Her workouts were paying off. The bodice complimented her
rounded breasts while the tight waistline accentuated her waist, flowing like a
midnight waterfall over her shapely hips. Black silk stockings encased her
legs, producing a naughty image when she thought about them. They’d been a
last-minute purchase Amanda had talked her into. She’d never owned a pair of
real stockings before and had to admit that the look of them with the garter
belt and three-inch heels made her legs appear long and sexy.
Emma wondered what Mike would think as she slipped on a pair
of dangling garnet earrings. She wanted to know, but was she brave enough to
face the consequences dressing provocatively would reveal? Yes, she was more
than ready for the sexy detective’s response.
Brushing her hair, she grabbed an antique comb decorated
with garnet stones and clipped it on top of her head in a casual fashion that
left several strands of loose curls against her neck.
As she slipped into the jacket, she glanced at the clock,
expecting the doorbell to ring at any time.
* * *
*
Mike turned off the ignition and sat in his truck for a few
minutes, staring at Emma’s door while wondering for the hundredth time what
he’d gotten himself into. Inviting her to the dance had been a spur-of-the-moment
thing and at the time had seemed right. He’d needed a date and up until that
point his only possibilities had either been Melissa, or the little old lady
who handed him his mail every morning at the local post office.
He’d picked up the phone several times during the last few
days to call and cancel; the policeman’s dance wasn’t something he usually
attended anyway. He didn’t mind being appreciated but show it in his paycheck.
Besides, he hated dressing up. Yet there he was because he hadn’t followed
through with his plans to cancel.
In the end he couldn’t do that to Emma. It wasn’t her fault
he found her sexy or that every time they were together it led to a session of
hot sex. Only he was honest enough to admit his feelings had grown to include
something a hell of a lot more than satisfying just an itch.
Somehow without realizing it he found himself at her front
door. He rang the bell, the feeling in his gut similar to the excitement he’d
experienced when he’d had his first kiss in grade school. Hell, he was already
growing warm with the anticipation of where this evening would end.
He saw Emma’s shadow pass by the semi-sheer curtains. And
then she was opening the door with a welcoming smile on her beautiful face the
size of the sun. And lord she was beautiful. Mike tried to swallow but a lump
lodged in his throat. His eyes raked over her with hunger, starting from the
top of her head all the way down to her slender ankles and those sexy high
heels. His cock was quick to show his appreciation.
His first instinct was to grab her and kiss her breathless
but he knew what a colossal mistake that would be. They’d never make it to the
dance because if he kissed her, he wasn’t going to let her go. He tried like
hell to ignore the lower half of his body and the fact that it was pounding
painfully behind a tight zipper. And he’d thought he had control? These days he
was acting like a randy teenager.
“Good evening,” Emma said and beamed prettily, her eyes
shining with a sparkle of happiness that held him bewitched. She stepped back
so Mike could enter. “You look good enough to eat, Detective.”
Mike nearly swallowed his tongue, as thoughts of licking her
sweet pussy came to mind. She was so responsive. “Then you’d definitely be the
dessert.” He hesitated from walking past the threshold. “You’re breathtaking.”
Her smile widened. “Why thank you. Are you coming in or are
we leaving right away?”
“I think it’s safer if we go now.” The secretive smile in
her eyes made him nervous, like she knew something he didn’t. “Unless you’re
not ready?”
“Just let me get my purse.”
When Emma turned to retrieve it from the kitchen countertop
Mike’s gaze fell, taking in the provocative swing of her backside before
sliding down the backs of her million dollar legs. He closed his eyes, but that
only sharpened his other senses. The tantalizing scent she left behind made him
ravenous
¼
dizzy.
“Are you okay?”
He opened his eyes to see the concern reflected on her face
as she came closer. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, instead reaching
forward to take her gently by the arm. As he ushered her outside he closed the
door, making sure it was locked.
“Is that little jacket going to be enough?” he asked as they
walked to his truck. The weather didn’t call for snow but the temperature had
dropped considerably.
“I hadn’t thought of that; maybe I better go back and get
one for later.”
As she moved to turn, Mike grabbed her arm, halting her.
Ignoring her soft gasp, he swung her around until she was facing him. For a
moment he allowed himself the luxury of leaning against his truck and pulling
her close. He knew he was courting trouble but he wanted to feel her against
him.
“Forget it, I’ll keep you warm,” he commented, drawing in a
long breath. “Damn, you smell good.”
His head came down just before his lips touched hers. He meant
it to be brief but once their lips were meshed pulling away was the last thing
on his mind. He crushed Emma against his aroused body, groaning weakly when she
opened her mouth and allowed his tongue inside. He thrust his cock against her
roughly before finding the strength to pull away.
“Hell, sweetheart, you make me forget everything. We’d
better get going.”
He opened the truck door but Emma hesitated, pinning him
with those smoky eyes of hers. Her silky tone was serious, slightly
disappointed. And very seductive.
“That was just getting good, too.”
“You want to go dancing?” She nodded, a mischievous look
spreading across her features. She knew, damn her! “Then don’t tempt me,” he
said gruffly.
“But…”
“And if I were you, I’d keep quiet until we get to the
dance.” He quickly ushered her inside. “I just might be able to pretend you’re
not sitting next to me and concentrate long enough to make it there without an
accident.”
Her soft laughter filled the cab of the truck, and Mike’s
heart.
* * *
*
Emma watched Mike walk around the front of the truck,
smiling at the fierce expression stamped on his handsome face and wondering
what put it there. Her comment about him looking good enough to eat was an
understatement. He cleaned up nice. Not that he looked all that unappealing in
casual or regular clothes, but in formal attire he made her think of
Cinderella’s Prince Charming. She glanced down at her black heels with a quirky
grin, wondering if she’d be losing more than her shoes that night. If she had
her way she would.
Sighing heavily, she settled back against the seat,
determined to respect Mike’s wishes and remain quiet. Sooner or later he’d have
to talk to her. For a while she watched the scenery, glad the radio was on to
drown out the silence. She listened to several country western songs before
peeking at Mike from the corner of her eye. He appeared to be concentrating so
hard on driving that she might as well not be there.
Suddenly Emma couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “I see
you got your window repaired.” She rolled her eyes at the inept comment, not
exactly what she had on her mind to draw him into conversation.
He shot her a look of amusement, one corner of his mouth
higher than the other. “A couple weeks ago,” he confirmed.
Has it been that long?
“Oh.” She grew quiet for a
moment. “Did you ever catch the person who took a shot at us?”
Again Mike spared her a tolerant glance. “No, and do we
really want to talk about something that happened almost a month ago?”
Just as she opened her mouth to reply, his cell phone rang.
“Yeah?”
She watched his changing expression, sensing that whoever
was on the other end of the line was telling him something he didn’t want to
hear. He didn’t say much, making a few sounds that indicated he understood
before finally responding, “I’m five minutes away; I’ll be right there.”
Even before he turned her way Emma figured their evening was
about to change. He pressed his foot to the gas, slightly accelerating their
speed.
“That was Mrs. Dawson; she stays with Melissa when I have to
go out nights. Melissa’s sick. We’ll swing by to check it out.”
“I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Me too, Melissa’s never sick.”
He offered her an apologetic smile.
“I hate to say it but there’s a good possibility tonight’s
off. Maybe I should drive you home first.”
“Nonsense. We’re closer to your home than mine. Besides, if
she’s sick there might be something I can do to help.”
“Thanks. If I know Mrs. Dawson, she’ll want to take off as
soon as I get there. She’s a sweet old lady but a hypochondriac—wears a surgical
mask out in public and everything.”
Chapter 19
Before long, Mike pulled off onto a driveway marked
private
.
The dark winding road was nothing more than a strip of gravel with a ribbon of
low-cut grass running down the center of it. Green pines and maples blanketed
in leaves the color of autumn, and white birch trees stood tall on either side
like guardians in the night. Only the maple and birch were losing their leaves
in preparation for winter.
An outside light gave Emma a good view of the rustic log
cabin that was Mike’s home, which was located in a small clearing at the end of
his driveway. Light coming from a large picture window revealed several chairs
and a swing on the front porch that went from one corner of the house to the other.
No sooner had they pulled alongside the ancient station
wagon parked in front than the screen door opened and a woman appeared in the
threshold, wearing a worried expression on her cracked face. She was wringing
her hands and looked like she was ready to bolt. Emma guessed her age to be
somewhere close to sixty. Her short, plump stature and outdated floral dress
were something straight out of the fifties, causing Emma to smile.
Mrs. Dawson waited patiently for them to exit the truck and
stride closer to the porch before addressing Mike. “I’m sorry to ruin your evening
but Melissa’s definitely not feeling well. It might be the flu or something. I
think I should go.”
“Did she say what’s wrong? Does she have a fever?” He
frowned, taking the porch steps two at a time.
“No, no fever. She’s complaining that her stomach hurts and
she has a headache.” She stepped aside so he and Emma could enter. “It started
right after you left. She begged me not to call you but if she has something
contagious…”
“Mrs. Dawson, this is Emma Stuart,” Mike continued, walking
toward the stairs. “I’ll be right down.”
All of a sudden Emma found herself alone with Mrs. Dawson,
who turned for something hanging on a peg on the wall next to the stairs. There
was no denying she was eager to leave. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dawson.” Emma
placed her evening clutch on the small table next to the door.
“Same here, dearie. It’s been a long time since Mike has
brought anyone nice home with him. The last time it was some redhead, please
excuse my description, floozy type who dressed like a, well you know,” she
whispered the last part, “lady of the evening.” She quickly slipped into her
heavy wool coat.
Emma bit her bottom lip to keep it from curving upwards. The
last thing she wanted was to insult Mrs. Dawson by laughing at her description
of Mike’s date when she sounded so serious about it.
“I’m sure what ails Melissa is nothing serious but a woman
my age can’t be too careful you know, what with the cost of health care these
days.” She reached for a large black purse the size of a small suitcase. “Mike
will understand that I can’t stay after this; please tell him to call and let
me know how Melissa is.” She headed for the door without a backward glance.
“The poor dear.”
Before Emma knew it, she was left standing at the door, watching
Mrs. Dawson’s one taillight as she drove slowly away. Closing the door against
the chill, she turned in time to see Mike calmly walking down the stairs. He
didn’t seem surprised to find her alone.
“I take it Mrs. Dawson couldn’t wait to fly out of here?”
His hands made short work at pulling off his jacket and laying it over the
banister.
Emma’s nod confirmed it. “How’s Melissa?”
The look on his face gave his frustration away. “She says
the same thing Mrs. Dawson said, that she has a bellyache but hasn’t been sick
or anything.” He absentmindedly began tugging at his tie.
Emma stepped forward when he finally reached the bottom of
the stairs, reaching for it. Their eyes met briefly as she began to work the
knot loose.
“What’s wrong, Mike? You don’t seem convinced of that.” She
slowly pulled the tie from around his neck. He took it from her, surprising her
by draping it around her neck and jerking her close.
“I’m not sure. She acted kind of strange, distant, for lack
of a better word. Reluctant to discuss it other than to say she’d be okay and
for me not to worry. I left her curled up in a little ball watching TV.”
“A stomachache, huh?” Something clicked in Emma’s mind.
Melissa was at that age where she could be experiencing her first time, which
she knew, could be a very unpleasant and frightening experience. Especially for
a young girl who didn’t have someone around to talk to about it. She leaned
forward, kissing Mike on the chin before realizing what she was doing. “Would
you like me to go up and see her?”
He seemed immediately relieved. “Would you mind? I have a
feeling…” He glanced away nervously.