by Jianne Carlo
“Terry found Su-Lin passed out last night. Her stomach had to be pumped,” Thomas interjected.
“I can’t believe there’s any connection with James and Emma. They were in Nice last night. In a hospital. I don’t see how they could’ve drugged her.” Logical reasoning didn’t prevent Terry’s stomach from dropping through the chair.
“What’s the interest on a five-hundred-million note, Geoff? Five cents on the dollar?” Thomas pointed out. “Greed’s a great motivator.”
“And I don’t trust Lockheed one iota. I’m for them being behind this.” Terry leaned forward, elbows resting on knees. “Let’s assume they are. How did they force Annika into claiming the interest? How do they plan on getting Su-Lin to cooperate?”
“Geoff, when James Skyped you, how did the conversation go?”
“Introduced himself. Said he had a friend who’d recommended the Glory, and he wanted to charter it for a Greek isle tour. I gave him your cell and told him to contact you when he firmed up his schedule.”
The sound of flesh slapping flesh made the connection static for a second.
“He asked for you, Terry, Terrence Gore, not Terrence O’Connor. I didn’t catch it at the time.”
“I’ve used mother’s surname since I left home. All my IDs are in the name of O’Connor. He phoned you about the charter and he also inquired about it at the Cap’s concierge desk. When I found out, I’d just encountered Su-Lin. I thought I’d won the lottery.” He shook his head. “Something stinks.”
Geoff heaved a sigh, and the sound carried hundreds of miles over airwaves. “Let’s wrap this up. I’ll start researching Annika’s will and the lawyer who handled it. I need shots of James and Emma. E-mail me as soon as you have them.”
“Where are you?”
“London. I’m in the middle of a classified situation. If you need me, I can fly in, but it won’t be easy. Keep me apprised of events.”
“Will do. We’ll touch base tomorrow.”
“Good.”
Terry hit speaker and silence engulfed the room.
Thomas refilled their crystal tumblers, and glass clinked on glass.
“We’d better head back. I’ve completely lost my appetite. We’ll take you up on spending the night, Thom. I want more of a plan in place before we go back to the Glory.”
“And Jean-Michel and I’ll join you for the cruise. You’ll need every eye on Su-Lin.”
“And Father? He’s not going to react well to your relationship with Jean-Michel. And when he hears of your planned move?”
“Right now it all seems trivial, especially in light of my planned surgery and the danger Su-Lin’s in,” Thomas said and kneaded the back of his neck.
Both men rose.
Terry trudged back to the conservatory, thoughts scattered, hands flexing and itching to connect with James’s pudgy jawline. Stars twinkled above the conservatory’s roof, and candles danced in a gentle breeze flowing from an open door. A throaty jazzy version of “Killing Me Softly” played, the chorus ebbing and flowing as the wind gusts changed direction.
“We put your plates in the barbecue’s warming drawer,” Su-Lin said and dabbed the corner of her mouth with a white napkin. “I’ll get them for you.”
“Sit, darlin’.” Terry curved his palm around her bare shoulders and exerted a slight pressure.
“What did Geoff want?” she asked and brushed her cheek against his forearm.
“To let me know he’ll join us on the cruise after all.”
“That’s good.”
“Jean-Michel and I are also going to come.”
“Oh.” She clapped both hands together. “I’m so glad. Is your head hurting, Thomas? You’re rubbing your right temple again.” She dropped the napkin on the table and said, “Sit. I’ll give you a massage.”
Moving to stand behind one of the wicker chairs, she patted the rounded edge.
“You have magic fingers.” Thomas dropped into the wicker. The white cushion covering the seat flattened and the material squeaked. Thomas closed his eyes.
Rolling her thumb pads in cadence, Su-Lin worked a vein throbbing at Thomas’s right temple. Thomas’s shoulders slackened, and he arched into her touch.
“Better?”
“Mmm, much. Thanks, honey.”
“You must show me how to do that, Su-Lin. Thom often wakes in the middle of the night with an aching head.”
Reseated, Su-Lin’s mouth curved, and she replied, “Of course, Jean-Michel, it would be a pleasure. It’s wonderful to be able to help.”
“Did you learn the acupressure from your mother?”
“No. Dad taught me how to do it when I was a little girl. He loved it, especially when I walked on his back.” Color stained her cheeks, and she batted her eyelids. “Terrence likes that too.”
Terry used oven mitts to extricate two plates from a stainless steel drawer underneath the barbecue. Mundane activity had settled his whirring thoughts, and he’d reached a strategic perspective. Interrogate, collate, and distract, in that order.
“I’ll switch to wine, Miche.”
“So, will I,” said Terry.
Jean-Michel filled three wineglasses with a rich, oaky Shiraz, and the smell of cassis and grapes imbued the cozy space.
“Sure you won’t join us?” Jean-Michel waved the green bottle in a wide arc.
“No, thanks.”
The aroma of charcoal-seared steak collaborated with the wine, and Terry’s appetite returned with retribution. Adrenaline spiked his prick. His hooded glance traced Su-Lin’s neckline, the slight hint of cleavage. Already deciding to forgo dessert, he cut into his rare ribeye and red juices flowed over the delft-patterned porcelain.
“Are you a vegetarian?” Jean-Michel asked.
A trace of hesitation had Terry holding his fork an inch before his mouth, and the cube of meat spat a drop onto his plate.
Su-Lin noticed, and she patted his knife hand. “It doesn’t bother me. I prefer this.” She waved at the garden salad on her plate, picked up a grape tomato, and popped it into her mouth.
Terry’s mouth quirked up at one corner; he winked and chomped into the steak.
To Jean-Michel, she said, “I’m not completely vegetarian. I do eat fish and seafood.”
“I seem to remember you having bacon-wrapped scallops the other night,” Thomas stated.
“Aunt Emma ordered that dish. I actually have a bad reaction to the nitrates in bacon, and I never eat it. ”
“What? You have a strange look on your face, Terrence.”
“Nothing, I’m just being paranoid.” He and Thomas swapped glances.
“You had to have your stomach pumped last night, honey. You can’t fault my brother for worrying.”
“I guess not.
“Don’t let your aunt bully you, Su-Lin.” The short rein on Terry’s temper almost dissolved, and he swallowed a mouthful of wine, working the liquid over his tongue. “You mentioned your uncle’s setting up a trust fund for you?”
“Yes, he’s very generous. He’s going to buy bonds in my name.”
Terry’s grip tightened around the heavy sterling silver knife, and his knuckles whitened. He cut Thom a corner of the eye glance. His twin’s chin dipped in an almost-imperceptible acknowledgment of the information.
Su-Lin chose that moment to slide her bare foot up his shin.
“Has James said when he’s going to do this?” His twin took up the momentary slack.
“I asked him about it, because of what I want to do with the gymnastics, and he said everything was in place.” She sipped her water, and her toes wriggled against the back of his knee. “All I have to do is go to the bank and sign some papers. If he’s recovered when we return to Nice, we’re going to do it before we start the cruise.”
When her foot reached the top of his thigh, all the blood in his body pooled into his groin. He carved a large square out of the beef and almost missed his mouth the minute her five toes squiggled and curved around his balls.
“Do you have your own lawyer, Su-Lin?”
Terry shot Thomas a beggar’s plea and dropped his gaze to the table, then looked up again.
A slow, wide beam spread across his twin’s mouth, and he mouthed the word “ring.”
“Yes. The one who handled my mother’s will, Mr. Finklestein. But he’s retiring. I know he’s sold the practice to a new man. I haven’t met him yet.”
Unable to take another second of her sweet torture, Terry slid his hand below the tablecloth, captured the arch of her foot, and slid his thumb over the sweet curve. Fricking hell, she’d reversed strategies on him.
“How did your mother die, darlin’?”
Her complexion paled; the salad fork clattered onto her plate, and she tried to slide her soft foot out of his grasp. He wouldn’t allow it and rubbed a thumb over her heel.
Blinking rapidly, she gave him a little nod, swallowed, and fidgeted with the knife for a few moments. “One of my regular customers at the boutique where I worked was a doctor, and she offered to examine Annika. Dr. Lowel said my mother was clinically depressed and she prescribed drugs, not sleeping pills.” She shot him a narrow-eyed glare. “For a while there, Mom was doing so much better. She’d started to eat on her own and even talked about coming to my graduation.”
Terry covered her flexing toes with his palm and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Angry, but needing to give her support, he stroked from heel to toe, a slow, repeated caress.
“I went to a gymnastics meet in Springfield, a town about twenty miles away. When I came home, she was cold. I think she died in her sleep, at least I hope so.”
“And that’s when you discovered you had an uncle and an aunt?” Thomas asked.
“Yes. I was so surprised when Mr. Finklestein’s secretary called me with the news.” She lifted a shoulder, and this time, when her foot slid out of his clasp, he didn’t stop her. “They’ve both been so kind. I was in the middle of finals, and Aunt Emma and Uncle James sorted through Annika’s stuff, organized the realtors, and sold the house.”
“Dessert?” Jean-Michel asked as he placed their empty plates in the center of the table. “A cheese plate? Or my Thom’s favorite, chocolate-covered strawberries?” He eyed Su-Lin’s blush and winked. “To go, perhaps?”
“Come, darlin’,” Terry said and pulled Su-Lin up. “Chocolate, strawberries, and whipped cream to go. Let’s take dessert to our room.”
His little aphrodisiac recovered quickly, he thought, as she pasted a bright smile on her face.
“I’ll leave the heater on for the pool. Whipped cream tends to lead to a midnight swim.” Jean-Michel waggled his inky eyebrows, his blue eyes twinkled, and he mugged a leer. “Here. Berries and whipped cream.”
His twin’s lover had a tendency to babble when embarrassed, Terry realized. His mouth twitched as he accepted the two dessert bowls.
“Where are you putting them, Miche?” Thomas draped an arm around his lover’s shoulder, and he brushed a kiss on the younger man’s temple.
“Goddess suite, I think. All those mirrors should make things very interesting. And it puts enough space between us. If your brother is half as vocal as you…” Another eyebrow jiggle, and Jean-Michel’s full mouth crooked at one corner.
“This way,” Thomas said and swatted Jean-Michel’s tight ass when he wriggled it suggestively. “Follow this impudent fellow.” He pushed Jean-Michel forward.
Jean-Michel and Thomas bade them bonne nuit when they arrived at an ivory set of double doors framed by an intricate latticework pattern. Terry guided Su-Lin into the room.
“He wasn’t kidding about the mirrors,” Su-Lin said as she turned her face to the mirrored ceiling. “Or the goddesses.” She twirled, spinning on the ball of her foot and pointed to the left.
A full-length nude painting of Aphrodite filled the wall in front of her. She reclined, one knee bent, the other leg stretched the length of a chaise longue. A translucent blanket draped across her pelvis almost hid the faint image of an ivory banana-shaped dildo barely discernible beneath the covering. The image reflected in myriad mirrors spaced at strategic angles throughout the cavernous room.
“Oh, my,” she said and edged forward, toes curling into the carpet.
Terry captured her hand and traced her finger around the curved protuberance. “In ancient Greece, ivory and marble were the choice materials for dildos. And they fashioned them larger than life.”
“I can see that. Is there such a thing as too big?”
“A woman’s vagina can accommodate any size. Think of where a baby comes from, darlin’.” His arms encircled her waist, and he dragged her sweet rump against his erection and rubbed a `broad circle. “I am so on fire for you, Su-Lin, and that little foot-in-the-crotch massage under the table during dinner has me at the brink. You’re becoming very adventurous.”
“I have all these images in my head. Every time I close my eyes, I can see your wondrous weapon, smell you all smoky and spicy, and it makes me so breathless.”
“Are you up to this? Tell me the truth.” Shrugging out of the sports coat, he let the garment shuffle to the carpet.
Tipping her chin, up, he licked the seam of her mouth.
She opened for him, and a hot whisper fanned his lips. His hands raked the hem of her dress and slipped under her low-rise panties. She moaned, “Make love to me, Terrence.”
“As if I could resist when I have you to myself for the whole night.” He cupped a rounded rump cheek in each hand and squeezed. “The carry-ons are in the walk-in closet over there.” He angled his chin to the right.
“Is that a hint? Do I need a shower?”
“I thought you might need the bathroom, wench. That was my attempt at subtlety.”
“Oh. Actually, I’d like to wash my face and brush my teeth.”
“Go to it,” he said, spinning her about and giving her a light smack on the behind.
As soon as the bathroom door closed, he went to work, lowering the lights, lighting every candle in the room, and clearing a space in front of the stone fireplace. Someone had already prepped the inner hearth with kindling and logs, and a couple of flicks of his lighter started a shimmering blaze. He found the remote, searched for a romantic love songs channel, and set the volume to a background hum.
He heard the click, caught the light streaming onto the carpet, and finished scattering cushions on the blanket he’d lain down. Turning to face her, his lungs stammered to a halt at the sight of her. Standing in the doorway, pink cheeks evidence of a thorough cleaning, hair cloaking her nude body, she looked pure and innocent and shy.
An overwhelming longing to simply hold her forced his feet into action, and he had his arms wrapped around her lithe, muscled body in seconds. She lifted her face and he kissed her, a quick peck on the lips.
“Do you know how precious you are to me, darlin’?”
“I am?” Emerald eyes widened, she cupped his jaw and rubbed her thumb over his lower lip. “I feel as if I’ve known you all my life, like there’s nothing I can’t tell you. You make that little hole in my heart stop aching.”
He whispered, “Never doubt you’re safe with me, Su-Lin. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Never again.”
“What’re you saying?”
“I want you to be extra careful with your food and drink from now on.”
She giggled and cupped a hand over her mouth. “What am I, royalty? Are you to be my royal taste tester?”
Not wanting to alarm her, he chuckled. “Something like that.”
He nuzzled her nape, suckling her flesh, branding her his. Angling his lips, he pressed his tongue into her mouth. She tasted of rich after-dinner chocolate, and he found a dollop of warm sugar and rested on the spot, eating his way to her lower lip.
“You snuck a chocolate, didn’t you, darlin’? I’ve seen your secret chocolate stash on the Glory, that little Belgian selection in the bedside table.”
“Uncle James gives me a box once a week.”
That took him aback, and he schooled his features into neutrality.
“Terrence?” She tickled his chin. “Where are you?”
“How many people know you’re a chocoholic, besides me?”
“Only you and Uncle James.” She fingered a button on his linen shirt. “Why?”
“I want to be the only one giving you presents, darlin’.”
“That’s easy, because except for my relatives, you’re the only one who’s given me any presents.”
Scooping an arm under her knees, he lifted her high against his chest and strode over to the blanket. Laying her on the soft fleece, he slipped a cushion under her head and sat back on his haunches. “You’re so beautiful, Su-Lin, and you’re mine, all mine.”
Propping on one elbow, her mouth curved. “You’re the beautiful one, Terrence O’Connor, and if I’m yours, then you’re mine.”
She had no idea of the inherent truth in her words.
“Ready for dessert?”
“Chocolate?”
“Of course, chocolate-dipped strawberries and whipped cream.” He reached behind, picked up the two bowls Jean-Michel had given him earlier, and deposited them on her stomach.
“Cold,” she squeaked and fell back onto the cushions.
“Open,” he said, dipping one berry into the cream. “Bite.”
Red juice spurted in a thin line down her chin and settled in her dimple. Terry dipped his head and licked her silken skin clean.
“You have on too many clothes,” she whispered and nipped his earlobe.
“And you’re not wearing enough,” he said, unable to prevent a broad grin from claiming his lips at her raised eyebrows and widening eyes. Reaching under a cushion to the left, he pulled out a box wrapped in soft white paper.
Her lips quivered, and she raised glistening green pools, long black lashes fluttering rapidly. “Another present? Why?”
He almost didn’t make out her questions, she spoke so softly. “Because,” he said, lifting a shoulder, the lump forming in his throat making swallowing impossible. “Open it.”
Shifting the bowls off her belly, he helped Su-Lin into a sitting position.
