Ripping the Bodice
A Ravenous Romance™ Modern Love™ Original Publication
Inara Lavey
A Ravenous Romance™ Modern Love™ Original Publication
Ripping the Bodice
Copyright © 2009 by Inara Lavey
Ravenous Romance™
100 Cummings Center
Suite 125G
Beverly, MA 01915
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.
ISBN-13: 978-1-60777-139-5
This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Chapter One
The sun was setting, orange and violet flames diving into the cerulean surface of the ocean. Cassandra stood silhouetted against nature's glory, her beauty rivaling the sun itself. Or so Rafe thought as he stared at her from the seawall at the edge of the beach. Glints of cinnamon, gold, and flame shimmered in the masses of her tawny mane. He could see her perfect profile etched in the colors of the sunset, the seductive curve of her breasts showcased by a low-cut bodice while a full red skirt both concealed and yet somehow accentuated her womanly hips and dancer’s long legs.
Those legs – Rafe had long imagined them wrapped around his waist as he satisfied his lust within her moist warmth. Yes, he’d imagined how it would be between them ever since he'd happened upon her bathing nude in the pond behind her father's plantation, never imagining anyone would be bold enough to watch her – or brazen enough to make his presence known.
Rafe smiled, his mouth curving in the dangerous yet sensual expression that had led so many willing women into his bed. So many women, and yet the one he most craved had so far eluded his desire. Tonight he would put an end to the chase. The verbal sparring between them had been exhilarating, but the time for such foreplay was at an end. He would have Cassandra Devereux writhing in ecstasy before daybreak. Yes, by God, she would be his.
He grew hard, the heavy cotton of his breeches straining against the strength and size of his rising lust. As if drawn by the sheer force of his desire, Cassandra turned away from her perusal of the ocean and looked towards the seawall. Their eyes met. Electricity crackled in the air between them, drawing them together as if connected by a physical current until they faced each other, only a foot apart.
"I knew you'd follow me out here." Cassandra's rich, sensual voice was husky with anticipation, fear of the unknown and desire warring within her. She knew there could only be one resolution to the tension between them.
"You know what I want, Cassandra." His cobalt blue eyes seared into her soul, the heat within his gaze creating a matching heat at the center of her being. If he could affect her so strongly with just the look in his eyes – she grew faint at the thought of what his touch would do to her. Cassandra felt herself growing – yes, wet – between her legs as desire coiled within her stomach and spread throughout her body.
"Y-yes." A pulse beat a rapid rhythm in the hollow of her throat, matching the rapidity of her heartbeat.
"You want it too." It was not a question.
Cassandra stared back at him, green eyes lambent with the flames of her growing need for him. She wanted Rafe Dumas with every fiber of her being. The touch, the taste, the smell of him. "Yes." Firmly, this time.
Rafe closed the final distance between them and brought his mouth down on Cassandra's in a demanding, possessive kiss, the searing heat of his lips wiping the memory of every previous kiss she'd had from her mind. No other man existed – past, present or future. His tongue explored her mouth, one hand buried in her hair and the other pressing her body against his so she could feel the bulge of his manhood against her loins. She moaned with desire as he ravished her mouth with his, then moved to the sensitive skin of her throat and shoulders, lips and tongue warm on her flesh, traveling slowly down to the rise of her breasts. Cassandra made a brief effort to stop him – surely, this was more than she could bear—and Rafe captured both of her wrists behind her back and held them there with one strong hand while he used his teeth to gently tease the peaks of her nipples beneath the fabric of her bodice.
"No going back," he said roughly. "From the moment I first saw you swimming at your father's Caribbean plantation, your eyes flashing emerald fire when I revealed myself, I knew I would make you mine. You know you felt the same way."
"Yes," Cassandra said breathlessly. "Since the day I saw you astride your wild black stallion, your lean yet well-muscled torso bare in the hot Caribbean sun, your expression so aloof, yet still able to touch my very soul, I knew I was meant to be yours. Take me, take me now!" she panted.
Rafe seized the fabric of Cassandra's bodice between both hands and ripped it down the front, setting the glory of her womanly globes tumbling free as—
Brrrrrrrrrrrrng!
I groaned as the phone rang, rudely pulling me out of my dreams of heaving bosoms and throbbing manhoods and back into my salt box office at Gilman's Paper Products. I'd been sneaking in a well-deserved R&R (reading and romance) break with Passion's Tropic Fury (now lying with a cracked spine on the floor) and had fallen asleep.
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrng!
"Damn. Right at the good part, too."
Reluctantly lifting my forehead off the pressboard surface of my desk, I surreptitiously wiped up a little puddle of drool that had formed during my impromptu nap. Romance heroines never drooled. Luckily, there was no dashing hero to witness my embarrassment.
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrng!
I glared at the phone. Could anything be more strident and irritating? I grabbed the receiver before it rang again.
"Gilman Paper Products, Cassandra Devon speaking. "
I groaned again – albeit silently – when I recognized my caller. I should have known better than ask rhetorical questions, even to myself. The voice on the other end of the line was the equivalent of nails on chalkboard mixed with broken glass, all stirred together with a lot of whine. Ethel Kelly, owner of Twee Fairy Stationery and a customer service manager's nightmare. In other words, my nightmare.
"Cassie, is that you?"
I gritted her teeth and girded her loins for battle. "That's Cassandra, Mrs. Kelly. And yes, it's me."
Mrs. Kelly ignored the correction, as she always did. "Cassie, that order of Baby Angel bags hasn't arrived yet and I ordered it two weeks ago." She paused for effect. "Two weeks."
"Let me check your order in the computer and make sure it was shipped."
This was a familiar game. Mrs. Kelly would place an order online, change it over the phone at least three times, then invariably lose track of it when it arrived at her store. I had originally pictured a labyrinth of Gilman Paper Products boxes stacked to the ceiling in cavernous storeroom. Having been to Twee Fairy Stationery to drop off a replacement for a supposedly misrouted order, I knew the reality was simpler; the missing box was in the store bathroom with a stack of pink Charmin on top.
I waited while my ancient PC pulled up the order – why Mr. Gilman refused to update the office's archaic computer system was one of life's great mysteries – and tuned out Mrs. Kelly's litany of complaints in favor of mentally packing for my three day Palm Springs getaway with my not-quite-boyfriend Mike. He was picking me up straight from work tomorrow, which meant none of my usual last minute tossing-in-whatever-I-grab-first routine (my preferred method for packing). Sure, it netted mixed results, but it was less stressful than picking and choosing, folding everything carefully and then ending up with the wrong clothes anyway.
The order came up and I reluctantly tuned back into Radio Kelly. "—three times since I placed that order. Three times."
"Here you go, Mrs. Kelly," I said brightly. "Yup, shipped out two weeks—"
"Two weeks!"
"Yes, two weeks ago, delivered UPS Ground on the following Tuesday. According to UPS's records, you signed for it."
"Are you calling me a liar, Cassie?" Mrs. Kelly's voice crackled with outrage.
"Of course not, Mrs. Kelly." I used my patented “soothing psychotic clients” tone, honed to perfection since Twee Fairy became one of Gilman's clients. "I'd never imply that. There was obviously a mix-up and—" I paused and listened to her squawk, then stepped back in with "—yes, I realize time is money.—" Squawk. "No." Squawk squawk. "Yes, of course." Squawk two weeks squawk. "I'll see to it immediately. " I punched the intercom button. "Jan, please tell Mr. Gilman that Mrs. Kelly wants to speak with him." I hung up the phone, opened a desk drawer and pulled out some of my emergency chocolate. I bought it compulsively, shoved it in drawers and cupboards at home and work. I was a chocoholic Survivalist, rich in See’s candy and Lindt bars instead of canned foods and ammunition.
A knock sounded at my door. "Come in!" I ripped open the wrapper and took a bite. Mmmm. Dark chocolate with orange. Just a hint of bitterness. Appropriate after my conversation with Twee Fairy Kelly.
The door opened and Stacy, our office admin, burst into the room. Stacy is a force of nature, a hurricane disguised as a petite blond twenty-something. She never just enters a room. She strides, whirls, explodes, sometimes dances, but never just walks. She favors bright primary colors and regrettable '60s fashions, like today's turquoise minidress and hot pink vinyl boots. I like Stacy, but she exhausts me.
I eyed the stacks of mail clutched in Stacy's French-manicured hands. "Oh, Stacy, that's not all mine, is it?"
Stacy dumped the lot of it on my desk with an apologetic shrug. "Sorry, Cassie."
I sighed. "It’s Cassandra, Stacy."
Stacy made a face. "But Cassandra is so old fashioned."
"What's wrong with that?"
Before she could no doubt tell me exactly what was wrong, Passion's Tropic Fury, still lying on the floor, diverted Stacy's attention. "Oh, you've got one of Rosalia Devereaux's first books!"
I tried to grab it, but Stacy had already swooped in and snagged it.
"I was just glancing through..."
Stacy was oblivious to my embarrassment. "Isn't she the best? I love her books! They're sexy and romantic, and the people are so real! I can't believe she's been writing since, like, the '80s!"
The tinny theme from Gone With The Wind heralded a call on my cell phone. I looked at the readout and recognized Mike's number. I answered it eagerly. "Hi, Mike!"
"Hey, Cass babe."
I winced, but didn't bother correcting him. At least he didn't use Cassie. "Hey yourself. Can you hang on for a sec?"
"Sure, babe."
Holding one hand over the speaker, I looked at Stacy, who was engrossed in the novel. "Would you like to borrow it?"
"No, thanks, I've already read this one," Stacy said, not taking her eyes from the pages. "I just like rereading the love scenes. They're so romantic."
"Isn't Jan calling you?"
"No." Definitely not getting the hint.
"Stacy, I've got a personal call."
"I don't mind."
"But I do," I said very gently.
She looked up from the book. "Oh. Do you want me to leave you alone?"
"That's kind of what I had in mind."
"Okay." Stacy smiled without malice and took one last lingering glance at Passion's Tropic Fury before setting it gently on my desk and leaving, shutting the door behind her with her usual enthusiastic slam.
Finally. I took my hand off the speaker. "I'm back. Sorry about that."
"S'okay, babe. I got all the time in the world for you." Mike was a deejay on a popular morning radio show and always sounded like he was on the air. He was dark and intense in a Gabriel Byrne kind of way, wore leather bomber jackets and designer jeans, and favored fifteen-year-old single malt scotch. We'd been dating for two months, had been having decent, if non-Earth shattering, sex for one month, and I was hoping the weekend away was Mike's way of taking our relationship to the next step: i.e. exclusive.
"I'm glad you called," I said, relaxing back in my chair, pushing a stray lock of brown hair out of my face. Just plain brown. No glistening gold or shimmering cinnamon highlights, although it was thick and wavy. I hadn't cut it in years, finding it easier and cheaper to keep it out of my face with industrial strength hair clips. "It's been one of those weeks and I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to this weekend."
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
"Mike? You there?"
He was. But our plans for the weekend weren't. Turned out Mike's best buddy decided to throw an impromptu bachelor weekend camping and fishing for Mike's other best buddy, who was getting married – six months from now.
No, they couldn't do it another time. This was the only weekend the entire fraternity was available. They'd rented a cabin in Big Bear.
Yes, he realized I'd canceled previous vacation plans in San Diego with my best friend, Valerie, to go away with him this weekend. He was "really sorry, Cass, babe, but the guys wouldn't understand if I don't go."
"So you have all the time in the world for me, except this weekend."
"I'll make it up to you next month. Or the month after, depending on the station's golf tournament dates."
"Sure, I understand."
"I knew you would, babe." I heard relief, but absolutely no guilt in Mike's voice. That sealed the deal.
"I understand you'd rather spend the weekend belching with your beer buddies than with me in Palm Springs." My tightly controlled tone began to rise.
"Aw, babe—"
"Don't worry about making it up to me next month...oh, or the month after or whatever month ends up working into your schedule, because I won't be around!"
"Now, don't be like that—"
I hit the “end call” button, turned my phone off, and jammed four squares of bittersweet orange chocolate into my mouth. Emphasis on the “bitter.”
As I chewed, I grabbed a letter opener and began ripping open my mail. Truth was, I was as pissed at myself as I was at Mike. I'd canceled my plans with Val to go to Palm Springs with Mike, so maybe this was just karmic payback. Okay, I'd given her two weeks’ notice instead of twenty-four hours. And she already had her plans made before inviting me to join her and share a free hotel suite courtesy of her cousin, who did some sort of advertising work for the hotel. But still, I'd essentially dumped my friend to be with a man. A man with whom sex was only so-so, although I hoped time would bring more “shattering” to the “Earth,” something currently supplied by a reliable vibrator. And now the man in question had dumped me to be with his friends. I swallowed the irony along with the rest of the chocolate.
I sliced open a thick cream vellum envelope, releasing an invisible cloud of fragrant and potent tea rose. I smiled even as my sinuses closed up from the olfactory assault. Tea rose was Val's signature fragrance; she'd been drenching herself and all correspondence (including bills) in it since I'd met her at college. I took a deep breath, held it and read the letter, written on hotel stationery:
Dear Cassie—
I hate that name.
It's too bad you couldn't make it down here, the weather's been perfect and the suite at the Esmeralda Hotel is just heavenly. Raphael and his friend Connor have been showing me all over Emerald Cove and the rest of San Diego and there's all sorts of fun people staying at the hotel. Hope you have fun in Palm Springs. I heard it's the rainy season there. Call me if you change your mind.
Love, Val.
Hmm.
Well, why not? I could get a plane ticket to San Diego with no problem. I had the vacation time and I needed the break.
I turned my cell back on, ignored the “new voice mail” notification, and dialed the number on the stationary.
""Hello? Yes, I'd like Room 15, please..."
Chapter Two
"Oh my God, he's such a hunk!" Stacy squealed. "Cass, can't I take first class this flight?"
Cassandra rolled her eyes. Stacy was always falling in instant lust with at least one passenger per flight and inevitably ignored all other passengers, making more work for her fellow stews. Best to nip this in the bud. "Stacy, you know Madge would be hacked off if we switch out assignments. And it's Cassandra, not Cass."
Stacy pouted. "I swear, Madge is such an old skank."
Cassandra bit her lip so she wouldn't laugh. “Skank” wasn't a word that fit the icy head stewardess's appearance or personality. “Bitch” and “ice-queen,” yes. She would never say as much to Stacy, who couldn't be trusted to keep it to herself. Right now, as Stacy's senior, Cassandra needed to flip Stacy's switch from Pout to Perky or they'd both get grief after the flight.
"C'mon, cheer up. I bet the guy's all show and no go. Most of those first class passengers are stuck-up jerks."
Stacy brightened. "You're probably right. And there was the cutest hunk in coach. I bet he'd like to fly me!"
Luckily, Cassandra was saved from replying by the call to take their positions. She touched up her frosted pink lipstick, adjusted her hot pink cap to the airline's preferred jaunty angle and smoothed her orange minidress over her long, tanned thighs. Her stacked-heeled go-go boots barely made a sound as she walked up the carpeted aisle and through the curtains separating coach from the first class cabin. Taking her place at the front, she waited for Madge to start the safety information speech, giving the passengers a quick scan for Stacy's hunk. She found him almost immediately, sitting in the first row directly in front of her.
She knew him.
Rafe. Rafe Dumas. The man who had shown her the meaning of passion when she was a young girl of eighteen, then broken her heart as carelessly and quickly as he'd won it.
This isn't happening, thought Cassandra as her emerald green gaze locked with his cobalt blue stare, eyes the color of the Aegean Sea. Thick dark hair waved back from a strongly chiseled face, sensual lips curving in a mocking smile as he took in Cassandra from top to bottom, pausing deliberately on the curve of her breasts. She felt the heat of his gaze as it moved down her legs, sweeping back up to her face.
"Hello, and welcome onboard PVA Flight 23 on route to San Diego..."
Cassandra was so shaken by the instant lust that swept through her body, she nearly missed her cue to start the pantomime demonstration for the safety information speech, but managed to point out the safety exits in time to Madge's voice over the intercom and show the proper way to fasten the seat belts. She got through the rest of the speech by looking straight ahead, deliberately avoiding Rafe's searing gaze, although she could feel its heat on her the entire time.
As soon as the safety speech ended, Cassandra hurried to the back of the plane, intending to tell Stacy she could have the first class station. Cassandra would rather deal with the repercussions from Madge than face Rafe again.
Stacy, however, was no longer interested in switching. "Thanks, Cass, but I've already cast my line out for the cute fish in coach and I think he's biting!"
Then Stacy would toss him back in the ocean because he wasn't big enough, like all the other fishes she'd reeled in. Cassandra kept this thought to herself; she needed all her wits about her to deal with the thought of offering Rafe coffee, tea..."or me."
Even after he’d shattered her girlish illusions, she still wanted him and the realization made her determined to do her job with detached dignity.
And she did, looking directly to the left of his head when she asked, "Would you like a beverage?"
"Chivas Regal, neat." He paused. "But you would know that, wouldn't you, Cassandra?"
Her nostrils flared with anger at his familiar tone. She pulled a little bottle of Chivas out of her cart, along with a plastic cup and a packet of peanuts, setting them all on his tray with more force than necessary.
She restocked her cart in the plane's kitchen, grateful for the momentary solitude before she had to go back into first class.
"You look good in the uniform, Cassandra."
She gasped, dropping a Coke can. It hit the floor and the pop top was compromised, sticky soda leaking out in a spray.
"You're not allowed back here," Cassandra hissed, grabbing the spraying can and tossing it into the sink.
"I doubt anyone will question the CEO of PFA Airlines," Rafe replied in his trademark drawl. He stepped through the door, blocking any escape.
"You've come a long way, haven't you?" she said, and it was not a compliment.
"Not far enough to get you out of my mind or my blood." He took another step, backing her against the counter.
"Save your lies." Cassandra braced her hands against the counter and glared up at him. "You left me when I needed you the most."
"And I've regretted it every day since. I was stupid and young, scared to tie myself down to anyone."
"Well, it's too late now. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to do my job. For your airline." Cassandra tried to push past him, but he might as well have been made of granite for all the good it did. "Get out of my way."
"Or you'll what?" he mocked her. "Complain to the head of the company?"
Rafe caught her wrist in an iron grip right before her open hand connected with his handsome face. "You always were a little wildcat," he muttered before covering her mouth with his in a bruising kiss.
At first she fought him, turning her head away from his kiss, pushing against his rock hard chest in a futile effort to escape. Rafe wrapped one hand in her hair and recaptured her lips with his, using all the seductive skills in his considerable arsenal until she melted against him, giving way to the desire that had always been lurking under the surface, waiting for his touch after so many years. He slipped a hand under her miniskirt, one finger insinuating itself between the silk of her panties and the warmth between her legs.
"Rafe, we can't..."
He stopped her protests with another kiss. "We can." He gave a tug and the fragile silk tore away from her body. "I'll buy you more," he murmured.
Cassandra capitulated in both mind and body. He stroked her silken folds, teasing her clitoris until she arched against his hand and begged him for more. In a matter of seconds, he'd unzipped his trousers and, with one thrust, entered her with the full length of his—
"Miss? Miss?" A gentle hand touched my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see the blurred face of Mark, one of the flight attendants on my Southwest flight.
"Ungh?”
"We've landed."
I blinked and fumbled for my glasses, which had fallen onto my lap next to Fly Me to Ecstasy, a '60s romance I'd picked up at Moe's, my favorite used bookstore in Berkeley. "Thanks."
"Sure thing." Mark smiled at me. "I hated to wake you up. You looked like you were having a great dream."
I turned fiery red. Luckily, Mark had already headed off down the now empty aisle. At least I hadn't drooled.
I collected my carry-on from the overhead bin, stuffing Fly Me to Ecstasy in with the other half-dozen or so paperbacks already in there. That I'd managed to fall asleep during an hour-and-a-half flight was testimony to the crappy night's sleep I'd had the night before and an even crappier day at work. Stacy had called in sick, no doubt wanting an early start to the weekend, so I was stuck with admin duties on top of handling the Mrs. Kellys of the world. Ugh.
By the time I got to the baggage area, my bags had already been disgorged, both bags going around the conveyer belt in lonely solitude. I wrestled them off before they vanished back into the throat of the carousel chute, then onto a luggage cart, cursing the indecision that had led me to pack two large suitcases full of clothes for a week's vacation. I shoved my carryall full of books on top where it tottered precariously, shouldered my admittedly large tote, and carefully wheeled my way outside to curbside arrivals where Val was hopefully waiting to pick me up.
* * * *
"Hurry up, Connor ! We're late! Cassie's plane's already landed!"
Connor obediently trailed behind Valerie, who was covering an impressive amount of airport parking lot for someone wearing three-inch heels. He refrained from pointing out they were late because she'd insisted on stopping at a See’s Candy on the way to the airport. If it had been about her cravings, he'd have happily busted her chops for it now, but she was currently carrying the two-pound box of chocolates for her best friend.
Valerie was an odd mixture of self-involved vanity and a generous heart. Blond, brown-eyed and gorgeous, with a slender frame accompanied by naturally large breasts, Val was definitely the high-maintenance type. Connor was glad he'd never fallen for her. He'd seen her in action with various boyfriends over the years. Conclusion? Not for him. He wanted a woman who didn't have to have her nails done on a weekly basis, who wouldn't fuss if her hair wasn't perfectly styled, and didn't spend every dime she made on expensive clothes. Not that he was stingy or didn't enjoy a little bit of effort on the part of a woman, but someone like Val was too much work. No, he wanted someone like—
"Cassie! There she is, Connor!" Val pointed across traffic lanes to the terminal where a disheveled brunette in glasses struggled with a luggage cart bearing two gargantuan suitcases, an oversized tote bag and a truly hideous olive-colored purse the size of Mary Poppins's carpetbag. The color matched her skirt and shapeless suit coat. She was, frankly, a bit of a mess. Ah well. He wasn't here to date her, so it was no matter to him.
* * * *
"Cassie!"
I heard Val's squeal of delight from across four lanes of airport traffic. I'd forgotten she could reach decibels that probably had dogs howling in the next county.
"Cassie!" There she was, dressed as chic as ever, yet jumping up and down like a five-year-old. I smiled tiredly, gratified by Val's obvious excitement and already exhausted at the thought of her boundless energy. It was about fifteen degrees warmer outside than it had been in San Francisco, and I was already sweating and ready for a shower and a nap.
Val waved again and dashed across the street, ignoring both the cabs jockeying for position along the curb and their angry honks and shouts. Of course, they might have been honking in appreciation of her stunning looks. She looked like something out of an Italian movie, wearing a short white linen sheath dress that set off both her tan and her figure.
Damn. I thought I'd outgrown it, but here I was envying both Val's figure and her wardrobe with the same feeling of inadequacy that I'd had at school. My Ross's Dress for Less office outfit, not fashionable to begin with, was creased and rumpled from a day at the office and the flight. My makeup had no doubt melted down my face and the less said about my hair, the better. I needed a shower, a glass of wine and a hairbrush, not necessarily in that order.
Val reached me, fling her arms around me in an enthusiastic hug. "Cassie, I'm so glad you made it!"
"It's good to see you too, Val." It was, even with my sinuses closing up protectively against the wave of tea rose wafting off of her. I'd take an allergy pill and a decongestant as soon as we reached the hotel.
"Oh! I almost forgot!" She handed me a huge box of See’s, slightly squashed from our hug. It was a testimony to how tired I was that I hadn't noticed it until now. Normally my chocolate radar is up and fully operational no matter the circumstances.
"Aw, thank you, Val."
As I juggled the box of chocolates and my purse, I lost my battle with cart and luggage. My carryall tumbled off the cart, disgorging a pile of paperbacks as it hit the ground.