Date With a Diva

by Joanne Rock

  He felt only soft curves.

  And got a hard-on in two seconds flat.

  “How should we dance?” She looked up at him with wide blue eyes as she shifted in his arms. “Does it matter?”

  He knew what dance they should be doing right now, but he bit his tongue to keep himself from spelling it out.

  “Lady’s choice,” he managed finally, keeping his hips just far enough away from hers. “Why don’t you make the call?”

  “Won’t you have to do this a certain way tomorrow?” She bit her lip as she read over his shoulder as if seeking the answers in the script.

  “We have a little creative license with this kind of thing.” He lifted his hand to cup her chin, to turn her gaze toward his. “What do you think, Daisy?”

  “Two-step.” Her breath came in shallow puffs, as if she could feel the same heavy heat between them that he did. “Do you L.A. boys know how to two-step or am I going to have to teach you?”

  The hint of challenge in her voice brought a smile to his face. Damn but he liked it when she flirted with him.

  “Don’t forget I’m a Mississippi boy underneath the thin veneer of city polish.” He tightened his hold on her waist with one hand and untangled her free arm from about his neck with the other. Weaving their fingers together, he held her close and waited for her cue.

  She could plaster herself against him for the kiss he was dying to taste, or she could read the first line he’d marked in the script. He held his breath, hoping like hell for the former, knowing even the latter would earn that kiss eventually.

  If he could only be patient.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Her words came from the script, but they seemed to mirror her thoughts.

  Picking his moment, he began the simple steps of a dance every kid in his town knew by the time they were in kindergarten. Hell, his high-school prom had been a barn dance, so he remembered a thing or two about two-stepping.

  “Lady, I know exactly what I’m doing.” The confidence of his CIA agent character gave Bram the green light to move his hands up Daisy’s back to the patch of bare skin above her zipper. “You just follow me and I’ll take care of you.”

  “Then do you care to tell me why we’re wasting time dancing?” Daisy’s eyes widened as she read her line.

  His grip tightened on her reflexively as he slowed his step. He drew her hips to his, molded her breasts against his chest. “You call this wasting time?”

  “I call it a poor substitute for what we’d both rather be doing.” Her voice trembled a little on the line, her eyes were full of blue flames when he met her gaze.

  “Never let it be said I cheated you out of what you really wanted.” He halted in the middle of the Harem Suite, more than ready to follow through on the act the script called for next and hoping Daisy wouldn’t mind.

  His mouth descended to hers, his lips brushing across hers softly at first, then with a determination he couldn’t suppress. She tasted like toothpaste and marshmallows from the beach bonfire.

  If he’d been worried about her rejecting him, his fears evaporated as she dropped the script on the floor and wrapped both arms around him with surprising strength.

  Her breasts flattened against him, the taut peaks teasing his chest right through her silky blue dress. The uninhibited response was exactly what he’d hoped for and better than he’d imagined.

  He was already calculating how many steps away they were from the bed when she broke their kiss.

  “You maneuvered me into this by having me read that scene, didn’t you?” She looked surprised. Shocked.

  Ah damn.

  He loosened his grip, hoping he hadn’t screwed things up. “I’m sorry, Daisy. I guess I hoped once we started reading, it might, you know, inspire us.”

  He waited for the feminine outrage. Already imagined their pictures on the cover of the Enquirer after Daisy sold them her story.

  Movie star seduction technique backfires!

  But Daisy surprised him with a wicked grin. “Turns out you’re not always such a nice guy after all, are you?”

  And that was a good thing?

  He shrugged, not letting go of this woman without a fight. “I really wanted us to be together tonight.”

  Suddenly her hands were all over him, down his back, up his chest, hovering over his shoulders.

  “Trust me, I like that you’ve got a bad streak in you, Hawthorne.” She pressed her hips against a raging erection and wiggled. “It makes me feel better about my own.”

  Oh yeah. “Please say that means you’re going to spend the night with me.” He wanted to be sure he was interpreting all the signals right before he lost himself in Daisy’s honeysuckle scent.

  “I’m staying.” Her fingers combed through his hair while he inched the zipper of her dress lower. “And you can be my audience for a change.”

  “Consider me captivated.” He paused on her zipper to slide out of his dress shirt. When he reached for her again, she danced back, out of his reach.

  “How can you be captivated when you haven’t seen anything yet?” With a swish of her hips she turned on him and glanced back at him over one shoulder.

  “Hell, I’m more than ready for the show.” He put two fingers in his mouth and let out a wolf whistle.

  “Take it off, sugar,” he drawled, his gaze pinned to her half-unzipped dress for any hint of her breasts.

  She sashayed around him in a bump and grind that set all the right parts to jiggling and would have put any roadhouse stripper to shame. The sexy slow music he’d put on earlier didn’t deter her in the least. If anything, she just made her movements that much more tantalizing to match the beat.

  “What do you think, hotshot?” She taunted him as she cinched her dress up high, but not quite high enough. “You like what you see?”

  “I’m loving what I see, but you must know I want more.”

  “Maybe I do, too.” She nodded toward his pants still belted around his hips. “And I think I’d be more inclined to give you what you want if you show me something in return.”

  He reached for his belt. “If this is part of the bad streak you’ve got, I think I’m going to like it.” Easing his zipper down, he was only too happy to oblige Daisy’s demands.

  Her gaze cut to his trousers. “I think I’m going to like this, too, Mr. Hawthorne. Why don’t you tell me what you want to see first?”

  His mouth dried up just looking at her, the straps of her dress already falling off her shoulders, her shag haircut giving her a permanently tousled look.

  He stepped closer to run one fingertip over the generous curves of her cleavage. “I want to see these.”

  “Tell you what,” she whispered as she reached for her hem. “Why don’t I just give you the whole show at once?”

  Whipping her dress away in a swirl of blue silk, she was suddenly standing there mouthwateringly naked in front of him. Pale and perfect, she cupped her breasts in her hands as if in offering while a rosy pink stone glittered from the indent of her belly button.

  He muttered an oath, or perhaps it had been worshipful praise. Either way, he was on top of her in an instant.

  Hands exploring, seeking, finding where she liked to be touched best. Mouth licking, tasting, inhaling her. They rolled to the floor as one, the exotic bed forgotten in their haste to be horizontal. Bram tugged off his pants to press himself into her thigh, the slight pressure of her cool skin not nearly enough to take the edge off his hunger for her.

  He vowed he’d find a dozen ways to make her come later, if he could only just get inside her this first time. Hauling her over him, he tugged one of her slender thighs on each side of his waist. Positioned the damp heat of her over his straining cock.

  She threw her head back as she rode the ridge of him, her slick warmth beckoning him inside.

  He nearly lost his mind, could have forgotten all about protection if she hadn’t suddenly scrambled off him.

  “I’ve got condoms in
my purse. I think. I hope.” She rifled through the contents of her tiny sequined bag and then squealed as she withdrew a red circle that looked like a coin. “Never fear, latex is here.”

  He had a condom somewhere in his room, but he mentally blessed Daisy for having kept enough wits about her to be careful.

  She knelt over him, taking his cock into her mouth and clamping her lips about him so sweetly he had to tug her aside. Her unrepentant grin told him she knew exactly what she’d been doing as she rolled the condom over him and straddled his hips.

  Hello, beautiful.

  The view from the floor was incredible, but he flipped her to her back just the same, needing some more control this first time. He steadied her hips with his hands, his fingers sinking into soft feminine flesh at the same time he buried himself between her thighs.

  Daisy’s body arched, her breasts lifting high off the floor in an invitation he couldn’t ignore. He drew one peaked nipple into his mouth while he tweaked the other between his fingers. Suckling and kissing her, he played with her breasts as his hips found the rhythms she liked best.

  Finally, she cried out his name on a moan, her fingernails digging deep into his shoulders while her body pulsed wildly around him. He didn’t have a chance of holding back his own release. His hand moved to her belly where the pink stud scraped against his thumb. His fingers curved around her hip, holding her there as the shudders of his release wracked through him. Again and again.

  It had been way too long since he’d done more than flirt with a woman.

  When he pried open his eyes that had somehow drifted shut, he found Daisy smiling up at him.

  “That was something.” She said it with just the right note of awe in her voice, as if being with him was the best time she’d ever had in bed. Or on a floor. “Bet you can’t do that again.”

  He would have laughed if he could have found the energy. Instead, he settled for drawing her into the crook of his arm. He kissed the top of her head and wondered how long it would take to uncover all her bad-girl secrets.

  “I bet you’re dead wrong.”

  BETTER TO BE DEAD than sexually unfulfilled.

  Or so it seemed to Nico two days later as he slapped a puck across the ice so hard it ricocheted off the boards and sailed up into the stands. He’d spent the past two nights alone in the most hedonistic bedroom he could imagine while the woman he wanted slept on the other side of a Sheetrock wall he could have easily put his fist through.

  All in all, a piss-poor way to relax.

  Skating across the ice in a low-budget rink he’d built downtown a few years ago to give city kids a place to practice, Nico stared up at the clock protected by iron bars. In another half hour he could retrieve Lainie from the police station where he’d dropped her earlier. She hadn’t received any more notes, but there had been a couple of crank phone calls that made the police more wary.

  Robert Flynn was now being kept under closer watch at the prison, and the cops were kicking up the investigation a notch. They wanted a list from Lainie of any potential enemies, disgruntled employees and former employees who might have taken out their frustration by torching her kitchen. He’d been surprised when he’d caught a glimpse of her long list, but according to her, you didn’t get ahead in business without pissing off a few people. Still, she seemed exceptionally good at the pissing off part.

  Did it make him a sucker that he kind of liked that about her? Other women he’d dated had been occasionally put off by his tendency to be aggressive when it came to getting what he wanted and expressing his views. But next to Lainie, he was simply holding his own. She was every bit as strong willed and opinionated as he was, possibly even more so.

  It only followed that they’d argued about going to the police station together. She hadn’t wanted him there, insisted she’d be well protected in a cop shop, but he hadn’t budged on at least driving her there and back.

  He might not be able to sleep with her for fear he’d fall for her in a big way. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to follow through on his promise to look out for her until the police found out who was behind the explosion. His money was still on the smarmy ex-husband who must have plenty of connections outside his jail cell.

  Plus, Lainie’s list had included one of Flynn’s old Rat Pack cronies at the hotel who hadn’t been caught yet, as well as the slew of employees she’d churned through in a short amount of time. Even pseudowaitress Daisy Stephenson with her big blue eyes and crush on Bram Hawthorne had been on the list. Though he could not imagine why a girl like Daisy who had caught the eye of a superstar would be wasting time setting off explosives.

  Nico skated to the edge of the ice and slipped the rubber guards on his blades to walk to the locker room. Maybe he ought to head back to the station early so he could put his two cents in with the police. He’d probably put a hell of a lot more thought into what was happening at Club Paradise than any overbooked civil servant.

  He’d almost made it to the safety of the locker room when a peewee skating class plowed out of the dressing area, their pads and helmets making them bounce off each other in their scramble to take the ice. The littlest kid at the end of the pack took an elbow to the chest and fell face first on the rubber mat lining the concrete floor.

  “Hey, bud, you okay?” Nico scooped him up under the arms, setting the kid’s skates back on the mat. When the rug rat wearing a Panthers jersey looked up at him, he realized the kid in question was a green-eyed little girl, her brown braid tucked into her big hockey sweater.

  “You’re Nico Cesare.” She whispered the words with a flattering amount of wonder before she belted out a yell that stopped the rest of her class in their tracks. “Hey, everybody, it’s Nico Cesare!”

  So much for giving the cops his informed opinions. He was effectively captured, surrounded by screaming kids in less than ten seconds.

  LAINIE WATCHED THE KIDS swarm Nico from behind a fat pole near the bleachers and smothered a laugh. She’d fudged the time she needed to be picked up at the police station so she could drop by the ice rink early and see him in his element.

  Not that she was slowly growing obsessed with the man or anything. She simply wanted to get an idea of who Nico Cesare was outside of his dedication to his sister. Obviously, he was much more than that to these kids who all jammed papers and pencils and hockey cards in his face for autographs.

  She snickered again as he glanced up at the clock and then back down at the sea of excited little faces all talking at once. Perhaps she’d laughed a bit too loud because his head whipped around in her direction, as if he had ultrasensitive radar where she was concerned.

  “You.” He pointed an accusing pink pencil with a fat teddy-bear-shaped eraser in her direction. “What are you doing here?”

  He kept the menace out of his tone, but she saw the frustration in his dark brown eyes.

  “Don’t worry. I had a squad car drop me off out front when I finished up early.” No need to admit she’d planned as much so she could get a sneak peek at the arena he’d built in this working-class section of downtown Miami. She’d bared enough of herself to Nico yesterday without admitting her growing fascination with him. How many men would not sleep with a woman because they cared about her?

  Unorthodox male behavior certainly, but intriguing just the same. Every time Lainie thought about Nico caring about her she experienced a juvenile bout of butterflies.

  Like now, for instance. Two days of backing off and getting to know Nico better had only convinced her she would be insane not to talk him back into her bed. They could keep things simple and still like each other. It didn’t have to turn into a Relationship with a capital R.

  “A squad car dropped you off?” He looked slightly appeased as he handed the teddy-bear pencil back to a padded and helmeted little hockey player who had to be a girl. “Did an officer walk you inside?”

  “No.” She strutted closer to where he stood, infusing her stride with just a little more hip action than u
sual. “But he definitely watched me walk all the way into the building.”

  Nico snorted as he patted another kid on the helmet and picked up a piece of paper to sign. “I’ll just bet he did.”

  “Are you disappointed you’ve got no reason to be mad at me now?” She peered around the small ice rink, wondering where all the parents for these kids were hiding. A teenager with a whistle who was probably the coach watched a Zamboni finish cleaning off the ice.

  “What makes you think I want to be mad at you?” Nico spoke to her while he nodded to a kid who was showing off a hockey stick with a red-and-gold Panthers logo on the handle. He gave the boy a thumbs-up and then proceeded to sign his stick.

  The teenage coach blew the whistle then, and the pack of kids backed off reluctantly until Nico encouraged them to practice so they could have their turn in the NHL one day.

  Did he have to be so damn good with kids? Robert had only cooed over babies when it made a good photo op.

  “Lainie?” He took off his skates and tossed them into a big sport bag. His hockey sweater followed, leaving him clad in a red-and-gold Panthers T-shirt and black track pants. He stuffed his feet into sneakers and stared back at her. “What makes you think I’d want to be mad?”

  She shook her head to clear it of visions of Nico and kids. For all she knew, he was only nice to kids when it suited him, too, right? Wrong. She didn’t trust her gut about men for a lot of reasons, but she trusted that what she’d just seen hadn’t been fake.

  “I don’t know. Guess I figured maybe it would be easier for you to keep your distance if you could stay angry.” She hugged herself as she walked with him toward the exit, her breath a visible puff in the chilly air. She hadn’t realized how frigid it would be around an ice rink, her long silk skirt and close-fitting blouse providing zero warmth.

  “Being angry won’t help. I’m pretty damn sure I could be mad at you and want you at the same time. In fact, after the hell of the past two days, I think I’m going to want you no matter what.” He shoved open a set of double doors and held one for her as she stepped outside.