Though Patrick had wanted to chase after Nikki immediately, he couldn’t. He didn’t feel good about leaving East’s house without someone there to supervise. The guests weren’t exactly the rowdy, untrustworthy types, but still. A quick call to East’s cell had yielded only voicemail, as it did when he called an hour later.
Whatever East was up to, he didn’t want to be disturbed.
“Bastard,” Patrick said under his breath, giving a cheery goodbye to a departing druid priestess and her date, who appeared to be a cartoon character of some sort. Goodbyes made him happy. He wanted everyone to just go so he could go, too.
Which was why, at eleven-fifteen, he decided he’d had enough. People were not getting the hint and he was tired of kindly insisting people leave now to “beat the crowd.”
He switched off the music and waited for conversation to die down. Didn’t happen. He tried whistling on his fingers to get people to notice him. No go. Finally, he whacked the skeleton attached to a length of rope across the ceiling, sending it flying across the living room with a blood-curdling scream.
That worked.
“Sorry about the interruption, folks.” Patrick flashed a genial smile as a sea of displeased faces turned his way. “But now that I have your attention…”
By twenty minutes to midnight, the last of the guests had been ushered out. He did a quick tidying up job and ran out to his car, determined to get to Nikki’s house with a few moments to spare. Luckily she only lived a few miles away in a charming neighborhood with old-fashioned lamp posts, beautiful gardens and more wicker gliders on porches than he could count. Nikki’s home didn’t have a porch or a glider, but she did have a slightly menacing jack-o-lantern perched beside the front door on what appeared to be an old milk jug. He turned his head at the tinkle of wind chimes. Dancing glow-in-the dark skeletons swayed in the breeze.
Shaking his head, he reached for the doorknob. He had to fumble for it in the darkness and nearly bumped his head on the clutch of dried flowers spilling out of a purple bat-shaped container on the door. He grinned in spite of his sudden rush of nerves.
Nikki Carson clearly had a thing for Halloween. Just like his deceptive jerk of a younger brother.
Before thoughts of how East was spending his evening invaded his brain yet again, Patrick opened the door. And stepped into a pile of candy corn.
If it hadn’t been for all the lit things all over, he would never have seen the trail left for him. There was no doubt the candy led somewhere. Preferably right to Nikki’s luscious naked body.
He glanced at his watch and turned on the light on the side. Eleven fifty-two. Cutting it close.
His smile returned as he carefully made his way down the hall, sidestepping the triangles of sweet goodness that would lead him to glory. Unless she flipped out at his identity and sent him packing. But he chose not to dwell on that possibility. He’d just calmly enter her bedroom, assuming that was where she wanted him to end up, and state his case.
I’m not Easton, your boss. So, you know, if you were fulfilling some naughty boss-secretary fantasy and hoped one day I’d paddle you while you bent over my desk, sorry, not happening. If you wouldn’t mind stretching out to sunbathe on a steamy roof, however, maybe we could get some hot workplace action going just the same…
The smile forming on his face disappeared the instant he followed the meandering candy path through the kitchen and ended up in a darkened hallway that smelled of vanilla and rose. Women’s scents. Potpourri maybe, or fancy soaps. She was here, waiting for him. Probably pissed he’d taken so damn long.
He’d have to make it up to her. He grinned. Thoroughly.
Patrick made himself take a step, then another, until he reached the partially open doorway at the far end of the hallway. The scents of vanilla and caramel wafted out to him, and he gulped in a breath as he crossed the threshold.
Even before he’d begun to take in the spacious bedroom, her husky voice trailed over his skin and curled sinuous fingers of lust around his growing hard-on. “I’d put this away,” she said, bringing his gaze to where she sprawled on her enormous bed, her fingers stuck in a jar of something. “But then I was hungry and bored and needed something to do other than touching myself all night. Because, really, that can get old.”
While he watched, his heart drumming in his chest, she licked what looked like thick brown cream off her thumb. “Caramel,” she explained. “The good stuff. Bought it for apples. Then I started thinking of all its other uses…”
Somehow, somehow, he’d only vaguely glimpsed that she’d undone the closure at her waist and freed her breasts. His gaze had shot to her face and stayed there, but now he saw what he’d missed. Her curves shone in the triangle of moonlight beaming through the window and her sleek dark hair gleamed across her pillow. Shadows and secrets highlighted the intriguing peaks and valleys of her body, drawing him closer like a crooked finger and
a whispered promise. The dabs of caramel crowning each perfectly round breast taunted him. Beckoned him to touch and taste and devour.
But he couldn’t. Not until she knew who he was. For certain. This time he’d come clean and if she asked him to leave, so be it.
At least he’d have a fantasy to jerk off to until the misery faded.
“Nikki, I’m not who you think,” he began, prepared to recite his little speech no matter what.
But that no matter what hadn’t included Nikki setting aside her caramel and rising from the bed in one fluid motion. She strolled closer to him and reached up to stroke his cheek, her fingers playing over the thin scar on his jaw.
His breath caught. She knew. She had to know. She’d seen Easton so many times, and she was touching the very spot that would give away his identity. Thin, but ridged, a scar like that didn’t pop up overnight. A woman who pored over decorating magazines and fiddled with details like Nikki wouldn’t have missed it.
But instead of gasping in shocked indignation, she only reached for the belt of his costume. He hadn’t removed it yet, not wanting to take the time. Apparently Nikki had no problem doing the honors.
She leaned up as close as she could to his ear. “I want you to get this off and get on the bed.”
Breathing—and thinking—were becoming an exercise in futility. “Nikki, wait. We need to discuss this.”