She closed her eyes as he eased his fingers out. Just as well. He didn’t want her to see the mess he was in. God, he hadn’t shot in his pants since he was a kid.
He brushed a kiss across her lips as he lifted himself off her to lie beside her until he could get his legs to work. What he wouldn’t give to just sleep. He closed his eyes. Just for a minute, he told himself.
Not even the ringing of his cell phone could make him open his eyes, and he unclipped it from his jeans, flipping it open and answering it in a decidedly sluggish move.
“Yeah?”
Her brain still struggling to put the pieces back together, she closed the buttons on her dress, her eyes snapping open at the low growl that greeted that movement.
She could have sworn, for just a moment, that Randy’s eyes glowed.
With only half an ear on the conversation, she shut her eyes again. All she wanted was to sleep. But her attention was pulled back to Randy when he eased off the sofa.
Through half-open eyes, she watched him walk along the hallway in the direction of the stairs, fully appreciating the broad, muscled back covered now in a light sheen of sweat. She shook her head at what had just happened. Still trying to figure out how it had happened.
She had to move, even though her body wanted nothing more than to stay right where it was. Her legs wobbled a bit when she stood and she grabbed for the sofa to steady herself. Maybe a shower would help. Clear her head at least while she tried to sort out how she ended up flat on her back with her legs spread.
She padded down the hall after Randy, but as she neared she didn’t miss the lowering of Randy’s voice. She paused and listened.
And then wished she hadn’t.
“…no, I can’t come over tonight… Because I’m on a job…”
Oh, now she was a job? Crissy wondered which part of the past half hour or so constituted “work”.
“Now don’t be like that, Luisa baby…”
Luisa baby?
“No, that’s not what I mean… Why, what’s the problem?… Maybe later. I don’t know…”
Well, so much for after-sex warm fuzzies. Crissy could feel it evaporate as anger flared up. Just for a moment before she smacked herself mentally. God, she was an idiot. A stupid, idiotic moron. As blonde in the brain as her hair color suggested. Hell, she knew what he was like—from one woman to another. Why was she surprised? What made her think he’d be different with her?
Further mental flagellation was suspended when her phone rang. She rushed back to the kitchen to grab the extension.
“Hello?” she barked.
“Crissy! Where the hell are you?”
“Jerry?”
“The same. What’s going on? I thought you said you’d be here by now.”
Damn! “What’s the time?”
“Nine-thirty. How soon can you get down here?”
“Give me half an hour. Sorry, hon.”
“Yeah, yeah, you can make it up to me later,” he teased. “I’ll be waiting at the bar.”
“Gotcha.”
She hung up the phone and headed upstairs to her room, noticing that Randy was still on his cell. Talking to Luisa, whoever the hell she was. Couldn’t he do that somewhere else? Like, his place?
Totally ignoring him, she took a quick shower. Figuring there was little point in modesty after what had just happened, she raced naked over to her closet to grab something to wear. A smile lit her face when she pulled out the blue jersey, strapless tube dress. Considering it fit her like a second skin, that also meant no bra and no panties—not even a G-string. Jerry had a thing for it, probably because firstly, it showed every freckle and bump on her body, and secondly, the guys never seemed to mind getting their photo taken when she wore it.
She was bent over brushing her hair when she heard Randy enter the room. Flipping her head back, she fluffed it into place and ignored him while she put on a pair of large gold hoop earrings and touched up her lip gloss. A light touch with some concealer minimized the remnants of the bruising on her face. As a finishing touch, she stepped into a strappy pair of blue stilettos.
When she turned back to him, he was standing there with his hands on his hips, glaring at her.
“I’m heading out. To work.” She grabbed her camera bag off the table where her laptop normally sat and moved to the doorway.
He slipped in front of her. She stepped sideways.
He followed. She moved the other way.
“Something wrong?” she asked, her tone brittle and hard.
“Yes.”
“And?” What was his problem? He looked like he was about to blow a blood vessel. Good! Maybe Luisa baby could kiss it better for him.
“What is that?” He nodded at her dress.
She smiled sweetly at him. “Well that’s a surprise, Casanova. I thought you of all people would recognize a dress. You’ve certainly helped enough females out of them.”
“It is not a dress. It’s an overgrown elastic band, and you’re not wearing it.”
“Ex-cuse me?”
“Christ, Crissy, a guy can almost tell if you’ve had your appendix removed in that thing.”
“Clever boy.” She patted his cheek. “And very observant. That’s why I wear it. When they’re drooling, they’ll let me snap anything I like. It’s really very effective. And in case you’re wondering, the appendix is still there. Now,” she pushed him aside, “if you’ll excuse me…”
He grabbed her arm, making her teeter on her heels for a moment before she got her balance back. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”
She glanced at his hand and then back up at his face. “Well, big guy, you better get moving, because I’m leaving in five minutes.”
Chapter Six
Staring blankly into the amber brew, Randy pondered how quickly a day could go from heaven to hell. For too short a time, he’d had Crissy right where he’d been dying to get her since New Years—all soft and ready for him, hot and wet and willing—until that damn phone call screwed things up.
Now she was flashing that sexy little smile and flirting with every guy she ran into—except him. And he had to watch every male with his eyes hanging out in the dimly lit club as Crissy swished that electric-blue ass in front of them.
At least she was in the function room out the back for a while. Where he wasn’t allowed, because she was working. She’d better be damn well working…
Perched on a bar stool, leaning on the bar, he took another long draw on his beer.
“Hey, man! What’s happening?”
Randy didn’t even bother turning as Chad leaned back against the bar on his elbows, looking out at the crowd.
“Not much.”
“Where’s our little lady?”
He tossed his head in the direction of the function room. “Out there. Working.”
“You don’t sound too happy. Trouble in paradise?”
He didn’t answer. Just took another pull on his beer instead. No way would he give Chad the satisfaction of knowing what was going down between him and Crissy.
The music started up again, making it hard to hear anything above the grinding beat. Not to mention the strobe lighting was giving him a goddamn headache.
“C’mon, grump. Let’s go join Marcus. We’ve got some news.”
Chad motioned to Bill, the barman, for two more beers, and they threaded their way through the crowd over to where Marcus was holding court with a couple of leggy but very classy blondes in his usual corner spot away from the blaring speakers of the DJ. That was Marcus—class all the way. Tonight he looked like the chairman of the board—short haircut, impeccable suit, tie—but the chicks just couldn’t stay away.
“Would you ladies mind?” asked Marcus with a smile to the ladies as he and Chad approached.
Randy shook his head and grinned as they got up, each lady bending over for a kiss before they left.
Sinking back into a soft, black leather seat, he considered Marcus. “So, what’s this abou
t?”
“One of my men believes he may have found out the identity of the two weres who attacked Crissy.”
“How?”
“The stolen camera. The first assailant tried to fence it. He was followed and led us to his accomplice. They’re under observation to see if we can ascertain who is employing them. But these two are particularly unsavory. No morals at all. Crissy was very lucky—on both nights.”
“Names?”
“Louie Bastano and Rick Cantilana. Ring any bells?”
“Sure,” said Randy. “I know of Rick. Freelance scum from Florida. Heard he just got out of jail six months ago.”
“Yes, true. He was the one with the camera. Small fry mostly. Louie, however, is another matter. From New York. Ties to one of the big gangs up there. His record is a little more ‘colorful’, to say the least. Apparently he likes women—especially when they’re his victims.”
Randy felt a chill pass down his spine. “Rape?”
“Not convicted,” said Marcus, “although charges dropped on three attempted.”
“Shit!”
“My thoughts exactly. I would hate to see Crissy become number four. She’s a lovely young lady.” He watched Randy closely before continuing. “But whatever she has, or they think she has, it must be dangerous. You’ve been over her work?”
“Yeah, for the last four weeks. Nothing I could see.”
“Hmmm. Perhaps it is something a little less obvious. Something she isn’t aware she has.”
“You mean, like she took a photo and somebody ended up in it who wasn’t supposed to be there?”
“It’s a possibility.” Marcus pulled a card out of his pocket and scribbled on it. “Call him.”
Randy looked at the card. It was Marcus’ business card, but on the back was an unfamiliar name and number.
“Rob has some special skills, especially with photography. Does work for the New Orleans crime lab on occasion. He may be able to help.”
“Thanks, Marcus. I appreciate it.”
He waved his hand in the air. “No problem.”
“Maybe not with him,” Chad leaned closer to Randy, “but don’t look now. Looks like you’ve been spotted, man.”
“What? Who?”
“Luisa Santiago, and man, she looks hot!”
“Fuck!”
“Knowing her, that’s about the size of it, stud.”
Christ, just what he needed. Her perfume hit him first, making his nose itch. Followed by the rest of her. When she ran her long nails through his hair, he felt a shudder of repulsion race over his body. God, was it only a couple of weeks ago he’d been rolling around in bed with her? The thought of repeating that made his stomach turn.
He had to grit his teeth when she planted herself on his lap.
“What’re you doing here, Luisa?”
She pouted. “You sounded so…I don’t know, so offhand on the phone. I thought something might be wrong.”
Something was wrong, all right, and she was it.
He tried to get her off his lap, but she clung on around his neck.
“I’m working,” he said through gritted teeth.
She glanced around at the empty beer bottles on the table. “Could’ve fooled me. Can’t you just have one dance with me, Randy? Come on, Chad can keep an eye on things while we’re gone, can’t you, Chad?”
Chad grinned. “No, as you can see, I’m busy working too.”
Her arms tightened around his neck, her warm breath brushing over his ear. “I’ll make it worth your while…”
Every nerve ending in his body rioted against her closeness, and he stiffened. Just the thought made his stomach clench. What was wrong with him?
“Come on, sugar pie,” she pouted. “Just one. Promise.”
“Geez, cut it with the cutie-pie names, Luisa. You’re making my teeth ache,” said Chad. He looked around her to Randy. “Get her out of here, man. Dance with her or something. You know she won’t leave you alone until you do.”
“But Crissy—” started Randy.
“Crissy’ll be a while yet—that thing out back’ll likely go for hours.”
“Who is Crissy?”
The pout on Luisa’s face deepened and Randy sighed. “She’s the…ah…job I told you about.” He caught a look of consternation on Chad’s face, followed by a distinct frown of disapproval from Marcus. But there was hardly any other designation he could give her, considering they hadn’t even gotten naked together yet. What was he supposed to say? Oh, she’s my mate, but I just haven’t nipped her yet?
A lazy blues number came on and Luisa spun on his lap, rubbing herself against him, sliding her pussy over his leg.
Nothing. He didn’t feel a damn thing. Except that he wanted to be anywhere but there. His dick sat inside his pants as limp as sausage with no meat. Now if that had been Crissy wriggling on his lap, he’d be setting the land speed record to get back to her place and naked.
He grabbed Luisa around the waist and pushed her back, trying to get her off his lap in earnest now, but she clung on tighter, sticking to him like a magnet.
Hell, just what he needed…
* * * * *
Crissy waited until Jerry put away his mini tape recorder before turning off her camera. “We done now?”
“Yeah, doll. That’s it for tonight. Got some good stuff though. The Digest has been wanting a scoop on these guys for months. No one’s been able to get near them.”
“So how did you get so lucky?”
“Contacts,” he said and grinned.
“Uh-huh, and what’s her name?”
He pulled her to him and gave her a quick peck on the forehead. “Ahh, you know me too well, sweetheart. By the way, you look real hot tonight. You know how I love you in blue.”
“You love me in as little as possible, you rat. I still haven’t forgiven you for that nudist camp you dragged me along to.”
He screwed up his lips, trying to hide the smile. “Hmmm…that was one highlight of our working relationship, wasn’t it though?”
“For you, maybe.” She screwed up her mouth in distaste. “But for me, the sight of so many old guys walking around with hard-ons, knowing I was most likely the cause, is not a memory that keeps me warm on cold, rainy nights.”
He hugged her one-handed and laughed. “I noticed the zoom lens stayed in the bag that week. But you’ve gotta give ‘em a break, Cris. You’d give a dead man a hard-on.”
“Even you?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him.
“Hell yeah, even me.”
She looked up at him and grinned. The man was like sex on a stick. Typical cliché—tall, dark and handsome. All the women loved him. And while she could certainly appreciate all his assets, and the little spark of sexual attraction had definitely been mutual, for some reason they’d just never gotten together.
“So why have you never made a move on me?”
Wrapping his other arm loosely around her waist, he looked at her seriously, for once the teasing laughter absent from his eyes. “Because I really like you, doll—personally and professionally—and if I thought for a second I could give you what you need, I’d be there in a heartbeat.”
“You know what I need?”
“Yup.”
“I’m glad one of us does.”
He laughed. “I’ll bet I’m not the only one. Your bodyguard out there looked like he wanted to tear any man apart who so much as breathed near you.”
“Randy? No way. He just wants what he thinks he can’t have.”
“And can he?” Jerry asked, humor lighting his eyes.
“If I had a brain, the answer would be no. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”
He waited while she hoisted her camera over one shoulder and slung his arm around the other one as they left the room, walking down the short hallway back into the main part of the club. “Well, doll, you’re gonna have to take a guy’s word on this—he only had eyes for you. Believe me.”
She stopped dead. The s
ight of Randy sitting with Chad and Marcus, his hands on the waist of a long-legged brunette who was squirming on his lap in a way that left little to the imagination, was enough to make her blood run cold. “Still think so?” she said to Jerry. His arm tightened around her, and she glanced sideways at him to see him frowning heavily in Randy’s direction.
Uncomfortable heat, not unlike she was coming down with a temperature, was rushing over her body, making her feel faint the longer she watched Randy. Just the sight of him with another woman made her feel ill. Disquieted, she shook her head and looked away from him.
“You’re not leaving, are you, Crissy?” She turned to see Chad at her elbow.
She tried to smile but it was a feeble effort at best. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“And who might you be?”
At the overt protectiveness in Jerry’s tone, she couldn’t help but smile, and patted his arm. “Jerry, this is Chad Lightfoot. He works with Randy. Chad, this is Jerry Deacon.”
From her hand on his arm, she could feel some of the tension leave Jerry’s body as the two men shook hands.
“It’s not what you think,” said Chad.
“You know what, Chad? It’s really none of my business what Randy does in his personal life. He could have the whole female cast of 42nd Street sitting on his lap for all I care.”
“I can give you a ride if you like, Cris,” said Jerry. “It’s on my way.”
“You might want to hang around,” suggested Chad. “Randy could probably do with some help getting rid of Luisa.”
“Luisa?” Luisa!
Chad looked at her, bemused.
“Thanks, Jerry. Let’s go. Chad, I’m sure Randy will manage just fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe.”
Chad grabbed her shoulder as she turned away to leave. “You don’t need to worry.”
“About what?”
“Randy.” For once his expression appeared serious. “You’ve got him, you know.”
She lifted her head and glanced at the man in question. “Of course. I’m convinced. Truly. Anyone can see just looking at him how totally besotted he is with me.”
“Ah, don’t worry about her. She’s nothing.”
“Maybe someone neglected to inform her of that little fact,” she grumbled. “Look, Chad, I don’t care. How much clearer can I make it?”
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