Sex & the Single Girl (6 page)

“I can when they come from a man who's only interested in dragging the club's name through a little more mud.” She uncovered the mike on her headset and told her partner she'd check in later then clicked off the connection.

“I offered to kick out a drunk. You don't have to make a federal case out of it.”

“
You
obviously want to.” Brianne tossed aside her headset and opened the top of her computer display. “That's the only reason you're here, after all—to make your federal case and then ride off into the sunset a
hero. Of course, it doesn't matter to you that you could be costing four women their livelihoods and their dreams for the second time in one year. As long as you get your conviction, who cares what happens to the club, right?” She spared him a glance over her shoulder, her red hair dancing around her shoulders like a fitful flame as she moved. “So do me a favor and don't pretend to care what happens around here before you pull the rug out from under us.”

She went back to tapping away at her computer keys, her breathing measured and regular and totally unruffled while he was still over here choking on his freaking shallow gulps of air so as not to inhale too much of her damn mess-with-his-head perfume.

The whole day had been an exercise in professional and sexual frustration. Mel's trail was cold—possibly thanks to his stepdaughter's smooth maneuverings— and Aidan's superiors grew more agitated with the situation with each passing day. And instead of focusing on his work, Aidan was more in tune with Brianne's every movement in the chair beside him, every breath she took and every slow uncrossing and recrossing of her mile-long legs.

He'd watched video camera feeds of half-naked women shimmying across the stage in the Moulin Rouge Lounge all night, their painted nipples poking through the white feather bras they wore with their white skirts. Brianne, on the other hand, was encased in a forbidding expanse of starched white dress shirt, yet he could envision her breasts more clearly.

And as if that weren't bad enough, he'd been plagued by memories of her long-ago racy propositions
ever since they'd finished their exploration of the hotel and plunked into their seats in her office.

When she'd been giving him the grand tour, she'd shown him the tacky Sweethearts Suite decorated in chocolate brown and pinks, the bedspread a nightmare of bright candy wrappers and peppermint sticks. Instead of thinking like an agent and gleaning details to apply to his case, Aidan had been swamped with a vision of eighteen-year-old Brianne in her candy striper's outfit asking him if he wanted to see her tie a cherry stem with her tongue.

No doubt about it, Brianne had been a wild child.

And while Aidan had congratulated himself at the time for ignoring her overtures—repeatedly—all her suggestive propositions were coming back to him in vivid color. Only, he wasn't remembering the Brianne of a decade ago issuing them.

In his mind's eye, he was hearing them come from the Brianne of today.

The Brianne with the take-no-shit attitude and the sexy saunter that could bring a grown man to his knees.

And it was driving him insane.

Steeling himself for another round with her, he shoved his chair away from the control board and swiveled his seat to face hers. “I can't afford to care about the consequences of Mel's arrest. Chances are they're going to up his status to one of Florida's most wanted men if I don't bring him in within the week. Do you think criminals shouldn't be punished just because it might have a few negative effects?”

Brianne shoved away from the control panel and stood. “Of course not. I'm just saying don't pretend
to give a rip about the club or me when you're doing your damnedest to run us both out of town.”

Aidan shot out of his seat, putting them inches apart.

So maybe it wasn't such a great idea to confront her, he thought as the perfume that had been teasing his nose all night wafted even closer.

If her body was even half as hot as his, no wonder he could smell the scent all the more.

“I'm not trying to run you out. Or your business, or your partners. As long as you're not helping him cover his tracks, lady, you've got nothing to worry about.” He didn't want to think about Brianne being involved in anything illegal. But she had remained close to her stepfather for years after he'd divorced her mother.

Aidan knew because he had Mel's file practically memorized.

Brianne turned her back on him to glide her way across her office floor, her high heels barely making a sound on the brand-new black industrial carpet. Every facet of the woman's space was coolly functional and austerely impersonal. No photos, no frills and no nonsense for this woman.

Aidan could relate. He'd gone the frills and sentiment route with a woman five years ago and look what had happened.

Disillusionment on both sides. Disappointment. Divorce.

Aidan wouldn't be treading down the path of vulnerable women anymore. He'd tangled with innocence and had ended up hurting his wife with his dangerous job, his total cluelessness when it came to sensitivity.

Brianne, on the other hand, knew the score. As she
stood there in her black sequined skirt and her all-business white shirt, Aidan couldn't see a hint of vulnerability in the woman.

And innocence?

Brianne might protest her innocence in a courtroom, but she had to know as well as he did that she liked living on the edge. She was no stranger to danger or adventure.

Even though Aidan had been too much of a gentleman to indulge her eighteen-year-old sensual urges despite her provocation, he had no doubt that she'd been able to lure other men to her bed. And had probably left them begging for more and ruined for any other woman to boot.

No, Brianne Wolcott hadn't been vulnerable
or
innocent for a very long time.

Which meant she was the kind of woman Aidan allowed himself to touch. To take home. To satisfy mutual urges.

He tracked her movements on the other side of the room—this woman who was distracting the hell out of him. She was talking to him as she flipped through papers on her desk. Apparently she'd been telling him off while he'd been caught up in his own lust.

“…and I don't care what Lainie says,” she was saying, eyeing him with a sharp green gaze. “Negative press does not equate with good publicity as far as I'm concerned. The club has enough association with the underworld. I have every intention of making this place a success despite Mel and all his crooked buddies. And despite you camping out here ready to pounce.”

She had the right of it in the pounce department.

Aidan's blood was pounding through his head—and through the rest of him—so damn hard he could barely make out her words to him anymore.

There was only one thing left to do to save his investigation. Only one course of action that would rescue him from the constant sexual distraction of Brianne.

He had to have her.

Right now.

Tonight.

It was for the good of his case, damn it. And even though he'd never been a guy to follow standard operating procedure in any area of his life, he wasn't breaking any official rules here tonight. She wasn't a suspect in his investigation.

“I don't know a thing about publicity—positive or negative—so I can't help you there. And I'm sure you are perfectly capable of making this place a success, Brianne, no matter what I do while I'm here.” He wanted to take a step closer, but he knew as soon as he did he'd take ten more and then he'd be all over her.

He at least owed her fair warning.

“But that part you mentioned about me being ready to pounce?” His eyes wandered over her with slow deliberation. “You couldn't be more right. I'm guessing you've got about three seconds before I zero in on my next target.”

B
RIANNE COULDN'T HAVE
moved to save her life.

Not with Aidan's gaze cruising over her with every bit of sensual heat she'd ever longed for ten years ago. More. She would have never guessed back then that a man's stare could ignite a small inferno.

For that matter, she hadn't known until just this red-hot, blistering second.

If she'd had any doubt about who Aidan's next target might be—she didn't—it was obliterated the second he moved toward her. Invaded her personal space. Crowded her.

This was a bad, bad idea.

Her hungry lips and aching body didn't seem to realize it, however. She'd been too close to Aidan Maddock for the last twelve hours to have any perspective on what she should or shouldn't be doing with him.

By 4:00 a.m., her brain had checked out and her body was moving on pure instinct.

“Does this remind you of anything, Bri?” His voice was close. Too close.

He bracketed her body with his arms, steadying himself on the wall behind her.

She gulped for breath but only managed to inhale the scent of Aidan.

If she wasn't careful, she'd be lost in a tide of sensation and her own desire. She licked her lips in a vain attempt to make her mouth do something—anything— besides initiate the kind of kiss she had subjected herself to earlier in the day. She'd barely survived the first go-round with Aidan. She'd never emerge from Round Two with her panties intact.

Where was Lainie's Super Glue when she needed it?

Clearing her throat, she fought to keep her voice steady. Even. “It reminds me why we shouldn't get within arm's length of one another. If we're even an inch too close we end up getting drawn together like high-powered magnets.”

Aidan flexed his muscles on either side of her, a hard ripple that couldn't help but snag her eye. Brianne shivered in time with the movement. “That's not the right answer. And as a matter of fact, I don't even think it's an honest answer.”

“No?”

“No. You can't tell me you're thinking about all the reasons we shouldn't be next to each other right now. My money says you're thinking about all the reasons why one of us ought to take that last little step.” He shifted back an inch, giving her a fraction more breathing room. Not enough. “Turn around.” His voice went lethally soft.

Brianne's insides turned hot and liquid. The only thing behind her was one mirrored wall.

“But I…” Shouldn't. Couldn't.

Wanted to anyway.

“Do you want to hear what this reminds me of?”
His dark eyes pinned her, teasing her with her own curiosity.

Besides, a dare lurked behind his words and Brianne didn't have any intention of backing down from this man.

Not now. Not ever.

She made a tight turn in the narrow space he provided her, pivoting until she faced the wall of smoky mirrors made all the more moody by the room's blinking blue light cast from ten different television screens.

As she confronted her reflection, Brianne nearly wavered on her feet. She was not a small woman by anyone's standards, yet Aidan Maddock's height made her look almost delicate. Fragile.

His shoulders loomed above hers—broader, thicker. The top of her head reached his mouth, but the expression in his eyes didn't give her the impression he wanted to plant a chaste kiss on her hair. Rather, he looked like a man ready to devour her whole with just the slightest encouragement.

The position—her in front and him behind—didn't make her uneasy. Only…titillated. Edgy. Hungry for whatever it was he had in mind.

When he said nothing, however, a shadow of nervousness shivered through her. “Well?” she prodded.

Aidan's gaze connected with hers in the mirror as he ran his hands down the length of her shoulders and arms. As he reached her hands, he tugged them backward, behind her.

Together.

It was an odd move for him to make. Aggressive. Totally un-P.C. in today's cautious dating community.
But that didn't stop the thrill chasing through her to be held captive by this man.

She watched his reflection in the mirror, noted the way his gaze fell to her breasts that were now thrust forward and pressing—achingly—against her white cotton shirt.

He'd probably spied her lack of a bra at twenty paces given his don't-miss-a-thing federal agent eyes. But if he hadn't noticed then, there was certainly no mistaking it now. Cotton didn't begin to hide the tight peaks from his steamy stare.

“How about now?” His grip tightened fractionally on her imprisoned wrists. “Does this pose spark any memories of a certain fantasy you once shared with me in your bad-girl youth?”

Oh God.

He remembered.

For years Brianne had hoped—prayed—that he'd forgotten the night she'd whispered her naughtiest fantasy into his ear while he sat in his car at a late-night stakeout in front of her home. It had been a last bid to make him notice her as a woman, but it had failed miserably when she realized Aidan had been sleeping on his shift and had missed out on hearing her most forbidden sexual desires.

Or so she'd thought.

Obviously, Aidan had heard every word of her fantasy—muscle-bound cop meets naive civilian and subjects her to a strip search of the most erotic kind.

Brianne wanted nothing so much as to lie. To play innocent and hope he had enough mercy on her to let her off the hook without embarrassing her too much.

But Brianne hadn't been innocent in too many years to count, and she wasn't entirely sure Aidan possessed any mercy.

Besides, her flaming cheeks burning back at her in the mirror's reflection attested to a clear memory of the incident without her even opening her mouth.

Aidan bent closer, his head dipping into the curve of her neck, strategically maneuvering his mouth next to her ear. “I seem to remember it involved some very naughty role-playing.”

Her thighs twitched as an ache started between her legs. “A gentleman wouldn't remind me of this.”

Aidan swept aside her hair to bare her neck while his other hand kept her wrists firmly in his grip. “Then again, a gentleman probably wouldn't fulfill your most wet and wild dreams, now would he?” His lips met the tingly skin of her throat, then traveled in a slow ride over her shoulder.

Her breasts tightened all the more.

“You're pretty self-important if you think I harbor the same fantasies now that I did back then, Aidan.” Liar. Liar.

And God above, were her pants ever on fire.

Brianne could barely stand still as Aidan studied her in the mirror with the slow thoroughness and open hunger of a lover.

“It may not be your fantasy anymore, but you can bet that sweet ass of yours it's been mine for ten years running. You'd better spread those legs if you know what's good for you.”

Oh. My.

Air rushed out of Brianne's lungs as the reality of her situation rolled over her.

Ten years after she'd teased Aidan with her sex-crazed schoolgirl daydreams, he was finally giving her what she'd asked for. And no matter that she'd dated a slew of guys since then or had taken a few adventurous turns in the bedroom to satisfy her inner vixen. Her fantasies about Aidan had never totally died.

They'd just been shoved to the back of her consciousness. Until now.

“I'm not the wild thing I used to be,” she confided, edging closer to the mirror. “Are you sure you're still interested?”

She didn't say it to be coy. She wanted to make sure he understood she wasn't the same woman who had proposed all those crazy sexual schemes to him a decade ago.

But Aidan's knee was already wedged between her thighs. “I said spread 'em.”

He let go of her hair and grazed one hand over her starched shirt to rest on her abdomen. Right above the place she burned for his touch the most.

The whole situation was out of control along with her body. This wasn't good for her personal peace of mind or her professional association with the club. But closing time had come and gone and she wasn't on the clock anymore.

She'd worry about the consequences of her actions tomorrow. Hell, she was an expert at cleaning up from the fallout of her ex-stepfather's shady dealings and her mother's life dramas. Why shouldn't she use all her sweep-it-under-the-rug skills for her own benefit
for a change? Surely she could find a way to make this problem go away.

Tomorrow.

Right now, all she needed to do was lock the door and forget about everything except this one fantasy come to life.

Wriggling her hands against Aidan's grip, she met his gaze in the mirror. “The remote on my wrist can lock the office door. Two keys from the right on the top row.”

Behind her, Aidan's fingers worked the button and then slid her master remote control from her wrist. He tossed the device on the desk a few inches away. “The door's locked.” He peered up at the wall of television screens behind them. “Your drunk is even now stumbling his way home up Ocean Drive and your club is closed for the night. You don't have any excuses to keep you from complying now.”

Actually, she did have a few reasons. But she didn't feel like thinking about any of them when Aidan's body hovered an inch away from hers.

She edged her legs farther apart.

Aidan stared down at her thighs in the mirror. He used one foot to nudge her stance even wider until her slim-fitting sequin skirt strained just a little.

She gave him a cool look over her shoulder despite the fire raging between them. “If you're searching me, Agent Maddock, I hardly think you'll find anything under my skirt.”

If she was going to indulge this fantasy scenario, she didn't plan to do it in half measures. She would play her role to the hilt.

Not unlike she had one long-ago night when he'd pulled into her driveway while she was in the process of climbing out her bedroom window. She'd teased him then too, shouting down to him while she toyed with the hem of her dress to ask if he thought she was wearing any panties.

His reaction now was far more satisfactory than the scowl she'd earned back then.

Aidan's hot palm moved in small, gentle circles over her belly, totally at odds with the gruff note in his voice. “You'd be surprised what people hide in the most unusual places, lady. And you're pretty high up on my suspect list so you'd better brace yourself for thorough inspection.”

Apparently, Aidan was sliding into his role pretty easily too.

A layer of steamy mist fogged the mirror, clouding their reflection to a hazy shadow. But Brianne didn't need the reminder of what she looked like in her wanton pose as Aidan's prisoner. The image had singed itself into her memory forever.

“I know my rights,” she taunted him, leaning more heavily into his thigh that was still lodged between hers. “And you can be damn sure you won't get away with this. By tomorrow, you'll be paying for these liberties you're taking.”

The hand he rested on her abdomen slid into action, molding her starched shirt against her body. His fingers slid between the buttons to unfasten them until he gained entry to her bare skin. Her breasts.

She couldn't help the little sigh of satisfaction that
hissed from her as his callused palm cupped the taut fullness of her.

“Maybe you'll make me pay tomorrow,” he admitted as his hips connected with hers, his shaft nudging her bottom with delicious insistence. “But there's not a damn thing you're going to do about it tonight except give me exactly what I want.”

 

A
IDAN WAITED
, watched for any signs he might be carrying this strip search scene a little too far. He even considered easing up on his grip when Brianne's wrists twisted against his hand.

But then she used her repositioned fingers to stroke over the tip of his cock through his jeans and he felt pretty damn certain he was in safe terrain.

Of course, that was among the least of the things he was feeling right at this moment.

Brianne's feathery caress barely whispered over him in her awkward pose with her wrists behind her back, but that slight touch had an impact that nearly brought him to his knees. Even when she was at his mercy, she still managed to be in total control.

“So what exactly
do
you want?” Brianne arched her back in a way that pressed her breasts more deeply into his hand. She turned her head to one side and then the other, making her hair ripple against his chest like a silken breeze. “Surely you must know I'm unarmed by now.”

“I don't know any such thing.” He slid her white blouse down her arms, then released her wrists so he could slip the sleeves off. “As a matter of fact, I'm
more convinced than ever that you're a dangerous woman with multiple weapons at your disposal.”

He lifted her arms and planted her hands on the mirror in front of her, now too foggy with the steam they generated to provide a reflection. Just as well as far as Aidan was concerned. His lone view of Brianne's body was already nudging him into cardiac arrest territory. If he'd been privy to a simultaneous front view, he'd probably keel over from sensory overload.

Her pale skin stood out in stark contrast to the smoky mirror and her black sequin skirt. A swath of red hair knifed down the middle of her creamy back, a bold splash of color in the austere setting of her office.

She tossed her hair over one shoulder as she turned around to look at him, one delicate eyebrow arched. “I don't think you can call what I'm armed with a weapon.”

“Splitting hairs on the semantics isn't going to save you from getting frisked.” He couldn't wait to get his hands all over her. The dark exotic scent she wore curled around them like a fragrant whisper. Her teasing words egged him on in his quest to fulfill her long-ago fantasy even though he was so ready for her he thought he'd lose it any moment.

He needed her now. Wanted her five hours ago.