and didn’t bother to question anything else.
The tension in her shoulders eased and she turned to stare at him. “Mannequins?”
He nodded. “Without people in the scene, it was just another room with a lot of rusty chains.”
“That’s a very odd way of looking at it.”
“People have said I have an odd way of looking at a lot of things.”
She moved to stand in front of the rack. “Where did you find this?”
“From a place that makes props for movies and haunted houses.” He stood beside her and ran his hand along the metal wheel that, when turned, forced the opposite ends of the frame farther apart. “It’s supposed to be an authentic copy. I used it in a painting once—a commissioned piece for a collector.” Last he’d heard, the painting was hanging at a very exclusive S & M club in Los Angeles.
He felt her eyes on him and shifted to meet her gaze. “Why do you paint the scenes you do?” she asked. “What is the attraction of bondage and sadomasochism and all that?”
“Other than the fact that it’s set me apart from other artists and made me a lot of money?”
“I doubt that’s reason enough for an artist to keep working in one area for so long. Doesn’t creativity require more to feed it than the promise of a big paycheck?”
“Don’t tell Doug that. The man relates everything to money.”
“That’s because he’s not an artist. So what is it about this…this kinky stuff, that interests you?”
He lifted a loose manacle and fastened it around his wrist.
Natalie gasped. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry. I have a key.” He admired the fit of the metal around his wrist. “Art explores emotion. When I paint, I want to elicit some emotion from people. And some emotion from myself.” His eyes met hers, daring her to look away. “Take, for instance, bondage. People resist the idea of being tied up. Of having their freedom taken from them. But the restraints offer another kind of freedom. There’s freedom in surrendering completely to another. Freedom in not having to be in control, in allowing yourself to enjoy an experience totally without having to be in charge of what happens next.”
She swallowed, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips. “Are you speaking from personal experience?”
“Perhaps.” He took an ornate iron key from a peg at the end of the rack and fitted it into the lock. When he was free once more he took a step toward her.
“What about…the other? S & M? Pain as pleasure?” Her mouth twisted in an expression of distaste.
“I’m interested in exploring sexuality from a lot of different angles. The endorphins released as a response to pain can be related to the endorphins induced by pleasurable experiences. Different people respond to different things—fetishes, being dominant or submissive, role-playing. They’re all ways for people to get out of themselves, away from the things that limit them, to something purer.”
Her breathing grew more irregular, her eyes dilating. They were playing a dangerous game here, a kind of foreplay he enjoyed perhaps more than he should. She could stop him anytime, but he would take this as far as she let him. He wanted a glimpse at the core of the woman. Was she the innocent girl Doug had described, or a woman who felt the pull of attraction the way he did? He stepped closer still, reaching for her, even as he prepared for her to push him away.
The lights flickered, then went out, plunging them into the darkness of the blind. Natalie’s scream pierced the silence. He reached to comfort her, but she wasn’t there.
3
SARTAIN FOUND Natalie huddled against the wall, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She flinched when he touched her, but didn’t try to run away. “What is it?” he asked, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. Her fingers were icy, and he could feel her trembling.
“I—I’m afraid of the dark,” she said. “I know it’s silly, but I can’t help it, I—”
“It’s all right.” He released her hand but kept his arm around her as he felt along the wall until he came to a niche that held a candle. He located the lighter next to it, and flicked it open.
She began to relax as soon as the candle was lit. “What happened?” she asked. “Why did the lights go out?”
“Probably the storm we’re having. Lightning could have struck a transformer, or a tree could have fallen on the lines.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Enough that we keep candles in every room.”
“Why candles? Why not a flashlight?”
“Flashlight batteries corrode if left too long unused.” He looked around at the shadows cast by the candle across the stone walls. “Besides, the candlelight adds a certain atmosphere, don’t you think?”
“Damn your atmosphere. Just get me out of here.”
“In a moment.” He turned to look into her eyes. They were black in the dim light, the pupils enlarged. She’d stopped shaking, her body warm against his. All his better judgment told him to move away and lead her to the door, but then, when had he ever let judgment rule his decisions? He was a man used to indulging his passion and right now he wanted to know if Natalie felt the heat simmering between them.
Slowly, half prepared for her to slap him away, he bent toward her, and covered her lips with his own.
She stiffened, and he held still, not pressing his advantage, waiting for her to decide how far this would go. Then her breath, like a whisper, escaped in the slightest sigh, and she relaxed against him, her eyes closed, her lips parted.
He pulled her closer still, the pressure of his lips on hers increasing. Her mouth was soft and sensuous; the velvet feel of it sent desire surging through him.
Her lips parted farther and he plunged his tongue between them, tasting a faint sweetness. She gripped his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin, and he shut his eyes, surrendering to the hot wanting that engulfed him. Every nerve was alive to the feel of her, the sweep of her tongue across his teeth, the points of her breasts pressed against his chest, the tiny moans of pleasure escaping from her throat.
Light flashed behind his closed eyes, and he opened them to see that power had been restored. Once more the electric torches flickered in their sconces.
Natalie pulled away. He resisted the urge to hold her and reluctantly released her. She pressed back against the wall, one hand to her lips, confusion warring with accusation in her eyes. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she said, her voice breathy.
“Why didn’t you stop me?” He had expected her to, up until the moment her mouth opened to him, and he felt her body melt into his. He had the sense that Natalie was a woman who was used to denying herself, and that her brief surrender to him both horrified and fascinated her.
She looked away. “I wasn’t myself. I was upset. I—”
“Shhh.” He brushed her hair back from her forehead. She trembled at his touch, but didn’t push him away. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”
“Of course I do.” She straightened and fixed him with a stern look. “I work for you. What just happened between us—”
“It was a kiss. You don’t have to be afraid to say it.”
Her cheeks were a deep pink, and he sensed her struggle to continue to meet his gaze. “It was highly unprofessional behavior,” she said.
He shrugged. “Sometimes it’s okay to do something simply because it feels right.” Kissing Natalie had felt more right than anything he’d done in a long while.
She