Harlequin Blaze June 2015 Box Set: Midnight ThunderFevered NightsCome On OverTriple Time

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Endorse you?” Devin leaned in, resting her elbows on her knees. “For what?”

  “Never mind.” Gabe took off his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn Jack and his big mouth. Gabe wasn’t sure how he’d gotten wind of what had gone down with Holcomb. Gabe sure as hell hadn’t told him. But the guy had an uncanny knack for digging up dirt. Suddenly, transferring him to Public Assistance Fraud seemed like a brilliant idea.

  Gabe rolled his chair back and stood. “Let’s go.”

  He moved to a coatrack in the corner of the room for his suit jacket and she followed. “You don’t have to take me to lunch.”

  “I don’t want to risk any more interruptions.” Or give Jack another chance to hit on her.

  “I’m not dressed for any place fancy.”

  “You’re perfect for the place I have in mind.”

  Half an hour later, they were seated across from each other at a table at the Big Apple Burger Bar.

  “So.” She bit into her burger, closed her eyes and moaned. Her tongue darted out to catch a rivulet of juice but not fast enough to stop it from running down her chin. He gripped the edge of the table, white knuckled, resisting the impulse to wipe—or, better yet, lick—it away. There was something about a woman who enjoyed her food that got him right in the groin.

  Devin opened her eyes and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “Who’s Holcomb? And why does he think you’re a stick-in-the-mud?”

  “Nice try.” Gabe took a bite of his burger. “But we came here to talk about you. And your brother.”

  She licked her lips and his nether regions stirred again.

  “I’ll pry it out of you eventually,” she said. “You know I will.”

  “I’m up for the challenge. First tell me about your brother. How can I help?”

  “You know people in Child Services, right?”

  “Sure.” His mind whirred, trying to come up with a reason why Child Services would be involved. Was her brother a minor? Had he run away? Been abused? Abandoned?

  She munched on a French fry. “Victor and I were separated in foster care when he was ten and I was thirteen. I haven’t seen him since. He’s the only family I have left. I filled out an application with the adoption information registry, but...”

  “Let me guess. Nothing.” Gabe was all too familiar with the registry. It only worked if both parties signed up.

  “Yep. I’m not even sure whether he was adopted or stayed in the foster system until he turned eighteen. And the PI I hired was a total bust.”

  “And now you want me to see what I can find out.”

  “In a word, yes.”

  “I’ll do what I can.” He rubbed a hand across his jaw. He’d figured Devin had had it rough as a kid. He just didn’t know how rough. It made him even more eager to help her, if he could. “But if your brother was adopted, and the adoption was sealed...”

  “I know. It’s an uphill battle. But I have to find him, Gabe. He needs me.”

  Her hand shook, causing her to drop the fry hovering at her mouth, and Gabe frowned. Something more was going on. Something she wouldn’t—or couldn’t—tell him. But he wasn’t going to press her. Not yet.

  He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. A jolt of lust traveled up his arm and through his chest.

  Jesus Christ.

  What the hell was wrong with him? The woman was distraught, and here he was acting like an overeager teen on his first date.

  Gabe gave her hand a quick squeeze and let it go. “I’ll do my best. I promise. I’ll make some calls tomorrow and let you know what I can dig up.”

  “Thanks.”

  She gave him a sad pseudo smile, and they ate in silence for a few minutes.

  “Okay,” she said finally, plunking her water glass down on the table. “Now that that’s settled, I want the whole stick-in-the-mud story.”

  Damn. He thought she’d forgotten. Should’ve known better.

  “It’s not all that exciting.”

  Kind of like me.

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” She pushed her chair back from the table, stretched out her long legs and crossed her arms, waiting for him to begin.

  “All right, but don’t blame me if you’re bored. Seems to be a common complaint where I’m concerned.” He wanted to bite back the words as soon as they were out of his mouth.

  “Ah, we’re back to that again.” She bit her lip, a move only slightly less enticing than licking them. “Look, about that night...”

  “You don’t have to explain.” He reached for his burger.

  “Yeah, I do.” The tone of her voice—low and somehow desperate, almost urgent—stopped him, and he put the sandwich down. “You’re not boring, Gabe. And if Holcomb’s telling you that, whoever he is, he’s a moron.”

  “He’s my boss. And I’ll let him know you feel that way. I’m sure it’ll make a big difference.” He didn’t feel inclined to mention that his ex-girlfriend was on the Gabe’s-a-snoozefest bandwagon, too.

  “I’m just trying to help. You don’t have to get all snarky on me.” She shot up, her chair scraping against the hardwood floor, and reached for her gigantic shoulder bag.

  “Devin, wait.” He half rose and put a hand on her wrist, deciding it was better to risk another sexual lightning bolt than let her leave in a huff, and she hesitated. “I’m sorry. I guess it’s a sore spot with me.”

  She lowered herself back into the chair, dropping her purse beside her. “Apology accepted. Now what can I do?”

  “Nothing.”

  She rolled her cornflower-blue eyes, eyes that seemed so at odds with the rest of her coloring. Pale mocha skin. Jet black hair. “That’s not what your friend Jack seemed to think.”

  “He’s not my friend.” And he wasn’t exactly thinking with the head on his shoulders.”

  “You want your boss to endorse you for something, right?” Devin plowed on as if he hadn’t even spoken.

  Gabe took another swig of root beer and nodded. “District Attorney when he leaves office.”

  “And he won’t because he thinks you’re too stuffy.”

  “In a nutshell.”

  “So let’s unstuff you.”

  “Unstuff?” His voice rose an octave, and several people turned to stare at them. Could this get any more embarrassing? What was it with him and public humiliation lately? Maybe he should avoid restaurants altogether for the foreseeable future.

  “Sure.” She got up and walked around the table, surveying him from every angle as if he was a prize steer. He half expected her to pry open his mouth and check his teeth. “You’re good raw material. I can work with that. And let’s face it, I’m probably the least repressed person you know. By a long shot.”

  Raw material? What did she think this was? Cool Eye for the Uptight Guy?

  “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “I’m not taking no for an answer.” She sat back down across from him, pinning him with those blue eyes, now a deeper almost denim. “Consider it payback. For Victor.”

  “I haven’t found him yet.”

  “But you agreed to try. That counts for something.”

  “You’re Holly’s friend.” And, since their kiss, the object of his late-night fantasies. Yet another reason this idea of hers had train wreck written all over it. “It’s the least I can do. I don’t need to be paid back. I’ll take my chances at the Feast of San Gennaro.”

  She tucked her hair behind the ear with four piercings. “What’s the feast got to do with it?”

  Damn. It was like looking at her made his brain shut down, leaving his mouth to run free. “Holcomb wants me to go with him. Prove I can relate to the ‘common man,’ whatever that means. Get them to vote for me.”

  “That gives
us...” She pulled her smartphone from her pants pocket and scrolled through her calendar. “Almost six weeks. Plenty of time.”

  “Time?” He pushed his plate away. “For what?”

  She whipped out a notepad and pen from the depths of her bottomless handbag and started scribbling. “For me to loosen you up.”

  4

  “YOU WANT TO take me where?” Gabe crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. It had been three days since Devin had announced her plan to “unstuff” him, and truth be told he hoped she’d forgotten the whole thing. Then she’d shown up at his Tribeca apartment looking like a cast member from Hair and said she was taking him to...

  “A rave,” she repeated, adjusting the fringed tube top she’d paired with a denim miniskirt and white gogo boots. The movement did wonderful things for her breasts. “It’s an all-night dance party.”

  “I know what a rave is.” Gabe smirked. “I crawl out from under my rock once in a while.” Plus, he had a case a couple of years ago involving a rave.

  “Well, come on, then. We’re burning midnight.”

  He looked down at his polo shirt and khakis. Another ten minutes and she would have caught him bare chested and in sweatpants, his usual bedtime attire. “Don’t you think I’m a little underdressed?”

  She shook her head, her long, dark hair, held off her face by a floral band, rippling. “Anything goes at these things.”

  He grimaced, remembering his case. Teenagers, illegal substances and slam dancing were a lethal combination. “So I’ve heard.”

  “If you’re talking about drugs and sex...”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you really think I’m so stupid I’d put your job at risk?”

  “No, I don’t think you’re stupid at all.” She might not have an Ivy League education like most of his colleagues, but he’d pit her street smarts against their book learning any day.

  “Not all raves are dens of iniquity. True rave culture is about peace, unity and respect. It’s about expressing yourself in any way you feel comfortable, in a place where you feel no fear, just love and joy from everyone around you.”

  He snorted. “You sound like a greeting card.”

  “Very funny. You need to loosen up, and this will get you out of your comfort zone and in touch with younger voters.” She tapped one patent-leather toe on the linoleum. “Now quit stalling and let’s go.”

  Busted.

  He picked up his keys and wallet from the hall table, stuffed them in his pockets and closed the door. He wasn’t pleased that Holcomb seemed to think he needed fixing, but Devin was front and center, ready, willing and able to help him “express himself.” Might as well get it over with. “Where exactly are we going?”

  She started down the corridor. “A vacant warehouse in the meat-packing district.”

  He trailed after her, admiring the way the skintight skirt cupped her ample bottom. Why did the bad girls always look so good?

  They stopped at the elevator and he pressed the down button. “How do you find out about these events? Is there some sort of website or something?”

  “There are message boards and forums.” With a ding, the elevator door slid open and she got in. “But I found out about this one from some friends. That’s how I know it’s okay.”

  He followed her inside and hit the button for the ground floor. “So my job’s safe. I still don’t understand how going to a rave is supposed to get Holcomb to endorse me.”

  “Your boss wants you to be more relaxed, more spontaneous, right?” She did a little shimmy, bringing her backside dangerously close to his groin. “There’s nothing more freeing than dance.”

  Oh, yeah, that was freeing, all right. Any more freeing and he’d take her right there in the damned elevator.

  He stabbed at the button again, as if that would speed their trip. This night was going be torture. In more ways than one.

  Ding.

  The elevator opened and Gabe hightailed it out of there. Maybe outside the cramped car he stood a chance of resisting her.

  Right. And maybe he stood a chance of serving on the United States Supreme Court. She bent down to pull up one of her boots, simultaneously lifting her skirt and lowering her tube top, and he swore under his breath. Like she wasn’t showing enough skin already.

  “I’ll get us a cab.” Without so much as a backward glance, he strode across the lobby, through the door and to the curb, his arm raised. The sooner this evening started, the sooner it would end.

  “Not so fast.” Devin yanked his arm down and dragged him toward Canal Street. “Tonight we’re slumming it.”

  She pointed down the block toward the subway station.

  “You consider the subway slumming it?”

  “No. But I figured you would.”

  “I take the subway. On occasion.”

  “Oh, yeah?” She paused at the top of the subway stairs and faced him. “When was the last time?”

  He lowered his chin. “Okay, so it’s been a while. But only because I started biking to work when the weather got warm.”

  Her eyes traveled the length of his body and her tongue darted out to lick her lips. “It shows.”

  She brushed past him and headed down the stairs, giving him another view of her spectacular ass. He stood for a minute, his mouth open. Christ, she was bold. He’d never had a woman check him out so blatantly. He wasn’t sure if he liked it.

  Okay, that was a lie. He liked it. A lot.

  “Are you coming or not?” Devin called from the bottom of the stairs.

  Not yet. But maybe later...

  He bounded down the steps, shaking off that thought as quickly as it had sprung up. Figuratively and literally. “Right behind you.”

  The subway ride was uneventful. If Devin singing with a street drummer and helping a guy dressed as Spiderman find his cell phone could be called uneventful. All in only three stops. When they got off, she led Gabe a few blocks to a large brick building.

  “This is it?” He looked around. Quiet. Deserted.

  “Just wait.” She knocked on the heavy metal door.

  “Dev!” The burly, bald-headed man who opened it greeted her with a bear hug. “Where you been, girl?”

  “Here and there.” She hugged him back. “Got room for two more?”

  “For you, of course.” He opened the door wider and eyed Gabe. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Carlos, this is Gabe. He’s a virgin,” she said with a wink.

  “A what?” Gabe choked.

  “She means it’s your first rave.” Carlos ushered them in and closed the door. “Don’t worry. Devin’s a real pro. She’ll take care of you.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Gabe muttered.

  Carlos showed them down a long hall and then a flight of stairs. As they descended, the insistent beat of techno music grew stronger, vibrating through the soles of Gabe’s loafers and up his body.

  He bent his head so his mouth was at Devin’s ear. “This might be a good time to confess I’m not much of a dancer.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll lead.” She grabbed his hand. “Just stick close and follow me.”

  “Have fun, kids.” The music was deafening now, and Carlos had to yell to be heard as he swung open the door at the bottom of the stairs.

  Gabe nodded in acknowledgment, not even bothering to try to shout over the noise, and he and Devin stepped into what seemed like another dimension.

  The big open space was wall-to-wall people of all ages, from college kids to baby boomers. Some were dressed in street clothes like him. Others wore all manner of costumes: tutus, hot pants, sequined bras, fluorescent wigs, outrageous hats and glasses. Gabe could have sworn one woman’s dress was made entirely of duct t
ape.

  A huge stage filled the far end of the room, showcasing a DJ behind a wall of electronic equipment. Giant screens displayed images from an elaborate laser light show.

  “Come on,” Devin said, drawing him into the crowd. “Let’s dance.” Or at least that’s what he thought she said. They didn’t teach lip-reading at Columbia. Or Officer Development School.

  The crush of bodies on what Gabe supposed could be considered a dance floor pressed them together, chest to chest, hip to hip. Laughing, Devin threw her head back and raised her arms. Then she started moving, swaying, undulating against him and he thought his cock would burst through his khakis.

  “What are you doing?” he mouthed.

  She smiled and looped an arm around his neck, tugging him impossibly closer. He tensed, certain she could feel his erection straining against his zipper.

  Christ. What had happened to his legendary self-control? The guys at work called him Mr. Spock, and it wasn’t because he had pointy ears.

  Gabe gritted his teeth and focused on a spot somewhere just above Devin’s left shoulder. Anything to distract him from the seductive way her breasts shimmied under her tiny tube top.

  With her free hand, she grabbed his waist. “Move those hips,” she shouted. “You’re as stiff as a freaking statue.”

  Oh, he was stiff all right. But not in the way she meant. “I told you, I can’t dance.”

  She rose up on her toes to speak into his ear. “Just think of it as sex standing up. With your clothes on. In public.” She gave him a wicked grin. “You can do that right?”

  He smiled back. “I can try.”

  “Good.”

  She started swaying again, using the hand at his waist to make him move with her. After a minute, he relaxed and gave in to the rhythm of the music and the soft but insistent pressure of her hand. With each step, each brush of her chest against his, his pulse quickened and his breath grew more ragged.

  Gabe dragged his gaze from Devin’s and scanned the crowd. It was either that or go from the simulated sex she called dancing to getting down and dirty for real right there in the middle of the floor.