High Stakes

by Barbara Dunlop

  She glanced back at the glowing dot of the bonfire in the distance. “They’ll wonder what—”

  “I don’t care.”

  “We can’t just—”

  “Yes, we can.” He touched her chin, tilting her face up toward him, pulling back just enough to gaze into her gold-green eyes. “We can…”

  He took a deep breath, holding it, stepping dangerously far out onto a limb. “Do you want to come home with me, Candy?”

  The wind stood still.

  The waves seemed to stop.

  She stared, unblinking while his world paused.

  Then her lashes fluttered down and her hands convulsed against the back of his neck. “Yes.”

  HE NEEDED HER.

  Candice didn’t know about other women, but apparently those words floated her boat. On the ride from the beach to Derek’s house, it was all she could do not to beg him to pull over so she could jump him right there in the cramped front seat of the Porsche.

  She’d restrained herself, but barely.

  He parked the car haphazardly, and they raced up his front stairs. He closed the door behind them. The house was dark except for the glow of the yard lights coming through the big windows.

  Without a word, he took her hand and led her toward the stairs.

  “Housekeeper?” she asked.

  “Not tonight.” He strode for the top landing.

  His long legs let him take the stairs two at a time, and she struggled to keep up.

  He pushed open the door to a magnificent master bedroom.

  The blinds were up, and the lights from the yard filtered in through the paned windows. The ceiling was high. A block-patterned moss-green-and-gold quilt covered a king-sized, four-poster bed. And champagne armchairs framed a set of French doors that obviously led to a balcony.

  “Lights?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Wine?” he asked.

  Her chest tightened, and she took her courage in both hands, shaking her head again. “Just you. Now.”

  He pulled her into his arms, nuzzling her neck, planting small kisses that made her shiver. “Oh, Candy. If you knew how many times…I’ve pictured you right here.”

  His words warmed her. Her nerves settled. Jenna was right. She wasn’t seventeen anymore.

  “Pictured me doing what?” she boldly asked.

  He chuckled low. “I don’t think you want me to tell you that.”

  She cocked her head, pulling back to look him in the eyes. She gave him a mischievous smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

  His eyes darkened with passion as he drew in a shuddering breath.

  She wriggled her blouse over her head and stood in front of him in her wispy bra. “’Cause, if you don’t tell me, how am I going to know what to do?”

  “Candy.”

  “In my bedroom,” she continued. “I always pictured you naked.”

  “You pictured me in your bedroom?”

  She nodded meaningfully to his clothes. “Naked.”

  “Not a problem.” He stripped off his T-shirt and stepped out of his shorts, standing there big and bronze and beautiful.

  In the back of the limo, she hadn’t had a chance to look her fill. Now she did. He was spectacular, from the tip of his toes to his thick, dark hair and every inch in between.

  “Better than my imagination,” she said.

  With a grunt of satisfaction, he reached forward and tucked his fingers into the front waistband of her low-cut jeans, tugging her toward him. “I always pictured you in silk and satin.”

  “Got anything around here I should slip into?”

  He popped the button on the top of her jeans. “Nope.” Then he slowly slid down the zipper. “You got anything good under here?”

  “You tell me.”

  He brushed his knuckles across the front of her silk panties. “Oh, yeah.”

  Sensation shot through her, and she braced her hands on his shoulders.

  He pushed her jeans out of the way, and she leaned into his chest, kissing his pecs, tasting his salty skin, memorizing the feel and scent of his body.

  “You were on my bed,” he muttered against her hair. “Naked. Smiling. And I knew…I just knew…” He pulled back to look into her eyes.

  Candice snapped the clasp on her bra and let it drop to the floor. Then she shimmied out of her panties. She felt totally uninhibited in her nakedness—sexy, not at all self-conscious.

  Derek’s eyes turned slumberous, turning her on. She wanted this so bad.

  She took a backward step toward the bed, stretching out her arm to hold Derek’s hand, encouraging him to come along with her.

  He moved easily toward her.

  When the backs of her legs met the cool, smooth comforter, she sat down. “Like this?”

  “Lie back,” he rasped.

  She did, laying her head back on the silky throw pillows.

  He dropped to his knees on the floor beside her. “You’re perfect.” His tone was reverent. He trailed a fingertip along the curve of her waist, over her hip bone, skimming the top of her thigh.

  Then he smiled. “Think I’ll just sit here and watch you all night long.”

  Candice turned her head and raised her eyebrows. “Not much fun in that for me.”

  “You want more?” he asked with mock amazement.

  “Much more.”

  “Yeah? How’re you going to convince me?”

  She sat up, turning, dangling her legs over the edge of the bed, his face level with her breasts. “Is this a negotiation, Derek Reeves?”

  His gaze fixated on her breasts. “Everything between us is a negotiation.” He leaned forward and kissed one of her nipples.

  She moaned, tipping her head back, sliding closer to him.

  “Trouble is,” he said, kissing the other nipple, then pushing her back and slipping up between her legs until they were face to face. “You’re way better at it than I am. Crook your little finger, and I’m yours for life.”

  The slide of his body teased her tender skin. His sweet breath fanned her face. She inhaled, lifting her head, stretching to taste his mouth.

  He met her halfway, his body weight pinning her against the mattress, his mouth hot and hungry and confident. Sensation zipped through every corner of her body. She wrapped her arms around his broad back, kissing, suckling, holding him tighter and tighter.

  There was no way to get close enough.

  She bent her knees, bringing her heels up onto the bed.

  “Candy,” he rasped.

  “Now,” she moaned.

  “But—”

  She arched her back, spreading her arms wide on the bed. “My breasts for your—”

  He swore between clenched teeth. He was inside her before she could blink.

  Finally.

  Close enough.

  She wrapped herself around him, holding on tight while he kissed her, caressed her and thrust himself inside her over and over and over again.

  She wanted it to last forever, needed it to last forever, but too soon everything blurred in front of her eyes and Derek’s breathing rasped in her ears. The sweat was slick between them, and passion rose to nearly painful heights before he cried out her name and the world imploded.

  Aftershocks tingled through her body as she labored to catch her breath. Derek was heavy on top of her, but she held on, not wanting him to move. It was like floating in heaven. Every cell in her body was limp with satisfaction, and a mind-numbing glow warmed her soul.

  “Nobody does that to me,” she whispered in awe.

  “Nobody does that to anybody,” Derek whispered back. “I think we discovered a new plane of existence.”

  Candice nodded in agreement as the room came back into focus. Derek’s room. Where he’d pictured her.

  All those nights, while she was fantasizing about him, he was fantasizing about her.

  Amazing.

  “So, did I get it right?” she asked, half joking.

  His voice was serio
us, even reverent. “You got it so damn right.” Then he rolled onto his back, like he’d done in the limo, taking her with him, keeping them entwined, while taking his weight off her.

  He flipped the comforter over her back, smoothing it down, pushing her hair back from her forehead and stroking his palm down its length. “I have laid here so many nights thinking about you.”

  Candice’s chest expanded with joy until it was so tight it hurt. She had to ask. “How many?”

  “Afraid I lost count.”

  “When did it start?”

  “It started with that silly kiss in the Tunnel of Love. When I found out who you were. When I realized just how complicated our relationship was going to get.”

  She pulled back a couple of inches. “You’ve been hot for me all this time? Heck, I’ve only been fantasizing about you since—”

  “You always have to win, don’t you?”

  She paused. Okay, so he deserved her honesty. “I’ve been hot for you since the first time you lied to me. Guess you win this round.”

  He kissed her sweet mouth. “I think we both win this round. You want to check out my hot tub?”

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “Oh, yeah.”

  LATER, CANDICE LAY in Derek’s arms, spoon fashion, with him behind her, staring through the open French doors to the lights of Seattle across the lake.

  “Did I ever say thank you?” she asked.

  He chuckled. “No need to thank me. It was my pleasure.”

  She dug her elbow into his ribs. “For helping me with the Lighthouse designation.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yeah. That.” She relaxed again, picturing the finished restaurant in her mind. “It’s always been my dream, you know.”

  “A heritage restaurant?”

  “Heritage buildings. Honoring our history by preserving the past. You can’t quantify it in dollars and cents, but it makes sense deep down.” She stopped. “I guess you don’t understand that, do you?”

  “Explain it to me.”

  “I’ve always thought there were things in life more important than money.”

  “And you call yourself a Hammond?”

  She elbowed him again, more gently this time. “You’d make a better Hammond than me. I was always the black sheep, the artistic one, the impractical one.”

  “I thought you got along great with your family. What with the ongoing discussions of semen and all.”

  Candice smiled. “Oh, they like me well enough. They just don’t understand me.”

  His arms tightened around her. “That’s because you’re a complicated woman.”

  “You don’t understand me, either, do you?”

  “Not completely.”

  “You can’t understand giving up money for beauty.”

  His voice inched toward his debating tone. “I’m all for beauty. But there are some practical realities that have to be met before we have the luxury of focusing on art.”

  “Such as?”

  “Food, shelter, clothing…”

  “Most people in Seattle have food, shelter and clothing,” Candice countered. “What they’re missing is art, heritage and culture. That’s the food for your soul.”

  “Your soul can’t survive without a body.”

  “And there’s no point in having a body survive without your soul.”

  A moment passed in silence. “You think I have a soul, Candy?”

  The question startled her. “Of course you have a soul.” Sure, he was a hard-ass businessman, compelled to make money every single day of his life. But he was also a gentle and generous lover. And watching him goof off with his brothers tonight had shown her a touchingly human side.

  “Maybe just smaller than most,” he joked.

  Candice didn’t know how to answer that. She was beginning to suspect he had a seriously soft heart under that tough exterior.

  She was starting to hope she’d been wrong about him, starting to hope for something more than a quick fling. But that was a dangerous line of thinking. She needed to take this for what it was, not set herself up for heartache.

  “Maybe just smaller than most,” she agreed.

  They fell silent, as an evergreen-scented wind wafted through the window and traffic hummed softly on the faraway interstate. Derek’s breathing gradually evened out and his arms relaxed.

  Wide-awake, Candice gazed out over the city, telling herself their interlude was almost over. It was nearly two in the morning, and they had to make the presentation later that day at ten. After that, there was no reason for them to be together, no reason to continue their relationship.

  She gritted her teeth, reminding herself she’d gone into this with her eyes wide-open. She tensed, preparing to drag herself out of his warm bed and get on with the rest of her life.

  But before she could move, his hand tightened on her stomach. He wasn’t asleep, and his voice was a rough whisper in her ear. “Stay.”

  She froze. Stay?

  His words were strained, his muscles taut. “Just…” A full minute ticked by. “Stay.”

  One word. A single word. But it shifted the foundation of her life.

  She’d tried so hard to keep him out of her heart, but he was in solid, and there was nothing she could do to help herself. She felt a stray tear burn the back of her eyelid. “Okay.”

  He rolled her onto her back, kissing her gently on the lips.

  She kissed him back, holding him close, trying to sort out the chaos inside her. He was going to hold her all night long. They were going to wake up together in the same bed.

  Where were they going? What were they doing?

  He broke the kiss and pulled back.

  She stared into his dark eyes, searching for answers she knew he didn’t have. “Derek?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, Candy.”

  She touched his face, rough beneath her fingertips, nearly time for him to shave again.

  He kissed her gently one more time, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him tight, trying to absorb his essence and quell her fears. If this went wrong, she was going to get hurt so badly.

  12

  DEREK STOOD AT THE HEAD of the table in the small Historical Society boardroom in front of Myrna West and the five other board members, trying to keep his mind on the presentation and off of Candy. He hit a key on his laptop computer, bringing up the next historical photograph, launching into the story of Adele Albingnon and her seven Pekingese.

  But his gaze strayed to Candy, and he catapulted into the depths of her emerald eyes, in danger of getting aroused right here at the front of the room. The minute this was over, they were heading back to his place. He’d blow off his afternoon appointments and spend the rest of the day with Candy.

  Definitely.

  But that was later. Right now he had to get through the presentation without embarrassing himself.

  He quickly switched his attention to Myrna, then to William Swinney and Miriam Jones.

  That fixed it.

  He finished the Pekingese story, then turned up the lights. He passed around copies of the original architectural drawings and explained how the Canna Interiors renovation had restored features of the original building.

  “Excellent presentation,” said Myrna, beaming at her fellow board members.

  They all smiled and nodded in agreement.

  Derek dared a glance at Candy. Her face was flushed, her smile wide and her jewel eyes sparkled with joy. Apparently, this was almost as good as sex.

  Myrna opened a folder and retrieved a multi-page agreement. “There will have to be a final vote at our monthly meeting, of course.” She handed the agreement to Derek. “But I think I can guarantee the vote will be favorable. If you could sign pages six and eleven, I’ll have the board secretary send you an official copy after the vote.”

  Derek took the agreement, flipping through the pages, considering whether he should have the legal department take a quick look at it before he signed.
A clause on page seven jumped out at him.

  That couldn’t be right.

  He looked up at Myrna. “The board can veto a future sale?”

  She nodded. “I’m sure you can understand how the board will need a measure of control over the designated site.”

  “But we’re not going to sell the restaurant. It’s part of the hotel. We could lease it, maybe. But we couldn’t sell it on its own.”

  William Swinney spoke up. “But you could sell the hotel.”

  Derek stared at the man for a moment. “You expect me to give the Historical Society veto power over the sale of the Quayside? We’re only designating the restaurant as a heritage site, not the entire building.” Were these people out of their minds? Nobody would put a caveat like that on a hundred-million-dollar asset. The shareholders would go ballistic.

  “It’s a standard contract,” said Miriam.

  “Standard for whom?” asked Derek, the tone revealing his incredulity.

  “Standard for the Historical Society,” said Myrna.

  “I can’t sign this,” said Derek.

  “But…” Candy made a sound for the very first time.

  He caught her anxious gaze. He was sorry she was disappointed, but this was ridiculous.

  “It would be totally irresponsible,” he pointed out, just in case she wasn’t following the thread. “The asset would immediately lose market value, it would tie our hands….”

  He flipped through a few more pages. “This contract designates the entire hotel as a heritage site. Do you have any idea how that would compromise Reeves-DuCarter’s profitability position?”

  Candy blinked, and her gaze went flat. “And we wouldn’t want to do anything that would compromise our profitability position, would we?”

  Oh, great. She was on that bandwagon again.

  “I can’t let the shareholders down,” he insisted. Hell, they’d probably boot him off the Reeves-DuCarter board if he signed this document. They’d certainly be within their rights to revoke his vice presidency. Derek himself would draw and quarter any vice president who made a decision like this.

  “But it’s okay to let me down?” asked Candy.

  “It’s not the same—”

  Candy stood up, swooping her briefcase off the table. “No. You’re right. It’s not the same thing, is it? How silly of me.” She marched for the door.