by Toni Blake
Fresh hope bloomed in Stephanie's heart. "It's a step in the right direction, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."
Tony shrugged. "Just my job, really."
Yet she shook her head. "It's a lot more than I got going through the official routes. And it sounds like a substantial lead to me—at least a lot more places to look."
Jake slipped an arm around the back of her chair, leaning in close. "But you'll be a good little girl and stay put and wait to hear from me, no?"
She thought of arguing that three people could cover the area easier than two, but thought better of it, given how many times they'd been down this particular road. So she simply pursed her lips and nodded, feeling almost contrite.
At Tony's puzzled look, Jake explained, "Miss Stephanie here likes to play PI, but I'm helpin' her only on the condition she take that particular job title off her résumé."
She couldn't resist rolling her eyes, a little embarrassed in front of Tony. "He exaggerates. I was just trying to help."
"Gettin' yourself in trouble is what you were doin' and you know it."
She flashed Jake a chiding look, so he returned it. But along with his annoyance he experienced a healthy dose of want, and even as he narrowed his eyes on her in derision, he remained fully aware of the points on his body that touched her. His hand, resting atop the back of her chair, edging into her shoulder. His knee, pressed firmly to hers beneath the table. Frissons of electricity radiated through his body from those two little spots.
As usual, she looked gorgeous. Tonight she wore a formfitting, stretchy little blouse of lavender above a pretty flowered skirt that stopped a few inches above her knee. Her blond hair fell straighter than usual, tucked back behind her ears, showing off beaded earrings that matched the bracelet circling her slender wrist.
"Can I get you a drink?"
They all looked up to see the same twenty-something brunette who'd already brought him and Tony tall glasses of beer. He watched Stephanie tilt her head, considering. "I'll have a sea breeze."
He couldn't help chuckling.
She noticed and said, "What?"
"Nothin'," he replied as the waitress walked away. "Guess I just get a kick out of hearin' what you order. Never the same thing twice."
She shrugged. "They say variety's the spice of life."
He allowed a soft grin to sneak out. "I like a woman who's a little unpredictable."
"And I qualify?"
He nodded shortly. "You never stop surprisin' me, in fact."
She returned his smile and he supposed she knew he was thinking about the other night, about the sex they'd had right after they'd agreed not to have sex, the way she'd so warmly sheathed him with her body just when he'd finally accepted the fact that it wasn't gonna happen. The hottest surprise he'd ever received, by far.
As a Zachary Richard ballad came to a close, a more lively tune took its place. "Dance with me," she said.
"Huh?" he asked, then shook his head. "I don't really dance, beb."
"Neither do I." "Then why ..."
"Because you like a woman who's a Utile unpredictable."
She pushed to her feet and took his hands in hers, and the last thing he heard before he let her pull him onto the dance floor was Tony, whose presence he'd almost forgotten, saying, "Nothing romantic, my ass."
No, Jake didn't dance, but there he suddenly was, in the center of a small but crowded dance floor, moving to an easy, bluesy beat with Stephanie Grant. She smiled up at him as they both found the rhythm without too much trouble; she still held both his hands. His heart felt lighter than it had in... God, he couldn't even measure how long, and he didn't really want to, either. He just wanted to be in the moment with her—no past, no future, nothing but this.
He soon found himself stepping up closer, resting his palms on her hips, swaying to the music, pelvis to pelvis, as she circled his neck with her arms. Through the speakers, he heard Los Lonely Boys wondering how far it was to heaven, and he couldn't help thinking she made it seem pretty damn close sometimes.
Before the song ended, their legs had become intertwined, creating perfect friction as they moved together, and his hands eased farther down, onto her ass. He couldn't help drawing her even closer as she smiled up into his eyes to say, "Is this what they call dirty dancing?"
He chuckled, squeezing her rear tightly. "If it's not, it oughta be."
When she slowly ran her tongue over her upper lip, he watched it grow slick and shiny, then took the invitation to lower a slow kiss to her pretty mouth. He skimmed one hand to the small of her back, wanting to feel every contour of her body against his.
"Missed you, beb." He heard the words leave him, as unplanned as the low rasp in his voice.
"I missed you, too," she purred, her face close, her hips still swaying sexily against his.
"Wanna get outta here?"
Her eyes sparkled with heat. "Your place or mine?" "Yours."
She laughed. "That was decisive." "Well," he began uncertainly, "there's ... sort of a sixteen-year-old girl at my place."
Her face dropped as she went stiff in his arms—and he realized exactly how bad that sounded. He drew her closer, eager to reassure her. "A runaway," he explained. "She was havin' a rough time with her mom's boyfriend, so she took off. I found her on the street one night—same night I met you, in fact. I've been helpin' her get by, makin' sure she has somethin' to eat every day, and last night when it was rainin' so hard, I let her sleep on my couch. I tried to talk her into goin' to a homeless shelter or a runaway center, but she wants nothin' to do with it—and I just don't have the heart to put her back out now that I've invited her in."
He couldn't read the look on Stephanie's face, had no idea what she might be thinking of him, but barreled ahead with a thought that had hit him earlier in the evening when he'd been watching Shondra standing at his ink, washing the latest pile of dirty dishes to accumulate here. "In fact, I was thinkin' maybe you could help me with somethin'. I wanna buy her some new clothes. As kind of a surprise—since sometimes she seems to have trouble takin' a straight handout, so I doubt she'd just let me take her shopping'. She mentioned maybe tryin' to get a job, somethin' to get her on the road to bein' able to take care of herself, only right now she's in holey blue jeans and—"
Without warning, Stephanie pulled him down into another kiss, this one firm and sharp and needful.
After, he dared a small grin. "Is that a yes?"
She nodded. "You are... the sweetest man, do you know that?"
He laughed uncomfortably, looking away. Then he caught sight of Tony, chin perched on a fist, studying them with a gleam in his eye, so he turned back to her. "Isn't about bein' sweet, chère. Just didn't think I could live with myself if I left her on the street."
Her smile widened as her gaze turned piercing and sexy. "Let's get out of here."
He raised teasing eyebrows. "In a hurry?"
She nodded profusely. "I want to reward you. Want to show you just how sweet I think you are. Unless, of course, you still insist you're not sweet."
He grinned. "Okay, on second thought, maybe I am sweet. Maybe I'm the sweetest damn guy you ever met."
Curling his hand into Stephanie's, he led her off the dance floor and back to the table. She grabbed her purse from her chair as he said to Tony, "We're takin' off."
Tony only grinned as he pointed toward the tropical-looking sea breeze and Jake's nearly full glass of beer. "Don't want your drinks?"
Jake yanked his wallet out and dropped a twenty on the table, no longer trying to hide his ardor for the woman at his side. "Not thirsty anymore, pard," he said with a quick wink.
As he took her hand again and whisked her from LaVeau's out onto Bourbon, he heard music blaring from every door, people laughing, and saw scantily clad strippers tossing beads from a balcony to hungry-eyed guys below. But he didn't give a damn about any of that as he led her through the crowd, making a beeline for the nearest open thoroughfare where they could g
et a taxi. The only party he wanted to have tonight was with the beautiful, unpredictable, sexy blonde whose kisses made him tremble inside.
Chapter 17
Heat ascended his spine as he endured the short cab ride to LaRue House. They sat close, thighs pressed together, his fingers caressing her inner knee. She was peering up at him in the near darkness, saying how nice it was for Tony to help them out and how she felt in her heart that Raven would lead them to Tina. And he was peering down at her, thinking how soft her lips looked, and how warm and wonderful she was, and thinking, / want you, beb. Mon Dieu, how I want you.
Finally, he leaned to whisper warmly in her ear, "I'm afraid I can't hear a word you're sayin', chère."
She blinked up at him. "Why not?"
Still gazing into those pretty eyes—midnight blue beneath the dim, passing streetlights—he reached for her hand and pressed it flat over his raging hard-on.
She sucked in her breath, her gaze going wide with shock—and longing.
She bit her lip, then squeezed lightly. He had to shut his eyes against the pleasure, lest he moan and inform the cabdriver something was going on in the backseat.
"Feel good?" she whispered near his ear. Her breath tickled.
He could only nod, forcing his eyes back open. Her face was so close he couldn't resist a short, firm kiss. "Wanna kiss you everywhere," he murmured.
"See how sweet you are?" she said in a playful tone.
"Sweet doesn't describe what I'm gonna do to you once we get in that room, beb."
She gave her lower lip another sensual nibble and looked ready to let him keep that promise.
"LaRue House," the elderly cabbie said, announcing their arrival.
Jake hurried to pay, then grabbed her hand. She led the way down the dark walk with him following close behind. While the other night he'd been willing to be patient and go slow for her, tonight it was all he could do to make it to the damn door.
As she dug for her keys, his hands found her hips and he leaned into her from behind. He kissed her neck and pressed his erection warm against her until she moaned softly, her keys dropping to the brick walk with a jangle. Instead of stooping for them, though, she turned into his arms, her eyes wild. Impulse led his palms to her rear until he was picking her up, nailing her to the locked door with his body, until her legs wrapped tight around him, small heels gouging at his butt.
They kissed feverishly, like long-parted lovers, and he couldn't get enough of her mouth, her soft skin, the kisses soon grown short and frantic to match their rhythm below.
"Put me down," she said, breathless. "We have to get in the room."
His own voice came just as choppy and labored. "Why not do it right here?"
She shook her head, still panting, and managed a small smile. "Because I like this place, and I don't want Mrs. Lindman to kick me out."
He looked around the quiet garden area. "Nobody here but me and you."
"Inside," she purred, but he liked that she didn't seem to have the strength to disengage from him on her own, that her legs remained folded firm around him.
He was more than a little tempted to reach for his zipper, but feared he'd drop her if he let go. He growled with frustration, lowering her to the ground, where she hurriedly scooped up her keys. She jammed one in the door, twisting the knob until it came open, both of them nearly falling through.
Once shut inside, Jake took the purse from her hand and tossed it on a desk as he backed her against the dresser, pure instinct driving his every move. Had he ever needed sex as badly as he needed it with this woman? Had he ever truly experienced this can't-make-it-to-the-bed feeling?
"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are, chèreV His hands curved over her full breasts, then down the slender arc of her waist.
She went still in his grasp, looking up at him as if he'd just said something amazing. "No," she said, her voice soft and low. "Or... not before you anyway. No man has ever made me feel that the way you do."
It was true, Stephanie realized with a hint of shock. No one had ever looked at her like Jake did. Even if it meant nothing, was no more than lust—the affair she'd acknowledged on the way to meet him tonight—he gazed at her as if she were the most exquisite woman ever born, as if he needed her more than he needed air to breathe, as if he would climb any mountain for her or cross any desert. Maybe that was why she'd been able to open her body to him.
"Turn around," he whispered.
Somehow things had slowed. The same intense desire still swam through her veins, yet their words had placed a gentle hush over the passion.
As he guided her to face the cheval mirror in the corner of the room, he softly whispered, "I want you to see. Want you to see just exactly how beautiful you are."
Their eyes met in the glass, the small lamp she'd left on providing just enough illumination that she could study them both in shadow.
"Look at this perfect body," he murmured as she watched his splayed fingers roaming her—hips, stomach, breasts, thighs. "Look at how lovely you are from the top of your head to the tips of your toes."
Stephanie stayed quiet, absorbing his words. Before that quiet moment in time, she would have said her forehead was a little too wide, her breasts a bit saggy, and her thighs far too flabby. She would have wished for a better complexion, to have higher cheekbones, thicker hair. But as she looked at herself through Jake's eyes, as she heard the genuine sincerity in his voice, she swallowed back all those old, vague wishes and felt as if she were exactly what he'd said: perfect.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"For what?" His big hands still slowly explored, one stretched across her stomach, the other pulling aside the collar of her blouse so he could lower a kiss to her shoulder.
"Making me see it. Feel it."
"That you're perfect?"
She nodded in the mirror.
"I just thought you should know. Thought you should see what / see when I look at you."
Leaning her head to one side to accept more of his spine-tingling kisses, she watched in the mirror, studying the sensual sight they created. Her inner thighs ached for more and she almost wished she'd let him make love to her outside, against the door. But she hadn't wanted to rush—there was so much she wanted to do tonight, so much inside her ready to burst free. She wasn't even sure exactly what lurked in there—only that she sensed she was on the verge of finding out. At the bayou house, she had learned to trust, to give her body over to him. Tonight, she wanted to go much further—she wanted to give up control, she wanted to take all control, she wanted to indulge her darkest desires.
Jake's grazing touches grew more demanding, his erection pressed into her from behind as he nipped at her earlobe to send vibrations of heat skittering inward. "Remember how patient I was the other night?" he whispered hotly, their gazes meeting in the mirror.
Both his hands closed firm over her breasts and she lifted her own hands to cover them, pressing his palms hard against her. "Mmm, yes."
"And you'd have to agree that these last few minutes, after what almost happened against the door, I've shown commendable restraint, too—no?"
She laughed softly, even as he lowered a kiss to her temple. "Yes. Definitely."
His face rested directly next to hers in the mirror, his eyes brimming with quiet insistence. "Well, beb, that's all gone. I'm afraid you've taken all I had, and I don't have one more ounce of patience to give you."
Her breath caught, wondering what it would be like when he wasn't patient and she wasn't saying no. When both of them were giving, and taking, and needing, and demanding. And from somewhere deep inside her, one word rose: "Please."
"What?"
"Please. Everything. Now."
"Mon Dieu," he breathed, then grazed his teeth down her earlobe to leave her trembling. Because she was giving it all to him, all control. Because she trusted him that much.
Their gazes met in the mirror as his fingers closed around the placket on her blouse—both hands yank
ed and the stretchy shirt burst open. She gasped, stunned at the sight of her blouse hanging askew, her breasts rising from the cups of her lacy lavender bra.
He began to knead one aching breast, and as she bit her Up at the pleasure, he skimmed his other hand up her inner thigh, under her skirt, until his fingers stroked between her legs. He caressed her over her lace panties as his fingers dug in the cup of her bra. "I wanna touch you 'til you come," he growled, soft and low. "I wanna watch you feel it."
She pulled in her breath as his fingertips edged beneath the elastic at her inner thigh, his touch coming flesh to flesh, sinking deep into her folds. She bit her Up and heard her own moan leak free.
"Open your eyes, beb."
She hadn't even realized she'd closed them, but on his command she eased them open and the erotic sight before her urged her to move against his hand. Her breasts had been freed from her bra, and with his other palm he caressed and molded, gently pinching the pink tip between two fingers.
She'd never seen herself in such sexual disarray— never known desire so raw and fierce. "So pretty," he murmured. And though she'd never imagined such half-dressed abandon could be pretty, she saw it—what he saw. She loved his ability to view things so honestly, to make this rough, urgent sex so perfectly lovely. Not like at the Playpen, where raw and blatant had meant revulsion to her. Not like the unpleasant act she was forced to envision between her parents. Up to now, sex had fit only into two categories in her mind: blatant and ugly, or more refined but mundane. This—she and Jake in the mirror— was something new. Raw, and real, and good.
"You make me pretty," she murmured on a hot rush of breath.
She caught his sensual smile in the glass and knew he understood what she meant—that this unrefined sexual version of herself was as much a product of him as her. The two of them, together, made her this way.
