by Taylor Lee
Chief McElroy was the first of the group of men including Reynolds, the mayor, and the commissioner, to speak. “Phew, Jax. Damn, man, you really do come as advertised. I think it’s safe to say that none of us would have had the guts to enter that catfight.” At the agreeing nods from the other men, Mac added, “And thanks, man, for supporting Sergeant Moreau. She is exactly as you described her. We spend too much time cataloguing her challenging behavior and not enough extolling her strengths.”
Jax responded coolly. “I simply stated the truth.”
****
Viviana joined Mick O’Reilly and Travis Jenkins, who were huddled with a group of other police officers at the bar. Quaffing back a hearty shot of Maker’s Mark, she did her best to participate in the shoptalk banter. After the third time one of the men asked her if she was all right, she knew she had to get away.
“Sorry guys, I need a breath of fresh air. The smell of these rich bitches’ sickening perfume is bad enough. But watching all these insipid little men measuring their dicks with financial calculators makes it hard to breathe.”
Mick roared. “You’re right on about that, Vivi. You notice that none of those men have dared to join us. They gotta know that we measure our dicks in yardstick inches, not dick inches.”
At the chorus of hearty laughter from her gang of friends, Viviana tossed a smile over her shoulder and headed for the balcony overlooking the patio. Seeking as secluded a spot as she could find at the end of the long balcony, she clung to the railing and gave in to the torrents of emotion overwhelming her. She honestly didn’t know how she was going to get through the crowded ballroom without betraying her anguish. She wasn’t surprised when she couldn’t hold back the sob that rose in her throat.
“Tough night, Sergeant?”
Startled at the sound of his deep voice, Viviana was horrified to see him coming toward her. He was tall, dark, powerfully built, with the stealthy grace of a sleek panther preparing to pounce. She choked on her breath when he leaned in next to her. She realized that the tears she’d been fighting had fallen when Jax reached down and swiped at the tear on her cheek with his thumb. At his touch, she trembled so hard she would have fallen if she hadn’t been clinging to the railing. His dark frown, narrowed eyes, and concerned expression undid her as she stared up at him. Not able to meet his searching gaze, she looked away. In response he moved in closer.
Leaning against the railing next to her, he pressed against her side. Startled by his aggressive move, she knew she needed to leave. There was no way that she could stand next to him without collapsing. She was shocked when instead of pulling away, she found herself drawing closer, leaning into him for support. He reciprocated by putting his arm around her shoulders and tugging her next to him. He was quiet for a long moment, and she was sure he could hear her heart pounding. As it was, she could hardly breathe, knowing that if she took a deep breath, she might lose control of the sobs hovering in her throat.
When he spoke, it was in the teasing way she remembered from those heady times in Belize. “I’m glad to see that you occasionally do as you are told.” Making it clear that he was referring to her dress, he slid his hand across her derrière, letting it rest below her hip. She jumped back, shocked at the shower of sparks that exploded in her groin at his intimate touch. When she shoved at his hand, he murmured, “Uh-uh, darlin’, that isn’t going to work.”
Viviana couldn’t stifle a moan, stunned at the firestorm of sensations ricocheting between her thighs. She knew that she had to get away, that she couldn’t be this close to him. His scent alone was overpowering. She remembered his sexy fragrance from their erotic trysts in Belize. It was a heady mix of expensive cologne, that she now knew was Clive Christian, and the scent of his powerful body. It stole her breath. Managing to croak out a tortured plea, she said, “Please don’t. I . . . I can’t . . . ”
Jax moved in even closer until he was essentially surrounding her. “I remember you saying that the first time I kissed you.”
Truly shocked, Viviana didn’t try to hide her surprise. “What . . . what are you doing?”
He moved behind her, encompassing her between his strong body and the hard railing. When he pressed up against her she felt his burgeoning arousal surging against her bottom. At her startled cry, he leaned down and brushed his lips against the sensitive place beneath her ear. Dragging his lips over the soft spot on her throat, he groaned, a hard male sound. “Do you have any idea what this dress does to me? Do you, baby?”
Viviana couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her lips. She tried desperately not to respond to his heated question. But his overwhelming presence made it impossible to stop the startling sensations rising from her heated core. Murmuring helplessly, she tried again to understand. “Jax . . . what are you doing?”
Jax ground against her, not able to keep from pressing against her curvy ass. Desperate to put his throbbing cock between her legs, he lifted her up onto his hard thigh and drove his cock against her pussy. At her startled cry, he tried to answer her. His voice was ragged, strafed with a hunger that he couldn’t hide.
“What am I doing, darlin’? What both of us know that I shouldn’t do. What we can’t do.”
But the scent of her erotic jasmine overcame his reason. The memory of her pained expression when she saw Deidre coming on to him made him want to hold her, shield her, protect her. But more than that, he had a powerful need to take her. To bury himself in her succulent pussy, to take her as hard and as deep as he could. Ignited with passion, he dragged the hem of her dress up over her ass. At her horrified gasp, he snapped the slender thong separating her firm cheeks and thrust his hand between her legs. Separating her intimate lips with his eager fingers, he reveled in the erotic dew coating his thrusting digits. He had a frantic urge to taste her, to drown himself in her provocative scent. Her passionate cries ignited his body and his spirit. Delirious with lust, he needed her to know how much he wanted her. To make her understand. His voice was ragged with desire.
“Jesus, baby, this dress, this goddamned, fucking dress. You were wearing it that first night. When I knew that you were the incredible creature that leapt off a twenty-foot ledge to what I’d been certain was your death. But you didn’t die, did you? God, if only you had. If only you hadn’t been real. But you were. All too real. In that one moment you captured me, my body, my mind. Christ, my fucking soul.”
Groaning helplessly, he pressed his eager fingers up inside her. Writhing in ecstasy, she ground against him, then erupted with a hoarse cry, her erotic juices flooding over his fingers. So intent on taking her, burying himself inside of her, Jax barely heard the voices. At first he refused to acknowledge that they were no longer alone on the balcony. But the shrill laughter and slurred tones of the approaching revelers confirmed that their private space was being invaded. Likely by lovers as intent on taking advantage of the dark night as he’d been. Forcing himself to pull back, he dragged his fingers from her lush cunt. Yanking her dress down over her naked ass, Jax murmured in her ear. “Goddammit, baby. We . . . have to stop.”
Turning her toward him, he forced himself to see the passionate need that was written all over her face and trembling body. He continued, saying the words that he had to say. “Jesus, darlin’. We can’t do this. Not now, not ever. Fuck it, Viviana. I’m sorry. I apologize.”
Both gratified and sickened that she seemed to agree, he saw her chin go up in the air. Her eyes were flashing electric blue orbs. She shoved her dress down nearly to her knees and drew herself up to her full height. Sucking in an audible breath, she nodded, then turned and walked toward the sliding glass door at the far end of the balcony. When she disappeared into the ballroom, Jax allowed himself to give in to his anguish. Closing his eyes, he willed the moisture blinding him not to fall. Taking several jagged breaths, he saw the satin thong he had ripped off her on the ground. He reached down and retrieved it. Pressing it against his nose, he breathed in deep, then shoved it into his pocket. Assuming his profes
sional guise, he strode across the balcony back into the party that was in full force and showing no signs of ending soon.
****
Viviana hovered in one of the bathroom stalls in the spacious bathroom. For how long, she wasn’t sure; she simply slunk on the toilet seat, resting her forehead against the cool, metal door. When many long moments had passed and she didn’t hear any voices, she dragged herself to her feet. Using the bathroom tissue, she scrubbed at the moisture between her legs. When she was sure that she could stand, she forced herself to leave the protective cubicle. Washing her hands, she pressed a cool wadded paper towel against her forehead, praying for relief from her pounding temples. She did what she could with her makeup to repair her ravished face. When she was as presentable as she could make herself, she strode from the ladies’ room, her chin firmly in the air.
To her surprise, Mick O’Reilly was waiting outside.
“I thought you must be in there, Vivi. I’ve been looking all over for you, sweet cheeks.”
When she frowned and threw him a questioning look, he said, “The commander asked me to make sure you got home okay. Do you need a ride?”
Viviana shook her head. “That’s not necessary, Mick. I have my car. I’m sorry if I delayed you.”
“No prob, babe.” He stared at her, then asked, “So you got the big guy under your spell? He’s already lookin’ out for you?”
Viviana snorted. “Hardly. You know I take care of myself, Mick. I don’t need anyone’s help.”
O’Reilly frowned slightly, then shrugged. “You’re right, Vivi. The big guy must have been making sure all his charges get safely home and are ready to come to work bright and early.”
As they were walking out to the parking lot, Mick said with a grin, “I’m thinking the commander had a good night.”
Shocked that O’Reilly may have seen her with Jax, Viviana managed to keep her voice flat, unconcerned. “How do you mean?”
Her partner chuckled. “I saw him leave with that dark-haired society bitch. Snobby cunt if I’ve ever seen one. But I gotta admit. She’s a hell of a looker.”
Chapter 7
There you are, Commander Hughes. I was looking for you. I was concerned that you might have had a ‘police’ emergency and needed to leave early.”
Hearing the trilling voice, Jax turned to see Deidre Cummings advancing on him. Her smile and bright eyes underscored her interest. Jax would have had to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to understand the aggressive woman’s intentions. Knowing that Deidre Cummings had been looking for him, Jax was horrified. He was shocked at how easily he could have compromised himself and more importantly, Viviana, if anyone had seen them together on the balcony. Silently berating himself for his outrageous actions and thanking whatever gods had been looking out for him, he forced himself to return Deidre’s smile.
“No emergencies, Ms. Cummings.” He tried to cover his anxiety with a self-deprecating remark. “Unfortunately when one is the guest of honor, meeting virtually everyone is de rigueur.”
Deidre laughed, a practiced tinkling sound that Jax realized could easily become annoying. “Of course everyone here wants to meet the handsome new police commander. Why would they not?” She reached for his arm possessively, which further convinced him that this aggressive woman was quickly becoming a pain in the ass. “But never fear, Jax, I’m here to protect you.” Glancing at the small group of men standing in the doorway to the ballroom, she added, “Frank Reynolds, Chief McElroy, and Paul Davis, if he can make it to the car, are going out for a nightcap. You simply must join us.”
Before Jax could make his excuses, Mac joined them, seconding Deidre’s invitation. “Was looking for you, Jax. We’re all going to Flemings, the only bar I know that sells Macallan, the finest scotch I’ve ever drunk. If you haven’t had it, you’ve missed a treat.”
Not wanting to say that he had several bottles of Macallan at home and that he’d give his left nut to head for his solitary patio and drown himself in his angst, Jax nodded his consent. He wished he’d had enough courage to refuse their invitation when Deidre upped the ante.
“How about I ride with you, Jax? Flemings is tucked away in one of the seedier barrios, and I wouldn’t want you to get lost.”
Ignoring Mac’s knowing smile, Jax decided not to make a scene. Nodding in agreement, he moved toward the exit. Spotting Mick O’Reilly standing off to the side with a group of officers, he extricated his arm from Deidre’s clinging hold and excused himself. “I want to say good night to my men. Please excuse me. I’ll meet you outside at the valet.” Handing his ticket to Mac, he said, “Don’t know how busy they are, but go ahead and call for my car, please.”
After making small talk with his officers and thanking them for coming, he said to O’Reilly, “Can I speak with you for a moment, Detective?”
The grinning man looked surprised but quickly agreed as he followed Jax off to the side. “Sure thing, Commander. What do you need?”
Keeping his voice low, Jax tried to sound nonchalant. “I’m not sure where Sergeant Moreau is, and I don’t want to leave without thanking her for coming. Would you please find her and say good night for me?” He added, “And, if you would, Detective, please make sure that she gets home okay.”
Ignoring the surprised expression on the detective’s face, Jax was relieved when O’Reilly shrugged, then readily agreed. “Of course, Commander. I’ll track her down before the guys and I leave. But I gotta tell you, you don’t need to worry. It’s a virtual certainty that Vivi—I mean, Sergeant Moreau, has her own car. And trust me, no one needs to look after our bombshell. She always comes to a gig, sets off an explosion like she did tonight, then saunters out as if she wasn’t the cause of all those men wipin’ their brows and covering their crotches.” He flushed and added apologetically, “Sorry for being crude, boss, but I can tell you that’s the reaction my partner gets no matter where we go. Even at a high-falutin’ gig like tonight it’s inevitable. Vivi and men are like thunder and lightning. The storm she sets off is as predictable as the rain that falls.”
Hearing his name called, Jax looked up to see a smiling Deidre coming toward him. Nodding at O’Reilly, she didn’t bother speaking to him. Instead she reached for Jax’s hand and said, “Our car is here, Jax. We should go.”
Nodding at his detective, Jax managed to loosen Deidre’s grip as they walked out of the hotel together. Opening the passenger door for the elegant woman, who had a satisfied smile on her face, Jax hoped that O’Reilly was right and that Viviana had sauntered out of the hotel. Remembering the shattered expression in her face when he’d pushed her away, telling her that they had to stop, they couldn’t do what they were doing—what he had started—he knew sauntering was as unlikely for her as it was for him.
****
What seemed like eons later but was less than an hour, Jax managed to excuse himself from the collegial group at Flemings. He participated as well as he could in the lively banter but quickly tired of the effort. Glancing at his cell phone, he shook his head. “Sorry, folks, but I’m going to have to say good night. Duty calls.” Seeing Deidre jerk to attention and start to rise, Jax looked to McElroy. “Will you see that that Ms. Cummings gets home, Mac?” He was relieved when Frank Reynolds answered, “That’s okay, Jax, I brought Deidre tonight and of course will see her home.”
Jax would have to be brain-dead to not see the aggrieved look Deidre shot Reynolds. Clearly she’d intended that Jax take her home. He thanked his gods for bailing him out. But as he walked away from the clearly annoyed socialite, he knew his escape was short-lived. A woman as accustomed to getting what she wanted as Deidre Cummings was would not quit. She’d been blatant about her interest in him, and it was a certainty that he would soon hear from her. He reminded himself that she was beautiful and obviously available for whatever rendezvous he might propose. Knowing that was the farthest thing from his mind wasn’t helpful. He sighed, knowing that like the proverbial “Lola,” whatever Deidre wants, Deidre gets.
He groaned silently, acknowledging that “little man, little Deidre wants you.”
****
Sipping on his third shot of Jameson, Jax wrestled with the thought of calling her. He knew that he needed to apologize to Viviana for what had happened tonight. He’d clearly been the aggressor. Trying to understand why he’d done what he did, he reminded himself that he’d followed her out onto the balcony intending to see that she was all right. He’d been infuriated at the way Paul Davis had dragged her into their midst. She’d handled the situation well, putting the haughty Deidre in her place as he should have known she would. After all, he’d seen her dismiss a cartel leader’s mistress and verbally castrate the dangerous criminal who had dared to think he could make her his woman.
But it wasn’t her put downs or saucy rejoinders that had upset him. It was the look of raw pain on her face when she saw Deidre coming on to him. Knowing that he wasn’t interested in Deidre didn’t help. The aggressive socialite had been blatant about her interest, and at least in the beginning he hadn’t shut her down. After all, she was an attractive woman who clearly had sex on her mind. It took seeing Viviana waltz into the ballroom in that damnable dress to remind him that no one, including the beautiful Ms. Cummings, could possibly compete with the blonde bombshell. All of their skirmishes in the last two days came into perspective when he saw her. Any thoughts of putting what had happened in Belize in the past were blown to smithereens.
He’d known he was taking a chance when he had accepted the position. Christ, the three days that he’d spent with her in Belize had been the most erotic days of his life. It had killed him to leave her in the hospital recovering from a bullet wound. Even when the doctors assured him that she would recover from her trauma, he insisted on updates at least three times a day. When she returned to San Jose, he hired a former special operative to give him daily reports on her recovery.