Guilty Cravings (The Steamy South 1) (4 page)

In her closet, she
drew a short black sequined dress from the hanger and slid it on. She hadn’t
worn this in two years, but it still fit perfectly. Stilettos and darker
evening makeup completed the outfit. Though she was in danger and might be
certifiably insane for approaching Nick, a little thrill spiraled through her.
She had never done anything this risky before.

Carrying an overnight
bag she rushed out to her car and took off. What would Nick say when she showed
up? She needed his help, but she couldn’t deny she was excited about the
prospect of seeing him again.

After driving around
Savannah for fifteen minutes to make sure no one was following her, she headed
toward Atlanta.

* * * *

“Give it up,
Rathburn. You’ve got no chance with her,” Kurt muttered loudly over the
pounding rock music and turned up his beer bottle to drain it. Kurt, the lead
singer in the rock band Nick was using for a cover, was a fairly decent guy,
but Rathburn, the guitar player, was nothing but a criminal.

Nick glanced across
Rebel’s crowded dance floor to see who Rathburn was harassing now. People moved
in and out of his line of vision. He squinted through the dimness at the female
in question.

Emily?

“What the hell?” Nick
stood, almost flipping over his chair.

“What is it, man?”

I don’t believe
this.
He strode
toward Rathburn and the woman he had cornered. A blonde who looked a hell of a
lot like Emily, but with heavier makeup and a slinky, low cut, very short
sparkly black dress. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him.

But the closer he
got, the more his stomach knotted. How had she found him? And what was she
doing here, dressed like that? He remembered her sex toys. Was she living a
double life?

“Em?” He stopped
beside Rathburn who resembled the grim reaper with his long black hair and
black clothing.

Emily’s face lit up.
“I was looking for you!”

The other man sent
him an evil-eyed glare. “Back the fuck off, Worth. I saw her first.”

“You heard her. She’s
looking for me.” Nick took her hand and tugged her away from Rathburn and
toward the bar.

Rathburn would hold a
grudge over this one, but it couldn’t be helped. Nick had never been able to
get along with the bastard anyway.

“I need to talk to
you in private,” Emily said.

“Let me buy you a
drink, sweet cheeks.”

She frowned. “I don’t
want a drink. I want—”

“Wait a sec, okay?”
he said close to her ear in a more serious tone. Dammit, didn’t she realize
she’d walked into a snake den? And now he had to protect her and try to figure
out how to get her out of here ASAP while maintaining his cover persona.
Rushing her out like he wanted would come across as suspicious behavior for
him.

“How about a
margarita?” he asked.

She nodded. Why did
she always have to appear so sweet and innocent, even with that heavy makeup?
Maybe because he was used to hanging around women who were far more jaded.

He gave the bartender
their order, scanned his surroundings, then faced her again. No one stood close
enough to hear what they said if they kept their voices down. Besides, the loud
music covered most other sounds.

He lifted Emily to a
barstool. Her eyes widened. He leaned in close and spoke into her ear so no one
would read his lips. “Don’t look so shocked. What are you doing here and how
the hell did you find me?”

He moved his head so she
could talk into his ear.

“You mentioned
Rebel’s when you spoke to someone on your phone in my living room. I looked it
up and found this place.”

“Damn.” She’d heard
him? He’d been careless.

“Some bastard broke
into my house and searched it tonight, but nothing was missing.”

“Shit.” Rage and
concern for her safety burned through him. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I tried, but you
wouldn’t answer and your voicemail box is full. Why don’t you ever clean it
out?”

He felt like kicking
himself. “I’m sorry.” When he was undercover, it was dangerous to take calls
and he’d had no time today to check his voicemail. “What happened? I want
details.”

“After the police
left, this creepy guy called and asked, ‘Where is it?’ He told me the name of
the thing he wants, but it was a foreign language. I couldn’t understand the
words. He said if I didn’t give it to him I’d regret it. But I have no idea
what he’s talking about.”

“I knew it.” So Jared’s
murderer was coming out of hiding, finally. Just the break he was waiting for.
He only wished she’d caught the name of the object the bastard was looking for.

Most of all, it
pissed him off that the asshole threatened Emily.

After retrieving
their drinks from the bartender and paying, he took a sip of beer and gave
their surroundings a quick perusal. No one appeared inordinately interested in
them, but the place had hidden cameras. The drug dealer he was investigating
owned the bar and no doubt watched everyone via the cameras, especially people
like Nick who was trying to get deeper into his organization.

“Don’t drink too much
of that unless you can hold your liquor,” he told her.

“I won’t.” That had
to mean she couldn’t. She might get drunk from two sips for all he knew. And
that would put them in a worse mess.

He pulled her close and
pretended to talk dirty in her ear. “It’s dangerous as hell for you to be here.
I need you to pretend to be my date. Follow my lead.” When she nodded, he
continued. “My name is Nick Worth. Yours is Emily Green. We went out one time
before, last week. I’m the drummer in this band called Moonstone.”

He had to get her out
of here, but the band hadn’t yet played their set and he never left with women
this early in the night. He didn’t want to deviate much from his normal MO.

“We’re supposed to go
on and play in a few minutes. All you have to do is act like a groupie.”

“What’s a groupie—oh,
you mean one of those sex-addicted girls who can’t wait to screw the whole
band.”

A shot of arousal
ricocheted through him and his cock hardened like granite. “Don’t say things
like that,” he growled. Damn, he couldn’t take being around her, especially in
those clothes. “And, by the way, could you have dressed any skimpier?”

The top of the dress
had two strips of fabric that barely covered her breasts. Her cleavage was lickable,
the sides of her perky tits showing. Her hard nipples protruded beneath the
thin fabric. The hem of the dress barely covered a few inches of her delectable
thighs. He wanted to carry her to the back room and fuck her against the wall.

“I didn’t want to…draw
suspicion.” She sipped at the margarita and licked the salt from her lips. His
gut clenched and his balls tightened. Damn, he wanted to lick her from her red
pouting lips to her ankles and back again.

“Believe me, you
won’t.” But she’d draw every straight man’s attention in this place and he
might have to fight them off. He knew how to solve that problem. “Let’s dance.”
He set her drink on the bar and lifted her off the stool. She’d had enough
alcohol anyway. More than half a margarita and she’d probably start staggering.

He had to show every
man here she was with him so there’d be no question. No bozos hitting on her
while he was on stage with the band. If he left with her now, the band couldn’t
play, which would jeopardize the cover he’d cultivated for months. They all
knew he enjoyed a variety of women, but he’d never bailed on his band mates to
leave with one. Not only would the guys think he was acting odd, so would the
nightclub owner who’d hired them to play.

Hell, he wished she
hadn’t come here tonight, but he knew she’d had no other choice.

“I don’t want to
dance,” Emily grumbled, glaring at Nick’s broad shoulders as he practically
dragged her onto the crowded dance floor. Did he have to be so sarcastic and
bossy? She stumbled, but caught against his back. Probably shouldn’t have drunk
so much of the mixed drink since she’d skipped dinner. But she was thirsty and
she loved margaritas.

To the rhythm of the
slow, rough-edged love song, Nick pulled her close into a languid dance,
sliding her arms up around his neck and then framing her waist with his strong
hands. Breathing hot against her temple, he dropped his hands an inch or two
and caressed just below the small of her back. An electrical tingle skittered
through her and she almost gasped.

The alcohol heated
her veins, making her dizzy. His strong body sliding against hers sparked
excitement and arousal.

Nick had touched her
more in the last three minutes than any man had for the past two years. She
hadn’t realized how starved for physical contact she was.

His silky hair
brushed the backs of her hands at his neck. Through the open front of his black
leather vest, her breasts, barely covered in a sequined fabric, brushed his
bare chest, hypnotizing her.

“You’re doing great,”
he murmured against her ear, only loud enough for her to hear over the blaring
music. His breath scorched her skin. “You’re right. You dressed perfectly for
this role. You look hot as hell.”

His words sent a
blast of lust and exhilaration through her. He truly thought she looked hot? What
could she say to that? “Thank you.”
How lame.

He grinned, making
her feel far more naïve than she was.

“I knew you’d think
so,” she added.

Turning more serious,
he lifted a brow.

There, she’d put him
in his place.

“You hoped I’d think
so,” he breathed into her ear. She shivered. Her nipples tingled and ached.
Flirting with Nick was a wicked indulgence and fun besides.

“I know what turns
men on,” she said, taking their play a risky step further. Could she turn him
on?

He narrowed his eyes,
then spoke into her ear again. “Well then, you also know what tells other men
you’re mine and off limits.”

His possessive words
snatched her breath. She loved the way he’d said
you’re mine
. “What are
you talking about?”

“I don’t want other
men hitting on you while I’m on stage and unable to protect you. We have to
establish that you’re with me right now.”

“How?”

“I’m going to kiss
you,” he said, glancing away.

“What?” Her heart
skidded to a halt and tingles showered her body.

“Trust me,” he said
in a neutral tone. “Try to make it convincing and don’t slap me.”

“Why would a kiss be
necessary?” She was far too attracted to Nick to kiss him without him realizing
the extent of it. She might simply eat him up. She’d only been roped into one
blind date since her divorce and the goodnight peck from that creep was
forgettable, like pressing her mouth against parchment.

If she kissed Nick,
she’d get turned on and he’d know it.

“I don’t think we
should,” she said in a rush.

“Emily, if we were
lovers, like we’re pretending to be, we’d be all over each other,” he murmured
in her ear, his voice deep and seductive. “We wouldn’t be able to wait to find
a bed or a dark corner, and everyone would know it. They’d see how hot we were
for each other.”

Yes, everyone here
might see how hot she was for him. A wave of arousal flooded Emily. Dear god,
she could scarcely breathe. She was supposed to be pretending, but this felt
far too real.

Placing a finger
beneath her chin, he turned her face toward him, but she lowered her gaze to
his neck. “Are you listening to me?” he asked.

She swallowed and
tried to act normal. “Yes, but we’re not…lovers.”
But I want to be.
No!
No, she didn’t. He was her former brother-in-law. A Sullivan. The same blood as
Jared’s ran through his veins. Both cocky, arrogant bastards. Womanizers who
couldn’t keep it in their pants.

But when she thought
of Nick’s jeans and what was in them, she ached deep inside.

“But we don’t want
anyone else to know that. Am I really that repulsive?” A hint of insecurity
lurked in his smoky-gray eyes. Maybe her acting skills weren’t that terrible if
he couldn’t detect her attraction for him.

“It’s not
that
and you know it.” He was like one of those sinfully delicious, high-calorie
desserts that women crave but swear off. “No tongues.” If she didn’t taste him,
maybe she could hide her intense hunger for him.

He shrugged.
“Whatever.”

“Well then, get it
over with.” She forced the words out before she had time to think about them.

A slow, wicked smile
formed on his lips.

Uh-oh.

Emily should’ve
closed her eyes against his sexy, playful expression. But that smile took away
his usual brusqueness and replaced it with the promise of pleasure.

He stroked warm
fingertips along her jaw line, all the while leading her in a barely-noticeable
slow dance. He moved his face closer and panic closed around her throat.
Oh
no.