Silver Linings

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “I'll pour you a drink now,” Hugh said magnanimously when they reached the privacy of Mattie's room. “Sit down.”

  Sitting down meant sitting on the bed. There were no chairs in the room. Mattie obediently kicked off her red heels, leaned her delightfully bare back against the old wicker headboard, and stretched her legs out in front of her. “When will you tell Aunt Charlotte you won't be accepting any more free-lance jobs for Vailcourt?”

  “The way things are going, I'll be in a position to do that in another six months or a year,” Hugh said as he poured a shot of rum into two glasses. “It's going to be good out here, Mattie. You'll see. Abbott Charters is going to work. A year from now I'm going to start work on a house. I've already picked out a chunk of property that overlooks the prettiest little cove you've ever seen.”

  Footsteps sounded outside in the hall. They went past the door and stopped at the next room. Evangeline Dangerfield's door opened. There was a murmur of voices and then silence. Hugh sat down beside Mattie on the bed and went on talking about his dream house. Mattie sipped at her rum.

  A short time later the unmistakable squeak of bedsprings could be heard through the thin walls. Hugh ignored the sound as he described the veranda he was going to build around his spectacular dream house. Mattie took another sip of rum.

  A man's guttural shout of sexual release rumbled through the walls. Mattie bit her lip as her eyes met Hugh's and then slid away. She giggled.

  Hugh pretended to ignore the second set of footsteps in the hall while he explained that his beautiful dream house would be open to the island breezes on three sides.

  When the third set of footsteps went past the door on the way to Evangeline's room, Mattie wriggled a little on the bed. “Hard way to make a living,” she observed, yawning.

  “Yeah.” Hugh was finally beginning to have a problem concentrating on what he was talking about. The rhythmic squeak of bedsprings and the noisy sounds of masculine climax kept interfering with his train of thought. Mattie's yawn had done interesting things to the top of the little red dress.

  “I guess I'd better stick to running an art gallery,” she said, easing herself down onto the pillows. She put her glass on the table beside the bed. “I don't think I'd have the energy for Evangeline's kind of work. Do you know. Hugh, I am absolutely exhausted all of a sudden.”

  “You've been through a lot today,” he started to say sympathetically. Then he realized her eyes were closing. “Hey, Mattie?”

  “Good night, Hugh. Be sure and turn off the light and lock the door when you leave.” With a soft little murmur, she went to sleep.

  Hugh sat watching her for a long time while he finished his drink. He hadn't gotten around to telling her about the bedroom in his dream home, he realized. It was going to be a big room with a big bed and a view of the sea. He was sure she was going to like it.

  The bedsprings next door began to squeak again.

  Hugh put down his glass, stood up, and slowly undressed down to his briefs. Then he pulled down the bedspread and eased Mattie under the sheet. He thought about undressing her but finally decided the red slip of a dress was a perfect nightie.

  He went over to his shopping bag and found his revolver. Then he turned out the light and slid under the sheet beside Mattie. He put the revolver under the pillow.

  Hugh folded his arms behind his head and listened to the endless parade of footsteps in the hall. He began to wonder if he was going to stay in this painfully aroused condition all night long.

  When one particular set of footsteps stopped outside Mattie's door instead of going on to Evangeline Dangerfield's room, Hugh was still awake.

  He sighed and quietly reached under the pillow for the gun.

  CHAPTER

  Six

  Hugh felt Mattie move beside him as the door opened. She turned in her sleep, her leg sliding along his, her hand settling on his bare chest. He could feel his body's instantaneous response all the way down to his toes. The lady always did have lousy timing. One of these days he hoped she would get it right.

  He forced himself to keep his eyes on the widening crack of light in the doorway. First things first.

  A familiar figure was revealed briefly in the weak light that entered the room from the hall. The figure crept stealthily into the room, easing the door shut behind him.

  Hugh pulled the hammer back on the revolver. The soft, deadly click was as loud as a cannon in the small room. The figure near the door froze, obviously recognizing that particular sound at once. A man of the world.

  Mattie's hand shifted slightly on Hugh's chest at that moment, her fingertip grazing his flat nipple. Hugh stifled a groan and watched his quarry.

  “I knew I was going to regret taking you off Purgatory, Rosey.” Hugh kept his voice to the level of the softest of whispers, but he knew Rosey heard him.

  “What the hell…?” Rosey's muttered exclamation was nearly as soft as Hugh's words had been.

  Mattie murmured in her sleep and her fingers began to slip gently through Hugh's chest hair to his belly, which went taut at the caress. He held himself as still as Rosey.

  “Wake her up and I'll be real pissed, Rosey.”

  “I thought you was sleepin' down the hall. Desk clerk said so.” Rosey sounded peevish, but he obediently kept his voice low.

  “You thought wrong.”

  Mattie's foot came into contact with Hugh's leg. He could feel her toes nibbling at him like tiny little fish. The delicate, unconscious caress sent a ripple of electricity through him.

  “Look, no hard feelings or anything, okay? It was all a mistake, see.” Rosey started to edge backward to the door.

  “A big mistake. What were you after?”

  “Just a few bucks. I know she's got a wad in that fancy purse of hers. You can always tell by the purse and the shoes, y'know? Real leather. High-quality stuff.”

  Hugh relaxed slightly, aware of the ring of truth in Rosey's whining voice. His initial annoyance had been generated by the certainty that Rosey must have seen Mattie in the red sarong earlier this evening and had come to her room with something more reprehensible in mind than simple motel theft. “You're lucky I'm feeling in a good mood tonight, Rosey. I'm not going to blow your head off. At least not right at the moment.”

  “You wouldn't do it anyway,” Rosey declared with rash insight. “She wouldn't like it. Just like she didn't approve of you threatenin' to cut me and Gibbs' throats on Purgatory. Like she wouldn't let you leave us behind.”

  “She might not approve, but she couldn't stop me. Get me mad enough, Rosey, and I won't give a damn what she thinks. Keep that in mind and we'll get along just fine.”

  Mattie sighed softly and her hand moved lower, her fingers sliding inside the opening of Hugh's briefs and tangling lightly in the thick, curling hair there. A distinct bulge appeared in the sheet that covered his thighs. Hugh stifled another groan and through monumental willpower managed to keep most of his attention on Rosey.

  The wiry little man had sidled back to the door and was starting to open it.

  “Hold it,” Hugh ordered quietly just as Mattie's thumb gently trailed across the base of his heavy erection. He realized his manhood had come free of the briefs. His muscles were all violently taut, and the hand that held the gun trembled faintly.

  With great care, Hugh uncocked the revolver. No sense accidentally spraying Rosey's few brains against the wall in a moment of uncontrollable passion. “I want to talk to you for a second, Rosey.”

  “Look, I told you, it was all a mistake. I wasn't gonna hurt her. Just needed a few bucks. Me and Gibbs didn't have much with us when you stole our boat, y'know. We're kinda short.”

  “Something tells me it wasn't the first time you've had to leave town in a hurry. Rosey, before you go, I want to make certain we have an understanding. First, come anywhere near Miss Sharpe again and I'll be very, very annoyed. Clear?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Clear. Now, don't get up or nothin'. I'll see myself out.” />
  “One more thing.”

  “Sheesh. Don't you ever stop givin' orders?”

  “Not until I get what I want.”

  Rosey hovered near the door. “What the hell do you want?”

  “A name. A friend of mine died on Purgatory.”

  “Yeah? Who?” Rosey sounded vaguely interested now.

  “Paul Cormier.”

  There was a small pause. “I knew Cormier. He was okay, him and his white shoes and all. Made me a couple of loans when I needed 'em bad to pay off some folks. Bought the farm, huh? I'm sorry to hear that.”

  “Somebody shot him and left him to die. If you ever hear a name, Rosey, I want it. I want it very badly.”

  “I don't know who killed him,” Rosey said hastily.

  “There's money in it, Rosey. A lot of money. Come up with a name and the money's all yours. Contact me or a guy named Silk Taggert over on St. Gabe. Got that?”

  “Yeah, sure. I got it. I'm leavin' now, if that's okay with you. Got things to do, people to see, places to go. Say good-bye to the little lady for me.”

  “I'll do that.” Hugh sucked in another deep breath as Mattie's fingers slipped between his thighs. “And lock the door behind you.”

  “Anything you say.” The wedge of pale light from the hall widened briefly once more as Rosey hurried out of the room, and then there was darkness again. Hugh waited until he heard the lock click.

  Mattie's leg slid over his thigh and she stirred gently, nestling closer.

  Hugh shoved the revolver under the bed where it would be within easy reach. Then he reached beneath the sheet and found Mattie's hand. It was resting alongside his upthrust shaft, her fingertips just touching the full globes underneath.

  “Oh, Christ.”

  He thought he would lose it all right then and there.

  Holding his breath, Hugh pushed his briefs down over his hips and fumbled free of them. Every inch of the way he feared he would wake Mattie and bring his own dream to an abrupt end. But she just wiggled a bit and snuggled closer.

  When he had stripped off the underwear, Hugh carefully folded Mattie's fingers around himself. He moved experimentally, lifting his hips slightly. Her hand tightened briefly.

  “Damn.” Hugh squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled deeply.

  For a moment or two Hugh seriously considered torturing himself to death in that position until morning. But he did not think he had the stamina for it. He was already too close to exploding.

  Mattie stirred again and her lips brushed against his shoulder. He looked down and in the pale light from the window he saw that one soft, sweetly rounded breast had escaped the bodice of the red dress.

  Fascinated, Hugh touched Mattie's nipple with his thumb and felt it grow as hard as a berry. The soft fingers clinging delicately to his manhood tightened again for an excruciating instant.

  Hugh caught hold of the top of the red sarong and eased it down so that Mattie's other breast came free. For a long moment he simply lay there feasting on the beautiful sight spread out in front of him.

  Then, deciding to push his luck, he moved one hand down to her thigh and slid his palm up under the short red skirt of the sarong.

  Mattie released him and rolled onto her back, her eyes still closed. Her legs shifted restlessly.

  Hugh edged his fingers higher under the red satin. The warmth and softness of the inside of her thigh almost sent him over the edge. When her legs parted slightly of their own accord, he stifled another muffled groan.

  His questing fingers found the scrap of cotton that shielded the moist, feminine flower he sought. For a moment or two he contented himself with stroking her through the fabric, but when he felt the cotton grow damp he knew he was not going to be able to stop there.

  Mattie moved again, arching her hips slightly against his touch. She mumbled something in her sleep, something that sounded like an impatient demand. Hugh slid his fingers inside the leg opening of the cotton panties.

  Mattie inhaled quickly and her lashes fluttered. Through sensually narrowed lids, her eyes met his in the shadows. Hugh did not dare move. He realized he was holding his breath.

  Then, without a word, she reached up for him, twining her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her. Her eyes closed again.

  She wanted him. Hugh thought he would go out of his mind then. He groped roughly at the satin skirt, shoving it quickly up over Mattie's hips to her small waist. Then he yanked the cotton panties downward.

  She was ready for him, moist and welcoming. Hugh came down on top of her, probing hungrily. He buried his lips against her warm throat and simultaneously thrust deeply.

  Mattie cried out, her whole body stiffening.

  “Oh, babe. Oh, babe. Mattie.” Hugh's voice was hoarse with his desire. She was tight and hot and wet, just as he had remembered. Months of shattering dreams had finally crystallized into a glittering reality. She wanted him. He pounded into her, a year's pent-up need fueling his passion.

  He heard the soft little gasps, felt her arching herself beneath him, and he reached down to find the little nub hidden in the thick, soft curls at the apex of her thighs. When he touched it, she went off like a rocket. She convulsed beneath him. She went wild. She clawed at his back. She clung to him as if he were the only man left on earth.

  He hastily covered her mouth, drinking in the gentle, feminine sounds of release. And then he was going up in flames himself, his entire body uncoiling like a powerfully compressed spring that had been under tension far too long. The sensations ripped through him, seeming to last forever.

  When it was over at last, Hugh was covered in sweat as if he had just completed a long-distance run. He raised his head to look down at the woman in his arms and realized she had gone back to sleep.

  Hugh exhaled heavily. He really did not feel like talking now anyway. He felt too good, too replete, too content. Why mess up the perfection of the moment with a lot of idle chitchat? Slowly, reluctantly, he eased himself out of Mattie's clinging warmth. Then he rolled onto his back and gathered her against him.

  “Babe, we're going to be damn good together,” he whispered. “Just like you told me a year ago. Damn good.” For a long time he lay looking up at the ceiling of the shabby little room and listened to the sounds of footsteps in the hall.

  It occurred to him that this waterfront fleabag of an inn was probably not at all the sort of place Mattie usually chose to stay in when she traveled.

  Mattie's first thought when she awoke the next morning was that the mattress must have been even lumpier than it had looked yesterday. She felt stiff for some reason.

  And a little sticky between her thighs.

  And uncomfortable. The red sarong was bunched awkwardly around her waist.

  Then she opened her eyes and the all-too-vivid dream she'd had during the night flooded back.

  It had not been a dream, of course.

  Mattie groaned, turned onto her stomach, and buried her face in the pillow.

  Idiot. Fool. Dolt. Dunderhead. Half-wit. Dunce.

  She was trying to think of other suitable terms of endearment for herself when she heard boot heels in the hall and a cheerful masculine whistle. A few seconds later the door of the room opened.

  “Hey, babe, you awake yet? Time to rise and shine. Got a plane to catch. I brought you some coffee and a roll. The roll is a little stale, but it's edible.”

  “Oh, my God,” Mattie said into the pillow. Hugh's voice held the unmistakable tone of a man who is very certain he's in control of his woman and his world.

  “Up and at 'em, babe.” Hugh put something down on the dresser and stepped over to the bed to give Mattie an affectionate swat on her rear. “Believe me, I know how you feel. Nothing I'd like better than to crawl back into that bed with you, but we've got to get moving. Plenty of time for fooling around later.”

  Mattie turned her head on the pillow and opened her eyes with a strong sense of foreboding. Hugh was grinning down at her, gray eyes gleaming wit
h sexy satisfaction. He looked his usual vital self dressed in his jeans, boots, and khaki shirt. His hair was still damp from a recent shower. She looked past him, gauging the distance to the tiny bath.

  It was worth a shot.

  “Excuse me,” Mattie said very politely as she slowly sat up, tugging the sheet around herself. “I'm not at my best in the mornings.”

  “Have some coffee. Got it next door at a little hole in the wall joint. Stuff tastes like a cross between burned tires and battery acid. It'll wake you up.” Hugh thrust the cup of steaming brew into Mattie's fingers.

  Clutching the sheet, Mattie looked down at the thick, black liquid. It looked and smelled stronger than the espresso all her friends drank back in Seattle. “I prefer herbal tea in the mornings.”

  “You look like you need something powerful to get you going this morning, babe. Drink up.”

  She did not have the fortitude to argue. She sipped obediently. The dark coffee sent a severe jolt through her entire system. “Yes, that certainly will wake me up.”

  “Told you so. Off you go to the showers, babe.”

  Exerting heroic effort, Mattie stood. She headed straight for the bathroom, the sheet trailing behind her like the train of a somewhat tattered and stained wedding gown.

  She would be home soon, she told herself over and over again. In a day or two she would be back in comfortable, familiar surroundings where she did not have to worry about waking up in sleazy waterfront inns with strange men.

  Damn. How could she have been such a fool?

  Mattie shut the bathroom door quite forcefully and turned to gaze at her reflection in the cracked mirror over the sink. She looked like a walking disaster, she decided critically. Her hair was a wild, tousled mess, there were shadows in the hollows of her cheeks and under her wide, dazed eyes. She wondered if this was how Evangeline looked after a hard night.