He started the car and pulled away smoothly from his parking spot. Roxie a criminal? He didn’t think so. Her innocence had struck him from the outset. If she wasn’t on the run, what was she doing and why had she given him the slip? Why had she hesitated momentarily before answering her boss about where she’d been during her break? Was she running from something? If so, from what? He’d been in law for fifteen years and had learned that people ran from all manner of things, whether they were real or imagined. Did he really want to get involved with someone who was so clearly hiding something? But then, one night of sex wasn’t getting involved. It would merely be to scratch the itch he had for this woman who intrigued him. She was so very sexy, feminine and playful. He’d loved how she’d pulled his glasses down his nose to look into his eyes. She wasn’t afraid of the truth, was she?
Charlie jumped on the freeway and thanked his lucky stars that the traffic was moving smoothly. He could only hope that Otis Rowter didn’t know where Roxie lived and wasn’t following her.
As the sun dropped lower in the early evening sky, the shadows across the I-10 Freeway lengthened. He gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled fingers. Who would have thought she would dart out the back? If she was in danger from Rowter, then how could he help her if he wasn’t with her? Did Roxie know that the former convict threatened her safety? Charlie had seen men like him before, and prosecuted them. They went postal at the slightest provocation. He hoped Roxie could handle herself, yet he wondered. She was beautiful, spunky and intelligent, but if faced with a mad-ass like Rowter, and she was alone, would she really be able to take care of herself?
It had been easy to leave Charles Vernon behind in the diner. Roxie hefted her duffel bag in her hand and hurried down the street. She’d changed out of her uniform but even so she could smell the grease from the burgers and fries on her skin and in her hair. Continually glancing over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed, she unlocked the door to her apartment building, yearning for one thing—a long shower to rid herself of the odor of work.
An odd feeling stopped her, forced her to glance over her right shoulder, then her left. She saw nothing out of place. Hurriedly, she locked the door from the inside, but like a bad taste in her mouth, the feeling of being watched persisted.
Chapter Three
After he arrived at his rented condo, Charlie showered. It had never felt so good before to rid himself of salty sweat. He dressed in a dark-gray two-piece suit with a navy-blue tie and a gold tiepin given to him several years before by his law professor. She’d told him that he’d go far and that it was her way to honor his achievement of being her best student in the thirty years she’d been teaching. He stroked the gold lightly but affectionately. She’d known and appreciated his drive and determination to make something of himself.
Charlie glanced out the second story window at the quiet neighborhood and the parking lot that was filling up quickly as people arrived home from their jobs, some of them with long commutes. The sun was casting its last purplish-orange light as it set like a stately queen retiring to her bedchamber. Far away he heard the roar of a motorcycle but ignored the sound, which probably came from the nearby freeway. His eye caught the distant sparkle of water—the Pacific Ocean. Although he lived in Boston’s Back Bay neighborhood, he didn’t have such a good view of the ocean. He paused to admire the beauty. Behind the condo, several miles away, the forest reared up into the mountains. He heaved in a deep breath of air, inhaling the barely discernible scent of roses on someone’s patio. Birds trilled their night song and crickets chirped in the arroyo below the condos.
The sound of the motorcycle was getting louder. He gritted his teeth, unwilling for the silence to be broken by such a harsh noise. How he hated the disturbance, which reminded him of his youth and his inability to fight against the violent gangs that had terrorized his neighborhood. Charlie had sought justice for their crimes since becoming a lawyer. He’d owed his mother that much.
Now he saw the rider and the shiny black metal hurtling down the two-lane street. Throwing on his jacket, he hurried down the stairs to the first floor with bated breath. The bike stopped outside, its engine idling. The almost angry blare of a horn assaulted his ears.
“What the hell?” he muttered, his heart jumping into his throat. Maybe the previous condo lessee had hung out with a biker and that person didn’t yet know he’d moved on.
Fully intending to give the motorcyclist a piece of his mind, Charlie threw open the door and strode out onto the sidewalk. The sun was low in his eyes and prevented him from seeing who was planted on the seat. Unafraid of confrontations, he kept marching down the walkway. The concrete felt hard and unaccommodating under his wingtips. In no uncertain terms, he’d urge the guy to quickly move on or he’d call the cops.
Still shading his eyes against the sun’s glare, he came level with the earsplitting racket. His mouth fell open in utter astonishment. The rider was the woman who’d stolen his parking space earlier that morning. Crap—somehow she’d found out where he lived.
He almost barked, “What do you want?” She lifted her visor and he saw her face. The dancing blue eyes and the pert nose with the glossy, parted lips. He forgot everything but that kissable mouth and imagined thrusting his tongue between the silky skin, tracing his knuckles down her cheek in a lazy line, unzipping her jacket and watching as her breasts spilled out and her nipples hardened right in front of his eyes. He’d take her, his cock sliding into her warm wetness as she wrapped her questing arms around his neck and begged for more.
The fantasy abruptly ended when she cleared her throat. How could he have lost his senses so quickly in her presence? A rose blush tinted her cheeks. She unbuckled the helmet’s strap, lifted the whole thing from her head and shook out her hair, which flew gently in silky tendrils before they landed on her leather-clad shoulders. The black accentuated her blonde hair and Charlie thought about dark satin sheets and her limbs spread out awaiting his touch. Once more he shook himself. What was it about Roxie that turned his hormones on big-time?
He barely caught the helmet she threw in his direction. Still, it landed against his chest with a thud.
“You sure you don’t want to change into something more comfortable?” she asked in the lilting, musical voice with which he had become so familiar. She gave him a playful, full-toothed smile.
He didn’t immediately answer. He should have known. Biker chicks weren’t his type. His record for striking out grew by one.
“I
am
comfortable,” he managed, pulling himself together. He hadn’t expected Roxie to show up in a biker’s outfit. She’d seemed more genteel than that. His mind kept searching for the missing piece of the puzzle. What was wrong with his picture of the beautiful Roxie on a fiendish motorcycle? Somehow the two didn’t add up.
She leaned forward on the bike. “You look uptight, Charlie.” She unzipped her jacket the tiniest fraction of an inch. “Do you think this is a bad idea?”
Charlie began panting and held onto the helmet with a death grip. The woman was torturing him out of his mind. His trousers were far too tight in the crotch area and getting less accommodating by the second. Couldn’t he get his mind off sex and onto her? He exhaled deeply.
It’s the same thing,
he told himself with a hint of sarcasm.
He’d never been on a bike before. Could he manage to get on without showing trepidation?
Helplessly, he watched as Roxie kicked the bike’s stand on, settled her helmet on the seat and turned to him.
She’s an angel with the setting sun glowing all around her like a halo of living fire. An angel in black. An angel determined to take me to the ends of the earth with her.
Striding up to him, she grasped his helmet and gently clamped it onto his head without fastening the strap. The heady fragrance of gardenias surrounded him. He realized she could do anything she wanted to him and he was helpless against her, although he was certain she meant no harm. She just didn’t have it in her.
“Now this.” She unknotted his tie with deft fingers.
How many other men has she touched like this?
he wondered, and jealousy stabbed him in the heart with its pitchfork. They’d been lucky, and he was about to join their ranks—if he didn’t balk.
Roxie stuffed the tie in his breast pocket. She leaned farther forward, and whispered loudly, “You look really tense. Relax. I haven’t killed anyone.” With a chirpy smile, she added, “Yet.”
“That’s what worries me,” Charlie croaked.
Get a grip on yourself. She’ll think you’re a dunce and even before you get it on, she’ll ditch you.
“I want to do you, Charlie,” she continued, lifting her lips to his.
He’d practiced keeping his hands off her all day, but now he couldn’t resist. If she was offering her mouth up to him, what man could resist the lure of sexy temptation?
Every nerve in Roxie’s body trembled as she faced Charlie. The sun had set and dusk encircled them with its grayness, but she could easily see his pupils dilate, and the column of his throat moved up and down with a hard swallow. Leaning closer, she reached tentative fingers to the crotch of his trousers. Her fingertips met exquisite silk. He had quite an erection. She wanted more of him…but then she came to herself. They were in a semi-public place. His neighbors could be watching.
He stepped forward, lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers with a featherlight touch. His muted groan sank into her mind with such impact that she probably would have heard him a mile away. The caress of his mouth was a promise of things to come.
“Charlie?” she whispered, loudly enough that he could hear her above the idling bike. “Come with me. I promise you won’t regret it.”
He shivered under her fingertips, which melted into his shoulder through the heated jacket. “I’ve never sat behind a woman driver on a bike before.”
She laughed softly at his endearing remark. “I’m a perfectly safe driver,” she said, willing herself to step away from him, to break that sexual tension simmering between them…but only until they got up into the mountains. Then the wildcat in her would come out to play and satisfy him.
“I know.”
His gaze fastened on her and she felt that he was having the same trouble she was, trying to break the physical connection. Her panties were drenched, and if she wound her arms around his neck she wouldn’t let go until he’d satisfied her craving for every muscled plane of his body.
“Roxie, I can’t wait much longer. I’ve thought about nothing else but you since this morning.” His voice was seductively low.
Should she ask whether he’d hungered after her the first or the second time? He had to suspect she had been the one in his parking spot? Why bother with questions that might kill the sexual atmosphere they’d created and the electrical tension that insistently hummed between them? She nodded in agreement.
Though the fact that they’d end up in his condo, in the apparent luxury and wealth within its walls, was one feeling she could have done without.
That single nod was enough for Charlie. Taking her by the elbow as if she’d try to make a hasty escape, as a butterfly might, he turned off the bike’s ignition and pulled out the key. Absolute silence reigned and his ears rang.
As was his habit, he was taking charge. He wouldn’t allow Roxie to dictate to him, although he wondered where she would have taken him if he hadn’t been in such a hurry to take care of their wild needs. He dislodged his helmet from his head and set it on the seat along with hers. If he picked her up in his arms and carried his prize across the threshold, would Roxie complain? He suspected she would and refrained from the euphoric action.
Out of habit, he quickly scanned the condos and the countryside before, still cupping her elbow, he ushered her inside. Her mouth didn’t drop open in astonishment as he’d expected, which caused him to wonder again. Who was Roxie really, and where did she come from?
As soon as they were inside and the door was locked, which Charlie made a great point of remembering, she pushed him back against the cool wall, crushing him between it and her soft body. Even through the solid leather he felt her quiver, and he could have sworn her nipples were hard against his chest.
“I want you,” she said, slipping the jacket from his shoulders. He helped her shrug from the sleeves and although normally he’d have folded it and set it on the back of a chair, this time he didn’t care. All his thoughts and every part of him were fully focused on Roxie, his angel of salvation. Her fingers nimbly unfastened the buttons of his shirt, then she pressed her lips against his as she caressed his bare chest with her warm palms. His erection strained for release, and when she reached his belt buckle and freed him, he moaned with relief.
“I wanted you from the moment I first saw you,” she said, her voice laden with silken huskiness.
Charlie stretched his hand out toward the zipper of her leather jacket but she pushed him away.
“Later, you’ll get your turn. For now, you’re all mine. Every single inch of you.”
He thrilled at the notion that forceful, gorgeous Roxie was once again in charge. “You know, normally I’m the one who takes care of my woman.”
She paused as she unzipped his trousers. It was as if a light switch had been turned off. Roxie moistened first her lower lip, then her upper. Her eyes were wild and frightened.
Uh-oh. He’d said words she didn’t want to hear. Most women were excited by a wealthy man calling the shots and by being called “my” woman, but not Roxie.
Her exasperated gaze raked his face and pinned his eyes. “Charles Vernon, I’m only ‘your’ woman for the night. You’d best leave it at that.”
Which is another confirmation that she’s hiding something. Your will be done, as long as you hurry, Roxie, whoever you really might be. In other words, I shouldn’t expect more than what I’m getting. You’ve clearly stated this is a short-term relationship, one night only. I can understand that. A woman who is on the run or covering something up, doesn’t want anyone or anything to hold her down.
Roxie witnessed the recognition of the boundaries she’d set on Charlie’s face and, satisfied that he understood where they were, she lifted her face to his and kissed him. If he had been unyielding she’d have left right away, but he returned the prelude to sex in a practiced manner, just the way she liked her men to be.
Of all the silly choices, why did she have to meddle with Charlie Vernon? Didn’t he have a variety of sources to help him at his fingertips? Couldn’t she have been attracted to someone else? Why did it have to be a prominent lawyer who was wealthy and reminded her of the luxurious lifestyle she’d left behind?
Her tongue laved each of his lips. He tasted fresh, with a hint of lemon. The fire in her veins roared over her as he opened for her. His hot breath mingled with hers, and suddenly she was tugging at the remainder of his clothes with a determined vengeance. Charlie pushed away from the wall and circled his arms around her waist, drawing her lower body to his to trap her fingers between the flat of her stomach and his erect penis.