T is for Temptation (9 page)

Ruby liquid filled the crystal glass and fruity
Beaujolais
perfumed the intimate room.

“Why not stay here at the plantation house?” One ash eyebrow rose. “We haven’t had a girls’ night in a long while.”

“I need some alone time.” Tee deferred and added, “I’ve been avoiding everything—Tony, my disastrous marriage, my mother. My life’s not a pretty picture—the past, the present, and the future. You know, a year ago I had everything going for me.”

Dee
abandoned her drink and swept across the room. She sat next to Tee and squeezed both arms around her.

“Shush, cupcake, you do have everything going for you. You’re a beautiful, strong woman. It’ll all work out.”

“I never wanted the big career like you did.” Her eyes misted. “All I ever wanted was to make it to the Olympics.”

“I hate your dead spouse. What a frigging snake. I’m convinced he sabotaged your tryouts so you’d come apart and fall into his arms.”

Fury lit
Dee
’s gray eyes, and Tee recognized the brief, intent expression crossing her face.

“You know something.” She scrutinized her best friend’s composed, neutral features. “What’ve you done?”

Astonishment ripped
Dee
’s features. “What makes you think I’ve done anything?”

“Your poker face. That fake look of surprise.”

“We know each other too well.”
Dee
’s lips quirked upwards, and she let out an audible sigh. “Let’s just say I’ve instigated a behind-the-scenes investigation into that very convenient death of the snake.”

“Damn, that’s all I need. If Tricia gets wind of that—hell
Dee
, I don’t even want to think about her reaction.”

“She won’t, I promise.”

“My headache’s coming back. I think it’s time to run that bath.”

“I’ll ring for the car.”
Dee
checked her wristwatch. “Just as well anyway, it’s after seven, and I have a ton of work left.”

“I’ll stop by tomorrow for dinner. Bye, DeeDee.” She hugged her friend’s petite form and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for being there.”

In quick order, Tee settled into the luxurious comfort of the Bloom’s Bentley. The car grated over the graveled path to the Harbor Lodge. The drive took ten minutes. Night descended halfway there, falling in mere seconds the way a dropped shroud obliterates the features of the newly dead. The darkness was absolute, not a single light glowed.

She checked her watch, almost eight, and stared at the vehicle’s receding taillights for a few seconds. Opening the door to the cottage, she entered the living room and bumped into a small round table. Tee looked down. Two conch shells held a note in place. She picked up the slip of paper and read it on her way into the bedroom.

A perfumed bath awaits you. Dinner’s in the oven. The alarm will chime when it’s ready. Table’s already laid. An Edmeades Zinfandel is breathing on the counter.

Tee smiled, touched by
Dee
’s thoughtfulness. Within minutes, she lay in an enormous, old-fashioned footed bathtub. The flames from dozens of ivory candles sprinkled on the ledge above gave off a dreamy, hazy light. Rose petals and thin needles of lavender floated around her chest, perfuming the small room. She closed her eyes, inhaled, sighed contentedly, and slipped her shoulders under the warm water.

Persistent beeping jerked Tee out of a light doze. The oven, the food must be ready. She stood, grabbed one of the plush emerald bath sheets, and toweled off. Clean jeans and a tank top lay on the beige bedspread. She pulled the pants on and slipped the cotton top over her hair as she rushed out the bedroom door. For a minute, the Bounce-scented fabric covered her face. Tee pulled her head through the neck of the stretchy, turquoise material and stopped in mid-action.

Jake Mathews lounged against the fireplace, one shoulder braced against the mantel, bare feet crossed at the ankles, and arms folded over his chest.

His eyes flashed black fire, the small gold hoop in his left ear glistened through the darkness of his damp, blue-black curls. Jake wore a white T-shirt that strained against his broad, muscular chest. Low-slung, faded blue jeans molded his narrow hips and powerful thighs, and the bulge at his crotch was unmistakable. He looked like one of the Devil’s disciples.

The thought chased a peculiar hollowness through her belly, and she licked the corner of her mouth.

“I’m not leaving until you answer my questions,” he growled. Sweeping a Baccarat wine glass filled with burgundy liquid from the low coffee table, he offered it to her.

She straightened her tank top, crossed both arms, and scowled at him. “I’m not going to answer any of your questions.”

He set the glass on a cluttered sideboard. “Perhaps I should rephrase that. I’m not leaving until we’ve talked. You owe me an explanation.”

She winced; starter-gun guilt splotched her cheeks. The surprise confrontation stretched already wobbly emotions to a straight seesaw plank. “Fine. Talk.”

His long legs ate up the space between them, and he dragged her against him, edge to edge. Every taut muscle melted into a shivering anticipation, and when he bent his head and dove into an open-mouthed plundering, she surrendered, returning his actions with a bemused, rapacious need.

The aroma of rich, oven-warm chocolate heralded her dazed witchy reactions, and she pushed away from his chest, panicked and confused.

“Don’t,” he murmured, and a firm arm caught her to him.

A swift survey of the Lodge’s evening-cum-dining room showed not a single cupcake, but three-inch deep rose petals littered the carpet in a frothy foam of pink. Tee stifled a groan and concentrated on making them disappear. He couldn’t kiss her again, not for a second. She shrugged away from him.

“How did you know where I was?” Retreating to the coral fireplace, she relaxed a tich when the physical distance between them widened.

“Does it matter? I’m here, and we have matters to settle.”

“The condom thing?”

He advanced, and a smoky, erotic aroma seemed to embrace him. It did odd things to her mind, suspending rational thought. His mugged grimace helped to arrest the sudden descent into adolescent-crush capitulation.

“That, plus other issues.”

She splayed a hand in a feeble effort to prevent him touching her again.

“Talk, you said talk. You sit over there,” she said, pointing to the sofa. A wide age-marked oak table separated the couch from a loveseat. “I’ll sit here.”

“No.”

“Pardon me?” Years of Tricia’s training kicked in, and she froze in astonishment at his rudeness.

“No.”

He stalked across the two-foot distance, anger-tinged features drawn tight, and cradled her face between hot palms. She tingled from head to toe.

“It seems the only time we’re in harmony is when I’m making love to you.”

His right thumb drew a gentle caress on her cheek, the touch so slight, so delicious she couldn’t resist leaning into it.

“So, we’re making love first, and then we’ll talk.”

Flustered and panicky, determined to control her powers, she hissed, “Don’t kiss me.”

“Huh?” His dark eyebrows did an uphill drive, and three deep lines etched the bronzed skin on his forehead.

“I’m fine for the making love, but you can’t kiss me.”

“I’m good enough to screw, but not upper class enough to kiss?”

His hands fell away, his movements taut with barely controlled fury, and the momentary flare of grim acknowledgment in those sable pools lanced a sword into her heart.

“No, no. Damn, I didn’t mean it that way.” Her trembling hands flew to his chest and she waited, hoping he wouldn’t reject her conciliatory words. “I can’t think when you kiss me, and there’s all this tension, and . . .”

It wasn’t a frog clogging her throat, it was a damned alligator, and for the life of her, she couldn’t get another word out. It seemed he didn’tcare one way or the other.

“Good,” he said, his voice gruff and low, and he kissed her, a brief, hard contact.

Her mind whirled, and she yielded as he pulled away and led her to an emerald sofa dappled with delicate pink rose petals. Heat washed across her cheeks, Tee shuffled the cushions so they concealed the flowers, and glanced at Jake, who wasn’t looking in her direction. When he left to retrieve the wine, Tee covered her face with her hands and willed everything away.

“I swear every room you’re in smells of roses.”

She cringed and tried to hide the reaction by pasting a smile on her face.

He dropped onto the now-clean upholstered furniture, deposited two wine glasses and the bottle on the table, and draped an arm across her shoulders, tugging her against him.

“Okay, Tallulah Inglefield, we need to talk, and while all I want to do is be inside of you, we’ll settle matters first.”

He dropped a kiss on her forehead and lifted his warm arm away, leaving her bereft for a few moments.

“Why did you leave
Trinidad
?”

She’d anticipated the question and had a ready reply. “I didn’t want you to think you owed me anything. And afterwards, you seemed angry. I figured we both needed some time and space.”

“Delaying tactics, Tee. You don’t want to explain why you were a widowed virgin, am I wrong?” He sipped his wine.

“Yes and no. I didn’t want to talk about it, but I also wanted to give you an out.” Embarrassment had her in a vice grip. “Truly.”

Taking her hand in his, he flattened out the palm, traced its circumference, and kissed the center, a wet, slow kiss. “For the record, I don’t want out, and if I did, I wouldn’t need your permission.”

“Are you still angry?”

Something about her hand seemed to fascinate him.

“Again, for the record, I wasn’t angry. I was shocked.” His black eyes glinted with puzzlement and his full lips pursed. “I would’ve taken care not to hurt you if I’d known. There are ways to make it easier the first time.”

“Jake, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Okay, we’ll table the topic, for now. That still doesn’t explain why you left.”

“And you still seem angry.”

“More pissed than angry. You left me to sit through a seven-course meal surrounded by two of your mother’s friends, who made the Spanish Inquisition seem like a pleasant soirée. They put me through the wringer. Ah hell, Tee. You could’ve told me where you were going, a note, a voice mail. Why didn’t you?”

“You know the fight or flight reaction?”

He nodded.

“I’m a big coward. I ran.”

“Why?”

She suppressed a sigh and wondered if perhaps
Dee
wasn’t right. She should be honest. “It’s complicated.”

“Okay, you don’t plan on answering that one either, do you?”

His thigh muscles did a wave-like motion under the tight denims, and the bulge at his crotch grew, stretching the fabric.

“Tee,” he said and jiggled her hand.

“Are you going to be in a lot of trouble because of Tony?” She stuck out her chin and met his glance without flinching. “I overheard you and Dad in the study. Were you going to tell me about it?”

He twined their fingers together and met her gaze head-on. “A week after Tony’s death, two million dollars disappeared out of an offshore account he opened in
Antigua
.”