Frankie's Back in Town (19 page)

There was nothing but desire.

And a chance.

Her hands fluttered around his shoulders for the barest instant, still hesitating before committing to the course, still pausing before she chose to go over the edge with this man, down a steep slope where she couldn’t see bottom.

She’d gotten so out of balance that it was affecting every part of her life. But life was meant to be lived, a tiny voice inside reminded her. Wasn’t that what she taught her daughter?

And hadn’t that been the problem with her marriage all along?

So much wasted time.

Too much.

Francesca touched Jack then. A tentative touch at first, her fingers following the hollow of his neck, the warm contours of his skin. She felt the steady thrum of his pulse at the base of his throat, the hard curve of his shoulders beneath silky fabric, then the familiar shape of those strong, strong arms.

Arms so at ease with embracing, protecting, arousing…When had her robe slipped open? Francesca gasped aloud as her few working brain cells registered that only his shirt was keeping skin from touching skin.

Jack chuckled against her lips, a warm burst that felt somehow like a caress.

“This is even better than I imagined.” His voice was throaty and low, a sound that filtered through the late-night quiet with the effect of a caress.

“Mmm-hmm” was all she could manage, and even that sounded breathless.

“I’ve imagined kissing you a lot.” His gaze smoldered with the truth of his words, with pleasure. “Should never kiss the suspects. Law Enforcement 101. Now I see why.”

“Why?”

“Too hard to keep a clear head. I’d have scratched you off the suspect list without investigating.”

“Because you knew I wasn’t guilty.”

“I don’t think it would have mattered.”

She laughed then. She felt so comfortable with him. Once upon a time, she’d thought herself immune to Jack’s charm, but that was before this moment when she lay in his arms on a comfy bed in a quiet bedroom.

No investigation. No ethical issues.

No distractions.

He was dressed, but she was not. Not appropriately, anyway. The tie around her waist had loosed, leaving her robe perilously askew and too much of her exposed with her skin all freshly showered and lotioned.

“I promised I’d behave.” Running a fingertip along her temple, he tucked wet hair behind her ear. “I should go.”

She knew what he was doing—giving her a chance to retreat, to think beyond the passion of the moment, to reevaluate.

A charming gentleman, she decided.

The rational part of Francesca’s mind, the responsible part, the sane part, knew what she should do.

Tell him, “Sweet dreams,” and send him on his way.

But the wild side, the wanting side, the side that was so incredibly tired of resisting argued that no charming rogue would ever come all this way, risk his career and reputation for her help to solve his case.

He didn’t rush her, and the simple fact that he recognized a decision needed to be made reassured her. He didn’t simply follow his impulse and plunge into a situation, which is what had always gotten her into trouble in the past. She’d had to learn to pause, take a deep breath and recognize the choices and consequences before rushing headlong into the moment.

A charming gentleman, definitely. Had there ever been a question?

So now it was up to her to decide whether he would get up from this bed or kiss her again.

She wanted to be kissed again.

So much.

A chance.

That’s what she wanted, too.

“Do you have a place to stay?” she asked.

He smiled, a little sheepishly, and the expression enthralled her completely. “I meant to book a room. Really.”

Tilting her head, she glanced at the display on the digital clock. “Nearly three in the morning. It would be a shame to pay for a whole night when it’s almost check-out time.”

He dragged his thumb along her lower lip, a glancing stroke that only emphasized their closeness. “It’s so late they might not even have any rooms left.”

“That’s true.” She pressed her lips to his thumb in a kiss of sorts, unable to resist the lure of the moment or the desire in his gaze.

“I want to make love to you, Francesca.”

He held her gaze levelly, those dark eyes so honest in their need.

There were so many rational reasons to hand him a pillow and blanket and send him on his way.

But there was one reason that wasn’t rational at all, but it was the most important argument of all.

She didn’t want to waste more time.

Tonight was hers alone. They were in Chicago with no worries about the example she set for her daughter. No worries about who might notice they were spending the night together. She didn’t have to let worries about tomorrow spoil the special moments she could live tonight.

She’d wasted so much time already.

Lifting her hand to his face, Francesca mimicked his touch, caressed his lower lip, amazed by how much one simple touch made her yearn.

“Yes.” She breathed the word, another caress, excitement overtaking her when he smiled that classic Jack smile.

For her.

Then there was only this moment, no thoughts of the past, no concerns about the future. Not when Jack’s expression mirrored her excitement.

“Francesca.” Her name tumbled from his lips in a throaty growl, a sound that left no room for doubt about how pleased he was with her response.

Hooking his leg beneath hers, he flipped over her in a startling and athletic move. He supported his weight on his hands and gazed down into her face.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

And Francesca remembered what it felt like to be appreciated by the man who mattered.

Arching her back, she rose to press her mouth against an inviting kiss.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t stop running,” he whispered against her lips.

“I was a suspect.”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t even acknowledge what was between us.” That dark gaze smoldered with intensity, and she knew he wasn’t going to let her off the hook easily.

“No. I didn’t want to read anything more into the situation. It was too complicated.”

“And now?”

She couldn’t stop the descent of her hands, feeling the solid strength of his back narrowing into his waist. The strength of a man who knew what he wanted, and intended to be honest about it.

He wanted
her.

And she needed to be equally honest. “A chance, Jack. We have tonight—or what’s left of it. I don’t want to miss this time with you.”

“So I’m your one-night stand?”

“Not if you’re any good.”

His laughter echoed between them. Curling his fingers around her neck, he dragged her close, until his mouth brushed hers in a sexy kiss that stoked the fire simmering deep inside.

“I guess I should appreciate you giving me a chance here.”

Now it was her turn to laugh. “I’m not worried about tomorrow. I’m willing to take one day at a time.” She swept her hands along his back, wanting to pull him close, resisting. “I just don’t want to miss any more time.”

Her reply seemed to give him whatever he was looking for because he stroked damp hair from her cheek and smiled down at her. “I better be good then, so I get invited back.”

“Jack—” she burst out, but he captured her laughter as his mouth came down on hers again hard, demanding, a kiss that ended any discussion about what might happen next.

Their breaths collided with the promise of the moment, an exchange of breaths that let them drink in each other. All thoughts quieted beneath growing sensation. Spearing his fingers into her hair, he arched her neck to bring her more deeply into their kiss. Their tongues tangled, and they drank in the taste of each other, the growing need to get closer, ever closer, to stop the separation of where she ended and he began, to melt together as one.

Francesca was swept away by the demand of that kiss, by the feel of his hard body surrounding hers when he dropped down onto one elbow, his weight pressing into her. She could feel the length of his hard thighs against hers, the maleness that proved he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

She ran her hands along his body with an urgent freedom, explored the feel of each curve and hollow beneath his shirt. She welcomed the anticipation of knowing that beneath the silky fabric was a flesh-and-blood man who wanted her.

And he wanted her.

No question.

He wasn’t nearly as patient as she, and Francesca sighed
aloud when he broke their kiss, rolling to his side and bringing her along with him. With his hands firmly on her waist and her bottom, he pulled her on top of him.

Where he could slide his hands beneath her robe.

The shock of his touch on her bare skin dragged a gasp from her lips. He wasn’t remotely deterred and helped himself to a thorough exploration of her every curve.

He ignited sparks in the wake of his touch, trailing fingertips down her spine, along the sensitive sides of her breasts, over her hips, between her thighs.

She breathed his breaths, trailed her mouth along his jaw and against his throat, tasted the throbbing beat of his pulse, nibbled the warm hollow of his neck.

His hands picked up the pace, teasing her until she thought she’d go crazy, especially when her own exploration was hindered by his clothes, their position….

Cupping her bare bottom, he pressed her impossibly closer. His male hardness swelled against her belly and brought a groan to his lips. She arched her hips and ground against him again, a slow silken glide designed to win a response.

A tremor ran the length of Jack’s body, and his grip tightened, holding her immobile for a breathless instant.

Then she fought fire with fire.

Scooting away, Francesca began an assault of her own. With a few no-nonsense motions, she unbuckled his belt and whipped it through the hoops.

He chuckled softly as she dropped it over the side of the bed where it landed with a soft thump on the carpet.

“You’re not a neat nut, are you?” she asked, casting a sidelong glance over the bed.

“Not when there’s a dry-cleaning service available.”

She laughed.

Neither of them were children, so there was no room for
self-consciousness, no room for doubts, only the promise of the moment and the excitement of discovery. Francesca liked how comfortable she felt with him, feeling nothing but appreciated as she rose before him, completely naked when her robe slithered away to join his belt.

How could she care when he knelt before her, a proud display of absolutely gorgeous male, revealed by each vanishing piece of clothing?

She made the most of each tantalizing second it took to unbutton his shirt. He helped by unfastening the shirtsleeves, so she was free to slide the shirt down his arms, to press her mouth along his shoulder and blow warm breaths that heated the cotton of his undershirt.

He shuddered beneath her touch then gasped aloud as she slid her hands beneath his undershirt and dragged her palms over his warm skin.

“Oh, my, Jack.” Each word escaped on a breath as she explored the defined lines of a very fit man.

Excitement overwhelmed her, and she suddenly didn’t know what part of him she wanted to unwrap next.

Jack didn’t give her a chance to decide, because his arms were suddenly around her, pulling her so close they were thigh to thigh and her breasts crushed against him.

His mouth was on hers again, kissing her while he murmured her name, a potent combination of abandon and control that literally stole her breath.

She couldn’t stop from touching him, from raking her palms along his strong back, savoring the feel of his warm supple skin, the hardness cradled against her stomach, the wild excitement that spurred her to greater boldness.

Almost without conscious thought, she unfastened his pants and pushed them over his hips.

Not
a boxer man.

Some crazy part of her let out a relieved sigh, and she
ran her hands over him, loving the feel of his tight butt in soft cotton, couldn’t swallow back a laugh at her own expense.

Who got so aroused by tighty whities?

Francesca should have seen it coming. In one instant he was kissing her then the next his entire body grew taut. With a low growl, he tackled her, his weight pressing her backward into the pillows before she had a chance to resist. She went down in a boneless heap beneath him, and almost before she registered what was happening, he’d clamped his strong hands on her knees and slid her down the bed with a bold move.

Their gazes locked for one surprised instant as she realized exactly what he was about before he disappeared between her thighs with a smile on his face.

Oh. My.

That was the last semicoherent thought Francesca had before she was burying her face into the pillow to keep from crying out.

Oh. My. Oh, my. Oh, my, oh, my, oh, my.

Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she hung on for the ride. And when she went over the edge, she went hard. She gasped out loud as her entire body collapsed in pleasure.

The echoes of pleasure eventually faded, and she found Jack watching her, his hair tousled, his expression very pleased.

“I’m sensing it’s been a while for you,” he said.

She sighed, such a boneless move she earned a laugh. That irked her pride, so she made another attempt. “It’s been so long, I can’t remember if I’ve ever felt this way before. I would remember, wouldn’t I?”

“You would.”

He traced circles inside her thighs, so teasingly close to her most private places that she quivered beneath his touch.

“There’s another one in there.” Not a question.

“Not possible.”

His grin flashed. “Trust me.”

Oh, she did. She was in good hands with Jack Sloan. No question. And from the recesses of her passion-soaked brain, she remembered reading that unlike men, women hit their primes later in life. Did mid-thirties count as later?

She thought it might.

Then Jack brushed a sensitive place between her legs with his thumbs. She let out a gasp as her whole body quivered.