by Laura Leone
“What do you want to do?” she murmured, eyes closed.
“You know what I want.” One hand slid around her back to pull her closer. He pressed their hips together, and he didn’t need words to describe what he wanted.
Diana made a tiny sound, caught between desire and indecision. But despite her reservations, her hands were already on his chest, seeking and stimulating rather than warding him off. He waited for her answer, neither apologizing for his hunger nor trying to force her decision. And the fact that he treated her as an adult, rather than as a silly piece of fluff, who could be kissed into submission, tipped the scales in his favor.
She rubbed her forehead against his, remembering with a rush of affection all the times in the shop he had known what she needed from him before she asked for it, all the times he had sensed her weariness, impatience, or exasperation. Her hands slid over his shoulders and around his neck as she recalled all the times he had been bewildered, astounded, or amused by her yoga positions, her dietary habits, and her unorthodox background.
“Let’s stay home tonight,” she whispered.
“Mmm.” There was satisfaction and pleasure in the sound. He nuzzled her, touching and stroking before he wrapped his arms around her. His moist mouth teased her ear, her neck, her eyelids.
She sought his kiss with eager lips, and when their mouths met, she dived headfirst into the passion that flooded the room in a heady rush.
Oh, he knew how to kiss, wonderfully, deliciously, with probing playful lips and a silky agile tongue. She leaned against him and let the arm around his neck support her when the floor started to tilt and crumble. She couldn’t even remember closing her eyes, but now her lids were too heavy to lift. She sank deeper and deeper into the swirling blackness and the feel of his passion.
He brought his hands up to her face and held it between his palms. He kissed her long and leisurely, stroking the roof of her mouth with his tongue, teasing her, taking pleasure in her. Then he pulled back and met her eyes.
His were dark and sparking with need. Diana suddenly remembered her first impression of him—danger. He was dangerous again, she realized. Not to her person, but to her peace of mind.
Nick stepped back and took her hand into his. “Come on,” he whispered, nodding toward his bedroom.
She followed him with slow, measured steps as he led her down the hallway. There would be no room for secrets or inhibitions in Nick’s bed, she knew, and that was why he seemed dangerous.
But she followed him willingly into his room and watched with her heart in her eyes as he closed the door. Then something important occurred to her.
“Wait,” she said, reaching for the doorknob.
“What’s wrong?”
“I have to go upstairs for a minute.”
“No you don’t.”
“Nick, I—”
“I’ve taken care of it.” He patted the pocket of his jeans.
She looked at him incredulously. “Do you always carry around—”
“No, of course not.” He grinned at her. “Call it precognition. I had a feeling about tonight, so I stopped on my way back here.”
She smiled and let go of the knob. “Precognition? Or did you plan this every step of the way?”
He shrugged and nodded toward the bed. “Well, this can’t come as a total surprise after... everything else.”
She couldn’t disagree with that, and she let him draw her toward his double bed. He sat down on the edge, pulled her between his legs, and put his hands on her waist. The way he looked at her made her feel like Venus in the moonlight.
They kissed, tenderly and gently at first, then with increasing demand as their blood started heating up and their hands sought out new territory. He helped her pull her dress over her head, then drew in a sharp breath when he saw the slip that covered her.
“Is this silk?”
“Yes.” She unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. She laughed breathlessly when they got tangled up, since he wouldn’t stop running his hands over her silk-clad body for long enough to let her pull his sleeves over his arms.
“Hold still,” she ordered.
“I can’t,” he murmured. “I’ve spent whole nights wondering what you wore under your clothes.”
“Really?” That set off a whole new string of reactions.
“If I’d known you looked like this underneath, I’d have torn off your clothes days ago.” He rubbed his mouth across her midriff while she finished yanking off his shirt.
“The next part’s going to be even better,” he said with certainty and started to draw her slip up the length of her body.
When she pulled the slip over her head, he pushed her panties to the floor. Then he held her hips between his hands and looked at her with eager eyes.
“Now this,” he said at last, “is what I call a heavenly body.”
He grinned and pulled her against him. His hands were clever and massaging, thorough and shameless. The light, insistent friction of his palms teased her nipples to aching hardness. He brought every inch of her skin tingling to life, stroking and touching her stomach, her calves, the small of her back, the inside of her elbows, the length of her thighs.
His skin radiated a searing heat that burned through to her soul, and she couldn’t touch him enough. The corded efficiency of his muscles fascinated her, the light covering of black hair on his chest tickled her fingers delightfully, and the hard, smooth planes of his back excited her.
She slid down in his embrace to kneel before him, between his tense legs, and started unbuckling his belt with trembling fingers. That enlivened things so much that it was a long time before she managed to finish pulling off his jeans. Diana barely had time to look at him before he swung her back into his arms and they tumbled across the bed together. Oh, well, she knew there would be plenty of time later for looking.
Bodies straining together, arms wrapped around each other, legs sliding and shifting, they fed their hungry passion with rough, savage kisses. Air burned down Diana’s throat and into her lungs, the way his kisses burned her breasts, her stomach, her shoulders. He touched his lips to a nipple, first tenderly, then voraciously, before closing his mouth around it and suckling her with a delicate force that made her cry out and arch her back off the bed. Through the dark mist of her passion she thought she was scratching him or maybe pulling his hair, then the way his cheeks contracted, the way his tongue lapped and laved, burned the last remnants of her self-control to ashes.
She bucked restlessly under him, tormented by the ache he had created. It was tearing her to pieces, throbbing deep inside her, and only he could make it better.
Her wordless pleas and urgent hands communicated her desperation to him, and he slid his fingers down to the silky hair between her legs.
“Ohhh,” he groaned when his fingers found her swollen and damp. “That’s perfect.”
He rubbed the heel of his hand against her in a slow, steady motion that made her pant as if she were dying, made the fire inside her run like liquid lightning.
Nick closed his eyes and trembled when she slipped her hand along his body, explored him with bold curiosity, then wrapped her fingers around him in hot demand. She was magic and fantasy, she was everything he had dreamed she would be and more. He wanted to care for her as much as to devour her.
“Where are you going?” she breathed when he started to roll shakily away from her.
“Just a minute,” he whispered. Scarcely knowing which way was up, he leaned over the side of the bed and stretched out his arm, trying to reach his jeans without losing contact with her.
“What are you doing?” Laughter and passion mingled in her strained voice; his position was causing them both to start tilting toward the edge of the bed.
“I can’t quite reach it,” he groaned. “Let go for a minute.”
“Let me—” She rolled in the same direction, entranced by the arch of his back and the way it defined so many long, smooth muscles.
“Yikes!
Stretched halfway over the edge of the bed as he was, her sudden movement shifted their combined weight, and they slid off and tumbled to the floor, taking half the bedspread with them in a tangle of arms and legs. They crash-landed in a messy heap and laughed as they squirmed and fumbled together, until Nick was able to reach into the pocket of his crumpled blue jeans.
He took the precautions they needed and then pulled her beneath him and fitted himself comfortably between her thighs. She raised her knees and arched her back gracefully to accommodate him. He positioned himself carefully, wanting everything to be perfect for her, then lowered his face to the scented hollow of her neck and drove into her with slow strength.
Diana clutched him compulsively, squeezing her eyes shut and making throaty little moans as she felt him bury himself inside her, hot and hard, thick and smooth. After that, everything that happened between them was pure instinct, raw and primitive, untamed and uninhibited. She responded to every kiss, every thrust, every whisper with all her body and soul, offering him everything she had, begging him shamelessly for everything he could give.
The rhythm of their entwined, sweat-slick bodies was frantic and abandoned; tangled in the bedspread, they slid across the polished floor in sudden jolts. She loved the sounds he made, the chest-deep groans and breathless sighs that told her how much she pleased him, how splendorous this was for him, too.
When he brought her to a writhing, searing climax of pleasure, the way he held her and encouraged her made it go on and on, made it so strong and sweet and hot. She weakly did the same for him when his body tensed and arched above her, and a long, rough sound of fulfillment tore through him before he sagged against her in exhaustion.
They lay quietly together for a long time afterward, enjoying the pleasures of intimacy and release. It was all so right that Diana wondered why she’d had any doubts. How could she have withheld her trust from a man who made love so beautifully, with such a shattering combination of demand and tenderness?
After a while he raised his head and met her eyes. His were bright and clear, fringed by the dark lashes that drooped over them lazily. “Well,” he murmured, brushing her hair away from her face, “I have to admit it was well worth the wait.”
She smiled and arched against him. “I’m hungry now.”
“It figures.” He kissed her briefly. “We could go upstairs.”
“I don’t feel like cooking.”
“I don’t feel like getting dressed again tonight. And I definitely don’t want you to get dressed.” He grinned, and the way he looked suddenly made her feel possessive and proud. “Let’s get take-out.”
“There’s a vegetarian shop about five blocks away that delivers.”
He sighed. “Order us something substantial,” he told her as he rolled away so she could get up. “You’ll need all your strength later. I have plans.”
She stood and slid her slip over her head, then looked down at him mischievously. “So do I,” she promised. “I’ll be right back.”
Diana scooped up her dress and left the room. A moment later, Nick heard her descend the stairs to the shop to use the telephone there.
Too lazy and content to budge, he folded his arms behind his head and relaxed on the floor, staring at the ceiling. He felt great.
Until he decided that he had better tell her the truth right away. Worry chased through his mind. He wasn’t sure how she’d take it. But surely after what they’d just shared, after everything they were beginning to realize they could share... surely she’d overlook his subterfuge? Well, after a little shouting, anyhow, he acknowledged with a wry smile.
“Nick!”
He sat up when he heard her call up the stairs. She had only been gone about five minutes, so he was sure the food hadn’t arrived yet. “What?” he called.
“You have a telephone call!”
That surprised him. This was the first call he had received at the House of Ishtar. No one but Peter and Mrs. Milne knew where he was, and they wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency. “Be right there!” He snatched up his jeans, stepped into them, scooped his shirt off the floor, and thrust his arms into the sleeves as he trotted downstairs.
When Diana handed him the telephone receiver, he could see by the look on her face that she was as surprised as he. She turned her back and looked through the carryout menu, but she would obviously hear everything he said.
“Hello?”
“Nick,” Peter said. “Sorry to cut into your evening, but we’ve got problems.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Bouvier freaked out when Mrs. Milne told him the case was closed. He’s on his way over here now, threatening to sue us or something, if we don’t prove Felix is fraudulent or incompetent.”
“What?” Nick glanced uneasily at Diana. “How can he expect... Never mind. I’ll come right over.”
“Good. Whatever happens tonight, you can bet we won’t get the rest of our fee out of him,” Peter said morosely.
“No, you’re probably right,” said Nick. “I’ll see you in a little while.”
He hung up and stared at the phone, deeply troubled. He had a feeling this was going to be messy.
“Something wrong?” Diana asked.
The gentle, generous look of concern in her wide, green eyes nearly unraveled him. He wanted so much to be with her tonight. He wanted to set things straight, to love her, to clear his conscience and give her every reason to trust him. Instead, he had to explain her innocence to a jerk like Claude Bouvier.
“I’m sorry, honey. I’ve got to go.”
“A friend of yours?” she asked, watching him button his shirt.
“Yes. No.” He met her confused stare and sighed. “I can’t explain it right now, Diana.”
“Okay,” she said.
Something about the simple, confident tone of her voice reached out and wrapped around him, warming and comforting him. He abandoned his efforts to finish dressing and took her into his arms. She came to him with such ready affection that it made his heart swell.
“It’s already late,” he whispered, rubbing his cheek against her hair, “so I might not make it back tonight. I’ll explain everything tomorrow.”
She nodded and nuzzled his throat. They held each other for a moment of mingled regret and contentment, then he released her reluctantly.
“Trust me?” He wished he didn’t need to ask.
She didn’t even look as though it was a peculiar thing for him to say. “Yes.”
He kissed her softly. “See you.”
Diana watched him leave, then slowly climbed the stairs to her apartment. She was sorry they had been interrupted, but she was filled with a sense of well-being that couldn’t be disturbed. Upstairs in the kitchen, she found Felix’s new tarot deck lying on the table. On a whim, she cut the deck and looked at the card.
The Lovers. Diana hugged herself and grinned.
She felt too good to just rattle around in the empty house, so she showered, got dressed, and decided to treat herself to a good meal at one of her favorite restaurants. There was usually someone there whom she knew.
And even if there wasn’t, she would hardly be lonely. Not with memories of tonight and plans for tomorrow night to keep her company.
Chapter Six
KNIGHT OF CUPS
Minor Arcana
Meaning: A young man of grace, a dreamer, a sensualist.
Reversed: Fraud; deceit; physical or spiritual seduction.
As he had predicted, Nick didn’t return to the House of Ishtar that night. Diana slept wrapped in the memory of his touch, and she bounded out of bed with bright eagerness the following morning, rising early to teach a yoga class before the shop opened.
Felix arrived shortly before ten o’clock, barely in time for his first consultation.
“Why are you late?” Diana asked when he came through the front door. “I was getting worried.”
“Jora wo
uldn’t let me leave any sooner. She said there was going to be a road accident, and she waited until it was over before she let me go.”
“Oh.”
“Where’s Nick?”
“He had some kind of emergency last night. He’ll be here later.” Felix’s silent stare made Diana ask, “Why? Is something wrong?”
“There are many conflicting impulses in the House of Ishtar, Diana.”
“What does that have to do with Nick?” she asked uneasily, wondering how much Felix and Jora Lemon knew about last night.
“Jora believes Nick is the source of these conflicts.”
“She knows about Nick?” Diana asked, surprised at the psychic’s insight, despite similar experiences in the past.
“She said that there is a stranger among us, a man who has gained our trust and friendship, but he is not what he seems. It is he who disturbs the aura of our home. He misdirects our concentration and pulls a veil across cosmic truth. He has lied even to the stars!”
Diana recognized Jora’s rhetorical style. “She said all that?”
Felix nodded. “He’s deceiving us. And yet he is in turmoil, too. And his conflicting impulses have reached out to engulf us.”
Diana felt a sense of dread begin to swell inside her. She took a steadying breath. This was absurd. She was not going to go to pieces over the ominous predictions of a psychic who challenged the integrity of the man she was falling in love with.
She said, “He... I’m aware that he keeps secrets, Felix, but he’s a good man, and I’m sure he means us no harm.”
“Perhaps not him. But someone means us harm.”
“Felix!” Her father’s gloomy tone stunned her.
“I’ve known it for days.” He shook his head and added, “You’ll have to cancel my first appointment.”
“What? I can’t. It’s too late.”
“Then you’ll have to offer my apologies and a refund.”
“What’s going on?” she asked. Her father had never made a last-minute cancellation before.