French Kiss (17 page)

Johnny looked at Nicky, his gaze studiously blank. His plans were pretty much limited to fucking 24/7. Not that it was possible, but tell his libido that. “Care for a glass of wine?” he asked.

“
That would be nice,” Nicky said, when the thought of returning to the house and sleeping for an hour was equally appealing. Particularly if she could share that bed with her host.

“If you’re tired, go on up to the house,” Johnny offered, politely. “I’ll stay and visit with Vernie and the girls.”

“I can rest here, and that wine sounds intriguing.”

“Perfect. Sit down. I’ll get you a towel and a glass of wine.” He seemed genuinely glad that she’d agreed to stay. She was surprised how moved she was
by so small a thing. But post-
orgasmic, she was feeling earnestly smitten and beguiled, wanting nothing more than to be near him, within sight and sound of him.

Close enough to touch him. If she could. If it wasn’t forbidden in public.

He was fast becoming a profound and heartfelt addiction. And she a lovelorn fool.

Which wasn’t sensible in the least.

Unless she wanted her heart smashed to smithereens.

Aaaagh.

She reached for the wineglass he was handing her.

Leave the bottle, she felt like saying.

I’m going to need it.

Y
uri rapped on the door of the bedroom,
then without waiting, pushed it open and walked inside a room that could have graced
Architectural Digest
spread on French mansions. “Time to go,” h
e said, curtl
y. “I had a call.”

Raf glanced up briefly, panted, “No way,” and resumed his rhythm.

“Make it quick. They want that ring delivered.”
Yuri didn’t move, and indifferent to his friend’s presence, Raf continued pumping away. The woman beneath him—familiar with an audience—performed her duties with the vigor required of a three-thousand euro fee, and in short order everyone was satisfied. Raf was collapsed on his back, breathing hard, the beautiful woman was gathering her lingerie from the carpet, and Yuri was counting down the minutes until they could leave.

He waved the woman out. “We have to meet them at five,” Yuri said brusquely.

With a groan and a string of curses, Raf rolled from the bed. “Couldn’t you have rescheduled?” he muttered. “She was paid for all night.”

“I didn’t have a choice. The buyer has to fly back tonight. Something unexpected came up in Baku.”

With a sigh, Raf reached for his shorts. “After this job, we’re done—right? Because I’ve got better things to do.”

“This is our last assignment here.” Yuri smiled. “Consider it part of our internship.”

“Consider it part of
your
internship. For me, it’s a pain in the ass.”

“Look, we’re just paying our dues.” Yuri had a modicum more responsibility than Raf, or maybe he was just more fearful of his father’s wrath. Either way, he took the role of leader.

“I don’t have to pay my dues. The business will be handed over to me regardless.” Raf had a supremely indulgent father, an even more indulgent, equally connected mother, and as an only son, both a pe
rceived and real sense of entitl
ement.

“Then you’d better make sure you have some damn good lieutenants.”

Raf smiled. “I have twenty-two cousins. All loyal. Throw me my shoes, and we’re out of here.”

Minutes later, they were being driven to the Ritz.

“I don’t suppose the girls will still be at the hotel.” Raf offered Yuri a drink from his wine bot
tl
e.

Yuri waved off the bottl
e, his gaze scornful. “Since they bolted and then drove off with Johnny Patrick, I doubt it.”

“Okay, okay, it was just a thought. I like Chantel.”

“So go see her. You have her number.”

“I might. What about you and Lisa?”

“There never was a me and Lisa, and even if there’d been, she’s on my shi
tl
ist now. She tried to walk away with fifty of my black pearls. The bitch thinks the world is one big comp for her. I doubt she’s paid for anything in years.”

“Whatever,” Raf said. “She
is
a damned fine actress.”

“So? How does that affect me?”

“Don’t blow smoke up my ass. You like to be seen with her. We both know that.”

Yuri shrugged. “There are other actresses.”

Raf let it drop, because he and Yuri had been friends a long time and despite Yuri’s nonchalance, he knew Lisa Jordan rang all his bells. And it wasn’t just her A-list celebrity and dazzling looks. She and Yuri were both strikingly similar—in their self-love and swaggering egos
, in their fondness for the spotl
ight. Soul mates as it were in the glossy world of swank and strut. “Those other actresses are probably better in bed, too,” Raf noted. Yuri had always complained that Lisa liked drugs more than sex.

“Anyone’s better in bed than her,” Yuri muttered.

“Once we’re done with this delivery, let’s go to England for a change of scene. My sister and her friends are partying at some country house. We could do some shooting there.”

“It’s a thought.” Yuri liked the English custom of shooting on private estates. He enjoyed the wholesale slaughter of game birds.

Raf lifted his brows. “So where are we supposed to meet this buyer?”

“Outside the Madeline.”

*
*
*

T
en
minutes later,
Yuri was swearing so loudly, Raf shut the door to the bedroom so the Ritz security wouldn’t come running.

“The fucking ring is gone!!! That BITCH had to have taken it!! I’m going to STRANGLE her with my bare hands!”

The bellowing invective continued unabated, as Yuri tore the bedroom apart looking for Catherine the Great’s emerald coronation ring, which they were supposed to deliver in an hour.

Pawing through the disarray of clothing on the floor, he gla
red at Raf. “I could use a littl
e help here, dammit!”

Raf looked up from the bed where he’d been lounging, his wine bottle still in hand. “You’ve emptied the safe, upended every drawer, and ripped apart the closets. Where would you like me to look?”

“Fucking up your ass might be an idea!”

“If only,” Raf calmly replied. “Look, the ring is obviously gone, along with the ladies and their luggage. You can tear this place apart, but Lisa must have watched you open your closet safe. The jewelry wasn’t in your luggage with the pearls. You and I both know it. But she didn’t take it all—just the ring; it could be worse.” Ignoring Yuri’s incredulous look, Raf said, “It’s true. What if she’d taken the entire set of emerald jewelry? Look, just give the buyer a call, postpone for a day or so, and we’ll go and get the damned ring.
If
you think Lisa really has it.”

“If
fucking
if?
Who the hell else would have taken it! Mercenary BITCH!”

“Okay, then. Call your guy. Tell him you have to postpone.”

“Jesus,” Yuri muttered, suddenly faced with cold reality. “My father’s going to shit. It wasn’t just the ring.” A look of fear crossed his face. “The key to our Zurich safe deposit box was under the lining of the ring case. I thought it would be extra safe there.”

“Jesus.” Even Raf who never worried about anything sat up and set the bottle down. “That key could be worth a lot to the wrong person.”

“You think?” Yuri snapped.

“Especially if they know it’s yours.”

“Especially if Lisa hands it over to some of her druggie friends who always need money and aren’t above ransom demands.”

“Okay, okay, we have to stay calm. We’re just going to have to postpone until we figure out what to do. There’s no other choice. Look, I’ll call my dad, and he can call yours. That way you don’t have to talk to your old man, and we’ll buy ourselves some time.”

Dropping into a chair, Yuri ra
n his fingers through his four-
hundred-dollar haircut and nibbled on his lower lip. He had a diminishing array of options. His father was not a reasonable man, although reason wouldn’t get you very far in the Russian mafia. Violence and fear, dog-eat-dog vengeance was the orthodox model. “What the hell are you going to say to your old man if you call him?” he muttered.

“I’ll say the bitch stole the ring and we’re going to get it back. I won’t mention the key. It should be simple enough to get them both back. It’s not as though Lisa can refuse to give them to us.” Raf’s smiled tigh
tl
y. “Especially with an automatic pointed at her head.”

Yuri’s frown eased. In dread of his father’s fury, he’d panicked. But if Raf’s plan succeeded, they’d have a few days to turn this fiasco around. “Okay. Call your father. Tell him we’re on our
way to get the ring. Tell him all the other jewelry is accounted for. In the meantime, I’ll check with Lisa’s friend Martine who lives in Malibu; she and Lisa talk to each other a dozen times a day. She’ll know where the bitch went.” With his spirits reviving, Yuri gave a thumbs up. “Thanks for the cool head.”

“You’ve saved my ass often enough. I’ll tell my father it might take us a couple days and have him reschedule with
the buyer.” Raf grinned. “It’ll
be more official if the call comes from my father. And what the hell, I’ve never been to Baku. I hear it’s hot this time of year.”

A
short time later,
the buy had been rescheduled for Zurich, since the buyer would be there next week. Raf’s father had been amenable as usual, and Martine had helpfully informed Yuri that Lisa and Chantel were flying back to L.A. on Johnny Patrick’s jet. To Yuri’s heated query about whether Johnny was aboard, she’d been able to assure him that her friends were flying back alone.

Yuri checked his high-end watch, which colorfully displayed three time zones with or without alarm options. “They’re four hours ahead of us, probably more like six by the time we get our plane off the ground. That’s not bad though. We’ll be in L.A. by midni
ght. An hour to her place and th
en”—his smile was malicious—“we’ll see how go
od an actress Lisa really is…”

W
hile Y
uri and
R
af were getting bent out of
shape at the Ritz, the small party on the beach in Nice was enjoying the conviviality of good wine and pleasant company.

Vernie entertained them with stories of her travels, her position as nanny having taken her around the world several times. She’d been everywhere and seen everything. Jordi and Marie sat at her feet, enthralled by her descriptions of temples in Thailand and safaris in Africa, o
f the time she was flooded in V
enice, or when she’d dined with an ex-ruler of Timbuktu.

During her narrative, Johnny and Nicky sat side by side on chaises and tried very hard not to look at each other.

And only partially succeeded.

But Nicky was cognizant of Johnny’s relationship with his
daughter and perhaps sligh
tl
y intimidated by Vernie as well. She tried really hard to behave with discretion and tact.

Meanwhile, Johnny was hard pressed to keep from spiriting Nicky away. Only sheer will and the constant reminder that at ten o’clock—give or take—he
would be rewarded for his well-
mannered restraint, kept him in check.

It was a taut and strained interval before dinner for two of the five people in the cabana. Fortunately, the other three seemed not to notice, engrossed as they were in the tales of Vernie’s world travels. Or perhaps, Johnny and Nicky’s acting abilities were demonstrably better than they thought.

Needless to say, dinner was equally difficult to pull off in terms of projecting the appropriate demeanor. Especially when the third bot
tl
e of wine was broached at dessert.

Nicky refused more wine at that point, even though it was a golden muscat she loved. If she had another drink, she couldn’t guarantee her behavior. Johnny looked way too luscious, lounging in his chair at the head of the table—all tanned and virile in his cream silk, open-necked shirt, dark as sin and handsome as a god. And it didn’t help that he casually handled the role of host as if to the manor born. He was gracious, charming, and affectionate to his daughter, erudite and discerning when it came to practically any topic. Although, the fact that he was a world-class stud seriously trumped even the most masterful of hosts in her current hot and bothered mood.

All Nicky could think of was sex, sex, and more sex. Overcome with an almost overwhelming need to touch Johnny, she flexed her fingers against the silky skirt of her green dress, which looked as good in Nice as it had in Paris. It would have been easy to
reach out; he was so close. But she had to wait, she warned he
rself—for numerous reasons…
most having to do with not embarrassing herself in public.

Maybe she should have a few quick cups of coffee. They might help mitigate her all-consuming, ravenous urges—further enhanced by alcohol, no doubt. Perhaps caf
feine would assuage the need-an-
orgasm-right-now mantra running through her brain and make her less inclined to throw herself at Johnny and plead for sex.

Even with three glasses of wine under her belt, she understood that doing that was strictly verboten.

Suppressing a shiver of desire, she stealthily glanced at her watch. “Shit.” Oh, jeez, she’d said it aloud. “Sorry,” she muttered to the table at large, everyone’s gaze having swiveled in her direction. “My watch battery’s worn out again.”

“Doesn’t that always happen when you’re miles from a store,” Vernie said, sympathetically.

“We’ll get one in the morning,” Johnny offered. “Let me take a look.”

As she held her wrist out to him, he leaned over, whispered, “Hang in there, babe,” as though he was a mind-reader. Unbuckling the band, he slipped her watch into his pocket, and said, “Let’s take our coffee and dessert out on the veranda.”

It wasn’t a casual suggestion. With his erection becoming more and more difficult to restrain, he needed to get away from the bright lights in the dining room. The ca
ndle-lit veranda would better s
uit his need for concealment.

He wasn’t usually so impatient. He must have had too much wine. Or maybe sex-on-demand was more of a constant in his life than he’d thought. Perhaps, Nicky simply engaged his interest more profoundly than other women.

Not a thought he particularly cared to pursue. But the lights had to go—that he knew. And quickly.

He waved the housebo
y
over. “We’ll take our coffee on the veranda,” he said, without waiting for a response from his companions.

“Bring the dessert, too,” Jordi said. “Please,” she murmured after a look from her father. “And thank you,” she added for good measure.

He waited for the rest of the party to precede him, then followed them out to the veranda, grateful for the dusky shadows.

The summer night was ideal—balmy and warm, the stars twinkling in the velvety darkness of the sky, the full moon a brilliant orange above a calm sea.

Over dessert, Jordi and Marie kept up
a steady
chatter, while Vernie did her share of talking as well. Until, finally taking note of Johnny’s desultory replies, Vernie said, “You must be tired.”

“I am. I’ll go to bed early tonight.”
He
suppressed
a
smile at the tantalizing thought.

“Why don’t I take the girls into
town
in
the
morning and let you sleep in?” Vernie suggested.
“It’s not as
though they mind shopping.”

“Sounds like a good idea,”
Johnny
replied,
when
it actually sounded like sheer, unadulterated bliss. He had
plans for
the night, and Jordi was an early riser.

“Want to go shopping, girls?” Vernie
asked, grinning
at the raucous response to her question. She
glanced at Johnny. “I
gather that’s a yes.” And before long, although
it seemed like
eons to two adults with sex on their minds, Vernie
began
gathering up her charges. “We’ve had a busy day. Say good night, girls.”

“Do we
have
to?” Jordi wailed, looking at her father.

“You two can watch a movie,” Ve
rn
ie offered. “You don’t have to sleep. Just get in your jammies.”

“Better do what Vernie says,” Johnny agreed. “If you wake up early, you can go shopping early. How about that?”

“Can we watch
Jaws'!
Please,
please.
Vernie’ll never let me watch it. I’m nine now. It can’t be
that
scary.” Kids had that sixth sense when they could maybe get by with something.

Vernie looked at Johnny. “It’s up to you.”

“Why not,” Johnny said, glad Jordi hadn’t asked if she could watch a slasher film, because with his mind focused on getting Nicky into bed as quickly as possible, he just might have said tempted to say yes.

After good-night kisses were exchanged and several more dispensations had been wheedled out of Johnny, the girls and Ve
rn
ie left.

Leaving a pregnant silence.

Johnny set down his coffee cup, the sound of the cup striking the saucer ringing like a thunderclap.

Nicky jerked in her chair.

Johnny blew out a breath. “Sorry.”

“I’m a little on edge.”

“Tell me about it. It seems like months since the beach.”

“More like years.”

He smiled. “We’ll give everyone five minutes, then take the back way up. With this hard-on, I don’t want to run into anyone.”

“Except me.”

“That’s m
y plan,” he said very, very softl
y.

“Just a word of warning,” Nicky breathed, his plan and hers identical. “I might come the second you touch me.”

“I’m about there myself. I almost lost it a hundred times during
dinner. You must be some kind of witch,” he murmured. “Definitely a good witch, though. Don’t get me wrong.”

She suspected he’d been the object of adulation so often and with such regularity, she didn’t know if she should add her homage to the cast of thousands before her. Although, what the hell. It wasn’t as though she was planning for any lengthy relationship. “All I know,” she said, honest to a fault, “is that you turn me on like no one has ever turned me on. I don’t know if it’s magic or your talents in bed, but whatever—I’m more horny than I’ve ever been in my life. So—has enough time passed, or what?”

“Oh, yeah.” After that blunt statement, no man in his right mind would hesitate. Leaning over, he took her hand and rising to his feet, pulled her up.

“Do we have to go upstairs?” she whispered, shuddering against him.

“I’d rather. Can you wait?”

“I
don’t know.” Her voice was
barely audible
.

“Give me three minutes,” he whispered, and knowing he could move faster than she, he scooped her up in his arms. Crossing the garden in long strides, he moved toward the back of the house at top speed. Had they remained on the veranda, they might be interrupted.

And he didn’t want that.

At least not until morning—late morning now, thanks to Vernie’s shopping trip.

In record time he was entering
Queen Victoria’s
bedroom. Kicking the door shut, he’d barely turned
the key in
the lock with the tips of his fingers when she panted, “I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“One second.”

“Ohmygod,” she breathed, not sure she could hold back the tide.

“Wait-wait,” he whispered, moving to the bed in two swift strides, dropping her on her back, unzipping his fly, pushing her skirt up, and spreading her legs. Stripping off her panties in a blur, he climbed between her legs, and a second after that he was buried to the max right where they both wanted him to be.

His eyes shut tight against the agonizing jolt of pleasure.

She clung to him as though she were drowning—feeling him inside and outside with every ripe and ready, tingling, pulsating nerve in her body. His heart was pounding as wildly as hers. “Again, again,
please
!
”
she begged. There was no question whether she could accommodate him completely, her body unsparingly prodigal in its need. She was throbbing, drenched with longing, fevered and desperate.

As fiercely impatient, he willingly obliged her, quickly withdrawing, plunging back in, ramming in to the hilt, feeling as though he was caught in some powerful riptide that was carrying him along whether he liked it or not.

Over and over again in a mindless frenzy, he crammed her full.

Over and over again she breathlessly rose up to meet him.

And whether a few seconds lapsed or minutes or whatever heaven-sent interval passed, neither was entirely sure.

Although, Johnny was unconsciously monitoring Nicky's orgasmic progress, disciplining himself, waiting, watching. Damned near out of control, he wasn’t sure he could delay his climax much longer when she suddenly went taut beneath him and whimpered frantically. As her orgasm broke over her and she sobbed in gratitude, he poured into her, deluging her slick cunt, ejaculating with such violence, he forgot to breathe for a moment.

Just like he forgot to use a condom—
again.

Fuck! Fuck!
Fuck!

He
was
out of his mind. He was never so stupid, and with her he’d more or less forgotten the entire
c
oncept of using a condom.

She
must
be a witch.

Who the hell else could inspire this kind of craving? Not that he actually believed in witches; he was reachin’ here. But whatever it was that was fucking with his head, he’d deal with it later. Right now, she was cooing and raining lit
tl
e kisses on his throat and feeling really soft and warm around his rising cock.

Right now, he was going to fuck his brains out.

“Oooooo
…
that’s nice,” she whispered, as his erection surged inside her.

Nice in flashing ten-foot-high neon, he thought, feeling the pleasure spiking up his spine and into the farthest reaches of his brain. Nice as in fly-me-to-the-moon without any visible means of propulsion other than steamy, flame-hot lust.

For a man who thought he’d seen it all, his eyes were being opened to an entirely new world of sensation. The kind that engaged something other than his cock’s attention. The kind that knocked on doors he’d never opened before. Maybe even the kind that might make him think beyond tonight.

She arched fiercely up into his downstroke, bringing him back to reality, and he kept his mind on business after that because he liked to please her. And please himself in the bargain.