"Fine. Sure." When he caught her chin in his hand, a tug-of-war of pleasure and alarm raged inside her. "We'll talk."
"I'll see you tomorrow, Marilou."
"Oh, yes." Marilou smiled easily while Anna hurriedly gathered her briefcase. "We'll talk, too."
Chapter Fifteen
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anna kept her mouth firmly shut until they were out of the building and safely alone in the parking lot. "Cam, for God's sake."
"For God's sake, what?"
"This is where I work." She stopped at his car, turned to face him. "Where I work, remember? You can't come storming into my office like an outraged lover."
He took her chin in hand again, leaned his face close. "I am an outraged lover, and I want the name of the son of a bitch who put his hands on you."
She wouldn't allow herself to be thrilled by the violence sparking around him. It would be, she reminded herself as her stomach gave a delicious little hop, completely unprofessional.
"The person in question is being dealt with by the proper authorities. And you're not allowed to be a lover, outraged or otherwise, during business hours."
"Yeah? Try and stop me," he challenged and leading with his temper, crushed his mouth to hers.
She wiggled for a moment. Anyone could peek out an office window and see. The kiss was too hot, too heady for a daylight embrace in an office parking lot.
The kiss was also too hot, too heady to resist. She gave in to it, to him, to herself, and wrapped her arms around him. "Will you cut it out?" she said against his mouth.
"No."
"Okay, then, let's take this indoors."
"Good idea." With his mouth still on hers, he reached back to open the car door.
"I can't get in until you let me go."
"Good point." He released her, then surprised her by gently, tenderly brushing his lips over the bruise on her cheek. "Does it hurt?"
Her heart was still flopping. "Maybe a little." She got inside, deliberately reaching for her seat belt, keeping her moves efficient and casual.
"What happened?" he asked as he slid in beside her.
"Abusive father of three, wife beater, didn't care for my testimony in family court today. He shoved me. I had my back turned or he'd have gotten a hard knee to the groin, but as it was I was off balance. Did a nosedive—which would have been embarrassing but for the fact that he's now in lockup and the kids are with their foster family."
"And the wife?"
"I can't help her." Anna let her aching head fall back. "You have to pick your battles."
He said nothing to that. He'd been thinking the same thing. It was why he'd decided to dump three kids on Ethan and come to see her. He'd made up his mind to tell her about the insurance investigation, the speculations about Seth's connection to his father, the search that Phillip had instigated for Seth's mother.
He'd decided to tell her everything, to ask her advice, to get her take. Now he found himself wondering if that was the wisest course—for her, for him, for Seth.
It would wait, he told himself, and rationalized his postponement: she'd had a rough time, needed a little attention.
"So, do you get knocked around much in your line of work?''
"Hmm? No." She laughed a little as he pulled up in front of her building. "Now and again somebody takes a swing or throws something at you, but mostly it's just verbal abuse."
"Fun job."
"It has its moments." She took his hand, walked alongside him. "Did you know that television is the tool of the Communist left?"
"I hadn't heard that."
"I'm here to tell you." She used her key to check her mail slot, gathered letters and bills and a fashion magazine. "Sesame Street is just a front."
"I always suspected that big yellow bird."
"Nah, he's just a shill. The frog's the mastermind." She put her finger to her lips as they approached her door. They snuck in together like kids hooking school. "I just didn't want to have the sisters fussing over me."
"Mind if I do?"
"That depends on your definition of fussing."
"We'll start here." He slipped his arms around her waist, touched his lips to hers.
"I suppose I could tolerate that." She helped him deepen the kiss. "What are you doing here, Cam?"
"I had a lot on my mind." His lips brushed over the bruise again, then lower, to her jawline. "You, mostly. I wanted to see you,
be with you, talk to you. Make love to you."
Her lips curved against his. "All at the same time."
"Why not? I did have this thought about taking you out to dinner… but now I'm thinking maybe we could order pizza."
"Perfect." She said it with a sigh. "Why don't you pour us some wine, and I'll change?"
"There's this other thing." He worked his way over to her ear. "Something I've been wanting to do. I've been wondering what it would be like to get Miz Spinelli out of one of her dedicated-public-servant suits."
"Have you?"
"Since the first time I saw you."
She smiled wickedly. "Now's your chance."
"I was hoping you'd say that." He brought his mouth back to hers, hungrier now, more possessive. This time her sigh caught on a trembling gasp as he jerked her jacket off her shoulders and trapped her arms. "I'm wanting the hell out of you. Day and night."
Her voice was throaty now, dark with need. "I guess that makes it handy, since I want the hell out of you too."
"It doesn't scare you?"
"Nothing about you and me scares me."
"And what if I said I want you to let me do anything I want to you? Everything?"
Her heart fluttered to her throat, but her eyes stayed steady. "I'd say who's stopping you?"
With desire dark and dangerous in his eyes, he skimmed his gaze down, then back to her face. "I wonder what Miz Spinelli wears under these prim little blouses."
"I don't think a man like you is going to let a few buttons keep him from finding out."
"You're right." He shifted his hands from her jacket to the crisply pressed cotton of her blouse. And ripped. He watched her eyes go wide and shocked. And aroused. "If you want me to stop, I will. I won't do anything you don't want."
He'd torn her blouse. And it had thrilled her. He waited, watching, for her to say stop or go. And it thrilled her even more. She understood she hadn't been completely truthful when she'd told him nothing about them scared her. She was afraid of what might be happening to her heart.
But here, in physical love, she knew she could match him.
"I want everything. All."
His blood leaped. Still, he kept his touch light, teasing, running the back of his hand above the slick white material of her demi-cut bra. "Miz Spinelli." He drawled it while his fingers slipped beneath the polished satin to rub against her stiffened nipple. "How much can you take?"
His light tugs had heat spiraling through her system.
Already the air was thick. "I think we're about to find out."
Slowly, his eyes on her face, he backed her against the wall. "Let's start here. Brace yourself," he murmured, and his hand shot under her skirt and tore aside the lacy swatch she wore beneath. Her breath exploded out, and she nearly laughed. Then he plunged his fingers into her, lancing that hard, rough shock of pleasure through her unprepared system. The orgasm ripped through her, emptying her mind, stealing her breath. When her knees gave way, he simply held her against the wall.
"Take more.'' He was desperate to watch her take more, to see the shocked excitement capture her face, to see those gorgeous eyes go wild and blind.
She gripped his shoulders for balance. With her head tipped back he could see the pulse in her throat beat madly and was compelled to taste just there. She moaned against him, moved against him, her breath hitching when he yanked the jacket and what was left of her blouse away.