Shades of Trust

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Leibowitz Oil Building

Thursday, March 4, 2010

4:47 p.m.

Sophia’s cell phone vibrated. She looked at her lap and saw Alistair’s number again. She sighed at his third call of the day and her w******p held nine unanswered messages. Her previous meeting had run into this one, she skipped lunch, and still she had no time to return his calls.

This meeting was lasting longer than expected. She quickly scrolled through Alistair’s messages.

12:00 p.m. - Just arrived. Miss you. Call me.

12:37 p.m. - Sarah tells me you’re busy. Call me ASAP.

01:39 p.m. - Still busy? I need to talk to you. Up for a quick lunch?

02:00 p.m. - I’m getting hungry here. What’s the prob?

My God! The man is freaking out.

02:02 p.m. - Aren’t you going to have lunch? You don’t need to diet.

Sophia smiled at that. She lifted her head momentarily as Edward launched into an explanation about the company’s capability, its investment in the Tupi field in Brazil, and the expectations for the field. She flicked her eyes downward again.

02:37 p.m. - I’ve ordered. I need sustenance.

02:41 p.m. - You have to eat something. I like my hands full.

Unbidden, Sophia’s lips twisted, amused.

03:28 p.m. - I’m really worried.

04:09 p.m. - I’m coming over if you don’t text or call me back in 30 mins. Last chance.

Oh, God! How did I miss this? Sophia started to text him back when the intercom buzzed. She frowned, picked up the wireless receiver, and said, “Yes?”

“Could you please come out of that room now that I’m here?” Alistair’s deep, low voice demanded.

Here? For real? Is he insane? She nudged Edward on the shin with the tip of her boot. She motioned that she needed a small break, then whispered into the phone, “I’ll be there in a second. Please ask Sarah to show you to my office.”

“Thank you so much,” Alistair mocked.

“Gentlemen, excuse for a minute.” Sophia rose from her chair at the head of the table. “Mr. Davidoff will continue the meeting.”

She almost ran from the meeting room to her office, waving Sarah’s apologies away.

Alistair stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. He looked out at the view, his hands clasped behind his back, his spine stiff. He spun on his heels when he heard the door opening. His green eyes scorched her through narrowed slits. “What the hell is happening here, Sophia?”

Work. “Are you crazy?” She melted at his sight. How can I be angry with this god? He wore a black three-piece suit with a pristine white Egyptian cotton shirt and a perfectly knotted silk turquoise tie. “What are you doing here?”

Alistair shoved his hands into his pockets and took deliberately slow steps in her direction, taking full measure of her. She had plaited her hair in a stylish side French braid, adorned with coral pins, draping it over her right shoulder. As his eyes wandered down, they widened, and he halted. “Your blouse.”

“What?” She stopped mid-stride and looked down at the front of her black lace blouse. She extended her arms in front of her to see rips or dirt on the sleeves and found nothing. She resumed her steps. “What?”

“It’s…” He had no words to describe her. Ethereal. Bohemian. Exquisite. Whatever! “It’s not appropriate.”

She stopped again, frowning, “Not appropriate? Why?”

“It’s…” He was speechless. He glared at her and squinted. “It…It reveals everything.”

“You need glasses,” she snorted. “It’s a trompe-l’oeil. It has a peach silk lining. You can’t see anything.”

“Still…” His forehead creased and his ink-black eyebrows nearly formed a continuous line as his gaze wandered lower while she walked in his direction. Her black knee-high, calfskin pencil skirt accompanied her black-laced leather boots with stiletto heels.

His lust awoke—Bravo! it shouted, Bravo!—leaving him inarticulate. He advanced on her with one long stride, grabbed her by the neck and the butt, and hauled her onto his body.

“Never,” he breathed into her mouth, “ever wear these clothes again to work.” And slanting her head, he kissed her open-mouthed, his tongue plunging between her lips.

Sophia gasped at the unexpected attack and gripped his biceps to balance herself. A rush of desire came over her with this sudden display of jealousy and possessiveness. She stood on her tiptoes and arched on his body, returning his kiss, thrusting her hands in his hair.

“On second thought,” he lifted his head an inch to stare at her eyes. “You can stay home. Davidoff is very competent.”

“Stay home? Dream on.” A raspy laugh spilled from her throat. He looked troubled, horny, and totally delectable. “What are you doing here, Alistair?”

“Why didn’t you call me back? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Sophia ran her hands over his strong neck and along his broad shoulders. “Around three-thirty.”

“Almost five.” He scowled at her. “I have been trying to reach you since eleven o’clock this morning.”

“I was working,” she offered as an apology. “And I have to return to the meeting.”

“They can wait. I need to talk to you.” His eyes feasted on her as if he couldn’t get enough. “Ten minutes.”

“Can you wait ten minutes? The meeting is ending. I won’t tarry.” Her fingers combed through his hair, loving the silky feel of it. “If you’re free, we could go to The Athenaeum and have tea, scones with Regents Park honey and Honeycomb Marquis,”—She glanced at her Crazy Hours watch, and licked her lips, suddenly hungry—“Mmm in twenty minutes?”

He inhaled a deep breath, his features relaxing. “I’ll wait.”

“Great.” She picked up the phone and directed Sarah to make the booking. “Do you want something? Water, coffee?”

“Just a book or a newspaper.”

“There.” She grabbed his hand and towed him to the shelf behind her desk. She smiled and reached up to brush the back of her fingers over his jaw. “It won’t take longer than fifteen minutes. We’ve covered virtually everything.”

“Don’t linger.” He bent to kiss her lips lightly and tugged her braid, in a playful warning. “Or I’ll have to punish you.” His sensuous devilish smile slowly formed on his face and something dark and perilous glinted in his eyes.

“Hmm,” it was almost a moan. “I think I’ll be late then.”

“Aye, by all means, do.” He looked at his pink gold Audemars Piguet watch and raised both devil-black eyebrows at her. “You’re wasting time, Sophia.”

She whirled, looked over her shoulder at him, a curl on her lips, knowing that her big, clear eyes were betraying her arousal, and exited the room as he hungrily stared at her gentle sway.

Alistair closed his BMW door and swooped her into his embrace, a cautious but intense look on his face. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I do you. I’ve been dying for you all day.”

She blinked at the potent desire in his voice. His hands undid the first buttons of her blouse, one by one, the inferno of his green eyes burning her slowly with anticipation.

His fingers brushed over her neck and glided down to her collarbone. The warm air caressed the upper swell of her breasts encased only in a lacy bra as he brushed the material away and pulled her off the car seat onto his lap. “Just the thought of other men—”

Other men? She put a finger on his lips. “There are no other men.”

He twirled his tongue on her finger and sucked it into his mouth and Sophia’s breath hitched at the pure carnal feeling that washed over her body and gathered between her thighs.

“Only you,” she whispered. What is your problem, Sophia? You need more therapy sessions. You need to tell Dr. Kent about this, too. Another jealous, neurotic, older man! Gabriel, then Ethan, and now Alistair. Sophia lost her line of thought as Alistair kissed her throat and glided his mouth to her breast.

Alistair desperately needed to touch her. The insecurity that had been eating at him all day waned as jealousy loosened its grip on his soul and he felt Sophia’s body surrender to passion under his mouth.

He raised his gaze to peer at her. “You’re so beautiful.” His hand palmed her breast and she hissed in a breath full of passion. “I want all of you, Sophia. I want to make love to you.”

Her eyes closed for a moment before opening again mesmerized by him.

Garrick’s voice interrupted them, “Mr. MacCraig, we’ll arrive at our destination in a minute.”

Sophia scrambled back on the seat, away from Alistair, an alarmed look on her face. She fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, struggling to redo them hastily. “Can he hear us?”

“Nae, of course not, Sophia.” He scowled.

“Does he know what we’re up to back here?” She blushed, ashamed and angry at him, and at herself.

“Nae. Absolutely no’.” A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “It’s just a habit of mine. I work in the car all the time and I don’t like being caught unprepared for any arrival.”

“Hmm,” she answered noncommittally.

He frowned at her. “I’ll never share you with another man, Sophia. Never.”

“But will you share me with another woman?” God! Where did this spring from?

He almost said ‘yes’, but a look on her face prevented it. More mixed signals, Sophia? Does the idea of a threesome appeal to you?

Their arrival at Piccadilly, The Athenaeum saved Alistair from answering as the liveried doorman opened the car door.

I can provide a hot blonde in five minutes and we could go upstairs to a suite, forfeiting tea. His shy ray of sun hid behind the dark clouds. Never let it be said I don’t—

A tug on his sleeve interrupted his lascivious dark thoughts.

“Is everything okay?” Sophia stared at his drawn features with a confused expression.

“Aye, everything is okay.” Stop this. He rocked his neck to one side and then the other, running a hand over his nape to relax the tension then picked up her hand and put it in the crook of his arm. “Just a little tense.”

Sophia raised her eyebrow and glanced away, taking in the beautiful marble hall. Feeling strangely subdued, she said, “I asked Sarah to make the reservations in your name.”

“Thanks,” he answered dryly, lost in his thoughts.

They approached a blonde waiting at the corner of the entrance to the Garden Room. “MacCraig, two people, and we would like a table overlooking the garden, if possible.”

“Sophia.”

Her name, pronounced in a low tone of command, stopped her midway down to her armchair. She looked up.

Alistair motioned with his left hand. “On the sofa, please.” He sat beside her on the plush settee. “We’re ready to order,” he said to the maître, waving the menus away. “I’ll have the Evergreen Tea with Earl Grey. The lady will have the Regent Park Honey Tea.” He closed his menu and looked at Sophia. “What is your choice of tea?”

“Soom,” she told the maître.

“Thank you. Your tea will be here in a few minutes.”

Alistair shifted to better look at Sophia and twirled her long braid with his fingers. His eyes looked troubled.

“Alistair, what’s bothering you?”

“Nothing. Pay me no heed. I had a strange afternoon,” he lied and changed the subject abruptly. “I accepted my father’s invitation to go to Craigdale Castle tomorrow for the weekend. It’s my brother’s birthday. Something small—just family. He doesn’t want a party.”

“Oh, really?” she inquired.

He answered with a small nod.

“I’ll miss you,” she said.”

“Miss me?” He frowned and informed her, succinctly, “You’re going with me.”

She paused, mid-breath. The sentence baffled her. “I. Am. Going?” Is this an order, Alistair Connor? Another one?

“Aye. My father has been pestering me to bring you.” His lips curled up slightly. “Seems that Alice and Leonard have been gossiping.”

“Hmm…” He wants to introduce me to his father and younger brother? She wondered if this was good or bad. “I can’t leave Gabriela this weekend.” Lying now? She felt guilt filling her up. Well, it’s not a lie. Then she acknowledged, aggravated with herself, that she was afraid.

“The thought never crossed my mind. Of course, she’ll come with us.” The tightness of his features lessened when his lips curled in a beautiful smile. “She’s got me wrapped around her little finger.”

She crossed her legs and leaned back on the arm of the sofa away from him, chewing her lips. Her braid fell away from his hand. “I’m not so sure about this.”

“What do you mean?” Alistair felt her withdrawing and became alert. He bent in her direction and recaptured her long braid, this time coiling it securely around his wrist possessively.

“Well…it’s going to be a family gathering. I don’t want to intrude. It’s your brother’s birthday and I—”

She halted as a waiter arrived with the special finger sandwiches of honey roasted ham and caramelized goat’s cheese, baked orange blossom scones, and toasted crumpets with the Regents Park honey, homemade jam, lemon curd, and Devonshire clotted cream.

Sophia’s mouth watered and she licked her lips as their tea was served.

Watching her closely, Alistair almost shuddered with repressed desire. As soon as the waiter left, he prompted her. “You were saying?”

Her thumb and index finger unconsciously caressed the place where her wedding ring should be. “That I’m not going.”

The waiter returned with the rest of their selection and Alistair almost barked at him to go away.

“You’re. Not. Going.” His voice was dark as he scowled at her fingers’ movements. “I don’t understand you, Sophia.”

She tapped her boot nervously on the floor. “It’s too soon—”

“It’s not too soon, Sophia. I’m going. And you’re going with me,” he stated. “Period.”

She sighed and stole a peek at him; he was once again poker-faced, but watching her fingers’ telltale caress.

What should I do? She leaned over to pick up a scone and spread lemon curd on it. She bit into it, turning her face away to look at the garden, avoiding his eyes. For the first time, she felt very much afraid and unsure. Sweet and sour flavors exploded on her tongue, but were lost on Sophia as she debated with herself. He wants to take you to his childhood home. “I have a long day tomorrow.” She wavered in her decision. He has been respecting you so far. A perfect gentleman. He’s doing everything right and you’re still undecided?

He held her braid again and tugged at it, a touch of savagery in it. His green eyes flickered. “I’m sure your boss will allow you to leave early.”

“I’m not free before two o’clock, though,” she ceded. “Is that okay? What time is the flight?”

All of a sudden, Alistair felt a hard slam in his chest where his heart had been lying dead for so long. I’m…happy? Unsettled by the feeling, he leaned in and kissed her, letting desire and lust override the other emotion.

She pushed him away when the kiss got too heated. “We’re in a restaurant.”

“Hidden by curtains,” he said.

“I’d rather you behaved,” she scolded.

“Okay.” He put his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “I can pick up Gabriela and your luggage first, and then you.”

“Thanks. You’re a saint.”

A short laugh escaped his chest. A deep, masculine sound that made her respond with a pleasurable shudder. He curled his fingers under her chin and lifted it, compelling her to look at him. “Beauty. I’ve already told you, I’m not a saint. Not at all. By the way, the two of us are going out tonight. I made reservations for us at nine o’clock.”

“Where?”

“Surprise.” His smile showed that his unpredictable mood had changed.

“Why do men always do this?” She huffed. “How can I dress accordingly if I don’t know where I’m going?”

“Do you want to know the dress code of the restaurant?”

“Sure.”

“It is as beautiful and elegant as Sophia is.”

“You—you—”

He laughed, entirely amused by this woman and her animated expressions. “Yes?”

“Oh, forget it.” Sophia picked up her teacup and sipped. “Just forget it.”