by Lori Foster
Because her legs were still shaky and weak, she dropped back to the wall. “You’re being impossible.”
Nothing.
She watched him turn the chicken and return it to the oven, then put on vegetables to steam. “Chicken is one of my favorites.”
“I know.”
Vaguely she remembered him questioning her during his routine check of her concussion. And now, knowing her preferences, he’d been considerate enough to cook for her.
She felt like the bitch others often called her. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”
He turned to her. “Dinner will be ready in ten.” His gaze went over her. “You going to eat in that?”
Would it bother him? Unlike her, he hadn’t yet gotten his jollies. “Why not?” He might be pissed, but still her body kept drawing his notice. She liked that enough that she even let the quilt droop lower on one side until a nipple almost showed. “With this stupid splint it’s difficult to get a shirt on.”
When Dash pushed away from the stove, his own expression unreadable, a new thrill danced up her spine. Even now, with him obviously disappointed in her early perceptions of him, she knew he was determined to make her hot.
As he approached, she resisted the urge to back up. “What are you doing?”
He stopped in front of her and his big hands took hold of the quilt near her breasts. “If you want to turn me on, it’s working.” The way he curled his fingers over the material meant his knuckles brushed her skin. “But you know what would work better?”
She shook her head.
With a small smile, he slowly pulled away the quilt, leaving her naked. “God, you have a kickin’ body.”
The way he looked at her made her feel sexier than she’d ever imagined.
His hands went over her, stroking her breasts again, caressing down her belly. One hand moved over her ass and then up between her legs. He bent and kissed her, a slow, thorough kiss with plenty of tongue that made her legs weak all over again.
He kissed her until she clung to him, her breath rushing, her skin hot.
Gently he pulled away. “Let’s see how we’re progressing here.” He stared into her eyes while the fingers between her legs examined her, then his eyes darkened with satisfaction. “Nice. It seems we’re both in the same shape again.”
“What...”
“I’m still rock-hard. It only seems right for you to be bothered a little, too, right?” Pulling off his shirt, he dropped it over her head, easily working her splinted arm through first, then her other arm.
It smelled of him, hot and delicious, and cocooned her in his scent.
So unfair. Now she was covered, but she had the view of his solid shoulders and wide chest.
He pulled out her chair as if he expected her to sit. “I hope you’re hungry, honey. I made plenty.”
Margo didn’t know what to do. He just stood there, waiting oh-so-patiently, his gaze unwavering, so damn hot that she wanted to jump him.
He was right. Carnal need again racked her body.
“Trust me,” Dash whispered as he held out a hand to her, and the gesture was so sweet, a way to help her give in, that she blew out a breath and did as he asked.
Gratified, he bent and kissed her forehead—then went back to cooking as if the standoff hadn’t happened at all. And damn it, that turned her on, too.
It seemed Dashiel Riske had her completely figured out. The man had the most diabolical way of turning her inside out, making her nearly frantic to have him. Margo didn’t know if that was a good thing, or very, very dangerous...for her heart.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DASH FELT HER WATCHING him as he put two aspirin next to her plate and filled her glass with iced tea. “You can ask me anything, you know that, right?”
Confusion kept her brows pinched down. She tossed back the aspirin. “The chicken smells good.”
“It’s my grandmother’s recipe. Mom is an okay cook, but my grandma could put twenty pounds on anyone.” He smiled as he served first her, then himself. “But we both know that’s not what you want to talk about.” He joined her at the table.
It was the oddest thing, watching Margo screw up her nerve. She was a fearless woman who would put herself in the line of fire to save someone else, but now, with him, over chicken dinner, she seemed so uncertain.
Dash sat back. “Out with it, honey. Then we can both enjoy our meal.”
Predictably enough, her chin lifted and she met his gaze. “Fine.” It took a second as she seemed to search for the words. “You said...you said you loved it when I was...” More searching, and she settled on, “Passive.”
Now what was she thinking? Dash crossed his arms over his chest. “I love seeing how turned on you get. So?”
“So I’m seldom like that. It’s not really me, it’s just—”
“It’s you,” Dash corrected her. No way would he let her deny how good the sex was between them.
That she’d once thought him boring...yeah, that burned his ass big-time. Hopefully he’d already disabused her of that notion. But it bothered him enough that he thought about giving in to her tonight. He worried for her injured arm, but he could take extra care—and utilizing that care would, in itself, be another form of foreplay.
“You know what I mean, Dash.”
“I do.” He knew her far better than she realized. “Occasionally enjoying a submissive role during sex is only a small part of who you are. But it’s honest, and important.” Catching on to her concern, he sat forward, his arms folded on the tabletop. “I love seeing you all warm and aroused, waiting for me to take care of you. But I also love it when you’re cocky like you were today with that idiot in the truck. Much as it scared me, it also impressed me.” He grinned at her. “I even like it when you’re all prickly, giving me a hard time.”
She shook her head, maybe in disbelief, maybe in confusion.
Dash reached for her hand. “And I love how you are right now, uncertain but straightforward with me, determined to draw some boundaries in our relationship.”
“Is it a relationship?”
His gaze narrowed. “Yes.”
She searched his face for the longest time. “And if I’m ever not in the mood to be docile?”
He grinned. “Then bring it on. I guarantee I can handle it.” Because I can handle you, every fascinating part of your personality. But he decided not to voice that confidence just yet.
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“I’m sure we’ll enjoy ourselves all the same.” Because being with her could never be less than mind-blowing.
She gave it a lot of thought and then with a slight smile, she released his hand and picked up her fork. “All right.”
That was a mighty easy capitulation. “I’m not boring?” He wanted to hear her admit it.
“Ha! No, definitely not boring.” She eyed his chest. “You’re so exciting, I’m not sure I can take much more.”
Maybe she shouldn’t have to. He’d see how she felt after dinner—and make up his mind then. It was that “boring” comment that made him want to prove himself, he knew, but what the hell, he was only a man and he had his pride.
It amazed Dash to see her dig into her dinner. “Mmm, this is good.”
Fickle woman.
They were halfway through dinner when Margo got a call from Rowdy. She heard her cell ringing from the bedroom, where she’d left it in her purse, and started to stand.
Dash waved her back to her seat. “I’ll get it for you.”
“It could be the station,” she said, getting up to follow him anyway.
Dash had no intention of breeching her privacy. He just picked up the purse and carried it back to her, meeting her in the hallway. Quickly she dug out the phone and answered on the sixth ring.
Dash silently followed her. Unlike the last time he’d seen her with Rowdy, there was no inflection in her tone other than mild interest.
Jealousy was a bitch. He fucking hated it.
She’d thought he would be boring—but she had wanted Rowdy.
Hiding his feelings on the matter wasn’t easy. Definitely, tonight, he would have her.
When she reached the table he held out her chair and she smiled at him as she seated herself. “When was this?” she asked Rowdy. And then she said, “I’ll have Reese and Logan check it out.” She listened, then scowled. “So I’m finding out last?”
Dash reseated himself across from her.
Her discontent intensified and she stiffened. “Damn it.” She listened, shook her head. “Yes, you do that. And next time call me first.” More listening, and then a sigh. “No, I would have sent... Well, yeah. All right, fine. I understand. Call me if you find out anything else.” She closed the phone, looked ready to toss it and instead set it carefully on the tabletop.
“Trouble?” Dash asked.
She forked up some veggies. “Rowdy got a lead on where the firebugs might’ve been hiding out. He told Logan about it, and he and Reese went to check it out.”
Ah. So Rowdy had bypassed her. “He went to them first because they were already out and about?”
“That’s what he says. I still think he should have told me first. There’s a proper order to the way things should be done.”
Dash saluted. He, himself, had a proper order in mind...for winning her over.
Margo’s eyes narrowed on him. “I guess it doesn’t really matter. By the time the boys got there, the place was toast.”
The boys. Funny that she would refer to two such competent detectives that way. “Toast how?”
“Burned down. It was an abandoned garage and someone torched it.”
Thinking of the threat against her, Dash stiffened. The ones responsible proved more dangerous by the hour. “It was empty? No one else was hurt.”
“Thankfully.” She ate a few more bites. “I’ll call your brother in a minute to find out the rest of the details, and of course we’ll still check for evidence since Rowdy insists his informant was solid, but it’s doubtful we’ll be able to find much. Rowdy is going back to his snitch to see if there’s anything new.”
“Was it burned with kerosene?”
Before she could answer, a knock sounded on her door. Margo groaned. “It’s like Grand Central Station around here.”
Dash left the table again, pausing to pull out her chair. “You might want to get a housecoat or something. I’ll answer the door for you.”
Grousing, she grabbed up one more bite of chicken on her way out.
Oliver awoke with the knock and he darted into the kitchen to hide under the table. Dash sympathized with him, gave him a few quick treats and went to the door.
Logan and Reese stood there. The sky had darkened and it smelled like rain, but so far the skies remained dry. “Hey.”
Giving him a disgruntled frown, Logan pushed his way in. “Where’s Peterson?”
Margo appeared around the corner. “Is something wrong?”
Logan and Reese both froze comically, their gazes going all over her from her tiny bare feet to the tightly cinched belt on her robe, to her tousled hair and makeup-free face.
Logan’s widened gaze came back to Dash and stayed there.
Reese looked at the ceiling, the floor, his own feet.
Fighting a grin, Dash said, “Come on in. We were just having dinner.”
“Fried chicken,” Logan said while sniffing the air. And then to Reese he added, “He makes it just like our grandma does.”
“Damn, that smells good,” Reese told him. “Don’t suppose you have any left?”
“A little. You want to—”
Margo cleared her throat loudly. “Why. Are. You. Here?”
Reluctantly, Logan turned to her again.
Dash almost laughed at the resolute look on his brother’s face as he tried to keep his gaze north of Margo’s breasts beneath the soft terry robe.
“Rowdy said he called you about the fire?”
“Yes.”
Logan rolled a shoulder as if to relieve tension. “Yeah, well, we have some news. Rowdy was going to call you back, but I figured since we were out I might as well give it to you in person.”
“Less chance of plans being intercepted that way,” Reese told her.
Dash realized they were all still worried about controlling things, and the possibility of any residual corruption left at the station.
“Why don’t we sit in the kitchen?” Dash asked. “They can eat while they talk.”
“Fine.” Margo led the way.
Reese glanced at her ass in the robe, then quickly away. He looked guilty as hell about it, too.
Glaring at Dash, Logan fell into line behind Reese.
It was too damn funny how they both continued to see her in such a one-dimensional way, which, in part, probably contributed to the difficulty Margo had in coming to grips with the different facets of her personality—facets he’d brought to the fore. If everyone else saw her only as a severe authoritarian, how hard must it be for her to show her softer, more vulnerable side?
While Dash divided the rest of the food on plates for his brother and Reese, Logan pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “A few hours before the fire started in that building, some neighborhood kids found kerosene dumped everywhere. They called Cannon because they thought it looked suspicious. Cannon says the kids claimed it was tossed on the walls, all over the floors and on some old tires.”
With grave reservations, Reese sat next to Margo. “Cannon, of course, called us. Before we could get there, though—”
“Fire?” Dash filled in.
“The rear door had been pried open—the boys said they found it like that. They cut through that back alley on their way home from shooting baskets down at Cannon’s rec center.”
“Good thing they didn’t stumble into whoever set the fire.” Dash could only imagine what might have happened to the kids if they had.
“That’s what Cannon said,” Logan confirmed. “He plans to talk to them about not going that way anymore.”
“They need to avoid all alleyways, in my opinion,” Reese added. And then to Margo, “I was going to talk to some of the unis about patrolling along that way a little more often, especially around the time the rec center closes up.”
“Good idea.” Margo fidgeted a moment. “How long before the fire marshal has a report?”
Dash noted her quiet, lethal manner now. Despite her lack of proper clothing, she was back to being a lieutenant, chillingly furious, probably over the fire and the possible danger to the kids. Not giving a damn what Logan or Reese thought, he reached over and took her hand.
Brows raised, she looked at his hand, nonplussed, and her gaze crawled up his arm to his face.
He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look away, either.
Relenting, Margo accepted the contact and curled her fingers with his.
It took Logan a second to shake off his discomfort. “Chief Williams said there were a series of small explosions that he assumes were tires blowing from the heat. He hadn’t yet determined exactly how the fire ignited, but he’s leaning toward deliberate vandalism.”
Margo stewed in silence a moment. “No one knows we didn’t find evidence. Whoever started the fire didn’t expect kids to call it in so quickly. They probably assumed the building would burn to the ground. But it’s still standing?”
“It is,” Reese said. “The firemen got it under control right away, but everything is a mess.”<
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“None of the other buildings—also vacant—were affected,” Logan said. “Except for some external smoke damage.”
“So...” Margo looked around the table at each of them. “We could let word out that we found a few leads. Yes?”
“Tell a few lies?” Logan slowly nodded. “Might push the bastards to show themselves.”
Reese grinned. “Want me to put the word out?”
“No.” A sly smile eased away her frown. “Given their connections, I think it’d be better if Cannon and Rowdy put the word out on the street.”
“Hell of an idea.”
“And if that doesn’t work...” Margo drew a deep breath. “I could make myself available.”
“You already did that,” Dash said, starting to feel uneasy.
Logan scowled at her. “She means to set herself up as bait.”
Ice ran through Dash’s veins. “No.”
“It’s not up to you,” she said mildly. “And, no, it wouldn’t be my first choice.”
Dash sat frozen, his gaze drilling into his brother—but Logan wouldn’t meet his eyes. Because he agreed with her? Fuck.
“Let’s try this first.” Logan stood, his cell phone in hand. “I’ll get hold of Rowdy right now.”
Reese also moved from the table. “I’ll talk with Cannon. I was going to stop by tonight to check on the kids who saw the whole thing anyway.”
With satisfaction plain on her face, Margo watched them get started.
His brother would just have to make it work, Dash decided.
Margo looked at the tabletop for several heartbeats before lifting her gaze to his. “I’m a damn good cop.”
“I know.” He really did.
“You can’t interfere.”
That fact made him all the more anxious to bind her to him somehow. He forced himself to nod. “Okay.”
Her smile flickered over her face. “The lie might work. Right now the goons are smug, thinking we’re lost—which we are. But if they start to worry, they’ll make a mistake.”
“And then you’ll have them.”