One Touch of Moondust (13 page)

“There's a candle.”

When he'd lowered her to the bed, he lit the candle, filling the room with the scent of lavender. Then he turned and started for the door.

“Paul?”

“I have to protect you. I'll be back,” he promised.

Her heart filled to overflowing at this further evidence of his caring. Her trust was not misplaced. This was right. As she waited for his
return, her stomach muscles tensed in anticipation of his joining her on the bed. Her pulse was beating to a sensual cadence. Then, as the narrow mattress sank beneath his weight, her skin tingled at the brush of denim and flannel against her flesh.

Expecting no more than urgency and a swift claiming from this first time together, Gabrielle instead found herself caught up in a slow building of passion. Paul teased and tempted and explored, waiting for sensation to subside before finding new ways to drive her wild with desire. She'd never imagined this exquisite tension, the urgent need to reach a peak of pleasure beyond all experience. He played her body as expertly as a longtime lover, but with the reverence of a man receiving an incredible gift for the first time. He lingered and tasted and stroked until fire consumed any remaining doubts for either of them.

His skin became slick beneath her anxious touch. His muscles tensed to steel as he moved to claim her at last. There was one unbearably slow thrust that startled her with its promise of yet more pleasure. She gasped as he withdrew, then began to fill her once again.

She heard his faint, startled exclamation of her name as if from very far away, then sensed that he was hesitating. Her body protested at the delay. Instinctively her legs circled his back and her hips rose in search of a heat that ignited her own passion.

She was vaguely aware of Paul's anguished moan as he plunged into her again. There was an instant of pain that took her by surprise and then was gone as their bodies adapted to a natural rhythm as old as time. Just when she thought she'd reached the highest peak of excitement possible, he led her on, flames of pure sensation firing her blood. And when passion exploded through her body at last, joy radiated through her heart at the unexpected sense of fulfillment.

The delicious tension slowly subsided. She opened her eyes to find Paul staring at her. “Okay?” he said, brushing damp tendrils of hair back from her face.

“More than okay.” Rapture lingered as an incredible sensation of well-being.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” she said, rubbing her fingers across the stubble that darkened his jaw.
The sandpapery, masculine texture sent shivers dancing through her.

“That you'd never been with a man before.”

“Does it matter?” she said, feeling oddly defensive at a moment when she wanted to indulge herself in far sweeter memories.

He smiled. “Not in the way you're apparently thinking. I could have made it better for you, though.”

“I doubt that,” she said, a wry inflection in her voice.

Grinning slightly, Paul ran a finger across her lips. “Thanks for the flattery, but really, why didn't you say anything?”

“It's not exactly something you announce on a first date.”

“This is not a first date. We've been living together for weeks now.”

“Platonically.”

“Barely,” he said dryly.

She scowled at him. “If you want to get technical. But I still say this is our first date.”

“At what point did it become a date and not just another night at home? When you decided to fix a fancy dinner? When I inadvertently
stood you up? Or when you began to seduce me?”

He had a point, though she couldn't imagine why he felt the need to belabor this. Being a virgin at her age might be unusual, but it wasn't exactly a crime.

“Okay,” she said grumpily. “Even tonight wasn't a date, which is all the more reason for me to have kept my mouth shut about my lack of experience. Why does that bother you so much? I thought men got all macho and tingly knowing that they were the first. Didn't I get it right?”

“Don't get testy. You got it very right. I was just surprised. You're a beautiful, desirable woman. I can't believe you've never had a serious relationship.”

“Actually, I was engaged.”

“And you never…” he began incredulously.

“If you'd met Townsend, you'd understand. It was a very formal engagement. Until I met you, I had no idea of the meaning of the word desire.”

“I'm glad I was able to broaden your vocabulary.”

All of a sudden there was an odd tension in his voice that puzzled her. It didn't fit with the tender aftermath of glorious lovemaking. “What's wrong?”

“Tell me the truth, Gaby. Was this just an experiment? You'd certainly gone out of your way to set the scene, right down to the candle by the bed. Did you decide it was time to discover your own sexuality and pick me because I was in the neighborhood and struck you as being an adequate stud?”

Shocked by the crude assessment of what had just happened between them, she sat up in bed, clutching the sheet across her breasts. She felt embarrassed and cold and incredibly empty inside.

“I really must not have gotten it right, if you think that,” she said her voice flat. “I never said I didn't have opportunities to hop into bed with other men. I said I'd never had these feelings before.” She glowered at him. “
You
inspire them. I don't know what they mean or the full ramifications of tonight, but I wanted this to happen between us because it felt right. Now I have to wonder if it wasn't an awful mistake.”

Paul winced as if she'd slapped him. He reached out to touch her, but she shrugged off his hand.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I should never have said that. Maybe I said it because I was feeling guilty about my own motives. God knows I've wanted you from the very first moment you walked into this apartment. Up until now I've had sense enough to keep my hands off.”

“You don't have any reason to feel guilty for taking what I offered, only for making it seem ugly and cheap.” She allowed her point to sink in, then sighed. “Paul, I don't regret what happened tonight.”

“That's not what you said a minute ago.”

“I was furious at you a minute ago for trying to ruin something very special.”

The tension seemed to drain from his body at last. She saw the spark of heat flare in his eyes and recognized it. “Maybe I should try to make it up to you,” he suggested in a voice that sent fire sizzling through her veins all over again.

“Maybe you should.”

* * *

When Paul woke in the morning, he was surprised to find that he was alone in Gaby's
bed. During the night, he'd gotten accustomed to waking up and finding her nestled close beside him. Sometimes he had contented himself with just watching her sleep, filled with an overwhelming sense of possessiveness. More often, he'd needed to touch her, to feel the satin of her skin as it warmed beneath his fingers. And on more of those occasions than he'd dreamed possible, she had come awake to his touch, returning it with sleepy pleasure, until they'd wound up clinging together in passion yet again.

He stretched, got out of bed and without bothering to pick up his scattered clothes went in search of Gabrielle. He heard her before he found her, her voice low and edged with a note of nervousness he'd never heard before. He walked into the living room, where she was curled up in the corner of the sofa talking on the phone. She glanced up at him, her eyes widening as she took in his state of undress. He went over and dropped a light kiss on her forehead, then sat down across from her, feeling not one bit guilty about his blatant eavesdropping. He wanted to know what had put the
tension in her voice and the frown on her forehead.

“Yes, Daddy. Of course, everything is all right. You don't need to worry about me.”

Paul watched as she swallowed hard. A blush crept into her cheeks. “The job is going just fine.”

Startled, he simply stared at her. She refused to meet his gaze.

“Of course, I know I can count on you and Mother. If there were anything wrong, I would tell you. I have to go now, Daddy. There's someone at the door. I'll talk to you again next week. No, really. I'll call. I'll give you the phone number next time. 'Bye.”

She pushed down the button to break the connection, even before she replaced the receiver. She still didn't look at him.

“What was that all about?”

“Just checking in with my parents. If I don't call once a week, they get a little crazy.”

She started to get up.

“Don't leave.”

She sat back down, looking guilty and thoroughly uncomfortable.

“You haven't told them about your job yet, have you?”

“You were sitting right here. You know I haven't.”

“Or about where you're living?”

Her chin rose defiantly, then she sighed. “No.”

“Why not?”

“They'd worry.”

“It sounds to me as though they're already worried.”

“If you knew my parents, you'd realize that it's a perpetual state of mind.”

“Then why not tell them the truth?”

“Because they'd start pressuring me to come home. I'm not up to it.”

“Are you afraid you'd give in and go?”

“Of course not.”

“Then tell them. I could tell from the sound of your voice that the deception is beginning to take a toll on you. Get it out in the open. Let them know that you're doing just fine, that you're getting your life back together, making decisions about what you want to do next.”

“And how do I explain you?”

He grinned. “Now that's an interesting question.”

“Dammit, I'm serious. If they find out I am living with a man, they won't wait around to find out the circumstances. My father will be up here with a shotgun.”

“Is that really what you're afraid of? You don't seriously think your father will shoot me unless we traipse off to the nearest chapel.”

“Cathedral,” she corrected. “Senator Graham Clayton's daughter would only get married in the fanciest cathedral around, with an entourage and trappings that would make the royal weddings in England look like they were thrown by paupers.”

“Senator Graham Clayton?” Paul repeated in a voice that was admittedly choked. The man's name was synonymous with conservative politics and old-fashioned family values. A shotgun would probably be too good for a man who was sitting around naked chatting with his daughter. He'd probably string him up from a tree in Central Park and not necessarily by his neck. “I think I see the problem.”

A faint grin flitted across Gabrielle's face. “I thought you would.”

“I still don't like the idea of your lying to him. If he finds out what's happened before you tell him yourself, it will only upset him more.”

“How is he going to find out? He's too busy keeping the whole country on the straight and narrow to worry about one wayward daughter.”

“What if he tries to call you at work?” She stared at him, her expression horrified. “Oh, damn,” she whispered softly.

“Obviously that's not something you'd considered. What if one of your friends up here tries to track you down by calling your family? You've pretty much dropped out of sight. It's not unthinkable that they'd assume you'd gone back to South Carolina.”

“You're a real bundle of good news this morning, aren't you? Why aren't you still asleep?”

“I missed you,” he said evenly. “Now stop changing the subject.”

“I don't want to talk about this,” she said stubbornly.

“Fine, but you'd better think about it. Delaying
the inevitable is only going to make it worse.”

He left her sitting on the sofa, staring out the window.

Senator Graham Clayton.
He couldn't get the name out of his head as he dressed and went downstairs to finish painting the living room of the apartment that would soon be his. If last night had complicated his relationship with Gabrielle, this morning's revelation had given new meaning to the word. He might be considered a suitable addition to the family of some pleasant, middle-class politician whose name wasn't recognized beyond his own state, but he no more belonged in Senator Clayton's reportedly idyllic family than he did in Buckingham Palace.

“How many coats of paint are you going to put on that spot?” Gabrielle asked, interrupting his panicked thoughts.

He stared blankly at her, then at the wall. Sure enough he'd been running the roller over the exact same square for the last ten minutes. “I guess I wasn't paying attention.”

“I hope you weren't down here panicking about the shotgun.”

His expression must have given him away because she sighed heavily. “I knew it. I knew the minute you found out about my family, you'd start building your defenses right back up again. I can just hear that brain of yours clicking through all the reasons why we're unsuited and magnifying them out of all proportion.”

“You have to admit the stakes are a lot higher than I'd realized.”

“Stakes? The only thing at stake here is whether or not you and I care about each other. I can't speak for you, but I'm falling in love for the first time in my life.”

Paul felt his heart stop then start again at a faster beat. He shook his head adamantly. “You can't do that.”

“Who says?”

“I do. It won't work.”

“It was working well enough a few hours ago.”

“Don't remind me.”

She walked toward him until they were standing practically toe to toe. He felt as though he were suffocating.

“I think I have to,” she said softly, before
curling her fingers into the hair at the back of his head. His scalp tingled and the sensation danced straight down to his… Oh, hell, he thought weakly as her lips claimed his with a possessiveness that captured his breath and robbed him of all sensible thoughts. For a woman who'd been relatively inexperienced twenty-four hours ago, she was catching on quickly.