Blackjack and Moonlight: A Contemporary Romance Page 7

  That meant he’d better be prepared to run through the cases on his docket to keep his emotions in check. And wasn’t that the most depressing resolve? It was even having a deleterious effect on his desire.

  Jack could just see Elise’s house on the next block. He looked at his watch—still too early. He walked over to a park bench in Fitler Square, near a bronze sculpture of three turtles. He was nervous. It felt a bit like those first few days as a judge, when he’d expected someone to leap up and declare the Senate confirmation had been revoked on the basis of Jack’s incompetence.

  These anxieties happened with new jobs. Once he found his groove, he’d be okay. He’d worked through it as a prosecutor, then as the US Attorney, and he could do it now as a judge. His nerves around Elise were worse. At least with his career, he had some experience. This was the first time he intended to court a woman with marriage as his goal.

  The bronze turtle statues were cute. An adult and two babies. Babies. The issue of children had been lurking at the back of his mind for days. He’d waited so long to fall in love, he really couldn’t expect it to happen again anytime soon. Therefore, Elise Carroll would be the mother of any children he had. If she said no, he’d never marry—or he’d marry so late that children would no longer be an option. Who wanted to be the geriatric dad at the playground?

  He leaned back on the bench. Never marry? That was just sad. He’d always assumed he’d marry. Someday. He simply hadn’t met the right woman, or even a woman close enough to right to consider the option of marriage. Now he’d met her—the one woman in his future—and she was indifferent to him. In theory he’d survive Elise’s rejection and maybe have better luck the next time. Realistically? Without her, a solitary future stretched out like an abandoned road to a distant horizon. Jack would end up the bachelor on the bench, a lesser version of Justice Souter. Well, there were far worse role models.

  He took a deep breath and looked over at Elise’s house, its windows glowing in the twilight. He wanted to share that warmth with her. He wanted to protect her, enchant her as she enchanted him. For tonight, he’d have to settle for pleasing her in bed.

  Coughing uncontrollably, Elise yanked open the front door. What an idiot. Everything had been perfect until she’d gotten the brilliant idea of making a fire, then couldn’t remember which way the flue worked. Now she had a living room full of smoke and maybe ten minutes before that man arrived. He’d laugh at her, or worse. She hated him, she really did. Their whole agreement was a huge mistake. If it weren’t that she was extremely horny and oh, yeah, that she didn’t know his cell phone number, she’d call and cancel. With her hacking cough, she’d have no trouble convincing him that she really was sick.

  Her spasms subsided gradually. Time to go back in and figure out how to clear the smoke. A movement across the street caught her eye.

  Shit. He was at the edge of the park, looking right at her. Elise squelched the impulse to dash back into the house. Keep your head up, show no fear. She walked over to meet him.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Of course not.” She managed to laugh before coughing again. “Overreaching—that’s my fatal flaw. I thought it would be nice to have a fire, but my enthusiasm got ahead of my common sense. One stuck flue later and voilà,” she said, turning to gesture at the smoky front hall.

  “Did you get the flue open?”

  “Yes, eventually. And the smoke alarm turned off. I even managed to make the fire burn properly. But the house is filled with smoke. So unsexy.”

  He surprised her by putting his arm around her shoulder and hugging her swiftly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I love a damsel in distress. Let me help.”

  “Boy Scout,” she muttered, relieved by his matter-of-fact approach. She let him lead her back to the house. She’d opened the French doors to her tiny garden, and the cross-ventilation did a lot of good, although it now seemed as chilly inside as out. She closed the French doors and the window in the kitchen while he poked at the fire. By the time she got back to the living room, he’d managed some lively flames. She could even feel heat.

  “Thanks. Would you like some wine?” she offered.

  He put his hand on his heart. “You got wine just for me?” he teased. “I’m honored. Red, if you’ve got it.”

  Elise looked at him. Blackjack McIntyre was in her house. Her distinctly smoky and chilly house. She’d thought several times that he wouldn’t show up. But he was here. And lord he looked good. Suede jacket over a sweater over a button-down shirt, dress slacks and loafers. Her eyes traveled back to his face. He was amused.

  “Forgive me for being a bad hostess, but…” Elise murmured. She reached up and kissed him. A sexy kiss, and when her lips parted his, an even sexier kiss. Oh, yes, the judge was in the house.

  She settled back on her heels, reluctantly removing her arms from around his neck. She was lost in his eyes, gleaming with desire and amusement. “Wine. Red. Got it.”

  When Elise returned, she joined him on the sofa across from the fire. He’d taken off the jacket and seemed calm and relaxed. He studied the flames, but turned to smile at her as she handed him the glass. She was still nervous. She’d poured them both some of the Shiraz she’d bought. She hoped it was good. The guy at the wine store had said it would do for an intimate evening at home.

  He swirled the wine around, sniffed, then took a sip.

  “Are you a big-time wine connoisseur?” She felt awkward about her own ignorance.

  “This is very good wine,” he said gently.

  “I wouldn’t know. I once bought a bottle of wine because the description on the label made it sound like the grapes had a really tough, hardscrabble life. I still had to rely on my boyfr—a guest’s assurance that it was any good.”

  “I’m beginning to see why you pooh-pooh five-star restaurants.”

  “I like to eat but I don’t like all the fuss. Food is food, it seems to me.” Elise could hear the defensiveness in her voice, but she wasn’t trying to impress the guy, so why not be honest?

  They sat in silence for a while. The fire was gradually thawing her out. She stretched out her feet.

  “I guess it was a good thing I didn’t try to greet you in some barely-there lingerie, huh?” she said finally.

  He laughed, a quiet rumble at her side. “Goose bumps aren’t very sexy, no.”

  Elise thought for a minute. Time to get the sex date rolling. “I am wearing a new bra and panty set, though. You get a prize if you can guess what color lace.”

  She turned her head to meet his gaze. Yup, he was interested. She took his wineglass and put it on the coffee table next to hers. She shifted over to straddle his hips and rested back on his knees.

  His eyes were hotter than the fire. “What’s the prize?”

  “I don’t know. What would you like to win from me?” She toyed with the hair at his nape, which was maybe two weeks away from being ruthlessly hacked off. Could she get him to let his hair grow? She liked the black silkiness against her fingertips.

  “Two romantic dates in a row? Friday and Saturday, say?” His eyes gleamed.

  She thought about that. What was the harm? He’d never guess. “Okay.”

  “I have to feel the lace to be sure, you know—tactile color identification methods have come a long way in the FBI labs.”

  She laughed at his solemn tone. “Oh, have they?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” He slipped his hands under her top at the back, where it overlapped her jeans. One hand inched up to the back of the bra, the other slipped into the gap by her backbone. The panties were hipsters, selected because they did super-sexy things for her ass. He skimmed the lace trim on the top of the panties, then moved both hands up her back.

  “A warm color.” He kept his eyes on her face the entire time. It occurred to her that he was doing a cold read, saying things then watching for her reaction, the way phony fortune-tellers did. She tried to block him by imagining the other set of undies she’d boug
ht but hadn’t worn. They were pale shell pink. She concentrated on them.

  “In the red or pink family.” His hands had moved around to the front of her bra. He was brushing his fingertips over the lacy cups. His thumbs strummed her aching nipples, then he trapped them against his palms. That felt amazingly good. She half closed her eyes and arched her back, pushing her breasts harder into his touch.

  The hell with his guessing the color. Elise struggled to keep her eyes on his to make sure he didn’t peek. She throbbed all over and if they didn’t start shedding clothes soon, she’d go insane.

  Still she had to needle him. “Interesting techniques the FBI are using these days.” She sucked in her breath when he did something exquisite with his fingertips. She heard her breathing as though it were coming from far away, a soft pant.

  “Aren’t they?” he agreed calmly. He punished her sarcasm by pulling her breasts out of their cups. His palms were hot and smooth on her flesh. She was ready for him to do more. She needed those hands lower down. Now.

  “Damn you, just guess,” she hissed. “Because in thirty seconds I’m taking this top off no matter what.”

  “What?” His focus had gone soft and he sounded distracted.

  Join the club. She bit back a moan. She shifted on his lap, but it was no good. She couldn’t get the friction she needed.

  “Oh, right. Color. Lace. Um, they’re cherry red.” His focus was back and his gaze burned into hers.

  Elise honestly couldn’t remember the question. She just knew his answer meant she could start getting undressed. She whipped off her top and reached back to unfasten the bra. When Jack flashed a particularly wolfish smile at her, she looked down. Yup, cherry red. How had he known? Oh, who cared.

  “Congratulations,” she said. “Can we get naked now?”

  “I thought you’d never suggest it.”

  Jack shifted forward to take off his sweater, but she stopped him.

  “I’ve been waiting two long weeks to unwrap my present.” She stood long enough to shimmy out of her jeans, then straddled him again. She peeled off his sweater and reached for the shirt buttons.

  “I like these,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “The panties. I didn’t really get to see the bra, but these are cute. Stand up. I want to see the back.”

  She still had several buttons to undo to uncover his chest. “You’re kidding, right?” She looked into his eyes.

  Those eyes. Blazing hot and so not kidding. Elise froze for a heartbeat, a pulse of desire.

  She stood up slowly and turned around. When she faced him again, he was smiling a very Cheshire-cat smile. It made her suspicious.

  “What?” she demanded. That reminded her. “How did you know what color they were, anyway?”

  “Same color as your silk robe.” His hands cupped her ass, tugging her toward him. “It’s your color. Makes your skin look like warm velvet, your eyes particularly beautiful, and now I know it matches your nipples when they’re really hard. It’s our first sex date—of course you’d wear your best color.”

  “Deduction, huh? That’s dirty pool, buster.” She tried to sound annoyed, but he was already kissing her breasts and she couldn’t manage real outrage. That moan—the one she’d been holding in for so long—escaped. His tongue worked on her nipples, licking, soothing, flicking. She bent her head to nuzzle his hair, which was soft and smelled divine.

  Wait—she’d been interrupted. She’d been doing something important. What was it again? Oh, right, his shirt. But she couldn’t reach all the buttons. She rubbed her cheek against his shiny black hair.

  “I love your hair,” she whispered. Then she realized what she’d said. She’d used the L-word.

  She felt him freeze for a second, then he went back to sucking her breasts.

  “It’s just a figure of speech,” she blurted.

  He pulled away to look at her. She could feel the cool air on her nipples, wet from his mouth. She felt as startled as he looked.

  She grinned at him to cover her confusion. “Thank you. Now, about that shirt.”

  Good save. She got busy unbuttoning.

  He was a fool, Jack realized. Just the mention of the word “love” got his attention. And she knew it.

  She was an impressive adversary. Which was an odd thing to think about a woman he both loved and desired to his core.

  “You know, if you’d practiced criminal law, we might have met years ago,” he said as she fiddled with the buttons on his cuffs. “I wish we had.”

  “So we could’ve had sex that much sooner? Trust me, I’m going as fast as I can.”

  He admired the sleek curve of her silver hair. “No. I was thinking how much fun it would have been to oppose you in court.”

  She’d gotten his shirt off and was now kneeling to slip off his shoes and socks. Her bright eyes glanced up, then went back to her task. As she reached for his belt, he said, “Of course, I’d have been hard as a rock every time I saw you, but it would have been worth it.”

  He loved the sound of her laugh. She tugged his belt from his trousers and was working on his fly. He wasn’t kidding—he’d never been this hard. It was the sweetest pain when she reached into his boxers.

  “This hard? In court? Really, Jack? It kind of makes me wonder what was going on underneath that robe during the Everton hearing.”

  Her bright head, with its moonlight hair, dipped down so she could kiss his cock, licking the underside of the rim. It felt great—she knew what to do—but Jack wasn’t enjoying it quite as he should. Something about having her on her knees bothered him.

  “Elise.”

  She licked harder. God, that was good.

  He ran his fingers through her hair. “Elise,” he said more firmly. It felt glorious, of course it did, but it didn’t feel right.

  He tugged gently on her head.

  “What?” she demanded. “I was just getting to the good part.”

  He had to push her out of the way a bit, but he managed to get down on the floor with her. “Elise. I have people sucking up to me every day in court. Even with you, it isn’t quite the erotic rush you might think.” He kissed her sweet lips to stop her pouting.

  “Oh.” She digested this. “Okay. But your appellate court down here might want to review that ruling.” She stroked his length and cupped his balls at the same time.

  “You are incorrigible.” He kissed her thoroughly. When he stopped, she looked dazed.

  “Bedroom. We need the bedroom,” she said finally.

  “I concur. You lead, I’ll follow. I want to keep looking at your ass. I like the way it looks in those panties.”

  She chuckled. “Right? I picked them precisely for that reason.” Her hips swayed a little as she headed for the stairs.

  Her bedroom was at the back of the house. She’d drawn the curtains already, a wise precaution considering how few clothes they were wearing. She’d also pulled the covers nearly off the bed, leaving a wide expanse of crisp white sheet.

  He paused in the doorway. “I have a confession. After our negotiation I was so crazed that I walked five blocks before I realized I’d left my car behind. When I came back, it was all I could do not to storm in, throw you over my shoulder and carry you up here.”

  Elise turned to face him. “Why didn’t you? You had to know that’s what I wanted you to do.”

  “Honestly? I can’t remember why I didn’t. It can’t have been a very good reason.”

  “Your Honor is right, as usual.” Her smile mocked him.

  “I’m going to need a thesaurus to find all the synonyms for ‘minx,’ aren’t I?”

  “Vixen,” she volunteered. She took his hand, but just stood there, looking at him. “My turn to confess. Ever since our negotiation, I’ve had a hard time imagining you without thinking what you’d look like naked.”

  That trick women did, where they had their heads down but were looking up? Very sexy. “Imp,” he said.

  “C’mon, Jack, lemme see.
” She stripped off her panties, revealing the most delicious pale brown curls.

  He shoved his boxers down. “For better or worse, here’s what’s underneath that damned robe.”

  Her eyes got very big. “Jack, please tell me I’m the first woman to have sex with the Honorable Judge McIntyre.”

  “You will be once you get that adorable ass over there.”

  “Yes, Judge.” She nearly leapt onto the bed, rolling onto her side and ending on one elbow, grinning at him.

  He shook his head in despair at her irreverence. “If I don’t make it out of here alive, my sister’s number’s programmed into my cell phone. Stacy Pembroke. Call her, will you? Let her know I died happy.”

  “Silly man.”

  “Keeping your mouth occupied may be the only way to stop you mocking me.” He arched an eyebrow as he joined her on the bed. She just laughed.

  Jack pushed her onto her back and straddled her hips. Her eyes narrowed and her eyebrows flexed just a bit. He could tell she was thinking of something smart to say, so he kissed her. And kissed her, and kissed her some more. He kissed her cheek, her chin, the soft skin of her neck, the ridge of her collarbone, those gorgeous breasts—he focused a lot of attention on them—all the way down to those cute pale curls. There he discovered she could be driven so far down the road to distraction that the only sounds she made were breathy little moans and gasps.

  He ached to be inside her, but shutting her up was almost as satisfying. Almost.

  He brought her to an orgasm with his tongue, lips, and a couple of well-placed fingers. He knew when she was getting close because she reached up to pinch her own nipples. Nearly caused him to come on the spot, seeing her going for what she wanted. What a woman—she was so different, so dynamic, she made him feel like he’d never made love before. This was his first time. His first breathtaking, nerve-rattling, head-exploding time.