French Silk(102)

His biceps were as round and hard as apples. Soft dark hair lined his armpits and matted his chest, which rose above a flat, taut belly. It tapered into a narrow waist and an even trimmer pelvis. His sex was full and firm, and Claire knew it by touch, smell, and taste.

She tried to suppress the erotic memories as she closed the door behind her. He turned his head. "Hi."

"Hi."

"Everything all right?"

"It is now. It wasn't. She was awfully upset."

"About what?"

"Is that any business of yours?"

He eased his hands from beneath his head and propped himself on one elbow. "Don't get your stinger out, Claire. It was a politely curious question."

She sat on the edge of the bed but kept her back to him. "Her lover broke off their affair. And don't ask me who he was because I can't divulge that."

"I didn't intend to ask."

"So … good. We've got no problem."

"Really? Could have fooled me. From your tone of voice, I'd guess we do."

She stiffened her spine. "You should go back to your room now. Yasmine would like to shower and sleep for a couple of hours before we start working."

"This hasn't got anything to do with Yasmine."

"All right, it doesn't." Claire sprang to her feet and turned to confront him. She flung her hand toward the French doors. "In case you haven't noticed, Cassidy, the sun is up. It's morning."

"So what? Are you going to turn into a pumpkin?"

"No, but you're going to turn into an assistant district attorney who would love to pin a murder rap on me."

"Did you commit murder?"

"I don't have to answer that."

"I'd prefer you didn't, if it's going to be another lie."

"Just leave."

He threw off the sheet and sprang from the bed, naked and sexy. Carnal recollections of last night elbowed their way into her consciousness. They were unwelcome, but they were there nevertheless and she was forced to make room for them. Seeing him like this, she longed to touch him again, to feel his powerful thighs against hers, to have his hands stroking her body.

She watched as he pulled on the old, faded jeans he'd worn into her room the night before. He didn't button them this time, either. They had molded to his body so well and so long ago that there was little risk of them falling down.

"Why don't you cut the bullshit about Yasmine and her secret lover and tell me what this is all about."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't." He aimed an index finger at the tip of her nose. "Don't retreat behind that lofty finishing-school disdain, Claire. I know now that it's an act you put on when it conveniently suits your purpose, when you want to avoid a confrontation. I met the real you last night. There," he said, pointing down at the rumpled bed.

"Is that why you took me to bed, so you could get to know me better?"

"Yes. In every sense."

"How romantic. Now what was the real reason?"

He grabbed her hand and shoved it into his open fly. "Drop this nonsense, kiss me, and in about twenty seconds your memory will be revived."

She pulled her hand free. "I'm sure you'll claim you only wanted to make love to me."

"That was the general idea, yeah."

"I don't believe you, Cassidy. You're always accusing me of lying. Now I think you are."

He snorted a laugh and shook his head in bafflement. "What? What happened during the half-hour you were gone?"

"I recaptured my sanity," she muttered, turning her head aside.

He took her chin between his fingers and drew her back around. "Don't talk to me in riddles."

"Okay, I'll be blunt," she said, lifting her chin off the perch of his fingertips. "Yasmine said some things that made me think."

"About what?"

"Sweet talk."

"Come again?"

Yasmine's question as to how Cassidy had wound up in her bed had yanked her from the warm, hazy glow of being in love and had plunged her into cold reality. Feeling tremulous but sounding intentionally hostile, she asked, "Why did you sleep with me last night?"

"Isn't that rather obvious, Claire?"

"You'd like me to think so."

"We wanted each other," he said.

"But you initiated it."

"You weren't coerced."

"No, you didn't come to me waving your ID, or with a satchel full of official documents, or issuing threats. You were much too clever for that because you know how I resent and resist authority. Instead you approached me as a man to a woman. You tapped into my jealousy. Yes," she said, slicing the air with her hands. "For whatever irrational reason, I was jealous of Yasmine yesterday. You took advantage of that and the sexual ambience that prevails over our sets.

"Yasmine talked about being a fool," she continued. "I comforted her by saying that, at one time or another, we all take departures from our better judgment and it's usually because of our libidos.

"That's when it occurred to me what a colossal fool I'd been. You wooed me into bed, hoping that by morning you'd have your killer. Maybe you were counting on breaking down my defenses and getting a confession before dawn."