The Stanislaski Series Collection, Volume 1

by Nora Roberts

  She shook her swimming head. “We should sit down. We shouldn’t do this.”

  “I want to touch you, every inch of you. And taste you. I want to make you crazy.”

  He already was. If she didn’t manage to slow things down, her overcharged system was likely to explode. “Two steps back,” she said on a long breath, and took just that. His hands remained at her waist, but at least she could breathe again. At least she managed two gulps of air before she looked into his eyes and the breath backed up in her lungs again. “Too much, too fast, Muldoon. I’m not a spontaneous type of person.”

  What she was was a volcano ready to erupt. He was damn sure going to be there when the ground started to shake. But he didn’t intend to scare her off, either. “Hey, you want time. I can give you an hour. Two, if you really want me to suffer.”

  She shook her head, edging back to the table. “Let’s just say I’ll let you know if and when I’m ready to take this any further.”

  “She wants me to suffer,” Zack said under his breath. When she didn’t sit, he reached for his wallet. “I take it we’re leaving.”

  “An early evening,” she reminded him. And she wanted badly to get outside, where the air could cool her blood.

  “A deal’s a deal.” He tossed bills onto the table. “Why don’t we walk back? A little exercise might help us both sleep tonight.”

  A twenty-block hike, Rachel mused. It couldn’t hurt.

  * * *

  “Cold?” he asked a short time later.

  “No. It’s nice.” But he slipped an arm around her shoulders anyway. “I don’t often get a chance to just walk. Mostly it’s a dash from my place to the office, from the office to the courthouse.”

  “What do you do when you’re not dashing?”

  “Oh, I go to the movies, window-shop, visit the family. In fact, I was thinking it might be good for Nick to go with me one Sunday. Have some of Mama’s home cooking, listen to one of Papa’s stories, see how my brothers harass me.”

  “Just Nick?”

  She slanted him a look. “I suppose we could make room for Nick’s brother.”

  “It’s been a long time since I—since either of us had a family meal. How about the cop? I can’t see him piping us aboard.”

  “I’ll handle Alex.” Now that she’d suggested it, her mind began to turn quickly. “You know, Natasha and her family are due to visit in a couple of weeks. Things will be crowded and crazy. It might be the perfect opportunity to toss Nick into your not-so-average-family type of situation. I’ll see what I can work out.”

  “I know I thanked you before, but I don’t think I know how to tell you how much I appreciate what you’re doing for him.”

  “The court—”

  “That’s bilge, Rachel.” They reached the steps of her building, and he turned her to face him. “You’re not just filing weekly reports or representing a client. You put yourself out for Nick right from the start.”

  “Okay, so I’ve got a weak spot for bad boys. Don’t let it get around.”

  “No, what you’ve got is class, and a good heart.” He liked the way she looked in the shadowy light, the vitality that pulsed from her like breath, the snap of energy and embarrassment in her eyes. “It’s a tough combination to beat.”

  She shrugged under his hands. “Now you’re going to make me blush, Muldoon, so let’s not get sloppy. If things work out the way we want, you can buy me more flowers at the end of the two months. We’ll call it square.” He let her back up one step, but then held her firm. She was uneasy, but she wasn’t surprised. “Listen, it’s been nice, but…”

  “I don’t figure you’re going to ask me in.”

  “No,” she said definitely, remembering how her body had reacted to him in a crowded club. “I’m not.”

  “So I’ll just have to take care of this out here.”

  “Zack…”

  “You know I’m not going to let you go without kissing you, Rachel.” To tease them both, he skimmed his lips over her jaw. “Especially when I only have to touch you to know all the want’s not on my side.”

  “This is never going to work,” she murmured, but her arms were already sliding around him.

  “Sure it will. We just put our lips together, and what happens happens.”

  This time she knew what to expect, and braced. It made no difference at all. The same heat, the same rush, the same power. The same reckless, unrelenting need. Had she said it was too much? No, it wasn’t enough. She was afraid she could never get enough. How could she have lived her entire life without knowing what it was to be truly needy?

  “I’m not getting involved this way,” she murmured against his mouth. “Not with you. Not with anyone.”

  “Okay. Fine.” Ruthlessly, he dragged her head back and plundered. A flash fire erupted between them until he felt singed down to the bone. He all but whimpered when she nipped impatiently at his lower lip. Images began to cartwheel in his head—him scooping her up and carrying her inside, falling with her into a big, soft bed. Making love with her on some white, deserted beach, with the sun beating down on her naked, golden skin. Waves pounding against the shore as she cried out his name.

  “Hey, buddy.”

  The voice behind him was nothing more than an irritating buzzing in his head. Zack would cheerfully have ignored it, but he felt the slight prick of a knife at his back. Keeping Rachel behind him, he turned and looked into the pale, sooty-eyed face of the mugger.

  “How about I let you keep the babe, and you hand over your wallet? Hers, too.” The mugger turned the knife so that the backwash of the streetlight caught the steel. “And let’s make it fast.”

  Blocking Rachel with his body, Zack reached in his back pocket. He could hear Rachel’s unsteady breathing as she unzipped her bag. It wasn’t impulse, but instinct. The moment the mugger’s eyes shifted, Zack lunged.

  With a scream in her throat and the Mace in her hand, Rachel watched them struggle. She saw the knife flash, heard the awful crunch of fist against bone before the blade clattered to the sidewalk. Then the mugger was racing off into the dark, and she and Zack were as alone as they’d been seconds before.

  He turned back to her. She noted that he wasn’t even breathing hard, and that the gleam in his eyes had only sharpened. “Where were we?”

  “You idiot.” The words were little more than a whisper as she fought to get them out over the lump of fear in her throat. “Don’t you know any better than to jump someone holding a knife? He could have killed you.”

  “I didn’t feel like losing my wallet.” He glanced down at the can in her hand. “What’s that?”

  “Mace.” Disgusted by the fact she hadn’t even popped off the safety top, she dropped it back in her purse. “I’d have given him a faceful if you hadn’t gotten in the way.”

  “Next time I’ll step aside and let you handle it.” He frowned down at the trickle of blood on his wrist and swore without much heat. “I guess he nicked me.”

  She went pale as water. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I thought it was his.” Annoyed more than hurt, he poked a finger through the rip in the arm of his sweater. “I got this on Corfu, my last time through. Damn it.” Eyes narrowed, he stared down the street, wondering if he had a chance of catching up with the mugger and taking the price of the sweater, if not its sentimental value, out of his hide.

  “Let me see.” Her fingers trembled as she pushed the sleeve up to examine the long, shallow slash. “Idiot!” she said again, and began to fumble in her purse for her keys. “You’ll have to come inside and let me fix it. I can’t believe you did something so stupid.”

  “It was the principle,” he began, but she cut him off with a stream of Ukrainian as she stabbed her key at the lock.

  “English,” he said, pressing a hand to his stomach as it began to knot. “Use English. You don’t know what it does to me when you talk in Russian.”

  “It’s not Russian.” Snatching his good arm, she pulled hi
m inside. “You were just showing off, that’s all. Oh, it’s just like a man.” Still pulling him, she stalked into the elevator.

  “Sorry.” He was fighting off a grin, trying to look humble. “I don’t know what got into me.” He certainly wasn’t going to admit he’d had worse scratches shaving.

  “Testosterone,” she said between her teeth. “You can’t help it.” She kept her hand on him until she’d gotten them inside her apartment. “Sit,” she ordered, and dashed into the bathroom.

  He sat, making himself at home by propping his feet on her coffee table. “Maybe I should have a brandy,” he called out. “In case I’m going into shock.”

  She hurried back out with bandages and a small bowl of soapy water. “Do you feel sick?” Scared all over again, she pressed a hand to his brow. “Are you dizzy?”

  “Let’s see.” Always willing to take advantage of an opportunity, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her mouth to his. “Yeah,” he said when he let her go. “You could say I’m feeling a little light-headed.”

  “Fool.” She slapped his hand aside, then sat down to clean the wound. “This could have been serious.”

  “It was serious,” he told her. “I hate having someone poke me in the back with a knife when I’m kissing a woman. Honey, if you don’t stop shaking, I’m going to have to get you a brandy.”

  “I’m not shaking—or if I am, it’s just because I’m mad.” She tossed her hair back and glared at him. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  To pay him back for the smirk, she dumped iodine over the wound. When he swore, it was her turn to smile. “Baby,” she said accusingly, but then took pity on him and blew the heat away. “Now hold still while I put a bandage on it.”

  He watched her work. It was very pleasant to feel her fingers on his skin. It seemed only natural that he should lean over to nibble at her ear.

  Fire streaked straight up her spine. “Don’t.” Shifting out of reach, she pulled his sleeve down over the fresh bandage. “We’re not going to pick things up now. Not here.” Because if they did, she knew there would be no backing off.

  “I want you, Rachel.” He caught her hand in his before she could stand. “I want to make love with you.”

  “I know what you want. I have to know what I want.”

  “Before we were interrupted downstairs, I think that was pretty clear.”

  “To you, maybe.” After a deep breath, she pulled her hand free and stood. “I told you, I don’t do things spontaneously. And I certainly don’t take a lover on impulse. If I act on the attraction I feel for you, I’ll do so with a clear head.”

  “I don’t think I’ve had a clear head since I laid eyes on you.” He stood, as well, but because it suddenly seemed important to both of them he kept his distance. “I realize how the saying goes about guys like me and women in every port. That’s not reality—not my reality, anyway. I’m not going to tell you I spent every liberty curled up with a good book, but…”

  “It’s not my business.”

  “I’m beginning to think it is, or could be.” The look in his eyes kept her from arguing. “I’ve been on land for two years, and there hasn’t been anybody important.” He couldn’t believe what he was saying, what he felt compelled to say, but the words just tumbled out. “I’ll be damned if there’s ever been anyone like you in my life.”

  “I have priorities…” she began. The words sounded weak to her. “And I don’t know if I want this kind of complication right now. We have Nick to think about, as well, and I’d rather we just take it slow.”

  “Take it slow,” he repeated. “I can’t give you any promises on that. I can promise that the first chance I get, when it’s just you and me, I’m going to do whatever it takes to shake up those priorities of yours.”

  She jammed nervous hands in her pockets. “I appreciate the warning, Muldoon. And here’s one for you. I don’t shake easily.”

  “Good.” His grin flashed before he walked to the door. “Winning’s no fun if it’s easy. Thanks for the first aid, Counselor. Lock your door.” He shut it quietly behind him and decided to walk home.

  At this rate, he was never going to get any sleep.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  She wasn’t avoiding him. Exactly. She was busy, that was all. Her caseload didn’t allow time for her to drop by Zack’s bar night after night and chat with the regulars. It wasn’t as if she were neglecting her duty. She had slipped in a time or two to talk with Nick in the kitchen. If she’d managed to get in and out without running into Zack, it was merely coincidence.

  And a healthy survival instinct.

  If she let her answering machine screen her calls at home, it was simply because she didn’t want to be disturbed unnecessarily.

  Besides, he hadn’t called. The jerk.

  At least she was making some progress where Nick was concerned. He had called her, twice. Once at her office, and once at home. She found his suggestion that they catch a movie together a hopeful sign. After all, if he spent an evening with her, he wouldn’t be hanging out with the Cobras, looking for trouble.

  After ninety minutes of car chases, gunplay and the assorted mayhem of the action-adventure he’d chosen, they settled down in a brightly lit pizzeria.

  “Okay, Nick, so tell me how it’s going.” His answer was a shrug, but Rachel gave his arm a squeeze and pressed. “Come on, you’ve had two weeks to get used to things. How are you feeling about it?”

  “It could be worse.” He pulled out a cigarette. “It’s not so bad having a little change in my pocket, and I guess Rio’s not so bad. It’s not like he’s on my case all the time.”

  “But Zack is?”

  Nick blew out a stream of smoke. He liked to watch her through the haze. It made her look more mysterious, more exotic. “Maybe he’s laid off a little. But it’s like tonight. I got the night off, right? But he wants to know where I’m going, who I’m going with, when I’ll be back. That kind of sh—” He caught himself. “That kind of stuff. I mean, hey, I’m going to be twenty in a couple of months. I don’t need a keeper.”

  “He’s a pushy guy,” Rachel said, trying to strike a balance between sympathy and sternness. “But he’s not only responsible for you in the eyes of the law—he cares about you.” Because his answering snort seemed more automatic than sincere, she smiled. “His style’s a little rough, but I’d have to say his intentions are good.”

  “He’s going to have to give me some room.”

  “You’re going to have to earn it.” She squeezed his hand to take the sting out of her words. “What did you tell him about tonight?”

  “I said I had a date, and he should butt out.” Nick grinned, pleased when he saw the answering humor in Rachel’s eyes. He’d have been very disappointed if he’d realized she was amused at the term date. “It’s like he’s got his life and I got mine. You know what I’m saying?”

  “Yes.” She drew a deep appreciative breath as their pizza arrived. “And what do you want to do with your life, Nick?”

  “I figure I’ll take what comes.”

  “No ambitions?” She took the first bite, watching him. “No dreams?”

  Something flickered in his eyes before he lowered them. “I don’t want to be serving drinks for a living, that’s for sure. Zack can have it.” After crushing out his cigarette, he applied himself to the pizza. “And no way I’m going into the damn navy, either. He swung that one by me the other day, and I shot it down big-time.”

  “Well, you seem to know what you don’t want. That’s a step.”

  He reached out to toy with the little silver ring on her finger. “Did you always want to be a lawyer?”

  “Pretty much. For a while I wanted to be a ballerina, like my sister. That’s when I was five. It only took about three lessons for me to figure out it wasn’t all tutus and toe shoes. Then I thought I might be a carpenter, like the men in my family, so I asked for a tool set for my birthday. I think I was eight.
I managed to build a pretty fair book rack before I retired.” She smiled, and his heart rate accelerated. “It took me a while to come to the conclusion that I couldn’t be what Natasha was, or Papa or Mama or anyone else. I had to find my own way.” She said it casually, hoping the concept would take root.

  “So you went to law school.”

  “Mmm…” Her eyes brightened as she studied him. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Sure.”

  “Perry Mason.” Laughing at herself, she scooped up another slice. “I was fascinated by those old reruns. You know, how there would always be this murder, and Perry would take the case when his client looked doomed. Lieutenant Tragg would have all this evidence, and Perry would have Della and Paul Drake out looking for clues to prove his client’s innocence. Then they’d go to court. Lots of objections, and ‘Your Honor, as usual the counsel for the defense is turning this proceeding into a circus.’ It would look bad for Perry. He’d be up against that smug-faced DA.”

  “Hamilton Berger,” Nick said, grinning.

  “Right. Perry would play it real close to the vest, dropping little hints to Della, but never spilling the whole thing. You just knew he had all the answers, but he would string it out. Then, always at the eleventh hour, he’d get the real murderer up on the witness stand, and he’d just hammer the truth out of him, until the poor slob would crumble like a cookie and confess all.”

  “Then he’d explain how he’d figured it all out in the epilogue,” Nick finished for her. “And you wanted to be Perry Mason.”

  “You bet,” Rachel agreed over a bite of pizza. “By the time I realized it wasn’t that black-and-white, and it certainly wasn’t that tidy, I was hooked.”

  “Ray Charles,” Nick said, half to himself.

  “What?”

  “It just made me think how listening to Ray Charles made me want to play the piano.”

  Rachel rested her chin on her folded hands and tried to ease the door open a little farther. “Do you play?”

  “Not really. I used to think it would be pretty cool. Sometimes I’d hang around this music store and fiddle around until they kicked me out.” The twinge of embarrassment made him brush the rest aside. “I got over it.”