Dangerous Liaisons

by Maggie Price

  “You’re full of—”

  “Mr. Champion…” Whitney laid a hand on the man’s wrist. “We can clear up this whole matter if you’d tell us where you were last night.”

  His furious gaze whipped back to her. “Why last night?”

  “Starting around seven,” she continued. “We just need a quick rundown of how you spent your evening.”

  “Dammit, I was supposed to have a date,” he ground out, his face red, his voice hoarse.

  “Supposed to?”

  “The demo I was driving from the dealership broke down on the side of the road. I was halfway between here and Norman. In the boonies.”

  “What time was that?” Whitney asked.

  “Around eight.”

  “Did you call for a tow?”

  “I would have if the battery in my damn cell phone had worked. I spent about an hour and a half working on the car’s engine. I finally got it to start.”

  “Did anyone stop and offer you assistance?”

  “Like I said, I was in the boonies.”

  “Where did you go after you got the car started?” Whitney asked.

  “Home. I was covered with grease and dirt and in no mood to go out. The car started this morning, so I drove it to the dealership, directly to the shop.”

  Jake planted a hand on the Glock holstered at his waist. “I find it interesting you never have a solid alibi when certain things happen. Murder, for instance.”

  Champion pushed out of his chair. “I’ve had it with your accusations. If you want to talk to me again, call my lawyer.”

  “We’ll be seeing you,” Jake said.

  “Go to hell,” Champion said, then stalked out the door.

  Whitney rose, leaned a hip against the table. “Remember the good old days when people had alibis you could check out? We can call the dealership and find out if Champion brought the car in to the shop this morning, but that’s not going to prove it broke down on him last night.”

  “He covered himself pretty well on the oil deal,” Jake said, biting back on frustration. “Dammit, Whit, we’re getting nowhere on this case. We’ve got bodies piling up faster than garbage at the county dump, and we don’t even know if the killer is a man or a woman.”

  “I guess the good news is, we can’t fall out of the ditch we’re in.”

  “A real silver lining,” he muttered, kneading at the tension just above his eyebrows. “I’d say the same thing even if this case wasn’t close to Nicole. But, dammit, it is. It’s too close and I can’t get a handle on how the hell to stop it.”

  “You’re not alone.” Whitney scooped up the pad and pencil, handed it to him. “We’ve both been up all night and day and we need a break. Meanwhile, don’t you have a date to pick up?”

  “My next stop.” Jake rubbed at his gritty eyes. “And here I am, in no mood for company. Not even my own.”

  Whitney tilted her head. “I’ll be happy to pick up Nicole, tell her you can’t make it.”

  He slid his partner a look. “Not on your life.”

  When Jake walked into the workout area at Sebastian’s, his mood darkened at seeing the unitard-clad Viking with his hands plastered on Nicole’s body.

  Jaw set, Jake halted beside a row of StairMasters. The mix of conversation, labored breathing and pulsing music that filled the air dimmed against a hot, searing jealousy he would have sworn he didn’t possess. He realized now he’d been wrong about the ivory robe Nicole had worn last night—it hadn’t shown every curve and hollow of her body the way her eye-popping sapphire leotard did. Darkened with sweat between her breasts, the stretchy material skimmed her incredible body like a second skin.

  His blood pumping, Jake drew on logic that told him it was standard operating procedure for a personal trainer to touch a client. How better to demonstrate the right posture for a squat lift but for Sebastian Peck to have one blunt-fingered hand on Nicole’s belly, the other pressed against her lower back?

  Wiping a hand across the knotted muscles in his neck, Jake turned, caught sight of Mel Hall in a mirror-walled workout pit. Dressed in a T-shirt and gym shorts, Nicole’s assistant lay on a slant board, puffing out breaths, his muscles bulging as he performed a set of curls with free weights.

  When he snagged Mel’s gaze, Jake gave a slight nod. The man’s mouth instantly compressed. Mel set the weights aside, mopped his face with a towel and crossed the carpeted surface to stand by Jake.

  “Don’t tell me you’re here because someone else got murdered,” Mel said, looping the towel around his neck.

  “Not since last night.” Jake knew that Whitney had called Hall to find out where he’d been when the professor had bought it in his driveway. As with the two previous murders, Hall claimed he’d been at home, taking care of his ill mother, who’d slept most of the evening.

  A line formed between Mel’s brows. “Since you’re wearing a suit, I get the idea you’re not here to work out.”

  “Nicole and I have plans.” Jake glanced back over his shoulder. His stomach muscles unknotted slightly now that she was doing the squat lifts under her own steam while Peck observed.

  “Plans?”

  “Yeah.” Jake looked back at Hall. “Any idea how much longer she’ll be tied up with Peck?”

  “Their hour’s about up.” Mel raked a hand through his damp blond hair. “Look, Nicole’s had it rough lately. She needs peace and quiet. Time to meditate. No offense, but your hanging around only reminds her of the bad stuff that’s happened.”

  “Maybe you think peering through crystals and drinking herb tea will make all this ‘bad stuff’ go away?”

  Irritation flashed in Hall’s eyes, then leveled out. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Good, because some slime’s running around, murdering people. He or she doesn’t seem likely to stop on their own. That means I’ll be around until this case gets solved.”

  “What happens after that?”

  If Jake hadn’t wondered the same thing, he would have told Hall what he could do with his question. Instead, he said, “Who knows.”

  “Ford?”

  Jake turned at the sound of Peck’s deep, accented voice.

  “Yeah?”

  “Nicole asked me to tell you she went to get her bag.” His eyes intent on Jake’s face, Peck pulled a black sweatband away from his blond mane. “I would challenge you again to that game of racquetball, but I don’t guess you’ve got time.”

  “Not now.” Jake knew that Whitney had also checked with Peck for an alibi for last night. Mr. Muscle claimed he’d been driving home alone from a weightlifting demonstration in Tulsa around the time of the murder.

  “You have a rain check,” Peck said. “I look forward to getting you on the court.”

  Slaughtering me, Jake thought. “Yeah.”

  Peck gave Mel a nod before moving off to one of the StairMasters. There, he smiled at a woman who grimaced as if every muscle in her body were weeping.

  “You made it,” Nicole said from behind him.

  Jake turned, noting she’d pulled on a man’s oversize white shirt over her leotard. Although the shirt hung open in the front, he figured its loose cut might keep him from ravishing her before they got out of the gym.

  His mouth curved as he gazed down at her. “I made it,” he repeated softly.

  “I’m glad.” With her hair swept back in a braid, her blue eyes seemed huge, the bruise on her right cheek a faded shadow. Her skin seemed almost translucent as it glowed from her workout.

  Jake knew, in one breath-stealing flash, that he had never wanted another woman the way he wanted her. Reaching out, he curled his hand on hers. “You ready to get out of here?”

  “Yes—”

  “What about your car, Nicole?” Mel took an eager step forward. “You leaving it here?”

  She adjusted the strap of the leather tote she’d slung over one shoulder. “I’ll pick it up later tonight.”

  In the morning, Jake thought, linking his fingers with hers.
If she wasn’t already clear on the fact that he wanted her to himself all night, she soon would be.

  “Okay.” Ignoring the towel around his neck, Mel raised a shoulder, blotted his forehead against one arm of his T-shirt. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Remember to give Edna the sugar-free gingersnaps I bought at lunch,” Nicole said, giving his arm a squeeze.

  Mel beamed. “I won’t forget. Those are Mom’s favorites.” His smile dimmed as he flicked Jake a look, then shifted his gaze back to his boss. “You call me if you need anything. I’m going straight home when I leave here.”

  “I will.”

  Jake waited until they’d moved out of earshot, then asked, “Do you get the idea your assistant doesn’t approve of our being together?”

  “Mel doesn’t think you’re my type,” Nicole said as they skirted rows of exercise equipment. “That you won’t be good for me.”

  Jake didn’t choose to analyze why Hall’s opinion annoyed him. It just did. Making no comment, he pressed a hand to the small of her back as they passed through the reception area, then stepped out into the brightly lit hallway. There, he spun her around, nudged her back against the wall and pressed his body against hers.

  “I’m more interested in knowing what you think,” he murmured.

  “I’ve thought about our being together all day. I think I’m going to go crazy if you don’t kiss me.”

  “Glad to.” Responding to a need he could no longer control, he crushed his mouth to hers.

  Her lips parted on a quiet moan; instantly, she was clinging to him, her mouth wild and willing. When he pressed closer, her body vibrated against his like a plucked harp string.

  His heart pounded in his head while his hands raced over her, exploring the curves and hollows that had tormented him since last night. Every cell inside him burned for her. Every need he’d ever felt was for her.

  “I don’t care,” she murmured when his mouth left hers to ravage the exposed column of her throat. She tugged at the knot of his tie while her breasts rose and fell against his chest. “I just don’t care anymore.”

  A hollow echo had Jake drawing back, turning his head in the direction they’d come. Although he saw no one at the end of the carpeted hallway, he forced himself to remember where they were. He knew if he didn’t get Nicole out of the building fast he’d haul her into the nearest janitor’s closet and take her there.

  “What don’t you care about?” he asked, fighting to regain both his breath and his sanity.

  “If you’re my type. Good for me, or bad. Perfect match, or perfectly awful. It no longer matters.” Her skin was flushed, her eyes slumberous as her hand slid up to cup the side of his neck. “I don’t understand what’s going on around me. I don’t know why people are dying. And I don’t know why I feel the way I do about you. All I know is that I need you, Jake. All of you.”

  Her words touched him, had him framing her face in his palms. “I should take you out,” he said softly. “Buy you dinner. Show you that you mean more to me than just this.”

  “Buy me dinner later.” One of her hands settled over his, her fingers trembling. “Right now, I want to be alone with you.”

  “There’s a plan I can’t argue with.” Linking his fingers with hers, he tugged her away from the wall and headed toward the elevator.

  Chapter 11

  With her head spinning and her vision blurred at the edges, Nicole barely remembered Jake dragging her into the elevator for the swift ride to the building’s lobby. Nor could she recall in detail their harried dash to his car. All she knew was that when he slid behind the wheel, he looked at her as though she were a shimmering pool of cool water and he was a man with a desperate thirst.

  “My place or yours?” he asked, cramming the key into the ignition.

  “Which is closest?”

  “Mine.”

  She nipped the lobe of his right ear between her teeth. “Yours.” His warm, musky scent filled her head, made her heart thud. “Does this car have a light and siren so we can get there faster?”

  “Trust me, we don’t need them.”

  Later, much later, she would wonder how he managed to handle the car, much less traverse the heavy late-evening traffic without wrapping them around a bridge abutment. Right now, what mattered was getting her unsteady fingers to stop fumbling long enough to get his tie unknotted.

  “I want to feel you,” she said when she finally managed to work off his tie, undo half the shirt’s buttons and shove aside the starched material. A hum of pleasure surged up her throat while her exploring hands slid across his chest, savoring the power of sinew and muscle. She used a light fingertip to trace the swirl of coarse dark hair that circled one nipple, then her mouth replaced her fingertip.

  The car lurched; beneath her lips, she felt Jake’s heart jolt. “Are you trying to get us killed?” he groaned as the car winked through an amber light.

  “Hmm,” she murmured, and tugged at his nipple with her teeth.

  “You are.”

  Ten minutes later, the car pulled to a jerky stop. His hands were instantly on her, wrenching her up from his chest, dragging her onto his lap.

  His mouth took hers in a dazing, dizzying kiss. Her blood heated like a flash fire beneath her skin, roared in her head. Her fingers plunged into his hair, her body straining against his with urgent need.

  He shoved her shirt off her shoulders, down her arms. The buttoned cuffs caught on her wrists, trapping them behind her. For a thrilling moment she felt the heady, arousing sense of being bound, helpless while he tugged her stretchy leotard off one shoulder. Need raged, clawed inside her as his teeth seared a hot path across her exposed flesh.

  “I want this off.” Wrapping her braid around one hand, he arched her head back to expose her throat to his mouth. “I want you naked.”

  “You have…to peel off…the whole thing.”

  On a vicious oath, he shouldered open the door, dragged her out of the car with him.

  Nicole had the vague sense of the warm night closing around them, of the car’s door gaping open behind them. With a cuff of the white shirt still circling one of her wrists, they staggered together up the driveway, hot, hungry mouths locked. Somehow she wound up facing him, stumbling backward, one arm draped over his shoulder. He swept her up into his arms, taking the porch steps two at a time.

  The light beside the front door glowed. When he pulled his mouth from hers and shoved the key in the lock, the heat in his dark eyes seared her. Lust clutched deep in her center.

  In one smooth move he shoved open the door, kicked it closed behind him. A weak wash of light coming from somewhere deep inside the house illuminated the small entry hall in silver light and shadow.

  When Jake set her on her feet, she discovered that her knees were loose, her head filled with blinding light and colors. If he hadn’t shoved her back against the nearest wall and trapped her body with his, she knew she would have crumpled to the floor.

  Against her belly, she felt his erection throb.

  His breath a harsh rasp through his lips, he caught her face in his hands.

  “Tell me.” Eyes as black as midnight bored into hers, searching. “Tell me you want this, Nicole. You want us.”

  “Yes.” Her throat was so dry the word was barely audible. “I want us.”

  His fingers curled into the leotard’s neckline, yanking the material down to her waist. With an expert flick of his fingers, he unhooked her cotton sports bra, dragged it off. His hands tight at her waist, he lifted her off her feet to take her breast in his mouth. The air around her thickened; her breath snagged in her lungs as she arched back, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

  His mouth fed, suckled, his teeth scraping erotically over her aching, budded nipple. She writhed against the small, exquisite pain, sobbing his name, the wet pulse between her legs pounding.

  “Jake… Please, I can’t…”

  “You can.” He lowered her, his mouth coming down on hers, cru
shing, conquering. His hands ran along her skin, clever, skilled, strong as he stripped off the leotard, the shirt that still clung by one cuff, then her panties.

  “You’re beautiful.” Gazing down at her, he cupped her breasts in his hands, his thumbs performing a slow, erotic massage of her nipples. “Perfect.”

  The flash of passion, the fury of need that darkened his eyes filled her with a sense of decadent power as she stood before him, naked except for her socks and workout shoes. Time and place became nothing against a hard, driving desire for him. Only him.

  “Here.” In mindless, liberating pleasure, she shoved her hands beneath his suit coat, forced it off his shoulders. “Right here,” she said, frantically tugging his shirttail out of his slacks.

  “I’ve got a bed.” His eyes glimmered in the weak light as he fought the suit coat off his arms, flung it aside. “I’ve got a damn bed.”

  “Later.” Need for him, primitive and overwhelming, surged through her as her greedy hands unhooked his belt, the button of his slacks.

  “Here, then.” He paused long enough to toe off his shoes and step out of his slacks and briefs before he dragged her down onto the floor with him.

  The coolness of the tiles beneath her back registered in her dazed mind as he leaned over her. His mouth began feasting on her flesh, his greedy hands racing over her quivering body in ruthless exploration. Heat pumped through her blood; she felt herself going warm and soft, melting into his touch, becoming one.

  Her hot, hungry mouth nipped his neck, his chest. Her nails dug into the hard ridge of his shoulders. She couldn’t get enough of him, of his taste, his touch. He seeped into her, pore by pore.

  She gasped when his palm cupped her, molding against her with intimate possession. His fingers moved against her wet heat, relentlessly driving her up, the need for release building, clawing viciously inside her.