Then Jenny held up the dress Abby wore to Ben’s work Christmas party the last Christmas he’d been alive.
A taupe that was so light it was almost cream, the dress was made of soft wool, clingy in all the right places but providing maximum coverage. It had a cowl-neck and the hem fell to mid calf. Abby wore it with her high-heeled, mocha suede boots and matching wide belt.
It had cost a fortune though the boots and belt cost more, and Ben had loved it. He loved it so much, they left the party early so he could take her home and take it off.
It was perfect. Expensive, timelessly stylish, sexy-yet-demure and, best of all, it would remind her of Ben.
“That’s it,” Abby announced.
“Thank God,” Jenny sighed.
“I still like the blue,” Mrs. Truman grumbled but it was too late. Abby had made her decision and she had to get a move on if she was going to be ready on time which she felt at that moment was a moral imperative.
Mrs. Truman and Jenny put away the clothes while Abby did her makeup in a new look, elegant with a bit of drama (the look she dubbed “Castle Chic”).
Mrs. Truman left to see to her dogs and Jenny did Abby’s hair using a curling iron to give her loads of curls then smoothing it all away from her face in a barrette at her nape that burst in a riot of curls down her back, all the while giving her an “it’s-just-a-job” pep talk.
Then Jenny left Abby alone with her cat Zee.
It was a quarter-to-six and Abby was nervous as hell.
But, importantly, she was ready.
She was in her bedroom transferring needed items into a small, mocha-coloured, patent leather clutch when she heard the bell at the door.
Her head shot up and she stared at her bedside clock.
It couldn’t be Cash. He couldn’t be early again, not tonight of all nights. She wasn’t yet mentally prepared to face him.
Abby left the clutch on her bed and ran down the stairs to see who it was and get them gone before Cash arrived.
Zee, having absented himself during the drama and ensuing clothes-fest, ran to the door with her, nearly tripping her twice.
Abby threw it open and stood frozen, staring at Cash.
One look at him and she knew that he wasn’t over the fight.
Not by a long shot.
Abby made a mental note for possible future reference that Cash Fraser could hold a mean grudge.
“You’re early,” she told him.
“Do they say that instead of ‘hello’ in America?” Cash returned, his dry words reminding her she was being rude and she immediately felt like an idiot.
“Sorry, come in,” Abby stepped out of the way, eyes to the floor, and prattled on, “I’m ready. I need two seconds. Wait here, I’ll be right back. I just have to go get my bag.”
Then she turned tail and ran, Zee running alongside her.
She darted to her room, realised she forgot her lip gloss, flew to her dressing table and grabbed it. In all this activity Zee decided to go away and come back later when Abby wasn’t in a tizzy.
She bent over the bed, shoving everything into her purse and snapping it shut. Then she straightened, turned to run downstairs and instead ran headlong into Cash.
Her body jerked back but his hands came to settle on her hips to hold her where she was.
She tilted her head to look at him, surprised he was there and opened her mouth to speak but he got there first.
“I see they aren’t finished with the bathroom,” he remarked.
Abby stared at him.
She didn’t know what to make of this. His handsome face was closed, his eyes cold and he looked remote. Abby knew, without knowing why she knew, that this meant he was angry.
Very angry.
Scary angry.
Yet his comment was bland.
And he was there. And he hadn’t yet fired her. Not that she’d given him a chance, but still.
“They say it’ll be done tomorrow,” Abby informed him.
Keen to get on with the evening and out of her bedroom, she started to move around him but his fingers tensed at her hips and she stopped.
Her head tipped back in question. “Cash, we should –”
He cut her off by saying, “A minute.”
She looked at him and his eyes held her captive as one of his hands moved lightly over her bottom.
“Cash, what are you –?” she started but he cut her off again.
“You’re wearing underwear,” he told her.
Abby’s breath froze in her lungs.
Oh dear Lord, she forgot about the underwear.
Then she felt her pulse beating in her neck.
“Cash –” she began.
“Take it off,” he ordered and she blinked in stunned surprise.
“What?” she breathed.
“Take them off,” he repeated.
Abby felt a thrill run up her spine and it wasn’t the usual thrill Cash gave her or at least not entirely.
In a pleading whisper, she begged, “Cash, please don’t make me –”
He interrupted her again, his voice patient but barely so, “Abby, take them off.”
Abby felt her spine go ramrod straight, thinking he couldn’t make her not wear underwear. And if he tried, he could have the damned bracelet back.
“No,” she replied, her voice had grown cold.
His head tilted to the side, something dangerous flashed in his eyes and he asked softly, “No?”
Being stupid (but brave, she told herself) in the face of obvious peril, Abby held her ground and repeated, “No.”
He gazed at her for a moment then two then he replied quietly, “All right Abby.”
She felt her body relax.
He’d given in. He wasn’t going to make her do something which made her uncomfortable. And she had the fleeting thought maybe it was all going to be okay.
She had this thought right before his head bent, his arms went around her tight and he kissed her.
It wasn’t like any kiss he’d given before. It was hot, demanding and very effective but it was also hard and claiming, taking everything but giving nothing in return.
It still, unfortunately, worked on Abby because it came with the scent of him, the feel of him and the memory of how good they could be.
When her arms went around his neck, signifying her not-very-hard-won capitulation, he shifted. They fell, him on his back, her on top of him, to the bed.
He rolled immediately, pinning her under him, not giving her a chance to think, only feel.
His mouth was on hers then it was on her neck just under and behind her ear, a sensitive spot that he manipulated ruthlessly.
His hands were all over her, smoothing over the wool at her side, her hip, up her midriff then his thumb caught against her hard nipple making sweet sensations shoot through her. At the feel of them, her neck arched as she gasped and his thumb stroked back then again, and again.
When she was trembling under him, his thigh went between her legs, his knee pulling up her dress as his hand went down her belly. His fingers took over for his knee and yanked the skirt of her dress up and then they were there, in her panties, she felt them sliding against her and his touch rocketed heat straight through her.
“Wet,” he murmured, his mouth touching hers, his word shivering through her.
Then his fingers moved and all she could think of was what they were doing, how they were making her feel, how delicious it felt and then one slid inside.
“Cash,” she gasped, pressing against him, her hands roaming his body urgently and then clutching at him as her hips bucked, riding his hand as his finger moved in and out, his thumb circling magnificently at the exact perfect spot.
Somewhere in the back of her head it registered that he was holding himself away even as he held her close, his hand between her legs, his other arm wrapped tight around her, his face buried in her neck.