One
CJ White hated Wyatt Maddock. She hated the way he walked, always leading with his dick, and hated the way he talked, like he was determined to coax a giggle from every woman he approached.
She hated the way he grinned, all white teeth and wolfish charm. She hated the way he propped his feet up on her desk at work, and she hated the way he was leaning over Special Agent Dempsey right now, whispering in her ear as he held her close enough to inhale her, breasts first.
Yep, she hated him and every single minute of the last lousy three months that she'd been stuck working this insider trading case with him for the Bureau. It hadn't been as bad before, when they'd been working a price-fixing investigation, because she'd had Agent Knight to buffer her from Wyatt's stupidity. On this case it had been just the two of them until tonight.
Yet despite that stupidity, somehow Wyatt had managed to snag the exciting side
to this investigation. Their boss Nordstrom had claimed Wyatt fit the corporate
image, and she had to admit he was right. The man dressed like a CEO instead of
an FBI agent, and could charm the bite off a snake. So
Wyatt got to head off to the
Which didn't amuse her at all.
"Hey." Fingers snapped in her face. "Get that table cleared, we're running behind."
CJ looked at the man frowning in front of her and promised herself she would be a good FBI agent and not fling him over her shoulder like she really wanted to. His name was Fisher Carter, and he was just one more reason to hate Wyatt. Somehow it just had to be Wyatt's fault that she was stuck being a catering assistant to Fisher at Sharecron's annual Christmas party/offensive display of wealth and ego. Sharecron was the target of their current investigation, and the company was knee-deep in insider trading.
"Sorry, Fisher, I'll get right on it." CJ started slapping dishes onto the metal cart she had pushed over to the table.
The plan was that Wyatt was supposed to use his image as corporate playboy to feign drunkenness and whisk his date off down the hall to his office for a little Christmas cheer in private. Really, he was going to search the computer database for evidence. CJ was supposed to be the lookout, making sure no one followed him, since he needed a good agent covering his back.
At least, that had been the official reason given to her by Nordstrom. Somehow she thought it wasn't coincidence that Brandy Dempsey, a blond and buff agent just helping on the case for tonight as Wyatt's date, looked a hell of a lot better in a dress and heels than she would. CJ didn't even own a pair of heels and she suspected her hair was stuck into the permanent shape of a ponytail.
Not that she cared that she was here wearing a waitress white shirt and Wyatt was in an expensive tux, looking like he'd been born in it. She had too many concerns in life to worry about being anything but comfortable in her clothes. Let Brandy deal with Wyatt Maddock and his roving hands, which were now sitting right above the curve of Brandy's ass. Like that was necessary.
She snorted as she finished loading her tray, hearing Wyatt's deep laugh as he bent over Brandy's neck. She should be absolutely grateful that she'd been spared the hell that Brandy was enduring in the name of the Justice Department.
Hell. Hah.
Because that was the real reason CJ hated Wyatt.
She hated him because every time she looked at him, she wanted him. In her bed, over her, under her, sliding into her hard and deep, pleasing her the way he had pleased so many other women, reminding her that somewhere locked inside her frozen body, she was still a woman.
Like that was going to happen.
He didn't think of her that way, and even if he did, she'd never let him. He was all wrong for her, the exact opposite of what she needed in her life right now, when she needed to concentrate on her son.
So if Wyatt ever did decide he was up for a challenge and put the moves on her, he'd be wearing his balls like ear-muffs.
Let's see how Pretty Boy liked that with his tux.
* * *
Wyatt was having trouble breathing. Brandy's chest was too large to allow for adequate air circulation as he pretended to stumble and plant a kiss on her cleavage.
Brandy gave a laugh and shoved at him. "Oh, stop it, Wyatt."
He shot her a grin as he straightened up and sucked in some air. Brandy was good at this bimbo bit. Maybe he should ask her out for real.
In a low voice, he said, "Is White watching? We should probably head out now. If anyone gives a shit, I think we've proved I'm drunk and horny."
Not that he thought anyone would notice. This party was unlike anything he'd
ever seen actually sponsored and paid for by a corporation. It was like a prom
for adults, but the alcohol was legal, and there was slightly less hairspray.
Half the room was dancing to the
It almost made him regret he'd never joined the private sector.
Truthfully, he found the whole thing borderline disgusting. He liked to have as much fun as the next guy, but this was over the top for a business function.
"Yeah, White's watching, looking a little put out, in fact," Brandy murmured.
Wyatt glanced over at CJ and winced. He should have felt that cool breeze of disdain blowing over him, even muffled by Brandy's breasts. White was ripping linen off a table, her ponytail bouncing, her mouth set into a scowl. He knew that scowl well, was subjected to it on a daily basis.
CJ'd had it out for him since the minute they were assigned to a case together nine months ago and her attitude had never wavered.
Which had to be the only reason he felt this bizarre attraction to her. It was annoyance that she was immune to him. That she was the first woman that he could ever remember who blatantly didn't like him, and made no pretense of the fact that she thought he was an unpaid gigolo. It was obviously all just a blow to the ego, which fueled his interest. There couldn't be anything else to it.
The desire for CJ certainly didn't spring from her looks. He'd seen five-year-olds with a better sense of style. Her clothes were all about two sizes too big, and she walked around in shoes that could be worn in military combat. As for breasts, it was anybody's guess if she actually had them.
"CJ always looks put out," he told Brandy, flashing her a grin. "She's uptight. Unlike me."
Brandy caught his change of tone. She raised an eyebrow and he once again appreciated the picture she made in a red-hot evening dress, blond hair piled up high, legs long and toned, painted toenails. The kind of woman he enjoyed.
He went for it, giving her hand a caress. "So, how about we do this date for real tomorrow night?"
Brandy gave a laugh. "I don't think CJ would appreciate me trespassing on her property."
That stunned him into stopping all pretense of dancing. He gaped at Brandy. "I'm not White's property. I'm White's nothing." Less than nothing. He was the sludge in the sink pipes, according to White.
"Well, you could be if you wanted to." Brandy tugged his hand, forcing him to start swaying back and forth again. "Trust me, I know when a woman is jealous, and if looks could kill, you'd be digging me a hole right now."
Jealous? CJ was jealous of Brandy? The idea took hold for a split second, maybe because it appealed to him, then he dismissed it. Hell, the idea was ridiculous. White was probably just pissed that she got stuck slinging plates of half-eaten cheesecake while he was playing the party-goer.
He'd spent nine months trying to figure CJ White out. He certainly wasn't going to get any closer to the truth about her tonight.
"Let's head for the hall, Brandy."
"Got it."
Wyatt turned and caught CJ's eye. He gave a slight nod and waited until she nodded back.
Then he made a big show of stumbling, grabbing Brandy perilously close to her breast and saying loudly, "Let me show you my office, baby. I've got a really big … desk."
Time to go to work and forget all about CJ White and his desire to peel off those baggy-ass clothes and discover what she was hiding under there. And then show her his big desk.
* * *
Half an hour later, he was done, having poked around in some computer files in his office, Brandy standing just inside the door, ready to cover for him if anyone walked in. It had gone smoothly, but he hadn't found anything of value. Nordstrom was going to be pissed, and that vein in his head would throb in a way that always freaked Wyatt out.
Couldn't be helped. There was nothing he could detect in the computer files to help their case when he did a quick visual search, though he had managed to bug his phone in hopes of taping a revealing phone conversation. A minor success, nothing more.
The minute they stepped into the hall, he sensed a problem. Several women were huddled together, laughing in a drunken giggle, hanging onto the wall like they were on the people mover at O'Hare and needed the wall for balance.
He pulled Brandy to his side, hoping they wouldn't attract any attention, but the women glanced up. And the redhead with cleavage he could drive a truck through shouted, "Brandy? Brandy Dempsey? Ohmigod!"
Brandy cursed under her breath and murmured, "Sorority sister." Then to the redhead, "Hi, Patti!"
"What are you doing here?" Patti wobbled over, her voice carrying the length of a football field, making Wyatt wince and look around nervously.
The alcohol had clearly dulled her sense of hearing as she continued to blurt out with volume that rivaled a rock concert, "Aren't you an FBI agent? I heard that, and I thought—no shit! Brandy's a fucking fed—unbelievable!"
Hell. Wyatt thought fast, well aware of how dangerous it could be to the case for anyone to know who he or Brandy was. A little desperate, he reached out and touched Patti's arm.
He said, "Brandy, aren't you going to introduce me to your gorgeous friend?"
Patti swiveled her head, and her delight turned to calculating interest. "Oh, well, hello."
"I'm Wyatt." He lifted her hand and kissed it softly. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine." Patti flipped her hair over her shoulder with her free hand. As drunk as she was, the movement challenged her balance. She pitched forward and Wyatt caught her by the arms.
"Oh!" In a flash, she was pressed up against him, her thigh pursuing his with predatory accuracy. "Thanks."
Damn. How he got himself into predicaments like this was anybody's guess. Wyatt smiled at Patti, the sorority lush, and nudged Brandy with his foot.
She got the hint. "You know, Patti, God, it's good to see you, but I really have to go to the restroom. Can I leave you with Wyatt for a minute?"
"Absolutely," Patti purred, her voice dropping an entire octave.
It was for the good of the case, he reminded himself, trying not to inhale Patti's forty-proof breath, worried he might get drunk from secondhand fumes. With Brandy gone, and Patti distracted, they wouldn't have to be concerned about her screeching out words like "FBI" and "fed" and blowing their cover. Being mauled by a drunk tart was a small price to pay, and hey, he was a team player. If she wasn't plastered he might actually enjoy it.
What he didn't count on was the hecklers.
"Whoo-hoo, Patti—you go, girl."
"Now you've got him, what are you going to do with him?"
"Next drink is on me if you kiss him."
The women had gone wild, whistling, hooting, and egging Patti on. His back was against the wall, literally, and he was trying to formulate a plan to get out with his dignity and body parts intact, when she grabbed him by the cheeks and smothered him with her mouth in a wet, grinding kiss.
He'd never again have to doubt the meaning of the phrase "suck face."
* * *
CJ was hovering in the hallway by the elevators, trying to be discreet. Maddock had been gone a long time and she was starting to get concerned. That concern magnified when she saw Brandy emerge from the office pool where the receptionists and other entry-level employees worked.
Brandy didn't see her, but went back into the reception area where the party was still raging.
CJ hesitated a minute, then started through the maze of cubicles toward the hallway that led to the larger offices in the back of the building. Brandy wasn't supposed to leave Wyatt, and that she did was alarming. CJ felt under her loose black pants for the handgun. Reassured, she moved steadily, cautiously.
Heavy breathing came to her attention and she automatically went for her gun again before she realized a couple of partygoers were sweating in a swivel chair together. They glanced at her but didn't break stride, major organs thankfully covered by the woman's black dress.
"Sorry." CJ walked faster. Geez, this company was full of perverts. She'd seen more sexual acts tonight than in six months of watching HBO.
She rounded the corner, and caught sight of another. Only this pervert she knew. And the woman wrapped in his arms wasn't Brandy, but a flaming redhead in an electrifying dress, who was ramming her tongue down Wyatt's throat.
CJ ground to a halt and stared in horror. It was like road-kill—you didn't want to look, but you had to. She would have preferred checking out squirrel guts. Fury swept over her, intense personal disgust that she could ever find this man attractive, followed by anger that after all these months of working this case, he could jeopardize it by acting like a vagina-seeking missile.
Assessing the situation, which included planting herself in the center of the hall so no one could leave, she observed the redhead's skirt inching its way up as she really worked Wyatt over. Poor guy. His jacket was getting wrinkled from all those desperate fingers gripping it.
She imagined the dry cleaner saw a lot of Wyatt. When the woman's fingers rose into his light brown hair, artfully tousled, CJ lost her patience.
"Excuse me." Time to extract him before he caused actual damage to this case. And just for being a hormone-driven hound dog, CJ was going to make sure Agent Maddock went to bed alone tonight as punishment.
The redhead didn't break stride as her tongue swam laps across Wyatt's mouth. CJ grimaced. If she could see the woman's tongue from where she was standing, something was really wrong with her technique. Then she realized that Wyatt's arms were waving behind the woman's back and that his lips appeared to have clamped shut, denying access.
"Mr. Maddock?" CJ said, loud and clear. "I hate to interrupt…"
That was a big-ass lie.
"But you just got a phone call. I guess your cell phone is off? Anyway…" She tried to sound nonchalant, instead of malicious and furious like she felt. "Your boyfriend is just desperate to talk to you, so I think you should call him back."
The red-whore—oops, she meant redhead—stumbled backward, nearly falling onto the floor on her behind. "Boyfriend? What?"
"Oh, damn, that's a shame." One of the women lingering with a martini glass on the opposite side of the hall shook her head.
The other two nodded in agreement.
Redhead looked stunned, her hand coming up to wipe at her lips.
Wyatt stood stock-still, every ounce of blood in his face draining away, leaving him with tight lips, narrowed eyes, and taut muscles that clenched in fury. She'd never seen quite that expression on his face before.
It was a good look.
Getting him that mad almost might have been worth the hellish night except that she still wasn't convinced he hadn't compromised the case. Besides, she wouldn't be so immature as to actually enjoy riling him. Much.
She expected him to refute her boyfriend claim, so he could pick up his tonsil tango with the redhead where they'd left off. But he just straightened his jacket and said, "Thank you."
He strode off, without even a good-bye to the woman in red, leaving CJ to trail behind him in his wake, with a distracting view of his butt in those tuxedo pants.
It was wrong to feel the way she did. It was repulsive, spineless, and unnatural to lust after someone she didn't even like. Yet she couldn't drag her eyes off him, slowly raking from head to toe, taking in the rigid pull of his broad shoulders beneath the tux jacket, the confident stride of firm, long legs, and his shiny black shoes.
He was tall, muscular, in shape but not brawny or stocky in any way. His hair was a little on the long side of respectable for the Bureau, but she had never seen him in anything but well made, perfectly fitting suits.
He was testosterone in a tux and she was boring in baggy.
Which only served to infuriate her more.
When they reached the elevators and Wyatt turned to speak, she held up her hand. "Save it for the car. I want to rip your head off in private."
Along with a couple of other parts.
Two
When they reached the lobby, Wyatt strode for the parking garage, feeling really damn insulted.
Gay. CJ had said he was gay, of all things. Jesus.
It shouldn't matter, didn't matter, but it did, and no matter how many times he told himself she'd said it on purpose to piss him off, it still filled him with the need to show her exactly how straight he was.
Fuck privacy. Her little performance back at the office hadn't been private. And he needed to tell her how he felt about it before he popped a blood vessel. She had said she wanted to rip his head off. Well, the feeling was definitely mutual. Or maybe he wanted to do something more along the lines of screw her brains out.
Gay. Hah.
Wyatt stopped next to the front security desk and whirled around. CJ drew up short, just avoiding hitting him.
He said, "I cannot believe you said I was gay! That's the third joke like that you've made about me in the last couple of months. I don't make cracks about your personal life, so stay out of mine."
Her brown eyes widened. "Then you really are gay? Damn, Maddock, I'm sorry, I was just joking. If I had known…"
"No, I'm not gay!" Far from it. Not when he was lusting after CJ's mystery breasts and strategizing how he could get in her shapeless pants in five steps or less.
Then she shocked him by reaching out and nailing him on the arm. It wasn't a girl swat. It was a punch. His muscle was tight when she'd impacted, and now he reared back in pain, his arm stinging.
"Then you are such a complete jackass, Maddock! Why are you screwing around with drunken bimbos when it could jeopardize the case? Screw the bimbos on your night off."
"I'm not screwing any bimbos." Lately. His appetite for bimbos had decreased since he'd become preoccupied with pissy FBI agents in half-ass ponytails.
"Then explain what I just saw back there. And why did Dempsey leave?"
CJ was breathing hard, her cheeks tinged with pink, her brown eyes snapping at him. She blew a few strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail out of her eyes.
Wyatt wanted her warm breath on him. Everywhere. Which really did make him a jackass.
"Lower your voice, for God's sake." He glanced around the empty lobby. "For your information, I saved the case tonight. That woman was about to blow our cover."
That was greeted with a snort of disbelief. "That's not all she was going to blow."
Irrational desire flared with anger that she thought so little of him. "You know, what the hell is your problem? I'm a damn good agent, White. I do my job. When have I ever let you or the team down on anything? I don't need this shit from you."
"Yeah, well, I don't need to work with somebody who can't go five minutes without coming on to a woman." She paced a little before stopping in front of him again. "I'm going to ask Nordstrom for a transfer to a different case."
"What? Don't be an ass." She was going to risk Nordstrom's wrath and derail her career because she didn't like him?
The flat of her hand landed on his chest, between the lapels of his jacket. Her hand was warm, her eyes hot with fury. Wyatt inexplicably, and without warning, went hard.
"Don't talk to me like that."
And she shoved him backward.
Preoccupied with lust, he lost his balance and hit the reception desk with the back of his thighs. "Knock it off, White."
"I can't work with you anymore, Maddock. I'm serious. But maybe you should ask for the transfer, since you're the problem." Then her finger came up and waved in his face.
Wyatt watched that delicate finger, marveled that CJ was so feminine beneath her scowl and her attitude. What would she look like in bed? His bed. Would she rein in, hold on tight the way she did at work, or would she let go, screaming out her pleasure, or whimper in demure delight?
He snatched her finger out of the air and shoved it down by his side. "Why should I transfer? You're the one who has the problem, not me."
Her finger twitched in his grip trying to break free, and he held her tighter. They went through a thirty-second tug-of-war before she gave up. Her chest was rising and falling under the waitress getup and she held herself tense, like she wanted to pull back but was afraid to move.
"I can't…" And her normally tough, no-nonsense voice cracked just a little. Her eyes dropped, hiding.
That flash of vulnerability did him in. For the first time, he could see what Dempsey had seen. CJ wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her unresisting body up against his. He couldn't feel much through the clothes, just her basic outline, confirming his suspicions that she was carrying quite a package under those baggy suits. He'd give just about anything to see her dressed like Brandy had been tonight. And then, immediately following, dressed in nothing.
"Hey, CJ, did you ever notice something?" He couldn't resist this opportunity. She might pull her gun on him, but having her in his arms was just too good to pass up.
"What?" She sounded grumpy, like his niece did when she missed her nap.
It was cute and sexy, and he had clearly lost all sense of reality if a cranky woman who hated his guts turned him on.
"Did you ever notice that I want you, CJ? I don't understand you and you really kind of scare the crap out of me, but I want you just the same." Wyatt allowed his fingers to stroke her back as he bent over her just a little so he could press a kiss alongside her ear. She was so soft and warm, he just wanted to sigh.
CJ squirmed a little in his arms, but she didn't pull away. "You'd want anything with two legs and breasts."
He grinned. "Oh, do you have breasts? I couldn't even tell."
Her hand came out to shove him again, her mouth turned down in a fierce scowl. Wyatt reached out and cupped her breast through the layers of clothes, blocking her push. "Oh, hey, you do. Feel pretty good, too."
She froze, then tried to step back. He held her firmly in place with his other arm, and brushed across her nipple.
That only seemed to tick her off more. "Cut the crap, Wyatt. You're just doing this to prove a point, aren't you?"
He thought the only point he was making was that she was driving him fucking nuts and that he would just about pay money to see her naked. Apparently he hadn't been clear enough.
"The only point I'm trying to prove is that I want you." He dipped his nose into her hair, noting how CJ smelled very much like a woman. He had never detected her scent standing next to her at work, but holding her against him now, leaning over, running his mouth and nose over her smooth hair and skin, he could smell a soft, sinful, clean smell.
Outdoor sex. That's what popped into his head. "And you want me, too, CJ. Don't you?"
At some point, her hands had dug into his shirt, gripping him as she studied his shoulder. Lips just a hairbreadth from his, she whispered, "You're a disgusting human being."
It lacked any conviction, spoken in the softest voice he'd ever heard from her.
He still cupped her breast and he squeezed, dragging a low gasp from her, which she quickly masked by clearing her throat.
He said, "You're not any prize either, you know."
She gave a little laugh, and damn if she didn't lean forward a bit, causing his thumb to make contact with her nipple again, buried behind her bulky shirt and bra.
"You're such a Pretty Boy," she insulted him, even as her breath hitched and her thigh shifted between his.
Her neck was begging for a kiss. Wyatt gave it one, then sucked softly, drawing her warm flesh into his mouth. CJ's nails dug into his chest.
"Hard-ass," he murmured into her ear.
Her hands went around his back under his jacket, inviting interesting chest-on-chest contact. CJ had been hiding a C-cup, by his best educated guess.
"Bonehead…"
Wyatt cut her off, locking his mouth over hers and giving her a kiss he'd been tasting for months.
* * *
CJ clung to Wyatt like a barnacle and counted herself among the many women conquered by his tongue. Oy, he knew how to use it.
Here, as he ran it along her bottom lip. There, as he teased her mouth open with it. Everywhere, as he raced inside, the hot, possessive, dominating kiss ripping the air out of her lungs and sending heat pooling in her practical, waist-high panties.
It didn't surprise her that he was good at this.
What shocked the hell out of her was her own reaction. Her own wet, sliding, grinding, eager, and desperate reaction, her nails on his back, her hips bumping forward, her tongue reaching out to plunder his mouth in return. Her moans of encouragement, her leg locking around his, the telltale dampness between her thighs.
She was out of control. The orgasm-free years since her son had been born had caught up with her, and she was overwhelmed by the need to toss Wyatt down on the security desk and have her way with him.
That would teach him.
When he reached for the top button on her shirt, she found the courage to break off the kiss with minimal whimpering.
Wyatt let her pull back, but he still held her and he still worked her buttons. The first was free and he was onto number two. "Come home with me."
Hello. CJ swallowed hard as the second button gave way. He pressed a warm, moist kiss into the opening of her shirt.
"Are you crazy or just stupid? We have to work together."
"Mmm, your sweet-talking gets me hot. Call me stupid again." His tongue dipped down low, sliding a wet path between her breasts.
Instead of yelping in delight like she wanted to, she yanked his head back and said, "I'm serious."
His eyes locked with hers. His grip on her ass—hell, when had he done that?—loosened and she took the opportunity to scramble back away from him.
His breathing was ragged like her own, and his hair was sticking up, which made him look even sexier, which gave her yet another reason to hate him. He looked amazing and she probably looked like a startled rabbit.
In a waitress shirt.
"I have a deal for you, White. One where we both get what we want."
"I don't want to hear this." He couldn't possibly know what she wanted, that for just once, she wanted to shed her responsibilities and act as selfish and unrestrained as Wyatt did.
Not for one minute did she regret her son, Sam, despite his autism, but she was just so tired. Sam got the majority of her energy, then her job sucked up the rest, and she'd forgotten what it was like to be free from worry, to live in the moment. How could he understand that?
Wyatt's main worry was probably that his brand of hair gel had been discontinued.
"I'll take the transfer, CJ. You don't have to."
That got her attention. But she shook her head. "You can't. Nordstrom won't let you, you know that. I know he won't let me transfer either, since we're in the middle of a case. I was just blowing smoke before."
His hands clenched. "You know, you need to stop using words like 'blow.' Just erase them from your memory, or you're going to find yourself flat on your back on this desk."
Tempted to say "blow" in a clear, loud tone, she clamped her lips shut and stuck her hands behind her back.
Though he looked suspicious, he continued. "I don't mean a transfer to another case. I meant after the investigation, I'll transfer to another field office."
Her pursed lips fell open. "You'll leave
He shrugged. "Sure, why not? I don't have any family here, no wife, no girlfriend, no attachments. Maybe I'll go somewhere south."
It was too good to be true. He was volunteering to take himself and his sexy smile far away from her. "What's the catch?"
"No catch. You just have to agree to spend the night with me tomorrow. All night. And there will be no sleeping involved." He closed the gap between them, running his thumb along her bottom lip. "What do you think?"
She thought it was time to hurt him. "Are you bribing me? That you'll move only if I have sex with you?"
It was disgusting, outrageous, and gave whole new meaning to the term "indecent."
She was going to do it.
He may be a pig, but he was a gorgeous pig and the man could work a nipple.
Like he was doing to her, right that moment. Brushing, rubbing, rolling … good God.
Just imagine what he could do with the rest of her.
"Don't think of it as a bribe," he said in a low voice, his feet edging between hers so that her legs spread automatically. "Think of it as two people getting exactly what they want. We both want to have sex with each other, but we both know a relationship between us would never work."
CJ tilted her head as his lips moved across her neck. "That's true. Because I hate you."
Maybe hate was too strong a word. But she seriously disliked him. She really did.
"I know." The idea didn't seem to bother him as he navigated his way down to her cleavage.
It really was the perfect solution. She got to quench her thirst for Wyatt's body, then never had to set eyes on him again after this case ended. "I accept your deal."
She allowed her fingers to snake around his back and tug his shirt out of his pants. Gliding across his hard, muscular back, she let her eyes drift closed. It may be a huge mistake to sleep with Wyatt, but it was going to feel really good doing it.
"Just one more thing."
Stiffening, she glared at him. She should have known. Her mother always said if it was too good to be true, it usually was. "Oh, here it comes. Sixty seconds after I agree, and you're already adding contingencies."
The corners of his mouth lifted. "Just one. I promise." He tugged on her ponytail. "While you're at my house, you have to wear whatever I want."
Not.
"I don't think so!" He'd have her wearing half of
"Then the whole thing is off."
Damn, she should have known he'd pull that. Digging her nails into his back, she enjoyed it when he winced. "So what does that mean, like anything?"
Nothing could induce her to put tassels on her breasts or stuff herself into a leather bra. Or worse. "You're not going to want me to wear edible underwear, are you?"
His eyebrow rose. "Only if you want to."
Hah.
Of course she didn't … well, maybe if … no, absolutely not. There was wild, and then there was just unnecessary. If he was hungry, he could have a fruit roll-up. It'd be about the same thing.
"Fine." If she were going to do this, she might as well do it right. He could slut her up within reason. He'd probably have it off her in five minutes anyway. She let him press a hard kiss on her.
Then she added in warning, "But I'm not wearing anything that hurts."
"Damn," came his strangled reply.
* * *
CJ kicked her shoes off by the front door of her apartment and sighed. It wasn't even eleven, but she was exhausted. Yet she knew sleep wouldn't come easy tonight. Not when she had just made out with her coworker, who just happened to be exactly the type of man she swore she would never be involved with again.
Not only had she kissed him in a lobby, she had agreed to spend the night with him and wear whatever he wanted. She should be appalled, not looking forward to it. But somehow she couldn't muster up the necessary outrage, not when she wanted so desperately to just let go for once. To do something wild and selfish and irrational.
Padding softly up the stairs in her socks, she saw a light on in her mother's room. She knocked, then opened the door. "Mom? I'm home."
Her mother, nestled in her easy chair and tucked under a quilt, looked up from her book and smiled. "How was work, Christine?"
"Fine." She felt the urge to laugh and squelched it. Leaning against the doorframe, she said, "How was Sam for you tonight?"
Worry ate around the corners of her heart, as it always did when she thought about her five-year-old son, but her mother just smiled.
"Oh, we had a good time. We read his favorite book and watched a Christmas special on TV."
CJ honestly didn't know how she would handle raising a child so difficult to understand and communicate with as Sam was, if it weren't for the constant support of her mother. She sometimes wished that she could find the inner peace about Sam's autism that her mother had. CJ just loved him and worried about him and hoped for the best.
"That's good." She hesitated, looking down at the carpet, hoping like hell she wasn't blushing. Almost thirty years old, and she was embarrassed to confess that she had plans to spend the night with a man. "Are you busy tomorrow night, Mom? Because I may have to stay out overnight."
Her mother looked surprised, with good reason. CJ had been quite firm with Nordstrom that she couldn't take cases that kept her away longer than twelve hours or required travel.
"That's unusual," her mother said, putting her bookmark in her novel. "But I can be here, sure."
"Thanks." CJ made the mistake of meeting her mother's gaze and she felt heat blaze across her face, giving her away in Technicolor scarlet. "Lying Slut" might as well be stamped on her forehead.
But her mother just studied her, a slight smile on her face. "Christine, do you have a date tomorrow?"
Reduced to fifteen years old and caught with John Wilson's hand on her breast, she squirmed. "Sort of."
"That's wonderful. I'm so pleased you're getting out of the house. It's not normal to be your age and never go out with men." Her mother tucked her graying brown hair behind her ear. "It's been three years since Scott left and as far as I know, you've never been on a date in all that time."
This wasn't a date either. It was sweaty sex with Wyatt, probably involving sheer black lingerie and multiple orgasms. That was her hope anyway. The orgasms, not the Band-Aid-sized bra.
When she didn't say anything, her mother continued, her tone casual but curious. "It must be beyond a date if you're thinking about spending the night. Anyone I know?"
There were certain places CJ didn't want to go with her mother, and the bedroom was one of them. Yet her mother looked calm and unperturbed, as if they talked sex every day, giving each other advice on the best positions and how to please your man during oral sex.
CJ was mortified. She said reluctantly, "I'm going out with Wyatt Maddock."
And now her mother knew precisely what she was planning on doing with Wyatt. All night.
"Wyatt?" Her mother finally looked ruffled. "Oh, my. Make sure you take condoms, Christine."
His reputation preceded him.
With no idea what to say, CJ just nodded. "Of course."
She hadn't even given any thought to protection. Just the idea of going to buy
condoms made her want to call this whole thing off. She couldn't just assume
Wyatt would have condoms, though she thought it was highly likely he owned stock
in Trojan. She hadn't bought condoms since she had been training at
Immediately after that she had met Scott and they had gotten married, and he had provided the protection until he had walked out two months after Sam had been diagnosed.
Thinking out loud, she said, "I guess I'll go buy some tomorrow."
Her mother said, "Oh, I have some you can use." And she stood up and riffled through her dresser drawer.
"What?" Oh, Lord, her mother had condoms. "Why do you have those?"
Okay, so that was an asinine, idiotic, obvious question, but her mother baked—she wasn't supposed to have condoms.
Holding the half empty—good God, half empty—box out to her, her mother said in amusement, "It's been over ten years since your father died. I'm only fifty-five."
Taking the offering, CJ backed up. "I'm going to bed." To stare at the ceiling and ponder how between Wyatt and her mother, her psyche had suffered irreparable damage tonight.
"Good night, dear."
"Good night." CJ bolted down the hall, stopping at Sam's bedroom door and peeking in on him.
His bedroom was tiny, but CJ had been grateful to find a three-bedroom town house to rent after her mom had moved in with her six months after Scott had left. She relied on her mother in a way she hadn't been able to rely on her carefree, life-of-the-party husband, even before they had found out Sam was autistic.
Though sometimes she just ached with wanting to make life easier for Sam, as she watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling beneath the dinosaur sheet, she knew she wouldn't trade him for anything. Every moment with him was a pure gift, an appreciation for every accomplishment and a joy that he was her child. Unfortunately, his father hadn't felt the same way.
CJ didn't touch Sam, knowing all too well from experience that if he was awakened, it could take hours to get him back to sleep. But the sight of him snuggled up to his stuffed puppy, peaceful in sleep, made her smile. Awake, sometimes Sam looked downright tortured, but asleep his mind was at rest.
Every minute of every day for the last five years she had done everything with Sam in mind, first and foremost. But tomorrow night, she was going to do something just for her. Wyatt was a better man than her ex—she knew that just from working with him every day. He was a hard worker, responsible, honest. But he was still a playboy, and while that was all wrong for her on a daily basis, she had an idea it would be all right for one night.
She needed to let go, to live, to burst out of the confines of her life and give her body some much-needed attention. The oil in her car got changed every three thousand miles, the blades in the lawnmower sharpened every spring, and this was no different. Just a little tune-up, to make sure all her parts were still in working order.
Closing Sam's door, she headed toward the bathroom, the condoms still in her hand, excitement surpassing fear and nerves. This was going to be quite a night.
Maybe she should have let Wyatt get edible underwear after all.
* * *
He was acting like a girl. After switching the tablecloth in his dining room twice, Wyatt commanded himself to get a goddamn grip.
This was CJ. She would probably be happy with beer nuts on the couch.
That was actually something he liked about her. Unlike so many acrylic women he dated, CJ was not high-maintenance.
Yet he didn't want her to look around his apartment and draw any negative conclusions about him. For some weird-ass reason, he wanted CJ to like him. Or at least not to hate him. And to not be disgusted with herself for wanting to jump his bones.
He figured that's where a lot of CJ's animosity came from. She was pissed at herself for being attracted to him. Which he could relate to. He was having a hard time accepting his own body's response to her.
Why that had him tied up in knots and wasting the better part of a day dragging out his fake Christmas tree and sad-looking ornaments so his apartment would look more … something, he had no idea. Most years he didn't even put the tree up if he wasn't dating anyone seriously, which he hadn't been for a good three years now, and if he did, he sure didn't do it the first week in December. But there it was, a little on the scraggly side with a crooked star on top.
After the tree, he had come close to electrocuting himself stringing white lights around his enclosed patio, and as he quickly set the dishes on the red tablecloth he had found in the back of one very dusty cabinet, he wondered if he shouldn't have gone out with Brandy Dempsey tonight instead. At least he knew what he was doing, where he stood with a woman like that. With CJ, he felt like he was swimming in pudding.
Maybe it wasn't too late to cancel the whole damn thing.
The doorbell rang.
His cock leapt forward in greeting. His gut cramped painfully. His mouth went drier than the wine.
Or maybe he should cut the crap and just rip her clothes off the minute she walked in the door.
When he opened the door and ran his eyes over her, she crossed her arms defiantly.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi," she mumbled to the hall carpet.
"Come on in." He stepped back to let her in, amused out of his nervousness. CJ looked like she'd turn and run home with the slightest provocation.
It leveled the playing field.
She hadn't let him down with her choice of clothing. He had been expecting her to arrive in something about as feminine as a Glock gun, and the oversized brown corduroys and beige cable-knit sweater certainly fit that description. She either shopped in the men's department, or she had borrowed the outfit from Bill Cosby.
As usual, her hair was pulled back, and he thought to wonder exactly why CJ wanted to make herself as unattractive as possible. Maybe once he had her wearing what he wanted, she would tell him. Wearing what he'd spent the other half of the day shopping for when he wasn't wrestling with Christmas decorations.
Knowing CJ though, she was just as likely to pull her gun on him, or give him a shove, than to spill her secrets. And hell, maybe she just liked to be comfortable.
Reaching out, he took her hand and tugged her to him. She dug her heels in, making a sound of annoyance and rolling her eyes.
"First things first," he said, bending over her to fill his nostrils with her scent.
Her lips parted, giving her away despite her stubborn expression. She expected a kiss, wanted one. Wyatt brought his mouth close to hers, his shoulders tense as he watched the way her chest rose and fell, her lips shiny and damp, dewy with anticipation.
"First, this has got to go," he murmured without touching her, then straightened up, enjoying her little rush of impatient breath.
Digging into her hair, he found the rubber band holding the ponytail in place and with both hands, he pulled until it snapped.
"Oww, Wyatt, that hurts." She reached up to grip her hair at the temples and he realized too late he was pulling her hair.
"Dammit," she complained, pulling away from him.
"Sorry, but babe, you need a new look. Bad." Extracting the broken band, he waited for her hair to fall around her shoulders, to soften into exotic waves and enlarge the way her brown eyes looked.
It didn't happen. Her hair just fanned out slightly, the back still tucked into ponytail position, the sides drooping a little. "Christ, CJ, you look like a lion."
She stuck her hands into her hair and rubbed and shook. It didn't help.
"My hair was wet when I put it up—it probably dried that way. Which is why you should have left it alone."
She didn't add dumb-ass, but it was definitely implied.
And he was having trouble not laughing. She looked like she'd waged a war with static and lost.
"Do you have a brush or a comb or something?" She tucked some strands behind her ears, but they immediately bounced back out. Holding her hair flat against her head, she glared at him.
"In the bathroom." Why in the hell he still had a hard-on was anybody's guess, but not only did he, his cock throbbed as he was reminded of the outfit he had waiting for her. "And you might as well change while you're in there. Everything you need is on the bathroom counter."
Anticipation hummed through his veins.
"Change into what?" She eyed him with suspicion.
Like he'd tell her. He didn't exactly trust her reaction. In fact, he might just have to key-lock the front door to ensure she stayed.
"You'll see. Go on in there like a good girl and get changed. It's all part of our agreement, remember? I can be gone by March at the latest…"
Wyatt planned to take a hell of a memory with him when he transferred.
Three
Somebody in the apartment was on crack, and it wasn't her. CJ stood in the bathroom and gaped in horror at what Wyatt wanted her to wear.
It was a dress.
With flowers on it.
Pink and peach flowers on a black background, and little sleeves that landed just below the shoulder in a ruffle. Who wore a sleeveless dress in December?
Not her.
Of course, she didn't wear dresses. Ever.
"Maddock!" Grabbing the offending garment, she stormed out of the bathroom.
"What?" Wyatt called from behind the closed door of his bedroom. "I'll be out in a minute, I'm changing."
Why, CJ couldn't imagine. He had answered the door in jeans and a T-shirt and it had gotten her pretty hot.
"I'm not wearing this … thing!"
He laughed. "It's just a dress, CJ. If you remember, you agreed to wear anything I wanted."
Crinkling the dress into a soft, silken bunch of crumpled flowers, CJ stared at his bedroom door. "I thought you meant slutty underwear, not a dress!"
Okay, that didn't come out right. She bit her lip and turned toward Wyatt's Christmas tree. The tree surprised her. The dress surprised her. The table set with real dishes and candles, ready for a romantic meal for two, stunned her. It seemed she had made some snap judgments about Wyatt, not all of which were correct.
His head poked out of his door, and he was smirking. "I know how much you want to wear the slutty underwear, since you've brought it up twice now. Don't worry, I got that, too. It just goes on under the dress."
The door closed again, which was a good thing or she would have hit him in the face with the floral foo-foo dress from hell.
CJ stood there in indecision. She liked her own clothes. Granted, she had really gone the slob route lately, wearing a size too big and occasionally veering into the men's department, but they were always clean, and matched. She didn't like clothes that drew attention to her, and in her early days with the Bureau she had fostered an image of tough girl in tough clothes so no one would be tempted to delegate her to undercover prostitute roles.
She wasn't a girly-girl and dresses made her feel vulnerable.
He could forget the dress. She wasn't wearing it. "Wyatt!"
His door opened all the way and he strode out, adjusting his jacket. Her protest died in her mouth. Oh, hell, he was wearing his tux. Shit, shit, shit.
How could she stay strong, true to herself, when he was standing in front of her looking like every woman's fantasy? Or at least her fantasy. No, every woman's fantasy.
His short, light brown hair was carelessly tousled, green eyes dark with desire. He filled that tux from one end to the other with hard muscle, broad shoulders, and long legs, and when he stopped and stuck his hand in his pocket, it felt like lightning had struck her right smack between the thighs. She felt fried like bacon.
She wanted him. Every classy, sexy, hard, masculine inch of him and the only way to do that was to put on a dress. Her life was full of cruel ironies.
There was only one option available. She flung the dress at him, ticked off beyond belief. "Eat the damn dress, Maddock. I'm not dressing up like a … like a…"
He caught the dress one-handed. "Like what? A woman? It's not that big of a deal."
His eyes rolled over her and she tried not to shuffle. She pushed the sleeves up on her bulky sweater, suddenly aware that it really was an ugly sweater. And then there was her hair. She hadn't taken the time to look for the brush, sideswiped by the dress the minute she'd entered the bathroom, and it occurred to her that she wasn't exactly a sexual prize.
It was a wonder the man didn't look at her and laugh hysterically.
"I have this crazy idea that you've got an incredible body under those sacks you wear, and I wanted to see it. I also want to have dinner with you, and if you sat down at the table in a black lace bra, neither one of us would even touch the food, so I thought it might be nice if you wore a dress over the slutty underwear. Nothing sinister about that."
No, there wasn't and CJ felt like a big, baggy idiot.
"Fine. Give it to me," she snapped, holding out her hand.
Wyatt narrowed his eyes. "You're not going to pump bullets into it, are you?"
"No!" Fire would destroy it more thoroughly, and that would have to wait until tomorrow. "I didn't even bring my gun."
He started to hold the dress out, then pulled back. "Are you going to put it on?"
"Yes. I, CJ White, do solemnly swear to wear the ugly-ass, shower curtain-looking dress for a period of at least one hour. After that, I'm not responsible for my actions. Happy?"
"Thrilled," he said, looking anything but.
She ripped the dress out of his hands and headed for the bathroom. This was why she never dated. It was a pain in the ass.
* * *
Someone had stolen her breasts and replaced them with the bottom half of two watermelons.
Yikes. CJ stared into Wyatt's bathroom mirror at her flesh spilling up and out of the top of the black lace bra he had provided. What had looked so tasteful and simple lying in the lingerie-store box on the counter, looked outrageous actually on her body.
Yet the thing appeared to fit. Everything was where it should be, it's just she was used to bras acting as support, worn for function. This thing was designed solely to produce eye-popping cleavage, and that it had. CJ wondered if she should worry that Wyatt had managed to guess her bra size correctly. What that said about a man she couldn't even imagine.
The panties fit, too, even if they were about as comfortable as a Pap smear. She kept reaching down to pull them up, only to realize they were up as far as they were going to go. But if she had to assess herself, she didn't look half bad. As far as sexy went, it had her white, waist-high panties and industrial-strength athletic bra beat.
Next the dress. CJ slipped it on over her head, struggling to get it to shimmy down over her body. After several false starts, she had the thing in place and was reaching behind her back to zip it. The dress fit as well, which made Wyatt really scary, in her opinion. The contortionist position only allowed her to zip it up to her shoulder blades, but that would have to be good enough. There was no way she was waltzing out there unzipped and asking Wyatt for help.
Digging around in Wyatt's drawers, she found a hairbrush, but nothing else of interest. No sign of a woman, or women, hanging out in his bathroom on a regular basis. Though he did have a bottle of kids' Flintstones vitamins.
Wetting the brush, she managed to tame her hair. Sort of.
Then there was nothing left to do but put on the strappy little shoe-sandal things and head out there.
If she didn't trip and fall on her behind first.
* * *
Wyatt was getting impatient. How long did it take to put on a dress? Not this long.
She wasn't going to do it. He should have known not to push quite so hard. He should have kept it to the bra and panties, and let her put her own clothes over top. That would have been a big enough thrill, sitting through dinner, knowing she was wearing sheer lace under her guy clothes.
But he had wanted to see the whole package, selfish SOB that he was. He just hoped this didn't make her bolt.
Convinced that she wasn't wearing the dress, he almost swallowed his tongue when she opened the door and stood there, looking sexy as sin and all woman, the black dress nipping in at the waist, hugging her thighs, and trailing down to mid-calf. Her bare legs looked smooth and toned, and even though she wobbled a little as she ground to a halt in the sandals, she still made him go hard.
And that was just the bottom half. The top half had him clamping down on his lips so he wouldn't groan out loud, and hoping like hell he wouldn't come in his pants. Damn. CJ had been hiding a killer rack under those baggy sweaters.
The dress did a little crisscross thing, cupping each breast, and her whole upper chest was exposed to him, creamy flesh descending down into cleavage so healthy he could rest a coffee mug on it. Yet despite her concerns that he would go for slutty, it was a very tasteful and feminine dress. It wasn't anything other women didn't run around in all the time, but the combination of never having seen CJ wearing anything even remotely close to that, and those curvaceous mounds of pale skin popping out and waving hello at him, had him wanting to sit down and take a deep breath.
"You look…"
"Stupid," she said and crossed her arms over her breasts, ruining the view.
"Don't put words in my mouth." Put your breast in my mouth instead.
"You look amazing."
"The amazing CJ White, that's me."
He didn't care how sarcastic she was being, she was amazing. He was absolutely floored at how gorgeous she was, but that she still managed to look natural. She wasn't wearing any makeup, didn't need to with those wide brown eyes and high cheekbones. Her lips were shiny without benefit of lip gloss, and now that she'd pulled a brush through her hair, it fell right to her shoulders where he had anticipated, framing her face softly.
"Thank you for wearing the dress." He appreciated it more than she could imagine.
She looked ready to be flippant, but then a mere, "You're welcome," came out of her mouth. Turning to the table, she added, "What are we having for dinner?"
"Beef tenderloin. Is that okay?"
Squeezing her lips together, she nodded. "Is it ready?"
"Yes. Have a seat." As he headed toward his small kitchen, he hit the PLAY button on the remote for his stereo. Frank Sinatra filled the room, crooning softly.
CJ snorted. When he looked at her in question, she said, "You're really good at this, aren't you?"
He frowned, not liking her implication. "What do you mean?"
But she just shook her head. "Nothing."
That was a lie, and he knew it. CJ thought he was some kind of male slut, which wasn't even close to the truth. Just because he dated different women, and hadn't had a serious relationship in a while, didn't make him some kind of serial dater.
Pissed off, he said, "If you don't like the music, I can turn it off."
As he plunked a bowl of dinner rolls down on the table, she sat with her hands folded in her lap.
"Touchy, Wyatt. Geez. I take it I'm the first woman who didn't appreciate Ol' Blue Eyes playing while you seduce me."
So that was it. She was feeling like a bedpost notch. Little did she know, that she was unlike any woman he'd ever dated, and that he had gone to more trouble in twenty-four hours than some women saw from him in two months. "Actually, you're the first woman I've ever invited to my apartment for dinner."
He was surprised to realize it was true. He usually took a woman out, then went to her place if either of them was inclined to take it to the next step. It was better that way, less personal, and easier to disentangle himself in the morning.
CJ looked like she thought he was full of shit, but she stood up and said, "Let me help you."
This was more awkward than he had ever imagined. But awkward pretty much summed up his relationship with CJ to date. That and aggravating. Except for the night before, when they had kissed in the lobby. Nothing awkward or aggravating about that.
So when they sat down at the table, ready to eat, the wine uncorked, Wyatt thought it might be easier to talk about work.
"I heard the Delco case will be going to trial in February." Delco was the previous case they had been assigned to, a major pharmaceutical corporation involved in price-fixing.
"That's fast. Where did you hear that?" CJ smoothed her napkin out in her lap, studying her fingernails.
"Knight told me. I talked to him today."
"What's he up to?"
"Wedding crap. Reese is planning a bigger wedding than Knight expected."
CJ looked up at him with a cynical smile. "Tell her to save her money. You spend twenty grand on a wedding and then half the happy couples get divorced."
"Why so cynical? You been divorced?" Wyatt had never even come close to getting married, though he had nothing against it. If he were ever dumb enough to fall in love, he imagined he'd want to get married, too.
"Yes."
That startled him. He'd been kidding, not really thinking that CJ was speaking from personal experience. "Oh, hey, foot in mouth. Sorry." Then because he was a nosy guy and he wanted to know CJ, understand her, he asked, "What happened?"
She shrugged. "It didn't work out. He moved out. We got a divorce."
Not that he had expected her to break down and confess her deepest, darkest secrets, but getting CJ to open up was like pulling teeth. He had worked with her for almost a year, and he knew what he had observed about her. She was hardworking, reliable, quick with her wit, and damn smart, but he knew nothing about her life, how she lived, what mattered to her.
Ignoring his dinner, he sipped the wine and said, "Talk to me. Tell me something personal about you. I want to get to know you, CJ."
CJ didn't want Wyatt to know her. She was already sorry she'd blurted out that revealing remark about divorce statistics. It was important to her to stay private, because if she started opening up, telling Wyatt about herself, then she was going to wind up involved with him emotionally.
Which would make her vulnerable. Out of control. Able to be hurt.
Sex was one thing. She'd give him that gladly. But if he thought they were going to be friends, well, she'd rather talk orgasms with her mother.
"It's a boring story. What about you, Wyatt? Tell me about you." Then she stuffed half a roll in her mouth so he couldn't expect her to say anything for at least a minute and a half.
Leaning back in his chair, he held his arms out, which stretched his jacket and showed off his chest, though she didn't think he was aware of it. Her fingers itched to get beneath his tie and rip it off, thigh wrapped around him, FBI femme fatale on the loose.
"I'm an open book, babe. What you see is what you get. I work, I hit the gym, I hang out with some old friends from college from time to time, and I watch TV."
He made it all sound so innocent. "And you date, don't forget that."
With a laugh, he bent forward again, reaching for his fork. "Yeah, I date. Jealous?"
Please. She was not missing a single thing. Which didn't explain why she hotly blurted out, "I date, too." Once a decade or so.
Given that look on his face, she didn't exactly have him fooled. But he only said, "No, I meant are you jealous of my dates?"
A snort left her before she could contain it. "I'm not usually jealous of big hair and even bigger boobs."
Wyatt's eyes dropped to her chest and lingered. "With good reason."
Heat flooded her face. Shoot, she had walked right into that one. Unable to think of a snappy comeback, she took the other half of the roll and threw it at him. He caught it midair as she said, "Stop staring at my chest."
Like that was a smart thing to say. It made it even worse, since he looked both amused and smug. God, he reduced her to a bratty twelve-year-old starting a food fight. Or maybe that wasn't him. Maybe it was the embarrassing awareness that she might have been missing something for the last three years. She was so out of touch, she didn't even know how to have a simple dinner conversation or respond to light flirtation without acting childish.
But Wyatt only said, "I haven't even started looking yet." Then he lifted the roll she'd thrown at him and bit it.
Not liking the idea of her spit mingling with his, CJ leaned forward and held out her hand. "My roll, please."
Of course, his tongue had been in her mouth the night before, but that was different. How she didn't know, but she'd figure it out later when her nipples weren't hardening and her already-too-low panties weren't sliding down.
He shook his head. "Come and get it."
The roll waved slowly back and forth in front of her.
"There's a whole bowl full right here," she said, pointing out the obvious, not wanting to play his little games. Or maybe her little games, since she had thrown the roll in the first place.
"But it drives you nuts, doesn't it, that I have your roll?" And he took another bite.
He knew how to bait her too easily. But then he'd had nine months' practice doing just that. For five seconds, she watched him chew, making "mmm-mmm good" sounds, before she gave it up. She had kicked off the dumb little shoes and now she stood up barefoot, padded around the table on the soft carpet, and reached over him for her roll.
Just as she was about to grab it, Wyatt jerked his hand back, so that she wound up leaning dangerously far over him before pulling back, empty-handed. "Very funny."
He just laughed, then taunted her with the bread again.
Knowing she should be mature and just let him have the stupid half-eaten lump of dough, she still did the exact opposite. After all, wasn't this whole night supposed to be about giving in to impulse? Having fun? Playing games with Wyatt was fun.
She made another quick grab for the roll, only this time when he pulled back, she lost her balance and fell hard against his shoulder. Before she could say Slick Rick, he had her in his lap, hand on her thigh, settling her bottom nice and close against his waist.
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have gotten her down, but the dress had her off balance. It was hard to move wrapped like a floral mummy.
"You did that on purpose." CJ mustered a glare, even though she really just wanted to lean back against him and purr. Or laugh.
It had been a really long time since she had indulged in this kind of silly bantering. For all she professed to be annoyed by Wyatt, secretly she enjoyed their verbal byplay. There were days she looked forward to going to work, just because she was anticipating sparring with him. Not that she'd ever admit to that, not even under the torture of wearing stilettos every day.
"I'm sure you don't believe this, but I don't sit around devising plans to piss you off."
His hand was on her knee, stroking, making her itch and ache and want to squirm. "So you just spontaneously piss me off?"
"I guess you could say that. But maybe if I ask you ahead of time, we can avoid the whole problem."
There was a trick here, she just knew it. An April Fool's or Halloween kind of trick, where she was going to be left empty-handed, feeling slightly ashamed.
She turned to him. Big mistake. Big, fat, eight-hundred-pound-gorilla mistake. He was right there, watching her. Two inches or less from her mouth. She could smell the wine on his breath, feel the heat of him surrounding her, see the light stubble on his chin.
"Would it piss you off if I kissed you right now?"
That was the trick and as far as tricks went, it wasn't a bad one. CJ was on the verge of tugging him by the tie over to her anyway. She shook her head. "No, that would be okay."
More than okay. Orgasm okay.
"Just okay?" He made an impatient sound.
"Well…"
Her words died as he took her mouth, slow and deep, covering her, hand gripping her knee as he tasted her. There was nothing tentative about Wyatt as he sucked the tip of her tongue, sliding, owning, dominating the kiss, leaving CJ breathless and clinging to his shirt. Geez, he had the trick and the treat.
He was melting her innards, heating her up from the inside out, like microwave brownies, smushy and gooey, hot liquid. And they hadn't even gotten past the opening round. Yet.
Wyatt seemed inclined to change that. His hand was inching up past her knee, sliding under the dress, teasing and light along her thigh, while his mouth dropped down to kiss her neck and her shoulder. When his tongue darted across the top of her breast, she only managed to hold back a groan by biting down hard, but nothing could stop her head from lolling back.
Wyatt pulled away immediately, leaving her skin flushed and damp from his tongue and her nipples tight with frustration.
"I don't want to rush you," he said.
He had to be joking. "No, no," she murmured, sounding as desperate as she felt. "You're not rushing me."
If anything, he was going too slow. She had no problem with heading straight for the hard stuff. Like his erection pressing into her, right between her cheeks. If she wasn't wearing Dumb Dress, she would swivel around and spread her legs on either side of him. But given the confines of rayon, she'd probably wind up pitching herself to the floor and ripping the dress.
And if she tore it, she'd never get to wear it again. Not that that was a bad thing.
But before she could plan a course of action, Wyatt said, "Is this rushing?"
He cupped her breast, and before she had a breath to moan, he kissed her hard, the rhythm of his tongue matching the brush of his thumb over her distended nipple. His other hand shot up under the dress and found the black lace panties.
Desire ripped through her, making her movements jerky as she tried to keep up with his mouth, tried to rub against his hand and encourage him to rush all he wanted. The panties he'd bought her were damp and needed to come off.
She pressed, she ground, she begged with her body for him to take her, make her burst, satisfy this raw need.
Wyatt broke off the kiss and pulled his hands back. As she stared at him, sucking in air, trying to remember where she'd left the condoms, he gave her a gentle nudge.
"Dance with me, CJ." His voice was a little rough, lacking in his standard charming flirtation, but otherwise he didn't look ready to explode the way she felt.
"What do you mean?" She'd been off the sexual circuit for a while, but she didn't think she was that out of it. Dancing only meant one thing to her, and it wasn't what she wanted to be doing right now.
"Stand up." He nudged her again. "I like this song. Let's dance."
Given a thousand chances to guess what he would say, she never would have gotten that right. "Why?"
"Because I want to." He lifted his thighs so that she was forced to stand or tip onto the floor.
She stood and just stared at him. She had no idea what to say, and was waiting for some kind of punch line, accompanied by thigh slapping and hearty chuckles.
"Don't look at me like I'm nuts." He moved away from the table and held his hand out to her. "I want to dance with you to Frank Sinatra. I want to hold you in my arms." With a wry smile, he added, "Please? It's just one night."
Suddenly she didn't want to be reminded of that. Not when Wyatt Maddock was standing in front of her in a tux, holding his hand out for her. Her. Looking earnest and aroused. Looking like a dream.
CJ put her hand in his and clung to sarcasm for protection. "You'd better not step on my foot. I'm not wearing shoes."
He glanced down, holding both her hands. "Cute little toes."
Which made her want to both blush and slug him. Or kiss the quiche out of him.
"Did you get enough to eat? We rushed dinner, didn't we?"
Dinner? They'd eaten dinner? CJ nodded as Wyatt pulled her closer, snug against his chest, his arms tightly around her waist. "I had two bites of beef and half of the roll I winged at you. I'm good."
Normally she had a healthy appetite, but food was the furthest thing from her mind as she dangled her arms by her side, not quite sure what to do with them.
"Put your arms around my neck," he said, swaying just slightly to the music.
Damn, she'd been hoping to avoid that. Biting her lip, she did as he asked, and when her chest rested against his, and he dropped a kiss on her ear, she couldn't help but sigh in pleasure. She had offered Wyatt a quick wham-bam, and here he was wining and dining her, giving every appearance of enjoying himself.
Maybe she didn't have him completely pegged after all.
He said in a husky voice, "I always thought you were beautiful."
And she was suddenly damn glad she was wearing the floral foo-foo dress.
Four
Wyatt was trying hard to breathe. Damn, but CJ was hot. She looked spunky and defiant yet feminine in the dress and her bare feet, and even though she rested in his arms a little stiffly, it felt right. Good.
Like he'd found something he hadn't even known he was looking for.
Where the hell had that thought come from?
Scaring the shit out of himself, Wyatt straightened up a little, removing his mouth from the temptation of her cute little ear that he kept wanting to nibble.
"You dance well, White." Her movements were confident and graceful, even if what they were doing was simply swaying, not really dancing.
She smiled. "I went to theater camp every summer from the time I was twelve to fifteen. I had to take daily dance lessons on everything from jazz to tap to ballroom."
"Theater camp, huh? I have a hard time seeing you in a musical." But then again, he was learning there was way more to CJ than met the eye.
"It was a compromise. My mom wanted me to take ballet, to keep me from spending all my time on the soccer field getting muddy and sweaty. But I wasn't about to put on tights and do plies, so we settled on the theater camp. I actually had fun there."
"Sounds like a better way to spend your summer than I did when I was a teenager. I was washing dishes at my parents' restaurant every night."
Not that it had been all bad. He'd gotten to do what he wanted every day until
"Really?" CJ looked up at him, and he realized that her body had relaxed against his. "That's tough, having to work all the time."
"Yeah, well, we were a family, we all pitched in, but there were good times, too. One night when I was fifteen, Paula Ramsey—who was seventeen, by the way—kissed me with tongue in the deep freeze."
CJ rolled her eyes and he laughed.
"Well, I had my first real boyfriend at that camp. He was from
"What an idiot," Wyatt said.
CJ frowned at him. "It was cute and polite and showed admirable self-restraint!"
Her breasts were pressed against him, her hands tickling up into his hair at the back of his neck, her breath warm on his cheek, and Wyatt saw no need for self-restraint.
"Maybe I'm not cute. Or polite. And I don't plan on showing any self-restraint. But I can make you feel good." He dragged his thumb over her plump bottom lip. "If you want me to stop, tell me now."
They weren't moving to the music anymore and CJ had sucked her breath in on a nervous hitch. Wyatt waited, jaw clenched, hands lightly on her back, for her answer.
"No."
"No, what?" No, don't ever touch me again, you nasty pervert? No, I don't want you to stop until I've come all over you? No, what?
"No, don't stop."
Okay, not as good as his imaginings, but still good.
"CJ, CJ," he whispered, before bending over and sucking the top of her breast exposed above the dress.
He'd been waiting, wanting, too long. While he licked and dampened her flesh, his hands dropped lower on her backside, down to cup her firm behind, to pull her close against him so she could feel his cock pulsing on her thigh. The dress molded to her body, and he could feel the heat between her legs, the sharp, tight jerk of her leg muscles as she pinched her fingers in his neck.
No sound came from her, but her head writhed and her lips were white from clamping down so hard. He wanted to hear her, to feel her, to smell every inch of her smooth, fair skin, so he eased her dress up past her knees. Afraid to rip the delicate fabric, he decided not to pull down the top to expose her breasts, but settled for finding her nipple through the dress with his teeth and nipping and nibbling, sucking and pulling, driving himself insane.
Man, she felt good. Hot, willing woman. And wet. He got the dress past her thighs and cupped her, stroking across the panties, relishing the dampness he felt there. Her fingers cut deep into his flesh, and her eyes were shut tight, but she was still quiet, the only sound of her arousal rapid breathing which she couldn't quite mask.
She was holding back, hiding from him, not wanting to give in to the pleasure and scream out loud. Wyatt wanted her to yell, moan, whimper, to relax with him and share the passion that flared so easily between them.
Shoving the panties to the side, he teased around her clitoris, groaning softly at how swollen she was already. "You're very wet, CJ. I find that really sexy."
There was no answer, just a pink stain on her cheeks that gave away her embarrassment.
He slipped his finger inside her wetness, felt her body clasp onto him and pulse. Her fingers convulsed on his shoulders, and her thighs rocked forward, but still no sound. Everything about her was tight, tense, taut with desire and agitation. He wanted her, but not like this.
Removing his finger, he rolled it around her swollen nub, kissing her on the swell of her breast, trailing his tongue between her breasts. He stroked over and over, feeling her strain tighter and tighter, and he knew that if she came now, it wouldn't be enjoyable for either of them. CJ was holding back, yet seemed determined to forge ahead, bumping against his finger.
It was like she wanted to get it over with. Without revealing anything about herself.
He didn't want part of her. He wanted all of her. Everything. Every inch and every angle, and he wanted her to open her mouth and say his name with all the desperation that he felt.
Just as her grip got tighter and her thighs clenched, he pulled his hand back, preventing her from having a watered-down orgasm.
"Let's get this dress off," he said mildly, wondering if she knew he'd done that on purpose, wondering if she'd be angry. Or if she thought he was clueless about a woman's body and its reaction, assuming that he had no idea she had been on the verge of coming.
Arms still in the air, even after he stepped away, CJ blinked at him. "I was…"
She couldn't seem to finish her thought, her expression so forlorn he had to hide a grin. Wyatt took her by the shoulders and spun her around gently so that her back was to him. He reached for the zipper.
"Shh. It wasn't the right time. You weren't ready."
CJ stiffened and jerked forward so his hand fell off the dress. "Was too," she muttered.
Yeah, but he happened to like his women to enjoy themselves, not willing their bodies to an orgasm so they could go home.
He stepped toward her and pulled the zipper down in one smooth motion. Greeted with the sight of her back descended to the rounded curve of her very nice ass covered in sheer black lace, he swallowed hard. Then reached inside that dress and covered her backside, caressing along the underside of each cheek, teasing with the leg band and bending so he could dart his hand all the way around to her soft mound and brush across it.
Kissing her shoulder, tasting the fresh, clean scent of her skin, he roamed all over her body, exploring her curves with his hands, noting that CJ was lush, particularly in the chest, but strong and firm, with an athletic build. Her waist only dipped in slightly and her behind was solid, smooth muscle. He wondered idly if she could kick his ass if he gave her a chance.
Nah. But the tussle before he won could be fun.
He found her nipples, played with them, straining the dress to accommodate his big hands. She wiggled in front of him, trying to maneuver his touch more fully on her. Wyatt's hard-on was pressing into her tight little ass, making him want to slip inside her panties and take her from behind.
But CJ still wasn't making any sounds and she felt tight enough to snap in half like a pencil.
With a flip of his fingers, he stripped the dress down her arms and dropped it, the upper half pooling on her waist, caught by her hips. Another tug and it fell to the floor. CJ's shoulders rose and fell, her hair moving a little, swayed by the breeze of the dress dropping. He lifted her hair off her neck and kissed her.
She shivered.
Wyatt stepped back to check out the view in front of him. It didn't disappoint. She didn't turn, didn't move, and he ran a finger along her spine, her flesh hot, a sheen of excited perspiration on her skin. He undid the bra hook, but left it alone, dangling under her shoulder blades.
His head was swimming, his desire so intense he could barely breathe. Shrugging out of his jacket quickly, he tossed it on the floor, next to her crumpled dress. His tie was strangling him, but he didn't bother with it. He couldn't keep his hands off her. Especially not when CJ moved just a little, just enough to make her bra straps fall down her arms.
With a quick Houdini effort that he almost missed, she extracted herself from the straps and the black lace fell to the carpet. Whoa. The curve of her breast on the side taunted him, but Wyatt didn't want to face CJ just yet. She seemed more comfortable staring at his Christmas tree than she did facing him. Her body had relaxed, her breathing more natural, her shoulders dropping a little.
And she had taken off her bra, no matter how much she wanted to be discreet about it. That thing wouldn't have gotten on the floor without some help.
Neither would her panties.
So he helped them.
Shifting to her side, his tongue followed the descent of the black lace as he drew them down over her thighs. But he got distracted as he caught the first glimpse of her bare flesh, her light brown curls, and her sweet, musky scent. His fingers shoved the panties past her hips and he stretched across her thigh until he could reach her. Down on his knees, his tongue teased between her legs, forcing her to step apart to allow him room, her panties straining across her knees.
A raspy little moan jerked from her.
Wyatt throbbed with triumph. Crouching down, facing her as he spread her apart, he took another long, leisurely taste, holding onto her thighs to keep his balance as her moist inner folds trembled beneath his tongue.
Her hands went into his hair, and she said, "I'm going to fall. I can't spread my legs like this with my panties still on."
Looking up the long length of her pale, naked body, past her dusky, damp curls and her flat stomach to the most incredible breasts he'd ever seen, he smiled at her. "You're going to spread your legs a lot farther than this before we're done."
Her eyes squeezed shut. "Oh, God."
Wyatt pressed a kiss on her clitoris, then sat back on his haunches to wait, to think, to watch. Her breasts rose up and down, and he drank in the sight of them, marveling at what those baggy sweaters had been hiding. She was stacked, voluptuous but perky, her nipples rosy, her areolas a deep, ruddy red, and large. He wondered if they would even fit fully into his mouth.
His hard-on pressed painfully against the tux pants, but still he waited, gauging how close they were to the couch. Just a foot or two back.
Once she opened her eyes, he was going to lay her on that couch and keep her there until she screamed in pleasure. He'd certainly heard sarcasm and disgust come from her. Now he wanted to hear ecstasy.
CJ squeezed her thighs together, her flesh bumping him in the shoulder. Her hands fluttered off his head, she rocked on the balls of her feet. Finally, her eyes flew open and she looked at him impatiently.
"What are you doing?"
"Move forward a little." Tugging her hand, he dropped onto the couch, sitting on the edge.
She took a tentative step, her belly level with his eyes. Wyatt lay down, mouth wet with need. CJ leaned over him.
"You look weird still wearing a tux tie." Her fingers undid the black tie and stripped it from around his collar.
Her breasts were dangling in front of him, and he clamped down the urge to grab on and suck them hard. Instead, he nudged her up a little. "Put your knees on either side of me."
She did, then leaned over again, like she wanted him to take her nipples. Not wanting to be distracted, he raised his head a little, grabbed her ass and shoved her toward him until his tongue and her labia collided.
CJ let out a cry of shock before she could stop herself. Wyatt had pulled her onto his … oh, help, he was…
She was sitting on his face.
Even her armpits must be blushing.
She tried to pull away, to lift up, to evade his tongue, but he was strong and she had nowhere to grab. Her legs were bent awkwardly, preventing her from getting a good grip on anything, and even when she swatted at his head, he didn't stop.
Which was a damn good thing, because despite her embarrassment, it felt good. Catastrophic, sound barrier-breaking good. He was doing all kinds of interesting little things, moving slow and sure, flicking and sucking, and CJ found herself sinking down onto him.
He was holding her firmly in place and though she felt exposed, naked while he was still completely dressed, his touch was so delicious, so erotic, that she couldn't bring herself to forcibly remove her body from his. She sank, sank down, sliding her knees out on either side, grabbing the arm of the couch behind his head for support as heat tore through her.
As he stroked her over and over, randomly dipping his tongue inside her before darting back to her clitoris, CJ couldn't prevent a little moan from escaping. Her body was ready to let go, and she wanted to have her orgasm before Wyatt denied her again. She had no idea what that had been all about earlier, but she didn't intend to let it happen again.
But Wyatt did pull back, just a little, far enough to glance up at her and murmur, "Relax, CJ."
Relax? She was sitting on his chest, her butt resting on his shirt buttons, completely naked, while his tongue swam laps across her crotch, and he wanted her to relax?
"I don't know what you mean."
And if he didn't stop talking and get back to work, this position was going to become really embarrassing. They weren't filling out office forms. She was naked.
"You're tense. I just want you to relax and enjoy it."
"I'm enjoying it," she said through gritted teeth. "Or I was until you stopped."
He sat up without warning, and she would have sprawled all over him if he hadn't caught her and flipped her onto her back. She barely had time to blink before he kissed her, wild and wet, and then he was gone, down to her breasts, sucking one nipple, then the other.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked, thinking that he had some kind of orchestrated moves here and obviously she wasn't complying.
What did she know about sex? She hadn't had any in three years and before that it had been five years since she'd fumbled her way through a first time with someone.
Wyatt probably had sex every … no, she didn't want to think about how often he had sex. It would make her feel inadequate and maybe even jealous.
Moving away from her slick nipple, he said, "Nothing. I just want you to lie there, soft and relaxed, taking what I give you. I want you to make noise, let me know how much you like it."
CJ watched Wyatt kiss a path down her abdomen. She wasn't sure she could give him what he wanted. It had been hard enough to let go of her control, to gamble that this night would be satisfying and not a disaster, and to give in to a wild physical impulse. But now that she was here, now that her own clothes were still in the bathroom and the clothes Wyatt had her wearing were discarded on the floor, she was enjoying what he was doing, but she felt vulnerable.
If she really let go, exploded with passion the way she wanted to, and screamed his name, she wasn't going to be able to retreat at the end of the night. There would be awkwardness, embarrassment, raw feelings. This way she could still keep him at a distance and walk away with a smile and a sarcastic remark.
But that wasn't taking into account what he was doing to her right now.
Wyatt had descended until he was between her thighs again. He took her left leg and rested it on the back of the couch, spreading her legs wide in front of him. Then with his fingers, he opened her folds, reached forward and sucked her clitoris.
He wasn't making this easy.
But she clamped down on her lips, and the only sound in the room was the slight squeak of the leather couch as she squirmed on it, and their breathing, hers ragged, Wyatt's intermittent as he expelled large breaths before returning to torture her.
It was creeping up on her again, that pulsing, deep ecstasy that she could either fight or give in to. She could either hang on tight and feel good, or let it loose and feel way better than good.
Wyatt's movements had changed, had lost their controlled skill. Before it had seemed as if he were an observer, watching her as he fingered her, giving her pleasure but not taking any. Now, he was gripping her hard, his tongue was everywhere, his teeth grazing her thigh, a groan slipping out of his mouth as he enjoyed.
"You taste so good," he said.
The hard edge in his voice was a turn-on, and she believed him. He was losing his playboy charm, becoming desperate and a little rough, and CJ let go of the last vestiges of her own control. Sinking into the couch, she dropped her thighs even farther apart, let her arms sag above her head, and opened her mouth.
What came out of that mouth would have shocked any FBI coworkers who knew the two of them, and hell, even shocked herself. "Oh, Wyatt, dammit, don't stop. You're so good at this."
He didn't stop. And those perfect, desperate, slick, and out-of-control touches sent her rushing into an orgasm.
As it rocked through her, pitching her forward off the couch and gripping his head, she let out a yell to rival a Superbowl crowd after a touchdown. He held her in place, and his mouth continued to move on her as she shuddered and moaned, clawing at the couch in ecstasy.
"Damn, damn," she murmured as her body settled back down.
But Wyatt was up, undoing his pants, pulling a condom out of his pocket. The speed with which he opened the package and rolled it on himself amazed her. Before she could even move any of her still-trembling muscles, he sank inside her. Which made her groan again, loudly and without restraint.
Wyatt didn't wait for CJ's body to adjust. He didn't stroke slowly and ease himself inside. He just took, burying himself all the way as far as she could accommodate. He couldn't stop himself, didn't want to. When CJ had finally found her voice during her orgasm, he had thought he would come right then and there. Never had anything sounded so incredible, so desirable. So satisfying.
It satisfied him to satisfy her. But it also made him ache with a throbbing hardness deep in his gut until he had to take her, had to be inside her warm and wet body. CJ's fingernails scratched his chest under his tux shirt, and he resented the fabric between his flesh and hers, but he wasn't about to take the time to rid himself of it, either.
Her knee was still on the top of the couch, and Wyatt pulled it down and pushed it toward her, resting his hand on her kneecap. He did the same to the other leg, leaving her more fully open to him, and he pulled in and out, wanting to go forever but not sure how long he was going to be able to last.
The sight of her, eyes half closed, arms falling back weakly, her body relaxed and pliant, breasts dancing in front of him, was absolutely incredible. He felt a sense of awe that she was there with him, a need to please her, and a contentment that he'd never felt with another woman.
When she opened her eyes wide and said, "Wyatt, I'm going to come again," he didn't think that anything could sound better.
There was a pause where he could feel her inner muscles quivering and he urged her, "Let me see you come, baby."
When she did, with another violent cry, gripping the armrest, he followed her, digging into her knees as he pulsed with her. The feelings, the shudders and the moans, went on and on until finally he laid his head down on her damp shoulder.
"Jesus, CJ, you trying to kill me?"
"If I wanted to kill you, I'd use my gun," came her lazy, satisfied voice.
Her fingers were stroking along his back, nails lightly scratching his skin. He rolled a little onto his side, so he wouldn't be crushing her, and kissed her forehead.
She didn't snuggle into his arms, but she didn't move away, either, and she didn't make any objections to him still being inside her.
"I hope you have thick walls or your neighbors are going to know exactly what's going on here."
"A flight attendant lives next door. She's probably not home." And if she was, let her be jealous.
Sighing in regret, he pulled out of her, but stayed next to her on the couch, running his fingers along her stomach. "I can't get over how gorgeous your body is. You're like a buck-fifteen under all those baggy clothes, CJ."
She stilled his fingers. "That tickles. And what does a buck-fifteen mean?"
"You look like about a hundred and fifteen pounds." He grinned, giving her nipple a tweak. "And most of that is in your chest."
She gasped. "They're not that big. It's just that the bra you had me put on was defective."
He wished he'd gotten a better look at it before he had unhooked it. "How was it defective?"
"It seemed to think that a woman's breasts belong a half inch under her chin."
"Don't they?" he joked.
With her thumb and index finger, she flicked him in the chest. "No, they don't."
Then she undid one of his buttons. Surprised, in a good hell-yeah kind of way, he let her undo another before he said, "What does CJ stand for?"
He had a real hard time seeing her as a Catherine or a Chelsea.
"Nothing. It doesn't stand for anything." She had four buttons down, three to go.
Without warning, her fingers slipped inside his shirt, running across his chest and he felt renewed life down south. If she didn't watch it, she'd find herself flat on her back.
But he was more than ready to ditch the shirt and pants. He wanted CJ's hands on him everywhere. And he had just the place to do it.
"You want to see my hot tub?"
"You have a hot tub?" She said this like he'd admitted to having handcuffs bolted above his headboard.
"It's out on my patio. Very private, no one can see in." The patio he'd spent half an hour stringing freaking Christmas lights around.
While she sat up and peered toward the sliding door out to his patio, she still said, "I'm not just walking out there naked." She gestured to his pants. "You still have your clothes on, it's not fair."
"I could take my clothes off, no problem."
"No, that's not what I meant. Go get me the bra and panties. I'll wear those."
Naked was what he preferred, but at least this way he could check her out in the sexy underwear. It was only when he'd retrieved them and brought them to her that he realized she'd just ordered him around.
In which case, he had the right to put the panties back on her.
Slowly, with lots of detours along the way.
Five
What felt like half an hour later, Wyatt had her panties back on her and CJ was aroused all over again, wet and limp as a noodle.
Lying on her back on the couch, she groaned when he stood up and said, "Now we'll put your bra back on."
"Maybe we don't need to put my clothes back on." She resisted when Wyatt tried to tug her up into a sitting position. She didn't want to move. Ever again.
He came at her with the black lace bra.
"Oh, no, you don't." Trying to wiggle away, she let out a grunt when he grabbed her.
"I'm serious, Maddock. I'll put the bra on myself." She shot him a warning look, but he didn't see it with his head buried between her breasts.
"Why are you so stubborn?" he murmured, between dropping wet kisses left and right.
"Because I don't want you putting my bra on me. It's weird." And intimate. She needed to steer clear of intimate or she was going to be in trouble.
But he was already slipping the armholes of the bra over her, sliding the sheer lace up, while kissing her neck. She was profoundly disappointed that her nipples were covered, but resigned to his stubbornness outlasting hers, she turned so he could hook the back.
Wyatt's fingers fumbled. "These things are harder to put on than get off." He gave a final tug. "There."
CJ turned back to him, caught between wanting to laugh and whimper in pain. "Obviously."
His eyes bugged out. "What the hell?"
CJ did manage a laugh before she grabbed the bottom of the bra and yanked it down. It wasn't doing a thing cutting across the middle of each of her breasts. "You sort of need to lift them into the bra."
"Oh. Sorry." Wyatt studied her chest, confusion clearing, desire sparking. "I'd be good at that."
Help her. She smothered a laugh and swatted his hands away. "Be quiet and take your pants off."
He grinned back. "Bossy, aren't you? But for some weird-ass reason I don't mind." He stood up and dropped his pants to the floor with one push, then stepped out of them.
"You mind at work." CJ tried not to look at his thighs and that big bump in his boxer shorts, but she wasn't having much luck.
"We're not at work. Order me around all you want."
"Really?" That brought her attention to his face.
"Sure, why not? You wore the dress. I can be submissive, too."
Hah. That was a joke. Wyatt would never be even close to submissive. More likely he'd charm her into thinking he was complying, when really he was getting his way all along.
Reaching for the final buttons still holding his shirt together, she said, "Nah. I don't want to order you around. But the next time I tell you 'don't stop,' I expect you to keep going, alright?"
She had the buttons undone and was bending over him.
Wyatt sucked in hard. "Keep going. Got it."
CJ ran her fingers over his hard, warm chest, feeling the smooth muscles, toying with the edge of his boxers as she kissed his salty-tasting flesh above his waistband. Their breath quickened together, then she slowly pulled back.
"Let's go in the hot tub."
Wyatt groaned. "Tease."
"Look who's talking. You spent ten minutes getting me hot while putting my panties back on."
"Once we're in the water, they're coming back off."
That sounded like a plan to her. "Promise?"
They stood up, and she was flush against him, his erection pressing into her, his hand on the small of her back sending her pulse racing.
Wyatt's eyes were dark, and a satisfied smile turned up the corner of his mouth. "I always knew there was a hell of a woman hiding behind those baggy clothes and that frown."
His comment irritated her. Maybe because he had read her so easily, seen her desire for him. Or maybe because somehow she had come to see Wyatt as more than the office flirt, started to picture him as belonging to her. Which she couldn't afford to do. Not when she had her son to think about. Wyatt was good for one night, nothing more, and she was going to remember that or force herself to walk away.
"Don't get too cocky there, Maddock. I still hate you, you know." CJ flushed as she heard her own words. That was rude, nothing but plain bad manners.
But Wyatt just laughed. "Sure you do. Whatever you need to tell yourself."
He kissed her—a soft, gentle brush that made her feel about as big as a flea.
She rolled her eyes and sighed. No matter if she choked on it or not, she needed to apologize. "Alright, I don't hate you. I actually kind of like you."
He didn't gloat like she expected, or laugh hysterically. Instead, he tossed her hair out of her eyes and smiled softly, which only served to cement her opinion that he was much nicer than she'd ever realized.
Which totally sucked. Because if she wasn't careful, she was going to wind up falling for him. Hard.
Wyatt wasn't surprised at the edgy tone CJ had taken on. He had realized something about her tonight. That she was protecting herself from being hurt. She was attracted to him and she didn't like it because she didn't want to get hurt.
Her ex-husband had left some deep wounds, but Wyatt wasn't an impatient guy. He had the time, the patience, and the easygoing personality to bring CJ around eventually so that she trusted him.
After being with her, sharing what they had, seeing how different it felt, Wyatt
knew he wasn't going to be requesting a transfer to
For her, that was a giant leap forward.
"I kind of like you, too. In a dress. Out of a dress. Even in your baggy-ass sweaters."
Before she could answer, sputter, or grab his nuts in a chokehold, he kissed her, feeling his cock tighten in response. He didn't think he'd ever get enough of CJ. He loved that there was nothing phony or overblown about CJ, that she was who she was, and he suspected he was on the verge of acting like a damn fool over her.
Tomorrow anyway, when CJ wanted to stick to their original agreement and he had to explain that he wanted to be with her. That was a conversation he wasn't looking forward to.
But tonight they were in sync.
Breaking the kiss, he reached for the sliding glass door that lead to his patio. He had chosen this unit because it was on the corner of the building, and the high brick walls made the small patio completely private.
"The lid's already off, and the water's nice and hot, but it's going to be cold when we step outside."
She rolled her eyes. "No kidding. It's December and I noticed the foot of snow on my way over here."
Here he was trying to be considerate, and she was being a smart-ass. Opening the door, he grabbed her by the arm and gave her a friendly, helpful nudge outside. Right through a large snowdrift.
"Shit!" CJ bounced out of the snow pile, which had gone past her ankles, and hopped over to the hot tub, her mouth drawn down in a wince. "Maddock, that is not funny!"
The bouncing did really great things to her breasts, and Wyatt watched from the doorway in horny amusement. "Hey, you were the one who got all smart about it. I was trying to be nice."
CJ had bent over in front of the hot tub, brushing snow off her foot. Goose
bumps raced over Wyatt as he stood in the open doorway and thirty-degree
She turned right as he strode toward her, risking her wrath in pursuit of hot water. Her arm moved and then a big, wet ball of slushy snow slapped him in the chest. It was so cold it stung, sliding down toward his stomach as he let out a strangled groan. "Dammit, White."
CJ had already climbed into the water and was submerged to her chin, grinning at him. "You can dish it out, but you can't take it, huh?"
He could take it. Oh, yeah, he could take it. Wyatt jumped over the side and into the water, sending a wave flooding in her direction.
Water crashed over her face and CJ rubbed at her eyes. "Geez, you're like a tank dropping into the water."
That didn't sound like a compliment. "Watch out, I might roll you over."
Wyatt pinned her against the wall and surrounded her with his arms. Her face was pink, water droplets running down her cheeks, her bangs flat on her forehead. As she breathed, her hot breath turned to steam in the cold winter air, and Wyatt was blown away by how beautiful she was.
The bubbles from the jets floated between them and CJ braced her hands on his chest. "You don't scare me."
"No? Because you scare me." He kissed her chin, the corner of her mouth, tasted the coolness of her skin, nudged his thighs between hers.
"How do I scare you?"
Her head tilted to allow him access to her neck, and Wyatt bent over her, groaning when he saw her breasts break the surface of the water, the black lace clinging to her curvy flesh, pink nipples straining against the sheer fabric. "It scares me that I want you so much."
CJ paused, then her fingers start to roam lower, from his chest to his stomach. "You don't need to be scared of that. Just take me."
There was an idea. A damn good idea. He reached under the water and ditched his boxers. He let them go and they floated to the surface. CJ's breath hitched.
"Your boxers fell off."
"Damn jets."
Reaching around her back, he unhooked her bra. "Oops. It knocked your bra off, too."
She gave him a look.
"What?" He watched the bra float to the left, caught in a jet propulsion. Her creamy pink breasts looked so wet and round, and he wanted to eat her nipple, just suck it until she came.
He was bending over to do that when her hand closed over his cock. "I like the Christmas lights hung around the patio wall," she said.
Wyatt froze in place. His near brush with death by electrocution was forgotten as her light fingers stroked over him under the water.
His response was a cross between a grunt and a roar. He sounded like a sleeping lion being nudged awake. It might have been embarrassing except that CJ's hand moved up and down, slowly, giving him a little squeeze now and again. Embarrassment fell far behind delirious pleasure.
"It looks very cheerful, romantic," she went on casually, like she had no idea she was giving him a hand job. "Thank you for going to so much trouble tonight. This wasn't what I expected."
He was having a little trouble thinking clearly. Her breasts were bumping into him, all warm and wet and round, and her mouth was right in front of him, dewy and plump from his kisses, her damp hair clinging to her rosy cheeks. Her hand moved over and over, squeezing the head of his cock and ducking low to cup his balls.
Though he wanted nothing more than to just explode under her touch, he saw an opportunity to clear the air between them. "CJ, I only sleep with about ten percent of the women I date, and I never bring them back to my place. The only female in this hot tub before you was my three-year-old niece."
Her hand stilled. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I'm attracted to you, yes. But I also really like you, and I don't want this to be just one night."
Before she could protest, he took advantage of her confusion and sat down on the bench next to her and pulled her toward him. Catching the underside of her breast with his mouth, and giving her little nibbles, he reached through the bubbles and tugged her panties down to her knees.
"Wyatt…"
He could hear her saying no in that word, feel her reluctance to believe or accept that they could be anything beyond frigid coworkers or have more than this night together. He never would have imagined he would be determined to talk CJ into his bed and life on a permanent basis, but then he'd never seen the reality TV invasion coming, either.
"The jets knocked your panties off, too."
Through the hot water, he eased his hand between her thighs and stroked across the front of her pubic hair, cupping her mound and enjoying her little lurch forward. Wyatt didn't have all the answers. He couldn't predict how a relationship with CJ might turn out, but he did know he wanted to try. She fascinated him, with her honest stare and her simple, no-frills attitude.
"I'll never ask you to wear a dress again." Wyatt slid his thumb inside her and turned it a little.
"Oooh," she said, grabbing his arms, as her body happily responded. "Can we talk about this later?"
Much later, she figured, when the postcoital lust had worn off, and Wyatt remembered that they had yet to go a day without an argument of some kind. Or at least major eye-rolling on her part. When she somehow found a way to tell him thanks, but no thanks, she could not ask her mother to baby-sit for her every other night so she could dash off and play hide the salami with him until he got his transfer.
Or the fact that she'd never quite gotten around to mentioning that she had a child.
Yep, all that could wait. Because this was her one night, her one chance, and she wanted to wring every last drop of pleasure out of it while she still could, since starting tomorrow she was back to boring underwear and baggy sweaters. Given that reality, there was no telling when she might have another crack at a guy like Wyatt, if ever, before the wrinkles took over and her butt started to droop.
"I'll hold you to that," he said, as his foot stepped on her panties, still caught around each ankle.
While he held the panties in place on the bottom of the hot tub, she lifted her feet out, losing her balance a little as the force of the propelling water rocked her forward. Wyatt pulled her to him, and with no instructions whatsoever from her, her legs spread and wrapped around his waist, until she was cuddled up in his lap. In hot water.
"CJ, I have to get a condom," he said, his hands holding her still, slightly away from his erection, his voice low and tight.
"You should have thought of that before we got in," she teased, sucking on his bottom lip, feeling really damn naughty and not about to give him up even for the two minutes it would take to grab some latex. Not when she'd had her tubes tied three years ago at her ex-husband's insistence.
Sneaking between their wet bodies with her thumb, she stroked him. He moaned and started to nudge her backward away from him. CJ clamped her legs around him tighter.
"Knock it off, White."
"What?" she said, rubbing her nipples against his chest. She closed her whole hand over him and guided her body to his erection.
"CJ!" he let out an alarmed squawk and tried to scoot back. The hot tub wall stopped him.
She sank onto him, allowing herself to moan her gratification loudly, not hold anything back. Wyatt without a condom was beyond anything a reasonable woman could expect to endure for more than thirty seconds without coming.
"CJ, don't, shit, stop…" He tried to push her away, his eyes closed, his lips clamped together in two tight lines.
"Wyatt, we don't need a condom. I can't get pregnant." She didn't want to get more specific right then.
As she moved up and down, savoring the feel of him, resting her head against his shoulder, he relaxed a little.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
He had stopped fighting her, and she moved on him faster, breath hitching. Then without warning, Wyatt responded, giving in, thrusting up inside her so deep she sucked in air hard and gripped his shoulders, feeling every inch of him pulsing in her. The hot water lapped around them and the frigid December air bit across her cheeks. Steam rose between them and CJ watched his face as Wyatt took over, setting a rhythm, pounding into her, holding onto her waist with tight, possessive hands.
His brown eyes had darkened, and his straight teeth were clenched. He rocked her, he held her, and she felt so alive, so in tune with him, fantastically indulged and wickedly sexual. A woman with a man who wanted her, and the feel of him without the condom stroked her sensitive body, reached deep inside her and splintered her with pleasure until she thought she couldn't stand it anymore.
"Wyatt, oh, yes, don't stop…" CJ didn't even know what she was begging for, since he didn't look to have plans to halt anytime soon.
"You're so hot, so incredible," he murmured.
CJ knew she was rushing to an orgasm, felt it building deep inside, felt her hips fall slack, her stomach muscles coil, her head loll back. "Harder," she said, wanting to take all of him, to know that he was strong enough and man enough to understand her and what she wanted.
Some men stared right through her, seeing only the plain hair and shapeless clothes. Others backed down, intimidated by her job or her abrasive manners or her straightforward, no-bullshit attitude. Only Wyatt had figured out a way around her defense wall. Only Wyatt saw inside her, sensed her vulnerability.
Wyatt gave her what she asked for, lifting so hard into her she almost fell over backward. Their thighs slapped together, his grip so tight her skin pinched, her nipples boring into his chest. Their breath mingled together in the cold air, desperate little pants, CJ unable to even moan as he claimed her over and over again.
When she came, raking at his chest, shivering and moaning, her body clamping down on him, Wyatt gave a little laugh of triumph.
"Damn, baby, that's right. Keep going."
CJ locked eyes with him, let him see the pleasure on her face, let him read the freedom she felt with him. The small smile slid off his face.
"Oh, shit," he said, and stopped thrusting, pulsing into her as he came on the heels of her orgasm.
Squeezing her inner muscles tightly over him, she watched his mouth fall open, his eyes drift shut, his breath coming in little strained, frantic groans. His chin sank down as he rode the last waves of pleasure and CJ sighed in contentment.
Resting her forehead on his warm shoulder, his chest hair tickling her, she said, "Hey."
"Hey, yourself."
The bubbles swirled in the water around them, and when CJ glanced up, she saw the stars in the midnight-blue winter sky. His hold had loosened on her, and he shifted her off of him, settling her into his lap, holding her close. It had been such a long time since anyone had held her, since she hadn't had to be the strong one. Her body was relaxed, satiated, and so was her soul.
"I don't want just one night, CJ."
That was the second time he'd said that. The first she had attributed to pre-orgasmic lust, and not to be taken seriously. This could be postorgasmic contentment, or he could just actually mean it. Damn, she really hoped not. Because she just might be tempted to give in, and that would be a gigantic mistake. This wasn't like eating a whole bag of chocolate kisses, which was regrettable—a sign of weakness and an overindulgence—but easily eradicated through a five-mile jog. Once she let Wyatt in, she wasn't going to be able to get rid of him so easily.
He kissed the top of her head. Her breath quickened and her heart melted like same-said chocolate in the microwave on high. Dammit, she'd already let him in.
"Sorry, that wasn't part of the deal," she said in a mean little voice that shocked even her.
Wyatt stiffened. "You're trying to tell me, sitting here naked and thoroughly fucked in my hot tub, that you don't want me?"
CJ felt her cheeks burn. "There's wanting you and then there's wanting you. I want you but I don't want you."
He snorted. "Oh, well, thanks, that cleared it up."
"You tell me what you mean. What do you want beyond one night? Another night of sex? And another? An affair, is that what you want?" She lifted her head off his shoulder and stared out at his fence, not at all sure she wanted to hear his answer.
"No, I don't want an affair, though I do want another night of sex, and another. I want to date you, be together, for God's sake. Is that so hard for you to grasp?"
Actually, it was. Her anger dissipated. "Wyatt, you just want me because you think you can't have me. I've been a bitch to you for months and it drives you nuts."
"I'm not going to dispute that you've been a bitch." He nudged her with his knee and gave her a smile. "But I think you've got me all wrong, CJ. You know, I date women, I enjoy their company, we talk, I have a good time. But none of them ever ties me up in knots and makes me want to string up Christmas lights. You do that. I feel different about you."
"You strung these lights up for me?" She suddenly felt very small, but very happy, cozy in his arms. She couldn't imagine feeling this contentment with any of the men who had asked her out since her divorce. But that didn't mean she was ready to give it a go with Wyatt, not when she had Sam to think about.
"Yeah, I thought it would be romantic. Didn't do it for my damn health, that's for sure. I may know my way around the firing range, but I don't know shit about Christmas decorations. Nearly killed myself twice."
She smiled against his chest, his damp hair tickling her nose as they hovered in the water together. "I'm glad you didn't kill yourself. And I don't know anything about Christmas decorations, either, I leave that to my mom." Staring up at his scratchy chin, she warned him, "I don't know how to be romantic. To me, you show someone you care by getting the oil changed in their car."
His thumb stole across her lip. "Maybe we can learn to be romantic together."
He was going to kiss her and she was going to cave, to forget everything and pretend they could exist in a heated hot-tub world.
"Let's get out of here, my skin is wrinkling." She stood up and gasped as the arctic wind blasted across her slick breasts. Her nipples felt like she'd taken a cheese grater to them and goose bumps rushed over her arms and neck. Her hair froze.
A shocked howl ripped out of her mouth. Dropping back down into the hot tub, she tipped her head into the warm, frothy water to defrost. Gasping, trying to calm her jolted body, she said, "Oh my God, we're trapped in here forever."
And here she'd been trying to exit gracefully and prevent further intimacies. Having to yell for help so the neighbors could toss them overcoats wasn't going to help her maintain an emotional distance from Wyatt.
Neither was rubbing up against him to steal his body heat. She shivered and showed no shame, wiggling into his warm chest.
Wyatt placed his hand square on CJ's ass and enjoyed her jerky movements, her slippery skin connecting with his in lots of interesting places. He'd been regretting not having thought ahead far enough to bring out towels or robes, but now he was reconsidering. CJ had been on the verge of making an escape, and now he had her in his arms again.
But they did have to get out of the hot tub eventually, and maybe if he played the hero he could earn a few extra points. He certainly needed all he could get. "I'll go get some towels."
He nudged her aside.
CJ shook her head. "You'll die if you go out there naked. I'm serious."
Scoffing, he said, "What's a cool breeze? I'm an FBI agent."
She rolled her eyes right back at him. "So am I, you goof. It's freezing out there."
Wyatt sucked in a breath and stood up, walking toward the step to climb out. The shock of the cold air made him want to moan, but he clamped his lips shut. No way in hell was he going to let her see him squirm. When his feet touched the ground, he moved fast, afraid his skin would stick to the flagstones like tongue on metal.
But he refused to run, refused to bend over, and refused to make a sound, even though it was possible his nuts had just frozen off and dropped to the ground. He sure in the hell couldn't feel them anymore.
When he reached the door, he turned and winked at CJ, who was watching him in awe. Then he ran like hell.
In his bedroom, he allowed himself a much-deserved whimper before grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He stuck his feet in sandals, then grabbed a couple more towels and the comforter from his bed. He dropped the comforter by the door, braced himself, and stepped back out into old man winter.
"Holy crap, I need to stick a dome over top of this patio," he told CJ as he approached the hot tub where she waited with only her nose and eyes out of the water.
Her lips broke the surface. "It didn't seem this cold before."
"That's because I was keeping you busy." He stood there, numb in all his extremities, and urged her, "Stand up, I've got a towel."
CJ closed her eyes, then stood up in a rush. She moved up the steps while he wrapped one towel around her, not even taking the time to appreciate that her nipple was level with his mouth. He scooped her up into his arms, losing the second towel in the process, and carried her, dripping, shivering, and moaning, to the door.
Where he promptly tripped over the metal doorjamb in his sandals and tumbled them both to the floor where they landed on the comforter, naked and wet, looking like they were attempting to enact the Kama Sutra.
"Close the door," CJ said, her face stuck in his armpit.
He kicked it shut with his foot, then grabbed her and rolled until they were snug in the blanket, cabbage-roll style.
"We're in," he said, getting one hand on her back and the other on her smooth, cool behind as they both lay on their sides facing each other.
She blinked up at him, shivering, then suddenly, without warning, she laughed. Her whole face changed, her eyes softened, her cheeks got round, her lips curved, and he saw her small, white teeth.
Wyatt had never seen CJ laugh before. Never. She had scoffed, glared, snorted, then tonight had smiled and moaned and begged, but just an honest light laugh he had never heard. There was joy in her face, in that sound, and wham, it hit him, robbing him of all thought.
Damn, he'd gone and fallen in love with her.
Or maybe the sex had just made him stupid.
"I've never seen you laugh before," he said, as her breath tickled his chin and her fingers danced across his sides, giving him goose bumps.
"You've never been quite this laughable before," she said with a grin.
Nope, it wasn't the sex. He really was in love with her. Shit.
"Here I almost froze to death saving your ass from hypothermia and you're laughing at me? Some thanks." He kissed her nose. "Some parts of me may never work again."
"Which parts?" Her laughter cut out, and she opened her eyes wider, the little witch.
He shrugged. "Just the parts that stick out."
CJ's little fingers started to wiggle under the blanket, moving lower. Oh, yeah.
"Maybe I can warm them back up."
"Maybe you can." Their combined body heat had already taken the chill from his skin and her words about set him on fire.
She found him, semi-erect, and went to work, squeezing and rushing along him until he fell back and moaned, enjoying the feeling but knowing it was too soon.
"Jesus, CJ, I don't think I can again…" It was embarrassing to admit, but hell, he'd come twice in the last hour and a half. Three might be pushing it.
"It's okay, I just want to play with it."
Fuck. His dick swelled the rest of the way.
And when her head disappeared as she burrowed down into the blanket, he decided he most certainly could come a third time. In just a minute or two.
Her cool lips closed over the head of his cock and she sucked hard. Shudders wracked his body and he muttered, "Damn, I like the way you play."
Her movements weren't practiced or remote, but were ravenous, tugging, like she'd never tasted anything so good in her life and it had him growling, not wanting to burst too soon. His thighs were on fire, her damp body pressing against him, and he lifted the blanket to peek down at her.
The top of her head was visible, as was her little button nose and her pink, slick lips moving over him, shiny and wet, her cheeks collapsing as she drew half the length of him into her mouth.
"Can you breathe under there?" he thought to ask, aware that the temperature in the blanket had risen rapidly.
"Mmm-hmm," she said, muffled, her mouth too full to talk.
Teeth scraped him gently, fingers massaged his testicles, and he lost it. Reaching down to cup her head, he warned, "I'm done, baby, stop."
Devilish eyes met his. She sucked harder, making a suction sound on his cock with her lips, her tongue flicking out to lick the length of him.
It seemed she had loosened up quite a bit since she'd walked in his door earlier.
He was strung too tight, enjoying her too much. He loved her, he really did, and it seemed natural to stay there, to trust her to tell him what she wanted. Her iron grip and smiling eyes told him to go ahead and explode, and so he did, pulsing into her mouth and nearly ripping the wall-to-wall carpet off the floor.
She held him until he was done, lying back spent, and when she pressed one last kiss on his head, he let out a strangled laugh. "CJ White, you are one hell of a woman."
Fingers trailing across her moist mouth, she said, "Your parts seem to be working just fine, not frozen after all."
Amen to that.
Six
CJ was toasty warm, enough so that it didn't bother her when Wyatt let the blanket fall open, his fingers running across her ribs, tickling her.
Just that little bit of contact, along with his lips pressed to her temple, had her body stirring to life yet again. It was unbelievable the sexual glutton she had turned into in the course of one evening. By morning she wasn't going to be able to walk, and her heart was going to thoroughly belong to Wyatt.
If it already didn't. Which she suspected it did.
"Witchcraft" was playing on the stereo. They had never turned the music off and it had just rolled around to play the same Sinatra CD over and over again. CJ would never be able to listen to Frank again without wanting to tear her clothes off.
"Appropriate song, don't you think?" Wyatt murmured, rubbing his chin into her hair. "You've seduced me."
If she could have moved a muscle, she would have shot him an incredulous look. "I think you've got that backward. You with the tux, and the dress, and the dinner—you seduced me, Maddock."
She was big enough to admit it, especially with his hand brushing across her pubic hair possessively.
"I think we just both acted on what we've wanted for a long time."
"That could be true." It felt so good in his arms, snug in the blanket on the floor, the steam from the uncovered hot tub fogging up the outside of the glass door in front of them.
"I want more, CJ."
There he went again. "I heard you the first two times, Wyatt."
"Well?"
She closed her eyes and said, "I'm thinking. It's complicated." Like the fact that she had a child who needed constant care and Wyatt wasn't the kind of guy who struck her as eager to be saddled with that much responsibility. And she would never just parade a man through her son's life unless she knew it was serious, and she honestly didn't know how serious Wyatt wanted this to be.
It was time to tell him about Sam, talk it out.
"Hey, what's this?" His finger slowed down, right at her bikini line.
"What?" Distracted, she glanced down. Wyatt was bending over, studying the puckered skin there.
"This scar, what's it from?"
Whoops. Dread filled her. The time to tell Wyatt was more than past due. She didn't think his reaction was going to be good. But she had never once denied her son to anyone, and she wouldn't now.
"It's from my C-section." Wyatt had been retreating from the idea of transferring. This might make him reconsider that, which was really for the best.
Too bad her stomach churned at the thought and her heart squeezed painfully.
His head snapped up, wide eyes met hers. "C-section? You had a kid? I'm sorry, CJ."
That confused her. "Sorry for what?"
"Well … something must have happened, since you never said anything. Did you give it up for adoption? I mean, it doesn't live with you, you're not a mother." He watched her, his brows drawing together. "Are you?"
She nodded, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. "Actually, yes, I am. My son does live with me."
"What?" His expression of horror told her how he felt about that. "How old is your son?"
She had known he wouldn't want to have any part in dating a woman with a child. But hearing his distaste felt worse than she could have imagined. "Sam is five."
Wyatt sat straight up. "You have a five-year-old son and you never bothered to mention it to me? We work together, I've known you for nine months, and you never said a word! You don't have any pictures on your desk or anything."
She stiffened and pulled the blanket over her bare body. "My personal life is just that—personal."
"Oh, man." He ran his fingers through his hair. "This is unbelievable. You're lying here with me, sharing what we did tonight, and you don't even tell me something like that? Damn, I'm an idiot. I should have known better."
And she should have, too. "Look, I didn't lie to you, I just didn't see what that had to do with anything. I came here tonight for one night of sex, then you were supposed to ask for a transfer. None of that has anything to do with my having a child."
He shook his head. "It has everything to do with you having a child. I wanted more, CJ. I wanted you. But I just don't know now."
Wyatt couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could CJ have neglected to tell him that she was a mother? To a five-year-old. He didn't care that she had a kid. In fact, it made her all the more appealing, in his eyes. Some of that crusty apprehension she'd shown had made sense. Who knew what had gone on in her marriage, but clearly she was wary of dating, and intent on protecting her child.
The thought of her cuddling up with a kid made his chest inflate with all kinds of embarrassing emotion.
"I expected that from you," she said coldly, propping herself up with her elbow. "Maybe that's why I never told you."
"Expected what?"
"You to react this way. I can't imagine you wanting to date a woman with a child. It would cramp your style."
He saw red. "I don't have a problem with kids, and maybe if you had fucking asked me, I could have told you that myself, instead of you just judging me. If you think I'm such an asshole, what are you doing here with me?"
Naked, sharing the best sex he'd ever had with him.
"Why do you think I'm here? I came here for sex," she said so bluntly that he was sorry he asked.
His gut clenched in pain, he had trouble swallowing.
"I haven't been with anyone since my ex-husband left, and I had an itch. You scratched it."
"Glad I could help," he said with dripping sarcasm.
CJ's lip was quivering. Wyatt saw hurt in her eyes, and thought to wonder what the hell had happened to the ex. He had an idea. "Your ex blew the kid off, didn't he?"
She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Her eyes were fixed on the door behind him. "If you have to know, yes, Scott hasn't seen Sam in three years. When we found out Sam was autistic, he toughed it out for a whole two months, then bolted. He said he couldn't deal with a kid who wasn't normal."
Wyatt heard her pain, felt it shake and shatter deep down inside her, and he reached for her. "Oh, baby, he was just an asshole." He didn't know a damn thing about autism but he knew it couldn't be easy raising a child like that alone.
But CJ twisted out of his reach and stood up. "I can't do this, Wyatt. I can't pretend that we have a future when we don't. I wanted to be free tonight, to just let go for once, and I never pictured you wanting more. But my priority is Sam, and you don't fit what I have in mind for a husband and a father."
If she had been looking for a way to hurt him the most, that was it. It cut so deep, he couldn't think of a single thing to say. It just told him she knew nothing about him. Nothing.
CJ was naked, her skin still flushed, her hair snarled and standing every which way. "I got what I wanted here tonight and I think it's time for me to leave."
He could argue that he was good father material, that he was adored by his nieces and nephews, and that though charming he may be, he was also about as staid and responsible as they came. He didn't drink, he managed his money well, and nothing would make him happier than being woken up on a Saturday morning by warm little bodies bouncing on his bed.
He had just been waiting for the right woman. He had thought he'd found her.
Now he wasn't so sure.
CJ took Wyatt's silence as an indicator that her leaving was fine with him. Turning on her heel, she took off for the bathroom, tears threatening. That had been about as fun as an earthquake, and only slightly less damaging.
She hadn't meant to criticize Wyatt, she just needed him to understand that she had responsibilities that she didn't take lightly. It had been a mistake to come here tonight and pretend otherwise.
Trying not to look at herself in the mirror, she pulled on her own sensible underwear that came up practically to her nose and her baggy pants that were about as big of a turn-on as a stint in the dentist's chair. Likewise for her sweater, and bulky as it was, she decided there was no point in putting her bra back on. It was two in the morning and no one could possibly tell anyway.
The tears were winning the fight and she swiped at them angrily. Pushing up her sleeves, she left the and headed straight for the front door, scooping her bag and coat up off the easy chair on her way by. She had only one goal—get out before she lost it and blubbered like a baby in front of Wyatt. That would make Monday at the water cooler even better than it promised to be right now.
"Do you really think I'd make a bad father?" Wyatt said, his voice hard but vulnerable, laced with pain.
CJ stopped, her hand almost on the front doorknob. She turned and he was standing there, big and tall, light brown hair falling in his eyes. He was naked except for his watch. His tux and the dress he'd bought for her were still crumpled up in front of the couch and she ached in an agony of indecision.
"No, Wyatt, I didn't mean that." He was a good man, she'd seen that—different from her, but caring, concerned about his coworkers, always wanting to take down the bad guys. He was noble and responsible and she had never meant to hurt him. Couldn't have imagined she even had the power to do so. "I just meant that I can't take any chances with Sam. I can't let you into our lives, then have you leave in six months."
Sam couldn't take it, and hell, neither could she. And if Wyatt didn't want to leave, well, she still couldn't have any more children since she'd had her tubes tied. Wyatt deserved to have a family if he wanted one, and she couldn't give him that.
"I love you, CJ."
Her heart wrenched. He stood there, hands on his hips, a stubborn set to his jaw as the tears leapt out of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks in twin rivers. Could he make it any harder? Why didn't he just kick her in the knee and steal her purse while he was at it?
How dare he tell her exactly what she wanted to hear—but couldn't.
Without another word, she grabbed the dress off the floor, opened the door, and bolted.
It wasn't until she got home and she checked on Sam, watching him sleep so peacefully, that the tears fell, rushing and anxious, blinding her. She was turning on the shower, intent on washing the smell and feel of Wyatt off her skin, when she heard her cell phone ringing in her purse.
Startled, she moved into her bedroom quickly and fished it out, tossing the floral dress aside. She wasn't even sure what had made her grab it. "Hello?"
"It's me." Wyatt's voice sounded gruff, but the sound still raced along her spine, causing goose bumps. "I just wanted to make sure you got home okay."
A sob tore loose. Wyatt was so … nice, and she had screwed this whole thing up from start to finish. "I did."
"Good." He sighed. "G'night."
He wanted her to say something, she sensed it in his voice, a pleading, but she couldn't do it. She just couldn't, not when her heart was already shredding. If she allowed herself to think there could be something between them, when she knew there couldn't … well, she just might not ever recover from that kind of disappointment.
"Good night." CJ hung up the phone and stripped off her clothes with trembling cold fingers.
When her pants hit the floor, her mother's condoms fell out of the pocket. CJ figured she'd give them back in the morning. Her mother would need them before she would.
She was never having sex ever again.
Any guy after Wyatt would be anticlimactic. Literally.
Seven
Wyatt's week of self-pity culminated in his getting shit-faced in Pete's Bar on Friday after work with Derek Knight, an agent he'd previously worked with.
"See, the thing is, when I told you it was stupid to fall in love, I had no idea how right I was," Wyatt said, reaching for another pretzel. "I suspected I was right, you know, but damn, was I right. It's like every piece of my body just hurts. I'm in pain."
Derek raised his eyebrow and shifted on the stool next to him. "So talk to her."
"I have. I said good morning to her and she ignored me, then I asked her to go to lunch with me and she said she had packed her lunch. And when I leaned over her desk to get a pen, she fell out of her chair trying to back away from me."
He'd never been one at a loss for words, but when confronted with CJ's icy dismissals, he was about as articulate as a golden retriever. He had thought through their conversation over and over again and was left more baffled than before. If anyone had the right to be pissed, it was him. She'd lied to him. She'd forgotten to mention that she had a kid, yet she was the one acting like he'd done something wrong.
For five days his confusion had been growing, and the beer wasn't helping. Now he wasn't just confused, he had to take a leak, too.
But one thing hadn't been in doubt since Saturday, and that was that he did love her. He wanted CJ, and he knew he could love her child just as much as he did her. He could even understand her reasoning for not telling him. Sort of. And he was willing to forget about it if they could just move forward.
If anything, he loved her more knowing all she had been through. Here she had been worried about her child, trying to seek help for him, and her shyster husband had up and left her. Any man that couldn't love his own flesh and blood just because the kid wasn't perfect didn't deserve to be a father.
"You shouldn't talk to her at work, Wyatt, it probably makes her uncomfortable. Go to her apartment, catch her off guard." Derek grinned and took a swallow of his beer. "Then if CJ doesn't want to talk to you, she'll let you know. Probably with the barrel of her gun."
The thought of that made him laugh a little. "She is kind of a stubborn hard-ass. She likes to take care of herself, and doesn't like help. Maybe this is just her being stubborn."
"Man, I don't know how you can even consider throwing yourself at the mercy of CJ. She scares me a little."
"You should have seen her in a dress." Wyatt got hard just thinking about it. "She's gorgeous."
Derek snorted. "I can't believe you got her in a dress."
"I got her to do a lot of things." Sweat broke out in his armpits.
"Hey, I don't need to know that kind of detail, okay?" Derek held his hand up. "And look, I like CJ. She's a great agent and a loyal friend, but she's not easy to get close to. If you want a future with her, you're going to have your work cut out for you. It'd be easier to just give up, pursue an easier target."
Easy for Knight to say that. He was going to marry the woman he loved.
"I can't do that. I'm going crazy wanting her. And she started wearing these tight sweaters to work, and I look at her looking right through me, and I tell you, man, I'm just gone." The beer had made him maudlin.
"Then go for it. Don't take no for an answer."
Well, that made sense. If Wyatt could corner her, kiss her, coax her, explain carefully how all her arguments were stupid and had no bearing on reality, she would see they should be together.
If her big concern was that he wouldn't stick around, well, he'd just have to prove to her that he could stick around. He'd be so stuck he'd be goddamn glue.
"Thanks, Derek."
"No problem, buddy."
* * *
It had been a mistake to put the dress on. CJ winced as she stepped into a pair of heels she'd borrowed from her mother and rushed past the mirror. But she couldn't help but stroke the fabric across her stomach and remember the look on Wyatt's face when he had seen her in the black dress he'd gotten for her. She didn't think a man had ever looked at her with so much frank appreciation.
Annoyed with herself for letting her thoughts fall back to Wyatt for the eleventh million time in six days, she started down the hall, her toes pinching in the shoes. She didn't want to go to this wedding alone, but it was her college roommate's, after a long five-year engagement, and CJ couldn't justify staying home and kicking her boxing bag like she really wanted to.
She was cutting through the kitchen to yell out the window that she was leaving, when the doorbell rang. Distracted, she watched Sam tumbling in a snowdrift behind the apartment building, her mother standing next to him, before she went to the front door in irritation. It was probably the neighbor's kids selling chocolate bars for sports fund-raisers, and Lord knew she didn't need any more chocolate. She'd eaten a bucket-load in the past few days.
And whoever said chocolate was better than sex had never slept with Wyatt Maddock.
CJ pulled open the door, shivering as the cold air rushed in, and her smile froze. It wasn't the neighbor's pudgy ten-year-old. It was Wyatt, in jeans and a black leather jacket.
Speaking of sex.
Mama. He was so damn hot, drool instantly puddled in the corner of her mouth.
"Hi," he said, giving her a smile that would have a lesser woman flinging her dress to the floor.
She was made of stronger stuff. Her nipples only beaded. "Hi. What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to beg. It's Saturday night and my hot tub is just sitting there, unused, lonely without you. I've got towels and two robes all ready, just waiting for us…" Another slow smile.
Her bones sagged and her inner thighs lit up like a pilot light. There was a reason she couldn't go with him—now, what was it? Oh, the wedding. And her dignity, sanity, and somewhat damaged, but not yet completely obliterated, heart. Another romp in the hot tub would take care of that.
"I have a wedding to go to." She turned around, wobbly in more ways than one, and walked back into her living room. It occurred to her that anything short of slamming the door in his face probably wasn't going to dissuade him.
It didn't. He followed her, juggling two packages in his hands. "I could go with you. I have a tux, you know. Nice dress, by the way."
Then the bastard actually winked. She wanted to string him up by his nose hairs. She had spent all week with her guts feeling like they'd been pureed in the blender, and he was just missing the good sex? "If you're looking for a good time, Wyatt, I'm sure there are plenty of women who'd eagerly jump into bed, and the hot tub, with you. Maybe Agent Dempsey's not busy."
His grin fell off his face. "But I don't love them. I love you. And I'm going crazy. Explain to me why this can't work out, CJ, because I don't get it."
Wyatt set down his packages—which were wrapped presents, if she was seeing them right—and came toward her, intent to touch her written all over his face.
Did she have to wear garlic around her neck to keep him away? Geez, almighty.
Backing up, she maneuvered until there was a couch between them.
It wasn't fair of him to use the L-word. It really wasn't, because given her need to cry into chocolate all week, and the sudden seizure of emotion she'd experienced on seeing him at her door, it was a safe bet she felt the same way. In an impractical world, love would be enough. In the reality of her complicated life, it wasn't.
"Oh, let me think. Because we work together. Because I have Sam, who on the best of days can't be called easy. And because I can't have any more kids."
He moved around the couch, determined, eyes soft, expression serious. CJ backed into a corner, her butt hitting the wall with a thump, knowing if he touched her, she'd cave.
"Why can't you have any more kids, baby?"
Swallowing hard, she stared at the collar of his jacket. She could smell his aftershave now, and his knee brushed against the skirt of her dress. "Because when my ex found out what was wrong with Sam, he insisted I get my tubes tied so we didn't have any more kids like Sam. I did because I wanted to save my marriage."
Wyatt swore, an ugly, nasty sound made all the worse because he whispered it. "That's why we didn't need to use a rubber."
CJ nodded. "This is just not going to work out, Wyatt."
Wyatt wished she would get it through her thick skull that he didn't care about anything but being with her.
"CJ, I'm not perfect, and I'm going to make mistakes, but we'll never know unless we try. I don't care that you can't have kids, and I'd love to meet your son, but only when you're ready." He took her hand, caressed it, felt her tremble. "It could be good between us."
Leaning in, he trapped her with his arms, breathing in the light floral scent she was wearing. "I promise."
She gave a little gasp when he kissed her ear, dipping his tongue inside her. He spanned her waist with his hand, bringing her closer to him.
"You know I hate you," she whispered.
He grinned against her soft skin. She always said that right before she kissed him.
"Whatever you want to call it." He pressed his advantage and took her mouth.
Her lips were soft, pliant, and he flicked along her bottom lip with his tongue until she groaned, then wrapped her arms around his neck. She opened for him, and he dipped inside to taste her, sighing against her sweetness. He gathered her into his arms, held her tight, never wanting to give her up.
"I love you," he whispered, brushing his lips along her jaw.
"Shit," she said, quite clearly.
She opened her mouth to elaborate when a cheerful voice called out, "Christine, do you have another pair of gloves for Sam? Oh! Sorry, I didn't know you had company."
CJ made a squawking sound and tried to move away from him. He tucked her into his side and turned around. A woman he assumed was CJ's mother stared at them in astonishment, before she recovered and pasted a smile on her face.
CJ continued to tug away from him, but he held her fast and smiled back at her mother. CJ may be strong and in great shape, but he had the advantage of height and determination.
"Hi, I'm Wyatt Maddock."
"Wyatt, how nice to meet you! I'm Judith Nolan, Christine's mother." She smiled at him and shot CJ a curious look.
"Christine?" Wyatt murmured to CJ, enjoying the pink staining her cheeks. "You said your name wasn't an abbreviation for anything."
"Do I really look like a Christine Judith?"
She had him there.
A boy walked in behind CJ's mom. He was bundled up in a winter coat and hat and he was peeling soaking wet mittens off. His nose was bright red, and his brown eyes were round with curiosity. "Who's that?" He pointed at Wyatt.
"Sam, say hi to Wyatt," CJ said.
"Hi," Sam said, clearly losing interest as his eyes darted around the room.
"Hi." Wyatt smiled at Sam and marveled that he could see CJ in Sam's features. CJ was a mother. Damn, that was sexy.
"Are these for me?" Sam dropped his mittens on the floor and walked over to the presents resting on the coffee table.
"Sam, your mittens don't belong on the floor. Pick them up, please," CJ said in a gentle voice he'd never heard from her.
A voice that convinced him he'd stand here all damn day until she admitted that they belonged together.
Sam stopped, backtracked, stuffed the mittens in his pockets, then went right back to the presents.
"One of them is. The round one. The other one is for your mom." Nervous, he turned to CJ and whispered. "I read about autism, and the books all said that they like simple, repetitive toys that won't frustrate them. I got him a ball. Is that okay? I guess that's kind of a stupid present for winter, isn't it?"
CJ stopped trying to get away from Wyatt and stared up at him, her eyes starting to sting. He had gotten her son a ball. He looked worried. He had read up on autism, even after she had walked out on him after tossing off some pretty cruel comments Saturday night.
"Yeah, that's okay." Everything was okay. Everything was right. She owed it to herself and she owed it to Wyatt to give their relationship a chance.
Any man who bought her son a ball and could give her an orgasm in a hot tub was a keeper.
"Thanks." Sam ran out the door, new red rubber ball in tow, and promptly tripped with a splat on the front step. The ball went rolling into the bushes. Sam stood up, adjusted his hat, and ran after the ball.
Her mom headed out after him. "It was nice meeting you, Wyatt. Have fun at the wedding, Christine."
"Cute kid," Wyatt said, turning to her, his thumb running over her wrist. "He looks like you."
"Thank you." CJ didn't know what to say, where to start. So she blurted out, "I probably love you, too. There, okay? I can't help it, you're just such a nice guy."
Wyatt grinned. "You say 'nice guy' like it's a bad thing."
"I always thought you were a smooth operator, you know, or maybe I just told myself that so I wouldn't fall for you." Too late on that one. "But I have and I'm sorry for all the things I said the other night. I get defensive sometimes."
"You think?" He brushed her hair back. "I love your hair loose like this. It's so pretty and soft. I know, you're one tough cookie, and you can take care of yourself, but that doesn't mean you have to freeze everybody out either. Or hide your body."
Damn, he did not want her to hide her body anymore. He liked the dress, but he'd prefer naked even better. Now that she had admitted her feelings for him and saved him from going gray with the stress of waiting, he wanted nothing more than to take her home and love her all night.
But she was a mother, with responsibilities, and couldn't just spend the night with him any time she felt like it. He had the feeling he was going to have to get creative with their sex life. That thought made him go hard in his jeans.
"I'm working on it," she said, her face muffled against his jacket.
"We'll work on it together. We'll take it slow, alright? And you let me know how much or how little I can be in Sam's life."
Her eyes searched his. "You don't mind that I can't have any more kids? At least not without an expensive reversal."
Maybe a little, but it wasn't important right now. Hoping to reassure her, he gave her a grin. "Hey, that way none of your personality traits will be passed on."
CJ didn't laugh at his joke. She pulled away from his chest. "Take a step back for me."
"Why?" He was comfortable where he was, with her snug in his arms.
"So I can beat the crap out of you," she said quite clearly.
He laughed. She was going to keep him hopping and he was looking forward to it. "I'm kidding. Kidding. Seriously, we'll cross that bridge if and when we get to it. I just want to be with you."
CJ studied his face for a second and decided he meant it. She kissed him and sighed. What more could she ask for? Wyatt understood her, when to tease and when to be serious, and he never backed down, and somehow she knew he had staying power. Beneath the charm and the grin, he was a man of his word.
"Sounds like a plan, Wyatt." She remembered the package on her couch. "Hey, that other gift is for me, right?"
"Nah, I changed my mind."
Wyatt was running his hands over her behind, squeezing her cheeks and making her panties grow moist. His mouth was kissing a path across the front of her dress, sucking her nipple through the slippery fabric.
"You can't change your mind." CJ ducked out from under his embrace and lunged for the present. "Nice wrap job, did you pay someone to do it?"
"I did it myself," he said as he caught hold of the other end and tugged it away from her.
"Give it back, Wyatt." CJ laughed and pulled harder.
"I love your laugh," he said, looking so besotted it was damn adorable. She tugged again, thinking he deserved a nice, grinding kiss.
Then Wyatt suddenly let go, and she stumbled backward. He grinned. "Gotcha, Christine."
She whacked him with the gift on his arm. "Don't call me that."
Disposing of the wrapping paper quickly and tossing it on the floor, she started to open the box.
"Wrapping paper doesn't belong on the floor, Christine."
"Very funny." She opened the box and found the black Band-Aid bra and panties nestled in tissue. "This isn't a gift. A pain in the ass isn't a gift, and these are about as comfortable."
He shrugged. "Once I fished them out of the hot tub, I had to do something with them. I slept with them the first two nights, then figured I might as well give them back to you. You look so good in black lace."
He looked like he was kidding, but you never knew. The thought of Wyatt snuggling up to her underwear was oddly satisfying.
"And as long as you wear the sexy underwear from time to time I'll never ask you to wear a dress again. And actually, I don't care what you're wearing, I just want you with me."
She pulled the bra up and dangled it in front of her. "It will be like our little slutty secret, me wearing sexy stuff under baggy sweaters."
His jeans looked a little tight, and his eyes had darkened. "I like the way you think."
"Of course, a dress once in a while isn't so bad."
"I'd especially like to see you in white."
Though her heart did some weird kind of gallop-jump thing in her chest, she was going to ignore that one for now. "Let's go get your tux and get to this wedding." She thumped him in the chest with the bra. "I'll go put this on first."
His answer was a groan. "Don't torture me."
"What? The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave. And as long as I'm home
by
He caught her by the arm and slid his lips across hers in a possessive kiss. "Maybe this time we'll actually make it to the bed."
She shivered and licked her lips in anticipation. "After the hot tub."
Wyatt smiled. "Now, that sounds perfect, Christine Judith."
That it did.
* * * * *