Desire Love and Passion

chapter 6



"You made up," Nancy said walking into Willow's office on Friday afternoon.

"What makes you think I made up with anyone," Willow replied without looking away from her computer.

"This."

Willow looked up. Her friend was holding a small neat red bag.

"That could be from anyone."

Willow took the small gift bag from her friend. She pulled out a six by six box from the bag, along with a small card. She put the box on the table and looked at the card.

It read; I want you to know I still know how to romance and have every intention of romancing you. There is a slight change in my schedule. I am afraid I cannot make our dinner arrangements for this evening. Accept this gift as a tiny token of how I will make this up to you. Still waiting for a reply - J.

"Open the box." Nancy was dancing on one leg.

"Perhaps it's for you," Willow said. "You’re awfully excited."

"I’m so glad you’re dating again. I was beginning to think you were going to die an old maid. It's been over seven months since you broke up with David."

"I am glad at least one of us is counting," Willow said as she pulled the bow on the box.

Nancy and Willow had been friends since they first met at Cambridge University. Nancy was the grounded one who’d completed her Bachelors and Masters degrees in the time it had taken Willow to finally settle and complete her Bachelors’ degree. Willow spent a year in pre-med. Then she spent another in pre-law and yet another in political science before deciding to settle on photography and marketing.

Now she watched as her friend snatched up the card.

“This is expensive stationary,” Nancy said. “Did you meet some oil tycoon?”

“No.”

“Who is he?”

“None of your business,” Willow said.

“Oh, he’s married,” Nancy said. “That’s got to be the only reason you wouldn’t tell me, you home wrecker you,” Nancy teased.

“He’s single,” Willow said.

“Just tell me, who is it?”

“James Monroe?”

“What?” Nancy shrieked. “The James Monroe as in Ambassador James Monroe? James Monroe the billionaire and most eligible bachelor in the world?”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Willow said. “Not even Richard.”

Richard was Nancy’s husband.

“When did this happen? How did it happen?”

“Remember I told you I was in an accident on Saturday? He was the other driver.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No.”

“Is he as handsome in person?”

“Oh he is most definitely as handsome,” Willow said. “And super sexy.”

“And he likes you?”

Willow nodded.

“Do you like him?” Nancy asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I mean I’m attracted to him, but that could be seven months of being single talking.”

“You are talking about James Monroe, who cares if it’s hormones or pheromones?”

Willow opened the small package revealing a box of expensive chocolate truffles. "Do you want to try one?"

"I would love to," Nancy plucked a truffle from the box. "I'm in heaven."

Willow chuckled at her friend.

“I've got to get back to work,” Willow said. “Ads don't magically make themselves.”

“Don’t let him slip away,” Nancy advised as she exited the office.

Willow did not try the treats herself. She covered the box and returned both it and the card to the small gift bag. James was right about one thing. There was chemistry between them, but Willow knew it was much more than that. With him everything felt familiar. When he touched her, it was as if he knew exactly how and where to touch her. He knew the things she found endearing and attractive. Being with him felt exciting and new, yet familiar and safe.

Her telephone rang. She picked it up willing her thoughts back to work.

“They tell me I can use the telephone now,” he said.

“James? Where are you?”

“On my way to Switzerland. A last minute deal came through.”

“Oh. I got your apology.”

“Do you like it?”

“I haven't tried it,” she admitted.

“Not your thing? I had you pegged for a chocolate lover.”

“I do love chocolate. I'll have some later after a long, hot bath."

“You make me want to turn this plane around.”

“Alone,” she added.

“Have you thought about my question?”

"No," she lied because she had thought of little else.

“I guess I have to work harder at changing your mind. I get back late Saturday. Let's talk over lunch on Sunday.”

He didn't wait for her to respond before hanging up. Clever, she thought though she really wanted to see him again.

Her doorbell rang insistently. Willow looked across to the clock, it was almost noon. It was Sunday. She got out of bed and pulled on a short silk robe over her long-sleeved laced top and matching boy briefs. She brushed her teeth quickly, ran a brush through her hair then went downstairs to answer the door. The doorbell sounded angrily through the house.

"I almost broke the door down," James said. "Oh."

He drank in the silk robe that did not make it mid-thigh.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It was a long night."

"No bother," he leaned against the door frame. "I like your lunch outfit."

"Give me a minute to get a quick shower and change," she said.

"No way." He pulled her into his arms and gave her a long kiss. He missed the way she smelled.

"James," she half protested as he broke the kiss and pulled her all the way through the entrance so she was leaning against him and he against the door frame. They were almost all the way out of the house. Willow felt cool air up her legs.

"What?" he asked as he started kissing her neck.

"Your company," she said referring to his bodyguards who were near his car.

He didn't answer. He loosened the knot on her robe. This time he moved with her inside the house and kicked the door closed. Willow went with him, kissing him greedily.

They made it to the sofa in the living room. Her arms locked around his neck. Willow felt his large warm hands under her shirt. She should protest, somewhere in the back of her mind the thought came, but her body wanted his touch, craved fit it in fact. Her hands tangled in his hair as she pulled him deeper into the kiss.

She felt his hands on her breasts as he teased her through the lacey fabric of her bra. He kissed across her jawline to her earlobe.

“I thought real food was on the menu,” she whispered against his ear.

He stopped. He removed his hands from under her shirt and placed them just above her head so he could support his weight while looking at her.

“Well, since you wanted to stay in bed I was silently volunteering another option,” he said.

Her hands slid down his back and he froze for a minute. He seemed to hold his breath as her hands continued down to his denim cladded buttocks.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

He moved away from her quickly when this time, her hands started under his shirt. She got up.

"I'll send Giles back to pick you up. Is a half hour good?"

"Yes."

He let himself out. Willow didn’t know what to think about his abrupt departure.

The front door was unlocked so she let herself in. He was on the telephone, but he walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Get it done," he said. "I have to go."

"Hey," she said.

"Hi."

The dress that would be simple on another body was anything but that on hers. For one thing though buttons ran the length of the dress, the top buttons were open all the way to her breasts. The dress stopped just above the knees, but it was the eye catching corset belt that started at the waist and peaked just below and between her breasts that turned simple into fantastic.

Lunch was already laid out on the deck, the sunshades pulled down low and two fans hummed gently in the breeze.

"I had wine, but since I got you out of bed, I made coffee."

Willow sat across from him. She poured coffee from a carafe on the table. He was having coffee as well.

“Are we going to talk about this morning?” she asked after taking a sip of the dark, rich brew.

“What is there to talk about?” he asked.

“Sunday night when you jumped off the chair, it was after I touched you on your back. This morning, you practically jumped out of your skin.”

“My demons,” he said quietly

“You have had quite a bit of a public-private life since you’ve been back. How does sex go if you get tense every time someone touches your back?”

“Sex in the dark and a bit of bondage,” he replied.

“Oh,” she said.

“I thought you wanted me to be honest.”

“Honesty is good. And just so you know, the former will not work for me. The latter I might enjoy.”

He chuckled. She was his perfect woman. He could not recall having a conversation like this with any other woman. She had a funny, sexy kind of innocence about her.

“Well, that is good to know,” he said. “Anything else you would like to add?”

“No, that’s it.”

“How do you expect me to go through lunch thinking about you in the latter?”

“The same way I’m going through lunch thinking you needed more room in your jeans.”

He laughed now.

“How can you possibly be single?” he asked.

“I wasn’t always this person.”

“What is this person?”

“Free,” she said. “Free.”

Something in her voice told him that there would be no more explanation. So he didn’t push.

"Have you thought about my proposal?" He cut into a thick piece of steak.

"Yes, and the answer is no," Willow replied.

"So, we’re going to do this the old fashion way?"

"Didn't you hear the part where I said, no?"

"Your lips said no, but when I touch you all I hear is yes. Is there a reason for your no?"

"Yes."

"I'm listening," he said.

"Dating sets the stage for longer relationships. I don’t want that. I don’t want any commitment of any sorts. So I have a counter proposal. It’s obvious we have some chemistry between us, so rather than invite me to lunch next time, how about some wine, candles and a box of condoms? It may very well be that once the deed is done all this chemistry will simply fizzle away."

Her jaw-dropping proposal stunned him for a few moments. James had a few one-nighters beneath his belt. It was part and parcel of being rich and famous. He had never asked another woman to be his permanent partner since coming back to England. He knew each lover hoped he would comeback more, regardless of his honesty. Here, he was telling her she could have more. She could have him all to herself if she wanted to. In his experience, women were always interested in more than just one night. They like the emotions, the soft stuff. She was different, though. Maybe that was what she meant by free.

“Wow,” he said. “I’ll have to think about that.”

“Okay, good. How was your trip to Switzerland?”

He was amazed at the ease at which she changed the subject. It was as if okay, first business is over, let’s move on.

They talked politics and current affairs during the rest of lunch. James was pleasantly surprised by how in-depth her historical knowledge was. She probably knew as much about politics as he did. It was refreshing not having to explain many of the little things.

"How were the chocolate truffles?" he asked as they later sat in a large rocker on the deck. She was having her third cup of coffee and he was having a beer.

"I haven't tried them as yet," Willow said.

"I will never buy you chocolate again," he said.

“Never say never,” she replied. “Sweets and I have a wonderful arrangement that keeps the waistline small. There’s never more than an ounce or two in the house.”

“So our next date is wine, candles, and condoms,” he said.

"Are you agreeing then?"

"I like where the wine, candles, and condoms lead, but, what if after our first go, we haven't fizzled out? What then?"

"Some chemical reactions take longer to achieve the required results."

James laughed remembering her other clinical definition of their attraction.

"So this could be more than a one night deal?" he asked.

"Sure."

"Now I can't wait for our next date."

"Well, you’ll just have to. I have a tough schedule for the next few weeks."

"Ah, you are such a tease," he groaned.