Silk, Lace & Videotape

by Joanne Rock

  He kissed his way down her breasts, over her belly, to pause at the juncture of her thighs.

  As much as he wanted to be inside her, he wanted the taste of her in his mouth even more. He’d barely found her sweet center, scarcely appeased his hunger for her, when her body tightened like a bow beneath him, her thighs clenching his shoulders in a vise.

  He reached into the sofa cushions to retrieve her box of condoms, his hands unsteady with the need that rode him hard.

  Amanda sat up, her body still shaking with aftershocks, her gaze slumberous and sexy. “Let me.”

  With fingers that fumbled and unwittingly teased, Amanda rolled the condom on.

  Unable to linger, Duke pushed her back to their silken blanket, nudging her thighs apart with his knees. He positioned himself over her and claimed her slowly, carefully, wondering when she’d ever been with a man before and thinking how damn precious a gift she gave him.

  Amanda wasn’t a bored socialite attracted to his job for the excitement. She seemed to genuinely want him for him, a fact that amazed and humbled Duke.

  And then she lifted her thighs to lock around his waist and he couldn’t think anymore.

  Every bit of his mental and physical energy was exhausted with the sheer effort not to lose himself in Amanda. Knowing he couldn’t stay locked inside her legs for another minute without plummeting over the edge, he gently disengaged her feet, cupping her calves in his hands.

  He eased into her again and again, nudging her to her own peak. Only when her back arched with a tension that gripped her whole body, her thighs squeezing his in a death grip, did he allow himself to hurtle over that edge with her.

  A primal satisfaction poured through him long afterward, pleasure that went beyond physical to a deep sense of rightness at being there with her. Too tired, too replete to question the feeling, he merely held her in his arms.

  Amanda awoke a little while later to find herself wrapped in yellow silk and Duke Rawlins. She wasn’t sure if she could still move after the intense workout she’d given her body, but she knew she wanted him again.

  After the incredible way he’d made her feel, she wondered if she’d ever be able to wake up and not want him again. The notion scared her to her pink-painted toenails.

  Not that she regretted inviting Duke to stay.

  No, she’d waited too long to experience this to regret their time together.

  For years, she’d suspected her back seat tangle with her college beau had been less than stellar. And now she knew for certain.

  She hadn’t experienced anything remotely close to what Duke had introduced her to tonight. She should probably feel embarrassed that she practically screamed down the Garment District with the orgasms he gave her. But regrets and embarrassment had no place in her relationship with Duke.

  Fear?

  Definitely.

  She had no idea where to go from here. She knew she’d have some serious thinking to do in the morning, knew that once the sun came up she’d have to figure out a plan for how to deal with all of this.

  But for right now, she only wanted to think about how to move a six-foot rock of a man from her living room floor to her bed.

  Wrapping herself in the remaining length of yellow silk, Amanda suspected enticement was her best option.

  She happened to know Duke was rather fond of show-and-tell, and she planned to show him she still had plenty of secrets to reveal.

  SEVEN HOURS AND three condom packages later, Amanda knew she wouldn’t be able to move. She didn’t care how much it turned her on to see Duke’s broad shoulders sprawled across her bed, she had to ignore him if she ever wanted to start her day and finish her designs.

  She needed to get to work after taking the entire previous day off. She spent so much time helping her father during the week the only way she’d been able to start her own company had been to work nights and weekends on her own projects.

  Amanda slid straight from the bed into her robe, more self-conscious of her body in the light, even though Duke still slept. She definitely wasn’t ready for him to see her without her glamorous exterior in place. Although she didn’t need much makeup, she did work hard to look pulled together, to have her hair stylized, her eyes enhanced by whatever the newest trend in cosmetics happened to be.

  Her father appreciated beauty around him at all times, and Amanda had learned long ago she fit in to his world more easily when she complied. Even now, on a day when she wouldn’t be seeing her father, she found herself carefully constructing the façade the rest of the fashion world acquainted with her signature style.

  By the time she’d showered and dressed in working clothes—a slim skirt and a crisp men’s dress shirt— Amanda could smell breakfast cooking.

  Her belly growled in response even as she worried about facing him again. She’d never done this before, never had to face any man on the morning after. How did one behave?

  “Hey, gorgeous,” Duke called easily from his place at the stove. “Who’s Lexi?”

  She blinked, taking in his brawny body at home in her tiny kitchen, his deft flipping of pancakes in a frying pan she didn’t know she possessed, his question….

  “Lexi?” she parroted, drawn forward by the aroma.

  Duke picked up a carton of eggs and read off of a purple sticky note attached to it. “It says, ‘Girlfriend, you have the most atrociously stocked fridge of any woman I know. I brought you some eggs, but save me two for the dinner I’m making you on Wednesday.’” Duke moved a bottle of pancake syrup to Amanda’s kitchen table. “Is this Lexi any competition I need to worry about or anything? Is that some kind of Russian name?”

  His blue eyes were mischievous, but he watched her intently while waiting for her answer.

  Amanda moved into the kitchen and pulled down the juice glasses. “No. It’s short for Alexandra. Lexi is my best friend.”

  Duke flipped the last batch of pancakes out of the pan and onto a plate already stacked high. “Excellent. So I don’t have to worry about any big Russian guy showing up at your door and fighting me for you?”

  The image brought a smile to her face. “Hardly. Although if you were to get on Lexi’s bad side for some reason, my money is always on her in a fight.”

  Duke put their plates on the table and held out her chair. “You wound me, Amanda. I’m tougher than I look, you know.”

  Amanda didn’t imagine many other detectives boasted such a strong physique, but she didn’t think Duke needed any help with his self-image. She helped herself to a taste of her breakfast, starving after the most athletic night of her life. “Lexi is the champion of lost causes and she can wrest money from the stingiest skinflint on the Upper East Side. She’s pretty tough.”

  And even though she’d never stood higher than Amanda’s shoulder, Lexi had always been able to scare off any boarding school bully that crossed her path.

  “You’ve obviously forgotten you’re talking to one of New York’s Finest.”

  Amanda reached for the butter. She didn’t want to insult Duke, but the pancakes tasted like health food, probably because he’d made them with the only kind of flour Lexi ever stocked—wheat flour. “I haven’t forgotten.” She smiled at him to ensure he wasn’t offended that she was using more butter. “In fact, I think it’s pretty exciting. My family’s reputation has been cast into question my whole life, thanks to my father’s friendships with disreputable people. It’s neat to hang around with a guy who’s sort of above reproach.” She rambled as she reached for the syrup.

  Duke observed her closely. Had he noticed her second round of syrup?

  “So you were attracted by the whole cop thing?”

  Amanda shrugged, wondering if it would be worse to have him realize she thought his pancakes were a little dry or to have him think she was a couple of months away from her fuller-figure clothes. She nudged the syrup away again. “Well sure, who wouldn’t be? Your job must be nonstop action and adventure.”

  He watched her with sort of
an odd disillusionment scrawled across his features. Amanda swore he was seeing straight through her carefully cultivated façade.

  Nervous, she rambled more. “Besides, cops are sort of safe dates, aren’t they? A sense of honor comes with the territory. I mean, a badge is like a seal of approval. Or maybe a five-star rating in your case.”

  Duke finished his last bite and wasted no time pushing to his feet and clearing his plate.

  Amanda knew she’d somehow gained back twenty pounds over breakfast because he didn’t even seem to see her anymore.

  “Glad I could show you a good time, Amanda. I probably need to let you move on with your day while I return to my adventures on the police force.” He cleared her plate for her, too, even though she hadn’t finished her pancakes.

  She stood, mute, while he rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. What had she done to warrant this brusque behavior? And who was this terse stranger hustling around her kitchen?

  Amanda gathered her scrambled thoughts just as he finished wiping down her stovetop. “I’m sorry if I’m not very good at this.” She took a stab in the dark, not sure if he was upset with her or if this was just how mornings-after proceeded. So far, she definitely did not like them. “I just haven’t really done this before.”

  For a moment, his serious expression softened. She thought she glimpsed a hint of the man she’d known yesterday.

  “That’s okay.” He crossed the kitchen and paused in front of her.

  Her every nerve ending leapt at his proximity.

  Apparently, his nerve endings weren’t half so inspired, because he leaned down to brush a kiss across her forehead. “I’ve got to get back to work, Amanda. I’ll call you to let you know when Gallagher’s hearing is scheduled.” His gaze narrowed. “You will still testify, won’t you?”

  Amanda had never been given such a heartless dismissal in her whole life. Some of that had to do with the fact that she’d never let a man get close enough to hurt her so much as Duke did in that moment. But the majority of blame she placed squarely on Duke’s broad shoulders.

  “I am happy to wreak my vengeance on people who treat me abominably,” she tossed back, even though it wasn’t true. She hurt inside and she didn’t have a clue what to do about it. She hadn’t wanted a man in her life on a steady basis right now, but she hadn’t meant to send Duke running in the other direction, either.

  At least not yet.

  Duke retrieved his wallet from her living room end table, working his way toward the door.

  She walked him out, her sense of etiquette demanding she be polite even though he seemed to have forsaken all his good manners now that he had slept with her.

  As she unlocked the showroom door, she couldn’t help but think how different her mood had been when they’d entered that door yesterday.

  “Bye, Duke.” She wasn’t good at playing haughty, and she really hated the note they were ending on. Maybe that’s why she found herself saying, “I had a good time yesterday.”

  He paused, lingering longer than she’d expected.

  Their gazes met, locked.

  “You’d better go,” she prompted. “I bet you’re pretty dazzling out there, saving the world.”

  She’d meant to flatter him, to end on a light note. Besides, she did see his job as noble and honorable.

  Too bad he visibly shut down at her words, his gaze sliding away from hers.

  “That’s me—superhero of the streets.” He flashed her a cocky grin that lacked his usual warmth, then planted a formal kiss on her cheek before propelling his way through the door.

  As Amanda watched him through the showroom window, she refused to feel guilty or ashamed of her actions. She’d obviously just misjudged Duke.

  Either that or he’d gotten a peek behind her carefully cultivated façade and didn’t admire the woman she really was.

  In which case, she shouldn’t want him anyway.

  Trudging back up the stairs to her loft, Amanda vowed she wouldn’t allow her one attempt at adventure to taint her workday. She had a job to do—several in fact—to prepare for her fall shows and she wasn’t about to retreat into a tub of ice cream to soothe her raw emotions.

  She hadn’t created a splash in the designer community with that kind of attitude.

  Still, she couldn’t help thinking if Lexi hadn’t stocked her cupboards with her health nut food and wheat flour, Amanda might now be tearing open yet another condom packet with her teeth.

  9

  SHOVING THROUGH THE back door of the fifth design house on his list of prospects, Duke emerged onto Eighth Avenue frustrated and impatient.

  Over a week had passed since Gallagher’s arrest, but drugs still poured through the Garment District. The special task force that Duke and his partner were assigned to had stepped up their efforts to address the problem, but Duke had been striking out all morning.

  Rather, it seemed he’d been striking out ever since he’d walked out of Amanda’s loft five days ago.

  Damn.

  The woman had practically admitted to going out with him simply because he was a cop, that she equated his job with adventure. Didn’t he know better than to tread down that path again?

  Still, he found himself feeling like he’d been the jerk in the long run, not calling her the day after their…night. God knows, he’d been thinking about her. As he walked south a couple of blocks, hoping to run into Josh, Duke wondered if Amanda had been thinking about him.

  He’d been thinking about her pretty much nonstop.

  His first mistake had been bringing his backup copy of her steamy video to his house. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to do anything other than put it some place safe from all possibility of prying eyes. But by the next day, his eyes were the ones longing to pry. For two days, he’d stalked past that damn tape in his living room, cursing and blessing it at the same time.

  The videotape proved to have as much allure as the woman, tempting him to the limits of reason, past the boundaries of his ethics, and straight to his VCR. Once he’d given in to his half-obsessed desire to see her again, he’d been utterly absorbed by her show, reveling in every nuance of her sexy unveiling, enrapt by the way she slid out of her clothes to offer herself to the viewer.

  Now, the well-memorized images of that videotape seemed to replay in one tantalizing loop in his mind.

  He had to admit, Amanda Matthews kept him pretty damn distracted.

  A low whistle from his right halted his steps and his mental video replay.

  Duke turned to see Josh emerging from another design house.

  “Don’t tell me you’re daydreaming again, Rawlins.” Josh scowled. “Did you even remember we were supposed to meet?”

  With Amanda on the brain, what red-blooded guy would be able to think of anything else? “I’ve got bad guys to catch, Winger. I can’t wait around for you all day.” Duke drew up his shoulders and hitched at the lapels to his jacket. “You think the Terminator would wait around for Columbo?”

  Josh fell into step with him as they trekked south through the Garment District. “If he had any sense he would. Didn’t your granddaddy ever tell you the one about the tortoise and the hare?”

  Only about a million times. “Never heard that one. Granddaddy was more of the mind that nice guys finish last. You find anything out, Columbo?”

  Josh jerked his thumb toward Thirty-sixth Street. “Let’s head this way.”

  Duke steeled himself for a walk by Clyde Matthews’s showroom. Amanda’s loft. Didn’t matter to him, right? He was focused on his investigation, not the way he’d mishandled the other morning with Amanda. He’d probably overreacted.

  He’d been meaning to call Amanda to at least say hello, to apologize for the abrupt way he’d left. He’d sent her flowers the next day, but he still didn’t know what to say about their night together.

  Josh pulled out a piece of paper from his pants’ pocket.

  “Herb Rainey.” He shoved the paper back in his pocket. �
��That’s the name of the guy who took Gallagher’s place as fabric supplier to that last designer. Why don’t we stop by Matthews’s and see if they know this guy? Could be he’s taking over Gallagher’s importation scheme.”

  And see Amanda? Not that Duke couldn’t manage a routine questioning with the most distracting woman in Manhattan. Still, he couldn’t help but come up with alternatives.

  “Why don’t we just run this guy’s name through customs and see what we come up with?” He pulled out his cell phone to conduct the request immediately.

  Not that he was avoiding the curvaceous temptation of Miss High Society who liked to walk on the wild side.

  Josh yanked the phone out of his hand. “What’s the matter, Rawlins? Scared you might run into the mob princess?”

  Duke grit his teeth. Cop politics weren’t that much different from playground politics, and he sure as hell couldn’t let his buddies call him chicken.

  “Amanda Matthews isn’t exactly hard on the eyes. Why would I mind seeing her?” Duke wrenched his phone out of Josh’s grip. “But being a hare as opposed to a damn tortoise, I don’t particularly like to waste time. It’ll be quicker to see what customs knows.”

  “You are running scared.” Josh shook his head. “What happened that day you took her out? Did she sic her old man on you?”

  “You think the Terminator couldn’t handle the mob?” Duke hissed, waiting for the call he’d placed to go through. “What was that fabric guy’s name again?”

  “Rainey.”

  They shuffled around the street corner while Duke relayed the information to a customs agent who was part of their special task force.

  As Duke hung up the phone, Josh looked at him expectantly. “Anything?”

  “He can’t get back to us until five o’clock. He’s out on the street.” Duke knew what that meant, but he didn’t like it.

  “So we might as well talk to Matthews or his daughter as long as we’re down here.” Josh slugged Duke’s arm. “Don’t worry, Romeo, I’ll do the talking for you.”

  “You’re pushing it, Winger.” Anticipation punched through him at the thought of seeing her again, and that’s exactly what he had hoped to avoid.