by Kylie Brant
“I’m sure it would be.” He gave her an easy smile which she returned before moving away.
“Ten dollars? You must have some expense account, McKay.” There was no way A.J. was going to give him the satisfaction of commenting on the waitress’s blatant interest.
“It’s just a thinly disguised cover charge. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of juice bars? These places have to be licensed, but they skirt some scrutiny by not applying for liquor licenses.”
The music started, and a woman entered the stage with an obvious bump and grind. Whatever reply A.J. would have made was forgotten as the dancer began shedding the little apparel she was wearing. When the stripper assumed an almost impossible position, all the time swaying to the music, A.J. winced. That had to be uncomfortable.
Dare noted the pained look on her face and nearly chuckled. He couldn’t imagine an environment where she would be more plainly out of her element. The action on the stage held no interest for him. The woman beside him did. Strippers had lost any allure they’d once held when he was seventeen and had discovered there was far greater satisfaction to be had in being the one to remove a woman’s clothes. He doubted Addie would appreciate the sentiment.
A bored-sounding announcer introduced the next dancer, and a new woman pranced on stage. “The waitress will deliver a message to Honey that we want to speak to her. Let me do the talking at first.” Dare raised a hand to forestall the protest he sensed on her lips. “Believe me, in a place like this, the woman is going to be a lot more willing to talk to a man than to another female.”
Because she couldn’t refute his words, she acquiesced gracelessly. “All right, but I’m going to have questions of my own before we’re through.” She watched as the woman from the stage approached them, wariness in her expression. And then she watched Dare spring into action, rising and showing the woman to a seat.
He was good, she was forced to admit, as Honey Stillwell visibly relaxed beneath his charm. The woman dealt with A.J. by ignoring her, which was fine for the moment. She was content to listen for a while.
After Dare had spent what A.J. considered to be an inordinate amount of time complimenting Honey on her show and ordered her something to drink, the dancer appeared to be completely won over. Her interest didn’t waver when he introduced himself, nor when he stated his occupation. It wasn’t until the first mention of Delgado that she showed the first sign of visible unease.
“Now whaddya wanna talk about Paulie for? He’s old news.” Honey scooted her chair a bit closer to Dare’s and leaned toward him so that her skimpy robe gaped at the neckline. “You and me could make some news of our own.”
His smile was pure sympathy. “Bet you’re tired of that topic, right?”
“You said it,” she crooned, smoothing one shapely hand up and down his arm. “I left our apartment as soon as I heard he was in trouble. I said to myself, I said, ‘Honey, you don’t need none of that trouble coming your way.”’ Her red-lined lips pouted as she added, “Don’t know how they tracked me down to my new place.”
It apparently didn’t occur to her to ask Dare the same question, and A.J. was fairly certain she knew why. The woman was giving a good impression of being smitten, and Dare, the fool, appeared to be enjoying every minute of it.
He leaned in closer to the woman with a conspiratorial air.
“Wasted your time, didn’t they? If you’d had any information the police could use, you’d have already called them, am I right?”
“That’s just what I told them detectives,” Honey said, giving Dare’s arm an approving pat for his understanding. “I haven’t seen Paulie since he got himself arrested, and I ain’t gonna. Not that I’m not a loyal kind of gal, but I didn’t really even know him that well, ya know?”
Questions churned inside of A.J., questions that, for the moment, went unuttered. She sat with barely concealed impatience as Dare skillfully extricated bits and pieces from the dancer without seeming to interrogate her. Honey had lived with Delgado for about four weeks, in her apartment. They’d met, she admitted artlessly, when he’d come to the club and seen her dance. He’d been good to her at first, spending lots of money on her and taking her to fancy restaurants.
“How about toward the end?” Dare asked. “Did he change at all?”
For the first time Honey’s gaze met A.J.’s, then slid away. She lifted a shoulder, sending the flimsy robe in a precarious slide. “He wasn’t that bad. Had a temper, I can tell ya that.” Delgado had, they learned, with Dare’s careful prompting, been prone to vicious bouts of violence. But although Honey admitted to suffering a few black eyes at his hands, she denied ever being threatened with a knife. And there had never been any visitors to their apartment, so she had no idea who he’d associated with.
“How about phone calls?” A.J. finally put in, growing frustrated. “Did he have a cell phone?” She knew from the report that there had been no regular phone service in the apartment.
“None I ever saw. Don’t think he ever talked to anyone, least not when he was with me. Never saw him make a phone call or get any letters.” She stopped, as if struck by a thought. “He mailed one once, though. Least, he had me do it for him. Said it was to his sister.”
A.J. and Dare exchanged a glance, an invisible band of energy tightening and humming between them. “Do you remember where she lived?” she asked, scarcely daring to breathe.
Honey appeared to reflect, then shrugged. “Can’t remember. Iowa? Ohio?” She shrugged, as if the mental exercise had exhausted her. “I know her name, though. Nancy.” She began to giggle. “Nancy Clancy. Isn’t that a hoot? I remember it because it rhymes.”
Chapter 5
“Pretty productive day for your first time at a strip joint,” Dare observed as they left the table.
“I’ve got to call Connally. If Honey had told him the name of Delgado’s sister, he would have mentioned it to me.” Addie sent him a pointed look. “It seems pretty convenient that she just happened to bring it up with you.
“It’s understandable.” They reached the exit, and Dare pushed the door open. As they stepped outside, he blinked rapidly. The sunlight was blinding after the dim interior of the club. “People naturally offer more information when they’re comfortable. It goes without saying that their comfort level when talking to police isn’t particularly high. Especially if they live their lives on the fringes of legal.”
He kept up with her easily, although she was covering the distance to his car with the longest strides she could manage. He crooked a grin at her. “You gotta admit, we made quite a team in there. If you ask me real nice, I might even let you tag along once I track down Delgado’s sister.”
Upon reaching his car, she paused and waited for him to unlock it. “I’m sure Connally will manage fine. Your services won’t be needed.”
Had she been looking at him she would have seen the shimmer of anger in his eyes. He leaned in front of her and slipped the key into the lock. “That doesn’t sound very grateful, Addie. Remember, if it weren’t for me you’d still be pounding on closed doors begging for info.”
Her fingers clasping the door handle, she faced him squarely. “I’m not denying that you managed to pick up what could be a valuable lead. But these matters are best left to the police to investigate. Your involvement only complicates the case.” She began to pull the door open.
He pushed it shut again. And to make sure it stayed closed, he kept his palm firmly planted on it. “You know, that sounded suspiciously like a kiss-off.” His even tone did little to disguise the dangerous emotions seething beneath the surface. “But I shouldn’t be surprised. You have a nasty little habit of kicking people aside when you’re done with them.”
If the barb stung, she made sure it didn’t show. He could almost see her defenses surge, click into place. Angling her jaw, she said, “Let’s drop the references to ancient history, shall we? It’s unfortunate that you have difficulty dealing with rejection, but it’s not my problem.”
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The casual dismissal in her voice nudged his temper upward. It was so easy to be reminded of another time when she’d dismissed him just as effortlessly. Just as emotionlessly. He shifted his weight, crowded her against the side of the vehicle, and his voice went soft and low. “Are you sure you don’t have any problems with ancient history?”
A.J. brought her hands up to push against his chest, but he rendered the matter useless simply by moving closer. “No images to haunt?” The words were whispered against her jaw. He was so close his lips brushed her skin as he spoke, and an involuntary shiver chased down her spine. His head dipped and he found the pulse below her ear. “No memories to rise?”
A shudder worked through her as his mouth made its way along her jawline. The act took an eternity. Plenty of time for her to react, either physically or verbally. To break free and return their relationship to what it should be—that of adversaries.
So it was telling that during the interminable moments while his sculpted mouth hovered above her own, she remained motionless. It was shock, she told herself. Sheer surprise at his audacity. But even as she had the thought, it felt like a lie. The flavor of anticipation threading through her was too unmistakable, the pull of temptation too strong. When she finally gathered her wits to form a reaction, it was already too late.
His mouth covered hers. The pressure was firm—a little bit angry and a whole lot hungry. She tasted the demand on his lips and fought against it. In a delayed sense of self-preservation she tensed, began a self-defense move that women were born knowing. But as if sensing her intention he crowded her against the car, his long legs pressed against hers, every inch touching. It was too close, and she felt a sliver of panic, realizing that the moment she’d sworn never to repeat was playing out again.
Dare didn’t lessen the pressure. Pleasure with Addie was fleeting, and before he was done she’d remember that pleasure, every last minute of it. She’d be branded by the same images that had seared themselves into his mind, his memory.
He cupped her nape, brought her face closer, and immediately was sidetracked by the soft skin beneath his hand. It reminded him of other places on her body he’d once discovered, exquisitely feminine places. Just as soft. Just as sensitive. His lips unconsciously softened as they twisted against hers. Dim alarms sounded in his head. If he’d stopped to listen to them he might have realized that his attempt to awaken the memories for her was bound to send his own rioting. But he didn’t stop and he didn’t listen. Her scent, her taste, wiped his mind clean.
A.J. fought to keep from going boneless. Thought was getting increasingly foggy. She’d never denied the man was potent; that was a large part of his danger. Her hands clutched his shoulders. He was tracing the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue, and she recalled just how wicked that tongue could be. The press of his body kept her nearly motionless, and she remembered when she had twisted beneath him, the feel of his weight, his heat. The erotic images, once so securely dammed, rushed forward, one streaming into the other.
Steeped in the scent of her, the taste, it was all too easy for Dare to lose track of his original intent. In his attempt to summon her memories, he was being swamped by his own. The silken texture of her mouth was familiar. Intoxicating. And he knew in that instant that he’d been caught in his own trap. For if Addie was recalling how it had been between them, so was he. If she was remembering each moment of their time together, he was, too. And the hell of it was, at this instant he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Cupping her face in his hands, he slanted his mouth over hers. Her fingers closed around his wrists, but she didn’t push him away. Her tongue touched his in what might have been an accident, then lingered. He encouraged it with his own, and their tongues tangled, wove, their tastes melding.
Glass shattered nearby, and raucous laughter drifted through the air. The blast of noise took longer than it should have, to register. His eyes opened, and the sight of Addie filled his vision. She gazed at him, her eyes slumberous and a little confused, vulnerable for a moment in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. “Ancient history, Addie?” he murmured. “Are you sure it’s really dead and buried?”
She blinked, and he noted the instant that comprehension returned. The fingers on his wrists tightened, and she violently shoved him away. Because he knew it was wisest, he allowed himself to be moved.
“Is there no level too low for you to stoop, McKay?” She sidestepped away from him, uncertain whether the distance was for his benefit or for her own. “I don’t know what you were trying to prove, but try it again and your social life will be impaired for a week. God gave me a knee and I know how to use it.”
If he hadn’t heard the tremor in her voice, he might have reminded her that she’d had plenty of opportunity to stop him and had failed to do so. Conscience rose, and it was damned inconvenient. With savage movements he yanked her door open. “Get in.”
Her tone was incredulous. “After that display? Not a chance in hell.”
His teeth snapped together. “I still have your briefcase in the trunk. If you want it, get in the car. Now.”
They stood there glaring at each other, gazes battling, neither prepared to give. Then she glanced at the trunk, pressed her lips together and complied, slamming the door shut after her. Grimly he rounded the vehicle and got in the other side, started it. Stirring up complications was something he did on a daily basis in his professional life, but in his personal life he liked to keep things simple. And there was nothing in the least bit simple about Addison Jacobs.
A.J. gave an inordinate amount of attention to the acts of buttoning her blouse, slipping into her suit jacket. She attempted to stem the constant replay in her mind, trying to stoke her resentment for McKay. But her recriminations were all for herself.
What was it about this one man that could continually shatter her control? How did he so effortlessly shred years of caution and restraint? The questions taunted, and she could no longer dodge the answers. There was history between them, yes. History she was eager and determined to forget. But it wasn’t buried. Not when the memories were still so clear and could be beckoned so easily.
She’d thought once that she could give in to her physical response to him and still keep her emotions separate. She’d been wrong. In the short weekend they’d spent together, he’d managed to charm her, captivate her, devastate her control.
The man was still charming. He was still devastating. And he was still able to break through her defenses with an ease that terrified her.
When Dare double-parked outside A.J.’s office building, she was out of the car before he had it in gear. Since she knew he had a trunk release in his car, there was absolutely no need for him to get out of the vehicle at a leisurely pace and round the car to unlock the lid. Unless, of course, he was intent on torturing her, dragging the humiliating moments out as long as he could.
When he handed her briefcase to her and met her gaze, she made sure her voice was steady. “I’ll call Connally and update him on the lead with Delgado’s sister. If you come up with something else in the meantime, I suggest you keep him informed.” She took the case, turned away.
“I always do.” He reached out and took her arm when she would have taken advantage of a break in traffic to dart across the street. “Dammit, Addie, wait a minute.” When she glanced at him, the sight of her bland demeanor trapped the words in his throat. She was too good at that—donning an icy mask that gave no hint of her thoughts, her emotions. It was easy, when faced with that expressionless persona, to believe that was all there was of the woman—an icy exterior, cool calm logic and a will of steel. Although he’d caught glimpses of something else inside her—humor, softness and an unlikely vulnerability—they were never more than that. Mere glimpses. A man could be forgiven for believing he’d imagined them.
Except…the taste of her still lingered on his tongue, her scent still trailed through his senses. He rued the moment he’d ever believed he’d seen more in Addis
on Jacobs than she showed to the world. And he most sincerely regretted trying to prove its existence to her a moment ago.
Apologies were bitter, and best gotten out as quickly as possible. He muttered an expletive and dropped her arm, jamming his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ve got no excuse. You just drive me crazy sometimes.”
Her brows arched. “A short trip, it would seem.”
Ignoring the gibe, he plunged on. “It appears that you’ve been right all along. It’d be best if we spent as little time in each other’s company as possible.”
There was a flash of something in her eyes, there and gone too quickly to be identified. “We agree on something at last.” She turned then, posture regal, and started across the street. Dare slumped against the car and watched her go.
There was, he decided, reason to consider his sanity. False modesty aside, he could have any number of women just by picking up a phone. Women who were sweet, funny, smart and a whole helluva lot more interested in having him around. Women he could spend time with and not have to battle through a coat of armor to discover what made them tick. Women, in short, who were the opposite of Addison Jacobs in almost every way.
He had just enough self-preservation left to realize that he needed to find one of those women, and take his mind off the one he couldn’t have. The one he didn’t want, anyway, he assured himself, as he slipped back into his car. He and Addie were like two hot wires: touch them together and sparks flew. The analogy was a little too close for comfort.
The sound of screeching tires wasn’t unusual enough to snag his attention, but when it was accompanied by the blaring of horns, he did look up. And then froze in the act of slipping the key in the ignition. A car was bearing down insanely fast, without regard for other vehicles or pedestrians.