Mystery Date (Harlequin Blaze) (12 page)

“Back to Twenty Questions, I see.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you by changing my style. What else did you expect?”

“I expect that you’ll be pampered to within an inch of your life the next few days. Everything you want, you’ll get. Within reason, that is.”

Ah, he knew her well, because the first thing she would’ve requested was answers. “I’m good with what I see so far.”

He really was bent on spoiling her. But a tiny voice inside her started saying annoying things.
You know that he wouldn’t be paying half as much attention to you if you were still chubby, right? Do you think he’d be as interested in you if you gained all that weight back?

But he’d told her that she’d always been pretty, which meant that he’d seen her in her “heftier” days.

Yet the voice inside her could get so loud. Overwhelming. She needed to ignore it.

“Leigh,” he said over the phone, and she blinked, coming back to the present.

“Yes?”

“Since you’re settled, indulge me by stepping into the hallway.”

So the games would start right away? Wasn’t that how they functioned, though? Wasn’t that all there was between them really?

Her blood started to pump with jerks of desire as she went to the door, opened it and walked into the hallway. Iron lanterns were posted on the walls, giving off dim light.

“Check the door on the left side at the end,” he said.

When she got there, she opened the door and found it led to another bedroom, this one decorated in burnished tones with mosquito netting around the bed, hiding the mattress. This room had a view of the pool, which was shaped like a lagoon. A rock waterfall splashed into it.

He spoke again. “Open the armoire.”

The hinges moaned softly as she obeyed, and she reached out to touch one of the beautiful pieces of clothing hanging there.

It was a flowing, sheer creation in a color that matched her dark green eyes, and it reminded her of something a woman would wear in a harem.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Only one of many choices.”

She thought she heard something coming from an adjoining room, a shifting sound. Was Callum behind the door?

Don’t go over to open it,
she thought.
It’ll only be locked, and you’ll ruin what you have with him. Just be happy with this.

But wasn’t that what she wanted? The truth of who he was? Or were the games they were playing still too much of a rush to give up?

She went with the latter possibility for now, fingering another outfit—a silk suit that looked as though it belonged to a mobster. Gray pin-striped pants, a vest, a fine long-sleeved shirt, a fedora....

Her excitement went up another notch. She’d never dreamed of scenarios like the ones these clothes were suggesting. Well, okay, yes, she had dreamed of them, but to have them here at her fingertips?

“Go to the bed,” he said.

Deserting the armoire, she followed his suggestion, turning her back on the door leading to the adjoining room. She pushed aside the hanging net and found more treasures on the mattress that the thin material had been hiding.

The first thing she saw was a flat, open white box, tissue spread out with yet another outfit draped over it.

A short negligee dress—creamy-white, filmy, one piece, no panties. But it did have a matching robe and thigh-high stockings. And there was one more item that made everything a little more erotic—ballet shoes. The kind that real dancers wore when they danced on their toes.

“I’m not a ballerina,” she said, reaching out to brush the stockings. God, these were real silk. He’d gotten her the best.

“You don’t have to dance for me, Leigh. You can just sit in a chair by the window with those shoes and the negligee on, looking like a satin doll.” He paused. “What else do you see on that bed?”

She was utterly focused on discovering everything he’d laid out for her, completely steeped in this new set of fantasies.

As her gaze traveled to the right, she sucked in a breath, not quite knowing why these items were there.

Silken cords.... Feathers....

Before she could speak into the phone, she felt a length of silk slipping over her eyes, her sight blocked by the material.

She dropped the phone, reaching up in shock, her hands closing around a pair of wrists.

His wrists?

“Are you ready to start?” Callum’s voice asked from right behind her.

7

A
S
L
EIGH GRASPED
his wrists, Adam loosened his hold on the blindfold.

“I’ll stop if you want me to,” he whispered.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, and his pulse chopped through him so forcefully that he almost couldn’t hear anything but his own heartbeat, his throttled breathing.

The scent of her hair...it was like strawberry fields. He hadn’t ever guessed she’d smell like that, although it made perfect sense, wrapping her innocence and ripeness all into one. And as her fingers burned into his skin, he almost melted.

This close...yet this far from her.

“Is that you?” she asked. “Really you?”

“You’d better hope so.” He waited. “Last time, you said you didn’t know how far we could take the watching, so—”

“You’re changing it up.”

A wavering laugh came from her, and she let go of his wrists even as she kept her hands nearby, still raised in the air, as if she didn’t know how else to react.

“I didn’t think you’d do something like this,” she said. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll take off the blindfold and turn around to see you?”

“No.” Because then this would all become too real for both of them. “This way we don’t owe each other anything. You go back to your life, I go back to mine, both of us remembering the single week we had with a fantasy.”

She’d started to lower her hands all the way.

He kept whispering. “Part of me can’t believe that you accepted this invitation. Then again, part of me knew that you would.”

“Based on what I’ve seen so far, I would’ve been insane to refuse everything you have to offer.”

God, her hair. He closed his eyes, taking in the scent, heady with it.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“To do what?”

“I’m not going to tell you, and that’s why you have to trust me.” All there would be in this so-called relationship was a tenuous thread—trust—joining their fantasies together. No emotion. Just two people who were happy with having each other’s bodies.

Carla couldn’t have faulted him for that. But when it came to his heart and giving it away to someone else? Never.

A few beats passed, stilted, as soft as a ticking watch pressed under a wad of cotton.

“I trust you,” she said, lowering her hands all the way.

Something in his chest seemed to flip-flop, but he shoved that aside. She’d just given him permission to go ahead, and that was all he’d been hoping for.

He tied the blindfold at the back of her head. When he was done, he asked, “How does that feel?”

“Fine.” He could tell she was off-balance by the way she took a tiny step to the side.

Instinctively, he laid his hands on her shoulders, feeling warmth beneath her blouse. Skin. Her.

His belly tumbled, his blood boiled.

“You sound—” she seemed to search for words “—tall.”

“You can tell by where my voice is coming from?”

“Yes. Almost a head taller than I am.”

His lips were only inches from her hair, and they itched to press against her. He wanted to breathe her in without any space between them, but he resisted.

“What else can you tell about me?” he asked, knowing that taking away one of her senses, like her sight, would sharpen the others.

“You smell like leather. Like you spend time outside...or maybe inside. The leather could be from the fancy furniture. And your hands...they’re strong. Big. Like maybe you work with them.”

That was true in his off-hours at his main home, a gentleman’s ranch up in Cambria, where he tended the horses. Otherwise, he was either at his desk with its computer or traveling, going from one investment to another: a new golf resort near Dallas, a start-up solar company in Nevada, a software company here in SoCal....

Not that she needed to know any of this.

He wanted her to feel more of his hands, so he slowly slid one from her shoulder to her neck. She gasped as he rested his palm at the base of her throat, strumming his fingers over her pulse.

It throbbed, echoing inside his own body, everywhere.

“What would you think,” he said, “if you felt my hands all over you?”

She laughed, again nervously. “More foreplay?”

“A lot more.”

He thought he heard a sound of surrender as he brushed her throat with his fingertips. His groin was pumping with a desire he could barely contain, his lungs so tight that he could barely talk anymore.

So he didn’t talk. Instead, he brought his other hand to the side of her head, angling it so her neck was exposed to his mouth. But he didn’t kiss her.

Too early. Too intimate.

He only allowed his breath to coat her skin as he listened to her own breathing quicken. Then he eased the hand at her throat down, over a breast, feeling how her nipple beaded beneath her thin blouse and her bra.

Rubbing his thumb around it, he held her as her knees gave out.

“That’s my beautiful girl,” he whispered in her ear, disturbing some strands of blond hair that had escaped from her braid. “Just give in.”

“I already have.” She reached up, bringing the hand he’d used to tilt her head down to her belly. “I know what I want from you, Callum. And I want it bad.”

Was she saying what he thought she was saying?

At the idea of actually entering her, flesh to flesh, he froze. A sense of betrayal clutched at him, because he’d told himself that he wouldn’t go that far with any woman, not even Leigh.

So he merely drew circles over her lower stomach with his fingers, toying with her breast with the other hand, making her press back against him. She’d be able to feel his erection through his jeans.

Damn it, he was ready, aching, but ever since Carla had died, there hadn’t been anyone....

Not the time to think about that.

He brought his hand up so he could unbutton Leigh’s blouse from the top down. One button. Another. He mimicked the teasing pace she’d used the other night when she’d undone the top of that country dress for him.

When he’d finished with the buttons, he drew the blouse from her shoulders, smoothing the material down her arms, letting it drop to the floor. Meanwhile, she hadn’t made a move to take off her blindfold, but he knew it was because she’d bought fully into the game they were playing.

The perfect partner for what both of them needed—nothing but a good time.

With her blouse off, the sun coming through the window showed him the details of her back, streamlined and graceful, with muscles that defined her body, a slim waist. Unhooking her pink bra, he let that fall away from the front of her.

He gently turned her around so she faced him. He saw her mouth first—the pretty pink lips that parted with every short breath, the strong chin with the near dimple, the slant of her cheekbones under smooth skin. He wished he could remove the blindfold so he could look into her eyes, see what color they were up close, even though Beth had told him they were an olive-green.

Instead, he gazed down at her breasts. Small yet firm, tipped by coral areolae that had gone hard for him.

Cupping her with his palms, he ran both thumbs over her nipples, watching them peak.

“How many men have done this to you?” he asked.

“I don’t want to think of other men.”

“I want to know.” He needed the mental distance that her past stories would provide.

“A few men. Not many. Not like this....”

She gasped again as he bent down and took a nipple into his mouth. Losing her balance, she planted her hands in his hair, grasping it while he used his tongue to swirl around her.

“Callum...” she murmured.

The sound of another man’s name pierced him, and he took his mouth off of her.

Why had it mattered? Why should it, when this was what they’d both signed up for?

He stood, her fingers still entwined in his hair, feeling its texture as if that would give her a clue as to what he looked like.

He let her do it until his chest got warm, and then he grabbed her by the wrists, lowering her hands. But he dived right back into the game as he trailed his fingers down her ribs, her waist, coming to where her wraparound skirt tied. With an aggressive tug, he undid that, and the material twisted to the ground, leaving her in just her blindfold, pink lace panties and boots. He could see a hint of hair beneath the pink, and the sight needled his cock.

Hooking his thumbs in the sides of her underwear, he raised the material up so it pressed against the center of her, and she fisted her hands by her sides. Then he pulled the material down, over her thighs, her knees, her boots. She stepped out of the panties, holding her hands out so she wouldn’t fall.

Damn, she was pretty everywhere—pink in her center, fine blond hair covering her. He helped her off with her boots and, controlling himself, setting the pace, he went to the bed.

“Where are you?” she asked.

When he looked back at her, she had her hands in front of her, searching for him.

“Right here.” He moved back to her with the negligee in hand. “Raise your arms.”

As soon as she did, he lowered the garment over her, and he could see her shiver as the filmy material whisked along her skin.

“Come here,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the bed, sitting her down. Then he bent to a knee, taking one stocking, sliding it up her leg. It was the kind that had sticky stuff that held up the silk, so he didn’t have to fasten any garters.

He skimmed the second one up her other leg, trying hard not to look at the pink between her thighs again. But it was nearly impossible.

Grabbing her hand once more, he helped her up from the bed, turned her around, then decided to forget about the matching robe. He wanted as much skin as possible to go with the negligee.