Body Contact

by Rebecca York

  It wasn’t until she was standing beside the dresser naked that she remembered that someone could be spying on her.

  With a grimace she started to grab her clothing and dash into the bathroom. But it was already too late for that. Resolutely, she stepped into a clean pair of panties, then a bra.

  Two minutes later, after pulling on a sequined T-shirt and black shorts, she shoved her feet into sandals and started out the door toward the spa.

  JACK ROUNDED A BEND in the path and saw the white mansion sprawled in the sunlight like an enormous wedding cake.

  He walked rapidly past some of the inevitable gardeners and up to the French doors where he and Maddy had entered the night before.

  As he approached, a uniformed guard snapped to attention.

  “Mr. Reynard has asked you to come around to the front door,” the guard informed him.

  “Where we left last night?”

  “Exactly.”

  Jack thanked the man, then took the path around the building. Sunlight flooded through the high windows of the entrance hall as he stepped inside, to be greeted by yet another employee—this time a formally dressed butler.

  “I hope you won’t mind waiting for just a moment, sir,” the man said, directing him into a small sitting room.

  He had just turned to take a seat when he saw Don Fowler step out of one of the larger rooms.

  He and Reynard shook hands. He could tell that Fowler hadn’t seen him as he strode out the front door, his step springy.

  Son of a bitch! So Reynard had booked more than one appointment this morning.

  The butler approached him and spoke. Reynard looked up, spotted Jack and smiled.

  “Come in. Come in. I’m so glad you could make it.”

  Jack kept his expression untroubled as he followed the other man into the television room where they’d had their interview the evening before.

  “Sit down. Can I get you something? Coffee? A Bloody Mary?”

  “Well, I don’t drink anything alcoholic so early in the morning.” As he accepted a cup of coffee, he didn’t add that he’d already consumed enough of the stuff to keep him on a caffeine high for hours.

  Leaning back, he said, “I see you’ve already had a morning appointment.”

  “Well, I do have to keep my options open.”

  Jack took a sip of the coffee he didn’t want.

  “I’m sure I can offer you a better deal than Fowler.”

  “Perhaps. But that might depend on your definition. I have plenty of money, so I don’t always make my business decisions strictly on a profit motive basis.”

  “You can never have too much money,” Jack answered, keeping his voice neutral.

  “To be blunt, you have something I want. And getting it could be a major factor in our working relationship.”

  Jack didn’t speak, didn’t move a muscle.

  “Maddy, your lady, is very charming. Very desirable. You know I have a sexual interest in her.”

  Jack set down his coffee cup with a thunk on the glass-topped table. “She belongs to me.”

  “I’m not asking you to leave her here. I’m asking to enjoy her favors while she’s on the island.”

  “I don’t lend her out.”

  “Not when a simple favor to a friend can mean millions of dollars in your pocket?”

  Jack pretended to consider that. Then he said in a deliberately mild voice. “I have a little trouble with the thought of another man touching her.”

  “I was prepared for you to say that. And I admit that touching her has quite a bit of appeal. But what about another alternative? One we might share—so to speak.”

  Jack raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “Have you ever thought about how…stimulating…it would be watching another woman make love to her?”

  Jack swallowed, considered several answers and discarded them. He knew damn well that watching two women make love was a top-five male fantasy. He’d entertained the fantasy himself when he’d been a teenager.

  Reynard smiled, continued. “We could have a nice private session. Wouldn’t it be exciting to see her with a really beautiful woman—a woman who enjoys her own sex as much as she enjoys men. There’s nothing more captivating than watching two beautiful females together, giving each other pleasure.” His voice turned husky. “I mean seeing one of them take the other’s nipple in her mouth, swirl her tongue around that aching tip while she rolls its mate between her thumb and finger. Then she slides her lips down her partner’s body, finds her hot core and brings her off with her lips and tongue.” The man’s eyes were bright, his face slightly flushed, and it was obvious he was enjoying the vivid description. “And there’s always the educational factor, of course. You can learn so much from watching them stimulate each other. Who but a woman knows better what gives another of her sex pleasure?” He made an expansive gesture with his hand. “If Maddy’s a novice with female partners, she doesn’t have to do any of the work. She can just lie back and enjoy having an expert bring her to a deep, rocking climax.”

  Jack pressed his hand flat against the sofa cushion. It was a struggle not to leap across the space that separated him from Reynard and smash his fist into the man’s smug face. The idea of Maddy with another woman made his stomach knot. But he managed to stay where he was—barely.

  “What happens afterwards?” he asked, hearing the dangerous edge in his own voice. He hoped Reynard would mistake it for excitement.

  “Well, I assure you, you’ll be hard as a lead pipe by the end of it. You can work off your head of steam with Maddy. And I can enjoy the other lady. I have someone perfect in mind. Her name is Calista. Her mother was from Jamaica and her father was from the mainland. He had some Native American blood. The combination was very fortuitous. Calista is stunning; she’s got a wonderful body, and she enjoys having fun.”

  “You’ve provided her services to other guests, I take it?”

  “Of course. Usually, it’s the guest who elects to screw her afterwards. And I enjoy his lady.” He spread his hands. “But if you feel more comfortable sticking with your own partner, I understand entirely.” He crossed his leg, clasped his hand around his knee. Probably his pants were binding him at the moment.

  “I sense that you’re a man of strong sexual appetites,” Reynard went on. “But being brought up in the land of puritanism, you might have felt constrained to follow conventional patterns in the past. That’s not necessary on Orchid Island. Really, I cultivate a very uninhibited atmosphere here, both for myself and my guests. I can provide anything you want. I mean anything. If you’d like a stunningly beautiful girl to join you and Maddy in bed this afternoon, you have only to ask. And if you feel that Maddy has been a bad girl, and you’d like to experiment with some interesting forms of punishment, then I’ve got a facility you’ll want to see.”

  “What kind of facility?”

  “A very realistic dungeon. Would you like a tour? Some of my guests go there first thing on arrival.”

  “Yes, yes I would like to see it,” Jack answered, ruthlessly ignoring the feeling of pressure building in his chest. He was stalling for time, of course. Because sooner or later he was going to have to give Reynard an answer to his earlier proposal. But perhaps he could make it look like he was so excited by all the tantalizing prospects that had been laid on the table that he was having trouble deciding which to pick.

  Reynard inclined his head, studying Jack for a moment before standing. “Perhaps I’ve hit on one of your secret desires. Let’s go have a look at my playrooms. If you want to bring Maddy down there, you can use the equipment yourself. Or you might want to watch someone else working her over. A man or a woman. Your choice.” He paused. “Or you might like to practice on some other woman—or a man.”

  “I’m not interested in men,” Jack snapped, fighting another wave of revulsion.

  But Reynard must have caught the flash of something ugly in his eyes.

  “I didn’t mean to offend,” his host sa
id quickly. “I’m only trying to explore every option. Orchid Island is a place where anything you can imagine can become reality.”

  “Yeah.” Jack pushed himself to his feet, struggling to keep an expectant look on his face as he followed Reynard out the door and down the hall. He was thinking about how to slip his mind into neutral gear so he could endure the tour without throwing up.

  JUANITA HAD TOLD HER to come back, Maddy thought as she stepped into the spa. But getting her nails redone so soon might look suspicious.

  The hairdressers were busy with other guests, so she asked about the other services available, hoping the woman did more than nails.

  She’d mentioned to Jack that she might get a facial. Now she thought, why not? It would keep her here for a while. So she’d entered the dressing room and exchanged her shorts and top for a light pink robe. Then she’d let the receptionist show her to a cubicle that overlooked a lushly planted patio.

  As she settled into a padded chair that reminded her of the dentist’s office, she decided that she didn’t have to stick with questioning Juanita. She could try to get information out of any of the women here—if she kept the questions indirect, the way she had yesterday.

  That goal proved elusive, however, when she tried to start a conversation with Sarita, the attendant giving her the facial. Either Sarita spoke minimal English, or someone had warned her not to talk to Jack Craig’s woman.

  She hoped it was the former explanation. Because the implications were chilling if she was being talked about at the spa. It meant that she’d drawn attention to herself yesterday. And that wasn’t good.

  All at once she felt trapped. The feeling intensified as Sarita said, “You must close eyes now. You no want this in your eyes.”

  It would look really weird if she backed out now, so she obeyed and felt small cups being placed over her closed lids. Then the woman began smoothing some kind of heavy goop over her face.

  “You wait twenty minutes,” Sarita said when she had finished.

  Maddy gave a small nod, but she felt frighteningly vulnerable. If someone wanted to hurt her, this would be the perfect opportunity.

  She forced herself to lie there in the recliner, eyes closed, trying to control her breathing and her tension. Finally, she heard the woman’s footsteps recede, and she let out a little sigh, then considered that Sarita might be standing in the doorway, still watching her.

  Her hands clamped over the armrests, until she deliberately eased the pressure and knit her fingers in her lap.

  Twenty minutes, she told herself. Only twenty minutes. Deliberately she went through one of the relaxation exercises that she used when she had the time. But it was hard to concentrate with the skin of her face tingling and her nerves stretched taut.

  She couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that someone was watching her. When light footsteps sounded again, her whole body stiffened, and she prepared to leap out of the reclining chair.

  “It’s all right. Stay still,” a low voice ordered. “I’m just coming to check you.”

  She sensed a presence bending over her. Then a hand closed over hers and she felt something being thrust into her fingers. A folded piece of paper.

  “Hide it,” the voice whispered.

  She tried to speak, but she could only make an inarticulate sound as she thrust the hand with the note into her pocket, hoping that if there was a camera in the room, the body bending over hers had hidden the note from view.

  In a silent rush of movement that stirred currents in the air, the person was gone. Eyes squeezed closed, she fingered the note in her pocket. Every cell of her body burned to know what it said, but there was no way to do it now. All she could do was lie there and feel the minutes drag by.

  She jumped when she heard Sarita’s voice again.

  “Let’s take that mask off you.”

  “Um.”

  “It feels tight, no?”

  “Um.”

  The woman gently peeled the hardened stuff off her skin. When the cups came off her eyes, she blinked. Somehow it was a surprise to see that the room looked exactly the same.

  “Your face feels good?”

  “Yes.” She took the mirror and inspected her features. As far as she could see, she didn’t look much different. Well, maybe her skin was firmer. And it did feel fresh and clean. But it wasn’t a treatment she’d pay for back home with her own hard-earned cash.

  Of course, there weren’t any beauty treatments that she paid for—beyond a basic haircut every few weeks.

  “What else can we do for you?”

  She glanced at her watch. “Well, I’d like to stay. But I think my guy is waiting for me back at the villa.”

  The beautician opened her mouth, then closed it again with one of those looks that said, “The customer is always right.”

  “Maybe later.”

  She hurried into the dressing room, then thought of the cameras again. So she slipped into a toilet stall. But she was still nervous about opening the note. So while she was unwinding a length of toilet paper, she managed to bend over and block the view of her other hand as she got it out of the dressing gown pocket.

  When she pulled up her panties again, she transferred the note to the elastic band. Finally, as she faced the row of lockers, she slipped on her shorts and covered the note.

  As she quickly stepped out of the locker room, she caught sight of Juanita staring at her. The woman met her eyes for a second, then turned quickly away, leaving Maddy no wiser than she’d been before. She didn’t even know if Juanita was the one who had given her the paper. All she knew was that she had to read the message as soon as she could—then somehow tell Jack what it said.

  Intent on that mission, she headed for the entrance. Just as she was about to escape into the sunlight, she caught sight of herself in one of the mirrors—and groaned. Her face might be glowing with mud-induced health, but her hair was still a mess from last night in the shower. She’d totally forgotten about her reason for coming here in the first place. What’s more, she knew that the woman she was supposed to be would never leave the spa with her hair looking like it had been commandeered for a parrot’s nest.

  So she took a breath, then turned and made her way to the front desk, smiling.

  “Sorry. I was so focused on getting back to my guy that I forgot all about my hair. Are the hairdressers free? Could one of them do a wash, dry and comb out for me? Something simple that won’t take too long. ’Cause Jack and I have plans.”

  “Certainly. We’ll be with you in just a few minutes.”

  “Of course. No problem,” she answered, just managing not to grind her teeth in impatience. The note that was still tucked into the elastic waist of her underpants felt like a hot poker against her flesh.

  JACK’S SKIN WAS STILL CRAWLING as he walked quickly along the jungle path. Hoping his disgust didn’t show on his face, he kept his eyes trained downward.

  Reynard had really gotten into a tour of his private playrooms, showing off various setups and equipment. As Jack had followed his host, it was all he could do to keep from making scathing comments about the man’s kinky sexual preferences.

  Then he’d felt himself cringing when he’d run into Jormo Kardofski down in one of the corridors. Kardofski had been dressed like a Roman emperor and had given Jack a wolfish grin—assuming they’d both come down there for some kind of fantasy role-playing.

  Upstairs again, he had managed to praise the facilities. At the same time, he’d put Reynard off for tonight by acting coy and saying that he needed more time to think about his options. He hoped he’d come across as a man who was interested in trying something new, but who had to work himself up to the good stuff.

  Unfortunately, he was now caught in a dilemma that made his stomach churn. The guy he was playing, Jack Craig, wouldn’t keep stalling forever. He’d welcome the opportunity for something different—particularly when it meant combining pleasure with business.

  On the other hand, there was Maddy.


  Oh Lord, Maddy.

  They’d come here with the understanding that they’d do whatever it took to free Dawn. But no way was he going to ask her to submit to the kinds of games Reynard had in mind. He shoved his hands into his pockets, balled them into fists.

  He had rounded a bend in the path when he almost tripped over one of the gardeners, clad in the usual green overalls. The man was squatting on the blacktop, weeding a section of flower bed.

  “Sorry if I’m in the way, sir.”

  “No problem.”

  “I’m at your service, sir.”

  Jack paused and gave the man a hard look. “At my service for what?” he asked.

  “Anything at all.”

  “Like what?”

  The man shrugged. “You tell me. I’ll be around if you need me.”

  “Thanks,” Jack answered, then turned away. What the hell was that all about, he wondered. Was the guy trying to trap him into something? Or was he running some kind of scam behind Reynard’s back?

  Either way, Jack was sure he wasn’t going to take him up on the offer.

  FIFTY MINUTES AFTER SITTING down to get her hair coiffed, Maddy was finally out of the spa. As she took the path back to the villa, she kept her senses tuned to the foliage around her.

  She thought she detected movement beyond the edge of her vision, but she wasn’t quite sure. So she stopped, pretended that she’d been attacked by an insect as she batted at the air around her head and uttered little distressed sounds.

  She made it look like the damn thing had gotten under her shirt, then lifted up the hem and reached for the note. It was in her palm by the time she had calmed down and started walking again. With her thumb, she unfolded the paper and looked down into her cupped hand, scanning the words as she moved along the path.

  The note said, “The girl is in the Dark Tower.”

  As she read the message, her heart began to beat faster. God, now what? The only person she’d talked to about “the girl” was Juanita. So she must have written the note. Unless someone else had heard them and was setting a trap. But even if the note had come from Juanita, it could still be designed to incriminate her and Jack!