Manhunting in Mississippi (15 page)

“Did you enjoy your dinner?” he asked them in a friendly voice.

Henry belched and nodded. Piper turned her back and kept moving toward the truck, already dreading being slung into the seat. But Henry, undoubtedly trying to improve his

chances for more than just a good-night kiss, clasped her around the waist and lifted her with infinite slowness onto the seat. Too late, she realized her knees were nearly at his eye level and he had a bird’s-eye view up her dress.

“Nice,” he said, abandoning subtlety. He glanced around in the semidarkness and Piper panicked when she realized he was going to make a move on her behind the protection of his truck door. When he looked back to her, his mouth was slack and his eyes hooded. “Real nice.” He slid his hands between her knees like a diver cutting through water, heading for the finish line.

She stiffened and jammed her knees together while pushing his hands away. “Don’t touch me!” she barked.

But Henry only laughed, a lazy, throaty laugh. “Come on, Piper,” he whispered. “This seat is just made for showing me what you got—I’l make you feel good.” His hands zoomed forward again and Piper, furious, lifted her foot and kicked him in the chest, propel ing him backward. He landed on his back with an oomph, and Piper glanced around wildly, wanting to run but deciding she had more leverage at this height if he came back for more.

“Take me home, Henry,” she said through clenched teeth. “Now.”

He sprang to his feet and brushed off his backside, then advanced on her again with a nasty smile. “Oh, you’re a little tiger, aren’t you—hey!”

Piper’s eyes widened to see that Ian had Henry in some kind of choke hold with his arm yanked up behind him.

Henry bucked around uselessly, grimacing. “Hey, let me go!”

A stone-faced Ian looked at her and nodded toward the parking lot. “Piper, get in my car. I’m taking you home.”

“But I…” She trailed off when common sense prevailed, and climbed down. She sidled around the two men and walked toward Ian’s car. She turned back to see him release

Henry by shoving him to the ground, facefirst. She couldn’t tel what Ian said to him, but Henry didn’t move. She did, however, see Ian remove a little slip of orange paper from his shirt pocket and toss it near Henry’s head.

Stil looking grim, Ian strode toward her and unlocked the passenger-side door.

“Ian, I—”

“Get in the car,” he said, nodding.

She frowned. “I just wanted to say thanks.”

His expression softened and he smiled. “Oh. You’re welcome.”

Afraid he was going to kiss her on the spot, Piper ducked inside.

Tension fogged the interior of the car until her ears felt plugged. They were nearly a mile down the road before either one of them spoke. Tingling with humiliation, she shifted in her seat. “I’m glad I ran into you.”

“Me, too.”

She laughed nervously. “Because you’l never guess—I had a breakthrough today at home and I came up with the best chocolate cake you’l ever eat.”

“You baked the cake at home?”

“Yeah,” she said, staring out the window. “I was going to bring it into the office tomorrow and cal you, but…”

“But since I’m taking you home anyway…”

“I could offer you a little preview.”

He was silent for so long Piper final y opened her mouth to recant her half-baked invitation, but before she did, he said, “I think that’s a great idea. Funny, I just realized, I’m stil hungry.”

Their gazes locked in the dark and Piper shivered. Once they arrived home, she would close the curtains, take the phone off the hook—anything to keep them from being

interrupted during their…dessert.

CHAPTER NINE

No man will buy the cow if he can get the milk free.

IAN FOLLOWED PIPER
as they entered her house through the back door. She turned on a night-light above the sink, casting a low glow over the smal room. Next to the tril ing, chirping insects outside, the house seemed eerily quiet, the silence broken only by the hum of the refrigerator, the almost staticky noise of the cloying humidity and the bass thudding of his heart.

Forget the dessert, he wanted
her,
he admitted unabashedly as he raked his gaze over her ful -body profile. The black sleeveless dress molded to her curves, stopping midthigh on her bare, tanned legs. Black strappy sandals revealed pink-painted toes. Beautiful. She had dominated his thoughts al evening—hel , since the moment he met her, if truth be known.

Her hands shook, he noticed, as she switched on a saucer-size fan sitting on the counter. Her hair blew back slightly from her face as the fan’s oscil ating head passed over her. From the droop of her shoulders, she was either scared, or doubtful—or both—of what might happen before he left. The linoleum squeaked beneath his shoes as he walked up behind her. He slid his hands around her narrow waist, splaying his fingers over her stomach, and inhaled deeply behind her ear as he gently pul ed her back against him.

Piper gasped, covering his hands with hers and arching into him. Absurdly, he was already dreading the morning. This might be their only time together, ever. He turned her

around in his arms and kissed her, moving his lips against hers in a slow, sensual ravage. Using his tongue, he probed with an intensity that promised later intimacies. He moaned in gratification when she sucked the column of his tongue, making pledges of her own.

She exhaled puffs of hot air that he drew in and swal owed, wanting to possess the very essence of her. Her body fit against his perfectly and his hands itched to undo every one of those buttons that stood between her body and his gaze, her skin and his mouth. At last he lifted his head. Her eyes shone in the shadows.

“I’ve wanted you,” he murmured, “since I saw you lying there in a puddle of water in the parking lot.”

She laughed softly, then pushed gently at his chest. “Speaking of puddles…my cake!”

“Piper,” he said, laughing and grabbing her hands. “You’re not serious about having dessert, are you?”

“Yes,” she declared, pouting and pul ing away. She pul ed a pan forward and peeled back a napkin that had been covering the cakes. “Wha-lah!”

He moved in behind her again, nibbling the back of her neck. “And I thought that was you that smel ed so good. Wait a minute—” he sniffed her temple “—it
is
you.”

“Ian,” she protested weakly. “It’l just take me a minute to warm up the sauce—you’re going to love this, I know.”

He sighed noisily. “Only if you’l split it with me.”

“That’s the idea—a dessert to share.” Pointing to the table, she ordered, “Sit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” On the way, he spotted an aged radio on top of the refrigerator, circa 1960. “Nice. Does it work?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, but you might have to play with it a little.”

Might as well play with something,
he thought. Ian flipped the power button and turned the knob al the way left, then al the way right until strains of Marvin Gaye drifted over their heads. “Perfect,” he pronounced. Since her hips started swaying to the sensual beat, he assumed she agreed.

Relegated to the table, he sat down and watched her remove two bowls, presumably the sauces, from the refrigerator. She placed one bowl in the microwave, then rummaged

in an overhead cabinet, giving him a nice glimpse of upper thigh. His body tightened and he gritted his teeth. Sitting out of range of the light and in near darkness, he drummed his fingers restlessly against the smooth surface of the table. “Anything I can do?”

“Do you want some coffee?”

He shook his head. “But you know what sounds good? A tal glass of water.”

She grinned and pointed her elbow at the refrigerator. “Use the bottled water—it tastes better. I’l have a glass, too.”

While he pul ed glasses from the cupboard and fil ed them from the water container, he watched her assemble the dessert with her smal hands. She placed what appeared to

be a large muffin with a sinkhole in the top, on a deep saucerlike dish with fluted edges. The heavy scent of chocolate, rich and nose-tingling, wafted around her. Careful y, she drizzled an unheated frothy sauce into the center until it oozed over the sides. She licked her fingers, causing him to set his jaw. Then she removed the bowl from the microwave and repeated the drizzling and the oozing with what appeared to be a thin, dark chocolate sauce.

“Looks delicious,” he said, clasping her wrist. He lifted her hand to his mouth and licked the black chocolate from the tips of two fingers. When he released her, he grinned. “The cake looks good, too.”

Her eyes looked slightly glazed, and Ian wondered if they’d be able to make it al the way through dessert before tearing off each other’s clothes. He carried their glasses to the table and sat down heavily. She fol owed, her high-heeled sandals tapping against the floor. She set the cake between the two glasses and he reached for her.

“Do we get to eat with our hands?” he teased.

She eluded him with a sidestep and veered back to the counter. “No,” she scoffed, holding up two spoons. “And here’s extra sauce—hot and cold.” She set the cold and warm

toppings on the table. “Whipped cream?”

“Sure,” he said, swal owing.

She opened the refrigerator. “Cherries, too?”

The woman was kil ing him. “Why not?”

She carried her loot to the table, removed the lids and claimed the other chair. “Wel , dig in.”

He reached for her again, but she whacked him on the back of the hand with a spoon, so he decided to behave…for the time being. “What is it, exactly?” he asked, scooping

up a dripping mouthful.

“See if you can guess.” She chewed on her lower lip in the most delicious way.

The flavor of the cake flowed pleasingly over this tongue, and he glanced down, impressed. “Mmm. Let’s see, I know that taste…it’s malt.”

Piper nodded and leaned her elbow on the table. “Do you like it?”

“It’s great,” he admitted, lowering his spoon for another bite. “Have a bite.” He held a spoonful to her lips. She hesitated for only a second, then opened her smal mouth. He gently inserted the spoon, but stil managed to dribble sauce on her chin.

He stopped her hand in midair. “Let me.” When she swal owed, he leaned forward and licked the sauce from her chin, nipping along her jaw. Reaching past her, he found the

bowl of dark chocolate and dipped his finger.

Ian lifted his hand and stroked the chocolate down the side of her neck. “Oh, look,” he murmured, then dipped his head and licked off the streak, inch by delectable inch. The dessert abandoned, he gripped her chair by the seat and dragged her closer to him in the near darkness. He dipped his finger into the cold sauce next and painted the hol ow of her col arbone, lapping it up a moment later.

She moaned, swaying into him, then deftly undid the top few buttons on the little black dress with her fingers, giving him a glimpse of her lacy black bra and the hol ow between her breasts. He crushed her to him, burying his face in her cleavage. His body leaped in response to her beauty and her curves.

“Piper,” he whispered against her skin. “I want to make love to you.”

She moaned in acquiescence, digging her hands into his hair, pressing his mouth against her. He dragged his tongue across the top of her breasts, then lifted his head and

kissed her hard on the mouth. Throbbing with need, he twisted and set the cake and glasses safely out of harm’s way on the counter.

Then in one motion, he stood and lifted her from the chair onto the table, standing between her spread knees, the dress straining at the lower buttons. He made short work of them, freeing her legs to open wider, revealing toned thighs and black panties. Groaning, he wrapped one arm around her back and pul ed her sex against his with one hand, while freeing the rest of the buttons with the other.

“Ambidextrous,” she mumbled, arching her back.

“Hmm?”

“You’re ambidextrous.”

He smiled as the dress fel open, revealing her bra, her narrow waist and shal ow navel, and the skimpiest pair of panties he’d ever seen. “Comes in handy sometimes.” He

pul ed her mouth to his in a grinding kiss and pushed the dress down over her shoulders.

She unbuttoned his shirt and slipped her hands inside to thumb his nipples. Ian sucked in a sharp breath and shrugged out of his shirt, letting it fal to the floor. She tugged at the waist of his jeans, but he stopped her, knowing he had to pace himself, wanting to prolong her pleasure.

Sweeping the dress from beneath her, he pressed her back on the table, feasting on the sight of her hil s and val eys in the shal ow light. Slender and fine-boned, she was

simply incredible. Wildly anxious to see her naked, he forced himself to slow down. He dipped his fingers into the sauces and painted cold and warm squiggles across the tops of her breasts, over her rib cage, down her flat tummy and into her navel, then licked, sucked and nibbled it off, working in reverse. He paused at her mouth for a deep, bittersweet-chocolate kiss, but her clutching hands skimming over his bare chest sent him seeking other erogenous zones.

Reaching beneath her, he unfastened the flimsy bra, freeing her breasts. Ian nearly fel apart just from the sight of her nipples, dark pink buds in the center of tan lines left by a skimpy bikini. He leaned over her and touched his tongue to a tender tip and she bucked beneath him. Her skin felt silken against his cheek.

He held her hands above her head, clasping her wrists loosely. He laved one breast and latched on to her nipple, drawing it into his mouth, eliciting mewling noises from her throat. Half lying, half standing, he pressed the ridge of his erection against her open thighs.

Impulsively, he lifted the bowl of warm dark chocolate and dribbled it over her firm round breasts and lower, to pool around her navel. He lapped the sticky sweetness from her navel first, dipping in his tongue, rimming the edge, then ate his way back to the other breast, where he feasted anew.

When her skin glowed clean and moist, he kissed his way down to her waist, then ran his fingers around the lacy waistband of her panties. Stepping back, he lifted her hips and dragged off her panties, letting them fal from his fingers to join his shirt on the floor.