“Hi, there. Have you had breakfast yet?”
“I’m still in bed, so no, I haven’t eaten.”
He glanced at his watch: not quite six. He’d forgive her for being lazy. In fact, he was glad he’d caught her in bed because she sounded sleepy and soft, without the usual crispness to her voice. He wondered what she wore to bed, maybe a skinny little tank top and her panties, maybe nothing at all. She definitely wouldn’t wear something slinky and see-through. He tried to imagine her in a long nightgown or a sleep shirt, and couldn’t. He could, however, imagine her naked. He imagined it so well that his johnson perked up and began to swell, requiring a firm hand to keep it under control.
“What are you wearing?” His own voice came out slower and deeper than usual.
She laughed, a startled sound that seemed to burst out of her. “Is this an obscene phone call?”
“It could be. I think I feel some heavy breathing coming on. Tell me what you’re wearing.” He imagined her sitting up against the pillows, tucking the covers under her arms, pushing her tousled hair out of her face.
“A flannel granny gown.”
“Liar. You aren’t a granny-gown type of woman.”
“Did you call for any reason other than to wake me up and find out what I’m wearing?”
“I did, but I got sidetracked. C’mon, tell me.”
“I don’t do phone sex.” She sounded amused.
“Pretty please with sugar on top.”
She laughed again. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because my imagination is killing me. You sounded so sleepy when you answered, and I pictured you all soft and warm under the covers. Everything grew out of that.” He gave his erection a wry glance.
“You can stop imagining. I don’t sleep raw, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Then what are you wearing? I really need to know, so I can be accurate in my fantasies.”
“Pajamas.”
Damn, he’d forgotten about pajamas. “Shorty pajamas?” he asked hopefully.
“I switch to long ones in October, and back to short ones in April.”
She was bursting all of his bubbles. He pictured her in tailored pajamas, and the effect just wasn’t the same. He sighed. “You could have said you were bare-assed naked,” he groused. “What would it have hurt? I was having fun here.”
“Maybe a little too much,” she said drily.
“Not enough, though.” His erection was subsiding, a wasted effort.
“Sorry I couldn’t be more accommodating.”
“That’s okay. You can make it up to me in person.”
“You wish.”
“Honey, you don’t know how much I wish. Now, about why I called—”
She chuckled, and he felt a kind of squirrely feeling in the pit of his stomach. His insides were actually jumping around just because he’d made her laugh. Again.
“I don’t have anything to do today, and I’m bored. Why don’t we go to Disneyland?”
“What?” she asked blankly, as if he’d been speaking a foreign language.
“Disneyland. You know, the one right outside the city. I’ve never been to either one in the States. Have you been to this one?”
“Twice,” she said. “Tina and I took Zia twice. Averill wouldn’t go, because he didn’t like standing in lines.”
“It takes a real man to stand in lines.”
“And not bitch about it,” she added.
“And not bitch about it.” What else could he do but agree? “I have someone looking into the security system thing, but I’m not likely to find out anything today. I have time to kill, you have time to kill, so why should we stare at the walls when we can see Cinderella’s castle?”
“Sleeping Beauty, not Cinderella.”
“Whatever. Myself, I always thought Cinderella was prettier than Sleeping Beauty, because she was blond. I have a thing for blondes.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” She sounded as if she might laugh again.
“Look at it this way: Will anyone be looking for you in Disneyland?”
There was a small silence as she considered the real truth behind his proposal. He couldn’t tell her that he was restless and worried about Frank, and that he thought he’d go crazy if he had to sit around his hotel room all day. He wasn’t big on amusement parks, but it was something to do and they wouldn’t have to watch their backs. Nervi would never think to have people watching the entrances to Disneyland, because what idiot would stop in the middle of a deadly cat-and-mouse game to go ride Thunder Mountain?
“The weather is supposed to be sunny today. Let’s go,” he cajoled. “It’ll be fun. We can ride the teacups and get dizzy and puke.”
“It sounds marvelous, I can’t wait.” She was snickering and trying to control it, but he could hear the little gulping sounds she was making.
“Then you’ll go?”
She sighed. “Why not? It’s either a dumb idea or a brilliant one, and I’m not certain which.”
“Great. Why don’t you put on a hat and sunglasses and sneak over here, and we’ll have breakfast before we start out? I’ve been itching to let the hammer down on this little car I got to replace the Jag. It has two hundred and twenty-five horses, and I want to let at least two hundred of them run.”
“Ah-ha. Now I know why you called. You want to drive like a maniac with a woman along to watch you show off, and to make appropriate oohing and aahing noises.”
“Indulge me. I’ve been a little short on those kinds of noises lately.”
“I’ll try my best. I’ll be there around eight; if you get hungry before then, go ahead and order. I can eat later.”
Her two-hour time limit didn’t tell him squat about where she was. In two hours, she could get here from anywhere in the area. Hell, she could probably get here from Calais in that length of time. “I’ll wait for you. Tell me what you want and I’ll order it about twenty minutes before eight.”
All she wanted was a pastry and coffee, and he made a mental note to add some protein to the order. Just as she started to hang up he said, “By the way—”
She paused and said, “What?”
“In case you’re wondering, I do sleep naked.”
Lily closed her flip-top phone, stared at it, then flopped back on the pillows and burst into laughter. She didn’t know when she’d last been teased and flirted with so relentlessly, maybe never. It felt good; just as it felt good to laugh. She was alive, then, after all. She even felt a little guilty for laughing, because Zia would never laugh again.
She sobered on that thought, and the familiar pain squeezed her heart. The pain would never go away, she thought, but there would be times when perhaps she could forget for just a little while. Today, she would try to forget.
She got out of bed and stretched, then did the set of exercises she’d been doing every day in an effort to regain her strength. She was getting better, her stamina improved a bit every day. After thirty minutes of exercise she was damp with sweat but not breathless; the old ticker was holding up. She got into the shower without having to take off any clothes, because she slept nude. Lying to Swain had seemed like a good idea, plus it was fun.
Fun. There was that word again. It seemed to come up often in connection with him.
She hadn’t wondered before about whether he slept raw, but now her imagination supplied an image of him just waking up, stretching, his jaw dark with stubble. His skin smelled warm and musky, and his morning erection jutted up, demanding attention—
For a moment she could almost smell that warm man-scent, the memory so fresh and so specific she was briefly puzzled that she knew how he smelled. Then she remembered crying on his shoulder, with his arms around her. She must have subconsciously noticed his scent then, and her brain had filed the memory away for future reference.