Georgina's eyes narrowed into slits as she assessed him. What was happening to her? Men had never come on to her like that before. Could it be that since she'd become sexually active, she'd begun to emit some kind of signals that suggested she was available?
"What does looking after me entail?” she asked him cautiously.
Sebastian leered. His eyes roamed over the white bikini. “I'm sure we can think of something,” he told her. “It gets really hot in the middle of the afternoon. The usual custom is to retire for a siesta."
"Oh,” Georgina said before she could stop herself. Then she bounced up and strode over to the pool. The man was so disconcertingly handsome. She got all tongue-tied when his bold eyes explored her body. She'd thought herself cured of all that awkwardness, but she'd been wrong.
The water enveloped her as she lowered herself down the wide curving steps. A sound of running feet followed her, and then a splash. A brown torso dove past her and broke the surface a few yards ahead of her.
"Come on,” Sebastian called out, shaking water from his long hair. “It's not that cold.” He swam up to her and pulled her off balance, toppling her in.
Georgina shrieked, and it was only partly because the water was so cold. A more immediate worry was that her tiny white bikini was fine when lying down. It didn't seem to be designed to stay in place during vigorous motion. She reached behind her back to adjust the straps.
"Just take it off,” Sebastian said. “I'm not wearing anything."
Through the water, she realized he was telling the truth.
Rick stamped his foot on the gas in the rented Corvette and picked up speed. It had taken him an eternity to get past the tractor that had slowed his progress to a crawl. Damn his decision to cut through on Route 79 and Route 74. He should have stayed on the Interstate.
The call from Domenico Diaz that morning gnawed in his gut, like an icy grip of fear. What did the old man mean, when he said he needed help to persuade Georgina to cooperate? She was supposed to have already made it clear that her financial expertise was for sale. What more could possibly be required?
Rick shuddered as he considered the methods of persuasion men like Domenico Diaz employed. He cursed the impulse that had made him agree to Georgina's plan.
Tapping his fingers impatiently against the dashboard, he calculated how much longer. Another hour at least. He ought to make it to Palm Springs for midday. If he did, he might get a chance to talk to Georgina in private before everyone gathered together for lunch.
Rick drove another fifteen miles until he needed the directions he'd scribbled down along the edge of yesterday's newspaper. A left turn here, then another three miles north. He ignored the rolling hills, only becoming interested in his surroundings when he reached the suburban development and had to navigate.
He spotted the security fence from a distance. Pulling up to the steel box, he gave his name, tilting his face up to the camera.
The gate opened slowly, and Rick drove through.
After parking in the circular drive, he went up to the front door. Next to the wrought iron knocker he located a button. He pressed. Overhead, the camera whirred as it focused on him. Rick raised a hand in a lazy salute and waited until a black-clad maid opened the door. She told him Mr. Diaz was resting, but would see him after lunch. When Rick asked, the maid informed her Miss Coleman was at the pool.
Rick strode over, cursing the damn suit that made his skin itch in the autumn heat. When he rounded the corner of the cobblestone path, he took in the scene ahead of him, stopped for an instant, and then hurried the rest of the way.
Georgina floated in the pool, doing a slow backstroke. An athletic young man, dressed in nothing but a pair of riding breeches, stood next to a circular garden table. His long hair hung dripping wet down to his shoulders. Drops of water clung to his arms and chest. It was clear that he had only just got out of the water. He poured a drink out of a pitcher into a glass, watching Georgina through hooded eyes.
Then he must have heard Rick's footsteps, because he turned around.
"
Hola,
” he said. “You're Rick Camacho, right?"
"It depends,” Rick said. “Who are you?"
"I'm Sebastian Glennon. Domenico Diaz is my father. He told me to expect you."
Rick nodded his assent. His eyes followed Sebastian's gaze, which had drifted back to Georgina. Rick clenched his teeth, fighting a burst of temper. Georgina was prancing around in front of macho Colombian thugs, wearing that goddamn white scrap of a bikini that hardly covered anything at all. Did the woman have no sense at all?
"It's a pity you came out all this way,” Sebastian said, his gaze lingering on Georgina. “I'll take care of the
gringa
. You'll not be needed after all."
Rick struggled to keep his voice even. “What are you talking about?"
Sebastian flicked his eyes away from the pool. “Didn't Diaz explain?"
"He said she needed persuading. I didn't think there was a problem. She's a willing seller."
Sebastian shook his head. “Diaz wants insurance that she won't talk. He wants her to be the go-between and do the cash drops. That way she'll be tainted enough to go down if something goes wrong."
"Is she refusing?"
"She's hesitating. Diaz thinks it would help is she gets involved with one of the men. Keep her loyal. Ramon tried last night, but she laughed at him. But no problem, I'll take care of it tonight.” He glanced at his watch. “If I can wait that long. She's sexy as hell. The intellectual type really turns me on. I might have her this afternoon."
Rick told himself to keep his mouth shut until he had counted to ten. He only made it up to four. “The
gringa
is mine,” he said. “Perhaps you father didn't realize."
Sebastian's forehead furrowed. “Was yours,” he countered with a nonchalant wave. “I'm taking her over."
"No,” Rick said. “She's mine."
Sebastian turned slowly. He lowered the glass on the table. “How do you suggest we settle this?"
Georgina floated in the pool, getting used to the cold water that had stung when Sebastian had first pulled her in. Her mind mulled over things. She realized that Rick was probably right when he claimed she had a problem with thinking too much.
She couldn't help it, though. Analyzing events and feeling was the best way to make sense out of them.
For example, why did Sebastian make her feel threatened? Rick was bigger and stronger and more masculine, but he made her feel safe. Was it because she'd got to know Rick by now, but Sebastian was a stranger? It couldn't be that, because Rick had made her feel safe as soon as he'd first spoken to her. It had to be something else, some fundamental difference in the two men and how she reacted to them.
Georgina flipped over to tread water and searched for Sebastian with her eyes. She found him standing by the side of the pool, sipping a drink from a tall glass. Georgina almost gulped in a mouthful of water when she saw who stood next to him.
Sebastian set his glass down on the table, saying something Georgina couldn't hear. Rick shrugged out of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Sebastian reached over to a chair and covered his bare torso with a long-sleeved jersey with a white number four sewn on the back.
Then the two men crouched and began to circle each other, their hands clenched into fists, raised level with their faces.
Georgina splashed over to the steps and waded out of the water. Not stopping to dry herself, she pulled on her skirt and top, over the wet bikini. By the time she was dressed and reached the men, the first blows had already been exchanged.
"Stop,” she screamed.
Rick gave her a quick glance. That distracted him just long enough to allow Sebastian to connect with a lightning jab.
"You keep out of this,” Rick shouted at her. Then he charged at Sebastian.
Georgina watched in horror for a few seconds. Rick had the power, but Sebastian had the speed. There was no way she could tell which way it would end. Why did men have to be such children? It was probably some stupid disagreement that would be forgotten by tomorrow.
A thud sounded as Rick's fist connected with Sebastian's chest. Another followed when Sebastian repaid him. Then the men tangled together, like in an awkward dance, until Rick shunted Sebastian away, and the circling with fists raised resumed.
There had to be something she could do. Georgina spun to search the surroundings. Her gaze fell upon the open-topped red sports car that had to be Sebastian's. If she could get the alarm to go off, that would draw their attention and stop the fight.
She dashed over, slowing down to an awkward gait when the cobblestones ended, and the sharp gravel bit into the tender soles of her bare feet.
The keys were still in the ignition. Georgina reached into the car and pulled them off, but the alarm remained silent. She leaned inside and pummeled the dashboard with her hands. Nothing happened. The car was a European design, with a stick shift, and a handbrake on a lever between the two front seats.
Georgina reached out for the handbrake. She lowered it and tried to rock the car to make it move. Nothing happened. Realizing the car would have to be in neutral gear to move when the engine wasn't switched on, she curled her fingers over the gear stick and yanked. A terrible crunching sound echoed somewhere deep in the bowels of the car. The gear stick felt loose now. She could wiggle it side to side, which meant it was in neutral.
Leaning her weight against the bodywork, Georgina pushed as hard as she could. The car rolled a foot, but the alarm didn't go off.
Of course. She was a fool. Because the keys had been in the ignition, the alarm wasn't activated. She needed to press a button on the remote. Georgina reached into the car to retrieve the keys she'd tossed over the seat. Her weight, as she leaned over the side, rocked the car another foot. Then it caught its own momentum, and begun to roll along the stretch of gravel that sloped down toward the pool.
Georgina barely managed to push herself free and remain upright. She watched in horror, Rick and Sebastian and the fight totally forgotten. The car tilted as it hit the edge of the pool. Then the front toppled in. With a horrible screeching noise, the bottom scraped against the edge of the concrete. For a few seconds, the rear wheels spun in the air. Then the car slid into the water. The front bobbed up again, and the little red vessel sailed safely for a few moments, before it began to sink.
"Your car,” Georgina yelled, remembering the fight.
Sebastian glanced in her direction. She pointed. His eyes followed. His jaw fell open and he stood and stared, his fists lowered down his sides. Rick took advantage and slammed in a right hook. Sebastian flew backwards through the air, falling into an inert heap over the cobblestones.
Georgina rushed up. She kneeled next to him and began to pat his face. Rick reached down to grab her arm. “He'll live,” he said, yanking her up.
"Let me look at him."
"No,” Rick grunted. “You're coming with me."
When she resisted, he grabbed her by the waist and hauled her over to the garden table. He lifted her to sit on top of it. Flicking up her wide skirt, he dragged down the white bikini bottoms and tossed them to one side. Then he undid his trousers and pushed her thighs apart with his body.
"What are you doing?” Georgina asked, her eyes going wide with shock.
"What does it look like?” Rick replied. “Sit still."
"You can't,” Georgina said. “People will see."
"That's the idea,” Rick told her, but he pulled her skirt down to cover where their bodies were joined. Then he thrust inside her and began moving.
"Say you are mine,” he demanded, sliding in and out of her, gripping her buttocks to keep her in place.
To Georgina's horror, the fight, the car, and the public spectacle they were making all combined to an unbearable erotic abyss she found herself sinking into. Her body began to respond. She threw herself back, leaning her hands against the table behind her, arching to meet his thrusts.
"Say you are mine,” Rick demanded once more.
"You're mine,” she retorted.
"That, too, but you know that's not what I meant."
Georgina kept silent. Her eyes flew open and locked into his.
Rick stopped, as abruptly as he had started. “Say it."
"Don't stop,” she pleaded. Every nerve of her body was on fire, screaming for completion of the decadent act they had started.
"Say it.” Rick's fingertips dug into the soft flesh on her buttocks as he pulled her closer, fitting himself deeper inside her, but not moving.
"No."
"Do as you are told,” he said. “That was the deal."
She glared at him, remembering the promise he'd extracted from her. “I'm yours.” She threw it at him like a curse.
He began to move again inside her.
The world around her disappeared, leaving just the two of them, and the tension that grew and grew inside her like a tightly wound spring, until it broke and sent her into a wild burst of madness that was so complete she wouldn't have believed such utter abandon existed.
"I'm yours, yours, yours.” She chanted it louder and louder, following the rhythm of her bucking and thrashing body while he emptied himself into her.
Rick stood absolutely still, wedged between her open thighs. Georgina slumped against him, her hands draped over his shoulders. Then Rick came back to life. He pulled away from her, shaking himself and buttoning up his flies. “I'm glad we got that sorted out,” he told her. “Smile for the camera.” He pointed up to the edge of the cabana roof. Then he swaggered away.
Georgina steadied herself against the tabletop. When she looked up, she saw the steely glint of a security camera against the sun. It pointed directly at her. Then it jerked into motion and resumed its steady sweep over the pool area.
She jumped off the table. It was only when the sticky discharge began to run down her legs that Georgina realized Rick had made love to her without protecting her from pregnancy.
She ran back into the house, wiping her legs with the hem of her skirt. The back door swung open as she gave it a push. No need to lock up when the place is wired with cameras and teeming with security guards, Georgina thought bitterly.