"It's very sexy." Greg poured more wine into her glass. "It makes me horny."
"A bomber jacket on the right person would make you horny."
He smiled and winked. "So you saw Todd last weekend?"
"Umm. It was brief, but better than nothing"
"Miss him, huh?"
"A bunch. You know, I even miss the sound of his shower running a full thirty minutes every morning."
"God, I remember those long showers when I was his age. I could get my rocks off twice in half an hour and be ready to take on the whole fucking world." Greg laughed when he saw her shocked expression. "I -love to watch your face when I get earthy with you."
"You do, do you?" She lifted an eyebrow. "I don't know what you mean. I was about to say that that explains why Todd preferred my shower to his. Mine has two pulsating heads."
"Enough. You're driving me crazy with that dirty talk."
The busboy refilled their water glasses.
"Okay," Greg said, "out, with it. Something happened while I was in Denver, and I would be very interested to know what it was."
“What makes you think that?"
"You came by to feed the fish, right?" Alex nodded. "And did you hang around to burp them? There were dishes in the dishwasher. Quilt and pillow on the couch. Book on the table—a rather boring book it was. I have the most revered collection of erotica in the state and you choose — Well, no matter, you were snuggling down for the night. Why? I know it wasn't to surprise me, because you didn't expect me until this afternoon. So why?"
"You should have been a detective," Alex said. Then she recounted the events of the past week, filling him in on the phone calls and the last break-in.
He took her hand and squeezed it. "Honey, I'll stay the night at your place and move some things over tomorrow."
"I appreciate your concern, really I do, but the answer is no.”
"Then be reasonable, babe, and come to my place. He couldn't possibly know where you are?”
"I'm not so sure about that."
Greg slid over, putting his arm around her shoulder. "Now I offered you two solutions, so which is it going to be—your place or mine?"
"Greg," she said, reaching up to stroke his jaw lightly, "those are not solutions — only postponements. I can't go the rest of my life wondering if he's lurking somewhere out there, waiting for me. Do you understand what I'm saying? Even if he doesn't mean to hurt me — if he just gets some perverse gratification from threatening me -- I'd never know for sure. There's only one way . . . and that's to find out who he is and to stop him."
Greg took her fist and unclenched each finger slowly, then putting her hand to his lips, he kissed the scraped palm. "Okay, sugar. Your feisty spirit is one of the reasons I adore you. Not only are you bright and witty, you're one of the best-looking women around, and," he added, staring across the room, "it appears I'm not the only guy to think so."
Alex had to turn her head slightly to the right to see where Greg was looking. At that moment the waiter reappeared and stood in front of Greg, but Alex was able to look past him to the table halfway across the room. She looked into those intense blue eyes.
Justin was not alone. The woman with him was in profile to Alex. She was young. Stunning. Her pale blond hair, pulled up loosely into a chignon off-set to one side of her head, shimmered like champagne in the candlelight. Alex suddenly felt old and frumpy.
Justin was in a black mood. His mood got blacker when he glanced across the room to see Alex sitting in a booth with a good-looking, silver-haired man. For someone with a whole lot of problems, Justin told himself, the lady looked relaxed and composed. He had watched as she lightly stroked the man's face. The man had lifted her hand and kissed the palm.
He recognized her date as Gregory Ott, the defense attorney. The man was obviously in love with Alex. It showed in the way he looked at her, touched her. Justin wondered if Alex was in love with him. They had spent the night together. She had run from his arms into Ott's, and that was enough to make Justin's insides twist with a sick wretchedness.
"Jus, is something wrong?" Sherry Lowden asked. Sherry was the rich, spoiled daughter of one of Nevada's more affluent casino owners. Between her extensive stints to Europe and the Far East, she rested up in Reno. She always called Justin when she was in town. "I know how you detest those black-tie affairs, Jus, but my father does expect me to at least make an appearance when I'm in town. And I can't think of anyone who looks sexier in a tux than you, darling. Now that it's over, it wasn't so bad, was it?"
Justin pulled his gaze away from Alex to stare absently at Sherry's sculptured face. It's too perfect, he thought. It lacked character, definition. Her voice was perfect. The low, singsong quality threatened to put him to sleep if she said more than a dozen words. Her body was perfect. And boring.
"You look as if you just spotted public enemy number one," Sherry said. "You didn't hear a word I said. I feel terribly neglected.”
"You're never neglected. Every man in the room has a surreptitious eye on you."
"I'm not with every man in the room. I'm with you. And I want your eyes only." As she said those words, Justin watched her gaze move slowly from table to table.
He looked back at the booth. At that moment Alex turned her head and stared into his eyes. Justin watched her expression change from mild curiosity to surprise to something unreadable.
He slowly lifted his fluted glass, nodded his head slightly, raised the glass higher in a mock toast, brought the glass to his lips, then turned his attention back to Sherry.
Alex had no time to react. No time to smile, frown, or even return Justin's ambiguous toast. The sight of him, sitting not more than twenty feet away, with someone else, so unnerved her that she immediately lost her appetite. Putting her fork down gently, she stared in disgust at the food on her plate.
"Sweety?" Greg touched her arm. He was peering at her strangely, the linen-covered bread basket poised over her plate.
"What? Oh, no thanks., I don't care for anything else."
"Well, eat up," he said, taking another piece of bread. "How's the duck?"
"It's very good."
She lifted her fork and poked at the bird, picking at the glazed skin and bits of wild rice. How long had he been there? She stole a glance at his table. The waiter, after serving their entree, was pouring the last of a bottle of champagne into their glasses. They had been there long enough to get their food and drink a--bottle of champagne. Had Justin been watching them the whole time? Don't flatter yourself, Alex thought. With a girl as lovely as the one who was possessively resting a hand on his arm, it was doubtful he'd been overly preoccupied with what was going on at another table. He looked striking in the black dinner jacket. His clear blue eyes seemed to glitter in the candlelight. He had been speaking to the blonde. They both laughed. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips.
Placing her fork across her plate, Alex tried to think of something other than Justin and his beautiful date and the kiss that, though brief, had made her go weak inside.
"How did your business trip go?" she asked Greg.
"Let's get married," he said.
She turned to look at him.
"I mean it. Let's get married.”
"Greg, this may sound trite and somewhat old-fashioned, but love, not sex, should play a major role in marriage.”
"Believe me, sweetheart, love is a major concern here. There's nothing I'd love more than to have sex with you. If I have to marry you to get you into bed, it's the least I can do.”
Alex laughed. "Greg, you're impossible."
When Justin looked back at the booth a few minutes later, Alex and Ott were laughing. He attacked his antelope steak like a ravenous lion, only he wasn't hungry anymore.
It was impossible to keep her gaze from going to the table across the room. Alex watched Justin meticulously brush a stray hair from the woman's cheek. His hand seemed to move in slow motion. Exact. Precise. His fingers a sensuous, instrumental part of
his body. Her stomach did a slow roll.
"You didn't answer my question, Alex . . . about marrying me," Greg said his expression and voice no longer teasing.
Alex stuttered, trying desperately to find something to say. "Greg . . . I .. . I . . ."
He smiled, squeezed her hand. "Stay my friend then. I know as well as you do that it's better that way."
She nodded, smiled. Her eyes began to mist.
"Hey, hey," he said, taking her face in his hands. 'What's this? Can it be that the vulgar Greg turned sentimental is too much for you?" He kissed her mouth lightly.
"You're not vulgar, only ribald. Otherwise I wouldn't put up with you."
"And you bring out the satyr in me. Shall we have dessert? An after-dinner cordial? An orgy?"
She smiled weakly. "Can we go, Greg? I'm really tired."
"Sure." He signaled for the waiter.
After paying the check, Greg rose and waited for Alex to slide from the booth.
Now comes the really hard part, she thought. To reach the door, they would have to walk by Justin's table. The room appeared to have doubled in size; the door now seemed a million miles away.
She stood, felt Greg's arm move around her waist protectively. As they walked to the restaurant foyer, she looked straight ahead.
Within several feet of his table, Alex's eyes involuntarily shifted to meet Justin's. An electrical jolt, sharp and intense, seemed to cross those few feet and surge into and through the very core of her being.
"When we leave here,” Sherry was saying, "we'll go back to my place. The Jacuzzi is steamy hot, and the champagne is icy cold."
"Sorry, I can't tonight, Sherry, I've got work to do."
"Ohhh." Her perfect face pouted. "It's my first night back, and I'm very horny. I picked up a new trick in the Orient. It'll drive you mad."
Justin had watched Alex rise from the booth and then cross the room. She was wearing a silky dress that seductively played in and out between her legs as she walked toward him. He'd never seen her in a dress. Jeans, slacks, shorts, a kimono, yes, but no skirt or dress. Then he realized that he had seen, in bits and pieces, at one time or another, most of her body. And what he had seen had only served to whet his appetite for more. He wanted to see every part of her. All at one time. He wanted to touch every part of her. He felt a sexual stirring that he knew was not attributed to Sherry's hand caressing his upper thigh, but to his vivid mosaic images of Alex's body.
With her gaze straight ahead, she closed the distance. Then her cool green-gray eyes were staring into his and he felt something like a molten rush of energy erupt inside him.
In the restaurant foyer, as Greg helped Alex with her coat, she stole one last glance at that damned table. From where she stood, Alex could see that the blonde had her hand on Justin's thigh. Her foot, now shoeless, was caressing his ankle. Alex felt heat rising throughout her body. It was both agonizing and wonderful.
On the drive home Greg chatted casually as Alex in her mind's eye saw Justin and his date sitting at their table. The woman was young, poised, and beautiful. Yet, something told her that the volatile emotion she'd felt when their eyes had met had been felt by him as well.
"I know where I've seen that guy before. The one in Le Moulin," Greg said. "Detective Holmes."
Alex felt her body flush warmly at the sound of his name.
"He stopped by my office a couple of days ago. He seemed more interested in you than in the crime."
They rode in silence the rest of the way to Alex's house.
She said good night to Greg at her door, then locked up, switched out the lights, and went into her bedroom.
After dropping a still-pouting Sherry at her door, Justin drove across town. He pulled his red Corvette under the trees at the edge of the bluff, looked down at Alex's house. The house was dark except for a soft glow from her bedroom window. A shadow moved about in the room. Although her car was the only one in the driveway, he wondered if Ott was with her?
He sat there thinking about her. About the feel of her skin. The smell of her. The way her lips and tongue had burned into his. He wanted to touch her. Hold her. Feel her naked body against his. Feel her moist warmth closing around him. To hell with mixing business and pleasure. He wanted her. God, how he wanted her.
The flat of his hand pushed against his erection, making him sigh.
"This is crazy," he whispered hoarsely. He started the car, pulled out, and drove down the hill.
Alex stood before the full-length mirror in her stockinged feet. The room was dim, with only the glow of a small bedside lamp. Staring into the mirror, she removed first her earrings, then the clips from her hair. As she shook her head gently, her hair came down around her shoulders, full and feral. She lifted a red chiffon scarf from the dresser top and draped it over the lamp shade. The light in the room became warm and rosy.
She undressed slowly, looking at herself, imagining it was Justin watching her uncover her body bit by bit. The dress slid down over her hips to the floor. She lowered her bra's straps and took in a deep breath. Over the top of the demi bra her breasts swelled. Her finger traced along the lace of the cup before she unhooked the bra and let it fall. Her open palms stroked the side of her breasts, fingertips touched the nipples. In the mirror she watched her nipples slowly grow erect. Her hands moved seductively down her body to her panties. And her hands became his hands—Justin's hands. Chewing on her lower lip, sucking on it, she closed her eyes and imagined him pulling the flesh-colored satin bikinis over her buttocks and down her legs. She stepped out of them. She pressed her fingertips lightly to her pubis and moaned as a wave of pleasure spread through her. Her other hand moved to her breast. She whispered his name. When footsteps lightly sounded on the front steps, she knew.
Reaching into her closet, she pulled out a white kimono and put it on over her nakedness. She moved lithely down the hallway, her entire being so warm she failed to notice the cold tiles under her bare feet. As she reached the door, she heard a light tapping. She unlocked the door, pulled it open, and stared into bright brooding eyes.
Justin crossed the threshold. His eyes took in every part of her as she stood there silently. Her lips were moist and swollen. He saw a pulse throbbing at her throat. The long kimono was unbelted, open, the impression of her nipples clearly visible beneath the shiny material. Without taking his eyes from hers, he closed the door and turned the dead-bolt. In one fluid motion he stepped up to her, slipped his hands inside the kimono at the waist, circling her back, and pulled her to him. The kimono slid off her shoulders and dropped to the floor. There was something tremendously exciting about standing in the foyer, his cool, formal black attire contrasting with her warm, creamy nakedness. Her skin was hot and as silky as the lapels of his jacket. He crushed her to him, his lips sought hers in a feverish kiss.
Without breaking the kiss, Justin lifted her and carried her to the bedroom. When he reached the carpeted platform on which the bed sat, he lowered her to her feet. They now stood eye to eye. He slipped off the jacket. With one hand he pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt while the other caressed first one of her breasts and then the other.
She watched as his gaze, cool, unabashed, took in her breasts, her waist and hips, the dark pubic hair, and finally the length of her legs before looking back into her eyes.
He removed his shirt, then pulled her to him again, pressing his furry chest to her breasts.
Alex reached for the hook at his waistband. She pulled down the zipper and helped him remove his pants. When his clothing lay at their feet, he drew her back into his arms, rubbed against her and kissed her with unbelievable passion. Alex sighed deeply. Her body felt like one overly sensitive conduit of sexual energy.
He stepped up, lifted her, and laid her on the bed. While looking into her eyes, he entered her slowly. She pulled in her breath, savoring the feel of him gliding deep inside her.
For the briefest moment, Alex stiffened with apprehension. How could I be so damned weak? s
he asked herself. Then her increasing passion wiped all thought away. As Justin moved within her, only one thing mattered, and that was to make it last as long as she could.
She felt her climax approaching—too fast, too soon. She wanted to prolong the inevitable. Her body let her down. She plummeted over the edge as wave after wave of pleasure, so sudden, so intense, washed over her. Justin's mouth covered hers fiercely, stifling her cries. He stopped deep inside her. His lips eased their pressure and drew away. Slowly Alex opened her eyes and stared into his. He lowered his head and kissed her again, lightly, sweetly. His hands began to roam over her breasts as he slowly pulled out. Shifting her position, she took hold of him. He was still hard, fully erect. "No,”' he said, taking her hand away. "Lie back, close your eyes."
"But —"
"Sssh."
This time he made love to her with an unhurried and accomplished precision. He carried her along to heights of desire she'd never dreamed were possible. When her hands automatically reached for him, he gently pushed them away, leaving her mind and body free to experience all sexual sensations as they surfaced with wanton and uninhibited abandonment. She moaned aloud as his tongue and fingers maddeningly stroked her body. He seemed to know just where to touch, what brought the most pleasure, and when and how. His hands and mouth roved over skin so responsive it pulsated. Oh God, she thought, lost to all rationality, don't stop . . . don't ever stop. Her back arched and became rigid as her empty hands sought something to cling to. Entwining her fingers in her tangled hair, she pulled and twisted.
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