by Cathryn Fox
Clinging to him with her eyes shut tight, Roxanne let the stunning sensations slowly leave her until she finally felt herself relax. She turned her head to face this man with amazed fascination. He lifted himself slightly from her so that he could look at her. His face hovered a hair above hers.
Roxanne was acutely aware of his warm breath, of the sweaty, earthy scent of sex that surrounded them, and she wanted to say something to him. But she was fresh out of snappy remarks. Nothing seemed appropriate to say to this man to adequately express how she felt. And just exactly how did she feel? She had to admit to herself that she was overwhelmed; completely bowled over by the level of intensity and excitement this man aroused in her. And though she admitted that to herself, she didn’t dare admit it to him.
Looking into his lazy blue gaze, as he continued to stare back at her, she recognized the blaze of passion that lay just beneath the surface. He spoke first.
“A guy could lose control with a woman like you.” His voice was gravelly.
“You mean it’s not always this intense?” she asked.
“Hell no. And you?”
“Never,” she said. She couldn’t believe she admitted this much. His slow smile lifted his mouth to a half-grin and his eyes glittered. She grinned back without guile. She felt giddy with excitement over their discovery of each other.
“In that case, we’ll have to make the most of our evening together.” He lowered himself slightly and leaned on his elbow to one side, still watching her, still inside her. She turned her head slightly. She felt him growing inside her.
“You read minds too.” She trailed her fingertips down the length of his side to his buttocks where she began a lazy massage, pulling him into her more deeply.
The phone rang.
“Ignore it,” Barry said. He took her earlobe between his lips as he slowly pulsed back and forth inside her. It rang again.
“Who is it?” Roxanne asked. He must know who would be calling at this hour. The pleasing sensations he was creating tingled through her, but the ring of the phone didn’t stop. It rang again. No answering machine came on to stop it.
Barry stopped all motion and lifted his head. She could swear he was about to say something, then instead he groaned an oath and rolled off her and off the couch in one motion. He walked to the phone and picked it up.
Roxanne watched him, standing there half naked. She listened to him and didn’t want to be told who it was. What if it was another woman?
All the pleasure drained out of her and she straightened herself up, retrieved her panties from the floor and put them back on. Barry continued his conversation in a low voice and Roxanne wondered what to do, as she sat back on the couch and took a sip of her forgotten brandy. More importantly, she wondered how she felt.
Not great.
When he hung up the phone and walked back to her he didn’t seem at all self-conscious that he was dressed only in his shirt and socks. He gave her a calculated look, and then retrieved his own pants to put them back on.
He sat on the other end of the couch, leaned back and reached his arm along the back to touch Roxanne’s hair.
“So why did you get dressed?” He frowned.
“Why did you?”
The smirk flashed onto his face before he broke into a full-fledged laugh.
“That was a woman?” She needed an answer.
“Yes.”
She stood. She wouldn’t wait to be asked to leave.
“No need to go. It was my ex-wife.”
She sat back down. If the call was a non-issue for him, then she wouldn’t make an issue of it. She’d been enjoying herself too much and she wanted to get that feeling back again. She was glad that he wasn’t going to ask her to leave.
He leaned toward her, and for a moment she thought he intended to pick up where they left off, but instead he only touched the laugh line on her face.
“You laugh a lot don’t you?”
“So do you.”
“Not as much as I’d like to, but I try.” He retrieved his hand and took a cigarette from a pack in the end table drawer and then he went to the bar where he lit it and took a long puff.
Roxanne laughed at him. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. This smoking habit of yours is too ironic,” she said.
With that, he shook his head, raised his eyebrows and planted the butt in the ashtray to put it out.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what the call was about?” He came around and stood in front of the bar, leaning back with his arms folded.
“No.”
He raised his brow and shook his head.
“She called to give me the message that my daughter Lindy won’t be coming over tomorrow as planned. And that she’ll be gone until Monday.” He stood there, arms still folded, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of the situation.
But she knew. He may be disappointed that he wouldn’t be seeing his daughter, she couldn’t quite tell, but she was most definitely not. She rose from the couch and sauntered over to him at the bar, bringing her glass. She poured herself more brandy.
“That’s good to hear because three really is a crowd.” She stood before him and took a swallow of her brandy.
As was characteristic of him, she was beginning to realize, he laughed with great amusement and flashing eyes. And when she put her brandy down on the bar, he reached forward and gathered her into his arms to lean back against him.
“How would you like a tour of the bed…I mean the house.” Barry laughed at himself.
“You have a one-track mind.”
“Suddenly I do.”
“Must be catching,” Roxanne said as she snuggled herself against him even closer to feel again his growing desire.
Barry cleared his throat but didn’t move. “So tell me about this money problem of yours,” he said.
Roxanne raised her brow in surprise and pushed herself away from him. She picked up her drink and headed back to the couch. She hoped he wasn’t having second thoughts about her, but then after a quick glance over her shoulder she reassured herself that the interest was still there. Maybe instead, he didn’t want her to have second thoughts about spending a night with a sex fiend. She smiled at the thought. Then, after taking a deep breath, she answered his question.
“Nothing to tell. I’m broke. But I’ll get by. I have a lot of assets to sell.” She winked and he, of course, laughed. She couldn’t make herself ask him for the interview just yet. She didn’t want to spoil the evening. She didn’t want him to think it was about money or her job. Because it had nothing to do with either. Shaking her head, she also realized as soon as she asked him the favor she would look bad. Not now.
“So tell me about this smoking problem of yours.”
“Nothing to tell. I’ll get over it—eventually. What about your late husband? Why’d you marry him?” Barry came over and joined her on the couch. He wasn’t giving her any room to breathe.
“Not that again. What about your ex-wife, why’d you marry her?”
“Because she was pregnant.” He stopped.
She waited for him to continue. He didn’t. He took a swig of his brandy.
“Tell me about it,” she prodded.
“We got married, she had the baby, and six months later she was history.” He said it matter-of-factly.
“She walked on you.” Roxanne was not surprised.
“Yeah. Said something about not being able to stand it anymore. But I told her up front I wasn’t thrilled with her, or marriage. Warned her not to expect much from me. I guess she was sure she could change all that. But she didn’t.”
“And now?”
“Now she’s married to some baseball player and they’re all playing house somewhere, happy as clams.”
“She likes sports, eh?”
“Yeah. She was a spoiled, bored socialite who thought she’d get her kicks by taming the big bad basketball player from the wrong side of the tracks.” Barry took another long sip of his drink.
&n
bsp; “But you showed her, didn’t you?”
He finally let a small half grin show at her taunt.
“You didn’t tell me yet why you married your late husband?” He gave her a mock-daring look. She figured—what the hell? Since they seemed to be sharing secrets.
“Not because I was in love with him. He was a wonderful person and he adored me. He was very attentive and indulgent, kind of overwhelmed me with it. I confess I’m a sucker for that kind of attention. He also had lots of money and a prestigious family. I guess I was impressed with it all.”
“So you married him for his money?” Barry’s face was neutral.
She nodded. “It looks that way.” She stood up, averting her eyes. She did not want to have to explain the unexplainable to him. But the sound of his amused laughter startled her and she turned back to him.
“Then I don’t get it—why the money problems?” Barry asked.
Roxanne had no idea what to make of his response, but she was relieved as much as she was surprised. “You don’t pay attention to the news much do you?”
“Only sports,” he admitted.
“I suppose I should be thankful for that. Though it seems you’re the only one. I’ve become a branded woman these days. I’ve been labeled a gold digger, and stories invariably include veiled hints about Donald’s suspicious and untimely death. Every time I think the story is dead they turn around and find something else to talk about. It’s almost as if someone’s feeding them stories.” She sat back down.
“What about the money?”
“Oh that. I gave it all back.” She looked at him with a shrug. “I denied the will. They would have contested it anyway.” She took another sip of her brandy, remembering again what she needed from this man. An uneasy feeling swept over her.
“Then you didn’t marry him for his money after all?”
“It looks that way.”
He prompted her with an arch of one brow and a not quite CIA interrogation-level stare.
She mentally squirmed and then squared her shoulders. He’d asked for it. “Bonnie chalks it up to fatherly neglect, but I…”
“Who’s Bonnie?”
“My caretaker,” she responded automatically to his interruption.
“You get advice from your gardener?” He was enjoying this.
“No, she takes care of me,” she told him without the silent “stupid ass” tacked on for attitude. “Since my mother died.”
That took the amused look off his face.
“When you were a child.” He sat back and swirled the liquid in his glass. “Was it a lot of money?” He changed to her other least favorite topic.
“Not that again. This soul-baring stuff isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”
“I like seeing you squirm.”
“I can think of a lot better ways for you to make me squirm,” she said what was on her mind for better or worse. Anything was preferable to this painful conversation. She’d already broken her rule about easy affairs with shallow men. Right now she felt as if she were naked and covered with boils, figuratively speaking. But the real issue was the fact that Barry Dennis was far, far from a shallow man. She shuddered. That’s what made him both exciting and frightening.
“Oh, we’ll get to more of that.”
“All right then.” She resigned herself with a sigh. “Yes. Don left me lots of money. Even by your standards,” she told him.
“How do you know what my standards are? Where I come from if you had ten dollars in your pocket that was considered a lot of money. We used to dream of having hundreds. I never imagined thousands, never mind millions of dollars.” Barry had stopped smiling as he remembered.
“And now you’re a multimillionaire.”
He looked at her seriously and paused a second. “Yeah. But my goal in life is to die without a penny. Money’s worthless unless it’s spent.”
She laughed at that and his lopsided grin flashed at her. She felt easier with the conversation back to him again.
“What are you doing for money now that you got fired from your TV job?” he asked.
Her ease was short lived. He couldn’t possibly be reading my mind. Then she took a deep breath. There wouldn’t be a more opportune time.
“Don’t worry about me. I already got the job back. I start again next week and this time they’ll stick to the contracted three days a week.” She smiled, but her pulse was racing at the high stakes gamble she was taking.
“How did you manage that negotiation?” Barry looked impressed. Roxanne took another, deeper breath.
“I promised them I could get that interview with you—and they believed me.” She kept her smile in place but didn’t take any more breaths as she watched the astonished look on his face. Then all at once, he broke out in uproarious laughter. She breathed again.
“This means you’ll do it?”
“I’ll do it.” His laughter subsided and he shook his head. “I knew I didn’t have to waste my sympathy on you.”
“Great. I’ll call your agent next week and arrange it.”
“There’s one condition though.” His half-grin was in place.
“What’s that?”
“It has to be a live interview.” Mischief blazed in his eyes and the one dimple creased his cheek.
She knew he must be up to no good, but for some reason she trusted this man. He had something on his mind. But she felt safe. “You’ve got a deal.” She raised her chin to meet the challenge of his dare. It was like they were playing a game.
The next morning Roxanne woke feeling contented. Sun streamed through the tall, uncovered windows of the unfamiliar room. She turned her head to see Barry, eyes closed, hair disheveled, smelling of musty sweat and sex with a hint of smoke. She felt her stomach clench and her nerves tingle and it felt good. She stretched her length alongside his. She didn’t even come close to reaching his toes and she smiled to herself. As he lay there on his back, eyes closed and breathing deeply, she contemplated how she was going to wake him. Propping herself on her elbow, she took a long look at his face. She couldn’t resist touching the dark scratchy stubble along his chin. Her finger continued its travel toward his full lips where she lightly caressed their softness.
“I wasn’t dreaming after all,” Barry said even before he opened his eyes and reached over to touch a loose strand of Roxanne’s hair.
She jumped back and laughed. “Oh yes you were, but the dream isn’t over yet,” she whispered.
“Now I remember. This is where I lose all the control of a sane man. I don’t think I’ll ever wake up.” He took her in his arms, enveloping her.
Roxanne felt playful and her fingers went from light tickling of the taught muscles in his abdomen to an all-out attack. The ensuing struggle had them both panting from their laughter.
“I give up. I’m ravenous. I need some food. I think I spent more energy last night than in an entire series of playoff games. Let’s go out to breakfast.” Barry rolled out of bed.
Roxanne mentally noted the comparison to basketball. She surmised that’s how everything and everyone was with Barry—compared to basketball.
Swooshing her covers aside, she revealed her naked body. “I’ll go out, but I’ll look awfully conspicuous in my cocktail dress.” Roxanne lifted her brow in mock challenge. She loved the fiery glow of passion that lit Barry’s blue eyes. He sucked in his breath and if she wasn’t mistaken, she’d caught him off guard this time. She didn’t know if it was because of her—or because of himself and his reaction to her.
The long, lean muscles of his body seemed always to be in motion. She sighed. It wasn’t that she wasn’t hungry too, but she thought she’d much rather stay in and play with Barry.
He moved a hand onto her stomach. Both their eyes followed its motion as if hypnotized. She couldn’t remember a man’s touch ever being so stimulating. He moved his fingers in a circle around her navel and all she could do was nothing. Barry looked up at her and she dragged her eyes away from his hand to me
et his gaze.
“You don’t want to go out?” he confirmed.
“Not unless you know of any place formal to go for breakfast?” She spoke softly. Roxanne knew he was hungry, but she also knew there was something else pulling him, another more powerful urge. This man had complete control of her. But he didn’t have any control. They were both lost in their sensual awareness of each other. And Roxanne didn’t care; she reveled in it; marveled at the pleasure of complete abandonment.
“That’s right, all you have is that slinky number from last night. Maybe we’ll find something to eat in the kitchen.” He leaned close to her as he spoke. She could feel her heart beat faster the closer he got to her, anticipating the hot silky feel of his naked body against hers.
But he never touched her. Instead, he leapt out of bed. She didn’t bother hiding her disappointment and he laughed at the pout on her face. Now she knew what it felt like to be teased. Roxanne wasn’t sure how much of her disappointment was from frustrated passion—and how much was from bruised ego. Apparently his appetite for food was greater than his appetite for her after all. She kicked at the blankets spilling onto the floor and then propped herself up to make herself comfortable.
“I hope I can find some food. I really am starved,” Barry said as he turned and looked around the room as if he would find it in the bedroom.
“You sound like a stranger in your own house. Ah, but I forgot—someone else takes care of you.”
“I have a housekeeper.” He gave her a warning look, as if he had something to hide. Roxanne wondered if he was hiding another woman, then decided he had to deal with that problem himself. She refused to think about it again.
“I won’t be gone long…” he stopped and picked up the alarm clock and gave it a puzzled frown. “Look at this. It’s almost noon—no wonder I’m so damned hungry!” He towered over her lounging body.
“I confess. I turned off the alarm last night. I hope you don’t mind.” She wasn’t worried. Roxanne couldn’t help the smile that escaped. Barry stood there stark naked before her with the alarm clock in one hand and the other on his hip. What a picture he made, she thought. His features slowly turned to that familiar grin. How could he only smile with half his mouth—and make it so engaging—she wondered? It emphasized the dimple in that cheek. And his eyes: relentless blue blazes of color that intimidated by the very virtue of their intensity. Or was it Barry, the man, who was so intimidating? He stood exceedingly tall, but not lanky or awkward. She let her eyes wander down the length of his body to figure how this could be so. He had ropey muscles that defined his body and gave him that look of perpetual motion. She decided that he was simply perfectly proportioned. In fact, Roxanne decided, he was simply gorgeous, and her smile deepened at the thought.
