Killer Countdown (Man on a Mission 6)

She still hadn’t heard a word from Shane by the time she left work. So she went home and dressed for their upcoming date as if she were facing a firing squad. She tossed aside a “little black dress” she loved in favor of a killer red, practically backless one whose hem floated several inches above her knees. Men prefer red, she reminded herself feverishly. She didn’t go overboard with makeup, but she remembered the expression in Shane’s eyes when he’d seen her last night, and did pretty much the same with her eyes and lips. She couldn’t do her own hair the way Maggie had, so she brushed it until it crackled and coiled it into a simple chignon at the nape of her neck. Classic and elegant.

Dangly ruby and diamond earrings she’d inherited from her mother—and which she cherished more for that reason than their obvious beauty—completed her ensemble. She left her throat bare. Someday she’d have to worry about the signs of age every woman eventually fretted over, but that day—thank God!—had not yet arrived.

She lightly touched the pulse points on her wrists and behind her ears with her favorite gardenia-scented perfume, hesitated, then dabbed it between her breasts. Then she looked at herself in the full-length mirror.

Carly knew she was quietly beautiful—if your preference was for dark-haired women and not blondes. But for the first time since Jack, she wanted to be especially beautiful for a man. For Shane.

The doorbell rang and she jumped. Don’t let him be upset, she prayed silently. Not for herself, but for him. Because it had suddenly become unbelievably important that she not hurt him. She grabbed the little clutch purse she’d already prepared, and hurried down the stairs.

* * *

When the door swung open Shane started to speak, but the breath left his lungs at the sight of Carly in red, and he had to remind himself to breathe. Last night, in her sparkly blue evening dress that matched her eyes, she’d been regal and radiant. Tonight, she was stunning.

When their eyes met he said huskily, “There are no words, Carly.”

He hadn’t realized she’d been anxiously awaiting his approbation until the anxiety was banished, replaced with a smile that made him want to forget dinner, walk her backward into her town house, and make love to her on the first surface he found. Which he couldn’t do, of course. But he wanted to.

“Come on in while I get my coat,” Carly said with a little catch in her voice.

Shane didn’t trust himself inside. “I’ll wait out here.”

She shook her head, took his arm, and drew him into the house, closing the door behind him. “That’s ridiculous. Forgetting the fact that it’s cold outside, you’d make a terrific target standing under the porch light. A ten-year-old boy could take you down, much less an experienced marksman.”

She turned toward the closet as she was speaking, and that’s when Shane saw the back of her dress. Or rather, what wasn’t there. And before he knew it, he’d spoken her name in a voice that couldn’t hide his desperate need.

She froze for a second, then faced him. And the invitation in her eyes was unmistakable. “I’m not really hungry,” she whispered. “Except...” She caught her breath, then let it out, the faintest tremor running through her body. “For you, Shane,” she finished on a rush. “Except for you.”

He closed his eyes, then opened them again. And suddenly Carly was in his arms, her lips locked on to his. A rushing sound filled his ears, and he realized it was his blood coursing through his veins as his heart pounded furiously. He let Carly go only long enough to fight out of his overcoat and jacket, dropping them unheeded on the floor. Then his arms closed around her again.

Shane retained just enough sanity to know he couldn’t take Carly right there on the floor in the foyer...or on the staircase...or bent over the arm of the sofa in the living room. But he honest to God didn’t know if he could make it to the bedroom.

He slid his hands beneath her skirt and up. Up over silky thighs, until he grasped her hips and lifted, pulling her flush against the hardness of his erection. “Hold on tight,” he whispered, and she wrapped her legs around his hips and rocked against him, moaning a little, her hands frantically clutching his shoulders for purchase.