by Elle Kennedy
Chapter Two
Emma Lee could think of a hundred better ways she could be spending her evening. Not at this party would be on the top of that list. But she supposed if she had to be stuck in a broom closet with someone, she could do a lot worse than sexy Iron Man. Or at least she thought it was Iron Man—she’d only caught a quick glimpse of him in the flash of light from one of the cell phones that had switched on in the main room.
Granted, for all she knew, her costumed crusader’s face veered more toward hideous villain than chiseled hero, but hey, when a man was rocking a body like that? Who cared what was up top. And at least the mask covering his face kept the illusion intact.
“You stole my line.” His voice sounded rough and slightly far away from behind the plastic mask, but there was no mistaking his amusement.
“Did I?” she teased.
“Mmm-hmmm. And the answer is yes. I would love to make out.”
Emma sucked in a breath. She’d only been kidding when she’d voiced the silly question, but judging by the seductive note in his tone, he was dead serious.
“Oh.” She swallowed. “You know I was joking, right?”
That got her a soft chuckle. “Word to the wise—never joke about something like that with a guy like me.”
“Why?”
“Because I take kissing very seriously, darling. If making out was an Olympic sport? I’d be a gold medalist.”
She grinned despite herself. It’d been a long time since she’d met a man who made her laugh. The males she encountered on a daily basis were either industry professionals with inflated egos or models who thought they were hot shit, but that was fashion for you. Even though she stayed behind the scenes, she couldn’t avoid the glitz and glamour of her field—and the often-slimy, über-arrogant men who crossed her path. Including the one she worked with.
The man standing next to her at the moment definitely gave off a cocky vibe, but there was nothing slimy about him, and when he shifted in the darkness so they were face to face—or rather, face to mask—Emma’s pulse sped up. Not in fear, but…oh hell…in anticipation.
Yup, she shouldn’t have let Susanna Jones convince her to come tonight. Emma wasn’t crazy about parties. Or crowds. Or unfamiliar places. Normally, a drink or two would ease her nerves and allow her to come out of her shell, but she hadn’t had time to hit the bar yet—Suz’s friends had dragged her upstairs to get their scare on the moment they’d arrived at the party.
And now she was in a dark, cramped space with a man who was making her heart race.
“I really was kidding,” she said, her mouth running dry. She gave a rueful sigh. “Being in here reminded me of that game my friends and I used to play in middle school—you know, seven minutes in heaven?”
He made a tsk noise with his tongue. “What a sad game.”
Emma furrowed her brow. “Why sad?”
“Because it fosters the unfortunate belief that a few minutes is all you need. Or worse, that a man can only last seven minutes.” He laughed, deep and sensual. “If I’m in a closet with a woman, I plan on being there all night.”
She snickered. “Oh, really? All night? Someone’s very confident about their stamina.”
“Is that your way of asking me to put my money where my mouth is?” he teased. “If so, challenge accepted.”
Another laugh trickled out. She really wished she could see his face. What color were his eyes? Blue? Brown? Whatever it was, she had no doubt they were twinkling playfully at the moment. Or maybe burning with molten heat.
Her breath hitched when a warm hand brushed her arm. Calloused fingers gently snaked beneath the edge of her robe to stroke the feverish flesh where her shoulder met her neck.
“Kiss me,” he murmured.
It wasn’t a plea. Wasn’t a command, either. It was part question, part statement, and the husky timbre of his voice sent a shiver racing through her.
What the hell was happening? She was in a pitch-black closet with a stranger, and rather than feeling afraid, rather than being turned off or repulsed by his brazenness, she was leaning closer. Allowing those rough fingertips to caress her neck, to glide up her jaw and rub her bottom lip.
He didn’t speak again. He just waited. Sexual heat radiated from his tall, broad body, enticing her closer. Anticipation hung in the suddenly sweltering air. Awareness sizzled between them.
She drew a shaky breath into her lungs. Common sense said she needed to put an end to this insanity and politely excuse herself. But instead she found herself reaching up to grip the bottom of his plastic mask.
He tensed but didn’t move a muscle as she slowly lifted the mask off his face. It was too dark to see him, but Emma ignored the pang of disappointment and did the next best thing. She felt him. Traced his features with her fingers, her breath lodging in her lungs as she explored her stranger’s face. Straight nose, high cheekbones, surprisingly full lips. Bristles of stubble scratched her palms, and when she ran her fingertips along his strong, square jaw, the breath he hissed out heated her knuckles.
“You’re killing me,” he whispered.
His voice was low and tortured, and oddly familiar, but Emma pushed aside the peculiar sensation. She could scarcely breathe. She didn’t typically go around touching strange men, but something about this particular one had kick-started her desire. It had been so long since she’d experienced such a visceral attraction to someone. She was too busy to date. Too busy for sex, too. Her entire life revolved around work and travel and putting out the fires her business partner always seemed to be starting.
But right now, she was dealing with another kind of fire. The kind that simmered in her core and licked at her skin, and damn it, she didn’t want to extinguish it. She wanted to stoke it.
With a shaky breath, she raised herself on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his.
She expected the earth to move, she was so primed. Yet instead of a cataclysmic rush, a whisper greeted her. Like a zephyr drifting over a dead-calm sea, and where they connected was warmth and life and a vivid contrast between together and alone.
She gasped when his tongue slid into her mouth. Making out in the dark added a level of eroticism to the simple kiss. Not being able to see him, not having him see her. She’d chosen to be invisible in her career, but this invisibility was liberating. It allowed her to stop thinking and just feel. To lose herself in one perfect moment and not worry about the consequences.
“Oh, baby, you taste so good,” he rasped, his lips traveling from her mouth to her jaw, then gliding along her tingling flesh to nibble on her ear.
Emma clung to his shoulders, moaning at the hard, masculine feel of him. She swept her palms down the tight muscles of his chest, then slid them around his waist before sliding lower. Firm buttocks filled her hands. Sweet Jesus. The man didn’t have an ounce of fat anywhere on him, and that micro-thin layer let her feel exactly how rock solid he was.
He growled when she squeezed his ass, his lower body thrusting forward. Holy hell. A hot, thick ridge pressed against her pelvis, and she involuntarily rotated her hips, her body craving contact, friction. This time he groaned, and the next thing she knew, his mouth latched on to hers again and he was backing her into the wall behind them.
Except it wasn’t a wall. It was a flimsy metal rack, and the damn thing creaked and shuddered as Emma’s shoulder blades smacked into it.
In a split second, the intense moment they’d been caught up in turned to pure chaos. The supplies on the shelf toppled to the floor, the closet reverberating with crashes and clatters and the plops of liquid-filled containers rolling at their feet.
Emma couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing. She also grabbed her stranger’s shoulders to keep from tripping over the fallen supplies tangling around her high heels.
An array of soft, nearly weightless items rained down on her head. Sponges, she realized, when she caught one of them in her hand. “The sky is falling,” she wheezed between laughs.
Her str
anger was laughing just as hard, one strong arm protectively grasping her hip to keep her from tripping forward. “Don’t worry, darling. Iron Man is here to protect you.”
And with that one sentence, she froze.
Oh shit.
His voice was no longer muffled by the mask, but clear and audible. And she knew that voice. She knew that laugh. Deep and rumbling and naked in its delight.
But no. The idea was crazy. It couldn’t be. There was no way this man could be—
“Dean?” a female voice shouted from beyond the door. “Are you up here?”
Emma’s heart stopped beating. Then it exploded into a frantic gallop that made her lightheaded.
“The cavalry has arrived,” he said dryly.
Dean said it.
Dean Colter.
The sound of muffled footsteps and concerned voices barely registered over the thumping of her heart. Her mind suddenly flashed back to September, to the day before she’d briefly returned to New York after the fashion show. She’d glimpsed a man on the beach that day, a man she’d thought might be Dean, but she hadn’t followed up on the suspicion. Hadn’t googled or done any digging, because she’d decided she didn’t want to know.
Dean was a ghost from her past. No, he was more than that. He was her first love.
And he’d broken her fucking heart.
Worse, he’d ripped apart her dreams at a time when they were fresh and new, her career not even in flower but a trembling bud that needed nurturing. It was only through a miracle she’d managed to get her future back on track after setting aside his promises and the youthful hopes she’d had for their future. After she’d swallowed her pride and pushed through the pain and damn well taken what she’d wanted.
He hadn’t even had the decency to try to contact her so she could throw something in his face. Not for months, anyway, and by then she was smart enough to use the delete key with vigorous enthusiasm anytime his name did show up in her e-mail inbox.
All that history raced through her mind, her pulse drumming in her ears as she stumbled forward and reached for the doorknob. The door swung open before she could turn it. Dim light flooded the closet, but after spending twenty minutes in pure darkness, it was a blinding spotlight right to the eyes. She blinked rapidly, and a redhead in black leather came into view.
“There you are,” the woman said cheerfully, peering past Emma at Dean. “We thought the ghouls and monsters might’ve gotten you.”
“Nope, I’m doing fine.”
Emma’s shoulders stiffened when he came up behind her. He was so close she could feel his breath on the nape of her neck. So close she could smell the heady, woodsy fragrance of his aftershave and the lemony scent of his shampoo.
“This lovely nymph was taking good care of me,” he added in a teasing voice, his fingers drifting over her shoulder in an intimate caress.
The redhead’s smirk was impossible to miss. “Mmm-hmmm. I bet she was.”
Thankfully there was no judgment or derision in the woman’s tone, and when Emma lifted her head, all she saw were playful green eyes and a friendly smile. She kept her mouth shut, though. If she had recognized Dean’s voice, then he’d probably recognize hers, and she couldn’t deal with this right now. This…reunion. Or confrontation. Or whatever the hell it was going to be.
“The power’s back,” Dean’s friend told them. “It’s safe to come back downstairs. But we’re closing up the haunted house in case the rain knocks out the power lines again.”
Emma rearranged the hood of her robe, adjusting it so it hung low on her forehead. “I should go.” She deliberately kept her voice to a whisper, barely audible even to her own ears.
Dean spoke up gruffly. “Wait, I didn’t get your—”
She hurried off before he could finish. Yup, she literally ran away like a chicken-shit, making a beeline for the stairs that led down to the main space.
The party was still in full swing, loud laughter and animated chatter echoing all around her, but she had no plans to stick around. She didn’t even stop to find Suz, who was the only reason Emma had come tonight. The two women had hit it off instantly at the after-party for that charity fashion show in September, and when Emma had decided to spend the winter in San Francisco, she’d made sure to contact her new friend.
At the moment, however, Suz was the last person she wanted to see. The damn woman had dragged Emma to a party where Dean Colter was in attendance, so it stood to reason Suz might know Dean. Or know someone who knew Dean.
She flew onto the sidewalk in front of the warehouse, her costume instantly clinging to her as the torrential rain caught her in its grip. She’d never been happier to see a line of available taxis parked at the curb. In New York, finding a cab on a Friday night was like searching for the Holy Grail, but clearly Suz’s friends had thought of everything.
Without so much as a backward glance, Emma slid into the backseat of a waiting cab and slammed the door.
Colby
Returning from the electrical panel was far easier than his initial mission to reach it in the blackout. Now that he’d triggered the emergency backup system, Colby had plenty of light to guide his return trip to the staging area, where he discovered that the rest of the DreamMakers team had vanished. The sound of laughter and partiers echoed loudly from the rooms around him, and he once again found himself considering his job situation with bemused satisfaction.
Helping run Halloween parties and doing recon for dates was a million miles away from being in combat. And hell, he wasn’t complaining one bit. Especially since a lot of the time he was also surrounded by beautiful women.
One in particular who’d gotten under his skin, although there was nothing between them.
Yet.
“Hey, Cap. I thought you’d be out there leading the exodus.” Suz strolled into the office area where he’d expected to find the others, and he wondered if daydreaming about her had summoned his temptress. She pointed to the front door. “They went thataway, Mr. America, sir.”
“Heading out now.” He stole an admiring glance as he offered his arm. “Can I escort you?”
“Aren’t you a darling.” She curled her fingers around his biceps and tucked herself against his side like a contented cat. Colby tried not to read too much into her actions—the woman was affectionate and flirtatious with nearly everyone.
At least that’s what he told his body, thankful Pepper had given him a Captain America costume with more than spandex covering his groin, because otherwise Suz would see exactly what caliber gun he carried while fully loaded.
Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing, though. Maybe he’d been too subtle about letting her know how interested he was in her.
Damn, she was one fine woman. The low-cut neckline of her Loki costume emphasized her curves, tight-fitting leather encasing her rounded hips in a way that made him feel damn jealous he wasn’t the one hugging her tight.
He tore his gaze away, trying to focus on something other than the violent urge to take her and make some serious mischief. “Too bad Pepper’s test run of the party site didn’t go without a hitch.”
Suz waved a hand in dismissal. “This was exactly why she suggested a pre-party. Now they’ll prep for disasters, and the big night will be smooth sailing. Oh, and I’ve got another article coming out in the Bay City Press on DreamMakers two days before the party.” There was gloating in her tone. “This is going to be the place to hang out on the thirty-first.”
They stepped through the hall into the main room, and Colby paused instinctively, keeping Suz protected as he checked the action. People were moving in an orderly fashion, while his bosses, Jack and Parker, directed traffic.
“Looks like they have everything under control,” Suz whispered, her grasp on his arm tightening briefly. “Come on, I need a drink.”
Oh man. Talk about a dilemma. He wasn’t really on the clock tonight—he’d come out as a favor to Pepper because no one said no to her. She was too damn cute to disappoint.
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Plus, Jack would rip the arms off anyone who made her pout.
But the sexy, vivacious woman at his side had been driving him crazy for too long. She wanted a drinking partner? Or a partner for anything else, if it came to that?
“No problem,” he said, lowering his voice and letting a hint of desire escape. “You have a favorite watering hole near here?”
“Not far.” Suz slipped her hand into his and hurried them out the side door and into a waiting cab, a short pause in the rain letting them get away with a simple dousing instead of being soaked to the skin. She rattled off directions, and then turned her big green eyes his way. “And I invited you out, so I’m paying.”
Bullshit. “I don’t think so, ma’am. My mama would roll over in her grave if she heard I’d treated a lady that poorly.”
Suz leaned her blonde head against his shoulder as her laughter filled the cab. “Sorry, what was I thinking? It’s not just a costume to you, is it?”
Colby offered a grin. “Don’t go thinking I’m exactly like Captain America,” he warned.
The cab stopped, and Suz reached into her bodice and pulled out a twenty, slapping the cash into the cabbie’s hand before Colby could react. He was admittedly a trifle distracted wondering if the money was warm, and how much more she had hidden in places he’d love to explore.
“You’ve never been encased in ice for ages?” she guessed as she accepted his hand, unfurling those long, leather-clad legs as she exited the cab.
He guided her out of the way of a passing crowd, and her body pressed tight to his as they waited for the path into the bar to clear. His lips hovered right next to her ear. “I don’t suffer from virginal fears when it comes to women. I know how to treat ladies right.”
Once again Suz laughed—the sultry, teasing acceptance he’d hoped for. She twisted on the spot, one inch away from damn near full-body contact.
“Interesting, but can you outdrink the ladies? Or this lady?” She walked her fingers up his chest before stabbing him with her thumb. “Winner gets to pay.”