Convincing Alex
Page 16
"You're wriggling." He grinned again, surprised at how satisfying it was to know he'd unsettled her.
"I've got work, that's all."
"Me too. Why don't I come by about seven-thirty? My brother-in-law's got this place. I think you'll get a kick out of it."
"Lady clothes or real clothes?"
"What are you wearing now?"
She glanced down at her sweater and slacks. "Real ones."
"That'll do." He stood, then tilted her chin with a finger until they were eye-to-eye. "You have the oddest face,'' he said half to himself. "You should be ugly."
She laughed, unoffended. "I was. I've burned all pictures of me before the age of eighteen." Her dimple winked out as she smiled at him. "I imagine you were always gorgeous."
He winced, though he knew he should be used to having that term applied to him. "My sisters were gorgeous," he told her. "Are. My brother and I are ruggedly attractive."
"Ah, manly men."
"You got it."
"And you grew up surrounded by flocks of adoring females."
"We started with flocks and moved on to hordes."
Her eyes lit with amusement and curiosity. "What was it like to—"
He cut her off the most sensible way. He liked the quick little jolt her body gave before she settled into him. And the way her mouth softened, accepted. No pretenses here, he thought as she gave a quiet sigh and melted into the kiss. It was simple and easy, as basic as breathing.
If his system threatened to overcharge, he knew how to control it. Perhaps he drew the kiss out longer than he'd intended to, deepened it more than he had planned. But he was still in control. Maybe, for just a moment, he imagined what it would be like to lock the door, to sweep all those papers off the table and take her, fast and hot, on top of it.
But he wasn't a maniac. He reminded himself of that, even as his blood began to swim. A slow and gentle touch brought pleasure to both, and let a woman see that she was appreciated for everything she was.
"Dangerous," he murmured in Ukrainian as he slid his mouth from her. "Very dangerous woman."
"What?" She blinked at him with eyes that were arousingly unfocused and heavy. "What does that mean?"
He had to make a conscious effort to keep his hands gentle at her shoulders. "I said I have to go. Keep off the streets, McNee."
She called to him as he reached the doorway. "Detective." Her heart was thumping, her head was reeling, but she really hated not having the last word. For lack of anything better, she dredged up an old line from "Hill Street Blues."
"Let's be careful out there."
Alone, she lowered herself into a chair, as carefully as an elderly aunt. Five minutes later, Lori found her in exactly the same spot, still staring into space.
"Uh-oh." One look had Lori dropping down beside her. With a shake of her head, she handed Bess a fresh soft drink. "I knew it. I knew this was going to happen the minute I saw that gorgeous cop at your party."
"It hasn't happened yet." Bess took a long drink. Funny, she hadn't realized how dry her throat had become. "I'm afraid it's going to, but it hasn't happened yet."
"You had that same look on your face when you fell for Charlie. And for Sean. And Miguel. Not to mention—"
"Then don't." Frowning, she focused on Lori. "Miguel? Are you certain? I was sure I had better taste."
"Miguel," Lori said ruthlessly. "Granted, you came to your senses within forty-eight hours, but the day after he took you to the opera you had the same stupid look on your face."
"We saw Carmen," Bess pointed out. "I don't think the look had anything to do with him. Besides, I'm not in love with Alexi, I'm just having dinner with him tomorrow."
"That's what you always say. Like with George."
Bess's shoulders straightened. "George was the sweetest man I've ever known. Being engaged to him taught me a lot about understanding and compassion."
"I know. You were understanding enough to be godmother to his firstborn."
"Well, after all, I did introduce him to Nancy."
"And he promptly dumped you and ran off with her."
"He didn't dump me. I wish you wouldn't hold that against him, Lori. Breaking our engagement was a mutual decision."
"And the best thing to happen to you. George was a wimp. A whiny wimp."
Because it was precisely true, Bess sighed. "He just needed a lot of emotional support."
"At least you never slept with him."
"He was saving himself."
They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Once she caught her breath, Bess shook her head. "I should never have told you that. It was indiscreet."
"Observation," Lori announced, and Bess gestured a go-ahead. "The cop isn't going to save himself."
"I know." Bess felt the warning flutter in her stomach. Thoughtfully she drew her finger down through the moisture on the bottle. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."
"Bess, you don't cross bridges, you bum them." Lori gave her hand a quick squeeze. "Don't get hurt."
There was a touch of regret in Bess's smile. "Do I ever?"
Alex liked the way she looked. It took a certain panache, he supposed, to be able to wear the jade-toned blouse with bright blue slacks, particularly if you were going to add hot-pink high-tops. But Bess pulled it off. Everything about her was vivid. He supposed that was why he'd gone into her office to apologize and ended up asking her out.
It was probably why he hadn't been able to get her, or the idea of taking her to bed, out of his mind since he'd met her.
For herself, Bess took one look at Zackary Muldoon's bar, Lower the Boom, and knew she had a relaxed, enjoyable evening in store. There was music from the juke box, a babble of voices, a medley of good, rich scents. The tangle of pear-shaped gemstones at her ears swung as she turned to Alex. "This is great. Is the food as good as it smells?"
"Better." He gave a wave in the general direction of the bar as he found them a table.
As usual, the bar was cluttered with people and thick with noise. Since his sister had married Zack, Alex had made a habit of dropping in once a week or so, and he knew most of the regulars by name. He grinned at the waitress who stopped at their table. "Hey, Lola. How's it going?"
"I've got work, that's all."
"Me too. Why don't I come by about seven-thirty? My brother-in-law's got this place. I think you'll get a kick out of it."
"Lady clothes or real clothes?"
"What are you wearing now?"
She glanced down at her sweater and slacks. "Real ones."
"That'll do." He stood, then tilted her chin with a finger until they were eye-to-eye. "You have the oddest face,'' he said half to himself. "You should be ugly."
She laughed, unoffended. "I was. I've burned all pictures of me before the age of eighteen." Her dimple winked out as she smiled at him. "I imagine you were always gorgeous."
He winced, though he knew he should be used to having that term applied to him. "My sisters were gorgeous," he told her. "Are. My brother and I are ruggedly attractive."
"Ah, manly men."
"You got it."
"And you grew up surrounded by flocks of adoring females."
"We started with flocks and moved on to hordes."
Her eyes lit with amusement and curiosity. "What was it like to—"
He cut her off the most sensible way. He liked the quick little jolt her body gave before she settled into him. And the way her mouth softened, accepted. No pretenses here, he thought as she gave a quiet sigh and melted into the kiss. It was simple and easy, as basic as breathing.
If his system threatened to overcharge, he knew how to control it. Perhaps he drew the kiss out longer than he'd intended to, deepened it more than he had planned. But he was still in control. Maybe, for just a moment, he imagined what it would be like to lock the door, to sweep all those papers off the table and take her, fast and hot, on top of it.
But he wasn't a maniac. He reminded himself of that, even as his blood began to swim. A slow and gentle touch brought pleasure to both, and let a woman see that she was appreciated for everything she was.
"Dangerous," he murmured in Ukrainian as he slid his mouth from her. "Very dangerous woman."
"What?" She blinked at him with eyes that were arousingly unfocused and heavy. "What does that mean?"
He had to make a conscious effort to keep his hands gentle at her shoulders. "I said I have to go. Keep off the streets, McNee."
She called to him as he reached the doorway. "Detective." Her heart was thumping, her head was reeling, but she really hated not having the last word. For lack of anything better, she dredged up an old line from "Hill Street Blues."
"Let's be careful out there."
Alone, she lowered herself into a chair, as carefully as an elderly aunt. Five minutes later, Lori found her in exactly the same spot, still staring into space.
"Uh-oh." One look had Lori dropping down beside her. With a shake of her head, she handed Bess a fresh soft drink. "I knew it. I knew this was going to happen the minute I saw that gorgeous cop at your party."
"It hasn't happened yet." Bess took a long drink. Funny, she hadn't realized how dry her throat had become. "I'm afraid it's going to, but it hasn't happened yet."
"You had that same look on your face when you fell for Charlie. And for Sean. And Miguel. Not to mention—"
"Then don't." Frowning, she focused on Lori. "Miguel? Are you certain? I was sure I had better taste."
"Miguel," Lori said ruthlessly. "Granted, you came to your senses within forty-eight hours, but the day after he took you to the opera you had the same stupid look on your face."
"We saw Carmen," Bess pointed out. "I don't think the look had anything to do with him. Besides, I'm not in love with Alexi, I'm just having dinner with him tomorrow."
"That's what you always say. Like with George."
Bess's shoulders straightened. "George was the sweetest man I've ever known. Being engaged to him taught me a lot about understanding and compassion."
"I know. You were understanding enough to be godmother to his firstborn."
"Well, after all, I did introduce him to Nancy."
"And he promptly dumped you and ran off with her."
"He didn't dump me. I wish you wouldn't hold that against him, Lori. Breaking our engagement was a mutual decision."
"And the best thing to happen to you. George was a wimp. A whiny wimp."
Because it was precisely true, Bess sighed. "He just needed a lot of emotional support."
"At least you never slept with him."
"He was saving himself."
They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Once she caught her breath, Bess shook her head. "I should never have told you that. It was indiscreet."
"Observation," Lori announced, and Bess gestured a go-ahead. "The cop isn't going to save himself."
"I know." Bess felt the warning flutter in her stomach. Thoughtfully she drew her finger down through the moisture on the bottle. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."
"Bess, you don't cross bridges, you bum them." Lori gave her hand a quick squeeze. "Don't get hurt."
There was a touch of regret in Bess's smile. "Do I ever?"
Alex liked the way she looked. It took a certain panache, he supposed, to be able to wear the jade-toned blouse with bright blue slacks, particularly if you were going to add hot-pink high-tops. But Bess pulled it off. Everything about her was vivid. He supposed that was why he'd gone into her office to apologize and ended up asking her out.
It was probably why he hadn't been able to get her, or the idea of taking her to bed, out of his mind since he'd met her.
For herself, Bess took one look at Zackary Muldoon's bar, Lower the Boom, and knew she had a relaxed, enjoyable evening in store. There was music from the juke box, a babble of voices, a medley of good, rich scents. The tangle of pear-shaped gemstones at her ears swung as she turned to Alex. "This is great. Is the food as good as it smells?"
"Better." He gave a wave in the general direction of the bar as he found them a table.
As usual, the bar was cluttered with people and thick with noise. Since his sister had married Zack, Alex had made a habit of dropping in once a week or so, and he knew most of the regulars by name. He grinned at the waitress who stopped at their table. "Hey, Lola. How's it going?"
