Undercover Lover (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Jane Leopold Quinn

  He had no response. Good God, she was right.

  “Sam, Dominguez and Tommy Kane were the bad guys. They and others just like them are the ones out there filling kids with drugs. You’re one of the good guys trying to stop them. Don’t let them win by taking love away from you. Take a chance with me. Trust me.” Her voice softened. “I love you.”

  She must have opened the door, because all of a sudden he could hear the sounds outside in the squad room, phones ringing and people talking.

  “It all boils down to the fact that you have to make the decision. You know where I live if you change your mind.”

  He could tell from her voice that she almost broke down. Then the sounds of the squad disappeared. She’d closed the door on him.

  After all this, she’d still take him back?

  * * * *

  I told him to come to me when he was ready. If. It took all I had to leave him. You can’t force someone to love you. I was right to tell him to make his own decisions? There’s nothing more I can do. Now, it’s up to him.

  God damn his misguided stubbornness.

  Liz put her soup bowl in the dishwasher, wiped her hands, and leaned against the counter. A whole body flush stole over her. Even her hair felt sweaty. They’d had so much fun wandering around New Orleans that day, and God, what a night! Her thoughts turned bittersweet. No amount of passion had erased her hurt and anger when he turned up missing the next morning. Now, she believed he’d left her a note. He hadn’t lied.

  * * * *

  “Yeah?”

  “Is that the way you always answer the phone?”

  Oh, crap.

  Sam dug himself out of his funk. His mother didn’t need to know what an asshole he was. He forced his voice to a decent tone. “Yeah, Mom, most of the time.”

  “Oh, well, as long as it’s not just with me.”

  “Ha ha, Mom.” Dorothy Bolt, an expert at being a sugar-coated toughie, had put up with four men and knew how to handle them.

  “What’s up? Everyone okay?”

  “Yes, honey, everyone’s fine. Jeff and Sherry are arguing about, or at least discussing, what flavor wedding cake to have.”

  “And what’s so hard about choosing chocolate?” He had a long-standing love of chocolate anything. He lost his train of thought for a moment. The image of licking the dark, sweet confection off Liz’s body sent his head reeling.

  “…you love it, but Sherry wants worms.”

  “Yeah…unh… Hunh?” He hadn’t been paying attention.

  Dorothy laughed outright. “Worms. Sherry wants worms. You’re not listening.”

  His brain rejoined the conversation. “Oh, yuck!”

  “I thought that would get your attention.” Her laugh chimed in his ear. “Do you have your tux yet?”

  “Ugh, the wedding’s still two months off.”

  “But you don’t want to wait ‘till the last minute. You’ll end up with some powder blue prom thing.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “Mom, I think you’re talking about you and Dad. I seem to recall some old pictures.”

  “Oh, God, those were the days. Everything was so much simpler.”

  “Well, yeah, if a powder blue tux was your biggest decision.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. It’s just the way I want to remember it.”

  He couldn’t respond. He was working on his guilt feelings about Petey, but he wasn’t there yet.

  As if sensing a downturn in the conversation, she asked, “What are you doing home this evening? Or are you going out later?”

  “Unh…I’m just watching TV.”

  “Sam,” she began hesitantly. “What about Liz?”

  “What about her?” he replied warily.

  “Well, I thought…maybe…”

  “You mean because she saved my worthless hide?”

  “Sam, no one thinks of your hide as worthless.” By her tone of voice, she was obviously exasperated with him. “And, yes, you do owe her a thank you.”

  “Mom, the best thing I can do for her is to keep away. She suffered enough because of me.”

  “Does she feel that way? Does she blame you?”

  “I’m sure she does.”

  “Sam…”

  “Well, she should.”

  “I thought we had this ironed out. What those bad people did to Liz and to Petey is not your fault.”

  “But I set the wheels in motion.”

  “Stop it, Sam! Stop playing the martyr. Stop pushing love away because of some over-inflated sense of responsibility.”

  “But it all is my fault.”

  “Damn it! Am I going to have to get rough with you?”

  “Mom, calm down…”

  “Don’t you tell me what to do. I’m your mother. All I want is for you to be happy.” She started sniffling, on the breaking edge. “You deserve to be happy. You deserve to fall in love and have babies.” Then added, “Preferably after getting married.”

  He couldn’t help chuckling.

  “Do not laugh! Liz seems like a perfectly nice young lady. But if she’s not the one for you, someone else is.”

  “Okay, okay, Mom.”

  “Don’t patronize me, buster. Don’t let a good woman get away because you’re too afraid to take a chance.”

  “I’m not afraid…”

  “Yes, you are. I’ve waited long enough. I want daughters-in-law and grandchildren.”

  “You’re getting Sherry, and, if I know Jeff, you’ll get your grandkids sooner rather than later.”

  “Oh, Sam, we’re talking about you.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “Honey, you’re a wonderful guy, and you deserve a wonderful girl.”

  “But Liz may not be the one after all. How can I be sure?” He felt tired and deflated.

  “You don’t always know right away. Sometimes you do, and sometimes you’re pretty sure.” His mom paused. “Do you want to see her again?”

  Silence. He’d tried so hard to ignore thoughts of her. Tried very, very hard not to go to the window to check her out.

  “Hon?”

  “Yeah, Mom?”

  “Would you call her? For me?”

  “Mom…” He heaved himself out of his chair, kicking at the ottoman.

  “No, I mean it. I said we wanted to have her over for dinner to thank her. Maybe this weekend. Yes, that’s it. You call her for me. Okay?”

  “Damn it, Mom.” He paced his tiny living space like a caged tiger.

  “Don’t swear at your mother, young man. Do this one thing for me, and I swear I’ll never pester you again.”

  He barked a laugh. “And why don’t I believe that?”

  “Sam, I’m serious now. Call her. Invite her over for next Saturday night.”

  “Saturday night!”

  “Yes. Let’s say six-thirty. We’ll see you both then. Oh, gotta go. Your dad’s wanting his hot fudge sundae.” She raised her voice, “I’m coming, Carter.” Back to Sam, she added, “Love you, sweetie. Bye.”

  Well, that was pleasant. The woman’s a steamroller. Why did she have to bring up Liz? What if we hook up, and she can’t hack it? I might be on duty all night, and she’d be home waiting for me.

  The fear doubled him over. So many thoughts. So many pictures in his head. Coming home to warm and sexy Liz. If she were sleeping, would she mind if he woke her by climbing into bed and kissing her all over?

  How will I know if I don’t try? Maybe it could work. I just don’t want to get her held hostage or shot on my account.

  Other cops have families.

  Children. Liz with a baby. Pregnant. Her narrow waist growing with his kid. He’d like to give a kid the same kind of life he’d had growing up. She’d give a baby beauty and courage.

  His thoughts wouldn’t let him alone. The more he brooded, the more possible it became. He already knew they suited sexually. More than suited. Even with experience, she was still innocent in some ways, but she hadn’t been afraid to do the thing
s he wanted. She’d enjoyed being tied up.

  He found himself at the window overlooking her coach house. She moved around in her bedroom, slipping into clothing, bending at the waist to fluff her hair.

  Shit! She’s going out.

  Chapter 22

  Sitting at the bar of the Cedar Room, Liz felt like a million bucks. Maybe half a million. She looked hot. Black leather mini skirt, thigh highs, and three inch spikes emphasized her slim legs. With a red tank, she defiantly wore the amber fairy necklace as her good luck charm. It had been given to her with love. Although Sam had apparently decided he couldn’t be with her, the necklace reminded her of their intense emotional and physical connection in New Orleans. She traced a finger over the delicate beads, felt them warm against her skin.

  She intended to move on with her life and felt like celebrating her survival from kidnappers and bullet wounds with chocolate martinis. Mmm… mmm… mmm. A chocolate martini, a stool at the bar, and a handsome man next to her—yes, that’s the ticket. Sipping slowly, she responded to the man’s question. No, she didn’t live around here. Oh, Lord, this was going to be a long night. In her peripheral vision, a familiar figure strolled in. “Gak.” She swallowed hard and gasped for breath.

  What the hell is he doing here? Be cool. Don’t let him see his effect on you. But her heart still pattered in excitement.

  She pretended an interest in the conversation, hoping her eyes didn’t roll to the back of her head in boredom. Maybe Sam wouldn’t spot her. Maybe she could slip out. She certainly had no more interest in staying here.

  Put the glass on the bar and…

  A hot, wet drift of breath washed over her shoulder.

  “There you are, darling. I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  Her eyes went wide as the man she’d been listening to scowled, probably thinking she’d made a fool of him. Covering her tension, she turned, making her gaze much more casual than she felt, and said, “Do I know you?” Zing. That got him. Sam’s eyes narrowed as if he knew her game.

  The other poor man soon withered under Sam’s testosterone-charged glower. He muscled his way in between the two stools, to loom intimately over her.

  “Well, ah…” the man behind Sam sputtered.

  “That necklace is beautiful on you.”

  His rough, jungle cat purr was so quiet she almost didn’t hear. Her eyebrow lifted, her head tilted then she realized she’d heard him right. But that wasn’t their problem. There had always been a physical attraction between them. His face poised mere inches from hers, the heat in his dark eyes telling her all sorts of things about lust and sex. She wanted love. Did he? Lust wasn’t enough, not any more. She stiffened and turned, focusing her attention on the burl-veneered bar. If her heartbeat hammered any faster, she’d pass out.

  “My mom invited you to dinner.” He slid his hands around her waist and pulled her, shoulder first, into the shelter of his arms, screening her from Mr. Boring.

  “This is why you came here? To invite me to dinner?” A drop of perspiration trickled down between her breasts. She gripped the bar, afraid to let go. Afraid she’d fall. Afraid to look at him.

  “No.” He slid his fingers under the fairy necklace and splayed them over the skin of her chest.

  Her lips parted on a soft sigh. His heat surrounded her.

  “Dance with me?”

  His voice in her ear, his steamy breath bathing her neck completely melted her. She held her breath as he moved his hand from her chest to caress her jaw, gently back and forth, broadening the movements to stroke her earlobe, then trace her lips with his thumb. She resisted the urge to draw his thumb into her mouth. “Why are you doing this to me?” She closed her eyes and arched her neck in pleasure.

  As if she had no volition of her own, she allowed him to coax her off the stool and to be enfolded in his embrace on the dance floor. She held her arms in front of her, her fists tightly clenched as a barrier. After everything they’d said to each other, what brought him here now? She wanted it to be a good reason. She felt the strength in his arms around her waist holding her tightly. He swayed back and forth in place, his cheek next to hers. Just holding her.

  God, he feels good, so utterly male. Strong and warm and virile.

  But then, she already knew that. Her fingers unclenched. She needed to touch him.

  Be careful, girl. You don’t want another love ‘em and leave ‘em chapter.

  Her palms rested on his chest, cupped over the intense beating of the heart beneath his T-shirt. Without thought, she rubbed her fingers over his nipples, biting her lower lip as a low moan escaped before she could call it back.

  He responded by wrapping long fingers around her nape, directing her head up, her lips to his. Heat, wet delicious heat. Lips, firm and full, pressed sensuously on hers. Oh, God, right here on the dance floor. She broke away for a breath of much needed air.

  Her wants, her needs and desires for Sam Bolt launched her own responsive passion. Angling her head to meet his kiss, she slid her arms up his shoulders and around his neck, clutching the long, thick strands of his hair.

  His voice tickled, moist and hot, in her ear. “Let’s go home, baby.”

  He just wanted sex. Her heart shattered.

  You fool. Fell for it again, hunh?

  “Noo…” She slid her hands to his shoulders and pushed. “You’ve been out of my life for, what, God, I don’t know any more. No calls, no visits, no nothing. If sex is all you want, forget it.” She wanted him to hurt as much as she did.

  He licked his lips, lowered his lashes for a second then raised his dark, haunted gaze to hers. “I’m an idiot.” He lifted his hand to cup her cheek, dipped his thumb to hold her chin. “I’m so sorry I put you in jeopardy.”

  “Is this all because you feel responsible for me?”

  “Yeah, partly.”

  She pushed harder against his chest.

  “No, don’t pull away, baby.” He held her upper arms. “I’ll always feel responsible for you.”

  She barely heard the music of the jazz combo over the hammering of her heart, and, in a room full of people, she felt completely alone with him. “Sam, this is just too difficult. I don’t want you to be here because you feel you owe me.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, that’s not why I’m here.” His expression took on an earnestness she hadn’t seen before. “When we weren’t dealing with muggers and murderers and bullets weren’t flying, I thought we had something good going.”

  Their faces inches apart, her gaze trapped in his, she said, “Yeah, me too.” She could scarcely breathe, hadn’t let herself believe how much she wanted to hear these words from him.

  “From the first minute I saw you, you fascinated me.” His warm, moist breath bathed her cheeks.

  “You mean aroused? Come on, be honest.” She searched his eyes, very dark in the dimly lit bar.

  “Yeah, that too, but it’s more. Liz,” his voice lowered to a soft, sensual confession. “I love you.”

  Her heart fluttered hopefully. “Love?” He’d said that at the hospital, but he’d thought she couldn’t hear. He’d put her through so much, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. “Because I saved your life?”

  He gathered her into his arms again. She couldn’t resist relaxing into the peace and safety against his chest.

  “Darling Liz, you saved my life all right, but not how you think.” He nuzzled her ear, his steamy, wet breath tickling her neck.

  “What do you mean?” she whispered, her resistance fading fast.

  “You make me want what I didn’t think I could ever have.” He brushed his lips over her eyes, breathing lightly on the side of her cheek.

  She loved the feel of his soft beard on her lips and chin. “What…?” Her voice was a dreamy, mesmerized sigh.

  “I know I’ve been a putz, but I’m here now, and if you’ll give me a chance, I’ll do everything humanly possible to make you happy. Come home. I want to make love to you.”

  Thankfully,
he held her up because her shaky knees might give way. They did that a lot around him. He locked his arm tightly around her waist, his erection pressed hard and hot, even through layers of clothes, against her stomach.

  “What do you want,” she persisted, cupping his cheek, sliding her fingers through his close-cropped beard, kissing the side of his neck. His words, his mouth did torturous things to her, and the feel of his strong, firm body touching her from knee to chest combined to make her listen.

  “I want you beside me for the rest of our lives. I want to marry you, to have children with you.” His voice broke. He wrapped a hand around her nape, cupped her head. “Look at me, Liz. I need you. I want to make love to you. I can’t let you go.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. He said everything she wanted to hear.

  “Baby, why did you go outside after I’d told you to stay in your house?” he asked in an agonized whisper.

  “I went out to warn you, you idiot! You could have been shot.” She desperately, tightly, gripped handfuls of his shirt.

  “And you were. I was terrified you’d died.” He held her face in the V of his fingers and thumb.

  She looked into the darkness of his eyes, saw the fear for her. Believed it. Her heart turned over. “But I’m not. I survived for you. To love you.”

  * * * *

  She didn’t notice much in the cab ride home. He had his hand inside her top, completely engulfing her breast as they kissed in the back seat. Safely inside the front door of her house, he kissed her again, his fingers entwined in her hair, holding her head still. His lips brushed her cheeks, over her eyelids, down her nose, across to her ears. Wanting, needing him, she begged, “Kiss me again.” He obliged by closing his mouth over hers, by spearing his tongue inside. Her tongue danced with his, just as fiercely, just as passionately. He pulled her tank over her head, cool air bathed her shoulders. His big, hard body, here for the taking, tightening her nipples. “Sam,” she cried when he moved his mouth to the lace edge of her bra.

  “You have the best underwear, sweetheart.” His fingertip traced the trim of the scallops, following the trail of lace flowers as they led to her nipple. “And I love what it holds, baby,” he whispered huskily as his nose nuzzled over the same path his fingers had taken.