Lip Service

by Lori Foster

  “Facts? Like what?”

  She inhaled deeply, her eyes afire, and crawled closer to him. Apparently, this woman could ooze sex even while she discussed the object of his investigation.

  “She said you were a real gentlemen, a great dancer and a master in the bedroom. Seems to me she was three for three. What are the chances a stranger could know so much about you, unless she checked you out ahead of time?”

  Unable to resist, Seth allowed Lacey to capture his lips in a long, luxurious kiss. What man wouldn’t savor her ego-boosting assessment, not to mention the incredibly irresistible way Lacey brushed her breasts against his arm, teasing him with the tight tips of her nipples.

  He pulled away when the logic of her assessment struck him. Did Gina know him? Was she asking around about him, maybe checking into his past? And if she was, had he blown this case?

  His hesitation and concern lasted all of five seconds, dashed to action the minute Lacey ran her tongue along the edge of his biceps, her attention no longer focused on anything but his body. Somewhere in the back of the functioning section of his brain, Seth knew he should process the information she’d given him, do some checking, make some inquiries.

  Tomorrow, he decided, rolling with Lacey into the soft pillows. He could do all this tomorrow.

  7

  THE MUFFLED SOUND OF A VOICE—a male voice, deep and throaty, somewhere nearby—lured Lacey from her dreamless sleep. She grinned and snuggled deeper into the covers, knowing the voice was Seth’s, guessing he was in the bathroom using his cell phone. She stretched, luxuriously sated from making love to the sexy private investigator all night long. She’d expected him to beg off sometime during the night, to follow the lead about Gina that she’d inadvertently given him. But if he’d been the least tempted to follow up, he never made a move, concentrating only on her and their wild night of glorious sex.

  Apparently, he’d valued their tryst more highly than his current assignment. That he’d rolled out of bed early to work didn’t bother her in the least. He had his priorities in line.

  She wondered if she could say the same about herself.

  Last night had been a rule-breaking foray into untamed, nearly anonymous sex and Lacey had loved every minute of it. She didn’t know Seth Kingston, but what she’d learned so far, she liked. A lot. Maybe too much for a woman in her position. A woman with only two days to enjoy this amazing man. He didn’t hide his well-bred manners, but he didn’t hide behind them, either. He’d used them to seduce her, though she suspected he didn’t know that he had.

  They’d danced, drank and sampled sumptuous finger foods until they couldn’t keep their hands off each other for another minute. And then, he’d brought her flowers. She smoothed her hand under the covers and retrieved a handful of the rose petals he’d crushed over their bed sometime during the night. The sweet scent assailed her with a rush of erotic recollections that had her flesh throbbing for Seth’s touch all over again.

  Seth Kingston had embraced the spontaneity of their one-night stand. He’d plied her with memorable moments that would last for a very long time. For the first time in forever, Lacey’s inherent good fortune had extended into her personal life. She couldn’t imagine folding her cards just yet.

  For an instant, Lacey allowed herself a forbidden thought—a fleeting consideration of how her life could have turned out if she hadn’t been so wary of a relationship. On the one hand, her heart had never been broken. She had a long list of former lovers she could call on as friends and memories to entertain her when the job got too dark, too serious.

  Only the memories weren’t so potent anymore, were they? If they had been, she wouldn’t have come to Atlanta this weekend to make some new ones, hot scorching recollections that would warm her when her cold job threatened her with emotional frostbite.

  But what choice did she have? She’d committed herself to her career. She’d come so far, so fast. For the first time, Lacey Baptiste had earned the type of respect she’d never known before. And not only from her colleagues, but from herself.

  Tomorrow night, she had to return to Virginia. She had no choice but leave Seth and her party-girl instincts behind. But for now, she planned to keep playing this hand for all it was worth.

  She rolled over and, though she didn’t want to, opened her eyes. The thin sliver of sunlight slicing through a gap in the curtains stabbed her pupils. She managed to snag the clock radio from the bedside table and caught a glimpse of the time. Eleven-thirty? Holy smokes! She was supposed to meet her sister in a half an hour.

  She was halfway out of bed when Seth came out of the bathroom, his cell phone in his palm.

  “Good morning, sunshine.”

  His grin melted away the aftereffects of too much champagne. Though she suddenly felt like a million bucks, she knew she most likely looked like a buck ninety-five. Yet instead of dashing into the bathroom for a quick fix, she curled back into the bed. “You’re a morning person, aren’t you?”

  “Guilty,” he said, sitting on the corner of the mattress, careful not to jostle her too much.

  “Well, there’s one thing we don’t have in common.”

  “Fine by me. I liked watching you sleep.”

  The gentleness in his voice unnerved her, as if his comment contained more than the acceptable amount of wistful romanticism allowed for their…what? Relationship? Hardly. Still, she responded with a wisecrack, guaranteed to establish distance. “I don’t drool or snore, do I?”

  He chuckled and grinned, clearly not as put off as she anticipated. “Not that I noticed. Don’t you know?”

  She shook her head, wincing as the consequences of too much sex and alcohol ping-ponged behind her eyes. “How would I know? I live alone.”

  “Always?”

  “Except for the occasional roommate—and not the kind that shares the bed, if you know what I mean.”

  A light knock sounded, along with the announcement of the arrival of room service. She was left alone to consider if she’d volunteered too much information about her personal life while Seth strode toward the door.

  “I took the liberty of ordering you something,” he explained, fetching the tray and paying the waiter without allowing the hotel employee entrance to the room.

  Lacey relaxed into the pillows. She didn’t know where Gina Ralston had gotten her complimentary information about Seth Kingston, but she’d been dead-on. The poor guy probably didn’t even know what a catch he was. But before she could figure out a way to smuggle him back with her to Virginia and pass him off as her hunky older brother, he poured her a cup of hot, black coffee and brought it to her, sweetened just the way she liked it—with just his smile.

  “You never shared a room with a sibling?” he asked.

  Lacey concentrated on sipping the strong coffee, too hung over to laugh at the notion. “My sister and I shared a room until it got crowded.”

  “More kids?”

  “Not exactly. My sister is like a paranormal phenomenon magnet.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “She talks to ghosts.”

  “Is that all?” he asked, acting unaffected when she knew he probably now thought she was as crazy as Eve. Or at least, as crazy as most of Eve’s friends thought she was, though everyone who knew her loved Eve to pieces anyway. Lacey, on the other hand, thought her sister was one of the sanest women on the planet. Sane, but creepy. Through no fault of her own, of course.

  “You don’t want to know,” she concluded.

  “You’re right. I don’t want to know about your sister. But I do want to know about you. Ready to give up on our game? You know I’m a cop—former cop,” he corrected. “What about you? Where’d you learn to pat a man down like that?”

  She took another long sip. “I watch a lot of television. Joe Friday was my idol,” she joked.

  “More like Pepper Anderson, maybe,” he quipped, referring to the infamous, sensuous character that Angie Dickinson played on the 1970s hit television show, Police Woma
n. “’Fess up, Lacey Baptiste. I’m sure I could find out what agency you report to if I make a few phone calls and call in a few favors.”

  Lacey nodded. He was right. She wasn’t an undercover agent and now that she knew what he did for a living, she doubted he’d be put off by her career like what’s-his-name from last night.

  “Special Agent Lacey Baptiste, Federal Bureau of Investigation” she said, holding out her right hand while her left cradled her coffee. “Assigned to Quantico, National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime.”

  “Tough job,” he said, his eyes darkening.

  She realized he’d probably seen just as many violent, blood-spattered rooms and dismembered bodies as she had. Scary as it sounded, sharing such knowledge, even separately, gave them even more common ground. The kind of common ground one-night stands weren’t supposed to have.

  A chill raced down Lacey’s spine, then morphed into a tendril of heat that curled around the erogenous zones Seth had so expertly manipulated last night. She downed her coffee in a few gulps, hoping to ward away the emotional response. She didn’t want to feel anything emotional about Seth—though a little admiration didn’t hurt. But anything more might make it very tough to leave him when the time came. And leave him she would.

  She hadn’t come home to Atlanta to find a lover or a husband or even a friend. She’d come home to let loose, have fun and return to Virginia with memories to tide her over until her next secret foray into wild living. On the verge of a promotion, Lacey wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the persona she’d created for her colleagues—efficient, professional, driven.

  She had less than two days left of this vacation and she didn’t want to go out trolling for dates. She wanted to spend the weekend with Seth, no strings attached.

  If he was interested, of course.

  “Let’s not talk about my job,” she insisted, allowing the sheet she’d pulled around her to drop a little. “Let’s talk about whether or not you’re going to come back here after you chase down whatever lead you got from that phone call.”

  He grinned, fully aware of her seductive move. “Sorry for the business call, but I couldn’t shake what you said last night.”

  She handed him her empty cup. “Didn’t want you to shake it. If this Gina Ralston is someone dangerous, I don’t want you caught with your pants down, figuratively speaking.” She scooted closer to him on the mattress. “Literally, however, you can drop those drawers anytime I’m around.”

  “You’re insatiable,” he concluded.

  She kissed him on the chin. “If you only knew.”

  “Gina’s not dangerous, but she knows dangerous people.”

  “Same difference. Want backup?”

  He shook his head, then bent down and trailed a sensuous line of kisses across her shoulder. “Thanks, but no. I’ve got it. I’m just going to nose around. Do you want to meet up later?”

  “Only if you promise to show me a good time.”

  “Babe, those are the only times I know. What are you going to do?”

  “Call my sister and tell her I’ll be late for lunch. Then shower, get dressed, and sometime before we rendezvous, buy some lingerie so sinfully sexy, you may well pass out the minute you see it on my body.”

  His left eyebrow quirked up, not in surprise, but definite interest. “It might not be on your body for long,” he warned.

  “That’s the idea.”

  WITH THE PROMISE OF Lacey’s shopping spree echoing in his ears, Seth didn’t know how he was supposed to concentrate on his case. After driving through the Krispy Kreme and downing three glazed doughnuts chased with black coffee, he figured he’d better find a way. For the hundredth time since leaving Lacey at her hotel, he glanced at his watch and then calculated the amount of time until his scheduled tryst with Lacey.

  He groaned. Seven-and-a-half hours. Just what manner of lingerie would she choose for tonight? A long, silky gown, the kind the screen sirens of the forties chose to drive men like Bogart and Grant wild with wanting? A sleek teddy? Maybe garters? Dare he dream…crotchless panties? The possibilities paraded through Seth’s brain like a Victoria’s Secret fashion show so that when he pulled up at the curb in front of Gina Ralston’s house, he didn’t remember how he got there.

  With effort, he pushed the erotic images aside. Business now, pleasure later.

  Gina’s bungalow, in the center of the popular Virginia-Highland neighborhood, was small but pricey. The single-story, two-bedroom home with the manicured postage-stamp lawn and charming white picket fence was out of the price range of a telemarketer. But Seth had already dug deep into her real estate records. She’d bought the place with cash and paid in full. Just another red flag that she wasn’t who she said she was, and no more a solid clue than her penchant for blind dates.

  As usual for a Saturday afternoon, she was tending the collection of thick azaleas rimming her porch. Wearing her gloves as she almost always did—the gardening variety this time—and a large-brimmed hat and sunglasses, she looked no different than she had on any of the other Saturday stakeouts Seth had logged.

  Only this time, Seth parked and got out. No binoculars, no camera with a telephoto lens. Just Gina and him, face-to-face. She’d left before he’d had the chance to work his charm on her last night. Didn’t mean he couldn’t give it another college try.

  He knocked on the knee-high latch of the fence, catching her attention.

  “Well, if it isn’t Sam Duke, my errant blind date.”

  She dusted her hands off, but made no move closer to him.

  “I think you’re a little confused. I didn’t bail last night, you did.”

  She sniffed, made a cursory glance at the shadows suddenly clouding the blue Atlanta sky. “I don’t like to date men who don’t give me their real names, Sam. Or should I say Seth? Seth Kingston?”

  He bit back a curse and a snide comment about not being convinced Gina Ralston was her real name, either. He didn’t come here to alienate her.

  “I was just protecting myself,” he explained.

  “You didn’t do a very good job. I found out your little secret after five minutes in the club.”

  “How?”

  “The bartender’s name is Ken Petrowski. He told me to tell you hello. He’s one of your biggest admirers.”

  Seth cursed. Ken used to pour brews at Rita’s Ribs, a hangout for most of the detectives on his squad. They’d known each other for years. Seth had even dated the guy’s sister for a short time before she decided to reconcile with her ex-husband. Ken was beyond nice, but he wasn’t too bright. Likely never occurred to him not to ID a former cop so easily. And not only ID, but share personal information—like the fact that he enjoyed dancing. He doubted Ken volunteered the information about Seth’s prowess in bed. Gina’d just jumped to her own conclusion on that one.

  “Look, it’s just a misunderstanding,” he said. “I’m not a cop anymore.”

  “That’s what Ken said.”

  “You didn’t believe him?”

  “Would you if you were me?”

  Seth pressed his lips together, knowing he’d talked himself into a hard choice. Did he reveal that he knew about Gina’s connection to the federal prosecution of Eric Miller, a suspected crime boss, or did he play innocent? His decision could make the difference between ultimate success and instant failure.

  “Why does it matter?” he asked. “You got something to hide that you take off when you find out your blind date is a retired cop? Or is it that you didn’t like what you saw?”

  Gina yanked off her hat and shook out her hair, so the bottle-bred highlights caught the rays of the afternoon sun through the increasingly dark clouds. Crafty, this one. Wily, too. Certainly not stupid.

  “Didn’t you like the babe I sent in my place?”

  Man, she was good. He couldn’t think of a more effective distraction than mentioning Lacey.

  “Not the point,” he answered shortly.

  “I know what you want, King
ston. And I’m not going to give it to you. So sorry if I’m breaking your heart.”

  “Unlikely,” he said, dropping all semblance of interest. She knew what he wanted. Okay. The rules of the game had changed, but that didn’t mean he intended to lose.

  She backed away. “I have gardening to do before the storm. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  Yeah, you can tell me who you really are. You can tell me why you’re testifying on behalf of a crime boss you seemingly have no connection to. Oh, and by the way, how’d you know I’d fall for a sassy brunette with little but sex on her mind?

  “No, I’m fine,” he answered. “Have a great day.”

  “I will,” she said, popping the hat back on her head at a jaunty, confident angle. “You do the same.”

  Seth turned back to the car. Two smart-mouthed, strong women in one weekend? This one might be a burr under his saddle, but he knew Lacey could soothe the chafe by allowing him one peek at her lingerie. For today, his attention on Gina was done. She was too aware and wary. Tomorrow he’d figure out his next move.

  For now, he wanted to concentrate on Lacey. He got the distinct impression that she planned to go back to Virginia tomorrow night without another thought about him, to chalk up their affair as an exciting two-night roll in the hay. Why this bothered Seth, he didn’t know…but he knew that with just a little planning, he could make sure that they shared a night that she’d never forget.

  8

  EVEN IF A HURRICANE had been on the verge of blowing through Atlanta, Lacey wouldn’t have cancelled her date with Seth. As it was, the evening was darkened by a typical southern thunderstorm—the type that explodes with lightning and thunder, rages for hours, dumps inches of rain, then lingers with mists and drizzles until dampness becomes the permanent state of existence. Still, Lacey couldn’t blame the weather for the moisture coating her body, especially in the dry confines of her sister’s car. The culpability belonged to Seth Kingston and his intriguing promise to treat her to a night she’d never forget.

  Because of him, she’d purchased sinfully sexy underthings to wear beneath her dress, a breezy, romantic wraparound with a rose print on sheer, feminine fabric. One tug of the sash knotted on her waist and Seth would discover the depths of her decadence, of her desire. And she couldn’t wait. From the minute he’d called her and given her the location of their liaison, her mind had spawned a dozen fantasies, each more delicious than the first.