Lawless

by Cindy Stark

  She let the screen door slam as she stepped out onto the back porch and sank into the swing. Ominous clouds rolled across the darkening sky as an unseen pressure thickened the air. A soft breeze carried the delightful scent of rain although no moisture had hit the ground yet. It was the proverbial calm before the storm. The threatening sky mimicked her life. Right now, there were only stirrings of activity, but it wouldn't be long before all hell broke loose. She was safe from the approaching thunderstorm, and she could only hope she'd remain safe until she testified at her father's trial.

  She kicked the ground, sending the swing into a rhythm of creaking and groaning that fit well with the pensive atmosphere. A streak of lightning split the sky in the distance, and she counted off the seconds to predict how long until the storm arrived.

  Four seconds later thunder rumbled through the heavens.

  She loved it.

  She tucked her feet beneath her as a swirling wind gusted into the yard. Branches in the pines rustled against each other as though jockeying for the best position to ride out the storm. The coffee cans they'd used the previous night for shooting practice tipped and rolled off the porch, the wind tumbling them toward the fence. She thought of jumping up to go after them, but they were quickly plastered against the clumps of tall grass along the fence and wouldn't be able to escape.

  Another flash of lightning lit the sky, followed by a huge, resounding boom that vibrated in her chest. This time, only two seconds separated them. Fat droplets of rain splattered against the covered porch, first one-by-one, but quickly the volume of singular sounds increased, turning into one constant drum roll.

  She jumped as streaks of white light filled the sky, earth-shaking thunder hot on their tail. The pounding on the roof increased in intensity as raindrops morphed into small pebbles of hail and began to bounce on the grass. Her instincts warned her to seek shelter, but she couldn't take her gaze off the fascinating light show.

  "You should come in."

  She jumped at the sound of Milo's voice and put a hand to her chest. "I think you just took five years off my life."

  He grasped her hand. "Come on. It's getting wild out here."

  She let him lead her inside, missing his touch when he released her to shut the door. Just as he did, another thunderclap shook the house. "Damn. That's some serious weather pounding out there. It hasn't hit this hard for years."

  "Don't you love it?"

  "Yeah. Nothing like a good storm to liven things up." He smiled and walked out of the kitchen.

  She followed him to the front of the house and found him back in his chair, his book propped on his lap. She could not spend the rest of the evening cooped up in the house watching him read. "We should do something."

  He flicked a quick glance at her but went back to reading his book.

  Getting his attention was a little like fishing. She needed some good bait. A box of poker chips on the bottom of a bookcase snagged her curiosity. "Any good at five-card stud?"

  The book sagged in his hands as he met her gaze. "I've been known to lay down a winning hand or two." Just like a fish nibbling on her line. He sat straighter in his chair, and she knew she'd hooked him. "Another challenge?"

  She arched a brow. "Only if your ego can handle losing."

  "Oh, darlin', you don't know when to quit, do you?" He set his book aside and stood.

  Excitement bubbled inside her. This was far better than landing a trout. "What are you talking about? I caught more fish than you did today."

  He walked toward her, stopping just inches from her. If he was trying to throw her off by his close proximity, she couldn't deny it was a good tactic. Already, her heart rate had nearly doubled, but she wasn't about to let him get the upper hand. Besides, the throb rushing through her veins right now beat sitting in her room alone. She tilted her face upward. "Well?"

  "If we play, I'm not going to show you any mercy."

  She laughed. "Oh, wow. Pretty certain of yourself, huh?"

  "You're the one who invited me to play. If you don't think you can handle it, better back out now."

  She pulled the poker chip case from the shelf and pushed it to his chest. "Not a chance."

  His eyes sparkled with excitement, and she loved that she'd brought about that reaction.

  Milo set up the game at the kitchen table, and Ariana brought a bowl of leftover berries with her as she took the seat across from him.

  She leaned forward on the table, watching his deft fingers flip the cards. "What should we play for?"

  He shifted his gaze to her. "What are you prepared to lose?"

  Her insides heated another notch. She loved this flirtatious side of him. "Funny."

  "How about whoever loses cooks dinner for the week?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Bor-ring." She gave him a wicked smile. "How about clothing?"

  Both of his brows lifted in surprise. "Strip poker? You're not serious."

  "Dead serious. Watching you cook my dinner might be fun, but I think I'd rather see you stripped down to your boxers...or briefs. Whichever it may be." Unless he wore neither.

  "God, woman." A laugh burst from his chest. "What makes you think you won't be the one flashing all the skin?"

  She smiled, knowing he was only seconds from agreeing. "I guess the cards will decide. The overall loser can cook dinner, too."

  He opened his mouth and then narrowed his eyes at her. "You and me half-naked could be dangerous. One of us needs to protect the integrity of our relationship. Keep it professional."

  "What makes you think our relationship will lose its integrity just because you have your clothes off?" She must be crazy egging him on like this, but she couldn't help it. "Are you insinuating that clothing is the only thing keeping us from having carnal knowledge of each other?"

  "Are you insinuating it's not?"

  She laughed, thoroughly enjoying herself. "You are pretty certain of yourself, Deputy Sykes. All you need to do is take off your clothes and women throw themselves at you, right?" If he said yes, she'd probably believe him. He'd be a hard man to turn down.

  "You're the one who said it, not me."

  "Wow, you're cocky." And far too attractive for her good. "Then let's add another bet on top of this one. I'll bet you can sit in front of me totally naked, and I can walk away. You can bet the same and protect your precious integrity. Care to wager?"

  Mischief lit his sexy eyes as he held out his hand for her to shake. She placed her hand in his. Instead of shaking it, he tugged her toward him. She lifted out of her chair and met him halfway across the table. "You're going down," he whispered.

  She laughed and pulled away. "Deal the cards, sucker." She plopped a strawberry in her mouth and let it melt against her tongue.

  Milo shuffled the deck a few more times and positioned it in front of her to cut the cards. She did and slid the deck back to him. He placed his hand over hers on the deck, and she had to slide hers from beneath him, the experience a seductive play of sensations that she was sure he meant to happen.

  That was okay. Two could play this game. Ultimately, she would not lose.

  A brilliant flash of lightning lit the room as they anted up. Milo placed a card face down in front of her and then one for him. She smiled as he dealt her the jack of diamonds face up. Then he placed the eight of clubs in front of him. "Not looking too good for you," she taunted.

  "It's only one card, darlin'. The game is far from over." He lifted the corner of his face-down card and smiled.

  He was only goading her, trying to make her think he had something good. She was sure of it. Or almost sure of it. She peeked at her card. King of hearts.

  A grin spread across her face as she looked at him.

  "I'll start with two." He tossed a couple of chips in the middle of the table.

  "I'll match your bet and raise you two." She slid four chips toward him. He arched a brow.

  He matched her bet and then flipped their next cards. Another king for her. The five of spades
for him. She kept her half-smile in place as she met his gaze.

  "Your bet."

  She slid two more chips into the pile, giving him a playful smile. "Ready to fold?"

  "Hardly." He added four more poker chips to the center of the table and returned her grin.

  She matched his bet, searching for a hint of emotion in his expression. He couldn't seriously think his hand beat hers. At this point, if she'd only held a five and an eight, she'd fold. What was he hiding?

  He dealt two more cards, an eight for her and a three for him. She tossed down another bet, and once again he upped it.

  "You're bluffing. You haven't got anything." She matched it and added another four.

  He tossed in more chips. "You seem a little worried to me. Perhaps you should be."

  "I don't think so."

  The last round of cards gave him an eight and her a jack. Triumph flared inside her. There was no way he could win now. "You think you've beat me," Milo said, a touch of laughter in his voice. "I can see it in your eyes."

  "Perhaps." Between their two hands, three eights lay on the table. The odds of him having another eight were off the charts. The best he could have would be two pair, and it would be hard to beat the two pair she held.

  He snorted. "Did I mention I get to pick which piece of clothing you lose first?"

  He looked so damn confident. He had to be an excellent bluffer. Had to be. She glanced at her cards again.

  "Fifty." She tossed her chips on the pile. "If you want to see what I've got, you'll have to pay."

  He studied her, his startling blue eyes leaving her anything but cool. He slid a pile of chips into the center. "I'll call."

  She flipped her cards, pairing her kings and jacks, giving him a smug grin.

  She was surprised when his smile not only stayed on his face, it grew larger. She lowered her gaze, widening her eyes as he turned over another eight. "No way."

  "Way." He crooked his finger at her. "Come here, darlin'. So I can have a better look at what you're wearing before I decide what goes."

  A shiver rushed through her. "I don't think so."

  "Are you going to be a sore loser?"

  "No, but there was no discussion beyond removing clothing. Nothing said about you inspecting me."

  He called her again with a nod of his head.

  "You know if you torture me now, it's going to come back to haunt you when you lose."

  "Maybe. Maybe not. Now get over here." A loud roll of thunder accentuated his words.

  She grudgingly stood and walked toward him. He watched with heavy-lidded eyes, obviously enjoying her approach. She stood in front of him and jutted one hip to the side in a show of attitude. "Do your worst."

  "Oh, I intend to." He shifted in his chair, eyeing her up and down, his gaze leaving a smoking trail down her body. "I'd really like to see you out of those pants, but since I've already had that view, I think I'll go with the shirt first."

  "What?" She gave his arm a friendly smack. "I told you not to look."

  "But I didn't agree."

  "You are not an upstanding officer of the law."

  "Honey, I might be a lawman, but I'm still a man." He tugged on her shirt, looking up at her under raised brows. "Off."

  She exhaled a sigh of frustration. He was good. Damn good. There was nothing she loved more than a worthy opponent. Well, except a worthy opponent with his shirt off.

  The first button on her cotton shirt offered no resistance as she undid it. The second quickly followed.

  "Wait. Slow down. I want to enjoy this."

  She lifted a brow, her internal temperature shooting through the roof. He wanted a show, did he? Fine. She'd give him one that would make him regret his little professional relationship speech. She might have lost the first round of cards, but she'd be a fool to not take advantage of her current opportunity. "Whatever you say, deputy."

  She stepped forward putting one of her thighs between his, bringing her breasts just above his eye level. She wasn't sure where the hell she was going with this, but right now she didn't care. She'd spent so many months hiding from her father and essentially from life. The sparks between her and Milo were intense, addictive, and she couldn't stop.

  She trailed her fingers down the gaping vee of her shirt to the third button, his eyes widening with interest. She popped the button open, revealing a good expanse of her bra.

  His smile grew bigger. "Mmm…purple. Sexy." He took hold of her hips as though he was afraid she'd bolt.

  She removed his hands. "Touching was not part of the game."

  His gaze jumped to hers and then narrowed. "Touché."

  She finished unbuttoning her shirt with agonizing slowness, wondering if she was torturing him or her more. When she finished, she put her hands behind her back, tugging off her sleeves, and conveniently thrusting her breasts forward.

  The feel of his warm breath on her skin and the dark desire burning in his eyes caused her to inhale sharply.

  "Shit." He stood so fast his chair nearly toppled. He backed away from her, his face a mixture of passion and agony. "I concede. You win this round." He headed for the back door. "I need some air." The alluring smell of rain rushed in as he walked out.

  Just like that she stood in his kitchen, shirtless and stunned. "What the hell?" she muttered as she pushed her hands through her sleeves and followed after him. He couldn't walk away like that.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Milo strode out the door, continued past the porch, stumbling to the center of the yard. He lifted his face toward the heavens, letting the blessed cool rain wash away some of the heat consuming his body. The back door slammed. He knew she'd come outside, but he wasn't ready to face her yet.

  She shoved his arm, her anger evident as he turned to her. "What the hell was that?"

  "Go away, Ariana." He owed her an explanation, but he wasn't sure he could explain the fiery ball of desire that had overwhelmed him while the storm raged outside. He'd thought their teasing might have been a fun way to spend the evening, even though he knew he'd ignored many policies the U.S. Marshals would have held him to. But he wasn't in the Marshals any longer, and they were both adults.

  He'd been dead wrong. He'd thought he could handle himself with her? Big joke. Even now with her standing in the rain, her shirt still unbuttoned, all he could think about was how badly he wanted to pull her to the grass and make fierce love to her.

  "No. You need to talk to me. One second we're flirting and having fun, and then you bail with no explanation. That's not okay."

  He gave her a chilly, don't-mess-with-me look. He was such a dumb ass. How could he have forgotten what had happened the last time he didn't follow the rules? Yes, Ariana was the sexiest thing he'd come across…maybe ever, but she wasn't his for the taking. Intense chemistry between them made the situation extremely volatile. He had to remember she was only a client, not the smartest and sexiest woman he could remember meeting. His job was to protect her life. Her job was to stay alive to testify and then move on to a permanent new identity. He'd never see her again. But she'd be alive. "I've already explained to you about maintaining the integrity of our relationship."

  "Yes, you did, but I thought we agreed we could handle it. You seemed so cocky, so self-assured inside. What happened?"

  He'd never be able to explain how much his feelings for her terrified him. He glanced down at her chest where her blouse still remained open. "You need to button that."

  She frowned, clearly unhappy with the direction their evening was headed. "Not until you talk to me." She pushed away the wet strands of hair that had plastered to her cheeks.

  He worked the muscles in his jaw, trying to maintain some semblance of control. "Why can't you do what I ask?"

  "I'm going to be stuck in this house with you for the next month, so I need answers. If there's a problem, let's talk like adults. If that's not an option, I'll pack and find somewhere else to stay."

  An angular flash of lightning cracked the
sky as his heart jolted. "Do not leave my protection." God, the last time that had happened…he couldn't think about it.

  He grabbed her hand and more or less dragged her to the porch, out of the rain. "If you want to stay alive, you need to listen to me when I tell you to do something." A drop of water cascaded down her neck, capturing his attention as it ran over the curve of one breast and under her purple bra. "You need to do up those buttons, or better yet, go inside and dry off."

  She folded her arms under her breasts, lifting them higher, and he cursed under his breath. "Talk to me."

  The fact that he couldn't control her heightened his frustration. Emotion warred beneath his surface. He had to make her see reason. He pushed her backward, trapping her against the door. She widened her eyes, but it wasn't fear on her face. The smoldering look she gave him sent a sharp, pointed tremble straight through him, undoing everything the rain had cooled.

  He leaned down so his face was inches from hers. "You really want to know? Fine. I'm attracted to you. Extremely attracted. But I've been charged with your protection. I should have refrained from flirting with you. Rule number one—don't get personally involved with your clients. It's not ethical, and it's not smart."

  And it could cost a client her life.

  He gave her the most intense look he could conjure, hoping she'd get the point. It was the only way they'd survive the month intact. If he was still in the Marshals, he could ask to have her reassigned. Not now. He was her last hope.

  She searched his eyes, and he was almost certain he'd gotten through to her. "I don't care."

  Before he could question her further, she snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, pressing her lips against his in a possessive kiss.

  Her warm lips tasted like the berries she'd nibbled, and he couldn't deny himself any longer. Need exploded inside him. He shoved her against the door, framing her face with his hands, losing himself in the exquisite feel of her.

  Her tongue danced against his, her hands slipping under his wet t-shirt and finding bare skin. Unbelievable sensations sent his blood shooting through him, making him rock hard. He kissed her until he couldn't breathe. When he came up for air, reality gave him the bitch-slap he deserved. He stumbled back.