Take Me Tender Read online

  Nikki shrugged. Most of the dress was a delicately knitted tube of a lightweight, seafoam-colored yarn. She’d had to step into it and shimmy the garment up the length of her body, then dip her head to slip the keyhole in front over her neck. It was halter-style, but the keyhole dipped halfway down to her belly button. A string running beneath the blue-and-seafoam crocheted cups that were the bodice tied at the center of her body, leaving plenty of exposed skin above, below, and between them.

  On Cassandra, with her more generous breasts, the dress would present a wealth of naked flesh. With Nikki’s more modest cleavage—well, she felt plenty bare, thank you very much.

  Jay reached the step below hers, leaving them eye to eye. But it wasn’t her face he was surveying. “Christ,” he said again. “You’re not actually wearing that dress, you’re drizzled in it.”

  Drizzled. There was a word that fit. With Jay’s focus on her, with the heat of his body so close, everything inside her melted. Her hand tightened on the banister and she hoped he couldn’t see beneath all that naked skin to the way her blood was moving like heavy sugar syrup through her veins.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, as he put a finger beneath her chin to nudge it higher.

  “Those amazing eyes of yours,” he said, gazing at them now. “When I look into them I don’t know whether I’m going to sink or fly.”

  Oh, God. Everything female inside of her went more liquid, even as she tried to move her mouth into a sneer. “Does that line work well with the hetero chicks?” I don’t know whether I’m going to sink or fly. As it echoed in her head, both of her knees felt weak. “Because it seems just short of ‘What’s your sign?’ to me.”

  “Shut up, cookie.” His head drew nearer. He was wearing a subtle, spicy scent that seemed to drug her with each inhalation.

  She closed her eyes as if that would keep him away. “Jay—”

  “Just shut up,” he said against her mouth.

  It was that first, movie-theater type of kiss all over again, tender and warm. She could have resisted aggression or turned her cheek to blatant seduction, but this was something else altogether. This was a timeless, all-the-hours-in the-world kind of mouth to mouth that lured instead of demanded, that showed more patience than outright passion.

  The melt happened all over her, all over again. Her lips softened against his and he licked across her bottom one, then tugged it gently with the edges of his teeth. She shivered, and his palms closed over her wrists then slid to her shoulders and drew her against him.

  Her mouth parted—for air? to protest? to plea?—but he didn’t give her time for any of that before he slid his tongue inside. At the silky touch she shivered again, and liquid warmth rushed between her thighs.

  He slid one large, heavy hand to the small of her back, and heat prickled across her flesh. His mouth tilted to adjust the fit of their lips even as his tongue circled hers, dizzying her with desire.

  More vertigo made her head spin when he retreated from the kiss, only to draw his lips along the edge of her jaw. She swayed closer, and then she froze as she felt his fingertips graze the bare skin of her midsection that was left naked by the deep keyhole of the dress. At the slight stroke, her nipples tightened in an aching rush that was mirrored by another wave of wetness between her legs.

  Her instant response made her giddy with both embarrassment and excitement. She shouldn’t react to him for so many good reasons…but right now she couldn’t remember what any of them were.

  Her head fell back as he continued to explore her neck and shivers had her body quaking inside and out. Oh, God. Arousal had never been like this before, this quick, this intense, this uncontrollable, not when she was drunk on sadness and vodka at fifteen, and certainly not on the rare occasions since, when she’d forced normalcy on herself and taken a man to bed.

  With her goose bumps leading the way, Jay’s drifting hand trailed upward, tripping over the narrow string that kept the cups of the bodice from springing outward. His mouth moved back to hers as he twisted one forefinger in the crocheted string. He thrust his tongue between her lips, sure and hot, and at the same time he tugged on the cord, pulling together her breasts as if they’d been palmed by unseen hands.

  With a gasp, she broke their kiss. “Jay.”

  He tugged again, his mouth wet against the side of her neck, and she moaned. Jay stilled, then gently freed his finger from the string.

  “Nikki. We need to talk a minute.” His hands cupped her shoulders and squeezed. “Look, you’ve gotta see…You’ve gotta realize this isn’t going to work.”

  Her lashes shot up as panic dashed over her like icy water. What? What did he mean? This had to work. She didn’t have another employment prospect, she had a pile of bills, and this job was supposed to tide her over as well as provide her with new contacts.

  But he’d taken her on, assuming her sexual interest was girls, and that fact would keep his kitchen uncomplicated. Now, though, she’d messed that up by making out with him.

  Taking a hasty step back, she wiped away his stupid, drugging kiss with the back of her hand. It was all his fault. He was too good—too golden, too tender, too subtle and sneaky where most men were in-your-face and blatantly aggressive.

  Below, the front door swung open. Fern ambled in, her gaze traveling upward to find the two of them at the top of the stairs. Jay turned toward his cousin, his expression as casual as if they’d been interrupted discussing desserts. “Hey, there.”

  “Hey.” The teenager looked at them a moment longer. “Nice dress,” she told Nikki.

  She managed a smile for Fern, using the moment to gather herself together. “Thanks, I’m wearing it to a restaurant opening.” A couple of kisses weren’t going to ruin what she had going here, she promised herself. All was not lost—at least not yet. “And we’d better leave or we’ll be late.”

  Without looking at the man, she breezed past Jay. “Let’s go, Sonny.”

  He followed, she knew, because his question came from a step behind her. “Sonny?”

  She threw him a look over her bare shoulder. “That’s who you’re going as, right? I figured from the looks of you we’re both acting tonight. I’m playing straight, and you’re Sonny Crockett from Miami Vice.”

  He did have a sort of Don-Johnson-in-the-eighties vibe, and she couldn’t tell from his expression whether the comparison amused or annoyed him.

  She kept on talking. “So how’d I do with that, um, kiss? I tried to make it work by closing my eyes and thinking of a beautiful woman. Are we two partners going to make it through tonight’s undercover assignment with flying colors? Did I pass your test?”

  She held her breath as he pulled the front door open for her. “You aced the thing,” he said, his voice dry. “Just don’t tell Tubbs I said so. That dude has a jealous streak wider than the wake of the cigar boat we used to ride around in.”

  Jay blamed the damn dress. If Nikki’s body hadn’t been wrapped in an ocean-colored garment that was as tight to her skin as a mermaid’s scales, then he wouldn’t have to glue himself into a corner of the restaurant’s glassed-in, ocean-view deck in order to keep his hands to himself.

  He’d decided to go to the damn party to satisfy his curiosity about her and now he was at the party and reluctant to get within ten feet of her. She was that bewitching.

  How in hell had she gotten so far under his skin so fast? The kisses on the stairs had rattled him, and her bullshit response to it—I tried to make it work by closing my eyes and thinking of a beautiful woman—only pissed him off. Instead of being honest enough to acknowledge they rattled her, too, she’d tried instead to prick his ego.

  Okay, she had pricked his ego. The mind-blowing little episode had left him edgy and angry while she appeared perfectly calm and self-contained as she inspected the food offerings set out on long banquet tables.

  The air around him shifted, but he didn’t look away from Nikki.

  “Hi, Jay. How are you?”

  It w
as, perhaps, the only voice that could break his concentration. Cassandra’s voice. He turned toward her, narrowing his eyes. “You,” he said. “You should know that dress needs to come with a warning label.”

  Cassandra had the innocent eyelash flutter down pat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He took her by the arm to face her in the right direction. “Just look what you’ve done to my chef.”

  Across the deck, Nikki brushed her sun-streaked waves of hair over her sleek, bare shoulder. He’d had that smooth skin in his hands, cupped it in his palms, and Christ, he wanted that again. He wanted to caress her skin and suck on her nipples and bury his fingers palm-deep in the creamy center of her body.

  “She looks like she should be lying on a treacherous rock somewhere singing siren songs to sailors,” he muttered.

  Cassandra made an amused sound. “Well, if anyone can handle navigating such dangerous waters it would be you, Hef.”

  “You’d think.” He had thought. He’d thought their gay charade would work to keep their mutual attraction under control. But he was tangled up with Nikki just the same. Then Cassandra’s last word sank in. Hef.

  He turned to her again. “So it’s you who’s been telling her stories about me.”

  “Sorry. At the time, I didn’t realize you two were dating.”

  “She told you that?”

  Cassandra gave a little smile. “Fairly emphatically, as a matter of fact.”

  “No.”

  “I thought I was being warned off,” she said, shrugging a little.

  No. He swung back to watch Nikki, only to catch sight of a pair of men on the approach, their lustful intent obvious. “That damn dress,” he muttered, starting forward.

  Cassandra slowed him by a touch to his forearm. “Look. She sees, she flees.”

  Huh. Cassandra was right. Without betraying an outward sign of noticing the circling wolves, Nikki moved away, her gaze skipping past the Lotharios as if they were invisible.

  Her patent disinterest stopped the guys in their tracks. They looked at each other and shook their heads, as if baffled by her cool.

  The fact that he wasn’t the only man she could brush off didn’t make him feel the least bit better. But as long as she wasn’t being bothered, he could stay where he was, which would make him less bothered. Or so he hoped.

  “Where’d you find her?” Cassandra asked.

  His gaze followed Nikki as she sampled an appetizer. “Through my NYFM feature on private chefs. The woman who cooked for me went to culinary school with Nikki. I don’t think they were friends, exactly, but Sandy passed her name and number along to me.”

  Cassandra took a sip from the glass of white wine in her hand. “So what’s her story? Nikki’s.”

  “You found out as much as I know at the yarn shop this morning.”

  “There’s nothing else you can add? Like was she close to her parents? Does she have a large circle of friends or an extended family that she depends upon?”

  That goose along his spine was practically honking in his ear now. “She seems the type to keep to herself, I guess, and she hasn’t spoken of any friends or family besides her parents, who are gone.” He cocked an eyebrow in Cassandra’s direction. “Why the questions?”

  One shoulder lifted, fell. “Just nosy, I suppose. And interested in other people’s origins.”

  When he kept looking at her, she shrugged again and added more. “I was raised by a single mother. Product of Mom’s ménage between herself, a sperm bank, and something she said resembled a turkey baster.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Mom thinks women don’t need a man to make a family. Problem is, a family of two can be a pretty lonely little group. I’ve always been envious of the kids with the squabbling cousins and gabby great-uncles who overcrowd their holiday tables.”

  Jay’s life to a tee.

  All at once, Cassandra’s wistful expression reminded him of Nikki. There’d been that same look on her face when she told him about the first meal she’d made. Pasta. For her mother. The goose started dancing and honking again.

  “Cassandra…” He didn’t know what the damn bird was warning him about, but something odd was happening here. “Cassandra, what—”

  “What will a man have to do to apologize?” A stone-faced Gabe Kincaid broke into their conversation.

  Cassandra whirled to face her landlord. For the first time Jay noticed what she was wearing. Another one of her creations, he supposed. Sleeveless, scooped-neck, slinky, the dress was pale yellow with a tangerine color knitted around the neckline and then in tiered rows on the skirt.

  Gabe was staring at the spectacular rack the dress did nothing to hide, as if he’d never seen breasts before.

  “What are you looking at?” Cassandra demanded.

  Poor Gabe. But then Jay’s sympathy evaporated as the other man’s unflinching gaze moved up to Cassandra’s annoyed face. He didn’t appear the least concerned that he’d been caught. “I’m looking at what you want me—and every other man—to look at, Cassandra. Otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing that scrap of provocation.”

  Whoa. Jay didn’t know whether to applaud or take cover. Cassandra didn’t seem to know what to do either. She inhaled a breath so deep it further proved the elasticity of her designs.

  “Insulting me won’t get you out of explaining why the hell you stood me up,” she said.

  “You shouldn’t have tricked me into agreeing to escort you in the first place,” he retorted.

  She slammed her arms over her chest, doing even more for it than that previous deep breath. Gabe—God, the guy must be a saint—didn’t take the bait this time. His gaze remained trained on her flushed face.

  “What’s your excuse?” she asked. “Drunk again? If so, you shouldn’t have gotten behind the wheel, Gabe.”

  “I’m not drunk. You want to smell my breath?” He leaned forward.

  She shoved him away with the flat of her hand. “Talk about tricks. I’m on to you and your mints.” Her shoulders drooped and she looked away, then back again, to focus somewhere on the other man’s collarbone. “You shouldn’t drink and drive, Gabe.” Her voice was just a notch above a whisper. “Please, please, don’t.”

  Uh-oh. This didn’t sound good.

  But then that thought skittered away as Jay noted the bleak look that overtook Gabe’s usually noncommittal expression. “Cassandra…” He cupped her chin in his hand to bring her eyes level with his. “I might be on self-destruct, but I don’t plan on taking anyone else with me.”

  The air between them filled with tension, and Jay was forced to look away, as if they’d suddenly stripped in front of him. And there, in his direct line of vision, stood Nikki, presenting the sleek line of her back to the crowd as she stood alone, observing the ocean through the glass.

  She had every right to be as angry with him as Cassandra was with Gabe, he realized. Sure, he’d brought her to the party, but then he’d promptly dropped her.

  Before he had a second thought, he was standing beside Nikki. “Okay, I’m sorry,” he said. “I wouldn’t blame you for being mad that I abandoned you.”

  Her eyebrows rose as she turned her head toward him. “I’m not mad at you.”

  “I left you alone.”

  “I’m perfectly fine alone.” She seemed sincere.

  Which made him want to gnash his teeth. “I don’t believe it. No woman is this easy. You can’t possibly be that undemanding.”

  She blinked at him, her two-colored eyes unbalancing him as they so often did. “I’m that undemanding.” A cat’s smile curled the corners of her lips. “Or then there’s the other explanation—that I’m just not that into you.”

  Leaning toward him, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “And you know which one’s closer to the truth, handsome, and also exactly why.”

  It was their game. The one she didn’t realize he knew they were playing. But that was good. That meant he had control as the rule maker, as
the master of what was happening between them.

  Which was nothing, of course. He was sworn off women. And she was so against getting involved with him that she was willing to fake liking girls to avoid it.

  So why did that annoy him so much? Hef Junior should be able to handle this better.

  But now he only wanted to handle her. There was a dance floor set up in one corner of the deck. Couples were swaying to the band’s California cliché of a tune. But a lousy cover of the Beach Boys’ “In My Room” was fine for what he was after.

  His hand circled Nikki’s wrist. She glanced down at his fingers, up at his face.

  “Shanna’s here,” he said. No, she wasn’t. “Let’s dance.”

  He hadn’t completely lost his wits, however. Though he took her in his arms, he didn’t bring her too close. Her hand was passive in his, the skin cool at the middle of her bare back.

  “I saw you talking to Cassandra and Gabe,” she said.

  “Yeah.” There was enough room for a stout fence to be built between them, and it allowed him a view of the fine skin over the swell of her breasts. He remembered the hard outline of her nipples at his front door that morning and then again when he’d kissed her on the stairs. And as if she remembered, too, he glanced down to watch them harden once again.

  Christ, did women know how the sight of that affected a man?

  She cleared her throat. “Getting cold out here.”

  He looked up. Her face was flushed and as he watched, she licked her bottom lip. Just as he’d done on the stairs. He’d licked it, bit it, savored its pillow softness before sliding his tongue into her mouth.

  Without thinking, he pressed against her back to draw her closer against him. Through their clothes, his cock brushed the tautness of her belly. Her breath hitched in her throat and her bi-colored eyes darted to his.

  “There’s a woman over your left shoulder,” he said, to prove that despite being horny as hell he could play the game, too. “Black hair, brown eyes.” Nikki stumbled as he swung her around.

  “See her there now, the one in the blue dress?”