Secrets and Seduction: 5 Romance Novels (67 page)

“I get it,” Rick growled. “It doesn’t have anything to do with avoiding Billy’s grave.”

Charlie was proud of how he controlled his flinch. Billy’s death was a wound that wouldn’t heal. But Charlie hadn’t been an actor all those years without learning something about his craft. “I dealt with his death two years ago.” When he’d changed his life. “I swear on his grave I’m on a case.”

Rick sighed. “I don’t understand it, but I believe you.”

“How long have you been back, Rick?”

“Four months.”

“And how long ’til you get antsy and leave again?”

Rick’s lips quirked into a funny, silly smile. It unnerved Charlie. “I turned down a chance last week. My
wife
didn’t want to move.”

Charlie’s world rocked on its ear. “Wife? When did you get married?”

Rick looked smug. “Two months ago.” Then he sobered. “I called to invite you but you didn’t answer. I left you a message.”

Charlie would have remembered a call like that, but he hadn’t been checking his home answering machine much. “Sorry. I told you I’m building my business.” Rick looked ready to argue, so he said, “Tell me about the woman who nailed your feet to Miami.”

He listened in amazement to the brother who’d pursued evidence and facts his whole life describe his wife, Analise, who allegedly saw and spoke to ghosts. And Charlie had thought there were strange people in California.

“She made me take dance lessons.” Rick grimaced. “So we can dance with two of the ghosts during the full moon. It’s hard not to run into the girls, since I can’t see them. I try to read their location from where Analise is, but I’m wrong a lot. I hate how it feels when they float through me.” He shuddered and gripped his stomach. “Analise says it’s because I’m very sensitive to spiritual energy.”

Charlie gaped. He could not believe the words coming out of Rick’s mouth.

“But I love Analise. That’s our deal—if I accept the ghosts, she’ll live with me. I can’t wait for you to meet her. You’re going to love her. You’ll love our dog, Fitz, too.”

Rick had settled down with a wife and a dog. He didn’t seem troubled by Billy’s death or unsolved murder. Maybe when Charlie’s business was a success, Billy’s death would stop haunting him.

Juliana limped into the precinct behind Hector and their latest catch—a self-proclaimed preacher she recognized from television. He had an adoring wife and two young children. Juliana felt disgusted to have collared him.

When she reached the squad room, she pulled up short. Charlie Ziffkin sat on the edge of her vice friend’s desk, his leg swinging, the right side of his mouth quirked up in a sexy smile.

She reached for calm. “How’d you get out?”

His smile turned smug. “With the truth, of course. It opens every door. My story checked out.”

She limped closer. “That’s impossible.”

Charlie cocked his head. He looked so sexy, darn him. “Have you lived with me all these years that you know me so well?”

“I’ve seen your name in movie credits. I know you’re an actor.”

“Lately?”

Juliana had to think. “Last year.”

“It sometimes takes eighteen months to get a movie out.”

She had no answer to that. Charlie was a natural actor, a real chameleon. Why would he give it up? It made no sense. She lifted the phone and called the booking clerk.

“Why did you release Charlie Ziffkin? He was brought in for solicitation.”

“His story checked out. He’s got a valid California P.I. license. He’s got a California business named Hollywood Investigations for which he files taxes with the IRS. The business has a website with testimonials on it. His brother in homicide came and talked to him. He swears he believes the story.”

“Thanks, Hernandez.” Unbelievable. She stared at Charlie, trying to figure out how he could be a P.I. “He says your brother vouched for you.”

“I bet that’s not all he said. I never lied to you, Juliana.” Charlie hopped off the desk, took her hand, and guided her into a chair. “What did you do to your ankle?” He stroked her flesh. His touch made her shiver.

“It’s not my ankle. It’s these damn shoes.”

He fought a smile. “If Sister Mary Margaret could see you now.”

She unbuckled her shoes then yanked them off. When she lifted her head, Charlie’s gaze was riveted to her cleavage. She glanced down and saw that only her areoles were covered. Her face flamed, but the heat in his eyes made her lower body throb with need.

“My mind boggles to see a good Catholic girl working vice,” he drawled.

“I’m not a cop. I’m filling in for their regular detective who got food poisoning.”

“So this isn’t the way you usually dress?” He waved at her outfit.

“The top isn’t mine.”

“Oh yes it is.”

Her nipples peaked. He noticed.

“Charlie . . . ”

“What time do you get off?” Charlie’s eyes darkened.

She was sure hers did, too. She remembered his weight on her, his eager fumbling before they’d been interrupted.

“We never finished what we started.” His statement sounded like an enticement.

Juliana licked dry lips. “No we didn’t.”

“Aren’t you curious what it would feel like?”

Oh, God, yes!
She’d wanted to feel him inside her when she was sixteen; she felt the same need now. “I still have my Catholic school uniform. It’s a little tight, though.”

“God, I’ve fantasized about that uniform for years.” His eyes were blue flames surrounding an expanding core of black. He waited, apparently leaving it up to her.

All Juliana knew about him now was he claimed to have given up acting to be a private detective. The boy she’d known would never have done that. But her memories of him included him peering through a magnifying glass pretending to be Sherlock Holmes, with her the ever-faithful Watson by his side. He’d played Batman; she’d been Robin. Maybe for him the line between fantasy and reality had blurred.

Yet outwardly he seemed so familiar. His hair still fell in waves, just as she’d admired as a girl. His dimple flashed, and she melted. Apparently puppy love never died. He was still Charlie. The only time he’d ever been completely serious was when he’d been poised above her all those years ago. She wanted to finish what they’d started.

“Come home with me.” Before she could change her mind, she wrote directions and her cell phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to him. She could eliminate this one regret from her life.

“You’ll wear your school uniform? That is hot,” he waved at her getup, “but that uniform . . . ”

“I’ll wear it.” Her voice sounded breathy, like the teenager she’d been.

“Good.” Charlie slid his hand down her arm and intertwined their fingers.

The familiar tingling sensation, that she’d “found” something, startled her. Did he have an item on him that was lost or—her breath caught—stolen? But he’d touched her twice before this and her psychic alarm hadn’t sounded either of those times. He hadn’t picked up anything in the past few minutes. Why was she sensing something now?

“I’ll follow you,” Charlie said, not sensing anything unusual. No one ever did.

“Sure.” She’d get him naked and go over his clothes with a fine-toothed comb. Well, after she made love to him.

She drove home in a blur of lust. Her panties were damp by the time she reached her second-floor apartment. Her nipples were taut to the point of pain. Her pussy felt empty and achy.

Charlie followed her inside, crowding against her, his flesh hot against hers. The lock clicked under her fingers. She took hold of his hand and fought the tingling sensation. Later
.

Her apartment flew by in a blur of colors as she tugged him into her bedroom and released him next to the bed. It took a moment to search her closet, but then she pulled out her old school uniform. She didn’t know why she’d kept it all these years. She’d hated the all-girl religious high school.

But then she looked at the hunger on Charlie’s face, so much like the expression he’d worn that fateful day years ago, and she knew why she’d kept it. Because of him.

Charlie removed his black suit jacket. His shoulders were wider, his chest deeper. As she removed the skirt and blouse from the hanger, he tugged the sleeveless maroon vest over his head.

She paused, savoring how hot he looked in his black T-shirt and jeans. With his mussed, collar-length, wavy hair and beard stubble, he looked disreputable—a bad boy. And she was going to be a bad girl.

“Why’d you stop?” he asked.

“I wanted to savor how you’ve changed. You’ve grown.”

“Yeah, I have.” His husky voice sounded sexy. His arousal strained against his pants.

Juliana laid the uniform on her bedroom chair and reached for the hem of her tight shirt. Charlie watched, which made her feel even wickeder. Bit by bit she tugged it up, peeling it off her flesh. It took a lot of wriggling, but finally she was free and tossed it away.

Sweat dotted Charlie’s face. He licked his lips. “That was quite an appetizer.”

“I’m not done yet.” She found the hidden zipper in the tight denim skirt and tugged it down. Once more she had to shimmy, gyrating back and forth. Kicking the skirt away, she stood in her red satin bra and panties.

“God,” Charlie croaked. “You’d make a fortune as an exotic dancer.”

“I only do private dances.” She swallowed. “You’re overdressed.”

“So I am.” He dragged the T-shirt over his head with no fanfare. Her gaze followed the sparse black hair from his tight brown nipples down his firm chest past his washboard abs to where it disappeared into his jeans. He looked damn good in those jeans.

“You want me to leave them on?” He indicated his jeans. “So it’ll be like it was back then?”

“No.” She shook her head. “We’re going all the way this time.”

“Man, wait’ll I tell the guys at school.” He smiled, then unzipped his jeans and dropped them to the floor.

Oh, he was a bad boy. Black cotton cupped him, lovingly outlining his straining cock.

Juliana picked up the short plaid skirt and stepped into it. As she eased it up over her hips, she breathed a sigh of relief. It still fit. She zipped it closed.

When she reached for her bra clasp, Charlie exclaimed, “What are you doing?”

“I need to take this off in order to get the blouse on. It’s a push-up bra.”

“I think I want to see what it does for that blouse.”

Juliana slipped her arms into it. When she tried to button it, she could only get the bottom buttons closed. It gapped, displaying her cleavage like a dessert offering. She looked like a porn actress.

But one glance at Charlie told her the outfit achieved the desired effect.

“Do you have the knee socks?” he croaked.

“Of course.” She sat on the bed and pulled them on. She made sure Charlie got a good view of her damp panties.

Then she stood. They were ready to finish the scene begun more than a dozen years ago.

Charlie licked his lips. “Right. What position were we in back then?”

“Why don’t we start from the beginning?”

“That’s a better idea. Come here, Juliana.”

She was thrilled, yet nervous. This was Charlie, but a new-and-improved Charlie with unknown qualities. She moved to stand in front of him.

“What do you want, little Jules?” He’d used his nickname for her on that day, even though he’d known what she wanted.

“Make me a woman, Chaz.”

“I can see you’re very much a woman now.” He traced a finger over the mounds of her breasts, just above her areoles. Her nipples pinched to tight points. Her pussy tightened.

He covered her breasts with both hands. There was no fumbled groping. This Charlie knew how to handle a woman. “These want to come out to see me, don’t they?”

“Oh, yes.”

Charlie dipped his hands into her tight bra. Juliana sucked in her breath. As soon as his fingers brushed her nipples she gasped.

“Easy.” His fingers stroked her aching nipples.

Juliana groaned. She strained into his touch. He rubbed harder. She gripped his biceps.

“Harder, Charlie.”

For a moment the pressure increased, then he exclaimed with frustration. “It’s difficult with this bra.”

“Here.” She moved her hands to her shirt.

But Charlie stopped her. “This is
my
fantasy.” He dipped his hands back into her bra and released her breasts.

Juliana sighed with relief as Charlie covered her breasts with his hands. She stood on tiptoe so he could have better access. He thumbed her nipples until she groaned.

“You should see how you look,” he said, his voice husky. “Your breasts are beautiful. They’re fuller than they were.”

“I’m a late bloomer.”

“I love how they feel.” Charlie rubbed her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

Juliana’s panties were soaked, her pussy clenching in anticipation.

“I need to taste them,” he rumbled.

“Yes!”

Charlie gently pushed her on the bed and then followed her down. He eased his body between her legs. Then he took her left nipple into his hot mouth and suckled. Juliana cried out. He pressed his cock against her aching cleft. She thrust her body against him.

He was skilled with his mouth and his hands. Neither of them had known what to do back then. Now they did, although she wished they’d learned together.

She writhed with pleasure, arching her back to force her breast deeper into his mouth. He obliged by sucking hard. She thrashed her head. Her nails gripped his shoulders. He flicked and pinched and nipped her nipple. He rubbed his cotton-covered penis repeatedly across her aching body.

Tension gripped her lower belly. Her nipples throbbed. Pleasure streaked to her pussy. She ached. Her orgasm built. She cried out and pressed herself to him until the pleasure released her.

Juliana looked up into Charlie’s eyes. Only a narrow ring of bright blue remained.

“I need to get a condom.”

She nodded, although she didn’t want him to leave her.

Charlie climbed off the bed and bent down for his jeans. What those black cotton briefs did for him was pure sin.

He turned and stopped, staring at her. “My God, you look so hot.”