Unfinished Business (12 page)

 
“Hello, this is Christy. Please leave a message and I will return your call. Thanks!”

Alex hung up the phone. He had already left a couple of messages. When he had arrived in Cincinnati yesterday, he had tried contacting Christy at her office to ask her out to dinner, only to get her voice message that said she was out of town and wouldn’t be returning until early Wednesday. Well, it was Wednesday night and she still wasn’t back.

He sighed deeply as he paced around his hotel room. Ms. Laverne had made sure he understood that Christy didn’t need for him to act as a protector, but hell, he couldn’t help but worry about her. Although a part of him knew that, thanks to her brothers, she knew how to take care of herself, he couldn’t help but remember what had happened with that guy at the nightclub.

As a way to distract himself he decided to turn on the television and see if anything worthwhile was on. He would wear the carpeting out if he continued to pace. Half an hour later when his mobile phone rang, he quickly picked it up. “Yes?”

“Alex?”

He let out a deep sigh of relief when he recognized Christy’s voice. “Where have you been?” He regretted the question the moment it left his mouth.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been out of town working on the Patterson case.”

He heard the edge in her voice and knew the safest course of action would be to back off. “Any new leads?”

“You wouldn’t believe all I’ve found out.”

Her voice was a combination of frustration and excitement. He picked up on both. “You want to talk about it?”

She paused for a brief moment, then said, “Yes, I could use another opinion, but I need to shower first. My return to town was delayed by bad weather in Columbus. Is it OK to call you back later?”

The need to see her was killing him. “I’ve got an even better idea,” he said, checking his watch. It wasn’t nine o’clock yet.

“What?”

“How about if I come over?”

He could hear the sudden catch in her voice before she asked, “Where are you?”

“In a hotel room, here in Cincinnati.”

“What are you doing here?”

Alex smiled ruefully at her question and could imagine her glaring at him through the phone. “I’m here on a mission.”

“What sort of mission?”

“To do whatever I have to do to win back your love.”

There was a long pause. “That’s not possible. I don’t give second chances.”

“I’m determined to get one.”

He heard her sigh. “Look, Alex, it won’t work. And speaking of work, who’s running your company while you’re here, supposedly winning my love?”

“I left a good man in charge.”

Christy frowned. He actually sounded serious. “I meant what I said, Alex. There’s no way I’ll ever love you again.”

“So you’ve said. Have you eaten anything?”

He could picture her standing with her eyes narrowing, not liking the way he had smoothly switched subjects.

“I stopped at a hamburger place earlier today, around noon,” she said.

“Then it’s time to eat again. I’ll stop and get something for us on my way over there. That way you’ll be operating on a full stomach when you tell me everything that you’ve found out about Bonita Patterson.”

Then before she could say something smart about him coming over, he said, “I’ll see you in a little while.” Not waiting for her to respond, he quickly clicked off the line.

When Christy opened the door half an hour later, and saw Alex’s mouth eased into a slow smile, she actually felt her body react. Her breasts tightened, heat pooled between her legs, and her head felt light.

She swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, and knowing she needed to do something with her hands—or else she would be tempted to reach out and snatch him inside—she stuffed them deep in the pockets of her skirt. She cleared her throat. “Alex.”

“Christy.”

She studied him. Boy, did he look good. But Alex had always been a smooth and immaculate dresser. No one else could make jeans and a jacket such professional-looking attire.

But there was something about him tonight, something that made desire shudder up her spine. When she met his gaze, locked on to it, she knew what was different. She had seen wanting and desire in his eyes before. But tonight what she was seeing was fire—fierce, red-hot—burning deep in the depths of his gaze. She shivered at the impact. They had just seen each other Saturday night, four nights ago, but the way he was looking at her, it could have been four years ago.

“Are you going to invite me in?”

His question made her aware of the fact that they had been standing there, as if they had nothing better to do, staring at each other. Her gaze slipped from his eyes to the mouth that had asked the question. He had a sensual mouth that was expert at kissing, and whenever he kissed her, although she had wanted to do otherwise, she had savored each and every moment. And she knew just as surely as her name was Christina Marie Madaris that Alex planned to kiss her at some point tonight, and the thought of him doing so made shivers of excitement and anticipation hum through her body.

“Christy?”

The sound of her name from his lips, lips that she was watching move, intensified the heat that was flowing through her. “Yes, come in,” she said softly, taking a step back when she actually wanted to run for the hills. Alex was too much man for her to tackle, but boy, did she want to tackle him, to the floor, and have her way with him.

She watched as he closed the door. Locked it. Then he turned back to her. He set down the bag he was holding on a nearby table and without breaking a stride reached out and his strong, solid, yet gentle fingers clasped her arm. He pulled her to him, timed it perfectly as he lowered his head.

The first touch of his mouth to hers was light, soft. Then when she automatically parted her lips on a breathless sigh, she felt the tip of his tongue ease inside her mouth. And that’s when he adjusted the pressure, increased the pleasure, and proficiently and unerringly staked his claim.

OK, she would admit her mouth—for the moment—was his for the taking. And boy, was he taking it. She felt hot, the tips of her breasts that were pressed to his chest felt hard, and coils of intense heat were burning her loins. It seemed every part of her was molded to him. Her mouth, her body, her hands. At some point they had come out of her pockets and were rubbing all over his back and shoulders with an urgency that made small whimpering sounds escape her lips. How that was possible she wasn’t sure, since her lips were glued to his and any sound should have been practically nonexistent.

Slowly he lifted his mouth. But that didn’t stop her from darting out her tongue and tracing the outlines of his lips for one more forbidden taste.

“Do you know what I enjoy most about kissing you?” he asked. His voice was low and seductive; the look in his eyes, warm and intimate.

She regretted that her inquisitive mind couldn’t resist asking, “What?”

“Knowing the taste I’ll get.”

He was standing close and his nearness was making her pulse escalate again. “And what taste is that?”

“The taste of my woman.”

His woman!
Of all the nerve!

Before she could think of some blazing retort to fire back at him, he pulled her to him and kissed her again with the same urgency that she felt, quickly wiping away anger and igniting another type of fire. His hips rocked against her and she felt the solid hardness of him in the jeans he was wearing. His tongue probed deep into her mouth, sending her senses roaring, her breast throbbing, and her nerve endings haywire.

Moments later he slowly pulled back, met her gaze, and calmly said, “I bought Chinese. We’ll eat, discuss the Patterson case, and then we’ll kiss some more. Just like I know the taste I’ll get whenever I kiss you, I want you to know the taste you’ll always get whenever you kiss me.”

Christy blinked, and then she tried to get the beat of her heart in sync with the racing of her pulse. At that very moment she was forced to admit one very obvious point.

She was in trouble.

Across the street, the man watched as Christy Madaris let the tall, dangerous-looking man into her apartment. He smiled wondering exactly what they were doing right about now. He noted the time, then watched and waited.

 
Alex finished reading the report Christy had typed into her laptop. A frown marred his forehead. One thing was fact—someone claimed to be an eyewitness to Bonita Patterson’s kidnapping. But what was questionable was the assertion that a Detective Mark Tyler, a member of the Philadelphia Police Department, had gotten killed as a result of digging into this so-called kidnapping ring, the Body Snatchers. If that was true Alex was certain that the FBI would have heard about them, and he had no problem using his contacts within the Bureau to find out one way or the other. However, the most important thing at the moment was that under no circumstances would he allow Christy to put her life at risk by asking the right questions of the wrong people.

“Well, what do you think, Alex?”

He glanced up. Christy, who’d been sitting across from him at the table, had stood up. He liked the way her short skirt hugged her curvy figure and the way her blouse fitted perfectly to her firm and full breasts. At the moment what he was thinking was that any other man would be in her bedroom making love to her instead of sitting here discussing some report. But certain things weren’t meant to be rushed. When the time came for them to make love, he would have earned that right by reclaiming her heart.

He pushed away from the table, deciding he needed to stay in control no matter how alluring she looked. When it came to Christy he could have the honorable intentions of a saint, but still she was temptation at its finest. “I think there are a lot of unanswered questions. The final one is whether or not there was foul play in Mark Tyler’s death when the newspapers claim it was the result of a boating accident.”

Christy sighed. “I’m going to see what I can find out about that.”

Alex nodded. “And I’ll call the Bureau in the morning and see what I can find out about a group called the Body Snatchers.”

Christy stiffened at his offer. Bouncing things off of him was one thing, but having him assist in her investigation was another. “No, Alex, I don’t want you to do that. I like asking your opinion and I appreciate the feedback. But it’s important to me that I handle this investigation without any help from anyone, including you. I want to be the one to follow up my own leads. I need your word you won’t interfere with my work.”

Alex stared at Christy. He had no problem promising not to interfere with her work as long as nothing she did placed her in any sort of danger. There was no way he would not be concerned about her well-being.

“Alex?”

He sighed. He didn’t necessarily have to share with her the fact that her definition of
interfere
was not the same as his. “I told you why I’m here, Christy, and getting involved with your work isn’t the reason. I have more personal matters to take care of.”

He stood and slowly crossed the room, coming to a halt directly in front of her, allowing no more than a mere foot to separate them. “Now with that out of the way, how about if I acquaint you with the taste you’ll get whenever we kiss?”

Christy stared into Alex’s eyes, seeing the flare of desire, the heated intent in his gaze. And then there was that arrogant expression he wore like he knew what he wanted and nothing, not even hell freezing over, would stop him from getting it.

She lifted her chin. “I know what you’re trying to do, Alex, and it won’t work. A few kisses won’t jumpstart my heart.”

He smiled. “I could never give you just a few kisses, Christy. Besides, I know it will take more than that. You deserve more. I plan on hanging around and dating you properly.”

The arrogance of the man! Date her
? If that’s what he thought, then he had another thought coming. There was no way they would start dating so he could forget that.

“I want you, Christy, the way a man wants a woman.”

She drew in a deep breath as his words slid over her entire body like a sensual caress. Almost in spite of herself, desire shivered through her, weakening her defenses, creating a deep longing. His words had been simply stated, so straightforwardly put. She would have given anything to have heard him say those very words that night three years ago. But he hadn’t.

And she was hearing clearly what he was saying now. He wanted her, but he didn’t love her. “I know all about passion, Alex,” she finally said.

He quirked a brow. “And what do you
think
you know?”

“I think you plan to use it to try to seduce me into coming around to your way of thinking. But it won’t work.”

The curve of his lips deepened. “What won’t work? The passion or the seduction?”

“Neither.” She watched his smile deepen as he studied her face. It seemed his gaze moved over every angle and curve.

“I like kissing you and you like kissing me,” he said huskily. “I also like touching you, seeing your reaction to my touch, seeing the hardness in you soften . . . even if it’s only for a little while.”

She didn’t want to admit that kissing him made her feel connected to him in a way she had never thought possible. While in his arms, she felt surrounded by his strength, every part of his being. Whenever they kissed, she was lured to throw caution to the wind, wrap her arms around him, and indulge.

He reached out and placed his hands at her waist. The shock of his touch sent desire quivering through every bone in her body. The warmth of his hands made her muscles melt. His fingers slowly began caressing her waist, gentle, kneading strokes that began heating her, making her even more aware of him as a man.

There had always been something about his strength, the intensity of him. From the first time she had begun noticing the opposite sex, she had admired it, and from afar she had reveled in it to her heart’s content. He had been in so many of her dreams, and as she’d gotten older, the dreams had gotten bolder, more brazen, and definitely more heated. And with each dream came a steadily growing need to become one with him, to feel his muscles beneath her hands while he made love to her, introducing her to lovemaking and becoming the one and only man whom she would ever need or want in her life. Every day, whether distance had kept them apart or not, nothing mattered; her feelings had never wavered or changed.

She swallowed against the sudden pain she felt when she remembered that all it had taken was one night to burst that bubble. He had not hesitated in letting her know that she wasn’t his and he most certainly wasn’t hers.

“Christy?”

She blinked at the sound of his voice and haughtily lifted her chin. “What?”

As if he’d read her thoughts, he said softly, “Don’t let that night continue to stand between us.” He dipped his head and brushed his lips to that chin.

She shook her head and held his gaze. “Why shouldn’t I? You want me to let go and move on. Why won’t you understand that I can’t love you again?”

Alex continued to hold her gaze. Oh, he understood things, all right. He fully understood that he was dealing with a Madaris, a member of a family known for its fierce pride, and this was one unforgiving woman. She was stubborn, proud, and defiant. But another thing about a Madaris—something he was banking on—was that they loved forever. If Christy had loved him before, he had to believe a part of her still loved him, although she claimed otherwise. He just needed to unthaw that frozen section of her heart to rekindle the flame.

“I do understand, Christy,” he said finally. “Maybe it’s time that
you
do.”

He lowered his head and captured her next breath. He deepened the kiss and their tongues meshed, entwined, melded. He was intent on her tasting his desire, his claim to her heart and soul. He would ravage her senses until she knew she only belonged to him.

He pulled back slowly and watched as she sucked in a gasping breath, her eyes growing deep with passion. “Taste me, Christy. When we kiss again, I want you to taste everything about me. I want you to feel how my mouth comes alive once it connects to yours, how hungry my tongue gets, its urgency, its need, and its desire so compelling that you’re the only woman it wants. I’ve made myself several promises, and the first one is that no matter how intense the sexual chemistry is between us, I won’t make love to you until I know I have recaptured your heart.”

Dipping his head, he kissed her again, hungrily, deeply, pulling her closer into his arms, letting her taste him the way he was tasting her. He wanted her to feel what he was feeling.

She pressed closer to him, kissing him back in a way that made him fight hard to control his emotions. He felt her hands on his back, his shoulders. Her fingers moved slowly, sliding over hard muscles, responding to the need she felt in his kiss. She responded to his taste as he drew her into this intimate, profound, and provocative exchange. Deeply. Unhurriedly.

Possessiveness gripped him, adding to his passion, increasing his awareness, and sweeping hold of his senses. She belonged to him whether or not she wanted to accept it. She might think of herself as an unconquerable force, but he considered himself an immovable object. Intent with purpose, destined to have what he wanted.

And he wanted her.

Moments later he slowly pulled back and watched as she breathed deeply, saw the emotions that rolled through her, the same ones that had fed her with his taste, sharpened her need, and suffused her with full awareness. He refused to acknowledge the sudden quake of raw, primitive hunger that gripped him, that wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her again, continue to kiss her, sweep her off her feet and take her into the bedroom and make love to her.

Alex forced away the influx of emotions that was tearing through him. He fought the very idea that he wanted her not just for today and tomorrow but for the rest of his life. Panic seized him at the thought that he wanted forever with any woman. He refused to accept the possibility that he was falling in love with Christy. Love had no place in his life. He quickly pushed the very notion from his mind.

He urged her closer, liking the feel of her breasts brushing against his chest. He enjoyed seeing the way her lips were wet from his kiss. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night,” he said huskily. His fingers stroked the bare skin on her arm, feeling how she shivered from his touch.

She met his gaze. “I’m going to be too busy to—”

“You have to eat sometime, Christy,” he interrupted. The stubborn look she gave him matched his own. “I’ll be by around six o’clock tomorrow. We’ll have dinner, then go dancing. Our first official date.”

He took a step back. He couldn’t help recalling how she had danced for him while under the influence. Now he wanted her in his arms, moving on the dance floor with her full senses intact.

He watched her stare at him, felt the sharpness of her gaze cut into him. Penetrating. Stubborn. “I didn’t say I would go out with—”

He quickly recovered the distance and pulled her to him and kissed her again; the sigh that escaped his lips was one of impatience. The one that escaped hers was laced with annoyance, but he chose to ignore it; instead he was intent on kissing any of her unpleasant thoughts away.

When he released her moments later she appeared too stunned to say anything. To his way of thinking it was just as well. There was nothing else left to be said. As far as he was concerned, the subject was closed.

But evidently Christy thought otherwise. It appeared she refused to give her mouth a rest. Chin up, she met his gaze. Her eyes bored through him when she said, “You can’t assume I’ll do whatever you want.”

He smiled. “Trust me. You’re a Madaris. With you I can’t assume anything. But then, I’m a Maxwell, and Maxwells have been dealing with the Madarises for a long time. We understand each other.” His smile widened when he thought about his brother and her cousin and how they had constantly bickered most of their lives, but how happy they were now as a married couple. You only had to be in their presence a few minutes to feel the love, as well as the heat and sizzle that generated between them.

He chuckled. “And there is one thing that a Madaris and a Maxwell can’t fight.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, tilted her head. “Indeed? And just what is that?”

His hand rose to frame her face. “Passion.”

He leaned down and brushed a kiss across her lips. “I’m staying at the same hotel if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

Without saying another word he turned and departed, leaving Christy standing in the middle of the room, struggling to draw in a much-needed breath.

Alex opened his car door, paused a second, and glanced around. He had the sudden feeling that he was being watched. He frowned, blaming that report Christy had asked him to read for his uneasiness. It had formulated a lot of unanswered questions in his mind, but he would do as she asked and let her solve the puzzle.

As he slipped onto the leather seat of the rental car he was driving, he couldn’t help but smile. Christy had his head spinning and had pushed his libido into overdrive. Her mind was on unraveling the case she was working on, but his mind was definitely on unraveling her.