An Offer He Can't Refuse (35 page)

The waitress brought their drinks quickly. That's when he learned not to order "large" when it came to margaritas at the Coyote in Palm Springs. His whiskey arrived in the requisite rocks glass. Téa's tequila and lime concoction came in something sized like a fruit bowl.

She blinked at the drink when it was first set before her, but it was testament to her ongoing case of nerves that she lifted the salt-encrusted glass with almost eagerness.

It was testament to his horniness that watching her lick the rim with her pink tongue brought his cock to full alert.

He wasn't going to feel guilty about that either.

But as he watched her frequent sips of her drink, he wondered if he shouldn't. She hadn't eaten a kernel of the popcorn he'd bought at the swap meet, or the hot dog she'd shuddered over later. Her stomach had to be empty, and so far she was filling it with a potent brew that, by the glazed look in her eye, was mostly alcohol.

Getting her drunk to get her into his bed didn't lead to blame-free mornings.

And the way she was looking at him from those smoldering sloe eyes told him the margarita was loosening her inhibitions. She'd let her blouse stay two-button open. She was showing honest-to-God cleavage and it was such plump, centerfold-quality cleavage that he felt his cock twitch in its direction.

Wearing a small smile, she continued to play with the necklace he'd bought her on a whim. The way her fingers worked over the beads made him think of her fingers working on him, and looking at her flushed face and lips reddened by the icy glass, he had the sudden urge to see how far he could push her. Would she take off her panties if he asked? He drop-kicked his conscience off the playing field and leaned across the table.

"Téa," he said, needing to touch her. Needing to feel her vibrancy beneath his hand.

As his fingers found the back of hers, her chin jerked up. "There's my mother," she told Johnny, looking over his shoulder. She waved a wild hand toward the sidewalk that was crowded with tourists gathered in knots around the celebrity plaques that studded the Palm Springs Walk of Stars. "Mom! Over here!"

Johnny snatched back his hand as Bianca skirted a bronze star on her way to greet her daughter. Her eyes widened as she took in Téa's relative state of dishevelment and her neon-beaded necklace and then her gaze dropped to the half-full, bucket-sized margarita on the table.

"You look like you're having fun," she said to Téa.

Téa beamed a smile that was a little sloppy around the edges. "Oh, I'm planning to."

Damn. She might as well be wearing a flashing sign de-daring "I'm going to be fucked later." Her mother's gaze flicked to Johnny's face and he leaned against the back of his chair, trying to look suave and sinless at the same time. Surely she couldn't read on his face the sexual dare she'd interrupted. But damn, she was giving him the uncomfortable and indisputable mother-eye.

"We've ordered dinner," he offered, to prove he wasn't just trying to get her darling daughter drunk. Then he cleared his throat and poured on the charm, because no badass Vegas gambler was going to let a mama scare him off. "Please. Join us."

"No." The word came out in stereo, as both Téa and her mother spoke at the same time. Téa blushed.

Bianca shot a knowing look at her daughter, then laughed. "No, I can't stay, thanks. I'm meeting someone down the street."

Téa tucked her hair behind her ears. "See, I knew that," she said, then ducked her head to take another deep draw from the straw in her margarita.

Her mother laughed again. "I'll leave you two alone then. It's been good seeing you."

"It's been good seeing you, too." Johnny hoped the devil's snicker sounding inside him didn't show on his face.

Téa's mother started to turn, then she hesitated, frowning. "You remind me of someone."

He stilled, newly alert. His physical resemblance to his father was remote and his coloring completely different. But might she see a similarity? It hadn't even occurred to him that she could have been acquainted with Giovanni sixteen years before. "Is that right?"

Bianca nodded her head. "Someone I've recently met."

"His brother lives in the area," Téa supplied. "Maybe you've seen him."

"Perhaps that's it," her mother said, and then with a little wave, she was gone.

Johnny downed the dregs of whiskey, chasing away the last of his tension. Over its rim, he watched Téa use her fingertip to pick up grains of coarse salt from the edge of her glass then bring them to her mouth. Oh, yeah. With her mother out of the picture it was back to the game.

"Now, where were we?" he asked softly. .

She froze, her lips around the end of her forefinger. Her gaze met his and the flickering light on the table showed the new flush washing up her face.

Though it was obvious she hadn't wanted her mother to join them, it was up to him to remind her why. Reaching out, he took her hand from her mouth, then brought it to his own. He sucked in her wet finger.

She made a little sound. "Johnny," she whispered. "Johnny, I don't think I'm hungry anymore."

He licked the end of her finger and released her hand. "I'll pay the bill."

She nodded, then drew her margarita closer to take another big gulp of the frozen drink.

Johnny closed his eyes. Damn it. Damn Téa's mother, his mother, his boring but unbreakable Main Street upbringing. All three of them were conspiring against him. "We need to eat first, Contessa. You need food."

Thank God the waitress was at that moment bearing down on them with enormous platters, an enchilada combination plate for him and a spinach-and-cheese quesadilla for Téa. They'd eat, they'd leave, they'd fuck. Since he was giving her food, his conscience had nothing to complain about.

It didn't take long for the meal to affect Téa's mood. Gone was the dizzy look in her eyes. She pushed the margarita away though it was still one-third full. The sexual flush on her face faded and she stared at her plate instead of at him.

Johnny cursed his own scruples.

"Second thoughts, Contessa?" he asked. It looked as if her earlier acquiescence was gone and that he'd be going home to an empty bed. He didn't want to think how difficult it would be to get to sleep tonight.

She looked up. "What? Uh, urn, no. Not really." An embarrassed blush bloomed on her cheeks and she clapped her palms over them. "This feels so awkward."

Second thoughts would have killed him. Awkward, he could handle. Smiling at her, he leaned forward to take one of her hands in his. "Maybe I should have gone ahead with my first inclination. I promise you wouldn't be feeling awkward right now."

She narrowed her pretty dark eyes. "What inclination was that?"

He lowered his voice. "I wanted to dare you to take off your panties during dinner."

Her fingers bit into his. "Johnny." She sounded scandalized.

Almost tempted.

"Téa," he countered. "Would you have agreed?"

Her primo ass squirmed against her seat. "Of course not."

"No one would have to know," he whispered. "Just you and me. Our little, sexy secret."

She squirmed more. "Nooo. No."

He grinned, certain that panty-less or not, she was feeling that way right now, as if she was naked beneath her skirt and that he was the only other one who knew it.

"You're evil." She frowned at him.

"I try." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Come on, Contessa, do it."

She hesitated. God, he almost had her.

"It'll be our sexy little secret," he whispered again, sliding his fingers along the smooth insides of hers and shutting his conscience away for good. Tonight he'd have her in his bed, tomorrow he'd talk his way into an introduction to her grandfather.

Biting her lip, she looked away. "Speaking of secrets," she said. "I have to be honest with you about something."

What? Honesty? Now?

Johnny sank against the back of his chair. "We don't need to talk any more tonight." His gaze darted around the courtyard, looking for the waitress so he could signal for their check.

"This is important, Johnny. It's… it's about that man who might have been following us."

He wanted to stand up and kick the table, the chair, his own butt for mentioning the man to her in the first place. His assumption had been the guy was a bodyguard type sent to watch over Téa—retired newspaperman Stan had warned him of how protective Cosimo was of his granddaughters—but apparently it was without her prior knowledge or approval.

"You need to know what you're getting into when you get involved with me, Johnny."

You need to know what you're getting into when you get involved with me
. Shit. The devil in his head and his guilty conscience were both laughing their asses off at him now.

"If this has something to do with your grandfather and your family—"

"It has everything to do with them and everything I won't do to cooperate with them."

"Huh?" Johnny had thought he already knew what she was going to say, but this wasn't it. "What do you mean?"

"I'm estranged from the Carusos, Johnny. At least from my grandfather and his… men."

"Huh?"

"My grandfather still keeps his eye on me, I've always known that, but recently he's been upping the pressure to bring me back into the fold. It's been little stuff until now—my sisters, the flowers, that invitation to espresso, but it could get worse."

She's estranged from the old man. She's estranged from the old man.

"So, if we're… together… we might find ourselves fol-lowed on occasion. Or Cosimo himself might try to make contact. I'll understand if it creeps you out. Frankly, it creeps me out."

She's estranged from the old man.

"Johnny?"

He wrenched his gaze off the tablecloth to stare into her face. "What?"

"I understand if the situation means you've changed your mind about… being social with me on a more regular basis. But so you know, I'm never going to be around him again."

The waitress slipped their bill onto the table. Johnny automatically reached for his wallet and fished out plenty of cash to cover it. He didn't check the numbers because he didn't think his brain had the focus for anything but…

She's estranged from the old man.

Suddenly, he laughed out loud. Téa looked at him as if he was crazy, and he felt a little that way too, but he continued laughing as he pulled her up from the table and walked her to his car. Oh, the irony.

Yet his mood continued to lighten on the drive to his house. As he tugged her toward the front door, Téa tugged back, her feet slowing. "Johnny, are you sure about this?"

The catch in her voice made him catch her in his arms. Oh, yeah, with Cosimo out of the picture he was really, really sure about this. There was no reason to hesitate. "Aren't you?" he whispered against her lips.

In the bedroom, he remembered he'd wanted to have candles. Téa naked in the candlelight and spread out for his hands and for his tongue. But he didn't want to trek back to the car, not when she was warm and heating up.

She made him keep the lights off.

He knew she was thinking of the mirror overhead and that made him laugh again. It turned to a groan as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and spread her fingers across his chest.

She made little noises as he made love to her. He thought she was biting back the sounds and he promised himself he'd make her really let go soon. But now he fought hard for his control too, making sure that he played her with his fingers and felt her come before letting himself inside the tight wet glove of her body.

He was going to pull out and taste her, he promised himself, just two thrusts more… just one. Now. But then she tilted her hips and her sleek inner thighs slid along the outside of his.

Without skill, without suavity, without any of the finesse he'd honed for years, he came. His rough thrusts slapped his belly against hers. He couldn't help it.

When he collapsed on top of her, she cradled his head in her palms. "I'll move in a second," he promised.

She murmured something that sounded already half-asleep.

They dozed.

Johnny came awake in a rush. There was a fragrant pillow…

Téa. He smiled to himself and gathered her close, two spoons in the cozy drawer of his bed.

"Johnny?"

"Shh. Go back to sleep."

Her arm shifted against the one he had tucked beneath her breasts. The movement must have pressed the backlight button on her watch, because the businesslike face blinked on. It was 3:12:37.

For the first time in months, he'd slept through the witching hour.