His other eye opened and he rolled onto his side so they were facing each other. He reached out to untuck the curl and played with it, pulling it straight, then releasing the tension so it twisted back to its natural spiral. "Your hair is perfect."
Jilly's stomach developed a bad case of the jitters. "It's too wild."
"Mmm." His gaze transferred to her mouth and he moved closer.
Jilly scooched back, nervous. For the first time ever, she'd woken up with a man. The sun was shining. Rory had just complained about bedhead. This was way too intimate, even more intimate than his slow touch in the bathtub the night before.
He slid his hand beneath her hair to caress her neck. "What's the matter, honey?"
She fought off her shiver. He knew so well how to touch her, that was the matter. "It's just so—so light."
He smiled indulgently. "I'll fix that." In one smooth movement he jackknifed up. The covers slid farther down and Jilly's gaze stuttered at the sight of his naked hips. As he reached toward the softly draped bed hangings, she remembered their hardness cradled in her palms.
With a flick of his hand he loosened the tasseled cord nearest him, releasing the sheer overhanging fabric. Then he leaned across her to do the same on her side of the bed, cutting the sunlight in half and cocooning them in an almost tent-like atmosphere.
The sheik and his slave girl…
Jilly scooted farther away from him.
"Where are you going?" he asked softly. "Another few inches and you're going to fall off the bed." He shortened the distance between them.
Her body instinctively moved back.
He frowned. "Am I going to have to tie you up?"
Her breath caught. A white horse galloped across the sand. The desert prince was coming. Her breath caught again.
His eyes narrowed and his mouth twitched. "You are wild." Without taking his gaze from her face, he reached back to snag the tasseled drapery cord from the bedpost. "Is this what you want?"
Her eyes widened and she inched away again. "Of-of course not."
"I don't believe you." Before she could protest, he grasped her nearest wrist and hauled her close. The hand holding the cord found her other wrist, and he wrapped it with the cord and stretched it over her head.
"Rory!" She was shocked. Shocked at how excited just the very loose binding could make her.
He lifted her free arm and pressed her hands together, twisting the cord around both of them. Then he pressed the tasseled ends to her palms. "Hold it," he ordered, his voice quiet but firm. "Hold it just like that."
Jilly's fingers automatically closed over the cord, and then they clenched spasmodically as Rory began to draw the sheet slowly down her body. She started to bring her arms down, but Rory clapped one big hand over her two bound ones. "Trust me, Jilly," he said.
When he released her hands, she kept them over her head. They'd made a bargain, she thought dizzily. Yeah, that was why.
The sheet rasped over her nipples. They were stiff already, and she felt his gaze on them, and then his warm breath. When his mouth closed over one, she involuntarily tried to bring her hands to him, but Rory foiled her again. He firmly lifted her arms back over her head and held them there as he licked her breasts, then blew cool air over the aching tips.
Her legs shifted restlessly and he dropped his hand to caress her sheet-covered thigh as his mouth slid down to her navel. When he encountered the edge of the sheet, he grasped it with his teeth, and pulled, taking it past her hips, the tops of her thighs, her knees.
Goose bumps burst over Jilly's skin. Her hips twisted and when Rory dropped the sheet, he smiled. "Pretty," he said. Then he placed his hands inside her knees and pushed her legs apart.
Jilly closed her eyes. It was so much, the erotic trick of being "tied," Rory's so-knowing touch, his obvious desire as he looked at her body.
He positioned her and she didn't resist, letting him splay her legs wide and then lift her knees so her feet were flat against the mattress. She kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut, so aroused and so embarrassed by her arousal she didn't think she could look at him.
Her skin was hot and tingly and she knew he was looking at her, but she held herself still until she felt something wet and soft between her legs. Her stomach jumped and she immediately tried to close her thighs, but his wide shoulders were there, holding her open for … his mouth.
"Rory."
His touch was merciless. He ruled her, controlling her responses, licking softly, blowing cool air gently, then exploring her body avidly as if he couldn't hold himself back.
Her hips rose to his mouth and he held them in his big hands as he kept up the intimate, glorious play. She'd never known … she'd never thought…
And then she couldn't think, because all the warmth and all the tingles converged where his mouth tasted her body and she found herself flying forward, her body lifting off the bed. "Rory."
Without a hesitation, he kept kissing her, loving her, but his hand reached up and pushed her down onto the bed. Her hands twisted against their soft binding, passion twisted tighter in her belly, and under Rory's controlling hand and his commanding tongue she flew forward again, but only her passion and her spirit this time, flying somewhere where only he knew to find her.
He caught her as she fell, and she grasped him by the shoulders to pull him up to her.
"No," he said, spreading her thighs wider. He slowly drove two long fingers into her and bent his head once more. "Again."
When he was through with her this time, she could only moan as he slid up her body and teased her with the hard tip of his arousal. She tilted her hips to lure him deeper and linked her still-joined wrists around his neck. His chest just brushed the tips of her breasts.
His blue eyes glittered as he looked down at her. "I have you," he said, pressing home.
And, oh God, he did. Jilly shivered, suddenly so afraid of all the ways that he did have her … her body, her heart. She pressed her lips together to stop herself from blurting it out.
His mouth found her ear, traced it with his tongue. He pressed deeper still. "Do me, baby," he said hoarsely.
Jilly closed her eyes, the dark words lifting her higher. She raised her hips and matched his rhythm, letting desire take her one more time. He was relentless, coaxing her slow, then fast, insinuating his hand between them to add another teasing pressure.
Their gazes met. There was wonder in his, she thought. Something beyond desire. Something that made her heart slam against her chest. Something she wanted so badly to believe in. Trust me, he'd said. Then he closed his eyes and bent his head to bite the curve between her shoulder and her neck. Jilly cried out his name, and their bodies shuddered against each other.
She was still shivering when he rolled off her and onto his back, throwing one forearm over his face. Jilly fought for breath, still stunned by what he'd wrung from her body and even more by what she'd seen in his eyes.
"Jesus, Jilly," he said hoarsely.
Her heart speeded up again. Maybe—
"You're one hot fuck."
Her heart stopped. Her skin went cold. She looked down at her hands, still bound by the tasseled cord. Trust me, he'd said.
She'd been taught better. With a wrenching movement she shook free of the cord and then slid out of the bed, pushing the sheer drapes to one side. "I'll be going now," she told him quietly.
He grunted. "See you later."
"No. I'm done."
He opened his eyes and found her with his gaze. She didn't even flinch or attempt to cover her nakedness. "What?"
"I finished yesterday. Everything is cleared out and accounted for. I have a few boxes I'll take away in my car, but other than that, it's finished."
"We're not."
"Our bargain's off." She couldn't do it anymore and survive. Not when she had to work so hard not to tell him she loved him, and he only wanted a … a "hot fuck" in his bed. If she kept coming back here, she'd end up spilling her feelings to him, and God kn
ew she didn't want to give him that kind of power over her.
Not when she knew he was never going to love her back. He wouldn't want to. Rory saw her as something to enjoy, but not someone to truly care about. She'd been oh, so wrong. There was no victory in this kind of surrender.
He sat up slowly, his expression hardening. "I won't listen to your friend Kim. I won't help her."
Jilly drew in a long breath. "You should. You're wrong not to. But I'm not going to sleep with you anymore. Not even to get you to do the right thing. Good-bye, Rory."
With quick footsteps she walked toward the bathroom for her clothes. She was half dressed when he appeared in the doorway, dangerous and gorgeous in a black silk robe. Even now, that slice of his tanned chest she could see had the power to make her fingers clumsy.
"Not good-bye." His voice was harsh. "There's still the fund-raising party. You're expected to be there as my fiancée."
She shook her head and awkwardly slipped her arms into her shirt. "Expected by whom?"
"By me."
"Too bad." She grabbed her shoes, unwilling to take the time to put them on.
When she brushed past him in the doorway, he grabbed her arm. "I—I need you there at the party."
She paused, then steeled herself to deliver the ultimate wickedness, the ultimate lie. "You're a good fuck yourself, Rory, but not that good."
He dropped her arm as if it burned him, and she ran out of his room and ran out of the house, and wished she could run away just as easily from the futility of loving Rory.
* * *
Kim wandered about the floor of Things Past. The shop wasn't due to open for hours and she wasn't scheduled to work at all, but her apartment upstairs had seemed too … empty without Greg in it and in her bed. She hugged herself, not quite able to believe it hadn't all been a dream.
He'd left when it was morning, yet still almost dark, whispering something about wanting to be at Caidwater before Iris woke. "Don't think too much" had been the last words he'd said before giving her a kiss that had sent a sweet, sharp ache through her womb.
Greg had made her feel again.
She entered her small office, crossed to the pot of coffee she'd started brewing earlier, and poured herself a mugful. She cupped it in her palms, astonished at the heat pouring through the ceramic. Nearly burned, she quickly set the mug down and held her hot hands to her cheeks.
Heat, aches, desire. One kiss from Greg and it had all flooded back. No, that wasn't quite right. It had happened when he'd talked about his love for Iris, when he'd told Kim he'd stayed at Caidwater for her little girl. At that admission, pain had pierced her, nearly doubling her over. He'd loved Kim that much. No. He'd loved Iris that much.
She sat down, unable to trust her suddenly trembling legs. What was going to happen now? What would all this feeling do to her?
The sound of the locks turning on the front door and the cheerful jingle of the bells had Kim twisting in her seat to see Jilly slip into the shop. Her friend looked exhausted and Kim jumped to her feet and rushed toward her. "What's wrong?" she asked.
Jilly's eyes were shadowed. "Oh."
Oh? Kim's stomach dipped. Jilly had never merely said "Oh" in her life. "How bad is it?" she asked. "What happened?"
"It's that obvious?" Jilly said glumly.
"You without a forty-word answer for the color of the sky is enough to terrify me," Kim said. "'Oh' is a nine-one-one call."
Jilly looked down at her feet. They were bare and she was carrying her shoes. "Oh," she said again.
"You're scaring me, Jilly," Kim said. She grabbed her by the arm and led her into the office, where she pushed her down into a chair and poured her a cup of coffee. Three packets of sugar, the real stuff, and then she handed the mug to her friend. "Drink some, then tell me everything."
Jilly obediently sipped, then stared into the liquid. "I broke our vow."
Relief coursed through Kim. She laughed shakily. "Is that all?"
"And Rory knows who you are and he was really mad because he thought I was using him for your sake, so then we made a bargain and I was sleeping with him until he told me I was a good f—the 'F' word—and then I couldn't do it anymore because I actually, truly, really l-love him and I don't want him to see me just as a good f—the 'F' word—and so I walked out on him and I refuse to play his fiancée anymore and he's so angry I don't know what he'll do and I f—effed up everything."
This remarkable explanation was punctuated with one, tummy-deep sob. Jilly hastily set the mug on the desktop and buried her face in her hands.
Jilly in love? Kim had known her friend long enough to appreciate how much she feared the emotion. This truly was disaster. Kim waited for panic to set in, even as she put her arm around Jilly's shoulders. But instead, she felt undeniably calm as she murmured words of comfort. "It's going to be okay. You were foolish to make such a bargain for me, though."
Jilly looked up. "I did it for me," she whispered brokenly. "I wanted him, if just for a little while." She swallowed. "What are we going to do now?"
Kim blinked. The question was to her? Jilly was always the one with the plans. Always certain, always forging ahead. Kim just went along, or, at most, tweaked a detail here and there.
"Greg will probably be back soon," she said uncertainly. Surely he would know what to do next.
"Who?" Jilly asked.
Kim groaned, all that she'd kept from Jilly pinching her with guilt. "I broke our vow, too," she confessed. "With Greg Kincaid. You see, we … knew each other a long time ago. I was ashamed to tell you about it."
Jilly's face went paler as Kim related the details of the situation with Greg. When Kim was done, Jilly rubbed a shaking hand over her eyes. "You spent the night with your ex-husband's grandson? Rory isn't going to like this, Kim. I just know it."
Now the panic welled. Kim swallowed, trying to ease her suddenly tight throat. Once more that question rose up in her mind. What are we going to do?
Kim grabbed Jilly's supersweet coffee and gulped it down. Someone had to think of something. Greg. Maybe he could come up with a plan. Someone definitely had to come up with a plan.
That someone should be Kim.
Her throat tightened again at the thought. But it was true. For all these years she'd let someone else rescue her, first Roderick, then Jilly, and now she was turning to another person—to Greg—to solve a problem she'd created herself when she'd made the choice to marry. Once again she'd been resorting to the easy way.
But maybe she could face her own demons now. It certainly wasn't fair to expect anyone else to do it. "I'm going to talk to Rory myself," she said.
Jilly's hand jumped to her throat. "Y-you're going to Caidwater?" She knew how the house symbolized Kim's feelings of pain and powerlessness.
Kim paid no attention to Jilly's shock and grabbed her car keys off the desk. "Yes." It was time for her to face all her demons.
The bells hanging from the shop's front door shook as she exited, just as her hand quivered while she unlocked the car. But she was able to ignore her body's nervous response on the drive from FreeWest to Caidwater. Not until she reached the wrought-iron barriers at the bottom of the driveway did fear finally overtake her.
Twenty feet from the gates, Kim halted under the partial cover of an overgrown clump of scarlet bougainvillea. "You can do this," she whispered to herself, mustering the courage to pull up to the button that would announce her return.
As if sensing her presence, the gates suddenly began swinging open. Kim gasped, but then a low-slung Mercedes took the final curve of the driveway and came flying through them. She couldn't see the driver, but she guessed it was Rory.
Meaning she could go home. Her insides melted with relief. Some other time—
Coward.
The accusation lashed across her mind. The time to face Caidwater was now.
Biting her lip to stop the trembling, she met her eyes in the rearview mirror. "Do it," she whispered to herself. "Drive up to Caidwate
r and wait for Rory to return."
With a determined twist of the key, she started her car. Her foot slammed on the gas, accelerating the vehicle through the slowly closing gates. They shut silently behind her.
Kim braked, peering anxiously up the curving driveway. The house wasn't yet in sight, but its image hovered in her mind anyway. Like Roderick himself, Caidwater had become a vengeful, angry, and suspicious presence.
But her daughter was there.
Kim pressed the accelerator again, and the car slowly climbed the narrow blacktop. Then the house came into view. Kim shuddered, its salmon color reminding her of raw flesh. Gritting her teeth, she pulled into the curve that swept past the front door and parked.
It took all her willpower to open the car door and step out. She stared at the imposing entrance, trying to remember a time when the place hadn't terrified her. The front door was open, and it seemed like a voracious and greedy mouth, ready to swallow her up.
Kim walked forward reluctantly, with each step ticking off a mistake or weakness that had brought her to this point. She'd traded her body for security. She'd lost her daughter. She'd relied on Jilly to address her own mistakes. Cold waves of shame washed over her and she hated herself and her failures all over again.
How could a woman like her think she deserved a night of joy with Greg, let along a lifetime with her daughter? The past had tainted her.
Courage shredded, she abruptly spun back to her car. Pain sliced through her, but she ruthlessly ignored it. She'd left Greg and Iris before, dammit. She could do it again.
Then a commotion from the interior of the house made her glance around. "He's out again!" someone yelled. Little-girl squeals joined more shouts.
"Mrs. Mack! The front door's open!" The sound of pounding footsteps drifted through the open doorway.
Kim swiftly turned her head, anxious to get in her car before someone saw her. She rushed away from the house to the tune of more tumult coming from inside Caidwater. With her hand on the car's door handle, she glanced back nervously once more, just in time to see Greg—with Iris perched on his shoulders—erupt through the front door. The little girl clutched a big butterfly net.
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