Seducing His Heart Page 14

  “Can’t stay in my own apartment?”

  “Sorry. This is a crime scene. We’ll try to get it processed quickly, but I make no promises.”

  “Can I have your cell number, so we can reach you?”

  Bess wrote it down. Whit came up behind her and rested his hand on her shoulder. “She’ll be staying with me, if you need to reach her.”

  The officers exchanged a look then nodded. “Fine, Mr. Bass.”

  “Is she in any danger?” he asked.

  “Can’t say, sir. Possibly. Fortunate she wasn’t home tonight. We’ll interview the doorman and find out who came in.”

  “Can I come with you?” Beth asked.

  “Of course.”

  Whit took the dogs and retreated to his apartment while the policemen and Bess went to the lobby.

  “He was dressed as a cop. Said he was Officer McNeil’s partner and needed to pick up something McNeil had left behind. So, I let him up,” Crash told them.

  Bess gasped. “Terry didn’t leave anything behind.”

  “Nothing you’re aware of, Miss Cooper,” Hank said.

  Joe got on the radio and called for a team. “What did this man look like?” he asked Crash.

  The doorman gave a good description, which didn’t match Terry’s partner. They looked at the security footage, noticing that the man had averted his face from the camera. But he was a foot shorter than Terrence McNeil’s real sidekick, so the officers knew he was a fake.

  “I’m afraid you’re in real danger, Miss Cooper. Do you have somewhere you can go for a few days?”

  Bess burst into tears. She picked up her cell and dialed Rory.

  “I’m on my way,” Rory said.

  Crash gave Bess his handkerchief. The two huddled together while the cops conferred with another one outside. When Rory and Hack arrived at The Wellington, a police car with lights flashing was parked at the curb. Joe and Hank were standing on the sidewalk, talking. Another officer was on his radio. When Crash saw Rory, he opened the front door.

  “What happened?”

  “Miss Rory, so glad you’re here. It’s been a three-ring circus.”

  Bess stepped forward. Rory hugged her friend. Hack stood behind Rory. Before Bess got out more than one sentence of explanation, Whit, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, joined them.

  “Let’s go up to my place.” He told Crash to send the police up if they needed Bess, took her hand, and ushered them into the elevator. Once safely inside his apartment, he locked the doors and offered everyone drinks. Bess opted for coffee, as did Hack and Rory. Whit poured himself a brandy after he flicked the switch on the coffeemaker.

  Bess recounted the story of the break-in.

  “There was a guy disguised as a cop who broke in here?” Hack asked.

  “The police think Terry left something in my apartment and that the guy might be back. They don’t know if he found what he was looking for or not.”

  “You can stay at my place, Bess. I’m living at Hack’s, but still have my digs.”

  “She can stay here with me as long as she likes,” Whit offered.

  Rory shot Hack a smile. “Duh, can’t guess which one she’d choose.”

  “Wait!” Whit shot up from the seat. “Better idea. I’ve got a house in Rye. She can stay there. No one will ever find her there. She’ll be completely safe.”

  “A house? In Rye?”

  “Rye’s only about twenty-five miles away. Yeah. A small, stone cottage right near the beach.”

  “How come you never told me about this?” Bess asked.

  Hack nudged Rory and shot his gaze at the door.

  “Seems to me you’re well cared for, Bess.” Rory pushed to her feet. Hack followed.

  “We’ll be going,” Hack said, heading out.

  “Thank you both for coming. I know it’s late.”

  Rory hugged her friend, took Hack’s hand, and pushed the button for the elevator. The forensics team was already in the apartment, taking samples and dusting for fingerprints. The two pugs had curled up together and were snoring away on Whit’s sectional sofa.

  He stretched out and patted the cushion. “This way we’re here if the police need you.”

  Bess smiled a sleepy yawn and lay down next to him. Whit turned on his side, closed his arms around her, and sighed. Bess cuddled into his embrace, folded one arm under the pillow and the other over his. As heat from his body warmed her, a small sound of contentment passed her lips. Peace surrounded her. Whit’s here. I’m safe.

  Sleep came to both of them for at least an hour before the officers interrupted them. The dogs gave short, half-hearted barks before shutting their eyes again. Bess answered questions, drank more coffee, and then returned to snooze alongside Whit until eight o’clock.

  Chapter Eleven

  While Bess was in her apartment, conferring with the police, Whit called the real estate agent and took the stone house off the market. Then, he sat back, sipping coffee, his feet resting on an ottoman, and stared out the window. He replayed in his head his recent conversation with his therapist, Dr. Sumner, and thought about the question left unanswered when the session ended.

  “Why should I keep the house? I’m never going to use it,” Whit said.

  “Leaving the country, selling a house you love. Sounds like you’ve given up. Like you don’t think you’ll ever have the life you want.”

  “I’ve already given that up. I told you. That isn’t my dream anymore. Not since I was a kid.”

  “You can tell me a hundred times, Whit, but it’s you that you have to convince.”

  “I am convinced. I’ve got that job in Asia coming up. I’ll be living a different kind of life.”

  “Is that the life you want?”

  Silence. Then, “I think so.”

  “If you didn’t want a wife and family, why’d you buy the house?”

  “I told you, for Gemma.”

  “Why didn’t you sell it when you and Gemma broke up?”

  Whit opened his mouth then closed it without uttering a word. The verbal sparring ended. Dr. Sumner had won. Whit had no answer. “I fell in love with that house.”

  “Yet, you’ve never lived in it. Never even finished furnishing it. But never sold it. How come?”

  “That’s a good question. I don’t know.”

  “Our time is up for today. Why don’t you think about that, and we can discuss it next time.”

  Whit had thought about that question repeatedly for days. His reaction to the stone house was out of character. It disturbed him. He was a man who knew what he wanted, went after it, got it, and was satisfied. There was nothing wishy-washy about Whitfield Bass. Yet, here was this house, hanging around, doing nothing except eating up money. And he hadn’t sold it. A rational man would have dumped it long ago. Why didn’t I?

  Now, he was glad he’d hesitated to unload the place. He needed it. Letting Bess live there would help make up for his horrible blunder of allowing the crew to record her. He had felt responsible from the get-go, but he couldn’t find a way to fix his error. Now, he had one. Let her stay there until it’s safe to come home. He smiled. Good thing I didn’t sell it. But I still don’t have an answer for Dr. Sumner.

  He’d be a bit embarrassed to bring her to a house that didn’t even have a kitchen table. If I gave her some money, would she furnish it for me? Why do I need to furnish it, if I’m going to sell it when she leaves? Guess I’m not going to. At least for now. Not while Bess needs it. She can’t live in it empty. He took a deep breath. A sense of satisfaction filled him. Atonement was a wonderful thing.

  Bess would stay with him in New York for a couple of days. She’d sleep with him. He drooled at the idea, smiling at the thought of Bess in his bed.

  And at the house! The mattress there was still wrapped in plastic. He and Gemma had broken up before he could get her onto it. It didn’t even have sheets. Now, he’d christen it with Bess. His groin tightened at the picture in his mind’s eye. Bess naked in bed in t
he stone house. A fire in the bedroom fireplace? He chuckled. Have to buy andirons, a screen, and wood first.

  As his thoughts drifted to a more explicit scene, the door burst open. Bess looked frazzled. Her hair was askew, her lipstick chewed off, and she frowned. “How’s Dumpling?”

  “Fine. Sleeping. When do you want to go out to my house?”

  “I have to spend a couple of days here, taking care of things. They said they’d be finished in the apartment later tonight. I need to get everything straightened up before I go anywhere.”

  “You shouldn’t be there alone.”

  “I won’t. Dumpling’ll be there with me.”

  “No offense, but she wasn’t much help the first time.”

  “It’ll be daytime. I’ll be safe.” She patted his chest.

  “But you’ll be here with me at night?” Whit snaked his arm around her waist.

  “Of course.” She shot him a flirtatious glance. “I need a shower.”

  Whit rounded up a fresh towel, his terry robe, and a washcloth. As she turned on the water, he put up a second pot of coffee.

  * * * *

  Bess’s mind whirled. She cranked up the hot water to wash away cold fear. Someone disguised as a policeman. Terry, what did you do? Why is this happening? This isn’t a movie. This is my life. No job. In danger. Everything is shot to hell. A tremor snaked up her spine.

  Whit. Whit was there. When I needed him, he was there. He’s taking me in. The warmth of his affection and protection swam through her. She turned down the water temperature. Can I rely on him? What about this house? Is it nice? Habitable? Do I have a choice? A quick shudder at the consequences of not leaving town shot through her. She turned off the spray.

  Stepping into his thick, terrycloth robe, being surrounded by his masculine scent, made her needy and comforted at the same time. She rubbed the lapels against her cheeks. Thank God, he doesn’t hate me for slapping him. Gratitude mixed with lust in her veins. She used his hairbrush and brushed her teeth with her finger before joining him in the living room.

  She grabbed a mug of coffee then wrapped the robe tighter against a cool, October breeze.

  “Should I close the window?”

  “I’m okay.”

  Whit came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “How about I keep you warm this way?”

  The touch of his hands and the pressure of him against her sparked desire in Bess. “I was thinking of something else. When do you have to be at work?”

  “Noon.” His breath teased her neck, followed by gentle pressure from his lips as he kissed his way down from her earlobe to her shoulder. Bess closed her eyes. His fingers curled around the lapels of the robe, slowly easing it open. His fingertips skimmed over her skin. “You’re so soft,” he murmured, his lips almost touching her ear.

  His hand closed around her breast, squeezing gently. Bess leaned back against him, stretching her chin up, opening her neck to him. He dove on it like a hungry vampire. His kisses combined with his massage started her motor. Need grew between her legs. She wanted him.

  “Bess, I…” he murmured.

  “Don’t talk. Love me,” she whispered, pulling her sash loose.

  He took her hand and led her into his bedroom. She looked around with curious eyes. It was masculine, like the living room, but stark—not much furniture. A queen-sized bed dominated the space. There were two low, ebony dressers and two matching end tables. A chrome lamp arced high to rest over one side of the mattress. That must be his side.

  The walls were bright white, and the floor polished wood with a plush area rug in a modern black and white design. This room is cold. Not passionate like Whit. Who did this? One black and white etching was mounted to face the bed.

  A chill made her close her robe. “Who decorated this?”

  “I hired someone. It’s serviceable. It works.”

  “Serviceable is about all it is. Brrr. It’s freezing in here.”

  Whit ripped down the black comforter and the white sheet underneath. “I’ll warm you up. Slide in.” He stood back and made a little bow.

  Bess shed her covering, draping it over the bottom of the bed, and climbed in. Whit ripped his T-shirt over his head and unbuttoned his jeans.

  The bedclothes were icy, giving her gooseflesh. Bess rubbed her arms. The gaze from Whit’s gray eyes warmed her. He stared at her, looking her over before placing a knee on the mattress.

  “You’re incredibly beautiful. I hope you know that.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Are you kidding?” He climbed up.

  “I’m a little hippy. Could easily lose ten pounds…fifteen.”

  “Don’t lose an ounce.”

  She shot a skeptical look at him.

  “I like women with meat on their bones.”

  “Couldn’t tell by your dating history.”

  “Best way to stay single. Date women who aren’t marriage-minded and who don’t want to ruin their stick-thin figures with pregnancies.”

  He’s not single. He’s professionally single. What am I doing here? Why do I find him irresistible?

  “That’s enough talking,” he said, bringing his mouth down on hers.

  Bess’s mind shut off. Her senses ruled. Whit tasted good. His tongue danced with hers, possessing her mouth as his body pressed down on her. The hair on his chest tickled her breasts, making her nipples hard. They pushed into his muscles as he lowered himself on top of her.

  Bess raised her hips until they met his. His erection hardened as it was sandwiched between them. She reached for him, running her fingers along the silky skin. He groaned, burying his face in her neck.

  Whit shifted his weight, rolling to the side, and ran his hand down her chest and over her hip, resting it on her thigh. He gripped her hard for a moment then loosened his fingers to slide them to the front. Her body ignited when he touched her core. Heat grew quickly as he explored .

  She smoothed her hands down his back, pushing her fingertips into his muscles slightly. A whiff of pine aftershave mixed with his masculine scent teased her nose. Unable to resist, she closed her lips over his skin, tasting him. The slightly salty flavor pleased her.

  His fingers zeroed in on a sensitive spot. They were relentless. Heat spiraled through her body, coiling tension in her center. Bess bucked her hips up. A low chuckle escaped Whit’s lips as he lifted them from her shoulder. He eased a finger inside her. Bess thought she’d explode. She searched for him, but he had moved his erection away.

  “Uh, uh, uh…naughty, naughty,” he whispered, lowering his lips to her breast, and slipping a second finger into her.

  “Oh, God, Whit. What are you waiting for?”

  “You,” he muttered.

  “No, no, don’t. I want you, now.”

  “But—”

  “Now!” She dug her nails into his back.

  “Ow! I see.”

  “I’m ready to—” But he squashed her words with his mouth. After removing his fingers from her, he glided them over her slippery flesh. Her hips began to move rhythmically. He pushed up on his knees and positioned her legs, resting one on his shoulder. Then, he thrust into her all the way.

  She gasped, clutching his shoulders, her eyes closing. The pleasure was so intense she was afraid she’d burst into tears. “Whit,” she mumbled, unable to move.

  Passion sailed through her, growing sharper, more urgent, with every plunge. The heat increased as he pumped harder and faster. She bit down on his shoulder, moving her hips with his.

  “Baby, baby, baby,” he muttered.

  Sweat broke out on his back and forehead. Bess gripped him as the winding up of tension prepared to snap. A powerful orgasm shot through her like a rocket, stiffening her muscles hard and long before relaxing them, sending pleasure to every part of her body. She cried out his name as her hips undulated.

  He upped his speed before uttering a load groan. Her name flew from his lips as he pounded into her one last time. Then, his head went limp.
He rested his forehead against her neck as he ground to a halt. His tongue snaked out like a frog’s to lick her for a second before he pushed up on his hands.

  Bess could hardly speak. She’d never had a climax of such intensity before. He raised his head, and she saw a warm glow in his eyes. He planted a soft kiss on her lips then her eyelids and each cheek. “Bess, honey.”

  She put her thumb on his lips. She wanted the glow to last, the spell to be unbroken. She combed his hair off his forehead with her fingers and arched her back. She kissed him with all the love in her heart.

  Whit rolled off to the side. He stared at her body, making her shy. She pulled up the sheet.

  “Must you?” He pushed it down just enough to reveal her breasts.

  “You’re staring.”

  “Why not? You’re a work of art.”

  Sensing heat in her cheeks, she lowered her lids, her eyelashes fanning out on her cheeks.

  “The blush is very becoming.”

  “You mean the blush becomes Bess?” She fluttered her lashes and giggled.

  Whit laughed. “Joke all you want. That was Earth-shaking.”

  She nodded, running her finger down his smooth cheek.

  “Like it better shaved?”

  “Like it both ways.” I like you any way I can have you. Not telling you that, though.

  Whit propped himself up on his elbows, freeing his hands. He closed his fingers around her breast. “A good fit. Just right.”

  “Bigger than a model’s?”

  “Oh hell yes. Perfect.” He explored her, rubbing gently against the soft flesh then following with his lips. “I could stay like this forever,” he said.

  Bess ran her fingers through his hair and cupped his head. She leaned forward and kissed the dark, shiny locks, sliding her hand down his neck to his back. “Hold me,” she whispered, sliding down under the covers.

  Whit scooped her into his embrace. “With pleasure.” He covered them with the sheet and comforter before tightening his grip.

  Bess wound her arms around him, snuggling her face into his neck and shoulder. The touch of his bare skin warmed up hers, which had begun to cool. She took a deep breath, inhaling his masculine scent. She wondered if the models who’d dated him had loved the way he smelled as much as she did. Did they wonder what happened when he stopped calling? Did they miss him, or did they replace him first?