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Cupid's Arrow
by Debbie Wallace
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Romance/Humor
Copyright ©2006 by WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
CUPID'S ARROW
by
Debbie Wallace
WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
www.whiskeycreekpress.com
Published by
WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
Whiskey Creek Press
PO Box 51052
Casper, WY 82605-1052
www.whiskeycreekpress.com
Copyright ©
2006 by Debbie Wallace
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
ISBN 1-59374-509-5
Credits
Cover Artist: Nora Baxter
Editor: Gina Schneider
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
To my husband Earl who gave me the confidence that I could do it, and to my daughter Michelle and niece Alisha who encouraged me to pursue my dreams.
Chapter 1
Detective Mike Denton turned down the road to 113 Madison Drive with a feeling in his gut that warned him his life was about to change. It wasn't anything he could put his finger on; he just knew. And he hadn't made up his mind yet if it was a good feeling or not. He drove down the quiet street slowly, pulling to the curb when he spotted the house. It was a newer home with a double car garage revealing a small, silver sports car inside, the name of which eluded him. A for sale sign with the bold letters SOLD written across it was standing on the immaculate front lawn.
He contemplated waiting in his squad car for the paramedics to arrive, knowing what was probably waiting for him inside. For the first time he was sorry he'd put in for the overtime; he was a homicide detective. But these days the department was running short of officers and until the new man hired the week before was up to speed, volunteers had been called on to take extra shifts. If he hadn't just returned from a two-week vacation with Melissa he probably would have passed. But let no one in the department throw it in his face later that he wasn't a team player when the need arose.
The feeling in his stomach intensified and Mike began to wonder that maybe it was the result of the high cholesterol breakfast he'd gobbled down an hour before. Somehow he doubted that was the case; he'd eaten the same breakfast many times without any complications. Taking a deep breath, he decided he'd better go inside. From where he sat he could see the front door was already open.
He slipped out from behind the wheel and strode unhurriedly to the screen door. Just as he was about to ring the doorbell a noise from inside made him hesitate. He listened, trying to determine what it could be. Was the TV on? Maybe it was the radio. He couldn't tell. He punched the doorbell and called out at the same time, “Hello, anyone there?"
Someone should be home. The call had come from somebody inside the house less then half an hour ago. However, Mike's vast experience over the years prepared him for anything. It wasn't uncommon for someone to phone in a death and then leave the scene for whatever reason, especially if it involved a loved one. There were no set rules to what kind of reactions to expect.
There was no response. Next time he rapped his knuckles against the metal doorframe, which somehow seemed louder than the doorbell. “Hello!” he hollered, testing the doorknob and finding it unlocked. “Is anyone home?” Against his better judgment he opened the screen door. Walking cautiously inside, he let his eyes scan the area as he made his way through the front foyer. Self-preservation and too many times of walking in on a bad situation prompted him to keep his hand on the butt of his revolver.
As he stepped through the large archway that led to the living room, his eyes were automatically drawn to the woman standing quietly by the sliding glass door. Her arms were folded and it was obvious she was deep in thought and staring at something outside, which explained why she hadn't heard him calling out. He moved further into the room, hoping he didn't frighten her. She was small, not more than five feet five he determined, dressed in what he assumed were satin pajamas. His lips twitched with humor when he realized they were decorated with little yellow smiley faces.
Her russet hair was tumbling in disarray about her slender shoulders. From what Mike could see, her complexion was like a sun ripened peach, smooth and healthy looking, almost glowing in the early morning light shining through the glass. It was hard to tell from her profile but he gauged her age to be somewhere around thirty.
“Ma'am?” he called out softly, his gaze automatically searching the room for the body.
He could finally hear the sirens in the distance, and he silently thanked God. The paramedics could take over once they arrived. Soothing distraught women wasn't one of his strong points. It made him uncomfortable as hell, especially when they expected a strong shoulder to cry on while being comforted. He didn't have that problem when he responded to a homicide. Usually no one stuck around to claim the body.
“Ma'am?” The woman jumped slightly and finally swung his way, her eyes rounding with surprise and mild fear before taking in his uniform. He sensed her calm at once, watching her body relax back against the glass door as she reached up to wipe the glistening tear tracks lining her cheeks. She was attractive, Mike couldn't help but notice, and looking at him with eyes that reminded him of a wounded doe. Again he scanned the area for the body. Pretty or not, he had a job to do.
“I'm Mike Denton with the Stratton Police Department, ma'am. Where's the body?” His tone was all business.
She cleared her throat before responding in a velvet voice, husky with drained emotion, “Over there.” She pointed. “I'm surprised they sent a police officer though..."
Mike only half-listened, intent on locating it. He went in the direction she indicated, halting in stunned disbelief in the doorway. There was a body all right, on the floor of what appeared to be an office. The woman had attempted to cover it up with a throw of some kind. All he could do was stand there and stare at the long, brown legs sticking out from beneath it.
There were four of them.
“I don't believe this...” he mumbled beneath his breath, finally bending to lift a corner of the blanket and frowning at what met his eyes. A Great Dane if he knew his dogs. Seeing no apparent wounds or trauma to the body, he had a gut feeling that the dog had probably died of old age.
This was why she'd called the police? He stood with growing irritation, trying to decipher how this could have happened. He had better things to do than waste time responding to calls about dead animals. When he rejoined her in the living room, what little anger that had surfaced quickly evaporated. There had to be a logical explanation and experience had taught him to get the story before jumping to conclusions. The look on her face told him she was devastated over the loss of her dog. She looked soft and vulnerable and in need of comfort. The sudden urge to take her into his arms came from nowhere, catching him by surprise.
“Ma'am, you don't call 911 over the death of an animal,” he began, trying to keep his voice kind. The sirens were closer now and Mike guessed he had about five minutes before they would be at the front door.
“I didn't,” she rushed out, then quickly corrected herself, “I mean, technically I did but only because I didn't know who else to call. Cupid's Arrow..."
Mike frowned, almost afraid to ask, “Cupid's Arrow?"
“The dog,” she explained. “I was taking care of him for a neighbor. When I woke this morning I found him like this. He was very old. I don't know how I'm going to tell the Rentschlers; this is going to destroy them. They're very devoted to Cupid's Arrow; you see it's because of him they met in the first place. He's part of the fam..."
Her pretty lips were moving a hundred miles a minute and Mike listened to her rambling for a moment before shaking his head and trying to make sense of why he was wasting his time. “You still dialed 911,” he reminded her, trying to ignore the way her pajamas fit against her shapely form, outlining her generous curves. Or how the early morning sun shining through the window brought out the highlights of red fire in her auburn hair.
“I explained I didn't know whom to call,” she reminded him in return, smiling slightly. “I told the 911 operator what the situation was. I thought she understood me."
Damn, she had dimples. In addition, those chocolate eyes of hers were moving over him in a way that made him think of melting ice cream on a hot summer day. Soft, smooth and creamy, making him uncomfortably warm. He doubted she was even aware of her appeal. He was silent for a moment, trying to get his temperature back under control, wondering who the dispatch operator was that morning. It would be easy enough to trace. If her story didn't pan out he could always return later and give her a citation. That would certainly give him an excuse to see her again. He withdrew his pad and pen, reminding himself he wasn't in the market for female companionship these days.
“You're not going to give me a ticket, are you?” she gasped in a disbelieving tone.
Mike's eyes shot back up to hers, taking in the heightened color on her cheeks and the way she was gnawing on the inside of her lip. Damn, that bottom lip was about the sexiest thing he'd seen in a long time. “Not at this time, ma'am. I just want to jot down a few notes. But you can be sure I'll be back if I find out you're not telling me the truth.” Hearing the sudden commotion at the door, he realized the paramedics had arrived. “Excuse me for a moment."
It didn't take him long to explain the situation to them and by the time he returned to the living room the woman was gone. He swung around when a noise coming from the kitchen drew his attention. She was standing on the other side of the counter that separated the two rooms, offering him a shy smile. “Would you like a cup of coffee, Mr. Denton?"
She might as well have asked him if he wanted to go to bed. The timbre of her smoky voice raked mercilessly over every one of Mike's dormant senses, igniting a fire of need in his blood so fast that it shocked him. “It's...” He hesitated from saying detective since he was in a police uniform, and he wasn't in the mood for explanations. “No, thank you, ma'am."
When she ran her slender fingers through her wild hair, he literally caught his breath, his stomach clenching into a tight ball. What the hell was the matter with him? He made a mental note not to order the sausage at Smoky Joe's anymore, as he watched her move gracefully about the kitchen for a moment before getting back to the task at hand. After writing down a few more notes, he flipped the pad closed and slid it into his pocket.
“My name's Emma Stuart,” she said unnecessarily, telling Mike what he already knew. “What about Cupid's Arrow?” she continued when he glanced up again. “I can't move him by myself."
“I'll call animal control and have them come out,” he offered, surprised to find he was reluctant to leave. It was on the tip of his tongue to accept her earlier offer of coffee. It smelled a heck of a lot better than the black tar Smoky Joe's served up. Moreover, she was a hell of a lot more appealing than the missing front tooth, straggly hair waitress Joe had serving for him behind the counter.
“Thank you,” she said with obvious relief. “I'm sorry for all the confusion.” She sounded sincere.
“No problem,” he found himself saying. “I'll be in touch if—"
“I know,” she interrupted with a radiant smile, catching Mike off guard again. “If I haven't been telling you the truth."
Her smile was like the warmth of the sun on a cold winter day. The first breath of fresh air after emerging from a smoke filled bar. The water that quenched a dying man's thirst. For a long moment Mike was mesmerized; his eyes fastened on her soft mouth as if he'd never seen a smile before. He finally raised his gaze to hers once more, somersaulting headfirst into those dark mysterious pools. Swallowing with difficulty, he made up his mind then and there. He was going back to Smoky Joe's and demanding his money back!
No sooner had Officer Handsome left than the phone began to ring, nearly drawing a cry of fright from Emma. She reached for it, watching him with interest from her kitchen window as he sauntered to his cruiser in a sexy gait that made her mouth water. She wasn't in the market for a man, but she couldn't help admire his physique. After all, she wasn't dead. Plus a man in uniform had always held a certain appeal.
Her eyes measured the way his broad shoulders filled out his navy police uniform before running down the straight line of his backside, finally settling on the stretch of material over his taut buttocks. Goodness, he had a nice body. To her mortification he glanced back just as he was getting into his cruiser, catching her ogling him! She quickly stepped back, but not before she saw the white of his crooked grin.
“Hello?” she breathed into the receiver, closing the blinds and ignoring the sudden heat spreading over her body.
“Mom, it's me. Did someone pick up Cupid's Arrow yet?"
Emma smiled at the concern in Amanda's tone. “They're on their way,” she replied, deciding not to tell her about the mix up. They'd been talking on the phone earlier when Emma had switched to the portable so she could go in search of the too quiet dog.
“Do you want me to come over?"
“Of course not.” She smiled, wondering if Amanda knew how motherly she sounded all of a sudden. Emma could always tell when she had something on her mind. She'd been about to ask her a question earlier when finding Cupid's Arrow had cut their conversation short.
There was a significant pause before Amanda finally said, “So, what about what we were talking about earlier?"
What were they talking about? Several thoughts came to mind: her upcoming move, shopping, working out. She vaguely remembered Amanda mentioning something right about the time she'd discovered Cupid's Arrow. “You'll have to refresh my memory."
Amanda expelled a heavy sigh. “The policemen's picnic this Saturday? I asked you if you wanted to go this year."
Oh, that. Emma rolled her eyes because it wasn't the first time Amanda had asked her. In fact it seemed the topic came up every time they talked. It occurred to her that Amanda was paying way too much attention to her lack of social life lately, causing her to wonder if she had ulterior motives behind her invitation. It wouldn't be the first time she'd tried her matchmaking skills on her.
“Come on, Mom, you'll have a good time. You need to get out more, you're not an old maid,” she pleaded, using a tone especially designed for getting her own way as it had many times in the past. “It's been two years,” she reminded Emma, not needing to say more.
Emma knew Amanda was trying to be kind so didn't take offense at her aggressive tone or the wise crack about her age. They were sisters actually, yet with the thirteen-year age difference and without their mother around while growing up, Amanda had started calling her “Mom” at an early age and it had just stuck.
“I don't know,” Emma hedged, not completely convinced she wanted to be around a park full of men high on power and attitude. She'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.
“I don't want to go alone."
“Troy will be there,” she pointed out, thinking about Amanda's boyfriend. These days they hardly went anywhere without each other.
Misunderstanding her reluctance, Amanda offered, a little too eagerly, “Well, what if I hook you up with..."
Emma eyes grew round; she wasn't ready to be hooked up with anyone. Yet that didn't stop the vision of a sexy policeman's face from flashing before her eyes. Would he be there? Stratton was a small town yet they'd never run into each other before. However, in the next instant she shook her head with disgust. “Forget it,” she broke in, panic over the thought making her heart miss a beat. “If you're planning on playing match maker then I'm definitely not going.” Leaning her hip against the kitchen counter, she looked at the various size boxes running along the counter top while thinking about all the work she still had to do. “I'm not finished packing and the movers..."
“I was joking and you have plenty of time for that. I'll come over and help you. Will you go or not?"
Emma smiled at the impatience and persistence in Amanda's tone. These days she had to remind herself that her little sister was all grown up and living on her own. Well, when she wasn't staying at Troy's, which was more often than not lately. She didn't understand why they just didn't move in together and make it official.
“Give me the details.” It wasn't as if Amanda was asking her to take a ride over Niagara Falls or something. Emma didn't have the heart to turn her down, or the energy to think up an excuse that would justify her not going. Besides, it was time she started getting out and doing things again.
“Great! You won't be sorry,” she made the mistake of replying enthusiastically.
Emma's brows rose with mild concern. “Well I hope not; this is just a picnic, isn't it?” she cut in. “Or did you miss my little comment about not setting me up?"
“That's not what I meant,” Amanda rushed out. “You're so suspicious,” she went on with an obvious smile in her tone. “The policemen's picnic is always a lot of fun. The whole town turns out for it. There will be a ball game and tons of good food..."
Emma's mouth turned down, thinking about her widening waistline. She wasn't fat, but lately she'd put on a few extra pounds and the mention of tons of good food wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear. Maybe if she worked doubly hard at the gym the next couple of days she could afford to indulge a little on the weekend.
In the end she found herself agreeing to meet Amanda on Saturday, at ten, at the park behind the police station. She thought about the last time she'd gone to a picnic, realizing at least twelve years had passed. That is if joining Amanda at school for lunch one day and eating on the playground qualified as a picnic.
* * * *
By the time Saturday arrived, Emma was almost looking forward to it. However, when it came time to dress, she found herself in a real dilemma. Her picnic attire options were practically non-existent.
Amanda had often accused her of dressing older than her age. After standing in her walk-in closet for twenty minutes she was inclined to finally agree with her. She scanned the row of dresses and skirts. For the first time it occurred to her she'd been dressing to please Richard all those years. How could she not have realized it before now? Memories flashed through her mind as early as when they'd been dating. He'd always preferred her to dress conservatively and feminine.
Thinking about her ex caused Emma to pause from what she was doing for a moment. Two years had gone by since their amicable divorce. She wondered how long it would take to wipe away the memory of being with the same man for ten years. At least thinking about him and his betrayal with another woman wasn't as painful anymore. She actually hoped he was happy finally, because she certainly hadn't been able to make him happy. They'd sold their restaurant business and most of their joint holdings, splitting everything right down the middle. Once the divorce was final Richard hadn't wasted any time in marrying his little waitress, who was twelve years his senior, and leaving town. The last she heard they were living in the sunshine state.
The house was the last asset between them and Emma had been allowed to live in it until it was sold. However, that all changed once she'd signed the papers two days ago. Now there was nothing left to prove they'd even been married. She hadn't kept so much as a single photo of just the two of them together. She gave herself a little shake, annoyed for letting Richard monopolize her thoughts again. He was history. She was looking forward to moving into her new town house down at the lake.
Reaching for an old pair of jeans hanging at the back of the closet, Emma wondered why she'd kept them. A long time had gone by since she'd had a reason to wear them, recalling she'd only purchased them to go on a weekend camping trip with Amanda and her class one year. Ten years and at least ten pounds ago ... Doubts surfaced that she'd be able to get into them as she yanked them off the hanger. By the time she managed to work them over her hips and zip them up, she was gasping as if just running a mile on the treadmill.
She stepped out of the closet, facing the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. Her mouth turned down at the picture she presented in skintight jeans and lacy bra. Maybe an over-sized shirt would help complete the look she was going for. A quick glance at the clock on the dresser revealed it was nine-thirty and she was running out of time. Well, who was she hoping to impress anyway? She quickly slipped the jeans back off and took a pair of scissors to them, cutting them off at mid thigh before grabbing the ends of her shirt and tying them together at her waist. Sighing at her reflection, she slipped into a pair of sneakers, grabbed her purse and keys and headed for the door.
Amanda wasn't going to recognize her.
Chapter 2
The Stratton Police Department was a small building located on the outskirts of town. It took Emma almost five minutes to locate a legal parking spot for her little car. The last thing she wanted to do was park illegally at a police station of all places. Though it appeared some exceptions had been made, she couldn't bring herself to park in any of the no parking zones. Recognizing Amanda's black Toyota, she squeezed into the tight spot between it and Troy's red pickup.
She could hear the picnickers long before she saw them. She followed the noise by walking around the station house and not cutting through it as she noticed several others doing. Her eyes widened with surprise. Amanda hadn't been exaggerating when she said the whole town would most likely turn out. Stratton wasn't all the big, twenty-two hundred according to the last census taken, and it appeared as if a third of them were there.
Smoke was turning the air blue as several grills had been brought in and were cranked up full blast, as was a huge smoker several men were tending, beers in hand, laughing at some joke, she was sure. Rows of picnic tables were hidden beneath bright plastic tablecloths, covered with platters of food and beverages. Huge coolers of ice had been set up on the ground next to the drinks.
The park was little bigger than a few football fields, yet a corner off in the back had been set aside for baseball. Right now there was a game going on and Emma headed in that direction, knowing that's where she'd find Amanda. She reached the fence that protected bystanders from flying balls within minutes, wondering if the small speck she saw out in left field was Amanda. She was certain she recognized the red and yellow Winnie the Pooh tee shirt her sister favored.
All at once the sun made an appearance from behind a cloud, reminding Emma she'd forgotten her sunglasses. Forced to shield her eyes with her hand, she was aware of a noise that ended her search for Amanda, bringing her attention to the pitcher's mound where she watched him pitch the ball. The batter hit the ball back toward the pitcher who caught it, before pivoting and throwing it to third base in one fluid motion. For a second she became absorbed with the game, and the split second reactions of the pitcher that promptly ended the inning.
Everyone in outfield began running toward the dugout nearest her. Yet, they were a blur of activity around her. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off the pitcher. Something about him struck a familiar cord in her, making her wonder if she'd seen him somewhere before. He was handsome. Not drop dead gorgeous but good looking in a rough, outdoorsy sort of way, definitely worth a second glance.
He was wearing gray athletic shorts and a faded blue tee shirt with writing on it Emma couldn't make out, stained darker in places that revealed he'd been playing hard. As he stepped off the pitcher's mound, he whipped off his baseball hat, running his hand through his overlong matted hair, which was black and glistening like a raven's wing, probably because of sweat. She stared at his powerful well-muscled torso as he moved toward her. Purely feminine interest compelled her to take in the thick, corded muscles of his tanned thighs and long athletic legs. The way his shorts clung to the front of his generous attributes, he definitely looked like a male in his prime.
Realizing what she was doing, she gazed up at his face, her cheeks turning hot with embarrassment. He was looking directly at her, a crooked grin on his masculine mouth that caused a little flutter in her belly. To make matters worse, Emma finally recognized him as Officer Handsome. She immediately averted her gaze, pretending she hadn't just been staring at him, or that he'd caught her. She quickly focused on Amanda who was running in and had yet to recognize her.
Amanda's gaze skimmed over her before she did a double take. “Mom?” Emma couldn't help be aware that several heads turned their way as her voice carried. “Where did you get those clothes?” She stared at Emma with something close to awe.
“Would you believe in my closet?” She grinned, following Amanda along the fence when she dropped her speed to join her. “I had to do a couple alterations for the occasion."
“You look...” She paused as if searching for the right word, examining Emma as though she were a new species. “Different, sexy."
Tugging at the shirt ends tied at her waist, Emma made a face. “I don't feel sexy. And I can't remember the last time I wore cut-offs. I think I cut them too short."
“If I know the men around here, not short enough. And look around you; there's a lot of women here wearing the same thing,” Amanda pointed out, slipping off her glove and hanging it alongside the others on top of the fence. “Did you just get here?"
Emma nodded. “How much longer before the game's over?"
“This is the last inning. Come around and sit in the dugout with us."
Meaning her, Troy, and all the other players. Emma wasn't sure she wanted to be stuck in a dugout full of men, especially with the one she'd been ogling a few minutes ago. Nevertheless, she found herself walking around to join Amanda anyway.
“Hi, Mom.” Surprise filled Troy's eyes as they gazed over the length of her. “Wow!” His eyebrows danced crazily. “Hubba hubba!"
Hubba hubba? Where in the world had he heard that expression? Emma spared him an affectionate glance, ignoring his over-zealous exclamation. He'd started calling her Mom about six months into his relationship with Amanda, which was now going on a year and a half. They'd talked about marriage but Amanda wanted to graduate from college first, which Emma wholly supported.
It wasn't that she disliked Troy. She adored him and he and Amanda seemed suited to each other, getting along unusually well. Still, Emma knew career goals sometimes had a way of getting in the way of a growing relationship. These days Troy was very committed to finishing out his probation period with the police department, putting that first on his list of priorities.
She ruffled his sweaty blonde hair, making a face and wiping her palm on her shorts. “Hi, son,” she teased with a smile on her face. “Are we winning today?"
His face suddenly looked years younger. “You bet!"
Smiling at his boyish enthusiasm, she glanced up, her gaze falling on a dark shadow standing at the back of the dugout. Officer Handsome, or rather, Mike Denton. Her breath locked in her throat, and she knew the heat flowing through her body had little to do with the temperature. In addition, she was sure her heart skipped a beat. No man should be that sexy in dirty, sweaty clothes. She glanced away before he caught her staring at him a second time.
* * * *
Mike was getting a drink from the water cooler located at the far end of the dugout when someone let out a low wolf whistle, drawing his immediate attention. He glanced up in time to see Emma making sure the buttons to her shirt were done up, a gesture he was sure she wasn't aware of doing. His gaze then shot to Pete, a fellow teammate and the culprit behind the whistle. There was no doubt it had been meant for Emma. He looked as happy as a kid running after an ice cream truck, his eyes dancing with harmless admiration as he nodded at Mike in her direction.
Pete liked women in general so his lusty expression wasn't to be taken seriously. Still, Mike didn't like the implication behind it. His gaze returned to Emma, moving over her lazily. He smiled when he saw her tug her shorts down at the back of her thighs. It was obvious she was uncomfortable as hell. She shouldn't be; she had a nice body and very nice legs. It was while his eyes were taking a leisurely stroll back up to her face that Troy's greeting finally registered, causing his eyes to narrow on her.
Mom?
His ears must be full of wax. That morning in her house he thought she'd looked around thirty but the way she was dressed now didn't make her look old enough to be the mom of anyone over five. Furthermore, Mike knew for a fact she wasn't Troy's mom, which meant she had to be Amanda's. He didn't believe it. If she was over thirty he'd eat his hat. He looked long and hard at her face, seeing nothing that proved she could be the mother of a twenty-year-old. Nevertheless, he couldn't deny the strong resemblance between her and Amanda.
Suddenly Emma looked directly at him and his mouth went dry, his pulse jumping erratically. The impact of those dark, smoky eyes went right through him, catching him unaware and sending his senses scrambling into overdrive. Making him think about that morning in her house a week ago, when they'd looked at him with such soft appeal. He could still remember the disappointment he'd felt when he got back to the station later that day to discover her story had checked out. He'd wanted an excuse to return to her house.
He took note of her high cheekbones and the generous fullness of a mouth that made him slightly hungry. A delicately sculptured nose and softly rounded chin he'd noticed the other day but hadn't taken the time to truly appreciate because of the situation, and lack of time. Scrubbed free of makeup, she had the fresh, healthy appearance of any Dove soap commercial model he'd seen on TV. Strands of soft curling hair escaped the confines of her loose ponytail, gently blowing against the slim column of her neck.
As his gaze roamed down her body again, a smile caused the corners of his mouth to curve upward. Mike estimated Emma was a good foot shorter than he was which he bet contributed to her soft, luscious curves. And being a man who appreciated the female form, he narrowed his eyes on the dark cleavage between her full breasts just as Pete moved to his side, snagging his attention.
“Hey, man, check it out.” He elbowed Mike in the ribs with enough force to make him grunt. “A real looker, huh?"
The very looker Mike had just been eyeing, only Pete had been so caught up in his own gawking he hadn't noticed.
“No ring on the finger either,” Pete pointed out, talking low. “What do you think, twenty-five, twenty-six?"
If what Mike had just overheard were true, the woman in question could be forty. This would make her almost old enough to be Pete's mom. That thought put a grin, if nothing else, on Mike's face. “I didn't know you were into older women."
He felt more than saw Pete's shrug. “She's not that much older,” he said without care. “Besides, it doesn't matter to me. Age can be a plus.” He gave Mike a lecherous grin that said more than words. “Experience and all that."
Usually Pete didn't bother him but for some odd reason his intense interest in Emma rubbed Mike the wrong way. “I just heard Troy call her ‘Mom',” he informed him, wanting to erase the smitten look from the other man's face.
Pete reared back with total surprise, his bushy eyebrows arched high. “You're kidding, man! Tell me you're just making that up. You just want her for yourself."
Mike narrowed his eyes on Pete for a moment, resisting the urge to clobber him. What the heck was the matter with him? He shook his head with disgust, deciding there was no getting through to him. Against his will, Mike's gaze returned to Emma.
She and Amanda were slowly making their way in his direction and Amanda was making a half-hearted attempt at introductions along the way. His eyes followed the responses of the players sitting on the bench as they walked by, watching their eyes roam appreciatively over Emma. There wasn't one man who didn't show an interest in the shapely hips and legs paraded before them.
Mike didn't know where it came from but he was hit with a jolt of jealousy so unexpected it sucked his breath away. He quickly turned back to the water cooler for another drink, hoping it would calm his suddenly taut nerves. The thought crossed his mind that he might as well take the damn thing and hold it over his head. He had no claim on Emma, so why was he feeling so possessive towards her?
God, he prayed he wasn't as transparent as he felt.
* * * *
As they moved slowly along, Emma did her best to keep a wooden smile on her face, acknowledging the introductions in some small way. She'd never remember all their names and after the eighth or ninth man, their dirty, sweat streaked faces became a familiar blur. She knew they were all police officers but some of them didn't look old enough to shave. Still, it didn't keep them from looking at her like she was an attractive woman. That knowledge sent a little thrill through her, even as it embarrassed her.
It was obvious they were heading to the end of the bench where there was room to sit, but Emma would have been content to remain out of the dugout altogether. Her only consolation was they weren't the only women there. As they neared the end of the dugout, she stared at Mike. He was getting a drink, but she was sure he'd been watching her earlier. She couldn't help be aware of him too, watching the muscles flex in his biceps as he brought the cup to his lips. Observing the way the corded muscles in his throat worked as he drank. Emma sensed he knew she was there, yet he didn't appear in any hurry to acknowledge her.
“Mike, I'd like you to meet Mom, I mean Emma,” Amanda said, pushing Emma in front of her as though she were a shy, reluctant child.
Surprise caused Emma's head to snap in Amanda's direction. There was definitely something different in her tone this time, a difference that caused alarm to shoot through her, which settled in her belly like a five-pound box of chocolates. The feeling became worse when she caught Amanda glancing at Troy, who was sitting there with his arms crossed, shaking his head with disgust. If Emma didn't know better, the happy go lucky Troy was almost angry.
With a resigned sigh, she glanced at Mike, beginning to wonder if he was going to ignore them, when he finally turned, with obvious reluctance, to acknowledge them. Crushing the empty cup in his hands, he tossed it into the nearby garbage can.
He acknowledged Amanda briefly before directing his slightly amused gaze on Emma. “This is chunky mama?” he asked in disbelief.
Emma's startled gaze flew to Amanda, who'd recently taken to calling her that when they were working out at the gym together. Apparently that wasn't the only time she used it in reference to her. “I see you know our family secret,” she breathed softly, her words meant for him only. She held her hand out. “But I won't hold it against you. Nice to meet you, Mike."
For a moment it looked as though he wasn't going to return her handshake. He stared at her outstretched hand as if it were a poisonous snake or something before finally grasping it. Emma couldn't ignore the sharp current of awareness traveling up her arm when they touched. She wondered if he felt it too.
“Nice to meet you,” he returned, his gaze running over Emma as though looking for the reasons of her unusual nickname. Impersonal as his inspection was, it still affected her strongly and to her dismay she felt her body responding.
“This isn't the first time,” Emma breathed in a silky voice, noticing his eyes were sexy even when they were sharp and assessing. She ignored the sudden, erratic jump of her pulse.
“No, ma'am,” he agreed in a deep voice, leaving it at that, for which Emma was thankful.
She was vaguely aware Amanda remained in the background, looking on with too much interest, but she was unable to break eye contact with Mike. Something about him excited her, pulling her in like a magnet. When it occurred to Emma they were still holding hands, she slowly slipped hers from his warm grasp. She was surprised to realize she was attracted to him. The bright blue of his eyes held her captivated, reminding her of the crystal blue waters off the Bahamas. She could eagerly dive in and discover the secrets behind those intriguing orbs.
The silence between them made Emma uncomfortable and she glanced out at the ball field. “That was a quick inning; it looks like your team is up,” she said softly, watching the other team returning to the dugout opposite them.
“Do you play baseball?” he asked matter-of-factly, a faint twinkle in the depths of his eyes.
“No, I'm too...” She caught herself before saying what was on the tip of her tongue. It occurred to her she was far from the oldest kid on the block. She gauged Mike's age to be somewhere around forty.
The grin that broke out on his face took her breath away, leaving her flustered inside.
“Too old?” he supplied, revealing he'd guessed where her thoughts were heading. Again his eyes swept Emma from head to toe and back again, this time with more boldness. “From where I stand, ma'am, I'd say you're on the right side of perfect."
Her jaw dropping with surprise, Emma's belly did a flip-flop. And Mike was gone before she could utter another word. It'd been so long since she'd received a compliment that she didn't know how to react. Amanda broke her concentration by stepping directly in front of her, blocking her view of Mike as he was leaving the dugout.
“You can close your mouth now,” Amanda teased in a tone that revealed she was as pleased as punch about something.
Emma slowly focused her eyes on her, struggling to pull herself together. “What?” She didn't know what Amanda was talking about. “Aren't you supposed to go out on the field with the others?"
“I'm going; are you going to wait for me here?"
Emma wondered if that was a good idea. She looked at the field, her gaze landing immediately on Mike. Suddenly she felt flushed, and she met Amanda's eyes with a feeling of guilt. She didn't like the smile on her sister's face; it suddenly reminded her of the look on Troy's face earlier. “What are you up to?” she asked suspiciously.
The pink tinge in Amanda's cheeks was a sure sign she was guilty as sin about something. “Nothing, I swear."
Emma stared at her for a long moment before saying, “Go play ball, trouble maker."
Chapter 3
Mike tried not to notice Emma on the sidelines but she was damn attractive and more than once he found his concentration on her and not the game. Every time he pitched, he looked at her, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the mid-morning sun to make her out in the shadowy confines of the dugout without being too obvious. He was still having a devil of a time believing she was the mother of a full-grown daughter.
Babs Neely stepped up to the batter's plate, taking a few practice swings with a bat almost as long as she was tall. An easy strike out, he thought, grinning. He couldn't recall a time she'd so much as made it to first base. The first two strikes went as predicted, but once again Mike found himself distracted when a movement from the dugout showed Emma going to the water cooler. Therefore, it didn't come as a complete surprise when he finally got nailed, and by Babs of all people.
He raised his glove but it wasn't in time to stop the ball, which was coming directly at him, from hitting him squarely in the eye. The force of it almost knocked him out and for a minute Mike literally saw stars. He swayed on his feet, shaking his head to clear it, vaguely aware the ball game had stopped and everyone was running toward him.
“I'm sorry, Mike!” Babs was the first one to reach him.
“Mike, man, you all right?” Pete asked with concern, reaching him after Babs.
“You took a hard hit in the eye, buddy,” a second player commented.
“You better go sit down and put some ice on it,” said another worried friend.
“Enough!” He held up his hand, motioning them all to stop, still shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, which had started to throb immediately. Another minute and they'd have him in an ambulance and on the way to the hospital. “I've been hit in the eye before,” he reminded them in a brisk tone. “Relax."
“You should still go put some ice on it,” Amanda encouraged. “It'll keep the swelling down and..."
“Since when did you become a nurse?” He grinned, shooting her a look out of the corner of his eye.
“Mom..."
“Your mom's a nurse?"
“She's not..."
Only Mike wasn't listening. Darting a glance at the dugout, he saw Emma standing at the fence watching the whole episode. Was that concern on her pretty face? It was hard to tell with the sun in his one good eye. It was her fault he was going to have a black eye so it was only right she doctor him up. All of a sudden he felt dizzy, and he decided he'd better do as everyone suggested. “Maybe I'd better,” he agreed with pretended reluctance, the prospect of spending a little time alone with the lovely Emma Stuart too tempting to pass up.
These days Mike wasn't in the market for feminine companionship but there was something very appealing about Emma. Furthermore, there was nothing in his decision to remain woman-free for the next five years that said he couldn't enjoy an occasional flirtation. He gently shrugged off the helping hands. “Go back to the game, guys.” No way was he going to allow them to walk him back to the dugout like he was an old cripple.
* * * *
Emma watched Mike slowly approach the dugout and immediately began looking around for something to use on his eye. Spying a cooler, she opened it and grabbed a handful of crushed ice before it dawned on her she didn't have anything to put it in. She looked around for Amanda's bag, realizing she'd probably have something in there she could use. Finding it beneath the bench, she sat down and opened it with one hand, digging through the contents for the first item of clothing she saw. However, when she held it up, her mouth dropped.
Oh my!
She glanced up just as Mike stepped into the dugout and held her breath with embarrassment on discovering it was definitely not Amanda's bag she was rifling through. Their eyes locked, well, his one good eye to hers, and a flush spread across Emma's face that produced a full-fledged grin on his. His gaze lowered to take in what she was holding in her hand. Her confidence to handle the situation lagged considerably by the amusement swimming in his eyes.
“I, ah, usually know a woman a little longer before letting her, ah, handle my underwear,” he had the nerve to say, crossing his arms. He was thoroughly enjoying her dilemma.
Emma was speechless, drowning in the deep water of Mike's eyes. Not only had she been caught going through someone's bag, but it turned out to be his. She glanced at the underwear in question, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets when a foiled condom packet fell out, landing on her lap. She dropped the boxers as if she'd grabbed a snake, ignoring the condom, too mortified to move. She knew she should say something but the words stuck in her throat. The ice melting in her hand reminded her of what she'd been doing, enabling her to finally act with some amount of normalcy.
Trying for a smile, she was barely able to lift her voice above a whisper. “I, ah, thought this was Amanda's bag; she has one that's very similar. I saw you get hit in the eye and was looking for something to put this ice in."
Mike surprised her by reaching forward. The closer he got the further she shrank back. But he only snatched the condom off her lap and tossed it back in his bag, his jaw tight as though trying to hold back a laugh.
“Is that for me?"
Emma nodded, thankful he wasn't going to mention the condom. “Your eye's already turning color...” Her voice trailed off into nothingness when he moved to his bag, which was on her lap. For a second his face was so close that she couldn't breathe. Mike glanced up from his search in time to see her wetting her lips. His gaze lingered there and Emma was sure her heart stopped beating. She was certain she saw a flare of interest flash across his face.
“Will this do?” He pulled out a thin tank top, waiting patiently for her to respond.
Nodding, she held out her hand with the ice in it. It had almost melted completely. She'd have to get more. “It's hot,” she explained with an innocent smile, jumping off the bench to go back to the cooler.
Mike jumped back to avoid being hit in the face but he wasn't quick enough. Emma's head caught him just beneath the chin, causing him to bite down on his tongue when his jaw snapped closed. He just barely managed to keep from swearing. Now he was really dizzy, and he swayed slightly on his feet.
“Oh! I'm so sorry,” Emma rushed out, reaching up to grab him by the shirt.
The sound of material ripping seemed as loud as a clap of thunder, and was no less devastating for Mike. After ten years of wearing his lucky weekend tee shirt through numerous baseball games and fishing trips without anything more than a beer stain marring it, she'd managed to ruin it in the space of a few seconds. He opened his mouth in an effort to tell her it was okay, but the lie wouldn't come.
“Oh my gosh.” She stood back with her hand over her mouth, peering at him with rounded eyes. “I think you were safer out on the field."
Was she trying to be cute? Mike peered at her with his good eye, the other one half closed by the swelling. His hand examined the damage to his shirt, fingering the torn edges of material, watching her eyes widen as she continued to stare at him over the palm of her hand. Her gaze dropped, her eyes widening even more if that were possible, prompting him to take a closer look. One side of his chest was exposed and running across it in three neat little lines were the obvious marks of a woman's nails. His crooked smile wasn't meant to put Emma at ease. She was damn cute when she was flustered and he was enjoying every minute of it.
“I'm not usually this inept,” she finally said, watching the scratches bead up with blood. “Goodness, you look like you've been in a fight.” She couldn't seem to take her eyes off his chest, giving Mike the unexpected urge to rip the rest of his shirt off.
He didn't want to spoil the moment by putting in his own two cents worth. The scratches brought forth a memory when he and his high school girlfriend were getting hot and heavy in the bed of his father's pickup truck one night. Damned if he could recall her name, but she'd scratched him too, though for different reasons. All at once he felt hot, only he wasn't thinking of some nameless teenager from the past. It was the lady in front of him causing the wild urge surging through him.
“Are you all right? Your color doesn't look so good. There's a funny glaze in your, ah, good eye.” There was no denying the concern in her voice as she began to run her eyes over him like a mother hen looking over her brood. When he didn't answer right away, she continued, “Officer Denton?"
Hell, maybe he had a concussion. His pulse was racing, that was for sure. At the very least his blood pressure was rising at an alarming rate. He struggled for control. “I think we're past the formality stage, don't you?” He indicated his torn shirt.
“I'm so sorry about your shirt,” she said again, her face turning a becoming shade of pink. “I'll buy you another one."
Once again her gaze ran over his exposed chest, which wasn't doing anything to cool him off. “I don't know if I should put this ice on your eye or your scratches.” She could barely look him in the eye.
Mike took a deep breath, knowing what he'd like to say. The hell with his eye; no amount of ice was going to help it anyway. However, ice on his chest might help cool down the sudden heat boiling in his blood. Damn, he hoped he wasn't obvious. But his body was having a very obvious reaction to Emma. His gaze shot out to the field, trying to gauge where the game was and when his team would be heading back in. The last thing he wanted was for them to return and see the state he was in.
“Maybe you'd better sit down,” Emma suggested as the silence stretched between them. Gently taking him by the arm, she guided him to the bench, pushing him down when he didn't resist. “I hope you don't have a concussion.” She moved in close, raising her hand to put the compress she'd made over his eye.
Hell, Mike thought, a concussion was the least of what he had. He took a long, deep breath, hoping it was enough to calm down his racing heart and his very male reaction over her closeness. Her subtle fragrance reached him on a sensual level. “Me too,” he said between clenched teeth. Didn't she realize she'd moved between his thighs?
There was nowhere for him to retreat. He assumed Emma finally realized her mistake when she suddenly reared back, peering at him with dawning knowledge in her eyes. She took a breath that sounded like a gasp of pleasure and he watched her pupils dilate, knowing then and there she was as affected by his nearness, as he was hers. She forced a smile, attempting to step back. Just when Mike figured things couldn't get any worse, her sneaker got caught on a rough edge of uneven ground and she stumbled backwards, her arms flailing wildly as she lost her balance.
It happened so fast there was no time for thought. He moved rapidly, clamping his thighs together and entrapping her between his legs. His actions had dire consequences though, causing her to bump against a spot most women aimed for when they were being attacked.
“Oh!” she gasped.
Mike sucked in his breath, but it wasn't because he was in any pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back a groan as unexpected desire surged through him like a rocket blasting off for the moon. The feel of Emma's soft body brushing against his groin produced the kind of rush he hadn't experienced since high school. Hell, he couldn't recall the last time he'd experienced it.
If things continued on the course they were heading he was going to embarrass himself and not just in front of her but the whole damn team. He was shaking by the time he released her.
She quickly stepped back. “Oh dear, I don't know what's got into me today. If I've hurt you...” Her movements were more careful the next time she moved. Mike didn't know if he liked the way she was gazing at him. Much too motherly.
With a diminishing smile, she replaced the ice over his eye, going out of her way to keep her distance. Her cheeks were bright red, making him wonder if they'd be hot to the touch. Maybe she'd felt something too, when their bodies collided. She was lucky though; a woman had one advantage over a man and that was she could hide the signs of arousal. Yet something told Mike her arousal was there, just beneath the surface.
As though his silence unnerved her, she chuckled saying, “If you were a child, I'd kiss it and make it better."
Mike's eyebrows shot up at her outrageous comment. The thought of her kissing “it” to make it better nearly did him in, and he doubted she'd appreciate where his mind had wandered. She seemed too innocent for that, in spite of her years. And that made her very appealing. He took a deep breath, wondering how it was she could cause a man to get a raging hard on and not be aware of it. He fought against the impulse to clench his thighs together to disguise his condition.
With his luck he'd just bring attention to it and have Emma blushing like a schoolgirl, or worse, run screaming from the dugout. Since his baseball mitt was on the seat next to him he reached for it, casually draping it over his lap and praying he wasn't too obvious. Emma began to hum softly beneath her breath, a nervous habit he was willing to bet. She didn't seem to be aware she was doing it. Until now she'd avoided looking directly at him, but his unexpected movement with the glove drew her attention to his quiet gaze.
Their eyes locked and for a moment she seemed lost. Awkwardly clearing her throat, she asked, “Is it feeling any better?"
Mike wasn't sure if she meant his eye, the scratches on his chest, or his slowly diminishing hard on. In spite of all that, a crooked grin spread across his face. “Yes.” His voice came out sounding like a dry croak and he quickly cleared his throat, trying again. “Much better. How does it look?"
She removed the dripping cloth. “Well, the swelling's gone down; it's not completely shut so you should be able to see out of it. And,” she hesitated before adding with a reluctant smile, “it's a beautiful shade of plum."
“Great,” he mumbled beneath his breath. “I'll be sure to tell my date for the policemen's dance to wear something in lilac."
A soft laugh escaped Emma, her eyes gleaming with child-like amusement. A noise pulled their attention to the ball field to see Mike's teammates running toward the dugout. “The inning is over,” she stated, turning to meet his eyes.
“The game,” he corrected, holding her gaze.
After a long moment and just as everyone began piling into the dugout, Emma held out her hand. “It was nice meeting you again, Mike."
“The pleasure was all mine.” His large hand swallowed hers up. Her voice was so soft, he lowered his gaze, watching her lips form the words with interest. It was a mistake and only showed him how much he wanted to kiss her at that moment. Though before he knew it, her hand slipped from his as she turned to meet Amanda. He watched the gentle sway of her hips, wondering if he'd see her again. His hand went up to finger the torn edges of his favorite shirt before continuing up, gently probing at his swollen eye. She was dangerous.
Just as his eyes settled on the enticing curve of her backside, his vocal thirteen-year-old daughter, Melissa, entered the dugout, calling out for him as she rushed past Emma with a smile on her face that stretched from ear to ear. “Dad, guess what? The old theater downtown is..."
He acknowledged her as she approached, vaguely listening to her excited chatter about some play. He and Emma exchanged final glances when she looked back. For a moment her expression was hard to read, the look in her soft eyes almost accusing when they moved back and forth between him and Melissa. At that moment Mike realized what he saw shimmering in those wounded depths. Disappointment coupled with angry disapproval. Before he could begin to guess at what he'd done, she turned and left the dugout.
Chapter 4
“So, Mom, did you meet anyone at the picnic the other day who, ah, piqued your interest any?"
Emma wondered when Amanda would get around to asking her that particular question. She couldn't stop a smile of amusement from spreading across her face before answering. “Well, I know a lot of people from around these parts but I did see a couple of new faces. Pam Wells and her family just moved here from Ohio and Stacy—"
“Okay, okay! You know what I mean,” she interrupted, with mild annoyance in her tone. “Men, did you meet anyone who you thought was, ah, kind of interesting? Or ... Sexy?"
Was that hope Emma detected in her tone? Mike's face immediately flashed before her but she quickly brushed thoughts of him aside now that she knew he was unattainable. Recalling how hurt she'd been after finding out about Richard's two timing ways, she knew there was no way she'd put another woman through that. She liked to think her scruples were set at a higher standard.
She set the speed for the treadmill faster until she was forced to break into a mild jog, glad Amanda had talked her into joining the health club. It was something they could do together four times a week and she was already beginning to feel the rewards of her hard work. It was never too late to firm up certain places that had begun to get a little too soft.
“Aren't you going to answer me?” Jogging at a full run, she puffed lightly between each word, her speed making Emma's look more like a fast walk.
Emma decided to play stupid. “I think Troy's kind of sexy.” She quickly turned her head so her sister wouldn't see her smile.
Over the noise of the machines, the upbeat music the aerobic instructor was teaching a class of twelve to, and the sound of huffing and puffing that echoed throughout the room, Emma still detected the annoyed tsk Amanda released.
“What's wrong?” she asked innocently.
Amanda only glared at her, punching in the number to gain even more speed. Emma didn't know how she did it. If she tried to set her machine that fast, she'd end up going through the wall behind her. During the silence that followed, she glanced at the mirror directly across from them, frowning slightly at the way she looked in her workout clothes while trying to pretend she wasn't the only woman in there who was over dressed.
Maybe she'd been too quick in shooting down Amanda's idea of buying a new gym outfit. Her old pair of sweats covered her from neck to foot and was so baggy she looked like a dirty snowman on the verge of melting. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that became more undone with every step she took. What's more, the stretch hair band that had started out around the top of her forehead had slipped down until it covered her eyebrows. In spite of that, there was no way she was going to let go of the handlebars to push it back up.
Not a very attractive sight, Emma thought, glancing away from her reflection. She wondered how long it would take to work off a few extra pounds before the holidays so she could put them back on again. Not that she had anyone to impress. Thoughts of Mike were quickly pushed to the back of her mind again. Why couldn't she get the blasted man out of her head? That was easy, because she was attracted to him, that's why. The first man to pique her interest since her divorce and he was married.
“Oh, I almost forgot, there's a Halloween party Friday night at the community center in Troy's apartment complex. They put one on every year and the only requirements are that everyone comes in costume and brings something to eat or drink."
Emma raised a brow. “How come all of a sudden you're inviting me to all these community events? I've been doing just fine on my own."
“Staying at home and dog sitting for the neighbors,” Amanda cut in, reaching for the towel around her neck and wiping her brow. “I figured it was time someone took over to get you out before it's too late and you die an old maid."
“I was getting out,” Emma insisted, ignoring the rest of her remark. “And I certainly don't need anyone handling my social calendar, little sister."
Amanda laughed. “What social calendar? By getting out if you mean grocery shopping twice a month..."
“Once a week,” Emma corrected with humor.
Rolling her eyes, Amanda changed the subject. “You had a good time at the picnic, didn't you?"
Right up until she realized Mike was married. After she left the dugout that day she'd stuck like glue to the unattached ladies in the group, some of them old enough to be her mother. The only other time she saw Mike was from a distance and he'd been involved with his daughter and a group of her friends. She supposed his wife was somewhere out there too and was secretly glad she hadn't seen them together.
“For the most part.” Seeing the light of determination fill Amanda's eyes, Emma realized this was just another one of those times when she wasn't going to give in. She sighed heavily, smiling in spite of herself, already thinking about what she could wear to a costume party.
All at once the sweatband slipped over her eyes, blinding her. Swearing beneath her breath, she made the mistake of releasing the handles to fix it. At the speed she was going there was no way to prevent herself from flying backward to the end of the treadmill. She flew right off, and just when she expected to feel the wall against her backside, a pair of arms and a hard body got in the way.
“Oh!” she cried out with embarrassed surprise.
“I got ya, sweetheart!” The man's voice boomed throughout the center as though he were yelling through a microphone.
“Thank you,” she gasped, quickly pushing the sweatband over her eyes so she could see again. She peered into the man's large, square-jawed face, struggling out of his massive arms as fast as she could. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she hastily yanked her sweatshirt down where it had ridden up, exposing her midriff. And that's when her gaze fell on Mike.
For a moment Emma froze, literally, the breath locking in her throat. Maybe with a little luck he wouldn't recognize her.
* * * *
If Hugh O'Callaghan's booming voice hadn't caught Mike's attention, recognizing Emma's soft, startled sound of gratitude would have, even over the noise in the room, making him wonder if he'd been unconsciously looking for her. The last time he saw her she'd been walking back to her car the day of the picnic, late in the afternoon when the last rays of the sun had captured the auburn highlights in her hair. He'd been thinking about her ever since.
Now here she was, looking like a fish out of water in ancient sweats and a purple sweatband he suspected was really a hair band. He noticed the damp patches and the way her hair was clinging to her neck, realizing she'd been working out for awhile. Though right now she was looking up at Hugh with incredibly huge eyes, while his Hercules style body dwarfed over her slight frame. Mike fought down the stab of jealousy shooting through him from seeing her in the arms of another man, no matter how innocent. He wondered what excuse he could come up with to arrest Hugh, something that would stick.
Better yet, maybe he should just lock Emma up and toss away the key. He'd been a member of the health club for a year, so how come he'd never noticed her there before? His lips spread into a gradual smile when he noticed her flustered state and the fact she couldn't take her eyes off him. The only thing keeping him from marching across the room and doing something about it was Melissa.
Raising a teenager these days was a responsibility no one truly understood unless they were in the same shoes. Raising one alone was a nightmare. Mike thought that so far he was doing a fairly decent job of it because he was staying focused, which meant not pursuing certain wants in life he might have.
No matter how attractive he found Emma, he didn't have time to pursue a relationship or anything else that might interfere with his number one priority. He took a deep breath, realizing she was too cute to ignore. He could at least acknowledge her. Nevertheless, all he did was nod before breaking eye contact and turning away to head for the men's locker room.
He'd promised to take Melissa shopping for a Halloween costume and nothing was going to keep him from it. Including sexy Emma Stuart.
* * * *
Emma scrutinized her reflection in the full-length mirror, shaking her head. The gold sequined outfit was a lot more revealing than she first thought. The fact that she'd waited until the last minute to hit the costume store was her own darn fault. By the time she'd made it to the Fantasy Palace, she was left with a choice of going as a carrot, a half naked Eve which only included three strategically placed leaves, or a harem dancer. It seemed everyone in town was either going to this or another Halloween party.
Now here she was, hiding out in the ladies restroom because she was too afraid of joining the party. She looked at her coat where it hung on the rack with the others, debating on putting it back on and just going home. She doubted she'd be missed. She glanced back to the mirror, her eyes moving critically over her costumed body. Too much cleavage, too much midriff, too much everything was exposed, leaving her with a feeling of vulnerability because she'd never been the adventurous type.
She tried to pull the bottoms up but they were designed to fall below the hips, revealing her bellybutton. There were yards and yards of gold fabric but the problem was it was mostly sheer. The only thing keeping her from being indecent was the wide band of satin covering her breasts and bottom. Completing the outfit was a pair of gold satin slippers.
The party sounded like it was in full swing, if the noise filtering through the door was any indication. Loud music and the roar of laughter revealed she was missing out on a good time. She peered at herself one last time, arranging the veil over the lower half of her face before covering her eyes with a gold sequin mask. At least no one would be able to tell who she was, unless they happened to recognize the tiny mole just above her bellybutton. She laughed at the thought. There's no way that was possible because she wasn't in the habit of wearing revealing clothing, including her one-piece swim suits.
It was now or never. Taking a deep breath for courage, she swung the door open and stepped into the hallway. It was pitch black but for the flashing light at the end of it prompting her to go in that direction. She followed it until she came to an open doorway, which led into the large, main room of the community center. For a moment she paused, adjusting her eyes to the darkness of the room and the blinking disco lights. It wasn't until someone opened the outside door that she realized all the windows had been blackened out. It was the only time she was allowed a decent view of the room and the occupants before everything went dark again.
It looked like there were at least a hundred ghouls and goblins dancing about, but Emma was only looking for one costumed dancer. Finding Amanda in the mix of so much commotion was going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack. The party was already bordering on the wild side. People were dancing crazily all over the place; women were running and squealing with feigned fright while being chased throughout the room by laughing, costumed counterparts. She quickly recognized Batman and Catwoman racing by, followed by Tarzan and Jane.
A group was standing in line for their chance to bob for apples while others were playing pass the orange and musical chairs. A large orange pumpkin dangled from the ceiling, swinging wildly as a blindfolded witch tried to knock it down with a broom. Emma began to move through the room unhurriedly, forgetting all about her skimpy attire once her gaze fell on some of the more outrageous costumes. Some were body suits designed to make the wearer look naked. Grinning at their boldness, she began to search for Lady Marian.
* * * *
Mike was at the refreshment table, leaning his hip casually against it while enjoying a cup of laced punch when his eyes lit on the harem dancer in the midst of the dancers on the floor. The lights on the ceiling above caught the gold sequins lining the satin of her bodice and waistband of her harem pants, momentarily casting an enchanting glow over the woman who made him think of fairies and angels.
His eyes narrowed on the woman as she slowly moved through the crowd, sensing she was searching for someone. Probably her date because why would a woman with a body like hers be there by herself? He was glad for a change to see a woman who wasn't afraid to look like a woman. The ultra-thin types had never whetted his appetite. As she glided closer he couldn't help thinking there was something vaguely familiar about her. The color of her hair, what he could see of it, looked familiar, and the graceful way she moved.
His gaze lingered a moment on hers and the visible portion of her face behind the veil, before falling to her cleavage and the gentle swell of her bosom over the edge of her top. Nice, he mused to himself, more than a handful. His gaze continued down to her slim waist, taking in her bellybutton before gliding over the curve of her hips and slender legs. The sheer material of her costume was tied at her ankles and wrists, revealing and concealing at the same time. She had the kind of curves that demanded attention from a man and he was no exception.
Still, something about her nagged at him. Swallowing the rest of his drink, he reached behind him and set the empty cup on the table. He folded his arms, cocking his head slightly as he tried to figure out what it was. When the mysterious beauty reached behind her to give her pants a sharp pull, the action triggered a not too distant memory. And that's when Mike knew he was looking at Emma.
A slow grin spread across his face, as he looked her over with newfound awareness. He would never have pegged Emma for the harem girl type. He was glad his Zorro mask concealed his identity, hoping his silent scrutiny would go unnoticed, especially when she halted within a foot of him. However, he didn't have to worry because they hadn't made eye contact yet. In fact, her eyes were everywhere but on him.
He decided to rectify that immediately. “Looking for someone?” He could see the white of her smile through the veil and coupled with the direct contact of those smoky eyes, it was enough to steal his breath away. She had no idea how appealing she appeared to him at that very moment, how hungry she made him. And Mike knew he was in big trouble.
Chapter 5
Emma caught her breath, recognizing Mike the second she heard the deep timbre of his sexy voice. He made a hunky Zorro, dressed all in black in a costume that fit his tall, powerful body like it was tailored especially for him. She'd seen him watching her while she crossed the room, ignoring him on purpose because she hadn't wanted to encourage any unwelcome attention. Now that she knew who he was, she couldn't take her eyes off him.
He was what dreams were made of, the handsome hero disguised in a black mask, his steely eyes doing all his talking for him as he leaned insolently against the table with that wolfish grin. The bad boy every woman secretly yearns for. He had to know how he affected women with his mysterious presence. Goodness, she all but placed her hand over her pounding heart. What was wrong with her? It took effort to remind herself he was married.
She was about to step away when a dancer bumped into her backside, causing her to fly directly into Mike's arms. “Oh!” she gasped, throwing her head back to meet his eyes just as his strong hands curled around the fleshy part of her arms, catching her against him. Their bodies were flush, and suddenly it seemed like they were sharing every breath, every heart beat as they stared intently into each other's eyes. Emma felt warm heat spread throughout her body, a heat that had nothing to do with the hot disco lights glaring overhead. Time seemed to stand still. She couldn't pull her gaze away from his, too caught up in the spell of the moment and feeling way too much in his strong arms, experiencing way too much sensation against his hard body.
She was old enough to realize the flow of heat pooling in the lower half of her body was the result of sharp and instant arousal. She tried to ignore the tingling in her nipples as they tightened against his chest, wetting her lips to issue an apology. However, the only thing that came out was a noise that sounded very much like a purr of surrender, a sound of betrayal if she ever heard one.
“Mike,” she began, in a breathless tone that revealed her emotions. She was unable to finish, her body trembling on a sudden wave of weakness. Certain her knees were going to give way, she struggled to put the brakes on the obvious signs of what being in his arms was doing to her. “Please...” she began, intending to ask him to let her go, but there was no denying the invitation she heard in her own voice.
Mike's eyes darkened with desire; he didn't want to let Emma go. He'd known he was attracted to her from the start, but he wasn't prepared for the instant results she produced every time she touched him in some way. Even innocently, only this was hardly innocent. He felt every inch of her. His hands tightened around her arms, a low groan locking in his throat.
The very air around them seemed electrified.
He didn't want to feel the attraction, yet he was powerless to push her away. Instead, he was acting like an adolescent discovering what sex was all about for the first time. Hell, he was breaking out in a sweat! Her sweet scent and softness was more than any mortal could bear.
Glancing down was his undoing. Her lovely breasts, crushed against him, were all but spilling out of their scant covering. The breath hissed from his lungs, lust shooting a direct path for his aching groin. Releasing a low growl of denial, he felt himself turning hard, and realized he should set her away from him at once. But she felt too damn good right where she was. As if she belonged there.
The sensible part of his brain told Mike to distance himself now, before things went too far. Yet he held Emma tighter. Then it occurred to him that if he wasn't going to turn her loose, he couldn't very well continue to hold her without a justifiable reason. “Let's dance,” he barked in a less than friendly tone.
Surprise registered on her face but he didn't give her a chance to turn him down. He dragged her onto the dance floor, crushing her against him as they began to sway to the music. A giggle escaped Emma almost immediately, causing him to frown. The music blaring through the room was a lively, upbeat tune. Not particularly to his tastes but it allowed him to keep her close. The couples brave enough to dance to it were nothing but a blur of activity near them, spinning around the room like tops out of control.
“You think this is funny?” he questioned gruffly, a little put out by her misplaced sense of humor. An aroused man was like an angry bear. Didn't she know that? Course, he wasn't making things easier by keeping her in his arms. Maybe he had made up his mind to get his kid raised and out of school before pursuing personal interests but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the foreplay, the forbidden excitement. The new excited rush of what could be. It didn't have to lead anywhere, did it?
He gave up trying to find a place to put his hands that didn't end up on naked flesh, finally settling for the curve of Emma's hips. She placed her hands on his shoulders naturally, drawing her body closer to his. Before Mike realized what he was doing, his hands slowly rose to her waist and above, halting beneath the swell of her breasts. It was a move he was going to pay for. He tried to halt the sudden rush rolling through his blood but it wasn't fast enough to keep his senses from going into overdrive.
“I wasn't laughing over this,” Emma began, referring to the unspoken frustration of the feelings surging through them. “I was laughing at the music. We're slow dancing."
“Emma...” He pulled back far enough to look into her eyes. “That was five minutes ago,” he pointed out.
A low, seductive laugh escaped her. “I couldn't talk five minutes ago,” she admitted without thinking. It was dark but Mike could make out the flash of fire in her eyes before she lowered her lids and released a long sigh that echoed his feelings too. “This isn't right,” she said regretfully, scanning the crowd nervously.
“Just be thankful we're in a public place.” His hands smoothed down to the curve of her hips, splaying out to include the rounded slopes of her buttocks. “Or you still wouldn't be able to talk.” There was no way she couldn't know what he meant.
She gasped in what he could only ascertain was shock before pulling out of his arms and taking a step back. Mild anger and disapproval laced her bitter words. “I'm sorry, Mike, but I'm not in the habit of sleeping around, especially with married men.” Before he could stop her, Emma turned and marched away.
Married man? Where the hell had that come from? He watched her weave through the crowd, wondering if she knew something he didn't. He hadn't been married for a long time, not since Sharon had walked out four years before and he'd filed for divorce and custody of Melissa. Then it came back to him, that day in the dugout when Melissa had called out to him after the game. He recalled the look in Emma's eyes, the hurt expression. She must have heard and drawn her own conclusion.
It was just as well, he thought, heading back to the punch bowl. One of them had to keep a cool head, and if the trick were letting Emma believe he was married, he'd take advantage of it. Even if it was going to cost him his sanity when she was around.
* * * *
How could Mike be so deceitful? Richard's face flashed before Emma's eyes, along with the memory of all the nights he'd called to say he was working late. The weekend trips he'd taken across country in search of new and unusual recipes to prepare in their successful restaurant. Trips that later she'd discovered he hadn't taken alone. What possessed a man to think it was okay to cheat on the woman who loved him?
She didn't glance back but knew Mike was watching her. The telltale sting behind her eyes warned her she was going to cry, the thought angering her only more. Why did he have to be so darn appealing? When she was in his presence, all her good sense went right out the window. Was this how it had been for Richard in the beginning? Had he struggled between right and wrong before giving into the weakness?
She stormed into the ladies room and grabbed for her coat, angry disappointment spilling over onto her cheeks. Whipping the mask and veil off, she wiped at a tear before going to the sink to splash cool water on her eyes. The door opened and she glanced up in the mirror to see Lady Marian walk in. She grabbed a paper towel and quickly dried her face before tossing the paper towel away.
“Mom? What happened?” Amanda looked at her with concern, taking in the fact she was wearing her coat.
There was no use fibbing, and Amanda wasn't blind. “I've been crying."
“I can see that, but why? What happened?"
Emma snorted. “Men. In particular, Zorro.” She ran her fingers through her hair, surprised to find them shaking.
Amanda frowned, her eyes narrowing with something close to astonished disbelief. “Did Mike step out of line?"
Sniffling, Emma raised a brow. “How did you know Mike was dressed as Zorro?"
“I, ah...” She suddenly swung around to the sink, turning on the tap to wash her hands.
If Emma didn't know better she'd swear Amanda was killing time to come up with a good answer. Her suspicions grew when she refused to meet her eyes. “Did you see us dancing?” She slapped her hands on her hips, prepared to wait all night for an answer. “Well?"
“You were dancing with him?” Amanda asked innocently, glancing at Emma in the mirror. At that point it was too late. Once they made eye contact, Emma knew what her sister was up to; guilt was written all over her face. She'd never been good at covering up or lying; the look in her eyes gave her away every time.
“I know what you're up to, little sister. I saw the look you gave Troy in the dugout the other day but I pushed my suspicions aside. You should have done your homework before deciding to play matchmaker. A married man is the last man I'd ever fall for.” Emma swallowed the half lie.
Amanda's eyes grew wide and she spun back around to face Emma, a look of total astonishment on her face. “A married man! Mom, you couldn't be more wrong, Mike isn't married. Whatever gave you that idea?"
“But...” Emma's thoughts drifted back to the day of the picnic and the young girl. She knew what she'd heard, and Mike had been the only man at the back of the dugout so her remark couldn't have been meant for anyone else. Plus she'd seen him with the young girl later.
As if reading her mind, Amanda added, “Mike's a single dad. He has a thirteen-year-old daughter named Melissa. They've been on their own since Melissa was nine."
“A single dad, then why did he let me believe...” He could have corrected her when she'd made that comment about sleeping around but he hadn't even tried. Unless he wanted her to believe he was married, but that didn't make any sense. Was it just a game with him? Emma didn't want to believe that. Something about Mike said he was past the age of playing games.
“Did Mike tell you he was married?” Amanda asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“Not exactly.” Emma slipped off her coat, a plan taking shape in her mind. “But he let me believe he was married.” She saw the confusion on Amanda's face and shrugged. “I don't know why it matters but I intend to find out.” In good time, she added to herself. “Don't you dare tell him I'm on to him, either. I want to see how far he intends to go with this."
“What are you doing?” Amanda asked, watching Emma hang her coat back up.
Emma shot her a bright smile. “I've decided to stay a little longer. Halloween only comes once a year and I want to get my rentals worth for this costume.” Now that she knew the truth about Mike, things were going to get interesting. She wondered how long it would take before he cracked and made a confession.
A lighthearted, more self-assured Emma rejoined the party, minus her mask this time. She couldn't recall the last time she felt so carefree, a heady feeling due partly to finding out that Mike wasn't married after all. Now she didn't have to feel guilty about her naughty thoughts where he was concerned. Smiling like a silly schoolgirl, she went straight for the refreshment table, trying not to be obvious as she searched the room for Zorro.
She eyed the punch bowl and helped herself to a generous serving, surveying the boisterous activity in the room. The party had almost doubled since her arrival and the volume of the music was almost loud enough to break eardrums. The dance floor was packed with writhing bodies and she laughed gaily when the jolly green giant swirled by with a tiny pea pod in his arms. Her eyes made a sweep of the room again. Where was Zorro?
Two glasses later, she began to suspect the punch was laced with something. She was definitely feeling the hazy effect alcohol usually produced in her, making her lazy and relaxed. Not totally unpleasant. She set her cup down and reached for an orange cookie, hoping that would take the edge off.
* * * *
Mike watched Emma from across the room, getting brief glimpses of her as dancers twirled about in front of him. He figured it was safer this way. She made him want too fast, too hard, and that scared him. He'd dated on and off the last four years, had even gotten close to a couple women, but no one had come close to making him forget where he was. Emma made him forget everything but her.
When they were on the dance floor, he could have easily done something that would have embarrassed them both. His lips quirked into a lopsided grin as he watched her drink down a second glass of punch as though it were water, instincts telling him she didn't know it was laced with vodka. Someone brushed against him and he glanced down at Cleopatra, knowing immediately who was behind the heavy makeup and black, shoulder length wig. Trudy Evans had been trying to capture his attention all evening, and had been after him since moving into town the month before. How the hell had she figured out who he was?
“Oh excuse me, Zorro!” she gushed like a blushing virgin, putting her hands on Mike's arms. “Someone pushed me."
Mike doubted it. “It's a good thing I was here to stop your fall,” he murmured, his gaze shooting back to where he'd last seen Emma. For a moment the crowd blocked his view and he moved his head from side to side to see around them, his eyes narrowing when he watched Frankenstein walk up to her. His mouth turned down as he realized Frankenstein was girl-happy Pete. Before he knew it she was in his arms and they were twirling wildly around the dance floor.
Mike excused himself from Trudy, heading for the dance floor with purposeful strides.
Chapter 6
Emma didn't really feel like dancing. Yet before she was able to vocalize her feelings, Frankenstein took her into his arms, swinging her onto the dance floor. The room began to swim immediately and she stumbled slightly, clutching the front of his costume for support.
“Hello, beautiful lady!” he gushed with alcohol induced enthusiasm, his teeth startlingly white against a backdrop of green paint. “I can't believe someone hasn't snatched you up before now, my good fortune."
Definitely not hers, Emma thought, trying to remain on her feet. How did he move so fast wearing those lifts on his shoes? She turned her head automatically when he lowered his face, thinking he meant to kiss her.
“Are you here alone?” he asked, his eyebrows dancing up and down.
Frankenstein doing a Groucho Marx impersonation struck her funny bone and she started laughing. She hated lying but as soon as she pulled herself together, one lie passed through her lips anyway. “Sorry, no. I—"
He made a disappointed sound, interrupting her. “That's too bad."
As he twirled her wildly, she had no choice but to close her eyes and pray he didn't release her. She stumbled a second time, laughing it off. Before she could apologize for her clumsiness, Frankenstein traded her for Snow White and Emma suddenly found herself in the arms of Zorro again.
Grateful for the rescue, she looked deeply into his eyes. “Don't I know you?” she teased, not protesting when he drew her more firmly against him. Almost protectively she couldn't help notice, and a little thrill shot down her spine.
Mike's lips twitched with humor. “We've run into each other a time or two,” he responded, slowing down so she could keep up. “How about I take you home?"
Her eyes widened with surprise. “I thought I told you I don't sleep around,” she reminded him breathlessly, waiting for him to deny it.
“That didn't exactly come out right, I don't mean take you home to bed; in case you weren't aware of it, there was vodka in that punch."
That meant he'd watched her drink down two glasses. Was he actually blushing? Emma laughed gaily. “I thought it was spiked. But I am not drunk, you know, just a little dizzy—"
“Do you know how just a little dizzy can be dangerous when you're driving?” he interrupted in a hardened tone. “I can recall one too many alcohol-related accidents from my years in a squad car."
Emma arched a brow, taking offense to his tone of voice. “Before you interrupted me I was going to say, I'm just a little dizzy due to lack of food and being swung around the dance floor too fast.” She made a halfhearted effort to pull away from him.
He easily held her against him, releasing a resigned sigh. “Sorry, I don't know what it is, but when I'm around you..."
“I rub you the wrong way?” she said with a smile, feigning an innocent yet knowing look in her eyes.
“Something like that,” he mumbled, trying to return her smile but failing miserably. For the second time that night he was becoming aroused, clenching his teeth as if that alone would hold it at bay. He tried to think of something else, anything that would take his mind off her. For starters he raised his hands to her waist, realizing they'd fallen dangerously low. The memory of what her curvy bottom felt like in his hands caused a rush of heat to settle low in his belly, threatening to ignite at the slightest provocation. He began to wonder if he'd drunk a little more than his legal quota. Another major mistake, as far as Mike was concerned. He thought he heard a wistful sigh escape Emma but it was hard to tell with the music and conversation flowing around them.
“So, ah, where's your wife?"
Emma's radiant smile momentarily held Mike spellbound. “My, ah, wife?” Her question threw him for a loop until he remembered her last words to him. Thinking he was married was a good thing, right? Only lying went against the grain. “Right at the moment I don't know,” he finally responded, sticking as close to the truth as he could. It wasn't exactly a lie. He hadn't seen Sharon since she deserted them and the last he heard she'd moved out of the state.
“Is she here? I'd like to meet her.” She made a show of looking through the crowd around them as though she knew whom she was searching for.
“No.” There was nothing like talking about his ex-wife to kill the desire riding Mike. It was as if Emma knew ... He cut his silent thought in half, narrowing his eyes on her suspiciously, trying to see through the mischievous twinkle staring back at him. Did she know?
“That's a shame. How long have you been married?"
He noticed that her hands were resting lightly on his shoulders, her fingers tapping to the beat of the music. Her eyes seemed to be avoiding his. She appeared to be looking around the room. A smile softened her mouth, making it appear as velvety and dewy as a rose pedal.
He would have been married for sixteen years but found himself answering honestly. “Ten years. I think it's time I take you home,” he remarked, quickly changing the subject. It was almost midnight and the party appeared to be winding down.
“That's not necessary.” She missed a step, her foot coming down on top of his. “Sorry..."
As far as Mike was concerned she'd just proved his point about needing a ride home. The look in his eyes told her so. “I don't mind. If memory serves me correctly, we don't live that far away from each other."
“No, I mean I came with Amanda,” she explained. They stopped moving when the music stopped, remaining close.
“Well, unless my eyes were deceiving me a few minutes ago, I saw Amanda leave."
Emma did move out of his arms then, her eyes widening. “She wouldn't just leave me!” she said with disbelief.
Mike watched her carefully, crossing his arms while she scanned the room with incredulity in her eyes. He gave her as long as she needed to accept her situation, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth when he saw her hike up her low hanging pants again.
Finally she turned back to him. “Convinced?” He grinned.
“I could always phone for a cab,” she hedged, “I can't believe Amanda would just go off and leave me. She's never done anything like that before."
The innocence behind Emma biting down on her bottom lip reminded Mike of something similar his daughter did when she was in trouble and afraid to tell him about it. “It's my duty as an officer of the law, ma'am,” he drawled.
“Because you think I'm inebriated?"
She crossed her arms, which wasn't a very good idea, considering the action pushed her breasts up and drew his attention there. Her challenging stance amused him. He knew he was using the two glasses of punch she'd consumed earlier as an excuse to take her home.
“If I let you leave here and something happens...” He purposely let his sentence trail off.
Emma pinned her gaze on him, one well-shaped brow arching high. “You're forgetting one thing, officer, I can still call for a cab."
Mike shrugged. “Good luck getting one any time soon. It's almost midnight and with all the Halloween parties going on tonight they're probably all pretty busy taking calls from other dizzy, harem dancers.” He paused for a moment. “And it's detective,” he corrected.
It was the first time Mike commented about her costume. Until then Emma had half hoped he hadn't paid much attention to it. Now she became self-conscious. The way his gaze was moving over her made her wish she'd chosen the carrot. At least that would have covered her completely.
“Detective,” she corrected in a sassy tone. “I guess I have no choice but to let you do the gentlemanly thing and drive me home. Just let me get my coat.” She walked away before he could say another word.
On her way to the ladies room, Emma couldn't help wondering what she was getting into. There was clearly something about Mike that drew her to him, a definite chemistry between them. In addition, she liked his sense of humor. She wasn't at all certain she was looking for a relationship, although it was apparent Amanda thought she was. One thing was certain though; Mike wasn't looking for a relationship. Since he was letting her believe he was still married, that was the only conclusion she could draw. The question of the century was, why?
Slipping into her coat, she left the ladies room, noticing the party was beginning to wind down fast. Someone had finally turned off the disco lights. The soft glow of the fluorescent bulbs overhead revealed the dancing had stopped. Muted sounds of conversation and mild laughter had replaced the music as the few partygoers left behind had formed into small, tight groups. Frankenstein waved to get her attention, shooting her a kiss when she glanced his way. Laughing, Emma tossed him one back.
Mike was waiting for her at the snack table, munching on a celery stick, the leafy green part hanging out of his mouth and dripping water down the front of his black shirt. He'd removed his mask and somehow appeared even more dark and dangerous. Sexy, which was probably why she said what she did when he was within hearing range.
“I hope your wife doesn't mind you taking another woman home."
Not so much as a blink gave his true feelings away. “Let me worry about that."
Taking her by the arm, he led her towards the door. It was on the tip of Mike's tongue to tell her the truth, but he'd let it go on for too long. After tonight they'd probably never see each other again anyway, so what did it matter? Just because they'd run into each other twice in one week didn't mean anything.
Mike wasn't big on kismet. He was a realist, believed in facts, black and white and what was in front of his nose. He had to see it to believe it. He hadn't always been that way. Maybe his mother was right, he'd let his situation with Sharon harden him. Turn him into a cynic. What man wouldn't grow a little bitter when the woman he loved and thought loved him just walked away?
The second they stepped through the door, a crisp autumn breeze whipped over them. The chill in the air was undeniable. Mike watched Emma pull her coat more closely around her as they walked through the parking lot to his truck. He glanced down to see the wind wreaking havoc with her hair. Leaves from the maple trees nearby were flying about their heads and shoulders and by the time he opened his truck door, Emma was laughing and trying to keep her hair out of her face and mouth. The low seductive quality of her laugh sharpened his senses, hardening his determination to ignore it.
“I love this kind of weather!” Her soft voice drifted away on the wind. Turning toward him, she paused between him and the door he'd opened, looking up at the unclouded sky. “Fall is my favorite time of year,” she admitted cheerfully. “I love the crisp clean air and the sound of howling wind whipping through the trees. Don't you?"
Although she'd asked a question, Mike got the impression she wasn't expecting a reply. He'd never given the time of year much thought. But for a moment he allowed his gaze to follow hers upwards, before slowly lowering to meet her eyes. The parking lot light reflected the innocence in Emma's eyes. The urge to kiss her was so strong at that moment that it made him shake. He actually started to crowd her against the truck, pulling back when a moment of sanity returned.
“We'd better go, it's getting late."
“Oh, I'm sorry, Mike, you probably have to work tomorrow.” She swung around to get in.
Mike didn't bother correcting her. If all went accordingly tomorrow, he'd be spending the day out on Bear Lake with Melissa for some quality father-daughter time. He figured he better get in as much time as he could before she started talking about dances and boyfriends. These days all he had to compete with were the weekend slumber parties at her friends’ houses. So far he'd managed to talk her out of having them at their place. Having one teenage girl in the house was bad enough, but there was no way Mike was going to subject himself to a bunch of girls on the brink of womanhood. He'd seen the way they ogled anything male. A clear sign their hormones had kicked in. Mike figured he needed that kind of trouble like he needed a hole in the head.
Touching Emma as little as possible, he helped her into the cab, closed the door, and took several steadying breaths as he walked around to the driver's side. By the time he climbed in, he was halfway in control again. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad being cooped up in his truck with her after all.
It was worse than bad. As soon as the cab filled with the heat he'd turned on, he caught her light fragrance. Not the perfume Emma was wearing, but her. In an effort to take his mind off her, he reached forward and turned the radio on low, but that only intensified the atmosphere with the slow, sultry tune of an old love song.
Hell! There was no escape. The sudden image of them making love made his blood come to a full boil. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair while trying to pretend he wasn't harder than stone in his pants. Maybe if he talked to her it would keep visions of them together out of his head. “Are you warm enough?” As soon as the words passed through his lips he wished he could recall them; it was hotter than a furnace in there.
“Yes, thank you. Oh, I forgot to tell you that I moved about a month ago."
Mike's gaze swung her way but all he saw was the glitter of her eyes in the darkness. “Am I heading in the right direction?” he asked with a chuckle of dry humor.
Her soft laugh overrode the music playing on the radio. “Yes. I moved into one of the new townhouses down on the lake."
For the second time his head swung Emma's way. “Bear Lake?” That was the only lake around that he knew developers were building on now.
“Yes, you know where it is?"
He nodded with disbelief, clenching his jaw. “Yes, I know where it is.” He couldn't believe it. She was actually living on the very lake he spent most weekends fishing with Melissa. If he didn't know better, he'd think there was more than just coincidence working against him.
Thinking of his daughter, Mike wondered how the Halloween party had gone at her school. He'd offered to chaperone, but she'd begged him not to, saying it was bad enough some of the other parents were going to be there, baby-sitting, if he remembered her words correctly. They didn't need a cop around on top of that.
His daughter hadn't been a teenager long enough to know what every parent of a teenager already knew, that sexual curiosity and experimentation was right around the corner. Mike dreaded those coming days, recalling what his own youth had been like once he'd hit puberty. He'd lusted after everything in a skirt, including some of his teachers. He'd gone through the last three years of high school with a constant hard on until one of the cheerleaders had taken pity on him and put him out of his misery, educating him in the art of love.
Mike snorted to himself. Love, hell, it had been lust pure and simple. The thought of something like that happening to Melissa made him sick inside, but he knew it was going to happen eventually because it was part of life. Still, God save the punk who tried to get fresh with her and he found out about it.
The ringing of his cell phone interrupted his ominous thoughts and, shooting Emma a glance, he reached for it where it was clipped onto his belt. He just happened to be driving beneath a street light and was able to make out that her eyes were shut, but instincts told him she was just resting.
“Yeah?” he said into the mouthpiece.
“It's me, Dad."
An instant smile formed on his mouth at the sound of Melissa's voice. She sounded tired. “What's up, kid? Everything okay at the party?"
“Oh, we left there an hour ago. I'm at Casey's now. I just wanted you to know before you went to bed.” Casey was Melissa's best friend and her house was one of the few places where he allowed her to sleep over. Secondly, the fact that she didn't have any brothers around was a definite plus. He'd never allow Melissa to spend the night with one of her girlfriends if there were boys in the house.
“And?” Mike could always tell when there was something else on her mind.
“Well, I know we had fishing planned for tomorrow, but..."
“Spit it out kid,” he encouraged when she hesitated.
Melissa cleared her throat. “Would you be very upset if I didn't go? A group of us from school want to go river rafting tomorrow and then picnic at the park and I thought, well, you wouldn't mind. Casey's parents are going,” she was quick to add.
Mike knew what he wanted to say, but something totally different came out. “Bear Lake isn't going anywhere; we can fish any weekend. You go rafting with your friends and have a good time, just dress warm. And call me with all the details before you leave in the morning."
She said goodnight and Mike released a long breath, snapping the phone back into its clip. It was starting already. Tomorrow was probably just the first of many canceled outings between them.
Chapter 7
Emma opened her eyes, glanced at Mike, and asked the obvious. “Was that your daughter?"
“Yep."
She smiled at his brisk response. “Sounds like you were being dumped,” she continued.
“Yep."
“How old is she?"
“Thirteen going on twenty,” he supplied, keeping his eyes on the road. The turn off to Bear Lake came into view and he made a sharp left. “You have a grown daughter; how did you handle it when Amanda turned thirteen?"
Emma chuckled, not correcting his assumption about their relationship. After all, she had raised her. “There's nothing to handle; you can't stop them from growing up. All you can do is guide them and hope they make the right choices. And support them when they go their own way and it's not the path you would have chosen."
“You make it sound so easy. What about...” He hesitated, obviously growing uncomfortable. “Sex education?"
“Some of that she'll get in school."
“That's what I'm afraid of,” he retorted, casting her a glance.
“I don't mean that.” Emma laughed softly, realizing where his fears were heading. “They teach sex education in school, remember? In addition, you should be talking to her about it at home. You might let your wife handle that particular discussion."
He remained quiet after that and Emma knew why. Smiling to herself, she glanced up in time to see a large tan buck step into the middle of the road, freezing in the headlights of the truck.
“Mike!"
He slammed on the brakes. The truck swerved back and forth on loose gravel and for a moment it seemed they weren't going to stop in time. Emma grabbed the dashboard to keep from being thrown against it, and finally the vehicle came to a skidding halt.
“You okay?"
His concern warmed her. She nodded, forgetting he probably couldn't see it in the darkness. “Isn't he beautiful?” she whispered, reaching out blindly and touching Mike on the arm. She couldn't take her eyes off the huge animal as he stood there quivering, his large brown eyes staring directly at them. He looked noble and proud, almost as if he were posing for a picture that would portray his whole species.
“Good thing it's not deer hunting season,” Mike quipped, his voice slightly strained. “He's a prime target right now."
Emma shot him a scowl. “Just like a man,” she responded, taking note of the impressive antlers on the buck. “I see a lot of deer around here. Sometimes I look out my back door in the mornings and they're right there, stealing apples off the crab apple trees."
“Really? About what time is that?"
She picked up on the interest in his tone, chuckling in spite of herself. “Forget it, detective. I'm not going to be the cause of some poor helpless animal becoming someone's dinner. You—” Her remark was cut off by the unexpected sound of gunfire. She jumped. “What..."
“Get down!"
Emma had time to see the buck take off before Mike grabbed her and forced her down on the seat. Another shot followed closely behind the first one, shattering the window in the door next to her. She screamed. Mike swore viciously, gunning the engine to get out of there. They were on a stretch of isolated road and though the shooter was after the buck, right now they were the sitting ducks.
“This isn't hunting season,” Emma said from her crouched position, looking up at the shattered window in her door. Glass had sprayed everywhere but her heavy wool coat had saved her.
“Those rules don't apply to poachers,” Mike said in a tight voice, sparing her a quick glance while reaching forward for his radio. “Are you all right?"
She nodded.
“Stay down and don't move, you're covered in glass,” he ordered in a hard voice while driving the truck at a dangerous speed.
Emma listened quietly while Mike called the station to report the incident, hearing him say he'd meet them back there in half an hour. She wondered what he thought to find in the dark but didn't question him, appreciating his urgency in getting them away from there. Whoever had done the shooting had terrible aim. A shiver ran over her that had nothing to do with the cold air rushing in when she thought about what could have happened. She'd never liked guns and being shot at only enforced her feelings.
“Were you cut by any glass?” Mike questioned with concern in his voice, slowing his speed when they were far enough away from the area. He turned on the dome light.
Meeting the fierce look in his eyes, Emma smiled to reassure him. “I don't think so."
“I'm sorry this happened.” His gaze moved over her quickly before determining she was okay and turning off the light again.
“It wasn't your fault,” Emma insisted, beginning to feel cramped on the floor. The sudden turn Mike made told her they were entering the Bear Lake Townhouse parking lot. She grabbed for the seat when she lost her balance, but it was Mike's thigh her fingers clutched instead. He sucked in his breath. “I'm sorry!” she gasped with embarrassment, realizing she'd hurt him. The muscle beneath her hand flexed, becoming harder and more defined. She released him at once.
“An old war wound,” Mike explained, deciding it was a lot easier than telling Emma the truth. Experience taught him that most people didn't question war wounds; however, in his experience, knife wounds acquired in a fight with a motorcycle gang leader were always a source of interest to someone who wasn't a cop.
Mike didn't feel like going into any details about how he received that injury. He'd only mentioned it in the first place to disguise the truth behind his reaction. She hadn't really hurt him, but her fingers had come dangerously close to his crotch when she'd grabbed for the seat. A couple inches over and she would have gotten a big surprise.
“What's your building number?"
Each townhouse had a large brass number over the garage door and the streetlights enabled Mike to see them as he drove past. The two-story houses of brick had wooden flower boxes at each window on either side of the front door, and a chimney he suspected wasn't just for show. He liked that the developer had opted for building around some of the original pines and birch trees, instead of cutting them down. It gave the place a rustic, established look.
“I live in the last townhouse closest to the lake, building ten."
Mike parked his truck in a spot directly in front of Emma's door and turned off the ignition. As he walked around to her side he caught the reflection of the moon on the glassy surface of the water, noting her nice view of the lake. He opened the door and glanced down, the dome light revealing she'd been showered with glass. It was all over her coat, the seat, and the floor.
Their eyes met as he held out his hand. If she didn't get cut before it was over, it would be a miracle. “Let's take this slow.” Emma put her hand trustingly in his, letting him guide her out. “Don't move,” he ordered when she had her feet planted firmly on the ground. Reaching up, he began to unbutton her coat.
“What are you doing?” she questioned, looking around the darkened parking lot.
“What do you think I'm doing?” he asked with a crooked grin, enjoying her sudden discomfort. “I'm taking off your coat. I want to shake the glass off before we go inside.” If she thought it was odd he said we, she didn't show it.
“I'm not sure I want to give my neighbors a strip show,” Emma explained, glancing around to see if any curtains were being pulled aside. “A lot of them are elderly, and nosey."
Mike's eyes captured hers, his fingers hesitating beneath her chin. If he were an old man and happened to glance out the window in time to see Emma's scantily clad body in a harem outfit, he'd die a happy man. “Think they can't handle the heat?” he teased.
“I don't know, what do you think? This body could be a lethal weapon. I wouldn't want to send anyone to the hospital with cardiac arrest,” she teased right back.
She was kidding, her eyes glimmering with amusement and her tone light, yet Mike couldn't get past the picture of her on the dance floor earlier that night, or the feel of her in his arms. She had a lethal body all right; he was sure he'd be dreaming about her long after they parted. Reminding himself he needed to get back to where the shooting had occurred, he quickly worked the buttons free and slipped the coat off her shoulders, suddenly wishing they weren't standing beneath the streetlight. He stepped back, trying like hell not to let his eyes wander below her chin.
“While you do that, I'm going inside where it's warm,” she quipped, turning for the front door.
He watched her as he shook out her coat, his gaze dropping down the length of her backside as she unlocked the door and flipped on the light. She turned his way, standing there for a moment, nothing but a shapely silhouette in the threshold. Something told him if she knew the light was filtering through her costume right now, she'd die of embarrassment. He hoped the darkness hid the predatory gleam in his gaze as he slowly made his way toward her, seeing Emma in a completely different light now. Literally. The lighting at the Halloween party had been dimmed low for affect, and the disco lights on the dance floor had made everything seem distorted. The bright light behind her enabled Mike to see the full effect of her body in the costume.
A single thought flashed across his mind: fantasy.
He struggled to keep his glance impersonal as he closed the distance between them, but halfway down her body something caught his eye. As he narrowed his gaze, it didn't take him long to determine she'd been cut on the leg, the glass clearly slicing right through the sheer fabric covering her thighs. “Looks like you've been nicked,” he commented, stopping in front of her.
Emma followed the direction of his gaze. “So I have,” she agreed with complete surprise. “I didn't even feel it."
“Do you have a first aid kit?” He stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him and dropping her coat on the back of a chair. “I'll take a look at it to make sure the glass is out and you don't need any stitches."
“That's not necessary,” she began, smiling up at him. “I'm sure peroxide and a Band-Aid will do."
Mike glanced at her long and hard, before raising a brow that he knew usually intimidated people into doing what he wanted. There was no way he was leaving there until he made sure she was all right. The cut was high up on her thigh and he suspected Emma was afraid of letting him get that close to her. “If you're worried about modesty, don't be. I've delivered babies before.” That should take care of her sudden shyness.
“My, you are a talented man,” she quipped. “A detective and a doctor."
“It comes with the costume,” he joked in return. “Now, what about that kit?"
She turned and began walking away from him. “I'll get it; it's in the bathroom under the sink, but I doubt it has much in it. I haven't opened it since Amanda was a child."
Mike was close behind her so when she bent to open the cabinet beneath the sink, he slammed right into her. His hands automatically went to her hips to keep her from flying forward and for the briefest moment their positions were as intimate as they could get. He released her as if he'd been scorched, instinctively reaching up to flip on the light switch. It was obvious Emma hadn't known he'd followed her. She released a nervous laugh, straightening up and meeting his eyes in the brightness of the bathroom light, while taking a nervous step back.
The bathroom wasn't all that big and when Mike stepped further into the room, it shrank even smaller. “Sorry if I frightened you.” As he spoke he looked around the room, searching for a good place for her to sit. There was only one place high enough. “Up.” He patted the vanity top.
“Up? I don't think...” Before she could brace herself, Mike's hands went to her waist, hoisting her up without any trouble. She caught her breath when her legs came in contact with the cold marble surface.
“You were saying?” He took in her pretty blush, noticing she couldn't meet his eyes.
“Do you always get your way?"
There was a slight tremor in her voice, which didn't go unnoticed by Mike. He couldn't help wondering if she was as affected as he was by their close proximity. He began questioning his common sense. Her sitting on the vanity brought their mouths almost at eye level.
“When it matters,” he responded. He lowered his gaze, taking in the blood soaking her costume before opening the kit to see what it offered. Not much, but at least it had bandages and antibiotic ointment. He set it aside and reached for Emma's leg.
She stiffened immediately.
“Ouch."
His gaze shot up to hers. “I haven't even touched you yet."
“I'm practicing,” she said with sass.
The light in her eyes caught Mike's interest and turned him warm inside. For a second he wanted to do something crazy, like kiss that soft mouth. He wanted to know if it tasted as sweet as it looked. He wondered if kissing her would erase the humor that always seemed present in her eyes, replacing it with something else. Something hot and needy. When he realized he was staring at her mouth, he literally shook his head, swearing beneath his breath.
“Are you okay?” There was nothing at all innocent about her question. Not when she used that low, seductive tone and was looking at him like something she wanted to lap up.
Was he okay? Hell, he hadn't been okay since the first time he looked into her large, brown eyes. He managed to find enough strength to ignore her comment, bending to the task at hand. His hands reached for the fabric covering her thigh, gently parting it where it was torn.
Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves and stop the shaking of his hands, he carefully inspected the wound. His fingers and knuckles grazed Emma's soft skin and he clenched his teeth to ignore the rush of heat exploding through him. He couldn't recall the last time he'd touched anything so satiny.
He gently probed the area, searching for any remaining glass. Emma caught her breath, stiffening, her hands falling upon his shoulders as though to push him away. Mike slowly raised his eyes to hers, losing himself in the sensual pools. His hands faltered. The glare of the bathroom light emphasized the situation between them, making it more intimate than it should be.
“It's not deep, you won't need stitches. But if it heals up with glass inside, it could become infected."
“I know you're not hurting me on purpose, Mike. Maybe I need a bullet to bite on or something. Do what you need to do."
What he needed to do and what he wanted to do was the same thing. If Emma only knew what she was inviting, he thought. He was standing between her glorious thighs, touching her; his gaze dropped to her breasts and he noticed the peaks were crowned. They rose and fell softly with her every breath, teasing him, almost begging him for attention. If he made it out of there without making a complete fool of himself, it would be a miracle.
As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Emma suddenly removed her hands from his shoulders. Lord, he thought, just let him finish up and get the hell out of there while he could still walk.
Chapter 8
Emma quietly watched Mike while his fingers gently examined the cut, growing warm when it dawned on her how intimate their positions were. She should never have let him talk her into this, but it was too late to do anything about it now. She tensed every time his knuckles brushed dangerously close to the apex between her legs.
To make matters worse she knew she was responding to his nearness, female to male. Every time his gaze met hers, her belly fluttered in response. Every smile he bestowed upon her, the deep timbre of his voice running over her like thick molasses, the tingle of awareness, lord she prayed she wasn't obvious. Before long she began to squirm against the marble, wishing it was over and she could run and get a robe.
She felt horribly exposed beneath the glare of the bright lights. For the first time she wished she'd told the developer not to add the second mirrored wall. However, at the time she'd been opting for the illusion of a bigger bathroom. Now her gaze was on the mirror across from her, taking in Mike's backside, the tautness of his buttocks when he moved and the way his wide shoulders filled out his shirt. Then she looked at the back of his head, noticing how thick and rich his hair was and wondering what it would feel like to run her fingers through it, if it was as silky as it looked. It was a little on the long side, brushing against the collar of the black shirt.
She couldn't take the silence any longer or the brush of his fingers against her ultra sensitive skin, producing responses in her body that would soon become evident. “Will I live, doctor?"
He didn't even glance up. “Yep."
Emma could only guess Mike was satisfied there was no glass in it when he began to douse the wound with peroxide. She stiffened, sucking in her breath, then watched in shock as he leaned in and began to blow to ease the sting. Oh my God, did he know what he was doing? He was putting out one small flame but replacing it with a rapidly growing inferno. The heat of his breath licked at her skin, teasing the fine hairs there and making her tingle.
“Better?"
Emma nodded, too breathless to say anything, barely able to meet his eyes when he raised his head. She watched as he took some cotton from the kit and gently dabbed at the scratch to clean off the blood, suddenly reminded of the many times throughout the years she'd placed Amanda on the bathroom vanity or kitchen counter top to tend to a scrape or cut.
“Remember when kisses made everything all better?” Not again! Mike was going to think she wanted him to kiss her. His head shot up and Emma blushed the moment the words were out. What on earth was she saying? “I, what I mean is..."
“I remember.” He breathed deeply, a strange light coming to life in his eyes, his expression turning darker. “Do you think it still works after we're all grown up?"
His words sent a scorching fire racing through her and for a moment she was speechless. He couldn't be serious. The amusement in his eyes told her he wasn't, but Emma saw something else in Mike's eyes too. A deeper, stronger emotion that tempted her to find out the answer to his question.
Her eyes were glued to his and she tried to ignore the erratic jump in her pulse. “Maybe, kisses are good for a lot of things."
“Kisses can lead to a lot of things, too,” he returned.
Well, it couldn't get any clearer than that. A shiver washed over Emma's body, his words bringing to mind the picture of them naked and entangled in sheets, kissing. And a whole lot more. Her lips parted to take in air, as breathing suddenly became difficult.
She prayed that, among other things, Mike wasn't also a mind reader. Her tongue came out to wet her bottom lip, the innocent action drawing his gaze there. In the next heart stopping moment he slowly leaned closer and she gasped, realizing if she weren't sitting so far back on the vanity top, the bottom half of their bodies would be touching.
That thought brought an instant reaction from her heightened senses, leaving her panties damp. A tiny whimper escaped her. When was the last time she'd felt such overwhelming desire? It frightened her, yet she didn't draw away when Mike did what she'd been yearning for. He took her gently by the hips, pulling her forward into the intimate cradle of his.
Oh my!
A current of intense heat traveled through his body to hers and she began to tremble violently with response. “Mike.” The whispered puff came out before she could rein it in, sounding amplified in the small room. It didn't seem to matter to him that he wanted her to think he was married. Her impassioned tone seemed to be all the fuel needed to get him past that little lie.
He leaned even closer against her, until there was no doubt he was fully aroused. Emma couldn't look away from the fire leaping in his eyes or the raw stamp of arousal on his face. His hunger matched her own. As he slowly lowered his head, there was no question that he intended to kiss her.
There was no doubt in her mind that she wanted his mouth on hers more than anything else in the world, convincing herself there was nothing wrong with one little kiss. It had been twelve years since Emma had kissed another man and she was curious, that was all.
Apparently Mike was just as curious. Only her mouth wasn't his destination. His hands, which were resting on the curve of her hips, moved to the outside of her arms, his fingertips tickling her as they slowly traveled along her sensitive skin, leaving her covered with goose bumps. Next, they smoothed over Emma's shoulders and collarbone before pausing at her neck. His fingers briefly sliced through her hair before tilting her head to give him better access to her throat.
Emma held her breath with anticipation as he slowly lowered his head, placing his lips along the arch of her throat and nibbling her flesh to the hidden spot behind her ear, down her collarbone and back to the curve of her jaw. She was quite certain that her heart stopped beating. After all, she'd stopped breathing eons ago. Her hands went to his lean hips with the intention of pushing him away but she clutched him closer instead, and just for a moment let herself enjoy the hunger of his body.
Mike's open mouth moved over her throat, pausing to gently suckle a sensitive spot that produced a low moan from Emma. His groan was followed by a shudder as his finally moved toward Emma's lips for the kiss she craved. Her lips parted in anticipation, her breath catching with desire. Then the phone began to ring from the outer room, startling them both. And like guilty teenagers they pulled away from each other.
They were both panting for air and Emma looked everywhere but at Mike. He'd stepped back, but she was intensely aware of his presence. The phone continued to ring, and at this time of night she knew it could only be one person calling. Amanda probably just wanting to make sure she'd made it home okay. She knew her sister wouldn't hang up until she answered, but Emma couldn't move to save her life.
“I'll get that,” Mike said, breaking the silence, turning at the same time.
Thank God, Emma thought, jumping off the vanity top, not surprised to find her legs would barely support her. Then it dawned on her that letting him answer her phone wasn't a very good idea. She found the strength to hurry after him, fully intending to get there before he picked it up.
“No! I'd better get that,” she nearly shouted, startling him into stopping in his tracks as she rushed around him. Reaching for the phone, she turned and shot him a brief smile hoping he'd accept it as an apology for her rudeness.
“Hello?"
“Mom? What's wrong? You're breathing heavy."
Emma rolled her eyes. “Nothing's wrong. I didn't think I'd make it to the phone before you hung up. I was in the, ah, bathroom.” She averted her eyes from Mike, who was still standing there watching her.
“Oh, well I was just calling to make sure you got home okay."
“I'm surprised you have the courage to bring that up, after abandoning me at the party. You've never gone off and left me like that before."
“I, well I..."
A long pause followed and Emma knew Amanda couldn't find the words to vindicate her actions. “Never mind, I think I know why.” She watched Mike make a leisurely walk around her living room, picking up the occasional photo to study it. “But your little scheme backfired, you know, leaving me with a married man to bring me home.” Mike's head swung her way. “Mike was nice enough to..."
“Mike brought you home?” Emma could hear the excitement in Amanda's voice before she had a chance to disguise it. “But, I told you he isn't married..."
“Can we discuss this in the morning? It's late and I was on my way to bed.” Emma gently replaced the receiver after they said goodnight, watching quietly as Mike continued to move about the room. He paused, studying one photo in particular before turning his attention back to her.
The steamy situation that had taken place between them was over, both having had enough time in the last few minutes to regain control and come to their senses. The eyes narrowing on Emma now were those of a detective, hard and speculative. “Amanda's not yours,” he said with quiet emphasis, making his way to her with a photo in his hand.
Emma's glance dropped to the picture. It was an old one, taken when she was only thirteen. She remembered the day clearly. The picture had been taken at a family reunion and she was standing between her mother and father. In her mother's arms, bundled up in a hand crocheted baby blanket of pink was a newborn baby, just the tiniest bit of blonde tuft revealed over the edge of the blanket.
She smiled like always when she looked at that particular picture. It was the last snap shot of them together, taken barely a week before her parents perished in a horrible car accident. Her baby sister, Amanda, had been at home with her that evening. Emma had volunteered to baby sit while her parents had gone out to celebrate their seventeenth wedding anniversary.
Sensing Mike's thoughts might be going in the wrong direction, she quickly assured him. “You can relax, detective, it's not what you think. I didn't kidnap Amanda; she's my sister. I was thirteen in that picture."
“I'd already guessed something like that. But you raised her as your daughter; does she know the truth?"
Emma nodded. “She knows. We lived with an aunt for awhile after the death of our parents. When I married Richard, she came to live with us. I told her the truth when she was old enough to understand, but by that point she'd been calling me Mom for so long she couldn't seem to break the habit."
“So, you and your husband never had kids?"
“No.” But it hadn't been for lack of trying, Emma thought. She'd wanted a baby so badly at one time that it had nearly destroyed their marriage. All the tests had turned up nothing but a low sperm count and then the countless procedures afterwards had ended in failure. After awhile she'd given up.
“Well, you're a lady full of surprises, aren't you?” Mike handed her the photo. “And as much as I'd like to stay and discover a few more of them...” His gaze suddenly narrowed on her but it would be morning before she understood what the look in his eyes meant. “I'm late for a meeting."
Emma had no choice but to follow him to the door, wondering if she'd ever see him again. “Thank you for the ride home, Mike,” she said softly, standing back when he opened the door to leave. “And the doctoring."
In spite of the fall air rushing in, she felt uncomfortably warm when his gaze fell to her thigh. “We never did get around to putting a Band-Aid on that,” he replied.
“I'll take care of it.” There was no way she was going to allow him back to the scene of the crime.
“I guess this is goodnight, then.” His deep voice enveloped her, taking the chill away. The smile in her eyes was met with quiet contemplation. “See you around.” He hesitated and Emma held her breath, but he couldn't very well kiss her goodnight and they both knew it.
After awhile he simply gave a brief nod and turned away.
She waited until he reached his truck before closing and locking the door. With a wistful sigh she flipped off the lights and went to bed, only to dream about an irresistible Zorro with sensual eyes and a mouth to die for.
Chapter 9
The first thing Emma noticed in the mirror the next morning while washing her face was the mark on her neck. Her mouth dropped open and she leaned in closer to examine the purplish bruise, then stood back blushing like a silly schoolgirl as a pleasant warmth enveloped her. Never in her life had she ever had a hickey!
Her thoughts drifted back to the night before, recalling the intimate moment between her and Mike, wondering how far things would have gone if Amanda hadn't called when she had. Would she have found the strength to pull away? She'd never thought of herself as a weak woman but Mike's mouth on her neck had certainly turned her bones to mush and curled her toes.
She ran her finger over the blemish, tingling inside. For a moment she was fascinated with it, until covering it up became a bigger dilemma. There was no way she was going to walk around town, proudly displaying it like a badge of achievement, or something, as Amanda had done once in high school. Small town tongues had a way of turning the smallest incidences into overblown events.
Running a brush through her hair, she tried to arrange it so that it covered the mark. “Oh Lord...” She groaned at her reflection when her hair proved to be ineffective. Maybe makeup would work She opened the medicine cabinet and reached for the base she used, quickly finding out it wasn't dark enough. In the end she opted for a Band-Aid. It didn't cover the whole thing but it would have to do as a temporary fix. She was slipping on a pair of pearl earrings when she heard an all too familiar voice.
“Mom! I'm here."
Emma gave herself one last glance in the mirror before leaving the bathroom. It didn't surprise her to see Amanda closing the front door, since they had a Saturday morning ritual of getting together for breakfast. “Good morning, troublemaker."
“Troublemaker? I don't know what you mean.” However, her smile said she did. “Is that coffee I smell?” She slipped the keys into her pocket, continuing toward the kitchen with the innocent lightheartedness of a five-year-old.
Emma chuckled, right behind her. “Why would this Saturday morning be any different?” She'd already taken the cups out and was reaching for the coffeepot to fill them.
“How long did you stay at the party last night? You look tired,” Amanda observed as she looked at the dark shadows beneath Emma's eyes, knowing she hadn't been able to cover the shadows with makeup.
She hoped that was all Amanda noticed. She was tired because she'd tossed and turned most of the night, thinking about Mike and his darn mouth on her. She woke early in spite of going to bed late, exasperated and if she were completely honest, a wee bit sexually frustrated. Well, maybe more than a wee bit since it had been over two years since she'd had anything more than a handshake from a man.
She began pulling out the ingredients for breakfast, watching Amanda as she walked to the sliding glass door and opened it. Immediately the cool morning air rushed in, filling the room with the crisp freshness of fall. “I didn't sleep well last night.” It was always better to stick as close to the truth as possible. “Do you see Rosy out there yet?"
Amanda turned her gaze in the direction of the crab apple trees that grew down by the lake, shaking her head when she didn't see the deer. “All I see is some boaters out on the lake."
“Fishing no doubt,” Emma said unconsciously, taking a moment to sip at her coffee.
“I go with Troy once in awhile; it's very relaxing. Sometimes he fishes and I just sit back and take in some sun or do a little reading.” She walked back to Emma, and was just about to reach for her coffee when she finally noticed the Band-Aid. Her eyes rounded with mild concern. “What happened to your neck?"
Emma lowered her gaze, pretending to be absorbed in what she was doing, feeling her cheeks grow hot with guilt. She shrugged her shoulders in an attempt at casualness. “A bug must have bitten me while I slept.” The small lie almost stuck in her throat.
“A bug?"
Emma made the mistake of glancing up, seeing the speculation on Amanda's face as she examined the area more thoroughly, probably noticing the discoloration she hadn't been able to cover. She couldn't recall a time when she felt so frustrated, or embarrassed.
“Let me see it; the color looks bad. Maybe it was poisonous.” She started around the island where Emma was grating cheese.
Emma quickly brushed her off, clearing her throat nervously “That's not necessary. Believe me, he wasn't poisonous."
Amanda pounced on her mistake right away. “He?"
“I mean it, the bug."
Sitting back on the stool she'd just vacated, Amanda made an obvious attempt at trying to hide a knowing smile behind her cup and doing a poor job of it. Emma shot her a scowl but remained quiet, knowing she'd only hang herself if she pursued it.
“So, anything, ah, exciting happen last night?” Amanda asked after a few minutes of silence.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. On the way home last night a buck standing in the middle of Bear Lake Road forced us to stop and then someone took a shot at us. Or rather, at the buck.” She had the satisfaction of seeing the knowing smile disappear off Amanda's face. That clearly wasn't the exciting news she was hoping to hear. “But as you can see, I'm okay, so is Mike."
“I was half-asleep when I heard that come across Troy's scanner, and then he took right off. He was gone this morning when I got up so I haven't talked to him. That was you and Mike?” Emma nodded. “God, I'm glad you're both okay. That road is so dark at night."
“Yes, we were lucky. They shot out the window in Mike's truck."
“You're kidding!” Amanda's gaze moved over Emma as if looking for something. “I wonder if the incident was on the morning news."
Emma shrugged, smiling to herself. At least she managed to get Amanda's mind off her bug bite. Anything else she could handle. Only Emma's small triumph was short lived.
“So, ah, what happened after Mike brought you home last night?"
“Nothing.” Emma lied without hesitation, slipping the breakfast casserole in the oven. “Nothing at all. And if you want me to go to the gym with you later today, you'll drop it."
Amanda knew when to shut up, but she couldn't help the huge grin of satisfaction spreading across her pretty face. So far it appeared her matchmaking scheme was working, in spite of Troy's warning that Mike wasn't shopping for female companionship. That might explain Mike's weird idea of letting Emma believe he was married. Still, that alone was a clear indication he was attracted to her and was using that to keep a wedge between them. Amanda was positive Mike and Emma were perfect for each other. They just needed a little push in the right direction. She'd made sure Mike saw her leaving with Troy the night before, knowing he'd offer to take Emma home.
Sipping quietly at her coffee, she squinted at the Band-Aid on Emma's neck. She wasn't stupid. She knew her sister was trying to hide a hickey. Emma wasn't immune to Mike either if she let him get that close so soon after their second arranged meeting. All Amanda had to do now was come up with more ideas on how to get them together.
Maybe Melissa could help in some way...
* * * *
Mike cast his line out for the umpteenth time that day, wondering why he wasn't having any luck. He usually went home with a couple of big ones that he and Melissa would have for dinner that night. There was nothing better than fresh bass fried in beer batter. However, something was definitely off. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach at what that something was. Or rather, somebody.
It came in the form of one shapely, troublesome female. He glanced toward the shoreline and beyond, where Emma's townhouse was located. Was that her on her patio? He squinted even more but the sun bouncing off the water nearly blinded him. Grumbling with annoyance, he reached for his baseball cap, slamming it down on his head.
Why couldn't he get her out of his mind?
Dumb question, Mike, he said to himself. Admit it old man, Emma is beautiful, charming, has a sense of humor and she'd gotten to him quicker that any other woman he knew. Being sexy didn't hurt either. For the first time in a long time he began to worry that maybe he didn't have what it took to stick with his game plan. The five years he'd given himself suddenly seemed like a hundred.
His mind kept drifting back to the night before, in Emma's bathroom. If Amanda hadn't phoned when she had Mike knew without a doubt he would have made love to Emma in every sense of the word. Moreover, his gut told him she wouldn't have protested. Emma didn't seem like the kind of woman who slipped into a man's bed casually, but there'd definitely been something happening between them stronger than either of them. A certain chemistry that had chipped away at their self control.
He recalled how badly he'd wanted to kiss her. But at the time, afraid of the intensity of his feelings, he'd opted for the graceful line of her throat instead. Hoping the detour would slow him down. Praying for control. Now he was sorry he hadn't kissed her because he could still feel her against him, still recall her light fragrance. Instead of making Emma his, he'd left his mark on her for the whole damn town to see. He wondered what she thought about that this morning.
Taking a deep breath, he narrowed his gaze on the woman walking toward the pier, instinct telling him it was Emma. From this distance Mike couldn't tell what she was doing, only that she was alone. He closed his eyes, willingly following the road to insanity as he pictured her in the harem outfit. In his mind he could see himself slowly peeling it off her delectable body and kissing every inch of her while doing it. He had to stop this madness. He opened his eyes again to the brightness of the morning. He was a fool for daydreaming about a woman he didn't intend getting involved with.
Feeling a nibble on his line, Mike gave it a sharp tug and started to reel, coming up empty handed again as the fish got away with the bait. Hell, at this rate he might as well dump the whole bucket of night crawlers into the lake. He set his rod to the side, opening the cooler for a beer. Two left, he'd have to head back soon. He popped the top and brought it to his lips, taking a long swallow.
Movement from the bank drew his attention there again and he realized someone had joined Emma. He strained to see, determining by the build it was a man. Emma had moved off the pier and from Mike's viewpoint it looked like they were arguing. When he saw the man put his hands on her, Mike tossed his half-empty beer aside and started the outboard motor. As he turned the boat for shore and moved closer, fear for Emma churned in his gut when he saw the man slap her across the face.
* * * *
“Hit me harder, Elliot,” Emma ordered, automatically bracing herself for the blow. He was supposed to be her abusive husband and she knew if he didn't get over his fear of hurting her, all the rehearsing in the world wouldn't make the scene seem real. And the theater was counting on the success of this production, as all the others, to keep its doors open.
The look on Elliot's face warned Emma he was struggling with himself. They'd only been friends for two years, ever since answering an ad for actors in the town newspaper, and joining the small production company. During lunch one day after a rehearsal he'd confessed that his father had been physically abusive towards his mother, so she knew him well enough to know he abhorred violence of any kind, especially when it was directed towards women.
“We've devoted two years to building up interest in the old theater downtown; do you want all our hard work to be for nothing?” She enjoyed the small bit parts she was given and would hate to see the theatre doors closed again.
“I'm afraid to hurt you,” he said, holding back with real worry in his brown eyes. “It goes against my nature to strike a woman."
“You're not going to punch me; just give me a harder slap so that it looks real.” She stiffened her posture. “Now hit me again. I can take it."
Pressing his lips, Elliot hit her, this time so hard that Emma's head snapped back and real tears sprang to her eyes. He rushed to her side immediately. “I'm sorry! I didn't mean to..."
“Don't touch me you, you ... jerk!” Emma screeched, staying in character when it was obvious Elliot hadn't. She hoped he took the hint. If he thought for a minute he'd really hurt her, they'd never make it through the scene, much less the brief parts they had. That is if they got to do it since they were both understudies for the real actors. She squared her shoulders, encouraged by the look of gradual dawning in his eyes. “My mother always said you were no good. I should have listened to her. If you ever hit me again..."
“You'll do what? Run home to daddy?” He raised his hand high, fully intending to strike her down as the part called for him to do. Emma screamed and turned to run but he reached out, snagging her shirt and yanking her back into his arms. Both their eyes grew round at the sound of tearing seams but Elliot kept on with the scene. “You bitch! Just where do you think you're going?"
“Let me go!” Emma screamed, trying not to laugh. Hearing him swear struck her funny bone because Elliot never swore.
He backhanded her, careful not to overdo it this time. “Daddy won't be able to save...” Emma watched his eyes fill with stark terror before he released her and turned to run in the opposite direction.
“Elliot?” This was definitely not in the script. He was running as if his life depended on it. She watched him almost stumble to the ground, then disappear around the corner of the house. She turned around to see what had frightened him. “Mike?” she gasped softly. What was he doing there?
Her gaze took in the boat behind him. She and Elliot had been so engrossed in their parts, they hadn't heard him approach the pier. He was racing in their direction like a locomotive out of control. His face was twisted with rage and the closer he got the more it began to dawn on Emma what was going through his mind. He looked primed to kill, and she sensed real fear that if he caught up to Elliot that's exactly what he would do. She purposely stepped into his path, hoping to stop him.
“Mike, stop!” she cried, holding her arms out as though to halt his progress. He started to side step her but Emma followed his movements, practically throwing her body at him. She realized immediately it wasn't her brightest move but all she could think of was stopping him. At the last second he pulled up but it was too late. A whoosh rushed from her and a grunt escaped him as their bodies collided and he bore her backwards to the ground.
For a moment Emma saw stars. The force of his body slamming into her knocked the wind out of her and she could only lie there, gasping painfully in an effort to fill her lungs. An impossible feat considering he was on top of her. As panic set in she began to squirm, hoping to get her message across. Something worked because he suddenly rolled away and she was able to suck in a mouthful of air.
He was panting wildly too. “What ... the hell ... were ... you thinking ... of?” Sprawled on his back, his chest heaved up and down rapidly. “I ... could have ... killed you."
“I'm ... sorry..."
“Sorry? Hell ... Emma, never get in the ... line of fire ... no matter what's coming at you. I was running after ... your friend,” he said sarcastically. “The one who ... was knocking you around."
“That's why I wanted to stop you.” She breathed a little easier now. “Elliot's a friend."
“It didn't look like that from where I was standing."
Smiling against her will, Emma explained softly, “We were rehearsing a part for a play. Elliot plays my abusive, skirt chasing husband."
Mike gradually rolled to his side so he could peer down at her. “You're kidding.” His tone clearly said he didn't believe what he was hearing.
Emma's gaze went back and forth between his eyes to his mouth as she slowly shook her head, confirming it. She couldn't help it; he had such a sensuous mouth. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, although I'll probably never see Elliot again. He probably won't stop running until he crosses the state line."
“Oh God.” Mike fell back with a snort of disgust. “That will teach me to jump to conclusions. When I saw him strike you...” He quickly cut himself off as though afraid of what he'd been about to divulge. “I hit you like a quarterback making a tackle. Are you okay?"
Emma closed her eyes, chuckling softly. “I think every bone in my body is broken but otherwise I'm great.” So far she hadn't moved from her position.
“Do I need to feel for broken bones?"
Her eyes bolted open at his remark, her breath catching at his closeness. She hadn't heard him move, but he was leaning over her again, only closer this time. His eyes were making a lazy sweep down her front, and she self-consciously reached up to make sure none of the buttons on her shirt had come undone.
His sexy grin made a slow burn sweep through her body. When his gaze lingered on her throat Emma knew without a doubt his eyes were focused on the Band-Aid. “Try it detective and you might end up with a few broken bones yourself,” she threatened softly, her heart fluttering in her throat at just the thought of Mike touching her. “Or at the very least another black eye."
“I've delivered babies."
“Yeah, well, I'm not buying that line again. I think you made it up just to, to..."
“Get inside your pants?” he asked outrageously, his face breaking out in a full-fledged grin that took her breath away all over again.
The sensual warmth of his voice awakened Emma's senses, making her aware of just how much she was attracted to him. She was mesmerized by the transformation on his face, he looked younger and less threatening when he smiled, almost boyish. The thought crossed her mind she'd like to knock that baseball cap off his head and tangle her fingers through his uncombed hair, just to see how he'd react.
Before she realized it, she was doing just that. She reached up, only instead of knocking his hat off she gently pulled it off, placing it on her stomach. Avoiding his eyes because she knew she'd lose her nerve, she slowly raised her hand, brushing the hair back from his brow before threading her fingers through the rich thickness. Silk, just like she thought.
“Emma?"
“Hmm?"
“What are you doing?"
Her eyes moved from watching the movement of her hand to meet the smoldering intensity in his eyes. She caught her breath. The hunger stamped on his expression was exciting, yet frightening. What was she doing? It wasn't like her to take the initiative with a man. Still, the need to kiss him became so overpowering that nothing short of an earthquake was going to stop her. She didn't care about the consequences.
The hand in Mike's hair tightened and her gaze lowered to his lips, ever so slowly guiding his head down to hers. “If you want me to stop, you'd better tell me now, detective, otherwise I'm going to kiss you,” she purred, just inches from his mouth. She moved until she was close enough to feel his lips curve into a lazy smile against hers.
“I believe that's my line."
Chapter 10
Just as Mike was about to press his mouth more firmly to Emma's and take the kiss she was offering, the same one he'd been dreaming about since that first morning in her living room, a commotion ruined the moment, causing him to jerk back. He glanced up just as a huge black dog raced around the corner of the house, being chased by two laughing little boys shouting and making enough racket to break the sound barrier. Almost immediately an elderly couple, arm in arm, followed close behind them.
“Looks like we have company,” he stated, watching them for a moment before lowering his gaze back to Emma. The little witch, she was smiling, those doe like eyes filled with mirth as if she'd known all along they'd been about to be interrupted. He had a mind to kiss her anyway, but decided the interruption couldn't have come at a better moment. Kissing her wouldn't keep him from wanting her any less. In fact, if he didn't do something soon to get her out of his system, he was going to end up in the nut house. Lately it appeared fate, that entity he'd mocked at the Halloween party, kept tossing them together.
A more logical explanation was that someone, more specifically Amanda, had a hand in it. Yet Mike dismissed that thought just as quickly, doubting she'd talked Emma into moving to the very lake he fished on every weekend just because she knew some of his habits. The smell of mint reached his nostrils, bringing his attention back to the present. It took a second before he recognized it was coming from Emma's mouth. The scent was inviting, making him hungry to taste it on her lips. On second thought, maybe a kiss would do the trick; with a little luck she'd be a horrible kisser. Only he wasn't about to put it to the test there in front of playing children.
“That was close,” she teased in the face of his disappointment. “Good thing we were interrupted. I'm sorry Mike. For a moment I'd forgotten you're married. I'm not in the habit of..."
“So you keep saying,” he all but snapped back, frustration getting the better of him. That and the realization it was his own damn fault. It was on the tip of his tongue to spit out the truth but he held back, rolling to his feet. He offered his hand for assistance, his gaze traveling to where the boys were playing near the edge of the water with their dog.
The older couple, probably the grandparents, was keeping a watchful eye on everyone, just waiting for an opportunity to say something. He couldn't blame them. Kids got enough sex and violence on TV these days. They didn't need to see it in their own backyards. It wasn't going to be hard disappointing them from having to say something. Mike wasn't much into public displays. When he kissed a woman, other than the occasional peck on the cheek he bestowed on his mother or daughter, or the sloppy uncle kisses he gave his nieces, he liked privacy. Kissing a woman he desired usually led to other things and he wasn't some oversexed stud who couldn't keep it in his pants. He was disciplined enough to keep his head, yet there was always a first time of losing control.
Emma had the ingredients to drive him crazy. She had a lot of traits that until now Mike hadn't known he was looking for in a woman. Most of the time he let his male urges rule his taste in mates, causing him to fall for the over zealous, shallow types who quickly revealed their true colors when he took them home for the first time. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been interested in a woman with wholesome qualities.
“Thank you,” she breathed in that smoky voice of hers, putting her small hand in his.
Her light touch sent an electrical sensation up the length of Mike's arm, but he forced himself to ignore it and gently tugged her to her feet. Underestimating the distance, he yanked too hard, causing her to slam into him, and crushing his hat between them. Only it wasn't his hat he noticed but Emma's soft, round breast against his chest.
His gaze shot down to where the material was parted at her throat and below, to the deep cleavage which revealed where a button had come undone. Her scent assaulted his senses and for the second time Mike was close enough to breathe in the fresh mint on her breath. It angered him that his body was so quick to react to her nearness.
“I'm sorry, Mike.” Emma laughed, pulling his hat out from between their bodies.
“That's okay,” he began, reshaping it before slapping it on his head. He stepped back out of necessity, watching her brush off the back of her jeans. There were leaves in her disheveled hair. Without thinking, he reached forward and began plucking them out. Their eyes met and held and suddenly his hand halted.
Her tongue came out, gliding over her bottom lip. Mike felt like he'd been sucker punched. “It's not going to happen,” he said in a low, rigid voice as he lowered his arm. The best thing he could do was turn around and walk away. Better yet, move out of the whole damn state.
“What's not going to happen?” Emma questioned innocently, the warmth of a light blush spreading across her cheeks.
“We're not going to happen,” he said with stronger conviction, trying to convince himself as much as her. She was not going to get to him.
He'd had it with women and relationships that went nowhere once they realized he came with a kid. Mike wasn't going to hurt Melissa that way again, no matter how horny he got. Even as he thought it, he figured he wasn't being fair, lumping Emma in with the whole female race. He stepped back even further, squaring his shoulders as if that alone gave him the power to remain strong. “I have..."
“There he is, officer!"
The sound of panic in a voice always drew Mike's attention and he swung around, not surprised to see Elliot and a cop in uniform striding directly towards them. He'd been expecting it. As he made eye contact with Pete, who was following close behind Elliot, his mouth twitched with wry amusement at the completely different expressions on the two men's faces. Pete raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders in question. Elliot's face was pink, the indignation in his eyes visible only because he had backup with him.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Elliot gave Mike a dirty look, walking straight to Emma.
It shouldn't have, but the sound of a another man calling Emma sweetie rubbed Mike the wrong way, making him want to reach out and pop Elliot in the mouth. He doubted it would take much to wipe that pompous look off his face and shut him up. If there was one thing Mike didn't have the patience for, it was a gushing pretty boy out to make himself look good in front of a woman.
When Elliot put his hands on Emma and pulled her behind him as though to protect her, Mike literally saw red. Where the hell did he come off? A few minutes ago he'd gone running from there with his tail tucked between his legs, leaving her in a cloud of dust. His concern for her came a little too late as far as he was concerned. His gaze skipped over Elliot's shoulder, meeting Emma's eyes, scowling at the humor he saw lurking in their pretty depths. That she was thoroughly enjoying the situation was evident on her pleased expression.
“Arrest him officer,” Elliot insisted, giving Mike a look he would have probably thought twice about had it just been the two of them.
“Elliot, I'm okay, it's not what you..."
“Arrest me for what, frightening you?” Mike returned, having the satisfaction of seeing Elliot's face pale. “Maybe I'll arrest you for striking Emma, or at the very least for abandoning her when you saw me coming."
“I-I went for help,” he stammered in defense, actually taking a step back so that Emma was between him and Mike.
“For yourself. It's a little late for chivalry,” Mike snarled, disgusted at Elliot's chickenhearted move.
“Boys..."
Boys? It had been a damn long time since anyone, including his mother, had referred to him as a boy. Crossing his arms, he narrowed his gaze on Emma long enough to make her visibly uncomfortable.
“Is that a challenge?” he asked softly. He watched her cheeks turning crimson when his gaze lowered to her mouth. Mike discovered he enjoyed making Emma blush. She had an innocence about her that made her seem years younger. Furthermore, he knew it wasn't a come on to get him to notice her, unlike some women who could turn their emotions on and off as easy as a faucet. With her it came natural. She lowered her face, breaking eye contact with him for a moment, before peering up at him from beneath the heavy sweep of thick lashes. The hunger in her eyes couldn't be disguised.
“That sounds like a threat, officer,” Elliot stated, quickly stepping in front of Emma as though offering his slight weight as a shield. “It's a good thing you got here when you did too. Emma has a hand print on her cheek,” he remarked, forgetting he'd been the one to put it there.
A chuckle escaped her. “Elliot..."
“She also has a bruise on her neck,” Mike pointed out with deep meaning in his eyes, watching as her hand automatically went up to where the Band-Aid should have been, only to discover it was gone. Her eyes widened expressively.
“What?” Elliot swung around so he could get a better look at what Mike was referring to. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what the purple mark on her neck meant and he glanced back at Mike with wild anger in his eyes. “You, you molested her!” he accused.
Mike burst out laughing; he couldn't help it. And he was sure he heard Pete release a low snicker before cutting it short when Elliot's eyes shot his way.
“Elliot ... stop it,” Emma said, trying to suppress her own giggle. She grabbed his arm to get his attention. “Mike didn't do anything to me; this whole thing has been a great big misunderstanding."
That was putting it mildly, Mike thought, bringing his laughter under control, barely. It didn't help when he caught the gleam of humor in Emma's eyes, realizing she was struggling with her own lack of restraint.
“What's going on, Mike?” Pete finally injected, making an obvious effort not to grin again.
Mike took a deep breath, quickly giving Pete a brief run down. He glanced at Elliot long enough to see dawning fill his eyes. Mike wondered if there was more going on between him and Emma than just rehearsing for some play; it certainly seemed a possibility if he was reading the other man right. It was none of his business if she liked younger men. Yet what she saw in a pretty boy like Elliot...
Pete nodded, turning his attention back to Emma. “Sorry for all the confusion, ma'am."
Her grin was split from ear to ear, the familiarity in her tone indicating she recognized Pete. “That's okay, officer, it's not every day I have two men fighting over me,” she teased with a wink.
“Well, if that's the case, maybe you'd better pick one so the other will know where he stands. That way I can leave here and not worry about being called back."
“Don't forget we have to rehearse,” Elliot was quick to point out, making sure everyone present knew he had a legitimate reason for staying.
“That's okay, Pete, I'll make it easy for the lady. I've got some fishing to do.” Mike forced a smile for everyone's benefit. It wasn't easy to do when his gut was churning with something akin to dread at leaving Emma and Elliot alone together. Not normally a jealous man, he knew the feeling enveloping him could only be the green-eyed beast.
“Thank you again for coming to my defense."
She had no idea how sensuous her voice sounded. “My pleasure,” he returned, beginning to back up. “See ya around.” It was the same phrase he'd murmured the night before.
As he walked away, Mike could hear Pete saying that he'd be on his way too.
Since he hadn't taken the time to tie his boat to the dock, Mike was forced to wade into the cold water for it. Mumbling beneath his breath, he was soaked to the waist before he was able to climb aboard. As he began to row away from shore, his gaze shot to where Emma and Elliot were watching Pete disappear around the corner of the building, and then Emma turned and directed those hard-to-forget eyes at him. Even from this distance he could see the look of disappointment on her pretty face. Damn, how much longer was he going to be able to keep up the charade?
Not much longer, he mumbled beneath his breath. Which was why he was going to make sure they didn't run into each other again.
Chapter 11
“Oh God, shoot me now and put me out of my misery!” Emma gasped, collapsing ungracefully onto the blue mat and closing her eyes in agony. She released a loud groan, throwing her arms out with exhaustion and praying no one stepped on them. She hadn't realized how out of shape she was. An hour on the treadmill, half hour on the bicycle, but it was the twenty long minutes on the stair master that had finally done her in. They'd been the longest minutes of her life.
“It will get easier,” Amanda promised, keeping in step with the aerobics instructor.
Emma could detect the grin in Amanda's voice but was too tired to return it. “That's what you said last week about the bicycle,” she reminded her. “Wake me in a few hundred years.” She was hotter than heck, plucking the clinging spandex away from her body in order to let in a small gratifying amount of cool air. She moaned in absolute misery, thankful the music booming through the room was loud enough to drown her out.
“You look great in that outfit,” Amanda commented, sounding pleased with herself.
Having serious doubts about Amanda's statement, Emma curved her mouth into a frown. She'd finally given in, letting Amanda talk her into shopping for a new gym outfit. The rose color looked good on her but she wasn't sure it was the look she was going for, in spite of Amanda's enthusiasm. The material was too clingy for her tastes, outlining every curve and not leaving much to the imagination, although it covered her from her shoulders to knees.
“What kind of exercise is that?"
“I'm exercising my brain,” Emma responded with a half smile, recognizing Troy's voice above her. She was too tired to open her eyes.
“Mom used the stairmaster for the first time today,” Amanda explained, stopping long enough to give him a quick kiss on the lips.
“Do I need to find someone to give her mouth to mouth?” he teased. “Or do I call for an ambulance?"
Emma opened one eye to glare at Amanda's future husband. He was apparently serious about his workouts and was drenched in sweat, his blonde hair darker where it was plastered to his head. He was smiling down at her, deep dimples apparent at both sides of his mouth. “Cute. All I need is a little break."
“Why don't you get into the hot tub? That's the perfect thing for those sore muscles."
The hot tub, now why hadn't she thought of that? It sounded like heaven. Emma hadn't been in it since joining the gym, opting for the steam room instead. Maybe Troy was on to something. She made a half-hearted attempt at getting up, grunting with exhaustion before falling back onto the mat.
“Here, let me help you.” Troy laughed, holding out his hand. “Do I need to walk you to the tub and help you in, too?” He continued in a joking voice, giving Amanda a wink.
Emma glared threateningly at him after letting him tug her to her feet. “Keep it up, son, and you'll need help,” she snorted, turning her back to them. “I'll meet you in the steam room in a few minutes,” she added, making it clear to Amanda that she was done for the day.
* * * *
Mike quietly watched Emma leave the room, picking up speed until he was at a full run on the treadmill. He'd spied her the minute he walked into the room, unable to stop himself from running his eyes along the shapely length of her as she lay panting on the mat. A grin covered his face before he remembered she was the last woman he wanted to see, much less be near. She was too damn appealing. And if it wasn't bad enough that fate seemed to be constantly throwing them together, he was dreaming about her now. Dreams that had gotten out of control the night before, turning into one steamy fantasy that caused him to wake with a full blown hard on. Hell, he'd lain there for a good hour, trying to cool down the fire in his blood.
The fact that Emma seemed just as attracted to him wasn't helping matters any. Mike knew all it would take to send them down the path of no return would be to inform her there was no missus. The sweat began to run down his scalp toward his eyes. He wiped it off with the towel around his neck, cursing himself for letting his mind wander.
Setting the treadmill as fast as he could run, he forced himself to think about something else. The play Melissa had talked him into going with her to that evening was as good a subject as any. The local schools in the area had joined the historic society and were on a hell bent mission of saving the old theater building on the edge of town. Their solution to bringing it back to life was putting on a series of plays, which would bring in the extra money they needed to pay for the refurbishing.
She'd rattled off several familiar titles but the play scheduled that evening was special, she'd said with excitement. The drama club at school had written it, and she was in the drama club. Mike supposed a little culture wouldn't hurt him. Lord knew he didn't get enough in his line of work. Nonetheless, he'd warned Melissa to forget about the suit she'd tried to persuade him to wear. He wasn't a Ken doll. A pair of dress slacks and a nice shirt would have to do. They'd fought about it briefly but in the end Mike had won.
His gaze shot to the clock and he flipped off the treadmill, foregoing warming down. It was all he had time for. He wanted to hit the hot tub before showering and heading for home. That was just what he needed to help him wind down from a long day. However, when he rounded the corner to where the hot tub was located, he came to an abrupt halt, disbelieving his luck.
* * * *
With her head back and her eyes closed in lazy meditation, Emma smiled at the ridiculous notion of trying to convince herself she was skiing on a snow capped mountain and not slowly boiling in a pot of water. She supposed that would defeat the purpose anyhow. Although the aches and pains of a few moments ago were diminishing, her blood pressure had surely shot sky high.
“You know, it's dangerous falling asleep in there."
Her heart gave a little jump but she preferred to think it was due to the exercises she'd been doing and not the unexpected sound of Mike's sexy baritone. She knew it was just a matter of time before they ran into each other again. Opening both eyes to his larger than life presence, she saw him standing directly across from her, his thick muscular thighs braced apart in a stance that reminded her of the dominant pose of a Viking hero she'd seen on the cover of some romance novel. The gray shorts resembled boxers, dark in some places where he'd been sweating, and clinging to a part of his body that proved he was definitely not lacking in male attributes.
“I wasn't sleeping,” she clarified with a half smile, thinking how close she'd been to it, though. Her gaze traveled a lazy path up Mike's torso, taking in the way his damp tank top outlined his broad chest and accentuated his muscular arms. She continued until finally reaching his laughing eyes. “Are you coming or going?” she asked, wondering why she hadn't seen him exercising earlier.
“I'm on my way to the, ah, steam room,” he said after a brief hesitation. “You know you're supposed to wear a bathing suit in there, don't you?"
Emma grew uncomfortable beneath his cocky grin. She was already hot, yet his expression, the sensual look in his eyes as they took in her clinging outfit, made her even warmer. She tried to control the erratic beating of her heart.
“Sorry, I'm not up on hot tub etiquette yet.” And she'd forgotten her swimsuit. Deciding she'd been in long enough, she began to wade to the steps. “I'm getting out anyway. I feel cooked enough."
“You do look a little over done,” he agreed, stepping aside as she glided up the steps like a mythical sea nymph. Meeting his eyes, Emma had an odd feeling that Mike wasn't saying exactly what was on his mind. The bold look in his silent inspection told her he liked what he saw, very much. She was mortified when she felt her nipples peak, convincing herself it was the cool air hitting them. His gaze was drawn to them like a magnet and she held her breath, but he only looked for a second.
They both reached simultaneously for the towel she'd draped over the rail, their hands accidentally touching. Emma drew back, releasing a gasp that seemed to echo off the tiled walls. Mike snatched the towel almost angrily, holding it out to her. The sudden spark in his eyes mesmerized her. “Thanks,” she murmured, clutching the towel to the front of her as though it offered some form of protection. “I guess I'll go get my shower.” She took a step on the slippery tile, her leg shooting out from under her. “Oh!” Realizing there was nothing she could do to stop from going down, she braced herself before hitting the floor.
“I've got you!” Mike's voice was low and deep, warmly intimate as he caught Emma against his chest. His hands curled around the flesh of her upper arms the same time her arms came up between them, her hands flattening against his chest. She felt his heart beating beneath her palms, the rhythm matching the erratic tempo of her pulse.
Tilting her head enough to peer into his eyes, she exclaimed, “Goodness! I seem to be accident-prone lately and it seems you're always there to rescue me. You must be getting tired of this."
Her comment was followed by a nervous laugh but all Mike did was stare down at her. He was too much aware of her against him. Even with a towel between them he could feel the heat of her body. His will power to ignore her had come to an end. He'd wanted to kiss that mouth of hers since the beginning and as God was his witness he was going to do so now. Besides, what harm could one little kiss do? It didn't mean anything. And maybe tasting Emma would put an end to the constant ache of wanting to.
He heard her breath catch but it didn't keep him from slowly lowering his head, watching her eyes flare with feminine surprise the closer he moved. He hesitated, sensing she wanted to ask him something, wondering if she'd have the courage.
“What are you doing?” The humor in those damn eyes of hers was spilling over, making her that much more appealing to him.
Her soft voice seemed over loud in the small room. Mike watched her tongue sweep across her bottom lip, the action firing his blood with lust. The next sound echoing off the tiles was his low groan as he gave into a need so strong that it rendered him out of control. Before he realized it, he was pulling Emma with him until he had her back against the wall and his body flush against hers. His gaze blazed down into hers. He would have stopped then and there if he hadn't noticed her pupils dilate with a hunger just as powerful as his.
Her mouth parted and that was all the invitation he needed.
“Something I've been wanting to do for a long time,” he said, breathing hoarsely just before slanting his mouth over hers in a kiss that was every bit as sweet as it was savage.
Passion ignited like wildfire on a summer day, fast and furious it consumed them. As the sounds of their mutual desire echoed through the room, Emma opened her mouth to his thrusting tongue, melting against him with a moan of pleasure. Her sweet sound of surrender urged Mike into deepening the kiss, feeding the hunger that raced through his blood. As his mouth moved hungrily over hers, his body leapt to life, testing Emma's willingness by thrusting against her. She'd have to be dead or indifferent not to notice he was aroused. Her response told him she was neither. When her arms slowly encircled his neck, he released a low groan of approval, praying she knew what she was doing when she arched the lower half of her body against him in silent demand for more.
In spite of that, as much as it turned him on, it scared him more, bringing him back to his senses and reality quicker than as if a gun had gone off because he wanted Emma in the most raw and basic way. What's more he wanted her now, against the wall, on the floor, he didn't care. He didn't know where he found the strength to tear his mouth from hers. Leaning his forehead against the softness of hers, he took in a ragged breath.
“Emma ... this isn't ... very wise,” he rasped between breaths. He couldn't control the unexpected shudder racking his aroused body.
“I believe you're the one who initiated it, detective,” she replied in a slightly breathless whisper. “I'm innocent,” she teased, moving against him.
“I'm not a very smart man,” he countered, still struggling for control. “And you're far from innocent, honey.” When Emma's tongue darted out to caress his upper lip, it was the straw that broke the camel's back. His heart slammed against his ribs, his limbs shuddering as if in the throes of a powerful orgasm. “Emma ... Emma...” he whispered regretfully, tilting his head to run his open mouth against the side of her smooth neck.
She cried out, arching into his roaming mouth while encouraging him to continue. Mike didn't need any encouragement, using his teeth, tongue and lips to turn her into a wild and sensuous woman in his arms. One who conveyed the message that she wanted him with every little gasp and movement of her twisting body. Her hands smoothed over his shoulders with urgency.
“Mike!” she gasped, when he moved against a particularly sensitive spot behind her ear. His hands moved to her hips, sliding over the rounded curves of her buttocks.
“Oops! Sorry, I'll come back."
Mike stiffened upon hearing Amanda's voice behind him but didn't move, wanting to shield Emma as much as possible from her sister's prying eyes. When he sensed Amanda had gone, he took a deep breath, stepping away from Emma. His gaze moved over her glowing face, not missing the bright excitement flickering in her eyes and pleased that he'd been the one to put it there.
“Well,” Emma began with breathless wonder, a little smile on her swollen, trembling mouth.
Mike responded with a slow grin of his own. “That's not exactly the kind of response I'm looking for after kissing you breathless,” he joked, laughing softly.
“Then how about, wow!” she offered, barely able to meet his eyes.
“Better.” His lips quirked, giving her more room. “You can move away from the wall now."
“No, I can't."
He frowned. “Are you okay?"
“I can't feel my legs,” Emma admitted, her full-blown smile saying more than words. Mike turned away before he gave into the urge to plant another one on her.
One harmless little kiss? That kiss had rocked his world and he was still reeling from the impact. There was nothing harmless about Emma, or his immediate response to her. “You pack a serious punch, lady.” He didn't look at her until he felt he'd moved a safe enough distance away. “And before you go sprouting off something about the morals of a married man kissing another woman..."
“I know you're not married, Mike,” she admitted, catching him by surprise. “I've known since the Halloween party.” There wasn't a trace of remorse in her amused tone.
Amanda must have told her. Mike swung around, not sure how he felt over her admission. Her laughing eyes still showed signs of arousal, the healthy color in her face giving her a radiance he rarely took note of in a woman he'd just kissed the daylights out of. He supposed that was because when he usually kissed a woman with that much intensity, it generally led to making love.
“Then why did you throw it in my face every time things got a little, ah, interesting?” he asked, trying to curtail his growing anger. “Or did pretending I was married make you feel safer?"
“Actually I think it made you feel safer,” Emma retorted, crossing her arms in an unconscious gesture of defiance. “You're the one who let me go on believing you were married, Mike. Why? Is that how you control your relationships? If you're not interested in a woman you're suddenly married?"
Mike didn't like where their conversation was going, partly because Emma was right. Only he hadn't realized it until now. He'd never used his marital status as a means to control his relationships before. But a desperate man took desperate measures and that's what he was. He'd use anything to aid him in not getting romantically, much less emotionally involved with anyone right now. However, there was one misconception he refused to let Emma continue believing. He walked back to her at a leisurely pace.
“You're wrong about one thing, Emma. If I let you believe I was married, it wasn't because I'm not interested in you. The truth is I'm too damn interested!"
She flinched at the sharpness of his tone, holding her ground as he closed the distance between them. Remembering the passion they'd shared and how fast things had escalated, he halted, self-preservation kicking in. He knew it wouldn't take much incentive to kiss her again, or more. And on the scale between one and ten his will power was at two and still dropping.
“That's an interesting style you have, detective,” she acknowledged softly. “Tell me, if you're attracted to a woman, how does that work? Most decent women I know wouldn't let a married man get within a foot of her if she sensed he wanted something other than friendship."
He couldn't help it. He reached forward and toyed with a damp curl resting on her forehead. With a life of its own it curled like a ribbon of shimmering silk around his finger. “It's too soon to know how it works, since this is the first time I've used it,” he confessed matter-of-factly.
“Why?"
“You really want to know?"
“Yes, Mike,” she said without hesitation. “I really want to know."
His eyes were on the hair he was casually twirling around his finger, until her soft response drew his attention. He stopped what he was doing, focusing on her lovely, confused eyes for a moment before deciding she deserved to know the truth. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.
“Because I'm lousy at relationships,” he began regretfully, releasing her hair. “And Melissa's the one who gets hurt in the end. Right now my focus in life is just surviving her teenage years. So no matter how much I want you Emma, it's not going to happen."
Before he made himself out to be a liar, he turned and walked away.
Chapter 12
“I can't do it!” Emma insisted not for the first time, backing up when it became obvious that Teresa Bates wasn't going to take no for an answer. “I didn't rehearse for that part."
Teresa, who was in charge of producing the show and well known for her bulldog tactics when it came to getting her own way, didn't hesitate to use them on Emma, who was quickly backing her way into a corner. “You have to sweetie, there's no one else.” Teresa declared firmly. “You'll be great. And it's a very short piece."
Emma shook her head vigorously. “I can't! I don't know anything about Lola's part. I was the understudy for the abused wife, remember?” She shot a nervous glance around the room, her eyes pleading for help from the other actors present. She wanted the play to be successful too but she wasn't about to go out there and make a fool of herself.
“I thought you said you support the theater,” Teresa reminded her, sounding almost tearful, but Emma wasn't buying it. “Sandy eloped this afternoon and left us high and dry."
“That's not my fault,” Emma said, her back against the wall, literally. “What about her understudy?” She glanced at the sea of faces crowding around her, wondering who that was.
“That would be me,” someone rasped in a barely audible whisper. Melanie Rice stepped forward, her hand at her throat and her nose as red as a cherry. Her expression was apologetic. “I came down with a bad cold yesterday and I always lose my voice, sorry,” she explained in a sad little voice.
Emma took a deep breath, returning her gaze to Teresa. “I can't,” she insisted stiffly. “The play starts in an hour and...” She hesitated, looking for an ally. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for her final decision. Even Elliot was looking at her with big puppy dog eyes, silently pleading with her to say yes. Her gaze landed on another understudy. “What about Mary?"
Someone laughed out loud before quickly cutting it short behind their palm. “The part calls for a, ah, younger woman,” Teresa said, shooting the sixty-year-old Mary a look of regret.
“Tessa?” Emma said hopefully, glancing at the first grade school teacher who was a little on the plump side.
“She won't fit into the costume,” Teresa quickly explained, ruling her out.
Her eyes shot to the quiet, little bookworm with mousy brown hair and large thick glasses. “Joy?"
Teresa shook her head negatively. “Doesn't have the right look,” Teresa said. “If we want this play to be taken seriously, we need the right people in the right parts."
Emma's brows furrowed. She was beginning to get a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her she was losing ground. She couldn't let everyone down. They were all watching her with pitiful looks in their eyes and dejected expressions on their faces. In spite of her fears, she knew, and Teresa knew, that it was just a matter of time before she caved.
“There's no way I'll have time to study the script,” she began. The sigh of relief from the group was like a canon going off and suddenly everyone was disappearing back inside their dressing rooms, assuming the problem was solved.
“You can ad-lib.” Teresa smiled, taking Emma by the arm and dragging her away from the wall. “It's a stereotype part, a piece of cake. All you have to do is follow Donald's lead since all your lines are with him."
Donald's lead? In studying the abused housewife part Emma hadn't concerned herself with the other characters in the play. “Just what is Lola's part?” she asked suspiciously. She became worried when Teresa suddenly looked away, glancing down at her feet as if she'd find the answer there.
“Teresa?” she urged, the sick feeling in her stomach intensifying.
“She's a-a, you know, a prostitute."
Emma regretted her decision to do the character as soon as Teresa ushered her into a dressing room and made her change into a slutty pink costume, a platinum wig that resembled a small toy poodle and enough makeup for a clown's face. The accessories were just as bad. Gaudy jewelry the size of fruit and huge hoop earrings that dangled all the way down to her shoulders, tangling instantly in the fluffy, white boa Teresa wrapped around her neck like a giant anaconda.
However, it was the four-inch high heels that threatened to end Emma's brief acting career before she even left the dressing room. She wobbled to the door and actually stumbled into the back hallway, swearing beneath her breath. She just knew she was going to make a fool of herself on stage before the end of the evening, if not fall and break her leg.
As she walked unsteadily toward the stage she hastily skimmed over the script for Lola's part, deciding she'd do better by drawing on what little she'd seen on TV. It was still unclear if she was supposed to play a sleazy prostitute or a funny one but going by her costume it was the latter. She joined the rest of the costumed actors who were already situated at their perspective places on stage, waiting for the curtain to go up for the first act with a feeling of doom churning in the pit of her stomach. She was a fool for letting Teresa talk her into this.
Finally the lights came on and Teresa gave the signal to raise the curtain. Emma took several deep breaths to steady her nerves as the audience gradually came into view. It was a small theater and it didn't take long to see that all two hundred and seventy-five seats were filled with some of Stratton's finest citizens. However, none of that mattered because the first one her eyes landed on was none other than Mike, sitting in the third row directly in front of the stage. What was he doing there and how was she supposed to act with him watching? With a little luck and a lot of praying maybe he wouldn't recognize her.
But Emma knew she'd need more than luck on her side, and the only way she was going to get through the play was pretend he wasn't there.
* * * *
Mike's mind was a thousand miles away when the heavy curtain was drawn back and the audience quieted down with anticipation. He made a half-hearted attempt to straighten up in his seat and look excited when Melissa glanced his way, an eager grin on her face and a bright look in her eyes that promised he wouldn't be sorry he came. Once she turned her attention back to the stage he released a deep breath, trying to get comfortable but there was no place to stretch out his legs.
What lacked in comfort was made up for in décor. Mike had to give the Historic Society credit, they'd done a good job renovating the inside of the theater back to it's turn of the century look, obviously going by the many old portraits on the walls as resources to copy the Victorian style. The seats, though small, were done in plush red velvet, the same velvet as the heavy drapes on stage. The woodwork had been refinished back to its rich, dark mahogany. Brass fixtures had been polished. It was a shame the town was considering tearing it down.
The audience's laughter pulled him back to what was happening on stage. His gaze riveted there in time to see an actress stumble and make a grab for one of the barstools. Even without glancing at the program given at the front door it was obvious by her attire she was playing the part of a prostitute. The audience laughed again when she cautiously released the stool to balance herself, before continuing in the direction of the man sitting at the end of the bar. Her attempt at a seductive glide across stage turned into crooked, unsteady sway.
Mike grinned. She was wearing four-inch heels, which accentuated her shapely legs. Like any appreciative male would, he followed the line of her legs until they disappeared beneath the short, pink skirt she was wearing. His smile widened when she tried to sit on the barstool and couldn't. Something in the way she tugged on the too short skirt caused a frown to appear between his eyes, triggering a memory that eluded him. Curious, he opened the program, glancing down the list of actors to see who was playing the part. Sandy Dennison. He quickly glanced back at Lola.
There was no way that was Sandy because word was out she'd left town that afternoon to get married. Besides, she was a buxom blonde, almost six feet tall. So, who was filling in for her? His gaze ran over Lola more thoroughly and the answer came to him immediately when he saw her unconsciously tug her blouse up where it had fallen off her shoulder. Chuckling, he began looking on with more interest. Suddenly his cramped position didn't seem so bad anymore. However, the quirk on his mouth quickly vanished when he watched Emma slither up against the man at the bar, who in turn pulled the boa from around her neck in one smooth move.
Words were said, there was an exchange of touches and lingering looks and then the man grabbed Emma to him in a lusty embrace. Her throaty laugh echoed through the room as she leaned away from his approaching lips, teasing him by running her tongue over the bright red lipstick covering her mouth. As she turned her face towards the audience, it was then their eyes met full on. Even beneath the layers of makeup Mike could see her blush when she realized that he knew who she was.
He responded to the glimmer of humor dancing in the depths of her eyes until she turned her face back to the man intent on kissing her. He tugged her closer and Emma laughed gaily, dropping her hands on his shoulders, teasing him, whispering promises. It was just a part, Mike reminded himself, ignoring the jealousy eating away in his belly. He supposed she had no choice in letting the man kiss her but at the last second she turned away, his mouth grazing her cheek instead. Mike didn't know what was worse, seeing her get slapped around or watching another man kiss on her.
There was one thing he did know though; it was going to be a long night.
* * * *
As soon as the curtain fell for the last time, Emma said a silent prayer the play was finally over, turning to make a hasty retreat to her dressing room. It had been the longest two hours of her life and she couldn't wait to get out of her costume and shower. She'd been slobbered on and manhandled but if the roaring applause was anything to go by it had been worth it. The first play of the season had definitely been a huge success.
“Will you just listen to that applause? We're bringing down the house!” Elliot beamed backstage, giving Emma a brief hug. “This is just the beginning, kiddo!"
“Don't go running off,” Teresa gushed, before Emma could respond to Elliot's enthusiasm. “The audience is expecting a curtain call. Then there's the group photo with the mayor and a reporter...” The applause and cheers drowned out the rest of her words.
“We're going to be famous,” Elliot joked, leaving Emma to follow the line of performers heading back to the stage.
Rolling her eyes, Emma hesitated, watching them walk away. She was going to be famous all right, for playing a clumsy prostitute who couldn't make up her mind if she was supposed to be sexy or funny and aiming for something in between. In spite of that, she couldn't fault their enthusiasm. They'd accomplished what they set out to do: proving to the mayor the money spent so far for refurbishing the building had been worth it. Now maybe he'd dig a little deeper in the city's pockets so they could finish the project.
“Come on, Lola, you're going to miss the curtain call!"
That was the point. Her eyes followed Charlie, the bartender, as he rushed behind the rest. She bit down on her bottom lip, hoping no one noticed her lagging behind, wondering if Mike and his daughter were still out there. She recalled seeing Melissa grab his arm with girlish excitement during several scenes, scenes where Emma's character had caused a laugh or two by messing up or stumbling ungracefully. The only thing that had kept her from walking off stage and not going back was the hope that the audience thought her flubs were part of the scene.
She saw Elliot and several others motioning for her to join them and with a frustrated sigh headed their way. But not before she slipped off the ridiculously high heels torturing her feet. Tossing them aside, she drew the boa around her neck and joined the line of performers just as the curtain rose. The audience gave them a standing ovation, loud cheers and applause thundered through the theater. Yet all Emma saw was the intense allure of electric eyes and a sexy grin that turned her world inside out.
She knew at that moment she was falling in love with Mike Denton.
Chapter 13
“Dad, please!” Melissa pleaded, tugging persistently on Mike's arm. “I helped write Lola's part. I want to meet her,” she implored, referring to Emma as though she alone was the cause for her mere existence.
They were standing in front of their seats waiting for the others in their row to move so they could exit. Gradually the noise began to die down and people started to leave. The actors on stage were posing for a group picture for the newspaper. Mike didn't like the fact Emma was being prompted to sit on the lap of the guy who'd played her John. The smile on his face revealed he was a little too happy over it. But why wouldn't he be...
His eyes doubled back to his daughter when her statement finally sank in, his expression growing serious. Suddenly the subject matter far outweighed the fact that Lola Parks had been sexy, if not a little bit clumsy and comical. A fact Mike figured was more Emma than the way the script had been written.
Melissa laughed on noticing his frown. “Relax, Dad, I'm not a child anymore. A group of us worked on it together and we researched the material at the town library. It was fun."
Not a child? In his mind Melissa would always be a child, his child. He crossed his arms, giving her a long, hard look that didn't so much a cause a glimmer of alarm on her young face. With a giggle that brought back images of when she'd been an energetic five year old hell bent on escaping after getting caught stealing a cookie, she whipped around to walk down the aisle without a care in the world.
After a slight hesitation, Mike reluctantly followed, realizing there was nothing he could do. It was done now. However, he intended on paying closer attention to what she was doing in the drama club from then on. A bright flash pulled his attention back to the commotion on stage as the photographer snapped a few pictures. Once he was done, he quickly gathered up his gear and proceeded to get out of the way of excited patrons intent on congratulating the actors on their success.
His gaze went back to Emma in time to see Elliot grab her for an over zealous hug, which caused his temper to rise almost instantly. He fought the feeling down as well as the thoughts of jumping over the row of seats in his way and knocking his teeth down his throat. When the other man finally noticed Mike watching them, he practically threw Emma out of his arms and disappeared into the crowd. Her eyes followed him for a second, a curious look on her expression, before she turned back to Mike.
His unreasonable anger dissolved the moment they made eye contact. A slow smile spread across her face and she gave him an impish wink with those ridiculous fake eyelashes. Pleasant warmth flowed through Mike, his heart jumping like a schoolboy experiencing his first taste of love. He knew then and there that no matter how hard he fought against it, she was rapidly becoming very important to him. Before he knew it Melissa had fought her way to the front and jumped up on stage, calling out Lola's name. At first Emma didn't respond, until Melissa purposely stepped in front of her.
“Hi, my name's Melissa. I thought you were terrific as Lola."
Reluctantly pulling her gaze away from Mike, Emma glanced at the teenager before her, noticing they were almost eye level. The second thing she noticed was that Melissa had Mike's eyes. She was a pretty girl in a woman's body, her budding curves very evident in the sweater she was wearing. Emma had blossomed early too, much to her parents’ dismay. She could just imagine what was in store for Mike once the boys began to notice her.
She held out her hand, smiling. “Thank you, I think. I certainly added a bit of flare to the part trying to balance in those ridiculous heels. I'm Emma Stewart."
Melissa's eyes widened as she shook Emma's hand. “You're Amanda's Mom?” she gasped in awe. “You don't look that old.” Her face turned scarlet immediately after realizing her blunder. “What I mean is, ah, you don't look old enough to, ah..."
Emma couldn't control her burst of laughter, meeting Mike's eyes over his daughter's head. “Well, at least you didn't call me chunky mama. Actually, Amanda and I are sisters. She calls me Mom because I raised her."
“Please excuse my daughter while she takes her foot out of her mouth,” Mike joked, joining in. He placed his hands on Melissa's shoulders and gave them a light squeeze. “She's excited meeting the actress who played a character she helped create."
“Really?” Emma met Melissa's embarrassed eyes, her ready smile putting the thirteen-year-old at ease. “That's a pretty sophisticated part. I'm impressed. I'm only sorry I didn't do it justice. I was slated for filling in for the abused housewife."
“Oh, I thought you were terrific!” Melissa piped up with excitement twinkling in her eyes. “We hadn't intended it to be a funny part but you made Lola seem real, like, even though she was a prostitute she had faults and feelings too."
A musical laugh escaped Emma. “Well, she certainly had plenty of faults,” she agreed. Her gaze shifted to Mike again, who appeared to be using his daughter as a shield. “What did you think of the play, Mike?"
Melissa, being a bright teenager, immediately picked up on the fact that she hadn't introduced her father to Emma. She stepped slightly away from her dad, her eyes moving back and forth between them with growing speculation. “You two have already met?” Her question was directed at Mike.
“We've run into each other on occasion,” he admitted, drinking Emma up with his eyes. “With a little help from fate."
“And Cupid's Arrow."
“If you believe in that sort of thing."
An awkward silence followed his statement. For a moment Emma forgot all about Melissa, drowning in the sensual pools of Mike's dark eyes. As their gazes clung, she grew warm, remembering their heated kiss at the gym, the taste of his passion tempered by sweetness. A fluttering sensation filled her belly and she lowered her gaze before giving herself away. It wouldn't do to let Melissa see her ogling her father with something other than friendship in her eyes.
“Oh yeah ... the dog.” For a moment Melissa's voice faded into hushed stillness. Emma had the feeling she was the only one who caught on to the significance of her comment. “I didn't know you were friends. But that's great! Maybe Emma can go fishing with us this weekend.” She turned toward her dad with a look on her face that said she thought it was the best idea she'd ever had. “It's okay if Emma joins us, isn't it Dad?” Suddenly her mouth dropped open, almost as large as her eyes were round. “We could even pack a picnic lunch and go to the park afterwards!"
The color creeping up Mike's neck was obvious to Emma and she looked away with growing amusement. She didn't know what he was thinking but if it was anything like her, spending a day together in the close confines of his small boat wasn't very appealing. Especially when they were attracted to each other. But then, Melissa would be there. Her gaze returned to him, she wondered what he would say. It would definitely be a lot safer having Melissa around for a chaperone. That would be one way of keeping their emotions in check. “I could pack a picnic lunch,” she offered, giving Melissa a congenial wink.
She waited for Mike's response, sensing he was warring with his own pros and cons. Melissa peered at him patiently, yet there was eagerness in her young eyes that she couldn't disguise, giving Emma cause for speculation and mild concern. Melissa wasn't as good at hiding her intentions as well as Amanda. She was too young and inexperienced. In spite of their age differences the girls obviously knew each other, probably because Troy and Mike worked together. Were they in cahoots? She wouldn't put it past Amanda to enlist the aid of an innocent child. Emma glanced at Mike, who apparently didn't have a clue.
“Well, Dad?” she asked anxiously, all but holding her breath.
Mike finally took a breath as though resigned to the fact he was going to lose no matter what he said. “Sure, I guess that would be okay."
If he was going to say more it was cut off by Melissa's happy exclamation. “Great!” She grabbed his arm and squeezed. “Thank you, Dad. I can't wait; it'll be lots of fun.” Her eyes shot past him as something caught her attention. “Oh, I see some friends; it was nice meeting you Emma. See you on Saturday.” She rushed off before anyone could say anything.
“Lots of fun,” Emma echoed, grinning at the less than enthusiastic expression on Mike's serious face. She met his eyes, her smile slowly fading. Now wasn't the time or place but it didn't seem to matter. In spite of his jaw tightening there was no denying the desire simmering in his eyes, just beneath the surface. Emma knew it was a reflection of what he saw in hers. The noise around her began to fade in and out, as she became intensely aware of him and her growing feelings for him.
It was crazy but she wanted him to kiss her again.
She wanted his hands on her ... now. At that very moment.
As she imagined what that would be like, she grew incredibly warm, her lips parting as she drew in a shaky breath. A tingling in her breasts was a warning her nipples were hardening. She thought she was doing a good job hiding her desire from him but the smoldering look in his eyes revealed she was only fooling herself. He surprised her by moving, closing the distance between them. Grasping her hand, he wordlessly pulled her with him off the stage as though he knew exactly where he was going, past several self-absorbed actors and down the dimly lit deserted hallway.
Where he was taking her didn't matter. He opened the first door he came to, which turned out to be one of the dressing rooms, taking a quick peek inside to make sure it was empty. When he was satisfied it was, he pulled her inside and closed the door. Releasing an impatient sound that resembled a wounded animal, he pushed her against the door, following her there with his body. They came together like a raging storm. Elements battling for control as mouths clashed, tongues meshed, bodies melded in a firestorm of instant, uncontrollable passion. Mike's hands were finally where Emma wanted them, starting with her throat and trailing a leisurely path of fire over her shoulders and down her arms, before falling to her hips and gliding back up her sides.
There was no hesitation in his sensuous touch when he continued the erotic journey to her breasts, which had swelled and were aching with need. Begging to be caressed. Her nipples peaked into hard little points, stabbing his palms as they smoothed over her breasts before cupping their full weight. She cried out beneath his demanding mouth, arching her body against him as overwhelming need coursed through her, matching his stormy ardor. When his thumbs grazed her sensitive nipples, a liquid heat rushed through her body in hot, dizzying waves.
She tore her mouth away to catch her breath, moaning with pleasure when Mike ran his open mouth along the side of her neck to her exposed collarbone, and lower still to the deep part of her blouse. She was certain she was going to go up in flames when his tongue dipped inside her cleavage, teasing and licking her ultra sensitive flesh until she was a mindless, quivering mass. Her knees buckled.
Oh my God!
“Mike,” she began, gasping for air, unsure of the wisdom of what they were doing.
“Don't say anything,” he rasped, gently pulling her blouse down until her shoulders were revealed. “Just feel.” He planted fiery kisses along the smooth flesh he slowly exposed.
She was feeling! Way too much, too fast. She'd been dreaming of this moment, yearning for it. There was a spot actually throbbing between her thighs, a moist heat dampening her panties. Her limbs were trembling wildly and she clutched Mike's shoulders to remain on her feet. Suddenly his hands were moving beneath her blouse and before she could murmur a protest, they were gliding slowly upward, bringing the material with them. Emma felt a cool draft against her midriff and then against her breasts. Their eyes clashed, and then Mike lowered his gaze to take in the bounty he'd just bared.
His low groan echoed through the small room as he bent his head, putting his open mouth on Emma. He took her naked breast in his mouth in an exquisite kiss that finished with a slow glide to the tip of her nipple. Once there, his tongue lazily circled the nub, lapping at it as if it was a tasty treat. Emma shivered deliciously, burying her hands in his hair and holding him to her. As his tongue stabbed at her flesh, she was painfully aware of his throbbing arousal. The strength and fullness of him made her bold.
Uncontrollable hunger forced her hand down his torso until she reached the top of his slacks. Taking a shaky breath, she hesitated, until passion overruled common sense and with a muffled cry of surrender she let her hand continue down the front of Mike's zipper. She teasingly trailed her fingertips over his impressive hard on until her actions drove him wild. In a movement that bordered on savagery, he grabbed her probing hand and held it tightly against him, controlling the pressure while moving her palm up and down his cloaked shaft.
He shuddered in a moment of weakness. The metallic taste of blood filled Emma's mouth as she bit down hard on her bottom lip, her eyes misting with deep emotion. A sob escaped her before she could swallow it. Mike's head jerked back so he could meet her eyes, and then he was cursing sharply beneath his breath.
“Oh damn!” His fist pounded the door above her head, rattling the fragile old wood. “I didn't mean for things to go this far.” He leaned his forehead against hers, panting for breath. “I only wanted to kiss you,” he explained, laughing in spite of himself. “Hell, you make me forget where I am and what I'm doing."
“Don't blame this on me, detective,” Emma whispered breathlessly, a trembling smile playing upon her lips as she tried to calm her racing heart. “Is it the wig?"
“Pardon?” Mike pulled back to search her eyes for the answer, his still dilated with desire. The knowledge that she'd been the one to put that desire there made Emma heady with power.
“The blonde wig,” she repeated. “Is that what made you lose control? Some men can't resist a blonde,” she said with humor.
His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. “Hell no. I wish it was that simple."
“Why does it have to be so hard?” she countered seriously. His erection jumped against her and she burst out laughing. “I'm serious, Mike. What are we going to do about this? It's obvious we're attracted to each other."
He started to shake his head. “Emma..."
“Shake your head all you want, it won't change the truth. Why else are we here plastered against this door with the rest of the world on the other side?” Her eyes followed him when he distanced himself from her. She watched as he ran his hands through his hair, his expression changing with his varying emotions. It was plain as the nose on his face that Mike didn't know what to say or do. And he was running.
Muffled voices in the hallway reminded her they were in someone's dressing room and would soon have company. She straightened her clothes, going to the mirror over the vanity to inspect the damage to her makeup and hair. Groaning, she felt her cheeks blush with guilt. She looked like a woman who'd just grabbed a quickie in a back restroom somewhere. She met Mike's eyes in the mirror. He looked disheveled too, his skin still showing the signs of the heated moment between them. And her fingers had definitely mussed up his hair, which he was suddenly running his fingers through.
“Melissa will be looking for me. I'll leave first; maybe no one will notice."
“Mike?” He turned to glance back at her before opening the door. “What time Saturday?"
A frown appeared between his brows. “Saturday?"
He'd already forgotten, or, maybe he'd chosen to. “Fishing,” was all she said.
“Oh, ah, we like to be out on the lake early when the fish are biting. Can you be ready around six?"
“I'll be waiting at the dock,” she replied, wondering what she was getting herself into until she remembered Melissa would be there. How much trouble could they get into with a thirteen-year-old chaperone?
Chapter 14
Nursing a beer, Mike was sitting on his back porch in the dark, staring out at the glistening water of the nearby pond and listening to the chorus of crickets and frogs. The kitchen window was open above his head and he could hear Melissa humming while she finished up the supper dishes. His thoughts drifted from topic to topic but always seemed to come right back to one in particular, Emma Stuart, which then caused him to take another sip of his beer. He vaguely wondered how many beers it would take to make him forget about her.
Not for the first time he asked himself why he was fighting his attraction to her so vehemently, always coming back with the same answer, because he was so strongly interested in her. And he was running scared. He couldn't recall a time when another woman had affected him as strongly. Making himself think about something other than a good romp in the sack and maybe a decent dinner. That he could handle.
Emma made him think about forever after. For the first time in his life, that he could remember, he wanted, needed, love. Just a sexual relationship with her was out of the question.
She made him yearn for cozy nights in front of the fireplace, or cuddling wrapped up in a quilt on a cold night as they rocked in the old swing at the end of the porch. Someone to kiss goodbye to in the mornings and hello to at the end of a workday.
Hell, Mike figured he was losing it. Maybe some day he could have those things again. Now wasn't a good time to be thinking about what he wanted. He grinned, hearing Melissa singing out of tune, and the next thing he knew she was opening the screen door. “We're still going fishing in the morning aren't we, Dad?"
“Yep.” Mike was glad it was dark and she couldn't see his frown. Tomorrow he'd see the root of all his troubles again, in the flesh. He hadn't seen Emma since the night of the play and that had almost been a week ago. He'd purposely avoided the gym, getting his workouts with a good run around the lake in the evenings before dinner. Now, like a sex-craved adolescent, he couldn't wait to see her again. Just the thought of her produced a pleasant tightening in his body. Bringing the can of beer to his mouth he angrily swallowed half the contents.
The smile in Melissa's voice was unmistakable. “Good. I don't know Emma except for what Amanda's told me but she sounds cool. Do you want another beer before I go to my room?"
Did she sound a little too happy? “It's kind of early to be going to bed isn't it, kiddo?"
“I'm not going to bed.” She laughed, in a voice that clearly said he'd lost his marbles for even thinking it. “I have an essay on Theodore Roosevelt due this Wednesday and want to get started on it."
“Get started? How long have you known about it?” She hesitated, which told Mike long enough. “Never mind, just make sure you get it done."
“I will."
The door closed quietly behind her and Mike found himself alone again. He finished his beer, trying to focus on a case he was working on, giving up after awhile. He might as well face it; he wasn't going to get Emma out of his mind.
* * * *
Emma waved when she saw Mike's boat approaching in the distance, but her smile quickly vanished when he came close enough for her to see he was alone. She'd been looking forward to fishing with them all week, mostly because she'd get to see him again. Second because she'd have a chance to get to know Melissa a little better. From what Amanda told her, she was a sweet girl who was at the age when she needed a mother's influence more than a father's.
As the boat neared the dock she crossed her arms, giving Mike a stern look. “Where's our chaperone?"
His mouth twitched, his eyes moving over her like a hungry shark that hadn't eaten in a week. She was dressed for cool weather in jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail that was rapidly coming undone. There was nothing at all sexy about the way she looked, yet Mike's eyes told another story. Her cheeks filled with a pleasant heat, recalling their last steamy encounter.
“Do we need a chaperone?” he inquired with an amused tone. He reached for the dock, effortlessly pulling the boat closer so she could easily step down safely.
“I think one of us does,” she joked, bending to pick up the picnic basket she'd prepared and handing it to him.
Their hands brushed. “Are you worried?” His gaze held hers for a few seconds.
If anything Mike looked worried. Emma decided the best thing she could do was to change the subject. “What happened to Melissa?"
He took the things she handed him, putting them in the bottom of the boat behind his seat. “An essay on Roosevelt happened,” he explained, taking her hand and pulling her in with him. “She thought she had until Wednesday but checked her notes this morning to discover it's due Monday instead. Now she's in a panic to get it done."
He didn't sound as if he believed her and Emma had to wonder about it herself. The boat rocked slightly with her added weight and she automatically braced her hands on Mike's shoulders. For a moment they moved against each other. She struggled not to give in to the sexual pull being close to him created. Beneath her palms his body felt hard and strong and she could feel the heat of him through his clothes.
She smiled, slipping her hands from his shoulders and taking a step back. “I have to warn you before we take off, I'm not very good at fishing."
“What part aren't you good at?"
Was his voice a little ragged? Emma liked to think she had that affect on him. It was the least she could do, considering he managed to reduce her bones into silly putty every time he touched her or got too close.
“Putting the bait on the hook part,” she managed to respond. “Especially if it's a worm.” To get her point across she shuddered delicately.
Mike's lips twitched slightly. “I guess I can live with that."
“The casting and reeling in part too,” she continued in a sassy tone. “And if I'm lucky enough to catch anything, taking it off the hook might be a problem.” She shivered and made a face. “All that wiggling, and fish are slimy. But other than that, I'm a pro."
Mike crossed his arms, raising a brow at the same time, an amused smile breaking through and turning that sexy mouth of his into something Emma became hungry to taste. She swallowed with difficulty.
“Maybe I should have just asked what you're good at."
He had no business looking so hunky this early in the morning, filling out a pair of old, faded jeans as though he'd been poured into them. Emma recognized the tee shirt he was wearing beneath his open jacket as the one she'd ripped at the ball game. He hadn't even made an attempt to mend it.
Before she realized what she was doing, her hand came up to finger the torn material, recalling the scratches that had lined his chest that day. “I'm good at a lot of things, detective."
“Oh?"
She peered at him from beneath the sweep of her lashes. “But if you're talking about fishing, I'm only good at cooking them, especially the ones without heads and tails."
Mike threw back his head and let out a throaty laugh, the noise scaring the birds in the nearby trees into flight. “Come on.” He directed her to the opposite seat from him and forced her down. “Let's go before I say to hell about fishing and take you inside to find out what else you're good at."
His comment held her momentarily speechless. She enjoyed the playful banter between them, but there was no denying the smoldering awareness of each other that was simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to emerge and consume them if they let it. She watched the muscles flex in Mike's arms as he started the outboard motor.
“Once Melissa backed out, I'm surprised you showed up at all, considering,” Emma remarked, holding onto the sides of the boat as it rocked against the waves.
His eyes caught and held hers. “Considering what?"
She shrugged. “You've made your feelings pretty obvious about...” She hesitated, unsure of herself. “Well, wanting to be alone with me.” Mike tore his gaze away and looked out into the distance, a muscle twitching in his suddenly taut jaw.
When it became apparent he was going to ignore her comment, Emma riveted her gaze on the shoreline to watch the scenery fly by. She couldn't help noticing how fast they were building along the lakeside. Houses were going up at an alarming rate, a lot of them vacation homes. She was glad to see the builders were doing their best to avoid altering the landscape any more than they had to. Not cutting down the mature trees offered the homeowner privacy from their neighbors. She'd thought about buying a house but the convenience of townhouse living had appealed to her more. Furthermore, her decision had left her with enough money to live comfortably until she decided what she wanted to do with her life.
Mike finally slowed the boat down, heading for a secluded little inlet. Massive trees grew along the muddy bank. Heavy branches swaying like giant canopies over the water's edge, providing them with even more privacy. The water was dark and choppy that morning and for the first time Emma began to notice the unfavorable skyline. If she didn't know better it looked like rain. Turning off the motor, he reached for one of the fishing poles at the bottom of the boat and proceeded to bait it, all without words.
She made a face when he hooked the fat, wiggling earthworm before handing her the pole. “Here, you don't have to cast, just drop it over the side and wait."
Thank goodness. Emma knew enough about fishing to know she didn't know how to cast. “Thank you,” she breathed, doing as he instructed under his watchful eye. “What kind of fish are we fishing for? Since you're nice enough to bait the hook for me, I'll cook whatever we catch. It's the least I can do. But you'll have to lop off their heads and tails, skin and gut them because I..."
“Emma,” he said in a tone one might use on a tiresome five year old. She looked at him expectantly. The expression on his face was as serious as they came. It was obvious Mike didn't fool around when it came to fishing. “You have to be quiet or you'll frighten the fish away."
Oh. She knew that. She watched him bait his own hook before casting it into a clump of wet grass further away from the boat. She had a hard time believing that he and Melissa fished the whole time without talking, but if that's what he wanted, she'd do things his way. For awhile she watched the red and white bobber gently floating on top of the rough water before realizing it was making her sleepy. She covered a loud yawn with her hand, giving her head a vigorous shake to clear it. Waiting was always the hardest part, she should have remembered that.
She'd gone fishing with her father once, when she was nine, but she'd been too young at the time to appreciate the value of waiting for something. It took patience, a trait she'd never associated with Mike before now. Although his quiet perseverance didn't come as a surprise. She had no doubts that when he wanted something he'd wait for as long as it took to get it. For some reason that brought a smile to her lips, which didn't go unnoticed by the much too serious Mike.
“You look like the cat that swallowed the canary,” he said in a low voice, narrowing his eyes on her in a way that made her feel like squirming. “What's going on inside that head of yours?"
She glanced away with a shrug, pretending interest in a couple of squirrels circling a tree on the bank. “Nothing, why are you so suspicious?"
“It's the detective in me. And you look guilty as sin about of something.” He reeled in his line only to cast it out again in one smooth motion.
“I assure you I'm very innocent,” she breathed, giving him a come hither look that produced a sparkle of humor in his eyes. And something else that caused her heart to flutter.
“You weren't so innocent the other night in the dressing room,” he reminded her.
Her mouth dropped open that he'd dare bring that up. “That sounds like you were disappointed, detective."
There was no denying the smoldering emotion filling his dark eyes. “You were very, ah, good."
“And you see where that got me,” Emma said before she could curb her tongue. She hadn't meant to say it like that. The last thing she wanted was for Mike to think she was disappointed. “That didn't come out the right way,” she smiled.
“Neither did the other night,” he said with a sexy grin that grew crooked on one side.
Emma couldn't miss the underlining of truth behind Mike's comment. She could only hope he wasn't referring to her embarrassing acting abilities. She lowered her gaze, his comment filling her cheeks with instant heat that rapidly swept down her body. Suddenly the insulated sweatshirt she had on was much too warm. She set her rod down and proceeded to remove it. As she tugged the sweatshirt over her head it pulled the rubber band from her ponytail, releasing her hair in a soft cloud of tangles around her face.
She glanced at Mike, freezing at the raw expression on his face. “Is something wrong?” Worried there was a hole in her tee shirt, she glanced down, her heart plummeting. It was worse than that. The sweatshirt had snagged her tank top on the way over her head, baring Emma's left breast. All she could think of was thank God she'd had the foresight to wear a bra, even if it was a lacy see-through.
Her embarrassed gasp was loud enough to scare away every fish in their vicinity to the other side of the lake. As she reached up to tug the tee shirt down another gasp escaped her when Mike's hand shot out, stopping her. She looked at him questioningly, holding her breath as she waited to see what he was going to do.
Desire licked at her senses when his finger snagged the folded edge of her tank top. He began to drag it down in slow motion, taking a path that left her flesh on fire. Her gaze fell to his hand, mesmerized as his finger moved down her breast and over her nipple, causing it to pucker and tingle instantly, which then caused every nerve ending in her body to go haywire. Suddenly there was a fire burning in her belly, moving rapidly lower. When Mike was done she glanced up, meeting his lazy gaze. The look in his eyes excited her, if not frightened her a little. She wasn't an expert on the subject but all the signals were there, she only hoped she was reading them correctly.
Mike wanted her.
And he wanted her now.
Chapter 15
Mike tried to swallow but his throat closed up. Seeing Emma's breast, encased in a lacy bit of nothing, was more than a man in his fragile state could bear. How the hell was he supposed to ignore that? Or forget what she'd tasted like the other night in the dressing room. It all came rushing back to him now. How sweet her flesh was. How her nipple had swelled in his mouth.
Reaching forward to cover that tempting mound seemed the natural thing to do. The opposite of what he really wanted. He had to think about his sanity. Still, nothing could have stopped him from taking his time and trailing his finger across that tempting flesh, marveling at how soft it was.
How responsive.
His gaze met hers. The desire evident in the smoky depths of her eyes, as well as a subtle shyness that endeared her to him. The urge to pull her across his lap and kiss that soft, sweet mouth was so powerful that he shook with it. How could the sight of one lace-covered breast cause such turmoil in his body? Maybe if he kissed her it would appease some of the pain. At the very least get her out of his system. Yeah, right, how many times was he going to try and convince himself of that one?
Mike didn't need to glance around to know they were in a well-secluded spot. Maybe he'd unconsciously chosen this area, knowing the house on the lakeside lot was empty now that the occupants had returned to their winter residence in Florida. His body tightened like a coiled spring, making up his mind for him. Fingers closing around Emma's upper arms, he slowly drew her across the open space between them. “I might regret this but if I don't kiss you right now you might as well take me to Cherry Grove and drop me off at the hospital.” Cherry Grove only had one hospital, the Cherry Grove Institute for the Mentally Insane.
“Is it that bad?” Emma teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Her hands came up and she automatically braced her palms against his chest. Only she wasn't pushing him away. Her fingers curled into his torn shirt.
“Worse than bad,” he growled, leaning back as he brought Emma against him. He meant to straighten when she was settled on his lap but suddenly Mike slipped off the seat backwards, landing with a mild thump on the bottom of the boat, with Emma on top of him.
“Oops!” She laughed, her hair falling down in her face. “You..."
Mike bent his head, closing the short distance between them and slanting his mouth firmly over hers, effectively cutting off whatever she'd been about to say. He wasn't in the talking mood, or the listening mood for that matter. All he knew was the feel of Emma's softness against him and the overwhelming urge to do something about the pain in his loins. Kissing her seemed a good place to start.
Yet Mike's heart sank when he realized almost instantly that kissing her wouldn't be enough. He'd had a sample a week ago, a taste of the fire within. As his mouth worked on hers, he gradually lay back, bringing Emma more fully against him. Her startled gasp only allowed him the chance to slip his tongue inside her mouth. At that point Mike was sure he heard fireworks. He almost drew back to look but caught himself. He had a beautiful woman in his arms, returning his lusty kiss with every bit as much zeal and enjoyment as he could have hoped for. Why should he waste a second of it looking for something he knew was only in his imagination?
As desire for her surged through his blood, Mike's hands left her arms and moved to her shoulders, sweeping down the graceful arch of her back to the gentle flare of her hips. His hands explored her with thorough slowness, learning the curves and valleys of her shape. He groaned deeply with pleasure as his palms smoothed down her slender thighs and back up to her hips, before cupping the half moons of her buttocks.
He thrust against her, letting her feel the heavy power of his arousal. Mike wanted so much more than a stolen moment, wondering wildly what kind of trouble they could get into making love in the bottom of his boat, though fear held him back. And more than that, respect for Emma. He wouldn't put her in a situation that would humiliate her if someone happened along. Stratton was a small town, and gossip traveled like wildfire.
He tore his mouth from hers only because he needed air. He was powerless to do anything but lie there, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he worked to fill his empty lungs. With shaking hands, he reached up, pushing the hair from Emma's face so he could read what was in her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, her nostrils flaring in her overheated face. Her desire for him was evident on her aroused expression.
She never looked so beautiful, or as desirable.
“Damn, lady. I'll never survive anything more than a kiss with you,” he said hoarsely, wondering if she could feel the heavy pounding of his heart. “I feel like a keg of dynamite getting ready to blow."
Emma lowered her head against his chest, trembling wildly against him. When she spoke he could hear the smile in her voice. “How do you think I feel? I haven't had these feelings for a long time."
He wondered if she realized what she'd just confessed. He took a deep breath, looking up at the sky. The sun was slipping behind a gathering of storm clouds. For the first time Mike noticed the temperature had dropped. When he'd asked Melissa to check the weather that morning, she hadn't said anything about rain being in the forecast. Still and all he should have acknowledged the signs. Maybe he'd purposely ignored them just to be with Emma.
“Sweetheart, I think we're in for a storm."
“Not if we're smart about it."
Laughter erupted at her misunderstanding. “I mean the weather,” he explained, surprising them both with a kiss to her forehead. The show of affection caught Mike off guard. That was something he only did to Melissa. Damn! He knew they should pack it in and head back to shore but he was loath to move. She felt good against him, at least his body thought so. His arousal was nestled in the juncture of her thighs, straining toward a goal hampered by the tight jeans they were wearing. Surely she must know how much he wanted her.
He nearly lost control when she clenched her thighs together. “I don't want to move,” she groaned unhappily.
Those were his thoughts exactly; she must have read his mind. However, a few moments later Mother Nature was taking the decision out of their hands. The first drops of rain began to fall. Emma shuddered against him and Mike realized she was feeling the chill. He sat up, bringing her with him.
“You'd better put your sweatshirt back on. As it is I'm afraid we're not going to make it back to your place before the sky opens up.” He packed up their fishing gear as he spoke, resisting the urge to adjust himself. Kissing Emma hadn't put out any fires; he wanted her more than ever.
“Here, put this on.” Mike handed Emma a yellow rain poncho.
“What about you?” she asked with concern.
“I can use a good cooling off,” he stated outrageously, shooting her a devilish wink.
The talking stopped once they were underway. Mike turned the motor up high in an effort to get to Emma's before the storm hit. They practically made it too, until her pier came into view and then the sky opened up as he'd predicted, pouring buckets of ice water on them. Emma snuggled beneath the poncho, keeping her face down. In spite of that a good gust of wind swept over them and suddenly her hood flew back and in a matter of seconds she was drenched. She grabbed for it, laughing, before finally giving up. The wind was just too strong for her.
“Another five minutes and we would have made it!” she shouted above the roar of the motor. “You must be freezing."
If she only knew, Mike thought to himself, smiling because she was smiling. He noticed that about Emma, she liked to smile. He wondered if she knew how radiant her face became when she laughed, or the way her eyes came to life. Even now with the rain beating down on her she found something to laugh about.
Face it Mike, you're hooked.
Accepting that realization took the smile right off his face. He glanced up, slowing the boat down as they neared the dock. He could feel Emma's eyes on him but resisted the urge to glance back. She made it hard to look away once they made eye contact, and Mike was still aroused from that damn kiss. If he could make it through the next few minutes he'd be home free.
“Hold on.” Just as he'd expected, the rough water caused the boat to hit the dock hard and for a few moments they bounced helplessly against it until he tied it securely in place. He turned to Emma, surprised to see she was already on her feet and moving toward him. “Give me your hand and I'll help you out, it's slippery.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than she slipped, slamming into him. Mike braced his body for the impact, aware it wouldn't take much to send them both over the side. His arms automatically went around her to steady her.
“Sorry. She chuckled, not sounding sorry in the least.
She turned her face toward his, causing Mike to nearly choke on his tongue. Her mouth was parted and glistening with rain. He almost had heart failure when her tongue came out to catch the large drops rolling over her top lip. Groaning low in his throat, he lowered his head until realizing what he was doing. He pulled back; their eyes clung for a moment until the air was split with a rumble of thunder. Mike took the hint that a higher force was trying to warn him of something and he quickly released Emma, guiding her up the crude three-step ladder.
“Head up to your place,” he ordered lightly, turning to get the picnic basket. “I'll be right behind you."
It was a miracle neither one of them fell as they ran the short distance to her condo. The ground was soaked and muddy in places, puddles the size of small swimming pools provided them with an obstacle course fit for a cross-country runner looking for a workout. Mike didn't know why they were running; they were already soaked to the bone. Well, at least he was.
When they reached the covered entranceway to Emma's place, they stopped by the door and she turned to face him. Her hair was plastered to her scalp and she ran her fingers through, shaking out some of the water.
“You're welcome to come inside and dry out in front of the fire. We still have that picnic lunch I prepared,” she offered, suddenly looking shy.
Mike stared at her long and hard. If he went inside with her he knew they'd end up doing a hell of a lot more in front of the fire than just drying out. Furthermore, he sensed she knew it too. “Depends on what's in the picnic basket,” he teased, reaching forward to brush a wet strand of hair out of her eyes. “If it's peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, you have a date."
Emma's eyes flared with pleasure, warming Mike's heart. “That's exactly what I made!” she said with breathless surprise. “What's a picnic without peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?"
He'd been kidding when he said that. Mike hadn't eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich since he was a kid. His mind raced with ideas how to get out of going inside. Being alone with Emma scared the hell out of him.
“Well, detective?"
Maybe if he put a scare into her. “We both know what might happen if I go through that door,” he said, referring to what happened on the boat. Emma was smart; he knew further elaboration wasn't necessary.
A curious mixture of emotions crossed her face. But it was the unexpected unease in her lovely eyes that decided it for Mike. Giving him the out he needed and the opportunity to walk away. She wasn't ready, he could understand that. Hell, he should look at it as a stroke of good luck. He was the one who didn't want a relationship. The smartest thing he could do was turn and leave. When Emma lowered her gaze, he reached forward, putting his finger beneath her chin and raising her eyes to his, cursing himself for not leaving well enough alone.
It was clear she was undecided yet he couldn't leave her with things the way they were. “You might be inviting in the wolf,” he said with quiet emphasis.
That statement returned the gleam of mischief to her eyes in spite of the seriousness of his tone, raising Mike's blood pressure a little. “Are you implying I'm “grandma"? I know what happens to grandma."
Mike couldn't help the grin spreading across his face anymore than he could stop the next rolling clap of thunder overhead. “Definitely not,” he replied.
“Not one of the three little pigs,” she rushed out in feigned shock, her brows lifting above rounded eyes. Several flashes of lightning too close for comfort quickly put an end to their playful banter. Emma took hold of Mike's arm. “Come on, it's dangerous out here."
Not half as dangerous as it was inside, Mike thought as he let Emma drag him behind her.
Chapter 16
Emma took the picnic basket from Mike, turning to walk to the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room while he saw to the door. “You have to be freezing, Mike. Get out of those soaked clothes and I'll toss them in the dryer. There's a robe on the back of the bathroom door."
“I suppose it's better than catching cold,” he agreed.
Emma set the basket down and proceeded to struggle out of the rain poncho, surprised to see him still standing there when she brought the garment up over her head. She quickly glanced down, half expecting to find her shirt had come up again, then breathed a sigh of relief to see she was decently covered. They both grinned over the memory.
“I'd love a hot shower, but I don't think I want to chance getting struck by lightning."
“Perhaps you'd better wait. I'll build a fire after I change,” he quipped.
“I love lounging by the fire,” she said before considering her words. She glanced away, embarrassed. “My tongue has a way of running away..."
“No apologies necessary,” he said firmly.
She offered him a thankful smile. They both looked like drowned rats. The poncho hadn't done much to keep her from getting wet. She shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. It was the look in Mike's quiet scrutiny that unnerved her, reminding her of their heated kiss on his boat. It had been more than just a kiss, and she had no doubt the moment between them would have escalated into something more had they been somewhere more private.
Like there in her living room.
Lord, what had she done, insisting he come inside to dry off and have lunch? She felt a tingle of awareness travel down her spine. She couldn't afford to let him see she wanted him, understanding his reasons for not getting involved right now. That thought alone was what had held her back outside the door. If he gave in and they were to make love, Emma didn't want him blaming her for his weakness. She didn't want that over her head.
“I'm going to change, I'll be right back.” She forced herself to casually walk past him, feeling his eyes watching her as she disappeared down the hall to her bedroom. Closing the door, she leaned against it, giving her racing heart time to calm down. Inviting Mike in probably wasn't the smartest thing she'd ever done. Though Amanda would disagree with her. Thinking about Amanda caused Emma to look at the clock on the nightstand. She'd invited her and Troy over for dinner that evening, but they were coming over early to watch a movie first. Thank God they weren't due to arrive for at least two hours.
Time enough for her and Mike to ... She quickly reined in her thoughts, her hands flying up to cover her suddenly hot cheeks. Hearing the guest bathroom door close galvanized her into action and she sprinted to her bathroom to dry off, before going to her closet to change. Mike was going to be in Troy's robe when she emerged. He'd left one behind so he'd have it when he came over to go swimming. But she didn't have any excuses not to be dressed when she rejoined him in the living room. Quickly stripping, she threw on a cashmere sweater and pair of jeans. She ran her fingers through her nearly dry hair and crammed her feet into a pair of warm slippers.
As soon as she opened her door and entered the hallway, she felt the heat of the fire Mike had built. The sound of dry wood crackling reached her ears, and something else. He'd turned the radio on low and suddenly the atmosphere he'd created reeked of intimacy. Emma's steps slowed as she neared the end of the hallway, afraid of what she'd see when she finally stepped into the living room. Visions of Mike lying naked on a bear skin rug, or in this case the multicolored throw on the back of the couch, waiting for her before the fire caused her pulse to race and breath to catch. However, nothing prepared her for the sight that greeted her when she peeked around the corner.
“Oh my ... “she said and gasped behind her hand, making her presence known.
Mike stood and swung around, his hands slapping on his hips, which only caused the purple flowered robe he was wearing to part all the way down his magnificent chest. Emma's mouth went dry at all that exposed masculine flesh. “Is something funny?” he asked in mock anger, the look in his eyes daring her to laugh at him.
It was too much to take in all at once. Emma's startled gaze began with Mike's neck, taking in the width of his broad shoulders before traveling down the well-defined muscles of his sculptured chest and abdomen. A crisp blanket of hair covered his torso, narrowing all the way to his lean hips before disappearing behind a large pink rose. Oh my! Not bad for a forty-year-old man. Was he completely naked beneath her robe? Her cheeks grew uncomfortably warm, her imagination working overtime. But to keep him from noticing her preoccupation with what was hiding behind that enormous flower, she skimmed down the rest of his body, taking in his muscular thighs and long legs.
Lord, even his feet were beautiful.
“Well?"
“Well?” she breathed softly, clearly confused at what he wanted. Had he asked her something?
“I asked you if you think something's funny,” he repeated.
“No-no!” she quickly said, biting her lip to keep from laughing. However the urge was so powerful that Emma knew the only way she was going to conquer it was not look at him at all. She glanced around the room, touching on everything but him.
“Good. Because if you laughed, I'd be forced to do something about it."
His challenging tone caused her gaze to swing back his way. “That's not fair, detective.” It wasn't her fault he was wearing her robe. Troy must have taken his with him the last time he was there. Her lips quivered as she returned his stare, before she finally gave in and burst out laughing. “I'm sorry, Mike. I can't help it."
“I warned you..."
“What are you going to do?” As he advanced she retreated, holding her arms out as though to ward him off. “It's not every day I get to see a big, tough, detective wearing my satin robe.” She backed into a chair and quickly skirted around it. “The color brings out the purple around your eye,” she teased.
Mike made a grab for her. She squealed and just managed to dash out from beneath his hand. Laughing, she headed for the kitchen, not realizing she'd backed herself into a corner until it was too late. She swung around to back track but he was there, effectively blocking her escape.
Now he was the one grinning, his electric eyes alive and pinned on her wolfishly. “You're in trouble now, sweetheart.” He advanced slowly, in no hurry to catch his quarry. Like a cat playing with a mouse.
“You can't pull off tough in a floral robe,” she said and chuckled, standing her ground. “What about lunch? Aren't you hungry?” She glanced pointedly at the picnic basket, backing up until she couldn't go any further. The next thing she knew, she was up against the kitchen sink.
Mike placed his hands on either side of her against the counter, leaning in close, making her stomach do flip-flops. “Looks like you're trapped. I bet you're sorry you laughed at me now."
Emma was still laughing. Her hands fell on his shoulders and she leaned away from him as much as the counter would allow. But that only caused the lower half of their bodies to collide. As she gasped loudly, her smile quickly disappeared. She tried to swallow, all too aware of his hard flesh pushing against her. Her eyes flared with renewed desire.
“You're not laughing now,” Mike observed, leaning into her.
Neither was he. “This isn't a laughing matter,” she returned huskily, her gaze falling on his sensuous mouth. She took a deep breath, raising her eyes to his once more, drowning in the sensuality stamped on his face. “I'm ready to accept whatever punishment you deem necessary. I clearly deserve it."
A husky laugh rushed past Mike's lips, running over her senses until she melted against him. No longer was she straining to get away. He was going to kiss her again; she sensed it. She wanted it. Although she was half afraid of where it would lead. Mike was a healthy male; after awhile he was bound to want more than kisses and occasional caresses.
Realization that she wanted more rushed over Emma in dizzying waves. She began to breathe heavily, her breasts swelling with aching arousal, tingling against his hard chest. For once she was glad she'd left her bra off, relishing in the feel of the soft cashmere against her ultra sensitive flesh.
He lowered his head, closing the distance between them with purpose in his darkening eyes.
“Mike..."
“This is going to hurt me more than it's going to hurt you,” he said outrageously, continuing slowly. “But someone has to do it. And it's not as if I didn't warn you."
“I'll suffer in silence then."
“It's only a kiss.” His mouth abruptly cut off Emma's smile of mischief and any smart remarks forthcoming.
Her soft moan of surrender was immediate, producing a low response of pleasure from Mike. They moved at the same time; his arms slid around her waist, pulling her more firmly against him, her arms encircled his strong neck as she welcomed his tight embrace. Their mouths moved against each other in a sensual attack that escalated when their lips parted to allow a more thorough exploration that included warm breath and velvet tongues. Wet heat.
Did he say only a kiss?
Emma's mouth burned with fire. It was a kiss like none before. The meshing of two hungry souls until they became one. Both moved willfully against each other, taking their time down the path of promised rapture, each seeking a pleasure beyond the reality. Sounds of mutual desire filled the room, drowning out the low beat of a country western ballad on the radio. She cried out with protest when he suddenly tore his mouth from hers, but it was only to follow the line of her jaw and glide down the side of her neck, teasing and tantalizing her skin as he moved leisurely along. Testing her eagerness while revealing his own.
“I don't know if I can take much more of your particular brand of punishment,” she gasped as ripples of pleasure traveled over her. She turned her neck so he could have better access. His teeth raked over her with barely controlled desire, producing another wild shiver.
“I want you.” She hadn't meant to say it out loud and it created an instantaneous response from Mike. He jerked back, his startled gaze locking onto hers. His expression was dark with desire, nostrils flaring with need and making Emma think of a wild, hungry animal. His body was hard and demanding.
She saw the indecision in his eyes, sensing he was fighting with himself not to let things go any further. Yet even as he warred with emotions trapped inside, his body revealed his weakness by thrusting against her. All at once his hands dropped to her hips, holding her tightly before abandoning them to glide up her sides and cup her aching breasts.
“Oh!” Emma's arms came down from around Mike's neck and she flattened her hands against the counter top behind her, thrusting her breasts more fully into his caressing palms. “That feels so good,” she whispered weakly.
“You like that?"
Their gazes locked as Emma slowly nodded.
His thumbs flicked across the hardened peaks of her breasts almost roughly. “What about that?” She nodded again, a half smile of pleasure on her lips, quivering against him. Mike's hands began to gently knead her. “And that?” She shook her head yes, little mewling sounds escaping her parted lips.
Mike lowered his head and she sucked in her breath, fire engulfing her nipples as he moved his wet mouth over her, soaking her sweater. “What about this?” Mike's hands made quick work at raising her sweater until her breasts were bare before his gaze. He fastened his hot gaze on them for a few breathless seconds before lowering his head once more, this time taking her tempting flesh in his mouth and gently tugging on it.
“Yes!” Emma cried out, clutching him to her, as he loved her with his mouth. She would have fallen if she hadn't clenched her hands into the robe he was wearing, laughing softly when the feel of satin in her fists reminded her it was her robe.
“I've never made a woman laugh while making love to her,” Mike said, moving back and forth between her breasts so he could love them both equally. “It's a good thing I don't offend easily."
Emma's throaty laugh sounded deep and sensual. “Believe me, it's not your technique, detective.” Her hands released the death grip she had on the robe, slipping inside to touch his bare chest. “I can't get what you look like in my robe out of my head.” She lightly raked her nails across his nipples, getting the response she wanted when his big body shuddered.
Mike pulled back, his eyes smoldering with desire. “Then maybe it's time to take it off."
Chapter 17
Mike didn't know where the words came from, but once they were out he couldn't take them back. He watched Emma's pupils dilate, her eyes changing color with the intense emotions ruling her. All at once she turned cautious, obviously weighing her response. He couldn't fault her for that. Hell, he half hoped she said no and they both come to their senses. God knew he wasn't strong enough to rein in his control and halt the madness over taking them. He'd known for a long time that he wanted Emma and he was tired of denying it. What's more he knew she wanted him too. As the silence stretched between them he continued to caress her breasts with the palms of his hands, testing their weight and marveling at how smooth her flesh was. His body tightened even more when she slowly lowered her lids, purring like a satisfied kitten.
“Mike—"
Whatever Emma had been about to say was interrupted by the buzzer on the dryer. At first he didn't know what it was until he remembered putting his wet clothes in and turning it on while she was in the bedroom. She jerked with surprise, the desire in her startled eyes clouding with confusion. It was obvious she didn't know what was happening.
“The dryer,” he explained.
“Oh,” she said and chuckled softly, almost embarrassed.
Mike reluctantly lowered her sweater, kissing the tip of her nose. “Saved by the bell, sweetheart.” His forehead dropped to hers as he expelled a deep breath of disappointment. “One of these days there aren't going to be any interruptions to ruin the mood. Then what?"
Emma's slow reply came while she struggled to bring her breathing under control. “That depends on you, detective."
Mike pulled back so he could meet her smiling eyes. “Pardon?” If Emma meant what he thought then God help her because he wasn't going to be gentle. But the sensual glaze in her eyes quickly squashed any ideas he had of lifting her on top of the counter and taking her quick and hard. He knew when they made love for the first time he would take his time with her, love her like she deserved.
He forced himself to relax, a slight grin spreading across his features. “Mind explaining that?” Stepping back a few steps, he wanted to make sure there were no misunderstandings.
Emma glanced at him long and hard, and again her expression revealed she was being careful in what she said. After a moment she inhaled deeply, plunging ahead. “There's only one person in this room who doesn't want to take things to the next level, Mike, and it isn't me."
Well, at least he knew where she stood. In addition, it was obvious she understood the turmoil and indecision he was battling. “You're not ready.” He didn't sound very convincing.
“No, you're the one not ready,” she interrupted, running a nail down his chest where the robe parted. The belt prevented her from going any further than his waist. “Maybe I had qualms before, but I know what I want Mike."
Damn, he hadn't stepped away far enough. He clenched his hands into a fist to keep from ripping the robe open and forcing her hand the rest of the way down to his pulsing flesh. “Don't say it.” Desperation bordered the mild threat in his tone.
Emma plowed on as though he hadn't spoken. “I've already said it once, I want you.” Her tone almost demanded he do something about it.
“You want forever after."
She made an impatient sound. “Did I say that?"
“You're that kind of woman."
“There's a little bit of Lola in every woman,” she said surprisingly, making an obvious attempt to hold back a grin by biting down on her bottom lip.
Mike narrowed his gaze on her. “I don't believe you.” He didn't want to believe her. “You're not going to convince me you want a sexual relationship with no strings attached."
“Did I say that?” She gave him a wink. “I expect dinner now and again, maybe a movie or two. And flowers, flowers would definitely be nice."
“This isn't a joke Emma. There's no use beating around the bush, you know exactly why I don't want to get involved with anyone right now. I have Melissa to think about."
“Then why are you here, detective?"
She had him, the little witch! He stepped away from her, the scowl on his face directed at himself because he hadn't seen it coming. Emma had very neatly trapped him into a situation of his own making. Yet he couldn't help asking himself the same question, why was he there?
He knew better than to keep putting temptation in his path, especially one as appealing as Emma. Yet something kept him from walking away. She was different from all the rest. Her attempt to make him believe otherwise didn't wash and Mike suspected she was saying what she thought he wanted to hear.
“I don't know why,” he said finally, painfully aware how inadequate it sounded.
Emma shook her head slowly, making a little ticking sound with her mouth. “I know why,” she began, meeting Mike's gaze head on. It didn't help that she had a look of infinite wisdom in her eyes. “You want me too."
At that moment Mike wanted her more than he thought humanly possible. In spite of that he resisted the impulse to grab her and show her how much. How could he argue with her when she'd hit the nail square on the head? He clenched his jaw when it dawned on him how intuitive she was, practically jumping back when her finger began to wiggle beneath the belt. His involuntary action caused a ripple of laughter from her.
“Why, detective, you're not afraid of me, are you?” she teased in a beguiling manner that warmed his heart. Her eyes were overflowing with amusement, that soft mouth of hers a tempting invitation Mike knew he didn't have the strength to resist. He took a deep breath, more to steady his nerves, holding his ground when she began to lean in closer.
She looked dangerous.
“Emma,” he cautioned. But damn her, she kept right on coming and Mike had no alternative but to back up, which only produced more laughter, the throaty sound of her amusement running over him like warm honey on a hot bun. Secondly, the look on her face unnerved him. He wondered what she was up to. A moment ago he'd been the one doing the pursuing; he'd been the one in control. He didn't know if he liked the predatory gleam of determination in her eyes. His heart slammed against his ribs, forcing the blood through his veins like a river running out of control.
“You are afraid of me!” Emma breathed in a little whisper of amazement, backing him up against the refrigerator. “Are you terrified little old me is capable of hurting a big, strong man like you?"
She halted just inches away, but Mike could feel her breath on his bare chest. He could smell her arousal, the alluring scent of spicy heat teasing him, breaking down his senses until it made him want to say the hell with it and take what she was offering. “Maybe I'm afraid of myself,” he offered, letting Emma entrap him by placing her hands against the refrigerator on either side of him. “You don't know what you're doing. I'm barely holding on by a thread."
There was that sexy laugh of hers again, raking over him like a thousand hands, all of them softly arousing, touching him everywhere at once. Her eyes were soft and slightly glazed, the lids half lowered. She wet her lips nearly causing him heart failure.
“Hmm, what do I have to do to break that thread?” Her warm breath on his skin, then her moist lips did the trick. Mike groaned with weakness, his body shuddering when she ran her open mouth over him.
He let her have control for a minute, content to run with the feelings she evoked, enjoying the rush of need that had never been fully extinguished. As her warm mouth moved lower he came to his senses, dropping his hands to her shoulders and forcing her up. “I think you've effectively broken that thread, Lola. I'm torn between having my way with you in front of the fire or walking away while I still can.” He sucked in air to fill his empty lungs.
“Lola would never let you walk away,” she teased, fingering the material covering his shoulders. “Especially wearing her favorite satin robe."
A reluctant grin twitched on his lips. “And how would she stop me?"
“Oh, there's ways, detective. Unfortunately I don't have enough of Lola's bad girl experience to pull off anything, ah, mind blowing."
“Don't underestimate yourself sweetheart. What you were doing just a moment ago nearly drove me to my knees.” His heart was still beating like a jackhammer-pounding pavement. “Without half trying you turn this big, strong man into a mountain of jelly."
Emma's pleased look went straight to Mike's heart. She opened her mouth to say something but the sound of a key being inserted into the front door lock held her temporarily speechless. Mike tensed for a second until he realized if someone were breaking in they'd hardly be using a key.
Emma whipped her head around to glance at the antique clock on the mantle above the fireplace. “Four-thirty, how can that be? The clock in my bedroom said two-thirty."
Mike's gaze followed hers as she began looking around the kitchen, her gaze landing on the various appliances. The blinking lights indicated the power had apparently gone out at some time during the onset of the storm, and before they'd returned. Something they hadn't noticed before now. Realization of what happened crossed their minds at the same time and their gazes collided. Whoever was at the door had finally unlocked it and was turning the knob.
“It's Amanda and Troy,” Emma explained in a panicked whisper, stepping away from him. “They're here for a movie and dinner.” She quickly moved to the counter and opened the picnic basket, her movements slightly capricious as she began to unpack it.
“Good idea,” he said in reference to her unpacking the basket. “And maybe it's a good time to check the status of my clothes."
* * * *
“Best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I've had in a long time,” Troy quipped after devouring a third one without any problem. His expression resembled that of a satisfied ten year old as he rubbed his belly, giving Amanda a playful wink. “Add peanut butter to our shopping list, sweetie."
“For sure.” She rolled her eyes as if saying over her dead body.
They'd decided to spread a blanket in front of the fire and the four of them were sitting Indian fashion, facing one another while eating off paper plates. Emma could still recall the startled, yet pleased look on her sister's face when she'd opened the door to see Mike quickly disappearing into the laundry room. She hadn't tried to hide the look of triumph she tossed Troy as he stepped in behind her.
“I'm glad you weren't disappointed that it wasn't the lasagna I'd promised.” Emma smiled, munching on a pickle. “It would have been a shame to waste a good picnic lunch.” Her eyes went to Mike, who was sitting across from her, watching her quietly. He'd barely said two words in the hour since Troy and Amanda had let themselves in. “What about you, Mike? Is peanut butter your style?” she teased.
“It does bring back memories.” He grinned crookedly. “But I can't recall ever drinking a beer with one. Mom usually served it with milk."
The heat of the fire was nothing compared to the warmth Emma felt inside when Mike's gaze moved over her lazily. “It was beer or orange juice.” Her interest dropped to his damp shirt and even damper jeans. She was surprised when he'd emerged from the laundry room fully dressed when it was apparent his clothes were still wet. She guessed the fear of being seen in her robe far outweighed any discomfort or teasing he'd suffer in the long run.
“What's on the agenda for the rest of the evening?” Amanda asked, settling back against Troy, who wrapped his arms around her midriff naturally. “Unless you and Mike planned on going night fishing?"
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than the windows vibrated with another crash of thunder. The storm hadn't let up one bit since their mad dash from the boat, and the power had flickered off and on more than once. “I think we can safely rule that out.” Emma began gathering up the empty paper plates.
“I'm afraid I'm going to have to eat and run.” All eyes turned to Mike but Emma was the one he made direct eye contact with. It was clear he didn't want to leave. “It will be dark soon, I don't like leaving Melissa home by herself,” he explained.
Revealing he was a concerned and caring father was a quality that only endeared Mike to Emma even more. There was a lot about him that appealed to her. Yet right now she was trying not to show her disappointment, covering it with a carelessly tossed remark. “Oh, for a minute there I was afraid it was something I did."
He made a negative gesture with a shake of his head. “Good food, good beer, good music.” He hesitated for a moment, staring at Emma until she was sure everyone in the room saw the heat creeping up her neck. “And very good company,” he finished in a low voice.
She knew she was blushing like a silly schoolgirl but didn't care. “I aim to please,” she tossed back.
“Well, while you two are saying goodbye, we'll go pick out a movie to watch,” Amanda cut in, motioning for Troy to follow her when she got to her feet. However, Troy was so focused on the exchange between Emma and Mike that she had to shout his name to get his attention. “Troy!"
“What?” he inquired with confusion. Apparently the look on Amanda's face got through to him and he rushed to his feet, offering Emma and Mike a sheepish look as he left the room with her.
Emma's soft chuckle filled the room. She turned back to Mike, who as far as she could tell hadn't taken his eyes off her. “The day didn't exactly turn out as we planned.” She blushed, realizing how that could be interpreted. “What I mean is, the rain—"
“I know what you mean,” he interrupted. “And I'm not complaining about the rain.” His eyes crinkled with humor, warming Emma even more. Goodness at this rate she would have to put out the fire in the hearth!
“There's a policeman's dance Thursday night. Something the mayor puts on every year as appreciation for the rest of us making him look good. Got anything in your closet that will go with a purple eye?"
Her gentle laugh rippled through the air, her gaze settling on the eye in question. The discoloration was almost gone now, appearing more like a dark shadow from lack of sleep. She decided not to question the invitation or his taking it for granted she would go with him. Emma wanted to be with Mike, sensing their relationship had progressed beyond those polite little necessities. “I think I can come up with something suitable."
“Good. I'll pick you up at seven.” He turned to leave.
Her eyes rounded with mild disbelief. “Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?"
She watched him stiffen, his hand on the doorknob. Her soft words lingered in the air between them. “I don't think that's a good idea.” His voice was uncompromising yet oddly gentle.
“Why?” Her silky voice held a challenge. “Not even a little peck on the cheek?” she teased, her eyes moving over the width of his shoulders, looking for a sign that he was going to relent.
The only part of Mike that moved was his head when he turned to look at Emma over his shoulder. “I don't believe in little pecks unless you're a relative. The next time I kiss you, lady, it won't be goodnight."
His words fueled Emma's curiosity and desire, yet there was nothing she could do about it now. Not with Amanda and Troy waiting for her in the living room. Deciding it wouldn't be fair to either of them by pursuing his comment she remained quiet, watching him open the door and disappear into the downpour.
With a wistful sigh she watched as he sprinted to his truck. Once inside he glanced up and for a moment their gazes met and held. Her heart constricted and the truth hit Emma at that precise instant.
She was head over heels in love with Mike Denton.
Chapter 18
As it turned out Emma didn't have anything in her closet suitable to wear to the dance, much less anything that came close to matching the color surrounding Mike's eye. However a quick trip to a little boutique specializing in attire for after hours, with Amanda in tow, quickly took care of that. Their daylong outing into town had turned into a shopping spree since Amanda had persuaded her into practically updating her complete wardrobe. Emma hadn't minded letting her sister pick out most of her clothes, yet when it came to selecting something for her special date with Mike, she put a halt to some of her outlandish choices.
She'd tried on several dresses in styles ranging from formal-down-to-her-ankles black, to something short and daring in pink. In the end opting for simple elegance in the way of a short, sleeveless black dress with a matching beaded jacket. The cut of the dress, with its scooped neckline and split from hem to mid thigh was designed to keep a man interested, though Emma didn't think Mike needed any encouragement in that area. Intuition told her the outcome of their evening would be a significant turning point in their relationship.
When the night of the dance finally arrived, she kept her makeup at a minimum, taking special care in dabbing a touch of her favorite perfume behind each ear and exposed cleavage. She smiled as a wicked thought prompted her to place some behind the curve of her knees as well.
The full-length mirror provided her with a thorough view of what Mike was going to see when she opened the front door. The black dress stopped way above her knees, fitting her form like a soft glove and showing her shape to an advantage. Definitely revealing; her workouts were paying off. The bodice complimented her rounded breasts while the tight waistline accentuated her waist, flowing like a midnight waterfall over her shapely hips. Black silk stockings encased her legs, producing a naughty image when she thought about them. They'd been a last minute purchase Amanda had talked her into. She'd never owned a pair of real stockings before and had to admit that the look of them with the garter belt and three-inch heels made her legs appear long and sexy.
Emma wondered what Mike would think as she slipped on a pair of dangling garnet earrings. She wanted to know, but was she brave enough to face the consequences dressing provocatively would reveal? Yes, she decided after a moment, she was more than ready for the sexy detective's response. Brushing her hair, she grabbed an antique comb decorated with garnet stones and clipped it on top of her head in a casual fashion that left several strands of loose curls against her neck.
As she slipped into the jacket, she glanced at the clock, expecting the doorbell to ring at any time.
* * * *
Mike turned off the ignition and sat in his truck for a few minutes, staring at Emma's door while wondering for the hundredth time what he'd gotten himself into. Inviting her to the dance had been a spur of the moment thing, and at the time had seemed right. He'd needed a date and up until that point his only possibilities had either been Melissa or the little old lady who handed him his mail every morning at the local post office.
He'd picked up the phone several times during the last few days to call and cancel, the policeman's dance wasn't something he usually attended anyway. He didn't mind being appreciated but show it in his paycheck. Besides, he hated dressing up. Yet there he was because he hadn't followed through with his plans to cancel. In the end he couldn't do that to Emma. It wasn't her fault he found her attractive, or that good old-fashioned lust was eating him up inside. Only he was honest enough to admit his feelings had grown to include something a hell of a lot more than just an itch.
Somehow without realizing it he found himself at her front door, ringing the bell, a feeling in his gut similar to the excitement he'd experienced when he'd had his first kiss in grade school. Hell, he was already growing warm with the anticipation of where this evening would end. He saw Emma's shadow pass by the semi-sheer curtains and then she was opening the door with a welcoming smile on her beautiful face the size of the sun. And lord she was beautiful. Mike tried to swallow but a lump lodged in his throat. His eyes raked over her hungrily, starting from the top of her head all the way down to her slender ankles and those sexy high heels.
His first instinct was to grab her and kiss her breathless but he knew what a colossal mistake that would be. They'd never make it to the dance because if he kissed her he wasn't going to let her go. He tried like hell to ignore the lower half of his body and the fact that it was pounding painfully behind a tight zipper. And he'd thought he had control? These days he was acting like a randy teenager.
“Good evening,” Emma said and beamed prettily, her eyes shining with a sparkle of happiness that held him bewitched. She stepped back so Mike could enter. “You look good enough to eat, detective."
Mike nearly swallowed his tongue, knowing Emma wasn't aware of the double meaning behind her innocent comment. If she knew what vision her words conjured up she'd slam the door in his face, or would she? It took real effort to force a smile he was far from feeling. “Then you'd definitely be the dessert,” he returned, hesitating from walking past the threshold. “You're breathtaking."
Her smile widened. “Why thank you. Are you coming in or are we leaving right away?"
“I think it's safer if we go now.” The secretive smile in her eyes made him nervous, like she knew something he didn't. “Unless you're not ready?"
“Just let me get my purse."
When Emma turned to retrieve it from the kitchen countertop Mike's gaze fell, taking in the provocative swing of her backside before sliding down the backs of her million dollar legs. He closed his eyes, but that only sharpened his other senses. The tantalizing scent she left behind made him ravenous ... dizzy.
“Are you okay?"
He opened his eyes to see the concern reflected on her face as she came closer. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, instead reaching forward to take her gently by the arm. As he ushered her outside he closed the door, making sure it was locked.
“Is that little jacket going to be enough?” he asked as they walked to his truck. The weather didn't call for snow but the temperature had dropped considerably.
“I hadn't thought of that; maybe I better go back and get one for later."
As she moved to turn, Mike grabbed her arm, halting her. Ignoring her soft gasp, he swung her around until she was facing him. For a moment he allowed himself the luxury of leaning against his truck and pulling her close. He knew he was courting trouble but he wanted to feel her against him.
“Forget it, I'll keep you warm,” he commented, drawing in a long breath. “Damn, you smell good.” His head came down but just before his lips touched hers he jerked back. What was he doing? “Hell, sweetheart, you make me forget everything. We'd better get going."
He opened the truck door but Emma hesitated, pinning him with those smoky eyes of hers. Her silky tone was serious, slightly disappointed. And very seductive. “I guess hello kisses are out, too?"
“You want to go dancing?” She nodded, a mischievous look spreading across her features. She knew, damn her! “Then don't tempt me,” he said gruffly.
“But..."
“And if I were you, I'd keep quiet until we get to the dance.” He quickly ushered her inside. “I just might be able to pretend you're not sitting next to me and concentrate long enough to make it there without an accident."
Her soft laughter filled the cab of the truck, and Mike's heart.
* * * *
Emma watched Mike walk around the front of the truck, smiling at the fierce expression stamped on his handsome face and wondering what put it there. Her comment about him looking good enough to eat was an understatement. He cleaned up nice. Not that he looked all that unappealing in casual or regular clothes, but in formal attire he made her think of Cinderella's Prince Charming. She glanced down at her black heels with a quirky grin, wondering if she'd be losing more than her shoes that night. It was just a matter of time before the right moment presented itself and they gave into temptation.
Sighing heavily, she settled back against the seat, determined to respect his wishes and remain quiet. Sooner or later he'd have to talk to her. For a while she watched the scenery, glad the radio was on to drown out the silence. She listened to several country western songs before peeking at Mike from the corner of her eye. He appeared to be concentrating so hard on driving that she might as well not be there.
Suddenly Emma couldn't stand the silence any longer. “I see you got your window repaired.” She rolled her eyes at the inapt comment, not exactly what she had on her mind to draw him into conversation.
He shot her a look of amusement, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. “A couple weeks ago,” he confirmed.
Had it been that long? “Oh.” She grew quiet for a moment. “Did you ever catch the person who took a shot at us?"
Again Mike spared her a tolerant glance. “No, and do we really want to talk about something that happened almost a month ago?"
“Don't you think we need to talk?"
Over the radio Emma could make out his resigned sigh, sensing he understood exactly what she meant. “About?” He kept his gaze on the road. These days it got dark early and anything was bound to jump out in front of them.
Oh Lord, was he going to make her put it into words? She took a deep breath, working up her courage. “Us?” She bit down on her bottom lip when it came out sounding weak and unsure.
Mike's head whipped her way and this time his eyes remained on her much longer. If he said there was no us, she'd clobber him. Therefore, it was with great surprise that he accepted her hand when she reached over and took his. “I'm not going to insult your intelligence by denying there is an us,” he started out by saying. “The fact that you're here next to me is proof that we're involved, sort of."
Emma chuckled, saying before she could help it, “Sort of?” Did he think because they hadn't made love yet they were any less involved?
Mike's answering laugh was rich and deep with feeling. “Do you want me to spell it out for you?"
She glanced away, feeling her cheeks grow warm recalling all the times he'd kissed and caressed her. “I know you want me.” She prayed her body wasn't all he wanted.
“Sweetheart...” Sharp laughter escaped him and he surprised Emma by pulling her over to his side of the truck, “That's an understatement. I want to make one thing clear, Emma, when I want a woman I don't usually have any qualms about making love to her. As long as she knows the score."
Confusion laced her tone. “But you have qualms about making love to me, why?” She sensed his reluctance to answer, praying he overcame his reservations long enough to tell her something she could live with.
“Because with you it's different,” he said after awhile.
“How so?” His shrug should have annoyed her but she could tell he wasn't comfortable with where their conversation was heading. “Are you afraid of something?"
Like most men, Mike didn't like being accused of being afraid of anything and he tossed her a small frown. Emma only smiled sweetly until he mumbled something beneath his breath before dragging his eyes away. She wasn't about to back down, sensing what he seemed unwilling to admit. He cared about her but to what degree? She decided the only way she was going to find out was to press him for answers. However, just as she opened her mouth his cell phone rang, and she felt an instant loss when he was forced to release her hand to reach for it.
“Yeah?"
She watched his changing expression, sensing that whoever was on the other end of the line was telling him something he didn't want to hear. He didn't say much, making a few sounds that indicated he understood before finally responding, “I'm five minutes away, I'll be right there."
Even before he turned her way she figured their evening was about to change. He pressed his foot to the gas, slightly accelerating their speed. “That was Mrs. Dawson; she stays with Melissa when I have to go out nights. Melissa's sick. We'll swing by to check it out."
“I hope it's nothing serious."
“Me too, Melissa's never sick.” He offered her an apologetic smile. “I hate to say it but there's a good possibility tonight's off. Maybe I should drive you home first."
“Nonsense. We're closer to your home than mine. Besides, if she's sick there might be something I can do to help."
“Thanks. If I know Mrs. Dawson, she'll want to take off as soon as I get there. She's a sweet old lady but a hypochondriac—wears a surgical mask out in public and everything."
Chapter 19
Before long, Mike pulled off onto a driveway marked private. The dark winding road was nothing more than a strip of gravel with a ribbon of low cut grass running down the center of it. Green pines and maples blanketed in leaves the color of autumn, and white birch trees stood tall on either side like guardians in the night. Only the maple and birch were losing their leaves in preparation for winter.
An outside light gave Emma a good view of the rustic log cabin that was Mike's home, which was located in a small clearing at the end of his driveway. Light coming from a large picture window revealed several chairs and a swing on the front porch that went from one corner of the house to the other.
No sooner had they pulled along side the ancient station wagon parked in front did the screen door open and a woman appear in the threshold, wearing a worried expression on her cracked face. She was wringing her hands and looked like she was ready to bolt. Emma guessed her age to be somewhere close to sixty. Her short, plump stature and outdated floral dress was something straight out of the fifties, causing Emma to smile.
Mrs. Dawson waited patiently for them to exit the truck and stride closer to the porch before addressing Mike. “I'm sorry to ruin your evening but Melissa's definitely not feeling well. It might be the flu or something. I think I should go."
“Did she say what's wrong? Does she have a fever?” He frowned, taking the porch steps two at a time.
“No, no fever. She's complaining that her stomach hurts and she has a headache.” She stepped aside so he and Emma could enter. “It started right after you left. She begged me not to call you but if she has something contagious..."
“Mrs. Dawson, this is Emma Stuart,” Mike continued, walking toward the stairs. “I'll be right down."
All of a sudden Emma found herself alone with Mrs. Dawson, who turned for something hanging on a peg on the wall next to the stairs. There was no denying she was eager to leave. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dawson.” Emma placed her evening clutch on the small table next to the door.
“Same here, dearie. It's been a long time since Mike has brought anyone nice home with him. The last time it was some red headed, please excuse my description, floozy type who dressed like a, well you know,” she whispered the last part, “lady of the evening.” She quickly slipped into her heavy wool coat.
Emma bit her bottom lip to keep it from curving upwards. The last thing she wanted was to insult Mrs. Dawson by laughing at her description of Mike's date when she sounded so serious about it.
“I'm sure what ails Melissa is nothing serious but a woman my age can't be too careful you know, what with the cost of health care these days.” She reached for a large black purse the size of a small suitcase. “Mike will understand that I can't stay after this; please tell him to call and let me know how Melissa is.” She headed for the door without a backward glance. “The poor dear."
Before Emma knew it, she was left standing at the door, watching Mrs. Dawson's one taillight as she drove slowly away. Closing the door against the chill, she turned in time to see Mike calmly walking down the stairs. He didn't seem surprised to find her alone.
“I take it Mrs. Dawson couldn't wait to fly out of here?” His hands made short work at pulling off his jacket and laying it over the banister.
Emma's nod confirmed it. “How's Melissa?"
The look on his face gave his frustration away. “She says the same thing Mrs. Dawson said, she has a bellyache but hasn't been sick or anything.” He absentmindedly began tugging at his tie. Emma stepped forward when he finally reached the bottom of the stairs, reaching for it. Their eyes met briefly as she began to work the knot loose.
“What's wrong Mike? You don't seem convinced of that.” She slowly pulled the tie from around his neck. He took it from her, surprising her by draping it around her neck and jerking her close.
“I'm not sure. She acted kind of strange, distant, for lack of a better word. Reluctant to discuss it other than to say she'd be okay and for me not to worry. I left her curled up in a little ball watching TV."
“A stomach ache, huh?” Something clicked in Emma's mind. Melissa was at that age where she could be experiencing her first time, which she knew, could be a very unpleasant and frightening experience. Especially for a young girl that didn't have someone around to talk to about it. She leaned forward, kissing Mike on the chin before realizing what she was doing. “Would you like me to go up and see her?"
He seemed immediately relieved. “Would you mind? I have a feeling...” He glanced away nervously.
Was he blushing? “I think we have the same feeling,” she said softly, smiling in the face of his uncertain expression.
“I'm sorry your evening was ruined. I can't even get you home now, but I can call someone."
“My evening isn't ruined and we'll discuss how I'm going to get home later,” she cut in, turning to go up the stairs. “Which door?"
“Second on the left."
Knowing Mike's eyes were following her as she went upstairs, Emma purposely exaggerated the sway of her hips for his entertainment. His appreciative whistle was her reward and she tossed him a come hither look over her shoulder, blowing him a Lola kiss.
“You're going to pay for that sweetheart,” he called up to her softly.
“I look forward to it,” she whispered back brazenly, just before reaching Melissa's door. She hesitated, hoping her presence was welcome. “Melissa?” After knocking softly she opened the door a crack, listening for a response, “It's Emma. May I come in?"
“Yes.” Her reply was low and pitiful sounding.
Emma closed the door behind her, skirting around the bed to the side Melissa was facing as she watched TV. Offering the girl a sympathetic smile she sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you having an unpleasant first time, honey?” She reached out and grasped her hand.
Melissa's eyes widened as though Emma had just performed a miraculous act or something. “How did you know?” she asked in a hushed tone.
Reaching forward, Emma brushed the hair away from her pale face, noticing she felt a little warm in spite of what Mrs. Dawson said. “A lucky guess. You're at that age.” Melissa made a face and clutched her belly. “Is there a heating pad in the house?"
“I think there's one in the hall closet. Dad sometimes uses it on his leg."
“I'll be right back."
Emma found the hallway closet without any trouble, rummaging through the neat contents until she spied the heating pad at the bottom in a basket. After grabbing it she went to the bathroom and searched the medicine cabinet to see what Mike had in there for pain.
“Have you taken anything for the cramps yet?” she asked Melissa upon entering the room again. Shaking her head negatively, Emma handed her the pills she'd found, reaching for the glass of water sitting on the nightstand. “Take these, honey, they'll help."
“Will it be like this every month?” she whined in exaggerated misery, putting the empty glass down.
Emma smiled, quickly averting her face in the pretext of looking for an outlet for the heating pad. “It shouldn't be now that you know how to treat it. The heating pad works wonders.” She sat back on the bed and set it on low. “This little trick is fail proof. Lay on your back, bend your knees and place this pad on your lower belly. The heat will draw out the pain and after awhile the cramps will be gone."
Melissa did as she was instructed, allowing Emma to arrange one of the spare pillows beneath her knees. “Thank you."
Emma sat back, smiling down at her. “Anytime honey, I'm glad I was around to help. Your dad was worried about you."
“I was too embarrassed to tell him,” she admitted, blushing. “I tried to keep it from Mrs. Dawson but once she suspected I wasn't feeling well I knew she'd call him. She has this phobia about being around sick people."
“Yes I know; some people are like that."
“I guess I ruined your evening. You look very pretty."
“Thank you, and you didn't spoil our evening. This way you and I get to know each other a little better. How did you do on your Roosevelt essay last week?"
“Roosevelt essay?” she frowned, her brows furrowing deeply with confusion. “But I didn't...” Then she halted, all but bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. As her eyes rounded, it was that precise moment when Emma guessed the truth. She'd fibbed about having a report to do. As the seconds raced by she watched the varying emotions cross her young face, leaving her cheeks crimson. She lowered her eyes with obvious guilt. “Please don't tell Dad."
“Tell him what?” Emma encouraged in a neutral tone, needing to hear the truth. “What did you do honey?"
She refused to raise her eyes. “I kind of told a little white lie. I do have an essay to write but it's not due until next Wednesday. I thought if I stayed home then you two could be alone with each other and, and maybe...” She shrugged her shoulders. “My dad's crazy about you,” she blurted, changing the subject, causing Emma's brows to arch high with surprise. “Do you like him?"
Emma rose to her feet, afraid their conversation was heading toward a dangerous topic she wasn't ready to discuss with Mike's daughter. “I don't think we should be having this..."
“It's true!” Melissa insisted, grabbing her by the hand to keep her from leaving.
Emma stared at her for a moment, a reluctant smile forming on her mouth. “How do you know that?"
She gave a small yawn, closing her eyes. “I just know. He's been acting all weird lately and, well, I can tell you're crazy about him too. Are you mad at me?"
She was crazy about Mike, but Emma wasn't about to admit it to Melissa, at least not until Mike knew how she felt about him. Not about to encourage Melissa to continue Emma decided to change the subject and quick. “Of course not, sweetie. Is there anything else I can get you before I leave?"
Melissa shook her head without opening her eyes. “No, thank you."
As Emma closed Melissa's door, she couldn't help wondering how a thirteen-year-old could make such an astute observation. Most girls her age were usually so wrapped up in themselves they thought the world revolved around them. She was halfway down the stairs when she paused with pleasant surprise, noticing several things simultaneously. A delicious aroma drifting up to her, a fire had been lit in the fireplace and the coffee table in front of it had been set up with two place settings.
“I can't do anything about the dancing but the least I can do is replace the dinner you missed."
Emma turned slightly to see Mike emerging from what she guessed was the kitchen, carrying a large tray in his hands. “It smells wonderful,” she said, joining him at the bottom of the stairs and following him to the living room. “You have a nice home, Mike. I like the décor. Did you do it all by yourself or did you get some assistance by that red headed floozy Mrs. Dawson told me about?"
He set the tray down and straightened, his eyes filled with amusement. “As a matter of fact I did it myself, thank you.” He closed the distance between them, a look of purpose in his eyes. “And we're not really going to have a discussion about Lacy Jones, are we?"
“Lacy Jones?” Emma began to feel slightly nervous, but in a delicious way, when Mike reached forward. The trailing ends of his tie were resting on her breasts and his fingers teasingly brushed against them as he took hold of it.
“The red headed floozy,” he explained, slowly pulling her toward him. “How's Melissa?"
“It's what we both expected. I gave her some Tylenol and the heating pad. She could hardly keep her eyes open by the time I left."
He gave a little jerk to his tie, which caused Emma to stumble against him. “I don't know why she couldn't have told me.” He sounded slightly disappointed.
As her head fell back, she met the growing desire in his eyes. “It's a girl thing.” Her sigh became a moan as Mike purposely teased her sensitive nipples with his knuckles. He lowered his face, causing her to catch her breath.
“I'm glad you were here to help her."
“Me too,” she agreed softly.
“And you know what else?"
“Our dinner is going to get cold?” she joked, focusing her eyes on his mouth. She was hungry and it wasn't for food. Why didn't he kiss her?
His mouth curved upward as though he knew what she was feeling. “I want to kiss you."
His words caused her pulse to throb. “What's stopping you?” she whispered, waiting patiently for his mouth to finally touch hers.
“I promised myself I wouldn't kiss you until the time was right,” he responded without hesitation.
“And when will that be, detective?” she demanded to know in a silky voice.
The look in his eyes turned dark and lazy. “When I can kiss all of you."
“Oh.” Emma couldn't think of anything to say after that. She was sure the heat enveloping her body had nothing to do with the fire burning brightly in the hearth. Then her belly rumbled loudly, causing them both to laugh and relax. “I think my body's trying to tell you something."
Mike took her by the hand, pulling her with him to sit at the coffee table. Her eyes rounded with appreciation when he removed the lid of a silver dish, revealing two perfectly cooked omelets complimented with a side of what appeared to be homemade applesauce. She watched him uncork a bottle of wine and pour them each a glass. In spite of the fact that Melissa was upstairs sleeping everything was perfect. Furthermore, she found she'd much rather be there with Mike than on some crowded dance floor somewhere. She smiled when he glanced her way, accepting the glass and taking a little sip.
The long look they exchanged was full of heat and promise. It was just a matter of time before they made love and they both knew it.
It was just a matter of time before she told Mike how she felt.
They ate in comfortable silence, watching each other. Several times Mike's gaze fell to Emma's mouth as it closed over her fork, turning the meaningless act into a sensual preliminary of things to come. Leaving the atmosphere charged with unspoken desires. She wondered what was going through his mind. His expression was hard to read, his eyes gentle and contemplative. It didn't take long before she was feeling excited inside.
“What are you thinking?” Mike surprised her by asking, reaching for his glass.
“That you're an excellent chef, that omelet was wonderful.” She sighed contentedly, skirting around the truth. There was no way she was going to acknowledge he'd turned her on by simply watching her eat. Dropping her fork she leaned back against the sofa, placing her hand on her full stomach.
“And that's just one of my many talents,” he admitted, grinning like a lazy wolf with something devious on his mind.
“I can't wait to see what the others are.” Reaching forward she scooped a dab of applesauce off her plate, bringing her finger toward her mouth. Mike's hand shot out, catching her wrist, halting her in the process.
“Come here.” He effortlessly pulled Emma over until she was half lying across his lap, guiding her finger to his mouth at the same time. Their eyes clashed with mutual awareness as his mouth slowly closed over her finger, sucking it clean.
“You are talented!” she gasped, feeling her heart race.
Mike leaned back, stretching his legs out in an effort to get more comfortable while arranging Emma more intimately against him. The movement caused her short skirt to ride up the back of her legs, but when she reached to pull it back in place his hand was there to stop her.
She raised questioning eyes to him. His teeth flashed white against the dimly lit room, the fire dancing wickedly in his aroused eyes. “Don't ruin the view,” he chastised, linking his hands loosely against the back of her waist. “You have very nice legs."
Chuckling, she relaxed, placing her head against his chest and snuggling into his warm body. “It's the stockings.” Emma had long ago slipped off her heels in favor of comfort. She caught her breath when Mike trailed his fingertips along the backs of her thighs, inching closer to the hem of her skirt. She wasn't ticklish, but when a finger glided higher, beneath the material, she shivered with delicious pleasure.
“Ticklish?” The humor in his tone was evident.
“Not exactly."
Mike's fingers roamed higher. “Then why are you shivering?"
Raising her head, she met his heavy lidded eyes. She didn't credit the lazy half-asleep look in them with being tired. “You know why."
His expression spread into a slow-moving grin of eroticism, causing her blood to boil. “Tell me,” he insisted, his fingers reaching the tops of Emma's stockings where the garter belt circled her thigh. She felt the change in his body almost instantly, his reaction proving he was on the same plateau of excitement she was. “You're full of surprises, sweetheart."
She gasped when his fingers slipped beneath the garter. “You have Amanda to thank for that. She said stockings are much sexier than pantyhose."
“Remind me to send her some flowers tomorrow."
“You like?” she asked in a smoky voice.
“I like,” he responded hoarsely.
Emma's soft chuckle rippled through the quiet room as she returned her head to Mike's chest. She didn't protest when he continued his intimate search, tenderly exploring the softness of her thighs above the stockings. Although when his fingers moved ever closer to her bottom she began to squirm, knowing that if he continued much further he was going to be in for an even bigger surprise.
“Mike...” Emma wasn't sure she wanted him to find out like this. She'd planned on their evening ending much differently than relaxing in front of the fireplace in his home with his daughter sleeping upstairs. “Mike, I'm not wearing...” But it was too late. She heard him suck in his breath, his fingers stilling for a moment. Emma could only guess what was going through his mind when it dawned on him that she wasn't wearing panties. Technically she was; Amanda had also talked her into buying a lacy thong. In the silence that followed she began to worry that she'd shocked him.
“Woman, are you trying to kill me?” With every word his hands glided slowly up until his palms were cupping her naked buttocks.
Laughing nervously, Emma tried to play the whole thing down. “I think it's called trying to turn you on,” she gasped, every nerve ending in her body alive with pleasant sensation. “I guess Amanda's a bad influence."
“And I'm the one who's going to pay the price.” He gave her bottom a gentle squeeze, growling low in his throat.
His fingers were hot against her flesh, branding Emma where they touched her. “I don't think it was meant as a form of punishment,” she teased, arching her hips into the cradle of his. Taking pleasure in the power of his strong arousal.
It occurred to Emma if they were to unzip his pants and move her thong aside he could slip inside her where they both wanted him to be. Her breath began to come out in little pants at the picture that presented, of them making love before the fire. Before she knew what she was doing she unbuttoned several buttons on his dress shirt, putting her mouth on his hot flesh.
“Sweetheart...” He sounded as though he was in pain, losing control and roughly massaging the soft flesh of her bottom. Emma continued to run her open mouth along his hot flesh, going a little crazy when one of his fingers dipped teasingly between her legs, brushing over the thin fabric covering her mound.
She pulled back to meet his desire-filled eyes, knowing the emotion mirrored what he saw in hers. “Yes, you want me to stop, detective?"
“Hell no,” he panted, taking a moment to enjoy the closeness of their bodies.
A long silence ensued as they gazed longingly into each other's eyes. Mike seemed undecided, sexual frustration clearly showing on his expression. He slowly started to lower his head, his eyes falling to her mouth.
Emma unconsciously raised her mouth toward him, inviting his kiss, licking her lips in anticipation. “I can't take you home tonight.” He sounded almost apologetic.
“I can sleep on the couch.” She'd be cozy there next to the fire.
“Like hell you will. I want you in my bed. I'll take the couch."
As much as Emma yearned for Mike's kiss, his touch, she knew his integrity as a father wouldn't allow it. Not as long as there was a chance Melissa could surprise them. She loved him all the more for his strength and caring, sensing it was as much for his daughter as it was for her. His warm breath brushed against her mouth in teasing sweeps and her tongue came out to stroke across his bottom lip. She felt a violent shudder rack his body, even as he distanced himself emotionally. She shivered in response, accepting his unspoken decision, knowing it was the only right thing for them to do.
Disappointment laced her words, in spite of her attempt to keep her tone light hearted. “Then kiss me goodnight, detective, and show me the way."
Chapter 20
Mike stood at the foot of his bed, staring down at the sleeping angel tangled in his covers. The fact that Emma was lying there, against his sheets, leaving her scent upon his pillows was a surprising turn on. She was on her side with one clutched to her as if she were holding her lover close, a secret little smile on her lips as she dreamed. Was she dreaming of him?
He carefully reached forward, brushing the wild hair off her face so he could better see her, holding his breath when she stirred slightly. Though she only moved closer to the pillow, moaning softly in her sleep. Mike pulled the quilt over her, reluctant to leave but knowing he must. Melissa was waiting for him downstairs, or so he thought.
“Dad?"
He pivoted to see her standing in the threshold of his doorway, quickly raising his finger to his lips in a gesture for her to be quiet. “How do you feel, kiddo?” he asked after shutting the door so they wouldn't disturb Emma. “You're dressed,” he added with surprise, taking in her jeans and heavy sweatshirt.
“It's a school day,” she reminded him in a tone that revealed she was surprised he could forget. “Friday, remember?” She hopped down the stairs in front of him.
“I thought you weren't feeling well.” He naturally assumed she'd be staying home today. However, Melissa wasn't like some kids who came up with any excuse not to attend school. She actually liked it.
“Emma fixed me up. I'm okay now."
“What about breakfast..."
“I'll eat a breakfast bar on the way to school.” She reached for her coat, her eyes straying to the living room and noticing the blanket and pillow on the couch. “Did you sleep on the sofa last night?
Not because he'd wanted to. “Yep. Mrs. Dawson left Emma stranded here. I couldn't take her home and leave you here alone.” He watched her zip up her coat. “You sure you feel well enough for school?"
Nodding, Melissa explained, “I don't want to miss today. I have a big science test and Mrs. Waller doesn't give make-ups unless you have a doctor's excuse. She's a real..."
“Melissa..."
“Witch,” she continued, pulling a knit hat down on top of her head with a big grin. “You know, I really like Emma, Dad, and she's crazy about you.” Mike's brows rose and he crossed his arms. “And you're crazy about her too. Admit it."
“How did you get to be so smart?” he questioned with amusement, not bothering to argue with her when deep down he knew she was right. He was more than crazy about Emma. And he was glad Melissa liked her too.
She paused to think as if her answer really mattered. “I think certain wisdom comes with entering womanhood,” she said with seriousness. Mike nearly bit through his bottom lip to keep from laughing. “You like her, don't you, Dad?” She opened the door, waiting patiently for his response, her eyes watchful.
Mike could see the approaching school bus barreling down his drive. He was lucky the bus driver didn't mind coming all the way down his road, since they were the only ones who lived there. “The bus is here.” It quickly became apparent she wasn't moving until he answered her. He sighed deeply. “Yes, I like her. Satisfied? Now go to school!"
A wide grin broke out on her face and she gave him a big hug and kiss on the cheek before twirling and running for the bus. Mike closed the door and turned, his eyes automatically drawn to the top of the stairs where his sleeping angel stood with her arms crossed, and a pleased expression on her face. As though waiting for him. He moved until he was standing directly at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes eating her up.
“Good morning, detective,” she said in a smooth as honey tone, sleep still evident in her eyes.
“Good morning. Did you sleep all right?"
Emma nodded. “Very comfortable, thank you.” Once the polite necessities were over she got right to the point. “Melissa's feeling better this morning?” He gave a brief nod. “So, you like me,” she commented with an impish smile on her sleepy face. She looked lost in his shirt, making the mistake of crossing her arms. Suddenly the hem was sliding higher than mid thigh, giving Mike a better view of those shapely legs.
“Maybe just a little,” he replied, holding his hand up and making a gesture with two fingers showing her how much. “Do you like me?” He took a step up, then another. A burst of laughter escaped Emma, her cheeks coloring a becoming shade of rose. Mike had the sudden urge to run his hands through the wild hair falling around her shoulders, knowing that even as it appeared tangled it would be silky and full of life.
“Maybe just a little,” she said, mimicking his words and his gesture. “Now that we have that settled, what's next?” He took a step up, his eyes holding hers captive. “You look kind of hungry, detective."
“I'm ravenous,” he said simply, taking another step, his eyes moving over her like she was the next best thing to chocolate. All at once he untied his robe, slipping it off and letting it fall to the floor behind him.
In turn Emma began to slowly unbutton her shirt, mildly surprising Mike. “I think you're going the wrong way. The kitchen is that way.” She indicated the direction with a sweep of her arm, her gaze running down his length. “I like the sexy, low hanging pajama bottoms,” she said outrageously.
Mike ignored her last comment. “Maybe what I'm hungry for isn't in the kitchen,” he explained in a teasing drawl, continuing his slow ascent. With every step Emma undid another button. His mouth began to water with anticipation, his gaze falling briefly to take in the narrow strip of honeyed flesh she exposed. No bigger than an inch but with enough power to send a strong man to his knees. “I think this has been a long time in coming, sweetheart."
Holding her ground in spite of his obvious intentions Emma asked huskily, “What has?” She undid the button between her breasts. The last button.
Now Mike was the one laughing, but it didn't stop his progress as he took the last two steps to reach her. His gaze dropped to the triangle piece of lace that covered the heart of her, recalling the night before when he'd held and caressed her. She didn't back down or show the slightest inkling of doubt when he reached forward, slipping his hands inside the shirt at her waist and giving a sharp pull until she was flush against him. Her head fell back and her lips parted with pleasure when his hands continued around to caress the satiny half moons of her naked buttocks.
“How about if I just show you what I mean,” he asked hoarsely, leaning down to give her mouth a tender kiss. He'd meant it to be a brief sampling but the taste of mint on her mouth held him captive.
When he broke the kiss, she murmured, “I hope you don't mind that I borrowed your toothbrush."
The thought of her using something so personal of his, so intimate, fueled Mike's need. He lost himself in a more thorough kiss, practically devouring her soft lips. Her moan of pleasure calmed his fears that he was hurting her. She wound her arms around his neck and held him even closer, the lower half of her body moving purposefully against his, firing his blood. His hunger to gigantic proportions.
Yet as turned on as Mike was, he was clear minded enough to realize the dangerous position they were in at the top of the stairs. With a growl of frustration he scooped Emma up in his arms and headed for his bedroom. Her mirrored cry of disappointment turned into a small whimper. Glancing down, Mike felt his heart slam in his ribs at the wider strip of smooth flesh revealed by his actions, the tempting curve of her full breasts. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I want to do this right. Tumbling down a flight of steps isn't in my plans.” She smiled but remained silent.
When he reached the foot of his bed he gently lowered Emma to her feet, turning her into his embrace and kissing her hungrily, like he was never going to let her go. His hands again slipped inside her shirt pulling her to him, keeping her close to his aroused body. However, Emma needed no persuasion. She willingly melded against his length, her soft moans of pleasure echoing through his bedroom.
His hands began to roam over her satiny skin with purpose, smoothing up and down her back before exploring the sensuous curve of her hips. Her flesh was soft as a rose pedal, and just as fragrant, begging Mike to taste her. When his mouth left hers she cried out with protest but he didn't go far. He ran his tongue along the arch of her throat and over her collarbone, nipping her tenderly as he went along.
She began to tremble wildly in his arms, mewling softly. Clutching him to her she strained against his arousal until he nearly sank to the floor in weakness. He nudged her shirt aside so he could continue his erotic journey, tasting her, following the line of her collarbone with his lips as his hands searched for pleasure points that left her whimpering and gasping with pleasure.
Her hands fell to his pajama bottoms, her fingers confident in their quest to undo the drawstring. The material parted slightly, but instead of slipping her hands inside as Mike silently yearned for her to do, she was content to tease and explore him from the outside. The muscles in his legs quivered when her trailing fingers raked up and down the hard length of him. He felt a hotness in his loins that signaled how easy it would be for her to send him over the edge.
“Emma, sweet Emma!” He pushed his erection against her teasing fingers, silently pleading with her for more. “You're going to tease me into spoiling the moment for us if you're not careful,” he rasped in a hoarse tone.
“Really?” she gasped with pleasure, the light in her smoky eyes revealing her desire. “No will power, detective?” she asked huskily, trembling uncontrollably.
“Two can play at that game, sweetheart,” he warned raggedly, looking deeply into her eyes. As he held her gaze his hands slid up to her collarbone, beneath her shirt, slowly moving the material until it glided over her shoulders and down her arms, landing in a heap at their feet. His fingers went to the triangle of lace between her legs and without hesitation gave a sharp tug.
Emma gasped, her eyes rounding when she glanced down to see the thong hanging in Mike's hands.
For the first time she was completely naked before him.
Mike was certain he was seeing perfection. His warm gaze traveled over her hungrily, taking his time in a visual caress that almost did him in. She was no slim hipped maiden blushing with embarrassment, but a shapely woman with enough curves to fill his hands and satisfy his every need. Enough confidence in her sexuality to stand completely nude before him, taunting him with her rose tipped breasts and slender waist, the sensuous flare of her hips and thighs.
The very core of her.
She surprised him by saying softly if not a little bit shyly, “I believe it's your turn, detective."
A sensual grin played upon his mouth. “I believe I undressed you,” he pointed out in a sexy voice, leaving no doubt to what his meaning was.
Emma reached forward, her fingers taking hold of the waistband of his pajamas. “If you insist,” she breathed gently, not showing the least bit hesitation. “I think I can handle this.” She slowly began to peel his pajama bottoms from him.
Mike wasn't sure he could handle it. Their gazes clung. When Emma dropped to her knees before him to complete the task he felt her warm breath upon his torrid flesh, closing his eyes tightly trying to think of something else. Yet nothing came to mind other than the wicked thought of her loving him with her sweet mouth. He prayed for inner strength, and patience.
His very salvation.
“Damn...” He let go weakly, eyes bolting open when he felt the unexpected. Before rising to her feet, Emma had leaned forward, giving his throbbing flesh a lingering sweep of her tongue.
“You have a nice body,” she whispered with obvious pleasure, rising gracefully before him.
Mike grabbed her shoulders, the blood pounding in his veins. He lowered his mouth to hers, devouring its softness. Swallowing her moans of hunger and acceptance, answering the trust of her eager little tongue with his. One hand slid down her taut stomach to the swell of her hips, exploring her thighs and then moving up slowly. Emma stiffened slightly when his fingers tested her willingness, gently slipping across the damp petals of her womanhood in teasing sweeps. She was wet and warm.
“Did I hurt you?” He pulled back slightly, waiting for her response.
She shivered. “God no! You'll hurt me if you don't continue. I want you, Mike. I want you inside me so badly I can't..."
His savage kiss cut her off; the picture her words conjured up fired the lustful emotions in him until he'd reacted out of control. She arched against him, the feel of her dampness and heat against his pulsing flesh the final straw. With barely controlled restraint, he gently eased her down onto the bed, following her there and covering her body with his.
Emma welcomed him with an eager show, wrapping her arms around him, parting her thighs and arching against his throbbing hardness. She returned his ardent kisses, explored wherever she could reach him with her tongue and open mouth. Murmuring heated words against his ear that were meant to enflame him even more. His hand curled around her breast, bringing the tempting fruit to his mouth as the need to taste a taut nipple overcame him. She cried out when his mouth closed around her, his tongue continuing the torture once he had her stiff nipple inside. Her hands fell to his head, her fingers threading through his thick hair.
“Mike!” she gasped, then again when one hand trailed down her body to the spot between her legs. He slipped a finger inside; the wet heat of her muscles closed around him, holding him imprisoned.
“What sweetheart? Tell me what pleases you."
“Oh Mike...” Emma began to thrash her head against the pillow, her hips moving uncontrollably when he teased and explored her hungry flesh with tender strokes, gliding over the nub of her desire until she was twisting beneath him. “Please..."
Mike moved to her other breast, loving it with the same amount of attention and zeal he'd given the first. She had beautiful breasts. She was beautiful. It had been leading up to this moment for weeks. Nothing else mattered.
He was going to make Emma his in every sense of the word.
He was going to love Emma the way she deserved to be loved.
Because he loved her...
Chapter 21
Tears slipped through Emma's closed lids as Mike made love to her in a tender, loving way. Taking his time and seeing to her every need, as well as his own, loving every square inch of her as though she was a goddess. Someone he cherished. As if he loved her.
She didn't know how much more she could take as his mouth moved over her aching breasts in a scorching path, firing the hunger in her a thousand times over with his teasing tongue and gentle teeth. Her fingers clutched his head, torn between pulling him away and holding him closer. Never had she experienced such shattering pleasure, not even in her wildest dreams. His touch sent currents of desire licking through her, forcing her to match his urgency with her own lusty demands.
Man against woman, flesh against flesh, her breasts tingled against Mike's hair-roughened chest. He seemed to take great pleasure in torturing her hungry, aching flesh, teasing her until she was squirming with need. His hands were everywhere at once, finding the pleasure points that nearly drove Emma mad. Suddenly he moved, seeking a different pleasure.
“Mike!” she gasped, trying to drag him back up when she realized what his intentions were. His roaming mouth deserted her swollen breasts, searing a trail along her rib cage to her stomach and heading for the spot his fingers were tenderly exploring. She wasn't certain she would be able to stand that particular torture, even while half of her yearned for it.
“Mike...” She squirmed beneath him, but not because she wanted to escape what he was doing to her, but because his skilled touch sent her to even higher levels of ecstasy. She moaned in sweet agony when his mouth replaced his probing finger.
“Mike!"
The exquisite feeling of his warm, raspy tongue sliding inside her was more than Emma could bear. She shuddered as a sweeping sensation exploded through her body, signaling the end was fast approaching. She tensed. “Mike please, I need you now."
Whether it was the desperation in her tone or the fact he sensed her close release, Mike crawled up her body until he was poised at the brink of her womanhood. Emma's hands fell to his taut buttocks, urging him inside. Urging him home. Her body was quivering beneath him, her breathing ragged.
Their eyes met, glazed with desire.
“What are you waiting for?” she gasped with bewilderment, feeling control slipping away as an explosion of liquid fire consumed her. She strained toward Mike's powerful erection, feeling the pulsing tip of him at the gates. Teasing and waiting, but for what? Why didn't he take her?
As the first wave of a powerful climax overwhelmed Emma he thrust forward, intensifying the effect as his hard flesh brushed against the pleasure spot his tongue had manipulated. Her scream was lost on his lips, her hands clenching into his buttocks the same time her legs wound around his hips. Another wave and another hit Emma, leaving her body jerking in uncontrollable pleasure beneath him.
“That's what I was waiting for,” he said in a low growl, wrenching his mouth from hers. He didn't move. Just lay there between her thighs until the spasms gradually changed into tiny tremors. “I wanted to feel your pleasure when it hit,” he admitted in a ragged voice, kissing Emma in between words. “Even now your muscles are caressing me, drawing me toward my own release."
She was too exhausted to speak, barely managing to lean forward enough to give his chin a gentle bite. She clenched her muscles tighter around his throbbing penis, whimpering when his hips finally began to move. Each thrust was drawn out in a long, slow sweep of his hard flesh joining hers, sinking deeply inside her body, caressing her womb. And it was Mike's undoing when she leaned forward, twirling her tongue around his nipple and tugging at the small, taut nub with a careful love bite.
His low grunt pleased Emma immensely and she attacked his other nipple. He picked up speed, his movements almost wild as his need escalated out of control. Her hips left the bed each time to meet his downward thrust, her hands learning his hard, muscular body in an excited search as they moved in exquisite harmony with one another
The turbulence of his passion swirled all around Emma, the recently banked fire surging through her blood once again. More than matching her need to his. Mike began to thrust without control, wild in a way that revealed his hunger, his power. She tightened her muscles around his pounding flesh knowing it would give him pleasure. He grunted low, clutching Emma to him. The force of his powerful release was pure and explosive, ending with a final deep plunge as he collapsed against her, shuddering.
* * * *
“I love you."
A thrill shot through Emma at Mike's unexpected confession, yet something in his tone warned her to be cautious. He hadn't exactly said it as though he was happy about it. He rolled, pulling her with him so that she ended up curled against his side. He kept his arm around her and she placed hers over his damp chest. Tilting her face slightly, she peered at him expectantly, and with worry.
“But?” she finally asked, not certain she wanted to know his answer. She doubted telling him she loved him too would have any affect on him now.
His heavy sigh sounded anything but encouraging. “It hasn't exactly come at a good time."
“Love usually happens when you least expect it,” Emma agreed, feeling a dull pain creeping inside her heart. Mike's tone indicated he didn't know which way to turn so she decided to set him at ease. “Look, Mike, I know how you feel. I don't want you to feel that just because we made love you owe me any commitments or anything. I'm a big girl and I don't break that easy. It's okay if all you want is a sexual relationship..."
What in the world was she saying? Her blabbering was a clear indication she was nervous and not handling the situation very well. She took in Mike's shocked expression, her first warning that she'd gone too far. His brows were arched with obvious disbelief and he was looking at her as if she'd suddenly sprouted horns. Lowering her eyes couldn't undo the damage but it gave her time to pull herself together.
“Is that what you think I want?” His voice held a sharp edge to it, gaining her attention again. “You're crazy if you think I'd treat you with such little respect, Emma. It's because I love you that I've tried not to let things move this far. Not because I'm some horny divorcee who can't keep it in his pants. I don't want to hurt you."
“I never insinuated..."
“Didn't you? You're the first woman I've ever made love to in this bed. I'm not going to insult your intelligence by saying I haven't had my fair share of sexual encounters, but that's all they were. The couple of serious affairs I had turned sour fast when I brought them home to meet Melissa and they realized we came as a package."
“Mike, I didn't mean it that..."
He didn't let her finish. “Could you live with that arrangement? Come to think of it maybe it's not such a bad idea. A sexual relationship with no strings attached; what more could a man ask for?” He sounded bitter.
How could things have gotten so mixed up so fast? Emma could understand his anger but if he'd only let her finish. “Let me explain..."
He rolled before she could complete her statement and she suddenly found herself pinned beneath him. She gasped, but it wasn't fear that held her motionless. She'd seen him angry before but not like this. Yet in spite of that he was growing hard against her.
“I love you,” she breathed softly, almost desperately, needing him to accept the truth. “I think I fell in love with you the moment I gazed into those steely blue eyes of yours. Do you think it's been easy finding myself more attracted to you every time we bumped into each other? Trying not to let my heart get involved because I could see how determined you were not to like me?"
Tears slowly found their way down the side of her face, wetting the pillow beneath her. “Mike,” she continued in a choked voice. “I'm not asking you to make a choice between me and Melissa. I would never do that.” He had to believe her.
He stiffened, his eyes intense upon her face as though searching for the truth. She forced herself to make eye contact with him, willing him to understand, silently pleading with him to give them a chance. She knew his inner turmoil, knew he was torn with decisions that would change all their lives. She could see the mixed emotions churning in his eyes, her heart going out to him.
“No!” he finally swore, pounding the mattress next to Emma's head. “I made a promise to myself that Melissa has to come first. I'm not going to change my mind about getting involved with you Emma."
“We're as involved as two people can get..."
“This was a mistake..."
“Mike, no...” To her mortification a sob escaped her. She bit down on her lip to keep from pleading with him, until the taste of blood filled her mouth and the lump in her throat threatened to choke her. Couldn't he see how much she loved him?
“I'm sorry, Emma.” He held her teary gaze for a long moment and she could see he'd made up his mind. He was going to throw them away, deny the love they felt for each other and continue on with his life as if they'd never made love. As if they meant nothing to each other.
“Don't do this.” she whispered passionately, trying not to sound desperate. “Don't throw us away. We can be friends...” Tears swelled in her eyes.
A snort escaped him. “Friends? Never lady, not with you.” The back of his hand brushed lovingly over her wet cheek; his eyes held a look of deep regret in them. “God ... I never meant to hurt you,” he said hoarsely before rolling away. He got to his feet and headed toward the bathroom without looking back. The sharp click of the closing door sounded over loud and final to her ears.
A torrent of emotion exploded from Emma at that moment and she buried her face into the pillow to disguise her sobs, knowing what true heartbreak was.
Chapter 22
For the hundredth time in four weeks Mike berated himself for being the world's biggest fool. He'd given up the best thing to happen to him since Melissa's birth. He'd treated Emma callously, using her and discarding her as if she didn't matter. The truth was she mattered too damn much. Moreover, he couldn't begin to figure out how to undo the damage.
It didn't help that he hadn't seen her since that morning. The morning he'd broken her heart and driven her home, leaving her with a half-hearted promise to call her when he worked things out in his head. It hadn't made him feel any better when he'd glanced into her beautiful eyes before leaving her to see her quiet acceptance that she knew he wouldn't call. God, walking away from her was the worst mistake of his life. He was miserable. Dreaming about her every night, waking in the middle of the night wanting her so badly he thought it was going to send him to the nut house. Likewise, his daydreams weren't any better. He'd completely lost his focus at work.
On top of everything else, Melissa was barely talking to him and only then when she needed to, confused over the complexity of adult relationships and reasoning. He couldn't blame her. Hell, his explanation for excluding Emma from their lives didn't make sense to him. And Melissa wasn't stupid. Once again she'd been hurt, only this time by him.
Then there was Amanda. Every time he ran into her she was slightly aloof, as if not sure what to say or how to act around him, though that could be his own guilt making him think that way. He doubted Emma had bad mouthed him; she had too much class for that. Yet she had to have told her sister something. He expelled a long breath, reaching for the bottle at his feet. It was funny how he and Emma weren't running into each other at every turn anymore. He took a swig of his warm beer, staring out into the darkness beyond his porch. Thanksgiving had come and gone and Christmas was fast approaching. He wondered how many lumps of coal would be in his stocking this year.
“Dad?"
He turned at the sound of Melissa's voice. He'd left the lights off but he could see enough to make out the flickering gleam in her eyes. “Yes?"
“I was just wondering, you never gave me an answer about the Christmas party."
Mike hadn't answered her on purpose. He wasn't in a very festive mood and the last thing he felt like doing was attend the annual Christmas party at the high school. The basket ball court was the only place in town big enough to accommodate a few hundred people inside.
“Dad?"
Her hesitant low tone pulled him back to the present. It wouldn't be fair keeping Melissa home when they went every year. Before long she'd be going places without him. Until then Mike wanted to do as many father/daughter things with her as possible. “We go every year, don't we, kiddo?"
“Oh, thank you!” She pushed the screen door open enough to slip through. “I wasn't sure if you'd want to go. I know you're still missing Emma."
What? Mike didn't get a chance to question her on how she got to be so smart. The next thing he knew she was throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a tight squeeze. The kind of hug she use to give him, until she'd informed him one night before bed that she was too old for that sort of thing anymore. When she released him, he pulled back, trying to gauge her unusual response, but it was too dark to see her expression clearly. Was she just a little bit too over zealous? He frowned with suspicion, then realized what he was doing and shook his head. He had to stop analyzing everything. Why wouldn't she be happy about attending the biggest holiday event of the year?
“See you in the morning.” She was gone before he could get over his surprise of her unexpected hug.
He listened to her stomping up the stairs as he took another swig of his beer. He made a face when he remembered too late that it was warm and flat. The slam of a door indicated Melissa had reached her room.
Just as he leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the rail in front of him, a falling star caught his attention. He watched it streak across the sky for several seconds before having the presence of mind to make a wish on it before it disappeared. It was foolish but at that moment Mike wished the woman he loved was sitting there next to him. He pressed his lips together, accepting the truth. There was no reason in the world why she shouldn't be. He knew he was going to do whatever it took to make it right between him and Emma.
Even if it meant groveling was involved.
* * * *
“That's twice you've disappeared and I thought you skipped out and went home,” Amanda complained, handing Emma a glass of red holiday punch.
“No, that's something you do, sister dear. And I told you, I haven't been feeling well,” Emma explained, searching the crowd over the rim of her glass as she took a sip. “I don't know why you insisted I come anyway. I haven't before."
“It's the holiday season for goodness sake, Mom. I thought you needed cheering up. I know Mike hurt you..."
“Please, leave Mike out of this.” She turned before Amanda saw the moisture filling her eyes. Lord, it even hurt to say his name. What had she been thinking, coming to a Christmas party where he might very well show up? Moreover, how would he act if he saw her? Could she take another rejection? She already knew the answer to that; it would crush her.
“Here come Troy and Pete,” Amanda said, grabbing Emma by the arm to get her attention again. “And be nice to him."
“I'm always nice to Troy,” she said without hesitation.
“I'm talking about Pete,” Amanda corrected.
Emma shot her sister a frown, wondering why she'd say such a thing. Why was Pete with Troy anyway and why was there a silly grin on his face? As dawning gradually replaced her curiosity, she ground out beneath her breath, “What have you done?"
Amanda's tone said she didn't know what she was talking about. “Nothing, don't be so suspicious. He's just here enjoying the party like everyone else in town."
Without a date? Emma didn't believe her but she had no choice but to stand there and wait for the two men to reach them. She took another sip of her drink, pretending interest in the holiday decorations and the huge Christmas tree in the center of the room. It was all very beautiful but her heart just wasn't in it. She hadn't even decorated at home.
“Maybe eating something will help.” Amanda smiled at Troy as he approached, love for him shining brightly in her eyes. “Did the doctor give you anything?"
“Yes, he...” Pausing in mid air, she looked past Troy and Pete, her gaze landing on the one man she was hoping not to run into. He'd just walked through the doorway with Melissa. Looking tall and handsome, as always, with an expression on his face that said he didn't want to be there anymore than she did.
As he removed his coat, she tried to pull her gaze away before he glanced up and noticed her watching. Yet she couldn't tear her eyes away from the man she loved. He finally glanced across the distance separating them and froze, his eyes narrowing sharply. Emma caught her breath at the raw look of hunger etched on his features.
“You two ladies look fantastic!"
She barely registered Troy's compliment. She was forced to break eye contact with Mike when Pete unknowingly stepped in front of her.
“You two boys don't look half bad yourselves."
“Boys? Ouch!” Troy grabbed Amanda to him, giving her a hearty kiss. “You're standing beneath the mistletoe,” he explained as if needing a reason to kiss her.
Emma automatically looked up, unable to help the smile covering her face. The ceiling was covered with balloons of red and green. It would be nearly impossible to miss standing beneath the mistletoe when someone had gone to a lot of time and trouble of tying sprigs of it to the trailing ends of each balloon.
All at once she found herself in Pete's arms. “What...” But that's as far as she got. Taken completely unaware, she found herself being kissed and there was nothing she could do about it. It was brief and not anywhere close to being the toe curling kisses she experienced in Mike's arms.
“The mistletoe,” Pete explained the second his mouth left hers.
“Any excuse to kiss a pretty woman,” Troy joked, putting his arm around Amanda's waist and keeping her close to his side. “Don't even think about kissing my woman."
“It's a tradition,” Pete added in his defense.
Emma couldn't resist returning his boyish smile. He was harmless. When he stepped away, her gaze fell on Mike, who'd apparently witnessed the whole exchange and looked anything but pleased. In fact, he looked ready to kill someone. Holding back an elated smile, she returned Melissa's enthusiastic wave. Almost immediately a group of her friends appeared and dragged her off, leaving Mike standing there all alone. He acknowledged Emma with the barest nod of his head.
“Come on, they're playing our song. We'll be right back.” Amanda dragged Troy off to the dance floor, and suddenly Emma found herself alone with Pete.
After a few moments of awkward silence, he said, “It's a shame to waste a good song. Would you like to dance?"
Before Emma had a chance to respond, a deep voice said from behind her, “I'd love to ... but not with you."
She gasped, spinning around to find Mike had somehow moved up behind her. His comment was directed to Pete, but it was her eyes he met, her hands he took into his. It didn't matter that they hadn't so much as exchanged a single word with each other, or that he took it for granted she'd want to dance with him. As she was being guided onto the dance floor, she tossed Pete an apologetic look, surprised to see a pleased smile on his face. She didn't have time to decipher what his expression meant because all at once Mike turned, bringing her up against him.
Her heart slammed against her ribs at his closeness, her breath catching at his intoxicating scent. She didn't need to be coaxed to lay her head upon his shoulder. In a matter of seconds Emma became drunk with him, her body awakening to needs only he could satisfy. Neither spoke, content to sway against each other to the slow beat of the music for the time being. Mike wanted her; it was as clear as his pounding heartbeat against her.
After a few moments she couldn't stand the silence any longer. Trying to inject normalcy in her voice, she asked, “How have you been, detective?” It felt wonderful being in his arms again and she snuggled closer against him, forgetting for a moment where they were. Forgetting he didn't want her in his life.
He didn't seem to mind; in fact, his hands began to move slowly, sensuously over Emma's back, though remaining in the safe zones. He at least had the presence of mind to remember they were in a crowded room. However, she knew Mike, and his body was like a tightly coiled spring against hers.
“Detective?” Her tone reminded Mike he hadn't answered her.
There was a slight pause before he responded in a tight voice, “Fine, and you?"
“I'm ... okay.” Was his nose nuzzling her hair? She smiled against his shirt, until his warm breath tickled the lobe of her ear and Emma realized he'd caressed it ever so gently with his lips. What did he think he was doing? She shivered, hoping no one noticed.
“Good."
“How's Melissa?” They sounded like strangers trying to make polite conversation. Neither was saying what they really wanted. Emma wanted to tell Mike how much she loved him. How miserable she'd been the last few weeks without him.
“She's...” He pulled back, gazing into her eyes until everything, everyone around them became a silent blur. They stopped dancing, yet didn't separate. “I've had enough of this small talk.” He took her by the hand and turned, pulling her behind him.
Where they were going Emma didn't know or care. She didn't question Mike, letting him pull her along as they headed toward a door that exited the party. It wasn't the outside door but one that led them to a semi-dark, empty hallway that was lined with rows of lockers on both sides. When the door closed behind them, he halted. He pulled her into his arms for a long kiss, his actions a little rough, exposing his hunger. His mouth moved over hers, coaxing hers open so he could slip his tongue inside, taste her willingness. Arching against him, Emma wound her arms around his neck and clung to him like a drowning woman and he was the only one who could save her.
It didn't take long for the passion to intensify between them. Their bodies began to strain with the need to get closer. The heat became unbearable. Whether he intended it or not, Mike moved until Emma was sandwiched between him and the wall. She almost cried out when he broke the kiss off.
“God, I've missed you!” were the first words to pass through his lips. “More than I thought possible."
“I missed you too,” she breathed huskily, trembling against him. “So very much."
“It didn't look that way when Pete was kissing you; he's damn lucky I didn't deck him."
“You wanted to kill him,” Emma corrected with confidence, smiling as she recalled his fierce expression. “It was the mistletoe."
“Mistletoe, hell! He made damn sure I was looking your way when he grabbed you and planted one on you."
“You think you're the only man allowed to kiss me?” She leaned back far enough to meet his eyes. The hallway they were in was gloomy, but the small window in the door leading to where the party was emitted enough light that she was able to see him clearly.
He seemed to hesitate, unsure of himself. “After how I treated you that morning, do I have that right?"
He had that right and more as far as Emma was concerned. The time had come; she had to know where they stood. “What are you doing, Mike?” Lonely weeks had passed since they'd last seen each other. There'd been no phone calls, nothing. “Is this a case of just running into each other at a social event?"
The look of guilt on his face was Emma's answer but he quickly smoothed it over by saying, “If it hadn't happened tonight I promise you it would have tomorrow. I'd made up my mind to call you."
Her heart skipped a beat at his admission but she carefully schooled her expression so as not to give it away. “Why?"
“I love you,” he said without hesitation, as if those three little words explained everything.
Emma wasn't about to assume anything. “You've said that before,” she reminded him, ignoring the thrill his words produced. “And the last time you brought me home and just walked away."
“I'm not going to walk away this time, honey.” Mike's tone was rough, filled with strong conviction. “I can't."
Emma gasped as a seed of suspicion began to take root in her mind. “What do you mean, can't?” Had he been talking to Amanda? “What about your plans?"
“That was before..."
Now Emma was certain Amanda had told him something. “Before what, Mike? How come all of a sudden you've changed your mind about us?” There was no way she was going to accept him if he was only there because he had a strong sense of doing the right thing.
He appeared surprised over her reaction, a mild frown furrowing his brows. “I was a fool before, and if you want the truth, running scared. I've come to my senses..."
“Before or after you talked to Amanda?” she demanded to know, moving away from him. “Look, Mike, this isn't the Middle Ages. I love you but I don't need you to take care of me. I raised Amanda..."
“What?” He looked at Emma as if she were speaking a foreign language.
The look that came over his face should have warned her he didn't know what she was talking about, but she continued without taking a breath. “Just because I'm going to have a baby doesn't mean you have to do the noble thing. I don't want you under those conditions."
“I can't pretend to know how to make things right between us but...” They'd spoken at the same time and all at once her words registered with him. “What?” His bark sounded like a clap of thunder, clearly revealing the truth of what she said had shocked him to the core. “You're pregnant?” he asked softly, a slight tinge of wonder in his voice.
Emma stepped back nervously when she began to realize he was hearing the news for the first time. “Yes,” she answered, watching him carefully. At that moment it occurred to her that Mike had changed his mind about them on his own, but she was careful to keep her emotions in check. It was too soon to get her hopes up.
“How..."
She burst out laughing; she couldn't help it. “You want a lesson about the birds and the bees, detective? We were in quite a, ah, hot and heavy state that morning. Protection was the last thing on our minds."
Mike's answering grin was slow in coming, filling the depths of his eyes with amusement in spite of the gravity of their discussion. “I was going to say, how do you feel about it?"
“Oh.” Emma felt her cheeks grow warm. She was ecstatic over having his baby. She could see in his eyes that her answer mattered to him. How did he feel about becoming a father again, at his age?
As the silence grew between them, she knew she had to say something; they couldn't go on staring at each other. In the end she decided honesty was the only recourse. “I want this baby, Mike, as much as I want you. I couldn't be happier.” Her voice caught. She was almost afraid to ask, “How do you feel about it?"
An emotion flared in his eyes, a desperate sound escaping him before he could rein it in, revealing more than words. Losing control, he crushed Emma against him as though never to let her go. For a moment there was nothing but the soft muted sounds of the party swirling around them.
“I love you too, sweetheart,” he finally rasped. “And I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life.” He pulled back enough to meet her eyes. “Will you forgive me for hurting you, Emma? Will you put me out of my misery and marry me?"
Marry him? She hadn't expected that, yet as quick as the elation washed through her, reality hit her like a ton of bricks. “Because of the baby?” She couldn't bear it if that was the only reason he asked.
“Hell no!” Mike retorted heatedly, quickly putting her at ease again. “I'm happy over having a baby with you. But I want you for my wife for strictly selfish reasons."
“Are you sure, Mike? Melissa is almost grown up. You'd be starting over again, at an age when...” She couldn't finish. Not while her mouth was being devoured by his. However, the sweetly passionate kiss was ending all too soon.
“Are you saying I'm not up to it?” he asked with mock ferocity, the devious gleam in his eyes causing a flutter in Emma's belly. “Because if you are, there's ways of proving my point."
Emma's heart sang for joy. “Why detective, that sounds like a threat,” she returned, nipping his chin playfully. She purred like a cat when his hand glided from her neck down the curve of her breast, splaying over her flat belly. His tender touch brought tears to her eyes.
“Well? What's it going to be, honey? Are you going to make an honest man out of me?” All of a sudden his expression turned to worry. “If you need time to think about it..."
Mike's words broke through the silken cocoon of euphoria that gripped Emma. As she gazed into his eyes, her heart swelled with love for him. She didn't want him believing for one moment that she needed to think about anything.
“Yes!” she nearly shouted, kissing his face wherever she could reach him until her mouth finally settled upon his for a brief kiss. “As long as it's okay with Melissa,” she continued, after pulling away.
“Oh, I don't think we have anything to fear,” he responded, with the crooked grin she loved so much. When his gaze moved past her to the door, Emma swung around, her eyes widening with surprise to see Melissa watching them through the small window in the door. She had a smile on her face that stretched from ear to ear. And standing right behind her was an ecstatic Amanda.
Emma turned back to Mike, surprised to see the faint glistening of emotion in his eyes. Her heart over flowing with love, she raised her hand, laying it upon his cheek as her own eyes filled with stinging moisture. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could get a word out, he lowered his head and kissed her, tenderly, passionately, holding nothing back.
It didn't matter anyway. No other words were necessary. Their fate was sealed now. She wound her arms around Mike's neck, holding on tightly as they began a journey into forever after.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Debbie Wallace was born in Maine but lives in Florida with her husband, where she's spent most of her life. She's had a multitude of professions in her adult life, from co-owning a janitorial company to owning her own antique business, but her heart, and her passion, has always been in writing.
For as long as Debbie can remember she's wanted to be a writer of romance and has been doing so as a hobby since the age of thirteen. It wasn't until her family encouraged her that she decided to pursue her dreams of becoming a published author.
Cupid's Arrow is her first release with Whiskey Creek Press. You can visit her website at:
www.angelfire.com/me5/dawallace/
For your reading pleasure, we invite you to visit our web bookstore
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WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
www.whiskeycreekpress.com