Her stomach turned over. “I guess we all play parts for different people. Everyone does.” Would that answer suffice? How much did he see?
He nodded. “Yeah. I guess that’s true.”
“The article I read said you’d been undercover for more than two years with the actual mob.” How had he survived?
He nodded, taking a drink of his wine. “I went in as a slightly crazy enforcer and befriended the only son of Mario Bodini. He’d lost two other sons. One to drugs and the other to violence. They needed somebody trustworthy who could help with the drug business.” Mal’s voice remained flat, as if he were giving an official report.
She grasped his hand, trying to give comfort. “The paper said Bodini had killed more than twenty people through the years.”
“Yeah, but his son hadn’t.” Guilt flashed across Mal’s face. “Junior could’ve been a decent guy if he’d had a different family. If he hadn’t wanted to please his father so badly.”
“Did he die in that raid?” she asked quietly, feeling for the suffering ex-cop. Why did the past have to haunt them all so persistently?
Mal shook his body, his gaze becoming veiled. “Yeah. A lot of people died.” His smile didn’t crease his cheeks. “And now I’ve become a guy who argues about how many pencils a receptionist should get. Not to mention getting to talk to dorks who steal papers.”
That was probably her cue to leave. Seeing him in pain made her want to comfort him, and with his still bare chest, her ideas for doing so were leading her into thoughts she couldn’t have with him. They had to remain friends. “So. Thank you for the wine.”
“This was delicious.” He sighed, his body visibly relaxing. “I had hoped to work on the house tomorrow instead of tracking down that idiot. It’s at least a two-hour drive. Somewhere outside of a place called Minuteville.”
She choked, coughing. What? Minuteville? Tomorrow?
“Hey.” He set down his wineglass and reached around to pat her on the back, watching her carefully. “Are you okay?”
“Wrong tube,” she gasped, trying to get herself under control. This was disastrous. He was going to be around Minuteville the next day? She’d call off her meeting, but surely Trixie needed money. She cleared her throat. “I’m okay now.”
“Good.” He smiled. “Anyway, I’d hoped to maybe get this place in order tomorrow, and I had been planning on begging for your help. My grand plan was to bribe you with this wine.”
She forced a smile. “I am that easy. Good wine will get me every time.” She stood and placed her plate in the sink. Whoa. Too much wine. The entire world fuzzed, and she forgot all about tomorrow’s problems as she turned around to face him. “Though I should, ah, get going.” She had to get out of there. Now.
He stood and set his plate on top of hers, having to lean around her to do it. His body bracketed her against the sink. So warm and big and enticing. “Are you sure you’re all right?” He tucked his knuckle beneath her chin and slowly lifted her face.
The wine fizzed through her, mixing with the panic. Then there was her reaction to him. Scary and fluttery. “I’m fine.” Her gaze dropped to his lips. They were just so kissable. And he’d seemed vulnerable when he’d been talking about the mob. He’d opened up to her. She stopped breathing.
“Good.” His thumb ran along the bottom of her jawline, an odd strength in the movement.
Without thinking, she levered up and set her mouth against his. Ah. Those lips were firm and yummy.
He paused for a second and then he kissed her back, taking over. One arm snaked around her waist, and he pressed her against the counter, going deep.
The soft sound of need she made should’ve embarrassed her. But her body went from relaxed to full-on aroused in less than a second. Plastered against him, she could feel muscles and hardness everywhere. Her hands flattened against his bare chest.
Then she curled her nails into all that smooth strength. The small sting must’ve shocked him, because he somehow moved in even closer, grasping her hips and lifting her onto the cool counter. Her butt hit and she gave a slight bounce. His hand slid into her hair, tugging her head back, his hips spreading her thighs.
It was the most vulnerable and erotic position she’d ever been in. One she’d fantasized about. He held her in place, providing balance and taking control. His tongue swept inside her mouth, enticing her.
Heat rushed through her veins, lighting her nerves, pinpointing in a desperate throb between her legs.
He kept one hand in her hair and one at her hip, and she wanted him touching her everywhere. Her breasts ached, needy. Desire grabbed her as he pressed closer. She moaned. So close. There were too many clothes between them. God, she was curious. She caressed her way down his chest and over the hard ridges of his abdomen.
He gave a low grunt and lifted his head, letting her catch her breath.
His eyes were the color of a wild, tumultuous river. Primitive and filled with a hunger that promised to consume her. Then, slowly, she could see him come back into himself. His expression cleared. “Pippa.”
The one word. The way he said the name she’d chosen and not the one she’d been born with. This was more than just sex. He was more than just sex. How could she do this, with him, and lie? He was a hero, a man who’d saved countless lives at the expense of his own safety. He deserved the truth, which was more than she could give. She blinked. Her hands dropped. Letting herself get tipsy was no excuse.
What had she just done?
Chapter Eight
