Devil in Dress Blues

by Karen Foley

  Dragging the sheet around her, Sara slipped from the bed and went to inspect. The first was of Rafe and an older woman. Judging from the resemblance, the woman had to be his mother. The second photo showed Rafe and three other men, all in their military dress blues.

  Turning from the dresser, Sara opened the double doors of an enormous closet. Inside, Rafe’s uniforms hung side by side with civilian clothing and he had at least six pairs of military boots lined up on the floor. Next to these were several pairs of dress shoes that were polished to such a high sheen, Sara was certain she could have done her makeup in her reflection from them. Two duffel bags were stashed toward the back of the closet and judging from their size, they were packed and ready to go at a moment’s notice.

  Sort of like Rafe.

  “Looking for something?”

  Startled, Sara turned to see Rafe leaning in the doorway of the bedroom, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand. He watched her closely, and although she couldn’t detect any censure in his expression, he wasn’t exactly smiling at her, either.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, closing the closet doors and clutching the sheet to her. “I was just being nosey.”

  He came into the room and handed her the mug, and a ghost of a smile touched his mouth as he studied her. He wore a pair of jeans and a black shirt that gave him a slightly menacing appearance. She was acutely conscious of her own nudity.

  “It’s fine,” he assured her. “I’ve been known to be nosey myself, on occasion.”

  She knew it was an indirect apology for having gone through her purse and gave him a quick nod. Despite what they had shared during the night, he seemed remote and cool. A stranger. She didn’t know what to say or how to act, and bent her face over her coffee mug to hide her confusion.

  “I’ll let you get showered and dressed,” he finally said. “Then we should probably talk.”

  Slowly, Sara raised her gaze to meet his. His expression was unfathomable and she found it hard to believe he was the same man who, just hours earlier, had touched her so intimately. She nodded mutely and watched as he left, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he went.

  After he was gone, she sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling bereft. Worse, she felt used. Rafe certainly hadn’t distanced himself from her during the night, but it seemed he couldn’t bring himself even to kiss her this morning. He’d probably been grateful that she’d still been asleep when he’d woken up, affording him the opportunity to escape.

  Was this what a one-night stand felt like? If so, Sara decided this would be her one and only. She gave a huff of laughter. She’d been so determined to step out of her comfort zone and do something assertive, and the result was that she felt worse than ever.

  RAFE WAS LEANING AGAINST the kitchen island scanning a newspaper and drinking his coffee when she finally came downstairs. He straightened when she came into the kitchen, his dark gaze sliding over her, and she knew he took in every detail of her appearance. She wore a pair of jeans and a black cashmere sweater that hugged her curves. She’d figured if he could wear black, then so could she. It was fitting actually.

  “Hey,” she murmured, placing her empty mug in the sink.

  “Sara—”

  “I know what you’re going to say,” she interrupted. Drawing a deep breath, she turned toward him and braced her hands on the sink behind her. Bracing herself.

  He merely raised one eyebrow and waited.

  Sara felt herself flushing but pushed determinedly on. “You’re going to say that last night was a mistake. You’re going to tell me that you’re not able to get into any kind of relationship right now, and you’re afraid that I might read more into what happened than what was there. Right?”

  He frowned. “No, damn it. That isn’t what I was going to say.” Pushing away from the counter, he came around the island and stood in front of her, crowding her. “I was going to say that after last night, I don’t think I’m the best person to protect you from whoever is after you. I was going to say that because of last night, I can’t be objective about you.”

  “Oh.” Sara blinked at him. “So…last night wasn’t a mistake?”

  To her surprise, he laughed softly and slid a hand beneath her hair. “Oh, no, lady. I didn’t say that. Last night was definitely a mistake—a freaking huge mistake that I’d repeat in a heartbeat.”

  “Oh.” She searched his eyes, seeing that he was completely serious. Last night had meant something to him. Enough that he was admitting that she’d compromised his objectivity. “I thought—this morning—”

  “I know,” he said, his voice husky. “But if I’d done what I wanted to do this morning, we’d still be in that bed.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She smiled, feeling the hard knot in her chest begin to loosen.

  His hand massaged the nape of her neck. “I meant what I said, Sara. I can’t protect you if I’m emotionally involved.”

  Emotionally involved.

  Sara felt her heart thump hard. Was it possible that after just one night this hard man could really have feelings for her?

  “So what are you suggesting?”

  He dropped his hand. “I have a friend who lives in North Carolina with his wife. He’s Special Ops. You could stay with them for a week or so, until we get this figured out.”

  Sara looked at him in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m dead serious.”

  Sara pushed away from the sink and put both hands up to forestall him. “Okay, let’s get one thing straight. I am not going to North Carolina to stay with complete strangers. You were the one who suggested I stay with you for a week and I’m willing to do that. But there’s no way I’m going to North Carolina.”

  “It wasn’t a request,” he said drily.

  Sara drew in a deep breath and tipped her chin up. “If I can’t stay here with you, then I’m returning to my own apartment.” Rafe’s expression was dark enough that her stomach twisted with nerves. “I’m not going to North Carolina, and that’s final.”

  “Sara—”

  “I can help you find out who was following me,” she insisted. “Rafe, this is my life we’re talking about. Please, let me help you.”

  He turned away and raked a hand over his short hair, clearly unconvinced. But at least he wasn’t giving her an unequivocal refusal. Emboldened, she reached out and laid a hand on his arm, feeling the steely muscles that corded his forearm.

  “We’re not even sure these men are still after me,” she reasoned. “We don’t know for sure what they wanted yesterday when they followed me into the alley. We could be completely overreacting.”

  His mouth tightened and he looked down at her hand on his arm. He looked as if he were debating with himself, and then finally he gave her a curt nod. “Okay. You’ll stay with me. But if at any time I think it’s too dangerous for you to continue to stay here, you’ll go to North Carolina. No arguments.”

  “Rafe—” She started to protest.

  “I’m not willing to compromise on this, Sara. Not when it comes to your safety.” His tone was unyielding. “You need to trust me on this.”

  Sara nodded, recognizing that he was serious and relieved that he was willing to let her stay. She didn’t want to go back to her apartment. The thought of being there by herself after having spent the past hours with Rafe held no appeal. She especially didn’t relish the thought of being alone at night in her apartment. Even if Rafe decided they shouldn’t sleep together again, she’d rather be here than there.

  “Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll trust you.”

  He gave her a slow smile that transformed his face. “Good. Now about last night…don’t you know it’s dangerous to creep around a man’s house wearing next to nothing, when he’s lying in bed fantasizing about you?”

  Sara felt herself blushing as he cupped her face in his hands and lowered his head to press a warm kiss against her mouth. She couldn’t help but respond, curling her fingers around the muscles of
his arms and leaning into him. Too soon, he lifted his head.

  His expression was rueful as he considered her. “I knew from the moment I saw you at the ball that you were trouble.”

  “And yet you still agreed to meet with me,” she said, smiling.

  He laughed. “Yeah. Little did I know that my training and background were no match for the weapons that you have at your disposal.” Then, as if he’d said too much, he turned away and opened the fridge and peered inside. “Hungry? I make a mean omelet.”

  SARA SAT NEXT TO RAFE on his sofa, the little planner open in her hands. They’d spent the past hour poring over the entries and trying to decipher the initials of the clients. Together, they’d drawn up a list of the male cabinet members in the White House, as well as those in Congress and the Senate. Rafe had a laptop across his thighs and was compiling a list of high-ranking military men, as well.

  “Although, I wonder if we ought not to include females, too,” mused Sara.

  “I did some checking,” Rafe said absently. “The Glass Slipper Club only caters to male clientele.”

  “You did some checking?” Sara stared at him. “How? The club has been shut down.”

  He slanted her a tolerant look.

  “Okay,” Sara relented. “I get it. You’re covert operations. There isn’t anything you don’t know or can’t find out. Do I have it right?”

  He flashed her a grin. “Pretty much.”

  Sara leaned over and glanced at the list he was building. “Holy smokes. That’s a lot of names.” She checked her list of initials. “Some of these initials are so common that they could belong to anybody on that list. Or not on that list, for that matter.”

  “Yes, but you also have some unusual combinations that shouldn’t be too difficult to match.” Leaning sideways so that his shoulder touched hers, he indicated a set of initials. “Take this one, for example. How many people could possibly have the initials W.W.?”

  Sara frowned. “Those could belong to William Worthington, I suppose, although I can’t really picture him involved in something like this. Maybe they belong to Wes Wight,” she suggested, naming a popular political commentator.

  “Read me an entry for W.W.,” Rafe suggested.

  Sara thumbed through the pages of the planner until she found one. “Okay, here’s one: ‘W.W.—Dominant alpha. Likes bondage and rough play. Bring blindfold and silk stockings.’”

  “My bet is on Worthington,” he said drily.

  Sara made a face. “Ew. Why would you think that?”

  Rafe shrugged. “Look at the guy.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I mean. He’s a nasty little worm of a man.”

  Rafe returned his attention to the laptop. “Exactly. He’s probably dominated by his wife, or maybe he feels worthless as a man. The Glass Slipper Club lets him play out his fantasies and let’s face it…” He cast her a roguish grin. “Who doesn’t fantasize about blindfolds and silk stockings?”

  Sara’s breath caught at the wicked gleam in his dark eyes. She could picture it clearly—Rafe, bound naked to the bed with a blindfold over his eyes, while she tormented him with her hands and mouth.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “I see what you mean.”

  His gaze sharpened on her with interest. “Do you?”

  Swallowing hard, Sara dragged her gaze from his and flipped through the planner again. “What about this one? ‘J.F.—Playful. Fun. Bring all the toys. Nothing too wild.’” She frowned. “I wonder if she meant that she shouldn’t bring anything too wild, or that nothing is too wild for J.F.?”

  Rafe set the laptop aside and turned toward her on the sofa. A secretive smile lifted up the corners of his mouth as he watched her. “I’d say nothing is too wild. Bring it on, he’s game for anything.”

  Sara tipped her head as she considered Rafe. “Now why would you guess that? Do you know this J.F.?”

  Slowly, Rafe reached out and caught her around the waist and dragged her toward him until she was half lying across his lap. “No,” he murmured, studying her mouth, “but that’s what I would mean. Nothing would be too wild.”

  “Ah.” Sara let her gaze drift over his face, taking in the color that rode high on his sculpted cheekbones and the languorous expression in his eyes. “What would Colette have written about you, I wonder, if you were a Glass Slipper client?”

  “First of all,” he breathed in a husky tone, bending his head to nip playfully at her neck, “you’d never find my name on any client list. Paying for sex is not my idea of a good time.”

  Sara laughed breathlessly and tipped her head to the side to allow him better access. She gasped as his tongue found the sensitive area behind her ear and had to struggle to focus. “Well then, what fantasy would you like to see fulfilled? Maybe I’ll add my own entry.”

  Holding her in the crook of his arm, he slipped his free hand beneath her sweater, his warm palm smoothing over her ribcage until he cupped her breast. Sara sucked in a breath as he began to caress her nipple through the lace bra she wore.

  “This is my fantasy,” he growled softly, pulling the bra down and her sweater up until her breasts were exposed to his gaze. “Having hot sex with a dangerous woman. Or dangerous sex with a hot woman.”

  He fondled one breast, and bent his head to draw the other one into his mouth, suckling and nibbling on her aroused nipple until she squirmed in his lap and pushed his head away.

  “Oh, stop,” she panted. “It’s too much.”

  He lifted his head, but kept his hand over her breast, gently kneading and tormenting her. “Tell me what your fantasy would be,” he urged.

  This was her fantasy. He was her fantasy. She’d fantasized about him from the first night she’d met him, but she’d never actually believed they might be together like this.

  “C’mon,” he coaxed. “Tell me what you want.”

  Well…there had been one entry in the planner that had intrigued her. She risked a peek at Rafe’s face, wondering if she should tell him. Wondering how he would react if she did. He watched her intently.

  “Tell me,” he urged, and slanted his mouth softly across hers—a moist, sensual fusing of their lips that caused spirals of heat to lick their way across her skin. She moaned and pressed herself into his hand.

  Finally, she dragged her mouth free, breathing heavily. “Okay,” she said against his lips. “But promise you won’t laugh.”

  He kissed her again, deeply. “I promise. Now tell me.”

  “Come here.” She drew his head down and whispered in his ear. As he drew back, his expression was one of raw, male need.

  “That’s your fantasy?”

  “Well, one of them anyway.” Sara knew her face was flaming. She couldn’t believe she’d had the courage to tell him. But from the heated expression in his eyes, she knew she hadn’t made a mistake.

  “Oh, man,” he groaned, “you are killing me, lady.”

  Sara lay back in his arms, enjoying how he made her feel. Sexy. Powerful. The promise in his eyes made her breath catch.

  “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” she assured him with a slow smile, knowing there was no way he’d refuse her. Not if his body’s reaction was any indication. She could feel him beneath her, hard and ready.

  “Trust me,” he said with a lazy smile. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing with you. And if it kills me, at least I’ll die happy.”

  10

  RAFE GLANCED OVER AT SARA, who sat beside him in the passenger seat of his car. They’d spent several unforgettable hours exploring their fantasies, first in his living room and then upstairs in his bed. If he didn’t have other obligations, Rafe thought he could have happily spent the entire day in bed with Sara.

  He smiled as he recalled her secret fantasy of being dominated, of being forced to submit to him as he ravished her. As female fantasies went, he knew hers wasn’t all that uncommon, and he’d been prepared to back off immediately if she gave him any indication she was tr
uly afraid.

  But when he’d pushed her up against a wall and pinned her arms over her head, she hadn’t been frightened. She’d been excited, and that had aroused him. And when he’d shoved his hand into her jeans to stroke her, she’d been more than ready. He’d been forceful, but he’d been careful with her. And he was grateful as hell that she’d trusted him to help her fulfill that particular fantasy. He cringed to think what a different kind of man might have done, given that sort of control. Just the thought of another guy doing any of those things with Sara caused a tight knot to form in his chest.

  Looking at her now, Rafe had a difficult time believing she was the same woman who had blown his mind just a few short hours ago. Gone was the flushed, uninhibited lover. In her place was a quiet, conservative woman who concentrated on responding to the messages on her phone and studiously avoided meeting his eyes. She’d tamed her hair into a neat ponytail and had applied some makeup and jewelry. In her button-down blouse and slacks, paired with a thigh-length trench coat, she at least presented an image of a Washington professional.

  On one level, he understood that she might be self-conscious about what they’d done together earlier, but on the other hand he would have thought the experience would make her feel closer to him.

  “Hey.” Reaching over, he scooped a loose tendril of her hair behind her ear. “You okay?”

  She flicked a glance in his direction and nodded, but he saw how the tips of her ears turned red. The knowledge that she was embarrassed by what they had done was both endearing and infuriating.

  “Today was amazing,” he said quietly. “You were amazing.”

  She cast him a grateful smile and set her phone down on her lap. “Thanks. I, um, can’t believe some of the things I let you do.” She gave a self-conscious laugh and covered her face briefly with her hands before turning to him with a look of appeal. “Please tell me you weren’t horrified.”

  In answer, Rafe pulled the car to an abrupt stop on the side of the road, uncaring of the other motorists who blared their horns at him as they passed. Thrusting the vehicle into Park, he unfastened his seat belt and leaned over to grasp her by the shoulders.