The Fifth Favor (13 page)

Stepping beneath the steaming, relentless spray, he leaned against the shower wall and let the water beat on his head and the nape of his neck, washing Billie from his skin, but not from his thoughts.

A running reel of the last two weeks flashed before his mind. His life had changed irretrievably. He’d lost his best friend in the blink of an eye. He’d lost himself. And then 68

The Fifth Favor

he’d found Billie. Tonight she had followed him home and slipped one foot in the door of his secret life, a place no woman had ventured in years. In her own fumbling way, she’d reminded him he was just a man, fallible, needful, a member of the supremely imperfect human race…and shamefully undeserving of what she had to offer.

Looking at Billie, touching her, tasting her, had filled him with a wanting fiercer than any he’d known. For the first time, he was faced with something he couldn’t truly have, because of what he’d become.

He swallowed the inexplicable lump in his throat and reached for the soap. As he lathered his chest, suds sluiced down his torso and over his fiery erection, snowy white bubbles streaking the hot red skin of his arousal, gathering on his aching testicles, dripping sinuously between his thighs. Automatically his fingers skimmed down his stomach, ready to relieve the agonizing pressure, and then he hesitated. Watched in distant fascination at the way his turgid penis jerked toward his hand, like a desperate creature with a mind of its own.

Abruptly he turned and wrenched the cold water tap to full blast, forcing himself to stand beneath the spray’s icy needles, teeth clenched against the frigid shock. Self-punishment for playing with fire. Billie couldn’t be his client. She couldn’t be his lover.

She didn’t fit in his world, or he in hers. Yet his desire to see her again raged, driving him to the sick realization that he would call her, he would talk to her and think about her, he would push the envelope until danger reared up before him and both their hearts were on the line.

Christ almighty—he didn’t know what he wanted from her. The answers were too new, too startling, to even entertain.

69

Shelby Reed

What Adrian wanted in return for her pleasure, Billie found out Friday, was a date to Music Under the Stars, the annual summer festival where a string quartet would pay homage to Mozart in Rock Creek Park.

Bewildered by the innocent-sounding invitation, she played his message on her answering service again to make sure she’d heard it correctly, then a third time, just for the thrill of hearing his low, polished words asking for the pleasure of her company “in accordance with their arrangement.”

Shivering with excitement and a shaky uncertainty, Billie dug through her purse, retrieved the only phone number he’d given her—his private quarters at Avalon—and left a brief acceptance on his voicemail, praying he’d get the message. Then she searched her closet for the perfect outfit and came out with a black, sleeveless dress.

Casual but sexy. She soaked in a bubble bath in her cramped porcelain tub, letting her knees fall open and closed again so that the water’s gentle current caressed the aching place between her legs. Visions of the whirlpool bath at Avalon floated through her mind. Her nerves jumped and danced. Was this a date? She wasn’t even sure she and Adrian were friends. What the hell did he want from her?

Something more than she could imagine, her instincts told her, but the uneasiness it stirred only fed the fire burning low in her belly. Instead of fear, arousal gilded every scenario she conjured regarding what a date with Adrian Antoli would hold in store.

She would brave any challenge he threw her way. Common sense had abandoned her and left Cousin Spontaneity in its place.

She climbed out of the tub and reached for a towel, the floral scent of bubble bath heavy in the thick, humid air. Tonight would only lead to more of Adrian’s special brand of pleasure, no doubt. But why would he bestow it on her, when he, a glorified male prostitute, could have any woman he wanted and be paid for it? Confusion lodged like a pounding ache in the back of her mind.

Billie hit the drain release and watched the bubbles spiral down, taking her enthusiasm with them.

She was fooling herself to think he wanted her for
her
, and this sudden insight had little to do with low self-esteem. Billie understood ulterior motives, and Adrian Antoli had a lot to lose, the least of which was his exalted position at Avalon, if Lucien’s death were pinned on him.
But get a reporter on your side, one with a big mouth
…

Then she remembered his lips on hers as they stood in the doorway of his apartment. Again, when he put her in the taxi. His touch had felt genuine, had tugged on the armored casing that protected her heart, and she’d left knowing without a doubt 70

The Fifth Favor

that he was capable of tenderness. He, too, deserved love, companionship. But the idea that he might want it from her alarmed some deep, nebulous place in her morality.

Anyway, the last thing she needed was a relationship so high-fire fueled by sex her brain would turn to mush.

Nora called just as Billie was fastening a single strand of pearls around her neck.

“You’re on speakerphone,” Billie told her, scrambling around her apartment in bare feet while she searched for her black low-heeled sandals. “I know you hate that, but I’m running late.”

“Hot date?” Nora asked.

If you only knew
. “Something like that.” She dove into her closet and shoes flew in every direction. Every pair she owned except the sexy, strappy sandals she sought.

Damn it, where were they? She crawled toward the bed and found them under the dust ruffle.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?” Nora sounded maligned. “You always tell me about your boyfriends.”

“And you always list the reasons why I shouldn’t be dating them.” Nora would have a field day with this one, for sure. Especially since she’d alluded to sleeping with Adrian herself. An image of her friend’s rail-thin body clasped in Adrian’s strong arms stopped Billie in the middle of slipping a sandal on her foot. Supremely disturbed, she stumbled and hopped to catch herself. “Damn.”

“So that’s the reason you’re keeping this one to yourself?” Nora demanded. “You think I’m going to tell you why you shouldn’t be going out with this guy?”

“That’s part of it.” Billie grabbed her purse, glanced in the mirror and tried to imagine what Adrian would think when he saw her. It was futile. Guessing what went on in his enigmatic mind was impossible.

The reporter in Nora had been awakened by her friend’s ambiguity. “What’s the other part?”

“I’ll tell you about it on Monday. Goodnight, nosy.” Billie crossed to disconnect the speakerphone.

“Wait! Call me tomorrow. I heard some more details on the investigation at Avalon.”

Billie’s throat went dry. “What is it?”

“Your boy Adrian’s still not out of the woods. Apparently his alibi didn’t check out.”

“Shit,” Billie said. “Shit!”

“That’s not the response I was expecting.”

Billie squeezed her eyes closed. The last thing she wanted was to make Nora suspicious. “I’m just…surprised. How did you find this out?”

“I told you I had lunch with Rich Hales, one of the detectives on that case. I think he’s interested in me. He’s been telling me info the investigators shouldn’t tell anyone.”

71

Shelby Reed

“For crying out loud…” Billie pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.

“Nora, that’s totally unethical. He could ruin the entire investigation by leaking details like that.”

“No kidding. And he won’t get a second date out of me unless he has more to tell.”

She snickered at Billie’s sound of disgust. “Listen, I know that article’s gathering dust, but don’t pitch it just yet. If the Avalon investigation goes public, maybe we’ll jump on the bandwagon after all. And I know you’re dying to be
Illicit’s
circling hawk. Maybe I’ll wave my magic wand and let the exposé drop into your hot little hands, since you were so peeved about losing the assignment on Adrian.” When Billie didn’t respond, she said, “You still there?”

“Yes.” Heart pounding, Billie shook off a creeping nausea and slung her purse on her shoulder. “I’ve got to go, Nora. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She disconnected the speakerphone without waiting for a response.

* * * * *

Billie found Adrian waiting for her in the driveway in front of her apartment building. He leaned against the most exquisite navy blue BMW sedan she’d ever seen, arms crossed over his chest, studying the tips of his loafers.

It wasn’t the car that caught her breath. She paused at the glass door and watched him for a moment, transfixed. The summer breeze ruffled his hair, shot through with chestnut highlights from the setting sun.

Her gaze took in the breadth of his shoulders beneath the white cotton shirt, the brown hollow of his throat where his collar opened. He looked casual in khakis, elegant.

She wondered if he knew his alibi hadn’t checked out. She wondered if he’d lied about his relationship with Lucien; she wondered if those hands that had penetrated and pleasured her body with such skilled, deliberate care had pushed another man to his death with the same concentration.

She searched deep within her reporter’s intuition for the answers and found herself lost. Somewhere in the last few days her heart had swelled, taken over her chest and strangled her common sense. She didn’t just desire this man anymore. It threatened to swallow her, the need that pierced her as she stood there, watching him. But to define the emotions roiling within her would be too frightening this early in the game. And maybe that was all it was. A game.

As if sensing the turmoil on the other side of the doors, Adrian lifted his head and met her gaze through the glass. Billie’s heart flipped wildly behind her breast.

“You look beautiful,” he told her when she stepped into the balmy evening.

“Thanks,” she said, battling shyness. “So do you.”

72

The Fifth Favor

He opened the passenger door for her, then walked around to the driver’s side.

When he climbed in, he glanced over at her and paused. “You’re nervous.”

She cleared her throat. “I don’t know what you expect from me tonight.”

“I expect nothing.” He started the engine. “Except the pleasure of your company.”

Muted jazz softened the tension in the sedan. Curled up on the tan leather seat, Billie couldn’t take her gaze off his fingers as they rested on the wooden steering wheel.

She felt them on her breasts, between her legs, inside her, where even now she ached for him. She saw his hands on a million other women, and wondered yet again why she was here, inside his expensive car on the way to a beautiful moonlit concert, as though the police weren’t breathing down his neck and she wasn’t playing make-believe.

His aftershave scented the air inside the vehicle. Soap, mint, warm male. They didn’t speak again until he merged onto the highway. Then he said, “Are you having second thoughts?”

She hesitated. “No. I’m glad to be here.”

“You do like Mozart, I hope.”

“Very much.” She stared past him as a low-slung sports car tore by in the left lane.

Fast, sexy, dangerous. Pale in comparison to the intense force beside her. “Why did you invite me tonight, Adrian?”

He glanced at her, then back at the road. “You remind me there’s still a world out there,” he said simply.

* * * * *

While Billie waited, Adrian retrieved a leather satchel and a plaid blanket from the trunk of the car.

“What’s in there?” She eyed the expensive-looking case he slung over his shoulder.

“A bottle of Chardonnay. Two glasses. Do you drink white wine?”

“I do tonight.” It would calm her jittery nerves, and the humor in his expression told her he understood.

The quartet sat on a performance platform at the base of a grassy hill. While the musicians tuned their instruments, the hollow, haunted notes of cello and violin rose into the August night, at once discordant and melodic.

Adrian found a secluded spot beneath a gnarled dogwood and spread out the blanket.

Accepting a glass of wine from him, Billie sat on the soft ground, her legs stretched out in front of her. Fireflies infused the fallen darkness with their iridescent glow, drifting like tiny neon dancers on the breeze. The wine, tart and heady, chilled her tongue. She held it in her mouth, savored it and let it slide down her throat to cool her heated senses.

73

Shelby Reed

Adrian sat beside her, his back resting against the sturdy tree trunk. Bracing an elbow on his bent knee, he studied the wine in his glass. Then he studied her. His gaze dragged over her hair, which she had worn curly tonight. It was wilder than usual. She was wilder than usual.

“What are you thinking, Billie?”

The Chardonnay had loosened her tongue, her muscles, stolen the top layer of her inhibitions. “Hmm…that I enjoy listening to musicians tune their instruments as much as the actual concert.” She turned her head to look at him more directly. “They offer these concerts every summer. Do you usually attend?”

“Once in a while.”

“Do you come here with your clients?”

“No,” he said, his tone somber. “This place feels worlds away from Avalon.” He edged down on the blanket, shifted on his side and propped an elbow beneath him. The breeze fingered through his sable hair. “When I was a child, my father used to bring me here. Every Fourth of July there’d be a concert, fireworks, cookouts. It was magic to me.

It still is, to feel so removed from the city when high-rise buildings sit right over the hill.”

Billie was still focused on the hint he’d dropped about his father. “So you grew up in Washington?”

“Nearby.”

“And are your parents still around?”

Adrian’s lashes lifted and he watched her, as though weighing whether to share the information. Then a smile tugged at his mouth and he looked away. “They live in Miami now. I come from a big Italian family. I have three very possessive sisters who think one day I’ll settle down with a nice Catholic girl. I’m a Scorpio, I like mysteries, and Halloween is my favorite holiday. Anything else?”