Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 31

"You might," she returned, "especially if you found out beets were being served."

He shuddered visibly and pulled out the empty chair beside her. "I've got news for you, sweetheart. As much as I'm coming to despise those wretched things, I told Ethan about your latest craving, so they are being served."

Looking amused, Ethan rounded the table and took a seat beside Gwen. "Peter and I just checked," he told Lucy. "There are enough warm beets back there to turn you purple with glee."

"Good, because I'm hungry enough to eat a horse and three sheep."

"So much for the delicacies of pregnancy, huh?" Ethan said in an aside to Gwen, leaning against her for a brief moment.

Heat branched out and spread through the rest of her body from just the small area of her arm, from shoulder to elbow, he touched with his own. She s.h.i.+fted quickly, wis.h.i.+ng she didn't have this reaction to him every time they came in contact, but the sensation remained.

"Dinner will be a few more minutes," Ethan announced, pouring a gla.s.s of wine for Peter and himself.

"Oh, that's all right." Lucy grinned as she rested her elbows on the table, propping her chin on her steepled hands. "Gwen was just telling me about the two of you. How you've been going at it hot and heavy."

Gwen's mouth dropped open and worked like a fish struggling for oxygen out of water. She heard a gasping noise and realized it was coming from her.

Her gaze shot to Ethan. She expected to see his eyes narrowed, his mouth turned down in a frown. If she had been in his place, she would have been furious. Instead, his hazel eyes sparkled and his lips curved as he laughed.

"Is that so? I hope she didn't tell you what we did with the trampoline and chocolate sauce. That story is a little risque, and I thought we should keep it to ourselves."

Lucy giggled like a schoolgirl while Peter's brows shot up, and Gwen saw her life flas.h.i.+ng before her eyes.

Could this night get any worse?

First she'd had to dress up and pretend to be the same woman she'd been on her birthday, even though that woman was a figment of everyone's imagination.

Then Ethan's friend cornered her and made her think she was possibly supposed to be his fake girlfriend.

And now they were sitting around discussing bizarre s.e.x acts that had never happened.

"Actually, I was teasing," Lucy said, "but if you'd like to regale us with the trampoline and chocolate sauce story, I'd love to hear it. Peter and I are always looking for new and creative techniques to try out in the bedroom."

"All right, all right," Peter cut in, throwing up his hands in front of his face as though to ward off any more s.e.xual repartee. "Enough. I really don't need to hear any s.e.x talk while I'm at dinner with my pregnant wife and another lovely young woman."

Gwen wanted to kiss him. And then she wanted to jump up and kiss the catering staff, who appeared a second later with four plates of leafy green salad and burgeoning shrimp c.o.c.ktails to begin the meal.

After napkins had been shaken out and spread on laps and a bowl of beets brought for Lucy, they began to eat. Gwen even started to relax, thinking that the food would act as a distraction from what they'd been discussing only moments before.

She should have known she couldn't be so lucky.

"I'm sorry if we embarra.s.sed you," Lucy said, breaking the silence and offering Gwen a comforting smile as she dabbed her lips. "We were just poking fun, the way good friends do, but we shouldn't have done it at your expense. You definitely haven't known us long enough to realize we didn't mean anything by it."

"That's all right," Gwen a.s.sured her. "I didn't take offense."

She had been embarra.s.sed, but only because she was so unsure of herself and feeling so much out of her element. Sharing s.e.xual experiences wasn't a typical pastime of the middle-aged librarians she worked with. They tended to gossip more about what books were hitting the bestseller lists.

"Still, let's change the subject," Lucy said.

Yes, please, Gwen thought desperately.

"We came here tonight to get to know you, not to make you squirm. So tell us a little about yourself, Gwen."

No! Please, no!

"Where do you work?"

Oh, G.o.d. What should she do?

She'd managed to avoid this conversation with Ethan until now, but it seemed she wasn't going to be able to avoid it any longer. Lucy had no idea what she was asking...or how fast Gwen had to mentally race to come up with an acceptable answer.

"I...um. I'm a buyer."

That was a real job, wasn't it? She blurted the words before she'd even realized her mouth was open, but she thought for sure she'd heard it discussed on television as an authentic occupation. Of course, that had been on a popular sitcom rather than some true-to-life doc.u.mentary or news story, but still...

"Really? That's fascinating," Lucy replied, stabbing a forkful of lettuce on her salad plate.

"What is it you buy?" Peter asked.

Ethan, she noticed, remained curiously silent. From the corner of her eye she saw that he was watching her intently.

She shouldn't be surprised. This was news to him, too, and he was probably just as eager as the others to hear the details of her so-called job as a "buyer." Of course, he couldn't ask any questions of his own or his friends might wonder why he didn't already know all this about her-his supposed current love interest.

"Clothes," she volunteered in response to Peter's inquiry. "I'm a fas.h.i.+on buyer for several high-end department stores and a few local boutiques."

Well, now she was downright stealing from that sitcom. But was it her fault she spent most of her evenings home alone, reading in front of the television? Or that the show had inadvertently supplied her with a job description that seemed to fit her alter ego to a T?

"Oooh, that explains your fabulous dress," Lucy gushed with enthusiasm.

Gwen glanced down at herself. "Yes," she lied. "I purchased a few of these for a small boutique downtown and ended up buying one for myself."

"Maybe we can go shopping together sometime. It will have to wait until after the little rugrat is born, though," Lucy added, patting her stomach, "because I don't plan to add any more nice clothes to my wardrobe until I can fit into them again."

Gwen smiled, relaxing a bit at having the conversation turn away from her. "When are you due?"

Lucy sighed. "Two more months. I can't wait."

She reached out to squeeze her husband's hand and they exchanged a look that made Gwen's heart lurch. The affection between them was obvious, but also almost painful to someone like Gwen who had never experienced anything even close to it.

"Peter is more nervous than he likes to let on," Lucy continued, "but I'm looking forward to motherhood, as well as getting my figure back."

"Nervous, h.e.l.l," Peter grumbled around a mouthful of shrimp. "I'm petrified."

Lucy fussed over him for a few seconds, telling him he had nothing to worry about and that he would be a terrific father.

Ethan rolled his eyes. He'd seen and heard this exchange from his friends before, ad nauseam, and decided to tease them a little.

He leaned toward Gwen just as the main course was being brought out. "Sorry about this," he told her in a stage whisper. "Guess I should have invited someone other than these old, married folks to keep us company tonight."

"Hey," Peter snapped good-naturedly. "Wait until it's your turn. Someday while you're whining and fretting over the impending birth of your first child, I'll remind you of how unsympathetic you were with us. Not that there's a chance in h.e.l.l of that happening anytime soon."

"You never know." Ethan waggled his brows and nuzzled the area just below Gwen's ear with his nose. "I have been throwing out a few feelers lately, trying to see who might be interested in bearing the next set of Banks descendents."

He didn't know why he'd said what he had. In his peripheral vision, he saw Peter and Lucy exchange curious glances, but he was more interested in Gwen's reaction to such a blatant remark.

He wasn't disappointed. An attractive blush started above the bodice of her delectable red dress and traveled up her neck to turn her cheeks a bright pink.

He liked that. He liked the sense of innocence that surrounded her.

Maybe her shyness this evening was an attempt to impress his friends, which he could certainly respect. And if that was the case, he probably shouldn't tease her...at least not in any way that his friends might notice.

But there were other ways.... Oh, yes, there were other ways.

The waiters cleared away the first-course dishes and replaced them with gently steaming entrees-thinly sliced strips of beef in a burgundy glaze, lightly salted new potatoes, and crisp string beans sauteed in garlic b.u.t.ter and topped with slivers of almond.

"This looks delicious, Ethan," Lucy commented. "Your caterers are very talented."

"Thank you. I hired them myself," he quipped.

Peter nudged his wife with his elbow. "Didn't I tell you he was smarter than he lets on?"

"You guys are a real laugh riot. Don't listen to them," he told Gwen, s.h.i.+fting his chair an inch more in her direction. "I can actually cook, just nothing like this. And I was trying-" he shot his friends a withering glare "-to impress you."

Gwen finished chewing the bite of potato in her mouth and swallowed. "Oh, I'm very impressed. It must have taken nimble fingers and exceptional telephone skills to call up the caterer and hire them for tonight."

"Ho-ho!" Peter let out a gut-level bark of laughter. "Watch out, Ethan. She's got your number already."

"I'm sorry," Gwen said, lowering her gaze and absently laying a palm on his thigh. "That wasn't very nice of me."

Hot flashes of awareness streaked outward from her fingertips, heading straight for his groin. But d.a.m.ned if he was going to let an opportunity like this pa.s.s him by.

Quickly, before she could draw her hand back, he covered it with his own and held it in place.

"No, it wasn't," he said softly. "But since my friends' questionable sense of humor seems to be rubbing off on you and I'm the one who made the mistake of inviting them, I won't hold it against you. Besides, you're right. I didn't do much more than pick up the phone and hire these guys to cater a dinner party. You'll just have to let me prove my culinary skills to you some other time."

He looked away from her a moment to scowl at Peter and Lucy. "At my place. Alone. Without risk of comment from the peanut gallery."

She flexed her fingers, attempting to pull away, but he held her hand firmly in place. As though nothing out of the ordinary was going on, he picked up his fork with his left hand and continued to eat.

Seconds ticked by before Gwen seemed to realize she wasn't likely to get her hand back without an attention-drawing battle, and she didn't seem willing to cause a scene in front of his friends-which was exactly what he'd been counting on. With a sigh, she relaxed her arm and picked up her own fork.

Ethan concentrated on chewing to cover the grin that threatened. So far, so good.

The atmosphere in the room had s.h.i.+fted subtly, and the four of them ate in silence for several long minutes before Lucy started chatting about the weather and local events in the Georgetown area. G.o.d bless Lucy, he thought. She saved the dinner party from dying a painful death, and everyone else from having to rack their brains to come up with small talk.

Ethan nodded and occasionally offered the appropriate response, but the rest of his efforts were concentrated on letting Gwen know just what he had in mind for later. Long after the plates and gla.s.ses and flowers and candles had been cleared away. Long after they'd said their good-byes, and Peter and Lucy were on their way home.

Under the table his right hand caressed Gwen's soft, supple skin. The top of her hand, her long, thin fingers, the delicate bones of her wrist. When she didn't rush to pull her palm from his thigh, he moved higher, running the pads of his fingers in a slowly climbing circular motion up the length of her arm.

After reaching her elbow, he surrept.i.tiously slipped his hand onto her thigh, high up where the skirt of her dress bunched from her seated position.

Gwen coughed, then carefully lifted her left hand from his leg and drew her arm back to her side. Surprisingly, she didn't try to dislodge his hand from where it now rested on her thigh.

They were sitting no more than an inch apart, close enough to brush against each other when they moved. Close enough for their knees to touch, which he made a point of doing. Luckily, their proximity and the height of the table kept Peter and Lucy from noticing that he was playing-or trying to play, anyway-with his date, who was directly across from them.

He continued to carry on a fairly intelligent conversation, while at the same time keeping his knee pressed tightly to Gwen's and trailing his hand along the line of her thigh until he reached the scalloped hem of her dress. His fingers fiddled there for a minute, feeling the difference in textures between the lacy overlay of her dress and the silky smoothness of her hosiery.

The catering staff returned then to clear away the dinner plates. Before they came around to his side of the table, Ethan reluctantly removed his hand from Gwen's lap. After all, it wouldn't do for complete strangers to see where his hand was. He s.h.i.+fted in his chair, putting a more respectable distance between them, at least for the moment.

The waiters placed smaller plates in front of each person at the table and then quietly disappeared again.

Ethan had wanted to order tiramisu, a personal favorite and a specialty of the catering company, but he knew it contained alcohol and was afraid Lucy wouldn't be able to eat it in her current condition. So he'd opted for baked Alaska instead.

On the other side of the table, Lucy dug into her ice cream dessert as though she hadn't just devoured a full three-course meal, in addition to an entire vat of beets. He grinned at the look of pure pleasure that crossed her face as soon as the baked Alaska touched her tongue.

"Mmm. This is marvelous." She turned to her husband. "We have to use these people the next time we're in the market for a caterer."

Peter nodded in agreement.

Ethan was about to take a first bite of his own dessert when he felt something brush his leg.

The sensation came again. A flutter of movement that unmistakably became a caress.

Heat lightning struck him, running from his toes all the way up his body. He was surprised the top of his head didn't blow off from the impact. Razor-sharp awareness and longing gathered in his groin, threatening the strength of his zipper.

With his lips tightly locked, he coughed and waited for the ice cream portion of his dessert to melt its way down the back of his throat while he stared at Gwen with bugged-out eyes.

From the smug expression on her face as she continued to enjoy her dessert, he didn't think he was wrong.

This woman, who turned pink at the slightest innuendo and had looked as if she wanted to drive her fork into his fingers when he'd dared to slip his hand under the hem of her skirt, knew exactly what she was doing.

She was suddenly, voluntarily, wantonly...playing footsie. With him.

Eight.

I nside her head, Gwen did a little happy dance at Ethan's reaction to her stocking-clad toes ma.s.saging the hard curve of his anklebone. It brought her more than a little pleasure to see him on the defensive end of a game he'd started.

The turnabout made her feel wild and powerful and s.e.xy...like the woman he thought her to be. The woman she wished she could be in real life.

But for tonight, she could be that person, couldn't she? It was expected of her.

Pretending nothing out of the ordinary was taking place on their side of the table, she drew her foot away from Ethan for a moment to s.h.i.+ft into a better position to carry out exactly what she had in mind.