Dance of the Crystal (18 page)

Moisture seeped more heavily from her slit. She ground her pelvis into Soren’s face, feeling the delicious tension inside her build, build, until there was only his throbbing cock in her mouth, her drenched pussy grinding into him, the intensely sensitive bud of her clit rasping against his morning stubble until she thought she’d go mad with sensation.

Colors more precious than a sunrise exploded behind her closed eyelids, every hue of the rainbow winking and shining like a turning kaleidoscope, and she gasped for air around his cock, not willing to let it slip from her mouth at this most precious of all moments, the instant when she gave up all control, all will, to her Soren.

* * * * *

“Later. I can’t get my brain in gear.”

Crystal lay on her side, one arm and one leg draped over Soren, her head resting on his chest as she listened to the heavy thump-thump of his heart beneath her ear. His strong arms held her securely to his sweat-sheened body under the sheet he’d pulled loosely over their waists.

“About that coffee…”

He picked up her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissed her palm. “Obviously one of us didn’t just have the best sex of her life, since all you can think about is coffee.”

“Oooh, you’re mean.” She pulled her hand from his and gave him a halfhearted slap on his biceps. After his mouth brought her to climax, Soren had put on a condom and ridden her hard and long, bringing them both to heights unimaginable just a few short weeks ago. Her pussy throbbed deliciously from the unaccustomed exercise, and it had taken a long time for her pulse rate to return to normal.

But now, now it was time for coffee.

“What would it take to get your brain in gear? Pancakes? Omelets? Home fries?”

Soren turned his head to squint at the bedside clock. The digital numbers glowed green. Nine-seventeen.

“Sorry, the kitchen staff don’t arrive for a couple of hours yet.”

She pushed her way out of his embrace and sat up, her bare breasts thrusting up and out as she shoved her wild hair out of her eyes. “Soren Thorvald, I am offering to cook breakfast for you. Provided, that is, that there’s something in that kitchen besides stale coffee.”

“Hey, I made that coffee fresh this morning.”

Leaning forward to better read the clock face, she made an unladylike snort. “That ‘fresh’ coffee is over three hours old. And if it’s still plugged in, it probably tastes like mud.” Then she sat back, her eyes widening. “Oh my god, three hours. Soren, did we really spend three hours…?”

She giggled. Unconsciously her hand sought the crystal around her neck. She ducked her head, marginally embarrassed but unaccountably happy at her eagerness to make love with this man.

Yanking the sheet down to his knees, she sat back on her heels and let her eyes rove down the sleek, muscular length of him. “Want to go for four hours?”

“Woman, have mercy! You’re going to kill me.”

“Not if you let me make you breakfast,” she said pragmatically.

Soren raised his arms and stacked his hands under his head. “On one condition.”

She gave him a wary look. “What’s that?”

A smug smile spread across his face. “You have to do it stark naked.”

* * * * *

And what moves they were.

Bending from the waist to peer into the bottom shelf of the fridge, showing him the perfect heart of her ass, as she searched for a carton of eggs.

Jiggling her lush breasts as she fork-mixed eggs and milk.

Reaching up to a high counter for plates, lifting her breasts in the process. It was enough to make him come up behind her and grab those soft, milk-white globes.

“I hope this isn’t your good china,” she said, juggling the two cheap plates he’d picked up at the Goodwill store. Since he didn’t entertain in his apartment, he hadn’t seen the need for china.

The plates clattered as she dropped them onto the counter then leaned back into him. Or more specifically, into another hard-on. He couldn’t remember ever being so horny. Hell, he couldn’t ever remember feeling so satisfied.

“Mmm,” she said, leaning into him and rubbing that delectable ass against his johnson. “Equal opportunity nudity. I like that.”

“You know, we could christen my counter too.” He tweaked her nipples, nuzzled the nape of her neck.

“Hold that thought. Let me flip the omelet.”

He sighed and stepped back with a mock grumble. “Geez, give a woman the run of a kitchen and she’s handing out orders like a drill sergeant.”

“You’re lucky you’re eating anything at all. Your cupboard would give Mother Hubbard competition.”

“I usually eat downstairs.”

She turned, spatula in hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

That comment had come out almost like a snarl. He backpedaled. “It’s all right. Just thank your lucky stars I didn’t have bacon. The grease could have spattered onto that sweet belly of yours.”

A grin flashed on her face. “I like to think I’d be smart enough to ask for an apron—or at least a shirt of yours to protect against such a catastrophe.”

The thought of seeing Crystal wearing one of his shirts made him go weak in the knees. He shook the vision away. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

She gave him an odd look then asked, “Where would you like to sit?”

That brought him up short. He had no dining room table, no counter with stools.
Face it, Soren, you live
in a cave, for all that it’s on the second floor.
For the first time in as long as he could remember, he wished he had more than the bare minimum needed for survival in his living quarters.

* * * * *

Soren helped Crystal negotiate the step up into the cab of his pickup truck, handed her the overnight case she’d admitted she’d stowed in Deirdra’s car when they went to Thor’s Hammer, then got behind the wheel. They had eaten their omelets while standing at the counter near the sink. “All the better to wash the dishes,” she’d quipped, obviously trying to make him feel he wasn’t such an ogre after all.

Then he’d done something that had him still shaking his head in disbelief. He’d called Trang and told her he wasn’t coming in today, that she’d be in charge of the pub and to call the temp bartender if she thought it necessary. Trang hadn’t asked any questions, but he could hear them in the silent pauses as she waited for him to explain.

Which he hadn’t.

It was none of their business. Hell, when was the last time he’d taken a day off? Wasn’t a successful businessman entitled to a vacation now and again?

Crystal gave him a sidelong glance as she buckled her seat belt. “You’ll take me anywhere I want to go?”

“Uh, yeah, as long it isn’t to California or Oregon. Not today, anyway.”

She studied him a moment, as if to gauge his sincerity. Then rummaged in her bag for her cell phone.

Soren listened as she explained to someone that a mutual friend had suggested she call, then made arrangements to come by. She ended the call and slipped the phone back into her tote. “This woman wants to sell some family pieces. Said she’s been waiting for my call. It’s a beautiful day for a drive, and it isn’t far. And if we come to an agreement on terms, maybe we can take it right to Jack Healy’s shop—he’ll buy anything I bring him—and I won’t have to ask Augie to help me.”

“Augie? Oh yeah, the spoiled rich kid who tried to force you. He should only hope he doesn’t run into me in some dark alleyway.”

Her heart skipped into overdrive. Soren probably didn’t even know he was jealous. Crystal fought a smile and gave him directions to Tedi Giordano’s farmhouse.

A short while later they pulled up in front of a weathered farmhouse in dire need of paint, both on its windowsills and on bead-board siding that, Crystal thought, might be original to the house.

Mrs. Giordano turned out to be a short, arthritic woman with a fine network of wrinkles crisscrossing her face and snow-white hair cut to just cover her ears. Leaning on a walker, she took Crystal’s business card, stuck it in the pocket of her housedress after glancing at it, and invited them in. “As you can see, I can’t get around much, so I only use the first floor. The grandkids brought down everything I need. Just go on upstairs and make an offer on anything that strikes your fancy.”

The three bedrooms were denuded of any evidence of habitation. Bare mattresses lay on the beds, drawers were half opened on dressers, closet doors stood open. In a way, it was sad seeing the end of what used to be a family home. Mostly Crystal got called to a home full of life with only a single piece to be sold in the interest of space.

Still, a fine cherry dresser with chamfered corners and French feet looked to be original. She pulled out drawers, studied their dovetailing, asked Soren to move it so she could check out the patina on the back.

“This one,” she said at last.

She also chose a tall, slender bookcase made of poplar. After a discussion during which she politely declined an offer of tea, Crystal wrote out a check and Soren wrestled the dresser base—she carried each of the four drawers down one at a time—and bookcase into the truck.

Once on their way, she directed him to Time Treasures, calling Jack Healy on her cell phone as they rode. He met them at the back door of the shop. Crystal introduced the two men, who eyed each other as if rivals in a contest.

Or maybe she was seeing things. The two men made short work of moving the furniture, with little wasted motion.

“As usual, my dear, your eye is impeccable,” Jack told her as he studied the pieces.

“They are lovely, aren’t they.” Crystal gave an almost imperceptible nod to Soren, his signal, again, to wander outside while they discussed business. “I wish I could have seen what she had in the downstairs rooms.”

“You must indulge me this time, Crystal. We need to toast your success.”

Crystal bit back her annoyance at this delay. She wanted to spend the rest of the day with Soren, since she realized how rarely he took a day off. But, she remembered, she’d begged off the last time.

She mustered a smile. “Fine. A short one.”

“I’m honored.” He nodded then turned to his desk where he’d already laid out the Lalique glasses and a bottle of sherry on a silver tray. He poured an inch in each glass and handed one to her. “To the most important woman in my life.”

“To a great relationship,” she corrected then realized she should have said “great
working
relationship” in case he harbored other intentions.

“I’m happy to say that the two-piece corner cupboard you found has already sold.”

This time her smile was genuine. “Congratulations. I knew it would go fast.”

His look was so intent that Crystal realized she hadn’t yet tasted the sherry. She brought the glass to her lips and took a small sip. “This is excellent, Jack. You have such wonderful taste. I’ll write up a detailed bill for you tonight.”

“Yes, please do. If you bring it tomorrow, I can write you a check immediately.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. We can do this all by mail.”

When he stiffened, she realized her
faux pas
. He probably thought she was rubbing it in that she didn’t need his money. “It all depends on my schedule,” she added hurriedly.

“Crystal…”

Something in the tone of his voice alerted her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to ask you about this…gift…Rowena gave you at your birthday party. What is this Platinum Society that has accepted you into membership?”

“From what I gather, she shouldn’t have announced it if some people at the party weren’t members. It’s some kind of exclusive club that caters to, as Grandma said, the sybaritic among us.” She chortled. “I can just see me reclining on a divan and saying, ‘Beulah, peel me a grape.’ I think that was a line from a Mae West movie.”

His expression didn’t change, but it seemed to Crystal that Jack’s entire body tensed.

“And those dancers who stripped and made lewd moves on the stage. Was that the kind of sybaritic Rowena was referring to?”

“Oh, lighten up. They were just doing the Chippendale strut.”

“And it was acceptable for them to pull you up on stage and force you to disrobe in front of an audience?”

“Jack, I was wearing my swimsuit. It was just Grandma’s quirky way to get everyone into the pool. It was a
party
, for heaven’s sake.”

“But there were so many who took off all their—”

Just then Soren stepped through the back door. His gaze dropped to the glass Crystal held in her hand.

“I take it the business part is done?”

“Oh. Yes. Yes, it is.” She set down the glass on the silver tray. “Thank you, Jack. It’s always a pleasure doing business with you. I’ll get the bill to you right away. I’m glad the corner cupboard sold,” she added as an afterthought.

Jack Healy stared after them as they went out the back door. That man had been at the party. In fact, he distinctly remembered seeing both of them disappear into the cabana. But then Crystal walked back out.

He hadn’t seen where she went, but the man stayed inside for a suspiciously long while. Had there been another entrance?

The way there had been another entrance at the back of that bar?

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

He’d have to teach her a lesson.

Soon.

“This is really nice. I never knew this was here.” Soren stood in the center of the footbridge over the Delaware River north of New Hope and gazed at the wide swath of water in late-afternoon light, shimmering as it flowed south at a leisurely pace, the border between Pennsylvania and New Jersey.

Compared to the port of Philadelphia, the water this far upstream was clean, the banks covered with greening trees and shrubs as opposed to houses or industry.

They’d stopped at a drive-in for burgers and coffee, eating as they headed north on Route 32 at Crystal’s direction. He’d parked the truck at the side of the road opposite an old-fashioned general store and they’d hiked the half mile.