Anyone Here (3 page)

“Yes?”

“I can describe the programming. I can tell you about the scene-setting, mode enhancement, and assigning limits. I can’t tell you about the marketing and packaging and distribution. That’s what I have strategist and marketers and shipping consultants and analysts for. Nor can I describe the actual play. I don’t spend time on them once they’re on the market. If I did that, I wouldn’t be envisioning my next one. I’ve got one hell of an idea right at the moment. Want to hear it?”

She’d moved somehow, bridging the distance between them in a skim of motion, snatching his spa robe with the umbrella tip as she went. And she’d done it without one hint of stride, and little time. Jake blinked against the impossibility of her approach, even as he got a perfect view up her legs. Damn. If he wasn’t mistaken, she wore a pair of old-fashioned bloomers, complete with a little black bow right at her…

“Get dressed. Show me.” She dropped the spa robe into his lap.

Jake sighed heavily and grabbed the garment before springing to a squat, gaining his feet beneath him. From there he slowly rose to his six-foot, three inches. Two hundred two lbs. Perfectly sculpted. Toned. Fit. He didn’t have to flex, but something perverse just made it happen. She was just as dainty and petite as he’d suspected. That little black hat would fit beneath his chin. If she were closer. He watched the cobalt blue of her eyes disappear for a few moments before it was back. As if she’d closed them for a lengthy blink. And then she licked her lips. He didn’t have to guess that. He watched it. He only hoped the slight jerk of his frame wasn’t as visual as it felt.

CHAPTER THREE

Jake led the way. It wasn’t a far walk from the pool room to his private domain. He’d named it Walsh Command Central. And then he’d trademarked the name just for grins. The place was one gigantic space, with differing floor levels accessed on any side, black matte, sound-proof walls, chrome fixtures, and lighting that could be dimmed by voice control. The area was usually jumping with activity since he’d filled the space with a plethora of the largest flat-screen televisions he could order, hanging like wall dividers, all mounted at optimum viewing level; the bottom frames starting just at knee level for a couch potato gaming junkie. He knew. He had configurations of couches and chairs strategically placed on every level for that reason. They were great for making sure he had the right effect for his creations.

The room contained four 1200 watt, 7-speaker sound systems, installed in the walls, every gaming system available - in the latest versions, and…heck, he’d even designed a special room for all of his archaic computers, including the ones from boyhood. That area held every facet of his career – every idea he’d come up with, the story boards, the design efforts that ensued…everything – the successes as well as the failures.

Walsh Command Central also had an alcove on the top level, set up as a mini apartment for the times he lived there, filled with inspiration and adrenaline. The bed wasn’t super king-sized, but he didn’t think they’d need the space. Then again, every single one of his couches could be put to use, if need be.

He jogged up two half-flights of steps, disdaining the polished chrome rails running along the walls. He didn’t need handrails. Yet. And if he got too damn old and decrepit to use the stairs, he had two elevators. Those rails were installed for visual effect since they reflected the tiled floor and elongated the space. They were necessary for home insurance reasons, too, in the event anyone slipped. He got the instantaneous notion that they’d work perfect with handcuffs. He envisioned several bondage scenes he was going to incorporate into his next video game. Featuring her. Or an avatar very like her.

He knew she followed behind him. He didn’t check. He
felt
her. She didn’t speak. He returned the favor. For the moment. Silence was its own reward. It was also a tad odd now that he thought of it. He couldn’t even hear her steps. His wouldn’t make much noise, he was barefoot…but those little ankle boots of hers had heels. They should be making some sound. Jake cocked his head slightly to listen as they neared the double doors crafted of smoked glass, etched with WALSH COMMAND CENTRAL in huge letters that sparkled in the right lighting.
Nope
. Couldn’t hear her. Not a whisper of sound betrayed her presence. He sure hoped the cameras were getting this.

He swiveled and she almost ran into him. Almost. He watched her jerk to a stop just before her nose hit him right between his pecs. Her proximity raised goose flesh all along his skin…and something else. Something he’d never felt before. Like an elevation of every cell in his body. As if there was an electric zone between them. It was a weird sensation. Truly weird.

 “You’ve some reason for stopping?” she asked his chest.

“Before we enter my domain – my
private
domain – we need to get some clarification.”

“Why?”

She was still talking to his chest. That was okay with him. He was actually having trouble breathing. Every inhalation contained some aromatic essence that added emphasis to the elevated awareness happening to him. If she actually looked up at him, she’d probably see it, and she had enough put-downs for him already without adding what had to be lust to it. Or, was this lust? He couldn’t remember feeling anything like it. But it had to be lust, or something just as primitive. Feral. Strange. Wholly remarkable.

He cleared his throat. “So I can decide how to proceed.”

“Proceed?”

“Are you looking for something specific…or are you on a fishing expedition?”

“Why?”

She asked it to his chest again. He lifted it with the force of his inhaled breath before letting it out slowly. That was stupid. Every ion seemed filled with her particular fragrance, and he’d just gotten a lungful of it. He could swear bells were ringing in each ear. And that was just more weirdness. He’d come up against female sirens before; partied with women blessed with sensual allure; been matched against women sending sexual stimulus with every breath.

This Cassandra had them all beat.

“Because I can take you directly to what you want…or I can wade through a lot of fishing line while I try to figure it out. And that carrot is powerfully tempting, Cassie.”

“Cassandra.”

She corrected him, using three, perfectly enunciated syllables. Again. It was sent with just enough emphasis at his chest that his heart stuttered. More weirdness. He should probably have closed the robe before tying the belt, but she’d acted like his physique wasn’t worth a second glance and that had smarted. That just made something perverse in him want to show off a little more skin. And that just got him more of this odd sensation from her proximity to his bareness.

“Don’t you think that’s a tad formal, Love? I mean…let’s recap, shall we? We’ve got a quick stop in here and then we’re heading right to pleasure central. Let me emphasize that:
Pleasure
central. And really. It’ll be hard to slide my tongue along your skin if I have to do it while saying that mouthful, Cas…san…dra.”

Her chin came up and those cobalt eyes seared right into him through the lace veil. Or felt like they did.

“Who said anything about your pleasure?”

Jake lifted a hand and pulled at his earlobe as nonchalantly as he could while he considered her. And then he puckered his lips with the reply. “Oooh. Ouch. You know, Cassie, you’re not the only female on the planet. I can have any woman I want. Any. All I have to do is call. And not even very loudly.”

“I’m not just any woman, Jacob.”

He snickered. “I’ll bite.”

Her lips curved into the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. Or could remember. He pondered them as he considered going in for a kiss, and then stifled the urge.
Not yet, Jake my man. Not yet…

“And you can’t have me. No one can.”

“Whoa. Do I ever love a challenge. How did you know?”

She tipped her head back and trilled the laugh again. A lengthy one, her mouth open and showing off pearly white teeth and what looked like…fangs. Real, honest-to-goodness fangs. They looked rather sharp, too. Jake instantly responded, the reaction moving him back a full step. That was so disconcerting, he almost grabbed for one of the hall rails beside the doors in defense.

Her head came back down, her mouth closed again to any feature he must have imagined, and then she licked her bottom lip. His entire frame pulsed at that one little thing. The slight glimpse of a tongue. Sliding onto those ruby-red lips.

“You’re very amusing, Jacob. Very.”

“Is that a mark in my favor?” The words sounded raspy, probably because they came through a dry throat. He swallowed to fix it, but it was more a gulp.

“Oh. It’s one of several. I assure you.”

Wow. Double wow.
His skin started to react at her answer, sending an itching sensation all along every limb. Almost like it was craving her and pissed off at the denial, too.

“Now, can we get back to our business?”

“And I already asked. What…do you want? Specifically?”

“How did you know about Dane?”

He’d almost turned around to press his thumb against the ID fingerprint panel built into the handle that allowed entrance to just three people: Him, and his closest frat buds, Daniel and Sam. Those same guys were supposed to control access to him since they alternated weeks as heads of his security. Tonight was a farce. The red-head looking at his chest was proof. They were all still getting bonuses.

“Dane?” he repeated.

“Yes…Dane. You forget already? I’m here to find out about
Daemon Bellus.
Especially Dane. He’s the Viking vampire character from your game, the one who goes into a berserker phase and rips through opponents. Him.”

Jake blew a sigh hard enough it lifted his hair from where it had dried on his forehead. “My Viking is named Dane because it sounded sexy, if you can believe that. I originally wanted Eric, but my marketing gurus vetoed it. And let’s get some of the jargon straight. Dane is not a character. None of them are. They’re avatars. Berserker is a gaming mode not a phase. And I got news for you, Cassie. I made him up.”

She looked confused. At least, her mouth did. And she didn’t even balk at the use of his nickname for her.
Sweet.
He just might be getting to her. And then she shook her head as if reading his mind and negating it.

“No. I don’t believe it. It’s too perfect. Too close.”

“To what?” he asked.

“What of the Slavic character — I mean avatar?”

“Which one? The Hun?”

“The lady.”

“Oh. That would be Natalya. What about her?”

“She rips through people’s chests to grab their hearts out. How did you know that?”

“Pretty cool stuff, huh? I made that up too. She’s an invention. They all are. The ninja chick, the Hun, the inside trader guy in the navy pin-striped suit…even my Canadian Mountie. They’re all from in here.” He tapped his forehead.

She looked unconvinced. At least her mouth did. And he was getting tired of basing everything on that little bit of her face.

“Is that what your little visit is all about? Copyright issues? Because if I’ve tromped on somebody’s trademark, you’ll have to call the legal office during business hours. My lawyers check and triple-check everything. There’s not one reference to anyone or anything real, dead, or already fictionalized.”

“You made them up? Truly?”

“You’re joking, right? Or…are you one of those insane gamers? The kind that gets so fixated on a game, they actually start thinking its real? ‘Cause it’s not. It’s a game. It’s fake. Nobody gets killed. Nobody turns into an immortal creature. Only crazy people think it’s real.”

“Don’t offend me.”

“Look who’s offending. Let’s get this straight right here and right now, Babe. Nothing in my games is real. Nothing. Ever. I even design the settings. Castles. Swamps. Cemeteries. Wastelands. All of them. And the avatars? Not real either. Sorry. The Viking isn’t real. He’s a vampire, and everyone knows they’re not real. Neither are gargoyles. Werewolves. Demons. Trolls. Angels. Fairies. Dragons. Aliens…hell. None of it. And let’s just face facts. Berserkers are a thing of the past, too, if they even existed then.”

“I said, don’t offend—“

She poked her index finger into his chest and the entire world went off-kilter. The hallway rocked. Swayed. Lightning-type fire slammed through him and then it rocketed right back out, leaving him standing rooted to the tiles, breathless and shocked, and tingling all over with excitement. And that was just from one fingertip?

CHAPTER FOUR

“Whoa. Babe. Did you just feel that?” he asked.

“Hush,” she replied.

“That had to be an earthquake. In New Hampshire? That’ll hit the news. I’m talking major quake here. Close to seven in magnitude.”

“I said…hush.”

She ended her words with a “shhh” hiss. And he actually obeyed. It had something to do with how he was still sucking for breath, but probably more with how she lifted her hands into the space between them and worked at the four little buttons at the right wrist of her lace glove. He watched it with complete absorption and absolute anticipation.

Wow
. That was even weirder. He was salivating and panting, while other parts elongated and hardened until the confine of sharkskin trunks pressed back in reply. And for what? A glimpse of the hand beneath a glove? What the hell? Jake was used to women dropping everything in his presence – including their underwear. Harems of women. He’d seen everything and experienced more. And yet this Cassandra chick had him glued to the sight of little pearl buttons leaving their loops. He didn’t even dare blink.

She pulled her fingers out, one at a time, and held the glove in her left hand while rubbing her naked thumb pad all along her fingertips. Jake licked his lips. Stumbled through a shaky breath. Groaned inwardly. Her hand was finely boned, the fingers long and slender, and she had soft-looking, really white skin. She wasn’t the type to frequent nail salons, either…not for the fake nails anyway. Her nails curved along the tops of each finger, and there wasn’t a speck of polish on any of them.