The Virgin's Night Out (8 page)

“Talking to a beautiful woman is never any trouble.”

Blood rushed up to warm her cheeks. Linking her hands in lap, she focused on the leather of her boots, smoothed down the hem of her skirt where it ended a few inches above. “Yeah…well…”

“You’ve got somebody watching you.”

Jerking up her head, she stared at him. His face relaxed, his jawline darkened by a heavy growth of stubble. The wind teased his short, dark hair as he glanced her way. “Relax,” he said softly. “Try not look nervous or anything. But there’s a guy down at the coffee shop watching you.”

A chill raced down her spine. Struggling to keep her voice level, she glanced at him and then back out over the street. “What’s he look like?”

“Tall—he’s sitting down, but he looks pretty tall, heavy build. He has a baseball cap on and sunglasses.” A faint smile curved his mouth. “You seem sort of calm.”

“No.” She swallowed and twisted her fingers together. “No. Not calm. But my brothers…” She shrugged. “They are…well, both of them were in security.”

Now, she let herself glance down at the coffeeshop.

It wasn’t hard to locate the big, built baseball-cap wearer. Although he was no longer sitting down. Her hands went slick. “It’s okay,” she murmured as the cop next to her tensed. It was subtle, but her brothers had been cautious, protective—
and
thorough. “I know him.”

Grant gave her a narrow look. “Hmmm.”

“What’s that mean?” She looked up at him, painfully aware of the man approaching them. “That
hmmmm
.”

“Nothing. He’s crossed the street—looking our way now. And I get the feeling it’s a good idea you never agreed to go out with me.”

“What?” Unwittingly, she looked down the street, watching as Boone drew closer and closer.

“He looks like a man who would object to his woman dating another man.”

“I’m not his…”

A shiver raced down her spine and she looked up.

I’m not his
.

Boone didn’t know what they’d been talking about—wanted to tell himself he didn’t care. But he did. He had a bad feeling they were talking about him and the way her voice faded away as she caught sight of him only added to that feeling.

I’m not his
.

A curious tightening in his chest made it hard for him to speak but he forced the words out. “Sloane.”

The man at her side gave her a sidelong look.

“Hi, Boone.” Her response came out husky and low. She watched him through her lashes, a faint flush on her cheeks.

He could remember a look almost identical to that as he guided her body under his.

The memory made his muscles go tight, his blood go hot. Dragging his attention away from her, he stared at the other man. Tall and lean, with watchful eyes.

Cop.

They assessed each other for a taut moment and Boone could all but feel his hackles rising, a wave of possessiveness unlike anything he’d ever felt swamping him.

The cop crooked an eyebrow and glanced at Sloane.

Boone looked at her as well.

She looked tired, he thought.

Beautiful and tired, with shadows lying under her dark eyes like she wasn’t sleeping.

Was she…

With that swift mental kick in the ass, he reminded himself of why he was here.

“Can we talk?”

A ghost of a smile danced at her lips.

“Sure.” She stood. “Why not?”

The cop rose as well, holding her purse in one hand. His eyes lingered on Sloane for another moment before he looked at Boone. Mouth tight, he nodded and then held out the bright pink bag. Boone had seen him take it, had watched as Sloane all but dragged herself up the steps.

He moved forward to get the bag, but she’d already accepted it from the cop and hooked it over her shoulder.

“If you’re ready…?” She flicked him a look and then without waiting for a response, she turned and moved up the steps.

Although the cop continued to watch them, Boone kept his eyes on the back of her head as they moved inside. She started up the steps and he found his gaze wandering over her, the long legs encased in leather up to her knee, the dark hose that covered the skin in between. Her skirt was close fitting, ending a couple of inches shy of her knees and he was mesmerized by the sight of her hips swaying back and forth.

They climbed the first flight and he paused, but all she did was turn and continue up the next flight of steps. “Don’t they have an elevator here?” he asked, the question coming out harsher than he’d intended.

She just looked so tired…

“They do.” She shrugged as she mounted the last step and cast him a look. “I have…issues with closed-in spaces.”

A faint flush rose up over her cheeks. He came to a stop in front of her door.

This is it
.

His heart skipped a beat, then started to pound in hard, heavy beats.

It didn’t take long enough for her to unlock the door, usher him inside. There was an alarm system chiming and he waited as she dealt with it, taking the time to study where she lived.

It was…charming. He supposed that was the word. Warm blue walls, pale curtains. A couch upholstered in a shade of blue just a few shades deeper than the walls. There was a clutter of pillows on the long, low couch and a chair tucked up under the window, angled to catch the light. The table next to it held a couple of books.

“Nice place,” he said.

“Thanks.” She put her purse down on the counter that ran between the kitchen and living room and he watched as she curled her hands over the edge, her fingers tightening.

When she sighed, her slim shoulders rose and fell.

Then she looked up at him. “What did you need, Boone?”

You
.

It leaped into his mind, all but branded itself across his psyche.

Clearing his throat, he moved away from the door and paced the living room. He paused by the window and stared out. The cop was still there.

“Are you dating him?”

When she didn’t answer, he turned and looked at her. “Are you?”

“That’s your business
how
?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m just curious.” If she was seeing somebody…Thinking about it filled him with a mix of resignation and anger, something he didn’t entirely understand.

“He’s asked me out a few times,” she said, her voice neutral. Then she shrugged. “I’ve been busy lately.”

“Sta—” He snapped his jaw shut before the rest of his response could leave him.
Stay busy
.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” Scowling, he shoved his hands into his pockets and dragged his mind back to what needed to be done. “

“Look. I just—” The question froze in his throat and Boone let his eyes roam over her, lingering on her waist before he forced himself to look at her. “I have to head out on a job soon. Before I did, I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t…”

“A problem?” she offered, her voice caustic.

He shot a look at her face. “Is there?”

Sloane smiled, a beatific smile that made her look completely lovely—and completely bewitching. “There’s no problem here, Boone.” Then she turned away and moved into the kitchen. “I’ve had a rough day. Would you like some wine?”

Wine.

She was offering him wine.

Why in the hell did he feel so disappointed? He hadn’t…

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. “Sure.”

He didn’t need wine and he didn’t need to linger, but he wasn’t ready to leave either.

A few minutes, he accepted the glass she offered and turned away as she poured her own.

He took a sip and then hissed as the sugar hit his system. “Is this wine or just liquid sugar?”

“The only way I like it.”

He looked back at her as she took a small sip and then put the glass down and turned back to the fridge. “How long are you in town?”

He mumbled an answer that barely made sense—even to him—as his gaze slid down her back and locked on the curve of her ass.

Leave. You got what you came here for. There’s no reason to stay
. That knowledge frustrated him, aggravated him.

“So there’s…”

She stiffened as he moved up behind her.

The scent of her rushed straight to his head. Without conscious thought, he reached out and rested a hand on her hip, waiting for her to pull away.

She was rigid, her spine a stiff line.

Slowly, he slid his hand around until he could press his palm to her belly and tug her back against him.

“Sloane…” he murmured her name and lowered his head.

She shivered.

“I already told you what you needed to know,” she said, her voice hoarse.

Had she?

Catching her chin in his hand, he tugged her face around to meet is. Their gazes connected for a long moment before he swept his across her face, let it linger on her lips.

“Did you?” he asked absently. He pressed his thumb to her lip. She sucked in a breath and he dragged his gaze up to meet hers. “I keep thinking about your mouth.”

My mouth…?

Sloane stared up at him and when he pressed down against her lower lip, she instinctively opened and caught the tip of his finger between her teeth.

A ragged groan rose out of him.

Then, as he stared into her eyes, he lowered his head, sealing his mouth over hers.

With her back pressed to his front, his arm holding her back against him, she could barely move. Desperate for another contact, a deeper one, she reached up and cupped her hand over the back of his neck.

He lifted his mouth just long enough to whisper, “Open for me, Sloane. Let me in.”

She couldn’t have denied him that—or anything else. When his tongue dipped inside her mouth, she whimpered and arched back against him.

He groaned, one hand catching her hip and holding her steady as he rocked against her. She felt each stroke right in the heart of her, each pang echoing through her body until she thought it would drive her mad.

“Sloane…?”

Dragging her lashes up, she rested her head against his shoulder. His hand had worked her blouse free from the waistband of her skirt—the skirt was tighter. In another month, it might not zip. A sudden harsh breath escaped her and she tensed.

His lashes swept low.

When he went to pull away, though, she closed her hand over his wrist, squeezed.

“I should go,” he whispered against her lips.

“Why? Why are you here?”

“I already told you.”

“And I gave you the answer, so why are you still here when you have a job to get ready for?”

His hands tightened on her hips with enough force to hurt.

“Because I…”

When he didn’t answer, she turned in the circle of his arms, trapped between his body and the counter.

“I needed to know,” he said and the words came out in a slow, uneven rumble.

“So you know. There’s no problem. If that’s all you need…”

“It’s not.”

She didn’t even have time to prepare as his mouth slanted over hers.

Through the lightweight sweater she wore, she could feel the heat of his hands as he caught her hips and dragged her closer. She caught her breath and the gasp seemed to draw him even closer. When he brought a hand up to fist in her hair, she reached for him, only to stop.

This was insane.

Slowly, he ended the kiss, lifting his head to study her. In his blue eyes, she saw the echo of the need storming inside her. She’d dreamed about him. Night after night. Wished for him, day after day. What she felt, it wasn’t love, but she thought maybe it could be.

Already, the emotions she had for him were stronger than what she’d felt for Rodney and it wasn’t just because he made her body sing. She’d felt something toward him even when they were just exchanging letters—admiration, yes, but there was something about the words he’d written, the careful guarded way he’d expressed himself that made her wonder—did he feel the echo of the loneliness that had too often haunted her?

“What is this?” she asked softly as he cupped her face, his thumb tracking over the curve of her lip.

He stared, seemingly obsessed with the way it looked as he touched her. “This…” Boone shook his head. “It’s an obsession.”

With a groan, he let go of her hips but he didn’t move away. He braced his hands on the counter on either side of her, pinning her in.

She found surrounded by him.

She would have even enjoyed it if she hadn’t seen the reluctance in his eyes. He wanted her…but he didn’t like it.

“And what do you think we should do about it?”

Boone’s eyes roamed over her face. “What I think…I think I should get the hell out of here, walk away. You should forget you ever saw me, that you even know me.”

“Just like that?” She tightened her hands on the edge of the counter, an ache settling inside her chest at the thought of it. Forget that night existed? Not likely. “Why?”

“Because this is no good.” He slid his hand up her back.

She went still at his touch, but he didn’t seem to notice. He smoothed his hand around her torso and then up, catching a heavy lock of her hair in his hand. “Well, I’m no expert, but it felt pretty good.”

With a ragged breath, he shook his head. “I don’t need to think about how good it felt. I’m already going insane, thinking I imagined that night. Nothing can feel that good. That perfect—but that doesn’t mean this, you, me, is any good.”

“I’m not following.” She reached out and fisted her hand in his shirt. “It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me or anything. But you…we already sort of know each other. I like you. We…um…”

“Being good in bed doesn’t mean this is good.” He pushed his hand into her hair. “My job takes me everywhere and I never even know if I’ll come back. If I disappeared? There might never be answers. A smart woman doesn’t get involved with a guy like that.”

She licked her lips. “Then…” Why was it so hard to force the words out? He’d said almost exactly what she’d expected to hear. That was why Taylor had quit working in the field. He wanted his wife to know he’d be there.

Sloane wanted the same thing.

“Maybe you should go then.” She continued to stare at his chest. “I generally consider myself a smart woman.”