by JoAnn Ross
She felt so good. So right. Connor pressed a kiss against the pale blond crown of her head. “Of course.”
Later, Lily would look back and tell herself that his easy arrogance should have set off warning sirens. At the moment, however, she could only wonder how it was that his touch could make her feel comforted and excited all at the same time. “Where?”
“Where what?”
“Where is the job?”
“Oh.” How could she keep talking about work at a time like this? He let his lips wander down her neck. “Xanadu Studios.” Another half truth.
Momentarily surprised out of her lassitude, Lily looked up at him. “You’re kidding!”
“I never kid about my work.” That was mostly true.
It was difficult to think when he was looking at her that way. Was it her imagination, or were his eyes suddenly darker?
“Why didn’t you say anything when Eddie and Blythe were talking about Xanadu this afternoon at Flynn’s?”
Connor forced a shrug and tried to ignore the stab of guilt. “They were talking about how the sale of the studio was going to affect their scripts. Which really isn’t any of my business.”
Now that was a bald-faced lie. The first he’d told her. Unfortunately, Connor feared, hating this tangled web he’d woven for himself, not the last.
“What were you hired to do?”
“A little of this.” Trying to distract her, he ran the back of his hand up the side of her face. “A little of that.”
“When do you start?”
Although caution told him that he should watch his words carefully, Connor was finding it difficult to think when she felt so soft and warm in his arms. “Start what?”
She reminded him of a kitten. A sweet, very pregnant kitten. As he found himself wondering if it was even safe for them to make love, Connor wished he’d paid more attention to that sex education film Coach Rawlins had shown to his eighth grade health class.
“Work.” Did he realize what he was doing to her? Lily wondered. “When’s your first day at Xanadu?”
“Next month.”
“Next month? But why—”
“It’s simple,” he answered her question before she could complete it. “I returned to Los Angeles early because I wanted to see you again.”
Lily knew she was in deep, deep trouble when she found herself wanting desperately to believe him. “Are you always so impulsive?”
“Always.” Finally! The absolute truth. “Speaking of which—”
He lowered his head, surprising her when instead of seizing her mouth, his lips brushed along her jaw.
“Don’t.” Her faint protest was belied by the way she tilted her head, allowing him access to her neck.
“Don’t what?” More than willing to oblige, he skimmed his mouth down skin that was as silky as it was fragrant. “Don’t kiss you here?” His lips lingered at the drumming pulse beat in the hollow of her throat, drawing a shimmering sigh. “Or here?” Her chin. “How about here?”
The sizzling touch of his tongue at a heretofore undiscovered sensitive spot just behind her ear made her moan. “I don’t want a quick roll in the sheets with you, Mac.”
“Believe me, Lily,” he murmured as his lips moved on to her temple, “there will be nothing quick about it.”
Promise made, he touched his mouth to hers with a feathery lightness that took every last ounce of his self-control. Connor had been thinking about this kiss for hours. For days. Imagining it, dreaming of it, fantasizing about it, until it had nearly driven him over the edge.
A man accustomed to control in all aspects of his life, Connor was not all that wild about what Lily had done to his mind, not to mention his body. However, as a man who also knew the value of serendipity, he was not prepared to complain.
Especially not when she felt so damn good in his arms. So soft. So right.
From the hunger she’d witnessed in his midnight eyes, Lily had been expecting Mac’s mouth to be hard and greedy. But instead, the kiss she’d been secretly waiting for all night was as soft as dandelion fuzz, as delicate as drifting snowflakes. Having braced herself for power, she was helpless against such tenderness.
He didn’t push, or, as she might have expected, try to impress with clever technique. Instead, his mouth was warm and oh, so very giving.
Sighing softly, she surrendered to the sweet seduction of the kiss. Lifting her arms around his neck, Lily allowed her eyes to slowly drift shut. Her muscles relaxed. She leaned into him, amazed at how deftly he fitted her bulging shape to his hard male body.
Lord, she was even sweeter than he’d imagined. Softer than he’d dreamed. He placed one hand against her lower back, holding her against him while the other wove its way through the wealth of blond hair, gathering it into a knot at the nape of her neck.
His body throbbed painfully. Even as he felt an almost primal urge to savage, even as he was struck with the wild idea to drag her into the bedroom and spend the rest of the night making mad, passionate love to her, Connor managed to keep the pace unbearably slow.
His lips plucked at hers, his teeth nibbled from one corner of her mouth to the other. He nipped at her sensitive lower lip, causing a soft breath to escape. Fitting her closer yet, he soothed the reddened flesh with his tongue and drew a faint moan.
Lily had never known such liquid pleasure. Such torment. Silvery sensations swam through her bloodstream; her bones turned pliant, her head fell back, offering more.
“Open your eyes, Lily.” His mouth continued to play tantalizingly over hers. “I want you to look at me when I kiss you.”
He watched as, with obvious effort, she lifted her slumberous lids. Desire had turned her cornflower blue eyes to a hue as dark as a midnight sea. For a long, suspended time, they simply looked at each other—Connor gazing warmly down at her, Lily staring up at him.
Lily had never felt like this in her life. With only his lips, he’d managed to make her float. Indeed, her head felt so light and her bones were so pliant that she could no longer swear that her feet were firmly on the floor.
Lily knew she was on the brink of something dangerous. Something that would change her life—which had already suffered more than enough disruptions this year—yet again. The thought, while terrifyingly tempting, was not exactly a happy one.
Connor watched the emotions warring in those remarkable eyes and knew that she wasn’t ready. Not yet. Oh, he knew it wouldn’t take all that much to coax her into his bed. But then what?
Having already accepted the fact that Lily Van Cortlandt had infiltrated herself into a private corner of his heart he’d never even known existed, Connor was not all that surprised to discover that he wanted more. Much, much more.
Connor reluctantly eased away. “You really are so incredibly sweet,” he murmured.
Her heart was still thrumming too hard and too fast. Her head was spinning. But even with her senses battered, Lily knew it was important to stay calm. It was, after all, just a kiss.
But, dear Lord, what kiss!
“I told you I didn’t want this.”
His body was throbbing, practically screaming for relief. But Connor managed to find amusement in her remarkably cool tone. She may have been right off the farm when Junior Van Cortlandt had married her, but the lady had more class in her little finger than her husband, and his snobby parents, had in their entire bodies.
“Actually, if I remember correctly, what you said was, you didn’t want a quick roll in the sheets.” Because he could not be this close to Lily without touching her, he reached out and twined a gilt strand of hair around his finger.
“Don’t worry,” he said when she pulled away, “I’m not going to rush you into anything, Lily.”
Lily found the gentle affection sparkling in his eyes even more threatening than the earlier hunger. “I can’t figure out why you’re doing this. What you want from me.”
If it was simply sex he was seeking, Lily suspected there was a plethora of drop-dead
gorgeous women in Los Angeles who’d jump at a chance to go to bed with him. From the smiles Bobbie-Sue, Brenda and even Jill had been tossing his way earlier this evening, Lily knew of three women right here at Bachelor Arms who wouldn’t turn Mac away.
“What do I want?” He smiled, a slow, warm smile she sensed was mostly directed inward. Everything, he told himself. “I want to undress you, very, very slowly. Then I want you in my bed. All night long.”
“Dammit, Mac—”
“I want to touch you,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her faint protest. “Taste you. All over.” As if to emphasize his words, his gaze swept slowly over her. “I want to watch your eyes as I take you—take both of us—over the edge. Then I want to watch you when I do it all over again.”
And the fact that he wanted to do all that, and more, was the very reason why Connor had to give her time to adjust to the idea. To him.
A nagging little voice in the back of his mind told him that while he was on this honesty kick, it might be a good time to tell her the entire truth. About who he really was. And what he was doing in Los Angeles. He studied her obvious confusion, and her distress, and told himself that after all she’d been through these past days, it wouldn’t be wise to throw too much at her, too soon.
Even as he made the decision, Connor wondered when he’d become not only a liar, but a coward.
Lily didn’t immediately answer his outrageous declaration. She couldn’t. Not when the words were tangled up with all the hot emotions clogging her throat. Feeling like some love-struck teenager, hating herself, but unable to do a thing about it, she stared up at him.
The silence surrounded them, as thick and heavy as the earlier desire. It took all her strength to keep her eyes steady. Never in her life had she been so moved. Or so confused. Caught up in emotions too tangled to sort out, too complex to understand, Lily didn’t recognize the distant sound of bells.
“Your phone’s ringing,” Connor pointed out gently.
Dragging her gaze from Mac’s, she scooped up the receiver. “Hello?” She hated the way her voice sounded so frail and fractured. “Oh, hi, Gage.” She took a deep breath. “Nothing’s wrong. Really. I’m fine.”
She turned her back on Connor.
Realizing that she needed time, and wanting to give them both some space, Connor picked up his tool box and quietly let himself out of the apartment.
As she heard him leave, Lily experienced dual feelings of relief and regret.
8
BLYTHE WAS IN MAUI. Gage paced the floor of his Miami hotel room and told himself that he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, if that earthquake hadn’t struck, she’d already be on her honeymoon.
He told himself that he had no reason to be angry. Reminded himself that he had no business feeling so possessive. But that didn’t stop him from calling.
The phone rang and rang. Gage was just about ready to hang up when Blythe answered. “Hello?”
When he heard her breathless voice, a jolt of something that could only be jealousy shot through him. You’re losing it, pal, he told himself.
“Did I interrupt something?” he asked gruffly.
She hesitated, as if surprised by the stern, no-nonsense-cop tone he’d pulled out to conceal the fact that the lady was driving him crazy.
“The phone was ringing when I was coming down the hall,” she answered. “I had to run to catch it.”
He immediately felt like an ass. He was also unreasonably relieved to learn that she hadn’t been engaged in passionate pursuits with her fiancé. “I’m sorry to be interrupting your vacation,” he lied.
“Oh, it’s no interruption.” Her tone was warm and friendly. And, although he told himself he was only imagining it, Gage thought she sounded glad to hear from him. “To tell the truth, I’ve been getting a little bored.”
“Already?” What the hell was the matter with Alan Sturgess anyway? Gage knew that if he had this woman all to himself on some tropical island, boredom would not be a problem.
Her laugh was as bright as Hawaiian sunshine. As breezy as tropical winds. “I think I’ve forgotten how to relax. Alan says I’m a workaholic.”
“So where is the doc, anyway?”
“He visited a hospital this morning. This afternoon he’s playing golf with some of the doctors he met there.”
The man was definitely a fool. Sturgess didn’t deserve her, Gage decided. Which didn’t mean that he did.
“I was lying by the pool, trying to read,” she continued when he didn’t respond. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about Alexandra and Patrick. And wondering how you were doing in Miami.”
“Other than being in danger of overdosing on art deco, I’m okay. But I did track down some old guy in one of those retirement condos who remembers Alexandra’s early days in Cuba. Before Stern brought her to Hollywood.”
“He knew her then?”
“Intimately, if the guy can be believed. And if my instincts haven’t gotten totally out of whack since leaving the force, I think he’s telling the truth.”
“So what does he say?”
Gage spent the next ten minutes filling her in on the less than pristine details of Alexandra’s allegedly checkered past. Including the allegation that she was not, as Xanadu’s publicity department had stated at the time, a member of the Russian royal family. Neither, if the eighty-year-old gambler could be trusted, had she merely been modeling swimsuits in that Havana casino prior to her screen debut.
“Alexandra was a call girl?”
Knowing that Blythe had gotten emotionally involved in Alexandra’s story, Gage understood her disappointment. “It seems so. A couple of the guy’s old cronies confirmed that Alexandra was one of the most successful girls in the business. Apparently, she only did business with the high rollers.”
“It’s important to have high standards.” Her tone was dry. And disapproving.
“Hey, you have to remember that although the lady wasn’t deposed royalty, she was still a refugee, Blythe. She didn’t have any money and didn’t speak the language, and who knows what her life was like before escaping Russia?
“Factor in that survival without a man’s protection was a lot harder for women in those days, and it’s probably not so surprising that she did what she felt she had to do. The only thing she could do.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Gage heard her soft, resigned sigh. “But may I ask a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Wouldn’t you be upset to discover that the woman you loved had sold her body?”
“Probably,” Gage answered honestly. “Initially. But if there’s one thing that my years at the cop shop taught me, Blythe, it’s that nothing is as black and white as it seems in the movies. If I truly loved a woman, I’d try to figure out some way to deal with the problem. Because anything would be better than losing her.”
There was a brief silence as Blythe seemed to be considering his words. “That’s an extremely admirable attitude,” she said finally. “Unfortunately, nothing I’ve learned about Patrick Reardon has suggested him to be that broad-minded.”
“I know how important it is to you that the guy be innocent,” Gage said.
“He is.”
For some reason, her unwavering conviction made him smile. “Spoken like a lady who’s learned to trust her instincts.”
He couldn’t help it. His voice had deepened as memories of what had happened the last time Blythe had trusted her feelings filled his mind. Here he was in Miami, while she was miles away in Maui. There were oceans between them. Yet Gage had no trouble at all conjuring up her complex, sensual scent. Just as he could remember, all too well, the sweet, honied taste of her lips.
“Gage...” Her voice, which had become stronger when defending Reardon, had turned shaky again.
They would deal with the chemistry that had flared between them, Gage vowed yet again. But a long-distance phone call was not the place to do it.
“I’m checking out one more thing
tomorrow,” he said in a professional tone. “Then, after a little side trip to Manhattan for Lily, I’m returning to L.A. I’ll keep you up to date.”
“Thank you.”
He was not all that surprised when she managed a businesslike tone herself. She was, after all, a superb actress.
“In the meantime, try to relax and enjoy yourself.” But not too much.
“I’ll try,” she murmured so softly Gage had to strain to hear. “Goodbye, Gage.”
“Goodbye, Blythe.”
There was another long moment of extended silence, as if each was reluctant to be the first to break the long-distance connection. Then, finally, they hung up together.
In Miami, Gage resumed pacing.
Across the miles, on the sun-drenched island of Maui, Blythe stared unseeingly out at the glistening, unbelievably blue waters of the Pacific Ocean and wondered if it was the news about Alexandra that had her suddenly so depressed.
Or if it could be something else. Something she didn’t dare consider.
At the UCLA Medical Center Hospital, Detective Caitlin Carrigan questioned the young rape victim, gently drawing out painful details that would help in the rapist’s apprehension. Unsurprisingly, the vivid descriptions brought back her own near rape.
Cait would never forget the terror she’d experienced that evening. But what would remain most vivid in her mind was the tender way Sloan had assured her that nothing could ever lessen his love for her.
Across town, Sloan labored over his screenplay. He was working on the scene where Alexandra and Patrick eloped to Arizona, wondering, as he did so, how two people who were so much in love could come to such tragic ends.
Of course his own parents hadn’t done much better, Sloan considered. His mother had been a blue-blooded Philadelphian, his father a counterculture war protester, and escaped bank robber. Now his father was dead, killed in a shoot-out with the FBI, and his mother was in an expensive institution in Malibu, her mind—and her spirit—hopelessly fractured.
Cait’s parents’ track record was also nothing to brag about. Multimarried, they changed partners with a frequency that was remarkable even by Hollywood standards.
