by Donna Fasano
Now it was her turn to nod.
"I can do it," he told her.
Maggie had to smile when she heard the confidence returning to his voice. Reece was at his best when he was feeling in control. She understood that perfectly.
Then, his voice lowered, and his eyes intensified. "Will you allow me to apologize," he said, "about the other night?"
Chapter 7
"Please, Maggie. Don't shut me out. I need you to listen to me."
He wanted to talk about the night of the stakeout. She had known this was coming. Had known they needed to talk. She hadn't been ready before now. She'd been too incensed by the way he'd jumped to such idiotic conclusions about her. About her work.
Who are you kidding? her brain railed. You've refused to talk about that night—you used anger as an excuse—because you haven't been able to come to grips with the passion this man stirred in you.
"Please, Maggie," he repeated.
He evidently took her silence as permission to continue, and she didn't stop him.
"I thought the worst of you, Maggie. I actually believed that low-life when he said you'd talked his wife into leaving him." He pressed his lips together in self-censure. "Can you forgive me?" A smile hitched up one corner of his mouth. "I'm not sure I deserve it. But I can tell you that I've developed a new respect for what you do." His expression grew serious. "You help the women who hire you. When they can find help nowhere else. You put your heart and soul into your job. I know that now."
Maggie was helpless against the grin that pulled at her lips. "You learned all that from one stakeout?"
He feigned insult. "I've only been on one stakeout, that's true. But the things you told me today in the diner—your motivation for becoming a PI—explained a lot about who you are. And what you stand for."
"Well..." She yielded with a shrug. He was complimenting her. Why was that so hard for her to accept?
The area at the rear of the basement in which they stood seemed to grow crowded. Then Maggie realized that was because Reece had moved closer to her. The look in his eyes intensified even more. His mysterious expression caused her heart to trip in her chest.
"There's something else that's been keeping me up nights."
There was a smoky quality in his voice, a sweltering sensuousness that heated her blood and started it churning through her veins, as fever inducing as hundred-year-old whiskey.
"Oh?"
"Mmm-hmm. You. And my memories of that kiss we shared."
He inched even closer—close enough that she felt his velvety breath brush across her cheek. A delicious shiver coursed down her spine, and she felt tiny goose-flesh rise along her arms.
He smelled so good. Warm and mysteriously delicious.
But wait. She wasn't looking to get involved here. And she'd told him that the night of the stakeout. He, too, had said he wasn't interested in a relationship. That kiss had been a mistake. A mistake!
Without allowing herself to debate the issue, she took a big step backward. Her thighs and buttocks came into direct contact with the dryer.
"Oh," he said, shaking his head and continuing toward her, "I may have made a mistake that night—"
Dear Lord, she must have murmured her opinion aloud.
"And I've apologized for that. But you'll never get me to agree that that kiss was a mistake. Never."
His voice was silky sweet, like warm honey, and hearing it made her mouth go dry. Falling into his arms would be an easy thing to do. All it would take was for her to lean forward. Reece would do the rest.
Absently, she slid her tongue slowly along her bottom lip to moisten it. She watched his gaze become riveted to her mouth, and he followed the arduous trek of her tongue along her lip.
Desire, hot and thick, sparked in his dark eyes, making them twinkle and glisten in the dim light thrown by the low-wattage overhead bulb. He stepped toward her.
"Wait." She stopped him with one upraised palm, panic welling inside her. "We both said we weren't looking for a relationship. Didn't we both agree that we needed to… to ignore this... this—" she shook her head in frustration "—whatever this is?"
He continued forward, easily brushing past the barrier of her hand, until once again his face was scant inches from hers.
Her palm flat against his chest, she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye, so she simply watched helplessly as her fingers spread themselves on his shirtfront. The heat of him nearly singed the sensitive indentation in the very center of her palm.
"I told you before, Maggie," he said, his tone a mere whisper against her ear. "It's called attraction. In the most basic sense of the word. And it's foolish to ignore it. Foolish. I want you, Maggie. I want you bad."
"Oooh... but..." Her breathless protest was weak, even to her own ears. She wanted him, too. She wanted him so much the need was driving her to the brink.
"If I don't taste your lips, I'm going to go insane."
Reece leaned forward, and Maggie's breath snagged in her throat. And then he did the most extraordinary thing.
He smelled her.
With his nose pressed lightly against her hair, he inhaled slowly, deeply. And Maggie found the act so utterly sensual, so intimate, that her knees actually went weak. She pressed the small of her back against the clothes dryer and relaxed, only barely conscious of the warmth and slow, rhythmic vibration caused by the dryer's rotating drum.
"So, how about it, huh?" His question was husky with pent-up passion. "Let's just give in to this attraction. Let's just have one good make-out session right here, right now, and get this thing out of our systems."
Maggie hadn't heard a word he'd said—he could have been belting out the national anthem, for all she knew—because the whole while he'd been speaking, his hands had been caressing her upper arms, sliding along her back. His touch ignited a fierce hunger in her. Her splayed fingers curled, capturing a handful of his shirt in their grasp, and she tugged him closer to her. If she didn't feel his mouth on hers this instant, she would absolutely lose her mind.
"Let's just—"
"Would you shut up and kiss me," she murmured urgently, and reaching up to cradle his face between her hands, she brought his lips to hers.
* * *
Her mouth tasted wild and sweet, like juicy, sun-warmed peaches that had just been plucked from a tree branch. She tasted wilder, sweeter than she had in the sizzling, erotic dreams that had tortured him in the darkest hours of the night, and his blood throbbed, thick, through his veins.
Their first kiss had been an appealing appetizer. A delicious teaser that had sparked him to wonder, to dream of what was to come. Reece was ready for the main course.
Running his tongue lightly across the nectar-sweet lips, he heard her moan softly. The sound was like liquid fuel added to the already-blazing desire that burned deep in his gut.
He slid his fingers along her graceful, milk white neck until his palm rested flat against her silken flesh and the curve of her jaw fit firmly in the vee between his thumb and index finger. Then, with deliberate slowness, he once again skimmed her lips with his tongue—and again, she emitted a breathy moan. Given the strategic location of his fingertips and palm, he savored the sexy purr emanating from deep in her throat. The sound of it, the feel of it, was enough to make him want to let out a groan of his own... but he repressed the reaction.
He leaned back to take a quick glance at her beautiful face. Her eyes were closed, her lashes fanning her fair, delicate skin. He knew her catlike green eyes could spit fire when she was angry; he'd seen it for himself. He'd also seen them grow gentle with deep concern. Helplessly now, he waited for her to open her eyes. He wanted to see her clear, green irises fill with desire—desire for him.
It only took one still second for her eyelids to raise.
The all-consuming passion reflected in her vivid gaze caused his breath to stick.
He barely had time to groan her name before he crushed his lips against hers. Her mouth parted, and R
eece seized the opportunity to explore.
Her fingers wove themselves, none too gently, through his hair, and he pressed his body closer to hers. He slid his hand across her back, the fabric of her silk blouse gossamer soft against his fingertips.
The dance of their tongues held not a trace of shyness and only a shred of restraint. Having had only the barest taste of her before this moment, Reece had thought he'd surely go crazy from the deprivation and wanting. Now, as he was kissing the honey sweetness of her mouth, holding her soft, feminine body in his arms, he knew he was standing on the very precipice of madness. One step, and he could easily fall into the sensuous void that beckoned.
"Reece."
Her voice was a fervent, breathy whisper against his mouth as she tugged frantically at the material of his shirt. He looked down and marveled at the fact that she'd somehow managed to unfasten the buttons without his even realizing it.
"I want to see you. I need to touch you." Her voice was husky as she pulled the tails of his shirt from the waistband of his trousers. She didn't take the time to remove the shirt from his shoulders altogether; she only pushed the fabric aside.
Maggie's warm fingers trailed a fiery path down his chest, and when the soft pads of her fingertips swept over his nipples, his involuntary inhalation was short and sharp. He closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her touch as she curled her fingers and lightly dragged her nails across the shallow hills and valleys of his abdominal muscles. She hesitated when she reached the waistband of his pants, but then she switched direction, running her flattened palms around his middle to his back.
He looked down into her face, and she seemed happy that her touch pleased him. The small smile he gave her conveyed just how satisfying he found the feel of her skin against his.
Reece kissed her then, with as much control as he could muster. He kissed her mouth, her cheek, her jaw, her neck. And when he planted his lips on one particular spot just behind her ear, he was rewarded with her sweet, soft groan.
Planting his hands on either side of her ribs, he lifted her until she was sitting on the edge of the dryer. Instinctively, she spread her knees, her short denim skirt riding high on her thighs, and she hugged him to her.
The heat radiating from the very center of her femininity penetrated the fabric at the front of his trousers. The desire he felt already had him hard, but when she pulled him even closer, he thought he'd explode with the fierce wanting that surged through him.
As he kissed her lips, he worked the buttons of her blouse and finally he slipped the soft, filmy material from her body. The sight of so much pale skin was nearly his undoing. He noticed that her green gaze was intense, and her chest rose and fell as her breathing quickened. Her cream-colored bra was a lacy scrap of fabric that, with one quick twist of his fingers, was soon discarded.
Her breasts were luscious ivory mounds that fit in his palms as if they were made just for him. The weight of them felt good, felt right, in his hands, and he stared openly. Bending his head, he kissed the creamy flesh high on one breast and then looked up at Maggie's face.
Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. She looked filled with tension, yet at the same time she seemed completely relaxed in the throes of the passion he ignited in her. He was totally overwhelmed by the idea that he elicited this emotion from her. His touch, his kiss, was evoking this erotically sensuous response.
He trailed a fiery path of kisses from the swell of one breast to her shoulder, up along her neck and jaw, to her mouth. With one hand, he gently massaged her breast, while the other skidded down the satiny skin of her stomach, over the rougher texture of her denim skirt to the velvety flesh of her bare thigh.
She kissed him now, her lips searing hot against his forehead, his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth, seeming to urge him on. Mindless now in the desire that coursed deep within him, Reece inched his fingers higher and higher on her thigh, closer to that most secret place. And before he even realized what he was doing, he pushed aside the soft, heated satin of her panties and began a tender and loving exploration.
She was hot and moist and ready, and she murmured something unintelligible against his lips as their kisses grew even more fervent. She tipped up her chin, gasping, then she laced her fingers at the back of his neck, pulling him down and toward her. He lowered his head to take one delectable nipple into his mouth. He felt her passion building as he lavished her with attention. Her body quivered with mounting tension; all the while, the dryer beneath her exuded a slow, heated movement as the clothing inside churned around and around.
She was close now. Oh, so close to the edge. He could feel it in every strained muscle, in the way her breathing came in short, intense inhalations.
And at the very second she gasped, swept away into the blazing oblivion, he lifted his head, intent on witnessing the sheer and utter joy expressed on her beautiful features.
After a few moments, the rising and falling of her chest slowed a little, and she took a deep, relaxed breath as she smiled at him.
"That was wonderful," she said, her tone raspy with spent passion.
She leaned forward, sliding off the corner of the dryer, and he helped her to balance until her feet were on the floor. Reaching around behind her, she snatched up her blouse, slipping her arms into it.
"Come on," she said.
When she looked up at him, the excitement that lit her gaze caused his heart to thump.
"Let's go upstairs." She took his hand. "I want to—"
"Wait," he said, standing his ground. "Let me just hold you a minute, okay?"
Maggie wanted to go upstairs, to either her bedroom or his, and make love. He read it in her expression, saw her intentions clearly in her sexy green eyes. And he wanted that too. More than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. In fact, he ached with it.
She stepped into his arms, and he enfolded them around her, hugging her to him tightly. He wanted to enjoy every single second he had with her. Every single second.
He inhaled the warm scent of her and smiled when thoughts of fresh summer rain and fields of dainty, brightly colored flowers came to mind. Anticipation pumped through him, inebriating in its intensity.
The gift she was about to give him would be wonderful. Special. An offering to be cherished like nothing else a woman could give a man.
He hesitated at the thought, a thin veil of shadowy apprehension dimming the intense desire inside him.
However, when she whispered, "Come on. Please. Come upstairs with me," he easily pushed aside the vague uneasiness.
Maggie preceded him on the steps that led to the first level of the house, and Reece had to grin as he watched her cute little derriere sway from side to side.
But suddenly, he was besieged with anxiety. What she was about to give him didn't belong to him. This gift belonged to the man with whom she would spend the rest of her life.
Oh, she might be leery of men at this moment in her life, but Reece had no doubt in his mind that, some day, some man would snap Maggie up and give her a lifetime of happiness.
So who the hell did Reece think he was to take something that didn't belong to him? If Maggie made love with him tonight, she would surely come to regret it. And for some strange reason, Reece hated the mere suggestion that she might resent the closeness they had shared.
Stepping up onto the first-floor landing, Maggie tugged on his hand until he was beside her in the hall. She turned and started for the next set of stairs that would take them to the bedrooms.
"Maggie, wait," he murmured.
The crooked smile that tilted her lips when she turned back to face him was blatantly sexy. An open promise of the naughty things to come. "I agree," she whispered, moving close. "I need a kiss to tide me over till we get upstairs."
She reached up on the tips of her toes and pressed her mouth against his.
Her kiss was agony. He wanted desperately to forget his doubts. He wanted nothing else but to kiss her,
to touch her, to tumble into bed with her until they were both spent and sweaty and exhausted. But somewhere deep in the back of his mind, a niggling voice called for him to do the right thing.
"Maggie, wait," he said again, pulling away from her.
"What?" There was bewilderment in her gaze. "What's wrong?"
Reece inhaled deeply, steeling himself. "I don't think we should do this."
"What are you talking about?" She chuckled at his hesitation, the sound of it erotic. "Of course we should."
He shook his head. "I hadn't meant for this to go so far."
Her smile faded. "What do you mean? What are you saying?"
Reaching up, he began buttoning his shirt, his mind churning. Tread carefully here, he silently warned himself. You don't want to hurt her. Make certain to say something that will enable her to blame you rather than herself.
"I'm saying... that I don't want to do this."
Her eyes went wide, and she began to stammer. "But we have to. You made me... You didn't get to... I want to make sure you..."
She faltered, her cheeks tingeing with embarrassment, and Reece knew her sudden discomposure was due to the fact that he'd brought her to climax. He hated to think that something so beautiful would cause her even a moment of awkward self-consciousness.
He let his arms drop to his sides. "Maggie, none of that matters."
"Maybe none of that matters to you," she said. "But it sure as hell matters to me. You'll have me feeling guilty because you made me..." Her face flamed when she realized what she was about to say. "Reece, you have to let me—" she hesitated long enough to swallow "—make love with you."
He rubbed his hands over his face. Damn, did he realize what he was giving up here? He looked at her, standing there braless, shadows of her tawny nipples showing through the diaphanous silk of her blouse. Of course he did. That was why the whole situation was so damned difficult. When he looked at her again, anger sparked in her eyes.
"Well, I refuse to stand here," she blurted, "and beg you to go to bed with me." With that, she turned and hurried down the short hall and disappeared up the staircase.
