Let It Snow... Page 8

  “Good morning, Claire,” he said, that throaty voice almost purring. “Did you sleep well?”

  Thinking of the night’s sleep she had—of the erotic dreams he’d inspired and the way she’d been shaken awake from one of them by a powerful orgasm—she felt color flood into her cheeks.

  “Oh. I see you did,” he said, a small smile playing on that sensuous mouth she had grown to adore.

  “Yes. And you?”

  “Not really,” he admitted.

  Her stomach lurched. Had she been the only one affected by the incredible intimacies they’d shared? “No?”

  “I could think only about the coming of morning, when the sundry store around the corner would open for business.”

  Not understanding, she tipped her head in confusion.

  Philip lifted his hand to show her the small plastic bag he was carrying. She peered at it, able to just make out the lettering on the small box within.

  “That’s... Oh,” she whispered, her legs suddenly wobbly as she realized he’d gone out first thing this morning to buy a box of condoms.

  “You approve?”

  She nodded vehemently. “I most definitely approve.”

  He appeared relieved. Good grief, had he really been wondering if she’d had second thoughts? If, after having that amazing mouth and those remarkable hands bring her to the height of pleasure, she would possibly not want more? Only an insane woman—or one without a hint of estrogen—could have been pressed up against that hot, sexy male body, could have seen that massive, proud erection, could have tasted the heat of him, and not wanted more.

  Philip cast another glance around the shop, as if to make sure no one else was there, and strode toward her. Wrapping his arms around her, he hauled her against him for a deep, hungry good-morning kiss. His body was so big, broad and warm, his kiss so devouring and demanding, she couldn’t help but melt against him, kissing him back with every ounce of passion he’d aroused in her the night before. Both during their amazing kitchen interlude and in her dreams.

  “I thought about you all night long,” he admitted.

  “Ditto.”

  He raised a curious brow.

  “I mean, me, too,” she explained, liking the way he sometimes didn’t understand her way of speaking. He was old-fashioned in some respects, almost otherworldly at times. She liked that about him. Hell, she liked everything about him. Every damn thing, from the way he looked to the way he talked to the sound of his husky laugh, to the light in his eyes, to his brainy conversation, to the way he used his mouth...everywhere.

  He intoxicated her. Aroused her. Thrilled her.

  She was falling for this man, hard and fast. And somehow, the logical, care-taking Claire, who should have already put on the brakes, since she had little time or room in her life for a relationship, was keeping her big fat mouth shut. The Claire who sometimes dreamed of more, who fantasized about true love and happily-ever-after, was strictly in charge.

  “So when’s closing time?”

  A gurgle of laughter rose in her throat as she heard the boyish anticipation in his tone. She suspected that box of condoms would be burning a hole through the bag, from all the heated thoughts sent its way.

  “I usually stay open later on Wednesday evenings, so not until eight.”

  “Your assistant—is she working today?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And the lady who is helping with the cooking?”

  “Yes, Mrs. West will be in, too. She’s fantastic.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said with a satisfied smile, as if he’d personally selected the woman for the job. “So can you, perhaps, leave a little early?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy already, I honestly doubt it.”

  “Hmm... What if I got someone else to help man the store?”

  “Your mastodon in the china shop? I don’t think so.”

  “No, not Teeny. I mean Shelby.”

  Remembering the slightly snooty guy who’d been flirting with Jeannie the day before, Claire scrunched her brow. “I doubt he’d—”

  “Oh, he’d love to,” Philip insisted with a nod. “He was just telling me this morning how much he’d love to learn more about business. And about candy. About the candy business.”

  That didn’t sound like the man she’d met. “Seriously?”

  “Indeed. He’s quite anxious to learn. You would be doing him a favor by allowing him to be your employee’s assistant tonight. And then you could leave early and come with me.”

  Claire wrapped her arms around Philip’s neck and smiled up at him. “Where? All the way back to my bedroom?”

  “No,” he said, dropping his hands to her hips and stroking gently. “I have arranged a surprise for us.”

  Ooh, that sounded interesting. And very tempting.

  “Well, if it’s just for an hour or so, I suppose I could—”

  “Excellent. It’s settled. I will meet you here at six o’clock.” He kissed her forehead. “Dress up.”

  There was that bossy tone again.

  “Are you sure you can afford for us to go somewhere that requires ‘dressing up’?” In New York, dinner at a fancy restaurant could cost a lot of money, and on his visiting student income, she didn’t want him to overextend himself.

  “I wasn’t entirely forthcoming with you about my finances,” he admitted. “I’m perhaps not quite as poor as I let on.”

  She’d suspected as much, given the way he dressed and his confident manner. “So why did you say you were?”

  “Because I wanted to stay here, in this building.” He dropped his mouth to her temple and kissed her again. “Near you.”

  Every inch of her felt lighter, somehow, and her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. Because as strange as it seemed, she believed him. He had only just met her when they’d argued about the apartment, yet she’d felt an incredibly strong attraction to him. Was it so crazy to think he’d felt the same?

  She turned so their noses touched, and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “I’ll be ready.”

  * * *

  TELLING CLAIRE HE WASN’T poor had been the first step in easing her toward the truth. Philip knew that most women, here and on Elatyria, would be thrilled to find out their supposedly penniless suitor had wealth beyond their imagining. But Claire wasn’t like most women, which was why he’d fallen in love with her. She wouldn’t be happy that he’d deceived her—like the woman in the film his friends had watched last night. He only hoped she understood when he told her the whole story.

  In the meantime, though, now that he was free to use some of his money, he intended to make the most of it. Claire had worked hard every single day since he’d met her, with very little help. She deserved a fantasy night out, and he intended to give it to her.

  He knocked on her door right on time, heard her call from within. “Come on in, it’s unlocked.”

  Unlocked. That displeased him, although he couldn’t tell her so without revealing that he, Shelby and Teeny had been guarding her full-time again. Stating that fact might not be so bad. Telling her it was because her brother, who hadn’t even contacted her in the weeks since he’d used and exploited her, was possibly in trouble again, could make things very painful for her. And causing her pain was something Philip did not intend to do. Now, or ever.

  He twisted the knob and let himself in. Claire’s apartment was as immaculate and prettily decorated as her shop—nothing like the units upstairs. The front room was expansive, with tasteful furniture and soft lighting. The colors suited her—cream and mauve, subdued, elegant and graceful. He suspected this was her retreat after long days in the hectic shop, which had appeared to be empty of customers only during the brief minutes he’d spent with her this morning.

  Of course, that had been because Teeny had been standing right outside the door, telling customers they had to wait a few minutes.

  The rest of the day had flown by; Philip had watched from the restaurant across the street as the cr
owds streamed in. Knowing she was surrounded by people, he’d finally allowed himself to go upstairs and get ready for their evening.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, sounding breathless as she emerged from a back room.

  He sucked in a breath himself, his whole body heating up as he beheld her. Claire was always lovely. Right now, though, she was the most stunning creature he had ever seen.

  She wore a black dress that clung to her curvaceous form. It was short, coming to just above her knees, showing off her slim legs to advantage. The dress plunged low in the front to reveal those magnificent breasts he’d so thoroughly enjoyed tasting. When she turned slightly to retrieve her coat, and he saw that the back plunged even farther, he had to swallow, hard, and remind himself to breathe.

  “Are you sure you won’t be too cold?” he choked out, both loving the way she looked and dreading any other man seeing her that way.

  Her eyes sparkled and her lips twitched. “I’ll be fine.”

  She sauntered closer, her pose casual, but her trembling mouth betraying her. She liked this power, was reveling in her feminine strengths, confident and stunning.

  Philip strode to her and grabbed her in his arms, pulling her against him and capturing her mouth in a kiss. Their tongues swirled, hot and hard, and he knew she’d worn this dress on purpose, wanting to inflame him, wanting him hungry for her every minute until they finally consummated their union.

  “You know what you do to me,” he growled against her mouth.

  She looked up at him, smoothing her hand over the shoulder of the tailored tuxedo he’d purchased earlier in the week. “The same thing you do to me?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Philip, if you told me you’d changed your mind and wanted to walk right back to my bedroom and strip me out of this dress, I would have absolutely no objection.”

  That was so very tempting. But tonight wasn’t about merely seducing her body. He wanted her mind, her heart, her soul.

  “You will tempt me all night long,” he told her as he reached for her coat and helped her put it on.

  She looked the tiniest bit disappointed. So right before he led her out of the apartment, he bent to whisper, “Before we go, though, I must know.... What are you wearing under that dress?”

  She licked her lips, smiling mysteriously. Then, without a word, she reached into the small black purse, opened it and withdrew a tiny tuft of soft black fabric.

  “I was wearing these.”

  Gods, the woman tormented him. He grabbed the tiny panties from her hand, brought them to his mouth and rubbed the fabric against his lips, catching the warm, sweet scent of her. Then he tucked them into his pocket, planning to keep this souvenir forever.

  They had to leave now or they wouldn’t leave at all. He took her arm and escorted her down the hallway to the front exit. Standing outside at the curb was the long black vehicle he’d engaged for the evening.

  When he led her toward it, she gasped. “You hired a limo?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t have a driving license.”

  “Ever heard of a cab?”

  “This seemed a better choice.”

  She let him help her in, and scooted over so he could move into place beside her. Exchanging nods with the driver, who had received his instructions earlier, Philip watched as the privacy panel slid up, leaving him and Claire entirely alone and shielded from the outside world in the shadowy darkness of the car.

  “This is amazing,” she said as she examined the interior. When she saw the bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket, with two accompanying glasses, she licked her lips. Beside it were two china plates, silverware and tempting appetizers. “You really thought of everything.”

  “I wanted to pamper you. To take care of you for a change.”

  She blinked rapidly, as if moisture threatened to spill from her eyes. “Nobody’s ever done that for me before.”

  “Never?”

  She shook her head. “Not since I was young. My mother was...not strong.”

  That surprised him, given the extraordinary strength and will Claire possessed. His own mother was as gracious and kind as could be, but had an iron spine. He had little use for weak women.

  “My father doted on her, but then he was gone, and it was just me, her and Freddy.”

  “And you took over?”

  “Yes.”

  Claire told him more, revealing so much of herself as she talked about her childhood. Many of her tales made him laugh, others had him tensing his fists, ready to hurt someone. How a father could allow himself to become addicted to games of chance, leaving his family nearly penniless, was unfathomable. How a mother could collapse into weakness under the guise of her artistic temperament, allowing her teenaged daughter to support her, was infuriating.

  Yet how Claire had done it—and succeeded beyond anyone’s dreams—was inspiring.

  Philip had instructed the driver to cruise around the city for a while, but once the champagne and caviar were gone, he pressed a button to signal they were ready to proceed to their eventual destination. When they arrived, and the driver opened the door, Claire looked past him to the entrance for the hotel and gasped.

  “This is...oh, my God, Philip, this is the Four Seasons.”

  “Yes, I know. The guidebook spoke highly of it.”

  She clutched his arm. “You can’t possibly afford this.”

  “For one night—for this night—I can absolutely afford this.”

  She opened her mouth as if to object again, but he kissed away her words. By the time he’d finished exploring her luscious mouth, any arguments had left her mind, and she smiled as she exited the car.

  Having called ahead to make arrangements, and gotten the information he needed, Philip didn’t hesitate once inside. He crossed the marble-floored lobby, which was almost as graceful and elegant as his own palace, though much more crowded, and went straight to the restaurant. After he gave his name, they were led to a private table, small and intimate, in a shadowy corner.

  “This is too much,” Claire said as Philip helped her into her seat.

  “Pampering. Remember?”

  “I know, but...”

  “Are you having a good time?”

  “Yes, but...”

  “Then please just enjoy yourself. Stop worrying, stop analyzing, stop thinking.”

  She hesitated, then finally nodded. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m quite sure.”

  That seemed to put an end to her worries, because for the next few hours, over what even Shelby would concede was an excellent meal, Claire was as relaxed and happy as he’d ever seen her. They talked about everything. More about her childhood, and as much as he could tell her about his.

  He was finally able to admit that he was the only son of very wealthy parents, and revealed much about his daily life. She enjoyed hearing about his family. She especially liked his stories about his spoiled cousin, Shelby, who, she forced him to admit, hadn’t really wanted to work in her shop tonight, and had done it only under duress.

  “It sounds so wonderful, where you live,” she said, after they were finishing off a dessert that couldn’t begin to compare to the one they’d had the previous night. “I’d love to see it.”

  “You will.”

  She shifted a little and looked away. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I wasn’t angling for an invitation.”

  “You have one.”

  She nodded in thanks. “I just meant I’ve never really been anywhere but here. My mother used to talk about her life in the ballet, before she met and married my father. She traveled all over the world, saw exotic places—glamorous cities, big castles, jungles, deserts.”

  His own kingdom could provide many of those things. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a jungle not too far away.

  So far, so good, as they said.

  “I thought you liked living here,” he murmured, wanting to discover just how attached she was to her homeland.
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  She shrugged. “I do. But I don’t know whether it’s because I really like it or because I have no other options.”

  “You could go anywhere you want.”

  “Not easily,” she said with a sigh.

  “Because of your shop?”

  “The shop was a means to an end. A way to support myself and my brother. I never finished college, and neither did he. I inherited the building and thought about selling it.”

  Would Philip never have met her in that case? It didn’t bear thinking about. “Why did you decide not to?” he asked, suspecting he knew the reason. Claire wasn’t one to take the easy road.

  “I suppose because I was thinking long-term, not short-term. I had enough money to get by and to do something with the building. I don’t have many other skills, other than being able to make the most fattening foods on the planet.”

  “Delectable,” he murmured, thinking about some of the specialties he’d sampled. None compared to her, but they were all better than any sweets he’d tasted in any world.

  “It seemed going into business would be better than getting a big chunk of cash, which my brother could try to squeeze out of me in dribs and drabs.”

  Philip’s hand tightened in his lap as he thought about her brother. “Have you heard from him?” he was compelled to ask.

  A shadow crossed her face. “No, not a word in weeks.”

  “And you’re worried?”

  “Yes, plus more than a little hurt, to be honest. I was furious at first. Now I just feel betrayed.”

  Philip reached out and grasped her hand. “I am going to be thankful every day for the rest of my life that your wastrel brother took advantage of us both.”

  She gazed at him, her lovely eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “I suspect I am, too,” she whispered.

  They stared at one another for a long moment, saying so many things without speaking. And at that moment, Philip knew Claire was in love with him, too. Neither of them had said the words, but the emotion was there, thick and powerful, swirling between them like an undeniable force.