Sexy in the City
Page 137
“I don’t see why there’s cause for celebration,” she chimed.
“We’re together and we’re alive.” Brian tapped his flute against hers, the tinkle of crystal on crystal.
“In that order?”
Brian sipped his champagne before speaking.
“I’ve almost lost you twice, at the lighthouse and in the theater. I really don’t want to lose you again.”
She sat in rapt attention.
“ I’ve always been a loner and thought that I was unworthy of loving and being loved. Yet, after the time spent at the cottage, you’re all that I’ve ever thought about, dreamed about and worried about. Losing you would be like losing a part of me. I love you, Angelique.”
She set down her glass on the coffee table. “Oh, Brian, I thought love was music and an audience, but I was wrong. You are love.”
She reached up with her hands to caress the planes of his cheekbones. “I’m in love with you.”
Shivers ran down her neck and spine. As Brian pulled her toward him, by instinct she tilted her head up to face him, her eyes catching his for a glimmering
instant. He lowered his head to brush his lips to hers. The electricity of his touch jolted her. A mere chaste kiss wasn’t enough. She opened his mouth. His tongue licked her lips. She tasted champagne, sweetness, experienced a warmth that filled her. His tongue mingled with hers, sensation upon sensation,
She encircled his neck with her arms for balance as he carried her into the bedroom, the king-sized bed visible from the sitting room. She glanced from Brian’s handsome face to the large bed and closed her eyes to drink in his scented heat, wanting these intimate moments to last forever. Memories of the seaside cottage and of their previous coupling tingled her with anticipation.
As he lowered her on to the brocade bedspread, her eyes fluttered open and she met his dark gaze. His eyes burned with golden flame as he peered down at her. Her heart skipped a beat as desire pulsed within.
Without a word, Brian shrugged off his navy blazer, tossing it on a nearby chair.
Brian let her unbutton his shirt, peeling away the fabric from his bare flesh.
“There,” Angelique purred after releasing the last, button. She reached down for his belt buckle.
Brian grabbed her hand. “Uh, uh . . . first things first.”
She tilted her head, felt her platinum hair swaying to one side. Her eyes met his, questioning.
Brian released her hand, brought it up to his lips, and placed a kiss on it. He dropped her hand and stared at the pale blue silk kimono she wore. The long sleeves slid down to her elbow as she raised her hand. A hint of slender leg peeped out from the front opening.
Angelique took a step back, the back of her knees meeting the bed. She reached down to untie the sash of her kimono and it parted open. She slid the robe off her shoulders, the fabric slithering down her arms, puddling to the floor.
“Oh my,” Brian mumbled.
Angelique bit at her lip during his striptease. She stepped back to the bed and drew back the quilt and cover sheet. As she leaned over, Brian pressed against her, his hands reached up to cup her firm breasts. Lowering his head to her neck, he began to kiss the flesh and nibble at her earlobe. His hands seared a line from her breasts and lower. She sighed at the rush of moist heat and shivering passion.
He turned her around to face him. Her breasts pressed against him while his hardness bulged against her belly. He lowered his head to kiss her. His kiss was hard and deep with tongue and teeth. As she met his touch and taste, he lowered her back on to the bed. The landing was so light on the mattress she hardly felt it. Brian’s heated body slid over hers. For a man of his size, he was gentle and careful, as if dealing with fine porcelain.
She skimmed his powerful shoulders and athletic arms with her fingers, finally burrowing them in his chest of curly, black hair. He never gave up and always completed what he began. Even in bed.
Her fingers reached down to guide him, as she wriggled beneath him and parted her thighs as wide as she could to ease him inside. As she arched up to receive him, he pumped into her.
Angelique bucked her hips in sync with his body. Mere words couldn’t express the indescribable.
Brian shuddered over her, muscles rippling with release. As he did so, she fell over the edge into a shattering oblivion. Currents tingled down to her toes as a euphoric satisfaction washed over her. Flush and damp she clung to his now still form. Being one with him in body as well as soul made her forget the stresses and obligations in her life. He brought an inner peace, a love that was more important than beauty, money, and fame.
• • •
He didn’t know when he fell asleep, but Brian awakened sprawled in a huge bed, his nakedness discreetly covered by a sheet. Only when he rolled over did he remember that he wasn’t alone. Angelique was snuggled in her pillow and sound asleep. Her silver hair cascaded over her milk-white shoulders. The outline of her breasts and hips wrinkled the sheets, her lips were pursed in a thin smile, and her complexion glowed. He half expected a halo to appear.
He shook his head trying to remove the cobwebs of sleep. Making love to Angelique wasn’t a dream, it was real. He hadn’t slept so deeply since . . . the cottage.
Yawning, he pulled back the sheet, trying not to disturb her. Gingerly, he slid from the bed and scanned the room for his clothes. Grabbing the lot of them, he headed into the bathroom for a quick shower.
Brian didn’t hear the door to the bathroom open nor did he see Angelique. The pulsating water and the steam blocked out all sight and sound. When the shower door opened, though, he almost jumped through the ceiling, as if he half expected Norman Bates from Psycho. Instead, Angelique stepped into the shower, her Venus to his David.
He moved to the side to allow her the water’s full force. She tilted her face up to the flow, drenching her hair. Glistening droplets rained down on her face, neck, over the curves of her breast and lower. Brian handed her his bar of soap.
She cocked her eyebrows and raised her hand. She had her own. Soon a green apple scent permeated the shower. It smelled like an orchard. He grabbed the soap from her and began to cleanse her back. At least that was his original intention until she moved and his fingers slithered around her breasts. Feeling the nipples harden beneath his touch made him harden in a way he could neither hide nor ignore. Angelique looked down at his shaft and, lathering her hands with the scented bar of soap, reached down to caress it.
Brian grabbed the soap from her and set it in the soap holder. What was she doing to him? Under spray and mist, he lifted her, grasping her bare buttocks.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms encircling his neck. With a giggle, she pressed against him. As his shaft touched her, she wriggled against him and helped him enter.
Brian thought he’d die. Holding her in his arms while they rocked their way to ecstasy was like the fulfillment of some fantasy. He never felt that way with anyone, even Stacey.
Angelique moaned and threw back her head as she climaxed. Brian just squeezed her, standing still and rigid as he came.
To be funny, she handed him the bar of green soap.
“No, you don’t,” he said in his dusky voice, eyes sparkling. He bent to kiss her full on the lips as the water drizzled over them. Releasing her, his knees were weak as her feet touched the tile.
• • •
Later, they breakfasted on hot cereal, fried eggs, ham, and hearty bread ordered from room service. After lovemaking, he was starving. The sex filled one need while creating another. He rolled up his shirtsleeves and, buttered a piece of bread with vigor as Angelique sat watching him. She sipped her juice, eyes twinkling.
“What’s so amusing?” he asked.
“You.”
“I guess I have been rather entertaining lately,” he mused with a wink.
“I forgot how much you like to eat,” she said.
He smiled, thinking about their simple meals together in the cottage’s cramped kitch
en. “Hey, getting this food wasn’t easy.”
“I’m the one who ordered room service.”
“Yeah, but I’m the one who answered your door,” he said, arching his brows. “Your security guards have been eyeing me like I’m some kind of stud. Who knows what they’re thinking about us.” He bit into his bread.
“They’re French. Lovemaking is second nature to them. I would be less of a woman if I didn’t have lovers,” she said, sitting back in her chair, sipping juice.
“A lover,” he said, setting down his bread.
Seeing how lovely she looked in the morning, he could see how she’d have little trouble attracting lovers. She didn’t need cosmetics—like her voice and lovemaking her appearance needed no improvement. Perfection wasn’t just in her oval face, but in the brain hidden beneath that platinum hair and her soul bursting through her blue eyes.
Setting down her glass, she reached across the table and grasped his hand.
“Brian, I’m afraid to continue the tour alone. Can you join me? If not for the remainder, at least for a couple of cities?” she asked.
“You’ve decided to continue the tour?” he asked, startled, but not surprised. Angelique wasn’t one to give up.
“I can’t let one incident stifle my career. Why should my public be punished for the actions of a few? I can‘t stop living.”
“Someone else will stop it for you,” he mumbled, the words coming from his heart and not his brain. Losing her would be worse than entering the depths of hell. He squeezed her hand.
“I am a singer. I sing. I can’t have the Davidsons or anyone else stop me. I think it’s what they want. I won’t give in. I won’t stop.”
“What can I do? When you’re on stage, you’re alone and vulnerable.”
“Lightning rarely strikes twice.”
“Rarely, not never.” He released her hand.
“Did you give up your career in journalism the first time bullets began to fly?” she asked.
“No.”
“Well?” she asked, tilting her head and smiling.
“I won’t stop you. I won’t stop worrying either.”
“Security is going to be tighter and if the elusive ‘they’ strike again we’ll be ready. Half the world is looking out for ‘them’ as it is.”
He sighed. “Okay, but I have to make some phone calls first. I need to inform Sam of my change of plans, though I’m sure he’d find the continuation of your story more interesting than any other. ”
“My plane is scheduled to leave tonight at dusk.”
“I’ll have to make the phone calls and get my stuff from my hotel first.”
Chapter 21
As he slipped his keycard in his hotel room lock he mentally went over how to arrange things with Sam. His assignment on Putin was almost completed. He could forward the manuscript to Our World. Sam would have to understand he couldn’t leave Angelique alone after recent developments. Since her life had become his life, Brian was obligated to be with her. Besides, the attempt on her life and the time after would be a story unto itself.
The moment the door to his room swung open, he knew something was terribly wrong. Though not the neatest person, his room was not as he had left it. A floor lamp lay across the worn carpet, its bulb shattered and shade flung across the room. Drapes were torn from the windows and hung like laundry from the bent rods. The bed was stripped and the bedding heaped in wrinkled piles. Pillows had been knifed. Leaving feathers floating in the drafty air from windows broken open.
He hesitated before stepping in for a better look, first peering into the bathroom to be assured no one was hiding. The towels had been mangled and the shower curtain ripped. Water sloshed beneath his feet and the pungent scent of sewer waste from the stopped-up toilet penetrated his nostrils.
“Shit,” he screamed, stepping out of the wet and onto the bedroom carpet, using it as a doormat.
He glanced over at the television with its screen shattered by a fierce blow. Next to it lay his laptop computer, pulverized.
“Damn.”
He moved over to the close where his clothes had been sliced to shreds and his backpack riffled through and sliced.
“I guess I won’t have to pack after all,” he mumbled aloud, trying to find some humor in the situation.
If someone was trying to frighten him, he thought, they were trying too hard. He didn’t frighten easily and if they were trying to dissuade him from his relationship with Angelique they were not succeeding. The shambled mess before him only added impetus to his desire to join her on tour. One thing he knew was that the Davidsons or whoever else was orchestrating these tactics was not going to quit. Protecting Angelique was paramount.
• • •
After contacting the authorities, Brian flagged down a taxi and raced to Angelique’s hotel. He wasn’t going to wait around his own room to speak to authorities when Angelique could be in danger. An eerie calm settled over the lobby, with its dark wood paneling, austere gilded paintings, and shiny tiled floor with woven rugs. He approached the front desk and was greeted by a woman whose English was as crisp as her uniform.
“May I help you, sir?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m Brian Andrews here to see Miss Angelique,” he stated. The protocol was for the front desk to inform Angelique and her security force in advance.
“I’m sorry, sir, but she and her entourage have checked out.”
“Checked out?” Brian asked, his heart stopping cold.
“Yes, sir.”
“When?”
“About a half-hour ago.”
Brian scrunched his eyes closed and swallowed hard. He had no sooner left for his hotel than Angelique and her guards departed. She hadn’t mentioned a pending departure. Angelique had told him the plane was scheduled to leave at dusk and it was nowhere near dusk.
“What the hell is going on?” he asked, opening his eyes.
The clerk’s eyes grew wide and she stared at him.
“Did they say where they were going?”
“No, sir. All I know is they checked out and departed in a limousine.”
“Did she leave a message for me?”
“No messages, Mr. Andrews.”
“Great.” He pounded his fist on the counter before turning and walking away. Angelique was gone and he had no idea where she was headed.
• • •
In a daze, head lowered, hands jammed into his pants pockets, he strolled the shopping promenade of the elegant hotel until he found a quiet corner in the lobby to dial up Sam on his cell phone.
“Greenberg,” Sam answered in his brusque voice.
“Hey, Sam, it’s Brian.”
“Where the hell are you?”
“Still in Moscow,” he answered and sighed.
“You better get your ass back to the States pronto.”
“Sam, tell me what’s going on. I can take it. Hell, I returned to my hotel after a visit with Angelique to find it ransacked. All I’m left with are the clothes on my back and the important stuff in my waist safe. I’m at Angelique’s hotel where I discovered she’s checked out without so much as leaving me a note. Anything you say can’t be much worse.”
“Angelique’s en route to Berlin and she’s safe,” Sam explained, his voice firm and resolute.
“How do you know and I don’t?”
“Long story. Just get back to the States. I don’t want to lose my ace reporter.”
“I can fly to Berlin,” he said..
“Don’t. Don’t even consider it.”
“Come on, Sam, give me some good reasons.”
“Reason number one: Moscow is a dangerous place for you now. Berlin won’t be much safer. Reason number two: Angelique has bodyguards who consider her safety first, and not yours.”
“The Davidsons and their henchmen don’t frighten me,” he said, sitting up straight.
“That’s what I’m afraid of. Come on, Brian, cut out the heroics. You were almost killed once. If I were you, I
wouldn’t be pressing my luck.”
“Sam?”
“Come home, Brian.”
• • •
The flight home was the most depressing in his career. Returning to New York City was like admitting defeat, and he had never been one to give up and flee when the going got tough. If not for Sam’s admonishment, he would have hopped a jet to Berlin to confront Angelique . How could she just up and leave without saying goodbye? Especially after all they had shared. All the talk about him joining her on the remainder of her tour, of not wanting to be away from him. Didn’t it matter? Didn’t he matter?
He drank too many Scotch and sodas on the plane, but was grateful for the swift and deep sleep. Alcohol dulled his senses and his dreams. He didn’t want to dream about Angelique, her silken body and caresses, her kisses and her words.
When he awakened, dawn was making its presence known, the harsh sunlight glaring into his face from the cabin window. He veiled his eyes with his arm and groaned. A headache from the drinks and the light was coming on. He welcomed black coffee from the stewardess. Life could be hell and this was one good example, he thought.
• • •
He didn’t even stop at his apartment after landing and passing through customs at JFK Airport. He had a lot of explaining to do at customs. The officers found it hard to believe anyone would return from a trip to the without a suitcase or a carry-on bag. Brian considered their interrogations just one more obstacle to overcome. After, he took a taxi to the headquarters of Our World magazine.
Without waiting for the secretary to page and without knocking, he barged into Sam’s office.
“What the . . . ?” Sam began when he looked up to see him standing before his desk with the demeanor of a junkyard dog. His khaki outfit was wrinkled, his hair tousled, his eyes dark and dangerous, and his teeth bared as if ready to growl.
“Sam, I know you’re hiding some information on Angelique. I want to know and I want to know now,” he demanded, leaning forward and setting his hands on Sam’s chipped metal desk.