Defy the World Tomatoes (25 page)

“Around you? Never.” But she had to grab for his shoulders as he lifted her off her feet. Parting her thighs, he entered her with a single, slick slide, and she wound her legs around his hips to hang on. Steam billowed around them, as though they were making love in a warm, spice-scented cloud.

He kissed her deeply and slid a hand between them to rub her in time with his thrusts. Riding that shimmering thrill, she bent her head to nip at his shoulder. He quickly caught her mouth again and shoved her back against the tile. For a long, breathless moment, he held her hips still, then with a final deep lunge, he carried her along with him into a release so intense he had to grab for the shower head to remain on his feet.

Also overwhelmed with an aching pleasure, Darcy slid from his embrace, left the shower enclosure and caught a thick velour towel on her way to bed. Still dripping wet, she flopped across the towel and, with no more than a satisfied moan, fell asleep.

Equally sated, Griffin paused to rinse off the soap bubbles before leaving the shower. He wrapped a black towel around his hips, then hesitated at the doorway. He planned to join Darcy for a very long nap and then start over right where they’d left off, but first, he had to check for messages from Interpol.

Just as he’d suspected, they were provoked with him for not remaining in contact, but he refused to offer what would have been a totally insincere apology. His monitor filled with a photo-montage of the woman who had introduced herself as Adriana LeMer in Chicago. Some were posed, as she was indeed a haute couture model, while others were candid shots taken in a variety of European cities.

Only the last photo interested Griffin, for it showed her walking along a Paris street hand-in-hand with Lyman Vaughn. He didn’t need any further interpretation from Interpol’s experts to recognize Simon Jordan and Lyman Vaughn were one and the same.

That meant he had no choice about playing the private concert in Paris, but far more troubling was his promise to Darcy not to lie.

Chapter Fourteen

Hunger woke Darcy shortly after noon. Nearly a forgotten sensation, it took her a moment to place the gnawing emptiness for what it was. She dimly recalled a late night peanut butter sandwich, but now she could almost taste a turkey dinner with all the trimmings.

She turned and found Griffin, his head propped on his hand, observing her. He was clean shaven, his hair combed, but clad only in a towel.

She yawned and whipped the bedspread up over her bare backside. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Griffin reached out to caress her cheek. “I needed the time to think.”

Alarmed by his solemn mood, Darcy sat up and twisted the cream-colored bedspread across her breasts. “Look, if you want me to leave, I’ll just go.”

Griffin shook his head, reached for her and whispered against her lips, “No, this is what I want.”

His kiss was sweetly insistent. He traced her lips with the tip of his tongue, then angled kisses along her jaw and down her throat to the soft hollow where his necklace lay. He licked her collar bones, then slid lower to peel away the bedspread and suckle at her breasts.

Blissfully distracted, Darcy arched her back to lean into him. She wound her fingers in his hair, then spread her hands across his shoulders as he moved lower still.

With an easy shift of position, he moved between her legs, slid her knees over his shoulders and dipped a finger into her slit to smooth the way before he began to tease her with his tongue. He lapped gently, then slipped inside her with quick jabs. All the while, he caressed her thighs and breasts with a feather-light touch.

Darcy raised her arms above her head to grasp the headboard and rolled her hips to move with him. He reached up to pinch her nipples, and she flexed her inner muscles to slow his strokes. That he was always such an adoring lover was a constant thrill, and her slow smile spread wide as she plotted how best to return the favor.

In no rush, he paused frequently to allow the delicious sensations he created to subside before he again brought her close to the inevitable peak. Her appreciative moans inspired him to shift his position again to tease her sensitive folds with the smooth head of his cock. He rocked above her, intent upon satisfying them both, and when her breath came in short grateful bursts, he thrust deep and rode the ripples of ecstasy shooting through her until they overflowed into him as well.

Locked in his arms, Darcy lay in a languid daze until she felt him stir. Then she blew softly against his ear and whispered, “If making love gets any better, I sure hope you know CPR.”

Griffin propped himself on his elbows and looked down at her. “I assume that was a compliment, but you’re a powerful inspiration.”

Darcy would have said he was awfully tempting himself, but a puzzling shadow crossed his smile and stopped her. “You’ve got more than sex on your mind. Are you sorry you offered to extend our lease?”

“No, not at all. We do need to talk, though, but not here.” He rolled off the bed and rewrapped his towel low on his hips. “You get dressed first, and I’ll check the kitchen. There has to be something we can eat.”

He was the most direct individual she’d ever known, but he’d glanced away as he’d spoken, and she knew instinctively that something was wrong. She rose on her knees and called to him before he reached the door.

“Hey, did you bring me up here just to say good-bye?”

Griffin rested his hand on the doorjamb. “If you think that was a sample of my good-byes, then your thinking’s so muddled you need breakfast worse than I do. Now hurry up and get dressed.”

Rather than point out he was again being evasive, Darcy entered the bathroom, but she hadn’t been fooled. Her heart fell as she realized how swiftly he might demand something from her in exchange for the new lease. Appalled to be so cynical, she took her time getting downstairs.

When she entered the kitchen, Griffin was peeling an avocado and nodded toward a glass of orange juice on the counter. “Help yourself. I meant to buy some tea for you, but I can’t remember when I last went to the market. But even without much talent as a chef, I’ve enough here to make us another passable omelet.”

“Anything with avocado is fine with me.” Darcy didn’t really care what he made when he looked so damn good half-dressed. She took a sip of juice and pulled up a stool. “Tell me what’s bothering you. I promise not to pitch a plate at you.”

“That’s a relief.” He took the carton of eggs from the gleaming refrigerator and set them on the counter. “I have to play that private concert in Paris after all, and I hate to go away again so soon.”

“You have to play the concert? Why? Oh Griffin, do you have money problems too?”

He laughed at her question and began to crack half a dozen eggs, drop them into a stainless steel mixing bowl and toss the shells into the sink. “Why don’t you grate some cheese? Then maybe you can listen without leaping to such ridiculous conclusions.”

Darcy found the block of cheddar and grater easily enough, but she still wasn’t happy. “Look, this house has to have cost you a fortune, and you’re cutting back on your concert schedule. It’s only logical that you might have to watch your expenses.”

“All right, I’ll concede the point, but if you’d stop interrupting me, maybe I’d have a better chance of explaining clearly.”

“I once dated a psychologist who accused me of interrupting him when all I meant to interject was a polite comment to assure him I was listening. It was obvious to me then that what he really wanted was a worshipful audience, not a conversation, and I refused to return his calls.”

“Fine, you’ve warned me. There’s a timer on the stove. Shall we set it for a couple of minutes each and take turns?”

Darcy sent him a deeply resentful glance. “Where’s the omelet pan? I’m going to whomp you upside the head with it.”

Ignoring her request, Griffin pulled a whisk from the utensil drawer and attacked the eggs. “Am I supposed to have a special pan to make an omelet? Can’t I use any old frying pan I have handy?”

Darcy glanced around the spotless kitchen. “I doubt you have anything here more than a couple of months old. Which is beside the point, of course. Just tell me why you feel you must play the private concert in Paris and be done with it.”

Griffin shook his head. “I should get dressed first. It wouldn’t be proper to come to the table without a shirt.”

“This is your house, Griffin, you can make clothing optional if you choose.”

“Not when you look so pretty in that lavender sweater.” He set the bowl of eggs on the counter and backed away. “It won’t take me but a minute to dress. Add whatever you want to spice up the eggs.”

“Another diversion,” Darcy muttered under her breath, but she found a bell pepper and onion in the refrigerator and began browning them in a pan. She’d never cooked on a commercial-size stove, and it was somewhat intimidating. Still, the bell pepper and onion were browning nicely by the time Griffin returned in Levi’s and a blue chambray shirt.

“That smells awfully good already,” he said. “Why don’t you fix the omelet? I’ll set our places at the counter.”

“Fine, but first, is there any bread for toast?”

Griffin found a loaf of wheat bread he’d tossed in the freezer, pulled out four slices and buttered them. “I hate to go away again,” he murmured softly. “But I’ll make every effort to get back as quickly as I can.”

Darcy moved the pan off the fire. “I’m unlikely to forget you in a week or two, but that’s not your real worry, is it?”

Griffin slid the bread into the toaster oven and turned the dial. “Let’s eat and then talk. Maybe you don’t need the strength, but I sure do.”

Giving in, Darcy replaced the pan on the fire, gave it a minute to reheat, and then poured in the eggs. When they began to set, she added the avocado slices and grated cheese.

“An omelet pan is hinged in the middle to make flipping half over a cinch, but it isn’t all that difficult to do it with a pancake turner.”

Griffin paid close attention as she gave a quick demonstration. “You’ve eaten one of my omelets. Short of dropping it on the floor, once you’ve got it cooked, does it really matter how it looks when it hits the plate?”

“A chef in a fancy restaurant would be big on presentation and undoubtedly shriek at your question, but I’m with you. This will taste as delicious as it smells, and that’s what matters.”

Griffin set their places and, as soon as Darcy had split the omelet between two plates, with his the far more generous portion, he added toast and carried them to the counter. He ate half of his before she’d swallowed more than a single taste.

“I’m going to buy a generator for your building,” he said between bites of toast. “And lay in a supply of food, so the next time there’s a storm, you’ll be able to make more than a sandwich.”

“I didn’t realize you were so hungry.”

“Don’t say anything to Christy Joy. We were lucky she could feed us what she did, so I’m not complaining. I just want to plan ahead is all.”

He opened a fancy jar of orange marmalade, and she spread some on a slice of toast and insisted that he take her second piece. She doubted he was all that concerned about emergency preparedness, but finished the rest of her breakfast before giving him another nudge toward the truth.

“Why don’t we let the dishes soak and go on out to your Zen garden to talk?”

Griffin shrugged. “Sure, just let me grab a beach towel to dry off the bench.”

The ground was soft beneath their feet, but the sun was shining brightly now and drying up the scattered puddles. Griffin laid the towel on the bench, took Darcy’s hand and pulled her down beside him. “I flat out love this view,” he said.

He was gazing out at the ocean, but she was concerned by his preoccupied frown. “Tell me why this trip to Paris is different from all the others.”

He slid his thumb across her fingers. “The woman who approached me in Chicago is a known acquaintance of Lyman Vaughn. The card she gave me had the name Simon Jordan, but that’s probably the alias he’s using this spring.”

Alarmed, Darcy sat up straight. “He’s the arms dealer Interpol is tracking, isn’t he?”

“That’s the man. Apparently he feels secure enough in his Paris chateau to invite me to perform.”

She gripped his hand between both of hers. “Wouldn’t his friends be criminals too?”

“That all depends on how you define the word. There’s a worldwide demand for arms, and dealers see themselves as businessmen who are entitled to make a fair profit.”

“At the expense of innocent lives,” Darcy cried.

“In their view no one is innocent, and they are merely supplying a valuable commodity, but I wish Vaughn had contacted me before I’d met you.”

“Wait a minute, when your chauffeur was murdered in Seattle, wasn’t your first thought that Vaughn must have linked you with Interpol, and that you’d be of no further use to them?”

Griffin brought her hand to his lips and kissed her lightly. “Yes, but it was merely a theory and, with no suspects in the crime, there’s no way to know what really happened. Besides, if Vaughn had had a man killed to get to me, he’d not have failed. The mere fact that he sent an attractive woman to issue an invitation makes it unlikely that he had anything to do with a murder in Seattle.”

The gray-green sea stretched before them as far as the eye could see. The waves were high in the storm’s wake, and hundreds of surfers would be streaming into Monarch Bay. While it didn’t follow that great numbers of tourists eager to buy Defy the World’s goods would follow, at that moment, Darcy couldn’t make herself care.

“I’ll go with you,” she exclaimed. “If we appear to be lost in each other, then Vaughn and his buddies won’t be wary, and you’ll be able to gather whatever information Interpol needs.”

Griffin pulled his hand from hers to raise his palm. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight. When I asked you to come to Seattle and Chicago with me, you refused to consider it. Now you’re eager to go to Paris, which won’t be simply fun, but dangerous?”

“Yes! What about our being a team?”

He shook his head. “That’s different. I don’t want you anywhere near Lyman Vaughn.”

“Well, I don’t want you near him either.”

Griffin studied the stubborn set of her mouth. “The answer’s no, Darcy. I’m going alone.”

Her glance narrowed slightly. “People have emergencies all the time, so there must be a way to get a passport in a hurry.” She rose and took a step toward the house. “Come on, I need to get back to town.”

Griffin rose with a weary stretch. “Fine. It will take me a few days to arrange the trip, so I’ll still be able to come into Defy the World tomorrow to help clean up the nursery.”

“No, you needn’t bother. I’ll just hire some of my crew for the day.” She started for the house, but he quickly caught up with her.

“I don’t want to fight with you over this. Go ahead and request a passport, and I’ll be happy to take you on my next trip. But I won’t take you to Paris.”

Unwilling to argue when the matter was settled in her mind, Darcy insisted they wash their dishes. Then she hung up the dish towel and crossed her arms over her chest. “You told me Vaughn travels easily among society’s elite. If that’s the case, then he can’t be murdering people right and left. He would have to behave as a gentleman, not merely dress like one.”