His Hot Number

by Shannon Hollis

  “You like things hot, do you?” He pushed his empty plate away and watched her use her chopsticks to fish the very last piece of beef out of the bottom of the cardboard container.

  “I have jalapeño chiles growing in pots on my patio.” She savored the crispy beef. “What’s that in Latin?”

  “Capsicum something. I don’t think Mom put those in her flower arrangements. But I didn’t mean hot as in spice. I meant hot as in life.”

  Linn swallowed the beef before she’d quite finished chewing it. “What makes you say that?” Hadn’t the women closest to her just finished telling her she was too structured, too busy running away? “Never mind, I don’t think I want to know.”

  “How are you going to get out of having sex with Rick O’Reilly, if he pushes you?”

  The beef lodged in her throat, and she coughed.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She got up and reached for one of the four plastic cups in the cupboard, filled it with water and drained it.

  When she came back to the table, she had an answer. “If it really gets to that point, and I don’t think it will, I’m going to get him drunk. Or help it along with a Valium tablet or something.”

  He huffed a laugh. “Not gonna work.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Tricky Ricky never gets drunk. He may get blasted in the comfort of his own home, but he never lets his guard down in a business situation. Doesn’t drink to excess, doesn’t sample the product. You want to talk about control? Tricky Ricky is the ultimate guy behind the curtain, making sure everyone dances to his tune.”

  She sat back and mulled over the new information. “I’ll think of something,” she said at last. “Lord knows, I’ve had enough practice with you.”

  KELLAN GAVE HER a long, measuring look. It wasn’t that he wanted to shake her self-confidence. She’d proven she could think on her feet. But some things were just too hard to resist. “Don’t forget, we’re sleeping together, too. Unless he’s got it arranged so we don’t, in which case Jealous Guy will join the party.”

  He’d make damn sure of that for a couple of reasons. First, of course, he couldn’t put her in a situation where she’d be alone with Rick O’Reilly and in physical danger. And second, if she was going to play Caroline, he was going to play Dean to the hilt. And that meant sleeping together, eating together, doing whatever it took. Together.

  “Kellan, we can’t share a room. It’s totally against policy for two operators to do that on the job.”

  Just how far did she think policy was going to get them in this situation?

  “Linn, you’re not in Santa Rita anymore. This is CLEU, and contrary to what’s printed on the letterhead, our real motto is Whatever It Takes.”

  He wasn’t into self-deception. This was no longer about the job. This was all his protective instincts rushing to the surface to take care of the barefoot girl in the bathrobe. Yes, she had a problem with that. Yes, she could take care of herself. But he was still going to do his level best to make sure she got through this operation.

  And on the other side…what?

  He’d jump off that bridge when he got to it.

  “It’s going to be hard enough for us to give each other security without you insisting on separate rooms,” he went on. “Besides, that would totally blow our cover.” Her gaze went a little unfocused, and he frowned. “Linn?”

  She blinked. “You’re right. I need to stay with you as much as possible, but without putting the possibility of an introduction in jeopardy. They may insist on you being alone for that.”

  “If they do, I’ll make sure O’Reilly stays with me and doesn’t go hunting for you. Not that I don’t have every confidence you can handle yourself.”

  Linn nodded and began to clear the table. “I’m going to take some of these files to bed and study them for a while. Do you want to use the shower first?”

  He grinned at her. “I’m a morning kind of guy. In all ways. You go ahead.”

  If she thought the killer glare would faze him, she had another think coming. “Is that the kind of thing Caroline is supposed to know?” she said.

  “If she doesn’t know now, she will by the time this is over.”

  LINN’S DEPARTMENT-ISSUED cell phone rang at 11:07 p.m., bringing her downhill slide into sleep to an abrupt halt. Only one person would be calling, though the number on the display was unfamiliar. He’d probably changed his phone again.

  She flipped on the bedside lamp and realized belatedly that they couldn’t record the call as evidence. A “hot number” resided in the third bedroom, but they’d decided to keep things simple and just have Caroline use a cell phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey,” Rick O’Reilly said in what he probably thought was a late-night DJ kind of voice. Low. Sexy.

  Gack.

  Kellan slid into the room wearing nothing but an ancient pair of sweats that clung to his hips and told her in no uncertain terms that he wore nothing underneath.

  She reminded herself that the regulations dictating separate bedrooms were there for a reason. To wit, so that she didn’t have to sleep with flawless pecs and ripped abs. They were there to keep her from crawling on top of him and finding out if the promise hidden under that soft gray cotton was for real.

  “O’Reilly?” he mouthed, holding a hand near his ear with little finger and thumb extended in the shape of a phone.

  She nodded and forced herself to do what she was getting paid to do, which was focusing on verbal evidence from the target, not the bold outline of her team lead’s body.

  “Were you asleep?”

  Caroline. She was Caroline, who slept in a red silk camisole and may or may not be in bed with Kell—er, with Dean at this very moment.

  As if he’d read her thoughts, Kellan stretched out on the empty side of the bed and leaned on one elbow to watch her. She held the phone away from her ear a little so he could hear both sides of the conversation.

  “Not quite,” she said softly to O’Reilly. “Here you are again. Are you missing me?”

  “Oh, I was just thinking about the weekend. About you, and the fun we’re going to have.”

  “Lucky me, with two men to see that I’m entertained.”

  “Only one man, sugar. Dean’s going to have to take a hike.”

  “He might be difficult to persuade.”

  “When you look at it, you’ll see which of us is the best investment in the long run.”

  Kellan’s eyebrows tilted together in a frown, but his gaze never left her face.

  “I always research my investments carefully,” she said. “I want to make sure there’s a good return. And I never gamble.”

  “Funny you should say that. I talked to Hidalgo Martinez this afternoon.”

  Linn glanced at Kellan. Here was a dangerous rock to navigate around. She knew the informant’s handlers had briefed him carefully, but there was always the chance Hidalgo’s loyalties to O’Reilly were stronger than the threat of incarceration.

  “Did you? How is he?”

  “I think you made another conquest last winter. I was almost jealous.”

  “He’s a lovely man. Such a pity we won’t see much of him in future.”

  “I’m sure he’s got good legal advice. He did tell me one thing, though.”

  “What was that?” She held her breath.

  “He told me you don’t play around. That you’re a straight shooter with good connections. My friend in Napa was real happy to hear that.”

  Linn exhaled. “I believe in healthy relationships, business and otherwise.” Hidalgo had vouched for her, given her a rep. She wasn’t just The Girl anymore. She was a player in an international game.

  “Are you doing business on this trip?” O’Reilly’s voice was even.

  Kellan shifted, and his hair moved gently against his bare shoulders as he shook his head.

  “No, darling,” she assured the dealer. “I’m here strictly for pleasure, which is why I’
m looking forward to the weekend, too.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. You in the mood for a little pleasure right now?”

  “Why, are you going to send me a sample over the airwaves?”

  “No, sweetheart. Get your mind off business. I mean a little fun. A little sexy talk. Just between the two of us.”

  Kellan mimed sticking his finger down his throat, and she barely managed to keep her face straight. She kicked him, but with her feet under the covers it didn’t do much good.

  “Actually,” she said when she could be sure there would be no trace of laughter in her voice, “Dean is here in bed with me at the moment. I would love a little verbal pleasure from the lips of a master, but I’d prefer it if we were alone.”

  “Did he hear you say that?” There was anticipation in O’Reilly’s voice.

  Linn glanced at Kellan. “Oh, yes, he heard. You bad man.”

  O’Reilly laughed. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, sweetheart.” Something that sounded like a kiss came over the line. “To be continued, then. Good night.”

  Kellan rolled his eyes and flopped onto his back.

  “Good night, darling. Until tomorrow.”

  She disconnected and then turned the cell phone off.

  “‘The lips of a master’?” Kellan inquired of the ceiling. “Good God.”

  “I’d like to see you do any better. How many of your targets have offered you phone sex?”

  “None, so far. Too bad.”

  “You’re welcome to Rick O’Reilly. Just being on the phone with him gives me an ear infection.”

  He rolled to face her again, his head on the other pillow, while she sat with her back against the headboard.

  “Sure you want to go through with this?”

  “I can do the job.”

  If she pulled the covers up to her shoulders, she’d look like a prim little virgin. If she slid down, he might think she was giving him an invitation. Linn settled for crossing her arms on the blanket, acutely aware that her new red silk camisole lay cool on her naked skin.

  “Besides, it’s too late for you to swap me out now that he’s already met me.”

  She wished she had her old gray T-shirt on, but police-issue PT togs were definitely out of character. Kellan Black lay on her bed looking tousled and delicious, staring at her as if he’d just realized what she had on. At least you could hide behind gray cotton. Between red silk and peekaboo lace, this camisole left her defenseless.

  “Kellan.”

  “Hmm?” His gaze rose slowly to her eyes, innocent as a cherub. A buff, tanned cherub who was making her heart do salsa steps against her ribs.

  “I think you should go back to your room.”

  “Do you really sleep in that?”

  “Only for now. I bought it on the way here. O’Reilly’s going to expect it.”

  “Are you going to let yourself get into a situation where he sees it?”

  “No, but they may go through my things. I thought it best to stay in character.”

  “Right down to the skin. It suits you.”

  “I hope not.”

  “Why? Are you afraid of her? Caroline?”

  “She hasn’t had police training.” Linn’s tone was dry. “She doesn’t know when to stop.”

  “And you do.”

  “Which is why I’m asking you to go back to your room.”

  “It seems to me that two objective investigators ought to be able to share sleeping space.”

  He was pushing her. Seeing how far she would go before she acted. But what would she do? Push him out the door or pull him closer?

  This was impossible. Half of her wanted the first and the other half needed the second.

  “I seem to remember something from the other night that makes me disagree.” If she didn’t look at him, maybe he would stop testing her powers of resistance. Because even as her brain was telling her she shouldn’t get involved, that it was too risky to her career, her breathing was already shallow with anticipation.

  “We need to get comfortable with showing our attraction, Linn.” His voice dropped to a whisper. He sat up and ran a finger along her bare arm. “How are you going to pull this off if you barricade yourself behind the blankets every time I get close to you?” With the same finger, he tugged at the blanket she’d managed to work up under her arms. “In a manner of speaking.”

  “I’ll improvise.” She wished her voice sounded more authoritative, and not quite so breathless.

  “Improv only works in the theater.” He breathed the words in her ear.

  When his lips dropped to her shoulder, then traveled to her throat, she forgot the sensible reply she should make. How could any woman think about sensible replies when Kellan Black’s tongue and teeth were doing delicious, feathery things on her skin?

  He kissed her shoulder and pulled the blanket down all the way. “We don’t need this, do we?”

  Before she could think any further, she found herself flat on her back, the pillows pushed out of the way, and her mouth opening under his.

  He kissed the way an artist painted or a race-car driver drove—with fire and passion and total concentration. In a kiss like that, there was no room for sensible replies or even rational thought. There was only Kellan Black and the way he made her feel.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and welcomed his tongue, strong and hot. Kissing wasn’t against regulations. They could practice kissing without getting themselves into trouble.

  His mouth was amazing. Her temperature rose and her body melted, her thighs parting of their own accord under the weight of his leg. Her tongue responded to the seduction of his, advancing and retreating, circling his, sucking.

  He rolled a little to the side, and she went with him. When his hand tented, hot and possessive, over her breast and its fragile layer of silk, she made a little sound of pleasure in her throat. His thumb stroked her nipple, teasing it, sending tremors of delight through her body.

  “I love the way you respond,” he whispered.

  Responding to him came as naturally as breathing. She wanted him to look, to touch, to taste—and she wanted it now.

  He must have sensed it, because he pulled the camisole up over her head, slowly, and for the first time, she was naked from the waist up under his hot gaze. She forgot that this was her team lead. She forgot they were investigators at all. He was man and she was woman and her body was desperate to have his mouth on her, hungry for his skin against hers.

  “I’ll have to be careful with this, won’t I?”

  Her camisole was bunched in his hand, like a soft blown rose. He lowered it until the lace edge barely touched her collarbone, then moved it with excruciating slowness across her skin.

  “Kellan…”

  “Wait,” he whispered. “We have time.”

  Once, in what seemed like another life, she’d wondered what it would be like to have someone make love to her with a feather. It must be something like this—the exquisite torture of wanting without being able to have, of being touched without really being touched. Oh, yes, she could grasp his wrist and tell him to stop, that she needed more, but then she’d miss out on each tickling sensation of the lace as it circled her breast and began its ascent.

  Just let him adore your body, whispered a voice in the back of her mind. Caroline’s voice. Live the moment. Love it.

  With a sigh of pure pleasure, she relaxed, just as he drew the lace across her hardened, aching nipple, where it caught and held, as if he were making a decision whether to stop or to go on.

  Breathlessly, she waited, and the fabric began to move again, lace leading the way, the smooth coolness of the silk following—not a consolation prize, but a promise of things to come.

  He teased the other breast, taking his time, sending trails of sensation over her skin each time he moved. Then he took a detour and skimmed the fabric down her ribs to her belly, still with deliberate slowness. She had never been watched this closely before, every movement of his dependin
g on each reaction of hers. Such single-minded concentration was erotic in itself, as if all that mattered to him was the pleasure each second brought to her.

  But each second was bringing her closer to that place of total, abject need, and when he brushed her thighs with the soft fabric, she didn’t think she could bear a fresh assault on her senses.

  “Kellan, please…I can’t stand it.”

  “I know.” His voice was husky. “I can’t, either. I’ve been wanting you this way for days.”

  What way? Naked and breathless with desire?

  Her fingers wrapped around his wrist and she met his gaze with wicked promise. “My turn.” He had been holding the fabric loosely, and before he could react, she’d pulled the camisole from his hand.

  “No fair.”

  “I’ll show you fair.”

  She began as he had, at the collarbone, the lace catching and tickling as she drew it across the mat of hair on his chest. She circled his nipples, but didn’t leave him the way he’d left her. Oh, no. Leaning on one elbow, she bit each one gently, teasing with her tongue. He made a muffled sound, and she smiled with satisfaction.

  He must have been watching for her to get smug. “See how you like it,” he growled. Rolling toward her, he lowered his mouth to her breast and sucked her deeply into his mouth. His tongue was just as skillful with her nipple as it had been earlier with her mouth, and he courted it the same way, flicking, sucking, advancing and retreating. He moved to the other nipple and pleasured her there, too, and her body took up a slow rhythm, her hips moving against him in a speechless demand.

  His erection tented the front of his sweats, standing at full mast. She flattened one hand on his abdomen and slid it down to cup him through the fabric. Air hissed through his teeth as she measured his length, squeezing softly. She tugged on the draw-string, and the waistband relaxed, and in a second she’d pulled his sweats off and tossed them away.

  She found the camisole where she’d dropped it, and slid the fabric across his belly, up and over his erection, to his thighs. The silk slid across his skin as though it were liquid, pooling between his legs before it slithered across his hip.