Dangerous To Love

by Chevon Gael

"Tonight. In my computer room. Nine o'clock sharp. I have a surprise for Tara, but I don't want to get her hopes up just in case technology fails me."

  "Okay, but this better not take too long. I had a long talk with my sergeant yesterday morning while Tara was sleeping. He did a little digging on her behalf. Turns out the charges against her are completely bogus—"

  "Of course."

  Brett ignored the interruption, especially Carter's I-told-you-so attitude. “And the boys are real interested in a warehouse near the border. Seems they've suspected DeMarco for quite some time, but haven't been able to infiltrate the gang or get anything on wire taps at this end. If Tara could see her way to take a look at a few snapshots of people coming and going from that warehouse, it would go a long way to aid her case."

  "In other words, you can get any pending charges against her dropped."

  "Now, Carter. You know I'm not allowed to say things like that."

  "That's why I did. You forget, fed. I know how the game works."

  "Yeah, well, let's hope everyone involved has read the rule book."

  "Carter!"

  Both men looked up to find themselves the target of three curious female looks. Rachel was a statue of impatience. Tara was trying hard to keep from laughing about something as she looked directly at Carter. Kerry stood between her mother and her aunt, holding the hand of each and lifting her little legs off the floor in an effort to swing between them.

  "Oh, shoot! The milkshake. Sorry, honey. I forgot."

  "Never mind. Tara's going downtown to see the store. We'll take Kerry home for her nap. After the milkshake."

  "Sweety, don't pull on Aunt Rachel like that.” Tara leaned down and whispered into the child's ear. “Especially now."

  Rachel pushed in beside Carter and took Kerry onto her lap.

  "Off with you two. I want to talk to Carter. Alone."

  * * * *

  "What gives?” asked Brett after they left the restaurant. They started to walk back to where he'd left the car parked at the courthouse lot. But Tara had other ideas.

  "It's a gorgeous day. Let's walk to the shop. It's only a few blocks,” she coaxed, donning a pair of sunglasses and shedding her suit jacket. She folded it over her arm and took Brett's hand. “C'mon,” she urged. And Brett had no choice but to follow.

  Although her sunglasses blocked out her eyes, she smiled a sly cat-that-ate-the-canary smile that told Brett something was definitely up. She looked ready to burst. “Rachel is going to have a baby,” she finally told him. “Carter doesn't know yet. She only found out on Saturday when she went to see the specialist in Brandon. She's nearly four months along. And all this time she thought she was putting on weight from eating Kerry's leftovers. Poor thing! She's eating for two."

  Brett digested the information as they walked along. Carter was a lucky man. He loved kids and was good with Kerry. He steered Tara through the crowded sidewalk until they stopped at a busy corner.

  "How old is she?” he asked. “I mean isn't she a little past the baby stage?” He defended himself in the wake of Tara's glare.

  "You amaze me sometimes, Brett Sinclair. You may be a smart cop. But when it comes to women, you don't have a clue."

  "They're not exactly standard issue. You didn't come unassembled with instructions like my Sam Browne or my Smith and Wesson. The light's green.” He placed his hand gently on the small of her back and urged her forward through the busy intersection.

  "Hey, it's not my fault we don't come with a manual. Most of us are lucky a man can spell clitoris, let alone find it and know what to do with it."

  "Tara!” Brett suddenly became aware of several heads turning in their direction.

  She turned, her face animated behind the dark glasses. “You're blushing!” She pointed at him.

  Brett placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. “Keep walking and keep your voice down,” he ordered close to her ear.

  Tara fairly bounced ahead of him and sang, “You can't spell it. You can't spell it."

  "Tara!"

  "And I'll bet you don't know where it is, either. Or what to do with it.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

  "If you're not careful, Tara Morgan, I'll prove to you that I know exactly where it is and what to do with it,” he cautioned.

  "That sounds like a promise."

  "You're a tease, you know that?"

  She was. She did. She marched along ahead of him. Occasionally she stopped in front of him, swung her head around and performed a blatantly sexual act with her neatly manicured thumb being the object of imitation. Between the way she wiggled her little pink tongue between her teeth and the way she lapped and nibbled at her thumb, Brett found himself in danger of having to walk bent over all the way to the renovated storefront. Finally he put a stop to her performance by giving her behind a playful swat.

  He wrapped his arms around her and growled into her ear. “Stop it!” he ordered. “Now!” Then nibbled her earlobe and kissed her neck. Her sharp intake of breath and the way she shivered seductively in his arms was nearly his undoing. For the good of them both, he let her go when they reached the doorway. The new sign in swirling lavender script announced it as the entrance to “Mentionables."

  They stopped while Tara struggled with the master key Rachel had given her. “As opposed to unmentionables?” he asked and attempted to peer between the cracks of the newspaper-covered windows. The door opened and he followed her inside. She motioned for him to remove his shoes as she did to prevent the new carpeting from becoming stained. He was pleasantly surprised to find the shop professionally finished and nearly ready.

  Tara whirled around, her arms wide presenting her surroundings. “What do you think?"

  Brett took in the pastel colored walls, the antique finishes, brass clothing racks and glass display cases. The scent of fruits permeated the air. Several oak dressers were strategically placed around the store, their drawers open but empty, patiently waiting to display Tara's treasures. It was soft, sexy and sophisticated. Like the woman standing in front of him.

  He looked for something complimentary to say. “Everything I want to say starts with the letter ‘F',” he confessed.

  "Huh?” Disappointment and confusion etched her face.

  "No, I didn't mean it that way. I mean when I look at this, I think of words like frilly, feminine, fussy. Flirtatious. What can I say? I'd never shop here."

  Tara advanced on him. “Never?” Her voice was low, challenging.

  Brett searched for a safe answer. “Well ... I might come in if my girlfriend was shopping. Or if I wanted to buy a gift."

  Tara removed her sunglasses and sat down on a satin-covered boudoir chair. “I see. A gift. For someone like...” she prompted him to finish.

  Brett coughed. “My mother."

  Tara pulled a tortoise shell pin from the back of her hair and shook her head. Her copper tresses cascaded over her shoulders. She stretched like a lazy feline. “That feels much better. Now, a gift for mom. Let's see what I've got.” She reached around and dragged a half-open box forward. She dug down and retrieved a lace teddy in fire engine red. She held it up in front of her. “How about this?"

  Deciding that playing along was the way to get to where they both wanted to go, Brett scrutinized her choice. “Nah. Not her color.” In truth, he couldn't see anyone but Tara wearing that ... thing. Tara with her wild red hair to complement the color, not to mention all the wonderful revealing places the teddy would show off.

  Tara shrugged and tossed the garment back into the box. “Let's see what else I've got,” she mused and left her chair for the back of the store. Brett heard the clink of metal rings as she slid a curtain closed.

  "Oh, Brett, you know where this is going," a voice inside his head cautioned. He followed the sound of the swishing curtain. The back of the store held several dressing rooms in various sizes. All contained bedroom furniture, minus the beds. Fancy dressing tables, fussy chairs with frilly covers and some kind of m
iniature sofa that prompted him to ask, “What happened to the rest of this sofa? There's only one arm."

  Her laughter drifted out from behind the curtain. Brett turned to find a puddle of clothing on the floor behind the closed curtain. He realized it was Tara's suit.

  "It's a fainting couch. No proper Victorian woman would be caught dead without one."

  "Okay,” he agreed. “But wouldn't it be handy if you knew where and when you were going to faint?"

  He could hear Tara muttering to herself. She was obviously struggling with something. He fought the urge to ask if she needed any help. He was half afraid she'd say yes.

  "Women fainted all the time. Usually after a meal. Their corsets were so tight they couldn't breathe and eat at the same time, so fainting couches were usually right outside the dining room. There,” she announced.

  "Corsets? Oh, you mean those things called merry widows. You're not really going to sell those, are you?"

  He saw her hands appear under the bottom of the curtain and scoop up her discarded clothes.

  "Sure. They're very popular. As gifts. You know, for mothers, grandmothers, maiden aunts. I'm even considering putting up a display of antique sex toys."

  A shock of prudish outrage defied her. “You mean where people can see them?"

  Her laughter told him she wasn't serious. Was she?

  "Why not? They had them back then, you know. Ivory and whalebone phalluses for the fine upper class ladies. Coarse, prehistoric rubber for the average gal. But still satisfactory, from what I understand. Ben Wa from the far east. The Kama Sutra manuscripts, gold and silver manacles for restraints, you name it. They even had vibrators at the turn of the century. Contrary to popular belief, the Victorians were anything but prudes. And they proved it when they came up with things like this."

  There was a sudden ring of metal on metal, a swish of material and then Tara on display before him. Brett wasn't aware he'd been holding his breath until that moment when it all came out in one quick whoosh. Tara stood before him, girded in a pink and white stripped satin corset. Her ample breasts spilled over the top of the eyelet lining. The striped boning hugged her luscious body, making her waist disappear and giving her the perfect V shape. The satin material flared out over her hips. Lacy garter straps peeped out from under the starched, frilly bottom. Attached to the garters, sheer silk stockings caressed her long legs.

  He knew she was waiting for him to say something ... do something. He could only stare in wonder at her, unable to believe that at that moment she was utterly and entirely his for the taking.

  He walked toward her slowly. He raised his hand, then paused, trying to decide if the gesture was mute resistance or if he was daring himself to touch her, to find out if she was real. She didn't help matters by advancing on him at the same time until they stood inches from each other. He could feel the heat from her body. His senses responded to her arousal. There was a throbbing deep in his belly. He grew hard almost instantly.

  Her hands found the front of his shirt. Trembling fingers worked on the frail protection of cotton fibers and plastic buttons. Then at last she touched him, her hands splaying the breadth of his chest, her fingers toying with the crisp curls. A welcome fire burned deep within him.

  It was almost too much. He was bending fast. How much more until he broke? The answer came when she snuggled against him, her pelvis deliberately nudging the bulge in his pants. At the same time, she lifted a stocking-clad foot and began to run it up the inside of his leg.

  She tilted her head up to meet his lips. “And who is this gift for?” Her voice was a silky whisper, an unavoidable temptation. That did it!

  "Me,” he growled.

  CHAPTER 10

  He lowered his mouth and captured Tara's waiting lips. The kiss he settled on her mouth was tender at first, hesitantly searching, then openly demanding permission. She gave a muffled groan as his hands wandered leisurely over her body. The heat of his skin radiated through her thin costume. The way he felt, the way he smelled, it was as if his entire body was charged with sexual energy, an energy she was soaking up. But then, he'd flipped her switch from the first time she saw him butt-naked in his bed. It was an image of him she carried to bed each night, a scenario she'd seen through to delightful conclusion only in her fantasies. Now it was time for her fantasy to come true.

  She knew she didn't have to go through the motions of dressing up to get his attention. She could just as easily have dropped her clothes in front of him. But she'd seen him looking at her photos, noticed the undisguised interest, and remembered the way he looked at her the first time in the motel room. This was her gift to him as much as he was a gift to her. A gift to her body, to her senses, to her soul. At this moment, she would give him her all, just as she knew he would give his all to her.

  His lips left her mouth and wandered along the line of her neck, across her shoulders and down to the exposed portion of her breasts.

  "I'm not stopping this time, Tara."

  "I don't want you to. Why do you think I struggled into this thing?” She picked at the laces of her corset.

  "You didn't have to try so hard. I appreciate the whole seduction thing, but I think you know it isn't necessary when it comes to you and me. If I'd been any other man out on the highway that first night, I'd have jumped your bones in the back seat of your car."

  "What about the back seat of yours?"

  He planted a hot kiss over each of her breasts. “That's government property,” he murmured.

  "So are you."

  "I'm easier to replace than the cruiser. And a lot less paperwork. Let's forget about the car. I want to nuzzle these magnificent breasts of yours.” And to prove it, he fondled each one with intimate strokes. The sensations shot through Tara like a charge of electricity, sending sparks to every corner of her body. Like a long-dormant volcano, her body's sexual responses erupted to life with a sudden ferocity.

  "Brett, I hope you know you're not leaving here without making love to me."

  "I know,” he murmured and planted an intimate kiss between her breasts. Then he looked up at her, a serious expression suddenly crossing his face. “I hope this is what you want, Tara. Because it's what I want."

  "You're the first man since ... the only man. The man I want,” she confessed. “You've crossed my borders now. There's no going back."

  "You crossed mine,” he reminded her as he pressed her body against him. “And attacked me with no provocation."

  "Not true,” she whispered and reached up to trace the outline of his mouth with her fingertip. “You were hiding something very devastating, at least to the female population."

  "Oh?” He raised his eyebrows and lightly bit down on her finger.

  "Uh-huh. You're a one-man weapon of mass seduction."

  They both chuckled and Brett grasped her around her waist and lifted her off the floor. He carried her into the large open dressing room where she'd changed her clothes. Another tapestry covered fainting couch was pushed against the wall. He sat down and settled her across his lap.

  "Naughty me,” he whispered.

  "Oh, I hope so.” And confirmed her intentions by pressing one of her hands between his legs. He was undeniably hard. She could feel it when he pressed against her. A man with a huge pistol, primed and ready for firing.

  "Mind if I un-holster that weapon, Constable?"

  "Be my guest—please!"

  Tara's fingers worked to unhook his belt. She touched the zipper. She was aware of her heart pounding in her breast. The sudden rush of blood pulsing in her ears. Louder than the low, slow scrape of metal parting metal as she freed him. The heat of him penetrated through his briefs. His hard tip planted a tiny wet kiss on the palm of her hand. So much man.

  Tara accepted his help as his arms encircled her and his fingers deftly unlaced her corset.

  "You could unhook this from the front, if it's easier,” she offered.

  He looked at her with a hungry glint in his eye. “Tara, my love, no
thing about you is easy."

  A moment later, the corset fell to the floor and she sat on his lap, naked from the waist up. His eyes roamed over her in worshipful approval.

  "Get up for a second,” he said.

  She did and, before she could ask why the sudden intermission, he was dragging his suit shirt over his head and kicking off his shoes. Tara followed him by taking off her high heels. She placed her hands at the top of her garter belt. He stopped her.

  "Uh-uh. I like unwrapping my own presents."

  Tara removed her hands from the garter belt and stood waiting for him to finish undressing. He shucked off his pants and socks and sat back down on the couch wearing only his briefs. He crooked his finger and she moved toward him. The closer the better in her opinion. His erection straining against the white material created a tent effect that drew Tara's attention away from Brett's efforts to undo her stockings from her garter belt. She didn't even care when he accidentally stuck his thumb through her delicate hose and caused a huge run from the top of her thigh to her toe.

  Brett swore softly. “Sorry. I'm a bit clumsy when it comes to this kind of stuff."

  Tara helped by taking her stockings off and leaving the rest for him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her bare midriff. He began to nibble the skin around her navel. His hot breath burned across her abdomen. His wet tongue swirled and lapped, lower and lower until his kisses met the lace barrier covering, but not hiding, the auburn tinted puff of curls between her thighs. Tara thought she would go through the roof when he buried his nose in the little patch of pink and white material.

  "You're wet,” he murmured, his tone appreciative.

  He slipped his thumbs under the elastic holding the thong in place and slid them down her thighs. Now, she stood naked before him.

  "God, how I dreamed of you like this!” he breathed. “Sit down."

  She did. And soon found herself stretched out on the couch with Brett's body covering her. He was warm and rough, smooth and hot. The hairs on his chest tickled her nipples to hard little tips. He nuzzled and fondled, nibbled and licked. He devoured her like a starving man let loose at a feast. Somehow he managed to lose his briefs and they were finally skin to skin. Tara felt his knee wedge between her thighs. The hot, wet tip of his erect penis nudged her outer lips apart.