that, actually, because being around you was so easy, so natural. And Hawaii proved that. I thought I could keep it physical and fun and be done with it. But I couldn't. Because you had already been in my heart even before we had that week together, only I didn't know it then. I didn't know it until after I set down those rules about no strings. I realized after Hawaii that I was in love with you."
He smiled.
"And it thrilled me and it scared me. It mostly scared me."
He nodded. "I know that feeling."
"I love you, Clay. I loved you even before Hawaii. You've been there for me since James died. You were my friend before you were my lover, and that's more important to me than anything. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you. And I think I was afraid most of all of losing you."
He rubbed her hands. "I'm not going anywhere, Ella."
"I know. At least I think I know. But I'm still afraid of losing you. Either you leaving or not really wanting what I want. Or of you dying."
He gave her a slight smile. "There are no guarantees. You know that. I won't sit here and promise you I'll live forever. I can't. But I can promise you that I'll love you for as long as I live. For as long as that is."
And that would have to be good enough. Because he was right. He couldn't guarantee forty years, or fifty years, or even ten years. None of them knew how long they had. She of all people knew you had to take each moment and live it as if there would be no tomorrow. "I've been afraid to live. And I've missed out on so much. I don't want to miss out anymore. I want to love you. I want you to love me."
His eyes were as clear as the ocean. She'd always loved his eyes. Now even more so, because she saw what he felt for her.
"I do love you, Ella. I promise to always love you. It's all I can give you."
"It's enough. God, it's more than enough." She moved onto his lap and wrapped her hands around his face. She pressed her lips to his, sighing against his mouth. It felt so good to touch him again.
Clay curled his arms around her and leaned back into the couch to bring her closer against him. She loved feeling his strength pressed against her, his heart beating against her arm as he bent down to deepen his kiss.
She'd never tire of him kissing her, of the sensation of being lost in his taste, the way his mouth moved over hers with deliberate intent, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her. She melted from the inside out, and when he moved his hand over her belly and laid it against her hip, she felt the burn there. Yeah, she had it bad for Clay, but it was so much more than physical.
Now that she'd let her fear go, she could touch him with her heart, and it was so much better than just being physical with him. She poured herself into kissing him, into roaming his chest with her hands. And suddenly there were too many clothes between them, and her corset was too constricting.
He sat her on the sofa and stood, shrugging out of his jacket and tie, then began to unbutton his shirt. She watched as he took off his shirt, kicked off his shoes and then let his pants drop, leaving him wearing only boxer briefs--briefs that outlined his erection. She leaned forward and laid her hands on his hips, then tilted her head back to see him looking down on her.
She grasped the briefs and pulled them down his legs, letting them drop to his ankles. He stepped out of them, but didn't move. His cock was right there--at her face--and she reached out with her tongue to lap at the soft-crested head.
Clay hissed at the contact. Ella's body fused with heat and desire. She dropped to her knees.
"Y
our dress--"
"I can't wait." She wrapped her hands around him, cupping the globes of his fine ass as she brought his cock to her mouth once again. She rolled her tongue around the tip of his cock, then brought him inside, covering his shaft with her mouth.
"Ella," he whispered, his hand coming down to rest in her hair. He pulled out pins and tangled his fingers in her hair while she sucked him, licked him, cradled his ball sac in her hands. She loved the feel of him, the taste of him, the way he responded when she loved him with her mouth.
She took his shaft at the base and guided him deep in her mouth, swallowing, squeezing the head of his cock until he groaned and pulled away.
"Enough. I want to come inside you."
He lifted her, took her mouth in a hard kiss, his tongue diving in and rasping against hers with demand, with need. By the time he broke the kiss she was panting, wet, aroused past the point of reason.
"Fuck me."
He removed the last of the pins from her hair, his gaze so intense it brought tears to her eyes.
"I've never loved anyone before, Ella," he said, nipping her bottom lip as he said it. He wound one arm behind her and pulled at the corset strings. "But I want to be tied to you. Marry me."
She stilled. Of all the places she'd ever imagined she'd be proposed to, him naked, her fully clothed, in the middle of making love, she'd never imagined. And yet it was perfect in its imperfection. It was so Clay. She cupped his face with her hands and smiled, laughed, nodded. "Yes. I love you. I'll marry you. Now make love to me."
He turned her around and they both laughed while he fumbled untying her corset.
"Damn thing. I could get my knife and cut it," he muttered.
"Don't you dare. I got proposed to in this dress. It's special."
He unzipped the skirt of her dress and let it fall to the floor, then laid his mouth on the side of her neck, murmuring to her. "Leave the corset on. I'll fuck you in it."
She sucked in a huge breath as she stepped out of the skirt and turned to him clad only in the corset, black silk panties and her stiletto heels.
His brows raised. "Now, that...that is a sight to behold."
He lifted her and carried her to her bedroom, laid her down on her bed and slipped off her shoes, kissed her toes, her calves and her thighs as he mapped his way up her body with his mouth. When he reached her sex, he pressed his mouth to her pussy, exhaling against her. His warm breath against the satin nearly sent her over the edge.