“You are so clueless,” he said softly. “How can you see everything else, and not know how much I want you?”
Her smoky, wet-lashed eyes wandered over his face like a silken caress. “You what?”
“I want you,” he ground out, meaning the words as a warning this time.
When she moistened her lips, as if in anticipation, he took control of the only thing he could: her mouth. He pulled her body against his, wanting to punish her for making him want her so much he’d become reckless and impulsive, the kind of man he despised.
To his amazement, her lips parted and she kissed him back, tentatively at first, shyly touching her tongue to his. Then she moaned, flattening her breasts against his chest and lacing her fingers through his hair, driving him right over the edge from inappropriate to insane.
Groaning, he deepened the kiss, tasting her thoroughly, plumbing the sweet recesses of her mouth. His hands, no less eager to explore, moved down to cup her bottom. With a slight shudder, he pressed close, unable to contain his excitement, or his arousal. There were advantages to her height, he discovered. He didn’t have to lift her to get her in the position he wanted. They fit together perfectly.
He felt the soft apex of her thighs cradling his erection, and was overwhelmed by the need to have her hot, wet, naked, now. Changing the angle of his kiss, he backed her toward a concrete picnic table, seeking a flat surface on which to lay her down. When her bottom hit the table, she sat on its edge and wrapped her long, silky legs around him.
At that moment, he abandoned common sense in favor of raw sensation.
Desperate for the feel of her bare skin, he rode one hand up her sleek thigh and slid the other underneath her T-shirt, filling his palm with her breast. Through the thin fabric of her bra, he felt her nipple, tight with need. He circled his thumb over the pebbled tip as she cried out, twisting her fingers in his hair.
Her small sound of pleasure rang out in the open space, reminding him of where they were. Lifting his head, he searched the deserted park for somewhere more private than a picnic table and more romantic than a public rest room.
Across the street, Crystal Dunn’s news van was parked. One of her cronies was pointing a telephoto lens out the passenger side window, straight at him.
Marc saw his entire career flash before his eyes.
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
Her eyelids fluttered open. “Wh-what?”
One moment, he was kissing her ravenously, moving his strong, eager hands all over her body, taking everything, holding nothing back. The next, he had completely withdrawn.
“I didn’t mean to do that.” He jerked his hand out from beneath her shirt like a kid caught in a cookie jar. His eyes swept down her body, coming to rest at the top of her thighs, making her all too aware of the sensual image she presented, legs splayed before him, her soft terry-cloth shorts barely covering what was necessary.
“CSI will be here any minute,” he said, pushing himself away from her.
Did he still think she had something to do with that…monster who defiled women? Indignation burned through her like wildfire, and she hated him, hated herself, hated her body’s traitorous reaction to his touch. Even now, she wanted him to continue, to put his hand back under her shirt, or better yet, between her legs, to soothe the torment he’d created.
They waited for his team in bitter silence. When crime scene investigators arrived on the scene, he gave them a few terse instructions and pulled Detective Lacy aside. “I need you to check with residents about a suspicious character hanging around last night.”
She darted a glance at Sidney. “Do you have a description?”
“Not really. Possible Caucasian. Thin build. Average to above-average height.”
Nodding, she hurried away to complete the task. Marc turned back to Sidney. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
Unless she wanted to be stranded, Sidney didn’t have much choice, so she quickened her stride to keep up with him. He was rushing toward his car, which wasn’t unusual, as he was a man who lived at a fast pace. Before they got there, she realized he had another reason to hurry: Crystal Dunn and her omnipresent news crew.
“Get that goddamned camera out of my face,” he ordered, opening the door for Sidney. When she got in, he slammed it, effectively cutting her out of the conversation.
Crystal asked the cameraman to give her five.
“Slumming, Marc?” she asked, standing between him and the driver side, a not-so-sweet smile on her pretty face.
Sidney’s jaw dropped. Although she was inside the car, she could hear every word, and had no trouble catching the slight.
“I went slumming once,” he replied, giving her a pointed look.
“It wasn’t that good.”
Crystal laughed with the confidence of a woman who knew she was being lied to. Sidney wanted to rip her perfectly coiffed platinum hair out by its dark blond roots.
“Look, I don’t have anything for you. Go chase another bone.”
“I guess I’ll go over your head, then,” she said, smoothing her hand over the front of his shirt. “Talk to Stokes.”
His features hardened. “What do you want?”
“An exclusive. With her.”
Sidney’s stomach clenched in apprehension. If Crystal Dunn wanted a story on her, it meant the end of her privacy, her peace, her only protection.
“No,” he said flatly. “This is a murder investigation, not an entertainment opportunity.”
“I’m running it, Marc. With or without her.”
“We’ll see about that. Stokes holds some sway with Carlisle, too, you know. And she didn’t have to go down on her knees to get it.”
Unlike their earlier exchange about slumming, this barb hit its mark. Her expression as brittle as ice, Crystal turned on her pencil-slim heels and walked away.
When he got in the car, she let him stew for a few moments.
“Who’s Stokes?” she asked.
“My boss.”
“And Carlisle?”
“Hers.”
Sidney nodded, needing no further elaboration. If Marc had caught Crystal sleeping her way to the top while they were involved, it was no wonder he didn’t trust women. “Does she know about me?” she asked.
“She wouldn’t want an exclusive if she didn’t.”
“Can I sue the station?”
“You can threaten to. But that only works if they’re planning to say something about you that isn’t true.”
“Even if it compromises your investigation?”
“Even then. Professional ethics aside, what the press finds out about, they can use. It’s my job to protect information we don’t want out.”
He didn’t say it, but she knew he thought he’d failed. Because he was the kind of man who judged his self- worth in terms of self-control, he was probably angrier with himself than with Crystal Dunn. He couldn’t stop the leak of information and he couldn’t prevent the killer from taking more women off the streets.
The fact that he was having a hard time, in more ways than one, did little to assuage Sidney’s anger. By invading her home and violating her privacy, he’d made her his enemy.
If her lawyer was anyone but Greg, she’d be looking forward to making Marc pay.
At OPD, Deputy Chief Stokes was on a rampage.
After Marc dropped Sidney off at her house, he went down to headquarters, dreading the inevitable confrontation. It came sooner than expected.
As he sat down at his desk, Lacy made a gesture from across the room, slicing her forefinger across her throat, indicating his current status as dead meat. Instead of running scared, he got up and walked into Stokes’s office.
