by Sheryl Lynn
He took his time, enjoying the feel of her silky skin and the way strain abated from her face. Her eyes closed, which was a good thing, because if she got a glimpse of his crotch, he was in trouble. He massaged both feet.
“Want me to do your back?”
“No,” she murmured in a drowsy voice he felt all the way to the center of his bones.
“It’ll feel good.”
Her eyelids fluttered. “You’re trying to seduce me.”
“Yeah, so what’s your point?”
“I’m too old to play games.” She slipped her feet off his lap and stretched her arms high over her head. The satin molded around her breasts. Daniel’s eyes glazed. His groin throbbed. Animal lust roared in his ears. He wanted to pounce on her, ravish her.
The tip of her tongue slid over her upper lip. “Truth is, you are tempting.”
Progress! “You can seduce me if you want.”
She rose, took a step, then uttered a low mmmm of sheer pleasure. She used her right foot to stroke her left leg. If a herd of dancing elephants burst into the room right now—pink elephants!—he couldn’t have torn his gaze away from the sensuous action of her feet.
“Pardon the cliché, but I’m not that kind of girl. Quickies don’t interest me.”
He passed a finger diagonally over his chest then held up three fingers in a Boy Scout salute. “I’ll take all night if you want.”
Her laughter whispered over his skin and through his soul. “Thanks for the massage. It really did help.”
“I’m going to figure you out, Janine,” he warned her. “When I do, you’re mine.”
“There is nothing to figure out. Besides, I have Elliot. He’s all the man I need. Now good night. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”
Daniel doubted if comfy old Elliot could make her purr the way she’d been purring during the foot massage. He resigned himself to keep a curb on his desire until Pinky was taken care of. After that, getting rid of Elliot should be a breeze.
“IT’S LIKE A LABYRINTH down here,” Daniel said.
Janine opened a door to reveal the wine cellar. She’d been thinking the same thing about the basement under the lodge. “The original lodge, without the wings, was built in the 1920s for a hunting club. During the Depression, the owners tried to keep it profitable by turning it into a speakeasy. They built hidden rooms to hide liquor. But the roads were bad and the G-men were good. The investors lost everything.”
Though the wine cellar was well lit with banks of overhead lights, she used a flashlight to peer into corners. Daniel discovered the dumbwaiter connecting the cellar with the restaurant upstairs. Noise trickled down the shaft. Janine envied the carefree diners in the restaurant above.
“How does this work?” he asked.
“The old-fashioned way. A rope pulley.”
Gears squeaked when he manipulated the rope that raised and lowered the elevator platform. A cloud of dust made him sneeze. “A man could fit inside.”
“And plenty of people have tried it. Especially boys.” She flicked the flashlight beam at his face. “You’re supposed to be searching, not contemplating a ride in the dumbwaiter.”
He grinned, unrepentant. “I was thinking about Pinky.”
“Sure you were.” His smile distracted her, reminding her of the foot massage he’d given her last night. Common sense said to ignore his flirtations. Common sense meant little when he was the only person with the power to make her feel good these days.
They found nothing in the wine cellar, just as they’d found nothing in the laundry room, boiler room or in the many storage areas. A sense of vulnerability swamped her. Two sets of stairs led from the basement to the east wing. Two more led to the main lodge. Another set of stairs led to the outdoors. The dumbwaiter in the wine cellar could be used by a determined stalker, as could the laundry chutes and the small, automated supply elevators servicing the kitchen and west wing. The lodge had as many holes as a wedge of Swiss cheese.
Janine paused at the door to the laundry room. Muggy heat radiated from the constantly running washing machines and commercial-size dryers. Plumes of detergent-scented mist curled through the doorway. She eyed the wide openings of the chutes. A bundle of sheets fell from one and landed inside a canvas-sided cart.
Daniel touched the small of her back. “What are you thinking?”
“If Pinky is dumb enough to use the laundry chutes.” She pointed out a woman loading bundles of fresh linens into a small elevator that carried clean linens up to all three floors of the west wing. “Or the laundry elevator. He could slip into the west wing through one of the side doors, go down through here and then slip over to the east wing without anyone seeing him.”
“Or enter through the door from outside.” He looked around. “A person could live undetected down here for years. Hmm, I wonder where Lanny Lewis really was yesterday?”
Eager to get out of the basement, she hurried for the stairs. “Juan said Lanny was visiting friends in the Springs.”
“Ask Mike to check out Lanny’s alibi. If nothing else, we can eliminate him as a suspect.”
“I think we can eliminate Ellen, too. She was on-shift when Pinky set the garage on fire. The more I think about it, the more difficult it is to imagine Ellen being able to slip away from her duties long enough to follow us around.”
When she reached the main floor she heaved a sigh of relief to be out of the gloomy basement. She wiped her grimy hands against her sweatshirt and brushed away spiderwebs.
After a busy weekend, the lounge seemed deserted. Housekeeping personnel took advantage of the midweek lull to power clean the floors and furniture in the lounge and lobby. Jason Bulshe balanced atop a ladder. He changed lightbulbs in a chandelier.
Janine’s mouth turned unpleasantly dry. Last night he’d seemed like a completely different person from the cute young man who always acted so eager to please.
Daniel grunted. Eyes narrowed and jaw tight, he looked dangerous. His muscles flexed against her arm, radiating coiled power. She suspected he’d like to get Jason alone in a locked room so he could beat a confession out of him.
She hated suspecting Jason. Juan was upset already about Craig Johnson quitting. Having two more of his staff under suspicion didn’t help matters. He hadn’t said a word when he’d given her a key inventory this morning.
Janine didn’t know what to do about Jason. She couldn’t fire him without cause. He’d never done or said anything in the past to make her uncomfortable.
The young man stepped down a few rungs. He stared at her, unsmiling, blank-faced. She wanted to scream at him, to demand he tell her if he was the creepy little sneak trashing her life.
Daniel suddenly slipped a hand under her hair and grasped the back of her head. His long fingers splayed, holding her fast. Before she had time to protest, he kissed her.
His lips against hers shocked her to her toes. He held her head firmly and slipped his other arm around her waist. His kiss was tender, a sweet press of his closed mouth against hers. His warm, masculine, earthy scent overwhelmed her, flooding her body with erotic heat. Her eyelids drifted downward of their own accord. She sighed deep in her throat and her mouth relaxed, her lips parting.
He slipped his tongue in tentative exploration along the slick inner rim of her lower lip. He tasted like spring water. He smelled of shaving cream and a hint of mint, their subtleties blotting out the smells of dust, cleansers and lemon furniture oil. Her pulse thudded in her ears, deafening her to the sounds of vacuum cleaners and people talking. She touched her tongue to his and every nerve in her body snapped to life, tingling with sexual greed.
She pressed upward. Every memory of previous kisses disappeared. Any kiss in her life had been but a mere prelude to this kiss. A kiss reaching far beyond the gentle laving of his tongue and sharing of heated breath. A kiss that stopped time. A kiss that reached deep within and plucked her soul. Each beat of her heart echoed I want... I want...
He pulled away, suckling on her
lower lip, his heavy exhalation hot against her cheek. She stared into his eyes. Soulful, tender, sexy eyes—had she ever seen eyes so beautiful?
A snicker pierced her daze and she snapped her head toward the source. A housekeeper dusted a potted plant. Head down, staring fixedly at her task, the girl obviously fought laughter.
Reality returned with a jolt. Janine remembered where she was and more important, who she was. Where the lobby had seemed deserted before, now it seemed crammed full of people, all of whom had witnessed the kiss.
She pulled from Daniel’s embrace. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to not break into a run. Head high, cheeks burning, she crossed the lobby, past the grinning young women working the registration desk and into the east wing.
She never lost her head around a man—never, never, never! She called the shots, she set the boundaries, she remained in control. Being swept away by passion was for weaklings and romantic fools. Sexual desire was like any other bodily appetite—moderation was the key.
She fumbled through keys, searching for her office key.
“Janine?”
“You didn’t have to do that,” she whispered harshly. She jammed the key in the lock and turned it hard. She shoved the door open and stomped inside.
“Engage and enrage, that’s the plan,” he said, closing the door behind them. “If Jason didn’t take me seriously before, he will now.”
Hurt knotted her insides. The kiss had been a ploy, nothing more. All part of Daniel’s grand plan.
She whirled on him. “Improvising?”
“Yep,” he replied, smugly.
She grabbed the front of his sweater. “Improvise this!” She kissed him.
His immediate response thrilled her. He wrapped both arms around her, crushing her against his body. Her fingers tangled in his sweater. He kissed her with bruising force. A full mouth kiss, wet and hot and arousing. Her teeth scraped his. Blood rushed in her ears. She wanted this, she wanted him. All of him. He backed her against the desk, never breaking the kiss. She couldn’t breathe, she didn’t need air. All she needed was him. The erotic thrusting of his tongue, the press of his hands against her back and under her hair, the grind of his pelvis against hers. He was aroused; knowing she aroused him inflamed her.
His mouth gentled. She slowed her tongue to match his rhythm and savored the sweet taste of his mouth. She worked her hands upward, over the soft knit of his sweater and found the rough masculinity of his cheeks. She touched his earlobes with her fingertips and a low pleasurable noise rumbled in his throat.
He kissed and kissed her, one moment soft and questing, the next hard and deep. Her breasts grew heavy, the ache matching the one in her groin.
The desk was sharp against her backside. She squirmed until she perched on the edge. He made that exciting noise again. When she hooked a leg around his, pressing their bodies tighter, he groaned. His hardness threatened to drive her mad. Denim scratched her suddenly sensitive thighs and she wanted to rip off her jeans—rip off his jeans.
He broke the kiss. She thrust her fingers into his hair. Thick but silky, it flowed over her hands like water. His eyes had darkened to chocolate sparked by embers.
“Do you mean this?” he asked, caressing her back. His fingers lingered over her bra strap.
The uncertainty she heard melted her from the inside out She cupped his cheek. “I don’t know what I mean,” she answered honestly.
Her life suddenly felt as barren as the walls in this office or the tidy desktop. She had it all: a career, a great home, a close family. Without love, though, she had nothing.
“I can’t keep holding you like this. I’ll go nuts.”
She traced the strong line of his cheekbone. She wanted him to go nuts. Common sense returned and she patted his cheek. “You better back off.”
He nodded graciously and did so. His hands trembled.
Her hands trembled, too. She clutched the edge of the desk. “This isn’t the time or the place. You realize that, don’t you?”
He fingered his lower lip and smiled, his entire face softening. “Give me a time and place. I’ll be there.”
She should make him promise to never do anything like that again. No more touching. No more teasing. Put their relationship back on a strictly business level. Her thoughts drifted instead to the Honeymoon Hideaway, especially Cabin A with its carved bed and oversize marble bathtub built for two. She wanted to lick champagne off every inch of his gorgeous body. She wanted to tear off his fancy boxer shorts with her teeth.
She swiped hair off her face. She didn’t look sexy, but she felt sexy. He was sexy—so sexy the sight of him physically pained her.
Loud voices in the hallway beyond the door drew her attention. A shriek, unmistakably coming from Chef, made her jump off the desk. Daniel flung out an arm, preventing her from opening the door. He opened the door enough to see out.
Chef bellowed something about Nazis.
Daniel led the way to the kitchen where Helmsley held Brian Cadwell by the arm. The young man’s face looked formed of bread dough and his mouth hung slack. A pair of sheriffs deputies had their weapons drawn. Brandishing a wickedly sharp meat cleaver, Chef screamed threats. Kitchen workers cowered behind worktables.
The colonel arrived. “What the devil is going on here?”
Janine wanted to know the same thing. As tempting as it was to allow the deputies to shoot Chef, she stalked across the kitchen and stuck a finger in his face. “Put that down immediately!” Perhaps from shock, or perhaps because he suffered a rare bout of common sense, Chef slammed the cleaver onto a chopping block. Clunk. Chef grumbled under his breath, and his face turned bright red, but he crossed his arms and stood quivering with rage.
“Now, Mr. Helmsley, what are you doing?”
The investigator looked between her, the chef and the cleaver. He nodded curtly at the deputies. They holstered their weapons. “I’ve asked Mr. Cadwell to come with me to the sheriff’s department. I’d like to ask him a few questions.”
“Your basis for questioning is what exactly?” the colonel asked. “Why have you bypassed the chain of command?”
“Do you want to tell your boss, Brian, or do you want me to tell him?”
Tears rolled down Brian’s fat cheeks.
“Seems our young friend here has some hobbies he failed to mention when we talked before. He likes to set fires in trash cans. He’s got a thing about ladies’ underwear, too.”
Janine’s mouth dropped open. Daniel cocked his head, studying Brian as if he were some exotic insect.
The colonel took one stiff step then another. His eyes glittered with fearsome light. With each step drawing him closer to Brian, the young man shrank. The colonel halted his advance and stood at parade rest, his feet apart, and his hands locked behind his back. “Are you the miscreant who’s been harassing my daughter?”
“No,” Brian sobbed. “I swear. This is all a mistake. I didn’t do anything!”
“So let’s go clear up those mistakes,” Helmsley said.
“You can’t question him here?” the colonel asked. “You may use my office.”
“Brian has already agreed to go with us. He’ll come quietly. Won’t you, Brian?”
Flanked by the deputies, Helmsley led Brian out of the kitchen. The investigator refused to answer questions. Janine followed the group to the rear entrance of the east wing, then stood in the doorway and watched until they drove away. She considered Brian weasely and socially inept, but found it difficult to envision him locking her in the garage and setting the building on fire.
Not daring to believe her problems with Pinky were over, she accompanied her father to his office. Like a shadow, Daniel followed. The office was large and airy, with a window offering a view of the forest.
Daniel moved close to the glass-fronted weapons safe that displayed the colonel’s collection of shotguns and rifles. Some were antique war weapons, but most were the weapons the colonel used in competition shooting. A shel
f next to the safe displayed dozens of trophies, plaques, medals and ribbons the colonel had won for marksmanship.
“Is Brian our culprit?” the colonel asked.
“Many stalkers begin their careers with petty crimes,” Daniel replied. “Homicide profilers consider setting fires part of the triad.”
“Triad?”
“Common traits in the childhoods of serial killers. Bed-wetting, fire setting and cruelty to animals and smaller children. Erotomanic stalkers share similar traits. I’ll ask Helmsley about the ladies’ underwear. It might have to do with the B&E the sergeant told us about.”
“B&E?”
“Brian was arrested for breaking and entering when he was fifteen. Looks like the cops found some other incidents.”
“Why wasn’t I informed of this, Janine?”
“I didn’t have enough information.”
“Why not? It’s your job to know who works for us.”
Janine bristled. Bad enough her father decided to blame her for the fracas in the kitchen. To chew her butt in front of Daniel infuriated her. “I don’t give out top-secret clearances.”
“Didn’t you check references?”
“Of course I checked references! I always check references. What do you want me to do? Hire a private eye to verify applications?”
“Perhaps your policies need review.”
Her policies? His policies! “In the past eight years I’ve hired hundreds of people! Other than some minor incidents, which I might remind you are no worse than any of the stunts some of your soldiers used to pull, you’ve had no complaints.”
Daniel cleared his throat, loudly.
“Stay out of this!” she snapped.
She searched her father’s implacable face. He always held her to a higher standard than he demanded of anyone else. He never cut her any slack. Ever since she’d confessed her troubles with Pinky she’d felt his blame in countless little ways.
“You blame me for Pinky, don’t you? You think I encouraged him. That I hired him on purpose.”
“All I am saying is, perhaps it is time to review your hiring policies and make adjustments—”
