Chapter 9 #2
“I know many things, Mr. Tanner.” His remark should have pissed her off, but she’d expected that and worse. “Don’t mistake what I do for what I know.”
“I’m asking you to leave.” He stepped directly into her personal space. “It’ll be considerably easier if you leave of your own volition rather than forcing me to call security.”
“You’re the defender of the underdog, the champion of truth,” she insisted, taking the statement word for word from recent headlines.
“Don’t you want to hear my truth?” He wasn’t fooled for a second.
She read the derision on his face as easily as scanning the latest issue of Cosmopolitan at the checkout counter.
“That’s what they say,” he said, those straight white teeth practically clenched.
“I’m sure you’ll be able to see for yourself over the course of the next few months while I’m dragging you through legal proceedings.
” He wrapped the fingers of his right hand around her arm, careful not to apply excessive pressure. “Let me show you to the door.”
Time to play hardball. “Where’s the passion I felt last night?
” she challenged. “A man with that much passion surely can’t stand idly by and watch an innocent person destroyed.
” She toyed with his tie, the same one he’d worn last night, no doubt reminding him of those hours.
His nostrils flared. “That would be a travesty, wouldn’t it? ”
“Back off.”
Nice roar, but it would take more than that to scare her off. She reached out, molded her hand to the front of his trousers, squeezed his hard cock. “I know you want me.”
“That’s it.” Carson had to get her out of here. Even as the thought formed in his brain she uncrossed her legs and spread them wide apart. His gaze zeroed in on the juncture between her thighs.
He blinked. Told himself to breathe. Didn’t happen.
She wasn’t wearing panties. Soft, blond pubes gleamed against her tanned skin.
Security. He should call now. Get her out of here.
“Perhaps”—she licked her lips—“I mistook desperation for passion.”
Fury jolted him. His grip tightened in anticipation of hauling her out the door. “I’m not going to cross that line with you again. Now go.” The term assault and battery abruptly dampened the fiery rage. He released her. Dropped his hands to his sides and ordered himself to keep them there.
“I know you want me.” She glanced at the front of his trousers. “It’s not like you haven’t done it already.”
He reached for the phone again. She diverted his hand, pressed it between her thighs. Want pumped through his arteries.
“Feel that.” She moaned. “That’s all for you.”
Reason almost deserted him for a second time since finding her in his office. He grabbed it back, wrenched his hand away from her body. “I . . . don’t . . . want . . . you,” he growled even as his erection strained against his fly.
“Yes . . . you . . . do.” She grabbed him by the waist, pulled him closer, and wrenched open his trousers just enough to reach inside. She stroked him, squeezed and tugged.
He groaned. Couldn’t help himself.
He was out of his damned mind.
“Get out now,” he demanded, backing away and wrestling with his trousers. His hands shook with need. He couldn’t think. It was insane.
She stared at him. Didn’t make a move to go, didn’t allow a single emotion to slip past her flawless composure. “If you won’t do the job, I’ll just do it myself.”
Before he could fathom her intent, she reclined fully on his desk, heedless of the papers and photos there. Her slender fingers caressed that intimate dampness, tunneled inside. She whimpered as if this wasn’t the first time she’d had to indulge herself. As if she knew just how to do it.
The oxygen evacuated his lungs. If he called security now, and they saw her here like this . . . damn it!
Her body writhed sensually. His mouth went dry. Just walk out. But sensitive files were here . . . beneath her. Her moans grew frenzied. His cock throbbed with need.
She cried out. Locked the heels of her stilettos on the edge of his desk as her movements became more frantic.
No more.
He stepped between her spread thighs, leaned in, and grabbed her by the shoulders to yank her upright. Bad decision. For several seconds he couldn’t move. Immobilized in that erotic position, overwhelmed by the scent of her body . . . by the need to stab into her.
She fisted her fingers in his shirtfront. “I knew you couldn’t resist.”
Fury ignited. His fingers bit into her arms with the need to shake the hell out of her. “It . . . will . . . not . . . happen . . . again.”
She stared at him, her expression cold even as she smiled in triumph. “Yes, it will.”
Confusion, frustration, another burst of anger—it all bombarded him along with the adrenaline-charged lust. “Just go.” He closed his eyes and told himself to release her and back away. But he couldn’t move.
The door opened.
“Hey, man, I—”
Keller Luttrell stared at Carson, then at the woman sprawled on his desk in front of him. “Sorry, man.” Luttrell executed an about-face and cleared the room before Carson could utter a word. The door banged shut.
Carson released her, frantically righted his clothes.
She draped her legs over the edge of the desk, lifted into a sitting position, then hopped off. “I suppose that was my cue to go.”
“Don’t approach me again without an official invitation,” he warned. Too many violent emotions to label roiled inside him. He was a damned idiot! “If you do, I’ll file charges.”
She straightened her dress and stared at him, cool, utterly collected. “You’ll change your mind.”
He twisted his belt into place, struggling with the need to kick his own ass. “Whatever you think you’re doing,” he advised, “is over. If I have to step aside on this one, I will.”
She laughed softly, brushed a wisp of hair back from her cheek. “Like that’s going to happen.” She skirted the chairs in front of his desk and walked deliberately toward the door, her hips swaying provocatively.
Idiocy seized first chair in his brain. “Whatever there is to find on you,” he threatened, “I will find it. And then you’ll talk or you’ll do the time.”
She paused at the door and turned back to him, that unreadable smile still in place. “I’m sure you’ll try. But keep in mind, I know things that could bring down this entire office. You walk away and I’ll do just that. I want you on this case.”
Lies. All of it. If she had anything on this office, she would have used it to stop this investigation before it started. “Get out.”
“Just one question.”
“We have nothing else to discuss, Ms. Baxter.”
“Tell me, Tanner, when did you stop caring about the truth?”
She didn’t wait for an answer.
She left.
Her question delayed the action he knew he had to take next. He had to square this with Luttrell. Yet . . . what she’d said nagged at him. Hadn’t Stokes made a similar statement? Tell me, Tanner, when did you stop caring about the truth?
Instinct nudged him. Dread trickled. How could she have known?
He’d worry about that later. For now, damage control was his top priority. Carson found his friend in the supply room at the copy machine.
“Look,” Carson said, his head bowed a moment before meeting his colleague’s eyes, “I want to apologize for what you walked in on. It wasn’t—”
Luttrell waved his hands in front of him as if erasing the whole matter. “Hey, you don’t have to apologize to me. I’m just glad you’re finally getting some.”
Uncertainty gave Carson an instant’s pause. Shit. Luttrell did think the worst. Baxter being in his office was bad enough. “You don’t understand. She was—”
“I didn’t get a look at her face.” Luttrell shrugged. “But judging by those gorgeous legs and what I saw of her fine ass, I’d say you have yourself a hot one on your hands.” He growled like a horny beast. “I haven’t banged a chick in that position in weeks.”
Carson took a deep breath for the first time in about ten minutes.
He would never convince his colleague that he hadn’t been going at it.
The good news was that Luttrell hadn’t identified her.
“Well.” Carson cleared his throat. “There’s a time and place for everything. I fell down in both categories.”
Luttrell clapped him on the back. “Pussy’s pussy, man. Take it when and where you can. We won’t be young and single forever.”
A laugh choked out of Carson’s throat. “There is that.”
“You had dinner yet?” Luttrell grabbed his original documents and the copies he’d made. “I was out with a client, but we never got around to dinner. I had to run back here and pick up a file.” He shoved the documents into the briefcase lying next to the copy machine. “You want to get a bite?”
Carson grappled to regain some semblance of composure. “Sure.”
Luttrell talked enough for the two of them as they stopped by Carson’s office to lock up, then exited the building. For once Carson didn’t care. He was just thankful that his colleague had no clue the woman caught in such a compromising position with him was Annette Baxter.
Carson had never really believed in luck. He’d always insisted he made his own with intelligence, preparation and persistence.
But tonight, it seemed luck had taken pity on him because he damned sure hadn’t been capable of generating his own.
10:30 p.m.
2402 Altadena Road, Vestavia
Tanner Residence
Carson had almost put the incident behind him by the time he reached home.
That a car sat in his driveway surprised him.
He almost never had company. Unless it was Luttrell—and it wouldn’t be.
He didn’t recognize the silver Camry. Someone sat silhouetted on the front porch steps just out of the overhead light’s reach.
Female?
His heart prematurely contracted.
Couldn’t be Baxter. She drove a Lexus. At least that was the vehicle registered in her name.
He let go a big breath as he turned into the drive, braked next to the Camry, and put his BMW into park. His visitor rose from the step. The light fell across her, giving him a glimpse of her face.
Elizabeth?