He flushed a bit, looking down at his filthy feet. "Big. Fourteen. Hard to find."
Candy smiled at that. "For a Concierge, nothing is all that hard to find."
She didn’t know if Brooke would follow her instructions to go take a shower. For a slave, he didn’t seem to be too good at following orders. But she wasn’t going to say anything else. She wasn't into giving orders anyway. She reached for the phone. "Concierge, please. Yes. Room eighteen-fifteen. Candy Nelson. Yes. Thank you. My companion has arrived without his luggage. He'll need a new wardrobe. I'll need a tailor in the morning. For tonight I need a few readymade items sent up…"
The sound of water running brought a smile to her lips. Brooke was stubborn, but not impossible. "American sizes. A forty-six long dinner jacket, dark, maybe charcoal, sixteen and a half thirty-six white dress shirt, thirty-six-thirty-six dress slacks, and a pair of Italian loafers, fourteen. I need personal things as well, including a man’s razor and toiletry set and a garment bag. We'll need a way to get things home, after all!" She thought briefly of the way those ragged shorts had hung on his hips as she answered the last question. "Boxers. Silk."
She made her first check mark on the list on the yellow legal pad…
*****
The Concierge had sent up new clothes. Brooke sat across from her now dressed in a dark charcoal suit, his white dress shirt open casually at the neck, his damp hair fanned out against the crisp, clean fabric. Everything fit well enough, though the tailor would be an improvement. Room service had come to spread a small feast over her table. So rather than eating, why was she studying Brooke's hands?
It shouldn't be hard to convince the Embassy he was just another traveler who'd lost his passport. Yet somehow Candy didn't think Brooke was too concerned about whether he looked the part.
She couldn't tell where he'd wandered off to, but she'd never felt more alone with a man, not even with Richard there toward the end. She felt the tension knotting in her shoulders. This wasn’t going well at all. The atmosphere in the room felt almost openly hostile.
"Candy, I…" Brooke's hand shook as he laid down the fork. Though he’d made it through the spring rolls and most of the vegetables, he’d barely touched the noodles and shrimp in the Pad Thai. "I’m sorry to waste your money, but I just don’t think I can eat any more of this."
Candy chewed on her bottom lip anxiously. "I love Thai food. It didn't occur to me that you might not like it, after living over here so long… I'm sorry. I should have asked."
His eyes focused on the floor again. "You don't need to apologize, Candy. It's not the food. It's me."
Him? What did that mean? He couldn't eat in front of a woman who'd paid for him? He'd eaten the vegetables. And the crackers. That made no sense. Unless—
"Oh, God. You’re a vegetarian, aren’t you?"
He offered a snort of derisive laughter. "No. I’m not a vegetarian. Poor people can't afford to be vegetarians, Candy. When you have nothing, you eat whatever you can find. I'm sorry. Everything's fine. I'm just not used to eating this much food anymore."
That wasn’t all that was wrong, and she knew it, but she didn’t want to add to the tension in the room. She laid down her fork and pushed her plate away. Taking a chance, she reached out to lay a hand over his. "Eat whatever you want, whenever you want to, Brooke. You can call room service any time. They’ll bill it to my account."
Gray eyes probed hers. "You throw your money around pretty easily."
Money? Was this really about money? "I have enough, and I don't mind spending it if there's a reason. Right now making sure you're not hungry seems like a pretty good reason."
The anger and resentment she'd sensed simmered closer to the surface now. "Why were you at that auction, Candy? You weren't there looking for me."
She laughed a little at that. "No. I wasn't looking for you. I was going to buy a China Doll at an Antique Auction I found advertised on the Internet. But the cabdriver didn't speak much English. He misunderstood where I wanted to go…and there you were."
Anger tinged his voice. "You didn't have to go in once you realized you were in the wrong place. You had no business in a place like that. This is not a safe place for a woman alone. You could just as easily have ended up on the block yourself. Without that cabdriver standing guard over you the whole time you probably would have."
Candy felt the flush rising up her cheeks. "I never even thought about that…"
Brooke laid his hand over hers as she started to pull away. He didn't grab at her. He didn't have to. His huge hand simply engulfed hers. A slight pressure of his fingers conveyed his message. He could be dangerous if he chose to be. His voice conveyed the same message. "Once you went in, once you knew what the place was, why didn't you leave? Why did you bid on me?"
She wasn't afraid of this man, Candy told herself. She wouldn't allow herself to be. Still, he deserved the truth. "I couldn't leave once I'd seen you."
Desperation tinged his anger. "Why?"
She swallowed the urge to spit out something caustic and turn away. She wasn't the one who'd been auctioned off today. He needed some sort of an answer. "I saw you before I could run. You looked... You didn't belong there."
He snorted at that, as if he thought it a poor joke. "Yeah. Right. I've heard that a lot the last two years."
"You're very handsome. Any woman would have looked. And that's probably all I'd have done. But then your eyes met mine, and I—"
His voice softened. "What?"
"I thought you—I didn't like the looks of that other man—the German who bought those women. Anyway, you looked at me like you needed help. You looked frightened. I thought you wanted my help. I thought you wanted me to bid on you, so I did."
Brooke picked up her hand and turned it over, running his calloused fingertips over her palm. The silence in the room became as troubling as his scrutiny of her hand. "I'm sorry, Candy. You're right. I was frightened, and I did want you to bid on me." He raised her fingers, pressing his lips against the base of her thumb. "What exactly do you want from me, Candy?"
The question caught her by surprise. "I—nothing."
"Everybody wants something." He glanced down at the suit. "People right across the border here live for a year on less money than you spent tonight. Why are you doing this? What's all this for?"
The clothes? He was upset about the clothes? "You can't run around naked."
He just stared. "There's some place you have to go that you can't afford to show up at alone."
She blinked at the intensity of his gaze. "Maybe I just wanted to help you."
He just kept staring at her, her hand still held captive in his.
Candy felt herself flush. "Maybe I was just after sex."
He gave a small huff of a laugh at that. "Right. Sex. With a man like me. Women like you don't have to buy sex, Candy."
"Women like me. Right. I'm just the woman every man dreams of. That's why I'm here alone."
He pulled her hand closer, raising it to his lips once again. Slowly, so that she anticipated every subtle nuance of the move, he drew her index finger into his mouth, running the tip of his tongue over the subtle ridges of her fingerprint, teasing, stroking, promising. Candy felt herself respond, almost against her will. If he could get her that wet just tasting her finger, there was no telling what he could do to the rest of her body.
As he released her finger he tugged gently on her wrist, and Candy eased out of her chair, moving to stand before him. She draped her free arm over his shoulder, letting her fingers untangle his damp hair. He just sat there staring at her, and she began to think she’d misread him again, perhaps made another mistake. But at last his arms rose to encircle her, hesitant, then tightening to pull her down into his lap, crushing her against his chest. She felt something in his tough façade giving way. "No one could be as good or as naïve as you appear to be," he murmured.
"I’m not all that naïve, and I’m not totally selfless or altruistic either," Candy confessed
.
"What do you want from me, Candy?" he asked again, gentler this time. "What did you think you were getting for your fifteen hundred dollars?"
"I—nothing." She blushed. "It doesn't matter now."
"It matters to me. Was this just sex?"
Candy swallowed another denial. "Yes." But that wasn't true either. "No, not really. I—I didn’t want to spend Christmas alone."
"Christmas." He loosed his hold enough to meet her eyes again. He looked stunned. "I’ve lost track…when is Christmas?"
"Next week Tuesday."
His eyes fixed on hers, though his arms still held her captive. "That’s it? You don’t want to be alone over Christmas. That’s all this was for you? That was worth fifteen hundred dollars to you?"
It sounded so petty when he put it that way. She tried not to let her voice crack the way it did when she was going to cry. "Getting you out of whatever trouble you were in was worth fifteen hundred dollars. As for the rest, I wouldn't—I mean I've never— It’s just that Tuesday is my birthday."
Brooke never seemed to do much of anything in a hurry. He gave her plenty of time to pull away as he framed her face with his hands, but she knew even before he moved that he was going to kiss her again. It was there in his eyes. Pale gray eyes searching hers for understanding. Perhaps she should have objected. She wanted him to kiss her—wanted him to kiss her the way he had in the cab. But not just because he thought that was what she wanted. She didn’t…
Oh Lord. It didn’t matter why he was kissing her. His lips were soft and gentle and demanding all at the same time, and his tongue touched hers with the hesitant trip of a butterfly’s wing, then danced away, only to return stronger and more demanding. He let his hands drift down over her shoulders until they rested on her waist. "Just you."
His voice jarred her back to reality. "What?"
"There's just you? No friends flying in to join us over the weekend?"
How could he even think—suddenly she remembered the look on the German's face. That knot rose in her stomach again. "Just me," she promised.
"I can think of a lot worse jobs than keeping a beautiful woman entertained on her birthday." His voice sounded slightly amused now.
Right. A job. Well, that was what she had wanted, wasn't it? After all she was nothing to him. She wasn't young, or beautiful, or any of the things a man like that would look for in a lover.
Candy fought to try to regain her bearings. It wasn't as if she'd expected him to fall in love with her. But she was going to have to get rid of him fast before he broke her heart. She couldn't handle what he was capable of making her feel knowing it was just a job.
Tomorrow morning she would start trying to figure out how to get Brooke out of her life and back into his own. Tonight she was going to have to try to figure out how to sleep when he’d managed to get her more aroused with a few flicks of his tongue than she had been in all the time she’d lived with Richard.
Well, at least she didn’t have to feel guilty about that anymore. She was suddenly glad she didn’t have Richard to go home to. Whatever happened, she knew she would never settle for reliable but boring again.
She wanted all the things his kisses promised. She wanted passion, fire, a desire that threatened to sweep her away from her safe, ordinary existence. She wanted...
Common sense reared its ugly head. She had to break this off now, while she still could. Because if he touched her again…
He'd already touched her. Nothing would ever be the same again.
Candy studied the lines of Brooke’s face, wondering who he had been, before. He was young, younger than she was by perhaps a decade, but there were lines of strain around his eyes, and he looked worn. Sexy as hell, but tired. Well, she’d had a pretty long day herself, and no one had sold her to the highest bidder. "It’s been a while since I’ve looked at my life and thought about how lucky I am. People tend to take things like freedom for granted." She slid slowly off of his lap. "I’m going to get a shower. It’s been a really long day…" She looked over at the huge king-sized bed. "I wasn’t planning for two when I made the reservations."
Brooke looked up at her with eyes that asked questions his words couldn't voice. "Do you want me to sleep on the couch?"
She didn't have to think about her answer. "No..."
He captured her face once more, pulling her down for a kiss that made promises she couldn't afford to let him keep. She had to keep reminding herself that he was just doing his job. Still, she closed her eyes for a moment and tried to imagine a future where a man kissed her like this on a regular basis. Wouldn’t work. She’d never get anything done.
"Candy?" He really did have the most incredible voice. Low and deep and oozing with sex.
"Yeah?" Eloquent. Truly eloquent.
"We've got all weekend. No need to rush things. You’re falling asleep on your feet. Why don't you go get that shower."
"Will—will you be here when I get back?"
He laughed softly. "I'm not an idiot, Candy. There's no one else who wants me, or wants to help me. I get to choose between a beautiful woman and hiding in dark corners of alleys. I'm not going anywhere."
She should protest that somehow, she should—
"Okay." She dragged her body off toward the promise of steam that could never approach the heat of that kiss.
Chapter Three
A thin cry broke the stillness of the night..
Candy sat up with a start. She reached out, but the bed beside her was empty. The warmth of the body that had been wrapped around her was gone.
"Chung lai! Leave me alone!" A man's voice, the words sobbed out in panic.
Brooke. Yesterday came flooding back as Candy nearly tumbled out of the bed trying to untangle herself from the sheets.
"Di di! Go away! Di di!"
She didn’t have to know what the words meant to understand the terror in his voice. She found him huddled in a ball on the floor near the foot of the bed.
He cried out at her touch, shrinking away from her, his arms sheltering his head. "No! Da khong! Dung lai! Stop! Xin loi, xin loi—I'm sorry…"
She kept her voice pitched low and as non-threatening as she could manage. "It’s all right, Brooke. You’re safe now." Despite the warmth of the tropical night, he felt cold, so cold. He shivered beneath her touch. She reached blindly behind her to pull the trailing bedspread over them. He didn’t fight her when she wrapped her arms around him, he just curled up even tighter. She held on, trying to reach him through the fear. "It was a dream. Just a dream. You're safe now."
She held her body jackknifed around him, trying to give him as much of her warmth as she could. Gradually the knotted muscles beneath her stroking hands began to feel warm and alive again. The hard fought breath of panic lowered itself to a more even rate. Candy relaxed a little as she laid her cheek against his back.
"I’m sorry I woke you up." His voice sounded stiff and faintly embarrassed. "Go back to bed."
His skin felt flushed beneath her hands now. She wasn't trying to keep him warm anymore. Her hands stilled, but she didn't let go. God help her. She didn't want to quit touching him. "Come back to bed with me."
She felt as much as heard the sharp intake of his breath. "In a minute."
"Okay." She'd caught him vulnerable and out of sorts from the dream, and she knew it. She should leave him alone. She had promised herself just last night she wasn't going to do this, damn it.
"Candy?"
She trailed her arm down his side until her hand rested on his thigh. She felt his muscles bunch and tense again.
He twisted in her arms to face her, his voice strained and a little angry. "Candy, don't—"
Mesmerized, she let her hand slip lower. Her searching fingers found the heat of his rigid cock through the silk of the boxers that were all he’d slept in. He was as long and thick as she'd suspected. She couldn't seem to quit touching. But stroking was too much. Too aggressive. Men didn't like aggressive women...
H
e captured her hand, pulling it tighter, thrusting hard against her exploring fingers rather than shoving her away. "Don't tease me, Candy." There was a hint of warning in his voice.
Idiot! She screamed at herself. She pulled back like a child too close to the fire, her cheeks flaming crimson. "I'm sorry. I—I'm not very good at this. I never really learned how." It was true. A flaw Richard had pointed out often enough. "I'm sorry."
He caught her when she'd have rolled away across the floor, his fingers digging into her hips. "Don't play that game with me, Candy. It's been too long." His voice turned bitter again as he ran his fingers over the soft silk of her nightgown. "For a while there I actually thought you wanted me. I've always been pretty much of a fool around women."
Candy stared at him in the half-light, trying to read his shadowy features. Only the gray eyes searching hers were clearly visible. "I know what I want. What do you want, Brooke?"
Something changed in his touch, in his grip on her arms, in his eyes, steely now against hers. "I want to do more than touch you, Candy. I want to fuck you till you collapse on me, till my name is your last conscious thought."
Her heart leaped at the touch of his lips against hers. "What's stopping you?"
"Candy, I—"
She stopped his words with a kiss. His lips met hers, more than willing, aggressive now, as his arms tangled around her, pulling her close enough to feel his cock pressing against her, hot and demanding.
"That feels so good," she breathed as his fingers found her breasts through the slippery silk.
"Candy…" he breathed her name like a benediction.
She nipped gently on his bottom lip.
He bit back, and there was nothing gentle about it. His hands were everywhere, touching, exploring, stroking. "You can’t be real. This is just a dream, and I know it, but if I wake up it’ll tear me apart."
Candy rolled her head, exposing more of her neck to his probing tongue. "I’m real. I’m pretty sure I’m real."
"You even smell different. Everywhere. You smell like home." Apparently everywhere included the back of her ear. His hands were busy too, with one arm holding her head off the floor while his fingers stroked through her hair and the other hand teasing her left nipple into a state of almost painful awareness.
All I Want For Christmas Page 3
