Kitabı oku: «Look, But Don't Touch», sayfa 2

2

BETWEEN KISSES they were soon naked and breathless on his bed, covered with a down comforter that gathered them close and cushioned them in warmth.

He plunged his hands into her hair, pulling it, kneading her scalp as his hot breath brushed her skin. His lips captured hers in great hungry gulps while his hips ground against her, his arousal pulsating with need. The power of his appetite demanded that she meet his every move with equal fire. She did.

Suddenly he pulled her hands above her head so that she couldn’t move. His mouth moved down her neck, tasting her nipple with his tongue and finally capturing it with his lips. Beneath him she writhed, trying desperately to entice him inside her. But he was not finished with her yet. With a hard tug she pulled away from his grasp. Hands free to touch, she explored hard muscles. Soft, pliable skin clenched in its wild need to be joined. Skin against skin, she was on fire, little sparks exploding outward, heating them both, making her wet with want. She knew he could tell she was with him. Pleasure throbbed inside her, growing stronger, frantic to be released.

Jesse was inside her and for a moment any thought of control was gone, until he realized what was happening and forced himself to still. “Whoa, lady,” he said in a tight voice. What was he doing, making love to her without protection? And why hadn’t she stopped him?

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Everything. Because professional call girl or not, he wanted her.

She squirmed beneath him, crying out with need. He wanted her and he’d gone too far to turn back, but if he was going to break his own code of ethics, he’d still be smart enough to protect himself and her.

He reached past her and fumbled in the drawer in the nightstand. He couldn’t reach it and had to lift himself up.

“Don’t go away,” she said.

He tried to open the packet, dropped it and cursed. The throb grew stronger as if liquid lightning pulsed through his veins.

“You don’t need that,” she gasped.

“You may not, but I do. I don’t take chances.” He grabbed the packet from the floor.

“Give it to me,” Cat said, pushing him to his back as she removed the contents and tossed the foil to the floor. She smiled. He didn’t have to worry, but a little interruption like this always heightened the tension. She slowly rolled the latex down. He moaned and she could feel the muscles in his body contract as she touched him.

“For God’s sake, get it done,” he growled.

“For my sake, I’m trying.”

“Let me.” He pushed her away, finished and moved back over her. Their eyes were only inches apart. Even in the dark he could see the same desire he knew she saw in his. She breathed in the air he breathed out. He felt as though he’d never been so close to a woman before. She made a desperate sound deep in her throat and reached between them to grasp the hard length of him. This time she clasped her legs around his body and forced him inside her. There was no thinking, only her woman smell, his smell and the slight salty taste of her skin. He filled her with the raw sense of his hot sex.

This time there was no stopping. This time he slammed into her and she raised herself to meet him. He heard her gasp for breath, crying out in pleasure. He felt the beginning of her climax and tightened his muscles in an effort to sustain the moment, then groaned and once again plunged deep inside her as release exploded through them both.

Jesse had some earth-stopping climaxes before, but never like this. As the tremors subsided, little sparks of aftershocks continued to fire. He lay there until his heart stilled and his breathing went back to near normal. Then, finally, he rolled off her, pulled her close beside him, and curled his arm around her shoulder.

“I don’t know what to say,” he murmured, no longer loving her with his lips or his hands, yet still connected to her more intimately than he’d thought possible. How could he explain what had happened, how he’d broken his own rule, first about making love to a woman in his own house, then about the kind of woman he’d just shared the most intimate experience of his life with? It had to be an effect of the storm.

“Talking after something like that would be a sacrilege.”

“But women like to talk.”

“Not this woman. That kind of climax is worth a thousand words and I don’t know one that would accurately describe it.”

He kissed her forehead, his fingertips drawing little circles on her shoulder, memorizing the feel of her.

“Neither do I.”

He continued to hold her as he listened to the sound of his breathing, her breathing, and the heated waves of silence.

She shivered and said, “I think it’s stopped raining.”

“Are you cold?” he asked, but made no effort to pull up the covers.

“No. Cold is the last thing I am.”

“You shivered.”

“I think it’s because this is a little awkward. I’ve never been in exactly this situation before.”

“What kind of situation?”

“This may happen to you all the time, but I generally don’t end up naked in the arms of a man I don’t know.”

“You don’t? You did say men were your business, didn’t you?”

“But that’s different,” she started to explain, then stopped. He wouldn’t understand. He was right. She made her living off men’s bodies. She even sampled their attributes once in a while. But her partners always knew that it was casual and temporary. By staying in his arms, she’d broken one of her own rules tonight.

“I know. You do your thing, then move on and it’s all over.” He couldn’t pretend he expected anything else. From the beginning, everything about her looks, clothes, those heart-attack legs said big bucks and the expertise to demand it.

“Well, yes.”

“So this is over?” His words came out before he had known what he was going to say.

“Certainly. I mean, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Business as usual?” he said, wondering why he was bothered by her statement. He agreed with her. Didn’t he?

“Well, no. This isn’t business,” she admitted, a curious catch in her voice. “It’s personal. Normally, I make it a point to enjoy each…encounter, recognize it for what it is and move on. But this is different.” She was beginning to get a strange feeling about what was happening between them. “Like you said, I’m a direct woman. Since I’m being honest, I’ll confess I wanted you like I’ve never wanted any man. And you wanted me. How does that make you feel?”

“Horny as hell,” he admitted. “This was possibly a mistake, yet I’m about one touch away from making another.”

She laughed dryly. “Well, at least you’re man enough to admit when you’ve made a mistake.”

“And to admit when I’ve broken a few of my own rules.”

“Maybe we both did.”

The warm cocoon was dissipating. Cat didn’t like the awkward feeling. Always before, she and her partner had been on the same page. Tonight neither she nor her one-night stand had taken the lead and the result felt like two pieces of wire still sparking but no longer connected. It was time to go, before she did or said something dumb like “Can I live with you and have your children?”

Finally she made an uneasy move away. When he didn’t pull her back, she said the first thing that came to mind. “You think that coffee’s ready?”

“I’m sure it is,” he said, then stood and held out his hand to help her up. “By the way, if this were a business arrangement and I wanted to hire you, what would you have said to me?”

She stood, slid her arms into his flannel shirt, gathered up her damp clothes and headed to the fire in the other room, trying to put some distance between her and the man who’d just ravished her gloriously. “You don’t understand. It’s me that would be hiring you. And, that’s easy. I would have started by asking you to strip. Then I’d make you an offer.”

She didn’t know why she’d said that. That was her wise-cracking, break-the-ice line for models. But this wasn’t a wise-cracking kind of man. Suddenly she was confused. She had to get dressed and leave. Granted, her El Camino was low to the ground. Granted, the flat areas of Texas flooded quickly. Granted, he wasn’t an ax murderer. And he hadn’t done anything she hadn’t wanted. In fact, he’d done exactly what she’d wanted. Yet, she had the urge to run.

She heard him pad to the kitchen. Then she grabbed her clothes out of the bathroom, and as she leaned down and pulled on her jeans, she caught the scent of him again—as if he’d just removed his shirt and handed it to her. With nervous energy she crossed her arms over her chest and hugged the fabric close. For a long moment she held her breath, then let it out, chastising herself for being bewitched—for that was the only excuse she could come up with for how she was feeling. Clasping the towel with both hands, she leaned her head forward and began rubbing her wet hair.

“Coffee’s ready. Sorry, it’s black.” Wearing a pair of worn jeans, riding low on his hips, and a University of Texas T-shirt, he was carrying two mugs.

He walked over to her chair, handed her one, then moved toward the television. “Hope you don’t mind, but I want to catch the news.” He turned on the television and collapsed in his easy chair as if nothing had happened between them. Flipping channels, he seemed to focus all his attention on the news reports as if she wasn’t there. Was he finding this as strange as she was? Was he going to ignore her reply about stripping?

Moments later he was totally involved in the story of the solving of a five-year-old case, an undertaker who’d killed his wife and buried her in the same casket as the elderly aunt of one of San Antonio’s leading citizens. At the time, the undertaker appeared to be grief stricken. With no body or evidence to support foul play, the police had been forced to release him. The mortician’s wife had disappeared. Only the determined efforts of a Texas Ranger had finally solved the case. The problem was, he’d neglected to get permission from the family whose plot he’d disturbed.

Cat stood and walked over to the fireplace. The rain had stopped. It was time she left. As she turned to tell him, she noticed a desk in the corner and the pictures under the glass top. They appeared to be his family. Boys playing football. A girl hugging a guy.

No, not just a guy, it was the man she’d just made love with. He was wearing a white Stetson and a badge.

The woman was Bettina Dane.

“Now, for a word with the officer,” the television reporter was saying. Cat turned to the TV and watched him walk toward a tall, dark man wearing the customary white shirt and white Stetson worn by the Texas Rangers. “He’s the newest member of the San Antonio unit and he’s setting a remarkable record. A champion of law and order, he’s being called San Antonio’s supercop. Excuse me, Ranger—”

Cat leaned forward. She recognized that silhouette.

“—Jesse James Dane. Could we have a word with you?”

“No comment,” was the icy reply as he turned away.

Jesse James Dane. Bettina’s brother. The very man she’d planned to avoid. Suddenly a click changed the station to the weather channel where the forecaster was informing the public that the possibility of flooding was not over.

Jesse turned and saw that she’d witnessed the news clip. “I think I’d better go,” she said.

She watched Jesse take a big swig from his mug, give an elaborate shrug of his shoulders and lean back. “Relax. You’re safe from arrest. I’m off duty. Besides, the storm may be past, but you never know about flooding. Until we’re sure, you’re welcome to stay.”

“No!” Cat handed Jesse her mug and babbled like an idiot. “I have to get into town. Mr. Szachon is expecting me. I’ll get your shirt back to you. I’ll be able to buy you a new bike if this job goes well.”

Jesse stared at her. Sterling Szachon. He should have known. Everything about her said high-priced. From the beginning she’d been honest—she was out of his league. She was also a woman who gave full value for her service. He could attest to that. But her announcement that she was meeting Sterling Szachon knocked him for a loop.

As rich as Donald Trump, as handsome as sin, Szachon had taken San Antonio by storm. Like Trump, he had a reputation for success with both business and the ladies. He had a new female companion at his side every six months. The gossip was that they were all informed they were temporary. When their time was up, he’d give them something very expensive and send them happily on their way. The gossip didn’t say the women were professionals, but this mystery woman with the El Camino had said he would be her employer. He couldn’t blame her for keeping her profession private with her quip that she did the hiring, but he couldn’t stop a pang of regret. He stood and took a step toward her.

“Keep the shirt. And you’re not responsible for my bike. I have insurance.”

“Thank you for the shirt,” she said formally.

“Thank you for driving me home,” he murmured just as stiffly, following her as she backed out the kitchen door, stepped into a puddle of water and skidded.

He caught her elbows and she was in his arms again. There was an odd moment where both were absolutely still. By the light in the kitchen, he could see the clear blue of her eyes fringed by brown-gold lashes. He felt her catch her breath and hold it.

He’d thought he was in control. Since the death of his mother, he’d spent ten years training himself to erase emotion. Love hurt once it was gone. And this was a love-’em-and-leave-’em woman. But as she slowly let out the air in her lungs, he leaned forward and kissed her again. Like a lover, not a stranger. He hadn’t known he was going to do it.

For a second Cat parted her lips, then moaned and pulled away, her eyes open wide in surprise.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, her voice a throaty whisper.

“You’re in Texas,” he said. “people here kiss hello and goodbye.”

“I…h-have to go,” she stammered, pushing out of his arms and dashing to her truck.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t know her name. He didn’t want to. It was better that way.

THE EL CAMINO’S ENGINE started, just as she’d said. From the way she sped away, it was clear that if she had to, she’d swim to get away from him. As a man, he knew he ought not to go after her. As a Texas Ranger who had caused her desperate need to run, he told himself he couldn’t not go. She didn’t have to know. He’d just tag along behind her to make certain that she made it into town.

He watched as her truck sputtered a bit. But she was a good driver and made it onto the bridge. His vehicle, a Dodge Ram, rode across the water like a big sleek boat. He kept his distance, allowing her the illusion of being alone—at least until they reached the hotel. He slowed his truck as she drove onto the mock drawbridge entrance to the Palace, unloaded her luggage, then handed the keys over to the valet. Szachon had built a place that rivaled the Taj Mahal. If there’d been a ten-star rating, this hotel would get an eleven. The high-priced call girls he’d known about couldn’t afford to operate out of the Palace unless they were invited. This woman had a personal invitation.

With her long, determined stride she headed for the revolving doors, then stopped and turned back, her eyes scanning the street as if she sensed his presence. For just a second they seemed to connect on some level and he felt an odd tingle, then she tilted her chin up and entered the hotel.

He drove across the ramp, lowered the passenger window so that he could see her pause briefly at the registration desk then be whisked away toward the elevators without registering. Obviously she was expected.

What the hell was wrong with him, following this woman? He already had an appointment with his captain in the morning for what was certain to be a dressing-down. Getting a judge’s permission to disturb a grave without knowledge of the family had solved the crime, but he hadn’t followed political protocol. In his mind, the end result justified the means since he’d managed to solve a case. But he’d put a question mark in his file.

A Texas Ranger often operated alone, but he was expected to use good judgment. Jesse knew the captain wouldn’t gloss over his actions, even though he’d found the murdered woman and made the arrest. All he could do was apologize to the grieving family of the woman whose grave he’d opened.

He understood about grief and loss, and he’d found his own way to survive. First the marines, then later the Texas Rangers. They’d become his family, his stability in a life that had been an angry rebellion. Each had provided boundaries and taught him the value of rules. Now, he’d not only broken a department rule, he’d broken a personal one, as well.

Tomorrow he’d accept his captain’s punishment. Tonight, watching the most incredible woman he’d ever made love to disappear into another man’s territory was punishment enough.

AS THE ELEVATOR Cat and the Palace bellman shared shot up the side of the lobby, she was only vaguely aware of the luxurious hotel decor. Her mind seemed to be fused to a simple adobe house behind the church. From riding a Harley in the rain to fussing over the weather, everything about Jesse James Dane had been a contradiction. They’d shared incredible sex, then he’d turned away, glued to a newscast.

Normally she picked men that were easy to define. But this time she hadn’t picked. This time she’d been slammed into him thanks to a storm and her instincts to be a Good Samaritan. At least he didn’t know she was a friend of his sister Bettina’s.

As the elevator slowed Cat forced herself to concentrate on the man she was about to meet. Sterling Szachon was expecting her. He’d pay her well and provide living quarters and a liberal expense account. In return, she’d select the sites and photograph the models for his male underwear catalog. To make that happen, she’d forget about Jesse James Dane, Texas Ranger, trouble in every sense of the word.

At least he didn’t know her name.

THE ELEVATOR DOOR slid open with a whisper. She realized that they were exiting into a private corridor. The bellman wheeled his cart past the main set of double doors down the corridor and unlocked a smaller door.

Cat entered the room, caught sight of the elaborate fruit bowl and flower arrangement and knew immediately that this had to be a temporary arrangement. No catalog photographer was provided with such luxurious surroundings.

“Are you certain this is where I’m supposed to be?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, ma’am. Mr. Szachon left instructions for us to take you to your room. The top floor houses his personal living quarters, his office and his executive staff. He owns the hotel, you know.” He unloaded her bag and camera equipment, adjusted the drapes, pointed out the television and gave her the special elevator key needed to reach the top floor. She gave him a tip and he excused himself.

Well, maybe, she decided, but until she met Mr. Szachon she would leave her bags packed. This room made her uneasy. Until she signed the contract, this wasn’t a done deal. And staying in her employer’s quarters was unacceptable, even if the rest of the staff did enjoy the same privilege. She made a list of what she needed, including a sample case of his underwear and an assistant, preferably female.

By ten o’clock she’d eaten the fruit. By midnight she reined in her frustration at being ignored, pulled off everything but the flannel shirt and her panties, and went to bed. She’d get a good night’s rest and meet with the underwear king in the morning at her convenience.

But sleep was elusive. She tossed and turned, trying to empty her mind of distractions. It wasn’t her meeting with Szachon but her physical collision with Jesse Dane that kept intruding. He simply marched into her mind and took control.

He hadn’t taken anything she hadn’t given, but nothing about their lovemaking had been ordinary. It was almost as if she had been the victim of one of those fancy new drugs but she’d had nothing to eat or drink and she didn’t have to be told that Jesse was true-blue and full of propriety. Jesse was a ranger and by definition, followed the rules. A man like that tended to be her least favorite type, unless the man was following her rules.

And she hadn’t set any.

She hated to admit it but no man had ever affected her so strongly. Her body still strummed its need for more. She didn’t understand the lingering aftermath of heat.

She understood control. It was something her father had valued. Control was a state of mind, a kind of self-protection for someone who lived by the book. There were rules of order and, just as her father had done, she was certain Jesse kept every one of them. Except where women were concerned. Apparently he had different standards for one-night stands with perfect strangers. Still, like her, the ranger seemed to be out of sync at the end. Considering he lived by the rules, she was surprised he hadn’t escorted her back to the hotel. For a moment there, she’d been disappointed that he hadn’t.

Cat forced her attention away from Jesse James Dane to the man who was hiring her, Sterling Szachon, nicknamed Zon by the press when they dubbed him one of the twenty-five richest bachelors in the world. Cat had done a little research of her own. The press could well be right. Mr. Szachon owned a large, successful hotel chain, a major league baseball team, real estate, at least one ranch and a local Texas cable service. But the thing that made him different was that people seemed to genuinely like Zon. With his golden opulence, the women certainly did.

He had the Midas touch; every new project turned to gold. She could only hope that his underwear business followed that pattern. Shooting his catalogs would be a feather in her cap. And though she’d never admit it to Bettina, she was ready to stay in one spot for a while—so long as she had her photography to use as her get out-of-jail card when she wanted to go.

Finally she began to relax. Sleep would come. But it wouldn’t be Sterling Szachon who invaded her dreams, it would be a dark-haired Texas Ranger wearing jeans low on his hips, an Ice Man who slept under a down comforter, a man whose kiss still seared her lips.