by Cara Summers
“Down,” he said, and they moved back to settle themselves on either side of a lounge chair.
He returned his gaze to Rory. The depth was shallow enough that he could stand, but he noted that she secured herself by placing a hand on the ledge that ran around the side of the pool. Her legs tangled with his before she pulled hers back.
“I’m still angry with you,” she said.
“But not for pushing you into the pool.”
Her brows shot up. “You didn’t. The dogs did.” She leveled her gaze on him. “I try to be a fair person. But you weren’t fair with me.”
“Strong words,” he murmured.
“If the shoe fits…”
He raised a hand, palm out. “Okay. You’re right. I did know from the beginning that Jared Slade was not going to give you that interview.”
“So, you negotiated a kiss on a lie.”
“Okay. But maybe you dazzled me so much that I shouldn’t be held responsible for that.”
She snorted. “Yeah. Right. I go through life dazzling men. Wherever I go, they fall at my feet.”
He studied her for a moment. Was it possible that she didn’t know how attractive she was? That might explain the innocence he kept sensing in her. Hunter ran a finger down her cheek to her throat and felt her pulse scramble. “Before I become dazzled again, I have a compromise I want to offer you.” He traced his finger along her collarbone, and then he saw it—the thin red strap. His mouth went dry, and the water surrounding them in the pool suddenly seemed warmer.
“Compromise?” she asked.
He dragged his thoughts back from the red bra and the red… “Yes.” He swallowed hard as he forced himself to meet her eyes. Every time he got this close to her, she sent every rational thought he had flying away.
Yet she didn’t think that she had any power over men.
He’d come out here with a plan, a strategy all worked out. And he simply didn’t care about it anymore. Hunter held her gaze. “Are you wearing the thong?”
Her eyes darkened from amber to dark, rich cognac in a heartbeat. “Yes.”
“Show me,” he said as he backed a few steps away. Then he watched as she dropped her hand from the edge of the pool and tugged the snap of her jeans open. Impeded by the wetness of the fabric and the water, she had to tug and wiggle, then tug and wiggle some more as she slid the jeans down those slender, strong legs and kicked them off. It seemed to take forever, and the water surrounding them grew steadily hotter and hotter until the sun beating down on his shoulders felt cool in comparison.
Still, he didn’t rush as he moved his gaze slowly up her legs to where the little triangle of red lace beckoned to him. His hand felt heavy as he moved it to her and traced the lace edge with one finger. She was wearing a silver bar in her navel, and when he touched it, desire curled within him, tangling with an ache that was unexpected and raw.
More than anything, he wanted to push that sheer red fabric aside and watch what happened to her eyes when he slid into her heat. He let his gaze move higher up that slim waist to linger on her breasts. The nipples were hard and he could see them through the wet fabric. He was going to touch them, too.
His original plan had been to wait—to give her part of the interview, wine and dine her…then succumb to his need for her. But he’d never been pulled so strongly by a woman before. And he’d waited long enough.
Meeting her eyes, he said, “I want to kiss you again. And I want to make love to you. If you have a problem with that, now would be a good time to say so.”
She met his gaze steadily, keeping her head above water by merely kicking her feet. It was happening again—just as it had in the dressing room. He wanted her. She could read the desire in his eyes, feel it in the heat of his body.
She’d come here for this as much as for the interview, and there wasn’t a chance for her to fall back into the old indecisive Rory when he looked at her the way he was right now. But there was one thing she had to clear up first.
“I’m not going to kiss you again for an interview or a compromise. Let’s just get that straight. This time I’m going to kiss you because I want to.”
Hunter nodded. “Agreed. Now, take off your shirt.”
The ache inside of her only twisted tighter as she did what he asked, bobbing gently in the water as she struggled to get the damp T-shirt over her head. Then she was naked except for the red lace.
“We shouldn’t do this here.” His voice was hoarse as he closed the small distance between them.
“No. I should be asking you about the compromise. But I can’t seem to keep my mind on task when I’m with you.” She looped her arms around his neck and brushed her legs up against his.
With a groan, Hunter trapped one of her legs between his. “We’ll get to the compromise. Later.” He wasn’t sure whether it was her words or the way she looked in the water—part sex goddess, part mermaid, but he felt the same urgency that he’d felt in the lingerie shop. All that mattered was having her. Now.
“Hurry.”
Hearing her say that one breathless word had an arrow of heat shooting through him. His head was spinning. The restless, wanton movements of her body against his had him swaying. To steady himself, to steady both of them, he pushed forward until her back was against the side of the pool.
“Kiss me.”
He wasn’t sure who’d spoken the words or if he’d just thought them, but he took her mouth with his.
OH, YES, RORY THOUGHT as his flavor exploded on her tongue and poured into her. Yes, yes, yes, yes. Her mind took up the chant as his tongue moved in a slow, steady rhythm over hers, and his hand stroked down her body possessively. His flavor was just as she remembered—dark and rich like some exotic kind of chocolate. Forbidden and addictive.
Her breath caught in her throat and her body arched toward his as his fingers began to toy with the waistband of her thong. Her skin trembled and arrows of heat shot through her as they moved along her waist to her back. But he didn’t linger. Instead, he moved his hands, those long fingers, those wide palms, to caress her buttocks. She felt each individual finger burn into her skin like a brand before the pressure increased and they drew her cheeks apart.
Pleasure and anticipation streaked through her, and heat built in her center. Then he began to trace the thong along her bottom, spreading her cheeks even farther to give his fingers more access until he was pressing them just where she wanted.
“Harder,” she whimpered as she arched and wiggled herself against them. “Please.”
He lifted her then and she wrapped her legs around him, pressing herself against the hard length of him.
She moaned when he slowly retraced the path his fingers had just taken along the lace strap of the thong between her cheeks.
Tightening her legs around him, she said, “I want you inside of me, now.”
He had no choice. After shoving his sweats down, Hunter found her opening and pressed himself against it. Then he pushed himself into her and felt her heat grip him tightly. After withdrawing a little, he drove in even farther.
“Yes,” she whimpered against his ear.
He withdrew and thrust in even deeper. Just this one more time. Hadn’t he told himself that if he could have her this way again, that would be enough? But as her heat burned him, and her muscles fastened around him like a clamp, he wasn’t sure that his hunger for her would ever be sated.
He withdrew and thrust in again, this time to the hilt.
“More.”
Every muscle in his body sang with the need to obey her command, but he was aware that the lawn mower that he’d heard earlier had moved closer. Above the hedge that bordered the pool, he could see the straw hat of the driver. This time when he withdrew, she clamped her legs around him tightly.
“Don’t you dare stop.”
He leaned closer and whispered, “Shh. We’re not alone.” Though he was confident that the man on the mower wouldn’t be able to hear them, he couldn’t be sure that the m
an wouldn’t glance over the hedge and see them.
“I can’t wait.”
Even though he was gripping her hips firmly, she managed to thrust herself against him. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait, either. Very slowly, he withdrew and then pushed into her again. When she stiffened and murmured his name, he heard something inside of him snap just as clearly as he heard the sound of the lawn mower fade.
He slapped his hands against the tiles and then thrust into her again—faster, harder, again and again. Each time he pushed into her, she seemed to grow hotter, and her grip on him—inside and out—tightened.
No, this was not going to be enough. He would need this again and again. Even as the realization poured through him, he felt the water around him churning, heard little waves slapping against the sides of the pool. She was moving with him, thrust for thrust. Just as the heat became searing, unbearable, he felt her stiffen. Then he surrendered to her climax and to his.
RORY WAS AWARE that on some level, her body had gone as limp as her mind. If Hunter’s body hadn’t been pressing hers so firmly against the wall of the pool, she would have slid right down to the bottom and drowned. She could still feel him embedded inside of her, and though she wouldn’t have thought it possible, the knowledge, the pressure had something inside of her warming again. She drew in a breath, and when her lungs burned, she wondered just how long her body had been without oxygen.
“Are you okay?”
She managed a weak nod. “But I can’t move yet.”
She felt his lips curve against her shoulder. “I’m having a bit of a problem with that myself.”
When she felt him pull out of her, she nearly cried out in protest. She might have tightened her legs to keep him there, but they still felt like soft, runny butter. A minute later, she found herself sitting beside him on the steps leading out of the pool.
“Wow,” she said, snuggling her head against his shoulder because she simply didn’t have the strength to hold it upright.
“Ditto.”
“Next time, I vote we do this on dry land.”
“I can vote for that, too,” he said. “And to hurry that process along, why don’t I get you a towel?”
For a moment after he pulled away, Rory felt cold and a bit bereft. The ringing of a phone caught him halfway to the pool house, and he strode quickly back to the table near the lounge chairs to pick up the extension.
“Yeah?”
She saw the frown come to his face a second before she swept her gaze down the length of him. The wet sweats were clinging to his body, revealing every hard angle and plane. And he was still wearing his running shoes. A short distance away, her sneakers lay on the bottom of the pool, peeking out from beneath her jeans. He was still fully clothed and she was wearing only a red bra and thong.
And she’d just been ravished at the side of a pool. Well, not ravished really. Technically, to be truly ravished, she suspected that the ravishee had to put up at least a token resistance.
She hadn’t. The only thing she’d done was make it very clear that making love with him was not going to be some quid pro quo thing. What they’d just done had nothing to do with the interview. Leaning back against her hands, she extended her legs and examined her body. Was it the red thong that was giving her the confidence to do things she’d never done before?
Her gaze returned to Hunter. Or was it the man who’d made her feel so daring? Slowly a smile curved her lips as she thought of the way Sierra would answer that question. The only way to find out would be to do some further research.
“LOOKS LIKE YOU WERE right,” Tracker said on the other end of the line.
“About what?” Hunter asked.
“About Rory Gibbs. I stopped by her apartment on a hunch.”
“A hunch?” Hunter shifted his gaze to Rory.
“I’ve been known to have them. Perhaps it was your characterization of her as a pawn. But it occurred to me that if she was stumbling into information that you didn’t particularly want her to have, someone else might not want her to have it, either. Anyway, her place just happened to be on my route from the airport to the Wainwright offices.”
“And you knew the address because…?”
“Hey, I’m a top-notch security expert. We know these things—or can find out.”
As Tracker continued to talk, Hunter’s eyes narrowed. Rory shivered a little as she drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. She was cold, and he’d promised her a towel.
“Hunter, are you still there?”
He dragged his thoughts back. “What?”
“The door of her apartment had been forced, and the place had been trashed. I suppose it could be a random break-in.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Neither do I. That means that someone was probably watching her place. And they were looking for something.”
“What?”
“Answer that and you, too, can become a security specialist. You can pass along any theories you have when I get there in an hour or so.”
Hunter lowered his voice. “I think we should keep this under wraps for now. She might want to leave—and for the time being she’s safer here.”
“I can’t argue with the logic of that.”
Hunter kept his eyes on Rory as he hung up the phone. How much danger was she in?
7
“SO YOU DROVE OUT HERE last night and slept in your car?” Hunter sat at the head of the table in a dining room that was as large as her whole apartment.
“More chicken salad, Miss Rory?” McGee asked, offering her the bowl.
“Yes…I mean no, thanks.” She glanced down at her plate to find that it was empty. She’d had two helpings already in hopes that the nerves in her stomach would settle. “Well, maybe,” she said, sending McGee a smile. “It’s delicious.” She piled another spoonful onto her plate. “And the answer to your question is yes, too,” she added as she met Hunter’s eyes.
She tore off a piece of croissant and popped it into her mouth. Perhaps the nerves were due to the fact that Hunter had slipped back into Terminator mode from the moment he’d hung up the phone at the pool. Oh, he’d been perfectly polite. He’d found her some dry clothes in the pool house, and he’d even had McGee show her to a guest room where she could shower. But since they’d sat down to lunch, he’d been treating her like a perfect stranger.
Exactly the way he’d treated her after the phone call that he’d taken in the dressing room at Silken Fantasies.
“Did you have any reason to suspect that you were followed out here?” he asked.
“Followed?” The thought had her frowning. “Why would anyone follow me?”
“Mr. Wainwright’s security team would like to know if they should expect any more visitors to climb over the wall.”
“Ah.” She busied herself, scooping up another forkful of chicken salad as she thought about it. Could she have been followed? She hadn’t even gone home after she’d spoken to Natalie at the Blue Pepper. Instead, she’d had something to eat, talked with Rad and George and then decided on the spur of the moment to drive out to the estate that night.
It had been late when she’d crossed the bridge into Virginia. Glancing up, she met Hunter’s eyes. “I wasn’t followed. Once I got off the main highway, I didn’t notice any headlights behind me. And out here in the country, I think I would have.” She gestured with her fork. “I read a lot of Nancy Drew mystery stories when I was growing up.”
“Nancy Drew mysteries?” he asked.
“Yeah. Nancy Drew, girl detective. You probably read the Hardy Boys. But I liked Nancy. She had great girlfriends, drove a great car, had a steady, faithful boyfriend, and she had a great father.”
He was looking at her curiously. “You read stories as a child and so you’re sure you would have noticed headlights following you on a country road.”
She nodded. “You try reading thirty or so books where a girl detective is looking for clues and being chased by bad guys. You’ll noti
ce all kinds of odd things. Didn’t you ever read the Hardy Boys?”
He shook his head. “Can’t say that I did. Should I consider my education lacking?”
She tilted her head to one side. “Only if you wanted to grow up to be a supersleuth. You probably had other goals in mind.” After setting down her fork, she pushed her plate aside and crossed her arms on the table. “Why are you asking me all these questions? Does this have something to do with the bomb scare at Les Printemps?”
Hunter had known that the question would come sooner or later, and he thought he had a plausible strategy for handling it. “I mentioned at the pool that Mr. Slade is prepared to offer you something in lieu of an interview with him. Part of the compromise I’m prepared to offer you requires your assurance that there will be no mention of the bomb scare in any article you might write. Mr. Slade is disturbed enough that you’re here. However, he’s aware that you gave back the pictures you snapped in the lobby. So he’s willing to offer you something in place of an interview with him.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
Hunter wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it at the side of his plate. “If you’re finished, why don’t we take a walk while I explain?”
Without a word, she rose and followed him down the hall to the study and then through the French doors. He didn’t cross the lawn to the pool, but instead guided her down a path that wound its way past the tennis courts toward the stables.
They walked in silence for a few minutes while Hunter reviewed his plan. It should provide both of them with what they wanted, and that was the key to any successful negotiation. In his mind, he pictured the plus columns on each side. An interview with “Mark Hunter,” someone high up in Slade Enterprises, should be enough to get Rory Gibbs the staff job she wanted at Celebs magazine. And keeping her occupied on the estate while Tracker sprang a trap on whomever was behind the threats would ensure her safety.
Of course, there was the possibility that she would figure out that he was “Jared Slade.” But he’d decided to risk that.