Thoughts crowded inside his head, forcing him to deal with things he'd spent so long avoiding. His family. What he wanted for his future.
When he thought about the future, he thought about Lennon.
Instead of panicking tonight at his family's unexpected arrival, she'd breached a wide gap and, with dignity, established her place in his grandfather's life.
There is a balance, you know, black sheep.
She was right. Family was family, the good right along with the bad. Otherwise, what did he have? A life that strung from case to case, affair to affair, none of which had ever left him feeling this hot sexual glow, this smug satisfaction that he could make this amazing woman come apart in his arms.
That she could make him come apart in hers.
He couldn't deny that seeing his family had meant something, too. In just a few dances, his mother had filled him in on Eastman Antiquities and all her social endeavors, while finding out all she could about his work and mental health.
She'd breathlessly managed to cover months in that short time--unwittingly making him feel selfish and stingy for never talking to her except when she called him.
Judging by the way his dad had monopolized Lennon, Josh guessed his own taste in women had met with approval, too. That was something. And remembering his grandmother battling wits with both McDarbys brought a smile to his lips.
But perhaps the greatest revelation of the night had come when he'd realized his parents were getting older. When he'd shown up on the night of the flash-and-bang attack, he'd been shocked by how frail Miss Q's hand had felt in his, her arm so shrunken he feared he might accidentally break her bones if he didn't handle her gently. She'd gotten old, and he wondered if his grandfather had seemed as old before his death, too.
Josh didn't know, and that bothered him. While he couldn't change the decisions he'd made so long ago, did he really want to make the same choices again?
At seventeen, leaving home to establish himself as independent from his family had seemed necessary. Josh wasn't seventeen anymore. Choosing his own career, his own interests, his own woman, was no longer a battle of wills.
The distance he'd placed between himself and his family seemed a mere formality now. Their presence tonight--no matter what their motivation for coming--proved they were willing to accept his decisions. They may not agree with them, but they would respect them. If his family could bridge the Eastman-McDarby connection for his benefit, then the time had come to put the past in the past and move on.
So what did he want for his future?
Gazing down at the beauty sleeping beside him, Josh smoothed away silky strands of hair from her cheek and knew that what he wanted was to feel like he did when he was with Lennon. Sated, challenged, tensely expecting the unexpected--because there was no way in hell he could have anticipated her marching out of that bathroom un- dressed as Lady Godiva tonight. As stupid as it sounded, he liked the way he felt when she looked at him--like he was her hero.
If only being a hero was a good thing. Lennon believed heroes were only good for love affairs.
When she sighed deeply and rolled to her side, Josh used the opportunity to slip out of bed. Sleep simply wasn't part of the equation tonight, not when he had suspects to investigate, dirt to dig up on more bachelors, and some reading to do--to find out how Milord Spy might convince his lady to take a chance.
THREE HOURS OF SLEEP wasn't nearly enough to hit the ground running, especially after dancing and making love most of the night. But Lennon put on a good face--especially since she suspected Josh hadn't slept at all.
"What happened to you last night?" she asked when he emerged from the bathroom still dripping from a shower.Standing framed in the doorway, he toweled his hair dry, giving her an eye-opening show of tanned, gleaming muscles and sexy, long wet hair.
"There didn't seem to be much point, chere. And I had to get some work done. As it turns out, we've had a development."
"What?" she asked, bracing herself.
"Spoke with Olaf just a few minutes ago and your aunt hasn't received any letters. According to my calculations, one should have arrived after the masque and another this morning."
"What do you make of it?"
"I'm not sure yet. It may just be a lapse. We'll have to wait and see if any more arrive today. I find it strange that they would just stop."
Strange, indeed, but hopefully this would prove to signify the end to the harassment. Though they couldn't be positive someone had shot at them in the alley yesterday... Well, she could lie in bed and hope for the best anyway, and watch Josh rub that plush towel across the corded muscles of his arms, his torso, his chest.
Mmm... She could get used to waking up like this every morning. Opening her eyes to the sight of a gorgeous naked man, all her senses titillated before she'd even had a swallow of caffeine. All her drowsy thoughts focused on how to lure him back between the sheets.
Of course, if this were a normal part of her life, she'd probably never make it to her computer, because she'd never get out of bed. Then her books wouldn't get written, which meant she'd lose her readership and have to live off her trust fund. And when that ran out she'd be forced to use her degree to get a practical job as an English teacher or a newspaper columnist.
Just about the time she decided to get out of bed to avoid the dire consequences of lounging around admiring Josh, the man himself showed up at her side, looming tall and breathtakingly naked. With one quick motion, he whipped the sheet back, exposing her to the cool air and his heated gaze.
"I know what I want to do today, and it involves you naked." He grinned devilishly.
Lennon's insides quivered in response to his throaty declaration, tiny ribbons of heat uncurling low in her belly.
"I'm afraid we've got a full slate of events scheduled." She tried to sound casual, though a slow, steady heat flushed her skin.
He must have noticed, because suddenly, in one fluid motion of contracting muscle, he was on his knees beside the bed, reaching out to thumb her nipple.
"Erotic events, chere."
As if she could forget. All she could do was catch a breath as he fingered the underside of her breast, as if it was his privilege and right to touch her at whim.
Arrogant man. But she leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed when his tousled dark head descended and his hot mouth fastened on one wanting nipple, a long gentle pull that made desire pool between her thighs.
Oh, she could definitely get used to waking up like this.
Another slow pull with his talented mouth and she sighed aloud. "I want you."
"Not enough." His breath gusted warmly against her skin.
Not enough? Was there some sort of passion barometer she'd missed in her research? How much more could she possibly want him? Her thighs had parted of their own accord, and she could feel the cool air brush her sex, vividly exposing just how moist and ready she was for his attention.
And the man must have radar, because his free hand hovered above her thighs, his fingertips dipping into the juncture there, over silken hairs, zeroing in on the core of nerve endings with a precision that made her suck in a gasping breath.
"Definitely enough," she told him, her words echoing through the morning quiet.
Josh's gravelly laughter mocked her claim, and a finger probed her slick opening, stroked her moisture up to that tiny core, made her sex contract hungrily. Squirming against his hand, she forced her eyes open. Sooty damp hair framed a face potent with hunger and male satisfaction. He liked that she yielded to his slightest touch.
"Not nearly enough, chere. I want more."
She got the impression that he alluded to some deeper meaning, one that completely escaped her in this still-sleepy, passion-soaked haze.
But she tried to accommodate him anyway, spread her thighs to increase the pressure of his touch, though he stroked her with the same steady, dizzying caresses.
"You promised I could tie you up again." Gazing up from beneath
the tousled hair that had fallen over his brow, his green eyes glinted wickedly.
"Oh."
Another hot pull of his warm velvet mouth and she felt the tension inside her welling up like a silky wave.
"Will you let me?"
Let him? How could she possibly deny him, when his finger stroked her wet opening again, probing the most tantalizing inches, then glazing across her skin, in a sheen of her own moisture? And all the while his thumb circled steadily, and his mouth pulled and teased.
Lennon could do nothing more than lie spread before him, drugged by the hot tide inside her that ebbed and then rushed back, stronger with his every caress. He wove magic around her, lifted her in a swell of sensation that made her gasp when it finally surged and broke over her in a languid torrent.
He gave a final flick of his tongue and grinned at her. "Feel better now, chere? Ready to start the day?"
"Definitely ready," she managed to say, though the words rasped out in a raw groan that made his smile widen.
She tried not to think about the sight she must present, naked and spread for his pleasure--and hers--with his hand wedged between her thighs, her hips still squirming as she rode out the fading breakers of an exquisite orgasm.
But if his smile was any indication, he was enjoying the sight immensely. Suddenly, he rose above her, all flexing muscle and fluid grace, and extended a hand to help her stand.
Uh-oh. Lennon was in way over her head. No more denying it. And that thought propelled her from her daze, gave her the strength to take his hand and launch herself from the bed.
Fling, fling, fling!
She wanted to get married, have a normal home, make babies. Just looking at this man made even the fading pulses of her orgasm clench with renewed intensity. This feeling wasn't normal. Josh Eastman wasn't normal. He was a romance hero with his too-long hair and bedroom eyes, a rogue who used sex to titillate her, to confuse her, to make her crazy.
She didn't want crazy.
Did she?
No, no, no!
And what she wanted didn't matter anyway, because Josh didn't want marriage, a normal home or babies.
Lennon was still reminding herself of that fact a short time later as she sipped coffee on the balcony, letting the cool dawn air clear her head while Josh made telephone calls to the police and museum security.
The sun rose in pastel streaks above the rooftops, washed the dewy courtyard with a soft-focus sheen, made the geraniums in the window boxes glow vibrantly against misty brick walls. Water dripped from a nearby gutter and leaves rustled as a tiny songbird hopped through the branches of a tree. The morning seemed to glow with the freshness of a new day, and Lennon sipped her coffee, enjoying the sight, even while realizing caffeine wasn't going to do much except wake her up.
Getting control of her overactive emotions didn't seem to be in the cards today. She just didn't have the brain cells for it. Her mood was too dreamy, her thoughts too dazed, her body too languid. Josh had done this to her. She wanted to view her feelings for him with the same freshness of the sunrise, the same eager dawning of a new day. But she would be a fool to give in to the urge. There was no new day for a woman who wanted a normal marriage and a man who didn't want marriage at all. There was only this moment.
Lennon turned to head back inside at the exact moment when a terra-cotta flowerpot exploded a foot from her head. The sharp blast of sound made her yelp in surprise, and the cup slipped from her hands and crashed on the balcony, raining hot coffee over her shoes and ankles.
Josh burst through the French doors before the broken shards of terra-cotta and shattered ceramic mug had even settled at her feet, and he shoved her back through the doors with a harsh, "Get away from the doors."
Her heart knocked hard as she grabbed the back of an armchair to steady herself, before moving away from the doorway just enough to keep an eye on Josh, who was still at risk outside. She could see him bent over the balcony rail as though straining to see down the alley, and was grateful she didn't have to wait long before he strode back inside.
"Are you okay?" His gaze raked over her perfunctorily, taking in the splashed coffee on her hose and shoes.
"Fine. What was--"
"This." His expression was grim as he held up a palm-size stone for her perusal. "Someone threw this and broke the flowerpot. Did you see anyone?"
"No." She wouldn't admit that she'd been so wrapped up in her daydreaming about him that she'd have missed a Mardi Gras float parked in the courtyard. "Did you?"
He frowned, pulled the door shut behind him. "I saw someone tearing down the alley. Male, I believe."
"Do you think he was aiming for me and missed?"
Josh covered the distance between them in two long strides. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close, so close she could feel his heart pounding as hard as her own. "I think he meant to scare you."
"He did."
Josh pressed his lips to her brow, a gesture of reassurance that brought Lennon's whirlwind of tender emotions right back to the surface again. "It's okay. We'll lie low this morning and have Olaf do the same with Miss Q."
Then the moment was over and Josh stepped away. "I've got calls to make. The police, hotel and museum security. Why don't you go change? I'll only be a few minutes."
Lennon did, and by the time they arrived at the museum, Auntie Q had already breakfasted with the Eastmans. Lennon grabbed another cup of coffee--feeling too unsettled to eat--while Josh pulled Olaf aside to tell him about the morning's events.
"Lennon and I aren't participating in the sex toy scavenger hunt. We're heading to the art studios," he informed them when he rejoined their group. This was definitely news to Lennon.
Auntie Q seemed delighted, though, bobbling on her delicate heels excitedly. "I've set up all the studios for boudoir photography, sketching and sculpting--whatever you'd like to try your hand at." And the look she gave Lennon revealed that she knew exactly what he'd want to handle.
His dad gave him one of those chip-off-the-old-block sorts of smiles, but Davinia actually blushed to the roots of her sleek brunette bob.
If Lennon had felt more comfortable with his family today, suitably dressed in a flowing linen dress that covered her all the way down to her ankles, the feeling evaporated beneath their speechless reactions to the news that their son was going to take his grandfather's mistress's great-niece to an isolated art studio to photograph, sketch or sculpt her.
Conversely, his grandmother hadn't at all lost her ability to speak. She issued a loud snort of obvious disgust and said, "You all play your sex games. I'm going to spend my morning listening to the lecture on Georgia Devine's work."
Lennon's gaze shot to the massive erection and open mouth displayed below Great-uncle Joshua's portrait, and guessed Mrs. Eastman had no idea what she was letting herself in for.
"You enjoy yourself, Regina." Auntie Q's cheery tone told Lennon a similar thought had crossed her own mind. "And, we'll have fun anyway, won't we, dears?"
Mr. Eastman smiled gamely, took his wife's hand and said, "I'm sure this will be an experience."
"It will be." Josh raked Lennon with a scorching gaze that made her entire world tilt crazily.
When Josh pulled Olaf aside in quiet conversation, Auntie Q pecked Lennon's cheek and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Any more letters, Auntie?" she asked.
"Not a one, dear, so no more worrying. Go have fun with your handsome young man."
Auntie Q was still giggling when Josh led Lennon into the main museum toward the hall of conference rooms that had been temporarily commandeered into erotic art studios.
She had to give Auntie Q credit--her great-aunt didn't know the meaning of halfway. She'd designed the studios with fun in mind, and this set resembled a lush Victorian boudoir. One wall housed a rack of sexy costumes, and along another, shelves held everything from canvas to clay to top-of-the-line digital photography equipment. It was a voyeur's playroom, and Josh gave a laugh
as he locked them securely inside.
"She wanted to make sure no one got in or out, huh?"
Lennon shrugged, suppressing a tiny tremor of anticipation as Josh turned to face her, his expression transforming from amused to predatory before her eyes. "She wanted people to feel safe so they could explore their fantasies."
But safe wasn't what she felt as he covered the distance between them in two long strides, crowding her back against the rack of costumes, so close he seemed to suck up all the air.
His gaze was purely sexual. "You said I could tie you up."
"So I don't get to take pictures?" she asked lightly, a show of bravado when adrenaline enhanced all of her senses.
"No pictures." Circling a hand around her neck, he lifted her hair from her shoulders. "I want to see you naked."
Lennon hesitated, debating whether to let him call the shots. He must have recognized her uncertainty because he said in a silky voice, "I've got an image of you I want to recreate."
"I thought you said no pictures."
He thumbed her lower lip, his mouth tilting upward in a mysterious smile. "Do you trust me, Lennon?"
His hunger was so obvious, so potent, that goose bumps chased along her skin. She didn't have to consider the question. "Yes."
He pressed a kiss to her lips, a gentle kiss that sealed the deal and thanked her for gifting him with her trust. Then he unzipped her dress and slid it down her arms.
"Naked?" she asked, eyeing the variety of sexy costumes with a pang of regret.
"Naked."
The dimensions of the studio seemed to shrink with her every excited breath, with each piece of clothing he removed. He peeled her hose down her legs with great care, clearly in no hurry. Neither was Lennon. Seeing him kneeling before her, fully clothed, his dark head level with her bare stomach, was an experience to savor.
Then he stood, brushing against her in a tantalizing move as he reached past her shoulder to select two diaphanous scarves from a rack. "We're going to act out a fantasy here, chere."
"When have you had time to think up fantasies about me?"
One-Night Man Page 19