“You hardly ate anything.”
“Calories add up, you know.”
He got quiet again, then said, “The last thing I want you to do is think about what you can and can’t have. Promise me that.”
Raising her eyebrows, she decided not to comment. Most guys didn’t understand what it was like to constantly watch their weight. Damned if she would ever put all those pounds back on.
His next words rocked her. “You’ve always been the prettiest woman in the room, Leigh. Don’t you know that?”
Her skin burned with the compliment, but she still wasn’t used to it. He was only buttering her up, right?
“Thanks,” she said, grinning, starting to walk along the shore while the waves reached toward her, then pulled back with a hiss of foam on sand.
“You don’t believe me,” he said.
It was time for levity again. “Maybe I would if you’d tell me the exact circumstances under which you’ve seen me before, Callum....”
“Your persistence is entertaining.”
“Hey, that’s what I do for a living. Entertain people. Have them watch my every televised move.”
The air seemed to grow sultrier at her comment. Was it because he didn’t respond right away? Or was it because she liked the thought of being watched by him, entertaining him even now as delicious tingles gnawed at her?
It was as if he could read her mind. “What does it feel like?” he asked. “Being in front of the camera, never knowing who’s watching?”
“Good question.” She came to a stop, allowing the breeze to keep playing with her short hem, hoping he was getting a rise out of the subtle, flirty motion. The extended verbal foreplay was getting to her, and she wondered if there’d ever be more than just this.
But she was also mulling over his question. What was it like to be in front of the camera? She’d never really thought about it that much, but in this moment, she realized that she’d always wanted to be looked at. And now that she had a new body, new confidence, it was fun. Thrilling.
“I guess I get an adrenaline rush being on TV,” she said softly.
“What exactly do you like about it?”
They were clearly gearing up for part two of the game they’d begun last night, testing the line that separated get-to-know-you politeness and...well, the sort of things you’d only do behind a closed door. He obviously wanted more than the taste of honey she’d been teasing him with while she’d eaten dinner and he’d watched.
And she wanted it, too. That was why she’d come here again. That was why she allowed her sweater to gape open, showing a bit more of her dress as she turned toward the mansion on the cliff.
Her pulse kicked, the oxygen thin in her lungs, making her voice breathy. “I’ve never told anyone this before.”
“You can tell me.”
What was it about him that made her expose a different side of herself?
“I like knowing that whoever is watching me on TV turned the channel so they could see me and what I do in the kitchen,” she said. “I like that they want to watch.” She took a step toward the mansion—just the first of hopefully many more. “I like wondering what they’re thinking as they watch me.”
Her heartbeat accelerated as she waited for his response.
When it came, his tone was rough. “What am I thinking right now?”
“You tell me.”
“I’m sure you already know. You came back to this mansion tonight knowing.”
Bolder and bolder. And with each passing second, throbs of hot blood took her over—in her chest, her belly, her clit.
Here it went.
“I think,” she said, “that you liked the little show I put on for you with the food last night, and now you’re watching how the wind is playing with my dress. You’re wondering if I’m just a tease and I’m going to give you only a peek of leg before I reach down and smooth the material over my thighs so you don’t catch an accidental look at what’s underneath my skirt.”
Even as she said it, the breeze was getting the best of the cotton, making it inch up. She fought the good-girl instinct to push the skirt down.
He spoke. “You’re right. But I’m also hoping...”
“What?”
“That the wind is going to help me out and lift that skirt higher, even if you don’t.”
Ba-boom. His blunt words hit her with the force of a pounding wave, making her stomach swirl and her clit ache.
The decent Leigh—the one who’d grown up obeying all the rules and never coloring out of the lines—would’ve bolted now that she had nothing more to fulfill for the basket date. But the decent girl had already left the building, and a new girl had arrived.
“I’ve never objected to offering help when it’s needed,” Leigh whispered.
As the salty wind blew around her, silence reigned. She’d never done sassy come-ons before with a man. Sex for her had always been perfunctory. Short-term encounters without heat or heart. The only kind of sex that girls with shaky self-esteem had.
This was truly the line she and Callum had been tiptoeing around, and once she fully crossed it, there was no going back.
With a delicious quiver, she crossed it.
Her gaze locked on the brooding mansion as she clutched at her skirt with one hand, then slowly, painstakingly, purposely eased up the material. It slid up her thigh, whispering over her skin with sensuous deliberation.
Was his blood screaming through him just as sharply as hers? Was he also holding his breath, waiting? Needing?
When she got to the top of her thigh, she stopped.
“Red or white?” she said into the phone, unable to resist teasing him. “Devil or angel?”
New Leigh was good at this.
“Does it matter what color your underwear is?” he asked, sounding impatient.
“To me? Absolutely. Undies always matter to a girl, even if you guys don’t care.”
“I care.” His laugh was jagged. “Show me which one you’re wearing, Leigh.”
She laughed. “You’ll need to tell me something about yourself first. Like...do you really have black hair, or is that just what you told me last night to make yourself more mysterious?”
Now his laugh was really amused.
“I’ve got dark hair, just like millions of other men. Is that good enough for you?”
He didn’t say anything more. But she was already looking around her to see that she was still alone on the beach and that there weren’t any other mansions close enough to see what she was doing.
She coaxed her skirt up higher, showing him her delicate white panties.
“I had a feeling they’d be angelic,” he said, and she could tell from his tone that the color did matter.
Behind her, the waves sounded as if they were coming in harder, and she felt the push and pull of them in her belly. Desire was washing through her, hot and getting more forceful by the second.
Finally, he spoke. “It’s time for you to come inside, Leigh.”
* * *
ADAM DIDN’T WAIT for her to climb up the wood steps that led to the rear of the mansion, where he’d left the back door by the pool unlocked for her.
He had already walked away from the darkened window on the top floor where he’d been standing, watching her on the beach. Watching as she’d revealed a small part of herself to him with such demure sensuality.
A peek of white panties.
The sight of underwear had never worked him up so much, making him go hard so quickly. And maybe it wasn’t the lingerie itself that turned him on—it was the fact that he’d heard from Beth that Leigh wasn’t a woman who slept around much. She also hadn’t had any long-term relationships that Beth knew of, but there Leigh was on the beach, sexy as hell, pulling up her dr
ess for him.
All he wanted to do right now was go downstairs to one of the living rooms, where he’d built a fire earlier, where he’d laid down blankets and oversize silk pillows along with the wine chilling in an ice bucket and the gourmet cheese plate he’d put together. And he wanted to see her face as he stepped into the room.
Would she recognize the quiet boy who’d left college after such a short time to become a man on his family’s ranch?
Of course not. There was no way she would remember him—not from merely one party when he’d seen her across the room and hadn’t even gone over to introduce himself. If he did show himself to her tonight, she would get a “who are you?” blankness in her eyes.
He felt a pang but brushed it off, telling himself that not being recognized by Leigh didn’t matter. He just didn’t want to destroy what they had going on—something nearly anonymous and definitely temporary.
He wouldn’t even need to touch her to get his fill tonight. His heart couldn’t take it, because after all this time, it still hadn’t healed from Carla. It never would.
He headed straight for the darkened upper floor above the living room then reclined in the chair he’d placed behind the barred railing.
They had disconnected their call after he’d told her to take the stairs to the mansion, but now, as he heard the back door open and shut, he dialed her disposable cell, and she answered, out of breath.
He spoke before she could. “Take the hallway.”
“You realize that if this were a horror movie, I’d be setting myself up as the girl who everyone in the audience yells at because she’s walking into danger.”
Again, her sense of humor. “This isn’t a horror movie, and I’m not dangerous.”
“Seriously? Because my friend Margot compared this whole setup to a scary story yesterday.”
“But you’re not scared.”
“You’re right. Besides, the hallway doesn’t give off much of a sense of danger. It’s dim, not dark.”
The wall sconces were set on low, and he’d known it would be enough to light her way. “Are you at the end yet?”
“Near enough.”
“Turn right.”
He could almost feel her approaching—the ache inside of him got edgier with every thud of his pulse.
“Are you in the living room yet?” he asked.
“The one with the fire, blankets and Cleopatra spread? Yeah, I think so.”
He was near enough that he could have raised his voice and she would’ve heard, but he didn’t want to break the illusion that he wasn’t quite there. It only added to the exhibitionist feel of this game, and she’d already admitted that she enjoyed being watched.
She appeared below him, the phone to her ear as she looked around at the Italian leather–upholstered furniture, the framed Renaissance sketches on the wall, the brass trimmings reflecting the flames from the fire. He swallowed. Hard.
Leigh took his breath away every time he saw her, and for a moment he wished he were a different man. Wished that he could click off the phone and go downstairs to touch her long blond hair or brush his fingers down her face, feeling her skin.
But he was the same old Adam—the guy Beth had accused of being abnormal last night. And that was all he would ever be after Carla.
He leaned his forearms on his thighs, his phone to his ear, watching through the upper-floor rails, totally shrouded in shadow. “Put your phone on speaker and lay it on those blankets.”
“I guess your wish is my command.” Smiling, she bent to a knee, placing the phone on the ground near a big gold-fringed pillow. “What now?”
He could hear his muffled voice coming through the phone on her blanket. “I’ll leave what’s next up to you.”
His words seemed to ring through the air. It was up to her: stay or go. Advance or retreat.
Obviously, she hadn’t expected this. He’d been giving the suggestions, unless you counted the time she’d demanded to know what color his hair was. But that had been a trivial thing, easily given up. A lot of men had dark hair and it wouldn’t reveal much about him.
No fool, she glanced toward the upper floor, and his throat beat with his pulse just as if he’d been discovered. At the same time, she sat down on the blanket, slipping off her baggy white sweater, tossing it aside.
The fire crackled behind her, casting a golden glow over her as she reached for the wine in its bucket.
“A 2009 Riesling. Good pick, Callum.”
“It goes well with the cheeses, especially the Parmigiano-Reggiano.”
She plucked a slice off the silver tray, then fetched the lone wineglass, unstopped the cork and poured. “Are you drinking up there, too?”
“I was getting around to it.” Glancing at the standing silver ice bucket with the same wine sticking out of it, he reached for a glass near his own chair, then poured. He lifted his drink in a toast even though she couldn’t see him. “To fun and games.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
She raised her glass, toasted him, then took a sip. When she was done, she nibbled on the cheese and put it down. Truthfully, she looked a little nervous as she scooted back against a large pillow facing him.
“Leigh,” he said, “you know that this doesn’t have to go any further. I don’t want you to feel like I’m expecting anything.”
She touched the hem of her dress, her long bare legs stretched out in front of her, tipped by those hot cowgirl boots. “I wouldn’t have come inside this mansion if I...” Her words trailed off until she added, “I’ve never given in to my whims all that much in life.”
And she was determined to change that now?
His heartbeat seemed to be the only sound besides the crackle of flames in the fireplace.
Instead of talking, she held her wineglass in one hand, her other still touching the hem of her skirt. His cock pressed against the fly of his jeans, making him shift in his seat.
She lowered her voice, but he could still hear her loud and clear over the phone.
“What color are your eyes, Callum?” she asked, winding the material of her skirt around a finger, lifting it a touch higher.
So this was how it would go. Her asking questions, him giving in. Smart woman.
But he could play this.
“They’re brown.” He wouldn’t tell her they were almost gold. For some reason it was too much detail, but brown was still close enough to the truth.
She laughed. “Funny. With a name like Callum, I pictured blue eyes.”
“Because it sounds so Irish, huh?” He wouldn’t tell her that he’d assumed his grandpa’s name for this charade.
Instead of pulling up her skirt like last time, she instead reached up and idly rested her fingers at her collarbone, just above the buttons on her bodice. “Good. I can start putting together a real picture of you now that I know a couple of details.”
It wouldn’t be much of an image, and once again he almost wished he could go to her, revealing himself so she could fantasize about him when this night was over, lying in bed, touching herself.
She was toying with the first button, and he waited to see where she was going to go with this. Waited as pressure built in his cock.
Unable to stand it, he said, “Why don’t you just do it, Leigh?”
“Because you didn’t say please.” She’d lowered her gaze, looking up at him through her lashes like a temptress.
Damn it all. “Please.”
Clearly noticing the edgy note in his tone, she undid the button. His lungs felt about ready to burn up.
Her smile grew, as if she were imagining him devouring her with his gaze. As if she were getting off on it just as much as he was.
She undid another button. Another.
When she was near the waistline, she
stopped, her bodice gaping, showing him a lacy white bra that matched what he’d seen of her panties.
“White lace,” he murmured.
She propped one of her booted feet on the blanket, leaning back on the pillow, giving him the sauciest look he’d seen from her yet while casually waving her knee back and forth. He could see a glimpse of her underwear, and it almost set something loose in him.
He was throbbing hard now, his cock straining from the steam whistling through his veins and gathering down below.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come down here with me?” she asked.
His mouth was dry, and he swallowed again. “I think you know the answer.” Temporary. No name or face. No consequences.
“That’s too bad. I’m having a lot of fun, even all by myself.”
He was, too. More than he’d had since... God, he wasn’t going to think about Carla.
Leigh reached for her wineglass, then lazily drank from it, putting it down again. Every move she made was innocently arousing, as if she had no idea that he was about to shoot through the roof. But from the way she kept slyly peeking up at him, he knew that she knew.
“If I’d had more wine already,” she said, running a hand along the inside of one thigh, “I’d say that I feel a buzz. But I’ve only had a little, and...”
“What?” The word had scratched his throat.
She gave him one of those lowered-lash glances again. “I feel like I can do anything and not go home regretting it.”
Her fingers came dangerously close to the juncture of her thighs, and he sucked in a sharp breath.
She laughed again, as though she was having the time of her life. “I feel even more reckless than last night because I know that what happens in this house...”
“Stays in this house.”
No strings. Mystery dates that would stay mysterious because she didn’t know who he was and never would.
As if wanting to prove what she’d just said, she bit her lip, then let her leg cant to the side, exposing more of her panties. But this time, she slid her hand to them.
He officially couldn’t breathe now, couldn’t move, either, for fear that he would break apart when he should be holding himself together. Yet as she coasted her fingers over herself, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Mystery Date Page 6
