Sultry Pleasure Page 10

  Marcus blew out a breath. What the hell was he going to do?

  Chapter 12

  A sudden noise woke Diana. Her eyes snapped open and the mattress squeaked as she sat up in bed. Disoriented, she glanced at her bedside clock. Nearly two in the afternoon.

  What was that noise?

  The light beyond her curtains was still bright, but her bedroom was sheltered in its own darkness. Then she heard the rattling sound again. She jumped up and grabbed the baseball bat from under her bed. With the bat raised to strike, Diana crept silently toward the living room. Everything was just as she left it. The day bright, the windows open to let in the half-light of the rainy day.

  “If I was a burglar, you’d be dead.”

  She squeaked and spun around. It was her brother. He stood in the entrance between her kitchen and living room, drinking a bottle of mineral water.

  Diana clenched her teeth hard. “What are you doing here, Jason?”

  “Setting you straight.” Jason drank deeply from the green glass bottle, then dropped it with a thud on the kitchen counter. He was disheveled, even for him, his T-shirt wrinkled and pulled on inside out, one leg of his jeans rolled up while the other hung over his tennis shoes. “What do you think you’re doing with Marcus Stanfield?”

  Diana stared at him, not certain she’d heard correctly. “Excuse me?”

  “Marcus Stanfield is a parasite. Why are you sleeping with him?”

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Finally, she just turned away from her little brother and dropped the bat on the sofa. Diana cleared her throat.

  “First of all, who I sleep with is none of your business.” She felt anger well up in her, but swallowed it. “I’m the older one here. You don’t question me like I’m some kid.”

  “I wouldn’t if you weren’t acting like one,” Jason said, his voice rising. “Stanfield is not good for you. He’s just doing more to ruin our family and you’re helping him, falling into his bed like all those other whores.”

  Diana drew in a hissing breath. “What the hell did you just say to me?”

  She saw her brother swallow as if aware he’d just stepped across a line, but he didn’t apologize. “How could you do this, Diana? You’re betraying your own family. Don’t you see that?”

  “What I’m seeing is my little brother breaking into my house and talking to me any kind of way. Are you out of your damn mind?” She stepped toward him. “Again, who I sleep with is none of your business. Absolutely none! I can have Satan himself in my bed, and you can’t have a damn thing to say about it. Marcus is just a man. A man who I happen to find attractive. Even if he is a mistake, he is my mistake to make.”

  “You’re screwing up!” he shouted.

  “No, you are.” As she stepped closer to him, he backed up into the kitchen. Diana stopped. “Give me the key you used to get here.”

  “Diana—”

  “Give it to me now, Jason.” She held out her hand, palm up.

  “Diana—”

  She only stared at him, her gaze relentless, until he finally pulled the key from his pocket and dropped it in her hand. Diana curled her fingers around the metal that was still warm from his body. “Now go.”

  He shook his head, about to say something else.

  “Just go!” she finally shouted, forced to raise her voice. “I can’t look at you right now. I really can’t.”

  A look of deep hurt flashed across his face, a squirming on his handsome features. She turned away from him, stalked to the door and yanked it open. “Next time you come here, wait to be invited in.” Anger flashed through her body, burning into her stomach.

  He stared at her, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. Then he gathered himself, straightened to his full six-foot height and walked slowly toward her and the door. “I’m telling Mama about this,” he spat as he crossed the threshold.

  “Grow up!” she growled and slammed the door in his face.

  Chapter 13

  Marcus held up the bottle of wine when the front door to Bailey and Seven Carmichael’s condo opened. Bailey stood in the doorway, chic in a white sheath dress that emphasized the graceful lines of her body, her permed hair styled in an elegant pompadour.

  “Marcus!” She greeted him with a smile and lifted her cheek for him to kiss. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Thanks for inviting me. I was moping around at home before I got Seven’s message.”

  Bailey laughed, a flash of white teeth against burgundy lips. “I doubt that.” She opened the door wider and invited him inside.

  Marcus had always liked Bailey. In the beginning, it was with the intention of bedding her. Now, he simply loved her as a friend. It was one of life’s better coincidences that she ended up falling in love with someone he knew and respected, someone who, truth be told, was a much better match for Bailey than he could have ever been.

  He stepped inside the condo, which was alive with laughter, the swing of classic reggae, voices of the other guests at the early-evening dinner party. A cloud of delicious scents drifted out, making his mouth instantly water. He hadn’t eaten all day and had been very much looking forward to dinner with his friends. He should have been there an hour earlier but got caught up in a meeting that lasted longer than he’d planned. Then he’d sat in his office in the dark, trying to decide what to do about the Baltree Heights project. In the end, he’d decided to tell Diana his part in it and hope she’d understand.

  “I hope I didn’t miss anything good,” Marcus said with an apologetic smile. He had texted both Seven and Bailey to let them know he was running late.

  “You’re actually right on time,” Bailey said. She looped her arm through his and tugged him down the wide hallway into the heart of the large space.

  The couple had sold the condos they owned separately to buy something bigger for the two of them. The two-bedroom, two-bath Brickell Key penthouse was ready-made for a possible expansion of their family, although Seven kept telling Marcus that they weren’t ready for a child yet.

  Although the building was all modern blue glass soaring toward the sky, the interior of their apartment was cozy and almost old-fashioned, with heavy cherrywood furniture, lush rugs underfoot and accent walls in warm shades of pumpkin and wine. The largest wall in the living room was a tall sheet of glass that afforded a stunning view of the city, turquoise water rippling under the setting sun, the bridges and boats floating on the bay.

  Marcus counted at least six people gathered in the sitting room, all looking elegant and casual in their designer clothes. He recognized at least a couple of them, even caught a brief glimpse of a slender back that looked familiar.

  “How can I be right on time if it started at seven?” Marcus asked Bailey, already knowing the answer. “It’s eight o’clock.” He teased her with his smile.

  “That’s because we always tell you to come an hour earlier than everyone else.” Seven walked out of the small gathering to shake Marcus’s hand, a smile at the ready. His accented voice rose above the gracious rabble coming from his guests.

  The Jamaican artist was the picture of success. Marcus hadn’t seen him and Bailey much since their honeymoon a few months back, but he looked prosperous and happy, a successful artist in his leather loafers, designer jeans and white button-down shirt.

  “Am I that predictable?” Marcus asked.

  “Sometimes,” Bailey said with a light squeeze of his arm. She took the wine from him, a bottle of 2008 Colgin Napa Valley Red that he knew she liked, and disappeared toward the kitchen.

  “Glad you could make it,” Seven said, slapping him on the back. “It’s been a while since you’ve been around.”

  “I’ve been around, you just don’t see me.” Marcus gestured to the elegantly fluttering Bailey. “You’ve been blinded by love.”

  Seven chuckled. “There are definitely worse things,” he said.

  “True.”

  “What?” Seven looked surprised. “You’re not going to make fun of me f
or not having a harem?”

  “The time for that is past, my friend.”

  Seven looked at him, a curious expression on his face. “What have you been up to lately?”

  Marcus shrugged dismissively. “The same old thing,” he said. He slapped Seven’s back. “Come introduce me around before everybody accuses me of being rude.”

  “As if you’d care what they think.” Seven laughed.

  But he drew Marcus toward the living room, where all his guests were gathered. It was a motley collection of people—men and women mostly in their thirties, all with glasses of something or other in their hands, most of them swaying to the music pouring from the speakers, Dennis Brown singing about milk and honey.

  Other guests included Bette, Bailey’s troublemaker of a sister who he’d gotten along with the instant they’d met. He shook hands and kissed cheeks, repeating each name as it was told to him. He was exchanging meaningless pleasantries with one of the guests, a slender woman with a beautiful dandelion of an afro, when the doorbell rang. Seven left him to see who it was.

  The woman with the fro, Alyx, looked him over from head to loafers with intent brown eyes. “You’re not Marcus Stanfield, the owner of the Dirty Diana, are you?” Her voice was low and husky, a surprisingly sensual rumble from one so small and so old. She had to be at least sixty.

  His brow quirked up at the mention of his boat. “Yes, I am.”

  “That is one of the most beautiful vessels I’ve ever seen,” she said. “I had the privilege of being aboard her for the Tour of Boats fund-raiser last year.”

  “Ah.” Marcus smiled. “Thank you. And thank you for supporting the fund-raiser.”

  “My pleasure. The young people’s charity is one I always make sure to give to every year.” The woman smiled up at Marcus. “You know, I—” Her words dropped off as she stared over Marcus’s shoulder.

  He turned in time to see Seven and Bailey walk into the living room with a woman between them. His breath stopped. Diana.

  Some emotion he couldn’t identify came and went across her face when she saw him. Surprise? Panic? Disappointment?

  Then his friends were bringing her deeper into the room to introduce her to everyone. She was gracious, apologetic for being a little late, moving through the room with the grace of a gazelle, the beauty glowing from her face and unforgettable body.

  Bailey and Seven soon made their way to where Marcus and Alyx were standing.

  “Diana, Marcus, Alyx.” Bailey gestured to each of them in turn. “Now you know each other.” Bailey smiled as she turned to Diana. “Marcus is one of our dearest friends,” she said. “And Seven and I met Alyx while we were in Brazil last year.”

  From the look on her face, Marcus assumed Diana didn’t want to tell Bailey that they knew each other. If she wanted to keep that secret, he would allow her to. He offered his hand for her to shake, saying nothing.

  “Actually, Marcus and I have already met,” Diana said with her slight smile, the corners of her full mouth tucking up so faintly it was hard to tell. “He and I attended a charity event together a few weeks ago.”

  “What a small world!” Bailey said with a pleased smile.

  Marcus could only agree. He had no idea Diana knew Seven and Bailey.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Diana took the hand he offered. He drew her close, kissed her cheek and inhaled the scent of her perfume. She melted into him for a moment, warm silk, then, as if suddenly aware of where she was, she stiffened and drew away.

  “It’s good to see you again,” he said.

  “Yes,” she murmured.

  Marcus thought he felt Bailey’s curious eyes on them but then dismissed it as his imagination.

  A few minutes later, Seven announced that dinner was served and urged his guests toward the dining room. Over grilled lobster, vegetable skewers and garlic au gratin potatoes, they shared conversation and laughter. Around the table, Marcus made sure to learn their names. Alyx, the painter. Kisha, the makeup artist and good friend of Bailey’s sister. Clive, Kisha’s husband. The unforgettable Bette. And, of course, Diana.

  He watched her in what he hoped was a subtle way, finding it remarkable that he should run into her at Seven and Bailey’s place. Clive had just finished telling a story about a Harvard woman both he and his bisexual wife had dated when Marcus jumped in with the question he’d had on his mind since Diana had walked into the room.

  “So, how do you two know Diana?” he asked his friends.

  Bailey looked at Marcus with that odd light of curiosity in her eyes again.

  “One of my clients recommended her organization as a good charity to donate to,” she said. “I went down to Building Bridges to see what they were about for myself and just about fell in love with Diana.” Her eyes flickered as she looked between Marcus and Diana. “Isn’t she lovely?”

  “Very,” he agreed. “And so are you, Bailey. You know, the world isn’t as bad as they say when good people find each other.”

  “You getting soft in your old age, Marcus?” Seven glanced at him as he handed his empty plate to the maid he’d hired for the evening. “I’ve never heard you say something like this before.”

  “Maybe I’m just growing up,” Marcus said with a grin.

  Seven laughed. “I suppose stranger things have happened.”

  The maid served dessert—banana ice cream over two fingers of biscotti in leaf-shaped bowls—while the conversation continued. Marcus was, of course, more interested in watching Diana than in anything the others had to say.

  She was sitting across and two chairs away from him. But he was as aware of her as if she sat on his lap. His thigh muscles twitched at the thought of her that close to him.

  He drew in a silent breath. Across the table, she appeared to be consciously trying not to look at him. She ate her ice cream delicately, and he watched.

  Diana licked the pale cream from her lips, and he shifted in his seat. She stretched her arm to reach for another biscotti from the bowl in the middle of the table, and he ached for her to grasp him in just that way. He noticed the way her dress stretched across her chest, her side and the carnal curve of her ribs.

  As soon as it was feasible, he left the table to go to the bathroom before he embarrassed himself. He locked the door behind him and bent over the sink.

  Although he had no idea why she pulled away from him, he was willing to do anything to redeem himself and get her back into his bed. Or at least in a bed for the first time, where he could make love to her properly. Kiss her entire body at his leisure. Swallow her moans with his mouth as he rolled his hips against hers.

  Marcus washed his face and hands, waiting for his body’s desire to cool. He passed a quick hand down the front of his pants and stepped out of the bathroom, right into Diana.

  “Excuse me.” He grabbed her arms to steady her.

  Panic flashed in her eyes. Her body stiffened against his touch, and she backed away from him with a breathless sound. He closed the bathroom door behind him, the hunter’s instinct in him jerked to life with her recoil. The scent of her was strong. Feminine and warm.

  “Diana…”

  A low sigh escaped her. Dreamlike, her slenderness in the hallway. Her soft mouth that he wanted to kiss. Marcus swallowed hard as desire beat a heavy drum low in his belly. The voices that came at him from down the hall meant nothing. They were only background noise to the want thundering through his body, alive and primal.

  “I missed you.” The words fell from her lips like a surprise. She frowned, as if she hadn’t meant to say them.

  She bit her lip. White teeth sinking into the erotic pink of her mouth. The sound of her breath. His blood drumming. Desire and want were all he knew in that moment. He said her name again, and she took a step toward him, hesitant. Then another.

  Marcus reached out and pulled her the last few inches to him, tugged her fully against him. She lifted her mouth to meet his. Wet lips. Hot tongue.

  Her fingers sank into the back
of his neck as their mouths deepened their connection. Tongues slid together, and soft noises came from her throat. Marcus reached behind him, grabbed the handle of the bathroom door, shoved it open and moved backward into the small room.

  He tugged her in with him and closed the door.

  Chapter 14

  Diana was drowning. The pleasure pressed her against Marcus, making her quiver and move her body urgently against his. She swore she hadn’t come for this.

  She hadn’t.

  She’d watched him leave the table and head toward the bathroom with a kind of relief. The evening had been sweet torture as he sat across the table from her, eating his food and watching her with a man’s hunger.

  He hadn’t been subtle at all. She felt her hosts watching Marcus as he watched her. Noticed their curious expressions after she admitted that they already knew each other. Since that morning he’d dropped her off at home, she’d wanted to call him but couldn’t. The thought of her family’s disapproval and anger held her prisoner each time she picked up the phone.

  The days had been agony.

  It was fine before she knew his touch, that quiet conflagration he built beneath her skin with his clever hands and hot mouth. But now she knew. And now she couldn’t stop wanting him, even as everyone told her how much of a bad idea it was.

  But she was tired of doing what everyone wanted. She’d given up going to college in Spain so she could stay at home and take care of her mother and her younger siblings. She had gotten a job right out of college instead of grabbing her backpack and seeing the world like so many of her more privileged classmates had. Her life after her father’s suicide had been nothing but sacrifice and soul-deep hunger. And although being with Marcus did not nullify any of that, he was something she wanted and felt that she had to deny herself because of her family.