Just Deserts (8 page)

“Honestly,” he said smoothly, knowing she had to be asking just for the hell of it. He figured for the past ten minutes or so he had painted a pretty clear picture. But just in case he hadn’t, he whispered, “I want you naked in my bed, with me taking you in every way known to man and a few ways that haven’t been created yet. But like I said, we can always go into one of those dressing rooms for a quickie.”

She broke eye contact with him and began fidgeting with a blouse on a hanger. “I’ve never had a quickie before.”

Knowing the asshole she’d been married to for five years, he could well believe that. “Um, I think you’ll find it enjoyable. Let me prove it to you.”

She cleared her throat. “Maybe some other time.”

“I’m going to hold you to it. You won’t know what hit you until it’s too late.” The sight of Dani’s sexy body pinned against a wall with him inside her was something he couldn’t erase from his mind.

“I think you’re right. We better go,” she said, placing the blouse back on the rack. “Besides, that saleslady has been watching us. I believe she thinks we’re shoplifters or something.”

“Then we’re doing the right thing by leaving,” he said, taking her hand in his and heading for one of the exit doors.

“I got a question for you,” she said when they walked down the sidewalk toward their rental car.

He glanced over at her. “What?”

“What’s the opposite of a quickie?”

He smiled. “A slow one.”

She nodded. “Like last night and this morning?”

He considered her question. He didn’t think there was anything slow about having multiple orgasms. The slowness came if you counted the time in between sessions when you had no other choice but to catch your breath. A lot could be said for savoring such moments. A smile touched his lips. “Yes, just like last night and this morning. I prefer taking the time to savor you, long, hard and slow, but when time is of the essence or if your needs suddenly overwhelm you and you’ve got to have it right then, a quickie is the best way to go.”

“Hungry?”

Danielle turned from looking out the car window and stared wide-eyed at Tristan. “After that conversation in the department store, how on earth can you even think about food?”

He chuckled. “Being aroused has nothing to do with an empty stomach. Besides, we’ll both need our strength.”

Danielle turned to look back out the car window. Ever since he’d painted a vivid picture of them making love again, her body had gotten set in a ready-to-take-him-on mode. She figured they’d be heading straight to the hotel and making no stops along the way. Evidently she’d been wrong.

“And I perform better on a full stomach.”

She decided not to glance back over at him when she said, “That’s nice to know.”

She had no reason not to believe him since he had certainly outdone himself last night after returning to the hotel from dinner. He had definitely been on top of his game. She had heard how some men had unlimited stamina, but she had never encountered such a man until last night. For a while she’d felt totally out of her depth with him, but he had made her feel a part of everything they’d done. Being taken by a desperate man had been everything she’d fantasized it would be.

“For a renowned fashion model, you’ve lived a pretty sheltered life.”

Tristan’s words broke into her thoughts, and she couldn’t help but smile at him. “Well, I have to admit I felt like a fish out of water when I made it to New York. It was so different from Port St. Lucie. So fast-paced. Nevertheless, I had no intention of being wild and loose. But then, you can’t believe everything you read in the papers about models.”

“I never have. I always knew you had a good head on your shoulders. Paul knew it, too. He also knew that if you ever needed him for anything, you would call. He was proud of you then, and if he were alive today, he’d still be proud of you,” Tristan said.

Danielle looked straight ahead. “Even about this thing with Marc?”

Tristan didn’t want to talk about Marc with her, but figured this time he would make an exception. He would tell her something she undoubtedly needed to hear. “Yes,
especially
about this thing with Marc. It wasn’t your fault and Paul would be proud of how you’re handling things.”

He paused a moment and then said, “And stop thinking that perhaps you should have known what the guy was up to. There was no way you could have known, Dani, since he never gave you reason to suspect anything, especially something as outlandish as living a triple life. Marc was too smart and meticulous at what he was doing. He never planned to get caught and probably thought he never would. There’s no telling how long things would have gone on without you or the others finding out. I don’t wish death on anyone but he had to get caught eventually.”

Danielle thought about Tristan’s words, and then, deciding she would refuse to let Marc put a damper on her happy mood, she switched subjects and asked, “So, where are you taking me for lunch?”

He turned to face her when he stopped for traffic. “I’ve decided we can go back to the hotel and get room service.”

When he saw her smile, he said, “I hope your smile means the plan meets with your approval.”

She grinned. “Yes, it does.”

He was tempted to ask why and decided not to bother. Hopefully she would
show
him why when they reached their hotel room. He was more than pleased with the way their relationship was progressing. Last night they had escalated things up a notch to become both lovers and friends. And their conversation in the department store, as well as the one they’d had a few moments ago, had proved they could talk to each other about practically anything. He had found the topic of quickies to have been rather interesting, as well as stimulating, to say the least.

“Will we stay in for dinner, too, Tris?”

“Let’s play it by ear to see what we prefer doing later.” He didn’t want to tell her that by the time dinner rolled around she wouldn’t have the strength to even get dressed.

Maybe it was his imagination, but he’d swear he felt the sexual tension between them thicken when he pulled into the hotel garage. When he pulled into a parking space, he glanced at her. She was staring at him. He’d have given just about anything to know what she was thinking. He definitely knew what was on his own mind.

“Ready to go up?” he asked evenly, not even wanting to think how he’d feel if she said no. He didn’t have to think twice about what there was about her that made him want to make love to her every chance he got. All day, every day.

“Yes, I’m ready. Are you?”

He raised a brow, wondering if she was issuing a challenge. “Yes, I’m more than ready.”

He saw her glance at his crotch. There was startling proof he could not hide. Deciding the sooner they got up to their suite the better off they’d both be, he unbuckled his seat belt and opened the car door, then came around to the other side to open hers.

He leaned over to unbuckle her seat belt and when his mouth was mere inches from hers, he swiped his tongue across her lips. He heard her swift intake of breath, then her startled groan.

“Sorry,” he whispered against her moist lips. “I couldn’t help myself.” Then he straightened, took a step back and reached out his hand to assist her from the car.

Danielle felt the soles of her feet plant firmly on solid ground when she got out of the car. When she’d given Tristan her hand, the moment they’d touched she had felt it. The deep stirrings within her had intensified. For a woman who had gone without sex for eight months, she was definitely getting her fill now, making up for lost time.

“Come this way. It will be more convenient to use the elevator over there.”

“All right.”

They walked side by side, holding hands, and when they reached the elevator door, he moved to stand behind her. She could feel his aroused body pressed against her backside and she had to squeeze her eyes shut at the sensations that started flowing inside her. She shivered in response to them. Memories of what they’d shared last night and that morning, when he had kissed every inch of her body, filled hers, and the shivers increased.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her back even closer against him. “Are you okay?” He leaned forward to whisper the words beneath her earlobe. His breath bathed her neck in warmth.

She opened her eyes. “Yes, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve gone quiet on me,” he said.

“Um, I was just thinking about something.” No need to tell him what that was. She thought about something else, too—her next conversation with Alex and Renée. When they asked how things were going with her and Tristan, what would she tell them? Would she admit they had crossed the line and were no longer just friends?

She remembered when she had seen Chris and Renée together at Alex and Hunter’s wedding. Without even being told that something was going on between them, she had known. She had been able to pick up on how Chris’s gaze would follow Renée wherever she went, and the smiles they would exchange when they thought no one else was watching.

Danielle’s mind was brought back to the present when the elevator door whooshed open and they moved aside to let a couple step out. Then Tristan took her hand and led her into the car. As soon as it began moving, Tristan’s hand went to the panel box and pressed the stop button to suspend them between floors.

Danielle looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “What are you doing?

Instead of answering, he turned and backed her against the wall. “Enjoying a quickie.”

“What!”

And then she felt herself being lifted, along with her short skirt, as he wrapped her legs around his waist. Then his mouth was there, on hers, taking her tongue as if he had every right to it. She felt him work at his zipper, knew the exact moment he released his aroused shaft. And then his hands were between her legs, pushing aside her thong, and before she could blink, he was inside her. His first thrust hit her at an angle that sent shivers down her body. The second made her scream and the third made her come—right along with him. An orgasm struck their bodies at the same time and she tightened her legs around him to hold him in.

“Time to go, sweetheart,” she whispered against his moist lips.

And while he stood her back on her feet and straightened her clothes before proceeding to straighten his, she still felt tremors touch her body, the aftereffects of her orgasm.

Before pushing the button to start the elevator up again, he glanced at her. She was leaning against the wall for support. He smiled as he said, “Now, sweetheart, you can’t ever say you’ve never experienced a quickie. And just to put you on notice, there’s a lot more where that came from.”

T
ristan eased from Danielle’s side when he heard his cell phone ring. He’d left it in the sitting area. Careful not to wake her, he moved toward the door, then paused for a second to look back over his shoulder at her.

His mouth formed into a smile. Danielle hadn’t moved an inch, which was fine with him, and since she was barely covered by the sheets he could see the area between her thighs—the part of her body he enjoyed getting into the most. Her bare, firm breasts rose and fell evenly with her breathing while she slept.

Feeling deep stirrings in his body once again, he went out through the door and closed it behind him. He thought about what they had started on the elevator and what they had finished up here. Hell, on second thought, they really hadn’t finished anything. When it came to this part of their relationship, nothing would ever be complete, especially when there were always new and exciting things to try.

He reached his cell phone and flipped it on. “Yes?”

“Tristan, this is Chris. How are things going?”

Tristan smiled. “Great. San Francisco is a beautiful city.” Tristan knew Chris wouldn’t be calling unless he had something he felt was important to share with him. “Did you find out anything else at Marc’s apartment?”

“Yes, there’s definitely a fourth woman. However, I’m still leaning toward her being a fiancée rather than a wife. I found a jeweler’s receipt the other day and paid the jeweler a visit. It seems that Marc had a special wedding set exclusively designed. According to the jeweler, Marc had picked up the engagement ring almost eight months ago. The jeweler also indicated the engagement ring was six carats and cost close to half a million.”

“Damn. Where did he get that kind of money?”

“My guess would be from a portion of that technology stock that rightfully belonged to Alex. I always figured he’d cashed in some of the shares.”

Tristan shook his head. “Any idea the name of the woman who’s walking around with a rock the size of Gibraltar on her hand?”

“No, but I’m determined to find out.”

“And so is Dani. That woman’s identity is the final piece for her. She needs to bring closure before she can move on.”

“I understand, Tristan. More than anyone, I know the pain and misery my brother’s deception caused and I owe it to Alex, Renée and Dani to bring closure. Now I feel I owe it to this fourth woman, as well. The jeweler didn’t have her name, but he did mention that Marc told him he’d proposed to her at their favorite restaurant. I’m in Birmingham now with Renée, but I plan to fly back to Costa Woods and visit the restaurant to see if perhaps the owner remembers anything about Marc or the woman he was with. I’d like to have everything resolved before the wedding.”

Tristan nodded. He hoped everything would be resolved by then, too.

Standing beside Danielle outside the door of Simon Craven’s home, Tristan had to appreciate the beauty of the three-story structure. Majestically rising from a premium spot of land close to the Bay, the house actually left you breathless just from looking at it.

Craven, a very successful, highly paid fullback for the 49ers, had agreed to meet with them to discuss their interest in his family’s business. Instead of meeting with them at the hotel, he had invited them to his home.

“Um, maybe I’m in the wrong business,” Danielle said, interrupting Tristan’s thoughts.

He smiled at her. He knew she’d earned a nice salary as a model, yet had willingly walked away. “I’m fairly certain there’re a number of guys who would just love to tackle you, whether it’s out on the field or in the bedroom. Sorry, but I won’t be giving them the chance, sweetheart.”

At the moment Tristan didn’t care one iota if he sounded possessive. Spending three days in a hotel room, eating, sleeping and making love with the same woman was bound to make you feel that way. Not that he was complaining, but they had only two days left in San Francisco and had yet to do any sightseeing. They’d had other, more pressing matters on their minds, a state of desperation they had needed to take care of. No question about it. Having an exclusive lover definitely had its merits.

His attention swung to the massive front door when it opened to a middle-aged woman in a maid’s uniform. She smiled when she saw them. “May I help you?” she asked after giving them a cursory once-over.

“I’m Danielle Timmons and this is my business partner, Tristan Adams. We’re here to see Mr. Craven.” Danielle returned the woman’s smile. “I think he’s expecting us.”

“He is. I was asked to escort the two of you to the living room,” she said, stepping aside for them to enter the massive foyer.

Danielle’s gaze immediately went to the paintings on the wall, while Tristan’s mind still whirled from how Danielle had introduced herself. Danielle Timmons. He knew she’d change her name back to her maiden name, but he wasn’t aware until now that it was official. She was no longer a Foster—not that she ever legally was.

They followed the woman, and when they stepped into the living room, he couldn’t help but appreciate the sheer elegance and luxury of Simon Craven’s home. It was definitely a male domain, with furniture that showcased the buyer’s exquisite taste.

“Mr. Craven will be with you in a minute,” the maid said. “Please have a seat.”

Danielle sat on the sofa and Tristan joined her. “Nice place, isn’t it?” she asked him while glancing around the room. “And I love his taste in art.”

Tristan had to admit he did, too. But what really captured his attention was the photo on the fireplace mantel of Craven on the back of a Harley. The bike was a beauty. Tristan did a quick trip down memory lane to the year before his grandmother Adams died. It was the Christmas she had surprised him with a motorcycle. He had turned seventeen the year before, and it was the last holiday the two of them spent together.

He could distinctively recall how the Timmons family had stuck by him and helped him make all the necessary funeral arrangements. His mother, Zora Adams’s only child, had shown up a week after the funeral to inquire if anything had been left to her. When she discovered her only inheritance was the family Bible, she’d tossed it aside angrily and left town again. The last time Tristan had seen his mother was three years ago. She’d shown up, down on her luck, and asked for money.

Tristan turned when he heard footsteps on the hardwood floor and glanced up to see Simon Craven enter the room. He noted the man’s gaze swept past him directly to Danielle and stopped. Simon opened his mouth to speak, then seemed rendered speechless. Tristan wasn’t surprised. Danielle had that sort of effect on men. And especially today wearing a blue, lace-trimmed Versace cami beneath a multicolored poplin shirt, a pair of skinny jeans and short, chocolate-colored suede boots on her feet.

Seeing the hulking NFL fullback so tongue-tied, Tristan thought it best to initiate introductions. But Danielle, being the effervescent and vivacious PR person that she was, stepped forward and extended her hand.

“Mr. Craven, I’m Danielle Timmons and this is my partner—”

“I know who you are, Ms. Timmons,” Craven said, cutting in and taking the hand she offered. “I remember you well as a fashion model. We met once, years ago, at a party in New York.”

The bright smile on Danielle’s face turned into an apologetic one. “Sorry, I don’t remember. As a model I met so many people….”

The man finally released her hand, nodded and said, “That’s understandable, but I do miss your face on magazines now.”

Tristan thought it was time he introduced himself. Obviously Craven was taken with Danielle. “And I’m Tristan Adams, Danielle’s business partner.”

Maybe it was the way he had cut in to introduce himself, Tristan thought. Or maybe it was the look in his eye that said there was more to his and Danielle’s relationship than business. Regardless of the reason, Tristan knew the exact moment Simon Craven picked up on it.

“Mr. Adams, I’m sorry about that,” Craven said, giving him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I truly didn’t mean to overlook you, but I was just taken aback when I walked in and saw Dani Timmons sitting in my living room.”

“I understand. So we won’t take up too much of your time, we would like to go ahead and discuss our interest in Shipping Source.”

“Certainly, and I hope the two of you don’t mind that I’ve asked the company’s attorney to attend so he can answer any questions you might have. I have very little dealings with my father’s company.”

“No, we don’t mind,” Tristan said, glancing at Danielle for affirmation. When she nodded in agreement, Tristan said to the man, “You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you.” Craven looked at Danielle again before returning his gaze to Tristan. “And you, Mr. Adams, have a beautiful business partner.”

“I think the meeting went well.” Danielle threw her jacket across a chair when they returned to their hotel room. She tried brushing aside the thought that Tristan had been pretty quiet on the car ride from Simon Craven’s home.

Tristan sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote. “Yes, things started going well once Craven and his attorney finally got down to business. I don’t know which of them was worse. You’d think they’d never seen a beautiful woman before.”

Danielle appreciated the compliment, but couldn’t ignore the irritation in Tristan’s voice. “I thought they were just being nice.”

He rolled his eyes. “Dani, Ray Stewart was coming on to you.”

She ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Yes, he was.”

Sighing deeply, she crossed the room and sat beside Tristan on the sofa. “Okay, and what if he was, Tristan? Why are you making such a big deal out of it?”

“I’m not.”

She gave him an odd look. “Aren’t you?”

Instead of giving her an answer, he stood and walked over to the window.
Was
he making a big deal out of it? He knew why it had bothered him when those two men had openly flirted with her. It was because he loved her.

But she didn’t know that. She had enough on her plate without him overloading her with his emotions. Just because he was feeling them didn’t mean he should expect her to feel them, too. In her eyes they were friends who were also bed partners.

“Tristan?”

He inhaled deeply as he turned to her. She looked as sexy as any one woman could look. Nothing detracted from her sexiness. Not even the frown on her face. It was a frown he’d put there.

He walked back over to her, took her hand and pulled her up and into his arms. “You’re right. It’s no big deal.”

“No, it must have been a big deal to you,” she said. “Those men flirted with me and it bothered you. Men have flirted with me before around you. Why is it bothering you now? Is it because we’ve slept together? Is that what’s making you crazy?”

Crazy?

He wanted to laugh. He was in love with her, was acting like a besotted fool, and she thought he was acting crazy? Something snapped inside him. “I guess knowing that other men want you the way I have had you the last few days is making me crazy, Dani.”

She shrugged out of his arms and moved toward her bedroom door. Before opening it, she paused and said, “Then I think you need to get over it.”

She disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, and he could swear he heard it lock. He was tempted to check, but changed his mind. He was mad enough as it was.

He went into his own bedroom and all but slammed the door. Crap. He couldn’t recall the last time a woman had gotten on his last nerve, had pissed him off to the point where he wanted to break something.

No, he hadn’t liked the way those men had looked at Dani. He had seen lust in their eyes. When she had crossed the room to seek out the bathroom, they had watched her runway walk—straight and confident, hips swaying. It was a wonder Craven’s and Stewart’s eyes hadn’t popped out of the sockets.

Tristan had just taken off his shirt to take a shower when he heard a knock on his bedroom door. Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, he crossed the room and snatched it open. Danielle was standing there, and from the expression on her face it was obvious she was still mad.

“Furthermore, Tristan,” she said with hands on her hips, “I don’t like it when you act jealous. There’s no reason for it. It’s not like we’re real lovers or anything. We’re just best friends.”

He stared at her.
Real lovers?
He rested a shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed his legs at the ankles. “Please define ‘real lovers’ for me, Dani.”

His question evidently caught her off guard, and he watched her frown deepen as she thought about how to answer him. Finally she said, “Real lovers are two people who are an item. They are…they are…”

He raised a brow. “They are what, Dani? Enemies? Then that would explain why we aren’t a real couple, since we’re friends. Or is it that they’re strangers? That wouldn’t work, either, because we
aren’t
strangers. Or I guess you can say they’re in love. But I guess you’ll blow that away, too, since you think we aren’t in love.”

“We aren’t!”

She had answered too quickly to suit him. “Okay, so we aren’t in love,” he said through clenched teeth. “Is that what makes us not a real couple?”