“All right…what else doesn’t fit?”
“Prentice was wearing an expensive watch and cufflinks. In that age before credit cards, he had a wallet stuffed with cash. None of that was taken.”
“None of it?” I couldn’t hide my surprise.
Caroline shook her head. “Some mugging, right? The cops said that the mugger or muggers must have gotten scared off. But there were plenty of people who didn’t buy that. They speculated that Prentice was the target of a hit man. He’d made no secret that he was planning to use his chairmanship of a Senate committee to go after the heads of organized crime.”
“What do you think?” I asked as we started back toward the Arcadia. Her answer surprised me.
“About the idea that it was a hit?” She shrugged. “No way. A pro would have finished him off with a head shot to be sure that the job was done. I think the most curious detail is that Prentice left Margo Stark’s apartment at 10 p.m. When the doorman told the detectives that, they didn’t believe him at first.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because even in the 1950s, it was assumed that the Senator and Margo were having an affair. That being the case, why would he have left her place at 10 p.m.? Why not stay over and just slip away discretely in the morning? When he was pressed about it, the doorman admitted that Prentice usually did exactly that.”
“That would explain the master bedroom…sort of.”
Caroline frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It’s very masculine in design even though Margo clearly slept in there. Her clothes are in one of the connected dressing rooms. But it wasn’t decorated even with a couple in mind, more like just for a man.”
“Prentice did have a reputation for being a real alpha type, always in charge,” Caroline said. “At any rate, my personal theory is that something happened that night that caused him to alter his usual pattern and leave when he did. Maybe he and Margo had a fight or he could have just suddenly gotten a phone call. Whatever the case, if someone could discover why he walked out of the Arcadia when he did, one of the city’s most mysterious murders might finally be solved.”
“You think the answer could be in the apartment?” I asked.
“Maybe. After the funeral, Margo wasn’t seen in public at all. Word was that she was prostrate with grief. Finally, a few months after Prentice’s death, shortly before Christmas, 1957, she walked out of the Arcadia for the last time. One lone member of the paparazzi, or whatever they were called back then, was still keeping watch across the street from the building. He actually got a photograph of her just as she left. You can see it on-line.”
Caroline fell silent for a moment. I suspected she was picturing that photograph in her mind, trying to understand what it meant. Finally, she sighed and said, “She was an amazing woman who had built a great life for herself but she abandoned everything--the apartment, her career, the world. In a sense, she might as well have died, too.”
“You don’t believe that she was overwhelmed by the loss of the man who may have been the love of her life?”
“You tell me,” Caroline said. “You’re living in her home, looking through her belongings, and I can see that you’ve gotten interested in her. So do you think that she was the kind of woman who would retreat from life the way she supposedly did?”
I hesitated. My mind kept going back to the pictures on the gallery wall--the smiling, warm, confident woman who had conquered Hollywood and seemingly the world. But I thought also of master bedroom, so unrelentingly masculine with no allowance made for the fact that it was also occupied by a woman.
Why had Margo left it like that after Prentice’s death? Why had she moved out of the apartment but never allowed anyone else to live in it?
Slowly, I said, “It really is a mystery.”
Caroline grinned. “Lucas is going to be so pissed.”
A shiver ran through me. After protecting myself from people’s negative emotions for so long, I was dismayed by how viscerally I reacted to the thought of him being upset or angry with me.
“Why would you say that?” I asked as casually as I could manage.
“Because he hates this little hobby of mine. He’s convinced it’s going to get me in trouble someday. When he finds out that I’ve turned you on to it--”
She broke off suddenly as we approached the entrance to the Arcadia. A man was getting out of a cab.
Before my mind registered the tall, hard body in the perfectly tailored business suit, the flash of dark brown hair glinting in the sun, and the sudden razor-focus of the gaze the settled on me, I knew who it was.
“Speak of the Devil,” Caroline said.
Chapter Fifteen
Lucas
Emma and I rode up in the elevator alone. I’d invited my sister to come upstairs and have a little chat about why she was there. She’d demurred, claiming that she had somewhere else to be. The shit-eating grin on her face told me that it was more a case of ‘mission accomplished’.
She’d gotten what she’d come for--not just a look in the apartment but quite possibly an ally as well. If she’d roped Emma into trying to solve the Prentice murder instead of keeping her focus where it belonged--
Where was that exactly?
The darkest, most primal part of my mind had no doubt about the answer. On me and nowhere else.
I’d lit out for the office before it was barely dawn because I didn’t trust myself to be around Emma. She was too damn innocent--maybe. I was too damn attracted to her--for certain. Bottom line, I needed to put some distance between us.
That lasted just long enough for me to touch base with several contacts in Europe and the Middle East. As much as I tried to focus on those conversations, my thoughts kept straying to the exquisite, passionate woman I’d held in my arms all too briefly the night before. Finally, I faced the obvious. It was time to man up and talk to her.
Except, standing in the damned elevator, it wasn’t talking that I was interested in.
I wanted to put her back against the wall, push my leg between her sweet thighs, take her mouth, and make her moan with the same kind of hot, unbearable need that I was suffering.
And then I’d--
I jerked back from a fuck fantasy so hot it had me hard as rock. What the hell? The dreams weren’t bad enough at night? They had to take over my day, too?
Given the differences in our lives, I should have had most of the power in any relationship between us. Instead, I felt as though I had next to none. That was new and unsettling, especially since it made me wonder about the life I’d been leading up until now. I’d told myself that it was all I wanted. Hell, what guy wouldn’t? Business success and no lack of female companionship.
No doubt about it, I’d been sitting pretty until a certain blonde hurtled into my life, reminding me that raw, hot passion could go along with actually liking a person, even admiring her. What the hell was I supposed to make of that?
“We’re here,” Emma said softly.
The elevator had stopped. She’d stepped out into the mirrored foyer and was waiting for me to do the same.
Suave guy that I was, as I unlocked the apartment doors, I mumbled, “I’ll be in the library. I’ve still got some work to get through this afternoon.”
There were always less-than-pleasant tasks to take care of in my business: Developers who thought they could pass off shoddy building materials on a demanding clientele, some of whom weren’t above used firing squads as a means of personal expression.
A wannabe rival who imagined he could engage in a little poaching via deliveries of hookers and dope.
An owner who through some unfathomable combination of arrogance and stupidity was trying to swing a private deal under the table.
I was suddenly in the mood to tackle them all.
I’d rattle a few cages, make a few palms sweat. That would calm me down.
“Oh--” Emma said. I stared at her mouth as it formed that O. God forgive me, all I could think of was the t
ruly sinful things I could be doing with it.
“In that case,” she continued, “if it’s all right with you, I’d like to start inventorying Margo’s wardrobe.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever you want.”
I headed for the library, shucking off my jacket as I went. It felt too tight. All my clothes did. Tossing the jacket on a chair near the library windows, I loosened my tie and undid the top buttons of my shirt. That helped but not much.
If I’d had any sense at all, I’d have gone to the gym instead of coming back to the apartment. At least there, I would have had a chance to wear myself out enough to maybe, just maybe, get some rest in the coming night.
But no, I had to go ‘home’ instead. That was the real kicker. The apartment wasn’t ‘home’, not remotely. It was just a property that I was going to sell and make a fat commission on. But in the past week, having breakfast with Emma every morning on the terrace, thinking about her being there during the day, wondering what she was doing, it had come to mean more.
Or she had.
I made the calls but somehow they didn’t have the results I’d expected. The problems went away readily enough, replaced by a flurry of assurances that nobody wanted any trouble, it was all just a misunderstanding, and we were best buddies forever.
That was fine as far as it went but I left no doubt about what would happen if there was any backsliding. I was a nice guy…until I wasn’t.
But when it was done, I remained tense, coiled inside, and to my disgust, still semi-hard, all courtesy of Miss Emma Whittaker. Apparently, I couldn’t stop lusting after her even when I was supposed to be taking care of business.
With a snarl, I threw down the Mt. Blanc pen that I’d been trying to snap in two, stood, and crossed the length of the library, wrenching open the door before I could think better of it.
I’d just talk to her, that was all. After the scene on the couch, there was no question that we were powerfully drawn to each other. But she obviously had some pretty serious doubts about acting on that desire or she wouldn’t have fled the way she did.
Was she merely being sensible--something I should maybe give some thought to trying? Or did she just not know how to deal with her own feelings?
And if she was as innocent as I feared, what the fuck was I going to do?
Walk away, the better part of me said. Hell, run.
At the thought of doing so, something dark and deep stirred far down in my limbic system. I remembered how she’d felt struggling against me in the pantry, how she’d looked after I’d bound her wrists, what she tasted like when I plunged my tongue into her.
Outside the master bedroom, I forced myself to stop and take a breath. Letting it out slowly, I told myself that I was fine. I had it all under control. It wasn’t like I was really some grunting caveman with his cock in one hand and a club in the other.
This was the 21st century, thank god. Plumbing, the internet, sports bars, no-strings sex. I’d never had any trouble accepting women as complete equals in every way. If I had ever been that stupid, my mother and sister would have long since set me straight, painfully.
Emma and I would talk. If that went okay, we could get some lunch. Had she had anything to eat today?
The coffee and power bar that I’d grabbed at the office were a distant memory. Maybe that was my problem. I just needed to eat something. Food…not the sweetest pussy I’d ever encountered. A sandwich.
Not wanting to startle her, I knocked on the bedroom door. When she didn’t answer, a dozen possibilities ricocheted around in my head, all of them bad.
She’d left. She’d thought things over and was so mad that she didn’t want to speak to me. She’d taken one look at the bed and somehow known that I’d been having sex dreams about her.
By the time I got back to worrying that she’d left, I had the door open and was half-way into the room.
I stopped, frozen in place.
A vision stood in front of me. A goddess in scarlet silk, golden hair falling over smooth, bare shoulders, breasts swelling above a low-cut neckline, the fabric clinging to the curve of her waist and hips, down the seemingly endless length of her glorious legs.
She looked like she belonged in a ballroom or on a throne. Draped in diamonds or better yet, nothing at all.
Big blue eyes opened wide in surprise. “Oh!” she gasped.
Oh indeed. Damn, did she have no idea of what she unleashed in me?
“What--?” I didn’t get any further. My chest was tight, my heart beating hard and fast, my whole body on fire from the inside. As for my cock--
“I’m so sorry,” Emma blurted. She gestured at the dress. “I just thought that I’d try it on for a moment and there wouldn’t be any harm done. But I never should have. It’s totally unprofessional and--”
I barely heard her. All I could think of was that I had never felt like this in my life. It wasn’t just how she looked, utterly enticing though that was. It was who she was.
I felt sorry about what life had handed her but I sure as hell didn’t pity her. She had more courage and grace in her little finger than most people I knew could ever hope to possess.
And she was so fucking lovely.
“You look--” I closed the distance between us without a thought in my head except the overwhelming need to touch her.
She stood her ground, didn’t back up an inch. On the contrary, her chin lifted and she looked straight at me. As I watched, heat shimmering through me, her gaze drifted down my body, lingering at my crotch before returning to meet mine unflinchingly.
Oh, fuck.
As in I was so.
In a heartbeat, my hands cupped her face, my thumbs brushing over the softness of her cheeks, the fullness of her lips, the curve of her chin. I wanted to go slow but damned if the fire raging in me wasn’t making that impossible.
“Emma--”
That was it, just her name, I couldn’t manage anything more. She couldn’t be real yet she was. A vision, a woman, a survivor and a fighter. I wanted to give her everything and take the same in turn.
I dragged in air, unable to tear my gaze from her. “You are so beautiful--”
“Lucas--”
My name on her lips, that breath of sound, coupled with the look in her eyes, that was all it took to unravel me.
I was on her in an instant, my mouth on hers, hot, devouring, giving no quarter. I wanted her more than I had ever wanted anything in my life. More than air or hope or purpose. I was ravenous to sate myself in her.
Her hands tangled in my hair, a moan rising on her lips. She sucked my tongue into her mouth, played with it with her own, bit me lightly, and generally made the top of my skull feel as though it was about to rocket off.
If that weren’t enough, the gown slipped, revealing the crest of her hardened nipples with small, tight aureoles blushing pink.
I groaned. The full expanse of her back was exposed to my questing fingers. Her skin was soft, smooth, warm, enticing beyond bearing. I wanted, needed, had to have more.
With a tug, I eased the scarlet silk down to her waist and beyond. Her breasts fell gloriously free, full and ripe, begging for my hands and mouth. I gave her both, sucking her hard, lost in the fury of sensation she evoked.
The pool of scarlet slipped to her feet. She was left wearing nothing but a scrap of white lace panties.
The bed was only a few steps away. I could see her lying there, her eyes huge and luminous as I tugged those panties off, kissing and licking my way up each beautiful leg from the arch of her foot to her taut inner thighs, and then I’d--
Instead, I ran my hands down her back to the sweet curve of her ass. Easing her against my groin, I trailed my lips down her throat. The taste and scent of her was dizzying. I had to close my eyes for a moment at the force of the tremor that vibrated through us both.
While it still resonated, I grabbed hold of the last fraying shred of my self-control, and tongued the shell of her ear. Hoarsely, I whispered a mingled prayer and pl
ea.
“For the love of god, Emma, tell me that you want this!”
TO BE CONTINUED…
Emma and Lucas’ sizzling story continues in
CARESS: Part Two
Coming September 30, 2015!
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Love sexy, steamy books? Read on for a sneak peek inside my 5 Star Erotic Romance series ANEW that reviewers call “sizzling”, “unique,” “explosive” and “unforgettable”.
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Sneak Peek
ANEW: Book One: Awakened
Josie Litton
In this erotic retelling of “Sleeping Beauty” set in the near future, a beautiful young woman awakens in the garden of a secluded estate with no knowledge of who she is or how she came to be there. For the man who walks out of the darkness to claim her, she is at once the ultimate challenge and the greatest temptation.
“Most beautiful, erotic twist of Sleeping Beauty! Can’t wait ‘til the next book!!”—Chrissy Dyer, Goodreads Reviewer
“...a new twist on futuristic romance! And let me tell you, it’s totally worth it!!!...Cannot wait for the next installment. FIVE STARS FOR THIS AUTHOR!!!”—Summer’s Book Blog
“5 Explosive stars...nothing less than spectacular..sensual, explosive and revealing.”—DawnMarie Carpintero, Goodreads Reviewer
“I loved every minute reading this book...What an amazing start to this series, thank you Josie Litton.”—Kerry Callway, Goodreads Reviewer
Caress Part One (Arcadia) Page 9