To Trust a Stranger (28 page)

Mrs. Leiferman waved in answer, and turned to look searchingly up and down the street.

“She's a friend of my grandmother's, and the biggest gossip in Charleston,” Mac said under his breath as he unlocked his door. “She probably came outside just to get a look at you. Next time I go see Grandma, I guarantee you I'll get the third degree.”

He whistled for Josephine, who true to his prediction came trotting up, then herded Julie and Josephine inside. Mrs.

Leiferman was still on her porch, Julie saw, and she was once again looking their way.

“The neighbors spy on you for your grandmother?” The notion was so irresistibly charming that Julie gave up on being annoyed at him and smiled.

“She used to live in this house, and they used to be her neighbors. I bought it from her five years ago when she decided to move in with her sister and I got divorced. I haven't done much to it, except get rid of some
bric-brac
. My grandfather's old '55 Chevy is still parked in the garage. Anyway, Aunt Rose sold her house just a few weeks ago that's when I got custody of Josephine-and she and Grandma moved into a retirement home together, but she still keeps in touch with the neighbors.”

“I think that's sweet.”

The house was just as she remembered it, Julie thought as she walked inside: cool and dark and pleasantly shabby. The curtains were drawn to keep out the worst of the afternoon sun. The couch and chair and TV were just where they had been before. The big difference was that newspapers and magazines no longer cluttered the floor by the chair. Looking closer, Julie discovered a pile of reading material stacked high on top of the TV, and her smile widened. Pet training seemed to be working: Josephine had obviously taught Mac to keep things off the floor.

“Yeah, well, you don't have to live with it.” Sounding more disgruntled than ever, Mac closed the door behind them, shutting out Mrs. Leiferman and the street, then took off his sunglasses, placing them on a nearby end table. His gun, extracted from somewhere behind his back, followed the sunglasses. Meanwhile, Josephine looked up at Julie, wagged her tail as if in a doggy version of excuse me, and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

“By the way, you can forget about trying to pick a fight with me,” Julie said to Mac over her shoulder. “It's not going to work.”

“Darlin', I don't know what you're talking about.”

Mac came up behind her. Julie was just opening her mouth to say something-she could never afterwards remember exactly what, when his arms slid around her waist from behind and his hands covered her breasts.

Sheer surprise caused her to stiffen and glance down even as the sight and feel of his hands flattening over her breasts sent fiery pinwheels of desire tumbling through her veins.

“Okay,” he said, his breath stirring her hair, his body big and hard and swoon-making as it pressed against hers. “You got what you wanted. We're all alone. If you're still bound and determined on that revenge fuck, I'm your man.”

Something about his tone-to say nothing of his approach-told her that he hoped to anger or shock her into declining.

And, Julie reflected as she stood motionless for a moment while his hands tightened and squeezed provocatively, if she hadn't figured him out well enough by this time to realize exactly what he was doing, he might just have succeeded.

But she had.

She turned in his arms, slid her own arms around his neck, and took a moment to assess the situation. Her bare arms looked tanned and slender and graceful draped over the gaudy, parrot-filled palm trees growing up his rayon shirt. His tee looked very white indeed against the bronze of his throat. The breadth of his shoulders and the solid feel of his chest against her already sensitized breasts dazzled her. Even though she was wearing heels, the top of her head didn't quite reach his nose, and again she was reminded of the sheer size of him. He was frowning as he looked down at her, his brows drawn closer together than usual, his mouth still a little grim.

In Mac's case, Julie decided that grim was sexy. Actually, Mac was sexy, no matter what mode he was in. If grim was all she could get, she would take grim.

“So start taking off my clothes,” she said, a tiny smile curving her mouth as her gaze locked with his. “And, later, don't forget the part about making me scream.”

His eyes flared. Then his arms, which had been curved loosely around her, shifted so that his hands were gripping her hipbones. She got the sense that he was getting ready to put some space between them, and tightened her arms around his neck. “Damn it, Julie,” he began, his frown deepening so that his brows all but met over his nose. “You're cute when you're grumpy,” she said.

“Cute?” He sounded revolted, and she had to grin. Then she did her best to forestall further conversation by the simple act of going up on tiptoe and pressing her mouth to his. Kissing him like this just because she wanted to was such a luxury, she thought as her lips made the first butterfly contact with his. It signified that their relationship had taken a whole new turn. Above and beyond the blazing sexual attraction that was making her toes curl, there was an easy intimacy between them, a friendship, a caring, that she suddenly treasured. Being with Mac like this marked the beginning of a whole new chapter in her life, she realized with a feeling very close to wonder as her lips molded themselves coaxingly to the warm firmness of his and her tongue slid inside to beg his to come out and play. Even under the circumstances, doing this with just anybody wouldn't have been a possibility for her; he could call it a revenge fuck if he wanted to, but the truth was that the only man she wanted to sleep with was Mac. Just like the only man she wanted to kiss was Mac, and kiss him she did. His tongue was soft and hot but resistant at first as she touched it with her own. Her tongue prodded his, stroked it, and finally managed to draw it into her mouth. She nibbled the rip, sucked on it, and suddenly his fingers dug into her hipbones so hard they hurt and his tongue woke up and filled her mouth, taking the play into her court with a vengeance. She'd meant the kiss to be brief, no more than the merest tease, but with his response a wildfire ignited between them and the kiss took on a life of its own. When she finally pulled her lips from his because she absolutely had to breathe, she looked up at him to gauge the kiss's effect. There were unmistakable signs that it had been a rousing success: his jaw was set, a flush had risen to stain his cheekbones, and his eyes were smouldering as they met hers. “Julie.” His suddenly hoarse voice bore no relation to his usual drawl. His fingers still gripped her hipbones hard. “This is a mistake.”

Not what she had expected. Julie narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you, a reluctant virgin?” She gave him another of those tiny smiles, pressing closer against him so that her soft curves were flattened against the solid, tantalizing length of him, and threaded her fingers through the short crisp strands of hair that covered the back of his skull. She looked up at him through her lashes-being a former beauty queen had its practical uses, she actually knew how to do things like that-and fluttered them at him flirtatiously. “Don't worry, I'll be gentle.”

“I'm serious here.” He sounded grimmer than ever, but his voice was thick, and Julie realized that the war was won even as he fought conceding. For whatever murky reason-professional ethics? gentlemanly scruples? a truly commendable distaste for getting involved with a woman who wasn't yet divorced?-he was trying to resist what he badly wanted to do. Fortunately, from her point of view, he was failing. His gaze was hot as molten steel on her face as, belying his words, his hands abandoned the beach head of her hipbones to slide slowly around her waist. His arms tightened, pulling her so close that she could feel every hard contour of his body. Even through the layers of their clothes, the heat and brawny strength of him made her tingle.

To say nothing of the impossible-to-miss erection that prodded her abdomen just below her navel.

“I'm serious, too,” she said softly, her parted lips reaching toward his again. “Make love to me, Mac.”

His pupils dilated, turning his eyes almost black. He inhaled, then made a little hissing sound as he released air through his teeth. His face tightened, throwing the chiselled planes and angles into sharp relief. Then his head bent, moving so slowly that her parted lips trembled in anticipation. His warm breath feathered across her skin. Her breathing quickened. Her lids closed. Her heart gave a great, shuddering leap. She wanted him so much she felt woozy from just thinking about it, and, she realized, such intense wanting felt wonderful. It had been a long time since she had wanted anything this much-so long she couldn't remember when.

Then his lips found hers, and she quit thinking altogether as he kissed her.

Julie sighed into his mouth, tightening her arms around his neck, and kissed him back for all she was worth. He owned this kiss, controlled it, and she revelled in the hungry fierceness of it. His mouth slanted over hers, hard and hot and demanding, as his tongue claimed her mouth. One of his hands slid down her back, tracing the curve of her spine.

Julie felt a tug, heard a faint but distinctive sound, and realized with the tiny part of her brain that was still capable of registering anything outside of that blistering kiss that he was lowering her zipper.

Her knees went weak.

Cool air touched the bare skin of her back in the wake of his hand, and she shivered. He must have felt the slight tremor. Even as his hand came to rest at the base of her zipper, flattening on the small of her back and pressing her closer yet to the urgent evidence of his desire, he lifted his head to look at her. His eyes were ablaze with passion, and his breathing was uneven. Her body was plastered to his, so close she could feel every long muscle and bone and sinew of his body-and every telltale thump of his heart. It was beating fast, like a runner's, and she realized that hers was racing, too. Straining against the unyielding wall of his chest, her breasts felt heavy and swollen; her nipples puckered against the suddenly too-confining fabric of her bra. A hot quickening in her loins seemed to spiral through her body, turning her blood to liquid fire as it spread.

He simply stared down at her for a moment without speaking, his eyes heavy-lidded and so hot they made her tremble as they moved over her face. She knew her skin was flushed, knew her eyes were wide and slumberous, knew her lips were parted and damp and clearly eager for more. There was no hiding how turned on she was, and anyway, she didn't want to hide it.

This was Julie time, she reminded herself. From now on, what Julie wanted, Julie was going to do her best to get. And what Julie wanted most in the whole wide world right now was-

“Mac.” His name emerged scarcely louder than a breath.

“Last chance to change your mind. “He sounded as if he was having to work to keep his voice steady. His hand was already sliding inside her open zipper. Her gaze fluttered over his lean jaw with its faint suggesting of bristle, touched on the sensuous curve of his mouth, admired the classic lines of his cheeks, the straight nose, the blue eyes, the blond hair.

“Not on your life.” She shook her head, shivering as the pads of his fingers stroked warmly along her spine. Her knees had been weak before; now they were pure Jell-a.

Their eyes locked. His were hard and restless and nearly black with wanting her. One hand caressed her bare back possessively; the other still lay flat on the lilac linen at the base of her spine. She could feel it just above the flare of her bottom, pressing her close. Julie moved, tilting her pelvis against him instinctively, then caught her breath as his body responded with a sexy move that sent undulating waves of desire rippling down her thighs.

“Remember you said that.” There was a warning note to his voice. Then she completely lost the thread of the conversation as he dipped his head. His mouth was hot and wet as it found the sensitive skin of her shoulder, then moved lower and crawled across her collarbone, nudging aside the loosened bodice of her dress. Goose bumps sprang up in its wake, and she moved against him again. Without warning his head came up, and he reached up to grasp her wrists and pull her hands from around his neck. He kissed first one palm and then the other, his eyes gleaming at her over her hands, then let go of her wrists and reached for her. Julie held onto his waist for balance and watched his face as he slid her dress off her shoulders. His gaze had shifted to the skin he uncovered, and he looked intent as the handkerchief-fine cloth slid down her arms. Before he could bare more than her shoulders and the upper slopes of her breasts, though, Julie stopped him by pressing one hand flat against the sliding front of her bodice.
 

“Wait.” She shook her head at him.

He looked up then, meeting her gaze with a frown. She took a deep breath,
martialed
her wits and her knees, and stepped back out of his hold. He let her go without protest, although his mouth tightened as if to do so was an effort. His hands dropped to his sides, where they curled into fists as if he would prevent himself from reaching for her.

Julie smiled at him. “Let me,” she said.

At that his eyes flickered and flared and then seemed to ignite, but he didn't say anything. Taking silence for assent, she let go of the front of her dress and gave a provocative little shimmy. The fragile linen dropped with the faintest of rustling sounds to the floor. Then, still watching his face, she stepped out of the lilac puddle and nudged it aside with her foot.

For a moment she simply let him look, shaking the heavy black mane of her hair back from her face, keeping her back straight and her chin high. Her lips were parted as she breathed through them, and her hands rested lightly, sensuously on her bare thighs.