Lethal Seduction (16 page)

“Joel!” Rosarita exclaimed.

“Oops!” Jewel giggled, backing out the door.

“What took you so long?” Joel questioned, a welcoming smirk on his fleshy face.

It occurred to Rosarita that she might be getting in over her head. Joel was definitely loco. But sexy.

“What
are you doing?” she squealed.

“What does it
look
like I'm doing?” he replied, perfectly at ease.

“Couldn't you at least have waited for me?”

“Why waste a good head start?” he said, right hand still in action.

Shutting the door behind her, she ventured closer. “Don't let me disturb you,” she said sarcastically.

“I can assure you, babe, you're not,” he answered, and then, grabbing a tissue, he groaned loudly and finished the job.

“Goddamnit, Joel!” she complained. “What
is
going on? Why are you standing here by yourself jacking off?”

“Am
I by myself?” he said, completely unconcerned as he zipped up. “Thought
you
were here.”

“Yes, I am, and so was your so-called assistant.”

“Take no notice of Jewel, she's seen it all before.”

“You're not having sex with that . . . that tramp?” Rosarita asked, furious at the possibility.

“Get real, babe. I'm Joel Blaine. But y'know,” he added with a cocky wink, “when you spend a lot of time with someone, there ain't a lotta secrets between you.”

Rosarita was exasperated. This man was totally out there, and it excited the hell out of her.

“Move your ass over here an' stop nagging,” he ordered.

She sauntered toward his desk. “My in-laws are still in town,” she said, as if he cared.

“Jump up on the desk, babe. I'm gonna show you some tongue action the like of which you've never experienced.”

Gingerly she perched on the edge of his desk.

He grinned and shoved her back so that her butt was firmly planted in the middle of the desk, while her legs dangled limply over the side.

“Raise your ass an' remove your panties,” he commanded.

“What makes you think I'm wearing any?” she said, in what she hoped was a provocative drawl.

“Oh, baby, baby,” he crooned. “You and I, we're a pair made in heaven. An'
I'm
gonna show you what heaven's all about!”

•

“Where
were
you today?” Dexter asked as soon as Rosarita arrived home.

“I had some errands to run,” she answered vaguely, trying not to think about Joel's talented tongue licking her dry. Was he the best or
what?

“My mom thought you were taking her to the museum. She's disappointed.”

“I'll take her tomorrow,” Rosarita said, adding a snippy, “I have a life, you know.”

“Your
life
is with me,” Dexter said.

That's what you think.

“Your sister called.”

“What did
she
want?”

“Maybe just to be sisterly. Has it ever occurred to you that it might be nice if you asked her over for tea? Martha would love to meet the kids.”

“Why is it that all you care about lately is making your goddamn mother happy?” she said snippily.

“Don't start,” he said, throwing her a warning look.

“It's always about
you,”
she whined. “Always about what
you
want. Sometimes you might consider what
I
want, and you
know
what that is.”

“What?”

“A divorce,” she said triumphantly.

“You promised me we wouldn't discuss it until my parents left,” he said, lowering his voice.

“You're
the one who's busy nagging me.”

“I'm sorry. I won't say anything else.” And he didn't.

That night he made love to her twice. He was determined to get her pregnant, and the way they were going, it shouldn't take much longer.

“W
OW
!” David exclaimed admiringly. “You look sensational!”

“David?” She uttered his name as if she didn't really believe it was him standing in front of her. “David,” she repeated in shock. And then—as the reality set in—“What the hell are
you
doing here?”

“I dropped by on the chance you'd be in,” he said casually, as if they saw each other all the time and this was no big deal.

Actually, it was an enormous deal, it was the first time she'd laid eyes on him since he'd walked out on her.

“I'm
not
in,” she said flatly. “I'm on my way to dinner.”

“You are?” he said, surprised.

“Yes, I am,” she said.

“That's a helluva greeting,” he said, fixing her with a why-can't-you-be-nicer-to-me? look.

“Let me get this straight,” she said, struggling to recover her composure. “Are you actually here to see
me?”

“Obviously.”

“Why?”

“I thought we should . . . talk.”

“You couldn't have picked up a phone?”

“Wasn't sure you'd speak to me.”

“I see,” she said icily. “You got it in your head that it was better to come here at ten-thirty at night and confront me in person.”

“You look sensational,” he said, repeating himself.

“You've already told me that,” she answered, completely thrown by this new turn of events.

“So,” he said conversationally. “How have you been?”

“What
is
this crap?” she said, suddenly angry. “Go home to your wife where you belong.”

“I've
left
my wife,” he announced. “It's over between us.”

“What did you do—go out for cigarettes and forget to come back?”

David scowled. “That doesn't make me feel good,” he muttered.

“I'm
sorry.
I fully intended it should make you feel great.”

“I hate it when you're sarcastic.”

“You
are something else,” she said, shaking her head in amazement.

“Is this man bothering you, Miss Castelli?” Calvin inquired, stepping out from behind the porter's desk, a belligerent expression on his round face.

Slammer barked, he was straining on his leash to leave the building, and it was quite obvious that Calvin had no intention of taking him anywhere until the doorman found out what was going on.

“No, Calvin, everything's fine,” she said quickly. “This is not who I was expecting, and he's leaving anyway.”

“Uh-huh,” Calvin said, glaring at David.

She didn't know whether to stay in the lobby and risk Jake arriving, or return to her apartment.

“Where are you going for dinner?” David asked, as if he had a right to know.

“None of your business,” she answered. Was it her imagination, or had he put on a pound or two? And his hair—it looked dry and lifeless, as if it needed a good conditioning.

“We had something so good together,” he sighed. “Something so right.”

“We certainly did, David,” she replied calmly, watching Calvin and Slammer leave. “That is until
you
fucked it up. So—here's my suggestion: do not come whining back to me simply because your marriage hasn't worked out. You see, quite frankly, I don't care.”

“Yes you do,” he said quickly. “I heard you haven't hooked up with anyone since we split. That means you
do
care.”

“No, it means I haven't found anybody I want to sleep with—there's a big difference.”

“I've got nowhere to stay tonight,” he said.

“Have you ever heard the word ‘hotel'?” she said caustically. “They have them all over the city.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. “I wasn't expecting this kind of reaction from you,” he said.

“Really?” she answered coldly. “What
were
you expecting?”

“I thought you'd have more compassion.”

“David,” she said patiently, “the night you walked out on me, every bit of my compassion went with you. Get it?”

“Jesus, Madison, how many times do you want me to say I'm sorry?”

“As many as you like—it won't make any difference.”

“Have lunch with me tomorrow?”

“You've got to be out of your mind.”

“You're not giving me a crumb, nothing, huh?”

“I'm giving you what
you
gave me.”

“So that's it,” he said sulkily. “I'm being punished?”

“Don't you
get
it, David?” she said, her voice rising in frustration. “You're not being punished, you're not being anything. We had something you broke into a thousand pieces. Now it's over.”

“No,” he said stubbornly. “It'll never be over.”

“Yes,” she countered. “It's definitely over, and I'm going back upstairs, so you'd better leave.”

He shook his head as if he couldn't understand why she was dismissing him.

Please go,
she silently urged.
Please go before Jake arrives.

And naturally, just as she was wishing David would leave, in walked Jake. And he looked good. He was a couple of inches taller than David, his hair was tousled and longer, and he had very appealing brown eyes. He was sexy in a laid-back, street kind of way.

“Hey,” Jake said, totally unaware he was walking in on something.

“Hi,” she said, quickly grabbing the sleeve of his leather jacket and steering him back toward the door. “I'm all ready, let's go.”

David started to follow, but she stopped him with a look that said,
Don't even think about it!

“Did I interrupt something?” Jake asked as they hit the street. “You rushed me out of there like the building was on fire!”

“Actually you saved me,” she answered.

“From that guy? Who was he?”

“Someone I
used
to know.” A long, meaningful pause. “I can safely say—not anymore.”

“That's good.”

“Yes, it is.”

He gave her a quizzical look. “New York suits you.”

“Are you saying L.A. didn't?” she responded.

“You looked pretty good in L.A., but as we both know, my mind was elsewhere. Jeez,” he grinned. “I must've been blind.”

“I'm glad you're here,” she said.

“Why's that?”

“ 'Cause I'm in desperate need of someone to talk to.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“One of them.”

“Then talk away.”

“First, I need a drink. Then I want to know why you're in town, what your plans are, where you're heading next, and uh . . . after that I'd simply like to have fun.”

He grinned again. He had a killer grin—she remembered it well.

“That's
exactly
what I had in mind,” he said. “Fun . . . with you. A perfect night.”

•

Three hours later they were in bed in her apartment, having recently finished making fast, passionate love.

“I've never done this before,” she sighed, stretching luxuriously.

“Really?” he answered with a playful laugh. “So what you're telling me is that you're a twenty-nine-year-old virgin?”

“You know what I mean,” she said, smiling softly. “I've never ended up in bed on a first date.” She paused for a moment, then added, “Well, maybe once in college, and there was a quick one-nighter in Miami, but—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, touching her arm. “I'm not here on a need-to-know basis. Anyway, this is our
second
date. Remember L.A.?

“Of course.”

“I thought about you a lot since then.”

“I thought about you too,” she admitted.

He yawned and rolled over. “I hope I'm not rebound guy 'cause your significant other turned up tonight.”

“David hasn't been my significant other for over a year,” she said, throwing her arms above her head. “I barely recognized him.”

“Good,” he said, moving back toward her. Then he began kissing her neck, moving slowly down—very, very slowly.

She moaned in anticipation of what was to come. Being in bed with Jake was far better than she'd expected, a release that she'd desperately needed, and she was determined to relish every moment.

Earlier, over drinks at a nearby bar, she'd told him about Michael's revelations. He'd listened attentively and sympathized. She'd also told him about the private detective she'd hired to find information about her parents.

“Has she come up with anything?” he'd asked.

“I haven't heard from her since she was here.”

“If she's thorough, she'll wait until she can bring you everything.”

“What is everything? I don't know anymore. It's like I'm completely lost.”

Now, lying in bed next to him, she didn't feel lost at all. She was in the right place at the right time and that felt extremely satisfying. Plus the sex was great, natural and passionate, not as if it was their first time together at all.

His hands began exploring her body again, sending chills of excitement through her.

Oh God, she loved the smell of him, the way his skin felt, the touch of his hands all over her. He was strong and comforting and loving, and most of all, he was there exactly when she needed him.

In the morning he was still in her bed. She propped herself up on one elbow and watched him sleep. He was handsome in an unaffected way. Not perfect like his anchorman brother in L.A., more edgy and casual. He was also an excellent lover, although, she thought wryly, she was so out of practice she wouldn't know a bad lover from a good one.

She climbed out of bed without disturbing him and went into the living room. Slammer, who'd been shut out of the bedroom for the night, gave her a furious look and slunk over to the far corner to punish her for locking him out.