She's Got the Look

by Leslie Kelly

  “I am. They’re nice, attractive and not cavemen.”

  He caught the insult. “I don’t know that nice is a word I’d use to describe either one of them. That Manning guy has chased so many women in this town, he ended up giving himself a heart attack.”

  Her chin went higher. “Oh, how nice, making fun of someone’s health.”

  “Not making fun, darlin’, it’s true. Happened last year.”

  “Whatever,” she muttered. “But I’m still glad that Rosemary arranged for them to be here tonight so I could meet them both.”

  He nearly let her words get to him, nearly left the party, like he should have an hour ago. But something made him wait. To think. To figure out what he was missing. So he remained still, staring at her from a few short inches away.

  For all her flip words and her confidence, Melody was barely holding on to her control. Her hands were clenched in front of her, her fingers clasped so tightly together they’d turned white. Her breathing was ragged, color brightening her cheeks. The woman was in no way calm, cool and comfortable. In fact, she was totally and completely on edge. On the verge of exploding. Or running.

  And suddenly, without another word, he understood. Everything came together in his mind and he got the whole picture. Melody hadn’t been uncomfortable with the other two men, because she’d felt absolutely nothing for them.

  Unlike with him.

  Watching her, it was so easy to see the truth. She was upset, shaking, confused and dying to get away now for one simple reason: because she wanted him. And only him.

  Now he just had to make her admit it.

  The realization that she was trying to bluff her way out of here with false bravado, and that she really wasn’t interested in anyone else, made a low, grateful laugh escape Nick’s lips. The laughter held both amusement at the way she’d been fighting her own reactions, and pure, one-hundred-percent relief that he wasn’t the only one feeling the intense, tangible attraction that had erupted between them from the moment they’d met.

  “What is so funny?” She looked indignant.

  “You,” he admitted. “You’re trying so damn hard to keep me from figuring out why you’re fine and dandy with those two when you can hardly hold it together with me.”

  Her mouth opened in shock. “You’re delusional.”

  “Uh-uh. I’m not. I just got it. You could talk them up easy because there was nothing there. No spark. No interest. Nothing.” Knowing he was right and feeling so relieved he wanted to cheer, he moved even closer, until his suit jacket brushed against the front of her sparkly blue dress. “Admit it,” he said throatily, “I’m the only man on your so-called list who makes you feel anything.”

  She froze, not pulling away, keeping their bodies close enough that he could practically feel the physical spark of energy and desire snapping between them. “Admit it, Melody.”

  Breathing even more deeply, she stared searchingly at his face, not responding. She didn’t have to. He knew he was right—her silence confirmed it. It only remained to see whether she’d have the guts to say so.

  The sound of a voice from outside startled her, shaking her out of her reverie. Her face flushing red, she stepped back. “You’re off my list. How many times do I have to say it?”

  He shrugged. “Until you can convince yourself it’s true.”

  Closing her eyes, she threw her head back and groaned. “Why would I want you? You’re arrogant and you don’t like my best friend and you don’t like cats and you’re not a nice guy!”

  One of her accusations deeply offended him. “Who told you I don’t like cats?”

  She opened one eye and peered at him. “So that’s the only thing you’re denying?”

  He answered with a shrug. “Rosemary’s okay. Sometimes.”

  She groaned again and spun away, stalking toward the French doors. As she passed the desk, she reached out angrily and slammed the palm of her hand flat on its surface. “I’ll put anyone else in first place on my list instead of you. The UPS guy…hell, my landlord! You are off my list and off my radar. You make me crazy. And I don’t want anyone who makes me crazy.”

  He followed, determined not to let her leave. She’d nearly reached the door but before she could escape outside, she got tangled up in the lacy curtains blowing in on the warm night breeze.

  “Honey, stop,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

  She didn’t walk out. Instead, she stayed very still.

  Stepping close behind her, he lifted his other hand to her bare arm, stroking up and down. Their bodies were so close he could feel her warmth, could smell the sweetness of her hair and her perfume and her skin. And her. “You need someone who makes you crazy,” he said, his voice downright hungry. “Someone who makes you wild and insane.”

  She said nothing. But the tenseness in her arm and shoulder began to disappear. She leaned back, slightly, almost imperceptibly. Just close enough that her back touched his chest and her hair slid across his cheek. Her sweetly curved ass brushed ever so lightly against his groin.

  He hissed. And she whimpered. He pushed closer. And she pushed back. Then all restraints were gone. Simply…gone.

  “Nick,” she moaned. It sounded like a plea.

  “Shh.” He lowered his hands, twining his fingers with her hand and sliding his other arm around her waist. Pressing his palm flat against her belly, he tugged her closer, tighter, savoring the softness of her body against his. Unable to wait any longer, he bent and sampled the fragrant skin on the side of her neck. Breathing deeply of her scent, he scraped his tongue up to her pulse point, then nibbled on her earlobe.

  “If it’s any consolation, you drive me crazy, too,” he admitted as she arched back, offering him more.

  He continued kissing her, bending farther to taste her throat. Letting his hand slide down her front, he brushed tantalizingly close to where he so wanted to touch her, and tugged her even tighter against him.

  “Oh, God,” she whimpered, obviously feeling the way his body was reacting to their embrace.

  “See?” he growled. “Crazy. Insane.”

  “Yes, I see.” Melody reached up and behind her to loop one arm around his neck. Her hips thrust back gently, almost reflexively, as if seeking the touch he hinted at.

  And oh, how he wanted to give it to her.

  As if sensing they were nearing a much more intimate encounter—and wanting it—Melody reached out and pushed the French door shut with a click, then adjusted the drapes to ensure it was covered. That left them secluded, with complete privacy.

  Almost desperate to taste her mouth, he took her actions as enough of a sign. Turning her around in his arms, he caught her lips in a carnal, openmouthed kiss. They gasped together, plunging and taking and exploring, all hunger and desperation—not the sweet, languorous desire with which they’d kissed earlier in the garden.

  This was sexual. Frenzied.

  Their mouths clinging together like they needed to share the air, she thrust his jacket off his shoulders, then grabbed at his tie. Tugging it open, she reached to undo the top buttons of his shirt so she could touch him. The feel of her cool fingers on his chest made him even more frantic, more desperate, and he pushed her toward the desk. When the back of her thighs reached it, she slid up onto it, parting her legs for him to step between them.

  Perfect. Because, at this minute, between her legs was exactly where he’d give just about anything to be. His future. His life. His soul.

  “Please, please,” she whimpered, arching harder against him as she wrapped one leg around the back of his. Only his pants and whatever she had on under her dress separated them, and he was desperate to be rid of both.

  She seemed to feel the same desperation, because she ground against him. Sliding up and down against his bulging erection, she made them both a little crazier, a little hungrier, until they were each groaning in anticipation. She was greedy, using his hard cock to take the kind of touch she most needed, right where she needed it. H
er fast, choppy breaths, coming between parted lips, told him she was getting off on just that.

  So was he. It was an incredible turn-on. Even through his trousers, he could feel her heat. The need to sink into her, into that tight, sweet wetness, was nearly overwhelming.

  But first he wanted to see her come. “Need some help, darlin’, or are you doing okay on your own?”

  Ignoring him, she panted, arched again, cried out some more and rode him as if he were her favorite vibrating sex toy.

  Of all the reasons to be used by a beautiful woman, he had to say this was one of the few good ones.

  He definitely, however, wanted to be more involved. Still giving her the pressure she wanted, he began to kiss his way across her cheek and her jaw. “You taste spicy. Like cinnamon. Vanilla. I want to devour you.”

  “Oh, my,” she whimpered, scraping her cheek against his face, tilting her head to give him access to her soft neck.

  He kissed her there, delicately licking his way down her throat until he could taste that vulnerable hollow. Continuing to inhale deeply, to breathe in her fragrance and her sweetness and her taste, he nibbled his way across her nape, then her shoulder, until he reached the tiny strap of her dress. He carefully nudged it aside, until it fell across her shoulder. One more push and the blue fabric fell away, revealing one perfect, plump breast.

  His mouth went dry with want. “Beautiful,” he muttered through a throat that felt too tight to breathe.

  Catching her mouth in another deep, wet kiss—where their tongues mated and danced, gave and took—he lifted a hand to her bare breast. She gasped against his lips and arched in response as he cupped her. When he caught her hard, tight nipple between his fingers and rubbed ever so lightly, she began to whimper, to sigh, to beg. “Nick, please…”

  Needing to taste her—now—he moved his hand away, replacing it with his mouth. Giving her absolutely no warning, he covered her nipple and sucked quick, hard and deep.

  She finally cried out, jerking against him. Grabbing his hair to hold him close, she shuddered, thrust and got what she’d been seeking. As she slid up and down against his erection, shaking with a powerful orgasm that literally rocked her whole body, he thought for a second that he was going to lose it and follow her over that peak. Fortunately, he was no inexperienced kid who couldn’t keep himself under control.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she whimpered, still shaking, her breaths choppy and her skin flushed.

  She might have reached one milestone, but the race was a long way from over. Having tasted her, he couldn’t wait to sample more. To feel more. To touch her as intimately as it was possible to touch a woman. “You taste so good,” he whispered, still licking her, sampling her sweet, tender skin. He sucked and nibbled, knowing by her little coos and whimpers how hard to take it and when to back off. And the pressure began to build again—he sensed it by her cries and the desperate look in her eyes.

  Needing more—and knowing she needed it, too—Nick reached for her knee and began stroking upward. Higher. Her legs parted, one lifting to invite further exploration. He slid his hand up that endless, smooth thigh as he continued to roll his tongue over her distended nipple, knowing he could have her coming against his hand within a few more inches.

  Nick nearly shook in anticipation of letting his fingers glide to the very top of her leg. Touching her there. And there. Exploring all that smooth skin and finally sinking into the hot, wet place where he wanted to completely lose himself, knowing she’d get lost again, too.

  Then Melody arched too far back and knocked the phone off the desk. It crashed to the floor, striking the hardwood with a crunch and a tiny ring. The sound was so surprising, so unexpected, that they both froze.

  And, at almost the same moment, both realized what had almost happened in their hostess’s office.

  “Oh, this…you…here?” was all Melody could manage to say as she stared at him, wide-eyed, flushed, with her legs still limp and parted and one gorgeous breast exposed.

  “Not here,” he muttered, trying to breathe again. Trying to think. Wondering how far the sound of the phone might have carried down the hall and who might have heard it. “Let’s go.”

  As if just realizing how revealed she was, Melody yanked at her dress, tugging it over herself. She slid off the desk, shimmying the rest of the blue fabric in place, covering those glorious thighs that he could almost feel wrapped around him.

  “Go?”

  “You live a lot closer than I do,” he said gruffly. “Let’s go. Now. While I think I can keep myself from ripping that dress off you and finishing what we started.”

  “We did start something, didn’t we?” She sounded dazed.

  “Yeah, I’d say we did.” Reaching up, he rebuttoned his shirt and fixed his tie. “I don’t want to be a name on a list to you, but damned if I want to wait, either. Not after…this.”

  He’d meant the words as a joke. Well, sort of. They’d been entirely true, but he’d meant to bring back that sense of wicked expectation that had gripped them a few moments before, hoping it would give them both the strength to get out of here and go straight to the nearest private place. Like her bedroom.

  He should have known better. She deflated at his words, judging by the quiver in her lips and the shakiness of her hands. “How could we have been so stupid,” she whispered.

  “Nothing this good can be stupid.” He reached for her, but she ducked away. “Melody, no regrets. You wanted this.”

  She nodded, admitting that much. “I did. I wanted it.”

  He pressed her. “And you want to finish it.”

  “I do.”

  He tried hard not to let her see his relief. Finishing with his tie, he tucked his shirt back in, wondering where in the hell his jacket had ended up. Spotting it on the floor, he bent to retrieve it, almost not catching what she said next.

  “But I’m not going to finish it, Nick.”

  He quickly straightened. “What?”

  She swallowed hard. “I can’t. If anything, what happened just now proved everything I suspected. It’s too much. Sex with you would be too good, not the quick, forgettable experience I need to help me get back in the saddle.”

  His jaw tightened, but he let her go on.

  She laughed bitterly. “Believe me, I know I deserve good sex after three years without it, and part of me says I deserve you. But I’m a coward and I’m too screwed up right now to take you.”

  “You were doin’ fine from where I was looking,” he said, giving her a teasing smile. This had to be cold feet. Had to be. No woman could say no to something she so obviously wanted. So very badly. “I have to say, I kind of liked watching you take what you needed.”

  Color rose in her face.

  “I cannot let this happen.”

  Before he could say a word—before he could think of a word to say—she spun around and dashed out of the room, taking off down the interior hallway as if she were being chased by a knife-wielding maniac.

  Nick stood there, stunned, staring at the door, listening to the click of her heels on the hardwood floors of the house. They got softer as she got farther and farther away. And then they were gone completely.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MELODY HAD erotic dreams for the next couple of nights. Intimate, wicked dreams that woke her from her sleep, leaving her restless and needy. Shaking with desire. Hungry to finish what she and Nick Walker had started at the party.

  She needed sex. Needed it badly. Needed it now.

  The little gadgets she’d become accustomed to using during the last few passionless years of her marriage wouldn’t do a thing for her. Not after the amazing things Nick had made her feel Saturday night in Rosemary’s office. Having come so close to getting the real thing—a lot of the real thing, judging by the bulge she’d felt behind his zipper—she simply couldn’t make do with any substitutes.

  It was him or nobody. The real thing, or nothing at all.

  She still grew hot and flustered just th
inking about what had happened. Melody had always liked sex, but she’d never been a greedy little monster about it. Yet Saturday night, she’d rubbed up against the man like a stripper on a pole. Using him for her own fulfillment, she hadn’t much cared whether he was getting off on watching her pleasure herself. Though…he definitely appeared to be.

  How on earth could she ever face him again?

  No faces necessary with certain positions…

  “Knock it off, stupid,” she muttered aloud. Thinking about naughty sexual positions with Nick Walker was not going to do anything to get the man out of her head, or relieve the pressure between her legs.

  Judging by her bedside clock, it was nearly one in the morning Tuesday, so thinking about him wasn’t helping her get to sleep, either.

  C.C. and Oscar both heard her mumbling and came slowly walking up from the foot of the bed, where they’d grown accustomed to sleeping since the move to Savannah. She liked having them there, particularly since Bill had been a closet cat-hater who’d shut them out of their room every night. At least, back when they’d shared a room. That had finished long before their breakup.

  “He does like cats,” she admitted, scratching C.C.’s head and letting Oscar curl up under her neck. “But letting things get that far was still the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”

  The cats just mewed, probably wondering why she’d woken them up at this time of night. “Make that the second dumbest thing I’ve ever done. Marrying Bill, that was number one. But starting things with Nick…not finishing things with Nick…oh, hell, I don’t know which is worse!”

  Nick didn’t seem to be much happier about the way they’d left things. He’d called three times over the past few days. She’d ignored the calls and let her machine pick up. The first time he’d sounded almost…well, she’d say hurt if she’d been talking about anyone but a big, hunky cop. He’d wanted to know why she’d walked out, and what she planned to do now.

  His second call had been flirtatious. Tempting. When he’d told her answering machine that he could still lick his lips and taste her nipple there, she almost came out of her chair and dove for the phone.