Force of Attraction (22 page)

Two weeks of enforced idleness had tightened their frustration to the buzzing level of a high-tension voltage wire. It was a wonder the lights in a room didn't spontaneously light up when they entered. They could no longer speak to each other without the words being barbed, pointed, aggravating. Nothing to grind the irritation of inactivity against but each other's nerves.

It was a stalemate she didn't know how to end.

She'd thrown herself at him that night in the shower. And he'd been more than happy to oblige. Correct that. Blown her mind and satisfied her body in ways she had begun to think her memories of him had exaggerated. Yet, he hadn't made a move on her since. Why?

Each day that that question went unanswered made it more difficult for her to approach him. She'd offered—okay, Noel had offered Sam everything. Conclusion, Sam was not that into her. So, she'd withdrawn the offer. And, damn him, he hadn't even complained.

Cole watched him wander around the small space, picking up first her hair dryer and placing it in the linen cabinet, then hanging up her towel. Each task brought him closer to her. He was scowling, as if he didn't want to be here, but neither could he back away. Wary, alert, they watched each other like adversaries looking for a weakness they could exploit.

If something didn't happen soon, she was going to walk away from the mission. Her first instinct was right. This wasn't working. Correction. They weren't working.

For nearly a week they had shared a two-bedroom Baltimore suburb condo with a fenced-in area for their dogs. Other than the three hours each day she spent commuting to teach Shajuanna's eldest daughter the basics of Agility, there was precious little for her to do.

Lattimore was happy she'd made a connection so quickly but she was limited, so far, to one hour of training in a ring set up in a side yard of the Collier estate. Shajuanna wasn't even there, having flown out to L.A. for business, Leila said. No chance for her to better infiltrate the Collier inner circle. In fact, she hadn't actually seen inside the kennel where the Collier dogs lived and bred. They wouldn't get to start using a dog until Leila had mastered the basics, so she wouldn't confuse her pet when she began training it.

Meanwhile, she and Scott had tried to find reasons to stay busy and excuses to avoid one another. But doing nothing was tearing at both their tempers.

For instance, right this minute she was about two seconds from hurling her brush at Scott's head and ordering him out of the bathroom he did not have the decency to vacate.

Cole picked up her brush again, her gaze never straying from his reflection in the mirror. He looked pissed off. She was, too. Playing house! Whose dumb idea was that? Why didn't Sam and Noel have jobs? They needed reasons not to be constantly together. Only idiots wouldn't have known the sexual tension couldn't be infinitely denied. Something in this arrangement needed to change.

“Lattimore called. There's an Agility meet in Baltimore on Saturday.”

He had come up behind her, so close she could feel the heat from his body on her bare skin. But he didn't touch her.

“Why didn't he call me?” Cole frowned at him in the mirror. “The competition ring is my assignment. I should be the one he calls about that.”

Scott met her glare in the glass. “He called me because I'm the task force leader.”

“Oh, sir. Sorry, sir.” She gave him a little mocking salute.

Scott's gut tightened as he absorbed her disrespectful gesture. He'd forced men twice her size by sheer determination and force of personality to respect his authority. But, hell. This wasn't about control or authority, or respect for the badge. This was about the woman inside the too brief red lace undies.

During the past six days, he'd burned through his lifetime supply of honorable intentions.

He had tried to stay the hell away from her. But that wasn't working. He was in a foul mood all the time, and it got worse every time she walked into the room. Because. Because.

He wasn't that good. He wasn't that honorable. What he was was in heat for her. Constantly.

Maybe that wasn't entirely her fault. He wasn't gelded by guilt. She might as well learn that he had limits and she, just by being Cole, had pushed him way past them for the last time.

She was daring him to touch. He could see it in the steadiness of her gaze and the slight uptilt of her chin when he moved in behind her. Didn't she already know how dangerous an idea it was to wave a red flag—particularly a red-lace-panties flag—under his nose? Maybe she needed a reminder.

He leaned in, angling his head so that his lips came within a fraction of an inch of the tender place where her neck curved into the beginning of her shoulder. “You smell good.”

He saw her lids flutter before she released the brush and braced herself with both hands on the countertop. Was she expecting the touch of his hot mouth on her? It didn't happen that way. It was going to happen his way.

Their gazes met in the mirror. “You look even better.”

He reached around and touched her, his forefinger sinking into the shallow well of her belly button before he rimmed it.

Cole's belly quivered, as did all parts farther down.

“Was all this primping for me? I promise to be very,
very
appreciative.”

His voice was pitched so low it was little more than a deep breath of rough air across her shoulder. And then the impression of his lips was on her right shoulder blade. He had a hard-on so impressive she had to feel it pressing against the back of her lacy panties, in search of its target.

The shocking heat of arousal sped through Cole, lighting up every pulse point in her body before rolling down to lodge deep between her thighs.

He glanced up at the mirror, daring her to look away. “Last time we did things Noel's way. This time it's Sam's turn.”

She didn't answer. She didn't have to. He had slipped a hand down the front of her panties. She closed her eyes and stopped thinking as his hand sank into the warmth behind the lace.

He pumped his hips against her a little. She bucked forward, and his fingers slid home. He watched in the mirror as her mouth opened in an O of desire then her lids fluttered against her flushed cheeks.

He closed in tighter behind her, using his fingers when he really wanted to press into her with the best he had to offer. He wasn't being cocky—ah, what a great word. He
was
cocky. He was packed to the balls with lust for his ex-wife.

The problem was, he decided on the drive back from New Jersey, she had started thinking after that night in the shower. When Cole started thinking, she usually erred on the side of caution. That wasn't working for either of them. He was taking charge.

She couldn't make up her mind? He had just made it up for her.

Step one. But no more quickie bathroom trysts. They were going to have a normal couples' evening if it ruptured him. And when they slid between the sheets in his room it would be because neither of them wanted anything else.

He slid his hand very slowly and reluctantly out of the front of her panties. “Let's get out of here.”

Her eyes flew open and their gazes met, hot reflections of what had just occurred.

“What? Where are we going?”

He backed up a step. “Out.”

She hesitated. Maybe because he sounded like he had a stranglehold on his own throat. She, in contrast, looked dazed and bereft, and hungry. Just what he wanted.

“You've got two options. Okay or no.”

She nodded once. “Okay.”

“Okay. You've got five minutes to get dressed, or you don't get to make any more choices at all.”

Promises. Promises.
He was pretty sure she didn't say that out loud but his eyes caught fire just the same.

Good as her word, Cole was at the front door in four minutes. She had her cop face on, revealing nothing. That was okay. Her outfit revealed enough, for now.

Scott did a quick inventory of her scoop-neck slouchy long-sleeve top and short flowy skirt as he held the door for her. With her new, messy, shorter hair she looked younger, more carefree. He liked it. He even liked her strappy sandals that revealed shell-pink toes. Most of all, he liked the fragrance rising from her skin as she brushed past him. She smelled of flowers warmed by sunshine. In this case, the heat of her own body. Oh yeah. He was going to enjoy every last minute of this night.

“Where did that come from?”

“I manage a dealership, remember?”

Cole stared at the motorcycle. It was big. A cruiser. She thought about the Kawasaki Richards had loaned her. This must be from the same source. “I'm not dressed for riding on that.”

He tipped his head to the side and smiled at the sight of her strong smooth legs revealed by her short skirt. “Looks like you'll have to sit sidesaddle.” He produced from behind his back the green helmet that matched her bike. Her suspicion was confirmed.

She watched him strap on his helmet and throw a leg over the bike, much newer and nicer than the one he'd ridden while undercover. She'd only seen that bike once and its faintly menacing silhouette reminded her of the biker who had accosted her on the road.

Cole pushed the thought away. One bad memory not worth the effort to recall.

He started the motor and reached out a hand to her.

She strapped on her helmet and hopped up behind him, straddling the seat. Her skirt was worryingly short once she sat, and the breeze caused by a moving bike hadn't even begun to inch it up her thighs. She tucked the back edge under her butt and the front down between them.

Scott looked back over his shoulder with a smirk. “Nice view from here.”

She was more worried about the view for passersby. “Maybe I should change.”

“Screw that! Hold on tight.”

She grabbed him about the middle, fitting her chest to his back as she laced her fingers together across his abs. They were warm and solid beneath his shirt. “What are we doing?”

“You and I are taking Noel and Sam out for a hot night on the town.” He revved the engine and took off.

Cole released her fingers and grabbed his shirt in both fists, hugging him closer. It felt so good. He felt so good, that she stopped worrying about her skirt hem.

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“You really were hungry.” Scott lifted a hand to wipe a smudge of pizza sauce from her chin. “I never knew playing air hockey could rouse such an appetite in you.”

“You mean winning at air hockey.” Cole grinned at him. They had gone into town and found a video arcade that included table games like foosball and air hockey. Right next door was a pizzeria and bar. “It is just me or is this the best pizza ever?”

“Best pizza ever,” he agreed. “And you didn't win. I threw that last game, just to see you smile.”

“You are such a liar.” She was laughing and trying to scoop stringy cheese into her mouth. “I totally beat you. Just like the first time we played.”

“I lost that night, too. So I could get lucky.”

“Liar!”

“Did I get lucky?”

She paused to chew but her eyes were shimmering with challenge. “So, we'll have to have a rematch. And, you'll see. I'll win.”

He bobbed his head. “And I'll get lucky, just like that first time.”

“In your dreams.”

Cole gazed at Scott with shining eyes. It swelled his heart. He had forgotten so many little things about her, like how she put her hand up before her mouth when big laughter erupted from her. Or, that she was as fierce a competitor as he was when it came to games. Or how her happiness made his own.

Regret prodded him. How could he have been so stupid as to risk missing out on her smile?

During their short marriage there'd been little time to reminisce about their courtship. If sex before they knew each other's last names could be called the beginning of a courtship. But it wasn't a hookup. They both knew that before the sun came up. Something profound had occurred and they never looked back. Still, there had been little getting-to-know-you time before they wed.

She must have seen the many thoughts cascading through his expression because she sobered. “What are you thinking?”

“I'm remembering your parents looking at me like I had erupted from the earth fully grown when you introduced me. They must have been shocked to learn I had parents who both had advanced degrees.”

“That's not true. My parents really like you, and your parents.”

“I'm sure they wanted to ask how they'd happened to rear a son like me. A bad-boy biker cop. Soon to be skinhead son-in-law. What did your sister call me? Nine miles of bad road?”

Cole dipped her head to hide her smile. Becca's precise words had been, “My God! What's gotten into you, besides nine inches of bad trouble?” The estimate was generous but not the effect. Becca, she just knew, had never experienced the body-quaking sex she had with Scott. But it wasn't enough to sustain the reality of marriage.

“Don't be like that. My parents knew I loved you and they love me so—”

“So they tolerated me.”

“They were prepared to love you.”

“Until I screwed up. They must have told you they expected something like that would happen when you left me. That I couldn't be trusted.”

Cole wagged her head. “They never said anything like that.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Scott picked up his beer and took a long swallow. “What about after what you saw? A public orgy with their son-in-law front and center?”

Cole glanced down, the final piece of pizza on her plate untouched. “I told Becca. But never my parents. I just told them we weren't getting along. We had discovered we wanted different things. I knew I wasn't right to try to tie you down. But I thought I could make it work. When I realized I couldn't make you want what I wanted, I left.”