Half Moon Bay

by Meryl Sawyer

  Thunk!

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “Conch chowder all over the kitchen floor.” Both hands on his hips, Matt blew out his breath. It ruffled the hank of hair across his forehead. “I’m going to skin Bingo alive.”

  He left the room in a huff. No doubt it would take him a while to clean up the mess. Could she help it if she fell asleep?

  Before she could close her eyes, he was back, a wicked smile on his face. She’d managed to pull the sheet over her body. Just her leg stuck out, propped up by the pillows.

  “I’m leaving the cleanup to eight cats and one little dog. Most of the chowder was gone before I hit the kitchen. I’ll mop the floor later. Do you want me to make you something else?”

  “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed. She was pretty sure he wasn’t thinking about food.

  “What is conch anyway?” she asked, a little frightened by the dark desire she detected in his eyes. “I know it’s pronounced conk but that’s all.”

  He ran one finger along her bare leg, a light, teasing touch, while his heavy-lidded eyes remained locked on hers. “It’s a huge sea snail. It crawls along the ocean floor like this.”

  His hand disappeared under the sheet just above her knee. Her heart fluttered to her throat but she grabbed his wrist. “Jensen, do you ever give up?”

  “Sure. When I get what I want.”

  His sensual smile sent a heated rush of longing through her body. He leaned forward, hands braced against the headboard on either side of her shoulders. As he lowered his head, she knew he was going to kiss her, but she was powerless to move.

  His lips brushed against hers as he spoke with a pronounced drawl. “You know, darlin’, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were afraid of me.”

  He couldn’t possibly suspect how close to the truth he was. She forced a sassy smile. “Right, Jensen. I’m terrified.”

  His hands still braced against the headboard, he leaned down and kissed the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat. The touch of his lips on her sensitive skin sent shivers of desire coursing through her veins. He continued to explore with soft, moist kisses, searing a path around her neck and finding an even more sensitive spot behind her ear.

  Her own passionate response to his kisses shocked her. If she didn’t do something fast, she might as well confess she wasn’t Shelly.

  “Jensen, have you forgotten I’m a psychopath?”

  Raising his head, he gazed into her eyes. “No, you’re not. You’re a little mixed up. That’s all. Having your whole family die so suddenly probably accounts for the way you behaved.”

  The heartrending tenderness in his smoldering blue eyes startled her. Oh, my God. She had unwittingly given him a way to excuse Shelly’s actions.

  He stretched out beside her with a slow, sexy smile. His touch was light, teasing, as he brushed her lower lip with the pad of his thumb.

  “Jensen, knock it off. I’m dangerous … honest.”

  “So am I.”

  His words were smothered against her lips as he kissed her, more hungrily this time. Parting her lips, she allowed herself to meet his kiss. She knew better, truly she did, but she couldn’t help herself.

  The forceful domination of his lips and the invasion of his thrusting tongue sent a shock wave of savage desire to every pore. A delicious shudder raked her when the hard length of his body pressed against hers. She had a fully aroused male on her hands.

  She tried to whimper a protest, but he was kissing her so deeply that it was impossible. His tongue stroked hers in a parody of another more intimate sexual act. Tremors of passion cascaded through her, and she clamped her legs together against a shameless rush of heat between her thighs.

  Before she realized what she was doing, her arms were around him, her fingers clutching his powerful shoulders. Somehow his hands had gotten under the T-shirt and were on her bare breasts. Slightly rough hands against smooth skin enflamed her even more.

  He molded one breast with his hand, capturing its nipple and brushing it with his thumb. A low moan rumbled from his throat, and she experienced a surge of feminine power. While arousing her, he was also arousing himself.

  He broke the kiss, but didn’t stop caressing her breast. “You’re dangerous all right. It’s dangerous how much I want you.”

  She wanted to tell him that she felt the same, but she didn’t dare.

  “Don’t deny you want me.” His voice had a hard, ragged quality.

  His hand left her breast and nudged her thighs apart. She tried to grab his arm. Too late. His hand was inside her panties. Touching her.

  The instant his fingertip brushed her, pleasure thick and dark swept her into an erotic world where nothing existed except the sweet sensation of rising passion. It was torture, exquisite torture. She couldn’t even muster a smart remark to wipe the conqueror’s smile off Matt’s face.

  Panting slightly, she sank her nails into his shoulders as she arched her back and shamelessly pressed herself against his palm. He eased one strong finger inside her as he continued to stroke the taut bud.

  A second later she heard herself cry out. Her entire body shuddered with pleasure in one devastating surge of ecstasy that left her limp and trembling. She closed her eyes.

  After a few minutes her breathing became more normal, and she opened her eyes. Matt was stretched out beside her, watching her with a heavy-lidded gaze.

  “Am I good, or what?” He flashed her a wicked smile. “Just wait for the main event.”

  He took her hand and clamped it around his penis. Through the thin material of his shorts and underwear she felt the hot, iron heat of his sex. Her foolish body wanted him … inside her.

  But how could she possibly explain being a virgin?

  “Do you have any life jackets in your nightstand?” he asked.

  “Life jackets?”

  “Condoms.”

  She shook her head. How stupid could she be?

  With a groan, he sat up. “I’ll get some.”

  Suddenly, she had a brilliant idea. If they made love in the surf, he might not notice that she was a virgin. “Why don’t we go down to the beach,” she called as he headed toward the door. “Let’s make love on the beach, the way we did in Bermuda.”

  He stopped, his back to her, his hand on the doorknob. He stood there a moment, then slowly turned. “Forget it. This is a big mistake.”

  Before she could respond, he closed the door and turned out the lights. Overhead, the ceiling fan continued to purr in the darkness, stirring the musky, masculine smell he’d left on the sheets. What had gone wrong, she wondered.

  Chapter 20

  Dexxter finished cleaning out his desk, expecting Irene to burst through his office door any second. Some wise-ass reporter had gotten wind of the Foxx Enterprises sale and blared it across the morning paper’s business section. Robbed of the element of surprise, the noon press conference he’d so carefully orchestrated would be anticlimactic.

  “What a pissoff!” He’d counted on watching the stunned look on Irene’s face when he made the announcement.

  Get over it, he told himself. He was stinking rich now, thanks to a bunch of Asians who were too stupid to realize they’d purchased nothing more than a software shell game. He needed to start over. Maybe this time he’d go into something legit like, like … well, he’d think of something. He always did.

  He heard his office door open and the click-click of high heels on the marble floor. Without looking up, he knew it was Irene.

  “Look what a courier just brought from Key West.”

  Irene breezed up to his desk, all smiles. Obviously, Irene didn’t ferret through the business section the way he did. He was going to blow her away after all.

  “Zane managed to get photographs of that woman.” Irene laid a stack of color photographs on his desk.

  The top one was a picture of a blonde standing at the edge of the surf, daintily testing the water with
her toe. Triangles of orange fabric, each no bigger than an eyepatch, barely concealed centerfold breasts. Showgirl legs dovetailed into slim hips and a narrow waist.

  Her head was bent slightly, so it was impossible to decide if this woman was Amy Conroy. He doubted it. The conservative, shapeless clothing Amy had worn couldn’t hide her killer tits. He prided himself on his powers of observation where women were concerned. He would have known if her waist had been so narrow, her legs so long and nicely shaped.

  The next picture was a close-up taken just as the woman’s head had emerged from the water. The blue eyes might have been Amy’s, but the nose and shape of her face was all wrong.

  “You’re wasting my time.”

  “Keep looking.”

  By the time he was halfway through the photos, he was willing to show this babe the full monty—anytime. Too bad she was miles away, down in some bumfuck key.

  “Remember, darling, she was in a terrible car crash, which required extensive cosmetic surgery.”

  Darling? Since when had she started talking to him like that? He couldn’t wait for the press conference. He’d have the last laugh.

  “Zane looked into the crash. A truck loaded with diesel fuel struck a car. Three victims were thrown from the vehicles. Two died, burned beyond recognition. A dead woman remains unidentified. According to the police report, she had been a passenger in the truck, but Zane suspects the two women were in the car together.”

  “Are you saying Amy assumed that woman’s identity? I don’t believe it. People have friends, relatives. Someone would know her well enough to realize Amy was an impostor.”

  He kept leafing through the photos, even though he’d already studied each one and was convinced this knockout was not Amy. He half listened to Irene giving him a rundown on the Ralston woman’s family.

  “The only person who knew her well enough to ID her was Matthew Jensen. He’d taken her out one time, then she began to stalk him.”

  “She’s a stalker? A mental basket-case? Unfuckingbelievable.”

  She could stalk him anytime, he thought, studying the picture of her emerging from the surf, droplets of water beading her breathtaking body. Something about her was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on just what it was. He’d screwed dozens of bombshell blondes, courtesy of Technical Assistants. Maybe she reminded him of one of the techs.

  Suddenly, it clicked.

  “Fucking A,” he cried. “It is Amy.” The way she tilted her head just slightly to one side clicked. Amy had often done that—to keep the gross side of her face from being seen.

  He stared hard at the photo. This was the woman Amy Conroy had been meant to be. Heat shot through him with a jolting upward surge in his groin as he thought about the plans he had for her.

  “Of course it is … darling. She has the dog, doesn’t she? How else would that ugly little mutt get from Sacramento to Key West?”

  Irene had called him darling again, but he ignored it. Whatever the bitch was up to wouldn’t work. He was through with her, but his plans for Amy were just beginning.

  “Take a look at these.” Irene handed him a few grainy snapshots taken at a distance with a telephoto lens.

  The photos were of Amy reclining on a chaise, letting some man kiss her. Another shot showed the man kissing her breasts. It didn’t take a fucking rocket scientist to know what these two were going to do next.

  A wave of red, like a swift-rising tide, swept away every rational thought. Amy Conroy belonged to him, not to some jerkoff who liked to strut around half naked so women could admire his pecs.

  If Dexx had given Amy the attention she had craved, when she’d been working for him, he could be enjoying her himself. Now he was going to have to kill her.

  Twice as many reporters than Dexxter had expected had gathered for the press conference. No doubt he could thank the article in the paper for the increased attendance. Off to one side stood the company’s executives. Like Irene, none of them had a clue what was happening. They were chattering excitedly among themselves, probably anticipating the announcement of a new software program.

  Irene looked over at him and gave him a discreet thumbs-up. It was all he could do not to hoot with laughter. Just wait, bitch.

  After Irene had left his office, Dexxter had sat in his chair, facing Seattle’s skyline. But in his mind’s eye he kept seeing the new Amy, flat on her back, legs spread. The man in the picture was humping her, jack-hammering into her gorgeous body so savagely that Dexxter could actually feel each thrust in his own groin.

  The vision had been so powerful, so all-consuming that Dexxter had unzipped his zipper and shoved his hand into his pants. “Just wait, Amy. Just wait.”

  Now, looking across the podium at the group assembled to hear his announcement, Dexxter experienced another, very different arousal. This one wasn’t sexual, but it was just as powerful. The future of his employees hung in the balance.

  The dumb shits didn’t know it. He was on the verge of changing their lives forever. The Asians were moving the Foxx operation to Singapore. In exactly two minutes they would be unemployed.

  Irene would be wiped out of his life.

  He tapped on the microphone to get their attention, then delivered the announcement in a casual, offhand tone that didn’t reveal the hours he’d spent in front of the mirror carefully rehearsing every word. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Irene, gauging her reaction.

  At first her eyes widened, then she smiled with forced enthusiasm. Around her the other executives attempted to smile, but it was clear they were astonished. Irene kept staring at him, grinning, as he completed the announcement.

  He fielded reporters’ questions, inwardly pissed that Irene hadn’t been more upset. What did he expect? She had too much pride to fall apart in front of the others. Everyone in the company knew she had advanced him the start-up money for the business.

  “Who needs Seattle?” he said out loud when he returned to his office. “Key West is sunshine, sugar-white sand, and …” His cock tightened as he thought about Amy. “Sweet, sweet Amy.”

  “Well, darling. You took everyone by surprise, didn’t you?”

  While he’d been fantasizing, Irene had come up behind him. Her hands clutched his shoulders and her silicone boobs rammed against his back. He expelled a long breath, silently asking himself what Irene was up to now.

  “It’s over, Irene. Foxx Enterprises is no more.”

  Irene spun him around to face her before he realized what she was doing. The bitch must be working out with weights. Her dark eyes glittered with almost feral intensity. If he didn’t know how much she loved him, he would be afraid of her.

  “Do you know where we went wrong with Foxx Enterprises?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “We had a building, employees. We were too visible. But if we’d set up in Asia to manufacture phony chips and pirated software, the government would have played hell finding us.”

  He nodded slowly, trying to appear thoughtful. Irene was not the brightest bulb in the chandelier. Obviously, she still thought of herself as his partner. He opened his mouth to tell her that she was history.

  Then he stopped cold when he noticed her cunning smile.

  Irene knew all his dirty secrets. She’d loved him for so long, he doubted she would turn on him, particularly since she would only implicate herself. But now he wasn’t so sure.

  Why take chances?

  “That’s what we need, darling. A money machine without the hassles that come with buildings and ungrateful employees like Amy Conroy.”

  He smiled, Amy’s name giving him a brilliant idea. Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? It would give him as much pleasure to kill Irene as it would Amy—maybe more.

  Don’t tip your hand now, cautioned an inner voice. String Irene along, wait for the right time, then kill her. Now that he thought about it, he’d never be rid of Irene unless she was dead.

  She slid her fingers under the lapels of his suit. “So, Dexx, do you
want to hear my plan? It’ll make the millions Foxx Enterprises produced look like chicken feed.”

  Any second she was going to kiss him, he thought, his stomach churning in disgust. But only a fool would refuse to hear Irene’s idea. She wasn’t much to look at, and she wasn’t intelligent like Amy, yet Irene was incredibly devious and clever.

  He slid his arms around her waist to encourage her. “This sounds interesting. Tell me more.”

  “What’s the fastest-growing, highest-profit business in America? Gambling.”

  “Gambling?” He would have pushed her away, but her arms were now locked around his neck. “Casinos are a whole lot more visible than Foxx Enterprises.”

  “I’m talking about online gambling. It’s simple really. Set up a Web site, then we’re in business.”

  “It can’t be that easy.”

  They were so close now that their breath mingled as they spoke. The feral glint had vanished from her eyes. Now her pupils were enlarged. He knew exactly what she had on her mind.

  “I know just how to set up an online gambling operation. All we really need besides a Web site is an offshore bank to handle the money. That way government regulators can’t touch us.”

  “They can’t?”

  He just managed to get out the words, when she angled her mouth across his and kissed him.

  He pulled back, then asked, “You can operate the Web site from anywhere, right?”

  “Sure. You can bask in the sun on a sandy beach in Key West while your Web site rakes in the dough.”

  What was she, a mind reader? “Key West?”

  “I already have a place down there leased for six months.”

  Jesus H. Christ. She was light years ahead of him. In a way, though, it was better. He didn’t have to do any work.

  “I think we should both go down there, make certain that woman is Amy, then get rid of her. There’s so much water in the Keys. A boating accident or a drowning. We’ll think of something.”

  It wasn’t exactly the plan he had for Amy, but an accident would be perfect for Irene. Too many murders in a small place like Key West would only attract attention. And Amy’s murder was going to be … well, he hadn’t made up his mind exactly how he wanted to kill her yet. But he knew exactly what he was going to do before he snuffed her.