But she was already halfway lost. She didn’t dare hang around until it became all the way.
She hesitated, staring into his dark eyes until . . .
All by themselves, her fingers curled around his hand. Her head nodded yes. Looking down at their hands, enthralled by the juxtaposition of his darker skin against her lighter skin and the sight of her smaller fingers engulfed by his bigger ones, she let him tug her back a couple of steps to the sofa, where they sat.
And when she pulled her hand free, she couldn’t resist sliding her palm across his, just so she could stockpile the feeling of his skin against hers so it would last until she felt it again.
“Thanks.” Mike’s fingers instinctively curled into his palm, determined to hang onto Dara’s body heat for as long as possible. So this was what humility felt like, eh? Begging someone not to walk out on you and being fall-to-your-knees grateful when they didn’t? If so, he wasn’t sure he liked it. On the other hand, he was sure he’d do it again, in a second, to keep her here with him. “For staying.”
She nodded, her gaze moving away from him. Shifting restlessly, she smoothed her hair and tossed it over her shoulder.
He hesitated, a million questions he wanted to ask her vying with his determination not to drive her away.
“Why didn’t you leave?”
Shaky laugh. “No idea.”
“Ouch. I’ll pretend you said my animal magnetism kept you here.”
Another laugh. “With you? I’m guessing that’s what you heard no matter what I said.”
Man, he liked this one. It took every ounce of energy he’d ever possessed not to reach for her face and pull her in for a kiss.
This one might get under his skin. She might be trouble.
It’d been a mistake to touch her. Now that he’d felt the smoothness of her skin, he was dying to touch the rest of her. He needed to know whether her lips were as soft as her breasts, wanted to feel the heat of her thighs and her hips and the leap of her muscles as he trailed his fingers along her belly. He had the unshakable feeling that waiting to make love to her would be the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Looking away, he blew out a breath and ran a hand over his nape—two moves that did nothing to cool his hot blood.
First things first, Baldwin, he told himself, facing her again.
“What’s your name?”
“Dara Williams.”
“You’re a first-year?”
“Yes. Does it show?”
He shrugged. “I know I’ve never seen you before, so you must be a first-year. How old are you? Twenty-two?”
“Twenty-three.”
He whistled softly.
She shot him a glare. “What’s that mean?”
“It means most twenty-three-year-olds I’ve seen recently are silly and giggly. But not you.”
“Maybe you should stop trying to categorize me,” she said sourly.
“No can do.” He grinned. “I’m going to have to put you firmly in at least one category.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Which category is that?”
Women I want to swallow whole.
But since that wasn’t the politically correct answer, he went for the G-rated version.
“Let’s call it ...women I want to get to know much better.”
“Oh, really? And how many dozens of other women are in this category with me?”
He stared at her, his smile fading.
“None.”
Her searching gaze held his for a breathless pause.
Giving in to temptation, he reached out, caught a shining lock of hair near her cheek and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. When her breath hitched, he felt the vibration through the silken strands.
She did not pull away.
He watched her, waiting.
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Ancient compared to you. Thirty-four.”
She laughed and tossed her head, breaking the physical tie between them. “You probably have a good year or two left.”
“Let’s hope. Where are you from, Dara?”
“Chicago, but I graduated from Michigan last spring.”
Michigan. That confirmed his suspicions that this girl was really smart. Good. He wanted someone to share the New York Times with over breakfast.
“What’s your degree in?”
“English literature.”
“So why aren’t you writing novels or teaching creative writing?”
Another laugh. “I’ve always had this strange desire to be a lawyer.”
Dara’s desires. Well, that topic definitely required exploring.
“And do you have any other strange desires?”
A delightful flush crept over her cheeks. “None that I’d care to share right now,” she said primly.
He could kiss her now, he realized, thrilled. She wanted him to; her glowing face and sparkling eyes told him so. Well, he wanted her begging for his touch. He wanted her to be as sure as he was. He would never force her into anything. So he steered his mind back to their conversation.
“What kind of lawyer do you want to be?” he asked.
“Why don’t you just give me a written questionnaire to fill out? Maybe that would be easier.”
Now he laughed. “I’m a pretty good criminal attorney, Dara. When I ask questions, I expect you to answer them. Or else I’ll have to treat you like a hostile witness.”
“And how is that?”
“Not pretty.”
“Duly noted. What was the question again?”
A response eluded him for a couple beats because his attention had snagged on her dewy lips. He wanted to taste those lips. To lick and bite them. To feel them running over his body, trailed by that silky hair.
“What, ah, what kind of lawyer do you want to be?” he repeated, his runaway fantasies making his voice hoarse.
“I’m not sure. My father is a federal judge in Chicago. Maybe criminal law. Maybe employment law.”
“What about your mother?”
“She’s a nurse.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
“None.”
“No brothers and sisters? You’re spoiled, then.”
Mischief glimmered in her eyes. “I’m an angel. As long as I get what I want when I want it.”
Mike didn’t believe her for a minute. He’d bet his last dollar she had a temper to match his. But there was something angelic about her. Something sweet that attracted him like a hummingbird to an azalea in full bloom.
“You have the face of an angel. But I think you’d drive a man crazy.”
“Oh, really? Good crazy or bad crazy?”
He cocked his head and considered. “Both.”
“Well, then, maybe you should run while you’ve got the chance.”
Run? Maybe he should. He was just getting to a place where his firm could turn a profit, and he really didn’t need any distractions from work right now. And this girl was a walking distraction; she’d probably be a walking obsession, if he let her. But he wouldn’t.
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he murmured.
“No? You’re not too bright, then, are you?”
That made him laugh. “Did anyone ever tell you you’ve got a smart mouth?”
Dara beamed. “You wouldn’t be the first. Anyone ever tell you you’re arrogant and nosy?”
He laughed again. “I was right. I knew when I first saw you that you would never be boring.”
“When you first saw me? Was that before or after you undressed me with your eyes?”
Whoa. She liked to have all the cards out on the table. Well, so did he. Even so, he hesitated.
“Don’t ask me a question unless you’re ready to hear my answer,” he warned softly.
Dara kept quiet.
So he took her wary silence as permission to speak freely. And to touch her again.
He raised his hand and very gently and slowly ran his fingers down the side of her face, from her
temple to her chin, then ran his thumb around her velvety bottom lip. She gasped and her lids lowered a little, as if she wanted to close her eyes and give herself over to the moment.
“When I undressed you with my eyes and saw how you looked back at me, I wished I could take you home and make love to you.”
Beneath his fingertips, he felt the sudden tension in her muscles.
Mike froze.
You had to go too far, didn’t you, jackass?
She got up and glared down at him. “You take way too much for granted.”
Mike stood too, wishing he hadn’t said so much this soon, but willing to own it anyway. He wanted her and fully intended to have her, sooner rather than later. They’d have to deal with it.
“Dara—”
A light tap on the open door startled them both. They looked around just as Sean poked his head in.
“You in there, Dara?”
Mike scrubbed a hand over his chin in frustration. The party and his brother were the very last things on his mind at the moment.
“What’s up, man?” he asked coolly, hoping Sean would take the hint and get out of there as soon as possible.
But Sean went straight for Dara and, to Mike’s astonishment, folded her into a bear hug. “You look beautiful. Like always.”
“Hey, Sean.” Dara stiffened and stepped back, color flooding her face. “Where did you come from?”
“I came to find you. What’re you doing down here?”
“I came to see Professor Stallworth’s slave memorabilia,” she said, gesturing vaguely to one of the framed posters.
A terrible, heavy feeling grew in Mike’s belly while he watched this interchange. He was putting two and two together and discovering he really hated the number four.
“You know Dara?” he asked Sean.
“I told you about Dara, man,” Sean said, shooting him a significant look.
Mike forced himself to take a good look at his brother, whose feet barely touched the ground. Sean glowed like a sixteen-year-old with his first car. Mike’s heavy feeling, meanwhile, coalesced into a sickening lump of dread.
“This is the woman you told me about?” Mike asked, wanting to suspend time at that moment, before Sean answered, because he didn’t really want to know. The bottom line was that if Sean had had this woman, or thought he was in love with this woman, then he, Mike, could never have her. Sean barely tolerated him now as it was. If he made a move on Sean’s woman, Sean would hate him forever. And if Sean hated him, he couldn’t repair their relationship.
It was simple, really: Mike couldn’t have Dara and keep his promise to his sick mother.
He had to choose: he could heal his family, or he could go after Dara. He couldn’t do both.
“This is the woman,” Sean said.
Mike stilled, absorbing that information like a brass-knuckled punch to the gut.
“How do you two know each other?” Dara asked warily.
“Sean’s my brother,” Mike said.
“Oh,” she said blankly, staring at him.
His brain spun in frantic circles, looking for loopholes.
Exactly what had Sean said about his relationship with Dara? That they were already involved? He couldn’t make himself believe it. It was like staring at the Statue of Liberty and having someone try to convince him it was the Eiffel Tower. He’d thought Dara was into him, but maybe he’d imagined it.
He stared at her, all but choking on his disbelief.
Was this beautiful woman sleeping with his brother? In love with his brother? Had Sean touched that silky skin, run his fingers through that shining hair, and kneaded those breasts and that ass? Had Dara moaned for him? Cried out his name? Scratched his back as she came?
Bile rose in Mike’s throat, threatening to gag him.
It was all a moot point anyway.
What mattered was that Sean was obviously crazy about Dara and would never forgive Mike if he took one look in her direction. All Sean needed was another reason to hate him.
Sean glanced between them, his expression bemused. “Weren’t you two talking? Didn’t you introduce yourselves?”
Dara’s stricken gaze flew to Mike’s face.
“We introduced ourselves, but I guess neither of us made the connection to you, man,” he told Sean.
Sean nodded. “Did you two eat yet? I’m starving.”
Dara blinked. Shook her head.
“Let’s go.”
Sean put a hand on the small of her back and guided her to the door. Dara hesitated and turned her head halfway, as if she wanted to look back over her shoulder at Mike. But she didn’t.
She left with Sean.
Mike stared after them, seething and sorely tempted to rip Sean’s arm from its socket.
Back in the living room, Dara felt Mike’s accusing gaze following her. She didn’t want to look at him, but couldn’t control the way her eyes kept finding him the way a compass needle always finds north. He was furious and, as near as she could tell, hurt, probably because he thought she’d been playing games with him. She hadn’t. Still, she felt guilty for flirting with Mike when she knew Sean was into her.
Mike Baldwin, he’d said.
Baldwin. Duh.
He’d had her hormones in such an uproar that his name hadn’t clicked. He and Sean did look somewhat alike, now that she thought about it. Their skin color was roughly the same, and their hair, although Mike’s was shorter.
But Sean was always open and cheerful. Mike’s expression was darker and more intense.
She watched as Mike walked to the buffet table, where an attractive woman immediately engaged him in conversation. Dara had no idea who the woman was, but she hated her on sight.
Jealousy was a new and unwelcome emotion to Dara and further indication that she needed to give Mike Baldwin as wide a berth as possible if she wanted to stay sane. Clearly, the man had done something to her body— something indescribably delicious but also terrifying. His light, fresh cologne lingered in her senses, as did the timbre of his voice and the phantom imprint of his hand in hers.
Well, she didn’t need him commandeering her thoughts and senses, thanks. Those things belonged solely to her and she intended to keep them. Looking away from Mike and the hoochie, she sipped her wine. Thought about all the reading for class she had to do tomorrow. Plus she had grocery shopping and laundry— I wished I could take you home and make love to you, he’d said.
Grrr. There he was again, back in her thoughts.
Now here she was, fantasizing about sex with a man she’d known a grand total of thirty minutes.
Another sip of wine tasted like vinegar in her mouth, so she hastily swallowed it and set her glass on a passing server’s tray.
God, she was stupid.
That was the real bottom line here. The whole episode with Antonio had apparently taught her nothing about men. Why was it so hard to remember that casual sex didn’t work for her? Mike Baldwin, therefore, was not the man for her, and it was a damn good thing she’d realized it right off the bat. He was arrogant, overbearing and in search of a quick hookup. He’d admitted as much. Well, good riddance.
Only ...Why was her stomach churning with disappointment?
She needed to get over that and focus on her relief that she’d narrowly escaped disaster. She was on the emotional equivalent of the last helicopter out of Saigon, and she was grateful. Whew. Because Mike Baldwin would consume her if she let him. No question about it. He’d fill her every waking thought the way he filled up every room he entered. If he set his mind to it, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew and understood every part of her. He’d read her thoughts and get inside her mind. And if she let him make love to her, he’d take her places she’d never dreamed of, teach her things about her own body that she didn’t know.
And if he decided he wanted them, which, of course, he would not, he wouldn’t be happy until he possessed her heart and soul.
She couldn’t let any of that happen. Law school was
her purpose in life. That was it.
Vivid memories of that heartbroken semester with Antonio flew through her mind: her stunned disbelief and feelings of betrayal; the abrupt end of their relationship; the destruction of the friendship she’d thought was rock solid; the end of her romantic dreams, silly though they were. And she remembered the aftermath: depression; weight loss; skipped classes; lower grades than usual. So the year she turned twenty-one, her biggest lesson hadn’t come from school. It was that a romantic relationship wasn’t worth the risk to her ambitions.
She wouldn’t forget it.
She and Sean sat on one of the sofas and she checked him out, wondering how siblings could be so different. Mike had the confidence and grace of a big cat and seemed to have a feline disregard for his surroundings and what others wanted. Sean didn’t have that same self-assurance. More than that, she’d bet Mike was a person who decided what he wanted from life and didn’t stop until he got it.
Sean? Eh, not so much.
So he was no Mike, but he was attractive and she was only human. She’d noticed his broad shoulders, tight butt and disarming smile. She just hadn’t given them a second look or thought.
Agitated, she watched Mike shake his simpering little friend and stride to the bar for a drink.
“Tell me about your brother,” she said casually.
Sean’s scowl said it all: no love lost between brothers. “Like what?”
“You were a paralegal for him, right? At his criminal law firm?”
“Right.”
“He’s not married?”
“Him? Hell, no.” Sean raised his eyebrow at her. “Why?”
Cheeks burning, she fussed with lint on her pants. “Just wondering. He seems pretty arrogant.”
“You have no idea.” He got that shy, puppy dog look in his eyes and took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”
Dara stilled. She didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to see where this was going, but one Baldwin brother per night was all she could handle.
“Sean—”
“I’m crazy about you. You know that, right?”
Hesitantly—nervously—he raised his hand and ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. She leaned away. Sean dropped his hand. Over Sean’s shoulder, ten feet away by the bar, Mike stared at them, cold fury in his eyes.
Trouble Page 3