Читать книгу Risking It All - Cara Summers - Страница 9

Spring 2005

CHANCE MITCHELL had never before been obsessed by a woman in his life. He glanced down the table to where Detective Natalie Gibbs was sipping a glass of white wine. He continued to study her as she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. The two women seated next to her could be described as equally attractive, but ever since he’d joined his friends for a celebration at the Blue Pepper, his gaze had returned to Natalie.

At nine o’clock the popular Georgetown bistro was crowded. Customers were lined up three deep at the bar, and a salsa band was playing on the patio. In some corner of his mind, Chance was aware of that, just as he was vaguely aware of the ongoing conversation at his table, but his focus remained on the fascinating detective.

Her hair fell past her shoulders, and in the dim light of the bar, the red-gold curls looked as if they might burst into flames at any moment. He wanted to touch those curls. He wanted to touch her, slowly and thoroughly.

Chance took a long swallow of his beer, but it did little to cool the heat that burned inside of him. Oh, he was obsessing all right, and he wanted to know why.

What he felt for Natalie had begun the first moment he’d seen her. They’d both been working undercover for different agencies, and she’d been disguised when she’d walked into his art gallery. From the instant their eyes had met, there’d been a connection. He’d felt a curious shock of recognition that had registered like a punch in his gut.

So far, he hadn’t acted on the attraction. During the three days that he and Natalie had joined forces and worked as partners, the cool, aloof redhead had kept him at arm’s length. And he’d let her. That’s what he couldn’t quite figure out. He was a man who knew how to get what he wanted, but Natalie Gibbs had him hesitating in a way he couldn’t recall doing since he’d been a teenager.

Perhaps it was time he put a stop to that. She didn’t look quite so cool tonight. Maybe it was the clothes. When they’d worked as partners, she’d always worn a jacket and slacks, the standard uniform of a woman who worked in a man’s world. But tonight, the blouse she wore left her arms and throat bare, and the lacy, sheer fabric revealed curves as well as skin.

His eyes shifted to the V-neck that ended just where he imagined the valley between her breasts began. He let his gaze lower to the tiny, pearl buttons that marched in a narrow line to her waist. He could imagine unbuttoning them one at a time, very slowly, drawing out the pleasure for them both.

As the pImages** filled his mind, the tightening in his gut turned raw and primitively sexual. Why in hell was he hesitating? Desire was something he was familiar with. He could handle it. Or he could walk away. Couldn’t he?

He took another swallow of his beer.

“You all right?”

Chance tore his gaze away from Natalie to face the two men seated beside him. Tracker McBride had asked the question. But it was Lucas Wainwright who was studying him thoughtfully. Seven years ago, Tracker and Lucas had worked with him in a Special Forces unit, and in the past two weeks, they’d had the opportunity to work together again to crack a smuggling ring operating in D.C. Tonight, they were supposed to be celebrating the successful closure of the case, and this was the second time he’d lost track of the conversation, thanks to Detective Natalie Gibbs.

“I think he has his eye on the fair detective,” Lucas said.

Tracker’s look turned speculative. “Really?”

Knowing that the best defense was a good offense, Chance said to Tracker, “Have you and Sophie set a date yet?”

Tracker’s gaze went to the tall blonde sitting to Natalie’s right.

Lucas grinned. “I hear from Mac that Sophie is talking about a fall wedding.”

Chance mentally shook his head at the satisfied expression on Tracker’s face and shifted his gaze to the third woman who sat at the other end of the table, Dr. MacKenzie Lloyd Wainwright. Mac and Lucas had been married for a year, and they were expecting a child. He’d never envisioned either of his friends marrying and settling down.

“Now that Lucas and I are pretty much spoken for, it’s your turn,” Tracker said.

Chance held both hands out, palms up. “Not a chance in hell.” Then he laughed as his friends winced at the pun. He just wasn’t the marrying kind.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like women. He did. And you could italicize the plural. Not that he had ever involved himself with more than one woman at a time. Going down that particular path had always seemed to him to be way too complicated if not downright suicidal. He’d always made sure that his relationships were simple, uncomplicated and a lot of fun while they lasted. Permanent wasn’t a word that existed in his vocabulary. Hell, nothing was permanent—not in this life.

“I don’t know,” Tracker said. “Sophie says that there’s a real spark between you and the detective.”

The sudden ringing of a phone had all three men reaching for their cells. Whoever was getting the call, Chance figured he was saved by the bell. Lucas opened his and a second later said, “I’m going to have to take this in a quieter spot.” Rising, he signaled Tracker to come with him. The two friends worked together now. Lucas ran his family’s company, Wainwright Enterprises, and Tracker headed up security for him.

Chance sipped his beer and found his gaze returning to Natalie. When she glanced up and met his eyes, there was a moment, a long moment, when everything else faded. A heated discussion at a nearby table, laughter from the bar, even the low sound of a saxophone became just a buzz in his ears. The faces of the other two women at the table blurred, and all he could see was Natalie.

Twin sensations assaulted him—a hard punch to his gut and a strange flutter just beneath his heart. No, this wasn’t the reaction he had to just any woman. Why did this particular woman have this kind of effect on him? A part of him wanted to find out; another part of him wanted to run.

The realization had a spurt of panic moving through him. No woman had ever made him want to run before.

“Hey.” Tracker’s amused tone only penetrated when he felt the nudge to his shoulder. Turning, Chance discovered that Lucas had moved to help Mac from her chair. “Our party’s breaking up,” Tracker said. “Mac’s tired so they’re driving home now. Sophie and I are going to walk back to her place. Do you need Lucas to give you a lift back to your hotel?”

“No,” he said as he rose from his chair. It had been years since he’d allowed himself to run away from anything. That part of his life was over. He was flying to London in the morning, but there was one thing he was going to do before he left. Chance moved with Tracker down to the other end of the table.

“Sorry to be such a party pooper,” Mac said, stifling a huge yawn.

“I’m the one who yawned first,” Sophie said. “The last few days have been hectic.” Then she smiled at Natalie. “But you should stay. Chance is an excellent dancer, and the music is good.”

“No, I—” Natalie began as she rose from her chair.

“Sophie’s right on one point,” Chance said. “The music is very good.”

“Please. Don’t let me break up your evening,” Mac said, taking Natalie’s hand and squeezing it. “Stay and have at least one dance. If I weren’t asleep on my feet, I’d drag Lucas out. There’s nothing more romantic than dancing under the stars.”

“What’s one dance?” Sophie said softly as she kissed Natalie’s cheek.

Chance waited until the two couples had taken their leave. “We don’t have to dance if you’re afraid of that Latin beat.”

Natalie’s eyes narrowed as she met his. “I can dance to that if you can.”

It was just the reaction Chance had hoped for. The one thing he’d learned from working with the beautiful detective was that she was never afraid to take a risk. That was his key, he realized as he took her hand and led her toward the patio. If he framed his proposition in the right way, they’d be taking a different kind of risk together before the night was over.

NATALIE KNEW she was making a mistake the moment that Chance took her hand. It wasn’t that he hadn’t touched her before. He was a very physical man. In the brief time they’d worked together, he’d taken her arm, or placed a hand at her back. But he’d never before held her hand. His was hard, his fingers callused, and just the pressure of his palm against hers had little ribbons of heat uncurling up her arm.

The intensity of the sensations had her wondering what it would feel like when he really touched her. And she’d been thinking of that since they’d first met in that art gallery. He’d been a possible suspect in an art theft ring, and it had been her job to keep an eye on him.

Natalie sent him a sideways glance as he made a path for them through the crowd. Keeping an eye on Chance Mitchell was nice work if you could get it.

He was a man any woman would look twice at. He had a long, rangy body that wore jeans and Armani suits with the same careless ease. Hair that looked brown one minute and blond the next. Eyes that were trapped somewhere between a smoky gray and blue. And a face that wasn’t quite handsome until he smiled in a certain way.

But for the three days they’d worked side by side, it was his hands that she’d become obsessed with—hands that held a priceless sculpture or a gun with equal skill. More than once, she’d struggled with fantasies of how those long, clever fingers might pleasure a woman.

And she knew enough about men to know that he was fantasizing just as much as she. The fact that she and Chance had been assigned to protect Sophie Wainwright from a ruthless killer had helped both of them keep their focus. But now…Sophie was safe. The case was over. There was nothing to divert her attention from this man. And she wanted him with an intensity that she’d never felt for anyone else.

Why?

Natalie found part of her answer the moment Chance drew her into his arms. Heat streamed through her and every nerve in her body began to throb. No one had ever made her feel this way, and she knew that this was only a promise of what he could make her feel if she would just let him.

Why was she so hesitant to do that?

“We fit perfectly,” he murmured.

Hadn’t she known they would? She was tall, but he was taller. His chin brushed her hair, and as he guided her across the small dance floor, his thigh pressed briefly against hers. The shock to her system had her stumbling even more closely against him.

“Relax.” His voice was just a breath in her ear as he ran those clever fingers up and then down her spine.

“Just listen to the music and let yourself go.”

Let yourself go. Natalie bit back a sigh as she struggled against doing just that. She’d always prided herself on her control where men were concerned. Two years of working on a D.C. police special task force had given her plenty of experience handling males, both on the job and in the bedroom as well. In the two serious relationships she’d had, her lovers had both been intimidated by the fact that she was a cop, and she’d learned from experience not to invest too much of herself in a relationship.

Instinct told her that Chance was different. He’d have the ability to break her control, and the idea of that tempted her almost as much as it made her wary.

When Chance drew back a little, Natalie barely kept herself from protesting.

“Much better,” he said. “Relaxation is the key.”

Of course, it was easy to relax when her bones were melting. But Natalie kept that to herself. Instead, she made herself focus. “You really do know how to dance. Where did you learn?”

“Here and there. I’ve found it a very useful tool.”

She raised her brows. “Tool?”

Chance smiled at her. “Absolutely. Dancing is the easiest method I know for getting a woman into my arms, and second only to my cooking for getting a woman into my bed.”

Bed. She should have had a quick comeback for that. Or at least she could have snorted. But the image, as well as the way he’d leaned close to her ear to say it, had a fresh wave of desire streaming through her.

The rhythm of the dance changed abruptly, and Chance slid his hands to her hips, pulling her close for one brief contact. Heat flashed through her as she felt the long hard length of him. The lower part of her body burned and melted. “Oh, yes,” one part of her mind said—even as another part said, “Get away while you can!”

But the negative voice in her mind was losing strength, and Natalie suddenly realized that she wasn’t going to play it safe. Hadn’t some part of her made that decision when she’d chosen her clothes tonight?

The admission sent a hot erotic thrill moving through her. A sliver of panic followed. It wasn’t like her to be thinking this way. Just as it wasn’t like her to dress with the intention of tempting a man. As the oldest child—by a few minutes anyway—she’d always been the responsible one, and she’d always had to control that wild, reckless streak inside of her that she’d inherited from her father.

“I want you, Natalie.” The words were nothing more than a breath in her ear, but her knees turned to water. She was suddenly aware that he’d steered her off the dance floor and into a darkened corner of the patio. Potted trees surrounded them; a brick wall pressed against her back. And he stood before her, the heat of his body so close…

“I want to take you to bed, I want to touch you—all over.”

She couldn’t prevent the quick thrill the words brought her any more than she could prevent her heart from beginning to hammer.

“I—”

“No.” He pressed a finger against her lips. “Let me finish. I have a proposition for you. I’m flying to London tomorrow morning. If I’m lucky, the assignment will take three months. If not, I’ll be gone even longer. So there’s just tonight.” He drew his finger down that line of her throat to the vee of her blouse and then down the tiny pearl buttons one by one. She was sure that her heart skipped a beat at each one.

“Spend just one night with me,” he said.

SHE HAD TO SAY YES, Chance told himself. He’d chosen his words very carefully. He always did where women were concerned. One night with no strings was just the kind of proposition that the cool, logical Natalie Gibbs he’d come to know would find irresistible. He figured she was cautious when it came to men because she didn’t want complications.

But as he stared into those cool, green eyes, he couldn’t get a hint of what she was thinking. She had to have felt at least part of what he’d experienced when they’d been dancing—the incredible promise of what they could share. And she had to be experiencing at least some of the desperation that he was feeling right now.

When he saw her lips part to speak, he raised his fingers to rest them there. “Don’t say no. I—” Chance broke off the moment that he realized what had nearly slipped out of his mouth. He’d almost said, “I need you.” And that wasn’t true. Being a little obsessed was one thing, but need?

Taking a quick breath, he spoke around the bubble of panic that had risen into his throat. “Just think about it. When was the last time you had sex for the sheer fun of it—no strings, no complications? No worrying about the morning-after etiquette? C’mon. What do you say?”

For a moment his question hung in the air between them. One night with Natalie Gibbs—that was what he wanted. And he wanted it very badly. That was all. Need had nothing to do with it. Chance Mitchell hadn’t needed anyone for a very long time.

Natalie took his fingers and removed them from her mouth. “That’s your proposition? No-strings, no-complications, no-etiquette sex?”

“Exactly.” Chance made himself stop with one word. Because he was very much afraid that he was going to babble. Worse still, he just might beg.

Her grin was quick and wicked. He’d never seen that look on her face before, and his heart did a little stutter.

“Proposition accepted,” she said.

Chance’s heart stopped altogether.

NATALIE LED the way down a narrow flagstone path to the back of a Federal-style house just three blocks away from the Blue Pepper. Lantern lights hung on either side of the door to her apartment.

She’d never before brought a man here—to her own space. But when Chance had suggested her place because it had to be closer than his hotel on Sixteenth Street, Natalie hadn’t argued. If she was going to give herself over to one night of reckless, no-strings, no-etiquette sex, she might as well do it in familiar surroundings.

Chance had said nothing since they’d left the Blue Pepper. He hadn’t touched her either, but she’d been very much aware of him walking at her side. When she drew the key out of her purse and slid it into the door, he laid a hand on hers.

She turned to look at him then. The full moon poured brightly into the garden behind him, but Chance’s face was caught in shifting shadows. His eyes were dark, and she couldn’t read what he was thinking.

“Second thoughts?” he asked.

The kindness of the question had some of the nerves in her stomach settling. But she’d made her decision, and she wasn’t going to run away from it. Shaking her head, she said, “You?”

“No.”

She led the way into the narrow foyer. After shutting the door with his foot, Chance moved quickly, using his arms and body to cage her against the wall.

“It’s not a night for any kind of thought,” he murmured as he lowered his mouth to within a breath of hers. “Tonight we’re just going to feel.”

Any lingering doubts streamed away in that first touch of his lips to hers. His mouth was firm, but giving, his hands almost gentle as he ran them up her arms and slipped them into her hair. And his taste—there was a dark sweetness there that she hadn’t expected. Natalie had one long moment to take a heady sample of it before he moved in even closer. His body, rock-hard, pressed against her, and she felt her own body soften and yield in response. He nipped her bottom lip then slid his tongue over hers.

Heat, one glorious, scorching wave of it, rushed up and over her. If she’d ever been more aware of a man before, she couldn’t recall it. Everything about him was hard—his chest, his hands, the angle of his hip and the long length of his thigh. Even his mouth had grown harder, more demanding, as if he was determined to find some flavor that she was hiding from him.

It wasn’t sweetness she tasted anymore, but a hungry desperation. Was it his or hers?

And all the while those clever, glorious hands raced over her—tracing the curve of her throat, cupping her breasts, and gripping her bottom to pull her even closer. Fire licked along her nerve endings as one sensation after another pulsed through her. Her body had throbbed before, but not like this. Her heart had hammered before, but not as if it intended to burst right out of her chest.

“More.”

Had she said the word aloud? The question had barely formed in her mind, when he answered it by slipping fingers into the vee of her blouse and ripping it open. Then in a lightning move, he jerked what remained of her blouse down her arms, trapping her hands at her sides.

Vulnerability. It was a feeling she’d fought against all of her life. But Natalie welcomed it now, along with the deeply erotic thrill that shot through her. She’d prided herself on always being in charge—on the job, in bed. Now, as those hard hands moved over her again, she couldn’t remember why she’d even wanted to be in control. When he began to use his mouth on her, she gave herself over to a fresh storm of sensations—the hot, rough texture of his tongue at her throat, the scrape of his teeth at her shoulder. One instant she burned, the next, she shivered.

Someone laughed. She didn’t recognize the low, sultry sound, and then his mouth closed over her breast. Fire, furious flames of it, sped along her nerve endings. There was another rip of cloth as she tore her arms free from her blouse. Then she threaded her fingers through his hair and tried to drag his mouth back to hers.

“More,” she repeated.

Her whispered plea became a drumbeat in his mind as hunger and need tangled inside of him. He’d been right that it wasn’t a night for thinking. He couldn’t seem to grab on to one coherent thought. Nor could he resist returning for one more sample of her mouth.

Would he ever get enough of the sweet, drugging flavor of her surrender, that throaty gasp of pleasure that ended in his name? And her scent—something wild and exotic that made him think of taking her quickly on a deserted, moonlit beach while waves thundered furiously over the sand.

Another second and he would simply drown in her. Drawing back, Chance fought to breathe, to clear his mind.

“Hurry. Please.”

Her words started his blood pounding in his head. Helpless to resist, he covered her lips again with his and plundered. This time it wasn’t sweetness he tasted, but a hunger as sharp and desperate as his own. The hands running over him were as eager and determined to possess as his. The change in her from surrender to fevered urgency swamped his senses, and need sliced through him.

His fingers fumbled as he tore her belt free and sent her slacks pooling to the floor. He ran his hand down her, pushing aside the remaining barrier of silk. Hanging on to a thin thread of control, he lifted his head—because he had to see her, needed to see her, as he slipped two fingers into her heat. She locked around him, and he watched her eyes darken and cloud as she absorbed the pleasure he was giving her. He knew the moment her climax began, and when she reached the peak, it was his name she breathed. The sound sliced through him and sharpened an ache deep inside him, sharper than any he’d ever known.

Even as the last ripples of her climax moved through her, Natalie knew she had to have more of him. Of this man. Of Chance. She pulled his shirt free and tugged at his belt. Together, they struggled to free him of slacks, T-shirt, shoes until the only barrier between them was the thin black fabric of his briefs. Unable to take the time to pull them down, she closed her hand over him.

“The bedroom.” His voice was ragged.

“Here,” she replied.

They dragged each other to the floor. Once they were there, she lost no time. Rolling herself on top of him, she began to explore him with her mouth, using her tongue and teeth on his shoulder, his throat, his chest. She couldn’t get enough. Her heart had never beaten this hard. Her body had never ached this sharply.

Rising to her knees, she straddled his thighs, dragged down his briefs. Hands clamped at her waist. He lifted her clear of the floor, and then she was sinking onto him. The moment he filled her, they began to move. Through a haze, she saw his smoky eyes, locked on hers as he filled her, withdrew, then filled her again. Pleasure, waves of it, engulfed her as they both increased the pace. As her vision grayed, she leaned down to cover his mouth with hers.

“Now,” she murmured against his lips. “Come with me, now.”

In one lightning move, he rolled her beneath him. Then he drove her, drove them both, until together they reached that peak and shattered.