L.A. Confidential (14 page)

She looked up, wanting to see if she'd imagined the criticism in his voice. But he was only smiling and urging her forward.

“It's easy. Your basic eight steps.” He demonstrated while she stood there like a lump. He looked so sexy the way his body moved in his loose khakis and sport coat that she really couldn't do anything but stare. “Got it?”

She nodded dumbly.

They tried together, but she managed to trip over first her own feet and then his. She knew her cheeks had to be bright red, and she hoped everyone in the club wasn't staring at her.

After a few more fumbling attempts, he gave up, holding her at arm's length. He was laughing, and his eyes were dancing, so at least she knew she hadn't destroyed his evening.

“I told you I couldn't dance,” she said.

“And you didn't lie.” He kept his voice perfectly serious, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth revealed his amusement.

“Mmm.” She frowned. “Take pity on me? Take me back to the booth and buy me another drink.”

“I've got a better idea.”

Before she knew what was happening, he gathered
her into his arms and started slow dancing, swaying not in time to the music, but to some rhythm that was only between the two of them.

“Ken, people will—”

“Shh.”

She almost protested more, but it felt too good to be in his arms. Instead she pressed herself against him, letting him rock them back and forth.

“I can't believe I'm in lo—” He stiffened, and she stifled the urge to look up, to see his face and know what he was thinking. He cleared his throat. “I can't believe I was once in love with a woman who can't dance.”

She laughed, knowing that was expected, and wanting to ease the moment. But her face was still pressed against his chest, and she frowned, wondering which was real—what he'd started to say or what he'd actually said.

And if he did still love her…what on earth was she going to do now?

T
HEY DANCED
for what seemed like hours, Lisa pressed against him, exactly where he wanted her to be. Only when they finally flashed the lights, indicating that the club was closing, did she leave his arms.

Now they were heading together toward his car, Lisa bouncing in front of him.

“That was great fun,” she said, doing a little twirl.

He laughed. “Oh, sure.
Now
you dance.”

“I danced with you.” Reaching out, she brushed the lapel of his jacket. Then she seemed to realize what she was doing, because she jerked her arm away, her gaze darting to the sidewalk as she turned to face forward.

She was everything he'd remembered and more. Warm, ambitious, funny. A woman he could talk to. The
only
woman he could talk to who set his body on edge. He had women friends, sure, but none whom he wanted to strip naked and sink deep inside.

And he'd been with women who'd made him hard as steel, who'd made his blood burn and his pulse race. But with them, sex was all he wanted. Lounging about, talking or laughing, seemed extraneous, even forced.

But with Lisa…with Lisa he wanted the whole package. The wild moments of decadence and the soft, intimate moments. The playful times and the quiet times. Everything. And damn, if that wasn't going to be a problem.

He tensed, mentally urging himself back to rational thought. Their history was pain. He'd gotten over it, true, but that didn't change that she'd hurt him. She'd been young and had career tunnel vision—he could understand; he'd been exactly the same.

The trouble now, though, was that he didn't believe she'd changed. As soon as she locked in her locations, she'd be out of here. He couldn't open himself up to her, not if he wanted to survive. Sleep with her? Sure. And he intended to do just that. But sex was sex and love was love, and right now—with Lisa—love was out of the question.

Sex, however, was very much on the horizon. A good thing, too, since the sight of her moving under that naughty red dress had him harder than he'd been since…well, since their night on the beach. He hurried to catch up, then pressed his palm against her back, delighting in the soft sigh that escaped her lips.

“Slow down, sweetheart. What's your rush?”

She tossed a smile over her shoulder as they stopped in front of his car. “I'm not in a hurry, soldier. I've got all the time in the world.”

“Yeah?” With his finger, he traced a path down her spine, thrilled by the little shiver his touch caused. She reached out, balancing herself against the frame of his car as a sigh escaped her. A sigh
he
caused.

Need came upon him with a primal demand, and he pressed up behind her, feeling the soft curves of her rear
against him, delicious and enticing. His car was parked in the far corner of the lot, a secluded, dark place. Perfect for a seduction.

“So tell me about the script,” he murmured as his hand slid along her bare back to caress the firm side of her breast.

“I, uh, what?”

“The script. What kind of locations?” He kept his voice low, demanding yet soft. “Anything outside?”

His finger flicked over her nipple, and she cried out, pushing herself against him as if she needed the contact as much as he did.

“Any outdoor locations?” he repeated.

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

“Are you wearing anything under that dress?” She nodded.

With his palm, he grazed her nipple, then pressed a soft kiss against her neck when she arched back in response. “You're not wearing a bra. So you must be wearing panties…?”

“Yes.” A whisper, barely audible.

“Take them off.”

She stiffened, and for a moment he thought she was going to protest. Then she reached up under her skirt and urged her panties down until they fell in a puddle of pink silk around her ankles.

He bent and picked them up as she stepped out of them. As he stood, he trailed his fingers up the back of her leg. She shifted, opening her legs for him, but it wasn't an invitation he was ready for yet.

Instead he nuzzled her neck. “Not here.” Reaching around her, he opened the door to the car and helped her inside.

“Where?”

“Soon,” he said, then shut the door and walked around the car to the driver's side. The night was cool, but it did nothing to lower his body temperature. He'd been tempted to take her right there in the parking lot. To pull up her dress and sink into her warm, slick heat. He wanted it, she wanted it. Fortunately for both of them, he still had a modicum of self-control.

“Are we going far?” she asked as he cranked the engine.

“Not far.”

Her sultry grin warmed him. “Good.”

His sentiments exactly.

It took all his concentration to keep his eyes on the road and not on the woman next to him, but somehow he managed. After a few minutes they were on Mulholland Drive heading west, the lights of the city burning below them like pinpricks of light through a black velvet curtain.

When he reached the curve in the road he'd been looking for, he pulled off onto the dirt shoulder and got out of the car.

“Where are we?” she asked when he opened her door.

“Overlook,” he said, pointing across the street at the bench poised at the top of a small hill. “Privacy, and a view.”

“Privacy?”

“Absolutely. Nobody driving by's going to look up at that bench.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Besides, it's almost 3:00 a.m.” He slipped his arm around her waist. “Shall we?”

She hesitated less than a second before nodding. “Let's.”

They climbed up the hill, following the narrow footpath that thousands of lovers must have walked before them. When they finally crested the hill, Lisa sighed. “Oh, Ken. It's beautiful.”

He had to agree. The bench faced the Westside, its back facing Mulholland and the San Fernando Valley. The lights of Los Angeles spread out below them, ending abruptly in the distance where the city gave way to the ocean.

“It's perfect,” she said, and he was unsure whether she meant for her movie or for them.

Moving behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, breathing in the fresh scent of her hair. “I could stay this way forever,” he murmured as she sighed contentedly. It was a lie, though. With every passing moment, his awareness of her grew, and his body burned hot and hard merely from her touch. Forever would drive him crazy. He had to have more of her.

Bending slightly, he caught the hem of her dress in his fingers, then urged it up until he'd revealed the back of her lush thigh that seemed to go on forever. She shivered, a little moan escaping. “Are you cold?” he asked.

She shook her head, gasping when he traced the soft flesh where her hip and thigh met. He was hard as steel, and he pressed close, letting her stroke and tease him with the movements of her firm rear while he did the same to her with his touch.

Like a man seeking treasure, he slipped his hand in front, stroking her coarse, damp curls, then down, further, until his finger was poised just before heaven. He
stopped, and she squirmed, her impatient movements thrilling him no end.

“Say it,” he whispered.

“Don't…don't stop.”

His lips brushed her hair and then the back of her ear as his other hand slipped under the bodice of that wonderful dress. Her nipples were hard, and she leaned forward, silently pleading with him to continue his caresses.

“Don't stop what?”

“What you're doing. Touching me.” Her words were breathy, her head tilted back to the stars.

“Tell me what I'll find. Are you wet? Do you want me?”

She took a breath, her body trembling. “Yes. Oh, yes, please.”

His fingers dipped low, his own moan coming in unison with hers when he discovered how warm and wet she was. She wanted him, craved him, and the knowledge was intoxicating. He stroked her, teasing and playing, finding her core and moving his fingers in slow, rhythmic motions, then faster and faster until she stiffened in his arms and he knew she was on the edge.

When he stopped, she cried out, begging him to continue, but he simply guided her to the bench, then sat down. He urged her onto his lap, straddling him. He wanted to feel her against him, wanted to see her face as he took her over the edge.

Her wide eyes were dark and pleading, and he knew he couldn't disappoint her. With a fluid motion, he slipped his hand between them, stroking her again as
she arched back against the arm wrapped around her waist.

Leaning forward, he closed his mouth over her breast, sucking and teasing through the slippery fabric as she writhed against his hand. Her breath came faster and faster and he knew she was about to explode in his arms.

With a slight tremble, she straightened, her face a mask of intense concentration as she leaned forward to tackle his fly.

“No, no,” he said, closing his hands over hers, even though he wanted to rip his fly open and sink into her. “This is about you.”

“Please. Oh, Ken, please. I want you.”

Damn, but he wanted to lose himself inside her. But that wasn't his plan. Not yet. She was on the edge, true. But his plan was for her to be falling over the precipice, hanging on by nothing more than her fingernails. And his plan was important, even if, at the moment, he couldn't exactly remember why.

But right then, right there, she was warm and willing, and he wanted her. Wanted her more than he could remember wanting anything in his life.

With a guttural moan, he swallowed a curse and nodded. “Yes, sweetheart, I want you, too.”

 

S
HE HAD CONDOMS
in her purse, and Lisa didn't think she'd ever been more grateful to anyone than she was to Greg right then. Thank goodness he'd forced her to buy some. At the moment she just wished he'd insisted she get the twelve-pack.

She'd promised herself she wouldn't let Ken leave her
high and dry again. She wanted him, needed him even, and right now she intended to have him.

“Kiss me,” he whispered, and she readily obliged. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips over his, delighting in the way she felt him grow even harder beneath her. She concentrated on the kiss, sucking and teasing, urging his mouth open so she could explore to her heart's content.

A low groan rose from his throat, and she suppressed a secret smile, knowing she was the cause. His hands locked around her hips, rocking her back and forth as they both worked themselves into a frenzy.

“Now,” she whispered, and she reached for his fly when he nodded in silent agreement.

When he was free, she stroked him, reveling in the way he trembled at her touch. Faster and faster, she moved her hand over the velvety smoothness, wanting to take him to the edge just as he'd taken her.

His hand closed over hers, stopping her, and she looked up to see his eyes burning with passion. “Now,” he said, lifting her by the hips, until she was poised over him, the position teasing them both. She wriggled, wanting more contact, more intimacy, and then he delivered, thrusting her down again so that he impaled her in one fast, slick movement.

“Oh, yes. Ken, yes.” Her voice was barely a moan, and she rocked against him, tight around his shaft, finally experiencing what she'd wanted so badly so many years ago. And now that she was here, in his arms, lost in a haze of passion with him, she knew she didn't want to live without his touch ever again.

They rocked together, at first slow and languid, then faster and faster as passion grew. He buried his face
between her breasts, suckling and teasing through the thin material of her dress. His hands stroked her thighs, teasing the soft inner skin.

His thumb sought her most sensitive spot, his rhythmic motion keeping time with their primal dance. His touch was like electricity, shooting through her, pooling in her center, but radiating out to her fingers and toes.

“Lisa,” he murmured, his voice straining. “Oh, Lisa.”

He trembled beneath her, and she knew he was on the edge, just as she was. “Please,” she whispered, even as he thrust into her, satisfying her every wish with that one, claiming movement.

The world exploded around her, and she threw her body forward, clutching his shoulders as she tilted her head back. Above them, the stars blurred into a maelstrom of swirling light. His hands around her felt warm and safe, and she curled up against him, her head buried against his shoulder. This man.
Ken.
A man who made her feel things she'd never felt before. She trembled, and his arms tightened.

“Cold?”

“I'm fine,” she said, but she wasn't. She was lost, confused. Totally unsure about how she felt about him, or about how he felt about her. She bit her lip, wondering if she was just an object of revenge. He'd almost said he loved her, almost said it out loud. So maybe he did. Maybe he always had.

He pulled her close against him, his arms providing the comfort she needed. Could they go back to what they once had? She didn't know, but right then, right there, lost in a haze of passion, she almost believed they could.

In so many ways she wanted to rejoice, to kiss him, to sing loud and clear, to dance around. But one tiny part of her held back, cold and terrified, certain she'd have to give up everything in order to love Ken.

 

A
LICIA STOOD
on the darkened road, a camera with a zoom lens pressed to her face as she watched Ken and Lisa on the bench, unaware as they made love that their little tryst was being recorded for posterity.

Bastard.
And the little bitch, too. She'd done her research on Lisa Neal. The woman had thrown away a perfectly good career blowing studio money up her nose with her lover, Drake Tyrell. And now Winston Miller was giving her a second chance. Unbelieveable.

No one had ever given her a second chance; she'd had to scrape and claw for every crumb.

And even more unbelievable, Ken Harper was holding Lisa Neal in his arms. Tasting her, kissing her. And looking for all the world like he enjoyed it.