The Pleasures of Autumn (5 page)

He would stay here for a few minutes, Niall assured himself. He wasn’t enjoying holding her like this. He didn’t miss a woman in his bed. This wasn’t even his bed. But it was more comfortable than the lumpy child-sized mattress in the spare room. He stretched out his long legs. A few more minutes of comfort, to make sure she was sleeping soundly, and then he’d return to his own room.

Just a few more minutes …

Her head was pounding and her mouth tasted like something had died in there. Sinead tried to groan, but her throat was parched and it came out as a cough. She pressed a hand against her thumping forehead. How much whiskey had she had to drink last night? A heavy arm snaked across her waist and she was dragged against a large warm body. Niall palmed her breast with a possessive grip. He snuffled against the back of her neck before his steady breathing told her that he was still sleeping.

Oh god, I didn’t. Please don’t let me have fallen into bed with him.

Sinead risked a peek beneath the duvet. In the early morning light, she could see she was still wearing her panties, so they hadn’t had sex, but the strap of her camisole had fallen from her shoulder and Niall was taking full advantage of her exposed flesh. The desire to wriggle free wrestled with the unfamiliar pleasure of sharing her bed with a man. Hedonism won. Niall was still asleep and it wouldn’t do any harm to enjoy this for a few minutes more. She closed her eyes, savouring the pleasure.

The chest that pressed against her back was almost completely smooth. The muscular thighs that spooned hers were strong. On the small table beside the bed was a clasp for his hair. The sight of it made her want to turn in his arms. Before Niall, she had dismissed long
hair on men as an aberration, something for rebellious teenagers or ageing rock stars. He had definitely changed her mind.

Niall reminded her of a pirate from an erotic romance novel. She would love to see him standing on the deck of a frigate, wearing a pair of indecently tight pants, a white linen shirt and his hair loose about his shoulders. He could carry her off to his cabin, tie her to his bed and …

Something hard stirring against her thighs startled her. The hand on her breast was no longer still. Niall rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he slowly plumped her breast. God, that felt good. Sinead wriggled her hips experimentally against him and was rewarded with a lazy thrust.

Her aching nipple protested when it was abandoned and Niall’s fingers trailed slowly down her abdomen, learning each curve of her ribs and the soft rounding of her belly until he reached the lacy edge of her panties. She held her breath as he paused there as if waiting for permission to continue. A small whimper of excitement escaped her throat and her hips moved in invitation.

His hand slid beneath the scrap of silk and he hissed when he realized that she was completely smooth. In Lottie’s line of work she couldn’t be bothered with the endless maintenance. She was as bare as an egg, thanks to a series of laser treatments. His searching fingers slid between her folds and brushed her clit.

‘Oh god,’ Sinead moaned.

He nuzzled the tender part of her neck where it met her shoulder and bit down gently. ‘Say my name.’

The rough command in his voice sent an unfamiliar
tingle through her. She didn’t want him to stop. ‘Niall.’ His name came out in a breathless plea.

His fingers pumped her aching wetness slowly, drawing moisture from her before he brushed her clit again, sending a pulse of pleasure zinging through her. ‘Oh yes. Like that.’

She clenched her inner muscles, trying to draw him inside her again. He stilled and she huffed an impatient breath. ‘Please. Please, Niall.’

He traced over her tender nub, building sensation with every touch. She was so close and it had been far too long. His other hand caressed her breasts, pinching the sensitive peaks between his fingers until she was breathless and achy.

Her pulse raced, every nerve ending tingled. Tiny fireworks exploded behind her eyes. She was there. Her words an incoherent jumble interspersed with his name, always his name.

He bit down lightly on her shoulder again and it was enough to send her over the edge. She was a floating, boneless, trembling creature on a stormy sea of pleasure and he was her anchor; holding her close as the waves of ecstasy crashed over her and ebbed away.

Finally she was able to open her eyes again. The bedside clock still ticked out its steady rhythm, but her world had shifted on its axis. She wanted to say something, to thank him, but her voice didn’t seem to work.

Niall dropped a kiss on her shoulder. ‘You go shower while I make us some breakfast.’

He climbed out of bed and paused beside the door. ‘Sinead, can I ask you something?’

She rolled over and caught her breath. Holy hell. Had she just spent the night with him? Niall in a pair of boxer shorts was too much man for someone who hadn’t had a lover for a while. For anyone female. She realized that she was staring and he was still waiting. ‘Yes,’ she said, hoping it was the right answer.

‘You were having a pretty bad dream last night. Want to talk about it?’

She forced herself to smile. ‘Thanks, but I’m fine. It’s just an old nightmare.’

He nodded and shut the door behind him.

Sinead ran her hand along the warm part of the bed where he had lain. Her first sexual encounter in more than a year but he hadn’t kissed her or permitted her to touch him in return. Everything had been about her. Niall had been in total control and while she wasn’t sure if she liked that, her languid body certainly had.

How long had that taken? Minutes? Sinead cringed as she realized how wanton and needy she must have seemed. She flushed, wishing she had behaved with more dignity.

She must have had the nightmare again. Usually she woke in a sweat, battling with the sheets, trying to remember what had left her throat raw and her face wet with tears. This time, instead of spending the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, she had spent it in his arms. She inhaled his scent from the pillow and smiled.

Only then did she catch a glimpse of the bedside clock. 7.30. She had a moment of panic that she was late, before she remembered. Instead of being due at her desk that Monday morning, to work on plans for the exhibition, she was on bail. She was jobless and the highlight for the next
week would be meeting her lawyer and wondering how quickly the Swiss authorities would try her for stealing the Fire of Autumn.

They were convinced they had arrested the right person. She knew they were wrong and she had an incentive to find who really did it. She couldn’t lie in bed all day. She had a thief to catch, but at least she was no longer alone.

After a quick shower she went to the kitchen to find that he was using every saucepan she had. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Eggs,’ he announced. ‘Boiled, scrambled or fried. Take your pick. You don’t have any other real food here.’

‘I don’t eat in the mornings.’ It was true. Most days she ate a piece of fruit on the way to work and was on her second cup of herbal tea by eleven.

He raised one blond eyebrow in disapproval.

‘Except at weekends,’ she said, trying to placate him. She did need his help if she wanted to get out of this mess.

‘Pretend it’s the weekend,’ Niall said as he dished up four eggs onto his plate and poured himself a mug of coffee.

Sinead opened the container of organic muesli and poured fat free yoghurt over it before sprinkling some myrtle berries on top. She hunted for the grater and finely shredded half an apple on top, squeezed lemon on the other half and put it into the fridge for later. Finally she sliced a finger of fresh ginger into a glass and poured on boiling water before topping it up with cold.

Niall watched in fascination. ‘Are you for real?’

‘What?’ she snapped.

‘You’re not actually going to eat that … that stuff? I wouldn’t give it to a hamster.’

Sinead dug a spoon into her bowl and raised it to her mouth. The yoghurt had softened the grain mixture. It might not look like the most appetizing thing in the world but it was full of nutrients. She took a mouthful and chewed.

And chewed. The oats weren’t quite softened yet. Maybe she should leave it for a while longer.

‘I dare you to swallow it.’ His grin was openly challenging.

With a last vigorous chew, Sinead swallowed and smiled at him. ‘Says the man who has just eaten three eggs for breakfast. Maybe you should add some roughage to your diet.’

‘Four eggs, and my diet is fine, thank you. What’s up with you that you don’t have any real food in the house?’

‘I have real food.’ Well, she had until yesterday. The police had taken away the oddest things for examination and the rest she had dumped because she didn’t know how long it had been out of the fridge.

‘You need a bit of meat on you. You’re too thin.’

She snorted. She had gained ten pounds in the last few months. Since she had given up being Lottie, her weight had crept up. She had been a plump teenager and dancing kept her weight under control.

She had always loved dancing. The ballet classes she had been dragged to with her cousin had started a life-long addiction, but it was the dance classes taken during college that had transformed her. Latin, Tango and Zumba kept her fit, but her first burlesque class was a
revelation. She discovered that putting on a mask or a costume enabled her to leave shy Sinead behind and become someone who was flirtatious, sexy and confident.

Her early dance training had given her the poise and flexibility to become a professional and when she had arrived in London, she had braved her first audition. The hours were better than waitressing, but harder on her feet. Even though she performed only part time, to fit in with her MA studies at Sotheby’s, Lottie quickly became a star on the burlesque circuit.

Moving to Geneva and working extra hours to master her new role at the museum had taken its toll in a way she hadn’t expected. While trying to impress her employer with her serious, studious side, she had lost something.

She hated to admit it, but she missed being Lottie. Her alter ego wouldn’t have allowed Niall to bully her in her own home and Lottie wouldn’t have permitted him to leave her bed this morning without a rematch.

‘You didn’t seem to mind earlier.’

And that was obviously the wrong thing to say. He put down his knife and fork, reached across the breakfast bar and touched her cheek.

Sinead stared at the button of his shirt, unwilling to raise her eyes to meet his face.

‘Look at me.’

She kept her eyes fixed on his shirt button, hoping that he would stop. Instead his hand cupped her face and he raised her chin until she was forced to look into his eyes.

‘That was concern. Not criticism. And as for earlier, I liked you just fine.’

The smouldering heat in his eyes told her that he meant
it. He released her chin and leaned back but not before she realized that she was shaking.

This thing that had flared between them – whatever it was – was dangerous. And Sinead O’Sullivan didn’t do dangerous and certainly not with someone like him. This wasn’t a nice safe fantasy. It was happening too fast, and she didn’t like the feeling of being out of control.

‘Finish your breakfast and put on some more coffee. I’m going to take a shower and when I come back, we’re going to talk about the ruby.’

Sinead sat at the breakfast bar again and took another spoonful from her cereal. Niall was right. This wasn’t food. She looked longingly at the bits of scrambled egg on his plate. It did look good, but she didn’t have time to make herself an egg white omelette.

After scraping out her bowl, she went to the bookshelf. The cover of the notebook stated that women who read were dangerous. Inside the back cover was a scribbled list of names. She had hauled the battered notebook through school, college and her years in London. Among the names of school friends and work friends were a few special contacts. People she had done some private consulting for when they wanted to expose a fake, or find out if something was worth buying if the provenance couldn’t be completely authenticated.

When she got some privacy, she would make a few calls.

Niall shuddered as he touched himself in the shower. God, what had got into him? He never shared a bed with
a woman. Oh sure, he loved women, loved their shape and smell and the feel of their soft flesh under his hands, but he never stayed the night. They played, and then she left or he did.

What had happened last night that he had ended up sleeping in Sinead’s bed, and not just sleeping, but holding her in his arms? God, he was getting soft.

All but one part of him. He looked down ruefully at his engorged penis. It had been in a state of semi-arousal since he woke up. Cooking, and looking at her repulsive breakfast, had calmed him enough that he could conduct a rational conversation. She had looked up at him with those damnable eyes and reminded him of how he had woken up. His cock sprang to instant life and he’d had to take refuge in the shower.

He remembered the way her bottom, surprisingly full for such a slender woman, had nestled into his groin. It had been perfect, round with soft flesh covering firm muscle. He wondered idly if she lifted weights.

Her breasts had been a revelation. Somehow she had concealed them under the ugly clothes she wore and he had convinced himself she was flat chested. Niall swallowed. She was so far from flat chested; her breasts were beautiful, high and succulent and topped with prominent nipples that firmed up as soon as he touched them.