CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Claire had a restless night. She dreamed of the tender kiss she and Gray had briefly shared. She dreamed of him walking away as she cried for him.

When she got up Sunday morning she was still unable to decide if he wanted friendship from her or something more personal. At times the intense way he’d look at her would cause her body to yearn even as her knees grew weak, her heart to pound. She didn’t know if she was letting herself in for heartache or if she’d even stop the ever increasing awareness of him if she could.

Seeing Lorraine and Hamilton at church, the unmistakable sadness in both their faces showed her that love wasn’t always enough to ensure a couple’s happiness. So where did that leave her and Gray? She was pondering that question when she saw the black Porsche parked in front of her house.

Her foot automatically pressed on the accelerator. Gray sat on the middle step, his elbows propped on the wide porch as he leaned back. He waved and came to his feet as she passed. She almost ran off the road into one of the many palmetto trees dotting the island. She quickly corrected and pulled into her driveway and got out. No way was she taking time to put the car in the garage as she usually did.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He was dressed casually again, in light brown walking shorts and a yellow Polo shirt. On his long, narrow feet were leather sandals. “I hope you don’t mind my waiting for you.”

“No. I’d love the company. You can join me for dinner,” she said, trying to keep her words from rushing out, glad she was able to give him a reason for staying for a while.

“I’d like that.”

“Come on in.”

Inside she went directly to the kitchen. She’d never been more thankful that she’d grown up in the habit of fixing Sunday dinner before leaving for church. “I’ll have it on the table in a minute.”

“Can it wait?”

Claire glanced around from setting the baked chicken on the rack on the counter. He looked so serious. “Yes.”

“It’s about the other day when you came to my office.” He went to her.

“You were busy,” she recalled, trying to determine where the conversation was going.

His hands settled on her waist. “I was hiding from the first woman I can’t get out of my mind.”

If he hadn’t been touching her so gently, his eyes staring into hers with such tenderness, she might have cried out in pain. “Do you want to get her out of your mind?”

“No. I may be slow, but I’m not that big of a fool,” he said. “I’m not hiding any longer.”

A sigh of relief rushed over Claire’s lips as she allowed her body to sink more heavily against his. Her arms went around his neck. “I have one better. You’re the first man in my life. Period.”

Closing his eyes, Gray leaned his forehead against Claire’s. “I figured that out. You have an honestness that sets you apart from other women. You look for the good in people. You have no built-in defenses.”

“With you I won’t need them,” she happily told him.

His arms tightened around her. “Don’t trust me too much, Claire.”

She might be naïve, but she wasn’t stupid. “I know you won’t be here forever, but having you for a little while far outweighs never having you as a part of my life. I’ll take it for as long as it lasts.”

His face lost none of its harshness. “You shouldn’t have to settle.”

She brushed her lips across his chin, and was elated to feel his body shudder. “I don’t plan to settle. Do you?”

His mouth took hers. Claire thought she would be prepared for their first real kiss. She’d dreamed, fantasized, but nothing compared to the rush of heat, of desire, that swamped her. His mouth claimed hers in the most primitive, erotic way. His tongue boldly mated with hers, causing her to shiver, to press closer, to want more, to demand more. His hand swept down her back then up again as if to reassure himself she was really in his arms.

He lifted his head a long time later. The sound of their ragged breathing filled the room. “I’ve never been one to settle.”

Claire’s eyelids fluttered upward. “That makes me very happy.”

Gray chuckled and held her closer. “I’m going to enjoy getting to know you.”

“Not as much as I am.” She kissed him again.

*   *   *

Claire was definitely going to be a problem, but Gray looked forward to every moment. Whether testing his control with her soft kisses or looking at him through a sweep of her dark lashes, she made him want to keep her happy and safe, then take her to the nearest bed. He’d never had such a wide range of emotions for a woman before or dated one who was so determined to be independent. Claire might not mind asking for help, but then she wanted you to stand back. That wasn’t always possible.

“I want you to take this until you have time to get one,” he said Sunday night before he was about to leave. He’d let her walk him outside in order to give it to her. “I realize how busy you are. I kept you from getting one yesterday and with getting ready for the pre- and grand opening you might not have time to do it yourself.”

She took one look at the cell phone box in his hand and her smile faded. “Gray, I thank you, but I’ll get my own phone.”

He’d eat dirt rather than embarrass her. “I know that. Livingston just upgraded and we’re donating the old ones to shelters, so there’s no reason for you not to have one,” he said, which was the truth. He didn’t think she’d accept one of the newer models.

“I’m not taking the phone.” She folded her arms. “Please, let’s drop the subject.”

He would have argued if he thought she’d change her mind. “I’ll worry about you.”

“Don’t.” She stepped forward and curved her arms around his waist. “I’m careful, and John takes good care of my car.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll have to thank him when I see him again.”

She nibbled on his lower lip. “I’m trying to get him to come to the pre-opening Thursday night.”

Gray’s breath hitched as the tip of her tongue slid into his mouth. “Keep doing that and we’re going back inside.”

“Promise.” Her hot tongue slid inside his mouth. He grabbed her and held her close. Claire was a fast learner.

*   *   *

“This is the beginning. A Night of Bliss,” Lorraine said, as she stood in a circle clasping Brooke and Claire’s hands Thursday night. All three wore the signature colors of Bliss: Lorraine in a black pure silk organza, embellished rajah tunic intricately embroidered with red threads, with a silk taffeta sleeveless shell and matching pants; Claire in the black, strapless gown with a blood red rose in full bloom at the waist; while Brooke opted for a red jersey gown with black chain straps and feather trim around the hem.

“I’m so nervous. I didn’t sleep at all last night.” Claire found it difficult to stand still. The only times in the last few days that she hadn’t been worried were when Gray had been with her or kissing her. Thank goodness he visited almost every day after work.

“If only my family comes, they’ll fill up the place,” Brooke commented, but her laugh was a bit strained.

After a brief knock on the swinging doors, Gray stuck his head inside. “Ladies, your guests have started arriving.”

Gray moved aside as the three women hurried past him. Perhaps now Claire would stop worrying. He’d put in a few calls himself to ensure the success of the night. He was determined that Claire would have her chance.

“They’ll be bankrupt within six weeks,” Hamilton muttered, a few feet away from Gray.

Those were the first words the other man had said since he’d arrived thirty minutes ago. Gray didn’t know why he was so set against his wife’s business venture. Gray had heard of Hamilton and seen him at a couple of business functions, but had never met him. “If the number of women coming through that door is any indication, I’d have to disagree with you.”

“It’s just the novelty of the shop and the risqué promotion.” Hamilton shoved his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo. “It will wear off and Lorraine will come to her senses and come home.”

Now Gray understood Hamilton’s problem. He’d made it a habit never to interfere in other people’s business, especially married people, but he liked and admired Lorraine. “I wouldn’t count on that. This is more than some little hobby to them. They’ve worked darn hard and from the jingle of the cash register, they’re succeeding. They have a right to be proud and I’m proud of them.”

“That’s easy for you to say. Claire isn’t your wife. You don’t have to fix your own meals or come home to an empty house.” Hamilton shook his head as a waiter offered canapés. “I want my life back to the way it used to be. I want my wife back.”

Gray watched Lorraine, a glow on her face, assist a matronly woman in selecting bath products. His mouth twitched when he saw they were at the BTS display.

“I’ve never seen her like this.”

Gray heard the fear, before he saw it in the other man’s face. “The way I see it, you don’t have much choice. Accept the new direction her life is taking her or try to stop her and risk losing her.”

Hamilton gave one emphatic shake of his head. “I won’t lose her and I won’t accept this.”

Gray had said all he planned to on the matter. “Excuse me. Some of my family just arrived.” He moved through the growing crowd to his grandmother and her oldest daughter. He kissed his grandmother on the cheek. She looked lovely in an opalescent blue jacket framed with sequined flowers over a sleeveless shell and skirt. No one defied his grandmother. “Thanks for coming and bringing Marcia.”

“It wasn’t difficult,” his grandmother replied with an indulgent smile. “All I had to do was let Marcia sample my lotion. For once, she was ready when the car arrived.”

“I want some of everything,” Marcia said, glancing around, looking attractive and much younger than her fifty-eight years in a gold Yves Saint Laurent gown that complimented her flawless golden brown skin and dark brown eyes.

Gray had expected as much. Marcia was a shopaholic. That’s why he’d specifically asked his grandmother to bring her. Her husband, who owned three charter boats, adored her and could afford her passion for shopping. “Let me take you to meet Claire first.”

He ignored the shared glances between mother and daughter, took their arms, and led them to Claire who was with two customers by the candles. “All of our candles are hand poured, made of soy wax so there are no animal products. The wick is cotton, not lead, and will burn for sixty hours. This scent is Winter Gardenia.”

“I just can’t decide,” the woman said, picking up another candle scented with jasmine.

“Take your time.” Claire saw Gray with his aunt and grandmother out of the corner of her eye. “If I can be of further assistance, you only have to ask.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Livingston. Mrs. Wainwright.” Claire extended her hand. “I’m so pleased you could come.”

“Hello, Claire,” Mrs. Livingston greeted her. Taking Claire’s hand the older woman continued, “Bliss is lovely. Your parents would be very proud of you.”

Pleasure went through Claire. “Thank you. Have you had a chance to look around?”

“Not yet,” Gray’s aunt said. “I’m not sure where to start.”

“I can definitely attest that the candles are hand poured,” Gray said, easily stepping beside Claire and curving his arm around her waist. “Claire almost splattered me while she was working.”

Claire smiled at the memory. “If you’d allow me, I’ll grab a basket and show you around.”

“Gray can do that, can’t you, dear?” his grandmother said with asperity.

Their gazes met, then he brushed a kiss to Claire’s forehead. “Be back in a second.”

Claire didn’t know what to do. His grandmother knew she was his protégée, and the hug could be between friends. The kiss said something entirely different. She clasped her hands in front of her.

“Don’t let Gray embarrass you, dear. The kiss was to tell me to go easy on you, and if I didn’t we’d have a discussion later neither one of us would like very much,” Mrs. Livingston said frankly.

Claire blinked.

“Entirely unnecessary. I’ve always admired you. Now,” she opened her small beaded purse in the shape of a bee and pulled out a sheet of heavy vellum paper. “I’d like to get these items for myself, and Gray’s mother wanted a few things. They’re listed below mine.”

“Don’t forget about me,” Marcia said. “Where is the Honeysuckle Soufflé moisturizing cream?”

Claire glanced at the list, then back at Gray’s grandmother. There were at least twenty products on the list and some had quantities of two or three listed next to them. She didn’t want to insinuate that Mrs. Livingston was trying to patronize her because of Gray, but she also wanted the business to succeed on its own merit. “The recommended shelf life is six months.”

“I brought a couple.” Gray rejoined the group with two of the handled sweetgrass baskets.

“I’ll take mine,” Marcia said, and promptly put two candles inside.

“Mrs. Livingston,” Claire began cautiously. “There are a lot of products on this list. Some are duplicates.”

“Will you have trouble filling it?” Mrs. Livingston asked, adding a candle to the basket Gray held.

“No,” Claire said, then decided not to beat around the bush. “I don’t want you to buy the products just to help Bliss, but because you want them.”

Mrs. Livingston held out her hand. “Please, may I have the list back?”

“Yes, ma’am.” There went a hefty sale.

Gray’s grandmother studied it for a moment then went through the list, reciting aloud the names of the people she was buying the products for. Some of the names Claire recognized as the servants who worked at the Livingston mansion. “As I thought, it is correct. You may not remember, but I like to do little things for people while they can enjoy them.”

“I don’t, but I do remember my parents thought very highly of you, of the whole Livingston family.”

“The feeling was mutual.” She handed the list to Claire. “If you could give us a bit more of your time, I’d appreciate it.”

“I’d be honored.” Claire reached for the basket Gray held. “I’ll fill the order from the back.”

“Why don’t I go with you?” Gray’s eyes twinkled.

“You’ll only distract me.” Surprising herself and him, she kissed him on the cheek, removed the basket from his lax fingers, and walked away.

“Well,” his grandmother said. “I do believe little Claire has grown up.”

*   *   *

Brooke’s close-knit family turned out as she’d known they would. They’d driven from Columbia and Myrtle Beach for her big night and bless their hearts, they’d brought their platinum cards. Besides her parents, her favorite uncles and the cousins from her mother’s side showed up.

Of course she’d been apprehensive about them seeing the pictures, but after she explained the marketing plan, they’d seemed to take it in stride. Especially when she told them there would be no more photos and how they had created a buzz for the store. They had always been supportive of her.

“Brooke, this bill is wrong,” her mother said, peering at the receipt her daughter had just given her. Delicate, like her daughter, she looked beautiful in a seafoam jacket trimmed with sequins on the double-ruffle collar and cuffs, with a long skirt repeating the double-ruffled hem. A registered nurse, she had a mind like a calculator. Brooke had gotten her mathematical skills from her mother. “Early Christmas gift. Mama, I love you, but there’s a line of customers behind you.”

“Well, you better run my credit card back through again or I’m not moving. You have a business and two other partners to consider.” She held out her card. “When The State newspaper in Columbia does an article on the hometown girl doing well, I want to know I helped.”

Her father, cuddly and handsome in his black suit, waited patiently beside his wife. He had refused to wear a tux and it had been more important to have him there than to argue. He’d promised he’d make the ultimate sacrifice for her wedding. “Run the card, Brooke.”

She ran it because she knew they’d stand there until she did. As an only child she’d learned early when she could have her way and when she couldn’t. She handed her mother the new receipt. “I love you.”

“We love you, too.” Her mother reached for the package, but her father was already picking it up by the black-corded handle. “I told you many times before, but I want to say again we’re proud of you and we love you.”

“Same here.” She blew them a kiss. “Next.”

Taking the woman’s single bar of soap of honeysuckle-vanilla soap, Brooke rang up the sale with the same enthusiasm and friendliness as she had the other orders. She wrapped it in tissue paper, and reached for a Bliss shopping bag, then pulled a black ribbon through the top of the bag. The pre-opening had originally been by invitation only, but as word had leaked out about the event they had decided to let in anyone who wanted to come inside.

The next woman had a basket that overflowed. In her hand was a duplicate set of the candlesticks on the mantel. Lorraine’s crystal and sterling were selling well. Brooke’s mouth twitched as she placed a BTS product into the woman’s bag.

The slim well-dressed woman who appeared to be in her late-sixties saw Brooke’s expression. “If the claim is true, I’ll be back to buy it in the fifty-gallon drum. George would rather watch TV than me.”

“Maybe you haven’t given George enough incentive,” Brooke whispered as she leaned over to hand the woman the bag. “The moisturizing cream is for all over the body. I’m sure there are some places you can’t reach. He might be interested in helping.”

The woman chuckled. “It’s worth a try.”

The next woman moved up. “Start ringing that up. I think I want some of that cream.”

“Certainly,” Brooke said. “It’s on the third counter with the rose and gardenia petals.”

Business was good, and the women were certainly getting into testing the BTS products. It wasn’t likely she’d have an occasion to test the products. This time it was much harder to keep the smile on her face when the woman came back.

*   *   *

Gray recognized Elaine Forest, a reporter from The Post and Courier, the South’s oldest daily newspaper, as soon as she entered Bliss. He was pleased to see she had accepted his invitation and had a photographer with her. She was dressed casually in khakis and a white blouse. Spotting him, she waved and started in his direction.

“Hello, Elaine,” he greeted, shaking the slender woman’s hand. “Glad you could make it.”

“Hi, Gray. So am I. You know Harold, my photographer,” she said, glancing around at the busy shop. “If this crowd is any indication, Bliss is going to be as successful as you predicted.”

“And you’ll have reported it first,” Gray put in smoothly. Elaine was fair, tenacious and her competitive spirit almost equaled his own. “Let me introduce you to the owners.”

When Gray introduced Elaine to Claire her beautiful brown eyes widened in astonishment, but she quickly recovered. Smiling warmly, she introduced Brooke and Lorraine, all the while relating how Bliss had begun … out of despair and a dream to become a wonderful opportunity and the strong bond of friendship that had developed between them.

“What’s your interest in Bliss, Gray?” Elaine asked, looking up from scribbling on her small memo pad.

He didn’t shy away from the speculation in Elaine’s face or her shrewd eyes. “Claire is an old friend of the family. She came to me for some business advice.”

“We couldn’t have done this without Gray,” Claire admitted quietly.

Brooke and Lorraine quickly agreed.

“Let’s get a picture and I’ll get out of your way,” Elaine said, and motioned the photographer forward.

Gray started to move aside. Elaine shook her head. “You’ll give the picture and the piece more power.”

It would also give rise to talk about his possible romantic interest with one of the two single owners. Gray accepted it and curved his arms around Claire’s slim waist, the other went around Brooke’s. “It seems I need another arm.” Everyone around them laughed as Lorraine took her place beside Claire.

“Thank you for coming,” Claire said when they’d finished. “Before you leave, please accept an assortment of Bliss products with our compliments.”

Elaine grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

*   *   *

This should be one of the proudest occasions of her life—the turnout was fantastic, the event would be in the newspaper, the cash register had been busy all night—but Lorraine couldn’t enjoy it; Hamilton’s attitude wouldn’t let her.

He had greeted the mutual friends she’d invited, but it was obvious he wasn’t happy. Several people had already asked why he didn’t appear to be enjoying himself. She’d lied and said he was tired from all of his out-of-town business trips.

Thomas wasn’t buying it. “I’m sorry, Lorraine. I thought he’d come around by now.”

His comforting words made her feel worse. “So did I.”

“He should be proud of you,” Thomas told her tightly, then his voice softened. “I noticed Margaret’s favorite flowers on the counter. With all you’ve been going through, you didn’t forget her.”

“No, and I never will,” Lorraine said softly. “She helped me to believe my dream was possible.” She smiled sadly. “You’ve done the same.”

Thomas shook his dark head. “I did very little.”

“That’s not true. You’ve been there every step of the way.” Unlike Hamilton, she silently added.

Thomas stared deep into her eyes. “Anytime you need me for Bliss or just want to talk, call.”

“Thank you. It means a great deal to know you understand.” Lorraine glanced at Hamilton, his mouth set in a disapproving frown. “I better go see if I can make Hamilton smile.” Excusing herself, she went to her husband. “Things are going well.”

“Looks that way. What were you and Thomas talking about?”

“We were both remembering Margaret, and he was complimenting me on the success of Bliss.”

Hamilton’s mouth grew sterner. Lorraine took a deep breath and tried again. “Did you see the basket of roses the children sent? Of course, Melissa and Stacy want me to send them a sample of everything.”

“How much longer before we can go home?”

His curtness hurt as much as his refusal to share in her success. “It’s my turn to take over the cash register,” she told him, unwilling to bend any further. “You can go home if you’d like, and I’ll get a ride.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Suit yourself. Excuse me.” Hamilton, what is happening to us?

*   *   *

John had told himself over and over that he wasn’t going to attend tonight. Claire had called the other day and left the decision up to him. He’d fully planned to stay away. But somehow he’d asked his parents to come over and stay with the kids and here he was.

Now what?

He looked through the window at the milling, jovial crowd. The women seemed to have gone all out, but thank goodness a few of the men simply wore dark suits. He realized he was looking for more than what people were wearing when he saw Brooke laughing up into some guy’s face. The dress she wore showed off every luscious curve of her body.

Of course, the guy she was with wore a tuxedo like he’d been born in one. Why that point irritated him, John couldn’t tell. Opening the door, he started toward Brooke.

“The Man of Bliss!”

“It’s him!”

A buzz ran through the shop and his steps slowed. He took a step back as several women surged toward him.

“Ladies,” Brooke said, seeming to come out of nowhere to stand by him. “I present to you the Man of Bliss. I bet with enough encouragement we can get him to sign the bag your merchandise is in, to commemorate this occasion.”

Gleeful shouts of approval filled the room. The murderous scowl John threw at Brooke didn’t seem to faze her.

“Gray, will you get the ladies in some type of order?” she instructed. “Claire, please get a pen and we can set up here.” She gestured toward the counter.

“Wouldn’t you ladies like to have the Woman of Bliss’s signature as well?” John asked. That would teach her.

“I know I would,” replied the man she had been talking with earlier.

John’s expression darkened. He’d like to toss the grinning hyena out on his ear.

Brooke winked at the suave-looking man, then went behind the counter and reached for the pen Claire held out to her. “John, we’re waiting.”

John went to stand beside Brooke. His arm brushed against her bare arm. She quickly moved away. Her response annoyed him. She hadn’t been that adverse to that other guy touching her. “I don’t have a pen.”

“Use mine,” Gray offered with a half smile. “I can probably sell it on eBay tomorrow for a small fortune.”

John hesitated, then saw the teasing glint in Gray’s eyes. “Thanks, man.”

John held his pen ready, and when Brooke slid the red bag over to him and he had to sign his name next to Brooke’s, it strangely reminded him of the afternoon he’d signed his marriage license. He’d been so nervous, so happy, his signature had been barely legible next to Linda’s neat cursive.

Brooke was nothing like his first wife, but he wasn’t looking for a wife. He was simply trying to figure out why this one woman had gotten under his skin. He quickly scrawled his name and reached for the next bag.

The impromptu autographing seemed endless. John felt foolish and a bit embarrassed by the hoopla, but he was enough of a friend and businessman to realized that he was helping Claire cement good relations with the customers. It was time life gave her more than a hard knock. Satisfied word of mouth was the best advertisement in his opinion.

“Let’s give the Bliss Man and Woman a big hand for being so gracious,” Claire said thirty minutes later. There was enthusiastic applause. “Thank you, John. Why don’t you take your mother a few items? On the house, of course.”

“She’d like that, but I’ll buy them as soon as I figure out what she might like,” he told her, placing his pen on the counter.

“I’ll help you,” Claire responded.

“Grandmother and my aunt are leaving and wanted to say goodbye,” Gray said joining them. “Brooke, would you mind helping John?”

“Gray, we really will have to have a talk one day,” Brooke told him through clenched teeth.

“I can’t wait.” Gray smiled and ushered an obviously concerned Claire away.

John stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You don’t have to help me.”

“How brilliant of you to come to that conclusion,” Brooke said crisply. “What kind of bath and beauty products does your mother enjoy?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. The usual, I guess.”

Brooke rolled her eyes and went to a grouping of honey bath products. “These are nice. It comes in a soap, bath gel, lotion and moisturizing body cream.” Opening a jar, she held it out for him to sniff.

He started to shrug his shoulders again and noted the impatient look on Brooke’s face. “I guess I’ll take them.”

Gathering the merchandise, Brooke placed them in a basket and handed it to John. “You mother will enjoy these.”

She was certainly in a hurry to get rid of him. He shouldn’t care. But he did. And there didn’t appear to be anything he could do about it.