Secrets and Lies (Crimson Romance) (6 page)

“Thank God he’s not here,” Charlie said with fervor.

“It’s too late for him to stop us this time.” Juliana felt like clapping a hand over her mouth. She hadn’t planned to discuss what they’d done last night.

“Far too late,” Charlie agreed, his voice husky. His blue eyes were like a swimming pool; she wanted to sink into them. Oh, wait, she wanted him to sink into
her
.

“Any regrets?” he asked.

“Oh, no. That was long overdue.” Had she said that aloud?

“I agree. You won’t have any trouble working with me, will you?”

“No, not at all.” Not if you discounted carnal fantasies, shortness of breath, and a heartbeat gone haywire. Oh, and throbbing, aching breasts, a tightening deep in her abdomen, and the compulsive desire to strip Charlie naked and have her wanton way with him.

“I really need this,” he said.

“What?” Had he read her mind? She stopped beside the couch.

“Finding the sculpture could open all kinds of doors for me in Hollywood.”

Oh, that need. “Why don’t we get comfortable?” She did
not
mean anything by that statement.

Charlie’s pupils expanded. “Whatever you want.”

Juliana’s mouth dried. Her body’s moisture rushed south. What she wanted . . . wasn’t realistic. She’d let Charlie test-drive her. It’s what he’d wanted, what they’d both wanted. He wasn’t here for another spin, despite his husky voice and darkened eyes.

But if he touched her, she’d be lost. She’d let him do whatever he wanted with her, as many times as he wanted. She knew she’d deny him nothing. She was his for the taking.

The moment elongated as she waited for Charlie’s move, not daring to breathe.

But when he made it, it was to sit on the couch and pull out a photo. Juliana released her breath and sat beside him. She was
not
disappointed. Maybe if she told herself that enough times she’d believe it.

Charlie handed her the photo and immediately she felt a tingling sensation. Her hand had brushed his, so she wasn’t sure if it was him or the photo. She scooted further away from him on the cushion and stared at the sculpture.

It looked old, like a stone carving, and was flat, which surprised her. When Charlie had said a sculpture she’d envisioned something three dimensional, but this was two. There were two garish seated figures wearing monstrous elaborate masks and headdresses and little else. It was primitive.

“What is this?” she asked.

“It’s a sculpture of the Mayan gods Hunahpu and Xbalanque, the Maya Hero Twins.”

“It looks old.”

“I don’t know if it is or not. My client’s girlfriend obtained it in South America when she was filming a movie.”

“Tomb raiding?”

“I don’t know. She’s an actress. Lots of opportunities get offered to actors on movie sets. Maybe someone sold it to her. Or maybe she bought it in a village. It could be a clever reproduction. She told my client it was a fertility god.” His smile blazed.

Juliana was distracted by that smile and her curiosity about Charlie’s life in California. “Were you offered opportunities on sets?”

He sobered. “Yeah. Drugs, sex, other things. I wasn’t a big star, so I didn’t get huge enticements, but they were enough to get anybody into trouble.”

“Did you get into trouble?”

His sexy smile was wickedly sinful. “Yeah, but not that kind. My family kept me out of most of it. Billy and my parents mostly. And work.”

“I thought I’d seen all the movies you were in. I must have missed a lot of them if you were that busy.”

Charlie shook his head, his blue eyes sad. “Not acting. Jobs that paid the rent like busboy, waiter, studio model, canvasser, things like that.”

“But you wanted to be an actor your whole life.”

“So do thousands of other people who flock to California every year. Roles don’t get cast based on who wants to be an actor the most.”

“But you were good!”

“Thanks for the support. I need to retrieve this sculpture so I can get back to California. Would you see if you can locate it?”

Juliana sensed something beneath Charlie’s easy smile. The Charlie she’d grown up with wouldn’t have let overwhelming odds stop him. But she followed his lead and picked up the photo. A picture of a large white house filled her mind. It was a mansion surrounded by palm trees, which described a lot of properties in Florida.

“It’s a very large white house, two stories at least, maybe three. There’s a large pool in the back, shaped like a four leaf clover, a pool house or guesthouse, lots of property.” She tried to see more details.

“Can you get an address?” Charlie asked.

She shook her head and laid the photo on the coffee table. “It doesn’t work like that. I’ve got a map of Miami. I’ll try to pinpoint it for you.”

“If you had a picture of the house, could you tell?”

“Maybe. You have a photo?”

He nodded. “In the car. I’ll be right back.” Charlie rose and slipped out the door.

Juliana almost wished it wasn’t this easy to find the sculpture. She’d like more time to get to know this sexy man again. But he was itching to return to his life in California. She had no right to hold him back. What they’d shared was in the past. Puppy love didn’t last.

Excitement urged Charlie back to Juliana’s apartment with his file folder of precious photos. If she could pinpoint the sculpture’s location, he might be home by tomorrow, away from his family . . . and her.

That little white top she wore bared a delectable midriff. And the long crinkled melon-colored skirt draped low enough on her abdomen to give him carnal ideas about pulling it down her hips. He wondered what she wore underneath it, if anything. The desire to run his hands up her shapely calves and thighs to find out drove him wild.

He thanked God he’d worn loose black pants; otherwise his hard-on would make it painful to move. He shouldn’t make love with her again. That wasn’t his reason for being here. He should stick to business.

Juliana looked up when he stepped through the door and all his good intentions dived straight toward hell. Her dark eyes were nearly all pupil. His cock hardened even more. It made him hot to see a woman who desired him as much as Juliana did.

Charlie sucked in several breaths as he fought the urge to pull her down onto his cock. Surrounded by the warmth and color of Mexican fabrics and homemade pots, she burned with Latin life and passion. He needed that passion.

Focus, man
.

He approached the couch where she sat watching him like a cat watched its next meal. Careful not to touch her, he sat down and laid the three grainy black-and-white prints from the Internet on the coffee table in front of her.

Juliana reached out, and her palm hovered over the first photo. With her other hand she picked up the photo of the stolen sculpture. She placed her palm on the photo. Charlie held his breath. He noticed by her outthrust breasts that Juliana did, too.

A little frown creased her forehead. “I don’t get anything from this one.”

She lifted her hand and moved it to the next photo, where she repeated her performance. He held his breath again. “Not this one either.”

Juliana moved her hand to the final photo, where she hesitated. “I don’t always get something from photos.”

“I understand.”

Still she hesitated, and he glanced up. Juliana looked at him, not at the pictures. “Charlie, what are you going to do if I tell you it’s at this last house?”

“Get it back.”

“You mean steal it?”

He smiled. “How can it be stealing when the sculpture doesn’t belong to them?”

“Charlie, I mean it. I’m a cop’s daughter. I can’t help you break the law.”

“How is helping me different from helping the police?”

“You’re not the law.”

“I’m who people turn to when they can’t go to the police. My client doesn’t want to involve them, and he doesn’t want his property tied up for months or years in the legal system.”

“You really hire yourself out to find things?”

His mouth quirked up on the right side. “Like you. I get a finder’s fee. What do you get?”

“The same. And the satisfaction of catching criminals. It’s the only way I can.”

Charlie caught the bitter note in her voice. “You could become a cop like your father.”

Juliana snorted. “No, I can’t. The accident saw to that.”

He’d seen every inch of her luscious body. He hadn’t seen any impediment to her becoming a police officer. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s this.” She spread her hands over the table. “This ability I have. My father told me you can’t have it and be in law enforcement.”

“Psychics can’t be cops? They are on TV.”

“They can’t be in real life, not if it’s known. Police officers often have to testify in court. I would be discredited immediately because of what I can do. Some people think I’m a fraud. I’ve been called worse. I thought my father was wrong, but I’ve asked other officers I trust and I’ve even called other states. It’s the same everywhere.”

Rage burned through Charlie, hot and startling. It surprised him. Why was he so angry about someone verbally abusing Juliana?
Because no one had a right to hurt her.
Charlie choked down his rage and asked, “But it’s something you want to do?”

“Yes. I want to follow in my father’s footsteps. I want to be a detective.”

Charlie felt speechless. Juliana had a dream she couldn’t fulfill. In a perverse way, she was like him. Odd that he hadn’t known about it. When she was younger she’d played cops and robbers with him but never mentioned her dream to him. Why not?

Then a thought struck him. “Did you always want to be one?”

Juliana looked away. “No. Only after my mom died.”

Why then? He waited, but she didn’t enlighten him. He probed a little. “That’s when you became psychic.”

She nodded. “I hit my head. Several holistic doctors told me that’s sometimes how clairvoyance manifests.”

He sensed the tension in her body. “I never knew.”

“I didn’t know what it was back then. I just knew something was different.”

“So did I.”

Juliana’s smile flitted across her face. “That’s not what I was talking about.” But her stiff posture relaxed.

“Do you resent being psychic?”

“I resent being different, being treated differently or in a negative way. But I like being able to help the police.” She drew in a deep breath. “How about I help you?” She laid her palm on the final photo. A sigh escaped her full lips. “It’s here.”

Excitement surged through Charlie. He scooted forward on the couch and looked at the web page address on the bottom of the paper. South Beach. Dalton Montgomery had it. “Can you tell me where the sculpture is in the house?”

Juliana closed her eyes and frowned. As seconds turned into minutes, she frowned harder. He could feel the tension in her. At last she opened her eyes. “I only get darkness.”

“You mean you don’t see anything?”

“No. I mean it’s dark. Maybe it’s inside something—a box, a drawer . . . ”

“A safe?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t tell.”

“And you can’t pinpoint better where it’s at in the house?”

“Maybe if I was closer, or inside the house.” She shrugged, the movement doing enticing things to her chest.

Charlie tore his eyes away from how the clingy white top lovingly cupped her breasts. “I don’t know if I can get you in the house or not.”

“I can’t trespass, Charlie. My father’s a cop.”

“It’s okay. I’m used to working on my own. Thanks for your help. You saved me hours, maybe days of stake-outs.”

“You’re welcome.”

Charlie gathered his pictures into the manila file folder. He’d made it through this time with Juliana without making love to her. He’d better vamoose while both their good intentions were intact.

Juliana walked him to the door. He turned, his gaze sweeping from her tousled waves down to her glossy-painted toenails for what might be the last time. Her face hadn’t changed; it was the same one that was branded on his heart. But her body had become a sexy, desirable one, one that he’d explored in the most intimate ways mere hours ago. One he wanted to explore again.

She studied him, too. Her eyes were soft with memories, perhaps the same ones playing in his mind.

Her full lips beckoned. What could it hurt to kiss her good-bye? He knew what, but he couldn’t fight the urge to taste their succulent warmth one last time.

Charlie moved closer and leaned down to her. Juliana’s eyes widened and her lips parted. He took possession of them. Desire surged up inside him. His arm stole around her bare waist and he pulled her to him, pressing her tight against his hungry flesh. He kissed her again and again, trying to assuage a need only she awoke. His erection was a burning brand between them.

Juliana’s arms climbed his back. Her hips strained against his aching cock. She made needy sounds against his lips.

Need clawed at him. He turned with her and pressed her against her apartment wall. The file folder slid from his hand. Her thigh climbed his hip, opening her to him. He tore at his pants fly, snapping off the button in his haste. Juliana’s hands interfered as he worked at getting his pants open. He gave way to her insistent fingers, instead reaching for the condom in his pocket. Had he known, suspected . . . or hoped? Rational thought fled when she thrust her hand into his opened slacks and dived into his underwear to grip his cock. He groaned. It felt so good.

Charlie had enough brains left to push his pants and underwear down. Juliana helped him with the condom, although she nearly ended the encounter with her sensual handling. Then he slid his hands under that inviting skirt—did he have a thing about skirts?—up her smooth, firm thighs to her hips, and hit skin all the way.

“No panties,” he panted.

Juliana lifted her leg in invitation. “They get in the way.”

Charlie pressed his cock between her legs. “Too right.” With one urgent thrust he filled her. They both groaned. Her pussy gripped him tight, her body’s adjustments caressing his length.

God, it felt so good to be inside her again. But he had to move. He pressed her against the wall as he stroked into her tight body. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to bare and suck her succulent breasts. But need overpowered all else, the need to fuse his body with hers.