Fallen Angels: Beguiled\Wanton\Uncovered (43 page)

That far from the street, the light of lampposts barely penetrated.

Immediately, Harris was beside her. “Hey, you okay?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “Just a little tired today.”

She'd been pale earlier, unsteady on her feet, and now she was tired? Clair never got tired. Hell, usually he was the first to get winded when they ran, and he knew he was in extremely good shape. All firefighters were.

Come to that, so was Clair, and he didn't mean healthwise, although that applied too. Her white shirt and shorts reflected the scant moonlight, emphasizing certain swells and hollows, making her body look more feminine than ever.

She bent one knee, stuck the other leg out straight. The pose showed off the length of her long legs, causing Harris's mouth to go dry. Her dark brown hair, hanging loose tonight, lifted a bit with a gentle breeze. His fingers twitched with the need to smooth it back into place. He resisted.

Still with her eyes closed, Clair smiled.

“Why,” Harris asked, full of suspicion now, “are you smiling like that?”

Her eyes opened, her head tilted. “Like what?”

“Like you have a secret.”

For a single moment there, Harris thought he saw alarm flicker in her gaze. Then she straightened away from the tree. “Don't be absurd. Can't a woman smile?”

“Sure.” He propped his hands on his hips. “When she's got a reason.”

“I'm happy,” Clair snapped, in a very unhappy tone. “I feel good. The air's fresh, your company, before just now, wasn't too heinous, and so I smiled.” She shoved past him. “I won't make that mistake again.”

Harris caught her arm and pulled her around. She slammed into his chest, but quickly back-stepped. “You get mad too easy, too fast.”

She relented just a bit, tugging free of his hold and folding her arms around her middle. Sounding mulish, she said, “I'm not mad.”

“No? Then what?”

She stared up at him, one expression after another crossing her features before she stalked in a circle around him. Harris turned, keeping her in his sights.

“You told me I wouldn't understand about lust.”

Oh hell. First bras and now this. Except for the racing of his heart and a twitch of male interest, Harris went very still. “Yeah.”
Shut up, Harris. Let it go….
“And?”

“You were wrong.”

He shouldn't have pushed for an explanation. “I am, huh?”

She nodded. “I'm…antsy. The guy you were asking about? We broke up two months ago.” She peeked up at Harris, all innocent temptation. “I haven't been out with a guy since.”

No way could he have this conversation. Not with a platonic girlfriend. Not without a bed around. He took a step back. “Right. Gotcha. Maybe a, uh, run will help.”

“No. I need to find a new guy.” As if she hadn't just dropped a verbal bombshell, Clair turned away and headed back to the sidewalk. “In the meantime, running just exhausts me so I can sleep at night instead of fantasizing.”

Fantasizing! Well, yeah, so all women probably fantasized, same as men. But Clair? Harris stomped after her. “What the hell does that mean, you have to find a new guy? You make it sound like shoe shopping.”

She ignored his furious blustering to say, “Come on. Let's finish our run.” Rather than wait for him, she took off, forcing Harris to catch up.

Because he was annoyed now, it took him only two long strides to reach her side. “So where do you intend to look for this new guy?”

“I dunno.” She glanced at him over her glasses. “You got any suggestions?”

Of all the nerve. “You can't tell me you're horny, then expect me to help you find a guy.”

She whipped around so fast he nearly plowed over her. They bumped. Hard. Harris had to catch her arms to keep them both on their feet.

Giving her a small shake, he groused, “What the hell is the matter with you?”

“Me!” She pushed him away, almost landing him on his butt. “I didn't say anything about being
horny
—how crass is that?”

“You think antsy sounds prettier? It means the same thing.”

Clair gasped. “It does not.”

Disgusted, Harris stared into her sexy green eyes and taunted, “Then I was right. You don't know anything about lust.”

Her pupils flared. The seconds passed with the impact of a ticking bomb. He could feel the tension building, stretching almost to the breaking point—and she attacked.

One second Harris was standing there, smirking at her, and then he was flat on his back in the cold dank grass, little rocks prodding his spine, mosquitoes buzzing with delight at the feast thrown to them.

And Clair, well, Clair had an unshakable grip on his skull and her mouth was plastered to his, hot and wet and demanding. Somehow, with the prodding of her tongue, he opened and she plundered, licking and tasting, stealing his objections and melting them with her heat.

Astounded, instantly aroused, Harris cupped her head, felt the silkiness of her hair, the warmth of her skin. He tipped his head for a better angle and let her deepen the kiss more.
Clair,
he thought. This was Clair straddling him, Clair kissing him with so much passion. Her breasts flattened on his chest, her thighs shifted against his, wrenching a deep groan from him.

Then she was gone.

Moon and stars filled Harris's vision. His lungs labored to draw in more cool night air. His body burned. Confused, he pushed up to his elbows. Clair stood over him, hands on her hips, her glasses askew, her white shorts now dirty.

“That,” she said, “is lust.”

Harris nodded in complete and total agreement. “I'll say.”

She offered him a hand, and when he took it, she helped haul him to his feet. Looking down into her earnest face, Harris scrambled for something to say, some way to get back into that full-body contact. But before a single idea could form, Clair touched his chin, his jaw, gently, softly.

Harris went mute with anticipation.

She stepped up against him, cuddling into him, wrapping her arms around him. After a long, meaningful stare into his eyes that scorched him clean through to his bones, she went on tiptoe and kissed him again. This kiss was as different as night and day from the first. It was purposeful, sweet, and it consumed him.

Like a slow burn, she involved his entire body, her small hands touching up and down his bare back, over his shoulders, as if in awe of his muscles and strength. Her feet moved between his, which aligned her soft belly with his groin. She pressed, proving she was aware of his erection.

Her breasts brushed against him, teasing, taunting, until he felt her stiffened nipples and growled.

She made small sounds of pleasure and hunger too, her tongue now shy, loving.

Loving?

With a pat to his rear, Clair pulled away. He watched as she slowly licked her lips. “And that,” she whispered, “is antsy.”

Breathless, hot, more than a little ready, Harris reached for her. “I don't think I quite understand yet. You better do a little more explaining.”

C
LAIR'S QUICK BACK STEP
kept her out of reach. “If that explanation didn't suffice, then nothing will. You're hopeless.” She turned away.

Did women always have to be so confusing?

Neither of them jogged this time. Hell, just walking was tough for Harris. He had a major Jones and she just didn't seem all that affected. Except for the wobbly way she walked. And the way she breathed too deeply.

He couldn't just let it go, so after half a dozen steps, he cleared his throat and ventured into murky water. “So…that was just a lesson, huh?”

“Think what you will.”

She sounded all prickly again. Clair never got prickly with him. He wasn't used to it and didn't have a clue how to deal with her in this mood. “How about you just explain it?”

One shoulder lifted in a halfhearted shrug. “Men get horny and want to get laid. Women get antsy and want to touch and be touched, to cuddle and be affectionate.” She cast him a quick look. “And then make love.”

He raised his hand. “I'll take either one.”

“I wasn't offering.”

“Yeah, you were.” When she turned to face him, Harris chastised her with a look. “I'm a little slow on the uptake sometimes, but I'm not a complete dolt. You're coming on to me.”

She didn't reply to that one way or the other.

He needed verification, damn it. “I'm willing, Clair.”

The incredulous look she gave him didn't bode well. “Willing? Oh great, bring out the band. Harris is
willing.
” Her laugh reeked with sarcasm. “How did I get so lucky?”

Figuring her out wasn't going to be easy. “Bad word choice? Should I have said happy to oblige? Anxious? Maybe desperate?”

Her eyes narrowed behind the lenses of her glasses. “Are you?”

“After those killer kisses, what do you think?”

She reached around him to pat his ass again—right over the pocket that held the photo and his key. The woman sure had a thing for his rear.

“I think you're desperate to find your stupid mystery woman and I'd just be a way to pass the time.” She crossed her arms over her chest, going all stiff and angry.

Uh-oh.

He took too long trying to figure out what to say, because she demanded, “Isn't that right?”

Harris held out his hands. “C'mon, Clair. I can't just forget about her. But hell, I don't even know her.”

“You told me you didn't know me that well either.”

They were a good mile from home, which ensured no matter what he said she couldn't just stalk off in a temper. That gave Harris small comfort, though, when he didn't know what the hell to say. “Up until a few minutes ago, I didn't know you were interested in…that.”

“That?” she asked meanly, curling her lip, being deliberately derisive.

“Sex. Me.”

“The two combined?”

“Exactly.” He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, slowing her furious stomp to a more sedate pace. When she didn't object, he decided to just hang on to her. Touching her was nice. At least now it was. Before she'd kissed him, he hadn't really noticed how it felt to touch her. Realizing that, he said, “I need a few minutes to adjust, that's all. Neither of us has thought that much about sleeping together.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Was that a confession? His interest sharpened to an ache. “You've thought about me?”

“You're not an ogre, Harris. Most of the time, you're not too moronic. I'm not with anyone else. Do the math.”

Harris chewed over those critical and questionable compliments, and didn't like the conclusion he came to. “So like your ex-boyfriend, I'd be filler until something better came along?”

She laughed. “Harris, honey, do try to remember your own credos, okay?”

Honey?

“You don't want to be anything more than filler. You don't want a woman getting ideas of forever after. You're totally against marriage.” She waited two heartbeats, then prodded him. “Right?”

“Uh, yeah.” But somehow that didn't seem to be the point right now. “So you thought about, what? A quick fling?” He could start with that, maybe work up to more….

“You weren't listening to my instructions a minute ago, were you?” Typically Clair, she turned to walk backward so she could see his face. “I thought I was more than clear that men want it quick. I want it slow and easy. I want to—”

He swallowed hard.

“—take my time.” She continued pacing backward. “But there's that mystery lady occupying you right now.” Her sigh was absurdly long. “So we can just go on being sexless buds. No problem.”

No problem? What about his boner? That was a definite problem. And his curiosity, which was so keen he suddenly felt obsessed with knowing Clair intimately. And there was a strange excitement he'd never felt with any other woman, too. Maybe it was the way she insulted him so energetically. “I may never meet that woman, Clair. I mean, I know Alec and Dane are good, but that doesn't guarantee they'll find her.”

“And if they did?”

How should he answer that? The mystery alone made him want to approach the woman, to talk to her, to find out how she knew him and why she hadn't ever told him how she felt. There was her sex appeal, and the notes, her sincerity and admiration…

“Yeah, that's what I thought.” Clair reached out and clasped his hand, lacing her fingers with his. “Come on. No more lagging. Time to run.”

“I don't think I can.” He'd never run with a hard-on before. It didn't seem all that comfortable.

“You can,” Clair assured him, “or you'll be heading home alone, because I'm not walking. I'm tired and I want to get to bed.”

“So you can
fantasize,
” Harris accused. Possibly about him. The way her hand tightened shored up that belief.

“Maybe.”

He did not need to hear this. She dragged him along, never once releasing her hold on him, and in a few minutes, they were jogging again. At the pace she set, it didn't take them long before they were on their own street. This close to the burned building, the lingering scent of smoke still hung in the air. It reminded Harris of his reaction when he'd feared Clair might be involved in the fire. His reaction had been extreme, and that was before she'd been flirting with him.

He also thought of the shoebox he'd found, and the tantalizing prospects it had presented. Harris was strangely aware of the photo in his back pocket, and Clair's hand in his.

Two women, both of them making him nuts.

What the hell was a guy supposed to do?

 

C
LAIR STOPPED
in front of her steps. So far, Harris seemed more than a little interested in sex, but she wanted more than that. She wanted him to want her, in and out of bed. She felt manipulative, teasing him and then pulling back. Making comments that she knew would get him thinking about sex. But she didn't know what else to do.

And already it was working with Harris. He wanted her now—but he still wanted her alter ego, the Naked Lady, too. Somehow, she had to get him to give up the fantasy prompted by those stupid photos.

Feeling awkward, Clair said, “It's early yet.”

A light sheen of sweat dampened Harris's bare shoulders and chest. He had his hands on his hips, breathing deeply, watching her. “You pulled our run short.”

Clair shrugged, adjusted her glasses nervously. “Want to come up?”

His gaze sharpened. Like a blue laser, his gaze pinned her in place. Slowly his hands dropped from his hips and he took a step closer. “Are you playing with me again?”

Man, he was still primed, ready to jump the gun—apparently ready to jump her. “I've had you up to my place a dozen times, Harris. For drinks, a snack.”

His hands came to settle on her waist. “For more?”

Despite her urge to say
yes,
Clair laughed. “We're both sweaty and you have to be up early.”

“I'm never too tired for—”

“Will you send me in alone if I say I just want to talk?”

For a brief moment, his hands tightened, then the heat left his eyes and he released her with a sigh. “What the hell. I always enjoy talking to you.” His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. “Lead the way.”

Her apartment was dark when they first went in. Clair turned on lamps as she headed to the kitchen. “You want something to eat or drink?”

“Just some water.” He trailed behind her, far too close, in Clair's opinion.

She filled two glasses with ice, then got the spring water from the fridge. “So tell me what the attraction is.”

“To you?”

He looked perplexed enough that Clair wanted to hit him. “No, not to me. Far as I know, you're
not
attracted to me.”

He cocked one brow, then looked pointedly at her body. “I'd be more than happy to prove you wrong on that.”

Clair groaned. “So then why do you want the woman in the photos so bad? She gets naked and that makes you so interested you can't let it go?

He immediately shook his head. “She does look hot, no way around that. I mean, any woman who's comfortable being naked is okay in my book.”

“Really?”

He grinned. “Hell yeah. If it was up to me, all women would stay naked. At least when we were alone together.”

That had Clair blushing a bit, especially as Harris let his gaze roam over her, no doubt imagining her in such a state. Not that he had to imagine, if he only realized….

“But the woman in the photo also said some nice things in her notes.”

“So?”

Harris rubbed the back of his neck and paced away. He had a gorgeous back, strong and broad, sleek and hard with muscle. His shorts rode low on his hips, hugging a narrow behind and strong thighs. “This is kind of embarrassing.”

She knew all about embarrassing. “Why? We're friends.”

He nodded, turned to face her. “She said I'm generous.” Harris looked uncomfortable. “And funny and heroic.”

Men could be such dolts. “Well, of course she did. Because you
are.
” Clair handed him his water. “You're one of the greatest guys I know.”

The water never made it to his mouth. “You think so?”

“Absolutely.”

“But I didn't know….”

“Harris,” she said with aggrieved sigh. “Do you think I'd hang out with a guy who was an idiot?”

His mouth tipped in a crooked grin. “You call me an idiot all the time.”

Too true. It had always been her way of making sure she kept her feelings to herself. A self-protection mechanism of sorts that reminded her she wasn't to get too romantic with Harris.

Clair moved back to the living room and dropped onto her overstuffed, oversize couch. She stretched out her legs, caught Harris staring at them, and smiled. “Yeah, well, I insult you with affection. I don't mean it.” She sent him a quick grin, just to keep her comments from getting too dramatic. “If I didn't like, respect and admire you, I wouldn't want your company.”

His brows came down, his expression arrested. Clair stared at him over her glasses. “Now what's wrong?”

With a small shake of his head, Harris muttered, “I need to think. You've sort of thrown a bunch of stuff at me all at once.”

“Thinking is good.” Clair waited while he, too, plopped onto the sofa. Because of their conversation, sitting so close to him felt different this time. “You should decide what you'll do once you find this woman. I mean, have you considered that?”

He propped his big feet on her coffee table and let his head fall back. “At least a hundred times.”

Clair stared at his abdomen. It, too, was hard, lean and ridged with muscle. A dark, silky line of hair led from his navel to beneath the waistband of his shorts.

She held herself in check, when what she wanted to do was attack him again. “So,” she said, sounding a little strained, “what if she's a witch? What if she has an ogre's personality? She could be like a fatal attraction or something. A nut. A slasher even.”

Harris rolled his head toward her. “You made your point early on, hon. Now you're just stretching it.”

Clair shrugged. “But the point is valid.”

“Maybe.” Harris stared at her, surveying her face as if trying to read her thoughts. “She didn't sound like a slasher in her notes. She sounded like a nice lady.”

Here we go again. “You don't
want
a nice lady, Harris, remember? You want someone who's out for kicks. Nice women tend to get serious thoughts when they're having sex with a guy.”