Need Me

by Cynthia Eden

  A soft hand touched his shoulder.

  Swearing, he whirled around.

  Julianna was there. Her face had been scrubbed clean of make-up. Her hair was wet, falling to her shoulders and brushing over the white, terry-cloth robe that she wore. His robe.

  He hadn’t even realized how much time had passed. When he started working, he tended to get lost and with this case—

  “Digging up all my dirty secrets?”

  He hadn’t heard her walking across the room. He should have heard her. He glanced down, automatically, and saw her red toenails.

  Were toes supposed to be sexy? Shit, but he had to get his act together with this woman. His gaze shot back to her face.

  “You could ask me,” Julianna continued, giving a slow shake of her head. “Instead of just digging and assuming that I’d lie to you.”

  Right. Just ask. “Who’s your lover?”

  She blinked at him.

  She’d been beautiful with her makeup, it had given her a sophisticated, polished air. Without it, she looked more vulnerable, a bit younger…and still too sexy. Devlin realized that when Julianna was around, he thought with his dick far too much.

  “I don’t have a lover.”

  Lie. He sighed. “Come on. I thought you weren’t going to lie.”

  “I’m not lying.” Her hands slid into the pockets of the robe. “I don’t have a lover.”

  “Your husband has been dead and buried for seven months—”

  She flinched at that.

  “And you haven’t been with anyone since he died? A woman like you? You expect me to believe that?”

  Julianna backed up a step. “A woman like me? Just what kind of woman am I?”

  A woman who made him think of sin and silk sheets. Of soft moans and hot sex. He cleared his throat and very wisely decided not to tell her that. “Multiple witnesses reported that your husband believed you’d been having an affair. There were public arguments—”

  “Right.” She cut him off, her voice clipped. “There were plenty of arguments. Because if my dress was cut too low or if it was too tight, Jeremy thought I was trying to seduce every man in the room. If I went out for a jog and didn’t come back within twenty minutes, he was sure I’d met a lover. He hired several PIs—but they all told him the same thing, I wasn’t cheating.”

  He waited.

  “I couldn’t cheat, even if I’d wanted to. He was always watching or he always had someone watching me.” Her face paled and her gaze seemed to see the past. “I’m not going to jail, because I’ve already been a prisoner. His prisoner. He controlled my life, and I hated him for it.”

  Devlin had suspected something like this. “He abused you.”

  Julianna’s gaze sharpened on him. “That wouldn’t make sense. He wanted me to be his perfect wife, perfect all the time. If I had bruises or broken bones, how could I be perfect?” There was something in her voice—a hitch—that made him think she was lying again.

  He didn’t want lies between them. “You hated him, so why didn’t you leave him?” But Devlin already thought he knew the answer. Money. The number one motivator for—

  “Stop it.” Now anger bit in her voice. “You think I don’t know what you’re thinking?” Then she shot forward and jammed her finger into his chest. “You’re thinking that I’m some slut who had her eyes on the prize. That I married Jeremy for his money and that I stayed with him—stayed in that hell—because I wanted the cash he’d give to me.”

  “That’s a story I’ve heard before,” he replied bluntly. She wouldn’t be the first woman to make a trade like that. Not the first woman or man.

  “It’s not my story.”

  She still had her finger jabbing into his chest. He lifted a brow. “Why don’t you tell me your story?”

  “I thought I loved him.”

  Devlin’s whole body tensed.

  “What? You think I’m too mercenary for that? Too cold? It’s the truth, okay? I was working for Jeremy, in his PR department. I didn’t want to date the boss, I didn’t want that kind of reputation, but he…courted me.” Her finger slid away. Her shoulders rolled back as she straightened her spine. “And in the beginning, it was nice. Flowers. Dinners. He made me feel special. Like I mattered to him.” Her smile was bittersweet. “I hadn’t exactly felt that way a lot.”

  Why the fuck not?

  “It was a whirlwind courtship and marriage. I should have slowed down. I should have played it safe. But I’d been playing things safe my whole life, and I took a chance.” She shook her head. “I realized my mistake soon enough. When your husband starts screaming at you because you make the mistake of glancing at a handsome man on the street, you know something is wrong.”

  He waited. She didn’t say anything else. “But you stayed…”

  “He had power. Money.”

  Right. They were back to—

  “He made sure I didn’t have either. I had no access to our checking account or our savings account, and he had his flunkies transfer all of my own assets over to him the minute I said, ‘I do’. I told you already, it got to the point where I couldn’t go anywhere without him watching me—or without one of his guards there to follow my every step. I was his prisoner. Another acquisition that he’d wanted, and now that he had me, Jeremy had no intention of letting me go.”

  Anger and fear—he could see those emotions on her face and hear them in her voice. Devlin ran his hand across the stubble that lined his jaw. “I can’t help you if you just lie to me.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. The top of the robe parted a bit, revealing her creamy skin and the swell of her breasts. “I’m not lying!”

  “Yes, you are.” He jerked his thumb toward the computer. “One of the first things I did was access your medical reports.”

  She paled.

  “Two days after your wedding, you broke your right wrist.”

  “I fell.”

  “It was shattered. According to the report, the injury was consistent with your wrist being slammed in a door.”

  Her long lashes flickered.

  “Did you try to get away from him then?” Devlin asked, his own anger growing because of the pain that she’d been through. “You’re a smart woman. I bet you were ready to cut and run once he dropped his charming mask, but something stopped you that day. He stopped you, right?”

  “Is that what you want to hear?” Julianna turned from him and paced to the window. “That I realized I’d made a huge mistake? That I ran to my car, jumped inside and tried to get away from him?” Her soft sigh slipped back to him. “That Jeremy yanked me out of the car and when I fought him, he slammed the car door shut on my wrist?”

  His hands fisted. Fury burned in his blood.

  “Why the hell would I have stayed with him if he did that to me?” Julianna asked. “I would have run, money or no damn money.”

  He stalked toward her. “Maybe there was a reason you couldn’t go.”

  She turned to look back at him.

  “Tell me everything, Julianna. Tell me or I won’t be able to do my job.”

  Her lower lip trembled, but she quickly pressed her lips together, stopping that tell-tale movement. Moments ticked by in silence.

  “Tell me,” Devlin urged again. There had to be something there. Yes, she’d hated her husband—that was obvious. Jeremy cutting off her money would have slowed her down, but if she wanted to get away…

  “Sometimes, the only way out is death.”

  “No.” Devlin was the one to reach out to her then, but he made sure to keep his grip gentle as his fingers curled around her shoulders. “There are other options. Death isn’t an escape. It’s just the easy way.”

  She laughed at him. “There’s nothing easy about it.”

  His eyes narrowed on her. They were so close now. Close enough for him to easily see the gold flecks in her eyes. Close enough to kiss.

  If he’d wanted to kiss her.

  If she’d wanted to kiss him.

&nbs
p; “What did he have on you?” Devlin murmured.

  And there it was. Her pupils expanded. Her delicate nostrils flared. Devlin knew he’d struck gold. “He blackmailed you into staying with him, didn’t he?” Devlin pushed. “You said it wasn’t the money, so it had to be something else. Tell me. What did he have on you?”

  “I’m done talking for tonight.” She tried to pull away.

  Keeping his hold gentle, but firm, he didn’t let her go. “I’m not done with you. Tell me your secrets, Julianna…or I’ll discover them on my own. After all, you’re the one who said I should just ask you. I’m asking. Will you be telling?”

  Her gaze searched his. He waited, wondering what she could have done that would have been so terrible that she’d stayed with that bastard. Stayed in his house and his bed and—

  Julianna leaned toward him. She rose onto her tip toes, and she kissed him. He hadn’t been expecting that move from her. He’d fantasized about it, sure, but Devlin hadn’t anticipated she’d actually kiss him.

  But he wasn’t a fool. If Julianna wanted to kiss him, then who the hell was he to argue?

  He leaned down, leaned closer, and put his arms around her. She was small, delicate, while he was the exact opposite. Devlin topped out at a few inches past six feet, and he was well aware of the strength in his body. Strength he used carefully, with her. Devlin picked her up, holding her easily and her mouth pulled back from his in surprise.

  “What are you—” Julianna began.

  “You started this,” Devlin growled back. “I’ll finish it.” Then he pressed her back against the nearest wall. He held her there, easily, and he kissed her again.

  Her lips were parted. Moist. And when his tongue stroked into her mouth, her taste made him feel a little drunk. Sweet but rich.

  And she was kissing him back. Not hesitantly, but fully, moving her lips and her tongue against him, and Devlin’s cock swelled against the front of his jeans. He didn’t know what game she was playing right then, and he actually didn’t care.

  He just wanted her to keep playing it.

  Her robe had come loose a bit at the top, and he wanted to shove that robe out of the way. He wanted to put his hands on her breasts and feel her nipples against his palms.

  But he kept kissing her. Hot and hard. Thrusting his tongue past her lips, and when she arched toward him, desire pounded through his veins. Her legs rose and wrapped around his hips. Her nails sank into his upper arms. She pulled him closer, and closer was exactly where he wanted to be.

  His mouth slid from hers, but only so he could kiss a hot path down her neck. She shivered against him. He used the edge of his teeth, lightly scoring her flesh. Was she completely naked beneath that robe? He was going to find out. He’d strip her and then—

  “Stop.”

  Devlin blinked. He really, really hoped he’d misheard her.

  But Julianna’s hands were pushing at him now and her legs had slid away from his hips. “Let me go, now.”

  Jaw locking, he did. And Devlin stepped back so he wouldn’t give in to the urge to grab her again and pick up exactly where he’d just left off.

  Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes glittered. “That was a mistake.”

  His spine shot up. “You’re the one who kissed me.” And he knew exactly why she’d done it. To stop his questions. To distract him.

  Consider that a successful distraction. He didn’t want to question her anymore. Fuck her? Most definitely, yes.

  “It was my mistake.” She edged away from him. Her hands quickly adjusted the robe for maximum coverage. “I didn’t expect that.”

  Now she had made him curious. Eyes narrowing, cock aching, temper rising, Devlin asked, “What, exactly, didn’t you expect?”

  Her lashes lowered. She stopped adjusting the robe. “I didn’t expect to want you that much, not from just a kiss.”

  Every muscle in his body locked down. “Baby, you should be careful saying things like that to me.”

  Her lashes lifted. Her gaze met his. “It was my mistake,” she said again, and she turned for the door. “I won’t be repeating it.”

  Oh, but I hope you do.

  She stopped at the door, her hands on the wooden frame. “Where do I sleep tonight?’

  “The guest room is down the hall. Third door on the left.”

  She nodded, but then she glanced back. “And where will you be?”

  “I’ll be in the room right—”

  A hard pounding on his front door stopped Devlin’s words. Frowning now, he hurried toward her. His penthouse was private—for a damn good reason. He wasn’t the type to want uninvited visitors. And no one but his partners at VJS—Chance Valentine and Lex Jensen—were ever to be let up to his home without an announcement. His doormen knew that rule.

  So who was pounding at his door?

  “Devlin?” Julianna sounded worried. “You expecting someone?”

  No, not that late. It was nearing midnight. Definitely not the time for any other guests—wanted or unwanted. Shaking his head, he hurried past her and went to the main door. He glanced through his peephole, and when he saw who was on the other side of the door, tension coiled in his body. Devlin opened the door.

  Detective Faith Chestang stood on his threshold. She wore a no-nonsense suit, and her badge was clipped to her belt. Her hair was combed away from her face, and her determined expression said she meant business. Faith was an attractive woman, an African American in her early thirties, and a general force to be reckoned with.

  “I tried to keep her downstairs, sir,” Peter Close, the doorman said quickly, “but—”

  Faith sighed, cutting through his words. “But I’m a cop and my badge gets me in all kinds of places.” She lifted her dark brows. “It’s about to get me inside this fancy penthouse of yours right now.”

  Devlin moved, blocking the entrance. “Unless you have some kind of warrant, it’s not.”

  She smiled at him. He didn’t know her as well as Chance did, but Chance had told him that Faith was a good cop, one he could trust.

  Devlin didn’t exactly trust many cops.

  “I need to see Julianna,” Faith said flatly.

  “And you think she’s here?”

  Faith glanced over his shoulder. “Yes, I think she’s about five feet behind you, wearing your robe.” She gave a little whistle. “Cozy. I didn’t expect that.”

  Swearing, Devlin whirled around. Sure enough, Julianna was there. What was up with the woman’s silent moving? If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she’d had some kind of special training. Chance and Lex both could take silent steps like that, to sneak up on their prey, but those guys were ex-military.

  “I need you to come with me, Julianna,” Faith said.

  “Why?” Devlin’s question, not Julianna’s. Julianna hadn’t moved.

  “Because there’s been another murder,” Faith said, her delicate jaw hardening a bit. “And I’m afraid Julianna is tied to this one, too.”

  Devlin took a step back, clearing the path so that the cop could make direct eye contact with his new client.

  Faith stared at Julianna. “People sure do have a habit of dying around you.” Her gaze slanted to Devlin. “If I were you, I’d be very careful. Men who sleep with Julianna tend to wind up dead.”

  Julianna surged forward. “Who’s the victim?”

  Faith was watching her, the way a hungry spider might watch a fly. “Your lover.”

  Julianna told me she didn’t have a lover.

  “Th-that’s not possible,” Julianna said, her voice breaking. “I don’t have a lover.”

  Faith gave her a long look. One that took in the robe Julianna was wearing and Julianna’s swollen, red lips. “It looks to me like you may have more than one.” Suspicion was in her drawl.

  “I don’t,” Julianna hotly denied.

  “That’s not what the photographs say.” Faith put her hands on her hips. “Now we can do this easy or hard. If you want me to lead you out in cuff
s—again—I can do that.”

  “No.” Julianna’s voice was hushed. “Just, let me change, all right? I’ll be right back.” Then she turned and fled down the hallway.

  Devlin didn’t speak until she was gone. “Who is he,” he asked, voice lethally soft, “and how did he die?”

  Faith laughed, but the sound held no humor. “Seeing as how you’re supposed to be so good at investigating, I would’ve thought that you’d do a little more research on your own lovers.”

  “She’s not my lover.” Not yet. But he sure wanted her.

  Faith pointed at him. “Consider yourself lucky that I arrived. Men who fall for Julianna have a tendency to end up in a pool of blood.”

  Not the best visual. “Who is he?” Because Julianna had seemed so sincere when she’d told him that there was no one else.

  Right before she’d kissed him.

  What the hell? Am I going soft? Since when did he let a pair of warm, brown eyes trick him? Obviously, she’d been trying to seduce him and stop his questions. He got that. But…

  I still believed her when she said there was no one else.

  Anger, this time directed at Julianna, began to simmer within him.

  Faith cocked her head as she studied him. “Come down to the station and see for yourself.”

  Shit. She wasn’t going to give him anything else, at least not right then. The sound of Julianna’s footsteps reached him, a fast clatter. She hurried toward the detective. “I-I need to call Sophie,” she said quickly.

  Sophie Sarantos—her defense attorney.

  He caught her hand. Pulled her close. To Faith, it probably looked as if he were embracing Julianna, but he wasn’t making that mistake. “Yeah, you’d fucking better, baby.” Because two dead lovers wasn’t good. “And don’t ever lie to me again.”

  Her breath caught and she pulled back, just enough to look into his eyes. “I didn’t.”

  He shook his head. Her breathing was too fast. Her gaze sliding away from his. And her voice trembled. All dead giveaways for deceit. “Bullshit.” But they’d deal with her lies…they’d deal with the mess of this case…as soon as he figured out just who the dead man was.

  Chapter Three