Black Satin (LS 675) Page 6

  But he wasn’t such a bastard that he’d seduce a woman who’d probably want more—and deserve more—from him than fleeting physical release.

  And that was all he was capable of giving. All she’d get from him would be a good roll in the sack followed by a lot of pain. And he’d been the cause of far too much pain already.

  Her soft sigh broke through his dark thoughts, and his body twitched in response. Her five minutes were up.

  “About this fish thing,” he began, tilting his head forward to look at her.

  “Mammal,” she corrected, her tone distracted.

  Then, as if his voice had finally registered, her expression snapped into focus and onto him. She’d been a million miles away.

  Without thinking, he leaned forward, allowing the moonlight to spill fully across her face. Her soft lips were bracketed by shallow grooves of concern. She was really worried about that damn fish.

  He let loose a deep sigh. He’d like to think he was about to do her a favor. Only he knew better. Maybe he was more of a bastard than he’d thought. The idea depressed him. “Tell me who stole your fi—” He broke off, a slight smile curving his lips at her raised brow and narrow gaze. “Mammal. Who, Kira?”

  The way he said her name gave Kira an inexplicable sense of security. A feeling she’d never thought to have around a man like Cole Sinclair. But she wasn’t over the hump yet. When he heard who’d stolen P.J., she might very well find herself taking a quick hike back down the pier.

  She looked him straight in the eye, knowing it was imperative that she speak with total conviction. “Juan Carlos Martinez.”

  Cole’s eyes widened, and he sagged momentarily against the railing. Then he tipped his head back and laughed.

  If she hadn’t been so startled by the rich, full-bodied sound rumbling out of him, she would have been angry. “I take it you know who Martinez is?”

  “If you mean do I know he’s one of the most reclusive wealthy men to reside in the Keys, then the answer is yes. My question is do you have any idea just how Juan Carlos racked up all those zeros on his bank balance? Why he lives on his own key in virtual seclusion?”

  “For the same reason you do, I imagine.” Judging from the muscles clenching and unclenching his jaw, she’d surprised him with that one. She hurried to press her momentary advantage. “Men who run illegal contraband between the States and Cuba aren’t usually comfortable in the spotlight, Mr. Sinclair. But then, I suspect you know that.”

  A slow smile crossed his face, but this time it held little humor. In fact, the gleam in his eyes gave her the distinct impression she’d just said the wrong thing.

  He stepped away from the railing and she had to exert all her self-control not to flinch. He was at least half a foot taller than she, and his close stance forced her head back to maintain eye contact. It wasn’t exactly a subtle form of intimidation, but it was very effective.

  “Don’t make judgments about things or people that you know nothing about. And don’t believe everything you hear. As far as Juan Carlos is concerned, let’s just say that if he does have your dolphin, then you might as well grab your nets and head out to sea to catch another one.”

  “No.”

  Cole shook his head, trying to hold his temper in check. This made two times in two days he’d had his control tested. Both of those occurrences were the fault of the woman standing in front of him. Question was, why did he let her get away with it? He forced his clenched muscles to relax. This was not his problem. She was not his concern.

  “You have a death wish, sweet lips? That’s fine by me. You go right ahead and try to steal your dolphin back. But count me out.”

  He leaned against the railing, crossing his arms in calculated nonchalance. The silence stretched out for several long minutes. He knew the instant she realized she’d lost. The tension in her jawline disappeared as her chin dipped in resignation. But what got to him was the brief flash of disappointment that had flickered through her diamond eyes. Not disappointment that she’d lost P.J. Disappointment in him.

  And damn her, it jerked a tiny response from him.

  “Well, it seems as if our business is concluded, then,” she said softly. Any trace of what he’d seen in her eyes was gone, replaced by an irritating calm that shook his control more than her smart mouth ever had.

  “Thank you for the beer, Mr. Sinclair.”

  She was two steps away before he acted. With a whispered oath he shoved off the railing. He raised a hand to stop her, but she halted when she heard the deck creak under his heavy weight. His hand dropped to his side, his fingers curling into a slowly tightening fist. Another long pause. “Don’t go.”

  Her entire body stiffened. “What did you say?” Her voice was low, barely above a whisper.

  Cole exhaled heavily. “Do you make things this hard on every man you meet? Or is it just me you take pleasure in tormenting?”

  She turned then, her eyes wide with surprise and not a little aggravation. “Me torment you?” It was her turn to snort in disgust. “As far as I can tell, you’re the one who’s always in a foul mood.” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “And don’t you think if it were as simple as catching another dolphin, I’d have done that? Even if I could, capturing them is illegal unless you have a permit.”

  “But stealing a dolphin from one of the world’s biggest crime bosses is okay?”

  “Listen, mister, everything I’ve worked long and hard to achieve is on the line here. If I fail, it’s not just me who suffers. You might think this is a lark, but I assure you the kids P.J. works with don’t think so. If you’d come to the institute like I’d asked you to, you’d have seen that for yourself. Apparently, you had better things to do.” She raised her hands as if to say she couldn’t imagine what that could be.

  Cole didn’t much like her low opinion of him, which was strange since for the past couple of years he’d never cared what anyone thought about him. “I’m not a detective on a case, Ms. Douglass,” he shot back, with emphasis on her name. “I don’t work for you.”

  She swept a look of pure disdain over his onetime luxurious houseboat. “From the looks of things, you hardly work at all.”

  He grabbed her arms and tugged her until she came up hard against his chest. Pushing his face close to hers, he said, “For a woman who runs a school, you aren’t very smart. You say I’m some low-life smuggler. If I was as low and amoral as you seem to believe—hell, maybe you even want me to be—then don’t you think it would be wise not to rile me?” He pushed her away but kept his hold on her arms. “There’s a whole bunch of empty swamp between you and anything resembling help out there. Now I’d suggest you close those pouty little lips and take that sweet fanny of yours and hightail it back to your car as fast as you can.”

  Kira’s chest rose and fell in an effort to regain the breath that had been knocked out of her when he’d yanked her against him. The last time she’d been that close, he’d been kissing her. She wasn’t sure which episode bothered her the most. She shouldn’t have needed to be told to run and run fast. Common sense alone should have warned her she was taking a huge risk by goading him. But for a man who’d gone out of his way to keep her safe, even to the extent of taking on a bar full of bikers, he was working awfully hard to convince her she was in danger from him.

  Or was he trying to convince himself?

  She shook off that thought. She knew better than to assume he had any morals. His kiss had been the most amoral thing she’d ever experienced.

  But the fact remained that she didn’t think he’d hurt her. “If you think I’m in so much danger, then why did you ask me to stay a few minutes ago?”

  He studied her much the same way she’d studied him earlier. “I’m not sure,” he answered finally. The menace had disappeared from his voice, leaving a strange weariness that tugged at her despite the warnings to herself not to soften toward him. “But I imagine it’s the same reason you didn’t run away when you had the chance.”

 
His eyes were so dark they held no light at all. Kira didn’t mistake his meaning. “Is that the deal then? You’ll help me if I … stay?”

  He smiled. The shine of white teeth played off the bottomless black pools of his eyes, giving him an aura the other side of wicked. It was then Kira realized, deep down, that the reason she’d felt safe was because she truly hadn’t believed all the rumors about his notorious past.

  She did now. And still she stood there, waiting for his response with a rush of anticipation that had little to do with rescuing P.J. and a whole lot to do with finding out whether he intended to use his body to deliver the promise he was making with his smile.

  “What exactly are you offering, Kira?”

  Heat crept over her skin until her body felt as if it were on fire. She wished he’d stop staring at her like that. She wished he’d do something to put the fire out.

  She should be angry with him for even insinuating she’d barter her body in return for his help. But it felt a bit hypocritical to deny the unsettling attraction that was simmering between them. Had been since she’d walked up to him in Repo’s charming establishment. Still, that didn’t mean she was ready to hit the sheets with him. For herself or P.J.

  Did it?

  She forced herself to maintain eye contact. “I won’t deny there is … something happening.” Her voice was even, but damnably husky. His smile broadened. “As unlikely as it seems,” she added sharply.

  Cole stepped toward her again, bringing them within a breath of contact. “Spell it out for me, Kira. Are you saying that if I help you, you’ll go to bed with me?”

  Kira had to tilt her head back to look at him, but she thrust her chin out a bit farther to let him know she wasn’t intimidated by his frank conclusion. “If that’s what it takes,” she answered, her voice vibrating slightly. Had she just said that? She fought hard to convince herself it was purely self-sacrifice for P.J.’s sake.

  Cole chuckled softly as he ran a callused finger along her jawline and around the curve of her chin. He pressed his fingertip gently into the soft indentation beneath her lips, parting them slightly. “You know as well as I do that I could have you in my bed—with or without a promise to help you.”

  Kira was stung, even as she grudgingly admitted the probable truth of his statement. But before she could shoot back, he lowered his head until his lips were almost touching hers.

  His breath teased her lips with heat. “I’ll help you, sweet lips,” he said, his voice rough. “But not for sex.”

  FIVE

  Kira had to work hard to keep her thoughts on track. “What then? What do you want?” As if it mattered, her mind jeered. And at that moment she wasn’t too certain she would mind if he did want her in trade for his help.

  He was going to kiss her. Every inch of her body knew it. She just wished he’d hurry up and do it.

  “We can discuss that later.” He brushed her lips with his in a manner that was more torture than kiss. “Much later.”

  His hand slid down to the side of her neck, and he gently pressed his fingers against her nape until her mouth fitted perfectly against his. The instant her lips parted, he deepened the contact. His lips pressed hard against hers as his tongue stole into her mouth, sampling her as if she were a fine and rare wine. The unexpectedly potent combination of the force of his lips and the gentle assault of his tongue sent Kira’s surroundings spinning away. Her sole focus became his mouth on hers, the way he possessed her mouth, bonded with her in such an elemental way, she felt as if she’d carry his mark forever. Proudly.

  She wanted to reach up to grip his shoulders, as much for the tactile need to feel the strength in him as for support, but her hands were trapped between them. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her until she felt surrounded by a wall of muscled security. She should have felt threatened by his size and strength, but all she could think was that no one and nothing could reach her in the sanctity of his arms. It was a luxury she truly couldn’t afford. She had to keep her head clear. P.J.’s—not to mention the institute’s—future rested entirely on her. But it was so tempting, even for a minute or two, to let someone else help her carry the burden.

  She started to pull away, but Cole tightened his hold on her. His kiss changed slightly, still dominant and possessive, but demanding in a different way. Almost as if he sought the same refuge in her arms as she sought in his. It was a foolish and dangerous notion, thinking he was vulnerable to her in even the slightest way. Even in her highly aroused state she knew she’d be a fool to fall for that again. Yet she sensed the desperation in his touch and was helpless in fighting the need to give back to him what he seemed so effortlessly to give to her. She moved to change the kiss, to give instead of receive.

  But Cole was having none of it. He seemed to be content to continue to make love to her mouth all night if she’d let him. Make love. Yes, Kira thought, for all the power and force behind his kiss, it was lovemaking.

  With renewed determination she tried slowly to push his tongue with her own, silently asking permission to pleasure his mouth the way he’d pleasured hers. Abruptly he pulled his lips from hers, tucking her head against his chest and gently holding it there. She felt his hand move in slow strokes over her hair. For a while she simply stood in his arms, both of them breathing raggedly, hearts pounding.

  Finally Cole leaned away and cupped the back of her head, tilting it gently back until her eyes met his. His gaze was dark, flat. His lips, swollen seductively from his heated assault, were the only outward sign that he’d felt any passion at all.

  “We will spend time in bed together, Kira,” he whispered, his voice raw, his expression fierce. “But because we both want to. Not as a payoff.”

  Kira wanted to tell him that he was wrong. The intensity behind the words and his expression made it clear he wanted her. But she knew better than to confuse want with need. She wished it were as simple as wanting him.

  She suddenly felt more smothered than secure. She desperately needed some air and time to think. Aware that she was no match for his strength, she still instinctively pushed against his chest. She sighed in relief when he dropped his arms. She devoutly ignored the flash of abandonment that accompanied it. Distance. She took several steps away from him, forcing herself to pull the salty night air slowly into her lungs. When she thought she could speak without that embarrassing huskiness, she turned to face him.

  Cole had retreated to the opposite side of the small deck and was nursing his beer. It was as if he’d never touched her. When she spoke, he turned his full attention on her. Immediately, she felt his touch all over again. Would she ever get used to that penetrating black-eyed stare?

  “If you’re willing to help, then I think we’d better go over what I’ve learned so far.” She strove to keep her tone neutral. But under his scrutiny, she was only marginally successful.

  After a moment of tense silence he turned and placed his bottle back on the bench beside him, then looked back at her. She felt a momentary frisson race down her spine as it hit her that after all of this, he still might turn her down. Uneasily, she realized that her need for him to say yes went beyond her need to rescue P.J.

  “I’m always willing, Kira,” he said finally.

  The breath she’d been holding puffed out in a silent rush. It was difficult to ignore the effect those words had on her already overheated libido, but she doggedly pursued her original train of thought. “Is there somewhere we could sit down to talk? Inside maybe?”

  Cole glanced through the sliding-glass doors into the darkened living room. “Too muggy. Why don’t we go up top?”

  Characteristically he simply stepped over to the ladder to the top deck and motioned for her to go up first. She hurried to the ladder before he could change his mind and quickly climbed to the top. Cole hoisted himself over the top rung a moment later.

  The upper deck was railed in and consisted of the steering console and a padded bench. The canvas top that provided cover from the sun ha
d been tacked down, leaving them bathed in moonlight. Cole tossed a couple of cushions down, silently motioning her to make herself comfortable opposite him.

  Kira sat Indian fashion and rested her back lightly against the wall. Cole stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. His feet rested against the edge of her cushion. Kira fought the urge to let her gaze drift from his bare feet up along his denim-clad legs. Instead, she shifted slightly and looked out over the moonlit water.

  Cole remained silent, apparently waiting for her to begin. Kira felt at once calm and flustered. The air was warm and the moon bright, but Cole’s mere presence made the peaceful surroundings seem fraught with tension. But it was an addictive, intimate sort of tension that she almost enjoyed.

  “After P.J. was discovered missing,” she began, “I questioned all of my employees. We have eight. We also occasionally have college students conducting various studies at the institute, but none at the moment. The only other people with access to Dr. Dolphin are the various physicians and therapists who use the facilities for their patients.”

  She paused, glancing quickly at Cole when he didn’t respond. He was staring at her intently, but he remained silent. She shifted her gaze back to the black water. “My staff isn’t paid very much.” Remembering his earlier jab, she darted a quick look at him. He inclined his head slightly, and she knew her point had been taken and smiled with satisfaction. She turned her attention back to the water. “Most of them have been with me from the beginning and are supremely dedicated to the dolphins. I know it couldn’t have been one of them.”

  “I wouldn’t rule that out.”

  She whipped her head around. “Why do you say that? You don’t even know them.”

  “You’re too defensive about it. I think you’re wondering if one of them did do it.”