by Alyssa Kress
"I happen to know the best place to see the thing." The lights above them shadowed the smiling crescent in one of his cheeks.
"Do you now?" Valerie tilted her head and smiled back at him, looking vaguely standoffish — she hoped. She wasn't feeling standoffish. In fact, she wanted more: more time, more sensation, just...more.
"The pool deck at the Paris hotel." Roy waved his hand in that direction. "It's the very best view."
And at night it would be deserted. For the first time all evening they'd be truly alone together. Valerie was stunned by her yearning to make it so. Did she want to sleep with him? Or did she simply want to prolong the possibility?
His eyes studied her carefully in the artificial half-light. "You'll be safe there," he said at last. "I told you I wouldn't come on to you, and I won't."
Oh...yes. That meant she wouldn't have to make a decision. She wouldn't — yet — have to give up this lovely dream.
"Okay." Her voice sounded very soft. "I'd like to see the fountains from the pool deck of the Paris hotel with you."
He took her hand, the way he'd been doing all night.
Valerie didn't add that the Paris hotel was where she had her room.
Now was that self-defense or self-destruct? She wasn't quite sure.
~~~
He said he wasn't going to come on to her, but he hadn't promised. That was Roy's escape hatch.
Not that he needed one, Roy assured himself as he led Valerie onto the deserted pool deck of the Paris Hotel. He wasn't going to seduce her. It would be a bad idea for about a thousand different reasons. Besides, she trusted him. He didn't want to betray that.
Hand-in-hand, Roy led Valerie to the edge of the deck that overlooked the street and, beyond that, the famous lagoon of the Bellagio hotel. They came to a stop by the guardrail.
Feeling like he deserved something for his self-sacrifice, Roy let go of Valerie's hand to slip his arm around her waist.
She stiffened momentarily, then seemed to make an effort to relax. "I think we're a little early."
"I guess. Do you mind waiting outside?"
She turned her face up. "No."
Her eyes were like deep, dark wells, quietly dangerous. No way to get out if you fell in. Roy felt like he was leaning too far over the edge. Off balance. Her body felt soft and delicate against the curve of his arm. Her trustfulness was the sweetest thing he'd ever experienced.
"It's cold," he said, an excuse to draw her closer.
"It's not so bad," she replied, but accepted the increased proximity and looked directly into his eyes.
He was falling, going over the edge. Scrambling for something to keep him grounded, he asked, "Why become a doctor?"
Her sober expression turned into a laugh. "Of all things. Do you really want to know?"
He kept his firm hold on her. The gas pedal and the brakes. "I asked, didn't I?"
Her eyes crinkled. "No. You go first this time. Why a card player?"
"Poker," Roy corrected.
She lifted her brows.
"Card games are one thing," Roy explained. "Poker is something else again."
"I hadn't realized."
"'S true." Roy gestured with his free hand. "Everything in life has two parts: a probability of happening and a value to that happening, how good or bad it is." Roy lowered his hand and shrugged. "That's how life works, and so does poker."
She looked at him the way most non-poker players did when he tried to explain: half amused and half understanding. "So you like poker because it resembles life."
"Exactly. You can figure it out, but only to a point. Probability doesn't mean definite. When you come right down to it, anything can happen."
The amusement half of her expression began to fade. "Yes," she said. "I think I know what you mean."
The look on her face was giving Roy too much of the gas pedal, so he prompted, "You were going to tell me about the doctor thing."
"Oh." Her lips twisted. "That's easy to explain. I did it to satisfy my parents."
He laughed.
"Pathetic, huh?" She grinned. "They're both doctors so it was expected I follow in the parental footsteps."
He looked at her. "Bull."
Her eyes widened.
Unable to resist, he tightened his hold on her. "Maybe it started out that way, to please your parents, but that's not the way it is now."
She stared at him. "How do you know that?"
Amusement and affection stirred in him. "I may not have gone to college, but I know what it takes to become a doctor. Too much work just to please somebody else. If you got through it, it's because the motivation was inside you."
Her expression showed her acknowledgment he was right. Maybe even gratitude that he understood.
After spending the past four hours with her, he thought he understood even more. "And besides," he added, "you like helping people."
Her eyes widened again.
"Don't you?"
"Well...there is a certain satisfaction when you know the answer and it makes everything all better. But — " She frowned.
"But — ?"
"But there's the other side of that equation." She sucked in her lips. "There are times when you know exactly what's wrong, but there isn't a damn thing you can do to make it better."
Roy's smile faded. He felt a pull toward her that had nothing to do with the arm he had around her waist. Could a person truly be this sweet and decent and caring? Meanwhile, she was so close, so warm, and her eyes so inviting.
His free hand lifted. Tremblingly, he laid his fingertips against her cheek. "Valerie."
She stood very still. As she gazed at him, her eyes softened. "Yes, Roy?"
The mysterious pull deepened. Roy's fingers straightened so that his palm touched the cool flesh of her cheek. "I think I'm going to die if I don't kiss you," he whispered.
She gave him a shaky smile. "You'll die?"
A groan lurched out of him. "I'm pretty sure, yeah." In that moment it felt like it was true.
"Well," she breathed. "In that case..."
It was a lucky thing she agreed, because he was already leaning forward. His lips settled firmly on hers.
It was like the assuagement of some pain: relief, comfort, pleasure.
She trembled against him, as though she were feeling the very same thing, and fisted her hands in his sweater.
Roy moaned and pressed closer. Power and powerlessness. He'd never felt the two sensations at the same time. He was definitely in the driver's seat here, the guy calling the shots, but her sweet, tentative response made his brain spin.
"More," he murmured against her lips. "Just a little bit more." Some remote part of his mind remembered he wasn't supposed to be coming on to her. Meanwhile his hands locked on her back, holding her close while the universe spun on its axis.
For Roy the abstract world had always been part and parcel with the physical world. Numbers and the games they could play looked like physical blocks and waves and patterns in his mind.
Now on the pool deck of Paris, he felt the abstract world of thought and emotion meld with the physical world of flesh and sensation. His mouth on hers was a physical manifestation of the desire he'd had all evening to find whatever was inside of her that spoke so to him. When his hand went under the hem of her shirt, it was only to pursue the closure of their souls. There was no low or base motivation; it was simply part of the whole, necessary thing.
Closer, closer still, his fingers stretched over her breast. His gut clenched at the scratchy promise of the lace on her bra, at the catch of her breath, at the beckoning light of closer, and yet closer —
She gasped and brought her hands down abruptly. Her elbow dislodged his hand from its happy spot on her breast.
It felt as if someone pulled a plug, disorienting Roy. "I'm sorry," he said, automatically. Somehow he'd misstepped, even in the midst of all that wonder.
"No, no. It's just..." She heaved a sigh and laid her forehead against his chest.
"I realized as soon as we walked out here, we have quite an audience."
"Huh?" In reflex Roy looked up, and saw she was exactly right. Two sides of the hotel tower, punched with windows, looked down at their position on the pool deck. Wry laughter rumbled in his chest. "I see your point."
Damn. He was painfully in want of her. He needed to touch, to explore, to fall in. Hell. The words were on his tongue, a suggestion to go back with him to his rooms at the Mandalay.
But he couldn't do it. He'd promised he wasn't going to come on to her. If he went back on that and talked her into anything, she'd probably agree, and tomorrow morning they'd both feel like hell.
He didn't want to make her feel like hell. His hand smoothed over her hair. Goodbye. He had to say it.
Goodbye. Before he ruined it all.
"Roy?" She interrupted his intention with a choked voice.
He stopped.
Her gaze rose to his. In a soft voice, she claimed, "I think I'm going to die if you don't kiss me."
His hand froze on her head. "But...our audience."
Her palms pressed against his chest. "My room is on the fifteenth floor. It looks down on the pool deck, actually."
Roy was sure his heart stopped beating then. She was asking him up to her room. She was suggesting it, for him to be with her, to do this.
Well! She was asking... That made all the difference in the world! His fingers tangled in her hair. If she was doing the asking, he wasn't going back on his word. There would be no regrets or repercussions.
His body began to hum again. Blood tingled in all extremities. And something else, some deeper, less defined part of him, poised for fulfillment.
"Is that...? Do you want to come up?" Her voice cracked.
A short laugh escaped him. He set his hands on either side of her face and looked down into her anxious eyes. "Yes," he said, his own voice unexpectedly hoarse. "Yes, I want to come up." He paused, feeling the want, the desire rise up in him like a tidal wave. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you."
CHAPTER THREE
Thank you, he'd said. So earnestly. Valerie closed her eyes as they went up in the elevator, standing together with his arm around her waist. Well he should thank her. She couldn't believe she'd asked him up to her room. She'd basically asked him to have sex with her!
Was she insane?
She forced her eyes open again. He could probably feel her trembling, but she couldn't have said if she felt more nervous — or aroused. The sensations that had coursed through her out there on the pool deck...like sunlight seeping into her soul. And when he'd kissed her —
Valerie released a shuddering sigh. His kiss had been the stuff of dreams.
This was not a man who would be selfish or awkward in a physical situation. This was...a sorcerer.
The elevator began to slow. Valerie saw the indicator light hit fifteen, her floor.
Her shaking got worse. He was coming to her hotel room. She'd never done anything like this, treated sex as casual.
But God help her, she wanted him kissing her again, she wanted his hands all over her, leaving those sensations of amazement in their wake. His hands made her feel beautiful, desirable, like a femme fatale.
Couldn't she, for that, lose her scruples?
The elevator doors jerked, then slid open. Roy tightened his hold on her as they walked out of the elevator. The action made Valerie's eyebrows rise. Was he afraid she was going to bolt?
He could be right.
"What's your room number?" he asked.
"Oh." Valerie cleared her throat. "Fifteen-ten, I think. Let me check." With her free arm she lifted her purse. But to look inside, she needed the hand that was pinned against Roy's body.
He seemed to understand the problem. He reached his free hand across to dig into her purse. The action was unexpectedly intimate. And efficient. He pulled out the card-holder they'd handed her at the front desk.
"Room fifteen ten," he said, reading the handwritten scribble on the front of the brochure. He held it out so she could work the key card from its cut-out in front. "Didn't they tell you to keep your key separate from your room number?" His tone was warmly amused.
"Oh, they might have." Valerie watched as he dropped the brochure back into her purse and then plucked the key card from her fingers.
"And you, of course, paid attention. Fifteen ten is to the left."
"How do you know?"
"I've stayed in all of these hotels."
"Oh." Apparently he hadn't been kidding about having no home of his own. Meanwhile, he shifted his hold from her waist to her elbow, the better to lead her along.
Valerie's knees felt weak. He was so strong beside her, smelling faintly of man. When she ventured to glance at him, she had a sense of unreality. Was this going to be with her intimately? All this incredible virility? It didn't seem possible.
It also didn't seem intelligent.
But before she knew it they were standing in front of her hotel room. He unlocked the door and pushed it open.
Valerie's heart beat like a hammer.
He waltzed right into the room, drawing her after him. The possessive action made her realize there were some matters she ought to nail down. Non-negotiables.
"Roy," she squeaked.
He turned to walk backward, with both of her hands in his. "Yes, Valerie."
"There are — " She stopped to clear her throat. "I mean, we have to talk about..."
He tilted his head, questioning.
For the life of her, she couldn't make herself go on. It was just too...bald.
His head straightened and he smiled as if there'd been no interruption. The door closed on its automatic damper behind them as he drew her down the hall and into the main part of the room. Valerie saw the king-size bed, with its elegant, sunshine-and-white spread, but he tugged her past that to the window, the one above the pool deck.
"Look," he said, and laughed softly. "We've got a chance at our show, after all."
"What?" Buoyed by his conversational tone, Valerie looked out the window. Sure enough, colored lights played on the slender sprays of water shooting up from the Bellagio lagoon. "Oh," she said, and laughed a little. "What do you know?"
He firmed his grip on her hand. "Now, what did you want to talk about?"
Her heart took a big thump. He hadn't forgotten her little squawk. "Uh..."
His head tilted again. Colors from the show across the street rainbowed across one side of his face. God, he was beautiful, and the way he was looking at her, like she was the most desirable thing in the world... It shattered her.
But if she was going to do this, she was going to be responsible about it. Valerie took a deep breath. "I knew what I was doing when I invited you up here, I'm not going to pretend otherwise. But I have to admit I'm hardly...prepared."
He stayed in his tilted-head position. "Do you mean you don't have any condoms?"
"Well, um..." Talk about being right up front. Valerie swallowed. "Yeah."
"I've taken care of it."
"Oh." He had? When? She didn't remember him ducking into a pharmacy. But maybe he carried a pack all the time, just in case, because for him jumping into bed with some stranger was not the least bit extraordinary.
He kept looking at her, serious, utterly manly. And completely out of her league.
Valerie swallowed again, painfully. She'd been living in a fantasy all evening, pretending she was important to him. In fact, she was only one among many. A man who looked like this — he could have any woman, any truly fascinating woman, he wanted.
"So it's okay." Roy's voice was soft. Using his hold on her hand, he drew her closer. "No problems."
Valerie wanted to laugh. No problems? She was only coming to terms with her own foolishness here. She hadn't been keeping fantasy separate from reality.
Roy turned her so she could look out the window. The fountains speared upward, synchronized. She watched them numbly as Roy took a stance behind her. He draped his arms over her
shoulders, gently leaning her back against his chest.
He felt solid as a rock. Not like Peter, or any of the other few men she'd had in her life. No, Valerie had never been with a man as sheerly masculine, as powerful, and — and — potent.
Nor had she been with a man as sensitive. He appeared to know all was not right with her. In a gesture of warm protectiveness, he smoothed his hands up and down her arms.
But she couldn't relax. Okay, so they had condoms; she was protected from pregnancy and disease. But what about her heart? She wasn't special to Roy, just a stop along the way. A crazy part of her wanted to be more than that. As if she even knew him well enough to sincerely wish such a thing.
"What is it?" His voice was thick. "What's wrong?"
Valerie's throat felt too tight to talk.
"Tell me." Roy's teeth nipped her neck, very gently.
Pleasure crackled through her. And yet — "I — There can't be a morning," Valerie blurted.
He halted, his face against her neck.
Valerie winced. There can't be a morning? Oh yeah, that was clear.
Meanwhile he straightened. Valerie composed herself as he took a step back and they faced each other.
His charcoal eyes regarded her with concern.
Valerie felt a flutter in her stomach. No, she really didn't want a 'morning after' with this man. He was so — desirable. She could become far too vulnerable. Fortunately, she'd thought of a way to prevent heartbreak.
"I don't want a morning after," she told him. "I want us to make a deal. Now."
"A deal?" Concern turned to confusion.
She swallowed. "I'm checking out of the hotel tomorrow anyway. So, whoever gets up first in the morning leaves. No waking the other person. No goodbyes. Nothing. A clean — that's all. It'll be clean."
His expression seemed to freeze. Though Valerie couldn't tell what he was thinking, she knew he would agree. He couldn't want the awkwardness of a morning after any more than she did — probably less. If they did what she suggested, they'd never have to face each other again.
