She’d rattled off several familiar titles but the play
scheduled that evening was special, she’d said with excitement. The drama club
at school had written it, and she was in the drama club. Mike supposed a little
culture wouldn’t hurt him. Lord knew he didn’t get enough in his line of work.
Nonetheless, he’d warned Melissa to forget about the suit
she’d tried to persuade him to wear. He wasn’t a Ken doll. A pair of dress
slacks and a nice shirt would have to do. They’d fought about it briefly but in
the end Mike had won.
His gaze shot to the clock and he flipped off the treadmill,
foregoing warming down. It was all he had time for. He wanted to hit the hot
tub before showering and heading for home. That was just what he needed to help
him wind down from a long day. However, when he rounded the corner to where the
hot tub was located, he came to an abrupt halt, disbelieving his luck.
* * *
*
With her head back and her eyes closed in lazy meditation,
Emma smiled at the ridiculous notion of trying to convince herself she was skiing
on a snow-capped mountain and not slowly boiling in a pot of water. She
supposed that would defeat the purpose anyhow. Although the aches and pains of
a few moments ago were diminishing, her blood pressure had surely shot sky
high.
“You know, it’s dangerous falling asleep in there.”
Her heart gave a little jump but she preferred to think it
was due to the exercises she’d been doing and not the unexpected sound of
Mike’s sexy baritone. She knew it was just a matter of time before they ran
into each other again.
Opening both eyes to his larger-than-life presence, she saw
him standing directly across from her, his thick muscular thighs braced apart
in a stance that reminded her of the dominant pose of a Viking hero she’d seen
on the cover of some romance novel. The gray shorts resembled boxers, dark in
some places where he’d been sweating, and clinging to a part of his body that
provided evidence he was definitely not lacking in male attributes.
The sight of that soft bulge started an inferno inside Emma.
She knew firsthand how it felt having Mike’s cock inside her. Filling her
completely.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” she clarified with a half-smile,
thinking how close she’d been to it, though. Her gaze traveled a lazy path up
Mike’s torso, taking in the way his damp tank top outlined his broad chest and
accentuated his muscular arms. She continued until finally reaching his
laughing eyes. “Are you coming or going?” she asked, wondering why she hadn’t
seen him exercising earlier.
“I’m on my way to the, ah, steam room,” he said after a brief
hesitation. “You know you’re supposed to wear a bathing suit in there, don’t
you?”
Emma grew uncomfortable beneath his cocky grin. She was
already hot, yet his expression, the sensual look in his eyes as they took in
her clinging outfit, made her even warmer. She tried to control the erratic
beating of her heart.
“Sorry, I’m not up on hot tub etiquette yet.” And she’d
forgotten her swimsuit. Deciding she’d been in long enough, she began to wade
to the steps. “I’m getting out anyway. I feel cooked enough.”
“You do look a little overdone,” he agreed, stepping aside
as she walked up the steps.
Meeting his eyes, Emma had an odd feeling that Mike wasn’t
saying exactly what was on his mind. The bold look in his silent inspection
told her he liked what he saw, very much. She was mortified when she felt her
nipples peak, and convinced herself it was the cool air hitting them. His gaze
was drawn to them like a magnet and she held her breath, but he only looked for
a second.
They reached simultaneously for the towel she’d draped over
the rail, their hands accidentally touching. Emma drew back, releasing a gasp
that seemed to echo off the tiled walls. Mike snatched the towel almost
angrily, holding it out to her. The sudden spark in his eyes mesmerized her.
“Thanks,” she murmured, clutching the towel to the front of
her as though it offered some form of protection. “I guess I’ll grab a shower.”
She took a step on the slippery tile, her leg shooting out from under her.
“Oh!” There was nothing she could do to stop herself from going down. She
braced herself to hit the floor.
“I’ve got you!”
Mike’s voice was low and deep, warmly intimate as he caught
Emma against his chest. His hands curled around the flesh of her upper arms the
same time her arms came up between them, her hands flattening against his
chest. She felt his heart beating beneath her palms, the rhythm matching the
erratic tempo of her pulse.
Tilting her head enough to peer into his eyes, she
exclaimed, “Goodness! I seem to be accident-prone lately and it seems you’re always
there to rescue me. You must be getting tired of this.”
Her comment was followed by a nervous laugh but all Mike did
was stare down at her. He was too much aware of her against him. Even with a
towel between them he could feel the heat of her body.
He’d been thinking about that mouth of hers since the other
day when he’d left her with Elliot. He wanted to taste her again, surprised at
how strong the need became when he was within feet of her.
Besides, what
harm could one little kiss do? It didn’t mean anything.
And maybe kissing
her would help ease the ache below his belt.
He heard her breath catch, watched her eyes flare with
feminine surprise, but it didn’t keep him from lowering his head
“What are you doing?” She leaned back. The humor in those
damn eyes of hers was spilling over, making her that much more appealing to
him.
He chuckled. “Nothing…yet.”
Her soft voice seemed overloud in the small room. Mike
watched her tongue sweep across her bottom lip, the action firing his blood
with lust. The next sound echoing off the tiles was his low groan as he gave
into a need so strong that it rendered him out of control. Before he realized
it, he was pushing Emma backwards until he had her against the wall, and his
body against hers.
His gaze blazed down into hers. He would have stopped then
and there if he hadn’t noticed her pupils dilate with a hunger just as powerful
as his.
Her mouth parted and that was all the invitation he needed.
He slanted his mouth over hers in a kiss that was every bit as sweet as it was
savage. His hands roamed over her wet form, caressing her shapely outline.
Passion ignited like wildfire on a summer day; fast and
furious it consumed them. As the sounds of their mutual desire echoed through
the room, Emma opened her mouth to his thrusting tongue, melting against him
with a moan of pleasure. Her sweet sound of surrender urged Mike into deepening
the kiss, feeding the hunger that raced through his blood. As his mouth moved
hungrily over hers, his cock leapt to life.
She released a sweet sound of surrender against his mouth,
and arched her lower body. In turn Mike thrust against Emma. He wanted her to
feel what she did to him. He wanted her just as hungry. His hands glided down
to her hips and around to cup her bottom. She’d have to be dead or indifferent
not to notice he was aroused. He ground his cock against her. Her response told
him she was neither.
As much as her kitten sounds and twisting body turned him
on, it scared him more, bringing him back to his senses and reality quicker
than as if a gun had gone off because he wanted Emma in the most raw and basic
way. He wanted her now, against the wall, on the floor, Mike didn’t care.
Kissing and touching in a public place was one thing, but
there was no way he was going to fuck Emma where someone might catch them. He
didn’t know where he found the strength to tear his mouth away. Leaning his
forehead against the softness of hers, he took in a ragged breath.
“Emma…this isn’t…very wise.” Mike could barely get the words
out. He couldn’t control the unexpected shudder that racked his highly aroused
body.
“I believe you’re the one who initiated it, Detective,” she
replied in a breathless whisper. “I’m innocent.” She moved against him, teasing
him.
“I’m not a very smart man,” he countered, still struggling
for control. “And you’re far from innocent, honey.”
When Emma’s tongue darted out to caress his upper lip, it
was the straw that broke the camel’s back. His heart slammed against his ribs,
his limbs quaking as if in the throes of a powerful orgasm. “Emma…Emma…” he
whispered regretfully, and tilted his head to run his open mouth against the
side of her smooth neck.
She cried out, arching into his roaming mouth while
encouraging him to continue. Mike didn’t need any encouragement, using his
teeth, tongue and lips to turn her into a wild and sensuous woman in his arms.
One who conveyed the message that she wanted him with every little gasp and
movement of her body. Her hands smoothed over his shoulders with urgency.
“Mike!” she gasped, when he moved against a particularly
sensitive spot behind her ear. His hands moved to her hips, sliding up to cup
her breasts. His thumbs flicked over her taut nipples making her shiver.
“Oops! Sorry, I’ll come back.”
Mike stiffened upon hearing Amanda’s voice behind him but he
didn’t move, wanting to shield Emma as much as possible from her sister’s
prying eyes. When he sensed Amanda had gone, he took a deep breath, and stepped
away from Emma. His gaze moved over her glowing face, not missing the bright
excitement flickering in her eyes and pleased that he’d been the one to put it
there.
“Well,” Emma began with breathless wonder, a little smile on
her swollen, trembling mouth.
Mike responded with a slow grin of his own. “That’s not
exactly the kind of response I’m looking for after kissing you breathless,” he
joked.
“Then how about, wow!” she offered, barely able to meet his
eyes. “And I’m not just talking about the kiss.”
His lips quirked and he stepped back to give her more room.
I can’t agree more.
Any more time with Emma and I’ll be a goner.
He sucked in a deep breath. “You can move away from the wall
now.”
“No, I can’t.”
He frowned. “Are you okay?”
“I can’t feel my legs.”
Her full-blown smile said more than words. She was in as bad
a shape as he was. Mike turned away before he gave into the urge to plant
another one on her. And more.
The kisses between them had rocked his world, and he was
still reeling from the impact of touching her. There was nothing harmless about
Emma, or his immediate response to her.
“You pack a serious punch, lady.” He didn’t look at her
until he felt he’d moved a safe enough distance away. “And before you go spouting
off something about the morals of a married man making a move on another
woman…”
“I know you’re not married, Mike,” she admitted.
She’d managed to catch him by surprise.
“I’ve known since the Halloween party.”
There wasn’t a trace of remorse in her amused tone.
Amanda must have told her. Mike swung around, not sure how
he felt over her admission. Her laughing eyes still showed signs of arousal,
the healthy color in her face giving her a radiance he rarely took note of in a
woman he’d just kissed the daylights out of.
“What, did pretending I was married make you feel safer?”
“Actually I think it made you feel safer.” Emma crossed her
arms in an unconscious gesture of defiance. “You’re the one who let me go on
believing you were married, Mike. Why? It certainly didn’t stop you from making
love to me the other night. Is that how you remain in control of your
relationships?”
Mike didn’t like where their conversation was going, partly
because Emma was right. Only he hadn’t realized it until now. He’d never used
his marital status as a means to control his relationships before. But a
desperate man took desperate measures and that’s what he was. He’d use anything
to aid him in not getting romantically, much less emotionally involved with
anyone right now.
A one-night stand, and a few kisses didn’t mean they were
involved in anything serious. However, there was one misconception he refused
to let Emma continue believing. He walked back to her at a leisurely pace.
“You’re wrong about one thing, Emma. If I let you believe I
was married, it wasn’t because I’m not interested in you. The truth is I’m too
damn interested, and I don’t want to be!”
She flinched at the sharpness of his tone, and held her
ground as he closed the distance between them. Remembering the passion they’d
shared and how fast things had escalated, he halted, self-preservation kicking
in. He knew it wouldn’t take much incentive to kiss her again, or more. And on
the scale between one and ten his willpower was at two and still dropping.
The truth was, he wanted to fuck her until neither of them
could stand.
“That’s an interesting style you have, Detective,” she
acknowledged softly. “Tell me, if you’re attracted to a woman, how does that
work? Most decent women I know wouldn’t let a married man get within a foot of
her if she sensed he wanted something other than friendship. I only let my
guard down the other night because I was, ah, vulnerable from the effect of,
ah, alcohol.”
Mike noticed she had a hard time getting the words out.
Maybe because it was a lie. She’d been very much aware of what she was doing
and had responded wildly, and with passion.
He couldn’t help it. He reached forward and toyed with a
damp curl resting on her forehead. With a life of its own it curled like a
ribbon of shimmering silk around his finger.
“It’s too soon to know how it works, since this is the first
time I’ve used it,” he confessed matter-of-factly.
“Why?”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes, Mike,” she said without hesitation. “I really want to
know.”
His eyes were on the hair he was casually twirling around
his finger, until her soft response drew his attention. He stopped what he was
doing, focusing on her lovely, confused eyes for a moment before deciding she
deserved to know the truth. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.
“Because I’m lousy at relationships.” He released her hair.
“And Melissa’s the one who gets hurt in the end. Right now my focus in life is
just surviving her teenage years. So no matter how tempting you are, Emma, or
how much I want to fuck you again, it’s not going to happen.”
Before he made himself out to be a liar, he turned and
walked away.
Chapter 12
“I can’t do it!” Emma insisted not for the first time,
backing up when it became obvious that Teresa Bates wasn’t going to take no for
an answer. “I didn’t rehearse for that part.”
Teresa, who was in charge of producing the show and well
known for her bulldog tactics when it came to getting her own way, didn’t
hesitate to use them on Emma, who was quickly backing her way into a corner.
“You have to, sweetie, there’s no one else,” Teresa declared firmly. “You’ll be
great. And it’s a very short piece.”
Emma shook her head vigorously. “I can’t! I don’t know
anything about Lola’s part. I was the understudy for the abused wife,
remember?” She shot a nervous glance around the room, her eyes pleading for
help from the other actors present. She wanted the play to be successful too
but she wasn’t about to go out there and make a fool of herself.
“I thought you said you support the theater,” Teresa reminded
her, sounding almost tearful.
Emma wasn’t buying it.
“Sandy eloped this afternoon and left us high and dry.”
“That’s not my fault,” Emma said, her back against the wall,
literally. “What about her understudy?” She glanced at the sea of faces
crowding around her, wondering who that was.
“That would be me,” someone rasped in a barely audible
whisper. Melanie Rice stepped forward, her hand at her throat and her nose as
red as a cherry. Her expression was apologetic. “I came down with a bad cold
yesterday and I always lose my voice, sorry,” she explained in a sad little
voice.
Emma took a deep breath, returning her gaze to Teresa. “I
can’t,” she insisted stiffly. “The play starts in an hour and…” She hesitated,
looking for an ally. Everyone seemed to be holding their breaths, waiting for
her final decision. Even Elliot was looking at her with big puppy dog eyes,
silently pleading with her to say yes. Her gaze landed on another understudy.
“What about Mary?”
Someone laughed out loud before quickly cutting it short
behind their palm. “The part calls for a, ah, younger woman,” Teresa said,
shooting the sixty-year-old Mary a look of regret.
“Tessa?” Emma said hopefully, glancing at the first grade
schoolteacher who was a little on the plump side.
“She won’t fit into the costume,” Teresa quickly explained,
ruling her out.
Her eyes shot to the quiet, little bookworm with mousy brown
hair and large thick glasses. “Joy?”
Teresa shook her head negatively. “Doesn’t have the right
look,” Teresa said. “If we want this play to be taken seriously, we need the
right people in the right parts.”
Emma’s brows furrowed. She was beginning to get a sick
feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her she was losing ground. She
couldn’t let everyone down. They were all watching her with pitiful looks in
their eyes and dejected expressions on their faces. In spite of her fears, she
knew, and Teresa knew, that it was just a matter of time before she caved.
“There’s no way I’ll have time to study the script,” she
began. The sigh of relief from the group was like a canon going off and
suddenly everyone was disappearing back inside their dressing rooms, assuming
the problem was solved.
“You can ad-lib.” Teresa smiled, taking Emma by the arm and
dragging her away from the wall. “It’s a stereotype part, a piece of cake. All
you have to do is follow Donald’s lead since all your lines are with him.”
Donald’s lead? In studying the abused housewife part Emma
hadn’t concerned herself with the other characters in the play. “Just what is
Lola’s part?” she asked suspiciously. She became worried when Teresa suddenly
looked away, glancing down at her feet as if she’d find the answer there.
“Teresa?” she urged, the sick feeling in her stomach
intensifying.
“She’s a-a, you know, a prostitute.”
Emma regretted her decision to do the character as soon as
Teresa ushered her into a dressing room and made her change into a slutty pink
costume, a platinum wig that resembled a small toy poodle and enough makeup for
a clown’s face. The accessories were just as bad. Gaudy jewelry the size of
fruit and huge hoop earrings that dangled all the way down to her shoulders,
tangling instantly in the fluffy, white boa Teresa wrapped around her neck like
a giant anaconda.
However, it was the four-inch high heels that threatened to
end Emma’s brief acting career before she even left the dressing room. She
wobbled to the door and actually stumbled into the back hallway, swearing
beneath her breath. She just knew she was going to make a fool of herself on
stage before the end of the evening, if not fall and break her leg.
As she walked unsteadily toward the stage she hastily
skimmed over the script for Lola’s part, deciding she’d do better by drawing on
what little she’d seen on TV. It was still unclear if she was supposed to play
a sleazy prostitute or a funny one but going by her costume it was the latter.
She joined the rest of the costumed actors who were already situated at their
perspective places on stage, waiting for the curtain to go up for the first act
with a feeling of doom churning in the pit of her stomach. She was a fool for
letting Teresa talk her into this.
Finally the lights came on and Teresa gave the signal to
raise the curtain. Emma took several deep breaths to steady her nerves as the audience
gradually came into view. It was a small theater and it didn’t take long to see
that all two hundred and seventy-five seats were filled with some of Stratton’s
finest citizens. However, none of that mattered because the first one her eyes
landed on was none other than Mike, sitting in the third row directly in front
of the stage. What was he doing there and how was she supposed to act with him
watching? With a little luck and a lot of praying maybe he wouldn’t recognize
her.
But Emma knew she’d need more than luck on her side, and the
only way she was going to get through the play was pretend he wasn’t there.
* * *
*
Mike’s mind was a thousand miles away when the heavy curtain
was drawn back and the audience quieted down with anticipation. He made a
half-hearted attempt to straighten up in his seat and look excited when Melissa
glanced his way, an eager grin on her face and a bright look in her eyes that
promised he wouldn’t be sorry he came. Once she turned her attention back to
the stage he released a deep breath, trying to get comfortable but there was no
place to stretch out his legs.
What lacked in comfort was made up for in décor. Mike had to
give the Historic Society credit, they’d done a good job renovating the inside
of the theater back to its turn-of-the-century look, obviously going by the
many old portraits on the walls as resources to copy the Victorian style. The
seats, though small, were done in plush red velvet, the same velvet as the
heavy drapes onstage. The woodwork had been refinished back to its rich, dark
mahogany. Brass fixtures had been polished. It was a shame the town was
considering tearing it down.
The audience’s laughter pulled him back to what was
happening onstage. His gaze riveted there in time to see an actress stumble and
make a grab for one of the barstools. Even without glancing at the program
given at the front door it was obvious by her attire she was playing the part
of a hooker. The audience laughed again when she cautiously released the stool
to balance herself, before continuing in the direction of the man sitting at
the end of the bar. Her attempt at a seductive glide across stage turned into
crooked, unsteady sway.
Mike grinned. She was wearing four-inch heels, which
accentuated her shapely legs. Like any appreciative male would, he followed the
line of her legs until they disappeared beneath the short, pink skirt she was
wearing. His smile widened when she tried to sit on the barstool and couldn’t.
Something in the way she tugged on the too-short skirt caused a frown to appear
between his eyes, triggering a memory that eluded him. Curious, he opened the
program, and glanced down the list of actors to see who was playing the part.
Sandy Dennison. He quickly glanced back at Lola.
There was no way that was Sandy because word was out she’d
left town that afternoon to get married. Besides, she was a buxom blonde,
almost six feet tall. So, who was filling in for her? His gaze ran over Lola
more thoroughly and the answer came to him immediately when he saw her
unconsciously tug her blouse up where it had fallen off her shoulder.
Chuckling, he began looking on with more interest. Suddenly
his cramped position didn’t seem so bad anymore. However, the quirk on his
mouth quickly vanished when he watched Emma slither up against the man at the
bar, who in turn pulled the boa from around her neck in one smooth move.
Words were said, there was an exchange of touches and
lingering looks and then the man grabbed Emma to him in a lusty embrace. Her
throaty laugh echoed through the room as she leaned away from his approaching
lips, teasing him by running her tongue over the bright red lipstick covering
her mouth. As she turned her face towards the audience, it was then their eyes
met full on. Even beneath the layers of makeup Mike could see her blush when
she realized that he knew who she was.
He responded to the glimmer of humor dancing in the depths
of her eyes until she turned her face back to the man intent on kissing her. He
tugged her closer and Emma laughed gaily, dropping her hands on his shoulders,
teasing him, whispering promises. It was just a part. Mike ignored the jealousy
eating away in his belly. He supposed she had no choice in letting the man kiss
her but at the last second she turned away, his mouth grazing her cheek
instead. Mike didn’t know what was worse, seeing her get slapped around or
watching another man kiss her.
There was one thing he did know though, it was going to be a
long night.
* * *
*
As soon as the curtain fell for the last time, Emma said a
silent prayer the play was finally over, and turned to make a hasty retreat to
her dressing room. It had been the longest two hours of her life and she couldn’t
wait to get out of her costume and shower. She’d been slobbered on and
manhandled but if the roaring applause was anything to go by it had been worth
it. The first play of the season had definitely been a huge success.
“Will you just listen to that applause? We’re bringing down
the house!” Elliot beamed backstage, giving Emma a brief hug. “This is just the
beginning, kiddo!”
“Don’t go running off,” Teresa gushed, before Emma could
respond to Elliot’s enthusiasm. “The audience is expecting a curtain call. Then
there’s the group photo with the mayor and a reporter…”
The applause and cheers drowned out the rest of her words.
“We’re going to be famous,” Elliot joked.
Emma had no choice but to follow the line of performers
heading back to the stage.
Rolling her eyes, Emma hesitated, watching them walk away.
She was going to be famous all right, for playing a clumsy prostitute who
couldn’t make up her mind if she was supposed to be sexy or funny and aiming
for something in between. In spite of that, she couldn’t fault their
enthusiasm. They’d accomplished what they set out to do: proving to the mayor
the money spent so far for refurbishing the building had been worth it. Now
maybe he’d dig a little deeper in the city’s pockets so they could finish the
project.
“Come on, Lola, you’re going to miss the curtain call!”
That was the point. Her eyes followed Charlie, the
bartender, as he rushed behind the rest. She bit down on her bottom lip, hoping
no one noticed her lagging behind, wondering if Mike and his daughter were
still out there. She recalled seeing Melissa grab his arm with girlish excitement
during several scenes, scenes where Emma’s character had caused a laugh or two
by messing up or stumbling ungracefully. The only thing that had kept her from
walking offstage and not going back was the hope that the audience thought her
flubs were part of the scene.
She saw Elliot and several others motioning for her to join
them and with a frustrated sigh headed their way. But not before she slipped
off the ridiculously high heels torturing her feet. Tossing them aside, she
drew the boa around her neck and joined the line of performers just as the
curtain rose. The audience gave them a standing ovation, loud cheers and
applause thundered through the theater. Yet all Emma saw was the intense allure
of electric eyes and a sexy grin that turned her world inside out.
She knew at that moment she was falling in love with Mike
Denton.
Chapter 13
“Dad, please!” Melissa pleaded, tugging persistently on
Mike’s arm. “I helped write Lola’s part. I want to meet her,” she implored,
referring to Emma as though she alone was the cause for her mere existence.
They were standing in front of their seats waiting for the
others in their row to move so they could exit. Gradually the noise began to
die down and people started to leave. The actors onstage were posing for a
group picture for the newspaper. Mike didn’t like the fact Emma was being
prompted to sit on the lap of the guy who’d played her John. The smile on his
face revealed he was a little too happy over it. But why wouldn’t he be?