by Amanda Quick
“Whether or not I accept your invitation depends on the answer to a question I need to ask,” she said against his warm throat.
“Now you’ve got me terrified. What’s the question?”
She pulled away from him, just far enough to meet his eyes. “Will I be the only one taking chances tonight?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got a tin of pros.”
It took her a beat to realize he was talking about prophylactics—condoms. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks and was suddenly very glad of the shadows. She did not know whether to be pleased or infuriated. Had he been expecting her to simply fall into bed with him?
“You came prepared?” she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.
“That’s a trick question, isn’t it?” He cradled her face in his hands and traced the lines of her jaw with his thumbs. “If I answer yes, I’m in trouble because it will look like I’ve been planning to get you into bed from the start. If I say no, you’ll wonder why I just happen to have the pros with me when I’m supposed to be doing my job, keeping you safe.”
“You’re right. It was a trick question. Don’t bother answering.”
“Too late. The answer is the hotel bellman. When he delivered the dinner jacket I ordered this afternoon there was a tin in the pocket.”
“Was it there because you requested it?”
“I’m afraid so. Does knowing that ruin the moment?”
“Nope. It means that your intuition really is very good. But just to be clear. When I asked you if I was the only one taking chances tonight, I wasn’t talking about prophylactics.”
“Ah. You meant that going to bed with me is risky because neither of us knows how it will end.”
“Something like that.”
He moved one hand through her hair as if he was threading strands of silk through his fingers.
“No,” he said, “you are not the only one taking a chance tonight.”
She threw her arms around his neck. “In that case, my answer is yes.”
“Vivian.”
He spoke her name as if it held a kind of magic; a name to conjure with in the darkness of night.
He scooped her up in his arms and carried her through the scented garden to the front door of the villa.
Chapter 36
Vivian wasn’t entirely sure how he got her through the door and into the shadowed hall. She was vaguely aware of Rex. The dog showed up briefly to greet them. When he discovered he was not going to get the usual amount of attention, he disappeared into the living room.
The next thing she knew, she was in Nick’s room. He set her on her feet beside the bed, reached down, and ripped the quilt and sheet aside. Breathless, she fumbled with the fasteners at the waist of the gown.
“Let me do it,” Nick said.
He put his hands on her shoulders, turned her gently around, and undid the hooks and eyes. The garnet satin cascaded into a pool at her feet, leaving her in a pair of dainty panties, a silky bra, garter belt, stockings, and red evening sandals.
“You are so lovely,” he said.
There was wonder in each word.
He touched her breasts as if they were delicate works of art. Then he moved his hands to her waist and lifted her out of the crumpled gown. He sat her on the edge of the bed.
When he went down on one knee in front of her she almost stopped breathing. Don’t do this. Don’t ask me to marry you. It’s too soon. It’s crazy. I don’t want to have to think about anything else except tonight. I don’t want to have to think at all. I just want to be with you.
But of course he didn’t stun her with an out-of-the-blue proposal. What had made her think he would do such a thing? He had made his thoughts on intimate relationships clear earlier that day when they had been standing in front of the gallery. I don’t know about love and marriage but I’ve got nothing against passion.
She allowed herself to breathe again. There was no need to panic. Nick had experienced one disastrous runaway marriage. He would be wary of making another serious commitment. And hadn’t she decided she was a modern woman who was not bound by society’s rules and conventions? She planned to devote herself to her art.
Unaware of her tumultuous thoughts, Nick cradled first her right foot and then her left in his strong hands and undid the straps of her sandals.
The important thing was that both of them understood that a single night of passion meant nothing more or less than what it was—a single night of passion.
She watched Nick, wondering if he had any idea of just how sensual the act of removing her shoes was.
“The other freelancers called me Cinderella,” she said. “Every time I showed up at midnight at a crime scene they said I must be looking for Prince Charming. Tonight I feel like I found him. Except you should be putting on my glass slippers, not taking them off.”
He stroked her stocking-clad leg and then got to his feet.
“I’m not Prince Charming,” he said, “so I don’t have to follow the script.”
“Thank goodness.”
She undid the fasteners on the dainty garter belt, rolled her stockings down, and slipped them off her feet. He watched, seemingly mesmerized, as she took off the belt.
At that point she was chagrined to discover that she did not have the extra ounce of boldness it took to remove her silk panties.
“Your turn,” she said softly.
He peeled off the evening jacket and tossed it over a chair. Then unbuckled the holster and set it on the table beside the bed.
He sat down and started to remove his shoes.
“Let me,” she said.
She knelt in front of him and took off his shoes and socks.
“You have very nice feet,” she said. “Strong. Well made.”
“Vivian, you are going to drive me right out of my mind.”
He stood and started to loosen the black bow tie. He never took his eyes off her. The energy in the room excited her senses in ways she had never experienced.
She rose and took over the task of untying the length of black silk. It wasn’t easy because her fingers trembled. She finally got the tie undone. Nick stripped it off and draped it around her neck. He tugged on the ends, pulling her close for another deep kiss.
When he finally raised his head his eyes were fever hot. Everything inside her tightened in anticipation. He deliberately removed her panties.
She sat down before she collapsed and watched, fascinated, as Nick took off his crisp white shirt and undershirt. He reached into the pocket of his trousers and took out a small tin. She watched him walk around the end of the bed. He set the condoms on the nightstand next to the gun without saying a word. Then he finished undressing.
She had sensed the fierceness of his erection when he had held her close in the garden but the sight of his aroused body was both thrilling and shocking. She’d had the one ridiculous affair with Winston Bancroft and she had photographed a great many nude or nearly nude men, but this was different.
This was really different. Nick was different.
Nick started toward the bed. “You had better not be thinking of grabbing your camera and taking a photograph.”
He surprised a nervous laugh from her. “I didn’t mean to stare.” She scrambled into bed, pulling the sheet up to cover herself. “It’s just that I wasn’t expecting you to have such an, ah, impressive physique.”
He looked as if he wasn’t sure what to do or where to go with that observation. She thought he turned a little red. But before she could decide if she had embarrassed him, he switched off the lamp and got into bed.
He stretched out under the sheet and propped himself up on his elbow to look down at her.
“You’ve seen a lot of naked men,” he said.
“Yes, I have, as a matter of fact.” She turned on her side and drew her fingertips do
wn his chest. “I believe that I am exceptionally well qualified to judge the male form.” She drew her palm lower, across his firm belly, and lower still. She closed her fingers around him. “Trust me, when I say impressive, I mean impressive.”
He gave a short, hoarse groan that was half laugh and half raw desire and leaned over her, caging her with his arms. His mouth came down on hers.
The kiss was long and hot and wet. When it ended she was clawing at the bare skin of his back. He paused long enough to open the tin and sheath himself. When he was ready he turned back to her and began a long, leisurely journey of exploration. He used his mouth, his tongue, and his fingers to arouse and ignite until she was desperate for him. She had never before been so close to the edge.
Her climax rose up out of nowhere, taking her by surprise. At first she did not comprehend what was happening. In the next moment wave after wave of sensation rippled through her.
“Yes,” she said. She grasped a fistful of sheet in one hand and sank the nails of her other hand deep into the sleek muscles of Nick’s shoulders. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
And then it was over. She was thrilled, exultant, amazed. It was as if she had just found the secret to the best photograph of her life. When she finally caught her breath she started to giggle. The giggle became laughter.
Nick sat up and watched her, bemused.
“That’s not quite the reaction I was hoping for,” he said.
Horrified that she had accidentally offended him, she pushed him onto his back and sprawled on top of him.
“I’ve got news for you,” she said. “It was exactly what I was hoping for.”
He caught hold of her shoulders and smiled another of his rare, wicked smiles. His eyes got a little hotter.
“Is that right?” he said.
“It’s never happened to me, you see.” She brushed her mouth across his and smiled what she knew was a very smug sort of smile. “I had almost convinced myself that I would never know what it felt like. Don’t you understand what just happened?”
“Well, biologically speaking—”
“Forget biology. You just proved that I’m not frigid.”
He raised his brows. “The possibility that you might be frigid never once crossed my mind.”
She smiled. “When you told me that your marriage had been annulled, it never once crossed my mind that the problem might have been your inability to carry out your husbandly duties in the bedroom.”
“You’re sure?”
“Okay, I admit it was on the list of possibilities but it was at the very bottom.”
“I am prepared to offer further proof that I am not incapacitated.”
She reached down and wrapped her fingers around him. “Yes, I can see that.”
She stroked him, her grasp increasingly tight. He sucked in a deep breath.
“I can’t take this much longer,” he warned.
“No waiting necessary.”
She sat up, straddled him, and slowly lowered herself until he was filling her completely. His eyes half closed. He gripped her thighs. When she began to move, he thrust into her again and again. She was still so sensitized from her release that the experience of having him deep inside her was almost unbearable. She was balanced on the exquisite edge between pain and pleasure. She knew from his sweat-soaked body and the fierce expression on his face that he was there on the same edge.
When his release struck with the force of a storm, they both went over together.
Chapter 37
Nick emerged from the bathroom smiling a decidedly satisfied smile.
“What’s so funny?” Vivian asked.
“You. Sorry.” He climbed back into bed. “Where in hell did you get the notion that you were frigid? Been reading Dr. Freud or one of his followers?”
“Winston Bancroft.”
“Oh, right. The art photographer who insulted your talent. You said things ended with a major scene.”
“Yes. There was a bit more to the story than the insult to my talent. That was reason enough to end things, of course. But I also discovered the reason he lied to me and said glowing things about my art was because he wanted to get his hands on my family’s money.”
“Talk about adding insult to injury.” Nick paused. “Huh.”
“It’s hard to make a living as a photographer, even for someone of Winston’s stature. In his defense, he has his dreams, just as I have mine. Winston’s goal was, and probably still is, to establish his own art school, an academy, and a gallery that will focus on elevating photography into the fine arts.”
“What, exactly, got said in the course of the big breakup scene?”
“Well, first I told him that I’d had to fake every orgasm I’d ever claimed to have had with him, all three of them.”
“You said that in front of the gallery owner?”
“Yep. That made Winston furious, of course. That’s when he called me frigid. He said I obviously had a deep-seated neurosis that prevented me from achieving orgasm.”
“That must have been some scene.”
“I’m afraid so. When I told Winston that I didn’t think there was anything wrong with me and that he was the one with the problem, he was even more outraged. He turned a very interesting shade of purple. I stormed out of the office and out of his life. Haven’t spoken to him since.”
“Huh.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that in the past couple of minutes.”
“Well, damn.”
“Damn?”
“Looks like we have to add another suspect to our list.”
“Winston?” Vivian was floored. “Forget it. He was angry when I walked out but not that angry.”
“Is he still living in San Francisco?”
Vivian hesitated. “Well, no. Last I heard he had joined an artist’s colony on the coast.”
“Where on the coast?”
Vivian groaned. “About twenty miles south of here. That’s why he’s been able to get his work installed at galleries in places such as Burning Cove and Adelina Beach. Curators and gallery owners love him. He can be very charming.”
“That puts him squarely in the Los Angeles area. If we’re right that the killer finds his clients in and around L.A.—”
“I just can’t see Winston wanting to murder me. There wouldn’t be any point. The only way he could have gotten his hands on my father’s money is if he had married me. That option is definitely off the table.”
Nick rolled onto his side and looked at her. A low-grade fever burned in his eyes.
“Money isn’t the only motive for murder,” he said. “The desire for revenge is an acid that destroys everything it touches.”
“We can’t just keep adding names to your suspect list.”
“You’re right.” Nick eased the covers aside and sat up on the edge of the bed. “It’s time to edit our list.”
“How?”
“By going back to the issue that has been bothering us from the start.”
“What is that?”
“The fact that an unknown photographer who is trying to make her mark in the art world was the target of not just one but two attacks within the span of slightly less than a month.”
Vivian smiled at the energy around him. “Do you always go right back to work after making love?”
She winced at her own words. Should have said, Do you always go right back to work after going to bed with someone? She shouldn’t have used the word love.
But Nick was apparently too preoccupied with his thoughts to pay attention to nuances. He got to his feet and went to the door. He paused to look back at her.
“No,” he said. “Usually I just go to sleep afterward. Something about being with you seems to have cleared my head.”
He was serious.
Well, at least she was
proving to be useful, she thought.
Chapter 38
They got a couple of hours of sleep before room service delivered breakfast. They ate the grapefruit, eggs, and toast at the small table on the patio. Rex wolfed down the steak and eggs the kitchen had sent to the villa in a large bowl.
Nick discovered that he was ravenous. It was not an unusual state of affairs. He was always hungry when he started making progress on a case.
Vivian picked up the silver pot and poured two cups of coffee. Nick polished off the last slice of toast, sat back, and picked up his notebook.
“All right, here’s what we’ve got,” he said. “Our list of suspects includes Hamilton Merrick, Lyra’s fiancé. His motive is the Brazier family fortune.”
“Hamilton no longer has a motive,” Vivian pointed out. “He’s now an ex-fiancé.”
Nick looked up from his notes. “That doesn’t mean he can or will call off the assassin. He may think he can convince Lyra to forgive him. Or he may simply want revenge now. It’s also quite possible that he has no way to contact the killer to stop the process.”
“Okay, he stays on your list but I still can’t imagine him commissioning a murder.”
“In that same category, we also have Winston Bancroft. Motive: revenge.” Nick tapped the pencil against the notebook. “They say that revenge is a dish that is best served cold but the truth is, people usually prefer to serve it blazing hot.”
“I think Winston would go the blazing-hot route. I told you, he’s inclined toward heavy drama. I can’t see him waiting this long to exact revenge. What’s more, if you think about it, he’s already been avenged. He’s the one who has work hanging in prestigious galleries, not me.”
“If you’re reading him right—”
“Pretty sure I am.”
“It means he goes to the bottom of the list.” Nick put a check mark beside Bancroft’s name. “I will also admit I’m inclined to agree with you about Hamilton Merrick. Not because he isn’t the type to hire a killer but because it would have made more sense for him to wait until he was safely married to Lyra before he got rid of you.”