French Kiss Part 11

"She started watching Fantastic Four for the umpteenth time. But she fell asleep pretty fast." He smiled faintly. "She was worn out."

"After three martinis, I don't suppose Vernie put up any fuss about going to bed, either." Nicky wasn't sure how long she could remain calm when the heat from his body was bombarding her senses. Smile politely and think good thoughts, her voice of reason suggested, loosely paraphrasing the advice Queen Victoria had given her daughter on her marriage-"Lie back and think of England."

"Vernie was out before Jordi." He offered her a sympathetic look. "You must be tired, too."

"I'm oka y ," she managed to say. "I slept last night."

"I didn't, but I'm too psyched about having Jordi back to be tired."

Was that a hidden clue; was he saying he was good for all night? Did that mean he wouldn't take offense if she jumped him? "It's great how everything worked out with Jordi," she said, feeling the weight of virtue on her shoulders as she responded responsibly.

"The understatement of the century," he murmured. "Getting her away from Lisa's crowd was a relief. Those guys my ex knows have fathers who launder more money than Enron ever did."

The thought of actual criminal activity was mega-sobering. "They don't sound like nice characters," she said, a jolt of apprehension partially mitigating her l.u.s.t.

"No s.h.i.+t. They're way the h.e.l.l out of Lisa's league. But she likes the drugs, and they have it by the truckload."

Funny how actual fear could raise havoc with s.e.xual desire. "These guys aren't run-of-the-mill street dealers, are they?" she asked, nervous now.

He shook his head. "This is big-time worldwide traffic."

"Jesus." Her heart did a nervous pit-a-pat. "Like in the movies."

"Unfortunately, it's not the movies," he said, ultra - calm, like they were talking about the weather. "No way do you want to f.u.c.k with these people."

"No kidding?" She could feel th e hairs rise on the back of her neck. "Maybe we should find another hotel. Or another country. Black Duck didn't prepare me for stuff like this."

"We're out of here soon. It's not a problem anyway."

She must have seen too many movies about drugs that had bad endings. "You're way more cavalier about this than I am."

"In my business I run into big money that isn't always on the up and up. People like that are always looking for legitimate investments. They like the glitz and glamour of the entertainment world; they can get rid of some money legitimately and also rub shoulders with-" He glanced up at the knock on the door. "Excuse me," he said, coming to his feet. "The cognac's here."

Or maybe drug dealers with guns, Nicky thought, the knock on the door ultra-discreet like maybe it was some cunning artifice, and seconds from now she'd be blown away by an automatic weapon with a silencer.

But as Nicky was bracing herself against the worst-case scenario playing in her head, Johnny opened the door to a young waiter with a dusty bottle of cognac. After politely bon soiring them, he set about opening the bottle and pouring them each a gla.s.s of an obviously very old liquor.

Johnny handed the man a large bill, then glanced at Nicky. "Tell him we appreciate the quick se rvic e."

She did, the man told her to tell Johnny how much he liked his record label, and after a few minutes more of translating a conversation about specific artists the waiter favored along with a ton of effusive praise for Johnny, the man left.

"I suppose you get that a lot. Adulation."

"More than I need, that's for sure," he said, sitting down again and handing her a cognac. "I'm only the producer. I don't make the music. Cheers." He lifted his gla.s.s. "This is usually good."

It was, in a slightly fruity, high-octane way. Her previously heated senses revived, her close proximity to a man who no doubt featured in thousands of women's dreams was not without its potent effect. And since no killers had materialized, her morbid fears had been dispelled. Also, he smelled divine, not something she usually noticed-then again, maybe the men she dated didn't buy their cologne in the same high-end shops as Johnny Patrick.

She found herself thinking she'd like to lick him all over he smelled so good, the fragrance kind of vanilla-ee with a hint of- really... she had to say chocolate. Was that possible? If she hadn't had wine at dinner, two small bottles of champagne, and now cognac, she might not have said, "Is that chocolate I smell in your cologne, or am I crazy?"

"Dunno," he said like a guy would. "I get it at a shop in San Francisco. I t' s French, though. I forget the name."

"I adore chocolate." Oops, that was open to a possible subtext, and she'd warned herself about openly drooling over him. "I mean I eat it all the time. Oh, s.h.i.+t," she muttered, flus.h.i.+ng pink at his smirk. "Strike those last inanities. I just like your cologne, that's all."

"Don't get bent out of shape. I like a h.e.l.luva lot more than your perfume, or I wouldn't be here."

That was nice. Succinct, yet sweet. "So this isn't any port in a storm."

"No storm here, babe. I know what I'm doing."

"It's good one of us does. I'm not so sure."

His brows rose. "Of?"

She blew out a breath. "Celebrity types like you." Her anxieties about a.s.sa.s.sins giving way to more basic, everyday doubts.

He grinned. "That's all bulls.h.i.+t. I'm as ordinary as the next guy."

"Puleese."

"Okay, so I know a few more people than you."

"A-list people who are all infinitely familiar with the red carpets of the world."

"What's that got to do with this?" His dark gaze was suddenly intense. "Seriously?"

She held his gaze for a moment, then melted under his boyish smile, which appeared like suns.h.i.+ne after the rain and effectively obliterated the red carpets of the world in one fell swoop. He looked like a kid from some small California town.

"So can we dispense with the celebrity s.h.i.+t?" he murmured.

"Yeah, I guess." It was incredible how he could transform himself with that f.u.c.king sweet smile.

"And we're not going to get hung up on anything more than having a good time?"

"I guess."

He laughed. "You're gonna give me a complex."

She grinned. "Maybe it's about time someone did."

"So, you're gonna take me on?"

"I was thinking about it."

"Not as long as I've been thinking about it."

"Betcha."

"Since I first saw you," he said smoothly, not an amateur with women.

"Okay... we're even. You looked d.a.m.ned nice in that Speedo."

"Jordi liked you right off, too." That at least was true-as for him... maybe he had noticed her and just didn't let it register.

His daughter was that important to him. Christ, she felt like crying or at least breaking into one of those songs from a family movie like The Sound of Music. "So are we done with this cognac?"

"Are you asking?"

"I guess I am." s.h.i.+t, she wasn't going to.

"I'm glad. Being a gentleman is really f.u.c.king hard."

His gratifying candor along with his smile went a long way toward a.s.suaging her moment of guilt. Setting his gla.s.s down, he took hers and placed it next to his. "You can still change your mind," he said, pulling her to her feet. "But five minutes from now," he added with a grin, "I can't give any guarantees."

"Back at you. I've been restraining my carnal impulses. Be forewarned."

"Nice," he murmured, drawing her in to his body. "An a.s.sertive woman. I like that."

"Not as much as I like this," she whispered, moving her hips against his blatant erection. "You'd better have protection."

"No problem."

"We're good then."

"One small caveat."

Uh-oh, here's where he'll say, I need you to sign a release. No stories to the tabloids. "What?" She leaned back a little to meet his gaze.

"I just don't want this to screw up Jordi's tree house."

"This one-night stand, you mean."

He wasn't sure of her tone of voice, but he was sure about what he needed from her long term. "I just don't want you to be p.i.s.sed later and shelve our deal."

"So you p.i.s.s off a lot of women?"

That ambiguous tone again, but he answered honestly because there was no point in not. "Once in a while," he said.

She put her hands on his chest and pushed him away.

f.u.c.k, he thought. He'd blown it.

"s.e.x is s.e.x in my world. Tree houses are tree houses"-she smiled-"and never the twain shall meet. How's that?"

"You made my day, babe." He pulled her back.

"Just so long as you make my night, honey, everything will be kick-a.s.s."

He grinned. "Now I'm feeling the pressure."

"You mean the tabloids have been wrong-you can't satisfy five women in one night?"

"I didn't say that."

"Arrogant man."

He smiled. "It ain't braggin' if you can do it."

"Now I am looking forward to the night."

"Kidding aside," he said sof tl y, "so am I."

He led her into the bedroom like he'd been there before, but she wasn't about to quiz him on his understanding of the hotel floor plans when she had better things to do. Her libido was focused on short-term goals in the form of instant gratification.

And who wouldn't be with the quintessential stud Johnny Patrick-of five women in one night fame-drawing her toward the bed. Not to mention, he was so handsome, you could practically come just looking at him. A shallow a.s.sessment, perhaps, but true. Which brought her senses all aquiver, her pleasure centers revving up for action and "AN-TI-CI-P-A-A-TION" singing big-time in her brain.

"Sit for a minute," he said, lifting her up on the canopied bed. "I'll open the curtains. We're high enough up to see the Eiffel Tower from here."

She felt like saying that she didn't know if she had a minute-if she could actually put two words together in a coherent sentence.

He seemed not to notice-women bereft of speech perhaps a given in his life. "You'll like the view," he said.

She smiled and nodded, although the view she was looking at right now was more than fine, thank you. One could willingly drown in those s.e.xy eyes, his smile was capable of melting the polar ice cap, while his hard, muscled body... "Could the view wait," she said on a suffocated breath.

A quick, flickering a.s.sessment, then a flash of a smile. "Not a problem," he murmured, reaching down to push her skirt up over her thighs. "You need some instant gratification, right?" It was a question that didn't require an answer, because he'd already slipped his middle finger under the crotch of her panties and was running his finger down her silky wet cleft. "Ummm, nice..."

Hard-up, impatient, she s.h.i.+vered at the s.e.xually explicit male appreciation in his rough/soft tone.

"You wouldn't have lasted if we'd gone for a drink." Sliding his finger up her v.a.g.i.n.a, he whispered against her mouth, "How about we get you off?" As he kissed her, he added a second finger to the first, then with slightly more difficulty, a third. "Hey, hey, relax," he soothed, gently pus.h.i.+ng her down on her back with his other hand. "We're gonna take this slow and easy..."

He didn't really expect a reply, with her eyes going shut and her hips arching up into his ha nd. Although if he needed a go- ahead, her soft, breathy moan was as good a one as he'd heard.

And he'd heard a bunch.

Oh-oh-oh-oh-G.o.d!! In the grip of a feverish delirium, a hot, seething rapture flooded her senses as Johnny's slender fingers moved inside her with a right-on-target, done-this-before incredible sensitivity. Delicately stroking and ma.s.saging, he forced his way in re-e-al-ly slowly, pressing gently on that little rough spot on the roof of her v.a.g.i.n.a both coming and going-over and over again, retracing his route with the kind of virtuoso concentration and expertise that was going to take her over the edge real, real, real soon.

Especially when his thumb was on her c.l.i.t at the same time, his doing-the-tango combination a sure winner.

"A p.u.s.s.y this wet is gonna last for hours," he whispered, a smile underlying his low, husky tone.

Okay-that did it. Not that she had much farther to go-but the thought of hours in bed with Johnny Patrick's great hands and hard c.o.c.k, not to mention his sweet f.u.c.k-me talk-was all she needed to push... her... overthebrink!

Her climax kicked off with a tiny, s.h.i.+mmering tremor that rippled outward from her hot, throbbing core in ever-widening circles, quickly picking up speed and intensity until it reached the outer limits of sensation where it detonated with such explosive force, her shrill o.r.g.a.s.mic scream startled even a man who thought he'd heard it all.

Holy s.h.i.+t, he thought, his ears ringing. This little tree-house architect was one f.u.c.king hot number.

Not only did she come in literally seconds.

He was pretty d.a.m.ned sure she wasn't faking it.