by Anita DeVito
He rolled her onto the pillows, their legs tangling in the fray.
“Your lamp,” she said as the light flickered.
“Got another.” He tugged at the little spaghetti straps covering what he wanted. “Take this off before I tear it from your body.”
She took a fistful of hair in each hand and lifted his head. “Make me.”
He made mush out of the spaghetti straps and nearly had her upside down to get the shorts. They wrestled and nipped and teased their way off the bed. She sat on his chest and pried the cotton off his long legs.
“I need a condom. In the drawer. Now.” He nearly growled in desperation when she stopped moving. “Don’t stop now.”
“Are you clean, Tom? I’m not a naïve girl. Tell me straight. Are you clean?”
Those amazing eyes of hers looked into his soul. He never had sex without a condom. Never. Other birth control or not. He had blood work done annually—insurance required it—but he knew, absolutely. “Yes but…”
She ground against him, her wet heat curling his toes. “But what?”
This wasn’t a time to be rational. It was on the tip of his tongue. If sex was just for tonight, just for now, then he wanted the condom.
Pressing back into her heels, she licked his shaft, pausing to tease his head. The breath was driven from his body. “I’m clean, too. I use an IUD, so we’re safe. Let it just be us tonight.”
He rolled them over, kicked a chair out of the way, and came into her from behind. It was just him against her, no latex between them. Her body was hot and wet and welcoming. He thrust deep and nearly came immediately. It shook him, the way he wanted her. Buying time, he wrapped his arm around her, going between her legs to play with her little button. The sound she made had his blood surging. She went over quickly, and he pressed in deep, wanting to feel every ripple of pleasure. Then he began to move again, driving her relentlessly over the cliff and into the long, deep chasm. When she would have collapsed to the floor completely spent, he let himself fly and followed her.
His head sat heavy on her shoulder, but he kept his weight on his arms. As much as he wanted to, he weighed too much to just collapse on her.
“I’m just going to sleep here,” she said drowsily.
“You’ll get cold.”
“Don’t care.”
“Come on. Up.” He withdrew, which earned him a malcontented groan. “You’re forcing me to be manly.” He climbed to his feet, squatted down, and lifted a hundred and twenty pounds of deadweight.
She snuggled his throat. “What are you doing?”
“Putting you in my bed. I need sleep.”
“Hmm. Me, too.” She shifted out of his arms.
“What are you doing?” He fought for possession and lost.
“Going back to the princess room.”
“You can sleep here. My bed is soft and comfortable, and, bonus, I’m here.”
“So tempting.” She shifted until her feet touched the floor. “Get in bed. I’ll tuck you in.”
Tom tried to scowl, to intimidate the naked woman into his bed. Her bare ass kept distracting him. Even as he stroked her, his eyes kept slamming shut.
“In you go.”
He made a grab for her when she leaned over, but she pinned his hands and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. She whispered something to him in Spanish, righted the remaining lamp, and plunged the room into darkness.
“I’ll be here,” he said, succumbing to the peace that welcomed him. “If you need anything.”
Chapter Ten
Wednesday, April 12 twelve-thirty p.m.
Peach stood in the immaculate room decorated with perfect taste and knew her nightmare had found her again. She had heard once that you couldn’t say “dream” in a dream. Quick as she could, she opened her mouth and formed the word, but the six-panel oak door opened faster, and in he walked.
Anderson Bingham stood just over six feet, with hazel eyes and sandy brown hair. His build had been fully paid for and was insured for a cool million. He wore his trademark dark suit. He had been her boss, then her lover. Now, he was her Kryptonite.
“I’m glad to see you back.” He came in like he owned the place, which he would when Mommy and Daddy went to that big yacht club in the sky. He closed half the distance, his fancy shoes clicking with each step, and then he stood. Watching. Waiting. A lion about to take down an antelope. “It has been too long. I’ve missed you, Em. Just the way you’ve missed me.”
Discipline kept her from reacting. Her time in D.C. haunted her just as the nickname did. She was E.M. Morales. E.M. not Em. She’d come to despise it all.
“You’re so rigid, Em. Always so serious.” Hazel eyes swept up and down the length of her, setting off her warning system. Showing weakness was not an option. He ate fear for lunch, flossed with insecurity.
She went for bored and unimpressed. “Anderson.”
He circled her; she kept her gaze straight ahead. Strong, skilled hands went to her shoulders. “You have knots. Lucky for you, I know my way around knots.”
She didn’t want it to feel good. There was nothing but contempt for the way his fingers found those tight muscles and, yeah, that was the spot.
“You see? You need me. Your subconscious knows. It’s time you put hurt feelings aside and call me. You know I can make all of your troubles disappear.”
She was tempted, very tempted, because he could. Anderson had the money and the connections to dismantle F&F Construction. But he wouldn’t. Not without a price. “I stepped in that trap once. I’ll be damned if I step in it twice.”
Anderson pressed a kiss to her neck. His cologne embodied the man…expensive, exclusive. It filled her senses, and her body heightened. “Does this feel like a trap?”
Old habits die hard, she thought as her breasts swelled, yearning for his attention.
“I did apologize. I sent you a gift to show how sorry I was.” He bowed his head, tracing the ridge of her cheek with his lips. Close, his scent was the air she breathed. She couldn’t think for the havoc he wreaked. “What am I going to do with my stubborn little Em?”
She was in trouble. His hands captured her face, holding her while he reminded her what she walked away from. What she could have again. While her body celebrated the man coming to his senses and realizing what a mistake he’d made, some little sane part in the back of her head screamed. Her hand flailed out, found something solid, and smashed the Lothario in the head. Glass shattered, and Peach sat up, gasping for air as she searched the room for Anderson. She blinked, working to make sense of the scene.
The dream had morphed. The office was gone, replaced by a bedroom resplendent with a big bed washed in sunlight. She sat in the middle of the bed wearing her black sleep shirt, covered to the hips in a fluffy white comforter. She knew this place. Counting breaths, she forced her racing mind to slow. There it was. She was in Tom’s house.
Drenched in sweat, she shivered even with the blanket. She finger-brushed her hair back, wincing when something bit her. Her left hand was her usual sunkissed bronze while her right hand was painted crimson red.
“Dream, dream, dream. Time to wake up, Peach.” Still her hand was red, and she shivered beneath the cover. Moving her thumb was a razor blade against bone. “This isn’t good.” She rolled to the edge of the bed. It was too late to save the snow-white cover, dotted as it was with scarlet drops. The water glass that had sat next to the bed was on the floor, broken. She saw it in time and stepped wide, avoiding the jagged shards. Holding her hand up, she ran to the bathroom. Her eyes filled with tears, making it more difficult to deal with the cut. “Fucking Anderson.”
“Who is Anderson?” Tom asked from the door. His eyebrows jumped at the sight of blood, then he sauntered in and captured her hand. “I think you have something in there.” He took over the first aid without asking permission.
“I broke the water glass.” She blinked against tears welling in her eyes, but a few strays escaped. It wasn’t the cut, whic
h she could take; it was the dream that, night after night, had the man crawling back to her. He didn’t want her. He deceived her. It was that simple. Didn’t her subconscious get it? It would be pathetic to want that man back.
She looked at the man bent studiously over her hand. His dark brown hair was longer on the top and curled in soft loops. Close as he was, she smelled his shampoo and the underlying aroma she knew intimately. She inhaled deeply, replacing the scent of Anderson Bingham with Dr. Thomas Riley.
He looked up, a question in his eyes as he caught her smelling him.
She fought the wave of heat that crept into her face. “There’s blood on the bedspread. Sorry.”
“Come to my bathroom. I have tweezers and bandages in there.” He kept her hand cradled as he led her into his room. She had to appreciate his calm, low-key manner. He didn’t question, chastise, or baby her, which she appreciated, but it would be okay if he babied her, just a little. She followed him into his room, past the spilled books and broken lamps, twisted pajamas and tossed pillows. What remained of her midnight workout gear hung limply from his bedpost. In his spacious bathroom, he lifted her onto the counter and soon was once again at work. “I think you got lucky. It’s in a fleshy part.” He tugged a piece out, making her flinch. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to be careful. It’s really jammed in there.”
“You’re not hurting me. I appreciate the help.” Her voice broke as if she’d been crying. She cleared it and tried again. “I’ll replace the bedspread.”
“Whatever. I think I got it. That’s the last piece. Let me clean it and see if it will stop bleeding. I can run you over to Doc if you need a stitch or two.” He dug through the kit for Band-Aids. “Are you going to tell me who Anderson is?”
“Peach?” Poppy called from the hallway.
Oh, she’d never been so happy to hear his voice. “Just a minute, Poppy,” she called over her shoulder then turned back to Tom. “Just slap a Band-Aid on it. I need to go. Poppy will want his morning coffee. Is there a place I can make it?”
“It’s afternoon, and he’s already had it. Let me finish cleaning you up and we’ll go to the kitchen. You must be hungry.”
“Peach? Did you pack my magnifying glass? I want to read the Sports.” Poppy’s voice grew louder, clearer.
“Oh God.” She pushed off the counter, ripping her hand out of his grip.
“Hey! I’m not done.”
She ignored his complaint and scrambled to keep her grandfather from walking in on the remnants of their early morning activities, but she wasn’t fast enough.
“I left it in the living room under the window. The sun was bright, and I used it on the comics.” He stood in the doorway, hands on his hips, talking to the post wearing the purple sports top.
She skidded to a stop on the threshold; Tom bumped her from behind. He chuckled, and she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Her elbow in his gut turned his laugh into an elongated cough.
Poppy looked toward Tom. “Did you see it, Tom?”
She silently scampered to the bed, right behind her hastily discarded clothing. “Sorry, Poppy, I don’t think we packed it. With everything that happened, we missed it.”
“I have a set in my lab you can use.” Tom stepped over the mess, going past Poppy to the door. “If we missed anything else, just let us know. It’s a big house. We probably have what you need.”
Peach watched, astonished at Tom’s smooth handling of the situation. Poppy followed his voice or maybe the big shadow he made in the afternoon light. Tom pointed to Poppy, gave her a “thumbs up,” and then led her grandfather out the door. Her grandfather turned back, signed an “okay,” and pointed to Tom. She trailed after them as they talked, dumbfounded.
“Did Carolina show you around?” Tom asked, taking her grandfather’s elbow.
“Oh, yes. She said she was going to rearrange the family room. Please tell her not to. I have been legally blind for several years. I will be fine.”
Tom picked the cane from the chair where it hung in his living room, handing it to the older man. “I’ll tell her, but she’s not going to listen. Would you like another cup of coffee?”
Poppy took the cane, using it sparingly as he stepped around the furniture. “You read my mind. It is very good.”
“Family recipe.”
Peach stood in the hallway as they left the living room. Bandaged, barefoot, and bewildered. What the hell was happening?
Peach followed Carolina across the sun-filled courtyard, thinking that she epitomized a woman: graceful, competent, and beautiful. No movements were wasted, but each one had a little touch, had an intangible flair. It would be very easy to be very jealous of Carolina.
Except Carolina glanced over her shoulder and flashed a conspirator’s grin. “What are we hunting?”
“An embezzler.” Her plan to rent a car and return to Cleveland was derailed by her sleeping until mid-day. A shower and a brunch later, it was two in the afternoon. Then Carolina suggesting a little fishing expedition. “I got this feeling—”
“Oh, say no more. I know that feeling, and it’s always right. My office is just inside here.” They walked in one of the white doors that surrounded the courtyard. It was the one closest to Tom’s suite.
“Your rooms are upstairs?” Peach asked to fill the silence. It was an interesting house, more like three homes all connected to each other.
“Jeb and I have four bedrooms, two baths, and a sitting room. Just like Tom does and Katie and Butch. We’ve done a lot of work to our first floor. When I moved in, Jeb used it as one big man cave slash office. Now we have real offices for his company, and I have a space of my own.” Carolina opened the door to an office and flipped on the lights.
“Okay. I am so jealous.” Peach stared at the wall full of flat screen monitors facing a computer set up that had to rival NASA. One wall was a bank of windows covered with privacy shades. The other short wall contained a dry erase board and a pull down for a screen. The long wall opposite the windows was covered floor to ceiling in book shelves with thoughtful groupings of books.
“Jeb did this as an engagement present,” Carolina said as she booted up her system.
“Beats the hell out of a ring.” She wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth.
Carolina blushed. “Oh, he gave me a ring, too.” She held out her hand, showing off the brilliant sapphire that nestled against a diamond and sapphire band.
“Uh, congratulations on your wedding. Tom said you and Jeb were just married.”
“Four days now.” Carolina grinned, glowing with happiness.
“Shouldn’t you be on your honeymoon?”
“We leave in a few weeks after my brother returns to duty.” She did a little happy dance in her seat. The machine beeped and got her undivided attention. Her hands flew over the keyboard as her hair fell in her face. The screens began to flicker, and Carolina absently braided her thick mass of hair. “The whole farm is set up with wireless. The password is on the white board. The router is in here, and I’m hard wired in, so…I’m faster. What do you have? What can I do?”
Peach pulled her head together and went to one of the glass tables. She took her laptop out of the bag and, while it started up, retrieved the portable hard drive. “Three men went into the lake on Saturday morning. Tom’s work is leaning toward sabotage. To what end? My hypothesis is that only one of them was never meant to come out. My uncle was a great man to Poppy and me but to the rest of the world? He was no one. Jack Hawthorne was the manager for the project. He said who worked and who didn’t. Who was paid and who wasn’t.”
“An important man,” Carolina added.
“In the context of the project, an important man. A respected man. Outside that context? I don’t know.”
Carolina nodded. “I’m on him. Who else? You said three men.”
“Joe Carter. Low-level engineer. From what I heard, a lot of the men weren’t surprised he went down. Rookie, no common sense, two left feet. That sor
t of thing.”
“Do you have anything on them? Social security number? Full name?”
Peach handed her the hard drive. “I copied files from Hawthorne’s secretary, including payroll. There may be something there. I also have files from the F&F system and left myself a back-door in.”
“Sweet.” Carolina danced in her chair. Her face froze when Peach laughed. “What?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you have this whole goddess thing going—”
“Me?” Surprise was clear in her high-pitched voice and wide eyes.
“I didn’t suspect you for a trouble maker.”
Carolina laughed. “Oh, I’m not. That’s Katie. You’re going to like her.”
Tom worked in his laboratory, feeling oddly alone. Carolina had offered to let Peach work in her office, and Peach accepted before he could offer his. Here, in his home, with the heavy gate and state-of-the-art security system, he didn’t have to worry about somebody knocking him unconscious. He should have been fine.
But he wasn’t.
He fell into his leather chair and stared across the room.
The silence was deafening.
Jeb came in the door at the opposite end of the lab. His boots echoed as he marched across on the concrete floor. “That girlfriend of yours is trouble.”
“I told you, she’s not my girlfriend.”
He tossed a folder onto Tom’s desk. “She’s ex-military. Air Force. A graduate of the Citadel. Served oversees and then was honorably discharged.”
He picked up the file and opened it. “That doesn’t sound like trouble.”
“She had just started her second tour when she was suddenly gone. There’s more to that story, but it’s buried deep.”
“Esmeralda Martha Morales.”