by July Hall
“Yes, stay,” he groaned, sliding his hands slowly up and down her back, dipping lower every time until he was brushing over her ass.
“Will you make love to me?” she whispered. His hands went still on her back. She hid her face in his shoulder. But there was no shame, was there, in asking for something she needed so much? If she were starving, nobody would blame her for wanting food. “If I stay, can we just make love the whole time?”
His hands took hold of her hips, strong as iron. “Look at me,” he said.
She did, looking up into those green eyes, so hypnotized by them that his hand between her legs came as a surprise. She gasped and looked down. “No,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Look at me.”
And Sandra looked at him, into his eyes, while he cupped her through her jeans, massaging her firmly. When he ground the heel of his palm against her clit, she moaned aloud. She was past embarrassment. She didn’t care what she said or did, so long as it felt good. Why the hell shouldn’t he feel her up in the great outdoors? Wasn’t it a private beach? “More,” she choked.
His gaze never wavered. “Do you need me now? Do you?”
What did he think? “Kiss me,” she said, tugging him down before he could reply. Then she rocked and arched against his hand until they found a rhythm that made her throb in no time at all. He moved his hand relentlessly through it, until she rose up on her toes to escape, too sensitive for more.
Afterward, she relaxed against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Maybe they were the only two people in the world. Maybe they could just stay here forever.
Then he withdrew his hand from between them with a sigh, and she crashed back to earth. The glow from her orgasm wore off by reluctant degrees. Self-consciousness returned to take its place. Damn it.
She remembered how he’d smirked at her after he’d gone down on her in the middle of the night. He liked tearing through her self-control.
She swallowed. Fair enough. She enjoyed returning the favor, but this was still sort of embarrassing. Humping his hand on the beach like she was in heat or something?
As she looked over his shoulder at the sky, trying to regain her composure, the seagull flew into her line of sight again. At least, she guessed it was the same gull. She didn’t see any others.
The gull started to circle. It had spotted something in the shallows.
“Incredible,” Charles said, kissing her temple again. Instead of gloating, he sounded almost reverent.
“Um, thanks,” she mumbled. “What about you?”
“I can wait,” he said.
She winced. Of course he could.
“I do think we should eat,” he continued, running his fingers through her hair again. He seemed to love doing that. “I’ll need to keep my strength up for spending the weekend in bed with you.”
Sandra blinked up at him. “The weekend?” He’d only mentioned Saturday.
“The whole weekend.” He traced his fingertip over her jaw. She couldn’t read the look in his eyes. “Until Sunday evening and not a minute before.”
In his house, in his bed, for two days. Just the thought of it made her heart ache with longing. She felt obliged to put up one more token protest: “Well, what if I had plans for tomorrow?”
“Do you?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Then forget about the hypotheticals.” He brushed a kiss over her forehead. “Let’s go back to the house and get something to eat. Cook will be here for the weekend, too.”
“Seriously, does Cook have a name?”
He took her hand again. “I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask Warrick.”
Maybe, by the end of the weekend, she would be able to tell when he was joking. She wasn’t counting on it.
As they walked back down the beach, Sandra watched the seagull finally descend to the water. It didn’t swoop in; it alighted on the waves as delicately as if it were dancing. But when it rose again, it had something clutched between its webbed feet, something in a shell, barely visible as the gull winged its way toward the rocks.
***
Breakfast consisted of omelets and small smoked sausages, and the best coffee Sandra had ever tasted. They enjoyed it in companionable silence. The Wall Street Journal sat folded at Charles’s elbow, but he didn’t look at it. She suspected that was an enormous act of will on his part.
To Sandra’s relief, Warrick was nowhere to be seen. A maid brought everything out. They were eating in the cavernous dining room, but somehow it didn’t seem so bad with Charles at the head of the table and Sandra to his right. She had a great view of the rolling backyard through the floor-to-ceiling windows. A patio sat just outside the French doors, perfect for relaxing on a nice day.
By the time she put her fork down, she was comfortably full, and still warm from her orgasm. It seemed like all of her appetites had been temporarily satisfied. What about his? He’d said he would only wait until after breakfast, but he looked content enough as he ate. He’d removed the pullover to reveal a sport shirt in a dark green that matched his eyes. He seemed relaxed and unhurried, not at all a man on the edge of desperation.
Well, they had the whole weekend. The thought thrilled Sandra all the way to the roots of her hair, and also reminded her of something. She reached into her cardigan pocket and withdrew her phone. “Excuse me. I’d better call Kristen and tell her I won’t be home until tomorrow.”
He asked, as if it was of no particular importance, “How will you explain that?”
“Oh, I’ll just tell her I’m still working on the house. She won’t care.” Sandra rose to her feet and looked at the French doors leading onto the patio. “I’ll be right back.”
“Certainly.” She didn’t miss the way his eyes followed her movements, and managed to hide her smile as she stepped outdoors. It was half-past eleven now, and the day was shaping up to be divine. Or maybe that was just her sunny mood making everything around her seem bright.
Sandra Dane, you watch yourself, she thought, but it was too late for that too.
Kristen picked up on the second ring. “Hey, where are you?”
Sandra couldn’t stop a stupid grin. “I’m still at the Magister house. There’s a lot more work than I thought. I’ll be—”
“Why are you still there after you broke up with Bradley? Congratulations, by the way.”
Sandra’s whole body went cold. “What? How did you know about that?”
“Because he knocked on our door, like, an hour ago,” Kristen said. “He wanted to talk to you. He was really pissed off. Said you weren’t taking his calls. I told him you weren’t even in town.”
Sandra clutched the material of her blouse over her heart. “Did you tell him where I was last night?”
“I told him you got stuck out in Long Island because of the storm.”
“Damn it, Kristen!”
“What?” Kristen sounded annoyed. “I didn’t tell him where you are now. I didn’t even know. Besides, he said he was going to talk to his uncle anyway. That’s the guy I talked to on the phone, right? Mr. Upper East Side?”
Charles wasn’t in the Upper East Side today, and Bradley knew it. Sandra dug her fingers into her hair and tried not to bounce on her toes. “What time did you say he left? An hour ago?”
“I guess. Maybe a little longer. It’s not like I had a stopwatch. What the hell is going on?”
It had taken her an hour and forty-five minutes to get from her apartment to Charles’s house. There would be less traffic on a Saturday morning. Bradley could easily make it here within an hour and fifteen minutes.
“I’ll explain later,” Sandra said, hoping that between now and “later” she could come up with something remotely plausible. “Anyway, I’m still at the house, and if Bradley calls you, don’t tell him anything, and—”
“Sandra, what the fuck?”
“—and I’ve gotta go, bye!” She hung up at once and burst back through the French doors into the dining room.
Charles was reading
the paper. “Proteus Digital Health is now valued at over a billion dollars,” he said, glancing at her. “This trend toward startups—” His eyes widened. “What is it?”
“We’ve got a problem,” Sandra said. “My sister told me that Bradley stopped by our place this morning, and now he’s on his way here. He could arrive any minute!”
Charles blinked. To her surprise, he didn’t look all that concerned. “Don’t worry, Miss Dane,” he said. “I’ll take care of my nephew.” His lips curled up in something like a smile. But not a nice smile. Not at all. “I’m looking forward to it.”
This time, Sandra couldn’t stop her shiver. It suddenly felt kind of cold in here.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Charles wasn’t reckless enough to draw Sandra into the coming confrontation. It would be better for everybody if Bradley didn’t know she was here. Thankfully, she had seen the wisdom of that.
“I guess I should just wait it out in my room until he’s gone?” she’d sighed.
“No,” Charles had said after a moment’s reflection. “My suite.” She’d looked astonished, but he had nothing to hide. All classified information pertaining to the company was either in Manhattan or the fireproof safe hidden in his home office. As for his personal life, he supposed she could peruse his bookshelves or go digging through his underwear drawer. She’d be disappointed if she hoped for something scandalous in either place.
The maid had cleared away the remains of breakfast for two, and Warrick had assured Charles that Sandra’s rental car was stowed away. Even if he did see it, Bradley would probably take no notice of it, or would assume the humble vehicle belonged to the help.
Now, not ten minutes after Sandra had given Charles the news and escaped to his room, Warrick knocked on the office door. “Mr. Bradley’s car has just pulled up to the door, sir.”
“Thank you. Show him in here.” Charles remembered Sandra’s worries about whether or not Warrick thought this whole thing was “okay.” He added, “As you know, I intend for Miss Dane to stay here for the remainder of the weekend. It should go without saying that she’s to be treated as a welcome guest.”
Warrick drew his shoulders up straight, and sounded almost cool when he replied, “Of course it goes without saying, sir.”
Charles nodded in dismissal and returned to Andrew Huan’s memo. It seemed his first few days on the job had been productive. Charles expected he would take a brief trip to Hong Kong sometime this quarter to see the situation for himself.
In fact, he grew so engrossed that when Bradley stormed through the door, it almost came as a surprise. Charles sighed and closed his laptop. The boy could summon energy when he wanted to. If only Bradley cared half as much about the company as he did his wounded pride.
“Where is she?” Bradley demanded. “I know she spent the night here.”
Unruffled, Charles said, “She did. The weather was bad. She left earlier this morning.” He gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk.
“I’m not sitting down. I can’t believe it. My girlfriend spent the night here with you after breaking up with me? Are you serious?”
“I wouldn’t permit her to drive in unsafe conditions,” Charles said coldly. “You know my stance on that. If it helps, her reaction was much like yours at first.”
“At first?”
“Yes. Later in the evening, however, we had a discussion.” Charles paused significantly. “About you.” All true, so far as it went.
Now Bradley turned pale. “What about me? What did she tell you? How come you didn’t stop her from breaking up with me?”
An unfamiliar feeling prodded Charles. Guilt, perhaps. Was it possible Bradley really cared for Sandra? He remembered her pain and forced the thought from his mind.
He also remembered what she’d said and decided to test the waters: “Why didn’t you stop her? Was the strip club too enticing?”
Now Bradley looked shocked. “How did you know about—”
He cut himself off. Silence fell as they stared at each other.
So Sandra’s instincts had been right. Charles began to see red. Was she right about the other thing, too?
“I was just there for a friend’s party,” Bradley said, swallowing. “You know Trent Herrington? From Sigma Chi? His wedding is next weekend. We were just showing him a good time.”
How stupid did Bradley think he was? “If that’s all it was, why didn’t you tell her you were going? She doesn’t seem like she’d be unreasonable about that.”
“Well…she…” Bradley seemed to realize he was caught between a rock and a hard place. If he called Sandra unreasonable, that begged the question of why he wanted her back. If he accepted the blame, that would be even worse. “I meant to tell her. I just forgot. And then she wouldn’t even listen to me.”
“How uncharitable of her,” Charles said. “And how rude of Trent’s family not to invite me to the wedding. I’ve known his father since Andover.” Bradley went even paler. “You’d think I would have heard something about it. I’ll have to ask.”
“I…” Bradley closed his eyes. “Uncle Charles, please…”
“What was the girl’s name?”
Bradley gave him a hunted look. “The girl?”
Charles tasted bile again. Please let Sandra be wrong. “The one you slept with. We might need to buy her silence.”
After a pause, Bradley mumbled, “Crystal.”
“Ah,” Charles said. Tension coiled through his body as the rage built in him.
“She won’t be a problem,” Bradley said quickly. “I mean, why would she be? She does it all the time. She knows not to ruin a good thing. And I paid her really—”
“Are you an idiot?” Charles roared, rising to his feet and slamming his fists down on the desk. Bradley staggered backward as his mouth fell open in shock. “How many? How many times? How many women?”
“Uncle Charles, please—”
“You put this whole family at risk. You put her at risk!” Charles dug his fingernails into the wood of his desk. The last time he’d hit someone was nearly thirty years ago—a boy at school who’d called Stephen a faggot. Do you want to kick the shit out of Bradley?
“I was safe,” Bradley pleaded. “I wore condoms. They make you. And these girls, they’re top of the line, okay? They have to get tested every…Uncle Charles, I need help. Please. Please help me.”
At that, Charles attempted to control his fury. “Help you? Are the police involved again?” That was all they needed.
“No, I mean, I need help, like…I can’t stop. Okay? With the women. I swear to God I try. It’s like an addiction.” Bradley’s eyes were huge with sincerity. “I think I get it from my dad.”
“An addiction,” Charles said.
“I thought Sandra could help me. She’s so steady and on the level. Sensible, you know? I thought it would work. I didn’t know she’d get all crazy about this.” Bradley ran a hand through his thick, dark hair.
“Women tend to get crazy when their boyfriends do what you’ve done,” Charles snarled. “Why the hell weren’t you addicted to her?”
He meant it. Charles had become addicted before the first kiss. There was no going back now. How could Bradley not have appreciated her?
Bradley had the gall to laugh. “Sandra? You met her, right? The girl next door? She’s cute and all, but not exactly exciting.”
“She’s too good for you,” Charles said. “She’s more than you deserve.” Bradley’s eyes widened. “Jesus Christ, boy. You’re a Magister! We take care of what’s ours, we cherish what we’ve been given! How could you have been so stupid?”
“I…I don’t know,” Bradley said slowly, giving Charles an odd look. “I wasn’t thinking about it like that.”
“Obviously not!”
“Yeah.” Bradley stuck his hands in his pockets. “So…you approved of her, huh?”
Sandra, poised and graceful, capable and ambitious. Sandra. “She would have been the perfect choice if you had
half the sense God gave a box of rocks.”
“Uh-huh. So, if you think she’s so wonderful, you’ll help me get her back, right?” Bradley tilted his head to the side. “I mean, you’d want her to be with me. Right? For the family.”
“You will leave her alone,” Charles said. “You’ll stay away from her. Completely. I’d better never hear of you seeking her out again.” He would not be responsible for his actions, otherwise. “Miss Dane said that she wanted this to end quietly and without scandal. I suggest you be thankful for small mercies, and keep your own mouth shut.”
“Wow.” Bradley moistened his lips, still with that strange look on his face. “I didn’t know you’d be so mad about this.”
Was he joking? “I am angry, yes,” Charles said softly, looking Bradley dead in the eye. “But do you think this is as angry as I ever get?”
Now Bradley went pale again. “I don’t know.”
“It isn’t. You have never seen that, Bradley.” No, Bradley hadn’t. It was very difficult to arouse Charles’s true wrath. When he chose to unleash it, it was a cold thing of unfathomable cruelty, something that destroyed careers, corporations…and lives. “Get out before you do.”
“Right. Sure thing.” Bradley swallowed and glanced toward the office door. Then he turned back to Charles, and his lips curled into a grimace. “But you know what? Maybe you’ve never seen me angry, either. Maybe you don’t know what I can do when I’m pissed off.”
That was almost enough to defuse Charles’s ire. It was just too ridiculous. “Your threats are as empty as your father’s,” he said. “You will do nothing but show up for work on Monday and hope to God I can someday find you a decent woman willing to put up with you.” Maybe he’d get Stephen on that. “Get out and, if you can manage it, find something to do unrelated to your addiction.”
Bradley’s face contorted with a hatred Charles had never seen there, worse even than his usual resentment. But his nephew departed without another word, without even slamming the door behind him.