Free Sticks and Stone by Jennifer Dunne

moment later by Dermot. He
slid his key into the slot at the top of the elevator panel and turned it. The
letter “P” lit up with a pleasant chime.
    He removed his key, finishing just as the elevator doors
closed, and turned to take her in his arms.
    Eileen sidestepped him. “What was that about?”
    “Clarence’s grandson is a talented musician. He’s trying
to get into one of the orchestras. They’ve already called him back once.”
    “That’s nice. But I meant, why are you all over me as
soon as we’re alone, but when we’re where anyone can see us, you act like you
hardly know me?”
    Dermot’s eyes widened, as if she’d asked why water was
wet. “Because anyone could see us.”
    “And…?” she prompted, feeling foolish but needing to
know his reason. Did he want to keep her his guilty secret?
    He sighed, and leaned back against the elevator wall.
“Images sell stories. The news rags won’t invent a scandal if they have no
pictures to support it.”
    The elevator chimed again. When the doors slid open, she
darted through them, into a brown and gray marble foyer. Two glass-topped
tables, each filled with a massive floral arrangement in a marble urn, flanked
the single door.
    Dermot unlocked the door and ushered her inside. She
pushed past him into his black leather and wire-work living room.
    The open wire shelves held an entertainment system,
including a home theater, easily a hundred CD’s, and hardcover business books,
interspersed with small sculptures and decorative glass bowls and vases that
provided the room’s only color. The couch and accent chairs were all
upholstered in black leather. Sheer panels of black and white gauze draped over
the sliding glass door leading to a roof garden.
    He closed and locked the door, then turned to face her.
“My driver will leave your luggage in the foyer.”
    “Am I your secret scandal, Dermot? Is that why you
weren’t officially at the airport to meet me?”
      “No!” He pushed
his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. Waving one hand at the couch,
he told her, “Sit. This will take a while.”
    She glanced at the soft leather cushions, and was
immediately reminded of the back seat of his limo. “I prefer to stand, thank
you.”
    Dermot prowled around the perimeter of the room, as if
seeking the perfect position from which to deliver his argument. Finally, he
leaned his hip against one of the shelving units and faced her.
    “When you didn’t call, I wasn’t sure how you felt about
seeing me again. After all, I was the one who gave you my card. You never
volunteered your number. Maybe that night didn’t mean anything to you. You
might have done the same for any man you rescued from a dryad.”
    Eileen opened her mouth to protest, but he raised his
hand and cut her off.
    “Since I wasn’t sure of your feelings, I thought it
prudent to act as if you would not be interested in furthering our
relationship. I told no one that we’d met. You have a room booked in your name
at the Niko . Officially I was not at the airport so
that, if you wished to deny our previous encounter, there would be no awkward
questions for you to answer.”
    Eileen swallowed to clear her tight throat. Do no harm.
He’d arranged everything so that he would do no harm. His motives couldn’t be
any plainer than that.
    “It’s sorry I am to have doubted you,” she said. Darting
across the room, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
    Dermot curled his arms around her waist, pulling her
hips tight against his, and deepened the kiss. Opening her mouth, she allowed
the sweet invasion of his tongue. He tasted like mint.
    Twining her tongue with his, she sucked lightly. He
groaned. He rubbed his growing erection against her abdomen, and when that
wasn’t enough, grabbed her by the ass and lifted her to straddle his swollen
cock. She locked her legs around his waist and rocked against him.
    His cock pressed against the seam of her jeans, teasing
her with