Cold Target (22 page)

She took it solemnly and gave Gage a look of delight. “He has very good manners.”

“He thanks you,” he said, inordinately pleased and at the same time displeased at that pleasure.

“Did you teach him that?”

He shrugged. “He's a smart dog.”

“How did you find him?”

“A drug bust. Apparently, he was supposed to intimidate. He tried his best, but his heart wasn't really in it. He took one look at me and came over to the good side.”

“You told me to get a dog. If I do, will you train him?”

“He shrugged. “I don't want to mislead you. I didn't train him. He trained himself.”

Damn, if she kept looking at him like that with those blue eyes, he would take her right on the hall table.

He forced himself to stop looking and led the way into the living room. It was a man's space. A large leather sofa and two leather easy chairs were situated in front of a large television set. Bookcases surrounded a sound system.

He saw her gaze travel over the room, just as he had done with her office. “What's your pleasure? I have beer, scotch, bourbon, red wine.”

“Beer.”

He'd expected the red wine. But as usual, she surprised him. She was making a habit of that.

“Coming up. Make yourself comfortable.”

He went into his kitchen. Small but functional. A bachelor, he'd been forced to learn to cook.

She followed. Beast followed her.

Alienation of affection, indeed. The damn dog had fallen in love.

He opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. “Glass?”

“Nope.”

He must have looked startled because she chuckled and added, “You didn't think lady lawyers drank beer from the bottle? It's colder that way.”

“I didn't think daughters of New Orleans's most prominent families drank beer from a bottle,” he corrected.

She grimaced. “Don't tell me you're a reverse snob.”

He probably was. He didn't want to admit it. Instead he reached in and grabbed a beer for himself. As he closed the door, he stepped back.

Into her.

Awareness shimmered between them. Thundered like a sudden Southern storm. A craving such as he had never known gnawed inside him. She looked up at him. He saw himself in her eyes and he was suddenly stronger, better than he was. He put the beers down and then reached out and touched her face. Soft. He trailed his thumb across her cheekbone and down to the small of her throat. He felt her pulse. Fast. Like his.

Gage lowered his head, though not much since she was tall, and his lips met hers. He lost himself in the feel of them, the receptiveness, the welcome. The passion that met his.

The kiss exploded into something else, something stronger, deeper. He ached for her. He ached for what he wanted from her, for what he wanted to give to her.

His arms went around her. He'd known when he brought her here that he'd be opening a part of him he'd shut off for years. Yet there hadn't been a choice. Like the tides of the ocean, her pull left him helpless to resist. All the dikes he'd built after his engagement had collapsed were crumpling.

He pulled back. “We're like water and oil,” he said.

She gave him a crooked smile. “Who is which?”

He didn't answer for a moment, then muttered almost to himself. “I tried this before.”

“And what happened?”

“Nothing good.”

Her gaze never faltered. “
I
haven't tried this before.”

He took a long breath. “Water and oil?”

“More like falling off a cliff.”

Dammit. She looked so vulnerable. He knew she was anything but that. Yet in this moment, he understood her uncertainty. They had nothing in common. They had been adversaries. They would be adversaries again. She was a defense attorney. He was a cop. They were terrible for each other. Worse than water and oil.

But then he looked into the sea blue eyes again and was lost. To hell with reservations. Or consequences.

He kissed her again, felt her body lean into his, and he responded. Damn, but he responded. The building warmth was becoming an inferno, the ache in his groin intensifying. He felt the swelling and braced for the need he knew was coming.

Gage buried his fingers in her short curly hair that smelled like flowers. It was as soft as silk and twined around his fingers.

He touched her cheek, and the fire in her eyes seemed to smolder. The blue was like the hottest part of a flame, not the cool clear blue of the ice queen. He leaned over and his lips brushed hers, lightly at first.

Her lips were yielding, welcoming. Eager. His kiss deepened, his tongue entering her mouth. Teasing. Then engaging in a primitive mating game. She stilled for a moment, then responded with a passionate curiosity that kindled a recklessness he couldn't control.

Nothing mattered then except the need they created as they fed on each other, tasting, exploring, reacting. He wanted her. God, how he wanted her.

He pulled her tighter to him, his hands caressing her back, the nape of her neck. He slid his lips from hers and trailed them along the side of her cheek.

The desire within him was near explosion. He took a step away but he didn't take his hands from her. Instead they moved to her blouse and deftly unbuttoned it. Her breasts strained against the silk of her bra. He pulled down the straps and leaned down and nuzzled first one breast, then the other, feeling the nipples harden as her hands explored the back of his neck.

She uttered a small cry, and he sensed she was consumed by the same wild yearning as he.

“Meredith?” he asked, seeking permission.

She nodded. He took her by the hand and led her down the hall to his large bedroom, dominated by his king-size bed. He turned on the small lamp that overlooked his desk and reached inside the top drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a small package. He halted there, uncertain. But he wanted everything to be right.

This time she took the lead. She unbuttoned his shirt, then helped him pull off the T-shirt he wore. Her hands roamed his chest, her fingers playing with the short crinkling hair.

The craving deep inside him proliferated with every touch, spreading like wildfire until every nerve end tingled with need.

He took her bra off, then unzipped her slacks and watched as she stepped out of them, standing only in a pair of flimsy panties. She was beautiful, her body taut with just the right curves.

He cupped her breasts, and he felt them swell. His gaze went to her face. Her lips were slightly damp and crooked into a small uncertain smile. Tenderness washed through him. “You're beautiful, you know.”

She looked startled, as if she had never been told that before. Then she smiled, and it was as if the sun had suddenly paid a visit. She stood up on tiptoes and her lips skimmed his. “Thank you.”

“A fact doesn't call for a thank-you,” he said, putting his arms around her again, this time feeling her skin against his, relishing the warmth that played between them. His lips found her ear, nuzzling the lobe gently, and he enjoyed the sudden tenseness in her body.

His hands skimmed up her body. He familiarized himself with it, memorized it. He kicked off his shoes, then unzipped and pulled off trousers that were becoming unbearably snug.

He watched her eyes study him, then she held out her hands to him. He took them and together they sank down onto the bed.

Gage made himself go slow. He slipped off her panties, then leaned over, his mouth seducing hers, his tongue inviting her to join with him.

Meredith had never felt this wild abandon before, had never been so bold with a man. She had never felt so at ease while at the same time so consumed by need.

Gage's mouth moved hungrily on hers, spreading a honeyed, wheedling warmth throughout her body. The warmth became heat, then a fever as her body melded into his.

She heard his heartbeat. It raced as rapidly as her own. Her hand moved instinctively to the back of his neck, teasing with whisper-soft strokes. As her hands coaxed forth reaction, so did her lips, meeting his with equal hunger until they were both caught in frantic eddies of desire that she knew couldn't be stopped.

His lips released hers and brushed over her cheek, then traveled down her body to her breasts and across her stomach. Surges of physical pleasure swamped her as his fingers explored farther. As her expectation climbed to an unbearable summit, he rose up over her, his manhood touching, teasing, playing against her. Craving overwhelmed her. She wanted him as she had never wanted a man before.

All the time, his hands caressed, soothing while burning, reassuring while inciting.

He turned away for a moment, and she heard the rustle of cellophane. Then he turned back to her and slowly entered her, the physical sensation causing her to gasp. It had been a very long time since she had been intimate, and even then it had been nothing like this, nothing like this … gnawing hunger of her body.

His movements became more urgent, and something wild and primal surged through her. She gasped at the growing intensity of the swells of pleasure rocking her as he plunged deeper and deeper, each stroke sending waves of ecstasy billowing through her.

Meredith reacted in a way she had never expected. Her body instinctively moved in an intimate exotic dance, her body melding with his in a kind of equality in which they both gave and took. The sensations built and built until, shuddering, he exploded in her, and she collapsed in hundreds of tingling vibrations.

He turned her so they lay side by side, breathing heavily. His lips touched hers in almost awed reverence as both their bodies shuddered with tremors from the aftermath.

His hand inched over and took hers. “Wow,” he said.

That was a understatement as far as she was concerned. She'd never understood the glory of lovemaking. Now she did.

And it
was
glory. She relished every lingering reaction, every twinge. She hadn't realized that loving could be a gentle thing as well as a needy one.

He cradled her head with his arm. She snuggled next to him, feeling no need for words. There was a comfort in his presence, a sense of belonging in his arms.

It was Beast that interrupted the reverie. He placed his large head on her knee and started licking.

Gage chuckled. “Go away,” he said.

Beast looked stricken but obediently stepped away and sat down, never taking his eyes away from them.

“I think he's jealous,” Gage said in his slow Louisiana drawl. The sound of his voice rumbled through her.

Reluctantly she glanced at his bedside clock. Eleven.

“Stay with me,” he said.

“I can't. I have to go by the hospital and …”

And she wasn't ready to stay with him all night. That would be a commitment of sorts. She had to think about this.

His eyes seemed to tell her he knew exactly what she was thinking. “All right,” he said. “I'll take you to your car, or would you rather go to the hospital first? Either way, I'm sticking with you until you get home.”

“You don't have to—”

“I do, Meredith. And not just because of tonight.” He hesitated, then added slowly, “You don't owe me anything, and I don't owe you. It was chemistry, and …” His voice trailed off.

“And?” she prompted.

“You've been under a lot of strain.”

“An easy mark, you mean.”

“No, dammit.”

“You want to see me home because of duty?”

“Well, there is some pleasure involved,” he admitted wryly.

Chemistry
. It was certainly that. But it had been more, and she sensed he knew it as well as she did, regardless of his denials. “And you?” she asked when it was very clear that he was not going to continue. “What is your excuse? Have you been under pressure?”

He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed and gave her a crooked grin. “Except for tonight, this has not been my best week.”

“Why?” She couldn't turn her gaze away from him, from the firm, hard body that was so tanned and fit. Her body still tingled from his lovemaking. She thought the memory would always be in every fiber of her body.

He didn't answer. But as he had said, neither of them should expect anything from the other. A one-night stand, so to speak.

Had she hoped for anything else? She certainly hadn't wanted any entanglements. She had eschewed those long ago.

She watched as he stood and pulled on briefs, then jeans. He looked incredibly sexy as he stood shirtless and with his hair messed.

He held out his hand. “You never had that beer.”

“No,” she said.

“Now?”

“No.” Her comfort zone was gone, lost in the indifference of her host.

He drew a T-shirt over his head, and gathered her clothes and handed them to her. He was taking her at her word after she said she had to leave. No argument. No discussion.

It was what she wanted. Why did she feel so betrayed? She disliked people who played games and now she was angry because he hadn't. Not angry. Disappointed. Frighteningly disappointed.

She wouldn't let him see it. She put on her bra, then her blouse. She needed the armor it provided her. She concentrated on that. Then she reached for her panties and finally her slacks.

“Bathroom?” she asked.

“On the left,” he said.

She went down the hall and turned left into a large bathroom. Definitely remodeled. Older houses did not have elaborate bathrooms. This one had both a tub and large separate shower. Several clean towels were folded beside the wash basin.

She wondered whether it was the one he used, or a guest bath. If so, who were the guests? And he'd had protection in a drawer of his nightstand beside the bed. She didn't like the obvious answer to both observations.

Meredith looked at herself in the mirror that stretched across one side of the wall. Her hair was totally mussed. She ran her fingers through the curls, trying to bring back some semblance of order. But she could do nothing about the flush of her cheeks or the glazed look of her eyes.