Face-Off (9 page)

B
Y THE TIME SHE LEFT
Sierra and Jarrad's place Sam had accepted the inevitable.

She loved Greg. Had always loved him and would never love anyone else.

So where did that leave her?

Seemed to her she had two choices. She could continue as things were, knowing that Greg and she would continue sleeping together because she didn't think either of them could stop.

Or she could risk everything and try to win him back—not just in her bed—but all the way.

Husband, babies, home in the suburbs all the way.

According to Sierra, she had to humiliate herself in order to convince the man she loved that she was serious. She wasn't sure about that. Maybe she could tell him her feelings. Surely that would be enough?

But it hadn't been enough for her. Ten years ago Greg had given her exactly that. A proposal of love and marriage and she hadn't believed him.

Now, ten years later, he was older and more cynical. Why would he believe that she loved him simply because she told him so?

He wouldn't.

Instinctively, she knew, he wouldn't.

What could she do to show him?

A slow smile began to form. She had exactly the perfect scenario in mind.

 

G
REG WAS HAVING A BAD
day. His fingers banged the keyboard in his own hunt-and-peck style. Not for the first time, he wished he'd taken typing at school. Somehow he'd never imagined that so much of police work would involve clerical duties. As he sat at his regulation desk in the precinct typing another regulation report into his computer, he fumed. Their evidence hadn't held up in court and so a notorious drug dealer and gangbanger had gone free.

He had far too much paperwork to get through in his entire lifetime and his favorite lunch-time eatery had been out of his favorite sandwich.

It even seemed noisier than usual. More cops seemed to be desk-bound, either typing, on the phone or talking amongst themselves. Somebody was organizing a fantasy league, which seemed to involve a lot of joking around, but he had no interest in betting on hockey. He'd rather play it.

So he wasn't in the best of moods when, around four in the afternoon, a pair of black heels strode into his line of vision.

The stilettos were attached to a nice pair of legs and so his eyes naturally followed the line up to the hem of a blue trench coat snugged around a great figure. One he knew well.

Sam's.

She grinned at him when they made eye contact.

“How did you get in here?” he asked.

She wasn't fooled by his gruff manner, he could tell. Her smile only turned saucier.

“I showed the desk sergeant my business card and explained that I needed to see you on an urgent business matter. He let me come up. Professional courtesy.”

“Lawyers.” He shook his head, automatically saving his work. “What do you want?”

He knew there was interest from everybody in the department since the noise level had immediately dropped to tomblike. Who was this woman and why was she here?

He was wondering that himself. This was his work-place, not her apartment in the dark where no one had to know what was going on.

He didn't feel like explaining to anyone—least of all himself—what exactly was going on. Mostly because he didn't have a clue.

She leaned closer. “I wanted you to know that under this trench coat I am wearing nothing but a light dusting of talcum powder, and that I will be having a drink at that cop bar down the street where you all hang out. If you care to join me.”

“Which bar?” He wanted to hear her say the words with that red-lipsticked mouth.

A tiny smile tilted that glorious red. “In The Sin Bin.”

The Sin Bin was the slang name for the penalty box in hockey. Also, he supposed a fitting reference to jail. Maybe that's why the cops liked to hang out there, though he figured it was mostly about the proximity to the cop shop and the cold beer and excellent burgers.

Then she turned, and putting extra oomph in her hips, strutted out without giving him a chance to say a word. Which was just as well since his tongue was glued to the
roof of his mouth and he couldn't have spoken if he'd been able to think of a thing to say.

He gave her a ten-minute head start. He cleaned up his desk and made his to-do list for the morning so his coworkers wouldn't guess that he was running after a girl in a trench coat, so desperate for her he could barely draw breath. And then he followed her.

When he walked in he saw a couple of guys he knew. Nodded. His eyes scanned the place rapidly. A hockey game was on the big screen, but he couldn't have said what teams were playing. All his focus was on finding that woman.

He caught a flash of blue and followed it to a booth in a corner.

She had a glass of white wine in front of her. A beer in a frosty mug already waiting on the other side of the table. His side.

He sat. Picked up the mug. Drank deeply.

Put down the glass and looked over at her. She wore extra makeup, he noticed, and she'd done her hair in loose curls. She looked like a spy girl.

“What's your plan?” he asked.

Under the table she ran her high-heel-clad foot up the inside of his leg. He swallowed hard. “It's National Seduce a Cop Day. I'm doing my civic duty,” she informed him in a low voice.

She was crazy and gorgeous, and he wanted her so bad he could hardly stand it. But over the years he'd learned a little self-control.

He picked up his drink and came around to her side of the booth. As he sat beside her he eyed the tiny gap at her trench coat's hem. “Open your legs,” he said softly.

A tiny moan came from deep in her throat. She eased open her thighs and as she did so the coat gapped, giving
him the view he wanted, all the way to paradise. So, he'd hooked up with an old flame. He wasn't the first. He still thought she was hot, they had fantastic chemistry and, until something better came along for either of them, this arrangement was perfect. Friends with benefits, wasn't that what they called it?

He sipped his beer and pretended to watch the big screen while he slipped his hand onto her knee and let it trail up her inner thigh. She was already trembling. “Where will this civic duty take place?” he asked.

“Anywhere you like.”

“Your place or mine. Somewhere where nobody will bother us when I make you come so hard you scream.”

“I
T DIDN'T WORK!”

Samantha was close to tears when she met Sierra for coffee the next morning.

“What didn't work?”

“What you said. I totally put myself out there. I showed up at Greg's work in a trench coat, high heels and nothing else. In front of all his colleagues. We went to the bar and he was half-crazy wanting me. Then I took him home and we had the best sex.” She shivered at the memory. She put her head in her hand. “But nothing's changed.”

Sierra looked at her the way she'd probably look at a second grader who got simple arithmetic all wrong. “Did you really think it would?”

Sam jerked up in her chair. “Yes. I thought it would. You were the
Romeo and Juliet
expert. You told me all I had to do was put myself out there, be prepared to make a fool of myself in the name of love. I'm telling you it didn't work.”

Sierra was soft-spoken, a lady, the kind of woman who always let other people go first in lineups. But Sam was beginning to realize she had a streak of steel in her too. And it showed now.

“You played a fun sex game and seduced a man. How is that putting everything on the line and telling him you love him and want to spend the rest of your life with him?”

Sam felt like pouting. Probably she was. “I thought he'd read between the lines.”

“If you really want this man, I think you're going to have to try harder.” Sierra took a sip of her latte and settled back in her chair. “I don't think you only hurt his pride when you turned down his proposal. I think you genuinely broke his heart.”

“Why does everyone keep acting like this is all my fault? I was twenty-two. Headed for law school. I wasn't ready to get married.”

“Did you tell him that?”

She squirmed a bit in her chair. Made a production of sweeping some stray specks of sugar off the tabletop. Finally she admitted, “No.”

“What did you do?”

“I was under a lot of stress. I was about to leave home and leave everyone I knew, including Greg. And then he threw a ring at me. I did what any woman in my position would do. I freaked.”

“Well.”

“But he knew me. Better than anyone. All he had to do was write or call. I'd have calmed down, things would have gone back to normal. It was totally his fault.”

“Did you ever think about contacting him?”

“Sure, I thought about it.”

“And did you?”

“No. I wasn't the one who screwed everything up.”

“Are you sure?” The calm voice wasn't accusing, simply asking.

Sam scowled into her coffee and refused to answer.

“Sam, you can't have a relationship where you are
always right. It's statistically impossible. Sometimes, you are wrong. Even worse, sometimes you have to admit you were wrong.”

A group of moms with toddlers in tow came in, obviously after some sort of mom-and-tot activity. One kid dragged a green sippy cup, one whined about wanting a cookie. Sam had never felt a single tick from her supposed biological clock. Had assumed she didn't have one. But suddenly she knew she did want kids. And she wanted them with Greg. A man who would take her offer of seducing a cop, but didn't seem interested in much else. “But—I don't know how much more I've got in me.”

“Depends how much you want him, I guess.”

“Oh, I want him.”

“Forever?”

She didn't even hesitate. “Forever.”

“Then you'd better think of something.”

 

G
REG WAS SO BUSY
preparing for the police and firefighter hockey tourney that she barely saw him. He dropped by a couple of times after work or practice, but it was only for a few hours of sex and then he was gone.

She'd start to feel used except that she was enjoying sex as she hadn't enjoyed it in years. Every time they came together she became more convinced that they needed to put their differences aside and commit.

She wanted lots of things that she saw happening with Greg. She pictured a home, a real home like the kind she'd grown up in, him doing lawn-mowing and hand man projects, her slowing down her practice to spend time with her children.

Damn it, she wanted to marry the man.

And now that she was ready, he didn't seem to want to marry her.

He was leaving for the big tourney on Tuesday. It was Saturday night. He hadn't mentioned her coming down to support the team, and she hadn't brought it up. So far their affair was a dark secret. She hadn't told anyone except Jarrad and Sierra and if Greg hadn't told his best friend, then he probably hadn't told anyone.

He arrived at ten as they'd arranged and no sooner had she opened the door to him than he had her in his arms, pushing her inside and kissing her deeply. She could feel his passion and need and, as usual, they fueled her own. By the time he'd pressed her against the hallway wall, his arousal was fierce.

“Oh, baby, I want you so much.”

She'd planned to sit him down and talk to him, but she was a woman with strong needs and this man always reminded her of how strong her needs were.

“Bedroom,” she panted, “I put on fresh sheets.”

He didn't answer, simply bent down and hoisted her into his arms. She squealed and then laughed as he hauled her off to the bedroom holding her tight to his chest. In anticipation of his visit, she was wearing a sexy black nightgown. He put her on the bed and, eyes never leaving her, ripped off his clothes in record speed. She loved his haste, his obvious need for her. Desire filled the air between them.

Greg gazed down at the woman waiting for him on the bed. There was no light in the room save a dim glow from the window, so she was more shadow than real, like a black-and-white photograph. She wore some kind of black lacy thing and under it he could see black panties. A rage of lust pulled at him and he stripped rapidly until he was naked. On the bed. He pulled her against him.

He hadn't realized how intense his need would be, would continue to be no matter how many times he tried to
slake it with the woman he was in love with—the woman he'd loved for years.

She kissed him, and it was like his first kiss ever. He leaned into it, into her, and she responded with her usual eagerness. He reached for her, tracing her firm breasts beneath the black silk.

She ran her hands over his bare chest, his belly, then began to touch him as he reached to rub her through her silk panties.

Her breath hissed as he caressed her, feeling the heat pulsing from her. Too eager for finesse, he plunged his hand into her panties, needing to feel her, soft and slick and ready.

“I need…” he gasped. “I need you.”

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

He began kissing her and rolled her, wanting to be on top of her, but she had the same idea, bossy woman that she was and she kept going.

They tumbled off the bed and onto the floor—her expensively carpeted floor.

“I really, really need to see you,” he said.

She kissed him again, rolling on top of him and straddling him. He felt her shift, lean up and flip on a light.

He blinked, and blinked again as the black-and-white photo became woman.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, gazing up at her, her hair spilling around her face.

“Stay there. I forgot the condoms.” He knew she kept them in the bathroom. He watched her, reminding himself of all the parts of her body he liked so much. The sweet round ass, the thighs that were muscular and sexy from all the running she did, as he was reminded every time they gripped him.

The long line of her back, and the strong shoulders.

Hair, eyes, lips, breasts, belly, hips, all of her added up to such an amazing package. No wonder he couldn't seem to stay away.

She returned with a couple of condoms, ripped one open with her teeth and sheathed him with her own hands. She took her time about it, sneaking in a caress or two, as though she was enjoying learning his body again as much as he was enjoying relearning hers. He tried to stay cool, but it was tough feeling her magic touch, oh, she knew him so well. Knew exactly what he liked. He stayed where he was, on his back, trying to hold himself in check, feeling the soft wool of the carpet rubbing his spine.

She straddled him slowly, and he watched intently as she gripped him in her hand and guided him to the entrance to her body. He barely breathed as she lowered herself slowly onto him, inching him slowly into paradise.

When she'd settled all the way, and he was as deep inside her as he could go, he gripped her hips, holding her against him so he could savor that first moment of complete connection.

He felt her heat, her snug, wet heat and the connection running between them that was so much more than physical. Their gazes caught and held, and he saw vulnerability flash. Something pulled, deep inside him as he realized that he hadn't ever connected so deeply with anyone. Ever.

And then she closed her eyes against him. He felt a slight shudder run through her body, and she was moving, riding him. He caught her rhythm and stayed with her, touching her as she rode him, touching her everywhere, her breasts, her hips, and, when he saw her eyes start to lose their focus, he touched her clit, rubbing it the way he knew she liked. When her head fell back on a cry, he thrust up, up and up inside her, pushing her over the
edge, and then following in a spurt of intense pleasure that seemed to get stronger every time.

“Wow,” Sam panted as she slumped in a heap on top of Greg, her silk nightie bunched between them. She felt his heart thud beneath her breast. “Wow, wow, wow.”

She was usually good with words, but right now,
Wow
seemed to express everything she felt.

Greg drew idle patterns on her back with his fingertips and she let herself enjoy the sensation and the utter relaxation in her body at this moment.

“You know what I want?” he mumbled against her hair.

“You want more?” She raised her head to glare down at him.

He grinned slowly, showing more of his teeth by the second. “I want to try that again with you naked.”

The relaxation that had enveloped her a moment past was gone as a familiar tension in her lower body built again.

“And this time,” he said, rising to his feet and taking her hand to pull her up with him, “I think we should give the big soft bed a try.”

“You getting old?” she teased.

“Definitely.” And he pushed her back until she was lying on the bed gazing up at him.

Then he kissed her as though they were sharing their first-ever kiss. He touched her lips gently with his own, moving his mouth over hers, warming her lips before touching her tongue lightly with his. His restraint and sweetness charmed her and she followed his lead, licking at him slowly, kissing as though they weren't going any further than a kiss.

Oh, she'd forgotten how kissing could turn her on. Soon, the restless energy was pulsing through her again.
She wanted more. More of his mouth, more of his body, more of the friction that would send her flying.

Her breathing grew heavy, her body restless, and still he kissed only her mouth in that soft, teasing way. After a long, long time, he kissed his way to her breasts, kissing the slopes, the undersides and finally the sensitive tips. His tongue flicked over her nipple and she felt the charge right to her toes. While his mouth was busy at her breasts, his hands stroked her sides, her belly, her thighs and then settled between her legs.

He followed the path of his hands with his mouth until he was settled between her parted legs and his mouth hovered over her. His moist breath stirred her curls.

Then she didn't think anything at all because he put his mouth on her and put the same slow, restrained patience into licking her as he'd put into kissing her.

With the first rush of passion spent, she could enjoy a slower build, feel the pressure and moisture of his tongue, the way he explored even as he excited. She built slowly, and then faster, until her hips were gyrating and her hands fisting against the bedclothes.

So close.

He moved up her body and she would have begged him to take her if she didn't feel him already there, not so lazy now, not so slow. But he still took the time to look deeply into her eyes as he entered her slowly and completely.

Lust, passion, memory—love. The strong emotions all came together in a kind of bittersweet pleasure as he moved inside her. His palms cupped her face and he kissed her over and over again even as their breath grew ragged.

She tasted herself on his lips.

I love you.
She wanted so badly to voice the phrase that was filling every part of her, but she couldn't do it.
Couldn't take the chance he wouldn't say the words back to her. So, she shut her eyes, wrapped her legs around him and gripped the firm muscles of his butt, kneading, pulling him deeper, grinding up to meet him.

Before her own cries had quieted, she heard him cry out his own release.

How could he be both so mysterious and so familiar? she wondered, as he rolled to his back, bringing her with him so she ended up snuggled against him, her head pillowed on his chest.

 

S
HE THOUGHT ABOUT WHAT
Sierra had said. She had to be willing to apologize. Maybe she could start by having the discussion they should have had ten years ago.

She rolled over and kissed his damp chest. “That was amazing.”

He put an arm around her to pull her in closer. “It's always amazing with us.”

“Always has been.” She shifted, laid her hand over his heart, and wrapped an arm around him.

“I—I'm…” She could do this, she told herself. She could apologize. Maybe she could even tell him she loved him. It wouldn't kill her. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Greg, I'm sorry.”

He turned his head to squint at her. “What for?”

As if he didn't know. He was going to make her crawl. Annoyance spurted through her, but then she remembered Sierra's advice. If she wanted this man, she had to be willing to face her part in their breakup.