Secrets and Seduction: 5 Romance Novels (33 page)

Christian’s tongue prodded her lips for entry. When she opened her mouth and let him in, the glide of his tongue on hers was pure magic. She moaned into his mouth.

Christian gathered her in close to his hard body. In her mind and in real life she was pressed to him, a dual stimulation. She was unable to separate the two, until he entered her in the vision and their striving for oneness began. In real time, he pressed his burgeoning erection to her belly. She wanted what he offered, the real man and the dream, wanted the solace of warm arms, wanted not to be alone, wanted the dream of love everlasting … even if it was a lie.

Someone bumped them. “Excuse me.”

Gabrielle became aware of the rain plunking on the taut umbrella, of thunder in the distance, of their proximity to the front door of Republic, of the carnal scene still playing out to its inevitable conclusion in her mind. Heat washed her cheeks, for what they’d been doing in front of possible witnesses, and because of the other scene he couldn’t possibly be aware of.

There was only so far she could pull away from him and remain dry, but she needed to be free of his touch. “Let go of me.”

“No. I don’t know what it is when I touch you, but I can’t let you go.”

He tugged her toward the parking lot and she went willingly. In her head, she and Christian achieved orgasm and he collapsed onto her, searching for her lips. Somehow she knew he would make love to her again, and she wanted to be away from Christian’s touch before then.

Rain splashed around them as they ran to the car. Lightning flashed and thunder crashed overhead. When Christian tried to push her in the back door, she balked.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to make love to you. Now.”

“No.” She yanked away from him.

He tried to grab her back, but she stepped from underneath the umbrella. Immediately the rain began to soak through her clothes.

“You’re getting wet. Climb in the car and I’ll warm you like I’ve been dreaming of doing.”

He couldn’t be referring to the vision. “We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“The hell we don’t. I made love to you all night long.”

Breath left her. She’d dreamed of making love to him last night, but it couldn’t be the same dream. They just shared lust and an undeniable attraction to each other, that’s all. It was natural they’d both have x-rated dreams.

“Just a few minutes ago you were criticizing me. Now you want to have sex. I don’t think so.” She shook her head to emphasize her rejection.

“A minute ago you were plastered to me and your hips were moving against mine. We wanted the same thing. I still do. No one’s going to see us in this downpour.”

Gabrielle should have been cold, being almost wet to the skin, but his words heated her blood to boiling. Her nipples pebbled and she was sure he could see them through her wet shirt. There was an aching emptiness between her legs she knew he could fill and fill well. But having sex with him in a car in the parking lot of Republic Steel was out of the question.

She stalked around the car and got in on the passenger side. For a moment, Christian continued to stand in the rain. Then he shoved his umbrella between the back seats, and climbed in. His face was dark with temper and something else, the skin taut across his cheekbones.

“I need you,” he said between gritted teeth.

And she needed him. “I know you do. I also know why.”

He turned to face her. His pupils were still enlarged with arousal. “It’s you I want, not just any woman. Did you refuse because I haven’t been proved innocent yet?”

She shook her head. “No.” She fought the urge to touch him. Maybe if she admitted part of the truth to him. “Christian, I have bad luck with men. I’ve been hurt more than once. I can’t have meaningless sex, and I’m afraid of anything more.”

“I won’t hurt you, Gabrielle. This hunger I have for you isn’t something that’s going to be appeased in a few days. Every time I touch you I go mad with the desire to make love with you. Hell, I don’t even have to touch you to want you.”

“You may not mean to hurt me, but you will. It’s not a lifetime commitment you’re looking for.”

“We have to begin somewhere, but you won’t even give me a chance.”

“I’m sorry.” There were so many reasons why they shouldn’t make love. Loneliness shouldn’t be the reason they did.

As Christian retraced their path back to the road, Gabrielle regretted not being able to lie in his arms. She still felt the imprint of his naked chest on her breasts, of his belly against hers, of his weight on her. She wanted all that, with the desperation of a woman who hadn’t had sex in nearly two years.

DesignCorp was located in a new glass building on a block that looked like the old was slowly being replaced by the new.

Christian retrieved his umbrella and walked around to her side of the car. Although she didn’t want him to touch her, she didn’t want to get any wetter. Already she was going to look like a drowned rat when she presented herself.

She was ready this time when Christian wrapped his arm around her, or so she thought. The feel of his penis sliding wetly in and out of her was incredibly real. The intimate stretching was arousing. The rub of his chest across her nipples brought them to points. Christian groaned. Wait, that sound came from the man next to her.

She turned to look at him. His eyes were nearly black with arousal. His skin was the dusky color of a man making love.

“God, I’ve got to have you. That feels so real.”

She jerked. He was seeing it, too. But that was impossible. She was panting hard, and not from what they were doing in the vision. Never had a man shared that part of her mind. Why now? Why this man?

When they entered the lobby, the cold air conditioning brushed across her wet skin and clothes. Her nipples, already taut, tightened painfully into nubs and she shivered.

Christian stepped away from her to shake out the umbrella and she breathed a sigh of relief to be released from his arousing nearness.

DesignCorp was the opposite of Republic Steel. The décor bespoke newness and a recent infusion of capital. The lobby gleamed with a faux marble floor.

The receptionist was young, with straight blonde hair, the upper half pulled back in a claw clip. “May I help you?”

Gabrielle went through the now-familiar spiel.

But the young woman frowned. “I’m sorry, Ms. Healey, but no one here is to speak with you or Mr. Ziko.”

Christian said, “But we need to talk to whoever did the testing for the Densmore Building.”

“I’m sorry, but I have my orders from the president of the company. You’ll have to leave.”

“I don’t understand,” Gabrielle protested. “Why aren’t you allowed to speak to us?”

“We received a subpoena half an hour ago. That’s when the president of DesignCorp said we weren’t to talk to anyone, especially Mr. Ziko.”

“But you’ve got evidence pertinent to Mr. Ziko’s case and important to my investigation. We have to see it,” Gabrielle said.

“We’ll provide our information to the court. Please, I’m not allowed to speak with you.”

Christian took hold of Gabrielle’s arm and moved her out of hearing range of the reception desk. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.

“It’s Kit,” he said into the receiver.

Gabrielle could hear the agitated male voice on the other end, but not the words.

“I’m your friend,” Christian said. “What do you mean you can’t talk to me?”

The voice dropped too low for Gabrielle to hear.

“No, man, I don’t want to jeopardize your job, but I don’t want to go to jail, either. I need to see the test results for the Densmore.”

Christian listened intently, his face darkening. “No, I understand. It’s nothing personal.” His voice sounded bitter.

Whatever his friend said next relaxed his face and his posture. “No, I believe you. Thanks for telling me. I’ll still see you next weekend?”

The reply made Christian’s lips curl at the corner, almost a smile. “Yeah, me too. See you.”

He ended the call and tucked his phone away.

“So it’s true?” Gabrielle asked.

“Yeah. The president of DesignCorp placed a gag order on the employees. Whoever talks gets canned, no matter what.”

“Damn. I wanted to see the evidence. Now we’ll have to wait until they respond to the subpoena.”

“We’ll get nowhere here.” Christian urged her toward the glass doors. “Where else do we need to go?”

“I’m going to visit your rival Cranston’s firm. Do you know where it is?”

Christian smirked. “Warren, a few miles from Kernfelter’s office.”

“You can drop me at Cranston’s and take the samples to Kernfelter.”

“Okay. That works for me.”

They used the umbrella once they were outside in the rain. This time the vision was worse because Christian was sucking her breasts. She bit back a groan in real life, although her vision self experienced no such restraint.

“Back seat, please,” Christian pleaded.

She wanted it as much as he did, but she had to be strong. “Get in and drive, Christian.”

He growled with frustration, but did as she asked. “I’ve never had such clear thoughts of being with a woman.”

Gabrielle sucked in her breath. Visions were like that. “You’ve got a vivid imagination, Christian.”

He gave her a long look, then started the car.

Traffic was moving fast as they approached the Chrysler Freeway, with cars darting to the lanes drivers wanted to be in. In the steadily falling rain, red taillights flashed on and off ahead of them.

Christian was trying to merge into the left lane for the Chrysler when a large dark SUV cut them off. There was nowhere to go so Christian slammed on the brakes. The Jeep slid toward the concrete divider. Another vehicle hit them in the rear, driving the Jeep hard into the concrete.

The collision was jarring. It threw Gabrielle forward against her seatbelt and then to the left. Horns blared around them. Brakes screamed. She braced herself for another impact, but luck must have been with them, because cars continued to pass them, their red brake lights indicating they were at least slowing down, if not stopping.

“Can we move?” Gabrielle asked.

When Christian said nothing, she looked at him harder. His head leaned against the driver’s window and he was completely still.

“Christian?” She reached over and touched him. For the first time in her life, she read nothing. It was like white noise in her head. She knew he must be unconscious.

She tugged on his arm. Like a rag doll, his head rolled toward her. Blood seeped down the left side of his face from a cut above his brow.

Christian left the North Detroit General Hospital ER with a concussion, a bottle of pain pills, a bad case of nausea, and an even worse case of mortification. He hated looking pathetic in front of Gabrielle. This was a woman he wanted to take to bed and make scream with pleasure. He didn’t want her feeling pity or disgust while he was incapacitated.

The ER doctor had told Christian someone had to wake him every hour, so he’d begged Gabrielle to stay with him. Now she drove the rental car to his condo in Bloomfield Hills. He fought down nausea, hoping to avoid further humiliation. An interminable twenty minutes later they pulled into his driveway. None too soon, as far as he was concerned.

The car was immediately mobbed by reporters.

“Mr. Ziko, what do you feel your chances are for a dismissal?” one shouted.

“Who do you feel is guilty, if not you?” another asked.

“Mr. Ziko, what happened to your head?”

Had he known reporters would be here, he would have let Gabrielle take the samples to Kernfelter and nausea be damned.

She came around the side of the rental car, and to his dismay, helped him out. He hoped he wouldn’t have sexual daydreams about her in front of the press when she took hold of his arm. What he got, besides the sensual jolt of skin on skin, was a feeling of coming home. His skin buzzed with electricity where they touched.

Cameras flashed. The bright light of a camcorder caught his helplessness on film. Shit.

“Are you trying for the sympathy vote?” one caustic voice called.

“Clear a path,” Gabrielle said.

“Who’s she?” a reporter asked.

Damn. Any hope of keeping Gabrielle’s anonymity went out the window. At least she’d removed her name tag. But enterprising reporters would dig until they found out who she was.

“No comment,” he said.

Someone stuck a microphone in his face. “Mr. Ziko, how do you feel about the new subpoenas handed down today?”

“I said, no comment.”

“Murderer!” a male voice yelled from the back of the crowd.

Gabrielle stopped, making Christian grab her as he lurched. Half the reporters thrust microphones in his face, the other half rushed to provide an equal forum for a young man in his early twenties. His brown hair was buzz cut, his T-shirt displayed muscular arms and chest, and his face was red with anger … and hatred.

“Murderer,” the young man repeated with fervor. “You killed my sister Gina. You need to pay for what you did, Ziko.”

What could Christian say to this young man? He knew how it felt to lose someone you loved. But he wasn’t guilty.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

The young man stalked toward Christian in a threatening manner. No one tried to stop him. “She was my only family. You killed her, the same as if you’d shot her.”

“Christian,” Gabrielle said.

“What’s your name?” Christian asked.

The young man stopped and drew himself up straighter. “Wes. Wes Masterson. You’d better remember it because I’m going to make sure you pay for what you did. Your high-priced lawyer won’t help you slip away from the charges. I know you’re guilty, and so does everyone here.” His arm waved over the army of reporters.

Gabrielle tugged on Christian’s arm, forcing him toward the house.

Christian had almost reached his front door when Masterson got in his face. “You deserve to go to jail. You deserve worse than jail. My sister’s dead while you’re still walking around.”

“We’re trying to find who killed your sister,” Christian said.

“You killed my sister. You’re trying to make people doubt the truth.” He poked Christian in the chest.