Against the Odds

by Donna Kauffman

  And she was swept up in it, those same feelings rushing through her, fueling her desire, her desire for him. Only him, she thought distantly, sinking her fingers into his thick, dark hair, clawing at his scalp, wanting to devour him whole.

  He rolled to his back, taking her with him. She straddled him easily, only dimly able to wonder where this boundless appetite for him came from. She should be empty now, totally sated, exhausted of all needs and wants. But no, there was a hunger for him she hadn’t even touched. And she was fairly certain, that even if she had him unrelentingly, for every moment of the next four days, she’d still be hungry when he left her.

  Left her. Alone. She couldn’t even think it. Not now, when she could immerse herself in him and all the emotions he churned up inside her. If only they were exclusively sexual. But they weren’t. And there was the risk she faced. Feeding that hunger, while trying not to feed those deeper, profound needs she now realized were at the core of what she really wanted.

  That need to belong, the one she’d felt in the shower, curled against his slick chest, tucked beneath hands that would shelter her, care for her. Protect her.

  She, who had always protected herself.

  Yeah, came that inner, taunting voice, by running. Hiding inside books.

  She’d come here, hadn’t she? some part of her mind fought back, even as she plunged her tongue into his mouth, mated fiercely with his, dominating, before he turned the tables and took over. She was taking, wasn’t she? Doing what she wanted, going after what she wanted? She wasn’t running now.

  Tucker rolled her again, broke free, panting hard as he rose above her looking for all the world like one of his warrior ancestors. “What if I want more?” He said it as if the words had been torn from him, his voice a hoarse growl. He leaned in, gripped her head, held her there, his face merely an inch from hers. “What if I want more?”

  Her heart pounded so hard, it should have drowned out every taunting thought. But it didn’t. Okay then, if you’re not running, now what? “Then maybe we take more.”

  She hadn’t known what to brace for, but it wasn’t the wild grin that creased his face, almost as untamed as the gleam in his eye.

  “I don’t think you’d have done well at Miss Pottingham’s,” she said faintly, her lips curving as a dangerous rush poured through her. Dear Lord, what had she done? What had she loosed? Both in him…and in herself?

  “No?” he said, rolling between her thighs.

  She shook her head, felt him nudging, miraculously, at her. “In fact, you would have been her downfall.” As you might well be mine.

  “I can’t seem to get enough of you,” he said, somewhat in shock himself as he pushed against her.

  “I’m not complaining.” Her body should be, but the only ache she felt was one of yearning. To be filled by him. Again. And again. “My—I need to—”

  “Where are they?” he asked, understanding what she wanted.

  “My bag. On the floor, by the bed.”

  He shifted, rolled off of her, making her pout without even being aware of it.

  When he rolled back, he sported his own wicked grin…holding more than a small contraceptive package.

  “And what are these for?”

  Four lengths of black silken cord dripped from his fingers.

  11

  TUCKER HADN’T WANTED to leave her, even for a second. He just grinned when the cabbie eyed his damp, rumpled shirt.

  “I let you out here?” the young man asked doubtfully.

  “Yep,” Tucker said, sliding out in front of his hotel after paying the fare. He smiled as the cabbie drove off, still shaking his head. So he looked a little disreputable. God knows he’d earned it. Thinking back on everything he and Misty had done in the past twelve or so hours he could only smile and shrug. Being insatiable was nothing to be ashamed of.

  He ducked into the lobby, intent on getting a change of clothes, calling to cancel the remainder of his seminars, then heading back to the Bellagio. And Misty. If he was lucky, he could be back before she woke up.

  His stomach rumbled loudly and he chuckled. Okay, so he’d stop and pick up some food on his way. Breakfast in bed. He punched the elevator button, already imagining just how he was going to wake her up…and exactly how he wanted his strawberries and cream.

  “Tucker! Wait up.”

  He didn’t even glance over his shoulder. Open, dammit, he silently begged the elevator doors. Then he could pretend that Mig wasn’t headed his way.

  Unfortunately, Mig jogged up to him just as the doors finally slid open.

  “Hey, man, glad I caught you. I’ve been leaving messages since last night.” Then he noticed the less than pristine state of Tucker’s wardrobe and broke into a smile. “I guess you weren’t here to pick them up, eh?”

  “No,” Tucker said, smiling despite wishing like hell Mig hadn’t found him. He liked the guy, both personally and professionally, but at the moment he really didn’t want him to be here. “In fact, I’m only here now to grab a change of clothes.”

  “Some night.”

  “You might say that.”

  Fortunately Mig was a better man than Strosnyder—but then, who wasn’t?—and refrained from making an inappropriate comment that would have forced Tucker to plant his fist in his face.

  “Any chance I can tear you away for a little while?” Mig asked. “We never got the chance to talk at the lab yesterday and there is something I’d really like your opinion on.”

  As much as Tucker wanted to get back to Misty, he was torn, if only for a second. “I don’t know what I can offer you, man. I already told you my experience in your field is strictly classroom. And I thought you had Ralston cold?”

  “So did we. But we got some new information in last night.”

  “The other lipstick?”

  He nodded. “Doesn’t match anything Ms. Denton had with her. But it does match the smear we found on the collar of Ralston’s jacket.”

  He had Tucker’s full attention now. “So Misty was right. He had someone with him. Or a girlfriend anyway.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “So, you’ve got premeditation now. It wasn’t a crime of passion, maybe he just wanted her out of the way. First degree murder.”

  “Except we don’t necessarily have the shooter.”

  “What?”

  “We ran tests on Ralston’s hands. No residue.”

  “So he was wearing gloves. Or he washed up well.”

  “Possible. We have no prints on the scene other than Ms. Denton and several employees. The thing is, Ralston defied his attorney and talked to us today. He’s sticking to his claim that he wasn’t there that night, says the driver is mistaken about who he saw at the gates. He also says he hasn’t seen that jacket in weeks. Says he left it in his clubhouse restaurant and never got around to picking it up. We’re checking with the waitstaff to see if anyone remembers seeing it recently.”

  “So anyone who picked up that jacket—”

  Mig just nodded. “Now that lipstick is taking on a bit more importance. It’s on the jacket, on the napkin, both of which were on scene.”

  “Even if Ralston might not have been.”

  “Exactly.”

  “He give you anything on a possible girlfriend?”

  Mig laughed harshly. “Oh yeah, right. No, he claims he has no girlfriend, that he was faithful to his wife.”

  “His wife was a lot older than him, right?”

  “Almost twenty years.”

  Tucker whistled. “So it wouldn’t be a stretch for him to be out looking.”

  “Or for her to be getting her jollies elsewhere while he was.”

  “So, what do you need me for?”

  “Conflicting results on the splatter analysis.”

  “Such as?”

  “How tall the shooter was, for one.”

  Tucker laughed. “Hey, I was taking the analysis class from you, you know. You teacher, me student.”

  Mig smiled,
but the look in his eyes remained serious. “At dinner the other night, you mentioned you took some courses on laser trajectory analysis.”

  Tucker had, and had been fascinated by the new development. They had special equipment now that shot thin beams of light from one location outward to every splatter point on a given surface. It revealed, amongst other things, a great deal about the exact position of both the shooter and the victim at the moment of impact. “Do you have the system?”

  Mig shook his head. “And though I’ve wanted to take the training, I knew our budget wouldn’t allow us to get the system anytime soon.” He shrugged. “So I’ve put it off. So has everyone else. But we’re working on borrowing one and if all goes well, we might have it here by tonight. You game in helping us set it up?”

  “I’m not going to say no, but you know if Ralston’s attorney wants to make a stink about you bringing me in on this—”

  “This won’t be pivotal trial evidence, but it will add another puzzle piece to the investigation. Whoever did this will be wrapped up so tight by the time we get done, there won’t even be a trial.”

  Tucker admired Mig’s intensity, felt a tug of the same inside himself. “I hope you’re right.”

  “Yeah. In the meantime, I’d like you to come in, look at the photographs, maybe take a look at the scene. So you’ll know what to expect when the equipment gets here. I can wait for you to change, drive you myself.”

  And that’s when Tucker remembered where they were…and what he’d been planning to do this morning. And with who. “Uh…damn.”

  Mig grinned and this time it reached his eyes. “Hell being torn between two lovers, isn’t it? Main reason I’ve stayed single.”

  Tucker chuckled and answered automatically. “Yeah, well I don’t plan on growing old alone.”

  “Is that why you stay in that two-horse town of yours? So you can have your cake and eat it, too?”

  “Maybe.” Tucker had never acknowledged that before, but Mig had a good point. Canyon Springs was where a man married, raised a family, grew old, retired, went fishing with his grandkids. And where his job would never be so challenging that he couldn’t have plenty of time to do it all. Had he always been so willing to settle for less, just in case?

  “Not much variety in that cake though, I imagine.” Mig grinned. “Either kind.”

  He was certainly right about that, Tucker thought. Misty was a whole new flavor. And Las Vegas a whole new bakery.

  Mig studied him. “Looks to me like you’re already enjoying sampling the variety life has to offer.” He’d said it straight, no leer or offense intended.

  “Sometimes life offers you the best slice when you least expect it,” Tucker responded. “And where.”

  “We still talking about homicide?”

  Tucker grinned. “Maybe.”

  “So, you need some time? I can send a car for you later. Can’t promise Ted won’t be driving it, though.”

  Tucker and Mig shared a look of disgust. “Let me go up and change, make a few calls,” Tucker said. “Can you give me fifteen?”

  “Sure.”

  Tucker took the next available elevator, wondering as he rode to his floor how a person’s life could change so completely in such a short span of time.

  He was already shrugging out of his clothes as the door to his room closed behind him. He grabbed a two-minute shower and pulled on fresh khakis and a dark blue polo shirt, smiling as he glanced at the rumpled heap of clothes on the floor. He wondered if Misty was awake yet and crossed to the phone by the bed before he’d tucked in his shirt. Suddenly he had to hear her voice, had to know how she’d sound first thing in the morning. She picked up on the second ring.

  “Hello?” Her tone was sharp, almost distracted.

  Tucker smiled bemusedly. Not exactly the drowsy, sexually sated good morning he’d expected. “You sound pretty chipper.”

  “And here I thought I just sounded smug.” She laughed warmly and he wanted badly to be next to her, touching her. “I got your note. I ordered up some breakfast. Want me to save you some?”

  “Actually, that’s why I’m calling.”

  “Uh-oh, that sounds ominous.”

  “Mig met me here, he’s waiting downstairs. He wants me to come in and look over some evidence.”

  “Sounds mysterious and interesting. I thought they had this case sewn up, though.”

  Tucker liked it that she didn’t pout or whine. Although he felt like doing both. “Apparently Ralston is standing by his claim that he wasn’t there, that the jacket was planted in his trash.”

  “What about the lipstick?”

  “It’s not Denton’s. And they found traces of the same lipstick on the jacket.”

  “Curiouser and curiouser. Hmm.”

  Tucker paused then. Her interest was definitely sincere, almost too sincere. In fact, he swore he heard wheels turning. “Just what were you doing when I called anyway?”

  “Is my distraction that obvious?” She laughed. “I was taking down some notes, actually. Wishing I had my laptop.”

  “Notes? And here you told me I wasn’t research.” He said it teasingly.

  “Well, I would have thought you’d have filled my dreams as perfectly as you filled me.”

  Tucker choked on a surprised little laugh. “I take it I didn’t, however. I’ll have to work harder next time.”

  “I’m not sure you could be. Any harder, I mean.”

  “I know what you mean.” So did his body, which she aroused so easily. “So, what did you dream about?”

  “Murder.”

  Now he laughed outright. “You know what fascinates me?”

  “What?”

  “You. Your mind.” And how I can be so head over heels when I just met you. “So, what notes were you taking?”

  “I’m plotting my next novel, and I’m thinking about adding a murder investigation. Nothing about this case, of course. It just got the juices flowing, as they say.”

  “I like that saying, as it happens. So, you’re thinking of shifting to erotic suspense?”

  “Oh, I rather like the sound of that,” she murmured. “I hadn’t actually thought to label it, but yes, that would be the appropriate term, I imagine.”

  He heard the rustle of paper and could only grin as she drifted off again. “Why don’t we plan to meet for lunch?” he offered. “I might have to go back in this evening for a couple of hours, but then we can have the rest of the night.” She didn’t respond right away, so he waited a few moments. When all he heard was a pen scratching on paper, he said, “I thought we might finally get around to using those silk cords I found yesterday.”

  “What? Oh!” She laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m lost in my story here. Amazing how neatly you pulled me out, though.”

  “I thought it was rather clever.”

  “I thought you promised to leave the accent to me.”

  “So I did,” he said, making them both laugh. “You rub off on me, I guess. I don’t even know I’m doing it.”

  “Funny, but I always knew exactly when you were doing it.”

  “Are we still talking about my horrible accent?”

  “Maybe.”

  Tucker grinned. Maybe that was what had him so wrapped up, that for as different as they were, in some ways their minds worked in a far too similar way. “So, do we have a date?”

  “Lunch you said?”

  “To start.”

  “Only if you promise we can talk shop while we eat.”

  “I’m all yours. Pick my brain, ravish my body, whatever you desire.”

  “Just lunch will do. For now.” She laughed when he made a pouting little sigh. “We can meet up again when you’re done for a late dinner, maybe a little bondage for dessert.”

  “I—” He stopped as that last part sank in, gave him a wicked little zing. She really was the damnedest woman he’d ever met. He thought about what she’d said to Ted, about seducing her reader’s minds along with their bodies. She’d done that
to him. Effortlessly. “I think I might be able to work that in.”

  Now there was no doubting the wicked ring to her laugh. “Oh darling, I’m rather counting on that.”

  The zing turned to a spike. He should be hobbling by now, considering all they’d done to each other the day before. But here he was, ready and raring to go. Again. He wondered how much time they’d have to spend together before that insatiable need wore off. And hoped like hell he’d get the chance to find out. “Well then, consider it done.”

  “Consider it considered. And Tucker, just so you understand, I didn’t bring those cords for me.”

  Tucker was still trying to claw his tongue out of his throat as the dial tone echoed in his ear. He sat there for several long moments, thinking only an idiot wouldn’t cancel everything and rush immediately back to her side. Except she was working. And Mig was waiting. And where she was concerned, there was something to be said for anticipation.

  He finished dressing and made it to the elevator banks in time to snag a ride down without waiting. It was only as he descended to the lobby that he realized his anticipation was as much for lunch and shop talk as it was for their dinner. And bondage dessert.

  Four days was definitely not going to do it. He was going to have to find a way to continue seeing her. How, he had no idea. But he still had a couple of days to come up with a plan.

  Mig stood up as he entered the lobby. “All set?”

  “Yep. One request though,” he said as the idea hit him. “Is there a bookstore around here somewhere we could stop by?”

  From the look on his face, Mig knew exactly whose books he was going to be hunting down. He grinned and shook his head. “You’re a goner. You know that.”

  Tucker shrugged, but his grin was wide and he didn’t bother hiding it. In fact, he wanted to shout it to the whole world. “Apparently.”

  Mig just laughed. “We’ve been trying to con you to stay here since you walked into our classroom and she gets to you in a few hours. Maybe we should get her to talk you into it.”

  Tucker just shot him a grin. “You know, being a goner isn’t so bad. Feels pretty good. Damn good, in fact. You should think about trying it.”