L.A. Confidential (9 page)

She swallowed, trying to gain control of her senses. No use. She was hyper-aware, and Ken had become the center of her world.

Next to her, he shifted, and her leg grazed his khakis from hip to knee. Though not blatantly erotic, she'd never been more aware of a simple caress, never so in tune with the movements of her body.

Part of it was because it had been so long since she'd been with a man. She'd avoided dating after Tyrell, telling herself she was content to throw herself into trying to salvage her career. So now the sensations…the way her body warmed and tingled…both enticed and thrilled.

But it was more than just the touch of a man. It was the touch of
this
man. Ken. The man she'd wanted so desperately all those years ago.

She hadn't dated in part because of her career, but in moments of honesty she had to admit that she held back partly because she knew she'd never meet another Ken. How could she? She'd had him…and she'd walked away.

And now…now the thrill of having him sang through her veins. She'd wanted his touch—no matter what the price—and so she'd agreed to his condition.

But something was different. She'd agreed to his proposition not just because she needed help, but because
she knew Ken. He was safe. But this man—this Ken—wasn't safe. He was dangerous. And Lisa wasn't sure she knew him at all.

Earlier, when she'd tried on the dress, she'd imagined his hands on her, but she hadn't fully imagined his
presence.
Sometime in the past five years, Ken had become more than just a man—he'd become purely male, so male she could practically smell the testosterone, and damn if she didn't want to drown in it.

The wheel creaked as they moved backward, and she started. He moved his arm from the seat to her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“You okay?”

“I'm fine. I just haven't been in one of these things in a while.” The wheel lurched, and she squealed, then flashed him a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

The corner of his mouth curved up but, to his credit, he didn't tease her, at least not out loud.

They made half the circle, and ended up at the very top, the ocean spread out behind them, and the lights of Los Angeles in front.

He took his arm from around her shoulder, then stroked her cheek with the side of his hand. “Beautiful view.”

“It is,” she agreed. When she turned to him, his grin widened, and she realized he wasn't talking about the view at all. “Oh. Thank you. I wasn't sure you'd want to pay me a compliment, all things considered.”

“It's not a compliment. I'm just stating a fact. No matter what happened between us five years ago, you are beautiful.”

She turned, ostensibly to look in the opposite direction, but really because she didn't want him to see that
her eyes had filled with tears. She'd wanted sweet words, and instead she got a backhanded compliment mixed with a subtle jibe.

Not that she should care. If she could make peace with Ken, great. But that wasn't her priority; it wasn't why she was here. She needed to get over this moodiness and to keep her eye on the ball. She had no excuse,
none,
not even PMS. And that made the fact that he turned her blood to fire all the more frustrating.

She sat up straighter, determined to regain at least a little bit of the upper hand. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her palms over her skirt. “You never did answer my question, you know.”

“Didn't I? That was rude of me.”

She cocked her head to get a better look, to see if he was teasing. He was, of course.

“What question?” he asked.

“About the pier. About why we're here.”

“Right.” His smile deepened, and she found herself staring at the dimple in his left cheek. “We were discussing whether or not the pier would make an appropriate location for Winston's movie.”

The Ferris wheel lurched, beginning its slow journey around. She gripped the side of the seat, but Ken reached over and closed his hand over hers, loosening her fingers until they were twined with his.

“You think it's too sweet a location.” He let go of her hand and rested his palm lightly on her bare thigh. He leaned closer and she felt the tickle of his hair on her forehead. “I consider it my personal responsibility to the film industry to convince you otherwise.”

“Ken…” She squirmed, sure she knew what was com
ing and scared to death of it. Scared, because she wanted it.

“Shh-hhh…”

He traced his fingertip from her knee up to the hem of her skirt, leaving a trail of heat that pooled between her thighs. With his palm cupping her leg, he stroked the soft flesh inside her thigh with the pad of his thumb.

The gesture was casual, but the effect on her was anything but. Stifling a moan, she fought her body's urge to spread her legs in silent invitation. She wanted him, Lord, how she wanted his hands all over her. But this was his game, and she wasn't admitting defeat that easily—at least, not if her self-control held out. A possibility that, right now, seemed slim at best.

His grazed his thumb up under her skirt, and Lisa's control slipped further away. Though barely beneath the hemline, the movement was erotic in its boldness. “Open your legs for me.” His voice teased her senses, setting the tiny hairs on the back of her neck to stand up.

“I…”

“Don't even think about arguing, sweetheart.” The words were whispered and soft, but there was no mistaking the edge to his voice, and Lisa shivered, wondering what she'd gotten herself into.

Part of her wanted to hold out, to make him beg for her, but something in his voice counseled against it. And besides, she needed this,
wanted
it, and with a moan that started deep in her throat, she shifted in the seat. She spread her legs just slightly, enough to feel the cool air against the heat of her skin, enough to be a clear invitation.

“That's my girl.” His voice, rough with need, seemed
to fill her senses, making her head spin even as the Ferris wheel sent them up toward the stars. She wanted to follow. Wanted to lose herself in the stars with him.

Her hand closed on the side of the bucket, her fingers tight against the cool metal as she strained against the desire that was filling her. His fingers stroked and played along her skin, his heat filling her as he explored higher and higher.

When his fingertip dipped under the elastic band at the leg of her panties, she groaned and stiffened, terrified of losing herself to the sensations raging through her, and just as terrified not to.

“Tell me you're mine for the night. For anything and everything.” His fingers explored her body even as his words wreaked havoc with her head.

“I—”

“Just say it.”

“I'm yours.” She exhaled, terrified of giving in so easily to this man who was and wasn't Ken. And yet she had no choice. She needed him and she wanted him. And it didn't get any simpler than that.

“Good girl.” His lips brushed the top of her ear. “Just relax.”

“Easy for you to say,” she murmured, tilting her head back to look at the stars as their bucket once again topped the wheel.

His low chuckle seemed to vibrate through him, and she realized she wanted his laughter almost as much as she wanted his touch. She was losing herself and it terrified her, but not enough to beg him to stop, not enough to make it end. She hadn't been with a man in years, and the pleasure of melting under his touch was too delightful—too forbidden—to turn away from.

Wanting more, she stroked her hand up his leg, thrilled when she reached the telltale bulge that told her he was just as turned on as she was.

“No, you don't.” His fingers closed over hers, and he gently moved her hand away, ignoring her murmurs of protest. “This isn't about me.”

“Isn't it?” she whispered.

He laughed, soft and low, and the sound made her weak. “Maybe a bit, but we're concentrating on you right now.”

The Ferris wheel halted, leaving them suspended two buckets above the ground, the ride was about to end even though the ride she really wanted had barely even begun. Through a haze of need, she turned to look at him and saw longing in his eyes. Passion, and something unrecognizable. A heat, but not the heat of desire. “Ken, please.” Her voice was raspy, unrecognizable. “What do you want?”

His warm palm cupped her face, and she turned to rest her cheek in his hand, her eyes never leaving his. “Isn't it obvious?” he asked, his voice just as rough as hers. “I want you. I want you wanting me.”

D
URING THE ENTIRE
drive back to the Bellisimo, there was never a moment when he wasn't touching her. Little caresses, a brush of her cheek, his hand resting lightly on her thigh. And every tiny movement, every slight caress, ratcheted her already overwound libido even tighter.

Only when the valet at the hotel opened her door did he slide his hand from her thigh, the gentle movement leaving an indelible imprint on her flesh. She eased herself out of the car and stood by the revolving door hugging herself while he took the valet ticket.

She knew what would happen next—they'd go upstairs, flirt a little more, and end up making love all night. She should feel like a slut. After all, they weren't dating anymore. She was only here with him, letting him stroke and caress her, because she needed something from him. What had he said? Quid pro quo.

But damn if she didn't want the quid, too.

Finished with the car, he came to her and immediately slipped his arm around her waist. “Ready?”

“Sure. Do you want to grab a drink in the bar?”

He brushed her hair aside and pressed a light kiss
against the back of her neck. “Wouldn't you rather go to your room?”

Oh, yes.
Trying for casual, she shrugged lightly. “Sure. If you want.”

His dimple made a brief appearance as he took her arm, and she was reminded once again of how damn handsome he was. “I want.”

“Well, then, by all means, lead the way.”

With his arm around her waist, they headed for the elevators, fighting the conventioneers, now dressed in evening clothes. They stepped onto the elevator with a well-dressed group that got off at the next level, probably heading for dinner at Oxygen.

“Are you sure you don't need to check in?”

“That's the beauty of hiring excellent managers. My restaurants run like clockwork even when I'm not there.”

“And that doesn't make you feel extraneous?”

They were alone in the elevator, and he turned to stand right in front of her, his palms rubbing softly against her arms. “I find ways to keep busy.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Mmm.”

The air between them sizzled as he stepped closer, near enough that she could feel him against her, could tell that he was just as aroused as she was. It was an empowering feeling. She wasn't calling the shots—not by any stretch of the imagination—but at least she had this tiny bit of control.

“Have you ever made love in an elevator?” His whisper swept over her, tickling the hair near her ear.

“I thought you were into Ferris wheels.”

“Motion,” he said, demonstrating by pressing his hips closer still. “Maybe I just like motion.”

“I—” She broke off with a gasp when his hand snaked down her back, under the waistband of her skirt, and rested at the swell of her backside. He was crossing the line, and she stood up straighter, almost unwilling to believe Ken was seducing her on an elevator. But the evidence was right there, touching and teasing her. “Ken. Not here.”

“Yes, here.” His fingers teased her, dipping beneath the band of her bikini-style panties. “You said anything and everything.” He cupped her rear, stroking and teasing as her knees went weak and she held on to the handrail for support. “Did you lie?”

“N-no.” Someone else's voice. Unfamiliar and raspy. But she didn't care. He was winning. Whatever his game was, he was winning. And she didn't care about that, either. She just closed her eyes and drifted, sandwiched in ecstasy between his hand on her rear, and the hard evidence of his arousal pressed close between her thighs.

He thrust his hips forward, his fingers finding her center with the motion. Another thrust, and she swallowed a gasp as his finger dipped inside her, stroking her wet heat as she writhed shamelessly against him, silently demanding more.

“Do you like that?”

“I…yes.” The admission would cost her, she was sure, but she certainly couldn't lie, not when he could feel the evidence of her arousal.

His hand snaked around, sliding between them to touch her from the front, and she moved closer, spreading her legs to give him better access, then closing her eyes and moaning as he touched her in slow, languid circles. He was driving her crazy, and she wanted nothing more than to be swallowed by insanity.

His other hand moved to her breast, his fingers playing over her nipple through her T-shirt. Lost in an erotic haze, she leaned her head back until it was pressed against the cool glass walls of the elevator.

Glass?
Her eyes flew open. “Ken!” She tried to wriggle free. “This is a glass elevator!”

A slow grin spread across his face. “So I noticed.”

“People can see.” She squirmed some more, but only ended up pressed even tighter against him. His fingers dipped lower, stroking and teasing, and she tried to remember what she was so worried about.

“No one can see.” He kissed her earlobe, then her neck.

“You're sure?”

“We're above the fifteenth floor. Too much angle.”

“Oh. Well.” Her mind told her to protest more. Her body told her to relax and enjoy. And since her knees were weak and her muscles limp, her body was probably going to win the debate.

With a
ding,
the elevator glided to a stop and the doors started to slide open. In an instant he was detached and standing a suitable distance from her, doing nothing more enticing than holding her hand. An elderly couple stepped on, and Lisa wondered if she had some telltale sign of a woman who'd almost been seduced in an elevator.

“This is your floor,” Ken said.

Blinking, she looked at the indicator. “Oh. Right.”

He preceded her out, then took her hand as she led them to her room.

“Well, here we are.” She half leaned against the doorjamb, her head against the wood as she looked into his dark eyes.

“So we are.” He traced the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. She opened her mouth, drawing him in, tasting him, until he pulled away.

“I should…” She trailed off, then pulled her key card out of her purse. When the door unlocked, she pushed it open, pausing a bit in the doorway to see if he was following.

He wasn't.

“Ken?”

“Good night, Lisa. I'll see you tomorrow.”

She almost laughed, then she realized he was serious. “Tomorrow? But I thought…I mean, you said you wanted…” She took a deep breath and tried again. “I thought we had a deal. Your club for, well,
me.
”

“That's the deal, all right.”

She smiled, trying to figure out the joke. “But you're not coming in?”

“Not tonight.”

Not tonight?
They were doing this again? “But…”

“I never said this was a one-shot deal.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just said I wanted you. And I do.” He moved away, two long strides taking him to the end of the hallway. He turned back and smiled, slow and inviting. “I'll see you tomorrow. We'll do some more…scouting.”

She didn't breathe until he'd turned the corner, and then she slipped into her room and leaned back against the closed door, relieved, angry and very, very disappointed.

 

T
HE COLD SHOWER
wasn't doing a damn thing.

Ken pressed his hands against the tile, his head tilted down, and let the spray pound him on the back of the
neck as the ice-cold water dribbled down his body.
Nothing.
He was still hard as steel and frustrated as hell.

What kind of idiot walked away from a woman so obviously willing to let him into her bed? Apparently his kind of idiot, since he was now several floors below her, trying to ease off a hard-on with a cold shower.

By all rights, he should be thrilled. He wanted her desperate for him, and he had no doubt that she was. He wanted her hot and willing, and she was. The problem was, he was torturing himself along with her, and if he kept it up much longer, he'd probably burst.

Maybe he should just go back up to her room and put them both out of their misery…

Irritated with himself, he reached down and shut off the water, then stepped dripping onto the tiled bathroom floor. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he finger-combed his hair and wandered into the bedroom in search of clothes.

He caught his reflection in the dresser mirror and cast himself a disdainful look. “You're pathetic, you know?” His reflection didn't answer, and he took that as agreement. Barely twenty-four hours into his plan, and already he was looking for a shortcut simply because he wanted Lisa in his bed.

No way. He was going to play this out as he'd planned. There was nothing between them now. Nothing. Over the course of the evening some of the rough edges of his anger had been smoothed over. But that didn't mean his heart was healed. And he certainly wasn't going to fall under the illusion that some mythical closeness had developed between them simply because they'd had a pleasant evening and she'd melted in his arms.

She'd hurt him, and he now intended to go through
with his plan to make a clean break. Flush her out of his system for good. And if that meant making them both horny as hell, then so be it.

Right now he had other things to worry about. He wasn't seeing her again until tomorrow night, and already he missed her. But when he did see her, he needed to be ready. He'd promised her a tour of Los Angeles's most sexy locations, and if there was one thing Ken was certain of it was that Lisa would call the entire bargain off if he didn't keep up his end of the deal.

He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a ratty U.C.L.A. T-shirt, then wandered around his suite trying to find Tim's magazine. No luck, and he finally remembered that he'd left it downstairs in his office. He glanced at the clock. Almost midnight, and the restaurant closed at ten on Sundays. Chances were good Tim and the rest of the staff would have already locked up, and he could get in and get out without having to face Tim's interrogation.

He managed to get into his office without incident, but soon realized he'd been a little too optimistic about being alone.

“Looking for this?” Tim leaned against the door, waving the magazine.

“Actually I am. I thought you'd already memorized that issue.”

“Oh, I have,” he said, striding into the room. “Did you know that you can save money on cosmetics by using your lipstick on your cheeks and eyelids? That way your blush is coordinated with your lips and eyes.”

“Amazing. And here I've been dumping all my money into eyeliner.” He grinned up at his friend. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”

Tim folded himself into a chair. “Thought I'd get an update on your game plan.”

Ken chuckled. “My game plan? What the hell are you talking about?”

“The seduction of Lisa, of course.” He tossed the magazine onto the desk. “How'd it go tonight and what's on the agenda for tomorrow?”

“You really think I'm going to tell you?”

“Hell, yes,” Tim said. “I'm your best friend.”

At that, Ken laughed outright. “Can't argue with that.”

“Seriously, how'd it go? Like old times?”

Ken could tell from Tim's smile that the question was lighthearted, but even so, it gnawed on him. In fact, the evening
had
seemed like old times, and that was what was frustrating him. “It's not ever going to be like old times again,” he finally said. “Hell, I'm not even sure the old times were as good as I thought they were.”

“I didn't mean to tap into a sore spot.”

“I know you didn't.” He ran his hands through his hair. “She just…” He shook his head, knowing words couldn't express the way Lisa made him feel. Hell, he didn't know himself. In so many ways, she completed him, but he just had to look at her and the pain flooded back.

Frustrated, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Never mind. Right now I need to focus on why I came down here in the first place.”

Tim kicked back, his long legs crossed at the ankles in front of him. “And here I thought you just missed me.”

“How was business tonight?”

“Booming. We took in about thirty percent more than
usual for a Sunday. Looks like your idea to have a lounge singer on Sunday was inspired.” He grinned. “But you always are.”

“Not always.” He grabbed the magazine off the desk, then stood to pace the room. “I haven't got a single inspiration about a location to show Lisa tomorrow.”

“Nothing in the magazine?”

He stopped, looking down at the cosmopolitan women's magazine in his hand. “That's why I came down here—to take another look.”

“Well, don't let me keep you from perusing the fashion ads.” Tim levered himself up and out of the chair. “Have a good night, boss.” He cast a glance toward the magazine. “And I hope you find some inspiration.”

Back upstairs in his suite, Ken had to admit he was inspired. He was in bed, the magazine open on his lap. The headline—“Sexy City Nights…Love and Lust in the City of Angels”—didn't do the article justice. The reporter had taken it upon herself to combine the universal appeal of Hollywood with the sensual side of Los Angeles and its surroundings. The result was an article that had more than its share of erotic locations inspired by classics of the silver screen.

He flipped the pages, stopping at a double-page spread of a beach at sunset. Lovers walked hand-in-hand along a beach at sunset, waves breaking around their bare feet. They looked at each other, their expressions filled with pure adoration. On the next page, the lovers were intertwined in the surf—the famous beach scene from the movie
From Here to Eternity.

He stifled a groan, feeling himself harden as he imagined Lisa with him on the beach, her body soft beneath his. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back against
the padded headboard. He pictured her hand in his, soft and supple, as they walked barefoot along the beach. Her skirt danced in the wind, the soft material brushing against his legs as they moved.