Midnight Masquerade

by Nancy Gideon

  Once the water stopped pelting down and the steam settled, there were the two them, dripping and mostly undressed in the tub. And Nick still in his socks.

  He stepped out, slipping slightly as he groped for the stack of towels. Swiping one over his face and damp hair, he let it lay about his shoulders as he assisted his guest from the tub.

  She was Venus arising from a tile shell, her toned body glistening, naked perfection. He swaddled her in his bulky white robe, pulling the hood up over her wet head, buffing and blotting because he couldn't stop touching her.

  And then her clever fingers hooked themselves through his belt loops, coaxing him up against her.

  What was a man to do?

  As her arms lifted to circle his neck, he cupped her deliciously taut bottom and picked her up. Long legs knit together behind his back. He almost walked them into a wall as she bent to kiss his mouth, his nose, his brow, his ear—where she lingered to elicit a mighty moan as her tongue charted the inner whorls.

  He stumbled in a blind desperation toward the bed.

  She hit the smooth surface with a bounce, pulling him over her. His open mouth dropped down on hers with a claiming certainty, and for a long moment they held a voracious dueling contest with their tongues. He let her win. There was something to be said for being a gracious loser. She tasted him, tempted him with light nibbles to his lower lip and chin, then sent his world spinning as the tip of her tongue danced across his tightly closed eyelids.

  Then as she sucked at his earlobe, she whispered, “There's something we need to get out of the way first."

  Damn.

  She was going to talk about money.

  He wouldn't have believed anything short of a nuclear attack could wither his rampant interest, but that did. He'd forgotten whom he'd brought to his room, to his bed. Her company didn't come free of charge.

  No matter what he'd dared hope.

  He eased off her, wondering where he'd left his wallet, when she snagged his belt buckle, undid it and yanked leather through the loops with an expectant zing. And that was followed by the rough purr of his zipper going down.

  "You're all wet,” was her only comment as she pushed his trousers and jockeys down.

  She'd been talking about his wet clothes.

  Momentum surged once more as he wriggled out of his sodden pants and sent his soggy socks flying. He sank back down on her luscious form.

  "That better?"

  "Mmmmm. Yes.” And she wiggled within the confines of the robe, parting her knees so he could sink in more satisfactorily. The scrub of her palms quickly warmed the chilled flesh of his butt. The rest of him didn't need warming. He was on fire. She was gently biting his shoulder. He moved against her cleft, letting her know that he was hard enough to crack cement. She murmured in response, her hands gripping his buns to increase the pressure. A pressure that was going to blow sky high like a newly tapped vein of crude jetting out of the ground.

  No time for finesse. He reached for the night stand, jerking the drawer out in his haste. The contents spewed on top of the coverlet, giving him access to the one thing he sought. Triumphantly, he brought the packet up to tear it open with his teeth. Perhaps a little too vigorously.

  The both of them stared at the mangled rubber.

  Nick's gaze darted to the bedspread where most of his worldly goods were scattered next to the Gideon Bible. Change, his keys, a comb, his phone card, breath mints ... everything except a replacement for the damaged prophylactic dangling impotently from his hand.

  "Sonuvabitch."

  He was on empty. At least in the protective sense.

  He stared down into her gorgeous, flushed face, stammering apologetically.

  "I'll just be a minute. There's a gift shop downstairs."

  "Nick."

  The soft purr of his name short-circuited his runaway train of thoughts.

  "I'm not going to give you anything you don't want. Can you say the same?"

  "I'm—Yes. I'm fine. I mean I'm clean."

  Her well-kissed lips pursed into a naughty smile. “After our shower, I would hope so. I want you inside me, Nick. Now, please."

  With a sweep of his arm, the drawer, the change, the useless condom and all the rest clattered to the floor.

  A long juicy kiss got things moving in the right direction once again. From there, Nick moved downward, parting the robe and giving his full attention to her breasts for the first time. Ripe, full, glorious. Her nipples had softened into coral-colored circles the size of fifty-cent pieces. He watched, fascinated, as the featherlight brush of his thumbs puckered them up into tiny distended volcanos of response no bigger than a dime. A sucker for geology, he lowered his head.

  At the first sweet pull of his lips, Rae arched and grabbed frantically at his head, her fingers anchoring in the short dark hair just in case he thought of moving any time soon. Heat flooded in molten waves to the hard little nubs and lower, to where his unrestrained sex furrowed impatiently against her belly and the nest of reddish curls below. The fingers that weren't taunting her other nipple into new heights of sensation slid down between their bodies, seeking that slight mound where passion began to coalesce. He lifted slightly so his middle finger could glide like a heat-guided missile between moist folds to sink into ground zero with explosive results. Her hips bucked, twisting and grinding upward against the heel of his hand in an effort to appease the restless energy centering into a fiery pool.

  He played her body with a master's respect for an exquisite instrument. Increasing the pull of his mouth and fingers upon the throbbing peaks of her breasts, he created soul-shaking music upon her nerve endings with each slow draw and inevitable return. She squeezed the walls of her body around him, trying to hold him there, to pull him in farther as seismic shivers began to quake along her thighs. She clenched them, locking her ankles in a effort to still their trembling. But as his palm moved in a tight rotation, never lessening the pressure, the epicenter burst, sending wave after wave of pleasure rumbling through her.

  He lifted up to see passion infuse her features like a sunrise. Her eyes were tightly shut, but when his rigid sex replaced his finger in one deep, filling stroke, her gaze popped wide open to fix upon his in an unfocused daze of surprise and delight. Hot green seas a man could drown in.

  Rae said his name, or she thought she did, in a low, urgent guttural. The fierce driving force of him kept chasing the thrill of her release higher, higher, until the breaths expelled with each smack of their bellies became a soft, desperate keening. Too much, too much. The intensity built, thickening, growing hotter, finally snapping to free tremors of unbelievable strength and longevity. The Big One, seismically speaking. Powerful enough to crumble and crash the last of her inhibitions. He swallowed her unrestrained shout with his devouring kiss then was swallowed up himself by the sweet violence of her San Andreas-sized response.

  He groaned into her mouth, drenching the fires inside her with the sudden gush of his own reward.

  As with any aftermath of an earth-rending event, a complete stillness followed. In that long evaluating moment, their ragged breathing slowed. The tension in their bodies transformed into a heavy lethargy, defying movement, forbidding thought as they recuperated from the stunning magnitude of what they'd just survived.

  "Wow,” Nick managed to summarize at last as he got his elbows under him to lever up.

  "You bet wow,” Rae echoed while wondering if the tiny shivers would ever quiet along her limbs. She felt ridiculously weak and vulnerable. And satisfied as hell. As the pad of his thumb sketched along her jaw, dampness sprang to her eyes, wobbling embarrassingly on the tips of her lashes. She tried ineffectually to blink them away, then he was kissing them away with the devastatingly gentle sweep of his lips. And she went to pieces all over again.

  Good God, girl, get it together. It's not like you've never had sex before.

  Not like this, came the seditious reply. Not with a man like this.

  With a man she wasn't
supposed to care about. With a man she was supposed to use heartlessly for her own purpose.

  With a man who had her emotions in such a scramble of need and want and necessity, she just wanted to hang on tight and never let go.

  She was a mess.

  And she was crazy about him.

  What was she going to do now?

  Sleep wasn't the right answer, but it was what she settled for within the comforting and way too comfortable curl of Nick's embrace. She stirred drowsily when he got out of bed some time later, probably to latch the door and turn out the lights. Through slitted lids she watched him standing in the doorway for a long moment as if wrestling with some great indecision. Was this where he shook her, tossed her her clothes and said, “Thanks for the memory, baby"?

  Maybe it would be easier if he did, instead of coming back into the room to pull the sheet up over her then slid under it himself.

  She felt the heat of his lips against her brow. His arm skimmed the dip at her waist to curve along her spine, drawing her up to fit within the intriguingly firm highs and lows of his own form. And just when she thought that maybe she wouldn't be so adverse to another round of spectacular physicality, he tucked her head beneath his chin with his other hand and whispered, “Sweet dreams, lover.” She rode out his big, well pleased sigh.

  Now, she was wide awake and listening in an agony of guilt and forbidden fascination to the gradual deepening of his breaths into slumber.

  Lord, how she wanted to lie right there all night, studying the pattern of his inhalations, steeped in the cocooning warmth of his nearness, to wake with him at dawn for coffee and conversation and perhaps more of that spectacular physical stuff.

  But if she stayed, her job would be only that much harder.

  As if it was simple now.

  Carefully, she unwound herself from the tangle of his nicely furred arms and legs and escaped the room without a backward glance. Seeing him asleep and tousled on the sheets they'd so thoroughly rumpled would be too much like torture.

  As quietly as she could, she rounded up her clothing then dressed in the dark of the living room where the security lights from outside provided just enough visibility to find what went where.

  And as she wriggled into her jacket, the presence of a crinkly wad tucked into her sleeve gave her a moment's pause.

  What the-

  Unable to give more time or risk turning on a lamp to satisfy her curiosity, she had to settle for the cool, clinical brightness of the hallway as she trotted for the elevator carrying her shoes.

  She glanced down at the paper crumpled in her hand and stubbed her toe.

  Cash.

  Hundreds.

  Five of them.

  Chapter

  Seven

  "Give you a ride?"

  She was almost too angry to be surprised at the sight of Gabriel McGraw sitting cross-legged on the hood of his bulky black hot rod.

  She started to breeze right past him when a question came to mind. She confronted him, arms akimbo.

  "What are you doing here? Spying through keyholes?"

  His gaze gave her a slow once over. “My guess is I missed a good show. And here I was beginning to fear you'd burrowed in for the night."

  "Hookers don't spend the night."

  He frowned slightly at the harsh crack of her voice. “He bought it, then?"

  She fanned the bills for his inspection. “Bought and paid damn well for it."

  For a moment, he stared at her, his youthful expression a strange mixture of awe and regret. Then he slid off the car with a gruff, “No one said you had to—"

  She cut him off with a wave of her hand ... the one not holding the money a man had paid for the pleasure of having sex with her. “Let's just get the hell out of here, okay?"

  He opened the door for her then wordlessly shut it once she'd tucked her long legs inside. The engine growled to life, and she didn't start feeling sick to her stomach until after they'd wheeled out onto one of the narrow side streets.

  "Stop."

  Gabriel glanced at her in alarm. “What?"

  "Pull over at that corner."

  He obeyed then waited with motor running while she hopped out of the car.

  A street person hunkered down on a camp stool beneath the weak pooling of a street light. He was so ragged and forlorn, he could have doubled for Emmett Kelly's sad clown. Leaning up against the rock wall beside him was a sign. Innocuous against the opulent backdrop of the hotel, the crudely lettered words entreated, “Help me feed my kids."

  Vacant, hopeless eyes lifted when he heard her step. He lurched forward, expecting to be chased off the corner and into the shadows where no one had to be confronted with the tragedy he represented.

  "Don't be afraid,” she said quietly as she reached out to cram the currency into the faded Senators cap he had sitting like an offering bowl on the sidewalk beside him. “Go home and take care of your family."

  She darted back to the car while he examined the bounty so unexpectedly thrust upon him.

  And as Gabriel angled back into traffic, Rae heard a tear-filled voice cry out, “God bless you!"

  I doubt it.

  "Now what?"

  She didn't look at the driver when she replied.

  "Now we dangle the bait and get ready to set the hook."

  * * * *

  Nick really didn't expect to find her there when his alarm went off at 5:30. But it would have been nice.

  Wearily, but with just enough of that euphoria remaining to get him up and moving, he performed his morning rituals, grateful he didn't have to apply any actual thought to what he was doing. Going through the motions. That's what he'd been doing since he got here.

  Until last night.

  Those motions were indelibly inscribed upon his soul.

  While his two cups of coffee for the road grumbled and groaned their way into the pot, Nick leaned upon the breakfast bar studying the paper in his hand.

  Like a spy while she'd languished in his bed, he'd clenched a penlight between his teeth while he scribbled all that he could on the only available piece of paper he could find-his dry cleaning receipt. And then stealthily he'd replaced her driver's licence before it would be missed.

  "Rae Borden,” he said aloud, liking the sound of it, liking the feeling of familiarity and connection it gave him.

  He would see her again.

  * * * *

  She was getting soft.

  A week had passed since Ginny's funeral, and she'd done zip in the way of physical exercise. Well, not exactly zip.

  Fiercely, she sent her fist flying into the bag.

  In Detroit, she started her day with a five mile run. Under Bette Grover's roof, she started off with a fifteen hundred calorie breakfast, and she was beginning to feel it.

  She wished she didn't feel anything else.

  She sent a furious combination into the barely yielding bag and followed up with a couple of hard kicks that sent a punishing numbness down her leg. She shook it off and continued the work out until her heart rate could jump start a fighter jet. Jab after jab, imagining the smug features of Kaz Zanlos exploding upon impact.

  "Hey,” Gabriel called out, anchoring the bag as it swung from the viciousness of her blows, “What did it ever do to you?"

  "Got in my way, McGraw. It got in my way."

  "I'll make sure I always give you plenty of space.” Then he swayed with a mean one-two. “Keep your elbow up."

  "Oh, an expert are you?"

  "If you read my file, and I'm sure you have by now, you know that I'm division champion."

  "Then let's go a few rounds, just for fun."

  "Fun, huh?"

  "Unless you're afraid of a girl.” She grinned in challenge, goading him with a few halfhearted taps to his pretty face.

  "You got it, girlie. Let me get some gloves on."

  Rae continued to bounce lightly as she watched him tie on the gloves. He was a good-looking kid, and when he dressed down from his
glam-punk attire to gym trunks and tank top, he looked positively lethal.

  "I thought you were moving on a plan tonight,” he said as he reached for protective headgear.

  "I am.” She gestured to the padded helmet. “That's for sissies."

  "Yeah?” He grinned and tossed it aside. “Let's see what you got, girl."

  They toed off within the elevated ring, drawing the attention of the few single cops who were getting their adrenaline pumped before the late shift. It wasn't much of a gym, not like the swank health club Bette Grover had a membership to. It was ragged, worn and smelled of old sweat socks and BenGay. And it was just what Rae had been looking for when she'd asked the nicely cut Gabriel where he worked out.

  They touched gloves, and she sent Gabriel skipping back with an immediate jab. He laughed but at least he was taking her seriously now. They sparred lightly for a few minutes, weaving and exchanging taps.

  "You're good, McGraw."

  "Lots of time to practice."

  She didn't have time to ask him to explain as she feinted away from his right hook.

  "You're not so bad, yourself."

  "For a girl.” She landed a tight pop to his midsection eliciting a surprised, “Oof!."

  Gabriel backpedaled, rubbing his gut. “For a contender, Sugar Rae."

  Now that he wasn't underestimating her, their contest escalated in intensity. Blocks and dodges became self-preserving necessity, and the select punches that managed to get through were definitely not for sissies. Gabriel was grinning around his mouth guard as he took her best and came back for more. He had great moves, so silky and swift. Now you see him, now you don't. Even as his blocked punches knocked her back, she sensed he was holding himself in, being careful about the amount of power he packed with each throw from close to the body. On occasion, she wondered if his feet even touched the floor as he glided away from certain impact. She remembered his disappearing act in the alley.

  Just how good was this guy?

  Then she saw it coming, a beautiful, right-from-the-shoulder jab. Just what she'd been waiting for. She took a breath, let her hands drop slightly and stepped into it. Pain exploded through her face. She met the canvas with her world rocking and rolling. For a minute, everything was black then spinning in pin dots of color.