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She stood up and took several steps away as he started clicking through several tabs of information in the security software.
She watched his rough hands move the mouse, then type quickly on the keyboard, back and forth, back and forth. Windows with different views of the property opened, and he murmured something. She missed it.
She was too busy squirming under the weight of desire he’d lit in her. Big and rough, quick and fast. That was exactly how she liked it. Prolonging sex before you climax? It sounded like a nightmare, and she wasn’t totally convinced it was fun for anyone but him.
But she had two weeks to find out.
17
The rain fell relentlessly, drenching the blacktop of the Cavendish driveway as Ryder sat behind the wheel of the Mercedes Benz. He was glad to find the club had at least one car in their fleet of golf carts. He hadn’t wanted to ferry all the women in one of the two-seater golf carts in the downpour.
It was just past two in the afternoon, but the clouds made it look even later.
He watched Nita escort the European models—Mags and her two friends, Yasmin, and Heena—through the front gate of Cavendish to the waiting limo out on the street.
She scurried around the tall women, her hunter green polka-dot dress and plastic raincoat flaring and bobbing as she tried to keep the three women under her matching plastic umbrella.
He chuckled as he watched. The women who were so tall, she had to stretch her arm straight up, letting the rain pelt her while the Amazonians stayed relatively dry. At least their heads stayed dry, which were the only things the umbrella really covered.
The limo driver hurried around to open the rear door and Nita hovered while the long-legged models climbed in. Nita leaned in to speak to Mags. Mags was an undeniable sensual beauty. She talked with excitement and Nita nodded in that way that told him the model was blown away by the whole bio-haptics test and showering Nita and Cavendish with compliments.
In her bent-over position, Nita’s flared skirt rose, exposing muscular calves in fishnet stockings. She also walked on any kind of surface in nose-bleed-high shoes, which was an impressive feat. As he looked at the heels, he wondered how she could stand on her toes all day. No wonder her calves looked so toned.
She straightened and waved goodbye when she was jerked down again. Mags impulsively hugged her, stepping one elegant boot out of the car to do so.
Those women combined were like a walking billboard for couture sex. Yet ever since he first saw Nita that morning, he hadn’t been able to stop looking at her.
She was different from any other woman he’d met. Physically, she had a classic hourglass-shaped figure with the tiniest waste, which differed from the slim but shapeless women he went for. But more than that was her confidence and sass. And the lofty goal she had to become a lawyer. Now that he thought about it, he rarely knew what any of the women he had sex with did for a living. He was never interested enough to ask.
No, Nita definitely had a strange… vibrancy was the only word he could think to describe her. She was calm and composed, but she vibrated with an electric current of passion he didn’t understand.
No, you just don’t understand it in a woman, he corrected himself. Because he could certainly relate to feeling that passion for his work, for knife forging, and for being a father.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for Nita to finish with the models. To kill time, he ran through his internal security checklist of things to do. Top of that list were the cameras.
Checking them, he found that half were out of commission. He reviewed video footage from the last twenty-four hours, but found nothing to do with the fence breach, not that any cameras were positioned nearby. Then he reviewed all the footage, also finding nothing. It was plodding work, but it gave him a sense of restoring balance to an imbalanced situation, one check mark at a time.
“Good Lord, super models are so extra,” Nita complained when she plopped into the Benz’s passenger seat.
He watched her get settled, untying the straps of the plastic hat that didn’t fully cover her damp hair, then wiping away the rain that clung to her raincoat. She let out an exhausted sigh.
“Those last ones took longer than the first two,” he commented, waiting for the wrought-iron gate to clang closed before putting the car in gear.
“Well, that’s the primary client, and she is really into the bio-haptics part of the process. She asked if she could get retested in six months just for the hell of it,” Nita said, sinking back into the seat.
Ryder steered the car up the drive, heading to the security facility. He glanced at Nita beside him. She fiddled with the collapsed umbrella by her feet.
There was a question on his mind, one that had been nagging at him ever since he’d come to terms with her chosen career.
“Can I ask you something?” he began.
“Sure,” she replied, slipping her arms out of the plastic raincoat, then twisting in her seat to lay it in the back.
He thought about how to phrase his question so it wouldn’t sound like an insult, then got impatient that he even cared.
“How do you rationalize being a lawyer, but also working at a place like Cavendish? I don’t know Washington State law, but I’m pretty sure trading sex for money is still prostitution in this state.”
She raised an eyebrow at him as she smoothed out the dark green fabric of her skirt. He expected a snippy response, but she leaned back in her seat, considering his question.
