Dash of Peril

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

DASH FELT HER WATCHING him as he put two aspirin next to her plate and filled her glass with iced tea. “You can ask me anything, you know that, right?”

Confusion kept her brows pinched down. She tossed back the aspirin. “The chicken smells good.”

“It’s my grandmother’s recipe. Mom is an okay cook, but my grandma could put twenty pounds on anyone.” He smiled as he served first her, then himself. “But we both know that’s not what you want to talk about.” He joined her at the table.

It was the oddest thing, watching Margo screw up her nerve. She was a fearless woman who would put herself in the line of fire to save someone else, but now, with him, over chicken dinner, she seemed so uncertain.

Dash sat back. “Out with it, honey. Then we can both enjoy our meal.”

Predictably enough, her chin lifted and she met his gaze. “Fine.” It took a second as she seemed to search for the words. “You said...you said you loved it when I was...” More searching, and she settled on, “Passive.”

Now what was she thinking? Dash crossed his arms over his chest. “I love seeing how turned on you get. So?”

“So I’m seldom like that. It’s not really me, it’s just—”

“It’s you,” Dash corrected her. No way would he let her deny how good the sex was between them.

That she’d once thought him boring...yeah, that burned his ass big-time. Hopefully he’d already disabused her of that notion. But it bothered him enough that he thought about giving in to her tonight. He worried for her injured arm, but he could take extra care—and utilizing that care would, in itself, be another form of foreplay.

“You know what I mean, Dash.”

“I do.” He knew her far better than she realized. “Occasionally enjoying a submissive role during sex is only a small part of who you are. But it’s honest, and important.” Catching on to her concern, he sat forward, his arms folded on the tabletop. “I love seeing you all warm and aroused, waiting for me to take care of you. But I also love it when you’re cocky like you were today with that idiot in the truck. Much as it scared me, it also impressed me.” He grinned at her. “I even like it when you’re all prickly, giving me a hard time.”

She shook her head, maybe in disbelief, maybe in confusion.

Dash reached for her hand. “And I love how you are right now, uncertain but straightforward with me, determined to draw some boundaries in our relationship.”

“Is it a relationship?”

His gaze narrowed. “Yes.”

She searched his face for the longest time. “And if I’m ever not in the mood to be docile?”

He grinned. “Then bring it on. I guarantee I can handle it.” Because I can handle you, every fascinating part of your personality. But he decided not to voice that confidence just yet.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“I’m sure we’ll enjoy ourselves all the same.” Because being with her could never be less than mind-blowing.

She gave it a lot of thought and then with a slight smile, she released his hand and picked up her fork. “All right.”

That was a mighty easy capitulation. “I’m not boring?” He wanted to hear her admit it.

“Ha! No, definitely not boring.” She eyed his chest. “You’re so exciting, I’m not sure I can take much more.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have to. He’d see how she felt after dinner—and make up his mind then. It was that “boring” comment that made him want to prove himself, he knew, but what the hell, he was only a man and he had his pride.

It amazed Dash to see her dig into her dinner. “Mmm, this is good.”

Fickle woman.

They were halfway through dinner when Margo got a call from Rowdy. She heard her cell ringing from the bedroom, where she’d left it in her purse, and started to stand.

Dash waved her back to her seat. “I’ll get it for you.”

“It could be the station,” she said, getting up to follow him anyway.

Dash had no intention of breeching her privacy. He just picked up the purse and carried it back to her, meeting her in the hallway. Quickly she dug out the phone and answered on the sixth ring.

“Hello? Oh, Rowdy, hi.” She gave Dash a quick glance and headed back to the kitchen. “What’s up?”

Dash silently followed her. Unlike the last time he’d seen her with Rowdy, there was no inflection in her tone other than mild interest.

Jealousy was a bitch. He fucking hated it.

She’d thought he would be boring—but she had wanted Rowdy.

Hiding his feelings on the matter wasn’t easy. Definitely, tonight, he would have her.

When she reached the table he held out her chair and she smiled at him as she seated herself. “When was this?” she asked Rowdy. And then she said, “I’ll have Reese and Logan check it out.” She listened, then scowled. “So I’m finding out last?”

Dash reseated himself across from her.

Her discontent intensified and she stiffened. “Damn it.” She listened, shook her head. “Yes, you do that. And next time call me first.” More listening, and then a sigh. “No, I would have sent... Well, yeah. All right, fine. I understand. Call me if you find out anything else.” She closed the phone, looked ready to toss it and instead set it carefully on the tabletop.

“Trouble?” Dash asked.

She forked up some veggies. “Rowdy got a lead on where the firebugs might’ve been hiding out. He told Logan about it, and he and Reese went to check it out.”

Ah. So Rowdy had bypassed her. “He went to them first because they were already out and about?”

“That’s what he says. I still think he should have told me first. There’s a proper order to the way things should be done.”

Dash saluted. He, himself, had a proper order in mind...for winning her over.

Margo’s eyes narrowed on him. “I guess it doesn’t really matter. By the time the boys got there, the place was toast.”

The boys. Funny that she would refer to two such competent detectives that way. “Toast how?”

“Burned down. It was an abandoned garage and someone torched it.”

Thinking of the threat against her, Dash stiffened. The ones responsible proved more dangerous by the hour. “It was empty? No one else was hurt.”

“Thankfully.” She ate a few more bites. “I’ll call your brother in a minute to find out the rest of the details, and of course we’ll still check for evidence since Rowdy insists his informant was solid, but it’s doubtful we’ll be able to find much. Rowdy is going back to his snitch to see if there’s anything new.”

“Was it burned with kerosene?”

Before she could answer, a knock sounded on her door. Margo groaned. “It’s like Grand Central Station around here.”

Dash left the table again, pausing to pull out her chair. “You might want to get a housecoat or something. I’ll answer the door for you.”

Grousing, she grabbed up one more bite of chicken on her way out.

Oliver awoke with the knock and he darted into the kitchen to hide under the table. Dash sympathized with him, gave him a few quick treats and went to the door.

Logan and Reese stood there. The sky had darkened and it smelled like rain, but so far the skies remained dry. “Hey.”

Giving him a disgruntled frown, Logan pushed his way in. “Where’s Peterson?”

Margo appeared around the corner. “Is something wrong?”

Logan and Reese both froze comically, their gazes going all over her from her tiny bare feet to the tightly cinched belt on her robe, to her tousled hair and makeup-free face.

Logan’s widened gaze came back to Dash and stayed there.

Reese looked at the ceiling, the floor, his own feet.

Fighting a grin, Dash said, “Come on in. We were just having dinner.”

“Fried chicken,” Logan said while sniffing the air. And then to Reese he added, “He makes it just like our grandma does.”

“Damn, that smells good,” Reese told him. “Don’t suppose you have any left?”

“A little. You want to—”

Margo cleared her throat loudly. “Why. Are. You. Here?”

Reluctantly, Logan turned to her again.

Dash almost laughed at the resolute look on his brother’s face as he tried to keep his gaze north of Margo’s breasts beneath the soft terry robe.

“Rowdy said he called you about the fire?”

“Yes.”

Logan rolled a shoulder as if to relieve tension. “Yeah, well, we have some news. Rowdy was going to call you back, but I figured since we were out I might as well give it to you in person.”

“Less chance of plans being intercepted that way,” Reese told her.

Dash realized they were all still worried about controlling things, and the possibility of any residual corruption left at the station.

“Why don’t we sit in the kitchen?” Dash asked. “They can eat while they talk.”

“Fine.” Margo led the way.

Reese glanced at her ass in the robe, then quickly away. He looked guilty as hell about it, too.

Glaring at Dash, Logan fell into line behind Reese.

It was too damn funny how they both continued to see her in such a one-dimensional way, which, in part, probably contributed to the difficulty Margo had in coming to grips with the different facets of her personality—facets he’d brought to the fore. If everyone else saw her only as a severe authoritarian, how hard must it be for her to show her softer, more vulnerable side?

While Dash divided the rest of the food on plates for his brother and Reese, Logan pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “A few hours before the fire started in that building, some neighborhood kids found kerosene dumped everywhere. They called Cannon because they thought it looked suspicious. Cannon says the kids claimed it was tossed on the walls, all over the floors and on some old tires.”

With grave reservations, Reese sat next to Margo. “Cannon, of course, called us. Before we could get there, though—”

“Fire?” Dash filled in.

“The rear door had been pried open—the boys said they found it like that. They cut through that back alley on their way home from shooting baskets down at Cannon’s rec center.”

“Good thing they didn’t stumble into whoever set the fire.” Dash could only imagine what might have happened to the kids if they had.

“That’s what Cannon said,” Logan confirmed. “He plans to talk to them about not going that way anymore.”

“They need to avoid all alleyways, in my opinion,” Reese added. And then to Margo, “I was going to talk to some of the unis about patrolling along that way a little more often, especially around the time the rec center closes up.”

“Good idea.” Margo fidgeted a moment. “How long before the fire marshal has a report?”

Dash noted her quiet, lethal manner now. Despite her lack of proper clothing, she was back to being a lieutenant, chillingly furious, probably over the fire and the possible danger to the kids. Not giving a damn what Logan or Reese thought, he reached over and took her hand.

Brows raised, she looked at his hand, nonplussed, and her gaze crawled up his arm to his face.

He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look away, either.

Relenting, Margo accepted the contact and curled her fingers with his.

It took Logan a second to shake off his discomfort. “Chief Williams said there were a series of small explosions that he assumes were tires blowing from the heat. He hadn’t yet determined exactly how the fire ignited, but he’s leaning toward deliberate vandalism.”

Margo stewed in silence a moment. “No one knows we didn’t find evidence. Whoever started the fire didn’t expect kids to call it in so quickly. They probably assumed the building would burn to the ground. But it’s still standing?”

“It is,” Reese said. “The firemen got it under control right away, but everything is a mess.”

“None of the other buildings—also vacant—were affected,” Logan said. “Except for some external smoke damage.”

“So...” Margo looked around the table at each of them. “We could let word out that we found a few leads. Yes?”

“Tell a few lies?” Logan slowly nodded. “Might push the bastards to show themselves.”

Reese grinned. “Want me to put the word out?”

“No.” A sly smile eased away her frown. “Given their connections, I think it’d be better if Cannon and Rowdy put the word out on the street.”

“Hell of an idea.”

“And if that doesn’t work...” Margo drew a deep breath. “I could make myself available.”

“You already did that,” Dash said, starting to feel uneasy.

Logan scowled at her. “She means to set herself up as bait.”

Ice ran through Dash’s veins. “No.”

“It’s not up to you,” she said mildly. “And, no, it wouldn’t be my first choice.”

Dash sat frozen, his gaze drilling into his brother—but Logan wouldn’t meet his eyes. Because he agreed with her? Fuck.

“Let’s try this first.” Logan stood, his cell phone in hand. “I’ll get hold of Rowdy right now.”

Reese also moved from the table. “I’ll talk with Cannon. I was going to stop by tonight to check on the kids who saw the whole thing anyway.”

With satisfaction plain on her face, Margo watched them get started.

His brother would just have to make it work, Dash decided.

Margo looked at the tabletop for several heartbeats before lifting her gaze to his. “I’m a damn good cop.”

“I know.” He really did.

“You can’t interfere.”

That fact made him all the more anxious to bind her to him somehow. He forced himself to nod. “Okay.”

Her smile flickered over her face. “The lie might work. Right now the goons are smug, thinking we’re lost—which we are. But if they start to worry, they’ll make a mistake.”

“And then you’ll have them.”

“Yes. And then I’ll have them.”

Logan spoke to Rowdy, updating him on the plans. Reese was on the phone with Cannon, making arrangements to drop by.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Dash said.

“Always.” Somber, she said, “If I screw this up, another woman could be hurt.”

And she’d never allow that.

Now, more than ever, Dash couldn’t wait to get her alone.

OLIVER SAT IN HER LAP through half an hour of a boring sitcom. Dash, who could have worked the inquisition, insisted on tidying the kitchen—shirtless—while she relaxed. Or rather, tried to relax. Instead, though, her gaze repeatedly sought him out as he moved around in the other room, giving her occasional glimpses of his magnificent body through the doorway.

Whenever he happened to look up and catch her watching him, he smiled. A few times he even asked her if she needed anything.

Sex, she wanted to say, but he already knew that and she saw no reason to keep belaboring the point.

Normally, on a night like this, she would have been stewing over the case and feeling the futility of trying to locate scumbags before they committed another crime. That frustration was there, but other frustrations trumped it and in some way, it helped her to keep a clearer head where work was concerned. It never made sense to obsess over a case. Doing so kept someone from seeing the obvious.

Right now, on top of the regular due diligence, she could only wait and hope that the tale Rowdy and Cannon would spread would force the bastards to react in a way that left them less protected.

Pans rattled as Dash put them away, and then water ran in the sink. That was enough to, again, distract her.

No one, ever, had pampered her like this. Even as a child she couldn’t recall anyone telling her to sit and relax.

Not that Dash was a martyr. She had no doubt that once she was 100 percent again, he’d enjoy her help in...everything. Cooking, cleaning, caring for Oliver.

Sex.

As he exited the kitchen, her eyes ate him up. She wanted to see him naked, to touch him all over—

He paused in front of her, a small knowing smile making him sexier than ever. “I’m done with the kitchen so I’m going to jump in the shower. I’ll need about twenty minutes so I can shave, too.” He rubbed his bristly jaw and some rough emotion darkened his voice. “You’re so soft all over, I don’t want to risk giving you whisker burns.”

Margo’s eyes widened. But with that cryptic comment, which made her stomach tumble over, he walked away.

She twisted to watch him go—and saw he was grinning. How could he give her whisker burns if he refused to have sex with her? Or—oh, God—did he plan to make her insane again while denying himself with another of his superhuman shows of control?

When he disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door, she dropped back in her seat. Oliver, disgruntled, resettled himself over her lap.

For the next few minutes her imagination drummed up every sensual possibility known to man. She could hear the shower going, and in her mind she could see him naked, his hard, muscled body wet and glistening, how the water would trail through his gorgeous body hair, over his chest, his abs, down that tantalizing happy trail—

The water shut off and her heart missed a beat. An invisible ribbon pulled tight deep inside her. She realized she’d stopped petting Oliver, that her hands were still and her gaze staring off at nothing in particular.

Oliver stretched, yawned and made his way off the couch—with her help—to go to his bed. He turned three circles, pawing a blanket this way and that before dropping down and stretching out flat, his front paws off one end of the bed, his back paws off the other, his little furry face relaxed.

Margo smiled at him. He was still the sweetest cat ever. No one in her family, not even West, liked to pet him.

But Dash did. He was as attentive to the cat as she was.

She let out a sigh.

“Feeling melancholy?”

Twisting around again, she found Dash standing there, his hair still damp, finger-combed back from his freshly shaved face. He wore only drawstring lounge pants that hung low on his lean hips.

No shirt.

Mercy.

Mouth going dry, Margo stared as he looked toward Oliver. “Is he out for the night?”

“Yes.” Oh, God, she sounded like a frog. A weak frog. Clearing her throat, she said more forcefully, “Yes. I’m surprised, too, because it’s starting to rain and usually that spooks him.”

“Maybe,” Dash said, going to the front door to check that it was locked, “he’s comforted by me being here.”

Because she sure enjoyed having him around, Margo agreed, “Maybe.” And wasn’t that a kicker? She’d been alone so long, she would have sworn a man of Dash’s size and presence would crowd her house, her lifestyle, her way of doing things.

Instead, it was so nice to have him there. Even now, as he took her hand and drew her up from the couch, she could breathe in his intoxicating scent and that, too, was so, so nice.

His thumbs rubbed her shoulders. “I haven’t asked you in a while, but how’s your head?”

She’d actually forgotten about that injury. “It’s fine.” With his chest right there, she had to touch. His chest hair was crisp, not superthick but definitely supersexy. “No more headache.”

“And you said your arm isn’t giving you any problems.”

Oh, she hoped this was going where she wanted it to go. “I want the splint off, that’s all. But no, there’s no pain.”

Standing there in her living room, he let his gaze wander from her face to her chest. Very intent, he lowered his hands and opened the belt on her housecoat. “Logan and Reese almost lost their eyeballs, seeing you like this.” He spread the terry cloth wide. “But I understood.”

“In a ratty old housecoat? What dull lives they must lead.”

“It’s soft in a way they’ve seldom seen with you. And comfortable.” He pushed it off her shoulders. “There’s no denying your curves in this thing.”

As he looked at her “curves,” she inhaled. His gaze was so tactile she felt it.

“If it had been any other guys, I don’t know. I think it would have pissed me off.” His eyes met hers. “But my brother, Reese...I know they were just taken off guard. Again. With you hurt and us together, they’ve had to see you differently. It’s entertaining. And now that they see you as a woman, there’s no going back. Not that I want you to start flaunting yourself at the station or anything.”

As if that would ever happen. “It would be grossly inappropriate for me to wear revealing clothes at work.”

“I’m not talking about anything revealing. But what you wear is like a suit of armor.” He cupped her left breast—and just held her.

She loved his hands, how big they were, how strong they looked in comparison to hers. His fingers were long, his knuckles big, his forearms and the backs of his hands dusted with hair. So masculine. So sexy.

“I’ve been to the station enough times to see other women in their uniforms.” Dash lifted her a little as if testing the weight of her breast. “There are little things women know to do to make even a burlap sack look attractive. Except that you never do those things.”

“Never?” Slowly, so he wouldn’t object, she trailed her hand down his body, over those firm abs and that narrow line of crisp hair that disappeared into his sleep pants. His skin was so warm, so sleek. She curled her fingers over the drawstring waistband, then had to resist the urge to tug them down. “I dressed differently at Rowdy’s bar.”

His smile went crooked, maybe over her sneaky caress, or maybe over what she’d said. “Yeah, and Rowdy recognized right away that you were up to something. We both know he’s different from Reese and Logan. You could walk up to Rowdy buck naked and while he’d no doubt enjoy the show, he wouldn’t miss a beat.”

True. There was little a woman could do to take Rowdy by surprise. He was the most sexual man she’d ever met. Or rather, she’d thought so...until she and Dash got involved. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” He cuddled her breast and finally his thumb came up to coast over her nipple. Once, twice—until her nipple tightened. He watched as if fascinated. “You already know how I enjoy seeing you.”

“Do you ‘miss a beat,’ as you said?”

“Yeah, that and more. Seeing your sweet little body almost levels me. But honestly, honey, your attitude is every bit as sexy as your body.” He turned her, taking his time as he stripped the housecoat off her shoulders, down her right arm and then down her splint. Instead of letting her turn again, he tossed the housecoat to the couch and kept her facing away from him, one hand splayed over her belly, the other stroking her backside under the big T-shirt he’d given her. “I wanted to wait,” he told her. “I hate the thought of maybe hurting you. But damn, Margo, I can’t.”

She shouldn’t sound so anxious, but it felt like she’d wanted him forever. “You mean—”

“Touching you today,” he whispered near her ear, “tasting you, that was enough to obliterate my good intentions. But then seeing you in cop mode with Logan and Reese... Intelligence and cunning are so damn sexy.”

Would Dash always surprise her with his odd observation of things? “What I suggested wasn’t all that cunning, really. It’s just—” Her voice dropped off when he cuddled both breasts.

“Let’s go to your bedroom.”

Hallelujah. “All right.” She wanted to forget everything except Dash and how he made her feel and the fact she would finally get to experience everything with him. But she couldn’t be that irresponsible. “Let me grab my phone from the kitchen.”

“Sure.” He picked up her housecoat. “Do you think Rowdy or Cannon might have news tonight?”

“I don’t know, but your brother and Reese would also use my cell if they had any news.” Phone now in hand, she passed him on her way to the bedroom. “Come along, Dash.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Margo heard the amusement in the way he said that, but so what? Erotic need hastened her steps to the bedroom. Once inside, she put the phone on the nightstand and began stripping off the T-shirt.

Dash stepped into the room, closed the door and leaned back against it to watch her. His gaze burned over her, but he didn’t offer to help, didn’t move away from the door, didn’t say a word.

Margo threw the T-shirt at him. It hit his stomach and fell to the floor. Not feeling the least bit modest, she faced him with her shoulders back, her chin lifted. She felt a little awkward in the splint, but not enough so to hesitate when what she wanted was so close at hand.

He took his time looking her over, his gaze lingering at the notch of her thighs until she wanted to squirm.

The prolonged, intense silence got to her. “Take off your pants,” she told him.

“Not yet.” He looked into her eyes, letting her see the stunning lust in his. “You don’t seem to realize it, but I’m hanging on here by a thread. I don’t want to rush through this, so leaving them on for now is a safeguard.”

“You promise they will come off?”

“Yeah. Soon.” He stepped up to her, his hands—fingers spread—moving from her shoulders, over her breasts, down to her waist and thighs.

She trembled.

He opened his mouth on her throat, up to her jaw, below her ear. In a gravelly rasp, he said, “I want to eat you again.”

Margo’s knees went weak. She wanted that, too, but more than that, she wanted him, all of him. “I need you inside me.”

“Come here.” He drew back the covers on the bed, sat down with his back to the headboard, his legs stretched out, and patted his abs. “Sit.”

Beneath the soft flannel sleep pants, his erection stood at attention making her heart pump in slow heavy beats. Yes, she would sit, gladly.

He helped her climb up into the bed, arranging her left leg over his hips so that she straddled him. She tried to sit lower on him so that her hands could play, but with a chastising, “Behave,” Dash moved her up higher. He bent his legs up and let her rest back against his thighs.

She tried to reach back, but he caught her hand and instead placed it on her thigh.

“Relax, honey. You’ll get your turn, but we don’t want this over with before it even gets started. If you start playing touchy-feely, that’s exactly what’ll happen.”

No, she didn’t want that. But relaxing was out of the question. “Kiss me.”

“All right.” He took her shoulders and drew her forward, but instead of her lips, he drew her nipple into his hot, wet mouth, his velvet tongue lathing, his teeth teasing.

There seemed to be a direct link between her nipple and her womb. Breathing harder, she sank the fingers of her right hand into his hair and held him close.

He suckled for a very long time, leisurely, tirelessly. Even when she squirmed on him, pushing her bottom back to his erection, he continued to draw on her. When he did finally let up, it was only to move to her other nipple. He gave her a peck, licked, circled with his tongue. “This isn’t uncomfortable for your arm?”

Breathlessly, she whispered, “No.” It was so stirring she didn’t know if she could take much more. With each soft suckle, her muscles drew tighter, the lust sharpened, pushing her ever closer to the fall.

“Good.” He caught her hip and said, “Scoot forward again. Now lean down. That’s perfect.” And again he drew her in, his tongue curling around her, his teeth occasionally closing carefully for a gentle, tantalizing tug.

So lost in those wonderful sensations, at first she didn’t notice when he smoothed a hand over her hip, along her bottom and down. “Tip forward, honey. Mmm, that’s it.” And he sank two fingers into her. Before again latching on to her nipple, he said, “You can sit again.”

But sitting pushed his fingers deeper and she just naturally rocked against him. The spiraling pleasure escalated, growing sweeter, making her more desperate. It was a little unnerving, having Dash work her so easily. But it was also so wonderful that she didn’t want him to stop, even whispered, “Please don’t stop,” in a ragged plea.

“No, I won’t.” He went back to her nipple, so gently now that the contrast of his fingers buried deep proved her downfall. She clenched around him, tightened her hand in his hair and cried out as a climax shook her.

Slowly, Dash lessened the intensity of his touch until she almost melted against his chest.

Instead he eased her back against his bent legs. They both breathed hard.

He ran a hand over her. “Your nipples are so wet and stiff.” He strummed one with a fingertip. “So damned sexy.”

Sensitive now, she flinched away.

“Too much?”

Unable to drum up words yet, she nodded. She couldn’t get her eyes to open, couldn’t get enough air into her lungs.

Dash parted her thighs more. “You’re beautiful.”

And easy. At least for him.

While Dash idly touched her in various ways, she concentrated on recovering. Once she’d regained her wits enough to speak, she looked at him and murmured drowsily, “Now, finally, it’s your turn.”