There was no hesitation in his sensuous touch when he continued the erotic journey to her breasts, which had swelled and were aching with need. Begging to be caressed. Her nipples peaked into hard little points, stabbing his palms as they smoothed over her breasts before cupping their full weight. She cried out beneath his demanding mouth, arching her body against him as overwhelming need coursed through her, matching his stormy ardor. When his thumbs grazed her sensitive nipples, a liquid heat rushed through her body in hot, dizzying waves.
She tore her mouth away to catch her breath, moaning with pleasure when Mike ran his open mouth along the side of her neck to her exposed collarbone, and lower still to the deep part of her blouse. She was certain she was going to go up in flames when his tongue dipped inside her cleavage, teasing and licking her ultra sensitive flesh until she was a mindless, quivering mass. Her knees buckled.
Oh my God!
“Mike,” she began, gasping for air, unsure of the wisdom of what they were doing.
“Don’t say anything,” he rasped, gently pulling her blouse down until her shoulders were revealed. “Just feel.” He planted fiery kisses along the smooth flesh he slowly exposed.
She was feeling! Way too much, too fast. She’d been dreaming of this moment, yearning for it. There was a spot actually throbbing between her thighs, a moist heat dampening her panties. Her limbs were trembling wildly and she clutched Mike’s shoulders to remain on her feet. Suddenly his hands were moving beneath her blouse and before she could murmur a protest, they were gliding slowly upward, bringing the material with them. Emma felt a cool draft against her midriff and then against her breasts.
Their eyes clashed, and then Mike lowered his gaze to take in the bounty he’d just bared. His low groan echoed through the small room as he bent his head, putting his open mouth on Emma. He took her naked breast in his mouth in an exquisite kiss that finished with a slow glide to the tip of her nipple. Once there, his tongue lazily circled the nub, lapping at it as if it was a tasty treat. Emma shivered deliciously, burying her hands in his hair and holding him to her. As his tongue stabbed at her flesh, she was painfully aware of his throbbing arousal. The strength and fullness of him made her bold.
Uncontrollable hunger forced her hand down his torso until she reached the top of his slacks. Taking a shaky breath, she hesitated, until passion overruled common sense and with a muffled cry of surrender she let her hand continue down the front of Mike’s zipper. She teasingly trailed her fingertips over his impressive hard on until her actions drove him wild. In a movement that bordered on savagery, he grabbed her probing hand and held it tightly against him, controlling the pressure while moving her palm up and down his cloaked shaft.
He shuddered in a moment of weakness. The metallic taste of blood filled Emma’s mouth as she bit down hard on her bottom lip, her eyes misting with deep emotion. A sob escaped her before she could swallow it. Mike’s head jerked back so he could meet her eyes, and then he was cursing sharply beneath his breath.
“Oh damn!” His fist pounded the door above her head, rattling the fragile old wood. “I didn’t mean for things to go this far.” He leaned his forehead against hers, panting for breath. “I only wanted to kiss you,” he explained, laughing in spite of himself. “Hell, you make me forget where I am and what I’m doing.”
“Don’t blame this on me, detective,” Emma whispered breathlessly, a trembling smile playing upon her lips as she tried to calm her racing heart. “Is it the wig?”
“Pardon?” Mike pulled back to search her eyes for the answer, his still dilated with desire.
The knowledge that she’d been the one to put that desire there made Emma heady with power. “The blonde wig,” she repeated. “Is that what made you lose control? Some men can’t resist a blonde,” she said with humor.
His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. “Hell no. I wish it was that simple.”
“Why does it have to be so hard?” she countered seriously. His erection jumped against her and she burst out laughing. “I’m serious, Mike. What are we going to do about this? It’s obvious we’re attracted to each other.”
He started to shake his head. “Emma…”
“Shake your head all you want, it won’t change the truth. Why else are we here plastered against this door with the rest of the world on the other side?” Her eyes followed him when he distanced himself from her. She watched as he ran his hands through his hair, his expression changing with his varying emotions. It was plain as the nose on his face that Mike didn’t know what to say or do. And he was running.
Muffled voices in the hallway reminded her they were in someone’s dressing room and would soon have company. She straightened her clothes, going to the mirror over the vanity to inspect the damage to her makeup and hair. Groaning, she felt her cheeks blush with guilt. She looked like a woman who’d just grabbed a quickie in a back restroom somewhere. She met Mike’s eyes in the mirror. He looked disheveled too, his skin still showing the signs of the heated moment between them. And her fingers had definitely mussed up his hair, which he was suddenly running his fingers through.
“Melissa will be looking for me. I’ll leave first; maybe no one will notice.”
“Mike?” He turned to glance back at her before opening the door. “What time Saturday?”
A frown appeared between his brows. “Saturday?”
He’d already forgotten, or, maybe he’d chosen to. “Fishing,” was all she said.
“Oh, ah, we like to be out on the lake early when the fish are biting. Can you be ready around six?”
“I’ll be waiting at the dock,” she replied, wondering what she was getting herself into until she remembered Melissa would be there. How much trouble could they get into with a thirteen-year-old chaperone?
Chapter 14
Nursing a beer, Mike was sitting on his back porch in the dark, staring out at the glistening water of the nearby pond and listening to the chorus of crickets and frogs. The kitchen window was open above his head and he could hear Melissa humming while she finished up the supper dishes. His thoughts drifted from topic to topic but always seemed to come right back to one in particular, Emma Stuart, which then caused him to take another sip of his beer. He vaguely wondered how many beers it would take to make him forget about her.
Not for the first time he asked himself why he was fighting his attraction to her so vehemently, always coming back with the same answer, because he was so strongly interested in her. And he was running scared. He couldn’t recall a time when another woman had affected him as strongly. Making himself think about something other than a good romp in the sack and maybe a decent dinner. That he could handle. Emma made him think about forever after. For the first time in his life, that he could remember, he wanted, needed, love. Just a sexual relationship with her was out of the question.
She made him yearn for cozy nights in front of the fireplace, or cuddling wrapped up in a quilt on a cold night as they rocked in the old swing at the end of the porch. Someone to kiss goodbye to in the mornings and hello to at the end of a workday. Hell, Mike figured he was losing it. Maybe some day he could have those things again. Now wasn’t a good time to be thinking about what he wanted. He grinned, hearing Melissa singing out of tune, and the next thing he knew she was opening the screen door.
“We’re still going fishing in the morning aren’t we, Dad?”
“Yep.” Mike was glad it was dark and she couldn’t see his frown. Tomorrow he’d see the root of all his troubles again, in the flesh. He hadn’t seen Emma since the night of the play and that had almost been a week ago. He’d purposely avoided the gym, getting his workouts with a good run around the lake in the evenings before dinner.
Now, like a sex-craved adolescent, he couldn’t wait to see her again. Just the thought of her produced a pleasant tightening in his body. Bringing the can of beer to his mouth he angrily swallowed half the contents.
The smile in Melissa’s voice was unmistakable. “Good.
&nbs
p; I don’t know Emma except for what Amanda’s told me but she sounds cool. Do you want another beer before I go to my room?”
Did she sound a little too happy? “It’s kind of early to be going to bed isn’t it, kiddo?”
“I’m not going to bed.” She laughed, in a voice that clearly said he’d lost his marbles for even thinking it. “I have an essay on Theodore Roosevelt due this Wednesday and want to get started on it.”
“Get started? How long have you known about it?” She hesitated, which told Mike long enough. “Never mind, just make sure you get it done.”
“I will.”
The door closed quietly behind her and Mike found himself alone again. He finished his beer, trying to focus on a case he was working on, giving up after awhile. He might as well face it; he wasn’t going to get Emma out of his mind.
* * * *
Emma waved when she saw Mike’s boat approaching in the distance, but her smile quickly vanished when he came close enough for her to see he was alone. She’d been looking forward to fishing with them all week, mostly because she’d get to see him again. Second because she’d have a chance to get to know Melissa a little better. From what Amanda told her, she was a sweet girl who was at the age when she needed a mother’s influence more than a father’s.
As the boat neared the dock she crossed her arms, giving Mike a stern look. “Where’s our chaperone?”
His mouth twitched, his eyes moving over her like a hungry shark that hadn’t eaten in a week. She was dressed for cool weather in jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail that was rapidly coming undone. There was nothing at all sexy about the way she looked, yet Mike’s eyes told another story. Her cheeks filled with a pleasant heat, recalling their last steamy encounter.
“Do we need a chaperone?” he inquired with an amused tone. He reached for the dock, effortlessly pulling the boat closer so she could easily step down safely.
“I think one of us does,” she joked, bending to pick up the picnic basket she’d prepared and handing it to him.
Their hands brushed. “Are you worried?” His gaze held hers for a few seconds.
If anything Mike looked worried. Emma decided the best thing she could do was to change the subject. “What happened to Melissa?”
He took the things she handed him, putting them in the bottom of the boat behind his seat. “An essay on Roosevelt happened,” he explained, taking her hand and pulling her in with him. “She thought she had until Wednesday but checked her notes this morning to discover it’s due Monday instead. Now she’s in a panic to get it done.”
He didn’t sound as if he believed her and Emma had to wonder about it herself. The boat rocked slightly with her added weight and she automatically braced her hands on Mike’s shoulders. For a moment they moved against each other. She struggled not to give in to the sexual pull being close to him created. Beneath her palms his body felt hard and strong and she could feel the heat of him through his clothes.
She smiled, slipping her hands from his shoulders and taking a step back. “I have to warn you before we take off, I’m not very good at fishing.”
“What part aren’t you good at?”
Was his voice a little ragged? Emma liked to think she had that affect on him. It was the least she could do, considering he managed to reduce her bones into silly putty every time he touched her or got too close. “Putting the bait on the hook part,” she managed to respond. “Especially if it’s a worm.” To get her point across she shuddered delicately.
Mike’s lips twitched slightly. “I guess I can live with that.”
“The casting and reeling in part too,” she continued in a sassy tone. “And if I’m lucky enough to catch anything, taking it off the hook might be a problem.” She shivered and made a face. “All that wiggling, and fish are slimy. But other than that, I’m a pro.”
Mike crossed his arms, raising a brow at the same time, an amused smile breaking through and turning that sexy mouth of his into something Emma became hungry to taste. She swallowed with difficulty.
“Maybe I should have just asked what you’re good at.”
He had no business looking so hunky this early in the morning, filling out a pair of old, faded jeans as though he’d been poured into them. Emma recognized the tee shirt he was wearing beneath his open jacket as the one she’d ripped at the ball game. He hadn’t even made an attempt to mend it. Before she realized what she was doing, her hand came up to finger the torn material, recalling the scratches that had lined his chest that day.
“I’m good at a lot of things, detective.”
“Oh?”
She peered at him from beneath the sweep of her lashes. “But if you’re talking about fishing, I’m only good at cooking them, especially the ones without heads and tails.”
Mike threw back his head and let out a throaty laugh, the noise scaring the birds in the nearby trees into flight. “Come on.” He directed her to the opposite seat from him and forced her down. “Let’s go before I say to hell about fishing and take you inside to find out what else you’re good at.”
His comment held her momentarily speechless. She enjoyed the playful banter between them, but there was no denying the smoldering awareness of each other that was simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to emerge and consume them if they let it. She watched the muscles flex in Mike’s arms as he started the outboard motor.
“Once Melissa backed out, I’m surprised you showed up at all, considering,” Emma remarked, holding onto the sides of the boat as it rocked against the waves.
His eyes caught and held hers. “Considering what?”
She shrugged. “You’ve made your feelings pretty obvious about…” She hesitated, unsure of herself. “Well, wanting to be alone with me.” Mike tore his gaze away and looked out into the distance, a muscle twitching in his suddenly taut jaw.
When it became apparent he was going to ignore her comment, Emma riveted her gaze on the shoreline to watch the scenery fly by. She couldn’t help noticing how fast they were building along the lakeside. Houses were going up at an alarming rate, a lot of them vacation homes. She was glad to see the builders were doing their best to avoid altering the landscape any more than they had to. Not cutting down the mature trees offered the homeowner privacy from their neighbors. She’d thought about buying a house but the convenience of townhouse living had appealed to her more. Furthermore, her decision had left her with enough money to live comfortably until she decided what she wanted to do with her life.
Mike finally slowed the boat down, heading for a secluded little inlet. Massive trees grew along the muddy bank. Heavy branches swaying like giant canopies over the water’s edge, providing them with even more privacy. The water was dark and choppy that morning and for the first time Emma began to notice the unfavorable skyline. If she didn’t know better it looked like rain. Turning off the motor, he reached for one of the fishing poles at the bottom of the boat and proceeded to bait it, all without words.
She made a face when he hooked the fat, wiggling earthworm before handing her the pole. “Here, you don’t have to cast, just drop it over the side and wait.”
Thank goodness. Emma knew enough about fishing to know she didn’t know how to cast. “Thank you,” she breathed, doing as he instructed under his watchful eye. “What kind of fish are we fishing for? Since you’re nice enough to bait the hook for me, I’ll cook whatever we catch. It’s the least I can do. But you’ll have to lop off their heads and tails, skin and gut them because I…”
“Emma,” he said in a tone one might use on a tiresome five year old. She looked at him expectantly. The expression on his face was as serious as they came. It was obvious Mike didn’t fool around when it came to fishing. “You have to be quiet or you’ll frighten the fish away.”
Oh. She knew that. She watched him bait his own hook before casting it into a clump of wet grass further away from the boat. She had a hard time believing that he and Melissa fished the whole time witho
ut talking, but if that’s what he wanted, she’d do things his way. For awhile she watched the red and white bobber gently floating on top of the rough water before realizing it was making her sleepy.
She covered a loud yawn with her hand, giving her head a vigorous shake to clear it. Waiting was always the hardest part, she should have remembered that. She’d gone fishing with her father once, when she was nine, but she’d been too young at the time to appreciate the value of waiting for something. It took patience, a trait she’d never associated with Mike before now. Although his quiet perseverance didn’t come as a surprise. She had no doubts that when he wanted something he’d wait for as long as it took to get it. For some reason that brought a smile to her lips, which didn’t go unnoticed by the much too serious Mike.
“You look like the cat that swallowed the canary,” he said in a low voice, narrowing his eyes on her in a way that made her feel like squirming. “What’s going on inside that head of yours?”
She glanced away with a shrug, pretending interest in a couple of squirrels circling a tree on the bank. “Nothing, why are you so suspicious?”
“It’s the detective in me. And you look guilty as sin about of something.” He reeled in his line only to cast it out again in one smooth motion.
“I assure you I’m very innocent,” she breathed, giving him a come hither look that produced a sparkle of humor in his eyes. And something else that caused her heart to flutter.
“You weren’t so innocent the other night in the dressing room,” he reminded her.
Kiss Me Page 12
