Forbidden Pleasure

_{Chapter 6}

Michael Devlin put down the pages he had just been reading. "This is great stuff, Emily," he said. "Caro's backstory is particularly poignant. But she should have a little eighteenth-century survivor's grief," he suggested. "It will make her more likable."

"I agree. The coldness is, of course, a shield she uses to hide her grief behind," Emily said. "I need to show some of that grief to make the reader sympathetic toward her. Do you like the duke?

"Yes. He's different from your other heroes. More masculine. He's got a bit of a hard edge, except where his wife is concerned. It's a weakness I find endearing, and so will your readers. How do you know so much about love?" He smiled warmly at her, and Emily felt herself melting, as she always did when Devlin smiled that particular smile.

"I don't know," Emily admitted. "I guess I just try to make my characters the way I wish people really were."

"Haven't you ever been in love?" he queried her.

"Once," Emily said. "Only once."

"What happened?" Devlin said.

Emily shook her head. "I guess I'm not his type," she replied.

"Foolish man," he said.

Have you ever really been in love? Emily wondered. Could you fall in love with me? But she didn't dare to voice her question aloud. She didn't want to see the pity in his eyes. It would kill her if he pitied her.

"I have to go to Frankfurt in October," he said. "And I'm going to stop in England on the way back. Savannah and Pruny need a mediator. You could meet me in England, angel face," he suggested. "I know you like England."

"I could stay with Savannah," Emily said thoughtfully. "But it couldn't be any longer than a three-day weekend, Devlin. I'm in the home stretch, and I want this book in on time. I don't want J.P. to have any negotiating room with Aaron. She called him and offered a new contract before he and Kirk went off on vacation."

"What did Aaron say?" So J.P. had been listening to him after all.

"That he'd discuss it with her when he got back from Italy." Emily grinned.

Michael Devlin nodded. It was fair. Aaron was no dope, and he was hedging his bets with J.P.-making her want the new contract more than he appeared to want it.

"Okay," she said, launching herself into his lap. "No more business! You're on vacation. Want to try it in one of the boys' beautiful wing chairs?" Her blue eyes twinkled at him mischievously.

"If I get cum all over the tapestry neither of them will be happy with us," he said seriously. "But what the hell, angel face, I've always wanted to try it in a wing chair." Reaching down, he unzipped his pants, and his penis almost flew out.

"Oh, me, oh, my," Emily said, looking at it. "The big fella is all ready to go, isn't he? Haven't you ever heard of foreplay, Devlin?" She pulled away from him and stood up. " 'Let me entertain you,' " she sang as she pulled off her light green tank top and tossed it carelessly across the room. Then she licked her lips suggestively and shook her breasts at him. " 'Let me make you smile.' " She began to wiggle seductively out of her shorts. " 'Let me do a few tricks. Some old and then some new tricks. I'm very ver-sa-tile.' " The shorts followed the tank top. Emily was quite naked, and now she began to dance in what she imagined to be a stripper's manner, bumping and grinding across the room. " 'And if you're real good, I'll make you feel good. I want your spirits to climb.'" She wiggled her bottom at him. " 'So let me entertain you. And we'll have a real good time.' Oh, yeah!" She strutted toward him. " 'We'll… have… a… real… good… time!' "

Reaching out he grabbed her, and impaled her on his penis. "Oh, yeah! We'll have a real good time," he sang.

"Brute!" she said. "Oh, God, no man should feel this good, Devlin!"

He reached out and, grasping one of her breasts in his hand, began to lick it. "And no mortal woman should feel this good. You fit me like a glove, angel face. Sit still for a little bit. If you move, I'm going to come. I don't want to yet."

"I'll make it stand straight and tall again, Devlin," she promised him. Bending, she kissed his ear, licking around the curve of it. "I love fucking you."

"Let's not stay at Lord Palmer's when we're in England," he said softly. "There's a great little inn in their village. I don't want to have to share our passion with Savannah, and you know she's bold enough to listen at our door." He chuckled. He released her breast and, finding her lips, kissed her a long and tender kiss.

"The Drake's Head," she said against his mouth. "Yes, let's stay there. I'll make the reservations when you have the dates. Oh, God, Devlin! I can't take much more."

"I thought you wanted foreplay," he teased, nibbling on her ear.

"Screw foreplay! I want you, and I want us to come together!" Emily groaned. "Let go of me! I want to ride you hard, Devlin. Very hard!" She struggled against him, tucking her legs about him, and his hands released her hips, slipping up about her midsection to steady her. She moved up and down on his hard penis, her hands on his shoulders, her eyes closing with her sweet desire for him as she leaned back.

He watched her face and was enchanted by her rising passions. A pride, almost of ownership, flowed through him. She was his lover. He had taken her virginity and taught her the joys of lust. She had proven an apt pupil. No one had ever had her but him. And no man was ever going to have her but him, Michael Devlin determined.

"Oh! Ohh! Ohhh!" Her little cries excited him further.

"I adore you!" he whispered in her ear, his own eyes closing with the intense pleasure beginning to build and build. And then it broke, and his cum flooded her womb with fierce force.

"Devlin!" She sobbed his name as spasm after spasm shook her from the inside out. Damnation! She wanted her happy ending! She collapsed against him, burying her face in his shoulder and neck.

"It just gets better between us," he said after some moments had passed.

"I have nothing to judge it by," she said, teasing him gently. But of course she did. Yet had she attempted to explain the Channel to him he wouldn't have understood. And it did get better between them every time. No man was ever going to satisfy her except the charming Michael Devlin. She could conjure up a host of lovers in the Channel, but no matter how skilled they were, none would ever be Michael Devlin-worse luck.

"I'm glad you can't judge my performance," he teased back. "That makes me the best you've ever had, angel face."

"Am I the best you've ever had?" she dared to ask him.

"Yes," he said, not even hesitating for a moment. "There are still things I haven't taught you, of course, but you are an incredibly apt pupil, my darling." He kissed her brow, and then said with some small humor, "If we are very careful I believe we can manage not to get the results of our efforts on Aaron and Kirk's furniture. Has your research been satisfactory, angel face?"

"Uh-huh," she replied, carefully untangling herself from him. "But I still prefer the bed, Devlin. What else have you got to teach me?"

He hesitated. What he was about to suggest wasn't for everyone, but she should attempt it at least once. "I think it's time you got your little asshole stuffed with my dick," he told her, looking carefully at her to see her reaction.

Emily swallowed hard. She had read enough Victorian porn to know a little of what his suggestion involved. "Do you like to do that to a woman?" she asked him slowly. She wasn't certain it was something she wanted to attempt.

"Some women enjoy it," he said candidly. "But it's one of those things where you have to trust me completely in order to experience it without fear. You may not be ready. You may not want to do it at all. But then again, you might want to try it just once."

"Would you stop if I said I didn't like it?" she asked him. "I mean, it's not like our first time, where you couldn't stop after a certain point, is it?"

"If we do it and you say stop, I will stop immediately," he promised her. "We probably won't do it entirely the first time. It's important you aren't frightened. Once we've done it you may not want to do it again, angel face, but you will enjoy it. And you will be in total control of our situation, not me."

Emily stood, considering the suggestion. She knew Devlin was trustworthy. And frankly the idea of anal sex-the very forbidden nature of it-was intriguing and tempting. Was she bold enough to try? She thought some more. Yes! She did want to try it, if only once. He had said she would be in control, yet shoving her ass up at him to be fucked seemed a submissive position to her, and it was considered deviant. Still… "I'm game," she finally said. "Scared, but game."

He nodded. He hadn't been certain she would attempt this new form of sexual pleasure, but he realized more and more that Emily was a consummate researcher. And he knew that eventually their play would show up in a book, if not this one, then the next. "Give me a moment more to recover from being ravaged by you," he said wickedly.

"I'll meet you in the bedroom. The guest room where you are staying has the same king-size bed as their bedroom. Do you think they knew I'd been visiting you?"

Devlin laughed. "I think you're probably the only woman to ever stay here, let alone get fucked here." He chuckled.

Emily shot him a grin and disappeared into his bedroom. He waited a few minutes until he heard the shower, and then, getting carefully up, followed her. Stripping off his clothes he joined her under the pulsing jets of warm water. She took up a bar of olive oil soap from Italy and began rubbing it across his broad, smooth chest. He closed his eyes with the simple pleasure her touch gave him. Her hands moved the soap across his taut belly.

"Considering your age," she teased, "you are a fine figure of a man, Devlin."

"Ouch!" He groaned. "That was low. I was only forty last month. I loved your present, by the way," he teased back. "But it didn't last."

"You can have more anytime," she offered him, her hands soaping his balls with such a delicate touch he almost squealed like a kid being touched for the first time. She turned him about and washed his shoulders, her hands sliding down his back to fondle his buttocks with soapy fingers. Then she turned him to face her again.

In response his big hands fondled her bottom, the edge of one hand moving along the crease between the twin halves. She tensed slightly, but the hand was gone before she could even protest. "Let's get out," he suggested.

They exited the shower and dried each other off before returning to the bedroom. Devlin threw back the coverlet, revealing a smooth, pale peach jersey sheet. "They make their beds as in Europe and England," he said. "I like it. No top sheet just a bottom sheet, and down coverlet." He fell back, bringing her with him. Then he rolled her off of him and cradled her on her side. "It's better to begin this slowly," he said. "We're just going to make love, but I'm going to concentrate on touching your butt and not your tits, okay? This isn't the kind of thing where I jump your bones, angel face. I've told you that you will be in control. If you say stop, I'll stop."

"Do you like ass-fucking your lover?" she asked him, curious.

"It's an interesting variation," he said slowly. "It's no fun if your partner doesn't enjoy it. I'm not into degradation. It's like any other aspect of making love: If your partner enjoys it, you are more likely to enjoy it. We don't have to do this, Emily."

"No, I want to try," she said. "The forbidden is always enticing, Devlin." She felt his hands caressing her back, touching her buttocks with gentle touches. Why were women so sensitive about their asses? she wondered. We're all quick enough to flash our breasts at our men. The edge of his hand was now running along the crease between her buttocks. She tensed just slightly, and he immediately moved away. Okay. He's keeping his promise, she thought. But if I'm nervous when he just brushed by, what the hell is going to happen when it gets down to the nitty-gritty? Do I really want to do this? Yeah, I do. The unknown is always scary.

Devlin loved the feel of her skin, the curve of her butt. His hand moved back to the shadowed furrow separating her buttocks. She tensed again, but as quickly relaxed as he followed the line of the crease. His hand pressed slightly, dipping into the fold of the flesh. He rubbed slowly, moving deeper, letting his hand remain there. "Breathe," he told her, sensing her nervousness. The little finger on his hand reached out to caress her anus, pressing just slightly.

"Oh!"

" 'Oh' good, or 'oh' bad?" he asked.

"I didn't realize you could be sensitive there," she said.

"It's an erogenous zone too. It's just not used a whole lot," he told her.

"Touch it again," she said, and he did. "Oh, very good, Devlin," she assured him. Then she gasped as the merest tip of his little finger penetrated her, but barely. "Ohh!"

He held the finger there for a moment, and then removed it. Over the next hour he played with her gently. He had taken a tube of K-Y jelly from the nightstand, but she said nothing. They used it with the dildo, and she could understand the need for it in this situation. He never stopped kissing her, attempting to take the edge off of her nervousness. A single finger, covered with lubricant, pressed gently against her asshole. "It's all right, angel face," he whispered in her ear as he felt her tensing up again. And when she said nothing and relaxed with his reassurance, he pressed a bit more firmly against the sphincter muscle until it slowly gave way and allowed his finger forward an inch, then two inches. He stopped, letting her grow used to this invasion. "What do you think?" he asked her softly.

She was quiet a long moment, and then she said, "I think I could take a little more. It's an interesting sensation. Not uncomfortable at all."

"My cock is a lot bigger," he reminded her. "Let's try two fingers and see how you manage, okay?"

"Okay," Emily agreed nervously as she felt the single finger being withdrawn. Then she felt the pressure again against her asshole. Slowly, slowly, and with great care he now inserted two of his fingers. The sensation was, to her surprise, exciting. "Oh! Oh, good. Oh, interesting." she told him.

He was surprised at how well she was handling this. He had assumed they would not manage this style of intercourse in one session, but now he considered she might very well be ready for it. "Want to try going all the way?" he asked her, kissing her shoulder.

"Yes," she answered him. "Yes, I do."

"Do you know the correct position to assume?" he asked her. "Is it in those books of yours?" he teased mischievously as he withdrew his fingers from her.

"As a matter of fact, it is," Emily told him, rolling over, drawing her knees up beneath her, and resting her arms on the pillows.

His penis was more than ready. He slid on a well-lubricated condom and rubbed her anal opening lavishly with the jelly. Then, kneeling behind her, he positioned his cock and began an insistent pressure he knew would force the little ring of muscle open. It gave, and he moved forward, inserting himself slowly, slowly, slowly into her asshole. She gasped as he began to fill the very tight passage, but she didn't cry off. He didn't know whether to be surprised or proud. Her trust in him was obviously total.

Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Emily whispered silently in her head. The feeling of him, of his thickness, of his mass sliding into a place she had never really considered a penis should be, was incredible. There had been a slight pinch of pain, but she had held herself very still, and he had been extraordinarily gentle. Now fully sheathed, he stopped, letting them both experience the sensation of his throbbing cock in her asshole. It was certainly unlike any sensation she had ever experienced before. "You don't even have to move." She gasped. "It's not going to take much to make me come."

"Just a little of this," he said, reaching beneath her to tweak her clitoris with a skilled and very wicked finger.

"Oh, my God!" Emily screamed softly, and then her orgasm exploded, leaving her almost breathless.

He pulled his engorged cock from her deliciously tight asshole, pulled the condom from it, and, rolling her over onto her back, slid into her vagina. Then with slow, deliberate strokes of his penis he began to again rouse the fires within her until her head was thrashing back and forth, and he could see nothing but a haze before his own eyes. Sensation! He could only feel sensation: the muscles of her vagina squeezing him hard, the heat and wetness of her. His lust grew in intensity as he sensed she was ready to erupt again. And when she did, her second orgasm even greater than the first, his passion met hers with equal force and determination as his own juices burst forth.

Neither of them spoke for several long minutes. Finally he asked, "Well? What do you think, angel face?"

"I don't think I would do it again, Devlin, but it was a trip," Emily admitted candidly. She rolled onto her side and propped herself up on an elbow, looking down into his face. "Thank you for being so gentle. I imagine with the wrong lover that would have been a very painful experience."

"It's not my favorite thing to do either," he admitted, "but some of the women I have known can come only when they've got a cock in their asshole." He pulled her into his arms. "I have to say you've got a cute one."

She felt her cheeks growing warm. "Shut up," she told him.

"Stay with me tonight," he said. His thumb brushed across her lips.

"I can't. I left all my lights on. If I don't come home until the morning someone will notice, and trust me, in Egret Pointe there will be questions, if not a cop car checking to see if I'm all right. I like that what we have is private, is ours alone."

"What do we have?" he asked her, wondering what the hell had possessed him to voice his own insecurities.

"Whatever you want, Devlin," Emily answered him. She slipped from his arms and, getting up, went into the bathroom.

He lay quietly listening as the shower ran again. A few minutes later she returned, dressed, and, giving him a quick kiss, was gone from the bedroom. He heard the cottage door close behind her, and then the vroom of her Healy as she pulled away and drove off down the long driveway to the two-lane country road that would take her back home again. He loved her. Oh, yeah, he loved her. He had tried, but he couldn't get a handle on how she might really feel about him. Were there still women in this world who could fall in love with the first man who boffed them? Or was he merely a research helper to Emily Shanski? The thought of any other man making love to her set his pulse pounding with anger. He loved her, but could he reasonably expect her to love him back? He didn't know. Michael Devlin had never before found himself in this kind of situation.

And as she drove Emily was wondering the same thing. He had said at one point, "I adore you." Did that mean love? He had asked her what they had. Was he testing her to be certain that she wouldn't embarrass him by girlishly declaring emotions for him that he could not reciprocate? For the first time in her life Emily Shanski regretted her lack of experience with a man. With love. She had never had a crush on anyone growing up. She had never had her heart broken, even once, because she was so busy trying hard not to be like her mother and her father. Maybe just once she could have thrown caution to the wind, but then the thought of the grans disappointment had always stopped her.

They had given up their middle years and their old age to bring her up. To love her and raise her to be the kind of person they had wanted Katy and Joe to be. But their own children had, in one foolish action, thrown aside the morality they had been raised to have. Only the grans cool heads and logic, along with the respect of all of Egret Pointe, had saved the day for them all. Had saved her, Emily thought. Yes, her parents had been married when she had been born. But they had been given a quick annulment with the cooperation of a local judge before Thanksgiving vacation. And everyone in town knew why they had married. If it weren't for the grans, Emily Shanski would have had a far more difficult life.

Emily didn't even dare consider what her grandmothers would think of these past three months. My God, after tonight, what hadn't she done with Michael Devlin? The thought, though sobering, still brought a grin to her face. It had been exciting in a taboo sort of way, but anal sex wasn't something she was anxious to repeat-even with her duke. Was she up to the Channel tonight, after what had happened? No, she was not. She was going to go home to bed, and go to sleep. After she had some Forbidden Chocolate ice cream. For some reason she suddenly needed chocolate in the worst way. She turned onto Founders Way, and drove straight down the street into her driveway. Her cell phone began to ring as she got out of the car. Smiling, she answered it. "I'm just home. Do you have radar, Devlin?"

"Are you in the house?"

"I'm opening the kitchen door now," she told him as she turned the key and walked into her house, closing and locking the door behind her. "I'm in and locked."

"Can I come over?" he asked her plaintively.

"No. I want a good night's sleep. Tomorrow's a workday for me. Good night, Devlin. Sleep tight. My pussy and I will be thinking of you." She made kissing noises into the telephone.

"My cock and I will be thinking of you both too," he promised, and made kissing noises back at her. "Good night, angel face." He clicked off.

Emily sighed. Why did love have to hurt so damned much?

August seemed to fly by. It was a hot and dry month. Devlin was at her house for breakfast on the mornings she hadn't been at the cottage overnight. They swam together at the club. He rented a small catboat for the month, and they spent afternoons out on the bay. They celebrated her birthday in bed with champagne, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. It was clear on the peak night of the Perseid meteor showers. The moon was new, and had set by after midnight, which was the prime viewing time. They lay in a double lounge chair down on the cottage's narrow beach, watching the shooting stars. Afterward they made slow, leisurely love, dozed, and swam in the bay as the dawn broke. Emily could not remember a time in her life when she had been so utterly and completely happy.

And neither could Michael Devlin, although it was a thought he kept to himself.

Labor Day weekend Rina Seligmann insisted they join her and Sam for dinner at the club. "You've been hiding out all month," she told Emily. "You don't even answer messages, and you gave Essie all of August off, paid. How am I supposed to get my gossip if Essie isn't there?"

Emily laughed. "You aren't. This has been a private time, and even I'm entitled to one of those at least once a century. What time do you want us? Devlin is going back Sunday night to beat the Monday traffic."

"Saturday night. Eight p.m. Have you heard from Aaron?"

"I got two postcards from Capri. The last one complained that Kirk wouldn't let him stay longer, but insisted on returning to Tuscany," Emily replied.

Rina chuckled. "My brother is such a gadabout," she remarked. "I don't blame Kirk. When are they back?"

"Sunday afternoon," Emily said. "See you Saturday night."

"Do we have to go?" Michael Devlin wanted to know.

"Yep, we do," Emily answered. "Rina's my mother figure, and her brother is my agent. She's practically family. And you liked her, and Dr. Sam will keep her under control, I promise. I'm surprised she called. I thought she'd be up at Camp Cozy this weekend. Sam must be on call at the hospital."

"What's Camp Cozy?" he asked, curious.

"Rina and her neighbors on Ansley Court bought a big old house up in the mountains on a lake twenty-five years ago. The women used to go up every summer with their kids. The kids named it Camp Cozy. The men would come on weekends, or for a week or two in August. At least they won't all be at the club Saturday evening," she said.

They had taken his car that night. Arriving at the Egret Pointe Country Club, they were seated at a table overlooking the golf course.

"Do you play?" he wanted to know.

Emily shook her head. "I'm not particularly athletic," she replied.

"I beg to differ," he said with a small grin.

She laughed, and then she said, "Oh, hell! There's Carla Johnson and her husband, Rick. And Tiffany and Joe Pietro d'Angelo."

"Who are they?" he asked.

"Some of Rina's neighbors. Rick and Joe have a little law firm in the village," Emily explained. "But I thought they would be up at Camp Cozy. Rats! They've seen us." She returned Carla Johnson's friendly wave. "I'm going to kill Rina!"

"Why would you kill my wife?" Dr. Sam asked as he joined them. He gave Emily a kiss on her cheek.

"Everyone in town is here," Emily muttered. "I told Rina I didn't Want to have dinner at the club tonight, but how come Carla and Tiffany aren't up at your place in the mountains? Isn't this the last big weekend of the summer for Camp Cozy?"

"There's a forest fire in the mountains near the camp," Dr. Sam explained. "It's been so dry. They've got it under control, but they asked people to evacuate just to be on the safe side. The Ulrichs are in Europe," he added as an afterthought. "You know my Rina. She works the room of people like a Catskills comedian entering the lobby of his hotel. She's probably telling those two he's your editor, and you know how Carla appreciates a handsome man." He chuckled.

"I'll give her two minutes," Emily said darkly.

Michael Devlin stood up. "Let me handle this," he said with a grin. Then, walking across the country club dining room to where Rina stood in earnest conversation with her two friends, he took her arm, saying, "Rina, my dear girl, we cannot order until you have joined us, and I for one am famished." Then he smiled at Carla Johnson and Tiffany Pietro d'Angelo. "I'm Michael Devlin, Emily's editor. I hope you won't mind if I steal Rina away from you." He turned Rina Seligmann away from the two women and escorted her across the floor.

"You got chutzpah, dearie," Rina murmured as they walked.

"Emily was getting upset. For some reason-and I cannot fathom why-she wants to keep our love affair a secret, Rina," Michael Devlin said softly. Reaching the table he seated her with a flourish, and then sat back down himself.

Rina chuckled. "I like him," she said to Emily. "You have my approval to do what you will with him, my child."

Emily burst out laughing. "That, sir, was ballsy," she told her lover.

"I agree with my wife, but don't I always agree with my wife?" Dr. Sam said. Then he turned to the waiter, who was now hovering. "I'll have the salmon with dill sauce, but I want rice, not those red potatoes you're always trying to palm off on me. Balsamic on the salad, and I want more than one of those blueberry muffins in the basket tonight."

While they ate an orchestra tuned up, and by the time they reached dessert people were beginning to dance. The music being played wasn't at all new, given the audience. There were foxtrots, waltzes, rumbas, and sambas. The Seligmanns got up to dance, and Emily smiled watching them.

"Aren't they cute?" she said. "He adores her, and she adores him."

"They're good people. I'm glad you have them," he answered.

"I'm lucky," Emily admitted. "Only in America would an Irish-Polish Catholic girl have Jewish parent figures. Sam's ancestors and my Dunham ancestors were among the founders of Egret Pointe. There has been a Dr. Seligmann here as long as anyone can remember."

"I don't think of the States as having such history," Michael Devlin admitted. "I am not going to ask you to dance, angel face, because if I do I will embarrass us both. I can't seem to hold you in my arms without getting a hard-on."

She blushed, but laughed softly at the same time. "What is going to happen with us, Devlin? This tutorial is getting out of control, isn't it?"

"I don't know," he said slowly. "I don't find that I am unhappy-rather the opposite. What about you?"

"I feel the same way," Emily said quietly. "Let's see how well we travel together. When are you going to Frankfurt?"

"Early October," he replied. "Want to meet in England on the tenth?"

"I'll make the reservations at the inn in Barrow tomorrow," she said. "How long do you want to visit with the Palmers?"

"I'd better fly back the fourteenth so I can be in the office that day," he said. "I don't want J.P. asking why I'm away so long. Since I'm going to smooth things out with Sava and Pruny, I'll call it business, and then say I wanted to check on my house as well, since I was there. Who will know you're away?"

"Rina and Essie," Emily replied. "I'll fly home the sixteenth, so Sava and I can have a little girl time together. I know I said three days, but I haven't been to England in a while, and I can call it a research trip."

"You two should get out there and dance," Rina said breathlessly as she returned to the table. "They're playing real music."

"We're enjoying drinking our wine and talking," Emily quickly spoke up. "Besides, we don't want your friends gossiping, do we?"

"They'll gossip anyway," Rina said with a grin. "That's what we do every Monday morning: eat doughnuts, drink coffee, and gossip. We've been doing it for years. Now that we're all working again we just meet earlier. And you have to admit that no one has seen you having dinner at the club with a handsome, eligible man in years, Emily." She turned to Michael Devlin. "And I know you're eligible, and quite the man," Rina told him. "Oh, Emily is very quiet, but I see how happy she is. It would be such a pity if you were gay. Every time I see those men on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy I want to weep. That Kyan! So handsome and sexy. Jai… now Jai I would take home and mother. He's adorable."

"I'd like Carson as a best friend," Emily said. "He makes me laugh, and he's so witty. But kind too."

The evening was coming to an end. Fewer couples were dancing now. The dining room was growing quieter. Dr. Sam insisted on picking up the check, and they all left together, passing by the now empty table where Rina's friends had been sitting. In the parking lot they kissed, then went to their separate cars. The Seligmanns' Lexus pulled away first. Michael Devlin's Healy followed.

"He's in love with her!" Rina said triumphantly.

"Stay out of it, Rina," her husband warned.

"I just want her happy, Sam. She deserves to be happy."

"Yes, she does," he agreed. "So stay out of it. They are two grown people, and they will find their own way. What's meant to be will be."

"She'd make the most beautiful bride." Rina sighed.

Sam Seligmann laughed as they drove along. "My wife, the matchmaker," he said fondly. "A daughter and two sons, and you're still not satisfied. Now I know what your ancestors did back in Russia, Rina."

She joined in laughing. "So I'm a Golda the matchmaker," she said. "Sue me!" Then she grew serious. "Do you think he'll marry her, Sam?"

"You said he was in love with Emily," her husband reasoned.

"But he's forty, and never married before," Rina fretted.

"Do you think she loves him?"

"You can't see it? Oh, yes, Sam! Emily loves Michael," Rina declared with great assurance. "He's her first love, and I suspect her last love. She isn't a girl to give her heart lightly. Oh, God! What if he doesn't want a wife?"

"What's meant to be will be," Dr. Sam repeated. "It's already written in the book of life, Rina, my darling. So stay out of it!" He turned their car onto Ansley Court.

The Healy turned into Emily's driveway. They walked together into the house.

"Are you hungry?" she asked him.

He pulled her into his arms. "Only for you." His mouth took possession of her, moving tenderly over her lips, tasting her with his tongue, playing with the tongue she offered him back. "Why are you always so delicious?" he murmured against her short strawberry-blond hair. "I can never get enough of you." His hands pushed up her silken skirt, caressing her hips, her buttocks. He backed her against the kitchen table, green eyes dancing mischievously. "We're going to do it on the table," he growled in her ear. "Right now, angel face!"

"Devlin!" She gasped as he lifted her up. She was quivering with her excitement. Tomorrow he would return to the city, and she wouldn't see him again for almost a week. Her buttocks felt the rough oak beneath them as he lowered her. His head was between her open legs, searching out the core of her, finding it, teasing it. "Oh, yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" she encouraged. Her nipples were hard and tingling. She slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders and freed her breasts from the fabric. He was pulling her forward onto his cock. His mouth found her nipples. "Oh, God!" He was inside her, moving slowly at first, and then with a quicker and more intense rhythm. He suckled on one of her tits hungrily as he worked them to a fever pitch. Emily cried out as they came together in a blaze of heated passion.

What the hell is the matter with me? Michael Devlin asked himself as he pulled himself off of her. He loved her. Did he really want to go back into the city tomorrow morning and spend the day away from her? But what if it didn't last? What if it had just been a wild and wonderful fling that Emily had initiated to learn about sex? And that had been her-their- original intent. Maybe she was one of those women who prized their independence above everything else. He needed more time. He was too old to offer his heart to a woman, only to have her refuse him.

"Do you have to go back tomorrow?" she asked him.

"Yes," he said. "If I leave around noon I'll miss all the traffic. The Healy doesn't like idling in traffic."

"You could leave the Healy here, and take the train in on Tuesday morning," she suggested casually.

"I pay for garaging in my building," he answered her.

"Oh." She sounded disappointed.

"We have the rest of tonight, and tomorrow morning," he told her as he helped her off her kitchen table. "And if you need me to come back next weekend, I can."

Emily nodded. "I think you have to come back every weekend until the book is finished," she told him. "And after that, only if you'd like to, Devlin."

He ruffled her soft hair. "I would like to, angel face." Was the suggestion casual? Or did she mean something by it? Could she care for him as he did for her?

"Let's go to bed!" Emily suggested happily. Men were so dense. Did Devlin really think she was going to let him get away from her now that she had found him? If he loved her, as Rina said he did, he wouldn't want to leave her.

She barely had time to feed him, they lingered among the sheets so long the next day. But she wouldn't let him go until she had given him a late breakfast, and then she tucked into the Healy a bag containing several sandwiches and fresh peaches. "Call me so I know you're back safe," she said to him, kissing him sweetly on the back porch where no one could see them.

He nodded, kissed her back long and hard, and fondled her butt. "Be good, angel face," he said as he walked off the porch and climbed into the car.

"I only want to be bad with you, Devlin," she told him, and waved him off as he backed out of her drive and roared down Founders Way. Well, that wasn't one hundred percent true, the afterthought struck her. She liked being bad with her duke. But the duke wasn't real. He was a fantasy lover. She wondered if she would take other fantasy lovers now that her writing had taken a turn for the hotter. The Channel offered such safe sex. No unexpected pregnancies. No STDs. Just utter incredible bliss. It wasn't real, but it certainly seemed like it was real when you were experiencing it. Going back into the house, she considered having the Channel tonight, but it seemed almost disloyal to Devlin to get it so soon. Couldn't she live without sex for a single night? She grinned. Now that she knew what it was all about, she wasn't sure she could.

He called her around four to say he was back in his apartment, and the Healy garaged. "It prefers your driveway to its space in the building," he told her.

"My Healy misses yours," she teased. "She liked being nose-to-nose with your Healy in the drive. How was the traffic?"

"Good, but thickening as I got near town," he said.

They talked for a few more minutes, and then he rang off, telling her, "Now playtime is over, angel face. Get back to work. I'll call you in a few days."

"Okay," she said. "And I'll see you next weekend."

"You bet you will," he promised.

Emily hung up, and then, considering the time, she dialed Savannah's cell number. It wasn't that late in England, and Sava was a night owl anyway.

"Hallo?"

"He went back to the city, and I'm alone," Emily said.

"Well, you've had a month of him now. Not tired? Not bored?" Savannah asked.

"I will never be tired or bored with Devlin," Emily answered honestly.

Savannah laughed. "I'm so glad you finally know what love really is, pet. And the sex? Still incredible? I always heard he was the best."

"God, yes!" Emily sighed. "Oh, I know that because he's my first and only lover, some people might say I didn't know what I was talking about, but I do. I guess it's an instinct, Sava. The duke may look like him, but he isn't at all like him in either personality or in the boudoir. Does that sound crazy?"

"Not to me," Savannah replied. "The gentlemen on the Channel seem to have their own personalities. I don't really understand it, but I also don't want to question it."

"I'm coming to England next month. Devlin goes to Frankfurt, and then we're meeting. We'll come down to Barrow and spend a few days. Make me a reservation at the inn in the village, will you? The best they have to offer."

"You'll stay with us," Savannah protested.

"Not this time," Emily said. "We want a romantic interlude, and we can hardly have one at the manor. Besides, you listen at keyholes, and don't deny it."

Savannah giggled. "That's how I gained my first knowledge of sex," she admitted. "Mama used to bed my father's brother every chance she could. Of course, she was a widow, but Uncle Dorian was married. Mama always left her bedroom door open except when Uncle Dorian came. I wondered why. I certainly got an eyeful and earful that first time I peeked. My nanny caught me and hauled me away, muttering about bad girls coming to bad ends." Savannah laughed. "Thank God for the Channel, for I seem to have my mama's wild libido! But I would never embarrass Reg. I do love him."

"You'll make the reservation then?"

"For when?" Savannah asked.

"We'll get there October tenth. He's leaving the fourteenth. I'll come up to the manor house then until the sixteenth, if that's all right with you," Emily said.

"That would be super," Savannah agreed. "Reg goes up to London a few days a month, and we'll have girl time while he's gone. The Channel is trying something new here in England and France, and it's a perfect time to use it."

"What is it?" Emily asked.

"It's a new channel changer. You know how they replaced our old ones with one that got us in by simply pressing the enter button? Well, now there's a new one that you can program to allow two women to enter the same fantasy at the same time! And I've been working on a wonderful idea about a Victorian bordello. You know how prim and proper the Victorians are said to have been. Well, sexually they were animals, darling! While old Reg is up in London we can indulge our most wicked little selves at the Cock and Cunt. That's what I call the place." Savannah chuckled.

"Sounds very wicked," Emily said slowly. "I don't know if that's my style, Sava. You are far more adventurous than I am."

"Emily, we hold the power in the Channel. That's what makes it so ideal for experimentation. If you say stop, it stops. Not like real life, where, when a man gets past the point of no return, you can't say, 'Whoa, Nellie,' " Savannah reminded Emily. "I know these last few months you've been a participant in the Channel and not an observer, but I also know you've probably played it safe. Try something new and maybe just a little dangerous. We'll be together, darling. Aren't you just the least bit curious to know what it would be like to have multiple partners at the same time? Or to spend the night entertaining several different cocks in your pussy? Come on, admit it. Every woman thinks about it, and given the right circumstances most of them would attempt it at least once. I've created a really fun group of gentlemen. There's Bertie and Willie, Freddie and St. Albans. And several others. More than enough to go around. Don't make a decision now. Wait until you get here. I'm really excited about this. Imagine being able to go into the Channel with your best friend."

"It is tempting," Emily considered thoughtfully.

"Devlin will be on a plane flying back to the States. Old Reg will be up in London, and you and I will be in our fantasy getting ourselves fucked to distraction. I know it's not the correct period for you, but sex is sex. You might pick up something you could use in The Defiant Duchess."

"I might," Emily said.

Savannah laughed. "You are intrigued, aren't you?"

"I admit it," Emily said.

"Then we'll have to do it, darling," Savannah decided for them.

"I expect we'll be doing it a whole lot that night," Emily riposted back.

"Gracious, what a wicked thrust," Savannah said drolly.

"There will be lots of wicked thrusts that night, won't there, Sava?"

Savannah laughed. "God, I hope so! I haven't had a good orgy in ages, and you haven't had one at all. I do so want your first orgy to be fun, darling."

"I'm going to ring off, Sava," Emily said. "I'll talk to you before I come. Have the inn e-mail me a confirmation."

"Of course. I'll tell old Reg you sent kisses," Savannah replied. "You know he would fuck you if you let him, Emily. He's always fancied you."

"Well, I wouldn't fuck him. Not my best friend's husband," Emily said, a bit shocked. "Give William and little Selena a kiss for me, will you?"

"Well, just thought I'd ask now that you're well broken in and all. It's his birthday in a few weeks, and you would really make a terrific gift. I mean, another consumer something is so predictable, after all."

"Savannah! You are a dreadful woman," Emily said, half laughing. "The one woman in this world you will never have to worry about where Reg is concerned is me. As your husband he is off-limits, as far as I am concerned. I've never even made one of my heroes look like him. Ewww! Creepy. Now, kisses for the children, remember?"

"It's done," Savannah replied. "Night, darling. See you next month."

"Good night, Sava," Emily said, and hung up. She was actually relieved that Lord Palmer would be up in London while she was staying with Savannah. The last time she had been at the manor he had come into her room, and then pretended he had made an error, being somewhat foxed, as he had so quaintly put it. But Emily had known her friend's husband knew exactly where he had been going. He was a hound dawg, to use an Americanism, she thought. Savannah probably knew it too, but she did love Reg and their children, and she loved being Lady Palmer, Baroness Tilbury. And Reg, even if given the opportunity, would never leave his wife. In his way he loved her too.

Love. What a funny emotion, Emily thought. It's physical, and it's emotional. It's delicious lust, and at the same time it's emotions for which there are no words. At least that was how she felt about Devlin. Rina said he loved her. But Devlin had never said it. Not even in the deepest throes of passion had he uttered the word love. The closest he had come was to say he adored her. Adore meant to worship. To be extremely fond of. So he was fond of her. It was something to build upon, wasn't it?

She had entrapped him into seducing her back last spring so she might learn just what sex was all about. She hadn't planned on falling in love with Michael Devlin; nor had she even considered that he would fall in love with her. But she had fallen in love with him, and more than anything in the whole world Emily Shanski wanted Michael Devlin to be in love with her. She wanted a happily-ever-after, complete with a small but fancy wedding, a honeymoon, and two or three children. If her heroines could have it, why couldn't she? She had gotten him into bed. Now could she get him to the altar?

The telephone rang and, surprised, she picked it up.

"Emily, it's Aaron. I've been trying to get you for hours," he said dramatically.

"Aaron, welcome home! How was Italy? How was Capri?" she asked him.

"Tuscany was heaven. Capri overrated. Too many pretty boys. Dancing, dancing, dancing, and drinking twenty-fourIseven. We were supposed to stay a week, but we left after two days. Kirk was right," Aaron Fischer said. "But the Blue Grotto was divine! Now, how is the book coming, and are you getting along with Michael Devlin? You seemed to be content before we left."

"We're lovers," Emily heard herself say.

There was a long pause, and then Aaron said, "Is that wise, sweetheart? I mean, this kind of a relationship between an author and editor has always been a forbidden kind of thing. What happens when it's over? Will you be able to work with each other? And how will you explain it if you can't?"

"Rina says he's in love with me, and Aaron, I am in love with him. Don't I get to be happy too?" Emily asked softly.

"Rina! I should have known! The busybody of the Western world! Don't listen to my sister, Emily. She has no touch with reality."

"The book is three-quarters done," Emily told him. "It will be in on time. I'm going to England next month for a week. I'll be down at Barrow seeing Sava."

Aaron Fischer sighed audibly. "So you don't like my concern," he said. "Sue me. I promised Emily O when I took you on as a client that I would look after you like a daughter, if I had a daughter. I reiterated that promise just before she died. What kind of a father would I be if I weren't concerned? Michael Devlin is charming, and he's a wonderful, talented editor. But he has never shown any inclination to settle down. If you understand that and can live with it, then so be it."

"It isn't just the sex, Aaron," she began. "We get on together. We like the same things, laugh at the same jokes, and he loves my cooking."

"Everyone loves your cooking," Aaron replied. "I can't believe that Mick was so cavalier as to seduce you. I thought he was more professional."

"I seduced him, Aaron. He did try to resist, but I was determined," Emily said.

"Oy vay!" her agent replied. "Well, if nothing else, the misery you're going to find when this madness is over will hopefully translate into even better writing."

Emily laughed. "You really are a wretch, Aaron. But what if he decides it's time to settle down, and he wants to marry me?"

"If Michael Devlin asks you to marry him, sweetheart, then I will walk you down the aisle at St. Anne's and give you away," Aaron Fischer said. "So maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing," he reasoned. "Now, I just called to see that you were all right, and to tell you that tomorrow I will make an appointment with J. P. Woods for a little negotiation session. E-mail me what you've written so far so I can read it before we meet."

"First thing in the morning, Aaron. And Aaron-no one in the business knows except you and Sava. I don't want Devlin embarrassed by any gossip."

Aaron chuckled wisely. "So having seduced him, you are now setting about to stalk him and get him to the altar," he said. "Well, good hunting, sweetheart. I'll call you in a few days and fill you in on what's happening. Good night."

"Night, Aaron. Say hi to Kirk for me." Emily hung up the phone. Then, locking up the house, she went upstairs to bed. She wasn't going to stalk Devlin. No. She was going to run him to the ground and hog-tie him. It was time they were both married.