Hot and Heavy (Some Like It Hot 2)

He wasn’t sure she believed him, though it was the absolute truth. Since his last affair months ago, no opportunity had arisen to make him rush out and buy a box of prophylactics. Now he was grateful he didn’t have any on hand, because it was the only thing keeping him from making a huge mistake with Melodie.

Squeezing him in her fist, she leaned forward and dragged her tongue from his collarbone up to his ear, and whispered, “Then why don’t you let me pleasure you?”

His hips bucked in reaction, sliding his erection along her snug grip, and he swore as he nearly came right then. This time he pulled her hand completely away, then lifted her from his lap and set her back on one of the other seats. “You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered. And this growing obsession with her had to stop.

“Why is that such a bad thing?” she asked quietly.

“Because…” He plowed his fingers through his hair, dampening the strands. “Because I can’t give you what you need.” There, he’d said the words, blunt and to the point.

Wicked amusement danced in her eyes. “I think you just did.”

He shook his head at her frank and sexual reply, still amazed that his secretary had metamorphosed into such a bold vixen. It was obvious she wasn’t giving up on her pursuit, which made him more determined to be brutally honest with her.

“Physically, yes, I gave you what you needed, but emotionally I can’t. I don’t want entanglements or anything complicated, Mel. With anyone.” And especially her. He wouldn’t jeopardize his bachelor status or his relationship with her father for a hot night of sex with her.

She dipped lower into the whirlpool, until the water lapped over her bare shoulders. “To my recollection, I haven’t asked for either, just a chance to accompany you to the charity auction for the Russell case.”

He hardened his resolve and narrowed his gaze at her. “What happened tonight won’t change my mind about that.”

She touched her tongue to her upper lip, damp with beads of perspiration from the heat of the water, then sighed. “Then I guess I haven’t been trying hard enough.”

“Hard” definitely seemed to be a fitting choice of word for the evening, considering his body wasn’t even close to settling down. And to think that she was intent on continuing this seduction of hers was enough to keep him permanently aroused. He felt as though he was sitting in a cauldron of boiling water, ready to explode, and this conversation with Melodie wasn’t helping.

Without further argument, he climbed out of the hot tub, giving her a brief glimpse of his naked ass before he dove into the adjoining pool. The startling impact of the cold water rushing along his overheated skin was just what he needed to put things back into proper perspective. Unfortunately, nothing could tame his raging hormones and the undeniable need he’d developed for Melodie Turner.

Damn her anyway, for turning his orderly world upside down.

He executed a dozen laps across the pool without stopping, releasing as much tension as possible and pushing himself to the brink of physical exhaustion. When he finally came up for more than a single breath of air, he noticed Melodie was no longer in the hot tub.

She was gone, just as he wanted.

So why did he feel so damned disappointed to find himself alone once again?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Cole strolled into Murphy’s Bar and Grill after work Thursday evening and scanned the patrons sitting at the tables in the lounge area. He searched for a certain brown-haired man while nodding hellos to acquaintances and lifting a friendly hand to the owner of the restaurant, who was making drinks for the crowd.

“What’ll it be, Sommers?” Murphy called from his position behind the mahogany-and-brass bar, which gleamed from nightly polishing. “The usual?”

“That would be great, Murph.” Cole glanced around once more, didn’t see who he was looking for, and berated himself for arriving late when he’d had every intention of showing up early. He returned his attention to the owner. “Have you seen Richard Turner by any chance? I was supposed to meet him here at seven.” And much to his chagrin, it was nearly twenty-five after.

“Yep. I saw him walking toward the john.” The older man hooked a finger down the hallway leading to the bathrooms as he placed a drink at the end of the bar for the waitress to pick up. “He’s sitting at that corner booth in the back with the empty martini glass on it. I’ll send over a refill for him, too.”

“Thanks.” Cole headed in the direction of the table, the path through the lounge a very familiar one, as were the distinct sounds of customers playing pool and darts and generally having a good time.

Ever since Cole had turned twenty-one, he’d adopted his father’s watering hole as his own hangout, mainly because he knew the regular patrons at Murphy’s, most of whom had been friends or colleagues of his father’s from his days as a cop. Murphy’s was also an unpretentious, blue-collar establishment where he could escape to and relax after a long day at the office.

Tonight he was undoubtedly tense, and he was positive no amount of alcohol could ease the knot in his stomach and the muscles bunched tight across his shoulders. Not when Melodie’s father had called him at the office to request that Cole meet him at Murphy’s for a drink because he had something important to talk to him about.

Talk about what, exactly, Cole had no idea, though he’d spent the better part of the afternoon worrying and wondering. Richard had sounded troubled on the phone, enough so to make Cole a bit nervous about what was on the other man’s mind that concerned him.

With a deep exhale that did nothing to ease the pressure in his chest, he slid onto the seat and settled himself in the booth to wait for Richard’s return. Self-reproach had hung over him like a black cloud since the night with Mel in the hot tub, allowing him no peace of mind. While he’d managed to keep things between himself and Melodie strictly businesslike for the past two days, he suddenly felt as though every one of the sinful and erotic deeds he’d indulged in with Mel was stamped on his forehead for her father to see.

“Here’s your beer,” a soft, feminine voice said, a welcome interruption to his agonizing thoughts. With a friendly, tentative smile, the bar waitress set a glass of tap on the table in front of him, along with his favorite snack. “And Murphy said you always like a bowl of roasted peanuts to go with it.”

“Yeah, I do.” He grinned easily in return, noticing like every other guy in the place that the blond-haired, blue-eyed angel owned a body straight out of the centerfold of a magazine. She wore the requisite bar uniform of jeans and a kelly-green T-shirt with Murphy’s Bar and Grill emblazoned across her well-endowed chest.

Despite her obvious attributes, she did nothing to spark his interest. No, it seemed he was hooked on a certain brown-eyed brunette who was all wrong for him.