Countless times, he’d asked himself the same bothersome questions. What did this woman have that others didn’t and why was he so attracted to her when he didn’t even know her? Maybe that was half the challenge. He didn’t know her, she didn’t know him, and the experience of getting to know each other would be fresh and invigorating. Watercolours, cold beers and disagreeable thoughts were often his sole companionship. He couldn’t get away from himself or his feelings no matter how he tamped them down. Celeste would offer some excitement in an otherwise dreary life, and hopefully, she wasn’t the type interested in attachments like ‘happily ever after’.
Secondly, he had a rare coin in his pocket, worth half a million dollars, and he needed to keep it hidden, which meant squirreling himself away from his cousin and his friend. Neither of whom had many scruples when it came to committing crimes. His studio apartment on Whittier Avenue
had been ransacked, quite probably in search of the coin, which looked like any other penny, unless one had some knowledge about rare coins. Not that he knew much, but he’d sensed the coin was valuable after he’d wiped off the grime. A 1943 wheat penny, the coin shop’s owner had told him, was extremely rare. There were only twelve in the world that he knew of. So after his apartment had been turned upside down, Taylor had decided that Celeste’s apartment would do while he explored his alternatives in more ways than one.
He marvelled that she had so occupied his thoughts that she had been the first one he’d considered after he’d found himself in a whole heap of trouble.
If he told his dad, who really did happen to be the police chief in Pine Woods, the old man wouldn’t believe him, as usual. Since Taylor had been eight, the chief had accused his only son of making up his own rules and living by them without regard to others. He’d pretty much disassociated himself from Taylor, who was happier without his father’s bitching and strong-arming. Taylor had never known his mother, so she hadn’t been part of the picture while he’d grown up, constantly fighting the world around him, creating rules he understood to combat society. His old man had never been real supportive, and so Taylor didn’t expect him to be that now. Taylor grew up distrusting everyone, from his schoolteachers, to his cousins, to his few friends. Most people stayed away from him since he was too much trouble to handle.
Over the years, if there was some hope of connecting with his dad on an emotional level, they’d almost instantly began arguing and ended up shouting and cursing at each other, which only resulted in driving them even further apart. Being the police chief’s son was hell. Being the police chief’s son and hiding a deadly secret would land him in purgatory, unable to save his own roasting skin.
He watched as Celeste bit into her lip then her posture straightened, and with a twinkle in her eye that told him she was about to come out and play, she said, “Well, now that all the formalities are out of the way, why don’t we settle down and learn our manners?” She took a seat in an armchair across from the couch.
Taylor liked spunky woman. Celeste had rallied fast and come out with her punching gloves on. “So you’re going to make this difficult, are you?” he asked.
It wasn’t bad enough that everything in his apartment had been damaged beyond repair, including watercolour paintings he’d laboured over for days, but he’d have to deal with the inflexible Celeste Heplewich. His favourite lunch time haunt was the Duck N Diner, and he’d had ample opportunity to watch her. She always ate a Caesar Salad with a glass of water and always wore a similar blouse and skirt. He knew who she was from asking questions of other patrons, who were mostly courthouse staff.
“You bet. I usually do when strange men barge into my apartment at midnight.”
Taylor glanced at his wristwatch. How time flew when looking through the remnants of what had been your life.
“Is it a regular occurrence?” He judged on first impressions, and they rarely failed to pan out. From what he’d seen at the Duck N Diner, he’d instantly liked Celeste from across the room, even though she dressed primly. For the oddest reason, he felt he could trust her. He hungered to find out what she hid under her quilted pink robe. If she lost the fuzzy slippers, she’d be real nice. That and the curler at the top of her bangs. She looked like an android out of a science fiction movie. At the coffee shop, he’d seen how slender her legs were, although he hadn’t had much of a chance to see anything above her knees. She’d worn a bulky, pink sweater, which he didn’t understand since the temperature had been in the mid-seventies. Apparently, she preferred to dress like a delectable mouse—a pink one.
She harrumphed, and her cheeks flushed scarlet. “No, it is not.”
He’d stepped on her toes. With the way she dressed, she didn’t entice men. He couldn’t wrap his brain around it, but he wanted her and badly. She wasn’t wearing makeup or a mini-skirt or high heels, but there was something about her that had sparked his interest big time, and it wasn’t about to let go.
“You invited me in quickly,” he hedged on the truth. He’d pushed past her in his eagerness to get away from the would-be penny thieves.
“I did not. You barged in here,” she retorted, her eyes going wide. “You’re lying.”
“We might as well be nice to each other since we have to make it through the weekend,” he drawled. It was going to be a short one with her in his arms. Man, but did he have a hard-on just thinking of the possibilities.
“You’re only staying the next few minutes,” she ground out.
Which, he saw in her expression, was a few minutes too long. Yet he saw the interest and arousal in her eyes under her thin, black-rimmed glasses. He shrugged. Sparks were flying every which way. “The next few days,” he corrected nonchalantly. He cleared his throat. “When I first saw you,” he continued, sharing with someone for one of the few times in his life, “at the Duck N Diner, I thought you were the most attractive woman in the room.” That I was safe from your womanly wiles, that I was as good as dead below the waist. I was so wrong.
Her eyes rounded noticeably before they narrowed.
That’s it, Tay, just let her know what you think of her. Celeste, you didn’t stand at risk of being seduced by me. I wouldn’t be tempted in the least. That is until I saw your ankles under that long, black skirt. “Believe me, you’ve caused me a couple of sleepless nights.” Oh the nights he’d tossed and turned after the vision of her slim ankles. He’d dreamed of his mouth grazing the skin on her calves, and as he travelled upward, he’d smell the scent of her arousal, fragranced with musk. And he would look up her body to her breasts and know he was just beginning his exhilarating exploration.
He sighed.
If a blush could redden, she now accomplished the impossible. She was falling for his avowal, which was what he wanted. So why did he feel like a rotten heel?
“You whirled out the door at the Duck N Diner, and I wanted to know more about you.” Liar, you feel safe with a woman for the first time in your twenty-five years. She’s not threatening your masculinity. She won’t scream ‘Take me to the altar!’ You’re safe from her. You can trust her. She’s not wily, although she is aroused and wants you.
Celeste glanced over his shoulder and pulled her housecoat tighter around her waist, not that there was any danger of catching a peek at what lay underneath. She was bundled up tighter than an unfurled rosebud. She swallowed hard, and he sensed she was struggling to find the right words to lambaste him. Her eyes flashed fire.
“There are other ways to get to know women,” she began, hugging herself tighter.
Taylor wished she were holding him like that.
“Like over coffee or taking them dancing or to a movie.” She looked him up and down, as if appraising him. Her eyes lingered too long on his hard-on before they travelled down then back up again. Her gaze darted behind him again.
Were Roscoe and Terry already here? Impossible. They didn’t know about Celeste. Hell, he hadn’t known he’d be hanging out with her until he’d left his wrecked apartment.
; Just to make sure, he glanced over his shoulder. Nothing but a computer there. Taylor laughed disparagingly at himself. How could he have thought Roscoe and Terry could be hiding out here? He returned his focus to Celeste.
She gnawed on her lip, and the blush travelled higher. “I’m just a diversion for you, aren’t I?” She didn’t seem to be bothered by the revelation. “What are you hiding from? A raging girlfriend? An angry husband?” she demanded, waving her hands in the air. “Or let me guess…you want to make your current girlfriend jealous by hanging out with a girl you think is safe from your charms? Or are you just creating a diversion for yourself because that’s what you enjoy doing with hapless women?”
Man, had she pegged him right. She was a smart lady. Now, he felt even more like a heel, a muddy, dirt-encrusted heel. He frowned. “I can’t even remember when I last heard the word ‘hapless’, but none of those are true.” Except for perhaps the diversion part. If Roscoe and Terry were to find him, then what a hell of a way to go, in the sack with some hot chick.
“Men!” she threw at him angrily. “All you know how to do is use women!”
He knew what was coming before it happened. Awkwardly, she jumped up, caught her slipper in the large rug and started to fall towards the wooden coffee table. He leapt to his feet and caught her in his arms. She smelled of flowers and heaven, he decided hastily.
Celeste quivered against him, her hands clinging to his arms as if they were made of steel. “Oh.” She sighed and gazed into his face with glistening, dark-brown eyes. Her lips were plump and parted and so darned kissable.
It was then Taylor knew he was lost, that he’d probably never stood a chance.
Chapter Two
Celeste tilted back her head. Taylor’s arms were muscled and big, and even through her housecoat, she felt his erection pressing against her stomach.
“Oh,” she managed dryly before she regained her footing and pushed away from him. He was far too tempting and dangerous. Her mind detailed all the reasons she should shove him into the hallway and slam the door while her traitorous body urged her to take him in her arms. She needed to put some distance, at least a couple hundred miles, between them.
“Do you know older people die early Monday mornings?” she asked inanely then wondered where in the heck the question had come from. Countless times, Marly told her she was a walking encyclopaedia, crammed with facts.
Smoothly, Taylor said, “But it’s Friday night, and both of us are young.” He grinned wickedly. “Unless you’re hiding something under that housecoat.”
“I certainly am not!” she replied, outraged. How dare he think of what was under her clothes? It was a thin, ragged nightie, but that was none of his business.
His face became unreadable. She had to keep him from seeing the computer screen and her Kiss Me blog. If he laid eyes on it, she’d die. Her heart pounded against her chest. He’d already turned in that direction once. What had he seen? Just a computer screen, she hoped. Lord, that’s all she needed was for him to read even a portion of Kiss Me then he’d get the wrong idea.
She straightened her shoulders and urged herself not to panic. He wouldn’t know it was her blog, would he? She relaxed, but he was still far too close, and his powerfully built body seemed to take up so much of the room.
He chucked a thumb under her chin and lifted her face. Her gaze met his intensely curious eyes. “You can’t stay here,” she told him bravely, although she had no way of backing up her words if he decided to argue. She knew from experience and listening to stories, that the cops defended their own, and Taylor was the police chief’s son, and according to Jasmine, he had a bad boy reputation.
“I swear to keep my hands off you, Celeste. If you want,” she heard him say through the thick fog that surrounded her brain. “I just need a place to stay until this all blows over.”
He was lying.
She wanted him to touch her, to make love to her. After all, it was Friday night. Her nipples puckered under the thick material and the sensitive flesh rubbed against the cotton. “What kind of trouble are you in?” she rasped out, leaning forward.
He shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, and just in case, you’re probably safer if you don’t know.” His mouth was so close to her lips. His breathing warmed her cheeks. How incongruous was it that he wanted a place to stay, had barged in and all she wanted was sex?
“I’d rather know,” she murmured, as his mouth neared hers. He hadn’t shaved for a few hours, judging from the stubble on his cheeks. The fine hairs gave him a devilish appearance, which she found sexy and attractive.
“No, you don’t.” His moist lips claimed hers, nibbling her lower lip, savouring her upper with a deliciousness that left her spellbound. Her whole body reacted like a harp played by a master. Every muscle quivered, and her knees shook so violently, she barely kept on her feet. She couldn’t allow him to make love to her, but she wanted him despite her inner protests to the contrary.
He stepped back, breaking the contact between their lips and their bodies. “This is one bad idea.”
No, it’s not. It’s a good idea as long as you leave after making love to me, so we don’t do this wild thing again. I’m not the kind of woman who hops into bed and has sex with whatever guy is available.
Celeste squinted and gave him a questioning gaze. “Are you pretending to be in trouble?” She should have saved her breath.
Taylor frowned. “I’m really in trouble now,” he muttered, and once again he kissed her, deeply this time, and her world rocked with the passion behind it. If he was in trouble, she wanted to know about it, but she suspected she knew exactly what it was. He wanted sex and nothing would stop him, and she realised with a twinge of guilt, she wouldn’t stop him, either. Right at her fingertips, she had a real, live man instead of a tiny vibrator.
Her hands wound around his neck, holding onto him for dear life and to keep her violently shaking knees from collapsing under her. She grazed the stubble on his cheek as he groaned, and his erection pressed harder and more insistently against her stomach. At his ear, she whispered a naughty invitation. “If you want to see what’s under the robe, why don’t you take it off yourself?”
His mouth trembled, and his eyes glazed over. Now who was holding the power over whom?
Taylor’s first impression of Celeste had been that she was shy and withdrawn when it came to men, but after her quiet invitation, he amended the impression. She was one hot chick!
“You really want this?” he asked. He might be an asshole when it came to agreeing with his dad, but he respected women.
Her arms came down to his hands, and she smiled at him languorously. “I don’t know what the part about you needing a place to stay for a couple of days was about, but go ahead, undress me and satisfy your curiosity.”
“Do you really need those glasses?” he muttered, thrilled that slowly he was uncovering the real Celeste Heplewich.
“No, only for reading.”
Carefully, he reached out and slid her glasses off her face. “That’s better,” he remarked with relief. “You reminded me of my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Bowman.” Mrs. Bowman had been the one person in his growing up years who had believed in him, who had told him he could make something of himself and had encouraged his childish painting.
Celeste gave him a seductive smile. “Can’t have that, can we?”
“No,” he grunted, folding the glasses and setting them on the coffee table. “How long is your hair?”
“I think you’re an expert at undressing women, so why don’t you unfasten the pins and see for yourself?” She lifted her index finger and sucked lightly on it.
Distracted, he watched the frosty pink nail slide into her mouth ever so delicately, ever so erotically. His cock got immeasurably harder. This woman did for him what none other had ever done, luring, teasing and, he sensed, seducing him expertly.
The temperature in the small room skyrocketed to a zillion degrees. He shrugged
out from his jacket and allowed it to carelessly fall to the floor in a heap around his boots. He was lost for sure.
The pins had been woven in so expertly, they were hard to find in the silky tendrils. He pulled out one after the other and her hair fell in riveting cascades down her shoulders.
“It’s so long,” he commented, noting the luxurious thick strands fall. He ran his fingers through her hair to straighten the curly tendrils. Just the touch of his hands in her hair was supercharged with emotion and erotic beyond his wildest fantasies. “I had no idea,” he whispered softly.
Celeste blinked. “No idea about what?”
“That a woman’s hair could feel so luxurious and erotic,” he responded. Holding his breath, he stepped back and surveyed her.
Her lips curved in a sultry smile. “You have your own attraction,” she murmured, her eyes downcast before her gaze returned to his face.
Overjoyed that this interlude was a mutual discovery, he groaned. “If your eyes, hair and ankles are so beautiful, then what does the rest of you look like?” he wondered aloud.
She burst out laughing. “I’ve never heard that particular combination before. Eyes, hair, and ankles. I’ll have to remember that.”
Taylor was suddenly and uncharacteristically shy. “Why would you want to remember that?” he queried, licking his lips. What was under her frumpy housecoat?
She lifted her shoulders in a half shrug. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe for the next novel I write.”
His breath caught in his throat. “You’re writing a novel?” Was it about the dreary life of a court reporter, or did she write about the guys she lured into her bed?
Kiss Me...If You Dare Page 2
