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Michael found himself fighting the overpowering sense that he had to have this woman. Had to sink himself all the way to her core. To know what that felt like, meeting her at her deepest level.
But his interactions with her thus far had been nothing but lies. As soon as she found out the truth, all the invitation he saw in her eyes would be gone.
“Am I being too forward for you?”
“No! Hell no.” He sat frozen in place, while his penis bounced with the bubbles, reminding him that it was there and had gone without attention for a painfully long time.
“You’ve probably already figured out that I have no idea what I’m doing.” The woman made his situation more difficult with every word she uttered.
She was beautiful. And from what he’d seen, completely unpretentious. None of which mattered.
The fact that he was interested in her, feeling things like regret and concern mixed with the sexual attraction, was what had him off his game.
“Don’t worry. I won’t take advantage of your low moment,” he said, trying desperately to keep them on course.
Or get them there.
“That’s not what I meant.” Her gaze was knowing and clear as she looked at him. “I don’t have as much experience as you would probably expect when it comes to relationships with men.”
He’d never met anyone like her. Innocence and knowing all mixed up together. He had to stop this.
“I don’t have any preconceived notions about your experience.” Not that he’d be opposed to finding out just how experienced she might be. She’d been married after all.
But he had to expose his lies and get on with the job.
“I haven’t been on a date in over a year.”
“I find that hard, if not impossible, to believe.”
“I know, right? I just realized how long it had been this afternoon, and I don’t know if that makes me more pathetic or less.”
“So I’m your first attempt to fix your pathetic dating state based on newly realized self-knowledge?”
“No. I don’t need a man in my life. I just need...”
Sex? Something more? He needed her to finish the sentence.
He hadn’t had a date since Shelley’s murder.
Which made them two thirtysomething adults who had both been...without...for an unnaturally long time.
Making them mutually needy?
“You need a little...diversion?” His voice was low. Rough. It was man-turned-on-in-spite-of-knowing-better.
“Maybe...”
Her eyes were slumberous as she turned her head. And for a split second, he was on this date with her—not a liar manipulating her so he could get what he wanted.
He let the water move him just slightly. His lips met hers. And he felt her moan.
* * *
HIS LIPS DIDN’T just touch hers. They were getting to know her. And Sara wanted more.
She was a woman spending her life alone. By choice now.
But there had to be more to life than women who were afraid of the men they loved. More than men hurting the women who loved them.
Logically she knew there was.
But she’d been separated for so long from the part of life where men loved and honored their women.
“Mmm.” She heard herself. The sound embarrassed her. And she wanted more.
His lips were thicker than hers. Harder, and compelling in their differentness. Her nipples tingled against the tight spandex of her suit.
She needed to escape reality, to know that being with a man still felt good, and he was giving her a way.
He hadn’t touched her other than with his lips. And was turning her on, making her not care about anything but the moment, like never before.
Sara’s breath bubbled in unison with the water holding them.
“Oh, God, what have I done?” The searing, pain-filled tone reached her first. His words filtered in with the realization that rather than pulling her closer, he’d pushed away from her instead.
It was a new experience for her—having sex stop once it had begun. Not that she’d ever gone in for a one-night stand before. Or for having sex before dating for a while first. But...
The pulse in her private area wasn’t gone. Her nipples still yearned for his touch. And the wounded cry spoke straight to her heart.
“It’s okay, Michael. Whatever it is, it’s okay. Nothing happened here.”
He was sitting across the pool from her. The jets were on a timer and would be shutting down soon.
“It’s not okay.”
She should go. Take care of herself so she’d be ready to face tomorrow. But right now, all she wanted was to sit with a man she’d only known a few hours. Sit with him until he felt better.
What did she know about Michael Edison? That he ran a kennel for rescue animals. And lived in her complex. Certainly not enough to have had such a strong reaction to him.
“Do you want to talk?”
His gaze as he sought hers was raw. Intense. “No. I want to move inside you until neither one of us can form a thought, let alone talk.”
She should have been embarrassed. Maybe offended. Instead, his honesty turned her on.
“But that’s not okay,” she said, repeating his words back to him.
“No.”
By his tone of voice, the strength of it, she’d guess whatever his problem was, it was a big one.
“You said you’re no longer married.”
“I’m not.”
“Is there someone else?”
Just because he was divorced didn’t mean he didn’t have a significant other. He’d been single for three years, he’d said. Plenty enough time to develop something with someone else.
Not enough of something to be living with her, though, she surmised. Michael didn’t strike her as the type of man who’d ever step out on his woman. But then, what did she really know about him?
Other than an instantaneous reaction that was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.
“No. I’m not involved with anyone.” Calmer now, he sat with arms spread out on either side of him, resting on the edge of the tub. “I wouldn’t... I haven’t had a real date since...”
“It’s been three years?”
“More or less.”
They were avoiding the issue. Sara was trained to keep the conversation on track. As curious as she was about Michael’s love life, her only business with him was to set this night straight so that it didn’t add to that which was already bound to keep her up into the wee hours of the morning.
And then she needed to get home. To plug in her lavender potpourri, drink some chamomile tea, turn on some soothing music and rest.
The jets turned off. Neither one of them stood.
“I have to talk to you.”
Ominous words. Confusing, too, coming as they were from someone she’d just met.
“So talk.” Feeling exposed in the still water, Sara longed for her towel and wrap but didn’t want to step out of the water, exposing more nakedness, while he sat so close.
Her nipples weren’t screaming anymore.
“I lied to you.”
Fine. At least he’d come clean before anything had happened between them. There was integrity in that. “You’re married, aren’t you?”
“What?” His shock had to be genuine. “Hell no, I’m not married.”
No reason at this point to be glad about that. She’d been lied to.
But she was glad he wasn’t married.
“I lied about living here. I was here this afternoon strictly to meet you.”
A rush of pleasure was followed by caution.
“Don’t worry, the security golf cart just passed again. And besides, if I was out to harm you, I’d have continued with...” He motioned toward her.
She didn’t really think she’d have let things get that far, but as strung out as she was, she might have invited him back to her place. Or thought about going to his.
Suffused with heat again, Sara nodded.
“I’m a bounty hunter.”
Sara jerked upright. “I’m not wanted for anything!”
“I know that.”
She nodded again. What was it with this guy? No one threw her off-kilter so easily.
She was worried sick about Nicole. She’d done her job. But sometimes the job just wasn’t enough. She’d never been face-to-face with the radicalness of Nicole’s situation. It was like something out of the movies.
Sara knew that the only way they were going to be able to have a breakthrough with Nicole—who’d been living her life in an invisible cage—was to give her a safe place to spread her wings. Safe being the operative word.
That safe place had been the Lemonade Stand.
But how did you help a woman like Nicole feel safe?
The desperately determined woman had needed a good night’s rest far more than Sara had.
But the truth was, Nicole wasn’t ever going to rest while Toby was in the hands of a man who’d kill another man based solely on the color of his skin. And then hold his son at a family barbecue and teach him to pray.
There was no actual proof that Trevor had actually committed murder. Not yet. The LAPD was working on that. Based on testimony Nicole had given them the day before.
Neither could the other woman save her son if she was dead. That was the key point that Sara had thought she and Nicole understood together. Nicole hadn’t been able to save her son on her own. She needed their help.
Had their help.
So why had she run?
“I’m after a runner.” As he had at the pool earlier that day, Michael paused for long moments between speaking. And then gave her short sentences.
Because he was choosing his words carefully. She understood that now.
“And you think I know him? Why not just say so?”
“I didn’t know who you were, what you did or how you might be associated.” He was meeting her gaze head-on still.
Sara dissected his words anyway. His actions were driven by a motivation known only to him. The man had a goal. And he’d admitted he’d lied to reach that goal.
“I’m guessing that since you’re back, I didn’t lead you to him.” Had to be one of their victim’s abusers. Nothing else made sense. Outside those she knew through the Lemonade Stand, and her family, Sara didn’t “associate” much.
Clearly. As evidenced by this little disaster.
“Yes and no.”
She sat up again. Protective radar on alert. “I did lead you to him?” She couldn’t fathom how, but... “Is one of my clients in danger?”
