“I didn’t need that image in my head.”
“Well, he’s awesome,” Michelle wasn’t to be turned aside. “How’s Mr. Studly Dragon in the sack?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“What the hell?” Michelle put her hand on Isobel’s forehead as if checking for a temperature. “What were you doing all evening?”
“Eating fish and chips.”
“Sister-in-law, your priorities are seriously messed up. You know that, right?”
Did she? Isobel’s luck with lovers had never been high. Probably because she knew too much about what they were really feeling. Devlin’s interest was clear—no matter what he said—but he wasn’t making a big deal out of it either.
In fact, he’d turned her down before she’d even suggested the possibility. Which she hadn’t been about to do.
When they’d finally left the Ivar’s barge, a couple hours after they’d cleared away the meal, she was surprised that he didn’t finally suggest heading across the cut rather than swinging her back down to the houseboat. Or, being Devlin, just take control and head that way until she said no.
Did she want to say no?
The lake had been so quiet and peaceful. She’d have loved to do another late night sail. But he hadn’t offered. In case she turned his no into a yes?
Isobel lay back on the dock and stared up at the stars. Enough punched through the city lights that she could see where she was in the summer sky. Orion the warrior facing down Taurus the bull led her to her somewhat dimmer favorite, Cygnus the swan with Lyra the harp nearby. The dignified swan and the music fit for the gods.
So many nights she’d listened for that sweet music, but it had never seemed to find her.
And if she got any more morose or ridiculous, she’d turn this film over to someone else.
“Personally,” Michelle still sat at the edge of the dock, “I think you should screw the crap out of him.”
Isobel pulled one foot out of the water and tucked her knee up close enough to place it on the center of Michelle’s back.
“Hey, that’s cold.”
She gave a hard shove.
Michelle’s yelp of surprise would guarantee that she had no air when she surfaced.
But to protect herself, Isobel pushed to her feet and headed to bed.
Isobel checked in with her own feelings as Michelle sputtered and coughed before hauling herself up onto the dock.
Nope. No remorse at all.
Devlin was not going to lose another night’s sleep over the woman.
The first had been changing his boat’s name for her. What was up with that shit anyway? Stupid idea.
Yet, as he stared out at the Belle through his front window, she seemed to be sitting placidly, content with her new name.
He was so tired that he almost felt nauseous.
Closing his eyes only made it worse.
Lying down for five minutes felt like five hours and getting up wasn’t any better.
A walk. Maybe some movement would clear the woman out of his head.
Devlin headed out the door, patted Belle on the tip of the bow, and strolled along the waterfront.
It was past ten, and while Eastlake still hummed with Seattle’s traffic, three blocks down the hill, the silence wrapped around the small marinas tucked between clusters of houseboats. He liked this walk. When he was really in the mood, he’d walked the full six miles around the lake, grabbing a Chinese dinner at the halfway point. China Harbor had a dance floor that was always fun to watch over a beer. Sometimes even a little dancing and the occasional one-night tango between the sheets.
But tonight, his feet ground to a halt at the head of Isobel’s dock.
Even as he turned down the dock, he knew it was stupid.
Sure enough, the place was pitch black. Everyone sacked out.
Maybe if he sat on the end of the dock he could think his way clear of her. Women never confused him. Amused him at times, but they were just their own people who didn’t have all that much impact on his life. They’d come in, chart a parallel course for a while, maybe cling for a bit, then he’d drift on by.
But when he reached the end of the dock and looked back, he saw that there was a light in Isobel’s room.
Devlin was tired enough to wonder if she knew the answer to why he couldn’t sleep. Maybe, if she explained it, he’d be able to.
He couldn’t knock without rousting her armada of friends. But it wasn’t a big step from the end of the dock onto her back deck. Standing atop the opposite rail was all he needed to grab the edge of the master suite’s railing and haul himself up.
Two loungers on the second-story deck, a cozy little space for two, but the door stymied him.
Ten feet to the right was another set of double sliding doors to another bedroom. So he still couldn’t knock. The door itself was open to the cool night air, only the screen and an apricot-colored sheer barred his way.
He tested it.
Even the screen was unlocked.
Didn’t this woman have any goddamn sense of survival?
He shoved it open and placed one foot inside, brushing the sheer out of his way.
That’s when he felt a cold circle of steel press against his neck from behind. He’d bet it was exactly the size and shape of a gun barrel. It certainly felt as deadly as one. There hadn’t been a single sound, which said either Ricardo or Hannah was on the verge of splattering his brains all over Isobel’s bedroom—he’d bet on the former.
His eyes focused on Isobel. She was sitting up in her bed, the script spread across her knees, wearing one of those oversized t-shirts that seemed designed especially to be slid off a woman.
But rather than holding a pen and looking thoughtfully sexy, she was aiming a Taser at the center of his chest.
“Devlin.” She lowered the weapon, but the cold circle of the gun pressed against the back of his neck didn’t go away.
“Uh, hi.” Okay, he usually delivered a better line than that, but he hadn’t slept in two days and was definitely off his game. Having a gun pressed against the base of his skull wasn’t exactly helping him concentrate.
“What are you doing here?” She didn’t slip her weapon into a drawer on her nightstand, instead she slid it back under a crease in her pillow. That would be a good thing to keep in mind.
“I, uh, couldn’t sleep.”
“So, you decided that a little breaking and entering was the solution?”
“Okay, not my smoothest move. Could you at least tell your brother to holster his sidearm? I know it’s him just by how chatty he’s been about the way this whole scene is totally off-script.”
Isobel glanced over his shoulder, then nodded.
The cold circle went away.
By the time Devlin dared turn around, the outside deck was empty and they were alone. “Jesus, he’s spooky.”
“My twin was that way since long before Delta Force got a hold of him. If I couldn’t read emotions, I’d never have known what he was feeling while growing up.”
“Okay if I come the rest of the way in?” He glanced along the upper deck again, but there was no sign Ricardo had ever been there.
“That depends on why you’re here.”
“Wasn’t exactly sure myself. I went for a walk and seems I just ended up here.”
“On the second floor of my houseboat.”
Devlin shrugged. “It was on the way, Belle.”
“I’d ask to where, but…” she tipped her head for a moment.
The cascade of her dark hair was utterly mesmerizing. It knocked what little wind he had keeping his mind functioning completely out of his sails.
“But,” she came to some decision and smiled at him. “I get the feeling that I’m going to enjoy the answer.”
The light flicked off. By the shimmers of the lights across the water, he could see the shadow of her sliding back down in that big bed. There was a flutter and thump as the script hit the floor.
“Could we los
e the sidearm, too?”
There was a loud clunk of the Taser landing on the nightstand. Still in easy reach, but a definite improvement.
He checked once more that no one behind him was about to splatter his brains all over the walls.
Nope. Coast was clear.
He closed and locked the screen behind him.
He stopped at the edge of the bed and looked down at her dark hair spread over the light pillow. Too little light spilled into the room to see her expression.
“You sure, Belle?”
“If I wasn’t, we’d be dialing 911 for the hole we’d just drilled in you. What were you thinking, Beast?”
He hadn’t been thinking.
Devlin also decided that now wasn’t the time to start, so he undressed and slid in beside her.
Chapter 11
“I love this camera,” Katie was enthusing. “Michelle and I played with it for most of yesterday. It’s amazing.” She swung it up on her shoulder and aimed it at Isobel as she came down the steps.
Isobel was the last one downstairs, other than Devlin still passed out in her bed. What a glorious way to sleep. Lying on his hard, beautiful body after he’d melted her into a complete puddle of contentment. She’d listened to his heart and breathing until he was asleep, then slid just enough to the side that she could sleep wrapped around him. She’d woken in exactly the same heavenly position.
By the time she’d gotten out of the shower this morning, he’d rolled facedown onto her pillow. For the first time she’d seen the magnificent dragon tattoo spread across his shoulder blades. His t-shirt had revealed just the tip of a wing on one arm. On the other was the dragon’s fiery head. It looked as sleek and fast as his sailboat, with its long tail appearing to be curled around his spine until it ended below his waist.
She’d felt voyeuristic taking the time to study it, and finally pulled the sheet back over his otherwise unmarked body. It was some of the most beautiful work she’d ever seen.
Katie was still rhapsodizing about the camera. “It has so much excess resolution that we can mostly shoot a wide area. Then you can pan or zoom to partial-view but full-resolution images in the editing room.” She peeked at her around the camera. “Do you always have to look so fabulous?”
Isobel laughed. Running shorts and the sailing t-shirt Devlin had bought her yesterday (it fit just fine without a sundress under it) was meant for him, as a good morning thank you when he finally woke up.
Then Katie blinked in surprise.
Isobel shook her head quickly before Katie could say anything. But her smile was huge.
As Isobel reached the base of the stairs, Ricardo glanced her way. She offered him a happy smile to show that it was all good. The smile back reminded her so of the quiet boy she’d helped raise while Mama worked—after all, she was twelve minutes older.
Then he shifted his glance in Michelle’s direction where she was puttering about in the kitchen.
Isobel shook her head infinitesimally and Ricardo’s slight nod said that he hadn’t told Michelle, and what Isobel chose to do about that was fine with him.
She gave him a hard hug. Isobel had no need to open her senses to feel him, never had. The love there was deep and solid. The first message that had telepathically broken through to Michelle, as he was being tortured in some jungle hellhole, had been begging Michelle to tell his sister that he loved her. If the roles had been reversed, she’d probably have done the same.
She was still debating whether to announce Devlin’s presence to everyone or relish the surprise when he strolled down the stairs looking as smug as the proverbial cat in the night. Isobel had always hated when men did that, but she expected that Devlin would be no different.
There was a knock on the front door. She was closest and answered it.
It was Devlin, standing there as if he’d just arrived. Though he wore the same clothes as last night and needed a shave.
“But—”
“Good morning. What’s on the agenda for today?” Then came the smug smile.
He was giving her the choice of just greeting him or revealing that he was something more than that.
Isobel had never been one for playing games.
So, she pulled him down for a kiss right across the threshold. In seconds, he had her backed up against the jamb of the still open door.
Devlin leaned into that wonderful body of hers. He loved that she didn’t spew any morning-after-denial actress shit. Sure, last night had been awesome, but he’d expected the cold-shoulder thing. Or flat-out denial.
He was surprised that she hadn’t woken him and thrown him out before dawn. It was her bed and her prerogative. But instead he’d woken up with the sheet and light blanket tucked neatly around him.
Still, not sure about her reaction—especially after yesterday’s fiasco—he’d decided it was better if she had the choice on how she wanted to play it. So, he’d slid across the outside deck and hopped down onto the dock rather than coming down the stairs.
But if she was game to greet him as lover in front of her friends, and they didn’t like it, he’d take them on, Delta Force or not.
He did take full advantage of the moment. Offering that awesome body of hers for a little early morning manhandling, he wasn’t going to resist for a second.
When he heard Michelle’s “What the fuck!”, he figured that he was probably pushing his luck. He could feel Isobel’s smile as she held the kiss a little longer with both arms around his neck.
Definitely his kind of woman. Yeah, it sucked that she’d be gone at the end of the film but, for once, he really was going to enjoy this shoot.
He did pat that fine ass one last time. Then he shooed her into the room and closed the front door behind him—eliciting a squeak of surprise from the other side.
Devlin opened it and let Jennie into the room before closing it again She must have been standing mere feet away, which almost made him blush—something he hadn’t done since Marta Hegadus had taught him a few things behind the middle school gymnasium.
However, now it was time to face whatever shitstorm her crew of “friends” was going to throw.
Ricardo’s careful nod didn’t say whether he was happy or sorry about not having shot Devlin last night before he’d entered Isobel’s bedroom.
The others were still too surprised to have any other reaction—except maybe he’d just slept with their goddess.
Except Michelle.
He thought better of her when the first thing she did was wrap Isobel in an intense hug.
Then she stepped up to face him. She was only a few inches below his six feet, except her Crayola red cowboy boots put them eye to eye.
“You hurt her this much, shithead,” she pinched her fingers together as if showing just how small she’d crush his balls given the chance, “and I won’t need my husband to kill what’s left of you.”
She sounded actually serious, which showed just how much Michelle misjudged her best friend. If he hurt Isobel, Devlin knew he’d be lucky if she didn’t shoot him herself.
He kissed Michelle on the cheek and whispered, “Dare you to try, Red.”
Devlin had braced his gut in advance, so her fist just bounced off his abs.
“Don’t ever call me that again.”
“Whatever you say, Red.”
His wasn’t quite quick enough to avoid the boot heel that crashed down on his toes.
Chapter 12
“Let’s review the video of the locations we toured yesterday. I think we’ve actually covered most of what we need.” It had taken everything in her power to not laugh at Devlin as he’d hobbled about during the final breakfast preparations.
Jennie flapped her fresh-printed manuscript in a way that said she had everything the story needed.
Isobel could see that it already had a few marks on it, but way below the Jennie norm, so they must be close. She’d learned quickly enough on this project that Jennie-the-writer had lost none of her habit of near-infinite re
visions in pursuit of perfection on the page. The surprise was how easy Jennie-the-director was to work with once she changed hats.
It was possible that they’d found the rest of what Jennie needed. Jennie had done a lot of scouting herself before Devlin came aboard. Isobel still had to see the Space Needle and the Opera House at Seattle Center, ride a ferryboat… There were a few others, but she couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around much.
Devlin had made her brain atypically mushy on the inside. To say he was a skilled lover was a waste of breath. Added to his hard, sailor’s body, he was a natural-born recipe for success between the sheets—or up against the door jamb (her body was still buzzing from that good-morning kiss). But there hadn’t been a single instant where she had the impression he was making love to the international film star. When it was just them, she was the staunch Belle to his playful Beast. Again, no way to tell for certain, but it had definitely felt that way.
Isobel ordered herself to focus.
Everyone was gathered in the living room end of the houseboat’s main floor. It was a surprisingly flexible space that was working well for the start of the film. People were nursing their second cups of coffee as they sat in the chairs and sofas facing the big screen TV.
“This is the footage I captured yesterday.”
Hannah began running the playback from Isobel’s headset video camera.
The first flash on the screen was Devlin’s eye roll as she announced he was on Candid Camera.
“Hey,” Michelle piped up. “The camera really likes this dingbat.”
Isobel looked at it critically. It was true. There were some people that a movie camera simply…liked. There were also ones it hated, making wide-set eyes look manic or adding way more than an apparent ten pounds. Devlin’s dark good looks and clear features made him particularly attractive on screen. She looked to the man himself. He was damned attractive in life, too. And he knew it. He didn’t flaunt it in any way, looking more the rough-and-ready type, but it was there.
At the Clearest Sensation Page 7
