Northern Rebel: Daring in the Dark

by Jennifer Labrecque

  “That’s not very flattering.”

  Liam shrugged, unrepentant. “Sorry, but that’s just calling it what it is. I’m stuck with Tansy. It’s the way we roll, as Dirk would say.”

  Liam continued. “Making the buttons was a dumb move on Lars’s part, but it was a desperate move. For God’s sake, don’t pretend to feel anything for him that you don’t. In the end, that doesn’t do anyone any good. However, his heart will always be yours for the taking.”

  And without further comments or pleasantries, he headed for her door. His hand was on the knob when Delphi spoke. “Thank you for coming.”

  “I came for Lars. My brother’s hurting. I didn’t come to plead his case. I came to give you the facts, so you can make an informed decision.”

  “I didn’t want him to fall in love with me.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You didn’t have any more control over it than he did. And trust me, if we could choose who we fall in love with, don’t you think Tansy would’ve done better? I’m not exactly a lovable guy but my wife sees something in me.” He grinned and shook his head. “I’m one lucky son of a bitch while she got the short end of the stick. But it is what it is.”

  Her mouth was still sort of gaping over him saying that Tansy wouldn’t have voluntarily fallen in love with him. Maybe Liam wasn’t so bad after all. But he did scare the hell out of her. He didn’t have Lars’s slight outrageousness.

  Liam’s little talk cast a whole different slant on Lars’s button campaign. He hadn’t been trying to humiliate or ride roughshod over her. Well, maybe he was trying to ride roughshod a bit, but it was because he would always approach a problem with ingenuity. The man thought outside the box. That was what it took to defuse bombs. And to sweep her off her feet. He was the kind of man who would love her for the rest of his life whether she ever came to her senses or not.

  They’d have to talk about that toilet seat. There was a lot they needed to talk about. But as he had very wisely pointed out, and she’d been too scared to listen, talking could take care of a lot of things. If that was the case, then he was the master handler, because he could certainly talk.

  And what she had to do now had never been clearer.

  * * *

  SO, THAT HAD BEEN a bust. He’d been across the street talking with the Native guide Clint Sisnuket when he spotted Delphi coming in from the clinic. One look at her face had said it all. His button campaign was a fail.

  It was more than a fail. She wasn’t just angry—she was humiliated. It was a calculated risk, which had ended badly. Hell, maybe he needed to slip Rooster a C-note to put on Delphi, since his odds now appeared greatly diminished. As Merrilee had pointed out, he was running short on time.

  Not much got him down, but he was pretty damn down. Dirk heralded him from the front entrance into Gus’s, waving him to come over. Lars shook his head and went into the B&B. He just wanted to hang in his room. He was as much a lovesick fool as Dirk.

  At least if he was in his room, Delphi would be on the other side of the door. Granted, she wouldn’t talk to him, wouldn’t see him, but at least he could sit on the other side of the damn door, feeling her presence.... He was pathetic. Love was pathetic. It sucked.

  Delphi wanted to get all bent out of shape and accuse him of changing the rules on her. What the hell? He’d just been looking to sleep with her and have a couple of laughs. He damn sure hadn’t expected to fall in love.

  But his ship had been torpedoed the moment he boarded the plane and saw her sitting there. Direct hit. And with every day, every kiss, every touch, his ship took on water. By the time he realized it, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do. His ship was sunk—by a little blonde spitfire.

  He closed his door and stretched out on the bed. She was quiet, but nonetheless he heard her moving around next door. He was sort of drifting, trying to clear his mind, when her knock startled him into an upright position.

  No doubt she wanted to give him hell about the button campaign. He really was a poor bastard that he’d rather have her bitching at him than not have any contact with her at all.

  Pa-the-tic.

  “Come on in.”

  She opened the door and stepped through. She had on the dress she’d worn to Liam and Tansy’s wedding. And on the right side of her dress, where the strap met the bodice, she’d pinned on one of his buttons.

  He fisted his hands at his sides to keep from reaching for her.

  “Hey, you.”

  “Hi.”

  “So, I see you picked up a new fashion accessory.”

  “Yeah, it seems to be all the rage. Apparently a whole lot of people are smarter than I am.”

  He took a step toward her. “Woman, it’s not that you lack brains—you’re just misguided sometimes. That’s why you need me to tell you what to do.”

  “Is that a fact?” She deliberately took a step forward, encroaching on his territory.

  “It is.”

  “Well, I think the terms have to be renegotiated,” she said. “I get to be the squad leader half the time.”

  “A third. You’re smaller than me.”

  “Half.”

  He couldn’t stand it any longer. He put his hands on her waist. “You drive a hard bargain, Blondie, but okay, half.”

  She slipped her arms around his neck, linking her hands at the top of his spine. Her touch sent a shiver through him.

  “I love you.”

  Her words sent his happy meter soaring. He grinned. “I know. I’m the one who told you.”

  “Oh, yeah.” She rested her head against his chest and he nuzzled her head. “You know there’s a whole lot we don’t know about each other. And a lot that has to be worked out.” She leaned back and looked up into his face.

  “Yep. But we’ve got the main points covered.” Speaking of main points, he slid his hands down her back and grabbed her delectable ass. “You love me.”

  She made a pouty face. “Well, let’s not forget that you love me, too.”

  He slid the dress strap off her shoulder and blazed a trail of kisses along her skin. She smelled good and tasted even better. “That was never the question, Blondie.” He nipped her.

  “There is one other point while we’re negotiating, Marine.” Oh, hell, he knew what was coming. Sure enough she reached down between them and palmed his dick. Yep, she was bringing out the big guns by handling his big gun. “That toilet seat—”

  “I’ll work on it.” She’d nag him relentlessly. He’d just have to distract her. “So, the button campaign wasn’t a total wash.”

  “Has anyone ever told you you talk too much, Marine?”

  He chuckled and shifted, bringing her hand into harder contact with his dick. Hey, if she was going to handle his equipment, far be it from him to complain. “As a matter of fact, there’s this hot little blonde chick I met on a plane—”

  “Lars—”

  “Yeah?” They were going to have so much fun...for a long time.

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  * * * * *

  Jennifer LaBrecque

  Daring in the Dark

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Excerpt

  1

  HER HEAD DROPPED to his shoulder, but still she watched the mirror. She knew not to look away. Every time she stopped looking, he stopped touching...and his touch drove her crazy. And yes, watching in the mirror made it so much more intense, so much hotter. His fathomless eyes met hers in the reflection. Her, on his lap, her back against his chest, her legs spread. He reached between her thighs and his long fingers parted her, opening her to his touch and his pleasure. His fingers were dark against her
bare, pink flesh, sliding into her yawning, hungry portal...oh, yes...felt so good...please don’t stop...watching...wanting...oh, almost there....

  The shrill ring of the bedside phone shattered the moment, pulling her out of the dream. Her body tight, her thighs wet, Tawny groped for the phone. “Hello.”

  “Were you napping?” Elliott said, his normally cheery voice sounding just a bit forced. Of course, she could just be transferring the tension that lingered from being poised on the brink of orgasm in her dream. Or it could be Elliott criticizing her, which seemed to happen more and more frequently. It was almost like spending time with her parents.

  “Hmm.” As an event planner for a group of Midtown attorneys, her hours weren’t nine to five, Monday through Friday. “Last night was the cocktail party for that German client, remember? Then the partners had a lovely working breakfast at six-thirty this morning. Just what I wanted to do, crawl out of bed at four-thirty on a Saturday. Anyway, there’s no sin in an afternoon nap.” Intense sexual arousal and guilt lent her voice a husky note. “Did you work very late last night?” Elliott invested incredible hours in his art gallery, but it was paying off with a growing reputation and clientele.

  “Late enough.” He sounded uncharacteristically terse.

  Maybe it really was just her. She was wound so tight and ached so badly she wanted to cry. Or come. She should laugh, confess to her husband-to-be that she’d just been having the most awesome dream sex and that she still desperately needed to come and ask him to help her out.

  Once upon a time she would’ve thought laid-back, easygoing Elliott would get off on a round of afternoon phone sex and talking her into an orgasm. But she wasn’t so sure anymore. Lately he’d been neither laid-back nor easygoing. And what if somewhere along the way she revealed he wasn’t the man spreading her thighs and leading her to ecstasy in her dreams? And what if the man she’d agreed to marry “till death they did part” couldn’t pick up where the dream left off and get her to that magical place?

  He continued and the opportunity was gone. “I thought I’d come over after the gallery closes this evening.”

  “That’s fine as long as you bring dinner and we stay in.” If he called this late in the day, she sure wasn’t cooking. Elliott was more into clubbing and being seen than she was. A quiet night at home suited her.

  “Staying in works. I wanted to talk to you.”

  Tawny propped up on her pillow. She and Elliott talked often, but when someone announced they wanted to talk... “What?”

  “It’s too complicated to go into over the phone.”

  “That’s a lousy thing to do. Bring it up and leave me hanging.”

  “Sorry. But let’s leave it till tonight.” It wasn’t her imagination. He definitely sounded strained.

  “Okay...” Sex. It must be about sex. Of course at this point her brain was one-tracking.

  “Thai sound okay?”

  “Sure. You know what I like.” Elliott couldn’t possibly miss her flirtatious innuendo. Maybe he’d initiate a little phone sex without her asking.

  Elliott cleared his throat, as if her teasing left him uncomfortable. “Um, yeah, I’ll pick up chicken curry.”

  Nix the phone sex. “Chicken curry sounds good.”

  He cleared his throat again. He was either nervous or coming down with something. “I thought I’d bring Simon along.”

  Her hand tightened on the phone even as her internal temperature slid up the sizzle scale. “Simon?” She licked her suddenly dry lips and rolled over onto her belly. “Why would he want to come to my apartment? He’s avoided me like the plague ever since the photo shoot. He obviously dislikes me.”

  “He’s a busy guy. I don’t think he dislikes you. Simon’s just...”

  “Dark. Brooding. Cynical. Intense. I think that about covers it.” And sexy in a shiver-down-her-spine, her-head-needed-to-be-examined kind of way. But that didn’t seem the most prudent observation to make about her fiancé’s best friend.

  Elliott laughed and Tawny was thankful it didn’t bother him that she obviously rubbed Simon the wrong way. Sometimes she wondered if Elliott didn’t prefer it that way, but she’d dismissed the notion as unworthy of Elliott.

  “Simon’s just Simon,” he said. “Can he come, too?”

  Could he come? She grew wetter still, her whole body flushing and her nipples pebbling harder. Intense, brooding Simon, with his faint British accent, had been the one in her dream.

  “Tawny?” Elliott prompted on the other end of the line.

  She squirmed on the hard mattress. “No. I don’t mind if he comes.” Simply saying it aroused her even more. Guilt and shame fed the dark lust Simon inspired in her on a nearly nightly basis. Now it was getting even worse—she’d only taken an afternoon nap. He was her fiancé’s best friend, he despised her and every night he was the source of soul-shattering sex in her dreams.

  “We’ll see you a little after nine, then.”

  She hung up and closed her eyes. Why was Simon coming with Elliott? Why the three of them? What would they do?

  With her body strung tight and humming with arousal, a dark fantasy bloomed in her. The three of them, here in her bedroom. Elliott, golden haired and fair, Simon, dark. Two sexy men intent on touching and tasting every inch of her, all with the singular purpose of pleasuring her.

  She blinked her eyes open and reached into the drawer of her bedside table, pulling out her vibrator. She couldn’t go through the afternoon this way.

  Elliott was her fiancé. He was funny and generous and warm, most of the time. She might not have control of her dreams, but she was wide-awake now.

  Despite her best efforts to focus on Elliott, it was Simon she came for as she shuddered her way to an orgasm.

  * * *

  “You look like hell,” Simon Thackeray said as he carefully placed his camera case in an orange vinyl chair in Elliott’s inner sanctum and sat in the matching chair.

  Blond, good-looking, outgoing and possessing a sense of style that always left him looking as if he’d just stepped off the pages of GQ, Elliott turned heads in a crowd. A girl in college had once likened the two best friends to Apollo and Hades. They were foils in both looks and personality. Elliott, sunny and outgoing, Simon, dark, quiet, withdrawn. But Elliott had sounded weary and worried on the phone when he’d asked Simon to stop by. He didn’t look any better than he’d sounded. “What’s going on?”

  Elliott perched on the edge of the stainless-steel desk and swung one leg. “We’ve been friends a long time.”

  Simon nodded at the obvious. They’d met in a photography class in junior high, where they’d discovered a shared love of art and a friendship that had weathered the years. Elliott had thrown out a lifeline that saved Simon from drowning in his own loneliness. Conversely Simon had anchored Elliott, provided him with some much-needed stability. Elliott’s parents were warm and outgoing, but volatile.

  He wasn’t so sure he would’ve pursued a career in photography if Elliott hadn’t believed in him and pushed him. And Simon had provided invaluable contacts when Elliott had decided to open a small gallery.

  “You know you’re the brother I never had,” Elliott continued. “I’ve always thought I could tell you anything. Share anything.” Once upon a time Simon had felt the same way. Until he’d discovered that there were some things you couldn’t share with your best friend. Like being in love with his fiancée. “I hope you’ll always be my friend.”

  Simon sighed at Elliott’s penchant for melodrama. If Elliott hadn’t parlayed his art-history degree and eye for art into owning a gallery, he could’ve given Broadway a run. “Elliott, unless you’ve ax-murdered a little old lady, I’m going to always be your friend.” Simon shrugged. “I’d probably be your friend even then. Why don’t you just tell me what this is all about?”

  “I’m gay.”

  “Right.”

  First Elliott had called him in and gave him the big friendship spiel, and now he was fooling around when
Simon had a photo shoot scheduled in forty-five minutes. Elliott had a warped sense of humor and a piss-poor sense of timing.

  Elliott knotted his hands together. “This isn’t a joke. I’m serious. I’m gay.”

  Simon sat, stunned. Elliott was...gay? How was that possible? They’d been best friends for over a decade. Simon was the odd straight guy in a profession that attracted homosexuals like a homing device, yet he’d never once suspected Elliott of anything but blatant heterosexuality.

  For God’s sake, Elliott was engaged to Tawny, slept with her on a regular basis, and he’d just announced he was gay? “When...how...?”

  “Perhaps bisexual is a better estimation.” Elliott ran his manicured hand through his short blond hair. “I’ve found myself increasingly attracted to men over the last several years.” He shook his head and offered a harsh laugh lacking in humor. “Don’t worry. Not you.”

  Quite frankly Simon could give a toss if Elliott was attracted to him or not. Well...maybe he was a bit relieved Elliott hadn’t professed undying love or lust for him, but he’d definitely missed something along the way.

  Simon clearly recalled the first time he’d seen Tawny. It’d been here in the gallery, outside Elliott’s office. Simon had dropped by during a private event—a cocktail party and private viewing Tawny had arranged for her company. She’d been engrossed in an animated discussion with the caterer. One look at her and his world had shifted into sharper focus. Then she’d disappeared and he’d sought out Elliott, intent on discovering who she was, only to learn Elliott had beat him to the punch. Before Simon had opened his mouth, Elliott had announced he’d met his dream woman and arranged a date with her. Intuitively Simon had known it was the same woman. And he’d been right.

  “What was this six months ago when you told me you’d just met the woman of your dreams?” he asked.