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  “Hello, Roxanne.”

  She stumbled backward against the wall and caught the arm of a chair.

  Carlos Delgado stood in the doorway to her kitchen.

  Chapter Six

  “Did I startle you?” Carlos asked. “I’m sorry. I was helping myself to a glass of your excellent whisky.”

  Roxanne’s heart was hammering. Sweat ran down her back and dampened her armpits. Should she scream? Run?

  Carlos strolled casually into the room as if he were an invited guest, a drink in his right hand. He was still dressed as he had been in the office—the blue silk tie tightly knotted at the neck of his fine white shirt, his dark suit jacket and pants tailored perfectly to fit has long, lean body. His entrance was alarming but also thrilling.

  “How did you get in here?”

  Carlos laughed. He took a seat at one end of Roxanne’s sofa. “I wondered how you’d begin this conversation. Your lock was extraordinarily easy to pick and your alarm was easy to silence. I suggest that tomorrow you call a reputable lock smith.” He took a sip of his drink. He leaned back against the sofa. “I’m sure you have quite a story to tell me.”

  “Not really,” Roxanne said. She was trembling, but she made her voice steady. “There’s a simple explanation.”

  “I’d like to hear it. Do lawyers frequently moonlight as hookers? Or is that your own singular hobby?”

  Roxanne’s face was on fire.

  “I… It wasn’t that.”

  “No? What was it then?”

  “I was at the hotel for a charity dinner. When I went to the bathroom, I found the letter in the hallway and showed it to a hotel employee. He thought I wanted to deliver it to you. I didn’t correct his mistake. I wanted to see the inside of the club and then I saw you.” Roxanne took a deep breath. She shrugged, hoping this gesture made her look nonchalant. “I thought you were attractive so I played along.”

  Carlos frowned. “You were so smitten with me at first sight that you let me believe you’d been hired for the night? Insisted on entertaining me? Seducing me?”

  “I had a drink. It made me feel uninhibited.”

  You sound so feeble!

  “Your attraction to me had nothing to do with your firm’s lawsuit against me?”

  Roxanne shook her head. “I didn’t know anything about the lawsuit. I’m not a litigator. I’m in the estate department.”

  “I know you looked through the papers on my desk. You must have realized that our night together offered you a bonus. You searched for something your firm could use against me.”

  “No! As soon as I understood what I was looking at, I stopped reading. I would not do anything unethical.” The flow chart with Murkley’s name on it hovered in her mind. “We’d had a wonderful time together, but when I saw the complaint, I realized that the situation was complicated, so I left.”

  “I see.” Carlos finished his drink. “It’s rare to meet a lawyer who takes her ethics so seriously. It’s quite refreshing. Forgive my paranoia. When I saw you today in your office, I jumped to all sorts of conclusions.” He stood. He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a wad of material. “You were in such a hurry to leave my hotel room, you left your panties.”

  Roxanne’s breath caught in her throat.

  His gaze did not leave Roxanne’s face. He held her panties to his nose. “Such an intoxicating scent. It conjures up the most vivid images for me—the look on your face when you rode me, the quiver of your ass when I spanked you, the way the folds of your flesh reddened and swelled when you were aroused. You get so wet when you’re aroused, Roxanne. I could see the moisture glisten. I wanted to taste you.”

  There was a hot wire running from Roxanne’s pelvis along her spine to her brain.

  Carlos crossed the room to her. “Here.” He held out the wad of panties to her.

  She took them, and almost cried out when his fingers brushed her skin.

  “I’d never done anything like that before.” She wanted him to understand. “Never. It was an aberration. A mistake.”

  Carlos ran a finger down the side of her cheek. “A mistake? You wound me. I thought you found the evening as pleasurable as I did. Or was that an act too?”

  “Not an act.” She was torn between what she knew she should do and what she wanted to do. She should send him away, but she wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him close. All her concerns, her worries, her fears were washed away by a wave of desire. “I loved being with you.”

  “On that we agree.” He bent forward and kissed her lightly on her lips.

  His kiss was soft, sweet. She sighed.

  He smiled. He unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. “I was deeply disappointed when I woke in the morning and you were gone.” He undid the next button and the next. Her skin tingled, waiting for his touch.

  “I didn’t want to leave,” Roxanne said. “But I knew I couldn’t stay.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Even so, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  “I’m flattered that a beautiful woman like you finds me so irresistible.”

  He opened her blouse. “Oh my, black lace and pale skin—one of my favorite combinations. It’s as though you dressed to please me.” He pulled her blouse off her shoulders and down her arms. “I can see your pink nipples through the lace.” He stroked his finger across the cup of her bra.

  His touch on her nipples made her gasp. She was turned-on. She was ready.

  He kissed her again, another soft kiss. “Let’s see what the rest of you looks like.” He reached behind her to unfasten her skirt.

  She caught a strong whiff of his musky floral scent.

  As soon as her skirt was loosened, it fell down her hips. He exhaled. “Oh Roxanne. Exactly what I like. Garters and stockings and a thong that barely covers you.” His hands stroked her puckered nipples under the lace of her bra.

  She had to close her eyes at the rush of sensation.

  His hands slipped behind her back and unhooked her bra. He tugged it away and dropped it on the floor with her blouse.

  She wanted him so much, she could hardly breathe.

  He put his hands on either side of her head and leaned forward but kept his body off hers. “When I came here, I had no intention of getting intimate with you again, but it seems a shame to waste this golden opportunity.” He kissed her softly a third time. “What do you think, Roxanne?”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him against her. She moaned softly. “I want you.”

  He kissed her hard this time. His hands cupped her breasts. She was on fire for him.

  He pulled away. She leaned against the wall and watched him take off his jacket and tie.

  “Come to me,” she whispered.

  He knelt in front of her. “The other night was about my pleasure.” He ran his hands up along her calves to the tops of her stockings. “This night will be about yours.” His fingers skimmed the now damp fabric between her legs. “So wet and we’ve hardly started.” He played with her swollen clit through the thin fabric.

  “Oh please,” Roxanne moaned. She parted her legs wider.

  He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I intend to please you.” He released the garters from her stockings. He tugged her panties and garters to her ankles, took off her shoe and lifted her foot to remove the stocking. Then he removed the other shoe and the other stocking.

  Roxanne’s hands were flat against the wall. Her bare buttocks pressed against the wall. She arched her pelvis.

  “Are you offering me a taste?” He put his hands on her hips; his warm breath blew over her labia.

  She was wet and aching for him.

  The tip of his tongue grazed the edges of her labia, circled the engorged tip of her clit and then stopped.

  She bent slightly forward. “Don’t stop!”

  “How much do you want me?” He grasped her wrists and pressed them against the wall. His tongue flickered over her clit.

  She was solid flesh and liquid and h
eat. An urgent sound escaped her lips.

  “Enough to surrender to me?” He pressed his mouth between her legs. She shut her eyes. His tongue flicked and danced. She opened her legs wider and whimpered with pleasure.

  He stopped.

  “Do you want more?”

  “Oh God yes!”

  “And you surrender?”

  “Anything!” Roxanne didn’t know what he meant only that she needed him.

  He stood. He took both her wrists in one hand and pulled her down the hall into her bedroom and onto her bed. He stretched his still clothed body on top of her and raised her arms above her head. Before she realized what was happening, he had looped one of her stockings over her wrist and bound it to the bar of her brass headboard. He kissed her hungrily. Any protest she might have made was lost in the pleasure of that kiss. He looped another stocking around her free wrist and bound it the same way.

  He sat back on the bed. Something on the floor caught his glance. “How convenient.” He got off the bed and picked up one of the pairs of ruined pantyhose she had dropped that morning. He lifted her foot and slipped the pantyhose around her ankle.

  Now she did protest.

  “No, don’t!”

  “No?” He moved closer to her and touched her between her legs so gently and softly it was like no touch at all. It made her wild. “Really, Roxanne?”

  “Please.” It was a formless request. She parted her legs wider for him.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” He tied one end of the pantyhose around her ankle and the other to the footboard. Then he pulled her other leg and tied it too. He stood back and looked down at her and smiled. “My captive. Completely at my mercy.”

  She closed her eyes and pulled her arms and legs. There was a strange exhilaration in pitting her strength against her bonds and losing.

  He climbed back on the bed and lay on top of her, covering her breasts and belly with kisses. Then his warm breath was between her legs and his hands pressed her thighs still farther open and his mouth touched her clit and his tongue circled and thrust into her, lapping up her moisture. She could not escape him if she wanted to, but she did not want to. She made soft sounds as she climaxed. His tongue did not stop moving and his fingers slid into her, pressing against the sides of her opening, thrusting into her. He nipped the tender skin of her inner thigh and she yelped. His thrusts were wilder, harder, faster. As the fingers of one hand thrust inside her, his other hand stroked and rubbed her clit.

  “Yes!” she cried. “Do that!” She came again. Her back arched on the bed, her arms and legs strained against her bonds.

  He pulled his fingers away. She wanted more. Ached for more. He got off the bed. There was a ferocious look in his face—his dark eyes were narrowed, concentrating on her. His breathing was rapid. His pants bulged with his erection.

  “Carlos,” she called to him. “Take me.”

  “If you insist.”

  He frantically tugged the buttons on his shirt—some came off with soft pops. He pulled off his belt and unzipped his pants and pulled them off.

  She wanted to hurry him to her. “There’s a condom in the drawer.”

  He took one out and rolled it onto his cock. “Do you want me?”

  She looked at him—at his solid chest with the fine black hair, his long legs, narrow hips, his hard cock swathed in a yellow condom.

  “I want you so much I can hardly bear it. Take me!” My fantasy is real!

  He fell onto her and there was the wonderful weight of his body and the heat of his skin. He thrust into her easily, she was so wet, so open, and she groaned when he filled her, satisfying for one brief moment the ache in her body, and then her body demanded more. She lifted her hips against him. She could smell her scent on his face, could taste her saltiness on his tongue. Their bodies moved together, thrusting, grinding. His hands raked along her ribs to her waist, reached under her to squeeze her ass and press her harder against him. She felt the wave of release building and lifting. She called his name and the surge pulled her in and under. He pulled his hands out from under her and rested his weight on his arms, his hands by her head. He pounded into her. She loved the sensation, loved the feel of him as he stiffened and came to his release.

  He lay against her and she delighted in his weight.

  “That was wonderful,” she said. She sighed.

  “Yes, it was.”

  He pulled away from her and sat at the edge of the bed, his back to her. She saw him reach to the floor for his pants. He pulled them on and stood up. “As much as I’d like another frolic, I have to get to work.”

  “You have to untie me first.”

  “I’m afraid that will have to wait.”

  Roxanne raised her head. “What?”

  He picked up his shirt.

  “I seem to have lost some buttons. Oh well, the price one pays for pleasure.”

  “Carlos. Untie me, please. My hands will go numb.”

  “Not yet. First, I’m going to download the contents of your laptop.”

  “What are you saying?” Panic was rising in her chest.

  “I want to find out who sent you to me. I want to know who you’re really working for.”

  “I told you the truth!” Roxanne’s voice rose higher. This was absurd! She pulled her arms to get them free, but he had tied her fast.

  “It will take me some time. I suggest you relax.”

  “Carlos, don’t! You can’t! I have confidential client information! Please!” Roxanne struggled to get free.

  Carlos walked out the bedroom door.

  “Untie me!” Roxanne yelled.

  “Sorry, but I like quiet when I’m working.” He shut the door.

  “I’ll call the police! I’ll call the FBI! Oh fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

  She heard him laugh.

  She shut her eyes and pressed her head into her pillow. She was an idiot. A stupid, deluded ass! She tried to free herself by swinging her arms but this did nothing but tire her out. She lay on the bed trussed and tied for a long time.

  The door opened. Carlos came in.

  She was going to scream at him. Then she saw the knife he carried and cold fear froze her larynx.

  “Don’t worry,” Carlos said pleasantly. “If I wanted to cut you, I wouldn’t use a bread knife. You’re going to use it to free yourself.” He came to the side of the bed and put the handle in Roxanne’s hand. “You’ll have to saw the blade against the stocking like this.” He moved her hand.

  Her numb fingers could hardly hold the handle, let alone saw with it.

  Her mouth was impossibly dry. She called up some spit and swallowed. “Please, Carlos. Untie me. If you looked at my files, you must know I’ve been telling you the truth.”

  “I could hardly do a thorough search in such a short span of time, Roxanne. I need to trace every possible avenue.”

  “I’m begging you.” Hot tears filled her eyes.

  He sighed. “Really. You’re the one who started all this, substituting yourself for Mr. Cooper’s intended gift of a box of cigars. I think I’m letting you off lightly.”

  “This will take me hours!”

  “Not that long.” He walked to the door.

  “Wait!” Her voice was a high screech. “What if I drop the knife?”

  He shrugged. “I suggest you don’t.”

  She cursed him at the top of her lungs.

  He laughed. “Save your energy. I hope you can take some comfort in this—when I find out who sent you, I’ll send him a note, letting him know what a good job you did. You’re an excellent fuck. I’d do you anytime.”

  “Carlos!”

  “Don’t forget to call that locksmith!”

  She heard his footsteps recede through her house then the faint squeak of her front door as it opened and the solid sound as it shut. With tears streaming down her face, she cursed Carlos and all men and her own stupidity, and sawed the stocking for what seemed like hours until she was free.

  Chapter Seven
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br />   Roxanne sat at her kitchen table in the early morning, a cup of hot tea pressed to her forehead. She had finally stopped shaking. Her throat was raw, her eyes burned. In her kitchen trashcan were her stockings and the remnants of her pantyhose, the torn condom wrapper and the used yellow condom full of his semen. Her wrists were chafed and sore. On the table in front of her were her laptop and handbag. He had gone through her wallet. He had gone through her briefcase and her desk, her bookshelves, her closets. He had not made a mess but had deliberately set things back slightly out of place as if he’d wanted her to know what he’d done. He had not taken any credit cards or cash, but her BlackBerry was missing.

  “I let him do this. I let him.”

  She was in for the most shame-packed day of her life. She was obligated to tell the senior partners of her firm that her clients’ confidential information had been compromised. For a very brief moment she had considered telling them her laptop had been stolen by some anonymous thief, but almost as soon as she thought it, she’d rejected the idea. The fact that Carlos Delgado was the thief might have serious implications for Hector Rivera’s lawsuit, and Rivera was her firm’s client. Telling the truth was going to be bitterly painful, but she had to do it. She had learned a lesson from her father’s life—she would tell the truth even at great personal cost. As much as the truth might sting, lies could bite even harder.

  Roxanne pushed away her tea. She showered, washing away all traces of Carlos’ scent and touch. Dressing was problematic. She still had not done laundry. She could not bear to put on the sexy lingerie he had so admired. She took a bra and panties out of her hamper. She sniffed her underwear to see if she could wear it, and the image of Carlos sniffing her panties flickered into her mind.

  “Bastard!” she said. She stepped away from the hamper and onto something that made her cry out. She lifted her foot. She had stepped on one of Carlos’ buttons.

  “Fuck him!” she yelled. Her foot hurt. Her pride hurt. She threw the button into the kitchen trash.

  She would not fall apart. She would do what had to be done and she would get on with her life. She pulled her hair back into a tight knot, dressed in her primmest blouse with a high neck and buttoned cuffs that covered the chaffing on her wrists, pulled on a pair of gray wool trousers and a hip-length navy sweater. She looked like a caricature of a librarian—plain, serious, sexless. Then she got in her car and drove to work and what she fully expected to be her public flogging.