Pink Satin (13 page)

She convulsed, her spine arching for him. He held her closer, allowing her less movement, pinning her hands to her sides. The other nipple he gave different treatment. He laved it to a swelling erection, blew on it to cool it, took it in his mouth to gently suckle.

Greer’s thighs tightened around his. He could feel her fingertips pressing down on his spine, but he paid no attention. He pressed her breasts together and kissed the cleavage he’d made. He kneaded the flesh, then massaged it, then traced fingertip patterns over and over those soft, swollen orbs. When he got around to it, he raised his eyes to hers again.

“Damn you, McCullough,” she whispered.

He smiled. “I haven’t even started, sweet.”

She wanted him. She wanted him in the most wanton way; she wanted him as she’d never conceived of wanting anyone. It wasn’t…nice. He was clearly determined to drive her out of her mind, and if he’d just let her touch him in return…

Her hand slid down his stomach, finding him. Ryan just that quickly removed her hand. “Not this time,” he murmured. “I’m a little too susceptible to being touched right now, love. Particularly to
your
touch. And there’s no way I want to be distracted from just…loving you. Not this time.”

She raised her hand again.

He said roughly,
“No.”

He looked so fierce. And his fingers drew such delicate patterns over her ribs, down her stomach. A finger traced the soft curl of hair between her thighs; she shivered helplessly. His mouth came up to hers, softening her unwilling cry as his finger probed her flesh. One finger, then two.

It wasn’t what she knew of loving, that fierce almost angry need. It was frighteningly full, consuming. She’d denied it for so long; she was burning with it, moving against his hand, feeling his palm against her softness, his finger relentless inside her.

A flame burst, then another. She buried her face in his shoulder, her lips pressed fiercely into his flesh. “Enough,” she whispered.

He stopped after a time—only, really, to smile at her. “You have miles to go, if you think that’s all there is to pleasure, love,” he murmured. “Honey, I think you have to accept that you aren’t going to get any sleep tonight.”

***

“Greer.”

“Hmm.”

“You’re
not
going to sleep yet.”

Ryan watched her open one sleepy eye, lift her head to look at him vaguely and then let her cheek flop back onto his chest.

“Ryan. I
am
asleep. You make a very good mattress,” she murmured.

“Thank you.”

“Am I cutting off your circulation?”

“Sweetheart, you cut off my circulation around three hours ago.”

“You should have said something.”

“Why? I want you just where you are.” His palm trailed a lazy path down her bare spine. “Now, don’t drop off again. We have unfinished business.”

The woman sprawled across his body like an abandoned waif had been exactly the sensual lover he’d known she could be. Actually, she’d proved an incomparable hedonist. She loved touching, and being touched.

But she certainly didn’t wake up easily. Even when his finger trailed up her side and she jerked away from his tickling, all he got was a momentary dour scowl and a sleepy yawn. “Business,” she echoed vaguely. “Actually, we do have business, don’t we? You never did say how you happened to be here. How you knew about Ray, why you drove all this distance—”

“Not
that
kind of business. We can talk about all that tomorrow. I meant important stuff.” Locking his arms around her, he rolled her over and stole the pillow from behind her head, tossing it on the floor.

Her eyes looked up at him disbelievingly. “You can’t still have the energy.”

“I didn’t hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“I want to hear you say how beautiful you are. I want you to say, ‘Ryan, I am a very sexy lady and I’m not embarrassed about it.’” His lips brushed hers fleetingly. “You
are
beautiful, you know.”

“Ryan.”

“The thing is, I need to know that you feel beautiful about yourself.”

She parted her lips and then hesitated, her eyes luminous on his, fully awake. “It was you,” she whispered. “It’s the way you make love to me, the way you make me feel.”

He shook his head. “Nice. Not good enough, but nice.” His palm cupped her breasts, then slipped down her stomach to the parting of her thighs. She responded immediately, her arms sliding around him, pulling him closer. “Are you going to say it for me?” he whispered.

“I can’t
say
something like that. I’d sound like an egotistical maniac.”

He sighed. “In some ways, you’re an extremely slow learner. You’ve obviously completely missed what I was trying to teach you. We’ll have to try again.”

“Will we?” she asked wryly.

“And you’re not going to get any sleep tonight until you tell me how beautiful you are.”

“I haven’t gotten any sleep so far. There doesn’t seem to be a great deal of difference,” she whispered wryly.

She was wrong, she discovered very quickly. Ryan had made love to her in ways she’d never thought of, seeking ways of giving her pleasure that had left her breathless, and tearful, and exultant. Her body seemed to belong to someone else. She was sensitive where she hadn’t known she was sensitive, responsive in ways she’d never believed she was responsive.

He hadn’t once claimed his own satisfaction. In some mystical way, as he knelt over her, as he probed that core of her in the timeless way of man and woman, she looked into his eyes and knew he still wasn’t claiming her for his own pleasure.

She forgot the thought for a minute. He felt infinitely good inside her. She shuddered everywhere, within, without, all over, as he slid in and out in a slow, lazy rhythm. A rush of sweet yearning started to build, and his rhythm changed, quickened, feeding the greedy sensuality he’d taught her earlier.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

He lifted her closer to him, his palms on her bottom encouraging a deeper fit. He filled the hollow inside her, a hollow that seemed to reach as far as her heart.

She’d already discovered he was a man without mercy, but this time she also discovered that Ryan could be a heartless tease. The pleasure he’d given so freely he now withheld. He touched with love and he touched with tenderness, one moment claiming her as a pagan would claim his captive after battle, the next soothing her with a sensual serenade in which his movements were the rhythm and his whispers were the melody. He urged her to feel. Everything.

She felt. Everything. And he would completely withdraw just when she was certain the pinnacle loomed before her. Her body grew as slippery as his, feverishly hot, yet the man refused to yield control.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

“I’m beautiful,” she hissed desperately.

“Exquisite.”

“Exquisite.”

“Incomparably sensual. And loving it.”

She gathered she was supposed to repeat that, too. She raised her head, sealed his mouth closed with her own and sent her fingernails running down his spine.

After that, there wasn’t much talking.

“So you have the right to press charges, ma’am.” Greer stared in confusion at the polite uniformed officer standing in front of her with his hat in his hand. “I still don’t understand,” she said uncertainly.

Bright sunlight was pouring in the windows of Grant’s office. It was one o’clock on Friday afternoon. Grant was sitting behind his desk, looking at her, and Marie was pacing by the windows, furiously trying to send some message to Greer with hand motions.

“The most he’ll likely get is a fine. Nuisance calls are only a misdemeanor. Also, nobody seems to have seen him since last night. I’m not saying that he’s necessarily skipped town, but his place looks pretty empty of clothes and other personal things. We can probably track him down, but we need to know for sure whether or not you want to press charges. Miss?”

Greer saw Marie frantically nod her head, but she pushed her hands in the pockets of her dirndl skirt and leaned back against the wall. “No,” she said quietly.

Grant rose from his chair to escort the policeman out a few moments later, then closed his office door on the way back in. “Sit down, Greer,” he suggested.

Gratefully, she sank into the chair closest to his desk. Her legs felt numb. Actually, her whole body felt numb. “I can’t believe Ray was the one who made those calls,” she murmured. “I just can’t believe it.”

The whole morning had been disastrously confusing, partly because she’d had very little sleep. Ryan had had none at all; he’d left the hotel in Charlotte at five to drive back to work. She couldn’t drive back with him; there were still a few ends to clean up from the trade show, and she had her car besides. Ray had disappeared, but she hadn’t expected to walk into work this afternoon and discover he’d been fired. And before she’d had the chance to level a single question at Grant, the policeman had called from the lobby. She was still trying to absorb one shock, and then there was another.

Marie bounced in front of her, jangling bracelets dancing on her wrists as she pointed a scolding finger at Greer. “When I think of what that man put you through,” she said viciously, “I could kill him. And
you. You
should have immediately called us after what happened at the trade show.
And
pressed charges.” Still clucking like a mother hen, she whirled behind Greer to her husband’s credenza, immediately bringing back a cup of hot tea for Greer.

Greer put both hands around the warm cup gratefully, took a single sip and set it down. With haunted eyes, she stared at Grant. “I made him lose his job?” she said quietly. “I can’t seem to get any of this straight. He actually
told
you what happened in my hotel room? And he admitted the truth about the phone calls besides?”

Marie and Grant exchanged glances. “I fired Ray,” Grant said quietly, “for sexually harassing an employee. There’s no possible way I would have allowed him back here after what he did to you. I have the right to fire any employee for misconduct. Ray was my employee and acting as a representative for Love Lace every moment he was at the trade show. And frankly, we’ve been looking for an excuse to let him go for some time.”

“I don’t understand,” Greer said, bewildered. “I thought he always did an outstanding job.”

“He brought in a great many sales, yes, which is why we kept him for so long, but he didn’t get along with anyone, except maybe you. He couldn’t relate to people. Customers complained about him all the time; Tim has all but quit several times after one of their confrontations.”

“I didn’t know,” Greer said unhappily.

“His references looked impressive when I hired him. So impressive that I was foolish enough not to check. Yesterday, I made several phone calls to places he’d previously worked, and discovered that he was fired from each of those jobs.” Grant sighed. “Ray is ambitious and hardworking, but something is driving the man. Nothing’s ever enough. He always has to outdo the people he works around, and if he can’t, he tries subtle intimidation tactics.”

“Like those phone calls,” Marie said loudly. “I still want to know why you didn’t come to Grant or me, darling. You think we don’t care about you, that you are nothing but an employee to us? I am so disappointed in you I could scream.”

“Marie.” Grant’s voice was soft, but admonishing.

Greer touched trembly fingers to her temples. “What did I do?” she asked unhappily. “I never…threatened him in my job. Why did he pick on me?”

“Because he was a total ass,” Marie hissed.

“Perhaps,” Grant said quietly, “because you were someone he wanted and couldn’t have. It would fit the pattern. Not that I know about his personal life, but in his work, if he couldn’t achieve something he wanted, he made sure someone paid. Greer?”

She looked up.

“He was fired from one job for fabricating an elaborate set of reports that would have made another employee look bad. The saddest part about it was that the company wasn’t dissatisfied with Ray to begin with. He’d failed to bring in an account; it wasn’t the end of the world. He was the one who made trouble for himself.”

“He’s
sick,
”
 
Marie said emphatically. “Sick, sick, sick.”

“Sad,” Greer corrected in a low voice.

Grant nodded quietly to her over the desk. “He needs help, I expect. Psychiatric help. I told him that when I fired him.”

“But…how did the police know about the phone calls? And I still don’t understand why he told you what happened at the trade show. This morning when I learned he was gone, I assumed that he’d come back here, but—”

“He told us nothing,” Marie said heatedly. “Grant fired him over the telephone when Ray called this morning.”

“But—”

Grant leaned back in his chair. “Your Mr. McCullough made an extremely informative call to me earlier.” A small smile touched his features. “One of several in the last week, actually. After last night, I think he would have preferred to have Ray drawn and quartered, but he settled for explaining to me exactly what Ray had put you through. McCullough also persuaded me to make those reference checks yesterday. And he convinced the police to tap Ray’s phone last week. Unfortunately, they didn’t get a report back on that until yesterday.”

“What?”
Marie turned offended eyes to her husband. “You told me nothing about that part of it.”

But Grant was looking only at Greer. “Mr. McCullough had reason to believe that one of our employees was your caller. You changed your phone number twice; yet your caller knew that new number each time—and, of course, you immediately informed
us
of your new telephone number each time. Except for your family, who could have learned your number and your personal schedule so quickly, except someone you worked with?”

Grant’s voice was soothing, quiet. Greer had always found her boss’s voice gentling. Not this time.

Her thoughts were filled with Ryan. He’d done all of that. And he hadn’t said a single word.

***

Grant and Marie both urged her to take the rest of the afternoon off and go home. She didn’t. She wanted to think, and always thought best when she was busy. Mulling over a problem while facing four walls and total silence always sounded good, but it never worked for Greer.

She left several minutes before five, though. Ryan, of course, wasn’t back from work when she arrived at the apartment. She didn’t expect him to be. After running a brush through her hair, she left her door open and paced up and down the hall, Truce pacing directly behind her.

Ryan didn’t pop through the door until ten to six, early for him. He was dressed strictly as a businessman, in a pale gray suit that made his shoulders look huge, and was reaching for the newspaper when he noticed her at the top of the steps. She was standing stiff as a board, with her arms folded over her chest, eyes blazing.

He froze.

Greer’s eyes pinned him as securely as a collector pins a moth. “I would appreciate the chance to talk with you,” she said crisply. “I discovered exactly how much you were involved in getting Ray…caught.”

“Greer…” He took a very careful breath, eyes on her face. “You’re upset because I interfered. I don’t blame you, but try to understand. I didn’t want to go behind your back, but I knew damn well you’d say no if I asked you ahead of time.”

“You bet I’m upset. And as I said, I’d like to talk with you, McCullough. Like in an hour. Your place.”

“Greer…”

She turned on her heel, whirled into her apartment and locked the door. Truce screamed. She opened the door, let the cat bound in and relocked it.

Her heart shifted promptly into
race,
as though a computer button had suddenly been turned on. She flipped off one shoe, then the other, then padded barefoot toward the bathroom, unbuttoning her shirtwaist dress as she went. The pale lavender cotton dropped somewhere in the hall, and she left it there. By the time she turned on the shower taps, she was wearing only bra and pants, and she stripped those off as the shower warmed up.

Ten minutes later, she stepped out, fiercely rubbed her hair with a towel until it was half dry, then used a blow dryer and brush to do the rest. Naked, she walked to her bedroom and bent down over her lowest dresser drawer.

It was there. The cream lace on pink satin negligee. Her quick-quick movements slowed abruptly. Her fingers took the time to caress the soft fabric before she drew it out.
Really, Greer. This is terribly out of character.

And her heart was suddenly beating erratic rhythms. Old ghost rhythms.

For so long, she’d valued the safe niche she’d carved out for herself in her relationships with men. “Safe” was being a friend, not a lover. “Safe” meant caretaking and playing with men only when she was in control. “Safe” had been convincing herself that that was what she was as a woman, and all she was and wanted to be.

Ray had blown her definitions of “safe” off the map.

Ryan had made her see what she wanted and needed for herself as a woman.

Slowly, she slipped the satin over her head, and with a whisper it draped itself over her body and fell in long, sleek lines to the floor. Ryan had taught her a lesson in honesty. Now it was up to her to put his teachings into practice.

Fingers suddenly trembling, she drew on the cream lace peignoir that matched the negligee, and caught her reflection in the mirror. A boldly sexual woman stared back at her. An alluring woman. Her breasts were barely covered by the cobwebby bodice; she could see the dark tips of her nipples. Lower, she could even see the indentation of her navel: satin
did
show everything. Every curve, each line of her bottom and thighs, even the small raised mound that was the woman of her.

She sprayed perfume on her throat, then between her breasts and, with wildly shaking fingers, between her thighs. The perfume cooled, raising goose bumps on her skin. Leaning over the dresser, she brushed an almost imperceptible layer of mascara on her lashes and a subtle blush on her cheeks, then bit her lips to make them red.

Even watching herself in the mirror brought color to her cheeks, and she left the room in a rush, making it all the way to the door before she realized her palms were damp from nerves. Impatiently, she backtracked to the kitchen, dried her hands determinedly on a towel and rubbed some cream on them. It didn’t make any particular sense to apply lotion to damp hands, but Greer wasn’t acting rationally at the moment.

Old ghosts had to be exorcised. There was a man across the hall who seemed to think she was a sexually vibrant woman. Mostly because he’d brought out that side of her the night before. She’d been a participant then, not an aggressor, and that was the difference. Life just
refused
to be easy.

She opened the door, crossed the hall, took a huge breath and knocked on her neighbor’s door.

The door opened instantly. Ryan had his sleeves rolled up and a drink in his hand. He’d obviously run his fingers through his hair over and over, because that cinnamon-colored mane was impossibly tousled. Worry lines were etched around his deeply troubled eyes, and his mouth was parted to say something immediately when he caught sight of her. Caught sight of
all
of her.

His mouth abruptly closed. He leaned out into the hall and looked one way, then the other. Seeing no one else, he abruptly pulled her inside and out of sight, then slammed the door behind her and put his drink down on a table.

She hadn’t breathed yet, not in about the past five minutes as far as she could remember. Ryan leaned against the door, that frantically worried look only gradually leaving his face as his eyes slowly skidded over her body from throat to toe. And then again. And then again.

When his eyes finally traveled up to hers, they were sky blue, bottomless blue, and filled with love. Greer desperately, desperately wanted that love, but what she’d anticipated seeing in his eyes was desire. She had
not
expected him to shake his head with a scolding grin. “You knew damn well I was worried as hell when I walked in and you jumped me. I thought you were angry.”

“I
was
angry. With me.” Because he’d touched her. And she’d never touched him. Not the right way. Not in a way that honestly expressed how much she wanted him. Not in a way that told him she felt out of control and lustily wanton like some primal Eve when he kissed her, when he made love to her. And that really loving him meant finding the courage to express those feelings. She moved forward slowly, her eyes not on his face but on his top shirt button.

It had to go. So did the next. So did the next. He stood very still while she pressed slow, nuzzling kisses on his throat and neck. She pulled the shirt out of his waistband while still kissing him. And as she pushed it off his shoulders, she rubbed her breasts seductively against his bare skin. The feeling of Ryan’s warm flesh against her satin-and-lace-clad body was…delightful. Dangerously delightful.

For the first time in her life she was in the mood to court danger.

His shirt dropped to the floor. Her tongue lapped at the tiny flat nub on the right side of his chest; her fingers fumbled with his belt. It wouldn’t give. She felt his hand trying to nudge hers aside and murmured, “No. Let me.”