On Thin Ice (11 page)

“Devlin.” This time she gasped it. “We—I—”

She groaned as he trailed his lips to her other breast, slid his hand under her skirt, and dipped it inside her panties. His fingers slipped over her slick, warm skin, before he parted her feminine flesh and thrust a finger inside. She was paradise. Hot, wet, and waiting for him.

“I need to . . . lie down.” Another moan came, steamy and low in her throat as he caressed her. “Devlin.” Her hands gripped and released his shoulders convulsively, until he became aware of where they were and what he was doing.

He was about to take her standing up against the door. God, he was a jerk, but not that big of a jerk. He kissed her mouth and swung her up in his arms, praying the bedroom wasn’t far. A few moments later he laid her on the bed and followed her down, his aching flesh resting firmly against her burgeoning warmth. Her hands slid over his shoulders again, then fell back to the bed. Devlin buried his face in her neck, breathed in her scent, somewhere between sweet and spicy and uniquely hers. She felt soft, so soft. Boneless and willing beneath him.

Craving the taste of her, he sucked her nipple, rolled it with his tongue. She groaned and arched her back, her breast rising up to meet him. Her skin like satin against his lips, he tasted the underside of one breast as he moved to the other. She was completely relaxed, languorous, his to do with as he’d been dreaming about since he met her.

His conscience set up an annoying buzz that he tried unsuccessfully to ignore. Devlin raised his head from her breasts and looked at Gabrielle. In the indirect lighting thrown from the hallway, he could see that her eyes were closed.
Willing?
he asked himself.
Or drunk?

“Open your eyes,” he demanded, staring down at her. Her lips were swollen, rosy and inviting. Slowly her lids fluttered open. Deep green eyes, hazy, unfocused.

She hadn’t seemed that drunk in the bar. Loosened up, maybe, but not drunk. Right, his interfering alter ego argued. That’s why last night she said no and tonight she’s jumping your bones, you idiot. Perfectly reasonable.

“What made you change your mind?”

Still hazy, she gazed at him, smiling. Then she giggled.

Giggling was a bad sign. A very bad sign. He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Gabrielle, answer me. Why tonight? Why not last night?”

“D’licious.” She ran her tongue over her lips and giggled again. “Irresistible.”

Worse and worse. He groaned and rested his forehead against hers. Delicious? Irresistible? The Gabrielle he knew would never have said that. Unless she’d imbibed too much of that wine. The giggling clinched it.

Why the sudden attack of scruples?
he asked himself She was a grown woman. Even drunk, she was bound to have realized what would happen.

“Kiss me,” she demanded.

Her mouth, not to mention her body, tempted the hell out of him.

“Kiss me,” she whispered again, putting her arms around his neck.

So he kissed her, doing his best to block out everything but the feel of her beneath him, the sweet lingering taste of her flesh, of her mouth. It didn’t work. He stopped kissing her and looked at her again. Crap. She was so vulnerable, so trusting, he knew he couldn’t do it. Why did he think of Gabrielle as vulnerable? She was the Queen of Sharks. The least vulnerable woman he knew.

Was this his punishment for all of the lousy things he’d ever done in his life? The conscience he thought he didn’t have had picked a hell of a time to go active on him.

Cursing under his breath, he rolled off her and sat up. Her eyes had closed again. A faint smile curved those luscious lips. Her clothes were a disaster, half on, half off, twisted around her slim body. If he didn’t do something, she’d sleep all night like that. Devlin couldn’t fathom why that bothered him, or comprehend the urge to take care of her.

He hit pay dirt the second drawer he opened, but shut it after only a moment’s perusal. Noble intentions be damned if he put her in one of those sexy nightgowns. Instead, he scrounged up a T-shirt. The sight of her nearly nude had him questioning his sanity, but he finally got her stripped, into the shirt, and tucked into her bed. Alone.

You shouldn’t be so trusting,
he told her silently, bending to brush a kiss across her lips. Not of him. Devlin still couldn’t believe he was walking away from her.

“Nice,” she mumbled, and burrowed deeper into the covers. She opened her eyes and stared straight at him. “You’re a nice man.” Her eyes drifted shut and her breathing deepened, became regular. Dreamland.

Devlin had been called a lot of things by a lot of women, but he couldn’t remember nice ever being one of them.

The doorbell rang. Cautiously, she peered out the peephole. Great. Two men she’d give a million bucks not to see, and naturally, one of them stood on her doorstep. Maybe if she pretended she wasn’t home, he’d go away. No, that was the coward’s way out, and she’d been enough of a coward lately to last her a lifetime.

Gabrielle swung open the door, but before she could utter a sound, Devlin hauled her into his arms and planted a long, lingering, hotter-than-sin kiss on her lips. Thirty seconds into it, her legs felt like the center of a jelly donut.

“Hi, beautiful.” He drew back enough for her to catch a glimpse of laughing gray eyes before he kissed her again.

Beautiful? He made it sound sincere, even though she knew he must say it to all the women he . . . kissed. Gabrielle hung in his arms with all the backbone of a rag doll. His smile really should be outlawed, she thought, and so should the way he kissed. She found herself responding, opening her mouth, accepting his tongue, meeting it with hers. Good grief, what was she doing? Talk, don’t kiss, she ordered herself. Flustered, she wedged a hand between them and shoved against his chest. “Wait,” she managed to say.

Devlin loosened his hold, but kept his arms around her. Gabrielle caught her breath and wished his embrace didn’t feel so supportive. So good.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He walked her backward toward the couch. “We don’t have enough time for what I’d really like to do with you.”

He started to kiss her again, but she pulled away, unable to halt the flush that heated her cheeks or the erotic sensations he’d provoked with his kiss. “No, I mean, we need to talk.”

He glanced at his watch. “Can we do it on the way? I told the sergeant we’d be there by ten.”

Mystified, she blinked at him. “Be where by ten?”

“The police station. You didn’t forget we were going over the Sabatino case files, did you? The police reports.”

“This morning? On a Saturday? But I can’t—” Police reports, she thought. Her head throbbed, the pain returning full force. She couldn’t let him go alone; she had to see those reports. “I’m not ready,” she said, gesturing at her cutoffs and cropped shirt.

His gaze slid slowly down her body and back up. He might as well have used his hands instead, from the effect that long, provocative examination had on her. Her skin burned, tingled. Her stomach tightened in anticipation.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” A wickedly charming smile spread across his face. “After last night I’m not surprised.”

She hadn’t forgotten
everything
that had happened the night before. “Hold it right there,” she said, struggling to establish control. “We’ve got to talk before we go anywhere.”

He raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “All right. Got any more coffee?”

“Help yourself.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she watched him walk out of the room. Dammit, he looked as good in blue jeans as he did in a suit. Maybe better, she admitted, admiring the way the denim hugged his rear and his lean legs. How could she possibly have forgotten making love with him?

“What’s on your mind?” he asked when he came back and sat beside her on the couch.

Gabrielle stared at him, incapable of speech. What could she say? she realized.
By the way, Devlin, what exactly did happen last night? I seem to have passed out before the big moment.
Oh, right. Only if she was into self-flagellation and humiliation.

Bailing out, she said, “I can go over the police reports by myself, if you want. Free you up to pursue another avenue.” He wouldn’t go for it, she knew, but what the hell.

“It’s not a problem. Besides, you don’t have your car, remember? I’ll drop you by Alfonso’s afterward, and you can pick it up then.”

Plastering a fake smile on her face, she conceded to the inevitable. “Let me change and we’ll go.”

“Is there something else you wanted to talk to me about?”

An innocent question. Gabrielle stopped at the hall doorway and looked at him. Why did she get the feeling he’d asked that question with a purpose in mind? His bland expression gave nothing away. “No, nothing,” she said. “I won’t be long.”

A short while later at the police station, Gabrielle tried to keep her mind on the business at hand, but with Devlin sitting across from her it was impossible. He didn’t talk, he simply read the reports, thoroughly, like any competent lawyer. But his mere presence, especially given what had happened the night before, distracted her until she could have screamed with frustration.

That might have been why she almost missed it. It should have shouted to her, even buried as it was in the back of several other records and files concerning the arrest. It was a hole big enough to drop the state of Texas into, a glaring error in the chain of custody of the evidence that practically guaranteed Franco Sabatino’s case would be thrown out of court. The officer in charge of the evidence room hadn’t noted the time when the evidence was transferred to him. The transportation officer’s signature was there, but nowhere did it state that the evidence officer had logged the evidence in at a given time.