by Pamela Clare
“Now, that’s what I call a lunch break.” He kissed her forehead and felt a surge of warmth when she rested her head against his chest and laughed.
“I can’t believe we just did this! What if someone had walked in?”
“It would have been Monica’s blue dress all over again. Speaking of which”—he reached for a box of tissues and handed her a few—“here.”
In a few minutes, their clothes were back on straight, the scent of sex in the air the only sign that what had transpired wasn’t an interview.
That and the stupid grin on your face, Sheridan.
Reece pulled her close, slipped a hand beneath her skirt, and cupped her bare buttocks. “Is this what you normally wear to the office? If it is, I’m going to have one hell of a time getting through the work day.”
Kara looked up at him from beneath absurdly feminine lashes. “I actually only stopped by to ask if you’d like to come by tonight—say nine-thirty? The garters were just supposed to be incentive.”
“That they were, sweetheart. If I’d have known what was underneath your skirt, you’d have never made it out of the elevator, and the guys who staff the security cameras would have gotten a glimpse of the sweetest derriere on Earth.”
That made her blush. “I need to go.”
“I know.” He ducked his head, took her mouth in a long, deep kiss, and then released her. “Nine-thirty. And wear the garters.”
Not trusting himself to keep his hand off her, he waited until she’d gone to step out of his office. He found Galen Prentice threading toward him through the crowd. His tire-burning bill was up for second reading today. No doubt Prentice wanted to go over some of the objections that had arisen during first reading.
“Was that Kara McMillan who just walked out of your office?”
Instantly Reece was on guard. “She had some questions about one of my bills.”
“Yeah. I know her—if you take my meaning.” Prentice nodded, a self-satisfied smirk spreading across his face. “Watch out for her. She’s a hot piece of ass, for sure, but she’s not worth it. All she wants is to snag herself a successful husband. She tried trapping me a few years back. Got knocked up, then looked at me like I was supposed to marry her or some damned thing. I made it real clear I wasn’t going to fall for that old trick, and—”
“You’re the bastard who got her pregnant and left her!” Rage blazing white-hot in his gut, Reece grabbed the lapels of Prentice’s pricey double-breasted jacket and backed him against the wall. “You ought to be rotting in a jail cell!”
Prentice’s face turned red, and he tried to dislodge Reece with a shove. “Back off, Sheridan! Are you crazy?”
But blood hammered in Reece’s ears. “It’s against the law to desert your own child, Prentice!”
“It’s not mine! I never wanted it!”
“That’s not how the law works, and you know it!” Hearing Prentice refer to Connor as “it” did nothing to cool Reece’s temper. He leaned forward until he was shouting into the man’s face. “Maybe you didn’t want a child, but you sure as hell were enthusiastic about fucking her, weren’t you? A pretty young woman right out of college looks good to a middle-aged lawyer. Did you enjoy her? Did you brag to your friends how clever you were when you abandoned her?”
Prentice was sweating now, oily beads of perspiration on his balding head and upper lip. “Get away from me, or I’m going to press assault charges!”
With a jolt, Reece realized a crowd had gathered around them. He let go of Prentice’s jacket but gave the man no room. “Watch what you say about her, Prentice. Think very hard before you open your mouth.”
“Or what, Senator? You’ll punch me?” Prentice slid sideways along the wall, his voice high pitched and panicky.
“She deserves better than you. They both do. Come to think of it, you did them both a favor.”
There was a murmur in the crowd, and Reece heard Alan, the sergeant-at-arms, asking people to step aside. “What’s going on, Senator? Is this man bothering you?”
“No, Alan, he was just leaving.”
Prentice’s nostrils flared, and his sweaty face turned red. “I have every right to be here! I wasn’t bothering you! You attacked me!”
“Stay away from me, Prentice.” Then Reece turned back toward his office, not noticing the reporter who stood nearby with her recorder, a look of excitement on her face.
KARA GLANCED at her watch—5:04.
She’d spent an hour at the DMV doing a bit of research and now sat parked across the street from the most recent address on file for Mr. Scott Hammond. For two weeks now, he’d been ignoring her messages, screening his calls. But he couldn’t shake her off that easily. He had answers to some very important questions rattling around in that brain of his, and she needed to get at them.
She was watching for a 2001 silver Toyota Corolla with Colorado plates F1J-2390. By her estimates it was at least a twenty-minute commute from the state health department’s offices to Hammond’s home, a little ’70s ranch-style house with a carport. But if Hammond were like most government employees, he’d left work early. It was Friday, after all. As every reporter knew, you didn’t stand a prayer of reaching anyone in a government office after four-thirty on a Friday.
She sat back, her gaze on passing cars, her body still purring from her lunch tryst with Reece. She’d never done anything like that before. She’d gone to bed with her mother’s disturbing words in her mind, but she’d woken up with the rudiments of a silly plan. The idea had been to pay Reece a quick visit, lift her skirt, and show him what he wasn’t getting any of until later that night—if he was very lucky. She’d meant to turn him on, but walking around the office with the lace abrading her thighs, her privates bare, had made her blood burn. She’d been so turned on by the time she’d reached the Capitol that it had taken every ounce of self-control she possessed not to maul Reece in public. But the wait and the frustration had been worth it. When he’d bent her over his desk and pushed himself inside her, it had been absolute screaming heaven.
God, she got hot again just remembering it—and the fact that he was coming over tonight. It would be their first night together since Monday. Strange that four days without sex seemed like an eternity when she’d gone five years.
Headlights rounded the corner, momentarily blinding her. Then the car turned into Mr. Hammond’s driveway and slid under the carport. A silver Toyota Corolla. It was 5:07.
“Your tax dollars at work.” Kara slipped her digital recorder into the front pocket of her suit jacket, opened the car door, and met Mr. Hammond on his own front porch. He was a short man with thinning brown hair and the posture of someone who spent too much time hunched over a desk. “You’re a hard man to get a hold of.”
He gaped at her in astonishment and then looked around as if to see who else might be there. “What are you doing here? You’re going to get me fired—or worse!”
“There’s no one here but me, Mr. Hammond. And I have some questions that need answers. You’re the only one who can help me.”
He looked at her, fear written on his face as plainly as words on a page. He pushed past her and stuck his key in the deadbolt. “I can’t help. I’m sorry. Really, I am.”
“I’ve seen your inspection reports, Mr. Hammond. I know you’re a man who takes his job seriously. You want to protect people. You double-checked Northrup’s math, caught them faking the numbers. Why weren’t they prosecuted?”
He stepped through his front door and turned to face her. “I wish I could help you. I really do. But I’ve got a wife and two kids to feed. They’ll be home any minute. I need you to leave now.”
“Whistleblowers get federal protection, Mr. Hammond.”
“Not when they’re dead they don’t.”
CHAPTER 17
* * *
MR. HAMMOND tried to shut the door, but she stuck her foot in and blocked him.
“Off the record. Please, Mr. Hammond! Think of the whistleblower. He has kids, too.
What happens to him if Northrup isn’t held accountable? What happens to me? They may have broken into my house last weekend. I’ve got a son.”
He met her gaze through brown eyes that held both compassion and great misgiving. “All right. But only five minutes. And everything is strictly background. Off the record.”
“Agreed.” She slipped inside before he could change his mind and noticed that he pulled the curtains shut before he turned the lights on. “I’ve read through about half of the documents so far, and I’ve found dozens of inspection reports that have your name on them. What I haven’t found are successful prosecutions or even high fines. Tell me who’s protecting Northrup.”
He sat down on the overstuffed sofa, buried his face in his hands, and gave a nervous little laugh. “I suppose you want names. It’s not that easy. All I know is that I do the inspections, turn in the reports, and after I’m thanked for doing a good job, it all disappears. State bureaucracy, Ms. McMillan.”
“Don’t try to tell me it’s the system, Mr. Hammond. I don’t buy that. Decisions are made by people. People have names.”
“Start at the top. The governor, who gets big campaign donations from Northrup, tells my boss that he’s gotten a complaint from Northrup that inspectors are picking on them. The director of the health department knows his ass is on the line because he was appointed by the governor, so he tells me to back off. How’s that for starters?”
“You’re saying the governor is in Northrup’s pocket and is exerting pressure on your department to go easy on them?”
He gave another nervous laugh. “Yeah. That’s part of it.”
“Tell me the rest. How can major violations of state and federal environmental laws just disappear? Not even the governor can accomplish that, can he?”
Mr. Hammond looked at the floor and then met her gaze. “What is the single most powerful governmental body in the state?”
“The state legislature.”
“Think smaller.”
There was only one governmental body that held authority over the legislature. “The Legislative Audit Committee.”
“Find the memo from the LAC, and you’ll have your answer.” He stood. “Now please leave. And please don’t contact me again.”
“It can’t be the whole committee, Mr. Hammond. They would never act unanimously to protect a polluter.”
He herded her toward the door. “Please go! Please. I’m sorry I can’t help you more. And be careful.”
“Why should I be careful, Mr. Hammond? Who wants to hurt me?”
But he had already shut the door.
KARA EXAMINED herself in the mirror. She wore the same thing she’d worn to work, but rather than a blouse beneath her jacket, she wore nothing, leaving her cleavage exposed from neck to navel. Her hair was coiled on top of her head. Lipstick as red as lust colored her lips. Scent was dabbed on her wrists, between her breasts, and onto her pubic hair. She was ready for him.
God, was she ready for him. It had taken no small amount of effort to make her way through dinner, bath time, and Fox in Sox tonight. Fortunately, Connor had exhausted himself playing dinosaurs at day care and fell asleep quickly, leaving her free to take a hot bath and prepare for Reece. She’d put fresh sheets on the bed, turned down the covers, and set candles around the room, candles she’d already lit. White wine chilled in the refrigerator, something Italian the wine store clerk had chosen for her when she’d pleaded for help. She’d sliced cheese and fruit to go with it, knowing they would be hungry afterward. It was the first time Reece would be spending time in her bed, and she wanted it to be just right.
Why it was so important that everything be perfect she couldn’t say. She didn’t want to think about that just now. All she knew was that she wanted him. She wanted him so badly that she ached with it. For tonight she wouldn’t analyze it. She would just enjoy it.
She had just gone to check on Connor when she heard Reece’s quiet knock on the door. Looking through the peephole to make certain it was he, she unlocked and opened the door. “Senator.”
His face was lined with stress, but he smiled, his gaze raking over her. “Ms. McMillan.”
Reece stepped inside and shut and locked the door behind him, all thoughts of his confrontation with Prentice dissipating at the sight of her. She was dressed much as she had been this afternoon—but with a few very noticeable differences. “You look incredible.”
The smile she gave him was both shy and seductive. “Have you eaten supper yet?”
He tossed his jacket onto the new couch and pulled her against him, intent on smearing that obscenely red lipstick all over her mouth. “Who needs food?”
They kissed their way recklessly to the bedroom. Tongues invaded, twined, stroked. Teeth nipped, bit, bruised. Hands fisted in hair, tore at clothing, fought to find skin.
Reece forced himself to let go of her and shut the door behind them. “Undress—everything but the garters and stockings.”
Her pupils were dilated, her breathing unsteady. Her gaze never left his as she did as he asked, peeling off the jacket he’d already unbuttoned, unzipping her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. And then she stood before him, all but naked, the bared curves of her hips and ass and the lush triangle between her thighs framed by the black lace garters.
He felt the same rush of air from his lungs. But this time he was determined to go slowly. She was a banquet, and he was going to savor every bite. He let his gaze wander over her, let her hunger—and his—build. “Lie down.”
She took two steps backward and lay down on her bed, her thighs parting just enough to give him a glimpse of paradise.
He took off his already loosened tie, knelt beside her, and heard her surprised intake of breath as she realized what he was going to do. He bound her wrists and tied them to one of the slats in her headboard. Then he yanked the pillow out from beneath her head—and slipped it beneath her hips.
Her breathing was fast, erratic, her nipples already hard and beaded. “Oh, Reece, now!”
“No.” He let his hands enjoy the feel of her—the firmness of her breasts, the satin curve of her belly, the flare of her hips. He parted her thighs and drank in the sight of her, the scent of her. He slid his fingers lazily over her already damp cleft, then gave her swollen clitoris an idle flick.
Her body jerked, and she whimpered. “Now! Please!”
“No.” She had taken him by surprise at the Capitol today. It was his turn to surprise her. “I hope you don’t mind if I brought a friend. I thought we could have a little threesome tonight.”
She gaped at him. “Wh-what?”
“I thought we’d try a little ménage à trois. You’re much too hot for me to keep to myself. You’re okay with that, aren’t you?” He made an educated guess and reached over to open the drawer of her small bedside dresser, then pulled the purple device out of a frothy pile of panties. “It’s just you, me—and Mr. Jiggle Stick.”
She gasped and tried to sit up, but with her wrists tied, she could only writhe. It was sexy as hell. “Oh, no, Reece, you can’t—!”
“Yes, I can. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” His cock strained rudely against his trousers, eager to get inside her. But he had other plans.
He turned on the vibrator, stretched out beside her, and chuckled at the embarrassed look on her face. Then he kissed her. While his tongue took her mouth, hard and deep, Mr. Jiggle Stick buzzed against her puckered nipples.
Her body jerked again, and she whimpered into his mouth, her hips rising off the pillow in search of release. But she would have to wait, to endure it, because he wasn’t finished yet.
Where the vibrator went, Reece let his lips and tongue follow—over her nipples, down her belly, across her inner thighs. He savored the taste of her, his mind reeling with urgent, aching lust.
Kara forgot to feel embarrassed, forgot to think, forgot to breathe. Her skin was hypersensitive, every nerve awakened by the soft vibrations, so that the kisses, licks, and nips th
at followed were almost unbearable. She heard the unmistakable sounds of a woman lost in the bliss of sex, and her arousal rose a notch when she realized the sounds were coming from her own throat.
Then he touched the vibrator lightly to her clitoris.
She all but screamed.
But as she lifted her hips for more, he moved it away. “Uh-uh. Hold still.”
“I can’t!”
“Yes, you can.” He moved the vibrator until it was a fraction of an inch away from her swollen flesh and held it there.
She bit her lip and fought to hold still, burning, aching, waiting.
When he let it touch her again, it was all she could do to keep from bucking against it. He rubbed it over her lightly, the vibrations making her inner muscles clench with pleasure so intense it almost hurt. Then he slipped a finger inside her and stroked her hard, until she was panting, pleading, begging.
Abruptly, the sensation stopped, and she moaned in desperation. She felt the mattress shift and opened her eyes to find him kneeling over her, a wicked grin on his face. “Now, Reece, please!”
“Mr. Jiggle Stick and I talked it over, and he gets to take you first.” Then his hands clasped her already parted thighs, and he pushed her legs apart and back, opening her to him completely. “But when he’s done with you, I’m going to fuck you long and hard.”
She watched almost in disbelief as he sank between her thighs, the buzzing vibrator in one hand. She realized what he meant to do seconds before he did it. “Oh, jeez!”
“Don’t be afraid. I won’t let him hurt you.” He nudged the vibrator into her, one slow inch at a time, until she whimpered with impatience. When its length was deep inside her, he turned it on high. Then his mouth lowered and closed over her.
“Oh! Oh, my God! Reece!” They were the last intelligible words she spoke. It was too much, too much. The vibrator gliding slowly, slickly, in and out of her, hard and pulsing. Reece’s tongue and lips torturing her swollen flesh. The sound of his aroused groans.
