He freed her beasts just as she succeeded in opening his jeans. His throbbing manhood leaped into her hands, pushing against her palm and thrusting between her fingers with blind hunger. Verity’s nails scored him lightly, then glided over the sensitive, velvety soft head. Jonas sucked in his breath, fighting to keep himself from climaxing then and there.
“Hell, Verity.”
“Is it?” she asked breathlessly.
“No, no, no.” He groaned and leaned down to close his teeth lightly around one of her tight little nipples. “More like heaven. You’re so damn hot tonight.”
She slid her fingers down his shaft and continued further below. She cupped him, squeezing a little too hard.
“Jesus Christ, take it easy, honey,” he gasped, torn between excruciating pain and excruciating desire. He grabbed her hand and pulled it slightly away from its target. “Easy does it.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said quickly. “You just need a little practice, that’s all.” He pushed her hand back into position, already missing her touch. “Try it again.”
She did, this time with such exquisite sensitivity that Jonas was sure he would never get enough of her.
“Better?” she whispered.
“Perfect.” He moved his hand down her body to the waistband of her jeans and quickly unzipped them. “Lift that sweet little tail far enough off the bed so I can get these damn jeans off you.”
She did as instructed. Jonas made certain her silky panties came off along with the jeans. She didn’t wait for his coaxing touch on her thighs. Her denims had barely hit the floor before she was raising one knee and parting her legs. The scent of her arousal made Jonas’s head swim.
The feminine invitation was irresistible. Jonas’s fingers clamped around her silken thighs, pushing them wider apart so that he could have free access to the treasure awaiting him. He parted the soft folds with his thumb and forefinger.
Verity moaned softly and Jonas’s fingers were instantly bathed in spicy dew. He slowly probed the tight, secret corridor, groaning with anticipation as he felt her clench around him.
“You’re so tight and hot,” he breathed in awe. He was dazed with her excitement. She was wild for him. Her moisture coated his whole hand. He used a second finger to open her wider, and his lower body tightened unmercifully as he felt her small muscles close fiercely around his two fingers. Deliberately he stroked deeply into the velvet sheath. Then he slowly withdrew to the entrance. Verity twisted beneath his touch, clutching at him. Her soft cries were an erotic cross between a siren’s compelling demand and a woman’s sweet surrender. They vibrated through Jonas, making him tremble with his own demanding need.
He stroked his fingers into her again, this time using his thumb to tease the small, rigid little bud at the juncture of her legs. She arched frantically, trying to pull him to her.
“Jonas. Love me. Take me now. I want you inside me now. Hurry. I’m going crazy.”
He lowered his head to where her tiny passion bud, swollen and throbbing, snuggled into dark red curls. He curled his tongue around it and was rewarded with Verity’s desperate cry of need. She grabbed his head and tried to hold him to her, offering herself to him with uninhibited passion.
Jonas reveled in the response he had provoked. A heady sense of masculine power made him tantalize her again instead of moving to satisfy her. He loved having Verity like this, full of sweet, demanding surrender. He had never had a woman respond so completely to him. It was enough to give a man delusions of grandeur.
“In a minute,” he promised, sliding one finger down beneath her hips to trace the dark velvet furrow between her clenched buttocks. “I’ll take you completely, honey. I won’t leave any part of you untouched, I promise. I’m going to go deep inside you. So deep you won’t ever be able to forget me.”
Verity gasped and pushed at his shoulders. Unprepared for the surprise move, Jonas found himself on his back. Before he could reassert himself, Verity scrambled on top of him, straddling him the way she would a stallion. He realized she was going to take matters into her own hands and he laughed triumphantly at her overwhelming excitement.
“Okay, honey, I get the message. Just let me get these jeans off and I’ll take care of everything.”
But Verity ignored him. She reached down to where his shaft sprang eagerly from the unbuttoned denims and grasped him. Then she lowered herself, trying to force him into her.
Jonas groaned in frustration as she fumbled awkwardly. His desperate manhood collided with her thigh. “I’ll help you,” he growled, reaching down between her legs. He found her damp, tight opening with one hand and guided himself quickly to the entrance with the other. “Now,” he ordered, his voice thick. “Take me into you now. Show me what you want to do to me.”
Verity’s fingers splayed wide on his chest and her head tipped back as she slowly started to ease herself down onto him. He barely survived the torture. He knew he wouldn’t last more than a few seconds once he was inside her.
He dug his fingers into her round derriere and forced her to complete the union. She gasped as he invaded her fully. She rose and fell twice, three times, and then her nails sank deep into his skin as she cried out and convulsed around him.
“Sweet hell,” Jonas whispered, and then he exploded with white-hot violence.
The questions came later. Much later. Jonas lay with one arm around a drowsing Verity and stared at the shadow pattern on the ceiling.
A wise man did not look a gift horse in the mouth, he told himself. He was fortunate to find himself in the middle of a torrid affair with a woman who wanted him so much she had practically raped him tonight. He had made love to her on only three occasions but she seemed to have become addicted to it. Theoretically, he should be thanking his lucky stars that he was the man who had awakened the sleeping tigress, and who was now in a position to enjoy the pleasures of tiger taming.
But Jonas was experiencing an inexplicable uneasiness. He had never trusted much in luck. He was a believer in the iceberg theory of the universe: never take anything at face value. Regardless of what showed on the surface, you could bet there remained a lot of unexplained territory underneath.
Now as he lay physically satiated beside Verity he found himself questioning what had not been evident during the passionate interlude that had just taken place. He was grateful for the experience, but he had to wonder just what had prompted it.
She had responded to him as if she had just taken a potent aphrodisiac. She had come out of that psychic corridor this time as aroused and ready for sex as he was. Possibly even more so.
“Mmm.” Verity shifted against him, stretching like a contented cat. She opened her eyes and smiled dreamily up at him. “Hello.”
He turned on his side and propped himself on one elbow, trying to read her expression. “How do you feel?”
“Wonderful. How about you?”
“Drained,” he admitted wryly. “You take a lot out of a man, boss.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She patted his shoulder and yawned hugely. “You’ve got a lot of resources to call upon in emergencies.” She glanced at the clock. “Good grief. Look at the time.”
“If you’re getting ready to kick me out again, forget it. I want to talk to you tonight, Verity.”
She raised her eyebrows. “About what?”
“Let’s start with sex,” he suggested, feeling mildly aggressive.
“I thought we just finished with it.”
“Save the cute remarks. I want to know what turned you on so completely tonight.”
She smiled slyly and tapped one finger against his lower lip. “That should be obvious. Feel free to take full credit.”
“I’d like to, but something tells me there was a little more involved than just my great charm and
large muscles.”
Her smile slipped and her eyes turned speculative. “I know what you mean. I had the same impression the last two times you made love to me. There is a pattern here, isn’t there?”
He frowned at her, confused. “What are you talking about?”
She shrugged, the action causing her nipples to push against the sheet. “I’m talking about the fact that the only times you’ve ever made love to me were after a trip into that damn corridor. It seems to have a distinct effect on your libido. You haven’t shown any interest in me outside of those two occasions, unless you count that kiss in the spa.”
Jonas was stunned. “Are you telling me that your libido got overcharged tonight due to that test we ran?”
She shifted her gaze toward the ceiling and pretended to yawn. “This is going to be one unusual affair if it turns out the only time we get sexually excited is after a trip into the corridor.”
Rage flared in Jonas. “I told you I wanted you that first night down in Mexico. I wanted you that night we kissed in the spa. And I’ve wanted you every night in between.”
“Really? Then how come we only wind up in bed on the nights you play psychic time voyager?” she asked quietly.
“Probably because those are the times when my self-control is at its weakest,” Jonas grated. “The rest of the time I’ve tried to take things easy and not push you. Don’t you understand? Going into the corridor doesn’t by itself make me horny. I never got a hard-on during all those tests at Vincent. My physical reaction is connected with you, not the psychometry.”
“Is that right?” She looked dubious.
“Damn right. What about you? What was it that got you so excited tonight?”
“Relief, I suppose,” she said with a sigh.
“Relief at getting through the test?”
She shook her head on the pillow. “No. Relief that you didn’t get shot inside that corridor.” The wary, teasing tone was gone from her voice. Verity’s expression was very serious as she stared up at the ceiling. “I thought you were going to get killed in there. When we got out, all I wanted to do was throw myself on top of you and reassure myself that we were both all right.”
Jonas pondered her answer. “I told you, I wasn’t in any danger.”
“I know what you told me.”
He drummed his fingers impatiently on her sheet-covered thigh. “You’re saying you jumped on me out of a sense of relief after what we’d gone through in the tunnel?”
“Something like that. I’m not sure I can explain it completely.”
“And you’ve been assuming I get turned on enough to take you to bed only after I’ve been into the corridor?” he persisted, wanting to get the facts straight before he decided what to do next. “You think this affair of ours is dependent on frequent use of my psychometry?”
“Well, it does appear that way, doesn’t it? Be honest, Jonas. You’ve admitted that the only reason you followed me out of Mexico was because of my connection to your talent. You wouldn’t have hunted me down if you thought the only thing you’d missed that night was a good lay.”
“I ought to take a belt to your sweet ass, lady. Talk about jumping to conclusions.” Jonas was infuriated by the fact that part of what she said was absolutely true. He had come after her because of the mystery. And he had made love to her only on the occasions when he’d made a trip into the corridor.
“Don’t yell at me, Jonas. I’m just stating facts.” She smiled wistfully and touched his cheek. “I don’t want to argue. Not tonight. I’m much too glad to have you here safe. Let’s forget about the facts and all the reasons we got together and just enjoy being together. You’ll go away one of these days and I want to be able to say I took full advantage of my first love affair. After all, given the statistics, I may never have another one.”
Anger mixed with a sudden flare of guilt. “Why do you say I’ll go away?”
“Men like you always move on. You’re like Dad. You don’t really want responsibility or long-term commitment. Don’t worry. I knew that going into this affair. I had my eyes wide open. Besides, I’m not looking for marriage anyway. I’ve told you that, so relax. I’m planning on growing into a bossy, independent, tyrannical old lady. A real shrew. But at least I won’t be an old maid.”
“Verity, this is getting all mixed up. I don’t think I like being written off as useless in the long run. And I don’t like your assumption that I’m staying here only because of your ability to anchor me when I go into that corridor. Maybe I did follow you initially because of the mystery surrounding you, but there are other factors involved now. This isn’t a simple situation for either of us. Don’t try to make it simple by pigeonholing me or our relationship. And don’t get the idea you can use me as a stud for a while and then discard me when it suits you.”
“I don’t want to argue. Not tonight, Jonas.” Verity slid her leg between his knees. Her skin was creamy smooth against his tough, hairy flesh. Her fingertips drew a small pattern on his thigh. Jonas groaned and swore softly as his body reacted instantly. “Show me you want me now,” she whispered. “Prove to me you don’t have to make another trip into that corridor to work up a desire for me.”
Jonas leaned over her, trapping her teasing legs with his own. He was already hard again. He tested himself against her thigh, letting her know that he was more than ready.
“I already knew you were hell to work for,” he muttered against her mouth. “Now it looks like you’re going to be equally demanding in bed. Lucky for you I’m so easygoing, good-natured, and willing to please.”
“I’ve always heard opposites attract.”
Kincaid looked up impatiently as Hatch walked into the elegantly bare office.
“Well?” Kincaid asked.
“I’ve got the initial background report on both Ames and Quarrel. Ames is not particularly interesting. Nothing more than what she seems, a woman running a little cafe in a small town. But Quarrel is a bit more unusual. He’s got a Ph.D. in history and until five years ago he had a reputation as a consultant for museums and collectors.”
Kincaid frowned. “What kind of consultant?”
“He was frequently asked to verify the authenticity of certain items being considered for purchase. Seems he had what some people call the ‘touch.’ He was never proved wrong. But five years ago he walked away from his teaching job and his consulting work and started drifting. He’s held odd jobs every place from Tahiti to Mexico. Now he’s washing dishes and waiting tables for Ames.”
Kincaid sat silently for a moment, letting the information sink in. “A dishwasher with a background in museum consulting who has somehow gotten himself invited to Caitlin Evanger’s home. Very interesting.”
“The investigator made some inquiries at the spa near the restaurant. Ames is good friends with the owners. The investigator got the impression that Evanger is Ames’s friend and that it was she who got the invitation to visit. Apparently Ames just decided to take Quarrel along for the ride.” Hatch shrugged. “The report says it’s almost certain he’s her lover.”
“Were Ames and Evanger friends before Quarrel appeared on the scene?”
Hatch glanced hurriedly through the report. “No, sir. Doesn’t look that way.”
“Quite a coincidence that a reclusive artist who has few known social contacts suddenly becomes close friends with a little cafe operator who just happens to have a lover who’s got a background in consulting for museums and collectors.”
“There’s more, sir.”
“Finish it.” Kincaid swung around to face the view from his window.
Hatch cleared his throat. “It seems that Jonas Quarrel has let it be known in certain circles that he is acting as an agent for an unidentified party who wishes to sell a very valuable set of antique dueling pistols.”
Kincaid steepled his hands. “Has he contacted any museums?”
“No. The investigation report says it’s all being handled on the quiet. This is to be a very private sale.”
Kincaid considered. “I want to talk to this Jonas Quarrel myself. I need an opportunity to size him up. He may be perfectly harmless. But we have to consider the fact that he is close to Evanger, who has a history of not letting anyone from the art world get close to her. We must also consider the possibility that he is somehow involved in the sale of Bloodlust.”
Hatch frowned. “How?”
Kincaid shrugged. “I don’t know. The most likely scenario is that he’s representing an interested bidder who prefers to remain anonymous. If so, that bidder, whoever he is, obviously has special status—otherwise his agent, Quarrel, would not be paying private visits to a woman who never invites people to her home. I want to know what I’m facing. I can deal with financial competition, but if there’s something more involved, I need to know about it in advance. I’ll be able to tell a great deal about Quarrel if I can meet him. I might be able to figure out where he fits in to the picture.”
“I understand,” Hatch said calmly. He did not like Kincaid, but could not doubt the man’s ability to assess the motives and weaknesses of others. That skill was one of the many that had brought Kincaid this far. “What do you want me to do?”
“Let’s try the easy way first. Advise him discreetly that you’ve heard rumors of the availability of the pistols and that you represent a collector who’s interested in them. Let him know that money is no object and that your collector certainly won’t ask any awkward questions concerning the provenance of the pistols. See if he takes the bait. If he does, invite him to see me here in my office.”
“Yes, sir.” Hatch nodded to Kincaid’s back in the same formal, polite way he would have nodded if Kincaid had been facing him. Habits were habits, and the ones Hatch had cultivated had kept him employed for quite a while.