Lying on his back, Matt had a well-tended look with boutique shop-trimmed blond hair, muscles from dedicated gym usage, and a lingering tan from a business trip to San Diego. Tomorrow he'd get up, eat something low-fat and disgustingly healthy, and head off to his job at the brokerage house, content with life.
Her contentment matched his.
Really
. After all, the managing director of her ad agency was considering her for the position of senior art director, putting her on the fast track to the top. A gust of wind whipped the curtains inward, bringing the sea tang of San Francisco Bay and the scent of a spring rain. She lived in the best city in the world.
“I have an idea, but you probably won't like it.” Matt turned to face her and propped himself up with an elbow. “I belong to this group, and we're taking a very long Memorial Day weekend in the mountains.”
“I remember you said you'd be out of town.” She bit her lip. Maybe they weren't as close as she'd thought. He'd never mentioned belonging to anything other than his fitness club and some business associations. “What group is this?”
“It's a swingers' club.”
“Very funny.” Only he wore no smile. He wasn't joking. “Seriously? Swingers, like in exchanging-partners swingers?”
He shrugged, half-embarrassed and half-smug. “That's it. We get together for a weekend every couple of months… Uh, seems like last time we met, you were in Chicago for a seminar. Anyway, there's about twenty in the club and—”
“You've been screwing around with twenty other people and are just now letting me know? God, Matthew, how many diseases have you given me?”
He held up his hand. “Don't lose it, babe. Everyone uses condoms and gets tested routinely. It's not like that.”
The fist squeezing her insides relaxed slightly. “Well, that's good.”
“And it's not like you and I have an exclusive relationship. Right?”
“True.” Just because she didn't go out and screw the neighborhood didn't mean he couldn't. They'd both agreed to keep it loose. But good grief. Sure, her…libido…didn't match his, but who would have thought he'd take care of that little discrepancy in such a fashion?
And here she'd thought he was commitment-phobic because his last relationship had gone bad. She'd been forcing herself not to push him.
Duh, Rebecca
. “So you're going off to have an orgy?”
In the dim light from the living room down the hall, she saw him roll his eyes. “It's not an orgy. We swap, and sometimes two couples get together in a foursome, but not more than that. Usually.” He grinned.
“Oh, well then, that's all right,” she said drily.
“More can be really fun. Come with me this time, babe.” He took her hand. “We take over this great place up in the mountains. There're rustic cabins scattered throughout the pines, and we're the only people there. We go up Friday, spend the weekend, Memorial Day, and Tuesday, then drive back on Wednesday. Nice people, amazing sex. You could even bring your paints.”
“Rustic cabins?” She stared at him in disbelief. Vacations, not that she'd taken one since she left college, should be spent somewhere warm and sunny with room service. But she'd gotten off the subject. He was talking about sex. “Jumping in and out of bed with other people? Matt, I'm not into that.”
The smile died from his face. “Rebecca, we need to add some spice to this relationship. It's…”
Inadequate. Lacking
. The echo of the door slamming behind her father twenty-some years ago seemed to reverberate in her ears. “
You're fat and boring, and so's the kid. I'm leaving
.” Her ribs seemed to squeeze inward, compressing her lungs until she couldn't get a breath. She shook her head at him.
“Well,” Matt added, “it's just not working out for me.”
What he meant was
she
wasn't working out for him. How could she not have realized, have seen this coming?
What about my list and my plans?
“What about our lease?” she asked through numb lips.
“Oh, let's not get carried away here,” he said lightly. “Just come with me this weekend. It'll be good for you. Maybe help you lose some of those inhibitions.”
She bit back her first response—
no way
—because, as bluntly as he'd put it, he had a point. Their sex life lacked something… No, be honest,
she
lacked something. But messing around with a group? Going to bed with strangers? She just couldn't do something like that. “Matt…”
“Only for a weekend, babe. Give it a try.”
A try. She tried to imagine it…
Probably some strange man would come into her room. And maybe she'd hesitate, so he'd grab her, pin her to the mattress, force her to cooperate
. Her clit started throbbing like she was sitting on her vibrator. “Well, maybe…”
He rubbed her shoulder. “I've really been wanting you to join us.”
And if she didn't go, their relationship would end. That was all too clear.
No more boring
. “Amazing sex, huh? Why not?”
* * * * *
As the car bumped down the never-ending, rutted dirt road, Rebecca felt as if every bone in her body had turned to splinters. The car lights created a thin tunnel between the encroaching trees, then suddenly speared out across a wide clearing.
“At last.” Matt echoed her thoughts as he pulled the car into a small parking area well concealed behind bushes and trees.
She sighed in relief that the drive was over. Then apprehension prickled across her nerves. “What happens now?”
Matt patted her leg. “Nothing's going on tonight. We'll just sign in, unpack, and make an early night of it.”
“Good plan. I'm exhausted.” The only swinging she wanted to do tonight was into a bed. Before leaving, she'd finished off the work on her desk, met with one account team, then with a copywriter. She couldn't afford to get behind, not with the manager watching her work.
She slid out of the BMW convertible and took a breath of air so cold and crisp, it burned her lungs. Looking up past the towering pines at the fat white dots in the black night, she blinked in surprise. Wow. Stars grew bigger outside of the city, didn't they? Had the sky looked like this before she and Mom moved to San Francisco after her parents divorced? “Can you believe these stars?”
“What, babe?” Matt called, head buried in the trunk.
“Nothing.”
After pulling out the two suitcases, he slammed the trunk and handed over her bag.
They crossed the clearing to a massive two-story log building. Rebecca lugged her case across the wide, encircling porch and followed Matt into a huge room. Numerous leather couches, big armchairs in dark red upholstery, and brightly colored rag rugs created cozy sitting areas. On the left wall, a fire crackled in a stone fireplace bracketed by well-stuffed bookcases. Four men played cards at the far end.
A woman by the fire called a welcome to Matt, and suddenly people seemed to come out of the woodwork.
Matt beamed, shaking hands with the men and exchanging hugs with the women. “Rebecca, this is Paul and Amy.”
Rebecca nodded and smiled, trying to put names to faces. Paul and Amy: a tall, balding man and a slender brunette with a dark tan. Ginger and Mel: a redhead and a beefy man. Serena and Greg: blonde woman, nerdy man with glasses.
Then she started losing track, but not enough to miss the fact that the men came in different sizes, but all the women were toned and slender. She sure didn't fit in if that was a criterion for acceptance. A sinking feeling pulled at her stomach; being the last person picked in gym class had sucked. Would these sexual calisthenics be the same?
“Nice to meet you all,” she said, noting the bulky sweaters, T-shirts, and jeans. Very casual. Why hadn't Matt mentioned the dress code? She still wore her suit. Then again, she hadn't had much choice. Aside from two pairs of Ralph Lauren jeans, her entire wardrobe contained only business clothes, sweats, and more sweats covered with paint.
“Let's get signed in. Then we can haul our stuff over to the cabin,” Matt said, pulling her toward a desk to the right of the front door.
A low growl halted her in her tracks.
A dog
. Her suitcase dropped to the floor as she recoiled. Heart thudding inside her chest, she fought to stand still and not run out the door. Any dog allowed inside couldn't be vicious. It couldn't.
“C'mon, Rebecca. Sign in.” Matt gave her an impatient look.
“Right.” She forced her feet forward, one hard-won step after another. Where was the dog? As the man behind the desk shook hands with Matt, Rebecca checked the floor.
There
. Standing beside the man, it looked huge, with dark brown fur and a darker muzzle. It stared at her, and she heard another rumble.
“Thor,” the man said, his low voice almost a match for the dog's. “Down.”
The dog flattened to the floor. It never stopped looking at her, though.
“Rebecca, this is Logan Hunt. He owns the place,” Matt said.
“Hey, Matt!” one of the women yelled from the front door. “Come help us decide on tomorrow's plans.”
“Be right there,” he called back, then patted Rebecca's arm. “You go ahead and sign in. I'll be on the porch with Paul and Amy.”
She nodded, unable to tear her gaze from the dog.
“Rebecca, eyes on me, not the dog.” The deep, rough voice broke her free, and she turned to the owner. He looked as mean as his dog, with steel blue eyes in a deeply tanned face—a ruthless face decorated with a day-old beard and a white scar below his left cheekbone. After handing her a pen, he tapped the paper in front of him. “Name and address. Signature on the release.”
“Release?”
His firm lips curved. “So you can't sue us if you fall down the mountain and break your neck.”
Right. After filling out the paperwork, she picked up her suitcase, holding it in front of her just in case the dog moved. When the owner rose, she retreated a step. He stood at least an inch over six feet, with muscles straining his dark red flannel shirt. The rolled-up sleeves displayed thick forearms with heavy-boned, corded wrists. More scars graced his hands. Whatever he'd done in the past must have been brutal.
“I'll show you to your cabin.” He walked over to her, and when the dog followed him, she couldn't seem to move. That animal would rend her to shreds, spilling her blood, tearing her…