by Cathryn Fox
"That's not good, Sam."
"Nope, not good at all."
"What does that mean?" He loved the teasing lilt in her voice. Loved this playful side of her and her adventurous spirit. Once again, the hunger inside him took hold, consuming his thoughts.
He frowned. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to run the experiment again."
She took a moment to digest what he said, then shook her head in mock exasperation. Her soft whisper covered him.
"Where are you ever going to find another lab rat this time of night?" Suddenly her eyes opened wide. "There is always Bonnie," she rushed out.
Sam chuckled at the mention of his lab rat. "Can't."
"No?"
"Sleeping."
"Can't wake her?"
"Grumpy without her nine hours." I see.
"That really only leaves one solution."
"Only one?"
He crushed his body against hers and pushed his full fledged hard-on against her hip. "Only one," he said firmly, sending her a silent message, hoping to make her as crazy as she was making him.
She blew out an exaggerated breath. "Well hell, the things I have to do in the name of science."
* * *
Chapter 5
Sam shaded the early morning sun from his eyes as he tapped the brakes on his Jeep and rounded the corner to the Research Center. Stifling a yawn, he angled his head, anxious to see if the huge mob picketing the front entrance had dwindled any since yesterday.
Chances were, if the crowd had dissipated, normal testing would once again resume, which meant he'd no longer need Cat's assistance. That thought settled in his stomach like a lump of cold oatmeal. The problem was, even after last night's delicious experiment, he hadn't quite finished with the little wildcat yet or gotten her out of his system.
There was something different, something intriguing about Cat that made him want to keep her around longer. Maybe it was the way she cared about his future and stepped up to help him when he needed it. No woman had ever really cared about him before. Not even his own mother or one of her stand-ins over the years, and certainly not any of the women he dated.
Or maybe it was the way Cat lacked inhibition around him, opening up and trusting him enough to give herself over to him completely last night, which in turn made him open up and give himself over to her.
A wave of unease curled around him, leaving him feeling a little off balance. He suspected this was a dangerous game they were playing. One that could ultimately end with him wanting more than a few nights of experimental sex.
Lessons learned early on reminded him to keep a modicum of distance. So what the hell happened to that modicum of distance when he'd sank into Cat's plush softness last night? Twice?
He worked to redirect his thoughts, forcing his mind not to conjure up heated memories of the way her plump lips parted and green eyes lit up while he brought her to orgasm. Over and over again. Tried not to think about the way his engorged cock felt inside her tight sheath as he too reached an earth-shattering climax. Twice.
Striving for nonchalance about what they'd done the previous night and what they were going to do again tonight, he took the corner to the back lot and shot a glance at the front entrance. A relieved rush of air exploded from his lungs when he spotted a few lone protestors milling about. He paused to consider his reactions.
He actually blew out a relieved breath .. .fuck.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, he'd been kick-ass mad about all the negative attention and the fall out from Cat's article. Now, here he was, fucking happy to see the protestors back.
Happy, for Christ sake.
He had to be insane. Or perhaps he'd sniffed one too many chemicals at the lab. That had to be the only logical explanation.
Sam parked in the underground parkade, tossed his backpack over his shoulder, and entered the building through the rear entrance, avoiding the last of the die-hard protestors.
He climbed the stairs and started toward the front security counter. After he signed in, he made his way to the elevator. He spotted Kale coming from the stairwell.
With a hurried gait, Kale rushed to catch up. "Hey, Sam."
"How's it going?" Sam asked, noting the weary lines around Kale's eyes. "Another rough night?"
Kale smiled. "It shows?"
Sam jabbed the elevator button. "Why don't you drop Samantha off with me some night this week so you and Erin can get some rest?"
Kale clapped Sam's shoulders. "Now there's an offer I can't refuse." Kale yawned and stretched. "How about this weekend? There is a new movie opening Saturday we'd like to see. Erin and I can catch the matinee and then go to sleep right after dinner."
Sam chuckled. "Sounds great."
Kale arched a brow. "Unless babysitting on the weekend will interfere with your personal life. We could always wait until some day next week."
Sam shook his head. "No, it's not a problem."
"No big date this Saturday?" Kale probed.
Sam gave another quick shake and redirected the conversation. He had no intentions of discussing his personal life with Kale. "Why are you here anyway? You're off on leave for the next month. You should be home catching up on your sleep."
Concern etched Kale's face. "Because I wanted to talk to you." They both stepped onto the elevator.
Slanting his head, Sam met Kale's somber glance. Sam recognized that look. He'd encountered the serious side of Kale a time or two in the past, last night at his apartment being the most recent.
Sam starched his spine, his shoulders stiffening. "What's up?" he asked, suspecting he already knew the answer to that question.
Kale got right to the point. "I didn't realize it was the reporter you had a date with."
Sam rolled one shoulder, looking casual, yet feeling anything but.
Kale cast him a knowing look. "She's a reporter, Sam. You need to start thinking with the right head."
Sam drove his hands deep into his pockets and fixed Kale with a look that told him to drop it. "I've got everything under control," he assured him.
Refusing to let it go, Kale crossed his arms, leaned against the wall and pressed on. "This is a dangerous game you're playing."
He didn't know the half of it.
When Sam didn't respond, Kale continued. "How do you know she's not trying to get close to you just to get another story?"
It's wasn't like he hadn't thought of that himself. The truth was he really didn't know Cat very well at all. And damned if he didn't want to rectify that.
"She's a reporter, Sam. She can't be trusted."
She's also a woman. One who stepped in to aid him with his experiment, to help make things right for him after her article threatened his future. One who pulled far too many emotions from him. Damn.
He suddenly felt very protective of her. The same way he felt protective of all those he cared about. He clenched his jaw and bit out, "Drop it, Kale."
"I only have your best interests at heart."
The elevator came to a grinding halt and the doors cleared.
"Be careful, Sam."
With Kale's words of warning echoing in his head, Sam stepped off and made his way down the hall.
He fisted his hands, annoyed, not only with Kale but with himself. Something about Cat had him acting completely out of character. He wasn't inclined to take risks with his work or the Research Center's security.
Sam knew Cat's drive and ambition matched his. That much was evident. And wouldn't Sam do anything to complete an assignment? Even go against protocol? What about Cat? How far would she go to get what she wanted?
Unnerved by the direction of his thoughts, Sam stopped outside his lab. He slipped his card through the electronic lock and pushed it open with much more force than necessary. He was immediately greeted by his wide awake and active chimp.
His mood lightened. "Hey Rio, how's it going girl?" He opened her cage and swung her to his hip. He signed, "Are you hungry?"
"Starving" was her ans
wer. Sam chuckled, opened his backpack, and prepared Rio's breakfast. Once Rio had been taken care of, Sam turned his attention to the teetering stack of papers on his desk.
He blew out an exasperated breath and sank into his chair. He hated this part of the job. He'd rather be cooking up a new serum… or testing said serum.
His assistant usually filled out all the forms and reports, but with her grandmother's recent death, she'd been away from the lab for the past week.
Knowing the paperwork wasn't about to take care of itself, Sam dug in, his attention focused on the presentation he'd give the Grant Governing Board once his testing was complete. If all went according to plan, he'd be presenting his findings next week and securing future grants for the center. He'd yet to figure out how to explain it to his Director, but he was hoping once the grant came through, Reginald would let him off with a warning. At least he hoped so.
Elbow deep in filling out reports and documenting his findings to date, the morning flew by. Before he knew it his stomach began to grumble. He'd packed a sandwich in his backpack, but Sam knew that wouldn't sate his hunger. At that particular moment he had a craving for something else. And that something else was a vine-ripened, succulent orange.
Sam climbed from his chair and stretched. Maybe he'd shoot on over to the market and pick up a dozen oranges. As he threw his coat on and made his way to his door, a stack of mail caught his attention. Damn, it had been piling up for the last week. He picked it up and thumbed through it, stopping on the one and only envelope addressed directly to him.
He tore into it. His heart kicked into gear as he scanned the words. Shit. This was much more serious than he thought.
"Rio, come here." Rio dropped the blocks she'd been playing with, and with Sam's assistance, settled herself onto his hip.
As Sam read the note a second time, he pulled Rio in tighter. His anger flared and burned through him, his heart beat in a mad cadence. "Son of a bitch," he whispered under his breath. No one threatened those he cared about and got away with it.
He rushed from the lab and made his way to the Director's office. He found Reginald's door ajar. Sam knocked and poked his head in.
"I need to talk to you," Sam said.
Reginald waved him in. "Come in. I was just about to stop in to see you to discuss your research."
Sam's blood went cold. Shit. Had Reginald found out what he'd done last night? If so, they'd have to discuss it later. Right now he had more important things on his mind. Saving his ass would have to wait. Sam didn't give the Director a chance to elaborate.
Without waiting for an opening, he rushed on. "I think we need to discuss this first." After adjusting Rio on his hip, he handed Reginald the note. Agitated, Sam fisted his hands and explained, "Some son of a bitch out there," he jerked his thumb toward the window, "threatened to kidnap Rio to keep her safe from my experiment. Jesus, what's it going to take to get it through to them that Rio is my pet?"
Reginald frowned as he scanned the words. He twisted in his chair, the seat groaning under his weight. "Well this really puts a crimp into things." He reached for the phone. "Time to contact Detective Doyle, I believe."
Pacing, Sam listened as Reginald discussed the situation with Detective Doyle. He remembered him from a few years back when the lab had been broken into by their competitors. After Reginald relayed the information, he hung up and turned his attention to Sam.
"They're on their way. I'll handle it." Reginald stood and walked over to his window. "Until they get to the bottom of this, I'd suggest you keep your eye on Rio and watch your back. Some of these protestors can get downright violent."
Sam's nostrils flared. "We'll see about that."
Reginald put his hand on Sam's shoulder, a calming gesture. "Listen," the Director said firmly, his voice laced with warning as though he read Sam's intentions. "Don't go out there. Let the police handle it. Lock Rio up in your lab, go get some fresh air, and cool off."
Sam exhaled a resigned breath, knowing he needed to blow off some steam before he exploded and accosted a group of protestor's. Not a great move to help his cause.
Heeding the Director's advice, Sam secured Rio in her cage, took the elevator to the main lobby, and made his way to the underground parkade.
His mind raced with the unpleasant turn of events. He knew Rio would be safe at the lab, but what the hell would it take to get protestors off his back for Christ sake? He paused, giving it further thought. Perhaps another article by Cat would make a difference. Nothing had worked so far. Not even the news conference Reginald had held. Maybe asking her to write another piece was worth a shot. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they say. After all, a second article redeeming him and his experiment couldn't do any more harm.
Could it?
Sam maneuvered his Jeep into lunchtime traffic, taking a sharp left turn toward Cat's newspaper office. As he negotiated through the noon hour rush, he worked to convince himself that the threatening letter was the driving force behind his fierce need to see her. Not because the minute he'd dropped her off last night, he'd longed to feel her in his arms again and couldn't wait until tonight to see her.
Fuck…
Third cup of coffee in hand, Cat sipped and stared at the blank computer screen, willing the caffeine to take hold and clear the fog from her lust-saturated mind long enough for her to write something creative. At this particular moment, she'd even settle for something decipherable. Unfortunately she found herself too preoccupied with last night's delicious experiment for her to string together a coherent sentence.
She blinked and fought valiantly to focus her mind on the task ahead. Lord knows, no New York newspaper would ever touch her if she couldn't even conjure up the words to put together one measly little fluff article.
She closed her eyes, gifting herself with one more minute to remember the way Sam touched her, promising herself after sixty blissful seconds, she'd focus her thoughts and pull her article together before tomorrow's deadline.
As her lids slipped shut, heated memories of how Sam's hands caressed her naked flesh, pushing, pulling, raising her passion higher and higher, drawing her in deeper until she was drowning in pleasure, rushed through her mind.
Skin flushed from heat and desire, Cat pressed her fingers into her thighs and squeezed as she thought about all those strategically placed mirrors. Her body quaked just thinking how Sam went to so much trouble to seduce her mind as well as her body. Her skin moistened. Her pulse leapt. A small moan crawled out of her throat.
She remembered the way her breasts trembled as Sam lapped at her, making slow, skilled passes over her nipples with the soft blade of his tongue. She clamped her legs together as they began to quiver with yearning.
Cat recalled Sam's deep hypnotic voice and the way he coaxed her to let go and enjoy. Not that there had been much coaxing going on.
Cat inhaled, but what she drew into her lungs was not delectable memories of Sam's heady aroma. The offensive scent of cheap aftershave assaulted her senses and pulled her from her musings. Passion receding, she blinked her eyes open. Out of her peripheral saw Eric Hawkins crane his neck around the fabricated divider separating their desks.
Oh joy.
Of course, she knew it had to be Hawk; no one else in the office reeked of cheesy cologne. He reminded her of that cartoon skunk Pepe Le Peu, with ribbons of his funky scent billowing behind like a cloud of dust.
"Eric," she greeted through clenched teeth, refusing to give in and call him Hawk, no matter how much he insisted.
He leaned forward, his dark hair cloaking his beady eyes. "Rough morning?" he asked, gaze panning the length of her. "You were making strange noises."
Cat shivered and folded her arms, her skin crawling from his physical inspection.
"No," she said flatly, shifting in her seat, making it clear with her body language that she had no interest in pursuing a conversation with him.
He wasn't deterred. Hawk grabbed his jeans, right around the vicinity of his
crotch, and tugged before propping himself onto the corner of her desk. Cat resisted the urge to retch.
This man, and she used that term loosely, barely two years older than her, assumed his senior position gave him pull with the ladies, inside the office and out. He strutted the streets like he was God's gift to women. Lord, if Hawk was the gift, Cat hated to see the consolation prize.
Hawk raked his hand through his black hair, pushing it off his forehead. "It appears that little article of yours sure has caused a lot of trouble for that scientist." The man wasn't known for his subtleness.
Cat grumbled something incoherent under her breath.
He inched closer, until his thigh touched her arm. "I could probably talk Blain into letting you write another one." When she met his glance, Hawk shot her a suggestive look.
She watched as he toyed with his pen, an annoying little habit he had. Cat gripped her coffee cup tighter, resisting the urge to grab that pen from him and pierce a hole in his over-inflated ego.
The truth was, Cat had asked Blain to let her write another piece, to clear up the media's erroneous take on her first article. Unfortunately, Blain refused to let her follow up on the story, insisting she keep to her "Cat on the Prowl" articles because that's what the readers expected from her. The only reason he had let her try her hand at an article in the first place was to appease her after months of hassling him.
Of course, it occurred to her if she wrote a follow-up and managed to convince activists Sam wasn't testing the serum on Rio, he'd no longer need her assistance for his experiment. As much as she knew another night with him would be her emotional undoing, she couldn't help herself. She needed to be with him again as much as she needed her next breath.
"So what do you say, Kitty-Cat?"
Her head snapped up. "I told you not to call me that."
Ignoring her, he continued. "Do you want me to talk to Blain for you?"
As much as she'd like to write another article, she didn't want any favors from Hawk. God only knew what he would want in return. She shivered just thinking about it.