Spring fancy

He hauled her hip against his, and his hand rode higher up her side, almost to the armpit, fingertips extended toward her breast. 'Find me that corner and I'll show you.'

She laughed and they rounded a corner, then walked down a broad central hall and eventually came upon what must have been a butler's pantry in its day. Pushing open a swinging door, they found a long narrow room with built-in glass-doored cabinets on their left, bearing wide storage drawers for linens and silverware. There was another swinging door at the far side of the walk-through and to their right a broad window rising from a waist-high counter top to the twelve-foot ceiling. The blue sky beyond was framed by an arching tangle of ivy vines, bare of leaf now, but swollen with buds.

When the door swung closed behind them, Paul confiscated her basket of flowers, set it aside with careful deliberateness, then circled Winnie with both arms, pulling her securely against his body as he dropped his head to kiss her and pressed her hips back against the rounded edge of the ivory-painted cabinet below the window. 'Mmm…' he murmured as his tongue slipped seductively into her mouth, which opened willingly. His head moved, and his hand pressed the side of her breast, then kneaded it firmly.

'Mmm…' she echoed into his mouth, smiling beneath his open lips, running her hands over his smooth back.

He lifted his head and backed away only enough to see her but still held her prisoner between himself and the cabinet. 'If you look even one-quarter this tantalizing on our wedding day, I'll have a hard time keeping my hands off you in front of the entire congregation.'

She ran her fingertips demurely under both of his lapels. 'Well, now, wouldn't that be something? The unflappable Paul Hildebrandt, losing control. I think I'd like that.'

'I'm far from unflappable where you're concerned, and you know it.'

She kissed his chin. 'Not in public, you're not. Otherwise you would have kissed me back there in the entry instead of sneaking off into this pantry with me.' Was it a subconscious wish to show Jo-Jo Duggan her fiance desired her that made Winnie voice that comment? She pushed Duggan from her mind and lifted up on tiptoe, seeking Paul's mouth again. But in the middle of the kiss her hat began slipping, and she jerked free, both hands flying up to the long pearl-headed hat pin.

'Oh, shoot. We're not done taking pictures yet, so I have to keep this thing on and make sure my hair doesn't get messed. But I'll be able to get rid of it at the dance tonight, then we can take up where we left off here.'

With characteristic seriousness Paul backed away from her and slipped a hand into his trouser pocket. 'About the dance, Winnie…'

Already her hands were on her hips-angrily. 'Paul Hildebrandt, if you tell me you're not staying for the dance, I'm going to throw a fit right here and now!'

'Winnie, quiet down before somebody finds us in here. It isn't that I won't stay for the dance. I'll just have to leave a little bit earlier than I expected.'

She tucked her lips against her teeth and made a pair of tough fists. 'So what is it this time? Did the Almighty decree that he needed the lowly Mr. Hildebrandt to process some data before-'

'Winnie, you're being shrewish again.'

'Shrewish!' She spun to face the window, presenting her back. 'I have a right to be shrewish after you promised.' She whirled again to face him. 'You promised. You said we'd dance until the last dog was hung, and that nothing would make you miss it. So what came up?'

'Must you sound so antagonistic?'

She considered his question seriously. 'Yes. Yes, I must, because I'm sick and tired of taking a back seat to your computers and your incessant late hours. It is your contract work again, isn't it?'

'They need it by Monday, and this extra money is going to come in so handy when we move into the house.'

'Paul, how many times do I have to tell you, I don't care about the house. I can live with a card table and two chairs and a pair of fifteen-dollar bean bags! I don't need four thousand dollars' worth of carefully chosen decorator furniture. We'll have the rest of our lives to buy furniture. Now-especially tonight-I wanted to be ours.'

'I know.' His voice was repentant, and he slipped his hands inside the bell-shaped sleeves of her lace overdress, running them up past her elbows. 'I know, Winnie, but I have… ideals. Goals. And one of them is seeing that you start with nothing but the best. Everything you deserve. You know I've given my solemn promise to your mother that I'd see to it.'

But the subject of her mother was one Winnifred could not quite confront head-on in relationship to Paul Hildebrandt. If she voiced her true feelings on that score, she feared she'd sound neurotic, or at the very least, petulant. She dropped her head forward, staring at the crisp crease in Paul's trousers as she sighed deeply.

'Yes, I know,' she replied wearily. She lifted her head. 'I'm sorry I complain about it, but I… you…' How was it she always ended up feeling the one in error when this argument erupted between them again and again? His motives seemed very noble on the surface, and her complaints so juvenile, as if she were a spoiled child who demanded more attention after getting her just dole.

She circled his neck loosely with both hands. 'Paul, I just wanted today to be special. I feel special, dressed up this way. And I know you'd like to see me dressed up more often than you do. I thought you'd want to be with me.'

'I do. And I am.' He kissed her nose and looped his hands loosely behind her back. 'I can stay for a couple of hours.'

'During dinner?'

He brightened and smiled. 'Yes, during dinner and for a few dances.'

She studied him with a new, disturbing insight, recalling Joseph Duggan's words: 'That's the first sign of a healthy relationship between you and your fiance that I've seen yet.' Paul Hildebrandt was all the things a sane woman wanted in a husband. Hadn't her mother reiterated the fact time and again during the past two years?

She sighed again and leaned back against the cabinet edge, pulling him with her. His weight felt secure, pressing against her hips again. She pulled his head down, forgetting about the hat, commanding him to kiss her with a full exchange of tongues that grew into a greedy seeking of body pressure. Her hat fell off. She raised up higher, forcing her curves into his coves, wishing to assure him she would and could be content with a couple of hours with him.

'Paul, I love you,' she said ardently against his neck. He smelled of Pierre Cardin cosmetics, as he always did-nothing but the best when it came to image, he always claimed. The clothes make the man. First impressions last longest. He was always clean, flawless and fragrant.

'I love you, too,' he said, bracketing her face with his long tapered hands that were ever as immaculate as those of any dentist.

What's the matter with me tonight, she wondered. Why am I assessing him so caustically when he has no outstanding faults? Am I searching for some all of a sudden, after what Jo-Jo Duggan intimated?

'It's time I got back. They'll be seating the wedding party at the main table soon. I can't hold things up.'

'Oh.' A shadow crossed his handsome green eyes. 'I guess that means I can't sit with you during dinner.'

'I'll be seated next to the best man. But we can dance the first dance afterward, all right?'

'I'll mark your name on my program.' He grinned, handed her her basket, and turned her toward the swinging door.

The main hall was emptying, but Joseph Duggan was waiting near the archway to the dining room.

'Ah, there you are. They're seating the guests first, Hildebrandt, and they've already sent out the call.' He noted Winnie's flushed face and that unmistakable swollen look of a woman who's just been well kissed. She'd had a faint sheen to her lips before slipping off with the computer man, but it was all gone now. He noted also a coolness as she told her fiance, 'I'll see you after dinner, Paul.'

Hildebrandt left them and disappeared into the dining room. Winnie felt Duggan's eyes assessing her, missing nothing. He wore no grin this time as he advised, 'You got a little bit messed in there. There's a hank of hair hanging from under the side of your hat, and you could use a touch of lipstick-for the camera, of course,' he finished sardonically.