Winning Moves

by Lisa Renee Jones

  He inched forward, still kneeling, now so close he could lean in and be touching her. She wanted him, too. Almost as much as she wanted to reach out and feel the silky strands of his hair.

  He offered her his palm, but the invitation of more sizzled in the air. “Dance?”

  Her gaze dropped to his hand. A strong hand with long fingers. A hand that could be gentle and forceful. A hand that could deliver both pleasure and pain. And for the briefest of moments, she wondered what his hands would feel like on her body. Relax, she told herself. Enjoy this brief interlude. Enjoy.

  “No name?” she asked, a playful note in her voice matching how she was feeling. “No introduction? Just straight to the dance floor?”

  His hand settled on his leg and her gaze followed, a quick summation of his appearance in progress. Black boots, black slacks. Her eyes traveled, heart racing as her attention skimmed his midsection, his zipper. She swallowed hard and jerked her attention upward, away from the temptation, to his matching V-neck sweater that stretched snugly over a nice, broad chest. He was nothing like the men in her world in their conservative suits and ties, and she liked it. She liked it a lot.

  Suddenly, his cheek was next to hers, the warmth of his body surrounding her. “The name is Constantine,” he whispered seductively, drawing her attention back to his face. To the dimple in his chin and his dark, mesmerizing eyes. He offered his hand again. “Now we dance?”

  She should say no. She didn’t have time for sex games and drama. She’d seen what they did to her ex and had almost done to her. How they distorted perceptions, shifted priorities. But then, this was nothing more than a simple dance, a fun diversion that meant nothing. It was crazy to think she couldn’t have a little enjoyment without losing touch with reality.

  Nicole slid her palm against Constantine’s, suppressing a shiver as he closed long, sensual fingers around hers. “Now we dance,” she declared.

  2

  NICOLE WARD made him hot. Plain and simple. Far more than he’d expected at a distance.

  And with her soft curves pressed against his body, swaying to the rhythmic beat of a slow song, dangerously hot possibilities played in his mind. To say he was aroused would be an understatement. He was aroused all right, cock stiff, hands burning for exploration.

  She was a petite little thing, and his chin easily rested on her head; he inhaled the floral scent of her hair. Jasmine, he decided, with just a hint of vanilla. Would her skin smell like that, too?

  Suddenly, the dance floor was far too crowded. Bending at the knees, he nuzzled her neck and ear, and then whispered, “Let’s go to the lobby bar where we can…talk.”

  She flexed her fingers on his chest and then tilted her chin up to look at him, her eyes probing, intent. Finally, she eyed the table she’d been sharing with her sister. Following her lead, he eased her around for a better view, still working with the flow of the music.

  Table confirmed empty, Brenda nowhere to be found, Nicole pushed to her toes, whispering in his ear, as he had hers. “Just talk, right?” she asked, easing back onto the balls of her feet to look into his face, her eyes probing his. Hesitation fanned her delicate features.

  He’d asked her to the bar, not to bed, though he’d prefer the latter. A warning went off in his head—the bold attorney who charged at a drug lord was hiding from him. Why? Suspicion flared. What was she afraid of? Her own secrets? Someone else’s?

  Concerned he might spook her if he pushed, he winked, and held up two fingers. He needed to get past her walls, to reassure himself of her innocence. “Just talk. Scout’s honor.”

  She let her brow inch upward as if she didn’t trust his vow. He laughed. “Okay, so I was never a Scout,” Constantine admitted. “I thought about it, though. Does that count?”

  “Not really,” she said, her expression serious. Then, she smiled, the tension from moments before fading. “But I’ll accept it anyway.”

  She had a beautiful smile, he realized. One he’d seen rarely in the past few days of watching her. Why was that? He found himself determined to find out. Protectiveness flared in him. He told himself it was duty, honor. Nothing more. Taking her hand, he led her through the crowd. They cleared the exit and stepped into the modern-looking lobby. Abstract paintings filled the walls with splashes of red to accent the matching chairs.

  Constantine turned to face Nicole, startled by what he found. Light illuminated Nicole’s ivory skin and deep blue eyes. A cute pointed chin and heartshaped face spoke more of an angel than the tough-edged prosecutor she showed the world.

  His gaze dropped to her red-stained lips. Red that said, kiss me. He wanted to kiss her. No. He wanted to take her to his room and lick every inch of her body. Which wasn’t an option. That would be going way over the line, and he knew it.

  “You didn’t tell me your name,” he said, hating the charade he had to play. He lied in his world all the time, as part of his job, his cover. But Nicole wasn’t like the criminals he locked away. He’d have to face that later…along with his lies. Though what options did he have? He had to evaluate her, to do his best to know she wasn’t compromised by Alvarez’s influence before he revealed his identity. His life depended on it.

  “I guess I didn’t tell you my name,” she said, smiling again. “But then I don’t remember you asking.”

  “I’m asking now,” Constantine said, his brow inching upward when she didn’t immediately answer. “Is it a secret?”

  “Nicole! There you are!” Constantine turned to see Brenda rushing forward, an athletic-looking guy by her side. Constantine eyed Nicole. “It’s not a secret anymore,” he said, flashing her a grin. “Nicole.”

  She laughed and focused on her sister. “I was just getting some air.”

  Brenda detached herself from her man and went to Nicole’s side, giving Constantine a blatant once-over. “I see why.” Still inspecting Constantine, she said to Nicole, “I’m headed out.” She dragged her gaze back to her sister’s. “Looks like you don’t need me.”

  Constantine couldn’t believe his luck. With Brenda out of the picture, he would have Nicole all to himself.

  Unfortunately, Nicole didn’t seem to share his opinion. She snagged her sister’s arm and eyed Constantine. “This is my sister, Brenda, and we need to talk.” She held up a finger. “Be right back.”

  Constantine exchanged a quick glance with Brenda’s date for the night, a guy who looked barely old enough to be inside the bar. They both shrugged and turned their attention to the ladies.

  Constantine noted the stern look on Nicole’s face and knew what she was saying to Brenda. She was warning her to be careful about strangers. Constantine agreed, and couldn’t help but think well of Nicole for being so caring.

  Nicole’s expression turned softer, and Constantine saw her transform from tough older sister to a nurturing one, reaching out and brushing hair from Brenda’s eyes before planting a kiss on her forehead.

  His chest tightened at the display, an old emotion he’d thought buried flaring inside him—the pain of losing his younger brother a year before. He had died in the line of duty, killed by a perp who’d gotten off on a technicality. Constantine had been undercover with Alvarez then or he’d have seen justice done.

  Facing his loss and the failure of the system, Constantine had wondered at his own career choices, and the price they demanded. He shoved away the thought as Nicole and Brenda approached, clearly done with their talk.

  A few mumbled goodbyes later, Constantine and Nicole stood alone again, except that Nicole’s mood had shifted to one of retreat, not surrender, her arms crossed protectively in front of her body.

  “I, ah, better go, too,” she said. “I have to work tomorrow.”

  Constantine narrowed his gaze on her, knowing he couldn’t allow her to leave, not until he knew more about her. But there was a deeper reason, one he felt on a personal level.

  He glanced at his watch. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.”

  “I still have to work.” />
  “Have one drink with me,” he offered. “I’m only here for the night. We won’t get another chance.”

  The words lingered between them, true in more ways than she could possibly know, heavy with the implications they held. Her lashes fluttered, shielding her eyes from his view. He could almost feel her internal struggle. Almost taste her desire.

  “One drink,” she finally agreed, fixing him with a smoldering hot stare. A stare that told him he could have more than a drink.

  And Lord help him, he wanted more. This night could end only one of two ways. If she were on Alvarez’s payroll, he’d have her naked in all of two heartbeats. But if she weren’t working with Alvarez, which he strongly suspected to be the case, he’d be taking one hell of a long, cold shower.

  * * *

  SLIDING INTO THE corner booth of the deserted lounge area, Nicole felt the flutter of anticipation in her stomach as Constantine settled in beside her.

  “Tequila Sunrise?” he asked, flagging the waitress, who quickly found her way to the table.

  Nicole nodded, surprised he’d noticed her drink, but pleased. Pleased to the point of feeling…aroused. Actually, everything about the man did that to her.

  He ordered the drinks, and Nicole studied him. He had a strong profile, a straight nose, a solid set to his jaw that spoke of confidence, full lips meant for kissing. Her gaze slid to his hands. What was it about his hands? Strong with long fingers.

  It had been forever since she’d had this kind of reaction to a man, and she wondered, why now? Why this man? Not that he wasn’t hot. He was. In fact, his body, his good looks, all but screamed “sex.” Still, she’d met plenty of good-looking guys. Until this man, though, she’d felt pretty darn cold. Really, truthfully, work had ruled her world, and she liked it that way. It was safe, free of emotional baggage, free of distractions.

  Nicole let a slow trickle of air slide past her lips as her eyes settled on the candle flickering in the center of the table. She didn’t know the answers. What she did know was that when a man could make a woman burn without even trying, she’d be in trouble when he turned up the heat. Maybe it was the setting. Or maybe her body was rebelling against the complete lack of male attention she’d imposed on it ever since her divorce.

  She’d left her past behind, and sex had been a part of it. A part of the greed that had led her into a dark place she didn’t want to go back to. Her stomach clenched as she thought of the case that had changed her life. Of the murderer she’d gotten off only to see him kill again. It had been a wake-up call beyond her years—a crime in and of itself.

  Only recently—after putting away as many criminals as she had—had she begun to look at herself in the mirror again. To accept the past and allow herself to live again. Even so, it didn’t stop her shame. Her total hatred of what she’d allowed herself to become. But it was long ago.

  She was drawn to him in a way difficult to ignore. Maybe it was time to stop running and face the final part of letting go of the past. Maybe it was time to enjoy a little sexual exploration without fear.

  “Finally alone,” Constantine said as the waitress departed, turning a mind-melting smile on Nicole.

  Dark and deserted, the lounge certainly qualified as offering privacy. Apparently, the louder bar they’d left was the popular spot for the night.

  Nicole commented, quick to busy herself in conversation rather than naughty fantasies about an upstairs hotel room. “What brings you into town?”

  “Business,” he said. He paused, reaching for her hand and enclosing it in his.

  The waitress set the drinks on the table. “What kind of business are you in?” Nicole asked, telling herself she cared about the answer, knowing she should. But she really didn’t want to talk at all. She wanted to kiss him. Or just go to his room. The thought, unbidden, confirmed what her body already knew. She had to have this man.

  “I’m in imports and exports.” He paused, and his voice lowered, lifting her hand to his mouth, and fixing her in a sultry stare. “Unfortunately, I rarely find my way to Austin.”

  She swallowed, staring into those sultry eyes and feeling lost, sinking deep into the haze of attraction. In the far corners of her mind, his words still registered. Hearing that she’d probably never see this man again delivered a tiny jab of disappointment, but it also offered freedom. Freedom to explore without fear of being connected to the U.S. Attorney’s office, prosecuting one of the biggest drug lords in existence. It was a rare chance to test the sexual waters again without a tomorrow to face.

  “So you’re staying in the hotel?” she asked, her gaze never leaving his.

  His eyes darkened ever so slightly, a reaction to the implication of her question. “I am. You?”

  “No. I came for a celebration,” she said. He still held her hand and his thumb stroked her wrist, sending darts of heat up her arm. “My sister passed the bar exam.”

  His brow inched upward. “Impressive. An attorney. Does it run in the family?”

  “I guess you could say that. I’m an attorney. My sister is going to work at my father’s firm.”

  “You don’t work there?”

  “Ah, no.” Too late—she realized how sharp the answer came out.

  Judging from the look of interest on Constantine’s handsome face, he hadn’t missed her tone. A couple, arms around each other, walked by and Nicole was darn glad for the diversion. This was a sexy fling, not a place for dirty laundry.

  Constantine let go of her hand to reach for his drink, and Nicole felt the loss of his touch instantly. She busied herself by reaching for her drink and taking a long swallow, a bit taken aback by her reaction to this man.

  Constantine took a swallow from his longneck beer. “What kind of law do you practice?” he asked.

  “Criminal.”

  “Which side?”

  She tilted her head at the odd question. “What do you mean—which side?”

  Just a hint of a smile played on his lips before he lifted his beer and took another drink, apparently not in a hurry to respond. When he set the bottle down, he scooted closer to her, molding their legs together, and resting his arm on the booth behind her.

  He enclosed her with his body, in the intimate way a lover encloses his woman, framed her, hiding her from the rest of the room. “Do you get the bad guys off or put them behind bars?”

  “I’m a federal prosecutor,” she said, certain the simple declaration would end the strange direction of the conversation.

  His free hand settled beneath the hem of her skirt, resting on her knee. Tipping his head downward, Constantine’s lips lingered just above her ear, his warm breath caressing her neck and sending a shiver down her spine.

  “Do you like making the rules…or breaking them?” he asked.

  The sexual undertone of his question became quite clear. Nicole eased back enough to look into his eyes, her body heavy with desire, her nipples tightening with arousal. “I most definitely make the rules,” she whispered.

  His expression held a challenge, a look that said…she was wrong. A look that said he made the rules. “Breaking the rules,” he said, in a voice so sultry, it stroked her nerve endings and further drew her under his spell, “can be quite…enjoyable.”

  As if to prove his point, his hand inched up her thigh, beneath the red tablecloth, to touch her lap. He caressed and teased her sensitive flesh, so close to her core. So close… She sucked in a breath as his fingers brushed the damp silk between her thighs.

  “I don’t break the rules,” Nicole managed to respond, her hand sliding beneath the table to still his, their eyes locked in a smoldering standoff. “I make people who do, pay for their bad behavior.”

  “Really?” Constantine asked, with clear interest in his tone. “A real good girl, are you?” He nudged her legs a bit farther apart and then maneuvered their hands so that hers settled on top of her core. His forehead settled against hers and he said softly, “You aren’t acting like such a good girl right now, Nicole.�
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  The way he said her name—with a roll of the L—made her hot. She couldn’t answer him, biting her lip to hold back a moan, as their combined fingers brushed along the tiny silk barrier of her panties. His lips brushed her ear as he murmured something in Spanish that she didn’t understand. Then he said, “I like a woman who knows when to take charge,” and his fingers worked with hers to shove aside the panties and brush her swollen clit. “A woman who knows how to get results.”

  Her lashes fluttered, her mind lost in her body’s demands. Her fingers worked with his, sliding along the slick folds of her core, gently caressing. Teasing. When Constantine inserted one long finger inside her body, she could barely breathe for the pleasure. He cupped her mound with both their hands, massaging even as he stroked her inner wall.

  “Come for me, baby. You’re so wet. I know you want to come.”

  He got that right. She was barely containing her desire to rock with the motion of his hand, or rather their hands. “I…I…oh…”

  She fought a moan that would surely draw unwanted attention. But it just felt so…good. She couldn’t hold back. She needed this, needed release so badly.

  As if Constantine knew what she struggled with, his mouth covered hers, swallowing the sound of gratification before it filled the room. It was a kiss that branded her with sensual heat, his tongue delivering such perfection it seemed to stroke her clit just as his thumb did.

  Nicole quivered with the impact, her body tensing with the onset of release—a release that became so intense, she hurt with the pleasure of it. He worked her through the orgasm, his fingers, tongue and hand taking her higher and higher…then bringing her to slow, sweet bliss.

  When eventually Nicole stilled, Constantine’s fingers remained between her legs, and she knew she should be embarrassed. Instead, she stared up at him, dumbfounded by how lost she’d become in this man, this stranger. How easily he’d made her forget her surroundings. Forget her life. Forget the past and even the present.

  Nicole had delved into some fairly kinky, and quite agreeable, places with her ex. But never, ever had she felt removed from the world. Never had she just experienced the pleasure as an escape. Always before, she’d felt…detached—like a spectator who watched from outside the scene.