Triple Time. Regina Kyle
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and rested his forearm against the wall above her head. The stench of the alley faded, replaced by a mix of toothpaste, soap and his woodsy cologne.
“It’s pretty self-explanatory.” She swallowed hard to relieve the sudden dryness in her throat. “You...”
“Quiet.” He held up a hand.
“What the...?”
He cut her off with a finger on her lips as the sound of footsteps and distant chatter grew louder.
“Damn it, we lost him.” A male voice, tight and gruff.
“Are you sure it was him?” Another man, this one higher pitched.
“Sure, I’m sure. Do you think I’d forget the face of the scumbag who locked Frank up?”
“What’s a district attorney doing at a rave?”
“How the fuck should I know? Maybe he’s undercover.” The footsteps stopped and Devin could just make out two hulking shadows at the mouth of the alley. Their backs to her, they looked like linebackers, big and bulky and capable of inflicting serious bodily injury without breaking a sweat.
Shit. The night had gone from bad to worse to flat-out disastrous.
She held her breath and shifted nearer to Gabe, who slipped his hand from her mouth to her wrist and pulled her around the Dumpster.
The sharp rasp of a match strike echoed in the muggy August air. “How about that chick he was with? Sweet piece of ass.”
Instinctively, Devin lunged toward the voices, but Gabe held her back, wrapping a protective arm around her waist and tugging her against his rock-solid torso. She pressed her lips together, her heart beating fast from the threat of being discovered—and from Gabe’s hot, hard embrace.
“Put that damn thing out. We don’t have time for a smoke break. They can’t have gotten that far. Come on.”
The men moved off, their steps and voices fading into the darkness.
“Christ, that was close.” Devin let out the breath she’d been holding and shuddered, prompting Gabe to wrap his other arm around her and draw her closer. “Think it’s safe to head out?”
“Too soon.” His mouth was at her ear, his lips tickling the lobe as he spoke. “We need to give them a head start.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He was too tempting, too close, the inexplicable pull he had on her too strong to resist. She spun in his arms so that the fringe on her tube top swung wildly, brushing his chest. “Got any ideas how we can pass the time?”
“Oh, I’ve got ideas.” He loosened his hold and tried to step away from her, but she followed him, twining an arm around his neck to keep him from escaping.
“Let me guess. Charades? Would You Rather? Pin the Banana Peel on the Dumpster?” Her hand threaded through the short crisp hairs at the nape of his neck, and she guided him with one knee, backing him up against the exposed brick of the warehouse. “Or maybe something a little more...intimate?”
“You realize we’re on a public street, right?” He looked both ways like he was casing the area for witnesses. “Anyone could come along and find us. Hell, someone almost did.”
She laughed softly and tossed her hair, making sure to give him a whiff of her perfume. Chanel No. 5. Endorsed by Marilyn Monroe and guaranteed to drive a man wild. Was that what she’d been planning when she’d given in to a last-minute whim and dabbed it on before leaving her apartment? She shook off the question and trailed a finger down his arm. “That didn’t stop you from making out with me on my doorstep.”
“I wasn’t...myself that night.”
Her wayward finger traveled up his chest and undid one of the buttons on his polo. “And you are now?”
“I’m not sure anymore.”
She eased a leg between his, rocking into him.
He moaned. “You make me crazy.”
“Crazy can be good.” She tilted her head to run her lips along his jawline. “Very, very good.”
“Or very, very bad.” His silky voice was almost a caress, so low she barely heard him.
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
With a groan, he turned his head and their mouths met in a frenzy of need. His hands came up to cup her face, his grip gentle yet firm enough to keep her lips exactly where he wanted them. Devin sighed and relaxed against him, needing the support since her legs felt like two strands of overcooked spaghetti. She may have been the one to start the fire, but Gabe’s kiss left no doubt who was in control now. And while she wasn’t normally into the whole dom/sub thing, it was different with Gabe. Giving in to him felt right. Safe. And at the same time scary as shit.
After what could have been one minute or twenty, he lowered his hands to her shoulders and the kiss softened, his mouth more patient than plundering. She reached up to undo the last button on his polo, needing to see more of him, feel more of him, when something in the air made her break off.
“What’s that smell?” She gave a little sniff.
He ran a hand through his hair and frowned. “We’re in an alley. Everything smells. You’ve got to be more specific than that.”
“I’m glad one of us can crack jokes.” The pile of newspapers rustled and Devin had the sudden suspicion that whatever was under there was black and white and the source of the scent that interrupted their kiss. “Think we can get out of here before this night gets any freaking worse?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Gabe titled her chin so she was forced to look at him. Instead of the annoyance she expected to see, his eyes sparked with mischief. “It’s had its moments. I can’t wait to see what you’ve got in store for me next.”
“Next?” Was he serious?
“But not tonight.” He let go of her chin and took her hand. Together, they left the dim alley and stepped into the streetlamp-flooded street. “We’ve had about as much fun as I can handle in one evening.”
“WHAT’S THE MATTER with you, man?” Cade Hardesty flopped into the bleacher seat next to Gabe and nudged him with his elbow. Beer sloshed from his plastic cup onto Gabe’s Top-Sider shoes. “Not a cloud in the sky, the Yanks are ahead by three and Sabathia just struck out the side. And you’re sitting there looking like you lost your best friend.”
Gabe dabbed at the stain on his left shoe with a napkin. “Maybe I’m rooting for the Sox.”
“Fat chance,” Cade said when the cheering died down from Teixeira’s lead-off single. “Your mind’s been somewhere else the whole game. Bad week at work?”
“You could say that.” The Park Avenue case was turning out to be a huge headache. No physical evidence. No motive. Nothing even missing from the apartment. And the only witness who could put the defendant in the area at the time of the murders was waffling more than Brett Favre in the off-season. It’d be a miracle if Gabe got it past the grand jury.
He wasn’t having any better luck with Victor. Gabe had managed to dig up the name of his old caseworker, but she wasn’t returning his calls. Maybe Monday he’d track her down at her office. Better that than disappoint Devin.
Devin.
Two times he’d been alone with her, and both had ended the same way. With him hot, hard and horny. He had to keep reminding himself that their arrangement was a business deal, nothing more. That they couldn’t keep their hands off each other was just an added complication. And the last thing he needed in his life right now was complications. Not when he was so close to climbing the next rung of his career ladder.
“Wanna