Why can’t I get her out of my mind?
Dumb question.
Emma was beautiful, charming, had a
sense of humor and she’d gotten to him quicker than any other woman he knew.
Being sexy didn’t hurt either. For the first time in a long time he began to
worry that maybe he didn’t have what it took to stick with his game plan.
He’d already fucked the beauty once, and he wanted to do it
again. He had talked himself into thinking that having sex now and again was
okay, just as long as he kept his feelings in check. And he never screwed the
same woman more than once. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but he
didn’t have a chance in hell of keeping that number one rule now.
His mind kept drifting back to the night before, in Emma’s
bathroom. If Amanda hadn’t phoned when she had Mike knew without a doubt he
would have carried Emma to her bedroom and made love to her all over again.
Moreover, his gut told him she wouldn’t have protested.
Emma didn’t seem like the kind of woman who slipped into a
man’s bed casually, so her total surrender had certainly surprised him. He
recalled how badly he’d wanted to kiss her. How she’d kissed him back and
slipped her tongue inside his mouth. At the time he’d been afraid of the
intensity of his feelings. But he couldn’t have stopped from fucking her, and
he’d left his mark on her for the whole damn town to see. He wondered what she
thought about that this morning.
Taking a deep breath, he narrowed his gaze on the woman
walking toward the pier, instinct telling him it was Emma. From this distance
Mike couldn’t tell what she was doing, only that she was alone.
Feeling a nibble on his line, Mike gave it a sharp tug and started
to reel, coming up empty-handed again as the fish got away with the bait. Hell,
at this rate he might as well dump the whole bucket of night crawlers into the
lake. He set his rod to the side, opening the cooler for a beer. Two left, he’d
have to head back soon. He popped the top and brought it to his lips, taking a
long swallow.
Movement from the bank drew his attention there again and he
realized someone had joined Emma. He strained to see, determining by the build
it was a man. Emma had moved off the pier and from Mike’s viewpoint it looked
like they were arguing. When he saw the man put his hands on her, Mike tossed
his half-empty beer aside and started the outboard motor. As he turned the boat
for shore and moved closer, fear for Emma churned in his gut when he saw the
man slap her across the face.
* * *
*
“Hit me harder, Elliot,” Emma ordered, automatically bracing
herself for the blow. He was supposed to be her abusive husband and she knew if
he didn’t get over his fear of hurting her, all the rehearsing in the world
wouldn’t make the scene seem real. And the theater was counting on the success
of this production, as all the others, to keep its doors open.
The look on Elliot’s face warned Emma he was struggling with
himself. They’d only been friends for two years, ever since answering an ad for
actors in the town newspaper, and joining the small production company. During
lunch one day after a rehearsal he’d confessed that his father had been
physically abusive toward his mother, so she knew him well enough to know he
abhorred violence of any kind, especially when it was directed toward women.
“We’ve devoted two years to building up interest in the old
theater downtown; do you want all our hard work to be for nothing?” She enjoyed
the small bit parts she was given and would hate to see the theatre doors
closed again.
“I’m afraid to hurt you,” he said, holding back with real
worry in his brown eyes. “It goes against my nature to strike a woman.”
“You’re not going to punch me; just give me a harder slap so
it looks real.” She stiffened her posture. “Now hit me again. I can take it.”
Pressing his lips, Elliot hit her, this time so hard that
Emma’s head snapped back and real tears sprang to her eyes. He rushed to her
side immediately.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…”
“Don’t touch me you, you…jerk!” Emma screeched, staying in
character when it was obvious Elliot hadn’t. She hoped he took the hint. If he
thought for a minute he’d really hurt her, they’d never make it through the
scene, much less the brief parts they had. That is if they got to do it since
they were both understudies for the real actors. She squared her shoulders,
encouraged by the look of gradual dawning in his eyes. “My mother always said
you were no good. I should have listened to her. If you ever hit me again…”
“You’ll do what? Run home to daddy?” He raised his hand
high, fully intending to strike her down as the part called for him to do. Emma
screamed and turned to run but he reached out, snagging her shirt and yanking
her back into his arms. Both their eyes grew round at the sound of tearing
seams but Elliot kept on with the scene. “You bitch! Just where do you think
you’re going?”
“Let me go!” Emma screamed, trying not to laugh. Hearing him
swear struck her funny bone because Elliot never swore.
He backhanded her, careful not to overdo it this time.
“Daddy won’t be able to save…” Emma watched his eyes fill with stark terror
before he released her and turned to run in the opposite direction.
“Elliot?” This was definitely not in the script. He was
running as if his life depended on it. She watched him almost stumble to the
ground, and then disappear around the corner of the house. She turned around to
see what had frightened him. “Mike?” she gasped softly. What was he doing there?
Her gaze took in the boat behind him. She and Elliot had
been so engrossed in their parts, they hadn’t heard him approach the pier. He
was racing in their direction like a locomotive out of control. His face was
twisted with rage and the closer he got the more it began to dawn on Emma what
was going through his mind. He looked primed to kill, and she felt real fear
that if he caught up to Elliot that’s exactly what he would do. She purposely
stepped into his path, hoping to stop him.
“Mike, stop!” she cried, holding her arms out as though to
halt his progress. He started to sidestep her but Emma followed his movements,
practically throwing her body at him. She realized immediately it wasn’t her
brightest move but all she could think of was stopping him. At the last second
he pulled up but it was too late. A whoosh rushed from her and a grunt escaped
him as their bodies collided and he bore her backwards to the ground.
For a moment Emma saw stars. The force of his body slamming
into her knocked the wind out of her and she could only lie there, gasping
painfully in an effort to fill her lungs. An impossible feat considering he was
on top of her. As panic set in she began to squirm, hoping to get her message
across. Something worked because he suddenly rolled away and she was able to
suck in a mouthful of air.
He was panting wildly too. “What…the hell…were…you
thinking…of?” Sprawled on his back, his chest heaved up and down rapidly.
“I…could have…killed you.”
“I’m…sorry…”
“Sorry? Hell… Emma, never get in the…line of fire…no matter
what’s coming at you. I was running after…your friend,” he said sarcastically.
“The one who…was knocking you around.”
“That’s why I wanted to stop you.” She breathed a little
easier now. “Elliot’s a friend.”
“It didn’t look like that from where I was standing.”
Smiling against her will, Emma explained softly, “We were
rehearsing a part for a play. Elliot plays my abusive, skirt-chasing husband.”
Mike gradually rolled to his side so he could peer down at
her. “You’re kidding.” His tone clearly said he didn’t believe what he was
hearing.
Emma’s gaze went back and forth between his eyes to his
mouth as she slowly shook her head, confirming it. She couldn’t help it; he had
such a sensuous mouth.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue, although I’ll probably
never see Elliot again. He probably won’t stop running until he crosses the
state line.”
“Oh god.” Mike fell back with a snort of disgust. “That will
teach me to jump to conclusions. When I saw him strike you…” He quickly cut
himself off as though afraid of what he’d been about to divulge. “I hit you
like a quarterback making a tackle. Are you okay?”
Emma closed her eyes, and chuckled softly. “I think every
bone in my body is broken but otherwise I’m great.” So far she hadn’t moved
from her position.
“Do I need to feel for broken bones?”
Her eyes bolted open at his remark, her breath catching at
his closeness. She hadn’t heard him move, but he was leaning over her again,
only closer this time. His eyes were making a lazy sweep down her front. She
reached up to make sure none of the buttons on her shirt had come undone.
His sexy grin made a slow burn sweep through her body. When
his gaze lingered on her throat Emma knew without a doubt his eyes were focused
on the Band-Aid.
“Try it, Detective, and you might end up with a few broken
bones yourself,” she threatened softly, her heart fluttering in her throat at
just the thought of Mike touching her again. “Or at the very least another
black eye.”
“I’ve delivered babies.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not buying that line again. I think you
made it up just to, to…”
“Get inside your pants?” he asked outrageously.
His face broke out in a full-fledged grin that took her
breath away all over again.
“Besides, you didn’t seem to mind last night.”
He would go there. The sensual warmth of his voice awakened
Emma’s senses, making her aware of just how much she was attracted to him. She
was mesmerized by the transformation on his face. He looked younger and less
threatening when he smiled, almost boyish. The thought crossed her mind that she’d
like to knock that baseball cap off his head and tangle her fingers through his
uncombed hair, just to see how he’d react.
Before she realized it, she was doing just that. She reached
up; only instead of knocking his hat off she gently pulled it off, placing it
on her stomach. Avoiding his eyes because she knew she’d lose her nerve, she
slowly raised her hand, and brushed the hair back from his brow before
threading her fingers through the rich thickness.
“Emma?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?”
Her eyes moved from watching the movement of her hand to
meeting the smoldering intensity in his eyes. She caught her breath. The hunger
stamped on his expression was exciting, yet frightening. What was she doing? It
wasn’t like her to take the initiative with a man.
Still, the need to kiss him became so overpowering that
nothing short of an earthquake was going to stop her. She didn’t care about the
consequences. She curled her fingers in his hair and lowered her gaze to his
lips. Ever so slowly she guided his head down to hers.
“If you want me to stop, you’d better tell me now, Detective,
otherwise I’m going to kiss you,” she purred, just inches from his mouth. She
moved until she was close enough to feel his lips curve into a lazy smile
against hers.
“I believe that’s my line.”
Chapter 10
Mike pressed his mouth to Emma’s and took the kiss she was
offering. Only a fool would turn her down. She was sweet and soft and all too
tempting. He rolled until he was half-covering her body, and deepened the kiss.
Her soft sigh of acceptance urged him to do more. She needed
no coaxing and let his tongue push through her slightly parted lips to taste
heaven. She was potent. He felt his cock respond almost immediately.
A commotion ruined the moment, and he jerked back. He
glanced up just as a huge black dog raced around the corner of the house. It
was being chased by two laughing little boys who were shouting and making
enough racket to break the sound barrier. Soon after an elderly couple, arm-in-arm,
followed close behind them.
“Looks like we have company.” He watched them for a moment
before lowering his gaze back to Emma. The little witch, she was smiling, those
doelike eyes filled with mirth as if she’d known all along they’d been about to
be interrupted. He had a mind to kiss her again, but decided it would be a
mistake in his current condition. The interruption couldn’t have come at a
better moment.
Without trying to be obvious he rolled off Emma and willed
his body to calm down. Now wasn’t the time. But lately it appeared fate, that
entity he’d mocked at the Halloween party, kept tossing them together.
A more logical explanation was that someone, more
specifically Amanda, had a hand in it. Yet Mike dismissed that thought just as
quickly, doubting she’d talked Emma into moving to the very lake he fished on
every weekend just because she knew some of his habits.
“That was close,” she teased with a twinkle in her eyes.
“Good thing we were interrupted. I’m sorry, Mike. For a moment I’d forgotten
you’re married. I’m not in the habit of…”
“You forgot for more than a moment last night.” He felt his
anger surfacing, frustration getting the better of him. That and the
realization it was his own damn fault. It was on the tip of his tongue to spit
out the truth but he held back, rolling to his feet.
He offered his hand for assistance, his gaze traveling to
where the boys were playing near the edge of the water with their dog. The
older couple, probably the grandparents, were keeping a watchful eye on
everyone, just waiting for an opportunity to say something.
He couldn’t blame them. Kids got enough sex and violence on
TV these days. They didn’t need to see it in their own backyards. It wasn’t
going to be hard disappointing them from having to say something. Mike wasn’t
much into public displays.
When he kissed a woman, other than the occasional peck on
the cheek he bestowed on his mother or daughter, or the sloppy uncle kisses he
gave his nieces, he liked privacy. Kissing a woman he desired usually led to
other things and he wasn’t some oversexed stud who couldn’t keep it in his
pants. He was disciplined enough to keep his head, yet there was always a first
time of losing control.