by Lyn Stone
"Well, don't start now," he warned playfully, but when she tensed a little, he backed off and looked down at her, trying to gauge whether she was uncomfortable with this. "Second thoughts?"
She looked a little sheepish. And adorable. "No, it's not that exactly. But we should have some kind of understanding. Don't you think?"
"Spell it out," he said, beginning to cool off considerably.
"No strings?" she said hopefully, toying with his chest hair.
Ryan exhaled with relief. But he also experienced a twinge of regret that things had to be this way. And that she actually wanted them to be this way. He placed his hand over hers. "Had strings before?" he asked.
"Could we not trade war stories?"
He smiled and raised her fingers to his lips. "Let's not trade anything but our bubble gum, okay?"
She nodded, her eyes closed, her lips so enticing he had to taste them again. This time he delved deeper, letting his mind fog with pleasure, shoving the past into the dark recesses of his mind. No war stories. No memories. Just this sweet obliteration of everything but the hot urgency sweeping through him.
Her wordless sounds of encouragement drove him faster than he meant to go. He had to touch, to claim the soft firmness of her breasts, slide his fingers under that silk to discover what lay beneath.
Lost in mindless need, he tugged at buttons, hooks, zippers and fabric until she writhed beneath him as she was meant to be. He felt her hands on him, frantically pushing his shirt off his shoulders. He shrugged out of it, lifting himself off her to yank at his belt. Already her fingers were at his waist, shoving down his pants and briefs. He kicked them off and pressed himself full-length against her, reveling in the feel of skin to skin, heat to heat.
Warn her to be still. Slow this down. Some rational part of his mind tried to interfere, but he ignored it. Instead he buried her mouth with his as he hurriedly ripped open a condom, sheathed himself and drove into her with a primal groan he couldn't suppress.
For a second the pleasure numbed him so he thought it was over. Then she pulsed around him, bringing him to life so quick and hard he gasped. He fought for control, the one thing crucial to a man who was any kind of lover. Dimly he realized he might never be where he was again and wanted to stay there as long as humanly possible.
Holding her motionless with his body, he willed himself to focus on her face, to brush the softness of her cheek, her eyebrow, her ear with his lips, to deny the almost overpowering demand to withdraw and thrust again until they found release.
"Tease!" she hissed through gritted teeth and managed to shift her hips.
"No," he growled, more in denial of her demand than her accusation, but he knew he had lost this battle even before it began. "Damn you."
Still he tried to delay, to make it last until she reached the mark. Sweat ran down his forehead into his eyes. Breath burned in his throat. Need to end this beat like an incessant drum in his lower body.
His concentration grew so labored, she took him by surprise. The rapid, tight contractions of her body triggered a reaction he'd never before experienced with anyone.
Ryan surrendered every effort at control and plunged heart first into a pleasure so mindless it took on a life of its own. Again and again he stroked in and out, shifting angles, seeking more of her to claim. To know.
Her cry erupted as she tensed around him again and he poured into her with everything he was and wished to be. His senses, so absorbed in the sound, sight and scent of her, sharpened to nearly painful clarity.
Like brands, he felt each of her fingers that grasped his lower back, the short crescents of her nails a glorious pinch of reality.
Every nuance of her voice invaded his mind and carved out a place to live. Their combined essence drifted around them, incense for the gods. Stetson, sweet peaches and sex.
He drew in a deep breath, yielded to whatever had possessed him and just held her close, not knowing, not even caring what would happen next.
Chapter 9
Nina feigned sleep. No way was she about to ruin this interlude with Ryan by talking. At least not now, when she was floating in a state of euphoria. No telling what she might say.
She didn't have to be a genius to figure out that he would regret it now that the heat was spent. She regretted it probably more than he did. No, any words they might say to one another right now would probably escalate into the granddaddy of all fights.
Exhaling a long sigh of contentment, she allowed her body to remain a boneless heap of satiation and tried to make her mind lapse into nothingness.
Her busy brain wouldn't cooperate. The fact that he was lying half on top of her with one of those biceps resting comfortably beneath her breast and the rest of him damp against her side didn't help matters.
The overpowering urgency with which they'd come together almost scared her, though she certainly hadn't minded at the time. Would she ever in her lifetime find anyone to approximate what he had made her feel?
Ryan threw himself into lovemaking the way he did everything else. One thing for sure, she'd had his full and undivided attention for the duration. She was no short recess for Ryan. She was more like an extended lunchtime when he was starving. No woman could resist loving that.
Well, she had allowed this to happen for one reason only—to find out whether her feelings for him were all lust and no substance. At the moment, her regard for him felt pretty substantial in all quarters. She could love this man. Would love him if she didn't watch out, maybe did a little already. She still wasn't clear how he felt about her, except that he seemed to resent whatever those feelings were.
While she was lying here in this condition, it would be easy to tell herself, and him, that they could not let anything like this happen again while she was here. It would be a mistake to take things any further. He was not the kind of man she wanted to love and, for some reason of his own, she obviously was not the woman he considered Ms. Right.
They would both be better off to cool it, to consider this a convenient sexual encounter and let it go at that. But she simply didn't want to talk about it right this minute when she felt so heavenly.
He eased farther from her, as if trying to get up without waking her. To facilitate that, she rolled away from him and snuggled down into the puffy feather pillows.
Fine. She wanted him to go. If he stayed on the bed, who knew what would happen? She knew. That long, muscled body of his all hot against her was bad. Bad for her peace of mind. Bad for her dwindling determination. And oh, so bad for her attempt at remaining physically satisfied.
A few seconds later, she felt him drape something over her. Though his footsteps were inaudible on the deep, plush carpet, she knew he had left the bedroom. There was a quiet snick of the door handle as he closed it behind him.
Nina indulged herself in a long, heartfelt sigh of regret. A tear escaped and she raked it away with the back of her hand. Damn him. The least he could have done was be a selfish lover. Instead, he had been perfect. Incredibly generous, giving, masterful and tender even while he demanded and took everything she had to give. Now how the devil was she supposed to forget something like that?
* * *
In the sitting room, Ryan pulled on his slacks and padded barefoot into the other bedroom. This one was laid out the exact opposite of the one where Nina was sleeping, he noted absently as he headed for the bathroom. And it contained fewer frills.
He turned on the tap, splashed water on his face and glared into the mirror. "Fine mess you've gotten us into now," he growled to his reflection, running his wet fingers through his hair. He leaned over and ran cold water over his head.
Just as he toweled off, he heard the discreet chimes of the bell. Yeah, this was exactly what he needed right now. Company. No shirt, no shoes and bleary-eyed from mind-numbing, heart-stopping sex. Do come in, whoever you are.
He strode through the bedroom and sitting room to answer the door. Through the peephole, he saw it was only one of the bellhops wit
h a luggage cart. He unlatched the door and gestured the guy inside. "Just leave the bags here. I'll take them to the rooms." Ryan pulled out a couple of bills and tipped him.
Alone again, he went over to one of the formal-looking sofas and flopped down, waiting for the grief and remorse to wash over him and obliterate all the pleasure. Waited for them to tense him up and give him that queasy feeling he always had after indulging his hunger with a woman.
Angst. Discontent. Guilt. Where were they this time? Oddly enough, none of them materialized. Even when he sat there expecting them, ready to embrace them like old acquaintances that kept turning up like clockwork, they never came.
He still felt good. Weary as hell, but incredibly peaceful and right. Unbelievable. For a long time he just sat, empty of everything but stillness and gratitude. He almost felt like laughing at his unexpected metamorphosis.
Had his father gone through this? Did that explain why the man had married again while Ryan's mother had hardly been dead a year?
The thought had just popped into Ryan's mind, surprising him. He'd never considered that before. Why now? Maybe Nina reminded him a little of his feisty stepmother. Aggressive and yet vulnerable. Refined and yet sexy. Independent. Beautiful. Yeah, there definitely were comparisons there, even though they neither looked nor sounded anything alike and Trish was at least fifteen years older.
Had ol' Dad fallen in lust and been unable to help himself? Or had he simply grabbed the first woman who didn't make him feel like he was betraying the love of his life?
Ryan's gaze strayed to the phone, just within his reach. No, he couldn't call. He had hardly spoken to his father in almost seven years. A brief stilted call at Christmas just for form's sake, that was all. Honor thy father. Lasted all of three minutes, at most.
Their estrangement worked, though. His father didn't need any reminders of the grief he had left behind, and Ryan didn't want to rehash his resentment. Funny thing was, that resentment seemed petty all of a sudden, useless. So what if his dad was happy with someone else? What did it matter?
The question wouldn't get out of his mind. Had Dad gone through this? How had he justified happiness with another woman? And that woman's children? Ryan suddenly felt very alone. His feelings binged around like the steel sphere in a pinball machine.
Nina had done that to him. His life had settled into a routine of work and sleep and more work. It had given him a reason for being, a schedule for survival.
He picked up the phone and dialed, holding his breath, hoping no one would answer and that would be that.
" 'Lo?"
Ryan cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "Dad?"
"Ryan? Ryan, is that you?" His father's voice lit up like someone plugged in the Christmas lights. It always did, Ryan realized, kicking himself for all the years he hadn't noticed.
"Yeah, Dad, it's me. How you doin'?"
"What's the matter? Is something wrong, son?"
Of course he would ask that. It wasn't Christmas. It wasn't time for the duty call. "No, Dad, nothing's wrong. I...I just wanted to say hi."
"Well, hi, yourself! Boy, this is a treat, y'know? Trish and I were just talking about you yesterday, wondering what the weather's like over there in your paradise this time of year. Said to her I bet you were tan as all get-out, soaking up all that sun. You used to be a regular beachcomber."
"Yeah, it's great here, Dad. Weather's good. I hit the beach now and then." He paused, bolstering his decision to make nice. "How are Trish and the kids?" Ryan thought his stepmother's children must be teens by now. He'd never seen them and didn't want to. He only hoped they had replaced some of what he had ruthlessly snatched away from his father.
"They're all fine!" his father crowed. "Asleep right now, of course."
Ryan smacked his forehead and laughed. "Oh, God, I forgot the time difference. Sorry if I woke you."
"No, no, don't be sorry. Jeez, it's good to hear from you, son. You sure nothing's wrong?"
Ryan hesitated. "Can you talk, Dad? Is she... is she listening?"
"Nope, Trish's sound asleep. I was watching the late show, dozing a little. Touch of insomnia." The enthusiasm had cooled a little, replaced by wariness.
No point in putting this off, Ryan thought. This was an overseas call and it was the middle of the night there. "Dad, when you and Trish got together, did you... How did you deal with... Did you forget about Mom?"
There was a long silence without even the usual static. Then his father's voice held a note of comfort Ryan remembered so well. "I could never forget her, son. Not ever. No one, especially not Trish, would ever expect me to. Your mother was one of the finest women who ever lived, Ryan. But Trish is another one of those. If you would just give her a chance—"
"I will, Dad," Ryan promised quickly, wishing he'd never phoned. Wishing he could terminate this call immediately without hurting his father any more than he already had.
"Son, is this about Trish and me, or have you met somebody? I've prayed you would, but—"
"I'll call you again soon, okay?"
"Ryan, Kathy wouldn't want you to suffer the way you have on her account. I know that sounds trite, but —"
"I have to go, Dad." Ryan rubbed his hand over his chest. It ached like his lungs were seizing up.
"Sure, sure, I know you do. Look, I'm not meddling, honest, but—"
"Right now I can't say any more." But he had to. He couldn't stop himself from saying it. "I love you, Dad. And... I'm sorry. Tell Trish for me. I mean it. Really."
He hung up before things got any more maudlin. Fiercely, he bit his lips together and blinked hard. Something had shifted inside him, leaving a vacuum. He didn't know what he would fill it with.
The door chimed again and he hurried to open it, ready for any distraction at all. He didn't even check to see who it was.
Lorenzo. "Greetings," he said, raking Ryan's bare chest and feet with an interested gaze. "Is the air-conditioning faulty?"
Ryan realized how he must look. He had pulled on his pants and zipped up, but the fastener was open and they rode below his waist. Without thinking first how it would appear, he shot a quick glance toward the closed door of the bedroom where Nina slept. "I was just about to take a bath."
Lorenzo smiled, following Ryan's glance with one of his own, looking very much like a wolf eyeing a herd of sheep. "Sweaty work, moving into a new place, eh?"
"What do you want?"
"Nothing at all. I stopped by to see one of the representatives from Thailand and decided to check on you while I was here. How is the investigation coming along?"
"I'm sure you already know as much as I do about it. Maybe more. Why don't you tell me?'
"Progress on that earring, I think," Lorenzo said easily, stepping past Ryan and making himself at home. "Definitely purchased within the last six weeks, because they were not available before then. Joseph has narrowed it down. You'll want to get the full report from him, of course."
"Of course," Ryan said, turning his back on Lorenzo for a minute, trying to avoid attention as he hitched up his trousers a couple of inches and fastened them. "Remind me to give Joe a raise for keeping the world so well informed."
"Good idea. How is our little Nina adjusting to the new surroundings?"
Ryan turned back around, his arms crossed over his chest. "She's resting. Last night was not conducive to sleep."
"I will assume you're speaking of the break-in." Lorenzo kept smiling, looking very satisfied with himself.
"This was your plan from the first, wasn't it?" Ryan asked him. "Throwing us together."
His grace had the grace to look shocked. "Me? The job is making you suspicious of everyone, my friend. Would I ever presume?"
"Yes, you have presumed before and it was all for nothing, if you recall. But never mind that now. Let's get back to the case."
"Sorry, but I have to go." Lorenzo strolled back out of the room and turned around in the corridor, a thoughtful look on his face. "Could I give you a
bit of advice?"
"No, thank you," Ryan said firmly.
"All the same," Lorenzo said, shrugging one shoulder, his smile even wider, white teeth gleaming. "If I were you, I would have someone daub a bit of antiseptic on those fresh scratches and not wear a French-cut to a public beach for a while if they extend to where I suspect they do."
Ryan fumed, but his voice remained calm. "Thanks. I will take that under advisement."
"You're quite welcome," Lorenzo said and strolled off to the elevator.
Ryan slammed the door. He hated being maneuvered. Even when it took him where he wanted to go.
Nina finally ventured out of the bedroom. She had heard voices, but hadn't wanted to show herself in the state she was in. When the door slammed, and everything grew quiet, she figured Ryan was alone again.
She was without makeup now and her clothes were hopelessly wrinkled. With any luck, she would be able to change before anyone other than Ryan saw her this way. "Oh, good, I see they've brought our bags."
Before she even reached them, Ryan had her two suitcases and was headed past her into the bedroom where they'd made love. "You can stay in here," he said. "I'll take the other one."
She pursed her lips and nodded, accepting that he had beat her to the punch, insisting they not share a room. So they had come to the same conclusion separately. Relief and regret hit her with a double punch.
When he returned from placing her bags in her room, she asked him, "So, do we talk about it?"
He studied her for a full minute, his face unreadable. "Do we need to?"
"I guess not."
"A mistake, huh?"
She shook her head and looked away, chafing her bare arms as if she were cold. To tell the truth, she was. "No mistake yet, but it could become one. For one of us, anyway."
He smiled, but it was without humor. "Which one, do you think?"
"Me," she said honestly. "I need more than you can offer."
"You're right. I don't have much."
She felt so offended, she wanted to slap him, but she doubted he would tolerate it. "I was not referring to money," she snapped.
