The Dare Affair: Summer In Savannah Anth. (Dynasties: The Danforths Book 6.5

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  “Sure.” He tucked the number in his shirt pocket. “Tonight.”

  “I will sit by the phone,” she purred, then waggled her fingers and walked off. She prayed that Kurt would keep his eyes on her as she strolled out of the police station. When she passed through the doors into the heat of the afternoon, the breath she’d been holding rushed out.

  She didn’t look back when she crossed the street, prayed that Nick would be right behind. Halfway down the block she felt his hand on her elbow. He pulled her off the sidewalk, across a patch of grass, then behind a large stone statue of an angel.

  She realized that they were in Colonial Cemetery. How appropriate, she thought, then whirled on him.

  “Are you crazy? What the hell were you doing in there?”

  “Me?” His eyes narrowed with anger, then he yanked the fake teeth out of his mouth and shoved them into his pocket. “What the hell were you doing coming on to Kurt like that? What would you have done if he’d made you?”

  “He was too interested in my cleavage to even look at my face. And he would have been more suspicious if I’d just walked away from him. Men like Kurt expect women to fall all over them.” Sophia felt her knees give out, and she sagged back against the statue. “All you had to do was walk out and I would have been right behind you. Why did you take a chance like that?”

  “I wasn’t about to leave you there with him. Dammit!” A muscle jumped in Nick’s jaw, then he sighed and leaned next to Sophia. “He shouldn’t have been here for another couple of hours. Something’s going on.”

  Having Nick beside her, his arm touching hers, calmed Sophia’s raging nerves. “What?”

  Nick pulled a small tape recorder and what looked like a hearing aid out of the waistband of his jeans. “Let’s see if we can listen in and find out.”

  While Sophia walked to a corner hot dog vendor, Nick settled on the grass with his equipment. He had the recorder ready to go and the earpiece hooked up by the time she got back. She handed him the bag of food and two bottles of water, then pulled off her heels with a sigh of pleasure and sat beside him in the shade of the statue. When she stretched out her long legs in front of her, his throat turned to dust.

  “A picnic in a cemetery.” She dug a hot dog out of the bag. “You’re quite the romantic, Sloane.”

  “Is that what you want?” He couldn’t resist her, couldn’t keep himself from touching her. He ran a fingertip up her bare arm to the knot of her halter top. “Romance?”

  She leaned into him, shivered when he slid his finger along the base of her neck. “Every woman wants flowers and candlelight. Maybe a little music. I’m no different.”

  He lifted a brow. “You’re different from any woman I’ve ever met.”

  “The situation is different, Nick.” She glanced away, stared across the cemetery at a young woman laying flowers on a grave. “Maybe that’s all this is between us. The situation.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “I don’t know what to think. I only know that when you went upstairs without me, I felt like I’d lost my lifeline. Then you were walking toward Kurt and—” She looked back at him and he saw the moisture in her eyes. “I wanted to hit you, I was so mad.”

  Not exactly what he’d expected her to say, but with Sophia, there was no predictability. He grinned at her. “You’re not the first woman who’s said that to me.”

  Shaking her head, she smiled. “I’m sure I’m not.”

  “But it is the first time it’s meant something.” He cupped her chin in his hand. “The first time it’s really mattered.”

  They stared at each other, understood the line they’d stepped over. Knew that there was no going back.

  He moved toward her, lowered his mouth to hers, then snapped his head back up at the sound of a phone ringing in his ear.

  “Matthews.”

  “You were supposed to be in my office an hour ago. I want to know what the hell is going on and I want to know now!”

  “Who is it?” Sophia was practically climbing in his lap, a pleasant distraction, but a distraction just the same. He pressed his hand to his ear and listened.

  “Captain Emmet. Shh.”

  “I told you—” Kurt lowered his voice “—I’ve got it under control.”

  “The hell you do,” Emmet yelled. “My ass and yours are on the line here, dammit. Get this resolved now!”

  “Yes, sir. Consider it resolved.”

  When Emmet slammed down the phone, Nick swore.

  “What?” Sophia grabbed his arm. “What is it? What did they say?”

  “Nothing that proves anything.” Or disproved anything, he thought. “Just that Emmet wants something resolved.”

  “Do you think your captain’s involved?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “There’s no love between us, but it’s still tough to swallow that he’s part of smuggling drugs. Until I have proof, I—we—can’t go in.”

  “God.” She closed her eyes. “I’m tired.”

  “It’ll be over soon,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to let—” He stopped, pressed his hand to his ear again. “There’s another call coming in.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Iris, Emmet’s secretary…” He listened for a minute then said, “She wants to know what time they’re on for tonight. She says she’s got a present for him.”

  “So he was hoping for an afternoon quickie with me and a hot night with Iris, too.” Sophia shook her head in disgust. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Nick listened until Iris hung up, then frowned. “He’s making a lot of dates for a man who should be worried about being exposed as a drug smuggler and murderer. That tells me he thinks he’s covered his tracks pretty well.”

  “Thanks for sharing that little bit of uplifting information. I’ll just sleep so much better tonight.”

  “You’ll sleep tonight,” he said, then pulled her close and kissed her hard. “We both will. That’s a promise.”

  With a sigh she laid her hand on his waist as if to steady herself. Her eyes widened and she glanced down. “Gosh, Nick, is that a gun in your pants or are you just happy to see me?”

  “Just in case we need it.” His sober expression shifted into a smile. “It’s a gun, but I’m happy to see you, too.”

  “Maybe we should stop by the drugstore on the way back to the boat.” She ran a fingertip down his chest. “Just in case.”

  He dropped a kiss on her lips and murmured, “My thoughts exactly.”

  It was dark by the time they got to the Savannah Sweetheart. Sophia headed straight for her room, stripped off her wig and outfit, then stepped into the shower. After sitting on the grass in the heat and humidity all afternoon, Lord knew she needed it.

  With a sigh, she turned the spray on and lathered off the day’s grime and perspiration. The hot water eased the tension and frustration of the long day, and the muscles knotting her neck and shoulders slowly relaxed. It seemed like years since she and Nick had left the boat this morning, a lifetime since she’d stepped out into that dark alley.

  Fighting the threatening tears, she dumped shampoo on her wet hair and scrubbed at her scalp.

  Other than the phone call from Nick’s captain to Kurt, they’d come up with a big, fat zero. There’d been a few other calls that had come into Kurt’s office phone, but nothing that suggested collusion from anyone else in the department. The only good thing they’d come away with today was the fact that Nick had a gun and more cash.

  As much as Sophia hated guns, she had to admit, she felt just a little bit safer now.

  She lingered a while longer, but when her skin started to wrinkle, she turned off the water and stepped out of the tiny shower. After she’d dried off and tugged a comb through her hair, she rooted through her gym bag for the extra pair of shorts and T-shirt she always carried, then pulled them on.

  Now all she needed was something in her stomach. On the way back to the boat, she and Nick had stopped at a deli and
brought back sandwiches, but they hadn’t eaten anything since the hot dogs for lunch.

  With her mind on a turkey sub, Sophia stepped out of the bathroom.

  And gasped.

  Chapter 7

  A white votive candle flickered on the nightstand, another on the floor at the foot of the bed. Light rippled across the room. Sophia lifted her gaze to Nick, who stood, arms folded, leaning back against the deckside door. He wore the same jeans he’d had on earlier and a black T-shirt they’d bought on the waterfront this afternoon. He was barefoot, his hair still wet from his shower, his face freshly shaved.

  “What’s this?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice calm.

  He shrugged. “I found them in a drawer in the galley.”

  And you brought them up here. To me. She pressed a hand to the flutter in her stomach. Careful, she warned herself. Don’t make too much of this.

  But then she spotted a red plastic rose on the bed, and the flutter in her stomach moved up to her heart.

  It was that moment, that very instant, she knew she was in love.

  Swallowing the thickness in her throat, she moved toward him. “And the rose?”

  “That was in the prop room.”

  She stopped in front of him, bare toes to bare toes, and lifted her face to his. Her entire world had turned upside down and gone crazy, but this, being with Nick, was the only thing that felt right to her. The only thing that felt sane.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “It’s beautiful.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Men had told her that before, but the words had never mattered. Her looks had nothing to do with who she was inside, what she felt or what she thought. But hearing Nick say the words, watching his eyes darken with desire, thrilled her. For him, she wanted to be beautiful; she wanted to be everything he’d ever wanted and more. There were no pretenses, no games here between them. She felt vulnerable, and for the first time in her life she would give herself completely to a man. If there was pain later, so be it.

  “Your shoulder?” she asked.

  “My shoulder is fine.”

  Keeping her eyes level with his, she reached for the hem of her T-shirt, lifted it over her head and dropped it to the floor. Her pulse skipped when he looked at her.

  On a shuddering breath, he reached for her, slid his arms around her waist and dragged her to him. Her arms came around him, and he dropped his mouth on hers. He tasted like mint, smelled like soap and man, and she couldn’t get close enough. His chest was hard against her softness, and even the thin cotton fabric separating them was too much.

  His hands slid down from her waist to cup her behind and pull her closer, more intimately against his hardness. She moved against him, felt the deep rumble in his throat, a half moan, half growl.

  He yanked his mouth from hers. “You keep doing that and this is going to be over quickly.”

  She slid her hands back down his chest, then yanked his shirt upward. “Good. We’ve got time for slow later.”

  She’d already waited too long for this man. A lifetime. Every minute was precious to her, every second.

  When bare skin met bare skin, she moaned. Her breasts tightened and ached to be touched, and when he brought his hands around to do just that, she moaned again.

  As one, they moved backward to the bed, tearing at their clothes, stumbling over each other. Her skin was on fire, her blood rushing, every nerve ending deliciously sensitive to every stroke of his large, callused hands.

  By the time they tumbled onto the mattress, they were both naked, both breathing hard.

  “Now,” he said raggedly, then rolled her underneath him and entered her. “Now.”

  “Hurry.” She arched upward to meet him. “Please, hurry.”

  There was nothing gentle about their joining, nor did she want there to be. They strained against each other, her nails digging into the rippling muscles of his broad back, his hands clamped tightly on to her hips as he drove himself into her again and again.

  Desperate, wild, mindless, they raced to the finish line together, reached it at the same time. The climax exploded through her and she cried out, wrapping herself more tightly around Nick. His moan was harsh and guttural, his shudders cresting with hers.

  There were aftershocks, little ripples of pleasure still coursing through her even after he collapsed on top of her. Closing her eyes, she let her arms drop, felt like a cork on the ocean, bobbing and floating, letting the current take her where it would.

  When he finally moved, she protested, but was too helpless to stop him. He rolled to his back, bringing her on top of him.

  “Nice,” she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “Nice?” He frowned at her. “Just nice?”

  She snuggled into the crook of his arm. “I meant lying here like this. I can’t think of a word to describe everything else.”

  “How ’bout amazing?” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Incredible. Unbelievable.”

  “Definitely unbelievable,” she agreed. When he stroked his hand lightly over her head, it seemed as if even her hair had feeling. She crossed her arms on his chest and looked down at him. “But I guess that pretty much fits into our lives at the moment.”

  “You think?”

  “Nick, this—” she dropped her gaze “—nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”

  “You’ve never been shot at, framed for drug smuggling, then barely escaped in a speeding car?” He looked at her with surprise. “What a sheltered life you’ve led.”

  His sarcasm earned him a smile and a pinch on his chest. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah.” He ran a fingertip along her jaw, then lifted her chin. “I know what you mean.”

  He didn’t know how to say it, that he’d never felt so…connected, with any person before. He’d never been good with words, didn’t know the right ones, and even if he did, wouldn’t know how to use them. Instead he lifted his mouth to hers and kissed her, a mere brush of his lips against hers, yet so much more.

  When he laid his head back down, she dropped her chin on her crossed arms and smiled down at him. “And for the record, I did lead a sheltered life. My father had the eyes of a hawk, the nose of a bloodhound, and I swear he was psychic. When I was growing up, it was nearly impossible for my sisters or me to pull anything past that man.”

  “If I had daughters, I’d do the same.”

  “Do you have any?” she asked quietly.

  “Kids?” He shook his head. “I’ve never been married.”

  “You don’t have to be married to have kids.”

  “I do.”

  She ran a fingertip across his collarbone. “An honorable man.”

  “Realistic.” He loved the way her breath caught when he brushed his hands along the sides of her breasts. “It’s tough on a kid to just have one parent.”

  “I’m sorry about your mom,” Sophia said softly.

  “Don’t feel sorry for me.” Lifting his head, he kissed her nose. “I had it a hell of a lot easier than most kids with one parent. And what about you? How come you aren’t married to some wealthy doctor or lawyer, living the life of luxury, with 2.3 kids in the back seat of an SUV?”

  “I thought about it once,” she admitted. “I was twenty-three. He was a stock broker. Very successful, very handsome.”

  “Is that so?” Jealousy, unexpected and sharp, reared its ugly green head. “What happened?”

  “It was too easy.” She rolled a shoulder. “Even my father liked him, which was unheard of. But I realized that I was in love with the idea of being in love. Once that faded, there was nothing else there.”

  “Good.” He moved his hands down her sides and cupped her bottom, laying claim. He realized how quickly everything was moving between them, was surprised that it didn’t bother him in the least.

  Even making love had moved too fast, he thought. They’d both wanted—needed—it to be that way. The next time will be slow, he told himself, th
en slid his hands up her back and through her hair. He wrapped his fingers around the still-damp strands.

  “I won’t be easy, Sophia,” he said roughly.

  “I won’t be, either.”

  He tugged her mouth to his. “We’ll see about that.”

  She held his gaze in a challenge, then they met each other halfway. Instantly the kiss turned greedy. Thoughts of moving slow and taking his time flew out of Nick’s brain. Sophia’s hands and mouth seemed to be everywhere at once. His heart slammed against his ribs; his blood burned.

  When she lifted her hips, then dropped back down and took him inside her, they both moaned. Candlelight rippled over her pale, smooth skin. Her lips were parted, her eyes half-closed as she moved, setting a pace that drove him wild. He reared up, desperately needing his hands on her breasts. Her nipples hardened when he took her inside his mouth and sucked. She gasped, lost her rhythm for a moment, then quickly found it again. He moved to her other breast, gave it the same attention, bringing them both closer to the edge.

  “Nick—”

  Clutching his shoulders, she cried out. They held each other, shuddering, then sank back onto the mattress, hearts beating wildly.

  He gathered her close, pressed his lips to her temple, listened until her breathing steadied and she drifted to sleep.

  He no longer cared what happened to himself. His only need was to protect this woman in his arms. He glanced at the gun on the nightstand, knew without hesitation, without question, that he would do whatever he had to do to keep her safe.

  Chapter 8

  Sophia dreamed of tropical islands, clear, aqua-blue water and soft, warm sand. While an ocean breeze skimmed over her bikini-clad body, gentle waves crashed on the nearby shore. Lying on a towel, not a care in the world, she stretched out on her stomach under the shade of a tall palm tree and sighed with contentment. Nick sat beside her, rubbing suntan lotion on her back while he murmured sweet nothings in her ear. She could lie here like this with him forever, no place to be, not a care in the world, not a single—