Veiled Seduction (5 page)

He’d wondered, when he first saw her through his peephole, what was up. She’d been wearing her hair loose, a shiny fall of black down her back. Her lips had looked slick, as if she’d applied some sort of gloss. Her eyes were lined with kohl, and they looked dark and mysterious.

Plus, she’d been revealing more skin then he’d ever seen her show off. The red tank had brought out the highlights in her dark hair, her toned arms left bare. The denim skirt had been short, hitting at mid thigh and showcasing a long expanse of tanned brown legs.

God, he loved those legs.

Idiot that he was, he hadn’t even considered that she’d been seduced by his new image like the others. He’d been so pathetically happy to see her. He grimaced as he limped his way to the living room and sat on the couch. Lifting her had been a mistake.

His erection, though, didn’t care about any pain in his leg. His cock hadn’t displayed so much as a twitch of interest around those other women. Let Maira strip her top off in his kitchen and then grind against him on the kitchen table, however, and he was ready for a party. He shuddered and pushed his hand below his loose sweatpants to curl it around his aching cock. Just once. He’d fantasize about this woman just once. Hell, the few times he’d done it before, it had been rushed, in his dreams, accompanied by the slight tinge of guilt over thinking of his friend in such a way.

Now, though, she’d thrust herself front and center into his fantasy, literally in the flesh. He didn’t have to sneak the occasional guilty look and wonder what she looked like under those baggy cotton scrubs. She’d emblazoned herself in his mind in Technicolor. Christ, her full breasts were in perfect proportion to the rest of her long, strong body. They’d spilled out over the top of that black lace bra. Her skin color was naturally darker than his everywhere, but not her breasts and belly. The heavy mounds and slight roundness of her stomach had been pale and soft.

He stroked his cock rougher, twisting just under the head. He swallowed, still able to taste her nipple in his mouth. She’d been so sweet, a mixture of cherries and her own unique taste. He should have pulled his sweats off right there and stroked his cock between those luscious breasts, dragged it down her stomach, yanked the black silk panties off and…

With a hiss, he came, his orgasm long and potent. He gasped when it was over and rested his head against the back of the sofa.

One last time.

He’d forget her now. Her appeal had been her direct honesty, her intelligence, her sweetness, not just her looks. He wasn’t a man who could be controlled by his cock. If his brain wasn’t into a woman, he simply couldn’t work up the energy to want her. Plus, he could hold a grudge like no one’s business. His family might call that a flaw, but he considered it a blessing.

Yeah. He’d forget her. That was that.

Sasha couldn’t get the damned woman out of his mind.

He’d thought of her strong features and mobile mouth as he’d tossed and turned in bed all night.

He’d dreamed of kissing up her toned legs as he worked some therapy on his bad leg in the afternoon.

He’d imagined her licking his belly as he showered and dressed.

He’d fantasized about her long, strong body as he’d tried to avoid backing over a reporter with his truck.

He’d tasted her nipples in his mouth as he made an abrupt but legal U-turn to shake the persistent cameraman behind him.

Bad enough if he was just thinking about Maira sexually. But no. By the time he was sitting on his sister’s couch, playing with his niece’s toes, Sasha had started replaying every conversation they’d ever had.

“Stop it,” he muttered.

His niece grinned at him, revealing a row of tiny teeth. “Unca!”

He smiled back, unable to stay too grumpy with the chortling little girl in his lap. As much as he loved Leyla and Mason, the real reason he hadn’t refused to come to dinner tonight was because of Ash. He’d managed to fend off Leyla since he’d come home, despite her initial alarm over his flight from the hospital and her increasingly demanding phone calls that she be permitted to come over and take care of him. He appreciated his sister’s love, but he’d needed to be alone, with his own thoughts and company for a while. Unfortunately, that meant he’d gone without his niece as well.

Ash squealed when he pulled her tighter against him in a sudden hug. He gloried in the way her soft little body snuggled trustingly into his. In reality, it may have been only six days since he’d held her last—the day before the shooting, in fact—but it felt like a lifetime. Her pigtails tickled his nose and she leaned back to study him with big black eyes and a toddler’s delight and curiosity.

His sister entered the room and smiled at them both. “I think it’s bedtime.”

“Bedtime!” Sasha scoffed and cuddled Ash closer. “I just got here.”

“You got here over two hours ago. You got to feed her, dress her after her bath, and play with her. Trust me when I say it is most definitely bedtime.”

He pulled back and studied Ash with a mock frown. “She doesn’t look tired.” As if the baby was in cahoots, she blinked angelically. Her eyelashes were so long, sometimes he wondered how she managed to keep her eyes open.

“Please. You weren’t here earlier. Her schedule’s been turned upside down and she’s at the point where she’s stupid tired and making Mommy crazy.” Tiny and petite, Leyla perched on the arm of the chair. As frazzled as she sounded, she still looked tidy and put together in a pair of trim jeans and a button-down shirt.

“Are you giving your mommy trouble, Ash?”

“Yes!”

He looked at Leyla, who rolled her eyes. “It’s her new favorite word.” Despite her light tone, Sasha couldn’t miss the slight tinges of blue beneath her eyes.

A shot of guilt went through him. Of course Leyla was tired. She treated him more like a child than a sibling, a result of losing their parents young. Fretting and worrying were second nature to her, and he’d given her plenty of reasons for both lately. He’d been selfish over the past couple of days, dodging his sister, when he knew it would make her feel better to fuss over him.

At the very least, he could help her now. “Come on, Ash. Time for bed?”

Ash knew what bed meant. Her perfectly arched brown eyebrows drew together in a fierce scowl and she shook her head. “Yes.”

He grinned. Her coloring and delicate size was from her mother, but her contrary nature came directly from her father. “Where’s Mason?” he asked his sister as he hauled himself up from the couch.

“He’s finishing up our dinner. I can put Ash in bed, why don’t you sit?”

“No, no problem.” He was relieved when she didn’t object, though managing the toddler and his cane wasn’t the easiest thing to do. He carried his niece down the hall until he got to her room. He felt as he always did when he came in here, big and clumsy. Nothing made a man feel more ill at ease than dancing ballerinas, tiny white furniture and all-pink sheets.

Sasha lay her down on the toddler bed and shook his head when she sat back up promptly. “No, Ash. Bedtime.”

His heart tugged when she looked up at him in mute entreaty. He knew that Leyla was worried that Ash didn’t talk as much as other kids her age—she went to some Nazi mommy-and-me class where the children hit milestones like genetically engineered robots—but his speech had been delayed as a kid too. Ash was fine. She got her point across when she needed to.

Giving in, he ignored the pain in his thigh and knelt on the floor to gently tuck her into bed. When her head lay on the pillow, he stroked his hand over the silky curls. His hand alone spanned her entire head.

It could have been her.

In a few years, she’d be attending school. She’d be sitting at a tiny desk, struggling to work through her alphabet when some madman could walk right by and open fire.

Sasha dropped his head and stared at the colorful rug. He’d have to go see a shrink, he knew, department mandated. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he was looking forward to it. He needed someone to help him get the images of the crumpled little bodies out of his mind.

Yeah, he was no hero. The media wanted to build him up as some selfless, brave guy? His hands had been shaking when he had leveled that gun, his stomach churning. Hell, their county crime stats were generally limited to narcotics, prostitution and burglaries. Very occasionally they had a murder. For it being Florida, a high-crime state, they were in pretty good shape.

No one could predict the crazies, though. Where they lived, when they would snap. That was the scary part, the part that made life terrifyingly unpredictable.

A flexing beneath his hand made him look up. He lifted his palm off Ash’s head to discover her sucking at air, her cupid bow’s mouth flexing around an imaginary pacifier. He stroked his finger down her cheek and left the room, careful to leave her door open a crack.

He heard Leyla and Mason’s low voices as he entered the dining room. They stood with their heads bowed together, talking about something intense. Though he knew he should announce himself, he stood there for a minute looking at them. As he watched, Leyla lifted her hand and rubbed it over her husband’s arm.

He’d behaved badly when he’d discovered his big sister and best friend were falling in love with each other. Part of it had been his natural protectiveness of Leyla, but another part, the part he was still slightly ashamed of, had been a fear of loneliness and separation from the two most important people in his life. It had always been the three of them against the world. Leyla and Mason hadn’t ever intended to exclude him, but when they’d come together, started a life together, it had inevitably happened. Since their wedding day a little over three years ago, he couldn’t help but be aware of a nagging sense of…loneliness.

That’s what made his disappointment with Maira even harsher. He’d never met a woman with whom he’d thought he could find what his sister had. Except Maira.

Stop thinking of her. God, why was it so hard?

Sasha cleared his throat loudly. “Hey, something smells good. What’s for dinner?” He’d meant the words to be a light distraction, but now that he considered it, something did smell good. He sniffed again. Familiar, a blend of spices that tugged at something hidden in his memory.

Leyla beamed at him. “You’ll see. Dinner’s on the table.”

He looked at the empty kitchen table. “It is?”

Leyla gave him a slight push. “The dining table, silly.”

“We’re eating on your dining table? Wow. Is it Thanksgiving?”

“Shut up, smartass. Move.”

He walked into the dining room and sat down at one of the chairs. He took in the barely used table, set with Leyla’s nicest china, and looked over at where she was sitting down across from him. “What’s going on?”

“What? Can’t we have a nice family dinner?”

“This is too nice.”

“You always were a suspicious child. Can’t a girl just be happy to be having her brother over for dinner?”

He opened his mouth to retort something sufficiently smart-alecky when he noticed the slight strain around his sister’s eyes. “Yeah. Sure.”

When Mason spooned up the thick stew and placed the bowl in front of him, Sasha blinked. “Is that khoresht?”

Mason placed a full bowl in front of Leyla, who murmured her thanks. “Yup.”

Sasha leaned in close and inhaled the scent of tomatoes, split peas and onions, mixed with a variety of other spices he couldn’t begin to name. He hadn’t smelled it since he was sixteen. Once a week until she died, his mother had made the stew.

For the first time in days, he was eager to eat something, and he spooned up a bite of lamb and potato. He had to close his eyes when the flavors hit his tongue. Holy crap, it even tasted like his mother’s. He’d been to Persian and Middle Eastern restaurants all his life that hadn’t been able to match that taste. All of a sudden, he was sitting back in his childhood kitchen, watching his mother’s smooth face as she stirred a steaming pot, tendrils of dark hair curling against her cheeks.

He looked at his brother-in-law. “How did you make it taste like hers?”

He didn’t need to elaborate any further. Mason shrugged. “I just tried to remember what I used to see her put in. It wasn’t that tough.”

Mason had practically grown up in their house, but Sasha didn’t think any teenage boy would have been paying attention to what their best friend’s mom was making for dinner. He made a skeptical noise.

“He made four batches yesterday, to get just the right mix,” Leyla said quietly. She gave her husband a look filled with love.

Mason’s high cheekbones reddened and he cleared his throat. “She’s exaggerating.”

Sasha put down his spoon. Leyla and Mason hadn’t even lifted theirs. Leyla’s fingers were fiddling with her fork while Mason played with his glass of water. They had both lost weight, he realized. He swallowed. “Guys, it was just a scratch. I’m fine, really.”

He felt more than a little wretched when his sister’s eyes filled with tears. “It could have been worse. You’ve never been in real danger.”

“This kind of thing is one in a million. You know this town. Hell, the biggest danger I’ve been in before was a rowdy kid or an angry wife beater.”

“I know that.” Leyla sniffled. “My brain knows that. My heart is just hurting at the thought of you going back on the beat.”

Sasha stifled a smile. His sister loved cop terminology. “I won’t be going back anywhere ’til I get the all-clear.” Which would take longer than just the time it took to recover from his injury and get the okay from the investigators and psychiatrist. Thanks to the positive press, the captain couldn’t truly reprimand him for his renegade actions, but Sasha’d spoken with the man this morning and been informed it would be best if he took a few extra weeks of his saved-up vacation time. The “to think about what you did” had been left unsaid, but it had been heavily implied.

He reached across the table and squeezed Leyla’s hand. “When I do go back, I need you to not worry. I can handle myself. Even if something like this happens again, I’m still going to be the one who’s standing at the end. Okay?”

Leyla gave him a watery smile. “Okay.”

“In the meantime, you guys need to stop treating me like I’ve returned from the grave.” He thought of Maira. “I’ve about had it with people treating me like I’m someone different.”

Mason cleared his throat and blinked rapidly. He clapped Sasha on the shoulder. “It was just hard on your sister. Bear with her.”

Sasha pursed his lips, happy for the opening. “Just her? Dude, you saying you didn’t slave over a hot stove for me?”

“Ah, hell, you know Leyla can barely boil water. If Ash is going to learn anything about her culinary heritage, it’s going to have to be through me.”

When Leyla tossed a dinner roll at her husband, the tension in the room broke. They settled in to eat, and Sasha was relieved to note some of the wet gleam vanish from his sister’s eyes the more time passed.

Sasha wiped his mouth with a napkin and settled back in his chair, letting out a gusty sigh. “Man. That was some good stuff. I’m glad you’re making my sister such a good wife, Mason.”

Mason topped off their wine and set the empty bottle down. “Ha. You are so damn funny.”

“Seriously, I don’t think she appreciates you enough. Leyla, when was the last time you took this guy out for a night on the town?”

“If it’ll make you feel better, maybe I’ll show him exactly how much I appreciate him once you go home tonight.” She paused. “Was that too vague? I meant in bed.”

He scrunched up his face. Only half the disgust was feigned. The only thing un-sexier than his sister having sex, would be, like…no, there was nothing un-sexier.

Unfortunately, Mason smelled fresh blood. He leaned in, his face glowing with delight. “Yes! Make him hear all the dirty things I do to you. Oh wait, no, I think it’s my turn to be tied up tonight…”

“No!” Sasha clamped his hands over his ears and glared. “Enough. Fine. Truce.”

Mason laughed. Leyla was more dignified, but she gave a slight smirk as she stood and picked up her plate. “Are you finished?”

“Yeah. I can get it.”

“No, sit.”

He was full enough and tired enough to listen. He slumped back in his chair, relaxed for the first time in days.

“Did Maira come by yesterday?”

His sister’s innocent question zapped all of the relaxation out of him. “What?”

“Maira?” Leyla looked through the pass-through of the kitchen as she ran the water over the dishes. “She said she was going to try to stop by.”

He made a noncommittal noise, determined not to let either of them guess anything.

“What?”

“Yes. She came by.”

The water shut off, and Leyla came back into the room, drying her hands on a towel. A slight frown knit her brows together. “Why did you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“With that tone.”

“I said four words, Leyla. I didn’t have a tone.”

“Sweetheart, you’re right. I’m pretty sure I heard a tone too.”