For a long time she lay in the darkness listening to the night sounds of Portland, thinking about Garrett Thorne and Tess Delaney. Maybe tomorrow night she’d go back over to the Boiling Point. There were always interesting people to be met there, and how long had it been since she’d actually had sex? Of course, Dee and Harris thought she had it all the time, thought she had it whenever she wanted it. And she did. Didn’t she? For some strange reason, she just hadn’t wanted it all that much lately. She wondered if she should see a doctor. But then the memory of being pressed up close to a very wet, very aroused Garrett Thorne came back with a vengeance, nearly taking her breath away, and she slipped her hand down between her legs. Her breath caught at the feel of herself, the need that she’d usually let someone else take care of, the itch that was somehow never quite scratched even with the thrill of the chase and the buzz of the conquest. Underneath it all was the feel of her; just her, just Kendra Davis alone on her own, and honesty seemed an easier thing in the wee hours. The feel of her coupled with the thoughts that made her need, made her open and soft and achy, were all thoughts that involved being angry and wet and pulled up tight, even for only a moment, against an angry, wet Garrett Thorne. As she replayed the event in her head, she let herself remember the shape of him, then she turned and twisted the memory until, when they burst from the water, no one on shore noticed them there together in the lake. No one noticed that Garrett Thorne was kissing her. And certainly no one could see what their hands were doing under the water, his shoving at her shorts, hers busy with his fly, yanking and tugging until she could feel him hard and warm and pressing anxiously toward her.
No one could see his tentative exploration with anxious fingers, opening her, spreading her. No one could see her guiding him home, up deep inside her to scratch that itch. And certainly no one could see him cup her bottom and lift her, pull her tight to him, coax her to wrap her legs around him.
No one could feel the friction and no one could see the rocking and pressing of their bodies, tightening and gripping and forcing the breath from each other. And no one could hear their quiet gasps and cries and groans as they came together, came together just like the lovers in Tess Delaney’s novels, came together nearly drowning each other in power of their orgasms.
Kendra was alone when her orgasm snaked up her spine and trembled through her nervous system like leaves rustled by a breeze, and she was probably way too far gone to be thinking straight. Maybe she was even already asleep and she only dreamed the calling of Garrett’s name. And anyway, it was just a fantasy, wasn’t it, and everyone had them. She’d had fantasies about her dentist, for God’s sake. Why not have fantasies about Garrett Thorne?
Chapter Four
Garrett answered his BlackBerry with a growl. ‘This had better be good news, Don. Time’s running out. And if that happens, things will get very ugly.’
‘I’m fine, Garrett. Thanks for asking. How are you?’
Garrett growled louder.
Then Don was on his usual spiel about his difficult task, the same spiel Garrett had been hearing for three weeks now. ‘It’s not that easy to find someone who can act and keep your secret and knows enough about Tess and her books to go in front of an audience if need be and speak like Tess Delaney. I mean, this is a tall order.’
‘Goddamn it, Don, I don’t want to hear it! We barely have a week. I want to hear that you’ve found someone to be Tess, and I want to hear it now, or I promise you, Romancine can sue my balls off if they want to, but they’ll still wish they’d left well enough alone.’
He could hear Don shuffling papers and clicking computer keys on the other end of the phone. ‘There’s only one way I could see to deal with this situation, and it’s something I never thought I’d have to do, but I’m going to have to hand you over to the competition.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
Don puffed a sigh into the phone. ‘You ever hear of the Ryde Agency?’
‘No. Should I have?’
‘Not unless you’re in Hollywood, and even then probably not. The Ryde Agency is the epitome of discretion in the PR world. They were the new kid on the block. We never expected them to be real competition. They came out of nowhere, and the next thing we knew, they were kicking ass – ours, most of the time. They’ve handled all kinds of nasty PR problems for the rich and famous. You remember the accusations against Devon Barnet a few years ago?’
‘What accusations? As far as I know Devon Barnet has a shining reputation, and in the past couple of years he only has to do a cameo in a film and that film’s a shoo-in for an Oscar nomination.’