Trouble (5 page)

“So why are you still in here with me?” he asked softly.

Dara stiffened. She couldn't decide which was worse: his frankness or his arrogance.

“You know what? It's too crowded in here with the two of us and your ego, so I'll just leave.”

“No,”
he said, quickly putting his hand on her arm to stop her.

She froze, startled by the heat of his hand on her bare arm.

By his gentle strength and urgency.

By the growing longing inside her.

“Stay with me,” he said huskily. His hand slid down her arm and twined her fingers in his firm, warm grip. “Please.”

God, he feels good
, she thought, goose bumps fanning out from the contact point between them.

But she was already halfway lost. She didn't dare hang around until it became all the way.

She hesitated, staring into his dark eyes until …

All by themselves, her fingers curled around his hand. Her head nodded yes. Looking down at their hands, enthralled by the juxtaposition of his darker skin against her lighter skin and the sight of her smaller fingers engulfed by his bigger ones, she let him tug her back a couple of steps to the sofa, where they sat.

And when she pulled her hand free, she couldn't resist sliding her palm across his, just so she could stockpile the feeling of his skin against hers so it would last until she felt it again.

“Thanks.” Mike's fingers instinctively curled into his palm, determined to hang onto Dara's body heat for as long as possible. So this was what humility felt like, eh? Begging someone not to walk out on you and being fall-to-your-knees grateful when they didn't? If so, he wasn't sure he liked it. On the other hand, he was sure he'd do it again, in a second, to keep her here with him. “For staying.”

She nodded, her gaze moving away from him. Shifting restlessly, she smoothed her hair and tossed it over her shoulder.

He hesitated, a million questions he wanted to ask her vying with his determination not to drive her away.

“Why didn't you leave?”

Shaky laugh. “No idea.”

“Ouch. I'll pretend you said my animal magnetism kept you here.”

Another laugh. “With you? I'm guessing that's what you heard no matter what I said.”

Man, he liked this one. It took every ounce of energy he'd ever possessed not to reach for her face and pull her in for a kiss.

This one might get under his skin. She might be trouble.

It'd been a mistake to touch her. Now that he'd felt the smoothness of her skin, he was dying to touch the rest of her. He needed to know whether her lips were as soft as her breasts, wanted to feel the heat of her thighs and her hips and the leap of her muscles as he trailed his fingers along her belly. He had the unshakable feeling that waiting to make love to her would be the hardest thing he'd ever done.

Looking away, he blew out a breath and ran a hand over his nape—two moves that did nothing to cool his hot blood.

First things first, Baldwin
, he told himself, facing her again.

“What's your name?”

“Dara Williams.”

“You're a first-year?”

“Yes. Does it show?”

He shrugged. “I know I've never seen you before, so you must be a first-year. How old are you? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty-three.”

He whistled softly.

She shot him a glare. “What's that mean?”

“It means most twenty-three-year-olds I've seen recently are silly and giggly. But not you.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to categorize me,” she said sourly.

“No can do.” He grinned. “I'm going to have to put you firmly in at least one category.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Which category is that?”

Women I want to swallow whole
.

But since that wasn't the politically correct answer, he went for the G-rated version.

“Let's call it … women I want to get to know much better.”

“Oh, really? And how many dozens of other women are in this category with me?”

He stared at her, his smile fading.

“None.”

Her searching gaze held his for a breathless pause.

Giving in to temptation, he reached out, caught a shining lock of hair near her cheek and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. When her breath hitched, he felt the vibration through the silken strands.

She did not pull away.

He watched her, waiting.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Ancient compared to you. Thirty-four.”

She laughed and tossed her head, breaking the physical tie between them. “You probably have a good year or two left.”

“Let's hope. Where are you from, Dara?”

“Chicago, but I graduated from Michigan last spring.”

Michigan
. That confirmed his suspicions that this girl was really smart. Good. He wanted someone to share the
New York Times
with over breakfast.

“What's your degree in?”

“English literature.”

“So why aren't you writing novels or teaching creative writing?”

Another laugh. “I've always had this strange desire to be a lawyer.”

Dara's desires. Well, that topic definitely required exploring.

“And do you have any other strange desires?”

A delightful flush crept over her cheeks. “None that I'd care to share right now,” she said primly.

He could kiss her now, he realized, thrilled. She wanted him to; her glowing face and sparkling eyes told him so. Well, he wanted her begging for his touch. He wanted her to be as sure as he was. He would never force her into anything. So he steered his mind back to their conversation.

“What kind of lawyer do you want to be?” he asked.

“Why don't you just give me a written questionnaire to fill out? Maybe that would be easier.”

Now he laughed. “I'm a pretty good criminal attorney, Dara. When I ask questions, I expect you to answer them. Or else I'll have to treat you like a hostile witness.”

“And how is that?”

“Not pretty.”

“Duly noted. What was the question again?”

A response eluded him for a couple beats because his attention had snagged on her dewy lips. He wanted to taste those lips. To lick and bite them. To feel them running over his body, trailed by that silky hair.

“What, ah, what kind of lawyer do you want to be?” he repeated, his runaway fantasies making his voice hoarse.

“I'm not sure. My father is a federal judge in Chicago. Maybe criminal law. Maybe employment law.”

“What about your mother?”

“She's a nurse.”

“Brothers and sisters?”

“None.”

“No brothers and sisters? You're spoiled, then.”

Mischief glimmered in her eyes. “I'm an angel. As long as I get what I want when I want it.”

Mike didn't believe her for a minute. He'd bet his last dollar she had a temper to match his. But there
was
something angelic about her. Something sweet that attracted him like a hummingbird to an azalea in full bloom.

“You have the face of an angel. But I think you'd drive a man crazy.”

“Oh, really? Good crazy or bad crazy?”

He cocked his head and considered. “Both.”

“Well, then, maybe you should run while you've got the chance.”

Run? Maybe he should. He was just getting to a place where his firm could turn a profit, and he really didn't need any distractions from work right now. And this girl was a walking distraction; she'd probably be a walking obsession, if he let her. But he wouldn't.

“I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he murmured.

“No? You're not too bright, then, are you?”

That made him laugh. “Did anyone ever tell you you've got a smart mouth?”

Dara beamed. “You wouldn't be the first. Anyone ever tell you you're arrogant and nosy?”

He laughed again. “I was right. I knew when I first saw you that you would never be boring.”

“When you first saw me? Was that before or after you undressed me with your eyes?”

Whoa. She liked to have all the cards out on the table. Well, so did he. Even so, he hesitated.

“Don't ask me a question unless you're ready to hear my answer,” he warned softly.

Dara kept quiet.

So he took her wary silence as permission to speak freely. And to touch her again.

He raised his hand and very gently and slowly ran his fingers down the side of her face, from her temple to her chin, then ran his thumb around her velvety bottom lip. She gasped and her lids lowered a little, as if she wanted to close her eyes and give herself over to the moment.

“When I undressed you with my eyes and saw how you looked back at me, I wished I could take you home and make love to you.”

Beneath his fingertips, he felt the sudden tension in her muscles.

Mike froze.

You had to go too far, didn't you, jackass?

She got up and glared down at him. “You take way too much for granted.”

Mike stood too, wishing he hadn't said so much this soon, but willing to own it anyway. He wanted her and fully intended to have her, sooner rather than later. They'd have to deal with it.

“Dara—”

A light tap on the open door startled them both. They looked around just as Sean poked his head in.

“You in there, Dara?”

Mike scrubbed a hand over his chin in frustration. The party and his brother were the very last things on his mind at the moment.

“What's up, man?” he asked coolly, hoping Sean would take the hint and get out of there as soon as possible.

But Sean went straight for Dara and, to Mike's astonishment, folded her into a bear hug. “You look beautiful. Like always.”

“Hey, Sean.” Dara stiffened and stepped back, color flooding her face. “Where did you come from?”

“I came to find you. What're you doing down here?”

“I came to see Professor Stallworth's slave memorabilia,” she said, gesturing vaguely to one of the framed posters.

A terrible, heavy feeling grew in Mike's belly while he watched this interchange. He was putting two and two together and discovering he really hated the number four.

“You know Dara?” he asked Sean.

“I told you about Dara, man,” Sean said, shooting him a significant look.

Mike forced himself to take a good look at his brother, whose feet barely touched the ground. Sean glowed like a sixteen-year-old with his first car. Mike's heavy feeling, meanwhile, coalesced into a sickening lump of dread.

“
This
is the woman you told me about?” Mike asked, wanting to suspend time at that moment, before Sean answered, because he didn't really want to know. The bottom line was that if Sean had had this woman, or thought he was in love with this woman, then he, Mike, could never have her. Sean barely tolerated him now as it was. If he made a move on Sean's woman, Sean would hate him forever. And if Sean hated him, he couldn't repair their relationship.

It was simple, really: Mike couldn't have Dara and keep his promise to his sick mother.

He had to choose: he could heal his family, or he could go after Dara. He couldn't do both.

“This is the woman,” Sean said.

Mike stilled, absorbing that information like a brass-knuckled punch to the gut.

“How do you two know each other?” Dara asked warily.

“Sean's my brother,” Mike said.

“Oh,” she said blankly, staring at him.

His brain spun in frantic circles, looking for loopholes.

Exactly what had Sean said about his relationship with Dara? That they were already involved? He couldn't make himself believe it. It was like staring at the Statue of Liberty and having someone try to convince him it was the Eiffel Tower. He'd thought Dara was into him, but maybe he'd imagined it.

He stared at her, all but choking on his disbelief.

Was this beautiful woman sleeping with his brother? In love with his brother? Had Sean touched that silky skin, run his fingers through that shining hair, and kneaded those breasts and that ass? Had Dara moaned for him? Cried out his name? Scratched his back as she came?

Bile rose in Mike's throat, threatening to gag him.

It was all a moot point anyway.

What mattered was that Sean was obviously crazy about Dara and would
never
forgive Mike if he took one look in her direction. All Sean needed was another reason to hate him.