Denver Strike by Randy Wayne White

Author:Randy Wayne White
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504024594
Publisher: Open Road Media Mystery & Thriller

ten

Hawker spent a heart-pounding hour going from the hot tub to the icy water of the plunge pool, then to the sauna, then to the steam room, then back to the plunge pool, then once again to the hot tub.

He began to wonder if his body would ever need to sweat again.

They kept sipping at the wine, kept drifting off into the reverie of music that matched the silver-tanged afterglow of sunset in the mountains, kept exchanging easy conversation. Hawker was aware that the woman was yawning more, stretching more, allowing more eye and body contact. He knew that she was coming around and would soon be ready to bed. The trick would be for him to keep from passing out before the time came.

“Steam room time!” Melissa called gaily, pouring the last few drops from the empty champagne bottle. She looked at the bottle with a pouting expression, then looked at Hawker. It was their second bottle, and she obviously wanted more.

“Hit the cold water, then the steam room. I’ll get another bottle and meet you in there,” Hawker said.

The vigilante walked barefoot and wet, his feet slapping, into the house. The fire was burning low, and he added more wood. In the kitchen, he found another magnum of wine, and a single lone Coors for himself. Seeing a beer in this house of expensive furnishings and in-crowd gismos was like seeing an old friend. He stopped in the bathroom, urinated, and noticed a bottle of coconut oil on the shelf. He took it outside with him.

Melissa was stretched out on the top deck of the cedarwood-and-rock steam room. Her hands were locked behind her head so that the bone structure of her hips and pelvis was arched toward the ceiling. She opened one eye briefly as Hawker came in. “Umm, where’s the wine?”

“Outside in the plunge pool chilling. Why do you keep that thing so cold? One more trip to that place, and my scrotum may just crawl to cover and decide not to come back out.”

“It’s good for your skin. It closes the pores, silly.”

“I found something here that’s supposed to be good for the skin, too.” The vigilante held up the bottle of oil for inspection. “Care for a backrub, lady?”

“I’m not sure, James,” she said in a small voice. “This has been so much fun, and now if you touch me and I can’t make myself like it, it would spoil—”

“Nothing is going to be spoiled,” Hawker” said, “and I don’t want you to make yourself do anything. Just lie there. If you don’t like it, tell me to stop. That’s all there is to it. Okay?”

The woman took a deep breath. “Okay, dear. But I’m warning you, this is a first for me. I know hardly anything about—about loving a man.”

Hawker opened the coconut oil, poured some into his hand, and smeared it on her legs. He began to massage the oil into her skin, enjoying the scent of it, enjoying the sleepy, faraway look on the woman’s perfect face.

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