descent of the sun finally signaled the end of a very bad day. Jessica watched the sun go to sleep in the west then turned to stare at her living room. The sight only made her feel lonelier than she’d ever felt in her life.
As she had no court appearance scheduled that day, she’d finally relented to Liz’s insistence and gone home early. A nap had taken care of her headache, but the dreams set her more on edge. She could push McGuire out of her mind while she was awake, but when she was asleep he returned to torment her.
So she decided a special “just for Jessica” night was in order. A split of champagne and a romance novel read in a tub full of bubbles. The electric lights were doused, giving way to the swaying flames of every candle in her apartment. After donning her favorite white silk lounging gown and negligee, she feasted on her last box of Godiva chocolates to the soothing sounds of a New Age CD recording of falling water and gentle winds.
She still felt lousy.
She jumped at a sudden pounding on the door. Since her building was secure, unauthorized people could not enter unless cleared and admitted by the doorman. Perhaps her father had gotten her message and come over instead of calling as she’d asked. Jessica hurried over and opened the door.
The sight of Doug McGuire lifted her depression. Why fight fate? With a resigned smile, she threw caution to the wind.
“What kept you?” she asked.
Chapter 4
His gaze wandered over her silk-clad body. Approval—and something else—lit his eyes. Jessica went hot all over.
He stepped inside, crowding her. The slam of the door as he kicked it shut behind them barely registered, because her mind went from thought to sensation when his hand snaked around her waist, yanked her against him, and his lips took hers.
The scrape of his teeth along her lip matched the scrape of his belt along her belly, his clothes coarse against skin softened and scented from the bath, sensitive from his recent touch. His hands were hard—rough at her waist—and the calluses on his palms snagged the silk, pulling so the material slid against her hips. She shivered, despite the heat in the room.
Their tongues teased, met, mated. She yanked on his jacket, wanting to touch skin and not clothes. Why did he have on a jacket in the middle of summer anyway?
As she slid her hands down his arms, her wrist scraped his service revolver. He swallowed her gasp with another openmouthed kiss, and she forgot the gun as her body exploded with sensation. Pulling her clinging fingers from his arms, he placed them at her sides with a little shake that cautioned “don’t touch.” Her fingertips slid on silk—his mouth along the satin of her lips.
They no longer touched anywhere but lip to lip, tongue to tongue, and that only made her wild for more.
Then he pulled away. Moaning, she leaned toward him. “Hush, baby,” he muttered, his voice harsh and heavy against the flute and water medley that filled the room. “Hold on.”
She opened heavy eyes to find him reaching up to place the gun and badge on top of her bookcase. He hadn’t removed his hands to make her crazy, but only to take off his holster.
A man with a very big gun shouldn’t excite a thoroughly modern woman like herself. But she was. When he turned to her again, she pressed him back against the door and kissed him as her fingers made short work of tie and shirt—his the flowing negligee.
Candlelight flickered across his chest turning the dark whirls of hair to gold. A sigh shuddered through them both when she began to trace the defined muscles of his chest, her fingers splaying across his skin and tangling in the hair, familiarizing herself with his body in a way she’d only dreamed of before.
He pulled his mouth from hers and buried his face in her loose hair. Drawing a deep breath, he rubbed his cheek along the length. “You smell like flowers,” he whispered.
“Uh-huh,” she agreed. Her lips walked a path over his shadowed jaw and neck, then traced his collarbone with her tongue. “You taste like a man.”
He shuddered. “That’s it.” He picked her up suddenly and so high that she had no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck. He went still and closed his eyes, sucking in a breath between his teeth when her thighs slid along his belly and her legs hugged his waist. The muscles of his stomach hardened against the delicate, rarely touched flesh of her inner thighs.
Her gaze was drawn to his face. Eyes closed, jaw clenched, he looked softer somehow than she’d ever seen him. Must be the candlelight, she thought. Without meaning to she loosed one hand from behind his neck and cupped the sharp plane of his cheek.
She expected him to jerk away, or at least open those smoldering eyes. Instead he sighed, his face relaxed, and he rubbed his cheek against her palm, as he’d rubbed his face in her hair. Her heart did a funny little jig and she swallowed, hard.
Opening his eyes, he pulled her tighter against his hardened, muscled torso and moved forward. Under an exquisite shiver of anticipation she threw her head back, and his lips closed over the peak of one breast, taking silk and nipple within his fevered mouth. Shifting restlessly against him, she gasped when the hair on his stomach rasped across her throbbing center.
Then she was falling and although the sensation should have been frightening, instead it was the most exciting thing she’d ever experienced. He might be stronger than her, and bigger than her, and more dangerous than he looked, but he would never hurt her—and no one else would, either, while he was around.
Her back hit the couch, and he towered over her, staring down with dark and secretive eyes. Her breasts throbbed as his gaze wandered over them, then continued along her body. What must she look like with her hair tumbled all about her shoulders, laying there in the candlelight with her nightgown bunched at the small of her back, the skirt rucked to her waist, and the bodice wet and clinging against the nipple that his mouth had taken. She did the only thing her instincts allowed—she reached out for him.
His eyes met hers and slowly his fingers went to his belt. For a moment she considered helping him, hurrying him. But the way his gaze seared into hers, she knew he wanted her to watch. So she lowered her seeking hands and bunched them into fists to make them behave.
The belt gaped open, followed by the button at the top of his trousers. Mesmerized, she watched the shadows that danced upon the two fingers that grasped the zipper. Strained by the bulge beneath, the teeth resisted the movement, and slowed the zipper’s descent as he pulled it down until his erection was freed.
Her fingers clenched again wanting to reach inside those pants and press an itching palm to the heat and fullness. He would be smooth and hard and perfect. Fingernails dug into her palms.
Looping his thumbs in the waistband he drew his pants down, leaving his boxers in place.
Annoyance rumbled deep in her throat and his lips turned up. Kicking off his shoes and pants, he straightened and she started to rise, determined to rid him of those damned blue shorts, which kept her from seeing what she wanted to see—and touching what she wanted to touch.
“Uh-uh,” he warned. “Lay back, Jess.”
And because she knew that the longer she waited, the better this would be, she did, even though her body screamed to touch him, taste him, take him now.
He knelt at her side and his hand skimmed
