by Nora Roberts
“Just testing your theory, Counselor.” He nipped lightly at her lower lip, once, twice. When that teasing sample stirred the juices, he crushed his mouth to hers and devoured.
She could stop him. Of course she would stop him, Rachel told herself. She knew how to defend herself against unwanted advances. The trouble was, she hadn’t a clue as to how to defend herself against advances she didn’t want to want.
His mouth was so…avid. So impatient. So greedy. She wondered if he would swallow her whole. He used lips and tongue and teeth devastatingly. If there was an instant, some fraction of a heartbeat, when she could have resisted, it passed unnoticed, and she was swamped by the hot wave that was his need, or hers. Or what they made together. On one long, throaty moan, she went under for the third time, dragging him with her.
He’d been prepared for her to slap or scratch. And he would have accepted it, would have forced himself to be satisfied with that quick, tempting taste. He was a man with large appetites, but he had never been one to take what wasn’t offered willingly.
She didn’t offer. She exploded. In that blink of time before his mouth covered hers, he’d seen the fire come into her eyes, that dark, liquid fire that equaled passion. When the kiss had gone from teasing to fevered, she had answered, pulling him far deeper into that hot well of desires than he’d intended to go.
And that moan. It sprinted along his spine, that glorious feline sound that was both surrender and demand. Even as it died away, she was wrapping herself around him, pressing that incredibly lean and limber body against his in a way that had a chain of explosions rioting through his system.
She heard his breathy oath, felt the long cushions of the couch press into her back as he shifted her. For one wild moment, all she could think was Yes! This was what she wanted, this wild flurry of sensations, this crazed, mindless mating of flesh. As his mouth raced down to savage her throat, she arched against him, craving the possession.
Then he said her name. Groaned it. The shock of hearing it ripped her back to reality. She was grappling on a couch in a strange apartment with a man she barely knew.
“No.” His hands were moving over her, and they nearly dragged her back into the whirlwind. Desperate to pull away, she shoved and struggled. “Stop. I said no.”
He couldn’t get his breath. If someone had held a gun to his head, he wouldn’t have moved. But the no stopped him. He managed to lift his head, and the reckless light in his eyes had her fighting against a shudder. “Why?”
“Because this is insane.” God, she could still taste him on her lips, and the churning for more of him was making her crazy. “Get off me.”
He could have strangled her for making him want to beg. “Your call, lady.” Because his hands were unsteady, he balled them into fists. “I thought you said you didn’t play games.”
She was humiliated, furious, and frustrated beyond belief. As she saw it, the best disguise was full-blown anger. “I don’t. You’re the one who pushed yourself on me. The simple fact is, I’m not interested.”
“I guess that’s why you were kissing me so hard my teeth are loose.”
“You kissed me.” She jabbed a finger at him. “And you’re so damn big I couldn’t stop you.”
“A simple no did,” he reminded her, and lit a cigarette. “Let’s keep it honest, Counselor. I wanted to kiss you. I’ve been wanting to do that, and more, ever since I saw you sitting like a queen in that grubby station house. Now, maybe you didn’t feel the same way, but when I kissed you, you kissed me right back.”
Sometimes retreat was the best defense. Rachel snatched up her purse and jacket. “It’s done, so there’s nothing more to discuss.”
“Wrong.” He was up and blocking her path. “We can finish discussing it while I take you home.”
“I don’t want you to take me home. I’m not having you take me home.” Eyes blazing, she swung her jacket over her shoulders. “And if you insist on following me there, I’ll have you arrested for harassment.”
He merely grabbed her by the arm. “Try it.”
She did something she wished she’d done the first time she laid eyes on him. She punched him in the stomach. He let out a little whoosh of air, and his eyes narrowed.
“First one’s free. Now, we can walk to the subway, or I can carry you there.”
“What’s wrong with you?” she shouted. “Can’t you take no for an answer?”
His response was to shove her back against the door and kiss the breath out of her. “If I didn’t,” he said between his teeth, “we wouldn’t be walking out of here right now when you’ve got me so wound up I’m going to have to live in a cold shower for the next week.” He yanked open the door. “Now…are you going to walk, or are you going to ride over my shoulder?”
She stuck out her chin and sailed past him.
She’d walk, all right. But she’d be damned if she’d speak to him.
CHAPTER FOUR
At the end of a harried ten-hour day, Rachel walked out of the courthouse. She should have been feeling great—her last client was certainly happy with the non-guilty verdict she’d gotten for him. But this time the victory hadn’t managed to lift her spirits. The only solution she could see was to pick up a quart of ice cream on the way home and gorge herself into a sugar coma.
It usually worked, and since, as a law-abiding citizen, she couldn’t relieve her tension by striding into Lower the Boom and shooting Zackary Muldoon through his thick skull, it was the safest alternative.
She almost tripped over her own feet when she saw him rise from his perch at the bottom of the steps.
“Counselor.” He reached out a hand when she teetered. “Steady as she goes.”
“What now?” she demanded, jerking away. “Doesn’t it occur to you that—even though I’ve been appointed by the court as Nick’s co-guardian—I’m entitled to an hour of personal time without you in my face?”
He studied that face, noting signs of fatigue, as well as temper, in those big, tawny eyes. “You know, honey, I figured you’d be in a better mood after winning a case like you just did. Let’s try these.” With a flourish, he brought his other hand from behind his back. It was filled with gold, bronze and rust-colored mums.
Refusing to be charmed, Rachel gave them one long, suspicious glare. “What are those for?”
“To replace the ones that are dying in your apartment.” When she made no move to take them, he bit down on his impatience. He’d come to apologize, damn it, and it looked as though she was going to make him go through with it. “Okay, I’m sorry. I got pushy the other night. And after I got over wanting to choke you, I realized you’d gone out of your way to do me a favor, and I’d repaid it by…” Furious all over again, he thrust the flowers at her. “Hell, lady, all I did was kiss you.”
All he did? she thought, tempted to toss the flowers down and grind them underfoot. Just kissing didn’t jangle a woman’s system for better than thirty-six hours. “Why don’t you take your flowers, and your charming apology, and—”
“Hold on.” He thought it better to stop her before she said something he’d regret. “I said I was sorry, and I meant it, but maybe I should be more specific.” To ensure that she’d stay put until he was finished, he wrapped his fingers around the lapel of her plum-colored jacket. “I’m not sorry I kissed you, any more than I’m going to be sorry the next time I kiss you. I am sorry for the way I acted after you put on the brakes.”
She lifted a brow. “The way you acted,” she repeated. “You mean like a jerk.”
It gave her a great deal of pleasure to see a muscle twitch in his jaw. “Okay.”
A smart attorney knew when to accept a compromise. Lips pursed, she studied the flowers. “Are these a bribe, Muldoon?”
The way she said his name, with just a hint of a sneer, told him he’d gotten over the first hurdle. “Yeah.”
“All right, I’ll take them.”
“Gee, thanks.” Now that his hands were free, he tucked his thu
mbs in his front pockets. “I slipped in the courtroom about an hour ago and watched you.”
“Oh?” She couldn’t tell him how glad she was she hadn’t seen him. “And?”
“Not bad. Turning a vandalism charge around on the other guy—”
“The plaintiff,” she explained. “My client was justifiably frustrated after he’d exhausted all reasonable attempts to have his landlord live up to the terms of his lease.”
“And spray painting The Landlord from Hell all over the guy’s brownstone on the Upper West Side was his way of relieving that frustration.”
“He certainly made his point. My client had paid his rent on time and in good faith, and the landlord consistently refused to acknowledge each and every request for repair and maintenance. Under the terms of the lease—”
“Hey, babe.” Zack raised a hand, palm out. “You don’t have to sell me. By the time you got through, I was pulling for him. There were murmurs in the visitors’ gallery about lynching the landlord.” His mouth was sober enough, but his eyes danced with humor. The contrast was all but irresistible.
Her smile was quick and wicked. “I love justice.”
Reaching out, he toyed with the tiny gold links circling her neck. “Maybe you’d like to celebrate your victory for the underdog. Want to go for a walk?”
Mistake. The word popped full-blown into her mind, but she could smell the spicy flowers, and the evening was beautifully balmy. “I guess I would, as long as it’s to my apartment. I should put these in water.”
“Let me take that.” He’d tugged the briefcase out of her hand before she could object. Then—she should have expected it—he took her arm. “What do you carry in here, bricks?”
“The law’s a weighty business, Muldoon.” His grip on her forced her to slow her pace to his. He strolled when she would have strode. “So, how’s it going with Nick?”
“It’s better. At least I think it’s better. He balked at the idea of Rio teaching him to cook, but the idea of busing tables didn’t seem to bother him much. He still won’t talk to me—I mean really talk to me. But it’s only been a week.”
“You’ve got seven more.”
“Yeah.” He let go of her arm long enough to reach into his pocket and take out a handful of change. He dropped it into a panhandler’s cup in a gesture so automatic that Rachel assumed he made a habit of it. “I figure if they could turn me from a green recruit into a sailor in about the same amount of time, I have a pretty good shot at this.”
“Do you miss it?” She tilted her head up to his. “Being at sea?”
“Not so much anymore. Sometimes I still wake up at night and think I’m aboard ship.” Then there were the nightmares, but that wasn’t something a man shared with a woman. “Once things are stable, I’m planning on buying a boat, maybe taking a couple of months and sailing down to the Islands. Maybe a nice ketch, forty-two feet—not too fancy.” He could already see it, a trim little honey, quick to the touch, brass and mahogany gleaming, white sails bulging in the wind. He imagined Rachel would look just fine standing at the bow. “You ever done any sailing?”
“Not unless you count taking the ferry over to Liberty Island.”
“You’d like it.” He skimmed his fingers lightly down her arm. “It’s what you might call an outlet.”
Rachel decided it was safer not to comment. When they reached her building, she turned to him, holding out a hand for her briefcase. “Thanks for the flowers, and the walk. I’ll probably come by the bar tomorrow after work and look in on Nick.”
Instead of giving her the briefcase, he closed his hand over hers. “I took the night off, Rachel. I want to spend it with you.”
Her quick jolt of alarm both pleased and amused him. “Excuse me?”
“Maybe I should rephrase that. I’d like to spend the night with you—several nights running, in fact—but I’ll settle for the evening.” He managed to wind a lock of her hair around his finger before she remembered to bat his hand away. “Some food, some music. I know a place that does both really well. If the idea of a date makes you nervous…”
“I’m not nervous.” Not exactly, she thought.
“Anyway, we can consider it a few hours between two people who have a mutual interest. It couldn’t hurt if we got to know each other a little better.” He pulled out his trump card. “For Nick’s sake.”
She studied him, much as she had the witness she’d so ruthlessly cross-examined earlier. “You want to spend the evening with me for Nick’s sake?”
Giving up, he grinned. “Hell, no. There’s bound to be some spillover benefit there, but I want to spend the evening with you for purely selfish reasons.”
“I see. Well, since you didn’t perjure yourself, I may be able to cut a deal. It has to be an early evening, somewhere I can dress comfortably. And you won’t…” How had he phrased it? “Get pushy.”
“You’re a tough one, Counselor.”
“You got it.”
“Deal,” he said, and gave her the briefcase.
“Fine. Come back in twenty minutes. I’ll be ready.”
A bar, Rachel thought a half hour later. She should have known Zack would spend his night off on a busman’s holiday. Actually, she supposed it was more of a club. There was a three-piece band playing the blues on a small raised stage, and there were a handful of couples dancing on a tiny square of floor surrounded by tables. From the way he was greeted by the waitress, he was obviously no stranger.
Within moments they were settled at a table in a shadowy corner, with a glass of wine for her and a mug of beer for him.
“I come for the music,” he explained. “But the food’s good, too. That’s not something I mention to Rio.”
“Since I’ve seen the way he slices a club sandwich, I can’t hold that against you.” She squinted at the tiny menu. “What do you recommend?”
“Trust me.” His thigh brushed hers as he shifted closer to toy with the stones dangling at her ear. He smiled at her narrowed eyes. “And try the grilled chicken.”
She discovered he could be trusted, at least when it came to food. Enjoying every bite, lulled by the music, she began to relax. “You said the navy was a family tradition. Is that why you joined, really?”
“I wanted to get out.” He nursed a second beer, appreciating the way she plowed through the meal. He’d always been attracted to a woman with an appetite. “I wanted to see the world. I only figured on the four years, but then I re-upped.”
“Why?”
“I got used to being part of a crew, and I liked the life. Looking out and seeing nothing but water, or watching the land pull away when you headed out. Coming into port and seeing a place you’d never seen before.”
“In nearly ten years I imagine you saw a lot of places.”
“The Mediterranean, the South Pacific, the Indian Ocean, the Persian Gulf. Froze my…fingers off in the North Atlantic and watched sharks feed in the Coral Sea.”
Both fascinated and amused, she propped her elbows on the table. “Did you know you didn’t mention one land mass? Doesn’t one body of water look pretty much like another from the deck of a ship?”
“No.” He didn’t think he could explain, knew he wasn’t lyrical enough to describe the varying hues of the water, the subtle degrees of the power of the deep. What it felt like to watch dolphins run, or whales sound. “I guess you could say that a body of water has its own personality, just like a body of land does.”
“You do miss it.”
“It gets in your blood. How about you? Is the law a Stanislaski family tradition?”
“No.” Under the table, her foot began to tap to the beat of the bass. “My father’s a carpenter. So was his father.”
“Why law?”
“Because I’d grown up in a family who’d known oppression. They escaped Ukraine with what they could carry in a wagon—in the winter through the mountains—eventually reaching Austria. I was born here, the first of my family to be born here.”
&n
bsp; “It sounds as though you regret it.”
He was astute, she decided. More astute than she’d given him credit for. “I suppose I regret not being a part of both sides. They haven’t forgotten what it was like to taste freedom for the first time. I’ve never known anything but freedom. Freedom and justice go hand in hand.”
“Some might say you could be serving justice in a nice, cushy law firm.”
“Some might.”
“You had offers.” When her brows lifted, he shrugged. “You’re representing my brother. I checked on you. Graduated top of your class at NYCC, passed the bar first shot, then turned down three very lucrative offers from three very prestigious firms to work for peanuts as a public defender. I had to figure either you were crazy or dedicated.”
She swallowed a little bubble of temper and nodded. “And you left the navy with a chestful of medals, including the Silver Star. Your file includes, along with a few reprimands for insubordination, a personal letter of gratitude from an admiral for your courage during a rescue at sea in a hurricane.” Enjoying his squirm of embarrassment, she lifted her glass in toast. “I checked, too.”
“We were talking about you,” he began.
“No. You were.” Smiling, she cupped her chin on her hand. “So tell me, Muldoon, why did you turn down a shot at officer candidate school?”
“Didn’t want to be a damn officer,” he muttered. Rising, he grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet. “Let’s dance.”
She chuckled as he dragged her onto the crowded dance floor. “You’re blushing.”
“I am not. And shut up.”
Rachel tucked her tongue in her cheek. “It must be hell being a hero.”
“Here’s the deal.” Zack held her lightly by the arms on the edge of the dance floor. “You drop the stuff about medals and admirals, and I won’t mention that you were class valedictorian.”
She thought it over. “Fair enough. But I think—”
He pulled her into his arms. “Stop thinking.”
It did the trick, all right. The moment she found herself pressed hard against him, her mind clicked off. She could still hear the music, the low, seductive alto sax, the pulse of the bass, the slow rhythms of the piano notes, but rational thought vanished.
