Sidebars Book 1

Chapter 4

Chapter 4The night was over. We’d danced until the club closed, and Portia’s Manhattan and my vodka tonic had become too watered from the melted ice to drink.

I thanked the band and the bartender, helped Portia on with her coat and handed her her purse, and we left, walking arm in arm to where my car was waiting in the Casa del Vitello’s parking lot. And although the lot was empty, I stayed vigilant. I wanted nothing to happen to this lovely woman.

I opened the passenger door, and she lowered herself to the front seat. For a moment I caught a glimpse of stockinged thigh, and then she tugged her skirt down and arranged her legs decorously to the side.

I swallowed, desiring her more than any woman I’d ever encountered. Fortunately, the loose cut of my trousers concealed my arousal.

She leaned across the front seat and pulled up the lock, and this time the material of her coat pulled snug over her backside.

I wished I knew of a local lover’s lane, but even if I had, the hour was too late. It was time to take her home, and we had a long drive ahead of us.

Desire almost overpowered me, and I shuddered and swallowed again, then walked stiffly around to the driver’s side, opened the door, and got in.

* * * *

We were at a stop light, waiting for it to change. On the radio, Dean Martin sang something lush and romantic in Italian.

I glanced across at Portia. Her head rested against the back of the seat, and her eyes were closed, the lashes fanning out against her soft cheek.

“Portia.”

“I’m not sleeping.” She smiled and turned her head toward me.

“Portia.” I’d never felt like this before. A glance in the rearview mirror showed the empty street. I stepped down on the clutch and threw the stick shift into neutral, then reached for her and covered her lips with mine. I couldn’t stop myself from tasting her mouth.

Vaguely I was aware that the stop light must have changed—the light against my eyelids flickered once, twice, three times. I sighed and brushed my lips over her cheek to her ear, nuzzling aside the French twist she wore.

“I have to stop,” I murmured into her hair.

“Do you?”

“The light’s changed three times already.”

“Has it?” I could hear the smile in her voice. “It’s a good thing it’s so late. So early. What time is it, anyway?”

I turned my wrist so a street light would illuminate my watch dial. “Two thirty. Sebring…Tony is going to be unhappy with me.”

“Will it matter? I’m very happy with you.”

“Then no, darling. It won’t matter at all.” I licked my lips. “But if I want to see you again, I’d better get you home now.” I eased her out of my arms and put the car in first gear.

It didn’t take too much longer to get to her apartment house. I parked the car, ran around to open the door for her, and took her elbow.

The elevator operator was drowsing as we got into the elevator. “Morning, folks,” he mumbled. “Floor? Oh, it’s you, Miss Sebring.”

“Good morning, Joe.”

“Another late night at work?” He looked at me with sleepy curiosity, then must have assumed I was simply a colleague seeing her home.

“Mmm.” She didn’t correct his mistaken assumption.

The car rose smoothly, to come to a halt on Portia’s floor.

“You don’t need to walk me to the door, Nigel.” She smiled at me, knowing if the man hadn’t been there I’d have kissed her the entire ride up.

I watched as she walked down the hallway. Sebring wasn’t going to be pleased. Her hair was in disarray and her blouse was only partly tucked into her skirt. There was a run in her hose where the catch on my watch had snagged it.

Portia stood at the door, fumbling in her purse for her key. She glanced over her shoulder at me and smiled again.

And suddenly I couldn’t catch my breath. Was this how it happened?

“Dammit,” I muttered to myself, and, “Wait here,” I told the operator. I stalked toward her, pulled her into my arms, and kissed her. Her lips were soft and pliant under mine. Her purse fell to the floor, and her fingers threaded through my hair, stroked the hollow at the base of my skull, and I growled and deepened the kiss.

Finally, I let her go, running my fingertips over her cheeks. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Her eyes were heavy-lidded and dark, her breath coming in little pants. She touched her lips…her swollen lips, but before I could apologize for bruising them, she brought her fingertips to mine. “Nigel…” Her sigh was voluptuous. “No one’s ever kissed me like that.”

“How?”

“Like he was a starving man.”

“I am, Portia. I’ve been starving for you my whole life, and I never even knew it.”

“Oh, Nigel.” She cradled my cheek.

“You know, I’ve always hated my name. But I love the way it sounds when you say it.” I could almost forgive my father for saddling me with it.

She smiled into my eyes. “Nigel.”

I brushed my lips over hers. “You’re wearing Tabu, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Tony gave it to me for Christmas. Should I be alarmed that you’re familiar enough with the fragrance that you recognize it?”

“No.” It didn’t surprise me he had given her a perfume favored by older women, and I had no doubt if I asked her, Portia would tell me she wore it because he’d asked her to. “You wear it better than anyone I know. But…”

“But?”

I knew a woman who created unique fragrances. If I had her make one for Portia, would Portia consent to wear it?

It was a very personal gift, perhaps too personal for a lady, and Portia Sebring was every inch a lady.

Still, a man could dream.

I pressed her palm to my mouth and kissed it, then drew her close to me. “Keep tomorrow night available for me.” I couldn’t resist nibbling the column of her throat, and I hoped she’d take her time answering, but finally she sighed her agreement, and I had to press a final kiss to her lips. “Good night, darling. Sleep well, and dream of me.”

“Darling.” She realized her purse was on the floor, but fortunately, all that had spilled out were a coin purse and a lipstick. I stooped to gather them up and put them in her purse, and returned it to her. She smiled at me once again before letting herself into the apartment she shared with her oldest brother.

Only you, Portia Sebring. I smoothed my hair down and went back to the elevator. The operator was studiously examining the design in the carpeting.

“Thanks for waiting.”

“You’re welcome, sir. Nice to see Miss Sebring having a life outside of work.”

“Mmm.”

The doors slid shut, and the elevator descended.

I got out on the ground floor. “Good night, Joe.”

“‘Night, sir.”

It would be a lonely drive home, where a lonely bed awaited me, but tomorrow—or rather later this morning—I’d see Portia again, and later in the evening as well. What would she like to do? Dinner and dancing again? Only this time somewhere close by, where afterward we could visit the local lover’s lane?

I took my car keys from my pocket, tossed them in the air and caught them, and began whistling softly as I walked to my car.

* * * *

I whistled “It Had to Be You” all the way home. I whistled it while I changed out of the clothes I’d worn all day and into a pair of pajamas and hummed it while I brushed my teeth.

When the alarm went off a few hours later, rousing me from a dream unlike any I’d ever had before, the words were still running through my mind.

I showered, shaved, and changed into a fresh suit for the day, and continued to hum as I made a pot of coffee and fried some bacon and eggs. My stepmother’s cook had taught me the rudiments, and while I wasn’t the world’s best cook, I didn’t starve.

As I dipped a strip of toast into the egg yolk, I considered sending flowers to Portia. I had an account with a local florist—my father had beaten into me the necessity of sending flowers to my stepmother on various occasions, but most importantly on Mother’s Day.

When I arrived at work, I’d—

A glance at the clock showed me I was going to be late unless I hurried. I folded the last strip of bacon into my mouth, washed it down with the rest of my coffee, and left the plate and cup soaking in the sink.

* * * *

I had no sooner removed my overcoat and unlocked my desk when I was summoned to Tony Sebring’s office. I smoothed a hand over my hair and went to face him. Was he going to take me to task for keeping his sister out so late the night before?

I nodded to his secretary and let myself into his office. “You sent for me—”

I found myself shoved back against the door, Sebring’s forearm pressing against my throat.

“You son of a b***h,” he snarled. “I ought to tear your c**k off.”

I had training in self-defense, and I could have hurt Sebring in more ways than he realized. Instead, I raised my knee and gently nudged the V of his thighs, making him aware of just how vulnerable his position was at that moment.

He froze.

“Let me go, please.”

He growled but released me.

“Now, suppose you tell me what caused this reaction?”

“You were supposed to take my sister to dinner. She arrived home last night looking as if she’d been mauled.” He retreated behind his desk and glowered at me.

“I apologize for that. Frankly, I lost my head.”

“Are you saying it’s her fault?”

“Good God, of course not.” A sudden thought occurred to me. “Did Portia complain of my treatment of her?”

He met my gaze, his lip curled. “No. But I don’t want you seeing her again.”

“Is this what Portia wants?” My breakfast threatened to reappear. I took the seat across from him and allowed Mr. Freeze to envelope me.

“Portia is a Sebring. She’ll do whatever is best for the family, for the country.”

“Has Portia said in so many words she doesn’t wish to see me again?”

“No. But there’s something you should know about Sebrings—we only love once.”

“Are you saying Portia is in love with someone else?”

“No, I’m saying you’re not her one.”

“And you know this…how?”

“She isn’t in love with you,” he insisted. “And there’s no possibility she’ll ever be in love with you.”

Of course. Who would love Mr. Freeze?

“And how will your father view your interference in his plans for her?”

Sebring turned red. “That interfering old—Damn him, and damn you.”

I simply raised an eyebrow.

“Very well,” he gritted out. “But if you hurt her in any way—”

“I believe we had this conversation once before.”

“Just keep your c**k in your pants.”

“Do me a favor, Sebring. Stay out of it from now on. You’re not helping matters.” I rose from the chair. It would be smart at this time not to bait the bear.

I returned to my office and sat behind my desk, drumming my fingertips on the blotter. Finally, I reached for the phone and called the florist. “I want three dozen red roses delivered to Arlington Hall.”

So much for my intention of not baiting the bear. The flowers would mean nothing more to Portia than a thank you for being such a lovely dinner companion, but three dozen—they would drive her brother insane.

* * * *

There was a tap on my office door. “Come in,” I called.

The door opened, and Portia entered, holding a single red rose.

“Portia.” I stood.

She smiled at me. “I wanted to thank you for the beautiful roses.”

“You’re welcome.” The stack of papers on my desk didn’t need straightening, but I picked them up and straightened them anyway. In spite of her brother’s warning, my c**k was very much at attention. “Was there anything else?”

“Yes.” She came around my desk, hoisted herself up onto it, and crossed her legs. They were encased in silk, and I gripped the papers more firmly to keep from reaching out and stroking her shapely calves and ankles.

Reluctantly I withdrew my gaze from her legs and met her blue eyes. “Yes?”

Her smile broadened, and she snapped off the rose’s stem. “I’m looking forward to having dinner with you again.”

“Tonight?”

“Of course. You invited me last night. Or was it this morning?”

“I did, didn’t I?” I smiled down at her, forgetting her brother, her father, the non-existent “one” to whom I would one day lose her.

She leaned forward and for a second I thought she was going to kiss me. She wouldn’t, not while we were at work. Instead, she threaded the rose into the button hole of my lapel, all the while humming the song we’d danced to the night before. “Tonight would be lovely.” She smoothed her palms over my lapels, then smiled once more, eased off my desk, and left my office, the sway of her hips drawing my gaze to her backside.

Abruptly I recalled the dream I’d awakened from—of Portia and a home and a little boy.

In spite of being Mr. Freeze, could it be mine?

I drew in a breath. Why not?

I sat down at my desk, and as I smoothed out my papers, I began whistling “It Had to Be You.”

Chasing RainbowsThis begins in 1958 and covers the years from then until 2002. To my knowledge, John Wayne and Louis L’Amour never gave interviews about Hondo. Well, not these particular interviews. This was written for Gail’s birthday, 2/25/06, which happens to be Vincent’s birthday also.

* * * *