Whoa. Don’t go there.
At least not yet.
His dark gaze roamed appreciatively over her, trailing from her head to her toes and back up. His lips quirked in a smile, and his long legs ate up the length of the aisle as he strode toward her, his unblinking gaze capturing hers. She salivated at every sensuous movement.
Black jeans encased long legs. What was it about black jeans on a man? He’d hooked his thumbs into the front pockets, which outlined the zipper placket. His hands seemed to cup a major bulge and called attention to his narrow hips and muscular thighs.
“Hello, Elizabeth,” he said with a trace of teasing humor.
He knew what she was looking at. Her poise faltered.
Elizabeth?
Her gaze swept up to his masculine face, then narrowed. “Elizabeth?”
He winked, his lips quirked. She deserved that. She’d be pissed if he stared at her breasts. “Mr. Bolt.” She affected a queenly air.
The sophistication of his starched white dress shirt and buttery-soft, black leather jacket was an amazing contrast to his jeans. He couldn’t have looked sexier with his thick black hair and neatly trimmed goatee.
“Hi.” He cupped her shoulders and kissed her.
The touch of his mouth electrified her. He had to know they had an audience, but it didn’t deter him. Word of this would be all over the theater, even the whole theater community, in short order.
He slid his tongue along the seam of her lips. Her mouth opened on a gasp, and she automatically tightened her grip in warning. Part of her wanted to throw caution to the winds and fall into the pleasure settling so at home in her sexual pulse points. But enough was enough.
He set her back, sliding his palms down her arms until he held her hands. His large, leather textured palms engulfed her.
“Well, Mr. Bolt. What brings you here?”
“I came to take you to dinner. Can you take off?”
“Dinner?” The simple dinner invitation sent tendrils of heat across her skin. “How did you find me?”
“You mentioned the name of the theater last night.”
“And you remembered? A man who listens? That’s impressive.”
“Glad I could impress.” He grinned rakishly.
Damn, he’s a gorgeous man.
She didn’t think any actor in Chicago looked this dark, dangerous, and sexy.
“Yeah, dinner. Can you go?”
“Um, okay.” She stepped back, needing the space to regain some composure. What was harder was dragging her gaze from the dynamic compulsion in his chocolate brown eyes. Eyes that sizzled hot and sparkled with humor. How the hell could he throw her so off kilter? “Sure, I can leave any time. Just give me a minute to freshen up.”
She changed clothes quickly while giving Bailey the scoop. Back at Sam’s side in only twenty minutes, she liked his approving grin. Black leggings, a mint green, silk camisole top, and her ruby red, fake fur, crop jacket happened to be one of her favorite outfits. And black and white hounds-tooth spike heels made it even sexier.
“Colorful outfit.” With an appreciative grin, he offered his arm. “You look great.”
“So do you.” She ran a finger down the starched placket of his shirt. The movement brought her breast in contact with his arm, and she could feel the ache even through all the layers of clothing.
He stilled, watching her finger, then tipped his head to hold her gaze.
She inhaled sharply at his sensuality, and then felt another heat behind her. Sam confirmed it, finally glancing up.
“Lizzie, honey, are you going to introduce us?”
She lowered her finger. Bailey, that troublemaker. Amused, she responded without relinquishing Sam’s gaze, “Sam this is my friend, Bailey Quarles. Bailey, this is Sam Bolt.”
The two men shook hands. Being gay certainly didn’t cancel out Bailey’s testosterone. Of course, he would be assessing Sam’s fitness, physically, as well as for boyfriend material.
“Where’re you two going for dinner?” Bailey gazed at Sam.
His gaze might reveal a bit more lust than Sam would be comfortable with, but his response would be interesting since Bailey was her best friend. Sam was a cop, and some of them weren’t known for being tolerant.
To her relief, Sam smiled easily. “Café Rusticus.”
“Oh, good choice,” Bailey affirmed. “Have a good time, kids.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek.
She sighed with relief. So far her friend seemed to approve of Sam.
On the way out, Sam winked, his lips quirked in a victorious grin as if he knew he’d passed a test.
He’d wanted her last night but had been sensitive enough to control himself. She’d just been mugged, after all. Tonight might bring a different outcome. Or not.
* * * *
Café Rusticus, a lovely little Italian restaurant just west of the Loop, was popular with local politicians and visiting celebrities. The maitre d’ apparently knew Sam and escorted them to a corner booth. Instead of sitting opposite each other, he nudged her over so they sat on the same side. His hands rested warmly on her bare shoulders for a moment when he slid her jacket off. His gaze held bad boy vibes along with warm appreciation. He put her in mind of a soft bed, cool sheets, and his muscular body caging her in. She’d have to simmer down or combust, but she loved watching this rough-edged looking man play nice.
Chapter 6
A trio of thick candles flickering at the center of the table provided romantic lighting. The sounds of Andrea Boccelli serenaded softly in the background. Soft lighting, lovely music, and a handsome man gave her a warm, pampered feeling. Still, a little warning tickled, though. She didn’t really know that much about him, and more importantly, didn’t intend to become involved with another man too quickly.
When their drinks arrived, Sam tapped her wine glass with his beer mug. “I never developed a taste for wine. I don’t drink hard liquor either. But food I like. All kinds.”
“You look to be in pretty good shape.” She sipped her wine.
To say the least. But this wasn’t her first date with a hunky man. “Do you work out?”
“Yeah, I run.”
“Nice. Not all Chicago cops are in shape.”
He suddenly slid his hand over her waist, palm flat over her stomach.
She swallowed back a startled gasp at his intimacy. But the heat in his touch, close to her sex, sent her senses into overdrive. Into hyperventilation range.
Breathe.
“You feel like you’re in pretty good shape yourself.” His warm breath bathed her cheek, and he sounded like a roughly purring lion.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Her temperature spiked at the intoxicating feel of his body. She lifted a hand to his chest but dropped it back onto the table. If she touched him again, she might want to slip her hand inside his shirt and feel the… Would his chest be smooth or hairy? As if it mattered. Warning. Warning. Stay in control.
He tipped up her chin with a long forefinger, his gaze lingering on her eyes then her mouth. “You can touch. It won’t hurt me.” His whisper was hushed, soft lips brushing over the corner of her mouth.
“It might hurt me,” she whispered back, caught by the intensity in his dark eyes.
“I’ll fix it.” His lashes lowered, lips parted signaling a kiss.
“Ma’am? Sir?”
She swung a startled gaze to the waiter. Hovering over the booth, he held up two plates of hot food and grinned. “Sam.” She nudged his shoulder, nodding toward the waiter.
“Mmm.” His gaze locked on hers for a moment more. “Okay, okay, we’ll eat now. Play later.”
That certainly sounded like a promise. “Let’s back this off a little,” she warned. “It’s just dinner.” He didn’t need to know how he tantalized her. His cockiness quotient already spiked pretty high.
“So,” he continued as if they hadn’t practically been on top of each other. “Are you from Chicago?”
“Yeah. My folks live on th
e northwest side. This is delicious.” She indicated her entrée.
“Do you have brothers? Sisters?”
“One sister, a year older. You?”
“Two brothers,” he replied, emptying the bottle of beer into his mug.
Finally, some information. “In Chicago?”
“Unh hunh.”
“Where’d you go to high school?”
It’s like pulling hen’s teeth. Hopefully, he’ll add in another word here and there.
“St. Barnabas.”
“You’re kidding! I went to St. Malphius.” She laughed. “What a coincidence.”
“St. Mal was our sister school. We lived just down the street. What year did you graduate?”
“Ninety-seven. You?”
“Ninety-nine.” He lifted an eyebrow in amusement. “I guess I’m younger.”
“So, you’re kind of like a little brother,” she teased.
“Not likely, lady.” His lopsided smile and the waggle of his eyebrows said differently.
Oh, God, he’s definitely not like a little brother.
He brushed his fingers along her jaw and cradled her face.
“What are you…?” Warily, she searched his suddenly very close eyes.
Before she finished asking, his beard brushed her chin, and he kissed her, infusing her senses with a creamy Alfredo taste. His moan reverberated through her heart. It was amazing that such a powerful man could kiss so delicately, so unsettlingly.
Her fingers tightened around his wrist. At first she meant to push him away but, in the end, held on. He didn’t press it, just kept up a gentle and consumingly passionate pressure. This man could break her heart. Could she risk the pain?
Even so, she melted against him, his intensity comforting and frightening her at the same time. He cupped her neck, massaging it, his palm hot on her skin. She rested her hand on his chest, his heart pounding against it.
Slowly, slowly, they each backed off. The kiss ended, their lips barely touching. Maybe the intensity had become too much. For her part, however charming and sexy he was, she didn’t want to move that fast tonight. She needed to make it clear. Maybe dial this down a notch.
“Sam, are you married?” Her question was blunt, but it needed to be asked.
“Not now.”
“Are you divorced?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
He lifted her chin and gave her a serious look. “Liz, I’m not married now. I wouldn’t lie about that.”
“Because cop or not, I’d kill you if I found out otherwise.” She only half meant the threat.
“It’s not easy being a cop’s wife. Especially undercover. Our hours aren’t regular, and we dress like hell.” He gave her a disarming smile.
“Not to mention the danger,” she added.
“Right. The danger. And uncertainty. I don’t blame her.”
“Do you have kids?”
“No, thank God.”
“You don’t like them?”
“Oh, I like them. I just wouldn’t want mine to be from a broken home.” Drawing a deep breath, his gaze seemed to be elsewhere, distracted, his eyes sad.
“I’m sorry, Sam. Whatever the problems were, it’s always hard to break up a marriage.”
“How about you?” An appreciative smile eased onto his face. “Married? Engaged? Being an actress, you must have a lot of men trailing you.”
She leaned forward, giving him a faux stern look. “Well, I don’t know what you think about actors, but we don’t all sleep around,” she scolded.
He held up both palms as in I surrender. “I didn’t mean that. I’m just asking.”
Well, I suppose it had to come out. “A few months ago, my boyfriend moved out of town.”
“Damn. Were you serious?”
“Yup.” She felt a tiny twinge, but it didn’t hurt as much to talk about it as she thought. “He made some snarky remarks about my career. Maybe he would have been happier if I’d been a Hollywood star or on Broadway. As it was, Chicago theater wasn’t good enough for him.” She didn’t try to suppress her bitterness.
“You’re kidding. What an asshole.”
She laughed aloud, warmed by his sympathy. “That’s okay. He was an asshole. Bailey warned me about him from day one.”
“Didn’t like this guy?”
“Nope, but then he probably doesn’t believe anyone’s good enough for me.”
“What about me?”
“The jury’s still out on that, no doubt, but he certainly thought you were…well, hot.” She gave him an admiring once over.
He chuckled. “Well, unlike some cops, I’m not freaked out by gays. But he wouldn’t want to try anything, either.”
She grinned. “I can’t promise he won’t, but I’ll try to protect you.”
“Does that mean you’ll keep on seeing me?” he asked, suddenly very serious.
“Time will tell, buddy. Time will tell.” She smiled, though, to give him some sort of encouragement.
At her door, she let him know she had an early rehearsal.
He didn’t bother hiding his disappointment, but didn’t push it either. Sliding his fingers up into her hair, he touched the bump on her head. “Do you still have a headache?”
“No.” She winced. “But it does hurt when you press on it.”
“I’m sorry.” He gently cupped her head and kissed her temple. “You’re sure I can’t come in?”
She snickered, amused by his persistence. “Good try, pal, but no. Not tonight.”
“Another night then.”
There was no mistaking the certainty in his voice. She also accepted the fact that she wanted more with him, too.
* * * *
Liz answered her cell on her way out of the theater the next evening.
“Pizza tonight?”
“Sam?” She hadn’t recognized the number.
“Yeah. How about pizza? I’ll pick it up and meet you at your door.”
She hesitated, not because she didn’t want to see him, but not sure of what she might be getting into. This wasn’t like Fred’s sedate courtship, but then look what had become of that.
“Do you have plans?” His interruption brought her back from the past.
“Um, no, as a matter of fact.”
“It’s just pizza.” He echoed her from the night before. “I’ll bring beer, too.”
“Well, okay,” she finally agreed.
“I’ll pretend that was more enthusiastic than it sounded.”
Laughing at his sarcasm, she said, “Okay, see you in about an hour.”
“You bet! What do you want on it?”
“Anything but onions and anchovies.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
* * * *
When Liz opened the door, he kissed her on the cheek, handed her the pizza box, and joked, “Honey, I’m home.” He put a six pack of beer in the fridge, opened two cans and handed one to her. Taking a sip, he asked, “What’d you do today?”
“It was a long day of rehearsals. This is nice.” She indicated the pizza. “I probably would have just had cereal and toast. How about you? Arrest anyone today?”
“No, just did paperwork.”
She moaned in pleasure at the first bite. “Good pizza. It’s just what I needed after a hard day on a hot stage.”
“So, to repeat my question of last night…”
“Yes, and that was?” She knew exactly what he meant.
“You’ll keep on seeing me?”
It was a surprisingly hesitant question coming from a man who looked like he did and acted so confidently. His dark gaze, full of tension and question, locked with hers. Pizza forgotten. Beer forgotten. Everything disappeared as he leaned forward and brushed a fingertip along her jaw.
“Hm?” His frown hinted at a bit of self doubt, a bit of vulnerability.
“Yes.” She felt about as susceptible. Damn. Even being an actress hadn’t prepared her for this love scene.
Come her
e.” He took her hand, pulling her onto his lap. “I’ve been waiting hours to do this right,” he murmured. Softly, his mouth closed over hers.
Her lips parted on an indrawn breath, his tongue seemed to melt into her mouth, filling it, exploring, plundering it with increasing heat. She wouldn’t stop him. Couldn’t. The carnal sounds rumbling from his throat and his hungry kisses beguiled her. A raw moan escaped her throat, and she responded, winding her tongue around his, exploring his mouth with lush, penetrating movements
His fierce embrace, the muscles of his hard chest when she slid her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair, electrified her. He was good. Very, very good.
He wrapped a palm around her breast, the heat of it searing through her clothes.
Arching against him, she sobbed, “Yes.”
He took her mouth again, opening it wide, suctioning her tongue, caressing it.
Wildly, she yanked at his shirt, pulling it from his waistband to get to his skin.
He grunted sharp, hot puffs of breath against her cheek and nipped, with stinging bites, the sensitive skin of her neck.
Senses assaulted on every level, her arousal blossomed with his plundering of her mouth, with his palm embracing her breast, with the electrifying graze of his teeth over tender skin. She squirmed, her nipples prickling painfully against the soft silk of her bra. She whimpered, felt her sex softening and opening, wanting to be filled.
Jesus.
Her need grew desperate, agonizing.
He suckled at the hollow of her throat, up the center to her chin, the sharp nips excruciatingly erotic. Heat exploded in her, melting her muscles and sizzling through every vein as his swollen erection pressed on her hip. “I want you inside me.” He hadn’t even touched her there, at her core, but that’s where she wanted him. Her nails dug into the muscles of his shoulders.
“Yes…naked,” he rasped.
“Unh hunh.” Her breathing fractured, became a sob.
He slid her top up and off, tossing it over his shoulder. Unhooking the front closure of her bra, he gazed open-mouthed. “So beautiful,” he said in an erotic purr. He licked the tips of her breasts with big, wide sweeps of his tongue. Around and around he traced, until that sweet mouth of his latched onto her sensitive nipple.
Quinn, Jane Leopold - Undercover Lover (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 4