by Gemma Bruce
Dillon was still standing where she’d left him, his hands braced on the wall as if he’d turned to stone. Worked for her. She ripped the packet with her teeth and slipped back between him and the wall.
“Mission accomplished,” she said and guided the condom down the length of his cock.
Dillon’s breath caught. She linked her hands behind his neck and swung her legs to his waist.
She wrapped arms and legs around him so that he could adjust his cock to drive into her. Her thighs gripped his waist as he withdrew and thrust again. And all the time, he kept kissing her. She was vibrating with tension and expectation. He shifted her weight to one arm, pressed her into the wall so his free hand could slip between them. He slid his finger through her slick folds. And timing the rhythm of his finger to the thrusts of his hips, he drove her relentlessly to the edge.
She fractured without warning. Startling her into a scream, which he quickly covered with his mouth. Her thighs tightened convulsively around him. Her mind started meltdown; she was liquid fire and desire and still he drove her. And when she thought she couldn’t bear it, he pushed her into another wave of release.
And still he didn’t let up. Thrusting faster and deeper, until with an erratic thrust, his body tightened and stilled. Andy could feel him rushing into her once, twice, and again. And still he kept pulsing into her, as if to drain himself completely. Then wordlessly, soundlessly, he collapsed against her. They slid down the wall to the floor, and huddled there, clinging to each other while the water showered them with tiny darts of heat.
It seemed that time had stopped, when Dillon finally shifted away from her. “We can’t stay here.” He reached overhead and turned off the water. “Everyone will be waking up soon.”
Andy merely sighed, even though with the warmth of Dillon and the water gone, gooseflesh had broken out all over her.
He used the wall to steady himself as he pushed to his feet. Then he pulled her up after him. He picked up her robe and tossed it to her. She felt stiff and drained and barely had the energy to lift her hand in time to catch it.
She didn’t want to get dressed. She wanted to tap her heels together and end up in Dillon’s bed. But she put the robe on and tied the sash. It was soaked, and she shivered convulsively as the damp fabric clung to her skin.
Dillon wrapped the towel around his waist and peeked out the door. He motioned for her to come, and she just had time to grab her sandals from the floor before he trundled her down the hall and into his room. He closed the door and pulled her to him, his mouth finding hers with an urgency that made her light-headed.
When he finally pulled away, Andy could only stand there, stunned. She’d meant only to engage in a little seduction, a few minutes of hot and heavy sex, but this had been something else. Something she hadn’t experienced before, and was afraid she might never experience again.
She let out a yelp when a sweatshirt and pants sailed across the room and hit her in the chest.
Shivering, she quickly exchanged her wet robe for the sweats.
“Have a seat.”
She looked up.
Dillon was pointing to his bed. He’d already changed back into the black pants and long-sleeved T-shirt he’d been wearing earlier.
Her intense lover was gone. He was all business. His eyes cold again, his mouth a mere line across his face. Maybe once was enough for him, but Andy was already craving more. The man was good. They were good. Hell. They were more than good. Not a good sign. Except Dillon was acting as if nothing had happened. And that wasn’t good at all.
He took her by both shoulders. Andy moved toward him, lifted her face. He walked her backward to the bed and sat her down.
He stepped back, leaving Andy’s shoulders tingling where he’d touched her, and feeling drained everywhere else. Shaken over what had happened between them. Confused. And wishing she’d never set eyes on the man who was regarding her now with cold contempt.
Maybe it’s what she deserved for setting out to seduce him. But something more had happened between them. She didn’t know what it was, was afraid to even consider what it might be.
She shook herself. Whoa, girl. It was sex in a shower. Cool down. You’re about to be interrogated. She realized she was twisting the hem of the sweatshirt between her fingers. She let go, smoothed out the fabric, and straightened up.
He’d used her. Well, duh. She’d used him, too.
He was leaning against the chest of drawers, his hands gripping the wood on each side of his hips.
Hips she’d caressed just a few minutes ago and were now untouchable.
She’d been a fool to come here in the first place. To Dillon. To Terra Bliss. What could she possibly do to find her aunt? They should have called the police. She would be in Acapulco right now, breaking it off with Jason instead of with Dillon.
“Let’s start over, shall we?” His voice was hard, a tinge of irony making it hurtful. “Who are you?”
“Ariadne McAllister. Who are you?”
He lifted an eyebrow. Andy bit the inside of her lip.
“Why are you here?”
I came to find out why my aunt disappeared. “I told you. I’m a reporter. I’m here doing a story.”
“A story that involves breaking into the records office and rifling their files.”
“You know, your postcoital pillow talk leaves a little something to be desired.” It was a cheap shot, and she was only a little gratified to see him flinch. Well, she didn’t care. She just wanted to go to bed—her own bed—and forget tonight ever happened. The room was growing lighter, and she’d have to get out of here soon if she had any chance of getting back to her cabin without being seen.
“All right. Fine. I was looking for news.”
“In the clientele files?”
“I had to start somewhere.” Tell him. “Why are you asking me all these questions? Are you the resident goddess snitch?”
No response.
“It’s a human interest piece. You know that heiress that died a few weeks ago?”
Still no response. She might as well be talking to herself. “Well, I thought it would be a really good story. You know, lonely rich woman meets tragic end just when she finds the key to happiness.”
“And how does Miranda Houston fit into this human interest piece?”
Andy flinched. Tell him. “Who?”
He just looked at her.
She was getting panicky now. People would be getting up soon. “Oh. The woman that was here last session?”
He nodded.
“No connection.” She glanced up at him. “Were you here last session?”
“No.”
“Can I go now?”
“No. Where do you go in the mornings?”
That one had come out of left field. “Well, I did the Knowing What You Want class and—”
“Before class. Before breakfast. Over the wall. I saw you.”
“Oh.” She pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Just getting some exercise. There’s a nice lake there. I like to swim. Now can I go? It’s getting light.”
Dillon looked past her to the window. Gave a short nod.
Relief shot through her. She jumped off the bed. Started for the door.
Like a panther, Dillon was there before her, blocking her way.
“Why don’t you put your talent to use?”
She frowned, not understanding.
“Use the window.”
He dragged her across the room, opened the square window with his free hand, and stuck his head out, “It’s clear. Get going and don’t get caught.”
He stood back while she climbed onto the sill. Suddenly her throat was burning, and tears were pricking her eyes, but she glanced back over her shoulder.
“Hey,” she said, her voice only a little shaky. “What happened to ‘I had a great time. I’ll call you.’ ”
His eyes narrowed into searing pinpoints that cut right through her. “I had a great time. I’ll call you.�
� He gave her a shove and shut the window.
———
Dillon stepped away from the window, but he watched Ariadne running gazelle-like over the lawn. He was already castigating himself for succumbing to her studied seduction, and yet he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Christ. It was déjà vu all over again. How stupid could one man be?
If he screwed up this assignment, he’d be out on his ear. And yet, seeing her look so forlorn, even knowing she was lying to him, he was barely able to keep himself from pushing her down on the bed and making love to her until it was night again.
Tonight he hadn’t cared if she were a spinster, a reporter, or a double, triple, quadruple agent. She’d walked into the shower room, dropped that robe, and he was lost. At first he was afraid the hallucinations were back, but he still had her scent on his hands.
She might be a reporter, but she was lying about something. And that hurt. For some reason beyond his need to know, he wanted her to tell him the truth.
Well, he would just have to find out by himself. Because regardless of what or who she was, he couldn’t have her meddling in his investigation. She might blow the whole operation, and worse, she might get hurt.
———
Andy forced back tears as she ran across the dewy lawn. They had gone up in flames together, and he’d pushed her out a window without a kiss or a caress. That was a first.
She didn’t stop running until she reached her cabin. She burst through the door and flung herself on the couch. But she didn’t cry like any normal girl who’d just been jilted. Maybe she’d been expecting it. After all, she should be used to this scenario by now. She’d played it often enough.
She sat up and tucked her knees under the sweatshirt. It smelled like him, something she couldn’t quite define, something that smelled so good that it made her heart ache. Made her wish that he had been different. That she had been different.
Stupid. Her next film started in three weeks. She didn’t have time for love anyway. She caught herself twisting the bottom of the sweatshirt and pulled her fingers away. So why did she feel so bad?
Chapter 10
Andy waited until breakfast was almost over before making an appearance. She’d made coffee in her cabin, but caffeine and worry made her stomach roil, so she stopped by the dining hall, hoping to snare a roll without having to stay.
Of course, Evelyn, Loubelle, and Jeannie were just coming out as she stepped up to the buffet line. “There you are,” said Jeannie. “We thought maybe your slave had done you in.”
Andy bobbled the roll she’d just picked up.
“Never saw a man so surly in the morning. Except my first husband. He could be a bear. What did you do to the poor man?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, he’s not fit for a goddess this morning. Why don’t you come with us? We’re going to the Spa. And you look like you could use some pampering.” Jeannie took her shoulders and marched her toward the door.
“Didn’t you sleep well?” asked Loubelle, her mouth puckered in concern. Andy shook her head. Actually, she hadn’t slept at all. And her night had gone from stellar to dismal. “Then you need some TLC,” said Jeannie. “There’s yoga and meditation and a Jacuzzi.” She grinned. “And if those don’t fix you, there’s always Hans.” She did a little shimmy. “He’s got the Midas touch. Ooo-eee.”
“I don’t think—”
“I’ve got an extra suit in my bag. Now, no excuses. It’ll do you good. Uh-oh here comes Mr. Grumpy.”
Andy looked up in time to see Dillon and JoJo leaving the dining room. JoJo gave them a bright “Good morning,” but Dillon just walked past, frowning.
He’s going to tell them about the break-in, thought Andy, her stomach clenching.
She caught Evelyn’s eye. The older woman smiled sympathetically. “Why don’t you join us? You’ll feel better.”
“All right,” said Andy. She couldn’t believe that he could be so conniving. He’d made love to her, and now he was going to rat her out. Well, to hell with him. She’d acted like a fool and she got what she deserved.
Dillon and JoJo went up the stairs, just as Carmen and Jane came down. As usual, they were arguing. They stopped when they saw the four women but took up again as soon as they passed by.
“I didn’t leave that mess,” groused Jane. “But somebody said I did.”
“It wasn’t me, so just shut up.” Carmen flounced ahead of her.
“Ooo-ee,” said Jeannie. “Seems like everybody’s in a bad mood today.”
“Thanks to you, we’re stuck with Hans the ham-fisted all day.”
“It wasn’t—”
The door closed, cutting off Carmen’s final words.
“Well,” said Evelyn. “Shall we go?”
———
The Spa was another Greco-style building on the far side of the pool. As they approached it, Andy heard a rumbling sound and looked up in time to see a helicopter hover, then descend behind the hill.
“Fresh crab for lunch,” said Evelyn.
Or the police to drag me away to jail, thought Andy with a visible shudder.
“I’ll meet you in the dressing room,” Jeannie said and hurried away.
She returned a few minutes later and thrust a pair of hot pink leotards and exercise tights at Andy. “Got these at the Spa store. Hurry up and get dressed. Class starts in five minutes.”
Andy looked at the skimpy spandex in her hands. Well, what the hell. She was tired of losing herself in loose-fitting clothes. She would just tell them she’d been working out in preparation for the retreat.
When she came out, having thrown her oversized shirt over her new exercise clothes, ten women were already sitting on blue rectangular mats, stretching and chatting quietly. Jeannie motioned her over and pointed to a mat next to hers.
Andy sat down. The instructor took her place in front of the room. Andy hadn’t seen her before, but she was trim and muscular. She led them through breathing exercises, then a series of positions, starting with Greet the Sun. Andy knew the drill. She’d done yoga for a few months when she was recovering from a stagecoach chase gone bad. She concentrated on twisting herself into a pretzel while remembering to breathe, and trying not to think about Dillon or wondering what he was saying to Dr. Bliss and company.
After class, they took a five-minute break. Everyone headed for the side of the room and their water bottles.
“We’re supposed to talk quietly,” said Jeannie in a whisper that carried across the room. “Meditation’s next.”
Andy nodded. She didn’t really want to meditate. She had a hard time sitting still at the best of times. But they might be outside waiting to take her away. Maybe she’d think of a way out while chanting Ohm.
She took her place on her mat, crossed her legs, and folded her hands in her lap—and did a double take as the instructor walked to the front of the room.
She leaned over to Jeannie. “Katherine Dane is the meditation instructor?”
Jeannie nodded. “MBA, and certified in Hatha Yoga. Guess that’s why she’s so bland all the time.” She made a face and slapped a hand over her mouth. But her eyes were twinkling.
Katherine Dane faced the group. She was wearing loose gauze harem pants and a leotard top. She looked as unruffled as usual and just as unapproachable. Still, Andy was having trouble reconciling the businesswoman with the New Age one. Was she a product of goddess training? Was she just as efficient with the cosmos as she was behind a computer?
“Good morning, all,” she said, stretching out her arms and smiling down on the seated women.
“Good morning, Katherine,” they replied together.
Katherine sat down, crossed her legs, and folded her hands in her lap. Soft New Age music floated through the room from unseen speakers. Andy felt her mind begin to relax. Maybe, this was just what she needed. According to Mac’s file, she’d attended the meditation class, and Mac hated sitting still even more than Andy did. So there must be so
mething to it.
She closed her eyes, hoping to release the anxiety and hurt she was feeling. She jumped when Katherine said, “Clear your thoughts, go to a place where sunshine welcomes you, warm, inviting, soothing.” Her voice was soothing, almost monotonal, but it brought Andy right back to the fix she was in.
“Tune your chi into the universe, let the energy pour over you, through you, around you. Take a cleansing breath.”
All around her, Andy heard intakes of air. She breathed in, let it out, tried to relax. She should have stopped after yoga. She’d felt okay then.
“And breathe in.” Katherine’s arms stretched out as she took in an audible breath. “And exhale.”
Everyone did.
“Let your chi flow.”
I would if you’d shut up, thought Andy. Weren’t you supposed to be quiet when you meditated?
She tried to listen to the music, drown out Katherine’s talking. She drifted, but instead of going to a sunny place, she thought of Dillon and the two of them in the shower. The heat that passed between them. How they’d stood before each other, naked and not touching, until he finally gave in. His hands on her. His mouth.
“Let all thoughts drift away. Think them and let them go into the universe, until all thoughts are gone. And sublime emptiness is all that is left.
“There is no worry, only light. It carries your hopes, your fears, your thoughts into the cosmos.”
Andy was getting annoyed. She didn’t want her thoughts carried off into the cosmos. She had a hard enough time keeping them together. But she breathed in and out. And saw Aunt Mac’s face. Where was she? Wouldn’t Andy know if she had been hurt? Would she know if Dillon was hurt? She pushed the thought away. Remembered that she wasn’t supposed to push them away, but let them drift. This wasn’t going to work.
Katherine’s voice droned on and on and on, until, at last, Andy ceased to hear it.
———
Dillon sat across the coffee table from Fiona Bliss, regarding her with a mixture of relief and wariness. When JoJo told him she wanted to see him, he’d been sure Ariadne and he must have been spotted by the security guards during their little B and E fiasco. But Dr. Bliss had greeted him with a smile, had offered herbal tea—which he declined—and asked him to sit down. It seemed that she only wanted to know how he and Ariadne McAllister were getting along.
