White Lies

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “No, I didn’t.” He made his way slowly toward her, cruising with the grace of a sea serpent. “I would have remembered a stupid promise like that. You ordered me not to look. Different matter entirely.”

  “You really can see in the dark, can’t you?”

  “I’m a hunter. Goes with the territory. Don’t worry, you looked beautiful getting into the water. Think Botticelli’s Birth of Venus.”

  She smiled wryly. “Except I’m not a redhead.”

  “I noticed. Fine by me.” He swam closer. “I like the dark, sultry, mysterious, exotic type better anyway.”

  Was that really how he saw her? she wondered. She had never considered herself any of those things. Okay, dark-haired, yes. But sultry, mysterious and exotic?

  “You were right,” she said, sweeping her hands lazily back and forth beneath the surface. “This does feel good.”

  “Especially after dark.” He stopped a short distance away and stood chest deep in the water.

  “Do you always swim at night?” she asked.

  “My favorite time.”

  “I can’t remember ever swimming in the moonlight,” she said. She was unable to take her eyes off his looming silhouette. “It’s a very unusual experience.”

  “So is this,” he said.

  His hands closed around her bare shoulders. He drew her up out of the water and against his chest. When his mouth came down on hers there was an inevitability about the kiss that thrilled her senses.

  She had known this was going to happen when she got into the pool, she thought. And she was pretty sure he had known it, too.

  Nevertheless, the fierce urgency that slammed through her took her breath. She wanted Jake. She needed him tonight. She yearned to abandon herself to the sheer physical sensation of being held close and tight and hard by this man.

  The vibrant force of her own desire caught her off guard. She could feel Jake’s hunger, as well. The combination was electrifying.

  No one had ever affected her senses like this. Or maybe she had never allowed anyone to have this effect on her. Blame the trust issues, she thought. But her natural defenses had come down with a vengeance tonight. She was not afraid to make a leap in the dark.

  She heard herself give a soft, hoarse cry. The small sound was muffled by Jake’s mouth. He groaned, flattened one hand on the base of her spine and forced her hips against his own.

  She wasn’t the only one who was not wearing a swimsuit, she discovered.

  He was heavily aroused. It gave her a glorious satisfaction to know that she was the cause. His erection pressed against her, rigid, demanding. She reached below the surface of the water and circled him with her fingers.

  “Talk about larger than life,” she whispered. She squeezed gently.

  He inhaled sharply and raised his mouth an inch from hers. “It’s been a while,” he warned. “Don’t think I can take much foreplay tonight.”

  “Tell me when to stop.” She stroked him more firmly.

  He gave a low, sexy growl of a laugh. “Don’t hold your breath.”

  He bent his head and kissed the hollow of her shoulder. His fingertips slid between the cleft of her buttocks and then moved around the curve of her hips. He found the tight, urgent place between her legs and probed slowly. A delicious ache flowered inside her. She leaned into him.

  “Jake.”

  “Are you going to have second thoughts in the morning?” he asked softly. “Because if so, I’d really appreciate it if you’d tell me now.”

  “No second thoughts,” she said. She kissed his chest. “Not about tonight.”

  He scooped her up in his arms and carried her through the water to the steps. The night air felt cool after the warmth of the pool. She shivered a little.

  He stood her on her feet and bundled her into her robe. When he left her to cross through the moonlight to pick up a towel she saw him briefly silhouetted in full profile. There was something profoundly compelling about the sight of his aroused body.

  He wrapped the towel around his waist and came back for her. When he lifted her up into his arms again she thought about telling him that she was quite capable of walking to the bedroom. She kept her mouth shut. It was a lot more fun to be carried off into the night. For once it didn’t matter that a man was making all the decisions. For the first time in her life she wanted to surrender to the experience.

  He carried her through the open slider of his own bedroom. In the moonlight she could see that the bed was badly rumpled. The light blanket had been kicked partway off onto the carpet. The sheet was twisted and the pillow was dented in several places. Jake’s sleep had been restless, she realized. That was probably what had driven him outdoors to swim.

  She wondered what kind of thoughts kept a man like Jake Salter awake at night.

  He opened a drawer in the nightstand and took out a small packet. He had the condom on with a couple of quick, efficient moves. Then he was on the bed, gathering her in his arms.

  The robe fell away. Jake loomed over her, caging her between his arms. He kissed her again, on her mouth, her throat, her breasts. He moved down the length of her body, raised her knees and found the tight, hard button between her legs with his tongue.

  Alarm shot through her.

  “Wait.” She levered herself up on both elbows. “That’s not my thing. I’ve never let anyone—” She broke off, floundering, feeling suddenly frantic.

  He raised his head briefly. “Why not?”

  She could not believe he was asking questions. “This is hardly the time for an extended discussion of the subject.”

  “Can’t think of a better time, can you?”

  “All right,” she snapped, exasperated. “It’s too personal. Too intimate. There. Satisfied?”

  “No. Ever tried it?”

  “No.”

  “Then you’re not speaking from experience. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  He lowered his mouth to her again.

  She clawed at the bedding with both hands, instinctively trying to retreat from the sheer intensity of the sensation. She found herself trapped when she came up hard against the head of the bed. Jake gripped her buttocks, sinking his fingers into her in order to hold her still.

  “You taste so good I could eat you alive.” He kissed the inside of her thigh. “Trust me, here.”

  And suddenly there was nothing she wanted to do more in the entire world.

  “Jake.”

  She heard a low, sexy laugh.

  “There’s an old saying that suits this situation,” Jake said, tightening his grip on her. “Something along the lines of ‘Lie back and enjoy it.’”

  “Why, you macho, arrogant son of a—”

  Outraged, she fisted her hands in his hair, intending to push him away. Somehow she accidentally pulled him closer.

  “Open up all of your senses,” he whispered. “Run hot for me.”

  That was one risk she did not want to take tonight, she thought. She could not bear to discover that he was not as enthralled as she was by the passion that had flared between them.

  He eased his thumbs into her, pressing upward, finding the perfect spot just inside. At the same time, his tongue stroked the sensitive bud.

  She was suddenly clenched so tightly she had nothing left for the battle. She did the only thing she could do under the circumstances. She surrendered.

  The climax rolled through her, sweeping away the last of her control. All her senses flashed into full awareness. Power danced in the shadows around her; hers and Jake’s. She realized dimly that he was running wide open, too.

  Her heels dug into the mattress. She heard a high, exultant shriek. She was screaming. She never screamed in bed. Then again, she had never had an orgasm with a man, either.

  Jake moved swiftly up her body and sank deep inside her with a long, heavy thrust.

  But she was impossibly sensitive now and he was much bigger than any of the handful of men she had gone to bed with in the past. Th
e result was an overwhelming storm of sensation.

  A second series of small shock waves reverberated through her. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his hips.

  “Yes,” Jake muttered against her mouth. “Just like that. Tight and hot.”

  The muscles of his back went rigid beneath her palms. His skin was damp, not from the pool water; from perspiration. He drove himself into her again and again, hard and fast.

  Seconds later his release slammed through him. She felt every wave.

  When it was finally over he collapsed on top of her, pinning her to the bed with the weight of his utterly relaxed body.

  “Knew it was going to be like that,” he said into the pillow beside her.

  He was telling the truth.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Jake finally gave up trying to ignore the pushing and prodding. He roused reluctantly, opened his eyes and levered himself up onto his elbows. The sight of Clare sprawled beneath him, her hair a tangled cloud, her face still flushed, filled him with a bone-deep satisfaction.

  “What?” he asked, lazily kissing her nose. “I’m trying to get some sleep here.”

  “I noticed. But I want to get up.”

  “So? Get up.”

  “I can’t. You’re on top of me.”

  He looked down at her breasts. “Huh. You’re right.”

  “Off.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  He flopped onto his back, folded one arm behind his head and admired the sweet, full globes of her rear as she disappeared into the bathroom.

  “You know, you have a really terrific butt,” he called after her.

  There was a short, startled silence from inside the bath.

  “Gosh, thanks,” Clare said eventually. “Yours isn’t bad, either.”

  He grinned, too relaxed to move. “I can’t believe you’ve never gone skinny-dipping until tonight.”

  Clare reappeared, enveloped in his robe. Probably because hers was still damp, he decided. He smiled at the sight. She looked like she belonged to him, he thought.

  She watched him steadily for a moment, thoughtful and sultry.

  “I can’t believe I let you do what you did to me,” she said finally. “And swimming naked was the least of it.”

  He rolled off the bed and started toward her. “Let’s get something straight here, lady. You didn’t let me do anything. I had to fight you every inch of the way, remember? We even had an extended debate at one point.”

  “Yes, we did, didn’t we?” She tipped her head slightly to one side. “I think I lost.”

  He stopped directly in front of her and planted both hands against the wall on either side of her head. “You were just overcome by my irrefutable logic.”

  “That’s right. I remember now. Your brilliant arguments consisted of ‘trust me’ and ‘lie back and enjoy it.’ How could I have failed to be swayed by that kind of snappy logic?”

  He smiled slowly. “So, was it good for you?”

  She studied him for a moment with an unreadable expression. “If I tell you that this is the first time in my life that I have never had to fake an orgasm, will you become insufferably egotistical?”

  “No, honest.” He took one hand off the wall long enough to cross his heart. “I will be proud, of course, but very, very humble.”

  “Gee. Why does that statement lack the ring of truth?”

  “Probably because I am lying through my teeth. You know, it’s downright scary to think that if I hadn’t come along, you might have spent the rest of your life never knowing the joys of sex with me.”

  “Think maybe I should get down on my knees and thank you at some point in the near future?” she asked with perfect innocence.

  “Oh, wow,” he breathed reverently. “The image that comes to mind is enough to make me feel a trifle faint.”

  She punched him lightly in the ribs. “You keep forgetting you’re talking to someone who always knows when you’re fibbing.”

  He laughed. “Want to know what really scares the hell out of me?”

  “What?”

  “The thought of never having met you.”

  “Is this your way of saying that it was good for you, too?”

  “The best,” he said simply.

  He was telling the truth again. She was flabbergasted. She reminded herself that at that particular moment, awash in postcoital afterglow, he might actually believe what he had just said, in which case it was the truth. But only for tonight.

  People always assumed that the truth was never as complicated as a lie. They were wrong.

  He straightened and walked into the bathroom. “Now that we’ve got that settled, let’s get back to your suggestion.”

  “What suggestion?” she asked from the doorway.

  He turned on the faucet. “I’m not sure of all the details, but I believe it involved getting down on your knees to thank me personally for the best orgasm of your life.”

  “It’s kind of late. I wouldn’t dream of keeping you up past your bedtime.”

  “Not a problem. I’m already up.”

  She looked down at his heavily aroused body.

  “Yes,” she said. “I can see that. Well, Mom always told me that good manners are important.”

  “Nice to know that there are still some standards left.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  She felt him leave the bed shortly before dawn. There was the smallest of rustling sounds. A moment later she heard the soft slide of a zipper. The door slid open.

  He had gone outside onto the patio. She wondered if he had left something out there last night: his watch or shoes, perhaps. When he did not return immediately, curiosity got the better of her. She sat up to see what he was doing.

  The curtains were open. From the bed she had a clear view of the pool and the wrought-iron fence beyond. Jake had opened the gate. He stood at the edge of the patio, looking out at the rolling desert landscape. The calm, alert stillness of his stance told her that he was watching something very intently.

  She rose from the bed and pulled on his robe. Tying the sash, she crossed the room and stepped outside onto the patio.

  The exhilaration of the predawn atmosphere struck her full force. The sweet scents, the perfect temperature with the promise of the heat to come, the exotic light, all combined to give her an odd, thrilling rush of awareness.

  Halfway across the patio she saw the first coyote. It was a few yards from where Jake stood, watching her with an unwavering gaze. After a few seconds she saw the second and then the third. The trio regarded her for a long moment, and then, evidently concluding she was not a problem, they went back to prowling the underbrush.

  She came to a halt beside Jake. He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her against his side.

  “What’s going on out here?” she whispered.

  “Those three are hunting breakfast.”

  She winced. “I hope they don’t find it while I’m standing here watching. Something tells me they don’t eat a lot of soy burgers.”

  “At this hour they’re probably after rabbits.”

  “What about you? Staking out your territory? Marking your boundaries?”

  “In a way.”

  “It better not involve peeing on the fence. I don’t mind a little back-to-nature stuff, but I’d have to draw the line at that.”

  “Go ahead, take all the fun out of it.”

  She laughed and turned into the curve of his arm. He kissed her there in the light of the desert dawn, sending energy splashing across all her senses.

  When he raised his head at last she could see the exciting heat in his eyes.

  “I didn’t buy you dinner last night,” she said. “So I’ll make breakfast instead.”

  “Works for me.”

  . . .

  He walked into the kitchen some time later, showered and shaved and aware of a hungry anticipation that had nothing to do with food. Clare was at the center island, cracking eggs into a bowl. He could s
ee that she had just come from the shower herself. Her hair was held back in a ponytail. She had on a pair of black pants and a rust-colored T-shirt. Both looked good on her. Both looked familiar.

  He stopped in the doorway, giving himself a chance to enjoy the sight of her in his kitchen.

  She looked up from the eggs, smiling a little shyly. “Hungry?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “I meant for breakfast.”

  “That, too.”

  He went around the counter, picked up the teapot and poured Dragon Well green into a heavy white ceramic mug. He lounged back against the counter and watched Clare work on breakfast. She seemed to have made herself very much at home, he noticed. He liked that.

  Too bad he was going to have to ruin the warm, romantic atmosphere.

  “I’d like to take you up on that offer to make use of your washing machine and dryer after breakfast, if you don’t mind,” she said.

  “No problem.”

  A non-stick frying pan was heating on the stove. Clare put a teaspoonful of Dijon mustard into the egg mixture and added some chopped fresh dill and a large dollop of ricotta.

  “Something I need to ask you,” he said.

  She picked up a wire whisk and went to work on the egg mixture. “Hmm?”

  “Who do you think killed Brad McAllister?”

  She stopped whisking very abruptly. “I told you. I have no idea.”

  “But you’re not buying the interrupted burglary theory, are you?”

  “No. I didn’t buy it six months ago and I really can’t buy it now. Not after what happened to Valerie Shipley.”

  “Got a theory of your own?”

  She concentrated very hard on putting a dab of butter into the hot pan. Then she added the eggs. He could tell she was choosing her words carefully, deciding what and how much to tell him.

  “The truth, Clare,” he said.

  She exhaled slowly. “I don’t know who killed Brad but I’ll tell you one thing.”

  “What?”

  “Until yesterday, I was very grateful to that person.”

  “Because the killer came up with a permanent fix for Elizabeth’s problem?”