Wicked Burn

by BETH KERY

  “And this is definitely what you called to tell me last week, right?”

  “Yes,” Rose repeated with an amused laugh of frustration. She knew perfectly well from her experience with clients’ families that they needed to be frequently reassured that they were not somehow directly responsible for their family member’s mental illness or the sole cause of a relapse.

  “I told you before that given the circumstances, it was a shame I hadn’t spoken with you first. But Stephen’s latest relapse had nothing to do with your filing for divorce, Niall. Absolutely nothing. Understood?”

  She waited until Niall nodded.

  “Good,” Rose said. She put her hand on Niall’s elbow. “Now let’s get out of this place. I shouldn’t say it, considering what I do for a living, but I really can’t stand hospitals.”

  Niall gave an exhausted bark of laughter. “God, I couldn’t agree more.”

  SEVEN

  The brisk wind coming off Lake Michigan and whipping down the tunnels of the high-rises couldn’t prevent Vic from walking back to Riverview Towers from the theater that Saturday afternoon. The run-through on Thursday night only served to highlight myriad problems and concerns that needed to be taken care of posthaste before opening night next Friday. Vic couldn’t justify returning to the farm for the long weekend, as he usually did.

  That was it. Lack of fresh air and rigorous exercise on the back of one of his horses were responsible for his extra edgy mood for the past two days. Sure, Vic would have been a bear no matter the circumstances, given the fact that he had an opening in six days and that not only was it his own play but his first production as director of the Hesse Theater.

  Although, his tension level might have something to do with the fact that Niall Chandler had specifically told him not to call her. Or that she’d looked so pale and fragile as she’d said it that it had made him irrationally want to wrap her in his arms and forbid her to go anywhere near her own parents.

  None of your business or your concern, he told himself as he walked down the street. Still, his mind kept churning as if it had been set on automatic by somebody other than him.

  Maybe his touchy mood and near inability to sleep at night related to the fact that he was hornier than hell for a woman who slept less than fifty feet away from him, the only thing separating them being a few thin walls and—more crucially—Niall’s choice.

  He knew she was over there. He’d come home late on Thursday following the dress rehearsal and meetings with his staff. But as he’d stood outside in the hallway debating whether or not he should knock on her door, the light that he could barely see at the bottom of her doorway suddenly blinked out.

  He’d grimly turned away, recognizing a dismissal when he saw it.

  Vic nodded in greeting to the doorman at Riverview Towers and put out his hand to push through the revolving doors. He stopped abruptly when he caught a glimpse in the distance of a solitary figure and pale gold hair blowing in the wind.

  He hesitated for a few seconds. Something about her bent head and the way her shoulders hunched forward slightly as she braced against the chilly November wind decided him.

  He’d intended to confront Niall immediately when he saw her walking alone, but instead he found himself following her at a distance of half a block or so. Something about her posture intrigued him, seeming both vulnerable and fragile and aloof and closed off at once.

  She wore a pair of black sweat pants with wide legs, a pink shirt that fit over her hips snugly, and a short, black hooded sweat-shirt. She bent slightly forward as she walked, her hands in her pocket. The tight shirt unerringly highlighted the feminine sashay of her hips and the beguiling outline of her ass. Vic’s gaze glued to the sight for several minutes, and he experienced a pleasant, warm tingling at his sex even at this distance from her.

  When she progressed farther down Lake Street into Chicago’s wholesale food and warehouse district, Vic frowned. Where the hell was she going? This area was iffy at best on a weekday, despite the fact that it was one of the latest frontiers for urban development. But on a Saturday the warehouse district practically became a ghost town. Niall shouldn’t be walking alone in this deserted, run down area of the city. Maybe she had a health club tucked into one of these warehouses, Vic reasoned as he picked up his pace to keep up with her.

  She suddenly jogged across a small side street, not even bothering to look for cars because the area was so still and quiet. Vic wondered as he followed her why the seedy convenience store on the corner was even open, since it probably made all of its business from the warehouse workers who filled the area Monday through Friday.

  Niall stopped at the entrance to a five-story brick building, which—given the stickers on the new panes of glass in the windows and the unfinished sidewalk out front—appeared to be not only empty, but still under construction. When he saw her draw some keys out of her pocket and unlock a service entrance door, Vic sprinted across the street in order to catch her in time.

  “Don’t they call this trespassing?” he asked at the same time that he just prevented the heavy door from separating him from Niall. The whites of her big eyes showed clearly when she wheeled around to face him. Good, at least she recognized that a degree of caution was warranted when she went wandering alone in vacant buildings in deserted parts of the city.

  “Vic!” she exclaimed, clearly shocked to see him.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded. He allowed the door to slam closed behind him. They stood in a concrete stairwell lit with fluorescent lights.

  “I . . . my new condo is in this building. The project manager gave me a key so that I could stop by on the weekend, when the construction workers aren’t here, and see the progress they made during the week.”

  Vic nodded toward the stairs, indicating she should lead the way. He noticed the hesitation and bemusement on her expressive face but he countered it with a sure stride as he came toward her. In a matter of seconds he followed her up the stairs, appreciating the view of her swaying ass even more up close than he had from a distance.

  “This area is pretty dodgy for a woman to be living in by herself, isn’t it?” Vic asked when they exited the stairwell on the fifth floor and Niall led him down an unfinished hallway. He chose to ignore the irritated glance that she tossed over her shoulder. Women tended to hate it when a guy said things like that, but hell . . . it was a real concern, wasn’t it? Any asshole could have stopped that door from closing just as Vic had a few moments ago, and had Niall at his mercy in the vacant building.

  “The warehouse district has the lowest crime rate in the entire city,” she stated as she inserted her key into one of the doors.

  “Not surprising, seeing as how it has the same population as Mars,” he responded mildly.

  She pressed her lips together and pushed open the door. “The neighborhood looks a little rough, but that doesn’t mean that drug dealers and gangbangers are hiding around every corner. Real estate in the West Loop is an excellent investment, given the number of people who want to live downtown these days and the limited supply of property and residences.”

  She paused to face him just inside the doorway. He liked the fire flashing in her eyes in response to his smugness.

  Christ . . . Niall’s eyes. Distilled soul fire. Two and a half days, and he’d forgotten just how explosive an impact they had on him.

  He forced himself to look away and examine the space where they stood, sure that if he kept staring at Niall, he’d have her flat on her back on the dusty, unfinished wood floor in two seconds flat.

  “Sounds like you’ve done some research into the matter,” he conceded as he walked around slowly, examining the space. The interior wasn’t finished, of course, and the floor was cluttered with lumber, sheets of drywall, and crates of various building supplies. But what he saw, he liked. Eleven-foot ceilings and plenty of windows. The far wall opened onto an enormous outdoor terrace. It would be a bitch to heat in a Chicago winter, but the east-facing view
of the skyline was completely unhindered by a single obstacle.

  “It’s going to be entirely open on this level?” he asked.

  “Yes, except for the powder room and closets,” Niall replied from behind him, her voice warming at what obviously was a favorite topic. “It’s a soft loft design. I’ve got twelve hundred feet downstairs and another thousand upstairs for the bedrooms.” She raised an elegantly arched eyebrow at him in a subtle challenge when he turned to face her. “That’s another reason why buying into this ‘dodgy’ neighborhood was such a good idea. I never could have have afforded all of this wide-open living space if I bought a place in the Loop.”

  Vic just smiled and headed up the stairs. “If you think this is wide-open space, then you should visit my ranch in Montana or my farm downstate.”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  When he heard the tone of her low, husky voice Vic gave up all pretense of being the friendly neighbor. He spun around on the stairs, hands on the railing, and leaned down over her upturned face.

  “Was that?” he countered.

  He watched as his innuendo registered in her consciousness and sexual awareness followed quickly on its heels. The tip of her tongue traced her lower lip in an anxious gesture, making him tighten with lust. The fact that she wanted him was just as obvious as ever, although not nearly as blatant as the stiff ridge of his cock as it pressed against the suddenly constraining fly of his jeans.

  “Why did you tell me not to call you the other day?”

  Her lips fell open in surprise at the harshness of his question. “I just didn’t want you to worry about me. Not that you would or anything,” she backpedaled quickly.

  “What happened? Why were your parents so upset?”

  “A . . . a family member had been hospitalized.”

  Vic straightened from his predatory stance when he noticed her pallor. “Is she . . . he”—Vic paused, eyebrows raised until Niall nodded at his second guess—“going to be okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure that was all that was wrong, Niall?”

  “Isn’t it enough?” she asked. For a few seconds she just stared at him silently.

  “Why don’t you show me the wide-open space of your bedrooms?” Vic suggested eventually. He held out his hand to her. A measure of relief swept through him when the solemn expression on her face disappeared and she laughed.

  “There isn’t much to see,” she teased as she moved past him down the hallway.

  Vic smiled, his eyes lowering to the sexy sway of the shapeliest little ass he’d ever seen. He begged to differ. In his opinion, there were plenty of prime views around here. His cock surged uncomfortably when he thought about spanking that butt several days ago.

  Niall proudly gave him the tour of her condo. He listened silently while she enthusiastically detailed what the finishes would look like in each room. Vic was glad to see that the construction so far looked like quality work. So many of the firms that put up condos in downtown Chicago utilized cheap materials and shoddy labor and got away with it easily because of the high demand in the market.

  Niall exclaimed in surprised pleasure when they entered the master suite a few minutes later and she saw that the walls had been freshly painted and carpeting installed.

  “Give me your keys for a few minutes,” Vic requested once they’d examined the half-finished, luxurious master bath.

  “What for?”

  “You’ll see. Just give them to me and I’ll be right back.”

  He grinned when she gave him a suspicious look and the keys at the same time. On the way back a few minutes later he peered into the main entryway of her building, gratified to see a doorman’s security desk in what promised to be a luxurious lobby. At least she had some protection, although he still wished she’d picked a place that was just a little more populated. Funny, he admitted with grim amusement, coming from a guy who preferred to travel miles before he ever saw another human face.

  When he returned a few minutes later, carrying a paper bag, Niall was still in the master bedroom, sitting in the middle of the floor, a dreamy look glazing her pretty face. He sat down next to her on the soft carpeting without a word and drew a bottle from the bag.

  “Where’d you get that?” she asked, clearly amused.

  “I beat up the gangbanger who was trying to steal it from the wino on the corner.” He laughed outright when he saw her eyes narrow in irritation. “I bought it from that store across the street, what’d ya think? It’s not our favorite brand, but it’ll do.”

  Niall laughed. “Vic, it’s four o’clock in the afternoon.”

  “So? How else were we going to make a toast?” he challenged as he poured some of the Scotch into the paper cups he’d also purchased. He handed her one of them and held up his own. “To your new home, Niall. I hope it gives you all the wide-open space you need.”

  The sparkle in her hazel eyes made him unreasonably happy.

  “So you like it? The condo?” she asked huskily after she’d taken a healthy swallow of the Scotch. It was one of the many paradoxes about Niall that fascinated him. She looked so damn feminine and petite, and yet she took a belt of hard liquor with an uninhibited sensual relish that made Vic stiff as a board. He’d known the second he’d seen her take a drink of Scotch on that first night that he had to have her. The only thing that had changed in two weeks was that his desire had become even stronger.

  “I like it,” he said simply before he tilted back his own cup, his eyes never leaving Niall’s luminous face.

  She lowered her cup slowly. “How did the play go the other night? Any monster problems?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing of Godzilla proportions. More like lizard-sized. Unfortunately, there was an infestation of the little bastards.”

  She chuckled warmly. “Isn’t that always the way with lizards?”

  He held her gaze, doing nothing to shield his desire. She glanced away after a tense silence.

  “I’m sorry that I missed it. I’ve been thinking about . . . it . . . wondering how it went.”

  “All you had to do was knock on my door and ask,” he chided softly.

  Her cheeks colored. “I thought you might be too busy with the play and all.”

  “Really.”

  She blinked in surprise at his open sarcasm. Her mouth opened as if she were about to argue, but instead she took another belt of Scotch from her paper cup. Vic got the distinct impression this one was for courage.

  “No, not really. I was avoiding you.”

  Vic didn’t respond, instinctively giving her the space that her anxiety warranted. He took another drink, watching her over his paper cup as she struggled with her discomfort. When the unwelcome thought struck him that Niall Chandler might be considering the best way to tell him to get lost, he tilted the cup until the remainder of the Scotch flowed in a burning river down his throat.

  “Vic, we . . . things . . . things between us really started off . . .”

  “With a bang?” Vic finished for her dryly when she paused.

  Her mouth hung open. “Yes,” she agreed after a moment, nodding her head in a matter-of-fact, earnest manner that he found adorable. “With a bang. I don’t really date that much. I haven’t in years, I mean. And then . . . what happened that night happened . . . that night you happened.” She rolled her eyes and took another drink. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I know how to put this.”

  “You think I’m coming on too strong,” Vic supplied.

  She tilted her head uncertainly. “Not just you. I am, too. I don’t know what to make of it.”

  “You think we should back off, take it a little slower?” he prompted. Her eyes flashed warmly, as if she was relieved that he’d found the right words for her.

  “Don’t you think that would be for the best?” she asked.

  “No.”

  Her lower lip trembled. “No?” she repeated incredulously after several seconds.

  Vic crumpled the flimsy paper cup
and tossed it on top of the bag. She wasn’t going to like this, but—“No. I want you too much to take you in stingy little servings. Maybe you’ll think that’s greedy of me, but I’m not the kind of guy who takes what he wants in half measures.” He met her gaze. “That’s not who I am, Niall.”

  Her mouth rounded in a silent, amazed “Oh.” His muscles tensed as he resisted an overwhelming urge to scoot across the floor and send his tongue deep between the lush, round target of her lips.

  Shit. Who was he kidding? Could he really ever turn away the smallest morsel she offered him? Not likely. But if he could talk her into the wisdom of fucking each other’s brains out every time the opportunity arose, then maybe he could purge her from his system once and for all. It made him uncomfortable, this wanting another human being so much.

  There was no way that he could maintain the sharp, near-to-bursting level of lust that he had for Niall for very long. His need for her was singularly intense, primitive . . . feral. Surely it wouldn’t survive for long after the initial volatile explosions that they created when they crashed together. Once their need for each other cooled, then they’d slow things down. Not now, though.

  Uh-uh. No way.

  “Want to know something else?” he challenged abruptly in a hard tone. “I don’t think that’s who you are, either. I’ve been to bed with you. You’re not the kind of woman who likes things watered down. Just the opposite, in fact. You said you wanted wide-open spaces, Niall. So how come when it comes to what’s happening between us you want to hide in some confining little corner?”

  Vic paused, surprised to hear the anger in his voice. Niall’s suggestion that they cool things down had really pissed him off. Nothing was going to keep him from her, certainly not Niall’s half-assed attempts at doing so. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Every time she met his gaze, the desire that he read in her beautiful eyes almost undid him.