Postcards From Last Summer (9 page)

“I'm not sure we should do this,” I admitted.

“Come on,” he said, sliding a hand down my tummy and sinking it between my legs. Being touched there made me want to sing out on the spot. “Come on,” he whispered as he found the sensitive nub. “Doesn't that feel good? We can make each other feel good, Darcy.”

I closed my eyes against the tears, pressed them shut tightly and gave in to the intense sensation between my legs. It did feel good, and what did I have to lose?

Nothing.

And maybe, sometime in the morning when we were cuddling in the turquoise sheets or laughing over a joke, I'd remind him that my name wasn't Darcy.

T
ara had never felt so on fire for sex, her nipples tingling, her lower body tightening in anticipation. The warm water of the hot tub soothed and tickled as it bubbled over her body, helping her relax enough to look Charlie in the eye. It was silly to feel uptight. This was Charlie, the guy who made her laugh, the storyteller who understood so much about people.

She had made him look the other way when she'd dropped her towel and stepped down into the water, but now, having discussed mosquito repellents and chlorine levels, barometric pressure and green tea, Tara was getting that giddy feeling again. Nothing was off limits for discussion with Charlie, and since he seemed to know a little about a lot of things, he could hold up his end of a conversation.

“Why don't you come over here, where I can touch you?” he asked after they'd basked in the water a few minutes.

In the blue light of the pool with their skin slick and shiny, she didn't feel embarrassed anymore. In fact, she let herself stand in the center, watching his face react as water beaded and dripped down her shoulders, over her small, firm breasts.

“That's it, right beside me,” he said, his dark, smoky eyes intent on her.

She felt the hairs on his legs brush against her thigh as she nestled beside him, hip against hip. His hand touched her knee, then slid up along the tender skin of her inner thigh. Moving close, closer, then stopping just at the top of her leg to circle the mound of hair. She sighed with longing, shocked at the sweet sensation.

“Your friend Darcy was a mensch to set this up for us,” he whispered as his hand traveled along the inner thigh of the other leg. “Otherwise, we'd be wrestling in the backseat of a car somewhere, dodging the cops.”

She let out a breath as he reached the top of her leg again and circled around the most sensitive area, driving her wild. “Without Darcy, it might have never happened.”

“Oh, it was going to happen.” Suddenly his hand was at her center, gripping her pelvis firmly. “This had to happen for us. From the minute I met you, I knew I was going to have you, Tara.”

She sucked in a quick breath, shocked and delighted at his firm grip on her. “Aren't you cocky?” she teased. “You sound like a pirate.”

He growled. “Never say pirate to an army man.”

Wrapped in fluffy towels, they slipped quickly through the velvet night and into the house, now lit by lavender-scented votive candles. Moving quickly, Tara led the way up the stairs and down the long corridor into their room.

Charlie closed the door and turned to her, his eyes widening with a gasp.

She stood before him naked, the white towel pooled around her feet.

“Wow. Bonus day.” He yanked at the towel at his waist, and she let her eyes run down the dark line of hair that fanned out over the erection cradled in his square hips.

In the past, she had always felt awkward about this part, but now she stepped toward him and wrapped her fingers around him, stroking, squeezing with want.

“That feels good.” He groaned. “But I gotta warn you, I'm so far along I can't take much. Let me fuck you, please.”

She placed a kiss on his lips, then went to the small basket of condoms that Darcy had left beside the bed. Charlie rolled one on, turned to her perched at the edge of the bed, and gently parted her thighs.

Open to him, she let herself watch as he nudged her, teasing the folds of delicate tissue, stroking her with a steady rhythm. The sight of them joined together excited her all the more, and all too quickly that image along with the motion created a fire between her legs—a new sensation for Tara. “Don't stop. Don't stop . . .” she murmured desperately.

But he was already dropping to his knees and pressing his mouth to her, his lips and tongue pressing on in the same, aroused areas. “Oh, Charlie . . .” She let her head fall back on the bed as she gave herself up to sensation, to the sweet rumble of sexuality thundering through her body.

It had never been like this. Not even close.

And even as his mouth brought her to new heights, she knew she had to have him inside her, in the most primal, natural ritual of all.

“I need you now,” she gasped, flexing her knees and pushing back on the bed. “I need you to fuck me.”

Charlie lifted his head, his eyes gleaming with a very basic hunger as he planted his knees on the bed, aimed, and plunged into her.

With a meteoric scattering of tiny stars in a field of velvet darkness, Tara Washington finally understood what all the buzz was about.

“Y
ou're so beautiful . . .” Hot words whispered in her ear and groping fingers nudged Darcy awake. “Come on, now.” She felt bone dry and exhausted, but he was on her again, trying, trying, trying to feel something for himself.

For the first two rounds Darcy had been in the game, shrieking and laughing as Kevin devoured her, but now she was satiated and exhausted and she just wanted to be left alone for some sleep.

“I'm tired,” Darcy said, turning her head away from the light filtering in through the plantation blinds. Morning light, and she'd barely slept at all.

She pulled the thin Ralph Lauren summer quilt up to her chin. “Go to sleep, Kevin,” she said, with the authority of a stern mother. “Just sleep.”

He didn't answer or stir, so she figured he was following orders. And it was about time. He'd been a royal pain in the ass through the whole party. Granted, she had asked him not to be falling-down drunk, but this wild zeal was way over the top.

He'd been unusually animated when they walked down the beach, chattering on about his plans for the bar and how his old man was sitting on a gold mine. Some of it was so rapid-fire, “I said this, then he said that, then I told him no, and he just shakes his head . . .” that Darcy gave up trying to follow it.

Then, just when Darcy felt the urge to stop and take advantage of the expanse of stars overhead and the tropical breeze in their hair, he insisted on chasing her, tagging her. Not a fan of stupid games, Darcy had refused until he'd creeped her out with a story about a body that had floated up onto the beach, not far from the point near Bikini Beach.

“The detectives did all this DNA testing and checked fingerprints and stuff, but they never did identify that stiff. Some old guy. Fish thinks it was Jimmy Hoffa.”

“That's awful.” The breeze lifted her hair and Darcy tamped it down, searching the velvet darkness of the water's surface for some clue. “You know, Kev, if you're trying to get me in the mood, the dead body thing doesn't work for me.”

“It's just a story.” He stared ahead, walking with that sexy swagger, his jeans hanging so low on his spare body Darcy always thought it was a wonder they didn't slide right down to his ankles. “Doesn't it scare you at all? Make you just want to snuggle up close so I can protect you from”—he turned to her, one brow lifting in a sinister scowl—“evil stuff.”

“Oh, come off it.”

“They say it snuck up on him from behind . . . like this!” He lunged toward her, trying to clamp his hands around her waist.

“No! Get off!” She scooted away from him, running backward. “Cut it out!”

“He tried to get away,” he said, jogging after her. “He ran, just like you, but it was no use . . .”

“Kevin! Stop!” she shouted.

But he tore after her, leering with wild eyes, chasing her all the way down the beach . . .

God, he'd been in a bizarre mood tonight. All that energy on the beach, and then in bed he'd been insatiable, impossible to please even though he was hard as a rock. She glanced over at his sleeping form, watching as he suddenly twitched, his shoulders seizing.

Edging away from him under the covers, she saw it happen again, the twitch, then a quiver.

Cocaine . . . it had to be. Darcy was a neophyte in the world of drug use, but she'd been around enough of it at parties to know the act. This behavior was not the result of that batch of purple passions she'd stirred up.

In the warming light of the sunrise, she watched him, wondering why he couldn't just be himself and have a good time. Didn't he realize that they were going to have the perfect life together if he would just relax and let things happen? She should have known the only way he could make it through the party without getting drunk would be to get some other kind of boost. But coke . . . so addictive and so expensive.

She hoped it would just be a one-time thing.

Fighting off a shudder of apprehension, she moved to the window, pressed her nose to the screen, and pulled the white sheers in around her naked body. The party hadn't been a total success for Kevin and her. At least Tara and Charlie had gotten some quality time together. The last time she saw them, they were headed off to the hot tub, and she was sure they enjoyed their deluxe accommodations in the Love Mansion.

The great irony of the Love Mansion . . . no love for the Loves.

Outside, birds were chirping now, and the air smelled fresh with a mixture of clover and pine and sweet rose. Years ago her mother had been so captivated by the rose garden here, but now the lush, ripe blooms seemed just another symbol of the Loves' overabundant cache of riches.

Behind her, fabric swished and his feet hit the floor.

“Hey, you.” He came up behind her and nudged her with his hips. He slid his hands up along her rib cage and cupped her bare breasts. “Just one more time.”

“Sun's rising, Kev.”
And apparently, so are you.

“Do you want to go down to the pool, maybe watch the sun come up?” she suggested, not turning away from the window.

“I've got something better in mind.”

“Look, can you give it a rest, Kev? I'm beat.”

“You can sleep later,” he whispered, then pressed his lips to her ear to make wet, smacking noises.

Like a dog, she thought, wanting to swat him away as another sound penetrated the aura of annoyance. The purr of a car engine. “Who is that?”

Probably some gawking tourist again. She went to the window and flipped down the blinds, peering through the slats at the shiny slate gray BMW in the driveway. Kevin stood behind her, rubbing up against her, pinching her nipples so hard it was painful. Two doors were flung open, and on this side she noticed a young woman with blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. A nosy little bitch.

Pulling away from Kevin, Darcy yanked the window open and yelled down. “You're trespassing!”

The woman pointed up at her. The driver turned and glanced up, shielding his eyes with one hand. She recognized the gesture, the way he moved. It was her father.

“Shit!” Darcy slammed the blinds shut.

“Don't worry about them.” Kevin pressed against her. “We've got something more important to do.”

“Tell that to my father,” Darcy said, stomping across the room to find some clothes and stop Daddy dearest before he trotted upstairs and found Tara and Charlie in his bedroom.

 

“Good morning, Daddy.” Darcy leaned up on tiptoes to kiss him, knowing that she smelled of booze and sex, not an image Bud Love would want to associate with his only daughter. As she hugged him, she glanced over his shoulder to the patio, wondering if Lupe and the other housekeepers had been outside to pick up the beer bottles—dead soldiers, as Kevin called them—that lined the poolside. Not that she wasn't allowed to entertain here, but it wouldn't help Dad's disposition when he found a few empty bottles from his wine cellar littering the lanai.

“Hey, pumpkin. You know Stephanie, from the office.” Bud Love's voice was smooth and breezy, but Darcy could smell the guilt on him, guilt mixed with self-righteousness. Stephanie from the office was obviously his new squeeze, and although Darcy wasn't surprised that Dad was fooling around, it was unusual for him to be so brazen.

Mom would have a fit when she found out he'd brought a girl to the Hamptons house, and Darcy would make sure she found out. In her opinion, this was not the time for her father to be fooling around. The media kept reporting about charges swirling around Bud Love—corporate fraud and embezzlement and conspiracy. Darcy didn't even try to follow all the finger-pointing, but right now, Dad's first priority should have been straightening out the facts and clearing himself of the charges.

Instead, he was dicking around with a secretary at the beach?

“We thought that, since we have to work through the Fourth, we might as well work at the beach,” her father offered.

Darcy eyed the blonde through sly, lowered lids. Steph was young, not much older than Darcy, and she wore a yellow and orange sundress—an Oscar de la Renta, Darcy suspected—with tight spaghetti straps and a low-cut bodice that showed off ample cleavage. Not exactly office attire. “By my calendar, the Fourth was last week,” Darcy said, staring pointedly at Stephanie's cleavage. “But I bet it was getting
really
hot in that office.”

“Who's this?” her father asked, nodding over her shoulder.

Steph's lips curled in a naughty smile. “The boy in the window?”

Darcy turned, relieved to see that Kevin had pulled on his jeans. “You remember Kevin McGowan, Dad? His father owns Coney's on the Beach.”

“Is that so?” The sour pucker didn't leave her father's lips as he took in Kevin, bare chested, worn jeans, and scruffy blond hair in need of a trim. At least he shook hands with Kevin. “Coney's is one of our favorite places,” Dad said.

Darcy could hear the lie in his voice; he'd never liked the restaurant, and he didn't like Kevin. He'd delivered that verdict years ago, telling her the McGowans were a clan of drunks, suspected of involvement with the Irish Mob. “Just keep your distance,” he'd warned her one day as he was working on his laptop and cell phone by the pool.

Which had made her pursue Kevin even more intently.

Now, as Bud Love offered up a lame story of a “high-priority” workload—a ruse intended to whitewash the fact that he'd brought a girl to the Hamptons house—Darcy sensed the shifting tides of power. The big, bad McGowans were going strong in the restaurant business, while Dad and the other partners at the firm were being subpoenaed for investigations.

“Darcy, pumpkin . . .” Bud Love strained to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Can we talk privately for a moment?”

They stepped into the cavernous living room, where Darcy noticed a cobweb swaying from the stained-glass piece. “Now, you know I don't mind you having friends over.” His voice echoed, and the emptiness of it all made Darcy hug herself to ward off a shiver. “But really, this young man is not in your league, sweetheart.”

“You don't know him, Dad.”
You don't know how perfect we are together . . . what he and I are going to become . . . the business we're going to build together.

“I know enough. There's no future for you with a McGowan.”

“And what kind of future do you have with Stephanie the sycophant? Or am I not supposed to ask?” Darcy didn't usually shoot direct questions at him; their relationship was layered in years of her playing Daddy's Little Girl while he rose to the Daddy role, lavishing her with ponies and private school and cars. The good-girl role had always worked for her, but with Kevin she found herself in need of something Daddy couldn't deliver. It felt strange to take a swipe at her father, strange, but oddly empowering. “You seem to be forgetting your own standards, Daddy. It's always everyone else who has to jump through hoops,” she said. “Jump high, higher! Every time you raise the bar, the rest of us go crazy trying to please you.”

“I maintain high standards for myself and everyone I deal with,” Bud Love said, his voice at a controlled pitch. “And right now, you are over the line, young lady.”

Darcy felt her spine stiffen. Her father should know a thing or two about stepping over the line; by all accounts he'd pushed more than a few legal and moral boundaries lately. She was sorely tempted to lash out at him now, remind him of the colossal mistakes he'd made. There'd be some dark, vengeful joy in pointing out how he'd fucked things up royally for their family . . . but she bit back the words, knowing that would bring them to the lowest, grittiest moment of their relationship, to an undignified, hellish exchange without redemption.

And as she fought for control their attention shifted to the commotion in the hallway as Lupe appeared to offer everyone breakfast, Charlie and Tara came in from the pool, and Lindsay groaned about needing coffee.

Turning away to glance toward the hall, Darcy shrugged. “Excuse me, Daddy, but I have a few guests to attend to.”

And Bud Love, always a stickler for manners, didn't even try to stop her.

“We'll have breakfast out on the lanai, Lupe,” Darcy announced, sliding her hand around Kevin's naked waist and leading the way out to the flower-strewn patio.

Lindsay looked like hell, pale and shaky, and Austin was noticeably absent. Kevin's eyes were bloodshot and Darcy wasn't at the top of her game, but as she caught a glimpse of herself in the glass of the French doors she was reassured that the long night didn't show in her clear blue eyes or smooth skin. Only Tara and Charlie sparkled with that natural glow that probably had something to do with sexual satisfaction and a slice of happiness.

As she reached up to pluck an orchid from the trellis, Darcy felt a slight twinge of envy. Tara had found something good; Darcy wanted it for herself.

But we'll get there,
Darcy thought as she gave Kevin a sniff of the flower and tucked it behind her left ear. She and Kevin were going to get their slice of the pie.

She glanced over the low hedge, to the table by the pool where Dad and Stephanie had decided to take breakfast. Things were changing, and her father had to get with the program.

You'd better start liking Kevin, Daddy,
she thought.
Because after your business goes down the tubes, Kev is going to be my savior.