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“I’ll bet I can seduce you with words alone,” she suggested softly.
“Just words?”
“Just words. You, of course, are free to touch. I, though, won’t use anything but my voice.”
Jesse grinned. That sounded safe enough. Her touch, he was sure he couldn’t resist. But words? Hell, words wouldn’t be a problem for him.
“You’re on,” he said.
“Have a seat, then.” She gestured to the open door.
Jesse sat, swinging his long legs into the small car. He was enveloped in her scent, seeped as it was into the smooth leather seats and gunmetal interior. Giving him an excellent view of her smooth cleavage under the neckline of her top, Audra leaned down. Her face almost in his crotch, she reached between his legs. Jesse’s jeans grew tight and he caught his breath as anticipation hammered through him. “What happened to just voice?”
She turned her head, the parking lot lights making the magenta tips of her hair glow. She gave him a grin and he heard a click. Then the seat slid back. She rose with a wink and, leaning across him so her breasts were at eye level, she flicked off the interior light.
“Just making sure you’re comfortable,” she said. Then with a twist, a little shimmy in that tight black leather dress, she sat on his lap so that her back was to the driver’s seat and her deliciously long legs were resting on the open door’s armrest.
The nearest light was a half dozen or so cars away, and the parking lot deserted, so they had the illusion of privacy. But it wasn’t private, and the door was wide open. Maybe if Jesse repeated that to himself a few dozen times, he could find the strength to care.
The temptation of those legs, encased in silky black stockings, was too much for him. Reveling in the feel of her toned limbs, he slid his hand down her thigh.
“Mmm, you have good hands. I’ll bet you can work wonders with those fingers of yours.” She laid her hand over his and guided it back up her thigh, just to the edge of the butter-soft leather hem. A hem that was inches, bare inches, from the promise of heaven between those glorious thighs. “I’d like to feel those hands on my body. You could start by unzipping my dress. All I’d have to do is stand up and it would slide to the ground, leaving me in silky little bits of nothing.”
“Computers,” he blurted.
“Beg your pardon?”
“I work with computers. That’s how I keep my fingers limber.” And how he’d dulled his social skills. Damn, could he sound any more stupid? Maybe he could sweet-talk her with some HTML code next? “Are you much into computers?”
Maybe that was her link with crime ring? Although with Davey on board, they probably didn’t need any hacking help, as the dork was second only to Jesse himself in computer expertise. Nah, she had to be the handoff.
“Computers? I know about enough to turn one on.”
“I’ll bet you do,” he murmured.
“I suppose that explains it,” she mused.
He gave her a questioning look.
“Under that hunky exterior, you’ve got a brainy thing going on.”
“Brainy?” Dammit, why brainy? Not that he sucked at attracting women, but there was always that layer of intellectual connection. His family was dead set on reducing him to a brain, albeit a handy brain when they needed heavy furniture moved. His coworkers and captain in Cyber Crimes valued his brains, counted on them to break the hardest cases. But the last thing he wanted to be noted for when he had the sexiest women he’d ever met in his lap was what was in his head. At least, not the one on his shoulders.
But, hunky? He knew it was immature, but his biceps clenched to support his hunk title. He could live with hunky.
“Yeah, you have a look in your eyes that tells me you think things through. Which is good. That means you’ll think long and hard—” she paused for effect, then to punctuate her point, she wiggled her butt just a little “—about doing any job the best you can.”
“Well, yeah. I do take pride in doing my best.”
“I’ll bet you do. Someone with that thoughtfulness, that attention to detail, you’re sure to hit at least a seven, maybe even an eight, on the orgasm scale.”
“Orgasm scale?” It was as if she’d posted a challenge sign. His testosterone demanded he grab that gauntlet and prove his manhood. “What’s the scale? One to eight?”
Audra placed her fingers, just the tips, on the back of his hand and slid it under the edge of her skirt. Then she leaned close so he could feel her warm, sweet breath on his face. “Ten, baby. The top of the scale is a ten.”
“What’s the criteria for placement on this scale of yours?” He stifled a groan when he realized those luscious black hose covering her long legs stopped at the top of her thighs. He traced the rough, lacy band and told himself mewling pitifully would probably not rate high on her scale.
“Visual stimulation is the first step,” she explained, her husky lisp stimulating him more than most women could with a naked body and a can of whipped cream. “A look across the room, the sexual energy that sparks between two people when their eyes meet.”
He slid his index finger under the band of her stockings, imagining how it’d feel to roll the silky fabric down her thighs, leaving her flesh bare for his lips.
“Do you know how it is when you meet someone’s eyes, and your body responds sexually? For a man, you might get a little hard, might feel your muscles tighten. Me, I get damp. Damp is always a good sign in climbing the orgasm scale.”
“I’ll admit, I did get hard when our eyes met,” he said.
She smiled her approval, obviously delighted he was willing to play along.
“Why don’t you find out if I got damp?”
“We’re a little past the meeting-of-the-eyes stage,” he reminded her.
“Then why don’t you see if I’m wet?”
Jesse couldn’t resist. He slid his fingers higher on her thigh, brushing the tips over the lacy fabric of her panties. He groaned aloud. Wet. Deliciously wet.
“See, you’re well on your way to an eight.”
“I’m sure I can hit higher than an eight on that particular scale,” he assured her fervently.
“Babe, nobody’s gotten higher than an eight. That fabled ten on the orgasm scale is a myth.”
“Then why not lower the scale?”
“Please,” she insisted with a haughty look only a woman confident in her sexual worth could pull off. “Why would I lower my standards?”
Good point. Jesse grinned. It was a challenge he couldn’t resist.
He leaned over and took her mouth with his.
And lost himself in the dark delight she offered. Pure sex, with that underlying sweet humor. She was his ultimate fantasy. When she sucked his tongue into her mouth, Jesse realized his fantasies were about to upgrade.
Audra’s fingers brushed his skin like little electric shocks as she slipped the buttons of his shirt free. He nudged the elastic band of her panties aside to delight in her wet folds. When she scraped her fingernail over his nipple, an intense wave of desire washed over him and all thought fled.
With his fingers between her legs, his tongue working her mouth, Jesse gave himself over to a single goal. Bringing her that orgasm.
“Mmm,” she moaned as he nibbled his way over the curves flowing out the top of her leather bodice. “I am so glad you came into the club tonight.”
Club. Davey. The case. Dammit. Jesse lifted his head and blinked, shocked for some reason to realize they were still in the parking lot. A freaking parking lot, for God’s sake. With a suspect of his case.
“I can’t,” Jesse said with a quick breath.
With not only his virtue, but his ethics on the line, he pulled back and shifted Audra so she was curled in his arms. And more importantly, so she was angled so he couldn’t put his hand back up her skirt.
“Can’t? Babe, you’re hard enough to shoot for level nine if you tried. Believe me, I have faith you can.”
Oh, God. Damned right he could. He was so hard, just the feel of her ass pressed against him was almost more pressure than he could stand. But he was pushing boundaries already. No way was he crossing that particular line.
“No condom,” he claimed in desperation. “I don’t have protection.”
“Is that all?” Audra gave him a sultry smile that blurred those ethical lines again. She reached behind her for the tiny purse she’d tossed on the driver’s seat and did a quick finger rifle through it. Obviously not finding what she wanted, she upended the contents. Coming up empty, she frowned and gave a little shrug as she pulled open her wallet.
While she peered through the little pockets, Jesse eyed the disarray, looking for whatever Davey boy had given her. Lipstick, mints, a clear change purse holding a twenty and some coins. He spied her driver’s license. Perfect.
“Wow, you look good,” he said, slipping the small plastic card from the seat. He mentally patted himself on the back for such a sly move. “I thought crappy driver’s license pictures were some kind of law.”
“Laws aren’t really rules, they’re more like guidelines,” Audra joked. Jesse cringed at her attitude but didn’t figure he had room to take her to task, since he’d obviously broken a few ethical laws of his own. The underlying tightness in her voice distracted him from the pleasure of self-flagellation.
“And you aren’t big on guidelines?” he asked with a frown. Frustrated with the lack of physical evidence of her connection to Davey, he told himself to get back in cop mode. Jesse memorized her full name, address and license number.
“Sure I am. It’s a lot easier to break the rules if you know the guidelines first,” she said with a wicked grin.
“Knowledge is the first step of preparation, huh?”
“Sure. And a Wicked Chick is always prepared.” She leaned back toward the driver’s seat and flipped open the glove box. She quickly shuffled through the messy pile of papers and frowned. “I have to have one in here.”
She moved from shuffling papers to tossing them on the floor. “What the hell? How can I not have one? It’s the Wicked Chicks number one rule. The only way to play safe is bring your own protection.”
“I thought rules were more like guidelines.” As soon as the words were out, Audra pinned him with a laser glare. Jesse winced. Maybe his sisters were right. Maybe he did always find the perfectly wrong thing to say.
Either way, he felt as if he’d been saved from a long fall off a very jagged cliff. He’d just ignore the part of him that was screaming in frustration at being denied that fall. Eight, his ass. He’d have shown her nine, easy. Ten, if he could use props and toys.
But that wasn’t an option. At least, not right now. First he had to clear her or, if she was too involved with Dave Larson’s current crimefest, bust her.
“To be honest, I’m not usually the kind of guy who gets that friendly on the first date.”
Audra just continued to look at him, frustration and something deeper reflected in her eyes.
“I’d like to get together sometime, maybe a date?” Somewhere with a better setting for interrogation. First he’d do a little research, see if he could ferret out her connections. And practice the art of the cold shower.
“A date?”
“Yeah, you know, two people, out in public, getting to know each other.”
“Sure. ’Cause guys are always interested in dating a woman they didn’t get laid with, right?” she asked with a curl of her lip.
“Hey, what kind of guy do you think I am? I’m interested in you for more than sex.”
“Sure,” she repeated. With a wiggle that made him want to beg, she used her foot to push wide the partially open car door and slid off his lap to stand outside the car. As Jesse painfully unfolded himself from the vehicle, she reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of paper.
“Tell you what, here’s my business card. You go ahead and give me a call, we’ll do that date.”
Jesse read it. Audra Walker, Simply Sensual Lingerie. Designer. “Lingerie, huh?”
“Oh, yeah, lingerie. And I’m damned good. Give me that call, I’ll model some for you.”
Maybe it wasn’t too late to climb back in the car? He’d make do without intercourse. They could skip the whole condom issue.
She swung the car door shut and leaned against the fender. Smoothing her hands over her hips, she winked. “Don’t forget the condom, huh?”
EVEN AS A BAD GIRL, lies didn’t come easy to Audra. She hadn’t been able to admit another failure, so when she’d sashayed back into the club, she’d smiled and let her friends assume she’d done the deed.
Five blood-pumping dances and an order of nachos hadn’t blunted her sexual frustration. Finally tired of the unearned congratulations from Suzi and Bea, and the unspoken judgment of Isabel, she’d told the girls she was heading out. It would’ve been a clean break if not for the fact that she was Isabel’s ride home.
Now, with her oldest friend in the passenger seat next to her, Audra flew down the freeway toward Auburn and the small neighborhood they’d grown up in.
Unlike Suzi and Bea, Isabel was into the whole focus-on-building-a-career thing. She’d taken over her parents’ florist shop and was looking for ways to turn it from a small-town posey-pusher into one of the area’s prominent florists.
Audra and Isabel had grown up next door to each other, both living over their parents’ business. That Isabel had lived over the florist and Audra over a bar probably played into their personalities a bit. As a child, Isabel had been quiet, sweet and a little pudgy. Audra? She’d always been trouble.
Somehow, the two balanced each other out, though.
“Congratulations again on netting that deal with the mall,” Audra said, remembering Isabel’s earlier news. “You’ve been trying to snag that account for almost a year now. That’s great that it finally came together.”
They shared a smile. It was obviously a night to celebrate career achievements. Then Audra remembered the by-product of her latest achievement, her failure to live up to the code of the Wicked Chicks, and her mouth drooped.
“There’s nothing wrong with being ambitious, Audra,” Isabel said, obviously misreading her expression and figuring her frustration was career-focused. After all, for Isabel, most things were. “You worked your butt off going to school full-time and working in the boutique, too. You deserved to celebrate your success.”
“Designing vanilla fluff.”
“Oh, c’mon. Don’t let that kind of defeatist thinking take hold. You have to start somewhere. How many people can claim the title of head designer right out of school? So you’re not creating quite the kind of thing you want. Put in your time, pay your dues, and you’ll be there soon enough.”
Audra lifted her chin and pulled back her shoulders. Right. She’d get there. Damned if she wouldn’t.
“Did you want to read that book I was telling you about yesterday?” Isabel asked, referring to the latest motivational tome she’d discovered. Audra had to hand it to her friend: Isabel was just as confident and determined to make her business a success as the Wicked Chicks were to live life to the fullest.
“Nah, I’ll let you read it and give me the rundown, as always,” Audra said with a wink.
Instead of her usual nod of agreement, Isabel frowned.
“You know,” she said hesitantly, “you might want to read it yourself. Maybe it’d help you figure out why you agreed to debase yourself with meaningless sex, just for the sake of a girls’ club you’ve outgrown.”
“Debase?” Audra asked, ignoring the club reference, “What’s so debasing about doing a hot, sexy guy?” Now, if she’d had to do that geek, well, that would’ve been beyond debasing. But Jesse? Her mouth still watered at the memory of his fingers, his lips. Oh, God. His tongue. She squirmed in her seat and shook her head at Isabel. “Look, I like sex. Just because you’re trying out this chastity thing doesn’t mean my choices are wrong.”
“But this wasn’t your choice, Audra. Why do you let them push you into those dares? I thought you said you were glad you’d grown out of that type of thing.”
Audra’s jaw worked. So what if she’d backslid a little? It wasn’t just that Suzi and Bea were two of her closest friends. Her image, the sexy persona she’d developed in her teens, defined her. It made her special. Made her more than the pitiful little castoff of dismal parents who fought over her custody. Not over who got to keep her, but over who had to keep her.
It gave her control. Over herself, her life, the people around her. Isabel just didn’t get that. She had two parents who adored her, who thought she’d hung the moon. Sure, she’d dealt with her share of crap growing up. But not like Audra.
