Sweetest Taboo (10 page)

I don't know how long I stay like that, my head resting on his shoulder, my naked body pressed tight against him, with only a light blanket over me. I feel remarkably well taken care of, like something precious to him.
Something fragile,
a small voice in my head adds, and I can't help but frown.

“Tell me what you're thinking,” Dallas says, because he never misses a trick.

I consider lying, but since I almost left him over secrets, that would be wildly hypocritical. So I tell him, and he just shakes his head.

“You're far from fragile,” he says. “If you were, you couldn't have put yourself back together all those years ago.”

“Have I? I mean, I spent my adult life in various self-defense classes and it didn't do me a damn bit of good when that bitch tased me.”

“Anyone can be a victim to a determined attacker.”

He's right—I know he's right—but I still feel argumentative. Probably because when I think about the attack I still feel scared. Vulnerable. And that's not a feeling I like.

Purposefully, I shift the conversation. “You haven't told me about what happened out in the hall with Bill.”

“Not much to tell,” he says. “He's worried about you, jealous of me. And,” he adds with a hard edge to his voice, “he seems suspicious about where we were at the crack of dawn.”

Immediately, I stiffen. “Do you think he suspects something? About you? About Deliverance?”

“I don't know.” He shifts, rolling over a bit so that we're face-to-face. “But I will say that he's the last person I want to talk about while we're naked.”

“Oh, really?” I start to trail a finger down his chest. “So what do you want to talk about? Or do you want to talk at all?” I ask as I follow the arrow of hair down his lower abs to his cock.

I see the heat flare in his eyes and bite my lip in anticipation of round two. He reaches down, and though I expect a sensual touch, he surprises me by closing his hand over mine.

“I want to know what put that look in your eye when I came into the apartment. What did Joel tell you? Are our shenanigans wreaking havoc with the financing?”

I grin at the word “
shenanigans
,” but have to nod. “Joel says he'll handle it. Apparently Lyle has some issues. Apparently they're with us.”

“You met him, right?”

I nod. “Yeah. We got along great.”

“So talk to him now. This movie is important to you?”

“You know it is.”

“Then go after it. Don't wait for Joel to work it out. You want Tarpin, go after him.”

I consider that. “I am good at going after men that I want,” I say in a teasing voice. “I went after you and got you, didn't I?”

He chuckles, and I feel the vibration rumble through me. “Yeah, well you already had me. I was just in denial. So were you, for that matter.”

“Until I decided I couldn't live without you.”

“Well, go to Los Angeles and do the same with Tarpin. Except,” he adds with a wry grin, “not exactly the same.”

“You'll come with me?”

“Baby,” he says, flipping me over so that I'm on my back and caged between his arms. “I'm always with you.”

I haven't owned it long—only since I sold the film rights to my book and started to write the screenplay—but my LA home is one of my favorite places. It's situated just off Mulholland Drive, and I love the way the back of the house is mostly glass with a view of the hills and the city below.

It's always full of light, and the yellow walls and the bright photographs that I've hung in the bedroom make it so cheerful, that I inevitably smile whenever I wake up here, and today is no exception. Especially since Dallas is here with me.

Except he's not actually here.

We'd managed to catch the last flight out last night, and had arrived at the house at just before midnight California time, which is three in the morning in New York. We'd gone straight to bed and I'd fallen asleep in his arms. I'd expected to wake up that way, and now I look toward the bathroom, but there's no sign of him there, either.

The bedroom door is ajar, however, and I hear the soft murmur of words. I frown, wondering who's in the apartment, then I realize he's on the phone.

“I haven't heard from him, either,” Dallas says. “I know. I'm worried, too.”

There's a pause, and then he says, “You know Colin, Mom. He probably took off with some buddy and is in the middle of the Caribbean on a yacht trying to close some sort of deal.”

I wince. Because, of course, Colin is about as far away from a sun-soaked yacht as you can possibly get.

He ends the call before I get out of bed, and by the time I'm done in the bathroom he's finishing another call. “All right, sounds good,” he's saying as I walk into the room. Then he slips his phone in his pocket and smiles at me. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning, yourself,” I say, sliding into his arms. He's already showered and dressed in jeans and a pale green T-shirt that brings out his eyes. He smells like soap, and I breathe deep. “I heard you talking to Mom.”

His smile downshifts to a frown. “She's still trying to get in touch with Colin. She's starting to get worried.”

“Yeah, she would.”

“Adele's concerned, too,” he continued. “She called about ten minutes before Mom did.”

Immediately, I tense.

“Jane,” he says tenderly. “There's nothing—”

“I know.” I snap the words at him, though the truth is I'm mostly annoyed at myself. I step back out of his arms under the pretense of getting coffee; I feel silly about my reaction, and don't want him to notice how tense Adele's name makes me.

“Was that who was just on the phone?” I ask casually as I head toward the kitchen.

He follows me, and from the hint of a grin on his mouth I'm certain he recognizes my tactic. “No, that was Damien. I've got a meeting with him tomorrow.”

“Damien Stark?” I've started to fill the coffee carafe, and now I look up. Stark is a former professional tennis player turned billionaire entrepreneur and the CEO of a business conglomerate that makes our Sykes family business look like a garage sale. Dallas and Damien have worked together before, but that was because Stark Real Estate is developing some projects with Sykes Retail. But since our father fired Dallas after he learned about our relationship, that project is no longer Dallas's concern. “What's the meeting for?” I ask. “You're not with Sykes Retail anymore, so…”

“Not Sykes business,” he says. “Tech stuff for Deliverance.”

My eyes go wide.

“Damien doesn't know about Deliverance, though he may suspect something. Don't worry,” he says in response to my look of shock. “I trust him.”

“All right,” I say, still a little nervous. “So what's the tech?”

“Noah designed a listening device. It's groundbreaking. Allows you to essentially have ears on an entire building from a single operational point. It has the potential to be huge in the market—and exceptionally useful for an entity like Deliverance.”

I nod; I can see that.

“Since I can't manufacture it without garnering attention, we licensed it to Stark. He builds it, pays Noah a royalty, and sells the tech back to me at a highly discounted rate.”

“I get it,” I say. “And so the meeting's about that?”

“Exactly.”

“But that's tomorrow. You don't have any work planned for today?”

“Not a thing. You?”

The coffee has started brewing, and there's enough in the pot for a half cup each. “Not a thing,” I say as I grab two mugs and pour us each a shot of caffeine. “Joel's in Palm Springs today on a set, but he's got Tarpin coming in tomorrow afternoon, so I guess I have a chance at keeping him on the picture.” I gulp my coffee. “So this works out great. We're both free, and today we're going to do nothing but have fun.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Not just a fact, it's a plan.” I kiss him, then back away with a grin. “Give me ten minutes to get changed, and the fun will begin.”

He chuckles and I hurry to my closet to find something to wear. When I return, I'm in a sundress and flip-flops. He looks up, his expression of concentration shifting to appreciation as he watches me do a little twirl, making the skirt flare.

“What are you working on?” I ask, heading toward him.

He puts the tablet down and shakes his head. “Nothing we need to worry about today. Where are we going?”

“I was thinking Universal Studios.” I love that theme park. The rides are great, but what I love the most is the tram that takes you around the back lot so that you can see old movie and television sets. “And after that, maybe hit a bar near the beach and have a drink on the patio.”

“Lead the way.”

As it turns out, the day goes pretty much as planned. We spend about three hours at the theme park, eating fast food and holding hands on the rides and strolling through the movie memorabilia shops.

After that, we rejoin the throng on the CityWalk outside the park entrance and browse the various shops that line the retail area. We buy matching Hollywood ball caps and put them on. Mostly just because we're being silly, but they have the added benefit of making us less recognizable.

Not that that's much of an issue. I've seen a few people do a double take when they look our way, but I've decided to attribute that to the fact that Dallas is so incredibly gorgeous, and not to any notoriety the two of us might have.

The only change in the plan is that we don't go to the beach. Universal is in Studio City, which is just over the hill from my house, and neither of us want to deal with LA traffic to get to the coast. Instead, we pop into Gelson's and buy grapes, pâté, cheese, and crackers, along with champagne and caviar.

Back at the house, we take the food and some wine out to the back porch, saving the caviar and champagne for the evening.

We spend the rest of the afternoon curled up together on the giant round lounge chair I'd bought when I'd purchased the house. We snack and drink wine and read and talk. And we touch and kiss and snuggle. It's more intimate than sexual, and I absolutely love it.

On the whole, the day is perfect. But by the time evening rolls around, I'm ready for something more. Something hotter.

Something like Dallas. Naked.

Naked and inside me, actually.

He shifts on the lounge chair to refill his wine and grins at me. “I can read your thoughts.”

“Can't.”

“No?” He trails a finger from my collarbone over my breast and all the way down to my clit.

I whimper. “Well, maybe you are a little psychic.”

He kisses me gently, but though I expect it to build to more, he pulls back and asks me, “Are you worried about tomorrow?”

I think about it. “Not really. Even if I do lose the movie, I'll still have the book. I talked to my agent, and she says she's not concerned on that front at all.
Code Name: Deliverance
is moving forward.”

“Is it?”

I make a face. “Yeah, well, I may end up changing my theme a bit.” The premise of the book is the damage done by vigilante groups. And while I still hold to that theory where some groups are concerned, I've changed my mind about Deliverance now that I know who the players are and I've seen it from the inside.

“If Bill ends up arresting me, you can turn it into a memoir.”

I shoot him a hard look. “Don't even say that. I can't—Dallas, if something happened to you…”

He pulls me closer. “I know. God, baby, I know.”

I hear the catch in his throat, and it suddenly hits me just how well he does know. Because something
did
happen to me.

“I'm so sorry you had to go through that,” I say.

“Me? Oh, baby…” He cups my face, and I see something flicker in his eyes. “I want—”

“What?”

“You.”

My smile blooms bright. “You have me.”

“I want more. I want—” He stands, and I frown at him, not sure what's going on. “I want us. I want everything.”

“So do I. But we both know that everything is impossible for us. We're going to have to settle for what we can get.”

“I'm not the kind of man who settles, Jane. You know that.”

I do, but I can't imagine where he's going with this. I've done the research, and no state in America allows adopted siblings to marry. And most states—including our home state of New York—consider our sexual relationship to be criminal incest.

For that matter, I couldn't find any
countries
that would allow us to be together. I found a vague reference on the Internet that suggested that adopted siblings could marry in Sweden, but I haven't been able to confirm it.

And, honestly? I don't want to move to Scandinavia.

“Dad's going to be at Stark's office tomorrow,” he says. “I'm going to talk to him about rescinding my adoption.”

My eyes go wide. “Can you do that?”

“I've been doing research. It's not common, but there is precedent. But Dad will have to be on board.”

“Dallas, I don't think he'll—”

He presses a fingertip to my mouth. “Don't say it. Tonight, just believe it will happen. Okay?”

I nod. “It's just that—”

But this time he silences me with a kiss, and when he closes his mouth over mine I forget what I was even going to say, and just lose myself in this man I love.