Any Way You Want It

by Maureen Smith

  How could she have forgotten about the illicit fantasies she’d once had about Remy? How could she have forgotten that the second time she and Heath made love, she’d closed her eyes and pictured Remy rising above her, his face tender with longing as he thrust into her.

  Or maybe she hadn’t forgotten. Maybe she’d simply suppressed the memory because she was ashamed, and she was afraid to analyze the meaning of her fantasies. She was good at that. Burying memories, suppressing feelings.

  Heath gave a sympathetic chuckle. “You have no reason to be embarrassed, Zandra. Although you didn’t know it at the time, you were in love with Remington. So it was only natural that you’d imagine him during our lovemaking.” He paused. “Now if it had been some random bloke whose name you called out, then I might have taken umbrage.”

  Zandra stared at him, aghast. “Please don’t tell me I—”

  “Oh, heavens, no. Nothing like that.” Heath’s gray eyes glinted with humor. “Well...maybe once or twice.”

  He laughed as Zandra groaned and covered her face with her hands.

  After the barista came over and removed their empty plates, Zandra smiled ruefully at Heath. “Enough about me and my Freudian issues. How are you doing? Are you seeing anyone special?”

  “Not at the moment. Oh, I’ve dabbled in relationships over the years, but there’s been no one special.” He smiled wistfully. “You ruined me for all others, Zandra.”

  “I’m truly sorry to hear that,” she said softly. “If there was any way for me to make it up to you, I would.”

  Heath reached across the table and gently took her hand.

  She stared at their entwined fingers, then slowly raised her eyes to his.

  There was an edge of sadness to his quiet smile. “In case my cancer comes back, and I never see you again...there is one thing you can do for me before you leave.”

  Zandra held his gaze. “Anything.”

  He hesitated for a long moment. “I need to see you with him. Hearing about him is one thing. Seeing the two of you together...that’s what will finally set me free.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was after one when Zandra returned to 51 Buckingham Gate, a luxury hotel nestled on a secluded side street between Buckingham Palace and Westminster Cathedral. The moment she stepped from the chauffeured vehicle, the concierge materialized to take her shopping bags up to an opulently furnished presidential suite that featured beautiful artwork, a separate living and dining room, a kitchen, and views overlooking the hotel’s lavishly landscaped courtyard garden.

  She hadn’t been back long when Remy returned from the conference. She helped him out of his suit jacket and fixed him a drink from the bar.

  When he saw all the shopping bags in the room, he laughed and shook his head at her. “I guess I don’t have to ask how you spent your morning.”

  She gave him a saucy grin. “Don’t make fun of me. You know what a clotheshorse I am. Besides, you’re the one who banned me from attending your panel session.” Her grin widened. “How was it, by the way? Were you able to concentrate any better?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips across hers, “all I could think about was the way you looked in bed when I left this morning.”

  “Mmm,” Zandra purred, letting her tongue touch his. “Guess that defeated the purpose of the banishment, huh?”

  “Guess so.” His tongue swept the underside of her upper lip before dipping inside her mouth.

  Shivering with arousal, she forced herself to pull back and smile up at him. “Are you ready to go sightseeing?”

  “Yeah.” His eyes glinted wickedly. “But not the kind of sightseeing you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, no,” she warned laughingly, stepping away from him. “Uh-uh. We’re not doing that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we stayed in bed most of yesterday doing that.”

  He wiggled his brows suggestively. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

  She grinned. “That’s not the point, Remy. Look, while you were in the military, you never came here for pleasure. London is a great city. I want you to experience it with me.”

  He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. We can do the tourist thing.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Just let me catch my breath first.” Ice clinked in his glass as he sipped his scotch, then smiled at her. “Why don’t you show me some of the clothes you bought.”

  Zandra grinned. “You mean the clothes you bought?” she reminded him, because even though she could more than afford her own shopping spree, Remy had insisted on spoiling her during this trip, refusing to let her pay for even a pack of gum.

  “Yeah,” he drawled teasingly, “let me see how you spent my hard-earned money, woman.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Tugging his silk tie loose, Remy sat on the king-size bed and watched as Zandra modeled one designer outfit after another. She made him laugh as she strutted back and forth, struck haughty poses and dramatically executed the half pivots perfected by runway models. Remy clapped, whistled appreciatively and pretended to snap pictures of her like a fashion photog.

  But when she emerged from the bathroom in nothing more than pink lace lingerie and racy six-inch stilettos, all traces of humor vanished from his face. He stared at her with naked hunger as she slinked over to him, breasts bouncing softly from the cups of her sheer bra.

  “My God,” he whispered.

  “What’s wrong?” Glancing innocently down at her body, Zandra feigned shock at discovering herself unclothed.

  “Oops,” she breathed in her best sex-kitten voice. “Looks like I forgot something.”

  Remy’s eyes darkened.

  Zandra gave him a coquettish smile and winked, then turned and sashayed back toward the bathroom. She didn’t get very far before Remy grabbed her from behind, making her squeal with laughter as he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He lowered her to the mattress, his body following hers as he peeled her panties down her legs and over her stilettos.

  “See, woman, I tried to be good, but you just had to be bad.”

  Zandra grinned as he unzipped his pants. “I couldn’t resist.”

  “Neither can I,” he whispered, staring into her eyes as he sank into her moist flesh and shuddered. “Neither can I.”

  Eventually they made their way out of bed and ventured out to explore the city. Since they’d gotten a late start, Zandra knew they would only have time to see a few things in order to keep their dinner reservation. But that was fine with her. They had four more days to spend together, and she intended to savor every moment.

  Strolling hand in hand, they wandered from place to place enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of London.

  At St. Paul’s Cathedral, they spent time gazing up at the dome’s interior and marveling at the stunning monochromatic mural. Then Zandra led Remy by the hand up to the Whispering Gallery. Taking advantage of the dome’s unusual acoustics, they whispered romantic messages to each other that could be heard on the opposite side of the mezzanine level. This lasted until Remy’s sweet nothings turned raunchy. Breathless with laughter, Zandra raced around and grabbed him, hustling him out of the historic place of worship before they got struck by lightning.

  Still in a playful mood, they headed to Trafalgar Square and laughingly frolicked in the fountain, earning amused stares and smiles from passersby. Before their antics could draw attention from the boys in blue, they left and strolled to a popular adult store in Waterloo.

  They roamed from one level to another, browsing through a kinky array of costumes, lubricants and sex toys. Remy followed close behind Zandra, licking the nape of her neck and sending sensual shivers through her as she handled nipple clamps, cock rings, leather handcuffs, dildos and vibrators.

  “I’m gonna fuck you so good later tonight,” he murmured in her ear.

  “Oh, my,” Zandr
a breathed as her nipples hardened and cream thickened between her thighs. “You are such a naughty boy, Remington Brand.”

  “And you love it.”

  She smiled wickedly. “You know I do.”

  By the time they left the store armed with a bag of goodies, she was more excited than ever about the erotic adventure she had planned for them tomorrow night.

  As dusk fell, they stood on the banks of the Thames kissing and cuddling as they watched the city’s bright lights streak across the gently rippling water.

  Afterward they returned to the hotel, showered and donned evening wear for dinner at Clos Maggiore, an upscale French restaurant nestled in the heart of Covent Garden. They were seated inside the enchanting conservatory, which boasted an open fireplace and lush greenery beneath a twinkling canopy of starlight. It was breathtakingly romantic, with a warm summer breeze wafting over the candlelit tables and piped music playing subtly in the background.

  As they dined on roasted venison fillet and succulent Charolais beef, they talked and laughed companionably. Zandra teased Remy by reeling off an exhaustive list of places they would visit and things they would do during their stay. Afternoon tea at The Ritz, tours of the National Gallery and Tower of London, a speedboat ride down the Thames, a sunset dinner on the top of Primrose Hill, the London Ghost Walk to retrace the steps of Jack the Ripper.

  Remy listened with quiet amusement as she shared her fondest memories of the four years she’d resided in London. She left out any mention of Heath because she didn’t want to risk making Remy jealous, and thinking about Heath reminded her of the things he’d said about her secret feelings for Remy. Feelings she’d hidden from herself for so long.

  She didn’t want to dwell on those thoughts any more than she already had. So she pushed them aside and focused on the here and now.

  After the main course, she and Remy were served a lavender-infused crème brûlée and a decadent chocolate tiramisu. As they tasted each other’s rich desserts and groaned, Zandra slipped off her stiletto heels and ran her bare toes up and down Remy’s strong calf, enjoying the fine wool texture of his suit pants.

  He smiled, slow and heart-stoppingly sexy. “Why, Miss Kennedy, are you playing footsie with me?” The words were teasing, but his deep voice was husky with arousal.

  “I think so,” she purred. “I’ve never done it before.”

  “Never done what?”

  “Played footsie. Can you believe that?”

  His eyes darkened. “Well, you’re doing one helluva job.”

  Zandra smiled demurely and sipped her red wine, glancing around at the other diners. Satisfied that no one was paying attention to them, she slid her foot up Remy’s leg to his hard, muscled thigh.

  His sharp intake of breath gave her a wicked thrill of satisfaction. Emboldened, she rubbed her foot against the thick, rigid bulge of his erection.

  He made a sound—a deep, rough sound that bordered on a growl. The eyes that met hers were smoldering.

  Before she could coyly retreat, he reached beneath the table and caught her foot, trapping it against that delicious male hardness.

  Her pulse jumped and raced as she stared at him. She felt reckless, naughty, heady with excitement and desire.

  As his warm, strong fingers began massaging her toes, she whimpered softly with pleasure. Heat pooled in her loins, and her heart pounded so violently she had to set her glass down on the table before she dropped it.

  Remy’s talented fingers moved to the soles of her feet, gently kneading and caressing until it was all she could do not to moan and writhe in her chair. She squeezed her thighs together, but that did nothing to quell the lust surging through her body.

  “So you’ve never played footsie before?” Remy asked in that low, husky rumble that always made her tingle all over.

  She shook her head, not trusting her voice.

  “How is that even possible, as naughty as you are?”

  She could only smile.

  “Has anyone ever sucked your toes before?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Good.” His eyes glittered fiercely. “Then I can be the first for that, too.”

  Zandra bit back a groan. Her nipples were achingly hard and her clit was swollen, slick with her arousal. She wanted to come. Needed to come.

  And then suddenly she was, staring into Remy’s eyes as pleasure rolled through her...pussy muscles tightening...fingers clenching on the linen tablecloth...teeth biting down on her lip to keep herself from crying out.

  Remy watched her intently, his eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction. “Mmm. Another erogenous zone.”

  “That I knew nothing about,” Zandra rasped.

  The waiter chose that moment to appear. “More wine, ma’am?”

  Zandra swallowed hard, cheeks flushed. “Yes. Please.”

  As he solicitously topped off her glass, she looked at Remy. As he stared back at her, she couldn’t resist rubbing her foot against his bulging shaft.

  She felt him shudder, saw his nostrils flare.

  Looking at the waiter, he all but growled, “I’ll take the check now.”

  Sometime later that night, Zandra awakened to find herself alone in the huge, rumpled bed. Confused and disoriented, she sat up slowly, clutching the sex-scented sheets to her naked breasts.

  Glancing around the room, she saw Remy standing at the windows. His chest was bare and he wore white pajama bottoms as he stared outside, a brooding figure bathed in moonlight.

  Zandra watched him for a few moments.

  “Hey,” she whispered.

  He turned and looked at her. “Hey.”

  “What’re you doing up? Couldn’t sleep?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t. Not directly. I sensed...that you were gone.” She looked at him, but his face was cloaked in shadows and she couldn’t read his expression. But she didn’t have to. She could sense the tension radiating from him. Tension and turmoil.

  She frowned. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  She didn’t believe him, and he knew it.

  He held her gaze another moment, then turned back to the windows. “Get some sleep,” he said gruffly. “We’ve got a full day tomorrow.”

  “I know,” she drawled. “I’m the one who set up the itinerary, remember?”

  He didn’t respond.

  She slid quietly from the bed and bent down to pick up the silk robe that Remy had peeled from her body before they made love. She slipped it on and loosely knotted the sash, then padded across the room.

  Reaching Remy, she slid her arms around his back, moving her palms up to the thick pad of his pectorals. He caught her hands and brought them to his mouth, making her shiver as he tenderly brushed a kiss across her knuckles.

  She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his broad back, absorbing the heat of his skin. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Remington.”

  She felt his muscles tighten, and then he stepped out of her embrace and started across the room. “Come on. Let’s go back to bed.”

  She didn’t follow him. “I don’t want to.”

  “Zandra—”

  “I want to know what’s bothering you. And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I know better.”

  Heaving an impatient breath, he turned back to face her. “This is supposed to be a romantic getaway—”

  “And that won’t change, unless you want it to.”

  “Damn it.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and growled, “Leave it alone, Zandra.”

  “I can’t.” Her voice softened. “And neither can you.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then pivoted on his heel and stalked from the bedroom.

  She followed him through the darkened suite to the kitchen. She turned on the light, wincing at the sudden brightness as she watched him remove a beer from the refrigerator and twist the cap off the bottle.


  “Remy—”

  He tipped back the beer and drank deep.

  “Something is obviously troubling you.” Her voice was gentle and soothing, as if she were trying to calm a wounded but feral animal. “It’s about what happened three years ago, isn’t it?”

  He didn’t answer her.

  “If it’s confidentiality you’re worried about—”

  “No.” His voice was flat. “It’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  He remained silent, brushing past her to walk into the living room.

  Undeterred, Zandra turned and followed him. He sat in a chair, and she knew it had been deliberate. He didn’t want her sitting close to him.

  Her throat tightened at the sting of his rejection.

  Ignoring the plush sofa and other chairs, she lowered herself to the floor at his feet, tucking her legs under her. She was determined to get through to him once and for all, even if it took all night.

  “Talk to me, Remy,” she said softly.

  He sat with his back at an angle to the kitchen. The light cast shadows over his face, making it so impenetrable he might as well have been covered with the camouflage paint he’d once worn.

  “I feel like you’re keeping an important part of yourself from me,” Zandra whispered. “And it hurts.”

  Something like guilt flickered in the dark eyes that met hers. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I know.” She swallowed tightly and moistened her dry lips. “You were there for me after my mother died. You took leave so you could look after me, and those two weeks you were home meant everything to me. You brought me food and made me eat when no one else could. You comforted me, held me when I needed you to. You kept me from falling completely apart, Remy.”

  He leaned his head back against the chair. “Zandra—”

  “Ever since you came back I’ve wanted to return the favor, but you haven’t let me.” She shook her head. “It’s not fair.”