My hand slid inside the V of her shirt, and her silken skin felt velvety and hot under my touch. Candy moaned deep in her throat and her hands became more demanding.
Still not speaking, she squirmed around on the overstuffed pillows. For a moment, I thought she was trying to push me off the couch, but her hands that had been clawing at my shoulders in erotically irritating scratches, moved to my waist and I realized she was trying to give me room to lie back flat so she could shift to a position on top of me. She succeeded easily, with my cooperation, then the soft hands slid firmly up over my chest to the collar of my shirt. At her insistence, I already had removed my tie before we sat down to eat so there was nothing to interfere with her questing fingers as they began opening the buttons.
Lifting the top half of her body, but never breaking the kiss, she spread my shirt wide and tugged the tails out of my pants. My hands were busy, too, and with almost the same motions, we pulled off each other’s shirt, then lay back, locked together again full length, our bare chests touching and caressing.
We stayed like that for a long moment before I grasped her waist, lifting her slightly, then sliding a hand between us to open her belt buckle. She twisted onto one side to make it easier for me, and I responded by quickly opening the big Levi buttons. She lifted again slightly so that I could slide the jeans down over her hips.
Pulling her lips away from mine and raising her head, Candy looked down at me. “My turn,” she said softly. Inching her way backward down along my body, she leaned down to plant tiny kisses on my chest, then rose to her knees. She slipped off first one leg of her jeans and her panties, then the other before she leaned down again to open my belt buckle.
We moved in an embrace to the bed, and in another moment I was no longer play-acting…
The phone ring was short, but it wakened me instantly. I picked it up before it could ring again, saying softly, “Hello.”
“Mr. Carter, it’s twelve-thirty.” The operator had automatically spoken softly, too, and she hastened on, almost apologetically, “You asked me to call you so you wouldn’t miss a meeting.”
“Yes, thank you very much. I’m awake.” I made a mental note to spend some more of Hawk’s hard-fought-for money and send a little something along to the switchboard operators. It doesn’t hurt to have as many people as possible on your side.
Candy sat up, and the sheet fell away from her breasts. “What time is it?”
“Twelve-thirty.”
“My God, Sherima must be home.” She started to slip out of bed, demanding, “How could you have let me sleep so long?”
“You’ve only been asleep for half an hour,” I said. “It was midnight when you dropped off.”
“God, where did the night go?” she said, swinging her legs to the floor and standing up beside the bed.
I let my eyes sweep pointedly over her nude body and then over the rumpled bed without saying anything.
“Don’t say it,” she laughed, then turned and ran toward the couch to pick up her jeans and shirt. As she scooted into them, she said, “I hope Sherima isn’t there. She’s bound to be worried, and Abdul will be angry.”
The latter part of her words was said with a touch of fright. I decided to follow up on it. “Abdul? Why should he be angry? He’s not your boss, is he?”
Flustered for a moment, she didn’t answer. Then, collecting herself as she headed for the door, she laughed and said, “No, of course not. But he likes to know where I am all the time. I think he believes he’s supposed to be my bodyguard, too.”
I had gotten up and followed her to the door. Taking her in my arms for a last, lingering kiss, I said as I released her, “I’m sure glad he wasn’t guarding your body tonight, ma’am.”
She looked up at me, and her eyes were filled with coyness. “Me, too, Nick. And I really mean that. Now please, I must go.”
I picked up my Stetson from a chair and flourished it across my naked thighs. “Yes, ma’am. See you at breakfast.”
“Breakfast? Oh yes, I’ll try Nick, I’ll really try.”
Chapter 6
I was thinking about the previous night’s sex contest when my phone rang.
“Nick, are you up? It’s Candy.”
I told her I was just getting dressed, although I’d actually been awake since a little after five. After exercising and showering, I had spent about thirty minutes on the phone to AXE headquarters. I had wanted to find out if any further information had come in on what the Sword’s plans might be, but none, I was told, had been received. Our local agents had learned that most of the radical underground groups in the District’s area seemed to be alive with activity, after being relatively quiet for almost a year. Several, especially the revolutionary-terror group known as the American Arab Coalition, had held clandestine meetings, attended by only the leaders of the units, although all members had been put on the alert. For just what, nobody seemed to know.
“Breakfast is on, Nick,” Candy said eagerly.
“Great,” I replied. “Downstairs?”
“Yes. We’ll see you in the Terrace Room in about a half hour.”
“So you sold Sherima on getting out and meeting her public?”
Candy replied, “There will be just the two of us, Sherima and me.” That didn’t seem to make much sense as a response to my question, but I realized then that the former queen was.probably nearby and that Candy couldn’t talk too freely. The urge to tease her under those circumstances was too great to resist, so I said:
“I’ll be the one wearing the cowboy hat and the erection.”
Her laughter flowed out of my receiver before she hung up.
At first, only a few heads turned to glance at the two attractive women moving toward my table; but when the headwaiter, obviously recognizing Sherima, intercepted them halfway across the room and began making a formal fuss over her, people took notice. Voices fell into whispers and casual glances became stares as Sherima spoke with the waiter. By the time they finally made their way past the patronizing headwaiter, I could see that nearly everyone in the room had recognized the former Queen. Even the normally busy waiters and waitresses had collected by the long buffet table to discuss the famous new arrival.
“Nick, I’m sorry we’re late,” Candy began, “but I—”
“Don’t believe her, Mr. Carter — Nick,” Sherima interrupted. “Candy had nothing to do with our being late. It’s my fault. It takes me a while to decide I’m up to facing what I’m sure is going on behind us.” She extended her hand, adding, “I’m Liz Chanley.”
Taking my cue for informality from her, I shook hands.
“Hello, Liz. Candy says you were going out house hunting today,” I said. “Which way are you headed?”
“Into Maryland,” she said. “Up around Potomac and north of there. I had dinner with the Secre… with an old friend last night and he suggested that area might have just what I’m looking for. I want someplace where I can have my horses.
I liked the way Sherima had stopped before saying the Secretary of State and turned it into “an old friend.” It showed she was secure enough within herself, not to have to drop famous names to assure her own position. There’s a nice person behind that pretty face, I decided.
The waiter hovered discreetly in the background and I motioned him forward to order our food. Poached eggs, toast, coffee for Sherima; the same for Candy, except her eggs would float over a hefty portion of corned beef hash; ham and eggs, toast and coffee for me.