Trust him. Cookie had a good idea what that actually meant. Before she walked into the hotel ballroom for the Fragrance Foundation dinner that night, she knew the way she needed to trust Chess.
She needed to tell him everything. The story from her childhood, the two bad experiences with sex—everything she'd been too embarrassed or ashamed to admit—she had to tell him.
She felt a nervous flutter as she scanned the high-ceilinged room for Chess. Well-dressed people holding champagne glasses stood in clumps of conversation. A few prowled the edges of a buffet table loaded with appetizers. No Chess.
Cookie released a deep breath. The respite was only temporary. When she did see him and he did take her home, she could not risk another episode where she thought she could go through with it, actually couldn't, and ended up sticking Chess with the blame. One way or another, she was going to have to deal with her problem.
Needless to say, she'd gone through some anguish in selecting her attire for the evening. She wanted to appear attractive but not end up a tease. The dress she'd eventually settled on was a black crepe that wrapped around her breasts in a wide ribbon. On her feet she wore a pair of high-heeled pumps.
A waiter approached bearing a tray of cheese puffs. Cookie shook her head. She didn't want anything in her stomach, just in case. God, she had no idea how the evening would play out. If half of what Ruth had told her was true...
"Mrs. Bradshaw?"
Cookie started at the unexpected voice interrupting her thoughts. She turned to meet a pair of sea-green eyes. They were amazingly familiar. But they weren't the eyes she was looking for. The curling hair on top of this man's head was pure silver.
"I doubt that anybody will introduce us." The man gave her a faintly ironic smile and held out his hand. "So allow me. Bernard Korman."
The family arch-demon. Cookie was face to face with him, and all she could do was stick her hand forth in an automatic gesture of courtesy. "How do you do, Mr. Korman?"
His expression sobered. "As a matter of fact, Mrs. Bradshaw, I'm quite worried."
"I beg your pardon?"
He looked apologetic. "Forgive me for being blunt, but you're the only one of the family I could hope might hear me out, and I don't know how much time I'll have."
Logic told Cookie she should be on her guard with this man. He'd stolen Scents Allure's formulas and he'd stolen Scents Allure's advertising. But something stronger than logic had her hooked. "Let's walk over to the side where we can have a little more privacy," she suggested.
"Thank you." His expression appeared to be one of genuine gratitude. "Kate won't talk to me at all, and Chess wouldn't believe me, no matter what I said." Taking her arm, he led the way to the far wall of the room.
"What is it you have to say?"
He released his light hold on her elbow. "First, you have to know that I had nothing to do with the theft of the concept for your advertising campaign for Temptation."
He sounded amazingly sincere. Cookie frowned. "But you know it was stolen."
His gaze averted.
"And you know the original name for the perfume."
"Yes, but that isn't the point."
"What about the formulas for the classics? Are you innocent of stealing those, too?"
Korman's face flushed a dull color. "I didn't steal them. They...came into my possession."
"They came into your possession. Just like that." Cookie was trying hard to remain skeptical, but Korman was looking at her with such obvious pain in his eyes that it was a difficult task.
"Please. You must listen to me. You're my only hope. Something strange is going on at both Scents Allure and Korman Cosmetics. The idea for our Temptress scent's advertising, the one that looked like Scents Allure's Temptation, came from someone who was only in my marketing department for an extremely short time before quitting. I've tried to locate this person, but he's disappeared."
"Convenient."
"Most inconvenient, if not disturbing."
Cookie's frown deepened. Korman's story was the most unlikely she had ever heard, yet she couldn't shake the impression he was telling the truth. "Why do you care?" she dared to ask. "Whoever this is, they seem to be on your side."
Korman gave her a narrow look. "I do not like being used." As he regarded her, an emotion far beyond pique showed in his ocean-colored eyes.
The world seemed take a slow whirl as Cookie felt those eyes try to tell her something without words.
"Rebecca."
The harsh voice brought Cookie abruptly out of her dizzying journey.
Chess stood behind Korman's right shoulder, looking quietly murderous. "Korman," he said.
Bernard Korman turned to greet the younger man. Everything Cookie had seen in the older man's eyes dropped from sight. "Why, Chess, how are you? I was just acquainting myself with your lovely wife."
"So I see." Chess's gaze was hard as slate. In full evening dress, he looked like a dark avenging angel.
"You're a lucky man," Korman went on, in the same hearty tone. He clapped Chess on the shoulder.
Chess didn't look lucky. He looked furious.
"Take good care of this one," Korman advised. "She's a gem." With one final, slanting glance at Cookie, he walked off.
She was left staring at her husband, who still appeared incensed. Not the way she'd wanted to start an evening in which she already feared disappointing him.
"Let's go," Chess said.
"What?" Cookie blinked in confusion. "I thought you had to come to this dinner."
"I came. Now, let's go." He reached to take her arm and then seemed to think better of it. Retracting his hand, he simply gestured with his head. "Follow me."
Cookie followed him even though the man did not consider the speed at which a girl could travel in high heels. She had to skip to keep up as he led the way down the long carpeted hall of the hotel. As she hurried, she began to get angry herself. She'd been talking to Bernard Korman. So, what? This was a reason to act pigheaded?
When they reached Chess's car in the underground parking garage, Cookie came to a halt and put her hands on her hips. "Okay. Tell me. What will it take to get this out of your system?"
From the other side of the Porsche, Chess's eyes blazed. "You must be kidding. Get in the car, Cookie."
She was about to respond that she'd get into the car when hell froze over, but then she realized that he'd switched. It wasn't 'Rebecca' anymore but 'Cookie.'
Tilting her head, she decided to make sure. "Are you mad at me for talking to Bernard Korman?"
"What?" The bafflement on his face was unfeigned. "Anger is not what I'm experiencing right now. For God's sake, Cookie, get in the car."
Oh. Oh-h-h. As she met the insistence in Chess's eyes, Cookie's take on the situation underwent a complete reversal. A jolt in her stomach rippled down to her knees, making them feel weak. In fact, all of her went sort of soft.
She got into the car.
I have to tell him. I have to stop this before it gets too far.
But she still felt so soft and...receptive.
Meanwhile, Chess tried to put the key in the ignition, but his hands were shaking so badly, he missed the spot.
Cookie watched in amazement. Wow. He was nervous. He was!
He took a deep breath and then, with a soft little laugh, finally got the key where he wanted it. The motor roared to life. Chess turned to her with a boyish grin.
Cookie's heart turned over in her chest. How could she possibly disappoint him now?
On the other hand, how could she guarantee she wouldn't freeze up again?
The trip between Nob Hill and Pacific Heights was a white-knuckler. Chess fit his car into lanes that did not actually exist. He zipped down alleys to avoid slower traffic. Somehow, in the midst of this vehicular gymnastics, he took hold of her left hand.
Cookie swallowed as he brushed his lips over her knuckles. Even though she was sitting down now, her knees felt weak again.
His lips curved in a knowing smile as he fit the tips of her fingers into his mouth.
A shudder ran all the way through her. She felt a wet, warm pressure on her fingers—and an incredible softness unfold inside herself.
Cookie heard someone moan. With surprise, she realized it was herself.
Chess continued to play with her hand, sucking, stroking, kissing.
Cookie bit her lip, trying to contain her moans. She'd had no idea her hand contained so much sensual awareness. She'd had no idea her whole body could respond with such yearning. Perhaps it was because this involved no full-body physical contact.
Or perhaps she was so far gone in wanting Chess that she was ready for everything. All she knew was that she didn't want him to stop.
But stop he did. He put her hand back on the car seat where he'd found it and used his own to shift gears. The car made a sharp turn and came to a stop.
Cookie looked up. They were parked in the driveway before Chess's house.
He pulled up on the parking brake and looked at her. His chest was rising and falling as though he'd just finished running fast.
She felt rather out of breath herself.
"The next time I touch you," he announced, "I'm not going to stop."
He said this with such ferocity that Cookie didn't know how to respond. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted more of the sensations he'd been able to produce by kissing her hand. She was greedy for it. But still...she should probably tell him the truth.
The problem was that if she did that, he would pull up and stop everything. Chess would put her comfort above his pleasure.
She so did not want him to give up his pleasure. She wanted to be able to give that to him.
"I want you to say yes now." Chess nodded toward the front of the house. "I want you to say yes now to whatever happens on the other side of that door."
Cookie licked her lips nervously. While it was true that she wanted to give him pleasure if she possibly could, he was asking for carte blanche. "What if I change my mind?" As she'd already done once before.
Chess shook his head forcefully. "Too bad. You already said yes."
She felt a rush of mixed excitement and fear. He wasn't taking the decision away from her, but he was going to hold her to whatever decision she made. No going back.
She could not argue with that. In fact, she agreed wholeheartedly. The problem was she didn't know what to decide: admit she was defective or believe she could do this?
Drawing in a breath, she closed her eyes. She intended to think through her decision, but all she could see in her mind was Chess's face. His yearning.
It wasn't merely a yearning for sex, Cookie suddenly realized. It was a yearning for her.
He needed her to belong to him.
And she needed to trust him. Really trust him. Literally all the way.
She needed to take that leap of faith, both in him and in herself.
Opening her eyes again, Cookie leaped. "Okay," she said. Her voice was soft. "Yes."
Triumph surged within him. Cookie could feel it even though she was sitting across the gearshift.
"Good." His eyes went down her body. "Are you wearing hose or stockings?"
Cookie was startled by the suddenly mundane question. "Hose."
His eyes were like burning coals. "Would you take them off for me?"
Her heart commenced pounding. This must be what it meant to 'know someone intimately.' You had to be pretty close to discuss removing lingerie. On the other hand, she was glad Chess had a handle on the technical details. "All right."
"Not yet." Chess stopped her as she reached for the hem of her dress. His voice was strained. "Wait until I'm out of the car." His gaze went down to her black suede heels.
"I'll put the shoes back on," Cookie promised him. "After."
She could see by the expression in his eyes that she'd guessed correctly. Then he clicked the door open and got out.
Cookie's hands were shaking as she reached under her dress to pull down her hose. In a brief instant of madness she drew her panties down with them, kicking both silky nothings to the floor of Chess's car. She was just shoving her foot into the second of her shoes when Chess opened her door.
He was a shadowy figure in evening dress, his elegance paper thin. Underneath she saw raw male animal.
Trust, trust, trust, Cookie repeated to herself. She was still internally chanting the words when Chess stopped her at the front door.
His jaw was tight. "Say it again."
Cookie was trembling from head to toe, but she was not going to be nauseous. She wanted this too much herself for that sort of nonsense. It was with enormous relief that she realized this. She was a lamb about to be devoured by this lion. And she couldn't wait. "Yes," she whispered hoarsely.
He closed his eyes. Then he opened them and the door. Holding her hand, he drew her over the threshold.
The next thing Cookie knew the door was slammed shut, and her back was flat against it.
"Now," Chess growled. He kissed her. He'd kissed her with ardor before. A long time ago. There'd been demand and erotic play in some of those kisses. But Chess had never kissed her like this: fierce, wildly hungry, devouring. He groaned as though protesting the fact he couldn't eat her in one gulp.
A fevered heat swept over Cookie. This was— Oh, my.
Meanwhile, Chess found the zipper at the back of her dress. He drew it down in one fluid move.
She drew in a sharp breath. The sleeves of her dress fell around her elbows, the bodice lacing her waist.
"Ah!" Chess's exclamation was triumphant. Immediately, he placed his hands on the black lace cups of her brassiere. His touch was bold and unapologetic.
Cookie felt a searing heat arrow straight to her groin. She'd never felt anything like it. "Oh, my God," she breathed. This felt so— It was too much. "No," she said.
Chess wasn't talking. His fingers expertly unfastened her bra at the back. His rough palms met the soft skin of her breasts.
The sensation made jello of her knees. With Chess's mouth attacking her neck, she only remained standing because he was too close for her to fall. She had not realized how very...stimulating this was going to be.
Chess dropped his head from her neck.
Cookie gasped in pure amazement when he settled his mouth around her nipple. "Oh, no. My God, no." Her hands tangled in his curly hair as he sent the most incredible sensations shooting through her body. "No-o-o," she moaned, not knowing how she could take any more sensation.
But Chess gave her more. Distracting her with a piquant nip at her breast, he got his other hand under her skirt.
Cookie drew in a sharp breath as he grasped the roundness of her rump.
With his mouth against her breast, he made a sound of pleased surprise. He hadn't guessed she'd be naked there.
"What—? No!" Cookie protested. One of his hands was there, between her legs. She stiffened. This was too much. Too close. Too—
Chess did something with the fingers he had at her nipple and the fingers of his other hand between her legs, and Cookie went slack. Good God, that felt good.
"Stop. Oh, stop!" It felt too good, too marvelous to contain. And, oh, so deliciously naughty. Cookie held onto Chess's broad shoulders, clenching her teeth against the rockets of sensation. "Stop, stop, stop," she moaned softly.
And then, abruptly, he stopped.
Cookie cried out in distress. Clearly, she hadn't really wanted him to stop at all.
But he pulled away anyway, panting. His hand went to his pants where he drew his fly down with a harsh metal rasp and an impatient grunt.
Then her back was against the wall again, harder this time, enough to keep her standing. There were rivers of perspiration running down Chess's sideburns and his eyes were like nothing she'd ever seen. They seemed to want to eat her. Against Cookie's thigh she felt hot, heavy flesh. She didn't look, but she was pretty sure he was large.
If ever there were a time she might panic, this was it. His big body was pressed against her; she couldn't move.
But this was Chess. Chess. And he was about to possess her, exactly as she wanted. God, she wanted it. Pinned as she was, she did her best to arch against him.
He uttered a soft, pleading moan and his hands went down again. He parted her.
Ah, she was open. His. Oh, dear. How much more sensation was this going to send through her? "No," she murmured gently.
She felt him lift her by her thighs, fit himself to her, and push inside.
"Oh, no," she whispered.
He pushed little by little until he was partway in—and then abruptly shoved the rest of the way home.
Cookie gasped.
So did Chess. His eyes closed tight in an expression that was either pain or ecstasy. Then, like a man in a trance, he began to move, rocking her, shoving her against the door. His breath came out in hoarse grunts and moans: complaining, pushing, reaching. It was rough, animal, primitive, without a hint of politeness.
Cookie threw her arms around his neck as he pushed her higher and higher against the door. This, at last, was true possession.
He didn't speak, but the sounds that came out of his mouth were unmistakable. He needed more, more, more. Please, please please.
Cookie, pinned against the door, could do nothing but simply let him take, take, take. She could feel the muscles bunched under her arms, the glorious strength of him as he moved, the slick silky shaft that made him become one with her. One of her shoes dropped to the marble floor.
And then, just when she thought she might sort of like this, it was over.
He gave one last thrust and stiffened, pushed inside of her as far as he could go.
His cry was a mixture of supreme agony and exultation. There were more sounds of pain, or was it pleasure? "Mm-m-m." His arms were trembling as he lowered her and then embraced her. Their nether connection broke with the move.
Considering the incredible tenderness of his embrace, Cookie decided his sounds must be those of pleasure. She felt a kiss pressed against the side of her forehead and then they were both sliding downward against the door.
Chess landed on his back on the marble tile floor. He pulled Cookie to lie sprawled on top of him. A bone deep sigh left his lips as he put his arms around her.
She couldn't have moved if she wanted to, and she didn't really want to. There was a wealth of tenderness in the way he was holding her. She adored that even if she felt awkward with her dress bunched around her waist, one shoe off, and her hair falling down. She pressed her cheek against his chest, her skin against the starched cotton of his dress shirt, and herself brimming with joy.
She hadn't frozen up. She hadn't upchucked. She'd gone through with it. Of course from his point of view, more than such restraint might have been expected. In fact, she had done absolutely nothing but remain immobile during the whole procedure. She winced. Ruth had said that was all that was necessary, but...
"I know this may seem a stupid question at a time like this, but I have to ask." Cookie levered up on one hand to look down at him.
He appeared rather disheveled himself, with his hair falling onto his forehead and his jacket collar folded at an odd angle.
"Was that good for you?" she asked.
The hand he'd been stroking down her back halted mid-spine. The expression on his face was, for a moment, utterly blank.
Then he started to laugh. It started out as a deep, throaty chuckle and then expanded through his chest. Cookie might have taken offense at his amusement but for the joy she heard ringing off the marble tile and echoing up among the rafters.
"Oh, yes, Rebecca," he said at last, sobering. He cupped her face with one hand and smiled. "That was good for me. Very, very good."
She felt a rush of pleasure. "Oh, that's fine, then." She ducked her head back down onto his fully clothed chest. "That's, um, all I wanted to know."
"Hmm." Chess moved his hand in a warm circle on her bared back. She felt a kiss pressed against the top of her head. "You told me to stop. You're not sorry that I didn't?"
Cookie gave a brief laugh. "Are you kidding?"
Chess lifted her chin.
From her position on his chest, she met his eyes.
He was smiling at her in the sweetest way. "You may not believe this, but I'd planned to do that slowly." His own sheepish laugh escaped him. "It would have been nice to have given you some pleasure, too."
"Oh, I was pleased." Just thinking about the animal fierceness of his desire caused a warm blush. "The whole thing was...quite marvelous."
Chess gave her a quizzical, even disbelieving, look but ended up simply saying, "I'm glad." He curled a finger around a lock of her hair. "You going to sleep with me tonight?"
Cookie's heart contracted. Even after what they'd just been through, it was clearly difficult for him to ask. "Yes," she told him. She had a lot of his trust in her to build up here. A lot of trust that her own fears had chased away. "Oh, yes, please."
"Yes," Chess repeated softly. His smile was slow and a little wicked. "Remember you said yes."
~~~
There must have been a thousand tiny noes between the one innocent yes Cookie had given him on the marble floor of the entry foyer and the husky, unbridled final yes of her climax on the tangled sheets of his bed.
By the time she shuddered and pressed her hot body against him, Chess found his thirty-eight-year-old body once again in a state of sexual need. Nothing could have been more erotic than watching his wife slowly, and with diffident resistance, succumb to the pleasures of his touch. At every step she halted, shy. Then he would coax, touch, kiss, and she'd stumble over the obstacle with a gratitude and eager responsiveness that set his heart to skipping. Using his hands and his mouth, he'd drawn it out as long as possible, amazed by how much her pleasure pleasured him.
"Oh, Chess, my God!" Her voice was a hoarse whisper as she hugged him tightly. "I had no idea— Oh, my. Thank you!"
Kisses were planted all over his face, over which he could feel a grin break out.
"Oh, good Lord. Oh, my." She snuggled against him, her nose against his chest. "That was absolutely the most marvelous."
Revelling, Chess held her close. He had every confidence that he'd been the very first to send Cookie to that place of marvels.
She heaved a very deep and satisfied sigh.
"Pardon me if this is a stupid question at a time like this." He barely repressed happy laughter. "But you haven't done this very much, have you?"
She went absolutely still in his arms. "What makes you say that?"
He opened his mouth, a frown forming between his brows at her defensive tone. He closed his mouth again, thinking carefully. "Maybe I ask because this feels completely new to me."
He could sense her surprise. "Really? But you—um, well, aren't you quite experienced?"
He gave her a squeeze, his chin against her hair. "Experienced, yes, but only with experienced women. I've never done this, tonight, before. I've never taken a woman through for the first time." And now he knew why not. The sense of responsibility was awesome. Doing it for Cookie, though, brought utter joy.
Cookie was silent a moment. "I told you I'm not a virgin."
He smiled against the top of her head, where she couldn't see it. "How many times, Cookie. Once?"
She stroked a finger shyly past his nipple. "Twice."
It was with the greatest difficulty that Chess contained his laughter. Cookie wouldn't understand that it was directed toward himself. "Twice," he repeated in a strained tone. "Twice." Then he couldn't help a guffaw. "And you had to wait until I'd gotten over my jealousy of your trail of 'lovers' before you'd tell me that, eh?"
She turned her head to look up at him. Upon seeing the wide grin on his face, she couldn't help losing her stiff expression to a sheepish smile of her own. "I tried to explain...once..."
"Yes." On their wedding night. He dimly remembered how quickly he'd shut her down. Now he kissed her forehead. "Serves me right for not listening."
Cookie ducked her head, avoiding his eyes. "So you don't mind that I'm, well, kind of inept?"
His fingers tightened on her head. "Inept you are not."
"But...I don't know what to do!"
He took her face between his hands and made her look at him. If someone had ever told him that he'd one day have to assure Rebecca Thibideaux that she was all woman, he would have laughed in his face. "You are a fantastic lover."
"But—"
"Whatever you think you don't know, you'll learn. And I'm discovering there is a distinct pleasure in teaching you." He rubbed the pads of his thumbs over the soft skin of her chin. "I'm the first man to have given you an orgasm. Makes me feel like I could fly to the moon."
Her eyes went dark and wet. "You make me feel the same way," she said, her voice catching.
He couldn't help it. He was either going to cry, or he was going to kiss her. He chose the kiss. Her lips met his eagerly, and he shamelessly abused her innocent trust, so hungry was he still, so full of dark longing. And she filled him up, God help her, just as though it were the task on earth she'd been born to do. He rolled her onto her back, felt her softness beneath him as he slanted kiss after kiss.
He was dimly reminding himself that this time he really ought to use a condom when the telephone rang.
"Don't answer it," Chess growled, his blood racing.
"Chess." Cookie spoke through his kisses. "It must be after midnight. No one would call unless it were—" She had to shut up as he stopped her voice with another kiss. The phone rang again, unfortunately right by the bed and incredibly intrusive.
Chess sighed. Bowing to the inevitable, he rolled to the side and answered the phone on the fifth ring. "What," he asked irritably.
Kate's voice came over the wires. "Chess, please come right away."
His irritation was instantly quelled, as was his desire. He'd only once before heard this tone in his mother's voice, as though she were about to break. He sat up quickly.
"Come where?"
"The emergency room. Alex is here. Oh, God."
Chess was already throwing the sheets from his legs. "Which emergency room?"
"French Hospital."
Cookie was scrambling out of the bed on her side.
"Kate, what is it? What happened?" But Chess was speaking into a dead phone. His mother had hung up. "Damn!" he said, dropping the receiver.
"Who?" Cookie asked, struggling into her dress, the closest piece of her clothing available.
"Alex. I have no idea what happened." Chess automatically zipped the back of Cookie's dress and then bent for his trousers. His heart was racing, the adrenaline flying. Alex, Alex. Visions of car accidents flashed behind his eyes.
"I'm ready." Cookie stabbed her feet into her black pumps.
Chess didn't even consider spending the time to fasten the tiny studs on his dress shirt. He grabbed Cookie's arm, and they ran for the car.