Back then, she’d turned down every one of his attempts to fling money at her, taking nothing from him after the divorce, cutting off every little contact they might have had. She’d wanted a clean break with none of his money in her pockets, nor the illusion that they were friends. Friends didn’t lie, and he’d done plenty of that during their marriage.
No, the artifact was lost to her now.
She reached for the phone, almost pulling it off the nightstand before securing the receiver.
It was answered on the first ring. “Phelan.”
Her short, curt answer was exactly what Chloe expected. “It’s Chloe. I need to talk to the Collector.”
“Is there a problem, Ms. Richards?” Was that disappointment she detected in the other woman’s voice? Her shoulders went back into the bed. If Phelan wanted the thing so bad, she could go face the dragon named Drake.
“You could say that. I need to talk to your boss.”
“Very well.”
She heard the low mumble of voices, soft, as if they were talking into a trumpet on the other end.
“Ms. Richards. What can I do for you?”
“I can’t get your artifact, Mr. Collector.” She rubbed a hand over her face. Boy, that was an understatement.
Silence reigned. Finally, he said, “May I ask why not?”
“Because it’s with my ex-husband.”
More quiet. “And?”
“That’s all. It’s with my ex-husband.” She scooted her butt further up the bed so her head rested on the pillow. Damn, but she missed the hotel bed already. That one had springs, unlike this old thing.
“I fail to see how that precludes you getting from the item we discussed.”
Chloe stared into the phone, then made an obscene gesture at it.
The Collector continued in the same mellow tone, “I realize it increases the level of difficulty, perhaps.”
“Perhaps?” Now she sat up, sputtering into the phone. Perhaps my ass. “Perhaps? Try definitely.”
“Now, Ms. Richards ...”
“Mr. Collector, I don’t think you realize how things ended between Drake and me. It went bad. Bad fast. And ... well, the vase I aimed at his head didn’t help any sentiment he might have for me. It was a Ming.”
“He had good taste.”
“Oh, yes, he had all kinds of --” She shrugged, though the Collector couldn’t see her. “-- stuff.”
“I’m sure. Too bad he let one of them go.” He clucked his tongue. “The most important one of all.”
Hope sparked in her voice. “He doesn’t have the artifact? It’s somewhere else?” Maybe this had been a test, and the Collector knew where it had been the whole time. Now he’d tell her, and she’d go after it.
“No. Alas, I know even less than you about the artifact’s whereabouts, I’m afraid.” His breathing rasped a second.
Her shoulders slumped. So much for that hope. This was her life, so she should have expected nothing less. “So you see, I can’t get this for you. He’d never give it to me.” There, it was out. She’d failed. One more check in that column, which outweighed the success column by a mile.
“Ms. Richards, I have the utmost faith in your ability to get this for me. It’s why I hired you.”
She shook a foot back and forth on the bed. The view wasn’t as nice here, either, as at the hotel. It looked straight into a brick wall, which blocked most of the light from her rooms. “I can’t.” Whether it was facing Drake or retrieving the artifact, she’d never make it. It was impossible.
“You can. You’re the only one who can get this totem for me. The only one.”
His voice sounded so earnest, so hopeful. She frowned. Dammit, why this blind faith in her abilities? It warmed her from her tingling toes to the top of her head. This man believed, for whatever reason, she could do this. “I ...”
“Give it a try, Ms. Richards. You might surprise yourself. And your ex-husband as well.”
Maybe it was the heady sensation of hearing someone believed in her. Maybe it was the thrill of seeing Drake again, even if merely to take something of his. Whatever it was, she took a deep breath, heart swelling. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do. But I don’t promise anything. We didn’t part on good terms.”
“Trying is all I can ask of you.” Now she could hear the smile reflected in his voice. “Good luck, Ms. Richards.”
Hanging up the phone, she closed her eyes, lying back on her pillows. How was she going to get this item away from Drake? He probably didn’t even know it was there. It probably sat on a shelf somewhere collecting dust, or was in a box in storage. Neglected. Something he could say he had, but never touched. She’d be liberating it. At least the Collector cared about it. That much was evident from the lengths he’d gone to retrieve it.
Now that she wasn’t panicking, something smelled in her apartment. Her beta fish winked at her from her dresser. Guess the neighbor’s kid had fed him after all, so it wasn’t him. She’d probably forgotten to take out the trash in the kitchen.
Seeing Drake didn’t mean they’d have sex.
She’d resist his charms this time. There’d be no second chances for them, no matter how much magic he worked on her.
Cocking her head, she realized the Collector had never told her what important artifact that Drake had given up. Not that it mattered. She must be as nuts as the Collector to even think about flying to Richmond, back to the man who’d stayed in her thoughts and daydreams for the last four years.
Chapter Three
Drake finished up the telephone call before leaning back and placing his feet on his desk. He’d unpiled a mound of paperwork for tomorrow morning. Mornings, he did business. Afternoons were for golf or other diversions. Evenings were for catch up on anything he hadn’t done. He’d be turning in for the night in just a couple of hours. Before he got up and started a day of the same over again.
You’re boring.
A regimented creature of habit, he’d always kept a schedule. Even when he’d toured, things had been set, and little got out of sync.
Except when Chloe was with him.
Chloe would knock Father Time off kilter. She ran on her own time schedule and clock.
Her favorite way to distract him had been to put her hand on his cock. Whatever they’d been talking or arguing about had been lost in the rush of blood. He couldn’t think with both heads being engaged, and the smaller one won every time.
She’d known the power she had over him. So many times she would bite her lip seductively and flash him a come-hither grin. He always came hither. Usually a few times.
His doorbell rang, chiming all through his house.
Checking the time, he rose from his chair, tempted to check his scheduler. He didn’t have any appointments now, though, he was sure of it.
He swung his front door open, and all the blood that had been activating his brain’s cells pumped quickly down to a raging erection. The person who’d been driving his thoughts stood before him.
“Hi, Drake.” Her throaty voice sounded even sweeter than he’d remembered, even more passionate. His ex-wife wore a tight black Lycra dress that covered the “ass” and “ets” in style. Her long legs stretched down from the thigh-length skirt in all their tanned glory. The little bit of weight she’d put on had rounded her curves, developing them to a rich fullness. She’d grown more beautiful in the time they’d been apart. Women weren’t supposed to do that.
He tightened more. “Chloe?” Dumb question. It was her, all right. But what she was she doing on his stoop?
Her teeth poked out to bite her lip the same way he’d remembered her doing. One hand on his cock, and they’d be back to old times. “It’s me.”
“I see.” He stared out into the late day sunshine, trying not to look at her, but failing. Her nipples poked through the thin material, plainly displayed. He’d loved to thumb and nip them. She’d gotten off on it, sometimes seemed about to come from mere breast play. She wasn’t wearing a bra at the m
oment. She’d sometimes gone pantyless, too. His mouth wasn’t sure whether to dry or drool at that thought. He scanned down her body, wondering if he could see pantylines or not.
As his gaze found her face again, her mouth pushed up in amusement. “Are you going to invite me in?”
“Oh, shit ... yeah.” He opened the door wider for her to walk beside him into his lair. How long had they stood outside? Seemed like a long time, but it must have been only seconds. Her scent invaded his space, that same scent of vanilla she’d always worn. How he’d loved to wake up immersed in it. Immersed in her. Until she’d left him. That shook off his desire, but only partially. “What are you doing here, Chloe?”
She walked around the foyer with its high ceiling. Toying with a small green vase, her fingers caressed it, barely touching, swirling around the top. “Do I need a reason to see you, Drake?”
His cock jiggled, but he couldn’t look away from her touching. Sweetness and light like this weren’t her style. Her style was more like piss and vinegar. Was she up to something? “It’s been four years; I’d say you do.”
Her hands dropped from the vase and swung to her sides. “I know we didn’t part on the best of terms.”
Understating was one of those Chloe talents. “You threw things at me. A bunch of things.” Before you walked away.
“I was ... upset.”
“You were fucking pissed.”
Her red glossy mouth tightened into a line before smoothing out. “You know why.” A deep breath escaped her, moving her chest up and down, drawing his eyes. Lycra was made by his hero. “I didn’t come here to talk about old times.” She tittered. “Though I am sorry about the Ming.”
His lips pursed. His Ming vase had barely missed his head. He should be thankful it wasn’t his head that had shattered on the floor. He looked to the green vase sitting on the nearby table. At least it was smaller, in case her aim had gotten better like her beauty. “What did you come here for?”
“I wanted to see you.” A flash of guilt marched across her face. She had a horrible time with poker because she couldn’t lie worth shit. It looked like that hadn’t changed. Why had she come here if she didn’t want to see him? She’d made it clear that she hadn’t wanted anything more to do with him or his money when the divorce had become final. He’d respected her wishes, staying away and not offering any help even when he’d known about her niece, though he would have liked to.
“You’ve seen me.” He waved his hand in front of him.
She tiptoed closer on strappy black high heels that clicked on the tile. “Maybe I want to see you. All of you.”
She blew a light breath along his neck, the closest place she could reach. It tickled his skin, warping his thin hairs up on end. Her breath smelled of wintergreen, fresh and clear. He swallowed, the movement slow and deliberate.
Maybe he was being too suspicious. The woman had come here, peacefully, of her own free will. Maybe it had been to see him. He couldn’t imagine what else it could be for, unless ...
“Do you need money?”
Her body stiffened so quickly, a joint popped. “What?”
“Do you need money? Is that why you’re here? I heard about Kimberly.”
Pain flashed into her eyes as if a flashbulb went off, reminding her of things she wanted to forget. Smooth, Drake, real smooth. Why not kick her puppy while you’re at it?
“How did you ...? Ah, the old grapevine.”
“With Aunt Mary as the top grape. She always liked you.”
Her smile came wry and a bit raw. Pain on her affected him the same way it always had, slamming into his gut. “Even when you didn’t.”
“Hey, now, I always ...” He broke off, his gaze breaking off with hers. “Is that why you’re here, though?”
“No,” she snapped. “I’m not here because of Kimberly’s cancer or her mother’s money problems. I didn’t want your money then, and I don’t want it now.”
Both the cancer and the money problems were extensive, so he’d heard. “Then, why are you here?” He leaned back against the railing to the steps. She’d always had a streak of damn pride a thousand miles wide, wanting to do things on her own, make it on her own. It was admirable, but foolish at times.
“Argghgh. You’re still an insufferable asshole! Maybe I’m here because I wanted to see you again.” She bit out her words in short bursts, sounding defensive. She flailed her hands. “I give up.”
She strode to the door. The lock flipped into place before she could open it. “You have this place rigged? Show-off.”
The things he couldn’t tell her had torn them apart before, in their marriage. He could do magic, and after all these years, she still thought it was gimmicks and sleight of hand. Now that she was here, he didn’t want her to leave. He refused to question why that was too deeply. But she couldn’t leave yet.
If you’d just told her ...
I couldn’t.
Promises had been made and kept. If only he could have told her, but he’d given his word to family who’d trusted him.
She blew out a deep breath. He expected the seams to pop in the dress. “We’ve gotten off wrong as usual. Let’s try this again.” Her face carried a high flush rising up her cheekbones and going under that dark tangled hair. She’d always been easy to anger, easy to arouse. He’d loved to wrap his hands in her hair when they’d been making love. She loved to be restrained. His hands tightened into fists, images flashing across his mind.
“All right.” Bringing them up, he folded his hands in front of his chest, both still clenched. “Let’s.”
“Drake.” His name fell from her honeyed lips, and it transported him back to so many times they’d had together. Her face tipped up to his as she took a step closer. “I came to see you.”
His eyes searched hers. Like pools of dark water, they pulled him into their depths until he was drowning in them.
With a groan, he yielded, pulling her into his arms, wanting her, needing her as close to him as he could get her.
Her body trembled against his, the aroused shudders exciting him. She wasn’t pushing him away, but rubbing against his body.
“Chloe,” he whispered roughly.
He buried his hands into her thick hair, much like he’d thought of earlier, letting it thread through his fingers like strands of silk as his mouth found hers in a frenzied kiss that quickly turned from gentle reacquaintance into a passionate fusion.
Her lips parted under his, letting him in. She tasted of mint. He crushed her body against his, pushing backwards until her back rested against the wall.
Her hips blanketed him as he rubbed his straining cock against her middle. Whatever else they’d had problems with, this was where they had no trouble. That was something else that hadn’t changed.
His hands slid down the soft material to cup her ass, squeezing roughly. It had been far too long. Sliding under the material in the tight space against the wall, he was rewarded with bare skin.
No panties.
Arousal roared through him, his blood racing to swollen parts, rushing around his ears like a river.
He growled, two fingers giving her ass a soft pinch.
She jerked against him, body rocking, mouth straining against his. “What was that for?”
“General principles.”
She snorted, pushing at his shoulders. “Drake.”
He grasped her hands in his, holding them above her head against the wall. Her eyes glazed over. She still liked it. “Yeah.”
“We probably shouldn’t do this.” She bit her lip, teeth grinding against the lower one, eyes glittering. Her hesitant tone spoke more about what she wanted than the words did.
“Fuck that.” Like hell they shouldn’t.
His mouth claimed hers again as he moved them to the little table, tossing the green vase to the floor where it bounced into the corner before shattering. He put her on top of the table, making sure it wasn’t going to break with her weight, and pushed her skirt up to her
hips. Kneeling in front of her, he took in the sight of her. The glimpse of pink pussy he saw peeking made him moan.
“Tell me what you want, Chloe.” His fingers skimmed down the outside her thighs. The heavy scent of her arousal filled his nostrils. She’d be so wet, so ready for him. Please don’t stop this.
Her breathing picked up speed as she panted out, “I ...” Her eyes met his. “Dammit, I want you.”
His hands parted her thighs as he dove in and licked her up the middle of her pussy. His tongue licked and suckled, the taste of her, of the woman, driving him beyond sense. His teeth raked her clit, causing her body to jerk and a loud groan to escape her mouth. He pressed his tongue into the quivering mass of nerves.
Pressure from his tongue caused her to spasm, her hips bucking up and down as an orgasm gripped her. She was still easy to arouse.
The movement of her pelvis was too much for the table as one leg broke off. He’d tested for weight, not activity, and it tipped forward. Her sex came for him, her hands grasping, trying to find something to give her purchase so that she didn’t come down on top of him.
He grabbed her hips, bringing her down slowly, moving her to allow the table to collapse.
He rolled her up under him on the floor.
She chuckled, looking at him with a ferocious smile. “You always did like bringing down the house. You haven’t changed.”
“It was a table, not the house.”
“So?” She kissed him fiercely, her tongue seeking his out to dance with it. She reached, sliding hands between their bodies to undo his pants and belt. God, Chloe warm and willing had always undone him.
The cool air on his skin did little against the fires burning inside him. Probably even the Antarctic wouldn’t cool him down.
Pushing aside her dress once more, he readied himself to enter her.
She tapped him on the shoulder, whispering, “Condom.”
He froze, his mind blown away by what he’d been about to do. Was he that far gone?
Getting up, he pulled one out of his wallet, which was in his jacket pocket that hung by the door. It should have slowed him down, made the fires in inside him bank, but all he could think of was the fucking he’d done of her with his mouth. It wasn’t enough. He needed so much more.
THE COLLECTOR 1 - Magical Chances Page 3
