She grinned, noticing he'd gone straight for a chunk of simple cheddar. "Brie. Want a bite?"
"No." He plopped a hunk of bright gold cheese into his mouth, and she couldn't help thinking he'd probably much rather be eating a burger, so it touched her to know he'd organized all this for her.
She smeared the brie onto another cracker, then held it out. ''Try it." He still looked doubtful, until she chided him with her eyes, then said something he'd once said to her. "Don't be a baby."
He smirked playfully and let her slip the cracker into his mouth. She watched him chew, swallow, then wash it down with a long drink of wine.
"So?"
"I think I'll stick to the stuff I'm used to." "Well, I think it's delicious."
Amusement edged his eyes. "That's why you should eat it."
The trip continued with talk of the past-little things they remembered from being around each other as children, Lauren recalling that lanky boy on the basketball court who had turned so broad and muscular now. They talked about Isadora, and Lauren teasingly made Nick promise he'd try to be nicer to her. They talked about Davy, and he still wouldn't give an inch on how his brother had gotten hurt, but just like each time they'd discussed him, she saw the love in his eyes. She knew that, as before, he didn't realize he was opening up to her or he would have stopped, so she never said anything to remind him. They emptied the bottle of Chardonnay and opened another, and a pleasant tinge of intoxication made her bold enough to playfully lower grapes into his waiting mouth.
The sea breeze whipped at her thin wrap-around skirt as she loosely hugged her knees, and when things turned quiet, she glanced to the wide, empty beach to their right, then the horizon to their left. The sun sank downward, leaving a glorious Florida sunset to streak across an otherwise placid sky.
"Is this what it was like the night Davy named your company?"
Nick studied the horizon for a moment, then turned to her with a soft expression. "Kind of."
They stayed quiet as the glowing ball of orange descended over the ocean's edge, and when it disappeared, the sky took on hazier shades of mauve and powder blue. Gazing up at eyes made darker by the dusky air, she leaned gently into him, and he eased one arm around her. "Nick, the last couple of days have been ... really good." She was usually more eloquent, but didn't know quite how else to say what she was feeling.
He gazed down at her, but quickly lowered his eyes.
"Yeah," he said in little more than a whisper. She knew he wasn't accustomed to such admissions, even as simple as it was-- so, just like this. whole night, it meant more to her for the effort she knew it required.
When the sailboat returned to its slip an hour later, she thought she should feel sleepy from the wine she'd consumed, but she remained anxious about what would come next. The wine had relaxed her but done nothing to diminish the sensual energy that coursed through her veins whenever she was in Nick's presence.
Before they left the boat, they shared a slow, lingering kiss that filled her with familiar longings. "You wanna take me home to bed now?" she whispered, their lips barely parted. The captain tied the boat off a few yards behind them.
"Oh yeah," he said just as softly, and they soon thanked the captain and started across the dock toward the parking lot, hand in hand.
"Or"-she turned to look up at him with a playful smile-"is the bed too boring for you?"
A hint of fire burned in his eyes. "Not with you in it, Princess."
Lauren had developed a fairy-tale sort of idea about what the sex might be like now. After their gentle kisses on the boat, after the easy discussion they'd shared over their picnic, she imagined it the same way she'd envisioned it as a naive young girl: slow and gentle, with romantic music playing somewhere in the background.
But it wasn't meant to be. By the time Nick's Jeep pulled into her driveway, they both sped for the door, and she fumbled with her keys as he wrapped around her from behind.
"God, I want you," he breathed as they fell across her bed a moment later. Things went fast and frantic, their moans filling the air, and for those spine-tingling moments, her world became only sensation-Nick's mouth, Nick's hands, Nick inside her. It was only afterward that the quiet, gentle part finally happened, when she least expected it. He lay on top of her, their bodies still joined, and he grazed one palm slowly over her shoulder, breast, hip, thigh, then back again. Burying his hand in her hair, he kissed her-soft and tender.
Minutes later, he departed the bed with murmurings of the bathroom. And he might leave now, she warned herself. He might walk back in here, reach for his blue jeans, and go home.
And it's okay if he does. It's okay because you can't expect him to stay every night, and no matter what happens now, tonight has been special.
She closed her eyes and girded herself for that. But then she felt him slide back beneath the covers, pressing his naked body against hers, just before he whispered in her ear, "Tomorrow morning, you're making breakfast."
"So what are you making us?" Nick asked as the sun came blasting through the half-moon window. "I'm hungry." He dropped down to nibble at one breast, pleased when a sexy groan escaped her.
"For a guy who wants breakfast," she breathed, "you're not exactly giving me any incentive to leave."
One final kiss to her puckered nipple and he brought his face back up next to hers. "You're right. I'm finished. Go get us some food."
She laughed at his insistence. "How does French toast sound?"
"Great."
"Might take a while. Sure you won't miss me too much?"
"I'll miss you," he said, "but for French toast, it'll be worth it."
She rose naked from the bed and padded to a sliding closet door, where she retrieved that same short silky beige robe he'd first seen her in, making him think of how things had changed since then.
He drifted back to sleep while she was gone and, before he knew it, she was lowering the tray over him, then crawling back into bed. "Looks good," he said, easing himself up, never telling her how much he liked having her so close as they ate. He'd never had breakfast in bed until Lauren had come along, but now he saw the appeal -something about it extended the intimacy of the night before. Of course, that set off a warning signal in his head-a lot of things that'd happened over the course of their date had set off warning signals. But liking this, even liking her, meant nothing, he told himself. This was just fun, sex, and better than sleeping alone-that was all.
''Well, I'm having lunch with Carolyn today, and doing a little shopping first, too ... so. as much as I hate to drag myself back out of bed, I'd better get moving."
Her plans reminded him it was Saturday and that he had plans, as well. "I've gotta work on next week's schedule today and let my guys know where they need to be. Then, after that, I promised Davy I'd take him to a matinee, and Elaine's garage door needs a paint job." He hoped she wouldn't ask him to come back tonight. He did have a lot to do, and besides, it was definitely time to send out a message that he wasn't going to become a permanent fixture in her life.
Thankfully, she merely replied with, "Sounds like a busy day."
They finished eating, then Nick offered her the shower first, tired from a week of going nonstop. The next time he saw her, she was hovering over him in acute little sundress. "I have to run, but hang out as long as you want. You look sleepy," she added.
"Well, this hot blond chick I know has been costing me a lot of sleep lately."
She smiled, then leaned over to kiss him. "Bye, Nick," she said warmly.
He watched as she moved toward the door, her dress swinging around her shapely thighs. "I'll ... " What? He'd what? " ... talk to you soon," he finished.
After she'd gone, he lay in bed, willing himself to drift back to sleep, but his mind was too awake now, too alert. He listened to the garage door go up, then close again. He listened to the quiet of the house. He thought about how quiet the house hadn't been on several occasions last night, the sounds of their moans replacing the silence. Damn, they were good together in bed.
And maybe in other places, too, he had to reluctantly admit. He'd enjoyed their cruise last night-although he'd been glad to leave behind the subject of Phil, something he felt bad for having told her about. He'd always steered clear of getting involved in other people's problems, since he didn't want anyone butting into his business, either. And while he knew Lauren was only involving herself because she cared about Phil and Jeanne, he suspected she'd be disappointed in the end. He didn't know Phil well, but he'd never struck Nick as a remorseful kind of guy. And men who cheated were usually real good at justifying it somehow.
The parts that had come after that had been better. Revisiting those days before his mother died, then sharing a sunset with the little girl who'd grown into a gorgeous woman, had been sort of like coming full circle from his childhood. He'd told himself repeatedly that he'd better take control of this situation, that he'd better let her know where he stood, but it was difficult. There'd been moments when things were going so well, talk coming so easy, that he wished he could tell her he knew about her fantasies. That was a hundred kinds of impossible, of course, but he'd started yearning to share the fantasies with her, in more than just a solitary, distant way.
A thick rush of guilt poured through Nick as he glanced toward the bedroom door. He was alone, and her book of sexy fantasies still rested right down the hall in her office.
But he couldn't do it. He no longer wanted to hurt her, and a book like that ... well, he'd known from the first glimpse that it came from the deepest, most secret place in her soul and that he was trespassing in an unforgivable way.
And yet ... he longed for more of that secret side of her. He wanted to know more about the heated thoughts that made his princess tick. He longed for the power to bring more of those fantasies to life, to give her things no other man ever would or could, to watch her eyes light with the magic of living out her deepest desires. That quickly, the temptation pounded rhythmically through his blood. The lure of the forbidden wouldn't let him rest, wouldn't let him say no.
Sometimes it was almost easy to forget she didn't know he was reading her fantasies, easy to feel it was simply something they were sharing. In this moment, it was easy to tell himself that if she knew, she wouldn't stop him, she'd want him to read them, want him to know exactly how to please her best.
And maybe he was just like one of those men who cheated, because the longer he lay there thinking about it, the more ways he found to justify it ...
Until it became something he simply couldn't fight anymore. Until he finally pushed back the covers and got out of bed.
Chapter Thirteen
I lie naked on a bed, nestled in lilac velvet, a profusion of plump amethyst pillows cushioning my head. Diaphanous white fabric drapes the canopy above me, vines of ivy twisting randomly through. The room is filled with more lush colors and luxurious furnishings, but the bed is a world unto itself, a private haven. a secret garden.
A man enters through tall double doors edged in gilt.
Like me, he is nude-his chest is muscular; his shoulders broad, his skin tan. He walks like a man who fears nothing.
Sitting down next to me, he places a package in my hands, a gift. I tug at the purple velvet ribbon until it falls away. then lift the box's white lid. Inside. I find three silk scarves of deep violet, so smooth to the touch that I shiver. Glancing down, I see that my companion has grown fully erect watching me unwrap his offering.
I reach over and slowly take him in my grasp. Beneath my fingers. he is steel sheathed in silk. His eyes close in silent pleasure, and I want to give him more, so I loop one of the scarves around him and slide silk upon silk. up and down his length, until he groans.
"No more, .. he finally says, and I back farther onto the bed, sensing a shift in power I haven't the will to protest.
He straddles me, his penis arcing flat and hard across my stomach as he reaches in the box for another scarf, then gently lifts my right hand to the railing above my head. As he secures my wrist, my heart races with the awareness of my own captivity, and when both wrists are swathed in silk and bound to the bed, I know I've relinquished all control. Perhaps I should be afraid, yet my body pulses with anticipation, accompanied by a deep, resounding trust.
Rising to his knees, he reaches for the third scarf lying tangled between us. He bunches it in his fist and meets my gaze, making me wonder what he'll do.
Studying my breasts, he stretches the scarf taut between his hands, then skims the tight silk over the sensitive crests, stiffening them further as sensation ripples through me like aftershocks from an earthquake.
He watches my reaction carefully, and only when every quiver of pleasure has abated does he slowly drag the entire length of violet silk between my thighs, its folds teasing my aching flesh. I shudder beneath the silken caress, the aftershocks more powerful this time.
The silk scarf remains stretched between us like a threat and a promise, and I realize it s growing nearer when it covers my eyes, tightening to blackness as it s tied about my head. Completely in his control now, unable to see what will come next, a thin thread of fear twines around me-but I quickly break free of it, still trusting, anticipating, my body quaking with desire. And then it strikes all at once-my nipples tingle with fiery heat as he laves and sucks them, and his hand dips between my legs, stroking where I'm wet. I cry out, but haven't yet adjusted to the onslaught of pleasure when he thrusts himself deep inside me. His fingers still thrum between us as he drives into me, and his mouth never leaves my breasts. Every ion of my body is shaken with a pleasure so intense it rocks the earth beneath me, takes hold of my very being, leaving me nothing but complete surrender. Then we come together, both moaning, and the last, most brutal wave of aftershocks echoes through my blood, until all goes still.
And then his hands are there, . gently releasing my wrists before he pulls the scarf from my head. He tosses them all aside, and settles next to me on the velvet, taking me in his arms, leaving me captive to nothing but emotion.
Guilt warred with pleasure as Nick envisioned himself as the man in the scene. But after having gotten his fix, guilt edged pleasure from the battlefield. Damn it, he shouldn't be reading this. He'd known it from the start, and he cursed himself for his inability to stop. Now that temptation was past, all his rationalizations died, and he couldn't fathom how much it would hurt her if she knew. His stomach churned with shame.
Closing the book, he rose to return it to the shelf. As he eased it back into place, though, something prevented it from sliding in. He lifted the red volume and spied ... the wilted pink rose he'd given her, its petals pressed between folded layers of wax paper. His heart swelled. It must've fallen from the journal when he'd taken it down. She'd saved it. And she'd saved it here. As he picked it up, he tried to tell himself the lump welling in his throat was just more guilt, or worry because he had to put it back now, and what if she'd pressed it on some particular page like his mother used to do and would realize it'd been
moved? But deep inside, he knew he was just denying the more profound emotions he couldn't quite face. He sat back down, letting the book fall open in his lap, and he thumbed through until he found the fantasy where it made the most sense to keep the rose-the one about the rose. He placed the flattened flower at the book's center and closed it tight, and as he got up to return it once and for all, he tried not to feel so much. Tried not to ask himself how she could've saved it, after the way he'd left her that night. Tried not to ask himself what she possibly could've seen in him then that gave her hope, made her think he was human. Tried not to feel the strange outpouring of gratitude-and something deeper-melting through him. After getting hold of himself, he moved to Lauren's desk and was just about to flick off the lamp when he caught sight of his name on a piece of paper. Snatching it up, he found the name of his company, his address ... and some numbers that didn't quite make sense. It looked like an invoice-in fact, the jobs listed were the same as the invoices he'd filled out last week at O'Hanlon's but it wasn't his invoice, and the charges weren't exactly right.
Puzzling over it, he lowered himself back into the chair. He studied the paper closely, examining each piece of information. The invoice contained his logo, but the billing information was typed, whereas he sent them in handwritten. It was dated the previous week, as it should've been, and he decided perhaps someone at Ash had transcribed his invoice into a computer program for easier handling since he was so behind the times.
Yet it didn't add up, literally. Without reaching for Lauren's calculator, he guessed the charges submitted for each job were only a few percent higher than his actual fees, but still ... "What the hell?"
His first thought was to track Lauren down and ask her where the invoice had come from, explain that it wasn't his, that there was some sort of mistake. But the longer he sat there, the clearer things slowly became, partially from comments she'd made in passing.
The first time they'd met, she'd told him she knew he didn't work cheap because she'd seen his invoices. On the way to the marina last night, she'd mentioned the rising costs from the subcontractors that worked for Ash, but he'd just assumed she'd meant subs other than him. Suddenly he wondered how long the Horizon invoices had been coming in too high.
He traced the path his invoices took. He dropped them off to Sadie, and from there they went to Phil. He knew from Lauren that the invoices she paid came from Phil, that he or his secretary delivered them right to her door every few days. Phil was the common denominator, and a guy he already had reason not to trust.
Lowering his eyes to the phony invoice again, he thought about the trouble Phil must have gone to in order to make this work, but on the other hand, maybe it was simple. Nick didn't know computers, but he supposed once Phil had created the fake form with his logo and address, it was probably only a matter of changing a few numbers here and there. And maybe if he did it across the board-Lauren had said almost everyone's charges had increased, after all-the invoices didn't look so out of line that Lauren or anyone else would do more than maybe occasionally question one.
So Phil was stealing from Ash Builders. More specifically, from Henry Ash. "I'll be damned," he murmured in the quiet of Lauren's office. Again, his first impulse was to find her and explain what he'd found. It somehow made him feel victimized to see his name on a fake-and jacked-up--invoice. But as he let out the deep breath he'd been holding. he lowered the invoice back to the desk. Phil wasn't cheating him, after all-he got his check on time every week for the exact amount he'd invoiced. No, the more he thought about it, the more he understood that the only person this hurt was Lauren's father. And as he clicked the lamp off, then quietly walked back down the hall, Nick knew he'd finally stumbled upon an unexpected bit of justice for Henry Ash.
"Keep sanding, Davy," Nick said, watching his brother remove the peeling paint from the garage door beneath the hot noontime sun. "I'll go get the paint."
"Okay, Nick."
Nick headed in the front door and through the small house to the kitchen, where he'd left the can he'd brought in earlier to show Elaine the color. While he was there, he stopped to grab a couple of soft drinks from the fridge.
"Darn it, where's that paper?" Elaine muttered, coming up behind him.
"Huh?"
He heard her shuffling through the stack of newspapers they kept by the kitchen door. "Oh, nothing. Just can't find Thursday's paper-there was a coupon in it I wanted. How's the garage door coming?"
He turned from the refrigerator to see his sister wearing jeans and a red tank top that emphasized her shape more than usual, and he realized that until this moment. he wasn't even aware of his sister possessing a shape. "The scraping and sanding went slow, but we're about to start painting."
"Are you still taking Davy to the movies afterward?" He nodded. "We'll probably grab dinner, too." By the time the afternoon show let out. they'd both be ready to eat.
"Could you do me a favor then?" She leaned against the counter next to him. "Could you stop by and check on Dad?" His pointed look needed no words.
''I'm sorry, Nicky"-she shook her head-"but I've gone over there every day since the emergency room, plus taken him to the cardiology clinic and the doctor, and I'm just a little tired."
Nick let out a sigh of self-reproach. While he knew his dad now had a "condition" they needed to keep an eye on, he admittedly hadn't thought about the fact that Elaine had already started doing so, and he'd told her he'd help.
He supposed it wasn't much to ask, especially when she added, "You don't have to stay. Just make sure he's all right and remind him to take his medicine. It's on his kitchen table."
"Sure, Lainey," he said, popping the top on his drink, "I'll check on him."
She smiled. 'Thanks, Nick. I appreciate it."
The longer he looked at her, the more he noticed her hair seeming smoother, prettier than usual, and he could swear she wore a hint of lipstick, too. "You, uh, got a hot date. this afternoon or something?"
A blush the same color as her top climbed her cheeks, and she lowered her eyes. "No. Why?"
He regretted his assumption and tried to play it off easy. "Just thought you looked nice, that's all."
She lifted her gaze to his. ''Thanks. I ... guess I don't really take care of myself much anymore. You just happened to catch me on one of my better days."
Nick didn't know what to say. He doubted he and Elaine had discussed anything as trivial as their looks since they were teenagers. Part of him wanted to tell her she should take better care of herself, because she did look good today, but on the other hand, he feared maybe he'd said too much already, so decided he'd be smarter to shut up.
"Besides," she finally added, "I don't exactly meet a lot of men."
He'd never thought much about that, other than his fleeting notion the other day when Lauren had asked if Elaine was married. "I guess it's hard with Davy."
She bit her lip and gave a slight nod, but he could read the guilt in her eyes. She'd spent her whole adult life caring for their brother, and she wasn't sure it was right to want something more.
"Listen, Lainey, if you ever want to go out, even just with some girlfriends or something, Davy could stay with me. I mean, if you ... wanted some privacy."
Her blush returned. ''Thanks, Nick. But I doubt it." He gathered the paint and soda, balancing the cans atop one another, before heading toward the front door. As he maneuvered his way back out into the stifling heat, he remembered Elaine when she had brighter eyes and a quicker smile.
When she'd been a senior in high school, she'd pulled him into her room. shut the door, and showed him a letter from the University of Miami awarding her a partial scholarship. They should've been happy, but after he'd read it, they'd both just looked at each other. "I only applied because Mr. Hayes insisted," she'd explained, referring to the guidance counselor as if apologizing. "I never really thought they'd offer me money."
"No, Lainey, that's great," he'd said. "Really great."
But he guessed his worries had come through in his voice and now he wished he'd masked them better. He'd already left school in order to get a job after the money from the Double A deal had run out. So he wasn't sure how he would have managed-how he'd have painted enough to support them all while taking care of their dad and Davy at the same time-but he could've found a way.