Читать книгу The Wedding Party And Holiday Escapes Ultimate Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Aimee Carson - Страница 123

Nothing will change for you until you take control of your life and decide that you will be happy. You need movement in a positive forward direction.

—excerpt from The Modern Woman’s Guide to Divorce (And the Joy of Staying Single)

There were orgasms, and then there were orgasms. The kind that grabbed hold and didn’t let go until the absolute last bit of energy had been wrenched out. The kind that released so many endorphins and pheromones that it took several minutes for her body to realize it was twisted like a pretzel, to register that the tingling in her back was not from arousal, but the sharp stucco facade shredding her skin like cheddar on a cheese grater.

“Ow.”

Dillon lifted his head from her shoulder, where he’d dropped it a few minutes ago while he caught his breath. He shifted and she winced. “Problem?”

“Wall…sharp.”

Only then did she notice the grimace on his face.

“Disengage your claws and I’ll let you down.”

Oh, jeez! She hadn’t even realized she was still clinging to him. She loosened her grip and he eased her away from the wall and set her on her feet.

He pulled her into the bedroom, into the light. “Turn around. Let me see the damage.”

He examined her back and she watched him over her shoulder, trying to gauge his expression. “How bad is it?”

“Is the dress you’re wearing for the wedding backless by any chance?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Then it’s bad.”

“How bad?”

“It looks like someone ran a belt sander across your back. And you have pieces of the wall still stuck to your skin.”

“That would explain the pain, I guess.”

He touched her lightly between her shoulder blades and the sting made her wince. “We need to get this cleaned up.”

He turned her again and nudged her in the direction of the bathroom. When they were inside he switched on the light. Just like her bathroom, it was really bright with lots of mirror space. Miles of it. The floor-to-ceiling kind that screamed out each and every detail, down to the tiniest imperfection. Ivy crossed her arms over her breasts and sucked in her tummy, wishing she could suck in her hips, too. And her butt.

Dillon had no imperfections, she noticed, as he rummaged through his shaving kit. Nope. He looked just fine. Nicely shaped butt, muscular thighs…

He turned and crouched down to check the cupboard under the sink. She had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping in horror.

He emerged with a first aid kit, and when he saw the look on her face asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Your tuxedo isn’t backless, is it?”

He turned to the mirror, inspecting the long red welts criss-crossing his back from his shoulders all the way down to his butt. “I never knew you had such a wild side.”

She bit her lip. “Sorry.”

He hooked a hand behind her neck, drew her to him and kissed her. Not quite passionate, but not a peck, either. “Darlin’, that was not a complaint.”

He let her go and set the first aid kit on the bathroom counter. He rummaged through it for cotton and antiseptic. How could he be so casual? Didn’t he feel the least bit self-conscious standing there naked? She sure did.

“Turn around.” He dabbed antiseptic on the cotton.

“This might sting.”

When the cool liquid touched her raw skin she tensed and sucked in a breath.

“Sorry.” He dabbed slowly and gently, starting at the top and working his way down. She wondered what he was thinking. If he was looking at her and noticing the way her body had…spread.

“My body has changed,” she said, in case he hadn’t noticed. So he wouldn’t suddenly look at her and think Ack, who is this cow I’ve been sleeping with? “I don’t look like I did in college.”

“Good,” he said, looking at her in the mirror. “I’m turned on by women, not girls.”

Oh, well, lucky her.

He tossed the used cotton in the trash and fished out a fresh one. “Besides, you don’t really look all that different.”

“I think your memory is failing.”

“My memory is crystal clear,” he said, flashing a devious grin over her shoulder. “I have video.”

Video? “What kind of video?”

“The video,” he said.

Her jaw dropped and her heart bottomed out. She hadn’t thought about the video for years. She had no reason to, considering he’d told her he erased it.

“Our special video?” she asked. “The one you absolutely swore you got rid of?”

“I lied.”

There were things on that video that she’d done for him, done to herself, without him in the frame, that he could have at any time used against her. He could have ruined her career. Her life!

“All done.” He tossed the used cotton in the trash and turned her toward him.

“Why did you keep it?”

“I wasn’t planning on using it against you, if that’s what you’re thinking. We made that for us. No one else is going to see it. Ever.”

Well, that was good to know. And it made her feel like even more of a slime for the things she’d written in her book. How could she have been so vindictive and immature? He’d had the ammunition to retaliate big-time, but he hadn’t done it.

“I am such an ass,” she said.

He sat on the edge of the counter and pulled her closer, between his slightly parted knees. God, he was beautiful. And she must be completely nuts, totally off her rocker to be standing here naked with him, casually chatting, as though they hadn’t just had sex so wild and out of control that they’d required first aid afterward.

And it would be a lie if she said she didn’t want to do it again.

“Are you angry?” he asked.

She wasn’t sure what to feel.

He pried her arms from their position guarding her chest and took her hands in his, weaving his fingers through hers. “The truth is, I don’t really know why I kept it. I didn’t even remember I had it until about a week ago. It was stashed in the back of my safe.”

A ripple of excitement, a shiver of anticipation, rippled across her skin. “Did you…watch it?”

He nodded.

Oh. My. God.

Just talking about it was getting him hard again. Not just getting. He was already there. And she was feeling that warm, fuzzy sensation. It started in her scalp and worked its way south toward her toes in a slow, easy rush.

She could hardly believe what she was going to ask next. Something was definitely wrong with her. “Then what did you do?”

A grin quirked up the corner of his mouth. “Are you sure you want to know?”

She did and she didn’t. But mostly she did, despite the fact that it was a little depraved and incredibly kinky.

She nodded.

“I watched it…” He rounded his hands over her hips, pulled her a little closer. “Then I went up to my room…” He leaned forward and nibbled her neck, her shoulder. “I took off my clothes…” His breath was warm on her ear and Ivy felt hot and cold all over—

“Then I took a very long, cold shower.”

Embarrassment burned her cheeks. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. “That was mean.”

He laughed. “I had you going, though.”

She took a moment to breathe in his scent, to enjoy the way their bodies fit together, every dip and curve. It felt exactly the same. It felt…right.

And so wrong.

“What are we doing, Dillon?” She looked up at him. “We’re divorced.”

“Last I heard there’s no law against sleeping with your ex.” He tucked her hair back behind her ears. It was such a simple, sweet gesture of affection. One you did after being with someone for a long time. And that was kind of what this felt like. As though they hadn’t really been apart for ten long years. It was as if it had been a week or two and they were picking up exactly where they’d left off.

Only wiser.

“How’s your back feel?”

Back? What back? With his arms wrapped around her, his body warm and close, she hadn’t even noticed. “It feels much better.”

“I guess we got a little carried away.”

“I guess we did.”

“I pride myself on my stamina, but you took me down in seconds flat,” he admitted. “Before tonight, no one has ever managed to do that.”

“Is that a fact?” She took his hands and pulled him backward toward the door. “Well, then, May be we oughtta’ go into the bedroom and see if I can do that again.”

It mystified Ivy how some things never changed. She and Dillon had fallen easily back into their old routine. They made love, talked for a while, then made love again. Repeating the cycle until the hazy light of dawn crept up on them.

It was as frightening as it was settling. To know someone so well, but not really know them at all. To realize that as good as it could be, they had nowhere to take this. No future.

They lay curled up in the dark under the covers facing each other, arms and legs entwined, as though they couldn’t bear the idea of not touching each other. Not being close. Not looking each other in the eye.

May be because they both knew that after this week it might never happen again.

“Why didn’t you ever remarry?” she asked him.

He shrugged. “I guess once was enough. How about you?”

“I guess I never met anyone I liked enough to make that kind of commitment.”

“You always were a little commitment phobic,” he said, but she could tell by his smile he was teasing. “How many times did I have to ask you out before you finally said yes?”

“Enough that I realized you weren’t ever going to stop asking. I was so nervous on that first date. I was so afraid you were going to try to take advantage of me. But you were a perfect gentleman.”

“And it nearly killed me. The way I wanted you.” He smiled and shook his head. “That was the longest three months of my entire life.”

“I never told you this, but you were my first.”

“Yeah, I sorta figured.”

“You never said anything.”

“I thought that if you wanted me to know you would have said so.”

“Right from the start we didn’t talk to each other, did we? We couldn’t be honest. May be we just didn’t know how.”

“I guess we finally figured it out,” he said.

“Yeah, ten years too late.”

“Is it?”

“Is it what?”

“Too late.”

He couldn’t be serious. She propped herself up on her elbow. “You know that after this week, this has to end. It can’t go any further than this bedroom. If it were to get out, that would be the end of my career. My writing, my practice. I would lose everything.”

He sighed and rolled onto his back. “I guess that is a lot to ask, isn’t it?”

“Besides, my mom would disown me if you and I ever got back together.”

He grinned. “She never did like me much.”

“And how would your mother react if you brought me home for dinner?”

“I’m thinking…stroke, heart attack.”

She scooted up close to him and rested her head on his chest, sighed as his arms went around her. She had gone far too long without this. When she got back to the States, she would have to start dating again. Start living her life instead of watching it roll past without her. “We have until Sunday. Three more days. Let’s just enjoy them while we can.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

It was a good plan, so why couldn’t she shake the feeling, the fear, that three days with Dillon wouldn’t be nearly enough?

A loud, insistent pounding roused Ivy from a dead sleep. She tried to open her eyes but the room was too bright.

What time was it?

She squinted at the clock. They’d been sleeping for a whole three and a half hours.

The pounding stopped, then immediately started up again. Beside her, Dillon groaned and stuffed the pillow over his head.

She gave him a poke. “Someone is knocking on your door.”

“No kidding,” he said, his voice muffled and cranky. He never had been a morning person. Of course, they hadn’t gone to sleep until after seven, so this was technically like the middle of the night. “They’ll go away.”

They didn’t. Whoever it was pounded harder, then Dale called, “Dillon, wake up! It’s important!”

Dillon mumbled and cursed. He flung the covers off and rolled out of bed, naked and beautiful. She couldn’t have asked for a better view. A full moon in the morning.

She watched as he grabbed his robe and shoved his arms through the sleeves, then stomped to the door. He flung it open and in his cranky voice asked, “What?”

“Have you seen Blake and Deidre?”

“Of course not. I was sound asleep.”

“Well, they’re not here,” Dale said. “No one knows where they are.”

“And you think they’re in here with me? You picked a hell of a time to pretend you give a shit about your brother. They probably went out to breakfast or something.”

“I don’t think so. They left yesterday afternoon, and they haven’t been back.”

Ivy sat up in bed, instantly awake.

“Are you sure they haven’t been here?” Dillon asked. The crankiness was gone and concern had crept in to take its place.

“The rental car was gone all night and their bed wasn’t slept in.”

Fear lodged in Ivy’s gut. Deidre had been in pretty bad shape the other night. Ivy should have checked on her yesterday. She should have made sure she was okay.

What if she’d had another meltdown? What if she was in a hospital somewhere?

“I thought Ivy might know where they are,” Dale said, “but I can’t find her, either.”

“I haven’t seen her,” Dillon lied.

Something was definitely not right. Deidre wouldn’t just take off. Not without telling someone.

Ivy wrapped herself in the sheet and joined Dillon at the door. “Did you try calling her cell?”

It was almost funny the way Dale’s mouth fell open, how he looked from her, to Dillon, then back to her.

“Oh, there you are, Ivy,” Dillon said, acting surprised to see her. “How did you get in here?”

She shot him a look, then turned to Dale. “Did you call their cell phones? Deidre always keeps hers on and charged. She’s fanatical about it.”

“I tried calling them both and the calls go straight to voice mail.”

“Did you try calling your parents?” Dillon asked.

He shook his head. “I didn’t want to worry them.”

“Something isn’t right,” Ivy said.

“You know my brother. With our parents flying in tonight, there’s no way Blake would just take off.”

“Give us five minutes to get dressed,” Dillon said.

“Then we’ll figure out what to do.”

“The only thing left to do is call the police,” Dillon told everyone an hour and a half later.

They had called everyone they could think of who might possibly know where Deidre and Blake went. Friends, family, coworkers. They called the local hospital to see if anyone matching their descriptions had been admitted, and checked CNN just in case any accidents or unidentified tourists had been found. They had covered all the bases, and they had come up with nothing.

Deidre and Blake were gone.

“We shouldn’t be so quick to jump to conclusions,” one of the Tweedles said. Dillon still couldn’t tell them apart.

“Yeah,” the other one added. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

Everyone else was worried, while those two had done nothing but sulk. Probably because the attention was no longer focused on them.

Ivy was handling it the worst. She couldn’t sit still. Dillon would convince her to sit down and relax, and she would be back up again in a minute or two, peering out the window for a sign of their car. Checking her cell phone for a missed call, even though it hadn’t once left her hand.

“We should make the call,” Dale said, and Calvin nodded in agreement.

Dillon flipped open his phone and was getting ready to dial when they heard a car coming up the driveway.

Ivy dashed to the window. “They’re back!”

Relief hit Dillon hard and swift, like a sucker punch in the gut. He snapped his phone shut and slipped it back into the holster. Blake had better have had a damned good excuse for scaring them all half to death.

Tweedle number one followed Ivy to the window and peered out. “See, I told you they were fine.”

Ivy turned and shot her a look. One that would have scared Dillon had he been on the receiving end.

“She’s got a lot of nerve just taking off,” number two said indignantly. “Does she think we actually want to be here?”

No, Dillon thought, they had made it pretty clear they were there under duress.

Ivy didn’t say a word, but he could see her temper rising. Her cheeks were getting red and blotchy and her fists were clenching and unclenching. And her foot was tapping. Bad sign. If those two knew what was good for them they would quit while they were ahead. Especially with Ivy standing within swinging distance. He knew from experience that you could only push her so far before she blew, and she looked as though she was more than halfway there already.

“Enough, Heather,” Dale said.

They actually had names. Go figure. And he was getting kind of attached to Dum and Dee.

“Why are you getting mad at me?” Heather snapped back. “I’m not the one with the problem. You should have seen the way she flipped out the other night.”

“Yeah,” number one agreed. “It’s not our fault that she’s too fat to fit in her dress.”

The last word had barely left her mouth and Ivy was already in midswing. Dillon scarcely had time to cringe before she connected. One quick, solid right jab, and Tweedle number one was on the ground, holding her jaw.

Everyone else stood in stunned silence. Even number two, aka Heather, didn’t seem to know what to say. Or May be she just didn’t want to be the next one to go down.

Then the door flew open and Deidre burst through, Blake close behind. “Hi, everyone! We’re back!”