Who Wants to Be a Sex Goddess? (11 page)

“A story that involves breaking into the records office and rifling their files.”

“You know, your postcoital pillow talk leaves a little something to be desired.” It was a cheap shot, and she was only a little gratified to see him flinch. Well, she didn't care. She just wanted to go to bed—her own bed—and forget tonight ever happened. The room was growing lighter, and she'd have to get out of here soon if she had any chance of getting back to her cabin without being seen.

“All right. Fine. I was looking for news.”

“In the clientele files?”

“I had to start somewhere.”
Tell him.
“Why are you asking me all these questions? Are you the resident goddess snitch?”

No response.

“It's a human interest piece. You know that heiress that died a few weeks ago?”

Still no response. She might as well be talking to herself. “Well, I thought it would be a really good story. You know, lonely rich woman meets tragic end just when she finds the key to happiness.”

“And how does Miranda Houston fit into this human interest piece?”

Andy flinched.
Tell him.
“Who?”

He just looked at her.

She was getting panicky now. People would be getting up soon. “Oh. The woman that was here last session?”

He nodded.

“No connection.” She glanced up at him. “Were you here last session?”

“No.”

“Can I go now?”

“No. Where do you go in the mornings?”

That one had come out of left field. “Well, I did the Knowing What You Want class and—”

“Before class. Before breakfast. Over the wall. I saw you.”

“Oh.” She pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Just getting some exercise. There's a nice lake there. I like to swim. Now can I go? It's getting light.”

Dillon looked past her to the window. Gave a short nod.

Relief shot through her. She jumped off the bed. Started for the door.

Like a panther, Dillon was there before her, blocking her way.

“Why don't you put your talent to use?”

She frowned, not understanding.

“Use the window.”

He dragged her across the room, opened the square window with his free hand, and stuck his head out, “It's clear. Get going and don't get caught.”

He stood back while she climbed onto the sill. Suddenly her throat was burning, and tears were pricking her eyes, but she glanced back over her shoulder.

“Hey,” she said, her voice only a little shaky. “What happened to ‘I had a great time. I'll call you.'”

His eyes narrowed into searing pinpoints that cut right through her. “I had a great time. I'll call you.” He gave her a shove and shut the window.

Dillon stepped away from the window, but he watched Ariadne running gazelle-like over the lawn. He was already castigating himself for succumbing to her studied seduction, and yet he couldn't take his eyes off her.

Christ. It was déjà vu all over again. How stupid could one man be?

If he screwed up this assignment, he'd be out on his ear. And yet, seeing her look so forlorn, even knowing she was lying to him, he was barely able to keep himself from pushing her down on the bed and making love to her until it was night again.

Tonight he hadn't cared if she were a spinster, a reporter, or a double, triple, quadruple agent. She'd walked into the shower room, dropped that robe, and he was lost. At first he was afraid the hallucinations were back, but he still had her scent on his hands.

She might be a reporter, but she was lying about something. And that hurt. For some reason beyond his need to know, he wanted her to tell him the truth.

Well, he would just have to find out by himself. Because regardless of what or who she was, he couldn't have her meddling in his investigation. She might blow the whole operation, and worse, she might get hurt.

 

Andy forced back tears as she ran across the dewy lawn. They had gone up in flames together, and he'd pushed her out a window without a kiss or a caress. That was a first.

She didn't stop running until she reached her cabin. She burst through the door and flung herself on the couch. But she didn't cry like any normal girl who'd just been jilted. Maybe she'd been expecting it. After all, she should be used to this scenario by now. She'd played it often enough.

She sat up and tucked her knees under the sweatshirt. It smelled like him, something she couldn't quite define, something that smelled so good that it made her heart ache. Made her wish that he had been different. That she had been different.

Stupid. Her next film started in three weeks. She didn't have time for love anyway. She caught herself twisting the bottom of the sweatshirt and pulled her fingers away. So why did she feel so bad?

A
ndy waited until breakfast was almost over before making an appearance. She'd made coffee in her cabin, but caffeine and worry made her stomach roil, so she stopped by the dining hall, hoping to snare a roll without having to stay.

Of course, Evelyn, Loubelle, and Jeannie were just coming out as she stepped up to the buffet line.

“There you are,” said Jeannie. “We thought maybe your slave had done you in.”

Andy bobbled the roll she'd just picked up.

“Never saw a man so surly in the morning. Except my first husband. He could be a bear. What did you do to the poor man?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, he's not fit for a goddess this morning. Why don't you come with us? We're going to the Spa. And you look like you could use some pampering.” Jeannie took her shoulders and marched her toward the door.

“Didn't you sleep well?” asked Loubelle, her mouth puckered in concern.

Andy shook her head. Actually, she hadn't slept at all. And her night had gone from stellar to dismal.

“Then you need some TLC,” said Jeannie. “There's yoga and meditation and a Jacuzzi.” She grinned. “And if those don't fix you, there's always Hans.” She did a little shimmy. “He's got the Midas touch. Ooo-eee.”

“I don't think—”

“I've got an extra suit in my bag. Now, no excuses. It'll do you good. Uh-oh here comes Mr. Grumpy.”

Andy looked up in time to see Dillon and JoJo leaving the dining room. JoJo gave them a bright “Good morning,” but Dillon just walked past, frowning.

He's going to tell them about the break-in,
thought Andy, her stomach clenching.

She caught Evelyn's eye. The older woman smiled sympathetically. “Why don't you join us? You'll feel better.”

“All right,” said Andy. She couldn't believe that he could be so conniving. He'd made love to her, and now he was going to rat her out. Well, to hell with him. She'd acted like a fool and she got what she deserved.

Dillon and JoJo went up the stairs, just as Carmen and Jane came down. As usual, they were arguing. They stopped when they saw the four women but took up again as soon as they passed by.

“I
didn't leave that mess,” groused Jane. “But
somebody
said I did.”

“It wasn't me, so just shut up.” Carmen flounced ahead of her.

“Ooo-ee,” said Jeannie. “Seems like everybody's in a bad mood today.”

“Thanks to you, we're stuck with Hans the ham-fisted all day.”

“It wasn't—”

The door closed, cutting off Carmen's final words.

“Well,” said Evelyn. “Shall we go?”

 

The Spa was another Greco-style building on the far side of the pool. As they approached it, Andy heard a rumbling sound and looked up in time to see a helicopter hover, then descend behind the hill.

“Fresh crab for lunch,” said Evelyn.

Or the police to drag me away to jail,
thought Andy with a visible shudder.

“I'll meet you in the dressing room,” Jeannie said and hurried away.

She returned a few minutes later and thrust a pair of hot pink leotards and exercise tights at Andy. “Got these at the Spa store. Hurry up and get dressed. Class starts in five minutes.”

Andy looked at the skimpy spandex in her hands. Well, what the hell. She was tired of losing herself in loose-fitting clothes. She would just tell them she'd been working out in preparation for the retreat.

When she came out, having thrown her oversized shirt over her new exercise clothes, ten women were already sitting on blue rectangular mats, stretching and chatting quietly. Jeannie motioned her over and pointed to a mat next to hers.

Andy sat down. The instructor took her place in front of the room. Andy hadn't seen her before, but she was trim and muscular. She led them through breathing exercises, then a series of positions, starting with Greet the Sun. Andy knew the drill. She'd done yoga for a few months when she was recovering from a stagecoach chase gone bad. She concentrated on twisting herself into a pretzel while remembering to breathe, and trying not to think about Dillon or wondering what he was saying to Dr. Bliss and company.

After class, they took a five-minute break. Everyone headed for the side of the room and their water bottles.

“We're supposed to talk quietly,” said Jeannie in a whisper that carried across the room. “Meditation's next.”

Andy nodded. She didn't really want to meditate. She had a hard time sitting still at the best of times. But they might be outside waiting to take her away. Maybe she'd think of a way out while chanting
Ohm.

She took her place on her mat, crossed her legs, and folded her hands in her lap—and did a double take as the instructor walked to the front of the room.

She leaned over to Jeannie. “Katherine Dane is the meditation instructor?”

Jeannie nodded. “MBA, and certified in Hatha Yoga. Guess that's why she's so bland all the time.” She made a face and slapped a hand over her mouth. But her eyes were twinkling.

Katherine Dane faced the group. She was wearing loose gauze harem pants and a leotard top. She looked as unruffled as usual and just as unapproachable. Still, Andy was having trouble reconciling the businesswoman with the New Age one. Was she a product of goddess training? Was she just as efficient with the cosmos as she was behind a computer?

“Good morning, all,” she said, stretching out her arms and smiling down on the seated women.

“Good morning, Katherine,” they replied together.

Katherine sat down, crossed her legs, and folded her hands in her lap. Soft New Age music floated through the room from unseen speakers. Andy felt her mind begin to relax. Maybe, this was just what she needed. According to Mac's file, she'd attended the meditation class, and Mac hated sitting still even more than Andy did. So there must be something to it.

She closed her eyes, hoping to release the anxiety and hurt she was feeling. She jumped when Katherine said, “Clear your thoughts, go to a place where sunshine welcomes you, warm, inviting, soothing.” Her voice was soothing, almost monotonal, but it brought Andy right back to the fix she was in.

“Tune your chi into the universe, let the energy pour over you, through you, around you. Take a cleansing breath.”

All around her, Andy heard intakes of air. She breathed in, let it out, tried to relax. She should have stopped after yoga. She'd felt okay then.

“And breathe in.” Katherine's arms stretched out as she took in an audible breath. “And exhale.”

Everyone did.

“Let your chi flow.”

I would if you'd shut up,
thought Andy. Weren't you supposed to be quiet when you meditated?

She tried to listen to the music, drown out Katherine's talking. She drifted, but instead of going to a sunny place, she thought of Dillon and the two of them in the shower. The heat that passed between them. How they'd stood before each other, naked and not touching, until he finally gave in. His hands on her. His mouth.

“Let all thoughts drift away. Think them and let them go into the universe, until all thoughts are gone. And sublime emptiness is all that is left.

“There is no worry, only light. It carries your hopes, your fears, your thoughts into the cosmos.”

Andy was getting annoyed. She didn't want her thoughts carried off into the cosmos. She had a hard enough time keeping them together. But she breathed in and out. And saw Aunt Mac's face. Where was she? Wouldn't Andy know if she had been hurt? Would she know if Dillon was hurt? She pushed the thought away. Remembered that she wasn't supposed to push them away, but let them drift. This wasn't going to work.

Katherine's voice droned on and on and on, until, at last, Andy ceased to hear it.

 

Dillon sat across the coffee table from Fiona Bliss, regarding her with a mixture of relief and wariness. When JoJo told him she wanted to see him, he'd been sure Ariadne and he must have been spotted by the security guards during their little B and E fiasco. But Dr. Bliss had greeted him with a smile, had offered herbal tea—which he declined—and asked him to sit down. It seemed that she only wanted to know how he and Ariadne McAllister were getting along.

“Fine,” he told her.

“She's led a very sheltered life.”

He nodded, noncommittally, waiting for her to get to the point.

She picked up a gold pen off the coffee table and rolled it between long, graceful fingers. “I don't want her taken advantage of.”

“I—”

“I know you haven't. At least I don't believe you have. We screen our attendants very carefully. Sometimes an unsuitable choice passes under the radar, but not often. And when it does happen, Katherine deals with it quickly and efficiently.”

So that was it. She'd decided he was unsuitable and was about to fire him. His ass was grass.

She paused and looked at him thoughtfully; put the pen down and leaned forward.

“Goddess International began as a program to help women fulfill their needs. Most of the first attendees were businesswomen who needed an extra edge to compete with men. But what I really wanted to do was help all women to fully realize themselves.”

Dillon watched her speculatively. She seemed sincere, but then it was easy to have good intentions when those intentions were bringing in millions of dollars.

“Women who come to the retreat are in all stages of development. We don't often have someone as shy and well, as homely, as Ariadne. It takes courage for a woman of Ariadne's nature to take that first step toward self-realization.”

And which of the several Ariadnes are you talking about? The mouse, the second-story sneak thief, or the demon lover.

“They must be nurtured, handled with great delicacy. I usually suggest taking several smaller sessions before signing up for the full summer course. It can be very stressful, being away from home, not being able to communicate with the outside world. But her family was very concerned about her and very persuasive. She doesn't make friends easily.”

“She spends time with several women here.”

“Yes. So I've been told. But they are old enough to be her grandmothers. Which brings me to the point.”

Dillon waited.

“Jojo is in charge of matching serfs with trainees. He tries to match experienced attendants with new arrivals. Sometimes there's a mix-up. Perhaps being new to Terra Bliss, you would be more comfortable with someone a little more outgoing?”

He shook his head. There was no way in hell he was giving up Ariadne. She was perfect. For his cover. He meant. If she really was a reporter, he could keep an eye on her. Prevent her from botching his investigation. If she was lying, he'd deal with her when the time came.

“No,” he said, trying not to sound impulsive. “It would be a bad idea to change her now.”

“Why is that?”

“She's getting used to me. She might think it was something she did, that she was a failure. It might worsen her self-image.”
And mine,
he thought…If Ariadne had really been the person they were talking about instead of the voluptuous she-cat who'd seduced him the night before, it would be the truth. And he ached for that woman who didn't exist. Because he knew just how she would feel. It was the way he felt when he woke up in the hospital to the knowledge that he'd fallen for the oldest con in the book, that he'd jeopardized other agents, had nearly died and blown the operation because of his bad judgment.

He became aware of Bliss regarding him intently, the blue of her eyes clear and penetrating. As if she could see into his soul.

“Just my uneducated opinion, of course.”

The doctor's mouth curved in a gentle smile. “You surprise me, Dillon Cross.”

He lifted his eyebrows, inviting her to explain.

“In your audition, you came across as a very arrogant man. Katherine and Bernard had reservations about hiring you. Actually, so did I, but, I think, for reasons different than theirs.”

“No self-respecting man likes to be paraded around in his underwear.”

Her mouth quirked up. It was so fleeting he was unsure how to read it.

“I'm glad I decided to accept you. I think you'll be an asset to the organization. And you might even derive some benefit as well.”

“Me?” It came out before he could stop it. The only benefit he could possibly get from this was keeping himself employed. If he botched this job, he could kiss his livelihood goodbye.

The doctor broke into a full smile. It was captivating, and Dillon caught a glimpse of why people flocked to her workshops, sought her out everywhere she went. Which didn't mean, he reminded himself, that she wouldn't use that charisma to gain a person's loyalty and then murder them for their money.