One Hot Escape (Hot Brits Book 4)

by Anna Durand

  "Ah, well…" I scratch under my collar because this sodding costume seems to be made from poison-ivy thread. "I don't kiss and tell."

  "We're mates. That means you can tell me anything."

  "I'm still not discussing my sex life with you."

  He rolls his eyes, turning his attention to Maddie. "Is my mate Rick any good in bed? I certainly hope so. A woman like you needs intense passion in her life. If he can't handle you, I'm ready and willing to take over."

  Maddie chokes on the piece of cake she'd been chewing. Coughing, she swigs her cognac. That makes her cough even more.

  I pat her back, and I wonder why people do that when someone is hacking. Does that actually help? I doubt it.

  Dexter hurries over to a drinks cabinet in the corner. "I've got some mineral water in here. Let me get that for you, Maddie."

  He digs around inside the cabinet until he finds a glass bottle full of clear liquid. Hustling back to us, he hands the water to her. "Small sips, dear."

  She heeds his advice, taking dainty sips until her coughing subsides. "Thank you for the offer, Dex, but I'm good."

  Our host smirks again, his eyes twinkling with humor. "You mean Richard is good. Glad to hear it. I can't stand to see a woman whose passion goes unexplored, like a secret map that no man dares to read."

  A secret map? Maddie's body is not a secret to me. I know every millimeter of it by heart.

  Dexter looks at me. "Would you mind if I dance with your lover?"

  "She's my date for tonight. The rest is none of your concern." I set my plate on the table. "And it's Maddie's choice whether she dances with you, not mine."

  The woman in question leans in to whisper in my ear, "Sure you won't be jealous if I do? He strikes me as the hold-her-close kind of dance partner."

  "I'm not jealous," I hiss out of the corner of my mouth. "Dance with whoever you want."

  "Might be good for your business deal if I indulge him a little, but I'd much rather twirl around the room in your arms."

  She smiles, squeezes my thigh, and tells Dexter, "I'd love to take a spin with you."

  He rises and winks at her. "I love to dip women—deeply. Get a much better view of their tits that way."

  Dexter grabs a remote control off the table and clicks buttons until a waltz begins to play through the speakers in the corner. He offers Maddie his hand. She accepts it, and they walk to the open area past the coffee table. Together, they assume the standard, genteel ballroom stance that keeps their hands in plain sight. They dance like that for about thirty seconds.

  Then he pulls her snug against his body and slides his hand down to her arse.

  Oh yes, he's a cheeky codger for sure.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Maddie

  Dexter twirls me around in the small area in which we dance. Despite the fact he has his palm on my ass and I'm crushed against his body, he dances like a gentleman—elegant and courteous, never dragging me across the floor, but always leading the way. He's a superb dancer, but the whole time we're waltzing, I keep wondering what it would feel like to dance with Rick like this. Does he know how to waltz? I don't, so I'm faking it by following Dex's lead.

  He might be a dirty-minded senior citizen, but he's also a sweet man. He genuinely seems to care if Richard and I have good sex. I've decided that's his way of expressing his belief that we make a good couple.

  Do we? I think so, but I have no idea what Rick thinks.

  As the beautiful music winds down, Dexter dips me. Deeply, just like he swore he would. But he's not ogling my boobs. He's smiling at Richard.

  "Your turn, Rick," our host says. "I bet you'll dip her thoroughly tonight, won't you?"

  I can't see Richard, since I have my head tipped backward away from that part of the room. I hope he's not annoyed that I called him Rick in front of Dexter, who now loves to use that nickname. Richard accepted our host's offer to call him Dex, so I'm guessing he'll be okay with the Rick thing.

  Dex pulls me up out of the dip and steps away from me, holding my hand up. "Get over here and claim her, Rick. She's a stimulating partner."

  Rick swallows the last of his cognac, clears his throat, and walks over to us.

  Dexter grasps Rick's hand, raising it, and places mine in his palm.

  "There," Dexter says. "Enjoy holding her against you. She's a treasure. I'll start the music for you."

  Our host returns to his chair, grabbing the remote for the stereo.

  Richard cautiously lays a hand on my lower back. Once I place my hand on his shoulder, the music starts up. Another waltz. He whirls me around and around, his gaze capturing mine, his lips curved in a subdued smile. I love the sensation of his hand on my back, and I wish he'd take a cue from Dexter and slide that hand lower to cup my bottom. I didn't mind when Dex did that, but I'd love for Rick to touch me that way.

  He doesn't, though. He keeps a small gap between us and keeps his hands right where they're supposed to be.

  I can't resist slanting closer to murmur, "Waltzing was a scandalous act back in Victorian days. Being so close to your partner meant you were the worst kind of rake."

  "Yes, I read an article from the eighteen-sixties that explained how waltzing could cause sickness because holding a woman too near your body will inevitably lead to intercourse later in the evening. And syphilis was a serious concern." He draws me closer, our bodies pressed together. "I'm beginning to understand why the author of that article made that claim. Dancing with you is almost as sensual as making love."

  "I didn't feel that way when I danced with Dex." I glide my hand across his shoulder, spreading my fingers over his throat. "But with you, I'm getting warm all over."

  "As much as I want you, Madeleine, I can't do it. You need time to recover."

  "We can do things that don't involve penetration. I've got lots of ideas about that."

  He chuckles, too softly for Dexter to have heard. "You have quite the appetite, don't you?"

  "Am I being too forward? I'm not usually like this, but I can't help it when I'm with you." I tickle his neck with my fingertips. "If you don't want me to seduce you, better stop being so irresistible."

  "I'm not complaining. I love your passion."

  Glass clinking spurs us both to glance toward Dexter.

  He's holding his snifter, tapping it with his fork. "You two look about ready to retire for the evening. And by 'retire' I mean shagging in your room. You are staying the night, aren't you?"

  Richard freezes, forcing me to halt too. "I'd assumed the helicopter would take us back to the resort."

  "I could call the pilot to retrieve you, but I'd much rather you both stay here. I have plenty of room. Then we can discuss your offer in the morning."

  "But I thought we would talk about that tonight."

  Richard's body has tensed up like he's anxious about the business deal. Maybe he worries Dexter will put him off again in the morning. He did say he's been courting Dex for a while without any luck.

  I approach Dexter, leaning forward to touch his arm. I know I'm also giving him a good look at my cleavage, and yeah, I do that on purpose. What's the use of having tits if I can't use them to help my boyfriend? If Richard is my boyfriend. Maybe we're just lovers.

  Ugh. Like that matters right now.

  With my cleavage in full view, I say, "Please, Dex, don't make Rick wait until morning. He came all this way to meet you. As a favor to me, talk to him now."

  His focus gravitates to my chest. "I never can say no to a beautiful woman in a Victorian gown. All right, let's discuss this publishing rubbish."

  I kiss his cheek. "Thank you, Dex. You're a sweetie."

  "Does that mean we can get a leg over while Rick is asleep?"

  Shaking my head, I grab Richard's hand and lead him back to the sofa. Once we've sat down, Dex pours us each another glass of cognac.

  "Business meetings require liquor," he declares.

  "Only in th
e Caribbean," Richard says. He takes a tiny sip. "Why don't you tell me about your new book? You've been rather cagey about the storyline. In fact, you've told me nothing except that it will be 'glorious' and 'crackerjack.' I'm anxious to hear more about it."

  Dexter swigs his cognac, swallowing almost all of it. With a satisfied sigh, he relaxes into his chair. "I suppose it is time I share the details."

  Rick seems to be clenching his jaw, and his hand on his thigh is tense too, his fingers crooked into his leg. Jeez, he's way more anxious about this than I realized. So I lay my hand over his, rubbing my thumb in slow circles until his fingers relax.

  "All right, the story," Dexter says while he swirls the remaining cognac in his glass. "I've taken a different approach with this book. It's quite a departure from my previous works, but there's a good reason for that. I got so bloody sick of writing literary novels about blokes who wander about here, there, and everywhere searching for meaning in life. Do you want to know the real answer to that question? What is the meaning of life?"

  A muscle ticks in Richard's jaw, and his fingers start to crook into his thigh again.

  I peel his hand away from his leg and thread my fingers with his.

  He exhales the breath he must've been holding and flashes me a grateful smile. "Go on, Dex. Share the meaning of life with us."

  "It's bollocks. There is no overarching plan, no soul-inspiring insight. You're born, you shag, you die. The end."

  Rick screws up his mouth. "I think I saw that on a T-shirt. Now, are you going to tell me about your book or not? I flew here from England just to hear this."

  "But Madeleine must've been expecting a tropical holiday, not a business meeting. Why else would she travel here with you?"

  "The book, Dex. Now."

  Our host simply smiles, the expression as inscrutable as the man himself. I'm getting the idea that Dex likes to keep people wondering, possibly because he enjoys the attention. He must be lonely living here with only a small staff. I assume he has that staff since it's clear someone cleans the house and cooks the meals. Plus, an older woman served our dinner.

  Though it's not my business, maybe I can assist Richard in this discussion. Dex likes me, and I like him, so I've got a bit of leverage here.

  I hold up my empty snifter. "Would you mind if I have a little more of your delicious cognac, Dex?"

  He lights up, leaning forward to pick up the bottle. "Of course, dear Madeleine. I'm glad you like it. This bottle cost two thousand East Caribbean dollars."

  While he refills my glass, I sit there frozen. "Two thousand? How much is that in American dollars?"

  "I've no idea."

  "Eight hundred American dollars," Rick says.

  I glance down at my now-full glass. "Holy shit. That's still a lot of money. The most expensive bottle of wine I ever bought cost ninety dollars."

  Dexter holds the bottle out to Richard. "Care for a little more? I love burning through money, but drinking it is even better."

  "No, thank you. About your manuscript…"

  "Relax, Rick, I'll tell you soon enough." He winks. "But let's watch Maddie enjoy liquid sex before we get back to business."

  My boyfriend, or whatever he is to me, clenches his jaw and his hands, tightening those into fists on his thighs. Either Dex doesn't notice, or he doesn't care.

  I kiss Rick's cheek and whisper into his ear, "I'll handle this."

  Yeah, I can handle Dex. But it might require a small sacrifice, one that involves doing something I've never done before.

  That's right. To spare Richard from potential murder charges, if Dex keeps stringing him along, I will get drunk. Well, tipsy. I already feel looser than usual thanks to the cognac, but I'm willing to go all the way to get this done.

  I throw back my entire glass of cognac in one gulp. It sizzles down my throat and rushes through my system with a heady warmth that incongruously makes me shiver. "Ooh, that's wonderful. I love this stuff even more with every new glassful." I thrust my snifter out toward Dex. "More, please."

  "Haven't you had enough?" Rick asks.

  "Mm-mm. I need more." Do I sound like a lusty coed at her first frat party? Yeah, I am lusting after that cognac. And Rick. How much fun would it be to pour cognac all over his body and lick it all up? Lots, I'm sure. So I hold out my snifter. "Hit me again, Dex. Make it a double. Or whatever comes after double. Tribble? Something like that."

  He pours me another glass of yummy liquid heaven. His smile carves out dimples in his cheeks. He looks like Santa Claus, except for that naughty glint in his eyes and the Victorian outfit he's wearing. If he'd lived way back when, Dexter would've been the wickedest rake in London.

  I knock back the entire glass in one swallow, giggling and shivering. "Oh wow, I love it more every time I take it into my mouth. I'm getting kind of tingly all over."

  And that feeling makes me look at Rick. Or Richard. Which does he prefer? I can't remember right now, so I'll call him Rick. It's a sexy, sexy, hot and sexy name. If Rick had lived in ye olden days, he would've been the man every woman wants to marry and shag and do…uh, other stuff with. My thoughts are getting kind of fuzzy, and my body feels soft and warm, but I kind of like this. A massage in a bottle, that's what this cognac is. A naughty massage.

  I want Rick to give me one of those. Right now. On the coffee table.

  Wow, who knew getting bombed could make me so horny? Not that I am bombed. I don't think I am, but… whatever.

  Dex offers me the bottle. "Want the rest, lovey?"

  "Yes," I say, the last letter drawn out into a hissing sound.

  Rick snatches the bottle away before I can grab it. Though I had reached for the bottle, my fingers kept scooting right past it for some weird reason.

  Is this a buzz? People talk about that, but I've never gotten tipsy before, so I have no idea what a buzz feels like. Whatever you call it, me want more.

  "She's had enough," Rick declares.

  I giggle and hiccup. "Okay-okay, I'm done."

  "Glad to hear it." Rick sets the bottle on the table.

  I wag a finger at Dexter. "Oh now, Dexy, you naughty boy. Tell Rick what he wants to know. He won't give up until you do. And he won't take me to our room and screw me for hours and hours until you tell him about your bookie thingy. He's fabulous in the sack, so I'm dying for him to shag me again. Isn't that just the cutest word for sex? Shag. Shagging. Shagged. Shaggeth? No, that doesn't sound right."

  Did I say all that out loud?

  Rick gapes at me.

  Okay, guess I did say that out loud.

  Dexter busts out laughing.

  "This is not amusing," Rick says. "You've enabled her to get drunk. I should've stopped this before you gave her more cognac."

  "All right, don't have kittens about it," Dexter says. He pulls out the drawer in the little table beside his chair and brings out a big stack of letter-size sheets of paper. Setting that on his lap, he lays a hand atop the stack. "Here's the manuscript. It's a work of carnivalesque erotica titled Under the Satyr's Moon, which explores the sexual appetites of a group of people who meet at a fete in a small English village and proceed to turn it into a devilish festival of lust."

  Rick stares at Dex. He doesn't blink—or breathe, it seems like. He just sits there with his hands clamped over his knees, bent forward slightly. "Carnivalesque what?"

  "Erotica." Dex offers the manuscript to Rick. "Take your time reading it."

  "Is this a joke?" he asks as he gingerly takes the stack of papers, setting it on his lap.

  "No joke. It's what I've written."

  I giggle again, but it mutates into all-out guffaws with a few more hiccups in there too. Now I'm laughing so hard my stomach muscles start to cramp up, and I collapse against the sofa with tears streaming down my cheeks.

  "Best take her to bed," Dex announces. "She needs a good lie-in."

  Though my tears blur my vision, I can tell Rick is still looking shell
-shocked.

  I intend to lean toward Rick, but instead, I fall over and wind up with my face in his lap. Yeah, I've face-planted on that manuscript. It smells nice. "Please, take me to bed, Rrrrrick."

  Why that syllable comes out so long, I have no idea.

  "Yes, I think it is Maddie's bedtime," Rick says.

  "I asked Ilsa to make sure a room would be ready for you two," Dexter replies. "Just in case."

  My eyes drift closed. He pulls the manuscript out from under my face, and I hear a rustling sound, but I have no idea what it is. He's jostling me too, but only a teeny bit.

  He picks me up and stands. "Could you point me in the right direction?"

  "Up the stairs, third door on the left."

  "Thank you. Good night, Dexter."

  As he carries me away, I fling out an arm to wave at our host, with my eyes still closed. I'm guessing about which direction to wave. "Nightie-night, Dexy."

  He chuckles. "Good night, Maddie."

  I throw my arm around Rick's neck. The other arm seems to be stuck, trapped between his body and mine. "Make love to me, Rrrrrick."

  "Yes, Rick, you do that," Dexter says.

  A door slams shut. I think that might mean Rick slammed the sitting-room door. Oh, whatever. I feel like liquid sex now, all hot and soft and… What was I thinking about?

  I hear his footsteps on the stairs, but he manages to hold me so I don't bounce at all or fall out of his arms. Wow, he's got skills. Is that the right word? Not sure. Skills. The word sounds weird, like it's not actually a word after all.

  When he lays me down on the bed, I moan and cuddle up with the pillow.

  And I fall asleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Richard

  Madeleine Solberg got plastered tonight. I wonder if she's never done that before since she seemed rather…surprised by the feeling. She's always wonderful to be with, but seeing her like this, I can't help being charmed by her drunken antics. She's lying on the bed, on top of the covers, still drowned in layers of Victorian clothing. I can't leave her like that, can I? This house does seem to have air conditioning, but still, she might get overheated with all that fabric suffocating her.