Erogenous Zones: Monica's Secret (3 page)

He couldn’t know that, she was sure of it. He was just guessing—taking a chance, had to be. But the very fact he took that chance fired through her, making a deep, intimate connection. He really was flirting with her, right in front of a man who she knew to be his sometimes lover and it set her alight.

She shook her head, trying to do it with nonchalance. “I can’t keep them. But I can’t help admiring objects like that if they pass through my hands. Is that so wrong?”

“No, not at all.” He looked as if she had proven him right.

A shout came from above, and the lift jolted into action.

“Ah, the cavalry. Shame.” He made the comment under his breath and with regret, tucking the cuffs back into her pocket, patting them in an almost fond and intimate manner.

“You’ll have dinner with us tonight, and when you do you can tell us why it is you don’t like to be touched.”

“You really have no shame,” she murmured, deliciously shocked by his insistent attitude, despite the sure knowledge that she should resist the temptation of anyone getting that close to her secret.

What is wrong with me today?
It was his fault.

His eyebrows lifted. “Personally I can’t think of a single reason why you wouldn’t want to be touched. You’re the sort of woman who should be put on a pedestal, and adored.

Don’t you agree, Alec?”

Monica’s heart raced. He’d finally drawn in his cohort. She glanced at Alec. He leant back against the mirrored wall of the lift, smiling a Cheshire cat smile. The silent, watchful observer. The right hand man.
His secret lover.

“Absolutely, “he responded. “You should give it a try.”

“Give a try,” she repeated.

“Being put on a pedestal,” he clarified, and his gaze covered her, speculatively.

She remembered the image of the woman they had shared when she held his keys.

Her clothing felt tight and restrictive, her legs weak under her. The doors of the lift slid open, and there was a maintenance man in a boiler suit standing outside expectantly.

23

It was with some effort that Monica peeled herself away from the wall and stepped out into the corridor. With them both close behind her it was hard to be logical.
She paused and thanked the maintenance man, trying to get a hold of herself.
Jesus, I don’t even know what
floor we’re on.

“You’ll have dinner with us,” Owen repeated, and he was so close against her that she felt his breath against the side of her cheek. His hand hovered a hair’s breadth from her hip.

It seemed to lure her with its heat, with its promise of pleasure.

Glancing back at him, she saw from his expression that it was an instruction, not an invitation. His eyes glinted with wicked humour, as well as essential male power. “Off the clock, okay?”

Off the clock
? Monica didn’t know exactly what he meant by that, but she didn’t respond, because part of her loved that thrill—the thrill of not knowing. It was so rare, and so tempting.

24

It was already time to go down to the Byron Bar for the dinner date meet, but Monica was so strung out with nerves she couldn’t leave her office. She wanted to go, she just wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do. Reaching for the phone, she dialled her youngest sister, Faye.

“Hey Monica, you okay? You don’t usually call at this time of day.”

Monica gave a wry smile. All three Evans’ sisters were psychic, and it was something they didn’t share with anyone else. It also meant that they knew when they needed each other. “Just looking for some advice.”

“There’s a man, isn’t there?” Faye was delighted.

It was all right for her, she had a better handle on her psychic ability. Being the youngest, she had witnessed her older sisters dealing with their psychic ability and had easily shrugged off many of the issues they had endured. As the youngest, Faye had never been alone with her strange ability the way Monica had, but somehow that meant she was able to support them both when things got difficult. They had always been there for her, and Faye was the bubbly, light-hearted one of the three. Besides, it was easier for Faye because her psychic ability was attuned to ghosts and the afterlife. From an early age she was able to communicate with the spirits of those who had passed on. It was when they were staying with their Aunt Agatha in her Victorian terraced house in Eastbourne one summer that they found out about Faye’s gift. She kept chattering about what they thought was an imaginary friend, who actually transpired to be the ghost of one of the early inhabitants of the house.

“Yes, there is a man. Actually, there are two of them.”

Faye laughed softly. “You want to know which one you should go out with.”

“It’s not quite simple as that.” Monica tapped her fingers on the surface of her desk. “I can’t explain it now, I haven’t got much time. It’s more about, you know, my secret. I’m worried that it will come out.”

“You’ve let that put you off having a relationship for far too long. Take a risk, have some fun.” Faye paused. “You know which one you are going to choose, don’t you?” Again she chuckled. “Sounds like you’ve already made a decision to go out with him.”

25

Faye was right. Except for one thing, she was going out with
both
of them. Curiosity had got the better of her and she wanted to know more about their relationship. She could always leave, if it got to be too much. She could claim it was inappropriate to socialize with fellow employees, if she felt too uncomfortable. Her body flared again as the images and sensations she had experienced in their presence flashed through her mind. That alone was a huge turn on. Then there was the fact that Owen Clifford was the most demanding, compelling man she’d ever met. “Yes I have decided. I’m nervous, I guess.”

“Relax. Enjoy the date and let me know how it goes.”

Monica was about to hang up, but there was something else she had to know. “Oh, I tried ringing Holly and her phone is off. I got an old feeling about it.”

“Yes. Her phone is off because she’s in hospital.”

Monica sat bolt upright, her fingers clutching at the edge of the desk. “Is she okay?”

“Don’t fret, she’s fine. Her neighbour was involved in a car accident and she was first on the scene.”

“How awful. Is the neighbour okay?”

“Yes, he’s going to pull through but there was this one old thing…I wasn’t going to say anything about as you have a date, but apparently she looked after this guy until the ambulance arrived. She called earlier and said that since it happened she’s formed some sort of intense psychic link with him. Even while she was waiting in the corridor at the hospital, she could see and feel everything that was being done to him, you know, the tests and stuff.”

Monica frowned. “Crikey, how weird is that?”

“I know!” Faye responded. Their middle sister, Holly, was the least psychic of them all. She was able to make future predictions and picked up on moods quickly, but unlike them she never had a specific talent. This was news indeed.

“I’ll keep in touch with Holly,” Faye assured her. “You go and enjoy your date and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

The chat had brought Monica back to earth with a thud, and she stood up and readied for the meet. It was a hospitality thing that was all. She mustn’t read too much into it.

When she arrived at the Byron Bar, however, she saw Alec standing there on his own and with an expectant look on his face. She burned up with self-awareness. He had lost his tie and jacket and his shirt was open, giving her a look at his strong collarbone. There was a drink at his elbow and his eyes lit as she walked over to him.

26

He grasped her hand and drew it to his lips, kissing the back of it briefly. “Monica, what can I get you?”

That this was a date and not a work function was screamingly obvious. She pulled away quickly, but not quick enough—not before she felt hot lust pump from his skin to hers.

“I’ll have one of those.”

He signalled the bar man. “Another G & T over here, please.”

Jake, the barman, nodded at her as he reached for a glass. “Ms Evans.”

She was glad she’d kept her suit on. It made it clear she was working, at least to the other staff. Nodding at Jake, she mustered him a smile.

When she glanced at Alec, he was watching her with an appreciative look in his eyes.

“So,” she said, suddenly self-conscious under his close inspection, “how long have you been working for Mr Clifford.”

“He won’t be happy if you keep calling him Mister.”

She shrugged. “I was brought up well.”

He smiled. “I can tell.” He signed the bar tab before he continued. “I started working for Owen about two years ago. It soon grew into something far beyond a working relationship though.”

Monica blinked. Had he really just put that out there?

“Over the last year we’ve become…well, inseparable, I suppose you could say.”

Monica swayed, her legs growing weak under her. “Why are you telling me this?”

Alec watched her reactions closely. Everything about him was level and controlled.

He was so sure of himself. “Because you are going to dine with us, and we believe in putting our cards on the table.”

It was a characteristic she would normally admire, but the nature of what he had stated made her dizzy. The knowledge ran along her nerve endings, making her feel wired and edgy. She lifted her drink and sipped at it nervously.

Unfazed, Alec continued. “We discovered that we shared the same sexual interests, and we grew close.”

She gave a disbelieving laugh. “That must have been some discovery.”

“It was, and although we were attracted by each other’s lifestyle it didn’t come out for a while. It was quite tense there at the beginning.”

He paused, and she felt as if he was acknowledging her state of nerves.

27

She put her glass back on the bar. “I can imagine.”

“Once we discovered we were both bisexual, sharing our experiences with women proved to be the next logical—and fulfilling—step.”

Monica could scarcely breathe, let alone form a response. Instead, she stared at the bottles on the shelves at the back of the bar while she gathered her thoughts. Alec was intent on filling in the gaps to enlighten her. The fact that she was already aware of their relationship didn’t help.
And yet still I am here. I should leave now
. No doubt his words were made to put her at ease, but it actually meant it would be far harder for her to do a runner if she chose to, which made her all the more nervous.

“Why are you telling me this?” she managed to ask.

“Because you want to know.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You’re here, and you haven’t done a u-turn yet.” He grinned. His face was made for that grin. It made him even more attractive.

So, he’d taken a gamble in telling her. It felt like it was a test. She reached for her drink and this time she took a large swig and knocked it back.

“Come on,” he added, “let’s go upstairs.”

Monica practically choked on her drink. “Upstairs? Isn’t Mr Clifford joining us?”

“No, we’re joining him, in his suite.”

“I thought we were having dinner…”

“We are. He’s ordered a buffet.”

The hand he put under her elbow didn’t give her much option but to go with him, not without making a scene. It was the way they had taken over, redirecting the evening’s events, that shocked her most of all. His confession was blatant, but she’d been pre-warned on that score. The shift to a suite was unexpected. She’d thought they would be in a public place. More or less immediately they were going to be alone again, and as she stepped into the lift with him she recalled what it had been like, being alone with them, earlier.

There was another couple in the lift and she stared across at them, rather than look at her companion’s reflection.
What am I doing? I can’t touch these men.
Nevertheless the lure was too great to resist. The chance to toy with the opportunity, to flirt with them awhile, that was too tempting. Too rare.
I’ll step away, if it gets dangerous.

28

Alec held the door while the other couple got out, then lifted his hand and offered it to her. The gesture was compelling, and yet she knew she couldn’t accept it. It pushed her to move, nonetheless. Gathering herself she stepped out of the elevator, resisting the hand. Alec stepped alongside her, leading her to the other end of the corridor where Owen’s suite awaited. At the door, he paused and looked at her.

“Are you hungry?” His mouth moved in a sensuous smile.

It felt like a loaded question. The humour in his eyes got to her though, easing the tension she felt. She laughed, softly. “Let’s just say my appetite has been kindled, but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to eat any food.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgement, then reached over and opened the door.

The suite was familiar to her, and she clocked the details as a matter of routine. It was a classic theme with wood panelling, wine coloured carpet and brass highlights here and there. Rock music played through the sound system. It felt like a male arena.

Owen lazed in a chair by a table in the sitting room of the suite. What looked like buffet selection number three—one of the most interesting and delicious menus, all of which played on an aphrodisiac theme—was arranged on platters on the table nearby. That was laughable, none of them needed any help from aphrodisiacs, she was quite sure of that. The sexual energy off these two was zinging, and she felt permanently aroused around them
. So
what the hell am I doing here
? The risks quickly stacked up, but they toppled from her mind when she saw Owen because he looked so damn good.

He sat with one leg dangling casually over the arm of the chair, and it appeared that his hair was still wet from a shower. The business suit was gone and he wore faded jeans and an open necked black shirt. His feet were bare. That seemed rather incongruous, as if it suggested something much more primitive and wild than the luxurious surroundings he currently inhabited.

As she approached he lifted something from one of the platters on the table and ate, slowly, all the while eying her up as if he’d rather be eating her. He resembled an emperor at leisure, and she was the sacrifice being led in by his right hand man. That should have scared her, and it did—but only in a way that aroused her. How could that be? This situation should have her running for the door. Yet there was an undeniable lure about Owen and Alec, as if they were the perfect combination of cocktail ingredients to tempt her.

29

Owen stood, and pulled out a chair for her, right next to his. She sat, trying to do so as nonchalantly as possible.

“Thank you.” She wished her voice sounded more confident.

“My pleasure.” Pulling his chair even closer to hers once she was in it, he sat facing her with an expectant smile on his face. He waited for her to say something.

Again, it felt like she was being given some kind of test. “So, have you had any good ideas yet?”

His smile grew and he lifted an eyebrow.

“Promotional ideas, for increased profit margins, I mean,” she added quickly.

“One or two. But that’s not what we are here to talk about, is it?”

“I thought you invited me to have dinner with you in the restaurant.”

“I never mentioned the restaurant.”

He was enjoying this, which was maddening because she felt thoroughly disarmed.

They had a handle on this, she didn’t. In the background she noticed that Alec poured champagne into flutes.

“We wanted to get to know you better. This seemed more appropriate.”

The mischievous twinkle in his eyes made her wish she could be as easy in herself, as sure of what she wanted. But isn’t that what appealed to her about him? She’d never met a man quite so sure of himself, quite so controlled and sexually aware. It was something she envied and admired. The scent of his cologne wafted over to her. She looked at his collarbone, revealed as it was in his open-neck shirt. His skin would be warm from the shower. She wondered what it would be like to feel that, to run her fingers over his bare chest. That would be dangerous with a man as sexually provocative as him. The energy he might radiate if she touched him that way would be full of personal and sexual images from his life, and her momentary encounter with Alec’s keys made her even more cautious than she normally would be.

She accepted the flute of champagne and took a couple of sips, hoping it would steady her nerves.

“Tell us about Monica Evans.” Owen reached for a lobster tail, dipped it in dressing and tore at it with teeth. He chewed it slowly while he considered her.