The Exhibition (An Executive Decision Trilogy) (21 page)

‘Stacie, talk to me. You don’t need to keep this all to yourself.’ He reached for her, but she pulled away and wiped her wet hands on her skirt.

‘I need a shower, Harris. It’s been a long day. Do you mind?’

He watched miserably as she mounted the stairs like she was off to a fire. He ached inside for her, even as he raged. Then he had an idea. He picked up his BlackBerry from the counter and called Flannery, who said he’d take care of the rest.

Chapter Twenty-four

Harris dug through the guest room drawers until he found a pair of Kendra’s yoga pants and a T-shirt. Stacie was curvier than Kendra, but yoga pants were stretchy, and OK, he was a guy. If they were a little tight on Stacie’s excellent curves, well, he could live with that if she could. It was either that or scrounge something from his closet. Not that the idea of having Stacie’s naked body swaddled in his clothing didn’t do something for him, but he figured she’d be more comfortable in the yoga pants.

He was still thinking about the plan Flannery was helping him put together when he realized Stacie had left the bathroom door ajar, and instantly his mind was completely focused on the woman in the shower. He knocked softly and stepped into the humid room. ‘Stacie? I brought you some clothes.’ His voice sounded breathless, as though he’d been running. ‘Are you all right?’

He set the clothes down on the shelf near the shower and, really, he hadn’t planned it, but his hands had a mind of their own, and they were removing clothing – his clothing. And once the process had begun, it avalanched until he stood on the tiles in front of the shower buck naked. Then he took a deep breath and stepped into the steam.

She gave a little yelp of surprise as he moved in next to her, but the sound she made when he took her into his arms was more of a deep-chested purr. Encouraged by her enthusiastic welcome, he went to work on her mouth with his, feeling his erection expand and press upward against her belly in the tight space between them as he anticipated the warm, tight depth of her.

‘You all right?’ he asked again, pulling away just enough to speak.

‘Better now,’ she said, giving his cock a stroke as he reached for the shower gel and began soaping her breasts, his mouth watering as he thumbed and stroked the nipples to taut peaks.

He flinched and sucked breath between his lips when she fisted a hand against his cock and began to stroke. ‘Easy,’ he said, placing his palm on hers to slow her progress. ‘You keep that up and I won’t last long enough to get you really clean.’ He forced her against the wall and lifted her arms around his neck.

‘I don’t want to hurt you, Harris,’ she whispered. ‘I never wanted to hurt you.’

‘Then don’t,’ he said.

‘Harris, I –’

He stopped her words with his mouth again. His tongue moved deep, stroking and lapping as though he could devour the words that he was pretty sure he  didn’t want to hear, as though he could, with his own tongue, with his own breath, give her the right words, the words that would cause them to wake up and find that Terrance Jamison was nothing more than a bad dream. ‘Right now, I need you, Stacie,’ he said at last, trailing kisses down her throat and onto her sternum, cupping her breast to his face. ‘We need each other, and don’t say we don’t because you know we do. I won’t let you go through this alone, so stop thinking I will.’

It stunned him to realize just how much he really did need her and how much he wanted her in his life. And how terribly much he’d underestimated her. There were secrets she was still keeping. He knew that, and he’d find a way to get her to open up, he’d find a way to win her trust. She made soft little grunts and groans and arched into his touch as he laved each erect nipple with his ravenous tongue before dropping to his knees and pulling her to him, resting his cheek against the rapid rise and fall of her belly. He ran a hand through her tight curls, feeling her breath catch and her hips tense and shift toward him as he slid two fingers into her. Only a few hours ago he had been desperate to talk to her, desperate to hear what she was hiding. Yes, he still wanted to know, but now it mattered less. It mattered much less than the woman in his arms.

‘Harris, I need you,’ she said. ‘Harris, I need you.’ Over and over again she said it in tight little breaths as he opened her with a scissoring of his fingers, opened her where she thickened and swelled against his touch, where the soft glide and slip of her invited him deeper. And God, he wanted to go deeper, way deeper than her body would allow, way deeper than he could ever go just holding her in his arms.

Kendra told him his problem was that he was too intense, that he wasn’t ever willing to keep it simple with women, to keep it uncomplicated. Jesus, she was so right! And the very thought of what Stacie kept hidden from him made him ache, not because she kept secrets – everyone had secrets – but because he could see they hurt her. He could see what she kept hidden wounded her deeply and yet she kept it, held it, locked it away.

He lifted her right foot to rest on his shoulder, forcing her to lean back on the tiles and open still further. Even over the scent of shower gel, even in the rising steam, he could smell her scent, he could smell her desire. He buried his face in the warm wet of her and she gave a little jerk and a sigh before curling fingers in his hair.

She let out a little cry. ‘Harris, oh God, that’s …’ Her words trailed off and the curl of her fist tightened next to his scalp as he bore down on the rise of her clit, alternately sucking and kissing, then licking a path around her hardness with the press of his tongue. He felt the tension tighten her whole body around him. Her grip in his hair was nearly painful. Her body went rigid and her back arched against the wall as she convulsed against his mouth. And, in the spasms that racked her, her foot slid off his shoulder and she slipped to the floor next to him, pushing and shoving him back until he sat flat on the shower floor with his spine resting on the decorative glass blocks of the wall, and he was thankful it was a big shower.

That was his last coherent thought that didn’t involve Stacie’s deep, expressive mouth wrapped around his cock. She did things with her tongue … while she cupped and stroked his balls, she did things with her tongue, opening her throat until he was deep inside and then pressing all of her tongue up against the length of him, flat and slick and tight, tighter than he could have believed possible. Then, somehow, she moved it, shivered it, and lapped at the whole of his length. And God, the sensation made him insane. He ground his ass against the floor of the shower and pushed her hair to one side so he could watch, so he could see Stacie Emerson sucking his cock. Jesus! Stacie Emerson was sucking his cock! And it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. And she was getting him there in a big way, in a big hurry.

He tried to pull away. He tried to suggest they go back to the bedroom so he could get a condom, but she only tightened her grip around him, and fuck, he realized she was playing with herself, stroking the flat of her hand between her legs in that amazing place where his tongue had just been, where his face had been only minutes ago. And that did nothing to slow progress.

‘Stacie, I can’t … I need to …’ But she sucked harder and lifted her bottom until he could make out the movement of her fingers snaking in and out of her and circling over her clit, and there was no way he could hold back any longer.

He came hard, crying out something strangled, something incoherent followed by her name as he jerked and banged his already addled head against the wall. Not that he noticed anything but how Stacie took him, shivering out another orgasm against her fingers. She took him, all of him, swallowing down everything; she took him until he was completely spent. It was only then that he realized the shaking of her shoulders had nothing to do with sexual release; that she wept in great, wracking sobs. He scooped her onto his lap, into his arms, and held her, feeling miserably helpless in spite of their lovemaking. He held her until she relaxed, until he relaxed. And they clung to each other until the pelting water of the shower turned tepid. At last she breathed a shaky sigh and stood, offering him her hand.

‘Come on,’ she said. All at once her voice was neutral, as though nothing had happened. ‘We’ll catch a cold.’

She had just reached for the towel, standing there in the harsh light of the bathroom all goosefleshed, nipples and areolas impossibly swollen, and Harris couldn’t stand it. It wasn’t enough. Jesus, it was never enough. He scooped her into the towel, and lifted her into his arms, still drenched and dripping and leaving wet tracks on the wood floor in the hallway as he carried her to his bed.

Ignoring her protests, he wrestled her into the mattress, making a halfhearted attempt to dry her, but there were places he wanted to leave wet, very wet. It was when she kicked and writhed in a ticklish shudder that the towel fell away, and he grabbed her ankle and ran his tongue up the instep of her foot, settling his lips around her big toe.

This time the shudder was followed by a tight gasp and a moan, and her legs fell open to offer him exquisite views of what lay between, what he could never get enough of. His cock tightened and jerked and stretched toward her in spite of the fact that he’d come only minutes ago, and he felt full all over again. He made his way to suckle and lick each of her toes in turn, with her lying there unselfconscious in her vulnerability, in her exposure, grinding her bottom against the mattress and arching her back in turn. The gasps and groans had made way for soft purrs and delicious mewling sounds that pushed his cock beyond half-mast to full wood. As he began the torturously delicious tongue-bath up her ankle and onto her calf, she slid her fingers down, first to cup her pubis, then to tweak her clit and dip into her swollen depths. But he pushed her hand away.

‘That’s mine,’ he managed, nipping at the sinuous muscle of her calf. ‘Don’t touch it. This time it’s totally mine.’

‘Oh God, Harris,’ she moaned, reaching to rake grasping fingers through his hair in an effort to pull him up to her. ‘Then hurry up. I can’t stand it. I need you in me.’

He shoved her hand away and continued his ascent up the inside of her knee and onto her thigh. The ocean heat scent of her made him feel like he would burst if he didn’t enter her soon.

‘Harris, pleeese,’ she gasped, practically bouncing off the bed when his still-damp hair grazed the splay of her. And then, always the proactive type, she arched and stretched and writhed her way up the bed, the hand not still trying to find purchase in his hair, fumbling for the drawer of the bedside table. She wriggled and bucked until she could almost sit up, with him moving to grasp her hips as he licked and kissed and nipped ever closer to her wet, slick heat.

He heard the rattle of the condom wrapper. And then she shoved it at him. ‘Put it on, Harris,’ she hissed sucking a tight breath as he nipped her clit. ‘Put it on now and fuck me. Now!’

He was desperate to be inside her. His ascent of her body was at least as torturous for him as it was for her. The agony was like a sweet, tensed fist cupping and squeezing the weight of his need, and his erection ached with the fullness that tightened every muscle of his body, that made breathing an unbelievable effort. He sheathed his cock a little more slowly than he would have liked, arousal making him awkward and uncoordinated.

‘Hurry,’ she moaned. ‘Please hurry, Harris. I need you!’

There it was again. Stacie Emerson needed him. It did things to him when she said that. The condom in place, he obliged her, moving in between her thighs, giving her delicious slickness one last long slurp with his tongue before rising above her and sinking into her velvety, warm depths.

She rose up to meet him, her legs sliding into place around his waist, slipping against the water droplets that still sheened his hips and back from the shower. Only a couple of hard thrusts and she came again, hands fisted against his upper back, face buried against the curve of his neck. This time her shudders were ones of pleasure and they belonged to him. Because he’d just come so recently, he was able to slow his pace, revel in the tensing and straining of her body, suss out just what he could do to make her come again and again. Her grip around the length of him was a deep, suckling pull that tightened and tugged with each thrust. Even when he held still to kiss and caress her breasts, to thumb the demanding rise of her clit, even when he held her still, pinned beneath his weight, unable to thrust, the tight grip and release, grip and release of her strong inner muscles had him on the edge again.

With each of her orgasms building on the one before, each causing her spasms against his cock to clench still tighter, it wasn’t long. It wasn’t long until a particularly hard thrust sent them both over, gasping and convulsing and spilling into each other, grasping at each other as though their very existence depended on it. And even though he didn’t want to think about it, even though at the moment he wanted to chase all of the nightmares Stacie had endured away from her and leave her with only good dreams and good realities, he knew that Jamison wasn’t going to go away and Stacie would never be safe as long as he was in the picture. He pulled her to him with such force that she groaned. He’d keep her safe. He wouldn’t let what happened to her in New York happen again. Ever. He’d keep her safe here with him.

Neither of them spoke. Instead, they shoved and pushed their way under the blankets and slept the sleep of exhaustion.

Chapter Twenty-five

‘Stacie, wake up.’ Harris kissed her ear, and her hand moved to her face as though she were swatting away a fly. If circumstances were different he’d have loved nothing so much as to watch her sleep, but this was a special day. He’d woken to the email he’d hoped for from Doug, over on the Crooked River, so watching her sleep would have to wait for another time, and he absolutely planned to make sure it happened.

He kissed her again and pulled back the covers, a mistake on his part because seeing her naked in his bed made his cock stir and tighten in his walking trousers. But thoughts of what he’d like to do to her there in his bed would also have to wait.

‘Hey, sleepyhead. Get up if you want to see the mountain lions.’

‘Wha …?’ She fought her way from the tangle of sheets to sit naked on the edge of the bed. ‘Mountain lions? Really?’

‘Doug’s emailed to say he’s spotted the female on her territory, and just yesterday he spotted a big male. Love’s in the air. Come on. We don’t want to miss our window of opportunity.’ Before she could ask he said, ‘I hope you don’t mind but I had Flannery send someone to your flat to pack up something suitable for you to wear.’ He nodded to the bag he’d just brought upstairs. ‘Now, get a move on. I’m making some sandwiches and coffee, and we’re off.’

In spite of the short notice, Stacie was downstairs and ready to go in less than ten minutes. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of the blond sitting at the breakfast bar, sipping coffee opposite Flannery.

‘Stacie, meet Dianna. She works for me,’ Flannery said. ‘She’ll be you today and tomorrow if need be. Kenny over there, who you’ve already met –’ the man drinking coffee and gazing out the picture window gave a nod and a wave ‘– he’s all set to be Walker while you two are off cougar-spotting.’

Harris filled the Thermos and shoved it in the side of the backpack. ‘We’re officially not leaving the cabin today. Now hurry up, we have a long drive.’

Stacie took it all in with very little effort as though the plan made perfect sense to her. Outside, he shook his head as she started to climb into the Jeep. He nodded to one of Flannery’s black SUVs instead, and she let out a wicked chuckle. ‘Harris Walker, you’re a deliciously devious man.’

‘Anything for mountain lions,’ he said, opening the door on the passenger side and motioning her in.

It was still dark outside when they pulled onto Highway 26 heading toward Central Oregon. In fact, it would be dark for several more hours. Harris loved that Stacie seemed as bright-eyed and excited as he was about the chance to see the lions. He shot her a glance from behind the wheel. ‘You know there are no guarantees. Cats can be really elusive. We may end up having nothing more than a long drive and a hard hike.’

‘It’s all right,’ she said, offering him a cup of coffee from the flask. ‘I’m up for a road trip and a hike. In fact, that’s exactly what I need. I’ve already emailed Jenny to let her know I won’t be in. What has to be done at the gallery today she can take care of with the help of the two interns. They’re working on the Japanese exhibit. Carla’s interviewing Ellis this afternoon for the film loop. After that, she can begin the final edits. Oh, there’s lots to be done and we’re getting down to the wire, but I’m pretty anal, so we’ll be ready.’

He sipped his coffee and nearly burnt his tongue. ‘Then you’re OK with this?’

‘I’m better than OK, Harris. I told you I wanted to watch you work.’

‘This is not an Armageddon shoot,’ he said. ‘It’s not like the photos you’ll be displaying.’

‘That’s even more important,’ she replied. ‘I told you I wanted the good things, the hopeful future, the treasures that are worth protecting, to be a part of the exhibition as well. You and Kyle and the photos you take are the conscience of the Northwest. You’re able to show people what’s at stake in a way no one else could. That’s what you did for Ellis in Valderia, and that’s what you do in every issue of
Wilderness Vanguard
and in every photo you take.’

Harris felt himself smiling in the darkness. It delighted him that his efforts to take her mind off the Jamison situation had worked so well. It delighted him even more that she understood his passion so much better than he could have ever imagined. ‘I take the pictures for my own pleasure,’ he said. ‘Well, at least that’s how I started out. The oil slicks, the clear-cuts, they came from just feeling that people needed to know. Those I don’t enjoy. Those make me sick.’

‘They should make everyone sick. Why haven’t you ever exhibited any of them before?’ she asked. ‘OK, I know you didn’t want to work with me, and I understand why, but I’ve studied all your exhibitions to date, and there’ve been a few. Why none of the Armageddon photos?’

His grip on the steering wheel turned painful, and he handed her back the coffee cup, not wanting any more. He found it difficult to speak. ‘I told you, Stacie, they make me sick.’

For a long moment, she studied him. He could feel her gaze more than see it in the dim light of the dashboard. ‘What? You mean those shoots literally make you ill?’

‘Sometimes I get headaches, sometimes I throw up. I always have nightmares.’ He felt cold, and the coffee felt like acid in the pit of his stomach.

Stacie reached her hand across the seat and laid it gently on his leg. ‘Harris, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’

His hand closed around hers in a tight grip. ‘I wasn’t really … looking forward to talking to Carla Flannery about my work, and I really didn’t want you to see me … like that.’

‘And yet you went through with it,’ she said softly.

He nodded, not knowing if she could see him or not. ‘It’s a good idea, what you’re doing. It’s a brilliant idea, and the reason you’re doing it’s a good thing.’ He glanced over at her. ‘But for me, it won’t ever be an easy thing.’

Again he felt her gaze on him. ‘For you, Harris, for a man of your passion and your love for nature, how could it ever be easy?’

For a long time after that they rode in silence, each lost in their thoughts. Harris watched the road unwind in front of him as they made their way off the flank of Mount Hood, thick with conifers and rhododendrons, and descended into the dryer woodlands that dropped them down onto the Warm Springs Reservation. At some point, Stacie drifted off to sleep, her head resting against the window, her breathing even and relaxed. Harris hoped her dreams were pleasant ones that had nothing to do with the nightmares of her past or the situation she now faced. But when she uttered a startled cry and convulsed hard against the seatbelt before fighting her way up into the waking world, he figured that wasn’t the case. ‘You all right?’ he asked.

‘Yes! Fine!’ Her rapid, panicked breathing told him otherwise, but he let it go. ‘Where are we?’

‘Just passed through Prineville.’

They ate the first of the peanut butter sandwiches before they parked the SUV and headed up a dry canyon on foot, leaving the whisper of the Crooked River below them in the greying dawn. The packs were heavy. Most of the weight was water, since there were no sources beyond the river. The ascent ahead of them was strenuous, and the day, though still chilled with the desert pre-dawn, could turn warm.

‘My cat has several daybeds up here,’ Harris said. ‘Doug knows her haunts pretty well by now. You won’t see any footprints, though; cougars are light-footed, and this canyon is mostly rock. It was nearly two years ago I took the photos, and mountain lions breed only every other year, so if Doug’s right, then we might see the male too. The pair’ll stay together anywhere from three to ten days if mating. Otherwise, they’re solitary, except for females with kittens.’

They’d been walking at a steady ascent for nearly an hour when they heard the first scream. Stacie gasped and let out a little yelp. She was nearly on top of Harris when the second scream erupted and echoed through the canyon.

‘That’s the male?’ she whispered, the beat of her pulse metering her voice.

He shook his head, slipping a hand in hers to give it a reassuring squeeze. ‘That’s the female calling the male. She’s ready to mate. Terrifying sound, isn’t it?’

She nodded as it came again. ‘I’ve heard about it, but I never imagined …’ Her voice drifted off.

‘Come on.’ Harris motioned up the trail, easing open his camera case. ‘If Doug’s right, this route should put us up above the daybed with a good view.’

As the cry came again, Stacie didn’t hesitate, but nodded toward the sound and followed Harris up the trail.

The sun was just staining the sky pink when they topped the rise that overlooked an outcropping of rocks opposite them on the other side of a narrow canyon. And there on a ledge were the two mountain lions. Harris could feel the tensing of Stacie’s body in the excitement he knew she felt because he felt it too. From the looks of the situation the female had been calling for a mate, and the male, who crouched on the outcropping just above her, had just arrived. Harris breathed deeply and slowly to steady his hands as he aimed the camera. He was so engrossed in the cats that it took him a second to realize Stacie had her own camera, and he couldn’t help feeling a swell of pride at just how calm she was, already shooting next to him. But then he reminded himself she’d grown up in the Russian wilderness. Beneath the big city veneer, she was made of stern stuff. He leaned close to her. ‘This is my cat all right. See the little notch in her left ear, some old injury.’ His voice was less than a whisper, but she nodded that she understood.

And then the action began as the two cats went about the business of getting acquainted. The female stretched long and lean across the rock before the male, not unlike Harris had seen Dee’s two tabbies do when they found a particularly nice place to sunbathe. In the crisp quiet of the morning, they could hear the rumble of the purr emanating from the female’s throat. It was a feline act through and through as the two made little grunts and growls at each other and the male sniffed the female’s readiness. It didn’t take long until the female rolled back onto her belly and positioned herself, flicking her tail to one side and lifting her bottom.

Being privy to such an intimate act of nature, such an intensely wild and primordial act, made Harris’ pulse thunder against his throat. Seeing the two cats together like this was an unparalleled privilege, but to share it with Stacie made him feel as though he had somehow offered it to up her, as though he’d had something to do with the cats’ presence here. It felt right on a level that he had no words for. If he were ever to share such an experience, it should be with her. It couldn’t be with anyone else.

At some point he realized she was taking pictures of him as well as the cats. He could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest through the dark green fleece she wore. He could almost feel her intense concentration and her delight at sharing the experience, at watching the cats as they got on with the business of creating the next generation. He loved that she’d made no nervous twitters, no off-handed remarks about the cats’ mating. Most people would have. Most people would’ve been uncomfortable with seeing something so raw, so blatantly and unashamedly sexual.

The sky had gone from pink to blue and the monochromatic world had brightened to subtle desert shades of tan and mauve and khaki, bathing the cats in golden light as they stretched and preened. Then Stacie and Harris watched as they moved on silent feet single file off the ledge, and disappeared into the canyon.

They stood and watched long after the cats were gone, as though to move or to speak would somehow destroy the moment. Harris understood. He’d sat for nearly an hour after photographing the female with her kittens, unable to move, unable to do anything but try to take in what he’d just witnessed.

It was Stacie sniffling that brought him back to reality. He turned to find tears streaming unabated down her cheeks. She offered an embarrassed smile and wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands.

‘Amazing,’ she managed. ‘They were amazing, so beautiful and powerful and …’ She looked up into his eyes. ‘Thank you for bringing me here.’

‘It was a pleasure.’ Harris resisted the urge to take her into his arms. What she was feeling right now had nothing to do with him, and he didn’t want to take away from it.

‘I’d love to come back and try to find her after the kittens are born,’ she said.

It encouraged him that she was thinking in terms of the future, a future without Terrance Jamison. ‘I’m sure Doug’ll let us know when that happens. It’ll be three months, maybe a little more, before they’ll be born.’

‘In the dead of winter? That’s a harsh time to bring kittens into the world.’

‘Don’t worry. She’s up for it. Doug told me she’s successfully raised at least two litters before the one I saw. She knows what she’s doing.’

Stacie looked after the cats again, and Harris couldn’t resist. He lifted his camera and took a couple of shots of her. When she flipped him off and then offered her usual teasing smile, he only shrugged and said, ‘Just returning the favor.’

The blush that crawled up her throat made her look even more beautiful, if that were possible. ‘Yes, but you look outdoorsy and ruggedly handsome. I look all swollen-eyed and under-slept.’

He kept shooting. ‘To me you look beautiful. You belong here almost as much as those cats do.’

She sat down against the cliff face; and the smile slipped from her lips. His chest tightened, and he wondered if he’d said something wrong, but he was comfortable behind the camera. It had always been his safe place, with mountain lions and great horned owls and, at the moment, it felt like the safest place to be with Stacie Emerson, so he kept shooting.

At last she spoke, looking out over the canyon. ‘I nearly died.’

He felt his heart stop then start again in his chest, but he kept shooting. Somehow it felt safer for both of them.

‘He owned me outright, Jamison did. At least that’s the way he saw it. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get free of the debt; of him. It didn’t matter that the situation was illegal, he was Terrance Jamison, and he could do what he wanted. His abuse, his humiliation, I could handle. When Zoe died, I knew what I was in for, and I was determined to work off the debt, to do whatever it took, for Zoe, and for me, I suppose. The gallery was something of my own, something I’d earned. But then he wanted me to do things –’ she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them ‘– things with other men. He said that the debt had to be paid and my body was just currency. Oh he … had me whenever he wanted, mostly to humiliate me, to remind me of my place. I was resigned to that after Zoe died. It was her … relationship with him, her sacrifice, that kept me safe, so it wasn’t unexpected. But this – this was different. My reputation was all I had, Harris. My name was associated with the gallery, and I’d made it matter. I’d made the gallery mine. And it was all I had left of Zoe. You asked me if he was my lover. But I promise you no lover would have ever done the things he did.’