John didn’t choose her meal for her or insist she try something because “I know you’ll like it”, he didn’t decide on the wine without consulting her and she loved it. Her previous husbands had all done that, the first because she was young and needed to learn, the second because he was the possessive type and the third because he was an insecure controlling fuckwit.
Enough. All gone now two friends and a man she tried to ignore the existence of.
The meal came and they chatted their way through the first course getting to know each other a bit more but under all the pleasant conversation ran an undercurrent like the thrum of electricity, ready to snap to life when something connected with something else. Her pussy his cock, please God.
The main course arrived. John asked her if she preferred red wine but she said no and he topped up her wineglass with the white, which was perfect for a late spring evening. So were the conversation and the venue. For a fashionable restaurant Je Suis was a haven of quiet content, at least tonight. The food was served on fine white china the lighting was discreet but not too low and classical music played quietly in the background. She savored a mouthful of tender lamb before she spoke, taking her time.
“The in crowd, the busy people will move on soon. This place will be too boring for them.”
He smiled and twirled his glass to make the wine surge and eddy inside. “But the management here is very clever because some of us will remember and return. I certainly will. And I can’t wait for the others to move on. Je Suis will have enough regular customers to survive. Those of us who don’t crave the limelight.” He looked up. “You don’t. Did you ever?”
She shook her head. “It was part of the job that’s all. I took my God-given looks and did something with them. I was someone else—Sunset, Adelaide, but not Edie. She stayed inside watching and noting. That was why I found it so easy to write everything down when it came to write my autobiography. The ghostwriter said I was articulate but I don’t kid myself. She made my dry memories into readable exciting prose.” She laughed. “I gave her a chunk of royalties. Her agent never even negotiated them for her.”
“So you’re generous too.”
“I give credit where it’s due. I always have. It makes for good karma.”
He watched her for several seconds before he turned his attention back to his plate. That fraught few moments said nothing about their conversation everything about his intentions after they’d eaten. But she knew she’d have to agree. He wouldn’t take unless she gave first. “Karma or not you have relatively few enemies for someone who is spectacularly beautiful and worked for years in one of the most cut-throat industries in the world.” He glanced up. “Another being medicine.”
That broke the tension but only temporarily. When he looked at her again she was waiting. How could anyone become addicted to a gaze? But she feared she was.
He leaned back in his chair and picked up his glass. She followed suit and lifted hers, toasting him before she drank. “Usually when I make my mind up I follow through no matter what. I did research on cosmetic surgery, decided what I wanted done and I had my timetable worked out. How can you be so sure I won’t have it done? I have my first TV interview at the end of next month. They want names and dates and as far as I’m concerned, I’m giving them. But I wanted myself invulnerable. I wanted perfection. It’s my first line of defense and you’re asking me to give it up.”
He regarded her steadily his eyes grave. She knew he was listening, really listening to what she said. “So the crap will hit the fan at that interview? Why would you do that?”
“Because my third and last husband was a shit of the stinkiest most repulsive kind. He’s gorgeous, good in bed, wealthy and influential. Nothing can touch him.”
“So what is he? A child molester, a murderer?”
She shook her head. “Nothing like that. Nothing illegal, just immoral. He’s a user, a charmer, a seducer. He does it in his job and he does it in his private life too. I’ve seen him take young enthusiastic trainees and wring them dry. He’ll work them until he has no more use for them then he’ll discard them. While we were married, he took mistresses serially. After the first three I threatened to throw him out but he didn’t believe me. I refused to have sex with him but he seduced me.” She gave a wry grin. “He’s very good. But I learned to resist him in time.”
He finished his wine. “So he used you too?”
“We used each other.” Her lips thinned. “Yes he did. He tried to push my children away too, so I had nobody else but him. But my first husband, my kids’ father, didn’t allow it. That started the first rift when Zach used to visit to see the kids but after we divorced we’d agreed to make sure the children came first. We stayed friends.”
He nodded and the tense lines around his mouth relaxed. “So you get on with your other husbands.”
She knew what he was thinking. That she was the user not Peter. “You know who they were, you said you’d looked me up.”
“I know who they are but not what they are. Tell me.”
Why did it seem natural to talk about her previous husbands with a man who might become her next lover? It didn’t seem right but it worked for her. “My first husband was Zach Atoya, the head of his own fashion house. He was twice my age when we married but since I was eighteen that wasn’t as bad as it sounded. He was my mentor and my friend. I had the twins at twenty and it could have been a disaster for my career but he supported me even designed a maternity line.” She bit her lip forcing back her smile. “We divorced because we grew out of each other, wanted different things but we parted friends. My second husband was Bobby Demaris the lawyer. He’s still my lawyer, which should tell you something. He was a controlling man, alpha to the max and he wanted all of me. I couldn’t give it so he found someone who could. But I understood why he wanted what he did. He found himself a wife who suited him better in the bedroom. And yes I’m friends with her as well as him.”
“So you don’t want all women to forge their own careers and make their own lives?”
She laughed. “No why should I?”
He smiled back and his face lost the sternness she realized meant he was concentrating. Not that he couldn’t concentrate when he was smiling. “I prefer a woman who knows her own mind, who has an opinion. My male ego isn’t insulted when a woman disagrees with me, just when she tries to fuck with me by playing idiot games or railroad me into something I don’t want to do. And I’ve been with women who have done both.” He met her eyes. “Shall I tell you what I want to do with you? To you? Do you want to know what I want you to do to me?”
She caught her breath. She hadn’t expected that, not here. “People will hear you.”
“No they won’t. The people at the next table are too busy trying to get other people to look at them to bother about eavesdropping and nobody else is close enough.” He leaned forward pushing his plate aside. “I promise.”
The waiter arrived and took away their plates, leaving them with a dessert menu. He didn’t look at it. “Maybe you’d like dessert at my place. Or yours. Wherever you’re most comfortable. I have some interesting playthings.” He crooked a dark brow and gave her a quizzical smile.
“Toys?” She liked toys.
“Oh yes. One or two.”
“You’re into…” A pang of disappointment went through her. She didn’t want him to be into BDSM because she wasn’t. She’d tried it from both sides and it only made her laugh at herself.
“No I’m not. I’m into mutual play and exploration. I’m into breaking boundaries whether you know they’re there or not. I’m into letting go and doing what feels right whatever anyone else thinks about it. Only we matter in this, Edie. Nobody else.”
Intriguing and fascinating. But he wasn’t done.
“I want to fuck you, sure I do. But I want to do it in different ways. Then I want to watch while you fuck me and while you masturbate. That’s one of the most beautiful sights in the world, watching a woman giving herself
pleasure. I want to watch you explore yourself. I want to watch you explore me. And I’ll do whatever you want me to as long as it feels good.”
She couldn’t breathe. He’d said it with such intensity she knew she’d met her match, the man she wanted. How this could have happened and how it happened now she was still struggling with.
He watched her and she knew he could see everything she was thinking. She just knew it. It didn’t make her feel embarrassed or uncomfortable. It made her feel good. Just as he’d said.
“I want to remind you why your lips and your breasts shouldn’t be subjected to the knife and I want to know what other work you wanted doing so I can persuade you against it. All I ask is honesty. So one question remains. Your place or mine?”
Outside the day was still bright but a slight freshness invaded the air, one that hadn’t been there before. Cameras flashed and popped, more of them than before. Instinctively she moved closer to John and he curved his arm around her waist also, it seemed, instinctively. But she didn’t shrink close to him. She knew better than that. She drew up to her full height five foot ten plus the three-inch heels she had on and pasted on the Sunset smile. She’d worn her hair loose tonight for him but now she could shake it back and remind them why she’d gotten that nickname within six months of her first picture appearing in the teen magazine that had given her the first break of her career.
More cameras flashed and she moved toward the car drawn up by the curb. She had no idea if it was theirs or not. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten into the wrong limo and got out a block later. Premieres and society events were packed with such eventualities. All for the sake of appearances.
But it seemed that this was his car because he took the keys from the boy holding them out to him and opened the door on the passenger side.
“Are you a couple, Sunset? How long have you and Dr. Sung been seeing each other?”
John saw her into the car and closed the door but she opened the window and listened to his reply. At first, she thought he wouldn’t say anything but then he paused and tossed the car keys in his hand as if weighing his answer. He walked around to the driver’s side and paused. “Yes we’re a couple. For now.”
He got into the car, started it up and drove away.
Chapter Five
“What made you say that?”
He glanced at her and grinned. He drove like he conducted his life, competently and without fuss. “Either because I want us to be or because we are. They’ll say it anyway. Clooney must have gone out the back way because the paparazzi out there are slavering for a story so we’ve given them one. It’ll be all over the blogs by now, the gossip mags in the morning but what do we fucking care?”
She grimaced. “I know a few people who might.”
“My place then,” he said, correctly interpreting her distaste.
She loved Bobby dearly but she wouldn’t bet against there being a phone call or an email from him when she got home. Still protective, especially since he’d handled her divorce from Peter and knew how hard that had hit her. Reminded of him, she dug inside her purse and found her phone. It had begun to vibrate when she switched it off. “Definitely your place.”
He lived in the Hills, but not the flashier part. He drove into a gated community and slowed down outside a two-story villa. She liked the understated design the clean shapes of the plastered walls and the way the large windows gleamed in the light of the setting sun. Edie found herself hoping this was his place.
It was. A garage door slid up and he parked the Mercedes inside before exiting the car and coming around to her side to open the door for her. She had her hand on the door handle but she liked that little touch. It made her feel cherished. Little courtesies that meant so much and John did them when nobody was around as well as when people were looking. Unusual for this town.
However when she got out of the car he didn’t step back. Instead, he placed his hands on her waist and drew her close. She lifted her head for his kiss and when their lips met she was reminded of the sensation she’d felt when he’d kissed her before. Togetherness.
Their mouths moved in harmony and anticipation built low in her stomach fizzing up to tighten her throat and send tingles through her limbs. Her nipples tightened against his chest and although he probably couldn’t feel them underneath his suit jacket and shirt, he hummed into her mouth and gave a low growl of approval.
He withdrew slowly with a series of nips and licks before he leaned back and gazed at her. “I’ve been torturing myself all day wondering if you really tasted that good. It’s better than I remember.”
She smiled up at him pleasantly hazy. “You have a gift for kissing.”
“It’s the first time anyone’s told me that. Come inside and let’s see if there’s anything else I’m good at.”
He led her into a spacious living room and past the comfortable dark-hued sofa set to a staircase at the far end. She looked up the steps. “Clear glass. Just as well I’m not afraid of heights.”
“I knew that. I saw the picture of you in Vogue where you posed at the top of the Empire State Building. You lay on the rails.”
“There wasn’t much danger. They tethered me down and then airbrushed the straps out. But it really was the top of the Empire State and I was really, really cold. They brushed out the goose bumps too.” She shivered and curled her arms around her body, clasping them hard as if she were still up there. “That was a looong shoot. At the time I was so cold I thought I was going to die. I spent the next four hours in a hot bath.”
He frowned. “I don’t like to think about you in that position. I know modeling isn’t glamorous a lot of the time but that verges on fucking torture.” He reached out and drew her close just holding her.
“We earn too much for people to feel sorry for us. And there are glamorous times along with the hard work and the discomfort. I’m still here aren’t I?” Unfolding her arms, she enjoyed his warmth. Although he didn’t keep his air conditioning on freeze like a lot of LA residents, she felt the long-ago chill when she’d been seriously worried she’d developed hypothermia. The hours on top of the Empire State in March had left her cold right through her model-skinny body, literally chilled to the bone. It had been a long time since she’d thought about that shoot and she usually laughed the discomfort off since it had resulted in one of the iconic photographs of her career. John had seen straight through to the truth.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t realize I’d be bringing such traumatic memories back to you. Do you want a drink?”
“No I’m fine.” She lifted her chin. “I’m here with you and we’re fine.”
“So we are.” He dropped a kiss on her nose and drew back but reached for her hand. “Am I rushing you? Do you want to sit and talk?”
“No. I want to get naked.”
He pulled her toward the stairs laughing, the sadness dispelled. In the process of climbing the stairs, he paused and looked back at her. “But you remember our bet right? You’ll give me a chance to persuade you not to have the surgery.”
She owed him the truth. “I don’t know if I can promise that. Dr. Roubiere suggested an extensive program but I won’t have it all done at once.”
He bared his teeth. “Fucking bastard,” he said but without heat. “The trouble is he’s good at what he does. What he does he’ll do well. You can still say no.” He played with the fingers of her hand.
“When you’re paying?” She gave him a roguish smile. “Now why would I do that?”
His laughter sounded around the quiet room. “I’m sure we can think of something else to do with the money. Barbados maybe?”
Her brow arched. “Hey aren’t we getting a bit ahead of ourselves here?”
He turned to climb the stairs. “I don’t think so.”
She followed him, taking her time to enjoy the way the hidden lights gleamed through the glass steps, hitting highlights that drew rainbows. The stair rail next to the wall was c
ool to the touch and on the other side the stairs were open hanging over the floor below as if by magic. Hers were railed in. She liked the open format.
He waited for her at the top of the stairs. He took her hand and kissed it old-style but the gesture wasn’t cheesy, it was heartfelt. She loved it.
His bedroom contained a huge platform bed and a row of closets, all of them mirror fronted. She walked across the deeply carpeted floor to strike a pose, arm above her head, hip thrust forward, an exaggerated sultriness making the gesture comic rather than sexy. At least she thought so until she saw his face as he walked up behind her. She saw intensity behind the black-framed spectacles, burning heat that could keep her warm for a long time. His lips were slightly parted, giving her a glimpse of gleaming teeth. A predator heading for the kill.
She shivered when he put his hands on her shoulders. He didn’t comment on it though he must have felt it. “What other work are you considering?”
“The works, everything, the full Monty,” she said wildly. Really, she didn’t give a flying fuck. He cared more than she did right now. If he’d known he only had to ask, he’d have the advantage. She’d make him work for it.
She’d been born with the genes that made her body. Apart from taking care of it, she had just been lucky. She’d learned how to make the best of what she had, how to stand, how to pose. It came naturally to her even now, years after she’d joyfully tossed her modeling career in the crapper. “This is my raw material.” She passed her hands down her body smoothing it over her hips and thighs, enjoying the feel of expensive silk. “It was my job, my living and if it doesn’t sound too pretentious, my way of expressing myself.”
“Not pretentious at all.” He moved his hand so he could kiss the skin left bare by her dress. “Well maybe a little bit.”
She couldn’t believe she hadn’t had sex with this man many times, because she felt so natural with him but at the same time a frisson of anticipation ran up and down her spine making her want to squirm under his hands and beg him to touch every inch of her.
Beauty of Sunset Page 4
