Yours in Black Lace (5 page)

In the mirror, his eyes widened at the contact and for an instant she saw his desire. He shifted back on his heels and jammed his fists into his pockets. A residual sheen of lust still clouded his gaze, but his tone was decisive. “You still work for me, Stevie.”

“Okay. I quit.”

“Resignation duly noted,” he said wryly. “But the policy is in place for a reason. Sleeping with someone who works for you impairs your judgment.”

“So who said anything about sleep?”

His nostrils flared and she saw his pupils dilate. She was standing close enough to hear the quick intake of breath before he shook his head. “Even if I accepted your resignation, which I don’t, that doesn’t solve anything. You asked me to take you on as a new client. The same policy applies.”

“Not a problem. You’re fired.”

He crossed his arms and straightened to his full height. “Nice try, Stevie, but you can’t fire me. We never actually contracted the job so—”

“So I’m not really a client and you have no more excuses.” She batted her eyelashes and grinned at him.

A myriad of reactions hurtled across his face, too swiftly for her to interpret any of them, but she could tell he was vacillating. Stevie turned, heading toward the opposite end of the passageway, noting a full bath and an office as she walked by. The last door opened onto a master-bedroom suite. A large side window looked out at the lanai and a set of French doors opened onto a brick-walled patio with a hot tub in the center.

Then she focused on the room and realized there was only a king-size four-poster with an elaborately carved mahogany headboard, no other furniture. Hoo yah. The “cottage” had only one real bedroom. And only one bed.

Though the carpeting muffled his steps, she knew instantly that Emelio had walked up behind her. The air was suddenly charged with a restless energy, and the faint citrus and spice of his cologne drifted to her senses.

Gazing at the paintings on the walls, large abstract images of brightly swirling colors, she wondered why Emelio kept this other, boldly sensual part of his personality hidden. Obviously his art was his emotional outlet, the only way he could really express himself.

Well, she’d just have to show him another method….

And then he was lost.

He reached for her, tracing his tongue over the fullness of her broad lower lip. She opened to him, deepening the kiss. Emelio slanted his mouth over hers, drinking in her sweetness as she wound her arms tighter about his neck. The taste of her was like liquid fire in his veins. Until he heard the sound.

Either Stevie’s stomach was growling again or a late-season hurricane was rumbling toward the coast.

Some of the sexual tension eased, but a current still crackled between them. He gently stroked her upper arm, oddly grateful that her protesting belly had broken the mood. Whether or not to sleep…have sex with Stevie was a decision he couldn’t make lightly, but lust was overshadowing logic. Despite the reasons and protests he’d just offered, he was tempted, very tempted.

They stood facing each other, both intently aware that the bed was only a few steps away. Pulse thudding, his resolve wavered dangerously as he met her aggressive look. She was so beautiful, so sure of herself, and he definitely wanted—

Her belly rumbled again. She laughed, ducking her chin, and pressed one hand against her abdomen. “I told you I was starving.”

“Guess I’d better start cooking, then. Those tuna steaks won’t take long, so dinner should be ready in about twenty-five minutes.”

“Thanks. If you don’t mind, I’d like to freshen up. I feel all…hot and sticky.”

She smiled innocently at him, but the invitation in her eyes was as bad as could be. Difficult as it was, he ignored the bait. It wasn’t her stomach’s moans he wanted to hear when he finally took her to bed.

“I’ll get your bag so you can change.”

Not until he stepped out the front door, achingly conscious of the erection pressing against his zipper, did Emelio realize his choice had already been made. Just now, he’d thought “when,” not “if,” he should take Stevie to bed.

He paused in the courtyard, his distracted gaze turned inward. His primary mission was to guard Stevie against Braga. He was supposed to consider her both an employee and a client. The trouble was, right now, he could only think of her as a beautiful and enticing siren.

Emelio opened the door to the Jeep and saw black-lace letter number nine still resting on the console between the front seats. Hell, who was he kidding? The decision to get involved with her had been made, at least subconsciously, when he found out she was his secret seductress.

Her provocative words had occupied both his dreams and waking thoughts for months. A sharp pang of pure lust gripped him as he added Stevie’s face and body to the erotic scenes in his head…. He grabbed the letter, pulled her travel bag and his gun case out of the cargo area and headed back to the house.

After dropping his Ruger Mark II in the office, he strode down the hall to give Stevie her clothes. He’d just remembered there were no clean towels in the master bath. On his way to the bedroom, he grabbed some from the linen closet. Hopefully, he could catch her before—

Her sandals had been kicked off near the bed. Her sweater was in a puddle on the carpet, a lace bra and her blue-and-white skirt nearby. And her panties, her black-lace thong panties, lay just outside the bathroom door.

Emelio set the suitcase by the walk-in closet while he debated what to do with the towels tucked under his arm. Bound by the cardinal rules of sharing a house with three sisters, he rapped lightly on the door before turning the knob. He’d just drop the towels on the chair for her.

He started to speak but the words caught in his throat. Late-afternoon sun glimmered softly through the window behind the shower, highlighting Stevie’s profile against the frosted-glass door. He could only stare, his eyes burning from the effort to focus her body into more than a long silhouette of tantalizing curves.

The words from black-lace letter number three came back to taunt him.

Then she felt it, the slightest hint of cool air brushing her skin. Subtly tilting her head, Stevie opened her eyes, squinting through the steamy frosted glass until she could just make out a shadowy figure in the doorway. Listening intently, she tried to make out the click of the door closing back into place—or better yet the thump of denim jeans hitting the floor. But she only heard the water splashing against the glass blocks.

How long had Emelio been standing there? Her heart stuttered as a combination of embarrassment and mischief zinged through her veins. The third note she’d written to him involved the idea of him watching her. A wild and wicked impulse overcame her, urging her to bring that fantasy to life.

She reached for the massaging showerhead at the top of the pole, pulling it down by the metal coil. Positioning herself directly in front of the opaque glass window so the golden-orange sunshine backlit her body, she turned the dial from gentle throb to jet propulsion.

Holding the sprayer in one hand, she slid the other over her chest to cup her right breast, then played the hot pulsating water across it. A gasp escaped her throat when she directed the stream to drum against the sensitive peak, causing a tugging contraction deep in her belly.

From beneath half-closed lids, she made sure that Emelio was still watching from the doorway. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought she’d heard his footsteps edging closer. Bracing her back on the wall, her head resting against the window, Stevie slowly lowered the sprayer. As silky hot water hammered her body, the ripple and clutch of sexual need almost brought her to her knees.

Her uninhibited moan echoed through the shower stall when the wet heat blasted the core of her need. The insistent throb became a delicious ache and she felt her belly quiver and tighten as the climax built inside her.

The pleasure was too intense, too fast, and she came instantly. The ragged sound of her breathing filled the room as the rush of satisfaction slowly ebbed. Moments later, she replaced the showerhead on its hook and returned the dial to the fine mist setting while her heart rate returned to normal.

A loud knock startled her and she swung her head toward the bathroom door. Why was he knocking? She hadn’t imagined the shadow in the doorway. “Yes?”

Emelio cleared his throat, then said, “Clean towels,” in a voice as husky as her own. Holding back a laugh, Stevie wondered if he was smiling yet.

When she brushed a damp tendril of hair off her cheek, he thought about her shower. Watching Stevie indulge herself was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. And hearing her breathy little gasps had increased the heavy, aching pressure in his groin to the point of discomfort. He’d never wanted a woman so badly in his life.

A teasing light shone in Stevie’s azure eyes as she looked over at him. “The faster, the better. But I didn’t think you liked it that way.”

“I do prefer to take my time, but I knew you were hungry so I rushed.”

She looked beautiful in the red-gold colors of twilight streaming through the window. Her bare skin was still flushed with heat, and she seemed relaxed for the first time all day, as if her usual energetic intensity had been ratcheted down a few notches. She proved him right by yawning.

“Sorry. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

She looked ready for bed, dressed in a faded pink T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants that flared over her bare feet. Despite the casual attire, she was incredibly sexy and it required superhuman effort to keep from staring at her breasts. Her perfect, round, bouncy, not-wearing-a-bra…

Emelio nodded toward the food-laden plates set on the dining table. “Go ahead and take a seat.”

“Everything looks wonderful. What is it?” Her chair scraped lightly over the ceramic-tile floor as she pulled it aside.

He called out his reply from the kitchen while choosing a bottle from the wine cooler next to the refrigerator. “Ahi tuna in a blood-orange teriyaki sauce, long-grain and wild rice with mushrooms and a field-greens salad with blue cheese and winter pears.”

“Mmm, yummy. You know, unless you count frozen pizza, I’ve never had a guy cook for me before.”

Emelio walked back into the dining room with the wine in one hand and two goblets balanced in the other. “Well, there’s a first time for—”

The smile melted from Stevie’s lips, the vivid color fading from her cheeks. Her gaze narrowed, focused on the wine bottle like a laser. The expression on her face was one he imagined a drowning man wore when he spotted a life vest.

“I can get us something else, Stevie.” Her features had returned to normal, but her eyes hadn’t left the wine.

“You don’t have to. I mean, don’t let me keep you from enjoying it. Domaine D’Or pouilly-fumé, right? They make an excellent sauvignon blanc, also.” A strained silence followed while she ducked her head and concentrated on her meal.

“How long have you been sober?”

She didn’t answer straightaway. “It never became that much of a problem. I just used to have a couple glasses of wine at night…. I don’t drink anymore.” She tried to keep her tone light, hoping he heard the pride and not the regret.

“I’ll be right back.” He pivoted and headed for the kitchen. He returned a moment later with two glasses of sparkling water and took the seat to her left at the table. “Here you go.”

“You’re learning all of my secrets today, aren’t you?”

A sip of water did little to wash the taste of failure from her mouth. Stevie clenched one hand into a tight fist in her lap and finally raised her eyes to meet his. If she focused on his face, maybe the image of that chilled, straw-yellow bottle would disappear and take the fierce longing for a taste, just one little sip, away with it. His enigmatic gaze was, as always, nonjudgmental.

“After Overtown, Alex had to come and pull me out of a couple bars when I knew better than to drive home.”

She nodded her head, acknowledging what he’d said as well as the message behind his words. It was that understanding that allowed her to explain. “Everyone kept telling me how lucky I was, what a great life I had. So when Tom would fly into a rage, it must have been my fault somehow, right?”

She forced a bite of fish between cold lips, still haunted by the wine’s false comfort. The weight of remembered emotion dropped onto her shoulders, adding to her fatigue.

“I was so alone, you know? So scared and depressed. One drink led to a second and a third… For a while I thought it was an escape. But actually it was a crutch, and something else for Tom to use against me.”

Emelio had given up all pretense of eating. He draped one arm over the back of his chair and just listened. “What finally gave you the courage to walk away?”

“He started hitting me. He was careful to hit me where no one could see, where the bruises wouldn’t show in public. Then I ‘fell’ and ended up in the hospital.” Stevie dropped her gaze with a bitter twist of her mouth.

“I was lucky that Dr. Weitzman had some experience dealing with what she called Painful Privilege. Apparently there are a lot of successful, well-educated women who are battered by their powerful, high-profile husbands. With Dr. Weitzman’s help and some therapy, I filed for divorce.”

“I can’t imagine how…difficult…that must have been for you.” Again, Emelio seemed to look beneath the surface and understand what she didn’t say.

Difficult didn’t begin to describe the final months of her marriage. She touched a finger to the bridge of her nose, a permanent reminder of Tom’s reaction to the divorce papers.

With therapy, she’d learned to look to the future instead of dwelling on the past. She’d gotten a onetime settlement instead of alimony just to make sure all ties to New Orleans were broken. Thinking about better times, she did her best to lighten the mood. Frankly, she’d had enough of memory lane for one day.

“It was worth it. I got my life back. And, believe me, I really lived it up for a while. Kind of acted like a kid who’s been grounded for a couple months.”

“Oh, yeah. How?” Reading her mood, Emelio picked up his fork and speared a mouthful of his salad.

Stevie laughed and shook her head. “The story of my wild and rebellious postmarital days is staying a secret.”

“I’ll tell you about my wild days if you tell about yours.”

“Please. A little earring isn’t what I would consider outrageous.” With renewed appetite, she plowed into the fish and rice on her plate.

He touched a finger to the sapphire stud in his left ear. “I’d just been assigned to the Special Operations Division. Alex had worked undercover before and he figured I needed something to make me look streetwise. It was either this or get a tattoo.”

“I have a tattoo.”

His dark eyebrows lifted and his expression was one of fascinated disbelief. “What is it?
Where
is it?”

“I’ve got a purple-and-black butterfly.” A spark of mischief ignited inside her and she let a slow, inviting smile spread across her face. “But you’ll have to find it yourself.”

“It might require a very thorough search.”

The melodic timbre of his voice turned his statement into a promise and sent her pulse into overdrive. Sensual awareness leaped between them as Emelio let his eyes travel slowly over her body, as if the intense heat of his gaze would burn away her clothing and reveal the tattoo.

“Now are you flirting with me, Emelio?”

“Yes. I am.”

Stevie’s eyebrows arched in surprise. Well, hot damn. Or maybe it was that hot shower. “What made you change your mind?”

He shrugged one broad shoulder, as if making light of the situation, but the intensity of his expression gave him away. “Your black-lace letters. A man can only take so much teasing, and, lady, you’ve been tempting me for too long.”

“But?”

One corner of his mouth curved slightly, as if he was amused by how easily she’d read him. Then the teasing light faded from his eyes. “But first we need to talk.”

Stevie groaned and dropped her chin. “Don’t get all serious on me. We’ve had enough depressing discussions for one day.”

Emelio reached over to take her hand. “I have to consider what happens when we get back to Miami, how our employment relationship is going to be affected.”

She leaned forward, pleased when his eyes glanced down at her cleavage. “I thought we settled the issue when I fired you.”

“This is important, Stevie. You work for me and, at the moment, I’m protecting you. We don’t know what Braga wants from you or how long we’re going to be here.”

He hesitated, as though weighing his next words. “Typically, in circumstances like this, undercover assignments or witness protection or whatever, time seems compressed, emotions run high. When you’re on a case, you’ve got to constantly remember it’s not real life.”

“How romantic.” Stevie pulled her hand away and sat back in her chair. It seemed he was ending things before they’d even started, and she didn’t like feeling the tiny stab of rejection.

Emelio kept his tone professionally remote, but blatant desire lit his hazel eyes. “Romance has nothing to do with it—it’s about two people giving in to irresistible possibility.”

“Gee, Emelio, try not to be so excited.”

He reached for her again, his expression earnest, and the heat of his skin penetrated her hand. “Believe me, I am turned on. I want to fulfill your fantasies, and maybe create some new ones with you.”

Wisps of heat raced along her nerves and desire tickled its way down her body. He was saying the words she’d longed to hear, but she saw the residual uncertainty all too clearly on his face. Something twisted inside her at the thought of their relationship going no further than the physical.

“So, what’s the problem?”

“All I’m saying is, with forced proximity, relationships that normally take months to develop can happen in a matter of hours. I don’t want to make the mistake— Neither of us should be rushing into anything beyond an exploration of desire.”

She’d had the hots for him practically from the moment they’d met, so she didn’t exactly think of it as rushing. But obviously, for a guy who was juggling three other women, getting romantically involved with her was a real dilemma.

Even knowing she shouldn’t fall for another charismatic, take-charge male, Stevie was more than willing to explore this powerful attraction then take it to the next level. But it would scare him off if she voiced her feelings now. So outwardly she gave a little shrug and smiled, falling back on the nonchalant cadence of her native Louisiana.

“Sure thing, chér. We’ll pass a good time then see what happens.”

“I knew you’d understand.”

He relaxed visibly and gently tugged her hand until she came over to sit on his lap. The proof of his desire was hard beneath her thigh. There was no doubt that he wanted her, but for how long? Stevie slid one arm behind his neck and smiled.

“Did you enjoy the latest note I sent you?”

“I haven’t opened it yet.”

She arched one eyebrow in surprise. “Really? Why not?”

His gaze was magnetic, drawing her in with its seductive promise. “Anticipation is the second-best part of seduction.”

“Yeah, but why settle for second best?” She tilted her head to one side, flirting with him from beneath her lashes. “Don’t you even want a hint about the letter?”

“Nope. When the time comes, I want you to read it to me. Naked.”

Stevie felt heat rushing under her skin. The great thing about the notes had been the anonymity, the freedom to say whatever she wanted without having to gauge his reaction. She wasn’t sure she could read the highly personal words aloud.

His left hand cupped the side of her face, drawing her closer. Stevie’s eyes drifted shut when their breath mingled the second before he claimed her. His parted lips were moist and firm as his mouth slanted over hers in a kiss that was both a slow exploration and a tantalizing challenge.

She followed the pace he set as she traced the contours of his mouth with her tongue. Then she sensed the hunger building inside him and released the reins on her own passion, eagerly ravishing his mouth as desire sang through her veins. Her heart raced and her body fairly vibrated with pent-up desire.

He gently stroked her cheeks with smooth, circular motions as he pulled back to look into her eyes. The invitation in his heated gaze was obvious, the silence ripe with expectancy. Then the musical notes of his cell phone broke the spell. His eyes darkened in annoyance but he kept his tone light.

“I’m sorry. That might be Alex.”

She suppressed a sigh and tried to ignore the damp heat between her thighs as she hopped off of his lap. It had better be Alex, and not one of those
cariñas.
Whoever it was, they had lousy timing.

“As soon as I’m done, we can go into the other room and watch a movie…or something.”

“I’ll take the ‘or something.’”

Emelio bent down to steal another quick kiss before retrieving his phone from the kitchen counter. “Sanchez.”

“Hey, buddy. It’s Jack Weston.”

The hearty voice booming through the receiver made him wince. Maybe if he cut to the chase, the Assistant State’s Attorney wouldn’t talk his ear off for a change. “Jack. How’s the Ramos trial going?”

No such luck. Weston began to relay the minute details of the court proceedings. The guy had goddamn lousy timing. Emelio stalked across the hallway to the office. He rocked back in his chair and stared out the window until he finally just interrupted.

“What can I do for you, Jack?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. We might have to recall you to the stand.”