“My motto is Be Prepared,” Stone told her. “I was a goddamned Boy Scout when Trula dragged me to Illinois. She and Manoletti thought it would be good for my character.”
Ellie tilted her head to one side, the wrinkles on her face sliding toward the floor. She looked so ridiculous, Jake had to chuckle.
“Yeah, I know that at first glance it looks like not much good came of it. But some of the damned stuff must have rubbed off on me or I’d never have survived the past fourteen days.”
The days since the Rizzos’ picnic; since something in Deirdre had changed. Jake’s heart skipped a beat as he pictured the new softness in her eyes when she looked at him, the new tenderness when she touched him, the sweetness in her kisses. What had changed? She hadn’t said. He’d been too cautious to ask. Maybe she wasn’t even aware of how different she was acting.
Deirdre, his strong, defiant, in-your-face Deirdre…letting her guard down little by little, until tonight…
“It doesn’t mean a damned thing,” Jake told Ellie. “At least not necessarily…” The hell it doesn’t, the horny bastard inside Jake snapped.
Deirdre had surprised him, no question, when she’d called to tell him that Emma was spending the night with her best friend. He’d tried so hard to sound casual, while his imagination went into overdrive. “Great, yeah, that’s great. Terrific,” he’d said. “She could use a good time.…”
And so the hell could we…let me show you one.…
Deirdre had hesitated, then her voice had grown suddenly shy. “I thought maybe we could have our dancing lesson over at your house. Finn and Cade got back, and they said they could handle things at March Winds tonight.”
He’d wanted to ask Deirdre why they’d volunteered. Had she asked them? But he didn’t want to spook her. “Great. My house. What time?”
“The usual?”
It made him feel so damned good. He and Deirdre had a usual time. And after weeks of dating, she was coming to his house. Where they could be alone.
Jake looked around the bungalow he’d fallen in love with the first moment he’d seen it. The clean lines, the comfort, the simple beauty spoke to him when life as a cop had seemed so damned complex. But tonight, as he prowled the house he’d perfected for ten long years, he didn’t see the wood trim richly glowing, or the classic lines of his Stickley-style furniture, he didn’t see the plush rugs or glassed-in bookcases or the tiles on the fireplace some artisan had made by hand.
He saw tiny flaws he’d never noticed before, imagined imperfections as he tried to see the place through Deirdre’s eyes. Oh, she’d seen his front office that first day, but during the past weeks of their relationship, they’d always met at March Winds. With Finn gone to Montana, Deirdre was shouldering all of the responsibilities at the thriving bed and breakfast, and after Emma’s foray up to Sullivan’s Point, Deirdre was determined to be home whenever her daughter’s boyfriend came around.
There was simple logic to Deirdre’s insistence that he pick her up for their dates at the old Civil War–era mansion, Jake had to admit. But in spite of all that, it hadn’t taken him long to see beneath that whole smoke screen to get a glimpse at the fear that lay beneath.
Deirdre was scared. Pure and simple. Avoiding the chance that they might be alone with a bed nearby. She didn’t want to risk trying to make love with him again, risk failing.
He’d done what he could to build her confidence. Touching her any chance he got, teasing her, playing at love the way he’d seen Tank and Lucy do for so long. He’d talked and listened and let her know she was beautiful, made her laugh and pulled her chain just to get her fired up so he could kiss her.
And their dancing…from the moment he’d taken her in his arms she’d been pure sin. Just moving with her across a floor was sexier than anything he’d ever done before.
The music was in her blood and bone, under her breasts where her heart beat, in her slender legs where they touched his. He tangoed with her, played salsa music, teaching her steps so sensual it left his good intentions hanging by a thread. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t push her, he’d let her tell him when she was ready to take their relationship to the next level. He would just build the fire, win her trust, let her find the passionate woman he knew was in there hiding.
He’d been taking so many cold showers Ellie May was starting to question his sanity, and the hit he’d taken in the crotch at the Rizzos’ was seeming like no big deal since he was in a constant state of arousal.
Until just the sound of her voice on the phone, just the scent of her on the sweater she’d forgotten in his car, just the thought of her before he fell asleep alone in his great big bed left him hard and aching and wanting far more than she was ready to give him.
He’d wondered if frustration was ever fatal. If she lay awake at night remembering where he’d touched her.
But all his waiting and wondering might be over tonight. A sudden sadness dogged Jake. Sex wasn’t love, and love took absolute honesty about things that mattered. Telling Jessica about the choice he’d made eight years ago had left him wary, a part of him forever cut off in secret and shadow.
If he’d be the only one in danger, he’d tell Deirdre the truth in a minute. But there was so much more to it than him. The danger to Tank’s career, the Rizzo family’s security. The insurance that they’d need if, God forbid, Lucy’s cancer came out of remission. Not to mention Tank’s pride. Jake knew how much it cost Tank every day to live with the sacrifice Jake had made. Knew if the survival of Tank’s family hadn’t depended on silence, Tank would never have been able to bear the burden Jake’s actions had left on his friend’s sense of honor.
Sure, it was a done deal now. They’d all made their peace with it as best they could. Not as if they had any real choice. But to expose Tank that way, even to a woman Jake loved…It would be the final betrayal. One step Jake could never make.
The doorbell rang, startling Jake from his reverie. He jumped as Ellie May roused herself enough to bay at the door.
“I know, I know. She’s here.” Jake’s heart hammered under his ribs. “It’s no big deal.”
Yeah, Ellie May seemed to say. And a Chihuahua is a hell of a watch dog.
Jake crossed to the door, wiping his palms on his black slacks. Damned if his palms weren’t sweating. Sucking in a steadying breath, he opened the door.
The porch light drenched Deirdre in a golden glow from her crown of dark hair to her toes. She wore a flame-red silk tunic and matching pants that flowed in liquid sensuality down her legs. Silver hoops dangled from her earlobes, and her lips glistened red.
Have mercy, Stone thought, trying to remember how to breathe.
“You said I needed to wear something that I could move in so you could teach me that lift and stuff…you remember? The one where you almost ripped out the seat of my jeans?”
“I remember.” He remembered every brush of her body against his, hard against soft, man against woman, where touch conveyed more than words ever could.
“You meant a dress, but I don’t own one. I just…always feel silly in them.”
Maybe, Stone thought, but you’d look like the hottest dream I ever had.
“What you’re wearing is great. So, uh, come on in.” He stood aside, gestured toward his living room.
She entered, her gaze traveling slowly over everything he’d worked so hard to make home. “This place is really amazing. So…I don’t know. It’s easy to breathe in here. Sometimes all that Victorian clutter makes me feel claustrophobic.”
Stone smiled. “It doesn’t really seem your style.”
“It’s right for the house, for the business. I just have to deal.” She hunkered down, stroking Ellie’s velvety ears. “Hey, wrinkle puss.”
Ellie gave a moan as if saying, He’s been driving me crazy. For God’s sake, put him out of his misery, will you?
Stone crossed to the turntable he still kept in tip-top shape, grabbed one of the vinyl records he’d set out for the night
’s lesson. “I thought we’d start with—”
“Jake,” she cut in.
He looked at her, saw tension in her, like a string about to snap. “Yeah?”
Color flooded into her cheeks, until she almost matched her shirt. “I didn’t come over here to dance.”
Stone’s fingers clenched on the record so hard it should have cracked, his mouth suddenly dry.
Deirdre straightened, hugged her arms tight around her middle. “Staring at me like that isn’t going to make this any easier.”
Jake put down the record and fumbled with the CD player instead. The music was an easy call. He’d been listening to it nonstop since the first time he’d kissed her. “So you’re, uh, wanting to…”
Her eyes turned pleading. “Don’t make me say it.”
“No.” Jake hit the play button. Jazz poured into the room like dark chocolate, powerful, sensual, a melding of pain and strength, power and survival, hope…
He closed the space between them, drew her into his arms. “You don’t have to say anything. Just feel.”
“Stone, I’m scared out of my wits, here. Maybe you’ve got some Scotch to take the edge off?”
“No way, baby. I want every cell in your body awake when I take you. I want you to remember every touch, every time I taste you. How about instead of a drink we just dance a little, see if that relaxes you?”
“Easy for you to say.”
“I’ve been a nervous wreck. Just ask Ellie May. I even changed the sheets just in case…Otherwise, I figured I’d take another cold shower. You’ve been saving my water heater a lot of mileage.”
She laughed. It was a little strained, Stone gauged, but a laugh was good. She hadn’t figured it out yet, but sex was supposed to be fun.
“Have I mentioned you take my breath away tonight?”
Her dark hair tousled about her catlike face, all elegant bones and big, wary eyes and attitude. Her lips gleamed red under a thin coat of gloss, blusher highlighting her cheekbones. The red silk skimmed her body like his hands would soon, memorizing Deirdre by touch.
“Stone, you are so full of it.” The sparkle came back into her eyes. “You just want to get me in bed.”
“Oh, yeah. There’s nothing in the world I want more.” Except to keep you there forever. To tell you I love you. Beg you to be my wife. Marry me…
Way to kill the mood, Stone. It would scare the lady to death.
Dance. He could almost hear Trula’s voice in his head.
Deirdre cocked her head, listening. “Who is this?” she said, pointing toward the speakers.
“Diana Krall. Ever since I’ve known you sing, I can’t seem to listen to anything else. She reminds me of you.”
“I never sang any jazz.”
“I’d think you’d be a natural. It sounds like you.”
“My mom loved it, so there was no way I was going to touch the stuff. But it’s beautiful. It sounds like…sex. At least the way I think sex should be with someone you…care about.”
Go ahead. Say it. I love you and you love me. Do you love me?
The woman trusted him enough to go to bed with him after everything she’d been through, he told himself. Isn’t that enough?
Jake slid his hand around to the small of her back, cupped the fingers of his other hand around hers. He drew her toward him until their hips brushed and he could feel her heat.
The track changed and he felt for the rhythm, a pulse in the music matching the beat of his heart. He bent her backward over his arm, her slender neck arched back. He could see a flutter in the hollow of her throat. Her hips pressed tight against his growing arousal as he swept her in a half circle to one side, then brought her face back up to inches away from his, leaving her breathless.
Magic…they moved across the hardwood floor, Stone instinctively leading her around furniture, angling bodies so the tips of her nipples abraded the front of his royal blue dress shirt. He felt her stiffen, stumble. He drew her so close he could breathe words in her ear.
“Trula was right. She always told me someday I’d find a woman who would make all those dance lessons worth it. If those jocks who used to laugh at me saw me now, they’d be so damned jealous.”
“Tell ’em to get in line, Stone. I could step on their toes, too.”
“You wouldn’t make one misstep if you’d just trust yourself.You feel the music just like I do. Your body knows what to do when it’s this close to mine. Look at me, Dee. Right here. Into my eyes.”
She swallowed hard, and raised her gaze from his chest up past his chin, his lips, to where he knew his eyes were hot for her.
A sizzle of awareness shot through his palms, his arousal rock hard where it met her softness. She caught her lip between her teeth, the sight so delectable Stone could barely keep himself from kissing her. She wasn’t ready. Not yet. But she would be.
He whirled her into the sensual combinations he’d taught her, his muscular thigh slipping between hers, her inner thigh ghosting across his, the contact electric. He bent her back over his arm again, this time flattening his other hand on her ribs, sliding his spread fingers up, between her breasts, along her throat, then back into her hair.
She was melting now. He could feel her resistance softening, opening, urging him on.
When he swept her up again, he dragged her full length against him, his mouth fastening on hers.
She moaned, opened her lips, all vulnerability and wanting. Stone scooped her up in his arms, carried her to his bedroom. Laid her down on his big bed. Red silk against teal-green bedspread.
His hands went to the buttons on her tunic, the slippery fabric sliding down her sides as he bared her breasts.
Her bra, black lace, let glimpses of soft, peachy skin peep through, the disks of her aureoles darker, even more enticing through the openwork pattern. Stone knew damned well Deirdre was a white cotton kind of girl, as simple and straightforward as she was. This black lace—she’d worn it for him. He was awed by her courage, humbled by her trust, half out of his mind with wanting her.
He groaned, his long fingers hooking the fastening between Deirdre’s breasts. It popped open, and Jake buried his face in the cleft where it had been. He kissed her, a hot, slow, wet kiss on velvety skin, then edged the bra cup aside with his mouth and nose, drinking in the spicy woman scent of her breast.
His hand cupped the other breast, bared it, his thumb teasing the nipple until it pebbled against his thumb. His mouth fastened, hungry and hot on her other nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth, drinking her in.
He slid his hand down her belly to the waistband of her pants. Bless whoever invented elastic. He only had to pause a heartbeat to insinuate his fingers under the band and then…heaven. He was underneath her panties. Skin impossibly soft, silky down. His fingers dipped lower into all that wet heat.
Her body was ready for him…if he could only keep her from thinking of that other time…that other man.
Stone slid the pants off her. She looked like an exotic flower, the red tunic, spread around her like petals, her pale, slender body its stem.
Stone unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt, then whipped it over his head. He didn’t have time to undo buttons all the way. He didn’t want to give her too much time to think.
He undid his pants, shucked off shoes, socks and boxers, damned glad to be naked. She sat up, letting the sleeves of the tunic slide down her arms, the bra straps following. Light poured over her naked body.
Cover her up, you damned fool, Stone thought. Drape yourself over her so she doesn’t get shy. But damned if he could make himself do it. She was fire and passion and strength and light and every dream Stone had ever had, and he wanted to burn the image of her into his mind, so he could keep it forever.
Even if you can’t keep her.
The thought knifed him in the chest. He tried to shove it away, but the simple truth stayed with him.
Deirdre had made it clear that once the case was over they were finished. She didn?
??t want anything permanent. Hell, it was a miracle she wanted to have sex with him. Why couldn’t he just be satisfied with that?
Because he wanted the whole ball of wax. His ring on her finger. His baby growing inside her. His hands on her every night for the rest of his life.
Hey, Dee, funny thing. You know that great guy you met the other day? I took the fall for Tank eight years ago, so I’d be the one thrown off the force….
Tank would see that she knew. It would be in her eyes. The shame of it. The censure. And Stone—she’d make him some kind of a goddamned hero. When the truth was he just hadn’t known what else to do.
“Jake?” Her tremulous voice brought him back to his bedroom, her naked body, this chance to get it right. “You can touch me now.”
His hands shook just a little as he lowered himself down onto his bed beside her, angled his body over her side. His shaft against the velvety hot hollow of her hip. He couldn’t keep from arching it against her, a groan tearing from his lips.
“I want to do this right, Dee. Everything perfect for you.”
“Kiss me. I’m starting to get…cold.”
Jake found her sweet, hot mouth with his, kissed the fear out of her, kissed her warm. His hand played across her rib cage, her stomach, her breast, taking her all in. He’d been thinking out his strategy for weeks, how he’d bring her to the point of no return, every trick or talent or fantasy he could use to break down that last wall inside her.
But the instant he felt her small hand search its way down his body, timidly close around his hardness, his big plans were blown to hell. She was so damned brave, was all he could think, when he imagined how she’d been hurt by some other man. He felt murderous fury, felt crushing responsibility and gratitude so deep he almost drowned in it.
He held his breath, let her explore him until he had to grit his teeth and gently draw her hand away.
Deirdre met his eyes, worried. “Wasn’t I…doing that right?”
“Have mercy.” Stone gave a shaky laugh. “You were doing it too right, honey. Tonight’s about you, and I’m not a saint. I’m the bad cop, remember?”
A strange expression came into her eyes, tenderness, and…something a little like love. She cupped her hand against his cheek, kissed along the line of his jaw. “I know all about you, Jacob Stone,” she murmured, setting his skin on fire. “I like it that you’re bad. I think it’s sexy.”