Dark of the Night Read online

Sitting on her bedside table, open as though she’d only just been reading it, was Mary Stewart’s My Brother Michael.

  And the air suddenly smelled of sandalwood.

  Chapter 10

  RILEY SAT IN her car staring at the brick building in front of her. Rain spattered against the windshield. She’d been driving around for what seemed like hours, and she still couldn’t make heads or tails of what was happening.

  There had to be a logical explanation for finding Caroline’s book. Maybe her father had put it there. Or one of the maids. Certainly there was nothing sinister in the act. She was just letting her imagination carry her away. With everything that had happened, it was understandable.

  Anyone would be a little jumpy.

  Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself.

  She’d been too spooked to stay in the house. She’d wanted perspective. That’s why she was sitting in her car, in the middle of the night, in front of an apartment building, in the rain. The fact that Jake Mahoney’s apartment was in the building had nothing to do with anything. Nothing at all.

  Well, okay, it had something to do with it. She sighed. If she were being completely honest with herself, she’d have to admit it had everything to do with it. She simply couldn’t stop thinking about him. Which was why she was trying to build up the courage to go and talk to him. Even though he clearly despised her.

  She sucked in a breath and opened the car door. Might as well get it over with. At the very worst, she’d have said her piece. And who knew, maybe something positive would come of the whole thing. At least, for once in her life, she was doing what she wanted to. Not letting anyone else dictate the way she should handle things.

  She stepped out into the rain.

  It was her life, and just for the moment she was going to live it. Besides, the man might throw her out. Or yell at her again. The thought almost sent her running back to the shelter of the car, his angry words still echoing through her head.

  What was she doing? Committing political suicide, that’s what. If the man didn’t rip her to shreds, the newspapers would if they got hold of the fact that she was standing in the rain in the middle of the night mooning over one of their own.

  And that was nothing compared to what her father and Leon would do when they found out. Her newfound independence vanished. She wasn’t being brave; she was being incredibly stupid. No man was worth risking her father’s career. Was he?

  She pulled her jacket closer, indecision holding her immobile. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t her fault. That she hadn’t done anything to endanger his precious career.

  Oh, who was she kidding? She wanted to feel his arms around her again—to be lost in his kisses. And that was exactly why she ought to turn around and go home. There wasn’t any room in her life for complications. She belonged at Rivercrest with her father. Not here in the rain, dreaming about a stranger.

  She turned to go, dipping her head to avoid the worst of the downpour. She shouldn’t have come, but at least she’d realized it before she’d done anything foolish. What she needed now was a hot bath and a warm bed.

  Tomorrow this would all be a bad memory, and no one would be the wiser.

  A crash of thunder announced that the storm had finally arrived in full force. She tried to hurry, suddenly feeling afraid. A sound echoed through the storm. A car door maybe. She glanced back over her shoulder in time to see the silhouette of a man illuminated by the lightning.

  She sped up, trying to keep from breaking into a dead run. There was nothing to suggest that the man was after her. Dressed in a mackintosh and carrying an umbrella, he was probably just going home. She was letting the storm scare her, allowing her imagination to run away with her again.

  Her car loomed out of the dark, and with a sigh, she pulled her keys out of her pocket, fumbling with the lock, cursing herself for her stupidity. She had no business being out here at this time of night alone. What the hell had she been thinking?

  She shot another glance in the direction of the stranger. He’d passed the entrance to the apartments and was closing the distance between them. She squinted against the rain, trying to force her now shaking fingers to ram the key into the lock. Between the rain and the dark, she couldn’t make it fit.

  Finally, the key slid into place and she wrenched the car door open, just as two strong hands closed on her shoulders.

  She tried to jerk free, to run, but her legs had deserted the ship. As she buckled forward, her last thought was that in this storm no one could hear her scream.

  “Riley, it’s me. Jake.” He was kneeling in front of her, his worried face blurry in the rain.

  “You scared the hell out of me. I thought . . . I thought . . .” She stood up, trying to regain her composure.

  “I just wanted to make certain you were all right. And it’s a good thing I did. You weren’t.” He gestured to the open door and the keys dangling from the lock.

  Resentment boiled to the surface, accompanied by anger. “I wouldn’t have been so frightened if you hadn’t been stalking me.”

  He frowned, raindrops dripping from his hair onto his face. “I’m hardly stalking you. I was coming home. I live over there.” He gestured in the direction of his apartment building.

  “I know that. But you passed it up and f-followed me over here. And I didn’t kn-know it was you, so I panicked.”

  His frown turned to a scowl, and she took a step back. “Someone was stalking you?”

  “Y-You.” She fought to contain a shudder as the icy rain pelted her.

  He gripped her shoulders again, his look intense. “Riley, I came from that direction.” He tilted his head away from the building.

  “But—” She stopped as her beleaguered brain registered the fact that he wasn’t carrying an umbrella or wearing a raincoat. “I guess I let my imagination run wild. I’ve been doing that a lot lately.” She smiled weakly, the shivering starting in earnest now.

  Jake’s look changed to one of concern. “You’re soaked. We’ve got to get you inside.”

  She shook her head, still bemused by everything. “I should go home. Sh-Shouldn’t be here.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, reaching across her to close and lock her car. “We need to get you dry first.”

  Her mind insisted that she say no, but evidently her body hadn’t received the message. She leaned into his warmth, grateful for his strength as he steered her toward his apartment. The storm had increased in intensity, the lightning and thunder crescendoing around them.

  Jake lowered his head so his words could reach her over the wind. “What are you doing out here, anyway?”

  “I was coming to see you.” The words were out before she had a chance to think better of them.

  He stopped, his gaze probing hers. “Why?”

  “To tell you I didn’t set you up.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Then why?” Anger seared through her again.

  “Why did I come down so hard on you?” He paused, his eyes still searching hers. “It’s complicated. At first, part of me honestly believed it was you. But another part of me knew you wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “So you went with the Riley’s a bitch scenario?”

  “Something like that. Look, this isn’t going to make sense, but the truth is that I wanted you so badly it was easier to believe you’d betrayed me.”

  “And now?” The words were soft, almost a whisper lost in the wind and rain.

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I still want you.”

  She sucked in a breath, tipping her head back, oblivious now to the fall of rain. What she wanted, what she craved, was the touch of this man. It wasn’t wise, it probably wasn’t even rational, but at the moment she didn’t care.

  He brushed his mouth against hers, the touch sending trails of heat chasing through her. The kiss was even more powerful than the one at the party. Elemental. Made more so perhaps by the storm around them.

  She w
asn’t sure exactly how it happened. One minute they were standing in the rain, bodies pressed together, and the next he was carrying her through the lobby of his building, her face buried in the damp wool of his sweater.

  She might have abandoned her reserve, but her instincts ran deep, and she’d been playing the politician’s daughter all of her life. Only when the doors to the elevator slid shut did she allow herself to relax, to concentrate on the power of the man who held her.

  His gaze collided with hers, his eyes hungry. He released her, holding her close, so that her body slid against his, the motion of the elevator enhancing the friction. She arched against him, wanting more, her hands threading through the inky silk of his hair.

  His mouth found hers, and she welcomed him inside, reveling in the thrust of his tongue against hers. They parried and dueled, using touch as a silent language, neither advancing or retreating but instead joining together in a tempestuous dance of emotion and sensation.

  The elevator abruptly jolted to a halt, the lights dimming then going out altogether. They separated, his arms still holding her, her cheek pressed against his chest, the rhythmic beating of his heart comforting.

  “What happened?” She sounded as breathless as she felt. She ought to be frightened, but she wasn’t. Not here, not with Jake.

  “It must be the storm.” Keeping an arm around her, she felt him reach for the elevator panel, heard the soft click as he pressed a button. “The power must be out.”

  “Are we safe?” She tried to see him in the dark, but the blackness was absolute, the silence surrounding them.

  “Absolutely. This elevator has been here as long as the building. I’d say in fifty years it’s survived its share of blackouts.”

  She relaxed against him. “But we’re stuck?”

  “For the time being.” His hands moved in slow, languid circles across her back, his breath lifting the tendrils of hair around her face. She moved closer, pressing against him, feeling his arousal hard against her thigh.

  With a groan, he lifted her so her back was supported by the corner of the elevator, his mouth crushing hers, his need for her laid bare with his kiss. Passion rose inside her, and she gave it to him freely, wanting him as much as he wanted her.

  His fingers brushed against the satin of her bra, dipping inside, finding her nipple unerringly in the dark. The sensation ignited pools of liquid heat between her thighs, and she arched back, offering herself to him. He trailed hot kisses along the line of her neck and down the slope of her breast, the soft silk of his hair adding torment to the already unbearable heat.

  When his lips closed around her areola, tugging gently, she fought to contain a moan, the sound coming out a muted gasp. His tongue circled her nipple, drawing it farther into his mouth. Braced against the wall, she leaned back, her body responding with a fervor she hadn’t known she possessed.

  His hand reached for the hem of her skirt, easing the gauzy cotton up her thigh, his tongue still licking and teasing her breast. His hand rose higher, and higher still, until all that separated his fingers from the throbbing junction between her thighs was the soft satin of her underwear.

  She held her breath as his fingers slid between the satin and her skin, circling lazily, slowly, until she thought she might explode. Then suddenly he was there, deep inside her, moving, stroking, the rhythm increasing as he suckled her breast.

  His mouth and his hands possessed her, driving her higher and higher, until there was nothing but the feel of him burning against her, inside her. He moved down, raining kisses along the smooth skin of her abdomen, crossing the divide marked by her bunched skirt, the heat of his lips making her writhe against him.

  With amazing finesse he slid down her panties, removing them, raising one leg so it hooked over his shoulder. With a soft cry she abandoned all decency, pushing against his head, urging him on, balanced on the edge of a precipice that scared and excited her beyond anything she’d ever imagined.

  His mouth found her, his tongue driving deep inside her. He tasted her, drinking her in, pulling her soul from her body into his. The darkness surrounded her, caressing her as his tongue moved in and out, in and out, driving her higher and higher, until the darkness exploded with light, and she cried his name, reaching to hold him, to anchor herself in the spinning vortex he’d created.

  She felt his arms close around her, heard the sweet whisper of her name as he kissed her face, and she let go, allowing herself to soar, to fly, knowing that he would never let her fall.

  The elevator lurched with a hum as the lights flickered back on. Riley blinked, startled by the brightness, immediately embarrassed. She ducked her head, mortified at what she had done, but he forced her head up, forced her to look at him. The passion reflected there made her gasp, and her embarrassment faded. Whatever was happening, they were in it together, and there was something absurdly alluring about the fact.

  With a ding, the elevator doors slid open with a whoosh. Using his body as a shield, Jake held her close and they walked in silence to the door of his apartment. Once inside, he reached for the lights, but she stopped him, wanting the protection of the shadows, of the dark.

  Lightning flashed in the window, washing the room with momentary light. She took a step toward him, reaching for the buttons on his shirt, trembling with the enormity of what she had done, what she intended to do.

  His hands covered hers, a question in his eyes. And she stood on tiptoe to press her lips against his. A covenant of sorts. His mouth opened and he pulled her hard against him, accepting what she offered, raising the ante with the fervor of his kiss.

  They backed into the room, arms locked around each other, tongues tangling together with need. When the sofa stopped forward momentum, they pulled apart, breathless, laughing like children.

  She reached again for the buttons on his shirt, fumbling in her haste. With gentle fingers he helped her until she slid her hands along the satin smooth muscles of his chest, delighting in the contrast.

  Steel in velvet. Like his eyes, his voice, the man was a contradiction that begged exploration. She ran her tongue along the edge of one nipple, pleased when it tightened under her touch. Pushing his shirt to the floor, she dropped her hand, stroking first the ridge of his stomach and then shyly reaching for the hard bulge beneath his jeans.

  Covering her hand with his, he helped her establish a rhythm, his other hand seeking, and finding, the soft curve of her breast through the thin cotton of her blouse. Heat built as Riley’s timidity gave way to passion, and the banked fire inside her sprang to life again.

  “I want you, Riley O’Brien.” His voice was hoarse, grating against her with the same power as his fingers.

  “Good.” She slid down the zipper on his jeans, her eyes locking on his. “Because I want you too.” Her hand closed around the long hard length of him, and she smiled, reaching up to swallow his groan with her kiss. “Right here. Right now.”

  He pulled her up into his arms, his mouth branding her as his. In three strides he carried her into the bedroom, laying her on soft cotton sheets. The sounds of the storm were muted by the window glass, but she could see rivulets of water running down the panes.

  The lightning was less frequent, but still illuminated them in bursts of icy white, the cool color a contrast to the heat burning inside her. They pulled off their clothes, careless of buttons and closures, their need spurring them into a frenzy.

  Riley ached inside, wanting only to feel him fill her, two parts coming together to make a whole. She tipped back her head, welcoming his hands and mouth. He explored every inch of her, leaving nothing untouched, unloved. Trembling with the sheer power of the feelings he evoked, she rolled on top of him, indulging her need to taste him—all of him.

  She’d never felt so reckless, so sure of herself, and she marveled at the confidence he inspired in her. Even the storm no longer scared her. Rather, it felt like a symphony. A musical score accompanying the splendor of their lovemaking.

  With a sm
ile, he flipped her to her back, pinning her with the gentle comfort of his weight. Catching her gaze, he waited, poised above her, promising everything.

  She nodded, opening to him, and with one swift move he buried himself deep inside her, filling her to the bursting point. The pleasure was exquisite, and she pushed against him, taking him even deeper.

  There was passion reflected in the depths of his eyes, passion and triumph—and something else, something so tender it almost took her breath away. She lost herself then, in the dark of his eyes, blue on black.

  Eyes still locked together, he began to move. Slowly, almost languorously at first, each slow thrust tormenting and delighting. With a moan, she slammed upward, driving him home, and the fury erupted, the storm reaching crescendo. They moved together faster and faster, whirling higher and higher, twisting and turning, locked together in their own special dance.

  With a crash, thunder filled the room, the reverberation echoing off the walls. Reaching for the heavens, they touched the stars, rising above the storm, intertwined—intrinsically joined.

  Body to body.

  Soul to soul.

  For the first time in as long as Riley could remember, the darkness was her friend. She felt safe and cherished—protected against the monsters of the night.

  Martell Osterman hated his job.

  Well, most of it. He had to admit there were times when he liked it. Times when he got to rough somebody up, break bones, or even better, take somebody out. But people were more cautious these days, and, more often than not, it seemed the only thing they wanted to pay him to do was sit on his ass, drink bad coffee, and wonder what the hell he was doing parked in front of a yuppie apartment building on fucking Peachtree Road.

  The silhouette of Christ the King rose into the storm-tossed sky, twin crosses illuminated in the lightning. God on fire. Martell wanted to laugh, but instead he shivered, wondering if God was indeed watching— judging. He reached for his cold coffee and took a sip. Surely he was on the side of righteousness, or at least the almighty dollar. A god of sorts. Weren’t they one and the same?