“Or maybe I could talk you into swapping on this one,” whispered Chad in his ear.
Randy throttled back the laugh at his cousin’s comment and smiled back at the lady in front of him. It was an unspoken game between them that if one showed an interest in a woman, the other one would turn on the charm too, just to see who could score. What he’d give, just once, to see Chad get his whiskers in a serious tangle over some female.
“Morning, miss. I’m Randy Trudeau and this is Chad Lightfoot from Were Watching,” Randy said, flashing his ID. “We’re here to see Crissy Carter.”
He had to admit, she sure was a cute little thing, especially when she smiled.
“Wow. That was quick. I’m Georgie, Crissy’s cousin. I made the call. Come on in. Crissy’s through here.”
Chad grabbed Randy’s elbow and whispered in his ear, “Nix that on the swap, man. I’ll be getting the guided tour and checking the house with little Miss Georgie while you get the details from the client.”
Randy snorted softly, a small grin crossing his face as he shook his head. So much for Ziggy’s warning.
They followed Georgie down a long hall past a living room and a separate dining room painted an alarming shade of apple-green that had him shaking his head at the bizarre ideas some people had about interior decorating. The kitchen at the back of the house was a pleasant surprise, though, after the dimly lit confines of the hallway. Wide, open, a bright, sunny room full of cupboards and hanging pots and pans, filled with a cozy warmth, it was the kind of room a person just wanted to settle in and get comfy. Lots of timber. Hardly any of that stainless steel that was becoming so popular. Even though he loved to cook, he liked to feel relaxed about it—not like he was working in the kitchen of Broussad’s. It wasn’t hard to imagine this was where most of the visiting took place.
However, the lady sitting at the table pulled him up fast. Every red corpuscle in his body flooded his cock so the thing damn near punched a hole in his jeans. Even around the bruises and the black eye, he’d know those pouty lips anywhere. He inhaled deeply. Hot cinnamon biscuits and melted butter. If he was deaf, dumb and blind and had his head stuck up an elephant’s ass, he’d know that scent and the lady it belonged to. Recognition sent his whole body on red alert.
It was her. Well, halle-freakin’-lujah!
He searched her blue eyes for some sign of recognition.
Nothing. Not even a flicker.
An unfamiliar flare of disappointment sucker-punched him in the gut. How could she possibly not remember him—them?
Chapter Two
“Hey, guys.” The lady eased herself off the seat until she was standing, an effort he could easily tell caused her a bit of pain, judging by the slight narrowing of her eyes and the clenching of her jaw. An urge to kill whoever was responsible surged through him—rip their head off and shove it down their throat for even touching her, let alone… He didn’t even stop to consider his reaction because she was speaking, and the soft sound of her voice stroked over him, and his body throbbed in response at every nerve ending along the way, all the way down to his toes, which curled inside his boots in response. “Crissy Carter. I’m guessing you’re the professionals Georgie contacted.”
Tall. Yeah, he remembered that much. Compared to her tiny cousin, she was a giant, but still, he knew she was just the height to nestle against him with skin touching skin all the way from top to bottom. She had to be nudging five-eleven if she was an inch. And his hands remembered roving over the fit body underneath that denim miniskirt and T-shirt as if it were yesterday.
All his senses were screaming at him. His nostrils flared, his hands itched, and his cock was beating at his zipper like it wanted to jump out and join the marching band. He licked his lips and, starting at the bottom, worked his way up, eyes roving up a pair of shapely tanned legs with strong thighs just made for holding a man in a killer clinch. He recalled running his hands over that ass especially well—it was a handful and a half…just how he liked ‘em. He’d spun a fantasy after that night that soon became a personal favorite, of her bent over, or kneeling—his dick didn’t care as long as it was behind her, lining up—with his hands braced on those generous hips so he could watch his cock sliding in and out, coated with her rich cream…
He closed his mouth before the panting turned into drooling and he looked more doggie than human. He shoved his hands in his pockets in the hope the damn bulge wouldn’t be quite so obvious.
Chad made a noise beside him, an awkward choking sound that he guessed was supposed to be a cough, but ended up sounding like he was trying to dislodge a fur ball. Randy quickly pulled his eyes up to her face. Shit, a man could get lost just taking in the view.
“If you don’t mind me saying, Crissy, you didn’t call us a moment too soon. You look like one big bundle o’ hurt, honey.”
But not hurt enough that he didn’t want to fuck her on the spot. “I’m Randy, by the way, and this is my cousin, Chad.” Randy was surprised he could still talk coherently considering the turmoil his body was in and the fact that all the blood had fled his brain to take up residence south of the border.
He held out his hand, delighted when she took it, but rather than shake it, he leaned over and kissed it, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled her rich exotic scent. His eyes closed as it swirled around his head, making him feel more intoxicated than after an all-night rum bender. Every hair on his body stood up like screaming antennae going off. Oh yeah, this was the lady, all right.
Heart pounding at the way his senses were rioting, he struggled with the urge to yank her close and lick her from nape to knee. Instead he settled for a little taste test, just to be sure…
Hidden by his lips, the tip of his tongue licked over a small patch of skin on the back of her hand. Hell yeah, only one woman had ever tasted that good. God, he remembered everything about her. Why the hell didn’t she remember him? The thought galled him. He raised his eyes to see her reaction, but rather than jerk away at the touch as he expected, she shook her head at him and laughed.
Admittedly a little nervous-sounding, it was a warm, husky vibration that skittered down Randy’s spine and settled in his balls, pulling them up so tight he nearly groaned.
Running an eye over house security wasn’t the only thing his glance was experienced at, and if he didn’t miss his mark, the bounty of breasts in front of him had to be about a 38DD. His mouth watered just thinking about wrapping his lips around the tight dusky nipples showing through the thin fabric of that T-shirt. And this time he planned on getting closer acquainted with those bundles of delight just as soon as possible—Ziggy could go fuck himself!
“You know, Randy…”
Feeling like a dying man about to be given the last supper, he dragged his eyes back up, fighting the urge to lick his lips. He felt like the big bad wolf in Little Red Riding Hood. Actually, in sounded like a real good idea…
“…you and I will get on a whole lot better if you talk to my face and not my breasts, okay?”
Behind him, Chad laughed. “Don’t mind my cousin, miss. Randy has this thing for br—” He choked off abruptly when Randy took half a step back and ground his heel into Chad’s foot. “F-for bruises.”
“Come on, Chad,” said Georgie, trying unsuccessfully to cover a smile, “I’ll show you the house. Where do you want to start?”
“Bedrooms sound fine to me, sugah,” he said and winked.
The next hour passed with his questions and her answers, Randy barely managing to tamp down on his burgeoning lust long enough to string two words together.
It wasn’t easy though. Those soft blue eyes that lit up and sparkled each time she smiled were a distraction. Damn, but she was gorgeous—bruises, eye with the shadow of purple just beginning and all. Getting her into bed and slipping his cock into the heat he could smell drifting up from her pussy was a foregone conclusion. No way was she getting away from him this time. And even if she was doing her best to pretend she wasn’t attracted to him, hi
s nose told him different. Now he just had to make her realize it was going to happen, and no amount of avoiding it on her part was going to make a damn bit of difference.
Wrenching his thoughts away from his cock, which wasn’t easy considering the damn thing had been pounding out an SOS since the second he’d touched her, he focused on one thing—she needed protection. More protection than a security system would afford her. She needed him—it was a task that had his name written all over it.
From the pervasive scent still lingering even now, hours later, he was even more sure that at least a rogue were was involved. The wolf variety, he was positive—cats just had a different smell about ‘em. And if his suspicions were correct a vamp was hanging about as well, so no way was he letting her out of his sight until they’d found out what the deal was.
The vamps he knew just didn’t mess with humans unless they were looking for a snack, and even then they didn’t go into somebody’s home. The more he thought about it, the more concerned he became that something just wasn’t right, that there was more to this than what met the eye.
An old gray cat, big for a house cat but so seriously on the lean side he looked like a bag of bones held together by fur, came into the kitchen, interrupting his thoughts, and jumped up on Crissy’s lap, purring as it rubbed its head under her chin.
He swallowed the snarl of distaste as Crissy rubbed her cheek against the top of its head. “You’re not one of those cat people, are you?”
“I love cats,” she said and smiled, focusing his attention fully on her lips, “but I never had one until old Fatso here.”
Randy swallowed a laugh. If ever an animal was misnamed, this was it. At least the woman had a sense of humor.
“He came for a visit and just sort of stayed, didn’t you, baby,” she said, and hugged him.
As much as Randy hated to do it, and only because he saw it as a means to get in her good books, he reached to scratch the old fuzzball under the chin.
“Ow!” He jerked back when it hissed at him and scratched out at his hand, leaving a bright red welt over his wrist.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Randy. He’s never done that before. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he grumbled.
Fatso was now sitting up on her lap and doing a smug kitty version of “I’m here and you’re not” gloat at him.
Chad wandered back just then, alone. “Hey, old buddy,” he said, rubbing Fatso behind the ear. The damn cat pressed harder against Chad’s hand and let out a loud purr.
“Well isn’t that strange…” said Crissy.
“What?” Chad looked between the two of them, confusion apparent by the raised eyebrow.
“Quite bizarre, actually.” She frowned as she put Fatso down on the floor, watching him rub up against Chad’s leg before padding away. “Randy just tried to pet Fatso, but he spat and scratched him. And yet you, he took to straight away. Do you have cats of your own, Chad? Maybe he can smell them on you…”
Chad looked like he was about to bust a gut, and a loud laugh finally escaped. “I guess you could say Randy and cats don’t get along—no.”
Randy dropped his head, fighting the urge to hit something.
“Oh. Where’s Georgie?” she asked.
“Said she had to go and teach a class, whatever that means. Said she’d drop back later. Randy, could I have a word with you for a sec?”
Chad walked him back down the hallway, telling him in low tones what he’d discovered. His blood ran cold. This was some serious shit.
Crissy was still sitting where they’d left her, about to take a sip of the fresh mug of coffee in her hand.
“So, what’s the verdict, guys? It was random, right? Or am I a sitting duck for another attack?”
“Right on the second option, babe.” Out of the corner of his eye Randy caught the confirming nod from his cousin.”
“How so?”
“My guess is, whatever they were looking for, they obviously didn’t get.”
“They?”
“Two guys, Crissy—one inside and the other one waiting outside. You were lucky you weren’t hurt worse. My professional opinion is that they’ll be back—nothing surer. And soon. Next time you might not be so lucky.”
“And you need some sort of security system in here bad—like yesterday,” offered Chad. “An amateur could break in here with a nail file. Oh, and I found this outside in the bushes beneath the living room window.” He held up a knife with a bluish handle, and with a flick of his wrist, the four-inch blade sprang open. Hefting it in his hand, he tested the balance. “Semi-auto. This little baby don’t come cheap. Perfect for some nocturnal slicing and dicing. Not yours I take it?” he asked Crissy.
“God, no.”
“Didn’t think so. Nice. A Mad Maxx if I’m not mistaken. So whoever it belonged to, chances are he wasn’t here to prune the hibiscus.”
Crissy looked visibly shaken. “Okay, I’m not stupid. Even I’ll admit I’m a bit freaked now. Suggestions?”
“First off,” said Randy, “I’d consider getting a dog if I were you—”
“No!” snapped Crissy, cutting off Randy’s words before he could finish, pushing her chair back quickly as she rose so that it teetered a moment before all four legs hit the floor again. “No dog. Absolutely. Dogs and I do not get along. I do not do dogs and that’s final.”
Ignoring Chad’s laugh behind him, Randy grinned and folded his arms across his chest as he stared back at her. “Well then, babe, if you won’t get a dog,” he said and smiled wolfishly as she fell nicely into his trap, “I suggest you invite me to stay for a bit. Because this thing sure as hell ain’t over. They haven’t got what they came for, and they’ll be back. You can bet on it.”
Leaning back against the kitchen doorjamb, arms crossed, Chad contemplated the interplay of emotions running between his cousin and Crissy, and couldn’t hide a grin.
After Randy’s pronouncement, the two of them were spatting like an old married couple already, and Randy was barely half a step behind her the whole way round the kitchen while she was slamming cupboards and getting food out of the fridge.
It had been a long time since he’d seen Randy get so hot and bothered and so damn alpha over a woman. The guy normally gave new definition to “laid-back”. But now it looked to him like Randy was already marking out his territory.
What a turnabout. From the time they were teenagers, women had been throwing themselves at his cousin, and Randy had loved ‘em all. But the minute they started showing signs of getting possessive and diggin’ in the claws? He was outta there so fast he left a vapor trail.
Yet now, he was sniffing all over Crissy like she was already the mother of his cubs, and she wasn’t having any of it…
That thought settled with a thud.
Well he’d be stuffed! Chad straightened and looked closer at Randy. Now that he really looked, the signs were unmistakable. His cousin wasn’t just turned on. The way his eyes were darkening, his nostrils flaring as he gripped the edge of the cupboard where he had her hemmed in, and leaning over her, ready to make her heel…he was about two seconds away from sprouting fur and taking her where she stood, although on her hands and knees would be more appropriate from the look on his cousin’s face. He’d seen it enough times over the years from other weres to sure know the signs.
Weeell, doggie! If that didn’t beat all—a werewolf getting his balls in a knot over a woman who didn’t even like dogs…
Laughter percolated through his chest, threatening to break free and Chad had to leave the room before he lost it completely!
Crossing her arms over her chest, Crissy glared back at Randy. Actually, far from being intimidated by his bulk or pissed off, she was just a tad amused. The man reeked alpha male, and they were definitely the best sort to have fun with. Having him around could be interesting, if she could get Fatso to agree.
She shoved against his well-muscled chest with her good hand, expecting him to step back. Which he
didn’t. He merely tilted back from the waist up, which just pushed his groin into her so that she could feel every inch of that hot and very large erection of his pressing into the soft flesh of her tummy.
Oh man! That was some pistol the man was packing. A wicked thought about itchy trigger fingers came to mind, and she had to bite her lip not to smile.
“You find something amusing?” His light-brown eyes watched hers intently, flaring briefly as she took a deep breath, then they flicked down to her nipples before raising to her face once more. She knew they were hard. She could feel it, with an almost painful ache. Hard as rocks. And his wicked half smile just proved he’d noticed too. Damn man.
Damn traitorous body. She tried to wiggle out from under him, but he only pinned her harder against the counter with his pelvis. She had to admit, it was a pretty darn effective way to hold a woman in place. It sure worked for her.
Her laughter choked in her throat when he leaned in and sniffed at her, from her hair, down the long side of her neck and under her chin, inhaling deeply. Oh, Christ! She’d never had a guy so obviously smell her like that before, except… No, it couldn’t be!
A thought that had been niggling at her since the moment Randy and Chad walked in flared to full prominence. Up until now she’d been too distracted to focus on it. But with Randy so close now it was hard to miss it. In the back of her mind, a hazy memory floated around, trying to gain substance.
She sniffed too. And again. This time deeper.
Oh, God, she could hear the bells and whistles going off. She knew that smell. Earthy, sweaty, so distinctively male, it made her want to— Shit!
New Year’s Eve! Oh, crap!
“Ahh…what-what did you say your name was?”
“Randy. Randy Trudeau.”
Her pulse skittered crazily over the last name. Double crap.
A group of her girlfriends had been playing a harmless game of “kiss and tell”, mainly to see if one of them could get laid, since they’d all been without too long, even though for some of her friends’ “too long” was anything more than a month. They picked the guy, and the friend in question had to kiss him—whatever followed after that was just a bonus as far as they were concerned. It was a case of one too many vodkas under her belt, or she wouldn’t have been game. Hell, she hadn’t even known who he was when they pointed him out. Although they’d taken great delight in informing her the next day. Half the battle had been getting close enough to him—the man had a harem of hangers-on that would put a sheik to shame. Considering how he kissed—as she found out following an in-depth “getting to know you” with every taste bud in his mouth, that started on the dance floor and ended up in some dark corner of the bar—it was no surprise.
Candid Camera Page 3