He had to learn that he couldn't look at her like that, then not follow through with what those slaying glances implied.
But a funny thing had happened when she'd kissed him.
All of that anger and angst had sizzled away like water on a hot griddle the moment her lips had touched his.
Though she'd kissed him countless times, though she knew how he tasted, every nuance of his body language, every hair, freckle and mole on his glorious body, for reasons she couldn't comprehend, kissing Nash this time had felt completely different. More real, sharper, keener … better. In fact, it had felt like the first time, when it hadn't been. Not even the first time this weekend and yet… Zoe stilled, marveling over the notion, then abruptly shook herself and got back to the work at hand. She still had one more thing to search—the couple's briefcase. She'd found it stowed behind the AC return. She quickly picked the lock, then sifted through the papers stored inside. There were pictures of Oak Crest in every season, as well as detailed information about the lodge—square footage and all that. She also found two boxes of coarsely ground salt. Her brow furrowed. How peculiar. Why would they need to hide their salt? What would make them—
Nash poked his head into the room, startling her from her pondering. His face wilted with relief. "Zoe, you've got to get downstairs. People are asking for you." His gaze landed on the bird-watcher hats and his eyes widened, then he spied the open briefcase across her lap. "Christ, this is the Millers' room. Put that away," he hissed. "We've got to go—"
"Who are the Millers?" Zoe asked. Her radar was humming.
"A couple of regulars, according to George. They aren't part of the festivities. In fact, they just got here."
"I know," she told him. She stood and quickly stowed everything she'd discovered, making sure that the room was how she'd found it. "That's suspicious in and of itself. I'm not convinced that they have anything to do with the theft, but everyone is a suspect until we rule them out. And something doesn't feel right about the two. I found salt in their briefcase. I'm going to have Larson do a background check."
Nash scanned the hallway to make sure it was clear before they exited the room. She thought she saw his lips quiver. "Salt in their briefcase? Why is that suspicious?"
"Because that's no place to carry salt. It doesn't make any sense. We have to look at the bigger picture, Nash. You know that."
"Right," he replied. Humor danced in his blue eyes. "Did you find anything else?"
"I didn't find the missing jewels, if that's what you mean … but I did find something of interest." Zoe grinned. "Oh?"
They hesitated at the landing and she pulled the condoms from her pocket and spread them like a prized hand of poker for him to see. "Yeah. I found these."
Nash's eyes bugged. He peeked over the railing, then hurriedly snatched them from her fingers. "You stole—" He lowered his voice. Squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "You stole their condoms?" he asked in an incredulous whisper.
Zoe laughed at his outraged expression. "Trust me, they'll never notice. They have plenty."
"Jesus," Nash croaked, shoving the hot prophylactics into his front pocket. "You didn't take anything else, did you?"
"No." She slid him a sidelong glance. "Though I have to confess, I had a hard time putting the handcuffs and flogger away."
His eyes widened and his jaw dropped in astonishment. "Flogger? Hand—"
Chuckling under her breath, Zoe fisted her hands in his shirt and dragged him to her once more. She rubbed herself against him, licked a hot path up the side of his neck, nipped at his ear, then slid her tongue around the tender shell. A shiver quaked through him. "If you don't take me to bed tonight," she growled teasingly, "I'm going to borrow them, cuff you to the bed and spank you."
Zoe released him, then skipped down the steps, leaving him stunned on the landing. "Don't lose those," she called over her shoulder. "We're going to need them. Tonight."
* * *
9
« ^ »
Hours later, Lex stood in the shower and let the hot water pound some of the tension from his shoulders. What a damn nightmare, he thought tiredly. He rolled his shoulders, popped his neck. Keeping Faith out of trouble, tending to the day-to-day operations of the lodge and keeping his ever-weakening libido in check were taking their toll.
The To Catch a Thief kickoff had gone extremely well. But then, how else could it have gone with Trudy in charge? Honestly, the woman thought of everything, and a lesser person might have snapped under the strain of recent events, but Faith's assistant had handled things beautifully.
The players were happy with their accommodations, with the food and most especially with the game. The festivities had lasted for hours, and the only complaint that he'd heard had been that the night had come to an end too soon. It had ended with a dramatic flourish, with Zoe having two key suspects in mind.
Play would resume immediately following breakfast tomorrow morning and continue all day. Tomorrow night would end with a red herring and the true thief would be revealed Sunday morning—he hoped to God "Zoe" kept her gun holstered. Brunch and a book signing would follow.
When asked, Trudy had confessed she had no idea how they would handle the book signing if Faith's memory hadn't returned. Lex imagined she'd fabricate some sort of emergency and leave. The fans would be vastly disappointed, but Doc Givens had stressed that her memory needed to return of its own accord—that she needed to make the conscious decision to return on her own. Who knew what sort of response seeing those books would trigger? Trudy said she simply couldn't take the risk.
"Zoe" and "Melanie" were presently comparing notes, strategizing—hell, they were probably tossing everyone's car, Lex thought with a weary chuckle—and George, bless his old soul, had organized the cleanup and had insisted that Lex take a few moments to "get his shit together." He'd delivered that order with a disapproving scowl that let Lex know he'd gotten wind of the kiss.
But just what the hell did George expect him to do? Lex wondered, mildly annoyed at the implied censure. She'd kissed him. What was he supposed to do? Tell her not to?
Number one, he'd have to be dead not to respond.
Number two, he'd agreed to play this part and that meant kissing her when the need arose.
He wasn't inviting her advances, and she was simply acting in the way that the character she believed she was would behave. She was Zoe, he was Nash. They were lovers. Just exactly what was he supposed to do differently?
Lex sighed, braced his hands against the shower wall and hung his head. There was nothing he could do but play along.
And his initial misgivings were nothing compared to the ones he had now.
Lex hadn't wanted to participate in this farce because he'd been attracted to her. Because, regardless of what Doc said, it felt dishonest. He couldn't help but feel he was taking advantage.
But presently his misgivings were taking a more personal turn. He grimly suspected he'd fallen for Faith. There'd been something about her from the very beginning that had called to him, something that told him this woman in particular was special. He'd been instantly enchanted—and turned on—by that dry, self-deprecating smile of hers. That clever, humorous twinkle in those pale brown eyes.
Faith was every man's secret fantasy—she was a good girl with a wicked streak, a tantalizing, impossible-to-resist combination. She was the sort of woman a man could feel comfortable with, unburden his soul to, laugh with, weep with and love. In addition, she possessed a truckload of sex appeal, and a devilish, uninhibited glint in her eye that told a man she could, without the smallest hesitation, rock his world.
The mere idea sent a bolt of heat straight to his groin.
Which brought up another issue—tonight.
A short unexpected laugh burst from his throat. She'd stolen condoms from the Millers.
From the Millers … who'd been worried about their S&M stash being found.
His bran-eating bird watchers were into the S&M scene, Lex thought,
utterly astounded. A broken chuckle erupted from his throat. He shook his head, unable to make that compute, incapable of reconciling one image with the other, which, when you thought about it, he decided, was probably for the best. Who wanted to carry that picture around in their head, anyway?
At any rate, the fact that she'd taken a handful of their condoms, combined with her parting we'll-need-them-tonight comment, told him that he'd run out of excuses to avoid going to bed with her. He'd slept on the porch, he'd waited her out, he'd had George contrive emergencies. Lex had done everything, short of leaving, to avoid what would undoubtedly happen tonight.
And yet he couldn't recall ever dreading going to bed with a woman before.
Did he want her? More than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. His loins had been locked in a perpetual state of arousal since the first moment he'd laid eyes on her. Lust had been his constant companion. In his dreams, he'd made love to her in every imaginable position, some of which he suspected were anatomically impossible. He'd been on top of her, behind her, beneath her, beside her. But always with her—Faith.
But every other time he'd made love to a woman, that woman had known who he was. They'd alternately whispered and shouted his name. Tonight he would take Faith to bed, and God knows he would revel in every single minute of it, but he'd be making love to her … while she would be making love to Nash.
Every part of him rebelled at the idea.
He wanted her to want him.
To want to make love to him.
To say his name.
Lex blew out a breath and turned off the shower. And he might as well want the moon, because that would never happen.
When Faith finally got her memory back, she would not look upon him as the hero who'd saved her To Catch a Thief weekend. She would not believe that he'd had her best interests at heart, that he'd followed Doc's advice, Trudy's advice. Faith would feel betrayed, and she would ultimately despise him.
Which would make it doubly hard for him to make her love him.
From this moment on, Lex decided, every word he uttered to her that didn't pertain to playing this game would be the truth.
No more lies.
When her memory returned, she would have to look back and remember his sincerity in that regard, if nothing else.
He pushed the somber thoughts aside, wrapped a towel around his hips, then strolled to the dresser in the bedroom to retrieve a pair of underwear.
The back of his neck prickled.
"You won't be needing those," a sexy feminine voice said from the bed.
Lex squeezed his eyes shut, pulled a stuttering breath into his lungs, then slowly released it. Then he prayed for restraint, for any sort of divine intervention, because it would take an act of God to keep him from making love to her.
He turned around … and every bit of the saliva evaporated from his mouth. Faith wore a sheer black lace body suit that covered her from neck to toe, but clung to her form like a second skin. For all intents and purposes, she was nude … yet she wasn't. If he'd ever seen anything sexier in his life, he couldn't recall. It was scandalous, and only a woman with a perfect body could wear it, because any imperfection would have been impossible to hide.
But Faith was perfect.
Her breasts were high and round, her belly flat and trim, with virtually no waist to speak of. It was tiny, which accentuated the womanly swell of her hips, her firm thighs and toned legs. She'd painted her nails bright red, and the color contrasted sexily with the sheer black suit. The material shadowed her rosy nipples, shaded the thatch of light golden curls at the apex of her thighs.
He swallowed convulsively in a vain attempt to moisturize his mouth.
His gaze slowly drifted over her, before he finally let it settle on her face. Just the smallest hint of vulnerability clung to her come-hither smile, haunted those gorgeous melted-caramel eyes, and it was that little bit of weakness, of uncertainty, that he ultimately found irresistible.
No more lies, Lex reminded himself.
"You, uh… You look absolutely stunning," he finally managed to say. The compliment came out in a strangled croak, but the message seemed to please her because her soft mouth curved into a thankful smile.
Her gaze skimmed over his chest, down his abdomen, lingered on the front of his towel, then eventually back up again. Those gorgeous eyes had darkened with desire and twinkled with humor. "So do you." She rubbed a hand over the coverlet in front of her. "But you should probably join me over here. I'd like to do a closer inspection."
A short bark of laughter burst from his throat. A closer inspection? Her closer inspection would undoubtedly kill him. "Is that so?"
She nodded. "And you have my permission to conduct a similar examination on me."
The final nail in his coffin, Lex thought, as he slowly made his way over to the bed. She rolled onto her back, forcing her breasts against the see-through material, then cocked her head and gazed at him through lowered lashes. Lex slid a hand over her calf, up her thigh as he lay down beside her.
She purred at his touch, shivered, and he felt those wordless indications of pleasure hiss through his blood, settle in his loins.
He trailed a finger slowly over her belly, then, breathing unsteadily, brushed the underside other breast. Before his eyes, her nipple budded tightly, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to bend his head and suckle her.
A startled gasp escaped her. Then she sighed and arched, pushing the globe farther into his mouth. Lex felt her fingers slide into his hair, knead his scalp. He laved her nipple, then blew, then suckled again, this time deeply, flattening the rosy peak against the roof of his mouth.
Her belly deflated as another sharp inhalation sounded, then her hands were all over him, enflaming him. Soft and warm, they slid over his hip, up his side to his shoulder, back into his hair. Then she arched up, and her hot mouth tugged at his earlobe, then blazed a trail over his neck. She tugged him away from her breast and kissed him, wildly. Deeply. As though a fever had taken hold and the rest of the world had faded into insignificance. The hot seek and retreat, the desperate plunge of her tongue in and out of his mouth stoked a fire in his belly that swiftly raged into an inferno in his groin.
His dick jerked beneath the towel, grazing her hip. She whimpered, then shifted her own hips toward his, a silent plea for release. Sweet Mother of Jesus.
Lex let his hand wander slowly toward her sex. He drew lazy figure eights, doodled around her belly button, then slowly brushed the fabric over her curls.
She shivered once more, moaned and sank her teeth into her bottom lip.
He stroked her again, felt the moist fabric beneath his fingers, her feminine tears of desire. He wanted to taste those tears, wanted her to weep more for him. He kissed his way down her body. Licked a determined path from her neck to her breast, where he lost himself once more.
He suckled and stroked, because he wanted her mindless with need, blind to everything but him and the sweet music he played upon her body. Though he'd by no means grown bored, he worked his way farther down, swirled a path around her belly button, then farther still until he reached the feast awaiting him between her spread thighs.
Her rich womanly scent stole into his nostrils, sweet and musky. Mouthwatering.
He fastened his mouth upon her.
Faith gasped, bucked gently beneath him. Her thighs went rigid … then slowly fell farther apart, opening for him.
Lex smiled against her. "Mmm. You taste so good." He lapped at her, drew his tongue against the fabric, rubbing her in deliberate methodical strokes.
Her hands fisted in the sheets, her neck arched, and soft mewling sounds bubbled from her throat. "Oh, God… Oh, please…" Her head thrashed back and forth, and she tipped her hips toward his mouth, desperate for more as her body rushed headlong toward release. He could feel the tension building, could taste it on his lips. He spread her folds and latched on to her clit, sucked the tiny nub through the lace and rapidly wor
ked his tongue against her.
Her body suddenly bowed off the bed and she screamed as the orgasm broke over her. Lex licked her, once, twice, three times, milking her quivering flesh of every last ounce of the climax.
Faith's chest heaved with exertion. "That was— I don't—" Her gaze tangled with his and she smiled. "That was amazing," she breathed reverently.
Lex discarded his towel, then reached into the bedside drawer and fished out one of the rubbers Faith had lifted from the Millers. Tension had gathered in every muscle of his body, and it was all he could do to keep himself in check. The next time she came, he wanted to come with her. He couldn't wait to feel the greedy clench of her body wrapped around his rod. Couldn't wait to sink into her heat.
He tore into the package with his teeth, then withdrew the condom and swiftly rolled it into place. "Yeah … but it gets even better."
Then he reached down and undid the two snaps at the crotch that held her garment together, swept the fabric aside and positioned himself between her thighs. He drew back and—
A loud knock sounded at the door, followed by George's desperate voice. "Nash! Nash! Come quick!"
Lex swore hotly. Repeatedly. He gritted his teeth, and though it took every ounce of strength he possessed, he moved away from her. He shot Faith an apologetic look, then grabbed his mangled towel and fastened it around his hips. A flurry of movement behind him told him that Faith was trying to cover herself.
He opened the door a fraction. "What?" he snarled.
George's breathing was labored, his face white. "You've got to come quick. Pooh's back."
A stream of profanity flew from Lex's lips. Dammit. "I'll be there in a minute." He discarded the condom, then shoved his legs into his jeans and picked a T-shirt up from the floor.
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