Playful again. How could he so blithely bounce on her bed after she’d just rejected his kiss and told him she didn’t trust him? What happened to Mr. Sullen and Serious? How could he turn it on and off so quickly?
“You’re suddenly in a cheery mood,” she grumbled.
“You’re going to be taking off your clothes. Nothing cheers a man up more than a naked woman.” He crossed his arms behind his head and his T-shirt rose to expose the ripples of his six-pack covered in the faintest shadow of soft, dusky hair. She followed the trail to his belt and then tore her eyes away.
Don’t go there.
An image crept into her mind. James, naked, stretched out just like that on her bed, watching her strip to Danzig’s “She Rides”, his eyes burning into her until she thought she might combust. When she had finished her routine, she crawled over his body intending to settle herself exactly where she wanted to be. But before she reached her destination, he flipped her over and pinned her hands to the bed. It was the first time he had restrained her. It was the hottest sex she’d ever had. And it had just gotten better and better.
But this was life, not sex. Although her body craved him with a soul-deep ache, she had work to do and a heart to protect. Her cheeks flushed and she looked away.
“Babe,” he said softly, “what are you thinking? You keep looking at me like that and I’ll get ideas that’ll make us late.”
Liquid lust shot through her veins but she reined it in. “I’m thinking about how I’m going to change in the bathroom, so there’s nothing for you to see except me pulling clothes out of the closet.”
“There’s a hell of a lot for me to see.” His voice dropped to a rough growl.
Lana closed her eyes and tried to calm the dancing butterflies in her stomach. “James Hunter, are you looking at my ass?”
“You’ve still got the finest ass I’ve ever seen.”
She snatched a dress off a hanger and spun around, her lips quivering with a repressed smile. “You’re still cocky as hell.” She stomped into the bathroom and closed the door.
“And you’re still sexy as fuck,” he yelled.
“Don’t use that biker mouth on me.” Damn. Did she just say that? Maybe he wouldn’t catch the unintended innuendo. His mouth had taken her to places she’d never realized existed.
She splashed cold water on her face and took a few deep breaths. If she didn’t get a grip, she would never be able to spend an entire afternoon with him without trying to rip off his clothes.
“Babe, I know your dark side. You like it when I swear.”
Fire spread through her limbs. He didn’t just know her dark side; he had teased it out of her and fed it with his own corresponding needs.
“I’m older now. More mature.” She tugged on a high-collar, no-skin-revealing, stretch, leopard-print minidress. A muss of the hair. A heavy hand with the makeup. Fug boots. All ready for a biker barbeque. She hoped they were into thrash.
James ripped open the bathroom door and Lana threw herself back against the wall, heart racing and eyes wide.
“You’re only twenty-six,” he announced. “And age has nothing to do with what turns you on.”
Lana straightened herself and sidled past him. “You always were good at math. Not so good with doors.” She made it halfway across the bedroom before he grasped her arm and spun her around.
His eyes roved over her body and stopped at the floor. “Lose the boots.”
“The boots stay. They’re part of the outfit.”
“You’re my old lady. You need to look the part.”
Lana’s heart slammed against her ribs. She hadn’t expected a confrontation over something as trivial as her attire. Putting their lives in danger…that she could understand. But boots? She loved her Zombie Stompers. Comfy. Flat soles. Easy to run. Although a tad warm for summer, they made her feel safe. And, right now, she needed safe.
She gave an exasperated sigh. “I’ve done very short. I’ve done very tight. Rex said nothing about footwear and I need to know I can run if I have to. The only way these boots are coming off is if you pull them off. Try to remember. We’re pretending. I’m not really your girlfriend.”
“You were.”
“You didn’t want me,” she said, her voice small and tight. And that in a nutshell was the source of her heartache. No one had ever wanted her. Not her father, after her mother died. Not the relatives he begged to take her in. Not the kids in high school who had teased her mercilessly about her hair. Not Levi who had put on a show good enough to lure her to Seattle. Not even James.
James closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. “Babe, I never stopped wanting you.”
A knot formed in her stomach. The man who’d broken her heart had no business being tender and sweet. Caught in a whirlwind of emotion, torn between fear and fire, she suddenly, desperately and inexplicably wanted him to rip the boots off her feet.
As if he could read her thoughts, he murmured, “I pull off your boots. You flip out. We kill what little there is left between us.”
Lana let out a soft sigh of disappointment. “Hard to kill something that’s already dead.”
He cupped her jaw with his hand and stroked a thumb over the apple of her cheek. “You still feel something for me, Lana.” His voice dropped to a sensual whisper. “What we had isn’t dead. I hear it in the hitch of your breath. I see it in the flush of your cheeks. I can taste your desire on my lips. And if I stripped you bare, and licked my way down your body, I would find you wet and ready for me.”
Her lips parted in a silent gasp and for an endless second she forgot to breathe. He was right. She was slick with need. He knew her body better than she did. But where did he get off talking to her that way? Crossing that line? Seeking an assurance he wasn’t prepared to give first? Did he think she would jump into bed with him for a bit of fun, only to watch him walk away again? Did he think forgiveness came cheap, with a side of fries?
She eased out of his grasp and grabbed her backpack, prefilled with surveillance equipment, disguises, snacks and her iPod—all the necessities for a stakeout.
“Leaving.”
James’s mouth opened, but before he could say anything, two men in coveralls appeared in the doorway. While they discussed the door replacement with James, Lana reached into her closet for a jacket and caught sight of her new black leather boots covered in a lattice of laces. The heel was high enough to make them dressy, but not so high as to prevent her from running in a bad situation. “Classy chic,” Jackie had called them. Definitely better with the dress. She kicked off her fug boots and pulled the buttery soft leather over her feet, dismissing the not-so-fleeting thought that the boots would make James happy.
After receiving assurances from the carpenters that her apartment would be locked tight when they finished the job, she followed James into the hallway. His gaze dropped to her boots and then snapped up to her face. His eyes softened.
“Babe—”
“Don’t.”
He didn’t. At least not in words. He brushed his lips gently over hers, so soft and sweet this time she couldn’t bear to pull away.
Chapter Seven
She changed her boots.
James grinned and cranked the throttle on his Harley Davidson Rocker. One of the benefits of the undercover assignment had been the opportunity to choose his own wheels and when he’d seen the sporty, vivid-black Rocker in the Harley Davidson showroom, he knew he’d found his bike. The hardcore chopper—low, long, sleek and chromed out—lacked the huge ape-hanger handlebars most of the other bikers favored, but suited his need for speed over style. For the first time, he was glad he had splurged on the hidden passenger cushion. Choppers were not known for a comfortable pillion ride.
Lana’s arms tightened around his waist as he took a wide corner and then blasted along the Vancouver-Blaine Highway toward the clubhouse, leaving Rex’s minions in the dust. He could not have imagined a more perfect day—fuel in the tank, sun in the sky, an e
ndless stretch of road and Lana’s soft, sweet body pressed tight against his back, encased in the riding leathers he had brought for her protection just in case he failed to convince her to stay behind. Ride free, but ride safe.
For a moment he wished they could just drive until they ran out of road. Go back in time. What would have happened if he hadn’t walked out? He had nothing to show for the last two years. The assignment wasn’t over. The bad guys weren’t in jail. He had compromised his identity and his integrity. And he was tired. Dead tired. He needed a break. His career had been one case, one file, one assignment after the other and for every criminal he put away, two more took his place.
He turned onto the King George Highway and zigzagged through dirt trails until he came to the clubhouse. Claw, one of the new prospects, slid open the chain-link gate and James maneuvered the bike into a parking space and eased to a stop.
As they walked to the entrance, Lana’s steps slowed. Her hands clenched and unclenched. Her jaw tightened and she kept her gaze firmly fixed on the ground. He made one last attempt to discern the reason for her anxiety, but she remained uncharacteristically quiet.
He keyed the security code into the lock and pressed his thumb against the print sensor. The door swung open and he stepped to the side to let Lana through.
She didn’t move. Instead, she blanched and sucked in a sharp breath. Shadows swirled through her eyes, darkening them almost to black. A drop of blood welled up on her lip as her teeth sank through the tender flesh.
James frowned. “What’s wrong?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, drew in a few deep breaths and straightened her spine. “Nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.” His pulse raced and his muscles tensed, his body instinctively responding to the unseen threat.
“I’m good,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “No problem. I can do this.”
Warning bells clanged in his mind, but the minute his motorcycle had hit Hades’s turf the surveillance cameras would have picked them up. There was no turning back now.
He clasped her hand and stepped through the door. She clung to him like she was drowning and her tight grip sent his body into full alert.
“Babe…”
“Let’s go.” She gave him a tight smile. “We don’t want to be late.”
The barbeque was in full swing when they reached the outdoor patio. Bikers and their babes lounged, danced, drank and ate to the dirty guitars of Pat Savage’s “Born to Ride”. Punch flipped burgers on the grill. Dawg cracked open beers at the bar. Kickstand sucked shooters from Tally’s cleavage. Tally caught his eye and winked. The curvy, stacked brunette had become a permanent fixture in the clubhouse since she had hooked up with Dawg and with Angel rarely around, she was now the top old lady.
Heads turned when he walked into the melee, Lana plastered to his side. Her unease tugged at something deep inside him, and he put his arm around her and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I’m here, babe. Not going anywhere.”
“Yo, Ice! We’ve all been waiting to meet the old lady.” Dawg tossed him a beer and gave Lana a questioning look.
She rolled her eyes. “Got anything stronger?”
A grin split Dawg’s face and he pulled out a bottle of whiskey. “I like her already, Ice. She’s got balls.”
“Just what every man wants.” Portia’s snippy voice cut through the chatter.
“Who’s that?” Lana looked over at the tall, leggy blonde with interest.
“Hades’s mama. She…she’s there for the guys if they need…have needs.”
Lana cracked a smile, the first one since they’d left her apartment. “I see there’s still some of the old you in there. Most bikers wouldn’t have put it quite so delicately.”
James gave her a puzzled frown. How did she know what bikers would say?
They joined Dawg at the bar and the brothers trickled over to meet her. Although James had been concerned about maintaining the appearance of being a couple, they slid easily into the friendly banter they’d had when they first started going out. After an hour he’d almost forgotten it was just a ruse.
Almost. He continued to keep a watch out for Rex, and over by the clubhouse, Ryder did the same. He gave Ryder a nod and got a smirk in return.
Ryder was one of the few club members who rode clean, refusing to participate in any of Hades’s drug-related activities. A crack shot and a first-rate fighter, he’d always had James’s back and James returned the favor. When the club went down, he would pull every string to make sure Ryder wouldn’t be going to jail with them.
Cheers and shouts drew James’s attention to a group clustered around the picnic tables. Bones held up Kickstand’s club jacket and Punch sat astride Kickstand’s motorcycle with a can of spray paint in his hand. Kickstand had spent every penny of his savings to buy the Harley Sportster when he was accepted as a prospect and his agitation was clear on his face.
“Didn’t guard your stuff so now you gotta choose,” Bones yelled over the cheers of the crowd. Prospect hazing was one of the club’s favorite activities and Kickstand was as green as they got.
“He doesn’t understand it’s a test,” Lana murmured, half to herself. “Someone needs to tell him there’s nothing worse than losing his colors. If he loses the jacket, he won’t need the motorcycle.”
“How do you know that?”
Lana startled and looked away. “Probably something I saw on television.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Aren’t you going to help him?”
“Not my place,” James said. “If he doesn’t know the rules, he shouldn’t be in the club.”
“He’s a good guy.” Lana tried to shove him off his seat and James raised a cool eyebrow.
“They don’t need good guys. They need tough guys. And if you want to get me off this seat, babe, you’ll have to try harder than that.”
Lana pressed her lips together and her eyes glittered. “Are you sure you want to challenge me? It’ll be pretty damn embarrassing for you when I knock your sorry ass off that stool and onto the ground.”
James thumped his beer bottle on the bar counter and folded his arms. Even if she did get him off the stool, seeing her sparkle instead of her fear would be worth every second of the ribbing he would suffer from the brothers. “Go for it, babe. I guarantee you won’t get me off the stool and I won’t even need to use my hands.”
“I am so going to enjoy this,” Lana growled as she stepped back to assess the stool.
“One minute warning,” Bones yelled at Kickstand. “Make your decision.”
Lana glanced up again and her mouth tightened. “Your humiliation will have to wait. I can’t let them take his colors.” She reached over the bar and grabbed a beer.
“Give the guy a break,” she yelled at Bones. “A man can’t make an important decision without a beer in his hand.” She pushed her way through the crowd and handed Kickstand the bottle. A few minutes later she was back at James’s side.
Kickstand stared at the bottle. Then he took a swig of his beer. Color returned to his cheeks. He perched himself on the edge of the picnic table and leaned a casual elbow on his thigh. Then he looked over at Lana and winked.
“What did you say to him?” James murmured.
A smile ghosted Lana’s lips. “Nothing.”
Tally started the countdown, but before she reached ten seconds, Kickstand eased himself off the table, held up a hand and snapped his fingers at Bones with all the bravado of a full-patch brother.
“Colors.”
The bikers roared their approval. Bones tossed him the jacket. Punch gave Kickstand a salute and threw the spray paint in the trash can. Kickstand staggered back in relief and downed the rest of his beer. Then he turned and grinned at Lana.
“Like I said before, you have a soft heart, Lana Parker.” James leaned over on his stool to whisper in her ear. “How did you know he would get the hint?”
She tilted her head to the side and shrugged as her hand slid down the stool
behind James’s back. Did she think he hadn’t noticed?
“We were talking about beer the other night when he walked me to my car. He said he’d never seen a more colorful label than on the Lost Coast Downtown Brown he’d had at Hades. He also said being part of the club meant everything to him.”
“Looks like you’ve got yourself a puppy now.” James jerked his chin toward a wide-eyed Kickstand hovering just out of earshot. “That’s the problem with feeding strays.”
“And this is the problem with making bets with me.” She yanked the stool out from under him with a vicious jerk. James jumped easily to his feet and laughed, his mirth increasing as a grin spread across her face.
“Come on, babe. I saw that one coming a mile away.”
Without thinking, he hauled her into his arms and kissed her, a long, deep, laughing kiss that tugged at his soul. His laughter died away as desire flamed through him.
Lana trembled in his arms and he released her lips, exhaling his disappointment as a tiny frown creased her brow. Then her hands smoothed slowly over his chest and she smiled.
“When did you suddenly become Mr. Spontaneity?”
“Since a beautiful redhead thought she’d knock me off my stool and conceded her defeat with a dazzling smile.”
Her laughter ignited something deep inside him. He swept his arms around her, pulling her fully against his body, capturing her mouth with his. Two years of regret fueled his fire, and he claimed her in a deep, hungry kiss. Her soft body molded to his, her hands tangling through his hair. She tasted of whiskey and she smelled of sunshine, and he didn’t give a damn that they’d become the next show.
“Can I get you a beer, Roxie? You need a burger?” Kickstand shifted from foot to foot, desperate to please and blissfully unaware of how close his interruption had brought him to death.
James tore his mouth from Lana and gazed down at her as she gasped in a breath.
Christ. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her cheeks flushed and her eyes half-closed with passion. His cock pressed painfully against his fly, and it took all his effort to tear his gaze away.
Barely Undercover: Legal Heat, Book 2 Page 7