She's Got the Look (10 page)

When that fantasy had been snatched from him, Nick had done what a lot of messed-up guys did: he'd joined the military, figuring he could work out his anger by kicking some enemy ass. His life had seemed over and he hadn't cared whether he got hurt or not. Maybe that was why he'd thrived on the dangerous missions. Why he'd volunteered for the riskiest assignments.

Or maybe he'd just been a dumb, reckless punk.

Whatever the case, he seldom thought about it and didn't like talking about his time in the marines. He especially didn't like talking about the media coverage he'd gotten because of that photograph. Any other guy in his unit would have done exactly what he did, and some of them
had.
He'd just been the one the photographer had focused in on.

“Well?” she prompted. “Were you?”

“It wasn't Bosnia, it was Kosovo. And I was only doing my job,” was all he said. “Now, back to your list. Are you denying that number one was the marine on the cover of
Time
magazine?”

Thankfully, she let him get away with his evasion. “That doesn't mean it was you. You're not the only hero to ever be on the cover of a magazine, you know. Maybe I meant someone else.”

Grinning, he shook his head. “Sorry. The list was dated. Plus Rosemary flat-out told me her best pal Melody had the hots for me once she found out who I was. Of course, you shouldn't blame her…as I recall, it was after one of her parties, and Rosemary'd been hitting the champagne pretty hard.”

“I'd like to hit her with champagne. A whole magnum of it.”

He gave her his sternest cop look. “Assault with a deadly.”

“Are champagne bottles deadly?”

“If they're swung upside somebody's head, I'd say yeah.” Then he grinned ruefully. “Or if it's the cheap stuff like I drank at my high-school homecoming dance.”

She wasn't charmed. “I don't really want to kill her…though if she doesn't stop avoiding my calls, I might change my mind.” Nibbling her lip, she said, “But I can't believe she set me up like that. I mean, set
us
up. It's really ridiculous.”

“The setup?”

“The list.”

He stepped closer, until his pants brushed against her bare calf. “Sex is a lot of things, but ridiculous isn't one of them.”

She frowned. “Stop flirting with me.”

“Not flirting, ma'am. Just stating a fact.” Crossing his arms, he added, “And the fact is, you wanted me.”

Eyes narrowing, she snapped, “I wanted a fantasy guy.” She raked a look over him, an assessing one. But she couldn't quite manage disdain when she added, “Not
you.
”

He could only grin, liking how she sassed him, how she didn't give any ground. “You really want to go about it this way?”

“What way?”

“With these denials? We can play it that way if you want, but frankly, I like your list idea better.”

Her jaw dropped. “You really think we should go ahead and sleep together right now?”

No, he
really
didn't. He wasn't a big fan of one-night—or one-morning—stands. He'd been down the easy-sex road a time or two and figured
nothing
was without strings, not even no-strings sex.

But this woman sure made it seem tempting. She also made him want to see how far she'd go, to try to get an idea of what kind of a person she was. Reckless, daring and oversexed like her friend, Rosemary? Or something else. “It was
your
idea.”

“A bad one.”

“I don't know, some folks'd say it's pretty smart. Avoids a lot of questions and wondering that go along with the dating process.”

One of her brows arched up. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Shaking his head, he replied, “I don't date.”

“Ever?”

“Not anytime recently,” he muttered. “Let's just say most of the women I meet aren't as up-front about what they want as you are, and I haven't had enough time or interest to figure it out.”

Until now.

He'd meant to maintain the teasing tone, to keep things light and playful. But even he couldn't deny the hint of intensity in his voice. Not many people knew about his once-burned, twice-shy attitude toward relationships and he preferred to keep it that way.

“You know,” he said, suddenly remembering something, “if you think about it, I suppose we already had a date. Considering I bought you breakfast and all.”

She lifted a hand to her mouth and whispered softly, “Oh.”

“Yeah. You ran off without paying. You're lucky you didn't spend your afternoon washing dishes.” Crossing his arms, he added, “Or that nobody called the cops.”

Casting a quick look over his clothing, she muttered, “You sure weren't dressed like a cop yesterday.”

He supposed today's khaki-colored pants and golf shirt were a bit of an improvement in her eyes. Not exactly the dress code, but the lieutenant had been relaxing that a little bit. Because nobody wanted to wear a damn dress shirt and tie on a ninety-degree day. “Yesterday I was going to talk to an informant in a part of town where I want to blend in, not stand out.”

She opened her purse. “I'll pay you back for breakfast.”

“No, you won't. But tell me one thing. What happens next?”

“You're serious about this?”

He nodded, very serious about this. He wanted to know what she thought, what she wanted. Whether she'd
really
go through with it. And how he'd feel about it. Because there was no doubt he was feeling something for this woman he'd just met.

Damn, he should be running in the other direction. Not stepping even closer to the danger she represented. For some strange reason, though, he couldn't walk away. Probably because of that danger-loving side of him he'd never fully subdued. She was
definitely
the dangerous kind. The unforgettable kind.

“So let me get this straight,” she said, tapping the tip of her finger against her cheek. “You don't date, you don't want to get to know me, you just want to go somewhere, get a room and have wild, hot, monkey sex all afternoon?”

He couldn't contain a grin. “Uh, wild, hot, monkey sex?”

Her cheeks pinkened.

“I'm working this morning,” he said before she had a chance to recant. Then he stepped closer, until one of his feet was almost between her sandal-clad ones.

Lifting a hand to her cheek, he brushed back a strand of hair that had loosened from her ponytail, unable to resist fingering its silkiness. He heard the hoarseness in his own voice as he said, “Besides, wild, hot, incredible sex is better late at night when the air smells ripe and fragrant and wraps you in its coolness after a steamy summer day. When it's so quiet you can hear every sigh or deep breath and the moon is bright enough to create shadows and pools of light on the bed. And whoever's on it.” He breathed in deeply then added, “No distractions. No interference. Nothing but long hours of indulgence.”

Even as he said the words, he wondered who had taken over his vocal cords. Even if he'd thought such things, Nick had never said anything like them to a woman before. And certainly not one he barely knew.

She said nothing for a moment while she thought it over. He knew she was reacting, though…he could see the way her lips parted a little, and she licked at them. Plus a sudden flush of color rose from her collarbone all the way up her face.

Her voice husky, she said, “You sound like you know what you're talking about.”

He did. Not because of his own experiences—there hadn't been a lot of those lately. He hadn't been kidding her about the no-dating thing, since he'd been working crazy hours lately. Plus, the last woman he'd even considered taking up with—the reporter who'd been doing a story on Rosemary—had been a psycho bitch just this side of needing to be Baker Acted. So there hadn't been anything resembling romance
or
sex in his life for a good six months now.

But he had fantasies. Had long sleepless nights wondering why he felt so…
hungry.
“Maybe I do.”

She tugged her bottom lip into her mouth and her eyes widened the tiniest bit, as if she were thinking things over. Wondering if she should really go for it.

Part of him—the part below his belt that was already impatient and restless—was dying for her to say she would.

Another part—his brain, which was much more cynical when it came to women and their desires—was hoping she wouldn't. Because hopping into bed with him now would mean he was just a body. A quick means to an end, a name to scratch off. Damned if he wanted to be that. For her or anybody.

But Lord Almighty, this woman did tempt him.

Whatever happened next would be determined by who Melody Tanner really was. A lonely female who'd take a joke sex list and turn it into a one-night stand with a practical stranger? Or a funny, vulnerable woman who might actually make him want to change his opinion on dating. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

After what seemed like forever, she cleared her throat. “About what to say,” she said. “And now I know.”

He waited.

“You, Nick Walker,” she added, leaning forward until their noses were inches apart, “are definitely
off
my list.”

Without another word, the woman who'd once named him as her number-one sexual fantasy spun on her heel and walked away. Leaving him standing there on the sidewalk, ready to throw his head back, look up at the blue sky and shout hallelujah.

No, his crotch wasn't doing a happy dance. But the rest of him was. She didn't want only a
body.
Which meant maybe she wanted a
man.

She hadn't seen the last of him, that was for sure. And no way was he going to let her scratch him off her list forever…though, just for now was okay.

As long as it was
just
for now.

 

“W
HAT DO YOU MEAN
you're not coming to my party? You
have
to come, you're the guest of honor!”

Melody pulled the phone away from her ear as Rosemary screeched. She'd expected the reaction. But…tough. Not going to Rosemary's party was minor punishment, considering Melody had spent much of yesterday and today thinking of ways to kill her best friend.

Mel still hadn't forgiven Rosemary for the farce at the diner the previous morning. In fact, as time had passed and Rosemary had ignored all of her calls, Melody had gotten more and more angry. By the time she'd locked up her studio downstairs—which had been woefully empty again today except for a visit from the UPS guy—she'd been dying for a big glass of Pinot Grigio and a hot bubble bath. And revenge.

She'd started on her second glass of wine and her third hour of whine—and had been buried up to her neck in steamy water and bubbles—when she'd figured out the perfect way to get Rosemary to answer her damn phone. Hopping out of the lovely old claw-foot tub, she'd dripped her way across the aged oak floor all the way to her bedroom. Grabbing the cordless phone off her bed, she'd brought it back with her to the bathroom and stepped back into the tub. This latest time when the answering machine had picked up, she'd said, “You might as well cancel Saturday night's party. I'm not coming.”

That'd gotten a response. Rosemary had picked up before Mel had finished speaking. “No more nonsense, now. You know how much you've been looking forward to it. Tanya rearranged her flight schedule to be there, and Paige is bringing the corpse.”

Rosemary wasn't overly fond of Paige's engineer husband.

“So you
are
coming,” she continued.

When Rosemary finally took a breath, Mel said, “Oh, so you
are
there? You
have
been avoiding my calls?”

“I was out,” Rosemary said, the lie so smooth that if Mel didn't know her better, she'd have believed it.

“Since yesterday morning?” Melody asked, her tone dry. Without waiting for an answer, she asked, “How could you do it to me? How could you set me up like that?”

Her friend didn't apologize. “How could
you
not obey the rules of the list and go for it when you had the chance?”

Immediately on the defensive, Melody cleared her throat. “The list was a joke, Rosemary, remember? Besides, it didn't say I
had
to do the nasty with one of the men if I ever met him, it just said I could—without feeling guilty about it.”

“Same difference.”

Maybe for Rosemary. Not for Melody.

Taking a sip of her wine and sinking deeper into the bubbles, Mel sighed. “So why did you do it? I was absolutely humiliated.” Then, remembering the depth of Rosemary's betrayal, she shot right back up, sloshing water onto the floor. “And furthermore, what business do you have telling people about my sex list?”

“Are you telling me that now, having met him, you don't think Nick Walker is just as sexy and hot as you did six years ago?”

“Answer the question.”

Rosemary sighed heavily. “Oh, all right. I tricked you into meeting him because I didn't think you'd go if I told you the truth. In spite of how badly you need some cock, I know you think you're not ready to have sex with somebody else.”

That startled a laugh out of her, then another sigh. Because the second part of Rosemary's accusation was probably true. Mel was nowhere near ready to have any relationship—even an uncomplicated one-night stand—with a man. The thought of getting naked in front of someone made her fear she'd break out in hives.

Aside from Bill, the only man who'd seen her naked in the past six years was a creepy workman who'd spied on her through a skylight at their old house in Atlanta. Typical of her inconsiderate ex, he'd arranged for some roof repairs and hadn't told her. She'd put on quite a show for the roofer while taking a bath. Thankfully, there had been lots of bubbles blocking most of his view—at least,
after
she'd gotten into the water.