by Ryan, Jenna
“It’s been suggested.”
“So’s the Second Coming. Hasn’t happened yet that I’m aware of. Do you like steak?”
“Not as much as I like answers.”
Vince spread sausagelike fingers. “I’ve got nothing to hide these days. My old man’s had two strokes. He knows he won’t be around much longer. Maybe he’s known for a while. He put me in charge of his business concerns more than eighteen months ago, told me to clean things up for him so when his time came, he could meet St. Peter with a clear conscience.”
Marlowe masked a grin. “You don’t think he’s aiming a bit high, all things considered?”
“Shoot for the stars, who knows what happens. Point your gun the other way, you might shoot off your foot. I’ve never heard of that guy you said.”
“Umer Lugo.”
“Sounds like he should be making vampire movies. And before you start with the blood money cracks, I’ll tell you straight out, I’ve been doing what my father asked. You might not think gambling’s clean, but it’s a hell of a distance from where my family used to be. Now, let’s get down to brass tacks here.” He used his hands to demonstrate. “Do you like your steak two inches thick and rare? Or overdone and flat like the soles of my grandma’s orthopedic shoes?”
UPSTAIRS IN THE SUMPTUOUS suite Marlowe had snagged for them, Darcy ran a warm, peach-scented bath.
Every room in the hotel had windows. The long bank before her showcased the moon, the stars and the ocean shoreline. The water was serene at the moment, but Darcy knew those same waves would be raging by October.
Which pretty much described her own current state of mind. Calm on the surface, wild and crashing inside.
Thanks to Marlowe’s activated cell phone, she hadn’t missed a single word of his conversation with Vince Maco. And after several glasses of expensive brandy, he’d said quite a bit. About his father, his family, his past, his present and his future.
Did she believe him? Jury was still out, but she had to admit she was leaning.
“Damn you, Vince,” she said on a sigh.
Outside, the night sky sparkled. While the tub filled behind her, Darcy identified five constellations. She didn’t want to think about any of it. Most especially she didn’t want to think about Marlowe.
The man was dark and dangerous, a fascinating puzzle best left unsolved. Her life was complicated enough. She didn’t need love sneaking in and turning complicated to crazy.
Thoughts pitched and whirled in her head. Raising a finger, she used the tiny points of starlight to draw a waterfall in the air. Then she watched her thoughts wash away, like a stream of false beliefs slipping into oblivion.
Shutting off the water, she opted for a few extra minutes with the night.
What could you do when everything you thought was true turned out to be an illusion? “Poof.” She made a starburst with her fingers. “All gone. The Reaper’s still behind you, Darcy, but now you have no idea who sent him.”
“You’re getting closer day by day. Doesn’t that count?” Marlowe’s voice came from the doorway.
Darcy merely smiled and sipped the wine she’d poured earlier. “Want some?” She dangled the glass in his general direction. “Bordeaux and steak works for most of us.”
She felt him behind her as he took the glass. “What can I say? The man knows his red meat.”
“Oh, Vince knows lots of things. Most of them used to be bad.”
“Does that mean you believe him?”
She wondered if it was a touch of hysteria that made her want to laugh. Or scream. She went with the laugh and swung on her heel to face him.
“You have no idea how badly I want to say no, Marlowe. I mean, come on, the guy’s a practiced liar. He also thought you were a cop—a misconception I notice you didn’t correct—so, who knows, the lies might have been automatic. But I could tell that you believed him, so I poured a glass of wine and toasted the man. The man whose apparently empty threats single-handedly tore my life off one path and slammed it onto the one you see today. Do I resent that? Surprisingly, I don’t. Why?” She fingered his shirt. “Because there are so many worse places I could be than standing in a spa bathroom in a luxury hotel in Atlantic City with a superhot man less than two feet away from me.”
A slow smile curved her lips, as venting gave way to desire. “So I ask myself, what might that man be thinking right now? That I’m insane? Maybe. Or is it possible he’s thinking there are many worse places he could be as well?”
Darcy spied the glitter in his eyes. Undisguised and, she hoped this once, uncontrolled.
Expectation spiked. Sex with this man wouldn’t be soft and sweet. It would be a wild ride into an unknown world.
She caught his waistband with her fingers, but didn’t tug. Instead, she eased closer, let her eyes slide down, then up again with a seductive twinkle. “Many worse places, Marlowe,” she repeated. “But not many better.”
“Not any better.”
It was the first time she’d heard it. The unbridled desire. The hunger. The barely leashed restraint she’d sensed in kisses that had taken him to the edge, but never allowed him to tumble.
There were times, she decided, when self-control needed a good sucker punch.
His gaze steady, Marlowe ran his hands up and under the sleeves of her robe. Dark rose silk, like the flush that swept across her skin. His gaze skimmed her body beneath the delicate fabric. The light in his eyes deepened as he inclined his head.
Darcy glimpsed a predatory expression on his amazing features. A second later, she lost both the vision and her train of thought.
His mouth on hers was pure fire, greed fueling hunger, hunger spawning a much deeper need.
Her hands explored the sleek muscles of his shoulders and back. Everything about him reminded her of a panther, right down to the murky darkness that seemed to dwell in his soul.
The needful curl in her stomach spread through her body. He made a sound in his throat that brought a deep shiver. Something feral and instinctive, like an animal.
Were they moving? Darcy thought they might be. Or did the sensation of floating come from the twist of colored light outside the windows?
Her hands went to work on the snap of his pants. Heat radiated from him.
She gave a muffled cry when his mouth found her breast. Her head fell back, her breath emerged as a shocked gasp.
When her heart pounded, she welcomed it, used it, savored the strong, hard beat and every other sensation that rocked her.
Her feverish fingers tugged at his shirt, worked it off. The ends of his hair skimmed her neck. Hungry for more, she pulled and yanked and probably tore.
Her robe fluttered to the floor. Her feet left the solid surface as her legs locked around his hips.
Skin to skin, Marlowe laid her against the downy duvet, burning her flesh from head to toe.
Her mind whipped and whirled. Her belly quivered. He was all flesh and bone and long, supple muscle. When his mouth returned to feed on hers, she breathed into him and cupped his face.
She didn’t want to sample, she wanted to taste. To know. To drink in the complex flavors of the man.
He rolled her under him and she felt the full force of his erection. Sensation erupted, so intense it brought a surge of white heat to her throat and abdomen. Need speared downward between her legs and made her breath hitch. Her fingernails bit into his back. Her hips bucked.
“Whoa,” he said softly in her ear. “I want this to last. For both of us.”
Now, there was an intriguing thought. Through the myriad sensations clashing wildly inside her, amusement reared its head.
Grabbing two fistfuls of hair, Darcy held fast, not to keep him close, but to hold him away, just enough so their lips no longer touched.
“So near and yet so far.” She moved her head, didn’t quite graze his mouth. “Is this what you want, Marlowe? The pain of self-denial?”
A hint of a smile appeared. In spite of her stranglehold on hi
s hair, he kissed her. “Yeah, this is it. I love the pain. I love all of it.”
Lowering his head, he set his lips on the hollow spot at the base of her throat. “It’s early, Darcy, as nights go. We’ve got a lot of hours left.”
Relaxing her grip, she nuzzled his cheek. “Aren’t you the patient one all of a sudden.”
“Not patient,” he corrected, still with that faint smile. “Just in tune with my body.” In the shimmering wash of light, his eyes caught and held hers. “With my soul.”
The sparkle gentled. Maybe sweet had its merits after all.
To her delight, it also had its limits, even for Marlowe. When his mouth took possession of hers again, gentle quickly gave way to savage, restraint to urgency.
Her body assumed a life of its own. She let her neck arch and sensation rule as wave after pleasured wave poured through her, sweeping the world and all its problems away.
He moved against her in that lovely sexual rhythm she’d somehow known would beat between them. He cuffed her wrists briefly on either side of her head, then released and laced his fingers through hers.
She bit the lobe of his ear, skimmed her teeth along his jaw, nipped his lower lip. He answered by using his tongue, delving into the deepest regions of her mouth and robbing her of breath.
At the sound in her throat, he lifted his head, smiled and brought his body up over hers.
Even by the faint light of the stars through the bedroom window, Darcy couldn’t miss the gleam in his eyes. Invigorated, she freed and lowered her hands, then closed her fingers around him. She drew him deep, deep inside.
Need and hunger collided. Sparks snapped to flame. Everything shifted, everything turned hazy, inside and out.
Darcy’s hips came up. Her legs tightened and held. She rode him as he plunged into her. Once, twice, again and again. With every thrust, her heart slammed against her ribs.
More, was all she thought. More and more and more.
It stunned her that she could feel so much without feeling any one thing at all. If the whole was better than the sum of its parts, this had to be the universe, this truly staggering climax like nothing she’d imagined and even now only half believed. It tossed her up in an eruption of fire and swept her seamlessly over the peak.
Where had this come from? she wondered distantly. This passion. Had it been living inside her all her life, and was she only realizing it now, with Marlowe?
The question died, simply faded away like a single dark cloud in a sky gone soft and luminous.
Time stopped, or seemed to. Until…
With her body limp and her mind still dazed, Darcy became aware of Marlowe lying on top of her. Or more correctly, collapsed on top of her.
She didn’t know if it was his heart or hers that thundered against her breast. She only knew she couldn’t move, couldn’t swallow, could barely breathe.
Was this shell shock? The aftermath of an explosion too powerful to deal with? Might be closer to implosion in her case, but whatever it was, the leftover force rocked her almost as strongly as it had when she’d been trapped in the center of it.
Her hands lay on either side of her head, fingers curled. A form of surrender? The notion brought a smile—which was good, because it proved at least some of her muscles worked.
She continued to float, to savor. Life just didn’t get any better than this. Body to body, with Marlowe inside her and the danger far, far away.
The physical danger, anyway.
“Go away,” she directed the stray thought and, closing her eyes, concentrated on the moment.
“If you’re talking to me, use my voice mail.” Marlowe spoke facedown into her hair. “I’m incommunicado for the next week.”
“I don’t think the hotel will let us keep the room that long.” Darcy kissed his hair, smiled as she stroked the ends. “Pretty sure I heard something about a medical convention.”
“Might come in handy if we try that again.”
“Only if we wind up dead. It’s a convention of forensic pathologists. But, hey, no harm in trying. Whoa!” She laughed when he grabbed her. “What are you doing?”
The laugh became a gasp as he rolled them both over. Suddenly she was on top of him, her hands on his shoulders, her legs straddling his hips.
“I wanted a better view,” he said with a grin.
Darcy let her palms slide along his ribs. She leaned forward, until her mouth was less than an inch from his. “I believe I like it up here, Mr. P.I. Makes me feel very powerful.”
“Really? It’s making me hard.”
“Hard and fast. As always, I’m impressed. Fair warning, though. I have extremely high standards.” She sank her teeth lightly into his bottom lip. “By morning, I expect to be completely blown away.”
Chapter Twelve
Marlowe didn’t know if he’d met her expectations or not, but she sure as hell had met his. Exceeded and shattered them, in fact.
As dawn crept over the horizon, he rolled onto his back and stared at the shifting shadows on the ceiling.
A glass of wine would be good, but he didn’t need it as much as he needed a clear head, so he’d settle for a shot of caffeine and a wicked new memory.
Darcy had rocked him last night. She’d swept his barriers aside as if they were air. Then she’d wrapped herself around him, body and soul, until all he could see, all he could think about, taste and feel was her.
She was incredible, with her sleek curves, her soft skin and her silky hair. She was heat and color and light. She was fire and she was steel.
She was more than his messed-up brain could deal with right now. So he’d deal later, he decided, and, moving carefully, got out of bed.
Asleep on her stomach, she looked like an angel, with her head turned on the pillow and her fingers curled loosely on the sheet. An angel with a kick.
Unbidden, a song played in his memory as he headed for the bathroom. Whoever had taken her from outside the casino had been playing Elvis, he remembered. Might be a clue. Might not.
Ditto Umer Lugo’s private client list. Darcy had recognized three names. It didn’t necessarily follow that any of those people wanted her dead. It only meant she knew their names.
Could the killer still be Vince Maco or someone connected to him?
Marlowe’s cop sense said no. But his instincts weren’t infallible. It wouldn’t hurt to concentrate on several different areas. If he could ever concentrate again after last night.
The bath Darcy had run was cold, the bubbles long since popped. As he turned on the water in the marble shower, Marlowe wondered if his own bubble would do the same thing before this was over. Did he want it to pop, or, God help him, did he want to start something entirely different in his life?
Swearing softly, he turned the hot water up higher. He’d felt the burn inside too many times to count last night. Now he wanted it on his skin.
He was in the shower and soaping his shoulders when he spied her through the glass door. Leaning against the vanity, she had her arms folded loosely across her robe-covered chest and one bare foot hooked over the other.
“There are better ways to exorcise demons or erase memories than by searing off a layer of skin, Marlowe. Last night was incredible, but as I’ve said before, not a lifetime commitment.”
He stopped scrubbing to brace his hands on the wall in front of him and send her a faintly ironic sideways look. “I agree, it was phenomenal. But it’s not a fear of commitment I’m trying to sear off. It’s fear, plain and simple.”
Pushing upright, she let her robe fall open—and instantly sent his pulse rate through the roof.
“Would that fear involve me, yourself or everything that’s happened?”
His laugh had a rough edge. “Take your pick, Darcy. They all work.” He looked away. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, about my life, my past.”
Now it was her turn to laugh. “Oh, Marlowe, I could say exactly the same thing to you. You’re not alone, and I’m not eas
ily shocked. Or put off. Or undone.”
She started toward him, into the hot spray. “As for last night, I have to say I was a bit shocked. I was also completely undone. But nothing about you has put me off to this point, so why would you think anything could?”
Letting her robe drop, she slid a seductive finger along his side, from ribs to buttocks.
“Which brings us full circle to those secrets we both appear to have. Guess maybe we should deal with some of them, huh?”
“Yeah, we could do that.” His voice came out so grainy, he barely recognized it. Shoving off, he turned the water temperature down and with his other hand, drew her into the full, warm spray. “Or we could do this instead.”
And with his eyes locked on her face, he slowly lowered his mouth to hers.
THIS WASN’T ACCEPTABLE!
The P.I. could help her the way a P.I. was supposed to, but touching her wasn’t allowed.
She belonged to him. Okay, she didn’t know it yet because maybe he hadn’t made himself clear in the beginning. But crossing the P.I. out of the picture he’d given her should have made some kind of statement. Like, hello, Darcy, send the guy packing before he gets crossed out for real.
Which had almost happened once already and definitely would again.
His chest heaved as one ugly thought after another streaked through his head. Feeling the rage, he pressed his fists to his temples.
Control, he reminded himself. Don’t be angry. Put on the false face. Wear it, work it, make them believe. Then…pow!
He played the music in his head…
No, no, it’s not healthy to obsess. Don’t fixate.
The King’s good. He’s great…
Don’t get stuck on him. Don’t stick on anything. On anyone.
The woman’s beautiful. She’s perfect…
Never use that word! Bad word! Bad concept!
Man, it was hard to please some people. Okay, she’s flawless. Better?
The music played on. Soon “Heartbreak Hotel” would fade away. Tricky job, though, to hit on the final song. Something that mirrored what Darcy was now.