Authors: Stella Cameron
She laughed again. "You've made it pretty clear you wanted a little fun. I'm just obliging."
"Maryan wouldn't like—"
"Maryan won't know. And you started it." She knew how to use her hands. He hardened despite himself. "That's the way, lover. Sex is good for us. And don't tell me you prefer the hoops that drunken cow puts you through."
Ron knew danger when it stared him in the eye. "Maryan's okay."
"Sure she's okay." With deft fingers, the tall model unbuckled his belt, unhooked and unzipped his olive green slacks, and sent them around his ankles. "Oh, my. Black next to a man's skin always turns me on."
He stopped himself from saying she didn't need turning on anymore than she already was.
She dispensed with the "black next to his skin" as only a
woman with a great deal of practice could. "Will you look at that?" Smiling, she draped the front of his shirt to frame his prick.
"Like what you see?" he asked, barely parting his lips.
"Well, I think this treatment suits it better than red ribbons." Calmly, she took off her briefs and sat on the edge of the desk with her legs spread. "Let's see how it works. Make it fast. I've got a lot of people waiting to see me out there."
Ron balled his hands into fists.
"Want to hit me?" Her smile turned down. "Come on. Try."
She was dangerous. Only absolute confidence would allow her to do this. He deliberately relaxed and flexed his fingers. "I'm not a fool," he told her. "Only a fool would pass up what you're offering." He'd like to puke.
"Lick me first."
His gorge rose.
She pointed to the floor. "Get down and lick me, Ron. You'll like it."
He sank to his knees and shut his eyes. If he concentrated hard, maybe he could make himself believe it was other skin he was tasting, other sex he was smelling.
In seconds her hips pumped. She climaxed in absolute silence and Ron dropped his head forward. At least she'd have to be more careful around him now.
"Okay," she said. "Let's finish this."
He stared up at her, at her still perfectly arranged hair and untouched makeup, at her perfectly toned nakedness, her evenly honey-colored skin—all the way to the ends of her peaked breasts. Her legs remained splayed and she beckoned him.
Resigned, Ron got to his feet. A chance for reprieve occurred to him. "Damn! I don't have anything, lovely lady. You caught me by surprise."
She leaned backward and pulled open a drawer. "No one ever catches me by surprise."
He gave up trying to stop her from slipping the condom on him herself. Then he gave up trying to resist her pushing him
inside her. Placing his hands on her breasts, she dropped her back to the desk and fastened her ankles behind his back. She enfolded him in muscles that worked like an iron milking machine, and sucked at him hard and fast. A minute at the most and she came. He was a second behind her, panting, grasping the desk for support.
"Thanks." Pushing him away, she sprang to her feet. "Now we can talk."
Ron's legs quivered. With trembling hands he began straightening his clothes.
"I know what you are."
He stopped in the act of stooping for his slacks. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what I said. I know what you are. Maryan doesn't, does she?"
He stood up and stared at her.
"I didn't think so. You were right about one thing. I can't afford to fail here. I'll admit I've had a few bad days, but I'm feeling much better now."
Ron retrieved his pants. "Glad to have been of service."
"Even if you hated it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"If you say so. But I can prove it, Ronny boy."
A spasm hit his gut. "You're crazy."
"The bathroom's over there." She indicated a closed door on the side of the room opposite the mirrors. "You'd better take care of the evidence or it'll be all over your pants."
He felt himself redden. "What are you trying to pull here?"
"We've got trouble. You, Maryan, and I. Maryan doesn't know just how much trouble yet, and when she finds out she's going to be a bitch to deal with. She'll be less of a bitch if you persuade her she needs my help. That she needs to take me into her confidence."
"Against Sebastian?" He snorted. "Forget it."
"Not against Sebastian. To protect Sebastian from himself— if that's what needs to be done."
"Maryan likes to be the boss."
"She can think she's the boss, as long as I'm the boss."
Sweat stuck his shirt to his back. "What do you want? What are you trying to prove here?"
"That I can control you—and Maryan. Find a way to make her understand she needs me."
"You're dreaming."
"And you," she said, surveying her nude body in the mirrors, "are a fool. Without me to help you, Maryan's going to squeeze you dry till she finds a way to get what she really wants. Then she'll send you back where you came from."
"No—"
"Yes. You and I can be the real team here. The key is to make sure nothing changes for Sebastian. With him in place and unscathed, I'm all right, and you'll be all right. Maryan's the one who can ruin everything for us."
He needed something. A hit. He couldn't think straight anymore. "Maryan wants the best for Sebastian, too. I don't get—"
"You will. Remember two things. If you cross me, I'll tell Maryan what happened here this morning, and she isn't going to believe I raped you, is she?"
Ron couldn't form any words.
"Secondly. Maryan doesn't just want what's best for Sebastian. Maryan wants Sebastian. Period."
Eleven
"Bliss! Hello, Bliss!"
Wiping rain from her face, Bliss removed her useless glasses and strained to make out the figure that approached across grass and rocky earth turned to mud by a late afternoon downpour.
The newcomer wasn't alone. Spike ambled up to Bliss and sniffed her sodden jeans.
"Fabiola said I'd find you down here." Prue O'Leary, president of Women of Today and Bliss's old friend, plodded to stand beside Bliss on the bluff that fell to the lake. "Something about you checking a fence?"
Bliss looked at her gloved hands. "One of the benefits of running an operation on a shoestring. You do a lot of your own maintenance."
Prue pulled the hood of her dark green parka farther over her serious face. "If you're on a shoestring it's because that's the way you want it."
Perhaps, Bliss decided, it was time to become less open with those she'd chosen to trust. She found she didn't like being criticized for having decided to make Hole Point a success without appealing to her family for funds.
"What fence?" Prue peered behind Bliss. "You thinking of fencing the bluff?"
Bliss pointed to an area off to her right where a circle of barbed wire coiled. "Not the bluff. And it's not really a fence.
Just the barricade around the hole. Liberty had another of her fits yesterday. Threatened to jump down there."
"Why?" Prue tramped toward the treacherously spiked wire.
"The usual. Vic doesn't love her as a woman, and so on."
"Kick 'em out," Prue said matter-of-factly while she stood on tiptoe to try for an angle on the opening into the ground. "Revamp the place. I've told you this could be a gold mine as a convention center."
"And I've told you I'm not interested in a gold mine, or a convention center."
Prue set her heels on the ground again and turned her round features up to Bliss. "How many tenants have you got?"
"Three extra cabins are let out for the summer."
"That's not what I asked."
As always, Prue knew how to get at Bliss. "Vic and Liberty are year-rounders. That's two more cabins." She couldn't lie successfully.
"I thought they shared."
"In theory they don't. Anne Snow's still with us. She's away at the moment. Teaching a summer course in native Indian pottery in Arizona. Barbara McMann will be back from Europe in September."
"Paid up before they left, did they?"
Bliss gave Prue a hard look. "You didn't come to talk about rent." Spike wound her muddy body around her legs and grinned. Bliss pushed her away and ran her eyes over the widely spaced log cabins with their surrounding hedges of unruly yews. At the northernmost reaches of the property stood the small bungalow Polly and Bobby shared with Fabiola.
"Shit's hit the fan," Prue announced succinctly.
Asking the nature of the shit and the identity of the fan wouldn't be productive. Bliss bent her head into the driving rain and started back uphill.
Prue fell in, panting a little, running to keep up with Bliss's much longer legs. "Got a response from your father."
Bliss stopped and waited for Prue to face her again.
"Don't look so shocked," Prue said. "I know you don't like the senator, but he is on our side in this one."
"My father and I don't get along. That has nothing to do with anything as far and you and I are concerned, Prue."
"Is it true you've seen Plato?"
Rainwater finally found its way through the seams of Bliss's army surplus jacket, and ran between her shoulder blades. "Did my father say I had?"
"He hinted as much. Something about how I'd better make sure our chairperson was really on board before we tried to move forward against Sebastian Plato."
Vic's motorcycle roared over the rise and shot toward his cabin. He sighted Bliss and Prue and waved. Bliss waved back.
"I don't know how you stand that man," Prue said.
Prue wouldn't have understood a positive feeling about any man. "He's okay," Bliss said. "He's always there if I need him. I regard him as a friend."
"You always had some strange notions. Bliss, you were seen at Lennox Rood's showing."
"Really. By whom?"
"Oh, I can't remember who said it."
"I don't believe you, Prue." Bliss dried her glasses on a dripping handkerchief and put them on. At least she got a smeary view of Prue's expression. Guarded. "We've been friends a long time. I thought we'd agreed to remain friends even though our interests have gone in different directions."
"We did agree to that."
"Then why are you keeping tabs on me?"
"I'm not. It's just that this is a big issue and—"
"And you want to use me to get what you want."
"Bliss—"
"You contacted my father on the Raptor Vision issue. That wasn't something we discussed."
Prue shrugged. "He's a powerful man and he shares our views on this one."
"But I didn't agree to getting involved with my father on anything political—from his point of view, or yours."
"Sorry. I assumed you'd understand."
"You also told a reporter I'd agreed to chair a committee I didn't even know existed."
"I knew you'd do it. You're the obvious candidate."
Bliss's temper wore thin. "I'm not interested. And please don't discuss me with my father or gather information on my activities."
"I thought Lennox Rood was out of your good graces."
"He's another old friend. He lived here."
"Exactly." Prue's nostrils flared. "And he got the idea that you were in love with him and tried to use that."
"All over," Bliss reminded her. "He asked me to come to his showing and I went because I wanted to. End of subject."
"Plato—"
"Sebastian Plato didn't have anything to do with what happened to that girl in New York."
"She went there to try to be taken on by his agency," Prue argued hotly.
"But he didn't kill her. Neither did anyone employed by him kill her."
"That kind of outfit is demeaning to women."
Bliss felt weary. "They aren't running a talent pageant. Both women and men model. They always will."
"We don't need Raptor Vision here. Bellevue's been very successful in driving out unsuitable influences and we're not standing still for this one."
This was what Bliss had eventually left behind when she'd parted company with her former career. "Your opinion isn't the only opinion worth considering," she said. "And in this case, it's wrong. You know how I feel about exploitation—I would never stand by and watch it if I could do something to help. But this time you're way off base."
"You and Sebastian were together at Bellevue Square."
"Damn it, Prue. Who told you this?"
"I'm not going to make you mad at someone who was just making a passing remark."
"A passing remark. Oh, come on." She shoved her hands in her pockets and continued uphill. "Let it go. I don't have time for any of this."
"Morris said Kitten was over yesterday morning."
"Oh, this is the end." Bliss spun around. "I'm so pleased you're on chatting terms with Morris. I can hardly say two words to him without him losing his temper, but you compare notes on my activities."
"Stop it," Prue said, pressing her lips together. "I'm worried about you. You're too kind for your own good. That man used you years ago and—"
"You stop. Right now. I thought I could trust you with things I've never confided to anyone. I made a terrible mistake. You already made suggestions the press could use. And you told Fab and Polly about Sebastian when we were in school. How could you, Prue?"
Her friend had the grace to redden. "I got carried away. I shouldn't have. But neither should you have let him come walking back in here the way you have."
They neared the lodge and Spike loped ahead and around to the back of the building. Bliss's lungs burned. She felt trapped— and angry.
"You slept with him didn't you."
"Prue!" So furious, she couldn't think, Bliss tore off her useless glasses and stuffed them in a pocket of the olive green camouflage jacket.
"I see I've struck a nerve." Smugness didn't make Prue more likeable this afternoon.
"I think you should leave," Bliss told her.
"You did sleep with him. My God. You haven't seen him since you were just out of high school. He'd raped a girl and run away— just about leaving you at the altar. And the minute he shows up, you hop into bed with him. He must be quite something."
"He is," Bliss said through gritted teeth. "Yes, Sebastian is really something."
"Bliss, you know better—"