A loud honk and flash of headlights indicated the cab had arrived. He took one final look at the woman with the hazel eyes and freckles. Pretty and wholesome.
"Thanks for coming by," she said softly. "Otherwise, I might have passed out in a container of Chunky Monkey."
"See you on the golf course tomorrow," Zen cast over his shoulder. "I'll be the one in the cart."
"I'll be the one with the chocolate hangover." She closed the door, rubbed her stomach and moaned at its fullness.
"No room service. No spa. This place is a dump," Natalie Llewellyn complained as she slid down the zipper on her black dress and let it shimmy down her body. A body she openly admired in the mirror above the burl walnut chest of drawers. Her high, perky breasts, and tight, round bottom now curved beneath smoky wisps of beaded LaPerla.
At thirty-five, she could pass for twenty-eight. A little nip and tuck next year, and she'd claim thirty on her fortieth birthday. She thanked God for good genes, a personal trainer, and a discreet cosmetic surgeon. All kept her sleek and at the top of her game.
Her game tonight was playing with Aaron Grayson.
Sex play. Raw, urgent, and clawing. Wild and insane.
And public.
Her heart slammed with the fear of getting caught.
"Pull the drapes, Natalie," Aaron requested as he shrugged off his Armani suit coat. "You're nearly naked."
Not naked enough. She moved to the sliding glass doors and stood framed in the moonlight, visible to anyone walking past. She fingered the edge of the curtain. "Mock velvet."
Aaron loosened his silk tie and unbuttoned his dress shirt. "I thought you'd like Crawford House. The bed and breakfast is considered quaint."
Quaint, if she hadn't been blinded by the tangelo exterior and electric blue shutters. Quaint, if she was into quilts, homemade crafts and antique reproductions. "It's not the Ritz."
Aaron remained quiet. Unusually so. He toed off his dress Oxfords, then unzipped and stepped out of his tailored pants. He faced her in his T-shirt, black
Calvin Klein briefs, and his socks. "I warned you against coming. It's a charity weekend. Over in three days. I would have returned home on Monday."
Monday had seemed a lifetime away. Absently, she flipped a light switch by the glass doors, curious as to what would be illuminated. Beyond the glass, a flower garden came to life. Tiny frosted bulbs lit the ivory roses and gardenia bushes. A short hedge enclosed a rope swing beneath a trellised arbor.
She turned slightly, pressing her back and bottom to the cool glass. The arch of her spine pushed her breasts high. "How would you have spent your free time if I'd stayed away?"
He shed his T-shirt and pulled off his socks. "The weekend's packed with player activities. I don't have a lot of time to socialize."
"Not even with Stevie Cole?" She caught his flinch and pressed him further. "Didn't take you for a chubby chaser."
His jaw tightened fractionally. "Stevie's not fat," he said in defense of his friend. "You know our history. I laid it out clearly when we started dating. The same night you told me about Zen Driscoll."
Zen… her heart hadn't healed after all this time. She missed him with a constant ache. Even now she called him on occasion, quickly hanging up, just to hear his voice. She'd chosen Aaron Grayson as her revenge against Zen.
Aaron, the pitcher with the most lucrative contract in major league baseball. Aaron, with the golden boy looks and the naive belief she loved only him.
In a fit of pique at being left alone for the week-end, she'd phoned Frostproof's Chamber of Commerce and inquired as to which players would be attending the weekend events. When she'd discovered Zen Driscoll had been added to the list, she'd called for the company Cessna and flown to the backward town.
Her appearance at the charity auction had forced Aaron to announce their engagement. But her ploy hadn't worked as well as she had hoped. Her timing was off. By about thirty minutes. She'd shocked Ste-vie Cole, but Zen had already departed with some brat and a bunch of books.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to face the shortstop. To flash her smile and ten-carat engagement ring. She wanted Zen to see her deliriously happy. A happiness she would fake for the weekend.
"Zen Driscoll is my past." Her passion for the man with the intelligent eyes and sexual control was still buried in her soul. "Have you truly put Stevie behind you?"
"You know I have."
Her gaze fixed on his sex beneath his black briefs. It was shriveled and lifeless. "Stevie bid on you tonight."
"You won me," he reminded her. "The money will help raise the roof on the recreation center."
"What can you raise for me now?'"
He yawned. "How about I salute the sun in the morning? It's late. I'm whipped."
She wasn't the least bit tired. "Bet you could get it up for Stevie."
He ran one hand down his face. "Damn, Natalie, don't go there."
"Bet her plump breasts and thighs would entice you."
His sex twitched. "Stop talking about her."
"Afraid you'll ejaculate?"
"Nasty thought, even for you." His expression was pure disgust. "I don't want to fight."
Oh, but they were going to fight. She'd gotten excited thinking about Zen. Aaron would have to appease her need.
She licked her lips. "Would Stevie take you in her mouth? Would she expect you to go down on her?"
There was a shortness in his breath. A definite bulge in his briefs.
"You want Stevie, don't you, Aaron?"
"Stop baiting me." His voice was deep and aggravated.
Natalie was getting to him. "If I wasn't here, you'd be at her place right now, wouldn't you? All naked. Screwing your brains out. For old time's sake."
"Bitch." Aaron crossed to her, fire in his eyes, his sex straight up against his belly. He grabbed her by the shoulders, jerked her close. "I want you."
She tossed back her hair, bared her teeth. "Liar."
Provoked, he brought his mouth down on hers with the force of his anger. Not the savage anger she preferred in most men, but still the taste of his temper parted her lips and lingered on her tongue. She scratched his shoulders, his back, his buttocks. Enjoying the flex of his muscles, the rise of welts from her long red nails.