“You have great muscles there, sweetheart. Squeeze me again while I squeeze you.”
Maggie responded instantly, the sharp desire so close to exploding into rapture she felt a little desperate.
Then Trevor found her clit again. He grasped it between his fingers, pulled it, and squeezed.
Maggie moaned as her climax erupted and as Richard’s cock began to spurt in her mouth. She heard Trevor’s shout, felt him hold himself deep inside her, and felt his cock pulse. Kevin’s low moan stimulated her orgasm, sending her higher.
Maggie swallowed and she wallowed in rapture and in bliss and wondered if she could really survive so much pleasure.
Chapter 12
Clarence Conrad considered his plan to be nothing more than an act of poetic justice. And what could be more just than Richard Benedict being “hoist by his own petard,” as it were?
Bastard comes to London and opens his mouth, spreading filthy lies and innuendo to my family and friends, interfering where he has no business, ruining my fucking life.
The fact that the man really hadn’t lied was entirely beside the point. It hadn’t been Benedict’s place to open his mouth and involve himself in matters above his station, period. The cheek of daring to presume himself and his family to be on an equal social footing with a Conrad deserved retribution in itself. Conrad was merely returning the favor. And so far, the endeavor was proving to be far easier than he’d dared hoped.
His take on the people in this backwater country was that they were intrinsically simple, clinging to their inherently puritanical morality—at least when the lights were on and they were out in public.
Benedict had ruined him financially and socially. Conrad had already taken the first step toward getting even in the latter arena.
He smiled when he recalled the ease with which the blonde had been lured to his side and into his bed. Trixie-Lynn Miller, erstwhile actress with a voice that could likely shatter nerves and good crystal, had auditioned, unknowingly, for the part he planned for her to play. She’d passed with flying colors.
He’d enjoyed himself between her legs, of course. He’d have been a fool not to take what she so freely offered. And all the while he fucked her he’d been leading her to believe that he was interested in more than a casual fling. As if. But of course, he’d stayed true to his own role. He couldn’t make any real plans for the future until he’d avenged his poor, dear sister against that horrible lecher, Richard Benedict.
Conrad had Trixie in tears when he told her of the cold and callous way Benedict had seduced his sister, a woman engaged to be married to a socially prominent member of the peerage. Benedict had gotten her pregnant and then insisted she get an abortion, and in the end his poor sister had been left alone, no fiancé, no child, ruined in every sense of the word. And now Benedict was to be celebrated in yet another major magazine as some sort of a pillar of the community, as a hero? Oh, the outrage of it all!
So Trixie-Lynn, wearing the newly minted armor of the morally offended, had agreed to aid Clarence in avenging pure, sweet “Prudence” by acting the role of the spurned hometown sweetheart, another cast-off of that cad Richard Benedict. The tale dim-witted Trixie-Lynn would spin for Jemini Jones, reporter, had been tailor-made for that woman—echoing a personal tragedy involving Ms. Jones’s youngest sister.
Conrad thought that in his later years he might try his hand at writing fiction. He seemed to have a flair for it.
He’d distained using Mr. Talbot for his investigative purposes when he’d met him in New York City, but he had to give the man his due. He’d certainly provided Clarence with a wealth of information on his nemesis, potential contacts, and that bastard’s hometown.
He’d already figured out how to sow seeds of distrust there. Talbot’s very detailed report had stated that while there’d been no business ventures looking for capital—Conrad figured it must be a much smaller town than he’d first believed—and no homes for sale, there had been a new business about to open up, a bed-and-breakfast style of inn.
He’d have to figure out what he could do to screw Benedict using the inn. Since the owner was listed as a woman newly relocated from New Jersey, he doubted she had many contacts in her new location.
Striking at Benedict’s hometown would be the third step in his plan.
For now, he was about to take his first shot at Benedict’s business reputation. The Americans were fond of their maxims, and Conrad was counting on that, both on the societal and on the business front. Where there was smoke, they liked to say, there was fire. He would put that maxim to the test, personally, right now.
He looked up as the maître d’, escorting another man, approached his table. Conrad smiled and stood to greet his guest, holding out his hand.
“Mr. Michaelson, thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
“Mr. Clarence, good to meet you. Anytime someone wants to treat me to lunch at Sorrento’s, I’m happy to oblige.”
Michaelson’s firm grip nearly made Conrad wince. The man’s hands have obviously never received a manicure. Conrad didn’t think he’d ever get used to the coarseness of the men here in America.
The sommelier proved prompt, ready to take their drink requests. Since Michaelson was quick to order himself a bottle of beer, Conrad made a note to come back some evening and avail himself of the excellent selection of wines this restaurant offered. For this lunch, and to keep the appearance of being what he thought the Americans called a “good old man,” he made do with a single glass of Napa Valley white zinfandel.
Ordering lunch was done quickly, and before long they were each served a small appetizer salad and left more or less on their own.
Michaelson managed to stab several pieces of spring greens with his fork, which he then used as a pointer when he asked, “Have you been here long, Mr. Clarence?”
Conrad interpreted the question to be asking how long he’d been in the country. “I arrived in New York from London about two weeks ago. My client hired me to get to the bottom of a bit of skullduggery. When I discovered the focus of my investigation led me to Houston, why, I came here forthwith.”
“Skullduggery, is it? That sounds almost melodramatic. Puts me in mind of pirates and stolen treasure.”
“Your analogy is apt, in my opinion. I only need a bit more evidence, and then I plan to lodge a complaint with your Securities and Exchange Commission.” Conrad nodded for emphasis. “My understanding is that once a complaint is filed, action will be swift and just.”
Michaelson sat up straighter. “I see. You’re quite serious, then. Just who is it you suspect of wrongdoing?”
“A bloke by the name of Richard Benedict. He cheated my client out of hundreds of thousands of pounds, in Manchester. From what I’ve been able to discern, he’s done the same here, too, several times over. Made his family quite rich in the process, I dare say. In the course of my investigation, I learned of your pending venture with the man. If you haven’t signed on the dotted line already, then I strongly suggest that you do not.”
Michaelson set his fork down. “Really? You are talking about Richard Benedict of Benedict International? Just what is it you think he’s been doing?”
“From what I gather, his modus operandi is simple but effective. He chooses a mark and then works clandestinely to lower the value of the target company, months in advance of his main move. Then he makes an offer to purchase the ailing enterprise—which of course, is a lowball figure compared to what the firm had previously been worth—and then once he’s acquired it, why he miraculously brings about a ‘reversal of fortune,’ making a killing in the process. Rather clever, if you ask me. But shady. Yes, Richard Benedict is a very shady character, indeed.”
Conrad considered himself a good judge of men. What he’d just said unsettled his lunch companion. That’s really all he had intended to do. Worry the man, make him hesitate. Make him doubt the pending transaction. He’d then likely discuss the matter with others—men, Conrad believed, were far
worse gossips than women could ever hope to be.
The main course was delivered, and Conrad used all of his skill to be an engaging, and engaged, dinner companion. He smiled and listened and ate even as his mind reviewed the wonder of the simple yet effective plan he’d forged—and now was implementing, one step at a time.
Yes, before long, rumor and innuendo would work its magic, and Benedict would find business deals turning sour, business associates stepping back, and his life, in general, going to hell in the proverbial handbasket.
He almost wished he could see the look on the man’s face when the little bastard’s world began to fall apart around him.
Conrad sat back and away from his plate, pleased when the server immediately stepped forward. Everything was working out exactly the way he’d planned it. He felt one moment of wishing there was someone in whom he could confide his cunning and his success. The only one who would have given him full attention and praised his genius was his grandmother, and she, of course, was no longer among the living.
That was the only unfortunate element in this entire affair. No one would ever know the lengths he’d gone to in order to exact his revenge. He imagined, just for instant, his grandmother looking down on him from above with pride.
He never doubted for one moment that she’d forgiven him that one small transgression in the end. Hadn’t she often complained of the aches and pains that seemed never-ending in her dotage? He’d simply done the necessary to end her suffering, and enhance his own existence at the same time.
He smiled at his guest, feeling generous and congenial. “Shall we have a look at the dessert menu?”
* * * *
Maggie stretched. The past two hours spent surfing the web in her quest for information had put a kink in her back and a yearning for coffee in her soul.
She released the stretch and let her eyes wander outside, to the view of the west side of the house.
A good distance separated the inn from its next-door neighbor, a home that she’d been told housed a family of Jessops, kin to…well, from what she could tell, kin to just about everyone in town.
Christmas shopping must be a seriously expensive endeavor here in Lusty.
How did anyone have a hope of keeping all the family connections straight? Maggie shook her head. Maybe she’d just not worry about it. Or maybe she’d make herself a chart.
“Maggie?”
The sound of Richard’s voice calling her name sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. She couldn’t contain her smile. An hour ago, Trevor had stopped by, he’d said, just to check on her. He’d apologized because he and his brothers would be heading into Houston soon, for a meeting. He’d tried to convince her to come with them, but she’d declined. He’d been preceded in his quest by Kevin.
She’d been waiting for Richard to show up and repeat the offer.
Maggie had been feeling more than a little possessive of the brothers Benedict since that fabulous bout of “lusty sex” they’d indulged in four days ago.
So far, she’d avoided a replay of that very satisfying experience. Maggie felt pretty certain that casual affairs didn’t involve every single day spent in each others’ company. Neither did they result in one of the participants—namely her—spending every waking moment and several dreaming ones thinking of little else but her lovers.
She’d indulge herself in the brothers Benedict again, just as soon as what was happening between them stopped feeling like something more than what it was.
Maggie turned her face toward the door and raised her voice. “I’m in the office.”
She could hear his footsteps, and then the step of another. Not one of his brothers, as this step sounded more delicate. Feminine.
“Good morning, love.” Richard came right in and right up to her and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. As usual, whenever she tasted one of these men, the small sample just made her body cry out for a much-bigger helping.
“Good morning.” Her words brushed his lips as he kept his face so very close to hers.
“Yes, it is, especially now. Are you sure you don’t want to come to Houston with us?”
Maggie felt herself weakening. “I can’t. My ‘to do’ list is a mile long, at the very least. The inn has to be ready to open the first of next month, which isn’t that far off. I still have to finish ordering the brochures for area attractions from Texas Tourism, not to mention conducting some research into various advertising venues.”
“Wow, you speak Rick’s language. That’s incredible.”
Maggie had to look around Richard to see the woman who’d delivered that comment.
“This is our baby sister, Julia. We call her Jules, among other things. Jules, meet Maggie Morrison.”
“Nice to meet you, Julia.” This was the first time she’d been introduced to the young woman, although Maggie had seen Julia a couple of times around town. One time she’d been in the company of two very big and very buff men.
“Nice to meet you, too. I was actually on my way here when Rick commandeered me to come and meet you. Grandma sent some more books. There’re a few boxes of them in the back of my car.”
Maggie tilted her head to the side as she looked at Richard. He never did anything without a reason. Of course, discovering that reason could sometimes be a bit of a challenge. She could see how others would accuse him of being less than socially graceful. In her opinion, he didn’t lack grace. His mind just worked differently than most. Richard Benedict possessed a good heart and usually had what he considered a valid purpose for his actions.
One just had to discover what that purpose was.
Richard met her gaze and then shrugged. “We’ve been monopolizing your time. It occurred to us that if you wanted to reach out to others—you know, to answer questions about the area or point you in the right direction when it comes to whatever resources you need to tap to get the inn up and running, you should have more options as to who to call on than just the three of us.”
Clearly her maneuvering in an effort to stay out of their bed had not only been noticed, but misinterpreted. She hadn’t meant to make the men feel as if she was pushing them away. She wasn’t. She was just… Maggie sighed as she realized she’d just been acting the coward.
“You haven’t been monopolizing my time, and I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I didn’t mean to. Truth is, I’ve been feeling like I’ve been monopolizing yours—all of yours. The three of you are pretty important businessmen, if even a half of what I read in this newspaper article can be believed.”
To Maggie’s amusement, Richard actually blushed. Julia stepped all the way into the room, her gaze going to the printed-out copy of an article from the Houston Herald Maggie had referred to.
“Ha, yeah, that one! ‘Titans of the Twenty-First Century’!” She quoted the title of the article. “Nothing like standing tall with an enormous ego to hold you up there, big brother. Come to think of it, that title sounds like something Trey would come up with!”
“It’s not a title I’m comfortable with,” Richard said. “But as to the content of the article, I can attest that they got their facts right.” Then he grimaced. “That’s why we have to go into Houston, in fact. Another damn interview that Trey signed us up for, this time with a reporter from Style and Substance magazine. Your presence today would have been a big help, love.”
Maggie understood him, of course. “Oh, you mean, supporting you in your hour of need as you face the flesh-eating piranhas of the print media?”
Richard chuckled. “It’s not nice to laugh at us, love. You have no idea how painful this whole process is for us.” Then Richard shrugged. “I guess I should amend that to say, how painful it is for me. Trey and Kevin both seem to enjoy being in the spotlight.” He shuddered, an action Maggie thought instinctual.
She smiled because Richard had sounded so astounded when he said that.
“Well, since you’re all going to be suffering such a horrible noontime meal, why not come to dinner tonight, t
hen? Jake’s bringing an outdoor grill over today. I’ll grill up some steaks for us.”
Richard grinned. Then he kissed her again. This time, he didn’t even make a pretense of keeping the kiss light. His mouth fairly devoured hers, his tongue invading her mouth with a conqueror’s confidence.
By the time he pulled back, she was ready to surrender—to him, his brothers, and whatever it was they wanted to do with her, no holds barred.
Oh, Maggie! Face it, woman. You’re a goner.
Richard gave her a sympathetic look, and Maggie realized her expression must have given her thoughts away.
“It’s a date, love. Thank you for that. Just reminding myself of what a wonderful evening we have in store for us will help me get through this afternoon. Wish me luck. Kev and Trey both live for this kind of exposure. Me? I really hate interviews.”
Maggie shook her head. Somewhere along the line, Richard Benedict’s self-esteem had sprung more than a leak or two. She didn’t know why or how that had happened, but she meant to do all she could to repair it.
If she thought it would work, she would have told him outright that sometimes it just took one person to believe in him in order for him to begin to believe in himself. She didn’t think he was ready to hear that message, so she gave it to him another way.
“You don’t need luck.” Maggie’s gaze met Richard’s and held. “You’re an intelligent, well-spoken man. You can ace this interview, no problem.”
A look of pleasure crossed his face. He bent over, kissed her again, and then turned to leave. He seemed taken aback that his sister was still there. Truth to tell, Maggie had nearly forgotten the young woman’s presence, as well.
Julia held up her hands in front of her, as if to ward off an unwelcome pest. “Personal space, bro. No kissing.”
“No, that’s one of the great pleasures of this life that you’ll just have to miss out on, squirt.”
The young woman blinked and then laughed when Richard patted her on the head as he passed her. When they were alone, Julia turned her gaze on Maggie. For a long moment she seemed to be contemplating her. Maggie didn’t doubt that word had gotten around about her involvement with Julia’s brothers, since she’d certainly spent a fair bit of time in the company of the three Benedicts.
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