by Julie James
Granted, it had been a long time since she’d done this, but if memory served, Rylann was supposed to be feeling jitters of excitement right about that very moment. Then again, she was thirty-two now—maybe the butterflies in her stomach were taking a more cerebral, mature approach to the dating game and waiting to see how things developed.
A male voice spoke from behind her and Rae.
“Ladies, it seems that I owe you an apology.”
Rylann turned and saw a man, wearing a suit, who was in his early- to midthirties and had wavy sandy-brown hair.
He smiled in introduction at both her and Rae. “Gavin Dexter—call me Dex. I own the place. It’s come to my attention that you’ve been waiting awhile for your drinks. To make up for that, I’d like to invite both of you to the VIP lounge. I even took the liberty of reserving a table for you.”
Rae looked at her with a raised eyebrow, and then turned back to Dex. “That sounds great. Thank you.”
He gestured toward a staircase. “Perfect. Follow me.”
When he turned his back, Rae leaned in toward Rylann and chuckled under her breath. “We must look even better than I thought tonight.”
They followed Dex up the stairs and past a bouncer who guarded the door of the VIP room. Once inside, Dex led them through the crowd to a private, sable suede booth in the back of the room that was enclosed by a red velvet curtain on three sides.
After Rylann and Rae settled into the booth, Dex held out his hands magnanimously. “How about some champagne to start? Anything you ladies want. Your tab for the evening has been taken care of.”
Rylann looked at him quizzically. She was flattered, but this was getting a little odd. “By who?”
A familiar teasing voice answered her.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you ask too many questions, counselor?”
Rylann looked to her right and saw Kyle walking over, looking unbelievably handsome in his gray suit and tieless black shirt with the top button undone. And just like the night she’d met him, she felt it—instant butterflies.
So much for taking the cerebral approach.
“It’s an occupational hazard,” she told him.
“So I’ve seen firsthand.” Without missing a beat, Kyle made the introductions. “Dex, this is Rylann Pierce and Rae…” he paused, prompting her for her last name.
“Mendoza,” she said.
Dex smiled at Rae, then turned to Rylann with a curious expression. “Oh, Ry-linn,” he said, pronouncing her name. “I’d been saying it wrong after I saw the picture of you and Kyle in the paper.” He cocked his head. “Not a very common name, is it?”
“It’s Irish. I was named after my grandfather,” she explained. As the story was told, her mother had been very insistent upon the name, and her father, who had no particular allegiance to his Welsh heritage, had gone along with it.
Still, Dex looked intrigued. “By any chance did you go to Illinois law school?”
Rylann pointed to Rae. “We both did. Why?”
Dex rocked back on his heels and laughed. “Holy shit, I should’ve caught that earlier. You’re the chicken wings girl.”
It took Rylann a second, then she remembered her conversation with Kyle the night they’d met.
I don’t mind hot and spicy. Actually find that appealing in a girl. And chicken wings.
With a laugh, she looked at Kyle. “You told him that story?”
Dex slapped Kyle’s back. “Sure he did. I was working at the Clybourne that night, and Kyle here was grinning like a fool when he got back after walking you home. Hell, I half-expected him to burst into a song and dance number.”
Kyle cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. “I…think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.” He grabbed Dex’s shoulder and squeezed hard. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be, buddy? Full club, busy night—really, we’d hate to keep you.”
Rae waved a finger at them. “Hold on, someone better tell me the chicken wings story.”
Dex looked at Kyle, who looked at Rylann.
She said nothing for a moment. Then she slid over in the booth, making room next to her. “That was one of your gems—might as well be you,” she said to Kyle.
He looked surprised by the invitation, then his eyes turned a warm, deep blue. Without a word, he took a seat in the booth next to her. In the background, Rylann heard Rae and Dex begin chatting about the drink menu. But as she held Kyle’s gaze, all other voices faded away.
“Oh, now you want to be nice,” he said in a teasing voice.
Rylann smiled, her answer the same as it had been nine years ago. “I’m considering it.”
IF THE CIRCUMSTANCES had been different—and there’d been no “situation” between them—Kyle would’ve said he was on the best first date of his life.
He had a smart, funny, gorgeous woman next to him, and they’d been talking, just the two of them, for over an hour. Rae had disappeared to talk to some guy at the bar, and since then Rylann had been cracking him up with stories about a few very memorable cases she’d prosecuted—including one, from her first year on the job, about some genius who’d stuck a hair dryer in his jacket and pretended it was a gun, then tried to rob a bank with the power cord dangling between his legs.
The drinks were flowing, and the ambience was perfect—soft candlelight on the table between them, the velvet curtain secluding them on three sides. They were sitting close to each other in the booth, which gave Kyle the perfect vantage point to stare at…well, everything. Her full, lush mouth as she told her courtroom stories and sipped her wine. Her long, slender legs that were crossed in his direction. The creamy skin of her shoulders, with an adorable scattering of freckles he wanted to trace his tongue over. And that V neckline…hell, that was cruel and unusual punishment. Being a good nine inches taller than Rylann, he could see a lot from where he was sitting, and all he could think about was pulling down the straps of her dress and getting his mouth on those luscious breasts.
And…apparently, from the way she’d paused expectantly, she’d just asked him a question.
Oops.
Kyle quickly covered, pointing to his ear. “Sorry. I couldn’t hear you with all the noise from the bar.”
“Oh.” Rylann scooted in a little closer, so that her thigh brushed against his.
Kill me now.
“I just asked what plans you have, now that you’re no longer working for Rhodes Corporation,” she said. “I feel like I’ve been talking this entire time.”
He tried to focus. Christ, she smelled good—some light, citrusy perfume, or maybe it was her shampoo. He wanted to bury his face in that incredible dark hair to find out.
Get it together, asshole. Remember the “situation.”
“I’ve got some things in the hopper,” he said vaguely in response to her question. He wasn’t ready to share details about his start-up company yet—not until things were more certain.
She raised an eyebrow. “Legal things, I hope?”
Cute. “Yes, legal things, counselor,” he said. “Trust me, if I never see the inside of a courtroom again, it’ll be too soon.” Then he remembered. “Except for the Quinn case, obviously.”
“Right.” Rylann looked down at her wineglass, as if thinking something over. Then she looked up at him sideways, with a gaze that seemed a bit more…interested. “Why did you send Dex out to get me and Rae?”
The moment of truth.
Kyle knew he could follow their standard code of conduct and answer her with some dry quip, or joke, or sarcastic comment. But something about the ambience and the way she looked—and, more important, the way she was looking at him right then—made him want to forego the usual games. So instead, he held her gaze directly. “Because nine years ago, I walked up to the most beautiful girl in the bar, and tonight she’s still the only person I want to talk to.”
Her eyes widened at his words, and he waited for her to say something, anything, that would let him know that he wasn’t the only one feeling
this way tonight. But instead, she turned back to her wineglass and toyed with the stem.
“There is something we should probably talk about,” she said. “I was in court today.”
Court. Kyle pulled back and shook his head in disbelief. Here he was, putting himself out there, and still all she wanted to talk about was work. “Really,” he said dryly.
“It was actually a fairly routine matter,” she continued. “But since you’ve been involved in the case, I thought you might be interested in knowing that Quinn pled guilty this morning. To voluntary manslaughter and conspiracy to violate a prisoner’s civil rights.”
Kyle went still. “What does that mean?”
Her eyes sparkled coyly. “Voluntary manslaughter? It’s a type of homicide where there’s no prior intent to kil—”
He put his hand over her mouth, cutting off the sass right quick. “What does it mean?” he repeated in a low voice. When he took his hand away, he saw the edges of her lips curving up in a smile.
“It means you’re no longer my witness. There’ll be a sentencing hearing, but for all intents and purposes, the case is over.”
That was all Kyle needed to hear.
He threaded his fingers through her hair and gently cupped her neck. No more games. “You didn’t have to tell me that tonight.”
She held his gaze unwaveringly. “No, I didn’t.”
An admission that spoke volumes. Kyle ran his thumb possessively along her lower lip, his voice a soft growl.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Twenty
RYLANN KNEW, FROM the look in Kyle’s eyes, exactly what would happen if she left the bar with him. His hot, smoky-blue gaze made it perfectly clear.
Sitting in that booth, she could think of a hundred reasons to say no to him. And only one reason to say yes.
Because, simply, she wanted to.
She always did the right thing. And from a rational perspective, doing the right thing would mean getting up and walking away from Kyle and the wicked promise of his words. But he was sinfully attractive, intelligent, and witty, and it had been a long time since she had done anything that felt this…breathtakingly exciting. If ever.
“I need to say good-bye to Rae,” she told Kyle.
And here she’d thought the look in his eyes had been hot before.
He brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her fingers. “Meet me at the bottom of the staircase. I’ll tell Dex I’m leaving.”
After he slid out of the booth and walked away, Rylann took a deep breath, needing a moment to steady herself. This so was not something she normally did—left bars with playboy billionaire heir ex-cons. Still, although it felt a little wild, it also felt good. And for tonight, that was enough.
She grabbed her purse, climbed out of the booth, and walked over to the bar to talk to Rae.
“My God, it’s about time,” Rae said after Rylann explained who she was leaving with. “For a while there, I thought it was going to take another nine years.”
“You’re okay catching a cab?” Rylann asked.
“Of course. Go.” Rae threw her a knowing grin. “Have fun.”
Well, yes…that was the plan. Then Rylann corrected that thought, smiling secretly to herself as she left the VIP room. Nope, no plans tonight. Until sunrise, she was officially winging it. Being spontaneous. Crazy, even.
Assuming she didn’t have a panic attack in about two seconds at the thought.
She descended the staircase that led to the bar’s main level and saw Kyle standing at the bottom, waiting for her. His eyes never left hers as she approached, and when she got to the last step, he held out his hand.
“Ready?” he asked. Despite the heat in his gaze, the devilish grin at the corners of his mouth was comfortingly familiar. Once upon a time, this man had made her heart skip with just a kiss—now it was time to finally see what other tricks he had up his sleeve.
Rylann slid her hand into his. “Yes.”
The crowd in the main level of the club was thick, and the driving beat of a fast, techno-pop song pumped through the speakers as Kyle led her through the mass of bodies. About halfway to the door, he began tracing slow circles over her fingers with his thumb. A warm flush spread over her body—such a simple touch, but one that turned her on nevertheless. So much so that she barely felt the cool breeze of the nighttime air when they stepped through the nightclub’s doors.
“We can catch a cab at the corner,” Kyle said in a thick voice.
Walking briskly, he led her toward the nearest intersection. They passed an alley about fifty feet before the corner, and without any warning, he gripped her hand tighter and pulled her in. Rylann knew exactly what was coming, and—God, yes—she was ready for it, so she wrapped her arms around his neck just as he pushed her against the brick wall, and his mouth came down hungrily on hers.
His lips parted hers demandingly, his long, muscular body pinning hers against the wall. His tongue claimed hers in hot, possessive sweeps as he held her chin firmly and took her mouth, again and again, until she was breathless.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment you walked into the courtroom that morning,” he said, breathing heavily, when he finally pulled back. Then he took her hand in his again, quickly led her out of the alley, and flagged down a cab at the street corner.
When the taxi pulled to a stop in front of them, Kyle opened the door, and they both climbed in. He gave the driver the address of his penthouse, and since that was closer than Rylann’s apartment, she didn’t argue. A short five minutes later, they arrived at Kyle’s building, the taxi barely coming to a stop before he shoved a twenty-dollar bill at the driver and stepped out. He held out his hand, helping Rylann out of the cab, and then ushered her through the revolving doors.
Kyle nodded at the doorman and took her to the elevators. As soon as they stepped inside—alone—and the doors shut behind them, he backed her up against the wall and kissed her again, hot and hard. A few moments later, Rylann heard the ding of the elevator, and then she and Kyle were stumbling out, making their way to his front door. She threaded her fingers through his hair as he worked the lock with one hand, then with a groan he wrapped his arm around her waist and pushed the door open.
After slamming the door behind them, Kyle took her purse and tossed it to the floor. His keys followed, then he wrapped his arms around her waist, once again claiming her mouth as he led her through the penthouse.
When they finally came up for air, Rylann saw they were in the doorway of his bedroom. The decor was modern and masculine, but not overly so. Two light suede armchairs sat in one corner, flanking a heavy mahogany end table. A huge plasma television was mounted on the wall in front of the chairs, and on the opposite end of the room was a king-sized bed covered with several oversized pillows.
Kyle pressed her against the door, drawing her attention back to him, and swept his tongue over hers. When she moaned and arched instinctively against him, he pulled back, his eyes dark and smoky. “You’re sure this is what you want?”
She tangled her fingers in his hair. “I’m sure.”
“Good.” He took her hands and led her into the bedroom with a daring glint in his eyes. “Then show me.” He walked to one of the armchairs, released her hands, and took a seat. He waited expectantly, looking every bit the multimillionaire used to being in charge. “Start with the dress.”
Oh, really? Rylann cocked her head. “You take it off me if you want to see what’s underneath.”
He shook his head slowly. “Sorry, counselor, but this isn’t the grand jury room. I’m making the rules tonight.”
Thank God she still had her dress on; otherwise, Smug Dimples would’ve seen her nipples go instantly hard right then.
Playing it cool, she stepped between his legs, then reached back and unzipped her dress. While holding his gaze, she slipped one strap over her shoulder, then the other. Then, ever so slowly, she slid the fabric over the cups of her strapless bra, past he
r stomach, and over her hips and let it fall to the floor at her feet.
Kyle’s eyes burned a path over every inch of her, taking in her ivory silk bra and matching panties. “You are so fucking beautiful, Rylann.” His gaze fell to her bra. “Now let me see those breasts you’ve been teasing me with all night.”
“If you insist.” With a slight smile, she reached back and unhooked the clasp of her bra. She eased the cups off her breasts, and then dropped the bra onto the floor, next to her dress.
Kyle said nothing for a moment, just looking at her. Then he beckoned with his hand. “Come here.”
She shook her head. “I’m not finished yet.”
“Come here anyway.”
She kicked off her heels and straddled his lap, settling his thick erection between her legs.
His jaw twitched as he gazed at her through hooded eyes. “Kiss me.”
Feeling slightly scandalous—but also very sexy—being nearly naked while he was still fully dressed, Rylann leaned forward and took her time, nibbling his lower lip with her teeth before lightly brushing her tongue along his. When he tried to deepen the kiss, she pulled back and teased him with her lips, hearing a low rumble in his chest.
“Good-girl prosecutors shouldn’t tease a man who’s been in prison,” he warned in a low voice.
She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “I thought we’d already established that I’m not going to be a good girl tonight.”
She smiled slyly when she felt his erection twitch between her legs—then bit back a gasp when his hands slid to her breasts.
“Let’s find out what bad-girl prosecutors like, then.” He brushed his thumbs across her taut, sensitive nipples in a slow, maddening pace. She closed her eyes and exhaled unsteadily, then moaned moments later when his mouth replaced his hands.
“Kyle…” She tangled her fingers in his hair, arching back as his tongue licked one nipple and then the other, turning them into stiff, aching peaks.
“I’m going to make you feel so damn good tonight, baby,” he murmured. As if to prove just that, he teased her breasts with his lips, teeth, and tongue until she began rocking gently in his lap, needing more.
