Hot Contact

She was tempted. Entirely too tempted. But if she accepted his invitation she couldn’t move the relationship into a business one when she needed to. She had no intention of lying to him or stringing him along. She just didn’t want to ask her favor publicly—or in costume. It was too serious for that. The party had been a way to open a dialogue. “I’d love a rain check,” she said.

He studied her for a long time. She made herself breathe.

“Walk me to my car and I’ll give you my number,” he said, standing. “You can call me when the sun comes out.”

She smiled. “All right.”

Joe offered her a hand up. He was probably crazy to pursue her. He should at least wait until his life was back on track, yet he couldn’t help but feel she was part of the solution. Wishful thinking, maybe?

They made their way through the crowded house. He guided her slightly ahead of him with a touch to her lower back, just enough to feel the bones of her vertebrae against his fingertips now and then. She turned and looked at him once, her dark eyes again taking his measure in a way no woman in his memory had. She looked deeply, as she had by the waterfall, without blinking. Did he meet her standards or pass her test or whatever it was she was doing when she looked at him like that?

They reached his SUV. He got a business card out of his glove compartment, wrote his home and cell numbers on the back and passed it to her.

“Something on your mind?” he asked when she said nothing. He curled his fingers into his palms, resisting touching her. He wondered how long her hair was. A year ago it was just past her shoulders.

“You’re different from other detectives,” she said. “I noticed that before.”

“Different, how?”

“Quieter.”

“And not intimidated?”

She smiled. “Do I intimidate?”

“Competence is often intimidating.”

Arms folded, she leaned a hip and shoulder against his passenger door. “I think I’ve been complimented.”

“You have.”

“You impress me as well.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He moved closer, crowding her space a little.

She didn’t budge, not even when he slipped a finger under her strap as he had by the waterfall. He focused on the little beauty mark at the corner of her mouth. “This is very pretty,” he said, kissing the spot. He felt her lips part, heard a soft sound, more than a breath catching, less than surrender. He moved his mouth over hers lightly, brushing his lips against hers, pulling back, making her come to him.

A horn honked. Teenage boys shouted crude encouragement. The only encouragement Joe needed was Arianna’s. When he wouldn’t take the kiss any deeper she placed her hands along his face and held him still.

“You tease,” she said, her voice husky.

“Just making sure of my welcome.”

Her hesitation lasted all of two seconds. “The door’s open.”

He wanted to skim his hands over her incredible body, to feel the weight of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the firm fullness of her rear. He settled for a long, leisurely kiss that she kept trying to deepen and he kept thwarting. He knew he had to leave her wanting more or she wouldn’t call him, so he gave her enough to think about but not to satisfy. Gave himself a lot to think about, too, like what it would be like to make love, a foreign concept to him in the past six months.

He pulled back. She opened her eyes. Her skin was drawn taut over her cheekbones. He let his gaze wander lower as she watched. Her nipples were hard. She arched her back just enough that he noticed the unspoken invitation to touch. He declined, counting on there being another time and a better place.

“Adios,” he said, forcing himself to leave her. He walked around his car and got in, then didn’t look back until he was far enough away that she couldn’t see him glance in his rearview mirror.

She wasn’t staring after him, however, but was strolling back up to Scott’s house, her hips swaying, the ruffled hem intoxicating in its undulating rhythm. She didn’t glance in his direction.

After a moment he smiled. He’d met his match.

Three

Arianna tapped Joe’s business card against her thigh as she stared out her living room window at the typical hazy Southern California morning. She had his home number. Why procrastinate?

Dumb question. Because of last night, that’s why. Because of the kiss. The almost-as-good-as-sex kiss. How could she ask him to help her now? He would think she kissed him to get him interested, to lure him so that he would cooperate. Nothing was further from the truth. She’d gotten carried away—rare for her.

She was also hesitating because she hadn’t yet recovered from last night’s nightmare, the one that had been haunting her for weeks. The one that had spurred her toward Joe Vicente.

Arianna turned from the window and sat at her piano, a shiny, black baby grand that dominated her apartment living room. She tapped out a few random notes, then eased into scales. When her fingers were limber, she played a piece she’d composed, a complex, demanding song still being refined.

After playing the final chord, she sat up straight, set her hands on her thighs and enjoyed the quiet for a moment. Then she talked to herself.

Okay, stall over. Bite the bullet.

She grabbed the portable phone and dialed. He answered on the third ring.

“Good morning, it’s Arianna Alvarado,” she said, as businesslike as possible.

“Good morning back,” he replied, a sound suspiciously like laughter in his voice. “And thank you for being specific. It could’ve been embarrassing if I had you confused with the other Arianna.”

Oh, he knew how he affected her. “The sun hasn’t broken through,” she said, forging ahead, “but I’m inviting you to lunch anyway.”

“Don’t trust yourself to have dinner with me?”

The underlying sensuality in his voice appealed to her way too much. She started pacing. “Yes.”

“Yes, you don’t trust yourself?”

“Yes, I trust myself, but I’m inviting you to lunch.”

“Sorry, but I’m headed to my parents’ house. I expect to be there all afternoon.”

Her heart slammed into her chest. Even better. She could meet his father. Talk to him. “Can I meet you there?” she asked.

A long silence, then, “At my parents’ house?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t usually bring a woman home until the tenth date.”

Like your ex-fiancée? “Will you make an exception?”

Silence again. “Sure, why not?” He gave her the address and directions.