Sheer Pleasure

by Patricia Rosemoor

  His tone seduced her into complying. She quickly touched the silk, then removed her fingers as if she’d burned them.

  “It’s smoother,” she said, keeping her voice even. “Cooler.”

  “Mmm, I wish I was there so I could feel for myself.”

  Annie almost asked him who said she’d let him, but the words never came. She would let him and she knew it. And so did Nate.

  “Where would you do it?” she asked. “Touch me, I mean.”

  “Everywhere. Do it for me, Annie. Touch yourself.”

  “Um, once was enough.”

  But he ignored her objection and went on. “Run your hand down your belly and spread your thighs just a little. Touch yourself there.”

  Heat flooded her and a throbbing began exactly there. Her hand seemed to move on its own, and she couldn’t hold back a shaky sound when her fingers touched the damp spot on her panties.

  Turned on by the idea of what she was doing, Annie nevertheless stopped when the heat of embarrassment flooded her. “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

  “C’mon, Annie, don’t get so upset,” Nate said smoothly. “After all, it’s only a game.”

  6

  ONLY A GAME…

  Those words echoed in Annie’s head all night and all Friday when she wasn’t busy with a customer. The second letter from her admirer had been all about playing games, so what was she supposed to think? And when she finally made it to the post office with the orders from the Website, she was tempted to ask to speak to her carrier and ask him if he knew anything about the letter.

  But then what?

  The letters had been more titillating than threatening, the reason she’d defended them to Helen.

  It was the game thing that bothered her, she decided. Her trust had been tarnished long ago, after the way Alan Cooper had played with her head.

  But Nate wasn’t Alan. Nate could be trusted.

  Once she settled that in her mind, her tension eased.

  No matter how much time had gone by, making those comparisons seemed impossible to stop. She felt absolutely Pavlovian sometimes, her reflex actions never letting up. Annie wished she could just get over the past, as Nick and Helen kept urging her to do.

  She decided she wouldn’t give either of them ammunition against Nate by telling them about her suspicions. After all, she didn’t know for certain if Nate had written those letters. So discretion was called for when Helen arrived at the shop to meet her for the gallery opening. Annie didn’t need her already disapproving friend on her case double-time.

  As usual, Helen was in style, in magenta-silk cropped pants with little tassels at the calves and a cropped, salmon-silk top with even more tassels that kissed her flesh when she moved. Her feet were encased in backless pink-and-orange sandals with bizarrely shaped heels. And her hair was up in some kind of exotic do, with little fountains of blond curls that jiggled when she walked.

  Feeling dowdy by comparison, Annie locked the shop door and headed back to the dressing room, where she’d changed clothes and put on a bit of makeup.

  “I’ll be ready as soon as I can figure out what to do with this hair.”

  “You’re wearing a dress!” Helen said, as if suddenly noticing.

  Annie looked down at the simple gray wraparound garment with flowing skirts, a throwback to her college days, but one that she’d hoped still looked in style. “Retarded, right?”

  “No, I’m just surprised,” Helen said, following her into the dressing room.

  Cream-colored with pale pink accents wasn’t her style, either, Annie thought, but she had to admit that the dressing room held the aura of romance, especially the plush chairs and the settee upholstered in soft rose shot with gold. Her customers loved it—one had jokingly threatened to move her bed in.

  Helen said, “I haven’t seen you so fancied up since… Hey, wait a minute, are you wearing that dress to impress Nathaniel?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “You expect him to be there, don’t you?”

  “Not Nathaniel, no.”

  Annie glanced at herself in the mirror and wondered if she’d made a mistake with the gray dress, after all. The makeup looked pretty good though, despite her having to wear glasses to see. The reflection in the mirror gave her pause. Behind her, Helen had crossed her arms over her chest and was glaring at her.

  “Okay, so you’re looking forward to seeing Nate, then, right?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Annie tried to act casual. “He’ll be here in—” she checked her watch “—fifteen minutes.”

  “What? You actually made another date with him?”

  “A first date.”

  His chasing a rodent and setting up a picnic in the forest preserve on the way home didn’t count.

  “Don’t split hairs.”

  “Helen!” Annie faced her and pleaded, “Before you say anything else negative, know that I like Nate, okay? No, that’s not exactly true. I like Nathaniel. But Nate…well, Nate is…”

  “Dangerous?” Helen asked, before Annie could come up with a better word like gorgeous or exciting or hot.

  “Why dangerous? Because he rides a motorcycle?”

  “Because he’s playing games with you.”

  Though she was certain Helen couldn’t have made the same connection that she herself had, Annie shifted uneasily. “You don’t know any such thing!”

  But she did. Only a game… He’d said so.

  “Okay, I’ll reserve judgment,” Helen agreed. “For the evening, anyway.”

  “Thank you. Now, about my hair…”

  “Just sit and let me at it.”

  Annie wanted something softer than normal, but not too radical. Helen worked wonders with hair, but she had a whole different style, one that suited her bombshell looks. So Annie couldn’t help being nervous, seeing that glint in her friend’s eyes. But as always, Helen came through for her, making a loose French braid on one side, leaving a fall of rippling strands over one shoulder. Then she wound some silver ribbon from the shop around the rubber band to hide it, and wove the long tails through the loose hair.

  Annie smiled when Helen let her look in the mirror. “I approve.”

  “Me, too,” said a male voice behind them.

  Heart racing, Annie turned to see Nate leaning against the doorjamb. No leathers on him tonight. Instead, he wore a deep blue shirt open at the throat and a pair of casual khaki pants and loafers.

  All thoughts of game playing and danger flew from her mind, replaced by old-fashioned lust.

  NATE WAS STARING appreciatively at Annie and at the dress he hoped she’d worn for him when Helen said, “Nathaniel, what a surprise.”

  He turned to the café owner. “Annie didn’t tell you that I was joining you?”

  “Oh, she told me, all right. But she also locked the front door, and yet here you are.”

  “I knocked on the window, but I guess you couldn’t hear me in here.”

  “So you just used your passkey?”

  “Actually, I came in through the back door.” He looked beyond Helen to Annie. “I figured I might get your attention if I knocked there, but it was already open.”

  “The back door was open?” Annie said. “I could have sworn I locked that one, too.”

  “You obviously weren’t in your right mind,” Helen said. “You haven’t been for days.” She gave Nate a piercing look before she brushed by him.

  He couldn’t miss the disapproval in her stiff posture. What was Helen’s problem with him?

  “She’s overprotective,” Annie whispered, now close enough that he was affected by her light floral scent. “But she’ll loosen up around you once she gets to know you.”

  What the hell was that supposed to mean? Helen did know him, if not as well as Annie. He’d been her landlord for months now.

  Surely she didn’t suspect…

  Nate prepared himself for anything, but Helen didn’t even speak to him as they left Annie’s Attic and set off across the street,
where Gallery R was bursting with people—more wine drinkers than patrons, he figured.

  A half hour later, he and Annie sipped at their own glasses of wine while strolling into the back room of the gallery. Helen had done a disappearing act within minutes of their arrival, but now Nate saw that she was talking to John Riley.

  The gallery owner looked up and saw them. Though Helen kept talking, Riley seemed to lose focus on whatever she was saying. His expression seemed…almost hostile. Had Helen been badmouthing him? Nate wondered.

  Irritated, he turned to a wall of framed photographs and raised his eyebrows in appreciative surprise. “Hmm, this is some good work.”

  Annie glanced at the photographs, the subjects of which were women in various stages of undress.

  “You can get more bang for your buck with a Playboy,” she commented. “I understand they have good articles, too.”

  Nate immediately swept Annie away from what he feared she would see as competition. He’d made a mistake on the phone with her. After she’d gotten so weird around him the day before, he didn’t want any more negative thoughts entering her head where he was concerned.

  And so approaching Helen and Riley was a big mistake.

  “You’ve got a great crowd,” Annie told the gallery owner.

  “Yeah, I’m pleased,” the man agreed. “Now if only the sales will match the turnout.”

  “How about you, big spender?” Helen asked, and Nate realized she was talking to him. “Don’t you need some artwork for your office? Oops, sorry, that’s not you, is it? That’s Nathaniel Bishop, our landlord.” Her tone was just short of snide.

  Nate simply stared. He couldn’t figure out why Helen was suddenly so hostile to him.

  Not unless Nick had let something slip….

  Surely not. Helen wasn’t the type of woman who would keep that kind of information to herself. She would feel obliged to tell Annie everything she knew. And then it would be all over; he’d known that going in.

  “Excuse us, I could use some air,” Nate said, placing an arm around Annie’s waist and leading her back the way they’d come.

  “Where are we going?”

  “For a walk.”

  “But the opening… Helen…”

  “I think Helen’s doing all right for herself,” Nate said through clenched teeth. He stopped dead in his tracks. “But if staying is important to you, of course we can.”

  Annie looked back to where her friend was still talking to the gallery owner. And Riley was again staring in their direction, Nate noticed. He tried not to show how anxious he was to get out of there, while Annie made up her mind.

  “What the heck,” she finally said. “We made our appearance. Let’s get out of here.”

  Once they were out of the gallery, Nate glanced over at her display window across the street. Annie had changed the display so that the female mannequin was now stepping out of her trousers, revealing a red satin thong bottom.

  Thinking about seeing Annie in one of those got him hard in an instant. Was she wearing one? he wondered.

  Maybe tonight he would find out.

  “I DIDN’T REALIZE you lived so close by,” Annie said as they walked north on Damen Avenue. When Nate had suggested they stop by his place, she’d hardly hesitated before agreeing.

  “My commercial properties are nearby, so living here made sense,” he said. “Besides, I like the neighborhood. You know, the local color can be pretty entertaining.”

  Indeed, on this lovely spring night the streets teemed with people, mostly in their twenties and early thirties. In addition to the more conservative crowd, there were the dyed and the tattooed and the pierced.

  “I think we have more body piercings per square block than in any other neighborhood in the city,” she said, spotting a couple that had all three eye-catching attributes.

  Though the night air had cooled greatly, dozens of customers anticipating summer packed the local restaurants, while others crowded around little sidewalk tables outside of the many small cafés that lined the street. Personally, Annie was glad for Nate’s arm around her, adding extra warmth.

  At the end of the block, they turned onto a side street with historic “sunken” buildings. Annie knew that at one time the streets had been raised, and what had once been first floors in houses and apartment buildings had literally gone underground.

  Nate’s building was one of those. Constructed of brown brick, it had some nice touches she could see by streetlight—decorative tiles and stained-glass inserts in windows.

  “Did you renovate the building yourself?” she asked, as they walked up to what now was the first-floor porch.

  “I have to admit I bought the building in really good shape. It already had new kitchens and baths, and redone hardwood floors. I just added a few touches of my own.”

  Inside the vestibule, he opened another door and they climbed another set of stairs.

  “You like living high,” she mused.

  “I sort of duplexed my apartment.”

  Nathaniel, all Nathaniel, she thought, as they swept through a living area that was all beige and cream and caramel. She barely got a glimpse of the place before he led her up yet another staircase, to a door that didn’t look original to the building.

  Then he opened the door and the cool night air flowed over her.

  “The roof?”

  He led her outside, beneath a pergola entwined with blooming vines that smelled heavenly, and then out into the open. The rooftop was pure Nate, she noted with satisfaction.

  Trees in planters. And flowers, lots of flowers. Some spilled from traditional containers, but most peeked from more fanciful objects—an old washtub, packing crates, even an old-fashioned pedestal sink.

  “From commercial buildings I’ve renovated,” he told her. “I hate waste.”

  “It’s wonderful. How often do you use it?” she asked, checking out the lawn furniture, including a swing for two, a hammock and a small table and chairs tucked under the pergola.

  “Not often enough, but once in awhile, especially at night. Sometimes I sleep out here.”

  He turned her by the shoulders so that she was facing southeast, and walked her over to the railing, a sturdy steel affair that would keep them from tumbling off the building. The view was incredible. The downtown skyline sparkled against the night sky, the skyscraper lights competing with the brilliant stars overhead.

  “Such a clear night. So beautiful.” Still she couldn’t keep from shivering.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Just a little chilled,” she said, and it wasn’t entirely a fib.

  “I can fix that.”

  Of course he could. He wrapped his arms around her. But his body heat didn’t melt away the doubts that intruded uninvited—doubts that Helen had brought up. No, Annie couldn’t put all the blame on her friend. She’d been fighting doubts since the night before….

  But those doubts began melting away as Nate held her protectively, his head against hers, his warm breath laving her ear. Looking out over the city spread before them, Annie felt as if they were standing together at the edge of the world. Her stomach took a tumble—she’d never liked heights—but she fought the sensation.

  She leaned back into Nate, rested her head against his shoulder, which fully exposed her throat. He took immediate advantage, lightly running his hand along its curve, dusting it with his warmth. Not the only place affected, she realized, as warmth curled through her stomach and spread a light glow of tension along her nerves.

  Annie sighed. “That’s nice.”

  “Is it?”

  “Mmm.”

  “What else is nice?”

  “You.”

  “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment,” Nate murmured in her ear. “I meant what else would feel nice?”

  Remembering the phone conversation in which he’d nearly seduced her, she cautiously murmured, “Everything.”

  “That’s a pretty big order. Can we start small?”

>   Laughing, she tried to turn in his arms for a kiss—that was a start, right?—but he held her fast, face forward against the railing.

  “Nate, let me go.”

  “I don’t think so.” His voice roughened. “You don’t want me to.”

  Annie tried to turn again, with no success. “How do you know what I want?”

  “I’m psychic. I can read you, Annie Wilder. I can fulfill your wildest fantasies.”

  Her pulse suddenly rushing through her at his statement, she murmured, “Then why are you asking me what I want when you should know?”

  “Trying to be polite…but maybe you don’t want polite. Is that it?”

  She experienced a moment’s unease. Surely he wouldn’t try to force her to do something that she didn’t want to do.

  But this was Nate, she reminded herself, the man who had twice stopped himself the moment she’d indicated that she’d had enough.

  “So what do you want, Annie?” Nate asked. “This?”

  He slid his hands up the front of her dress, then cupped her breasts. Sensation spiraled through her.

  “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  She rocked back into him, felt him hard against her buttocks.

  “Tell me, Annie. Tell me what you want.”

  He was doing it to her again, trying to get her to talk like he had on the phone. “More,” she mumbled.

  “More what? More of the same? More variety?”

  “Yes.”

  He squeezed her breasts gently and she thought she might faint. But he held her fast while his hands worked their way down to her waist. Sensations shot through her and multiplied, and when his fingers found the tie at her waist that had been keeping her dress together, she started.

  Did he mean to remove her dress here, in public?

  Then again, a rooftop garden in the dark wasn’t exactly the same as the middle of a busy street, even if there were people coming and going below. Even if they looked up. She doubted they could see much.

  “If you want me to stop, say so, Annie,” he whispered in her ear.

  She should tell him to stop. She should. But her body had other demands. She shook her head instead.