Sweetest Taboo (SIN 3)

I see the heat flare in his eyes and bite my lip in anticipation of round two. He reaches down, and though I expect a sensual touch, he surprises me by closing his hand over mine.

"I want to know what put that look in your eye when I came into the apartment. What did Joel tell you? Are our shenanigans wreaking havoc with the financing?"

I grin at the word "shenanigans," but have to nod. "Joel says he'll handle it. Apparently Lyle has some issues. Apparently they're with us."

"You met him, right?"

I nod. "Yeah. We got along great."

"So talk to him now. This movie is important to you?"

"You know it is."

"Then go after it. Don't wait for Joel to work it out. You want Tarpin, go after him."

I consider that. "I am good at going after men that I want," I say in a teasing voice. "I went after you and got you, didn't I?"

He chuckles, and I feel the vibration rumble through me. "Yeah, well you already had me. I was just in denial. So were you, for that matter."

"Until I decided I couldn't live without you."

"Well, go to Los Angeles and do the same with Tarpin. Except," he adds with a wry grin, "not exactly the same."

"You'll come with me?"

"Baby," he says, flipping me over so that I'm on my back and caged between his arms. "I'm always with you."

I haven't owned it long--only since I sold the film rights to my book and started to write the screenplay--but my LA home is one of my favorite places. It's situated just off Mulholland Drive, and I love the way the back of the house is mostly glass with a view of the hills and the city below.

It's always full of light, and the yellow walls and the bright photographs that I've hung in the bedroom make it so cheerful, that I inevitably smile whenever I wake up here, and today is no exception. Especially since Dallas is here with me.

Except he's not actually here.

We'd managed to catch the last flight out last night, and had arrived at the house at just before midnight California time, which is three in the morning in New York. We'd gone straight to bed and I'd fallen asleep in his arms. I'd expected to wake up that way, and now I look toward the bathroom, but there's no sign of him there, either.

The bedroom door is ajar, however, and I hear the soft murmur of words. I frown, wondering who's in the apartment, then I realize he's on the phone.

"I haven't heard from him, either," Dallas says. "I know. I'm worried, too."

There's a pause, and then he says, "You know Colin, Mom. He probably took off with some buddy and is in the middle of the Caribbean on a yacht trying to close some sort of deal."

I wince. Because, of course, Colin is about as far away from a sun-soaked yacht as you can possibly get.

He ends the call before I get out of bed, and by the time I'm done in the bathroom he's finishing another call. "All right, sounds good," he's saying as I walk into the room. Then he slips his phone in his pocket and smiles at me. "Good morning, beautiful."

"Good morning, yourself," I say, sliding into his arms. He's already showered and dressed in jeans and a pale green T-shirt that brings out his eyes. He smells like soap, and I breathe deep. "I heard you talking to Mom."

His smile downshifts to a frown. "She's still trying to get in touch with Colin. She's starting to get worried."

"Yeah, she would."

"Adele's concerned, too," he continued. "She called about ten minutes before Mom did."

Immediately, I tense.

"Jane," he says tenderly. "There's nothing--"

"I know." I snap the words at him, though the truth is I'm mostly annoyed at myself. I step back out of his arms under the pretense of getting coffee; I feel silly about my reaction, and don't want him to notice how tense Adele's name makes me.