by Jamie Denton
Almost uninhibited, he amended. While she wasn’t shy with her body, she hadn’t exactly told him what she liked, either. Although he thought her cries of Yes. Oh, Ben. Yes, had been highly erotic, he would’ve welcomed a bit more communication on her part.
He snagged the sack with condiments, then carried it to the table with the wine and long-stemmed glassware. A horrified expression lined her face when he dumped the contents of the white bag on the wood surface. “Something the matter?”
She plucked a square, foil packet of Parmesan cheese from the table and held it between her fingers. She looked as if he’d tossed an offensive pair of sweaty gym socks left too long in a locker in front of her. “You don’t really eat this stuff, do you?”
He poured the wine and shrugged. “You have issues with cheese?”
She scooped up the other packets and carried them to the garbage can tucked beneath the sink. “Cheese, no. Cardboard, absolutely.”
She opened the fridge and returned with a plastic container of hand-grated Parmesan. “Much better,” she murmured, sprinkling a liberal amount over the small portion she’d served herself. She took a bite, then moaned with delight.
She looked at him and murmured something he didn’t catch. He was still processing that husky moan and savoring a new fantasy. One that had him clearing the table with a sweep of his arm, tugging the knot of her robe loose and seeing for himself exactly what she wore underneath. Nothing, he hoped.
“Ben?”
Her laughter nudged him back to reality. The amusement in her eyes had him wondering if she knew exactly where his mind had wandered.
“Did you say something?” he asked.
“This was really very nice of you.” A grateful smile curved her lips, pale and unlipsticked and quite inviting. “Thank you.”
“I aim to please.”
Heat flared in her eyes. She dipped her head to concentrate on her plate. “I didn’t know you had brothers,” she said, her tone brisk. “I met one of them today.”
He reluctantly tucked the fantasy away. “If you’re at the firehouse tomorrow, you’ll probably meet Cale.”
If? Jana mused. She should just live for the moment and stop worrying that Ben had some ulterior motive for showing up at her apartment. Well, one reason was obvious, she amended. The desire she detected gave him away. Unfortunately, her suspicions were operating on high, thanks to their argument that morning.
“So, do you still boss them around?” she asked, deciding to ignore that curious “if.” It could be a few days, or possibly a couple of weeks before she wrapped up her investigation, so she might as well take what little time together they did have and enjoy the moment.
He frowned as he tore off a chunk of the warm bread. “Why? What did Drew tell you?”
“Nothing.” She laughed despite the wariness she couldn’t completely ignore. “I have personal experience with first-born siblings, that’s all.”
“Where do you fall on the family food chain?”
“Bottom feeder. All girls.”
“I’m familiar with the type.”
“Oh really?” she asked. “And what type is that?”
He slathered butter over the bread. “Either you did everything you could to stand out and be noticed, or you were the good little girl.” He set the knife on the edge of his plate. “Considering your…organizational skills,” he said with a quick grin, “I’d say good girl, but you’ve got a temper, so that pretty much blows my theory.”
Not exactly the epitome of calm himself, he had no business chucking bricks at her behavior. She’d been surprised by his outburst, but hardly alarmed. He simply didn’t come off as one of those jerky types that bullied women to feel better about themselves. Ben had way too much confidence. He hardly needed to feed a lacking self-esteem.
“I wasn’t rebellious,” she told him, “but I did have a tendency toward stubbornness that would get me into trouble.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “A hellion, huh?”
“Hardly,” she scoffed, before taking a bite of her salad. “Well, there was the time Caroline dared me to sneak out to a party with her. That one cost me a few stitches.”
He looked at her quizzically for a moment, and she just knew he was replaying Friday night. Suddenly, he flashed her that rascal’s grin she’d never be able to resist.
“Ahh,” he said, slowly. “That’s where you got the scar on your—”
She cleared her throat. “That would be the one,” she said quickly. Not one of her proudest moments. The two-inch scar on her backside served as a constant reminder. “One reason why you’ll never see me in a thong swimsuit.”
The color of his eyes darkened. “Now that is a crime.”
Her pulse picked up speed. “I must’ve been around six or seven when I refused to eat vegetables,” she said, forcing herself to concentrate on their conversation rather than the awareness prickling her skin.
“Most kids decide they don’t like vegetables at some point.” He shrugged his wide shoulders. “I still won’t eat lima beans or peas.”
“I bet you didn’t raid the freezer and the pantry, then hand all the vegetables out to the neighbors.”
He chuckled, a deep, low rumbling sound that warmed her. “You couldn’t have just thrown them away?”
“Heavens, no,” she said with mock indignation. “I would’ve gotten in serious trouble for wasting food. There were children starving in third-world countries, you know.”
“Tell me more,” he coaxed, then dug into his salad.
She loved his smile, and the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when he laughed. While she’d been distracted with all that incredible afterglow stuff, he’d snuck past one-night stand status straight into involvement. With every second she spent with him, her emotional apprehension grew. Falling for Ben would be so easy. Too easy. After only three days she already suspected her heart might be at risk, which meant she could end up getting hurt when their affair eventually ended.
By the time they moved into the living room with refilled glasses of wine nearly an hour later, she’d shared with him most of her embarrassing moments from childhood. She gave him points for being a good listener, a component the male psyche generally lacked.
“What about you?” She pulled two coasters from the holder and set them on the coffee table. “I’ve been talking about myself all night. Any moments of teenage rebellion, or were you too busy bossing around your brothers?”
His smile faded somewhat, his expression shifting to something she thought could be longing. Her curiosity spiked.
“There’s not much to tell.”
Beside her on the sofa, he sat close enough for the musky tang of his aftershave to tease her senses. His thigh brushed hers, sending sparks traveling over her skin to gather and sizzle in her breasts. Her nipples tightened. “Try me.”
Do me! A much more honest statement. A tempting one, too.
He stretched his right arm over the back of the sofa behind her. She suppressed the desire to rest her head against his shoulder. Oh, she could get used to this involvement stuff.
His fingers teased the ends of her hair. “Not much to tell.” He took a deep drink from his wineglass. “Normal kid stuff.”
She wasn’t buying it, but she sensed his unwillingness to discuss his childhood and attempted a more subtle approach. “You’re very different from your brother.”
“Drew’s the youngest.” The return of his smile failed to chase away the shadows clouding his gaze. “It’s a known fact the youngest is always the brattiest.”
Her tactic failed.
Maybe he didn’t feel comfortable enough with her yet. No, she didn’t buy that one, either. She had her own set of facts to prove otherwise. His easy smiles. The complete and open way he’d loved her. The way he looked at her, as if he were dying of thirst and she held the map to the closest well of cool water. Maybe he had some sort of emotional baggage. That was something she could relate to since she had a trun
k or two of her own. Namely her parents, her father in particular. The past shaped a person, and considering the growing respect she had for Ben, she decided whatever had molded him couldn’t have been all that bad.
He leaned forward to set the glass on the coaster. “I’ve given some thought to our situation,” he said, changing the subject.
“And?” she asked cautiously. She’d meant what she’d told him. One word about her investigation and he’d have to leave. Just having dinner with him had to contain at least a dozen ethics violations.
“I agree that under the circumstances our involvement is unprofessional,” he continued. “Especially when we’re on the job. But, a lot of couples work together successfully.”
She had trouble digesting his words, since one in particular kept flashing in her brain like a neon billboard. Couples. He thought of them as a couple? Not that she minded the reference because it gave her a warm fuzzy feeling that had nothing to do with alcohol. The men in white coats had to be searching for him; she thought the C word was as taboo as the L word in man-speak.
“Excuse me, but wasn’t it you that pointed out we had a huge conflict-of-interest problem?”
He nodded as he turned to face her. “Maybe I was too hasty.” His hand settled on her knee peeking out from the opening in her robe.
Suddenly, she was very aware that all that separated his hand from the rest of her body was a few yards of chenille. She pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Go on.”
This I’ve got to hear.
“So long as we keep work out of the bedroom and sex out of the firehouse, why shouldn’t we see where this thing between us is headed?”
Leaning. Someone was leaning. Him? Or was that her slowly drifting in his direction? If he’d take his hand off her knee and stop tracing those distracting circles over her skin, she might actually be capable of intelligent conversation.
She forced herself back against the cushion. “I would really like that,” she told him honestly. “But, I think you called it right the first time. If my investigation and having an affair with you isn’t a conflict of interest, then at the very least it’s unethical.”
His palm smoothed over her knee and moved upward. Slowly, deliberately, he fanned his fingers, gently easing his hand higher up her thigh. While he’d been busy distracting her with his touch, she realized he’d moved in close enough for her to see the dark rim surrounding his pale-blue irises. And his determination.
“That’s too bad.” His voice turned low and husky. His hand advanced a few millimeters higher. “That would mean no back rubs.”
Oh boy, he absolutely did not play fair. Something in her tummy tugged hard, sending a flow of warmth through her veins to settle between her legs. Her entire body hummed with anticipation.
He moved in and nibbled her bottom lip. “No kisses, either,” he whispered, then lured her into a hot, wet, deep kiss.
Under the influence of his seductive spell, she willingly followed him. Her skin prickled. Dampness pooled between her legs. Struggling against the intense, instant craving to mate with him sounded like a dumb idea to her. She wondered if he had an aversion to flannel sheets.
His tongue slid over hers, teasing and retreating then becoming more bold and demanding. She issued a few demands of her own, then slipped her hand behind his neck to sift her fingers through the thick, silky strands of his black-as-midnight hair.
His fingers skimmed lightly through her curls. Forget flannel sheets. The sofa worked for her.
He ended the kiss far too quickly, but she forgot to complain when his lips trailed a path from her jaw to the sensitive spot below her ear. She felt a quick pull at her waist followed by cool air brushing against her heated skin as he parted her robe. With one hand cupping the back of her head, he used his other to run his fingers over her rib cage, then palmed her breast as if testing the weight.
“No touching, either.” The words whispered in her ear barely registered through the sensual fog clouding her mind. Concentration was impossible with him scraping his thumb lightly over her nipple and nibbling on her neck.
“Ben,” she murmured and closed her eyes. She didn’t care if she sounded needy and breathless. She wanted him inside her. Now that she’d had a taste of what they could share, she wanted him in the worst way. The ache ran deep and was too powerful to deny. If he didn’t ease the tension, she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions.
“No climaxes, Jana.” His hand slid slowly down her stomach. Lower. Lower, until he combed his fingers through her curls. She parted her legs, anticipating his intimate touch.
He slid over her slick folds to the core of her to caress her gently. Dipping deep inside, he then retreated to cover her with moisture. His thumb applied the perfect blend of pressure to her most sensitive place.
Oh yes. She definitely could get used to this.
“Do you really want to go without now that you know how incredible it feels when you fall apart? When we come apart? Together?”
She bit her lip before she whimpered like a pup begging for a handout. The pressure magnified, climbing higher and higher with each stroke of his hand until her body trembled, dangling on the precipice of release. She clung to his shoulder with one hand, while the other gripped the arm of the sofa so hard her hand ached.
“Will you come now, Jana?”
She arched against his hand.
“Come for me now,” he coaxed her, then clamped his mouth down hard over hers.
The sensations ruling her body took over and consumed her. The sweep and demand of his tongue mimicked the thrust of his hand until she couldn’t breathe. The fierce strength of her release sent her crashing over the edge where the world exploded. He swallowed her fierce cries as she instinctively sought more of the delicious, liquid heat filling every inch of her by lifting her hips.
She had no idea how much time passed as he gently eased her back to earth. Reality held a hint of musk in the air and an insistent beeping she didn’t recognize, followed by the warmth of chenille being tucked around her. She opened her eyes when she heard him sigh.
“But, you’re probably right.” He stood slowly, then pulled his beeper from his belt. “It would be unethical for us to do any of that while we’re working together.”
She watched in horror as he reclipped the beeper and slipped a set of keys from his pocket. He couldn’t be leaving. Sure, he’d definitely satisfied her, but…but she wanted more. She wanted all of him. “Where do you think you’re going?”
A sexy little half smile kicked up one corner of his mouth. “Work.”
A sweeping glance down his body offered visual proof of his arousal. Desire shone bright in his eyes, but still…but he was…leaving? He couldn’t do this to her. Not again.
She stood and jerked hard on the sash of her robe, knotting it tight around her. She ached for more of his touch.
“Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “I thought you were off duty?” How could he leave her feeling so…so incomplete, still craving him? He’d warmed her up to simmering and now he planned to walk away before they could reach a full boil—together?
He shrugged. “I’m needed.”
The man deserved to be shot for that remark. Didn’t he realize she needed him to finish what he’d started?
His smile deepened. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to jeopardize your investigation now, would you?”
She fisted her hands at her sides so she wouldn’t wing the closest object at his arrogant head.
He walked to the door and opened it. “Think about what you’ll be missing until you close the case.”
Before she could summon a scathing reply, or chuck a coaster at his head, he slipped out the door. Damn him. She knew exactly what she’d be missing. Hot. Wet. Thoroughly exciting, all-night-long sex. With a man playing the oldest game around until she gave him what he wanted—her off the case.
She hurled a few obscenities she hoped would have his ears ringing as she headed towar
d the shower. Once the water heated, she stepped beneath the spray, partially comforted by the thought of Ben in such an obvious state of arousal and his inability to do a single thing about it.
Despite her own frustration, she managed a giggle, and almost felt sorry for him.
9
JANA KNOCKED LIGHTLY on the open door to her boss’s office. “Got a minute?”
Gwen Reedly glanced up from the thick binder filled with computer printouts she’d been reviewing and smiled warmly as she waved Jana into the office. “I’m glad you stopped by. I was going to ask you to come by because I need to speak with you anyway.” She picked up the phone and dialed. “Have a seat and give me two minutes.”
Jana nodded, trying not to feel paranoid. Had Gwen heard about her and Ben already?
She let out a quiet sigh and sat in the gray fabric office chair, shifting her attention to the skyline of high-rise buildings as Gwen made her phone call. Although she’d been arguing with Ben that she would not, under any circumstances, reassign the investigation, this morning she’d reluctantly come to the conclusion that she had no choice but to make Gwen aware a conflict of interest existed.
The decision hadn’t been an easy one, and Jana dreaded having to admit that something personal could interfere with her objectivity on the job. After last night’s deliciously naughty, albeit preempted rendezvous, her ability to separate her growing feelings for the man who turned her inside out with little effort from her objectivity about the firefighter she’d been sent to investigate was questionable.
But more importantly, her stubborn refusal even to consider reassigning the case was far too reminiscent of her father. And since Jana refused to follow in her father’s footsteps, she’d decided to inform Gwen of the problem and see about being removed from the investigation.
Kyle Linney had put his career before anything else in his life. Without a second thought he’d sacrificed what should’ve mattered most—his wife and daughters. Granted, her father was an enormously successful documentary director, but not a single one of the awards displayed in his offices would offer him companionship in his old age. Not that she honestly believed she and Ben were going to spend the rest of their lives together, but she could easily be sacrificing her hard-earned career, and maybe even her financial independence, if she refused to divulge the truth.