Too Grand for Words (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (32 page)

He laughed and gathered her into his arms. “You change anything you want, sweetheart, it’s your home.”

They danced to the jazz music whispering through the air from the patio speakers as the final rays of the sun lost themselves in the sea. When he took her to his bed, the bed that they would share for the rest of their lives, he made slow, passionate love to her. His last thought before his mind drifted to darkness was how happy he was. Moira’s back snuggled against his chest, his palm filled with her warm breast, he knew that his life was complete.

* * * *

When he woke the next morning, Moira wasn’t beside him. He padded down the hallway and found her in the kitchen. She sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in one hand, reading a newspaper. She heard him and swiveled in her chair, putting the mug down. She opened her mouth to say something, but he pulled her into his arms. “I woke up and you weren’t there. I thought I might have dreamed everything.” He kissed her slowly, holding her tightly to him making sure she was real. “Morning, Margarite,” he said, giving her a grin.

Margarite busied herself in the kitchen. “Good morning, Senor Porter.”

“Look at this.” Moira shoved two papers in his face.

A picture of him holding Moira in his arms and kissing her had obviously hit every rag and California newspaper. Underneath the photo, headlines from sarcastic to benign spelled it out. “
Hollywood kingpin may have met his queen.
” The next paper’s headline said, “
Looks like Porter may surprise us all, and finally settle down.
”

The mystery behind Moira sparked an incredible frenzy. He had warned his management team that they’d all be fired if one word got out about who she was. It didn’t take long since she was well known in the literary world. Within a day, less than twenty-four hours, the fact that Moira Viterra was connected to him romantically spread.

“You take a nice picture,” he said, walking to the counter where Margarite had placed a cup for his morning coffee.

“Steven—”

“Well, you do.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s going to blow over. Until then,” He paused. Better now than later, he thought. “You’re just going to have some company wherever you go.”

“What?”

He flinched. So this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.

“Company? Are you talking about a bodyguard, for me?”

He filled his cup, and darted a look in Margarite’s direction. She bent her head lower, minding the dishes. “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

“For God’s sakes, Steven, get real. Are you serious?”

“Would you like a refill?” he asked, holding the pot up.

“No, I don’t want any more damn coffee.”

He walked to the table and sat down, pulling on her hands to get her to sit. “I know this is going to take some getting used to, but it’s for your safety.”

“My safety?” She grabbed the table. “Holy shit.”

He leaned back. “Listen, I’m just being overly cautious.”

“No wonder you couldn’t get a girlfriend,” she stated.

“I had plenty of—” The words stuck in his throat. “Company.”

“One-night stand company. The criminals didn’t know who to pick on, is that what you’re saying?”

“Now you’re starting to sound like Dane.”

“What? What did Dane say?”

“Nothing.” He dragged one of the papers toward him.

Her hand slammed down on the newsprint before he could pick it up.

“What did Dane say?”

He sighed and put his cup down. “He said that it wouldn’t be fair to drag you into my life. He didn’t think we could make it, that you would feel caged.”

“He’s right.”

“Moira.” He watched her vault out of her chair and begin pacing. “This is temporary, all right.”

“Marriage is not temporary.”

“And once we’re married the rags will start the stories about how I was caught with some blonde bimbo, and you’re having an affair with the president of the USA. It’s all crap. You just have to ignore it.”

She flapped her arms against her sides. “What have I done?” She wandered toward the patio doors, and stared out between the mullions toward the backyard.

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Sweetheart, we can do this. You just have to be a little patient.”

“I had a quiet little life before you came storming into it.”

“It’s going to take some getting used to, but I’ll be right beside you.”

She gave him a weary look.

He grinned back at her. “So what kind of bodyguard would you like, short and ugly or the tall and ugly?”

“Those are my choices?” She pursed her lips.

“Yup, I’m the only handsome guy that gets to be alone with you.” He swung her into his arms and headed down the hallway. “See you at lunch, Margarite.”

He never had a single desire for another woman once he looked into Moira’s eyes for the first time. The emptiness evaporated with her in his life. Finally, she stood by his side.

He thought he had opportunities for sex before, but for some reason those opportunities tripled once Moira entered his life. Whether it was a foot rubbing his leg from one of his executives’ wives under the table at lunch or a business meeting, chances flooded in.

While conducting an interview, he’d turned his back for only a minute, and when he turned around the woman lay naked on his couch. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling while he reminded her he wasn’t a doctor, and she could put her clothes back on.

Opportunities and offers came from every direction, but he didn’t want any of them. If anything got around fast in Hollywood, it was gossip and word of mouth. The word that he was committed to Moira blazed a trail. Some of the stories that spread were true, others weren’t, but all of them spoke loud and clear that he had found the woman who would be his wife.

He didn’t go to parties unless Moira was by his side. She hated them, but she also understood that it was part of who he was. She would always end up talking to the men. At first, it bothered the hell out of him, until he realized she simply felt more comfortable with men. She liked the technical aspect of movie making, and of course talking with the writers. She knew nothing about fashion, nor did she care. Her hairdresser was a sixty-year-old woman at the local strip mall. He thought for sure, in time, she would succumb to expensive clothes and shopping trips to New York, but it never happened.

But most of all her love for him was as close to perfect as a man could ever want, but life was not without its tests.

His twin brother and he were identical in every way but one; their voices were very different. Their mannerisms, their features, everything remained the same, even into their forties. It also turned out that something else was the same.

Dane’s relationship with Stephanie didn’t last, and he came for dinner a lot at their place after they broke up. He figured Dane loved Moira’s cooking as much as he did. Living in a cold, empty house was something he understood, so he didn’t really blame his brother for showing up so often. Then he started to notice how Dane followed her around the room with his eyes. Sometimes he would even be there before he got home from his office. Moira would be in the kitchen making dinner, and Dane would be sitting at the island talking to her and having a drink. It looked innocent enough, but his little voice told him it wasn’t innocent at all.

* * * *

“Dane, I’m going to take a shower before Steven gets home. I should be finished before the timer goes off, but if I’m not, would you mind taking the dish out?”

“Sure, darlin’.” His gaze followed Moira from the room until she disappeared around the corner. He flopped down onto the couch, and glanced at his watch. Steven would be home in thirty minutes. He laid his head back, staring at the ceiling. What the hell was he doing here every night? But the answer was pretty clear in his mind. He needed his daily fix of Moira. Since he and Steff broke up, he had tried to date other women, but nothing clicked.

Why the hell did Steven have to meet her first? He downed the rest of his drink and plunked the glass on the table. Three stiff drinks shifted around in his stomach, but it only made his cravings worse. Reasoning with himself, he knew the only thing he would get from Moira was overweight. He’d put twenty pounds on since he’d been coming over.

He considered having another drink to dull the aching need. Hell, he looked like Steven, she loved Steven, why wouldn’t she want him, too? The fact that Steven would tear him to pieces didn’t seem so important.

Moira’s blood-curdling scream had him vaulting off the couch. It tore through the house and right down his spine. He ran down the hallway and threw open the bedroom door. Moira was on the bed, her eyes glued to something.

“
Jesus Christ, Moira
, what?” He followed her stare then burst out laughing when he saw the spider stone-still, probably paralyzed in terror, in the middle of the carpet. It was damn big though.

“Is that a fuckin’ tarantula?” she yelled, pointing at it.

His brain didn’t even acknowledge the fact that she was completely naked when he burst into the room, but it did now.

“Dane, kill it. Whoa,” she shrieked again when it moved, and she scurried backward on the bed. She yanked a pillow into her arms to cover herself.

He grabbed the towel that Moira had dropped, and trapped the thing, then took it to the balcony and flung it out the window.

“Holy crap, those things are big.” She shivered.

“Moira, they’re harmless really. They just look bad,” he said with a grin as he walked toward the bed, but the grin disappeared in an instant as Steven walked through the door, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Ah—hey, Steven.”

“What—the—fuck—is going on?” he burst out. Steven’s expression went to instant angry as he looked at Moira kneeling on the bed with the pillow covering her body, and him just two steps away.

“Spider,” Dane said weakly.

“Yah, spider, big fuckin’ spider,” she stuttered. “Big, really big, Steven.”

“Well, where the hell is it?” Steven asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I threw it out the window,” he said. “Had to rescue the damsel in distress, ya know.”

“Uh-huh.” Steven’s jaw tightened. Then a glint of humor appeared in his eyes. “Is that why it’s still on your leg?”

“What? Ho!” He jumped backward, and the thing dropped to the ground, trying to make a getaway. He stomped on it this time. “Jesus Christ.”

Moira screamed again, forgetting the pillow, and jumped into Steven’s arms. Steven threw his head back and laughed hard, then carried her into the bathroom and kicked the door closed behind him.

“Fuck,” he growled, as he left the bedroom, still hearing Steven’s laughter coming from the bathroom. He wandered down the hallway, shaking his head. Man she had a gorgeous set of curves. How the hell would he get that image out of his mind?

* * * *

They sat in the living room after having dinner, and watched the six o’clock news. Steven couldn’t help but notice that Moira kept glancing at the floor. “Moira, they don’t come in packs. I’m sure that’s the only one, sweetheart.”

“Huh?” She blushed.

“Don’t have those in B.C., do ya?” Dane grinned.

“Think I’m moving back.”

“Don’t think she likes spiders, Steven.”

“Don’t think you do either, by the way you jumped.” He tried to stifle a laugh.

“I think I’m going to do a little writing,” she said, scanning the floor before untucking her feet from the couch.

“Night, Moira,” Dane said, watching her as she walked away.

He and Dane could talk about anything. The heated look in Dane’s eyes when he’d walked into the bedroom gave him pause. What if he hadn’t walked in when he did? Moira he trusted. Dane he suddenly wasn’t sure of. “It’s been a while since Steff and you broke up,” he said, taking Dane’s glass to refill it. “I figured you’d have someone by now. Bit of a dry spell?”

“How did you end up being the luckiest fucking bastard alive?”

He paused, watching Dane shake his head. A flash of uneasiness tore through him. “You’re right. I am lucky, and I’m not sharing.” He poured their drinks.

“I think I get that. Although, you said you guys liked to experiment,” Dane reminded him.

“Together, and you’re not invited,” he said, as a feeling of possessiveness clutched him. Had Dane lost his mind?

“How do you know she wouldn’t like it?”

“Are we really fucking talking about this?” He glared at his brother, and slammed the glass decanter on the marble counter, almost shattering it.

“Don’t get so fucking hot under the collar, Steven. I get it, she’s yours and you don’t want to share her heart.”

He dropped two cubes of ice into each glass, trying to control his anger.

“You asked. I’m not going to lie to you. I want Moira—once.” He shrugged. “Hey, we’ve been open with each other all our lives. I know you’ve been wondering what the hell I’ve been doing here so often. I can’t help what I feel, Steven. I want to make love to her till she screams, to be honest with you.”

Dane didn’t waver from his cold stare. He would have, if he knew how close he was coming—to being dead.

“I dream about her. I jack off morning and night thinking about her, I—”

“All right, I get it,” he said, cutting him off. Glaring at him, he wondered if he should tear him to pieces now or just throw him out.

“You’re not thinking of her, you’re thinking of yourself. You ever consider that it might be her fantasy, too?” Dane rose and walked toward the island.

He ran his hand through his hair. “She hasn’t said that to you, has she?” The images flitting through his mind were driving him to see red.

“Christ, no. Get real, Steven. That woman loves you so much, it’s a fucking miracle really. I don’t know how she puts up with your temper.”

He pursed his lips, his anxiety receding—a little. “I don’t have a temper when I’m around her. Besides, she yells louder than I do.”

“Found that out the hard way, huh?” Dane grinned.

“Yup.” He thrust Dane’s drink at him and took a slow sip from his own. “You don’t have any problems getting a woman, but if you have to buy one, then do it.” He was trying his damndest to keep control, but he wanted to kill his own brother. “Moira is not that kind of woman.”

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Dane took a deep swallow from his drink. “I can imagine what she’s like in bed.”

He gritted his teeth. “Obviously you have, and the truth is it’s none of your goddamned business.” He released his grip on his glass. If he didn’t, he’d crush it in his hand. “And what would have happened if I hadn’t come in the door when I did this evening, Dane?” Dane remained silent, but the guilty look in his face gave him his answer.

“Probably nothing, but only because she wouldn’t let it happen.”

He grabbed the countertop instead of giving in to the desire to take a swing at his brother. “You’re right. She wouldn’t, and you need to remember that.”

“She’s adorable when she peeks through her bangs. Then the next minute she’s this beautiful woman in the prime of her life, intelligent, easy to talk to. She swings back and forth from being young and inviting to a sensual woman so easily. And that body of hers is all curves, isn’t it?”

“Dane—” His voice dropped to a warning tone. “I know what she is.”

“It’s not like we haven’t shared before,” Dane said.

“That was twenty fuckin’ years ago, and it happened once.”

“That’s all I’m asking for—once. I didn’t say I wanted her to marry me. I just want one night with her—” His words stopped abruptly as he looked toward the entrance to the kitchen.

“Are you mental?”

Her eyes strayed from him to Dane and back again. “Shit,” he said under his breath. How much of that had she heard?

Dane’s gaze turned almost feral at the sight of her in her little negligee.

“He asked, Moira. I’m just being honest. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. You obviously have the same effect on me as you do on my brother.”

Her mouth gaped open and then slammed shut. She crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her low-cut gown from his view. “Come to bed, Steven—alone,” she ordered and turned for the bedroom. “Go home, Dane.”