Kitabı oku: «The Law And Lady Justice», sayfa 3

They had another thing in common.

His stomach flopped over when she shook her hair out and the length dropped past her shoulders. “You ought to wear it like that more often,” he said, spellbound.

“I’m afraid that would make me look more woman than judge.”

“Is that so bad?” He couldn’t take his eyes off her face.

“I’m afraid you’re prejudiced, Detective McGuire.”

Detective McGuire. A few minutes ago, he’d been Doug and she’d been Jess. Come midnight, the ball had ended and Cinderella turned back into a felony judge of the Milwaukee County Circuit Court.

Except for that hair—that gorgeous long hair hanging past her shoulders.

After unlocking her car, she turned back with a smile. “Thank you, Detective Doug. I must admit I had a good time.” She stepped closer and kissed him on the cheek.

“Yeah, right,” he said, with a twisted smile. There was no way he was going to settle for a peck on the cheek like the old codger. She must have guessed his intent, and she stepped back abruptly, but not in time to avoid his arm that snagged her waist and pulled her against him. He swallowed her gasp as their mouths found a fit. Her lips were soft but tasted delicious—and he began to gorge on them, and on the smell of her…the feel of her in his arms. For the briefest of seconds she stiffened to resist, then she settled into the kiss, and slipped her arms around his neck. Her auburn hair drew his hand like a magnet, and he dug his fingers into the thickness. It felt like sliding between silk sheets.

They both gave as much as they took—jockeying for dominance—challenging, dueling and savoring, until they broke apart breathless. She looked him straight in the eye, her chest heaving, and her eyes twin pools of seduction beckoning him to jump in. His loins were on fire, and he was so hard he couldn’t move. Even his hands itched so badly to touch her that he had to clench them into fists. He wanted a lot more than a kiss, and wondered what she’d say if he suggested going home with her. Then he thought the better of it—she wasn’t the kind that hopped into the sack with a guy after one kiss. And one kiss was all he dared—another one, and he’d be pulling her into the back seat of the car. The sooner he put cold metal between them, the better. So he opened her car door and stepped aside for her to enter.

Her fingers trembled when she inserted the key into the ignition. He hoped the Park Avenue wouldn’t start—a sign that they’d stay together and let nature take its course—but the damn engine turned over and purred.

She smiled up at him and for several seconds his gaze held hers as curiosity darkened her brown eyes.

Say it, McGuire! Even if you choke on it, get it out now before you have any more time to think about it. “Good night, Judge Jess.” He slammed the car door.

As she drove away, he stood and watched until the tail-lights disappeared around the corner. Then he headed back to the precinct.

His lips were hard, urgent, against hers. How could he make her insane for more with just the touch of his mouth? Then he touched her with those big, hard hands, and her body came alive as it had never been alive before. She wanted to touch him, too, but for some reason she couldn’t reach him. She moaned his name and opened her eyes.

“Doug?”

The word echoed in an empty room. Moonlight silvered the Belgian lace curtains that shrouded her windows. Jessica lay alone in her bed, sheets tangled about her legs, hot despite the coolness of the night. She rolled onto her side and looked at the clock—3:30. Gee, a whole hour later than she’d awoken after the last erotic dream of—

“McGuire,” she muttered.

Why on earth had she let the man kiss her? Now she couldn’t stop thinking about their first embrace.

If they hadn’t been in full view of everyone on the street, she’d probably have yanked his clothes off right there. Heck, why not be honest? She hadn’t been thinking about the public eye, or anything else while he kissed her. Her dreams proved that. All she’d wanted then—all she wanted now—was all of Doug McGuire.

Liz’s words of that afternoon came back to her. Was her dissatisfaction with her life a result of too much work and too little sex? Would a torrid affair with the delectable detective make everything better? She would certainly sleep better tonight if she wasn’t sleeping alone.

By the time the sun peeked over Lake Michigan, Jessica had given up trying to sleep. She took her coffee onto her terrace and had a stern little talk with herself.

You’re an adult. He’s an adult—or so he professes—though you wouldn’t know it from his behavior. Her words sounded peevish, even to herself, but she was so tired. Her skin felt twitchy, as if it didn’t belong on her body. A scalding hot shower had done nothing to relieve the feeling. Too much coffee, too early in the morning was making her head buzz.

I want him, and from that kiss last night I’d say he wants me. What could be simpler? That sounded better. Definitely more mature. If she could manage to sound like that when talking with McGuire there would be no problem. Of course talking wasn’t the problem—wanting to put her hands all over him was the problem.

Jessica dumped the last of her coffee into the sink and glanced at her watch. Just enough time to stop at the police station on her way to the courthouse and have a heart-to-heart with Detective McGuire.

Though her reception at the front desk was far from welcoming, Jessica had little trouble being directed to her quarry. She walked through the station, head held high despite the stares and whispers. She had not gone into the law to be popular—she’d gone into it to make a difference. Although on some days—like yesterday—she thought she was losing the battle, but most days she figured she’d win her part of the war.

The desk sergeant had directed her to the lower level, third door on the right. Taking a deep breath in the hallway, she steeled herself against her usual libidinous reaction to McGuire. She was here to… Jessica dropped her hand from the door. To what? Offer herself on a platter? She gritted her teeth. With McGuire it wouldn’t do to seem so eager. He was a competitive man. She was a competitive woman. He wanted her, but she didn’t think he liked her very much. So then, why had he kissed her that way? There had been more than desire in that kiss—and she wanted to know why.

Jessica shoved open Door Number Three and nearly swallowed her tongue at the unexpected sight that greeted her.

McGuire, wearing baggy gray sweatpants and nothing else. She’d have thought he had a good butt, she hadn’t gotten a look at his chest. She stood in the doorway and watched the man work.

He was doing bicep curls if she remembered correctly from the single time she’d allowed herself to be tortured in a weight room. The muscles in his upper arms flexed and released, rippling beneath bronzed, smooth skin. Her gaze traveled over the light dusting of hair covering equally defined pectoral muscles and a flat, ridged stomach. The sweatpants rode low on his hips, a drawstring hanging down the front, enticing her gaze to the easily distinguishable bulge despite the looseness of his clothing.

“See anything you like, Your Honor?”

She swallowed and met his eyes. Amusement filled his gaze and she flushed, mortified to be caught ogling him as if she wanted to slip a dollar bill beneath his waistband.

Realizing she stood in an open doorway, Jessica shut the door and leaned back for support. McGuire turned around to replace the free weights in their stand, giving her an excellent view of the backside she liked so much, with the added bonus of naked and rippling shoulder muscles. Her skin began to hum again, and her palms itched to touch that back.

She wished for a moment she hadn’t worn her suit jacket. They kept this place far too hot for a workout room. Sweat prickled her brow.

McGuire turned and began to walk toward her with the loose-limbed, confident grace that was so much a part of him. Suddenly the door at her back no longer supported but confined her. He stopped—too close—invading her space as he always did.

She could smell him, and amazingly the scent excited her: heat, and salt—and man. Mesmerized, she watched a drop of sweat slide down his neck, and she imagined how it would feel to catch the droplet on her tongue, put her lips to that chest and learn the ridges and valleys of his body with her mouth.

“Judge?”

“Hmm?”

“If you’re going to keep looking at me like that, I’m not going to be responsible for what happens.”

She straightened, the ridges of her spine grinding against the door. “Like what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t, huh? Fine, we can play it your way.” For some unknown reason he seemed annoyed with her already. He stalked away, grabbing a water bottle from a nearby bench and taking a long drink.

Jessica lost her train of thought as she watched his throat contract and release. Water ran out of his mouth and down his neck, streaking across glistening muscles. Her head began to buzz, and she put her fingers to her eyes, rubbing against the dry, gritty sensation caused by too little sleep and too much McGuire in the night.

“What brings you to my side of the tracks?”

“Uh, I…ah…” Jessica dropped her hand and pushed away from the door. She could not look at him and think straight. Instead she fiddled with her purse, moving items around as if she were in desperate need of finding some hidden treasure within.

“You must have a good reason for coming to a grimy police station weight room. I can’t recall seeing you on this side of the street before.”

She glanced at him, then quickly away. He was right. She rarely came to a station. Her job was at the courthouse. Though they were on the same side of the law, technically, their jobs and their outlooks couldn’t be further from one another. Had she made a mistake in coming here?

“Listen, Judge, I had a lousy night thanks to you. A cold shower didn’t do me a damn bit of good, but an hour in here was getting my head straight—until you showed up. I’m not in the mood for an argument, so if that’s why you’re here, you can just use those great legs of yours to take that sensational little tail of yours out of here.”

Jessica was too interested in the fact that he’d been up all night and needed to take a cold shower because of her to get insulted over his chauvinistic assessment of her body. She abandoned her purse to look his way, startled to find him too close once again.

Their eyes met, held. Her lips parted and she whispered, “Why did you kiss me last night, Doug?”

His gaze dropped to her mouth and he inched closer. Excitement flooded her as he aligned his body to hers; his thin sweatpants did little to contain his arousal. Her body responded to the evidence of his interest, pressing into him even as he pressed against her. He reached past and flicked the lock on the door, his knuckles brushing her hip as he withdrew. A shudder rumbled over her. Raising his arms, he placed a hand on either side of her head, and leaned closer, looming over her, but his size did not threaten, it soothed her. No one would ever hurt her if he were around.

“Kissing you seemed like a good idea at the time,” he growled. “And you know what?” She shook her head, unable to trust her voice anymore. “It seems like a better idea now.”

His mouth took hers. He tasted of the sea—salt and fury. Was he angry at himself, at her or at what they felt despite the futility? Suddenly the why didn’t matter, she had to kiss him back—to touch his skin or go mad.

Opening her mouth, she met his intensity with all the pent-up desire and need of a lifetime. She splayed her hands on his chest, fingers tangling in the hair, palms smoothing the taut muscles.

He moaned into her mouth, nipped her lip, then his hands were in her hair, yanking the pins free with a desperation that matched her own. The bun she’d so carefully constructed sprang free, and her hair spilled over his hands, over her shoulders. Grasping great handfuls, he tilted her head and plundered her mouth more deeply. This man would never do anything halfway. When he kissed he did so with all of himself.

Her hands flitted over his belly, and the muscles fluttered like butterfly wings against her fingertips. When she ran a finger inside the waistband of his sweatpants, he took a deep, rasping breath, and before she could delve inside he grabbed her hand and pressed her palm to his arousal.

A pounding on the door at her back vibrated through Jessica, causing her to freeze as if ice water had been dumped over them both. McGuire tore his mouth from hers. “Get lost,” he shouted, his voice harsh and loud in the silent room. “I’m busy.”

Whoever it was moved away, grumbling. Doug lowered his forehead to hers. “You make me lose my mind, Jess.”

He let go of her hand, which still cupped him in her palm, and she jerked her fingers away, the loss of his heat and hardness making her ache despite the knowledge she should not be touching him that way.

What had come over her? She had thought their conduct had been irresponsible last night. How was this for crazy?

He raised his head and looked down at her. She didn’t remember touching his hair, but the usually well-combed strands were rumpled, and a wayward lock drifted across his forehead. His mouth was wet from hers, the day’s growth of beard and dark circles beneath his eyes giving him a haunted look she knew too well. The same look had stared back at her from the mirror that morning.

“Let me go,” she whispered.

He frowned but did as she asked. Her hair swirled about her face as she bent to pick up the pins on the floor. He knelt to help and their hands brushed. They both pulled back as if scalded, and Jessica held her breath until he moved away, trying to ignore the intense flare of need his mere touch sent up her arm.

She stood and turned away, then began to repin her hair. Her trembling hands caused the task to take longer than usual. What if someone had come in and seen them? What if someone saw her now? Hair unbound, makeup kissed off her mouth, her jacket askew and her blouse completely untucked.

“So, what are we going to do about this?” he asked.

She took a deep breath and turned. “This?”

His lips tightened and his blue eyes went icy. “You know what I mean, Jess. You annoy the hell out of me.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“I know. Still I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep my hands off you. What are we going to do about that?”

Well, there she had it, an answer to the question that had haunted her all night. He wanted her. She wanted him. What could be simpler?

But she could see that any kind of relationship with McGuire wouldn’t be simple. How could a man like him be anything but complicated? Once she took this step there would be no going back. This man could not be as easily dismissed as Dennis Wolcott. He could never be forgotten. And she had a feeling that someone was going to get hurt. That someone would probably be her.

“Jess?” he pressed.

Fear made her stiffen her spine, pick up the things she’d dropped and walk to the door. She’d been naive enough to believe they could have a casual affair, but now she knew better. She could never keep it casual—and McGuire would want nothing more. “We’re not going to do anything, McGuire. Not ever again.”

She left him behind and went to work.

The descent of the sun finally signaled the end of a very bad day. Jessica watched the sun go to sleep in the west then turned to stare at her living room. The sight only made her feel lonelier than she’d ever felt in her life.

As she had no court appearance scheduled that day, she’d finally relented to Liz’s insistence and gone home early. A nap had taken care of her headache, but the dreams set her more on edge. She could push McGuire out of her mind while she was awake, but when she was asleep he returned to torment her.

So she decided a special “just for Jessica” night was in order. A split of champagne and a romance novel read in a tub full of bubbles. The electric lights were doused, giving way to the swaying flames of every candle in her apartment. After donning her favorite white silk lounging gown and negligee, she feasted on her last box of Godiva chocolates to the soothing sounds of a New Age CD recording of falling water and gentle winds.

She still felt lousy.

She jumped at a sudden pounding on the door. Since her building was secure, unauthorized people could not enter unless cleared and admitted by the doorman. Perhaps her father had gotten her message and come over instead of calling as she’d asked. Jessica hurried over and opened the door.

The sight of Doug McGuire lifted her depression. Why fight fate? With a resigned smile, she threw caution to the wind.

“What kept you?” she asked.

Chapter 4

His gaze wandered over her silk-clad body. Approval—and something else—lit his eyes. Jessica went hot all over.

He stepped inside, crowding her. The slam of the door as he kicked it shut behind them barely registered, because her mind went from thought to sensation when his hand snaked around her waist, yanked her against him, and his lips took hers.

The scrape of his teeth along her lip matched the scrape of his belt along her belly, his clothes coarse against skin softened and scented from the bath, sensitive from his recent touch. His hands were hard—rough at her waist—and the calluses on his palms snagged the silk, pulling so the material slid against her hips. She shivered, despite the heat in the room.

Their tongues teased, met, mated. She yanked on his jacket, wanting to touch skin and not clothes. Why did he have on a jacket in the middle of summer anyway?

As she slid her hands down his arms, her wrist scraped his service revolver. He swallowed her gasp with another openmouthed kiss, and she forgot the gun as her body exploded with sensation. Pulling her clinging fingers from his arms, he placed them at her sides with a little shake that cautioned “don’t touch.” Her fingertips slid on silk—his mouth along the satin of her lips.

They no longer touched anywhere but lip to lip, tongue to tongue, and that only made her wild for more.

Then he pulled away. Moaning, she leaned toward him. “Hush, baby,” he muttered, his voice harsh and heavy against the flute and water medley that filled the room. “Hold on.”

She opened heavy eyes to find him reaching up to place the gun and badge on top of her bookcase. He hadn’t removed his hands to make her crazy, but only to take off his holster.

A man with a very big gun shouldn’t excite a thoroughly modern woman like herself. But she was. When he turned to her again, she pressed him back against the door and kissed him as her fingers made short work of tie and shirt—his the flowing negligee.

Candlelight flickered across his chest turning the dark whirls of hair to gold. A sigh shuddered through them both when she began to trace the defined muscles of his chest, her fingers splaying across his skin and tangling in the hair, familiarizing herself with his body in a way she’d only dreamed of before.

He pulled his mouth from hers and buried his face in her loose hair. Drawing a deep breath, he rubbed his cheek along the length. “You smell like flowers,” he whispered.

“Uh-huh,” she agreed. Her lips walked a path over his shadowed jaw and neck, then traced his collarbone with her tongue. “You taste like a man.”

He shuddered. “That’s it.” He picked her up suddenly and so high that she had no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck. He went still and closed his eyes, sucking in a breath between his teeth when her thighs slid along his belly and her legs hugged his waist. The muscles of his stomach hardened against the delicate, rarely touched flesh of her inner thighs.

Her gaze was drawn to his face. Eyes closed, jaw clenched, he looked softer somehow than she’d ever seen him. Must be the candlelight, she thought. Without meaning to she loosed one hand from behind his neck and cupped the sharp plane of his cheek.

She expected him to jerk away, or at least open those smoldering eyes. Instead he sighed, his face relaxed, and he rubbed his cheek against her palm, as he’d rubbed his face in her hair. Her heart did a funny little jig and she swallowed, hard.

Opening his eyes, he pulled her tighter against his hardened, muscled torso and moved forward. Under an exquisite shiver of anticipation she threw her head back, and his lips closed over the peak of one breast, taking silk and nipple within his fevered mouth. Shifting restlessly against him, she gasped when the hair on his stomach rasped across her throbbing center.

Then she was falling and although the sensation should have been frightening, instead it was the most exciting thing she’d ever experienced. He might be stronger than her, and bigger than her, and more dangerous than he looked, but he would never hurt her—and no one else would, either, while he was around.

Her back hit the couch, and he towered over her, staring down with dark and secretive eyes. Her breasts throbbed as his gaze wandered over them, then continued along her body. What must she look like with her hair tumbled all about her shoulders, laying there in the candlelight with her nightgown bunched at the small of her back, the skirt rucked to her waist, and the bodice wet and clinging against the nipple that his mouth had taken. She did the only thing her instincts allowed—she reached out for him.

His eyes met hers and slowly his fingers went to his belt. For a moment she considered helping him, hurrying him. But the way his gaze seared into hers, she knew he wanted her to watch. So she lowered her seeking hands and bunched them into fists to make them behave.

The belt gaped open, followed by the button at the top of his trousers. Mesmerized, she watched the shadows that danced upon the two fingers that grasped the zipper. Strained by the bulge beneath, the teeth resisted the movement, and slowed the zipper’s descent as he pulled it down until his erection was freed.

Her fingers clenched again wanting to reach inside those pants and press an itching palm to the heat and fullness. He would be smooth and hard and perfect. Fingernails dug into her palms.

Looping his thumbs in the waistband he drew his pants down, leaving his boxers in place.

Annoyance rumbled deep in her throat and his lips turned up. Kicking off his shoes and pants, he straightened and she started to rise, determined to rid him of those damned blue shorts, which kept her from seeing what she wanted to see—and touching what she wanted to touch.

“Uh-uh,” he warned. “Lay back, Jess.”

And because she knew that the longer she waited, the better this would be, she did, even though her body screamed to touch him, taste him, take him now.

He knelt at her side and his hand skimmed her thigh. A finger traced the surface, teasing, promising, then his thumb rubbed her center, and she arched into the sensation. The movement made her breasts strain against the revealing bodice of her nightgown, and all he needed to do was hook a free finger between them and tug. They sprang free, the slide of the silk along the sensitive peaks making her body hum onto a higher plane so that when his mouth touched them, flesh to flesh, for the first time she nearly climaxed right then.

She was on the edge—had been since that kiss in the weight room yesterday—and his control was beginning to annoy her. Reaching between them, she cupped him in her palm, sliding her finger up his length as he’d slid his thumb along hers. When he cursed and jerked away, she smiled. Not so in control after all.

He caught her smile and raised a brow, then with deliberate movements, put his hand on her nightgown where it pooled beneath her breasts. His fingers curled against her stomach and the shriek of rending cloth split the air as he tore it down the front.

“One hundred twenty dollars and ninety-nine cents,” she muttered.

“And worth every penny.” The flames of the candles seemed dim when compared to the heat that lit his eyes as his gaze wandered over her body.

She had never lain naked and allowed a man to just look at her. She’d never realized how arousing a mere look could be. When he gently shoved the remnants of the torn gown off her shoulders the contrast of his violence, followed by such incredible gentleness, the hardness of those hands and the softness of that mouth made her mind go fuzzy again.

“Touch me,” he said against her lips.

At last she removed the staid blue cotton and ran her fingers, then her mouth, all over him. Time lost meaning and, needing more room to explore each other, somehow along the way they left the couch and tumbled across the carpet. They each came nearly to the peak, and then came down, only to come nearer and nearer each time as they touched and kissed, murmured and gasped, tasted and suckled.

For a moment he left her, searching for his trousers, fumbling around a bit with an urgency that endeared him, even though the clinical rasp of the foil packet made her wince. But when he returned, slipping inside her, making her feel and not think, she only wanted to complete what they had begun in the way they had begun it—fast, hard, now.

Heat and lust and incomprehensible need overtook her and she convulsed with a suddenness that shocked her. Feeling him pulse deep inside made her own release lengthen and when the storm was over, a strange tenderness overtook her that she did not understand. The hand she smoothed over the nape of his neck shook, and she bit her lip, hoping he would not notice.

She tensed when he stirred, half-afraid he would make some sarcastic comment and ruin what for her had been a wonderful, terrifying experience.

He raised his head and stared at her for a long moment. The candles flickered in his eyes, making her wonder if she saw confusion there, too, or nothing but the dancing flames. Then he bent foreward and kissed her temple in a tender gesture that did not seem like McGuire at all.

“Hi,” he said. She smiled. “You want to adjourn to the bedroom?”

Silly and schoolgirlish as it was, she blushed. She was lying naked on the floor of her apartment, having just had mad passionate sex all over the room with the man who she could still feel against her; yet she blushed when he asked if she’d like to go another round on the bed.

“Uh…sure,” she said, then gritted her teeth at her lack of social grace. Was there an etiquette to this? She hadn’t a clue. Her experiences in the land of slap and tickle did not include how to get from the floor to the bed with grace and class. Probably because once you’d done it on the floor you’d pretty much killed any hope of being classy again.

McGuire didn’t seem embarrassed though. He probably did this all the time. That thought made Jessica narrow her eyes at his back as he stood. Then he turned and reached for her, lifting her to her feet with ease, and pulling her against him for a long, mind-numbing kiss. After that, when he led her down the hall, she went, and she didn’t think anymore.

At least not until she drifted toward sleep in his arms, the scent of him—of them—all around her and wondered just what in the name of common sense she had done.

The sound of a cell phone going off in the distance dragged her from a deep and satisfying sleep. Blinking she looked around the bedroom. The grayish cast revealed they’d slept the rest of the night, which hadn’t been much after they’d played a repeat performance—make that a double feature—on Jessica’s bed.

Doug got up cursing and walked down the hall toward the living room. She heard him thrashing around, bumping into furniture and continuing to curse, presumably trying to find his pants—and his phone. Then the ringing stopped and a few seconds later she heard the low, somehow comforting murmur of him talking on the phone.

She drifted in a pleasant half awake, half asleep state until he touched her shoulder. Jessica opened her eyes to find him fully dressed, gun and all, staring down at her with a bemused smile as the light of the rising sun tinted the window behind him an orange, yellow and pink.

“Hi.” Jessica shoved her hair out of her face, grimacing as she felt the tangles a night rolling around had caused.

Doug sat down on the bed and she rolled against him, the bump of their hips making her body kick into lust overdrive. She put her hand on his thigh to steady herself, and his leg clenched.

“I have to go.”

She frowned at the distance in his voice and his eyes. “I understand.”

“Call you later?”

Jessica nodded. Every woman’s nightmare—I’ll call. Yeah right!

“Sure,” she answered and took her hand from his leg. He kissed her, but she could tell his mind was already somewhere else. The next time she saw Doug McGuire, it would be in a courtroom.

A night spent on the couch, and the floor, and the bed—and hadn’t there been a wall in there somewhere—made Jessica fall back asleep, even when she should have gotten up as soon as the door closed behind Doug McGuire.

Instead, the phone shrilling in her ear brought her awake with a gasp to bright sunlight across the bed. Her pounding heart leaped at the sight of her clock reading 8:15 a.m.

Using some of the colorful curses she’d heard McGuire use that morning, she found the phone amidst a tower of law books on her nightstand.

“So how was your night with the real man?” Her father’s voice boomed in her ear.

“What?”

For a moment she thought her father knew everything, and even though he was her best friend, and she was an adult, well, everything that had happened here last night was for no one’s ears but her own. Not even Liz’s this time.