He wasn’t her therapist, and her insecurities were none of his business. She’d made it clear they weren’t going to get involved. Given he was still recovering from a divorce, he shouldn’t try getting close to anyone, either.
He got up from the table. “Why don’t we see what the book of rules has to say?”
“We wouldn’t want to break any.”
He grabbed the book from the desk and brought it to the table room service had wheeled in with their breakfast.
He opened a few pages and got past the resort directory, check-out time, etc. “Here we go. ‘No nudity or sexual expression in public areas of Eros’ Retreat except for the health center, the gardens, and the pool area at the following times: 5:00 a.m. to 7:00 a.m.’”
“For guys who are early risers, I guess,” she said as she lifted her coffee cup.
“That’s what I call a morning workout.” He read some more. “‘Also 5:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m. and midnight to 2:00 a.m.’”
“We’ve missed the early show,” she said. “Maybe cocktail hour.”
“And then, there’s the Barn.” He turned a page and found a picture of the outside of the building and a diagram of the inside. Areas were labeled the Forum, the Baths, Theaters 1 through 6, and a similar number of Dungeons.
He pushed the book over toward her. “Tell me what you make of this.”
“Let’s see. There’s fine print.” She read for a moment. “The Forum appears to be a gathering place. The Baths is a huge hot tub. The Dungeons…well…I think you can guess.”
“Kink?”
“Whips and chains, it appears. Now Theaters. Looks as if you can go and watch or be watched.”
“Voyeurism.”
“Or exhibitionism,” she added.
Interesting. Not that he wouldn’t mind trying the other things if she wanted to. But watching real fucking—not the cheesy stuff in porn—while he did all the same things with Désirée could be a real turn-on.
“You want to try some of this?” he said, his imagination starting to go wild.
“We wouldn’t be getting the full Eros’ Retreat experience if we don’t.”
“We’d better finish our breakfast. We’re going to need the energy.”
…
Eros’ Retreat sits on two acres of what used to be a nineteenth-century farm and the home of the fabulously wealthy Horace Wilcox and his family. Although Wilcox had made his fortune in railroads and mining, as did most of the century’s Robber Barons, he fancied himself a Man of the Land. Though most of the property was sold and subdivided, enough is left to make Eros’ Retreat just that—a place to retire from the everyday world to enjoy pampering and delights for all the senses.
Rae sat on a chaise by the pool, a yellow-lined pad of paper in her lap, and worked on her article. It was turning out better than she’d hoped. She obviously hadn’t forgotten how to write informative and entertaining copy. Phil would be proud of her, and she’d be proud of herself. Coming here with Nate had been a big risk, but it would pay off in her professional life.
A photographer from the magazine would join them later, but for now, she could relax and watch Nate swim laps. He moved gracefully through the water, his strong arms pulling with every stroke. Sleek and beautiful. She could hardly have picked a more glorious example of masculinity. And to think he’d made love to her through the night and would again over and over until they left.
She sighed. Part happy and part wistful. She only had him for the week.
Which was just as well. Relationships didn’t work, at least for the women of her family. And if they appeared to work, they could get downright dangerous. No matter what, she would not repeat her mother’s life. But she did have her career, and if that brought really great sex with it, great. More fodder for her work.
The main house serves as the center of the resort, featuring rooms that have been lovingly restored and include every modern amenity. There are also more modern wings and guest houses that will set a sensation seeker’s wallet back a princely sum. Worthwhile for the wealthy and couples with very special events to celebrate.
On the other side of the pool, a woman had started watching Nate swim. How could she not, really? He was such an amazing specimen. If Rae were close enough, she could probably see the woman’s pupils dilate as he approached and then swam away.
The woman had short hair, long legs, and a lithe body shown off by her bikini bathing suit. Tall and svelte, she was everything Rae was not, and she didn’t have to plaster herself with makeup to look glamorous. After a bit, the woman made a graceful dive into the pool and started doing laps not far from Nate.
They were going to visit the Barn later, and things would get kinky then. If public nudity and sex were allowed in some of the public areas for part of the day, what went on in that very private enclave? The descriptions had given only an idea. Did it include other people? Rae might as well be honest with herself. She meant other women for him. One man was plenty for her.
But what about him? If another woman expressed interest, would he expect her to share? They didn’t have any real relationship. Anything went at a place like this, right? Like accepting advances from another woman.
Just then, Nate and the other woman managed to swim into each other. Or to be fair, the woman did more of an oops than he did. They both stood, chest-deep, in the water, close enough to her side of the pool for her to hear their conversation, if any.
“Sorry,” the woman said. “I guess I strayed out of my lane.”
“No problem,” he said. “I was pretty much done, anyway.”
The woman put her hand on his arm. “Please don’t leave on my account.”
“Not at all. Have a good swim.” Nate swam to the end of the pool and used the ladder to climb out. When he got to the chaise next to Rae’s, he picked up his towel and dried himself off. She tried not to watch too closely—and totally failed. “You should take a swim.”
“Too crowded,” she said.
He sat on the chaise, close enough so they could touch easily. “You noticed my friend.”
“Did you get her name?”
“Nope.” He grinned. Pleased by what he perceived as jealousy, no doubt.
Like hell she was going to explain to Nate that tall women who could pull off elegance without trying always made her feel inadequate and that she might have gone for a swim if she didn’t have to worry about her makeup.
“So, how’s the article coming?” he asked.
“Pretty good,” she answered.
“Shame you can’t use your laptop.”
“A laptop takes pictures. I had to beg just to use it in my room. If Ms. Nelson found it out here, she’d probably throw it in the pool.”
“Good old Ms. Nelson,” he said. “Not exactly Miss Congeniality.”
Note for article, she wrote. Be sure to include strict rules for guest behavior.
“Could I ask you something?” he said. “It’s kind of personal.”
“We can’t hide things from each other. We’re going to be here together a whole week.” He was probably going to chide her for her jealousy. Okay, so maybe she’d admit to it, and they could have a productive discussion. Come up with some ground rules. All very adult and open-minded.
“All right, here it goes.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you going to wear makeup all the time?”
What? “A girl—”
“‘A girl should look her best under all circumstances.’ So you said.” He held up a hand. “Don’t you think your boyfriend could see you without it every once in a while?”
“You’re not my boyfriend. We’re just together for the week.”
“Hook-Up Man. I forgot.”
He didn’t sound overly pleased with the term, but he’d agreed to it. “Besides, I’m here as Désirée Knight. I have a reputation to live up to.”
“You don’t have any reputation on my account, do you?”
Little did he know her reputation was mostly for his benefit. If her boss,
Phil, had let her come here alone, she could have faded into the surroundings and just observed. But no. She’d had to bring Nate along, and now she had to pretend to be someone she wasn’t for the entire week. He wouldn’t have come with her real self, and she wasn’t about to show him.
“Hm?” he prompted.
“I forgot the question.”
“Why can’t you let down your hair and be yourself?” he said.
“I am being myself.” She gestured like the woman who turned the letters around on Wheel of Fortune. “Désirée Knight.”
“Okay,” he said. “Never mind.” But she could tell he wasn’t happy. But why? Surely a guy who looked like him wanted a glamorous woman, not Rae’s normally mousy self.
They sat in silence while she continued to write. With him so close, her mind didn’t work all that well, and she was sure she’d end up having to throw away half of what she wrote.
“That doesn’t look very comfortable,” he said.
“I don’t have much of a choice.”
“And your laptop isn’t set up properly in the room,” he said. “That desk is the wrong height. You should have something that would sit on your lap while you’re in a chair or in bed.”
“I guess that would be nice.”
“And it should be lighter so someone who carries it around as much as you do doesn’t hurt her joints.”
“You’re an expert on computers now?” She actually had no idea what he did. Maybe he was an expert on computers. She should probably find out.
“Never mind.” He huffed. “So, here we are, where things get kinky from five to seven. Say I wanted to have a threesome with you and my swim partner, would that be allowed?”
Her heart sank to somewhere just north of her stomach. “Do you want to?”
He shrugged. “Do you want to do two guys?”
“You’re more than enough lover for me.”
That won her a smile. “Then we’ll leave other people out unless we change our minds.”
Breathing became a whole lot easier all of a sudden.
“All right. I have another question,” he said. “What time’s the photographer getting here?”
“Eleven.”
He glanced at his watch. “An hour from now. That’ll give me some time in the resort boutique.”
“You’re going shopping?”
“For you. If you’re going to role-play, let’s do it all the way. And let’s have it memorialized in pictures for the magazine.”
“Say what?”
“You heard me. Let’s show Désirée Knight in the flesh. Up close and personal.” With that, he grabbed his stuff and left. You might even say he swaggered as he headed back into the resort. Just what did he mean about “in the flesh”? Holy crap. One of the freelance photographers the magazine used would be here in an hour. Instead of photos of the resort facilities, Nate appeared to have something much more personal planned. She needed to find out what Nate was up to and figure out how to deal with it.
…
Thank goodness for stealth and planning ahead. Désirée’s long stay in the bathroom that morning had allowed Nate to sneak into the closet and check the sizes of clothing she wore. He’d only meant to take notes in case he found something here he’d like to buy for her. But now that he had, he could surprise her with a costume for the photo shoot. She liked dressing up. He was just helping out. He’d even noted her shoe size. So she couldn’t claim that what he’d bought at the boutique wouldn’t fit her.
That didn’t mean she wouldn’t fight him, and now she stood in the middle of the room with the bustier in her hand. Staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. Quite to the contrary. This was one of his better ideas.
“You expect me to wear this for pictures?” she demanded.
“It fits with your persona, wouldn’t you say?” Check and mate. If he could pat himself on the back without dislocating something, he’d do it. She could either admit to him now that Désirée was an act, or she could pose for magazine pictures in stilettos, a mini-skirt, and a bustier. Either way would suit him just fine.
In fact, the thought of her dressed up like a porn star made him hot. One way or another, he’d see her in the outfit. If not for the photo shoot, then privately later on. Then he’d get a full view of the thigh-high stockings, garter belt, and thong.
“Come on. You’d wear this in your private life, wouldn’t you?” he said. “I remember you writing a column about dressing up and role-play. You did write that column, didn’t you?”
She glared at him, and he could almost imagine smoke coming out of her ears. “I did.”
He planted his hands on his hips and smiled at her. “You must have done something like this before.”
“I’m not posing for a photographer in my panties,” she said.
“Of course not. That’s why I got the skirt.”
She picked the skirt up off the bed and stared at it. “It’ll cover my crotch, right?”
“With more than a few inches to spare.”
She gave him the evil eye. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”
“Look, you don’t have to wear it.” He sat in the armchair near the lanai door and draped one ankle over the other. “If it embarrasses you—”
“It doesn’t embarrass me,” she said. “But a woman’s lover usually doesn’t want other men to stare at her nearly naked.”
“One, I’m not your lover, remember? I’m just here for the week.” He counted off on his forefinger.
She just stared at him some more.
“Two, you’re not nearly naked.” The middle finger this time. “All the important parts are covered.”
“It’s pretty provocative,” she said.
“And three.” His ring finger. “We agreed not to include anyone else in our relationship, and I trust you.”
She clenched her hands into fists, crushing the skirt. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Actually, I am.” He hadn’t considered that having someone watch them as they posed for suggestive pictures would turn him on, but it did. It might open up a whole new avenue of play—something they could explore.
She stood for a moment, the wheels turning visibly in her mind. He’d issued a dare, and she knew it. Finally, she lifted her chin and stalked into the bathroom. The door might have slammed a bit behind her.
Nate couldn’t help but grin. Whatever followed would be amusing, and it might end up outright erotic.
While he had the chance, he rose and crossed the room. After fishing in his pocket for the small jewelry case, he opened the drawer that held his shorts and prepared to stash the pendant he’d bought at the hotel boutique inside. Instead, for a moment, he snapped open the box and stared at the deceptively simple piece of jewelry. One perfect pearl held in place on a gold chain by a setting of more delicate gold. The necklace didn’t jump out and grab the eye as anything particularly special, but its price tag suggested otherwise. As with everything else here, it was high quality as any discerning eye could tell. Would she notice?
He stashed the box underneath his boxers. He hadn’t bought anything like this for a woman in ages. This piece had simply felt right for Désirée, and he’d found himself wanting to watch her face as she opened it. That sort of feeling could turn dangerous if he let it grow.
Yeah, what had he been thinking? He shut the drawer and did a mental gut check. He could always return the necklace. No damage done.
Before Désirée emerged from the bathroom, a knock came at the door. Nate went to open it and found a tall, lanky man on the other side. Enough paraphernalia hung around his neck to identify him as their photographer.
“Dave Swift.” The man stuck out his hand.
“Nate Winslow,” Nate answered as they shook. “Ms. Knight should be with us in a moment.”
Just then the bathroom door opened, and Désirée appeared. With her makeup and wearing that outfit, she looked pretty damn close to what you might see in an erotic film. She looked absolutely fuc
king amazing, and for a moment, Nate couldn’t speak. He could only stare at her.
“I’m your photographer,” the other man said.
“Dave,” Nate found enough brain capacity to say.
She extended her hand toward Dave and curtseyed. “Désirée Knight. Enchanté monsieur.”
“Right.” Dave grasped her fingers briefly. “Where should I set up?”
“Wherever you want,” Désirée answered. “We’re in your capable hands.”
“We’ll get the best light near the lanai door or out on your deck.” When Dave moved in that direction, Désirée made to follow, but Nate caught her with an arm around her waist.
“You’re only in my hands, remember?” he whispered.
She patted his cheek. “Jealous, mon cher?”
“We had an agreement.”
“Photography only,” she whispered back. Then she eased away from him and followed Dave.
Her feet looked dainty in those shoes and her legs a mile long. Her hips swung, showing off her firm ass. And her breasts appeared ready to pop out of the bustier. Underneath all that, she’d be wearing the garter belt and the itty-bitty panties. Enough to make a saint weep. Of course, all the exposed flesh was making him hard. The photographer had better aim the camera at his upper body, or he’d have to view and veto the pictures.
“Why don’t we take a few shots with you sitting on the bed,” Dave said.
“Hm?” Nate said.
“I meant Ms. Knight,” Dave said.
“Right.” Nate breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t about to get on the bed with Désirée with someone pointing a camera at them.
She sat, crossed her legs, and leaned backward, propping herself up with her hands. The pose did amazing things to Nate’s view of her breasts. And Dave’s, no doubt.
That ought to make him jealous, but oddly the idea that another man could desire his woman made him want to swagger. She wasn’t his, but for this week, they were pretending. He could enjoy a little male pride.
Dave took shot after shot, and Désirée primped and posed, moving this way and that. Putting on a show for both of them and the camera.
“Nice,” Dave said as he worked. “Looking good.”
“I’ll say,” Nate said.
His for the Week Page 4