The Pleasure Slave i-2

by Gena Showalter

  Faith did. She arched two thin brows and eyed Julia. "Not dating, huh?" Julia tried to wriggle away. He merely tightened his hold, liking the curve of her waist against him. But the tighter he held her, the more she squirmed, and a surge of heat shot straight to his groin. Every point of contact reminded him of how they'd ended things today. Unsatisfied. And he wanted satisfaction.

  "Where are you staying, Tristan?" Faith asked, her tone sharper.

  "I live here with Julia," he answered. Julia sucked in a great gulp of air.

  "He doesn't mean that like it sounds."

  Just to irritate her, he added smugly, "We also share a chamber." He faced her, giving her a smile that clearly said, Deny that.

  Frowning, Faith anchored her hands to her hips.

  "Is he serious? You're living with a man, and you don't think to call me? To invite me over so I can meet him?"

  "Yes, we're living together, but—" Julia shook her head and sliced a hand through the air. "Oh, never mind. There's no way to explain."

  Tossing him a backward glare, she stepped from his reach. With clipped, jerky motions, she unlocked the door and ushered her sister inside.

  "I'm inviting you over for supper right now. Tristan ordered eight double bacon cheeseburgers for himself. Since I don't want him to spontaneously explode, I'm going to make him be a good boy and share with you."

  "Do you mind sharing?" Faith asked him. By Elliea, he was beyond famished, almost near death. For lunch, Julia had fed him a tiny piece of fish.

  He, who had once consumed an entire Daerabar on his own. Now he was in desperate need of sustenance. But to Faith, he grumbled, "Aye. I will share."

  "Wonderful." She smiled, revealing two sweetly shaped dimples. "I'd be happy to stay, then. I've missed you, Jules, and it's obvious we need to talk more."

  "I've missed you, too." Relaxing slightly, Julia removed the bag from his hands, emptied the contents on the table and dispersed the food until everyone held what they wanted. "So what have you been up to lately?" she asked her sister. "Last I heard you were traveling through a jungle."

  Faith immediately launched into a tale about her latest expedition, a six-week journey through South America. Tristan only half listened. As he devoured five small slabs of meat and bread that did not settle well in his stomach, his attention focused on Julia.

  He watched her eat, watched her mouth work slowly, sensually. Watched her tongue slide over the lushness of her lips. The words she'd spoken earlier played in his mind over and over, taunting him.

  Sometimes, when I look at you, my hands ache to move up your chest, to feel your heart beating beneath my palms. Had she thought of him when she'd spoken, or had she thought of Puny Peter? Julia chose that moment to glance up. Their gazes collided. Blood coursed through his veins like a newly awakened river. His hunger for food was forgotten, and his jaw tightened right along with the rest of him. By the sudden flare of passion in the luscious depths of her eyes, he knew beyond a doubt that she'd meant the words for him. Him and no other. The knowledge sent more white-hot desire rocking through his body. At that moment, he felt more powerful than if he'd slain one thousand of his enemies.

  "Hell-oo," Faith sang. "Someone else is in the room."

  With much regret, he tore his gaze from the source of his arousal. Julia blinked rapidly, then shook her head. Her cheeks bloomed bright with color as she once again faced her sister. "Uh, yeah, you were saying?"

  A smile played at Faith's lips. "I doubt you're interested in a lost city. No, it's okay," she said when Julia protested. "I'd rather hear about you and Tristan, anyway. Where did you meet?"

  "At a flea market," Julia supplied. "We started talking, discovered we had a lot in common and became friends." The paper covering her food crackled as she folded back the corners. "That's the whole story."

  "I'm sure." Unconvinced, Faith regarded Tristan. "Do you collect antiques?"

  "Nay. Julia bought my box."

  "Ah, so you're a seller."

  "Nay, I am a—"

  "French fry, anyone?" Julia asked, cutting him off. Her panicked expression pleaded with him to remain silent. Tristan's stomach clenched. He did not like that she begged him, even silently. Did she fear her sister would steal his box if she knew the truth?

  Whatever her reasons, he pressed his lips tightly shut and said nothing more on the subject. "Jules, you're acting weird," Faith said pointedly. "No offense, but I've never seen you this flustered. What's going on?"

  "Nothing." Eyes wide, Julia stuffed her mouth full of food.

  Faith glanced between Tristan and Julia once, twice. "You're hiding something, Jules. I can tell. You can't even look at me without trembling."

  Julia swallowed and said, "I'm not in any kind of trouble, if that's what you're thinking. I promise."

  "Oh, really." Disbelief echoed in every syllable Faith uttered. "Well, something is going on here, and I want to know what."

  "Tristan has been taking care of me, that's all. I've just been… sick." Sick in the head, she thought wryly, for offering room and board to a pleasure slave.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah, I'm fine. There's no need for you to worry."

  "I can't help it. You're my sister, and I—Holy shit." Faith clasped her hands over her mouth, practically radiating giddy excitement. "You're pregnant, aren't you?"

  Julia began to choke, a piece of burger lodged in her throat. Tristan pounded her on the back, dislodging the morsel.

  "Cease your questions, woman," he ordered. "You are upsetting Julia."

  "I can't believe this." Disregarding Tristan's command, Faith continued on with a jubilant smile. "You're having a baby. Why didn't you tell me? Did you think I'd be upset because you're not married? Well, I'm not. Oh, this is wonderful. I'm going to be an aunt. When is the baby due? Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

  Tristan pounded his fist against the table. "Enough!" Both women jumped at the harshness of his tone.

  "Such questions are ridiculous. There is no child."

  "That's right. As I mentioned, Tristan and I are merely friends. I'm not pregnant, but I am dating my next-door neighbor." Why start telling the truth now? She'd lied to her sister about everything else today.

  Faith blinked, confused. "I thought you were living with Tristan."

  "I am." Silence stretched throughout the room.

  "I see," Faith finally said, her eyes glazed with disappointment, and it was clear she didn't «see» anything.

  "Even though you said you two weren't romantically involved, I simply assumed… " She frowned. "You two seem perfect for each other, that's all."

  Julia's sibling was a woman of great wisdom, Tristan decided.

  "Peter and I haven't dated officially yet," Julia said, offering a bit of the truth, "but it's just a matter of time."

  "So this Peter hasn't asked you out?"

  Defensive, Julia straightened her back. "Some men like a woman to take the initiative."

  "No one I'd want to date," Faith muttered under her breath. Then a calculated gleam lit her eyes and she said, "Why don't you ask Peter to dinner on Saturday? That way, Tristan and I can double with you."

  "Oh, aye." Tristan nodded. "This is an event I care not to miss."

  Julia shook her head emphatically. "No, I—"

  "I'm so glad everyone's in agreement." Effectively ending the conversation, Faith pushed to her feet.

  "Well, it's time for me to head home. I need my beauty sleep, you know. See you Saturday, Jules. Will you walk me out, Tristan?"

  He didn't hesitate. "Of course."

  "Of course?" Julia said, a hint of dismay in her tone. "But, Tristan. I'll be here alone. Alone and unprotected."

  "If anyone attempts to hurt you, simply use your karate," Tristan said over his shoulder, then strode out the front door behind Faith. He grinned; he just couldn't help it. What a sweet, sweet day this had become.

  Outside, Faith stopped midway to her car and spun to face him, hands on hips. "I
think I've figured out what's going on. It's obvious Jules likes you. My guess is she doesn't think she's good enough for you. You don't think that, do you?"

  "Nay. I want her."

  She relaxed her soldierlike stance. "She's a beautiful, intelligent woman, but I've never been able to convince her of that fact. She's stubborn, you know, and has always avoided romance. Well," she corrected, "not always."

  "There is a story here. You will explain."

  Faith raised a brow at his commanding tone. "It's not my place to tell you. Ask Julia about her first date, and if she tells you… " She shrugged. "The sparks generating between the two of you almost set me on fire. Whoever this Peter guy is, he's not the man for my sister."

  Tristan definitely liked this woman.

  "On Saturday," she said. "I'll handle Peter. You just make sure Julia has the best night of her life. She deserves it."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Always Wear Clothing That Is Pleasing To Your Master. If She Despises Clothing, You Must Remain Naked

  Saturday morning dawned cold but beautiful. An early spring wind danced through the air and birds chirped merrily in the trees. Eager blossoms valiantly attempted to bud.

  Inside Julia's home, candles glowed with vanilla-scented flames. Freshly polished counters gleamed brightly in the kitchen. Warm, inviting air cloaked every room like an old, comforting blanket.

  Julia was ready to vomit.

  Coffee hadn't helped. Nothing helped.

  Yesterday she had finally worked up the courage to invite Peter to an early dinner. At first, he said no. So she offered to pay. Still he refused. Only the threat of her "brother's" fury had swayed him to, at last, agree. The hint of reluctance in his voice when he finally said yes—a strange squeak that clearly stated he did not wish to dine with her—had pounded against her pride.

  Was she that undesirable that she had to threaten a man to eat with her?

  "What are you going to wear?" her sister asked cheerfully. Faith had arrived only minutes ago to help her prepare for the "big day."

  "I don't know," she answered, "but I can't wear anything until I find my black shoes." Lips tight in a glower, she frantically searched through a sea of makeup on the counter, then a pile of clothes on the floor. Right now, she was wearing only her new matching bra and panties made of opalescent material that picked up different hues of light. The color reminded her of Tristan's eyes. "Have you seen them? I've looked everywhere. They have to be here."

  "Calm down, calm down." Faith's tone was reassuring, soothing, but did nothing to pierce Julia's shell of panic. "I'll find them."

  "He's supposed to be here in one hour and two minutes, and I can't find my shoes! I'm not dressed, and my hair looks like crap. Calm down? I don't think so!"

  Faith clasped her by the shoulders, forcing her to cease her frenzied search. "This is a date, Jules, not an execution. Take a deep breath. That's it. Now slowly release every molecule of air. Good girl."

  "What am I doing?" Julia rubbed at her temples, trying to ward off the oncoming ache. "Dating is stupid. Men are stupid. I shouldn't be doing this. Why am I doing this?"

  "Because you're searching for a man to share your life with."

  "Oh, God." The enormity of the situation hit her all at once. Eyes wide, Julia ran to the bathroom, both hands covering her mouth. At the toilet, she hunched over and emptied out the contents of her stomach. Faith stood behind her in the next instant, holding her hair out of the way.

  Why was she putting herself through this?

  Julia hated the fact that her sister and Tristan were tagging along. The lucky couple would get to witness every faux pas she committed. So easily she pictured herself spilling vegetable soup down her dress, getting spinach stuck between her teeth and toilet paper attaching itself to her shoe—not her black shoes, though, because she didn't know where the hell they were.

  With her eyes closed, she rubbed her temple. Even though Tristan had helped her learn to flirt, she wasn't sure she really knew what to do or say to a man. All morning her old insecurities had beat against her resolve, and now they fought for complete domination. She was going to make a fool of herself; she just knew it. Surprisingly the thought of her foolishness didn't bother her as much as the thought of Faith and Tristan becoming romantically involved. They were both so beautiful, so perfect together, and on this stupid, stupid, stupid double date, they might just realize that fact.

  Julia hated the jealousy she was now feeling for her older, gorgeously put-together sister, the woman who had practically raised her, but she had no control over her emotions where Tristan was concerned.

  Drained of confidence and strength, she collapsed against the cool tile at her feet. She clutched her knees to her stomach and blinked up at Faith. "I can't do this. I can't. I'm not even sure I like Puny Peter," she admitted.

  "Puny Peter?"

  "That's what Tristan calls him."

  Wry amusement gleamed in Faith's eyes. "I wonder why."

  "Tristan's just—he's—I don't know," she ended lamely.

  "Jealous?"

  "No."

  "Protective?"

  "Absolutely." She sank deeper onto the floor. "And because of that, he and Peter do not get along well."

  "Okay, then. Call Peter and tell him you can't make it. That way, you and Tristan can spend the evening here and explore this protective side of his."

  Moaning, she let her head sink into her hands. Did she really want to give up, to admit defeat before the date even began? She just didn't know. If only she were remotely attracted to Peter, the date might seem easier to bear. But noooo, she had to lust after a man who would cause supermodels to drool over his beauty.

  "No," she finally told her sister. "I'm okay. I want to do this. I need to do this."

  "All right." Faith handed her a cool, wet towel. "Pull yourself together, and we'll do a total makeover."

  Julia used the cloth to wipe her mouth, then pushed to her feet. Her knees were wobbly at first, so she leaned against the sink for balance. Once steady, she brushed her teeth and splashed cold water on her face.

  "Come on," Faith said when she finished. "You need to get dressed."

  "Not until I find my shoes." Finding those damn black heels had suddenly become her biggest goal in life.

  "They're around here somewhere. Don't panic. We'll find them." Together they searched for the missing items and ten minutes later Faith found them stuffed inside the dirty clothes hamper. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  "How did they get in there?" Faith asked, holding them up between pinched fingers.

  "I must have been distracted," Julia admitted, "because I can't remember."

  Now that her shoes were in her sights, she concentrated on clothing. Unfortunately, she'd never modeled her new outfits for Tristan, so she had no idea what would actually look good. She gave it a shot, anyway.

  "I thought I'd wear this." She waved her hand over a fuzzy pink sweater and long floral-print skirt. With a grimace, Faith shook her head.

  "This is a date, Jules. Don't scare the man away by pretending to be a stick of cotton candy. Where did you get that thing, anyway?"

  "Tristan picked it out."

  Her sister rolled her eyes. "I swear, if it looks edible, men are going to buy it."

  "God, I need a glass of wine," Julia lamented. "The stress of this day is about to kill me."

  "Drink the whole bottle. I'll find an outfit Tristan—and Peter, of course—will drool over."

  "What would I do without you, Faithie?"

  "Walk around like a vomiting stick of cotton candy, that's what."

  Clothed only in his white cotton briefs, Peter Gallow flexed what little biceps he had in front of the full-length mirror hanging on his bedroom wall. A perfect frame for his art-deco and black-wire lamps.

  "I am a man. A tiger," he told his reflection.

  His date with Julia was scheduled to begin soon. Since she'd first called and asked him to have dinner with her—and he'd a
ccepted—his nervous system had kicked into high gear. Unfortunately, he now had hives on his stomach. He'd never been very good with women and didn't have much practice. His nerves kept him from acting out his desires.

  He liked Julia, though. She made him feel comfortable.

  Her brother scared the hell out of him.

  When he'd first moved into the house beside Julia's, he'd hardly noticed her. But each morning as he prepared his plants for summer's harsh rays, he would see her leave for work, and each evening as he fertilized and weeded his garden, he would see her return, and each time he saw her, he became more attracted to her. He wasn't sure how it was possible, but she'd become prettier and prettier until her image constantly filled his mind.

  Little things about her appealed to him. The vivacious sparkle in her eyes. The way her hair curled at the ends. The delicacy of her wrists. He'd wanted to go over and talk with her so many times and, in fact, had almost worked up the courage once or twice. Yet he always lost his bravado when he reached her house, and he would race home.

  Then he'd seen her hiding behind her bushes, as nervous as he was, and he decided to go for it. And almost been murdered in the process by her brother. Peter didn't consider himself a strong man—or at least, he didn't consider himself a strong man yet. By reading self-help books, he was becoming a more assertive man.

  When Julia had asked him out, he'd been stunned. And terrified. Very, very terrified. Not only because he'd been on so few dates in his lifetime, but because angering Tristan could mean Peter's death. He'd never seen an expression quite so fierce, or a man quite so intimidating. Tristan obviously loved his sister, and like any devoted brother, would protect her and crush anyone who hurt her.

  But today, Peter would have her all to himself. And he would make sure he didn't do anything she could tell Tristan about that would send the giant hulk into a rage. Then he thought, So what if I act ungentlemanly? What's Tristan gonna do?

  "If Tristan gives me any crap, I'll squash him like a bug." He flexed again.