Forgotten Father Read online

  Forgotten Father

  By

  Carol Rose

  Copyright Carol Rose 2011

  Published at Smashwords

  Cover image courtesy of Mark Stout & Dreamstime.com

  Cover by Joleene Naylor

  This ebook is for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be sold or given away. If you would like to recommend this book, please show that person how to purchase their own copy from smashwords. Thank you for respecting the hard work the Author has put in.

  ******

  CHAPTER ONE

  Delanie Carlyle looked across the crowded room and fell in love with Mitchell Riese.

  At least, that’s what it felt like, though she told herself not to be silly. How often did love at first sight actually happen?

  Still, when his hot blue gaze met hers, she registered a shiver of sensation down to her toes, as if some long-missing piece of her heart had suddenly clicked into place.

  It seemed natural that he looked away from her only long enough to murmur something to the man on his left, putting his unfinished drink on a nearby table, before he began to make his way toward her through the glittering cocktail crowd.

  With an arc of electrical current running between them, Delanie held Mitchell’s gaze as he came steadily closer, her breath suddenly tight in her chest. Lithe and powerful in his Armani tux, he seemed a dark-haired knight out of her fantasies, a tall, purposeful hero with eyes only for her.

  Who knew Donovan Riese’s grandson would be such a hunk? Even the formal portrait in his grandfather’s study hadn’t done him justice. Mitchell’s gaze bored into hers now, a sensual twist to his lips.

  Delanie felt the tiny hairs on her arms lift as if a breeze stirred the air in the stuffy, crowded room. Despite the illusion, she knew she stood some distance from the French doors opening onto the wide veranda. Beyond the room’s polished décor, in which she took great pride, lay a twilight panorama of forested hills and shimmering blue lake.

  Nearly as blue as his eyes.

  Breaking free of the last cluster of chattering guests, he came to a halt before her, the half-smile still on his face, a stomach-curling heat in his eyes.

  She loved him then, before he spoke a single word. It made no sense, but she knew it with a certainty that defied logic.

  “What took you so long?” she murmured, the words coming out with a husky flavor.

  “I got here as soon as I could,” he said, the smile in his eyes deepening.

  He stood looking into her face with an intensity that left her trembling inside. Though he never overtly scanned her body in the annoying way some men had, Delanie would have bet he registered every detail about her. The standard little black dress, the nearly-full glass sweating in her hand, the pulse fluttering at her throat.

  “Have you been waiting long?” Mitchell asked, reaching his left arm out to lean against the wall where she stood.

  Feeling bracketed between the white, wainscoted wall and the powerful, tux-clad man in front of her, Delanie met his stare. “I guess that depends on what you mean by long.”

  His smile widened. “Truthfully, any length of time in this crowd seemed long…until now.”

  Glancing away from him with a sudden, unaccustomed flash of shyness, she pretended to look around the room, most of which was blocked by his body. “I don’t know. They seem like a pretty friendly bunch of people.”

  “Possibly,” he said, reaching out to lift her left hand in his, “but no one else here particularly interests me.”

  Jolted by the heat of his touch, the sense of latent strength there, Delanie made no protest as he turned her hand over, palm down, and stroked his thumb along her bare ring finger.

  His gaze lifted to meet hers, satisfaction glimmering in his face.

  “If no one here interests you, why have you stayed?” she asked, the words intentionally sultry. Flirting came as natural to her as breathing, but both were difficult at this moment. Everything felt different.

  “I thought I was here to accommodate my elderly grandfather who requested my presence at the re-opening of his resort, but I realize now, I’m here to…meet you.”

  Delanie caught the glimmer in his eyes, the lust held in civil check. A hungry, sexual man on the make.

  Still, there was something else in those midnight eyes, something in his face that won its way past her easy social banter. As if he, too, knew loneliness, knew loss and disenchantment.

  In that fractional second, she wanted to draw him closer, to press her mouth against his until they merged into one complete being. Somehow she knew his soul was as incomplete as was hers.

  “And is coming all the way out to the wilds of New Hampshire worth…meeting me?” Delanie asked with an upward sweep of her lashes.

  “Yes.” The answer came with uncompromising swiftness, a decisive commitment to the moment hovering between them.

  She looked up at him, studying the forceful face, the sensual lips, the banked fierceness in his eyes. He would do everything that way, completely with no hesitation, no wavering in uncertainty.

  A thrill ran through her at the thought. No halfway measures for him. Here was a man to make her dreams come true.

  His broad-shouldered body blotting out the rest of the room, she felt enclosed. Surrounded. He held her wrist still in a loose clasp, his fingers warm on her pounding pulse.

  Delanie drew in a breath of the scorching air between them, raising her gaze to his again.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked softly, those eyes still devouring her.

  She laughed, the sound breathless. In her years of adult singlehood, she’d learned to play the dating game, had even found a talent in herself for delicately pursuing men who interested her, though she enjoyed being pursued as well. Never before, however, had a man leveled his sights on her so completely, never before had she felt so completely desired.

  Dragging her attention back to his question, Delanie ran the tip of her tongue over suddenly dry lips and released a lighthearted laugh. “Like everyone else, I’m here celebrating the re-opening of The Cedars Resort.”

  “Donovan’s Folly?” Mitchell asked with the faintest hint of mockery as he lifted her hand again in his, his thumb strong in the center of her palm.

  Her heart pounding in her throat, she struggled to stay focused on the words between them. “Don’t you like beautiful, old historic hotels?”

  “It keeps Donovan busy,” Mitchell replied absently, his hand drawing hers closer to his chest. Still braced on the wall beside her, he stood before her with no self-consciousness, no hint of uncertainty in his bearing.

  So close, so hungry,…so perfectly right for her.

  Someone passed behind him then, the chattering crowd making movement difficult. Mitchell shifted closer to her, placing her hand against his chest.

  They stood in the nook between the white wall and a potted palm, his arm still propped on the wall beside her, her hand splayed across the whiteness of his shirt.

  Delanie stared at his chest, her hand seeming small. Beneath her fingers, she felt the starched cotton of his dress shirt and hard, heated man. His heart pounded a heavy rhythm, strong and steady, the pace matching her own pulse’s erotic tempo.

  Glancing up, her gaze tangled again with his as he bent nearer. She drew in a soft gasp of air as he leaned in, blotting out everything else. Isolated here amidst a heedless, celebratory crowd, he was going to kiss her.

  She leaned forward infinitesimally, closing the gap between them. His mouth, so firm, hovered above hers.

  “Mitchell!”

  A man behind him, clapped a hand on Mitchell’s shoulder, breaking the moment as he drew him around.

  “Mitchell Riese! By God, I haven’t seen you in y
ears,” the other man said, pumping the hand he’d grasped when Mitchell swung round.

  “Arnie, good to see you.” Mitchell’s words seemed automatic.

  Delanie leaned against the wall as the men greeted each other. Dazed and overwhelmed by the emotions rioting through her, she waited for him to turn back to her.

  She’d always known it would be like this when she finally met the right man. One look, one glance of recognition, and all the world’s confusion fell by the wayside.

  This was it. She’d met her fate in Donovan Riese’s grandson.

  Now if only the old windbag pumping Mitchell’s arm would evaporate, they could go somewhere and…start the rest of their lives together.

  ******

  “It’s been great seeing you again, Arnie,” Mitchell said again, acutely conscious of the delectable woman beside him.

  “Let’s get together for drinks when you get back to town,” the older man said, as the crush of the cocktail crowd drew him away.

  “Call me,” Mitchell said, lifting a hand in final salute.

  Turning back to the redhead waiting for him by the potted palm, he saw her lips moving and leaned closer to catch her words.

  “What?”

  She drew in a breath, her mouth-watering cleavage rising slightly. “I said, maybe we should go out on the veranda. I’m sure it’s less crowded.”

  “Great idea,” he agreed, congratulating himself for snaring such a tempting morsel. Of all the women in the room, she stood out, her copper hair falling smooth and straight to her shoulders. But it was more than the color of her hair, he acknowledged, taking her hand again in his as they negotiated their way through the packed room.

  He’d come up from the city to attend to a family responsibility, to ascertain just how involved his grandfather was with the designing strumpet currently moving in on the old man’s bank account. But that didn’t mean Mitchell couldn’t squeeze in a little personal enjoyment, as well.

  Something about this woman drew him. The way she’d stood there near the wall chatting, her green eyes sparkling, a confident smile curling her lips. She radiated whatever it was that made men go to battle and wage war for the price of a kiss.

  Not that he’d ever done anything so stupid for a woman. Nor did he intend to, but this particular woman heated and intrigued him with one look. He’d seen her standing there in a small group of people and had given himself permission to follow the powerful urge to investigate the redheaded, long-legged beauty.

  With her slender hand tucked still in his, he moved through the crowded, over-heated room, wondering if she knew just how seductive her smile was and how potent the welcome in her eyes. He’d cut a decent-sized swath through the available women in his social group, but never had a woman’s eyes met his with quite the same expression. As if she had indeed been waiting for him a long, long time.

  Coming to the doors opening onto the veranda, Mitchell pulled her hand into the crook of his arm and went out.

  At the age of twenty-eight, he knew, of course, the dangers of believing everything in a woman’s eyes, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy her, just the same.

  Cocktail party-goers stood in clusters on the veranda as well, but the shadowed paleness of twilight lent an atmosphere of intimacy here.

  Mitchell led his prize to the white, painted railing above the immaculate green lawn that swept down to the lake. Now that they were out of the crowd, a breeze brushed in with the freshness of the coming night. In the dim light beyond the veranda, the scattering of white lawn chairs showed ghostly, their red and white awnings fluttering.

  His companion drew in a deep breath, looking out over the panorama that had made The Cedars a fashionable resort more than a hundred years ago.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” she said softly, “so romantic.”

  “Yes,” he said, moving closer to where she leaned against the railing.

  The light spilling out of the crowded salon barely reached them and the feeble fixtures overhead cast only the vaguest illumination. He stood with his back to the people scattered along the veranda, cutting off their view of the woman before him.

  The two of them were as alone as possible without actually leaving the party.

  With her face turned toward the lake, the woman displayed a profile as delicate and ethereal as the cameo his grandmother had owned. Only nothing about the rest of his companion reminded him of his grandmother. Her black dress was made of some kind of knit fabric that molded enticingly to her curvaceous body. Brief and effective, it’s wide scooped neck and short sleeves left a creamy display of skin.

  “Are you chilled?” he asked, abruptly drawing her attention from the view.

  She turned, looking up at him with the hint of a roguish smile. “No.”

  “Neither am I,” he said roughly, pulling her into his arms. Her gaze met his and in that long moment, he saw both heat and welcome. Bending forward, he claimed her mouth with his own.

  Delanie felt the brush of his lips, the warmth of his breath against her face…and tumbled head first into heaven. For a man all angles and planes, he had the most mobile mouth, soft almost, molding and sliding over hers, nibbling and sampling as if she tasted of nectar.

  He felt heated and hungry, needing and wanting, all at once. Never before had she been kissed. Not really. Not till this moment with his mouth on hers.

  Lifting her face to his, she gave herself over to a kiss that drew her in, drew her closer and sent her over the edge. The strength and power in his hands left her trembling as he cupped her face for his feasting. Longing and urgency swept through her with the force of a wild fire.

  Had she ever known such a perfect mating of mouths? Ever before lost her sanity in just one kiss?

  Clinging to his broad shoulders as he angled her face for the onslaught of his kiss, she felt awakened, yanked suddenly from her normal daily world into a brighter, hotter, better place. Had Sleeping Beauty felt this searing, coursing sense of life singing in her veins when the Prince at last roused her?

  A raucous burst of laughter sounded behind him, startling Delanie out of the heated moment between them.

  Mitchell dropped his hands at her jump and watched with burning eyes as she leaned back against the veranda railing, staring up at him in shock. It was as if the air around them were heated, the buzzy little molecules slamming into each other and leaving goose flesh along her arms.

  The ragged sound of his breathing echoed her own and Delanie knew she’d never find this again.

  She’d kissed her share of frogs before, certainly enough to know when she was staring Prince Charming in the face. Nothing had ever felt this right.

  He brought his hand up, stroking her upper arm, the glow in his eyes almost unbearable as she looked at him.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, his voice almost inaudible.

  Knowing they had a lifetime of mundane moments ahead, Delanie ached to cling to this breathless, magic aura, this unspoken connection of souls.

  Unwilling to leave the magic, she shook her head, reaching up to slide her hand along his neck and draw him back to her kiss.

  “Just…take me,” she begged.

  ******

  Shutting the door to his room and hearing the locks click home, Mitchell turned into the darkened room and gathered his woman into his arms. With her erotic invitation searing a pathway to his brain at lightening speed, he’d kissed her hard and brought her to his room.

  No words spoken. No names.

  If that was the way she wanted it, he’d go along and rejoice in his good fortune. What functionally intelligent single man wouldn’t do the same with a woman like this?

  Drawing her tight against him as they stood in the darkened suite, Mitchell savored the feel of her against his body. Through his evening clothes and her skimpy little dress, he felt the imprint of her body, the softness of her breasts, the firmness of her thighs. Pulling her in, he bent his head and met her open mouth. Lips and tongues, breath mingli
ng harsh in their throats.

  He let his hands roam over her back, from the tapered curve of her waist to the delicate bones of her shoulders, he kissed her while his hands mapped out new, breathtaking territory. Meeting his kiss with a hunger as hot as his own, she clung to his lapels and pressed herself to him.

  No awkward wooing here, no hesitant pauses. Just lust and longing like he’d never before known.

  Taking her sweet warm tongue into his mouth, he swept his hands lower, down over the flare of her hips, down to the curve of her bottom. Cupping her, Mitchell lifted and raised her straining body against his arousal.

  A wild mating sound broke loose in her and he lifted her, carrying his prize into the bedroom where a king-sized four-poster waited. A faint light shone from the shuttered window, casting moonlight through crevices.

  Sitting her down on the bed, Mitchell stepped back, tearing off his dinner jacket and yanking at the tie around his neck. In seconds, he was bared to the waist, shirt studs pinging as they scattered.

  She waited for him on the bed, sitting there in the faint light, her copper hair mussed, her eyes wide. With a hint of innocence in the movement, she slowly nudged off one heel and then the other, before dropping them on the floor beside the bed.

  Something about the way she did it slowed Mitchell down, gentling the blood thundering in his head. Instead of throwing her back on the bed and entering her without pause like a conquering warrior, he went and sat next to her.

  Cradling his palm against her smooth, ivory cheek, he drew her mouth to his and kissed her slowly. She tasted of surprise and sunshine, of stark, straight-forward sex. Nothing practiced, nothing too skilled, but sweet, soul-stopping copulation. Mitchell burned. Just kissing her, holding her against his body as they lie back on the bed, made his skin tighten, made every sense riot for her.

  She nestled in his arms, one hand clinging to his bare shoulder, the other pinned tight against his stomach. Small against him, pale against his darkness, soft next to his hardness. Every part of him felt hard, taut with arousal, consumed in a moment without any thought, but kissing her, possessing her.