The Determined Groom

He stood up, rubbing his hands together, searching the ragged line of trees and brush for some sign of her. He checked his watch. Barely ten minutes had passed. It felt like ten hours.

He stared out at the water again, his hands on his hips. The sound and motion of the surf was a soothing distraction, calming him a bit.

Finally, he heard her soft footsteps on the sand behind him. He spun around just as she stood about an arm’s length away. Still dressed in her glamorous gown, she’d removed all her jewelry—including her engagement ring, he noticed—and her shoes. She’d also removed the dressy clip that had held back the side of her hair, and her wavy golden mane was now blown back from her face by the breeze off the ocean.

He didn’t say a word. Couldn’t speak. He stepped toward her and cupped her bare shoulders in his hands. He pressed his cheek against her hair, breathing in the rich, flowery scent of her hair and skin. Laurel moved smoothly into his embrace, her arms looping around his waist, her soft, full breasts pressed to his chest.

She stirred against him, murmured his name, and his arms moved down to encircle her, gripping her tightly to him. For a moment, Connor felt as if he might explode.

Then his hands went up to her hair and he lifted her face to his. Her eyes were huge, liquid blue, dark as the sea and churning with longing, a hunger to love and be loved. He felt her run her hands along the hard planes of his back as if to confirm the message that her eyes had already so eloquently expressed.

They had talking to do. They had important things to discuss, to decide. He needed to keep his head, act responsibly. Honorably. He didn’t want Laurel to have regrets. Recriminations. He couldn’t stand it if she ended up feeling that way.

He gazed down at her. About to say something. Anything. And yet, no words came. Finally, his head dipped to the irresistible lure of her moist, red lips. Their mouths met and merged, his kiss questioning at first. Then, as he felt her eager response, the kiss quickly deepened to a passionate expression of all Connor felt for her. And all Laurel felt for him.

Her hands glided over his muscular chest and shoulders, then around to his back again, boldly caressing him. Connor answered in kind, sweeping his hands down the curves of her lithe form, from her shoulders to her hips, then back up again, to gently cup her breasts, circling the hardened tips with the pads of his thumbs. Laurel’s kiss felt wild against his mouth for a moment before she softly moaned with pleasure, her body sagging helplessly against him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in a husky voice. “You take my breath away.”

Moments later, they dropped onto the sand. As their kisses grew wilder and even more intense, Connor cushioned Laurel’s head with one strong arm, the other stroking her from hip to thigh. His mouth moved from her lips, down the column of her throat and across the silky skin exposed by the low neckline of her gown. With his fingertip and tongue he teased and tasted the sensitive flesh at the top of her cleavage and soon had loosened the zipper at the back enough to pull the fabric down, exposing her breasts to his passionate touch.

He felt Laurel’s fingers moving through his thick hair as his mouth covered one rosy, sensitive nipple. She moaned and stirred under him, pressing her hips provocatively against his. He was sure that she must have felt his readiness for her, his throbbing need to make them one. He took a deep, ragged breath and lifted his head to look down at her. Her eyes were half-closed, dazed with passion, her gorgeous face flushed, her glorious hair splayed out around her head like a cloud of spun gold.

“Laurel. Darling,” he whispered. He kissed her lightly and then swallowed hard. “If you want me to stop, now’s the time to say it.”

She framed his face with her cool, soft hands and looked deeply into his eyes. “I want you, Connor. I want to make love with you. Please.”

His pulse beat madly out of control as her words penetrated his fevered brain. Her thrilling caresses had set a fire burning inside him that burst out of control. He struggled to repress an instinctive impulse to plunge himself into her body at his next breath. As he held still above her, trying to slow himself down, her fingers nimbly opened his shirt buttons and he felt her warm mouth moving over his chest, kissing him, tasting him, her warm, wet tongue swirling around his sensitive nipple.

He felt his body shudder and he moved to rest on his side in the sand, as Laurel’s caresses moved lower, her mouth tenderly exploring his flat abdomen, her hands caressing his chest and then his thighs. He felt her unfasten his belt and the top of his pants, then felt her hand slip inside his pants to cup and caress his male hardness, stroking him until he thought he’d cry out with the unbearably intense pleasure of her touch.

When Connor knew he could stand no more of her seductive caresses, he raised himself above her again, his hand sliding up under her gown, up her smooth, strong leg. His fingertips found the lacy edge of her panties and his fingers slipped inside, seeking and finding her slick velvety warmth. He could feel that she was more than ready for him. But he wanted to make this perfect for her, he wanted to thrill her in a way no other man ever had before.

His fingers expertly stroking the peak of her pulsing womanhood, Connor was alert to the slightest shift of her body, the slightest change in her breathing, eager to please her, to touch her exactly as she wanted. His mouth moved again to her breast, sucking and soothing her nipples. Laurel fell back against the sand, sighing and writhing with pleasure as his masterful loving pushed her higher and higher. She gripped his powerful shoulders, her hips thrusting up to meet the lovingly slow strokes of his hand.

He felt her shiver and press her face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. She took a deep, shuddering breath and pressed herself close to him.

“Connor, please. Come to me,” she said. “I can’t wait anymore.” With her hands on his hips, she gently urged his body to cover her own.

“Neither can I, sweetheart,” he whispered. With his mouth pressed to her own, Connor hastily pushed her gown up over her hips and settled between her thighs. Moments later, he made their bodies one.

He heard Laurel’s sharply indrawn breath and felt her body tense, then tremble in his arms. He held very still, kissing her hair until he felt her relax again beneath him. When he began to move slowly inside her, he heard her moan deep and low at the back of her throat, but it was a sound of pure pleasure and it thrilled him, inspiring him to move even deeper, to give her even more.

Their bodies moved as one in an ageless rhythm, an echo of the steady pounding of the waves against the shoreline. Connor thrust faster and deeper, every sigh and movement of Laurel’s hips rising to meet his own, driving him wild with passion for her.

She was indescribably beautiful, unique and precious, the rarest treasure he’d ever know. As he brought her to a climax of pleasure and felt himself reaching his own, some dim, distant part of his mind felt as if this moment of complete possession had not served to satisfy one single drop of his hunger for her. To the contrary, to love her, to hold and have her this way had opened a door in his heart, or even his soul, that had been long left locked and sealed. But now it stood open, leading to a road of limitless longing for her—a need for her that would never be satisfied, never sated.

Just as he heard Laurel’s cries of ecstasy as she reached her peak, he felt himself topple over the edge. He shuddered in her arms and felt her tremble beneath him. Their mouths merged in a deep, devouring kiss as Connor moved within her with one last powerful thrust. He felt her shiver and grip him close, hearing her call his name as her body clenched around him, and they cleaved together in the ultimate of intimacy, as close as two beings could ever be.

Some time later, Connor and Laurel sat together in a close embrace, leaning back on the driftwood log. He had covered her with his suit jacket and then wrapped her possessively in his arms. Her head rested on his chest, tucked below his chin, her arms loped around his waist as he stroked her hair.

He stared up at the stars, still too moved to speak. Finally he said, “Tell me you won’t marry Todd Parson. I don’t think I could stand it if you did.”

“No, I can’t marry him,” Laurel agreed softly. She looked up at him and touched her hand to his cheek. “Right now, I can’t even remember why I wanted to.”

Two

Seven years later

Laurel glanced at the small gold clock on her desk. Nine thirty-three. Barely two minutes had passed since she’d last checked, though somehow, it felt like two hours. Connor Northrup was due to arrive at ten o’clock. She would not go down to the meeting room until then.

She felt the flurry of butterflies churning her stomach and tried to ignore it. She turned her attention to her desktop, piled with papers, and tried to focus on the task at hand, trying to determine if Sutherland Enterprises should sue a supplier who had failed to keep to the terms of their contract.

Laurel flipped open a folder of correspondence and tried to concentrate on the stack of letters. Some were quite old, dated up to five years ago and signed with her former married name, Laurel Parson.

She didn’t like to be reminded of her marriage. She felt a wave of sadness, futile sadness, actually. When her friends and family had heard the story of Todd’s infidelity, they had naturally rushed to support her, to make Todd out to be the villain of the piece.

But Laurel knew better. It took two to make a mess of a marriage and she had played her part.

The truth was, she should have never married Todd in the first place.

The truth was, she had been unfaithful to him even before they’d spoken their vows.

One clear-cut act of betrayal with her body, on a moonlit beach—and after that, years of betrayal in her heart, believing herself to be irrevocably in love with a man who had simply used her to fulfill some long-simmering fantasy. A man who had promised her the world, and asked—no, demanded—that she turn her entire world upside down for him with a snap of his fingers.

Then…nothing. Not a word. Not a card. Not a single phone call.

So, she had gone through with her marriage, come back to reality, she thought. Fulfilled her promises, her responsibility, though she knew all along her heart wasn’t in it. And, unfortunately, neither was the rest of her body, she reflected. For although she had given herself to Connor with bold abandon, she’d never responded to Todd with anything close to that degree of passion and sensuality.

Todd had accused her of being cold. Frigid. That was the reason he’d needed to wander. It was really all her fault, according to Todd. She’d accepted the accusation without argument, for how could she dare explain why she knew it wasn’t true? Besides, she did feel guilty about her lack of passion for him. About the light of love that had burned in her heart for another man, for so many years, unseen and unrequited.

Yes, discovering Todd’s affair had been painful and humiliating. But the pain had been nothing compared with the sense of loss and betrayal she’d felt, the humiliation of being played for a fool, when Connor Northrup had used her for a one-night stand.

What other explanation was there for what had happened? If Connor Northrup had the nerve to offer one, she knew she’d refuse to believe it.

She had almost expected to see him at her father’s funeral two years ago. But Connor had been traveling on business at the time and had sent a note of sympathy along with a staggering arrangement of flowers. Her father had adored Connor. Taken a deep interest in him as a boy and helped him fulfill his potential as a young man. After Connor entered the work world, Charles had kept in touch with him, bragged about his successes as if Connor had been his own son. Sometimes she thought he liked him even more than Phillip.

Why should it matter so much after all this time? Laurel shook her head, silently scolding herself. She should know better by now. She should at least act as if she did. And, in about ten minutes, she would do exactly that. She would act as if it didn’t matter and had never mattered to her, in fact. She would put on such a convincing show of cool, polite, businesslike persona that even Connor Northrup would not dare to bring up the past.

She dreaded this meeting. She had dreaded this day ever since Laurel had learned that the firm that handled Sutherland’s annual audit had merged with a group of financial analysts headed by Connor Northrup. But now it had come—the day that they would meet again, face-to-face.

She remembered how handsome he was. Remembered much too well, in fact. She knew it was mean of her, but she hoped he’d lost his hair, or gotten a big potbelly. Or both. It had been seven years since she’d seen him. Anything could have happened. He might be married, with ten kids, for all she knew. She found herself frowning at the thought, then shook her head.

Laurel gave up on trying to review the old letters and pushed the pile of papers back into the folder. She rose from the desk and walked into the private bathroom that adjoined her office. She rinsed her hands, then quickly checked her appearance. Just as I would do before any other meeting of this kind, Laurel assured herself. She was not making any special effort for Connor Northrup. Still, she could not help wondering if he would find her appearance changed. She knew she had changed since that summer night years ago. People remarked on it. Or held themselves back from remarking on it, she had noticed.

Her body was basically the same—if anything she’d gotten a bit thinner. The expensive, high-style navy blue suit she had chosen for today with its sleek, severe cut certainly made her look model thin. The color complemented her fair hair. Her hair was still long, though she rarely wore it down anymore, and certainly not at the office. Today it was swept up in a sophisticated style. Her pearl earrings added to the elegant, businesslike image.

Her eyes—which Connor had once rhapsodized over—were still blue, she noted with a wry smile. But she was older and wiser and it showed, she knew. The sparkle was gone, replaced by a certain accepting dullness. Maturity, some might call it. But at that moment, Laurel wondered if it couldn’t more accurately be called cynicism. Bitterness. The shadow of vain hopes.

Silly thoughts. Useless thoughts, really. She couldn’t let Connor guess that she had any feelings about seeing him at all. After all, she did have her self-respect.

She’d never worn much makeup. Never needed to, and now, even when a bit of blush or concealer for the shadows under her eyes might have helped, she didn’t want to bother. She applied fresh lipstick in a brisk, efficient motion and snapped the tube closed.

She was as ready as she’d ever be. She checked her watch. Five to ten. Time to head down to the conference room near Phillip’s office.

Laurel grabbed her leather-bound notepad and a pen off her desk. When she left her office, she gave instructions to her assistant, Emily, then headed down the long hallway. The dark green carpeting was thick and her steps were nearly soundless.

It was almost a relief to get it over with, Laurel reflected. She hoped that Connor would keep the discussion brief and focused on business matters. Business matters he clearly thought were urgent, but didn’t see fit to illuminate or explain when he’d called Phillip last night to arrange this meeting.

Something having to do with the company’s annual outside audit, she assumed. The audit that was reported each year to Sutherland Enterprises’s board of directors. She knew it was presently taking place, but hadn’t heard of any significant problem or questions. Phillip hadn’t mentioned any.

At least she wouldn’t be alone with him. Phillip would be there. Recalling how Connor and her brother got along about as well as oil and water, she wondered if Phillip’s presence would be any help. He would, at the very least, deflect some of Connor’s attention.

After her father’s death, Phillip had been named CEO and taken over the helm. Even Laurel had to admit that he had not been doing a stellar job in the post, despite the fact that he had been groomed for years for the role, Laurel reflected as she boarded the elevator and punched the button for the ninth floor.

Phillip was not a good manager and was often quite impulsive, without enough patience to learn about all the facts and consider them carefully before making important decisions. Phillip was shrewd, Laurel thought, but not truly intelligent. Certainly not wise about people, as her father had been, which to Laurel was the essence of running any business, really.

It was all a soft soap, diplomatic way of saying that Phillip was not up to the job. And the financial health of the company would eventually suffer. Had already suffered, she feared. But it was a demanding position. She truly hoped that it was merely a matter of time before her brother grew into his role.

Laurel got off the elevator and walked down to the conference room near her brother’s large corner office. When she opened the door, she was surprised to find that Phillip was already there, waiting. Like some reigning monarch, it was usually his habit to make everyone assemble for a meeting and have them sit waiting for him before he swept in and took his seat at the head of the table.

But there he was, waiting for Connor Northrup. Like a boy who had misbehaved, waiting for the principal, was Laurel’s immediate impression. But that was silly. Why should Phillip feel nervous about meeting with Connor? She was the one who had reason to feel nervous. If anything, Phillip should feel he had the upper hand in such a meeting.

“Laurel, there you are. I was just about to call your office,” Phillip said as she walked in. “Come in. Come in,” he urged her. “Don’t forget to shut the door.”

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