Past Midnight (31 page)

“I could use a glass of wine.” She tipped her chin and stroked a finger down the smooth column of her throat. “I’m parched.” She managed to make everything she did and everything she said sensual, sexual.

Christ, this was what he’d dreamed of when he’d told her tales over hot phone sex. “I’ll get something from the snack bar.” It was the cue to invite Craig to join their party in the panoramic car.

Maybe they could convince him to get off in Reno after all.

The waiter brought two checks, laid one in front of Dominic, the other next to Craig. Dominic tossed his credit card on top of his bill, but Craig merely signed.

“Sleeper car,” he said when they both looked at him.

Holy shit. The kid had a goddamn bedroom on the train.

Suddenly, the possibilities were endless.

 

 

ERIN’S HEART STOPPED MIDBEAT. HE WAS IN THE SLEEPING CAR. HE had a private room.

He had a bed. Oh my God.

Dominic gazed at her, a slight tilt to his lips, and she knew she wore that squirrel-in-the-road look.

Craig shifted his leg against hers. “I’ve got some wine in my cabin. If you like chardonnay. The accommodations are pretty nice.” He smiled widely as if he’d trapped a fly in his web.

She blinked rapidly. Okay, back up, breathe. She’d flirted. He’d flirted back. That didn’t mean she had to sleep with him just because they had wine in his cabin.

Then again . . . her heart beat faster, and her skin flushed.

Dominic smiled at her, all sweetness and light. “We should see it for the research value”—his eyes sparkled and she knew exactly what kind of
research
he was talking about—“ in case you decide to set one of your stories on a train.”

Bastard. She had to laugh at him; he was in hog heaven. She’d done this to herself, flirting, sexual innuendos, allowing Craig to put his hand on her thigh, and even covering it with her own, giving him a squeeze of encouragement.

But she’d enjoyed the flirting. And she was wet between the legs, turned on by it all. So what if they went to his compartment? She could still say no. Maybe sex wasn’t even his intention.
Duh.
She couldn’t be that stupid. Of course it was. And she’d egged him on.

Craig stood, picked up his book. “I’m in the last compartment in the first car when you leave the dining room.” He pointed to an older woman in a white blouse and navy slacks standing sentinel at the sliding door to the sleeper cars as if she were keeping the unwashed masses from entering the citadel. “I’ll let the porter know you might be coming through.” Not
will
, but
might
. “Thanks for letting me join you for lunch. The goulash was a great recommendation.”

He left. She appreciated his politeness and the fact that he didn’t push too hard. All he’d done was invite them.

“It’s just a glass of wine,” she told Dominic, toying with her cup, the coffee now cold. “No big deal.”

“He specifically reserved lunch in order to sit with you.” Dominic signed the credit card slip the waiter had just brought.

“That was a coincidence.” But the thought had already occurred to her.

He shook his head slowly. “No. Before they opened the dining car for lunch, there was announcement that all sleeper-car passengers were given first seating. He wasn’t going to eat lunch in here.” Dominic smiled until it hit his eyes. “He came for you.”

She shrugged. “All right, so it wasn’t
all
coincidence.”

“It’s just a glass of wine,” he echoed her, then lowered his voice to a slow, seductive whisper. “No big deal.”

She pointed her finger at him. “Don’t push.”

He held her gaze across the table for a long moment. “I don’t have to because I know you want it.”

Did she want it? What about tomorrow when it was over? Could their marriage really survive something like this? Maybe their ability to do it meant their marriage was over anyway. It might have been over the moment they lost Jay, and they just hadn’t figured it out yet.

Maybe it didn’t matter anymore.

“Let’s get our stuff,” she said. “I don’t want to leave my bag in the panoramic car.” She’d see how far Dominic let it go before he stopped her.

If
he stopped her.

CRAIG MILLER HELD UP A WINE BOTTLE. IT WAS A VERY GOOD LABEL. “I snagged some real wineglasses from the galley.” His face lit with an endearingly boyish smile as he poured.

Erin stood on the threshold of his compartment. She thought of Shane. He’d seen her naked, watched her masturbate, sat next to her as Dominic took her. He was a known quantity. But this man she would never have to see again. He wouldn’t surprise her in coffeehouses, wouldn’t pop up in other areas of her life. He was safe. He was attractive. And this was what Dominic wanted.

So, with her husband in the aisle behind her, she adjusted her limits, and stepped fully into the sleeper. Fuck everything else. She was going to have fun no matter how it ended.

“Wow, this is pretty cool. Thank you.” She took the wine Craig offered—it tasted expensive, too—and gazed around the compact room. On the left, the lower bunk was neatly made up, the head of the bed by the door, indicated by the pillow. Above, the closed upper bunk slanted out slightly from the wall, the release handle in the center.

“The bed can be folded up into seats, but since I’m alone and there’s another chair over there”—Craig pointed to a single seat in the corner—“I just left the bed down.”

“You’re in the lap of luxury.” She dropped her carryall down by the window seat and did a one-eighty, noting the sink and mirror and a door that read TOILET and SHOWER in small lettering.

Dominic remained just inside the compartment’s opening. “We should have gotten one of these, sweetie,” she told him.

“It’s only a seven-hour trip to Reno.” He took the wine Craig had poured. “Thanks.”

Erin slid onto the corner of the bed by the window, pushing the curtain back to gaze out. “Look, there’s a ski lift.” The chairs were full despite the snow flurries, the riders bundled up, skis dangling in the air. “I wonder which resort that is.”

Before either of them could answer, if they even knew, an announcer came over the PA to say they were about to enter the oldest, longest tunnel still existing over the mountain pass. Suddenly plunged into darkness, the compartment door closed with a discernible click over the whoosh of the train. She was alone with them.

It gave her the oddest sense of power.

Like the letter in her desk at DKG. She could say yes. Or she could say no. Thumbs up or thumbs down. The power of the emperor in the gladiator ring. She was in charge, and these two men would do what she said. There was awesome control in that. Just as there was a weird sense of power in knowing she could dial the number in that letter and tell the CEO of WEU that he could take her company off her hands, lock, stock, and barrel.

She didn’t think Dominic would even object. And he wouldn’t object to anything she did in this cabin.

Her eyes adjusted to the light from a row of thimble-size bulbs running along the outer edges of the ceiling. Dominic was a tall shadow by the door. A sentinel. A protector. A symbol of her freedom from restraint.

She fluttered her eyelashes at Craig and patted the bed beside her. “Sit.”

Craig shoved the half-empty wine bottle into an ice bucket beside the sink and sat. She hadn’t given him a choice of which seat to take.

She hadn’t given Dominic a choice either. He took the single seat across from her.

The train burst into light, and they were once again surrounded by the overcast sky and evergreens laced with snow. She started to tuck her feet beneath her. “Do you mind if I take off my boots so I can put my feet on your bed?”

Craig shook his head. She pulled off her jacket, tossed it at Dominic as if she were doing a striptease, then toed off her boots. “So,” she said, “how far are you traveling?” She’d assumed when Craig said he was going a little farther than Reno that he’d meant within the next couple of stops like Elko or Winnemucca, but obviously he was riding the train overnight.

“Denver. I have a book signing.”

She gaped. “That’s three days of travel time.”

“It’s part of a conference, then I’m doing some local signings.” He shrugged. “And I don’t fly.”

“Why not?”

“Remember that flight into SFO that dropped ten thousand feet?”

“Yeah. Everyone was okay except for bumps and bruises.”

“I was on it.”

She puffed out an amazed breath. “You’re kidding.”

“It lasted about ninety seconds. Do you know how long ninety seconds is?” He paused, letting her imagine. “I’ve never gotten on another a plane.”

Ninety seconds that could alter a life. How quickly things could change. How utterly. She looked at Dominic. He was staring at her, waiting, not a muscle moving, not even a breath. Ninety seconds could lead you to a stranger’s room while your husband waited with bated breath for you to do something kinky and taboo.

She knew then that she was going to do it.

 

 

“WHY’D YOU GET SUCH A BIG CABIN?” ERIN ASKED, CURLING COMFORTABLY in her corner of the bed. She looked like a sleek cat. Dominic was dying to hear that sweet, sexy purr of hers.

“I don’t share my shower.” Craig grinned. The guy had a wickedly hot grin Dominic knew had Erin’s panties wet and warm. “At least not with unknown people in there before me.” Then he swept a hand out. “I can write in here undisturbed.” He stuck a thumb over his shoulder. “You close the door on one of those two-person cabins and it’s claustrophobic.”

“Yet you were up in the panoramic car.”

He gazed at her a long moment, then smiled. “I liked the view better up there.”

She blushed, realizing Craig was talking about her, and Dominic knew she was pleased.

“In here,” Craig went on, “I’ve got room to entertain.”

Christ, this was better than anything Dominic could have dreamed up. A good-looking man ten years younger, curtains open, the white world rushing by outside, and Erin. She was chatty, asking and answering questions. It wasn’t like her, not the usual nervous chatter she made in crowds and with strangers, but comfortable, easy, probing. She’d once told him that her mother said it was rude to be nosy; you should let people volunteer what they wanted instead of prying. He didn’t agree, but it had been standard operating procedure for Erin. Yet now, she pestered Craig about his writing, how he’d started, where he was from, how big his family was, if he had a girlfriend.

It was fascinating, like a fly on the wall, watching a woman he didn’t know. He let them talk, said nothing beyond the occasional murmur when she turned to him. Sometimes it was with shock in her eyes, as if she’d forgotten he was there.

“Tell me about your research?” The kid wasn’t even trying to be sly. He was opening the door to sex, and they all knew it.

This time when Erin looked at him, there was complete awareness. Dominic gave her an imperceptible nod, the hairs on his arms suddenly on alert. What would she say now? How much would she reveal? His breath became shallow with anticipation, as if he’d miss something essential if he breathed too loudly.

“My last story took place at a nudist colony.”

Craig laughed. “So you had to find out if nudist colonies really exist.”

She nodded, then flashed a sexy smile that wormed inside Dominic. A flush zipped across his skin.

“Of course.” She dropped her voice to that seductive note he was getting used to. “And they’re very real.”

“What did your characters do in this nudist colony?”

“A foursome. I wanted to explore the whole foursome dynamic,” she said as if she were a real writer.

“That must be an interesting story.” Craig raised a brow. “You really have to tell me your pseudonym.”

He’d somehow moved closer, shifting, one knee pulled up carelessly next to hers, within a hairsbreadth of touching, an electric current arcing between them as she told him different scenarios she’d written about; flirting with men in a bar with her husband by her side, watching people at sex parties, masturbation, threesomes with two men. His skin a ruddier shade, breath faster, she commanded Craig’s attention. The man couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. Dominic felt the same sizzle of electricity along his own skin.

He experienced an uncanny sense of being outside himself, as if he were sitting in a bar observing a hot chick he’d never seen before, watching her work her wiles, picking up the most desirable guy in the place. It was sexy, fascinating, as erotic as the stories she spun for Craig.

For the first time, Craig spared a single glance for Dominic before turning back to Erin. Then he rested his hand on his knee, his fingertip brushing hers. The first touch in front of the husband, no table obscuring the view. “So what’s the premise for your WIP?” he asked as if he didn’t have his hand in plain sight on Dominic’s wife.

Jesus, the anticipation was combustible.

Erin tipped her head, a tiny flash of confusion creasing her brow. “WIP?”

WIP was an inventory term to her, an unfinished gauge sitting on her tech’s workbench, not a writer’s incomplete manuscript. That wasn’t how she thought.

“I choose the premise,” Dominic said.

Craig gave him a long look. “That’s an interesting way of doing it.”

“On old writer’s trick for stepping outside yourself,” he improvised.

“And what did you pick for Erin this time?”

Dominic stared him down. “A voyeur watching another man take his wife.”

Even the train seemed to hold its breath for a long moment, silent as if it were coasting on air, then the sounds returned.

Craig cocked his head, his eyes a dark brown fastened on Erin. “And I’m the research material?”