by Dianna Love
They were draped half on and half off.
Her panties slid down her legs and his fingers took their place, stroking through the wet heat. He clamped his mouth on her breast and she clawed at his shoulders.
He still had on his shirt.
She was too far gone, headed for Oh-My-God Land to care about being the only naked one in the room right now.
His tongue tortured first one nipple, then moved to the other one. She grabbed his hair, loving that it was longer again. When his finger drove inside her she clenched it and lifted her hips, urging him to end this need consuming her.
He hadn’t forgotten a thing about her. He stroked over the bundle of nerves waiting in a frenzied panic for him and sucked her breast at the same time, then touched her just the way only he knew how to do, and her climax ripped her in half, going on and on and on.
He never stopped kissing her while she slowly came back down to land on Earth again.
Lips danced over her breasts and she felt an aftershock buzz. She laughed. “Stop or I’ll have cardiac arrest. It’s been too long.”
“Oh?” He held himself up with his arms, dropping his head to keep teasing her.
She was not discussing her sexual drought. His ego didn’t need stroking, but that erection bumping against her did.
He said, “Your phone is singing a tune.”
Really? She listened when the ringtone played. Henri’s. That was a good sign and reason for her to be diving for the phone, but she was barely breathing. “It’s business. I’ll call him back.”
Dingo peppered kisses across her face then stopped again. “Is it Charlie? You should let me check him out. Introduce me to him.”
Charlie? She pulled her head back from Dingo. “Are you really going there with me?”
“Yes, I am. I want to know who he is and where he came from,” Dingo said, stumbling over his words as if he was trying to figure out what to say.
Talk about a cold slap of reality. “You want to investigate Charlie to see if he’s connected to this other group who you won’t name but keep trying to convince me is a threat?”
Dingo’s head popped up and via what little light permeated this darkness she saw some thought slide into home plate. Dingo nodded. “Actually, I do.”
She shoved away from him, breaking the heated contact.
The past came roaring back again, but not the sexy parts. No, this was a reminder of how their connection had been all about her ability to research anything and anyone.
Was he here for her?
Was he here for work?
Was he giving her a line of crap so she’d let him back into her life again, and trying to drive a wedge between her and Charlie to make sure no other guy was in the way?
Or was Dingo telling her the truth?
She might know if she knew Dingo better, but she didn’t. The one person in all this she had no reason to believe was him.
She’d spent years making herself accept that she’d been nothing more than a resource and convenient lay for him. One kiss and all that hard work to regain her sanity had gone flying out the window.
“What is it that you really want, Dingo? This visit is clearly not about me or us, but something you have cooking. Some project or mission or whatever the hell 007 crap you have going on.”
“Val, you don’t understand–”
“You’re right. I don’t understand and I’m sick to death of guessing all the time. Get up!”
He pushed to his feet.
It was hard to carry off dignified when she stood bare to the world so she reached over for her kimono robe that lived at the foot of her bed and pulled it on, talking as she did.
“You either come clean and tell me exactly what is going on right now, including names and specifics, or get the hell out.”
He huffed a breath filled with exasperation. “I can’t tell you some things–”
Talk about déjà vu. She yanked the tie on her belt and shouted, “Get. Out!”
“I’m not going to leave you exposed to a risk.”
That again? Had he forgotten that when someone triggered her temper the best place to be was thousands of miles away? “Right now, you are the biggest danger in my life if you go near Charlie. He’s very important to me.”
Dingo wiped his hands over his face and looked around the room then back at Valene. “If he’s such a bloody special client, what are you doing with the money? Why are you living here?”
Humiliation boiled up her throat. “Sorry it’s not the plush apartment you frequented years ago.”
“I don’t give a damn what your apartment looks like, but something has clearly changed since I was here last. What happened?”
She clenched her teeth. “If you really cared, you’d have been around to know the answer to that. Leave or I’m calling the police and you should remember enough about me to know when I’m not bluffing.”
Chapter 11
Dingo didn’t say anything at first, but when he moved toward the door he paused to look back at Valene standing in the middle of this crappy apartment. He’d thought convincing her that Charlie might not be above board had been a bloody brilliant idea.
Evidently not.
He surprised himself by being able to talk with his heart lodged in his throat. “I do care about you, Val, and I did care before. There’s a lot you don’t know that happened in my life, too.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Mine. I can’t change the last seven years, but I’m trying to do right by you now. I wish you’d believe me.”
“When you’re ready to tell me the truth, everything involved in you being here right down to names of the mystery group, then I’ll consider listening, but that doesn’t mean I’ll believe you or dance around on your puppet strings. Not again.”
She was no one’s puppet, least of all his.
“You know it was never like that between us,” he argued softly. “I never wanted to control you. Never tried to box you in or tie you down. I’m sorry I had to leave without telling you, but talking to you back then would have gotten you hurt ... or killed.” He didn’t want to leave, but if he showed up at the safe house now, he could slip away again before anyone figured out he hadn’t been gone all night. “Are you in for the evening, Val?”
“That’s none of your business.”
True, but he waited silently on her answer.
She grumbled, “Yes. If I have any more unexpected guests, I’m shooting first and talking later.”
He got that message loud and clear. “I’ll try to end this threat as soon as I can and watch over you from a distance, but I won’t promise to stay out of your life. If you put a restraining order on me, it will make it harder to protect you, but it won’t stop me. Not if I need to get to you. Nothing can stop me from keeping you from harm.”
The silence following that admission sucked the air from the room. That had to be the reason it hurt so much to breathe.
He was torn between walking out the door and walking back to her, but he knew her too well to believe he could patch the bridge that had just crashed between them.
He stepped out and closed the door silently behind him.
~*~
Valene stared at the empty space Dingo had left. A moment ago, he’d filled up all the lonely spaces in her apartment. Every breath dragged a reminder of Dingo back through her body.
She wanted to believe what he was saying, but once again he expected blind faith out of her and gave nothing in return.
Why couldn’t you give me something, Dingo?
The distance between them physically couldn’t be closed again until he was willing to meet her emotionally. She wouldn’t survive another round of dropping her defenses and letting him back in for days or a month only to have him saunter off without a word again.
She just stood there, too drained to finish undressing or to fall on the bed in a heap of misery. She’d call Henri back and meet him in the morning.
Not because she�
��d told Dingo she was staying home, either.
She was tired and would be more up for facing Henri tomorrow.
Her phone played Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love A Bad Name” ringtone.
She muttered, “Moment’s over, back to the chaos.” She got her phone from her purse and cut the second play of the ringtone short. “Did you get my message, Henri?”
“Yes, I did. I also received one from Aram. Any chance you two are after the same item?”
That son of a bitch. “Do not deal with him.”
“I need the money, Va-lene,” he said, treating her name like a rubber band he stretched for amusement. “You and I have not done business in a long time. I can’t risk losing money by turning down what is a certainty over a maybe.”
“I’ve got the deal of the year right now. Do not mess this up by talking to Aram.”
“He said if he did not come by before I leave tonight, he’d be here in the morning.”
That answered her question of whether Henri was still at work. “Meet me first.”
Henri took his time responding. “It’s late. I’ve had a long day and am still here only because I needed to sort through some inventory. Be here in thirty minutes. That’s all I’m willing to wait and I make no promises. I’m calling you back only out of professional etiquette. Do not make me regret that by causing me to miss an opportunity to make money that I need.”
Henri knew her father had been sick, but she hadn’t told him about the recent bad turn of events or that she had to fork over ten grand for a special treatment plan, so she couldn’t curse Henri for being self-centered.
She told him, “Just do me one favor and hear me out before you meet with Aram. Please.”
“Thirty minutes.” He hung up.
Showers were overrated. She cleaned up quickly and set a new land speed record for traveling through LA during the late rush hour. A competitive runner could have arrived ahead of her if not for the exhaust fumes that would have taken down the healthiest athlete.
She had a moment of guilt for telling Dingo she was staying in, but he’d lied to her time and again, if not directly, then by omission. She didn’t have to explain her schedule to anyone.
When Highway 110 ended north of LA, it dropped her in Pasadena, a cozy area with history and panache.
A wave of longing hit her hard.
She didn’t miss being married, which was odd to admit sometimes, but she did miss living here in her gorgeous condo with a view of the mountains. Their home had been filled with antiques she’d thought of as her children, and Henri had been just as attached. Each purchase had been chosen for a reason beyond financial value and came with history that told stories of times long past.
Her furniture had been more interesting than a lot of people she knew.
Henri no longer lived in luxury either, but he’d sunk all of his savings into a specialty shop with his new love, an expert on maps and rare documents, especially anything relating to Galileo.
If not for his expert, Valene wouldn’t be preparing herself to beg her ex-husband.
She’d do it, though.
When she’d swung by to see her dad today, he’d agreed to the treatment program as long as she swore to him it would not sink her financially. A high power bill could do that these days, but she’d answered honestly when she’d told him she had a powerful client with an unusual request.
One that would not just pay well, but help put her back on top of her game again.
That news had brought light back into her dad’s eyes.
She hadn’t shared that she was hunting for a scroll practically no one knew about, but the main reason she didn’t was because drugs affected her dad to the point that he babbled at times. In his right mind, she could’ve trusted him without putting herself at risk with Smith or the Vatican.
Pulling into a strip center, she parked in front of Lost Adventura, the middle business in a single-level building that also housed an insurance office on one side and a dog groomer on the other.
The only redeeming value to this place was the low cost per square foot.
Henri knew how important location was for antiques or antiquities sales, but he couldn’t afford to be in the center of the Pasadena historic area where his operation might thrive. He’d sunk his savings into inventory of rare maps and documents. He was banking heavily on his new partner, who brought the kind of knowledge of those specific items that was a step beyond Valene’s expertise, much as she hated to admit it.
But Henri should be thrilled she wanted to tap into that cornucopia of information, right?
She took it as a positive sign that she didn’t see Aram’s car as she locked hers and walked across pavement that hadn’t been maintained in so long the striped lines were gone.
She shook her head at Henri.
He’d tried to convince her to open a storefront with him when they were together. He wanted a place of business, because Henri needed the structure of going in to work every day at the same place and the same time.
That had been just one more issue between them.
It was clearly not an issue in his new relationship.
He’d never understood that Val liked having no idea where she was going to be from day to day or what her next contract would bring. Her conscience snorted at that.
She had liked that way of life at one time.
Back when she had people waiting in line for her services.
Gas lamps mounted on each side of Lost Adventura’s entrance flickered light on the exterior wall. The front was covered with vintage bricks, giving the façade a timeworn appearance. Victorian trim ran across the top and down the sides, and around the two tall, narrow windows to the left of the door. The standard shopping center glass-and-metal door had been replaced with one made of weathered oak, bleached by age and carved with a lion’s profile. It swung on black hinges shaped as tridents.
She pulled the door open using the curved iron handle, then stepped over the threshold, pausing to take in how the inside contradicted the outside beyond the brick fascia.
To Henri’s credit, the minute she entered the shop it was as if she’d passed through a rift in time. She inhaled the rich fragrance of ancient history clinging to artifacts that had traveled across century upon century.
Light filled the space, glowing everywhere and nowhere.
Henri had an unmatched touch for subtle lighting that had complimented their vintage furnishings back when.
The room before her unfolded with eighteenth century bookcases placed strategically at intervals along the walls, and three sitting areas cordoned off with narrow burgundy curtains drawn back on each side. The closest alcove offered cushy sofas surrounding a beautiful red-lacquered tea table. Sixteenth century Chinese. At the rear of the room, a huge architect’s drafting table had been placed beneath a spotlight where someone could unroll a fragile map.
Or a scroll.
Her gaze halted on the beautiful man who appeared next to the drawing table. His hair had once been bright red, but had turned more cinnamon as he’d aged. Sports had never been his calling, which left him with a trim body that could wear any suit with style and grace, such as the dark blue one he had on today. His eyes were the shade of green that reminded her of spring, but Henri’s smile had been his best attribute.
Something he wasn’t sharing with her right now.
His face was impassive as ever. The unflappable Henri.
“Bonjour, Valene,” he said, strolling forward with that same lazy gait that had driven the girls in high school as crazy as when he spoke his smoky French.
Valene used to tease him that he didn’t sound sexy to her. He’d scowl and threaten to give up their friendship until she admitted his voice was the ultimate.
Friendship. Such a simple word that, to a high school student, wielded great power, or great anguish, in equal measures, and still did. “Hello Henri. Your shop is beautiful.”
He dipped his head politely in acknowledgment, but not b
efore she saw how much her compliment meant.
She should have come by sooner, but she hadn’t been in the best frame of mind for a while, and could admit she hadn’t been up to seeing Henri happy when she was so miserable.
But she should have forced herself to be the bigger person for sake of their friendship, and might have done so if they hadn’t been on bad terms for so long.
That was her fault, because of all she’d said to him in anger.
He waved her toward a sitting area that allowed them both a view of the shop. Once she was seated, he said, “I wondered when you would deem us worthy of a visit.”
And here she’d been feeling glad to see him and beating herself mentally for not stopping by sooner. “I’ve been busy.”
He flipped his hand in an I-suppose gesture.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I sent you congratulations flowers when you opened your doors.”
“They arrived as intended. I wrote you a thank you note.”
He had a burr up his backside and she might as well deal with that so they could talk business. “Clearly I’m missing what I did wrong.”
“It is not that I lack appreciation for the gesture, but there are two of us here and only one name was noted on the florist’s card.”
Is he seriously put out because I didn’t include my replacement’s name on the card?
Their breakup had been civil. Almost too civil. On his part at least. She’d had a hard time showing any restraint when it came to sharing her view on the matter.
To be fair, she hadn’t suffered after he left, not like when Dingo had gone, but she’d lost her best friend since high school. For Henri to expect her to be chummy with his new love was a bit much even for him.
Don’t lose sight of the goal. Her dad had told her that often.
“I didn’t mean to slight anyone, Henri. I sent the bouquet for the shop, which should have encompassed you and everything in here.”
Besides, you haven’t kept up with my life either, she wanted to say, but that would only start an argument. Seven years ago, they’d shared grief and secrets. She’d promised herself on the way here that she would do her part to behave professionally, try to fix the damage to their friendship and not bring past history into this meeting.