Their daylong outing into town had turned into a shopping spree since Amanda had persuaded her into practically updating her complete wardrobe. Emma hadn’t minded letting her sister pick out most of her clothes, yet when it came to selecting something for her special date with Mike, she put a halt to some of her outlandish choices.
She’d tried on several dresses in styles ranging from formal-down-to-her-ankles black, to something short and daring in pink. In the end, she opted for simple elegance in the way of a short, sleeveless black dress with a matching beaded jacket. The cut of the dress, with its scooped neckline and split from hem to mid thigh was designed to keep a man interested, though Emma didn’t think Mike needed any encouragement in that area.
Intuition told her the outcome of their evening would be a significant turning point in their relationship.
When the night of the dance finally arrived, she kept her makeup at a minimum, taking special care in dabbing a touch of her favorite perfume behind each ear and exposed cleavage. She smiled as a wicked thought prompted her to place some behind the curve of her knees as well.
The full-length mirror provided her with a thorough view of what Mike was going to see when she opened the front door. The black dress stopped way above her knees, fitting her form like a soft glove and showing her shape to an advantage.
Her workouts were paying off. The bodice complimented her rounded breasts while the tight waistline accentuated her waist, flowing like a midnight waterfall over her shapely hips. Black silk stockings encased her legs, producing a naughty image when she thought about them. They’d been a last-minute purchase Amanda had talked her into. She’d never owned a pair of real stockings before and had to admit that the look of them with the garter belt and three-inch heels made her legs appear long and sexy.
Emma wondered what Mike would think as she slipped on a pair of dangling garnet earrings. She wanted to know, but was she brave enough to face the consequences dressing provocatively would reveal? Yes, she was more than ready for the sexy detective’s response.
Brushing her hair, she grabbed an antique comb decorated with garnet stones and clipped it on top of her head in a casual fashion that left several strands of loose curls against her neck.
As she slipped into the jacket, she glanced at the clock, expecting the doorbell to ring at any time.
* * * *
Mike turned off the ignition and sat in his truck for a few minutes, staring at Emma’s door while wondering for the hundredth time what he’d gotten himself into. Inviting her to the dance had been a spur-of-the-moment thing and at the time had seemed right. He’d needed a date and up until that point his only possibilities had either been Melissa, or the little old lady who handed him his mail every morning at the local post office.
He’d picked up the phone several times during the last few days to call and cancel; the policeman’s dance wasn’t something he usually attended anyway. He didn’t mind being appreciated but show it in his paycheck. Besides, he hated dressing up. Yet there he was because he hadn’t followed through with his plans to cancel.
In the end he couldn’t do that to Emma. It wasn’t her fault he found her sexy or that every time they were together it led to a session of hot sex. Only he was honest enough to admit his feelings had grown to include something a hell of a lot more than satisfying just an itch.
Somehow without realizing it he found himself at her front door. He rang the bell, the feeling in his gut similar to the excitement he’d experienced when he’d had his first kiss in grade school. Hell, he was already growing warm with the anticipation of where this evening would end.
He saw Emma’s shadow pass by the semi-sheer curtains. And then she was opening the door with a welcoming smile on her beautiful face the size of the sun. And lord she was beautiful. Mike tried to swallow but a lump lodged in his throat. His eyes raked over her with hunger, starting from the top of her head all the way down to her slender ankles and those sexy high heels. His cock was quick to show his appreciation.
His first instinct was to grab her and kiss her breathless but he knew what a colossal mistake that would be. They’d never make it to the dance because if he kissed her, he wasn’t going to let her go. He tried like hell to ignore the lower half of his body and the fact that it was pounding painfully behind a tight zipper. And he’d thought he had control? These days he was acting like a randy teenager.
“Good evening,” Emma said and beamed prettily, her eyes shining with a sparkle of happiness that held him bewitched. She stepped back so Mike could enter. “You look good enough to eat, Detective.”
Mike nearly swallowed his tongue, as thoughts of licking her sweet pussy came to mind. She was so responsive. “Then you’d definitely be the dessert.” He hesitated from walking past the threshold. “You’re breathtaking.”
Her smile widened. “Why thank you. Are you coming in or are we leaving right away?”
“I think it’s safer if we go now.” The secretive smile in her eyes made him nervous, like she knew something he didn’t. “Unless you’re not ready?”
“Just let me get my purse.”
When Emma turned to retrieve it from the kitchen countertop Mike’s gaze fell, taking in the provocative swing of her backside before sliding down the backs of her million dollar legs. He closed his eyes, but that only sharpened his other senses. The tantalizing scent she left behind made him ravenous¼dizzy.
“Are you okay?”
He opened his eyes to see the concern reflected on her face as she came closer. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, instead reaching forward to take her gently by the arm. As he ushered her outside he closed the door, making sure it was locked.
“Is that little jacket going to be enough?” he asked as they walked to his truck. The weather didn’t call for snow but the temperature had dropped considerably.
“I hadn’t thought of that; maybe I better go back and get one for later.”
As she moved to turn, Mike grabbed her arm, halting her. Ignoring her soft gasp, he swung her around until she was facing him. For a moment he allowed himself the luxury of leaning against his truck and pulling her close. He knew he was courting trouble but he wanted to feel her against him.
“Forget it, I’ll keep you warm,” he commented, drawing in a long breath. “Damn, you smell good.”
His head came down just before his lips touched hers. He meant it to be brief but once their lips were meshed pulling away was the last thing on his mind. He crushed Emma against his aroused body, groaning weakly when she opened her mouth and allowed his tongue inside. He thrust his cock against her roughly before finding the strength to pull away.
“Hell, sweetheart, you make me forget everything. We’d better get going.”
He opened the truck door but Emma hesitated, pinning him with those smoky eyes of hers. Her silky tone was serious, slightly disappointed. And very seductive.
“That was just getting good, too.”
“You want to go dancing?” She nodded, a mischievous look spreading across her features. She knew, damn her! “Then don’t tempt me,” he said gruffly.
“But…”
“And if I were you, I’d keep quiet until we get to the dance.” He quickly ushered her inside. “I just might be able to pretend you’re not sitting next to me and concentrate long enough to make it there without an accident.”
Her soft laughter filled the cab of the truck, and Mike’s heart.
* * * *
Emma watched Mike walk around the front of the truck, smiling at the fierce expression stamped on his handsome face and wondering what put it there. Her comment about him looking good enough to eat was an understatement. He cleaned up nice. Not that he looked all that unappealing in casual or regular clothes, but in formal attire he made her think of Cinderella’s Prince Charming. She glanced down at her black heels with a quirky grin, wondering if she’d be losing more than her shoes that night. If she had her way she would.
Sighing heavily, she set
tled back against the seat, determined to respect Mike’s wishes and remain quiet. Sooner or later he’d have to talk to her. For a while she watched the scenery, glad the radio was on to drown out the silence. She listened to several country western songs before peeking at Mike from the corner of her eye. He appeared to be concentrating so hard on driving that she might as well not be there.
Suddenly Emma couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “I see you got your window repaired.” She rolled her eyes at the inept comment, not exactly what she had on her mind to draw him into conversation.
He shot her a look of amusement, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. “A couple weeks ago,” he confirmed.
Has it been that long? “Oh.” She grew quiet for a moment. “Did you ever catch the person who took a shot at us?”
Again Mike spared her a tolerant glance. “No, and do we really want to talk about something that happened almost a month ago?”
Just as she opened her mouth to reply, his cell phone rang.
“Yeah?”
She watched his changing expression, sensing that whoever was on the other end of the line was telling him something he didn’t want to hear. He didn’t say much, making a few sounds that indicated he understood before finally responding, “I’m five minutes away; I’ll be right there.”
Even before he turned her way Emma figured their evening was about to change. He pressed his foot to the gas, slightly accelerating their speed.
“That was Mrs. Dawson; she stays with Melissa when I have to go out nights. Melissa’s sick. We’ll swing by to check it out.”
“I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Me too, Melissa’s never sick.”
He offered her an apologetic smile.
“I hate to say it but there’s a good possibility tonight’s off. Maybe I should drive you home first.”
“Nonsense. We’re closer to your home than mine. Besides, if she’s sick there might be something I can do to help.”
“Thanks. If I know Mrs. Dawson, she’ll want to take off as soon as I get there. She’s a sweet old lady but a hypochondriac—wears a surgical mask out in public and everything.”
Chapter 19
Before long, Mike pulled off onto a driveway marked private. The dark winding road was nothing more than a strip of gravel with a ribbon of low-cut grass running down the center of it. Green pines and maples blanketed in leaves the color of autumn, and white birch trees stood tall on either side like guardians in the night. Only the maple and birch were losing their leaves in preparation for winter.
An outside light gave Emma a good view of the rustic log cabin that was Mike’s home, which was located in a small clearing at the end of his driveway. Light coming from a large picture window revealed several chairs and a swing on the front porch that went from one corner of the house to the other.
No sooner had they pulled alongside the ancient station wagon parked in front than the screen door opened and a woman appeared in the threshold, wearing a worried expression on her cracked face. She was wringing her hands and looked like she was ready to bolt. Emma guessed her age to be somewhere close to sixty. Her short, plump stature and outdated floral dress were something straight out of the fifties, causing Emma to smile.
Mrs. Dawson waited patiently for them to exit the truck and stride closer to the porch before addressing Mike. “I’m sorry to ruin your evening but Melissa’s definitely not feeling well. It might be the flu or something. I think I should go.”
“Did she say what’s wrong? Does she have a fever?” He frowned, taking the porch steps two at a time.
“No, no fever. She’s complaining that her stomach hurts and she has a headache.” She stepped aside so he and Emma could enter. “It started right after you left. She begged me not to call you but if she has something contagious…”
“Mrs. Dawson, this is Emma Stuart,” Mike continued, walking toward the stairs. “I’ll be right down.”
All of a sudden Emma found herself alone with Mrs. Dawson, who turned for something hanging on a peg on the wall next to the stairs. There was no denying she was eager to leave. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dawson.” Emma placed her evening clutch on the small table next to the door.
“Same here, dearie. It’s been a long time since Mike has brought anyone nice home with him. The last time it was some redhead, please excuse my description, floozy type who dressed like a, well you know,” she whispered the last part, “lady of the evening.” She quickly slipped into her heavy wool coat.
Emma bit her bottom lip to keep it from curving upwards. The last thing she wanted was to insult Mrs. Dawson by laughing at her description of Mike’s date when she sounded so serious about it.
“I’m sure what ails Melissa is nothing serious but a woman my age can’t be too careful you know, what with the cost of health care these days.” She reached for a large black purse the size of a small suitcase. “Mike will understand that I can’t stay after this; please tell him to call and let me know how Melissa is.” She headed for the door without a backward glance. “The poor dear.”
Before Emma knew it, she was left standing at the door, watching Mrs. Dawson’s one taillight as she drove slowly away. Closing the door against the chill, she turned in time to see Mike calmly walking down the stairs. He didn’t seem surprised to find her alone.
“I take it Mrs. Dawson couldn’t wait to fly out of here?” His hands made short work at pulling off his jacket and laying it over the banister.
Emma’s nod confirmed it. “How’s Melissa?”
The look on his face gave his frustration away. “She says the same thing Mrs. Dawson said, that she has a bellyache but hasn’t been sick or anything.” He absentmindedly began tugging at his tie.
Emma stepped forward when he finally reached the bottom of the stairs, reaching for it. Their eyes met briefly as she began to work the knot loose.
“What’s wrong, Mike? You don’t seem convinced of that.” She slowly pulled the tie from around his neck. He took it from her, surprising her by draping it around her neck and jerking her close.
“I’m not sure. She acted kind of strange, distant, for lack of a better word. Reluctant to discuss it other than to say she’d be okay and for me not to worry. I left her curled up in a little ball watching TV.”
“A stomachache, huh?” Something clicked in Emma’s mind. Melissa was at that age where she could be experiencing her first time, which she knew, could be a very unpleasant and frightening experience. Especially for a young girl who didn’t have someone around to talk to about it. She leaned forward, kissing Mike on the chin before realizing what she was doing. “Would you like me to go up and see her?”
He seemed immediately relieved. “Would you mind? I have a feeling…” He glanced away nervously.
Is he blushing? “I think we have the same feeling,” she said softly, smiling in the face of his uncertain expression.
“I’m sorry your evening was ruined. I can’t even get you home now, but I can call someone.”
“My evening isn’t ruined and we’ll discuss how I’m going to get home later,” she cut in, turning to go up the stairs. “Which door?”
“Second on the left.”
Knowing Mike’s eyes were following her as she went upstairs, Emma purposely exaggerated the sway of her hips for his entertainment. His appreciative whistle was her reward and she tossed him a come hither look over her shoulder, blowing him a kiss.
“You’re going to pay for that, sweetheart,” he called up to her softly.
“I look forward to it,” she whispered back brazenly, just before reaching Melissa’s door. She hesitated, hoping her presence was welcome. “Melissa?” After knocking softly she opened the door a crack, listening for a response. “It’s Emma. May I come in?”
“Yes.” Her reply was low and pitiful sounding.
Emma closed the door behind her, skirting around the bed to the side Melissa was facing as she watched TV. Offering the girl a sympathetic smile s
he sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you having an unpleasant first time, honey?” She reached out and grasped her hand.
Melissa’s eyes widened as though Emma had just performed a miraculous act or something. “How did you know?” she asked in a hushed tone.
Reaching forward, Emma brushed the hair away from her pale face, noticing she felt a little warm in spite of what Mrs. Dawson said. “A lucky guess. You’re at that age.”
Melissa made a face and clutched her belly.
“Is there a heating pad in the house?”
“I think there’s one in the hall closet. Dad sometimes uses it on his leg.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Emma found the hallway closet without any trouble, rummaging through the neat contents until she spied the heating pad at the bottom in a basket. After grabbing it she went to the bathroom and searched the medicine cabinet to see what Mike had in there for pain.
“Have you taken anything for the cramps yet?” she asked Melissa upon entering the room again. Shaking her head negatively, Emma handed her the pills she’d found, reaching for the glass of water sitting on the nightstand. “Take these, honey, they’ll help.”
“Will it be like this every month?” she whined in exaggerated misery, putting the empty glass down.
Emma smiled, quickly averting her face in the pretext of looking for an outlet for the heating pad. “It shouldn’t be now that you know how to treat it. The heating pad works wonders.” She sat back on the bed and set it on low. “This little trick is fail proof. Lie on your back, bend your knees and place this pad on your lower belly. The heat will draw out the pain and after awhile the cramps will be gone.”
Melissa did as she was instructed, allowing Emma to arrange one of the spare pillows beneath her knees. “Thank you.”
Emma sat back, smiling down at her. “Anytime, honey, I’m glad I was around to help. Your dad was worried about you.”
“I was too embarrassed to tell him,” she admitted, blushing. “I tried to keep it from Mrs. Dawson but once she suspected I wasn’t feeling well, I knew she’d call him. She has this phobia about being around sick people.”
PASSIONATE ENCOUNTERS Page 17
