Declan Trent and Pam Donaldson are both divorced and neither is anxious to become entangled in another romantic relationship. But then there’s the sex angle.
How can they obtain satisfying liaisons without the entanglements that go with it? The answer is simple—they will become sex buddies.
It’s an arrangement that works exceedingly well. In fact, it sizzles. Never has either met a person they were more compatible with—trust,
adventure, play, and soul-screaming fulfillment. Do they dare take the step they swore they’d always avoid? Why not?
Then the murders begin. One by one Declan’s patients are being eliminated. How far will their trust of each other go now? As the pieces of the puzzle
come together, they realize someone else has an agenda. Someone who will do anything, kill anyone, to keep what he or she considers “MINE.”
EXCERPT
Chapter One
Pam Donaldson scissored her crossed legs while she
casually flipped through a three-month-old issue of Good Housekeeping. At least she hoped it looked like she was being
casual. Waiting like this fired her up until it was all she could do to sit
still. She wondered what Declan Trent’s
prim little secretary -- oops! admin assistant -- would
think if she jumped up and started pacing a mean streak back and forth across
the burnished-gold carpeting.
Probably call the
paramedics to have me hauled away. Pam suspected it wouldn’t take much to
freak Trish Wallace out. She’d die on the spot if she knew why Pam was really
here.
The woman sat on the edge of her seat, perched over her
computer keyboard as if she had a pole up her ass. Hair spray welded every
strand of her shoulder-length blond hair in place. No wave, split end, or frizz
dared disobey. Her cotton-candy-pink suit was just the right length, just the
right size, and just the right shade to match her perfectly manicured nails. Real nails, not acrylics. How many women
would kill to have nails that perfect? Pam’s nails were nice, but they weren’t that perfect. With her light blue eyes,
Trish looked like a china doll someone would seal behind protective glass,
pretty to look at, but nothing you were allowed to touch or, heaven forbid,
play with.
Pam wondered if that was a façade Trish showed to the
world. If behind the hands-off automaton exterior lay a woman of wild and
uninhibited passion. It was hard to reconcile that picture with what Pam saw
here.
Trish kept her desk perfectly ordered, not one folder out
of place. Pam had been tempted a time or two to link all the paperclips in
Trish’s lead crystal bowl together just to see how the woman would react. She
certainly had the opportunity. Each time Pam visited, Trish would go to the
ladies’ room at precisely eleven-twenty. At heart, she couldn’t be that cruel,
no matter how much the woman’s idiosyncrasies grated on her nerves.
So Trish was obsessive-compulsive. Why should Pam care? In
fact, she was in the perfect occupation to seek counseling for her problem if
she wanted. As psychiatrists go, Declan Trent was one of the best. For all Pam
knew, maybe Trish was a patient,
especially if two diverse personalities existed in that prim and proper mind of
hers. If so, Declan sure had his work cut out for him. Pam had never seen
anyone so uptight.
She wondered if she should tell Declan that Trish actually
raked the footprints out of the plush carpet each time the waiting room was
vacant. Pam had caught her in the act shortly after she’d started seeing
Declan. That’s when Trish’s little habits started to burrow under Pam’s skin.
Little Miss Perfect.
Pam knew from experience the woman was most probably a ticking bomb. She’d seen
it too many times in her line of work -- women for whom perfection
was a lifestyle, a religion. However, it was never enough to keep their
husbands from straying or their children out of trouble. Problem after problem
pounded against the illusion they’d created, slowly loosening each brick until
the foundation crumbled and they were staring down at the blood-splattered
butcher knife -- or smoking gun -- in their shaking hands.
Just the week before, Pam had responded to a homicide at
just such a house, an art deco mansion perched back from the winding curves of
the Hollywood Hills. The wife made the 9-1-1 call in perfect, orderly fashion. “I’ve just killed my husband and would
appreciate it if someone would stop by to remove him.” They’d arrived to
find her mopping up the crime scene, rubber gloves and a bucket full of Mr.
Clean at her side.
Pam would hate to see Trish turn out that way. She was a
good person, pleasant and sociable to all Declan’s clients, and very efficient.
All Declan needed to do was think about it, and Trish had it done. Pam wanted
to snatch her up by the shoulders and give her a hard snap-out-of-it shake. The
last thing she wanted was to arrive at a homicide call and find Trish on her
hands and knees cleaning up blood spatter.
She tossed the magazine to the glass-topped table beside
her. Trish jumped at the loud smack
it made. Then, like clockwork, she pushed away from her desk for her
eleven-twenty trek to the ladies’ room.
“I’ll just be a moment, Detective Donaldson,” she said in
a smoothly cultured tone that never varied; neither did the words.
Pam gave her a nod as she walked by. Even her shoes were
pink.
Just let it go,
she told herself. She was here for one reason and one reason only. That should be her focus.
She crossed her arms and slowly rocked her leg back and
forth. Without panties, the action gently rubbed her moist labia over her
swollen clitoris. Every part of her was primed for her visit with Declan, but
if she didn’t pace herself, she’d wind up coming right here.
Pam forced her legs apart. God, she could smell her
arousal! Maybe going without panties wasn’t such a good idea. She tugged her
black pencil-skirt to her knees, then adjusted the cuffs of her smoke-gray silk
blouse. The skirt and the three-inch black heels were a departure from what she
normally wore to work, but she considered it more appropriate since she had to
testify in court this afternoon -- with panties, of course. Besides, she really liked the naughty
feeling of coming to see Declan bare-bottomed.
The thought made her smile. What would he do when he found
out? A shiver wiggled through her. Trish’s return shattered her reverie. Pam shifted
her focus to studying the waiting room.
Cream-colored walls brightened the place. Matching leather
chairs cradled visitors in comfort. Watercolors of varying
landscapes -- rolling hills, seashores, deep forests,
mountains -- helped create an aura of tranquility. No music flooded
the room, just the soft, steady click of Trish’s keyboard.
Pam cocked her head to one side. Maybe that was it. Maybe
Trish was part of the illusion of order in the turmoil of some clients’ lives.
She’d never thought of it that way. In retrospect, it made perfect sense.
Perhaps it was by Declan’s design that Trish behaved as she did. Pam had just
let the horrors of her own job spill over. She wouldn’t be the first cop to
become jaded by the discouraging vicissitudes of life.
The door to Declan’s office swung inward. “Now remember,
Carol, the group session for tomorrow night is cancelled. I’ll be at a
conference.”
The buxom redhead glanced up at him with wide brown eyes. “Oh,
dear. I’d forgotten.” She draped her fingers over his bare forearm as she
stepped into his personal space. “What will I do?”
Declan gave her a soft smile -- the one that
always turned Pam’s insides to mush -- and placed his hand over that
of the redhead’s. “You’ll do wonderfully. You’ll see. I wouldn’t go away if I
thought otherwise.”
Pam smiled when the woman’s face lit up. That’s one of the
things that was great about Declan. He instinctively knew what to say to
patients to bolster their self-confidence, or when a gentle touch would ease
their concerns and give them hope. Sadly, it was that bedside manner that had
ruined his marriage. Connie Trent lived and breathed jealousy and had made
Declan’s life a living hell in the process. Despite that, Declan remained
friendly and compassionate toward others.
“Yes. Yes, I will
be fine. Thanks to you.” Shoulders back, Carol walked to Trish’s desk to
schedule her next session.
Pam’s gaze remained riveted on Declan. Even after six
months, he still had the power to take her breath away. His dark brown hair
scuffed the collar of his white dress shirt. Long fingers smoothed down his
blue-striped tie as he raked his gaze over her from head to toe. A smile lifted
one corner of his mouth, brightening his golden-brown eyes. She could scarcely
breathe. Then he shut the door.
She forced herself to sit still, to wait until Trish
called her to go in. Did he realize what he did to her? Of course he did. It
was all part of the game.
She tucked her arms tighter over her chest. Already her
nipples were poking their little noses against her bra, making their presence
fully known to anyone who’d care to look. God, how they ached! Had it really
only been fourteen hours since she’d had sex? It felt like forever.
As Carol left the office, Trish’s intercom link buzzed. She
lifted the phone in what felt like slow motion.
“Yes, doctor?”
Jeez, her voice actually sounded like a purr. Pam was
definitely more than little over-sexed today. But that’s what being with Declan
did to her.
Trish smiled as she replaced the receiver. “Dr. Trent is
ready to see you now.”
And Pam was more than ready to see him. She flashed Trish
a smile and forced herself to walk, not run, to the connecting door. The knob
turned easily under her hand. The door opened on silent hinges. The pale gold,
vertical blinds were closed against the California
midday sun, but brass candlestick lamps on the white pine tables cast a
welcoming glow. Declan sat behind his oak desk, chin resting on the points of
his fingers as he quietly perused her from the huge black leather executive
chair.
Pam shut the door behind her, then leaned against it as
she let her shoulder bag slide to the floor. The soft, black leather landed
with a plop. Her heartbeat thudded
with the rush of her heated blood. All she could see, all she could think about
was him. That half smile lifted one corner of his mouth again. His gaze
mentally stripped her clothing away.
“Detective Donaldson.” His voice drifted over her,
beckoning, caressing like fingers against her hot skin.
She maintained her position. “Dr. Trent.”
Two could play the waiting game. The rewards were still
the same. She twisted the lock closed on the door. The click echoed in the
room.
“Are you armed, detective?” he asked.
“Yes. My weapon is holstered and in my bag. And you? Are
you armed?”
“Cocked and ready, ma’am.”
Pam tried not to laugh, but the giggle came out anyway. “Oh,
really?”
Declan leaned back and tugged the knot loose on his tie. “Yep,
I’ve been hard as a rock since I saw your name on the schedule this morning.”
“I couldn’t let you go away to a conference without a
proper send-off. And I know how you like surprises.”
“I do.”
“How fortunate you can find room in your schedule to
accommodate me.”
“I’m always willing to squeeze in you.”
Pam parked her hands on her hips and laughed. “Stop that.
This is supposed to be a seduction. I can’t do the come-hither look and fuck-me
walk if you have me laughing.”
He tossed back a laugh of his own. “Sorry. Proceed with
the come-hithering and fuck-me stuff.”
“Thank you.” She took a step toward him.
He held up his hand, halting her progress. “No closer,
Pam. You know the rules. You know what I want.”
Damn it, he knew how to fire a woman up. “Refresh my
memory. Tell me.”
He pressed his lips together, then licked them as he pulled
the tie free. It whispered against his shirt, a soft sigh that wiggled deep
into her core. He twined the length of silk through his long fingers, tying a
knot every inch or so in it as he pondered his next move.
“I see you’re wearing hose today. And I love the heels.”
“A concession for court.”
He tsked. “And here I thought they were for me.”
She mirrored his earlier smile. “Well, the hose are thigh-highs and --” She dropped
her tone to a sultry purr. “-- I have no panties on.”
That earned her a big grin. “My, aren’t we daring and
naughty. That’s almost like begging for a spanking.”
“You have repeatedly assured me your office is soundproof.”
“Indeed it is.” He flicked open his belt buckle. Seconds
later the leather hissed through its loops. Declan doubled it over and placed
it on his desk, the knotted silk tie beside it.
Pam’s knees quivered. So far they’d never gotten into the
spanking thing here; just the threat was enough to turn them both on.
He truly was the best sex she’d ever had. Six months and she
still couldn’t get enough of him. If only ...
“Undo your blouse ... slowly,” he ordered.
One by one, she slipped the tiny pearlized buttons through
their holes. With each one Declan’s breath became more labored. She knew what
his desk hid -- an erection that would have made a horse proud. With
the last button freed, Pam shrugged the blouse from her shoulders. It wafted to
the floor behind her.
“And now the bra.” His voice had deepened with his lust.
Pam reached behind her and undid the hooks. Rather than
let the bra fall as she had the blouse, she looped her fingers around the
straps and slowly pulled them down, caressing her flesh as she did so. Fully
exposed, she dropped the undergarment and kneaded her breasts, plumping them
together to form a deep cleavage.
“You want to fuck my tits, don’t you?” she asked. “Nestle
your cock into the warmth and pump away?”
“You’re determined to make me come in my pants, aren’t
you?”
Pam laughed and twirled her nipples into elongated beads.
“Damn it, Pam. I am
going to spank you.”
“Promises, promises.”
“Enough teasing. Skirt off.”
She sliced the zipper down, wiggled her hips free, and
stepped out of the garment.
“Good girl.” He pushed his chair away from the desk. “Leave
the heels and hose on and come here. You know what I want.”
Did she ever! She’d never been more in tune with a man.
Sex was a wondrous adventure with Declan. Nothing was forbidden as long as they
wanted to explore. Trust they’d built during their long-standing friendship had
shifted easily over into this facet of their relationship. They were free to
explore every sexual fantasy they’d ever had without embarrassment, risk of
disease, or pregnancy. Who knew agreeing to be sex buddies would be so rewarding?
His wrinkle-free trousers did little to hide his
burgeoning erection. If anything, the light gray color enhanced it. His cock
was a long ridge behind his zipper and actually managed to cast a shadow from
the lighting.
Hot fingers cupped her ass as she straddled his thighs. As
she had her blouse, Pam slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Inch by inch the bronzed
plane of his chest appeared. She loved to trace her hands against it, to dust
her fingers through the light smattering of dark hair that nose-dived into his
trousers.
Declan’s breath was ragged. So was Pam’s. She indulged her
need to caress his strong shoulders as she peeled the shirt from him. His scent
surrounded her, warm and laced with the hint of Old Spice. She leaned in,
pressing her lips against his neck, dancing her tongue across his collarbone
while her fingers flicked against his nipples.
His soft groan escaped on a gasp. Pam wiggled lower,
grazing her teeth over his nipple while her fingers eased his zipper down. He
lifted his hips, helping her tug trousers and shorts down. His erection fell
against her breasts. She squeezed them together, cradling him, then bent her
head down and lashed her tongue against the salty droplet that awaited her.
Declan cried out. Combing his hands deep into her long
hair, he held her head in place, desperately seeking the full comfort of her
mouth while he thrust between her breasts. Still she teased with feathery
flicks over the slit and around the head.
“If you don’t suck me soon ...” A long groan cut off
the rest of his words as Pam pulled him deep in her mouth.
He pumped her lips in wild abandon. She looped her fist
around the base, giving him that extra squeeze and stroke he loved so
well -- that touch that said, “I might let you come, but then again,
I might not.”
More pre-cum salted her mouth. He was close. She wiggled
her free hand between his thighs to massage his sac. It was the final push he
needed. She felt the twitch on the underside of his cock that signaled his
approaching orgasm. Still, the temptation to taunt him was too much. She gave
an extra hard squeeze to the base of his cock.
“Nooo,” he cried out. “I swear I’m going to ...”
She sucked him hard, yanking the orgasm from him.
Declan shuddered as the release spurted into her mouth.
She milked him until the wave subsided, then slowly released him with dotted
kisses as the erection faded.
Panting for breath, he grabbed her around the waist and
hoisted her to his desk. “Lie back and relax.”
She watched through hooded eyes as he picked up his
knotted tie. Tightening it between his hands, he lowered it to her crotch and
raked it over her slit.
Pam arched her hips off the desk as the knots rubbed over
her clit. “Oh, God!”
He sawed back and forth, gathering momentum as she climbed
higher to the peak. Her fingers flexed spasmodically on the smooth wood
surface, desperate to clutch at something, anything to help her ride to the
top. All she could do was take it. Each swipe swelled her to the breaking
point.
Almost there.
Almost ...
Her body was rigid with anticipation. Just when she saw
the edge, Declan stopped.
“No!” She smacked her palms against the desk.
He merely laughed and thrust two fingers deep and high
into her cunt. Pam reared upward with a gasp. A third finger burrowed into her
tight ass. He lashed his tongue over her clit as his fingers pumped into her. She
cradled his head with one hand while the other toyed with her nipple, tweaking
it hard. Then he sucked her into his mouth.
Fire raced across her skin seconds before Pam’s orgasm
struck. She quaked with the release, then collapsed against the desk.
Declan dotted kisses over her inner thighs as he gently
pulled his fingers free. She’d never felt more relaxed. He always had that
effect on her.
Grasping her hand, he helped her up. At least that’s what
she thought. Before Pam realized it, she was facedown over his lap. The tinkle
of his belt buckle alerted her to his full intent.
“How many, sweetheart?” He danced the leather over her
bare ass. Just the feel was enough to turn her on once more.
“I want ... I want ...”
“To feel your warm ass the rest of the afternoon? To think
about it when you’re sitting outside the courtroom while we wait to testify?”
Over and over the soft leather caressed her.
Pam spread her legs a little wider. “You know what I want.”
He always knew, just as she knew for him.
“Indeed I do.”
He started slow, warming her for the harder strokes to
come. With each smack against her bare bottom, her clit swelled more, begging
for attention of its own. She wiggled around until she could ride his knee.
Declan pulled her gently back into place, wedging his free hand under and
straight to her pussy.
The strokes came harder now, faster, her hips lifting of
their own accord for each of them. She came quickly, only to be instantly back
at the peak. Pam rode his hand while smack after smack heated her backside, and
one orgasm after the other rolled through her.
Declan growled low in his throat and tossed the belt to
the floor. Hauling her upright, he pushed her facedown on the desk. She raised
her hips high, spreading her thighs as far as she could. A hard thrust seated
him deep. He froze there for what felt like forever, the head of his cock
plugged into her cervix. His fingers dug into her hips, shaking with the effort
to maintain control.
Pam kept herself as still as possible, wanting the moment
to be as supreme for him as it was for her. Finally, he pulled back, then in
again. He shifted his fingers back to her clit. She rocked in rhythm with him,
taking and giving back each thrust with equal fervor. Contractions rippled
along the steel inside her.
“I’m going to come, Dec,” she panted out.
He gasped. “Me, too.”
And in that instant, they did.
They sagged together in the aftermath, both lazy and
sated. Then, reluctantly, they pulled apart and wandered into his adjoining
bathroom to clean up.
The tiny room was designed for function -- sink
with mirror, toilet, tiny black-and-white tile -- definitely not for
two people. Nevertheless, sharing the bathroom was part of their after-sex
routine. Somehow, this snippet of bonding had slipped under their “rules” radar,
along with cuddling. So far, neither had brought that violation to the other’s
attention.
“I owe you a tie,” she said.
“I’ll just send it to the cleaner.”
Eyes wide, she jerked up her head and locked gazes with
him in the mirror over the sink. “Don’t you dare!” she said with a laugh. “They’ll
want to know what they’re pre-spotting and ...”
His laughter cut her off. Tugging her against him, he
dotted kisses along her shoulder. “I’ll seal it in a brown paper bag and toss
it in a Dumpster five miles away.”
“After you burn it and stir the ashes. Better yet, I’ll
take it and destroy the evidence.”
“Deal.” He stepped away to pee.
She plucked several paper towels from the receptacle, wet
them, and cleaned away the evidence of sex.
“You’ll be gone the rest of the week?” How could she begin
to tell him how much she was going to miss him during that time? It wasn’t
supposed to be like this. They’d set rules. And yet ...
“Yeah, I’ll be back late Friday. Want me to call or just
come over?”
Pam smiled as his reflection reappeared in the mirror. “Coming
over is fine. Doesn’t matter how late.” She didn’t have plans. Hell, she hadn’t
had plans since they’d started up.
“Good. I’ll come right over, then. Stinky from the drive
and everything.” He smiled back and patted her butt as he slipped the wet
towels from her fingers to use on himself.
That’s what she
called bonding. “And I’ll have a hot shower and a hot woman waiting for you.”
“Every guy’s dream come true.” He bent forward as if to
kiss her, then pulled back. “Sorry. I almost forgot.”
Pam wished he had forgotten and kissed her. That was one
of the rules they’d agreed on when they decided to be sex
buddies -- no kissing. Where the hell had her head been? It seemed a
great idea at the time: no kissing, no dating, no spending the night. How in
the world could she have possibly thought she could have great sex with a man
and not have emotional involvement? Her hormones had obviously been running her
life then. And now?
Well, they were still running her life, but her heart was
demanding some equal attention. Which left her with quite a problem. Did she
risk what they had going and tell Declan she’d made a mistake? That she wanted
to move up to the next level and actually have a romantic relationship as well?
They’d been adamant, both of them. Once badly burned,
twice shy. Bad marriages had that effect on people. But that was then, when
they were both so horny they couldn’t bear it. When teaming up with a trusted
friend for sex seemed a better solution than throwing themselves into the
treacherous world of dating where your heart was sure to be trampled on.
“So I’ll see you then.”
Pam snapped her thoughts back to the present. “Yes,
Friday.”
Declan laughed. God, she loved his laugh. “Well, yes,
Friday, but I was talking about this afternoon at the courthouse.”
She blinked. “Yes, of course.”
“Were you a thousand miles away just then?” He wrapped his
arm around her waist and hugged her against him.
Pam forced a smile she suddenly didn’t feel. “Looks like.”
She didn’t have the courage to tell him. They had a good
thing going. Why risk it by telling him that at some point during the last six
months, her heart had ignored the sex buddy rules and fallen truly, madly,
deeply in love with him?
