“Why?”
“Because I’m a corrupt person.”
She could feel the smile grow on her face. “What makes you think I have the slightest interest in your ethics?”
Striker didn’t say a word.
She boldly reached up and touched his unshaven face. “I’m after your body, Striker, not your soul.”
The doorbell sounded.
“You sure about that?” he asked.
“Positive.”
Then Striker peeled off his sweaty T-shirt.
He was getting in the shower. He wasn’t leaving. Erin’s heart gave a little leap of joy.
“Take off your dress,” he said.
A sexual thrill zipped through her. “Now?”
“I don’t shower unless you shower with me.”
“Another ultimatum?”
“Take it or leave it.”
Erin took it.
She was probably crazy, and she’d probably live to regret this. But at the moment, she just hoped Julie would keep Allan entertained.
She turned around and lifted her hair, so that Striker could unzip her dress.
The zipper rasped softly in her ear as his rough fingertips trailed down the skin of her back.
His hands pushed the straps of her black dress off her shoulders and Erin shivered.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as his warm lips touched the curved of her neck.
“For what?” she breathed, closing her eyes as his tongue touched her flesh.
“Everything I’ve ever done and everything I ever will do to hurt you.”
His sentiment was sweet but totally unnecessary.
She smiled. “You’re not hurting me now.”
He pushed her dress down farther and it slithered to the bathroom floor. “I’m not a nice guy.”
She turned in his arms. “So you’ve said.”
His hand closed over her breast. “I’m just trying to warn you.”
Sparks of desire shot through her chest and she tipped her head up for a kiss. “I’ve been warned.”
“Just so we’re clear,” he whispered as his mouth closed in.
“We’re clear.”
Their lips met and a satisfying wave of passion arced through Erin’s body. She wrapped her arms around his neck, opening her mouth, absorbing the hot, sweet taste of Striker.
He reached behind himself, pushed the bathroom door closed and flipped the lock. Then he pushed off his shorts and her panties and lifted her against him.
Heat shot through the center of her being. She kissed her way along his salty shoulder, burying her face in his neck and inhaling deeply.
He captured her mouth once more, holding her tight, crossing the small room, and turning them both to bring her buttocks to rest on the countertop. It was a cool, smooth counterpoint to the rough heat of Striker’s skin. The shower spray splattered noisily against the glass, and the steam billowed around them, releasing the scents of citrus and wild flowers.
He pulled back slightly, his breath puffing against her face. “Erin?”
She slowly opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry and the room was a haze.
His hand cupped her chin and he held her gaze. “I swear, this has never happened before.” His deep voice tripped along her nervous system.
“You’re a great liar.” She smiled as she leaned forward and kissed him deeply. “Keep it up.”
“But—”
“Shh.” She touched her finger to his lips. “You don’t have to confess to me.”
He drew the finger into his mouth.
A pulse throbbed up her arm as his tongue swirled around her knuckle. “You don’t have to lie to me,” she whispered.
The pulse grew in strength and moved out to engulf her body. “You don’t…have…to…”
He drew her finger out, pausing with his lips against the moist tip. “What do you want me to do?”
Erin’s heartbeat deepened. She wasn’t particularly bold when it came to sex. But as she stared into Striker’s eyes she knew they’d gone past the point of being shy.
She took his hand and placed it on her breast.
He brushed his thumb across one nipple. She moaned and closed her eyes, dropping her head back, pointing to her exposed neck.
He kissed her there, his thumb brushing back and forth, raising goose bumps, making her skin itch in every intimate place.
“What else?” he asked against her neck.
Emboldened by the desire oozing out of her very pores, she took his other hand and slowly tucked it between their bodies.
His breathing rasped in her ear as he touched her heat. He stroked her, stretched her, entered her. He knew exactly what he was doing, and she didn’t even care why.
She thought about asking him what he wanted.
She didn’t know if she dared.
Then she realized it was all or nothing. This magical moment would never come again.
She held up her empty palms, wriggling her fingers. “What about you?”
He grinned against her skin. “Touch me.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere.”
She slowly shook her head. “You don’t tell me, I don’t touch.”
He moved his hand in a way that made her squirm and moan at the same time.
“Ultimatums, Erin?”
“Payback time.”
He chuckled low. “Okay.” He leaned into her ear, whispered in graphic terms just where and how and with which part of her body he wanted to be touched. Then he gave more detail. Then he told her how it would make him feel.
Her body nearly melted into him.
“Now,” she whispered hoarsely. “Right…now.”
He slipped his hand from between them, barely pausing for the condom, and then he was inside her, telling her over and over again how he loved her touch and how wonderful she made him feel.
The steam drenched their bodies. It nearly obliterated the light.
Condensation clung to every surface. And when Erin reached out to grasp something her hand slid down the glass shower door. She managed to grab a towel with the other hand and yanked it from the hanger.
Striker moved faster and harder within her, taking her higher and higher, until she thought she might scream from sheer sensation.
She clenched her jaw, her breath rasping against his ear, holding back the emotion that wanted to escape.
“Let it out,” he said.
She shook her head.
“Yes.”
“Julie…Allan…”
“Won’t hear you.”
She shook her head, and he took her higher.
She grasped his shoulders, digging her fingernails harder and harder into his skin.
“Do it,” he groaned.
She couldn’t. She wasn’t a screamer.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered in her ear. “You feel like satin, wet satin.” His hand slipped between their bodies.
He touched her, and she nearly came off the countertop.
She groaned in his ear.
“That’s it,” he whispered. His fingertip shifted and she gasped his name.
“Let it out, sweetheart.”
She was going to scream. It was building inside her and there was nowhere for it to go.
He thrust inside. He stroked outside. He whispered outrageous compliments and sexy words of encouragement.
And, suddenly it was there, a loud, high involuntary sound that echoed inside her brain as her body convulsed and the world collapsed around her.
He said her name over and over again, squeezing her tight, kissing her cheeks, her temple, her eyelids.
After long minutes of aftershocks, he smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “You okay?”
She tried to get some words to form in what had become the jumble of her brain. She finally gave up and simply nodded.
He held her close and rocked her back and forth.
“Erin, sweetheart. I’m not lying when I say I have never d
one that before.”
STRIKER KNEW he should be feeling guilty. Or at least repentant. At the very least, he shouldn’t be humming as he combed his damp hair and tightened his tie.
He’d failed miserably. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t touch her, considered it a kind of test to prove he actually had a scrap of a moral code inside him.
Looked like he didn’t.
Looked like he was irredeemable.
Looked like his father was right.
Too bad he couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot.
He couldn’t wait to see her again, even with Julie and Allan as chaperones. He wanted to watch her move, hear her talk, inhale her scent.
He quickly shrugged into his jacket and headed for the bedroom door. After their shower, Erin had crept back to her own room to fix her hair and makeup. He hoped she wouldn’t take too long.
He trotted down the stairs to meet Allan and Julie.
They were locked in conversation on the couch. Judging by their absorption in each other’s words, Striker doubted they’d even noticed how long Erin had been gone.
That was good.
He knew she was feeling self-conscious.
“Hey, Allan,” Striker greeted.
Allan and Julie looked up, appearing startled. A slight blush rose in Julie’s cheeks, making Striker wonder what they’d been talking about.
He smiled to himself. Well, well, well.
He gestured to the kitchen door. “I’m under orders to start the salmon. Anybody need a drink or anything?”
“We opened a bottle of the cabernet,” said Allan, raising his glass. “Pour you one?”
“In a few minutes.”
“You need any help in there?” asked Julie.
Striker shook his head. “Chef Striker works alone. You two just…carry on.”
Allan’s eyes twinkled.
Julie blushed.
So Striker had interrupted something. Interesting.
He headed for the kitchen, warmed up the grill and located a suitable saucepan.
Somebody had already made a salad, and there was fresh bread waiting in a covered basket. Erin had told him she planned to pick up a cake from the bakery, so it looked like the salmon was all he needed to worry about.
Just as well, considering it was his one and only specialty.
As he lay the salmon filets on the indoor grill, the door to the kitchen opened. Erin, Julie and Allan joined him.
“Erin didn’t want you to get lonely,” said Allan, pulling out a chair at the table for Julie.
Erin headed for Striker. “Can I do anything?” she asked in a loud voice, coming up close, peering into the pot he was stirring.
Then she whispered low, “Did they look suspicious? Did they say anything?”
“Relax,” Striker whispered back. “They’re ignoring us. I think they like each other.”
Erin peeped over her shoulder to where Julie and Allan sat laughing at the table.
Erin’s black dress hugged her gorgeous curves. Tendrils from her upswept hair curled around her face, barely brushing her smooth shoulders. And her dangling earrings made her look exotic and mysterious.
He couldn’t summon up a single scrap of regret.
“You look stunning,” Striker whispered in her ear.
“Shh,” said Erin.
“It’s not a secret. They can see it, too.”
She elbowed him in the ribs.
He loved having her near, love savoring the memories. He wanted to put his arm around her, kiss her temple, inhale her scent, whisper silly words.
“Erin…” He could hear the longing in his own voice.
“Striker…” Her tone was warning.
“I want you again.”
“Don’t.”
“I can’t help it.”
“I mean don’t talk about it. Not right now.”
His chest tightened. “When?”
“Later.”
“Really?”
She looked up at him, a promise shining in her chocolate eyes. “Later.”
Striker nearly dropped a salmon filet as he tried to flip it over.
Silence suddenly descended into the room.
“I’ll pour you a glass then,” she said in a normal tone.
“Great,” said Striker, picking up a spoon to stir the sauce. Great, great, great!
She moved away to get another wineglass from the cupboard.
As the sauce smoothed and thickened, Striker pulled the fish platter out of the oven where it had been warming. “It’s almost ready,” he announced.
“Table’s already set in the dining room,” said Erin.
Everyone pitched in, picking up wine bottles and dishes of food, while Striker arranged the fish on the platter. Then they all trooped into the dining room. Dinner went smoothly, with conversational topics ranging from politics to movies.
As they finished the chocolate torte, Erin stood up from her chair. “I almost forgot, Allan. I thought you might be interested in this.”
She picked up a catalogue from the side table and set it in front of him. Her voice sounded credibly casual as she spoke. “My boss gave it to me just before I left New York. It’s an advance copy of Elle’s new designs for next year.”
Striker stilled, nervous for Erin as he waited for Allan’s reaction.
Allan looked down at the catalogue, then back up at Erin. He blinked. “You work for Elle?”
Erin nodded, keeping her expression neutral. “We both do. Didn’t we mention that last night?”
Allan shook his head.
He glanced at Julie.
Julie focused on her torte.
“I thought we had,” said Erin.
“I was sure they had,” said Striker.
Allan shot him an incredulous look, clearly wondering why the hell Striker was lying.
Striker tried for a go-along-with-it stare.
Allan’s eyes narrowed. Then he turned back to Erin. “Maybe you did mention it.”
“I thought so,” said Striker, grateful for Allan’s tact, hoping he wouldn’t hold anything against Erin and Julie.
“Why don’t we clear up the dishes,” said Julie, dropping her napkin into her half-finished dessert.
Looking relieved, Erin rose with her. “Take a look through the catalogue,” she said to Allan. “You can take it home if you’d like.”
The two women gathered up a handful of dessert dishes and headed for the kitchen.
Allan sat back, scooping his napkin from his lap and dropping it on the table. “So, how long have you known they were setting me up?”
“Maybe it’s just a coincidence,” Striker suggested.
“Like hell. Two bombshells from Elle Jewelers show up with you? That means I’m a mark.”
“They’re not bombshells.”
Allan arched his eyebrows.
“Well, I mean, of course they’re bombshells. But Erin’s a buyer and Julie’s a gemologist. They’re legit.”
“What happened? Did they con you into this?”
“Not exactly.”
“Are you in on a cut?”
“Of course I’m not in on a cut.”
Allan tipped his chin up. “So, what’ve they got on you?”
A pair of gorgeous brown eyes. “It’s a long story.”
Allan gave a half grin. “One of your usual stories?”
“No. It’s not that.” Well, it was a little bit that. But Erin was different.
“I have to admit,” said Allan. “They’re a hell of an improvement over the last two guys Elle sent.”
“You mean, all this time, a pretty woman was all they needed?”
Allan snorted. “Right. I’m having a hard time believing you went along with this.”
Striker shrugged. “Hey, you’re a big boy. You can take care of yourself.” He grinned. “When’s the last time you made a business decision based on your libido.”
Allan took a sip of his wine. “Never.” Then he smiled. “Of course,
I have to admit, I am enjoying their attempt. Do me a favor. Don’t tell them I’m onto them.”
Striker hesitated. “Why? What are you going to do?”
Allan smiled. “Have another glass of wine and chat with two beautiful women.”
“And the contract?”
Allan shrugged. “I’ll evaluate it on its merits, just like every other contract I’ve ever been offered.”
10
STRIKER’S TIME WAS running out. He was supposed to be at a Reeves-DuCarter shareholders meeting tomorrow, and Erin was on the verge of offering Allan the contract. No matter which way it went for her, their real lives were about to take over. She’d go back to New York and Striker would go back to Seattle.
He tried to curb his impatience as he waited for Julie to go to sleep so he could sneak down the hall to Erin and share their last hours together.
After the sounds in Julie’s room went silent, he forced himself to wait another half hour.
But the minute his self-imposed time restriction was up, he headed for his bedroom door and crept down the hall.
He slowly opened Erin’s door, not sure what to expect. She could be asleep. They hadn’t made any concrete plans, he was just going on the vague, whispered later that had set his blood on fire.
The lights were dim and she was awake. She was standing next to the bed, lighting a small candle. She turned to look at him and blew out the match. The candlelight rose behind her, silhouetting her gorgeous body. She was wearing the lingerie he’d bought for her, and the sight made his mouth go dry.
He soundlessly shut the door.
The curtains billowed with the change in pressure. A window was partway open and the ocean breeze was up. Waves echoed on the sandy shore.
She looked like an angel in the candle’s glow.
The outside world shut down as Striker made his way toward her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and make frantic love with her. Now, without wasting an extra second.
But he also wanted to pull her tight and hold on to her forever. He wanted to know her thoughts, her secrets, her hopes, her fears.
He slowed to a stop in front of her, tamping down his desire, gently reaching out to brush her fingertips with his own. Even that light touch sent sparks of desire shooting along his system.
“Hi,” she breathed.
He loved her voice. He took the small step that brought his body against hers. “Hi.”
He inhaled deeply, reveling in her scent, resisting an urge to bury his face in her neck. He had to take it slow this time.
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