Sex & the Single Girl

by Joanne Rock

  “But at what cost to the resort?” Brianne retorted, staring up at the stars as if there might be some answer contained in the limitless indigo sky.

  And, a little voice inside her asked, at what cost to herself?

  “We didn’t even know he was here tonight,” Lainie replied, plucking up her glass again as if the matter was settled. “As long as he sticks to the shadows, he’s not going to be chasing away business. Sure, we’re inconvenienced now, but in the long run, if this Agent Maddock catches the cheating bastards who ran Club Paradise into the ground, so much the better.”

  Giselle and Summer were quick to raise their glasses to that sentiment.

  Great. Brianne slid deeper into the tub and wished she could slink away from this problem as easily. Even her own friends thought it was a good idea to hang out with the only guy who had ever broken her heart.

  Brianne sighed, but she toasted the plan along with everyone else, silently agreeing to help Aidan with his investigation.

  She just hoped he could solve his case quickly because she had a real problem with men who tried to push all her buttons.

  THE SOUTH BEACH STRIP was kicking into high gear by the time Aidan found an empty parking space near Club Paradise the next night. The club wouldn’t open for another hour, but he wanted to stroll through the grounds, get the lay of the land before he crossed swords with Brianne again.

  Thanks to her and her knack for sexual innuendo, Aidan hadn’t slept the night before. Her implication that he wanted to see more of her had been dead-on accurate and his mind had obligingly created an image of naked Brianne for Aidan to drool over until the crack of dawn.

  Now, tired and irritable, he faced the prospect of sitting next to her all night with as much enthusiasm as a suspect being read his Miranda rights.

  Good thing Aidan knew how to focus on his job. As long as he ignored the sexual chemistry between him and Brianne, he’d be fine.

  Winding his way through the palm trees and vacant cabanas on the resort’s flawless beachfront property, Aidan made mental notes of the terrain and tried not to remember he hadn’t been able to ignore the chemistry thing with Brianne when she’d been all of eighteen.

  How could he ever pretend he wasn’t attracted to her now that she was every bit a consenting adult?

  Well, maybe not completely consenting. Yet. Damn it, why did he keep thinking she might be if he applied a bit of effort to the task?

  Tugging open a tinted glass door to one of the resort’s four connecting Mediterranean-style buildings, Aidan welcomed the Arctic blast from the air-conditioned interior. He’d been overheating from more than just the sultry Florida air.

  A pop tune blared from the disco, bouncing through the marble and tile hallways to the small reception area between the hotel and the club. The sound would be more muted once carpets were installed, but for now, Aidan was subjected to a warbling soprano belting out bubble-gum lyrics along with the reigning pop princess who sang over the speakers.

  Curious to see the source of that brazenly out-of-tune voice, Aidan peered into the club to find two women congregated with Brianne at the end of the low stage and a colorful blonde with braids in her hair sashaying down the runway like a model for hippie-wear. Her see-through skirts were layered so you couldn’t truly see through them, but the effect was intriguing, especially given their rainbow hues.

  The singing woman taking center stage provided a perfect foil for austere Brianne on the sidelines in a chocolate brown, sleeveless cat suit. Brianne looked like a jewel thief ready for her next heist, minus only a ski mask. Her every move was elegant, her tall body as quietly graceful as the blonde was noisily ostentatious.

  “Well, who do we have here?” The blonde stopped in mid-chorus, drawing the gazes of the three other women toward Aidan.

  He could sense the slight stiffening of Brianne’s already perfect posture, feel the thread of tension emanating from her.

  She laid down the clipboard she’d been holding, but she didn’t exactly run over to greet him. “Summer Farnsworth, say hello to Aidan Maddock, our very own federal agent.”

  Brianne reminded him of the other women’s names. He’d questioned them both after Melvin and company took flight. The blonde on the runway stared down at him with unmasked surprise.

  “You’re the FBI guy?” Her gaze roamed over his backward baseball cap and his white T-shirt that advertised a regatta from three years ago.

  “That’s me. But I’d prefer if we kept that as low-profile as possible. Sort of an undercover thing.” He turned to Brianne and nodded toward the doorway. “Can I bother you for a few minutes?”

  He needed to get this initial face-off with Brianne behind him so he could move on with his investigation.

  She didn’t answer, but she picked up her handheld computer and sauntered toward the door, long legs perfectly outlined by the slim fit of her outfit.

  Aidan took the opportunity to stage whisper to Brianne’s friends, “If anyone asks, I’m her new lover. It’s part of the cover.” Could he help it if his work provided fun perks?

  “I heard that,” Brianne called over one shoulder, not even pausing as she plowed through the doors toward the hotel.

  Aidan nodded to Brianne’s partners before he followed her, thinking he’d probably need to investigate them a little more fully. Summer Farnsworth and Giselle Cesare seemed like face-value women, but Lainie Reynolds might have a few things to hide. She’d been married to Robert Flynn, Melvin’s closest partner, when the Rat Pack had pulled out of South Beach.

  Of course, he wasn’t thinking about anyone but Brianne by the time he caught up to her slim silhouette strutting down the hall toward her office.

  “Wait up, Bri.”

  She had obviously inherited the New York pace while living up north.

  Brianne spun on him in the middle of the opulent corridor. Perfectly centered under a massive crystal chandelier, she stared him down and began her advance. Her high heels clicked an ominous tone on the Moroccan tile floor as she closed the space between them.

  “If I’m going to allow you to invade my life over the next few weeks, don’t you think you could at least do me the courtesy of keeping up with me?”

  She looked pissed, and he would guess that didn’t have anything to do with him not keeping up with her. Still, some demon drove him to provoke her.

  “But how are we going to perpetuate the idea that we’re a couple when we can’t even stroll along side-by-side?”

  The spark in her green eyes practically burst into flame.

  “And how dare you put me in a position of having to look like your…” She gave him a thorough once-over, as if she couldn’t believe she’d have to attach herself to him even if it was only in rumors. “…lover. Did it ever occur to you I might object to such a ludicrous cover story?”

  “You really think it’s ludicrous?” He peered down at his three-year-old regatta shirt, wondering if she had a point. Brianne definitely looked more uptown than Aidan ever would.

  She continued to advance, backing him right into a marble table beneath a mirror the size of a swimming pool.

  Not that he was complaining. He finally got a whiff of that perfume that had teased his nose all last night.

  Sort of musky and dark. Almost as if she’d gone out and bought a bottle of sex stimulant and spritzed it on her neck.

  “It’s utterly preposterous. Daisy, for one, is going to see right through it given that you were her lover just yesterday.” She pointed a finger dead center at his chest and held it a fraction of an inch from his sternum. “You could have told them you were my neighbor, my brother, my mechanic or my decorator, Aidan. Any of them would have been more plausible.”

  “Your decorator?” He wasn’t totally certain he’d heard her correctly. He was too busy taking small breaths so the aphrodisiac she used as perfume wouldn’t bring him to his knees.

  “Yes. My decorator.” The idea made her smile. Not the real Brianne smile, but the half-co
cked version that made her look like a sultry pinup girl.

  Okay. He was a politically correct guy and all. And he was pretty sure there were plenty of heterosexual male decorators in the world. But from the wicked gleam in her eyes, Aidan would stake his badge she was trying hard to insult him.

  And she was doing a damn good job.

  “But I bet I can pull off a convincing kiss a hell of a lot better than I can hang wallpaper.” He inched forward just enough to back up his claim.

  Her eyes widened. The finger she’d been jabbing at him fell to her side. She even backed up a step before regaining her take-no-crap attitude.

  “Don’t forget I critiqued your kisses, Maddock.” She pivoted as if to continue toward her office, deeper into the vacant recesses of the luxury hotel. “I wouldn’t be too sure how convincing they can be.”

  Ten years ago, she’d melted in his arms so fast he’d almost forgotten she was just barely legal. He ground his teeth, knowing a gentleman would not remind her of the way she’d reacted the last time he’d kissed her.

  But damn it, some sort of reminder was definitely in order. He would have easily squelched that seldom-used gentlemanly conscience if only he didn’t need to make some serious plans for his stakeout tonight.

  Instead, he settled on a surprise move that served both his purposes. Catching up to Brianne’s hell-on-wheels walk, Aidan slipped an arm around her to halt her in her tracks.

  He leaned close to her ear to speak, close enough to feel the rapid-fire pounding of a pulse gone rogue.

  “Wait a minute, Bri,” he breathed against the shiny silk of her hair.

  Right away, he knew he’d made a big mistake touching her. Not only did that brief contact fog his brain on the details of an investigation that had seemed so important two seconds ago, but having Brianne in his arms—even just for a moment—also made him start to rationalize ways he could instigate a hot, no-holds-barred encounter with her and still be true to his case.

  An ill-advised thought at best. A surefire road to disaster at worst.

  She remained perfectly motionless, almost as if she was afraid to breathe for fear of touching him any more. “What are you doing?”

  He would take his hands off her any second.

  Soon.

  “I’m steering you in the other direction.” And proving to her she wasn’t totally immune to him, maybe.

  Too bad what started out as a bid to save his ego had just bitten him in the ass.

  He no longer had any idea who was proving what to whom. But he knew exactly how much he wanted Brianne right now.

  “My office is this way.” She managed to say the words without moving an inch. “Along with all the surveillance equipment.”

  Aidan needed to explain he wanted a walk-through of the whole property first. In his mind, he told her exactly that.

  In reality, he breathed deep enough to get the full effect of her sex-in-a-bottle perfume.

  In reality, he spread his fingers and thumbs a bit farther apart on her waist to cover a little more territory.

  And in reality, he knew he didn’t stand a chance of letting go without just one taste.

  IF AIDAN HAD TRIED a frontal approach, Brianne would have been prepared.

  She would have fended him off with a few well-chosen words, maybe another decorator crack, and she would have been on her way to her office right now.

  She hadn’t counted on this sneak offensive from behind.

  Funny thing was, now that she stood so close to him, encircled in his arms and surrounded by enough muscle to bench press her several times over, Brianne didn’t feel like fending him off.

  To fight against an attraction that had plagued her since high school seemed foolish. And damn it, she hadn’t spent ten years in New York’s balls-to-the-wall film industry only to run away from a little confrontation.

  She’d take what she wanted from Aidan and move on. Follow the heat right into the fire of the kiss she wanted so badly and then get on with her life. Nothing like tackling your demons to excise them.

  Aidan had started this sultry interlude. But she was going to finish it.

  Right here, right now.

  She didn’t give him a chance to retreat. Turning in his arms, she faced him in the deserted hallway, stared up into eyes she’d seen in more dreams than she could count.

  But instead of allowing Aidan to come to her, as he always had in her overactive imagination, Brianne rose up on her toes to meet his lips with her own.

  Consciously, she choreographed the moves as carefully as if she were behind a camera directing the action. This was not a kiss to indulge in for selfish reasons. This would be a tongue-tangle with a mission. Not only would Brianne demolish her old infatuation with Aidan, she also intended to wipe all memory of Daisy Stephenson from his mind while she was at it.

  Her hands smoothed over his white T-shirt, appreciating the sculpted perfection of his body. Her fingers twined in his hair, tripped along the back of his neck.

  He tasted like toothpaste and Tic Tacs—minty but warm. She anchored herself to him, savoring every inch of his hard masculine planes next to her soft, compliant curves. She couldn’t have molded to him any more perfectly had she been made of Play-Doh.

  It would be a challenge to break away from the heat of his body, the seductive taste of a kiss she had been waiting ten years for. But she had no choice.

  She had to walk away from him.

  And then he touched her.

  Perhaps she’d been so absorbed in playing out their kiss just the right way that she hadn’t noticed he wasn’t participating fully.

  Until right now.

  Aidan’s hands cupped both her hips, steering her exactly where she needed to be between his legs as they stood in the hallway. Brianne didn’t dare open her eyes to peek at their reflection in the swimming-pool size mirror because she had a feeling the image of them pressed together would be too erotic to bear.

  But then, keeping her eyes closed proved to be an incredibly sensual experience as well. Without the distraction of her sight, Brianne seemed all the more in tune with her other senses. The slight evergreen scent of his soap mingled with the fragrance of her perfume, the heat of their bodies amplifying the normally subtle smells.

  Aidan’s hands continued to hold her prisoner through pleasure. He ran his palms up her shoulders and outlined her collarbone with his fingers. The palms of his hands hovered a scant inch above her breasts, making them tingle and tighten in response.

  But more intoxicating than anything else was the wet slide of his lips over hers. His tongue teased and tasted her, made her a full participant in her own seduction.

  She could feel herself swaying on her heels, recognized the approach of a sensual tidal wave sure to drag her under. Still, she couldn’t take her hands off Aidan if she tried. Her fingers moved with restless energy over every available inch of him, cataloguing the shape and feel of his chest through his cotton shirt. She pressed him as close as possible to the needy greed of a body gone too long without a man.

  Every ounce of her energy went toward remaining on her feet or she might have ended up sprawled across the Moroccan tile with Aidan Maddock.

  Instead, a shrill rendition of a pop anthem reached their ears.

  She was saved by Summer’s bad taste in music.

  Brianne broke away, still reeling from the out-of-control mouth mating. Her heart slammed against her ribs as if she’d sprinted a mile. She simmered with need, her body on fire for more.

  But she couldn’t let Aidan know. The man had already refused her once. She would make sure he never had that opportunity again.

  It required every shred of her limited acting ability, but Brianne found her motivation in a hurry.

  Aidan could never be a part of her life.

  “That wasn’t too bad.” She fluffed her hair and called up a smile for Aidan’s benefit, hoping her knees wouldn’t cave right underneath her in the wake of that kiss. “Maybe all you needed was a lit
tle practice.”

  4

  THE KISS HAD OBVIOUSLY fried Aidan’s neurons because no way in hell could he have understood what Brianne had just said. Then again, blood blasted through his veins as if his body was fuel injected, so maybe he just couldn’t hear over the rush of red blood cells. And the warble of off-key soprano down the hall. “Run that by me again?”

  Brianne cocked one hand on her hip, the hall mirror behind her reflecting the stance with an even more interesting view. Her green eyes stared him down even as her lips still trembled from their tongue tangling. “I suggested your kiss was a credible effort. But now I propose we move on to business and quit with the spin-the-bottle games. If you want my help, Aidan, you can’t try to downplay your mission with questionable charm. We both know what you’re really here for.”

  Aidan took a step back, his hands raised to shoulder height to show her he meant no harm. The woman was hot as a pistol—just fired and smoking. He needed to start exercising a little caution around her or they were liable to both get burned.

  He had no business kissing her or touching her. No right to prove that her tough-girl guise was all an act. He had the feeling that with another touch—maybe two—he and Brianne would find out exactly how much heat was left in their attraction to one another.

  But he couldn’t afford to get wrapped up in her now. Not with his case riding on her cooperation and his residual doubts about her innocence in Mel Baxter’s shady dealings still looming.

  “You think you know what I’m really here for, Brianne?” Right now, he was wondering himself. Sure, he needed to put Mel Baxter away as a matter of professional pride. Mel was swindling half of Miami by now, but Aidan still held a grudge that the guy had made off with half his grandparents’ life savings ten years ago when Mel dabbled in television evangelism.

  His grandmother and grandfather had managed the monetary loss, but they’d never gotten to enjoy their retirement.

  Still, Aidan didn’t have any idea if he was standing in Club Paradise right now because of them. Or because of all the Dade County bigwigs who’d lost money investing in the resort.