Satisfaction

by Marianne Stillings

  She wondered what it would be like to be the object of that kind of intense desire, and whether he pursued women with the same single-minded determination that he pursued everything else.

  Her thumb grazed his cheekbone. He had power cheekbones, the kind that were high and classically chiseled. All Ethan had to do was walk into a room, and he was immediately in charge.

  His lips were slightly full and curved, the cleft above his upper lip deep and wide, signaling he had a sense of humor, was extremely sensual, and a woman would be wise to put him in control of her body.

  “Like what you see?” he drawled, his eyes still closed. A smile crept slowly over his mouth. A second later, Georgie caught the glint of hazel green as he opened one lid a fraction. “It’s not fair to take advantage of a man while he’s in the throes of an erotic dream.”

  She smiled sleepily at him. I love you. Can’t you see it? Don’t you know? I can’t say it again, not out loud, not until I know how you feel. Do you love me back, Ethan? Will you ever love me back…?

  Suddenly embarrassed at how needy she’d let herself feel, she shoved herself out of his arms and sat up, pulling the sheet around her quickly cooling body. Crossing her arms over her breasts, she stared at the room at nothing in particular.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his brow furrow in confusion. “What?” he said, sitting up next to her. “Georgie? What’s going—”

  “Your bedroom’s all wrong,” she rasped. Swallowing, she steadied herself and guided her thoughts away from the words she really wanted to say. He could love her or love her not; it didn’t matter. But she was not going to turn needy over him. She was not. “Um, wrong colors, wrong furniture, wrong placement. I’m surprised you’re as healthy as you are, given the negative chi that permeates this house.”

  “Dear God,” he said dryly. “What could I have been thinking?”

  “Never mind,” she groused. “I’ll have Moxie help me with the cures.”

  “The cures?”

  “The, uh, fixes. They’re called cures. To your bedroom, to your house. The cures will stabilize your life force, your prosperity, and your frigging happiness.” She hadn’t meant to snap out that last part, it just sort of forced its way past her resolve.

  “Okay,” he said, watching her warily. “But what if I think my chi is fine right where it is?”

  “It’s not. If it were…”

  She jerked her body around to face him. His eyes were guarded, but his mouth curved at one end. He was laughing at her! Fighting hard not to snap at him again, she said, “As I see it, I’m going to be stuck in this place for some time to come.”

  “Yes, you are in my custody until the police figure out who killed Corcoran. It may take years.” His eyes smiled into hers. “Maybe de cades.”

  “Well, in that case, I’m redecorating. You can afford it. Since I can’t go into the station to work, I can’t leave town, I can’t go back to my house because it’s a crime scene—” Her voice broke over that one. “And I can’t prove I didn’t kill Vaughn, I need to find something I can do!”

  “Don’t hide my remote control,” he quipped. “That’s all I ask. I have to go into the city and meet with Nate today. Ask Moxie for anything you need. I know the last few days have been tough, so if feng shuiing the hell out of my house will help you cope, knock yourself out, Grasshopper. I’m leaving Lucas here to keep an eye on things. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

  “Sure, I’m safe,” she drawled. “As safe as anyone can be who’s under suspicion for murder.”

  “You didn’t do it.”

  “I know!” Okay, so she was stretched a little thin. Maybe a day alone with nothing but the sun, the sea, and her own thoughts would help her decompress.

  He chucked her chin with his knuckle and grinned at her…and there it was again, that warm something reflecting in his eyes that she could have sworn was love. But when he spoke, all he said was, “The SFPD and I will find out who killed Corcoran. In the meantime, decorate your little heart out. I’ll be home in time for dinner.”

  “Ethan?”

  “Mm-hmm,” he murmured as he leaned forward to place a kiss on the back of her neck.

  “Have you, um, have you ever considered telling Nate what you told me about Cath—”

  “No,” he warned in a low voice. “My brother and I don’t have that kind of relationship.”

  She inhaled, then turned to look at him. “Maybe we could expand our deal to include other people, like maybe your brother.”

  “It’s not gonna happen. Drop it, Georgie.”

  Lowering her lashes, she studied the sheet crumpled around her body. “I’ll drop it, after I say just one more thing.” She lifted her hand, pointing her index finger into the air.

  He sighed, deep, long, loud. “What one more thing?”

  “Well, you have to start trusting Nate sometime. You made a deal with me; maybe you could make one with him, too.”

  Tossing the covers off his body, he stood and began walking naked to the bathroom, allowing her a glimpse of the angry red wound slashing across his rib cage.

  “Does it still hurt? Where you got shot? Where you took that bullet for your brother, as you put it?” She cocked her head and blinked innocently at him.

  He stopped, his arms dangling at his sides. For a moment he remained silent, then he turned to meet her gaze. “Don’t leave the estate grounds. You’re well protected here, so stay here. Are we clear on this?”

  “Yes, Master,” she said sarcastically, crossing her fingers under the sheet. “Very clear.”

  After a somewhat wary-looking Ethan kissed Georgie good-bye, she stayed in bed awhile, thinking about him and how she would fix up his house, especially the bedroom. No matter what the future brought, making the place a peaceful, properly feng shui’d home would be her gift to him.

  Everything in the bedroom—and in the whole house, from what she’d seen so far—was masculine. Hard-edged black lacquer pieces, too-bright lighting, and not a hint of tenderness or romance, or the earth or the elements anywhere. The place screamed, Bachelor pad! Single and staying that way!

  Silly man.

  Her gaze fell on his pillow and she knew she couldn’t resist. In the time-honored way of women in love, she rolled over and smooshed her face into its softness, breathing deeply, sighing his name. His scent, clean and musky, filled her senses. Then she wrapped her arms around the pillow as if it were his body and hugged it, inhaling, cuddling, smiling.

  Mmm. Ethan’s pillow. If men only knew what their pillows went through in the arms of the women who loved them…

  Finally releasing it, she pushed her covers off and padded to the window that overlooked the usually blue Pacific. Today, however, thick gray fingers of fog crawled toward the shore far below, turning the water a gloomy steel-green. Time to get a move on. Quickly showering, she dressed in jeans, a pullover sweater, and sandals.

  Leaving Ethan’s bedroom, she walked silently down the long hallway. All was quiet, so she assumed Lucas, Raine, and the baby were still asleep.

  Downstairs, she passed from room to room on her way to the kitchen, making mental notes of the ghastly problems in decorating she’d need to correct. While everything was tastefully done, it was obvious a decorator had furnished the place, and not Ethan, and certainly not a woman who loved him. It was a place to live, not a home. By the time she was done with it, he’d never want to leave.

  Neither would she.

  The huge corner kitchen had wraparound windows that faced west, and even though the property was surrounded by tall trees, she spotted a gate in the distance that probably led down to the beach. Perfect. Rocks and pebbles smoothed and shaped by ocean currents, gnarled driftwood made fluid and soft-edged by sand and salt and sea, would provide a great addition to Ethan’s bedroom, and invite the magnificent Pacific right into his personal space. Fabulous chi.

  “Mornin’, honey.”

  Georgie jumped and turned around. Moxie stood in the wide kit
chen doorway, holding the magnificent yellow-eyed white cat.

  “Back at ya,” Georgie said. “Your cat’s gorgeous.”

  Moxie set the fluffy white bundle on the floor. Tail shooting for the sky, the feline padded over to a food dish by the back door and began taking delicate bites of the fishy concoction in the bowl.

  “She is beautiful,” Moxie agreed, as she shuffled in worn slippers over to the coffeemaker. “But she’s not mine. Belongs to the Darling.”

  Georgie cocked her head. “He told me she came with the house. I figured he was joking, though, and that she belonged to you.”

  Moxie let out a hearty laugh. “Nope. Truth is, he found her as a kitten. Named her Violet because she was so shy. She’d been tossed in a trash dump, all scrawny and starving. Brought her home. Spent a fortune in vet’s fees. Insisted on feeding her himself.”

  “Ethan?”

  Moxie wiped her hands on the brilliant red tunic top she wore over white leggings, then smiled at Georgie. “He’s like that. Loves animals and kids. Hides it real good, though, doesn’t he? The man’s always taking in strays.” She arched a thin brow and sent Georgie a meaningful look. “Like me.”

  As the heady aroma of fresh-brewed coffee filled the kitchen, Georgie said, “You take in strays, too?”

  Reaching for a couple of coffee mugs from the cabinet next to the stainless steel refrigerator, Moxie said, “No. Meaning I am a stray. Eight years ago, my ex beat the living shit out of me. I was nearly dead. Cops show up and my Darling gives me first aid till the paramedics arrive. He was still a detective then. Before he left the force and got all rich. Went with me to the hospital.”

  “Oh, Moxie. I’m so sorry.”

  Moxie lifted a shoulder, ran her fingers through her spikes of white hair. “The ex was a real charmer, but then, so was I. All drugged up, bag of bones, no skills, no job. Darling came to the hospital every day. Don’t know what he saw in me. Such a mess I was back then. Said he had a job for me, but I had to stay clean. Made me promise. I still had enough brain cells left to take him up on his offer, and I’ve never looked back.”

  Leaning her hip against the shiny black marble counter, Georgie said, “He’s very special.”

  “He’s a man puts his money where his mouth is. Lots of the help he’s had over the years have been like me, specially once the money started rolling in.” Moxie’s eyes grew serious. “We had a gardener on the place, up until a few months ago. Murdered by some lunatic. Darling took it upon himself to track the killer, even defying his own brother to nab the perp. Closed the case, but he ended up with a bullet in his side.”

  Georgie nodded absently, thinking about Ethan’s refusal to discuss the details of how he’d come to take that bullet. He didn’t think of himself as a hero; she couldn’t think of him any other way.

  “I’m in love with him,” she said, raising her head to gauge Moxie’s reaction.

  “I know.” A quiet grin spread across the house keeper’s features. “He’s in love with you, too.”

  Georgie’s heartbeat quickened and her blood warmed as hope flooded her system like a soft spring rain. “He hasn’t…did he say something to you?”

  Her smile broadened. “No, but he loves you all the same. Apparently, he hasn’t finished analyzing it to death yet.” She rolled her expressive eyes. “My Darling, he’s big on analyzing, but he always manages to come up with the right answer.”

  There wasn’t much Georgie could say to that, so instead she said, “Look, I, um, I told him I was going to do a little redecorating, so I should get started.” Speculating on Ethan’s feelings for her were counterproductive. Unless and until he told her how he felt, she was only setting herself up for heartbreak. Gesturing out the window, she said, “Does that gate back there lead down to the beach?”

  “Sure does. Got a cipher lock on it on the other side. Once you go through it, you need the code to get back in.” Glancing at the coffeemaker, she said, “Why don’t I give you a complete tour of the house and grounds, then you can get going on your redecorating?”

  “Sounds fantastic.”

  By the time Moxie had given Georgie a room-by-room analysis of the house, and they’d strolled through the extensive gardens, then had a bite of lunch, it was closing in on one in the afternoon. Raine and Lucas had come downstairs to say hello, then disappeared somewhere outside, taking Caroline with them in the stroller.

  Back in the kitchen, Georgie said, “That cipher lock code, twelve-twenty-five, right?”

  “Right,” Moxie agreed. “Once you go through the gate, there are steps carved right into the rock. It’s steep, but doable. Nice cove at the bottom with a pretty little beach. Rocks on either side keep it safe and private. The original owners used to have big parties and people would dock their boats and climb the stairs to the terrace. There’s even a pier that runs out past the breakers.”

  “Well, I just want to collect some driftwood and beach rocks for Ethan’s bedroom.”

  Moxie tilted her head. “So you’ll need something to carry it all in,” she said, her eyes bright with enthusiasm.

  Shuffling over to a tall cupboard, she rummaged inside for a minute, then pulled out a large canvas sack with handles. “This should do the trick.” On the counter, the coffeemaker burbled and popped with a fresh pot. “It’s still chilly out there. Let me pour you a cup to take with you.”

  Outside, the canvas tote in one hand, a mug of steaming coffee in the other, Georgie was met once more by the cool afternoon air. She smiled to herself, ready to enjoy a little time alone.

  After Moxie’s extensive, detailed, and enthusiastic tour, her mind was filled with ideas for transforming Ethan’s house. Yes, this was just what she needed.

  Mist blew through the bars of the wrought-iron gate to curl around the redwoods, flower beds, small pines, and lush ferns that surrounded the house. The hinges squeaked as she pulled the gate wide enough to walk through; immediately, it snapped shut behind her.

  Taking a sip of coffee, she gazed out across the Pacific—or as much as she could see of it through the blanket of fog. Moxie was right. The natural curve of the coastline and cliffs created an inlet, a small cove, and private beach that was inaccessible except by boat. At the north end of the inlet, a narrow dock jutted far out into the water.

  She began descending the wide steps, inhaling deeply of the briny air, letting the soft mist cool her cheeks. Tossing her head, she smiled, feeling like a healthy young animal out in the world.

  As she continued on down, the sound of the surf grew louder until she finally reached the bottom of the path and stepped onto the sandy beach. The mist was thinner here, allowing her to see the small waves that crashed and tumbled over each other as they raced onto the hard sand, then retreated, leaving only a thin sheet of salty foam in their wake.

  Overhead, seagulls whirled and argued, while a weak sun tried to break through the clouds.

  As she strolled toward the pier, she thought she caught a glimpse of red in the mist near what must be the end of the dock. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to make it out, but the fog over the water was too dense.

  Spotting a pretty seashell near her feet, she bent and picked it up, enjoying the feel of the gritty grains of sand on her fingers.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  The man’s voice came from behind her. As she whirled to face it, the coffee mug flew from her hand and the coffee splashed out, instantly absorbed into the wet sand as though it had never been.

  Panic choked her. She felt like she was in one of those nightmares where you want to scream, but can’t. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard, her whole body jerked. Fear thickened her brain as she simply stared at Paul Corcoran. Behind him, two men leered at her, making her feel queasy.

  Reaching for her arm, Paul yanked her close to his chest, tightening his grip until she wanted to cry out. But she didn’t.

  “Here we were, trying to figure out a way past that gate up there, and what do you think? The very
lady I came to see comes trotting on down the steps, right into my lap.”

  “W-what are you doing here?” she managed on a voice too breathy and thin.

  Paul’s usually even features morphed into something ugly, something hateful, and her legs nearly went out from under her. His grip tightened even more and she thought she’d cry out, but just then he shoved her, and she fell hard into one of the other men’s barrel chest. She tried to push herself away from him, but his thick fingers encircled both her wrists in an iron grip.

  “Georgie? Is that you down there? Who’s with you?”

  Raine! It was Raine, calling to her from the top of the cliff!

  Quickly pulling in a deep breath, she screamed, “It’s Paul! Tell Ethan—”

  Her head snapped to the side as the flat of Paul’s hand met her cheek in a vicious slap.

  “Shut up!” he shouted, looking around frantically, then up at the cliff where Raine was screaming Georgie’s name. “Honcho,” he ordered, gesturing to Georgie. “Get her into the boat. We’ve got to get the hell out of here!”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Stay in the present, in the now. If you drag energy from the past with you into the future, like, hello! Don’t expect anything to change! You want a new man in your life? Then let go of the old one(s). Release all that negative energy by forgiving—forgive whoever hurt you, but most of all, forgive yourself. The only person all that old hate, anger, and guilt will impact is you.

  Georgiana Mundy’s Feng Shui for Lovers

  “I understand the police spoke with you this morning.” Ethan studied the station manager’s face. Ozzie Horton was as easy to read as a kindergarten coloring book. He avoided direct eye contact, blinked rapidly and constantly, stuttered, hemmed and hawed, and sat poised on the edge of his desk chair, ready to scurry to the door if Ethan said boo. “You told them you don’t know anything about the murder.”