Shadows of the Past (11 page)

So, she’d missed the first time?

Her second attempt was more successful as she wiggled her toes into the space between the cuff of his pants and his leg.

She leaned back in her seat a little and beamed at him, catching a reflective glint in his eye that she hoped to turn into the single-minded gleam of this afternoon.

The next sip of wine went down real well as she inveigled her toes somewhere around calf level, going by the hard muscle they were massaging.

There was a wry twist to Franc’s mouth as he asked, “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Letting her eyelids droop, she sent him a burning look that always worked in the movies. “Am I that obvious…? No, I take that back. Am I sing?”

In no time flat he turned the tables on her by capturing her foot and pulling it into his lap. His fingers were magic.

Who knew feet could be so erotic? Who knew he could give such a good foot massage? Who knew anything anymore?

As she sighed into her wineglass, it occurred to her that she hadn’t grown up until she’d met the big gorgeous guy opposite her four nights ago. And she definitely hadn’t known anything so sexy existed. Combined with what Franc was doing, the next sip of wine burned, making her eyes blur as the view from the window out over the harbor took on the shimmering shapes of a mirage.

They had a corner table without too much foot traffic to disturb them. She smiled at her little double entendre. If it hadn’t been for that, she doubted she’d have attempted to distract his thoughts that way. On second thought, then she wouldn’t have known what she’d been missing.

Her eyes were half-closed and she whimpered softly under her breath as his thumb pressed a spot in the middle of her sole that took her halfway to heaven. He chose then to reverse his former question. “Am I seducing you?”

“Oh yeah, big-time.”

“Are you seducing me?” The wineglass she’d been hiding behind came down onto the table, clenched in her hand for balance as he pulled her forward in her seat and slipped her foot between his thighs. “What do think? Are you succeeding?”

The heat invading her sole was a sure sign that something was happening. She tried an exploratory maneuver, flexing her foot, but all she revealed was her inexperience. Franc gasped aloud.

“Tell me I didn’t hurt you.” She slid her foot to the floor. When she finally found her sandal, it felt like ice in comparison to the hot steel of his erection. “I guess this is one of those things that should only be practiced by consenting adults in the privacy of their homes.”

As he grinned at her, she privately thanked her stars that she hadn’t hurt him too badly. “If you’re taking votes on that, you’ve got mine.”

“Do you think it will take a lot of practice to get it right?”

He swallowed as if the huskiness in his throat bothered him. “I certainly hope so. In fact, I insist on it.”

Maria couldn’t help a flush suffusing her face and neck as their server arrived. She was stung by the thought of what would have happened if he’d arrived a few minutes earlier.

He cleared their entrée plates away. “Would you like to see the desserts trolley?”

“What about it, hon, want something sweet?”

The server forgotten, she licked her lips and pouted, watching Franc’s eyes darken. Her expression was a touch on the wicked side as she said, “I think I’ll wait until we get home.”

“Just two coffees, please.”

Alone once more, he leaned across the table and grasped her hand. “And we’re never going to be able to go home if you don’t cut that out. I didn’t wear a jacket

She giggled, she couldn’t help herself. “I never knew seduction could be this much fun.”

He picked up her hand, and in front of what seemed like God and the whole world, he kissed her palm and she felt more like crying than laughing, it touched her so deeply.

Touched her to the heart.

Keeping hold of her hand when he’d done, he linked fingers with her. “Fun is good. I want you to be happy. But let’s change the subject until we find some of that privacy you were talking about. You start.”

“Why were you so angry when the cops wouldn’t come out and fingerprint my bedroom?” She’d seen the tight control he’d kept on his exasperation, but after three solid days in his company, the clues to what made him tick—or ticked him off—were more easily recognizable.

She received a brief demonstration of the latent power in his hands as his conjoined fingers tightened on hers. “I wouldn’t call it anger, dissatisfaction would be closer to how I felt. In my position, I’m used to getting results, action, when I call for them. For that cop to tell me they had enough cases of breaking and entering on their hands without coming out to one where nothing was taken… Well, let’s just say it wasn’t conducive to good public relations.”

He let go of her hand as their server arrived with two dark and delicious smelling cups of coffee. She looked into Franc’s eyes and noted the similarity in color. “I’ll take mine black,” he said in reply to her silent communication with the cream jug.

For herself she poured a liberal amount of cream into her cup first. “I can’t drink it black, too bitter for me.”

“Talking about which, you’re the one who should be bitter about that cop’s laissez-faire attitude.”

“But you didn’t think to mention Randy to the cop monitoring the phones at the police station.”

“How could I, with no proof? When I think of Searle coming into your room, touching your stuff, lying on your bed, the sheer gall of the guy really burns me up.”

She took the flames licking at the back of his night-dark eyes as proof that Franc would be as passionate a fighter, as an impassioned defender of weaker mortals, as he was going to be a lover.

With a snort, he tossed back coffee so hot there was no guarantee it would put out the fire in his gut. “You’ll be glad to know your plan succeeded. I no longer feel the urge to drag you onto the table and ravish you in front of the other diners. However, I can’t give you any guarantee it won’t happen again, so let’s get the hell out of here while I still can without disgracing us both.”

She tilted her cup and drained the last drops of creamy rich coffee. “I’m ready when you are.”

He grinned as he stood up and came round to pull her out of her seat. The heat of his body was like a living thing enfolding her. He leaned closer. His breath feathering across her neck, teasing the loose stands that had escaped the complicated knot she’d tied before leaving his apartment.

“I love it when you talk sex don’t need it, hon. A look, one sweet glance from your pansy eyes, is enough to turn me on.” The roughened timbre of his voice, a low growl, crashed through her head like thunder, followed by a lightning strike down her spine that spent itself through the soles of her feet.

Not even the brush of his fingers on the skin her dress left bare could earth her in this dimension. With Franc she would never experience plateaus, only heights she’d never dreamed of ascending.

“Whew.” Franc shook his fingers as though burned. “If you’re going to react like this to everything I say, we’d better get out of here and catch a cab home. That tabletop is looking more and more inviting.”

The restaurant was on the second floor, the first flight of stairs reasonably bright. Once round the corner, it was a different story. Franc noticed the lamp had been smashed, leaving a scattering of glass sparkling in the glow of the street lamps.

“More vandalism.” He shook his head, remembering how many times Stanhope Electronics had been the victim of a gang of spray-paint taggers. “Careful where you put your feet, those sandals you’re wearing don’t give much protection.”

“I’m being cautious, but my night vision’s not the best.”

He positioned himself one step lower than Maria. “Take my hand. You don’t want me having to kiss your toes better.”

She chuckled. “I don’t know. I could live with it.”

As soon as he heard her throaty laughter, he swung round. Face-to-face, the big sexy close-up before the kiss. Yeah, he was going to do it, he couldn’t wait any longer. With an excess of dark moody lighting, his focal point as he drew near became the luminosity of her eyes. Like black moths on a moonless night, racing to keep ahead of a squall, the dark fringe of her lashes fluttered then gave up and closed as his mouth sought hers. He sighed, finding the still, heartfelt peace before the storm threatening to erupt inside him.

She tasted of coffee, rich, full-bodied, sweetened with need and want, with a sprinkling of yearning to make it uniquely Maria. Forking his fingers through her hair, he held her head still and plundered without undue haste, savoring the moment, the flavor he’d discovered he couldn’t get enough of.

Her hands splayed across his back, slipping down to hook in his belt as they swayed against a hurricane of their own making. He lifted his head as a fire engine roared past in the street, filling their dark cave with a cacophony of sound and flashing lights, red, white, red.

With the truck’s passing, the quiet deepened, thick as the darkness enveloping them. He knew they ought to be on their way. That there would be no satisfaction to be found here for either of them, but he didn’t resist as her arms drew him back in. Didn’t resist as she whispered, “More.”

“One last kiss,” he promised, his mouth seeking hers.

Out of the black unlit corridor leading to the seafront side of the building, glass snapped, splintered under a heavy foot, a sound he might never have noticed while he was enthralled by the sensuality Maria spun around him.

had barely stopped echoing before he lifted her onto the same step as him. In a harsh whisper, he confided, “I don’t think we’re alone down here. Time to break camp and get out of this spot.”

The door shuddered as he slammed it back against the wall, sprang back as he hustled Maria into the street first. The back of his neck prickled as if an unseen hand ruffled his hair, and reminded him how she’d said she’d known she was being watched. He took the edge of the door on his shoulder, swung round and did one last search of the dark maw opening into the corridor. Nothing moved, not even the air, but he knew by the same preternatural instincts Maria had tried to explain that someone was hiding in the passageway, watching.

T
oo impatient to wait for the elevator, Franc ha
d half carried, half chased her to the top floor. Maria wasn’t sure if it was the climb to the fourth floor that had winded her. Or whether the excitement, anticipation and inexplicable fear stole her breath.

Laughing, Franc whirled her into his apartment, one hand clasping hers as he spun her out then reeled her back in, catching her against the hard muscles shaping his chest, all while heeling the door shut with a decisive click.

He bent his head to hers, angling it to nuzzle her neck. His breath coated her ear in moist warmth that sent tremors down her spine.

“Mmm, I needed that, hon. Could our cabbie talk or what?”

“I think he was practicing his English on you. And it was sweet of you to let him.” She tilted her head sideways, meaning
“try here,”
meaning I love it when you kiss this spot. Her humming senses found a higher note as he played on the cord at her throat until she wanted to scream with delight.

“Sweet be damned. He was lucky it’s only a fifteen-minute trip to Birkenhead Point or I would have jumped in the front seat with him to hold his foot to the floor.”

Placing one finger over his lips, she murmured, “Hush now, big guy, slow down. Remember what I said about enjoying the moment you’re in? Well, this is that moment.”

If Franc replied, it was through murmurs of appreciation as he explored a spot that made her beg for more.

Although her focus was becoming blurred by sensation, she bit down hard on her bottom lip before losing all sense of being, and existed only as an extension of Franc.

Should she continue or take it for granted he’d know how she felt? No, she was used to being clear and concise with the technical data she handled. That was the way to go. “You need to know it’s a moment I’ve waited on for a long time. Twenty-seven years to be precise. So, I don’t want to be rushed, I want to be taken care of, cherished. If you can’t promise me that…maybe I’d better sleep in the room where you shoved my bags before we went out to dinner.”

A serious expression cloaked his features and banked his desire to hot coals that shone red in the dark depths of his eyes. “I promised you we’d have this time,, as well. We’ve lost four days already, and although your family were nice folks, you’re the one I want to share this time with.”

Slowly, he brushed her hair back from her face. “I promise not to rush you.” Carefully, he cupped her face in his palms and tilted it toward him so there was nothing in her line of vision but him, nothing but Franc. “I promise to take care of you.” His forehead rested on hers and he softly rolled it from side to side. “I’ll care for you like you’ve never been cared for before.”

Her focus centered on his lips as he spoke, concentrating as much on how he said the words as on what he said. “And you have my promise that for all the days we have left, I will cherish you.”

Then he kissed her and she believed him.

Franc considered himself a man of his word. He’d settled many deals with little more than a handshake and never let his side down. He wouldn’t let Maria down, either.

Starting as he meant to go on, he slipped an arm under her knees and lifted her off her feet. Guided by the light from the hall, he left the glare of the overhead light for an occasion when she was less nervous and carried her into his bedroom. There, he laid her on the bed, kept the ambience soft and mellow in the hazy pool of light from his bedside lamp.

While his fingers sought the lamp switch, Maria’s worried at the bedcover, rubbing the rough slub-threaded texture that transformed the silky terra-cotta fabric from feminine to masculine. Twenty seconds from the front door to the bed and already she was in way over her head, out of her depth.

She watched Franc loosen his tie. The designer-silk knot slipped over his head and landed on a dark rust tub chair covered in tweed. Her eyes widened as the top buttons of his shirt gave way to hair-roughened skin. Sure she’d seen it—no, felt it before in the dark. It wasn’t that. Watching him pull the shirt out of his waistband, a fist of apprehension slammed into her. She was going to have to strip, take off all her clothes and lay her body and all its awful scars open to his perusal.

She couldn’t do it, not yet. “I have a nightdress in my bag.”

“I know. I saw it before, you brought the lacy chemise.”

“I already had it packed.”

A wry curl twisted his lips as he undid the last button and let his shirt hang open. Franc felt himself harden; grow harder still as her huge dark eyes surveyed his chest. The one thing he’d never let slide while immersed in his work was his fitness, and Stanhope Electronics had a staff gym he often made use of as his mind pondered weighty questions to do with the project that could make or break his advancement.

“At this juncture, it’s not really necessary,” he decided, before the promise he’d made Maria shouted in his ears. “But if it makes you more comfortable, I’ll go get your bag.”

She was standing by the door of the en suite when he returned. Her glance flicked from him to the bag. She held out her hand. “I’ll change in here. I should brush my teeth and take down my hair.”

What a woman. He held back a grin. “Your hair wt take long, I’ve managed to demolish most of it, and as for cleaning your teeth? I like how you taste, so don’t worry.”

He shook his head and let loose the grin as she edged farther back into the en suite. “I like the coffee flavor on you. It reminds me of hot nights and even hotter sex. Mint is more of a morning taste, but with a bit of luck we can make it last until then.”

The grin morphed into a full-throated chuckle as her skin flushed, so she shut the door in his face as if to block off the sound. He was still smiling as he tossed his shirt on the chair, undid his waistband, and then remembered the condoms he’d bought in the men’s room at the restaurant. Hauling open the drawer, he slipped them in the corner nearest to the bed and pushed the box he’d had for a while to the back of the drawer.

Likely past their use-by date.

By the time Maria reappeared, he was down to his shorts and had thrown back the bedcovers. Backlit, the lace chemise hid nothing from his eyes. He liked how her narrow waistline flared into the silhouette of her hips, could have spent a lifetime looking at her seemingly endless legs. Then she switched off the light, and as if through a network screen, her skin shimmered, pale, alluring and tempting beneath the lace.

Her hair skimmed her shoulders in swaths of polished ebony, smooth and untouchable. He wanted nothing more than to muss it up, as if all that perfection was too good for him, far too good for Franc Jellic, for the son of Milo, the bent cop.

The drug dealer’s son.

“You look beautiful. Like a goddess.”

Maria swallowed down the temptation to say, “So do you, like a Greek statue, I mean.”

Though the light behind him cast most of him in shadow, a glow kissed his shoulders and arms as if he’d been built in homage to an ancient god, so prized they had cast him in gold. How could all of this be for her?

A few days ago the idea would have been inconceivable.

But statues couldn’t move closer, as Franc did now, or hold out a hand for her to clasp. It was almost too much. In a rush, she said, “I’ll take the other side of the bed.”

The panic was all her fault. She should have gone with the flow, let Franc undress her instead of changing in front of the wide en suite mirror, picturing his horror when he saw the view she did. She should have waited until she got him on the bed and asked him to turn out the light. She still could.

It piqued her that his smile was so knowing. That she’d given her nervousness away the second she opened her mouth.

“Uh-uh. That’s not how it works. It’s not time for bed yet.”

“But my—?” She brushed the backs of her fingers down the lace skirt of her chemise that flirted with her knees.

“Looks absolutely stunning. I can’t wait to take it off you.” She didn’t back away as Franc thought she might when he stopped in front of her and lifted the hand she’d used to signal her consternation. He kissed the quivering knuckles, glimpsed uncertainty in her eyes as he looked down. Without her sandals, the top of her head didn’t even skim his chin. “I’m going to kiss you. We’ve kissed before and I know you liked it. It won’t be any different than it was then.”

Her bottom lip quivered, but he sensed the underlying humor even before she spoke. “We weren’t naked before.”

His laughter poured over Maria and lifted her courage. “We’re not naked now. Just heading in that direction. Don’t worry, I said I’d take care of you and I will. We won’t advance until you say you’re ready to move on.”

Franc was as good as his word. Even before he slipped her onto the bed, she was a trembling mass of wants and needs that lived only for his touch. But she hadn’t lost all sense of self-preservation.

His mouth was hot and damp on her skin and the lace lying between both added a new element to the experience. Her skin sang in pleasure at the treatment, and at the juncture of her thighs she felt hot and strange as if she were melting.

Her breasts grew tight under his ministrations and she pouted as he moved on from them, lower, swirling his wet tongue into her naval through the lace, sliding her chemise higher, higher, baring her to his mouth.

That’s when panic dashed her with cold water and cooled the heat in her blood. She pushed at his hands. “No.”

He took his weight on his elbows. His head lifted, revealing the puzzle in his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you, hon. I just want to make it easier on you, take care of you just like you asked.”

“It’s not that I dislike what you’re doing, but…can we do it with the lights out? I tighten up all over at the thought of you looking at me close up.” She was being less than honest. What made her skin creep was the thought of Franc looking at the scar on her belly that ran down from her navel into the dark curls and cross-sectioned the curve of her belly. She imagined disgust on his face when the dimpled scar was revealed. Unlike the others on her breasts, the wound had been deeper, left open too long before needle and thread had drawn the edges together.

Maria nipped at her bottom lip. Had she spoiled the moment? Did he have the patience to cope with her inexperience? It was one thing wanting to be like other women in her age group, who knew how to handle guys like Franc; it was a different proposition entirely, putting it into practice.

To her relief, he simply said, “No sweat, I can fix that for you. There’s something I’ll need from the drawer soon anyway.” He moved away, smoothly extracting a foil packet that he held between his teeth as he swamped the room in darkness. Her heart did a little
kerplonk
in her chest as she heard the foil rip.

Life as Maria Costello knew it had suddenly become dead serious.

His hand slid under the silver-gray pillow he’d earlier fanned her hair over, running through the strands with his long fingers. She’d loved the feel of them in her hair, loved knowing her libido was more sensuous than she’d given herself credit for.

With the bedroom in almost total darkness, it took Franc’s vision a few moments to adjust. He hadn’t drawn the curtains across the large windows, had no need to with his fourth-floor apartment being well above the roofs of his neighbors, but soon became aware of the pale glow of the street lamps meltto the room. They were aided by the lights from Chelsea Sugar Works that lit up the sky to the north of his apartment, and shimmered gold on the waves of the bay from dusk to dawn.

Now was as good a time as any to get rid of his shorts. The soft breeze from the air conditioner brushed over his hot tight flesh, but instead of cooling him down, the weight of his arousal grew. He twisted round on the edge of the bed. He could just make out the black silk of Maria’s hair against the pillow, but his ears hadn’t picked up the scrape of lace moving against her skin. “Sit up for me, hon.”

“Sit up?”

“Yeah, since the dead of night is taking care of your modesty, we might as well remove the little lace number.” He felt the mattress give as she pushed up, then he reached for her. “Let me give you a hand. That’s it, easy does it. I’ve got the hem,” he said then. “Darn thing’s snagged in your hair.”

“You weren’t calling it a darn thing when you kissed it all over,” she whispered as she took over and untangled the lingerie. He heard the chemise land somewhere on the bedcover, soft as a butterfly.

“What if I did? It wasn’t because I have a fetish for lace. No way, lady, it was knowing you were inside it.”

His forearm brushed against her breast as she started to lie back down. He stopped her with, “No, stay. Come here, come closer to me. That’s it, let me feel your breasts against my chest with nothing separating them.”

No sooner said, and she knew she wanted it too. Wanted him to feather the soft hair on his pecs across nipples that had beaded into tight whorls as soon as he’d suggested the idea.

The sensation was more than she’d anticipated, more than she’d hoped for. Her basic knowledge of what happened under the sheets when two people wanted each other the way she and Franc did, with both mind and body, took a leap in the dark.

Her breath escaped through a pouted, “Oh.”

She wanted this man with every fiber of her being. Dangerous knowledge when he’d only promised her a matter of days.

Her head whirled from a combination of male musk mixed with spicy aftershave. That, and the delightful dance his hands did on her back, round and round, mesmerizing, hypnotizing.

Daring, she leaned closer and licked the skin below the jut of his collarbone. Intrigued by the taste, she tried again, lower this time, her hand fighting to squeeze between two hot bodies melding into one. She moaned her delight as the tip of her finger found the flat round penny of a male nipple. It was no smoother than hers. She swallowed down the excitement of her latest discovery. “I didn’t know this happened to men, too.”

Leaning back to give her space, Franc shifted his hold from her long smooth back to her breasts. Had it only been two nights since he’d first held their weight in his hands? It felt as if he’d known the shape of her forever. “So now that you know, what are you going to do about it?”