“Twins,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Ryan was the one who was always looking for twins.” The smile she pasted on was so big and so phony it made her cheeks hurt.
He looked at her then, and each facet of his face seemed to shift; the tense line of his jaw eased, the frown slipped from his brow, his eyes lost the deep obsidian cast, and finally, his lips curved slightly. “You always said you were falling asleep when I told you that stuff on the phone.”
She’d never fallen asleep on those nights, had loved them. She wished she had the words to tell him that now. Something held her back. Something always did these days.
“It’s the little lady.” The voice boomed across the hall as if he were on the other end instead of standing outside their booth. Jamison. Erin couldn’t remember his first name. For all intents and purposes, these guys didn’t have first names. And she’d never been so happy to see anyone, as if he’d saved them from something terrible.
Before she could open her mouth, he gathered her up in a bear hug, his belt buckle pressing into her belly. She almost squeaked, staring helplessly at Dominic over the man’s shoulder.
She’d met him once. Jay’s memorial. He and his wife had been kind. Please don’t say anything about that now.
“Pretty as a picture.” Jamison beamed with his big Yogi Bear smile as he set her back on her feet.
“Schmoozer,” Dominic said without inflection. Then he squeezed her hand. He held on for a few minutes of conversation that didn’t require her input. Slowly, his grip relaxed, the tense moments over the through-coat gauge drifting away. Maybe she’d imagined them in the first place.
“HERE’S THE INVITE.” JAMISON HANDED DOMINIC AN EMBOSSED card. “You know how to get there?”
“Looked it up on the Web. You weren’t kidding about posh.” Dominic had even looked up the prices of houses out in Windermere. Definitely posh.
Jamison shook his fingers in the air, then blew on them as if he were trying to put out a fire. “That husband of yours says he’s bringing you to Miterberg’s party tonight.” He socked Dominic in the arm, then leaned in close to Erin. “Do not ever tell my wife what goes on.” He zipped his lips. “I’m trusting you.”
“Not a word,” she promised.
He guffawed. “Right. I know you ladies stick together.” Soon after, with another hardy hand clasp, Jamison moved on.
“Why don’t you take the car and go back to the room?” Dominic said. They’d been at it since nine that morning, without even a break for lunch. He’d sent her off for a salad and a burger, but she’d brought the food back to the booth to eat with him. Now, she was sagging, shoulders drooping, eyes glassy from too much frenetic activity going on around her. She wasn’t used to men bear-hugging her, but she’d handled it well.
At work, when she had her fill of people, she could close her office door. Here, you couldn’t get away from the noise. It never bothered Dominic. Erin was different.
She hadn’t said a word while Ryan was here, not a thing when he retrieved the through-coat gauge. Dominic’s gut had clenched, partly from the things it made him remember, partly from fear of how she’d react if he showed the slightest enthusiasm about it. For a couple of months after Jay died, he’d considered scrapping the project altogether, probably would have if Cam Phan hadn’t stepped in until he could get his bearings.
Yet, despite his fears, Erin had bounced back after Ryan’s visit. She’d even joked about the twins as if she had to bring him out of a funk. It gave Dominic hope for the weekend, hope in general. Wrapping his arms across her back, he pulled her flush against his chest. She didn’t fight it. He nuzzled her ear, drinking in her scent, his heart thumping in his chest. It had been so long since she’d allowed him small intimacies like this. “Take a bath, get all gussied up for tonight.”
She opened her mouth. He knew what was coming. She didn’t want to go to the party. She’d tell him to go alone.
Instead, she dropped her eyelids to half-mast. “Your friends at the next booth are staring.”
“Because you’re beautiful,” he whispered.
“It’s because your hand is on my ass.”
She wore tight jeans again and a thin sweater that molded to her breasts. He hadn’t felt his hand drifting lower. “Does it make you hot?”
“That you have your hand on my ass?”
“No.” He shook his head slowly. “That they’re watching.”
The blue of her eyes deepened, and she moistened her lips, catching his gaze on the sight. “It does,” she admitted. “As if I’m on display.”
His skin felt suddenly stretched tightly over his bones. Giving her butt a one-handed squeeze, he pressed her hard to his cock. “A bath, a glass of wine. Get ready for anything, baby.”
Tonight, he was going to see how far he could push a few limits.
5
WINDERMERE WAS AN UPSCALE TOWN OUT ON THE ISTHMUS IN the Butler Chain of Lakes. Quaint, it was like something Erin pictured up in the northeast, with a pretty town square and a landmark town hall. Though it was close to nine o’clock, the icecream shop was still doing a brisk business and couples walked hand in hand on the sidewalk, navigating around families with strollers. Everyone was taking advantage of the unusually warm December air.
Fifteen or so miles southwest of Orlando, Windermere was idyllic. On the way in, they’d passed a sign for a nearby prep school. No ordinary public school for Windermere. This was where the rich came to live and play. It was the kind of place where you’d have to get a permit to have a garage sale and pay a deposit for the signage to make sure you took it down afterward. Then again, Windermere residents wouldn’t have garage sales; they’d do auctions at Sotheby’s.
Driving out toward the lake waters—which of the Butler Chain, Erin wasn’t sure—they left behind the houses and hit mansion central, the lakefront properties.
“Don’t be nervous,” Dominic said, anticipating her mood.
It was one of the habits she’d driven him to, anticipate and circumvent. It made her more determined to keep any black mood at bay for the evening. “I’m not nervous,” she gave the obligatory white lie. Her mother had cleaned houses like this for a living.
Dominic turned down a lane framed by trees, something tall, thin, and evergreen. Cypress maybe. Or juniper. He drove with his hand draped over the wheel. “You look sexy in that dress.”
It felt like a throwaway compliment, something said to make conversation. She didn’t call him on it. “Thank you.” Ever so polite. Yeah, she was more than a little nervous. The black velvet number hadn’t been out of its plastic hanging bag in a very long time.
Ground lights flanked the drive he pulled into. There was no gate, but a uniformed man stood by a pillar topped with a lion’s head. Dominic lowered the window and handed over the embossed card Jamison had given him.
Beyond the entry pillars, the front yard was a vast expanse of grass dotted with flowering bushes and a huge box hedge on either side, separating the property from the next estate. Lights gleamed along the front of the two-story house, illuminating the three-car garage and the walkway to the front portico and open double doors.
Invitation inspected and accepted, Dominic rolled away, stashing the card on the dash. He smiled at her, his teeth gleaming. “What do you think?”
He’d described the opulence of some of these parties, but she hadn’t quite believed him. “I hope the food is just as good because I’m starving.” He’d brought her a salad when he returned from the show, telling her to save her appetite.
“I guarantee you’ll be totally satisfied.”
With another flash of his teeth, she was pretty sure he wasn’t referring to food. Since the time that couple had stumbled upon them in the woods, they’d gotten a kick out of fantasizing about watching and being watched. But though Dominic had ventured to the Internet to scope out sex clubs, they’d never acted on it. Just the phone sex after some trade show or conference he’d attended. She’d suspected he made up half of
it merely to excite her. And it had worked.
They pulled their nondescript rental car in among Mercedes, Jags, BMWs, and a fire-engine-red Mustang. A young parking valet with short blond hair opened her door and held out his hand to help Erin from the car.
Dominic loved people and parties, but he was also looking for something from her. Connection. She owed him at least this, a little pretending, a little forgetting. Why the hell not?
SHE WAS GORGEOUS IN BLACK VELVET, A DRESS HE HADN’T SEEN IN longer than he cared to admit. Even before they lost Jay, she’d worked too hard. He’d allowed her to. She’d paired black suede high heels with sheer black stockings. Wanting to save the surprise and heighten his anticipation, he hadn’t watched her dress and wasn’t sure if they were thigh highs. His skin heated in hope.
He knew her well, her signals, the nuances by which he gauged her mood. He also knew she hated it when he read her correctly. Now she was playing the dutiful wife. This is what he wants, so this is what I’ll do and then maybe he’ll get off my case. That wasn’t good enough for him.
Dominic laced his fingers through hers and led her across the marble foyer. “Food first,” he told her. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs; air, food, drink, then sex, though that wasn’t exactly how Maslow would have expressed it.
Like something out of an antebellum mansion, a wide carpeted staircase rose before them, then parted at a small landing to climb in opposite directions to the second floor. On the left of the stairs, wide doors led to a large sitting room that extruded voices and laughter like a well-oiled machine, but, like carnivores on the hunt, most of the throng followed the sweet and tangy scents wafting through the archway to the right. The attire was anything from jeans and polo shirts to fancy cocktail dresses, the colors as vivid as a peacock’s feathers. There were more men than women, and the women, for the most part, were under the age of thirty. Stereotypical playthings for rich, old men. Dominic preferred his own woman to any twentysomething.
He jumped in line behind one of the few middle-aged couples, snagged a flute of champagne from a huge tray set by the door, and handed it to Erin.
“Oh my God.” Her voice was breathy against his ear, awestruck. “Would you look at that spread.”
She gazed in wonder at the magnificent buffet. Trust food to bring her to life. Thank God he hadn’t fed her well. It was as if they’d entered another time, another place, a foreign setting, where their past didn’t have to exist and Erin could forget for a while, be the woman he’d married rather than the mother who’d lost everything. He squeezed her hand. “Hungry?”
“You know I’m famished. A salad,” she scoffed. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking about this.” He swept his hand before them, but it wasn’t the platters stacked high with fresh shrimp, lobster, and crab that made his mouth water. It was the sudden animation on her face, the sparkle in her eyes. So what if it didn’t last? He was living for the moment.
The meat had already been pulled from the cracked shells. He held her champagne and a plate to share while she mounded it with shellfish. “So this guy is rich?”
He hadn’t seen Miterberg yet, but the man was known for ostentation and risky business. By midnight, his guests would be swimming naked in the heated pool. And a whole lot more.
If everything went according to plan, Erin would be crazy with desire in a couple of hours. He wasn’t hoping for a public display at the party. That was asking way too much. He was thinking about after that. She might not even be able to wait for the hotel. He imagined doing her in a secluded glade off the highway. He’d been on the lookout as he drove.
“Do you want some Brie?” She held up a small knife.
He wanted something smooth, hot, and creamy, and it wasn’t Brie. She laid a few crackers alongside the cheese on the plate. Then she raised her eyes and batted her lashes. “Maybe you need your own plate. This one’s getting full.”
He felt himself coming to life right along with her. The trip could work. It could be a new beginning for them.
While she concentrated on a tray of fruit cut in intricate designs, he let his gaze wander the room and found himself captured by a man leaving the head of the line. His eyes on Erin’s ass as she leaned slightly over the table, the guy almost bumped into a woman passing by him.
Though his hair was silver, the lines on his face didn’t make him out to be more than in his midforties. Where Dominic had chosen slacks and a button-down shirt, this guy had gone the tuxedo route. Erin liked a sharp dresser, James Bond style as played by Sean Connery. Elegant without being prissy.
As he watched his wife being assessed, something hot blossomed in his gut. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that. It was partly pride of ownership, and he enjoyed that this man couldn’t tear his gaze from the sexy sway of his wife’s ass as, oblivious, she picked through the buffet.
Before he could point the guy out, though, he’d disappeared through the open doors at the far end.
Erin walked away with a full plate. “God, this is seductive,” she said as he caught up. She dipped a morsel of lobster in a little tub of drawn butter she’d poured.
Seductive? An odd word. “The food?”
She shrugged. “The opulence. Like hanging around sports pros or rock stars. You can see why people become groupies.” She held up a shrimp dredged in cocktail sauce.
He ate from her fingers, licking away the remaining sauce, his blood starting to rush. “Yeah, sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll.” He steered her to the same open doorway through which her admirer had vanished. Beyond lay a large sunroom cascading with hanging plants and potted ferns, rattan chairs, chaises, and rag rugs. A citrus scent from indoor fruit trees perfumed the air. Couples lounged and laughed, exchanging seductive glances and touches, but nothing untoward. Yet.
He didn’t see the man among them.
“Have a cracker.” She fed him one slathered in a delicious cheese, watching his mouth as he ate. Beneath the velvet of her dress, he detected the pearl of a nipple.
She was seduced, stepping out of herself. She hated party schmoozing. Especially when he talked business and wasn’t paying as much attention as he should. Thus was the difference. Here, she was the center of his attention. He noticed everything, her tongue slipping along her finger to catch a drop of butter, the rich shade of her lipstick, the fall of her red hair across her shoulders and back. The way men looked at her.
He wanted to toss aside the plate, lay her down on a chaise lounge, and fuck her right here in front of everyone. The way they’d fantasized in their previous life. The way he’d done her up against that tree with a pair of hikers watching. He wanted that other life.
All he had was this weekend.
“Drink your champagne.” He traded her for the plate, taking her hand as they wended their way through the crowd.
She sipped. “Wow, this is the expensive stuff.”
She noticed things like that, her childhood having been poor. His had been hard, too, but money had always seemed more important to her than to him. Not that he didn’t like or appreciate having it, and he’d worked hard to get it.
They feasted, sipped champagne, and wandered the room for a bit, then headed out to the patio. He laid the plate on a table by the French door as the scent of chlorine overlaid the citrus. Tiny lights illuminated the edge of the kidney-shaped pool, and water bubbled over a rock formation at the far end, simulating a waterfall. In the shadow of the rocks, a Jacuzzi frothed, vapor rising into the cooler air. From its depths, three couples and a man saluted with champagne glasses, a heap of clothing on several chaises next to the pool. It wasn’t midnight, and they were already getting naked.
Erin skirted the hot tub and headed out to the boat dock. Lights twinkled along the opposite shore. The night having grown cooler, goose bumps pebbled her bare arms, but he didn’t move to touch her beyond their clasped hands.
Sometimes he was incapable of taking the slam when she turned him down. He couldn’t bear it now.
<
br /> She drew in a deep breath, staring across the water. “Thank you.” She sipped the good champagne.
“You’re welcome.” For what?
“I was really hungry. And that was good.”
He had a feeling she was speaking of something else entirely, sustenance, maybe, but not food. Maybe something a little bit higher on Maslow’s hierarchy.
She didn’t specify. He didn’t ask. Thank you was enough. A moment later he led her away from the boat dock. Something creaked in the virtual darkness at the edge of the patio, on the backside of the Jacuzzi and waterfall. Erin stopped, tugging his hand.
The darkness coalesced into shapes. A couple of lounge chairs. One of them was . . . moving, then, his eyes adjusting, he made out the twin moons of a man’s ass surrounded by a pair of alabaster legs gleaming in the moonlight.
Erin put her lips to his ear. “You weren’t joking all those times.”
“I told you there was a lot of sex going on.”
“I thought you made a lot of it up.”
He grinned. “Some. But certainly not all.”
“They’re fucking.” She sidled close, hugging his arm. “God, that’s hot.”
“Yes.” The first time you actually saw live spontaneous sex, it was hot and exciting simply for the novelty. Though he couldn’t say this was exactly a seductive sight, the ass in question a bit too large and flabby.
For a moment he wondered if it was Jamison. But Jamison, despite his talk about not telling his wife, had never actually done anything at any of the parties Dominic had seen him at.
“What wasn’t real in all the stories you told me?” Her breath was a warm puff fanning his neck. She still hadn’t taken her gaze off the oblivious couple.
“There was no orgy.”
He imagined he could actually feel her body heating against him. “But everything else?” she prodded.
Past Midnight Page 5
