Picture This Page 7

  A red teddy caught her eye and she detoured from the display of hose. What color did Cory like best? Did he prefer lace? Silk? Satin? All of the above? God, what she wouldn’t give to have a no strings attached, no heart involved fling with a man! What was she, fourteen? Wasn't a woman over thirty supposed to be mature enough to have sex with a man without fancying herself completely in love?

  Yet, she knew that was exactly what would happen. Already, she couldn't get him out of her mind. Oh, she wasn't immature enough to believe herself ponytail over sneakers for him after a near dry hump against a corridor wall. But she was close. It didn't take much to change the four letters in the word lust to the four that formed the word love.

  Pathetic. She was utterly pathetic.

  Rayne rolled her eyes and moved to another rack, this one of panties. It was the black satin and lace thongs that made her smile. Ah, yes, the perfect match to the bra still in her glove box, to the bra that had embarrassed her to blushing in front of Detective Ford ‘Drink Me’ Harris.

  And just like that, she knew the solution to her love/lust problem.

  * * * *

  Ford saw the smile unfold on her sultry lips and felt the effect stir in his cock. He hadn't recognized her at first. He'd damn near passed the shop when he'd stopped in his tracks and did a double take.

  Holy Moly, the innocent school teacher really was a goddess! Gone were the glasses, the ponytail, and the too big for her clothes. He stood outside the display window and watched her step to a rack of truly cock-teasing panties, letting his gaze drop to her feet and work its way up.

  Heels. Well, okay, he supposed they were called pumps because they looked to be no more than an inch and a half. Still, they elevated her body in a way that showed the distinct muscles in her calves. He loved a woman's calves!

  Stockings covered her legs. He knew because of the distinct difference in coloring from her lighter flesh and, as his gaze climbed, he wondered if the mid-thigh gray skirt concealed a garter belt and straps. Her blouse tucked into the waistband of the skirt was a practical white if not practical in design. It fit like a glove, the neckline square but low enough to offer a tempting view of the generous swell of breasts the fabric concealed. Her tawny hair fell in a silky wave of evenly cut strands around her shoulders and down her back. And her face, he'd thought her unforgettable before, but remove the glasses and add a touch of makeup, and damn!

  She turned her head, affording him a truly spectacular view of her side profile and the ease of approaching her without her seeing him. His gaze flicked to the clothing in her hands. The black satin bikini-cut panties that, oh yeah, he could definitely picture on her slim, trim body.

  "Looking for a present for Sunshine?"

  Her head jerked around, her attention landing on him. Superman had nothing on this chick when it came to the whole glasses for disguise thing. He simply couldn’t get over the transformation from the sweet, bashful school teacher to heart-pounding, sultry sex kitten.

  Surprise moved over her face, followed quickly by recognition. Ford half expected her to blush at his question, but she surprised him yet again. She angled her head, lifted one perfect tawny brow, and licked her red painted lips in that way that made his cock confused as to whether it wanted to melt or harden to the point of brain-bursting agony.

  "Officer Harris, looking to slap the handcuffs on me this time?"

  Oh, baby. His cock went for choice number two as her voice, smooth as whipped cream and as warm as hot chocolate, moved over him. Was the double entendre in her question intentional?

  His gaze dropped to her wrists. Yeah, getting his handcuffs around them would surely be a treat. As would seeing just how bad the sex kitten Rayne Jacobs could be because, oh boy, the gleam in her stormy eyes was flashing with a desire to be dangerously bad.

  "That depends." He took a step closer. She smelled incredible, a sweetly spicy scent that did an exotic dance through his body and landed hard in his loins. "Are you looking to steal those or did you have something else in mind?"

  "Actually, I was looking for a match to the bra. You know, for Sunshine."

  For Sunshine. Jesus, save him.

  "What do you think?" She turned the hanger in her fingers, holding the panties up just below his eye level.

  Ford's gaze locked with hers. Was she coming on to him? Little Miss Bashful who blushed so many times in the short span of getting a speeding ticket that he couldn’t count them on one hand? He decided to test the theory.

  "If you want my opinion, I'd go for these." He reached over, snatched a pair of lace thongs from the rack, and held them up. The corners of her mouth twitched and she drew her bottom lip between her teeth. It might have been in an attempt to hold back a smile, but the effect was so freaking sexy, he damn near sobbed.

  Instead, he tested the theory further, lowering the panties to her waist and holding them against her body. Her very shapely, very warm, very soft body. Shit! He was doomed.

  "You should probably try them on first to make sure they match before gifting them to Sunshine."

  "Try them on," she repeated slowly, her gaze dancing over his face. "For you? I'm not sure that's a smart move."

  "How about we start with dinner and drinks then?"

  "So you can get me drunk and then give me a DUI? Thanks, but I'd rather not." She turned her attention back to the rack of panties, her long fingers grazing over the satin and lace and driving him absolutely fucking nuts!

  Images, pornographic enough that his cock actually began to whimper, flashed through his mind in super slow motion. He saw Rayne in red thongs, Rayne in blue lace, Rayne in yellow satin. Rayne. Rayne. Rayne. Shit. Shit. Triple shit!

  "A drink. We'll each have one with the appetizer, soda with dinner, coffee for desert. We'll talk until we're certain the alcohol is no longer a threat to our senses and then we'll go home."

  She looked at him, her eyes widening slightly as she studied him. She seemed to go through some sort of mental hemming and hawing before finally reaching a decision. "I still have some shopping to finish. Why don't we meet outside Vilarias in an hour?"

  Vilarias was a classy, quiet Mexican restaurant inside the mall with a lounge. Not a bad choice. "I'll see you in an hour," he agreed, then stifled a half laugh, half tortured groan when she flashed him a smile, plucked the black lace thongs from his fingers, and sauntered to the cash register.

  * * * *

  His eyes were even more intoxicating by candle light. Rayne drew her oversized Margarita glass closer and leaned in for a sip as she gazed at Ford across the table in the dim Mexican restaurant. Yeah, it was definitely the eyes making her feel all woozy because she'd barely drank a dent in her Margarita. Dear Lord, had she lost her mind coming here with him?

  "Is this your way of apologizing?" She sat back, her fingers toying with her straw. Who would have thought she would run into Detective Drink Me in Victoria's Secret? And hadn't the timing been pure coincidence? Just when she'd decided the best way to get her mind off of Cory Nox, to prevent herself from falling for him, just when Ford had popped into her mind instead, there he'd been. Coincidence or fate? Who the hell knew?

  "Apologizing for what?" He sat in the booth seat across from her, the perfect picture of wicked sexy laid back cool. One arm stretched along the back of the seat, his other hand curled around a glass of, no surprise there, Jack Daniels whisky. He wore a dark green, button down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and the top three buttons left undone.

  Rayne's gaze kept fixating on his chest, on the patch of exposed flesh and the light spiral of blond hair there. Her mouth went dry with desire and she sipped her drink again. She jerked her gaze up and found him staring at her, a small smile toying on his lips. It was the same smile that made her melt in the seat of her car the previous morning and it hadn't lost an ounce of its effect. If anything, it was far more potent in the flickering flame of candlelight. Her belly fluttered, the sensation trickling down to tickle and mingle with the heat in her
core.

  She squirmed and sat up straighter. "For giving me a ticket yesterday morning? The first ticket I've ever had in my life, might I add."

  "You mean the first one you didn't talk your way out of," he corrected. He picked up his glass, sipped, and looked at her over the rim, his eyes twinkling with laughter.

  "No, I mean my first one ever, just like I said. Before yesterday morning, I'd never had the need to talk my way out of a ticket because I'd never even been stopped."

  He lowered his glass slowly, surprise moving through his expression. He started to say something but closed his mouth when the waitress approached the table with their appetizer of beef and cheese nachos.

  "You're serious," he finally said when the waitress walked away. There was as much awe in his voice as in his face. "Wow! I just thought, I mean, the check I ran returned no priors but I figured…"

  "That, like a lot of women on the planet, I was simply good at pinning the bullshit meter to get my ass out of trouble?" she finished for him, reaching for a nacho.

  "Well, yeah." He laughed and shook his head. "Guess I got that wrong. I should've known."

  "Because?" Rayne narrowed her eyes. What? Did he think her not smart enough, smooth enough, hot enough to talk her way out of a ticket? She wasn't. Which raised a major red flag in the center of this whole situation because what was a guy like him doing with her?

  Ford Harris was triple sex to the max. He was pure alpha male with supreme confidence and the body and, yes, the eyes to back it up. Rayne wasn't a contender for twins with Sunshine's favorite can of Alpo, but she was by far not the type of woman a man like Ford usually found attractive.

  "You were honest," he said simply and surprised the heck out of her. "Actually, the fact that you didn't try to talk your way out of it, the way you went for balls out truth instead, did make me think."

  Her honesty had made him think. Not her looks or lack thereof.

  He reached for a nacho, took a bite, and damn Skippy, the man could even make munching on a loaded chip sexy!

  "Trust me, it had nothing to do with your lack of proper, shall we say, physical attributes," his gaze dropped pointedly to her breasts, "to get you out of a jam. Although, those clothes you were wearing…" He shook his head. "What you have on now is much better. And the glasses, it truly blows my mind how different you look without them."

  "I don't have to wear them," she felt compelled to explain. "I’m supposed to when I’m driving but the rest of the time, I go without them. Next time I get stopped for speeding, I'll remember to take them off."

  "Don't speed and there won't be a next time," he countered with another of those dazzle-her-to-her-toes smiles and a quick lift of one brow.

  "Touché." She laughed and bit into another chip. "Spoken like a true officer."

  "Detective."

  That's right. His badge had read Detective Ford Harris. The waitress returned, this time with their entrees and sodas. Rayne waited until they were alone again before she went on.

  "Detective of what and why were you on traffic duty instead of out somewhere," she waved her fork in the air, "detecting a case?"

  "Narcotics Detective and I lost my shirt in a game of poker."

  "So, rather than take off your pants, you, what, took another officer's shift in trade?"

  "Her idea." Ford shrugged and dug into his overstuffed burrito supreme.

  "Stupid. I would've gone for the pants." Eek! Had she said that aloud? Rayne looked at him, and yes, the heat crackling between them now left no doubt he’d heard her. She felt the sizzle, the flaming embers as they rained through her, swift and red hot. And the look he gave her in return, Mama Mia, she knew exactly what was on his mind.

  * * * *

  Dinner with Rayne proved to be a test in control and resolve. By the time Ford led her out the doors of the restaurant a good two hours later, his cock hurt badly enough he could hardly walk. His hands itched to touch and a hunger grated inside him that no amount of food had managed to appease.

  "What were you thinking about?" He put his hand on the small of her back and steered her down the sidewalk to the nearly empty parking lot. The mall had closed over an hour ago, the eatery staying open later, and all the cars that remained belonged to the few patrons left inside the Mexican restaurant.

  "When?" She pointed and started leading him off the sidewalk. "My car is over here."

  Ford saw it, recognized the bluish-purple Saturn ION sitting alone in the fifth slot of a nearly empty row. "Yesterday morning. You said you weren't paying attention and that's why you were speeding. What were you paying attention to?"

  "A project I'm working on. Well, will be working on. I actually haven't started it yet." They reached the car and she used the remote to pop the trunk. She slung her department store bags inside, the one from Victoria’s Secret landing on top with the department name staring up at him as if to tease and torment. Yeah, he knew what she had inside that bag. He couldn’t help but wonder if the ones she had on beneath her gray skirt looked anywhere near as sexy.

  "I'm a photographer. Freelance." She closed the trunk and turned to him. "Where are you parked?"

  “Back lot. Other side of the mall." The store he'd actually come to was located at the back of the mall. He'd parked outside it, expected to zip in, snag the boots he'd come for, and zip out again. The store unfortunately hadn't had his size. Because he'd had plenty of time to kill and he really, really needed new boots, he'd decided to walk the mall, see if another store carried his style. Instead, he'd found Rayne.

  "Hop in. I'll give you a ride." She didn't wait for him to protest or accept. She simply pushed the remote button to release the door locks and went around to the driver's side.

  No way would Ford squabble. He hadn't found the boots he'd been looking for and the ones on his feet were falling apart. His feet would be killing him by the time he walked all the way around to the backside of the mall.

  Yeah, that was why he got into the car with her. Right.

  The interior of the car smelled like her. He caught himself taking deep breaths, inhaling her scent as if he'd been starved for oxygen. His knees were in his chest, the seat was pushed up that far, and he reached for the mechanism to slide it back.

  "Do you mind?" he asked her even as he used his feet placement in the floorboard for leverage to scoot back as far as the guide would allow. Some people were fanatical about the seats in their car.

  "No, make yourself comfortable." She started the engine and shot him a grin. "Sunshine has shorter legs."

  Ford chuckled. Then his gaze landed on the glove box at his knees and he stopped laughing, remembering what was in there, what was in that VS bag in the trunk. Oh, boy. He looked at Rayne who reached for the shift in the floor and put the car in drive, the movement causing that low neckline of her blouse to dip even farther. Shit, shit, shit! Ford cleared his throat.

  "How did you get into photography?"

  "Boredom." When he lifted a brow, she laughed, shrugged, and said, "Seriously. My parents were more involved with their own lives than me and my brother. He's older and likes to blow shit up. Really, he gets off on all the scientific concoctions, Dr. Frankenstein shit. Me? I found a camera and learned to take pictures to occupy my time. Are you sure you remember where you parked? I don't see, oh, wait, back there."

  She'd spotted his car parked way back in the lot, not another car around it. In fact, his was the only car left in the dimly lit parking lot. She let out a low whistle as she pulled up next to it, put her car in park.

  "Nice wheels, Detective. Tell me, how many speeding tickets do you rack up in any given year?"

  "None." She was looking at him, one hand resting on the gear shift, her other wrist draped over the steering wheel. His world tilted. She sat there gazing at him with amusement reflecting in her eyes from the lights of the dashboard and all he could see was the heated desire beneath. God, he wanted her. Right here, right now, he wanted his cock inside her as far as he could get it and the
n some. And what was he, freaking eighteen? Ready to take the girl into the backseat in a deserted mall parking lot and fuck her mindless!

  "You drive a Corvette and you want me to believe you never get speeding tickets. Oh, but wait, of course you don't because you're a cop. I bet all cops let their fellow co-workers off with warnings or slaps on the hand for being naughty boys, right?"

  That brought him back, a spiraling rush through a deep black hole of a memory he didn't want right now. "I don't," he told her seriously, honestly. "I don't take warnings and I don't give them. Speeding is too dangerous. People who speed give their lives and they take lives."

  Her smile faded and he wanted to kick himself in the ass for taking away that playful light in her expression. Still, he spoke the truth. He knew all too well exactly how true it was.

  There was more to the story and she knew it. He could tell by the mix of curiosity and concern in her eyes. But, to his relief, she didn't question him.

  "How did you get into law enforcement?"

  They were the same words he'd asked her not ten minutes ago, but for the change in profession and yet another quick swirl of worry tainted with a bit of oops moved through her eyes. Obviously, she thought whatever the deeper story might be, it was what led him to peruse a career with the police department. That happened a lot. People survived something traumatic and decided to devote the rest of their lives to fighting crime or saving others. Not so Ford. He'd already been a cop when the trauma darkened his doorstep.

  "Everyone in my family is in some form of law enforcement," he told her. "My parents are both attorneys, my grandmother is a judge, and my grandfather is a retired PD."

  "Any siblings? Maybe a home ec major obsessed with combining ingredients to make the next world famous dinner. A total spaz from the rest of the family."

  She was going for a joke mixed with the idle conversational question, but she'd unknowingly brought them full circle in their little get to know each other talk.

  "One," Ford answered quietly. "She died several years ago."