by Nora Roberts
breath as he dug his long fingers into her hips to keep her moving with him. Then a film was over her eyes—a white, misty film that hazed her vision. She pressed her hands to his chest to keep from falling. But she was falling, slowly, slowly, drained of everything.
When the mist cleared, Ryan found she was in his arms with his face buried in her hair. Their damp bodies were fused together.
“Now I know you’re real, too,” Pierce murmured and helped himself to her mouth. “How do you feel?”
“Dazed,” Ryan answered breathlessly. “Wonderful.”
Pierce laughed. Rising, he lifted her into his arms. “I’m going to take you to bed and love you again before you recover.”
“Mmm, yes.” Ryan nuzzled his neck. “I should let the water out of the tub first.”
Pierce lifted a brow, then smiled. With Ryan half-dozing in his arms, he wandered the apartment until he found the bath. “Were you in the tub when I knocked?”
“Almost.” Ryan sighed and snuggled against him. “I was going to get rid of whoever had interrupted me. I was very annoyed.”
With a flick of his wrist, Pierce turned the hot water on full. “I didn’t notice.”
“Couldn’t you see how I was trying to get rid of you?”
“I have very thick skin at times,” he confessed. “I suppose the water’s cooled off a bit by now.”
“Probably,” she agreed.
“You use a free hand with the bubbles.”
“Mmm-hmm. Oh!” Ryan’s eyes shot open as she found herself lowered into the tub.
“Cold?” He grinned at her.
“No.” Ryan reached up and turned off the water that steamed hot into the tub. For a moment she allowed her eyes to feast on him—the long, lean body, the wiry muscles and narrow hips. She tilted her head and twirled a finger in the bubbles. “Would you like to join me?” she invited politely.
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
“Please.” She gestured with her hand. “Be my guest. I’ve been very rude. I didn’t even offer you a drink.” She gave him a sassy grin.
The water rose when Pierce lowered himself into it. He sat at the foot of the tub, facing her. “I don’t often drink,” he reminded her.
“Yes, I know.” She gave him a sober nod. “You don’t smoke, rarely drink, hardly ever swear. You’re a paragon of virtue, Mr. Atkins.”
He threw a handful of bubbles at her.
“In any case,” Ryan continued, brushing them from her cheek, “I did want to discuss the sketches for the set design with you. Would you like the soap?”
“Thank you, Miss Swan.” He took it from her. “You were going to tell me about the set?”
“Oh, yes, I think you’ll approve the sketches, though you might want some minor changes.” She shifted, sighing a little as her legs brushed against his. “I told Bloomfield I wanted something a little fanciful, medieval, but not too cluttered.”
“No suits of armor?”
“No, just atmosphere. Something moody, like . . .” She broke off when he took her foot in his hand and began to soap it.
“Yes?” he prompted.
“A tone,” she said as gentle pulses of pleasure ran up her leg. “Muted colors. The sort you have in your parlor.”
Pierce began to massage her calf. “Only one set?”
Ryan trembled in the steamy water as he slid soapy fingers up her leg. “Yes, I thought—mmm—I thought the basic mood . . .” He moved his hands slowly up and down her legs as he watched her face.
“What mood?” He lifted a hand to soap her breast in circles while using his other to massage the top of her thigh.
“Sex,” Ryan breathed. “You’re very sexy onstage.”
“Am I?” Through drugging ripples of sensation, she heard the amusement in the question.
“Yes, dramatic and rather coolly sexy. When I watch you perform . . .” She trailed off, struggling for breath. The heady scent of the bath salts rose around her. She felt the water lap under her breasts, just below Pierce’s clever hand. “Your hands,” she managed, steeped in hot, tortured pleasure.
“What about them?” he asked as he slipped a finger inside her.
“Magic.” The word trembled out. “Pierce, I can’t talk when you’re doing things to me.”
“Shall I stop?” She was no longer looking at him. Her eyes were closed, but he watched her face, using fingertips only to arouse her.
“No.” Ryan found his hand under the water and pressed it against herself.
“You’re so beautiful, Ryan.” The water swayed as he moved to nibble at her breast, then at her mouth. “So soft. I could see you when I was alone in the middle of the night. I could imagine touching you like this. I couldn’t stay away.”
“Don’t.” Her hands were in his hair, pulling his mouth more firmly to hers. “Don’t stay away. I’ve waited so long already.”
“Five days,” he murmured as he urged her legs apart.
“All my life.”
At her words something coursed through him which passion wouldn’t permit him to explore. He had to have her, that was all.
“Pierce,” Ryan murmured hazily. “We’re going to sink.”
“Hold your breath,” he suggested and took her.
* * *
“I’m sure my father will want to see you,” Ryan told Pierce the next morning as he pulled into her space in the parking complex of Swan Productions. “And I imagine you’d like to see Coogar.”
“Since I’m here,” Pierce agreed and shut off the ignition. “But I came to see you.”
With a smile Ryan leaned over and kissed him. “I’m so glad you did. Can you stay over the weekend, or do you have to get back?”
He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “We’ll see.”
She slid from the car. She could hope for no better answer.
“Of course, the first full meeting isn’t scheduled until next week, but I imagine they’ll accommodate you.” They walked into the building. “I can make the calls from my office.”
Ryan led him down the corridors briskly, nodding or answering now and again when someone greeted her. She was all business, he noted, the moment she stepped through the front doors.
“I don’t know where Bloomfield is today,” she continued as she pushed the button in the elevator for her floor. “But if he’s unavailable, I can get the sketches and go over them with you myself.” They stepped inside as she began to outline her day’s schedule, balancing and altering to allow for Pierce’s presence. “You and I might go over the timing, too,” she continued. “We have fifty-two minutes to fill. And . . . ”
“Will you have dinner with me tonight, Miss Swan?”
Ryan broke off what she was saying and found him smiling at her. The look in his eyes made it difficult for her to recall her plans for the day. She could only remember what had passed in the night. “I think I might fit that into my schedule, Mr. Atkins,” she murmured as the elevator doors opened.
“You’ll check your calendar?” he asked and kissed her hand.
“Yes.” Ryan had to stop the doors from closing again. “And don’t look at me like that today,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll never be able to function.”
“Is that so?” Pierce let her pull him into the corridor. “I might consider it suitable revenge for all the times you’ve made it impossible for me to do my work.”
Unnerved, Ryan led him into her office. “If we’re going to manage to pull off this show . . .” she began.
“Oh, I have complete faith in the very organized, very dependable Miss Swan,” Pierce said easily. He took a chair and waited for her to sit behind her desk.
“You’re going to be difficult to work with, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Most likely.”
Wrinkling her nose at him, Ryan picked up the phone and pushed a series of buttons. “Ryan Swan,” she announced, deliberately keeping her eyes away from Pierce.
“Is he free?”
&nbs
p; “Please hold, Miss Swan.”
In a moment she heard her father’s voice answer impatiently. “Make it fast, I’m busy.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said automatically. “I have Pierce Atkins in my office. I thought you might like to see him.”
“What’s he doing here?” Swan demanded, then continued before Ryan could answer. “Bring him up.” He hung up without waiting for her agreement.
“He’d like to see you now,” Ryan said as she replaced the receiver.
Pierce nodded, rising as she did. The brevity of the phone conversation had told him a great deal. Minutes later, after entering Swan’s office, he learned a great deal more.
“Mr. Atkins” Swan rose to come around his massive desk with his hand extended. “What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect to meet you personally until next week.”
“Mr. Swan.” Pierce accepted the offered hand and noted Swan had no greeting for his daughter.
“Please sit down,” he suggested with a wide sweep of his hand. “What can I get for you? Coffee?”
“No, nothing.”
“Swan Productions is very pleased to have your talents, Mr. Atkins.” Swan settled behind his desk again. “We’re going to put a lot of energy into this special. Promotion and press have already been set into motion.”
“So I understand. Ryan keeps me informed.”
“Of course.” Swan sent her a quick nod. “We’ll shoot in studio twenty-five. Ryan can arrange for you to see it today if you’d like. And anything else you’d like to see while you’re here.” He sent her another look.
“Yes, of course,” she answered. “I thought Mr. Atkins might like to see Coogar and Bloomfield if they’re available.”
“Set it up,” he ordered, dismissing her. “Now, Mr. Atkins, I have a letter from your representative. There are a few points we might go over before you meet the more artistic members of the company.”
Pierce waited until Ryan had shut the door behind her. “I intend to work with Ryan, Mr. Swan. I contracted with you with that stipulation.”
“Naturally,” Swan answered, thrown off balance. As a rule talent was flattered to receive his personal attention. “I can assure you she’s been hard at work on your behalf.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
Swan met the measuring gray eyes levelly. “Ryan is producing your special at your request.”
“Your daughter is a very interesting woman, Mr. Swan.” Pierce waited a moment, watching Swan’s eyes narrow. “On a professional level,” he continued smoothly. “I have complete faith in her abilities. She’s sharp and observant and very serious about her business.”
“I’m delighted you’re satisfied with her,” Swan replied, not certain what lay beyond Pierce’s words.
“It would be a remarkably stupid man who wasn’t satisfied with her,” Pierce countered, then continued before Swan could react. “Don’t you find talent and professionalism pleasing, Mr. Swan?”
Swan studied Pierce a moment, then leaned back in his chair. “I wouldn’t be the head of Swan Productions if I didn’t,” he said wryly.
“Then we understand each other,” Pierce said mildly. “Just what are the points you would like to clear up?”
***
It was five-fifteen before Ryan was able to wind up the meeting with Bloomfield and Pierce. She’d been on the run all day, arranging spur-of-the-moment conferences and covering her scheduled work. There had been no moment to spare for a tête-à-tête with Pierce. Now, as they walked down the corridor together from Bloomfield’s office, she let out a long breath.
“Well, that seems to be about it. Nothing like the unexpected appearance of a magician to throw everybody into a dither. As seasoned as Bloomfield is, I think he was just waiting for you to pull a rabbit out of your hat.”
“I didn’t have a hat,” Pierce pointed out.
“Would that stop you?” Ryan laughed and checked her watch. “I’ll have to stop by my office and clear up a couple of things, touch base with my father and let him know the talent was properly fussed over, then . . .”
“No.”
“No?” Ryan looked up in surprise. “Is there something else you wanted to see? Was there something wrong with the sketches?”
“No,” Pierce said again, “You’re not going back to your office to clear up a couple of things or to touch base with your father.”
Ryan laughed again and continued to walk. “It won’t take long, twenty minutes.”
“You agreed to have dinner with me, Miss Swan,” he reminded her.
“As soon as I clear my desk.”
“You can clear your desk Monday morning. Is there something urgent?”
“Well, no, but . . .” She trailed off when she felt something on her wrist, then stared down at the handcuff. “Pierce, what are you doing?” Ryan tugged her arm but found it firmly chained to his.
“Taking you to dinner.”
“Pierce, take this thing off,” she ordered with amused exasperation. “It’s ridiculous.”
“Later,” he promised before he pulled her to the elevator. He waited calmly for it to reach their floor as two secretaries eyed him, the cuffs and Ryan.
“Pierce,” she said in undertones. “Take these off right now. They’re staring at us.”
“Who?”
“Pierce, I mean it!” She let out a frustrated moan as the doors opened and revealed several other members of Swan Productions’ staff. Pierce stepped inside the car, leaving her no choice but to follow. “You’re going to pay for this,” she muttered, trying to ignore speculative stares.
“Tell me, Miss Swan,” Pierce said in a friendly, carrying voice, “is it always so difficult to persuade you to keep a dinner engagement?”
After an unintelligible mutter, Ryan stared straight ahead.
Still handcuffed to Pierce, Ryan walked across the parking lot. “All right, joke’s over,” she insisted. “Take these off. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life! Do you have any idea how—”
But her heated lecture was cut off by his mouth. “I’ve wanted to do that all day,” Pierce told her, then kissed her again before she could retort.
Ryan tried her best to hang on to her annoyance. His mouth was so soft. His hand, as it pressed into the small of her back, was so gentle. She drew closer to him, but when she started to lift her arms around his neck, the handcuff prevented her. “No,” she said firmly, remembering. “You’re not going to sneak out of this one.” Ryan pulled away, ready to rage at him. He smiled at her. “Damn you, Pierce,” she said on a sigh. “Kiss me again.”
He kissed her softly. “You’re very exciting when you’re angry, Miss Swan,” he whispered.
“I was angry,” she muttered, kissing him back. “I am angry.”
“And exciting.” He drew her over to the car.
“Well?” Holding their joined wrists aloft, she sent him an inquiring glance. Pierce opened the car door and gestured her inside. “Pierce!” Exasperated, Ryan jiggled her arm. “Take these off. You can’t drive this way.”
“Of course I can. You’ll have to climb over,” he instructed, nudging her into the car.
Ryan sat in the driver’s seat a moment and glared at him. “This is absurd.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “And I’m enjoying it. Move over.”
Ryan considered refusing but decided he would simply lift her into the passenger seat bodily. With little trouble and less grace, she managed it. Pierce gave her another smile as he switched on the ignition.
“Put your hand on the gearshift and we’ll do very well.”
Ryan obeyed. His palm rested on the back of her hand as he put the car in reverse. “Just how long are you going to leave these on?”
“Interesting question. I haven’t decided.” He pulled out of the parking lot and headed north.
Ryan shook her head, then laughed in spite of herself. “If
