please, please.
Sunny bit her bottom lip to squelch the moan bubbling up inside her. She couldn’t very well close her eyes in the middle of an interview, so instead she remained entranced by the blatant heat in Duncan’s gaze.
Losing herself in the fantasy, she listened to Margo’s words, mentally placing herself in the role of willing victim. No faceless UNSUB twirled a painter’s whiskered brush over her nipples. In her mind she saw the handsomely chiseled features of the man across from her, felt the strength of his hands on her body.
Her breathing turned shallow as pure hunger filled his gaze. Was he transported by the same wild fantasy?
“He’d start by using a variety of brushes, each one tipped in oil, warmed precisely to 98.6 degrees,” Margo explained. “And then he’d stroke them over my nude body.”
Sunny could have sworn Duncan physically stroked her just as seductively when his gaze traveled the length of her. Oh, this was not good.
Margo continued to speak of the intimacy and sensuality Abbott had demanded of her. Sunny envisioned Duncan’s mouth covering hers, kissing her deeply while he painted her flesh at his leisure. The slick, moist oil against her skin, his hands pressing her thighs open, exploring, painting, touching…kissing her intimately.
There was nothing imaginary about the pressure between her legs, only the reality of the insistent need clawing at her, reminding her it’d been months since her last sexual encounter. The incredible sensitivity of her breasts as they swelled and tightened inside the cups of her sensible cotton bra served as another reminder that reality had indeed intruded upon fantasy.
A serene expression encompassed Margo’s face and her gaze slipped to somewhere over Sunny’s shoulder. “Justin was slow, very deliberate in my pleasure,” she said. “He exposed me so completely, his exploration erotic and incredibly thorough. I never realized the depths of sensuality until I met Justin, or understand how many places on our bodies were capable of providing fulfillment. He even asked me to touch myself in front of him, to make believe my hands were his hands stroking me. I was so completely entranced by the hypnotic sound of his voice as he described various acts of making love and the depths of pleasure he promised me, I never felt an ounce of embarrassment the first time I came that way in front of him.
“With Justin I became a greedy, decadent lover,” Margo continued in that same faraway voice. “Becoming aroused and bringing about my own fulfillment for the pleasure of a man was unlike anything I’d ever known. Not once did I contemplate holding back. I willingly gave him everything he wanted from me.”
Sunny remained fully conscious of the reality of Duncan’s presence. Not only physically, but prominently in her mind where she pleasured herself for him. The fantasy was wild, uninhibited and erotic on a level she’d never dreamed possible.
She’d gone too far. Climbing inside the victim’s head was one thing. It was quite another for her to become so thoroughly aroused by the mere image of making love to Duncan that she couldn’t do her job.
The need to escape overwhelmed her. She had to leave. Now. Right now, before she went up in flames.
But departure was not an option. Dammit, she was supposed to be a professional. If it killed her, she’d get through this interview. She forced her gaze away from Duncan to concentrate on the witness. Thank heavens she’d had the foresight to record the session, although replaying Margo’s erotic recounting of events did fill her with a modicum of dread.
For the next thirty minutes she continued to question Margo, obtaining details of the property stolen from her, the type of car the Seducer drove and the like, until she’d miraculously made it through all the questions on her list. Her body still hummed with awareness, but if she refused to so much as glance in Duncan’s direction, she remained hopeful of bringing the interview to a conclusion without going up in flames.
Her hand shook as she reached for the tape recorder. After fumbling with the switch, she dropped it into her briefcase along with her notepad. “I need…” A cold shower. Preferably with ice water. “I’ll need to schedule another appointment,” she said, not the least bit surprised her voice trembled. Her nerve endings were still vibrantly alive with sexual awareness. “I’d like to bring in a sketch artist for a composite.”
Still ignoring Duncan, she stood and faced Margo, extending her hand for another polite, limp handshake. “I’ll be in touch.”
“I’ll wait for your call,” Margo said graciously.
She made the mistake of glancing in Duncan’s direction. A smooth, lazy smile canted his mouth. The look in his eyes nearly did send her up in flames.
“I can see myself out,” she said, anxious to put a whole lot of distance between herself and Duncan’s knowing, I-want-you eyes.
Offering only a weak, apologetic semblance of a smile, she bolted from the room and hurried down the paneled corridor toward safety…er, the exit. She had a single moment’s hesitation about leaving Duncan alone with the witness, but she was too close to freedom now to turn back. Besides, he did have a right to be there since he’d been hired by Wilder’s insurance carrier to recover her stolen property.
She let herself out, shaken by the knowledge that not all lessons were easily learned. Still, she finally had firsthand knowledge of what Margo had meant by being so completely caught up in a storm of passion that nothing else mattered…except absolute pleasure.
3
SUNNY PROPPED HER bottom on the edge of her desk and faced the U.S. map pinned to the wall of her closetlike, windowless office. Tapping her index finger against her lips, she studied the neon-orange pinheads. Seattle, Napa Valley, St. Louis, Atlanta, Miami, Philadelphia and Baltimore. “Random choices?” she mused aloud. “Or preselected for reasons we still haven’t determined?”
Georgia Tremont, a tall, willowy redhead fresh from Quantico consulted the computer printout in her lap. “The computer wasn’t able to establish a pattern to the UNSUB’s choice of locations,” she reminded Sunny. As one of a handful of analysts employed by the unit, Georgia’s job was to dissect evidence and other pertinent data provided by the senior agents in charge of investigations. “I say random.”
“Possibly,” Sunny said slowly. Her instincts told her otherwise. And she always trusted her instincts.
“Computers aren’t infallible,” Ned Ball added. “I don’t trust them.”
“Oh, that’s rich,” Georgia laughed. “For a guy who investigates Internet fraud.”
“Among other things.” Ned pushed his glasses back in place. “But that’s my point. Computers make it easier for the criminals. The Net is a hotbed of illegal activity.”
Georgia rolled her big blue eyes. “It’s not the computers, or the Internet, Ned, but the people using them.”
Sunny pushed off the desk. “Play nice now, kiddies,” she teased the rookie agents. “We’re supposed to be brainstorming here, not debating the alleged evils of the information superhighway.”
For a guy who claimed he didn’t trust computers, Ned Ball was the CID’s answer to Bill Gates and Steve Jobs all rolled into one pocket-protector-sporting computer nerd. The guy was golden when it came to ferreting out glitches, back doors and security hazards. His first week in the unit, he’d single-handedly
