nodded,
coolly
.
Stella started counting down from ten minutes—hoping for five.
She also hoped looks couldn't actually kill, or she was in trouble. Kirsty was shooting daggers at her, and what had been no more than a hackneyed cliche took on sinister implications. No way was she going to stand close to Miss Blonde Bombshell with those little plastic daggers for olives and cherries in a cup on the bar.
Buddy talked about Marky B's newest issue from cover to cover, which saved Stella from having to do more than nod and smile. With her thoughts pretty much focused on the post-ten-minute activities, actual conversation was a stretch.
After passing around the requested drinks, Danny came to stand by Stella. "Take the Coke with you," he murmured, slipping his arm around her waist. "I'll show you the house." He smiled at his guests. "See you in the morning. You know where everything is."
"Aren't we going to skinny-dip before we call it a night?" Kirsty lasered Danny with a meaningful glance. "We
always
do."
Buddy decided diplomacy was in order. "It's getting late," he suggested.
Kirsty gave Buddy a disgusted look. "Since when do we go to bed before dawn when we're partying at Rees's?"
It went quiet; you could suddenly hear the frogs croaking in the marshes.
A three count went by.
"I had enough swimming today," Danny said. "Count me out."
"I remember not too long ago when you
loved
skinny-dipping," Kirsty purred.
Danny didn't move a muscle, no blink… nothing. "Not tonight." His voice was neutral as hell. "If anyone gets hungry, there's food in the pool house kitchen." He turned to Stella. "Ready?"
About ten minutes ago. "Sure. Whenever."
Kirsty stepped forward, blocking their path, her boobs leading the parade. "You're not being very sociable, Rees."
"Sorry. Some other time, Kirsty. I'm expecting an early call in the morning."
Her gaze narrowed, a sullen scowl marred her perfect brows. "If I'd known you were going to be a recluse, I wouldn't have come."
"I could call you a cab." A get-off-my-back coolness in his voice.
Kirsty's baby blues gave off little resentful sparks. "Marisa says you can be hard to handle. I'll have to tell her she's right. And I don't need a cab. Brian will give me a ride home."
So some girlfriend thought he was hard to handle—not that Stella was laboring under the delusion Danny Rees was a monk. But he'd better not make any more comments about her sketches when he was living
la dolce vita
.
"You have yourself a great night," Danny said, as though he was immune to resentful women and, moving around Kirsty, he guided Stella toward the door, not sure he was home free, but hopeful. With Kirsty, one never knew. She was into tantrums.
"She looked real unhappy," Stella murmured as they moved out of earshot.
"Kirsty can be a prima donna."
"That must be why you like her around."
He wasn't going there. "She's Buddy's friend more than mine."
"She seems to like
you
though."
"Could we not talk about Kirsty?" There was no point in arguing about a woman he'd never slept with for a reason. Prima donnas weren't his style.
"We could make a deal I suppose."
He turned and met her gaze. "I'm sure we could." He grinned. "Where do I sign?"
"You're very trusting. You hardly know me."
"Hardly?" He smiled. "I envy the guy who knows you better."
"Perhaps in time you'll be fully enlightened," she said, perjuring herself just for effect. He was too sure of himself.
"What the hell does that mean?" He knew what it meant; he just wasn't sure he cared to think about it.
It worked. What a frown. Sweet. "Nothing. I shouldn't have said it," she murmured, wondering how to look blase and worldly.
He hesitated, not sure if he was pissed off or not. What the fuck was wrong with him? He wasn't pissed off—okay? Where was he? Oh, yeah, not talking about Kirsty. "Okay," he said. "So what's your deal?"
"Do you like being tied up?"
He shot her a glance. "You don't seem the type." He'd just fucked her every which
coolly
.
Stella started counting down from ten minutes—hoping for five.
She also hoped looks couldn't actually kill, or she was in trouble. Kirsty was shooting daggers at her, and what had been no more than a hackneyed cliche took on sinister implications. No way was she going to stand close to Miss Blonde Bombshell with those little plastic daggers for olives and cherries in a cup on the bar.
Buddy talked about Marky B's newest issue from cover to cover, which saved Stella from having to do more than nod and smile. With her thoughts pretty much focused on the post-ten-minute activities, actual conversation was a stretch.
After passing around the requested drinks, Danny came to stand by Stella. "Take the Coke with you," he murmured, slipping his arm around her waist. "I'll show you the house." He smiled at his guests. "See you in the morning. You know where everything is."
"Aren't we going to skinny-dip before we call it a night?" Kirsty lasered Danny with a meaningful glance. "We
always
do."
Buddy decided diplomacy was in order. "It's getting late," he suggested.
Kirsty gave Buddy a disgusted look. "Since when do we go to bed before dawn when we're partying at Rees's?"
It went quiet; you could suddenly hear the frogs croaking in the marshes.
A three count went by.
"I had enough swimming today," Danny said. "Count me out."
"I remember not too long ago when you
loved
skinny-dipping," Kirsty purred.
Danny didn't move a muscle, no blink… nothing. "Not tonight." His voice was neutral as hell. "If anyone gets hungry, there's food in the pool house kitchen." He turned to Stella. "Ready?"
About ten minutes ago. "Sure. Whenever."
Kirsty stepped forward, blocking their path, her boobs leading the parade. "You're not being very sociable, Rees."
"Sorry. Some other time, Kirsty. I'm expecting an early call in the morning."
Her gaze narrowed, a sullen scowl marred her perfect brows. "If I'd known you were going to be a recluse, I wouldn't have come."
"I could call you a cab." A get-off-my-back coolness in his voice.
Kirsty's baby blues gave off little resentful sparks. "Marisa says you can be hard to handle. I'll have to tell her she's right. And I don't need a cab. Brian will give me a ride home."
So some girlfriend thought he was hard to handle—not that Stella was laboring under the delusion Danny Rees was a monk. But he'd better not make any more comments about her sketches when he was living
la dolce vita
.
"You have yourself a great night," Danny said, as though he was immune to resentful women and, moving around Kirsty, he guided Stella toward the door, not sure he was home free, but hopeful. With Kirsty, one never knew. She was into tantrums.
"She looked real unhappy," Stella murmured as they moved out of earshot.
"Kirsty can be a prima donna."
"That must be why you like her around."
He wasn't going there. "She's Buddy's friend more than mine."
"She seems to like
you
though."
"Could we not talk about Kirsty?" There was no point in arguing about a woman he'd never slept with for a reason. Prima donnas weren't his style.
"We could make a deal I suppose."
He turned and met her gaze. "I'm sure we could." He grinned. "Where do I sign?"
"You're very trusting. You hardly know me."
"Hardly?" He smiled. "I envy the guy who knows you better."
"Perhaps in time you'll be fully enlightened," she said, perjuring herself just for effect. He was too sure of himself.
"What the hell does that mean?" He knew what it meant; he just wasn't sure he cared to think about it.
It worked. What a frown. Sweet. "Nothing. I shouldn't have said it," she murmured, wondering how to look blase and worldly.
He hesitated, not sure if he was pissed off or not. What the fuck was wrong with him? He wasn't pissed off—okay? Where was he? Oh, yeah, not talking about Kirsty. "Okay," he said. "So what's your deal?"
"Do you like being tied up?"
He shot her a glance. "You don't seem the type." He'd just fucked her every which
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