by BETH KERY
“Yeah. When you get yourself into a zone, it’s like you start to move to the beat of the universe or something. When you dance, it’s like you’re giving yourself up to it. It’s incredible to see. I still can’t get over the fact that you didn’t do it regularly. I mean . . . I’m glad no one else has seen you like that.” He brushed his fingertip across her temple and she saw his small smile. “I’m ecstatic about it, actually. I want you all to myself. But that doesn’t negate the fact that you look like you were born to dance. Made to drive me nuts,” he added under his breath.
Her lips parted in wonder.
“I’m sorry we missed the reading events last week,” she whispered.
“Me too.” His finger traced the line of her jaw. “But maybe this way, I can talk you into reading the rest of Pride and Prejudice to me.”
She smiled. “Only if you read Born to Submit to me.”
His eyebrows arched. “It’s a deal.”
She chuckled, but a flash of heat went through her at the idea of hearing Xander and Katya’s sexy trysts told in Trey’s deep, compelling voice. “I had something planned, for that night you came to the museum . . . the night when we ended up at the hospital.”
“What?” he asked, still stroking her jaw with his fingertip.
She hesitated only for a second before she stood. “I’ll show you. You stay here. Lean back on the pillows and get comfortable.”
—
A few minutes later, she hit a button on the stereo and the sounds of Trey’s fluid, melodic finger work on the guitar filled the entire condo. She loved this particular piece. It’d made her ache again and again during the time period when she didn’t see him. Nevertheless, it hadn’t stopped her from listening to it more times than she could count.
Her heart raced madly by the time she walked down the hallway. She’d changed into a clinging, revealing negligee and matching robe. She wore her favorite shoes for dancing.
And the panties.
You’re really going to do this. Finally. You’re going to expose yourself to him, and he’s going to be right there.
She was going to strip, just feet away from him. She was going to seduce him . . . and she was going to give him the control. It was a challenge for her, an ultimate act of intimacy. But it was Trey, and it was a challenge she was ready to meet.
When she entered the guest bedroom a moment later, she saw that he reclined at the head of the bed, his shoes off, propped up against the pillows. She didn’t turn on the light. There was enough illumination from the city lights to make each other out in the darkness.
She walked around the bed and stretched out her hand to him, the sounds of his strong, fluid fingers on the guitar strings rippling and pulsing in the air around them, seducing her.
“Here,” she whispered. “Do what you want with it. Do what you want to me . . . whenever you want it. I trust you.”
She handed him the small remote control for the panties she wore. She’d barely registered his look of surprise at her words when she spun around, and begun to dance to his music.
EPILOGUE
Four months later
Eleanor arrived at Trey’s office a few minutes past five. She barely had had time to exchange a few words with Theresa, his admin, before he came out of his office, his manner striking her as strangely tense.
“We’ve got to go,” he told Eleanor, taking her hand and pulling her away from Theresa’s desk. “See you later, Theresa.”
Eleanor rolled her eyes at Theresa. “Apparently, we’re late for this mystery event,” she said, rushing to keep up with Trey’s long-legged stride. Theresa just grinned broadly, waving at Eleanor.
“You told Theresa, didn’t you?” Eleanor said as they waited for the elevator, hand in hand. There’d been something knowing about Theresa’s smile just now.
“Told her what?” Trey asked, deadpan.
“Whatever the mystery is,” Eleanor said, reaching to straighten his tie. It was a likely excuse to touch him. He looked fantastic, wearing a dark blue suit, a blue and silver striped tie and a white shirt that set off the golden brown tan he’d acquired in a recent trip they’d taken to Fiji. The primal urge she’d had since the first day she saw him up close in the coffee shop to bite him all over had only gotten stronger in the past several months. Sometimes, Eleanor wondered humorously if there was such a thing as sexual cannibalism. She restrained herself from nibbling on him now with effort.
“I think my mother knows the mystery too. You must be blabbing about it to all the women in your life, aside from me.”
The elevator door opened and Trey hurried her inside the car.
“What is it?” she couldn’t help but prod him, her curiosity mounting by the second due to his tense, preoccupied mood. “Are you going to whisk me off to London for another surprise concert? Or is it dinner with another celebrity? I hope they like Italian food. I’m starving,” she said, rubbing her hollow stomach. “I worked straight through lunch on the Authors of Illinois exhibit.”
“It’s not anything half so fancy as that. But there’ll be food.”
“Well, that’s fine with me. I’m not in the mood for celebrity schmoozing anyway. I don’t want anything fancy tonight. Trey, why are you frowning?” she asked suddenly when a shadow crossed his face.
“Nothing. I just hope this—”
He cut himself off suddenly, and Eleanor was only cast further at sea. What had him in such a wired, weird mood?
They left his office building and walked out onto a glorious early spring evening. The weather matched her mood. She knew it was corny to think it, but her mood was almost always sunny and bright, ever since Trey had become a permanent part of her world. Yes, she still experienced some black moments when she acutely missed Caddy. But that was only natural, and she’d learned to feel her grief, to move through it instead of fighting it.
For the most part, she felt like every day was a fresh new adventure. Life had taken on a golden sheen, and she owed it all to the dynamic, sexy . . . brooding man next to her.
What was up with him, anyway?
“Where are we going?” Eleanor wondered, straining to keep up with him as they turned down Madison Avenue and walked toward the bridge. She was starting to get used to the amazing surprises life with Trey Riordan offered: jetting off to London or Paris for a work engagement that typically involved meeting amazing artists and watching them perform, or him surprising her with thoughtful gifts for no particular reason, like a rare first-edition copy of Pride and Prejudice, a beautiful gold and pearl necklace, and even—her favorite—a pair of genuine fur fans that Sally Rand herself had owned and used for her dances. They’d already put those to very good use.
“You’ll see where we’re going soon enough,” Trey muttered, pulling her along. He led her down a flight of stairs.
“Isn’t this the entrance to the water taxi? Are the water taxis even running yet?” she asked him.
“They technically don’t start until tomorrow,” he said. A bright yellow water taxi was pulled up next to the quay when they reached it. Eleanor looked at it in amazement.
“Wait . . . isn’t this the one—”
“Yeah. It’s the exact same one we took last November,” Trey said. They approached an older, stocky man, and Trey shook his hand in greeting. “Eleanor, this is Reggie. Reggie, this is the lady I was telling you about.”
“Pleasure to see you again, ma’am,” the man said.
“You were our pilot last November,” Eleanor said, smiling in disbelief and a little embarrassment.
Reggie’s pale blue eyes sparkled beneath the cap he wore. “That’s right. This time, Mr. Riordan is paying me not to go upstairs and oust you, though.” Heat flushed her cheeks at the recollection of what Reggie had interrupted on their last trip. “Come on board. We’re all set to go,” he told Trey.
She followed
Trey up to the enclosed deck. She saw with dawning amazement that a small table had been set up. On it was placed a basket, a vase of wildflowers, a bucket of chilling champagne and two flutes.
“You planned all this?” she asked him when he led her over to the exact same seats where they’d sat last November. She saw his small smile before he turned and began filling the flutes with champagne.
“It wasn’t easy, hunting down our pilot and talking him into this,” he said as he poured the champagne. “But at least because of the trouble we gave him, he remembered us,” he added, humor glinting in his eyes as he handed her a champagne glass and sat down next to her. She laughed softly, feeling so full. So happy. The taxi left the quay, easing out on the river. The view rolled slowly past them, but she only had eyes for him.
“You know, for someone who claimed he didn’t know the first thing about romance when we met, you sure are an expert at it now,” she said, taking a sip of champagne.
He leaned back next to her, his blue eyes flashing with humor and heat. “You really think so?”
She glanced out at the stunning scenery, and the flowers, and the champagne . . . and him, her heart in her eyes.
“Here’s to miracles happening, then,” he said, leaning close so that she inhaled his delicious scent. He kissed her, his mouth coaxing and firm. Bold. Sweet. Her eyelids fluttered closed. She’d never get tired of his kisses. They melted her every time.
He lifted his mouth a moment later, but she kept her eyes closed, still pleasantly warm and dizzy from his kiss. Something cool and hard pressed against her mouth. She lifted heavy eyelids.
Her heart jumped in disbelief. The hair on her forearms stood on end. He was stroking her lower lip softly with a diamond ring. His eyes gleamed with heat as he looked down at her.
“You’re the only woman who could turn me into a romantic, Eleanor. I was a hopeless case before you came along. I can’t ever let you go. It’d be the ruin of me, romantically speaking. Well, pretty much all around, come to think of it.”
Her mouth trembled beneath the large, caressing diamond. Her eyes stung.
“Do you know that every day when I wake up since you’ve come into my life, I feel like I’m the luckiest woman alive?” she asked softly. “When I first saw you, you were this unbelievable, unobtainable fantasy.”
“And now the fantasy is wearing thin?” he asked dryly.
“No. It’s gotten even more wonderful. You really are my fantasy man. It’s just that the fantasy is exponentially better in reality. I love you, Trey.”
“I love you too. So much. I still can’t believe it, but it keeps growing stronger. Deeper.”
“I know,” she agreed.
“Does this mean you’ll marry me?” he asked her gruffly.
“Well I can’t have you ruined. Romantically speaking or otherwise. Can I?” she asked him quietly.
She saw his quick, flashing smile. She felt the cool metal slip against her finger, and then Trey was kissing her. The water taxi’s horn pealed and it echoed off the tunnel of the skyscrapers. To Eleanor, it sounded like the joyful shout of her heart.
KEEP READING FOR AN EXCERPT FROM
MAKE ME
BY BETH KERY
NOW AVAILABLE IN SERIAL FORMAT
FROM INTERMIX
There was something about the Tahoe air that made everything clear and luminous. Not just physical things either, Harper McFadden thought as she jogged down a stretch of beach, the cerulean lake glittering to the left of her. Her perception felt sharper in her new home. She felt a little lighter. The brilliant sun and pure air seemed to penetrate even the murkiest, saddest places of her spirit.
Alive.
That was it. She felt more alive here than she had since her parents’ tragic death last year. Hopefully she was slowly—finally—leaving the shadows of grief behind.
She tensed and pulled up short in her run when a large, dark red dog with white markings began to charge her. She staggered back, dreading the imminent crash. The slashing teeth. “Stay calm around them. Keep your fear boxed up tight. It’ll only make them more aggressive if they sense it.”
The big dog pulled up at the last minute. He started to spin in excited, dopey circles in front of her.
She gave a startled laugh.
“You’re not so scary, are you?” she murmured, reaching down cautiously to pet behind floppy ears. The dog immediately stopped dancing around and lifted his head, eyelids drooping and tongue lolling. Harper laughed and rubbed harder. “No, you’re just a big pushover, aren’t you?”
The dog whimpered blissfully.
Clearly, this particular dog was a cuddly pup with the appearance of a bear. Even so, her limbs still felt a little tingly from anxiety. This was one of the few things she wasn’t so fond of in her new town. People adored their dogs here, to the point that they brought them inside the local stores and even the post office, and no one complained. She’d also noticed Tahoe Shores canines tended to be of the enormous variety. Unlike her former home in the Nob Hill neighborhood of San Francisco, leash laws were largely ignored here.
A figure cast a shadow over her and the dog.
“Sorry about that. He’s like a two-year-old kid with the body of an ox. He doesn’t know his own weight.”
Harper didn’t glance up immediately when the man approached. The thought struck her fleetingly that while his dog was a hyper, quivering beast, his owner’s voice sounded mellow and smooth. Unhurried.
She dropped her hand from the enraptured dog and straightened. His head and shoulders rose above the background of the Sierra Nevada mountains and the setting sun. His dark shadow was cast in a reddish-gold corona. She held up her hand to shield her eyes and squinted. He came into focus. Her hand fell heedlessly to her side.
He was wearing a pair of dark blue swim trunks and nothing else. He’d just come out of the water. The way the trunks molded his body shredded her thoughts. Water gleamed on a lean, powerful torso, gilding him even more than the sun and his bronzed tan already did. His short wet hair was slicked back from a narrow, handsome face. Like her, he squinted as he examined her, even though he was turned away from the sun.
“It was a little intimidating, to be honest,” she managed, gathering herself. He was gorgeous, sure, but she was still a little irritated that he let his gigantic dog roam free. Not everyone thought it was fun to be run down by a hundred-and-fifty-pound animal. People around here really needed to watch over their dogs better. “He was coming at me like a locomotive,” she added.
“This is a private beach. It belongs to a friend of mine.”
Harper blinked at the sudden coolness. It wasn’t just his clipped tone, either. His narrow-eyed gaze was somehow . . . cutting as it moved over her face. It was like being scanned by a laser beam. The thought struck her that whoever this guy was, he regularly left people feeling tongue-tied and about six inches tall.
“I’m sorry,” she said stiffly, standing tall to diminish the shrinking effect of his stare. “I was told by my Realtor that a Tahoe Shores resident could walk or run along the entire lakeshore within the town’s city limits.” She started to walk away from him.
“You misunderstood me.”
“What?” She halted, looking over her shoulder.
Something crossed over his features, there and then gone. Was it frustration?
“You’re right, technically speaking. The beach directly next to the lake is the town’s property, even if we are on my friend’s property at the moment,” he said dryly, nodding at the distance between where they stood and the lake forty or so feet away.
“I’ll get closer to the water, then.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t calling you out for crossing my friend’s beach. He’d be fine with it. You’re welcome anytime.”
“Oh.” She gave a small shrug of bewilderment. She glanced unea
sily at the lovely, sprawling, ultramodern mansion to the left of her, the one that must belong to his friend.
“I was just giving you fair warning. You might have another run in with Charger, or some other dog. Here, Charger.” He calmly held out a large, outspread hand and the dog bounded over to him. She spun fully to face him, unable to hide her smile at the vision of the rambunctious dog hopping up to reach his master’s touch.
“I guess you knew him pretty well when you named him,” she said.
“Yeah. I imagine he even charged out of the womb.”
Charger frisked around a pair of long, strong-looking legs. He was a tall one. Six foot three or four? Her gaze stuck on his crotch.
The wet trunks were revealing. Very. Heat flared in her cheeks.
“He interrupted your pace,” he said.
She jerked her gaze guiltily up to his face. He waved at her jogging attire.
“Oh. It’s okay. I never go that fast, anyway. And I’d just gotten started,” she assured, her breathlessness at odds with her reply. “What breed is he?” Harper asked, nodding at the dog, hoping to distract him from her face. With her coloring, her blushes were annoyingly obvious.
“A Lab-pointer mix. I think, anyway. He didn’t come with any papers. I got him from the local shelter.”
“The Tahoe Shores Animal Shelter is close to the offices of my new job. It’s huge. I heard it was the largest in Nevada.” Maybe that’s why everyone is so dog-crazy around here.
“You work at the Sierra Tahoe Gazette?” he asked. He noticed her surprised glance. He gave a small shrug. Harper experienced a stirring deep inside her, and realized it came from that small, sexy . . . yet somehow shy smile. But that couldn’t be right. How could a man as cold and imperious as he’d seemed just seconds ago come off as shy?
“This is a small town. The Gazette’s office is the only building close to the shelter . . . besides the North Shore Fire Department.” His gaze dropped over her slowly, and that flickering of her body swelled to a steady, pleasurable flame. “Although you are in good shape. Are you a firefighter?”