Devil in Dress Blues (7 page)

She gave him a tolerant look. “As I said, the book doesn’t belong to me.”

“So who is this Colette, and how did you end up giving her a ride home? Was she at the charity ball? Did her, uh, escort ditch her?”

“Not exactly,” Sara hedged. She indicated the three pizza boxes stacked on the counter and an amused smile touched her mouth. “Are you expecting company?”

“No, but I wasn’t sure what kind of pizza you like, so I got a variety.” He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “You’re not going to change the subject, Sara. How did Colette end up in your car?”

Without looking at him, Sara opened each of the boxes, finally settling on the veggie pizza. He watched as she pulled a warm slice free and took a delicate bite from the end.

“Mmm,” she exclaimed, closing her eyes briefly in appreciation. “Delicious. I can’t remember the last time I had pizza this good.”

Rafe watched as she caught a trace of errant sauce on her lips with the pink tip of her tongue. His body stirred in reaction.

“I’m waiting,” he said, his voice rougher than he’d intended.

She swiped her mouth with her fingertips and looked at him. “Okay, fine. But you need to promise me that the information I’m about to tell you goes no farther than this room.
Promise.
”

Rafe didn’t like making promises when he had no idea what he was committing to, but he nodded curtly. “I promise.”

Sara reluctantly set the slice of pizza down. “I was driving home on the night of the charity ball and got behind an expensive little sports car out on Post Road.”

Rafe watched in fascination as warm color seeped into her face, and for a moment he didn’t think she would continue. “And…?” he prodded.

“And it was pretty obvious what was going on in the car while they were driving.”

“Can you be more specific?” Rafe asked.

She gestured vaguely. “You know…her mouth was on him.”

“She was kissing him?” he asked helpfully.

Sara gave him a baleful look. “Are you really going to make me spell it out for you? Yes, she was kissing him, in a manner of speaking. But not on his lips, if you know what I mean.”

“Ah…” Rafe found her obvious discomfort both amusing and endearing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman blush.

“Okay, so what else? You followed them?”

“Yes. Their car crashed into a tree and I stopped to see if I could help. But then I realized who was driving, and I wished that I hadn’t stopped. And this is where your promise to keep this information confidential comes in.”

“I already gave you my word.”

There was a momentary pause. “The driver was Edwin Zachary.”

For the second time in less than hour, Rafe discovered that he could still be shocked. Zachary’s name was the last one he’d expected to hear. While there were plenty of politicians involved in sleazy backroom deals and sexual scandals, Edwin Zachary had always seemed to be above that. He and his wife were cornerstones of Washington, D.C. society, and Zachary was known for his firm sense of ethics. He was also rumored to be a strong contender for the next presidential campaign. Why would he risk everything for sex with a prostitute? It made no sense to Rafe.

“Go on,” he encouraged her. “What happened then?”

Sara described how Edwin had asked her to drive Colette home, and how he had offered her money and requested that she keep the incident a secret.

“I refused the money, but I couldn’t just leave Colette there,” Sara said. “So I drove her home and then found the planner on the floor of my car the next morning. I went back to where I had dropped her off, but was told that nobody lives there who fits her description.”

Rafe pulled a second beer from the refrigerator and opened it. He handed it to Sara before taking a long swallow from his own bottle. He found it hard to believe that the incident might have endangered Sara’s life, but he couldn’t discount the possibility that Edwin Zachary was trying to silence her, especially since she had refused to accept his money. It would have been simple enough for him to write down her license-plate number and then send someone after her.

“Is that everything?” he asked grimly. She hesitated, and he could see that she was debating on whether or not to share more with him. “C’mon, Sara. Spill.”

“There’s a phone number in the back of the planner, so I dialed it, but it didn’t belong to Colette. I spoke with a woman named Juliet who said she runs a business that makes fantasies come true.”

Rafe snorted. “I bet.”

“Of course she swore that her employees—for lack of a better word—are prohibited from having sex with their clients. She insisted that if they do, then it’s consensual and has nothing to do with the Glass Slipper Club. I mean,
had
nothing to do with the club.”

Rafe made a grunting sound. “What do you mean, ‘had nothing to do with the club’?”

“Juliet told me that she thinks the Feds are watching her and she’s leaving the country for a while. The club apparently isn’t in operation anymore.”

Everything fell into place for Rafe. There was no question in his mind that Sara’s life was in danger. The only remaining question was whether Edwin Zachary was behind it. The only other person who might have a motive to remove Sara from the picture was Juliet, especially if she knew that Sara was a journalist and could potentially expose her to the world.

Rafe recalled what had happened the last time the press had exposed a Washington madam; she had been found hanging by her neck. Juliet might feel threatened enough to decide Sara was too much of a risk. Not only to Juliet’s questionable business, but to her very life.

7

S
ARA WATCHED
R
AFE OVER
the rim of her beer bottle. He looked every inch as dangerous as Lauren had warned. Picking up the black book, he flipped to where Juliet’s phone number was written and pulled out his cell phone.

“What are you doing?” Sara asked, but was afraid that she already knew. She watched him, wondering if she should tell him about the jump stick that Juliet had given her. He hadn’t mentioned it to her, so she had to assume that he hadn’t found it during his search of her handbag. She’d told him everything else that had happened, so why not share that, as well? Sara knew instinctively that she could trust him—but until she could look at the contents of the memory stick, she decided to keep its existence a secret. What had Juliet called it—an insurance policy? If that was true, it would be better to keep it under wraps until she knew what information it contained.

Rafe’s black eyes glittered as he held his cell phone to his ear. He regarded her with one finger over his mouth. “Shh. Don’t say a word.” He listened for several moments, but then closed the phone with a frustrated snap. “The number is no longer in service.”

“That would support what Juliet said about getting out of the business, right?” Sara asked.

“Possibly.” He considered her for a long moment and then blew out a hard breath. “C’mon, let’s take our pizza into the other room. I’ll start a fire and see if there’s anything good on television.”

Without waiting for her response, he scooped up two of the pizza boxes and his beer and retreated to the living room, leaving her alone in the kitchen. Sara couldn’t believe that he had actually thought the little black planner belonged to her. Recalling his reaction, butterflies swarmed in her stomach. When he’d demanded to know who she was going to meet, and then recited some of the sexual activities that had been written in the book, only one thought had gone through Sara’s mind—what would it be like to do those things with him? She shivered.

Picking up her beer, Sara followed Rafe into the living room and sat at one end of the roomy sofa. She watched his easy movements as he lit a fire and then clicked a remote through a series of channels until he finally settled on a James Bond movie. With a questioning glance in her direction, he sat down at the other end of the sofa.

“I thought you were starving,” he commented, indicating her mostly uneaten slice of pizza.

“I guess not as much as I thought.”

Leaning forward, he braced his forearms on his knees and laced his hands together. “Look, I apologize for going through your personal things. I didn’t want to invade your privacy, but something happened today that you need to know about.”

Sara gave rueful laugh. From the time she had come across the accident with Edwin Zachary, it seemed her life hadn’t been the same. “A lot of things happened today, Rafe. At this point, nothing would surprise me, so let’s hear it.”

“Do you recall the two men in the alley earlier today? I think they were following you.”

Sara recalled the sense of being watched while sitting at the café and knew instinctively that Rafe was telling the truth. Someone
had
been watching her. She’d felt it. But she hadn’t realized she’d been followed back to the alley. Not until Rafe had asked if she knew the men had she even realized anyone was behind her. At the time, she
had
wondered if they’d intentionally followed her, but then Rafe had kissed her and all thoughts of the two men had vanished. The thought of someone deliberately stalking her, slinking behind her like a hungry wolf, made her feel a little ill. Especially since she knew better. She’d lived in Washington for three years, and she was usually pretty safety-conscious. But it had been daylight, and she’d been so close to the sculpture gardens and the bustle of Independence Avenue, that she’d felt safe.

Sara nearly groaned aloud. She’d believed him when he’d told her that he’d wanted to kiss her since the night of the charity ball. Worse, she’d kissed him back and had even allowed herself to fantasize about what it might be like to do more than just kiss Rafe Delgado. Now she knew he’d kissed her only as a pretext. Maybe he didn’t even find her attractive.

Sara gave him a rueful look. “So you only came after me to protect me.”

He shrugged. “I was just going on instinct.”

The way he watched her, as if he could read her thoughts, was a little unnerving, but Sara found she couldn’t look away. She realized that, up close, his eyes weren’t actually black, but a brown so deep and dark that she could only barely discern his pupils. His lashes were thick and lush for a man, and his mouth… Good Lord, his mouth looked as if it had been sculpted purely for pleasure, and Sara had a nearly overwhelming urge to rub her own against it.

“You kissed me just in case they were still watching us.” She looked down at his hands, loosely linked between his knees, at the strong wrists and fingers, and the dusting of dark hair along his skin. She gave a huff of self-deprecating laughter. “I’ll give you credit for a realistic performance. You even had me fooled.”

“Is that what you think?” he finally asked, his voice low and rough. “That I kissed you just for show?”

“Didn’t you?”

To her astonishment, he slid a warm hand along her jaw, his fingers tangling in her damp hair. His expression was taut and his eyes glittered hotly.

“I meant what I said after I kissed you,” he said softly. “I’d been wanting to do that since I first saw you at the ball.”

As if to emphasize his words, his gaze fastened on her mouth and his head dipped toward hers. Sara was only vaguely aware of moving toward him.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, “but I have to…”

He didn’t finish, and the last thing she saw before her lashes drifted closed, was his delectable mouth descending toward hers.

His lips were warm and firm and so sinfully talented that Sara gave a small murmur of pleasure and eased closer. Her hands crept to his arms, feeling the hard thrust of muscles beneath the soft fabric of his jersey. He took his time, teasing and tasting her, until Sara slid her hands upward, over the slope of his shoulders until she encountered the hot, satiny skin at the nape of his neck.

He made a small growling sound of encouragement and then both hands were cradling her head, tilting her face for the full, sensual assault of his lips and tongue against her own. He tasted faintly of beer and smelled like crisp soap and a hint of something spicy. His fingers against her face were strong and warm, and the sensation of his tongue stroking her own caused a heat wave of desire to crash over her.

She’d had an immediate physical reaction to Rafe Delgado the first time she saw him, but the reality of touching him and having his mouth on hers was beyond anything she could have imagined. Sara didn’t consider herself a prude. Far from it, actually. But her former boyfriends had been writers or musicians, and had been more dreamy than dangerous, more moody than masculine. But there was nothing tempered or hesitant about Rafe’s kisses. He plundered her mouth as his fingers buried themselves in her damp hair and held her still.

He eased her back against the arm of the sofa and she went willingly, drawing him down on top of her until the delicious weight of his body pinned her against the cool leather cushions. He lifted his head briefly to search her face with eyes that glittered hotly in his dark face.

“Okay?” he murmured, his breathing uneven.

“Oh, yeah…” she whispered, and drew his head back down to hers, spearing her fingers through his short hair and reveling in the velvety texture and the warmth of his scalp. Shifting restlessly beneath him, she managed to curl one leg around the hard length of his thigh and he settled into the cradle of her hips as if he had been made to fit there.

She wound her arms around him, stroking the long muscles of his back until she encountered the bottom edge of his shirt, and slid her hands beneath it. His skin was like hot silk beneath her fingers and she stroked higher, admiring the strength and power of his body.

He tore his mouth from hers and dragged his lips along the line of her jaw until he reached the tender skin beneath her ear, and then he bit her flesh lightly before soothing it with his tongue. Sara shivered, feeling a bolt of pure heat lash through her. She throbbed where his hips pressed against hers and she had to resist the urge to rub herself against him.

As if sensing her need to get even closer, Rafe slid a hand along the slope of her shoulder and downward, and then boldly cupped a breast beneath the soft fabric of her sweater. Sara gasped as he gently cupped and kneaded her, then rubbed his thumb across her hardened nipple.

“You feel great,” he rasped, and skated his tongue lightly along the curve of her ear.

Sara opened her eyes, thrilling at the sight of his broad shoulders and dark head bent over her, feeling his big hand caress her as she arched helplessly upward. The small part of her brain still capable of coherent thought argued that she knew next to nothing about Rafe Delgado. She’d never had sex with a stranger. In fact, she’d never even considered becoming intimate with someone with whom she wasn’t in a committed relationship, but she was contemplating it now.

His hand followed the curve of her waist to her hip, and then swept beneath the edge of her sweater to smooth over the bare skin of her stomach. When he cupped her breast again, there was only the fragile barrier of her bra separating his palm from her skin.

“You’re so damned soft,” he muttered, and before Sara realized his intent, he pushed the sweater up and bent his head to draw on her nipple through the sheer fabric of the undergarment.

The moist heat of his mouth caused a rush of wetness to her center, where she ached for him. She gave an inarticulate cry of pleasure and held his head to her breast, even daring to take his earlobe between her teeth and nibble gently. Her action seemed to arouse him further, and he pushed her bra down until he freed one breast.

“Gorgeous,” he breathed in a reverent tone, and covered her with his hand, teasing and caressing the beaded tip until Sara writhed beneath him. Only when she moaned softly did he bend his head and close his mouth around her, drawing sharply on her nipple.

Sara stroked her cheek against the rough velvet of his short hair, breathing in his scent. She pressed upward, feeling the hard thrust of his arousal behind the zipper of his jeans. She’d never been so turned on or so acutely aware of her own body. Every nerve ending was vibrantly alive and cried out for fulfillment.

When he released her breast and began to trace a path downward, she sank back against the leather cushions and let the pleasure of his touch consume her. His hands reached the waistband of her jeans, and she held her breath, waiting for him to work the fastening. Instead, he abruptly pulled away from her. Cool air wafted across her bare skin and Sara opened her eyes in bewilderment. He sat up with her leg still curved around his hips, and scrubbed his hands over his face. His breath came in aggravated surges. Disoriented, Sara adjusted her clothing as Rafe carefully disentangled himself from her legs before standing up.

“We need to talk,” he finally said, sliding her a meaningful look. “There’s nothing I want more than to take you right here, right now. But I don’t want you to think the only reason I asked you to stay with me for the next week is so that I can have sex with you.”

Right now, at this moment, Sara couldn’t think of a better reason to stay with Rafe. Her breasts ached and her body thrummed with unfulfilled need, but she pushed herself to a sitting position and tried to focus on what he was saying…when what she really wanted to do was reach for him and encourage him to finish what he’d started. Swiping her hair back from her eyes, she turned to face him, self-conscious and wary. His expression was grim. Sara couldn’t imagine what must be going through his head.

S
ARA STARED AT HIM
with eyes that were still hazy with pleasure, her hair tangled around her face and her sweetly decadent mouth swollen from his kisses. More than anything, he wanted to drag her jeans from her body and bury himself in her welcoming heat. He’d been so close to doing just that, when some last vestige of sanity had surfaced. Even then, he’d been tempted to ignore the warning sirens going off in his head. Instead, he’d drawn on every bit of restraint he had, using his marine training to rein in the rampant lust that had consumed him. He’d backed off, but it had been several long, uncomfortable moments before the red haze had cleared enough for him to control his rioting impulses.

“I know why you asked me to shadow you for the next week,” she said, her voice soft. “Because everything I said about you is true, and this only proves it.”

He slanted her a questioning look, trying not to notice how sexy she looked, or the way she regarded him as if he was her own personal hero. “What do you mean?”

“Your insistence that I shadow you for a week has nothing to do with my writing a story about you. You made my being here a condition of writing the story because you wanted to protect me. How is that not heroic?”

She was right; he couldn’t give a shit about her story. In fact, despite what he’d promised Sara to get her here, he’d never planned to answer her questions about the rescue at all. Did that make him a hero?

“Sara, listen to me,” he said carefully. “There was something about those guys who were following you. They were hit men.” He drew in a deep breath. “I’m almost certain they wanted to kill you.”

Sara blinked at him, uncomprehending. “What?”

He sat down beside her, reminding himself that she had no experience with the dark underbelly of society. She’d probably never had anyone say so much as a cross word to her, never mind deliberately try to harm her.

“Why would you think that?” she asked in bewilderment. “There’s a big difference between someone following me into an alley and someone wanting to kill me.”

“Think about it.” He paused for a moment. “You saw Edwin Zachary with a woman who is a call girl. If that wasn’t bad enough, she leaves her appointment book in your car and that book not only contains the initials and sexual preferences of her clients, but also contains the phone number of the woman responsible for running an exclusive sex ring.”