She blinked and looked uncertain for a moment. Maybe his tone of voice had been a little too firm. Maybe he’d screwed up already.
Her damned cell phone chose that moment to give a mocking chirp. Lucy took it out and glanced at the screen.
He closed the car door very firmly and went into the lobby.
He booked the best room the desk clerk could offer and went back outside. He moved the car to the small parking lot. There was a potentially awkward moment when he took his overnight kit out of the rear of the car, but Lucy pretended not to see it. At least there were no sarcastic comments about him having come prepared to spend the night.
When she reached into the backseat for her huge purse, he could tell that it weighed a ton. It seemed to him that women always carried an incredible amount of stuff in their bags and purses, but this one appeared unduly heavy. He dared to hope that maybe Lucy, too, had come prepped for a stolen night away from Summer River. The possibility put a definite spring in his step.
To his relief, the room looked good. The large bathroom sparkled with polished tiles and glass. The towels were soft and thick. The bed was artistically made. When he looked at Lucy’s face, he thought she looked pleased.
“This is lovely,” she said.
Yes. She liked the room. He was already light-years ahead of the damned agency dates.
Satisfied, he dropped his kit on top of the chest of drawers. Lucy set her tote on the table. She took a much smaller bag out of the big bag and slung it over her shoulder. That answered one question, he thought. She didn’t actually haul the massive tote with her everywhere.
They went back downstairs and walked the short distance into the village. Lucy took obvious delight in the handful of small shops on the wharf, although, in his opinion, the array of seashell and driftwood souvenirs did not look like her kind of art. He did not pretend to be a connoisseur, but he thought the watercolors in the local gallery looked uninspired as well. Nevertheless, he dutifully accompanied Lucy around the wharf shops. He wanted her to enjoy the day.
When she paused to look in the window of yet another little shop, he sneaked a glance at his watch, wondering how early he could suggest drinks and dinner.
“Are you starting to feel like you’re in the middle of one of those television commercials for erectile-dysfunction medication?” Lucy asked. Her eyes glinted with laughter.
Startled, he felt himself turning red. He could not recall the last time he had blushed. “What?”
“You know, those ads that feature happy couples dashing through the rain, dancing in the kitchen, buying flowers at a roadside stand and driving through the countryside in a convertible with the top down. There’s always a pounding waterfall or suggestively surging surf thundering in the background.”
“Oh, those ads,” he said. He smiled slowly. “I don’t think I’ll be needing any of the meds they’re peddling.”
It was her turn to blush. She cleared her throat. “Well, just in case, we do happen to have a lot of surging surf in the vicinity.” She gestured in the general direction of the ocean.
He laughed. A few strollers on the sidewalk turned to look at him, smiling a little.
He kissed her lightly, getting a taste and letting her feel some of the heat that was firing his blood and his imagination. Then he followed her into the shop.
It was a good day, the best he’d had in a long time, maybe in forever—even if he did have to browse through souvenir shops and look at boring watercolors. Lucy had said yes.
29
What are we going to do?” Ashley said. “You’re the one who told me that the merger will fall apart if we don’t get control of those shares.”
“Calm down,” Cecil said. “I’ll take care of everything. That’s my job.” He smiled. “It’s why Colfax is paying me the big bucks and why he gave me the corner office, remember?”
He was not behind his desk in the executive suite of Colfax Inc. at the moment. Instead, he was standing at the window of a dilapidated single-story house deep in the woods. The faded sign in the front yard read For Sale, Kelly Realty.
The house had been on the market for more than six months. He had determined that much after a quick online search of the real estate listings in the area around Summer River. He could see why it hadn’t sold. It offered none of the amenities that people moving to wine country demanded. The house was a tear-down, which would not have mattered, had the property not broken the cardinal rule of real estate: Location, location, location. The location was lousy—a remote section of the county that was accessed by a badly neglected side road. The trees grew close around the place, shrouding it in perpetual gloom. There was no view, and the lot was small. There was not enough property for a vineyard.
All in all, it fit his requirements perfectly, Cecil thought. It made an ideal location for screwing the client’s wife. The only item of furniture left in the place was an ancient brass bed.
“The shares were not supposed to end up in Lucy Sheridan’s hands.” Ashley paced back and forth across the bare living room. “Warner told me that the last he knew, Mary planned to leave the shares to Quinn. At the time he was infuriated that she wasn’t going to leave them to him, but he assumed that he could control Quinn’s vote if it ever proved necessary to do so.”
Warner was wrong this time, Cecil thought. He turned away from the perpetual twilight of the woods.
“Obviously, at some point Mary changed her will,” he said patiently.
Ashley came to a halt. “So what are you going to do about it? Warner is sure to offer Lucy more for those shares than we can afford to give her. She’d be a fool not to sell to him.”
“Everyone has a price,” Cecil said, “but that price isn’t always a matter of dollars and cents.”
“What do you mean?”
“If Lucy Sheridan was simply after the highest price she could get, she would have made that clear up front. Instead, she’s holding out for something else.”
Ashley spread her hands. “What else is there?”
“I’m not one hundred percent positive, but I think she may want answers.”
“Answers to what?”
“I think she’s got some questions about her aunt’s death.”
“That’s ridiculous. Sara Sheridan and Mary Colfax died in a car accident. End of story.”
“It might have been easier for Lucy to believe that if she hadn’t discovered Brinker’s body in her aunt’s fireplace.”
Ashley turned her back to him, wrapped her arms beneath her breasts and stared out into the trees.
“According to the media, Sara Sheridan murdered Brinker thirteen years ago,” she said. “What can his death possibly have to do with those shares?”
“I don’t know.” Cecil moved to stand behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the side of her throat. “Stop worrying. I’ll figure out what is going on, and then I’ll deal with it.”
“You’d better deal with it quickly. The clock is ticking now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Warner is getting impatient. I’ve stalled as long as I can. We’ve been married for over eight months. According to the terms of that damn prenup, I won’t get a dime out of him if I’m not pregnant within a year of the wedding.”
“I know.”
“I’m not about to have his baby, so my only hope of getting my money is that merger. If Warner finds out that I’m using protection, he’ll file for divorce immediately.”
“Just give me a little more time.”
“Tell me you have a plan to deal with Lucy Sheridan.”
“I have a plan.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Ashley spun around. “It would be bad enough if Warner dumped me because he believed that I couldn’t get pregnant. If he found out that I have no intention of trying to
give him a spare heir—that I’m just hanging on because of the merger—I’m not sure what he might do. He’s got a temper.”
Cecil frowned. “Do you think he might become violent?”
“If he thinks I’ve betrayed him, yes,” Ashley said. She shivered. “Yes, I think he might become violent.”
Cecil tipped up her chin. “Don’t worry. I’m in this for the money, just like you and Quinn and Jillian. If the merger doesn’t happen, I don’t get my payday, either. Trust me, I’ve got all of our best interests at heart.”
“I know.” She sighed. “It’s just that sometimes I get scared.”
“I’ll take care of you.”
Ashley gave him a misty smile. “I know.”
He drew her down the hall and into the bedroom. It was such a rush to screw the client’s wife.
30
Lucy was braced for Mason to try to hurry her through dinner, but much to her amazement, he did no such thing. It was as if they were lovers who had been together long enough to be comfortable with what lay ahead, she decided. No rush. No pressure. But she had seen the masculine anticipation in his eyes all afternoon and sensed the heat of a low-burning fire inside him. Every time he touched her she was aware that he wanted her.
That afternoon, while he was inside the lodge, she had silenced the notification chirps on her phone. It was her way of making a commitment, she thought. Not a long-term commitment, just a commitment to the night. But it was a commitment of sorts.
She knew that he was impatient, marking time until they went back to the lodge. But now, after a slow meal of crab cakes and roasted sweet-potato fries, he seemed willing to linger indefinitely over coffee and the ice cream they had ordered for dessert.
It was as if now that he knew the end of the sensual game was in sight he was content to let her take her time before he took her to bed.
She wondered if he knew that he was not the only one balanced on the precarious cliff above the dark waters of desire. She was thrilled, but at the same time more nervous than she had expected. The truth was that, deep down, she was a little scared. She was not sure how to deal with the complex mix of emotions that he had stirred up inside her.
Feminine intuition was warning her that whatever happened between them tonight would change everything. He had been right when he’d remarked that she’d had one foot out the door throughout her engagement. She’d had one foot out the door in each of the handful of other serious relationships she’d been involved in as well.
But she had the feeling that tonight she was not taking a tentative step into a strange room to see if she wanted to stay or not. An entirely different metaphor was required. Tonight she would be jumping into an unknown sea without a life preserver.
The thought made her smile. Maybe there was something to all that thundering-water imagery in those erectile-dysfunction commercials. She could swim, but that did not mean she would escape unscathed when things ended. And in her experience, things always ended. Furthermore, they tended to do so sooner rather than later.
But for now she was determined to live in the moment. Sitting across from Mason at the candlelit table, she could see that he had made a similar decision. They were two adults going into the night with their eyes wide open. Tomorrow would take care of itself.
When the check arrived, she did not offer to bring out her credit card. Mason was trying to give the night to her as a gift. She had to respect that. Someday, if they stayed together long enough, she would give him something special, too.
He finally put his empty cup down on the saucer and looked at her.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
An unfamiliar sense of certainty settled into her. She wanted this night; she wanted it with all her heart.
“Yes,” she said.
They walked back along the wharf to the lodge and through the lobby. Lucy’s certainty did not waver, but she could not deny the tension building inside her. She had to be prepared to give the best performance of her usually insipid love life. In her admittedly limited experience, most men had no difficulty believing in a well-acted orgasm, but she had a feeling Mason might be able to detect a fake unless it was a very good replica.
He opened the door and waited for her to move past him into the darkness. She took one step inside the room and stopped. Crap. Maybe this was a really huge mistake.
“One foot out the door already?” Mason asked quietly. “Because if that’s the case, I’d rather you left now. I can get another room for you tonight.”
“No.” She spun around. “No, I don’t want to leave.”
He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, she saw the darkly glittering hunger in him.
“Good,” he said. His voice was rough and raw. “That’s good to know. Because for a moment there you scared the hell out of me. I thought you were going to make a run for it.”
“No,” she whispered. “I’m not running anywhere.”
He moved into the room, reached for her with one hand and used his other hand to close the door. She heard the click of the lock sliding home.
The room was steeped in shadows. The only illumination was the small nightlight that burned in the bathroom and a slender wedge of moonlight that slipped in at the edges of the curtains.
Reflexively, she tried to find the light switch on the wall, but she could not move because both of Mason’s arms were around her, trapping her.
His mouth came down on hers with all the urgency, all the pent-up anticipation that she had sensed in him that afternoon.
Be in the moment.
She could do this. In any event, she did not have time to dwell on the future, because Mason was already undressing her. She struggled with the buttons of his shirt, inhaling his scent as she worked. He smelled good, indescribably sexy and thrillingly male. A strange, light-headed euphoria infused her senses.
He tugged her sweater off over her head and unfastened the clasps of her bra.
His palms closed gently over her breasts. He drew the pads of his thumbs across her nipples. She was so sensitive now that the caress surprised a small, startled squeak out of her. She shuddered.
He stilled as if he had been shot.
“I hurt you,” he said.
“No, no, really, you didn’t.”
She went back to work on his shirt.
He touched her breasts again, slowly, carefully. She sighed and leaned into him. He kissed the curve of her throat.
“You smell so good,” he said.
His hands moved from her breasts down to her waist. He started to unfasten her jeans.
That was all it took to dampen her panties. She couldn’t believe it. They hadn’t even made it as far as the bed, but she was already soaking wet. It would have been embarrassing if she hadn’t been too hot to worry about it. Later, maybe.
She fought through the last of the buttons on his shirt. He shrugged out of it and then yanked off the black T-shirt. With a soft sigh of delight, she flattened her palms on his bare chest. He sucked in his breath. She felt the hard, contoured muscles beneath his warm skin grow even more taut.
He got the front of her jeans open and shoved them down over her hips. She stepped out of her shoes and then out of her pants, nearly losing her balance in the process. Mason wrapped one arm around her waist to steady her and moved his free hand between her legs. He cupped her, feeling her through the silky fabric of her panties.
“You’re ready for me.”
Masculine satisfaction and an edgy, reckless desire smoldered in the words. He slipped his hand inside her panties. She was flooding now.
She had never responded like this. She wanted to get closer, wanted to sink into him. Maybe the intense desire was the result of having gone for months without a serious relationship. But that didn’t explain things, either. She had never been thi
s worked up with any other man.
“What are you doing to me?” she whispered, a little dazed now.
“I want to know what works for you.” He found the swollen little nub at the top of her sex. “Because whatever works for you works for me.”
She thought about telling him that the only thing that really worked for her was a vibrator and she had not brought one with her. The last thing she had expected when she set out for Summer River was a torrid one-night stand.
Determined to give as good as she got—which was looking to be very good indeed—she moved a hand down to the front of his jeans. He was steel-hard and big. Very big. She rested her forehead on his broad shoulder and touched him through the fabric of the jeans, feeling the size and shape and heaviness of his arousal. He gave a low, harsh groan.
“Oh, my,” she said against his skin.
She squeezed gently.
“Probably not a good idea,” he said. His voice was hoarse and rough.
“Okay, I’ve got a better one,” she whispered.
She unfastened his belt with shaking fingers and lowered the zipper of his jeans. Reaching inside his briefs, she wrapped her fingers around him slowly, measuring and wondering, more than a little awed.
“Keep that up and I’ll come in your hand,” he said into her ear. “And while that would be nice, I’d much rather be inside you, deep inside you.”
She released him and moved her palms up the front of his chest. “That sounds like an interesting scenario.”
He gave a husky laugh, wrapped both hands around her waist and lifted her off her feet. He carried her the short distance to the bed and set her back down on her feet.
He hauled aside the quilt and top sheet, picked her up again and settled her lightly in the center of the bed. She realized she was still wearing not only her very damp panties but also her socks. Concluding that the socks did not add much to the sensual atmosphere, she hurriedly stripped them off and tossed them on the floor.