by Rachel Lyndhurst; Carmen Falcone; Ros Clarke; Annie Seaton; Christine Bell
He sat there, debating how to handle this one. He cared about Lindy and clearly the game was important to her. But, shit, he did not want to do this. He steeled himself. “When I was nine, I broke the basket off Mary Callahan’s bike. I glued it on, and it fell off the next day. I never confessed.”
Lindy smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it. Whatever she’d been hoping for, it wasn’t that. Before he could call a halt to their game and suggest something less bloody awful, she rolled.
“Red,” she said, sending him a coy look under her lashes.
Thank God. He selected a card and read. “Pretend you’re at a swanky strip club and give your opponent a sexy striptease.” Jackpot. Surely that would break the weird tension between them and get a whole new kind of tension brewing.
He picked up the tray and set it on the nightstand, before propping up the pillows and settling back onto the bed.
“What kind of music would you like?” he asked. Her eyes were wide and she fidgeted with her wedding band. He wondered briefly if she’d back out, but she raised her chin and sent him a saucy grin.
“Big band, maybe?”
The vice that had gripped his chest loosened. He’d thought it was over. That she was going to try to push him somewhere he wasn’t going to go. But here she was, his take-no-prisoners Lindy. His for now, at least.
He picked up the stereo remote and flipped through until he found a classic R&B station. Strains of Otis Redding poured from the surround sound speakers.
She climbed off the edge of the bed and made her way around to his side. Her hips swayed as she moved, keeping sensual time with her steps. The girl had moves. She held his gaze and lifted an elegant hand to her neck, trailing it slowly, so slowly, down. Tracing her delicate collarbone, slipping into the gentle valley of her cleavage. She ran her thumb over her nipple, drawing it to a stiff peak. His breath caught in his throat.
She twisted, gyrated, swiveled, and shook. The whole time, he was enthralled. No strip club in the world ever had it so good. She turned away and bent low, peering at him from the V between her thighs. Laying her palms on her ass cheeks, she gave a squeeze just like he wanted so badly to do. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he tugged at the neck of his T-shirt.
She turned back to face him and reached for the hem of her nightie. “You ready, Irish?” she whispered.
“Hell, yes.” His body was jacked and primed to blow. He didn’t take his eyes off her as she tugged the silk up to reveal her stomach and those beautiful breasts. She tossed the nightgown aside and moved to crawl on top of him.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he rasped.
She paused, and he slipped a finger under the elastic of her panties. “Boy, you’re greedy, aren’t you?”
He didn’t answer with words, opting instead to close his fist around the scrap of satin and doing what he’d wanted to do earlier that week. They snapped off in his hands and she gasped. He didn’t wait for her to catch her breath. He spanned her waist and dragged her on top of him. Her body molded instantly to his, her soft parts lining up with his hard ones, her slick center pressing against his swollen shaft. Thank God she was as turned on as he was. He wanted her now, hard and dirty.
“Umm,” she moaned, bending to pepper his jaw and neck with sucking kisses, wriggling her hips to get closer, to take him into her heat.
“Condom,” he groaned.
“I’m on the Pill, if you want to—”
“Oh, fuck yeah, I want to.” The fact that she trusted that he would never endanger her sent a primal sense of pride coursing through him.
He rolled her onto her back in one fluid motion, spreading her knees with his. He slipped a hand between them to ready her, but she shoved it aside.
“Inside me. Now,” she said, wrapping her fingers around his length, working him against the sensitive knot between her thighs.
He reared back and thrust forward. He groaned her name, sinking, unfettered, deep into that tight, gripping channel. She arched against him and held him close.
The second she released him he moved, sliding into her decadent heat and retreating, the sensual drag of tender flesh obliterating what remained of his composure. He pounded into her, his hips moving like pistons driving them to the brink.
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” she chanted, her head tossing back and forth on the pillow. The storm broke and she let out a wail, her body sucking at his, pulling him over with her. His whole body quaked and he followed her over the edge.
He slumped forward, burying his face in the sweet skin of her neck. “Amazing,” he whispered.
He probably should’ve kept that to himself, but it was the truth. He rolled to his side, pulling her with him. Nestling her into the crook of his arm, he wondered how he was going to go back to his regularly scheduled life.
A life without any amazing in it at all.
…
Lindy stirred as a chill passed over her. She burrowed deeper into the warmth of Owen’s shoulder and listened to his even breath. Damn, she would miss this. The game had almost been a major failure, but she’d pulled it out in the end. Maybe he hadn’t told her he loved her, but she could see it in his eyes. If only they had more time. Time so he could realize what she already knew.
The emotion welled up inside her and couldn’t be contained. “I love you,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “I love you so much.”
Owen stiffened and his breath halted. She froze, afraid to speak in case she was wrong. Maybe he was just shifting in his sleep. But his muscles tensed more with each passing second, as if he couldn’t wait to move. She swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat. “Y-you’re awake?”
“I am.” His tone was clipped, and he tugged his arm from beneath her head to sit up, pulling away from her. Her stomach clenched. The disappointment was crushing even though she’d known this moment would come. She’d hoped for a little longer, but she’d brought it to a premature end with her careless words. The fat lady was warming up, and there was nothing Lindy could do to stop her. She’d never known such helplessness.
“Lindy,” he said, but paused when she shot to her feet.
He could ruin what they had if he chose, but she wasn’t about to listen to some lecture about how he was right for doing it. “I know you don’t want to hear it. I thought you were asleep, but really, it doesn’t change anything.”
“Dammit, Lindy, it changes everything. Everything.”
She searched his stormy face and wished to God his eyes would clear. That he’d stop looking at her as if he’d never seen her before. “No. Said or unsaid, I love you just the same, and I’m not sorry.” Her voice trembled but she held her ground.
“I am.”
The two words cut through her, hard and deep, and she couldn’t keep the sob from breaking free. “Please, don’t say that.”
He shot to his feet and faced her, arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t lay the blame for this at my feet. I never asked for your love. Do you know, my mother’s face lit up like an asteroid shooting through the sky every time my old man walked into a room? And when he walked out for the last time, it killed her.”
His jaw was tight, his eyes cold. Two pieces of flint, stark against his skin. He spoke in a monotone, his voice giving away no sign of his inner turmoil. But she knew this man now and knew his pain as well as if it were her own. Her anger drained away in one fell swoop, and hot tears filled her eyes. She blinked hard to ward them off.
“It was a slow process. Took a few years. Hundreds of days filled with debilitating depression, insomnia because every time she fell asleep she dreamed he was back. And every time she woke, she had to relive it all over again. I was there trying to pick up the pieces. Makes you grow up fast…see things clearly. Eventually, her body broke down, little by little, and one day she was gone. I was fifteen.” He shook his head, the finality in his tone like a knife to her heart. “I’ll never let someone have that kind of power over me.”
“Ow
en, please—” She stood and stepped toward him, but he held up a staying hand.
“I can’t be what you want me to be. I don’t have it in me.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” she protested. “Depression is a disease. She should have gotten help. He was wrong for leaving you there with her in that condition. But love, true love, can be so beautiful.”
“How would you know?”
“My parents had it. I’ve seen it.”
“Once? I’ve watched it fail a thousand times. Look at Cara. Hell, look around you. The couples here are a fucking mess. I should trust we’re going to be that one couple who makes it? My chances of getting struck by lightning are better.” His face was tight with grim resolve. “I never lied to you, Lindy. You knew we had no future, and you made your choice.”
Bitterness threatened to choke her, and she nodded, the anger rising again. “You’re absolutely right. And you’ve made yours.” She rose to her feet and strode toward the bathroom, desperate to keep it together for one more minute. “It’s funny, I used to agree with you and think of myself as a chicken because everything scares me. I’m afraid of airplanes and chairlifts and skiing, and yeah, I’m even afraid of falling in love. But you know what? I do all of it in spite of my fear. And that? That makes me braver than you.”
She didn’t wait for a response before closing the bathroom door in his face.
Chapter Eighteen
Owen stared at the amber liquid in his glass. It was a sad day indeed when even Tullamore Dew tasted like piss.
“Howdy there, O’Neil!” Calvin Cedarhurst boomed, giving him a hearty slap on the back. “Where you been?”
He’d spent the past eighteen hours at Cara’s hotel while Lindy told everyone he was nursing a pulled muscle. Once he and Lindy had it out the night before, he thought it best for them to both get some space. Cara had been happy for the face-to-face update and the company. She’d known something was bothering him, but hadn’t pressed, and for that he was grateful.
He chose to ignore Cedarhurst’s question and settled on a nod and a terse greeting. “Hello, Calvin.” Owen didn’t look up, hoping maybe he would recognize a man not in the mood for chatter. Fat chance.
“Back my friend here up with another, and I’ll take one of whatever he’s having.” He lumbered over to the stool closest to Owen and hauled himself onto it with a wheeze. “I need a man-sized chair, you know what I mean? They make ’em bigger in Texas.” He chuckled at his own joke, but stopped when Owen didn’t join him. “Awful quiet there, son. Lady giving you grief?”
He shrugged and slugged back another swallow of scotch as Lindy’s words replayed in his mind. Said or unsaid, I love you just the same. And what had her honesty gotten her? Heartache, like love always did.
His own heart gave a hollow thump, and he set his drink on the bar. At least it would all be over soon. Gavin had called him that morning to let him know he’d received the package. Owen expected a call in the next couple hours that would hopefully help him bring Nico’s scheme tumbling down. Cara was on standby ready to come when the police were called.
He glanced at his watch and let out an exasperated sigh. He barely had patience for the windbag on a good day, and today definitely did not qualify. “This place isn’t exactly my cup of tea. I’m looking forward to going back to Long Island.”
“Up until last night, I would’ve agreed with you, partner. Bitsy and me have been getting along worse than usual.”
Something in his tone caught Owen’s attention, and he looked up. In spite of his words, Cedarhurst looked pleased as a pigeon. He leaned toward Owen, modulating his voice down to what he clearly considered a whisper.
“You want to blow off some steam, do yourself a favor and sign up for the ‘me-time meditation session.’” He winked one beady eye and licked his fleshy lips.
Owen swallowed his revulsion, faking a casual grin. “Oh yeah? Relaxing, was it?”
“Not at first, but I was really relaxed when it was over, if you know what I mean.”
There was no mistaking him now, and all of Owen’s senses stood at attention. “Who was your instructor?”
“Liza.”
Adrenaline blasted through him as another piece of the puzzle slipped into place. She was a major player in whatever this scheme was, and seduction was her specialty. But what was the end game? Time to put the screws to Gavin and get an answer. Now. “I’m going to have take a rain check on that drink.” He clapped Cedarhurst on the shoulder a little harder than was warranted and stood. “I think I’ll go make that appointment right now. I’m feeling a little tense.”
The other man’s belly jiggled with laughter. “Guy’s gotta have his priorities. You enjoy yourself, son.”
He bit back a snarl and resisted the urge to deck the fucker. Sadness for sweet Bitsy Cedarhurst swamped him. Not only had her husband cheated on her, he’d added insult to injury by bragging about it to a near stranger. But he couldn’t think about what that philandering scum had done. It was all about Cara right now, and Cedarhurst’s admission had put a nail in Nico’s proverbial coffin.
He slapped on a smile. “I plan on it.” That was no lie. Busting Nico was going to be loads of fun. He took the stairs two at a time and barreled into the room.
“Lindy?” he called. No response. He took a quick look around, but she was gone. Disappointment warred with relief. He wanted to share what he’d learned about Liza, but he wasn’t ready to face her again. His emotions were all over the place, and the heavy sadness he’d felt since he’d walked out might cause him to do something he’d regret. He needed time away from her, and soon enough he’d be back to his former self. Alone and liking it.
He rifled through his briefcase in search of his cell, but it was nowhere to be found. A low hum from the corner of the room caught his attention. His phone sat on the bedside table, and he had an incoming text. He crossed the room and snatched it up. Gavin.
This no phone thing is bs. Call me asap.
He hit the call back button and Gavin picked up. “About time.”
Owen frowned. “You texted two seconds ago. How much quicker could I have been?”
“I’ve been trying to get you for hours.”
“Hang on.” Owen pulled the phone from his face and peered down. Only one unread text. A feeling of dread unfurled in his belly. It was from Lindy. This one hit him like a blow to the gut.
Ur phone was going nuts. Was worried there was an emergency & saw the text from Gavin. I think I figured the rest out. Out w/Nico and hope to return w/proof.
–L
He scrolled to the earliest text from Gavin, hoping to get some context.
Got the scoop on ur phony Liza Ingram. Verrry interesting. What kinda shit r u involved in over there that has u mixed up w/a Vegas prostitute? Call me.
Another nail in the coffin for Stephanopoulos. Everything was falling neatly into place. Soon enough, Nico would be neatly entrapped. Only one problem. There were few things more dangerous than a cornered animal. He made a split decision and picked up the phone.
“Cara, can you come now? I need you to help me find Lindy.”
…
She stood outside Nico’s office door and knocked tentatively. No one answered, but then, she hadn’t expected anyone to. She’d left Nico right outside his bedroom door not ten minutes before. She glanced around again, then slid the key into the lock. The resulting snick seemed so loud in the deserted corridor, she winced. But it had worked.
When she’d first seen the key, she hadn’t been sure it would. The lodge, although opulent, had a lot of rustic touches, and the heavy oak doors with the old fashioned locks had been one of them. When she’d spied the key on Sarabeth’s desk the morning before, she knew she’d filch it if she got the opportunity. When she saw Gavin’s text, she’d stopped waiting and had made the opportunity. After her fight with Owen, getting this thing done and over with was crucial. She needed to get the hell away from him before she humiliated herself mo
re than she already had. Then, surrounded by her puppies and Melba and her silly brothers, she’d weep her eyes out for the next month or so like a girl in unrequited love was supposed to.
She slipped the key in her pocket, tamping down the guilt that had nagged her over her method of acquiring it. She only hoped Sarabeth would forgive her if she ever found out. With one last glance up and down the hallway, she slipped inside and closed the door softly behind her. The moon was bright, and a large window let in enough light to make the flashlight in her pocket unnecessary.
She peered around the room, taking in its contents. A giant walnut desk took up a large section of the room, but she wasn’t interested in that. What held her attention was the bay of monitors against the far wall. Her heart hammered, and she moved closer. She’d always thought it was strange that Nico had never invited her in, always choosing instead to stand outside the door until she left. When she approached the monitors, it no longer seemed strange.
The ballroom dance studio lit one of the screens. Empty and cast in shadows, it seemed innocuous enough. But another feed, this one of the massage room, filled her with cold dread. She’d been in that room, almost nude. Six screens in all, each broadcasting the goings on in all of the private rooms of the lodge. Playing a hunch, she hit the rewind button on one featuring the meditation room. Two minutes later, she watched a playback of Liza, urging Owen to lie back. To relax, let her—
The door swung open, and Lindy jerked her hand away with a gasp.
“Nico, I was hoping I’d find you.”
“Let me guess. The door was open, and you thought you’d take a look around?”
“Y-yes. I was just about to leave when I saw you weren’t in here.”
His icy smile didn’t reach his eyes, and she knew she was busted. Of course he hadn’t believed her. Who can sniff out a charlatan better than another charlatan?
“Riiight. So you didn’t happen to see these, I’m sure.” He gestured to the televisions with his gun-wielding hand.
Gun.
Her heart pounded, and her vision blurred. Shit, think, Lindy, think! “I don’t care about any of this,” she said coldly, hoping he didn’t hear the tremor in her voice. “I want to know if my bastard husband is cheating on me again.”
