Beneath the Layers

by Caitlyn Willows

  “Thanks. I’d love to sit.” Midge flashed him a tentative smile.

  This guy wouldn’t be any different from the Marines she worked with every day. Most of them were good guys, all in all. When he grabbed her hand in his hot, sweaty palm and yanked her through the tables, she regretted her decision. All her efforts to pull free were in vain. His grip threatened to crush her fingers. Finally, they reached their goal. There was indeed a stool waiting for her there, but it was surrounded by a crowd of Marines playing a game of quarters with jiggers of rum.

  “Here she is, guys,” her escort crowed. “Told you I could get her to come with me. Pony up the ten-spot you owe me, Clark.”

  Midge stopped dead in her tracks. She should have stayed where she was or, better yet, left as her instinct demanded.

  I can’t believe this.

  “You don’t get the cash until she sits on your lap, McConnell,” one of the men shouted. “I’ll double it if she sits astride you.”

  “C’mon, baby.” McConnell clamped his hand over her wrist. “Come sit on daddy’s lap and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  The group whistled and catcalled, urging McConnell to pick her up.

  “Where I’m from, a girl like you needs a strong man to keep her in line.” Her captor tugged on her wrist.

  She set her jaw, braced her heels and yanked free. “No way, jerk.”

  Midge spun away, weaving through the fuzzy blur of tables and people. McConnell shouted after her. She hastened her step, praying he wouldn’t catch her. A rail and flashing lights told her she’d reached the steps leading down to the dance floor. Another glance revealed their table had been taken.

  Enough is enough. I’m going home.

  Susan and Jeremy were lost in the swarm below. Midge had no choice but to dive in. She couldn’t leave without telling them. Hand grasping the rail, Midge descended into the mass of gyrating dancers.

  The DJ had the bass cranked high. Each thud reverberated through her to the point of pain. Her eyes watered from the bitter stench of cigarette smoke. Where’s a health inspector when you need one? She was going to report this first thing in the morning. A thousand different perfumes and colognes underlaid the smoke, each one vying for dominance, all blending together in a heady mix that reeked of sex and sweat. Panic threatened to overtake her.

  “Susan!”

  Shouting over the noise was impossible. She turned left, right. Faces and bodies pressed up against her, each one an indistinct mass. Irritation crawled over her skin. I’m going to fucking kill her.

  A warm, gentle hand curled around her upper arm. She took a giant step away from the male heat surrounding her. The stilettos refused to cooperate. She found herself falling backward for the second time that evening.

  The man grabbed her waist and clamped her firmly against his hard thighs. She recognized the body—her long-legged savior. A glance up confirmed it. She clutched his massive shoulders, stunned by the speed at which he’d moved and his devastating smile. His aftershave cut through the haze of smoke and booze, igniting fires down below.

  Her heart raced in time with the beat of drums, her body trembled, but overlying everything was a deep twist of desire. The man brushed against her and he was anything but disinterested.

  “Are you all right?” He skimmed his thumb over her lower back.

  “Hey, buddy, she’s with me.” McConnell and his pal, Clark, loomed up behind her rescuer. Even without her glasses, she could see they were spoiling for a fight. Body posture didn’t lie.

  The man straightened, rising to his full height, which was considerably above that of the two Marines. He turned toward them, keeping Midge clasped to his chest.

  “I think this lady has had enough of you and your drinking games.” His words were calm, measured and blunt.

  “Listen, baby,” McConnell pleaded above the ear-shattering music, “we were only kidding. Come back to the bar with us and we can get to know each other. Hands off, I promise. No more fooling around.” He swayed, a victim of his excesses.

  “Not interested.” Midge prayed her voice was firm and no telltale quiver gave away her concern. “Go away.”

  “You heard her, Marines. Leave.”

  Something in the man’s no-nonsense posture and the tone of his voice made the men pause rather than force the issue. Giving each other a look, they turned and left.

  The muscles beneath her fingertips shifted as her bearded hero faced her. “We’ll have to keep an eye out for those two. They don’t seem like they give up easily. Are you all right?”

  “I am, thanks to you. I only wanted to sit down. My feet are killing me in these blasted heels. I didn’t realize the Marines were messing with me. I feel stupid.”

  “Not stupid…in pain. And not having a good time, from what I’ve seen tonight.”

  She gave him points for being so observant. “Thank you for your help…again.”

  He smiled. “And again, my pleasure. Let’s find you a chair.”

  “I’d love that.”

  She eased her hands from his broad shoulders. Her fingertips tingled, branded with the feel of warm, taut muscles. Cupping her back, he led her to the steps.

  “I’m Ku…” He coughed. “Sorry, dry throat. It’s all this smoke. I’m Orin Davis, by the way.” His voice was soft against her ear. Shivers of delight raised over her skin.

  She smiled up at him. “I’m Midge, but you already know that.”

  His laughter rose above the noise, lifting her spirits. She loved the sound and regretted the disguise.

  Susan, with Jeremy in tow, cut them off. “We can’t leave you alone for one dance. I can see you’re going to have to be watched every second. You are helpless as a newborn kitten. What the hell happened with those guys?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about now,” Orin replied. “They won’t bother her anymore. I’ll see to that.”

  “Good. We wanna dance. I didn’t expect to have to babysit tonight.” She grabbed Jeremy’s hand and dragged him back into the crowd of writhing bodies.

  “Some friends,” Orin said.

  “I can’t call them friends,” Midge replied. “More like pests I don’t know how to get rid of.”

  “Telling them to get out works.”

  “If only it were that simple.” Thinking that made her sad. She was hating this new version of herself more and more.

  “Life’s too short to be miserable. You always have a choice where your happiness is concerned.”

  Knowing he was right didn’t make her feel any braver. Confrontation still tied her gut in knots, even when it was for her own happiness.

  “Come on. Let’s sit and have a drink.” He led her up the steps.

  “Not tequila,” she said.

  Orin laughed. “Definitely not. It always tastes like cleaning fluid to me. Wine?”

  “Red, please.”

  “And a quieter spot so we can talk without yelling.” He held out his hand when they reached the upper floor.

  Midge hesitated for a moment before slipping her fingers into his. “That would be really nice. Thanks.”

  She loved the way he interlaced their fingers as he escorted her to a dark corner booth for two. They ordered wine and talked about everyday things…safe things. All the while she built fantasies of hot, heavy, never-ending sex with him, not Kurt Davidson. She felt comfortable being with Orin, as if they were a couple.

  Midge remembered those days—and the heartbreak of being dumped. Not that she blamed Brian… Had their situations been reversed, she might have left as well. Reporting a colonel for sexual harassment had put a target on her, big time. Too many people had been ready to take her down and not the high-ranking prick at fault. It was much easier to try to shut up and intimidate a sergeant than to prosecute a colonel. She’d had two attorneys on her side. It had been a big risk for them also—two captains going against a colonel. She was forever grateful to them both and glad they’d reconnected here in Twentynine Palms. Funny how they’d
all found themselves here. Fate, some would say. Midge wasn’t sure she was a believer.

  Thinking about the past dragged all the horror to the surface, re-traumatizing her and pulling her into the pit of despair. She tried to shake off the feeling and turned her attention to the dance floor.

  “Feet up to a dance?” Orin asked.

  Midge forced herself to smile and chase the dark memories away. The music had segued into a slow song. Couples drew together. The unattached returned to their drinks.

  “I’m willing if you are,” she told him.

  Taking her hand, Orin led her to the center of the dance floor, directly under the largest twirling globe. Reflections from a thousand multicolored lights flowed over them like a rainbow of fire.

  He gathered her close, his strong hands at the small of her back. She felt their heat through her silk top. It called to her, stoking warmth throughout her body. Hesitating for a moment, she slid her hands up his chest and rested her fingers on his shoulders. His eyes were dark in the pale shadow of his face and he focused on her.

  Her heels put them near the same level and she loved the intimacy of dancing with someone close in height. She relaxed against his chest. The music rolled over them in waves of sensuous longing. Each movement of his hips brought them together, sending sharp awareness through her. Their bodies fit as if he’d been made for her. Her mind wandered to how that might translate to the bedroom, skin to skin. She tightened with want yet again. Slickness pooled between her legs. She felt his erection against her—hot and hard. Midge bit her lip, trying not to shiver with the force of her lust.

  Say something. Say anything, before you burn up in a puff of wanton desire. Damn, I’ve been reading too much romance.

  “You’re an excellent dancer.” Smooth, with no hesitation.

  “Thanks to my sister.” There was humor in his voice.

  “How so?” She glanced up. The beard cloaked his face in darkness.

  “She insisted I learn how to dance. She said men who danced well were true gentlemen. Mom agreed that women couldn’t resist a man who danced.” A hint of laughter edged his tone.

  She wasn’t wrong. Midge kept that thought to herself. “She must be proud of how well you dance now.” Midge offered another smile. “Does she live around here?”

  “No.” His response was short and flat, indicating no more questions.

  Midge stared over his shoulder, wondering if she should apologize, then she realized she’d done nothing wrong. She had buttons of her own that were off-limits. Had Orin touched on one of those, her reaction would have been the same. She felt the whisper of his breath over her cheek and glanced up. He’d maneuvered them to the edge of the dance floor and stopped.

  “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek.

  “I—”

  His lips cut off the words and stole her breath. It was a simple kiss—the mere press of his mouth on hers—yet it devastated her senses and activated all her erogenous zones. When he eased away, she tightened her hold on his shoulders and prayed he couldn’t feel her trembling.

  “Ready to head back to the table?” He skimmed his hand down to her waist and slipped his arm around her. “I’m sure your feet are feeling it.” A devilish gleam lit up his eyes. “Want me to carry you?”

  A dozen responses ran through her head, all underlined, bolded and fear-based. She tensed, ready to bolt. Orin drew back a little, no doubt feeling her unease. She struggled to pick out logical words to cover her reaction.

  “I don’t like to draw attention to myself.”

  “Sweetheart, you drew attention to yourself the second you walked into the building.”

  Midge didn’t know whether to head for the hills or melt at his feet.

  “Come on. Let’s sit.”

  Orin tucked her under his arm and led her back to their table. It looked like melting was going to win.

  She was strikingly beautiful. Those Marines hadn’t exaggerated. But if half of what Kurt had heard about her was true, she had the soul of a viper, and she’d done an excellent job of mesmerizing him. There was a familiarity about her that he couldn’t place. Yet if they’d met before, he was sure he’d remember. The red hair alone—

  A wig?

  The dim light made it impossible to tell. Even if it was, her beauty still stood out. This was a memorable woman, one who drew attention her way, whose sensuality was front and center. On the surface, nothing about her was hidden. Alone with him in this corner, she was different, somewhat shy even. It was quite a contradiction.

  He loved women with a bit of mystery about them. It was what had drawn him to his little court reporter. No. Not your court reporter.

  He tried to shake away thoughts of the unattainable Staff Sergeant Ellis, but the damage was already done. He imagined an impossible scenario where she’d release her hair from that stark bun and it would tumble over her bared, full breasts. She’d slip her glasses off, perch the stem between her lips and give him a come-fuck-me look he wouldn’t be able to refuse. His dick had been locked and loaded from the second he’d rescued Midge on the dance floor, and he’d imagined it was his staff sergeant in his arms.

  Again…not yours. And you know nothing about her.

  Kurt told his conscience to shut the fuck up. He didn’t know anything else about her, other than her first name was Michelle. It was all part of the getting-to-know-each-other stage, part of the allure of being with someone. Doing a background check on a potential date was not only bad form, it was also creepy and an invasion of privacy. Ellis wasn’t interested, period. He had to let it go. He had to stop feeding himself fantasies of her night after night, especially tonight. His focus had to be on the job.

  He had to admit that at some point he’d forgotten this wasn’t a date. Their conversation, the feel of her in his arms, her everything wove a spell around him. Then he’d done what he shouldn’t have. He’d made the first move and kissed her. Her response had been so innocent, like that expression on her heart-shaped face—too similar to the shape of Ellis’s face. He was beginning to wonder if he had the right woman. There was nothing predatory about Midge. He wondered if that was part of her allure. Yet all her victims had indicated she’d pursued them with relentless determination. None had been strong enough to refuse.

  Kurt could see that. Under normal circumstances, if Midge had made a move on him, he would have gone with it. The difference between him and her victims was that he was single and diligent about using protection. All the hot moves in the world wouldn’t make him deviate. As for sex… It had been a while. His cock didn’t care that she was an extortionist. He wanted her with a single-minded determination that had nothing to do with the case, and he blamed his lapse on fantasies of Staff Sergeant Ellis.

  In the dark you can pretend it’s her.

  Kurt mentally rolled his eyes. Already he’d screwed up with that kiss and had almost messed up by giving his real name. He had to calm down and let her make the first move. No way would he allow her to scream entrapment.

  He ordered Midge another glass of wine when they passed the server. Midge refused it, laughing.

  “I’ve had my limit for tonight.”

  She glanced up at him with smiling eyes. They were gray like a fog in the night, begging to be explored.

  “I was ready to leave the minute I got here. Now I’m glad I didn’t,” she told him.

  “Me, too.” Odd that it wasn’t his special agent voice talking.

  When they reached their table, Midge slid across the booth. Her tiny skirt creeped up, revealing black lace grazing the top of her shapely leg. His mouth went dry. He’d always loved the accessibility of thigh-high stockings and he lost his focus wanting to explore what lay in the dark shadow above the lace. His hand itched for contact. Had her action been a deliberate ploy to draw his attention? Her body language screamed innocence again. That made him want to dive in and taste her from head to toe.

  At this rate, he was going to cave
long before she made any move. He had to subtly nudge her in the direction he wanted.

  Kurt pulled her hand into his and traced the outline of her slender fingers with his thumb. She flushed and fanned her free hand against the hollow of her slim throat.

  “Would you like to step outside for a few minutes?” he asked.

  He studied her face, all curves and shadows in the half-light of the bar. There was that familiarity again. He chalked it up to having read the repeated descriptions of her. “The smoke is getting to me, and I wouldn’t mind getting some fresh air,” he added.

  She surprised him by not jumping at the opportunity. He questioned again if he had the right woman. The wig was right, but she wasn’t wearing the boots and she wasn’t aggressively pursuing him, though she did seem interested. Kurt decided to play it out. It was possible she suspected a trap.

  He laced his fingers through hers and brought her hand to his lips for a kiss. “We can stand next to the door if you feel uncomfortable being alone with me. I promise I won’t ask you to sit astride my lap.”

  She laughed, relaxed and nodded. It was a nice laugh—strong and clear—and it sank deep into his veins.

  “I could use some fresh air,” she replied.

  After retrieving their jackets from the coat check, he escorted her to the exit where they had their hands stamped with the Oasis palm tree logo that permitted reentry. Stepping outside into the cool desert air, they walked toward the row of concrete benches down from the entrance. The air was crisp and smelled of spicy desert creosote. The crescent moon rode high, a thin icy sliver in the air. All in all, a perfect night. It’d be even more perfect if he could close this case.

  They sat side by side, leaving room between them. Kurt tried to keep the conversation easy while he ferreted out information about her. He asked about her likes and dislikes in movies and food, asked if she had any pets and feigned interest in her cat. Though he tried to keep a professional distance, each minute he spent with her made him want more. Telling himself this was how she entrapped men didn’t cool his libido. He wanted her, plain and simple. He racked his brain, trying to determine if she’d somehow managed to put something in his drink. Nothing came to mind. He’d kept his drink close.