Like No One Else (12 page)

“Yeah?” Paulo murmured, transfixed by the radiance of her smile, the passion in her voice as she warmed to her subject.

“It's funny,” she continued, toying with her salad. “I used to think my sister was crazy for wanting to become a professor, but now I understand what she means when she talks about feeling a sense of accomplishment at the end of the day. When I watch my students overcome their doubts and fears to become good dancers, I feel like I've actually made a difference in their lives. It's an incredible feeling. Powerful.” She paused, laughing self-consciously. “Listen to me. I must sound so corny to you.”

“Not at all,” Paulo said with a quiet smile. “I think you sound like someone who's been lucky enough to find her calling in life. Not everyone can say that.”

She beamed at him. “I never thought I'd enjoy teaching as much as I enjoyed performing, but I'm definitely getting there.”

“Good. Makes life a helluva lot easier if you love what you do for a living.”

“I'll drink to that,” Tommie said heartily, raising her wineglass in a toast.

They clinked glasses, their gazes lingering on each other as they sipped the smooth, rich wine.

“So, what about you, Paulo?” Tommie murmured after a moment.

“What about me?” he asked, staring at her plush, dewy lips, knowing they'd feel like heaven beneath his.

“Do you think you've found your calling in law enforcement?”

He smiled grimly. “If I haven't, it's too damned late to do anything about it now.”

“That's not true. People your age change careers all the time.”

“You calling me old?”

Tommie grinned impishly. “That's payback for telling me yesterday I had a lot of growing up to do.”

Paulo chuckled. “You
do
hold grudges, don't you?”

She poked her tongue out at him and he laughed, shaking his head. “And you wonder why I said what I did.”

Tommie smiled, idly tracing the rim of her glass with one manicured fingertip. “Just out of curiosity, how old
are
you?”

“Thirty-nine.”

“God, you
are
ancient,” she teased.

“Keep it up, little girl, and I'll be forced to take you across my knee and spank you.”

Her lips curved in a slow, naughty grin. “Promises, promises.”

Paulo stared at her for a moment, then shook his head with a low, rough chuckle. “Don't tempt me.”

“But it's so much fun,” she purred, and damned if his heart didn't knock against his rib cage.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing his glass and gulping down wine as Tommie laughed, enjoying his reaction.

Setting down his glass, Paulo murmured, “You're a very dangerous woman, Tomasina Purnell.”

“
I'm
not the one carrying a gun,” she countered smilingly. “And I thought I told you not to call me Tomasina.”

He chuckled. “You also told me never to darken your doorstep again. Yet here I am.”

“Now that you mention it, what
are
you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.” The words were out before Paulo could stop them.

Tommie looked as surprised as he felt, her dark eyes widening and her lips parting soundlessly. She clearly hadn't expected him to be so candid. Amused, Paulo watched as her sooty lashes lowered and she became absorbed in her meal.

He reached for his own fork, silently counting to ten.

On cue, Tommie said in a carefully measured voice, “I'd be lying if I said I'm not attracted to you, that I haven't wondered what it would be like to make love with you—”

“Incredible.”

Her eyes snapped to his face. “What?”

“Our lovemaking. It would be incredible. Like nothing you or I have ever experienced before. Absolutely mind-blowing.” He forked up a bite of lasagna. “But please. Continue what you were saying.”

Tommie just stared at him. She looked dazed, as if she'd lost her train of thought.

Smothering a grin, Paulo helpfully supplied, “You were about to tell me that no matter how attracted we are to each other, you can't get involved with me. You don't have room in your life for a relationship, and besides, I'm the wrong guy for you.” He paused expectantly. “Isn't that what you were about to say?”

“Well, yeah,” Tommie muttered, sounding annoyed that he'd beaten her to the punch. “I didn't realize you were a mind reader.”

“I don't have to be psychic to know what you were thinking.”

“I see.” She hesitated. “So you understand where I'm coming from?”

“Of course. You're a beautiful woman who's smart enough to know what is—and isn't—good for you. I commend you for that.”

She nodded slowly, searching his face. “And you agree that you're, um, totally wrong for me?”

“Absolutely,” Paulo said without hesitation. “Believe me, the best thing you could ever do for yourself is to stay the hell away from me.”

Tommie bit her bottom lip, looking intrigued in spite of herself. “Come on. You can't be
that
bad.”

Inwardly Paulo grinned. If there was one thing he'd learned about Tommie Purnell, it was that she loved a challenge. The more she was told she couldn't have something, the more she wanted it. And she didn't like having to take no for an answer. Which was why Paulo had to save her from herself.

Or, rather, from
him
.

“Don't worry,” he told her with a lazy smile. “As much as it goes against the grain, I won't try to seduce you. I'm going to be a perfect gentleman—even if it kills me.”

Tommie stared at him, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “So you're not going to try to get me into bed?”

“Not even if you begged.”

She snorted. “As if
that
would ever happen.”

“Maybe not. But if it did—”

“It wouldn't.”

A slow, knowing grin spread across Paulo's face. “Never say never.”

Tommie lifted her chin, defiance glittering in her eyes. “I've never begged any man for anything, least of all sex. Trust me, I'm not about to start now.”

As their gazes held, Paulo couldn't help feeling that a challenge had been issued, the proverbial gauntlet thrown down between them. It certainly wasn't what he'd intended, and God knows he had better things to do with his time, but the idea of putting Tommie's assertion to the test intrigued him. It appealed to his wicked nature, the dominant male in him that enjoyed the thrill of the chase, enjoyed seducing beautiful, unattainable women and coming out the conqueror. And he knew that conquering Tommie Purnell would be the ultimate thrill, like capturing the Holy Grail.

Breaking eye contact with Paulo, Tommie glanced at his empty plate and asked, “Would you like more lasagna?”

“Actually,” Paulo said, his mouth curving in a slow, predatory smile, “I'm ready for dessert.”

After dinner, Paulo helped Tommie clear the table and load the dishwasher. As they worked alongside each other, she told him, “By the way, you never did answer my question.”

“Which one?”

“I asked you whether you'd found your calling in law enforcement.”

“I wouldn't say that,” Paulo muttered.

Tommie glanced up from pouring liquid soap into the dishwasher dispenser, one brow arched. “Why not? You don't like being a cop?”

He grimaced. “I don't know if
like
is the word I'd use. I don't like having to inform parents that their son or daughter is never coming home again. I don't like watching murderers walk because of a fucked-up criminal justice system. I don't like having to accept the reality that no matter how hard I work, some crimes will go unsolved.” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he leaned back against the counter. “I'm not saying I hate being a cop. But there's definitely a hell of a lot
not
to like about the job.”

“Yes, I see what you mean,” Tommie murmured, sobered by his words. “I'm sorry. I guess that was a silly question.”

“Not at all.” He smiled wryly. “I just wish I had a better answer for you. Something warm and fuzzy.”

She made a face. “Good thing I've never been much of a warm and fuzzy person.” She hesitated, studying him for a moment. “Any progress on finding Maribel Cruz's killer?”

“No,” Paulo said flatly.

“I've been thinking about her ever since you told me what happened. I've had classes all day, so I haven't had a chance to watch the news or look up the story on the Internet. Do you still have her photo on you?”

“Yeah. Where's my jacket?”

“In the hall closet.”

As Paulo went to retrieve the photo, Tommie wiped down the granite countertops with a dishcloth soaked in lemon disinfectant. When she'd finished, she turned off the kitchen light and headed into the living room.

Paulo joined her on the sleek red sofa. “Here,” he murmured, passing her a five-by-seven photograph.

Tommie took one look at the beautiful, smiling Hispanic woman and let out a surprised gasp. “Oh my God! I remember her!”

“Do you?”

Tommie nodded quickly. “She came backstage after my performance that night. She was really excited to meet me, told me she was a big fan of mine. Her supervisor had given her tickets to the show for her birthday. Front-row seats. I remember telling her how lucky she was to have such a thoughtful, terrific boss, and she agreed. Of course, what else could she do since he was standing right there?”

“Who?”

“Her boss.”

Paulo's gaze sharpened on Tommie's face. “Maribel Cruz's supervisor attended the performance with her?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. I thought it was a bit weird at the time, the two of them being there together, but Maribel said that he'd come in place of her friend, who'd canceled at the last minute.” Tommie shrugged dismissively. “None of my business.”

“Do you remember his name?” Paulo demanded.

Tommie frowned, sorting through her memory bank and coming up blank. “Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I'm great at remembering faces, but not names.”

“So if you saw a photo of the guy you'd recognize him?”

“I might. I recognized Maribel,” she pointed out.

Paulo glanced around the room, his gaze landing on the laptop computer Tommie had left on the breakfast counter after checking her e-mail messages that morning. “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead,” Tommie said, but Paulo was already up and striding purposefully across the living room to retrieve the laptop.

He brought it back to the sofa and sat down. Tommie scooted closer to him, peering over his shoulder as his fingers flew across the keyboard, quickly pulling up the sleek, modern Web site belonging to his family's law firm. Three clicks later, Tommie found herself staring at a photograph of a handsome, dark-haired man with Nordic-blue eyes and a politician's plastic smile. She recognized him at once.

“That's him,” she told Paulo. “That's the man who was with Maribel that night.”

“You're positive?”

“Absolutely.” She did a quick scan of the bio page, her lips pursed. “Ted Colston. The name doesn't ring a bell, but I definitely remember his face.” She chuckled dryly. “I'm not surprised that he's a lawyer. He looks like something out of Central Casting, doesn't he?”

Paulo didn't respond. He was staring intently at the computer screen, his thick black brows furrowed together, a muscle working in his jaw. Tommie could see the wheels turning.

“So what does this mean?” she prodded. “Do you think Maribel was sleeping with her boss?”

Paulo frowned. “I don't know.”

“But you suspect she was, don't you? I mean, why else would Ted Colston have agreed to accompany her to the performance if they weren't having an affair?”

“Maybe it started that evening,” Paulo muttered, thinking aloud.

“It's possible. I don't remember sensing any sexual tension between them, but then again, that was over nine months ago. It's a miracle I remembered as much as I did about that evening. When you're on the road six months out of the year, performing four or five nights a week, people and places become a blur after a while.”

“I can imagine,” Paulo said, looking at her. “Yet Maribel Cruz and Ted Colston stood out in your memory.”

Tommie shrugged. “They were both attractive. Superficial or not, attractive people are more memorable.” She paused, tipping her head thoughtfully to one side. “Haven't there been studies on that?”

Paulo chuckled dryly. “Probably,” he said, closing the laptop and gently setting it down on the suede ottoman. As he leaned back against the sofa cushions, Tommie couldn't help noticing the way the stretchy fabric of his turtleneck molded the hard, sculpted muscles of his chest and abdomen. She had a sudden urge to reach beneath the hem of his shirt and run her hands along his warm male flesh. She wondered if his chest was smooth, or covered with a dusting of soft black hair.

“So what're you going to do?” she blurted before her mind began to wander.

“About?”

“About Maribel Cruz and her boss. If they were having an affair, do you think it's possible that he killed her?”

“Anything's possible,” Paulo said grimly.

“You have to find out, one way or another.”

“I will.” And Tommie could tell by the determined glint in his dark eyes that he would.

Tucking her long legs beneath her on the sofa, she began conversationally, “When I first started working at Thorne and Associates, the attorney I reported to couldn't keep his eyes off my ass. Sometimes he'd call me into his office just so he could stare at my butt as I walked out. And he didn't even try to pretend he wasn't doing it! It got so bad that I started buying longer suit jackets just to cover my butt, especially if I was wearing something formfitting like a pencil skirt. But it didn't take him long to catch on. He started turning up the thermostat on our floor, making it so uncomfortable that I'd either have to remove my jacket or go home drenched in sweat every day.”

Paulo shook his head in disgust. “Asshole.”

Tommie gave a short, humorless laugh. “Tell me about it. And he didn't limit his offensive behavior to just leering at me. He was always complimenting the way I looked and making suggestive comments. After two months of putting up with his crap, I'd had more than enough. But I didn't want him to get just a slap on the wrist. I wanted him gone. So instead of filing a complaint with human resources, I went straight to the top of the food chain.”

Paulo arched a surprised brow. “You went to Crandall Thorne?”

“Damn straight. See, Mr. Thorne wasn't your typical CEO. He was very hands-on, involved in the hiring and firing of every employee at his firm. Of course, now that he's remarried and semiretired, I don't know if he's still that active in the business. But he definitely was when I worked there.”

“So what'd you tell him?”

“I told him the truth, that I was being sexually harassed by one of his senior attorneys and if he didn't do something about it, I'd have no choice but to file a lawsuit against the firm. Mr. Thorne calmly pointed out to me that my case would be jeopardized by the fact that I hadn't gone through the proper channels for filing a sexual harassment complaint. But it didn't matter. I had proof. The day before I'd used my cell phone to secretly record my boss commenting on my breasts. I played the video for Mr. Thorne, then told him in no uncertain terms that I wouldn't stop at just suing the law firm, I'd go straight to the media with my embarrassing little recording. I think Mr. Thorne was privately impressed with me. He admired my
cojones
, and I knew how much he detested bad publicity. At the end of the meeting he asked me to give him twenty-four hours to handle the matter. When I arrived at work the next morning, Mr. Thorne called me into his office and informed me that my boss had been fired, and I'd been reassigned to another attorney. A woman, this time.” Tommie flashed a coolly triumphant smile. “I never had any more problems after that. And to this day, Mr. Thorne and I still keep in touch. He sends me holiday and birthday cards, and he and his lovely wife even flew to New York three years ago to attend one of my performances and take me out to dinner afterward.”

Incredulous, Paulo stared at her for a long moment, then threw back his head and roared with laughter. “Damn, woman! Remind me never to piss
you
off.”

Tommie grinned. “Too late. You already have.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“What'd I do?”

Tommie shrugged. “It's not any one thing in particular,” she reluctantly admitted. She shook her head at him. “You just know how to push my buttons.”

His mouth curved in a wolfish smile. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”

She laughed, recognizing the line she'd used on him earlier. “Good one.”

“I thought so.” Gazing at her, Paulo said in a low, husky voice, “You have the sexiest laugh I've ever heard. Makes me want to do all sorts of wicked things to you.”

Tommie's belly quivered, his words sending a rush of tingling heat through her body. Before she could stop herself, she felt her lips curving in a bold, sultry smile. “Well, what's stopping you?”

His gaze darkened, drifting to her mouth. “I promised to be a gentleman, remember?”

“Some promises were meant to be broken,” Tommie murmured.

The words were barely out before Paulo leaned over and crushed his mouth to hers. She lost her breath. Desire tore through her body like the sharp crack of a whip. His lips were even softer than she'd imagined, his kiss hot and demanding. Her lips opened eagerly beneath his, taking his tongue deep. He tasted incredible, like wine and something uniquely male, uniquely him. He explored the inside of her mouth with slow, sensual strokes, licking and tasting her until she moaned with pleasure. He sank one hand into her hair, the other splaying across the curve of her spine to hold her tightly to him. Tommie gasped, the feel of his hard, muscled chest against hers an electric shock to her senses. When Paulo shuddered, she knew she wasn't alone.

With a rough, guttural sound he seized her and lifted her onto his lap to straddle his strong, muscular thighs. She shivered, staring into the molten depths of his eyes, feeling the heat of his thick erection against her crotch. It ignited her blood, made her dizzy with need as her hips moved, writhing against him.

Paulo swore under his breath, his voice harsh and ragged. Cradling her face in his big hands, he kissed her hard and hungrily. She kissed him back with equal fervor, threading her fingers through the thick, silken brush of his hair. As his lips moved across her cheek and down her throat, her head fell back and her eyes drifted closed. He kissed her collarbone and suckled the beating pulse at the hollow of her throat, his hot breath whispering over skin he'd made wet with his tongue.

Tommie felt like she was drowning, drowning in sensation and a dark, savage need that threatened to consume her. She'd been kissed a thousand times, had been intimate with more men than she cared to recall. But she had never experienced anything like this before. It was pure madness. Paulo Sanchez was a rogue, a shameless womanizer. She barely knew him, didn't trust him, wasn't even sure she liked him. But she wanted him.
God
, how she wanted him.

So she didn't protest when his hands scaled her heaving rib cage and cupped her breasts. Her startled gasp turned into a breathless moan as he kneaded and caressed her through the cotton halter, making her nipples tighten until they stung.

“You like that?” he whispered huskily, watching her face.

Tommie nodded helplessly, not trusting her voice.