Sensual Confessions

by Brenda Jackson

  “And don’t think for one minute I’m not going, too,” Blade all but snarled, feeling more protective of a woman than he’d ever felt before. The same woman he’d convinced himself just last night that he didn’t want to cross paths with ever again. “If it involves Sam, then I’m going.”

  Luke glanced over at him and nodded. “Fine.”

  Blade took in a deep breath as he opened the door and got in the front seat. Why he felt the need to see for himself that Sam was okay, he wasn’t sure. He would figure out the reason why later.

  Chapter 14

  During the last thirty minutes, Sam’s attitude had gone from shock to anger and then fury, evident from her use of some of Peyton’s colorful expletives, which at one point had begun flowing from her mouth as if they were an everyday part of her vocabulary.

  Now she had calmed down—somewhat. She had managed to prove that her temper at its best would put even her father to shame. How dare someone send her flowers for six weeks, only to inform her that now her days were numbered? The man had to be a lowlife, a scoundrel, an asshole.

  “And you’re sure you have no idea who could have sent you these flowers or why they want to threaten your life, Ms. Di Meglio?”

  Sam glanced across the room. For a while she’d forgotten the detective had been sitting in the extra chair Priscilla had brought into her office. She’d also forgotten that Mac and Peyton were still in her office, as well. Everyone was sitting there and staring at her.

  She drew in a deep breath and returned the detective’s intense gaze. She had met him a year and a half ago, when he had been investigating the trouble involving Mac. “No, Detective Adams, I have no idea who’s behind those flowers and—”

  At that moment her office door flew open and Sam saw Blade standing in front of her, bigger than life. Over his shoulder, she could see Luke and Reese standing behind him. The look on Blade’s face was fierce, almost lethal. Detective Adams had been quick, and was already on his feet with his gun drawn.

  “Wait!” three female voices said at once, although Sam’s was the loudest.

  It was only when Luke pushed passed Blade that Detective Adams recognized him and put his gun back in his holster and straightened his jacket. “I would suggest you knock the next time,” Adams said, offering Luke his hand.

  Luke grinned as he shook hands with the man. “It wasn’t my idea to burst in like that. That’s my cousin Blade. He’s sort of a hothead at times. And this is my brother Reese.”

  Sam sat back down in her chair, trying to get her heart rate back to normal, as she stared across the room at Blade. She’d known he was with Luke when Mac had called, because Mac had mentioned it. But considering everything, she hadn’t expected him to come.

  Her gaze moved past him to Reese. She’d only seen him a few times since the wedding, and she thought there was no mistaking him and Luke for brothers, since they favored each other quite a bit. Like Luke, Reese was a very handsome man.

  But no one, she thought, letting her gaze shift back to Blade, was more handsome than the man staring back at her, even when he was mad. And yes, he was mad, but she couldn’t tell if he was angry at her or the situation that she found herself in.

  “I was just asking Ms. Di Meglio a few questions so I can decide how to proceed, since she prefers that I not alert the police yet. So for now, I’m working this case privately.”

  “Why don’t you want the police involved?” Blade asked her, as if he had every right to know.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him it was none of his business what she did, but for some reason she couldn’t do that. “I prefer that my parents not know about this,” she said. “And for now, until we find out if there is a legitimate threat, I want as few people to know about it as possible.”

  He nodded and then leaned against a wall. There was a knock on the door and Priscilla brought in more chairs and left, closing the door behind her.

  Everyone sat except for Blade. It seemed he preferred standing, bracing himself against the wall, directly in her line of vision. She tried focusing her eyes on Detective Adams instead of on him.

  “Now then, we can continue,” Detective Adams said. “And before we do I need to make sure you’re comfortable with everyone here.”

  She drew in a deep breath. Although Blade was probably the last person she should have felt comfortable with, considering their history, she said, “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “All right then. I was asking if you have any idea who could have sent you those flowers with the card.”

  She shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  “And just how long have you been getting the flowers?” he then asked.

  “About six weeks. They were delivered once a week, every Wednesday.”

  “Uh, they arrived a day early this week,” Detective Adams said, as if making an observation.

  Sam glanced over at Blade. The card had been passed around and now he was reading it. She could feel the anger raging in him. It was hard to believe his rage was directed toward her assailant and not her.

  “So why didn’t you contact the police when the flowers started coming?”

  She shifted her gaze from Blade back to Detective Adams, who was watching her closely. “I saw no reason to.”

  “And why not?”

  She frowned. The man was asking a lot of questions and she had to remind herself that he was merely doing his job. She met his inquisitive gaze. “Because I thought I knew who was sending them.”

  “And who did you think was sending them?”

  “Really, Detective Adams,” she said, giving him an exasperated look. “Do you need to know all that?”

  “If you want me to help you stay alive.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I’m the one she thought was sending her the flowers,” Blade said, in a voice that was deep and controlled.

  Sam glanced over at him, as did everyone else in the room, including Detective Adams. He studied Blade and it was easy to tell he was sizing him up, seeing him in a whole new light. Now as a possible suspect.

  “But you didn’t send them?” the detective asked, his penetrating stare trained directly on Blade.

  Blade stared right back. His eyes were just as unwavering. “No, I didn’t send them.”

  “And you have no idea who did?”

  “No,” he stated firmly.

  Detective Adams nodded before glancing back at Sam. “Do you have any reason not to believe him?”

  Sam looked at Blade and studied his features, got caught up in the eyes staring back at her. Although he’d come, he was still mad. He hadn’t gotten over the stunt she’d pulled last night. And in a way she probably had hurt him. Probably not emotionally, but for most men their ego was just as real as any living thing. It could easily get bruised. And then there was male pride that could be just as easily wounded. She had pretty much trampled on both. She had tried to play him the way he’d played others. Sooner or later he would try getting back at her, she had no doubt of that. But he wouldn’t try it this way. He wouldn’t stoop that low.

  “Ms. Di Meglio?”

  She blinked and looked back at Detective Adams. “Yes?”

  “I asked if you had any reason not to believe Mr. Madaris.” He smiled, remembering there were three of them in the room, and added, “Blade Madaris.”

  She shook her head. “No, there’s no reason not to believe him.” She then chuckled and said, “He might think he wants to wring my neck about now, but he would never intentionally hurt me.”

  “And you know that for sure?”

  She pulled in a deep breath, refusing to acknowledge Blade’s presence, and responded to the detective’s question. “Yes, I know that for certain.”

  The muscles in Blade’s neck knotted, and it had taken all he had not to hit something after reading the card that had come with the flowers. Who in the hell had sent it to her? Evidently it was the same person who’d been sending her the other flowers for six weeks. A se
cret admirer, so she’d thought. She had been damn wrong about that. And she had been wrong in assuming it had been him.

  Detective Adams was still asking her some routine questions. She was answering them, but already Blade’s mind was focused on what she wasn’t telling the officer. As far as he was concerned, there were a number of men who could have put her at the top of their shit list, if what she’d claimed last night was true. She was a player hater who took pride in seeking revenge. In his book that wasn’t a reason to want to bump her off, but there were a lot of people walking around who were not playing with a full deck.

  Detective Adams stood and closed his writing pad. “I plan to contact the florist. I know you said the flowers were ordered over the Internet. Still, there’s a way for us to track a credit-card payment.”

  “So what should she do now?” Mac asked.

  “Watch her back,” the detective replied quickly. “I know you already have a security team set up here and that’s good. You might want them to make sure no one gets through unless they have appointments, and I suggest that you don’t work late for a while. Leave when everyone else leaves, and if you do work late have one of the security guards walk you to your car. And you might want to—”

  “Hold up. Time out,” Blade interrupted. “There may be a lunatic on the loose, trying to kill her and for now it’s going to be business as usual?”

  Detective Adams turned to Blade. “Basically yes, since she refuses to have us make a big deal out of it. We can’t get fingerprints off the card, since practically everyone’s hand has been on it.”

  Detective Adams then turned to Sam. “Where do you live?”

  “Windsor Park.”

  It was obvious from his expression that he was familiar with the complex and impressed. “That’s a good place to live. It’s a gated community, almost like a fortress. I don’t know the last time anyone from the police department had to respond to a crime there. They have an excellent security system set up. The president would be safe there without the Secret Service, they’re that good.”

  “Yes, but she isn’t in that gated community twenty-four hours a day,” Peyton said. “She will be pretty secure here and at home, but what about the distance in between?”

  Detective Adams shrugged his shoulders. “If she doesn’t want police protection, I suggest she hire a bodyguard.”

  Moments after Detective Adams left, everyone in Sam’s office sat around staring at the vase of flowers on her desk. How could something so beautiful carry such an ugly message?

  Still, the flowers were pretty, a mix of fresh roses, sunflowers, lilies, daisy poms and other varieties Sam couldn’t name, and all beautifully arranged inside a green glass vase. There was nothing about the flowers that would indicate the person who’d sent them was devious rather than thoughtful.

  Sam checked her watch and then pushed back from her desk to stand. She didn’t want to look at the flowers any longer. “I’m going out to grab some lunch,” she said.

  Five pairs of eyes shifted to her and stared. She put her arms across her chest. “Don’t any of you even think it.”

  “And what do you think we’re thinking?” Luke asked.

  She lifted her chin. “That one of you, possibly all of you, intend to be my shadow.”

  “And you have a problem with that?” Blade asked.

  Sam’s gaze slowly moved to him. He was glaring at her and she glared right back. She couldn’t help the cynical smile that touched her lips. “What’s in this for you, Blade? We’re not exactly bosom buddies. In fact, the last time we talked we decided that we don’t even like each other, especially after last night.”

  Too late she’d realized she had said the wrong thing, and quickly wondered why she’d said it at all. She had wanted to strike out at something and he was an easy target. The dark eyes staring at her became darker and his jaw tightened. His hands were opening and closing in tight fists, and she wondered if he’d decided to wring her neck, after all.

  He slowly turned to the others and said in a rather calm voice, “Excuse us a moment. Sam and I need to have a private conversation.”

  It was on the tip on her tongue to say no, they didn’t need to have anything, but then she changed her mind. It was best to get it over and done with now. She’d thought last night was the end of things, but apparently it wasn’t.

  None of the others, she noted, seemed inclined to hang back. Luke, however, leaned over and whispered in Blade’s ear, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “Hey, man. Go easy on her. Remember, until they catch this guy you’re still a suspect.”

  Blade’s eyes sharpened, but hers rolled. She was glad when Mac all but shoved him out the door. When the door closed behind them, Sam decided to sit back down in her chair. If Blade wanted to stand during their confrontation, that was his business.

  “So, what do we have to talk about?” she asked.

  He didn’t say anything for a long while. He just stood there and stared at her.

  “Well, I’m waiting and I don’t have all day, Blade.”

  She knew she was goading him again, deliberately being a pain in the ass. But for some reason she couldn’t help it. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Last night should have been the last she’d seen of him, at least for a good while. He was a player and she had played him. He was supposed to hate her guts. He should be spitting on the ground she walked on, or better yet, sticking pins in a voodoo doll that bore her likeness.

  But instead he was here. He had all but burst into her office like a madman, as if he was a former lover or even her current one. The entire time Detective Adams sat asking her questions, he’d stood across the room, propped against the wall with his eyes glued to her.

  “Why didn’t you tell Detective Adams everything, Sam?”

  She logged off her computer and then turned and looked at him. “Everything like what?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Like how you like getting your kicks as a player hater by playing guys. Did you ever think doing that kind of crap might catch up to you one day? Did it ever cross your mind that somewhere along the way you might have pissed some guy off big-time?”

  She rolled her eyes, something she’d found herself doing a lot around him. “Hey, Blade, it’s not that serious. Does every woman you dump come gunning for you?”

  He came around the desk and pulled back her chair and then pinned her in with his arms braced on both sides. He leaned down, in her face, and nailed her with his gaze, as if he wanted to make sure he had her absolute attention.

  “How many times do I have to tell you that the women I get involved with know the score?” he said in a clipped tone. “I don’t play those kinds of games with women. They know what I want from them. They also know what I don’t want, which is a commitment of any kind. And if they somehow get it into their heads that they can change me along the way, then it’s their fault for thinking it and not mine. Not all players are dogs, so don’t blame me for what some other guy did to you, Sam. I don’t appreciate it and I won’t accept it.”

  A caustic comeback was just on the tip of her tongue. She thought about telling him that she didn’t give a damn what he didn’t appreciate or accept, but something stopped her. Maybe it was because she realized just how close those sexy and kissable lips of his were to hers. It could have been his heated breath that warmed her skin. Or maybe it was the memory of those lips on her breasts, her belly, between her legs, inside of her, that suddenly made a shudder run through her body. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter, because she was sure that he felt it, as well. He’d once said her body had the ability to send him vibes. Evidently it was doing so now. There was a change in his eyes, in his breathing and in the way he looked at her. At that moment she knew that she was his main focus.

  She tried to shift her body in the chair and wished she hadn’t when her knee accidentally brushed against his crotch. She felt his erection—hard and massive. Her throat tightened and she tried to look away, but found she cou
ldn’t. The gaze holding hers was intense, almost daring her to avert her eyes even a fraction. And she couldn’t. Instead she sat there, staring as intently into his eyes as he was staring into hers. She felt the heat rise between her legs, wetting her panties, sending fierce sensations all the way to her womb.

  And then she remembered just how it felt to have him inside of her. Although he hadn’t gone in all the way, he had gone in deep and far enough for her to commit to memory what he’d felt like. At that moment, that was what her mind was dredging up. The feel of him inside of her, how her inner muscles had clamped hold of him, ready to pull everything out of him.

  It would be so easy to just go ahead and reach out and unzip his pants, and pull out his aroused body part, shift her position in the chair, prop her legs on her desk if she had to, and lead him inside of her, to finish what they’d started last night. She could just imagine him gripping her hips with his hands, leaning forward, flexing his lower body to push all the way to her womb. She’d never been taken in her office before, although she’d fantasized about it several times. And he’d always been the man she figured that she would be crazy enough to risk doing such a thing with.

  If the chair got to be too uncomfortable, he could always move her to the desk, spread her legs, get on top of her and pump his way inside of her. He could hold her body immobile while he thrust back and forth like nobody’s business, and make her come all over the place, all over him. And likewise, he would come, too. She could just imagine the feel of his hot semen shooting inside of her.

  She clenched her thighs together, wondering if a woman could have an orgasm in broad daylight just thinking about what a man could do to her. She heard herself moan and realized from the look in Blade’s eyes that he’d heard it, as well. Before she could pull in her next breath he responded to her moan with a guttural growl, just seconds before slamming his mouth down on hers.

  He didn’t mean to kiss her. In fact, he had decided after last night that he wouldn’t come within ten feet of her again. But there was something about Samari Di Meglio that got to him on a level no other woman could. She had done more than just get under his skin. She had gotten into other places in his body, as well. Places he didn’t want to think about now.