All Through the Night (5 page)

Kerry finished her story with a shrug of indifference, but she was sad inside, and even though her “fearless guide” couldn’t see it, he could probably hear it. Maybe it was in how she phrased things, her syntax, but he seemed to be able to detect her moods. He was good, and so was the game.

“That was your most recent?” he asked.

“Romantic fiasco? Yes, and my quickest. So now you know why I’m wary of men.”

“I know why you’re wary of that man. He’s not worthy of your pain. He’s not worthy of anything. Kerry, save your tears for someone who knows what they cost, someone who will treasure them—and you—because he knows how deep your feelings cut. Don’t waste another drop on him.”

“Jean?” Kerry sat up to look at him.

He’d spoken with so much conviction—or was it passion—that he’d brought her up out of the chair. She studied his features, surprised at the furrows in his brow, the tension in his mouth. He could have been scowling, but he wasn’t angry. She could almost believe that he cared.

“Do you actually feel things, Jean?” she said. “I mean human feelings?”

“I’m not sure. Can a man feel things without a body?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “but a woman can
not
feel things with a body. I haven’t felt much of anything but fear in quite some time now.”

“Which is why I’m here, to help you throw open the doors and windows and feel whatever you want to feel, the entire rainbow.”

She smiled and so did he. Was that coincidence or could he see her?

“How do you feel about riddles?” he asked her.

“Pretty much the same way I feel about men… but go ahead, if you must.”

“I must,” he said with a tone of wry forebearance. “Remember the fantasy I promised you, the one that could anticipate your every need, wish and desire? I’m going to need a little more information.”

Kerry bent over and hitched up her socks, which made it that much more convenient to get up from the desk and walk over to the window. A fluttery chill passed over her, like curtains caught in an updraft. Maybe she should put on another sweatshirt.

Who said she wanted all those things anticipated?

Several moments passed, and the chilliness felt less and less like a draft. It was her skin. She was a porcupine inside out. The quills pricked her. So far, she wasn’t too crazy about this rainbow of his.

Abruptly, she said, “What’s the riddle?”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s just a riddle isn’t it?”

“Kerry… is something wrong?”

The way he said her name brought her gaze to the screen, to him. Something inside her lifted and spilled over as softly as sand in an hourglass. It turned on its head, and took her with it. Not that it was a bad feeling. Oh, no, no, no, she would have traveled the world over for that feeling. It was wonderful, as light as a handspring. But that was the good part. His voice did everything else sand could do, too—sift, drift, swirl—and suck you down into its depths.

They should offer medical coverage with this game
, Kerry thought. It was dangerous.

“Riddles can be pretty annoying,” she said.

“You’ll like this one,” he assured her. “All you have to do is describe two things you would do with a strawberry that have nothing to do with eating it.”

“A strawberry?” Not the kind of puzzle she expected. “Well, they don’t make good doorstops. I dropped an entire box of them once. Didn’t find the one hiding behind the door until it was too late. Strawberry puree.”

The small room was silent except for the soft music coming from the speakers. But outside, the neighborhood hooligans were at it again. There were shouts, cars backfiring. Kerry blocked the sounds from her mind.

“What would anyone do with a strawberry besides eat it? I suppose you could drop it in a flute of champagne.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I was hoping for something a little more imaginative.”

“Sorry, I can’t think of a thing.”

“I can tell you what
I’d
do with it.”

“Down, boy,” Kerry murmured. His voice had a sexy edge that warned her not to go there, but the remark hung in midair like a helium-filled balloon, daring her to let go of the string.

“Okay, what would you do? Make puree and massage my toes?”

“No, but that’s not bad. Actually, if I had a
very
ripe strawberry, I think perhaps I would crush it in my hand, let the juice run down my fingers and pool in my palm. When it was warm, I’d drizzle it over a very tender part of the body and delicately
lick
it off.”

“Lick it off,” she echoed faintly. “But that would be eating… wouldn’t it?”

“You’re right. Shall we go for number two?”

“No!” She was too far away to turn the machine off. Computers ought to come with remotes, dammit.

“Too bold?” he asked.

“No, no, it was fine. I always gasp as if I’d just finished a marathon.”

“Kerry… maybe you should come back here and sit down?”

She almost gasped again. “How did you know I got up?”

“The volume of your voice went down. You’re either talking very softly or you’ve moved away. Come on back. I won’t bite… I won’t even lick.”

“Gee, darn,” she said under her breath.

He laughed, and finally, she did too. She gave herself another moment and then went back, but only as far as the old leather rocker.

“We could go on with the tour,” he said, “if you’re ready.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” What a beautiful thing cynicism was. Those sharp-edged scissors kept everyone away except him. But that was only because he wasn’t real, right?

She went back to her desk and sat down, although she would love to have stretched out in the rocker. A little distance would have felt safer, she was sure.

“I’d like you to relax and think about something for a minute,” he said. “Think about your sense of touch. What does it mean to you?”

She closed her eyes and dropped back in the chair. “Everything. I love to touch. I love the feel of things. It’s very sensual, touch.”

“And being touched? How do you prefer that?”

“It depends on who’s touching me.”

“Who would you like to touch you?”

“Your voice.” She barely had the words out of her mouth before her own voice dropped to a whisper. “I’d like it all over me like a big warm blanket.”

The husky catch in her throat surprised her. And him, as well. When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her, and he seemed as perplexed as he was intrigued.

“I don’t seem to be programmed to respond to that,” he said.

Had she actually shocked him? Good, she didn’t want to be the only one.

Brightly she asked, “Too bold?”

“I don’t seem to be programmed to answer that, either.”

Kerry tilted an eyebrow. “Well, you must know that your voice is amazingly sexy. I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but I have another name for you, besides Jean, I mean.”

“And what is that?”

“It’s Mr. Quick-Where’s-My-Vibrator.”

Was he blushing? Oh, this was fun. His handsome face was now frozen in a perplexed expression, and it appeared that she’d jammed the program. Little Kerry Houston, who’d run from her workplace rather than confront her big bad boss when he had her fired, and who hid from the outside world like a hermit, had just beaten the system! At least she could fluster someone, even if it was only a virtual hunk.

“Let’s take a deep breath and start over, Kerry. Are you comfortable?”

Now he was repeating himself!

“I’m just dandy,” she said. “How are you?”

He didn’t seem to hear her. “Remember the fantasy I promised you, Kerry, the one that could anticipate your every need, wish and desire? I’m going to need a little more information.”

Poor Jean. She’d blown his fuses. “I’m not a woman without fantasies, you know. Listen, I have fantasies. I have a few fantasies that might shock you.”

He appeared to blink and wake up at that point. “Could you name one?” he asked.

“And I love to touch things, too,” she announced. “Do you know what I really love to touch? Buns, behinds, tushies, cheeks. Not that I go around doing that, but they look so firm and springy.”

“Kerry—”

“And my favorite article of men’s clothing? I know you didn’t ask, but in case you’re curious, it’s a belt. Belts are long and leathery and they buckle in the sexiest way. They’re well-placed on a man’s body,
if
you know what I mean.”

“Kerry—”

“Do you know what I mean, Jean? The place I’m thinking of that belts are close to? Do you have a pet name for yours? I like package, myself.”

“Kerry!”

“Yes?”

“I told you that there are two conditions to this journey.”

“Yes, I remember, that I entrust myself to you, and… hmm—”

“I didn’t tell you the second one.”

“Oh… right.”

“The second condition is that you don’t bluff. You can’t win this game that way. You can’t win this game without being willing to lose it, to give everything away. Do you understand me, Kerry? You have to be willing to give everything away.”

On some level, Kerry understood exactly what he meant, and now he
was
talking fantasy. She had worked too hard to make herself safe behind these walls. She couldn’t give an inch, and he wanted
everything}
Dear God.

Chapter Three

Contents
-
Prev
|
Next

“Mmmmmmmm…”

“Now there’s an interesting sound. You okay, Kerry?”

“Mmm… mmm… mmm…
mmmmmmmmm
…”

“I guess that was a yes?”

Kerry sighed deeply and felt a ripple of pleasure spiraling toward her toes. She was draped in her chair with her feet up on the desk, and the desire to stretch was so irresistible she made no attempt to fight it. She didn’t even worry how it might look as she arched her back and slowly swiveled her hips, moving her shoulders in a languid counter rhythm. Another moan slipped out, another contented sigh, another kitten purr of pleasure.

This guy was some tour guide.

He’d suggested a relaxation exercise before they began, and boy, had it worked. She was as flushed and rosy as if she’d just come out of a steam bath, and there wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t humming.

She’d been uneasy about the exercise, especially when he told her that it involved hypnosis and that he would be putting her in a light trance. But finally she’d agreed to do it. This
was
just a game. What could he do to her, after all, besides talk? But, oh, baby, could he talk. The way other men plied you with fine chocolates and kissed your fingertips, that was how he could talk. Astaire danced like he could talk. Sinatra sang. Jean’s voice was steamy stolen kisses in the backseat of an old Chevy. It was fantasy phone sex.

“Kerry… are you still with me?”

“I wish,” she murmured. It hardly mattered what the man said—it was all sweet seduction.

“You wish?”

“This must be what puff clouds feel like,” she said, releasing another languid sigh. “A little breeze, and I would be on my way, floating, floating… just floating.”

“What do you wish for, Kerry?”

“I could just float all day… did I mention I felt like a puff cloud?”

“Kerry, stay with me, girl.”

With you? I am so with you, Jean.

“You said something about a wish.”

What did she wish for? So many things…

No, just one. One little thing.

“Care to share?” he asked.

“Well, I wish I could move.” She lifted her arm and it flopped back down. “I’m as limp as linguine. That hypnosis was amazing.”

“It only works with a willing subject.”

She smiled through drooping lids. “I didn’t know I was that willing. This is a little bit of heaven, this weightless sensation. And I’m
so
warm. I’ve never been so warm.”

“You released some tension, and now you’re glowing. Technically, it’s just blood, rushing to the surface.”

“Glowing, yes, that’s exactly what it feels like.”

When he’d suggested hypnosis, she’d immediately thought of some guy on a stage, making people bark. But the sounds of a babbling brook and chirping birds had overridden her concerns, and the screen was transformed with kaleidoscopic images of slowly swirling pink clouds, sifting sands and dark green oceans.