Satin Pleasures

by Karen Docter

  Dan pulled two mugs from a wall rack. "What does the bay have to do with it?"

  "It's ridiculous, but large bodies of water frighten me.”

  He looked over his shoulder one eyebrow raised in question.

  “I was sucked out to sea on a wave when I was three years old,” she explained. “My father rescued me, but I guess I never got over it."

  "You've come a long way, though, haven't you?"

  "What do you mean?"

  He motioned toward the open doorway. "You're on a bridge over a big expanse of water. You couldn't do that, if you weren't dealing with it."

  "I deal with it, barely. As long as I don't look at the water, I can get across the bay. I'm okay on the beach if I stay beyond the waterline. I also learned to swim," she smiled and added, “in a pool.”

  Dan nodded his approval. "That's a big one."

  Tess wished she were as brave as he seemed to think. "There aren't any waves in a pool."

  "There are lots of them in the pools I swim in."

  "I'll bet." With this man splashing around in the water, even she might summon the nerve to challenge the waves.

  Dream on, Tess. His pull on your senses is as treacherous as any undertow and, if you possess the least notion of self-preservation, you'll run, crawl—swim, if necessary—in the opposite direction. The thought propelled her legs over the side of the bed.

  "Don't run off. Your drink's almost ready." Dan poured hot water from the steaming saucepan into the mugs, and then turned away to dig through another cupboard.

  Deciding the seat behind the table looked like a safer place to be—despite what she’d told Dan, she still felt a little wobbly so she didn’t dare go too far yet—she took advantage of the space he left behind, removed her heels and eased off the bed. When Dan caught her maneuver, she justified the action. "It feels better when I'm sitting up."

  Liar, her conscience chided. You were feeling just fine lying in the man's bed, thank you very much.

  Dan set a mug on the table in front of her. "This will help you to relax."

  "What is it?"

  "Caffeine-free tea."

  "Tea?"

  "I did have to put a lot of sugar in it to mask the taint of arsenic, but you should be able to swallow it."

  The humor in his voice matched the laughter in his eyes, and she found herself smiling. "Is the antidote in there, too, Mr. McDonald?"

  "'Fraid not. I can't let you have it unless you call me Dan." He watched her sip the hot, sweet tea. "So, what's it to be? Dan or the dreaded death?"

  His intimate smile promised slow, wicked delights no sane woman would resist...and the blow to her head assured her she couldn't possibly be in her right mind. At least, that's what she told herself when his name slipped off her tongue on a breathless whisper. "Dan."

  Goosebumps ran rampant under her skin when he joined her at the dinette. She decided she liked the sensation before she tore herself away from the insidious feelings assaulting her good sense. For goodness sake! They sat on a bridge in the middle of the bay with hundreds of stranded motorists. She knew nothing about this man.

  Space. She needed more space.

  Rising, she walked in stocking feet to the open doorway. The fresh dose of reality, the sight of parked cars lining the bridge as far as the eye could see, the almost party-like atmosphere of the gridlocked drivers, diverted her from the temptation behind her. She frowned at the leisurely activities she'd dismissed earlier. Was she the only one here with a career on the brink of a meltdown?

  It was the least of the repercussions she now faced. The mere thought of irritating her employers at this point, when she needed money so desperately, made her crazy.

  Her agitation mounting, she paced the limited space between the door and the camper bed. She had to shorten her step when Dan stretched his cowboy boots out into the aisle, his long legs crossed at the ankles.

  "Want to talk about it?"

  Distracted by the appeal of faded, worn jeans stretched over powerful thighs, it took her a moment to respond. "It won't help me get back to work, will it?"

  "Sorry. No."

  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him watching her. From the appearance of his lengthening frown, she determined he was struggling with a weighty problem. She had the weirdest feeling she was the problem.

  Dan crossed his arms. "I know it's none of my business, but you're pushing for one hell of a breakdown. You're a prime candidate for ulcers. Or worse. Believe me, whatever waits for you on the other side of this bridge isn't worth risking your blood pressure. It's my experience nothing is that important."

  Tess's eyes blurred on the burning memory of another time, another man shouting similar, though angrier, words before ripping her heart out. Concentrating on the unwarranted attack on her priorities instead of the disastrous end of her engagement to Evan Garrett, Tess slid her gaze over the flannel shirt and jeans Dan wore. She scanned the camper interior and saw enough personal belongings to suggest Dan lived in it. "What exactly do you do?"

  He hesitated. "Fish."

  "You fish."

  "Most recently. Yes."

  Despite appearances, the man didn't strike her as the vagabond type. For some reason, she could imagine him in an Armani suit, the quintessential executive. Maybe it was the way he carried himself or the ease with which he’d cut to the heart of her problem, as if used to taking command and making snap decisions. Most likely, it was the forceful accent of authority deepening his voice. She could actually see him barking orders into three phones at once.

  The conflicting images made no sense. "Look, I don't understand your problems, and you know nothing of mine. I manage a shopping center in San Francisco. My directors don't allow for delay. They don't allow for traffic jams. They don't allow...period!"

  She blew off her agitation on a puff of air. "Never mind. I can't make you understand why it's imperative I get off this stupid bridge."

  "I understand more than you—"

  Tess grabbed her heels from the dinette seat where she’d tucked them, summoned a smile, and cut him off. "Thanks, Dan. I feel better now so I must see about finding a cell phone. Nice meeting you!" She raced down the camper steps, as much to escape her irritation with Dan as the frustration of her inactivity.

  Dan was at her heels, halting her progress with a few terse words. "I know exactly what it is to be that dedicated,” he said. “If I'd been caught like this a year ago, I'd have done a lot more stomping than those dainty, spiked heels of yours could ever handle.

  "Ah, hell." He thrust his fingers through his hair. His voice lowered. "Tess, I'm merely suggesting you stop and smell the roses. Watch the birds fly. Learn to relax and take advantage of the opportunities life throws at your feet."

  That kind of freedom was foreign to the adult Tess. "I've forgotten how," she admitted with a pang of regret for lost childhood dreams, "and I wouldn't recognize an opportunity now if it slapped me between the eyes."

  For an inordinately long time, Dan stared at her. Then, he muttered something that sounded a lot like a curse. "We have one right here." He drew closer. "One, I can't resist."

  Alarms went off in her head when she registered his intent. They faded in favor of the curiosity unexpectedly crashing over her like an ocean wave on a parched beach. Head reeling, she lifted her chin to accommodate the firmness of his mouth.

  Dan tasted of cool peppermint, of simmering passion, his velvety mustache wreaking havoc on her tingling lips. Her skin flushed with heat, her body melted into his hardness. Butter-soft flannel rested beneath her fingers. A clean, masculine scent teased her nostrils. The tip of his tongue lightly traced her mouth, feeding the insatiable hunger growing alongside the tremors beneath her skin.

  Tess moaned when he lifted his head too soon after the kiss began. She gazed into the storm-tossed sea of his eyes. "What did you do that for?" She wasn't sure if she referred to the kiss or his reason for pulling away.

  A crooked half-smile pulled at his li
ps. "Relaxing you?"

  She might have taken exception to his quip, if she weren't aware of the pound of his heartbeat beneath her hand. And, she mused in a flash of rusty humor, his tactic had worked. Her fingers, twisted in the material of his shirt, were the only things holding her up. Any more relaxed, she'd ooze off the bridge into San Francisco Bay.

  "Ma'am, are you in trouble?"

  Tess looked over Dan's shoulder into the sober expression of a highway patrolman astride a motorcycle. She absently wondered how she could have missed the noise of his approach, glanced into Dan's intense green eyes.

  Boy, was she in trouble.

  "No, Officer. No trouble."

  Her career was over, her finances—not to mention an emergency room cross-your-heart hope-to-die promise—in jeopardy but, hey, she'd shared a hot kiss with a deliciously virile stranger she'd never see again. That wasn't trouble...in some alternate universe. She must have entered the Twilight Zone when she drove onto the bridge.

  Dan pried her fists from his shirt before smiling at the patrolman. "She has hydrophobia and being stuck on the bridge sort of freaked her out. She's fine, now."

  Tess stared at Dan, incredulous. Sweet mercy, this man had a glib tongue.

  "Is that right, ma'am?"

  She glanced between the two men before she nodded.

  The patrolman nodded once. "We'll have this mess moved as soon as possible. In the meantime, try to relax, ma'am."

  Shifting his motorcycle into gear, he rode off, weaving slowly between the parked cars in the direction of the accident in front of them. Tess watched until he was out of sight, her reality check gone. Then, the humor of the situation hit her full force and she laughed.

  She laughed so hard she had to lean against the camper, her arms wrapped around her stomach. "Oh, oh," she gasped, unable to catch a full breath.

  "Tess! Tess, are you all right?"

  What she wouldn't give to bottle this man up and take him home, to be opened for those times when life got her down. It had been too long since she'd laughed, too long since she'd taken the time to feel much of anything. She wiped the tears from her eyes. "I would never have guessed it would be so much fun to be attacked by a Frisbee."

  "You don't want to call the cop back to arrest me, then?"

  "For the kiss, you mean?"

  "Yeah."

  She wasn't exactly blameless for what happened. She'd not only not stopped him from kissing her she’d jumped into the experience with a wholeheartedness that was bewildering. "Forget it. It's simply one more incomprehensible event in an equally incomprehensible day."

  Dan opened his mouth, then shut it on whatever he intended to say.

  Tess didn't think he liked her analysis of what had turned into a mind-searing kiss, but she didn't dare let him do a postmortem on it. It was done. Finished. In no time at all, they'd say good-bye and go their separate ways.

  Amazingly enough it was that last thought which bothered her most because, inexplicitly, she wanted the man to kiss her again. And, this time, she didn’t want him to stop.

  Chapter Two

  "Attention! Prepare for traffic movement. Please return to your cars. Attention!"

  The loudspeaker announcement drew Tess's gaze to the orange highway department truck approaching along the eastbound side of the split-bridge where traffic flowed smoothly. The message repeated as the truck passed the line of stranded cars.

  Tess rose from the webbed chair Dan had positioned near his camper to block the bay from sight. "You were right about not looking at my watch,” she said. “That didn't take as long as I expected."

  Dan picked up her wrist and glanced at the time. "Nope. Only two hours."

  "We haven't—"

  He grinned. "Time flies when you're having fun."

  Time had flown while they basked in the sun and talked about books, movies, sports, and Dan's favorite fishing spots across the country. Somehow, they'd stepped into a world where time was unlimited, leisure the only aim. She hadn't even decided what to say to the men who paid her salary!

  What was wrong with her? Did the blow to her head jar something loose in her brain? Surely, Dan's crooked grins and laughter-filled eyes weren't enough to drag her from her path.

  Yeah? Where was that path when you kissed him?

  Frowning over the question, she watched him untie the leash he'd attached to the truck bumper so his dog could sit in the shade. She sidestepped when the animal lunged in her direction.

  "Colby!" Dan admonished the dog before looking at Tess. "Sorry. He likes you and wants to say good-bye."

  Tess was more apt to believe the shepherd wanted to say bon appétit. With one look at the dog's huge, lolling tongue and bared teeth, she was certain of it. She didn't trust any animal that salivated each time it looked at her. "Bye, Colby," she called from a safe distance.

  Once Dan resettled his pet in the truck cab, he escorted Tess back to her car. "Do you have everything?"

  "All I had were my heels and you put them in my car."

  "Good."

  It was absurd, but she didn’t want to say good-bye. She was entirely too attracted to the man. Despite his dog. Despite their differing attitudes about life. "I—"

  "Do me a favor, Tess." Dan cradled her neck in his warm hand and lightly traced the soreness behind her ear. "Have a doctor look at this bump. I'd rest easier."

  Hesitating, she breathed deeply. He smelled of sea air, sunshine and male, and she had the craziest urge to nuzzle the thrumming pulse in his wrist, to capture his essence. She yearned to take up his incendiary kiss where he'd left off, immerse herself in the demanding heat and passion and promise—

  "Promise?"

  Anything. "Promise."

  "Take care, Tess, and I'll see you later." With one, last bone-melting smile, Dan walked away.

  "Yeah, sure." Watching him go, she fought disappointment. She was more likely to win the fifteen-thousand dollars she needed in tomorrow's lottery than ever lay eyes on Dan McDonald again. He hadn't asked for her telephone number.

  Finally driving at a snail's pace across the bridge, Tess tracked a certain truck and camper as it slipped ahead of her, then dropped behind in the ebb and flow of traffic. Had she believed anything would come from a chance meeting with a stranger?

  Okay. So she'd met a man she could talk to, and he was the most sinfully gorgeous male she'd ever seen. And, yes, he could kiss a girl's stockings off. She wasn't in the market to get her stockings, or anything else, kissed off. There wasn't room for a new man in her life, whatever his kissing talent.

  Besides, her hands would be more than full of men in the next fifteen minutes if she knew her directors. She'd finally located a phone belonging to a couple in the car parked behind hers, placed a call to her secretary telling her she’d be out of touch until she could get to the office, but two hours had passed. Two hours!

  A horn blared beside her. Glancing over to see Dan's wave, she actually felt the muscles relax between her shoulder blades. How did he do that? One sign from him and she unwound like a well-oiled clock.

  She refused to get excited when he followed her to the shopping center parking lot, which was a good thing since, with another wave, he acknowledged her safe delivery and drove around the corner of the building. "And, that's that, Tessa Lynn," she said, bumping the rest of the way back to the real world where she belonged.

  When she hobbled into her office in her stocking feet, her secretary looked up. "You made it." Emily Grossner examined the welt Tess knew was still visible on her face. "Ow! I thought you said you weren't involved in the accident."

  Tess winced at the volume of her voice. "I'll explain later, Em. Please, tell me they're still here."

  "Mr. Webster said they had another meeting."

  Of course, they had a meeting...with the competition. Jeff McNamara, who managed the company's only other shopping center in the San Francisco area and happened to be her CEO's second cousin, was the sole stumbling block to her promotion. Under nor
mal circumstances, she welcomed the challenge of beating the Thorgram Group “good ol' boy” family network. However, these were not normal circumstances.

  "Mr. Rollens is still in your office, though. For the last hour, he's been checking every ten minutes to see if you'd come in." She lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. "I'd say he's more worried about you than angry, if it's any help."

  Unconvinced, Tess considered a strategic retreat, until the image of Dan's final wave and heart-thumping smile popped into her head and subdued the impulse.

  Stop thinking about Dan's effect on your emotional psyche. It’s a waste of energy. Sorting through her phone messages, she made an effort to regain her focus. "Hold my calls, Emily."

  "Does that include your father? He's called twice."

  Her heart sank when she read the last two messages in her hand. "Yes. If he calls back, tell him I'll get back to him as soon as I can."

  All of a sudden, facing her boss seemed easier. It wasn't that she didn't want to speak with her father. She was simply afraid he'd distinguish the edge of panic in her voice. He didn't have to know her shopping center was in trouble or that her promotion was far from a foregone conclusion.

  The last thing she wanted was to worry him about finances when he needed to build his strength for the months to come. His spinal surgery would take place in October if she had to take a second job to pay the appalling down payment the surgeon had demanded. And if she didn't get this promotion—

  Slapping down her own worry, she wished it was possible to rewind time a couple of hours so she could recapture the instant when her life, by necessity, had become simple. Undemanding. She wished she was still stuck on a bridge in the middle of the bay drinking herbal tea with a man with laughing green eyes and a wicked smile.

  ***

  Dan entered the A Touch of Silk & Satin stockroom and scanned the area. His gaze lingered, hesitated, skimming the piles of exclusive garments that spilled from red, white, and pink-flowered boxes. He was drawn to the rich color of satin, the cool tease of lace. The heat of silk.