The Red Diary (13 page)

Of course, working at the office had hardly been pleasant. Phil had questioned her early departure from the party, and she'd found herself muttering some excuse about a headache and too much smoke in the room. Then her father had insisted on taking her to lunch when she'd have really rather eaten alone, considering her mood.

He, too, had brought up last night. "You didn't seem yourself when I saw you outside at Phil's. Were you feeling ill? Who did you say you were with on that motorcycle?"

"I just ... had a tiff with a guy I'm seeing. No biggie."

For some reason, excuses about headaches and not feeling well had started sounding trite, even to her.

''The guy on the motorcycle?" her dad asked. "Who was that? Anyone I know?"

She'd shoved a bite of salad in her mouth to help stall for a second. "No, Dad, just one of the subs. A painter." Her father had tilted his head. "Since when did you start dating the subs?"

She laughed lightly. "Only one, not all of them. And since I happened to meet one, that's all. It's no big deal."

Thankfully, that had quieted him on the subject. Their relationship was generally open enough that he assumed she'd tell him if anything was really wrong, and she probably would have, if it didn't have to do with her sex life, one area she just didn't want to get into with him.

Sadie had questioned her, too-not about the party, but about her decision to work at the office. Tired of fudging her way around the truth by then, she'd been honest. "Something happened with Nick Armstrong last night, so I wanted to get away from the house today while he's there."

Sadie's eyes had widened, and she'd even reached out to touch Lauren's "arm. "Are you okay, sweetie? Is everything all right?"

She'd bit her lip and nodded, and then she'd felt guilty, afraid it sounded like he'd done something forceful to her, which couldn't have been further from the truth. "It was my fault, Sadie, not his. But I just wanted a change of scenery, you know?" Sadie's concerned look didn't fade as she said. "Sure, of course. Just remember I'm here if you ever want to talk or anything, okay?"

Lauren had smiled and thanked her, and maybe even wished she could talk to Sadie about Nick, but the whole thing was just too personal. She'd attempted to discuss it with Carolyn yesterday on the phone, but she'd quickly figured out that someone who didn't have the same feelings about sex as she did would never understand or be able to help. Where Carolyn was at one end of the spectrum, she suspected Sadie resided much closer to the other. She was on her own with this one. Flipping at the deep end of the pool and resuming her backstroke, Lauren saw the stars coming out, the full dark of the night adding to her sense of solitude. Her body moved with even precision through the water. Think of something else, something that doesn't have to do with Nick Armstrong. Easier said than done, of course, especially with Prince crooning one sexual innuendo after another.

And Monet. The concept of his knowing the works of Monet kept coming back to her, as if whispering that there was more to this man than she saw.

Two more slow laps and she felt a bit calmer, more at peace. He still lingered in her head, but she continued to remind herself that the evening was hers alone. The idea of going inside, slipping into a robe, and curling up with a good book and Isadora-if the cat was willing sounded like a little slice of heaven.

Nearing the shallow end of the pool, she lowered her feet to the bottom and stood, using both hands to smooth her hair back over her head. Water rolled off her arms, breasts, stomach, as she walked smoothly toward the steps. It was then that she noticed the large shadow near the back door.

Nick.

Somehow, amazingly, she didn't even flinch.

He wore another dark T-shirt and faded blue jeans. He held the thick white towel she'd brought out in one hand and a rose in the other as he watched her. Had been watching her, for God knew how long.

Inside, she felt panicky, but summoned an instant determination not to let him know. For once, she wouldn't let him see the effect he had on her, not even when he intruded upon the private sanctity of a nude swim.

She concentrated on breathing evenly as she kept walking, fluidly, soon climbing the steps, more water sluicing off her skin while his eyes absorbed her body's every secret. But she couldn't think about that, couldn't let anything get the best of her right now. She wanted' him to see how unaffected she was, how strong.

But then-oh God! The rose he held. Even in the dim patio lighting, she saw that the rose was pale pink, the mere hint of a blush.

How could he know? What could it mean?

Breathe in. Out. In. Out. Keep walking. Calm, stay calm .

Still, the sight of the rose nearly undid her, overriding her shock and embarrassment completely. It was beginning to feel as if her fantasies weren't entirely her own anymore, as if they were a shared thing, even though she'd never shared any of them with another living soul. She could barely piece together coherent thoughts as she neared him. her focus tightening on the pale rose. The word kismet came to mind. Could this be something strange and magical and cosmic that went beyond her understanding? In that moment, she didn't even think it sounded crazy anymore.

Stopping in front of him, she shifted her eyes to his no other choice; his gaze was a magnet. He wordlessly handed her the towel and she smoothly wrapped it around herself, holding it together with one fist above her breasts. Covering her body made his eyes no less penetrating, though-and she realized she'd been heading toward him, and the towel. with the mistaken impression it would. But his gaze always affected her this way, and nudity had nothing to do with it. He offered her the rose, and she gingerly took it, careful to avoid the thorns. The mere hint of a blush.

"Why did you bring this?"

''To make up for last night." His voice remained as dark and seductive as it had been on the beach.

"No. Why did you bring this, in particular? Why did you choose this rose?"

He tilted his head and peered deep into her eyes. Even as unnerving as she found his gaze, it also made her feel like the most beautiful, captivating woman in the world. "It made me think of you."

Kismet. Her glance dropped again to the blooming flower, its petals full and open. It couldn't have mirrored her fantasy more. Keep breathing, Lauren. Just keep breathing.

"Don't you know it's dangerous to swim like that? That anyone could walk up?"

She flinched her eyes back to his. "Most people knock on the front door."

"I did."

"Then most people give up and go away when they don't get an answer."

"I'm not most people."

"I'm becoming well aware of that." "And I don't give up easily."

"I'm becoming aware of that, too." "About last night .. ." he began.

She simply gaped at him. She had so hoped last night was behind her, but it was not meant to be. The rose be tween her fingertips reminded her once more that nothing was simple with this man; in fact, everything seem, to be growing more complicated by the minute.

"You said to forget it," he told her, "but that's not gonna happen."

She took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. "Why?' His voice came low, determined. "Because I want you so fucking bad I can hardly breathe."

The night air stilled around them as his words traveled through her like a shock wave. She wished she could tear her gaze from his, but she couldn't-she wanted him, too. It was pure torment, and it had been, pure torment since the moment she'd met him. He was exactly the last man she needed, and she knew that .. but was she beginning to see a soul inside him? And now he'd brought her a rose-the rose. Her mind still boggled over how this could be, but perhaps the question: were beginning not to matter so much as the answers already in her possession.

Yesterday Carolyn had told her that maybe, for once in her life, she should forget about meaning and think about fun. Her body, her physical needs. God knew she ached for him, ached for the release she somehow understood only he could give her. And yet, how mud would it devastate her to forsake what she believed in, to let sex be nothing more than a physical act, nothing that mattered when it was over? How could she pin it herself to do it? How could she risk herself that way? She pulled in her breath upon realizing that, in light of all the uncertainty surrounding Nick, simply saying yes to her desires would take as much strength as it might take another woman to say no--because it was so contrary to all she believed in, all she thought sacred between man and woman. Saying yes was not the easy answer, but the difficult one. Saying yes was not giving in; it was putting herself out there, taking a dare, being bolder than she'd probably ever been in her life. She wanted Nick Armstrong with every ounce of her being, and breaking all the promises she'd ever made to herself suddenly seemed as easy as ... letting go of the towel.

It dropped in a heap at her feet, but Nick's eyes never left hers.

Her lips trembled as fear and wild anticipation filled her.

Nick reached for her free hand. lifting it to his mouth.

He kissed her palm, then slowly lowered it to the front of his jeans. The touch jolted her God. he was so hard, so ready, and it was all for her.

"Kiss me," she whispered desperately.

Both his hands cupped her face as he delivered a firm, passionate kiss, his tongue plunging past her lips, the kiss engulfing her. She unthinkingly caressed him through his jeans, then heard him moan into her mouth.

Releasing a sigh that let her know she affected him as much as he affected her, Nick scooped her naked body up into his arms and turned toward the door. Freeing one hand to open it, he pushed it wide and carried her inside.

This is happening, she thought, really happening. And I'm letting it. Anticipation blended with relief, the end of the suspense. The three days she'd known him had felt more like three years. She would finally have him.

Wrapping her arms around his neck as he walked, she pulled him down into another feverish kiss. It seemed no time to be timid or go slow. One kiss dissolved into another until Nick had crossed the family room to get them into a white leather chair so that she straddled him.

Dropping the rose to a table next to them, she sought something to say, some way to make this seem like more than it was, but came up empty. She yearned for it to be more than sex, even now, even still, but it just wasn't.

He seemed to read her mind. "Don't say anything. Just let go."

His work-roughened hands roamed her body, and when they reached her rear, urged her up onto her knees. She rose for him, watching as he kissed her breasts, then she arched her back and lifted her arms above her head to give him better access. Prince's "Little Red Corvette" echoed from the speakers, low and potent, telling her she was much too fast, that all this was much too fast, but reason and decision were far past mattering now.

While one of Nick's hands cupped the breast he suckled, the other 'snaked around the back of her thigh, his fingers burying themselves between her legs. She jerked and cried out, stunned at the initial intrusion, but as he slid two fingers in and out of her, she got caught up in the sensations and began to move on them.

"Oh God, Nick," she panted, just to hear herself say his name. It was all she had of him, all she really knew of him. It was the only connection she could make with him.

"Shhhh, babe," he murmured against her breast, then blew on her nipple, making her pull in her breath.

Sinking down into his lap, she thrust her hands into his hair and dragged him into a hard kiss. His fingers, inside her, had maddened her, and she wanted to go further, faster now. Every pore of her body tingled with excitement and she found herself writhing against the front of his jeans, hungry to bond with that incredibly hard part of him. He pushed back, moved with her, his hands on her bottom, pulling her against him, as they continued exchanging rough kisses. He bit her lip once, making her squeal, then she bit his and held on longer.

"That hurt," he muttered.

She leaned to whisper in his ear. "But it felt good, too."

"Yeah," he breathed.

She raked her teeth down his earlobe. "I want you, Nick," she rasped. fully embracing what was happening now. There was no other way.

"Unzip me."

Her breath grew raspy as she moved her hands to the front of his blue jeans. She struggled to undo the button, then slid the zipper briskly down; he burst free of the confinement just above her hand, the tip of his erection peeking from the top of his gray briefs.

"Don't stop there," he whispered low, panting just as she was.

Their eyes met, and she bit her lip, gathering the last ounce of courage she had. She dropped her gaze and watched the fingers of both her hands curl around the edge of his underwear to pull it down.

The strangled sound she heard was her breath leaving her. He was magnificently large and beautiful. She should have been frightened because she'd never been with a man who looked like this when aroused, but in stead she only wanted him more than she had before "Oh God, Nick. I-"

"No," he whispered. "Don't talk."

She wanted to touch him there, but couldn't quit bring herself to do it. So instead she pushed his shirt over his chest and ran her hands over his hard nipple, his muscled stomach. And as she slid her palms lower she let them pass down onto his abdomen, but never let them stray to the rock hard column in the center, instead running her hands to either side. As her lips trembled, as the passion inside he mounted still more, she thought of her fantasy and reached beside them for the rose. Taking the stem care fully between her fingers, she lowered the bloom to the base of his penis. She felt him tense. heard him pull in his breath. She, pulled hers in, too. Then she slowly grazed the soft petals up his length until she reached the tip, where she used the rose to sweep away the dot of moisture there.

When he trembled and closed his eyes, she knew the power she'd only dared dream she might ever feel with him. And when he opened them back up, wearing the, most feral look she'd ever seen, she didn't want to stall anymore, either.