Something About You

by Julie James

  A shoulder. He was going crazy over a fucking shoulder .

  He swore, turning to Wilkins. “What’s the deal with that sweater, anyway? Is there a reason she can’t keep herself clothed? Did she buy the wrong size? Seriously, somebody needs to throw a coat over that woman.” He shoved away from the bar. “I’m going to walk the room. Make sure everything is still secure.”

  AMY LEANED OVER and whispered in Cameron’s ear. “Okay, now he’s pacing back and forth.”

  “You don’t have to give me the play-by-play,” Cameron whispered back. “If I want to know what he’s doing, I’ll just look myself.”

  Of course, that’s exactly what she did. She snuck a quick glance across the room and watched as Jack did a loop around the bar, then looked back. When he saw her watching him, he turned and began crossing the room toward her, like a panther stalking its prey. From the intense look in his eyes—whatever he was about to say—he was a man on a mission.

  Sitting next to her, Amy was wide-eyed, mesmerized at the sight of Jack heading over in all his seemingly pissed-off-once-again glory. “I changed my mind, Cam. If this was all a big setup and he’s coming over to strip for me, I think I can handle it. I definitely can handle it.”

  Hearing Amy’s words, the other girls stopped talking. Following her gaze, they turned to watch as Jack approached. He stopped in front of the bed of women who lounged about like a sultan’s idle harem and stared down at Cameron.

  “I want to talk to you.”

  “Okay. Talk.”

  “Alone.”

  Cameron didn’t like being ordered around by Jack, but she didn’t want to make a scene in case he needed to discuss some security issue. With a nonchalant look, she slid off the bed—oopsie, another flash of leg, strange how that kept happening around him—and followed Jack out of the VIP room.

  He took her by the arm and led her through the hallway into a barely lit corridor.

  “You’re not going to kill me, are you?” she asked. From the look on his face, she was only partially teasing.

  “Not today.”

  He released his grip and paced the corridor in front of her. Cameron had no idea what he was so worked up about, but she looked him over closely right then and was satisfied to say that he looked nothing like a ham to her.

  More like a chocolate molten lava cake. A dessert so sinful, so luscious, so filled with inner heat it made a girl want to lick each and every crumb right off the plate. That was Jack Pallas.

  Cameron regrouped. “So am I supposed to guess, or do you want to tell me what this is all about?”

  “I think you know.”

  Oh, balls. He was going to bring up The Thing That Never Happened on her doorstep.

  “The investigation?” she asked hopefully.

  He threw her a dark look that reminded her why Jack Pallas was not a man to be trifled with.

  She leaned against the wall, thinking she might as well make herself comfortable. Jack stopped his pacing. His eyes ran over her.

  “We’re going to finish that talk of ours from the other night.” He crossed the hall and put one of his hands on the wall next to her. “You said that I saw what I wanted to see that morning at Davis’s office. Explain.”

  Cameron stared up at Jack defiantly. Ha—like he could intimidate her into talking. Well, he probably could; he could probably get anyone to talk eventually. But she was decidedly immune to any of his so-called sexual char—wow, he smelled fantastic. His shampoo, perhaps? Couldn’t be aftershave, with that I-just-rolled-out-of-bed scruff of his.

  Decidedly immune.

  “We’re back to this again?” Cameron asked, feigning disinterest.

  Jack put his second hand on the wall to the other side of her, trapping her in.

  She eyed her predicament. Wits don’t fail me now.“I think this constitutes false imprisonment, Agent Pallas.”

  “Probably. And I’m about to throw in an illegal interrogation.” He peered down into her eyes. “Let’s start at the beginning. Three years ago. Martino. You told me the decision not to file charges was yours.”

  “You think we’re going to have this conversation now? Like this?” Cameron gestured to their closeness.

  Slowly, Jack grinned. His voice was warmer now, whisky-rich. “Actually, I think this is perfect.” But his gaze remained unwavering. “Start talking, Cameron. I saw you come out of Davis’s office that morning. Why were you th—”

  They were plunged into darkness as all the lights in the club went out.

  Cameron felt Jack’s hand grip her arm. She felt his other hand brush against her chest as he reached underneath his blazer for his gun.

  Her eyes tried to adjust to the darkness, and she heard squeals of laughter and mixed voices coming from the VIP room. Despite that, the club seemed quiet. It took her a moment to realize the music had stopped.

  “The power went out?” she asked Jack.

  “Seems that way.” There was the sound of approaching footsteps and a creaking floorboard. Jack pulled her away from the wall. “Get behind me,” he ordered her. He turned, gun ready.

  A shadow stood at the end of the hall.

  Jack shifted, using his body as a shield to cover her.

  “Jack—it’s me,” Wilkins said through the dark. “You two all right?”

  Jack lowered his gun. He led Cameron out of the corridor, where the moonlight streamed through the windows and allowed her to see better.

  “Is the power out in the entire place?” he asked.

  “From what I can tell,” Wilkins said. His eyes fell on Cameron.

  She had never seen Wilkins look so serious. That, more than anything, scared her.

  “Do you think this has something to do with me?” she asked.

  Neither of the men answered her. “Go check it out,” Jack told Wilkins. “I’ll stay with her. Call me on my cell when you know something.”

  Wilkins nodded and took off.

  Jack slipped his hand into Cameron’s. “Stay close to me.”

  Her head was spinning with how fast everything had changed. She forced herself to stay calm.

  “I’m taking you to a more secure location until we get this sorted out,” Jack said.

  As he began to lead her away, they nearly ran into Amy, who stood in the doorway of the VIP room. Her eyes fell on Jack’s gun. “What’s going on? Where are you taking her?”

  “We need to move now,” Jack said low in Cameron’s ear.

  “Everything’s fine,” she told Amy. “Just stay with the other girls.”

  Before she could say anything else, Jack took her by the arm and led her away.

  NAVIGATING HIS WAY through the dark, Jack led Cameron through the maze of people hanging out in the hallway. People who, unlike him, enjoyed the thrill of the power outage.

  He needed a confined space, preferably one with a lock on the door.

  Having no such luck on the second floor, he found a back staircase and led Cameron upstairs. The first door on the right was shut. He pushed it open and barged in.

  The room was small. An office. A man and a scantily clad woman sprang apart at the desk.

  “What the hell?” the man asked, half pissed, half startled.

  “Who are you?” Jack demanded.

  “The manager. Who the fuck are you?”

  Jack gestured to the door. “Get out.”

  “Screw that. This is my office.”

  Jack gestured to the door, this time with his gun. “Get out.”

  The manager’s mouth fell open and he nodded. “We’re going.” He grabbed the girl and hurried out.

  Jack locked the deadbolt on the door behind them. He let go of Cameron’s hand so that he could check out the room. A small loveseat along the south wall, a steel file cabinet, and a desk with one rolling chair. No closets or other doors, but there was a large window that led out onto the fire escape. He tested the window and saw it rose easily enough. In case of an emergency, it would do.

  Realizing that Ca
meron had fallen quiet, he headed over. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay.” She paced around the room restlessly.

  “Stay away from the door,” Jack told her. “And the windows. Stick to the center of the room.”

  “Right. Sorry.” She moved quickly toward the desk, putting it between her and the door. She glanced down at her purse, then set it on the desk, as if wanting her hands free. “This is probably just a coincidence, right?”

  “I’ll tell you that when I know it.”

  In the moonlight, Jack saw her bite her lip anxiously. Then she put on a brave face and nodded. “Fair enough.”

  Jack felt something pull at him.

  “But if it makes you feel better, I don’t give a fuck what comes through that door. They’re not getting to you.”

  She gazed at him through the dark, surprised. Turning away, he walked over to the door and listened.

  Presumably following his lead, Cameron fell silent. The room was eerily quiet until the sound of his vibrating cell phone cut through the tension.

  Jack grabbed the phone out of his pocket, saw it was Wilkins, and answered. “Talk to me.”

  “We’re all clear.”

  “What’d you find out?” he asked, not yet abandoning his post at the door.

  “The power is out for the entire block,” Wilkins said. “I had our office patch me through to ComEd, who said they’ve got a power line down. They’ve got a team working on it as we speak.”

  Jack strode over to the window, looked outside, and saw that the buildings around them were dark as well. He spoke into the phone in a low voice. “Any chance this is a setup?”

  “Not likely. I talked to both the director in charge of the district and the foreman on site. It’s an underground power line—an overnight construction crew got sloppy trying to fix the water pipes to that church across the street and dug a little too deep. It’s just a coincidence, Jack.”

  Through the window, Jack could see the construction crew outside the church and several ComEd trucks. He looked over at Cameron. Her eyes stayed with him as she listened to his end of the conversation. “Thanks. We’ll meet you back at the VIP room.”

  “Where are you guys now?” Wilkins asked.

  “In an office on the third floor. We should be down in just a few minutes.” He hung up the phone and holstered his gun. “We’re clear.”

  Cameron exhaled. “Okay. Good. That was definitely not on the agenda for tonight.” She self-consciously smoothed her skirt and picked up her purse. “So we’re going to rejoin the others, then?”

  “Yes.”

  She headed toward the door and Jack followed her. She reached for the handle, then paused and looked over her shoulder. The sweater slipped off her shoulder once again.

  “Thank you for—” She stopped. “What’s wrong?”

  Jack stood behind her, staring at that damn gray strap. He caught himself wondering what was softer, the silk or her skin. If he was a smart man, he wouldn’t dare to even think about getting the answer to that.

  He reached out to her anyway.

  He took hold of her sweater and gently pulled it over her shoulder. He stopped when he reached the strap of her camisole. “This thing has been driving me crazy all night,” he murmured.

  Cameron’s voice sounded a little shaky. “I . . . think I ruined it the last time I did laundry.”

  The air hung thick between them.

  “We should go,” Jack finally said. He needed to get out of that office before he did something he regretted. Something they both regretted.

  She nodded, turned back, and unlocked the deadbolt. She grabbed the doorknob . . . then stopped.

  Jack waited for her to open the door. When she didn’t, he reached around her, placing his hand over hers. “Cameron, we have to get out of here,” he said in a guttural voice.

  “I know.”

  Still, neither of them moved. Jack took his hand off hers and moved it to the deadbolt.

  He knew he shouldn’t.

  But he locked the door anyway.

  He heard Cameron inhale unsteadily. Before he could give it a second thought, he brushed her long hair off her shoulder and bent his head to kiss her collarbone.

  He got his answer. Silk didn’t hold a fucking candle to her skin.

  WITH A SOFT moan, Cameron sank against Jack’s chest. She briefly wondered what she was doing, and why. Then she felt Jack’s lips burn a path along her neck and decided to table those issues for a moment.

  His hands moved to her hips and she didn’t know if he spun her around or if she turned herself, maybe both, but suddenly she found herself facing him. She caught the hot glint in his eyes and reached for him just as his mouth came down on hers.

  She expected Jack’s kiss to be hard, angry even, but instead it was just . . . wicked. He took his time, tasting her with his mouth, his lips, and his tongue. When his hand moved to the small of her back and pressed her closer, Cameron dropped her purse to the floor and threaded her fingers through his thick hair.

  They slammed against the door.

  Jack’s hand moved to her chin as his mouth explored hers roughly. Sensing his need for control but not yet willing to give it to him, Cameron cupped his face with her hands and slowed the kiss. Setting the pace, she teased him, biting gently at his bottom lip and sliding her tongue lightly along his. She did it again, playing with him, taking charge.

  He growled low in his throat, then grabbed her hands and pinned them against the door.

  Too late she recalled that Jack Pallas was not a man to be trifled with.

  He wound his tongue around hers in a kiss that was rich and drugging. He settled between her thighs, and Cameron felt his hard, thick erection pressing into her. He could hide nearly every emotion behind that wall of his, but his body betrayed him right then, telling her the only thing she needed to know.

  He wanted her.

  Heady with that knowledge, Cameron closed her eyes as Jack blazed a trail with his mouth along her throat. The scruff of his jaw scratched against her neck, an erotic sensation that set every nerve of her body on fire.

  “Jack,” she whispered.

  “Tell me,” he said in her ear.

  This was a new side of Jack. Gone was the guarded, controlled exterior. For once, she was seeing . . . him.

  Cameron strained against him, helpless with her hands pinned in his. “Let me touch you.” She needed to see—feel—more of him.

  He pulled back and let his eyes roam over her, soaking in every inch. He let go of her hands and watched as she pushed his blazer off. She slid her hands past his shoulder harness, feeling the taut muscles of his chest. She found it intoxicating, having such power and strength literally beneath her fingertips.

  “This works both ways, baby,” Jack said in a husky voice.

  He took her mouth in a kiss so demanding it left her breathless. His hands worked impatiently as he unbuttoned her sweater and pushed it off her shoulders.

  “I need to see you,” he muttered against her mouth.

  He pulled down the front of her camisole and the cup of her bra, and Cameron gasped as the cool air hit her exposed breast. He stroked her nipple between his fingers, toying with it until she trembled. When he cupped her breast and plumped it up for him, Cameron arched into his hand eagerly. Then he lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth.

  Liquid heat coiled between her legs so fast she nearly sank to the floor right there. Jack slowly drew his tongue over the tight peak, first being gentle while he licked, then taking the rosy tip into his mouth hungrily. Meanwhile, his hand slid underneath her shirt and his fingers began to caress her other breast.

  Cameron felt exposed yet also incredibly sensual. And while a voice inside her head told her that she needed to stop, another voice, a devilish one, told her to give in for once, to let go.

  Jack pulled her camisole lower, his mouth on the hunt for her other breast. Cameron moaned, knowing which voice had just gained the upper hand.<
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  Then a loud knock on the other side of the door startled them. Both she and Jack jumped.

  They heard Amy’s voice. “Cameron? Are you in there?”

  Cameron and Jack froze as the door handle turned at her hip.

  Amy called through the door again. “Cameron? Are you all right?” She spoke to someone out in the hallway. “You said they were supposed to meet us back at the VIP room, right?”

  Wilkins’s voice. “That’s what Jack said.”

  “Try him on his cell phone again.”

  Jack’s cell phone began to vibrate from the blazer Cameron had thrown onto the floor. She peered up at him. Something passed between them . . . then slipped away.

  They unwound and separated. Jack grabbed his blazer off the ground to answer his phone. As he told Wilkins that they were fine and would be out momentarily, Cameron grabbed her purse off the floor and moved away from the door, pulling up the front of her camisole and adjusting her bra. She walked over to the window, grateful for the darkness that covered the awkwardness of the situation.

  She was belting her sweater when Jack spoke from across the room.

  “The strap of your shirt is torn,” he said softly.

  “I know.” She tucked the strap inside her shirt, hoping the other one would hold. If not, Amy and Wilkins were going to get quite an eyeful. Her lips felt bruised and swollen, not that there was much she could do about that. She moved to the door.

  “You’re ready?” Jack asked.

  “Sure, I’m fine.” Actually, that wasn’t true, but with people waiting outside there wasn’t time to analyze her emotions. She knew it was the perfect time for a quip or a joke, anything that would get her feeling like herself again and bring her and Jack back to familiar ground. But she couldn’t do it right then. “We should get out there.”

  Jack seemed to hesitate at first. Then he switched over to all-business mode and opened the door. She passed by him to step out into the hallway and for a fleeting second their eyes met—the only recognition of what had happened between them.

  Amy waited in the shadowy hallway with Wilkins. They both looked confused at first, then amused.