Perilous Curves Collection (BBW Romance) (2 page)

Anger and guilt flared inside me. It would be near impossible to convince him to leave -- that made me mad. But I didn’t
really
have to turn him away. Except I totally had to brush him off if I wanted to keep my business, reputation and self-respect intact. If I had a weak spot that could turn everything I had accomplished in life to dust, Dante Serrano was it.

Pushing down the guilt, I pulled out a referral card for Craig Diamond, the private investigator I keep on retainer.

I started to offer the card. Dante snatched it away and flicked it over his shoulder.

"Damn it, Olivia, stop saying you won’t take Alex’s case." He pulled worn, wrinkled newspaper clippings from his jacket pocket and smoothed them open. He jerked his head in the direction of the card on the floor. "Diamond have a reputation like this?"

The most recent clipping was from the Masonville Times article on my return to the city and the work I had done in southern Florida on nine cases involving minority prisoners. Two had resulted in exonerations, the other seven men had gotten new trials, all of which I would eventually have to return to Miami to testify on. The other clippings involved high profile murders I had solved back when I worked for the Miami-Dade police department.

I gave an involuntary shake of my head, ceding the point to Dante. Diamond was good or I wouldn't have him on retainer. But his reputation had been mostly made working with his last partner on the Masonville police force, a regular homicide superstar. On his own, he was a decent ex-cop with some damn fine connections.

Dante needed more than that. His son was in jail -- picked up on Sunday and accused of killing a local black man. The murder victim, Ray Epps, was a respected member of the community and a foreman in Dante’s construction company. He also was the father of the girl Alex was dating. It was only a matter of hours before Alex’s name would be released to the paper. For a small market, the arrest would be big news. Dante, as I had just learned, owned the largest construction and property management firm in the city, with projects that extended across the state.

Normally, being a rich man's son was a good deal for a defendant. Emphasis on "normally." A wealthy white kid a few counties over and looking to score some meth in Masonville's ghetto had his guilty verdict vacated last summer with some fancy lawyering, leaving the city's jury pool volatile. The victim in that case had been a black father of three accidentally in the wrong place at the worst time.

If Alex's case went to trial, he would need not only my expertise, but also every last ounce of the good will I had already earned with the community.

So, yeah, Dante needed more than Craig Diamond on his son's case, but I sure as hell didn't owe Serrano another second of my time. Whatever the other facts were, the only relevant one was in the past, two decades old and partially reflected in the notes I had just taken.

I picked the pen back up, the tap-tap of its metal tip against my desk coming harder and slower as my temper flared.

"Olivia, he’s innocent." Dante reached out to cover my hand with his.

The effect was instant -- heat flared up my arm then split to warm my face and chest. More swear words filled my head.
Damn him, damn him, damn him!

I jerked my hand back. I shouldn't feel a damn thing when he touched me. Or I should feel cold, numb. I'd made myself numb after he left, stayed that way for months. It had taken a year before anything feeling like a real smile had graced my face. And my confidence had been shattered, turning me almost feral for a few years when would-be suitors complimented me.

I mean, those other men couldn't possibly have been telling me the truth, right? Like Dante, they had said they found me sexy, desirable, yadda, yadda, yadda. Like Dante, they had to have been lying and would soon leave.

Folding my arms across my chest, I glared at Serrano.

Shaking some of my resolve, his face grew stern in response. "Liv, you won’t hold my mistakes against an innocent boy. I know you."

Mistakes!

His first and only word on the matter since he’d disappeared from my life. I looked at the pad with his son’s birth date on it. At least I now knew why he had walked out.

"Dante." His name came out as softly as I’d ever spoken it. "How can I focus on finding evidence to help Alex when all I can think about is how he was conceived two months before you dumped me?"

There, it was out. No more holding my breath or dancing around the subject. He could pick Craig’s card up from the carpet and walk out of my life once more. And this time he could do it forever because I sure as hell didn’t need to go through this again. Every second of this meeting was bringing back memories and feelings I had thought dead and buried.

The deep voice that had made me want to peel my clothes off during college and snuggle against him, now made my skin flush uncomfortably until I felt like I had fire ants crawling along my skin. He still wore the same brand of cologne, too. Thinking of the scent against his flesh reminded me of all the times I had buried myself against the warmth of his body.

And when he sucked the left side of his bottom lip in, like he was doing right then, I instinctively flinched knowing what would come next. He did it when he was in deep thought, zeroing in on a solution to a tough problem. This morning, my refusal was the problem and the only solution was for him to leave.

His mouth relaxed and I knew he was about to try again to convince me. I raised my hand before he could speak. "Don’t Dante."

No matter what he might say, he damn well couldn’t deny the dates. Even if Alex had been born premature, Dante had gone straight from dumping me to another woman’s bed. Probably some slinky blonde, one of the cheerleaders at college who were always trying to attract his attention. Not that I cared what she looked like.

Trying to keep the growl out of my voice, I pointed at the card on the floor. "Craig’s an experienced investigator, former Masonville homicide detective. Pretty famous in town and he would be working the case anyway if I had said yes. So just take the damn card and go."

For a second, he didn't move, just stared at me as if I was a complete stranger. Then he stood. I foolishly thought he would relent, that he was standing to leave. Instead, he started to come around my desk.

I pushed my chair back, trying to escape his resolute approach. "He’s good, Dante."

"I don’t want good, Olivia. I want the best. That's you -- always has been you." The purr was back in his voice, full throated and rumbling.

I shook my head. I knew that look in his eyes. It frightened and excited me in a way I no longer thought possible.

"Don't come any closer," I pleaded.

His hand came down on the back of my chair to keep me from scooting further away. The other hand took possession of the arm rest so I couldn't slide out. He bent until his mouth was next to my ear, his breath falling warm against my skin. "Anything you want, Liv. If it's in my power, it's yours. Every last dollar, every piece of property."

I shook my head. He had nothing to offer. Once he had been everything I wanted, but I could never be that stupid, trusting girl again. Neither could he give me back all the intervening years or the lovers I might have been happy with if they had only come before him.

"Liv--"

Feeling the brush of his lips against my ear, I shook my head again, more violently. "I don't want your money, Serrano. And no matter what Diamond finds, you'll need every last dollar for the attorney to make the evidence matter in court."

He stopped arguing -- with words at least. His hand skimmed up my arm until his fingertips landed softly against my collar bone. He was betting on all my little pleasure points being the same. I closed my eyes and prayed they weren't.

"I said anything, Liv." His hand dipped beneath the silk shell I wore under my jacket. A short caress parted my lace bra from my skin and his hand slid inside to palm my breast.

"Dante…"

I didn't expect what came next.

"I divorced Alex's mom the summer you got engaged to Dumont."

I wanted to cry, uncertain whether the response was regret or the sweet pain of having Dante touching me again. Peter Dumont had been my second engagement -- my father's choice, not mine. Alex would have been about three the summer I gave in to family pressure. But I hadn't been able to go through with the marriage. What Dante had done to me, I did to Peter in a way. I never set a date and after a few months, Dumont had stopped pressing. A year later, he walked down the aisle with another woman.

Clearly Olivia Miller, so plump and awkward, was easy to get over. Dante had done it, so had Peter and a handful of other men.

I pressed my lips together, trying hard to keep any tears at bay. I couldn't take the case. I wanted to punch Dante, I wanted to laugh in his face about his failed marriage. But I also wanted to lean into him, my breast filling his palm as I tilted my head up toward his mouth.

Recognizing that I was riding a roller coaster of angry and aroused, I knew I couldn’t risk subconsciously sabotaging the investigation. I had to tell him no and keep on telling him until the message sank into his dense skull. "Take the card and go, Dante."

His hand moved deeper into my bra. His thumb slid toward his palm to trap and tug at my swollen nipple. "Alex didn’t do this, he didn’t kill Ray."

A moan threatened to erupt but I swallowed it down. Turning my head, I glared at Serrano but made no move to stop his hand as I bit out, "And Craig or some other PI will help you prove it."

Turning my face towards his was a tactical mistake. His mouth captured mine, his tongue quickly drawing me into a kiss I didn't want as his fingers grew more teasing. He plucked the nipple, smoothed it before rolling the whole puckered areola as his tongue and mouth ravaged me.

When the next moan threatened, I couldn't stop it.

Sensing he had me, Dante slid his other hand behind my neck, his fingers wrapped around the back of my skull so that he had full control over the kiss. Another wave of memories washed through me. My thighs slicked as I remembered the subtle ways he had dominated my body. Persistent, he had always refused to let me retreat from my arousal. There had been no hiding, no lights out -- as a lover, Dante would accept nothing less than my body and need fully exposed to him. I'd felt beautiful then. Beautiful, loved, desired -- but Alex was proof that I had been nothing more than gullible and stupid.

"I can't," I gasped, ending the kiss as my hand came up to stop his tormenting caress.

"One week, Liv." Dante stared deep into my eyes before his lips traced a line from my cheek down to the side of my mouth. "Then I’ll let you hand the case off to this Diamond guy."

I swallowed a sigh. He knew to always start small with me and chip away from there. That’s how it had started back in college. He’d been in the library, absorbed in his engineering textbooks, always mindful of the merit scholarship paying his way through school. I had been equally absorbed -- watching him.

When he glanced up and caught me in the act of visually devouring him, I’d blushed hotly and immediately left the building. That had sparked Dante's interest and determination. He'd dogged me for a month before I agreed to one date -- just the one. One date had led to one short stop in my dorm room at college, then to one kiss, one hand on my hip, then another behind my head, just as he held me now.

I sighed. I’d been a plump, artless freshman back then. Now in my early forties, I was still plump, or worse. But I was no longer fresh or artless. I wouldn't let Dante seduce me into working for him.

Finally finding some will power, I pushed against his chest. He retreated, just a few inches.

Realizing he had freed my breast completely from its bra and shell, I drew my jacket shut as I fought the urge to smooth my hair. After a short swallow, I met his gaze. "You think I’ll prove the Masonville PD wrong in a week?"

"I think you’ll prove yourself wrong in a week, Liv." He stepped further away, certain he had convinced me. "I know you. You’ll stay on after the week -- you wouldn’t let an innocent kid go to jail or the real killer go free."

Chapter Two

After Dante left my office with a limited consulting agreement, I contacted the defense attorney Dante had hired for Alex. Dante had been right not to try to hire me through the lawyer. Arnold Crane might be a five-hundred-dollar-an-hour suit, but I had plenty of practice turning men like that down. Telling Dante no? Not so much.

I set a pre-afternoon appointment to pick up some background files from Crane. Then I went by the city jail, dropping the lawyer's name ambiguously and bluffing my way into the jail for a face-to-face with Dante’s son.

At twenty, Alex was the same age Dante had been when we first met. Waiting for the young man to be brought into the visiting room, I had anticipated a sense of déjà vu. In a way, Alex did remind me of his father, but only a little in his physical appearance. He was tall, like Dante, but reed thin. And his hair was a light golden brown. Even the eyes, a cloudy blue, were off. But the kid walked like Dante, even with a murder charge hanging over his head. He looked me in the eye, too, and didn’t waver when he went over his version of the events on the day of the murder.