Reese: The Untamed

Slipping his hands into his pockets, Reese kept on watching her as he rested his backside against the car. As much as he enjoyed her overt flirting, her unstudied reactions charmed him on a whole different level. Removing his key ring from one pocket, he held it to his chest. “Beth, it’s time.”

“Time for what?”

Rattling his keys, he tossed the ring into the air. “To drive one. Catch.”

She caught the keys somewhere near her knees. Staring at them, she adjusted the strap of her evening bag before she stood up and looked up. “Are you serious?”

“Only if you’ll drive it with the top down,” he said, taking her evening bag and setting it in the back seat.

She pulled in a slow, deep breath as a smile grew on her face. “Now?”

“Now. I love that word. It has such an immediate feel to it,” he said, as he opened the car door and helped her into the driver’s seat. By the time he’d walked around the car and gotten in on the passenger side, she’d inserted the key, started the engine and was wrapping her fingers around the walnut gear-shift knob. “Are you always this eager for a new adventure?” he asked, as he connected his seat belt.

She pumped the gas once and the purring engine roared with promise. “I am since I met you.”

Adjusting the hem of her dress on her thigh, she shifted smoothly, then eased off the clutch. As the convertible rolled to the end of the lit driveway, her hair was already lifting in the breeze. Looking left, then right, she gunned the motor to a ripping roar this time. Her eyes brightened and a smile flashed across her face at the animal sound. “Ready?”

“Ready,” he said, giving her a thumb’s-up.

A shot of adrenaline buzzed through his veins as she pulled out of the driveway and headed toward the main road. Easing back in the passenger seat, he let out a hopeful sigh. With Beth Langdon beside him he could legitimately excuse himself from any more business talk with Duncan for tonight. Good friend or not, Duncan had to get the message soon. Reese was not going to the United States to sell his champagne. At least, not this year, when Harrison Montgomery was claiming half the sound bites on CNN. Reese rubbed his face in quiet frustration. The senator’s familiar image was everywhere these days, but there was one place he could happily escape it. Turning his attention to the woman beside him, he smiled.

With her hair whipping around her head in a wild halo of spun gold, she smiled back. Her fresh, unstudied reaction delighted him beyond reason. He didn’t know a thing about her, except that she appeared not to have a care in the world. And suddenly he was sharing that sentiment.

“How does it feel?” he asked, as enchanted with her as she was with the car.

“Like heaven on wheels,” she said, competently shifting down when a service van pulled out from a side road in front of them.

As she slowed the Jaguar, Reese angled his body toward her. He hadn’t seen anyone enjoy the simple act of driving a car as much as she was. She alternately stroked the wheel with her thumb and glided her palm along its curve. He imagined that same smile on her as a teenager with her first car. In typical American tradition, she’d probably named it.

When she began lightly tapping her fingers on the steering wheel impatiently, he nudged the side of her thigh. “Time to make a move, Beth.”

She gave him a quick questioning look, then returned her gaze to the road. “What do you mean?”

“It’s pretty much a straightaway for several miles.” He leaned closer, resting his hand on his knee near the gear shift. “Pass the van. I’ll watch you.”

Maneuvering the car a foot to the left, she checked up the road for oncoming traffic.

“Clear?”

“I can see all the way to Italy,” she said teasingly. Holding her hair away from her face, she added, “Now?”

Reese braced his hand on the dash close to the gearshift knob. “Now.” She steered the car smoothly into the opposite lane. “Excellent.” Glancing down the road, he could see a set of headlights cresting over a rise. “You’re fine, just give it more gas.”

Her chin rose a fraction of an inch, the only sign of her increased concentration. He could sense her excitement and rode with it like a tail wind. “A little faster.” At that moment the service van driving beside them began speeding up. Wrapping her hands more firmly around the knob, she stepped into the clutch, pulled back on the stick and missed the gear. The approaching car blinked its headlights in warning. His first instinct was to take over. “Get ready on the clutch,” he said, attempting to remove her hand from the knob.

“Trust me. I’ve got it,” she said, her voice steady, determined, her grip sure.

In that tense and vital moment, he found himself ignoring his first impulse. Something deep inside told him to let go. To trust her. He did, and a second later, she maneuvered the stick into gear, pressed down on the accelerator and slipped the car back into their lane ahead of the van. With only seconds to spare, the oncoming car whizzed passed them.

Several wordless moments passed, with only the purring motor and his thumping heart filling the silence. “Ange polisson, you give a wild ride,” he said, before bowing his head in slightly exaggerated relief. After a respectful moment, he made the sign of the cross, then looked at her with mischief in his eyes. “I feel as if we should be sharing a cigarette.” Before she could respond, he pointed to a restaurant sign partially hidden in shrubbery a short way up the road. “The answer to my prayers. We’re here.”

Pulling into the parking lot, she parked the car and removed the key. Tucking the key ring into his hand, she closed her warm fingers over his fist.

“Ange pollison? What exactly does that mean?”

“Naughty angel.”

“Well, this naughty angel thanks you for making one of her fantasies come true.” She smiled. “She owes you one.”

Over the past few days he’d been gathering a number of adjectives to describe his mystery lady, but they all fell in line behind his newest revelation. Spirited. Beth Langdon just might be the one to help him out of his bind with Duncan. He watched as she unhooked her seat belt, then turned to face him. Planting a hand on the edge of his seat, she leaned closer. Her lips shimmered in the parking-lot light.

“Didn’t scare you, did I?”

As much as he was tempted to lean over and kiss that smug little smile from her face, he wasn’t going to. Not until the plan forming in his mind was clear to him. Shaking his head, he touched one of her diamond ear clips, then traced the curve of her cheek to the corner of her mouth. “I don’t know a damned thing about you. Why you followed me, where you’re from, anything about your background—”

“Is background important to you?”

He held her gaze steady with his, but didn’t say anything for several seconds. “About that game you were playing with me last night at the casino—”

“The game I won?” she asked, cutting in again.

He shook his head once. “I’m not talking about roulette.”

“You’re not?”

“No, mon ange polisson,” he said, moving his fingertip over her lips. “When you play roulette, you play against the house. I want to know about the game you were playing with me.” Curving his hands around her rib cage, he urged her closer. “The one you’re still playing.”

“Why?” she asked, running her fingers through his curly hair, then spilling it over his forehead. “Because you don’t want to play with me?”

“I do. I just want to know the rules.”

Her hand suddenly stilled. “There aren’t any. But if you insist, we’ll make them up as we go along.”

“And then…?” He prompted her with a nod.

She didn’t respond.

Beneath his curved hands her heart began beating faster. He was definitely getting under her skin. “Then, Beth,” he said, “we’ll break them. Every one of them.” She opened her mouth, but before she could protest he added, “Starting now.” Pulling her close, he kissed her until she groaned. He was certain the sound had its origins in heaven. Shifting in his arms, she plowed her fingers into his hair and began to kiss him back.

Three

National security be damned; she wasn’t sharing this discovery with anyone. Reese Marchand was a brilliant kisser.

Catching her by surprise with a series of masterful tongue strokes, Reese had taken her from a gasp to a groan in seconds. Tingling sensations streamed straight from his mouth to every erogenous zone on her body. Without warning he gentled his advance to nibbling her lips, then just as quickly went back to lavishing his expert attention in the moist warmth beyond them. Shivering against the delicious intrusion, she fleetingly wondered how any woman could not respond to such thoroughness.

Of course, self-control was possible, but with the soft pressure of his hands around her rib cage, highly questionable. His light hold had somehow turned into a teasing challenge to come closer. But that wasn’t going to happen. For the sake of her goal, she had to find a way out of this deepening maze of desire…just as soon as Reese stopped that nibbling he’d started again. Lord, help her. He was turning her into little more than a traitorous mass of dewy flesh.

His thorough and relentless technique had her toes and fingers curling, and she realized the only way she could straighten them was to return the pleasure. Generously. That still didn’t account for her ending up on the other side of the console and in his lap when they finally broke for air.

His deadpan look toward the empty driver’s seat and then to her in his lap ended in a slow, shared smile. Her hands drifted out of his hair and down to his chest. Beneath the fine pleats of his shirtfront she felt the pleasant definition of muscle, the steady thump of his heartbeat and the heat she’d help to generate. Without a doubt, he was the most handsome, most masculine, most desirable man she’d ever laid eyes or hands on.

As their connected gazes intensified, she knew she couldn’t help herself; she had to touch his lips again. As she traced her own moisture on them, he captured her finger in a quick, soft bite. The moment lingered between them, rich and heavy with promise. Before releasing her finger, he flicked his tongue over the tip of it, and it seemed over other parts of her, as well. If he only knew what he was doing to her…she pressed her thighs together.

“I believe we broke two rules that time, Miss Langdon.”

“I believe we did, Mr. Marchand,” she said, as her body absorbed the vibration of his rumbling whisper. Was she supposed to fit so snugly, so comfortably against his solid flesh? Was the seduction of Reese Marchand supposed to feel this good?

Reaching up, he looped a lock of her hair around his finger, then stroked it across his cheek. “Shall we try for three?”

Was it necessary to indulge him this one more kiss? Was it wise to indulge herself? More questions were tumbling in, but she put them all out of her mind. As she brought her face close to his, the words rolled off her tongue. “I was just going to suggest that.”

Her brushing kisses melted into one long and sumptuous move that left her mind spinning. Lifting her lips from his, she began to pull back. She was becoming entirely too pleased with herself and that had to stop. Now. Because there was such a thing as too much—

“Four?” he whispered.

“Four,” she whispered, dipping her head again to swirl her tongue over his lips and into his mouth. Feeling the ridge of arousal pressing against her bottom, she twisted in his embrace and boldly deepened the kiss. As he began to squirm beneath her, any doubts about the wiseness of her act scattered in a hot haze of wanting and needing.

Without warning, a masculine voice sounded beside the car.

“If you two would quit making a spectacle of yourselves…”

Their eyes slowly opened to each other’s. In a mirrored move, their foreheads touched before they turned their gazes toward the speaker. Beth recognized the tall, good-looking man as Reese’s friend from the casino.

“This is Duncan Vanos, Beth,” Reese said. “A good friend with bad timing.”

“Hello, Duncan.” She tried for an inconspicuous tug at her hem, but only succeeded in bringing both men’s attention to her bare thigh. Playing the femme fatale in private was one thing, but cavorting like a human pretzel in a public parking lot was insane. Her spirits sank as she looked for an easy and modest way to return to the driver’s seat. Putting toothpaste back into a tube would be easier. She was stuck in Reese’s lap for the duration.

“No need to get up,” Duncan said, as a goodhumored smile spread across his face.

Without missing a beat, Reese continued. “And the lovely lady standing several discreet meters behind him is his business associate, Isabella Minelli.”

Beth managed a small wave that ended in a casual rearrangement of her hair. “Hello.” If she’d been caught sitting in anyone’s lap other than Reese’s, she would be speechless with embarrassment. Perhaps it was his humor or the relaxed way his hand rested on her hip, but his very nearness reassured her. Or did it? Perhaps she was slipping into her role more easily than she ever thought she could.

“Isabella. Duncan. This is Beth Langdon.”

“Ah, this must be your misery lady,” Isabella said, her face lighting as she came toward the car.

Duncan leaned into the car and in a stage whisper announced, “I think she means mystery.”

“Yes, of course that is what I meant,” she said. “So you must tell me, Reese. Have you solved her mystery?”

“I’m working on it, Isabella,” he said, arching his brow when Beth turned his way again. He shook his finger. “Be warned, mon ange polisson, Duncan doesn’t pay Isabella those exorbitant fees because she backs off.”

“I see,” Beth said, nodding. “Well, there’s really no mystery. I was having some fun with Reese and I think he was having some fun with me. Of course, once I realized that he’d seen my entire collection of scarves and sunglasses, I decided to step up to the roulette table and, uh…start the ball rolling on our introduction.”

Both men gave a friendly duet of loud groaning.

“So now there is no mystery? And I don’t know why this is funny. I am disappointed,” Isabella said, with a teasing pout.

“I’m not,” Reese said, giving Beth a hot, secret look before turning to his friends. “Well, have you two turned into voyeurs or are we late?”

“None of your business and you’re actually early. But we do have a problem,” Duncan said, pointing over his shoulder to the fish mosaic decorating the entrance to the restaurant. “Isabella’s just informed me she’s allergic to seafood.”

“Yes. Please forgive me for ruining this evening,” Isabella said. “But I do not wish to…” Grimacing, she made a circle with her outstretched arms. “How do you say it? Blow up like a balloon and die.”

“Isabella, what creative imagery! You must remember to tell your English teacher,” Duncan said. His dramatic delivery had the dark-haired woman frowning suspiciously, until all four of them were laughing.

Reese looked at the couple beside his car and then at Beth as he gave her hip a secret squeeze. “Let’s forget about trying to book another restaurant reservation and order in at my place. We’ll catch the fireworks from the balcony.”

“Sounds good to me,” Duncan said, holding up both hands, “but never mind about calling in an order. We’ll pick up something at Le Mah-Jong on the way. Meanwhile you and Beth can work on untangling yourselves. By the way, friend, Isabella and I expect a bottle of Château Beaumont’s finest with dinner tonight.”

As the two men staged a loud and good-tempered debate about what vintage would go best with beef and snow peas, Beth shared a smile with Isabella. The down-to-earth manner of Reese’s smart-set friends had been a pleasant surprise and she began imagining the rest of the evening with them. With her next thought, she looked away. Guilt began picking at her insides. How quickly their smiles would disappear if they knew what she was up to with their friend. She shifted in Reese’s lap. This cozy moment had to end. She had more important things to do than make memories that would one day plague her with shame.

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