Fire & Desire (Hero Series) (3 page)

Mysterious eyes met curious ones.

“And what’s that?” She felt breathless.

“How your body felt next to mine.” His eyes issued a challenge to
hers.

She opened her mouth to deny it.

His finger outlining her lips halted her words.

“God, you have the sexiest mouth.” His finger traced her lips. “It
blows my mind the things I can imagine you doing with it.”

What?
she thought.

As if he heard the question, he placed his lips next to her ear as
before. “You taking me into it. I can almost feel it hot and wet around me.”

At that moment, his words conjured up an image in her mind, and
she could picture the same. It amazed her how she stood there allowing him to
say such things to her. At any other time, she would’ve been insulted and
pushed the guy away.
Why not this man?

The plane glided past gray clouds of night, a small patch of
darkness showed through the small portal window, shocking Tiffany out of her
thoughts about yesterday’s events. Taking a deep breath, she questioned herself
again.
Why not?
She still had no answer. She pulled the shade down
halfway, not wanting to see her reflection in the Plexiglas.

Unable to stop her mind, she returned to her follies of the
previous night. Nothing about

that night had seemed real to her. Maybe because she couldn’t see
his face or know his name, but the passionate bites she witnessed in the mirror
on her neck were real
.
Her mind flashed back to the kitchen scene…

His hands massaged her backside and held her firmly against his
groin.

“So soft.” Restrained passion was evident when he spoke.

She stifled a moan, took a deep breath in an attempt to clear the
haze of lust, telling herself that she had to end it. She couldn’t allow it to
continue. With every intention of shoving him away, she placed her free hand
against his chest. Too late, she realized it was the wrong move.

The feel of his hard body under her fingertips and the desire to
rub him overwhelmed her.

Her hands itched for the pleasure of knowing what he felt like.

“Touch me.” He trembled with expectation.

Her breath caught as she struggled with warring needs.

What she needed to push her over the edge must have been evident
because, with his words, she could deny herself no more. She explored the
territory at her disposal, pressed her hand flat against his body.

He was solid as steel, smooth as butter and hot as a flame.

She heard her own sighs of enjoyment answered by his groans.

He became bolder with the confirmation. His hands stopped
massaging her backside, moved down until they reached the hem of her skirt. His
mouth continued to assault her neck, his fingers traced the edge of the
material against her thigh, until they reached the inside. His hands trailed up
past her thigh-highs to bare legs.

The little voice of reason inside her head hushed. Her legs, not
waiting for a command, parted of their own accord, allowing him access.

He grabbed hold of her bottom once again, this time over her
underwear.

“Tsk, tsk. A woman as sexy as you should be wearing thongs.”

She never thought of herself as sexy before, but standing in his
arms was doing a good job of changing her perception of herself.

“Take them off,” he commanded.

She couldn’t believe her ears. A practical stranger was asking her
to take off her underwear. She couldn’t do that—or could she?

Tiffany shook her head at the thought she’d had last night,
jolting herself out of the memories. She’d been hesitant about removing her
panties, but had easily put aside all of her personal convictions and married
him. The perilous situation she now found herself in was ten times worse than
if she’d followed her desires earlier in the night and removed her underwear.

Taking a loathsome breath, she returned to reminiscing about the
erotic treat she couldn’t resist.

No time to make a decision, there was a quick tug and the sound of
something tearing.

She felt cool air blowing past her heated most sensitive part, leaving
no doubt of what he’d ripped.

It was going too far, she knew it was time for her to stop this
little interlude. As the hand against him started to push him away, one of his
fingers slid between her folds and circled the crest of her desire. It took
only a moment before her hand on his chest began to flex and knead his flesh
instead of pushing him away. Her eyelids closed. Her lips parted to permit her inhalation.
A soft burst of cool air entered her mouth and danced across her mouth.

He growled, “Hmm, wet and stiff.” The same finger persisted to
explore. “You’re so hot, I think you need cooling off.”

Lost in a fog of pleasure. He sounded distant to her, and she
couldn’t comprehend his words.

There was a clinking sound, then the feel of something being
inserted inside of her; it felt solid and cold
—
ice cold. The
realization of what was happening made her eyes spring open widely.

“What are you…?”

She was unable to finish her words as he skillfully began to move
the ice cube in and out of her woman’s center
—
she’d shivered with need. She rested her hand and head on his
shoulder fearing her legs would no longer support her. Her other hand, still
held the glass of water and the remainder of ice
—
minus one
—
tightened around the
cylinder as the tension began to mount in her body.

Tiffany’s heart fluttered as she recalled how close they had come
to being caught when Josephine called from somewhere on the other side of the
kitchen door…

“Tiffany?”

She lifted her head up and looked into her mystery man’s piercing
eyes, with his constricted pupils— evidence he was as affected by watching her
enjoyment.

The clicking of Josephine’s shoes on the hardwood floor of the dining
room indicated she was within a few feet of the door.

As quick as a heartbeat, he gave her one last kiss on her neck and
left with a flick of his cape. Gone in an instant the way he’d come.

“Hey, Tiff. Why are you still in here? The
entertainment
should
be beginning soon.”

Josephine burst into the kitchen.

Tiffany clamped her thighs tightly together, feeling insecure
because she was standing there with crotchless underwear.

“Water.” Tiffany turned toward the counter and looked over at
Josephine. She could still remember the strange look that had crossed her face.

As the fog lifted slowly from her mind, she realized how
illiterate she sounded. She covered her error by tilting the glass up to her
mouth for effect, giving herself a moment to put together at least an
elementary sentence, she finally said, “I came to get some water.”

“Well, come on, you don’t want to miss the remainder of the show.
No telling what he’ll do next.”

It was a good thing she hadn’t been drinking any of the water for
real; otherwise, she might have choked. She needed to get her friend out of the
kitchen before she embarrassed herself anymore than she already had. “Jo, could
you please take the ice out for me? It’s in the freezer, and I’ll be along in a
moment.”

“Sure thing.”

It took forever for Josephine to remove the ice from the freezer
and leave. As soon as the door swung shut behind her friend, Tiffany set the
glass on the table and ran up the backstairs to her room. She prayed all the
way that she wouldn’t see the “Black Knight.”

Tiffany remembered making a conscious decision to get drunk with
her friends when they went out to the casinos. She was normally the one counted
on to watch out for everyone else and be the designated driver. She was
faithful, trustworthy and responsible. Tiffany Selina was guaranteed to do the
right thing.

In one weekend, she’d put aside everything she believed in.
Suddenly, she wanted to throw-up for the second time that morning.

The incident in the kitchen was something she had never done
before, but she could blame that on the heat of the moment. She reassured
herself, borrowing the excuse she’d heard her friends use on occasion. Even
with the marriage she could at least say she’d made a drunken mistake in the
wee hours.

The one thing she could not forgive herself for was the fact she
had lost her virginity recklessly to a man she didn’t even know—let alone love.

Three

Six weeks later, Tiffany found herself, once again, in the middle
of planning a wedding for a friend. Charmagne, the bride-to-be this time, was
about to marry her college sweetheart, Charles, within a month.

“Now about the bachelorette party, what do you want to do,
Charmagne? Go on a relaxing get away at a spa resort, the country club, a
girl’s night out…” Tiffany rattled off a few ideas.

“I want that fire fighting Black Knight,” Charmagne said from the
other end of the table.

Josephine, at her left, said, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope,” Charmagne responded.

“But you passed out at Diane’s,” added Sonya from her seat to the
right. “I could just imagine what’d happened if you’re center stage.”

“I think it’s a good idea. I’m with you, Charmagne, girl,” said
Karen, who sat between Josephine and Charmagne.

“Any reason to party and you jump right in, don’t you, Karen?”
Veronica commented from Charmagne’s left.

“That’s right, I sure do, Veronica. If you’d been at Diane’s and
seen that chocolate dream, you would, too.” Karen reached for a napkin on the
table and used it to fan herself.

“As long as there’s something hanging between their legs, that’s
all you care about,” Veronica said, her disgust clear.

“Well, what else is there,
Miss Thing
?” Karen looked across
the table at Veronica.

Josephine stood up. “Ladies, please! We aren’t getting anything
accomplished. The wedding is in a few weeks, and I’m sure Tiffany didn’t bring
us here to argue about the stripper.”

She returned to her seat. “What are your thoughts on this,
Tiffany?”

Still struck speechless by Charmagne’s announcement, Tiffany had
yet to render her opinion. Memories Tiffany still didn’t want to face had been
evoked. She also felt Josephine knew what had happened that weekend, even though
her best friend never questioned her.

How do you tell your friends you don’t want super sexy Fireman to
come because you’re married to him?
She considered asking one of them if they knew how to get a quiet
contested divorce.

“Tiff…?” Josephine’s voice broke into her thoughts.

Looking down the table at Charmagne, Tiffany decided to ask the
safer question, “Why do you want to have a stripper at your party?”

Charmagne glanced in Sonya’s direction and said, “For one, I would
like to redeem myself.”

“We’re all friends here, you don’t have to do something that
terrifies you to prove anything to us.” Tiffany hoped to convince her against
the idea.

“I know that, but there’s another reason I want to do this,”
Charmagne said meekly.

“What other reason do you need, other than wanting to see a
practically naked hunk of a man dancing for you?” Karen piped in.

“Sex, sex, sex…Is that all you all ever think about?” Veronica’s
face pinched with tension.

“Well, maybe if you gave it up sometimes, you’d talk about it
too.” Karen’s chest puffed up, almost spilling her breasts out of her low cut
blouse.

 “You know what they say, ‘those who talk about it all the time
don’t ever—’” Veronica began.

“I get plenty—” Karen interrupted.

“Can we please have one meeting without the two of you going at
each other?” Tiffany shouted.

The room went quiet for the second time that afternoon. This time,
six pairs of eyes aimed directly at her—obviously shocked to hear her
uncharacteristic intonation.

She flushed with self-consciousness. She knew she was on edge, her
nerves buzzing since the
mystery man
became the topic. “Sorry, but the
bickering is getting us nowhere.”

Her friends exchanged silent looks with one another. She chose to
ignore the questioning eyes and got back to the topic at hand. “Now, what was
your other reason, Charmagne?”

“The thing is, Charles is the only man I’ve ever been with.” Flat
open palms, Charmagne raised her hands boldly like two stop signs toward Karen,
to forestall a comment. “And he’s the only man I intend to be with. So I guess
I like the thought of having a fantasy man doing things to please me.”
Charmagne cast her eyes down. “It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I
don’t want to miss it.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tiffany asked.

Charmagne raised her eyes toward Tiffany. “Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll call Leslie Janis tomorrow and reserve a stripper.”

“Tiffany, I don’t want just any stripper; I want our fireman,”
Charmagne said with a hint of stubbornness.

Tiffany exhaled a breath.
Man, this is the last thing I need
right now.
“The Fireman it is.”

Tiffany pasted on a smile for her friends, concealing her inner
struggle.

~ML~

I want our fireman.
Those words continued to repeat themselves in Tiffany’s mind as
she closed the door behind Josephine, the last of her friends to leave, and
waved at Todd, the state trooper making his evening rounds. Tiffany didn’t know
how she had made it through the last hour while she silently struggled with the
thoughts of the leather-clad mystery man, who was actually her husband, yet,
still a mystery to her.

More than a month had passed since the last time she’d seen him.
Her menstrual cycle had thankfully come and gone, letting her know a possible
pregnancy was no longer an issue.

Getting rid of a husband was one thing, but a child would have
complicated things.

She attempted to put the torrid memories out of her mind. She told
herself she must’ve added too much Bacardi to the punch, not to mention what
she was drinking when they went out.

It was the only possible reason Tiffany Selina, the daughter of
Governor Donald W. Selina, would allow what had happened that night in the
kitchen and the remainder of the night to take place.

Since her mother’s death twelve years ago, she’d become the
consummate hostess. By age twenty-one, society had dubbed her “Miss Selina,
Hostess Extraordinaire.”

At an early age, she’d learned how to handle affairs. Tiffany had
been pushed into the position of being mistress of the manor because her father
had needed someone to stand beside him at special engagements, accompany him
around town, help host his parties and organize the volunteers for his
campaign. Tiffany, the only child, had seemed to be the proper candidate, despite
her youth.

Feeling drained, she walked up the stairs to her room. As always,
the Virginia heat was oppressive, and it was only June. However, she knew the
heat didn’t account for most of her weariness. The battle of guilt she had
experienced the last hour while sitting in the kitchen with her friends had
taken a toll on her nerves.

When Veronica had asked for some ice out of the freezer, Tiffany’s
legs had involuntarily crossed in remembrance. She’d sat around the table with
her friends, wondering if they would believe her if she told them what had
happened.

Probably not.

She was the governor’s daughter. It was completely out of
character.
Maybe that was why I permitted it to happen.
Everyone always
expected her to do the proper thing. Miss social butterfly…parties were her
game and conservative was her name. She was disconcerted by the unexpected
thought.

Charmagne’s wedding was the fourth one she’d planned this year.
Sometimes she felt as though one of her friends had put an advertisement in the
yellow pages announcing she was available to coordinate for any occasion. Her
friend Daphne was Jewish and had married two years ago. She’d recently given
birth to a son, Solomon. Tiffany wouldn’t be surprised if Daphne and her
husband Elijah expected her to orchestrate Solomon’s Bar Mitzvah when he turned
thirteen, regardless of the fact she didn’t know much about the religion and
customs.

Tiffany walked into her room and over to the closet to undress for
bed. Normally, she waited until her father called, to make sure there weren’t
any changes for the next day’s schedule of events, but tonight she was tired.

“How am I supposed to handle seeing him again?” Tiffany voiced to
herself, as she stood before the full-length cheval mirror and stared at the
woman in the reflection. Her hair was bound in an efficient bun, neutral,
unassuming make-up graced her face, but it was the troubled look in her eyes
that captured her attention. She turned away from the image, then hung up her powder
blue slacks and cream shell. She removed and folded her bra and knee-highs,
then placed them into their designated dirty clothes hampers. Her nightgown lay
across the foot of her bed as always, the only symbol of disorder.

Sexy lingerie was one of her secret loves. She pulled the gown
over her head—a sleeveless lace trimmed bodice with soft folds of silk that
fell around her legs. She entered her private bathroom to moisturize her face.
“Maybe I’ll come down with the flu.”

Her healthy reflection in the mirror told her it wasn’t likely.

“Maybe he’ll catch it.” Using her middle and ring fingers, she
applied the cool white cream to her face until it absorbed into her skin.

The final step in her night ritual was her satin cap.

She pulled back the blanket and crawled into bed.
Better yet,
he’ll surprise me and show up with divorce papers in hand.

She’d been trying to get in touch with him since she’d gotten back
with no luck. It would have been easier for him to get in touch with her.
However, he’d been ominously silent. The only thing she knew about him was his
name—no address and no telephone number. She had attempted to locate him
through the white pages and even Googled him, but without knowing more about
him, it was almost impossible. Attempting to use the process of elimination, Maryland
and Virginia were out of the question. Both states were too large. Las Vegas
would have been a nightmare. Besides, she had paid extra for Elite
Entertainment to fly one of their dancers out. So she narrowed her search to
the D.C area. Amazingly, there were forty-seven listings for Trevor or T. Wayne.
Deciding to call each one of them was also out of the question.

She was determined to stay on the opposite side of neurotic.

She had considered calling Elite Entertainment when she first got
back to try to get a message to him, but she could never come up with a reason
for wanting to talk to him—with the exception of telling Leslie Janis that she
was his
wife.

She began to drift off to sleep. With her defenses relaxed, vivid
dreams of her and Trevor invaded her mind. Every night since Las Vegas, she was
haunted by similar images. She had begun to question whether they reflected
what had truly happened in his hotel room that night, or if she was having
erotic fantasies.

After tossing and turning, she rolled down the covers on her bed,
telling herself it was the humidity, not the thoughts of Trevor causing her
increase in temperature.

I have to remember to turn the air conditioner up higher tomorrow
, she decided, unwilling
to believe anything otherwise.

~ML~

“Wayne here,” Trevor said absently after he tapped the
speakerphone button. He was currently involved in a computer project and, as
usual, had become completely consumed. Ten virus-infected computers from the
local library had kept Trevor buried in his lab all day. As he cleaned and
repaired one bug after another, he wondered if the company who installed the
PCs had ever heard of Norton or McAfee. Six unit hard drives could be repaired
fully, the other four he would have to replace.

Trevor could just imagine how many home and office systems had
downloaded information from the library’s stations and been infected.

“Hello, Trev.” A sultry female voice came through the line,
interrupting his concentration. “How’s my favorite nephew?”

“I’m your only nephew, Leslie.” In jest, his aunt always told him
she was too young to be someone’s aunt.

But he knew it was really because most of their family didn’t
approve of Leslie’s business, Elite Entertainment, even though it was very up
scale. EE specialized in escorts, singing telegrams and dancers, cultural and
erotic, for hire. The business catered to the upper echelon of society, mainly
the tri-state area around D.C. It was based out of Maryland, close enough for
easy access and far enough away for discretion.

She laughed. “You’d still be my favorite.”

“How are you?” he asked as he stepped away from the terminal he had
been working on and rubbed his tried eyes.

“I’m doing fine, sweetie. I hope you haven’t been holed up in your
lab all day,” she said knowingly.

“No comment,” Trevor said, humor evident in his voice. Leslie was
always after him about wasting precious time, working too much. “How’s EE?”

“Business is booming. As a matter fact, that’s why I called.” A
hint of hesitation. “I have another favor.”

Trevor knew that sound. It had been the same tone she had used
when she’d called last month wanting him to do a show. He shook his head
automatically, even though she couldn’t see him. “The answer is no.”