“Like she usually does, if you want to know the truth, Fee,” Nick finished.
“He’s right, Fiona. His older sister and mine spend too much time intruding into their brothers’ lives and making damn nuisances of themselves. Right, Nick?” Sam asked.
“I wouldn’t think of contradicting my older and much wiser brother-in-law.”
“I don’t intrude, Nicky, I’m just concerned,” Amanda said.
By this time the host had become impatient waiting at the table for the foursome. Nick said, “How about we continue talking after dinner? I’ll treat for dessert and a nightcap to celebrate and to make amends for trying to earn a living when my interfering sister wanted to talk to me.”
“Great,” Sam said. “Grab a table in the bar here, if you can, and we’ll join you when we’re finished. If you can’t get a table, we can go down the street to the Heathman.”
“Since my date has an in with the management, we’ll let Fiona get us a table. Champagne, Amanda, or something else?”
“Oh, definitely champagne,” she said. “I think being in a gallery in New York is worth champagne. Especially if you’re buying.”
A little over an hour later, the six of them were at a table in the bar where, thanks to Fiona’s intervention, there was a “reserved” sign and a bottle of chilled Veuve Cliquot waiting for them. Nick arranged with their server to get the bill, then returned to the table where he settled next to Fiona and draped his arm proprietarily around the back of her chair.
When they’d ordered desserts, poured the champagne, and made a toast, Fiona said, “This is so exciting, Amanda. How’d it happen?”
“The gallery owner saw my work last fall in Seattle and contacted me. Everything is all signed and I may have a show there as early as this winter.”
“Mom will be all over this,” Nick said. “She’s already been to D.C. to see my exhibit, accompanied by friends she’d dragged in from the surrounding states. For New York, she’ll set up base camp someplace in the city and bring in the whole Eastern seaboard.”
“When I called to tell her about it I swear I could hear her clicking keys on her laptop. If she wasn’t checking out some ultrasound images she was probably researching hotels close to the gallery,” Amanda said.
“The good news is her friends bought some of my work. You’ll probably have the same thing happen.” He turned to Fiona. “Have you ever met our parents, Fee?”
“For a few minutes at Sam and Amanda’s wedding. Not to talk to.”
“Conversations with our mother are an interesting cultural experience. Like being examined in an adolescent rite of passage in a tribal society someplace.”
“It sounds like I need to be on assignment far, far away when they come to town,” Fiona said.
“Sorry, the out-of-town-excuse is exclusively mine,” Nick said, hugging her. “You’ll have to find another.”
“Fiona, don’t let them scare you. Dr. and Mr. St. Claire are really nice people,” Sam said.
“Of course you think they’re nice. My mom adored you before she even met you.” Amanda said.
“I met her by e-mail first. I’m more impressive in writing, apparently,” Sam said.
“Your mom is obviously a doctor, Amanda, what’s your dad do?” Tony asked.
“Mom’s an OB-GYN. Since he retired from business, Dad runs the family trust.”
“How come I didn’t know you two had a family trust?” Fiona said, looking first at her friend then at her date.
“Our great-grandfather on the St. Claire side set up a trust to hold real estate and pay for college. On my mother’s side, we had a stockbroker grandfather who set up trusts for us to inherit when we turned twenty-five. All very weird and nineteenth century,” Amanda said.
“But when you marry into it,” Sam said, leaning over and kissing his wife on the temple, “and gain not only a talented and beautiful wife who loves you but who already owns a home in Alameda and a beach house, it’s not bad.”
After the dessert party broke up, Fiona and Nick walked through the Park Blocks toward his hotel. It was a pleasant spring evening and, in a move that reminded her of their walk around the Tidal Basin in Washington, Nick took her hand as they strolled unhurriedly between the beds of red and yellow tulips in full bloom.
“So, a trust fund baby,” Fiona said. “Must be nice. What’s it like?”
Crap. That sounded bad as soon as it left her mouth
.
What was it about this man that made her forget how to filter her words?
“The good thing was we could go to any college where we were accepted and had an income when we graduated, so we could get established in careers that aren’t always easy to start in without a safety net. The bad part is the tone in people’s voice when they say ‘trust fund baby.’”
She dipped her head and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound insulting. It’s just so far outside my experience, I’m not sure how to process it.”
“It’s okay. You’re not alone. It’s why I don’t talk about it. Amanda’s more comfortable with it, I guess. At least she makes jokes about having robber baron ancestors whose wise investments gave us a nice life.”
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed. Look at what the two of you have done with your lives. It’s not as if you’ve been sitting around eating bon-bons and having your nails done.”
“Maybe. Although sometimes I think the reason I like challenging assignments is because it makes me feel like I’m paying my dues for the good luck of being born into my family.”
“I begin to see why your sister hovers. You take many chances with your work?”
“Not really. Are you worried?” He put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her in an affectionate hug.
She slipped her arm around his waist and decided to change the subject rather than answer the question. “So, where did you go to college?”
He had an amused expression on his face as if her evasion of his question was what he expected. “Columbia.”
“Good journalism school.”
“Exactly. The j-school and the chance to live in New York for a few years were the attractions. Where did you go to school?”
“Washington State University, in Pullman, which is so far east in Washington State it practically qualifies as Idaho. I was a communications major with journalism as my minor.”
“And what’s your family like?”
“As different from yours as it’s possible to be. My father was a longshoreman at the Port of Tacoma and my mother was an office manager for a local real estate developer. You ever been to Tacoma?”
“Yup. One summer while I was in college, I interned with a photojournalist and we covered a strike at the port. You didn’t want to go back when you graduated?”
“I thought about it, but the job offer came from Portland. So here I am. I missed my family at first but now I have friends who are almost as close as family.”
“Your parents still live there?”
“They do, in the same little house they’ve lived in for forty years. They’re retired now. Which means my mom can enjoy her grandkids who live close by.”
“You smile when you talk about them. Good family to grow up in?”
“It was.”
By this time, they were standing in the lobby of the Paramount Hotel. Nick caressed her cheek with the backs of his curled fingers. With his touch she lost all interest in her family; couldn’t have remembered her sisters’ names if he’d asked.
“What do you think? Am I going to ask you up to my room?” He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead.
“I don’t know. Are you?” Every cell in her body was concentrated on the feel of his fingers on her face and a desire to taste his mouth.
“If I ask, do you know what you’ll say?”
She reached up and took his chin in her hands. After she kissed him, she said, “Did I give the right answer?”
“The elevator’s this way.”
• • •
She’d been thinking about this ever since yesterday, when they’d had drinks. Would he ask? Of course he would. Should she go? Maybe just have dinner. Which would be stupid, after Washington. But what about Amanda? She’d lied to her friend. Okay, not lied, just not told her the whole story.
Then she’d seen the look in his eyes when she walked into the restaurant, felt his thumb caress the back of her neck as they sat in the bar while she tried to carry on an intelligent conversation. His touch so unnerved her at first she was sure she’d been speechless. And now, with just the brush of his fingers across her cheek, he had her where he wanted her. Where she wanted to be, in the elevator going up to his room.
Which was lovely. A sofa and leather-covered chairs were grouped around a small, glass table. A private patio, furnished with a wrought iron table and two chairs, overlooked the street. On the desk was his MacBook and, beside the desk, leather bags that probably held his camera equipment.
And, of course, there was a huge king-size bed.
Her expression must have changed because he said softly, “Second thoughts, Fee?”
“Not second thoughts about being here with you, no. But about…” She sighed and made an impatient gesture. “I’m just not very good at this kind of lying.”
“Lying? To who?”
“Amanda. I told her we had dinner a few times and I saw your show in Alexandria. That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is.”
“But I didn’t tell her everything.”
“If she weren’t my sister what more would you have told her?”
“A lot more.”
“So, women do talk to one another about what goes on in bedrooms.”
“Well, not all the details, but sometimes. Don’t men?”
“I guess. Mostly when we’re immature, stupid teenagers and then it’s mostly exaggerated. I’m neither, so I don’t.” He dropped his hands. “But if you’ve changed your mind…”
She took a step closer and took his face in her hands, loving the rough feel of his stubble against her skin. “Being here with you like this is all I’ve thought of since you called. I’m just torn about Amanda.”
This time when he put his hands on her waist he pulled her close. “My sister knows exactly what’s going on, Fee. I’ve never come to Portland on a shoot before. The few times I’ve been here, I’ve always stayed at her house. I’ve never had ‘a previous engagement’ when she asked me to have dinner with her. She knows. And she must be okay with it or I’d have heard about it.”
Fiona laughed. “So you think we have her seal of approval?”
“Does it matter so much to you?”
“Her friendship matters to me, yes.”
“She’s lucky to have such a loyal friend.” He kissed her forehead. “Can I convince you to transfer some of your loyalty to other members of her family?”
In place of an answer, she stood on tiptoes and claimed his mouth in a kiss.
• • •
He could feel her heart beating fast and hard, racing from the kiss as much as his own was. When he’d caught his breath, he began to slip the sweater she wore off her shoulders. “This is my second favorite part of having you in my bedroom,” he murmured as he unzipped her dress.
She shrugged her shoulders and the dress slithered down her arms and over her hips to the floor. “What’s your favorite part?” The glint in her now dark blue-gray eyes said she knew.
“We’re getting there, beautiful. We’re getting there.”
The lacy panties and bra she was wearing held his attention for a few seconds but no longer. He unhooked her bra with a flick of his wrist, making her laugh.
“Hey, this is serious stuff,” he said as he lowered the straps of the bra over her shoulders, and he could admire the creamy skin and soft pink nipples he’d uncovered.
“Do I want to know how you got to be so good at unhooking bras?”
“When I was about fourteen, I stole one of Amanda’s and practiced.” He was kissing his way from her cheek to her now naked breasts.
She detoured him with one hand so she was looking into his eyes. “Not possible.”
“How do you know?” He removed her hand and pressed his mouth to her neck. “You weren’t there. And Amanda never knew.”
“Amanda was in college here in Portland when you were fourteen,” she said in her best reporter’s “gotcha” voice.
It made him chuckle and almost—
almost
—made him forget what he’d been headed for; her beautiful breasts. “Hush. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”
Kissing between her breasts, then trailing his fingers over her nipples, he was rewarded with her shiver of anticipation. Softly, just barely touching her, he went south, dispensing with her panties just as efficiently as he had the bra.
When he had all her clothes on the floor, he led her to the bed and pulled down the spread. She curled up in the sheets as he made short work of his own clothes, eager to get into bed, into her.
“One of these times, it’ll be my turn to undress you first,” she said as he slid in beside her.
“Any time you want to undress me, I’d be happy to cooperate, believe me.”
She was smiling when he began to nibble his way from her neck to her earlobes and then to her mouth where he converted her smile to a hot, open-mouthed kiss. His hand found her breast, massaging the nipple to a taut point, then skimmed down to grip her hip and pull her against his erection.
“You’re all I’ve thought of since I knew I was coming to Portland.” He moved to the other breast, first with his hand, then with his mouth, sucking, licking, nipping at the sensitive skin until he felt her arch her back, pressing against him.
Then he moved down, a kiss at a time, from her breasts to her belly, circling her navel with his tongue, caressing her body with his hands, retracing his steps of a few minutes before until his mouth and hands found the place he wanted, hidden in the folds of her sex.
Gently, one finger found the hot, wet core of her, then another. Then with his fingers inside her and his tongue on her clitoris, he first felt—then heard—her climax.
Kissing his way back up her body, feeling the friction of her soft skin against his hair-roughened chest, he reached her face and in quick succession, kissed her forehead, her eyes and her mouth.
She opened her eyes, began to speak but stopped and just kissed him. She skimmed her hand down his side, then between their bodies. When he realized what she was doing he moved to give her access so she could stroke his cock, slowly at first, then beginning to build in speed and pressure as he felt himself get harder and harder. “God, Fee, you have no idea how good you feel there.”