Kiss Me Deadly

by Susan Kearney

  Some women didn’t wear their wedding rings.

  For all he knew, Mandy might be allergic to precious metals, but nevertheless his anticipation rose. Zack stood and hugged Dana. He turned to Mandy to find that the smile had left her eyes. She regarded him with a vibrant expression he couldn’t read but that rippled under his skin and piqued his interest.

  “Hi, Zack.” Mandy offered him an impersonal handshake, stunning him with such a cool reception. But that didn’t stop his zing at seeing her again.

  “Hi, yourself.” Amazed at his thrill at being near her, he took her hand, leaned forward and inhaled her spicy scent. And planted a kiss on her mouth.

  She stared at him, her pupils dilated. She snatched back her hand quickly—too quickly for him to believe she remained as unaffected by his presence as she appeared. Was she irritated that he seemed to have forgotten about her for two years and then blasted back into her life as if no time had passed, all the old sexual dynamite ready to explode?

  Dana’s eyes narrowed, and she punched Zack in the arm. “Behave.” His sister filled the silence with chitchat about his damaged face, giving him a moment to assess Mandy’s reaction. He’d rocked her with his little peck on the lips, but she’d quickly recovered, her face once again a neutral mask.

  Good move, dude.

  Dana reached up to touch his cheek. “Look at you.”

  Her lips tightened, telling him that she knew something was wrong. She might not know what, but with that special sense between siblings, she knew he’d been struggling.

  “What happened?” Dana asked.

  He brushed her hand away. “Nothing.”

  Zack could see Mandy shift her gaze between them, and the look in her eyes softened, reminded him of when she’d gazed up at him over a candle-lit dinner and laughed at one of his bad jokes.

  He pulled out the chair next to him for Dana. Mandy took the seat opposite, as far away from him as she could get. But now, he could see her watching him, taking his measure. She was curious about him. She couldn’t have missed his sister’s concern, but there was something more, too. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. If possible she was even lovelier than in his memory. She still had the same smooth skin that he could skim his fingers over for hours; the same exotic cheekbones in a face both strong and feminine; the same nose, straight, short and charming. Two years hadn’t changed her much. Except for that look in her eyes . . . an assessing worldliness that he’d never seen before? Wariness maybe?

  He tossed back his drink, appreciating the burn. “So who’s trying to kill you?”

  “Dana’s exaggerating.” Mandy’s slight southern drawl came out smoky and careful, like someone who’d drunk a bit too much and was now overly conscientious about enunciating clearly.

  Dana had no such difficulty, but kept her voice down low, so the other customers couldn’t hear. “Someone followed Mandy from her parking garage, rammed her car, not once, not twice, but three times, until she went over the lip of the Harbour Island Bridge.” Dana motioned over a waitress. “Mandy ended up in the river, and it’s a miracle she survived. The cops found her attacker’s truck later. It had been stolen and wiped clean of prints. The police are clueless. There were no cameras at the parking garage.”

  Shocked, Zack stared at Mandy, feeling a wave of emotion, a lot more potent than he should have felt. She could have died. He could only imagine that she must have been terrified, and hearing Dana retell the incident couldn’t have been pleasant. Yet, she had her emotions reined in tight. He wished he could do the same. At the idea of someone sending her car off a bridge, he clenched his teeth so hard, his jaw ached.

  They ordered drinks. Mandy picked up a napkin and began to fold the edges. Keeping her eyes on the napkin as if it was the most fascinating object in the world, she avoided Zack’s gaze.

  “Did you get a look at the driver?” Zack asked.

  “Yes.” Unlike his sister, Mandy didn’t elaborate.

  “You recognize him?”

  “No.”

  Zack frowned. “Do you think the attack had anything to do with winning the lottery?”

  “No.” Mandy sounded certain, looked up and met his eyes. Zack, the so-called expert on reading people, hadn’t a clue what she was thinking. But he clearly recalled looking straight into those eyes as he’d entered her body—and all the blood in his veins went south.

  Dana kept the conversation on track. “The winning numbers were announced tonight. Her attack happened on Tuesday.”

  “It was probably just a random thing.” Mandy shrugged, the movement rippling down her blouse, and despite his best efforts not to look, drawing his glance to the swell of her breasts, causing his jeans to suddenly seem too tight. Mandy had noted the direction of his gaze and sucked in her breath, flushing, but managed to speak in a calm tone. “You know how Dana is . . . she worries about everyone.”

  Dana sipped her drink, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrent between Mandy and him. “You know, I’m sitting right here. I heard what you said about me.”

  “Has the guy who attacked you shown up again . . . since the accident?” Zack asked, suspecting not even an icy shower was going to cure his very inappropriate hard-on. Sheesh. Someone had tried to kill her, and all his traitorous body could do was think about plunging into her, claiming her.

  Mandy shook her head. “He was very likely just some nutcase who won’t come back.”

  Dana clearly disagreed. “Most likely he’s connected to work. I wanted to hire a bodyguard, but Mandy didn’t. And now that we’ve won—”

  “You’re using the press that hasn’t shown up as an excuse to get what you want,” Mandy accused, but the twitch of a smile took the sting from her words.

  Dana narrowed her gaze. “It makes you a target all over again.”

  “You’re just as much a target as I am.”

  “But I’m not the one walking around with the ticket in my purse.”

  Zack frowned, glaring at two businessmen who approached the table beside them. They got his message, choosing a spot farther away. “You have the ticket with you?”

  Automatically, he assessed the suits at the bar, the couple making out in a booth and the single lady eyeing the suits, perhaps a high-class hooker, and dismissed them as potential threats. He’d seen a man’s throat slit for less than a C-note. Lost a partner in the space of a breath. For big bucks, even a solid citizen might turn violent. At least with his mind on danger, the bulge in his crotch had lessened.

  “I just found out tonight that we won.” Mandy looked at Dana. “Should we put it in the hotel safe?”

  Zack didn’t wait for Dana to answer. “You trust a hotel manager not to steal it?”

  Mandy smiled, whipped the ticket out of her purse and shoved it over to him, clearly pleased with herself. “Here, you keep it for us. Then we can go back to enjoying ourselves.”

  With a cynical chuckle, Zack pushed the ticket back across the table. “Giving it to me won’t keep you safe. If a thief targets you, they might shoot first and search for the ticket after you’re hit.”

  “Oops.” She plucked the ticket from the table and placed it carefully inside her wallet. “I guess the bubbly we had to celebrate has gone to my head.”

  Dana’s phone rang, and they heard her side of the conversation. “Lisa, keep trying to call Maria, okay?”

  Zack listened to his sister as Mandy ripped pieces off her cocktail napkin and rolled them into tiny paper balls, once more refusing to look at him. Dana continued, “All right, try to reach her again in the morning.”

  Dana hung up. “Maria still hasn’t answered her phone. Lisa says she’s on a hot date.”

  “Lucky girl.” Zack looked directly at Mandy, willing her to raise her eyes, hoping she’d pick up the edge in his voice that said she too could get lucky if she so
desired.

  Mandy speared Zack with a look, surprising him with her sudden ferocity. Her tone held an edge. “So you going to stick around for more than a few hours?”

  Zack kept his gaze locked on her. “Why not? I haven’t been in such beautiful company in at least two years.”

  “Zack, take a look in the mirror. No woman in her right mind would want you right now.” Dana rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “Mandy and I are sharing a suite. You get the sofa bed.”

  “Ouch.” Zack frowned. And hoped that Mandy wasn’t in her right mind.

  “EXCUSE ME A minute.” Dana pulled back from their table at the hotel bar and headed for the ladies’ room, leaving Mandy alone with Zack. For a moment, she wanted to bolt and follow Dana, but she refused to take the coward’s way out.

  Mandy assessed Zack instead. The father of her child. A privilege he hadn’t wanted or earned. He was a charming flirt, a good conversationalist when he put his mind to it, and dangerous charisma oozed from his pores, but was he capable of being a decent father? Would he ever consider leaving the DEA? Mandy honestly didn’t know.

  She knew she should tell him about their daughter. Then he could make his choice.

  But she had to pick the right time. That’s what she’d told herself ever since she’d learned she was pregnant. Now that the moment of truth was at hand, how should she determine if this was the right moment? Zack was flirting with her, for goodness’ sake. He’d left town without so much as a goodbye and never looked back. Now here he was trying to charm her, as if he had every right to walk back into her life and make the most of their two days together.

  What about his life? One look at his once-handsome face told her he was entrenched in his undercover work as deeply as ever. And what was Dana so worried about? Mandy knew her friend well enough to know that something was up with Zack, something that had Dana worried, something she hadn’t shared.

  Could Mandy really drop a bomb into his lap that would change his whole life in the few minutes they had alone while Dana was in the restroom? No. Not while she wasn’t sure what was going on with Zack, or what was happening with the attack on her, or in the uproar of the lottery win. No, she needed time to learn what was up with Zack, to decide when would be the right time to change his life forever.

  “Miss me?” Zack asked, then tossed down his drink as if he required reinforcement to hear her reply.

  Yes. “No.” Talk about loaded questions.

  “I’ve missed you,” he admitted, the yearning in his voice plain to hear. But Zack had a reputation as a ladies’ man. He flirted as easily as he breathed. He only let her see what he wanted her to see. She had no idea if he intended to pick up where they left off or was killing time while they waited for Dana, or felt obligated to try and make up for the callous way he’d dumped her when he’d left two years ago.

  “So what exactly did you miss, Zack?” She donned her best courtroom expression, wishing he wasn’t so easy on the eyes. He wasn’t knock-your-socks-off handsome. Zack was too hard around the edges for that. The bruises, cuts, and scars only added to the effect. His cheekbones were too sharp, his jaw too jaunty for a pretty-boy look. Still, the five o’clock shadow and the mussed hair gave him that bedroom aura that reminded her of his sultry kisses and slow hands.

  Mmm. Zack was good at everything, but he was especially fantastic at kissing. Some guys applied so much pressure that their mouths felt like an invasion. Some were so tentative that she’d wondered why they’d bothered. But Zack had a knack for kissing her just the way she liked. Best of all, he took his time.

  And when he finally got to lovemaking, he’d made it the most incredibly sensual experience of her life. Sometimes she thought that she was remembering incorrectly—that it couldn’t possibly have been so awesome. But then the details would flood back. The way he caressed her earlobe had driven her wild. The man had sensuous moves that should have been banned.

  But the sexiest thing about Zack was when he focused all his intensity on her—just like he was doing right now.

  One corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked grin. “I missed the way you manage to sound skeptical, yet interested.”

  She snorted. “I was interested once, but I don’t repeat my mistakes.”

  “Why was I a mistake?”

  Duh? Because he’d walked out and hadn’t called in two years? She refused to say the words out loud and let him know that she’d even cared.

  She shrugged a shoulder to try and cover her slip. She needed to assess this man, figure out the best approach to take, not rehash the past. Not when her child’s future happiness hung in the balance. “You weren’t what I was looking for.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “In what sense?”

  “It just didn’t work for me.” She hoped he’d let the subject drop.

  He cocked his head, and his eyes sparkled. “I didn’t satisfy you?”

  Of course he had. She’d be damned if she would give him compliments—especially when she wanted to smack him upside the head just for asking that question. He was talking about sex, albeit incredible sex, but she had more important things on her mind.

  Luckily for her, she didn’t have to reply because Dana returned and slipped into her seat. She looked from Zack to Mandy, her tone light. “Did I miss anything?”

  Chapter Seven

  MARIA GARCIA hadn’t wanted any interruptions tonight, especially after the package Ray Starker had sent. The dude liked to dress his woman for their dates; and that his tastes ran to trashy only enticed her more. She’d opened the box in her bedroom and tried on the sexy clothes, ignoring the statue of La Virgen de la Caridad del Cobre, the patron saint of Cuba. The silver lamé top draped between her breasts. She hadn’t worn anything this shiny since the tiara at her quince, her fifteenth birthday party. A matching flirty skirt hugged her hips two inches below her navel and flared to tease her thighs, plus the three-inch spiked sandals showed off her dark-red toenails. The clothes had encouraged her to use exotic makeup that she’d never wear to work. Ray had also left instructions in his bold handwriting. No panties. No perfume. No jewelry.

  She would feel naked without her gold chains and bracelets, never mind going commando as Ray had instructed. Without panties or bra, feeling positively reckless in the clothes, she shivered in anticipation.

  They’d often played games where she told him no, and one of the reasons she found him so compelling was that he ignored her fake protests. He understood that she liked him taking charge. He understood she enjoyed his domination. But suppose she had really wanted him to stop? Would he have backed off?

  She didn’t know.

  Her uncertainty scared her, even as it turned her on, ensnaring her in the dark sensuality she desired. They’d hooked up several months ago. Each encounter had become riskier, more intense until she craved him like no other. When had he begun to make ordinary guys seem weak and boring? When had she become addicted to his games?

  It didn’t matter.

  If Ray came to her apartment and saw her dressed like this, he’d know exactly what she wanted from him, and they’d never make the movie. She stared at the movie ticket. She didn’t want to go alone per his instructions. On opening night, the line at the theater would be long. Men would stare at her bare legs and the skimpy top, hoping she’d fall out and give them an eyeful. Despite her irritation that she had no idea when Ray would show, leaving her apartment and hitting the street dressed like he’d demanded excited her.

  The notion of stepping into the public eye dressed this scandalously heated her with so much anticipation, moisture dewed between her thighs. She’d dated lots of men—but Ray understood that although she longed for hot and wild, she didn’t permit herself to go there unless he pushed her into it.

  Before she lost her nerve, Maria picked up her keys, turned off the cell phone, and headed
out the door. Ray always gave her exactly what she wanted—even if she wouldn’t admit it, not even to herself. He took control, and she reveled in every moment of playing the bad girl.

  She’d spent her first thirty years making her parents proud, finishing college at the top of her class, going to law school, making junior partner at a prestigious firm, being the dutiful daughter. Now, it was her turn to do exactly what she wanted . . . or in this case, what Ray wanted.

  Unaccustomed to going without a bra, Maria was all too aware of the bounce of her breasts as she stepped to the roadside curb in her heels. The cul-de-sac in front of her apartment was empty at this time of evening. Palm trees rustled in the breeze, and the air smelled ripe with fresh mown grass. She was so ready to slip into her car, feel her skirt ride up her thighs, and let the leather kiss her bare legs. If only Ray were sitting beside her, watching her struggle to tamp down her excitement.

  Maria used her remote to unlock the driver’s door. Before she reached for the handle, someone stepped from behind the bushes and nestled his groin against her butt. She gasped and familiar sandalwood cologne wafted into her lungs.

  “Ray?”

  He closed his hands over her shoulders and nipped her neck, preventing her from turning around. A shiver of need raced down her spine. Feeling terribly naughty, she leaned into his kiss.

  “Not here, Ray, the neighbors might see.” At 9 P.M. the sun had set, but it was at least fifteen minutes from true dark.

  Just like always, he ignored her protest. Just like always, he pushed her a bit farther than their last “date.” Keeping her trapped between his large body and her Lexus, still nibbling her neck, he placed his hands on the bare skin of her waist and lightly skimmed his fingers over her tummy.

  His tone was rough, demanding. “Did you follow my instructions, querida?”

  “Yes, Ray.” He smelled so good, of sandalwood cologne and breath mint. She wanted to turn around, kiss him on the mouth, press her body full length against him.