Wicked & Willing: Bad Girls (10 page)

“If you ruin the ending of the movie, young lady, you can forget this idea right now,” Max replied tartly. “That’s as bad as people who read the end of a book first.”

Venus looked at her own hands. “Uh, guilty.”

Max’s eyes widened in horror. “No.”

“Well, what’s the point of reading a whole book if it’s going to have a sucky ending?”

“There’s such a thing as the journey,” Max said. “Oh, dear, I see I’m going to have to introduce you to some books worth reading simply for the sake of the words.”

Venus snorted. “Great words can’t make me like a book.” She glanced at Troy through lowered lashes.
“Though if it’s got some great sex or some bloody bodies or, better still, a bit of both, I might be interested.”

Max shook his head in amusement. Tapping his finger on his cheek, he said, “I think I might have a few that would meet your requirements. And they might even have an ending you’d approve of.” He gestured toward the DVD case. “Though the ending to this is so awful, I can’t imagine why you insist we see it.”

Troy hid a smile, liking the liveliness in Max’s eye and his obvious good mood. The man looked ten years younger than he had last week. He had to give Venus credit for that—she could breathe life into any house.

“Ignore her, Max,” he said as he turned to leave the room. “It’s got a great ending.”

“What do you mean, great?” Venus asked, looking highly annoyed. “It’s tragic.”

Max covered his ears and glared. “I’m not listening.”

Troy grinned. “As far as I’m concerned,” he said in a loud whisper, “it’s a happily ever after. Any man who stayed with
her
would be completely insane within a month.” Her eyes narrowed. Before she could reply, Troy said, “Back in a minute…Scarlett.”

V
ENUS GLANCED
at the clock yet again, noting it was nearly 1:00 a.m. Though she’d gone to bed over an hour before, she still felt wide-awake. She told herself her insomnia was a product of the pizza. She knew better, however.

Men, she decided, were usually the best reason to remain awake late into the night. But the man ruining her sleep this night wasn’t in her bed, keeping her up with long, slow, erotic lovemaking that would curl her toes and leave her limp and sated. He was on the other side of the wall, probably sleeping peacefully, as comfortable and relaxed as a baby. Probably naked and warm, rumpled and ready.

She groaned.

Venus had wanted him terribly when they first met, and even more when she saw him naked—whoa, mama, had she wanted him when he was naked! But somehow it was the Troy she’d sat next to on the sofa tonight, drinking beer, licking cheesy pizza off his fingers, teasing her mercilessly about the schmaltzy sentimentality of the movie they were watching, who really had her too confused to sleep.

Damn. She enjoyed being with the man. How bizarre was that? Lust was one thing—she knew lust, she trusted lust. It was reliable and instinctive, easily assuaged. Or
usually
easily assuaged—just not in this case.

But liking? A man she enjoyed being around for the sheer pleasure of seeing the sparkle in his eyes when she baited him? For the sheer joy of exchanging sassy barbs? She’d only ever
liked
one other man with whom she’d been involved. Raul, and that hadn’t ended well. She’d pulled back as soon as she started liking him too much, knowing they had no future and she could get hurt if they continued.

There was even less of a chance of anything lasting happening between her and Troy Langtree. Sure, he wanted her. Sure, she amused him. But as for anything long-term? Impossible. He was not only in a different social stratosphere, he’d also readily admitted to being a dog when it came to women. Temporarily reformed or not, she didn’t imagine he was ever going to be the type to settle down to just one.

Besides, with Troy, having to pull back wasn’t even an issue, since they weren’t really involved. Well, unless she counted their few kisses, and the shattering orgasm he’d given her. “Don’t start thinking about that,” she told herself.

She glared at the clock, trying to push the picture of Troy Langtree out of her mind, desperate to think of something else.

Unfortunately, her thoughts easily segued to someone equally troubling to her peace of mind. Max—another man she’d never expected to like. But she did. She really liked the old guy, with his keen sense of humor—almost as wicked as her own. During the hours they’d spent together today, he’d teased her, instructed her, even joined her in pure cattiness on occasion, particularly when it came to anyone he deemed “too big for their britches.”

Max really had a dislike for condescending people. Probably explained why Leo made his teeth hurt. It was
funny that he liked Troy so much. Troy, however, wasn’t so much arrogant as he was confident. And in spite of his occasional haughtiness, he’d never been condescending toward her—even when he’d practically accused her of being a con artist.

He hadn’t mentioned it once today, and she wondered if he’d let go of his suspicions. She hoped so. For some reason she really didn’t want the man to think badly of her. And she hoped he never found out she’d taken money from Leo to come on this trip, no matter how good her reasons had been.

Now, having spent some time with Max, she had to wonder if those reasons had been good enough. “Hell, yes, they were good enough,” she muttered, tamping down any uncertainty and aiming for practicality instead. Max would be the first one to say keeping a roof over her own head and helping her foster family out were good enough reasons to take money from a weasel.

She didn’t, however, know that Troy would agree. Max was a much more pragmatic man than Troy. Perhaps because he’d suffered a lot of loss in his life. That made as much sense as anything, mainly because Venus felt pretty much the same way about herself.

In any case, it hadn’t made him bitter, and it hadn’t made him self-pitying. Instead it had made him understanding. He’d also proven to be very interested in the people around him.

Today, he’d asked her about her childhood, seeming to enjoy hearing about what an unholy terror she’d been as a kid. He’d demanded to know her favorite foods, and whether she liked roller coasters. He’d asked her about her first date…and said he was going to put a hit out on Tony Cabrini for never calling her again after relieving her of her virginity in the laundry room.

She still couldn’t believe she’d told that story to a seventy-something-year-old man. Max, she had to admit, was incredibly easy to talk to, and completely nonjudgmental.

Most importantly, he seemed to respect her unspoken desire to avoid talking about his late son. It was as if Max knew Venus was poised to bail, ready to head back to Baltimore if things got too hairy. Confronting her about the man who could be her father might be enough to put her feet in motion.

Max had somehow understood without being told. He’d been content to spend the day with her, getting to know her, enjoying her company like any two people who’d just met and believed they might have a few things in common worth exploring. Aside from that little bit of reminiscing the first evening, he hadn’t brought up his son at all.

She looked at the clock again. A whopping three minutes since the last time she’d checked. Finally realizing there was no way she was going to be able to fall asleep, she decided to go for the swim she hadn’t taken that morning. Sure it was late—one in the morning—but Max had said the pool was heated. And he’d said she was welcome to use it at any time.

Not turning on a light in her room, she pulled her swimsuit out of her suitcase and quickly donned it. She grabbed a towel out of the bathroom and silently made her way through the house, pausing only briefly outside Troy’s bedroom door.

Silence. He was probably happily dreaming about boatloads of money and lots of willing women. She wondered what he’d think if one slipped into his room right now.

Enough.

She made her way through the big house, finding her way through the downstairs with the low lighting left on by the housekeeper, who’d watched the last hour of the movie with them.

She grinned when she remembered it. Max and Troy had applauded Rhett, while Venus and Mrs. Harris had haughtily informed them that he would be back.

“He should have married the other one,” Max had said. “The nice one.”

Venus had been unable to prevent a snort. “Oh, please. That’s such a crock. Just like those old-fashioned romance novels.”

Troy had smiled. “I’m sorry to admit I haven’t read one lately. Do enlighten us.”

“There was always a wicked hero reformed by the love of a sweet, virginal ingenue who wouldn’t say crap if she stepped in it.”

Max had grabbed his handkerchief to cover his laughter. Troy had simply waited.

“And he always chose the sweet nitwit over the evil wicked other woman who was horrible enough to admit she liked sex and had a brain in her head.”

Troy had given her a knowing look. “You’re saying opposites might attract, but they don’t stay together?”

“Exactly.”

“So two wicked people are a better match?” Max had interjected, looking back and forth between Venus and Troy as if aware of the undercurrents flowing between them.

“Absolutely.” Venus had practically dared Troy to deny it.

“Even if she—how did I hear Troy put it when I didn’t cover my ears enough?—drives him completely insane within a month?”

This time Troy had answered, his eyes never leaving
Venus’s, holding her stare until she’d felt a little dizzy. “But, Max, I didn’t mean it. They were perfect together. Because insanity is better than boredom any day.”

Now, slipping quietly through the sun room to the French doors, Venus though about Troy’s comment. She agreed. Insanity was way better than boredom. But she suspected Troy had simply been flirting with her and hadn’t really meant what he’d said.

As she walked out the back door, her eyes quickly adjusted to the near darkness. Small garden lanterns illuminated the shrub-lined patio surrounding the huge free-form-shaped pool. The bright moon added its glow to light her way.

Still, it was almost dark enough that she didn’t see the man in the water until she’d reached the steps.

She heard the splash first. Freezing where she stood, Venus scanned the pool and was finally able to make out the body slicing through the water. Strong arms and shoulders lifted in a steady rhythm. Thickly muscled legs kicked efficiently as the swimmer steadily traversed the length of the pool and back. Even before she recognized the wet, dark hair and the unmistakable body, she knew who it was. Troy.

A quick burst of doubt urged her to go back inside, knowing this might well be a very dangerous situation. Every time the two of them were together, sparks flew. Even clothed, in public, in daylight, they couldn’t resist any opportunity to dance around the attraction so thick between them it could be spread on toast.

Now, late at night, half clothed, completely alone…it would be pure temptation. Definite danger.

Play it safe for a change and get out of here. Now.

But she couldn’t. Instead, she stood there, watching the way his body moved, wondering how a man could look
so masculine when doing something as basic as exercising.

Finally, after a few long, voyeuristic minutes, she watched as he paused for a breath at the ladder beside her feet. That’s when he saw her. He was nearly concealed in the water, but she could see the way his chest heaved with deeply inhaled breaths as he watched her. His eyes glittering in the moonlight, he looked her over, from head to toe, his stare deliberate and appreciative.

She still held the towel in the tips of her fingers but it did nothing to cover her body, clothed, only in the most basic sense of the word, by the skimpy, royal blue bikini.

He looked his fill, then finally murmured, “Hello, Venus.”

“Hi.”

“We both had the same idea, I see.”

She nodded. “I didn’t know you were out here.” Then, swallowing, she said, “Do you want me…to leave?”

“I want you…to do whatever it is you’d like to do,” he responded, his pause every bit as provocative as hers had been.

She dropped the towel and stepped down one rung on the ladder, sighing at the feel of the water on her feet. “Warm.”

“Very. I love swimming at night,” he admitted, looking at the flecks of moonlight shimmering on the surface of the pool. “I do this a lot at the beach at home.”

Still holding the rails for balance, and still facing him, she stepped down again, until the water reached her knees. “Night swimming in the ocean. Sounds a little too much like a blatant invitation to an all-you-can-eat buffet for any great white creatures swimming around down there.”

He laughed softly. “Actually, I think I’m more afraid of
jellyfish.” Then a look of pure devilment widened his smile. “Especially because I like to swim naked.”

In the process of stepping to the third rung, she froze and stared at him. Her eyes shifted and she glanced at the water, trying to see beneath the dark surface. “You’re, uh…”

“What?

“You like to swim naked?”

“Nothing feels better,” he assured her. His voice was low and sultry, as smooth and silky as the fabric of her bikini.

She raised a brow. “Nothing?”

“Well, one or two things,” he admitted with a soft chuckle. “But there aren’t a whole lot of physical sensations that can compare to the feel of liquid warmth against your bare skin.”

Parting her lips, she drew in a shaky breath, fully grasping his underlying meaning. She knew exactly what liquid warmth a man wanted against certain bare skin. Considering she got wet just looking at the man, she didn’t think that would be a problem.

“Don’t tell me bad, bad Venus has never skinny-dipped?”

She hadn’t, not that she’d admit it. “You think I won’t?”

He only answered with a tiny shrug as he put his head back and looked up at the star-filled sky. When he straightened, he swiped a lazy hand through his wet hair. Long streams of water glittered against his tanned skin, highlighting the corded muscles of his arm and shoulder as he moved. Another rush of pure desire spread through Venus’s veins, warming her, making her even more achy and aware with every breath she took.

It really shouldn’t be legal for a man to look so good.

“Coming?” He swam away from the wall in an easy backstroke.

As usual, when challenged, Venus reacted with bravado and instinct. Once she was sure she had Troy’s full attention, she sat down on the top rung of the ladder, nearly cooing at the pleasure of the water against her thighs and bottom. Not saying another word, she reached around her back, feeling for the tie of her bathing suit top. She undid it slowly, so intent and focused, she could almost hear the wisp of the material as the strings gave way. Then she dropped her hand, feeling the warm night air brush against the bottom curves of her partially uncovered breasts.

Troy watched from a few feet away, never taking his eyes off her. He didn’t urge her on, or try to stop her. He simply waited, more patient—more
confident
—than any man she’d ever known.

Giving him a sultry smile, she reached for the string at the back of her neck. Neither of them blinked. Venus hardly even breathed as she carefully untied the fastening. Then she let the top fall off her body, into her lap.

Though his only reaction was a slight widening of his eyes and a parting of his lips, Venus knew he liked what he saw. He couldn’t take his gaze off her.

Feeling very wanton, and very sure of her own power as a woman, Venus dipped her cupped hand into the water. She slowly raised it to her throat, pouring a trail of liquid down the front of her body. Sighing at the cool relief against her heated skin, she closed her eyes to savor the sensation.

A moment later, she reached in and drew up another handful. Again, she gently poured it on her body, focusing on the pleasure of it as the gentle droplets slid down her throat, across her collarbone, then over the curve of her breast.