PASSIONATE ENCOUNTERS (22 page)

Is he blushing?
“I think we have the same feeling,”
she said softly, smiling in the face of his uncertain expression.

“I’m sorry your evening was ruined. I can’t even get you
home now, but I can call someone.”

“My evening isn’t ruined and we’ll discuss how I’m going to
get home later,” she cut in, turning to go up the stairs. “Which door?”

“Second on the left.”

Knowing Mike’s eyes were following her as she went upstairs,
Emma purposely exaggerated the sway of her hips for his entertainment. His
appreciative whistle was her reward and she tossed him a come hither look over
her shoulder, blowing him a kiss.

“You’re going to pay for that, sweetheart,” he called up to
her softly.

“I look forward to it,” she whispered back brazenly, just
before reaching Melissa’s door. She hesitated, hoping her presence was welcome.
“Melissa?” After knocking softly she opened the door a crack, listening for a
response. “It’s Emma. May I come in?”

“Yes.” Her reply was low and pitiful sounding.

Emma closed the door behind her, skirting around the bed to
the side Melissa was facing as she watched TV. Offering the girl a sympathetic
smile she sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you having an unpleasant first time,
honey?” She reached out and grasped her hand.

Melissa’s eyes widened as though Emma had just performed a
miraculous act or something. “How did you know?” she asked in a hushed tone.

Reaching forward, Emma brushed the hair away from her pale
face, noticing she felt a little warm in spite of what Mrs. Dawson said. “A
lucky guess. You’re at that age.”

Melissa made a face and clutched her belly.

“Is there a heating pad in the house?”

“I think there’s one in the hall closet. Dad sometimes uses
it on his leg.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Emma found the hallway closet without any trouble, rummaging
through the neat contents until she spied the heating pad at the bottom in a
basket. After grabbing it she went to the bathroom and searched the medicine
cabinet to see what Mike had in there for pain.

“Have you taken anything for the cramps yet?” she asked
Melissa upon entering the room again. Shaking her head negatively, Emma handed
her the pills she’d found, reaching for the glass of water sitting on the
nightstand. “Take these, honey, they’ll help.”

“Will it be like this every month?” she whined in
exaggerated misery, putting the empty glass down.

Emma smiled, quickly averting her face in the pretext of
looking for an outlet for the heating pad. “It shouldn’t be now that you know
how to treat it. The heating pad works wonders.” She sat back on the bed and
set it on low. “This little trick is fail proof. Lie on your back, bend your
knees and place this pad on your lower belly. The heat will draw out the pain
and after awhile the cramps will be gone.”

Melissa did as she was instructed, allowing Emma to arrange
one of the spare pillows beneath her knees. “Thank you.”

Emma sat back, smiling down at her. “Anytime, honey, I’m glad
I was around to help. Your dad was worried about you.”

“I was too embarrassed to tell him,” she admitted, blushing.
“I tried to keep it from Mrs. Dawson but once she suspected I wasn’t feeling
well, I knew she’d call him. She has this phobia about being around sick
people.”

“Yes I know; some people are like that.”

“I guess I ruined your evening. You look very pretty.”

“Thank you and you didn’t spoil our evening. This way you
and I get to know each other a little better. How did you do on your Roosevelt
essay last week?”

“Roosevelt essay?” She frowned, her brows furrowing deeply
with confusion. “But I didn’t…” Then she halted, all but bringing her hand up
to cover her mouth.

As her eyes rounded, it was that precise moment when Emma
guessed the truth. She’d fibbed about having a report to do. As the seconds
raced by she watched the varying emotions cross her young face, leaving her
cheeks crimson.

She lowered her eyes with obvious guilt. “Please don’t tell
Dad.”

“Tell him what?” Emma encouraged in a neutral tone, needing
to hear the truth. “What did you do, honey?”

She refused to raise her eyes. “I kind of told a little
white lie. I do have an essay to write but it’s not due until next Wednesday. I
thought if I stayed home then you two could be alone with each other and, and
maybe…” She shrugged her shoulders. “My dad’s crazy about you,” she blurted
out, changing the subject.

This caused Emma’s brows to arch high with surprise.

“Do you like him?”

Emma rose to her feet, afraid their conversation was heading
toward a dangerous topic she wasn’t ready to discuss with Mike’s daughter. “I
don’t think we should be having this…”

“It’s true!”

Melissa grabbed her by the hand to keep her from leaving.

Emma stared at her for a moment, a reluctant smile forming
on her mouth. “How do you know that?”

She gave a small yawn, closing her eyes. “I just know. He’s
been acting all weird lately and, well, I can tell you’re crazy about him too.
Are you mad at me?”

She was crazy about Mike, but Emma wasn’t about to admit it
to Melissa, at least not until Mike knew how she felt about him. Not about to
encourage Melissa to continue, Emma decided to change the subject and
quickly.“Of course not, sweetie. Is there anything else I can get you before I
leave?”

Melissa shook her head without opening her eyes. “No, thank
you.”

As Emma closed Melissa’s door, she couldn’t help wondering
how a thirteen-year-old could make such an astute observation. Most girls her
age were usually so wrapped up in themselves they thought the world revolved
around them.

She was halfway down the stairs when she paused with
pleasant surprise, noticing several things simultaneously. A delicious aroma
drifted up to her, a fire had been lit in the fire-place and the coffee table
in front of it had been set up with two place settings.

“I can’t do anything about the dancing but the least I can
do is replace the dinner you missed.”

Emma turned slightly to see Mike emerging from what she
guessed was the kitchen, carrying a large tray in his hands.

“It smells wonderful,” she said, joining him at the bottom
of the stairs and following him to the living room. “You have a nice home,
Mike. I like the décor. Did you do it all by yourself or did you get some
assistance from that redhead floozy Mrs. Dawson told me about?”

He set the tray down and straightened, his eyes filled with
amusement. “As a matter of fact I did it myself, thank you.” He closed the
distance between them, a look of purpose in his eyes. “And we’re not really
going to have a discussion about Lacy Jones, are we?”

“Lacy Jones?” Emma began to feel slightly nervous, but in a
delicious way, when Mike reached forward. The trailing ends of his tie were
resting on her breasts and his fingers teasingly brushed against them as he
took hold of it.

“The redhead floozy,” he explained, slowly pulling her
toward him. “How’s Melissa?”

“It’s what we both expected. I gave her some Tylenol and the
heating pad. She could hardly keep her eyes open by the time I left.”

He gave a little jerk to his tie, which caused Emma to
stumble against him. “I don’t know why she couldn’t have told me.” He sounded
slightly disappointed.

As her head fell back, she met the growing desire in his
eyes. “It’s a girl thing.” Her sigh became a moan as Mike purposely teased her
sensitive nipples with his knuckles. He lowered his face, causing her to catch
her breath.

“I’m glad you were here to help her.”

“Me too,” she agreed softly.

“And you know what else?”

“Our dinner is going to get cold?” she joked, focusing her
eyes on his mouth. She was hungry and it wasn’t for food. Why didn’t he kiss
her?

His mouth curved upward as though he knew what she was
feeling.

“I want to kiss you.”

His words caused her pulse to throb. “What’s stopping you?”
she whispered, waiting patiently for his mouth to finally touch hers.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t kiss you until the time was
right,” he responded without hesitation.

“And when will that be, Detective?” she asked in a silky
voice.

The look in his eyes turned dark and lazy. “When I can kiss
all of you.”

“Oh.” Emma couldn’t think of anything to say after that. She
was sure the heat enveloping her body had nothing to do with the fire burning
brightly in the hearth. Then her belly rumbled loudly, causing them both to
laugh and relax.

“I think my body’s trying to tell you something.”

Mike took her by the hand, and pulled her with him to sit at
the coffee table. Her eyes rounded with appreciation when he removed the lid of
a silver dish, revealing two perfectly cooked omelets complimented with a side
of what appeared to be homemade applesauce. She watched him uncork a bottle of
wine and pour them each a glass.

In spite of the fact that Melissa was upstairs sleeping
everything was perfect. Furthermore, she found she’d much rather be there with
Mike than on some crowded dance floor somewhere. She smiled when he glanced her
way, and accepted the glass. She took a little sip.

The long look they exchanged was full of heat and promise.
It was just a matter of time before she told Mike how she felt.

They ate in comfortable silence, watching each other.
Several times Mike’s gaze fell to Emma’s mouth as it closed over her fork,
turning the meaningless act into a sensual preliminary of things to come, leaving
the atmosphere charged with unspoken desires.

She wondered what was going through his mind. His expression
was hard to read, his eyes gentle and contemplative. It didn’t take long before
she was feeling excited inside.

“What are you thinking?”

Mike surprised her by asking, reaching for his glass.

“That you’re an excellent chef. That omelet was wonderful.”
She sighed contentedly, skirting around the truth. There was no way she was
going to acknowledge he’d turned her on by simply watching her eat. Dropping
her fork she leaned back against the sofa, placing her hand on her full
stomach.

“And that’s just one of my many talents,” he admitted,
grinning like a lazy wolf with something devious on his mind.

“I can’t wait to see what the others are.” Reaching forward
she scooped a dab of applesauce off her plate, bringing her finger toward her
mouth. Mike’s hand shot out, catching her wrist, halting her in the process.

“Come here.” He effortlessly pulled Emma over until she was
half-lying across his lap, guiding her finger to his mouth at the same time.
Their eyes clashed with mutual awareness as his mouth slowly closed over her
finger, sucking it clean.

“You are talented!” she gasped, feeling her heart race. A
tingling in the lower region of her body signaled her arousal.

Mike leaned back, stretching his legs out in an effort to
get more comfortable while arranging Emma more intimately against him. The
movement caused her short skirt to ride up the back of her legs, but when she
reached to pull it back in place his hand was there to stop her.

She raised questioning eyes to him. His teeth flashed white
against the dimly lit room, the fire dancing wickedly in his aroused eyes.

“Don’t ruin the view,” he chastised, linking his hands
loosely against the back of her waist. “You have very nice legs.”

Chuckling, she relaxed, placing her head against his chest
and snuggling into his warm body. “It’s the stockings.” Emma had long ago
slipped off her heels in favor of comfort.

She caught her breath when Mike trailed his fingertips along
the backs of her thighs, inching closer to the hem of her skirt. She wasn’t
ticklish, but when a finger glided higher, beneath the material, she shivered
with delicious pleasure.

“Ticklish?”

The humor in his tone was evident.

“Not exactly.”

Mike’s fingers roamed higher. “Then why are you shivering?”

Raising her head, she met his heavy-lidded eyes. She didn’t
credit the lazy half-asleep look in them with being tired. “You know why.”

His expression spread into a slow-moving grin of eroticism,
causing her blood to boil.

“Tell me,” he insisted.

His fingers reached the tops of Emma’s stockings where the
garter belt circled her thigh. She felt the change in his body almost
instantly, his reaction proving he was on the same plateau of excitement she
was.

“You’re full of surprises, sweetheart.”

She gasped when his fingers slipped beneath the garter. “You
have Amanda to thank for that. She said stockings are much sexier than
pantyhose.”

“Remind me to send her some flowers tomorrow.”

“You like?” she asked in a smoky voice.

“I like,” he responded hoarsely.

Emma’s soft chuckle rippled through the quiet room as she
returned her head to Mike’s chest. She didn’t protest when he continued his
intimate search, tenderly exploring the softness of her thighs above the
stockings. When his fingers moved ever closer to her bottom she began to
squirm, knowing that if he continued much further he was going to be in for an
even bigger surprise.

“Mike…” Emma wasn’t sure she wanted him to find out like
this. She’d planned on their evening ending much differently than relaxing in
front of the fireplace in his home with his daughter sleeping upstairs. “Mike,
I’m not wearing…” But it was too late.

She heard him suck in his breath, his fingers stilled for a
moment. Emma could only guess what was going through his mind when it dawned on
him that she wasn’t wearing panties. Technically she was; Amanda had also
talked her into buying a lacy thong.

“Woman, are you trying to kill me?”

With every word his hands glided slowly up until his palms
were caressing and squeezing her naked buttocks.