“So this is where you ran off to, Jules.”
She muttered a low curse and turned around. Why was Dalton pretending he’d been looking for her? She drew in a deep breath and intended to be pleasant even if it killed her. “I was enjoying a conversation with Gary. Gary Coughlin, this is Dalton Granger. Jace’s brother,” she said, introducing the two men.
They exchanged handshakes, and it was obvious they were also sizing each other up. She hated admitting it, but she was, too. And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, Dalton had taken over the show.
“So you’re the third brother,” Gary said, smiling.
“Yes, and you know Jace how?” Dalton wanted to know.
Jules rolled her eyes and fought to hold her tongue while Gary provided the same information he’d given her earlier. “Well, Gary, if you don’t mind, I need to talk to Jules privately for a minute.”
Jules was tempted to give Dalton a few harsh words then and there, but figured Gary shouldn’t be party to such a tongue-lashing, so she smiled sweetly up at him. “Gary, we will definitely finish our conversation later. What Dalton and I need to discuss should take less than a minute.”
Dalton’s piercing brown eyes turned on her, and the message she read in them all but said he’d be damned if that was true. With a lot of effort, she tightened her lips until she was sure Gary was out of hearing range. Then she turned on Dalton. “You’ve got one minute.”
Fourteen
Dalton frowned. One minute, his ass. If she thought that was all the time he was going to get, then she was wrong. He had overheard the last part of her conversation with Coughlin. They were in the midst of making plans for hooking up later tonight. He shouldn’t really care what she did with her time, but it really irked him no end that she had no qualms about engaging in an illicit affair with Coughlin, but she flatly refused to give him the time of day. Or, preferably, her night. “I think we need to go somewhere and talk.”
They stood not even a foot away from each other, appearing to square off. He looked down into eyes that were usually dark brown. But tonight in the lanterns around the patio, they appeared a stormy gray. “What on Earth do we have to talk about, Dalton?”
“We need to discuss what you told me last night about your interest in finding the person who killed my mother.”
She glared at him. “Oh, you’re interested in that now, are you? Last night all you wanted to do was fuck me.”
He glared back. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I still want to fuck you. But, at the moment, I want to hear what you have to say about finding my mother’s killer.”
“Too bad, because I don’t feel like talking.”
“Really? What’s wrong? A cat got your tongue?” he sneered, his gaze latching on to her mouth. Why did she have such a luscious pair of lips on that smart-ass mouth?
“Yes, I guess you can say the cat has my tongue,” she replied snippily.
Dalton didn’t like her attitude. Felt it needed adjusting. “Then by all means let me get your tongue back from the damned cat.” And then he drew her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers.
* * *
Pleasure that Jules didn’t want...but definitely needed...filled her entire body the moment Dalton’s tongue slid inside her mouth. And just like the last time, she was consumed in a kiss that had her purring deep in her throat. But then, in a way, the kiss was different. More powerful. Carnal. Possessive. It was as if he were intentionally claiming a part of her while at the same time wiping her desire for any other man from her mind, soul and body.
Mentally, she tried fighting Dalton’s takeover of her senses but found herself sinking deeper and deeper into the kiss. She’d always enjoyed being kissed, and loved the feel of a man’s hand touching her backside while doing so. But Dalton wasn’t just touching it; he was artfully molding it to fit perfectly against his tall frame so she could feel certain parts of him...like his engorged penis. The size, the shape and the way it was pressing hard in the juncture of her thighs was incredible. It would be easy and pretty damned satisfying to reach out and lower his zipper and get what she wanted, just what she needed, to ease the ache that had been driving her to madness lately. The thought of brushing her fingertips across the swollen head of his penis before lifting her skirt and sliding down her panties so he could slide it inside her brought glints of sexual pleasure to eat away at her, causing a delicious shiver to cascade through her body.
To radiate this much mind-boggling power in a kiss was a gift few men possessed, and it was turning her into a wickedly wanton woman. She was beginning to lose her ever-loving mind and wasn’t certain she could turn back.
The clearing of someone’s throat was a harsh intrusion, and she pulled out of Dalton’s arms and looked over her shoulder to see Jace. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt, but your father was looking for you, Jules. I think he’s about to leave and wanted to tell you good-night.” With that said, Jace turned and went back inside.
Jules drew in a deep breath, and with it came Dalton’s masculine scent, which seemed to be all over her, drenching her skin and clothing. “I have to go,” she said, trying to move away quickly and regain her perspective as well as her common sense. She could just imagine what Jace thought.
Dalton reached out and grasped her arm to pull her back into him. “Not so fast. We didn’t finish our conversation.”
She glared up at him. “And whose fault is that?”
“It’s not a question of fault, Jules,” Dalton said in a husky voice. “For us, it has become a question of sanity. You know what I want, and I know what you want. Why are we fighting the inevitable?”
That was a good question, one she wasn’t ready to answer. “I need to go say goodbye to Dad.”
He held firm to her hand. “Come by my place later. We do need to talk.”
She shook her head. “No, not your place.” Not when he’d pretty much spelled out all the areas in his home where he wanted to take her. Just her luck, she’d be weak and needy enough to let him do it.
“Then your place.”
That was even worse. He probably wouldn’t make it over the threshold before she would be tearing the clothes off his body. Especially tonight when she was so wound up for sex. “No. If we need to talk...and only talk...we can do so over coffee at Manning’s parents’ restaurant. They stay open late on the weekends.”
“Who’s Manning?”
“My administrative assistant. And the restaurant isn’t far from here.” She paused. “So far, you’re the only one who knows that I intend to find your mother’s killer. I don’t want anyone else to know just yet, until I finish my preliminary research on the case.”
A deep frown covered his face, and she could tell he hadn’t liked what she’d said. “I don’t like the idea of your getting involved. I told you what happened to the last PI who was hired. You’re placing yourself in danger.”
She shrugged. “Better me than my sister and her unborn child.” She then rattled off the address of the restaurant. “Give me about half an hour, and I’ll meet you there.” And then she quickly left.
Jules paused briefly to glance over her shoulder and saw Dalton following her back inside from the patio. She glanced around and saw Shana wearing one of those I-know-what-you-were-out-there-doing smirks. Jules didn’t have to wonder why. Chances were good that Jace had told Shana about the kiss he’d interrupted.
Fifteen
Sitting at a table in the back of the restaurant, Dalton watched as a smiling Jules entered the establishment and hugged the older couple that greeted her. And then with much too much familiarity for Dalton’s liking, she gave a huge hug to the muscular guy who came out from the back. Who was he? A former lover? A present one?
And why do I care? That was the same question he’d asked himself earlier after he’d come in off the patio a
nd scanned Shana’s party for Gary Coughlin, who was nowhere in sight. Dalton assumed he must have left.
He sighed deeply, feeling annoyed with himself. When had Dalton Richard Granger begun feeling territorial about any woman? Especially the one walking toward him. The one who looked like she would prefer to be any place other than meeting with him tonight. And she also looked damned good. Too damned good, which is why Coughlin had been all over her. What man wouldn’t have been? Her blue wool dress clung to her curves in a way that should be outlawed, and her boots, a different pair than she’d had on the other night, looked good with her outfit, giving her an overall sexy look. Hell, as far as he was concerned, Jules wore sexiness like she outright owned it. She was different from any woman he’d ever wanted to make love to, and for some reason, he felt his desire for her stemmed from more than just her sexiness and beauty. More than the fact he wanted at least one night—one whole fucking night with her, doing just that.
She didn’t acknowledge his presence but merely slid into the chair across from him and picked up a menu. “Glad you could make it,” he said easily, deliberately drawing in a deep breath so he could inhale her scent.
“Whatever,” she responded drily.
For him it was more than just a whatever. He had never wanted a woman to the degree that he wanted Jules, which was a fact established months ago. What he was still having a hard time coming to terms with was her attitude toward him. She was so indifferent, although he knew she wanted him probably just as much as he wanted her. Yet she refused to budge. They’d kissed twice, and both times had been initiated by him. At first, he thought she was playing one of those feminine games, but now he wasn’t so sure. She was confusing the hell out of him, and a man who was supposed to know every single thing about women should not be confused. He was slowly discovering that lust could be fueled by something more potent than sexual desire, but for the life of him, he wasn’t sure what that component was.
“I suggest a glass of wine instead of coffee,” he said.
She looked across the table at him. “Why?”
He held her gaze. “Because tonight I’m in the mood to savor something. Slowly. Unhurriedly. Leisurely. And since I can’t savor you, the wine will have to do.” He watched the way her eyes darkened, the way her lips parted with a heated breath. Yes, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. But she was deliberately holding back.
“Why do you say such things?” she asked, her mouth now set in a petulant frown.
He shrugged. “I only say what I mean, Juliet.”
Her frown deepened. “I prefer Jules.”
“And I prefer a number of things. The first on my list is—”
“I can just imagine what’s first on your list,” she interrupted him.
“I doubt that you do. However, I will say it does involve you. But it’s not all about what we’ll be doing. It includes how we’ll be doing it.”
She placed her menu down. “You wanted to talk.”
He would allow her to change the subject, satisfied he’d given her enough to mull over. “No, I’m ready to listen. Evidently, you’re going to do whatever you want to do, so I assume you have a plan.”
They paused when a waiter came to take their order, and it just had to be the guy she’d given an extremely large hug to earlier. “I’d like a glass of Riesling,” Dalton said, not taking his eyes off her.
“I’ll have the same, please, Manning.”
Dalton raised a brow when the waiter walked off. “Manning? I thought you said Manning was your administrative assistant.”
“He is. I also said his parents owned this restaurant. He likes helping them out on the weekends.”
Dalton knew he should let it go but couldn’t. “Have the two of you ever dated?”
She smiled. “I was interested, but unfortunately, I don’t think his partner at the time would have appreciated it much.”
“Partner?”
“Yes.”
Dalton nodded. She didn’t need to say any more than that, but he was curious about something. “How did the two of you meet?”
“Manning and I went through the police academy together in Boston and have been good friends ever since. He was going through a bad breakup at the time I made the decision to move here from Boston with Dad. And when I told Manning I was opening my own PI firm, he volunteered to be my assistant. He’s good at what he does and makes my job a lot easier.”
Manning returned with their drinks, and when he left, Dalton watched Jules take a sip of hers as he sipped his. She even looked sexy sipping wine. At that moment, unadulterated pleasure warmed his blood at the thought of sipping her.
“Mmm,” she said, leaning back to get comfortable in her chair. “I needed that.”
He wouldn’t waste his time telling her what he needed since he was certain she knew. “So what is your plan?”
She shrugged beautiful shoulders. “I don’t have one. I plan to investigate your mother’s death the same way I do the other cases I handle. Thoroughly. I won’t leave a stone unturned. Everyone could be a suspect until I rule them out. When I get back from my trip next week, I plan to—”
“Trip? Where are you going?”
She rolled her eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been called to court in Miami on a case I solved earlier this year. A kidnapping that happened over two years ago in which the father took his son and faked their deaths. The mother never believed her husband and son were dead and hired me to prove it. I did. The father is going on trial, and I’m a witness.”
“When will you be back?” The expression on her face let him know she thought that information wasn’t any of his business, either, but she answered. “Friday. I’m due in court on Tuesday and figured I’d stay on South Beach for a couple of days to relax and take in the sun...something we haven’t seen much of around here recently.”
She took another sip of her wine. “Anyway, as I was saying, when I get back, I plan to check out information Manning will be working on while I’m gone. I’m curious to see whether that PI your father hired left any files around. Although I would think the killer would have been competent enough to make sure any files were destroyed, I’ve dealt with incompetent killers before. So who knows? A smart PI would have been working with two sets of files, sometimes three, depending on the intensity of the case. Most people don’t know that.”
“And there’s nothing I can do to sway you from wanting to do this?”
“No. Although you and your brothers haven’t hired me, I have a personal, vested interest in solving this case.”
Dalton didn’t say anything for a minute. “I’m reassigning Stonewall to guard you.”
She laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.” When she saw from his expression that he wasn’t, all amusement left her face to be replaced with a deep frown. “Don’t you dare. I can take care of myself, and I don’t need any man following me around.”
“And you think I do?”
“Umm, I’m not sure. I admit I was impressed with the way you handled that Glock the other night.”
“No need to be surprised. I’ve been handling firearms since I was out of diapers. My grandfather and father were big on hunting trips.” There was no way he would ever tell her about his days working for the USN, when he’d learned to handle weapons she probably didn’t know existed.
“Then that explains things. But I meant what I said. Stonewall is your bodyguard, not mine. Whether either of us thinks you need him is irrelevant. Evidently, your father isn’t taking any chances.”
Exhaling deeply, a sudden thought entered Dalton’s mind. Neither was he.
* * *
The next morning, Jules opened the door to her office. She had enjoyed early-morning church service, and instead of accepting her father’s invitation to brunch, she’d decided to com
e here. Since she was going out of town tomorrow, there were a few things she needed Manning to take care of while she was gone.
The main thing was that today she needed to stay busy and not focus on last night with Dalton. The man had a way of wearing on her last nerve. Over their shared glasses of wine, he hadn’t asked to sleep with her, but all the nuances had been there. The way he had looked at her. The subtle things he said. The things he didn’t say. Even the way he sipped his wine and licked the rim of the glass a few times, reminding her of his T-shirt the other night and the words written across it.
Jules figured she’d had a sure thing with Gary Coughlin last night, only to find out she was wrong. After bidding her father and Mona goodbye, she had glanced around to find the man gone. Vanished. He evidently had gotten tired of waiting for her conversation with Dalton to end. Maybe it was for the best, since impatient men had a way of annoying her in the bedroom.
She preferred a man who knew how to...savor. Hadn’t that been the very thing Dalton had hinted at last night? Slowly. Unhurriedly. Leisurely. She knew better than to think the conversation had only been about the wine. Sitting across from him, she’d seen all that heat in his eyes. At times, depending on what she said or her body movement, it had even turned into a blaze. It didn’t take much to turn him on. But then last night, she’d been just as combustible.
It had taken all her senses, common and otherwise, not to break down and invite him to her bed last night. It had been so long since her bed springs had gotten a good workout that even her mattress was screaming for her to get some.
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