Dark Nights Dangerous Men

by Elisabeth Naughton, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright, Joan Swan

  “Get out of that bed, you lazy bum.” She leaned down and lifted his white undershirt from the floor where he’d dropped it, then tugged it over her head.

  The hem hit her almost at the knee. She looked like a little kid playing dress-up. And God, it was sexy seeing her in something of his. He slid to the end of the bed and grasped her before she could turn for the door.

  She braced her hands on his shoulders as his slipped up under the T-shirt, over the curves at her hips to her sleek ribs. “Sullivan.”

  He ignored her warning, kissed her breast through the soft cotton and felt her sigh at the gentle touch. Her scent was a mixture of clean soap and the remnants of his cologne, her skin silky smooth beneath his hands. “Eres preciosa.”

  She sighed and closed her eyes. “You don’t fight fair.”

  He smiled and moved to her other breast, loving the way she turned molten in his hands whenever he touched her. “Me pones loco.”

  She blew out a slow breath. “I’m serious. I need food before you rock my world again.” She bit her lip. “But…okay, tell me. What did you just say?”

  “I said you’re beautiful. And you drive me absolutely crazy.”

  “Oh. I…oh.”

  Speechless. He never would have thought he could reduce her to stuttering. And his chest did that weird tightening thing again.

  Oh, hell. He froze. Pete was right. This woman was doing a number on him. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be in over his head before he even realized it.

  Overwhelmed by the thought, he pushed up quickly, startling her back a step. When he saw the question in her eyes, he forced a quick grin and smoothed a hand down her shirt, dropping it back in place in what he hoped was a casual move. “I’m sure Pete had the fridge stocked. He’s good with details.”

  Her eyes cleared and searched his face with a hint of confusion. He swallowed back the urge to grab her and dive in headfirst without thinking. The only thing that stopped him was the realization that if he did, he could lose all objectivity where she was concerned.

  Until they found Tisiphone, he couldn’t let that happen. She’d tilted the playing field by coming to him in the shower, and now it was up to him to make sure they stayed on even ground. She hadn’t been thinking about tomorrow or next week when she’d made her move. She’d been thinking about the here and now and the sexual tension that had been building between them since Milan.

  That’s what he needed to think about, too. Not the fact one night with her would never be enough. Not the fact he could easily see her sliding into his life in a more permanent way. Not the fact his heart was damn near tripping over itself while he looked at her.

  “Rafe?”

  Her soft voice brought him back around. He blinked twice.

  “Are you okay? You look kind of…funny.”

  He ran a hand over his face. Funny was an understatement. “Just tired. And I think my blood sugar’s a little low, too.” Was his voice shaking? Holy hell.

  He coughed. “Why don’t you head down? I’m just going to grab my pants from the bathroom.”

  “Okay.” Curiosity lingered in her eyes, but she turned for the door and disappeared without another word.

  Alone, he pressed a hand against his heart, closed his eyes and sank to end of the bed before his legs gave out. So much for even ground. He was up to his eyeballs in quicksand.

  ***

  Lisa stood at the open refrigerator staring into a cavern of food, but she didn’t see any of it. All she saw was Rafe’s bewildered face as he’d looked down at her moments ago.

  She’d seen that look before. Hell, she’d given that look before. Just before her world had turned to crap.

  She tamped down the jolt of panic that threatened to seize her chest. Okay, she’d read him wrong, that’s all. She was tired and hungry and wasted on the most incredible sex she’d had in…well, forever. Not to mention she was operating on an estrogen binge. It was no wonder her emotions were hovering at the edge. That didn’t mean what she’d seen on his face meant anything at all.

  Because, dammit, he hadn’t just looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time. And seeing her that way hadn’t, hadn’t scared him shitless.

  “Find anything?”

  The sound of his husky voice made her breath catch. She turned slowly, almost afraid to look in his dark eyes again. But when she did, the dazed look was gone and that lazy one was back.

  He shot her a lopsided grin and reached around her into the fridge. “Thank you, Pete.” He held up a package of steaks. “How hungry are you?”

  Suddenly famished. She’d totally misread things upstairs. A relieved smile curled her mouth. “Very.”

  “Good. See if you can find makings for a salad in there. I’ll put these on this massive grill.”

  He moved to the industrial-sized stainless-steel stove and started the grill while she rummaged through the fridge. She pulled out lettuce, tomatoes and feta cheese. He handed her a knife from the butcher block and pointed toward the cutting board as he moved across the room. “Feel like some wine?”

  The quiver she’d heard in his voice upstairs was gone too. Definitely misread that whole moment. The knowledge calmed her.

  “I don’t know,” she said as she arranged her vegetables. “Are you planning on drugging me again?”

  He reached into a wine cupboard and pulled out a bottle of red. “Depends, smartass. Do I get to have my way with you?”

  “I think you already did, Slick.”

  His smile was pure victory, and God, it was sexy. He was wearing only low slung denim jeans, his hard abs glistening in the low light, chest broad and muscular. Dark stubble graced his jaw, his hair was mussed, his eyes sleepy. And watching him, she had a quick flash of his determined features when he’d had her pinned against the shower wall. Felt, all too well, her muscles clench at the sultry memory.

  Bottle in hand, he crossed to the enormous sliding door that occupied one whole wall in the adjacent breakfast nook and slid it open. Water lapped at the beach just outside as moonlight glinted off its smooth surface. Crickets chirped, and off in the distance a seagull cried.

  If he was trying to seduce her, it was working. The moonlight, the atmosphere, the sex fuzz still on her brain—it was all doing a number on her system.

  He moved with grace, like a man completely at ease in a kitchen. She watched as he uncorked the bottle, poured ruby red liquid into two glasses and set one in front of her. Before he stepped back to the grill, he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck that sent tingles all along her spine.

  She lifted her wine to take a long swallow and calm her jangling nerves. Oh, boy. She was in trouble here. He didn’t know what he was doing to her just by being him.

  Clearing her throat, she went back to chopping and tried to refocus. “You seem pretty comfortable in this kitchen. Been here a lot?”

  “A few times with Pete.”

  Now why did that comment make her suddenly feel jealous? Oh, right. Because Pete’s sister was a model, that’s why.

  She chopped a little faster, hating that she had these idiotic tendencies where he was concerned. Irrational. Insane. Definitely not her.

  “Lauren’s not really my type,” he said as if he’d read her mind. “The few times I was here with Pete for parties, we hung out in the kitchen away from the crowd.”

  God, she was a complete idiot, and he knew it. Heat seared her cheeks, and she felt his gaze but refused to look at him. “Lauren…” And then it hit her. She glanced up with wide eyes. “Lauren Kauffman is Pete’s sister? The supermodel who does all those lingerie ads?”

  He nodded.

  “You mean to tell me blond and stacked isn’t your type? I don’t buy that one. I met your wife, remember?”

  He looked back at the grill and flipped the steaks. “Ex-wife. And no. Stacked is fine, but blond and bitchy doesn’t do it for me.”

  She resumed her chopping. “I see. Red and snarky’s a whole lot better.”

 
“Lately? Yeah.”

  The surprise in his voice made her glance up again. He didn’t look her way, simply shook salt over the meat with a bewildered expression on his face.

  And her stomach knotted all over again.

  Determined not to touch that one, she filled a salad bowl with greens and tomatoes. She sprinkled feta over the top, added a splash of balsamic vinaigrette and took the salad to the table in the breakfast nook, where she found plates and utensils to set the table. When she discovered a drawer with candles, she thought about adding them to the arrangement and then quickly changed her mind. Already enough distractions going on here. She didn’t need to bolster the mood.

  She slid onto a stool at the counter with her wine while he finished working the grill, and searched her mind for a neutral topic that wasn’t too personal. “So Pete seemed pretty nice.”

  “Yeah, he is. We’ve been friends a long time.”

  “How did you two end up working together?”

  He turned the fire down, flipped the steaks again. “We were college roommates freshman year at Florida State. After graduation, I joined the Navy, he opened a gallery in Miami. When I got out, he hooked me up with a job.”

  He’d been in the Navy? That was news. “Just like that?”

  He shrugged, and she sensed there was more to it, but didn’t push.

  She lifted her glass and took a sip. “So does this gallery have a name?”

  “Odyssey.”

  She paused, glass midway to the counter. “The Odyssey Gallery? In Miami? Are you serious?”

  He nodded but didn’t look her direction.

  She didn’t know quite what to say. This little bit of info shocked her. No, it floored her. “They’re big. I mean, well respected. And you worked for him?”

  “Hard to believe, huh?”

  His tone made her realize she’d just insulted him. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant it’s hard to believe someone like you would work for such a big…” No, that was coming out wrong. “What I meant is that I just never expected a gallery like that would be involved with…” Oh, crap. She was making it worse. Heat burned her cheeks. “Not to say that you don’t…”

  Humor ran across his features when he glanced up. “It’s okay, Lisa.”

  Mortified, she brushed a hand over her hair. Holy cow, she was saying everything wrong tonight. She took a deep drink of her wine.

  “The gallery’s on the up-and-up now,” he said. “For the most part. I’ll be the first to admit, it wasn’t for quite a while, but about six years ago Pete changed things up.”

  “Why?”

  Rafe shrugged. “Personal reasons.”

  She was curious what those personal reasons were, but more curious about Rafe’s involvement. “So what did you do?”

  “My job was to track down rare pieces clients were specifically looking for. Nine times out of ten, if a piece was in an owner’s collection, we negotiated for a fair price.”

  “And what about the other 10 percent?”

  “The rest of the time we convinced the collectors that considering our offer was a smart investment. That nothing in life was guaranteed.”

  Her eyes narrowed with understanding. “You stole it from them.”

  “Sometimes.” He went back to his steaks like it was no big deal. “We never went for pieces that were worth a lot of money or would be missed. In fact, in every instance it was a froufrou collector who couldn’t have cared less about the piece in question but enjoyed the power of saying no. Art’s only valuable if someone else wants it.”

  Except in her case.

  He shrugged again and slipped one hand in his pocket. “We always overcompensated the collector with either a piece from our own collection more valuable than the first or through donations to their charity of choice that netted them prestige in their social circles. Ultimately, that’s all they cared about.”

  “So you’re telling me you’re an honest thief? Did they know about this?”

  He chuckled. “No. Not specifically. But trust me. They got what they wanted. In the end, everyone was happy.”

  “Hmm.” She studied him, trying to make sense of a world that was completely foreign to her. The pieces she uncovered in her work went to museums, universities and occasionally private collections, depending on the muscle funding a dig. But the world he described, the one of art for money, wasn’t something she had much background in. “Compensation, huh? No one’s compensated me for my piece.”

  “I’m not done with you yet, Querida.”

  She was starting to get a better idea of how things worked, and suddenly didn’t like it. “I see.”

  He darted a quick look her direction, any hint of humor long gone. “What happened between us upstairs had nothing to do with the Furies, Lisa. That was strictly personal, between you and me and nobody else. That’s not the kind of compensation I was talking about.”

  She could tell by the seriousness of his voice and the intensity in his eyes he was telling the truth. Hating that the thought had even crossed her mind, she glanced away.

  He went back to the grill, and an uncomfortable silence filled the room, one she wanted to break. She propped her elbow on the counter, rested her chin on her hand and tried to lighten the mood. “So, aside from your career choice, Sullivan, let me see if I’ve got this straight. You cook, love your mother and are phenomenal in the sack. So why are you still single? Did you get burned by love?”

  That sexy grin pulled at his mouth again as he lifted the steaks to a plate and turned off the grill. “Phenomenal, huh? I’ll have to remember that.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  He brought the steaks to the table and gestured for her to join him.

  They sat, and he spooned salad on her plate. The ceiling fan turned lazy circles above. “Why don’t you ask what you really want to know?” When she looked up, he lifted his eyebrows. “You’re wondering why I’m divorced.”

  The thought had crossed her mind a few thousand times. Especially every time she thought about the drop-dead gorgeous cop that was his ex. She lifted her fork and took a bite to keep from asking.

  “Hailey and I never should have gotten married,” he volunteered as he cut into his steak.

  “Why not?” The question was out before she could stop it. Before she could remind herself discussing personal topics was treading on squishy ground.

  He swallowed a bite. “Because we didn’t love each other.”

  Interesting. “So why did you get married, then?”

  He leaned back and took a sip of his wine. “We dated, and one weekend we got this bright idea to take a weekend trip to Vegas. Ended up having too much to drink and wound up in one of those cheesy chapels, the ones you see on TV.” He shook his head and looked into his wine as if thinking back. “Anyway, let’s just say alcohol makes you do some pretty stupid stuff sometimes.”

  “Why didn’t you have it annulled then? People do that all the time, don’t they?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Neither of us was getting any younger, we weren’t involved with anyone else, and we liked each other, so we decided to give it a go.” He looked up. “Bad idea. We both knew a week later it was a mistake. Hailey’s got her own reasons why she stuck it out for six months.”

  “And why did you stick it out?”

  He looked out at the water and didn’t answer. She sensed there was so much in him she didn’t know. Wondered if she ever would. What kind of man stays married to a woman he knows he’s not in love with?

  And then she knew. He had that same soft look across his features she’d seen at the hospital.

  The kind of man who was trying to please someone else. The kind of man who would put his own needs aside to make someone else happy. Someone he thought wouldn’t be around much longer.

  Her chest squeezed tight.

  When he looked back at her, the ghosts were gone from his eyes. He forced a grin. “So aside from your career cho
ice, Querida, let me see if I’ve got this straight.” His tone lightened. “You’re smart, sexy as hell, and amazing between the sheets. So how come you’re still single? Did you get burned by love?”

  The smile teasing her lips instantly faded. “I don’t believe in love.”

  “No?”

  She shook her head, refusing to go down that road with him tonight. Ever, if she could help it.

  His eyes narrowed. “What do you believe in?”

  “Anything tangible.”

  “Like what?”

  She didn’t want to talk anymore. Talking would only get her in trouble, take her places she didn’t want to go. For one night, she just wanted to forget about Doug and the Furies and everything that had happened in her life to get her to this point.

  Her appetite slid to the wayside. Intent on distracting him, she pushed back from the table and closed the distance between them by slithering onto his lap. “Like this.”

  Her lips captured his. She felt the questions in his tense muscles, in his cautious kiss. But he didn’t push, didn’t ask. Instead he framed her face with his hands and opened to her mouth, taking her exactly where she wanted to go.

  Away. For as long or short as this wild ride lasted.

  In the morning she’d figure out how to be the tough-as-nails archaeologist he’d partnered with. Tonight she just wanted to be a woman without a past.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Shane popped open his Tic Tacs and shook three into his hand as he ducked under the crime-scene tape surrounding the ritzy Chicago mansion. Darkness pressed in, but patrol lights illuminated the quiet neighborhood, reminding him shitty things happen even in nice-looking places.

  He flashed his badge and made his way up the front steps and into the house. A myriad of officers moved through the massive entry and first level. Shane pulled gloves from his jacket pocket as he headed up the curved staircase where his partner for the past two years, Tony Chen, was waiting.

  Tony was second-generation Asian-American, tall and slim, with dark hair and the weirdest light eyes, which unnerved almost every suspect. When Shane stepped through the open office door, Tony glanced up. “About time you got here, Maxwell.” He gave Shane the once-over and then went back to the sketch of the scene he was creating. “You look like crap. Hot date?”