She realized, sitting beside Duncan, thigh to thigh, almost shoulder to shoulder, that any reasonable former virgin would not, should not, be feeling so completely comfortable outside of bed and still naked with her first lover.
But Harley had never felt so comfortable in her life. Did the man have magical powers, or had five days wrought so strong a connection?
She clasped Duncan's hand under the hot water and rested it on her thigh as she leaned against him. "Is it always this good?"
His silence made her look up. She found herself staring into eyes that drew her into the vortex of the galaxy. "No," he said softly. "Never."
Her chest ached. "But I'm so new at this."
"That," he said in a low voice, "has nothing to do with it."
Staring up into those fathomless black eyes, she believed him, because it was her truth too. Duncan was an incredibly skilled lover, but the power of their lovemaking had come from the emotion within it and behind it and between them. She didn't want to ask about that emotion, or even explore it. It was too new and she was a little too frightened of what she might find within this fullness in her heart.
The power of the phrase "one day at a time" finally became clear to her. She would not go borrowing trouble, let alone insight, just yet. There was now, this moment in time, with this man who was teaching her to see aspects of herself she hadn't even known existed. And there was this feeling surging within her, akin to power, that gave her boldness and freedom in this moment, and she liked that very much.
Her free hand slid between his thighs and brought him quickly to life.
"Harley!"
She smiled as she shifted and settled herself between his knees, standing waist high in the water, still stroking him, her other hand still locked in his. "As you pointed out … oh … six or seven hours ago, there are times when condoms are not necessary."
"What you do to me," he groaned. The fingers of his free hand slid into her, his thumb remaining behind to stroke and push and tease until their moans filled the marble room. Water splashed out of the tub in waves as they thrashed together, their voices rising in desperation until finally, with what little strength remained to them, all they could do was hold each other up to keep from drowning.
Finally they left the now much shallower tub, stepping through puddles on the marble floor to towels and robes.
Harley's stomach growled audibly and at length, which made Duncan laugh.
"As if you have the right!" she gasped in outrage, throwing a towel at him, which he ducked. "You promised me dinner last night and completely reneged."
"You feasted on other delicacies," he smirked, which brought one of her first blushes of the morning.
"You owe me dinner," she stated.
"I'll make up for it tonight, I promise."
Her body warmed with relief. She turned to studiously hang up some damp towels so he wouldn't see it in her eyes: this was more for him too, not just one night of pleasure, and now she knew it for sure. "You can start by feeding me this morning," she said lightly.
"You may have anything and everything that's in the fridge," he vowed. "What's mine is yours."
Harley took him at his word. Dressed in one of his blue T-shirts that only reached her mid-thigh, she pulled a large pineapple, two melons, and a basket of strawberries from the well-stocked refrigerator, and followed that up with butter, a loaf of bread, and the discovery of a wide variety of muffins. "What are you having?" she asked as she popped two slices of bread into the toaster.
"Leftovers?"
She grinned at his hopeful tone. "I'll save you a scrap or two."
It was the loveliest breakfast Harley had ever had, not because of the food, which was great, but because of Duncan who kept her feeling completely at ease on this morning after by telling her silly stories of some of his failed amorous escapades in foreign climes.
By the end of breakfast, her foot was sliding up and down his leg. His terry cloth robe was no impediment at all.
"Stop that!" he primly commanded.
"Why?" she asked with a grin. "You liked it last night."
He managed to maintain his prim expression. "That was last night and this is this morning."
"So?"
"So, I have to go to work and you have to go touristing and making music."
"I don't mind waiting a day," she said with her newly minted lecherous smile.
He blinked and hurriedly scooted off his kitchen stool. "Well, I do. I'm working on two very important cases right now, if you'll recall, and I really should get at them."
"But this is Saturday. The weekend."
"I don't think Boyd or Giscard's men care."
"Oh, you're no fun at all," Harley pouted.
She suddenly found herself enveloped in Duncan's arms, his mouth tender and seductive against hers. "Aren't I?" he murmured.
"Well," she said dazedly, "I meant in that particular moment."
Chuckling, he pulled away from her. "I am going to get dressed, I am going to go to work, and then I am going to cook you dinner. You can do anything your heart desires, as long as it doesn't involve other men."
Harley felt her eyebrows arch up at that. "Are you saying…" It was hard to get the blood back into her face and to get her vocal cords to resonate properly. "Are you saying that you want me under exclusive contract?"
The expression in his black eyes stole all of her breath away. "That's exactly what I'm saying."
"Oh." There were no words for the joy surging through her.
He turned away suddenly and started putting the leftover muffins away. "At least until you get a better offer."
That threw her. They had just become lovers and he was already talking about her moving on to someone else? "I don't see how that's possible," she said softly.
He froze for just a moment, and then continued wrapping up the muffins. "It's early days yet," he said lightly. He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Aren't you supposed to be getting dressed?"
There were currents and depths of emotion and thought swirling through this kitchen that Harley couldn't grasp, couldn't understand. It was the first time she had ever hated Boyd, because for the last nine years he had denied her the life experience she desperately needed now to understand what was really going on. She was afraid to say anything, for fear it would be the wrong thing, and she didn't even know what that wrong thing was.
"My red dress is going to be a dead giveaway when I walk out of here, you know," she said at last.
He turned, his eyes searching her, seeking something she didn't understand. "Do you mind?"
"No. I pretty much feel like shouting it from the rooftops. Do you mind?"
The force of his dark gaze practically lifted her off her feet. "Never," he said.
Oh God, how could anyone be this happy and live? "Even though this is just another reason for your father to be furious with you?"
Duncan smiled. "Dad would shrivel up and die if he couldn't be outraged by at least two things I do a day. Now, remove temptation from this kitchen and go get dressed."
"You think I'm tempting?"
"Very."
Harley shook her head at the wonder of it all. "Wow." She dressed quickly and alone, which was a disappointment. She wanted to watch Duncan pull on socks and briefs, jeans and a shirt. She wanted to watch him brush his now dry hair see if he ever admired himself in the mirror. But she dressed alone and walked back into the living room just as he walked out of the kitchen.
"Amazing," he said, looking her up and down with a warmth that did lovely things to her own temperature.
"What?" she asked, a little breathlessly.
"That dress has lost none of its impact."
That made her grin. "Oh?" she said innocently, turning in a circle before him. "You like it?"
His arms swept around her. "I like who's just barely in it more." He kissed her, long and slow and soft until her knees were no use at all.
"I like that," she said with a happy sigh when sh
e finally rested her cheek against his chest and heard the rapid thumping of his heart.
His fingers sifted through her hair. "I told you we were kindred spirits."
"Yes, you did. Are you sure you have to work today?"
"Positive."
"For a man who's so sure of himself, you're holding me awfully tight."
His low chuckle rumbled against her ear. "Just because I'm certain doesn't mean it isn't hard letting you go."
"You really say the most wonderful things."
"And all of them true," he said, a touch of wonder in his voice.
She looked up at him. Oh, how many places could he touch her heart? "You've never lied to me, have you? Even when it would have been so much more convenient. I've never met anyone so honest before."
The corners of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. "That's because you've only had a small pool to fish from. There's greater variety in the big pond of life."
She grimaced. "Ye gods, he's getting philosophical. I'd better leave."
"Absolutely," he agreed, still holding her tight.
"I have music to make."
"Yes," he said, his warm mouth pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
"You have work to do."
"Lots," he agreed, kissing her ear.
The ache began to grow inside her once again. "Duncan?"
"Hmm?" He was nuzzling her neck.
"Duncan, I'm going to have to throw you to the floor and ravish you if you keep this up."
"You always say the nicest things."
That made her laugh and freed her neck from his erotic assault. She grinned up at laughing black eyes. "Hold that thought until dinner. After dinner. I'd actually like to get a meal this time before dessert."
"I'll try to curb my … appetite."
A blush began creeping into her cheeks. "You do that," she said hastily as she pulled herself from his arms and began to walk toward the front door. That Front Door where he'd stood last night, broad naked chest and muscular arms meeting her shocked gaze and roasting every doubt and second thought and worry she'd had that he didn't want her.
And this was the result: she was standing in front of That Front Door remembering the feel of his body against hers as she had pressed him into the wall and she really needed to do that again. Right now.
"Duncan," she said.
He groaned from behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back against him. "One of us has got to exercise some self-control."
"Why?"
There was silence. "Give me a moment, I'm thinking." That made her laugh again. She turned in his arms and kissed the tip of his nose. "I'll see you at six tonight."
"Not seven?"
"I didn't make it to seven last night, what makes you think I can make it to seven tonight?"
"Six, then," he said smiling down at her, his eyes full of happiness.
Oh, he was trouble, all right. She reluctantly pulled herself from his arms and started once again for That Front Door.
"Harley."
She turned with renewed hope. "Yes?" she said eagerly.
"Now that both Giscard's men and Boyd know where you're staying, you'd better change hotels again this morning."
"Oh," Harley said, hiding her disappointment. Business was no fun on a Saturday morning after. "Right. Sure."
"Don't tell anyone but me where you're staying. Emma's got your cell phone number if she needs to get ahold of you."
"Right. Well, see you at six." Harley walked out of the apartment to the small hall in front of the elevator and the Colangco guard standing watch. A different one from last night. But that didn't matter. She was leaving his boss's penthouse apartment just before nine o'clock in the morning. The inference was clear.
She had never felt more self-conscious in her life.
"Hi, John," Duncan said from behind her. "This is Miss Miller … I mean Smith … I mean Hitchcock…"
"Miller is just fine," Harley said hurriedly, her blush crimson now.
"Whatever she's calling herself nowadays," Duncan said, laughter in his voice, "she's got carte blanche, John."
"Yes, sir," John replied as the elevator doors opened.
Harley stepped into the elevator, not daring to look at John or at Duncan. She stabbed the Lobby button and prayed for the doors to close. They didn't.
"This isn't what you think, John," Duncan gravely continued.
"No, sir, of course not," John replied with equal gravity.
Harley raised her gaze from the toes of her red cowboy boots to glare at Duncan. He was glowing with suppressed laughter. "We play checkers tonight," she informed him just before the elevator doors closed.
Her blush had just barely died away by the time her cab dropped her off in front of her hotel. She walked through the revolving glass door into the cherry wood Millenium lobby and promptly felt masculine hands grab her. She was hustled over to a seating area to the right of the entrance before she could even catch her breath.
She looked up. Way up.
"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Hitchcock," said Desmond.
"Won't you sit down?" Louis asked, his bruised jaw looking lurid under the low-key lighting.
"No thanks," Harley said through a dry throat. "How are you guys doing?"
"Monsieur Lang was not in the Hamptons," Desmond sternly informed her.
"No?" Harley said in a small voice.
"No."
"Mademoiselle, how could you use us so?" Louis demanded.
"What did we ever do to you?" said Desmond, much aggrieved.
Harley was awash in guilt. "I'm sorry guys, really I am. I don't know what came over me."
"It must be l'instinct d'amour," Louis said with a sigh.
"We French, we understand such things," Desmond said. "But why must it appear maintenant when our employer is so insistent upon the return of what rightfully belongs to him?"
"Hey, I'm all for getting Mr. Giscard's diamonds back to him," Harley said. "Really I am."
"Then," said Louis, "having recently spent so much time in Monsieur Lang's company, perhaps you would be so good as to tell us now where to find the diamonds."
"Duncan's working on it, guys. Honest."
"If Monsieur Lang is truly investigating the matter, why has he not produced what we seek?" Desmond demanded.
"Well, he's working on this other case too, and these things take time."
"Monsieur Giscard informed us just an hour ago that we do not have le temps," Desmond informed her.
"Our employer lacks patience," Louis explained.
"In abundance," Desmond added.
"Retaliatory measures will have to be taken if the diamonds are not returned to us by tomorrow morning, mademoiselle," Louis said.
"Be so good as to tell Monsieur Lang this," Desmond said.
"I'll tell him," Harley said, her heart bumping in her chest.
"Bon," said Louis.
"Adieu," said Desmond.
And they were gone.
They really knew how to remove the stars from a girl's eyes. Harley headed for the elevator. She'd better pass on their message to Duncan.
She walked into her room and saw her Stratocaster lying on the bed where she had left it. Her fingers brushed across the gleaming black surface. Ah, sweet sanity.
She called Duncan's office and got Emma. "Do all of you work on Saturdays?" she asked.
"Only when the company's reputation is on the line," Emma replied. "Those hellacious diamonds seem to have disappeared into thin air."
"Speaking of which…" Harley relayed the French threat. "Tell Duncan not to worry. I'll find a new hotel fast. Are we still on for lunch?"
"You bet. You can meet me here."
Harley hung up and looked around her hotel room. Lovely as it was, Duncan was right. It was time and past time to move.
But Duncan's scent was still on her skin, the taste of him was still on her mouth. She'd never get anything accomplished today like this. Besides, her brunette wash was beginning
to fade and disguise was still important. Yes, Colby Lang and Boyd Monroe had given a press conference the other day to announce that Jane Miller was safe and sound and simply on a short holiday to help recover from the rigors of her world tour, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be mobbed if people recognized her.
So she showered and put a second brunette rinse in her hair, then dressed in jeans and sneakers and a flaming red knit top. The way she was feeling, she'd be wearing red every day for the rest of her life. She glanced at her itinerary notebook and smiled. It didn't matter anymore. Her priorities had changed. She had changed.
It took only half an hour to check out of the Millenium and into the Loews New York on Lexington Avenue
.
She sat down on her new bed with her Stratocaster and went back to work on the songs she had started yesterday. The problem was, they were as erotic as she'd reported to Duncan and that focused her thoughts on their gorgeous muse.
She hugged the Stratocaster and finally let herself take stock of how new she felt and different and lighter. She couldn't remember ever being so aware of every inch of her body from her little toes all the way up to the ends of her darker brown hair.
All those romance writers had gotten it right after all. Sexual experience did make you look different, because it was making her feel different about her body and her heart and herself and that had to be reflected outward.
She was still amazed that Duncan had wanted her last night and this morning with a hunger and a passion that had matched her own. She was not voluptuous. She was not beautiful. She had caused him untold amounts of trouble.
And she could still hear his moans of pleasure and need as she had touched him, caressed him, licked him…
Heat was burning her cheeks and other parts of her anatomy once again. It was no good wanting what she could not have, and she could not have Duncan until six o'clock tonight. Until then, she'd better put the heat into her music.
Still, just after twelve that afternoon, she looked hopefully at his closed door as she walked into Emma's office.
"He's on the phone with one of his contacts in Monaco," Emma informed her as she stood up and pulled her purse from a desk drawer. "I've been given major do-not-disturb orders."
STOLEN MOMENTS Page 19
