All He Needs (All or Nothing) (14 page)

I
t was raining lightly when they landed, the cloud cover heavy and dense, not a star visible, even the moon completely shrouded. Dominic carried Kate to the waiting car and left her in the warmth of the backseat while he spoke to a customs official outside.

Dominic entered the car a few minutes later and quietly asked, “Awake?”

“Sorta.”

“We’re almost there,” he said as someone shut the car door behind him. “Fifteen minutes or so.”

“I should have dressed.” Dominic had wrapped her in a gray cashmere blanket.

“I didn’t want to wake you. Pete knows me. I’ve been flying in and out of this airport for years. He checked you and your passport when I carried you out.” Dominic smiled. “He thought you were beautiful.” Leaning over, he kissed her lightly. “I couldn’t agree more.” Resting back against the seat, he glanced out the window as the car sped down the service road. “Christ, it’s good to be home. It’s been a while.”

“You didn’t like Paris?”

“It sucked without you.” He turned his head and smiled. “Now I know the meaning of an epiphany.”

“A neural blast to your brain’s circuit board?”

“No, baby.” He touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I don’t have an IT mind. It means life sucks when you’re gone.” He took her hand, slid lower on the seat, stretched out his legs. “Now this I like,” he said, squeezing her hand. She wished she could speak as casually, but she was so deep in love
her
brain’s circuit board
was
shorting out, burning away reason, shaking her confidence. She was sure to make a muddle of any reply and then he’d look at her—confused, or worse, alarmed. So she just tightened her grip on his hand in acknowledgment.

He didn’t notice her silence, female acquiescence a given in his life. And he was distracted in any event, mentally running through his diminished work schedule. Realistically, he was never completely off the clock—unprecedented vacation or not.

Between leaving a number of time zones behind and erratically sleeping on the plane, Kate dozed off, sluggishly coming awake after the car came to a stop. Gradually opening her eyes, she saw Dominic leaning forward and talking quietly to the driver, the cadence of his voice softly definitive, the driver nodding in reply or answering in monosyllables. She turned her attention to her surroundings and surveyed the quiet, perfectly manicured neighborhood, the quiet, elegant street dense with villas on ocean-front lots with spectacular views—the scent of serious money in the air.

When she pushed herself up into a sitting position, Dominic quickly finished his conversation and turned with a smile. “How are you feeling? We just pulled up.”

“I’m fine,” she said drowsily. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight.”

The back door curb-side opened.

“Evening, Nick.” A young, ponytailed man holding an umbrella leaned in. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks, Eddy. It’s good to be back. Is this an all-night rain?”

“That’s what they’re saying. No wind though, a weak front up from the south.”

“So we won’t be getting any waves?” Dominic asked, turning back to Kate, tucking the blanket around her like a sarong, leaving an end to throw around her shoulders.

“No. Maybe by the end of the week.”

“Possibilities then.” Picking up Kate, Dominic effortlessly slid out of the car.

Her stomach always did a little flip at such blatant physical strength. Some emotional regression to caveman days, she decided with an inner smile.

With Eddy holding a huge umbrella in his slack wrist protecting them from the rain, Dominic observed the courtesies. “Eddy, Katherine Hart, Katherine, my old friend Eddy O’Brian.”

Kate smiled. “Pleased to meet you.” Fortunately her blush was masked by the night. She wasn’t as capable of ignoring her state of undress as the two men.

“Pleasure’s mine,” Eddy said in his slow drawl. “Nick doesn’t get many visitors. Nice to have you here.” He turned to Dominic. “Patty’s been cooking up a storm since you called.”

“That’s why I called.” Dominic gave Eddy an oblique look. “Jet lag,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

The tall, lanky young man smoothly stepped aside, then followed them up the path to the house, holding the umbrella. At the entrance, he nodded. “Door’s open. Get some rest.”

Kate’s gaze slid up the pale gray limestone-sheathed, three-story house, each level punctuated with large sash windows framed in white stone, a delicate French look to the exterior.

“Home sweet home, baby,” Dominic murmured, nudging the door open with his foot.

Then Kate experienced one of those kick-ass Hollywood movie moments because Dominic carried her over the threshold, shoved the door shut with his shoulder, came to a stop, and gently kissed her. “Good?” he whispered, as he raised his head.

“Super good.”
As in stealing her heart good.
“It always is with you,” she added in a flirty lilt.

“Ain’t it just,” he teasingly drawled. Then he set her on her feet and raised his brows. “Do you want the grand tour now or in the morning?” He touched the soft cashmere. “Warm enough?”

“Plenty warm.” She wiggled her toes. “Do you have heated floors everywhere?”

“Probably. Are you hungry?”

“I’m always hungry.”

“That must be why we get along.”

“Not the only reason.”

He laughed. “True. There’s that raging addiction of ours. But hold that thought until I show you the place.”

Kate had a tour of the main floor rooms: living room,
dining room, kitchen, office, a maid’s room with an empty glass and a bottle of twenty-five-year-old Macallan on the bedside table. All the furniture in the house looked lived in, not decorator magazine pristine, the big kitchen gleaming stainless steel with appliances for serious cooking.

“Impressive stove.” She waved her hand at the red enamel restaurant-size stove. “Not for you, I assume.”

“Uh-uh. That’s Patty’s. You’ll meet her later.”

The empty glass and whiskey.
“She’s here?”

“No. She’s mostly eight to five.”

“So she’ll be here eight to five?”

“Still not used to staff are you, baby?” He took her face in his hands. “If you don’t want her around, she won’t be around,” he said gently, holding her gaze. “But Patty’s been with me for a helluva long time. We get along. So think about it.” His hands slid away and he stood back.

Dominic’s casual view of hired help was light-years away from Kate’s comfort zone. “She won’t mind company like me?”

He smiled. “We’ll have to ask her. You’re the first.”

“You always say that. I don’t know if I believe you.”

He saw the blush pink her cheeks and knew what it meant. But he wanted to clear up any misunderstandings, so he said, “Believe me. You’re the first I’ve invited into any of my homes for more than a cup of coffee. Okay?”

As doubt still lingered in her eyes, he murmured, “Are you clear on your position in my life? You’re not entertainment. Not even close. You’re my girl.”

“So you’re telling me to calm down.”

“Pretty much.” A smile in his eyes, he leaned in close. “If a further explanation is required, let me know.”

Prey as always to his heart-tripping beauty, her breath caught in her throat. “That’ll do,” she murmured, having located her voice. She didn’t actually want things spelled out anyway, when her dreams were vastly different from his—just like his interpretation of
my girl
was probably less meaningful than hers.

He eased back, held out his hand. “Next floor then?”

She followed him downstairs to a level that was completely dedicated to exercise. She saw every imaginable machine, every free weight—most of which she couldn’t have lifted—a lap pool and a mirrored tai chi studio he only waved to in passing. But he did say, “The tai chi studio’s just for me, okay?”

When she didn’t respond, he pulled her to a stop. “That’s the truth.”

Heart pounding, she only blinked and nodded, those jarring Christmas photos forever etched on her psyche.

He didn’t elaborate. He knew better. “I’ll show you the upstairs, then we’ll find something to eat.”

Four bathrooms, four bedrooms, a smaller office, his large bedroom overlooking the ocean conspicuously filled with boy’s things: baseball caps, footballs and soccer balls, a dirt bike shoved in a corner, three PlayStations, two iPods, a pair of skis, two surfboards, a guitar, a bong. Surfing photos everywhere.

She made a slow turn in the middle of the room, taking in the memorabilia of his youth. “You’ve been here awhile.”

He hadn’t moved from the door. “Quite a while. I don’t like change. Or at least not here.”

“I can tell.”

He ran a slow hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, some change is nice. Like having you here.” He spoke with a kind of muffled reluctance, his clear eyes on her. He opened his mouth to speak, shut it, stood there broad shouldered and lean under his faded North Coast T-shirt, narrow-hipped in his jeans, his brooding gaze fixed on her. Then without a word, he covered the distance between them, this man in a boy’s room, strong and powerful now, ruthless and logical, never possessive,
never, never, never
—except with her. He slid his hand around the back of her head, cupped it in his large palm, slowly pulled her up against the sleek, hard length of his body, and lowered his mouth to hers. “I need to be inside you.”

His low, soft growl reminded her of how defenseless she was against his casual commands, how she felt with him inside her, how he could make her forget everything but pleasure. And her body stirred as it always did when he looked at her like that, his intentions clear. “How far inside?” she purred in a soft throaty contralto, her green gaze feline and sultry, deliberately provocative.

“Stop it.” His voice was cool, his gaze suddenly distant, like an abrupt downshift in a transmission, her sex kitten come-on a jarring flash of déjà vu, the number of women who’d offered themselves to him infinite. “I’m not paying you by the hour.” There was an acid pause before he spoke again. “Frankly, you don’t have the skills.”

Her arm shot out, her eyes hot with spleen.

He caught her palm before it hit his face, held it lightly in further insult as she struggled to break free. “Careful,” he said, unbalanced by the flashback, wondering for the first time whether he was being played. “You might get hurt.”

“Are you threatening me?” She cocked her head as though they were actually having a conversation, as if the dripping sarcasm in her voice was honey; ignoring the fact that he was towering over her, his eyes like flint. “Are you going to bring out the whips?”

He stared at her so long, his gaze unflinching, that she wondered if she’d finally stepped over some invisible mark, if she’d shot her mouth off one too many times and something unpleasant was going to happen. Then his unblinking stare disappeared as quickly as it had arrived and he was back in her time and space.

“Relax.” Dominic smiled slowly. “You wouldn’t know what to do if I brought out a whip.” And whether he was being played or not was irrelevant to his immediate plans. “All I need from you, baby, is for you to spread your legs. You know how to do that.”

Her temper instantly shot back up to a full boil.
“Let go!”
she said through her teeth.

Her eyes were free of fear. He’d always liked that about her. “If I were to let go”—he took a moment to sort through the clutter in his brain: the resentment at the great upheavals she’d made in his life, the goddamn horniness that never went away, and perhaps most, the unsettling trauma of having her in this room—“you can’t leave.”

“Don’t say
can’t
Dominic,” she said, staring at him stonily. “You really aren’t paying me by the hour. In fact, we don’t have by-the-hour playmates where I come from.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” But he dropped her hand and opened his arms wide; the brilliant negotiator complying. “I take back the
can’t.
Your move, baby.”

“That’s such bullshit.”

He smiled, weirdly pleased with her defiance. “I know. Come fuck me.”

“I’m not in the mood,” she said icily.

“Pity,” said the man who had gone out and conquered the world. “Maybe next time.” And reaching out, he placed his hands on her hips, hauled her close despite her curses and squirming, dipped his head, and stopped her swearing with a hard, punishing kiss. Ramming his tongue down her throat to make his point about who was in charge, he took advantage of her choking surprise to slide his hands under her arms and, holding her at arm’s length, moved toward the bed—ignoring her wild punches, her kicking feet, as if contentious sex were the norm in his life.
Oh, that’s right, it was.
Reaching the queen-size bed covered in a brilliant blue and green psychedelic silk-screen quilt, he tossed her in its general direction, then dragged his T-shirt over the back of his head and let it drop.

“Goddamn it,” Kate gasped, her breath knocked out of her. “Have you… no fucking… respect?”

“Respect?” Dominic looked at her with amusement. “What are you—some Southern belle for Christ’s sake?” His voice was mellow. “No one gives a shit about that. Unless you’d like to respect
my
wishes and spread your legs,” he added with soft mockery. “Although I’m guessing that’s not what you had in mind.” Leaning down, he jerked the blanket off her with one hand and unzipped his jeans with his other. Then, in the process of freeing the button on his waistband, he suddenly lunged for the bed.

Catching Kate’s ankle before she could scramble away,
he dragged her back and flipped her over. “You’re making this harder than it has to be, Katherine,” he said mildly, ignoring the fire in her eyes. “You know you like to fuck. That’s pretty well documented. What’s your problem?”

“You’re my problem. You’re fucking crazy.”

The words rang out in the quiet room.

His eyes widened a little; otherwise he was absolutely still. “What?”

“You heard me. You need a fucking therapist.”

There was a short silence.

“Don’t forget you’re in my house. I’d watch your mouth if I were you.”

She ignored the implicit threat in his voice, the small insistent twitch along his jaw. “I’ve been in lots of your houses.”