Dash of Peril

And to say it about Dash? Logan’s brother. Logan, one of her best detectives.

Again, who cared?

Dash was at the sink, Oliver winding in and around his legs, when Margo came in. The muscles in his broad back caused a deep furrow over his spine. His shoulders flexed as he filled a carafe with water.

She wanted to eat him up. “There you are.”

“Making coffee.” He glanced at her, did a double take on her expression, dipped his attention over her whole body, then looked away. “Take a seat.”

Instead she propped a hip against the table and watched the play of muscles in his biceps as he got out coffee mugs. Visually she traced his gorgeous upper body down to his sexy tush. She couldn’t help noticing the remnants of a tan, especially where the low-hanging soft cotton pants exposed a paler strip of flesh at the bottom of his spine.

One little tug on that drawstring and the casual covering would drop to his ankles. She warmed and her heartbeat accelerated.

Unfortunately he wore boxers, too. She slightly lifted her left arm, and winced. Still too painful for much use.

So he’d just have to strip all on his own. She could watch.

And enjoy.

“I figured you might want something to eat, too,” Dash said, still not facing her. “Soon as the coffee is done I can—”

Moving forward, Margo caged him up against the cabinet and leaned into him, her cheek against his warm back and her right arm circling around him, her fingers splayed over his washboard abdomen, toying with that tantalizing trail of hair that went down, down...

Lord have mercy.

Dash froze. “Margo—”

Overwhelmed with need, she lightly bit his shoulder blade, licked his sleek, warm skin and felt him shudder.

“You shouldn’t—”

“I can’t resist.” She kissed a path to his spine.

Very gently Dash turned in her hold. “You have to stop that.”

“No.” She leaned into him again, brushed her nose against his solid, lightly furred chest. Could a man possibly smell better than Dashiel Riske? Impossible.

Her nerve endings sparked and a heavy pulse beat of heat settled between her legs. Knowing he didn’t want to hurt her gave her the advantage. “Now, about that kiss...”

He threaded his fingers into her hair. “You’re loopy again, lady.”

Nuzzling her nose into his chest hair, she said, “Just a little. But if you’ll recall I wanted you before the pain pill kicked in.”

“You’re not yourself.”

“You have no idea who I really am, so how would you know?” No one really knew her. Not her family, certainly not anyone at the station. Only the few one-night stands—

“Time out.” Frowning, Dash cupped her face, looked deep into her eyes. “What does that mean?”

Ignoring the discomfort of her elbow, she snuggled into him again. His chest was wide and solid. She gave a low sound of appreciation. “I want to touch you all over.”

“Shit.” He pressed back farther, put an inch of space between them.

“All this teasing,” she told him, “just adds to the urgency.”

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, looked around the kitchen and asked suddenly, “What’s up with your mom?”

Because she didn’t want to talk about her parents right now, Margo used her good arm to wave that off. “She was past due for her cocktail, probably. Around five o’clock every day she needs a few drinks to keep it together. The longer she has to wait, the stiffer and colder she gets. Sometimes Dad insists she have a drink just so she won’t crack.” Closing in again, she put her nose to his neck. Ah, God, he smelled so good. She kissed a small path toward his nipple.

“Enough, Margo.” He clasped her waist and stepped her back a little. “This isn’t happening.”

Oh, yes, it was. She needed it. “Will you help me with another bath?”

“No.”

“Fine. Guess I’ll have to take care of things on my own.” With that threat made, she went down the hall to her bedroom, aware of Dash following along. She opened the closet door, and cringed at the loud creaking of the hinges.

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, Dash tracked her every move. “That sounds like a horror movie.”

“I’ve been busy,” she explained. “I need to hire a handyman.” That spurred her imagination and she turned to Dash. “Wanna play the handyman? You’d look pretty good in a tool belt...and nothing else.”

He slowly shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Something was different about him now. He no longer looked determined to avoid her. In fact, he looked...predatory.

She breathed a little faster. “Spoilsport,” she said, but a shiver sounded in her tone.

“I didn’t know you wanted to play.” Eyes narrowed, Dash studied her. He must have liked whatever he saw, because he moved away from the wall. “I think I understand now.”

Oh, how he said that... “Understand what?”

His tone changed. “I’ve decided you do need a bath.”

“You decided?”

His jaw flexed and his gaze bored into hers. He held out a hand. “Come along, Margo.”

His autocratic manner had her taking one step toward him before she faltered. Sudden nervousness—and excitement—held her in place. “Why the change of heart?”

He watched her just long enough to get her pulse tripping. “I’ve decided that you’ll be easier to deal with after you’re more relaxed.”

Easier to deal with? “I thought you were worried about me getting the splint wet.”

At her continued hesitation, his dark eyes glittered and a slight knowing smile curved his mouth. “You won’t hurt yourself because I’m going to take care of everything.”

A tsunami of heat rushed through her. “Everything?”

“Everything you need.”