Double the Pleasure

by Julie Leto

“What do they mean?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “You picked the numbers because they’re related somehow, right? What was it? Your combination in high school?”

  “Give me some credit, Grey. I wouldn’t pick something so obvious after being ripped off the first time. The combination is the ages I was each time my mother bought a house in the United States. I was seven when she purchased the cottage in Virginia, where we lived during the summer while she was on Broadway. I was sixteen when she bought the beach house in Malibu. We lived there during a theater run and movie shoot. I turned twenty-five just before she bought the house here in New Orleans.”

  Damn, but the woman did have a complicated mind, didn’t she?

  “So your mother might have been able to figure out your combination?”

  Reina laughed aloud. “Pilar? My mother can’t remember her own telephone number. Or the real year she was born.”

  “What about her maid?”

  This time, Reina paused. “Dahlia might remember the years we lived in the States, but how would she guess I’d form those into a combination for a safe? How would anyone guess that? Besides, I only used numbers associated with homes we purchased. We lived here several times in hotels.”

  “Still…” It was a long shot at best, but he had nothing else to go on.

  “Let’s say Dahlia is either psychic or possesses a brilliant criminal mind. Why would she steal from me?”

  Grey shook his head. He didn’t have answers to either of those questions, but he did now have a lead to follow, sketchy as it was.

  “You trust this woman?”

  “Dahlia? She was the one constant in my childhood. My mother hired her shortly after I was born. She’s more than just a maid. She’s Pilar’s right hand. She raised me.”

  “So you told her things, confided in her.”

  Reina’s mouth dropped open slightly and Grey ached at the expression of horror that briefly crossed her face. But she shook the disbelief away and waved her hand at him. “Dahlia has no reason to steal. My mother pays her very well, and she has no real expenses. My mother buys her clothes, takes her to exotic places. Not to mention that Pilar has left Dahlia a considerable portion of her estate in her will. If she betrayed me like that, my mother would cut her loose without a backward glance. She’d lose everything. The jewels that were taken weren’t equal in value to what she stands to gain financially from my family.”

  Reina’s argument made sense, but Grey decided to investigate further. He’d already decided to run extensive background checks on every artist and employee involved with Reina’s gallery. He’d just add Dahlia to the list.

  “You’re right,” he said, attempting to reassure her. She probably didn’t need the distraction of considering that a longtime family friend had possibly betrayed her. “I’m just grasping for straws. I’ll let you get back to work.”

  With a quick coolness Grey knew now to be finely honed, she dismissed him and his suspicions and returned to her work. He closed the panel and bounded down the stairs, hooked his cell phone to his computer and dialed into his favorite search engine for background checks, requesting the basics first—social security numbers, last known addresses, employment records, credit reports. Using Reina’s ground line, he ordered a case of cognac for an old college buddy who worked for Interpol, arranging to have it delivered immediately to his flat in London. Most of Reina’s associates had European connections. He’d need Richard’s resources. He winced when quoted the price, but figured even such a steep charge would be worth the investment. Particularly when he solved Reina’s mystery and won her undying gratitude.

  But until then, he’d have to find more basic ways to get under her skin. Starting tonight.

  REINA GLANCED UP at the hidden skylight, aware that the last few rays of the sun had fallen beneath the horizon at least two hours ago. She hadn’t brought a watch into the workshop, but guessed she’d been working steadily for at least five hours. To show for it, she’d reconstructed the mold for one of il Gio’s rings, an exquisite sapphire that, according to his diary, he would wear to town to secretly inform Viviana that he intended to sneak into her bedroom that night but that he’d be in disguise.

  She’d also laid out her plans for the restoration of a single crescent moon earring, centered with a pearl, which the jeweler would also wear for Viviana. This piece, highlighted by a long, removable chain and clasp that would attach to his penis, his scrotum, his nipple—anywhere Viviana chose—was worn beneath his clothes whenever he attended a social event with his wife, an intimate reminder of to whom he truly belonged.

  The final creation had been relatively simple to reconstruct, but still had taken Reina the bulk of the afternoon. The design was intricate and had piqued her curiosity on so many levels that she’d consulted not only il Gio’s designs and published diaries, but also scoured Viviana’s memoirs for her personal reference. Though Reina had experimented with various sexual aids and toys, she’d never tried anything like this one, even if they were popular today.

  However, she remained completely certain that none of the sex toys available on Bourbon Street matched il Gio’s in both functionality and beauty. Fashioned in pure gold. Weighted by rubies she’d reset in the original carved ivory pendants. Softened by kid leather. That part had almost kept her from completing her project since the fabric il Gio saved had withered long ago. Then she’d remembered the gloves she’d bought last winter in Aspen, and after a desperate search in her cedar chest, she’d been back in business.

  Despite the ache pressing between her shoulder blades and the crick in her neck no self-delivered massage could break, Reina couldn’t suppress her need to try on this particular design.

  But she wasn’t wasting such decadence on herself, not unless Grey was there to help her experience the full effect.

  She found him in the kitchen, cooking.

  The aromas of piquant andouille sausage, garlic, onion and green pepper assailed her nostrils and made her stomach growl. “You weren’t kidding about that way to a woman’s heart thing, were you?” she asked, heading straight toward him and his sizzling skillet.

  He leaned across and retrieved a bowl of beaten eggs. “I don’t kid about important stuff.” With a practiced flair, he poured the egg into the pan in a long, golden stream. “Have a seat. I was going to bring this up to you.”

  “Culinary and considerate, too,” she murmured, briefly turning her gaze to him.

  “My brother isn’t the only jack-of-all-trades in our family. Are you done for the day?”

  Reina paused. Technically, the answer should be yes. Despite her use of her magnifying system, her eyes ached. And her fingers were stiff. Under normal circumstances, she would have treated her work-induced strain with a shot of bourbon and a long bath. But beneath her bra, her breasts strained for the pleasure il Gio’s chains, clamps and jewels might give. Her pulse pounded with a potent mix of curiosity, lust and excitement.

  And deep down, in a part of Reina’s heart she rarely heard from, she acknowledged that she would never have entertained the notion of testing the piece she’d reconstructed if Grey hadn’t become her lover.

  “Not quite. One of the pieces I fashioned today is a little complicated. I was hoping to get your…opinion.”

  Grey’s gaze, previously focused on flipping the omelettes, caught hers. “Let’s skip dinner.”

  “You’ll need your strength,” she said, attempting to erase the sound of triumph in her voice.

  Rounded with surprise at first, his eyes narrowed, then he grabbed two plates and served. “We’ll eat fast.”

  Reina laughed, pouring the red wine he’d set out with equal speed. Though they both did indeed wolf down the delectable omelettes and large goblets of cabernet in record time, she doubted the giddiness she felt as they dashed up the stairs hand in hand had anything to do with alcohol. The capricious wave pushing her into her bedroom, allowing her to ignore the ringing phone without a second thought, was stirr
ed by her need for Grey.

  A need for sexual pleasure? Yes, she acknowledged as he disappeared into his guest bedroom, no doubt to set the security system and retrieve a condom. But she knew it was also more than that, more than she’d ever previously been willing to admit to herself. After reading Viviana’s account of using this particular piece for the first time, Reina now knew what she wanted from Grey.

  And she intended to get it.

  He appeared in the doorway just as she whipped her T-shirt over her head.

  “Mind if I watch?” he asked.

  “Actually—” she popped the top button of her jeans “—no.”

  He crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned a muscled shoulder on the doorjamb. The pose stole her breath, reminding her of his size, his power.

  “Where do you want me, then?”

  She kicked off her sandals. “On the bed, of course. You might want to get undressed first, but get beneath the covers.”

  “I’m not ashamed of being naked,” he reminded her.

  “You have no reason to be. But to do this experiment correctly, we need to take our time.”

  He strode across the room, dispensing with his shirt and jeans in quick flashes of fabric. “Whatever you say, chère. You’re the boss.”

  She lifted her brows, surprised at his assumption that she wanted to be in charge. Then again, she shouldn’t be shocked, should she? Only last night, she’d struggled with handing over the control of their lovemaking to him. If not for his skilled mouth and hands—and her unexplained need to trust him—she would have balked at allowing him to set the pace and call all the shots. But the result had been more pleasure, more freedom, than she ever dreamed a man could give her, particularly when wrapped in chains.

  Speaking of which…

  She lifted il Gio’s creation from off the dresser, wondering if he’d have any idea what it was from this distance.

  “Oh, I don’t want to be the boss tonight, Grey.”

  He’d climbed beneath the covers and was propping pillows against the headboard when her claim caught his attention. He turned and narrowed his gaze, his perplexed look sending a naughty thrill across her skin.

  “What is that?”

  “The piece I’d like to try out.”

  Skepticism in his eyes warred with the expectant grin on his lips. “What does it do?”

  She turned, retrieved Viviana’s diary and tossed it to him from across the room. “Open the book to the page with the red ribbon. Read it aloud. We’ll find out together.”

  10

  GREY WAS NO FOOL. He did as he was told. Despite the instantaneous yank of his cock to sharp attention, he caught the book and turned to the right page. In the meantime, she sashayed across the room, dimming the overhead light and clicking on the lamp beside her bed.

  “Something to read by,” she said.

  He silently nodded, but still had trouble focusing on the handwritten words on the page. Ah, hell. He’d forgotten his glasses. But where?

  With sensual grace, Reina dipped down on her knees, retrieving the wire frames from the pocket of his discarded shirt. She stood, stretched her leg over his lap and crawled atop, placing the glasses on his nose herself.

  She rocked her hips, snuggling her panties against his bulge beneath the sheet. He couldn’t feel if she was wet, but the look in her eyes alone told him she was ready. Knowing all he could do right now was wait caused him to groan with a strangled combination of passion and impatience.

  “Power turns you on, doesn’t it?” she surmised.

  He noticed that while he was engaging the security system from the control panel in the guest room, she’d painted her lips with the red gloss he loved on her. Realizing she’d added the detail for him, his mouth dried.

  “Power turns everyone on.”

  “Some women like to be submissive.” She adjusted his glasses with a light, erotic touch.

  “And others just toy with the concept,” Grey guessed, wondering exactly what she had planned and how far she’d be willing to go. “You can’t be submissive, Reina. It’s not in your nature.”

  Her eyes betrayed a hint of surprise. “You don’t know me that well.”

  “Sweetheart, a man only has to be in your presence for ten seconds to know you’re the type who wants to be in charge.”

  She answered with a delicious shimmy of a shrug. “I wasn’t in charge last night.”

  Oh, now he got it. “And you liked that, didn’t you? More than you expected. Maybe so much more that you’d like to try again? Raise the stakes?”

  “You have to ask?”

  His chest filled with pride. He’d given Reina Price, the seasoned seductress, a fresh thrill, a novel sexual experience. Now she wanted more—and the gold and chain contraption she’d showed him had something to do with her new fetish.

  Grey was game, of course. But he wasn’t about to lose this opportunity, either. Reina wanted something special. He’d give it to her, but he needed his quid pro quo.

  “On one condition.”

  Her eyes flashed with surprise. “Always the negotiator?”

  He answered her insight with a shrewd grin. “Wouldn’t you be disappointed if I wasn’t?”

  She slipped her hands around his neck. “What do you want?”

  “Answers.”

  “About the robberies?”

  Her indignant look nearly caused him to laugh. Instead, he licked his lips, then did the same to hers. “What robberies?”

  She nodded in understanding. “You don’t mean answers, you mean confessions.”

  “Such an intelligent woman. And sinfully sexy.” He nibbled her shoulders and neck, groaning as the flavors of her skin whet his palate for much, much more.

  “I’m a very private person, Grey.”

  He tugged aside the thin strap of her bra and placed a kiss along her collarbone. “Your…responses…will be completely off the record.”

  He didn’t bother to hide the wicked glint in his eyes and was impressed when she matched his iniquitous expression with one of her own. “And the whole of New Orleans thinks Zane is the wicked twin.”

  “Suckers, aren’t they?”

  He traced the scoop of her bra with his tongue, pausing above her nipples to dip deeper and swipe the sensitive nubs. As if he’d jolted her with pure electricity, she shot back and climbed off the bed.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’ll regret it. We both will. Okay, I’ll accept your terms. You give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you want. That’s what our affair has been about from the start, hasn’t it?”

  Grey held his tongue, acknowledging his agreement with a small nod. She was right, of course. Up to this moment, their affair had simply been about sating their mutual desires and nothing more. When he’d taken over Zane’s life, he’d thought that’s all he wanted. Hedonism at its finest. Pleasure and play without having to hide, without having to fear the repercussions. Zane’s persona was both accepted and ignored by the public, since they expected nothing less than scandal and sin. Oh, it’s just Zane, having another meaningless, naughty liaison instead of Good God! Grey Masterson likes to have sex in limousines!

  If only they knew. If only Lane had had the insight to realize that it hadn’t been the limousine that turned him on, but the mask of privacy the tinted windows and moving car had provided, one with eyeholes to the world, openings from his isolation. He’d always hated having to rein in his emotions, control his reactions and urges simply because he was the “good” twin, the “responsible” one, the one everyone counted on to keep the business afloat and respect the family name and reputation.

  But Reina? She understood. With her, he had the best of both worlds. Unlike any other woman he’d ever met, she guarded her privacy like a fierce Amazon protecting her queen. She wrapped herself in a cloak of jaded sexual power, daring men to try and amuse her, knowing they’d invariably fail. She counted on her air of mystery to keep everyone, including him, at arm’s length.
Last night, he’d proved his inventiveness. And arm’s length wasn’t good enough for him anymore.

  He’d been inside her once and the sensations had awakened more than just his libido. He’d be inside her again, but, this time, they’d transcend the physical.

  All he had to do was figure out how that contraption worked and make sure he used it right.

  REINA EASED OFF Grey’s lap and returned to the dresser. What did he want from her? What kind of confessions? What sort of answers? She wondered if he realized the depth of what he’d asked for, and suspected he did. The man possessed a wealth of insight into who she was, possibly because they had so much in common. But she couldn’t think about that now, could she? She’d wanted this liaison tonight to be about pleasure, about risks, about trying something she’d never tried before, but she’d foolishly expected the evening’s experiences to be limited to the physical, the sexual. She should have guessed Grey would find a way to raise the bar.

  She faced the mirror, twisting her arms behind her to remove her bra. Lifting the chain by the tiny clasps she’d softened with cutouts from her gloves, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the moment, the here and now.

  She watched Grey read silently in the mirror’s reflection.

  “What has Viviana to say about this contraption?” she asked.

  He glanced up. “Haven’t you read it?”

  “I skimmed. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

  He laughed and turned back a page. “Come here,” he demanded.

  Good start, Reina concluded. She spooled the chain into an old velvet-lined case that used to hold the pearl necklace someone had given her years ago. She’d tossed the single strand into her lingerie drawer without a second thought, knowing the design she’d struggled to recreate all afternoon deserved a better home than a foam-lined metal attaché. After kicking off her panties, she joined Grey on the bed, the flat, rectangular box set between them.

  Grey’s eyebrows seemed to stay in a permanent position of surprise.

  “Wow,” he said, his gaze darting back and forth across the page. “Your Italian jeweler put a lot of forethought into his seduction, didn’t he?”