“I’m on it.” All in the line of duty, right? The whole point was to make this look real. He reached around and his fingers brushed the back clasp. Could be his hands were shaky, but the damn thing eluded him. He put his palms on top of her thighs and settled her on his lap. “You’re a moving target. Sit still for a minute.”Her hands returned to his shoulders. He leaned forward to complete his assignment, inadvertently rasping her shoulder with his jaw. Her little shiver of reaction sent a bolt of heat straight to his groin. Sweat rolled into his eyes. He squeezed them shut and counted to ten, trying to get himself under control.“There we go,” he murmured, opening his eyes and leaning back. Annabelle didn’t move a muscle, but her shuddery exhale sent the bra straps sliding down her arms, revealing her breasts in all their glory. Choking back a groan, he lowered his hands to his sides, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of her, all up close and personal.Her small, pink
“Your memory seems to have improved tremendously in the last couple days,” he observed, shifting closer.“I’ve had plenty of time to think about my clients since Saturday. You’d be surprised what you can remember about someone when you’re considering whether he might be a killer.”He closed the file folder and nodded. Lighter, sun-burnished strands of his hair gleamed under the fluorescent lights. “Let’s cut to the chase then. Do any of these men worry you?”“No. My VIPs are harmless.”His brows shot up, speculatively. “I don’t know if we can trust your judgment there. After all, Carlos Chan and Arthur Montero weren’t exactly harmless. One pulled you offstage. The other did something during a private dance that convinced you to have him bounced.”She’d said as much to Annabelle and was prepared to provide the same reply she’d received. “Carlos was drunk when he pulled me offstage. He didn’t normally drink much, but for some reason he overindulged that evening. The alcohol made him clu
“I’m not—” She broke off. Those consuming eyes of his interfered with her ability to craft a lame explanation. Shifting her attention to the center of his chest, she tried again. “I’m not at a place, at this point in my life, where I can date.”He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and stared at her for several seconds. “You’re afraid,” he finally said, his voice a combination of disbelief and certainty. “A woman brave enough to follow her conscience into a dark parking lot at two thirty in the morning is scared to follow her heart toward something right in front of her.”Her heart felt like an anchor at the moment, heavy in her chest, incapable of leading her anywhere. When she didn’t reply, he dropped his hand and gave a small, humorless laugh. “You’re a tough one, Annabelle Belmonte, and yet something this simple scares you to death. I don’t know why I’m surprised. You’ve been a bundle of contradictions from the start.”“I’m sorry,” she said softly, and forced herself t
It took a few seconds. Finally, she raised her eyes to his and said, “What you’re doing is not an investigation. It’s not even a plan. It’s suicide.” Her adorable chin trembled and sent a funny contraction straight through his heart. “You’re crazy if you think I’m just going to stand by and let put yourself squarely in a killer’s sights.”She was worried for him. A wave of tenderness washed over him, startling him almost as much as her concern. “That’s exactly where you are, Annabelle. I thought you could use some company.”“Think again,” she shot back and struggled against him. “I’m telling Val I won’t dance for you anymore.”“No, you’re not.” He flexed his quads and scooted her forward in his lap. Her thighs draped over his, her plush breasts welled against his chest. The coconut-vanilla scent of her made his senses swim. Following a wayward impulse, he leaned close and found her ear with his lips, enjoying a flare of satisfaction when she inhaled swiftly. “I’m not some clueless cli
Before she could find her tongue, Ben got up, walked over, and stood beside Tommy. Apprehension coiled her gut. Tommy towered over her by more than half a foot and outweighed her by a good hundred pounds of solid, hard-packed muscle, but Ben had him by at least three inches and fifty pounds.“Now you’re confused about the rules,” the big man. “She don’t need to say a word. You back off when I say so. I’m saying so right now.”Tommy’s eyes never left hers. “What do you say, Annabelle? Want me to back off?” He didn’t let go of her arm.Fear froze her heart in her chest. She knew what he was trying to do—provoke a confrontation with Benjamin and get kicked out—and she desperately wanted to stop him. Forcing a laugh, she shook her head. “Don’t be stupid.”She smiled at Ben, and said, “Thanks. I’ve got this handled.”Ben didn’t return her smile, but he took a step back and looked at his watch. “This dance is over, and we close in fifteen minutes. Finish your business.”Much to her relief,
He hid his smile behind a sip of coffee. “I’ll have to work on her.” Thinking a moment, he added, “Maybe create an opportunity, too. Tomorrow night I’ll hang out after closing and drive her home.”“What if she says no?”“She won’t. I’ll tell her I need to speak with her about the investigation, which is true.”“So, you think her self-appointed protector will watch you two leave together and the sight will push him over the edge?”“Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. But somebody always walks the girls to their cars, so at least one person from Phoenix will see us leave together. According to Valentine, Annabelle doesn’t hook up with customers, so word of her breaking tradition should spread pretty quickly. If the killer doesn’t see us tomorrow night, possibly he’ll hear something through the grapevine. That alone might be enough to compel this guy to make a move on me. Especially if I can convince Annabelle to come in to work on Saturday and tell everyone I turned out to be a prick. Then,
Straight to hell, Tommy thought, where he’d been since last Friday night when he’d arrived at the scene of a homicide and found himself drowning in the deepest blue eyes he’d ever seen.Those same eyes faced him now, holding a fascinating mixture of anger, desire, and fear. Anger and desire he could handle, give back in spades, but the fear clutched at him. Was she afraid of a killer at large? Afraid someone might discover whatever secret she guarded? Or was she afraid of him?Instead of asking, he gave her directions to his place, and then sat back and let the silence balloon while she drove. Sure, it was a psych 101 tactic, but often effective. People—women particularly—grew uncomfortable with prolonged silence. Discomfort compelled them to fill the void with conversation, and once the words started flowing, revealing monologues often followed.Not Annabelle. He stared at her profile as the minutes ticked away. Apparently, it would take more than silence to crack her tough little sh
Oh boy, did she. Caution had officially fled the building, leaving reckless desire in charge. “Yes. Absolutely yes. But first…” Her shaking fingers scrambled over the buttons of his shirt. The feel of his muscular chest frayed her patience and in the end, she simply tore the shirt open. His startled, aroused growl nearly drowned out the clatter of buttons on polished hardwood.She shoved the shirt down his shoulders, drinking in the sight of his broad chest, striated abs, and firm, flat stomach. “You’ve seen me naked, or nearly naked, plenty of times, but I never get to see you. I never get to touch your skin.” Determined to rectify the inequity, she indulged herself now, running her hands over his warm, hard body. It wasn’t enough. Somehow he sensed this, because he leaned in, knelt on the bed, and took her lips. Kissing him back, she leaned in, too, until her tight, aching nipples brushed his chest. Their moans mingled in the quiet room.“You feel so good,” she whispered.He choked