Which was ridiculous when she and Nash had been lovers for years, had shared their bodies in acts so depraved they'd make Hugh Hefner blush. There wasn't an inch of Nash she hadn't explored, a part of him she hadn't tasted. He'd laid claim likewise to her, and yet Zoe knew tonight when they went to bed, it would feel like the first time all over again.
The mere idea sent a dart of heat straight to her womb. A tingly warmth licked her nipples and settled in her sex.
He replaced the handset, blew out a breath and passed a hand wearily over his face. Then he looked up and his startled gaze connected with hers.
Zoe smiled, resumed her trek across the room. "Hi, handsome," she murmured. His woodsy fragrance tickled her senses. She leaned forward, cupped his jaw, then slanted her lips over his. She kissed him slowly and deeply, shivered as his tongue rasped against hers. The heat that had stirred in her loins only moments before flared into an inferno that quickly melted her thighs. She decided she'd better stop now, before she got too carried away and couldn't.
She reluctantly ended the kiss. "Seems like you anticipated your part once again. You're supposed to be the lodge owner this weekend." She briefed him on the rest of the plan. "We'll finish prep work tomorrow. Once you've looked at the register and we've gone over the character profiles, we can organize our strategy."
"Sounds great," Nash murmured distractedly, seeming out of sorts. His gaze darted over her, lingering just long enough on her breasts and legs to flatter her. He tugged at the collar of his shirt. "You changed clothes, I see."
"Gad, yes," Zoe replied with a low chuckle. She'd felt like a little brown wren in that disguise-garb she'd had on earlier.
Zoe preferred classic black, and vivid colors. Reds, blues, greens and oranges, and occasionally a splash of white. She wasn't model material, but she made the most of what she had by accentuating the positive. Short skirts showcased a better-than-average set of legs, and colorful clothes compensated for her not-so-remarkable light brown hair and eyes.
Her somewhat flashy style wasn't for everyone, but she'd certainly captured Nash's attention, and right now those ice-blue eyes radiated enough heat to make any woman feel special.
Nash swallowed. "You look incredible. As always," he added hastily. "You, uh, always look wonderful." He swallowed again, seemingly embarrassed issuing the compliment.
Amazingly, Zoe felt a blush creep up her neck. Did she blush? Had she ever blushed? Why did this feel like such an anomaly? "As do you, thanks," she murmured, cast adrift in another sea of weird. She gave her head a small shake, then winced when it hurt.
"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned. "Do you need an aspirin?"
"No, I'm fine. Look, the reason I came down was to get your bags. Tell me where they are and I'll take them upstairs for you."
"That, uh— That won't be necessary. In keeping with the ruse, Melanie has already arranged with the owner for me to have his quarters."
Zoe frowned. Now that was odd. Melanie hadn't mentioned it when she'd brought up the issue of Nash's things. "That's funny. She didn't—"
"She just called a moment ago," Nash hastened to explain, evidently reading her line of thought. He gestured toward the phone.
"Oh. Well, okay," Zoe said, still somewhat befuddled. "In that case, I'll just go get my things. Where's our room?"
Nash froze and a peculiar smile curled his lips. "O-our room?" His voice held a strangled quality.
"Yes," she said patiently. "Our room. Nothing against Melanie," she confided, "but on the rare occasions our missions coincide, I'd rather have you for a roomie." She straightened. "So where is it? I want to get unpacked, then find something to eat. It's the oddest thing, but I don't remember having so much as a cracker today."
Nash mumbled something under his breath.
"What?"
A strained smile wobbled into place. "Let's get your things, darling, and I'll show you our room."
Zoe paused, laid a comforting hand on his arm. "Are you all right, Nash? Is something bothering you?"
He shook his head. "No. I just … I just hate that bastard Larson," he said heatedly. He pounded his fist on the counter. "We have to take him down."
Her brow knitted in confusion. "Larson?"
His startled gaze swung to hers and his eyes widened slightly. "Boyle," he corrected hastily. "I hate Boyle."
A wisp of something teased her brain, but it drifted away before she could catch it.
Nash rounded the counter. "Come along," he said briskly, herding her toward the stairs. "We've got a lot to do. A jewel thief to catch, bad guys to take down."
"Right," Zoe muttered distractedly, suddenly bewildered. Thieves and bad guys…
* * *
5
« ^ »
"Okay," Trudy told him. She peeked around him to make sure that Faith hadn't returned from the bathroom, then shoved a bundle at him. "Here are the first four books, as well as the audio versions." She peered up at him. "Do you have a Walkman?"
Lex nodded.
"Good," she continued, and breathed a small sigh of relief. "The tapes are abridged, so I've marked certain pertinent scenes in the books with mini sticky notes. Be careful with them, though, because they're door prizes. Hurry," she hissed. "Go hide them in your room, and be sure that it's a place where she won't find them." Trudy's expression turned grim. She flipped a book over and tapped the back cover. "I don't think she needs to see this. Who knows what sort of damage it might do?"
In his mind, Faith's smiling face looked up at him. She wore a bright red sweater, black leather pants and a grin that was sexy yet … strained. Those melted-caramel eyes were crinkled at the corners and glittered with warmth, humor and a hint of untold secrets.
All three got to him on a level that had no place in this ruse he'd chosen to participate in.
Though the lodge would benefit—and God knew it certainly needed it—he still had misgivings about the whole idea. To be totally honest, if he weren't attracted to her it might have been easier, might not have felt so sneaky, underhanded.
As it was, it did.
And to make matters worse, when she'd kissed him this afternoon—when those ripe, plum-soft lips had landed against his—it had been like touching a match to dry timber. He'd been set ablaze, had literally heard the fire roar in his ears, and ultimately settle in his groin. Lex had wanted before, was no stranger to attraction or desire. But what this woman inspired in just the few hours he'd been with her blew everything in his experience out of the water. She made him quake with lust, tripped some sort of internal trigger that vibrated the most primal of urges inside him. That kiss…
How in God's name was he supposed to keep his hands off her when she did provoking things like that? Lex wondered with fury and despair. How was he supposed to sleep in the same room—same bed—with her and not take what she would undoubtedly offer? What she would likely expect? Zoe and Nash were lovers—burned up the pages, according to Trudy. Lex ground his teeth.
The mere thought made both of his heads throb.
"Go," Trudy urged, yanking Lex out of his tortured reverie. "She'll be out any minute now."
Lex hurried to the bedroom—and drew up short.
Feminine clutter—clothes, shoes, makeup, various bottles of lotions and perfumes—littered the totally masculine space. Slinky undergarments were draped over his cedar chest and suspended from all but one pole of his four-poster bed. A black-and-pink garter hung from one of the antlers on the deer head mounted to the wall. His lips quirked. He seriously doubted his taxidermist would appreciate Faith's addition to his project.
The room was decorated in classic lodge style, with a color palette of black, brown, rust, green and gold. Heavy fabrics, heavy furniture and scenic pictures of mountain streams and various wildlife completed the decor.
Faith's things looked like a bouquet of spring flowers scattered among a fallow fall field. Curiously, they didn't look out of place, a fact that would ordinarily provoke further consideratio
n, but regrettably—or thankfully; Lex wasn't sure—he didn't have the time.
He looked around the room, considered the colorful clothes strewn about and compared them to what she'd had on when she first arrived at the lodge. There'd been nothing wrong with what she'd worn—classic beige and brown—but there had been nothing remarkable about it, either. It was as if she wanted to blend in, to become a part of the scenery, not really be seen.
Whereas her flashy heroine, Zoe, clearly dressed to stand out.
For the first time since the amnesia had set in, Lex wondered about what Doc Givens had said. Was it possible that he'd been right? That the amnesia could have been brought about by her subconscious rather than the blow to the head? That Faith had been so anxious about playing the part of Zoe that a hidden part of her brain had morphed her into that person at the slightest provocation? It seemed so surreal, so out of the realm of true possibility.
Doc had also mentioned another interesting insight—that perhaps Zoe was merely an extension of Faith herself. If that were the case, then where did one end and the other begin? Why did Faith live out her adventures through Zoe? Why did she hide behind the larger-than-life character she'd created? And better yet, how did Nash fit into the picture? Was he based on a real guy—Lex's every instinct balked at the idea—or had he merely been born of her imagination?
Lex blew out a long breath. He'd have to read the books to find out, and the sooner the better. In the meantime, he had to get back to the dining room. George would have dinner out any minute and he didn't appreciate stragglers at his table. It was disrespectful.
Evidently "Zoe" didn't deem drawers as suitable housing for her clothes, so Lex loaded all of the books and tapes into his nightstand—he'd slip in later for the first tape and his Walkman—then quickly let himself out of his room and headed back to the rejoin the group.
Since Faith would likely expect him to be with her the majority of the time, Lex didn't know when precisely Trudy expected him to listen to any of the tapes, much less read the books, but he'd simply have to find both the time and a way. He certainly couldn't go any further into this farce without preparing for it. This flying-blind-by-the-seat-of-his-pants method was completely nerve-racking. He could do without the stress.
A short bark of laughter erupted from his throat. As if anything about the next few days would be stress free. He'd likely end up sedated by the end of the weekend, that or he'd simply wander off into the woods, babbling to himself like a schizophrenic off his meds.
The mouthwatering smell of George's fried chicken teased his nostrils as he neared the dining room, triggering a hungry growl from his belly. Ahh … his favorite. Comfort food, thank God, because nothing else about the coming weekend would be comfortable.
Furthermore, this day hadn't left time for any luxuries—like lunch, Lex thought with a small laugh—and, as a result, he was starved. He could have eaten anything at the moment without the slightest complaint, but thankfully, he wouldn't have to. George, bless him, though he could be a cantankerous soul, had apparently taken pity on him and decided to compensate for a rotten day by making his favorite meal.
"Poppycock!" he heard George sputter indignantly as he neared the dining room. "Everybody likes fried chicken. It's an American staple."
A premonition of dread settled in Lex's chest as he hesitated outside the door.
"No, everybody doesn't," Faith replied, her tone patient yet clipped. "I do. Melanie does. But our other dining companion, Nash, I'm afraid does not. I'm sure that you've gone to a lot of trouble to prepare this fine meal," Faith added gently, competently using the old more-bees-with-honey approach. "And I assure you that we'll enjoy it, but Nash is a vegetarian."
"Then Nash can eat the mashed potatoes and green beans," George muttered gruffly.
Lex squeezed his eyes tightly shut and resisted the urge to moan. Nash was a vegetarian? It wasn't bad enough that he'd gotten sucked into this farce, would have to resist a woman who thought they were lovers—a Herculean task, to be sure, since he wanted her more than he wanted his next breath—and now—now—to add insult to injury, he was going to starve for the rest of the weekend? He swore silently. Repeatedly.
He heard Faith tsk under her breath. "Did you cook them with fat back?"
"Of course! How else would I cook 'em?"
"Steamed is a good choice." Humor laced her voice, drawing a reluctant smile from Lex.
George snorted, wordlessly sharing his opinion of that suggestion.
She sighed. "So the green beans are out, then."
"Then he can have mashed potatoes," George grumbled.
"He'll have to tonight," Faith said. "But when you're preparing future meals, please keep his preference in mind."
Lex stepped into the dining room, watched his uncle snap his mouth shut. No doubt he'd been about to deliver the truth about his true likes and dislikes, so Lex sent him a warning glare, which he swiftly morphed into an adoring smile when he looked at Faith. And he'd been afraid he couldn't act?
"Something smells good," he said in the too hearty tones of a man trying to foil an argument.
"Your friend here just told me that you were a vegetarian," George growled. "That's the sort of thing a cook likes to know before he prepares the meal."
"I apologize, George," Lex said, appropriately contrite. "I should have mentioned that to you this afternoon and I forgot." Of course, it was hard to share something you didn't know, Lex thought, perturbed. He'd briefed George and the rest of the staff on Faith's accident and his new role. He'd had to, or else the coming weekend would be a disaster.
George's bushy brows folded in consternation. "Is there anything else you forgot?"
Lex barely checked the impulse to snort. Not "forgot," no, but there was plenty he was sure he didn't know. "Er, not that I can think of," he told him.
George harrumphed. "Good." Then, grumbling under his breath about ungrateful guests, he shuffled off.
Lex helped Faith and Trudy into their chairs before taking a seat himself. He looked longingly at the chicken before grimly loading his plate with mashed potatoes.
"Sorry about that, honey," Faith told him. "I should have thought to ask for a vegetarian plate for you, but," she sighed, "with the recent change to plans and adjusting accordingly, I forgot."
The apology was offhand but sincere, the kind of thing he imagined couples routinely said to one another. Though they were only a couple in this fantasy world she'd created, then slipped into, the way Lex's heart warmed at the comment made him suddenly realize that it would be all too easy to start believing it himself.
She would make it easy.
"Don't worry about it," he told her, curiously disconcerted. It was one thing to want her—lust could be rationally explained, even the instantaneous, gnashing inferno of need he'd been experiencing since he first laid eyes on her. Regardless of how powerful, it was still a healthy physical reaction. Basic chemistry. But wanting her, feeling that emotional tug along with the need … now that was something new, and inspired no small amount of panic.
"Melanie, did those character profiles come through?" she asked, thankfully forcing his thoughts back to the here and now.
Trudy nodded. "Yes, they did. I hooked my laptop up to the computer station in the game room and printed them off."
"Good. I'd like to get a jump on my part." She speared a few green beans. "Officiating this thing while trying to catch a thief is going to be damn difficult."
Trudy smiled reassuringly. "You'll manage. After Calcutta, this should be a walk in the park."
Faith's lips curled with knowing humor. "There is that."
After Calcutta? What had happened in Calcutta? Lex wondered, intrigued. He shot Trudy a questioning glance, but she merely mouthed read the books.
Trudy and Faith chatted some more, but thankfully, any time a response was required of him, Trudy would interject the appropriate comment and, other than the occasional "Boyle, that bastard!" Lex didn't contribute much to
the conversation.
Instead he ate a heaping plate of mashed potatoes and about half a dozen rolls. Later tonight, he'd sneak into the kitchen and raid the fridge. He was a carnivore, dammit. He needed meat. What in the hell had possessed her to create a hero who was a damn vegetarian? Maybe Nash needed to have a change of heart about that over the weekend, Lex thought, hiding a smile.
Faith sighed and pushed her plate away. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm beat."
Trudy nodded. "Me, too. We've got a busy day tomorrow."
Lex was all for the idea of calling it a night so that he wouldn't have any more chances to unwittingly screw things up … until he realized that Faith expected him to go to bed with her. Then one anxiety replaced another and a whole new sort of tension tightened his gut. He imagined sliding into bed next to her, imagined her rolling into his arms, kissing him, enflaming him … and him having to refuse.
The Prince of Darkness himself couldn't have devised a more hellish punishment for his part in this.
Faith stood, came around behind him and kneaded his shoulders. "Geez, babe," she admonished. "You're so tense."
His shoulders weren't the only part of him that was rigid, Lex thought, and swallowed the hysterical urge to laugh. His loins were locked in a fiery pit of hell and every single cell in his body commenced a slow simmer. Those small, capable hands might have worked a little magic if he could have relaxed beneath her touch, but presently a vision of those talented hands sliding over—massaging—other parts of him had manifested behind his closed lids, and it was all he could do to keep from weeping in frustration. A vision of himself plunging between her thighs materialized behind his eyelids and he expelled a miserable stuttering breath.
She leaned down and her warm breath whispered across his ear, sending simultaneous waves of fire and ice down his spine. "I know a pleasurable way we can both relieve a little tension," she murmured suggestively. "Come on," she cajoled, her voice low and sexy. "Take me to bed … and then take me."
Sweet Jesus. With effort, Lex swallowed. "I want to check the perimeter once more, then I'll, uh, be along in a minute."
UNFORGETTABLE Page 5
