“At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.” ~ Plato
“Carissa, I can’t believe how long it’s been.” Her aunt Paula stood on the front porch, giddy and excited.
She dropped her bags and stepped into her aunt’s squealing cries of happiness and warm embrace. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her until the familiar scent of tuberose and gardenias tickled her nose. As a child, she’d spent the summers at her aunt’s house. She and her cousin Chloe had got along famously, but Chloe married an Englishman, and moved to the U.K. What was his name again? Garrison? Better not embarrass myself.
“Too long, Thitsa.” She used the Greek endearment and her aunt squeezed her harder. She couldn’t help the joy that pounded behind her breastbone. They were both giving off blissful emotions—a euphoric moment that showed too much time had passed between seeing family.
“Come, let’s get you settled, and tomorrow, we are going shopping,” her aunt said, her face full of excitement.
Oh gods, she’s planning something. She bit the inside of her lip. Carissa hoped it didn’t involve another male. Her aunt had triumphantly introduced and arranged marriages for several of Carissa’s cousins, earning her the title of Queen of Marital Hookups, or proxies as they called them in American-Greek.
“Thitsa, I hope you aren’t concocting any of your whacky ideas and schemes.”
“Me? No. Just a bit of dress shopping.” But her aunt’s expression told her that behind that word no there’d be a barrage of hidden plans.
“That’s not very convincing, you know, and besides, I have a dress and I don’t need another one.” She frowned, never one to like it when people thought they knew best when it came to what she needed.
“I know, but since I haven’t seen you in a long time, I thought it would be nice if I could do something nice for you.” Her aunt gave her that megawatt smile and puppy-dog-eyes look that had always been her weakness. Hard to refuse anyone with that look.
“Okay, but I’m warning you, I have a gun. No funny business, okay?”
“No funny business, and I’ll tell you what you can do with your gun,” her aunt said, smiling.
She enjoyed her aunt’s company and wit, although Carissa’s gut warned her that her not-so-innocent aunt was up to something. Still, she’d wait and see. Date flops were her specialty, and if she knew her thitsa, this would be a Find-Carissa-a-Man mission and another date-flop notch to add onto the proverbial belt.
Aunt Paula led her to the spare room she used to sleep in when she visited as a kid. She stepped in, dropped her bags in the middle of the floor and closed her eyes for a moment, letting all her childhood memories assail her. A bigger bed now sat in the middle and the pretty pink wallpaper had been removed, but it still felt and smelled like the same old room. A huge grin spread over her face.
“I’ll let you get settled, and I’ve got some spanakopita for you in the kitchen.”
Not wasting any time, Carissa unpacked the bags she’d dumped in the center of the room.
When she entered the kitchen, her senses were assaulted with the decadent aromas of the Greek food on the table. A gorgeous spread lay perfectly before her eyes. Roast chicken with lemon potatoes, the promised spinach and cheese pie, salad with a huge slab of Dodoni feta piled on top, olives and bread. Her mouth watered—the kind of watering where you think you’ve been in the Sahara Desert without water or food for far too long. This feast would nourish and replenish her battered body and messed-up brain. Eat and forget about tall warriors with swords and everything else.
“Wow, this looks great. You shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble, Thitsa.” She pulled a chair out and dropped her weight into it.
“Don’t be silly, it’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing to me. You’ve been cooking all day.”
“This? No! Just a few hours. Besides, it’s nice to have some family here. I miss my Chloe.” Tears pooled in her eyes.
Carissa leaned over the table and gave her aunt’s hand a squeeze for comfort, but her tears kept coming. Then she broke out with the same old sad story about the death of her husband, and Chloe leaving.
Carissa did what was needed ... she listened. Honestly, we Greeks excel at tragedy. When her aunt finally got it all under control, she said what she thought her aunt wanted to hear. “I have a hard time too, but you know what? We’ve still got each other and I promise I’ll try and make a trip up every couple of months.” She knew how it hurt to lose a loved one and how, at times, the loneliness became a huge weight on the heart.
“Oh, Carissa, I’m being selfish. I know it’s harder for you.” Aunt Paula wiped her eyes with a tissue and amazingly, her tears stopped. “Let’s eat,” she exclaimed with newfound gusto.
She didn’t wait for her aunt to say it again. The burst of flavors on her tongue were divine. “Good idea,” Carissa mumbled between bites of spanakopita.
The feeling that somehow she’d just played right into her aunt’s hands jabbed deeply in her gut. Tears often did the job. Shrugging it off, she decided to enjoy the glorious food before her and the company of family that she loved.
Overfull, content, and dishes done, Carissa retired to the living room with her aunt. The conversation flowed, but Carissa’s eyelids were shutters intent on closing for the night.
“I think you should get some rest, Carissa. You need sleep.”
Her aunt’s voice jolted her out of her dozing. For once, she listened to her body and her aunt.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Thitsa. Thank you so much.”
She stood and gave her a huge hug. Memories of her mother collided in that familiar embrace. Emptiness bubbled beneath the surface. Her job as a cop kept her busy, so it had been easier to push those desolate feelings aside, but right now they scratched and pawed their way back into the hollow fissure of her heart. Longing overwhelmed her and her eyes watered at the thought of her parents, and the need for love and security.
It took a bit of her willpower to finally break from her aunt’s warm arms and make her way upstairs to the guest bedroom where recollections of her childhood danced in her mind as she pulled the covers down. She’d missed so many little things growing up without parents. The biggest had been not having them there when things got tough. Her grandmother, God bless her, had done her best to provide comfort, but there had always been a small chasm of emptiness in her heart.
The plush pillow summoned her. The moment her head landed on the soft feathers, images flickered and formed. His lips. His touch.
Challenge: a meager word when it came to Aunt Paula’s idea of shopping, a vastly divergent idea from her own. How do I get myself into these things?
They walked through the doors of Divine Dresses and she began the tedious job of sifting through all the black dresses on the rack. Her aunt, however, had other things in mind.
Paula’s no-nonsense voice broke the silence. “Carissa, you are not going to wear black to a charity event. You’re young. Black is for mourning, not for young ladies,” she said firmly.
Carissa rolled her eyes. Greek mumbo jumbo. “What do you suggest?” she asked, intrigued, knowing it would be a mistake to play games with her clever aunt.
“I think something vibrant and bright. Like a celebration of life.” She waved the saleslady over.
She suppressed the laugh that bubbled in her chest. Her aunt was a ball of energy when she wanted something. And so it began, dress after uncomfortable dress.
“At this rate, I’m going to shoot holes in the dress.” Sweat lined her forehead. The small stall did nothing for her overheating body. She needed water. No, something stronger—an ouzo.
“What was that, Carissa?”
“Nothing, I’m just mumbling.”
“One more. This one should look divine on you.” The saleslady handed the dress to her.
“That’s what you said about the last one, which made me look like a giant version of Tweety Bird!”
“Carissa, that’s not true. You looked ...” She trailed off, and laughed.
“Like a yellow cab with frills! See, you’re laughing. Awful is too nice a word for it.”
The bubble of laughter she’d bit down on earlier broke to the surface. Her aunt and the sales assistant laughed from the other side of the curtain.
She put on the last dress and smoothed her hands over the sensuous fabric. It paraded more flesh than she’d ever want to expose to anyone, and it fit like it was made just for her. The bruises around her neck were beginning to fade. It had been an uncanny thing for her, no bruising had ever last long. She seemed to heal faster than usual.
“Well?” her aunt called impatiently from outside the change room.
She pursed her lips as she stepped out and watched her aunt’s face light up like a Christmas tree.
“Oh my, you’re as pretty as a peach.”
Yep, done deal written all over her aunt’s face. “You like it.”
“Like is an understatement. Hurry up, let’s get moving, we’ve still got shoes to buy. Oh, and don’t worry about your hair and make-up. I’ve got someone coming over to do it all.”
“Gee Thitsa, you are going to a lot of trouble.”
“It’s no trouble, Carissa. I just want you to look and feel as gorgeous as you are. You should get out more.”
That last line was loaded, and it confirmed her hunch: her aunt, the proxy queen, was up to something. Flashes of all the previous setups her aunt had prepared for her daughter Chloe burst and danced in her mind. No one was safe. She beamed, fully aware of the conspiracy that would manifest. She is so setting me up. She’d have to keep an eye out. Knowing full well how the grand master schemer worked, she’d have to watch out for the guy who stuck out the most, because, guaranteed one hundred percent, that’s who her aunt would set her up with.
“Okay, I’m going to put these dresses back and make a few calls.”
“Entaxei, Carissa mou.”
She stepped away and tapped Ligi’s contact number on her cell phone.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself. How was the drive to Virginia?”
“Pretty smooth actually, but a long six and a bit hours.”
“And how is that marriage broker aunt of yours?”
“I hate to say this, but she’s in fine form. Expect another flop date.”
“It can’t be as bad as the guy who turned up with the suit smelling like mothballs, and who drank too much and puked on your shoes.”
“Thanks for the vivid reminder.”
“Doesn’t she ever get tired of it?”
“Ligi, that’s a silly question. Her mission in life is to see all the girls in the family wed.”
“At least it keeps life interesting.”
“Interesting? Don’t you mean demented?”
“Greek crazy is the new black.” Ligi laughed.
“You’re not wrong, considering my life at the moment.”
“Don’t you turn sour on me, it’s not what I meant.”
“I’m not turning all vinegary on you. I’m just contemplating.”
“Girlfriend, there is no room for thinking. Just get out and have some fun. You’re a good cop and you’ll work things out.”
Ligi made sense. It’s why they’d stuck together through thick and thin. Which brought the next question to Carissa’s lips. “Have you heard from Kelly?”
The long pause told her the answer before Ligi even uttered it.
“No.”
“Did you check all the usual spots?”
“I did. It’s like she’s just vanished.”
“Let’s give her another day. Then we can try that cousin of hers who lives in Washington.”
“Yes, he usually knows where she’s at.”
“Exactly.”
“Have fun checking out the eye candy.”
“Ligi, there won’t be any. It’s mostly old people.”
“And you know this how?”
“Oh forget it.”
“Steer clear of mothball cologne.”
Carissa laughed then. “Now there’s an idea for men’s aftershave. Not.”
“Later, girl.”
“Bye, Ligi.”
Carissa ended the call and walked back to her aunt who had thrown shoes and other items into the mix of purchases. She raised an eyebrow at her.
“What? You need shoes with that dress.”
“I have shoes.”
“What, black ones?” her aunt shot back as she moved over to look at the lingerie sets.
“Oh, no.” Carissa eyed the selection she held.
“Really, you can’t have a panty line showing in that dress.”
“It’s going to be a long day and night,” she mumbled.
At 6:00 p.m., a tingling sensation swept over her body as she slid into her dress. Butterflies exploded in her stomach and left her vibrating on the inside. Both righteousness and gloom pressed heavily on her chest. She placed her Beretta Pico 380, a small, deadly handgun, in her silver bag that matched her new shoes. Even with its compact size, it would be too big to sit holstered on the inside of her thigh. She made her way downstairs to wait for her aunt.
Standing in the foyer, Carissa looked up at the rustle of material descending the stairs. Her aunt looked elegant in her deep green gown. At the last step, Aunt Paula stopped and eyed her in the same manner.
“Carissa, you look like a goddess.” Sheer joy spiced her voice. Her pleasure at the whole ensemble was palpable.
A car horn blared.
“Sounds like our ride is here, Thitsa.”
“Showtime,” her aunt said, taking the last step.
They made their way to the car, but unease had taken up permanent residence in the tight pit of her stomach. A light breeze blew across her skin and the hair on her nape rose. Quickly she scanned the street, but saw nothing conspicuous. Doesn’t mean something is not out there. For once she had to agree with her omphalic muse.
When she entered Lesner Hall, a sharp breath left her lips. She had not been expecting the opulence. No expense had been spared. Obviously the charity her aunt belonged to had some major players involved.
Heads turned and gazes quickly swept from head to toe in an approving manner. Before Carissa could move another foot, several people were making their way over. Aunt Paula had magically turned into a well-oiled social machine. Within ten minutes, Carissa had met twelve guests.
Thirty minutes later, tolerating the acquaintance of more people would take monumental strength on her behalf. Her throat was dry, she needed something stronger than the champagne and wine the waiters eagerly distributed among the guests.
“Pardon me, but I need to use the ladies’ room.” She excused herself and headed not for the restroom, but for the temporary bar that stood out like a beacon, tempting her with the shot of spirits and the escape she needed.
The moment she reached the bar, she fired out her order. “Double shot of vodka with a shot of butterscotch schnapps.”
The poor barman looked startled. “Sure.” He dragged out the word.
Carissa eyed him. “Got a name?”
“Bill.”
She nodded, accepting his name. She didn’t offer hers and he didn’t ask.
He picked up a clean glass and almost dropped it, then made a mess of the ice. Clearly his mind drifted from the job. For a split second she considered pulling out her gun.
No, behave, she warned herself. Girl orders drink, bartender mixes drink, bartender serves drink. What did Bill find hard about her order? In the mirror behind the bar, she could see displeasure mar her features. She also made it obvious by staring. The Greek evil eye seemed like a good idea.
Yes, Greek mumbo jumbo. Curse you, bartender. Hurry up with my drink.
He must have sensed something because he sped up, then practically slammed the drink down in front of her. She stifled a laugh.
Maybe the Greek stuff does work.
She thanked him then brought the glass to her lips and took a steady sip, letting the vodka and butterscotch burn down her throat. Its flaming path warmed her inside and out, and gave her a sense of calm.
Two drinks later, the alcohol had softened her brain to mush, still she asked for one more. She lost her balance for a moment when she placed the glass down.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Bill hinted.
“The gun and badge in my purse don’t agree with your deduction,” she concluded.
Bill eagerly went about his business and satisfaction surged through her. She turned to make her way back to Aunt Paula, but shock speared through her body, pinning her to the floor. Her legs froze into useless sticks. Her mind spun from the alcohol and at the same time, it screamed. Next to her aunt stood a tall man—her phantasia in the flesh. Scrumptious. Lethal.
A tiny sliver of undeniable reality punched her brain. He was real. Even in her slightly muddled state, there’d be no escaping the man who stood smiling and nodding at her aunt. The key to the answers lay through that man. Hallelujah, the Fates must be on my side. Telika—finally.
Carissa watched as women vied for her fantasy man’s attention. She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the scene building around him. He could wield a sword with ease, yet these women would not be privy to that slice of information. The image, though, was seared into her brain. Vivid details of blood on his hands flashed in her mind.
The cluster of women thickened as she looked on. An unexpected thought seized her mind. She needed to go to his aid. A contradiction. The women needed rescuing, and so did he. The question was, who needed it more?
Her feet obliged and she moved to the center of the women. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Move along, ladies. Move along, she projected through her mind. Inaudibly, she parted the females around her like Moses did the sea.
“Dinner is about to start.” She ushered the last few in the direction of the tables and away from her target. It sent a spike of joy through her to see the silent mantra work.
The crowd thinned, though for a moment it reminded her of Greek Easter at church— all those little old ladies barging ahead to get communion. Worse than lining up for a rock concert. Carissa had been poked more times by bags and umbrellas at church than anywhere else. She’d also had her hair set on fire, but the recollection of that story dissipated as her feet moved in the direction of her target. The most handsome and lethal man. Her tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip. Standing close to him, she knew she had been right; he needed saving. The faces those women wore were not genuine. They’d jump him as soon as they got the chance. Obvious and transparent they were, and it had nothing to do with the drop-dead gorgeous factor either. No. He exuded power and wealth. Up close, you could almost stroke the invisible vibrations coming from him.
“Carissa!’ Aunt Paula exclaimed. “I’d like you to meet Xen Lyson.” Her aunt flashed her one-hundred-megawatt smile.
Yep, you are up to no good.
Her eyes locked with Xen’s and her heart hammered wildly in her chest. She held out her hand, but a tremble ricocheted all the way down to her fingertips as nervousness settled in. Hell, this was her phantasia in the flesh. The knowledge that she was about to touch him in her waking state, not her dream one, made the whole situation surreal.
He took her outstretched hand and closed his fingers around it. A shiver ran through her at the warm connection. He raised her quivering fingers to his lips. Her eyes were riveted to where he placed a featherlight kiss on her hand, sending tiny ripples throughout her body, the gesture sweet and charming.
Something shifted inside her. You need to get out more, girl. The words filtered to her mind.
A giggle rose in her throat, but she took control of it and buried it back where it came from. She would not let his charms get the better of her. I’m tougher than this fluff of emotions. Plus, I need to question him about Lopez. Sadness pierced her heart at the thought of her partner.
“Your aunt was just speaking about you. It is indeed a pleasure to meet you, Carissa.” The huskiness of his deep voice lingered on her name. Stroking it. Teasing.
A jolt lanced through her when she heard him clear his throat. She should pay more attention, especially to that grin he had spread on his face. I could lick that grin off his face.
“Something amusing?” she asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact.”
“Well then, share.”
“Unfortunately, it’s a private joke. Entertaining things pop into my head often.”
She gave him a quizzical look and decided to catalogue that moment for replay later.
“I hope I haven’t caused you offense.”
“No. No offense. It’s not a crime to laugh at our own internal musings.”
Her eyes began a seductive dance up and down the length of his body. Unfortunately, sizing him up had notched up her attention to his overall masculinity, something she more than liked. Her heart began to pound with ferocity, jabbing against her breast. How would she deal with him and the situation? Her partner’s injuries were fresh in her mind. Somebody had to be held accountable, but those green eyes looked straight into her soul and all sense of logic absconded to another realm.
One of her dreams had crashed into her faculties. Her breath hitched. His eyes followed every minuscule movement she made. Amusement twinkled in his eyes, but they turned hungry as his gaze cruised over her body.
Her aunt cleared her throat, bringing them out of the intense staring match they were locked in.
Okay, that was the horizontal mambo, only standing and with clothes on.
Xen cleared his throat too.
“Would you like to move over to the tables now? We are just about to start. Oh, by the way I took the liberty and seated you next to Xen. Table five.” Her aunt grinned.
Could you be any more obvious? Aunt Paula had just pulled one of her typical setups, one that Carissa didn’t mind. Really, who was she kidding? The man next to her could have any woman. Greek god didn’t describe him adequately. From his perfect lips to the hard line of his jaw—perfection. The overgrown stubble gave him that hard edge.
“Carissa.” A small shiver travelled up her spine, spreading a light spray of goosebumps on her hyperaware skin. Her body awoke from its sexless slumber. His proximity sent scorching tangled positions racing through her mind. Heat flamed low in her belly. Her breathing constricted, making her fitted dress two sizes too small.
What’s wrong with me? she mumbled under her breath, cursing the intense reaction to him. It only amplified when he placed his hand on her lower back and guided her to their seats. Heat spread from her lower back through her body like a cocoon, warming it everywhere.
“This way.” His voice lingered in her ear. Visions of him naked ran their assault in her overactive grey matter. Get your head out of the gutter, girl, you have a job to do!
From her peripheral view, she caught the grin on his face.
They reached their seats. Xen gracefully held out her chair for her while his glance flickered over her again. In that moment she felt naked. Bare.
“Thank you,” she choked out.
“Always a pleasure to seat a siren.”
She had never in her life failed to speak when needed, but around this man it became clear it would not be easy to focus. He had just referred to her as a siren, something mythical and exotic. Who said he needed a gun or any other weapon to render her helpless? He seemed to be doing a dandy job with words alone.
He was a connection to a large piece of the puzzle of what went down at the warehouse. Out of sheer dumb luck, here he sat. If you believed the Greek mumbo jumbo then it would be the Fates that deposited him right at her side. Her rational mind, though, appeared to be packing bags for that long overdue vacation.
What is it about him that’s got me all tongue-tied and crazy? She answered her own question. I’ll tell you what it is, you’ve spent all your adult life dreaming about him and now he is here, all real and oh so sexy, her muse teased.
He poured water into her glass. The action brought her out of her rumination.
“Carissa, I won’t lie. We’ve met before, under unusual circumstances.”
“Is that what you call it? I guess we weren’t drinking sweet tea together.”
“No.” He paused and dropped his voice to a low whisper. “You don’t strike me as a silly woman, and you know what I’m implying. So, let’s drop the sarcasm.”
“Fine, but understand one thing and one thing only, you will give me the truth of what happened at Jostlers and why it is that I remember only you there.”
“And why should you trust anything I say?” he challenged.
“I don’t, but my aunt seems to like you, and she’s got some Greek mumbo jumbo instinct, so I’m going to go with that.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “And what does your instinct say?”
“Now Mr. Lyson, telling you what I’m thinking goes against my principles.”
“Then let us leave the business talk for later,” he countered.
He had some nerve to dismiss the discussion without giving her enough to satisfy her muddled marbles. Irritation foamed and bubbled up her throat, blocking her vocal cords. She swallowed hard and pushed sharp words through gritted teeth.
“My partner is fighting for his life. I can’t shake the feeling you had something to do with it.”
“I’m sorry about your partner, and you are very mistaken. I did not have anything to do with his current condition. There is more at play here than you can possibly understand.”
Guilt stabbed her in the chest at his words. It had been her stupid fault for listening to that scumbag Tom. Whatever Xen’s connection had been, she’d have to give him the grace of presuming him innocent until proven guilty. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”
“No need to apologize. This is a discussion for later, away from prying eyes and ears. Let’s enjoy the evening and our dinner.” He leaned into her ear and lowered his voice. “By the way, you look stunning.”
Heat crept up her throat and face, warming her cheeks. She blew out an exasperated breath, hating that she’d be at his mercy for information and disliking that he could flick all her switches with mere words. She was an explosive combination of warm and smoldering to volcanic in his presence. The need to cool down stifled her. Rein it in, girl.
“I’m holding you to it. I seek answers and I believe you have them. I will follow you relentlessly until I gain all I need.”
The corners of his mouth turned up. “You have my word, koukla.”
She shook her head at his endearment.
He winked.
“Do women line up to hear you call them doll?”
“Carissa, I do not go around professing fond compliments to women. However, when I am interested, I make it clear.”
Heat burned her cheeks. Why did she think every time men paid her a compliment they were poking fun at her? Her outburst was uncalled for and rude.
“I ... I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what has come over me. I probably need to eat.” Her dream had collided with reality and she had been drinking on an empty stomach. She needed to stabilize her rabid thoughts and stop her juvenile reactions to him.
“There’s no need to apologize. You are probably trying to resolve too many things at once.”
A waiter placed a mouthwatering filet mignon in front of her. Her stomach growled on cue.
“I guess you were right. You need to eat.” Laughter danced in his voice.
Damn. This night had turned into an epic farce. She dove into the meat with as much aplomb as she could muster. Secretly she craved a rewind button to start the evening all over again.
“This is delicious,” she said between bites.
“I’ve had better.” Xen moved his food around his plate then stopped to pour champagne into their glass flutes.
She lifted the glass to her lips and took a small swallow. The bubbles slid down her throat in an easy glide. Take it easy, Carissa. You had too much before and acted like an idiot. Don’t embarrass yourself further.
“Aren’t you hungry?” She pointed to his plate.
“I indulged a little too much earlier,” he admitted. “But feel free to have anything from mine if you like.” He pushed his dish closer.
Yes, he exuded all the traits of a gentleman, but his attitude appeared devil-may-care. She made a mental note, warning herself of how easily she could be a victim of his charms.
“Thank you. I might steal one of your potatoes.”
He pinned one from his plate and held it out to her so that she could take a bite. Without thinking, she wrapped her hand around his wrist to steady it before she leaned in and took a mouthful of her favorite starch, chewing and moaning her satisfaction.
His green eyes were fixed on hers. A spell began to weave. Time froze and the occupants of the room disappeared, only the two of them remained. Heat burned low and slow in her belly, her heart began a four-hundred-meter sprint, drumming fast in her chest.
Harnessing control proved insurmountable. Okay, Carissa, compartmentalize. Just when she thought she had it all in order, he leaned close to her ear again.
“It would please me if you would dance with me.”
She turned her head and her lips brushed his cheek accidently. His aftershave teased her nose—sandalwood, vanilla and bergamot. On instinct she drew a deep breath, taking in his provocative scent. Not a good sign when she didn’t want to be derailed from her true motive—answers to what went down at Jostlers.
“I ... I haven’t danced in a long time, and these shoes weren’t meant for dancing.” She turned in her chair and brought out her foot, but the split in her gown opened, revealing her naked leg to her thigh.
“See.” She fumbled to cover her exposure.
“Oh, I do see,” he said with a wolfish grin.
Good going, Carissa. Might as well as offer yourself in the process.
“I’ll lead. Don’t worry yourself, koukla.”
He stood. Her fingers charged to life when they settled in the hand he offered. The music started to play. He led her out to the dance floor with a fluidness and gracefulness that uttered sheer confidence, as if he’d done this many times before. Once positioned, his arms closed around her, pulling her intimately against his body. Great, he’s going to short circuit my brain. The feel of his hard thighs against hers sent a spark of tingles racing through her in excitement. Rational thought eluded her and her knees turned liquid.
“Beautiful song.” Stupid thing to say, Carissa.
“It is, koukla ...” He looked into her eyes. “Because the act of which it speaks is beautiful.” His face took on a look of pure mischief.
“The act?” she asked, tilting her head to one side and pursing her lips. She’d lost track of their conversation during her distraction.
The heat from his body engulfed her in warm flames that licked her skin. She was on fire and needed to get some air. His lips brushed her earlobe, and in a husky tone, he whispered, “The act is making deep and sensual love.” The words reverberated all the way down her spine, raising goosebumps on her skin. Her body tingled with awareness.
Oh boy. I’m in trouble. Her muscles relaxed, allowing her body to melt into his. Her heart rate danced and warmth pooled between her legs. Stop, stop! Stupid brain, listen. Too late. Benedict Arnold body. She cursed herself. Here she danced in the arms of a man, enjoying herself while her partner lay in hospital in critical condition. She should be retrieving information, not enjoying herself with a possible suspect.
His inhalation at her neck had her pulling back to meet his piercing green gaze. It dipped to her lips, speaking of a man not interested in the Zorba, but a more sensual horizontal dance.
Bang! Bang! Wake up, you twit! She snapped to her senses, as if someone had slammed a griddle pan upside her skull. Her overindulgence in alcohol had blurred her rationality. On cue the music changed, transporting her out of her temporary enamored haze. Clearing her throat, she managed a few coherent words.
“Thank you for dancing with me.”
The dryness in her mouth only added to the intensity of her desire for this powerful man. It scared her how her body and mind wove freely with his. Maybe the dreams had amplified her reaction. It shouldn’t be this easy. I shouldn’t want him this much. I don’t know him, only the dream. She let out a breath. What was she thinking? Remember, you are a police officer, Carissa. The logical side of her brain told her that she had a job to do.
“Excuse me. I need air.”
Pulling away from his embrace, she headed outside. Her sixth sense, which had been floating in obscurity, told her not to look back, because more than likely he had followed. The hair on her neck stood to attention, confirming her instinct. She pushed the door open and stepped out to the deck. Lights flickered in the distance across the Lynnhaven River and Chesapeake Bay. The saltiness of the water caused her nostrils to flare. Eyes shut, she took several long breaths to calm her overzealous hormones.
“Are you all right?” His voice sent goosebumps skittering down her back and along her arms.
“I am. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression or led you on.” She turned to face him. “I don’t sleep with guys I meet at charity events.”
Right or wrong, she had to make herself clear. She didn’t want to give off any more mixed signals. She knew nothing about the real Xen. The dream version had, up until now, been just that, a dream, a wild fantasy like those alpha heroes in romance novels. Everything about this man screamed scrumptious sex. Six four with a killer body, long dark hair that touched his shoulders. Yes, he rocked the sword look. The word lethal bounced around in her head, a fact that clearly told her to be on her guard. Business first. Gears turned and locked into place, her muscles tightened to steel.
“I really need you to answer some questions for me.”
“I will, but not here. Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night ... at my place?”
“Why? There’s no one out here.”
“As I said before, you never know who may be listening.”
Her nails cut into the flesh of her palms. “Why are you making this difficult?
“Have dinner with me ... tomorrow night.” Before she could form a reply he had a card out and scrawled an address on the back.
“What makes you think that I would agree?”
“I don’t. I’m just hoping you will.”
“That’s taking a big gamble, don’t you think?”
He lifted his eyes from where he’d been writing and pinned his gaze directly at her. Her breath caught. Stop it, Carissa. A simple look into his eyes and she’d turned weak at the knees. Fight it a little.
“Not at all. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to have dinner with a beautiful woman.” The corners of his lips turned upwards, showcasing his perfect teeth, but his dimples could slay a woman. Infectious didn’t cover it. His smile had its own religion and zip code.
She shook her head. Surely he knew the power of his magnetism.
“Seven thirty p.m.” He held out the card. “My place.”
“If I agree—and I haven’t yet—I get to ask questions first.”
“You may ask at your leisure. I won’t deny you the answers, just not here. It’s not safe, entaxei? Okay?”
She raised an eyebrow pondering his last words about safety. “Entaxei,” she agreed. “I’m going to let my aunt know I’ve had enough for one evening.” Getting away from Xen would be ideal. Her body and mind needed time to build up some resistance—or, more like, a fortress with a moat.
He stepped aside to let her lead the way, following behind. Glancing over her shoulder, she caught Xen looking at her ass and close to salivating. His eyes flicked up to meet hers. She could not mistake the desire that danced in those green depths.
I can’t believe it, she scoffed. He didn’t even have the audacity to look embarrassed at being caught.
“Men ...”
“Did you say something?” he quizzed.
She ignored him and kept walking towards her aunt, reaching her just before she jetted off again to mingle with her charity donors. “Thitsa.”
“Carissa, Xen,” she said, greeting them with a huge this-was-my-idea smile.
“I’m going to go. I’m a little tired,” Carissa lied.
“I insist on giving you a ride home,” Xen commanded.
“No, no, I don’t need a ride. I’ve made arrangements.” She held her hands up, palms out to stop the words that were about to come from both of them. She wanted to use her own means—a cab. Thank goodness they didn’t push it. She leaned in to give her aunt a peck on the cheeks, and then turned to Xen.
Flares of pleasure skimmed down her spine as he took her hands in his, drawing her smoothly towards him. Her head tilted upwards towards his, her nose caught his ambrosial scent. Gods he smells so good. She brushed her lips softly against his cheek; desire ignited in her all over again. The temptation to linger was almost overpowering, but she managed to school her thoughts and pulled back. Her gaze locked with his.
“Tomorrow, seven thirty p.m.,” she breathed, trying not to fall victim to the green depths of his eyes.
“Precisely, koukla.” A small grin tugged at his lips. He let go of her hand and turned to leave. The flames ceased, along with the butterflies running riot in her stomach.
As soon as his long, graceful strides took him out of earshot, Carissa’s aunt flew at her like a flighty bird. “Oh, Carissa, I just knew it. He is perfect for you. You would make a wonderful couple.”
“Relax, Thitsa.” She rolled her eyes at her aunt’s excitement. Oh brother! How in the name of Aphrodite would she deal with this? If Aunt Paula had her way, she’d be having babies by tomorrow morning and they’d be moving on to real estate acquisitions.
Right now, getting out of there had hit her top priority list. “I’ll see you in the morning. No need to rush home because of me.” She pulled her aunt in for a hug then turned to leave.
“Carissa.”
She paused at the stairs leading to the ground floor.
“Be careful.”
“Always, Thitsa.” She winked then did a quick jog down the stairs and outside. She pulled her smart phone from her bag and used the app to book a cab. Her phone beeped with a message.
“Twenty minutes,” she whispered,
A chill ran through her, causing the hair on her scalp to prickle when she’d stepped closer to the curb of the parking lot. She scanned the lit area, looking for what might have caused her hackles to rise. Nothing looked out of place, no suspicious characters loitering around the function center.
It occurred to her that it bordered on stupid to agree to meet Xen for dinner at his house. She should’ve picked a public place, but desperation for answers made her do crazy and irrational things. Like share dinner with a gorgeous stranger at his place. You’re an idiot. The rock that sat heavily in her stomach told her why she’d acted the way she had. She could not resist him, and secretly she craved to fulfill those dreams.
“Where is that cab?”
She fumed as she walked through the parking lot to the main street entrance of Lesner Hall, her heels clicking on the concrete. That same frosty bite returned, amplifying her unease. The darkness wove a camouflage blanket. The hairs on her nape and arms rose and her sixth sense screamed for her to get out of there. Her muscles tightened but she decided to keep her feet moving by pacing. Her cop instinct told her what she already knew—someone was watching.