Michael: The Defender

by JoAnn Ross

  “Of course you will.” Because he wanted to take her in his arms and promise that he’d keep her safe always, Michael backed away from temptation. “Call if you need anything.”

  Lorelei watched him walk out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Then she lowered her face in her hands and began to sob silently, giving in to the earlier shock and her turmoiled emotions.

  Finally, she was cried out. The fragrant steam rising from the bathtub drew her like a siren’s song, promising warmth and comfort. Pushing herself to her feet, she took off the rest of the ridiculous Officer Extremely Friendly stripper costume, vowing to burn it at the first opportunity.

  She was leaning against the puffy bath pillow, luxuriating in the way the warm water soothed her nerves and numbed her mind when a knock on the bathroom door jerked her from a daydream of making love with Michael on a sun-drenched Tahitian beach.

  “Come in.”

  Michael was hit with the sultry scent as soon as he opened the door. The room was as fragrant and steamy as a tropical rain forest and the sight of her, up to her shoulders in a thick layer of frothy iridescent bubbles, her pale hair pinned haphazardly atop her head, was enough to drive any man mad. Michael almost swallowed his tongue.

  “I thought you might like some tea.”

  “Thank you.” Her smile was warm, but distant. Almost guarded. “In the movies the hero always gives the heroine brandy after the bad guys almost kill her.”

  “That’s in the movies. I figured tea would be better than pouring alcohol on already tattered nerve endings. But I can get some brandy from the minibar, if you’d prefer it.”

  “No, this is fine.” When she held out her hand, bubbles dripped from her bare arm.

  He handed her the cup, resisting the urge to pull her out of the silky, perfumed water.

  Suppressing an almost overwhelming desire to pull him into the tub with her, Lorelei took a sip. She sighed, as if she’d just tasted ambrosia, rather than sweetened cinnamon-spiced tea.

  “This is perfect. Thank you,” she said again.

  “You’re welcome.” Knowing that he should leave, now, before they got into trouble, he sat down on the edge of the tub and picked up the loofah sponge from the tile shelf behind the bath pillow. “Turn around. I’ll wash your back.”

  “Gracious.” She took another, longer drink of tea, suddenly wishing it was something stronger. Her nerves, which had begun to be soothed by the hot water, were tangling all over again. “Is it standard operating procedure to perform such personal services for all the women you’re hired to protect?”

  He dipped the sponge beneath the layer of suds, then squeezed it in his palm, allowing the water to stream over her shoulder. “You’re the first.”

  Their eyes met. And held. And in that suspended moment, both knew there’d be no turning back.

  “Well.” Lorelei let out a shaky breath. “In that case, how can I refuse such a gallant offer?”

  He moved the rough sponge over the smooth expanse of porcelain flesh and thought about the time he’d flown to Las Vegas to bring back a prisoner. At Caesar’s Palace, the night before he was scheduled to pick up the burglar at the county jail, Michael had won ten dollars playing blackjack, lost another twenty in the slots, and had bought two overpriced beers at the Cleopatra’s Barge bar. At the time, he’d decided that Vegas was a town for suckers. There was no way a guy could come out a winner.

  Now, looking at Lorelei sitting amidst the glistening bubbles, he had the same feeling. When it came to resisting the charms of this woman he’d never really stopped loving, there was no way he could win; the odds were stacked against him.

  He dropped his hand.

  “Michael?” She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes wide and maddeningly innocent. “Is something wrong?”

  He was about to lie to her, to brush off her concern, to assure her that everything was just jim-dandy. Other than some sicko trying to kill her. Along with the salient little fact that he’d been feeling as if he’d stumbled into quicksand from the time she’d first stepped off that plane.

  “Yeah...you terrify me,” he surprised them both by saying.

  “What?” Her shock was not feigned. “I terrify you?” She hadn’t thought anything could ever frighten this man. Looking up at him, taking in his intense, dark eyes and grimly set lips, it was almost impossible to believe how gentle she knew he could be.

  “Not you, exactly,” he all but growled, reminding her of a cranky lion. “The way you make me feel.”

  “Ah.” Now that she could understand. “News flash, O’Malley,” she murmured, running the back of her hand down his steely set jaw. “If we’re talking about feelings, then you scare me to death, too.”

  His heart clenched. Michael tried to remember how to draw air in and out of his lungs. “Perhaps we just ought back off. Get used to the idea.”

  “We could do that,” she agreed quietly. Her hand trailed down his neck, then smoothed over the wide shoulder she felt tense beneath her touch. “Or, you could make love to me. The way I’ve been dying for you to do.”

  It would be so damn easy. The problem was, Michael had never trusted anything easy. “Lorelei—”

  “You saved my life today, Michael.” She pressed her palm against his chest, her eyes held his with the unwavering strength of her need. “Now I need you to help me feel alive again.”

  “So, I’m to consider this an act of charity?”

  Needs were building, higher and more insistent than anything she’d felt before. Lorelei decided if by some inhuman act of will Michael actually managed to resist her seduction efforts, she might truly die. “If it helps you get beyond your stupid rule, I can live with that.”

  Marveling that she could manage a joke after all she’d been through today, and knowing that there was no way he was going to be able to keep resisting what she wanted—what they both wanted—Michael threw in the towel.

  Lorelei sighed. Her arms crept around his neck.

  He brushed a kiss at the corner of her mouth. “With all the changes, you taste just the same.”

  “Tell me.” Her lips curved, pleased. “Tell me how I taste.”

  “I wouldn’t think Hollywood’s most gorgeous sex goddess would need to dig for compliments.”

  Rewarded by the humor in his deep voice, Lorelei felt her heart take wings. “All women need compliments, O’Malley.” She shivered as his skimming mouth paused at her ear, his teeth nipping gently at the tender lobe. “Even gorgeous sex goddesses.”

  He touched the tip of his tongue to a sensitive spot behind her ear that no other man had ever discovered. “You want compliments?” He slipped a hand beneath the melting bubbles to cup her breast, the intimate touch causing her to begin trembling all over again. He touched his mouth to hers. “Sometimes you taste like sunshine...like spring rains.... Then there are those other times...”

  He released her mouth, watched her tongue slip out to skim lightly over her lips, as if wanting to recapture his taste.

  “Other times?” Her heart skipped a beat as he stroked the roughened pad of his thumb over her nipple, while taking her mouth in a longer, deeper, drugging kiss that made her head spin and her bones melt.

  “Other times you taste like temptation. Hot and dark and rich as brandy-spiked chicory coffee.” It was his turn to skim his tongue over her lips. Down her throat. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, Lorelei.”

  It was what she’d been waiting to hear. Lorelei kissed him back. A hard, anxious kiss blazing with emotion.

  Take me. The words echoed in her head like the toll of the warning buoys out in the gulf; there was no need to say them out loud. They shimmered in her sigh, radiated from the fingertips of her slender hands fretting over his shoulders, up and down his back. Take me.

  Michael readily obliged. He dragged her from the cooling water and holding her against him, chest to chest, thighs to thighs, mouth to mouth, he stumbled out of the bathroom toward the bed.


  Not caring that she was dripping all over the carpeting, heedless of the fact that they were about to get the silk smooth Egyptian cotton sheets wet, he fell onto the bed, pulling her with him.

  He’d wanted to be gentle. Had planned to take her slowly, to show her that some things were worth waiting for. But needs that had been pent up too long burst free, like a storm-swollen river over the levee. He rolled over, pressing her into the mattress as he took her breast in his mouth. When her shocked gasp filtered through the roaring in his head, Michael struggled to pull back.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t you dare apologize.” Her own fingers were tearing at his shirt, scattering buttons to all the corners of the room. Lorelei tasted passion and reveled in it She exuded recklessness that fired his own desperate hunger. “I want you, Michael. I’ve wanted you forever.”

  She was wild beneath him, every sensuous movement a demand that he take more, go faster. Michael left her only long enough to rip off the shirt she’d torn and rid himself of the rest of his clothes. Then he was back, braceleting both her wrists in one hand, holding them above his head.

  His free hand cupped the source of heat, ruthlessly sending her soaring. She peaked instantly, bucking against his touch, her back arched bowstring tight.

  Even as she poured over his hand, he was whipping her up again, higher, harder. The second climax left her shuddering, but it still wasn’t enough.

  “Lorelei.”

  She murmured something incoherent, tossing her head on the pillow in a way that shook the pins loose and made her hair tumble down over her shoulders and breasts.

  “Look at me.”

  Although it took a herculean effort, she dragged her lids open and found herself staring into an intense blue fire so hot it was almost blinding.

  “You’re mine.” He thrust his fingers into the moist heat, making her cry out as another hot wave swamped her. “You’ve always been mine.”

  “Yours.” The single word was torn from her throat, a ragged thread of sound. Desperate to touch him, as he was touching her, Lorelei nearly wept with relief when he released her hands.

  “Yours,” she repeated as she curled her fingers around his sex and made him moan.

  Her stroking touch nearly made him explode. There was a clash of teeth as his mouth ate into hers. He dug his fingers into her hips, lifted her up, pulled her warm silk thighs apart to open her fully. Then with a thrust of his hips, he plunged into her, deep and hard, all the way to the hilt.

  She cried out again, in pleasure, not pain, then wrapped her long legs around his hips, holding him in a viselike grip as he hammered into her, driving her deeper and deeper into the mattress, every thrust touching her in places no man had ever touched, until they were both engulfed in a white-hot rush of sensation. Her fingers digging into the rigid flesh of his back, Lorelei hung on for dear life as they rode out the storm together.

  Feeling as if he’d been turned inside out, Michael collapsed on top of her. Neither of them said a word for a long, long time. There was only the rough sound of unsteady breathing to break the silence. The earthy, redolent scent of their lovemaking mingled with the fragrance of flowers emanating from her damp skin.

  “Are we still alive?” Michael asked against her throat.

  Lorelei thought about that and decided that the pulsating waves that were still rippling between her legs was a very good sign. “I think so.”

  “Good.” Afraid he was crushing her, he rolled over onto his side, taking her with him.

  “Well,” she murmured, “that was certainly worth waiting for.”

  It took what little breath he had left to laugh. “Talk about living up to your billing.” He ran a hand down her back, over the tight round curve of her bottom. “You really are terrific.”

  Lorelei was faintly hurt by his assumption that what they’d just experienced was even vaguely normal for her. Although she didn’t really have the energy to argue, she did feel the need to set the record straight.

  “It’s never been like that before,” she said, nuzzling against him.

  “Yeah, I imagine most guys would have the control to dry you off first.” Now that his head was beginning to clear, Michael became aware of the damp sheets.

  “That’s not what I mean.” It was an effort to get the words out. “I mean that I’ve never felt... I’ve never had so many... Usually, I’m lucky to have one...” She realized she was stammering and wondered why life didn’t come with your own personal screenwriter for these difficult conversations. “Never mind.”

  “Don’t stop now.” Michael grinned as he left the bed, then bent down and scooped her into his arms. “You’re doing wonders for my ego.”

  “I’m so glad.” As if any man who could make a woman feel so spectacular would need help with his ego. “Where are we going?” she asked as he carried her across the living room.

  “Back to bed. A dry bed.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t even noticed the bed had gotten wet. “You’re a very clever man to have gotten the second bedroom.”

  “More ego strokes.” He laughed, feeling unreasonably lighthearted as he stripped the brocade spread off the queen-size bed. “What a great woman.”

  This time he laid her on the mattress with more caution than before and for a long, delicious time, they indulged in the slow kisses and tender touches they hadn’t taken time for earlier.

  “I can’t believe how you make me feel,” she sighed as his wickedly slow hands made every atom in her body hum.

  “How’s that?” He pressed his lip to the little heart-shaped birthmark at the base of her spine.

  She exhaled a slow rippling sigh of pleasure. “Like I’m floating about three feet above this bed.”

  “That’s a start.” He skimmed his tongue up her spine. “Let’s see if we can make you fly.”

  As the night grew longer and the kisses grew deeper, Lorelei discovered that Michael O’Malley was definitely a man of his word.

  11

  LORELEI WAS ROUSED from a light sleep by the insistent ringing of the phone.

  “Let me,” Michael said, reaching over her as she groped blindly for the bedside telephone. “Just in case... Yeah?”

  Amazingly, during the marvelous love-filled night she’d forgotten all about her stalker. Now, reality came crashing down on her again and Lorelei felt every muscle in her body tense as she watched Michael hitch himself up in bed.

  “Yeah.” He nodded even as he bent his head and brushed a kiss against her tightly set lips. The light kiss assured her that whoever was on the other end of the line didn’t represent a problem. “Yeah, I’ll tell her.” He ran his hand down her back as she snuggled close. “We’ll be here another couple of hours. Then I’m moving her someplace else. No point in setting her up as a target if it’s not necessary.” He hung up the receiver.

  “Who was that?”

  “Taylor. He called off today’s shooting.”

  “Can he afford to do that?”

  “That’s not really your problem,” Michael replied. “Don’t look a gift day off in the mouth.... Meanwhile,” he pulled her on top of him, “where were we?”

  Much, much later, they were sitting at the table in the living room. Never much of a breakfast eater, she’d ordered strawberries and cream and a croissant which was flaky and so buttery she feared it undoubtedly had as many calories as the beignets she’d been eating. Strangely, she couldn’t seem to care. Michael had a more robust appetite. As she watched him eat his way through an order of eggs sardou, grits and redeye gravy, fried potatoes and thick slabs of tasso, a tangy smoked ham spiced with red pepper, she decided that after the energy he’d used up making love to her all night, he undoubtedly needed the rejuvenating meal.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “I thought I’d take you to my place. Since it’s obvious that whoever is after you is part of the crew, you’re a sitting duck staying here.”

  “Your place?” The scarlet strawberry,
nearly as large as a baby’s fist, paused on the way to her mouth. “In the bayou?”

  “Nah. The cabin’s still out there, but it’d be too hard to keep coming back in for filming—”

  “So you’re not going to argue about that,” she murmured. “I was wondering.”

  “About what?”

  “I thought you might try to stop me from finishing the movie.”

  “I don’t like the idea of putting you at risk again,” he admitted with a frown. He put down his fork, braced his elbows on the table and linked his fingers together. “But I can understand you feel a commitment to honor your contract.”

  “Thank you. That’s very understanding of you.”

  “I have my moments.”

  Although she knew she was venturing into dangerous territory, there was something Lorelei had to know. “What happens after the film wraps?”

  He shrugged. “You’ll go back to L.A. Get on with your life.”

  It wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t honestly what he intended. Not really. But Michael didn’t figure that this was any time to get into an argument about their future. Besides, he reminded himself, she’d worked hard to establish herself in Hollywood. Why would she consider giving that all up? Even if they were great together—make that world-class—in bed.

  Lorelei had been prepared for an argument. She’d even planned a pretty little speech about how she knew that it wasn’t going to be easy, juggling her career in Hollywood and his here in New Orleans. But they were intelligent people, she’d planned to say. They could work something out. His casual attitude, after the night they’d shared, stung.

  “Are you trying to dump me again?”

  “Of course not. I was just saying that—What the hell do you mean, again?”

  “Well, although I’m not one to hold a grudge, you can’t deny that you were the one who wanted to break up in the first place all those years ago.”

  “Me?” Color rose from his collar. Fire flashed in his eyes. “You obviously have a rotten memory, sweetheart. Because I wasn’t the one who refused to answer all those letters. And who wouldn’t come to the phone all Thanksgiving weekend.”