So it was an unpleasant shock to find Lillian sitting on the swing on his front porch.
The expectant smile on her face told him everything he needed to know.
Lillian had come for him.
Great.
He was grateful to Elizabeth for allowing him to open her car door. It would give Lillian something to think about—that he was bringing his date home for the evening. He smiled as he grabbed hold of Elizabeth’s hand.
Some of the eager anticipation left Lillian’s expression to be replaced by shock. “Hello, Dante.” Lillian’s gaze darted back and forth between the two of them, speculation and something more making her voice waver.
Dante kept a firm grip on Elizabeth’s hand, twining his fingers through hers. If Lillian thought she had a chance in hell she was in for a rude surprise. “Hello, Lillian. What do you want?”
Lillian squirmed uncomfortably. She looked flawless, just as she always had. Her brown hair was perfectly styled, a shining wave that Dante used to love burying his hands in. Her figure was nearly perfect, her complexion flawless. She had a way of looking at a man as if he was the only one on the face of the earth.
Once, Dante had basked in that sensation. He’d truly thought he’d found the woman of his dreams.
Then he’d learned that he wasn’t the only man on the face of her earth. He’d found himself divorced, alone and hating the man he’d thought had stolen his wife away.
It had taken him a while to realize that Lillian had gone willingly, even eagerly, with her new lover.
Hershman may have seduced her, but she’d done nothing to stop him.
Holding Elizabeth’s hand, he tried to picture how she would react to someone like Hershman, and had to stifle a grin. She’d eviscerate the slimy asshole without blinking twice over it.
“Francesca called. She said you wanted to talk to me, so I came right over.” Lillian’s gaze darted once again between Dante and Elizabeth. She bit her lip, another gesture that used to drive Dante wild but now only left him feeling hollow and slightly disgusted with how easily she’d once manipulated him.
He’d adored her, and she’d ripped him to shreds.
“I guess she was wrong.” Her sad, disappointed tone couldn’t move him. Not anymore.
“I guess she was wrong too.” He sighed roughly. He needed to have a long overdue chat with his sister. It did neither Lillian nor himself any good to keep dredging up the past. “I’m sorry if Francesca keeps giving you the wrong idea. You know things will never be the same between us.”
She looked up at him, tears forming, her lip trembling. “Oh, Dante, things could be just like they were, if you’d only forgive me.”
Dante had seen this little play before, and steeled himself. He only hoped Elizabeth didn’t buy Lillian’s poor me act.
Elizabeth’s snort of disgust had Lillian blinking uncertainly. Not one of Lillian’s crocodile tears fell to mar her perfect makeup.
Dante tugged Elizabeth closer, tucking her under his arm. “There’s nothing to forgive. We’ve both moved on.” He made it a point to make sure Elizabeth was as close as they could get while still wearing clothing.
“But, Dante—”
“I think you’d better go, Lillian,” he said quietly.
She glanced uncertainly at Elizabeth before squaring her shoulders. “Dante, please—”
“Good night, Lillian.”
The tears dried up as quickly as they’d come. “Good night, Dante.” She moved past him, but stopped short and ran one well-manicured hand down his arm. “I’ll call you.”
Dante sighed in frustration as Lillian went to her car. The playful, sexy mood of earlier was broken, and he felt a burning resentment toward Francesca and Lillian for ruining what had promised to be a fun end to the evening.
He unlocked his door, not even turning around as he heard Lillian’s car leave the driveway, Elizabeth entering the house behind him.
“Well, that was pleasant.” She threw her coat over the back of the chair in his living room.
He picked the coat up and hung it in the closet, hanging his next to it. It felt right there, like her coat belonged snuggled up against his. He had every intention of seeing even more of her things in his home from now on. “I’m sorry about that. Francesca and Lillian think I’m pining away for her. They’re constantly trying to get us back together. Frankly, it’s beginning to annoy me.”
He heard her snort of amusement and turned to face her. She looked strange, as if she was trying to figure out whether or not to be offended. He shrugged. “It wasn’t my fault. If you have to blame anyone, blame Francesca. I certainly didn’t call Lillian here.” Hell, he’d had vastly different plans for the evening, none of which involved his ex-wife.
She tilted her head, studying him with the same keen look she’d given the suspects they’d interrogated together. “What’s your usual reaction when she shows up on your doorstep unannounced?”
He shrugged. “I invite her in, we talk, I tell her it’s over, she sobs, I tell her it’s over, and she leaves.”
“That’s it?”
The way she stared at him made him uncomfortable, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I haven’t touched her since I found out she cheated on me.”
“Not even a hug?”
He blinked. Surely an occasional hug didn’t mean anything, right?
“You’re leading her on.” Elizabeth shook her finger at him.
“I keep telling her that it’s over between us. Are you going to blame me for trying to be gentle with her?”
“With a user like Lillian, you need to slap her down and slap her down hard. Inviting her in only tells her she’s getting through your defenses.” Elizabeth glared at him. “Is she getting through them?”
“Hell, no,” he said in disgust. “I wouldn’t take her back if she was the last willing female on earth. I’d run away to Abu Dhabi first.” Turning on the light to the family room he tugged her behind him, muttering the entire while in Italian.
He was not going to allow Lillian to ruin what he’d started with Elizabeth. It was time Lillian, and his past, were buried once and for all.
Chapter Thirteen
Beth had never been in Dante’s basement. She’d gone on the assumption that it was a typical Delaware half basement, unfinished and used for storage, and hadn’t even thought of poking her nose down there.
She was wrong.
It was most definitely finished, and obviously the heart of Dante’s home, even more so than the kitchen. The room was masculine, with honey-toned walls and a large, gracefully curved white marble mantle with a real fireplace. Dante picked up a remote and instantly had a warm fire going. It lit the room up.
The furniture in the room was all burgundy leather with scroll arms and deep cushions. The mahogany desk in the back of the sofa looked well used, littered with papers and a closed laptop. The craftsman-style lamp in one corner lit the desk with a warm glow. The coffee table and end tables all matched the desk in style and color, with craftsman-style lamps on the end tables and littered around the room.
A pool table dominated the other end of the room. A glass pool table lamp was above it, also craftsman, with three stools lining the walls next to the pool cue holder. A mini bar, mahogany and brass, sat in the corner. The floors were the same as the upstairs.
* * *
And there were pictures on the walls. Pictures of laughing children, Dante’s nieces and nephews. Pictures of Dante’s parents. Pictures of Dante’s sisters, with their husbands. Pictures of Dante. The room felt like a shrine to family.
And nowhere in the room was there a picture of Lillian.
He watched her as she wandered around his family room. “Find what you’re looking for?”
She ran her finger ove
r one of the frames of his parents. “This is the real you, isn’t it? A family man, who likes traditional values.” She caressed the back of the sofa, the leather butter soft against her skin. “A passionate man who is warmer than he wants people to think, in case he gets hurt.” She touched the computer, not surprised to see that it had a work file open on it. “A man who believes one hundred percent in what he does.” She sat lightly on the sofa. “So, Dante, tell me. Why do you keep all of this hidden away? Who are you hiding from?”
Her hands were clenched in her lap as she waited for his answer. It wasn’t long in coming. “You have a very vivid imagination.” He smiled, standing. He walked over to the small mini bar and reached into the tiny fridge. He pulled out a beer.
“Are you going to add asshole to the list, or do I get a beer too?”
He shot her an annoyed look and brought her the unopened beer. She opened it and took a small sip. “Yuck.” She shuddered lightly, putting the beer on his coffee table.
He glared the beer, and her, with mingled disgust and amusement. “If you don’t like beer, why did you ask for one?”
“Why didn’t you offer me one? Then I could have turned it down politely. Instead, you had to go all macho and arrogant. Now that beer will sit on the table and go to waste.”
He shrugged, picked up the beer and drank, ignoring her outraged growl. “Good beer should never be wasted.” He fell back into the leather chair and stretched his legs out.
“I swear, Dante, if you let one rip I will walk home.”
He laughed, loud and bright. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He put the beer on the end table next to him and folded his hands over his stomach, totally at ease. Only the introspective look gave him away. “Okay, you want to tell me what this is really about?”
She stood, suddenly restless. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t give me that.” He leaned forward, those huge hands of his cradling his beer gently.
“You think you know me so well, do you?”
“I think I’m beginning to, yes.”
She turned away from him, the events of the night just too much. “All right, then. You think you know me so well? Why don’t you tell me.”
“This is about your apartment, and knowing a Shem got into your safe place.” His strong arms encircled her, cradling her, and she found herself sinking into their warmth, comforted more than she thought possible.
That wasn’t the only thing bothering her. His ex-wife showing up had brought all her fears of having a real relationship with Dante back to the fore. The man had been married once, to someone who looked like a brunette Barbie, no less. His sister hated Beth’s guts and loved the ex so much she’d convinced her to visit him on a regular basis, even though the ex was remarried.
What the hell was he doing with Beth?
Dante sighed into her hair. “You confuse the hell out of me, you know? One minute you’re mad as hell at me, the next you’re ready to cry.”
“If you ask me if it’s that time of the month, I swear I’ll slap you stupid.” She was appalled to hear how close to the surface the tears were. Maybe he was right. Maybe the events of the evening were finally coming together in her head.
Beth usually had her act thoroughly together. She knew who she was and what she wanted out of life. But Dante had a habit of throwing her off-kilter, of making her want things she never had before. She wanted to stay right where she was, in the warmth of his arms, knowing she was protected by a man who would literally fight demons for her.
His arms tightened around her. “Do I look stupid?” The smile in his voice was obvious.
She turned and hugged him, hiding her face against his chest. “I will never be easy, you know. Not like Lillian.”
“If I wanted easy I’d take Lillian back.” He stroked her back gently, as if she were spun glass. “You’re safe here, sweetheart. I’ll turn anyone who tries to get to you into a deep-fried pickle.”
She barked out a laugh. “Pickle?”
“Yeah, haven’t you had those before? There’s this place down the street that makes deep-fried pickle...” He cleared his throat. “You know what? Forget I said anything.”
“You’re talking about Hooters.”
“There’s more than one restaurant that serves deep fried pickles.” He began rocking her gently and rubbing his chin against her hair.
“But you mean Hooters.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “I was single, and...it’s Hooters.”
“It’s an oink-fest, you pig.” But she didn’t pull away from his touch, didn’t stop him from pressing tiny kisses to the side of her neck, burning her with their intensity. The banter was doing what nothing else could have. The shakes she hadn’t really noticed she had were receding as she called her soon to be lover a male chauvinist porker.
She hadn’t realized how cold she was until she began to warm at his fire.
“Elizabeth?”
“Hmm?”
“Come to bed with me.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good—”
“Please.”
The quiet plea, almost begging her, crumbled her defenses. She wanted him as badly as he seemed to want her. Everything else, the Shem, her apartment, even the Blake case, could wait.
When he leaned down for a kiss, she didn’t pull away. His kiss was slow and sweet, soothing her even as she warmed at his touch. She deepened the kiss, taking his gentle heat and trying to turn it to a roaring flame. When she cupped him, caressing his straining cock through his pants, he groaned.
With a muffled oath he picked her up and carried her up both flights of stairs to his bedroom. He laid her gently on the coverlet before he slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. With a soft whisper of cloth against skin he shook it off, letting it slide to the floor. She began to slide the dress off, as eager as he to explore the passion burning between them.
His hands on hers stopped her. “No.” He ran them from her neck and over her breasts, a light caress that left her aching and empty when he moved back again to continue removing his clothes. She arched her back, trying to tempt him back into touching her, but he merely smiled and shook his head. His hands went to his belt, undoing it slowly, slipping it out of the loops of his pants. He held the belt between his hands, eyeing her speculatively.
She arched one brow, daring him to try what was so obviously running through his mind. If he wanted to tie her up he’d have to earn that privilege, and while she trusted him she didn’t quite trust him that much yet.
She scowled. The fact that she was even considering it told her she trusted him more than she’d thought she did.
With a soft laugh he put the belt on the table next to her and began to unbutton his pants.
“Wait.” Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she brushed his hands aside and unbuttoned his pants herself. Slowly, she pulled the zipper down, brushing her knuckles against his straining erection. He hissed as her fingers stroked over the head of his cock, gathering the moisture at its tip. Beth made sure made sure she had his undivided attention by slowly sucking that single drop off the tip of her finger.
He began removing the pins that held up her hair, his touch warm and gentle as he slid his fingers through the dark strands, massaging the back of her head. With a wicked little smile, she slid his briefs over his thick, muscular thighs. His cock slapped against her cheek, hot and thick, and she laughed.
She gasped when he pushed her back on the bed. He crawled over her, wearing nothing more than a sexy grin. He thrust against her, and even through the dress she could feel his cock like a hot brand against her skin. “You wouldn’t be laughing at anything in particular, would you, Elizabeth?”
She gulped and shook her head as his arms bracketed her. He lowered himself along her entire length, his cock pressin
g against her thigh as he nudged her legs apart. “That’s good. I wouldn’t want to think you were laughing over anything particular.” He thrust against her again, more than making his point.
“You’d better uncover the sheath if you want to put away your mighty sword.”
Nibbling and sucking till he hit the juncture of her neck and shoulder, he sputtered out a laugh, tickling her with his whiskers.
When she felt his teeth at her throat she realized he was marking her again. “What is it with you and hickeys?”
“Mmm.” He hummed under his breath and licked the same spot he’d just marked her. “Mine.”
“Happy with yourself, Captain Caveman?”
He kissed the hollow of her throat. “Yup.” He sounded unbearably happy about that.
He began to slowly strip the dress down her body, kissing and nibbling each inch of her exposed flesh until she was panting and writhing beneath him. Once he had it completely off, he gently petted the silky thong covering her pussy. He slipped one finger under the fabric, lightly stroking the curls just over her clit.
“God, Dante, that feels so good.” She arched against his hand, inviting his fingers lower.
Abruptly he stopped stroking her. He looked up at her, and her heart faltered. His irises had turned to living flame, the fire within them making them burn. Flames burst along his skin, his inner fire reaching for her, caressing her skin. The sensual wave of heat left her gasping, ready to beg for more. She grasped his biceps, moaning as his fire leapt onto her hands and down her arms. “Oh, God. Dante.”
Suddenly her mouth was taken in the most erotic kiss she’d ever received. The heat inside his mouth was almost too much. She could imagine it against her skin, sucking her nipples or taking her clit inside.
Dante began stroking his finger over her clit, matching the rhythm of his tongue in her mouth to the flicks and swirls. The heat of his touch sent her over the edge within seconds, her nails digging into his arms as the fire leapt higher. She was left gasping, reeling in the aftermath of the most intense orgasm she’d ever experienced.
The Fire Within Page 17
