The Red Diary Page 20

  "By the way, I spoke to Phil yesterday. About Jeanne."

  Nick's eyes widened, making her regret interrupting romance with real life. "You're kidding me, right?"

  "No, but don't worry, I didn't bring you into it. I told him I saw him with another woman at the party."

  "I wasn't worried about me. I was worried about you."

  "Why?"

  He raised his eyebrows. "Well, I'm betting he didn't appreciate you sticking your nose into his business."

  She smiled in concession. "As a matter of fact, he didn't. But I couldn't know he was cheating and just let it go on without doing something."

  "What'd he say?"

  "He tried to act like it was no big deal, told me I was taking it too seriously."

  "I've always thought," he began, lifting his glass for a drink, "that life's complicated enough without getting involved in other people's problems."

  He met her eyes when he was through, but she only smiled. "Sometimes," she answered, "other people really need help, and maybe they don't even know it until someone else does get involved."

  Before Nick could reply, the quiet middle-aged captain approached from the rear of the sleek white boat, lowering a lidded wicker basket before them. "Your sunset picnic," he said. smiling in a way that made Lauren think he truly enjoyed his job, or maybe he sensed the same romance in the air that she did. Either way, she returned his smile, then shifted it to Nick. Inside the basket, they found grapes, cheeses, finger sandwiches, fresh sliced fruit, and tiny tea cookies. She laid it all out between them on the checkered cloth provided, then sampled the brie on a toasted cracker. "Mmm," she said. "Good." "What is it?" Nick asked, spying the soft cheese.

  She grinned, noticing he'd gone straight for a chunk of simple cheddar. "Brie. Want a bite?"

  "No." He plopped a hunk of bright gold cheese into his mouth, and she couldn't help thinking he'd probably much rather be eating a burger, so it touched her to know he'd organized all this for her.

  She smeared the brie onto another cracker, then held it out. ''Try it." He still looked doubtful, until she chided him with her eyes, then said something he'd once said to her. "Don't be a baby."

  He smirked playfully and let her slip the cracker into his mouth. She watched him chew, swallow, then wash it down with a long drink of wine.

  "So?"

  "I think I'll stick to the stuff I'm used to." "Well, I think it's delicious."

  Amusement edged his eyes. "That's why you should eat it."

  The trip continued with talk of the past-little things they remembered from being around each other as children, Lauren recalling that lanky boy on the basketball court who had turned so broad and muscular now. They talked about Isadora, and Lauren teasingly made Nick promise he'd try to be nicer to her. They talked about Davy, and he still wouldn't give an inch on how his brother had gotten hurt, but just like each time they'd discussed him, she saw the love in his eyes. She knew that, as before, he didn't realize he was opening up to her or he would have stopped, so she never said anything to remind him. They emptied the bottle of Chardonnay and opened another, and a pleasant tinge of intoxication made her bold enough to playfully lower grapes into his waiting mouth.

  The sea breeze whipped at her thin wrap-around skirt as she loosely hugged her knees, and when things turned quiet, she glanced to the wide, empty beach to their right, then the horizon to their left. The sun sank downward, leaving a glorious Florida sunset to streak across an otherwise placid sky.

  "Is this what it was like the night Davy named your company?"

  Nick studied the horizon for a moment, then turned to her with a soft expression. "Kind of."

  They stayed quiet as the glowing ball of orange descended over the ocean's edge, and when it disappeared, the sky took on hazier shades of mauve and powder blue. Gazing up at eyes made darker by the dusky air, she leaned gently into him, and he eased one arm around her. "Nick, the last couple of days have been ... really good." She was usually more eloquent, but didn't know quite how else to say what she was feeling.

  He gazed down at her, but quickly lowered his eyes.

  "Yeah," he said in little more than a whisper. She knew he wasn't accustomed to such admissions, even as simple as it was-- so, just like this. whole night, it meant more to her for the effort she knew it required.

  When the sailboat returned to its slip an hour later, she thought she should feel sleepy from the wine she'd consumed, but she remained anxious about what would come next. The wine had relaxed her but done nothing to diminish the sensual energy that coursed through her veins whenever she was in Nick's presence.

  Before they left the boat, they shared a slow, lingering kiss that filled her with familiar longings. "You wanna take me home to bed now?" she whispered, their lips barely parted. The captain tied the boat off a few yards behind them.

  "Oh yeah," he said just as softly, and they soon thanked the captain and started across the dock toward the parking lot, hand in hand.

  "Or"-she turned to look up at him with a playful smile-"is the bed too boring for you?"

  A hint of fire burned in his eyes. "Not with you in it, Princess."

  Lauren had developed a fairy-tale sort of idea about what the sex might be like now. After their gentle kisses on the boat, after the easy discussion they'd shared over their picnic, she imagined it the same way she'd envisioned it as a naive young girl: slow and gentle, with romantic music playing somewhere in the background.

  But it wasn't meant to be. By the time Nick's Jeep pulled into her driveway, they both sped for the door, and she fumbled with her keys as he wrapped around her from behind.

  "God, I want you," he breathed as they fell across her bed a moment later. Things went fast and frantic, their moans filling the air, and for those spine-tingling moments, her world became only sensation-Nick's mouth, Nick's hands, Nick inside her. It was only afterward that the quiet, gentle part finally happened, when she least expected it. He lay on top of her, their bodies still joined, and he grazed one palm slowly over her shoulder, breast, hip, thigh, then back again. Burying his hand in her hair, he kissed her-soft and tender.

  Minutes later, he departed the bed with murmurings of the bathroom. And he might leave now, she warned herself. He might walk back in here, reach for his blue jeans, and go home.

  And it's okay if he does. It's okay because you can't expect him to stay every night, and no matter what happens now, tonight has been special.

  She closed her eyes and girded herself for that. But then she felt him slide back beneath the covers, pressing his naked body against hers, just before he whispered in her ear, "Tomorrow morning, you're making breakfast."

  "So what are you making us?" Nick asked as the sun came blasting through the half-moon window. "I'm hungry." He dropped down to nibble at one breast, pleased when a sexy groan escaped her.

  "For a guy who wants breakfast," she breathed, "you're not exactly giving me any incentive to leave."

  One final kiss to her puckered nipple and he brought his face back up next to hers. "You're right. I'm finished. Go get us some food."

  She laughed at his insistence. "How does French toast sound?"

  "Great."

  "Might take a while. Sure you won't miss me too much?"

  "I'll miss you," he said, "but for French toast, it'll be worth it."

  She rose naked from the bed and padded to a sliding closet door, where she retrieved that same short silky beige robe he'd first seen her in, making him think of how things had changed since then.

  He drifted back to sleep while she was gone and, before he knew it, she was lowering the tray over him, then crawling back into bed. "Looks good," he said, easing himself up, never telling her how much he liked having her so close as they ate. He'd never had breakfast in bed until Lauren had come along, but now he saw the appeal -something about it extended the intimacy of the night before. Of course, that set off a warning signal in his head-a lot of things that'd happened over the course of their date
had set off warning signals. But liking this, even liking her, meant nothing, he told himself. This was just fun, sex, and better than sleeping alone-that was all.

  ''Well, I'm having lunch with Carolyn today, and doing a little shopping first, too ... so. as much as I hate to drag myself back out of bed, I'd better get moving."

  Her plans reminded him it was Saturday and that he had plans, as well. "I've gotta work on next week's schedule today and let my guys know where they need to be. Then, after that, I promised Davy I'd take him to a matinee, and Elaine's garage door needs a paint job." He hoped she wouldn't ask him to come back tonight. He did have a lot to do, and besides, it was definitely time to send out a message that he wasn't going to become a permanent fixture in her life.

  Thankfully, she merely replied with, "Sounds like a busy day."

  They finished eating, then Nick offered her the shower first, tired from a week of going nonstop. The next time he saw her, she was hovering over him in acute little sundress. "I have to run, but hang out as long as you want. You look sleepy," she added.

  "Well, this hot blond chick I know has been costing me a lot of sleep lately."

  She smiled, then leaned over to kiss him. "Bye, Nick," she said warmly.

  He watched as she moved toward the door, her dress swinging around her shapely thighs. "I'll ... " What? He'd what? " ... talk to you soon," he finished.

  After she'd gone, he lay in bed, willing himself to drift back to sleep, but his mind was too awake now, too alert. He listened to the garage door go up, then close again. He listened to the quiet of the house. He thought about how quiet the house hadn't been on several occasions last night, the sounds of their moans replacing the silence. Damn, they were good together in bed.

  And maybe in other places, too, he had to reluctantly admit. He'd enjoyed their cruise last night-although he'd been glad to leave behind the subject of Phil, something he felt bad for having told her about. He'd always steered clear of getting involved in other people's problems, since he didn't want anyone butting into his business, either. And while he knew Lauren was only involving herself because she cared about Phil and Jeanne, he suspected she'd be disappointed in the end. He didn't know Phil well, but he'd never struck Nick as a remorseful kind of guy. And men who cheated were usually real good at justifying it somehow.

  The parts that had come after that had been better. Revisiting those days before his mother died, then sharing a sunset with the little girl who'd grown into a gorgeous woman, had been sort of like coming full circle from his childhood. He'd told himself repeatedly that he'd better take control of this situation, that he'd better let her know where he stood, but it was difficult. There'd been moments when things were going so well, talk coming so easy, that he wished he could tell her he knew about her fantasies. That was a hundred kinds of impossible, of course, but he'd started yearning to share the fantasies with her, in more than just a solitary, distant way.

  A thick rush of guilt poured through Nick as he glanced toward the bedroom door. He was alone, and her book of sexy fantasies still rested right down the hall in her office.

  But he couldn't do it. He no longer wanted to hurt her, and a book like that ... well, he'd known from the first glimpse that it came from the deepest, most secret place in her soul and that he was trespassing in an unforgivable way.

  And yet ... he longed for more of that secret side of her. He wanted to know more about the heated thoughts that made his princess tick. He longed for the power to bring more of those fantasies to life, to give her things no other man ever would or could, to watch her eyes light with the magic of living out her deepest desires. That quickly, the temptation pounded rhythmically through his blood. The lure of the forbidden wouldn't let him rest, wouldn't let him say no.

  Sometimes it was almost easy to forget she didn't know he was reading her fantasies, easy to feel it was simply something they were sharing. In this moment, it was easy to tell himself that if she knew, she wouldn't stop him, she'd want him to read them, want him to know exactly how to please her best.

  And maybe he was just like one of those men who cheated, because the longer he lay there thinking about it, the more ways he found to justify it ...

  Until it became something he simply couldn't fight anymore. Until he finally pushed back the covers and got out of bed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I lie naked on a bed, nestled in lilac velvet, a profusion of plump amethyst pillows cushioning my head. Diaphanous white fabric drapes the canopy above me, vines of ivy twisting randomly through. The room is filled with more lush colors and luxurious furnishings, but the bed is a world unto itself, a private haven. a secret garden.

  A man enters through tall double doors edged in gilt.

  Like me, he is nude-his chest is muscular; his shoulders broad, his skin tan. He walks like a man who fears nothing.

  Sitting down next to me, he places a package in my hands, a gift. I tug at the purple velvet ribbon until it falls away. then lift the box's white lid. Inside. I find three silk scarves of deep violet, so smooth to the touch that I shiver. Glancing down, I see that my companion has grown fully erect watching me unwrap his offering.

  I reach over and slowly take him in my grasp. Beneath my fingers. he is steel sheathed in silk. His eyes close in silent pleasure, and I want to give him more, so I loop one of the scarves around him and slide silk upon silk. up and down his length, until he groans.

  "No more, .. he finally says, and I back farther onto the bed, sensing a shift in power I haven't the will to protest.

  He straddles me, his penis arcing flat and hard across my stomach as he reaches in the box for another scarf, then gently lifts my right hand to the railing above my head. As he secures my wrist, my heart races with the awareness of my own captivity, and when both wrists are swathed in silk and bound to the bed, I know I've relinquished all control. Perhaps I should be afraid, yet my body pulses with anticipation, accompanied by a deep, resounding trust.

  Rising to his knees, he reaches for the third scarf lying tangled between us. He bunches it in his fist and meets my gaze, making me wonder what he'll do.

  Studying my breasts, he stretches the scarf taut between his hands, then skims the tight silk over the sensitive crests, stiffening them further as sensation ripples through me like aftershocks from an earthquake.

  He watches my reaction carefully, and only when every quiver of pleasure has abated does he slowly drag the entire length of violet silk between my thighs, its folds teasing my aching flesh. I shudder beneath the silken caress, the aftershocks more powerful this time.

  The silk scarf remains stretched between us like a threat and a promise, and I realize it s growing nearer when it covers my eyes, tightening to blackness as it s tied about my head. Completely in his control now, unable to see what will come next, a thin thread of fear twines around me-but I quickly break free of it, still trusting, anticipating, my body quaking with desire. And then it strikes all at once-my nipples tingle with fiery heat as he laves and sucks them, and his hand dips between my legs, stroking where I'm wet. I cry out, but haven't yet adjusted to the onslaught of pleasure when he thrusts himself deep inside me. His fingers still thrum between us as he drives into me, and his mouth never leaves my breasts. Every ion of my body is shaken with a pleasure so intense it rocks the earth beneath me, takes hold of my very being, leaving me nothing but complete surrender. Then we come together, both moaning, and the last, most brutal wave of aftershocks echoes through my blood, until all goes still.

  And then his hands are there, . gently releasing my wrists before he pulls the scarf from my head. He tosses them all aside, and settles next to me on the velvet, taking me in his arms, leaving me captive to nothing but emotion.

  Guilt warred with pleasure as Nick envisioned himself as the man in the scene. But after having gotten his fix, guilt edged pleasure from the battlefield. Damn it, he shouldn't be reading this. He'd known it from the start, and he cursed himself for his inability to stop. No
w that temptation was past, all his rationalizations died, and he couldn't fathom how much it would hurt her if she knew. His stomach churned with shame.

  Closing the book, he rose to return it to the shelf. As he eased it back into place, though, something prevented it from sliding in. He lifted the red volume and spied ... the wilted pink rose he'd given her, its petals pressed between folded layers of wax paper. His heart swelled. It must've fallen from the journal when he'd taken it down. She'd saved it. And she'd saved it here. As he picked it up, he tried to tell himself the lump welling in his throat was just more guilt, or worry because he had to put it back now, and what if she'd pressed it on some particular page like his mother used to do and would realize it'd been

  moved? But deep inside, he knew he was just denying the more profound emotions he couldn't quite face. He sat back down, letting the book fall open in his lap, and he thumbed through until he found the fantasy where it made the most sense to keep the rose-the one about the rose. He placed the flattened flower at the book's center and closed it tight, and as he got up to return it once and for all, he tried not to feel so much. Tried not to ask himself how she could've saved it, after the way he'd left her that night. Tried not to ask himself what she possibly could've seen in him then that gave her hope, made her think he was human. Tried not to feel the strange outpouring of gratitude-and something deeper-melting through him. After getting hold of himself, he moved to Lauren's desk and was just about to flick off the lamp when he caught sight of his name on a piece of paper. Snatching it up, he found the name of his company, his address ... and some numbers that didn't quite make sense. It looked like an invoice-in fact, the jobs listed were the same as the invoices he'd filled out last week at O'Hanlon's but it wasn't his invoice, and the charges weren't exactly right.

  Puzzling over it, he lowered himself back into the chair. He studied the paper closely, examining each piece of information. The invoice contained his logo, but the billing information was typed, whereas he sent them in handwritten. It was dated the previous week, as it should've been, and he decided perhaps someone at Ash had transcribed his invoice into a computer program for easier handling since he was so behind the times.