RoxannesPirate Page 9

  He laughed. “Actually, my father encouraged me.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Before I left for boarding school, he made sure I had some sexual experience. He found women who were very wise and kind to teach me.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  Roxanne shook her head. “What did your mother say?”

  “We never discussed it, but my father would not have done something if she disapproved. It was a profound experience for me. Of course at first I was purely selfish as any young boy would be, but I quickly learned the great lesson that my partner’s pleasure is just as important, if not more important than my own. If I ever have a son, I’d feel obligated to give him the same lesson.”

  “Fascinating,” Roxanne said. “I’m sure when you arrived at school you were very popular with the girls.”

  Carlos grinned. “Unfortunately, I attended an all-boys school. It was some years before I could put my knowledge to proper use, but lessons learned when young seem to stick the most.”

  “I’d say your knowledge of the subject is certainly adequate.”

  “Adequate? Adequate!”

  She laughed at his frown and took a few quick steps away from him and moved her hips and her arms to the song blaring from the speakers as if she were on a dance floor.

  Carlos grabbed her hand and spun her around and pulled her back into her arms.

  “You dance!” he said, sounding delighted.

  “Dancing was the one thing my father did try to teach me. I don’t get to do it much though. Paul didn’t dance and most of the men I’ve gone out with thought slow dancing was an excuse for groping.”

  He pulled her tight against his body. “You mean like this?” He squeezed her ass then slid his hand up under her jacket. “Ay chica,” he whispered in her ear. “Que paso?”

  The hunger that had been stilled through dinner sounded through her body again.

  He shuffled his feet and they turned, still pressed together. “You smell good,” he said. “A combination of roses and sweat.”

  The sound of his voice and the feel of his body pressed against her and his hand stroking her back brought a burning ache between her legs.

  He took his hand from her back and lowered the zipper on her jacket. He bent his head and breathed deeply from the space between her breasts.

  She wanted him.

  He raised his head and looked into her eyes. “And there is the faint smell you exude when you want me. I know if I touched you now, you’d be all wet and open.”

  She brushed her lips against his and pressed her pelvis against his erection.

  He made a noise deep in his throat. “It’s time to go back.”

  At every red light they kissed and touched, stroking and rubbing each other. Each time when the light turned green, a driver behind them would honk and make them jump and laugh.

  “There’s the sign for the hotel,” Roxanne pointed out. She squeezed her thighs together to still the ache he’d aroused. She was wet from his touch.

  “Thank God,” Carlos said. “I can’t take much more of this.”

  He turned into the long driveway that led to the hotel’s entrance. There was a shrill unpleasant noise from his pants pocket.

  “Oh shit!” He pulled over to the curb. He pulled out his cell phone and read a message. He exhaled loudly. “There’s a business emergency.” He tapped out a message. He waited a second then groaned at the response. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go. There’s something I have to deal with.”

  “I’ll be here all night,” Roxanne said. She touched his arm. “You can come back anytime.”

  He sighed. “I can’t. It will probably take all night and most of tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” She felt deflated. “My flight home is at seven tomorrow evening.”

  He groaned. “Change your plans. Stay the weekend with me.”

  “I have to work.”

  “It’s a holiday on Monday. Your office must be closed. Please, Roxanne. I’ll book a flight for you on Monday. Come back to the hotel after your meeting. I’ll pick you up and I’ll bring you to my place and we’ll spend the weekend together.”

  The cell phone shrilled again. “Please, please, Roxanne. We’ll sit by the pool or go to the beach. We’ll make love for hours.” He took her hand and kissed her palm. “I’ll take you dancing.”

  She laughed and touched his face. He looked like he was in pain. How sweet it would be to sleep with him, to wake to him. “All right. I’ll stay.”

  He sighed with relief. He tapped out another message on his cell phone then drove up to the hotel entrance. A doorman opened Roxanne’s door.

  “Good night, Roxanne. Sweet dreams. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Good night, Carlos. I’ll be thinking of you.” She kissed him softly on his mouth then got out of the car.

  She watched him drive away.

  Her fantasy would not be the same as the sweet flesh and sweat of reality, but with the creativity of an overactive libido, she could still have hot wax and ribbons and Carlos in her bed.

  Chapter Ten

  The inaugural meeting of the Bigelow Foundation lasted all day. Ariadne Bigelow had invited friends and family members with a range of business and professional backgrounds to act as an advisory board. She and Roxanne had lined up several people with backgrounds in environmental issues to speak, including representatives from small foundations, each of whom discussed their organization’s mission and policies for grant-making. Roxanne had to work hard to keep the speakers and attendees on topic. Ariadne, though bright and well-intentioned, was too kind to control the herd. When one of the attendees kept interrupting the last speaker, a nervous academic researcher named Katie Hoffman, Roxanne lost her patience.

  She stood up. “Sir, you’ve raised interesting points that we can discuss later when we’re all sufficiently lubricated with alcohol, but until then, I have to ask you to stop talking.”

  There were titters and scattered applause.

  Roxanne turned to the presenter. “My apologies, Ms. Hoffman, but the crucial decision facing this foundation is whether we should fund our own eco-development projects directly or make grants to organizations that create their own. Should we be a developer or a grant giver?”

  “Definitely the second option,” Ms. Hoffman said. She seemed to lose some of her nervousness. “There is a high level of expertise needed to create a successful site. My report has a long list of projects that I consider failures. I also include a list of criteria I think donors should consider, and a list of innovative projects I think are worthy of investment.” She held up her report in a shaky hand. “It’s all here, if you care to read it.”

  “Absolutely! Your report will be invaluable in defining this foundation’s mission.”

  Roxanne sat down. Ariadne smiled at her, gave her a thumbs-up and stood to make her concluding remarks. Roxanne rubbed her forehead. She had not slept well. The sheets had smelled too much like Carlos to allow her to get any rest. She had twice brought herself to a climax, first lying on her stomach, imagining him taking her from behind, her nose pressed into the pillow to catch his scent, and then on her back, clutching her pillow to her chest, imagining him screwing her on the hood of his car. She hadn’t fallen asleep until after two. Now she surreptitiously checked her BlackBerry. Still no messages from him. Where was he? Had he forgotten about her?

  “I want to echo what my granddaughter Ariadne said and thank you all for coming.” Cecily Bigelow was the grande dame in a light blue Chanel suit with ivory trim. “Please join us in the next room for some well-earned refreshment.”

  Roxanne sighed with relief and pushed back her chair. She stood and bumped right into the handsome Andrew Watson. She’d felt awkward when she’d first spotted him that morning, but if he resented her for walking out on him at the benefit dinner, he didn’t show it.

  “I admire your balls, Roxanne,” he said. He quickly moved to Ariadne’s side. Ariadne offered him a warm smil
e.

  If I’d gone to bed with him, I wouldn’t be obsessing over Carlos.

  She checked her BlackBerry again then put it in her handbag and followed the others into the adjoining room where waiters were offering cocktails and hors d’oeuvres.

  Mrs. Bigelow motioned to her.

  “I hope seeing Mr. Watson didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

  “Not at all. He seems to have recovered from my rejection.”

  “He’s set his sights on Ariadne. I understand the feeling is mutual. No accounting for tastes, eh, Ms. Cline?” She smiled and took Roxanne’s arm. “Before I forget, I want to introduce you to Frank Sen. He’s a landscape architect and he mentioned that he had some involvement with that poor man you asked me about the other day, Spencer Marshall.”

  Frank Sen was a slim man with black eyes, short black hair and several tiny gold hoop earrings that edged the outer rim of his right ear like the spirals on a notebook.

  “Mrs. Bigelow mentioned to me that you thought Dover Key had some potential as an eco-tourist site,” he told Roxanne. “I think that’s a good idea. It’s a beautiful property.”

  “My firm represents one of the investors in the failed project—Hector Rivera.”

  Frank Sen wrinkled his forehead. “I don’t know Rivera, but I’ve heard good things about the man he’s suing—Carlos Delgado.”

  Roxanne wondered if Frank noticed the effect this praise had on her. “Did you work on the project, Frank?”

  “No. A friend of mine suggested I put in a bid. He’d done work for Delgado’s company in Costa Rica. He told me Delgado didn’t jerk his contractors and professionals around.” Frank Sen took a sip from his drink. “Unfortunately, Marshall was in charge of Dover Key and he was all over the place. Every time I talked to him, the scope of the project got bigger. I decided he was more than I could handle and pulled out. Elspeth Perry and her husband had a similar experience.” He looked around, like he was trying to locate someone in the crowd. “Ellie!” He waved his hand to a petite blonde. “Over here.”

  Frank Sen told Roxanne that Elspeth Perry and her husband had an architectural firm in Dallas that specialized in green projects. Richard Perry was the architect. Elspeth was a designer. Roxanne thought Elspeth looked like a beautiful but fragile doll, tiny and delicate, with china white skin and shoulder-length gold hair. Roxanne’s glance caught the huge diamond engagement ring flanked by a wide diamond wedding band on Elspeth’s tiny hand, and three diamond tennis bracelets on her narrow wrist.

  Make that a rich little doll. She shook hands with Elspeth as Frank made the introductions.

  “Roxanne and I were talking about the Dover Key Development,” Frank Sen said. “You and Richard did some work with Spencer Marshall.”

  Elspeth’s bisque cheeks took on a slightly pinkish flush. “Not for long.” Her voice was soft and sweet. “Richard and Spencer quarreled and we pulled out.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Richard thought Spencer’s ideas were too ambitious.”

  “Spencer Marshall was a bit of a loose cannon,” Frank said. “But I was shocked when I heard the news about his death. Such a shame.” He drained his glass. “I think I’ll grab another as long as Cecily’s buying. Anyone else?” When the two women shook their heads, he moved to the bar.

  Elspeth stared into her wineglass. “It was all so sad,” she whispered. “So very, very sad.” Her blue eyes looked unnaturally shiny, as though tears were imminent.

  “Did you know Spencer well?” Roxanne asked.

  Elspeth’s face grew pinker. “We went to college together, but that was a long time ago.”

  “I’ve met his partner Carlos Delgado, and my firm represents his other partner Hector Rivera. I’m afraid Rivera is suing Carlos.”

  The pink tint in Elspeth’s cheeks washed away. “I know Carlos. As for that other man…” She shrugged, but her right hand, which held her wineglass, trembled so hard Roxanne though the wine would spill.

  There was another name on Roxanne’s list. She had a sudden unexplainable but potent feeling that Elspeth would know it. “Did Spencer ever mention the name John Murkley?”

  Elspeth turned white.

  “No,” she said. “Never.” She handed her glass to a passing waitress. “I’m sorry to run off, but I have plans.” She hurried away through the crowd.

  She’s lying. She’s heard of Murkley and what she knows scares her. Roxanne considered going after Elspeth, but her BlackBerry buzzed. She rummaged for it in her handbag. Her heart rate instantly speeded up when she saw the number.

  “Hi,” she said, and began walking out of the noisy room into the hallway.

  “Are you through with your meeting, Ms. Cline?”

  His voice sent tingles through her body.

  “Yes.”

  “So am I. I’ll pick you up at your hotel at seven. Wear something pretty. We’ll have dinner and go dancing.” His voice lowered. “Did you think of me last night?”

  “Yes, I did. Did you think of me?”

  “Unfortunately I was too busy with work, but I assure you, you will not be out of my thoughts for one second until I see you again. In fact, I have a wonderful mental image of you sitting on my desk. Your hair is down, your blouse is half off, your skirt is pulled up, your legs are spread wide open, and oh my goodness, you are a very naughty girl!”

  Roxanne laughed.

  “You do realize that this is our first date,” he said. “Our previous encounters hardly qualify as dates.”

  “Agreed,” Roxanne said.

  “The problem with dates is that so often one has to worry about how the date will end. Fortunately, we don’t have that problem.”

  “No?”

  “No.” His voice softened. “This date will end with you naked in my bed.”

  “Where will you be?”

  He laughed.

  “I’ll see you at seven, Ms. Cline.”

  “At seven, Mr. Delgado.”

  She was grinning when she put her phone inside her bag. Wear something pretty, he’d said. She’d have to go shopping.

  Ariadne and her grandmother were posing for photographs. “Roxanne, join us!” Ariadne said. “We’d still be in there listening to that stuffed shirt pontificate if you hadn’t shut him up.”

  Roxanne posed for a photograph then told Ariadne and Mrs. Bigelow she had to be off.

  “I’ll read Katie Hoffman’s report over the weekend,” she told Ariadne. “We can start drawing up the necessary documents next week.”

  “Let’s talk on Monday,” Ariadne said. “I’m anxious to get started.”

  “Do let Ms. Cline have a few hours off, Ariadne,” Cecily Bigelow said. “I was very impressed with your performance today, Ms. Cline. I knew I had an excellent attorney, but I was pleased that I also have an excellent mentor for my granddaughter. I count on you to guide Ariadne and her work in the years to come.”

  “Mrs. Bigelow, that is the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.”

  “I’m sure your lover said something much sweeter. You came back into this room positively glowing.”

  Roxanne laughed and blushed.

  “Can you join Ariadne and me for dinner before your flight?”

  “I would love to, but I have plans. I’m taking the weekend off and flying home on Monday. I’ll be back in the office on Tuesday.”

  “Really? How lovely. Where are you staying?”

  “I’m not exactly sure.” She smiled, knowing how much Mrs. Bigelow would enjoy the information. “He lives somewhere in Miami.”

  “How scandalous! Do enjoy, Ms. Cline.”

  “I will, Mrs. Bigelow.” Roxanne smiled broadly. “I certainly will.”

  * * * * *

  Cecily Bigelow’s driver took Roxanne to the dress shop Ariadne had recommended and told Roxanne he would wait for her down the street. The saleswoman led Roxanne to a dressing room and promised to return with the perfect dress. Roxanne took off her suit jacket and unbuttoned her silk blouse. She heard
voices from the next dressing room.

  “That is so gorgeous on you. How much is it?”

  A mumbled reply then an exclamation. “You’d have to sell your car to buy it!”

  “Shut up. I love this dress!”

  A door squeaked open.

  Roxanne opened her door a crack to see what had aroused such dress lust. A lovely young woman with long blonde hair paraded in front of the mirrored hallway in a Grecian style sapphire blue dress.

  “You look fantastic, Cee,” her friend said admiringly.

  “If some guy offered to buy me this dress, I’d fuck him, no matter how old or ugly he was,” Cee said.

  Her friend laughed.

  “I mean it,” Cee said decisively. She stuck her chin out defiantly. “I’d do anything to get my hand on some sugar daddy’s credit card.”

  The saleswoman came in with several dresses draped over her arm.

  “Would you like some assistance?” she asked Cee.

  “Nothing but rags in this place,” Cee said.

  “Nice customer,” Roxanne said in a low voice to the saleswoman.

  “You never know,” the saleswoman said. “She could be back here next week with that credit card. I’ve seen it happen.”

  Roxanne vetoed the first two dresses, but the third dress, like one in a fairy tale, was perfect. It was a floaty silk chiffon halter, light blue with the faintest pattern of pink roses and green ivy. The fabric was delightful to the touch. She liked the feel of it as it floated around her legs, the handkerchief hem just brushing her ankles.

  “I didn’t pack a strapless bra,” Roxanne said.

  “You can get away without one,” the saleswoman said, “but you do need sandals.”

  Even on sale, the price tag of the dress and the sandals made Roxanne gulp, but she decided to splurge. She took her purchases and headed for the car. Down the street she saw Cee, the young woman from the dress shop. She was staring into the window of a jewelry shop, her face alive with greedy eagerness.

  Wasn’t greed the great motivator for much of human activity?

  Carlos had told her that greed was what motivated Ines, and it did not take an imaginative leap to think that greed was behind Hector Rivera’s behavior. Had greed driven Spencer Marshall? Apparently he’d had a chance for success with the Dover Key Development, but he’d inflated the project and brought it to ruin. She thought of Elspeth Perry’s response to his death. And thinking of Elspeth, what compromises had she made to have those diamonds on her arm?