Unconditional Surrender

by Desiree Holt

  “Actually got my eye on something interesting.”

  Slade cocked an eyebrow. “Already?”

  “You know me. It’s in my genes. Anyway, I’ve been watching this interesting little byplay going on over there.” He nodded toward where a bartender was serving drinks.

  Slade glanced at the spot Beau had indicated. Three people—two men and a woman—were engaged in what could only be called a heated discussion. Maybe even an argument. The woman wasn’t his type. These days hardly anyone was. He could see, however, why she’d caught Beau’s eye. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail that swayed as she moved her head. Her skin was lightly tan and the silk blouse and slacks she wore hugged the curves of a mouth-watering figure. Her eyes were framed with thick dark lashes that gave her face a dramatic look. She was smiling, but neither of the men were.

  “I think I should check this out.” Beau pushed himself away from the wall. “She might need some help.”

  “Just don’t get into a hassle with any of the guests,” Slade warned. “I don’t know who these guys are. They might be someone important to Paul.”

  “I promise to behave.” Beau headed toward the bar.

  Slade was right behind him. Just in case, he told himself.

  Beau stood at the end of the drink line closest to the trio, facing the woman. When she glanced over at him, he grinned and winked.

  “Looks like you might need some help here,” he teased.

  She smiled back. “With these guys? Pfft.” She flipped a hand in the air.

  “Do you mind?” The speaker, a man in tan slacks and a dark brown silk sport shirt that appeared tailored to fit his husky body, glared at him. “This is a private conversation.”

  “Oh, come on, Barry,” the woman teased. “Maybe we can get a fresh point of view here.”

  Beau held up one hand. “I’m just an innocent bystander.”

  Barry, Mr. Hostility, ran his hand over his thinning dark-brown hair and glared at him. “I told you, butt out.”

  “Barry, for Christ’s sake.” The other man’s eyes widened. “Maybe you’re the one who shouldn’t be out in public.”

  “Barry.” The woman’s voice was soft yet firm. “Not cool being rude to the guests.” She smiled over at Beau. “Sorry about that, Mr…?”

  “Williams. Beau Williams.” He held out his hand. “I’m actually a guest of a guest.”

  “A party crasher?” Barry still had a belligerent tone to his voice.

  Beau just looked at him, his face expressionless. “I was invited. I came with a friend.”

  “See, Barry?” The woman gave him a snarky grin. “Learn to keep your mouth shut.”

  Slade was doing his best to swallow a laugh as he watched Beau do his ‘I’m just a guy’ routine.

  But Barry had obviously visited the bar too many times already. “I don’t know you. I know everyone who’s anyone in this town.”

  The woman burst out laughing. “Oh, my God. Did you really just say that?”

  “Barry,” his friend snapped. “Will you for chrissake tone it down? Paul will throw your ass out.” He turned to Beau and held out his hand. “Norm Leyden. Nice to meet you.”

  Beau shook hands with the man. “Ditto.”

  Slade decided it wouldn’t hurt to introduce himself too. Just in case, although he wasn’t sure of just in case what.

  “Slade Donovan.” He grinned. “I’m the guest that he’s a guest of.”

  The woman smiled at them both, a dimple flashing in her cheek.

  Shit! Beau’s a goner!

  “Megan Welles. Nice to meet you.”

  “Oh, is this a fucking tea party now?” Barry sneered.

  What a jackass, Slade couldn’t help thinking.

  Megan gave the idiot a glare as if he were something distasteful. “You’ll have to excuse Barry. He can’t seem to find his manners anymore.”

  “What is this?” Barry growled. “You’re not my mother. I think I need another drink.”

  He tried to shoulder his way past Beau. In doing so he bumped into Megan and jarred the glass in his hand, splashing what little was left of his drink onto her blouse.

  “Oh! Damn it anyway, Barry.” She tried to brush off the moisture with her fingers. “The last thing you need is another drink.”

  “I’ll get a fucking drink if I want one.”

  Norm Leyden grabbed his elbow and tugged him away from the bar. “Megan’s right. You’ve had enough.” He looked at Beau and Slade. “Sorry about this. I’ll get my so-called friend out of here. Come on, asshole, before you embarrass all of us.”

  Megan had grabbed a handful of napkins from the bar and was trying to blot the liquid. Slade swallowed a smile at the expression on Beau’s face, as if he wanted to pat her blouse dry himself.

  “There.” She squinted down at herself. “I guess that’s the best I can do.”

  “It’s fine.” Beau grinned. “Of course, I could help you if you like.”

  Slade bit back a grin of his own.

  She gave Beau an ‘in your dreams’ look and patted her blouse one last time. “Damn it all, anyway. I keep forgetting Barry’s got such a short fuse.”

  “What’s his problem, anyway?” Slade asked, wondering if he and Beau should take the guy out back and punch his lights out.

  “He’s a sports attorney.” She said the words with a little sneer in her voice.

  “Is it sports you don’t like?” Beau asked the question with a half-smile on his lips. “All sports in general or just one in particular?”

  Her lips curved in a tiny smile. “I love sports. It’s just some of the athletes I can’t hack.”

  Beau cocked an eyebrow. “And Barry objects to that? Aren’t you entitled to your own opinion?”

  She laughed, a tinkling musical sound. “That’s not it, exactly. He doesn’t like it when I criticize any of his clients, but he knows I always tell it like it is.”

  Beau moved an inch closer. “Are you in the business too?”

  “You might say.” This time her grin was real. “I’m a reporter for Yahoo! Sports.”

  “No kidding?” Beau’s eyes widened. “So what was Barry the douchebag’s problem this time? One of his clients on the hot seat?”

  “Barry the douchebag? I like the name. Very appropriate.” She sighed. “Like I said, he gets his shorts in a wad when I criticize his clients. He’s unhappy because I recently wrote a couple of columns criticizing the lack of personal responsibility in a lot of today’s athletes. I named a few examples, some of them his clients.”

  She took a sip of her drink then ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip, catching a stray drop.

  Slade wondered just how much longer Beau was going to stand there making small talk before he steered Megan Welles to a dark corner. He’d never seen any one strike faster or more smoothly than Surfer. He felt like an interloper, but it always fascinated him to see Beau work his magic.

  “I agree with you on the lack of responsibility.” Beau nodded. “It seems to grow and expand more each year.”

  “I told him if he didn’t want to see their names in my columns, he should teach them how to behave.”

  “No wonder he was unhappy.” Beau chuckled. “I don’t mean to sound chauvinistic, but isn’t it unusual for a sports reporter to be female?”

  Slade, still eavesdropping, had to bite his tongue to hold back the laughter. He wanted to tell Beau that for a babe magnet he could use some smoother lines. He waited for Megan Welles to haul off and smack him.

  She stiffened. “Hmmm. Isn’t that a little narrow-minded of you?”

  “I apologize. I’m just a knuckle-dragging male who spends too much of his time in the company of other males. And no one else.”

  She tilted her head and interest flared in her eyes. “Yeah? What do you do?”

  “What’s that saying? I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you?”

  Her eyes widened. “For real?”

  He laughed again. “How
about we get a couple of fresh drinks and take this conversation someplace away from this mob scene? Maybe I’ll even share some of my secrets with you.”

  Okay, Slade thought. At last. He’d been beginning to wonder when Beau would make his move.

  She nodded. “Sounds good to me. I always wanted to have drinks with a spy, or whatever you are.”

  “Name your poison.”

  “Scotch and soda.”

  “Ahh. A woman after my own heart. Right this way.” He cupped Megan’s elbow and directed her toward the bar. As he passed Slade, he winked.

  Slade nearly choked on a laugh. Whatever the woman drank, Beau would have said the same thing. He’d honed his approach to perfection. Slade had wondered what would happen when one day Beau met a woman who knocked him off his feet. And it was bound to happen. The law of averages. He watched the two of them walk away with their drinks, Beau’s arm draped casually over Megan’s shoulder.

  “I see lover boy has scored again. He sure didn’t waste any time.”

  Slade turned to see Trey behind him. “And as smooth as I’ve ever seen him do it.”

  “Want a little side bet that says he doesn’t sleep at the ranch tonight?”

  Slade threw back his head and laughed. “No takers.” He studied Trey. “How about you?”

  “Don’t you know I never tell my secrets?” He winked. “Anyway, I only came over here because I’m thirsty.”

  But Slade noted that he carried two drinks away with him. He didn’t think the man was that thirsty. Interesting, he told himself. Very interesting.

  * * * *

  Kari’s apartment was located in as secure a place she could find and still afford, just north of downtown, in a multistory building. A house would have made her feel too exposed and a building with a locked outer door or one with a doorman would have stretched her budget too much. But this had turned out to be a very good second best.

  The master bath had been one of the selling points. It had both an enormous shower and a whirlpool tub, to satisfy whatever her mood happened to be. Today she needed the luxury of a hot bath, something to relax the tension she seemed to always carry with her. She sank into the scented bathwater up to her neck, hair piled on her head out of the way, bubbles teasing at her chin. The heated water soothed her tired muscles and she felt them relax. She hoped the bath would wash away the troubles dogging her and the memory she could not seem to rid herself of. Today’s trial closure had been tense, the accused a violent, vicious abuser. Just looking at him in the courtroom had made her stomach knot. But she’d done well, gotten her guilty verdict and she knew the judge would hand down the maximum sentence.

  But that wasn’t what made her tense. No, the thought of socializing with a group of people she didn’t know made every muscle in her body twitch and every nerve fire. Once upon a time, she’d loved get-togethers like this. Then her life had fallen apart and had become one long nightmare. She tried to tell herself it was like falling off a horse. You just had to get back in the saddle and move forward.

  Easier said than done.

  If only the man she’d had awesome sex with that time could be there. Whoever he was. And wherever he happened to be. She’d had dreams about him now for five years, the occurrences much more frequent in the past year or so. Sometimes, as she struggled with the shadow that had been cast over her life, only those memories kept her sane.

  She leaned back against the tub pillow, closed her eyes and slipped into a dreamlike state.

  “Are you comfortable?”

  Comfortable? She was lying on the bed, naked, her hands gripping the headboard, legs spread wide. He hinted he might tie her hands to the polished spokes. The idea of it, the image of it, made the inner walls of her pussy flutter with spasms. He kneeled over her, his thighs bracketing her body. She was so stimulated that the pulse in her core throbbed and she ached with unfulfilled need.

  She wet her lips and nodded. “As comfortable as I can be.”

  “I like you like this. I can see every bit of your wet pink flesh, your hot channel just waiting for my fingers or my tongue. And maybe, if you are a very good girl, my cock.” He smiled down at her, white teeth flashing in his tan face. It was a hungry smile, one that signaled he’d like to eat her right up.

  Oh, yes, please, she wanted to tell him. Do it now.

  His long, thick shaft was at eye level, so swollen the head was a dark purple and a tiny bead of fluid sat at its slit.

  “Open your mouth,” he commanded. “And don’t move your hands.”

  Kari opened as wide as she could, a shivery sensation racing through her as he placed his cock on her lower lip and slid it slowly onto the surface of her tongue. She closed her lips around him, his girth stretching them with its thickness. His taste was all male, musky and hot. She moved her tongue against his shaft as much as she could within the space available and when she looked up at him, his lips curved in an erotic smile.

  “I want you to suck me.” His voice was thick and husky. “But don’t make me come. If you are very, very good, I’ll come inside you, bring you to orgasm that way.”

  Her pulse accelerated at the thought. To feel that thick cock inside her, plunging into her…

  Water splashed in her face, waking her from her fantasy, and Kari realized she’d almost slipped beneath the surface of the bathwater. But, Lord, dreaming about her ghost warrior had wiped everything else from her mind. And a warrior was what he’d been, indeed. His body might have been carved from rock, as hard and lean as it had been. A thin white scar had run from his left shoulder to the nipple, while below his rib cage on the right had been two round healed holes that she was sure had come from bullets. His entire demeanor had spoken of the total alpha male, someone in control at all times. She wondered what it would be like to get beneath the surface. To shred that control. To…

  He was the only man she’d ever lost all measure of control with. A craving for rough sex she hadn’t even known she harbored had surged to the surface and she’d given herself over to anything and everything. Nothing—not the binding of her hands to the headboard, not the blindfold that had made every sensation so much more intense—had changed the intensity of her response. Had it been because it had been so anonymous? Because no names had been exchanged? Was that why the prim-and-proper assistant prosecutor had behaved like a wild woman? Yet, every time she thought about it, she craved it again.

  Kari gave herself a mental shake. She’d never find him now so she might as well stop dreaming about him. Right now she wanted to make sure she enjoyed the evening ahead, so she’d better concentrate on the here and now instead of the once and gone.

  She didn’t know if it was the thrill of winning a tough case in court or the satisfaction of a job well done, but a tiny kick of excited anticipation danced through her system. As if something special was waiting for her. She certainly hoped so. And despite her unknown stalker hovering over her like a dark shadow, she still would have loved to have a man in her life. The right man, of course.

  What a paradox. I’m afraid to go out, but I want a relationship? Who the hell would put up with me?

  She longed for someone who could respect her for the strong person she was in public and still love her for her softer side. A man who could fill the empty spaces in her life. Someone with whom she could let down her guard. Someone who knew her outer bitch was only for court. Someone she could trust. She was tired of lusting after a man she’d never see again.

  She’d watched the men and women she worked with find happiness with others and had to tamp down the little spears of jealousy. She wanted what they had, but no one had come along who appealed to her that way.

  Except her phantom lover.

  Five years was a long time to dream about a man she’d only spent one night with. Maybe she needed to have her head examined.

  She guessed she’d just have to banish him from her thoughts. If he hadn’t come looking for her in Chicago, she for sure wasn’t going to find him in San Antonio
.

  Dressed in cream slacks and a purple blouse, her hair loose around her shoulders, she took one last glimpse at herself in the mirror and decided she’d do. Alamo Heights, where the Huttons lived, was about a twenty-minute drive for her. She figured to spend an hour at the party at the most. Then she could be home by eight-thirty, safe behind her triple-locked doors.

  Okay. Let’s get this over with.

  Stop it, Kari. You’re going to a party, not an execution.

  She found the Hutton home with no problem. Parking took a little more ingenuity, but she finally found a spot at the end of the block. Damn! All these cars meant a lot of people. She wasn’t sure she was ready for this. Inhaling, she let her breath out slowly and walked up to the front door.

  A two-story gray stone with definite Spanish influence, like many of the homes in the Alamo Heights area, it was fronted by a neatly mowed lawn and equally well-tended shrubbery. A giant pin oak tree stood gracefully just to the left of the walkway to the porch.

  A note had been tacked to the carved wood front door, telling people to just come on in. She opened it and stepped into a large foyer with a terrazzo floor and a unique brass chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. People were spilling into it from the open living room on the right. What she could see of the furniture had a Spanish flavor to the style. She wondered if the framed pictures on the walls were originals or really good reproductions. How much money did a JAG attorney make, anyway?

  Kip must have been watching for her, though, because as soon as she entered the house he shouldered his way through the mob of people and came over to her.

  “I was afraid you’d chicken out.” He gave her a reassuring grin. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “Kari!” Natalie Reyes broke away from the group she was with and hurried over to her, wrapping her in a hug. “I am so glad you came. We were afraid you might change your mind at the last minute.”

  “I nearly did,” Kari admitted. “I still don’t understand why you were so insistent I show up tonight.”

  Nat threw a graceful arm around Kari. “Because if you spend all your time with my cutthroat husband in those dreary offices, your wonderful spirit that I see hiding there will dry up and blow away.”