Page 88 of Silver-Tongued Devil
She waited a few seconds for the words to appear on her screen.
Only if they don’t sell. Got to go. Sending car back for you.
She laughed out loud. Theywouldsell. She knew they would, at least she knew it in this moment. And when she didn’t, when she doubted…
Your work is exceptional.That’s what Elizabeth had said.
Every day is a gift. Every minute.That’s whatshe’dsaid. That was what mattered.
She didn’t see Blake again until five o’clock. Until he walked in the front door of another enormous house, this one in Portland’s Northwest district, home to more singles per capita than anyplace else in the world, or maybe that was just how it seemed. Another house made of wood and glass, with floor-to-ceiling windows, a whole lot of deck, and mountain views to die for. Not to mention a master bedroom with a bed that…
Well. In any case, when Blake walked through the front door and into his living room, she had a glass of red wine in her hand and another one on the coffee table. She was also lying back on a much nicer leather couch than the one in his Idaho house. And wearing his silk robe.
She waved her glass at him. “Hi, hot shot. How was your day? Did you make a million dollars?”
His eyes were gleaming, a grin forming on his absolutely bitable lips. “Well, yeah, wild thing. Probably so.” He set his laptop bag down on a chair, then took his jacket off and tossed it, too.
“Because I only go out with very rich men,” she informed him. “I’m a successful artist.”
He was getting rid of his boots and socks. “That so.”
“Sadly,” she said with a sigh, “I had to tear up this check I got today. It was a really big one, too. I deposited another one, though. I bought averyexpensive bottle of wine with it. I just need somebody to drink it with me.”
“I think I could oblige.” He was crossing the floor toward her now across all that expanse of living room. Limping, but not as badly as he had a couple days ago.
“Also,” she said, “I borrowed this robe. I need to return it.” She put a hand on either side of the silk robe and slowly pulled it open, making the moment last.
Blake stopped walking.
She stood up, let the robe fall off her shoulders, and tossed it onto the coffee table. “There’s your robe. And here’s your wine.” Then she sank back down onto the couch, leaned back against the arm, and took another sip. “Why don’t you come have a drink?”
They didn’t go out to dinner.
Blake was wearing the robe now. He’d had to put something on when the pizza guy came. He had his leg up on the coffee table, icing his knee again. He’d put a little too much strain on it, but what a way to go.
Dakota, on the other hand…
Dakota was wearing one absolutely devastating pair of black lace panties with a scallop-edged back, a tiny cluster of pearls nestled at the bottom of the v-shaped front, and, best of all, a black seam running down the middle. A seam that Blake had traced all the way around, rubbed into her, and generally had just way too much fun with before he’d taken that scrap of black lace off her and showed her what he was there for.
Yeah. Dakota was dressed for dinner. Because that was all she was wearing. And if there was anything sexier than a nearly naked Dakota, all long dark hair and bronzed skin, silver winking from her navel and her toenails painted red, eating cheesy pizza and drinking a little too much red wine on his couch, he couldn’t imagine what it would be.
She was saying something, though, so he did his best to focus. “What if Elizabeth finds out you were, I meanwewere sleeping together? There goes my beautiful showing. Did you think of that before you dropped by?”
He took another bite of pizza. Damn, that was good. Kale salad was fine, but pizza was better. And if it came from Lovely’s Fifty Fifty, it was the best. “Nope. And it doesn’t matter. If she does—whenshe does—she’ll think about how I looked at you and what a horn dog I was, and think I tracked you down and went after you. Which would be about right. She’ll think she set us up. What a mismatch, she’ll say. The artist and the roughneck.”
“You are not a roughneck.”
He looked at her and grinned, and she said, “All right. Maybe you do a good job of pretending. A little over the top, wouldn’t you say? ‘At Home Depot, they wear aprons, so you can tell who’s a clerk?’ Not to mention, ‘Bare’s good, but sometimes you want to dress her up a little?’ You sounded like a barbarian. And you do not have a house in Hawaii. Plus, you called my orchid a pussy.”
“I did not. I carefully broke off. Besides, I meant in agoodway. And sorry, darlin’, but I do so have a house in Hawaii. On Kauai, if you want to know. It’s got bare walls, too. Good bones and great skin, just as pretty as it can be, and it looks fine naked, exactly like somebody I know. But it’d sure be fun to dress her up a little, and I intend to do it. Which reminds me—pay attention, sugar, because this is a segue—that I’d like to take you shopping tomorrow.”
“I already bought my glass. I had to celebrate somehow. I mean, besides the wine and this little item from La Perla, which I notice you appreciate.”
“Oh, yeah. I thought I made that clear. I plan to appreciate you some more later on, too. My bed’s a four-poster. You notice that?”
“I’m trying to have a conversation here.” But her nipples had pebbled. That was the beauty of having dinner with a naked woman. You got all your signals straight-up. “I went wild,” she went on determinedly. “At Bullseye. That’s the glass place, and oh, Blake.” She sighed. “It’s so good when you can have exactly what you want.”
“I noticed.” He dipped his finger into his glass of wine, painted one taut brown peak with it, then did the other. He did some tasting, andoh,yeah. She was lying back, her fingers in his hair, and he had her going again.
