by Lori Foster
Given his surly tone, she decided a change of topic was in order. They stopped at a light and she looked Mick over. His hair was thick and shiny and a little too long. The whiskers on his face, combined with the tiredness of his eyes, made her heart swell. Today he wore the softest, most well-worn jeans she’d ever seen on a man. They hugged his thick thighs and his heavy groin and his lean hips and tight buttocks.
Her pulse leaped at the thought of that gorgeous body beneath the clothes. Tonight, she’d get to see all of him. She’d make sure of it. She was so wrapped up in those thoughts, she almost missed the light turning green.
She eased the car forward, while her thoughts stayed attuned to Mick.
The shirt Josh had brought him was snowy-white cotton, buttoned down the front, and looked just as soft as the jeans. The thick bandage on his shoulder could be seen beneath, as could the heavy muscles of his chest, his biceps. “The doctor says you can shower,” she told him with a croak in her voice. “But he doesn’t want you to soak.”
“Right now, a shower will feel like heaven.”
“Will you need anything in particular? I could run by your place after I drop you off and pick you up anything you need.”
“Josh grabbed me a change of socks and boxers. Angel’s taking care of the rest later today. For now, whatever soap and shampoo you have will work.” He glanced at her, smiling just a bit. “Do you use scented stuff?”
“No.”
His eyes went almost black. “Good. I love the way you smell. I’m glad it’s you and not from a bottle.”
Del tightened her hands on the wheel. Boy, much more of that and she wouldn’t make it home. Luckily, he stayed silent for the rest of the ride, and Del didn’t bother trying to draw him out again. Her heart couldn’t take his idea of casual conversation.
She pulled up to the garage in front of her building. She had to pay extra to park her car there, but she knew if she left it on the street, it’d likely get stripped. She said as much to Mick as she turned off the ignition.
“Yeah, I know. I told you I own that building next door, right?”
Del rushed around to his door to help him—and got a disgruntled frown for her efforts. He was suddenly in an oddly defensive mood, and she didn’t understand him.
“You told me. I wasn’t sure if you meant the building to the left or the right.”
He grunted. The building to the left was a shambles. His building was nicely maintained. “Alec used to rent from me, before he married Celia. The agency where he works is located between here and where he lives now.”
Del cocked a brow. “If he doesn’t live here now, why did he follow us?”
Mick jerked around. Wary, he asked, “What are you talking about?”
She rolled her eyes. “Your friend is pretty hard to miss, looking like Satan and all. I saw him a few cars behind us. I suppose this is more of your protection?”
Tilting his head back, Mick stared at the heavens. “Something like that.” When he looked at her, she could almost feel his resolve. “I don’t have a gun right now. The cops confiscated it as evidence.”
Del gasped. “They’re not going to accuse you of anything, are they?”
“No, it’s routine to take any weapon used in a shooting. I’ll get another one before the day is out, but until then, I wanted someone armed to keep an eye on things.”
Fascinating. He spoke about guns with the same disregard that she gave to groceries. “This is all really extreme, you know.”
“It’s all really necessary, as far as I’m concerned.” Then he added, “Trust me, honey. This is what I do, and I’m not willing to take any chances with you.”
That sounded nice, as if he might be starting to like her. But maybe, Del thought, all private detectives were as cautious as Mick. She had no comparisons to go by; she’d never known a PI before.
Shrugging, she decided not to fight what she couldn’t change, and hefted out her laptop. She put the leather strap of the carrying case over her shoulder along with her tote, and then reached inside for his bag.
Mick caught her shoulder with his left hand. “Something we need to clear up.”
Del peeked up at him. He looked too serious, almost grim. Getting to know this man, with all the twists and turns of his personality, would be exhilarating. “Yes?”
He relieved her of his bag, then her laptop, holding both casually in his left hand as if they weighed no more than a feather pillow. “I’m not an invalid.”
Her temper sparked. “No, of course not. But you are wounded and you’re not supposed to strain yourself.”
Without warning, he leaned down and gave her a loud, smacking kiss. His expression was amused and chagrined and determined. “It doesn’t strain me, I promise.”
“But you can only use the one arm.”
Slow and wicked, his grin spread. “I can do a lot,” he whispered in a rough drawl, “with one arm.”
Her stomach curled at the way he said that and what she knew he inferred. She cleared her throat. “I see.”
“Good. Now lead the way.”
She didn’t want to. She wanted to insist that he let her help him. He’d done enough already, more than enough. Too much. The man had a bullet in him, thanks to her.
She turned and marched toward the front stairs. The entry door was old and heavy, and she hurried to open it, anxious to get Mick settled inside.
Together they climbed the steep stairs to the upper landing, where she used her key on both of the locks for her apartment door, one of them a dead bolt. Being a runner, she made the climb with ease, breathing as normally as ever when she reached the top. She half expected Mick, with his injuries and his load, to huff at least a bit, but he didn’t.
He did, however, keep a vigilant watch. “I’m relieved to see the landlord keeps the place secure. Not all the buildings in this area are safe.”
Del looked at him over her shoulder as she reached inside and flipped a wall switch. She didn’t tell him that she’d had the dead bolt installed recently. The front door opened directly into her living room, and one switch turned on both end-table lamps. She said only, “I’m not an idiot. I wouldn’t endanger myself.”
She tossed her tote onto the oversize leather sofa to her right and reached for her laptop. Mick, who’d been looking around, taking in her modest apartment, held it out of reach, lifting it over his head as if he didn’t have a bullet in his other arm, as if the pain wasn’t plain on his face. His strength amazed her.
“Where do you want it?”
Sighing, Del pointed to her desk in the corner, where a half wall separated her kitchen area from the rest of the room. Her desk was the only modern, truly functional piece of furniture she had. A computer occupied the center of the tiered piece, with a fax machine, a printer and a copier close at hand. There were file folders and papers stacked everywhere, notes, magazines, interviews she hadn’t yet put into the file cabinet behind the desk. Reference books littered the floor.
Mick lifted a brow and boldly glanced at her papers as he set the laptop down.
His curiosity would have to be appeased another time, Del decided. She took his arm and steered him toward the narrow hallway on the opposite side of the room. “The bathroom is this way. You can shower while I change the sheets. Are you hungry?”
He’d never admit it, she knew, but he looked ready to drop, pain tightening his mouth and darkening his eyes. Twice she’d seen him rub at his temples when he didn’t know she was looking. The doctor had told her that he was as likely to have headaches from his fall as pain from his wound. Del had a hunch the two were combining against him.
“After you finish,” she said gently, but with as much authority as she could summon, “you’ll need to take your medicine.”
Mick stopped in the bathroom doorway and caught her chin with his hand. His gaze burned, touching on her mouth, her throat, her breasts. “After I finish,” he said, his fingertips tenderly caressing her skin, “I intend to see about you.
”
Her knees almost went weak. “Me?” It was a dumb question; she knew exactly what he meant.
Nodding slowly, he said, “All that teasing you’ve been doing, all that talk about starting an affair, and your bold touching. I’m beyond ready.”
She really did need to learn a little discretion, she thought, now wishing she hadn’t told him all her intentions. But she was used to going after what she wanted, and he’d been irresistible, a man unlike any she’d ever known. Everything about him turned her on, from the protectiveness she’d never received before, to his strength and intensity, to his rough velvet voice and drool-worthy bod. The man was sexy emotionally and physically, and she wanted him.
She caught his wrist and kissed his palm. “Mick, you need to rest. There’ll be plenty of time for...”
He carried her hand to the thick erection testing the worn material of his jeans. Her heart dropped to her stomach, then shot into her throat.
“You think,” he whispered roughly, his eyes closing at the feel of her hand on him, “that I can rest with that? The answer is no.”
Her palm tingled and of their own accord her fingers began to curl around him. He lifted her hand away, leaned down and kissed her. “I just need fifteen minutes to shower and shave.”
Carrying his bag into the room with him, he turned and closed the door, leaving Del standing there with her lips parted and her eyes glazed and her muscles quivering. She sucked in a breath and let her head drop forward to the door, bracing herself there until she stopped trembling.
His effect on her was startling, almost too much to bear. She’d given up on men as too much trouble, with not enough payoff. But with a mere look, Mick could make her hot, and when he touched her, or she touched him, the need was overwhelming.
She heard the shower start and realized she hadn’t reminded him to be careful. She leaned close and said loudly, “Don’t soak your shoulder! The doctor said that was a no-no.”
Just as loudly, he retorted, “I was there, Delilah, remember?” And then she heard the rustling of the shower curtain and knew he was naked, knew he was wet....
She turned and hurried away.
When he’d answered her, he’d sounded distinctly irritable. Well, hell. Heaven knew, he was likely to be doubly so when he found out she had no intention of making love with him today. It would be too much for him, and there was a good chance he’d injure his shoulder anew.
No, she couldn’t let him do that.
She also couldn’t let him go unsatisfied. She closed her eyes, feeling wicked and sinful and anxious. There was only one thing to do. Granted, she was likely to end up the frustrated one, but that was a small price to pay to a man who’d played her hero, a man who’d saved her life. And she had no doubt he’d make it up to her later. She may not have known him long, but she knew that much about him already. The man wanted her—more than any man ever had.
It was a heady feeling. She liked it.
She especially liked him.
* * *
Mick found her in the kitchen, staring into her refrigerator as if pondering what to fix. A glass of iced tea sat on the counter.
He shook his head, not yet announcing himself. Foolish woman. How could she possibly think he’d want food when she stood there looking more than edible? Oh yeah, he wanted to eat her up. And he would, slowly and with great relish. “Delilah.”
She whirled around, first appearing guilty, then abashed when she saw his naked chest. He’d done no more than pull on snug cotton boxers; he had no need of the sling right now, though he kept his right arm slightly elevated to relieve his shoulder of pressure. The bandages there were made to withstand showers and would dry soon.
Any clothes he would have put on would just be coming off again, so he hadn’t bothered with them, either. By look and deed she’d made her willingness, her own desire, clear. It didn’t matter that he hardly knew her, not when everything about her felt so right.
He braced his feet apart and let her look her fill.
Her eyes widened and then traveled the length of him. Twice. She touched her throat. “If I looked as good as you, I’d have skipped the boxers.”
Though he appreciated the sentiment, Mick was too far gone with lust to manage a grin. “Want me to take them off?”
She shook her head and said, “Yes. But not yet. If you were naked now, I’d forget you’re hurt and do something I’d regret.”
“Like what?” She continued to stand there, her gaze returning again and again to his straining hard-on, which the snug cotton boxers did nothing to hide.
“Like throwing you down on the floor and having my way with you.”
He did grin this time. “The bed is right around the corner. Why don’t we go there now?”
Just that easily, he saw her resolve form, harden. He may have only known her a day, but he already knew that look.
“You need to take your medicine. Good as you look, I can see that you hurt.”
The pain in his shoulder and head were nothing, certainly not enough to make him want to wait another day to have her. “I’ll take a pill after I’ve sated myself with you.”
Her gaze locked on his. “Oh boy, you don’t pull any punches, do you?”
“From what I remember last night in the hospital, neither do you.” And to encourage her, he added, “But I like it when you speak your mind.”
She nodded. “Okay, yes, I want you to sate yourself with me. I want to sate myself with you, too.” Her expression was one of worry, regret. “But I figure that’d probably take me hours, maybe even days, so we should maybe put it off until you’re not likely to die on me.”
Damn, her brazen words mixed with the sweetness of her expression and the obvious worry she felt for him was an aphrodisiac that fired his blood. She was a mix of contradictions, always unique, sometimes pushy and too stubborn. Mick took two long steps toward her, ignored the continual throbbing in his shoulder and head, and gathered her close.
He wasn’t prepared for her stiffened arms, which carefully pushed him back again. Shakily, she said, “We have to make a deal.”
The need stalled, replaced by innate suspicion. What possible deal could she need to make at this moment? Thoughts flew through his head as he remembered numerous deals offered to him by prostitutes, drug dealers, gamblers, people from his youth and the people he now came into contact with every day of his life.
He also thought about the robbery, about her uncom-mon interest in the jewelry store, her interest in him, her willingness to bring a near stranger into her home and have sex with him.
By nature, he was overly cautious. From his upbringing, and then working undercover, he’d become suspicious of almost everyone and everything.
Because of his background, he often doubted the sincerity of women in general.
Dropping his hands so he wouldn’t accidentally hurt her with his anger, Mick growled, “What kind of deal?”
She blinked, confused by his temper. Carefully, her words no more than a whisper of sound, she explained, “I can’t stand seeing you in pain. I want you to take your medicine first, then we’ll go to bed.”
Mick made sure no reaction showed on his face, but once again she’d managed to take him off guard. Her deal was for him, not for her. “The medicine makes me too groggy.”
“Not for fifteen minutes or more. I’ve watched you after you take it. It doesn’t kick in right away, and you only go to sleep when you let yourself.”
Still not touching her, he said, “What I have in mind will take more than fifteen minutes.”
She inhaled sharply at his words, then touched him, her hand opening on his chest, her fingers splayed, sifting through his body hair. The reflexive clench of his muscles brought a sharp ache to his temples, his shoulder.
“You’re welcome to stay here until you’re completely recovered,” she said, still stroking him with what seemed like acute awe, probably attempting to soothe him, when in fact each glide of her delicate finger
s over his muscles wound him that much tighter. “There’ll be plenty of time for both of us to indulge ourselves.”
He didn’t answer right away, trying to figure her out in the middle of an intense arousal that kept rational thought just out of reach.
“Please,” she added, both hands now sliding up to his shoulders. One edged the bandage that came over his shoulder from the back. “I won’t be able to enjoy myself for fear of hurting you.”
He didn’t want that. He fully intended for her to experience more than mere enjoyment. He wanted her ripe with pleasure, numb with it. He wanted to give her the kind of explosive release she’d have only with him.
Yet, she was right. In his present condition, it wasn’t likely to happen. With her insistence, she was probably helping him to save face.
Mick brought her close and said against her hair, “I’m sorry. I’m not used to wanting a woman quite this much.” He wasn’t used to wanting to trust a woman, either. But he wanted to trust Delilah. He wanted to involve himself with every aspect of her life. He needed to tie her to him in some way.
Nodding, she said, “I know the feeling. You blow my socks off.”
He tilted her back so he could see her face. Her honesty humbled him, and pleased him.
“We haven’t discussed it,” he said, thinking now was as good a time as any, “but I want you to know the nurse was right, I come with a clean bill of health—in all ways. Not only have I always been discriminating, but I’m very cautious, too.”
That brought a beautiful smile to her face. “Same here. I can’t claim to have been a recluse, but I haven’t met many men that I wanted to get involved with. Not like this, not enough to let them interrupt my life. And men take exception to that. They don’t like to be neatly compartmentalized.”
“Is that right?”
She nodded. “You may not have noticed, but I get really wrapped up in my work, and most of the time I’m not even aware of men around me. At least, not for long.”
Mick grinned. “I noticed. At first I wondered if maybe you were a lesbian.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. She frowned at him, her pale blue eyes burning bright. “I’m not.”
