Trouble (25 page)

That, and making arrangements for a car rental.

“Dara.”

Startled, she looked up from her phone.

Mike was right there, face strained, eyes wide with worry.

For one paralyzed second, they just stared at each other.

Then, with a hoarse cry, Mike reached for her, and they came together with rib-crushing force. His muscular body swallowed her up and she felt instantly protected and safe, as though nothing bad could ever possibly reach her when he had an arm around her waist and his other hand cupped her head to anchor it against his solid chest.

Long seconds passed as they swayed together and she clung to him, listening to the erratic thundering of his heart.

Until the shakes overcame her in some sort of a delayed reaction she couldn't control.

“Shhh,” he murmured, smoothing her hair back from her forehead and cheeks, cooing and offering comfort even though his own body kept shuddering. “You're okay now. And you'd better not ever scare me like that again.
Ever
.”

He pulled back and studied her, his intent face a jumble of dark emotions she'd never seen before.

“Mike?”

He seemed not to hear her. His strong, warm hands stroked her face, and he leaned down and pressed fevered kisses on her forehead and both eyes. Without hesitating, he angled her head back and caught her mouth beneath his.

For half a second she froze.

Until she forgot she'd been angry with him and, whimpering, kissed him back.

Hotly. Deeply. Endlessly.

Mike came to his senses first, releasing her with a couple of lingering nips. But he kept a hand firmly around her waist when he steered her toward Jamal's cubicle, as though he knew how dazed she suddenly was and didn't want to risk her running into the nearest wall.

Slowly coming out of it, she touched a hand to her burning lips.

Then she got mad.

Wait a minute.

Had she really just kissed this SOB? After he'd told her all he wanted was to screw her?

Yeah. Yeah, she had.

Had anything actually changed between them?

No. Nothing whatsoever.

Of course he was worried about her now. Who wouldn't be? She could've been killed. But what about half an hour from now? How long before he pushed her away again?

“I want to see Jamal for a minute,” he informed her. “Then I'm taking you home.”

Frowning, she opened her mouth to argue.

His grip on her tightened as he led her through the curtain and back to Jamal's bedside. “Don't even think about arguing.”

Dara snapped her mouth shut, fuming.

Jamal now sat up in bed, sipping a drink. “What's up, Pops? Your girl here tried to kill me.”

Mike grinned and shook his hand. “Who hasn't?”

“Can I get workers' comp for this?” Jamal asked hopefully. “Dara was driving me home from work.”

“Nope. Sorry.” Mike shot Dara a sidelong glower. “And that's something we need to discuss, since I distinctly remember you promising me you'd never go to Jamal's neighborhood again.”

Uh-oh. She'd been afraid he'd get around to that. A few weeks ago, when she'd discovered Jamal had left an important notebook—which he'd needed for his classes—at the office after one of her tutoring sessions with him, she'd driven by herself to Jamal's sketchy neighborhood at night to deliver it. Neither Jamal nor Mike had been amused. Looking back, it hadn't been one of her brighter moments, but Mike had let her have it with both barrels, carrying on as though she'd strapped a raw steak to her neck and walked naked into the zoo's tiger enclosure.

“Alone,” she said coolly, as if her heart wasn't pounding ten miles a minute. “I said I'd never go there
alone
. And someone needed to take Jamal home.”

“Yeah?” Mike pressed his lips together with grim satisfaction. “Well, now someone needs to take you home. I'm someone. How do you like them apples?”

Dara tried to unlock her apartment door, but some debilitating combination of PTSD and anger at both herself and Mike made her hands fumble with the keys until Mike took them from her. His hands, naturally, were steadier than a neurosurgeon's as he turned the bolt. After holding the door for her, he quickly followed her inside, making it impossible for her to do what she really wanted, which was slam the door in his face.

God
.

How could she have been so stupid back at the hospital?

He was a jerk, but she was clearly an idiot. Who else but an idiot would kiss someone—desperately need someone—mere days after he'd dismissed her in the crudest and cruelest possible way?

He'd hurt her. Bad. Ergo, he was not welcome here and needed to get the hell out of her apartment. Now.

She wheeled around to block him before he made it out of the foyer. “I'm good. Thanks for dropping me off. Bye.”

“Dara,” he said quietly, “I want to talk to you.”

“Now isn't a good time.” She struggled with her quivering lower lip, desperate not to dissolve into tears in front of him again. “I'm really tired and I still need to call my insurance agent—”

He nodded like the soul of understanding, put his hands in his pockets and hung his head as though he hated to disturb her at this delicate juncture. But he didn't budge.

“This can't wait.”

“It'll have to,” she said flatly.

His gaze flickered up to hers. Determined. Sad. Vulnerable.

God, it hurt to look at him.

Dara turned away, every glimpse of those amber eyes a stab of pain deep into the center of her chest, where her heart used to be. If he stuck around any longer, she'd bleed out onto the floor and die.

“Please leave now.” Keeping her gaze lowered and her voice calm, she hung her jacket in the hall closet. “Thank you for bringing me home, but I'm fine. I don't need you, and I really need some time alone.”

Mike, being Mike, didn't give an inch.

“I think I'll stick around and make sure you're okay.”

She laughed a bitter, hysteria-tinged laugh, watching the scene devolve into ugliness as though she were in the audience and some other Dara and Mike were the actors onstage.

“You're going above and beyond the call, don't you think?” Annoyed by her show of emotion—by the way her voice cracked and she couldn't stop her tears from overflowing—she swiped her hand across her wet cheek. “For someone who only wants to sleep with me, I mean.”

He shrank away from her as if she'd waved a loaded gun in his face. “Don't, Dara.”

“Don't what? Remind you of what you said?”

“Stop
.
”

Ah, but she couldn't stop herself now.

That train was already out of the station, streaking toward the sound barrier.

“Why bother to talk, anyway? My internship ends pretty soon, and you can go ahead and forget all about me, like you plan to do, right?” She took an aggressive step closer, getting in his face.
“Right?”

Without warning, Mike slammed his hand on the hall table, making her jump and the basket of keys wobble dangerously.

“Damn it, Dara!” he shouted, his features twisted and rough, his anger swelling wall-to-wall in the tiny foyer, threatening to crowd her out. “What do you want?”

His rage thrilled her. She was so sick of his aloofness and his pretending, so sick of the indifferent mask he wore with her. She wanted him enraged.

“I want you to tell me the truth, you lying SOB! You tell me the truth, or you get out!”

“The truth?” he thundered. “Which truth? That I can't eat? Can't sleep? Can hardly work? That I haven't been able to think about one goddamn thing other than you since the second I laid eyes on you? That truth? That I care about you and want you and my brother can go fuck himself for all I care? Is
that
what you want to hear?”

Dara's body sagged with relief and she felt happy—happier than she'd ever been in her life. He cared for her. He'd admitted it. There was no going back after this.

Taking a deep breath, he swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Then he stepped closer, eyes gleaming.

She stilled, all the air whooshing out of her lungs.

“What about this, Dara?”

His voice dropped to a mesmerizing murmur as he bent his head to speak in her ear. At the warm brush of his breath against her cheek, her entire body tightened with need.

“I crave you. Did you know that? Like air.” He shrugged helplessly, his lips working at a rueful smile that never quite took hold. “I'd rather have you than the air. I'd rather have you than be an honorable boss. I'd rather have you than be a good brother or son.”

“Mike—” she began, reaching for him.

He jerked away, his expression hardening. “Do you know how scared I was tonight, when I thought something had happened to you? You control every fucking thing about me! Do you get that? Do you think that's easy to get a handle on?”

Dara stared at him in utter disbelief.

She
controlled—?

“Bullshit,” she said quietly.

His brows lowered. “Excuse me?”

“Bullshit! Did I look like I was in control the other day when you broke my heart for no good reason?”

He froze, having the decency to look ashamed.

“I wasn't ready for this, Dara,” he said hoarsely.

So there it was again. Another day, another kiss-off. God, he was going to kill her.

She looked down at the floor and pressed her hand over her mouth until she'd collected herself enough to speak without sobbing.

Finally, she looked back up at him. “Neither was I. I was willing to try, anyway, but I can't do it by myself. So now I guess there's nothing else to talk about.”

“Nothing except this.” A vivid flush crept up his neck and over his harsh cheekbones. “I can't live like this anymore. When I thought something happened to you tonight, I—” he broke off, shuddering, nostrils flaring. “We can't let this go. We have to try.”

Astonished, she stared at him and saw the vulnerability and hope in his eyes and felt an answering hope—joyous and beautiful—unfurl in her chest.

“What are we going to do about this, Mike?”

He stretched out a hand to her, beckoning. “Take a chance with me, angel.”

Mesmerized, lost, and hopelessly in love, Dara stepped forward into his arms.

They came together in a tightly wound tangle of arms and legs, like English ivy climbing an oak tree. Mike caught her sweet mouth beneath his, and she eagerly opened for him, his own June rose in full blossom. His hunger—his gnawing need for her—roared to life, making his arousal sudden and complete, especially when she whimpered, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. And suddenly, whatever self-control he'd had—if he'd had any left at all— shattered.

Without breaking the kiss, he backed her out of the lighted foyer and into the dark living room, where he navigated blindly until she tumbled backward onto the sofa and pulled him down, too. He tightened his hold and shifted his weight on top of her. Instantly, her legs wrapped around his waist, surprising him with her strength and insistence. His hands found her bare knees—she was wearing that black knit dress that always melted his brain—and slid up her thighs, pressing closer to her yielding softness.

But not close enough.

“More,” Dara whispered, rocking her hips against his.

Yes, more.

His lips slid down her neck and her back arched up to meet him. His shaky fingers found the bottom edge of her dress and pulled it up over her head, with Dara wriggling her hips to help him. Just as quickly, he undid the clasp of her lacy bra.

When he was done, he faltered for a second, his breath harsh in the silence, studying her in the moonlight. She was exquisite. Her heaving breasts were two perfect globes centered with large nipples—dark and erect—that demanded his attention.