Mills & Boon Introduces: What Lies Beneath / Soldier, Father, Husband? / The Seven-Day Target. Soraya Lane
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past few days, while passing in a blur, had been an exercise in restraint that Will could’ve done without. With the party looming close, Cynthia had become like an art exhibit in the Met. All he could do was admire her from a distance. He’d had a taste of her and he wanted more. With every day that passed by, the need within him built. Abstinence made the heart grow fonder, he mused.
They’d made a ritual of eating breakfast together in the morning before he left for work and she disappeared into her workroom. When he got home, he’d lure her away from the sewing machine for dinner. Once the dishes were cleared, she was back in her office working on her dress, despite his halfhearted attempts to lure her away. He was certain that if he’d been determined he could’ve succeeded, but he understood her drive. This dress was important to her like his paper was important to him. She wanted to do her best, and he didn’t want to distract her.
That didn’t mean he didn’t lie in bed each night listening to the sewing machine whirr and ache to hold her. Fortunately, his celibate streak was coming to an end. Tonight was the party, and Cynthia’s masterpiece would be revealed.
He slipped the last onyx stud through the buttonhole, adjusted his tie and shrugged on his black tuxedo jacket. Will glanced at his reflection in the mirror one last time, but things were as good as they were going to get.
Cynthia, however, had been in her bathroom for over an hour. He’d heard the water run, the blow-dryer and then a long silence where she was doing God knows what. He was glad he didn’t have to worry about makeup and fussy hairstyles. He’d stopped in for a haircut earlier in the week and shaved after his shower, and that was about it.
He glanced at his watch and was pleased that they seemed to be on time so far. A limo would be picking them up downstairs in just a few minutes. Gathering his things, he sat on the couch to wait for her.
It didn’t take long. The clicking of her heels on the hardwood in the hall caught his attention a moment later. Will looked up as she entered the room and nearly choked.
There were really no words for how amazing she looked. He rose to his feet, his mouth open but at a loss for what to say. Apparently that was good enough for Cynthia, who smiled and gave a turn in her gown. The dark green dress shimmered as the light hit the beads. It hugged every curve of her body, the neckline dipping down just enough to give him a luscious view of the swell of her breasts.
Across her bare neck, she wore an emerald necklace he’d bought for her when she’d made partner at her agency. The intricate gold design had nearly twenty emeralds inset into it, with the largest a teardrop that hung tantalizingly into her cleavage.
But none of it sparkled like she did. Her dark hair was twisted up off her neck with gold combs. Wearing her hair back let the pale beauty of her face shine. The matching emerald earrings dangled from each ear and brought out the brilliant green and gold in her eyes. She’d done her makeup perfectly with smoky colors that made her look sexy and mysterious.
She was simply stunning. He knew she worried about not looking precisely like she had before the accident, but her brilliant smile and personality made her glow more radiantly than she ever had before. The doctor had cleared her to remove the brace, so the chunky gold bracelets on her left arm hid the scar. Anyone who met Cynthia for the first time tonight would never know she was anything less than perfection.
“Gorgeous,” he managed with a smile. “And the dress ain’t bad either.”
“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks blushing with the compliment. For the first time he noticed her blush ran down her neck to her chest as well, turning the tops of her breasts an attractive pink color beneath the gold necklace. He wanted to run his tongue along the swell of her rosy flesh and bury his face into the deep valley between them.
Shifting uncomfortably as the fly of his tuxedo pants pressed into his arousal, he decided that focusing on her breasts was probably the wrong tactic if they were going to get through the next few hours. “Are you ready?”
“I am.” Cynthia scooped up a small black purse and her wrap off the table.
Will offered her his arm as they walked out of the apartment and down to the lobby. Alone in the dark, private recesses of the limousine, he said, “You really do look dazzling. It’s going to take everything in my power not to peel this dress off of you before we get to the party.”
She smiled and turned to him. “Do I need to slide over and give you some space?”
“Don’t you dare.” His voice was a low growl as he slipped one arm around her back, the other gliding over her hip to actually press her closer. He wanted to pull her into his lap. To see her lipstick smeared across his stomach. How on earth would he be able to wait four or five hours to have her? He’d quickly become addicted to the woman in his arms.
“Could I offer you a little something to tide you over?”
Will arched an eyebrow at her. “What do you have in mind?”
She smiled and placed a hand on his cheek. “For now, just a kiss. Something to keep in your mind tonight when you’re bored to tears and ready to leave.”
Cynthia lifted her mouth to him. Her lips were soft against his, her mouth opening slightly. She tasted like peaches, he thought, realizing she must have some kind of flavored lip gloss on. It was intoxicating to drink her in as she deepened the kiss and let her silken tongue glide along his own.
He let her take the lead, knowing in his present state of mind, he’d take it too far and ruin Pauline’s plans. He kept his hands firmly around her without roaming. But it was very, very difficult.
All too soon, she pulled away. “You’re going to need more of that peachy stuff,” he said with a strained smile.
“Thanks,” she said, turning to her purse for her compact.
By the time the limo came to a stop outside the hotel, her lips were perfect and shiny and he had quelled the raging erection that wouldn’t allow him to get out of the limo. She’d given him something to think about tonight, all right, but it was too dangerous a thought around all those other people.
Once they reached the party, it was absolute chaos. Dignified, well-dressed chaos, but a ruckus nonetheless. Cynthia’s parents were greeting everyone as they came through the door of the ballroom, and her arrival was the official kickoff of crazy.
Will got the feeling that Cynthia had hoped to slip in unnoticed and get acclimated first, but the chances of that dissolved in an instant when Pauline announced her arrival to the entire room. He could feel her stiffen beside him as she was approached by person after person. They were all very sweet, fully aware of her condition and introducing themselves, but it was still an overwhelming sea of strangers for her. She held a tight grip to his arm, so he knew not to disappear and talk shop with any of the other publishing types he saw milling around the bar. He wasn’t in the mood to do business anyway.
“Oh, Cynthia,” one woman nearly shrieked as she came forward to embrace the reluctant amnesiac. “You look absolutely beautiful, darling. Oh,” she continued on in a chatter when Cynthia stared blankly at her, “I’m sorry, I forgot. I’m Darlene Winters. I work for Trend Now magazine as the senior fashion editor. We’ve worked together for years on ad campaigns for the magazine.”
Cynthia nodded, but he could tell she had a new type of nerves getting to her. A woman like Darlene Winters could kick-start her dreams of designing clothes, and she knew it.
“Let me look at you, darling,” Darlene said, taking a step back. “That dress is absolutely stunning on you. Who are you wearing?”
Cynthia’s mouth came open to speak, but nothing came out. Panic started creeping into her green eyes, so Will stepped in to intervene.
“You are looking at a Cynthia Dempsey original, Darlene. She designed and made this dress herself.”
Darlene didn’t have the kind of face that moved much after years of Botox and facelifts, but even then you could detect the expression of surprise. “Are you