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“I’ve never been interested in casual affairs,” she confided. “But it’s desperately difficult to really connect with someone.”
His smile turned teasing. “That all depends. How am I doing?”
She hadn’t imagined Jeremy could be so charming, and it was easy to respond truthfully. “Very well, actually. I just need a little time. I hear footsteps on the stairs, so I better find the cards.”
She rose with her usual grace, and Jeremy licked his lips rather than drool. Her ruffled pinafores hid the length of her legs, but he couldn’t wait to have them wrapped around him. But for now, he was happy just to keep her company.
The foursome played gin rummy until they could no longer count the spots on the cards. Then they made a last check of doors and windows for leaks and, finding none, treated themselves to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with apple juice.
Darcy was relieved to have made it through the day with no major disasters, but even cradled beneath a blanket in Griffin’s arms on the couch, she couldn’t doze off while the wind slammed the eucalyptus tree against the roof with strange syncopated thumps.
Griffin shifted positions so often it was clear he wasn’t resting comfortably either. While opposite them, Christy Joy, who hadn’t invited Jeremy into her own bed, was nevertheless stretched out beside him on the rug. The pair had barely finished arranging their blankets and pillows before they’d fallen asleep.
When Griffin leaned around her to put out the last candle, Darcy whispered, “I haven’t stayed up this late since college.”
“It’s been a while since I partied until dawn too,” Griffin added.
“I was up studying,” she emphasized. “Have you ever had to work hard to learn anything?”
After a long silence, he confided softly, “I’m not much of a cook.”
Darcy clamped her hand over her mouth rather than laugh and wake their companions. “You can read, that’s all cooking requires.”
“There’s a lot more to it than simply assembling ingredients. That’s why some chefs are better than others. They rely on an originality and flair that I lack.”
“Is that your only flaw?”
He hugged her tight. “The only one I’ll admit.”
For the remainder of the night, they teased each other with softly spoken questions and entertaining, if not downright silly, replies. When the rising sun finally lit the apartment with a pale yellow glow, the wind and rain were gone, and the water had begun to recede in the alleys and streets.
Anxious to check on his own home, Griffin coaxed Darcy to her feet. “Let’s take the day off to allow the last of the water to run into the sea, and work straightening up here tomorrow. By then the power ought to be back on, and the clean-up will be a whole lot easier.”
Christy Joy was already awake and, hearing their voices, she rolled out of her tangled blanket and led them out to the stairs. “Jeremy doesn’t look as though he’ll wake before noon, so taking today off is fine with me. I’ll call George, the clerks and the kids to let them know we won’t be needing them today. Why don’t you two go on home?”
Darcy had seldom heard a better suggestion, but when Griffin walked her to her door, he followed her right inside. “Grab some of your lacy lingerie and a change of clothes. You’re coming home with me.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Neither of us got any sleep last night, and—”
“That’s all we’ll do then,” he promised, but when they reached his house and found the hill still had power, they made a detour through his spacious shower.
This time Griffin shampooed Darcy’s hair, but when she began to spread soapy foam over his chest, she inspired the predictable erotic result. “Looks like you’ve got more than sleep on your mind after all,” she responded.
“I would have been fine if you’d just kept your hands to yourself.”
“Around you? Never.” But she had to grab for his shoulders as he lifted her off her feet. Parting her thighs, he entered her with a single, slick slide, and she wound her legs around his hips to hang on. Steam billowed around them, as though they were making love in a warm, spice-scented cloud.
He kissed her deeply and slid a hand between them to rub her in time with his thrusts. Riding that shimmering thrill, she bent her head to nip at his shoulder. He quickly caught her mouth again and shoved her back against t
he tile. For a long, breathless moment, he held her hips still, then with a final deep lunge, he carried her along with him into a release so intense he had to grab for the shower head to remain on his feet.
Also overwhelmed with an aching pleasure, Darcy slid from his embrace, left the shower enclosure and caught a thick velour towel on her way to bed. Still dripping wet, she flopped across the towel and, with no more than a satisfied moan, fell asleep.
Equally sated, Griffin paused to rinse off the soap bubbles before leaving the shower. He wrapped a black towel around his hips, then hesitated at the doorway. He planned to join Darcy for a very long nap and then start over right where they’d left off, but first, he had to check for messages from Interpol.
Just as he’d suspected, they were provoked with him for not remaining in contact, but he refused to offer what would have been a totally insincere apology. His monitor filled with a photo-montage of the woman who had introduced herself as Adriana LeMer in Chicago. Some were posed, as she was indeed a haute couture model, while others were candid shots taken in a variety of European cities.
Only the last photo interested Griffin, for it showed her walking along a Paris street hand-in-hand with Lyman Vaughn. He didn’t need any further interpretation from Interpol’s experts to recognize Simon Jordan and Lyman Vaughn were one and the same.
