Property Of (16 page)

“What?”

“There are cameras in the garage,” he explained in a deep, hoarse voice.

I looked up and saw the big black glob pointed right at us and I sighed. Good Lord, two seconds longer and I would have been on YouTube under the heading, “Author does research in a parking garage.”

“Nicola, I need you to get out of the car,” Dallas growled. When I looked back at him, I noted his eyes were glowing with intensity, the honey color was a deeper shade of amber, and he was breathing deeply through his nose. Seeing that intensity told me I better get out of the car like he had asked or my ass
would
end up on YouTube. So out I got. Quickly, I might add.

Fumbling with my purse to keep from looking at Dallas, I moved to the driver’s side door of my car and unlocked it. Before I could open it, however, I was swung around and backed into the door. I had about a millisecond to recover before a warm mouth was on mine, and the gasp I’d let out in surprise allowed his tongue to invade my mouth without hindrance.

I was finally receiving the kiss I’d imagined all day . . . and then some.

This kiss wasn’t a branding kiss, it was somewhere between, “Yes, I’ll bear all your children” and “Are you happy to see me or is there something in your pocket.”

When his arm wound around my back, hauling me firmer into his body, I dropped my purse, hooked his neck with my arms, and flattened myself against his chest as he leaned me back against my car. After more than a yearlong drought with no men in my life, and considering he wasn’t just a man, but an honest to goodness man’s man, I lit up like a tree in a forest fire.

There’s something magical about a first kiss. The way the air seemed to buzz around you like Jacob’s ladder electrifying your atoms. The rhythms of your mouths as you drink in their taste. The feel of their lips gently moving across yours, teasing at first, and then deepening as your bodies react to the pheromones you each put off. The push and pull, the groping and moaning as you discover each other and learn what they like or dislike. Dallas liked control, which was apparent in the way he kissed, the way he held me, and the way he wanted my mouth to submit to his.

I was a romantic at heart, but I was also my own woman, one who’d put words on a page one summer and never looked back, determined to be a writer. I took care of myself, managed most of my business myself, and didn’t rely on anyone for anything. I guess you could say I liked control too. But there was something so completely satisfying about giving control over to someone else, to allow them to take the lead, and in this situation, I was more than willing to bend to his wishes and let him lead me where he wanted. And where Dallas wanted me, was trapped against my car.

All thoughts about cameras flew from my mind as I moaned deep in my throat when his hand rode up my side, stopping just below the curve of my breast. His thumb swiped not once, but three times against my nipple, igniting me further, until I couldn’t help but rub myself against his leg I was now straddling. His hand moved from my breast to my ass when he felt me move against his leg, pulling me further into his body, grinding me slightly against his thigh. When I whimpered, because it felt so damn good, he ripped his mouth from mine on a growl of frustration as I panted like a prized racehorse after the Kentucky Derby.

“Jesus, if you kiss like that with your clothes on, I’m gonna retire now and keep you in bed for the rest of my life,” Dallas groaned as he pressed his forehead to mine, catching his own breath. He moved to my neck next and placed tongue touches precisely where I’d feel them most as I tried to calm down, his hands still moving over my body.

“Does that mean you’ll call me sometime for dinner or was that a “see you around” kiss?” I replied with a gasp when he nipped my ear.

“I see you have a sense of humor to go with your brains,” he whispered in my ear.

“You have to with brothers like Bo and Finn.”

Dallas chuckled since he’d met my brothers, then he pulled his head from my neck and kissed me sweetly one last time. When he was done, he moved back, pulled me away from my car, and opened the door for me. I climbed in on weak legs as he bent down and handed me my purse. When I looked up at him, he chuckled and tugged my hair.

“You’d better straighten your hair and clothes before you go anywhere.”

I looked in the mirror after that remark and saw to my horror that my hair looked precisely like someone had buried their hands in it while making love to my mouth, as if I’d been well and truly kissed.

“Guess I won’t be stopping to speak with Father O’Callaghan,” I laughed as I tried to smooth down my hair.

“Probably not a good idea,” Dallas agreed as he leaned into my car and kissed me one last time for good measure. Complete with a lip nip and tongue touch.

It was the best goodbye kiss I’d ever had.

Dallas watched as I started my car and pulled out. He raised his chin in the unofficial man’s man acknowledgement as I waved goodbye. I watched Dallas from my rearview mirror as I drove through the parking garage. He stood there a moment watching me leave then turned on his heels and headed for the elevator. All I could think as I watched his muscular frame walk away was that I had to revise my character’s personality for my hero in “Property Of.” I was way off. Instead of sensitive and caring, he needed to be dark and brooding with a bossy side. Oh, and he had to smell sinful like soap, musk, and sex.

***

The girls all arrived at Gypsy’s within ten minutes of one another, and we’d all gathered in a quiet corner to discuss Melissa’s death, and give our support to Angela.

Shock was the prevailing emotion in our group as we thought about the vibrant woman with the red silk blouse. For Melissa’s life to end that way, made the loss even harder for Angela. Death had a way of silencing you like nothing else can. It leaves you morose, stealing the joy from your life, and replacing it with dark thoughts of “What if.”

What if she had worked the whole day, would that have stopped someone from breaking into her house and killing her? Or, was she targeted by some unknown maniac, who wouldn’t have stopped until he’d ended her life? One could drive themselves crazy thinking about the “What ifs.” However, as with all experiences in life, it too served a purpose. To help you process the loss.

“I’ve never known someone who was murdered,” Angela told no one in particular.

“Did Dallas say how she died?” Kasey asked.

Shaking my head no, I explained. “He can’t discuss the specifics of the case, only what is public information.”

As if on cue, the TV that sat up front on the counter broke into our thoughts as the anchor recounted the top stories of the day. “
Tulsa police don’t suspect at this time that the brutal death of a Tulsa woman is connected to the string of murders that have been dubbed “The Shallow Grave Murders.” Melissa Webster was found Saturday evening when she failed to arrive for a weekend with friend’s out–of-state. Police reported that Webster was repeatedly stabbed in her home sometime Friday afternoon after leaving work. This is the seventh homicide this year in Tulsa, which is down from the same time last year. At this time, Tulsa police have no motive or suspects and are asking anyone with information to call the crime stoppers tip line.”

No one said a word after hearing the gruesome details. Kasey and I, who were sitting closer to Angela, grabbed her hands and held on as she took deep, shuddering breaths to gain control.

“Jesus,” she whispered, blinking back tears.

Kristina looked lost as to what to say, so she went with humor to break the tension in the room.

“So, Nicola, did you play tonsil hockey with triple D, or what?”

Angela burst out laughing, seemingly grateful for something to focus on besides her friend’s murder, and threatened, “I’ll divorce her if she didn’t.”

“I did, you’d have been impressed,” I joked, going with the change of topic for my friend. “I even rubbed myself on him like a common hussy. Are you proud?”

“Aww, Nicola’s all grown up,” she laughed while wiping tears from her face.

“Well, don’t leave us hanging for God’s sake, tell us what happened, and leave nothing out,” Janeane ordered.

Leaving nothing out, as Janeane put it, I told them about the rest of the afternoon. They’d hooted about the criminal I took down and sighed when I told them Dallas had called himself lucky. They were impressed with my make out session in the garage, but couldn’t agree when it came to how to handle Dallas as the relationship progressed. Angela urged me to jump him, Kasey said to take it slow, Janeane asked me why I had to tie myself down to one man, and Kristina tried to explain that if I showed too much enthusiasm he’d back off and keep me guessing.

“Listen to me,” Kristina continued, “men are like that. If they know you’re hot for them they’ll take their time calling just to make you sweat.”

“Kristina, he doesn’t seem like the type to play games though,” I argued.

“Does he like control?” she asked.

“He’s a man that goes without saying” Kasey scoffed.

“Hold on a minute. How would you know, Kris? You’ve been married for eight years,” I reminded her. “Dallas isn’t some college boy with overactive hormones.”

“That’s how Dave hooked me in,” she explained. “I told him, “Call, don’t call, what do I care?” So he left me hanging because he could see right through the lie. By the time he did call, I pounced on him, so his plan worked.”

“Wait, if you told him, “call, don’t call,” then how did he know you were interested?”

“Um, it may have been the text messages I sent him,” she laughed.

“So you’re saying he didn’t call you, because you were too busy texting him, he didn’t need too?”

“Exactly, see how they work?”

Oh, I got it. I got it so much I decided just to smile and do my own thing. Dallas seemed to like that I was honest about what I felt, and he didn’t run screaming from the car when I told him I might have been a tad jealous of his ex-wife. I was positive he wouldn’t play games, which, by the way, is a trait of a real man.

While the girls continued to argue about what not to do were Dallas was concerned, the alarm on my phone went off and I pulled it out. I’d set an event reminder for this evening and gasped when I looked at it. With everything that had happened since Saturday, I’d completely forgotten that I agreed to meet Tom Sheldon, the man I’d chatted with Saturday night on POF, for a drink at Rusty Crane; a bar and grill that was only three blocks up from Gypsy’s.

Hell’s bells.

“Why are you frowning?” Angela asked.

“I, um.”

“What’s on your phone?” Kasey inquired.

Oh, lord. How do I explain this without pissing them off?

“I, uh, I made a date for tonight at Rusty Crane and my phone is reminding me.”

“Why didn’t you tell us? Here we are advising you on how to play it cool until Dallas calls and you already have a date?” Kristina replied.

“It’s with someone else,” I explained, then watched as four eyes widened and then narrowed because they couldn’t’ believe I hadn’t confided in them before now.

Lord, I was in a mess of my own making!

“Ok, here’s the deal—”I got out, but Toni Roseneau, Kasey’s yoga master, interrupted when she walked up and sat down.

“So this is where the infamous book plotting takes place, huh?” Toni replied. “I want to hear all the gory details about this Dark Prince freak Kasey mentioned this morning.”

Saved by the nosey yoga instructor!

“I’ll let the girls tell you all about it, Toni, I have to run. Talk to you later, ladies,” I threw out as I jumped up and got the hell out of dodge.

I couldn’t cancel this late with Tom and I knew it, so when Toni walked up, I saw my opportunity to make a run for it and took it. I was still lying by omission, but I didn’t have time to explain, apologize profusely, and make it on time. I had ten minutes to make it to Rusty Crane, of which I need three, and if I walked slowly, I could kill five of them. Being early was more appealing than having my lifelong friends hang, drawn, and quarter me. I’d just have to tell them the truth tomorrow when we meet back at Gypsy’s, and hope they would forgive me.

Shouts of “Hey, Nic, what gives?” echoed in my head as I walked slowly toward Rusty Crane. Lord, not only am I the world’s worst friend by ignoring my oath, but a part of me felt like I was cheating on Dallas for showing up for this date. Not that we were dating officially, but I’d be a simple minded fool not to believe that wasn’t exactly where it was headed based on what he’d said, did, and how he kissed me today.

“Tangled web, Nicola,” I repeated my mother’s age-old saying as I rounded the corner heading for The Rusty Crane. “And, oh so true, mother,” I agreed.

Ten

Dallas finished filling out the report on Jerome Warner the man Nicole had captured single-handedly. On the run from authorities for the past six months, desperation had led him to a pawnshop. He’d acquired several aliases over the years and was stupid enough to use one when pawning a gun. To Dallas’ way of thinking, most criminals were stupid as hell, so this hadn’t surprised him. Most law-abiding citizens knew a gun dealer had to get your information in case the gun being pawned was reported stolen or used when committing a crime. When the owner had entered his alias information into the system, which they’d tagged, and bingo, they had him.

The kid had gotten lucky he’d taken a chance that Dallas wouldn’t shoot an unarmed man when he’d entered the pawnshop with his gun drawn. He’d rushed Dallas and they’d struggled, but the kid had gotten free when a customer came in. Dallas had let go to make sure he wasn’t being attacked from behind and that’s when Warner made a break for it. He’d then made the mistake of running past Dallas’ unmarked car with Nicola inside, and in a move worthy of a Hollywood comedy; she’d taken him out with the car door. Every time he thought about how she’d opened that door and jumped out calling him a “douche bag” he wanted to roar with laughter. The only thing that kept him from laughing through the whole arrest was the need to get it through her head that brave or not, she was nuts for attempting it.