Color Me Wicked Page 7

  “Give me a break, Deimos.” But he went back into the room, picked up his discarded towel, and wrapped it around his waist. Then he returned to the door. “How old are you anyway?”

  “Four. Sparkle’s thousands of years old, that’s why none of this shit bothers her.” He sat down, prepared for full disclosure. “Tell me every little detail.”

  “Can your young and innocent ears stand it?” Con propped his shoulder against the doorjamb. Deimos would be funny if he wasn’t such a pain in the butt.

  “I heard that.” Deimos widened his yellow eyes in alarm. Probably just remembered Con’s threat about what would happen if he listened in to thoughts that weren’t his own. “But I won’t listen again. I’m permanently outta your mind. Promise.” His sly gaze said his promise meant squat. “To answer your question, I can listen to it, but I can’t watch it. Maybe when I get around to doing it myself I’ll . . .” His voice faded away as he realized what he’d revealed.

  Con bit back laughter. “You’re a virgin? Let me get this straight. You’re supposed to be this hotshot manipulator of humans’ sex lives, and you’ve never done it yourself? Oh brother.” He bit his lip to keep from grinning.

  Deimos narrowed his eyes to tiny slits of fury. “Laugh, jerk, and I turn you into a weed. We’re wasting time here. Details. Now.”

  “No.” Con pushed away from the doorjamb just in case Deimos tried to follow through on his threat. “What Mandy and I do together is our own business.”

  “But what will I tell Sparkle?” He looked horrified.

  Sparkle must be one scary lady if she could terrify the little guy like that. Con stomped down on his flicker of sympathy. He shrugged. “Tell her anything you want. Gotta go now.” He closed the door on Deimos’s whining, and then chuckled. A virgin. Who would’ve believed it.

  All thoughts of Deimos fled, however, as he turned to find Mandy coming out of his bathroom. As he turned out the light and then rolled over to take her in his arms, he realized he hadn’t felt this great in a long time. Ten years to be exact.

  Mandy’s singing had been known to scare small children, but that didn’t stop her now. Life was good. She’d had an incredible night of love followed by a productive day of shopping. When she got home from Houston, she’d checked to make sure Con had followed through on his promise to get rid of the blue butterflies. Yep, gone.

  They’d negotiated the blue butterfly deal after their third round of wild sex. He’d agreed to paint out the butterflies, and she’d agreed to let the snakes stay. In her new and giddier mood, she’d decided the snakes were kind of cute.

  Then she’d gone up to her room and changed into the white shorts and purple clingy top she’d bought. The new outfit symbolized a woman in transition. The white was the old and elegant. The purple was the new and bold.

  Mandy ratcheted up the volume on her song at the thought of her greatest triumph. After their fifth round of, by then, more leisurely lovemaking, Con had agreed to the cream walls. At first she thought he’d given in because he was too exhausted to argue, but he hadn’t tried to back out this morning.

  Mandy was no dummy, though. She remembered what happened when he agreed to paint the trim white. She’d be on the lookout for a sneak attack.

  Still singing . . . okay, it wasn’t technically singing. More like shouting off-key. But it made her feel good. Still singing, she hung up the red dress she’d bought today. A sexy little piece of silk guaranteed to bring Con to his knees. And who knew what erotic acts he could perform while in a kneeling position. She was dying to find out.

  Her song wavered for a moment as she considered the path she was committing to. She was having too much fun. She was already too wrapped up in Con. What would happen when it was time to walk away from Con and Galveston? From the first moment she’d seen him again, she’d recognized the danger. But like the lemmings that came before her, she was swimming out to meet her fate. The strange thing? She didn’t care. Mandy Harcourt had turned into a fatalist. What would happen, would happen.

  The tiny voice of reason hiding somewhere in her empty brain made a last pitch for common sense. You can still back off. Sleep in your own room. Stick strictly to business. Nope, wasn’t going to happen. She sang louder to drown out any other common sense her reason might throw at her.

  Mandy was making so much noise she almost didn’t hear the knock on her door. Con? She hurried to the door and flung it open.

  Sparkle Stardust swayed into the room trailing a sexual aura bright enough to blind Mandy. Short black skirt. Low cut black top. Gold sandals. Sparkle didn’t bend to seasonal fashion rules. She narrowed her spectacular amber gaze on Mandy.

  “I was bringing a few plants up to Con’s room when I heard the noise. It sounded like someone was murdering a cat slowly and painfully. I had to peek in to make sure Deimos hadn’t made a nuisance of himself.”

  Mandy wanted to be angry about Sparkle’s insult to her singing, but she knew it was true. “Plants? Why?” She peered around Sparkle into the hall where a cart loaded with greenery stood. “A few? Sheesh, there must be thirty plants on that cart. Does Con know you’re putting them in his room?”

  “Twenty-five. And Con doesn’t know. Do I look dumb? I’m going to put them in his room and run like hell.” She strolled over to the bed and sat down. “But it’s his own fault. I told Holgarth, who told the owner, about last night’s spectacular sexual extravaganza. And the owner immediately demanded that all the castle’s plants be transferred to Con’s room so they could share in the overflow of sensual energy.” She cast Mandy a curious glance. “That is where all the action is going down, isn’t it?”

  Mandy didn’t bother closing her gaping mouth, because it would only fall open again. “Spectacular sexual extravaganza? Who told you this story?”

  Sparkle shrugged. “An anonymous tip.” Her eyes gleamed with barely suppressed excitement. “Tell me all about it.”

  “No. You tell me, then we’ll both know.” Who? Okay, she could eliminate Con. He didn’t have loose lips. And no one else had been in the castle. Even with binoculars, no one could see much through the narrow arrow slits. Hidden cameras? Paranoid Central, Harcourt.

  Sparkle waved Mandy’s comment away. “This is no time for false modesty. I heard the foreplay lasted two hours.”

  “Two hours? I don’t—”

  “I heard you hung by your heels from the door frame while Con brought you to a screaming climax with his tongue.”

  “Door frame? I never—”

  “I heard he’s twelve inches long, and once you slid your magic lips over him, it was all over. Woo woo, you go girl!”

  “Twelve inches? He—”

  “Well, as much as I’d like to hear more of the luscious details, especially the ones about your intense multiple orgasms that left you absolutely begging for mercy, I have to get those plants into Con’s room before he shows up.” She rose and hurried from the room.

  Mandy knew her eyes must be glazed as she watched Sparkle unlock Con’s door and take the plants inside. A few minutes later, she came out and locked the door behind her. Before leaving, she stuck her head into Mandy’s room.

  “The owner will be ecstatic. Sweetie Pie grew three inches. Let’s hear it for great sex. Oh, and keep the purple. It’s you.”

  Mandy heard Sparkle drag the cart into the elevator, but she didn’t move from where she stood in the middle of the room. She was still standing there when Con walked in a few minutes later.

  “Mmm. A purple top. I’m a corrupting influence, but corruption definitely looks great on you.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the nape of her neck. “I met Sparkle as she was leaving. She looked seriously smug.”

  Mandy bent her neck to give him easier access. “And well she should. Obviously, we had a lot more fun last night than we realized.” She hit the high points and watched his eyes widen. “Oh, and we’re doing such a great job with Sweetie Pie and Jessica, the owner wants us to work our magic on twenty-five more
leafy friends.”

  Without speaking, Con strode from the room and unlocked his door. Mandy waited. Any second now . . .

  “What the hell is this?” His outraged shout made her wince. He answered his own question. “It’s a frickin’ jungle.”

  Mandy joined him as he stared at the roomful of plants. “Why don’t you jump into the shower, and then we can go get something to eat.” She surreptitiously checked for hidden cameras.

  Without comment, he headed for the bathroom, leaving her alone with the plants. “Sorry, girls, but you’re out of luck tonight.” No way could she make love here with Con tonight. Just the thought of all those leaves watching them gave her goose bumps. Good grief, Sparkle was making her crazy.

  Con pulled out of Guido’s parking lot onto Sea Wall Boulevard and drove toward the west end of the island. Over dinner, Mandy had tried to come up with the identity of the idiot spreading crazy rumors about their sex lives. Con pretended bafflement. Mandy wouldn’t want to have the kids of a man who talked to cats.

  Kids? His spontaneous thought startled him so much he almost drove his truck off the road. Where had that come from? From the little over a week they’d been together? Or had it lain dormant all these years, waiting to pop out and surprise him? And what did it really mean? You know what it means.

  “Where’re we going?” Mandy stared past him at the Gulf.

  “To the place of perfect memories.” He looked over at her and grinned. “The place of blue butterflies and black roses.”

  “Oh.” And that’s all she said until he eased the truck to the side of the road.

  “Ten years have changed a few things.” He stared at the line of beach houses. Ten years ago buildings were sparse this far west on the island.

  “No kidding.” He didn’t miss the regret in her voice.

  “With all the new houses, this beach is off-limits for the truck now, but we could get out and walk.” It was off-limits for lovemaking, too, unless they wanted to outrage all the weekend visitors.

  She shook her head, her gaze pensive. “I guess that old quote, ‘You can never go home again,’ is right.”

  “But you can make a new home.” With me. Now that sounded like a man thinking about a serious commitment. It should scare him more than it did. “Guess we better get back to the castle.”

  “Right.” Mandy stared straight ahead at the gathering darkness for the rest of the drive.

  Con let quiet fill the cab, because he wasn’t feeling too talkative either. Once inside the castle, he decided to work on his project for a while. The air around them was too emotionally charged. If he went upstairs with her, he’d want to make love to her, and that might lead to him admitting something that would make her uncomfortable.

  “I’ll be working down in the dungeon if you need me.”

  She simply nodded and headed for the elevator.

  Exhaling deeply, he strode to the steps leading down to the dungeon, flipped on the lights, and descended to the Castle of Dark Dreams’ ghoulish room of horror. Mandy would hate it. Dark gray walls. Dripping blood. Chains. Diabolic instruments of pain. He loved it.

  Good thing she was still too busy with the rest of the castle to worry about this room. When she found time, she’d want him to paint the walls cream while she artistically arranged flowered rugs and potted plants to make it more homey.

  All right, so he wasn’t being fair. Except for her cream walls, she’d done a great job so far.

  He’d barely started working when Deimos padded into the room. For once he was glad to see the cat. They had a major issue to deal with—whether Deimos lived or died. “Why the hell did you tell Sparkle those lies?”

  Deimos blinked up at him. “You told me to tell her anything I wanted. Hey, I did you a favor. I made you sound like the hottest thing to ever hit the island. Twelve inches, man. Women’ll be lined up along Sea Wall Boulevard once the story spreads. So when are you guys doing it again?” “

  “You’re assuming you’ll live to report on it?” He narrowed his gaze on Deimos, and the cat backed up.

  “You gotta tell me something.” He padded over to take a closer look at Con’s project. “Or not. I have a great imagination.”

  Con took a threatening stride toward him.

  Deimos looked a little nervous. “Well, gotta go.” He edged past Con to the door. “Just so you know I’m really an okay guy, I’ll tell you a secret. Mandy’s thinking of staying.” Then he was gone.

  She was thinking of staying.

  Mandy turned in front of her mirror to get a look at the red dress from all angles.

  She’d done a mental tally sheet. Con on one side, New York on the other.

  Hmm, the dress didn’t cover very much. Good. It was all swirly and girly, and almost but not quite showed everything. A total tease.

  Back to her tally sheet. Con—made her laugh. New York—her career. Con—made her mad, but she got a rush from arguing with him. New York—her career. Con—made her heart pound and her blood run hot. New York—her career. Con—made her feel beautiful, desired, and . . . Hmm . . . she saw a pattern forming here.

  Ten years ago, she’d needed New York. She’d believed that true acceptance in the interior design field meant being successful in one of the greatest cities in the world. Did she still need New York? Did she still want New York if it meant leaving Con behind again? She’d pretty much answered that question on their drive back, but she’d needed her tally sheet to make it official.

  She slipped on the red sandals she’d bought to go with the dress. Time to take a look at the dungeon. And even as she left her room, walked down the winding steps, hurried across the great hall, and descended the final set of steps to the dungeon, she wondered if Con wanted her to stay.

  As soon as she stepped into the dungeon, she started talking. Nerves. The more she cared, the more power Con had to make her babble. “Ugh, I can’t believe this room. Blood, gore, and really gruesome accessories. Can we say unoriginal? I—”

  Silence wrapped around her as she saw what Con was working on. A large painting. She moved closer. Right in the middle was . . . ohmigod! Her bare butt. She knew it was hers because it had a blue butterfly on it. Mandy had already opened her mouth to shriek when she looked at Con for the first time. She closed her mouth.

  Sure, he looked wary. How else would he look when faced with the Medusa? But there was something else in his eyes. A vulnerability she hadn’t seen before. She took a second look at the mural.

  If she could get past her butt, she’d admit he had talent. The scene showed a sunny day, and in the background was a hill with a castle that looked a lot like the Castle of Dark Dreams. In the forefront was a meadow surrounded by trees and filled with bluebonnets. One huge oak dominated the scene. Two lovers lay among the flowers, half hidden behind the tree. Too bad the wrong half was showing. Her bare behind was front and center. For the first time, she took a closer look at the man. There wasn’t as much of him showing, because her bottom hogged the show. But when she looked really close, she saw the black rose on his bare hip.

  “And you were inspired to create this why?” She would not shout.

  “I started this the first day you arrived. I figured it’d look great on one of the great hall’s walls.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  Over my dry and shriveled corpse. “Uh-huh. I guess that’s why you agreed to the cream walls without a fight.” Maybe she was finally getting a sense of humor about her behind, because the whole thing was kind of funny.

  “Well, I figured you deserved to have three walls painted the way you wanted them, because this baby would be hanging on the fourth.” He put down the brush he still held in his hand and moved toward her. “I decided to paint myself into the picture three days ago.”

  “This painting yourself into the picture, does it have a symbolic meaning?” She forced herself to breathe normally.

  “Yes.” He held her gaze. “I don’t want you out there by yourself. I want to be w
ith you.”

  Mandy exhaled the breath she’d sworn she wouldn’t hold. She glanced around the room again. “This room, as gothic as it is, does have possibilities.” She twirled in front of him, and knew exactly what he could see as the skirt flared. Panties were so nonessential in her seduction plans. “I wore my best dress, and I came to play.”

  His eyes darkened. “It’s the sexiest dress I’ve ever seen. Take it off.”

  “Nope.” She hoped her smile was suitably provocative. “You owe me for this painting. I’ve always fantasized about having a hunky man chained naked and helpless in my very own dungeon.”

  “And you were naked, too?”

  He looked so hopeful. Too bad she’d have to disappoint him. “Never. In my fantasy, I keep my clothes on. It’s a power thing.”

  “And then what happens?” He looked disappointed but intrigued.

  “I torture you with my mouth and, umm, other body parts until you scream for mercy.” Her smile widened. “And then, sometimes, if you’ve amused me, I free you.”

  His gaze darkened. “I wouldn’t count on me screaming for mercy any time soon.”

  Mandy brightened. “No? Great. I hope it takes a long time.” She moved up close and tugged at his T-shirt. “Take it off.”

  Without comment, he pulled it over his head. The pure visual impact of his wide muscular chest always wrung a small startled gasp from her. You’d think she’d be used to it by now. Maybe some natural wonders never lose their ability to awe.

  Still silent, he discarded his sandals, and slid his jeans over his lean hips. Red briefs. Why was she not surprised? And she absolutely had not bought a red dress as a cheap ploy to turn him on. It hadn’t been cheap at all, and American Express would back her up.

  He hooked his thumbs over the briefs, but before he could slide them down, she put her hands over his thumbs. “I’d like to do the honors.”

  Con nodded and dropped his hands to his side. Kneeling on the concrete floor, Mandy pulled them over his powerful thighs and then let them fall to the floor where he kicked them out of the way.