Show & Tell (4 page)

“So,” Knox said as he returned from admiring the bath. “Which side of the bed do you want?”

Savannah blinked, forced a wry smile. “I think the question is which part of the floor do you want?”

Knox glanced at the gleaming hardwood and absently scratched his temple. He wore an endearing smile. “Do I have a prayer of winning this argument?”

“No.” Savannah hated to be such a prude, but having to sleep next to him would be sheer and utter torture. Simply being in the same room with him would be agonizing enough. Savannah grimly sus
pected that were they to share that bed, she'd inexplicably gravitate toward him. Toward his marvelous ass. Considering he didn't reciprocate this unholy attraction, she wasn't about to risk embarrassing herself and him.

He sighed. “As the lady wishes. I suppose we should head to the common room for the Welcome Brunch.”

Savannah nodded. Without further comment, the two of them exited the room and, with Knox's hand at her elbow, they made their way down a long wide hall back to the foyer and then into what had been dubbed the common room. A long table piled with food sat off to the side of the enormous room and little sofas and armchairs were grouped together to encourage idle chitchat. Savannah's stomach issued a hungry growl, propelling her toward the food.

“Hungry, are you?” Knox queried.

“Ravenous.”

“I offered to share my peanuts with you,” he reminded teasingly.

Savannah grunted. “I wasn't about to partake of your ill-gotten gains.”

Knox chuckled, a deep silky baritone that made her very insides quiver. Jeez, the man had cornered the market when it came to sex appeal. It was the same sort of intimate laugh she assumed he'd share with a lover. Something warm and quivery snaked through her at the thought.

“I simply flirted a little, Savannah. It's not like I
raped and pillaged. Honestly, have you not ever batted your lashes and tried to get out of a speeding ticket?”

“No,” she lied as she selected a wedge of cheese and a few crackers.

He chuckled again. “Liar.”

“That's different,” she said simply for the sake of disagreeing with him, which she did a lot. “And it's Barbie, you idiot. Do you want to blow our cover from the get-go?”

“Whatever.” He paused. “Oh, look, our host and hostess have arrived.”

Savannah turned and her gaze landed on an older couple—early to middle fifties, she guessed. Bare feet peeked from beneath the hems of their long white robes. The woman wore her completely silver hair in a long flowing style that slithered over her shoulders and stopped at the small of her back. Silver charms glittered from her wrists and a large, smooth lavender stone lay suspended between her breasts via a worn leather cord. This woman seemed to embody everything their glossy pamphlet proclaimed. Serenity, harmony and all those other adverbs that had been touted in the trendy brochure.

As for the man, a calm strength seemed to hover about him as well. He appeared relaxed yet confident, as though he was the only stud for his mare. A niggle of doubt surfaced as Savannah studied the two. Could the art of tantric sex really be all this couple claimed it was? Quite honestly, it seemed impossible
to Savannah, but for the first time since she'd accepted that she'd be working on this story with Knox, Savannah wondered if she'd been too hasty in forming her opinions.

The man smiled. “Welcome. I'm Dr. Edgar Shea and this is my lovely wife and life partner, Dr. Rupali Shea. We're so glad that you're here.” He paused. “Some of you are here as a result of frustration, some of you are here as a result of your partner's prodding, and some of you are here because you're simply curious.” His grin made an encore appearance. “Regardless of why you are here, we're exceedingly glad and are looking forward to teaching you everything we've learned about the art of tantric lovemaking. What we will teach you, what we'll freely share and will graphically demonstrate for your benefit, will change your lives…if you are open to the possibilities.”

“At the beginning of each session,” Rupali began, “we like to do a little preliminary test, to see for ourselves just how much ground we need to cover, to see which couples will require one-on-one instruction.” She paused and smiled to the room at large. “Now don't look frightened. It's a simple test. But first we'll introduce ourselves and share our inadequacies. No embarrassment, no boundaries,” she said. “Only truth healing.”

Savannah and Knox shared a look of dread. She almost felt sorry for him, but quickly squelched the sentiment. This was a hell of his own making. He
could burn with humiliation for all she cared. The couples around them looked as miserable as she and Knox and that made Savannah feel marginally better. As she listened, one man admitted chronic masturbation as his problem. There were a couple of other women delegated to the frigid-and-couldn't-reach-climax list, and even more men who embarrassingly mumbled impotency as their major handicap.

Rupali beamed at them when they were finished. “Now, for the test.” She paused again, garnering everyone's attention with the heavy silence. She steepled her fingers beneath her chin. “Do any of you know what the most intimate act between lovers is?” she asked. “I'm sure that all of you are thinking about intercourse, or possibly oral sex…but you'd be wrong. It's kissing. Kissing requires more intimacy than any other facet of lovemaking. And that will be your test. You will embrace your partner and kiss, and Edgar and I will observe.” She beamed at them. “See, that's easy enough.”

Savannah heard several audible sighs resonate around the room, but hers and Knox's weren't among them. Kissing? Kiss Knox? In front of all these people? Right now? Knox seemed to be equally astounded, as he wore a frozen smile on his face. Panic ping-ponged through her abdomen, the blood rushed to her ears and every bit of moisture evaporated from Savannah's mouth.

Knox drew her to him, anchored his powerful arms about her back and waist. Longing ignited a fire of
need in her belly. “Quit looking like she's just issued a death sentence,” he hissed through a brittle smile. “We're supposed to be married, remember?”

Savannah made the mistake of looking up into his dark green eyes and felt need balloon below her belly button. An involuntary shiver danced up her spine and camped at her nape. Oh, hell. She was doomed. “Right,” she said breathlessly.

“It's just a kiss,” he said unsteadily. “We can handle it.”

“On my count,” Rupali trilled. “Three, two, one…kiss!”

With equal parts anticipation and anxiety, Savannah's eyes fluttered shut as Knox's warm lips descended to hers. The exquisite feel of his lips slanting over hers instantly overwhelmed her and she swallowed a deep sigh of satisfaction as his taste exploded on her tongue. He tasted like soda and peanuts and the faint flavor of salt clung to his lips.
And oh, mercy, could he kiss.
Savannah whimpered.

His kiss was firm yet soft and he suckled and fed at her mouth until Savannah's legs would scarcely support her. Oh, how many times had she dreamed of this? How many times had she imagined his mouth hungrily feeding at hers, his built-like-a-brick-wall body wrapped around hers? With a groan of pure delight, she pressed herself even more firmly against him and felt her nipples tingle and pearl. A similar experience commenced between her thighs as her feminine muscles dewed and tightened. Their
tongues played a game of seek and retreat, and for every parlay, Savannah grew even more agitated, more needy. Knox tightened his hold around her, and she felt his hand slide from the small of her back and cup her bottom. Another blast of desire detonated, sending a bright flash of warmth zinging through her blood.

From the dimmest recesses of her mind, Savannah realized that the room had grown ominously quiet. She reluctantly dragged her lips away from Knox's and laid her head against his rapidly rising chest.

Edgar and Rupali Shea grinned broadly at them. Their eyes twinkled knowingly. “Clearly Knox and Barbie have passed our little test with glowing marks and no one-on-one instruction will be required.”

A titter of amusement resonated around the room.

Savannah's cheeked blazed and it took every ounce of willpower not to melt out of Knox's embrace. She extricated herself with as much dignity as she could muster, considering she'd all but lashed her legs about his waist and begged him to pump her amid a room of confessed sexually challenged spectators.

She was pathetic. Utterly and completely pathetic. How on earth would she keep her attraction for him secret now? How? she mentally wailed.

Deciding the best defense was a better offense, Savannah leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “How about a little less tongue next time, Slick? I don't know what you were looking for back there,
but I had my tonsils removed years ago.” She patted his arm and calmly moved to pick up her plate.

Knox's dumbfounded expression was unequivocally priceless, igniting a glow of another sort.

A
LITTLE LESS TONGUE
?
Knox wondered angrily. To his near slack-jawed astonishment, he'd never enjoyed kissing another woman more. He'd been so caught up in the melding of their mouths that all he could think about was how amazingly great she tasted, how wonderful her lips felt against his, and how much he longed to have her naked and flat on her back…

It was too much to contemplate. This was Savannah.

Savannah.

Admittedly, he'd always thought her gorgeous. The first time he'd met her, he'd felt the familiar tug of attraction. But then she'd blasted him with a frigid blue stare and she'd opened her sarcastic mouth, and he'd never entertained another amorous thought about her. That's why he'd chosen her for this trip, dammit, and yet the moment his lips had met hers he'd gone into a molecular meltdown. He'd wanted to show her how hot she made him, tell her how much he wanted her and…

And seconds after that mind-blowing kiss, Savan
nah had calmly offered criticism and then just as calmly returned to her lunch.

Knox was unequivocally stunned.

He'd been too bowled over by the impact of that kiss to even regulate his breathing, much less pretend that he hadn't been affected…and she'd not only been unaffected, but apparently had been so unmoved by the experience that she'd been able to remain detached and offer advice.

Heat spreading up his neck, Knox loaded his own plate from the buffet and inwardly fumed. He'd always considered himself an attentive lover, had always prided himself on learning what techniques turned a woman on, what would give her pleasure. He liked a vocal partner, one who didn't expect him to be a mind reader. He liked hearing what made a woman hot and enjoyed doing it for her even more. Throughout his career in the bedroom, he'd heard countless breathy pleas—
harder, faster, there
and
there,
and
almost
and
oh, God, there! Touch, suck, lick
and
nibble,
even
spank,
he'd heard it all.

But never—
never
—had he ever had a woman criticize his kiss.

His kiss had always been above reproach, with no room for improvement. Though most men considered kissing as a simple means to an end—Knox included, most of the time—he'd nonetheless made it a point to excel at that particular form of foreplay.

Ask any man and he'd tell you that, given the choice of having his tongue in a woman's mouth, or
his hand in her panties, the panties would win hands down every time. That was the ultimate goal, after all, and men were linear thinkers. Point A to point B in the most economical fashion.

Sure they might get distracted by a creamy breast and pouty nipple, might even linger around a delightful belly button for a few seconds, but settling oneself firmly between a woman's thighs was always, without question, the ultimate goal.

While kissing Savannah a few moments ago—though the kiss couldn't have lasted more than thirty seconds—Knox's thoughts had immediately leaped ahead to the grand finale. He'd already imagined plunging dick first into the tight, wet heat of her body. Had been anticipating her own phenomenally cataclysmic release as well as his.

While she'd been critiquing his kiss.

Knox had never anticipated being attracted to her and had known that she wasn't attracted to him, had chosen her for that particular reason. But having the knowledge confirmed in such a humiliating fashion wasn't an easy pill to swallow. Particularly since he'd all but devoured her and had made such a horny ass out of himself. Jesus. After that lusty display, there couldn't be one shred of doubt in her mind about how he'd reacted to her. How hot he'd been for her.

All due to a simple kiss she hadn't even enjoyed.

Simmering with indignation once more, Knox cast a sidelong glance at the object of his present irrita
tion. Savannah's cheeks were a little pink—obviously embarrassed by his zealous response to their “test”—but aside from that, she appeared completely composed. She absently nibbled a cracker, her perceptive gaze roaming around the room people-watching, presumably looking for fodder for their story.

Which was exactly what he should be doing, Knox realized with an angry start. He mentally snorted. Undoubtedly she was already forming an angle, had already thought of an intro to their piece. Well, he'd have the most input, thank you very much. This story had been his brainchild, and if there had been any way he could have done it without her, he would have. And he wished he could have. They'd scarcely begun this damned workshop and already he'd become too distracted by the supposedly
undistracting
female he'd brought with him.

How screwed up was that?

“I hope you don't plan to pout the entire afternoon,” Savannah said with a sardonic smile. “Honestly, Knox, it was only a small criticism. Surely that enormous ego of yours can take one minor unflattering assessment.”

Ignoring a surge of irritation, Knox mentally counted to three, then arranged his face into its typically amiable expression. “Pout?”

Her eyes narrowed, clearly seeing through his innocent look. “Yes, pout. You've been glowering at the room at large for the past five minutes. Jeez, I
didn't mean to hurt your feelings.” She neatly bit the end off a stalk of celery. Her lips twitched. “Frankly, I wasn't aware that you had any.”

Ah…back to familiar ground. Knox forced a smile, affected a negligent shrug, though he longed to wrap his hands around her throat and throttle her. He'd learned to appreciate her acidic sarcasm, but right now he wasn't in the proper humor to applaud her clever witticisms. He ignored her last comment and decided a change of subject was in order.

“So, what's your initial impression of the Sheas?” Knox asked.

Savannah winced, wiped a bit of salad dressing from the corner of her luscious lips. “They're what I expected…but then again they're not.” She paused consideringly. “I don't know. It'll take more than a welcome speech for me to make an accurate assessment.”

“I didn't ask for an accurate assessment. I asked for an initial impression.”

“There's a difference?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“What is it?”

She had to be the most infuriating female he'd ever met. “Stop being difficult and answer the question.”

Seemingly resigned, Savannah blew out a breath. “They were impressive, Knox,” she admitted reluctantly. “If I was like these people, desperately looking for a way to better my relationship with a sig
nificant other, my husband, or simply needing a little show-and-tell to jump-start my sex life, I'd like them. They seemed genuine.”

Secretly he agreed. Hokey togas aside, the Sheas seemed to share some secret something. Something the rest of the room lacked, or wasn't privy to. Still…“‘Seemed' is the key word.”

“I know.” Savannah discarded her empty plate and dusted her hands. “So what's next on the agenda?”

Knox stacked his empty plate on top of hers. “We pick up our registration packets.”

She nodded. “Then let's do it. I want a chance to go over everything before our first class starts.”

Still feeling a little put out, Knox followed Savannah from the large common room and into the hall where the registration table had been set up. Several couples had been equally eager to start and Knox recognized the one in front of them with a little wince of dread—the masturbator and his wife.

Savannah's steps slowed. “Is that who I think—”

“Yes, it is,” Knox hissed through a false smile as the couple in question turned with bright grins to greet them.

“Hi,” the wife enthused. “Knox and Barbie, right? We're the Cummings. I'm Marge and this is my husband, Chuck.” With a roll of her eyes, she jabbed her husband in the side. “Jeez, Chuck, where are your manners? Shake Knox's hand.”

Knox felt his frozen smile falter and his gaze
dropped to Chuck's outstretched hand with a paralyzing dread.

Beside him, Savannah covered her mouth with her hand and quickly morphed a chuckle into a convincing cough. He'd kill her when this was over with, Knox decided. He'd simply wring her neck.

The silence lengthened past the comfortable and Knox was resignedly readying his hand for the shake when Marge chirped “Gotcha!” amid a stream of high-pitched staccato laughter. The laugh went on and on and had the effect of fingernails on a chalk-board.

Chuck, too, was caught up in a fit of hilarity. His beefy face turned beet-red and, wheezing laughter, he pointed at Knox. “Man, if you could have seen your face! Oh, Marge, that was priceless. Utterly priceless. The best one yet.”

Marge's laughter tittered out and she wiped her streaming eyes. “It's a little joke we like to pull,” she confided, as though this whole scene was perfectly normal. “Everyone knows Chuck's a chronic masturbator—hell, I had to pry his hand away from his groin during your kiss a little while ago—so no one ever wants to shake his hand.
Ever,
” she added meaningfully. “I mean, who would, knowing where it's been, right?” She and Chuck shared a secret smile. “So we like to pull a little prank with it. We've gotten a variety of reactions, but yours was by far the best we've seen in a long time. You looked
like he'd whipped out his poor overworked penis and asked you to shake it.”

Marge and Chuck dissolved into fits of whooping laughter once more.

Savannah, of course, was observing the whole scenario as he would expect—tickled to death at his expense. Her pale blue eyes glittered with barely restrained laughter. Knox could tell she was on the verge of pulling a Marge and he cast her one long, pointed look to dissuade her. Hadn't she ever heard of loyalty? She was supposed to be his wife, dammit, and should be outraged on his behalf. Not quivering with amusement over his immense discomfort.

Knox decided this was the point where he was supposed to laugh and managed to push a weak little ha-ha from his throat. It was exceedingly difficult, considering he longed to plant his fist through a wall. Or possibly Chuck's face.

“FYI, he's left-handed,” Marge shared with another maddening little smile. “You could have shaken it without a thing to worry about.”

Knox forced his lips into a smile. Thankfully, Marge and Chuck's turn at the registration table came, sparing him a reply.

“Well,” Savannah whispered through her curling lips, “that was certainly interesting.”

Knox felt a muscle jump in his jaw. “You think?”

“Funny, too.”

“I'm glad you were amused,” Knox ground out.

“Marge was right,” she went on to his supreme
annoyance. She rocked back on her heels. “The look on your face
was
priceless. I wish I'd had a camera.”

Knox smirked. “You're really enjoying this, aren't you, Savannah?”

She aimed a smugly beautiful smile in his direction, clasped her hands behind her back and batted her lashes shamelessly. “Yes. Yes, I am.” She sighed. “After what you pulled with Chapman, can you really blame me?”

Knox exhaled wearily. He supposed not, and reluctantly admitted as much. “Still,” he told her. “Gloating does not become you. Enough already, Savannah. We've got a job to do,” he reminded her pointedly, as much for his own benefit as hers. Focus, Knox told himself. The big picture. He needed to push the kiss and the masturbator encounter out of his mind and keep the ultimate goal in sight—the story.

“I know that,” she snapped, clearly perturbed at the reminder. “Believe me, that's the only reason I'm here—for the story. Let's just register and go back to our room. I want to prepare for this class.” She chuckled darkly. “And let's pray there aren't any more surprise tests.”

Damn right, Knox thought. At the moment, he wasn't up for another failing grade from “Barbie.”

 

A
S SOON AS THEY RETURNED
to their room, Savannah made a beeline for the bathroom. She needed a few moments alone—just a few precious seconds away
from Knox's distracting company to regroup and pull herself together. Once behind the closed door, she blew out a pent-up breath, then ran the tap and splashed cold water on her face. It felt cool and refreshing and helped alleviate some of the tension tightening her neck and shoulders.

Her muscles had atrophied with stress after The Kiss.

Sure, she'd managed to put on a good enough show, had forced herself to appear cool and unaffected when the truth of the matter had been that Knox's kiss had all but melted her bones. When his talented mouth had touched hers…

Mercy.

Remembered heat sent a coil of longing swirling through the pit of her belly. Her nipples tightened and a familiar but woefully missed warmth weighted her core.

She'd known—hadn't she?—that he would be utterly amazing. Her every instinct had told her so, just as every instinct had warned her against him. She'd managed to undermine his self-confidence this time, managed to miraculously pull off a grand performance, but he'd undoubtedly see through her if anything like that happened between them again.

Though she hadn't yet had a chance to go through the curriculum, Savannah nonetheless knew that the kiss was just the beginning of what the workshop would entail. She and Knox would be called upon to
do much more than kiss. The success of the Sheas' workshop depended upon it.

She wished that she and Knox could keep up the ruse without having to participate physically in class, and the wishing, she knew, was an act of futility. They would have to participate to some extent in class, otherwise they'd call attention to themselves, or, worse still, would lead the Sheas to believe they needed more intensive therapy.

Savannah shuddered. Neither scenario inspired confidence.