* * * *
It had been easy to leave Charles Vernon behind in the diner. Roxie hefted her duffel bag in hand and hurried down the street. She’d changed from her uniform, but even so, she smelled the grease from the burgers and fries on her skin and in her hair. Continually glancing over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed, she unlocked the door to her apartment building and yearned for one thing. One long shower to rid herself of the odor from work.
An odd feeling stopped her and forced her to glance over her right shoulder then her left. She saw nothing out of place. Hurriedly, she locked the door from the inside, but like a bad taste in her mouth, the feeling of being watched persisted.
Chapter Three
After he arrived at his rented condo, Charlie showered. It had never felt so good before to rid himself of the salty sweat. He dressed in a dark gray two-piece suit with a navy blue tie and a gold tiepin given to him several years before by his law professor. She’d told him he’d go far, and it was her way to honor his achievement of being her best student in the thirty years she’d been teaching. He stroked the gold lightly but affectionately. She’d known and appreciated his drive and determination to make something of himself.
Charlie glanced out the second story window at the quiet neighborhood and the parking lot that was filling up quickly as people arrived home from the jobs to which they commuted—often long distances. The sun was casting its last purplish-orange shade as it set like a stately queen into its bedchamber. Far away, he heard the roar of a motorcycle but ignored the sound, which quite possibly came from the nearby freeway.
His eye caught the distant sparkle of water. The Pacific Ocean. He paused to admire the beauty. Although he lived in the Boston’s Back Bay neighborhood back home, he didn’t have such a good view of the ocean. Behind the condo, several miles away, the forest reared up into the mountains. He heaved in a deep breath of air, inhaling the barely discernible scent of roses on someone’s patio. Birds trilled their night song, and crickets chirped in the arroyo below the condos.
The sound of the motorcycle was getting louder. He gritted his teeth, unwilling for the silence to be broken by such a harsh noise. How he hated the disturbance, which reminded him of his youth and his inability to fight against the violent gangs that terrorized his neighborhood. Charlie had sought justice for their crimes since becoming a lawyer. He owed his mother that much.
Now he saw the rider and shiny black metal hurtling down the two-lane street where the condos were situated. Throwing on his jacket, he hurried down the stairs to the first floor with bated breath. The bike stopped outside, its engine idling. The almost angry blare of a horn assaulted his ears.
“What the hell?” he muttered, his heart jumping into his throat. Maybe the previous condo lessee had hung out with a biker, and the person didn’t yet know he’d moved on.
Fully intending to give the motorcyclist a piece of his mind, Charlie threw open the door and strode out onto the sidewalk. The sun was low in his eyes and prevented him from seeing who was planted on the seat. Unafraid of confrontations, he kept marching down the walkway. The cement felt hard and unaccommodating under his wingtips. In no uncertain terms, he’d urge the guy to quickly move on or he’d call the cops.
Still shading his eyes against the sun’s glare, he came level with the earsplitting racket. His mouth fell open in utter astonishment. The rider was the woman who’d stolen his parking space earlier that morning. Crap, but somehow she’d found out where he lived.
He almost barked out, “What do you want?” but she lifted her visor up and he saw her face with her dancing blue eyes, pert nose and glossy, parted lips. He forgot everything but that kissable mouth and imagined thrusting his tongue between the silky skin, tracing his knuckles down her cheek in a lazy line, unzipping her jacket, and watching as her breasts spilled out while her nipples hardened right in front of his eyes. He’d take her, his cock sliding into her warm wetness as she wrapped her questing arms around his neck and begged for more.
The fantasy abruptly ended when she cleared her throat. How could he have lost his senses so quickly in her presence?
A rose blush tinted her cheeks. She unbuckled the helmet’s strap, lifted the whole thing from her head and shook out her hair which flew gently in silky tendrils before they landed on her leather-clad shoulders. The black was accentuated by her blonde hair, and Charlie thought about dark satin sheets and her limbs spread out awaiting his touch.
Once more, he shook himself. What was it about Roxie that turned on his hormones big time?
He barely caught the helmet she threw in his direction. Still, it landed against his chest with a thud.
“You sure you don’t want to change into something more comfortable?” she asked in the musical voice with which he had become so familiar. She gave him a playful, full-toothed smile.
He didn’t immediately answer. He should have known. Biker chicks weren’t his type. His record for striking out grew by one.
“I am comfortable,” he managed, pulling himself together. He hadn’t expected Roxie to show up in a biker’s outfit. She seemed more genteel than that. His mind kept searching for the missing piece of the puzzle. What was wrong with his picture of beautiful Roxie on a fiendish motorcycle? Somehow, the two didn’t add up.
She leaned forward on the bike. “You look uptight, Charlie.” She unzipped her jacket the tiniest fraction of an inch. “Do you think this is a bad idea?”
Charlie panted and held the helmet with a death grip. The woman was torturing him out of his mind. His trousers were far too tight in the crotch area, and getting less accommodating by the second. Couldn’t he get his mind off sex and onto her? Which was the same thing, he told himself with a hint of sarcasm. He exhaled deeply.
He’d never been on a bike before. Could he manage to get on without showing trepidation?
Helplessly, he watched as Roxie kicked down the bike’s stand, settled her helmet on the seat and turned to him.
She’s an angel with the setting sun glowing all around her like a halo of living fire. An angel in black. An angel determined to take me to the ends of the earth with her.
Striding up to him, she grasped his helmet then gently clamped it on his head without fastening the strap. The heady fragrance of gardenias surrounded him. He realized she could do anything she wanted to him, and he was helpless against her, although he was certain she meant no harm. She just didn’t have it in her.
“Now this.” She unknotted his tie with deft fingers.
How many other men had she touched like this, he wondered, and jealousy stabbed him in the heart with its pitchfork. They’d been lucky, and he was about to join their ranks, if he didn’t baulk.
Roxie stuffed the tie in his breast pocket. She leaned further forward and whispered loudly, “You look really tense. Relax. I haven’t killed anyone.” With a chirpy smile, she added, “Yet.”
“That’s what worries me,” Charlie croaked. Get a grip on yourself. She’ll think you’re a dunce, and even before we get it on, she’ll ditch you.
“I want to do you, Charlie,” she continued, lifting her lips to his.
He’d practiced keeping his hands off her all day, but now, he couldn’t resist. If she was offering her mouth up to him, what man could resist the lure of sexy temptation?
Every nerve in her body trembled as Roxie faced Charlie. The sun had set and dusk encircled them in its grayness. She could easily see his pupils narrow, and the column of his throat moved up and down with a hard swallow. Leaning closer, she reached tentative fingers to the crotch of his trousers. Her fingertips met exquisite silk. He had quite an erection. She wanted more of him before she came to herself. They were in a semi-public place. His neighbors could be watching.
He stepped forward, lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers with a feather-light touch. His muted groan sank into her mind with such impact, she probably would have heard him a mile away. The caress of his mouth was a promise of things
to come.
“Charlie?” she whispered loud enough that he could hear her above the idling bike. “Come with me. I promise you won’t regret it.”
He shivered under her fingertips that melted into his shoulder through the heated jacket. “I’ve never sat behind a woman driver on a bike before.”
She laughed softly at his endearing remark. “I’m a perfectly safe driver,” she said, willing herself to step away from him, to break the sexual frissons simmering between them, but only until they got up into the mountains. Then the wildcat in her would come out and play and satisfy him.
“I know.”
His gaze fastened on her, and she felt he was having the same trouble she was, trying to break the physical connection. Her panties were drenched, and if she wound her arms around his neck, she wouldn’t let go until he’d satisfied her craving for every muscled plane of his body.
“Roxie, I can’t wait much longer. I’ve thought about nothing but you since this morning.” His voice was seductively low.
Should she ask whether he’d hungered after her the first or the second time, since he clearly had to suspect it had been she pre-empting his parking spot? Why bother with questions that might kill the sexual atmosphere they’d created and the electrical tension that insistently hummed between them?
She nodded in agreement. They’d end up in his condo. The luxury and apparent wealth within its walls was one feeling she could have done without.
The single nod was enough for Charlie. Taking her by the elbow as if she’d try to make a hasty escape like a butterfly might, he turned off the bike’s ignition and pulled out the key. Absolute silence reigned, and his ears rang.
As was his habit, he was taking charge. He wouldn’t allow Roxie to dictate to him, although, he wondered where she have taken him if he hadn’t been in such a hurry to take care of their wild needs. He dislodged his helmet from his head then set it on the seat along with hers. If he picked her up in his arms and carried his prize across the threshold, would she complain? He suspected she would and refrained from the euphoric action.
Out of habit, he scanned the condos and the countryside quickly before, still cupping her elbow, he ushered her into the condo. Her mouth didn’t drop open in astonishment as he expected, which caused him to wonder again. Who was Roxie really and where did she come from?
As soon as they were inside, and the door was locked, which Charlie made it a great point to remember, she pushed him back against the cool wall, crushing him between it and her soft body. Even through the solid leather, he felt her quiver, and he swore her nipples were hard against his chest.
“I want you,” she said, slipping the jacket from his shoulders. He helped her by shrugging out from the sleeves, and although normally he’d have folded it and set it on the back of a chair, this time he didn’t care. All his thoughts and every part of him were fully focused on Roxie, his angel of salvation. Her fingers nimbly unfastened the buttons of his shirt then she pressed her lips against his as she caressed his bare chest with her warm palms. His erection strained for release, and when she reached his belt buckle and freed him, he moaned with relief.
“I wanted you from the moment I first saw you,” she said, her voice laden with silken huskiness.
Charlie stretched his hand toward the zipper of her leather jacket, but she pushed him away.
“Later, you’ll get your turn. For now, you’re all mine. Every single inch of you.”
He thrilled at the notion that forceful, gorgeous Roxie was once again in charge. “You know normally I’m the one who takes care of my woman.”
She paused as she unzipped his trousers. It was as if a light switch had been turned off. Roxie moistened first her lower lip then her upper. Her eyes were wild and frightened.
Uh-oh. He’d said words she didn’t want to hear. Most women were excited at a wealthy man calling the shots and at being called “my woman”, but not Roxie.
Her exasperated gaze raked his face and pinned his eyes. “Charles Vernon, I’m only your woman for the night. You’d best leave it at that.”
Which was another confirmation that she was hiding something. Your will be done, as long as you hurry, Roxie, whoever you really might be. In other words, I shouldn’t expect more than what I’m getting. But you’ve clearly stated this is a short-term relationship of one night. I can understand that. A woman who’s on the run or covering up something doesn’t want anyone or anything holding her down.
Roxie witnessed the recognition of the boundaries she’d set on Charlie’s face, and satisfied that he understood where they were, she lifted her face to his and kissed him. If he had been unyielding, she’d have left right away, but he returned the prelude to sex in a practiced manner, just the way she liked her men to be. Of all the silly choices, why did she have to meddle with Charlie Vernon? Didn’t he have a variety of sources to help him at his fingertips? Couldn’t she have been attracted to someone else? Why did it have to be a prominent lawyer who was wealthy and reminded her of the luxurious lifestyle she’d left behind?
Her tongue laved each of his lips. He tasted fresh, of a hint of lemon. The fire in her veins roared over her as he opened for her. His hot breath mingled with hers, and suddenly, she was tugging at the remainder of his clothes with a determined vengeance. Charlie pushed away from the wall and circled his arms around her waist, drawing her lower body to his to trap her fingers between the flat of her stomach and his erect penis.
Their tongues mated, tasted, explored. Charlie’s hands traveled up Roxie’s relaxed spine, along the soft leather and into her lustrous hair. He loved the scent, the wildness, yet the tameness of her. Her secretiveness added a forbidden spice to her, to that kiss, and he indulged himself, careful not to pull on her tresses. She was giving herself to him, and for now, there was nothing else that mattered, even the danger of Rowter. Here, in his house, the man wouldn’t be able to get to her. He’d have to get through Charlie first.
Inwardly, Roxie sighed with enjoyment. This kiss was the most spectacular ever, she decided, extricating her fingers from between their bodies. Too bad she wouldn’t be able to hold onto him. He was quite the catch—for a society girl, which she’d ceased being the moment she’d fled from her father’s bodyguards. Precious freedom meant more to her than anything else she could have wanted, and to make love to Charlie brought forth the exhilaration of being free of prying eyes.
She cupped Charlie’s silk-clad buttocks in her palms, lifting him higher against her belly. He heaved a deep groan into her mouth. Their hot breath mingled, sending a ripple of pleasure down into her yearning center. Her breasts ached with an unaccustomed ferocity that left her puzzled. What was Charlie doing to her that no man had done before? A simple caress left her breathless, panting for more. This once she’d satisfy herself as she’d yearned to do since her days of freedom had begun.
His fingers disentangled from her hair, and he drew away. “I want you. Do you want me?”
Roxie felt certain he was asking, as a gentleman would, to ensure he wasn’t confusing her signals. She snorted, an act she’d learned from Eileen. “If I cross four lanes of heavy traffic and almost get killed in the process, do you think it was just because I thought you needed a cold drink?”
Charlie grunted but kept his hungry eyes focused on her face. Under his scrutiny, she felt a feminine thrill ride through her.
“I didn’t think my great comfort was on your mind.” He smiled good-naturedly. “More like you were hot for me.” A darting glance at her breasts, and he added, “Like I was for you, Roxie. Can I take you upstairs?”
She laughed flirtatiously. “Charles Vernon, I thought you’d never ask.”
He swept her into his arms and against his massive chest as if she were a rag doll, ran up the stairs from the foyer and into a corridor with many closed doors. After that, Roxie closed her eyes. She’d vowed so many times since she’d escaped her prison that she wouldn’t become angry when she saw crystal chandeliers, ornate wood molding
and expensive furniture. She’d concentrate on Charlie. Once their lovemaking was done, she’d slip away into the night. As quietly as a woman could on a loud motorcycle, she amended, suppressing a chuckle.
If Charlie had hopped on behind her, she’d have driven into the mountains and made love to him on the blanket she’d brought, but she hadn’t counted on the urgency of fulfilling her desires. Neither had she figured in that he was a stuffed shirt when it came to trying something new. She’d seen the quickly concealed horror in his eyes when she’d ridden up. She loved the excitement of owning her own bike, of revving up the engine and slipping in and out behind slow-moving vehicles on the freeway.
She felt him kick a door open with the toe of his shoe and abruptly took in the scent of clean sheets, delicate flowers and Charlie’s lingering musky scent.
“You can open your eyes now,” he whispered tenderly.
She batted her eyes open to find the room in half-light with a bed-stand light at low power providing the only illumination. He sank to the bed, depositing her as he would have a crystal vase that might shatter with any sudden, uncalculated movements.
Roxie sank into the mattress on top of the cotton sheets. She suspected the bed had been made up to perfection earlier.
“I love the color of your eyes,” Charlie said, bending to brush each eyelid in turn with gossamer kisses. “As beautiful as a sparkling sapphire.” The rasp of her jacket’s zipper cleaved the ensuing silence.
Charlie was about to discover she wore nothing underneath. Only a pair of shell pink, lace-edged panties. Earlier, as she showered, she’d wanted to surprise him and being bare was as good as any.
Charlie's Angel Page 5
