Against the Law (13 page)

That and his tall, blond good looks and his obvious interest in Lark.

Dev told himself it didn't matter. He and Lark shared a sexual attraction, nothing more. Once the itch was scratched—and he was determined it would be—they could both get on with their lives.

He had to admit, the woman had kept his interest beyond anything he had expected. She was intelligent, courageous and caring, and he had come to admire her.

Still, he was a dedicated bachelor, and Lark was a woman who was now raising a kid. He rarely dated single mothers. Fatherhood was nowhere in his plans.

His mind strayed to the little girl with the big green eyes. “Are you my uncle,” she'd asked.

Sure, kid. Better your uncle than your daddy.

But she was really a sweet little girl. If he ever had a daughter, he hoped she would be like Chrissy.

Sitting in the leather chair behind his desk, Dev raked a hand through his hair. Soon his guests would all be gone and he'd have his old life back. Once things settled down and Lark had returned to L.A., he'd give that hot little Tawny Bowers or one of his other lady friends a
call, see if one of them wanted to take off for a few days, head for Sedona, maybe. Or maybe Vegas, see a few shows.

Dev leaned back in his chair, thinking of Lark and wishing she was the one going with him.

 

Lark didn't find time to call Brenda until the next day.

“I'm sorry, Bren, I meant to call yesterday, but so much has been going on… I just… I haven't had the chance.”

“If you hadn't called me today I would have called you. I heard about the murders. I saw it on the news. Is Chrissy all right?”

“She's doing better than I would have guessed. She's still really young. The psychologist says that's a saving grace. Kids that age adapt to new circumstances very quickly.”

“That's great, Lark.”

“She's a wonderful child, Bren. Heather would have adored her.”

“You're keeping her, right?”

“There was never any other choice. Not for me.”

“Do you want me to come over and help? I could bring Megan with me if we came after school. They're close to the same age.”

Lark released a sigh. “I don't know. I'd love for the girls to meet and yesterday I would have said yes, but things are pretty crazy around here right now. My attorney is here and it's a media circus outside, and the police are still coming around asking questions.”

“Sounds crazy, all right. How's it going with the hunky detective? Does he still seem as yummy as he did?”

Lark smiled. “Oh, he's yummy, all right. But with everything that's going on—”

“I get the picture. When are you heading back home?”

“As soon as the custody papers get processed. Which should only be a few more days.”

“I'm really happy for you, Lark. Promise you'll call if you need anything. Even if it's just someone to talk to.”

Lark's throat tightened. “I promise. Thanks, Bren.”

The call ended and Lark sat back in her chair. It seemed as if her life had been turned upside down and still another problem loomed ahead.

How to raise a four-year-old while trying to run a company. Lark had worked hard to build LARK, Inc. into the successful business it was today. She loved what she was doing. She wasn't ready to give up her career.

On the other hand, she refused to put Chrissy in the same situation she had been in before, with a family who mostly ignored her. Or at least, since Chrissy rarely mentioned them, it certainly seemed that way.

She flicked a glance toward the bedroom, where the little girl was taking a much-needed nap. She was still worrying over the problem when Aida walked into the living room.

“I've been thinking about what you and I talked about…how you were worried about working and being able to raise your little girl.”

Lark pushed her hair back from her face. “That's right.”

“I may have an idea that could help.”

Lark straightened. “I'm certainly open to suggestions.”

“I was talking to a friend of mine in L.A. I mentioned you and she said she'd seen the story on TV. I asked her if she might be interested in going back to work.”

Lark's interest sharpened. “What did she say?”

“Marge said she would love to be doing something useful again. She said she would be willing to live in the house with you and Chrissy and act as a full-time nanny.”

“Sounds good so far. What can you tell me about her?”

Aida smiled. Once she got started, she couldn't say enough about Marge Covey, her longtime friend.

“Margie loves kids. She's raised four of her own and put them all through college. But her husband died four years ago and I know she's been lonely. And she could sure use the money.”

Both fifty-five years old, they'd been best friends since high school in Wind Canyon, Wyoming, where they had been born.

Marge sounded like an answered prayer. “When could she start?”

“Tomorrow if you need her.”

Lark felt a wave of relief. She was losing Aida, but she had come to trust Dev's housekeeper and if Aida said her friend was good with kids, willing to live in and help with household chores, Lark was ecstatic.

The way things were going, with Steve staying in the main house to work on the legal aspects of the custody case, in a few more days, she would able to return to L.A. She was eager to get there, excited to start a new life with Chrissy.

Except that every time she looked at Dev, she felt a hollow ache in the pit of her stomach.

She tried not to wonder if he would regret her leaving.

Probably not.

Dev was a man who enjoyed the single life, enjoyed his freedom. She had known that from the moment she had met him.

Still, when she looked at him, she felt as if she were leaving something undone, as if some part of her yearned for something more.

She didn't think it was going to happen.

Not with Steve still there. And there was the time she spent taking care of Chrissy and so much left to do before she went home.

Which was probably for the best.

Still, she couldn't help wondering what it might have been like to make love with him. To find out if there could have been something more.

T
he guardianship proceedings were progressing even better than Dev expected. Three days after Steve Rutgers arrived, a custodial hearing was held. A DNA sample had been taken the day of the murders and, as expected, Chrissy's DNA matched Lark's, proving they were related.

There would be more paperwork to deal with, in-home visits to Lark's condo in L.A. until the final judgment was granted, but basically Chrissy Weller, soon to become Chrissy Delaney, belonged to Lark.

The criminal investigation continued. The sheriff in tended to question the Olcotts/Fellowses in the matter of the illegal adoption, which didn't bode well for the older couple, but with five people dead, there was no longer a way to keep their role in the matter a secret. The attorney, Melvin Keetch, would also fall under scrutiny.

Dev was still waiting to hear back from Riggs. Noth
ing so far. The police had also come up with zilch, just as he had expected.

The good news was, late this afternoon Steve Rutgers had left for the airport. By now he had boarded an evening flight to L.A. Lark wouldn't be leaving until tomorrow, flying back with Chrissy in the morning.

The sun had set, night had begun to settle in, and the house was empty. Town was running errands and Aida was with Lark out in the guesthouse. A storm was moving in, and thunder rumbled in the distance. A smattering of rain beat against the window panes.

Sitting in the darkness in the living room, Dev released a slow breath. Since he'd had no chance to be alone with Lark, he was finally coming to accept the fact that taking her to bed wasn't going to happen. He wondered how long it would take to get over the desire for her that refused to go away.

He stood up and began to pace in front of the empty hearth, wishing Lark were there, wanting to see her, wanting at least a private goodbye.

Just plain wanting her.

Maybe he should go over there, ask her to come back with him for a drink. But what if her thoughts were running in an entirely different direction? Maybe toward Steve Rutgers back in L.A.

Unconsciously, his hand fisted. Maybe he should just forget the whole damned thing and get over this ridiculous hunger that rode him like a raging beast.

A noise sounded on the patio outside the back door and he rose and walked in that direction. He heard it again and realized someone was lightly knocking. Lark
stood on the covered patio, a fine mist of rain glittering on the cherry highlights in her hair.

His pulse quickened. He tamped down a surge of lust, sure she was there for a different reason than what he was imagining.

She smiled. “Can I come in?”

“Sure. Of course.” He stepped back to let her pass. “Getting pretty wet out there.”

She stepped into the kitchen and the soft scent of lilac reached him as she closed the door. She was dressed in low-waisted jeans, a red print blouse and a pair of red spike heels.

She hadn't worn shoes like that since they had returned with Chrissy. Catching a glimpse of hot-pink toe-nails and shapely ankles instantly made him hard.

“I wanted to say goodbye,” Lark said. “And thank you for everything you've done.”

He tipped his head toward the living room. “Got time for a drink?” He couldn't help thinking how good she looked, wishing she didn't have to go back to the guesthouse, that she could stay with him all night.

She nodded. “I've got time. Aida volunteered to babysit. I can stay as long as I like.”

His gaze sharpened and his groin pulsed. “Good. Great.” They walked into the living room, over to the bar along the wall. Lark climbed up on one of the bar stools in front as he walked around behind to fix their drinks.

“What would you like?”

“White wine is good.”

He opened the small refrigerator under the counter. “How about champagne? It's a farewell celebration, isn't it?”

As soon as he said the words, he wished he hadn't. He was going to miss her. It was impossible to deny it.

“Champagne would be wonderful.”

He pulled out a bottle of Dom Perignon. “I'm partial to the good stuff.”

She smiled. “Me, too.”

He forced himself to look away from those big green eyes and juicy pink lips. He popped the cork, took down two champagne flutes and filled each one, rounded the bar and handed her one of the glasses.

“To motherhood,” he said, lifting his glass in toast.

Lark didn't drink. “Tonight I don't feel like a mother, only a woman. I'd rather drink to living life to the fullest. That's something you believe in, isn't it?”

His pulse was beating too fast. God, he wanted to kiss her. “To life,” he said and they clinked glasses and each took a drink.

Lark set her glass down on the bar and so did he. “There's something I want to ask you,” she said.

“Yeah, what's that?”

“Am I still your client?”

His eyes locked on her face. He shook his head, felt a fresh rush of heat to his groin. “No.”

“Will you take me to bed?”

His breath refused to come out. God, he hadn't been able to think of anything else for days.

He captured her face between his palms. “Oh, yeah.” And then he was kissing her and Lark was kissing him
back and it was as if a dam had burst inside him. His tongue slid into her mouth and hers slid into his and they tangled and mated and he deepened the kiss, claiming those lips one way and then another.

He wanted to swallow her whole, wanted to breathe her in, wanted to taste every luscious inch of her.

He walked her backward till they reached the sofa and both of them tumbled down.
Take it easy,
he told himself. But he didn't want easy. He wanted to rip off her clothes, wanted to see that glorious body he had been lusting after so long. He wanted to part her legs and bury himself to the hilt.

Lark made a funny little sound in her throat as he deepened the kiss, then frantically attacked the buttons on his shirt. He undid her blouse and dragged the material off her shoulders, reached down and unfastened the clasp on the front of her pink lace push-up bra.

Her breasts spilled free. Lovely breasts that tilted upward, small rose nipples that hardened into stiff little buds.

He forced himself to breathe. “God, I want you.” Lowering his head, he took a tight little tip into his mouth, laved, tasted, suckled, took more of her, heard her tiny mew of pleasure.

She tugged his shirt out of his jeans and shoved it off his shoulders, ran her hands over the muscles that tightened wherever she touched.

“I love your body,” she said, pressing her mouth against his chest, trailing moist kisses across his abs as she reached for his belt.

Dev groaned. Pushing her hands aside, he unbuckled
it and unzipped his jeans. Lark slid her arms around his neck and kissed him again, deep and wet and hot.

Jesus.
He was hard as granite, filled and near to bursting, and he hadn't even gotten her out of her clothes.

“God, I need you,” he said, aching and so stiff he throbbed with every heartbeat.

“Help me.” She kicked off those red stiletto heels, unzipped her jeans and shoved them down over her hips. He tugged them off and tossed them away, helped her out of her blouse and bra.

For an instant, he paused, looked down at her in nothing but a shocking-pink thong that barely covered the tight dark curls at the juncture of her legs. “You're even more beautiful than I imagined.”

She laughed softly, leaned up and kissed him.

Dev toed off his loafers and slid off his jeans, grabbed a couple of condoms he had stuck in his pocket just in case his wet dream came true. He tore open a foil packet and sheathed himself, came down on top of her on the sofa and settled himself between her long, pretty legs. Kissing her deeply, he reached down and parted her sex, began to stroke her, felt how wet and hot she was, how slick and ready.

“I promised you a massage all over,” he said between soft nibbling kisses. “Maybe we should—”

“No! Oh, please, Dev, I don't want to wait that long.” She reached for him, positioned him at the entrance to her passage.

“God, I don't want to wait, either.” And he drove himself home.

Tight, wet, hot. Heaven. He was exactly in the place he wanted to be. Nothing in his life had ever felt better than this.

 

Nothing had ever felt so good, so perfectly right, Lark thought. Dev was big and hard and he filled her completely.

“Don't move,” he warned. “I've been waiting too long for this.”

She cupped his face between her hands and kissed him, couldn't resist just a little wiggle.

Dev hissed in a breath. “Naughty girl. You're asking for trouble. You'd better watch out.”

Oh, she felt naughty, all right. And hot. So incredibly hot. She wiggled again, arched up to take more of him.

“Dammit!” Dev drove deep, kissed her hard as he lost control. He moved, started pounding into her, taking her fast, deep and hard, carrying her to the brink and beyond. Ecstasy rushed over her, prickled her skin, sent her careening off the edge.

A low moan escaped as she came. Pleasure rushed through her and she tightened around him, felt his hardness pulsing inside her. Every muscle in his powerful body went taut, his head fell back and his jaw clenched as he reached his own release.

Long moments passed, their bodies still joined, perspiration gleaming on their skin.

“Christ,” he whispered, then finally relaxed against her, careful to keep most of his weight on his elbows.

He bent his head, touched his forehead to hers. “You didn't play fair.”

Lark just smiled. “All is fair in love and war. The same goes for sex.”

He kissed her lightly but thoroughly. Lark started to
move, to get up from the sofa, but Dev lowered himself against her, pinning her where she lay.

“Not a chance.” Bending his head, he captured her lips again, tasted her with his tongue.

Lark's eyes widened as she realized he was still hard.

“A little more slowly this time,” he said, “then we'll move to the bedroom.”

She moistened her lips. “All…all right.” She felt boneless and replete until he started to move, slowly this time, sliding in and out, stirring the sensations, rebuilding the fire that had burned through her body. She arched upward, took him deeper.

“Oh, yeah, that's my girl.” His voice rang with approval as he nipped the side of her neck. “And we're only getting started.”

Lark whimpered.

“A nice slow orgasm, then we get into bed and I give you that nice long massage I promised, see what happens from there.”

Her blood rushed. Goose bumps tingled over her skin. She felt his deep easy rhythm, felt her body begin to tighten and realized she was ready to come again. Dev caught her wrists, dragged them over her head, ministered to each of her beasts. Another long, wet kiss and he thrust deeper, eased out and thrust deeply again.

“Oh…oh…oh.” A fresh climax hit her, but Dev didn't stop, just kept up the sensual rhythm until her body tightened, sprang free again.

An instant later, his muscles clenched, his jaw clamped, and he followed her to a powerful release.

“Oh, my God,” she said as she started to spiral down, thinking nothing had ever felt so amazingly good.

“Yeah” was all he said.

 

Dev carried her into the bedroom. Lightning flashed outside the window, lighting the room, followed by a huge crack of thunder. Both of them naked, he settled her on the bed, and true to his word, spent the next half hour driving her crazy with a sensual massage.

Using his hands and his mouth and those lean, powerful muscles, he made love to her as the storm raged outside. They slept for a while.

At four in the morning, she awakened with Dev's hard length inside her, bringing her to another slow, deep climax.

The storm finally abated and they slept.

Lark opened her eyes at six and yawned, feeling battered and boneless and wonderful. Dev slept peacefully beside her and she fought an urge to wake him, make love with him one last time.

Instead, she eased from the bed, made her way down the hall to the powder room to rinse the sleep from her face and get a drink of water. In the living room, she searched for her scattered clothes, found them strewn about as if they'd been tossed by the wind.

She was holding her bra and thong panties in one hand, her jeans and shirt in another when she heard Dev pad into the living room.

“You aren't leaving?” He stood there naked, his chest wide and muscled and sprinkled with curly dark chest
hair. His stomach was flat and ridged with muscle, the most magnificent male specimen she had ever seen.

Her eyes swept over him, caught the roughness of the late-night beard along his jaw, and her stomach contracted. “You know I have to go.”

He shook his head. “Not yet. We still have time before it gets light.”

A lump rose in her throat. She didn't want to leave. She hadn't thought it would be so hard to say goodbye.

She could barely see his eyes in the darkness, wondered if she was imagining the yearning she saw in their amazing blue depths. Her heart pounded as he walked toward her, bent his head and captured her mouth in a scorching kiss. He tasted like toothpaste and man, and the clothes fell from her hand as she reached for him, slid her fingers into his thick dark hair.

Dev kissed her deeply, backed her up against the wall, and her arms went around his neck. He kissed her and kissed her, kissed her until she was weak with need and so hot she felt faint. Something crinkled in the darkness and she realized he had opened a condom. He paused just long enough to sheath himself, then he lifted her, wrapped her legs around his waist and thrust himself deeply inside.

“I need you,” he whispered as if they hadn't made love for hours, as if he couldn't get enough.

Lark moaned.

“I want you.” Again and again, he drove into her, taking her deeply, branding her in some way.