Voyeur - Lacey Alexander [37]
“I hardly own houses all over the map. This is the only one besides my place in L.A.”
“Which is where exactly? Beverly Hills or something?”
He smirked teasingly. “No, not Beverly Hills.”
“Where then?”
“Malibu,” he replied softly but didn’t look even remotely sheepish.
She sighed longingly. “Right on the beach, I’m guessing.”
He shrugged. “Hey, if you’re gonna live in Malibu . . .”
She laughed, shocked that she’d ended up fucking such a wealthy playboy type. It so wasn’t her. But then, she’d decided not to be her, hadn’t she? Just for now, just for as long as he was here. And she didn’t ask how long he planned to stay, not only because she didn’t want to appear anxious, but because decadent, sexually-free-wheeling Laura didn’t need to know. She’d take it as it came, for what it was worth. When it was over, no big deal. She’d just chalk it up as another life experience. A big one.
She dug beneath the covers, searching for the panties that had been shoved off with such abandon in the night.
“So how’s the book going? You never told me.”
She glanced over her shoulder to see him stretched out perfect and naked in the bed—the condom long since disposed of in a wastebasket nearby. She couldn’t quite look away from him. “Good,” she said simply. She didn’t mention that his entry into her life had somehow kick-started her creativity.
“So your writer’s block is gone?”
She nodded. “I guess this . . . change in scenery was just what I needed.” Having found her discarded underwear, she slid the bikini panties on, still in bed.
“Glad I could help. By lending you the house, I mean.” He added a wink, and she wondered if he somehow knew her success was about more than a new view out the window.
“So,” she said, “I guess you high-roller investor types can just flit about the country whenever you feel like it?” She was actually wondering how it was possible for him to leave behind such high-profile work on a moment’s notice.
“Nothing happening right now that I can’t handle via phone or computer.”
She pointed vaguely down toward the first floor. “If you need the computer I’ve been using, I can . . .” What could she do? Use the one in her back pocket? “Stop working.” She’d hate to do that with her deadline pending and her story zooming along now, but she had to make the offer.
“No worries, snowflake. I brought a laptop. Anything I need to do can be accomplished from there.”
“That was thoughtful of you,” she said, probably too softly.
“What can I say? I’m a thoughtful kinda guy.” They both laughed when she met his wicked gaze, since it seemed clear that his thoughtfulness definitely fell within the parameters of him also being deadly seductive and slightly domineering.
“So you’ll spend your day toppling empires from here?”
He gave his head an easy shake. “Nah, I might have to do a little work, but this trip is mostly pleasure. When you’re busy, I’ll hit the slopes.” She pictured him swooshing down a black diamond like a pro—he seemed like the kind of guy who was probably skilled at everything he did. “I’ll give my friend Tommy a call and see if he can tear himself away from his work for a few hours. He lives here year-round in the next house up the mountain”—he motioned in that direction—“and the guy’s always looking for an excuse to ski, so he won’t turn me down.”
It was good to hit the snow—and prime time, too, smack in the middle of February. A little cold—Braden sometimes preferred spring skiing more—but the day was bright and clear, the runs well groomed, and he felt full of energy as they boarded the Highline lift to the top of Vail Mountain.
“You’re serious?” Tommy said as soon as the lift chair left the ground. “You came here to seduce some chick you never met before just because she’s staying at your house?”
It was the last thing Braden had had a chance to tell him before heading down the Blue Ox run, a killer double-black that led straight back to the lift.