Cherry Adair - T-flac 03 (8 page)

What gives?"

"That's not a blush. It's a flush of annoyance." She tried to tug her hand away. He held fast. "And it must be obvious why I'm not wearing makeup. I just took a shower, and was planning to go to bed, before Ramon instructed me to come to you." She curled her fingers defensively in his hand.

"Honey, I have three brothers and a sister. Don't try and kid a kidder. You're crazy if you think I believe this act of yours for a second."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. But if you insist on chatting I'd like at least one of us to be dressed. Where are my clothes?"

"Bedroom."

Delanie stalked into the other room and threw open the mirrored doors. "How cozy," she muttered under her breath. His and hers, side by side. Not wasting time searching for underwear, she yanked a pair of jeans off a hanger, and snagged one of his T-shirts, because it was huge, off a shelf.

Staying behind the open closet door she pulled the denim up over her bare behind and the soft white shirt over her bare breasts. A cursory glance in the mirrored door showed her decently covered, the T-shirt hanging to her knees. She immediately felt better equipped to handle Dr. Kyle Wright and strolled back into the other room.

He was just where she'd left him. Unfortunately.

"Better?"

"Soon."

"You were a virgin in San Francisco," Kyle said conversationally.

Well! That had come out of nowhere. She forced a laugh. "How many virgins do you know who'd pick
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up a strange man in a bar?"

"Only you." He pushed away from the desk, tucking the towel more firmly around his hips as he stalked her. Close enough for her to see jade flecks in the paleness of his eyes. Eyes of a hunter with the target firmly in his sights.

"Touch me again and I'll break every finger in your hand, buster," she warned, feeling for the doorknob behind her as he stepped into her personal space. The door was still slightly ajar behind her. She wasn't foolish enough to run, even if there'd been a place to run to. But the temptation was there. Big time.

Delanie realized she was pinning her hopes on the Kyle she'd known for three days, four years ago. A man she'd believed to be decent, caring, honorable. Unfortunately, that memory was disintegrating before her eyes like wet tissue paper.

He smelled of soap and man. She tried to compensate by inhaling and holding her breath, which only made it worse. Closing her eyes for a second, she struggled to think calming thoughts, trying to center herself. There wasn't enough time in the universe to compensate for what she'd gone through in the past couple of months. Days. Hours. Minutes. Wetting her lips she looked at him again.

Kyle sighed, rubbed his hand across his jaw, and said tiredly and very softly, "Fine. Keep your secrets.

For now."

His gaze roamed her face. A murderous expression flickered across his face for a split second. Gently he turned her head one way and then the other, studying the marks their host had left on her cheeks.

"Montero did this to you?" he asked, deadly calm. She could only nod as his thumb gently traced the fingerprints left on her skin. His breath fanned her face and she could feel the heat of his body seep through the thin fabric of the T-shirt. Her eyes closed as he cupped her face, running a callused thumb backward and forward over her bruises.

"Ah, jungle girl. If wishes were horses—" His thumb moved to caress her bottom lip.

Delanie had difficulty swallowing, her tummy felt like a clenched fist.

"Hell with i—" He bit off the words as his mouth crushed down on hers with a hunger that seemed to explode out of nowhere. This was no soft, tender exploration. The feverish heat was instantaneous as his tongue played against her lips, teasing them open. As much as she would have liked to pretend that brute strength had compelled her acquiescence, she knew it would be a lie. She responded without conscious thought. Her hands lifted to bury themselves in his long, thick hair. To pull him closer.

She rose on tiptoes to better reach his mouth. The door snapped shut as his fall weight pressed her against it. One hand curled around her hip, the other moved inextricably up her rib cage. Delanie groaned low in her throat as his strong fingers closed over her breast, knowing he could detect the wild cadence of her heart. His hand felt hot and hard as his thumb made a sweep across her beaded nipple. She pressed against him from breast to knee.

It wasn't enough.

The taste of him flooded her senses with tactile memories. Of a hotel room, tangled sheets, room service trays forgotten, and three days out of time. She wanted those nights back with an intensity that shook her.

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"Kyle…" Delanie moaned, and his mouth left hers only to come down hot, wet, and open against the pulse throbbing at the base of her throat, just above the necklace. Her breathing grew more ragged, she bared her neck in supplication as he tasted her skin with his tongue.

Her eyes fluttered open as he held her hip, rubbing her in a slow sensuous glide against his erection. The damp towel around his hips had fallen unnoticed to the floor. Kyle pressed her between his hot arousal and the cold hard door at her back. His eyes, as green as the impenetrable jungle at night, searched the depths of her soul.

His head blocked out the light as he kissed her again, his voracious tongue dueling with hers, mating and then sliding away. Delanie moved restlessly between his hands. He spread her legs with his knee. She was desperate to feel the erotic scrape of rough hair against the tender skin on her inner thighs. She grabbed fists-full of his long hair, the tangled skeins cold and wet, his scalp hot. Blood pounded furiously in her lips. His tongue forced her to accept the rhythmic seduction. His hips teased a duplicate rhythm that drove her wild with need.

She made a small sound of protest. Of surrender. His lips and body pressed harder. Heat rose on her skin in waves. She wanted to bite him, drive
him
as wild as he drove her.

It had always been this way with them. Their lovemaking had had this intense, almost violent edge to it, as if neither could ever get close enough, as if they lived on the brink of a terrifying precipice and would tumble in an agonizing free-fall unless the other were there to stop their descent.

Oh God, it was so tempting to allow herself to be enticed, seduced, and distracted by him. Just for the moment. Just until she could forget for a few blessed seconds why she was here at all. He cupped her behind, pulling her in closer. Her muscles softened, flowing into his heat. Her fingers twisted into his incredible hair.

But she was no longer naive, and she wasn't ignorant about sex this time. This was dangerous ground.

Hurtling off this particular cliff would do more than break her heart. This time, it might kill her. Kyle's carnal lovemaking had almost made her forget.

Lauren.

A
dousing of ice water couldn't have cleared her mind any faster. Kyle Wright had a bad habit of making her irrational. Their magical days in San Francisco had been the only time she'd allowed herself the blessed freedom to be selfish. In the midst of a climax, she hadn't been able to think about her mom, or Lauren, or anyone else in the family. Only herself.

She couldn't afford the distraction now.

With a violent wrench she pulled her head away, using both hands to push at the rock-solid width of his chest. Delanie covered her face with both hands. "Damn it, I won't—"

He gently removed her hands from her face. "Wrong place, wrong time, wrong continent." The heat drained out of his eyes, leaving them once again cool and unreadable.

"Right! I'll stay because I don't have a choice, but if you so much as look at me the wrong way again, I'll—"

He smiled. A smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Shoot me with your pea shooter, Annie Oakley?"

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"Do a
Bobbitt
on you while you're sleeping," she shot back, stalking through the arch into the bedroom to yank the serape-type bedspread off the bed. On her way back, she snagged a pillow. He was still standing at the door when she dumped the bundle onto the sofa.

"Take the bed." He sounded as exhausted as she felt.

"This is fine. Don't let me keep you—" She scanned him derisively from top to toe. "—up."

She plopped down on the sofa, pulling the spread over her before giving the pillow a punch. She closed her eyes. By imagining the life she would have, once she had Lauren safely home with her, Delanie managed to keep her breathing slow and deep.

Another teaching job. Sweet, innocent little faces… She'd buy a small house… trees and grass…

civilized rows of flowers.

Knowing Kyle stood there watching her made her skin itch. She controlled the nervous urge to scratch.

Breathe
, she instructed herself.

In. Out.

In.

Lauren.

Out.

Lauren…

Lauren—

—Kyle.

God save him from stubborn females. Kyle waited until Delanie's faked slumber became real.

She looked small and defenseless curled there, one cheek cradled in her hand. Her skin appeared translucently pale, and smudges lay beneath the fan of her lashes. He shook his head and moved closer.

Even in the muted light her hair shone, thick and silky to the touch. For years he'd remembered its texture in his dreams.

Using just his fingertip, he moved the strand covering her nose, his index finger lingering on the softness of her cheek. He trailed his finger over her chin, down the silky warm skin of her neck, then lingered on the fragile pulse beating in the hollow of her throat. He knew how easy it would be to exert just the right amount of pressure to break her. Some in his line of work would consider her immediate termination mandatory. Montero and his new threat were far more important than a single, easily-disposed-of woman.

He removed his hand from her face and dressed. Opening the door quietly he padded down the hallway
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and through the dark house.

Instructed to give this guest immediate access to their boss, the guards stepped back as Kyle traversed the long hallways of the house.

Slipping through another set of double doors, Kyle snapped on the bedside light and waited. He wanted his business partner's full attention. He got it as, blinking in the light, Montero reared up in bed, his face puffy with sleep.

"Kyle?
Qué pasa
?" Beside him his companion, a lump under the covers, groaned and rolled over.

"Do you want your present back?" Kyle kept his tone affable as he strolled toward the four-poster bed, his hands in his pockets.

"What… ? Oh, the girl? No, no." Montero raked back his hair, obviously trying to figure out what the hell Kyle was doing in his rooms. "She was your gift, my friend."

"Yes. That was the impression you gave me." Kyle withdrew his hand from his pocket and poured the microsurveillance bugs in his fist onto Montero's naked chest. He'd removed the rest the moment Delanie's clothing had been delivered to his suite this evening after dinner.

"I won't have an audience while I'm having sex," he said coldly. "If I find any more of these, I'll take my toys and go home. Either you trust me or you don't."

"Trust you?" Montero glanced about nervously. "But of course! I… I trust you with my life." Kyle saw the telltale movement of Montero's leg under the covers as he tried, subtly, to nudge his companion awake.

Kyle turned to go. When he was almost at the door, he paused to give Montero a hard stare over his shoulder. "And Ramon, old friend, old pal. I insist my playmates be unmarked,
comprende
? I won't tolerate anyone, other than myself, disciplining my property. Don't touch her while I have her. If you do,"

he said gently, "I'll have to kill you."

The open French doors leading out to the pool flooded the dining room with squares of buttery early morning light. Delanie, gorgeously overdone in a bright pink sundress and carrying a wide-brimmed straw hat, became an exquisite work of art framed by sunlight.

She owned the room in that moment, oblivious to the presence of strangers, enemies, or thick undercurrents. The rest of Montero's nasty little group had arrived early this morning. She didn't so much as acknowledge them as she strolled to an empty seat at the table.

Delanie's all-male audience, however, focused on honey hair sexily tussled, succulent fuchsia lips, and sultry bedroom eyes. All conversation came to an abrupt halt.

Which was another damn good reason to get her the hell out of here, Kyle thought. The conversation had just been getting interesting. Montero took great pride in his charitable pursuits and had casually announced his appointment to the board of directors of a well-known international children's foundation.

With the man's interesting methods of recruiting, Kyle knew those same kids could end up as part of his network of dealers and suppliers, not to mention customers.

Their host scrutinized Delanie speculatively as she sashayed into the room. Despite her war paint, she
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gave the appearance of a woman who'd spent half the night indulging in sexual gymnastics. Only Kyle knew how she'd tossed and turned in restless slumber until he'd scooped her off the sofa and tucked her into bed beside him. Rather than a night of wild sex, she'd slept deeply, cradled in his arms. When he'd left her this morning, she'd been curled in his bed in a sweet-smelling little dream ball.

Thank God in a couple of hours she wouldn't be here to distract him. The fragrance of soap and strawberry-scented shampoo followed in her wake as she strolled behind his chair to an empty seat.

What was going on in that clever little brain of hers? The glance she gave the assembled guests was only vaguely curious. Whatever her agenda, obviously she considered it far more important than anything going on here. Or what he could easily have done to her last night. With their host's blessings. The woman knew how to play chess.