Double Entendre Page 9

  He’d given her one of those exasperated sighs that could drive her up the wall. “Colleen, we’ll talk it all out when I get back.”

  “If you walk out, there won’t be anything to talk about.”

  “If I don’t walk out, you might not be around to talk.”

  “Oh, Bret! That is—”

  “Shut up, Colleen.”

  “Bret! Damn it, if you don’t stop and listen to me, I’ll—”

  “Listen, Colleen. You just do whatever you feel you have to do, okay?”

  And that had been that. He hadn’t tried to touch her; he’d just gone. When the door had closed, she’d burst into tears.

  Two weeks later she’d filed for divorce. In the days and weeks that had followed, she’d finally quit crying herself to sleep every night.

  But in all that time she still hadn’t really learned to sleep without him, to live without him. And now he was back.

  A little sob escaped her, and she gave herself a furious shake. He’d been back, but he hadn’t tried to call her or see her.

  Not until Rutger had died. Not until there had been a story to steal. Nothing had changed. Nothing.

  Especially not the attraction he held for her.

  Colleen started suddenly. The phone was ringing. It rang so long that the machine picked it up. She listened to her own voice, and then her boss’s.

  “Colleen, it’s Carly. Pick up. C’mon, Colleen, pick up the damned phone, will you?”

  By that time she had reached the extension. “Hello, Carly. What’s up?”

  “How’d things go?”

  “Fine.”

  “Learn anything?”

  Colleen hesitated. She hated to lie to Carly, but she wasn’t going to wind up cooling her heels at home. Not this time.

  “Not really. Not yet. Only that Sandy Tyrell is scared silly. I’m hoping I’ll get somewhere soon.” She hesitated for a second. “Where’s Bret?”

  “On his way home. That’s what I really called to tell you.” Now Carly was the one hesitating. “Colleen, be decent to him tonight, will you? We, uh, got a little carried away watching the game.”

  “What are you talking about, Carly?”

  “You’ll see. Oh, and listen, don’t worry about anything else. I want the two of you to keep your noses to the grindstone, all right? You’ve got carte blanche on expenses, so run with it. We’re way ahead of the pack. Hell, we might even beat the daily papers on it!”

  “Thanks,” she murmured, the wheels of her mind churning swiftly. “You say that Bret’s on his way back?”

  “Yeah.”

  She exchanged a few more pleasantries with him before she hung up. Then she quickly dialed the airlines and booked herself through to Marrakech, first class. She didn’t get carte blanche on expenses that often.

  For a few minutes she chewed the eraser on the end of her pencil, wondering how to elude Bret in the morning. She’d have to get to the office to run off a copy of her puzzle piece, and then to the airport. Somehow she was going to have to leave him sleeping and trustful. She was going to have to do it, she assured herself, no matter what the cost.

  “Oh, you fool!” she whispered dismally. She wanted an excuse to be with him….

  “Don’t think!” she told herself, and with a sudden spurt of energy, she raced into the kitchen and dug into the freezer. She found some steaks and slammed them into the microwave to defrost them. She dug into the closet for some wine, set a bottle in the refrigerator to chill, then pulled the steaks out of the microwave and poured a little of the wine over them, shrugged and added the rest of the bottle.

  Someone was pounding on the door again. Not frantically as Sandy had. Determinedly, almost like the Big Bad Wolf. If she didn’t answer the door soon, it was likely to be pounded in.

  Colleen hesitated for a second longer, reminding herself that she was going to be charming all evening. Then she hurried to the door. “Bret?”

  He had told her not to answer it unless she was sure.

  “Yes!”

  She opened the door. He just stood there, grinning crookedly and swaying a little. She frowned, but then he walked by her and sank into the sofa, lacing his fingers behind his head and stretching his legs out on the coffee table. “Okay, how’d it go?”

  She stared at him, still frowning. He was pronouncing his words very carefully and still grinning.

  “It went well.”

  Colleen walked nearer to him and caught a whiff of the Scotch. “You’ve been drinking,” she commented dryly.

  “Yeah, a little. Let me hear about Sandy Tyrell.”

  Colleen perched on the edge of the coffee table, watching him, the wheels of her mind spinning once again. It was perfect! If she could just get him to drink a little more, he’d sleep like a log!

  Be sweet, be sweet! she cautioned herself.

  “Sandy Tyrell is a very frightened lady. That’s about all I learned. Oh! Poor thing, she’s pretty bitter. Her name is Tyrell because her father never married her mother. He heard about the scandal and dumped her flat. She gave me her puzzle piece.”

  “She did?”

  “Umm. I’ll get it.”

  He stared at her, surprised. She smiled and hurried to get the sheet of vellum paper. He was still staring at her when she returned, and she kept smiling, partially with real amusement. His hair was mussed over his brow, and his eyes were that gleaming silver, but they were also slightly red.

  And somehow he looked all the more appealing to her.

  “You look a little beat,” she said. “Want a pillow?”

  He wasn’t that drunk; his eyes narrowed like a hawk’s. Colleen decided she was pushing her luck, but his gaze fell from her to the paper she was holding. “No, I don’t want a pillow.”

  “Earth Is the Mother,” he muttered, staring at the paper she’d handed him. “Great, the diamonds are buried in the earth.” His gaze was suddenly sharp. “What does your piece say?”

  “N’Oubliez Pas and it shows a mountain, like this one shows a ski lift. Doesn’t tell you much, does it?” she asked pleasantly.

  Once again he was carefully studying her. She started talking again, a little too fast. “Oh! Bret, we can see her again, together. She knows about you, and she doesn’t mind your being involved.”

  He smiled at her with a total lack of humor. “Okay, Colleen, what aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing!” Nervously she started to rise from the coffee table, where she had resumed her seat.

  “Colleen!”

  He certainly hadn’t been drinking enough. He rose, an arm outstretched to stop her. With a quick gasp she eluded him, wondering dismally what good it would do. He’d catch her in two steps.

  Except that he didn’t. He tripped over the coffee table and hit the floor with a dull thud. Stunned, Colleen turned back.

  “Ohhh,” he murmured painfully, stretched out on the floor and rubbing his temple.

  She tried not to laugh, not even to smile. She even knelt beside him and touched his cheek in a gesture of concern. “Bret! Are you all right?”

  He stared up at the ceiling. “Just great.”

  “You liar!” she charged him. “You and Carly were drinking all afternoon. And I’ll bet you didn’t eat a thing!”

  “Bacon,” he murmured.

  “Bacon and Scotch?” she asked incredulously.

  “Yeah. It’s really not half bad.”

  “Dummies!” she teased. “Come on, let me help you up. Did you really hurt your head? I’ll get you some ice for it.”

  She grated her teeth as he leaned against her. He didn’t look it, but he weighed a ton. And even with the scent of Scotch about him, he smelled delicious, and touching him sent little shivers racing through her system. Shivers that became a trembling of memory she could not deny.

  “You’re drunk as a skunk, McAllistair,” she told him. She started to laugh, really enjoying the situation. Bret never got drunk. He never even got tipsy. “Oh, I love it!” she taunted
him aloud, her eyes sparkling like gold dust.

  Well, he wasn’t really falling down drunk. He found his own balance and sat on the couch again, eyeing her dryly. “Just like a woman. She loves suffering.”

  “Oh, you’re not suffering. Let me see your head.”

  He caught her shoulders when she leaned over him, and her eyes met his suspicious gaze. “You’re being awfully nice. I don’t trust you when you’re nice, Colleen.”

  She pulled away, ostensibly hurt. “Really, Bret…”

  “Well, then, why this sudden solicitude?”

  “I’m trying to be pleasant, for old times’ sake. I’ll get some ice.”

  “Colleen, it isn’t that bad.”

  But she got him some ice anyway. Then she slipped off his sneakers and tucked one of the throw pillows behind him. Afterward she quickly broiled the steaks that had been marinating in the wine. She served him on the couch, and he watched her with greater and greater suspicion, yet he seemed too bemused to protest.

  Colleen just kept smiling.

  He finally did protest when she opened a bottle of wine. “I don’t need another drink.”

  “This isn’t a drink, Bret. It’s wine, for dinner.”

  “I don’t want any.”

  “All right,” she said stiffly, and painstakingly began to pour her own back into the bottle.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m certainly not going to drink alone.”

  “Ah, hell, Colleen…”

  “Well, how was I supposed to know when I spent all day fooling with these steaks that you were going to spend all day playing macho man over at Carly’s and—”

  “Okay, okay! I’ll have a glass of wine!” He was too pleasantly lethargic to fight her. His head was spinning too much. He knew he still shouldn’t trust her and, for that matter, he didn’t. But it was pleasant. Whatever she was up to, it was irresistibly pleasant.

  “You really don’t have to, Bret.”

  “Pour the damned wine! You’re giving me a headache!”

  Smiling sweetly, Colleen poured the wine. Bret accepted his glass. “I want you to call Sandy Tyrell first thing in the morning and arrange a meeting for the three of us,” he said in a warning tone.

  “Of course, Bret!”

  The food was delicious. The wine, which went with it perfectly, was smooth and dry. Bret continued to watch her warily, but as she chatted idly about Sandy, he began to relax. She really seemed to be out to please tonight. Maybe she really was offering the olive branch of peace, at least for the time being.

  He set his plate down and winced a little at the crick in his neck. She was up immediately, standing behind him, massaging his shoulders. The pressure of her fingers sent little waves of hot electricity through him. Her touch was a butterfly caress at first; then it turned firm and soothing….

  Or it would have been soothing if it hadn’t created such tension in his body. He was aware of nothing but the desperate longing to turn around and pull her onto his lap.

  He didn’t move. This was her game. He had to see how far she was going to take it. And there was something more…. Whatever it was, he didn’t quite have the will to stop it. There had been too many times when he’d longed just to see her face, to feel her touch, to hear her whisper. He didn’t want to break the spell.

  “You know,” he murmured, allowing his words a hint of fuzziness, “you didn’t plan this grand hostess routine quite perfectly.”

  “I didn’t?”

  He rolled his silver gaze to hers. “You should have been wearing something soft…slinky.”

  She chuckled huskily. “I can fix that.”

  She turned to leave, but he caught her hand. “Why don’t we fix it…together.”

  Wariness crept into her eyes. “Bret, let’s not rush things here.” She tugged lightly on her hand, but he pretended to ignore her attempt to escape.

  “I was thinking of the, uh, the whirlpool.”

  “The whirlpool!” For a moment her tender facade dropped, but she quickly retrieved it. “Bret, I’m trying to be decent,” she said quietly. “To be friends…”

  He opened his eyes wide with affronted innocence. “I’ve got shorts on. You own bathing suits.”

  “Oh,” she murmured, and he watched with a secret smile as she dropped her lashes quickly. “I’m not so sure you can make the whirlpool,” she told him, but he could see the wheels in her mind clicking away. Whirlpool…warm, soothing, relaxing. She was trying to put him out for the night, and she was doing a damned good job of it. Why?

  He lifted one hand helplessly. “You could assist me.”

  She smiled and allowed her fingers to play lightly over his cheek. “All right, Bret. Just let me get it going and… change into something more appropriate.”

  He closed his eyes and smiled while she walked out. It was just like old times, even if for a devious purpose. The sound of her voice was as throaty as a caress; it seemed to remain in the air like a haunting perfume. And if they were talking and laughing…and if her touch was igniting a sweet sizzle in his bloodstream…then surely she could not remain immune to memory herself.

  He opened his eyes. She was back, wearing a white bikini. It was wonderful. Her flesh was golden against it, her hair the color of midnight. Her legs were long and slim and wicked, and her breasts were full and provocative against the white bra, mounding above it so that his fingers itched to reach out, his palms to caress.

  He took a deep breath and gave her a lopsided grin. “Are we all set?” he asked her lazily.

  “Hmm.”

  “Give me a hand.”

  She did so. He was careful to lean heavily against her. He rested his head against her shoulder and inhaled deeply the fresh scent of her hair.

  “Careful, watch your step!” she warned him.

  He smiled again, his gaze hidden by the silken web of her hair. “Oh, I’m watching it.”

  He felt a tremor from her and was amused and fascinated. What was she doing? It didn’t really matter, he decided.

  Seconds later they reached the bathroom. The water was swirling away, steam rising, creating something like a tropical mist, hazing the glass and hiding the foliage beyond. Bret stepped into the tub and landed with a splash. He caught Colleen’s eyes in a naked moment. They were torn, as if she were beginning to worry that she was taking things too far….

  She caught him watching her and quickly smiled. “Nice?”

  He leaned back, closing his eyes. “Perfect. Relaxing….” He felt anything but relaxed. The warm, swirling water pounded around him, a good feeling, but like something that promised more. Much more.

  He opened an eye. “Aren’t you coming in?”

  “Sure.”

  “Don’t forget the wine.”

  “Oh, I won’t.”

  And then she was sitting across from him, their kneecaps grazing. Bret pushed himself up again, startling her as he laced an arm through hers and sipped his wine. Her face was just inches away. He reached out to touch her lip, his fingers moist and warm.

  “Remember how we used to do it?”

  “What?” She gasped a little as she spoke.

  He smiled. “Drink wine. Out of each other’s glasses….”

  “Oh.” She returned his smile and sipped from his glass, and suddenly they were so close he could barely stand it. He lowered his glass and his elbow grazed against her breast, and he remembered again its fullness, so soft when crushed against him….

  Careful! he warned himself, and he leaned back lazily, allowing his lids to fall halfway over his eyes. “Makes you so sleepy, in here.”

  He watched her. Oh, God! How he loved to watch her. The beautiful length of her throat, the rise of her breasts, the dancing gold and amber of her eyes. She looked a little nervous, yet there was that odd little smile curving her lips, as if she’d been captured by memory herself. A memory that haunted the present with warmth and tension and a growing excitement. He stretched a leg and ran his toe lightly ove
r her thigh.

  “Remember our honeymoon?” he asked her lightly.

  “Yes. You carried me over the threshold and slammed your foot into the dresser. You broke three toes, at a ski lodge.”

  “Ah, but I’d never intended to do much skiing anyway.”

  “We never left the room.”

  “Great, wasn’t it?”

  “You’ve got quite an ego.”

  “You were super, Colleen. You fretted over my every movement. You brought me breakfast in bed, you gave me the most incredible massages.”

  “Maybe you should have married Florence Nightingale.”

  He leaned close again, very slowly, until he was just inches away from her once more, surrounded by the roar of the pool, by the mist, by her sweet fragrance. He kept watching her eyes and moving forward until his lips touched hers, tasted wine and felt them trembling.

  He moved away. “You were always beautiful, Colleen.”

  He fell back against the tub. “Wow…the warmth. The wine, the woman, the song… I’m half…half asleep in here.”

  “Are you?” She sounded a little anxious, a little relieved and a little triumphant.

  “Ummm.” He closed his eyes completely and let his head roll back. “Ummm…”

  “Bret. Bret!” Now she sounded like a sober person, carefully dealing with a drunk. “Bret!” Was she really alarmed that he might drown? “Bret, come on, I’ve got to get you out of here. We’ve got to get you into bed before you’re out completely. Come on, Bret! I can’t carry you.”

  She was already outside the tub, turning off the motor, clutching a towel and tugging at his arm. “Come on, Bret!”

  He staggered out of the tub, leaning on her heavily. “Ummm. You’re a good woman, Colleen.”

  “Sure,” she humored him. “That’s your real opinion, right, Bret?”

  He paused, pulling away from her. “Colleen! I’m shattered. I’m stunned that you could say—”

  “You’re drunk, you letch. Come on.”

  He let her lead him again. Two feet away from the bed he balked and began tugging at his cutoffs.

  “Bret!”

  “Can’t sleep in these things. They’re soaked.”

  Was it the heat of the water? Or was it her nearness to him? He didn’t know, but the ache inside of him was terrible as her body took on a beautiful blush. She wasn’t quite as assured as she tried to act. She was nervous; she was trembling….