All a Man Can Do

by Virginia Kantra

  "I haven't changed my mind," he said quietly.

  "Oh." She swallowed.

  He watched the movement of her throat and the pulse fluttering under the angle of her jaw. She didn't look like a woman claiming a lover, he thought with tender amusement. She looked…apprehensive.

  He leaned forward, still holding their clasped hands against his chest, and kissed her gently on the mouth.

  Her lips were warm and stiff with surprise. Patiently he kept his lips on hers until they softened and relaxed. Until she softened, opening her mouth with a little sigh, closing her eyes.

  He kissed her again, a slow, soft kiss that promised more than it took.

  When he raised his head, she sighed again and rested her forehead against his shoulder. It felt good there. Her dark hair slipped forward, hiding her face.

  "I don't want you to think I'm doing this to get Mark off," she said.

  Jarek froze. And then he recognized the ugly echo of Bud Sweet's insinuations. Fury at the man who had abused her youth and her loyalty and her fear slammed into him. But he kept all traces of it from his touch on her cheek, all shadow of it from his voice. Tess needed to lay this particular ghost to rest. And he needed to be the one to help her do it.

  "I don't. As long as you don't think all cops are after one thing."

  She made a sound against his chest that could have been a laugh or a sob. "Deal," she said. She lifted her head, and her golden eyes were glowing. "Your place or mine?"

  He wanted her under his roof, in his bed. He wanted to stake his claim so deep she wouldn't have time for ghosts or comparisons. "Mine."

  Still she hesitated. "Allie—?"

  "Is at my parents' house."

  Yesterday, miraculously, Allie hadn't spent the drive to Chicago slouched in her seat, hiding in her headphones. She actually volunteered comments. She liked her new room, she said. She showed off her new nail polish.

  Tess did it, she'd confided, with a sideways glance at her father. Do you like it?

  Jarek wasn't sure. Wasn't ten too young for nail polish? But his daughter was smiling and talking to him, and if her new manicure was responsible, then he would take the nail polish and be grateful. If Tess was responsible… Well, there was time ahead to decide how he felt about that.

  Tonight he only had to think about Tess. Selfishly he was glad. Tonight was for the two of them. Only for him. Only for her.

  Tonight he would show her.

  Jarek's bedroom was like his car, dark and practical. Tess stopped just inside the door, her heart threatening to pound its way out of her chest. The only personal items she could see were a picture of Allie on Jarek's dresser and a crucifix on the wall by the bathroom.

  He entered the room quietly behind her. "All right?"

  She wasn't sure. On the ride over, despite the warmth of his hand on her knee and the simmer of her own blood, she'd had time to worry. Time to cool. All the doubting voices of experience had snickered in her brain like unwelcome back seat passengers. And the voices in her head sounded suspiciously like his brother. Disturbingly like hers.

  You are not what he needs.

  You are such a sucker.

  Shut up, she told them fiercely.

  "I'm fine," she said. "I'm looking."

  Jarek kissed the side of her neck, and the kick of her pulse temporarily drowned out the voices. "At what?"

  "Your room. It's very…" Grown-up, she thought. Intimidating.

  "Very…?" he prompted.

  She moistened her lips. The solid furniture and plain walls made her feel like she'd intruded on a priest's cell or a warrior's tent.

  "Functional," she said.

  His laughter was a vibration against her back, a warm breath against her ear. It stirred the fine hair at her nape and something else low in her belly.

  "It's been a long time for me," Jarek said. "But I think the bed still works."

  His self-deprecating humor and his honesty gave her the courage to turn in his arms. "I don't know what you've heard about me. I don't know what you expect. But I'm not a big mattress tester, either."

  His hard mouth curved. But his eyes were serious and very steady. "I'll keep it in mind."

  "You believe me?"

  "Yes."

  Just that one word. She wasn't used to unqualified… anything, let alone acceptance. She poked at it, cautiously, like a suspicious housewife with a fresh tomato. "Why?"

  "I'm a detective, Tess. Used to be a detective. I go on the evidence."

  She was surprised she could still be disappointed. But she was. Oh, she was. "You checked me out?" she asked, indignation rising in her voice.

  He frowned. "No. It's a personal observation. The truth is important to you. That's one of the things I admire about you—your honesty. The way you do your job." He reached to smooth a strand of her hair behind one ear. His touch lingered. The back of his fingers brushed her jaw. "I didn't figure you'd lie to me, that's all. Not about this."

  The gift of his words, the warmth of his touch, made her squirm inside with pleasure. She turned her cheek into his palm. "Oh. I thought maybe you meant some other kind of evidence."

  "Hmm…" He kissed one eyebrow. She closed her eyes. "I did notice you don't travel with an overnight bag."

  "No toothbrush," she agreed breathlessly as his mouth cruised the side of her face.

  He bit the point of her jaw, and she melted. "I can give you a toothbrush."

  His chest was warm and solid under her seeking hands. He was warm lower down, too, and more solid by the second. She moved her hips experimentally, and he grasped her rear end in both large hands and pulled her firmly against him. Oh, boy.

  "No condoms." She gasped.

  "I've got condoms."

  "I didn't even bring—" the hot ridge rubbing between her legs felt so good "—a change of underwear."

  He eased her legs open with his knee and moved between her thighs. "You're not going to need underwear," he said. "Not for a long time."

  He stroked a line of fire from her hips to her waist. Tugging her shirt free of her slacks, he slid his hand up and inside, across her quivering back and around to her front. His fingers skimmed her breast. Desire bolted through her.

  She gasped. "We could get rid of it now. The underwear."

  She felt his smile against the side of her face. "Now would be good."

  Despite his agreement, he didn't seem to be in any particular hurry. He kissed her softly, and then not so softly, and then hard and deep. She swayed and sagged against him, opening her mouth wide, urging him on, urging him in. He palmed her breast, teasing her nipple to an aching point.

  He rubbed and made her sigh. He squeezed and made her moan. He kissed her, his tongue thrusting boldly into her mouth in a way that melted her knees. And then he went back to his light, delicate tracing through the lace of her bra.

  Tess inhaled in frustration. This all felt good. Wonderful, in fact. But it wasn't enough.

  Leaning back against his supporting arm, she dragged her T-shirt over her head and dropped it on his tidy floor. Self-consciously she combed her hair with her fingers. But Jarek wasn't looking at her hair, she realized. He was staring at her breasts in their bright red demibra.

  He raised his gaze, and she jolted at the heat in his eyes. Jarek cleared his throat. "I may change my mind. About your underwear."

  Distracted by the hard, almost primitive cast of his face, it took Tess a while to absorb his words. She grinned. "Like it?"

  "Yeah. Is the rest of it that—" He gestured with one hand, apparently at a loss for words.

  "That what?" she prompted, filled with a new, delicious sense of her own power.

  Humor and hunger warred in his eyes. His gaze traveled from her face to her breasts. To her belly and the zipper of her jeans. Her insides clenched. Her thighs loosened.

  "That…red?" he asked.

  She was dizzy with delight, drunk with confidence, swooning from the look in his eyes. "Why don't you find out?"

>   He reached for her. Snagging a finger in the front closure of the jazzy red bra, he tugged her forward. It snapped open, and he smoothed the lace cups back from her breasts with his long, blunt-tipped fingers. Her heart stuttered. His hands stilled.

  "Beautiful," he said.

  She squirmed, uncomfortable with compliments. "I thought you liked the bra."

  His voice thick, he said, "I like you better."

  He kissed the slope of her breast above her shaking heart.

  He kissed the outside curve, his hair brushing her arm. He ran his tongue along the heavy underside, and her nipple puckered. He touched it with just the tip of his tongue, and she gasped.

  "Hot," he said, and took her into his mouth, tasting her fully. He pushed her breasts together and feasted on her nipples, drawing out her response, making her twist and sigh.

  He unbuttoned her jeans. His hands slid everywhere, stroking, commanding. He nuzzled and sucked. Through the pulse pounding in her ears, drumming in her blood, she heard an unfamiliar, needy moan. Hers. She bit her lip.

  She touched his jaw. She tugged on his short hair. He straightened and wrapped his arms around her, so that she could feel him hard and reassuring all along her body. Her bare breasts rubbed his rough cotton shirt front. He kissed her, his mouth hot and possessive, and backed her toward his bed.

  Like dancing, she thought, and laughed in pure pleasure.

  Jarek raised his head. He lifted an eyebrow. "Want to let me in on the joke?" he asked mildly.

  "No joke," she assured him. And then thought, why not tell him? It was true, and he didn't mind it when she told the truth. "I'm happy, that's all."

  His rare smile broke, dazzling as the sun on snow. "Honey, I haven't begun to make you happy yet."

  He was as good as his word.

  He tumbled her back on his bed—it bounced—and came down on top of her. His arms braced beside her head. His weight pinned her to the mattress. He felt strong. Solid. Incredible. Tess sighed in relief. They were getting somewhere now. But he went back to kissing her mouth. He kissed her throat. He savored her breasts and burned a hot trail down her stomach, using his lips and teeth and tongue until her skin was tender and her emotions were raw.

  Tess arched mindlessly as he slid one finger along her zipper. His hands spanned her waist, shoving her jeans over her butt, grazing her bare skin.

  She sucked in her stomach. What if he didn't like—?

  "Thong panties?" Jarek groaned and rested his forehead on the curve of her belly. "Red thong panties. Honey, I'm a dead man."

  She relaxed. Smiled. Opened her arms wide and let them fall against the pillows of his big, hard bed. "Gee," she said. "I feel terrible. Maybe you should, I don't know, punish me or something."

  Jarek laughed, a short, surprised sound that did nothing to relieve the tension pulsing through him. He looked down again at Tess, at her pale gold skin and the shadow of dark curls. At the strip of scarlet silk that taunted him like a red flag in front of a bull.

  Red. Holy St. Mike.

  He took a deep breath. He was not going to lose it, he promised himself. He was going to make it good and slow for her. So slow she would never forget it. So good she would come back for more.

  He worked her jeans down her thighs. Both of them shuddered as he paused to touch, to taste. He stroked her long, sleek legs. He kissed her smooth, curved belly. She tasted like woman, like scented soap and sex. He really had died and gone to heaven.

  He eased his fingers along the edge of red elastic, his touch delicate, flirting with the soft curls, following the tender crease of her thigh. And when she made a sound of sweet excitement, when her hips rolled and lifted in invitation, he pulled that skimpy triangle of silk out of the way and put his mouth on her.

  He wanted to learn her body like her responses were a puzzle he had to solve.

  But he never had a chance. He was caught up in her response, her scent, her cries, the twisting movement of her hot, sleek body. She swamped him, surrounded him, towed him under and carried him out to sea. She shuddered as she crested the first time, gripped his shoulder and tugged his hair and dragged him up to her. They rolled across the mattress, while his blood roared in his ears and her hands wrestled with his clothes.

  "Take it off," she said through her teeth.

  It. His mind, pummeled by sensation, whirled uselessly. His shirt? His pants?

  Tess solved his dilemma. She grabbed the edges of his shirt and pulled. She yanked the button free of his slacks and grasped the tab of his zipper.

  "Hey." He was startled to a moment's sanity. "Watch the teeth, honey."

  She froze. "Sorry."

  He swore. "Never mind."

  He took her mouth with urgent greed, and she made this little sound at the back of her throat—heaven—and ravaged him back, capturing him in her arms, parting her warm, smooth thighs. For him.

  Her fingers wrapped him, and his mind went blank. His vision blurred. While her hands streaked over him, he groped for the box of condoms, fumbled with protection. He wanted to be inside her. He needed to be inside her now.

  He felt her open for him, saw her lips part and her eyes widen as he took her hands, as he laced his fingers with hers and pressed inside her. One long, slow stroke into the heat and the heart of her. Home.

  She stretched to welcome him, arched to receive him.

  They moved together, in a simple rhythm that drew him in and drove him on. Everything he was, everything he wanted, was here in this bed with her now. Her hands clasped his. Her gaze held his. She tightened around him with a soft, shuddering sigh, and his world exploded. He lay on her, deafened, breathless, his heart hammering and a dozen red-on-black suns dancing behind his eyelids.

  Chapter 15

  The more things changed, the more they stayed the same, Tess thought.

  She was naked between the sheets of Jarek's bed. Last night the earth had moved, the stars stood still, and Jarek Denko had made her feel like a natural woman. Any and every clichéd love song playing on the radio had suddenly made sense.

  And she still woke up alone.

  Surprise, surprise.

  She eased onto her side, trying not to feel Jarek in every delicious ache and twinge, and squinted at the bedside table. Was it really three in the morning? Had to be. The clock was one of those digital display models, as practical as everything else in this room. Well, everything except her. Tess looked at the floor, where her red bra made a bright spot on the carpet. She definitely did not match the rest of Jarek's decor.

  She sat up and started patting down the sheets at the bottom of the bed for her panties. At the last moment, she grabbed another foil packet from beside the bed and folded her fingers over it.

  In her underwear and Jarek's shirt, she padded barefoot down the stairs, following a dim glow from the living room. The television? Tess frowned. Maybe Jarek wasn't a cuddle-me-close kind of guy, but she'd never have guessed he'd give up his bed to watch late night truck racing.

  But what else was keeping him up in the middle of the night?

  She stopped in the doorway. Jarek sprawled on the big leather couch, a laptop balanced on his thighs, his intense face lit by the blue glow of the computer screen and the slanting yellow light of a lamp. He wore jeans. Nothing else.

  Just the sight of him—those broad, bare, powerful shoulders, the vulnerable hollow above his collarbone, his hair-roughened chest and the smooth, tender skin of his neck— did something funny to her insides. He looked tired and preoccupied and very, very sexy. Every single spot on her body he'd touched or kissed or licked, every stretched muscle and satisfied nerve ending, came alive and shouted Mine.

  As if he could hear that silent chorus, he looked up, his gray eyes dark and distracted. And then he smiled. "Hi."

  She flushed at being caught mooning over him like a fourth-grader with her first crush. He was busy. She shouldn't have come down. "Hi. I woke up and you, um, weren't there."

  Great She wasn't only intruding, she
was whining.

  "Sony." Jarek rubbed his face with one hand. "I thought I'd get some work out of the way while you were sleeping."

  She tried a joke. "You write a lot of traffic tickets at three in the morning?"

  "Actually I'm trying to get the interviews typed up to turn over to the state's attorney in Fox Hole."

  He sounded weary.

  She took a step closer, holding the edges of his shirt together, drawn more by the need in his voice than the desire clamoring in her own body. "What will he do with them?"

  "She," Jarek corrected her absently. "The prosecuting attorney is a woman. She'll turn them over to the sheriff to investigate police misconduct in the attack on your brother. I can't be involved. The integrity of the review process has to be above question."

  "There's no question about your integrity," Tess said fiercely.

  "Well, there will be," Jarek said with a touch of bitterness.

  She sat on the arm of the couch, tugged by guilt and concern. Jarek's gaze fell to her exposed thigh and darkened. Flushing, she fussed with the hem of the shirt, trying to keep the condom hidden in her hand. "No, there won't. The mayor and the town council hired you because they knew the police department needed new leadership. New discipline. New standards."

  "The new broom sweeps clean?"

  "Absolutely."

  "And how are they going to react when the new broom knocks a hole through their floorboards?"

  She didn't know. "Do you regret it?" she asked.

  "Regret what? Stopping half a dozen drunk vigilantes from beating the crap out of a former serviceman?" He shook his head. "No."

  "No, I meant…hitting Sweet."

  Jarek grinned, a brief, sharp grin that made him look disconcertingly like his brother Aleksy. "The only thing I regret is not breaking the bastard's jaw. But this whole incident has forced me to reconsider what I'm doing in this town."

  She risked a touch on his bare arm. "What do you mean?"

  "I've always defined myself by my job. And I haven't done my job here very well."

  "You've done everything a man could do."

  "I don't know." He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "At least if I'd put your brother in custody for the murder of Judy Scott, the way Sweet wanted, they wouldn't have jumped him."