Take a Chance on Me (117 page)

"I paid your consulting fee, Emma. I couldn't get it authorized, so I used my own money."

"What?" She fell against the Montero as if he'd pushed her.

"If I hadn't, you wouldn't have had any reason to spend time with me. I misled you and I'm sorry. It wasn't right."

Emma couldn't get enough oxygen to her brain. She was still buzzing from that very strange and very extraordinary public orgasm—and he'd lied to her. Again! She'd performed beer-bottle fellatio for a man who could not tell the truth!

The next thing she knew, she was driving away, alone, glad that they'd taken separate cars. Within minutes, she pulled into a 7-Eleven parking lot, cut the engine, and sat there in the dark.

The first two words out of her mouth came in a hoarse whisper.

"Oh," she said.

"My," she said.

Then she took a huge breath, and let it out.

"Gaaaawd!"

Then she cried.

In his Audi, Thomas's hands shook even though he gripped the leather steering wheel with all his might.

He clicked on a Thelonious Monk CD and tried to calm himself.

He clicked it off immediately and stared at the road ahead in silence.

I am in one very large, big-time, bad-ass, hell of a mess.

He drove faster.

I'm completely in love with Emma Jenkins and she hates me.

He drove faster still.

What a bad time to tell her the truth.

He looked at his watch.

And now I have to go to work.

« ^ »

E mma knew that Thomas had been out all night for work and, with any luck, would still be asleep. She tucked Hairy under her arm, inserted the key into his townhouse door, and quietly stepped inside.

Emma intended to put Hairy in his crate and leave. She didn't want to see Thomas. In addition to being ashamed about her public out-of-body experience last night, she was thoroughly pissed off.

Because he'd lied to her. Because as much as she wanted to pay him back every dime he'd given her, it was already gone. The money now belonged to Baltimore Gas & Electric, Allstate Insurance, Charm City Mortgage, and American Veterinary Supply, and she'd have to borrow yet more cash from Beckett to repay Thomas. What a mess.

Emma entered the room and let her eyes adjust. It was dim except for a narrow sliver of light that shot through a gap in the drapes. The low hum of music wrapped around her, and she recognized the sultry groan of Tom Waits—a piano man whose music should be banned everywhere but in seedy bars in the middle of the night, for the listening enjoyment of only the most severely drunk and depressed patrons.

It certainly wasn't suited to a sunny Saturday morning like this one.

Emma cocked her head and listened closely, now hearing more than just raspy lyrics and the tinkling of piano keys. She also heard the saw of deep breathing. Hairy squirmed out of Emma's arms and ran toward the couch—and her gaze followed.

She could just make out what lay on that couch, all stretched out and almost naked. Thomas's face was turned away toward the cushions, one burly arm bent across his bare chest, the fist closed in sleep. The other hand lay open, palm up, along the top of his right thigh.

He wore nothing but a thin pair of athletic shorts that looked gray in the muted light, the drawstring tied loose and low on narrow hips, his long legs stretched across the cushions.

Even in the poor light, Emma saw that he was golden, sculpted, perfect—the most exquisite male animal she'd ever laid eyes on. Too bad she'd never trust him again.

Then she wondered how many seconds it would take her to strip naked and start rubbing her flesh all over his.

"No, Hairy!" she hissed. "Damn!" She wasn't fast enough. Hairy hopped right on top of Thomas. The dog nosed his arm until it flopped over the edge of the couch, and began circling to find the sweet spot on his chest. Emma held her breath, expecting to see the poor thing hurled through the air.

Then she smiled—this ritual was nothing new to Thomas, apparently. He acknowledged the dog's presence with a clumsy pat to the head and a garbled greeting of "Hey, pal." Still asleep, he adjusted his body and turned his face toward Emma.

She stood completely still, unable to move even if she'd wanted to. She simply watched the dog ride the rise and fall of Thomas's chest as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

She was crying? What a lame-o thing to do, as Leelee would say. She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, amazed and horrified by the tight sensation in her chest, the trembling in her limbs.

She didn't want to feel anything for him! He'd misled her, even if his motive was a nice one. A real nice one. Oh, hell—the man had paid eight thousand dollars just to have her near him!

Emma watched him sleep, trying to hate him and failing, seeing only how sweet he looked, how sexy—

how lovable. Thomas Tobin, the surly, sneaky, undercover hit man, was so lovable.

Hairy had just nibbled his master's jawline, little flea-bites that made Thomas chuckle in his sleep and wave his hand to shoo away the dog. Hairy persevered, nipping a cheek and then an upper lip until Thomas began to groan and mumble.

Emma leaned closer and tried not to laugh. It seemed that a real friendship had blossomed between this man and this dog, and she was feeling quite proud of her role in the transformation when Thomas whispered something, and she tensed. Had she heard correctly? Had he just said her name?

Emma was studying Thomas's moving lips when a devilish smile spread over his face and he moaned,

"Oh, yeah, Emma. Put your mouth on me."

Her hand flew up to stifle a gasp. Hairy skittered down Thomas's body as if to get out of the way, and Emma watched the dog jump down, race across the room, and curl up in a ball in the recliner.

Thomas mumbled something else and Emma turned back—to find that his eyes were halfway open and he was gazing at her behind heavy lids. Before she could escape, he grabbed her, crushed her against the front of his body, gripped the back of her head, and forced her mouth down onto his.

The top of Emma's skull nearly blew off. His lips were hot and impatient, and he was mumbling to her even as his tongue entered her mouth, flicked inside her. His other hand clamped down on her butt, grinding her crotch against his, and there was no escaping the man's outstanding attributes.

"Oh, yeah," he groaned against her lips. He dragged his hands to the back of her thighs and pulled until she was spread wide across him. "Ride me, Emma."

A strangled cry flew from her throat as she tried to end the crush of his embrace, the attack of his mouth, the spreading of her legs. She got a hand loose enough to smack his cheek.

Thomas went completely still beneath her. He released his death hold on her body, relaxed the lip-lock.

And Emma pushed herself up from his chest, panting.

"Jesus!" Thomas sprang to life, throwing her off balance and sending her backward to the end of the couch, where she landed with a thud on his insteps. "Ow!" he screamed.

When he yanked his feet out from under her, Emma's rump hit the sofa arm.

"What the hell—" Thomas was fumbling behind his head for the lamp and Emma shielded her eyes from the abrupt glare.

She listened to him mumble swear words for a moment or two, then peeked out from between her fingers.

Thomas's short curls were crushed to the side of his head. He was unshaven. His eyes were wild and rimmed with red.

And he was tugging on the drawstring of his shorts, now tented with the Big Daddy of all erections. She let her hands fall from her face so that she could ogle.

Then their eyes met. Thomas blinked at her several times and opened his mouth to speak. "I'm not sure what—"

Emma cut him off. "You!" she screamed, pointing like she was identifying a pickpocket on the street.

"You lied to me again!"

"I did. A huge mistake."

She glared at him, catching her breath. "You will never lie to me again, Thomas."

"That's absolutely true."

"And what about … well … the other thing you did to me last night?" She crossed her arms under her breasts with a loud harrumph.

He blinked some more.

"Would you mind telling me how I had an actual… " Emma stopped and shot a glance toward Hairy—

who was watching them intently. She continued in a whisper. "Look, Thomas. I had an orgasm on a picnic bench last night, surrounded by crab parts, without you even touching me. Would you please explain how that happened?"

Thomas waited a beat, not sure if she was through with her question, or even if it was a question, or if it might possibly be a redundant one. She seemed to want an answer, but he had no idea what to say—he was still half-asleep. Besides, all the blood that used to be in his brain was now in his shorts.

"I'm…"—he fumbled for the correct words—"… sorry about that, too?"

She snorted and tossed her loose hair from her shoulder. "I'm so angry with you!" Emma was desperately trying to keep her emotions in control, but there were too many to get a handle on—hurt, surprise, lust, and fear were right up there at the top of the list. "You're making me crazy," she said with a shaky voice.