Lead Me On (21 page)

The evening came and went without a word. Chloe ventured into the kitchen just before bedtime. "How could he not notice?"

"I don't know." Allison poured them each a glass of milk and fixed a plate of brownies. "Maybe we should have left the shower door open."

"You mean, we have to wait until morning when he takes his shower?" Chloe asked.

"Looks like it."

"I hate waiting." Chloe took a big bite of brownie.

"Me, too. But remember, act clueless when he does notice."

"You got it."

The following morning, Allison waited eagerly for Scott and Chloe to come down for breakfast. Chloe came down first, beating most of the other guests. She fidgeted in her chair and giggled each time she looked at Allison. By the time Scott came down, breakfast was in full swing with guests sharing their plans for the day over the clatter of dishes.

Allison glanced up from pouring coffee, saw him enter the room, and froze as she waited for his reaction. He simply went to the sideboard, fixed his plate, and sat down. She couldn't believe it. Nothing!

She stared at Chloe who gaped back at her. He had to have noticed by now. His damp hair proved he'd taken a shower, yet he didn't say one single word about it. He just questioned Chloe about her schoolwork.

Okay, she decided, if he was going to pretend nothing had happened, so would she.

"I can't believe he didn't say anything," Chloe complained later when she joined Alli in the gift shop.

"Me, either."

"He must be up to something. I bet he's known since yesterday, and he's plotting his revenge."

"You think so?" Allison thought that over as she dusted off a display of miniature sailing ships. "But what could he do?"

"Heck if I know, but we better be careful until we figure it out. Remember, we're dealing with a man who drags his characters through snake-filled jungles and shark-infested waters. Heaven only knows what torments he's capable of in real life."

"Oh, come on, Chloe, that's just fiction." Allison laughed nervously. "What's he going to do, hide snakes in our beds?"

"I'm just saying we're dealing with a man who makes a living scaring the living daylights out of people."

"You're right." Allison bit her lip.

The thought of what Scott might be planning soon had her jumping at every noise. Scott gave nothing away, though. He came down to the kitchen at noon to make lunch for Chloe and himself from the groceries he kept in the refrigerator, then went into town to do research at the library.

That evening, Allison sat in the music room, helping Chloe with her homework. Quiet had settled over the house with most of the guests in town. Rory and Chance had gone home for the day, and Adrian was playing poker at a friend's house. Scott appeared in the doorway, startling both of them.

"What are you two up to?" he asked, as casual as ever.

"Nothing," Chloe said, looking a bit like a deer caught in the headlights.

He turned to Allison. "I have a huge favor to ask. I'm really on a roll with the writing and don't want to stop. So, do you think you could take Chloe out to dinner? On me, of course."

"I ..." She hesitated at the unusual request. "I suppose."

"Great." He reached in his back pocket for his wallet, and pulled out a credit card. "I really appreciate this."

She took the card, still frowning.

"Yep, he's up to something," Chloe said when he was gone.

~ ~ ~

Night had fallen by the time they returned, both of them pleasantly stuffed with seafood. They stopped at the base of the stairs, taking in the quiet creaks and pops of a house settling in for the night. Allison hadn't seen any lights on upstairs besides Scott's so any guests who had returned from town had apparently gone to bed already.

"Well, I guess this is it," Chloe said, looking up the stairs.

"You want me to go up with you?"

Chloe seemed to consider it, then squared her shoulders. "No. I can take it. Besides, like you keep saying, how bad can it be?"

"Okay, but check your shower before you go to bed."

"Yeah, good thinking. You, too."

"Right." Allison waited at the base of the stairs until she heard the door to Chloe's room close. When no scream followed, she took a deep breath and headed down to the apartment in the basement. Adrian hadn't returned from his poker game, and probably wouldn't for hours.

She turned on all the lights in the main room, then eased open the door to her bedroom on its creaky hinges. How could such a new door make that eerie noise? Nothing seemed out of place, so she ventured inside, moving carefully to the threshold of the bathroom. She needed to wash her face before going to bed, but her gaze landed on the shower curtain and she remembered the scene from one of Scott's books where the villain had hidden inside the shower with a knife in hand, watching the woman as she stripped off her clothes.

Logically she knew he would never go so far as to act out that scene, yet nerves skittered up her spine as she sidestepped into the room, never taking her eyes off that curtain. She bent sideways to reach the plunger by the toilet. Chanting the words "there is nothing behind that curtain, there is nothing behind that curtain," she swiped it open.

And screamed.

Then instantly laughed because there was nothing behind the curtain. She was alone in the apartment, and being utterly foolish. Too unsettled to wash her face, she went back into her room and sat on the bed. Maybe she and Chloe were wrong. Or maybe his revenge was as simple as making them wonder what he was planning. That sounded diabolical enough to be true. What better way for him to get back at them than to let their imaginations do it for him?

Then again ... Her gaze wandered to her dresser. On a hunch, she crossed the room, stood with her head craned back just in case something jumped out, and eased the top drawer open.

Nothing jumped out.

She chanced a peek inside and her eyes went wide. Rather than neat stacks of cotton undies, she found a pile of slinky black lingerie! Sheer bras, lacy panties, garter belts, and stockings. All of it black.

Laughter bubbled up as she scooped up a handful. His revenge was perfect. Brilliant. Holding up a pair of crotchless panties and a bra that seemed to be missing the requisite cups, she laughed even harder. She'd swapped his black underwear with wildly tacky colors; and he'd swapped her sensible cottons with black underwear so sexy it fell over the border into raunchy.

Gathering up the whole pile, she headed upstairs and rapped on Scott's door.

"Who is it?' he called cheerfully.

"Who do you think?"

"The underwear thief?"

"Me a thief?" She tried the knob and found the door unlocked. "What about—" The minute she stepped into the room, she froze. Scott sat in the bed, leaning against the headboard, with his legs crossed at the ankles, dressed in nothing but the pair of boxers with the lipstick kisses. Mounds of her prim cotton underwear surrounded him. "Oh, my God!" She slammed the door, afraid one of the other guests would pick that moment to walk into the hall.

Whirling back to face him, she watched him dangle one of her many pairs of panties printed with butterflies and flowers.

"Very sweet." He gave her one of those laconic smiles that made her heart bump. "This is much closer to what I expected you to wear than that sexy number you had on at the Hotel Galvez. Honestly though"—he considered the panties—"I'm not sure which is sexier."

"Give me that." She lunged forward, spilling black lingerie onto the bed.

"Not a chance." He held the panties away from her, making her climb onto the mattress. "I'm keeping all of it as my spoils of war."

"I'll spoil your war." She lunged again and fell across his chest. "I want my panties back."

"And I want my black boxers."

She pressed her forearms against his chest to prop herself up. "You need variety."

"And you don't?" He scooped up a fistful of cotton undies. "Come on, Alli, I've never seen so many flowers and butterflies outside a garden."

"I like flowers."

"So do I." His amber gaze shifted, making her aware of the warm skin beneath her palms, the crisp mat of black hair, the honed muscles. "But I also like you in black."

Taking up a scrap of satin, he brushed it against her cheek. Heat flowed through her. "I like you a lot in black." Cupping the back of her head, he applied the slightest pressure, not jerking her to him, but leaving the decision up to her. The moment hung, shimmering with anticipation and all the reasons they shouldn't do this.

Slowly, she lowered her lips for a tantalizing brush, the barest taste.

Scott closed his eyes in surrender. Consequences be damned. He wanted her. Whatever happened afterwards, he'd deal with it when the time came. For now he just wanted her. He tightened his hand in her shoulder-length curls and gave himself over to the moment, the utter joy of holding her, touching her, breathing her in.

"Tell me you want this," he managed between nibbles. "I want to hear you say it."

"So you can reject me again? Tell me you're too busy?"

He pulled back, stared at her. "You know I want you."

"Maybe I'm the one who needs to hear you say it." Color rose up in her cheeks.

"You want to hear me say how much I want you? How I can't think about anything but you? I lie awake at night fantasizing about touching you." He ran his hand down her throat to cup her breast through her T-shirt. His thumb rubbed small circles over her nipple and her eyes went heavy. "You want words, I'll give you words." He turned to press her onto the mattress where she lay surrounded by innocent white cotton and provocative black lace. The contrast more than suited her.

"The very thought of you is enough to make me hard." He nibbled at her lips. "When you walk into a room, I can't think about anything but how much I want to get inside you." He moved his mouth to her ear and whispered. "I want you beneath me, so lost in your own passion, in the things I'm doing to your body, you can't stop calling my name and begging me to take you."

"Yes," she sighed as her body trembled. "I dream of the same thing, where you touch me and take me, hard and fast, and I'm helpless to stop you because I want you so much."

Hunger coiled inside him at the words, along with a desire to give her any fantasy she wanted. Before they parted, she'd likely hate him, but at least he could give her this: physical pleasure to remember for a lifetime. He searched through the garments scattered across the bed, until he found what he wanted. "Put this on."

She stared at the bra that was all straps, underwires, and very little else, her eyes going wide with shock at the idea of wearing it.

He kissed her neck, teasing her pulse with his tongue. "Trust me." He inched up her T-shirt, running his palm over the warm flesh of her stomach. With light kisses and teasing touches, he coaxed off her shirt and reached for the back clasp of her sensible cotton bra. It gave with a satisfying snap.

"Put it on," he said again, handing her the black bra.

She hesitated, then sat up, with her legs tucked demurely beneath her in the middle of the bed. Her breathing turned shallow as she realized she wanted to don the scandalous garment. Taking it from him, she bent forward to fasten it and felt the wires snug up under her breasts. The quarter cups ended below the nipples, lifting her breasts and putting them on display.

The sensation was wickedly thrilling as she straightened and looked down at him.