Voyeur (24 page)

said, "Tel you what, snowflake. Tommy has a couple of new computer games he wants me to try out, so I'm going to head up to his place for awhile and let you work—and think. I'l set out some steaks to thaw before I go, and I'l bring Tommy back with me for dinner around seven. You can let me

know your decision then."

She blinked, then sat up, a bit taken aback. He'd stopped pressuring her, persuading her, was truly putting it into
her
hands, letting
her
decide. "Urn

. . . how wil I let you know?"

He cast the sexy grin she'd grown used to. "Oh, I'm sure you'l find a way."

Braden puttered around the house a bit before leaving, and Laura tried to write—but who could write now? She sat at the computer, staring out at

the peaceful winter setting, trying to let it calm her—but her emotions ran wild.

The truth was, no answer seemed the right one.

Did she want this? Braden and Tommy, both of them, touching her, fucking her?

God help her—yes, she did. Her every nerve ending turned inside out just thinking about it. And God knew that the deeper she sank into this affair

with Braden, the more she wanted to please him, the more she wanted to keep showing him she could be the exciting woman he wanted her to be.

And yet. .. this was a big line to cross, at least in her mind. Even Monica hadn't been with two guys at once. And what if five years down the road

she met Mr. Right and felt compel ed to tel him she'd done this and it made him think badly of her? No, Braden was wrong—once you did

something, you couldn’t take it back.

Of course, if it were a guy like Braden, she'd have no worries. She'd felt the need to ask, but had total y believed him when he'd promised he

wouldn't think of her differently. She
knew
that about him now somehow—knew that he sincerely liked her, utterly respected her, no matter what.

Maybe only a guy like that should qualify as a Mr. Right.

She let out a sigh. She had a feeling guys like Braden—truly free and forward thinking, truly into the deeper, more intense sorts of pleasures he

wanted to bring her—were few and far between. Most men, deny it though they might, stil lived by a double standard—they would probably think it

was A-okay if
they
indulged in a threesome but wouldn't want to marry a woman who admitted the same.

Just then, her lover came trotting back down the stairs. "I'm taking off," he told her, approaching from behind, then squeezing her shoulder as he bent to lower a kiss to her neck.

She looked up at him. "Have you ever done anything like that before?"

"A three-way?"

She nodded.

She thought he almost looked a little sheepish as he said, "No," shaking his head lightly. And in al honesty, she was surprised, had been almost certain he'd had a long history of multiple partners.

"Then why do you seem so sure about it, so positive you want it?"

"I don't shy away from my desires, Laura, never have. I just never wanted this before. But now I do. With you."

Her stomach churned. He wanted to experience something with her that he'd never wanted with another woman. It seemed like ... an opportunity to

be special to him, to give him what he'd given her so many of: a memory of something new to take with him when this was over.

As he walked to the door, he paused to look over his shoulder. "Tommy has, though, just so you know."

“Oh?”

"He’s been with two women before. A couple of times."

She gave a slight nod. She'd just started thinking they were al virgins at this only to find out Tommy was not. "Snow bunnies gone wild?" she asked.

He grinned, his eyes softening. "Something like that."

Another nod on her part, then she spoke quietly. "I'm more than a snow bunny, you know."

He didn't hesitate. "I know that, snowflake. I know that very wel ."

With that, Braden threw on a rugged-looking brown jacket, and Laura listened as the door closed behind him, leaving the house in silence.

Whew.
She was stil trying to wrap her mind around his suggestion and the fact That she’d almost actual y agreed to it. Images stil floated in her head. The two men taking off her clothes, touching her at the same time. Her body, between theirs, being buffeted by masculinity from both sides.

And then, of course, the specific thing Braden had mentioned—two men equaled two cocks. At once. Her whole body tingled at trying to imagine

what that would feel like, or if she could even handle it physical y.

She stil didn't know if she could do it. And she had no idea what would help make up her mind. Part of her knew she simply
couldn’t
do anything so risqué. Yet another part of her knew she couldn't let Braden down, and That she couldn't pass up an invitation to what sounded like such

overwhelming pleasure.

But it was early in the day, hours before anything would happen. And God knew she couldn't afford to waste half a day of writing on worries about

what might or might not happen tonight. And if nothing else, work would provide a good distraction. Thinking about Riley's fictional affair with Sloane Bennett was considerably easier than dealing with her real affair with Braden. And possibly—
gulp!
—Tommy.

Which was when she realized That something
big
needed to happen in Riley s world—and she knew exactly what it was! Pul ing her gaze back

from the window, she focused on the screen and began to type.

As Riley and Sloane rounded the last bend before reaching the garden, he hefted the old quilts higher in his arm and took her hand. But as

they reached the entrance—a white latticed arbor draped with hummingbird vines and bracketed by the tal , wel -groomed wal s of green

shrubbery on both sides—Sloane pul ed to a rough halt, jerking Riley back a step.

"What?" she asked, dumbfounded.

Sloane didn't look at her, but she could sense the darkening of his demeanor. "Wait here," he said and started inside. "Why?" she asked, fol owing.

He turned on her, his gaze serious and menacing. "Wait here, Riley—I mean it."

Riley drew in her breath, incensed. How dare he? She watched as he strode through the arbor into the garden, wondering what on earth was

going on. Which was when she saw it: a foot! She gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. A man's lone foot stretched into her line of

vision through the hummingbird vines—she spied the hem of simple dark blue pants, a black laced work boot sticking out from the bottom.

Just then, Sloane reappeared, scowling when he saw That she’d been peeking. "Who is it?" she asked, stunned. "And is he ... ?"

"Hawthorne is dead," Sloane told her plainly.

"Oh my God!"

"You can say that again."

Riley had never cared much for the Dorchesters' gardener— in fact, he was general y quite surly. But that didn't mean she wanted to see him

dead.

"Tel me it looks like a heart attack or something natural," she demanded. Because discovering stolen items in the garden was one thing—

but a dead body was entirely another. She didn't want to find out they had a murderer on their hands.

"Wel ," Sloane said, "I'd love to. But given that the guy has a big knife in his chest, I don't think it's likely."

Riley gasped again. "A knife?" She found herself leaning closer to the arbor, trying to peer around it. The move revealed more of

Hawthorne's leg, and the other, bent at an odd angle.

Sloane pul ed her back. "Multiple stab wounds, Riley, and a lot of blood. Not something you need to see, honey—okay?"

She drew in her breath and knew she must have looked panicked as Sloane took her into his arms. She couldn't believe this! In al the cases

she'd worked on, no one had ever been murdered!

"He was kind of mean," she whispered into Sloane's shoulder, echoing her thought from a moment earlier, "but I never would have wished

him dead."

Sloane drew back slightly. "Mean how?"

Oh, she'd forgotten—Sloane wasn't here often, so he hadn't known Hawthorne wel .

"He was just the grumbly sort. Just recently, in fact, he had several run-ins with Aunt Mimsey, yel ing at her for parking her car over the edge

of our driveway, getting one wheel in your aunt and uncle's yard and creating ruts. But she's getting older—her driving isn't what it used to be.

And it's only one wheel, for heaven's sake—trust me, if you knew Aunt Mimsey wel , you'd know it could be a lot worse."

Sloane's eyes narrowed. "How many times has this happened?"

Riley thought about it. "Three? Four? I'm not sure. I just know he was quite blustery about it, and she got very upset. Aunt Mimsey doesn't get

angry often, but Hawthorne had her in quite a state."

She stopped blathering on when she caught the worried look in Sloane's gaze. And she understood what he was thinking even before he

said it.

"Riley, honey, I'm sorry, but you know where this al points, don't you?"

She didn't answer—
couldn't
answer The very notion was too horrifying.

"You know your aunt is starting to look guilty."

Riley sucked in her breath. Aunt Mimsey was such an important part of her life, and had been like a mother to her ever since her own had

died. Yet her aunt had slowly become more addled over the years. And she
had
coveted Mrs. Dorchester's broach, as wel as that

Hemingway autograph. In fact, Riley feared that if she thought long and hard, she could find a connection between Aunt Mimsey and every

item that had been stolen from the Dorchesters' home. What if she'd been hiding them, thinking to come back for them later, after their

disappearance had been forgotten? What if she'd thought it too dangerous to have them al in her possession until the Dorchesters gave up

on finding them and this al died down?

Al sil y speculation, she assured herself. And she found it impossible to believe Aunt Mimsey was capable of murder ... except for one

terrible thing that even Sloane didn't know about, because Riley had shut up before spouting it out. Aunt Mimsey had been so upset over her

last row with Hawthorne That she’d said to Riley, "If that man yel s at me one more time, I'm going to make him sorry."

What if that time had come? What if Hawthorne had pushed Aunt Mimsey too far?

"Sloane, make love to me," Riley pleaded, her voice rough with desperation.

He stil held her but gently pul ed back. "Riley, we need to cal the police. We need to tel my aunt and uncle what's happened. And you and I

need to put our heads together to figure out who's responsible." He glanced toward the arbor. "Besides, the garden's a little ... occupied at the moment."

"I don't care—about any of that. Not right now. Just make love to me, Sloane—I don't want to wait! Make me forget everything bad for a little

while. Take it al away. Make it so there's nothing but you—you inside me."

She watched as Sloane's eyes darkened—then began surveying the space around them. Taking Riley's wrist, he pul ed her hurriedly away

from the garden's entrance and into the shade of a large, sprawling maple tree, al green and bil owy with summer. He threw the blankets to

the ground, then pushed her to her knees, joining her there in a hard, urgent kiss.

This sex would be different than anything they'd shared in the garden, Riley knew. He'd taken her to heights unknown in that pristine setting,

but this—outside the garden, in the tal grass, the heavy tree limbs dripping over them, swaying madly now in a sudden, warm breeze—

would be something much wilder stil .

Braden lounged comfortably on a sofa in Tommy’s office, a laptop balanced before him, while Tommy sat behind his desk, manning a larger

computer. They took turns in a two-player quest game involving medieval castles and damsels in dungeons. Braden was down to his last of five

swords, and unless he slayed the dragon guarding the moat on this try, he lost the game. But he wasn’t even sure they'd
finish
the game, given the topic he'd just broached with little warning. He'd just asked Tommy if he wanted to have a threesome with him and Laura.

Tommy stared at him around his screen. "Dude—you're sure you want this?"

Braden gave a short, definite nod. "Do I ever do
anything
I'm unsure about?"

Tommy shrugged in concession. "Nope—I'd say you're the mo decisive guy I've ever met. But this is a little different than what ski run to hit or what you want on your pizza. Hel , it's even a little different than buying out a company, for God's sake."

Braden tilted his head. "This from the guy who's the official expert on three-ways. I thought this would be nothing to you."

Tommy's eyes narrowed. "It's not me I'm concerned about. I just have to make sure you real y want to share her."

"What I
want
is to give her more pleasure than any man ever has— or ever wil again. And this is how."

Tommy drew back. "Whoa—this sounds serious."

Now it was Braden who shrugged. "She's opened up to me in ways she never has for anyone else. I just want to take that further, keep that

momentum going. I want to see her experience ultimate pleasure—I want to see her take both our cocks."

He watched Tommy draw in his breath. "Damn," he said, sounding more aroused now than concerned.

"Is that a yes?"

"Uh, yeah. I don't think I'm strong enough to pass this up even if I wanted to."

"Good. And besides, I figured it would end your sex drought."

Tommy nodded. "Hel of a way to end it, that's for sure."

"Just remember what I told you—we'l need to feel her out over dinner. I know she's into it—she just hasn't quite talked herself into thinking it's okay yet."

"Got it. We play it by ear, take it where she wants it to go."

"Exactly." Now that it was settled, Braden looked back to his screen and resumed wondering how he was going to slay that damn stubborn dragon and get to the damsel waiting for rescue inside the castle. But thinking of that damsel made him look back up. "One more thing."