Guilty Pleasures

by Stella Cameron

  “Hey,” he whispered. “It’s easy, y’know.”

  “Mmm?”

  “It’s easy. What’s happening to you and me.”

  “You’ll have to explain that.”

  “Falling in love.”

  Her eyes snapped open.

  “Like falling off a log, kid. That’s about how hard it’s been, isn’t it?”

  Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “This isn’t the time.”

  “Sure it is. We don’t get to choose the time. That’s one of the things that makes it so easy. We don’t do much, and it just happens to us.”

  “Xavier…” She paused, her lips parted.

  He chuckled. “I never liked my name till you started using it. When you feel really close to me, you call me Xavier. It sounds great.”

  “You assume an awful lot, Xavier Ferrito.”

  “Do I? Yes, I guess I do. I assume you love me, too.”

  “People don’t do this nowadays.”

  He ducked his head until she looked at him. “What don’t people do nowadays?” he asked her.

  “The chaste falling-in-love thing. A few kisses. The odd touch. Then they’re in love.”

  “A bit more than the occasional touch if I remember correctly,” he pointed out. “But you’re showing your ignorance, sweetheart. Obviously you’re hopelessly out-of-date. We’re doing the chaste—the more or less chaste falling-in-love thing, aren’t we?”

  “You’re pushing me.”

  “Aren’t we?”

  Polly undid several of his shirt buttons and slipped her hands inside. She stroked his chest, moved in close, and rested her mouth on his breastbone.

  Shaking her carefully, he spoke into her hair. “Answer me. We’re in love. You know it, and I know it. Don’t we?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. Her mouth moved to one of his nipples. With the very tip of her tongue she teased him. “Oh, yes.”

  Nasty settled his hands around her neck. Controlling the urge to crush her to him was tough. He rubbed his fingers up and down the back of her neck. “You are a chest woman, okay, sweet Polly. And I love you.”

  She became absolutely still.

  “I love you, and I want you with me. We’re going to work that one out.”

  Her hands fell slowly to his waist. “I think I’d like that. But I’ve got some things to get through first.”

  “Anything that affects you, affects me.” It was true. Every other thing in his life might be on a vaguely uncertain foundation, but not this. “Festus could have taken off. We may never hear from him again. But if we do, I’ll be right there.”

  “Nasty, I don’t think it was Festus who attacked me at the condo. And I don’t think he was the one who knocked me in the water.”

  “Just let me do the thinking.”

  “No!” She backed off, and he saw pure fury in her eyes. “I thought you’d got the message about treating me like a child. I’m not your responsibility. You can’t kiss it and make it better for me. I’ve got to think about Bobby.”

  “We’ll both think about Bobby.”

  Shaking her head, she walked backward. “I want you. I want you so much. But I will do what I think is best. If that means I need to go away, I’ll do it.”

  “Polly—”

  “I won’t do something dramatic like sneaking away without you knowing. I’ll tell you I’m going. But it won’t do you any good to try to stop me.”

  “The hell it won’t.” He caught one of her hands. “No. You understand me. No. You are not to even think about going anywhere without me. Got it?”

  “I’m going back to the house. Those two nice women must really wonder what the deal is. Two complete strangers dropped on them like this.”

  He knew a flash of fear. The sensation stopped him. “Rose is no stranger to trouble. She’s had her share.” This was why he’d chosen to be alone for so long. When you had no one who waited for you, no one you waited for, the only time you were afraid was when you looked at the wrong end of a weapon.

  Polly pulled on his hand. He started walking, kept on walking with her beside him. “Promise you won’t do anything dumb.”

  “I’ll do what I think is best. I can’t stay here. It’s not right.”

  “Please, Polly. I hate to use this, but it’s true anyway. If you leave, Rose will think she’s done something to upset you. Dusty told her you’ve been working too hard and need a rest.; She’s doing what she does so well—making you comfortable. And she’s loving it.”

  She didn’t appear to be listening. “Bobby will be safer if I’m not with him.”

  The next phase of his new sensations hit. Panic. “Safety in numbers. Remember that? And you’d never be able to rest unless you could watch over him yourself.”

  “Would you do something for me?”

  “Anything.”

  “You watch over him. Just till this is over. I know you can keep him safe—but not as long as I’m a magnet for trouble.”

  A magnet? She thought she was the magnet? He almost laughed. “Dusty’s coming back. I don’t think there’s anything major to worry about, but I do understand where you’re coming from. Let’s wait for Dusty and make some decisions then.”

  “Because you know this is bigger than we thought, don’t you?”

  He sure did. “No. I think it’s all going to blow over. But you won’t believe that until it happens. There’s Nellie. Wave. I don’t want her to sense anything. She’s not as tough as Rose.”

  “Rose is tough?” She said it as if she thought he was mad.

  “In her way. She’s a bright woman who knows she’s got hang-ups. She copes with that.” And he’d seen her hold up under pressure in the past. “Wave.”

  Dutifully, Polly waved at Nellie, who stood on the veranda. “There you are,” she called when they drew closer. “Bobby said you were coming back from the mill.”

  He shaded his eyes and smiled at her. “Let me guess. Rose is ready for some tea, and she’s missing us.” To Polly he murmured, “Something you two have in common. You’re both tea lovers.”

  “There’s a phone call for you,” Nellie said. “He said he’d hang on while I came to find you.”

  Nasty looked at Polly. “I bet that’s Dusty.” They hurried after Nellie, who went inside the house.

  He picked up a telephone receiver that lay on a delicate table in the hall. “Hello.” No one answered.

  “Is it Dusty?” Polly said.

  “I don’t know. He hung up. What did he say, Nellie?”

  “Nothing really,” she told him. “He didn’t ask for you. He wanted to speak to Polly.”

  Twenty-three

  So she’d told a lie. Or he might consider she had. But when she’d told Nasty she wouldn’t do anything major without telling him, she’d meant it. That was before the call—and the evening of waiting while nothing happened. Nothing but Nasty getting a call from Dusty, which he’d taken in private and showed no sign of telling her about.

  You did what you had to do, and she needed to put distance between herself and Bobby. She trusted Nasty to do what she couldn’t ask of her mother. He’d keep her son safe.

  Crumb, he’d be furious when he realized what she’d done.

  He’d just have to be furious.

  Thank goodness the evening had been short. Rose playing her white grand piano. Nellie listening and smiling. Nasty secretly making funny faces at Bobby, who had coughed a great deal.

  The house was utterly still. Rose had given Polly a sweet room beneath the eves with twin dormer windows overlooking the front of the estate. A light down quilt and rose-scented linens turned the double bed into a soft bower against one wall. Too bad Polly couldn’t relax and enjoy the sensation.

  Bobby slept on the floor below, with Nasty in the next room. Rose had a suite at the opposite end of the house, and Nellie was using a room near her old friend.

  After changing into jeans and a T-shirt, Polly had slipped beneath the quilt and waited for this moment. The few es
sentials—money, credit cards, driver’s license—were in the pocket of her windbreaker on a chair by the door. She wouldn’t take anything else. With luck, she wouldn’t be missed even first thing in the morning. If someone came looking for her, they’d assume she’d gone out for a walk.

  She threw back the quilt, mussed the rest of the covers, switched on the flashlight so thoughtfully provided on the bedside table, and pushed her feet into tennis shoes. The batteries must be conserved. Polly turned off the light and tied her shoes by feel in the dark.

  Treading softly, she crossed to the nearest window and peeked out between the airy, floral drapes. Her tummy squeezed. So dark. She’d decided to walk into Past Peak and go to that diner to make a call for a taxi. Nasty had said Rose’s house was about three miles out of town. Now that she’d made the trip, she knew that all she had to do was get to the road outside the estate—Mill Pond Road—turn right to 202, then go left into Past Peak.

  Simple.

  Simply horrible, darn it. She didn’t even know where to tell the taxi to take her.

  Back to Kirkland?

  To Hole Point and her mother?

  To Fab’s place?

  She crossed her arms on the wall near the window and rested her head. What would the police say if she asked them for help? They’d want to know what had changed since she last spoke with them. She had nothing concrete to tell them.

  Belinda might be able to help. At least she could tell Polly if Festus had made contact.

  “Go,” she whispered to herself. “Just do it.”

  Polly pushed away from the wall and turned around—and a big hand, pressed over her mouth, stifled her scream. Her knees buckled, but she wasn’t allowed to fall.

  A painfully solid arm around her body, and a big, hard hand over her mouth, kept her on her feet.

  “I think I’ve made my point,” Nasty whispered into her ear. “Every thought you have walks across your lovely face. I’m getting very good at knowing what those thoughts are.”

  She shook her head.

  Nasty rested his jaw against her temple. “Yes, Polly. Yes. I am a professional. I was a professional. I was trained to sniff trouble in the wind—and to see it in the crook of a finger, or the flicker of an eyelid. When you said good night to Bobby, you’re eyelids weren’t just flickering, kid—you were blinking so rapidly I wasn’t sure you’d see enough to make your way up here.”

  Polly mumbled into his palm.

  His breath was warm on her skin. “Screaming would be pointless. You’re among friends. My friends. Do we understand each other?”

  She’d like to cry. Now that would be really stupid. She nodded yes, and he removed his hand at once. He didn’t release her.

  Polly stood still, her face close enough to feel the subtle shift of blood and breath beneath his skin.

  “I’m so pissed at you, lady.”

  She winced.

  “What the?… What did you think you were going to do out there?”

  “Nothing,” she said, very, very quietly. “I was just taking a look out of the window.”

  “You are a rotten liar.”

  “I am not. I never tell lies.”

  “Exactly.” He shook her once, and held her so hard, with both arms, she could scarcely take a breath. “You are a rotten liar. As in you are no good at telling lies. A woman who gets out of bed to look out of the window isn’t usually already dressed. And she doesn’t usually stop to put on shoes and tie them real good and tight.”

  She began to shake. “How do you know that?”

  “You interrupted my nap.”

  “Nap?”

  “The one I was having when you threw back the quilt.”

  “You couldn’t know I’d done that,” she said, incensed, “Don’t make things up. Where… Where were you?”

  “You got out of bed and put on the flashlight. Then you turned off the flashlight and tied your shoes in the dark. Never mind how I know, or where I was. I was waiting for you to do what you did because I knew you would. I saw you making your plans downstairs.”

  Anger totally replaced shock. “Congratulations. It’s nice to know we train our armed forces to gang up on innocent people.”

  “One man can’t be a gang.”

  “I have every right to get out of my bed and look—”

  “Hush,” he said. “Don’t raise your voice. You told me you wouldn’t try anything without talking to me first.”

  “I knew you’d say that.”

  “You lied to me.”

  “I knew you’d say that, too. The situation changed. When I said what I said, I didn’t know that crazy man had already found me.”

  She heard his teeth come together, and the way he expelled a breath—hard. “Damn it, Polly.”

  “I’ve got to make up my own mind about—”

  “No, you don’t.” He gripped her shoulders. “What the hell do you think you’re playing with here? Some asinine monster characters from the show? This is for real. This is insanity.”

  “I know—”

  “No, you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t even consider putting on the martyr act.”

  Polly tried to draw herself up. “I’m not a martyr.”

  “You would be if you went out there and ended up dead. What about us? What about Bobby and me? Don’t we matter?”

  She mustn’t cry. “I was going because of… Okay, it was dumb.”

  His hold on her relaxed slightly. “Yeah. Real dumb.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Good.” He stroked her arms. “Oh—oh, damn it all. You’re shaking. Are you cold?”

  “Cold?” Polly covered her own mouth then repeated softly, “Cold? Crumb! I’m absolutely terrified. Shocked. It’s shock that’s making me shake. If someone crept up on you in the dark, you’d shake.”

  “I never found that particularly helpful.”

  Wild laughter threatened. “You’re like something out of a film. One of those films about men with black stuff on their faces who run around in jungles. Wading through mud with a machine gun held over your head. Shaking wouldn’t be particularly helpful?” She did laugh then. It bubbled up in bursts that racked her.

  “Okay,” Nasty said. “Easy does it. It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll consider this a useful exercise, shall we? Come on, sit on the bed.”

  “We’ll consider this a useful exercise?” She laughed afresh. “You—you’re not real. Watch it!”

  He lifted her, and twisted them both, and—with the sensation of flying—she landed on top of him on the bed.

  They lay there, quiet, listening—each to the subtle living sounds of the other.

  “How did you do that?” Polly asked when she couldn’t bear the silence any longer.

  “I don’t remember.”

  Her face was inches from his, but she could see nothing but the glint of his eyes and teeth—and the suggestion of sharply defined bone. “Your ankle’s pretty much perfect again, isn’t it?”

  “It’ll have to do.”

  More silence.

  “You’re beautiful, Xavier.” Where did words come from?

  “Only you would call me beautiful.”

  “Why?”

  “Because no one ever loved me the way you do.”

  Her heart had stopped. Of course it had. There was no way it could still be beating.

  “You don’t decide, do you, Polly? You just say what comes to mind.”

  “When I’m with you. I think you give me some kind of drug when I’m not looking.”

  She felt him chuckle, felt the vibration in his chest. “Truth serum,” he said. “Shucks, and I didn’t think you’d ever catch me.”

  “Truth serum? You make up your mind I love you. Then you tell me I love you. You don’t know that, Xavier.”

  “I’m sure you’re comfortable,” he said. “It’s a bit of a tight fit for me sideways on a double bed.”

  She let her face fall against his neck. “If you think lying on top of a very hard man’s c
omfortable, think again.”

  His body jerked beneath her.

  “What?” She raised her head and tried—a totally wasted effort—to shake him. “What are you laughing about?”

  “Oh, there’s just something about the innocent way you walk into some things. Sorry I’m too… uncomfortable for you. We’ll fix it.”

  Without giving her a chance to comment, he made another seamless move. Polly came gently to rest between the wall— and Nasty.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “Not tonight. Not ever. Unless I’m with you—until this thing’s over.”

  Polly tried to order her thoughts. “This isn’t what I’d planned.”

  “Evidently.”

  “I was going to put some distance between Bobby and me. I really do think that’s a good idea. He’ll be safer away from me.”

  “Very reasonably put. At this point, if Bobby’s in danger, he’s in danger—with or without you around. I don’t think he is.”

  Polly stiffened. “I’d better go down and check on him.”

  “Dusty’s got the watch.”

  She tried to see him. “Dusty’s back here?”

  “Yes. We’ll take it in turns to get some sleep.”

  “This is your turn.”

  “Was. I don’t think it’s going to happen, do you?”

  A flush stole over her. “It’s okay now. I promise I won’t try anything else silly.”

  “You think I’d believe you after the stunt you just tried to pull?”

  “I was confused. I’m not confused anymore. What I tried to do wasn’t too smart.”

  “Admit you love me.”

  “I shouldn’t have shoes on. They’ll ruin the quilt.”

  “I’ve got shoes on, too. I don’t care. Quit changing the subject.”

  “For a quiet man, you can really run off at the mouth.”

  “Oh, nice. One minute you tell me you love me, the next minute you insult me.”

  He muddled her up. “I didn’t tell you I love you.”

  His hand settled on her neck. He played his thumb along her jaw, across her ear.

  “Well, I didn’t,” she said. Even her whisper was breaking up. “I didn’t.”

  “Do it, then.”

  “You didn’t want to get out of the Navy.”

  “No.” He sighed. “But I didn’t want the desk job they offered me after my ankle was shot up. Now I’m getting used to the idea.”