by A. C. Arthur
Bree was momentarily speechless. “Ookay.” She paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. “I don’t see how that’s going to help us figure out who’s after you though.”
Renny lifted his glass, took a slow, lazy sip, then set it down again. “You said your parents were from Louisiana. So you’re Creole?”
“My parents are Creole. I was born in Manhattan.”
“Interesting,” he murmured.
Her face was very interesting. Soft planes and angles that he could just imagine his fingers gliding over. She had such detail in her features, from the curve of her jaw to the strong indentation of her lips. High cheekbones and great, expressive eyes. He admitted a certain amount of ignorance in the arena of origins, except for his own, but noticed that she was darker than the pictures of Creoles he’d seen. Maybe she was more a mixture of African Creole. He’d heard of the different mixtures, especially out of Louisiana. Whatever the case, she was beautiful and he suddenly wanted to be in his studio working on the sculpture that had taken his mind away from his other work.
“Come with me.” He stood abruptly reaching for her hand. “I want to show you something.” She would never pose for him; he wouldn’t even waste his time asking. But her inquisitive nature would not allow her to leave his studio without looking around. She’d been in there once, when she’d been planting her cameras and other stuff. He’d seen how every so often her eyes roamed to his worktable, his stands full of completed and uncompleted pieces. She was curious and he’d play on that curiosity to study her until he captured every nuance of her being in that piece.
“Show me what? I need to clean up these dishes and get ready for when Sam arrives.” She didn’t want to go anywhere with him. The look in his eyes was close to…almost like…a bedroom glance…a prelude to seduction. Her heart hammered in her chest at that proclamation. His hand was outstretched waiting for hers. If she took it, she’d feel that warmth already circulating inside escalate; she’d want him to hold her close again, to kiss her as he had last night. No. She shook her head. She wasn’t touching him and he couldn’t make her.
Tired of waiting for her cooperation, Renny clasped her shoulders, pulled her to a standing position, then took her hand. She wouldn’t close her fingers around his, but it didn’t matter, he had a strong grip and he practically pulled her out of the kitchen.
“Renny, I have work to do,” she complained.
“So do I.” And if you’d stop being so damned stubborn I could get on with it.
They were going through the living room now. Bree gave up the struggle and walked placidly behind him. She’d get this over with quickly, then get away from him just as fast. They were headed toward his studio. What could he want to show her in there?
The light was already on from earlier when he’d been in here talking to Rico. He moved to his worktable, sat in the swivel stool he used when he worked and pulled her between his legs. There wasn’t enough light.
He reached across the cluttered table and flicked on a smaller lamp, tilting it so that it shone brightly in her face.
Bree squinted. “Is this some sort of interrogation?”
“No, I wanted you to see what I’m working on. I thought maybe you could help me out a bit.”
She was positioned precariously between his legs, his hands resting on her waist. She couldn’t complain about the closeness or the feel of his touch. That would be a blatant lie. But did she have to like it so much? “I don’t know much about art, so I’m not sure I’ll be able to help you.”
“You don’t have to know about art.” He moved his hands to rub up and down her bare arms. “You just have to know about sex and how it makes you feel.”
Her eyes widened and she was sure her body temperature rose another ten degrees. Could he read her mind? Did he know she was thinking about straddling him right here in his studio? Of course not, he was talking about his sculptures and how provocative they were. “Wha-what’s the new…ah, piece you’re working on?”
The darkness of her eyes intensified, her cheeks growing in color just a pinch. In his photographic mind he captured that mood before reaching over to pull his latest piece closer. “This is what I started on the other day.”
Bree turned her head, expecting to see another piece similar to the ones in the foundry. Instead she saw a few wires, twisted into a form resembling two human bodies and pieces of clay covering almost all of one of the forms. She frowned a bit before asking, “What is it?”
Renny gave a quick smile. “It’s not complete. When it is it will be a man and his woman.”
His woman. The words echoed in her head. What would it be like to be Lorenzo Bennett’s woman?
“Oh. And what are he and his woman doing?” His hands were no longer on her; he’d moved them to the base of the sculpture, rubbing absently over the half-covered piece. Her thighs touched his as she turned herself to face the sculpture.
Renny now had a profile of that pretty face, the nose that protruded and rounded at the tip, the lips that looked puckered and ready to kiss. Her hair was down, falling around her shoulders, and he reached up to push it back out of his way.
“Are they having sex?” she asked in a tentative voice.
Renny turned his attention back to the piece. “No. They’re making love.”
The rich timbre of his voice sent shivers down her spine, yet she didn’t make any effort to move away. “Can I?” She motioned as if she wanted to touch the piece.
“Sure.” He waited until her fingers were grazing the cool clay. “I’m having trouble capturing the intensity in their eyes when he enters her. You know the moment they connect, the moment she feels him filling her completely?”
He whispered, his breath warm against her ear, and Bree tilted her head to the side. She could make out the wire formations clearly now. They were lying on a chair or a bench, her legs up on his shoulders, his face turned slightly, planting a kiss on her ankle. She could almost hear the moans. She definitely felt the wetness between her own legs and could only imagine what the woman was feeling. She closed her eyes even as her hands roamed over the incomplete beings. “It’s like nothing she’s ever known. Nothing she could ever imagine. Her legs are shaking because he has excited her so much.”
Renny turned to her and saw that her eyes were closed, that she was feeling the mood just as he’d wanted to capture it. He picked up more clay, smoothed it over the wire that would be the woman. Using one of his knives he carved away the excess, sculpting it as her words, the lull of her voice seemed to guide his every stroke.
“She feels him at her entrance, just the tip of him. He pulls away, almost teasingly. She whimpers.” After speaking, Bree made a sound that sounded foreign to her own ears. “He kisses her ankle to soothe her, to promise her completion.” She stopped, unable to speak for the feeling of desire overwhelming her.
In that lapse of time Renny dropped the knife, turned her to face him and took her mouth savagely. His tongue pushed her lips aside, moving swiftly to ravage the recesses of her mouth. His hands rubbed up and down her back in heated strokes.
Then she moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He lifted her at the waist, pulled her legs around him and sat her astride. She held on to his neck, pulling at the hair on top of his head that was longer than on the sides. She kissed him with a hunger he thought only existed within himself and he fed her, oh, how he fed her. With his tongue, his lips, his hands all over her back, her butt, he gave her what she was asking for. The need to taste more of her grew in an instant and he pulled at the hem of her shirt until it was over her head and tossed to the floor. His hands groped her breasts as she arched backward, allowing complete access. Creamy mounds strained over the sturdy white cotton of her bra and Renny pushed that fabric away to reveal darkened nipples.
With a guttural groan he sank his teeth into their softness, laving his tongue over the rigid nipple. She grabbed his head again, pressing his face deeper into her, cradling him as if she
were feeding him. Now it was his turn to feast. He cupped the heavy mounds in both hands, lifting them higher, higher until both nipples were at his lips, begging for attention.
Bree was on fire, her panties soaked from the inside out. He was licking her breasts, treating them as if they were some scrumptious delicacy, and she loved it. She loved the feel of his strong hands on her bare skin; loved his tongue moving hotly over her. She wanted this and so much more. In the back of her mind logic screamed for her to get far away from this man, the danger light flashing bright red, yet she couldn’t let go. Her fingers actually twined together behind his head in rebellion.
“I want you, Sabrina. I want you now,” Renny growled as he rubbed his throbbing erection against her hot center.
Bree closed her legs tighter around him, craving the same connection. “Yes. Yes,” she whispered.
Renny pulled at the snap of her pants, heard the zipper slide down…
The doorbell rang.
They both froze like one of his sculptures. His hand was about to push past her panties and into that sweet waiting cove. Bree was near his ear, about to nibble until he touched her. Their breathing was erratic as they remained still in the hopes that whoever was at the door would turn away and leave.
“Bree?” The bell turned into a knock, which was followed by a familiar voice.
“Sam,” Bree whispered. “Sam’s here with my stuff.” She wiggled off Renny’s lap.
Renny stood slowly, adjusted his arousal in his pants and dragged a hand down his face. “I’ll go let him in while you get dressed.” His voice was pinched with the tension that surrounded them.
Bree looked at him and he stared at her before moving to the door. “We’ll finish this later,” he told her in no uncertain terms.
Bree shook her head. “No. We can’t.”
He’d reached the door by then and was about to pull it closed behind him. “We can and we will. Make no mistake about it.”
Then he was gone. Bree collapsed on the stool and cast a weary glance at the unfinished statue. “You guys are troublemakers.”
“Speak your mind, Desdune,” Renny said when he’d made himself comfortable on his favorite leather recliner. Sabrina had pulled her shirt on, then gone into the bathroom to shower, leaving Renny and Sam alone in the living room.
Sam watched the enigmatic playboy with barely restrained fury. “Look, I know your reputation and I can’t say that I’m all that thrilled with the fact that Bree has been assigned to you.”
“Then why’d you do it? You’re the boss. Why would you give your sister a job that could cost her her life?” Renny sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees. Sam Desdune looked like a fairly smart man. Actually, he and Sabrina looked a lot alike. She’d said they were twins and the resemblance was strong, from the skin tone to the color of their eyes. Yet Sam was taller, almost head to head with Renny. He had a good build and a strong handshake. Under any other circumstances, Renny figured he could probably like the guy.
“Bree’s an adult. I can’t tell her what to do any more than I imagine you can tell your sisters what to do.” Sam expelled a deep breath and sat back on the couch. “She’s really good, so you don’t have to worry about her letting you get hurt.”
“I can protect myself, Desdune. I’m worried about her.”
His words weren’t lost on Sam; he was worried about Bree, too. Not just because of the dangerous situation she was in, but because something had made her come back from North Carolina, and she’d come back a different woman. He was willing to bet that something was a man, but he refused to push her into telling him. In the meantime, he had no intention of letting this smooth talker take advantage of her. “Listen, Bennett, Bree can do her job better than most men I know in the business. So your concern about her is pointless. My concern, however, is not.”
Renny frowned. “And what’s your concern?”
“Like I said, I know about your reputation. Don’t even try it with my sister. Now, this is a big account for my company, but I won’t hesitate to do bodily harm if I think you’re messing with her.”
Considering the rumors about his personal life, Renny figured Sam had a right to take this stance. So he decided to set the record straight. “Don’t believe everything you hear, Desdune. My personal life, my real personal life, is my business, and I keep it that way. As far as your sister goes,” he shrugged, “you said yourself she’s a grown woman.” Renny didn’t miss the rise in Sam’s eyebrows or the fact that he was now sitting forward glaring at him.
He ignored it all. “What I do with what woman I choose is my business. But rest assured I’m not as careless as town gossip makes me out to be. Your sister is safe with me.”
Sam narrowed his eyes. They were face-to-face over the coffee table, man-to-man. He’d put his concerns out there and Bennett had addressed them unwaveringly. Sam had to admit the man wasn’t like what he’d heard; he wasn’t arrogant or stuck-up, for that matter. Renny being the only one of the Bennett brothers that he’d never had dealings with before, Sam had been concerned that the rumors were true. But this man had a look of integrity even though Sam still didn’t condone him putting any moves on Bree. “She’s here on business. The sooner we wrap this case up the better it’ll be for all of us.”
Sabrina made her entrance at that moment. She wore tan slacks and a white button-down shirt. She had her tennis shoes on again and she’d pulled her hair back into that insufferable ponytail. Still, his breath caught as her eyes made contact with his. He wanted her more now than he had when they were in the studio. For a moment he gave some thought to his track record with women and wondered if Desdune didn’t have a point. Sabrina was special, he’d be the first one to concede that point. But was she special enough to melt his heart, to be the one woman that made him want to settle down? He wasn’t totally sure and until he could be he probably should just leave her alone. Returning his gaze to Desdune, he grimaced. “You might be right, Desdune.”
“So you think this may have been a personal hit against Renny?” Bree asked as she lounged on the sofa beside Sam. “Why? I thought this was about the company merger.”
“I thought so, too. But I got to thinking last night. Why would they call Renny? He’s not even involved in the company. Getting rid of him would serve almost no purpose. The deal would undoubtedly go on.”
Chills had run up her spine at the thought of someone purposely trying to hurt Renny, but Bree didn’t want to address them at the moment. “What about the sister, Adriana?”
“Adriana is the older one, she’s the model. She has nothing to do with the business, either. Nor does Gabrielle. So the three of them stick closely together in this family, as the outcasts, I guess you could say.”
Bree frowned. “I know about being the outcast.”
Because they were close, only eight minutes apart in birth actually, and because he knew she had a lot on her mind, Sam put a hand on her knee. “Bree, you are a Desdune to the bone. We couldn’t cast you out if we tried.”
She smiled. “Whatever. Go on about the sisters.”
“Well, I checked into Bennett’s financial holdings and this new gallery he’s trying to open. Everything looks cool so I’m leaning more toward a possible relationship gone bad.”
That was the absolute last thing Bree wanted to think about—Renny and his women. Not after he’d had her about to strip and ride him hard and fast in his studio just an hour ago. He was back in that studio now, the door closed so she and Sam would have some privacy, but her thoughts kept wandering back to him. “Come on, Sam. What woman would kill a man because he left her?” Joanne Richmond came to mind. But she was willing to kill the woman who had slept with her husband, not the husband himself. Bree shook that thought right out of her head.
“Bree, you’d be surprised what a scorned woman would do. But really, I don’t have anything concrete to say that’s what’s going on. We’re meeting at the Bennett estate tomorrow night at seven, so make sure he’s there.
Rico, Alex and I are going to go over the list of Coastal board members today.”
“Don’t rule out Bennett board members and employees. With a merger this size people are bound to lose their jobs and that can set a twenty-year veteran of the company off. Who’s helping you with the investigation aspect?” Desdune Security really was only supposed to provide security services, but Bree knew this case was close to Sam. He and Rico had been friends for a really long time, so she knew Sam would do whatever he could for the man.
“You remember Trent Donovan? We worked that big case together out in Las Vegas, the one with the missing girl.”
Bree sat back against the pillows. Her thoughts had wandered again to the man just beyond that closed door and the sculpture he was working on. Then she heard Sam’s voice. “Ah, oh, yeah, I remember him. The girl’s father was a Navy SEAL. Donovan was a member of his team. Is he still on the team?”
“No. Donovan’s doing his own thing out on the West Coast, but he keeps his ear to the ground when things are happening with people he’s worked with. He’s really good at investigating and infiltrating. We’re talking about a partnership of some kind, you know, combining the security with private investigation. He’ll head up the West Coast offices and me the East Coast. This case is like a trial run of us working together.”
“That sounds good,” she said absently.
Sam looked at her closely. “Bree, you okay?”
She blinked, stared at him funny. “Yeah, why do you ask?”
“You seem a little preoccupied all of a sudden. Is it Bennett? Because if he’s hitting on you I can have someone take your place.”
“No!” she said just a little too quickly. “I mean, this is my assignment and I’m not going to let you take it from me just because you don’t think I can handle the playboy in there.” She hoped she rebounded well enough. There was something going on between her and Renny, and after this morning’s close call she wondered if it wouldn’t just be easier to act on it and get it out of the way.