“You wouldn’t dare,” she exclaimed, shocked he would mar something so dear to her.
“I’m not asking your permission,” he firmly retorted as he held both her small wrists in his rough hand.
Audrey struggled against him as he roughly pulled off the jacket and then smoothed his hands down the front of the sacrificial blouse. His grin revealed the purely mischievous spirit springing to the surface as he managed in one swift motion to pop off each and every pearl button running from her décolletage to her waist.
Beneath the blouse, she wore nothing but a silk camisole and a locket she never removed. Moments before, Silas looked prepared to do battle, gearing up to fight the layers of undergarments most women wore. Instead, Audrey’s round breasts stood at full attention beneath the thin, cool fabric.
He looked overwhelmed for a moment as he took in the sight of her, half disrobed and leaning back against the wide, round table.
“My word, Miss Rousseau. Aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes,” he said, the twang in his voice emphasized for effect. She couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the wild scenario she had found herself in, all alone with this strange man who somehow managed to make her giggle while simultaneously tearing off her clothes.
In contrast to his rough treatment of her beloved jacket and blouse just moments before, he now palmed the fine silk and lace trim of her pale pink camisole with the care of a fine surgeon, slowly lifting it above her head with both hands as his fingertips ran across her bare torso for the first time.
Standing above her, he leaned down and gently dragged his tongue between her breasts, taking each nipple in his mouth one at a time. He slowly ran his hands up and down her back from the nape of her neck to the bottom of her spine just above her ass. He let his tongue travel the journey from her taut nipples up her neck and just below her earlobe and then make a return trip once again.
Occasionally one hand would grab a fistful of her carefully coifed bobbed hairdo and he would hold her up to his face, devour her lips and tongue with a passion so wild she had no choice but to succumb. This waxing and waning of gentle caressing and fitful devouring left her gasping for air and desperate to touch him in return, but he resisted her advances when she attempted to unbutton his shirt. Despite the impressive bulge growing beneath his slim-cut pale yellow suit pants, he made no move towards revealing what was under the layers of fine cotton.
Both of them remained for several minutes panting against each other, each lover’s hot breath in the other’s ear. Silas held her tightly, now only gently caressing her hair and holding her half naked body against his strong chest.
Once some time passed and their breaths had slowed to a hushed, simultaneous rise and fall, he leaned into her ear and said, “I won’t take you tonight, because I am a gentleman and I can sense you’re not ready. But I want you, Audrey. And I will have you.”
He took her petite hand in his and dragged it down the front of his shirt, over the smooth edges of the belt around his waist and along the front seam of his pants, a piece of fabric that looked on the verge of splitting right down the middle with the stress of what lay just beneath the surface. Beneath the cotton, she could feel the heat and throbbing of pure, masculine desire. Her face went red hot, and there was nothing she could do to stifle the blush in her cheeks and the surge of moisture between her legs.
Despite her vulnerable, naked state, and the hunger coursing through her veins, she gathered her courage as she pulled her camisole over her shoulders.
“I wish to return to my room now, Mr. Abrams. Please bring me to my car. I will be invoicing you tomorrow for the cost of the jacket.”
If he wanted to play the game, she would be more than happy to compete.
Chapter Four
“Didn’t think I’d see you here this morning,” Max said from the kitchen doorway as he took off his wide-brimmed cowboy hat. Silas sat at the table in his smoking jacket, reading the newspaper. “What time did you get home?”
“Late,” Silas replied, unwilling to give his older brother the satisfaction of any details. Dawn was just breaking, but Max was already dressed and ready for a day on the range. His brother, on the other hand, had clearly not gone to bed for more than an hour.
Max sat down across the table from Silas and looked him square in the eye.
“Were you with Rousseau?”
“What do you think?”
A moment of uncomfortable silence settled over them as Max refused to answer his sarcastic rhetorical question.
“All right. That's enough, Silas. Look, I have every right to be annoyed with you for walking out of the meeting with Michaelovitch and keeping us from sealing the deal. So did you have any revelations with Rousseau?”
“She definitely wants to do business with us. She drew up plans for a menswear line. It's nothing short of impressive.”
“Menswear? What man would shop in a department store like ours? I can't believe you think that's more promising than Michaelovitch's plan.”
Silas didn't respond, except with a flash of hostility burning from his cobalt blue eyes. Max couldn't pretend to be surprised. The tension between them came and went since they’d lost Jackie three years ago, but things had never been the same between them.
“Come work with me today out on the ranch,” Max said to break the silence, trying his damnedest to find the last bone of patience in his body. “When was the last time you got your hands dirty? We can talk business and check in on how things are going on the property.”
Silas paused for a moment before grudgingly admitting to his brother he was right. “It's been too long. Give me ten minutes.”
* * * *
Audrey woke up to a scuffling outside her door and heard two men arguing in the hallway. It was early, the light barely streaming through her balcony. She dressed in her favorite pair of silk men's pajamas and opened the curtains to the first bright, golden rays of a Texas morning.
“I must leave this for Miss Abrams!” she heard one voice say forcefully beyond the walls of her room.
It took her a moment before she realized the man in the hallway was referring to her. She threw on her robe and opened the door to find two men on the verge of coming to blows. Neither looked the type to start a fistfight in a hotel hallway. The bellboy's hair was mussed, and he had a look of fear in his eyes. An older gentleman in a carefully tailored suit held a large leather case in one hand with a ribbon wrapped around it, now torn and smashed by their altercation.
“What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?”
Audrey immediately halted the argument by her appearance. They both stared at her, blushes rising on their faces within moments.
“Miss Belle Abrams, I presume?” the older gentleman asked politely, in stark contrast to his former tone with the young hotel employee. Beneath the politeness of his voice, there was a note of amusement in his tone.
She blushed at hearing the fake name she used while checking into the Parkside several days ago. She’d created the alias to elude her past, for security, but she had to admit that it also came in handy while hiding from Silas. She smiled to herself when she thought of him calling every hotel in Dallas and never thinking to look under his own last name.
But now, after the awkward ending of last night, she was appalled by her use of the well-known name in Dallas.
“Y-yes. That’s me,” Audrey stammered. “Didn't I make it clear I was not to be disturbed?” she said, finding her footing again by taking out her frustration on the bellboy. She was deeply concerned by how easily she had been found out. She came to Dallas to feel anonymous, but apparently even the safety of a pseudonym didn't completely hide her.
“My sincerest apologies, Miss Abrams. This man is trespassing. I was just about to call the police.”
“Wait just a moment. I've simply come to deliver a package from my employer, Silas Abrams,” the older man responded.
“Silas Abrams? As in, the owner of Jacqueline's?” The bellboy blushed, immediately realizing he was challenging a very powerful member of Dallas society.
“Yes! Now leave me, or I will report this incident to your supervisor!”
Within a moment, the young employee swiftly departed, profusely apologizing as he ran out of sight.
“I'm terribly sorry, Miss Rousseau. I tried with all my ability to slip in and out of here unnoticed, but you were difficult to locate. I had to pull quite a few strings to find the guest list with your alias on it. My name is Mason Bryant, by the way. I serve as the personal assistant to both Max and Silas.”
“It's nice to meet you, Mr. Bryant. And I'm impressed by your detective work, I must admit. And please forgive my inappropriate attire. I wasn't exactly expecting guests,” Audrey said as she looked down at her nightwear. “I'm usually up by this hour working, but I'm afraid I've gotten a bit of a slow start on the morning.”
“No need for explanations, Miss Rousseau. I simply came to deliver this, courtesy of Master Silas. My apologies that the gift didn't arrive here in its intended state.”
The courteous man handed the gift to Audrey and was gone within a moment. She exhaled deeply as she shut the door, relieved the intruder hadn't been someone with ill intentions. Her heart still skipped a beat when she thought of being woken suddenly in the night by an unwelcome guest bound and determined to do her harm. But she hated to think of the past, of all that old fear and pain, and immediately pushed it from her mind in favor of examining the box now lying on her vanity. She was safe in Dallas, embarking on a new life thousands of miles from Paris and the past.
She carefully opened the strangely shaped leather case, removing the silk ribbon and undoing the clasps holding it shut. Inside sat a grey felt cowboy hat, cut long and petite in what Audrey guessed was a Texas gesture towards femininity. She lifted the hat out of its strange box and discovered a large velvet pouch beneath the charming and entertaining welcome gift to this strange new place.
She opened the pouch and spilled the contents across the vanity so she could examine them more closely. Across the smooth marble top spread a pile of beautiful pearl buttons, far more than Silas had marred the previous evening on her prized jacket. At the bottom of the pile sat a tiny, handwritten note.
Dear Miss Rousseau, I am thrilled to make your acquaintance and hope you will accept this gesture as an official welcome to Texas. Please forgive my trespasses last night. Will you chalk it up to temporary insanity?
Here's to a thousand pearl buttons and a future of endlessly fruitful collaborations.
Yours, Silas R. Abrams
P.S. Might you be interested in attending a party at our home, The Arches, on Saturday evening? A telegraph will arrive this afternoon with details.
She put on the hat and laughed at her reflection in the large vanity mirror. She looked like a different person, someone she didn't know and never imagined meeting. Did women here really wear these hats?
As she stared at this new version of herself, she thought about Silas' note, such a mixture of the formal and the affectionate. Where did she stand with him? And, more importantly, what did she want?
She had no intention of playing games with him and expected the same from him. Last night was a moment, a luscious interlude that meant nothing and ultimately remained quite innocent. Although Silas filled her with desire in a way she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years, if ever, she knew from experience that business and pleasure couldn't—and shouldn't—mix.
Drawing a bath in her tub, she enjoyed keeping the cowboy hat on while stripping off her silky layers and submerging her body in the deep, hot water. She added some soap flakes and let the bubbles rise to the top edge of the porcelain. Her whole body relaxed, and she hummed an old tune from her childhood as she scrubbed herself clean.
She carefully placed her wonderfully exotic new possession on the table next to her and dipped low in the tub, soaking her hair in the water in preparation for a long wash. She caressed each body part with the luxurious soap the hotel provided her, and she couldn't help but be consumed by thoughts of the previous night as her hands travelled across the private spaces of her torso.