What you want . . . how you want it.
THE HARD STUFF,
supersexy contemporary erotica with action that
doesn’t quit. Look for it. From Kensington . . .
1
“Who said size doesn’t matter?” Stevie asked.
Must have been a little man with a little . . .
She whistled admiringly at the package, grateful for the unexpected perk.
Grinning, she dragged her eyes for a breathless second from the high-powered telescope and looked over her shoulder. The last thing she wanted was for one of the task force guys her lieutenant insisted on saddling her with to think she was some hard-up sexpot.
She laughed out loud. Okay, maybe she was. It had been too long since she last felt the sinful pressure of a man between her legs. And it wasn’t because she was a prude. Unfortunately, the most intriguing prospects were the same ones she’d sworn off for years. Cops.
She’d learned the hard way not to be the company inkwell. Too many hassles. Too many knowing grins from her fellow officers, followed by suggestive wolf whistles.
Nope, she made damn sure she wasn’t the hot topic of any lineup. Besides, since her promotion to detective two years ago, she didn’t have time for a relationship anyway.
She shrugged and focused back on her subject.
Mario Vincente Spoltori, aka Rocky. Not an original alias, but hell, the man was a walking hard-on. And she bet he gave granite a run for its money.
She’d been surveilling the escort for nearly a week, and finally after tedious hours of watching the paint dry, she got her first look at what the privileged ladies of Sacramento couldn’t get enough of.
And mamma mia, there was plenty to go around.
She couldn’t blame the ladies who waited months to get an hour of this notorious stud’s time. No more than she could help that familiar tingle between her legs. Not for Mario. As delightful as she was sure he was in the sack, she was more straight-laced. One-nighters weren’t something she actively pursued. She’d only had one in her life, and although it was the best sex she’d ever had, and she would have followed the guy to the ends of the earth, the whole experience left her feeling . . . well, tawdry.
He never called.
No use thinking about a guy she’d never see again.
Prick.
Shaking her head, Stevie gave rock-hard Rocky her full attention, and for a minute put aside the fact he was the reason she’d worked round the clock for the last three months.
She laughed and thought how ironic her current predicament was. Here she was, a perfectly healthy female, and she was considering paying for stud service. Her life was too hectic for anything less than the occasional quickie. And as picky as she was, her options were severely limited.
Strictly as a woman to his man, Stevie considered Rocky’s slick muscles and generous endowment. She sighed. Too bad she wasn’t into this kind of stuff.
He bent over, flexing his taut ass at her, and continued the slow slide of his underwear down his thighs before he kicked them off.
Well . . . maybe . . . nah. Besides, on her cop salary she’d have to give up a lot of somethings for a roll in the hay with the likes of the Italian Stallion across the way.
“Oh, you selfish bastard.”
What a waste. Looked like Adonis was sneaking some of the goodies. As big as his cock was, his hand was larger. He stood stark naked facing her in front of his exposed window and stared across the wide boulevard that separated their respective buildings.
He smirked, closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and put on a show. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he knew he had an audience.
Impossible. While his windows were transparent, the small, stuffy office she’d begun to detest had a dark film covering the window, with just a small square cut out for her ever-watchful eyes. No way could he know he was under surveillance.
Stevie dismissed that thought and instead zeroed her attention back on what God had so benevolently given the man. His long dark fingers grasped his rod and in a slow pump he manipulated it to staggering proportions. Stevie licked her dry lips.
Jesus.
His hips ground against an imaginary pussy and he bit at his bottom lip.
Faster and faster and faster he pumped. Stevie’s breath held when he splayed himself up against the window, still pumping. Her skin warmed. She didn’t want to get sucked in by his erotic display, but she did nonetheless.
She screamed and about jumped out of her skin when the pressure of a large hand squeezed her shoulder.
“Am I interrupting?”
Her shock caused her to lose her balance and fall backward off her chair. As she was trying to catch herself, two large, very capable hands grabbed her. The touch sent shock waves through her body. She had the undeniable inclination to rub herself up against the hard thigh that supported her back.
“Christ, what the hell?” she yelled, collecting herself and sitting up. Quickly she twisted around and pulled her piece.
She felt the blood drain from her face.
Son of a bitch.
“Jack Thornton.”
“It’s been a long time, Detective Cavanaugh.” His grin rivaled a wide-open barn door. He seemed taller, more muscled. The faint smile lines at the corners of his deep-set hazel eyes accentuated his natural mischievous nature.
She braced herself.
Humiliation and excitement riveted through her, running neck and neck for the finish line. Her skin flushed hot and she resisted the urge to lick her dry lips.
Instead, she did what any woman scorned would do. She slapped him. Hard. White imprints of her fingers stood boldly out against the tan of his cheek. Before her hand returned home, he grabbed it. He yanked her hard against him, the connection forcing her breath from her chest. Her sensitive nipples stiffened against the hardness of his chest.
“Was that because I didn’t call you or because I wouldn’t let you get on top?”
Visions of their sweaty, naked bodies writhing in passion amongst the twisted sheets in her academy dorm room sprang to mind. Jack Thornton could give Rocky across the way a few lessons in pleasing a woman. Her chest tightened while other emotions she chose to ignore vied for playtime.
Stevie’s breath hitched high in her throat. “That was because you’re an egotistical bastard.” She pushed hard against him. He released her. She holstered her Sig.
Thorn continued to grin, but the harsh glare of his eyes belied his mirth. “What’s so egotistical about making love to a beautiful woman?”
Despite the warmth of the room, her nipples stood at full mast. Stevie pulled on her jacket. The last thing she wanted was to give his inquiring eyes a show.
“More like seducing a virgin.”
Thorn moved in closer. “That was your choice, Stevie, not mine.” He grinned like an idiot. “By the way, thanks for picking me.”
After so many years, the shock of seeing the only man she’d ever had feelings for forced her off balance. The sensation left her angry, and scared.
He backed up at her fist.
“Go ahead, dickhead,” she said, “keep the BS coming, I don’t need more of an excuse to nail you.”
“I need less of one to nail you.” He stepped forward, his face a happy place. “Since we’re both in agreement, what do you say, my place after we’re done here?”
“Pig.”
“Pride in Grace, don’t I know it.”
Stevie couldn’t believe it. The only guy she’d dreamed about stood in front of her more than willing to go back down that seductive road with her. If her pride weren’t at stake, and her heart unwilling to get squashed again, she’d have her running shoes on.
“What are you doing here?”
Casually he walked past her and looked out the tinted window. He gave the long expanse of buildings quiet contemplation. As if he’d just come back from a coffee break, he righted the tipped-over chair, then sat down and focused in across the way.
“Hmm, looks like the Italian Stallion over there needs clean up on aisle nine.”
Regaining her composure, Stevie swung the lens from him, and squatting level with it, she zeroed in herself. Geez, Rocky had his chum all over the window. “I swear, you guys just love to spread that stuff around, don’t you?”
Thorn pulled the lens his way and refocused. “Yeah, it’s what we do. Men hunt and propagate the species, women nurture and gather. Basic.”
Stevie’s eyes narrowed. Neanderthal. She’d been too starry-eyed to see it in the academy seven years ago; at least she’d evolved since then.
She pulled the lens back her way and focused on Rocky. “That’s it, clean up your mess,” she said to the gigolo. Then, as if to herself, she said, “I wonder if there was some kind of statute back then about instructors fraternizing with students?”
Thorn leaned in behind her. “No.” His hot breath against her ear stirred up old familiar heat. His clean, woodsy scent engulfed her. Her blood thickened in her veins and whatever hormones she had that induced sex surged through her body. She clenched her muscles before they turned to warm mush.
Stevie remembered how she couldn’t wait for her defensive tactics classes. Sergeant Jack Thornton was the instructor, and she repeatedly paid with bruises to be his test dummy.
She almost laughed. She’d had such a crush on him from the get-go. Little did she know she’d end up his parting gift.
“How’s the wife and kid?”
He pulled away. “You know my divorce was final before graduation.” His eyes clouded. “My stepson is with his father.”
Stevie inhaled a deep breath and slowly exhaled. She didn’t give a rat’s ass about his home life.
“What are you doing here, Thorn?”
He grinned and stood back from the telescope. Casually he pulled back his Italian-cut suit and said, “Special Agent Thornton at your service, ma’am.”
She hissed in a long breath, giving him a sideways glare. So the rumors were true. He’d dumped her for Quantico. “You damned feds, why the hell can’t you leave us locals alone? Go fight your own crime.”
She turned away from him, settled back on the chair he’d vacated, and refocused on Studly. “Now you made me lose him. Get out of here.”
“Sorry, Detective, your crime has become our crime. We’re taking over from here.”
“That’s a crock, Thornton. Me and my men have been working this case around the clock since the first body showed up. County is coming in to help out, and I’m lead dick.” She smiled tightly, keeping her eyes focused on Spoltori. “You’ve been misinformed.”
When there was no response from him, she looked up to find him staring down at her. His eyes narrowed and a slow tic worked his right jawline. “I’m not going to get into a pissing match with you, Cavanaugh. Your chief requested we come in. We’re here, I’m heading up the task force.”
Stevie sprang out of the chair, throwing her shoulders back. Her antagonism mushroomed when he chuckled and said, “You’ve been assigned to tag along for the ride.” He lowered his voice as if there were others in the room who had no business listening in on their conversation. “And, Stevie, I promise you a helluva ride.”
Fury infiltrated every cell she possessed. She worked her fists open and closed. “You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve coming in here, telling me you’re taking over my case and then propositioning me. Do you think so damned much of yourself or so little of me?”
Thorn’s wide-eyed reaction gave her a modicum of satisfaction. He quickly recovered. “I’m sorry if I’ve given you the impression I have no respect for you, Detective.” He grinned. “I think I can say with some accuracy you’re one of the best cops out there. You should be, I trained you.”
“You trained me all right.” The words escaped before she could call them back. He not only mentored her in the classroom and spent countless hours coaching her on the shooting range and in defensive tactics, but he taught her how to ride out an orgasm for maximum satisfaction among other sexy little tricks. She squashed the memories and the heat that accompanied them.
Never bashful, she gave her one-night stand a long discriminating look. She would never admit she liked what she saw. He was taller than her five-eight by a good half a foot. His shoulders looked like a linebacker’s, built into a rock-hard chest that tapered down to a washboard belly and further to a package that never reclined. The guy had the stamina of a prize bull.
She snorted in contempt. “You taught me my biggest life lesson to date.” She traced a finger down his silk tie. “Trust no one.” She stepped back and added, “By the way, I don’t go for carnie rides.”
His full lips slid into a tantalizing smile. His long tanned fingers slid into his trouser pockets. “Anytime you change your mind, Detective, let me know.”
“Don’t hold your breath. You’ll suffocate if you do.”
She turned back to Rocky. He’d disappeared. Probably into the shower. Their guy had an unhealthy fixation with showerheads.
Thorn pulled up the only other piece of furniture in the empty office. A straight-back chair.
“Look, Stevie, I took this case on to work with you, not against you.”
Her gut clenched. “You knew this was my case?”
He nodded. “I always do my homework. Tell you what, you can keep your people, but understand they’ll have to get along with mine.”
Her anger flashed. This was her case, damn it! She’d be damned if she’d just step aside.
“C’mon, Detective, show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” Thorn offered.
Stevie grunted and, knowing he wanted to trade information, she gave him something else. She pulled her Sig. “Mine’s loaded.”
He smiled again, his white teeth gleaming in the filtered afternoon light. “Mine’s bigger.” He pulled a mini assault pistol from his shoulder holster.
Stevie whistled. “Nice piece.” Replacing her weapon, she reached out her hand, palm up. “Can I touch it?”
His grin turned lethal. He handed her the weapon, his fingertips brushing her palm. Stevie ignored the warm flush the contact instigated.
“Be careful, it’s cocked and will discharge at the slightest provocation.”
Stevie ignored him, and ran her fingers along the smooth cold steel. She wanted one.
“The magazine holds twenty-two rounds and can discharge the whole wad in less than two seconds.”
Her eyes met his. A flash of heat speared her pussy. “What’s the fun in that?”
He reached out his hand and slowly withdrew the pistol, the short barrel sliding against her moist palm. In a quick movement he ejected the magazine and replaced it with another one he pulled from his jacket pocket. “Lots. It’s ready for firing in less time than it takes to clean up from the first barrage.”
Stevie ignored the warm wetness between her thighs and the way his nostrils flared like a dog sniffing its mate’s sex.
She recognized trouble when she met it. She couldn’t do this. “I’ll pack up and leave you and Studly to get to know each other.”
She bent down to pick up her backpack, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her up and against him. The palpable tension jolted them both. “You’re not going anywhere, Detective. You know this guy better than his mother. You’re stuck with me.”
She yanked her arm.
“Take it up with your boss if you have a problem.”
A rill of frustration swept through her. The last thing she wanted was to spend her days in this stuffy office across the street from a serial killing man–whore, and watch the guy do half of Sacramento’s political wives, with her ex-lover breathing down her neck. She glanced at the three photos of the lifeless victims she’d tacked up on the wall, a constant reminder of why she was there. Her gut somersaulted.
She could do this with her own people, she was a proven detective. But now? With Thorn as a constant distraction? She scowled. No way.
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’ll quit before I’d hole up with you eight hours a day waiting to get a lead on Romeo over there.”
His eyes narrowed, their gold-green irises flaring jade. “I thought you were better trained than that, Detective. Can’t stand a little heat? What the hell kind of cop are you anyway?”
That did it. She went toe to toe with him. In the breath of a second she was in his face, her chin notched high, her eyelids narrowed, her back stiffened. “The kind that has some integrity and doesn’t have to put up with a sex-crazed fed.”
“Chicken.”
“Taunting me won’t get you a thing, Thorn. I don’t have to work with you. I won’t work with you. I’d rather spend the day with Lothario over there and take my chances. At least with him I won’t have to play games.”
He laughed deeply. “I don’t play games, Detective. I play for real.” He leaned into her, his face only a few inches from hers. She could see the golden flecks in his eyes and smell the minty warmth of his breath. “That guy is connected to three dead women, and I aim to nab him before he does another one. Take another look at those faces, Detective.” He pointed at the wall of death.
Dead eyes stared at her, begging to be put to rest.
“I’d work with the Wicked Witch of the West if it would bring the victims justice.”
Her fists clenched and unclenched. Damn him! “My responsibility is also to the victims. But how the hell am I supposed to do my job with you breathing down my neck like a dog denied?”
“Consider it an adverse condition and deal with it.”
Stevie growled. As much as she didn’t want to work with Thorn she wanted to nail Spoltori more. She had a responsibility to the families of the victims and to the victims themselves. No one deserved to die the way those women had. She smiled blithely. Not even Jack Thornton.
“I’ll work with you, Jack. But let’s get a few facts straight first. You touch me, I punch you.” She grabbed a handful of her breasts. She smiled inwardly at his sharp intake of breath. “These are mine. I only share if I want to. Touch them and I’ll geld you.”
Thorn laughed, the sound deep and mellow. “Oh, Stevie, I wish I’d had another day to spend with you.”
She stepped back, sliding her hands into her jeans pockets. How many times through her haze of anger when she discovered him gone had she wished for the same thing?
“Yeah, me too. It would have taken me no time to skin you alive.”
She was spared Thorn’s response when another suit walked in. She deduced before Thorn’s intro he was another fed.
“Detective Cavanaugh, meet Agent Deavers. He’s my communications specialist.”
Stevie extended her hand to the tall, handsome agent. “I’d say I’m glad to meet you, Deavers, but under the circumstances I’m feeling a little bit cheated.”
He nodded and gave Thorn a knowing look. “We get that a lot.”
Stevie gave Thorn a hard look. “We’re already set up in my office, what do you say we use that as HQ for our party?”
Both men nodded, and it was a small consolation.