Motor City Fae (6 page)

“Good.” He tugged her up the grand staircase, down another corridor paneled with burnished golden oak and finally stopped at the second door from the end of a long hallway. “This is your room. Mine’s the next.”

“With a connecting door.” She was short of breath but not from the stairs.

“And a shared bathroom.”

“I think we can handle that.”

“I promised not to pressure you, but you’re killing me here. If you don’t want me inside, you’d better keep that damned door locked.” Did he mean inside the room, or inside
her?
The thought had her nipples tightening and her thighs clenching.

He turned her to face him, gripping both of her forearms so tightly it almost hurt. Then he inhaled a ragged breath and stepped back, releasing her arms.

“Meanwhile, how about a swim? If I’m lucky, the water will be ice cold.”

He opened the door to her room and her jaw dropped again. The huge room was furnished with carved walnut and crisp white linens. The scent of lavender and lemon oil gently suffused the air, along with the fragrance from a vase filled with roses that stood on the dresser. Huge leaded windows filled the entire far wall, fronted by a velvet-covered window-seat. A thick oriental carpet in pink and white filled the center of the glossy wood floor.

“How’s life down the rabbit hole, Alice?” The humor was back in his tone.

“Can you read my mind, or what?” she demanded, stepping past him into the palatial chamber.

“Only when you broadcast your thoughts so loudly.”

He chuckled in a way that made her long to rip his clothes off and handcuff him to the nearest bed—which just happened to be a magnificent four-poster piled with pillows.

When she shot him a glare, he laughed again and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Okay, okay. Let’s just say you have a very expressive face.” He lifted her by the waist and kissed her soundly.

She relaxed against him and shrieked in surprise when he strode into the room and tossed her onto the white duvet.

He grinned and took a step back. “Now I’m going to walk out of here, before I give into the urge to try out that bed.”

Ric tensed when he heard the knock on the connecting door. This was it. The moment of truth. He held his breath as he opened the door to see Meagan standing there in a plain navy blue swimsuit. An exceptionally
modest
onepiece swimsuit. The high neckline covered her plump breasts, flattening them somewhat, though he could still see her nipples poking out, tempting him to touch. A faded turquoise beach towel was wrapped sarong-style around her waist.

Most importantly, he reminded himself, he couldn’t see if the mark was there or not.

He forced his gaze away from her spandex-covered curves, while disappointment warred with appreciation.

“Shall we go?”

She took his arm and followed him down to the pool.

Throughout the afternoon, Ric cursed himself a hundred times for not keeping Meagan locked in their suite, naked. He sat on the edge of the Olympic-sized pool, sipping a beer and watching her as she joined in an energetic game of water volleyball with several of the younger guests. He gave himself just a moment to enjoy the show before he went back to worrying about his mission. Her generous curves were well-covered, but they still bounced deliciously as she jumped and splashed. Her riotous curls were drawn up into a high ponytail, but they still tumbled past her shoulders in back and he still wanted to bury his hands in them.

All he knew was that mission or no mission, he wanted her with a bone-deep yearning he couldn’t remember feeling in all of his eight hundred years. And he damn sure wasn’t letting Owain le Faire, or anybody else for that matter, lay a hand on her.

Forcing his temper down and his expression to remain neutral, Ric glanced around the pool-patio area. A movement at the garden gate caught his eye and he raised a hand to hail Greg, who snagged a drink from a passing waiter and ambled over.

“Thanks for coming.” Ric held out a hand, which Greg shook before kicking off his flip-flops and dropping to the tile beside Ric to dangle his feet in the pool. With his shaggy mane of black hair, tie-dyed T-shirt and cut-off jeans, Greg couldn’t have looked more out of place, but his supreme self-confidence allowed him to fit in anywhere.

“No problem. Watching a pretty girl at a swanky party isn’t exactly hard labor.” He downed his drink in a single swallow. “She’s a cutie.”

“Right.” It nearly came out as a growl.

“Relax,
Ernie.
I get the message. No poaching.” More than a few female heads turned their way at the sound of Greg’s rumbling laughter and Ric winced, hoping none of them had heard the irritating nickname.

“Subtle, Novak. Surveillance is supposed to be subtle,” Ric muttered between his teeth.

Greg laughed again. “Not the way I do it.” He waved at the group in the pool and winked at a sunbather in a skimpy bikini. Turning back to Ric, he lowered his voice.

“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. Rin Tin Tin is on the job. So she’s the one you’ve been searching for, huh? Kind of anti-climatic running into her in my bar.”

“Yeah, well Fate’s a bitch with an odd sense of humor. I
think
she’s the one.” He stared at Meagan, who was still engrossed in the game, laughing and splashing with the teenagers.

Eyes shaded by mirrored sunglasses, Greg scanned the crowd. “Quite an accumulation of guests. There are a few types even I don’t recognize.”

And with Greg’s nose for strangeness, that was saying something. Ric snickered. “The gorilla tending bar is probably a troll.”

Greg grinned. “Cool. How about the old lady in pink?”

“Gnome.” Ric tipped his head toward the dainty woman in Chanel and her companion. “Dude with her is a djinn.”

“God, I love this place. Most parties, I’m the freak.”

“You’re always a freak, Spot.” Ric punched his friend in the arm. “Has nothing to do with genetics, just your charming personality.” As stressed out as he’d been, it felt good to be sitting in the sunshine bullshitting with an old friend. Still, his gaze never wandered from Meagan for more than a second.

“Yeah, well, you’re an asshole, but I put up with you anyway.” Greg snaked out one arm and shoved Ric into the pool.

Ric’s surprised howl turned into a gurgle as his head disappeared below the water. Turning to look at him, Meagan missed seeing the volleyball that smacked into the side of her face. Caught off-balance, she tipped over sideways and got a dunking as well. When she came up sputtering, Ric was dragging his still-dressed friend in by the feet while the kids from the volleyball game cheered him on. She shoved her wet hair out of her eyes and waded over.

“Having fun, boys?” Even though she’d only met Greg for a few minutes, she was relieved to see a familiar face, especially one that looked almost as out of place as she felt.

Greg emerged from the water wearing dripping wet tie-dye and a distinctly feral grin. As soon as he noticed Meagan, however, the smile softened and the corners of his dark eyes crinkled as he held out his hand. “Hi there, Meagan. We meet again.”

Meagan knew that his growly voice and those intense dark eyes really wowed the women at his club and in his clinging wet clothes she could tell that his body, though shorter and broader than Ric’s, was nonetheless made of solid sculpted muscle.

As she shook Greg’s hand, she couldn’t help darting a glance at Ric and his luscious tan chest with its brighter gold hairs. He was slender, true, but his swim trunks revealed a taut, toned body. His lean muscles glided gracefully when he moved. Meagan felt a moment of panic as she wondered, again, just what the heck he was doing with someone as ordinary as her.

As if sensing her sudden onslaught of doubt, Ric wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her closer, dropping a kiss on her hair in a move so overtly possessive that even she understood it. Jealous again! She didn’t get it, but it was sure a kick.

With a short snicker, Greg pulled his soaked shirt over his head and tossed it to the side of the pool, where it landed with a wet splat. Then he winked at Meagan and moved off to take her place in the volleyball game, leaving her standing alone with Ric in the shallow end of the pool.

His skin radiated warmth along her side where they were pressed together and the intensity of the contact made her shiver, which caused his fingers to tighten around her waist. They dug into her flesh through the nylon of her suit and she was suddenly aware of just how little fabric actually separated their two overheated bodies.

Ric’s low chuckle broke the tense silence that stretched between them. “We could just quit fighting this and go upstairs now,” he offered, a wry note roughening his beautiful voice.

She swallowed hard. “We could,” she agreed. “It’s just…” Just what? What the hell was she waiting for?

“I know.” He turned her in his arms to face him, brought his other arm up to circle her waist as well, his hands resting dangerously low on her backside. “Believe me, Meagan, this isn’t normal for me either. Whatever is going on between us has me as confused as you are.”

Impossible. She stared up at him, shaking her head.

Her lips were dry and she flicked her tongue over them nervously, drawing a groan from Ric.

“Tell you what, sweetheart. Let’s move farther into the pool, okay. And do me a favor, walk in front of me while we do. This is kind of embarrassing.”

Of course she looked. She was only human. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the size of the erection that tented his trunks. Whatever she might or might not know about Ric, he was certainly every bit as turned on by her as she was by him. Or else he belonged in some kind of record book. The kind they only sold from age-restricted sites on the Internet.

Ric laughed again and turned her so she faced away from him. His massive erection brushed against her backside and she shuddered, taking slow steps toward deeper water.

“Mr. Thornhill!” A crisp, businesslike voice with the same accent as Ric and Aidan broke through the haze of intimacy and jolted them back to reality. Meagan looked up to see an impossibly thin woman with a blond chignon approach the pool. She managed to walk right up to the edge without a drop of spray marring either her elegant silk suit or her ivory Italian pumps. She cast a disapproving glance at the cheerful mayhem of the volleyball game, with slanting aqua eyes that exactly matched the color of her suit. Then she gave Meagan a glare that could have frozen the pool.

“Mr. Thornhill, Lo—I mean Mr. Greene wishes to speak with you in the library.” She lifted her perfect nose as she looked pointedly at Meagan. “Alone.”

“Tell him I’ll be along shortly, Fianna.” Ric was still kneading Meagan’s shoulders and showing no interest at all in the blonde.

“I’m afraid I must insist. Apparently it is a matter of great urgency.” The ice-bitch tapped her foot impatiently.

Meagan leaned back into Ric, enough to feel his warmth along the length of her spine.

Ric sighed and his talented hands stopped moving.

Meagan tipped her head back to look at him and met his gaze, full of resignation and concern. “Would you mind? Aidan doesn’t panic easily. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“That’s fine,” she lied.

“Hey, Meagan, we need you in the game.” Greg chose that moment to call from across the pool. She thought he caught Ric’s eye over her head and apparently some signal was exchanged between the two men, because Ric’s tense posture and his grip on her shoulders suddenly relaxed. “Jennifer left, so teams are uneven.” Sure enough, one young woman had just climbed out of the pool.

“Be there in a second.” She went up on tiptoe and pressed a quick kiss on Ric’s lips. “Hurry back.”

His return kiss was brief and hard. “I will.” Then he hauled himself out of the pool and followed the blonde.

He hadn’t returned when the game ended fifteen or twenty minutes later. Meagan sat at a tiny table under a rose-trellised pergola near the patio bar, sipping a frozen cocktail while Greg, her self-appointed babysitter, had ducked inside to, as he so elegantly put it, drain the lizard.

“I’m surprised to find such a lovely young lady out here all alone.” Meagan looked up to see a trim, dapper man with silver hair standing beside her. He wore a pale gray linen suit and one hand held a glass of white wine while the other shaded his eyes from the sun. “Would you object to some company for a few moments, my dear?”

“Of course not.” Meagan gestured to the chair Greg had vacated and smiled at the older man. His accent was more pronounced than either Ric’s or Aidan’s; he was obviously on foreign soil. He accepted the proffered seat with a courtly bow and smiled at her with such old-world charm that she could almost imagine herself wearing couture in a European ballroom, instead of a damp swimsuit on an American patio.

“Where are my manners?” he cried, shaking his head.

“Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Owen Ferris.” He held out a hand that was perfectly manicured and showed no signs of age. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the silver hair and a few thin lines by his ice-blue eyes, Meagan might have thought he was closer to thirty than the fifty his clothes and bearing suggested.

“Meagan Kelly,” she replied, meeting her hand with his. Instead of shaking it, he shocked her by pulling it to his face and kissing it. She knew it was supposed to be flattering, but somehow, it seemed a bit—well—icky. He held on a moment, until she awkwardly tugged it back.

“Ah, the artist. I saw your work in the foyer, my dear. Extraordinary! Regrettably, I’m told that Thornhill refuses to part with it. Would you happen to have any others available for sale?”

This kind of high-end demand could really make her career. She thanked him for the compliment and offered him the name of the gallery that sold her work. “I’m sure Elise would love to hear from you. I have some of her cards upstairs. I could go get you one.”

“Let me escort you,” he offered with a kindly smile.

“I’m sure you’re still a bit lost in this great rambling pile.”

She was, but she didn’t want to seem like a total peasant, so she wasn’t going to admit it. Besides, she was smart enough to not invite strange men, even kind-looking older ones, to walk her to her bedroom. Who was this guy, anyway?