by Lori Wilde
“Poindexter reads a lot.” He grinned.
Mental note to self. Date more intellectuals.
“But you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, sweetheart.” Harrison eased his hand from her and then dropped to his knees so that her legs were wrapped around his neck and his mouth was level with her most tender assets.
She hissed in her breath through clenched teeth, and her entire body tensed with exquisite pleasure.
His hair tickled her inner thighs. He plied his mouth delicately over her tiny straining ridge. He sank his hot tongue inside her, licking insatiably.
Wickedly his tongue controlled her. She was his puppet. He could do with her whatever he wished.
The slippery sensation was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. His tongue glided into her molten center and he worked his diabolical magic.
She moaned and arched toward him, providing him with easier access. The quivering sensation was indescribably, scrumptiously private.
How had their relationship progressed to such intimacy so quickly?
The affair that burns the hottest, fades the quickest.
It was something her mother used to say when Cassie had asked why she’d dropped yet another boyfriend.
But Harrison’s devilish tongue soon shook such thoughts from her head. He grasped her hips with both hands, holding her pinned to the mattress as she thrashed and writhed. Her body absorbed his heated breath.
Oh, she was done for.
She rode his tongue, pushing and pulling, rocking and bucking. She was searching, grasping, desperate to make it happen.
Her orgasm erupted from the very core of her soul. Exploding outward through her center, flinging into her limbs. Her muscles tightened, then went instantly slack. Her pulse pounded, and she saw a rhapsody of red-white starbursts.
Wet heat spilled out of her, flowed over him as the sound of his proud laughter filled the room.
Well, she thought, dreamily. She’d done it. She’d kept him out of her bed.
He had been standing on the floor the entire time.
CHAPTER 19
Thanks. I needed that.” Cassie sighed contentedly.
“You’re welcome.”
They were piled up in the middle of her bed. Her head resting against his shoulder, her body curled into his side. A smug smile played across his lips.
She traced the smile with her fingertips. “You’re pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Aren’t you proud of me?”
“What do you think?”
His grin widened and her heart just sort of splintered into two pieces, and in that moment she knew she had to tell him about Duane, even though she didn’t understand why.
“Harry?”
“Uh-huh?” He sounded drowsy, self-satisfied. She noticed he’d stopped telling her to call him Harrison. Slowly but surely she was wearing him down.
“Can I tell you something?”
He turned his head and peered at her with his good eye. “Absolutely.”
“Would you really want to know why I freaked out on you today?”
“You don’t owe me any explanations.”
“Yeah, I do. You gave me that beautiful butterfly apology, and it wasn’t even your fault.”
“Shh,” he murmured. “It’s okay. Honest. Forget about it. I don’t care.”
“I do. I acted like a crazy woman, and I want you to understand why. It’s important to me.”
“Okay.”
“I was married once.”
Harrison didn’t say anything. Cassie gulped back her fear and plunged ahead. It was still difficult to talk about, even after eleven years.
“His name was Duane Armstrong. And I was madly in love with him.” She had been apeshit crazy for Duane in that sick-in-the-head-obsessive-teenage way. It was humbling to admit it now. That she’d been so wrong about what love was.
“Uh-huh.” Harry didn’t sound any too enthused to hear about this.
“I wanted to marry him more than anything else on earth. He was handsome and fun and daring. He was twenty-one and I was seventeen. Everyone in my family was against it. Even my dad, which surprised me, because he and Duane were two of a kind. But I was young and headstrong and wildly in love, so I married him anyway. For the first couple of months it was great. One good time after another.”
“Then what happened?” On the surface his voice was teasing, but underneath she heard the tension. He was jealous. “After a while did you discover you didn’t like picking up his socks off the bathroom floor?”
“It’s not so much his socks I minded picking up,” she confessed. “It was his crack pipe.”
“Dammit, Cassie, are you serious?”
She felt his muscles tense beneath her. “I was an utter fool.”
“No, you weren’t a fool. You might have made foolish choices, but you were never a fool.” He sounded so vehement. Like he really believed what he was saying.
“I was so ashamed. I didn’t tell anyone what I was going through. Not even Maddie.”
“It must have been really hard for you, handling that all alone, hiding such a secret from your family.”
She nodded. “The drugs really took their toll, and quick. Duane got crazy jealous. Possessive. The straw that broke the camel’s back was when he locked me in the cellar while he went off on a two-day drug binge.” She shuddered, remembering.
“Damn my hide.” Harrison hissed in his breath. “And I had my head so far up my ass I let the cellar door slam shut on you. And that guy could have blown you up inside there.” His voice hung on a clot of emotion.
“It wasn’t your fault, Harry. I was having a post-traumatic stress flashback. There’s no way you could have known. I just wanted to explain so you could understand me better.”
“How’d you get the courage to leave?” He softly stroked her hair, and his touch was so incredible her heart just ached from the sweetness of it.
“I tried to help Duane. I really did. Tried to get him to join Narcotics Anonymous, but he denied he had a problem. I couldn’t stick it out. I flaked. I didn’t have the stamina for the long haul.”
“Is that why you don’t want to ever get married again? Because you think you did something wrong?”
Cassie nodded and clenched her jaw to keep from crying. Revealing her most shameful secret to him was much tougher than she’d thought it would be.
He gently slipped her head off his shoulder, threw back the covers, and got out of bed. He marched over to the remnants of her collage wall, his bare buns flexing in the light from the bathroom. Her heart fluttered. He was so magnificent.
He fisted his hands. “Which one is he?”
“Oh, Duane’s not on my collage wall. I only put happy memories up there.” Cassie sat up in the bed, curled her knees to her chest.
He looked over at her. The expression on his face plucked at her heartstrings. “It tears me up inside to think that someone hurt you. I’d like to kill the bastard.”
“You don’t have to,” she said. “He died in a car wreck the day after I left him.”
“God, Cassie, sweetheart, I’m so sorry you had to live through that.” Harrison stalked across the room, sat on the edge of the bed, and drew her into his arms.
She was trembling.
“It’s okay,” he murmured and pressed his lips to her forehead. His soul caved in for all she had suffered. He tried to mentally cut off his rational mind from his emotions, but he couldn’t stop sympathizing with her pain. “You’re all right.”
She clung to him and buried her face against his chest. Harrison had never felt so needed, so manly.
“I felt so responsible,” she said. “I kept thinking that if I’d never married Duane, never committed to a relationship, he might not have gotten drunk and driven into that bridge abutment. He might still be alive today.”
“Duane was a troubled man. Surely you’ve figured that out by now. His death had nothing to do with you and whether or not you stood by your wedding
vows. You were only seventeen, Cassie. A kid.”
Harrison rubbed circles on her back, wishing he could make her see the problem had been with her ex-husband, not with her, not with marriage or commitment. He felt her tears on his skin. He took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up until she met his gaze. Then he kissed her.
Slowly, sweetly, gently.
But it didn’t stay slow, sweet, and gentle.
Things changed quickly, as they usually did with his quixotic, quicksilver Cassie.
Her body loosened, but her grip on him tightened. She increased the tempo of their kiss, stepping it up several degrees when she slipped her tongue past his teeth.
Their body heat mixed, mingled. Sharp need for her buried under his skin, fiery and fierce, spreading through his veins, taking him over.
What had started out as a comfort kiss ripened into a frantic, insatiable coupling of their mouths.
His hand went to the soft curve of her waist and his fingers sank deliciously into her flesh. He liked her meaty ripeness, loved caressing her full, rich curves.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, murmured low in her throat. He paid attention to her sounds and moved his fingers accordingly, sliding up from her waist to lightly stroke her lovely breasts.
She was so gorgeous. He was fully aware of how lucky he was to be here. He wanted her so badly. Wanted to bury himself deeply inside her and never emerge.
He dragged his kiss from her mouth, down over her chin, to the underside of her supple throat. He knew he’d discovered an erogenous zone when her body tensed and a small helpless moan escaped her parted lips. She arched against him, her body pleading for more.
Supercharged, Harrison dipped his head lower, his tongue seeking those sweet, rock-hard nipples she thrust at him. He wet them both with his mouth and then rubbed the pad of his thumb over one nipple, while gently suckling the other.
She gasped and writhed.
He was on fire for her. His body was an inferno; he was so hard he didn’t think he could go one more minute without sheathing himself inside her.
And when she reached down and slipped her hand along his inner thigh, he had to close his eyes and fight hard to keep from losing control completely. He was so scared he was going to screw this up.
“You relax and enjoy this,” she said. “Stop playing with my nipples, roll over on your back, and just relax.”
Music to every man’s ears. He groaned and rolled over.
“Do you like for me to touch you like that?” she whispered, kneading his leg, moving closer, ever closer to his hard, flushed penis.
“Oh, babe, yeah.”
It was so extraordinarily erotic, her hand on him. He lifted his head and looked at her, watching the lusty emotions play across her face.
Inch by agonizing inch, she worked her way to his primal spot. When she finally arrived, she took firm hold, wrapping a hand around his throbbing shaft, while at the same time gently scratching his scrotum with her little finger.
He couldn’t stand it. Wouldn’t let things finish this way. He had to be inside her. Didn’t want to come without her.
“Come here,” he groaned and pulled her up to straddle his waist, his penis pulsating against her behind.
He kissed her again, building her up, raising the tension until they were both crazy for it. They thrashed against each other, breathing hard, trembling and tingling, their bodies filled with lust and passion and desire.
“Ride me,” he begged.
Cassie pulled her mouth from his, her long blonde hair trailing over his chest.
“Condom,” she gasped and splayed a palm against his chest. “We gotta have a condom. Hang on. I’ll be right back.”
He groaned and grasped his hair with both hands as she slid off him and padded away in the dark. Seconds later she came running back into the bedroom, fumbling with her purse, fingers grasping at the clasp.
“Ooh,” she wailed. “You’ve got me so charged up I can’t get it open.”
He propped himself up on an elbow. “Here, let me help.”
“I’ve got it, I’ve got it.”
The clasp popped open and she dug around inside, pulling out lipstick and cash register receipts and ink pens. She excavated loose change and a set of car keys and a tin of cinnamon Altoids.
“I know I have a condom in here.”
“Try the zippered pocket,” Harrison said, amazed he could stay so calm.
“I never put anything in there.” She frowned, but slid the zipper open anyway. “Ooh, ooh.” She pursed her lips and her face lit up. “You were right. I feel something.”
Me too, babe; me too.
And for once, Harrison did not want to deny what he was feeling.
Then Cassie pulled a round, flat object from her purse.
“Hey!” Her nose crinkled. “This isn’t a condom.”
She held the ring up to get a better look at it in the light seeping from the bathroom, and Harrison recognized it instantly.
It was one-half of the magical brooch amulet.
“But I don’t understand. “Cassie ran a hand through her hair. “How did it get into my purse?”
Had she stolen it? Harrison immediately felt disloyal for the thought. How could he believe that about her after everything they’d just shared? There had to be another explanation. He knew in his heart of hearts that she was not a thief. Come what may, he was on Cassie’s side.
They turned on the overhead light and sat in the middle of the bed. Cassie put on her bathrobe, and Harrison tugged the sheet over his waist. With their ardor cooling, he felt suddenly vulnerable being so naked in front of her.
“I’m guessing Adam must have put it in your purse. You took it with you into the courtyard when you went to meet him, remember? Osiris found it in the bushes after the lights came back on at the museum.”
“That’s right,” she said.
“This is absolute proof that Adam is the mummy. That’s not Kiya’s half of the amulet. The markings on the rings are different.”
“So this is Solen’s half.” She turned it in her hand. “Adam must have had to put it in my purse before Kiya’s half was stolen.”
“I’m certain of it.”
“And I’ve been running around with it in my handbag all this time?”
“I’m willing to bet that’s why your place was ransacked and why we were followed to Clyde’s place.”
“I don’t understand how anyone knew I had it.”
“Maybe they didn’t. Maybe it was just a stab in the dark because you’d been helping Adam make arrangements for the exhibit.”
She met Harrison’s eyes. “But then where’s the other half?”
“That’s the million-dollar question.”
“We have to put Solen’s amulet in a safe place,” she said. “Right now.”
“Yes.”
“But where can we put it until morning? It’s eight o’clock at night, the banks are closed, and so is the museum. I’m not about to get Phyllis or Ahmose involved. I want this thing as far away from me as I can get it. It’s caused nothing but trouble.”
“Tom Grayfield has a safe. We can ask him to keep it for us until we can get it back to the museum in the morning. Where’s your phone? I’ll give him a call.”
“The battery on my cell needs charging. I’ll go get the cordless from the living room.”
“Never mind. I’ll come with you.” He threw back the covers and tried to act nonchalant as he slipped from her bed to search for his pants. He wasn’t accustomed to strutting around a lady’s apartment buck naked and having her appraising eye on him.
When they reached the living room, she picked her cordless phone from its docking station on the end table and passed it to Harrison.
“Hey,” she said. “My answering machine’s unplugged.”
“It must have happened when your place got ransacked.”
“No wonder I haven’t been able to check my messages. I thought I’d forgotten to tur
n it on.” Cassie plugged the machine in. The red message light winked.
“Look. I’ve got a message.” She checked the caller ID. “Blocked call. It came through at four-fifteen yesterday afternoon, when we were preparing for the party. Hold on. Let me check the message before you get on the phone.”
She hit the play button.
“Cassie.” The voice was low and urgent, but Harrison recognized it right away. “It’s Adam. Lost your cell number but luckily had your home number programmed in my speed dial.”
On the tape, Adam hesitated. In the background they could hear the roaring sound of an airplane taking off.
“Adam must have been at the airport when he called,” Cassie said.
“I’ve discovered something very disturbing,” Adam continued after the plane had passed over. “This is vitally important, so listen carefully. I’m being followed, and my life is in grave danger. I’ll be at the party wearing a mummy costume to give you the details. If something happens and I don’t get to see you, then you’ve got to get a message to my brother, Dr. Harrison Standish.”
Why had Adam called Cassie instead of him? Harrison wondered.
“Tell my brother the secret to the Minoan scroll is in the math. He’ll know what I’m talking about. Don’t say a word about this to anyone else. Harrison is the only one you can trust. Did you—”
The answering machine beeped and then fell silent. It had cut him off.
“Did he call back?” Harrison asked. “Was there another message?”
Cassie checked the machine and shook her head. “What was he talking about? What math?”
“I have no idea, but I’m going to find out.”
He went out to the Volvo, got the scroll from the glove compartment, and brought it back up to Cassie’s apartment. He spread it out on her coffee table atop the half-finished jigsaw puzzle of New York City.
The secret is in the math. The secret is in the math.
Harrison stared at the scroll, his fingers tracing the impenetrable hieroglyphics. Did his brother honestly expect him to decipher something no one else in history had ever been able to decode?