Naked Treats (4 page)

The sun had set, throwing its colors onto the
neighboring buildings and the lazy river that wound away in the
distance. An evening breeze cooled his face. Some kind of small
bird lit on the railing and then flitted away. Gradually, Zack came
back to reality.

This simply wasn’t going to work.

He couldn’t wait any longer to have her.

He had thought he could, but this relentless pull
toward Rose had become stronger than anything he’d ever experienced
before. He turned and leaned back against the rail, staring through
the glass of the sliding door. She was setting the table. A pair of
tapers threw flickering light on the terrain of her face and body
as she moved about the room.

An odd sense of yearning spiraled through him, the
implications of it stunned him cold.

He wanted her in his bed, yes. God knows he’d wanted
to fuck her since the first morning she’d appeared in that sweet
little apron of hers.

But he wanted her there in his kitchen, too, setting
his table. And he wanted her to look up at him and smile, and then
stroll out onto the terrace with her own drink. He wanted her to
stand beside him at the railing and watch as the sunset colors
faded from the sky. He wanted her long, slim fingers intertwined
with his.

Damn. Damn. He was so screwed.

One night with Rose, if she ever did give him the
opportunity, wouldn’t be enough.

Chapter Four

She had broiled the rib steak to a perfect medium
rare, its fragrant juices pooling just a little on the plate. He
slid the steak knife through the meat and dipped the bite into the
wonderful horseradish sauce before popping it into his mouth. On
the other half of his plate, a russet potato oozed with melted
butter, crème fresh and chopped chives. Zack closed his eyes and
savored the incredible flavors and aromas that Rose had coaxed from
the dinner ingredients.

But the wonderful meal was all a little wasted on
him. He sat in his halo of intimate candlelight all alone. She had
chosen not to sit down with him as she normally did at breakfast.
Instead, she hovered in the kitchen, fussing quietly with the
custard and washing the broiler pan. For the third time he asked
her to join him.

“Come sit with me, Rose. Please. I promise I don’t
bite.”

She chuckled. “Oh, Mr. Cranston, I think that you
do.” Her breasts jiggled as she wiped the counter top.

Yes. As he watched her movements, he had to admit she
was right. If given the chance he would indeed bite. And suck and
lick and fuck her like there was no tomorrow. He sighed and turned
back to his steak.

Several more minutes of silence ticked by while she
puttered at the sink.

“Coffee with your custard?” she finally asked.

“Yes please.” After two scotches and the wine with
dinner, coffee was a good idea. The more rational he could remain
the better. He’d been thinking it over as he sat there watching
her. If she wouldn’t respond to his playful advances, then maybe
the way to her heart was through her pocket book. Offering her
extra money had gotten her here tonight. He had a sense that she
really needed the money. What else would she be willing to do for
cash?

A flare of excitement riffled through him at the
illicit idea of paying her for sex. He’d never had to do that with
anyone before. Would Rose draw the line there or did she need money
bad enough to give in to him?

Nah. He forked the last succulent bit of steak into
his mouth. She might work naked as a gimmick, but she’d been clear
with him about the no touching policy. She would only let him go so
far and then she’d walk. No matter what, he couldn’t let that
happen.

She came toward him with the carafe of steaming
coffee and filled his mug. Then she picked up his empty dinner
plate and set a custard cup nicely displayed on a saucer with a
paper doily underneath in front of him. Her apron tickled his arm.
She stood so near he could see the gooseflesh on her pale thighs.
He gulped. He could practically feel her velvety skin under his
fingertips.

He flexed his fingers, then forced himself to pick up
his spoon and dip into the warm custard. He was just letting the
first bite of sweet goo melt in his mouth when his cell phone
buzzed.

****

Rose walked back to the kitchen with the carafe and
dinner plate. She couldn’t help being a little curious about the
phone call. He’d never gotten a call before when she was here.
Trying not to be obvious, she slid the plate into the dishwasher
and rearranged the few pieces of flatware while she listened.

“Yeah, Dave. Seriously? When? Thanks.”

He pocketed the phone, got up and strode into the
living room where he picked up the TV remote and turned on the set.
She could barely hear the low staccato of a news broadcast. He
watched for a few minutes and then returned to the table, leaving
the sound on low in the background.

“Shit.” He flounced back into his chair and sat
staring into space.

“Everything okay?” she asked when he didn’t move.

He sighed. “One of my clients just escaped.”

“Escaped?” A strange buzzing started in the back of
Rose’s head.

He picked up his coffee mug and took a sip. “Yeah. He
and two other inmates just made a break from one of the state
prisons.”

“Which one?” she asked. But somehow, she already knew
the answer. Rose dropped the knife she held and flew across the
room. She turned up the TV volume just in time to hear the
announcer recap the breaking news story.

“Following the breakout, the Mid-Orange Correctional
Facility remains on lockdown tonight. We’ll have more details in
our eleven o’clock broadcast.”

She sunk down onto the leather couch, not even
noticing the cold surface against her naked skin.

Mikey.

Surely he wouldn’t be so foolish as to join in a
prison break. Not when she’d just practically promised him that
she’d have him home for Christmas. Her stomach heaved.

“What is it?” Zack bent over her, a look of
consternation furrowing his features. “Rose?”

It seemed as if his voice came from far away. In
fact, the whole room seemed to be telescoping around her, a swell
of nausea overwhelming her. She felt herself falling to one side.
And then there were strong hands gripping her arms, steadying her,
easing her head down onto a suede pillow. Then everything went
fuzzy and gray.

When she came to, Zack was on his knees beside the
couch, his gentle fingers stroking the hair back from her face. Her
eyes met his, reading something unnamable in their greenish depths.
Time seemed to stop as they stared at each other, only inches
separating them.

“You okay?” he whispered.

She nodded. Then she realized that his hand had
stroked a silky path down her arm to her hip and settled there.

And she was naked.

She shot upright, still a little woozy, and brushed
his hand away.

“I’m fine, fine. It was just that newsbreak. Those
prisoners. Did you catch their names?”

He got up off the floor and slid onto the chair
across from her.

“Not the other two. Why?”

“My brother—”

She clamped her mouth shut. She never told strangers
about Mikey being in prison.

“Your brother what?”

But then Zack Cranston wasn’t a stranger, was he? In
fact, hadn’t he pretty much just told her he was a lawyer? Maybe
she could take a chance and trust him.

“My little brother’s serving time at Mid-Orange.”

“Ah. What’s his name?”

“Mikey. Mike. Mike Phelps.”

A fresh wave of panic washed over her. She needed to
know that Mikey was okay. Even if he hadn’t tried to escape—of
course he wouldn’t do something so foolish—she knew that a breakout
could mean violence and unrest at the prison. What if he got caught
up in the middle of some kind of uprising and got hurt or even
killed?

“Is there news on another channel before eleven?”

“There’s the ten o’clock news on channel twelve.”

“Still two hours.” She leaped up and started pacing.
How could she wait two whole hours? She needed to know what was
going on now. She needed to talk to Lizzie. Her little sister would
be frantic if she heard about this.

“I need to go home now,” she said. She headed for the
kitchen. Only his coffee mug and the custard cup remained on the
table. She emptied the nearly untouched custard into the garbage
disposal, then added the mug and ramekin to the dishwasher, slammed
the door shut, and punched the “on” button.

“I’m sure he’s okay. I’m sure things are under
control there.” Zack leaned against the island watching her. In his
eyes she thought she could read compassion. His voice was calm,
reassuring. She wanted so badly to believe him. But how could he
know for sure what was happening at the prison? No one could.

“I need to be home with my sister.” Rose rushed past
him and into the powder room. Not bothering to dress, she shoved
her folded clothing into her bag and threw on her coat. She’d just
finished buttoning it when she came out. Zack stood in the entry
way, his cell phone to his ear.

As she was about to put her hand on the front door
knob, he covered it with his, preventing her from leaving.

She wheeled around and glared at him.

“Wait,” he mouthed at her silently. Then he said into
the phone, “Thanks, Phil. I appreciate it very much. Good luck
there.”

“I need to go.” She gritted her teeth and crossed her
arms over her chest, tapping her stilettoed toe. He slipped his
phone back into his pocket.

“Everything’s fine, Rose. Relax.” His hand still
covered the knob.

“Relax? My brother may be in real danger and you want
me to relax?”

“That was the warden’s assistant, Phil Bond. Your
brother wasn’t one of the escapees, and everything is quiet there
tonight. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Rose just stared.

“You called the prison?”

“Yes. I told you. I talked to the warden’s right hand
guy. I’ve known Phil for years.”

“You did that for me?”

“You seemed pretty upset.”

She nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. Mikey was fine.
The warden had everything under control. No need to freak out. She
tried on a shaky smile.

“I was. I was very upset. Thank you for doing
that.”

“Sure.” Zack’s hand fell away from the door and he
smiled back at her. “Stay and have dessert and coffee with me?”

She let out a big whoosh of air, feeling strangely
euphoric. “Okay.”

“Great. But I think I’m gonna need one of those
back-up custard cups you made. Some crazy lady seems to have thrown
mine out.”

Rose laughed. She felt so light, so carefree now.
What an odd sensation. She tossed her bag on the hall table.

“Let me help you out of your coat,” he said.

It was the simplest of gestures. Neither of them
understood its portent as she undid her buttons. Not until he
lifted the coat off her shoulders did they both realize she still
wore nothing underneath but the little lace apron.

Chapter Five

As Zack pulled the coat off her shoulders and down
her arms, everything changed between them. He heard the sudden
catch of her breath and saw the reflexive motion of her hands
fluttering up to cover her breasts. What a funny thing to do,
considering she’d always been bare-breasted in his home.

And yet he understood immediately.

Before, they hadn’t known any personal details about
each other. Now, he knew one of her best kept secrets.

Before, they’d maintained a certain professional
distance. Now, unbidden, he had done her a personal favor by using
his connections to ascertain that her brother was all right.

Before, she’d always undressed herself.

Now, he was touching her, removing her coat, exposing
her pale back and rounded ass, the backs of her curvy thighs and
calves.

He was, in essence, stripping her.

She didn’t turn around.

He hovered behind her, unable to breathe.

In the background, the news broadcast spit bits of
noise and light into the silent room. He let her coat drift to the
carpet.

“Rose.”

“What?”

“I don’t think I can wait any longer to touch
you.”

“Oh.” It was more like a breath than a word.

He let his hands come up and rest lightly on her
shoulders. Silken skin quivered beneath his palms. He stroked up
and down her upper arms, quieting her, then leaned forward and
buried his nose in the soft luxury of her hair. There was that
faint tropical scent again invading his nostrils, along with the
clean smell of Rose herself. He found her neck hidden in her hair
and placed small kisses there as his hands moved to her ribcage and
then down her hips. As he cupped her ass she let out a long, shaky
sigh.

“You’re so beautiful, Rose. Do you know that? Do you
know how long I’ve waited to touch you?”

“But—”

“I know. This changes everything between us.”

“Yes. It has to.” She sighed again.

“I don’t care. Take your hands away, Rose.
Please.”

He reached around her and put his hands over hers,
pulling them away from her body. Then he palmed her warm, naked
breasts. So soft, so sexy. His already hard cock stiffened and
lengthened inside his slacks. He snugged up against her so she
could feel it. Beneath his palms, her nipples unfurled into firm
little points. He pinched them lightly and she gasped.

“Mr. Cranston!”

“For God’s sake, Rose, I’m playing with your tits.
Can’t you call me Zack?” He kneaded the soft globes, his thumbs
scraping across their tender tips.

“Oh, Zack.” Her hips pressed back against his
erection, her head lolled against his shoulder. “I don’t—I’m not
sure about this.”

“I’m sure enough for both of us,” he growled.