Intimate Exposure (6 page)

Vicki eyed him narrowly, suspicion radar pinging. She stabbed the button to raise the privacy barrier again.

“This isn’t a put-up job, is it? Your friend Shanley rigging his own sweepstake?”

Red’s large white teeth gleamed in the subdued lighting of the backseat, and Vicki’s fingers tingled with the silly urge to pummel him like a playground scrapper. He obviously thought the situation was hilarious.

“Mr. Shanley is a man of scrupulous honesty, Vicki.” He paused and quirked a brow at her sound of disbelief. “And I’m his employee, just like you, not his friend. I was in the sweepstake because I was working at Wickham-Drake at the time.”

Too convenient. Too unlikely. But to make a big deal about it would only create friction. For some Machiavellian reason, she and Red had been thrown together on this jaunt, and whether it was Red or his employer who had pulled the strings didn’t change one important issue one iota.

Despite everything, and against her better judgment, Vicki would be a liar if she didn’t admit that on some level she was glad her nemesis was here. Her body at least was thrilled—and already rousing.

It was going to be an interesting drive. Stuck in an enclosed, intimate space for the next couple of hours or so with a man who’d spanked her bottom. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get through it, but starting an argument from the get-go didn’t make any sense.

“Of course. Congratulations on your win,” she said, trying to sound relaxed. “Um…nice to see you again.”

But trying to act normally was hopeless. Time seemed to freeze, and her mind started replaying what had happened in the gymnasium. Hot blushes rioted in her cheeks, but somehow she could not look away from Red’s face.

His remarkable eyes told her everything. Told her he saw what she saw.

And boy, did he look handsome today.

In honor of their deluxe destination and mode of travel, her personal devil was dressed more smartly than she’d ever seen him before. His jacket and trousers were charcoal gray and their fluid, understated cut was obviously from a high-end label. His shirt—left a little open at
the neck—had a soft, expensive luster. He’d had his hair trimmed too. His dark curls were more styled now than when he’d been mooching around at Wickham-Drake, and even his beard was freshly barbered.

He smelled divine. All exotic spices and sharp, fresh citrus.

If you didn’t ruffle me up the wrong way most of the time, you’d be perfect. I’d be all “Hurray! A dream come true, a sexy master
and
a gorgeous hunk.”

When Red smiled, leaned back in the seat and stretched out his long, long legs, a part of her still did shout “hurray!”

“So…” He rubbed his large hand slowly over the soft leather of the seat as if savoring its texture. Maybe comparing it to other textures he enjoyed? “Are we going to dance around what happened and pretend we’re just acquaintances? Or are we going to face it head-on and carry on where we left off?”

His soft voice seemed to thump her solar plexus. She’d been hoping for a more leisurely lead-in. Yes, maybe a bit of a dance around first, rather than a headlong dive into the fray.

But that wasn’t Red’s way, obviously. Why had she ever suspected otherwise? He was forceful, macho, red-blooded. A highly civilized bull who charged straight at the gate of whatever he wanted. No fear, no hesitation, no respect for delicate feelings and temerity in others.

She wanted to resent that but almost felt like applauding it.

Don’t be a wuss, Vick. Admit it. All that bullshit about being happy never to see him again…that’s what it is. Just bullshit. You’ve been dying to get into it with him again.

“I don’t dance round anything, Red,” she shot back. “What happened, happened, and before you say anything, I freely admit that I enjoyed it.” Oh Lord, that wicked mouth of his, the way it curved… “But that doesn’t necessarily mean I want to repeat it. And even if I did, I might not want to repeat it with
you.
”

Liar.

“You’re such a fibber, Vicki.” In a calculated yet vaguely indolent gesture, Red pulled off his spectacles and began to polish them with a crisply laundered handkerchief he flicked out from his breast pocket.

Vicki opened her mouth to contradict him but snapped it shut again. She couldn’t deny what she wanted, and what she wanted was…everything. Everything again, and more. With Red Webster.

But she wasn’t going to lay that out for him. Why bother? He already knew.

“So if not me, then who else?” He filled the pause by setting his glasses back in place, scrupulously folding his handkerchief and slipping it back into his pocket. “Surely not Martin Earnshaw from the Overseas Division? You don’t think he’s up to the job, do you?”

Martin Earnshaw was a man she’d seen briefly a month or two ago. Nice, but too fixated on work, and sexually null and void. There’d been no chemistry at all when the crunch had come, and the only time he’d attempted a fumble had been acutely embarrassing and the catalyst of the end.

But how did Red Webster know about him? It had all been over long before he’d pitched up with his camera, his infuriating smirk and his all-seeing eyes.

“Have you been checking up on me? How the hell do you know I dated Martin, and what business is it of yours?”

“Oh, I know all sorts of things. It’s completely my business.” His smile widened, and for a moment, his tongue flicked along his lower lip. Vicki half expected it to be forked. “I meet a gorgeously beautiful woman. One who’s fiery and spirited and who I can just tell shares
my…shall we say…
special interests.
” He glanced down at his hands and studied the palm of his left one. “Of course I’m going to find out as much about her as I can. Especially when she won’t tell me anything herself…” He hesitated again. “Except, of course, by
accidentally
letting me discover her favorite reading material.”

There was no point arguing the part with him. Apart from the bit about her e-reader, which had been a genuine accident, what had he said that was so wrong?

She
did
share his interests, and if you were interested in someone, you wanted to know more about them. When you fancied someone, it often did make you behave a bit like a stalker. Hadn’t she spent enough time on the internet, trying to trace him to no avail?

So why the hell can’t I find anything out about you, Mr. Webster? What’s your secret?

But had she really searched hard enough? There were ways and means, and she could have gone further. Yet she hadn’t. Maybe she was scared?

Yes, maybe I was too scared to find out about you, because it would mean finding out more about myself?

“Dropping my e-reader on the floor was a bona fide accident,” she said mutinously.

Red cocked his head. Again, she got that impression of some great bird of prey sizing her up, assessing her reactions, gauging her response time. Instinctively calculating.

When he placed his large hand on her arm, she jumped a mile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice was soft, but his hand stayed where it was, his touch light yet powerful. “And I don’t mean to upset you or offend you or do anything you don’t want—don’t
really
want…”

His unusual eyes gleamed behind his spectacle lenses, but there was no threat or challenge in them now. Not for the first time, they were gentle and empathic, hinting at a man who was strong and potent in so many ways, but at heart also kind and humane.

“But we have a chance here, Vicki. A chance to enjoy ourselves for a couple of days. To experiment…” He shrugged. “No strings. No comeback. Just an adventure. How about it? We don’t have to see each other ever again, and afterwards you could tell yourself it was all just a fantasy.”

In spite of everything, Vicki found herself smiling.

Oh, you devil. You’re so seductive.

Yet still she hesitated, despite the sweet lure of him. “I don’t know anything about you. Why should I trust you?”

“What do you want to know? What could I tell you that would persuade you?”

The kind man was still there, but the playful demon had merged with him now. Even if she grilled Red for hours, she had a feeling she wouldn’t get a single straight answer out of him. Not that she could even think of the first question. Befuddled, she stared into the footwell, where his ever-present camera bag was stowed.

“So, Red, how did you first get into photography?” he asked in a singsong, mocking voice, and she glared at him. He grinned back teasingly, and her ire softened in an instant.

“Okay, then…how
did
you first start taking photographs?” she countered, humoring him.

The question, genuine now, seemed to trigger a transformation. A wistful expression passed across Red’s face, and she acknowledged the return of that gentler, more thoughtful man. But it was more than that. There was nostalgia in him, a faint sadness, something like love.

“When I was a little boy, my grandfather showed me a great treasure. He was a keen photographer himself and he had album after album of photos he’d taken over the years. Personal snaps…family groups…” Red was gazing out of the window now, but Vicki sensed he wasn’t
seeing anything except memories, fading yet precious. Like old snapshots that were beginning to lose their context. “He was very protective of them. He hadn’t shown them to anyone in years.” He paused, and his hand tightened against the leather of the seat, knuckles whitening. “But he was dying, and I think he suddenly realized that he didn’t want his photos—or his memories—to be forgotten. He explained to me who everyone was, and he told me about how he’d composed the shots too. He seemed so alive and happy as he spoke, and those people, so long dead, seemed to come alive too.”

“Do you miss him?” The question was redundant. It was obvious he did.

“Yes, I suppose I do. But it was many years ago now. We only had a few weeks, but he showed me all his cameras and explained how they worked, and taught me everything he could, while he still had the strength.”

Red was still a world and a lifetime away, staring at the passing buildings but not seeing them. On impulse, Vicki touched his hand, and he turned to her. His eyes were gleaming again, but in a way she hadn’t seen before. The sheen of tears?

“He sounds like a wonderful man. A kind man.”

“He was,” Red said with wry smile that twisted the corners of his mouth. “He was a tough old bastard, though, and legendary as a ruthless businessman.”

Suddenly he stopped short, and his face hardened and grew wily again. The gentle boy who’d loved his grandfather had somehow disappeared, only to be replaced by the sharp-eyed demon who loved to tease her.

“And since then, no matter what else I’m doing in life, I’ve always taken photographs.” The smile widened, white and insolent. “So, do you trust me a bit more now? Or do I have to tell you all about my misspent schooldays and my first-ever crush?”

Vicki laughed. Her heart seemed to lift as she made a decision. The glimpse behind Red’s mask had made it easy. “No, I’ll pass on school and the crush. Maybe we could save those for small talk over dinner?” She drew in a breath. “But…well…I am in the mood for that adventure. I’ve been working too hard. I feel like some fun, you know?” She stared at him, relishing the return of the game and the chance to strike sparks…fiery red sparks. “I’m probably being a foolhardy idiot…but I’m going to trust you for the time being, Red Webster. Don’t make me regret it.”

A look of pure joy crossed his face. He was a devious man, but even he couldn’t have faked that glow, and Vicki was struck again how infinitely expressive his face was, in spite of his dark beard. A shiver of something serious passed through her. She daren’t put a name to it, but it made her shake.

“Are you okay?” His fingers tightened on her arm. “You’re trembling.”

“It’s all right. I’m fine. I’m just wondering…um…wondering…”

“You’ve made the right decision, Vicki.” His smile was mischievous now, but not in an annoying way, not anymore. That devilish smirk was promising. Exciting. Arousing.

“Shall we celebrate?” He leaned forward and popped a catch to reveal a discreetly concealed drinks cabinet. Not giving her time to gainsay him, he fished out a split of champagne and two narrow flutes.

Vicki couldn’t help checking her watch. “At ten-thirty in the morning?”

Even so, the decadence of boozing so early was somehow appropriate.

“This is a fantasy, remember?” With the deftness of someone who drank champagne all the time, Red eased the cork, filled both flutes and handed one to her without losing a drop.
“Here’s to our experiment…our adventure.” He clicked his glass to hers and waited, the epitome of good manners, until she took the first sip.

The wine was sublime, crisp and light yet almost buttery in its richness on the tongue. It was probably the finest champagne she’d ever tasted, and as a distraction, she glanced at the bottle. To her surprise, it bore no label.

“What is this? Something from the almighty Shanley’s private reserve?”

Red took a swig of champagne himself, then ran his tongue slowly over his lip again, this time in obvious appreciation. “Yes, it is, actually. The guy appreciates the finer things in life.”

His glowing eyes were intent. He wasn’t really talking about vintage champagne at all. When he blinked, just once, behind his glasses, Vicki had to hide a dreamy smile. His lashes were obscenely long and lush for such a large and macho man.

Uh-oh, it’s happening again…

She took a long pull at the champagne, her mouth suddenly dry. Reality was shifting around her, just as it had done in the gym. The mirror world of the game was opening up again, and the power play was about to begin.

If it hadn’t begun already.

Red took the glass from her hand and set it aside with his in the small inset drinks cabinet. For a moment he just looked at her, his head tilted as was his habit when he seemed to be reading her.

“Touch your breast,” he said quietly, locking her gaze with his.

Vicki swallowed, longing for more champagne. She cupped her breast, thumb lightly resting against the nipple. She was wearing a cotton jersey cardigan, a camisole and a thin, light bra, and through them she could feel the tiny crest, as hard to the touch as a fruit stone.