, defined luxury at its most discreet. But since it was an independent, as opposed to one of the luxury chains, it didn't usually cater to highflying business travelers.
"Somehow I would have pegged you for more the Ritz-Carlton type." Lauren referred to the opulent neoclassical hotel on Broad that looked like a vision of the Pantheon on steroids.
"If I want to be surrounded by white marble, I can go to the White House."
She watched him drop his keys on the side table by the door. Even Lauren, who was hardly a home furnishings guru, recognized the fine woodworking and curved lines of the Biedermeier piece. "Not bad accommodations," she volunteered.
Sebastian looked around with a more jaded eye. "Trust me, after a while, all hotel rooms look alike."
"Easy for someone to say who's used to spending over two hundred dollars a night," Lauren scoffed.
"Easy for someone to say who's used to spending over two hundred days a year in hotel rooms."
Lauren was incredulous. "Really?"
"Really."
Lauren blinked. It made sense that someone in his position had to travel, but to be that rootless? "Don't you get lonely?"
Sebastian shrugged. "It's not like there's anyone to miss."
Her heart immediately skipped a beat.
"Though I do miss…" He paused.
"You miss?" she prompted nervously.
He looked up without focusing on anything in particular. "I miss a sense of home and the security and peacefulness that comes with it."
"You mean DC?"
Sebastian glanced her way and laughed quietly. "No, I have a place in the country. When I'm there, I get to be a curmudgeonly hermit to my heart's content."
"But if you're all by yourself, aren't you still lonely?"
Sebastian thought a moment. "There can be contentment in being alone."
Lauren winced. "But don't you want more than contentment? Don't you ever yearn for warmth, companionship, laughter?"
It sounded so tempting, especially coming from Lauren Jeffries. Yet, the old demons were strong. "You know, my daddy used to say that sometimes we get what we deserve."
"Please, that sounds like something out of Dante or Tennessee Williams," she said with exasperation. "But, still, get real. Of course you deserve more … just look at you. You're handsome, sophisticated, successful."
Sebastian arched his eyebrows. "I like the sound of this."
Lauren was about to give him his comeuppance for that smarty-pants remark when she suddenly realized that although Sebastian Alberti might display the trappings of wealth, he never bragged about his position. If anything, he was tight-lipped, modest to a fault. Which immediately reminded her of something he'd said casually just a few minutes ago.
"You've been to the White House, haven't you? And I don't just mean to take the tour."
Sebastian shrugged. "Maybe once or twice. It was no big deal." True, he had managed to track down a Klimt, which had originally belonged to a member of the White House Counsel's family, and which the Nazis had illegally confiscated during the war. And then there was the other time when he had successfully completed a behind-the-scenes negotiation regarding disputed artworks in a traveling exhibit from the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna.
These actions hadn't garnered any publicity. In fact, that was the whole point.
"'No big deal' you say," Lauren scoffed. "Why do I think there's a lot more to that simple statement than you're letting on?" She walked to the window. Talk about a million-dollar view.
"Contrary to your reporter's inclinations, darlin', sometimes a simple statement is just that—a simple statement."
Lauren raised an eyebrow and pivoted around to regard him. "I don't know. Somehow I don't think there's anything simple about you, Sebastian Alberti."
"And you, Lauren Jeffries? Is there anything simple about you?" Sebastian stepped toward her. The window was open and a light evening breeze billowed the sheer curtain at her feet. The lamp on the table cast a glow around her lithe body, making her seem ethereal—and oh, so very real at the same time.
Lauren watched him draw nearer, her own feet rigidly affixed to the Aubusson carpet. He reached for her hand. Her fingers trembled in his. In fear. In anticipation. "What do you mean?" she managed to ask as her gaze locked onto his sensual mouth.
He lightly brushed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. She shivered in response. "What I mean is, are you what you seem?" He rubbed back and forth.
Lauren nodded, her whole sensory system zeroing in on the touch of his skin on hers. "Yes, yes," she sputtered. "I'm exactly what I seem." She swallowed the hard-boiled egg-size lump in her throat. "Don't you believe me?"
He cupped her jaw and let his fingers trail down her slender neck. "I almost could." He angled his head this way and that. She looked so open, so vulnerable. His conscience kicked in, in response. "I'm not keeping you from work at the paper, am I?"
She shook her head. "Miraculously, today was a slow news day. If you don't count you, that is." Not likely. "And the hydrant story I'll take care of with a few phone calls tomorrow and Monday."
How was he supposed to do the noble thing and not take advantage of her when she was making herself so available? Friends didn't exploit friends, he was pretty sure of that. But could he really categorize what he was feeling right now as friendship? He'd try. "You've just suffered a traumatic experience. Maybe you should just get some rest?"
Lauren felt a surge of disbelief. Was he suddenly rejecting her? Now that she had agreed to come back to his room because she couldn't stay at her place, but also because—my God—the guy was drop-dead gorgeous, not to mention brave, charming and had lips that could make more music than Louis Armstrong's trumpet? It wasn't possible.
It was time for her to step up to the plate. She put her small but extremely competent—and right now, extremely forceful—hand on his chin and turned his face to her. "So call me crazy, but I figure you want me to kiss you?"
Sebastian peered down at her hand. But he didn't move. If anything, he leaned farther into her grasp. "Kissing would be nice."
"Just nice?" She spread her hand over his cheek.
He smiled into her palm, and Lauren could feel the corner of his mouth press into her skin. "It depends on how it's done."
She brought her other hand up, at the same time rising on tiptoe. She wet her lips and tasted, tasted the full sweetness of his lower lip with a soft kiss, then a firmer bite. Firm enough to have him parting his mouth so that she could dip her tongue inside while her lips mated with his for a long, long sigh.
And when she was done, and the black spots were clearing from the back of her eyeballs, Lauren tentatively withdrew. Not that she wanted to pull away, mind you. What she really wanted was to rip away at that perfectly tailored suit of his, loosen his designer tie and spray the tiny white buttons of his dress shirt across a carpet whose net value exceeded her outstanding college loans by a factor of ten or so. "So how was that for 'done'?" she asked.
He caught one of her hands in his and brushed his lips across her knuckles. Lauren looked into his eyes, and believe it, care was the last thing she saw in his dilated pupils.
"I'd say that was done perfectly." He flipped her hand over and left a trail of small kisses along the inside of her wrist.
Lauren inhaled loudly. Now for stage two. "But not enough, right?"
Sebastian held himself still. "Are you sure you want to do this? You don't strike me as the kind of woman who just follows men to their hotel rooms. For that matter, I'm not the kind of man who invites women to his hotel room, either."
His admission moved her even more than his kiss, and that was saying something. Now she knew for sure that Sebastian didn't enter into things casually—and when he did, it was with all his heart. He so deserved more than mere contentment. And come to think of it, so did she.
For a woman who had had the guts to get out of the neighborhood and prove herself professionally all on her own, Lauren had played
it safe on the personal front. Okay, she'd had the good sense to break off her engagement, but where had she dared to tread since then? Nowhere. She'd ignored her feelings and guarded her emotions. Well, she knew that now was the time to spread her wings with a man who needed to find solid ground. Talk about an oxymoron come to life.
"Do I want to do this?" She repeated his earlier question. Was she really going to jump into bed with a man the first day she'd met him? With only a handsome face and a great body, the answer was an emphatic no. But with a man who had so much to give and deserved to receive just as much in return? You bet.
Lauren raised her eyes and answered frankly, "You and I both know it's more than a question of want." And then because she was brave, though nervous at the same time, she couldn't resist masking her acute emotions with a burst of sarcasm. "Let's just say the high-quality furnishings, idiosyncratic room configuration and high-speed DSL connection have turned me into a wanton sex slave."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow.
Her humor was a shock, until he comprehended that it was her safety mechanism. She was willing to take the plunge, willing to take the risk despite the circumstances. And her fearlessness made him disregard the obvious objections—that they'd only met, that they were working together, and that she was even possibly involved with the crime. Because she was right. This was more than a question of mere wanting. This was connecting in a way he had never dared.
Lauren slumped with impatience. "Oh, please, would you just jump my bones now—as in pronto? Otherwise, I'll be forced to find something else to do that can help slake all this pent-up sexual energy. I mean, do you really want to watch me unpack my bag and lay out my clothes in a regimentally neat fashion in one of the dresser drawers, only to be followed by me writing out a list of phone calls—in order of emotional importance in addition to area code—that I should make to people to let them know where to reach me in case of an emer—"
"Lauren?" Sebastian nuzzled the side of her neck before placing his mouth next to her ear.
"Yes?" she asked in a strangled voice as she let her head fall back.
He bit her lobe, and she couldn't have told you the metropolitan Philly area code if her life depended on it. "You can call later," he said as his hand snaked under the edge of her sweater and came into contact with her midriff. He ran his fingers across her ribs and eased them to the bottom of her silky bra.
Lauren grabbed his shoulders. "No problem. Only kiss me, would you? Let me know I'm doing the right thing?"
And he did. He started fiercely, but finished gently. "Do you know now?" he asked, and she leaned into him, giving her answer with the touch of her body. He ran his thumb along the curved top of her bra cup. His calluses lightly abraded her skin in a way that sent a snap, crackle and pop from her toenails on upward, only stopping in key, very key, spots. "How about you just relax?"
She gasped. "I don't think that's possible." She pulled her head back. "Though maybe if you kissed me again, it might work."
"Anything to oblige the lady." And he took her face in his hands and offered a kiss with so much fervor that had Lauren begging for more.
And he gave it. His other hand magically disappeared under her sweater, as well. Even more magically, her sweater disappeared—over her head with only a minor snag when the turtleneck caught on the tip of her nose.
Lauren stood there naked from the waist up, except for a beige bra that she had bought at thirty percent off at Kohl's. It wasn't the newest thing under the sun, and the elastic bits were getting that ruffled, tired look. "I realize my underwear isn't exactly the glam, seductive type, but I wasn't exactly anticipating this little escapade when I dressed myself for work this morning. And I'm hopeless when it comes to washing my bras in those little mesh lingerie bags," she babbled.
"Well, if you're that unhappy, we'll just have to do something about it," Sebastian said. And with a dexterity that spoke highly of his motor skills and his personal knowledge of the ins and outs—though technically, more the offs—of lingerie, he swiftly unfastened her bra and tossed it over the back of the velvet-covered chair near the table. "There, you see? No need to worry about little mesh laundry bags." He let his eyes focus on her breasts for a long, drawn-out moment before raising his hands to her trousers. "What is a little mesh laundry bag anyway?"
Lauren gazed down and watched him undo the button at her waistband. "It seems you're the one doing all the work."
He stilled his fingers. "You have any objections?"
She actually gave his question some thought. "Strangely enough, no. It's really very liberating to let someone else take charge." She paused. "You realize that any minute now, I'm likely to be completely naked?"
"And what a pleasant realization that is." With one hand holding the loose waistband, Sebastian used the other to unzip her trousers. Then he slipped them over her hips.
I really must ease up on the ginger ales, Lauren thought immediately when the material didn't fall effortlessly to the floor the way it seemed it should. "Sorry My hips are kind of large for my body—a tendency of all the Jeffries women, you see. I tried jogging, but that just seemed to make my calves bigger," she prattled self-consciously, looking across the room and wondering if the colorful print on the opposite wall was a genuine Chagall. Something about getting naked in front of an impossibly sexy man was bringing out insecurities that she thought she'd buried in her teenage years. The inner chubby girl seemed to be resurfacing.
She looked down and was startled to see Sebastian now kneeling in front of her. In pulling her pants down to her knees he had simultaneously taken down her underpants, something she hadn't noticed until this moment. "Gee, you're quick."
He grazed his lips over her hipbone and kissed it lightly. "If all the Jeffries women have hips like yours, you must be the fantasy of the whole male population of Philadelphia. And, darlin', while the pleasure is certainly mine to gaze on you this way, the idea is for you to have even more pleasure." He moved his face to her stomach and rubbed his mouth back and forth before breathing in the warmth of her skin. "So I hope this is not too quick."
"No, not too quick," she croaked as his mouth drifted southward toward wilder territory. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back.
"Sit," he said, and pooled her pants around her ankles.
She blinked her eyes open. "Sit?"
"Yes, in the chair behind you. I need to finish up here."
Lauren glanced down. She felt awkward about investigating too closely, which was really ridiculous because it was her body, after all. But, okay, her awkwardness was what it was, and she looked down. "Oh, right, my clogs. They're in the way." She reached back to grab the arm of the chair before sitting down. The velvet fabric felt soft against her bottom.
Sebastian quickly disposed of her shoes and socks, and the pants came sailing off with ease. At which point Lauren was acutely aware that she was completely naked and Sebastian had yet to remove a stitch of clothing, let alone undo his top button and loosen his tie. "Maybe it's your turn now?" she inquired about the obvious.
"Actually, I was thinking it's more yours." He leaned forward and spread her thighs apart, and Lauren found herself doing mental math to figure out when she had last shaved her legs. He reached up with one hand and feathered the triangle of darker blond curls between her legs. She stopped worrying about shaving. He probed with his thumb and found the slit. Slowly, he inserted the edge of his finger and circled the entrance to her vagina. "I think it's time to finish things here," he said, and plunged his finger inside her.
Lauren just about rocketed off the chair. And just about died when she saw his head go in the direction of his exploring hand.
She'd been expecting to have sex, but not this. THIS. Guys in South Philly—at least the guys she knew—did not go down.
"Sebastian," Lauren gasped. His tongue followed the path that his fingers had taken. She could feel a rosy blush rise up her body. "This is velvet."
Sebastian flicked his tongue
back and forth over Lauren's clitoris and she grabbed the arms of the chair to keep from sliding off. "This is more than velvet," he growled softly. "It's apricots and honey, it's sweet ambrosia." He sucked her sensitive bud into his mouth, at the same time thrusting more forcefully with his finger.
Lauren heard herself panting. "No, the chair. It's velvet. I don't want to—" And then she couldn't protest anymore because a contraction hit her body with a force that knocked the words from her lips, the thoughts from her brain.
So much so that it was in a kind of a drugged haze that she figured out that he was carrying her to the bed. Somehow the brocade cover and Austrian down duvet were stripped clear, and she was lying on cool, ironed sheets. Even more essentially, Sebastian was also stripped of his suit and tie and shirt and shoes and socks. It all happened so quickly that she didn't have a chance to see if he wore boxers or briefs.
"See, are you happy? No more velvet." He slid the naked length of his body next to hers.
Lauren stared. Well, who wouldn't? The man was downright gorgeous, muscular in all the right places, and flat and angular in the appropriate others. A light dusting of dark hair formed a triangle across his powerful chest, and Lauren reached out and touched it. She drew her fingers back and forth between his brown nipples. He hissed when her fingers abraded his skin. She must remember that for later, not now. Now she was too anxious to linger.
Instead, she let her hand travel down his stomach, following the narrowing line of his chest hair that led to the darker thatch at the top of his legs. And where his erection was standing proudly. She reached out and circled it. Heat radiated from the smooth skin. And with her fingers wrapped tightly around him, Lauren slowly worked her hand from the base to the tip. Her index finger toyed with the drop of liquid that pearled at the top.
Sebastian breathed in sharply.
"I'm not so sure about the velvet part," Lauren said coyly. She worked her hand up and down his rigid member.
Sebastian rolled over on top of her, his body crashing hers, her hand still wedged between them. Not only was Lauren's hand touching him intimately, the back of it was pressed into her most sensitive area. He ground his hips into hers, and her hand worked its magic on both of them. She should have felt embarrassed. Instead she felt wanton, totally turned on. She brought her mouth to his and kissed him in a way that mimicked the ferocious interplay already occurring lower in their bodies. To say the effect was erogenous was like saying the Hoover Dam was a water stopper.
THE TRUTH ABOUT HARRY Page 7