Going Down (4 page)

“I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you. Look, there's some insect repellant in my pack. You can use it while we set up for the next scene.”

Good old Sammy, ever the professional. But maybe the rumors about his being gay were right and that's why he could play with women all day and not get a hard-on.

Deliberately not looking to where she'd seen shadow man, Saree slipped her terry cloth robe over her shoulders and grabbed a bottle of water. Several long swallows later, she began to feel like herself again.

“I'll be back in a minute,” she said. “Someone I want to talk to.”

“Huh?”

Saree pointed for Carole's benefit. “Looks like I have an admirer.”

“Fuck. I didn't see him. What the hell is he doing here?”

“That's what I'm about to find out.”

“Just don't forget to scream if he tries something.”

Behind her laughter, Saree acknowledged a sliver of concern. She couldn't imagine the man grabbing her, but hadn't her chat sessions taught her that caution was the number one consideration? Yes, and yet something about him was pulling her in his direction. Sure, she should have closed her robe in front and cinched up the belt, but one thing about the way she earned her keep, modesty didn't mean the same to her as it did to most women.

Besides, she wanted to see if she could push a few buttons.

It didn't take long to reach him, but once there she couldn't think of anything to say. Maybe it was just her being barefoot while he had on brand-new hiking boots, but he seemed damn big while she, hell, when was the last time she'd felt this small and slight? Up close, it was easy to see that his slacks and shirt were custom made. Even his boots were top class. Okay, at least he wasn't some homeless drunk camped out in the boondocks.

“You want to know how I reacted to watching you come, don't you,” he said after a too-long silence. “It was quite interesting.”

“Interesting? I don't think I've ever heard it described quite that way.”

“Maybe my reaction's unique.”

His voice wasn't any deeper than most men's. That being the case, why did it feel as if it was worming its way beneath her skin? About to chalk it up to her just-climaxed state, she amended. It was his eyes, no question about it. So dark brown that there was some ebony in there, they carried an unsettling intensity. Unsettling and exciting. “Do you know what we're doing?” she asked.

“Oh yes. This is a Dungeon production. And you're Sass.”

Rocking back on her heels, she wondered if she should have stopped when there was still more distance between them.

“You should feel honored that you're so well known.”

“I am.”
I guess.
“We, ah, we don't usually have an audience.”

When he nodded, a small grin slid over his mouth—his strong, straight mouth. “Did it make a difference? Knowing I was watching made it harder for you to come?”

More like his presence made her come harder. “When I'm working, not much gets between me and giving members their money's worth.”

“Working? That's not what most people would call what just happened.”

“If you know my name then you know how I make my living.”

“Point taken.” His gaze had remained on her face. Now they slid over her terry-clad body with her close-to-fully-exposed breasts and cunt and settled on her bare feet. “How long before the next scene?”

“Not long, but then they can't start without me.”

Another of his half grins softened his strong-boned features. “You're well named, Sass. You don't back down from anyone or anything, do you?”

“Not if I can help it. There were a couple of bullies when I was in high school who—you don't need to know that and I'm not interested in dredging up the past. Getting to the point, I'm a lot more interested in determining whether coincidence and coincidence alone is responsible for your being here at the same time we are.”

“I wondered when you'd get to that. Let me start to introduce myself. Perhaps you remember some recent online correspondence with someone named Reeve.”

“You're Reeve?”

“You do remember then.”

“Yes,” she breathed. This was surreal, and disconcerting.

Before Reeve could elaborate, if that's what he intended, Sammy hollered that he was nearly ready to get going again. And despite what she'd said about nothing happening without her, time was money. “I have to go. Ah, about getting to Bubba through me so you can recover the bet you lost on that match he blew, I'm afraid we broke up.”

“It's all right.” Reeve ran his long, strong fingers into his back pockets. “I'm not hurting for money. For the record, that's how I knew where you'd be today—a little greasing of the palms.”

“You—”

“I bribed someone at The Dungeon.”

“Why?”

He didn't immediately answer, and she had to be wrong, but she had the strangest feeling that he didn't want to say anything at all. “Sass, I developed a highly successful electronics enterprise.” Extracting a hand from his back pocket, he handed her a gold-embossed business card. “I'm wealthy, which makes it possible to accomplish things most people are unable to. I indulge my appetites, and right now I want the two of us to share a meal.”

“That's it? You want to take me out to dinner?” She'd study the card later.

“Not out. I have a boat, an overpriced and shiny craft docked at Marina del Rey. Do you know where that is?”

Marina del Rey was one of the Los Angeles area's wealthiest communities. “Yes.”

“The boat has an extensive galley, and I'm a great cook. That's my offer—lobster and asparagus on the bay while the sun's setting. Friday night. No strings attached.”

No strings attached. Could she believe him?
“Lobster?”

“And the wine of your choice. I believe you'll find something you like in my collection. What do you say, Sass? Ready for an evening of superb food and incredible views?”

“That's all?”

He didn't answer.

“I
'm impressed. Very impressed.” Trying not to gape, Saree took in the boat's exterior as Reeve gave her a hand onboard. Although she knew next to nothing about anything that managed to float, she knew mahogany when she saw it. She supposed the sleek, dark red wood lavishly used as trim made sense because it was hard enough to withstand what the sea threw at it, but it struck her as over the top when it came to opulence. She would have given the craft her full and measured attention if not for the fingers still wrapped around hers.

Not sure how to extricate her hand from his, she took care not to stand too close to him. His clothing was artfully casual, expensive without making a big deal of the fact that they hadn't come off a department store rack, and although the crisp slacks and nearly new blue shirt enhanced his toned late-thirties body, she was struck by an unsettling thought. He wasn't entirely comfortable in them, as witnessed by his slightly stiff stance. Ego building as it was to conclude that he'd dressed up for her, the explanation didn't entirely fit. A man with this kind of wealth didn't need to impress people.

“Let me take a look at you,” he said. Still holding her hand, he stepped back. Then, treating her as if she were his dance partner, he spun her first to the left and then the right. As he did, she patted herself on the back for having selected low sandals with rubberized soles. After more vacillating than she cared to think about and certainly wouldn't admit, she'd chosen white shorts that came nearly to her knees and a loose-fitting yellow blouse that didn't show much cleavage. The wind was doing its best to mold the fabric to her body, but she hoped he wouldn't think she was coming on to him. A wealthy man like him must have women throw themselves after him all the time. No matter what came of this evening, she was determined he not think of her as a gold digger, because she wasn't. She had all the money she needed.

“Well,” she said once she was facing him again. “Did I pass muster?”

“Indeed you did.” He glanced pointedly at their intertwined fingers. “Hair caught in whatever it's caught in so the wind can't make a mess of things. No heels. You'd be surprised how many women don't think about the damage those stupid things can do to a boat.”

When are you going to release me? If this is a game—
“Confession. I wasn't thinking about your boat. I just didn't want to fall on my ass.”

“Does that happen much at work?” Another glance at their hands sent the slightest shiver down her spine. “Maybe it's an occupational hazard.”

“I've gotten pretty good at making sure it doesn't. I hope you don't mind, but I'd just as soon not talk about work tonight. And—” She gave an experimental tug only to discover he wasn't about to give up his claim that easily.

“And what?”

“And I want to make it clear that I'm here for the food, nothing else.”

“Are you sure?”

On the verge of telling him she didn't play games, she clamped down on the words because at that very moment he was lifting her hand to his mouth and planting a feathery kiss on the tips of her fingers. Another shiver ran down her spine, this one all electricity.
Careful.

“Yes,” she finally thought to say, but maybe only because he'd finally released her. “I'm not interested in a one-night stand. Also, I don't need anything from you so I'm not going to throw myself at you.”

His gaze had had a wary, almost cynical look as if he was waiting for her to do exactly that, but with her comment, she sensed him relaxing. She also caught a hint of surprise. “I appreciate your honesty,” he said. “It's not something I get every day.”

“I imagine you don't.” She was suddenly sorry for this man whose wealth made him suspect everyone's motives. “Maybe you haven't thought of this, but honesty tends to be in short supply in my line of work. For example, the men we both
met
in the chat room, I'd be surprised if anything any of them said about themselves was the truth.”

Smiling a smile that did something to the pit of her stomach, he pointed, drawing her attention to a trio of seagulls flying overhead. “I thought you didn't want to talk shop. May I suggest a safe topic—seagulls. Actually it's more of a warning. They don't much care where they let it drop, if you know what I mean.”

Returning his smile, she made a show of spreading her hands over her head. “I'm a Southern California girl, I know seagulls. How do you suggest we protect ourselves from unwanted deposits?”

“By going below deck while I fix dinner.”

Below deck. Alone with him.
“You need any help? I was going to bring some wine as my contribution, but I didn't know what kind you like.”

He took a step toward the stairs leading down. “I have more than enough wine for tonight. In fact, I'm going to suggest a light chardonnay I like with fish. I hope you'll agree.”

Not sure of the proper protocol for such things, she held back until she was certain he intended to take the stairs first. When he disappeared, for no more than a second she fought the urge to abandon ship. She hadn't had a date in so long that she wasn't sure how people did that anymore, and yet more than uncertainty was at play. Although the marina was filled with impressive boats or ships or watercrafts or whatever they were called, as far as she'd been able to determine, only one other had anyone on it, a couple of elderly men who looked as if they'd recently returned from a day of fishing and drinking. The extensive marina was like being in an abandoned building—abandoned that is except for a man who outweighed her by many pounds and was in prime physical condition.

“Are you coming?” he asked. “I'll take you for the grand tour later, ideally after the gulls have gone to bed.”

Hey, sis, guess where I am tonight? Sorry I didn't tell you; I'm now thinking maybe I should have. Anyway, if you get this message, don't hang up. I might want to get back in touch with you.

Calling on the technique that had gotten her through countless bondage scenes, she mentally slipped into her
nothing
place. That done, she planted her sandal on the top stair and started down. It was shadowy below the water level, not totally unlit but far from bright. Fortunately before she could do more than frown, he flipped a switch, illuminating a bead of light that ran around the ceiling of the small but well-equipped kitchen.

“It goes without saying that this is a one-person galley.” He demonstrated by extending his arms and nearly touching the opposite walls.

“Galley,” she muttered, not bothering to take her eyes off his chest and arms. “I'm going to have to remember that.”

“You're a landlubber? Not much chance I can sign you on as a crew member then? Darn, I'm in need of someone to swab the deck.”

“I'd make a lousy swabbie.” She held up her hands so he could see her artificial nails. “Gotta protect these suckers.”

“You have to wear them?”

What did he think of them and of the other enhancements such as breast enlargement that she considered essential to job security? And if he said he considered them a waste of time and money, would she defend her stance or agree with him? Shaking off questions she had no answers to, she made a show of hiding her hands behind her. “Look at it this way. They get me out of doing a lot of manual labor. Hmm. Something smells fantastic.”

“Fresh garlic sautéed in drawn butter.”

Her mouth watering, she stepped into the galley, careful not to infringe on his space. The garlic was barely simmering, the aroma making her stomach growl. “You really can cook, can't you?”

“One of my many skills.”

“I think I love you.” Surprised by what had just come out of her mouth, she shook her head. “Anything I can do to help?”

“How are you at uncorking a bottle of wine?”

“One of
my
many skills.”

His laughter helped her relax, and when he handed her a high-tech corkscrew, she backed up to give him full access to his work area. A high counter complete with a couple of stools was positioned just beyond the galley, and after pouring two glasses of a light, semisweet wine, she perched on one of the stools so she could watch him work. He'd already made a salad that appeared to be equal parts vegetables and fruit and screamed
healthy.
Much as she hated seeing him drop a couple of live lobsters into boiling water, she forced herself to come face to face with the reality of their meal.

While the lobsters were cooking, he dropped some angel-hair pasta into another pot of boiling water, and when the pasta was tender, he drained it and tossed it with the garlic mixture. Their conversation was light and unremarkable: the weather, whether work on the nearest freeway exit ramp was ever going to be finished, how the city's professional baseball team was doing.

“You know,” he said as she replenished their wineglasses, “it's much too beautiful an evening to spend it inside. What say I put up an umbrella to protect us from bird droppings and we eat up top.”

Relaxed by the wine, she nodded agreement. In less than five minutes, they were seated opposite each other at a small linen-covered table watching the sun set. Placing the first bite of lobster on her tongue, she closed her eyes and sighed. “It doesn't get any better than this. Of all the things I could be doing tonight, this is at the top of the list. In fact, it's the only thing on my list.”

“Because of the view, the food, or the company?”

“Let me get back to you on that.” She opened her eyes. The sunset was turning Reeve's features a dusky rose. Beneath the warm glow was a darkness she attributed to the approaching night. She knew nothing about this man except that her body wanted his. Everything, even this expensive craft, might be a lie, but she didn't see how that was possible. Sipping, she acknowledged that she'd slipped into a mental and emotional space she seldom experienced. She was relaxed and comfortable in his presence. Sexual awareness was part of the component of course, giving rise to the question of whether they'd have sex before the evening was over, but she didn't want to just drink his booze and eat his food and jump his bones. She also wanted to get to know him.

“You really aren't married?” she perhaps unwisely started with. “I'd think some woman would have figured out you're a pretty good catch.”

Holding a fork full of salad near his lips, he studied her. “I could say the same of you. You're a beautiful and, I suspect, a financially secure woman. Why aren't you married?”

“No reason to, yet. No need to rush, yet.”
And no one I've found that I'd want to spend my life with, yet.

“Your reasons are the same as mine, Saree. In addition, I see marriage as the ultimate compromise. I had to do enough of that in order to make my business work; although I've sold it and retired, I want to remain in control of my personal life.”

“It sounds as if you don't have a very high opinion of marriage.”

Darkness bled into his eyes; something shut down inside him. “Marriage can be hell, and worse, if the wrong people are involved.”

What are you talking about?
“It's not like that for everyone; it wasn't for my parents, and my sister has found someone special.”

Reeve had been dividing his attention between her and his meal, but now he stopped and stared at her. If anything, his eyes absorbed even more of a midnight hue so that he looked older, and strangely vulnerable.

“What? Don't you believe me?”

“I didn't say anything,” he muttered after a telling silence. “There was something in your voice, a wistfulness, sorrow. Are your parents dead?”

It was nearly dark now with night being held back by the marina lights, the day coming to an end, and the promise of sleep's forgetfulness ahead of her. She'd come to terms with her parents' death in the years since they'd been taken from her and her sister. Surely he was mistaken about her tone, or was he? And maybe he was keeping the focus on her and off himself.

Putting down her wineglass, she studied the man who in truth was a stranger. Being around virile men had long triggered a predictable response in her. Not only did her nipples harden, but her senses became more alert, and her pussy heated and softened. Those things had already happened, and every time he spoke, her nerve endings responded, but at the moment she couldn't say what she was or wasn't feeling beyond the tightness in her chest and her questions about him.

“We had an incredible family,” she heard herself admit. “There's my older sister Hayley and myself. We were raised by the most loving, committed parents any children could ever want. Our parents were not strict but firm in their beliefs. Neither Hayley nor I ever questioned whether we were loved or what the family standards were. Mom and Dad let us know that our looks—Hayley's a beautiful woman—weren't what was important. Formal education was vital of course, but more than that, we were expected to make the most of our brain cells. ‘Be curious'—that's what they always said. ‘Be curious and look for the answers.'”