Night Games (21 page)

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. No use thinking about his other life. Even while he'd stood here, the mist seemed to have thickened. If Jupe and the others were smart, they wouldn't take a chance on the cliff road tonight. If Jupe were really smart, he wouldn't come home at all. Because if the mist didn't get him, Brian would. His agent had messed with his life once too often.

Brian had one more thing to do. He walked to Jupe's shelter, where Nebula waited with folded arms.

“You did not finish your lower-body exercises. Since I am more than a woman, I have no difficulty maintaining muscle tone. But you do not have my advantage. If you do not exercise, you might collapse on top of a woman during competition. This would humiliate your team, your owner, your agent, your—”

“I have
never
fallen on a woman.”
Relax.
Keep it light. He took a deep breath. “You're right.
Don't want my thrust to go bust.” He narrowed his gaze on the shelter. “Let's start with some weight-bearing exercises. Help me get everything out of here. I'm moving it.”

“Why? I chose this spot because it would be close to your shelter.” She watched as he strode inside and started heaving Jupe's stuff out.

“I've decided I want it over there.” He walked to the other side of the castle with Nebula in tow and quickly rebuilt the shelter.

“I do not understand why you put it here.” She helped Brian move everyone's things inside.

He grinned at her. “I want privacy to meditate so I can be more than a man.”

Nebula nodded her understanding. “Ah, you wish to impress this Ally.”

Brian cast her a searching glance. “What makes you think that?”

“I have seen the way you look at her. She is puny and will never be more than a woman, but perhaps I could enhance her skill level so she will be worthy of you.”

And for the first time in the history of Nebula's stint as his trainer, she smiled.

Brian narrowed his gaze on her. “Don't mess with her skill level, Nebula. I like it right where it is.”

He walked to the wagon, then paused. Would Ally still want him to help with her book? Probably. She'd convince herself she had the strength to resist him, that she didn't want him sexually after what she'd experienced. He tightened his
lips. He'd just have to convince her he could be an invaluable resource for foreplay information and everything that came after.

Brian climbed onto the wagon and reached for the door.
Eyes.
He'd make sure he didn't look at her the way he looked at the women in competition, whatever way that was.

Thinking sex-free thoughts that he hoped would translate into sex-free gazes, he opened the door.

As Brian entered, Ally glanced up from what she was writing. He brought the scent of cool mist and excitement with him. Her heart automatically ratcheted up a beat when he entered her sphere of awareness. Pathetic. An adult should be able to control one small organ.

The Old One lay on the bed beside Ally, indicating in her unique way her thoughts on Ally's foreplay brainstorming. Taking a look at Ally's latest effort, the Old One yawned.

Ally cast her an irritated glance, then turned her attention to Brian. “She hates everything. What do I have to do to please her?” She slapped her pad down on the bed.

“Make her richer.” He sat down on the bench seat rather than next to her.

“You must make her very happy then.” Okay, she was being bitchy. She smiled. It felt good.

“I could make
you
happy, too.”

He shifted his gaze to the naked-woman-inneed-of-cellulite-removal painting, but not before she saw the gleam in his eyes.

“You have that look in your eyes, the same one you had during the game. I hate it.” Fine, so she didn't hate it. She wanted to hate it, though. It was pure sex and sinful desire. And it put her in a sinning mood, too. If she were going to sin, she wanted to do it with a man who met her criteria, a man with caring eyes. Brian didn't come close.

He looked back at her. Anger had narrowed his eyes.

Hmm. She liked the other look better.

“Give me a break, woman. I'm here to help you with your book, not to pass some eye-expression test. Who cares what my eyes look like? My eyes can't do anything to you.”

“Don't call me woman. That's what you called me during the game.” And his eyes could do lots of things to her. They could strip her bare of clothes and resistance. They made her heart pound too fast and her breathing work too slowly. They made her hands sweat and her stomach churn. He was
not
a positive influence in her life.

Suddenly, he relaxed and offered her a slanted grin. “Okay, now that you've laid down the ground rules, let's get started with the book.”

Ally frowned. Maybe she should add that smile to her list of banned facial expressions. Maybe she should make him wear a mask. “Well, since I'm now totally immune to you . . .”

He laughed softly.

“I guess we could start with the massage.” She cast the Old One a meaningful glance.

The Old One stood, stretched, then jumped from the bed. She was headed for Brian.

Brian stood. “Uh-uh. No lap to sit in, Boss. You're out of here.”

The Old One jumped onto the counter and planted her ample bottom among the clean plates stacked there. Her yellow eyes gleamed. The lines of battle were drawn. This was war.

Brian moved to the counter, leaned his hip against it, then crossed his arms. “Remember our little talk, Boss? The win-win thing? Make my life tough, and that incentive clause could get expensive.”

Expensive.
Brian had touched a hot spot. The Old One hissed her disgust with his below-thebelt tactics and leaped from the counter.

He walked to the door, opened it, then watched as she stalked out with tail twitching angrily. “How about a visit with Nebula? She's lonely. Doesn't have anyone worthy to talk to.” Brian closed the door behind her, locked it, then leaned against it. “So let's talk about your night of perfect pleasure.”

“Sure. Perfect pleasure.” Ally heard the doubt in her voice. After what she'd gone through in her reality experience, she didn't know how much help Brian would be. Except for the perfect orgasm part. “Umm. What do you know about foreplay?”

“I told you, I don't do foreplay.”

“Foreplay is very important to women in this time.” They'd start with the massage; then she'd
have to think of something else creative.

“Never needed it. Why can't we go directly to the orgasm?” His smile had irritating written all over it.

Now she was getting steamed. “Because I can't write a book with four hundred pages of orgasms.”

“Why not?”

He didn't do dense well.

“Because foreplay is
fun.
Women in 2002 are about
fun
.” Her voice rose with each word. “Didn't you ever have
fun
with sex?”

He looked sincerely puzzled. “Fun? The orgasm is fun.”

“Five hundred years of male evolution, and what hath time wrought?” She glared at him. “Nothing.”

Then she saw the laughter glittering in his eyes. With a sigh, she released her anger. Anger would not make this a successful collaboration, and even though he knew squat about foreplay, he knew loads about the female body and how to wring a response from said body.

Ally also needed a real male body to practice foreplay on so she could write her book with all the required emotion. Brian's was the only acceptable male body in sight. Okay, more than acceptable. Lord, she was starting to sound like Nebula.

“Listen up. Here's the scene.” She glanced at Brian. “We've come back to my place—”

“
My
place. I'd bring a woman to my place. Definitely.”
He moved to the fridge, pulled out a Coke, then took a few gulps.

Fascinated, Ally watched his neck as he swallowed. He had a great throat. She'd love to put her mouth right there where his blood pulsed—

“We're at my place. Now what?” He left his drink on the counter and sat down beside her on the bed.

She blinked, detaching herself from her fixed study of his throat. Maybe she was related to Black Liam Byrne, the evilest vampire in all Ireland. “We have a drink, joke around, talk about movies, then decide to play out a fantasy for fun. I'll fill in the beginning dialogue later.”

He looked intrigued. “I've never created a fantasy with a woman. Except for the gypsy one I did with you.”

“Have you ever fantasized on your own?”
Dumb question, O'Neill
. He's spent every working hour having sex. Men didn't fantasize when they had all the beautiful women they wanted.

His slow smile moved over her. “I fantasize a lot about the gypsy thing, especially the part where you dance naked.” His smile widened. “In my private fantasy no one watches except me. In my private fantasy, I take you to my bed and perform incredible acts of—”

“Yes, well, we'll discuss the incredible acts later.” For a moment she considered the wisdom of setting Brian's fantasies loose in her book. She straightened her spine. So long as she controlled the fantasizing while getting sensual details from
him, everything would be fine. “Now, about
this
fantasy. I belong to the harem of a powerful sheik. Hmm. I wonder if that's historically accurate. Did sheiks have harems?”

He shrugged. “Your readers won't be checking your historical accuracy. They'll be skipping pages to get to the sex part.”

She sighed. “Right. The sex.” No use putting if off any longer. “The sheik or whoever has sent me to get a massage so I'll be ready for him. You're the one who massages the women of the harem. But you can't control yourself with me and—”

“I'd be a eunuch.” He frowned. “Your sheik wouldn't trust his women to a whole man. I don't think I like the direction this is taking.”

“You can't be a eunuch.” What an awful thought. What a
waste.

His expression brightened, and Ally didn't like the gleam in his eyes.

“Why not reverse the fantasy? I could be the slave in a male harem, and you've been ordered to ready me for my mistress.”

It was Ally's turn to frown. “Wouldn't it be the same thing? Wouldn't I lust after you? Your mistress wouldn't want that.”

Brian's gaze turned calculating. “You hate me. I rejected you because you have . . . brown eyes. You've decided you'll make me suffer by driving me crazy with your massage, then turning your back on me.”

Brown eyes?
Didn't he like her eyes? What was
wrong with her eyes? “I don't know. After Dave, I swore I'd never do things just to please a man again. I said that during interviews, so my readers will have expectations. This scenario sounds like I'd be doing the giving.” She narrowed her gaze. This was what Brian wanted. He'd said he'd like a woman who'd please him.

He glanced at her, and sensual promise heated his gaze. “It's about power, babe.”

“Power?” What did power have to do with a stupid fantasy?

His stare grew thoughtful. “You held the power in the relationship. You did everything for him, so good old Dave depended on you.”

Ally eyes widened. Ohmigod, it was true. Dave's troubles with Erica stemmed from his dependence on Ally. She'd never thought of herself as the power broker in their relationship. She'd need time to readjust her thinking.

“I'd say you have to make a decision, sweetheart.”

Ally closed her eyes, but that didn't keep out the painful insight into her character. She wanted the power. And for the first time, she considered the idea that maybe Dave hadn't been the only one at fault in their marriage.

Now was not the time for soul-searching, though. She had a decision to make.

Never let it be said that Ally O'Neill didn't know how to twist self-discovery to suit herself. She could honestly state that she wouldn't be doing this to please Brian, but to feed her need for
power. There was something wickedly sensual about a powerful woman. “I'll give you the massage.”

He didn't try to hide his satisfaction. “No woman has ever given me a massage.”

“Nebula's your trainer. Hasn't she given you one?”

Brian grinned at her. “Sure, but she's more than a woman, so she doesn't count. Besides, Nebula's massages are like getting body slammed by one of your sumo wrestlers. Pure pain.”

His comment relieved some of Ally's tension. “I have one other suggestion.” Her imagination was in hyper-drive now. “I still think your mistress would want to make sure nothing happened. So I think she'd have you tied so you can't touch me.” Ally smiled. She liked that idea. A little kinkiness never hurt book sales.

Brian's expression told her all she needed to know about his opinion.

Ally leaped in with both feet before he could object. “You've never been the one who's powerless, have you? During the games, it's the woman who can't touch.” She shrugged. “I'll understand if you can't handle it.” She added the coup de grâce: “Hey, you've always wanted a woman who would do things for you. Well, here I am, prepared to do all the work in this massage fantasy.”

She watched him wrestle with his male pride,
knew by his muttered oath and narrowed gaze the exact moment he gave in.

“Fine. Let's do it.”

He didn't sound too happy with his role, but she thought it'd be . . . fun. Okay, so it excited the heck out of her. All that gleaming bare flesh and rippling muscle at her mercy. Just the thought gave her goose bumps . . . in strange and intriguing places.

Ally looked into his eyes, saw them change into the eyes of the man who'd had sex with someonewho-might-have-been-her that afternoon. This was his game face.

“My mistress wants me prepared for tonight. She's chosen you to administer to my body.” He raked Ally with a contemptuous gaze. “I don't think she chose well.”