Nobody Does It Better (17 page)

"Devin?" she said, and he heard the haze of sleep in her voice.

"Hmm?"

"I think I like these new ground rules."

They made love twice more during the night. Both times she'd moved innocently against him. Her hand had brushed against his chest. Her arm had rested across his waist.

Immediately his body would react, and at his heated touch, she would wake up and slide into his arms, rubbing herself sleepily against him until he had to have her yet again. He just couldn't get enough of her.

By the time he could hear the bustle of the hotel staff in the hallway, Devin knew only two things for certain. He was going to get damn little sleep over the next three weeks. And he was hopelessly in love with
Paris
.

Now all he had to do was convince her she felt exactly the same way about him. Devin O'Malley.

Chapter 9

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"
S
o, how's our little protégé?" Rachel asked.

Paris
balanced the cell phone between her shoulder and her ear. "Fabulous, of course. Hold on a sec."

Across the crowded neighborhood bookstore, Devin sat behind a table highlighted by an enlarged poster of
Dearest Enemy, Deadly Friend.
He looked up from the book he was signing and flashed her a smile.

Just one smile, and suddenly
Paris
was rattled and
weak-kneed like a schoolgirl.

Paris
forced herself back to the phone call, turning away from Devin's table so she wouldn't get distracted again. "It's amazing. I just aim him at a camera or a bookstore or a journalist and, poof, instant Alexander. Every interview has gone over like a dream. Nothing rattles this man."

"Of course not. Didn't you invent him to be smooth, in control, a skilled operator under pressure?"

"Rachel…"
Paris
warned. She was in no mood to get into the Devin-Alexander thing. Over the past few days,
Paris
was beginning to think that maybe Alexander wasn't all she'd cracked him up to be. Sure, sophistication and a background in espionage could add a little extra zest to a relationship, but she couldn't really picture Alexander sitting cross-legged in front of the television, wearing nothing but ratty twill shorts and a tacky T-shirt, content just to hold her hand.

"Can you hold on a sec?" Rachel asked. "I've got another call."

"Sure,"
Paris
said, turning back around to pass the time watching Devin. She grinned, remembering how thrilled he had been the night before when he'd discovered
Arsenic and Old Lace
in the late-night television listings. He'd suggested they cancel dinner plans at one of the chic new bistros in
West Hollywood
, and
Paris
had willingly agreed.

At one point Devin had slipped his arm around her shoulder, and she'd rested her head in the crook of his neck. They'd sat that way for a long time, with Devin lightly stroking her hair, while Cary Grant discovered that his little old aunts were mercifully murdering stray gentlemen.

Their gourmet dinner consisted of take-out pizza and wine from the hotel. They ate on paper towels and drank from the hotel glasses on top of the mini-bar. And after the movie, he'd kissed each of her fingertips, then moved on to kiss much more interesting places.

A glorious evening. And unlike anything she'd ever imagined with Alexander.

With Alexander, it had always been formal gowns and scotch on the rocks, satin sheets and cruise lines. She pictured Devin in black-tie and smiled. He could do formal with the best of them. But could Alexander go grocery shopping? Could he lounge around in sweats and play poker on the bed? She frowned. She'd never thought about it. Reality had never crept into her fantasies. Hell, until recently, her fantasies had never become reality.

So which guy was really more appealing? Especially when one of them had the added benefit of being flesh and blood?

But this is only a temporary fling. He's still all wrong, remember?
Yes, she remembered. But it was becoming more and more difficult to recall why she'd been so gung ho on planning her life out forever.

Paris
jumped as Rachel coughed into her ear.

"
Paris
, did you hear a word I just said?"

"What? No, sorry."

"I said that I saw both of you on one of the late-night talk shows last night."

"Both of us? Which show? We taped four yesterday afternoon."

Rachel gave a dismissive snort. "Who cares? The point is you two looked awfully chummy. Have you used up my supply yet? Need me to overnight you a truckload? Hot pink? Vibrant green?"

"Will you stop it?"
Paris
said, with less force than she'd intended. She hadn't planned to keep secret the fact that she'd made love with Devin, but somehow she'd never got around to confiding in her best friend.

"Now I know you're a martyr. It's obvious you're crazy about him."

Paris
couldn't bring herself to form an argument. It was true. Rachel was right. She was crazy about him. But if she told Rachel they'd slept together, her friend would latch on to her "He's The One" spiel. And that was a place her thoughts had no business going.

"So, did you find out about the room situation in Vegas?"
Paris
asked, changing the subject and hoping Rachel took the hint.

"Yep. I talked to your publicist this morning. Everything's fine. You and the Boy Toy are in a suite. Since I'm neither the author nor the author's imposter, I'm in a regular room."

"Thanks for calling for me. And I'm glad you're able to come."

"You think I'd miss Vegas? Where they pay men to stand on the street wearing gladiator costumes? Of course I wanted to come. And I check in the day before you, so if you want I'll check Alexander's itinerary and make sure nobody screwed up the appointments."

"You're an angel."
Paris
checked her watch. An hour until the store closed, but the line for the autograph table was still long. "I'm gonna let you go."

"
Paris
, I've got one more thing. Just one word before you go."

"What?"

"Latex," said Rachel, and Paris heard her drop the phone she was laughing so hard. Shaking her head,
Paris
clicked the cell phone shut without even waiting for Rachel to recover.

The urge to spend some time alone with Devin was suddenly palpable, but it would be a while before she could scratch that itch. Judging by the number of people still in line,
Paris
figured she had about an hour's wait.

The bookstore had big, comfy armchairs placed strategically around the store, and
Paris
grabbed one near enough to Devin that she could keep an eye on him. They'd agreed on the first day of the tour that if he hit a snag, he could flash her a hand signal and she'd somehow rescue him. So far it hadn't been needed.

Paris
grabbed her notebook computer from her tote bag and hauled it into her lap. She really needed to get some work done on
Distant Passages.
Determined to make progress on this epic she was writing,
Paris
flipped open the computer and switched it on. She booted up the file and put her hands on the keyboard, ready to crank out those award-winning words just as fast as her fingers could type.

Nothing came.

Okay. No problem. She reread the last chapter she'd written, figuring that would stir some creative juices.

Boring. And how did she expand on boring? She had no ideas. Nothing.

At least nothing for
this
book. Her head was overflowing with ideas for the next three Montgomery Alexander books. Some really innovative ideas.
Brandon
would be impressed. She'd have to remember to tell him what Alexander was plotting when she called in to give him a progress report on the book tour.

She turned her attention back down to her epic. The cursor blinked at her, and she scowled.

Giving in, she changed files and her fingers began to dance over the keyboards as she wrangled and manipulated Joshua O'Malley, super spy extraordinaire, and the other characters in Montgomery Alexander's fictional world.

She did a double take, looking back at the screen. It was
Devin
O'Malley. Joshua's name was
Malloy.
The man had completely infiltrated her imagination.

"Boo."

Paris
jumped. She'd been so absorbed that she hadn't realized Devin had finished until he was leaning over her.

"Sorry," he added. "I thought you'd heard me."

"What time is it?"

"About six. They're closing up. Ready?"

Paris
nodded and collected her things, following Devin to the
front,
and joining him in thanking the manager for all the work the store had put into the signing.

"Hey, people eat this stuff up," the manager said. "Adventure, sex, a touch of mystery. A little class. The books go like hotcakes. Hope you don't plan on stopping anytime soon, 'cause you sure would disappoint a lot of people."

Devin flashed an Alexanderish smile, then looked straight at
Paris
before turning back to the manager. "No, this is one project that I'm in for the duration. At least as long as circumstances allow."

An unexpected tug of melancholy grabbed her.
Circumstances
gave them just three weeks. And then they'd both get back to their lives apart.

For now, at least, she intended to enjoy having Devin around. In and out of her bed.

They'd rented a car, and Devin opened the passenger door for her, then slid in behind the steering wheel. "Where to?"

"Where? The hotel. We're hitting
San Diego
tomorrow and I haven't even packed."

"Our last day in
Los Angeles
and you want to pack? Just throw your clothes in a laundry bag and let the next hotel press everything."

She rolled her eyes. Typical guy.

He twisted in the seat to face her, sporting a lopsided grin. "Come on,
Paris
, you know you want to."

"I do?"

"Oh, yeah. You really do."

Of course she'd do whatever he wanted. How could she turn him down? "Well, then. Lead the way."

Devin maneuvered the car through the tree-lined
Pasadena
streets, finally ending up on one of
Los Angeles
's many freeways.

Paris
was completely lost. "Where are we going?"

"It's a secret."

"Oh." She caught a glimpse of a freeway sign as they merged onto Interstate 10 and headed west. "If you go the other direction we can visit my dad." Odd to think that the same piece of road traveled all the way to Texas, within just a few miles of her father's sprawling Houston house, and then on even farther to the Florida coast.

Paris
usually slept on road trips, but a cross-country jaunt with Devin would probably be a blast. She could imagine him telling funny little stories to pass the time, or singing along with the radio. Then there would be all those stops at motels along the way. Cheap wine and bed picnics and all the perks that she already associated with Devin and hotel rooms.

"Daddy'll have to spend the evening alone, I'm afraid." He took his eyes off the road just long enough to fix them on her. "I've got other plans for his darling daughter tonight."

He let go of the steering wheel and checked his left palm, then exited the freeway. Another glimpse at his hand, and he made a series of turns, finally ending up in a parking garage. "This looks like as good a place to park as any."

"Let me see your hand,"
Paris
demanded.

Devin opened the car door. "Okay, everybody out."

Paris
crossed her arms over her chest and sunk down into the seat. "I'm not going anywhere until you let me see your hand."

"Hmm. Really?" She nodded. "That's a shame," he said. "Because I plan on having a great time tonight." He stepped out of the car and turned around to face her. "Well, see ya."

Then he shut the door, and
Paris
watched as he ambled across the parking structure toward the stairs. She half considered staying in the car, just to show him. She contemplated the roof of the car and shook her head. Who was she kidding? Of course she was going with him.

She should have known better than to try and bluff Devin the Wonder Gambler. He was probably a whiz at poker.

Sure that she would be mercilessly teased, she climbed out of the car and scrambled across the parking lot.

He was waiting for her just inside the stairwell.

"A minute and twenty seconds. Truly your stamina is something to behold." He was razzing her, of course, and she playfully stuck out her tongue at him.

The thought struck her that somewhere along the line she'd begun to expect,
to count on,
his gentle teasing, their silly games. Standing in a grungy parking garage somewhere in
Santa Monica
,
Paris
felt more alive than she had in a long time.

Before she realized what she was doing, she stroked his cheek. Devin caught her hand and kissed her palm before pulling her into his arms. They'd shared bunches of glorious kisses, but, like snowflakes, each was unique, and she drew closer in anticipation of this kiss. First soft and sweet, then harder and deeper until she thought she would drown in it.

As
his tongue explored her mouth, she settled into the kiss, savoring the way Devin's hands explored her back, gently pulling her to him. His mouth moved away from hers and he littered her face with feather kisses. His tongue played over her ear, and she felt her skin ignite and her stomach tighten. A soft moan escaped her lips and she pulled back to face him. She recognized the passion in his eyes.