Do Not Disturb (56 page)

He gave her the sort of look a hungry lion gives a gazelle. Honor blushed, and belatedly tried to cover her breasts with her hands.

“Be my guest.”

He started to walk away.

Honor was torn. Damn him! Why couldn’t it have been someone else, anyone else, who came to her aid?

The way he’d looked at her just now had sent her pulse racing—something she put down to shock, possibly combined with extreme drunkenness. It may have felt like desire. But it definitely wasn’t. It couldn’t be, because she was absolutely, categorically not attracted to Lucas. God no. She’d rather sleep with George Bush.

On the other hand, a robe would seriously come in handy right now. The alternative—going down to the lobby in her underwear—would mean public humiliation on a scale that would dwarf today’s earlier litany of indignities. She couldn’t do it.

“Wait!” she shouted after Lucas’s retreating back. Slowly, infinitely slowly, he turned around.

“Yes?”

You bastard, thought Honor. You’re loving every minute of this.

“I will borrow your robe,” she mumbled, gracelessly.

“Oh, you will, will you?” said Lucas. “Well I’m not so sure anymore. I mean, you haven’t asked very nicely. What’s the magic word?”

Honor gritted her teeth. “I hate you,” she muttered murderously.

“Sorry?” said Lucas. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“
Please
,” said Honor. “OK?
Please. Please
may I borrow your robe?”

“Of course you may.” Lucas’s grin broadened. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The corridors at the Wynn were longer than most East Hampton streets, and it seemed to take an age before they reached Lucas’s room, especially as he insisted on ambling along deliberately slowly, prolonging her agony. But at last they got there. As
soon as he slipped his card in the door, Honor darted inside like a fish, making straight for the bathroom. She emerged moments later wrapped in an enormous toweling robe, her hands lost somewhere inside the cavernous sleeves so that only her feet and tiny, doll-like head were visible.

Lucas burst out laughing. “Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi! You’re my only hope!”

“Ha-ha,” said Honor mirthlessly. She started for the door, but he stepped in front of her, barring her way.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She was angry, but for some reason her voice emerged all high-pitched and strangled. Reaching over her head, Lucas pulled the bathroom door shut behind her, pinning her between it and his body.

“I’m doing exactly what you want me to,” he said. And before she could respond, he’d slipped a hand inside her robe and started caressing the bare skin on her shoulder.

For a split second Honor closed her eyes as an erotic charge shot through her body. Then she stiffened.

“Fuck off!” she said, pushing him away. “You make me sick. You think you can…you can…” Fuck. Why had she drunk so much? She longed to come out with some witheringly acerbic put-down, but all she could do was babble like a cretin. “Oh, just fuck off, all right?”

“No,” he said, pulling her close again. “It’s not all right. Not until you listen.”

“And why should I listen to you?” said Honor, not bothering to try to push him off again, as it clearly wasn’t going to work and the effort was making her feel dizzy. “Give me one good reason.”

“Because,” said Lucas, “you’re wrong about me. You always have been, since that first day on the beach.”

“You reckon?” Honor’s cat’s eyes narrowed distrustfully. She wished the smell of his aftershave weren’t quite so distracting.

“I had nothing to do with your sister’s tape,” said Lucas, looking her right in the eye. “And it wasn’t me who leaked your
affair to the papers. I swear to you, Honor, on my mother’s life. I didn’t do it.”

Once again she felt torn. She didn’t know what to believe. He looked like he was telling the truth; he really did. But then, consummate liars knew how to pull off that trick, right?

“It was Anton,” said Lucas, his voice dropping to the low, husky whisper that seemed to make every woman but Honor melt. “Why can’t you believe that? What are you so scared of? Admitting you were wrong?”

“Scared?” Honor bridled defensively. “I’m not scared.”

But in that moment, she realized that she was. Horribly scared. Scared of forgiving him. Scared that if she stopped hating him, even for a moment, she might feel something else. Something beyond her control.

“Let’s just say for a minute that you’re right—that it was Anton,” she said. The fear seemed to be helping sober her up. “That still doesn’t let you off the hook. You introduced Tina to that guy.”

“I did,” said Lucas. “But only because Anton told me to. Look, he told me to do a lot of stuff that I regret now, OK? But, you know, he was my boss. I didn’t realize he had this whole hidden agenda.”

“Hmm.” Honor looked up at him, willing her anger not to desert her. “So do you always jump like a monkey when the organ grinder says jump?”

“I don’t know,” said Lucas. Pushing his knee forward between Honor’s legs, he brought his face so close to hers she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheeks. “Do you always lash out at men when you want them?”

“I don’t want you…” she stammered. But he stopped her with a kiss so passionate she could barely breathe, let alone speak. Closing her eyes, she gave in to the sensation, allowing her senses at last to overwhelm her. Before she knew it she was kissing him back, tentatively at first but then hungrily, her desire escalating in response to his.

Staggering toward the bed, kissing and grabbing and scratching at each other like two wild animals, they finally collapsed on top of it. Honor’s robe was already on the floor, and Lucas had somehow managed to scramble out of his jeans as he wrestled her beneath him.

“I meant what I said,” Honor panted, gasping as he ripped off her camisole, tearing the thin silk as his hands grasped hungrily for her breasts. “I still hate you. You’re arrogant…you’re…” It was hard to get the words out while being manhandled by someone with a body weight roughly three times your own. “You’re sexist. And boorish. And…rude.”

“Yeah, well, I hate you too,” growled Lucas, struggling out of his boxer shorts and nudging her legs wider with his knees. “You’re a snob. You’re horribly spoiled…” He kissed her again, delighted and amazed by the strength of her response and the way her tongue darted into his mouth like a slippery bullet.

“Pushy American bitch,” he said, pinning her arms down on the mattress with all his weight so she was spread like a butterfly on a pin-board. “Stop trying to take the lead.”

Looking down, Honor saw his ramrod-straight erection jutting up toward her belly like a fence post and felt a curious mixture of excitement and dread. Devon had been big, but not that big, and obviously Lucas was far more sexually experienced than she was. He had her arms pinned, so she had to draw one leg up in order to touch his dick with her foot, gently rubbing up and down the shaft with the smooth skin of her instep. Lucas closed his eyes and moaned, moving one hand down to guide himself inside her. But Honor was too quick for him. With a boldness that surprised her as much as it did him, she seized her chance, wriggling free and flipping herself around like a gymnast so that she was on top of him, and their positions were reversed. At least this way she would have some control over how deep he went.

Lucas groaned as she slipped his cock inside her. Part of him wanted to pull away and teach her who was boss. But the other
part felt so fucking fantastic, as her tight muscles clenched and released him in a perfect, slowly accelerating rhythm, wild horses couldn’t have made him move. Closing his eyes, he reached up and ran his hands down her bare back, letting his fingers curl around the nape of her neck and run over each of her ribs in turn.

“You’re too thin,” he said.

Honor opened her eyes for a moment and looked at him. She was about to tell him she didn’t need his approval of her weight, or anything, but to her surprise she saw that there was genuine concern in his eyes. So she decided to be honest instead.

“I know. It’s stress,” she said, shrugging. “When it’s bad, I can’t eat.” For the next two hours, they fucked like a pair of hormonally crazed weasels. Now that he’d finally gotten her into bed, Lucas realized just how much he’d been wanting her, and for how long. Sexually, she was a revelation, wilder than even he had imagined, and far more skillful in bed than her blow-up-doll sister. Her physical fitness and stamina were quite awesome. Honor’s body might look fragile, but making love to her, Lucas discovered it was anything but. She was pure muscle. And as for her flexibility…not even the rhythmic gymnast he’d dated in Ibiza last summer could compare. The woman had rubber bones.

For Honor, the experience was equally powerful, but in different ways. Lucas had broken her defenses and allowed years of sexual and emotional frustration to come tumbling out. Yes, he was a good lover—he ought to be, after all the practice he’d had—but it wasn’t just that. Tonight was the first time Honor had had sex since Devon. It had reached the point where she’d gone without it for so long she’d convinced herself that she didn’t need it. That she was happy to let Palmers be her life, lover, family, everything. But Lucas’s touch had changed all that. Like an H-bomb exploding through her body, blasting away all the fear and the pain and the loneliness, he’d reduced her to her most primitive, animal self. The delight she felt with him inside her was indescribable.

At last they collapsed side by side on the sheets like two sweat-soaked marathon runners.

“If I ask you something,” said Honor, staring at the ceiling, once she’d regained enough breath to speak, “do you promise to give me a truthful answer?”

Turning onto his side, Lucas propped himself up on an elbow and looked at her. She looked like she’d been swimming. Her hair glistened with sweat like dewy grass, and all her makeup was smudged off. Above anything else, she looked incredibly young. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted another human being so much.

“Of course,” he whispered seriously. “I’ll never lie to you.”

“Am I better in bed than Tina?”

The question was so unexpected, Lucas burst out laughing.

“Sorry,” he said, seeing Honor looking crestfallen. “I’m sorry. I’ve just never heard you sound so insecure before.” Her face fell further, and he quickly added: “Of course. Of course you’re better. Jesus, Honor, your sister…she was…it was nothing.”

“Nothing, sexually? Or nothing…”

“Nothing, nothing. Nothing sexually, nothing emotionally. Nothing to me,” he said fervently. “Nothing like you.”

Apparently satisfied, Honor fell silent.

“So, can I ask
you
something?” said Lucas eventually.

“Oh, yeah, you were great too,” Honor murmured, half asleep already. “Much better than Devon and everything.”

Lucas laughed. “I know
that
,” he said, without a hint of irony.

“Oh, you do, do you?” said Honor, sitting up. She’d forgotten just how infuriatingly arrogant he could be. “So what’s your question, then?”

“Do you believe me? About Anton, and all the shit that happened that summer?”

Honor nodded slowly. “I think I believed you at the hospital,” she admitted. “I thought about what you said a lot, afterward, and it all made sense. I just couldn’t process it then. It was too soon, after the fire, losing Palmers.” She shook her head, fighting back
tears. “It was like I was at emotional ground zero. I didn’t want to have to think about anything else. I didn’t have the energy.”

“I understand,” said Lucas softly. “Believe me. I do.”

Nestling against each other in the silk sheets like two sleepy, satisfied cats in the sun, they reveled in each other’s warmth and the luxury of their surroundings.

“Isn’t it great, being in someone else’s hotel for a change?” said Lucas, dialing room service and ordering up a bottle of vintage champagne and a large bowl of french fries for Honor. “If I owned this place I’d be stressing about every crack in the ceiling right now.”

“Me too!” laughed Honor. “I thought I was the only person neurotic enough to do that sort of thing.”

“God, no. I don’t think anyone in this business can switch off,” said Lucas. “Not if they’re any good at it anyway.”

The fries arrived, as hot and salty and greasy as Lucas could have wished for, and he was encouraged to see Honor tucking into them with undisguised relish, in between gulps of ice-cold champagne.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, her mouth full, blushing as she wiped away a trickle of vegetable oil with the back of her hand. “I guess I worked up an appetite.”

“Good.” Grinning, Lucas slid beneath the covers like a torpedo and began kissing her between her thighs, gently parting her pubic hair with his fingers. “Let’s get you a bit hungrier, and then we can order more.”

Honor gasped and giggled, her legs spontaneously opening wider as his tongue darted across her clitoris. She came embarrassingly quickly.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” Emerging from beneath the sheets, Lucas was horrified to see she was crying.

“Nothing,” she sobbed. “That was just…so nice.”

Pulling her against him, Lucas stroked her long, tangled mane of hair as she lay on his chest. “It was nice for me too,”
he said, gruffly. “Better than nice. Christ, I’ve wanted you for so long.” Slowly, as the long hours of the night rolled by, he told her about everything he’d been through since leaving the Herrick: his long, desperate job search in London; the street brawl with his old boss in Ibiza that marked the low point for his battered self-esteem; the chance meeting with Connor Armstrong that changed his fortunes.

“Every day, when I walk into my hotel in Paris, or onto the new site in East Hampton, I pinch myself. I still can’t believe this is my life.”

“Lucky you,” said Honor bitterly. “Every time I walk onto that charred patch of earth that used to be Palmers, I pinch myself too. I can’t believe this is my life. But it is.”

Lucas kissed the top of her head tenderly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, I don’t want your pity, OK?” said Honor, suddenly tense again. He could feel the latticework of muscles in her back and shoulders tightening up, one after the other, like a subcutaneous Mexican wave.