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  What she couldn’t figure out was why Matt wasn’t being more forthcoming in showing his fiancée off to his mother, to Larry, and to the rest of the world. Perhaps he thought the woman and his mother wouldn’t hit it off. Or, more likely, Matt was just being very casual about the whole thing—not worried because he really had no reason to worry. He still had four weeks to let Eleanor meet his woman of choice, he still had time, and he was confident that his choice would satisfy her and everyone else.

  But would this mystery woman satisfy him? Though Nicky was well aware of Matt’s reputation, she couldn’t help but feel that if Matt were truly happy in his relationship, he wouldn’t have slept with her last night.

  She swallowed, trying to contain the stirring she felt in her stomach at the thought of his hands on her bare back, his fingers dipping under her panties…

  Nicky took a deep breath and realized she was at the end of the hallway where two large doors had been left wide open. They seemed to be waiting for her, inviting her in. Stepping through the impressive entrance, she noticed thick, drawn curtains darkened the room.

  But as her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw Matt’s bed. It had to be his, judging from the sheer size and majesty of it. The four-poster bedstead was shrouded in white, gauze-like material that came flowing down from the ceiling. The sheer fabric hung down over the four posts like an elegant tent, conjuring up images of princes and kings. It’s definitely king-size, she thought with a frown. Lots of room for Matt to share with what’s-her-name.

  Tiptoeing over to a large matching bureau across from the bed, she began to search for evidence of the woman’s presence, beginning with the various objects arranged along the top of the polished teak. There was an assortment of elegant aftershave bottles and lotions, and several tasteful ties hanging over a small standing mirror. Then her gaze fell to a heart-shaped gold frame, half covered by one of the ties. This has to be it, she thought. She grabbed the miniature frame and stared at the woman’s face that smiled generously, amiably back at her.

  A sudden, unexpected sourness filled Nicky’s mouth, and her head began to throb once more. The woman was beautiful all right, exactly the kind of girl she would expect Matt to marry.

  Trying to banish the inexplicable feeling of disappointment that had come over her, Nicky blinked several times, focusing her eyes on the picture. There was something not quite right about it. She carried it over to the window, trying to pull back the heavy curtains to get a better look. Her trained photographer’s eye took in the perfect angle of the shot, the obviously staged windswept hair. Had Matt taken this photo and developed it himself? Perhaps he had his own studio too.

  But as she continued to stare, finally she let out an incredulous laugh. This wasn’t a photograph of Matt’s intended. He simply hadn’t removed the silly paper picture that came with every new frame these days. Turning it over, she pulled the cardboard backing away from the glass, frowned at the model, and shook her head before pressing it back into place.

  Obviously her senses were still foggy, to say the least. Maybe she should return to the guestroom and sleep for another hour or two. But the lure of the drawers right under her fingertips was too great a temptation to resist. Slowly and quietly, Nicky pulled open the first one. She struck gold. There, nestled among Matt’s socks, was a lacy black teddy.

  Holding the intimate garment up with her fingertips, she wondered why anyone would bother with something so frivolous and so expensive. It was a designer label, and she had to admit, the lace was soft and incredibly silky. But there was so little material, what was the point?

  That is exactly the point, and you know it, a little voice inside her head answered.

  Nicky flung the thing over her shoulder and closed the drawer, deciding Matt wouldn’t miss it if it weren’t here. Or, rather, if his girlfriend wasn’t here. No doubt Smith could use this little piece of evidence.

  She had to admit she didn’t like the idea of a woman wearing this flimsy bit of black lace in Matt’s presence. But did that make her envious of this mystery woman, especially considering the fact that he had spent all of last night with her? Nicky pressed her lips firmly together. Not on her life. She wouldn’t want to be in that woman’s high-heeled red shoes again.

  Stepping over to a full-sized mirror that sat in a corner on an oak stand, Nicky held the sheer lace up against herself, trying to imagine what she would look like in such a thing. Probably pretty silly, she thought. Anyway, when she recalled last night and the feeling of being surrounded by Matt’s strong arms—his hard erection straining against her through their various layers of clothing—she knew she didn’t need such props to spur his arousal.

  Of course, there’d been other men in her past, men who might have preferred her in a getup like this. Men who interested her, who earned her respect, but who hadn’t done to her the things Matt could do without even trying. Without even touching her. Never in her life had she experienced anything like it. Never had her body reacted so strongly to a man’s presence as it had last night, wanting, needing, every last inch of him, outside of her and inside.

  Nicky could feel her temperature rising with the mere thought of those few, all-too fleeting moments in his arms. Stuffing the bit of black lace into her jacket pocket, she continued searching through the bureau drawers.

  And that was when she found it—a videotape, used but untitled.

  She grabbed the tape and looked around the room until her eyes fell on a large, handsome cabinet on the far side of the bed. She hurried over and opened the heavy oak doors. Inside was a flat-screen TV and state-of-the-art stereo system. Working quickly, Nicky pressed all the necessary buttons to turn on the unit and slipped the tape into the mouth of the video machine.

  The first image rolled several times, then cleared. It was a shot of a bed, Matt’s bed. It was empty but clearly waiting for someone to inhabit it, the covers drawn back to reveal blue satin sheets. The shot was steady, fixed. Obviously the camera was sitting on a tripod. On the corner of the screen, she saw counter numbers as well as the date.

  She stared hard at those numbers. If they were correct, this video was four years old. Too old to be used as evidence, she thought with a frown. Matt had probably been with dozens of women since then. And he did say he hadn’t known his fiancée very long.

  She continued to stare at the empty frame and was about to press the stop button when she heard a high-pitched female giggling followed by Matt’s distinctive voice. The sound came from all directions of the room, surrounding her.

  “Come on, baby,” he was saying, “do it for me.” His deep, sonorous voice slipped over her skin like a hot, tropical breeze. The surface of her arms responded by rising in goose bumps, as if she were suddenly cold. As if she needed his arms to warm her.

  She couldn’t possibly stop watching now.

  And yet, she was half-afraid of what she might see, afraid the images might stir her jealousy. But really, why should she feel intimidated by a girlfriend from four years ago? A woman who was obviously no longer a part of his life. He probably just kept the tape for those rare moments when he found himself alone, with his sexual needs unfulfilled.

  She sat down on the bed and began nibbling on her fingernails as she continued watching. Sure enough, there was Matt making his entrance into the frame, wearing a thick white robe tied loosely at the waist and, as far as she could tell, nothing else. He was motioning for his companion to join him, which she happily did—a long, lanky brunette wearing a red lace bra that made the most of her abundant breasts. There were panties to match, of course. Panties that rose high on her curvy hips but dipped deep beneath her navel, showing off her perfectly flat abs.

  Nicky found herself leaning forward, wanting to see every detail now as Matt began by caressing her lips with his thumb, tracing that generous pout round and round until she opened her mouth to him. Then he slipped his index finger inside, which she immediately began to suck gratefully, hungrily.

  While she suck
ed his finger, he raised his other hand to her breasts, cupping from beneath those two ripe fruit bound in lace. Then he withdrew from her full mouth and slid his fingertips downward over her chin, down her long, elegant neck, his destination clearly the cleavage that was heaving as the woman’s breathing picked up speed. She seemed to melt under his touch, just as Nicky herself had done last night.

  Last night. Yes, he had cupped her breasts then too, he had sought her cleavage. He had done everything he was doing to this stranger, but differently somehow. With Nicky he had shown more tenderness, he hadn’t been quite so bold. And for a moment, she wondered what that meant, whether Matt had enjoyed her just as much as he was clearly enjoying the woman on the tape.

  Suddenly, Matt turned and faced the camera, startling her. Then he smiled, slowly, seductively. It was as if he could see her, as if he knew she was watching and liked what he saw.

  She pulled back, but couldn’t tear her eyes away as he grasped the woman’s waist and positioned her in front of him, snaring her. They were still standing in front of the bed, both facing the camera, Matt with his arms around the woman, she with her head flung back against his shoulder.

  Nicky could see that Matt already knew what he was going to do to the woman. He had this sex scene all planned out, like the movie script of a piece of imported pornography. And like everything else he did, he was good at it. Too good.

  Now she was curious. More than anything, she wanted to know what kind of sex he had in mind for this woman and himself. What secret fantasy was he acting out?

  Matt reached down and grasped the underside of the woman’s right knee. Slowly, he raised it, bringing her thigh up and then opening it to the side, effectively spreading her legs for the camera. Yes, he definitely knew what he was doing. He must have known there was a deliberate, gaping hole in the crotch of those lacy red panties, which he would show to whoever wanted to watch. An opening meant for one thing and one thing only. Him.

  Nicky felt her loins flare with sudden heat and what felt like an electric current traveling inward, toward her labia and the peak of her sex that was beginning to feel constrained by her own, comparatively conservative panties.

  Hoping to alleviate her need, Nicky slipped her hand between her thighs. The outside of her panties was warm and already saturated with her arousal. She pushed the material aside and traced her fingers along the outside of her labia, feeling the liquid warmth beneath her fingertips. Then she opened the swollen lips with her fingers to expose her raised clitoris.

  With her eyes still on the screen, she began to rub the side of her sensitive bud, while Matt slid his hand along the woman’s thigh toward her exposed sex. When he reached the ready opening, Nicky could almost feel, could almost imagine she was the woman in Matt’s arms.

  She rubbed harder against her clitoris, following Matt’s movements, the way he stroked her, the way he slid down through the warm juices to circle around the outside of her vagina. Then he penetrated, sliding his fingers inside. Nicky followed suit, letting out a cry of yearning as she imagined him sinking into her.

  Meanwhile, the woman was also breathing heavily. Nicky opened her half-closed eyes to see her writhing and whimpering in his arms. The unnamed woman reached behind her to feel Matt’s solid thighs that barred her from moving away, that held her trapped in the frame.

  Nicky watched as the woman reached for the opening of Matt’s robe. When she found it, she pushed it aside, fanning her hands across the solid muscles of Matt’s tanned, muscular legs. Feeling the way she was grasping him, Matt groaned and pressed against her, adjusting himself until his erection was visible to the camera, darting out from between the woman’s legs and rising toward the place where his fingers still stroked, still caressed.

  Nicky gasped when she saw it, as if for the first time. His erect shaft was truly a thing of beauty, she thought, like the excited member of a Greek god. It was large and thick, the head perfectly formed and ready for penetration into the woman’s wet opening. Into her own…

  Then Matt did something unexpected. He grasped her waist and pushed the woman down onto the bed, so she was half-standing, half-leaning with her hands flat against the mattress, her arms straight out in front of her, as if bracing herself from falling.

  Reaching along the plane of her back, Matt snapped open her bra, which instantly released her breasts.

  Nicky had thought the woman’s breasts were of fair proportions, but now she could see just how large and magnificent they were, bobbing heavily in the air, their erect nipples pointing downward toward the blue satin sheets. Her lacy red bra dropped halfway down her arms and remained suspended there while he separated her legs, almost aggressively pushing them astride, as if he really were a Greek god and she a mere mortal. As if he had every right to come down from the lofty heavens and take her.

  Watching with rapt concentration, without even blinking, Nicky witnessed Matt’s domination of the woman, who let out a scream as he entered her suddenly, savagely. Nicky gasped too. The image was enough to spark her memory of what that felt like, having Matt’s throbbing, full cock fill her empty passage.

  Pressing her fingers inside her vagina, Nicky could imagine he was mounting her, dominating her the way he was dominating this woman. Meanwhile, her clitoris throbbed, crying out for attention. With her other hand, Nicky stroked the swollen head, all the time watching Matt and the woman rise toward orgasm, their bodies heaving.

  Nicky was just about to reach her own climax when she saw Matt unexpectedly stop. Just as confused as Nicky, the woman tried to turn, to see his face.

  “Tell me you want it,” he murmured. “Tell me.”

  The woman breathed heavily, turned away. “I want it,” she whispered.

  “But what is it you want?” he asked, withdrawing as slowly as he spoke. His erection remained poised outside the open crotch, throbbing and dancing with desire, waiting for the woman to utter the right words. The correct secret code.

  “I want you to fuck me,” she said breathlessly.

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Fuck me!” she replied desperately.

  And Matt happily obliged. Watching his wild penetration, the way he gave the woman what she had asked for, brought Nicky to the edge of ecstasy. With a stroking rhythm against her clitoris that was firm and fast, she came, crying out simultaneously with the two people on the video.

  When she opened her eyes a moment later, she saw that the frame had gone fuzzy. It was the end of the tape.

  Her body was still throbbing as she struggled to her feet and tried to pull herself together. She removed the tape, replaced it in its plain purple sleeve, and returned it to Matt’s top drawer.

  But she wasn’t quite ready to return to reality. Instead, she went back to the bed and flung herself down against it.

  The residual tremors from her orgasm had diminished into a feeling of deep, physical relief. Nicky sighed and stretched her arms into the empty space on either side of her. Empty, all too empty.

  Just then her hand brushed up against something strangely out of place. Something rough around the edges.

  She turned over and looked at the place her hand had been, where the corner of the duvet had been pulled back. There, tucked just underneath, was a manila envelope with flowery writing on the outside.

  She reached for the envelope and instinctively brought it close to her nose. The subtle smell of roses filled her nostrils. Across it, Matt’s name and address was spelled out in dark India ink. There was a postmark, but it was too smudged to read.

  Nicky knew she should be relieved to find such evidence, but instead, she just sat there, staring at his name written so lovingly. Unlike the videotape, a letter would no doubt provide her with the name of his fiancée, which meant this piece of paper alone might be enough to release her from Lindenfield. Yet, strangely enough, she didn’t feel freed. Or was it that she didn’t want to be freed?

  With this new piece of evidence in her hands, Nicky found herself flung
headlong into a new sense of reality. She sat up abruptly and stared at the still-open TV cabinet. What had she been thinking? What was it about Matt that made her lose her rightful mind and all sense of herself? She had to stop thinking of him, and she especially had to stop fantasizing about him.

  Frowning, Nicky determinedly climbed off the bed, smoothing the outlines of the place where her body had been on the soft duvet. She closed the cabinet securely and went back to where she’d left her camera on the bureau. She picked it up, then looked down at the letter in her hand. Although she knew she shouldn’t take the time to read it here, she couldn’t resist a quick peek.

  Peering into the envelope, she could make out only the very beginning.

  My dearest Matthew,

  How I’ve missed you this week. Things just aren’t as bright when you’re not around. When are you coming to see me again? Father says you don’t visit often enough.

  It was a love letter all right, but definitely nothing spectacular in terms of originality. Deciding she’d finish it in her room, she closed the envelope and slipped it into her pocket along with the teddy.

  As she left the room and headed back down the long hallway, Nicky found herself trying to put together the image of that black lace teddy with the voice of the person who wrote the letter. Matt’s fiancée wrote more like a young girl than a woman, and yet, she had left this racy little lace number in his drawer as a reminder of their spicy sex life. Did the two add up? Not to her. But then again, what did she know about how other women behaved around men? What, in fact, did she know about relationships at all?

  She knew how Smith would see it. The teddy was one thing, but a letter was quite another. The first, to him, would represent pure physical attraction, but the second was obviously a display of much deeper affections. And according to Smith, physical attraction combined with deep feelings was the right equation, the ultimate in compatibility. Yes, Matt Anderson would marry. His mother had no reason to be concerned or disheartened about that.