Tempting Target

by Addison Fox

  It pissed her off.

  “You saunter in here like you own the place. That bright smile that twinkles with laughter and freaking awareness of everyone, all the while you pity me and my circumstances.”

  “What—” He laid a hand on her arm, but she shrugged it off, pushing back her chair.

  “You pity me! Even when we were having sex before, you took it slow and easy, brushing your fingers against the bruise on my cheek like I was some fragile doll who might break. I won’t break! I’m not broken!”

  “All evidence to the contrary.”

  He never moved from the chair, his expression as unwavering and calm as his voice.

  Damn, the man is infuriating! “Don’t sit there looking all superior at me.”

  “I’m not sure I’m sitting here doing anything but letting you get this out. So come on. Give me your best shot. I won’t break, either, and I’ve got more than enough interest in you to still like you when it’s done.”

  Whatever had been roiling and writhing like a coiled ball of snakes leaped out and struck.

  “And there you go! You’re acting all calm and rational and reasonable while I’m carrying on like a freaking shrew.”

  “A freaking shrew who makes food porn. I’m telling you, I’m interested.”

  “Stop it!”

  The amusement that hadn’t quite left his eyes vanished as he leaped up from his chair, crossing to her. He towered over her as she stood with her back to the counter and that same image of the lazy lion morphed into something far more dangerous and predatory.

  “Stop what?”

  She swallowed hard, the sudden reality of having him leaning over her as sexy as it was overwhelming. “You show up here like you own the place. Like the day you walked into my shop, with your questions and your dark gaze roaming around the office and the kitchen. Judging it all. Judging my friends. Judging me.”

  “I was doing my job.”

  “Your job is to get evidence.”

  “My job is to figure out what happened. To dig under the surface and find answers.” He brushed her cheek, his finger tracing Steven’s mark. “And I don’t pity you.”

  “You act like it.”

  “Since when are tender ministrations anything other than tender?”

  “Since they made me feel like you think I’m fragile and broken.”

  “I don’t think you’re fragile and broken. I do think that you’re crazy and these last few minutes only prove that.” He moved in quickly, his mouth hot on hers. “Fortunately I seem to like crazy.”

  “Reed—” She pressed at his shoulders, the hard muscle there nearly her undoing.

  “Shut up.” His mouth covered hers once more, his tongue parting her lips. She met the assault, then moaned as his fingers flipped to the tie at her waist, dragging open the thin material of her robe. Hot and rough, his hands roamed over her skin, leaving her nerves in near-painful awareness.

  His hands dipped to her waist and before she could register what he was doing, he had her in a tight grip and lifted her to the counter. The new position shifted the balance between them, placing her head above his as she leaned over him.

  “Now who’s in charge?” he whispered against her lips before diving them both under with a hot, carnal flick of his tongue against hers.

  She smiled against his mouth, before using her position to her advantage. “I am.”

  Kiss after kiss spun out, each hotter than the last. She ran her hands down his neck, her thumbs skimming the hard length of his collarbone, before she gripped the rounded strength of his shoulders.

  That same image—of hard, leonine strength—again filled her mind’s eye. Although Reed never fully looked unassuming and meek, he did manage to convey an air of quiet understanding and subtle masculinity when on the job.

  But here. Now.

  He was all masculine strength and predatory grace.

  “If you’re really in control, then you won’t mind if I do this.” His hands moved again, shifting from their grip on her hips to the tops of her thighs. With insistent motions, he parted them, then used his finger to trace her most sensitive folds.

  “Reed!”

  He caught the last part of her scream with his mouth, his hands never leaving her body. Hard, decadent waves of pleasure swamped her as he kept up his steady assault. Moments spun out as she rode the dark, dangerous waves.

  And then the moment broke and she was flying, her hands flexing hard on his shoulders as she sought purchase against something. With someone.

  With Reed.

  Before she could catch her breath or even form a coherent thought, he dragged her against him. He’d lost the jeans he’d worn downstairs—where had they gone?— but had managed to snag a condom in the rush.

  “You’re prepared.”

  “With you, my love—” he pressed a hard kiss to her lips “—I’m eternally hopeful.”

  He made quick work of the condom and then pulled her against him, their bodies locked tight. She braced her hands on the counter, using the hard surface for leverage as he set a hard, driving rhythm for both of them.

  As the world quickly rushed up to meet her, exploding through her body with the force of something more powerful than she ever could have imagined, recognition struck.

  He’d called her my love.

  And as she fell, Lilah knew she felt the same.

  Chapter 16

  Reed toyed with the idea that he’d died, but he figured heaven would be more comfortable than a solid hardwood floor and hell wouldn’t involve a naked woman draped over him, deliciously warm and pliantly soft.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Hmm?”

  Recognition rapidly returned and with it, an uncomfortable wave of embarrassment that he’d let Lilah push his buttons. With gentle hands, he tugged at her shoulders, shifting them to a seated position. His tailbone protested the movement against the solid floor beneath him and he chalked it up to penance for losing his temper.

  “I’m good.” A shy smile tipped up the corners of her lips. “And I like you when you’re mad.”

  “You’re good?”

  “Better than good.” She pressed a quick kiss to his lips before wiggling off his lap. “I’m a woman who just had sex in my kitchen.”

  “It’s an experience.”

  “And, thanks to you, a new one, as well.”

  Reed was halfway to a standing position when her words stopped him. “New?”

  “Hmm?” Lilah was halfway to the floor herself, retrieving her robe. “New what?”

  “You’ve never had sex in the kitchen before?”

  “No. Have you?”

  He took a moment, pleased when she hit him with a swift smack to his shoulder.

  “Clearly you need to dive into a rather large catalog of entries, Detective.”

  “My hesitation is because I can’t recollect ever finding the kitchen counter all that enticing. So, yeah, it’s a first for me, too.”

  She leaned up on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his lips before she breezed out of the kitchen and Reed was left standing there, an oddly dazed feeling as if he’d just run sprints in the precinct’s gym rushing through his veins and making him slightly light-headed.

  Who’d have thought?

  He had the great good fortune to initiate kitchen sex with the baker of his dreams.

  * * *

  Reed was still humming with his evening revelations from Lilah when he keyed into Jessie’s hard stare from his passenger seat. “I can hear you thinking, Jess. What is it?”

  “You still haven’t told me why I sent a patrol car to pick up Diana G. I gave you space but I’m fast losing my patience since you won’t share why.”

  “She wasn’t picked up by p
atrol. She was put under their protection.”

  “Same thing.”

  “I think those who’ve been legitimately picked up would beg to differ.” He barely avoided the second swat to his arm that morning when he rushed on, “I needed to see her about something.”

  “What?”

  “A personal matter.”

  He expected anger—had braced for it, in fact—so when he heard a hard sniff, he risked his focus on Central Expressway traffic to look at her. “Jess?”

  She waved him off on a hard harrumph. “Nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing. What’s wrong?”

  “We’re partners and we’ve been friends longer than that. I can’t believe you won’t tell me what’s going on.”

  Whatever mistrust had driven him since discovering his stepfather’s identity disappeared in the face of her anguish. He had to tell her.

  But he’d be damned if he was going to do it in a government-issue sedan that had possible listening devices embedded in the dash.

  “No. I won’t.”

  The next five minutes passed in perfect silence. He pulled into a small parking lot that housed a jeweler, a bakery and two real-estate agents. These strips were a fixture of Dallas living, usually half a block from a freeway entrance, and the stretch of storefronts normally housed any number of small businesses in and around the city.

  He imagined Lilah, Cassidy and Violet here and realized they fit far better in the Design District than in a tiny, cramped shop. He’d thought it strange, on his first visit, to realize they had a bridal salon in the heart of the city’s old Warehouse District. But as he’d observed what they’d built—from Lilah’s state-of-the-art kitchen to Cassidy’s workspace to Violet’s efficient office setup—he realized they’d found a space that was perfect for their business.

  Jessie was out of the car first and he followed her, pulling her to a small seating area one of the Realtors had set up in front of her office. “Come here.”

  “So you can ignore more of my questions.”

  “No. So I can tell you what’s going on.”

  A distinct change morphed her features from hurt to curious, her inherent cop’s nature quickly overtaking everything else. “Out here?”

  “It’s better than the car.”

  He waited until they were both seated, the car still parked several doors down, when he filled her in, confident there was no chance their conversation was bugged. He explained what he’d discovered since the break-in at Elegance and Lace, especially the news since DeWinter gave his deathbed confession.

  The sullen features she’d worn in the car had vanished, replaced by a combination of disbelief and very real sadness. “Reed, it’s not possible. You know the man. He’s your stepfather, for Pete’s sake. He can’t be a murderer.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s Tripp. Mr. Lange. Diana G.’s husband. You do realize your mother has impeccable taste and good sense. And she’s no one’s fool. How could your mother be married to an evil murderer for twenty years?”

  “She’s spent the entire night asking herself the same thing.”

  “I’m sorry. I just can’t see it.”

  “I’m beginning to think that’s the point.”

  He and Jess tossed ideas back and forth as they waited for the jeweler to arrive, the unreality of the conversation striking both of them more than a few times.

  “There she is.” Reed pointed to the old Cadillac that pulled into the parking space next to his sedan. “Maria Davidson.”

  With a cop’s skill for compartmentalization, he and Jess both pasted on smiles and headed for the woman as she stepped from her car. Although the vehicle might show its age, the granddaughter of Gunnar Davidson—believed appraiser of the Renaissance Stones—was as young and fresh as a Texas spring. She wore designer heels like a pro, along with perfect hair and makeup that would still look as impeccable at five o’clock when she walked out of the store.

  “Excuse me? Miss Davidson.”

  A small layer of confusion skittered across her dark gaze as she took in both of them. “Yes?”

  “Dallas PD, ma’am.” He and Jessie held up their badges in unison. “We’d like a few moments of your time.”

  * * *

  “Kitchen counter? I’m impressed.” Violet reached over and squeezed Lilah’s hand. “Although you now know I’m not coming over until you disinfect the whole damn room.”

  “Spoilsport.” Gabriella elbowed Violet from her position on the other side of the conference table. “You think of Lysol and I’m thinking of juicy details. Spill ʼem.”

  Lilah blushed, the heat rising in waves from the top of her chest to the top of her head. Why had she even started this discussion?

  Because you’re happy and you want to share, a little voice in her mind quickly rose up to admonish her.

  “I say you should only share what you’re comfortable sharing,” Cassidy said from her side of the table as she organized a row of photos in front of her.

  “Spoilsport,” Gabby muttered again.

  Cassidy shot her a pointed glare, before adding, “I also think that, as your best friends in the entire world, that means you should be comfortable sharing everything.”

  “That’s more like it.” Gabby nodded. “Leave no detail undescribed. Including just how broad Detective Yummy’s shoulders actually are when you get his shirt off.”

  Lilah nearly choked on her coffee since that thought had run through her mind more than once. “Broad. Impressively so.”

  “I knew it.” Gabby dropped her chin into her fist. “Cassidy gets the sexy architect and you get the sexy cop. And Violet’s going to have the other sexy architect if said sexy architect has his way.”

  “I am not doing anything with the sexy architect.”

  Three pairs of eyes descended on Violet before Lilah pressed her. “So you do admit he’s sexy.”

  “I’m not blind, Lilah. Max Baldwin is attractive.”

  “I knew it!” Cassidy slammed a hand on the table, scattering her carefully ordered photos. “I knew you had a thing for Max.”

  “Tart insults that border on nasty are not a thing.”

  “They are in every book and movie and second-grade crush,” Gabby added.

  “Well, this isn’t a book or a movie and it sure as hell isn’t second grade.” Violet closed the subject with all the finesse of slamming a door. “It is, however, a major problem. We’ve got two weddings in the next two weekends and no way of knowing if the threat against us is going to manifest itself there.”

  “It can’t,” Cassidy protested. “What would someone have to gain?”

  “A lavish, business-destroying way to take us out.”

  Lilah fought the urge to shake her head—cartoon-style—at Violet’s ominous words. “You don’t really think our brides are at risk? Their guests?”

  “How can we know?” Violet said. “We have no idea how deep this goes. And Tripp Lange is a powerful man even without us understanding his underworld connections. A lot of people will do a lot of unpleasant things for the promise of a few thousand dollars.”

  Lilah digested Violet’s words, the reality of what she suggested not as impossible as it seemed. “But it’s a major event. Saturday night’s at one of the city’s largest hotels. Their security’s already involved in the wedding overall, to make sure they’re monitoring anyone coming or going who’s had too much to drink.”

  “I can recruit some of my cousins to help out,” Gabby offered. “And I’m not catering this, just helping you all with extra arms and legs, so I know what to keep watch for.”

  “It’s a start.” Cassidy tapped a finger on one of the photos. “Tucker and Max will help and I’m sure Reed will, too. We just need to see if he can add any help from the PD.”
>
  The events of the past week rushed through her mind’s eye and Lilah hated the thought that settled with dark finality. “I’m not sure the Dallas PD is quite the friend we think they are.”

  * * *

  Reed had given Jessie the lead as she explained the purpose of their visit to Maria Davidson. He’d sensed she would be more comfortable hearing the news from a woman, and Maria’s quick agreement to talk had only verified his instinct was spot-on.

  “My grandfather talked on occasion of magnificent stones he’d appraised years ago. I remember hearing the story as a kid, the idea of these large rubies brought here to Texas a fanciful story.” The vestiges of memory lit up her dark eyes with wry humor. “I think they’re one of the reasons I chose to follow my grandfather’s footsteps into the business.”

  “Did he keep any records?”

  Maria smiled, her dark gaze tinged with warm memories. “My grandfather was of the old school. He scribbled it on paper and dropped it into a filing cabinet. If you can call that records, you’re more than welcome to take a look through what I’ve got.”

  Reed glanced around the small establishment, not sure where they’d keep fifty years of paperwork, but appreciated the offer all the same.

  “May I ask why the sudden interest in this? My grandfather’s been gone a few years and no one’s asked before now. Hardly anyone ever asked while he was alive, either.”

  “Someone asked him about the stones?”

  “I remember one of his good customers asked about them a few months before he passed away.”

  “Did your grandfather think anything of it?”

  “Oh no. My grandfather had a soft spot for any client who regularly purchased their jewelry from Davidson’s.”

  A small, cold feeling punched his gut, leaving icy edges in its wake. “Could you share the name of this client?”

  “We don’t normally—” Maria broke off, confusion warring with the knowledge she’d shared something that caught their attention. “I mean, it’s confidential.”

  Ever the diplomat, Jessie offered up a small smile. “It’s a basic investigation, Miss Davidson. All we’re doing is checking some background details and asking questions.”