Flirtation Read online

  Maybe there was something to be said for this tarot business. He studied the card more closely, seemingly unaware of her watching him, when in reality he was attuned to her every breath, her every move.

  “Just focus on the significator and your question while I shuffle.”

  “Shouldn’t we hold hands or something?”

  She smiled patiently. “That’s for a séance. We’re fine as we are—I couldn’t shuffle the deck if we held hands. Focus, now.”

  He obeyed her gentle command, feeling foolish and intrigued at the same time. She seemed to really be into it. She put the cards in front of him and asked him to cut them into three piles then recombine them. He did so, and waited as she asked for his question and started to turn out cards.

  Her soft voice was almost hypnotic as she spun a story from card to card, stopping to check for clarifications or his input, answering his questions and showing him what the puzzle laid out in front of him meant. By the end of the reading, he was more than confused. He was completely unsettled, but also fascinated.

  How deeply had this woman studied his life? How much information had she managed to get about him before she came to his door? It had to be considerable, since her “reading” was uncannily accurate. If she was working alone, she had to have connections. But more likely, she really was the front person. She checked potential targets out, set them up, and then someone else did the real dirty work.

  And she’d also take the fall if something went down—if the operation closed up shop and disappeared, she’d be the only one left hanging in the wind. The thought disturbed him, and he tried to squelch his protective feelings. She was in this up to her pretty little mouth, and he shouldn’t be sympathizing. And the way she’d stimulated some of his more male responses had him wondering if he was losing his grip when it came to this case. He tried to refocus, to get back in the game.

  How could she know, if she hadn’t checked him out, about the friends in his life who were getting married or having children? How could she know about his professional success and his old relationships? All of that was something any enterprising person could find out with phone calls, newspaper research and good old legwork.

  In spite of the falsified information he’d included in his registration, and dummy documents anyone would find if they used the artificial papers, she kept returning to his role as a “protector”—did she know he was a cop? The thought niggled at him, but then he relaxed. If she knew he was a cop, she would have never shown up. She probably knew about his family’s shipbuilding plant, but Beaumont Industries wasn’t exactly a secret.

  “So it’s been a bumpy road, some ups and downs, but you’ve made some good choices recently. Your professional life seems like it has blessings everywhere—you are very happy in your work, though frustrated in other areas of your life.”

  “That’s true. I value my job, and what it allows me to do for the community.”

  “What do you do?”

  “My family owns Beaumont Industries. Have you heard of it?”

  She shook her head—the little liar.

  “I’ve only been here a few years, and I don’t really read newspapers or anything like that.”

  Yeah, right.

  “We own one of the largest and oldest shipbuilding plants in the area. My great-grandfather started the business, and built one of the first tugboats. It’s still on display in the local naval museum.”

  “That’s just incredible! I’d love to see it.”

  “I’ll take you.”

  She blushed again, and EJ just couldn’t help but respond to how pretty she was. If only she weren’t a fraud.

  “What do you do with the company? You mentioned helping the community?”

  “We donate to causes, sponsor events, provide a significant number of local jobs and we are an environmentally safe industry. My father didn’t wait for the laws to force compliance. He cared about the natural world, and he taught us to, as well.”

  “I could tell from the grounds of this house. It’s like a paradise.”

  EJ watched her and felt stymied again. She looked so earnest. She didn’t press him for more details on his work, or anything else suspicious. That made him doubly cautious—she was either completely innocent or she was very good.

  He intended to find out.

  4

  CHARLOTTE WAS CONVINCED AS she turned out the cards and read for EJ that there was something special and unusual between them. Sparks flew each time they caught each other’s eyes, and she was having a hard time separating her professional responsibilities from her personal desires. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, and she owed him her best insights, but the cards and the reading had gotten increasingly focused on relationships, on passion, and the heat was almost tangibly building between them in the room.

  Turning the last card, The Star, she felt marginally better—this card was a blessing, a positive omen for things turning out well. When she looked up again, she saw EJ closely studying the card which displayed a nude woman among the sun and stars, a pitcher in each hand.

  “She reminds me of you.” EJ’s voice was low and full of sexual promise, and she couldn’t take her eyes off the card as he continued to study the image. “She’s so sensual.”

  She’d brought her Morgan-Greer deck, her favorite, because the images were so colorful and lush. As she looked down at The Star, she realized he was right, though her hair was curlier than the woman’s on the card. However, the exposed body of the image made her feel exposed as well, the rosy tips of the woman’s breasts suddenly felt like her own. The way EJ was looking at her made her own nipples tingle in response.

  “I’m a little heavier.”

  “You’re more beautiful.”

  She had no idea what to say. The casual back and forth of the tarot reading had swerved in a new direction, and she swallowed, unsure how to react. Reflexively, she reached forward, starting to gather up the cards, and his hands trapped hers gently.

  “Don’t leave yet. We’ve only started.” His gaze burned into her. “I want to spend more time with you.”

  “I want to spend more time with you, too, but I have dog-walking appointments.”

  “I thought you read tarot for a living?”

  “No, that’s one thing I do, but I have several odd jobs that keep the rent paid. So I really do have to go.”

  She wasn’t afraid of EJ; she just had a swell of emotion she didn’t understand overtake her, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe, the suggestion had become so thick between them.

  He crossed to her side of the table, letting go of one of her hands but keeping hold of the other. Kneeling down by the side of her chair, he looked concerned.

  “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I didn’t mean to come on so strong, but having you here in person ties me in knots. I don’t know what I expected, but I didn’t expect to feel everything that I do.”

  Charlotte melted at his confession, her panic easing as she looked into his beautiful face.

  “I’m sorry. I just have never…I don’t know how to respond to you. To this.”

  He leaned in, his face close to hers, his free hand sliding up into her hair. “I’m betting you know exactly how to respond.”

  All she could do was make a tiny “mmm” sound before his mouth claimed hers, and it was hardly a protest. She forgot everything as his lips touched hers in an exploratory kiss. It was the kind of kiss she’d never experienced and had always dreamt of, and her doubts evaporated as if they’d never existed.

  His hand stayed on the back of her head, angling her so he could widen her lips and access her mouth more effectively, tasting her as if she were living, breathing ambrosia. She sighed into his mouth, letting her tongue touch his and moaning at the power of the tentative touch.

  Just as she felt like she could sink into the kiss forever and never let it end, he pulled back, his eyes dark with desire, his breath coming slightly faster. The idea that she’d excited him so was unbelievab
le to her, but the pulse pounding at the base of his neck convinced her. She leaned forward slightly, wanting to kiss him in that spot, to feel the throbbing beneath his skin against her mouth. But then he spoke, halting her impulse.

  “I want to take you out. To dinner. On a date. Though right now I’d like to peel that dress off of you and taste every inch of you, my mama raised a gentleman. We should get to know each other a little. First.”

  The not-so-veiled heat in his expression and the seductive promise of his words pushed another flush up into her cheeks as she answered. “I’d like that.”

  Imagine. A man who actually wanted to take her out, not just take her to bed.

  He smiled, lifting his hand and rubbing her moist lower lip with his thumb. “How about the Isle, at the wharf? Tomorrow at seven? I’ll pick you up.”

  Her eyes widened. The Isle was one of the most prestigious restaurants in the area. She’d never even dreamed of going to a place like that, but the prospect of being taken there by EJ was too magical to resist.

  “Okay, but you don’t have to pick me up—I’d rather get there on my own, I have a lot going on in the afternoon, and will just be anxious if you show up and I’m not ready.”

  While that was partially true, she also realized, unhappily, that she didn’t want to tell him where she lived, especially now that she’d had a glimpse of his life. Maybe he would change his mind. Maybe his opinion of her would change. She wanted the fantasy this time, and pushed the reality away just a little bit.

  “Modern women,” he sighed with comical exaggeration. “Okay, but I wish you would let me come get you. You could call me when you’re ready.”

  “No, really, I’ll be fine.”

  “If you insist, but I’ll see you home and I don’t want one word of argument about it.”

  He dipped closer to seal the date with another kiss, effectively quieting any objections she might have raised and erasing any more doubts before they had a chance to surface.

  EJ LEVELED THE GUN and aimed at his target, the black silhouette of a human body hanging about one hundred feet in front of him. The weight of the .45 was reassuring in his hand. This was his favorite gun, and he tried to get to the range to shoot at least once a week, keeping his skills honed.

  While some manufacturers were advocating virtual shooting ranges now, EJ liked to know he could handle the real thing, and smiled when he pulled the trigger, feeling the kick against his palms. The shot was a little off, but not bad. He tried again, relishing the power and the control that target shooting offered him. Like sex, shooting a gun wasn’t something he ever wanted to do virtually. He preferred the real thing.

  Bracing his legs, straightening his back, he started to pull the trigger when the tiny alarm from his PDA went off, reminding him that he had to get ready for his date.

  A flash of Charlotte’s features, the memory of the soft texture of her hair in his hand distracted him, making his next shot even farther off the mark.

  Unacceptable. And definitely not healthy in his line of work.

  But as his traitorous thoughts brought him back to the kiss, he set the gun down on the shelf in front of him, shaking his head and taking a moment to regroup. He’d been pushing the thoughts aside all day, refusing to accept what had happened as more than part of the job, setting up the sting to catch Charlotte Gerard in the act, but his gut was telling him an entirely different story.

  Or was it just rampant lust? Normally he would trust his instincts. He knew their evidence suggested that Charlotte was the guilty party, but his instincts were compelling him to think more about kissing her again than arresting her. Though snapping handcuffs around those delicate wrists presented some definite possibilities….

  Blood traveled straight to his groin at the thought, and he took a deep breath, looking from side to side, making sure he was alone. It was embarrassing, how much he wanted her. Anyone would think he hadn’t been laid in a while, which wasn’t the problem at all. But Charlotte had packed a punch to his libido, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  She was a stranger—a prime suspect—and it had been all he could do not to peel away that cute little sundress and ravish every inch of her curvy flesh. He’d done some deeper digging after she left, hoping to find something that would condemn her and cool his lust, but there was nothing.

  He wanted to see where she lived. How she lived. That was the next priority. If she liked furniture she couldn’t afford, or if he found anything that would give him a sense of her having more money than she should, he would get his answers.

  He rarely went to the Isle. It was just too uptight for his usual tastes. But Charlotte had seemed thrilled. She obviously had a yen for the finer things. But she’d been reluctant to let him come pick her up. It didn’t add up—what was she hiding?

  She wouldn’t have the same success when it came to taking her home. Not only would the detective in him not be thwarted, but the gentleman in him would not accept leaving a woman at her doorstep alone late at night. And, if he was blunt, the man in him wanted to taste her again. For all the women he’d seen over the last few years, he couldn’t recall such sharp anticipation of kissing his date good-night.

  His thoughts whirled in confusion. He reminded himself she wasn’t a date; she wasn’t a potential lover. She was, potentially, a criminal. He had to remember that; he had no idea what lay beneath the surface of these thefts, and losing sight of that could cost him his life. Computer crime was usually fought on both fronts—behind a screen and behind a gun. He had to be prepared for that, no matter how much his dick insisted otherwise when it came to Charlotte.

  With that sobering thought, he picked up his gun again, clearing his mind and taking a breath before snapping off five more shots in a row, hitting the target in five fatal areas.

  Much better. Now he could go get ready for his date.

  THE THRIFT SHOP at the community center downtown was her only hope. She had nothing to wear to a place like the Isle, and even in thrift-shop terms she wasn’t planning to spend half her rent and hoped she could make it up before the end of the month. Still, she felt like Cinderella getting ready for the ball as she walked in and went directly toward the rack of formal dresses in the back. She needed something special.

  The clerk, a petite, twentysomething woman with short, dark hair looking bored to tears, approached her.

  “Can I help you?”

  Charlotte grimaced, not seeing anything particularly appropriate on the rack.

  “I need a dress for a special event. Something really spectacular.”

  The clerk nodded, but eyed the rack with a frown. “It’s coming up on prom season, the dresses are picked over.”

  “Do you have anything in the back?”

  The young woman looked at her, as if lost in thought, and Charlotte pushed, “I really need a dress and I can’t afford retail. I met a guy, and he’s wonderful, but he invited me to dinner at the Isle, and I don’t have anything—it’s tonight, so I can’t go all over the city looking. Are you sure all the formal dresses are gone?”

  “Wow, the Isle? This must be some guy.” The clerk was obviously impressed and Charlotte grinned proudly.

  “He is. He’s so-oo-o handsome, I can barely believe he asked me out. I just met him, and I don’t want to show up looking like a ragamuffin, but money is tight.”

  “I hear ya, hon. Listen—” she pursed her lips thoughtfully “—there is a dress in the back. You are, what, about a size ten?”

  “Depends on the cut, but yeah, in that range.”

  “Give me a minute. I think this was an eight, but it was a loose cut, so we can try it.”

  Charlotte waited, her anxiety levels rising as the clerk didn’t return, and she wondered what she would do if she couldn’t find a dress. She had some dresses, but nothing formal enough for the Isle. She could cancel, but how would that look?

  EJ was like a prince, and that he wanted to take her on a fancy date was like a dream. A once-in-a-lifetime
fantasy. She didn’t want to miss it because she had nothing to wear. But she had dog-walking appointments in an hour, and she needed time to get showered and dressed. If this dress didn’t fit, she was sunk.

  Just as she was about to crawl out of her skin, the clerk emerged, holding a dress over her arm that left Charlotte speechless.

  The clerk smiled, holding it up for inspection, and both women simply stared, glorying in the beautiful garment. The bias-cut gown, black French cotton lace draped over a golden silk charmeuse lining, was perfect. The cut was simple, but the effect of the design was exquisite. Charlotte reached out to touch it, almost afraid to.

  “It’s from some vintage designer. The owner of the shop told me, but I can’t recall—Imelda? Isadora? I can never remember those names.” She flipped the tag inside and smiled. “Isadora. Sharon, the owner, says it sells retail for over a thousand dollars! She wants to auction it on eBay, but the woman who left it specifically said she just wanted someone to have it who couldn’t otherwise afford it so—”

  The clerk lowered her voice, and looked from side to side before speaking again. “You seem nice, and going to the Isle is a big deal. If you want to take it just for your dinner and drop it back later, Sharon is out of town. She won’t even notice if the dress is gone for one night. Just don’t, you know, drop ketchup on it or anything. If the Isle even uses ketchup.” The girl smiled, holding out her hand. “I’m Phoebe, by the way.”

  Charlotte was stunned and immediately shook her head.

  “Hi, Phoebe. I’m Charlotte. You are really so generous, but I couldn’t do that. It doesn’t seem right. Whatever I get, I should pay for.”

  “Well, okay. Listen,” she continued, her eyes sparkling conspiratorially. “Try it on. If you like it, then take it. Come back tomorrow morning around eight, when I open up, and we’ll just put it back on the shelf, and you can make a donation to the shop—consider it a rental fee. As long as the dress comes back in one piece, what’s the harm?”