A MAN CALLED BLUE (20 page)

"Definitely unpaid." She smiled, grateful when he grinned and cocked his head, grateful for the ease that came with it.

"Good, because—" he swept her up in his arms and carried her easily to her bed "—I'm a man who loves his work." He put her on the bed and leaned over her, holding her hands high on either side of her head. "And because—" He breathed deep. "I love you so damn much I'd probably work in a coal mine twenty hours a day if you asked me."

Blue appeared as taken aback at speaking the words as she was to hear them. They stared mutely at each other.

He cursed under his breath, kissed her softly, then straightened to sit on the edge of the bed. Simone, too stunned to sit, lay where he'd left her. A moment ago, she'd thought it didn't matter if Blue loved her; she was so wrong. But how could she have known his loving her was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Her lips quivered to a cautious smile and she exhaled slowly. It was as though he'd planted a flower in her heart.

"The best laid plans—" he shook his head in obvious self-disgust "—have a way of going completely off track." Oblivious to his mangled metaphor, he turned his blue gaze on her, dark and unreadable. "I didn't plan on telling you like that, Simone."

She sat up. She'd never seen Blue discomfited. It was a new experience. Curiously, it warmed her heart. She touched his forearm. "How
did
you plan on telling me?"

"Flowers, champagne, dinner. Something memorable." He looked appealingly miserable, she decided.

She suppressed a smile, but it bounced to the surface, like rose oil in water. She coughed and covered her mouth with her hand. "I see," was about all she could manage.

At that, he gave her a sidelong glance, his gaze narrowing suspiciously. "You're not—" He stopped, but continued to study her.

"Not what?" she asked, all eyes and innocence.

"Arguing with me."

"Should I be?" She smoothed her nightgown.

He nodded his head slowly, consideringly. "Uh-huh, unless of course..."

"Yes?"

"You happen to be as crazy about me as I am about you?" He lifted one brow and waited. Simone could see him firm his mouth, struggle to quell his natural grin.

"Have I ever told you how arrogant you are?" she asked.

He nodded.

"And that you're too damn sure of yourself?"

He nodded again, then turned abruptly to pin her to the bed. His fingers interlocked with hers and their joined fists were high above Simone's head. He smiled. "Now, tell me something I
don't
know."

Their gazes locked and Simone stilled under him, suddenly feeling vulnerable and solemn. "I love you, Blue, but—"

"Later with the buts," he murmured against her mouth before he kissed her and kissed her and kissed her. She knew what he was doing and let him, happily willing to let his tongue, his achingly powerful kisses, sweep her "buts" and reservations aside.

In seconds it was impossible to focus on anything except Blue, let alone a protest. Rebellion was the last thing on her mind. She shuddered as Blue's thumb rubbed over her nipple, his touch raw heat. Simone's head fell back against the heavy satin duvet as he kissed her throat, his mouth nuzzling, softening the muscles there, before moving to her silk-covered breast. The silk added a taunting friction to his suckling. Simone stretched voluptuously, lifting herself to his mouth, his magic.

He raised his head, smiled, then bent it to again lick the damp silk clinging to her breast. She quivered and took his head in her hands, forcing it up so she could look in his eyes. He didn't resist her, seeming content to stroke any loose tendrils of hair back from her forehead. Blue was a smooth, unhurried lover, both supremely confident and delightfully brash.

"Did you mean it? Do you
truly
love me?" She knew she sounded childlike, annoyingly insecure, but she needed to hear him say it again, needed the words as foundation for her uneasy, but growing trust. For a moment, the idea of trusting Blue startled her. Scared her...

"Yes, I love you, Simone. I think I have since you threatened to toss me out of your plane without a chute." His deep smile drifted from his face, replaced by a sober intensity. "And I always will. I'm afraid you've hooked up with one of those one-woman-man types."

Simone's breath thickened in her throat, she couldn't speak, her eyes burned. "Oh, Blue," she finally managed, new tender feelings at war with old tenacious fear. She wanted to say more, but couldn't.

"It's okay, sweetheart. You don't have to say anything. We'll work it out—tomorrow." His voice sounded uneven, ragged. He kissed her softly and rested his hand over her breast, imprisoning her nipple loosely between two splayed fingers. He squeezed then and urged her knees apart with his thigh. She opened for him, and he settled his lower body to hers.

When his next words came they were labored, as was her own breathing. "For now—tonight—let's just love each other with everything we have."

She arched into him and put her hands under his shirt, running them impatiently up the indent made by his spine. His muscles were hard; he was hard, his erection straining against her as he used his elbows to keep his upper torso a safe but tantalizing distance from her breasts.

Her now feverish hands clutched his shoulders and pulled him down, greedy to feel his full weight and rigid sex pressed tight to her body. She bit his earlobe, and the heat of her own breath came back to warm her lips. She heard him groan, felt him tremble, triggering her own surge of passion.

"Everything we have, my darling," she promised in a broken, husky whisper. "Everything we have."

* * *

Blue woke to the muffled ring of the telephone coming from his room. At first he ignored it, preferring to indulge himself in the sensation of soft woman curved into his back and the memory of last night. Closing his eyes against the incessant ringing, he pulled Simone's hand to his chest and covered it with his. Then a thought struck him. This could be it. With careful haste he extricated himself from Simone's grip and stood. She grumbled an unintelligible protest before burrowing deeper into the pillow.

Ignoring the morning chill, and his nakedness, Blue strode through the door to his room. He picked up the cordless receiver.

"Uh-huh," he acknowledged the call while grabbing a pair of jeans from the chest at the foot of his bed. He grimaced. The damn things were not only freshly laundered, he noticed, but ironed to a full crease by the indomitable Marie. His morning condition would have appreciated more flexible denim. He tugged them on—carefully—while balancing the receiver precariously on one shoulder.

"Blue?"

"You got it." Blue straightened. It was Bill—the call he'd been waiting for.

"I was about to hang up. Took you long enough to get to the phone," Bill groused.

"Yeah, well... I was busy."

A chuckle came over the line. "Is it worth my while to ask with what?"

"No."

"Too bad." Another chuckle. "Okay, on to the dull stuff then. I may have what you need on your man Hallam. Is this a good time? It could take a while."

Blue smiled in grim satisfaction, settled himself on the bed, and stuffed a pillow behind his head. "This is the perfect time. Shoot."

"Okay, hold a minute, will you?"

Blue heard the rustle of papers coming through the phone. Unless he missed his guess, the paper was the proof he'd been looking for. Bill came back on the line.

"It goes something like this..."

* * *

A half hour later, Blue turned off the phone. His mood contemplative, he leaned his head back against the ornately carved headboard and stared vacantly at the canopy over his bed. He had what he wanted, what he'd expected—and it disgusted him. He shook his head. There were far too many Gus Hallams in the world, he decided. Greedy untrustworthy bastards, all slithering around stuffing their pockets at anyone's expense and vicious as hell in the process.

Snakes, every one of them, and damn mean when they were cornered. Hallam was definitely cornered, but if this particular snake thought he was going to bite the woman Blue loved, he was in for a surprise.

And the woman who loved him back.

At that thought, he warmed from the inside out, and padded barefoot to the still open door between his and Simone's rooms. When he got there, he heard her shower come on. He glanced at the clock. Almost seven. It wouldn't be long before Marie arrived with coffee.

He did a quick time calculation and took in the open door to Simone's bathroom. He read
that
as an invitation. Hell, there was lots of time for what he had in mind. He took his first step just as her voice came from the shower, half-muffled by the running water.

"If you don't get in here pronto, Mr. Bludell, Marie's eyebrows will be permanently raised—and we'll be drinking cold coffee for the balance of our time in London. Unless, of course, you're not up to it."

He shucked off the stiff jeans.

In three seconds he'd be in that shower showing her exactly what he was up to—and telling her again how much he loved her. This time in the clear, honest light of morning.

* * *

"We've got to talk," Blue said. Dressed, he sat on Simone's bed watching her slip a blouse over her creamy shoulders. Her back was to him. At the sound of his voice, she turned to him, smiled, and started to do up the buttons. Blue's attention strayed. He was mesmerized by the deft movement of her fingers, the contrast of her coral polish against the dark green silk—and the slow veiling of the skin he'd spent all night and the better part of this morning exploring.

"Blue?" She gave him a curious look and stopped buttoning.

He lifted his eyes to hers and managed not to clear his throat as if he were a dazzled adolescent. "I think I've got what we need on Hallam."

"The call this morning?"She gave him her full attention.

He nodded, got up, and went to refill his and her coffee cups. When Simone sat in one of the chairs under the window, he joined her, taking the one opposite."He's been screwing around with his employees' pension fund. Through a combination of graft and bad management, the fund is seriously depleted. A few years ago, he
borrowed
from it—heavily—along with investing in too many highly speculative, high-risk stocks." Blue stood and started to pace. "The gist of it is the fund is grossly overstated on the books. Some of the stocks are completely worthless."

Simone slowly sipped her coffee, her expression deeply thoughtful. "And the shoe is about to drop," she said, lifting her gaze to his.

"According to my source, a reporter has been sniffing around Hallam's operations for months."

"So, Hallam would dearly love to distance himself from the whole mess by selling to Anjana," she added.

"Exactly, but he won't. Not completely. He may wiggle away from blame for the bad investments, but he's going to have a hell of time justifying his
borrowing.
The law's clear on that, but no doubt with a boxcar of promises, he can avoid paying until God knows when. The thing is Anjana will—for good faith—have to make good on the pension shortfall. They'll be your employees, your responsibility. It's not a small amount, Simone." Blue leaned against the mantel and crossed his arms. "There's something else."

Simone rolled her eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Three major customers—representing a good twenty-five percent of Hallam's revenue—did not renew their contracts."

"How did you find
that
out?"

"The mysterious Richard Cranway. Turns out, he's a good guy. Been covering for Hallam for two years, based on Hallam's promise he'd replenish the fund and make things right. It didn't happen of course, and when Hallam asked him to falsify a couple of sales contracts, he split. Went to Spain to try and figure out his next move."

"And you found him."

"My source did. By the way, his name is Bill Steeves, and I asked him to come by this morning and fill you in personally. I thought you'd like to see the proof for yourself."

Simone rubbed her forehead and let out a breath. "I never expected something this... criminal. To think Anjana almost—" She walked to the window, stared out silently for a moment, then turned back to him. "Thank you, Blue," she said simply.

He walked toward her and took her hands in his. "No thanks necessary. You would have found out sooner or later. The thing to remember is your instincts were right from the beginning. I'd say that should make you feel damn good."

"He shouldn't get away with it."

"No, he shouldn't, but he probably will." Hallam's kind usually did. The blows of justice tended to glance off armor cast from money and power.

Simone's brow furrowed as though she pondered a complex puzzle. He pulled her close and locked her hands behind his back. "Hey, it's done. Forget it."

"I have to call Hallam."

"Later." He brushed his lips over her mouth. She kissed him then, long and lingeringly.

"You're a bad influence," she whispered.

"Thank God for that," he muttered against her mouth.

She brought her hands to his chest and pushed gently. "But I am going to resist you. Josephine is due back today and I intend to deal with Hallam
before
she gets here." She pushed again. "What time is Bill Steeves coming?"