Thigh High (25 page)

She glanced to the right of Carrie's shoulder, then winked.

Perdition was still a house of pleasure, she thought. Sexual heat spiked from her lowest belly to her heart and she broke out into a light sweat.

C
arrie's nerves screeched as she shifted her eyes enough to catch sight of a shadow beside her. It blinked out. Gone, definitely gone, along with the chill it had radiated. She ran her palm along the back of her upper arm. “What was that?”

“Excuse me?” Faye looked wide-eyed with surprise. Phony as hell.

“Someone was right there, next to me. I know it.” She peered around the wing of the chair trying to figure out what she'd seen. “And so do you.”

“I know nothing of the sort.” Faye sipped her coffee calmly.

“Perdition House has secrets, and I aim to dig them out and expose them.”

“Even if you find what you think you're looking for, no one will believe you. I fear someone's put strange thoughts in your head.”

“I've been taking notes, Faye. This house is not as simple as it appears.” But it was also so much more complex than anything she'd ever experienced. No mere article in a local newspaper could do this place justice. The enormity of her foolish declaration swamped her.

Her hostess looked unperturbed by the threat of exposure, confirming Carrie's defeat. In fact, Faye looked downright relaxed. “Speaking of notes, if you'd like to check your e-mail while you're here, please feel free to use my office. You're more than welcome to plug into my Internet connection.”

If the woman had something to hide, she'd be kicking Carrie to the curb by now. “Thank you, I will,” Carrie responded. Either that or she knew how futile it would be for Carrie to pursue the matter further.

“We haven't gone wireless at Perdition because we see the place as an oasis away from worldly pressures. Our guests badly need downtime, and we've found complete avoidance is the best way to get that kind of rest.”

Somehow control of the conversation had been taken from her and she had no way to get it back because the men returned. Matt looked into her gaze and smiled warmly.

Deep affection sparked between them and she let go of her notion to interrogate Faye further. It was clear the woman was too smart to release any information by mistake.

Matt held out his hand to her and she responded with sexual need. “Let's enjoy the grounds, before the rain comes.”

She checked the sky. Sure enough, clouds hung low over the horizon, threatening rain for the afternoon. She warmed at the idea of getting cozy with Matt under the thick down duvet in their room. She loved listening to rain on the windows while she was snuggled under cover.

And snuggling with Matt seemed to dominate her thoughts. He held her gaze, mentally wrapping his wide heavy arms around her, and she soaked up the heat.

She put her hand in his and rose, without so much as a nod in farewell to the other couple.

Matt. This weekend was all about Matt. The questions she'd thought were so important to ask Faye drifted away like smoke on the wind.

They held hands, hers warm and snug in his larger one, and crossed the lawn to the cliffs overlooking Shilshole Bay. “Liam told me there used to be a set of stairs around here somewhere, but they got shaky and some decades ago they collapsed. He told me he heard a great story about one of the women who lived here racing down the stairs stark naked.”

“Hope it was midsummer.” She shivered as a cold gust of wind clawed her back. In spite of the fleece and jeans she wore, the bite of cold went through to her bones. She leaned into Matt's warmth. His arm came up around her shoulders as they edged closer to the cliff. “I can't imagine running headlong down this vertical drop. I'd get dizzy.”

The push of cold behind her made her turn her head sharply, and for a split second she caught sight of bare flesh and long, streaming hair as another gust went through her. The image disappeared down the cliff.

A second later, Matt lurched and steadied again.

A darker shadow emerged through Matt's chest and headed down the cliff too.

As if…

As if…

No, it was just the shadow of the incoming clouds. Had to be.

“Did you feel that rush of cold? We should head back. It's too windy out here. I don't want you too close to the edge if the rain comes in hard. Could get slippery.” He stepped back and urged her away.

“Thanks. Maybe we should head for the gazebo to see it while we still can.” The clouds gathered, grays deepening to a threat.

“Did you see shadows a moment ago?” he asked.

“I thought I did, but then, I've seen a lot of strange shadows since I came in through the gates.”

“Me too.”

They turned and headed for the gazebo, still dappled with sunny light. The eight-sided structure had white pickets with a green roof. Faye obviously spent a lot of time in it because the benches were covered with happy yellow gingham seat cushions and pillows in contrasting bold colors. The effect made Carrie think of continual summertime.

As they got closer, she heard a tinny music play. “Can you see speakers anywhere?”

“No, but then, speakers can be minuscule these days. They may be in the trees that ring the lawns.”

“I wonder how deep that ring of trees is.”

“Let's go find out. But I believe there's at least an acre between the lawns and the fence line.”

They bypassed the gazebo and turned left toward the trees. “Lions and tigers and bears…” chanted Carrie.

Matt laughed, stopped walking and turned toward Perdition House. “Heaven only knows what we'll see in these woods, Carrie. You feel adventurous?”

“With you? Yes.” The slash of his grin was all the reassurance she needed.

They stepped into the cool shade of the trees and the world fell silent. No birds sang, no sounds of the surf, even the tinny waltz music disappeared.

“Guess we'll never find where that music's coming from.”

“It doesn't matter where the speakers are,” said Matt, and she agreed. Right now, this minute, all she wanted to hear was her own breathing.

And Matt's, in her ear, trailing down her neck, past her chest, her navel and into the melting spot between her legs.

Need raced and ping-ponged around and through her. His eyes heated and his cock rose against her hip. “Do you feel that? This heat? Different from the cold down by the cliff edge.”

She nodded, unsure if her voice would work.

She checked over her shoulder and saw another couple dancing in the gazebo. “Look, do you see them too?”

“Yes,” he responded without looking. He was focused on running his palm up and down her arm. She pulled away from him.

“No, look. Really look at them. Do you recognize them from last night?”

The woman was tall, slender, with burnished copper hair, and the man wore a navy peacoat with a captain's hat. They danced beautifully, perfectly in tune and in step with each other.

“No, he's not one of the men.”

And she knew.

Accepted and understood.

“The biggest secret of Perdition House is the ghosts.” She shuddered, surprised she wasn't more fearful.

He nodded. “You okay with that?”

“Say good-bye to my hard-hitting news career. It's back to fluff and the family pages for me.” No other paper in the country would hire her even if she did manage to get her story printed.

“You're a journalist?”

“Obviously not a very good one.” She looked up at him. “I got involved in my story. In fact, I'm so involved I can't remain objective enough to report what I've learned about these sex-for-sale phoney charity auctions.” She nearly said the weekend was a waste, but she knew better. It might not make her career, but her love life had spiked into the stratosphere.

“A journalist,” he repeated. “Not a fact checker?”

“Mad at me?”

He shook his head. “I'm not mad. In fact I'm relieved. I haven't exactly been honest either.”

“What do you mean?” Her belly flopped. If he said he was a gigolo she'd eat her hat. She really really really didn't want Matt Crewe to be a pro. She held her breath and braced for the ugly truth.

“I'm writing a book on sex clubs. Not an expose like your article. But a nonfiction book on why sex clubs exist in today's sexually free society. No matter how free we say we are, sexuality is still frowned upon in a lot of circles. And any sexuality that veers from the straight and narrow definition of one man and one woman is generally kept private.”

“Like in clubs.”

“Exactly. Now, are you disappointed I wasn't honest with you?”

She rolled her eyes. “I'm no hypocrite.” She sighed. “From a career standpoint the time here was wasted, but I'll just have to go back to searching for my big story. I'll find one someday.”

“Will you still report on the auctions and expose Faye's sideline?”

“I have to think about it. Present company and myself excepted, I don't like people who cheat and lie. Never have. It's one of the reasons I want to move into investigative journalism.”

“You lied to me.” But his eyebrows rose and lips twitched in humor as he said it.

She pursed her lips. “You lied first. You pretended to be a pro, you took me behind those draperies and made sure I got a good taste of you so I'd bid on you.”

He flushed the most gorgeous manly shade of red. “What would you say if I told you I think the spirits made me do it?”

“You mean they messed with your head too?” She remembered all too vividly the feel of heavy velvet hands in the draperies, the writhing people on the fireplace mantel. “The whole building is a sexual portal for what? For whom?”

“The spirits of dead hookers? Their johns?” He echoed her own conclusion.

She looked through the trees to the dancing couple in the gazebo. Their expressions shone with love, their body language took them to an exquisite place of yearning and connectedness she could only hope to experience. “These are more than hookers and johns, Matt. Look at their expressions.”

“I see.”

The spirits of Perdition were lovers, friends, confidants and mates. Eternal mates. Love glowed around the dancing couple, sparkled as they twirled in each other's arms.

The vision of the pair winked out suddenly, and the gazebo was empty and still. “Matt, we're being given a message.”

He nodded. “You're right. But I never thought, never imagined my research would find me wanting so much. Needing this much.” He turned her to face him and his eyes glowed with deep affection and caring.

She wanted him to ravish her, to tear off her clothes and drill his cock into her on the leaf litter at their feet, but he didn't.

Instead, he stole her heart. And gave her his.

Cupping her head in his palms, he blessed her forehead with a kiss, moved his lips lovingly across her brows, her nose, lips and chin. When he tilted his head back to see her, he smoothed her cheeks with his thumbs.

She melted into a puddle as he finally tipped his mouth to hers in a kiss that rattled its way into her chest.

“What's happening to us?” she breathed.

“I don't know, but I like it.”

A bird twittered overhead and Carrie caught a flash of color in the leaves. A finch. Pretty and yellow, the bird tilted its head this way and that, then took off.

“That's the first bird I've seen here,” she said, and followed the erratic flight as the finch flew deeper into the trees. A few yards in, she spied the bird on another tree branch in a tiny clearing. Well out of view of the lawns stood a huge maple tree. The trunk was wide, the branches sturdy, the leaves big as the span of two hands. The finch's yellow head blended into the autumn color of the leaves.

Hanging from one of the sturdiest branches was a swing. The seat was covered in delicate silk and rounded.

Matt lifted the seat to inspect it. “This isn't wood, it's like a padded bottom, rounded to be comfortable.” He lifted the seat to face height and peered through a hole at her. He waggled his eyebrows at her through the hole. “You don't suppose?”

“This was used for sex?” she breathed, hopeful that they'd discovered the exact purpose. But she was already melting into her panties at the idea of sex in the woods.

Matt looked to the sky. Brilliant sunshine beamed down on him. The clearing warmed and went softly silent as the moment stretched between them.

“I'll never get another chance like this again,” she said, and stripped off her jeans.

He laughed, delighted with her readiness, and stepped out of his jeans too. He was cocked and loaded and Carrie salivated at the sight of all that beautiful jutting flesh. All for her.

For all time.
The thought wasn't hers, she was sure of it, but she wished it was.