Authors: Elizabeth Lowe
Like an attending court, a throng of
servers and butlers converging upon the guests ushered them to assigned
seats.
Once everyone took their seats,
Keller proposed a toast.
Sam's hand
shook as she nicked her fragile eggshell plate with a flute of Dom
Perignon
.
As a flush
swabbed her cheeks, fingers convulsively choked the stem of the crystal for
stability.
Blue eyes mirroring panic,
wondering if everyone heard, quickly examined the fifty guests making up the
eclectic group; a few she recognized from newspaper and magazine articles, the
majority complete strangers.
Never did she imagine a table
capable of seating so many guests.
Displaying their artfully painted faces and rich, exquisite trinkets, the
woman, in general, had personalities like paste as they babbled back and
forth.
It was obvious they made a devote
effort to ensure their gown in no way resembled another's, each frock
excessively decorated.
Stately, as
though petrified in their tuxedos their countenance debonair, the male gender
smiled a condescending smile silently announcing to the female gender they
would always remain the more intellectual, stronger sex.
Shifting her weight around
nervously, picking at a ragged nail, positive everyone heard her knees knocking
together, Sam mashed the napkin on her lap.
Lifting it to her mouth to capture a nervous cough, she laced her
fingers together gripping them tightly trying to fight off the immensity of her
despair.
In an act of reassurance, Ted's hand blanketing hers gave a
slight squeeze.
When drawn into the conversation she
returned the requisite courtesies limiting her tête-à-tête to an economy of
comments feeling her words toppling over one another.
Cudgeling trembling reactions into control
made her jaw ach from the strain of smiling.
Stolen glances at Brad made matters
worse.
His very presence made her feel
she was floating into a mist of pleasure above the fabricated crowd where time
was in repose, draping, lounging, and lingering.
Long, luxuriant eye lashes added mystery to
his warrior face, his intense attractiveness insinuating menace.
Each time she chanced a look, he was wearing
his heartbreaking smile, his eyes narrowing ominously staring at her with an
appetite destroying covetous examination Sam prayed only she could
decipher.
A sidelong glance at her
escort said differently.
Ted was not
dismissing Brad's admirable gazes easily.
In the short span of time Sam knew
Brad, she discovered him to be a private man uncomfortable with the attention
he drew, and yet willing to employ his power.
No one ever could or would control Brad, the part of him so
intriguing.
Shocked by the direction of
her thoughts, with fluttering lashes she lowered her gaze to the bounty of morsels
she unconsciously dissected on her plate.
Wearing a droll smile, Brad
exchanged glances with Ted, then turned and focused his attention on
Bernie.
Placing his arm around her,
pulling her close he kissed her cheek.
Leaning into him, Bernie's eyes met his.
She laughed and touched his arm while she spoke.
She was flirtatious, fluid, feminine her
countenance fabulous, poised, and happy.
Meanwhile, Sam was crumbling like a cupcake wondering how in the world
she was ever going to associate professionally with such starched, boring
people.
Bernie felt Sam's eyes upon them,
mostly Brad, something odd lurking in her ice-blue irises, like a cat's
paw.
When she smiled, it did not quite
meet her eyes. For a moment Bernie was certain her face metered disappointment,
a touching melancholy before her beautiful features regained their natural
energetic and sunny expression.
Interrupting Bernie's
contemplations, the distinguished host at the head of the table swooped his
glass joyfully proclaiming, “Here's to all my dear friends, and another
mutually successful year, but especially to all the beauty gracing my table.”
Wavy, thick, frosty hair and a
bristly mustache set off Keller's impressive face enhanced by dusky skin and
rosy cheeks.
Sitting erect, his tall,
trim build, resembled an aristocrat.
He
looked vividly alive, glowing with health.
Three fingers of his right hand sported diamond rings each sparkling
rainbow colors as if vying for the limelight.
Nodding in Bernice's direction, he winked and sipped his champagne.
A fleeting surge of shyness brought a flush
to her face and bowed her head.
Three divorces never diminished
Keller's great fortune, nor did it damage his love of women.
At fifty, he possessed the pose and charisma
that flanked him with monotonous, but otherwise gorgeous woman.
Out of the host of ornate females, his violet
blue eyes plucked Bernice.
His expertise
with the opposite sex told him she was different somehow, extremely witty, a
rare beauty, with a beguiling smile, every inch a mature, experienced
woman.
Instantly, he made a mental note
to become better acquainted socially and intimately with the luscious beauty.
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After dining, guests were lead into
a chamber consuming an entire wing of the mansion. Positioned at one end of the
room in a half circle surrounded by walls of glass sat a full orchestra.
Outdoor lights twinkled from an abundance of
trees modeling their barren, gracefully curving branches.
Several sets of French doors stretching the
length of the room on both sides led to a brick patio with matching walls
adorned with ivy.
Gracing the walkway
white, wrought iron seats awaiting lovers.
With no regard to Brad, and to
Bernie’s utter shock, snatching her hand Peter whisked her onto the ballroom
floor to begin the dancing.
Brad stood
surveying the swaying couples; the men - business acquaintances either past or
present, the women - many with whom he had spent a long amorous evening.
Twirling by they smiled, winked, or waved
making him wonder what their husbands reactions would be if they knew the
truth.
Peter and Bernice's antics captured
everyone's attention, except for Brads.
With each dip, twist, and whirl he concentrated on Ted and Sam, Ted's
hands splayed possessively across Sam's buttocks at the base of her spine,
Sam's arms entwined around Ted's neck.
When they kissed, invading fervor brought on an urge for fresh air,
knowing if he continued to watch Sam across the room it would give his heart
away.
Desperate for an escape route he
searched the room, but before reaching the doors, someone clutching his arm
halted his hasty departure.
“You look pretty
lonely standing here all by yourself.
I
wonder if I could ask a favor, friend.
How about dancing with Sam while I attend to business with Keller?”
Sam peered at Ted, her lovely brows colliding
in a look of irritation before a frightened glance met Brad’s stiff smile.
Panic attacked.
Bad idea, Brad thought. “Shouldn't we
approach him together?”
“Hey, I'm a big boy
now, don't forget.
This is something I
have to clear up by myself.
Go on,” Ted
insisted, shoving Brad and Sam onto the dance floor.
Holding Sam at arms-length, with the
barest touch Brad placed one hand on her hip allowing hers to drape in
his.
“I'm warning you, I'm really not
very good at this,” he replied shyly staring into limpid blue eyes
scintillating with a sizable amount of fear.
Sensing Brad's
scrutiny, his caution, Sam found it difficult to meet the sleepy, sensual,
black orbs beaming with great warmth.
“Well, then, that makes two of us.”
Suddenly a waltz spiraled through
the air and like a master, Brad guided Sam around the room as if she were a
feather hovering on swishes of air.
The
music, like an enchanting heat wave moving them closer with each pirouette,
each motion, until his chin brushed the top her head.
His arm encircled her waist.
His hand pressed her to him.
As they spun around his solid leg came
between hers weaving them together like one flowing entity.
A timid veil of intimacy fell
delicately over Sam reminding her she was simply a kid out of school that had
not learned the rules to the game this master played there was no rational
interpretation for the adventure, the sensations budding within.
One minute she wanted to flee, the next she
wished the music would never end.
Her
breath snapped from her by a ride more frightening than any roller coaster,
more thrilling than any Ferris wheel, more daring than anything she had ever
experienced, a magnificent high, a crashing low, a tailspin.
She disregarded, who she was, where she was,
what she was doing.
All her senses and
focus was on the virile man holding her.
Brad
was a maestro at strumming her emotional strings producing melodies she never
knew possible,
melodies composed by the
devil himself.
His weird rhythm of
sinuosity was singing seduction to every part of her body.
Her soul was slipping into his incinerator,
her body becoming chard while she willingly relinquished all the will power she
possessed.
Space, I need to keep space between
us, Brad thought, but when Sam's hand touched his, the warmth conducted bled
through his skin and flamed his insides.
The only drug capable of easing his throbbing pain was to pull her
closer, and closer, knowing each inch of space sacrificed meant addiction, the
only antidote, to have her completely.
A foreboding feeling warned he
should leave New York while an ounce of sanity remained.
Distance would end the pain of looking but
not touching.
He would leave soon, very
soon, maybe tomorrow, but a dreadful, suffocating feeling was telling him the
invisible shackles Sam had already placed upon him would surely follow.
The music ceased.
Applause bursting out rang in the room.
Everyone had paused to admire the magnificent
pair continuing their journey to a melody mutually written.
Cheers and whistles tore at the web Sam and
Brad had weaved around themselves.
Suddenly they were embarrassingly aware they were on center stage.
Graciously, they bowed to their audience,
and quickly exited onto the patio.
Lacy
shadows from the trees outlined their faces as tunelessly they said in unison,
“Thank you.”
Nervously Sam
searched for conversation. “I thought you said you couldn't dance.”
“It's been so long, I thought I'd
forgotten.”
Sparks danced in Brad's
eyes, his words wrenchingly deep and satin smooth. “But then they say it's who
you're dancing with that makes the difference.”
Sam's entire body went tingly and
light as her senses tossed about his innuendo.
Feeling an urgency to change the subject, her voice bobbled frantically
in the face of his hard stare. “What do you think of Bernice tonight?”
“She looks
fabulous.
I'm glad the two of you have
become friends.”