When they reached the office, John ushered her in, then followed her and closed the door. She heard the lock click and felt his arm reach around her waist and her backside crushed up against his hard form.
“Constance, you’re making me crazy.”
She tried to hide her smile. “Maybe you were crazy already.”
“I don’t know what you’ve done to me.”
“I can’t imagine that I’ve done anything.” His big hand splayed over her belly, where all kinds of sensations churned. “I’m just trying to do my job.”
“And I keep distracting you.” His lips brushed her neck and heat flickered low inside her.
“Yes. Very much so.”
“I think you needed some distraction.” His low voice sent a rumble of desire to her toes.
“So I’ll be unable to properly investigate your books? You’ll make me think you’re trying to hide something.”
“Maybe there is something I’m trying to hide.” His voice contained more than a hint of suggestion, and she felt his erection jostle against her. She was slightly appalled by how arousing that was. What had happened to her since she met John Fairweather? It was as though a switch had turned on inside her. Now energy coursed through her veins whenever she was around him. Her mind strayed in previously forbidden directions and her body ached to do all kinds of things that she knew were wrong.
“What are we doing?” she asked in a half whisper.
His mouth played below her ear, heating her skin. “I think I’m kissing your neck.”
“This is foolish.”
“I won’t argue with you.” He went back to kissing her neck. Her nipples were starting to tingle.
“So shouldn’t we stop?”
His mouth worked its way up to her ear and he nibbled softly on her earlobe, which sent a surprising surge of sensation to her core. “Definitely not.”
He spun her around and kissed her full on the mouth. Her lips parted to welcome him and she felt her arms wrap enthusiastically around him without her permission. They kissed for a solid ten minutes, until she was in a thoroughly befuddled state. Then he excused himself with a polite nod and left her all alone, in a state of agonizing arousal, with nothing but ledger books for company.
She stared at the door. What a nerve! Now he had her all worked up and he’d waltzed off? He hadn’t even said where he was going or when he’d be back. How could she work now that he’d left her with blood pounding in every part of her body other than her brain?
She glanced at her watch and saw that it was nearly seven o’clock. She’d wasted most of the afternoon seeing nothing downstairs. Except for Don Fairweather swiping those chips off the table.
Of course she’d seen him put chips down to bet, so nothing truly suspicious had happened, but wasn’t it rather a conflict of interest for him to gamble in the tribe’s own casino? He wasn’t involved in the day-to-day operations on the floor. He did publicity and booked the bands, but he was obviously fairly intimate with all the other workers. She’d noticed his jovial exchanges with at least half a dozen employees on the floor. Which was hardly proof of wrongdoing.
She heaved a sigh of relief to find that thinking about Don helped dissipate the fog of passion that John had left her in. She turned to the computer and had a look through the entries from a year ago. There was no point in looking at new data, since everyone knew she was here so any would-be crooks would be on their best behavior. As usual everything seemed to add up.
Often with forensic accounting she wasn’t looking for overt proof of wrongdoing. White-collar criminals were usually smart and knew how to cover their tracks. She had to look closely to find tiny holes or data that was just a little different from the norm. Then she at least had a clue for somewhere to stick in her shovel and start digging. So far she’d had no luck. Every time she’d thought she found an interesting anomaly, it had turned out to be a dead end.
On instinct she decided to look for internal records of tribal members gambling. They were easy enough to find in the casino databases, which were very well organized and clearly labeled, probably by John himself. Don wasn’t the only member who gambled, but he was by far the heaviest gambler. Someone called Mona Lester had some losses, and an Anna Martin had some small winnings, but Don had won more than fifty thousand dollars last year. Could he be up to something, or was he just lucky?
The door clicked open and John appeared again. She closed the spreadsheet window with a flash of guilt. Which was ridiculous. He knew she was here to dig into the files, so she was hardly going behind his back. Still, it felt wrong to kiss a man then go looking for fraud in his own computer system.
One more reason why this whole affair was a big mistake.
He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. His sleek dark suit did nothing to conceal the raw masculinity of his body. Especially not now that she’d seen it naked. “You’re coming to my house for dinner.”
“You mean your suite.” Her response seemed easier than choosing to accept or decline his invitation. Not an invitation, really. More of a command.
“No, I mean my house. I’m just living in the suite while I renovate the old farmhouse. The kitchen’s finished, so I have everything I need to make dinner for you.”
“You can cook?”
“Absolutely.”
She blinked, not sure what to believe. Was there anything he couldn’t do? “I can’t really say no, then, can I?”
“Of course not.” He offered a hand to help her from her seat behind the desk.
She must be out of her mind. But, he could cook? That was pretty irresistible. And she could go back to her hotel right after dinner. “I’ll drive in my car.” Then she could take off any time she wanted.
“Sure. You can follow me.”
* * *
The road to his house was long and winding, an old farm road that led past his grandparents’ new house and through fields dotted with grazing cattle. Gnarled apple trees lined the drive and framed the austere form of John’s white farmhouse. A new cedar-shake roof gleamed gold in the lowering sun and stickers still ornamented the shiny new windows. A Dumpster filled with construction debris and a cement mixer were among the signs that a major renovation was still in progress.
“We stripped it right back to the old post-and-beam framing, and added stud walls and insulation. There’s almost nothing left of the original house, but it’s starting to look like it used to in its heyday. All the major work is done. Now they’re reinstalling the original woodwork. I should be back living here in a month or so.”
“It looks lovely.” She was surprised that a notorious bachelor like John would even want a big old house when he could be catered to by staff at his own luxury hotel.
“It’s coming together really well. I can’t wait to move in. I’m going to get a dog.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know yet. Something big. And cute. I’ll adopt it from a shelter.”
“That’s a great idea. I’ve always wanted a dog.”
“Why don’t you get one?”
“I need to move out of my parents’ house first. My mom doesn’t like them.”
He nodded. He must think it pathetic that she still lived at home with her parents at age twenty-seven. She needed to put moving out at the top of her goals for the coming year.
They walked up solid stone steps to the front door, which was still stripped bare of paint. John opened it and ushered her in. She glanced around his inner sanctum, taking in all the authentic details he’d had lovingly preserved.
“This house was built in 1837 by one of my ancestors. He and his sons handcrafted a lot of the woodwork themselves.”
She stroked a turned cherry bannister. “This must have been quite a labor of love before power tools became common.”
“All the more reason to restore it to its original beauty.” He led her into a bright kitchen with ivory cabinets and big center island. “Do you like shrimp?”
“Love it.”
“Good, because I’ve had it marinating since this morning.”
“You knew you were going to ask me over?”
“Of course.”
His arrogance should have been annoying. “What if I said I didn’t like shrimp? Or I was allergic.”
He shot her a cheeky smile. “I’ve got some chicken prepared as well.”
“You’re ready for anything, aren’t you?”
“I try to be.”
He grilled the shrimp and some corn on the cob outdoors, and they ate it with an elaborate salad they made together of feta cheese and pear tossed with spring greens. The million-dollar view from his bluestone patio looked over pastures and rolling wooded hills. Constance couldn’t remember a time she’d been anywhere so beautiful. Her own drab environs in an unprepossessing part of Cleveland were depressing by comparison. Yet soon she’d be back there, looking off the back porch over the weedy garden, remembering this delicious dinner and her dangerously charming host.
Dark clouds were gathering along the horizon as the sun disappeared behind the trees. Raindrops spotted the patio as they brought the plates back inside, and by the time they loaded them in the dishwasher, rain was pounding on the darkened windows.
While John brewed the fresh-ground coffee, thunderclaps boomed overhead. “You’d better wait until this stops.” Anticipation shimmered in his gaze.
She reached into her bag. “Let me check the satellite images on my phone to see how big the storm looks.”
“I already did. It’s going to continue all night.”
Eight
Had John somehow planned this storm along with everything else about this evening? He seemed so vastly in control of his life and nearly everyone else’s that it might just be possible. She wasn’t a pawn here. She had free will. “I’m sure I can drive in it.”
“I won’t allow it.” He towered over her in the dimly lit kitchen.
“What makes you think you can allow it or not allow it? You’re not my boss.”
“But I am concerned about your safety. These back roads can wash out in this kind of storm. Some of the worst messes I see as a volunteer firefighter are one-car accidents where someone tried to drive at night in the wrong weather. It’s too hard to see the road when you’re out in the woods in rainy darkness.”
“I suppose you do have a point,” she muttered. “But I can’t sleep with you.”
“I believe we’ve passed that milestone already.”
“I know, but that was a one-time, spur-of-the-moment thing. If I stay over again...”
“It’ll mean you actually like me.” His teeth flashed in a wicked grin.
She had no idea how to respond to that. Especially since it was true. “I don’t know why I like you. You’re insufferably arrogant.”
“You find that refreshing because you’re used to dealing with wimps.”
“That’s not true at all.” I’m not used to dealing with anyone. She couldn’t believe she’d actually admitted to John that she hadn’t even been on a single date since she broke up with her college boyfriend.
“Then maybe I’m just likable.” He crossed the kitchen in two strides and placed his hands on her hips. Heat flared between them. His gentle but insistent kiss left her speechless, and she noticed how her treacherous fingers were already sliding lower to the curve of his backside. How did he do this to her?
She didn’t want to tell him she liked him. He might take it the wrong way and think she wanted some kind of real relationship with him. That was impossible, of course.
She knew that. Which was why she shouldn’t be here kissing a man who had no honorable intentions toward her.
Nevertheless, she found herself kissing him back with passion that that flowed from somewhere deep inside her. This was the kind of thing they’d warned her about in Sunday school. That her parents tut-tutted over when other girls from her neighborhood had affairs that quickly fizzled out, sometimes leaving them pregnant. They thought you shouldn’t even kiss someone until there was a ring or a promise in the picture.
Constance had neither, and yet her fingers now tugged at John’s tie and the buttons on his shirt.
“Let’s go upstairs.” He didn’t wait for an answer but swept her along with his powerful arm around her waist. He kissed her neck with each step, caressed her backside as she walked ahead of him. Under his admiring gaze and tender touch she felt unbelievably desirable. She even had a swing in her step she’d never felt before. Being with John Fairweather was doing something very strange to her mind and body.
“This is my room.” She walked into an impressive chamber with a beamed cathedral ceiling. A big hand-hewn bed gave the room a masculine air. Framed maps decorated the walls, and she peered at one as they went past. “Those are the historical survey maps of our land and the town around it.” They were all different. She could see the territory marked out for the Nissequot shrinking as the maps leaped over the decades. By the early part of the twentieth century, the word Nissequot wasn’t even there and it was marked as Fairweather Farm.
“They were trying to squeeze you out of existence.”
“Almost worked, too.”
He wrapped his arms around her from behind as she stood in front of the most recent map. It was from the previous year and showed the Nissequot territory proudly marked in green, expanded and with the casino buildings at its center.
“What’s the blue area?”
“That’s what we’re planning to buy next. Even that won’t take us all the way back to our colonial-era hunting grounds, but it’ll give us room to grow.”
Her heart filled with pride at all he’d accomplished. Which didn’t really make sense, since she had nothing to do with it and he wasn’t hers to begin with.
“Now, where were we?” He spun her slowly around, sliding his hands along the curve of her waist. The thunder still rumbled outside and rain hammered against the glass of the windows, but it all faded to nothing when his lips touched hers. Her eyes slid closed and she leaned into him, enjoying the closeness she hadn’t even known she craved. Lost deep in the kiss, it wasn’t until she opened her eyes to undo his belt buckle that she realized all the lights had gone out.
“Have we lost power?”
“Looks that way.” He kissed her forehead. “We’re generating plenty of our own electricity, so I don’t think we need it.”
She laughed. “Shouldn’t we at least call the electric company?”
“Nah. They can tell when we lose power. The casino and hotel have backup generators, so they won’t miss a beat.”
He’d taken off her jacket and undone her blouse, and now he unzipped her skirt so it fell to the floor. The black velvet darkness felt very intimate. She managed to get his belt unhooked and his pants and shirt off, which involved some giggling and fumbling. Then they made their way to the soft surface of the bed.
He held her tight as they rolled together, pressing their bodies into the mattress and each other. She loved the heaviness of him, how big he was. When she was on top she kissed his face all over, then eased down to his shoulders and neck, leaving a trail of kisses. She wanted to explore his body, and the total darkness made her bold.
She liked the roughness of the hair on his chest. There wasn’t much of it, just enough to create an interesting and masculine texture. She traced it lower, to where she could feel his hardness waiting for her. She let her tongue explore his erection, turning off any whispers in her mind of how this was indulgent and sinful. She loved the way he moved in response to everything she did, aroused to the point where he couldn’t keep still. John groaned softly as she took him into her mouth and sucked, then let her tongue play about the tip of his penis.
She’d never done this before. Never even thought about it! She enjoyed the control she had over him. She could feel the desire, the passion that racked his strong body.
“Oh, Constance. We need to find a condom.”
She laughed, so aroused she could ha
rdly think. Thank goodness he was more sensible than she. “I love how you’re so responsible.”
“It goes with being a leader of the tribe. I don’t want to create any new members except on purpose.” He chuckled and she heard him groping around in the darkness, opening a door in the nightstand. It reminded her that she was not the first woman to come to his bed. She wouldn’t be the last, either.
But as he rolled the condom on in the dark, she didn’t seem to care. Constance was so aroused that she took him inside her effortlessly, welcoming him into her body. Still on top, she moved slowly, experimenting with the sensations she created in herself and in him. As pressure built inside her she moved faster, letting the feelings wash over her and surprise her as her body did what it wanted.
John pulled her toward him and rolled them over again so he was on top, then he kissed her softly and started a different rhythm that soon had her gasping aloud and moaning his name.
She’d never done that before, either.
He took her almost to the brink, then pulled back, slowing down and kissing and caressing her until she felt she might burst. She tried to urge him with her hips, but he was too heavy, and only chuckled at her attempts to drive the motion. “Impatient!” he scolded her. “Everything in due time.” He moved very slowly and quietly, layering kisses over her ears and neck, heightening the already intense reactions taking place inside her.
She was so aroused that she could barely breathe by the time he finally brought them both to a blistering climax that lit up the darkness with an explosion of inner electricity she’d never even dreamed was possible.
“I saw fireworks,” she gasped when she could finally speak again.
“Good,” was all he replied, so obnoxiously confident that she wanted to slap him—or hug him. She chose the latter.
* * *
John buried his face in her hair. They lay side by side, wrapped in each other. This seduction had taken him by surprise and it just kept gathering steam.
He hadn’t realized that looking past her glasses into those hazel eyes would put him under her quiet spell. Now he didn’t want Constance to leave at all. The power was back on and a soft light illuminated the room.
A HIGH STAKES SEDUCTION Page 11