Wicked Pleasures (15 page)

Getting a woman's body and getting her heart are two different things. And gaining her trust is another problem entirely.

Cam wasn't exactly inept when it came to women, but for years, gaining their trust hadn't been one of his primary concerns. At least, no more than it had taken to get into their beds. That was an entirely different sort of trust, and he knew it.

And he didn't have Jaci's complete trust.

It was a startling realization, the knowledge that the woman he had claimed as his own didn't trust him enough to allow him to protect her.

He snorted at the thought of that one as he pulled the Harley into the underground garage of the converted warehouse he and Chase had bought just after accepting Ian Sinclair's offer five years before.

Two stories, cavernous and open; he and his brother had worked in their spare time for years, turning it into a livable space. The open rooms, tall windows, and spaciousness appealed to his need for freedom. After the ambush in Afghanistan, Cam had needed space, room to roam and to heal, after the military had returned him to the states.

Even worse than the need for space at that time had been the need for touch. It was then that he learned how finicky women could be. He and Chase had always appealed to women; it had been a shock to look in the mirror and realize the damage that had been done to his body, but even more surprising had been others' reactions to it. Everything from fascination to complete disgust. And he'd found, just because a woman wanted to live on the wild side for a little bit, it didn't mean that she had to appreciate the body that pulled her into the dark excesses that inhabited that side of her sexuality.

Yet, Jaci had touched him gently, with sorrow. And as she had, the need to take her without Chase had risen inside him.

His body tightened at the memory of that, as he moved quickly up the stairs to the first level of the "house." There, he strode first to the fridge and the cold beer waiting inside, twisted off the cap, flipped it into the garbage, then tilted the beer to his lips.

A long, cold drink later, he leaned against the counter and stared around the open room. There was an enclosed bathroom, shower, and Jacuzzi garden tub on the other side of the huge room. One side of the wall was thick, shadowed glass.

There was the kitchen and work island where he stood, just inside the doorway, then the room spread out into a living area, with sectional couches, thickly cushioned chairs, and a wide-screen television. There was a pool table and several old pinball machines behind that. Then, enclosed by filmy screens, was Cam's bedroom.

The king-size bed and matching unfinished furniture filled that corner of the room.

Upstairs was the weight room, home office, and Chase's bedroom and bath, as well as a kitchenette. As Chase had explained, sometimes a man just wanted a sandwich without trudging down the stairs.

And sometimes he needed his women alone. Sometimes he craved taking Jaci alone.

Chase didn't suffer from the darkness as often as Cam did. Sometimes Cam wondered if his twin couldn't live happily without ever sharing another woman.

Hell, Cam knew he could live without it. He did. Often. But sometimes, the memories crowded inside him, tore at him, and the need became a wrenching, brutal hunger that only increased the longer he ignored it.

Chase understood that hunger. He may not understand how Cam had come by it, but he knew the hunger.

He rubbed at the scars on his chest. The slashing scars weren't just from the bullets or the knife used during the attack. There were scars he had gained from the three days he'd spent as a prisoner of the small band of terrorists that had captured him and his team.

That agony was a joke, compared to other memories, though. Physical pain was a hell of a lot easier to forget than the broken memories of the three years of living hell after his parents had died and his aunt had been left to care for them.

His fingers tightened around the bottle as he restrained the urge to hurl it across the room. Hell, he'd just have to clean it up. And he'd long since grown tired of cleaning up the messes his rage had induced.

He relaxed his fingers slowly, inhaled deeply, and forced himself to remember the fresh, clean smell of Jaci's body, rather than the smell of fucking rose perfume, stale sex, and liquor.

He finished off the beer, breathed in roughly, then strode to the cordless phone at the center island. Jerking the phone from the base, he made a quick call to the exclusive boutique several streets from the hotel.

Speaking to the owner, he gave her his request—Jaci's size and coloring—and authorized the credit card transaction. Mrs. Lisette Miles, the owner of the boutique, was ecstatic with the sale, and more than happy to make certain the purchase was delivered to Ms. Wright at her hotel.

With that accomplished, he allowed a small, tight smile to touch his lips and moved quickly to the shower. Tonight he would try to seduce her into trusting him. Gaining her trust couldn't be that damned hard. Hell, she knew him, knew he would kill for her, knew he would do whatever it took to protect her. God help anyone who tried to hurt her, because he'd make certain they paid for it.

He'd stayed out of her life for seven years because he'd known she wasn't ready for him. Known he wasn't ready for her. She would come to him when she was ready. That was what he'd told himself over the years. He'd made certain her parents knew where he was, made certain he knew where she was working at any given time, and that she could find him if she needed him.

He wasn't a stalker. He wasn't obsessed. He just knew who his heart belonged to, just as he'd realized he may never have what he needed from her. The hardest part was the fear that he couldn't be what she needed. A part of him realized that, accepted it. He might never be the man she needed, but he couldn't walk away from her now.

He could have lived without her; he
was
living without her—until she arrived here, in his territory. She had come to him.

He shed his clothes and stepped beneath the shower, his teeth clenching as he fought back the dominance that raged inside him.

He had been living fine without her, but he was going to live better with her, and starting tonight she would learn that.

She was going to fight him, he could feel it, and it was more exhilarating than he could describe. She would challenge him, she would meet him head-on and make him work for what he wanted.

When was the last time he'd had to work for a damned thing, other than to get the information he dug up during the investigations he and Chase dove into? Sometimes that was work; but women had never been work. If one wasn't interested, then he could find another that was. No big deal, because none of them was Jaci.

Now, it was Jaci.

He washed his hair quickly before soaping his body, grimacing as he soaped and rinsed the thick length of his cock and thought of Jaci. A hard-on always made him think of Jaci.

Her life had been one of loneliness, he knew that from the investigative report. Her lovers were evidently few and far between, because he couldn't find them. She didn't make friends easily, and those friends she had made were intensely loyal.

A woman as fiery, beautiful, and passionate as Jaci needed more than a few long-distance friends, though. She needed a man. A lover she couldn't walk all over, one that would challenge her, make her blood hot. One that could take all that restless, burning passion inside her and return it to her tenfold.

He was the man to not just tame it, but to sate it. To make her burn over and over again, and to put out the flames with his touch, his kiss. His possession.

Ian was right. Jaci wasn't going to give him everything without more from him. He had hoped she would, had expected her to. He should have known better. Seven years wasn't going to weaken a woman who had been strong even at twenty-one. Strong enough to walk away from something he knew she had wanted down to the soles of her feet.

She was adventurous. She was a woman that would never belong to a weak man. And Cam was anything but weak.

Hell, he had more ghosts inside him than a haunted castle, and he knew damned good and well there were parts of him that might never be whole again. That would be the battle. Getting her to
trust
him, to belong to him, while keeping his secrets to himself.

Because those secrets could destroy him.

The secrets had nothing to do with seduction, though. They had nothing to do with making Jaci his.

Anticipation burned inside him at the thought of her and the seduction to come. He had never had to put himself out to seduce, but Jaci was definitely worthy of the effort. She was worth everything, even his own compulsion to never give a woman his release without a condom.

In his entire sexual life, he had never, not once, taken a woman without a condom. Evidently, Jaci had been just as careful, just as picky. And pickiness wasn't the end of it. It was more than picky, and he knew it. She had taken him, a part of her did trust him, he realized. She would have never allowed him to take her without protection if she didn't. So it wasn't just an issue of trust. Which meant he had to figure out exactly what that issue was.

Jaci restrained her smile as she entered the Brockheim mansion. She had redesigned a vacation cabin for the Brockheims in Aspen two years before. The Brockheims had decided to leave the job to Jaci alone, rather than oversee it. Margaret Brockheim had worried about having her husband there at the time, after hearing the rumors of Jaci's home-wrecking tendencies. Their daughter, Moriah, had been at the cabin, unknown to her parents, as Jaci worked.

Moriah hadn't known Jaci was due to arrive that weekend. She had been hiding, suffering, and while Jaci had been there, they had found a bond in their hatred of the Robertses. That, and a plan.

The Brockheims were old money, old morals, and old grudges. They were in their seventies, considered themselves hip and modern, and enjoyed their social lives to the utmost.

How Courtney had managed to acquire an invitation for Jaci to this party, Jaci wouldn't know; but as she caught sight of her friends across the ballroom, Jaci had to admit it didn't surprise her.

Courtney was dressed in figure-hugging sapphire silk. Her hair was piled atop her head, long strands falling from the top to flow over one shoulder.

Beside her, Ian and Chase were dressed in tuxedos, looking powerful and decidedly handsome, while Khalid—standing nearby—conversed with another guest.

As Jaci made her way across the ballroom, the dark red evening gown she wore swished over the toes of the expensive shoes that had been delivered with it. She had to admit, Cam had excellent taste in women's clothes. Even the lacy panties and thigh-highs were silk, and fit perfectly. She felt like a carefully banked flame, and she knew that was the impression the evening gown gave.

"Oh, you are in so much trouble." Courtney laughed as Jaci grew close, her brown eyes both wickedly amused and chiding. "Cam has called twice from the hotel. He swears you're hiding in your room."

She was aware of Chase drawing his cell phone from his pocket and putting it to his ear.

"Traitor," she accused him lightly.

He was calling Cam, and she knew he was. Brotherly loyalty, no doubt. As he informed Cam she was now at the party, she had a feeling Chase was eagerly anticipating the fireworks.

"You are a dangerous woman," he told her, his lips quirking at her daring, while he pushed the cell phone back into the inner pocket of his jacket. "He's not happy with you right now."

"I've not been happy with him all day." She shrugged her bare shoulders, aware of Chase's gaze slipping over the rounded tops of her breasts, revealed by the snug design of the dress.

Her back was bare to the top of her hips, where the skirt smoothed over her curves, snug and almost revealing. It was one of the most exquisite dresses she had ever worn. It was definitely one of the most expensive.

"Would you like to dance before he arrives?" Chase invited, glancing to the dance floor where the band had drawn several couples out to enjoy the slow, haunting music.

She smiled as she shook her head. "I think I'll wait."

"You might not get the chance to dance later." Courtney laughed lightly. "Cam is going to be all about asserting that wonderful male dominance I'm certain he possesses."

She kept her voice low enough that her words carried no farther than Jaci, but her laughter drew several admiring male gazes.

"Then I'll just have to be all about asserting my own dominance," Jaci informed her.

She was brave. She was courageous. She could stand against the Robertses and she could stand against Cam. It was all in the proper illusion of strength, she decided. She was all about illusion. She had carried the illusion of unconcern and restraint for almost seven years. Five years definitely, ever since the night the Robertses had nearly destroyed her.

Speaking of the devils—she caught a glimpse of Annalee Roberts from the corner of her eye. The woman's falsely concerned expression as she talked to Margaret Brockheim was a warning in and of itself.

She knew the routine. She'd been asked to leave more than one party because of the Robertses. It was one of the reasons she had resisted attending this party.

"The rest of us should be taking notes," Chase teased, distracting her. "I don't think anyone has ever so blatantly defied Cam. He could be going into shock."

Jaci rolled her eyes. "I think Cam is a bit more resilient than that."

"I don't know," he mused. "That boy's sense of humor hasn't been right for a while now, but it was coming around. You could have caused a setback."

Jaci's lips pursed as she fought a smile. She glanced toward Margaret Brockheim, saw the frown that threatened her brow as Annalee moved away to join another of her cronies. The older woman's expression was troubled now, her lined face heavy as she turned to her husband and daughter.

"Excuse me a moment," Jaci said to Chase as she turned and moved the short distance to the Brockheims.

She had expected this. She had known Annalee would be quick to attempt to force the Brockheims to ask her to leave. And Annalee had complete confidence in her ability to frighten Moriah and force her to take her side in doing so. Oh, how the mighty would fall soon, Jaci thought.

"Moriah. Mr. and Mrs. Brockheim. I hope you're still enjoying the cabin." She extended her hand, seeing the surprise on their faces, the flicker of indecision before Margaret Brockheim took her hand, albeit weakly.

Mr. Brockheim's handshake was firmer, and Moriah's held an edge of anger. Her hazel eyes were blazing with ire, though her features, her expression, was perfectly composed.

"We're glad you could make it, Ms. Wright." Harold Brockheim nodded stiffly, his gaze flicking over her head. "And the cabin is wonderful, as always. We were just there last month."

"Daddy loves the deck," Moriah injected softly, her composure perfect. "Especially the hidden ashtray you incorporated for his cigars. Mother doesn't fuss at him nearly as much now."

Harold Brockheim's enjoyment of his cigars on the back deck, his daughter had told Jaci, had been the cause of several disagreements between the couple. Incorporating the hidden smoker's niche had been easy enough.

"The cabin is lovely, Ms. Wright." Margaret smiled stiffly.

"You're close friends with the Sinclairs, then? And the Falladay twins?" Moriah stepped around her parents, the soft, gold material of her evening gown swishing around her.

Her parents watched her worriedly, meeting each other's gazes, as indecision seemed to shadow their eyes. They didn't want their daughter's perfect reputation smeared. Moriah was their only child, their pride and joy, from what Jaci understood.

"Courtney and I have been friends for years, and I've known Chase and Cam most of my life," Jaci revealed.

Moriah's gaze appeared curious now, her head tilting to the side, as the soft fall of sable hair slid over her pale shoulder. But Jaci could see the anger inside her—a hatred, a gleam of desperation that she knew was caused by the Robertses.

"Chase and Cam are good men," Harold stated, as though daring anyone to refute the statement.

"They're very good men." Jaci smiled in return. "And they were quite determined that I attend your ball. I hope the last-minute invitation didn't cause any problems."

"Oh dear, of course not," Margaret twittered nervously. "Courtney is a lovely young woman, and, why, Ian is almost family. I knew his parents quite well. We were so pleased you could attend."

The social lie was smooth and gracious, but Margaret's gaze was concerned. This was her ball, a social event that could turn around and slap her, if the wrong people were offended.

"Ms. Wright, I was just going to the buffet table for a small snack when you arrived." Moriah smiled. "Would you like to walk over with me?" A graceful wave of her hand toward the connecting buffet room was followed by a nervous smile.

"Of course," Jaci said. "I'd love to."

She could feel Chase's eyes boring into her as they moved off together. But it was the Brockheims who bothered her the most. They didn't want their daughter in her company. They wanted her by their side, not making nice with the problem of the week, where gossip was concerned.

Unfortunately for them, Moriah had her own agenda. Especially where the Robertses were concerned.

"Richard is becoming more frightened, and spreading gossip about you more than ever." Moriah lowered her head as she spoke, pretending to check her purse for a second as they moved through the crowd. "They'll strike soon, Jaci."

"And when they do, we'll be ready for them." Jaci shrugged.

"Annalee tried to order mother to make you leave." A flare of anger lit the brown depths of Moriah's gaze. "As though anyone can order my mother to do anything. But she upset her, and father isn't pleased over that."

"I'm sorry about that, Moriah," Jaci said softly as they entered the buffet room. "I hate to be the cause of any problems for your family."

"As though my parents haven't dealt with their kind before." Moriah's voice took a decided snap as she led Jaci to a deserted corner of the room. "And I'm tired of waiting. We should make the first move. This has to end."

"Enough, Moriah." Jaci glanced around, making certain no one could overhear their conversation. "We have to have the evidence first. Until we acquire that, then we have nothing to back us up."

Moriah's lips thinned in anger, and she turned her back to the room to ensure no one could see the emotion on her face.

Moriah Brockheim was a completely different woman when there were no social rules in effect. She laughed and played practical jokes, she was prone to drink a little too much wine when with friends, and she knew how to keep their secrets, because she had a few of her own.

"They aren't as careful, nor are they as smart as they used to be," Moriah said as she turned and led Jaci from the buffet room. "Come on, let's find Daddy's office. He has a marvelous brandy in there. I think I could use a shot of it."

The office was secluded, private. Moriah coded in the lock, then opened the door and ushered Jaci inside before locking it behind them.

"I hate these parties," Moriah said, as she turned on a lamp and moved across the room, her dress brushing with a soft sigh against the hardwood floor. "Father always gets worried when I refuse to attend."

She moved to the bar, poured the brandy, and then handed Jaci a glass.

"Annalee's stories have been changing over the years," she said then. "The woman is obviously losing it. Father became enraged tonight while she was demanding that you be ordered from the party. It seems, in addition to attempting to steal the money and seducing her husband, that you attempted to seduce her as well." Moriah's grimace of enraged distaste was painful to see. "As though that slut would need to be seduced."

Moriah was a secret friend, one Jaci had made certain no one suspected she possessed. Moriah's experience with the Robertses went back further than Jaci's, and the scars from it went deeper. Neither of them could risk the Robertses knowing how close their association truly was.

"Moriah, you should have told your parents by now," Jaci said.

Moriah sniffed at that. "Father would kill them. Mother would cry for months, and the scandal would be horrifying. But I want to see them destroyed, Jaci. I want it with a hunger that keeps me awake at night." Her fist clenched at her side before she lifted the brandy glass and choked back the liquor in it.

She coughed after it went down, her face flushed, and a second later she seemed to gain the control she needed to breath out wearily.

"Have you told Cameron what happened?" Moriah asked.

Jaci shook her head. "You'll know when Cam knows—everyone will know."

"You're going to have to do something about that bitch soon," Moriah said. "She won't stop."

"I told you, it ends here."

She and Moriah had talked several times after she had come to Alexandria, though they didn't dare to meet outside the social arena that would bring them together.

"Daddy will of course discuss all this in great detail after the party." Moriah's smile was tight and hard. "Mother is upset at Annalee's demands. You could see Annalee's fear in her eyes tonight. Or perhaps I just wanted to see it. I'll let you know what they say. Daddy won't stand for such behavior in his home."

"Moriah, have they bothered you further?" Jaci asked. She worried about that. They had terrified Moriah years before, left her with scars that Jaci feared might never heal.

"They know better," Moriah snarled, her lips tightening as the rage inside her flared to the surface. "The only thing that keeps me silent is the fact that it would destroy my parents. They would blame themselves for it, and I can't bear that." She shook her head as she sat the brandy glass carefully on the bar.

When she turned back to Jaci, there was a glitter of tears in her eyes. "Do you still have nightmares, Jaci?"

Jaci nodded slowly. "Yes."

"I see them and I become ill." Moriah breathed out roughly. "Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever forget it."

"You won't forget it," Jaci said, "but you're surviving, Moriah. That's all any of us can do."

Moriah breathed in roughly and nodded again. "Very well, we'd better get back. I'll call you tonight and let you know what Father said. Perhaps somehow, together, we can find a way to neutralize those monsters."