Indecent Werewolf Exposure Read online

  “All of them?” I wrinkled my nose. That was more than usual. “We just got here.”

  “Yeah, well, we started charging the guys a cover to enter. Fifty bucks a head.”

  I almost spit out my mouthful of tropical paradise. That would have been a waste of a great drink. I swallowed before I replied. “Fifty dollars? That seems pretty steep.”

  “Only if you’re cheap. We were getting too crowded. Fire marshal gave us a citation. So, in order to weed out the undesirables and cheapskates, we imposed a cover charge. You’ll be glad to know that these new proceeds mean ladies drink for free at all times.”

  Really? I brightened. “I like that part.”

  As Dave slid by with a tray loaded with empty glasses, he added, “I thought you might. We’ve also noticed since we put the new door charge in effect that we’re having to deal less with guys thinking a girl owes him because he bought her a drink. And it keeps the riffraff out.”

  “I think you should raise the rate,” I muttered as my gaze caught the arrival of a certain guy in a suit.

  Say hello to my nemesis. Anthony Vanderson. District prosecuting attorney and pain in my ample ass since he’d transferred to our district six months ago.

  Gorgeous and always impeccably attired, Anthony never appeared in public without every hair in its proper place and his tie perfectly straight.

  I’d had to contend with the stone-faced, eloquently spoken bastard more than once in a courtroom. We’d never technically interacted outside of work, but he’d dismantled enough of my cases that even though he was super hot, I disliked him on general principle.

  The fact he could bring a quiver to my treacherous lower parts irritated me even more than the fact I’d yet to win a legal battle against him.

  Figures he’d show up. Way to ruin my night.

  “Ooh, do you see who I see?” Brenda poked me in the arm. “It’s that hunk from the DA’s office.” Brenda eyeballed my enemy.

  “I saw him. The guy’s a jerk.”

  “I didn’t know you’d finally met him.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t judge him.”

  “Any man who looks that pretty and wears suits that are ironed is too high maintenance for me,” I stated. Who the hell ironed shit? Hang it in the shower and steam it like everybody else.

  I listened with half an ear as Brenda extolled his virtues—tall, about an inch or so more than me, chiseled features, short-cropped, blondish hair, pale skin as if he didn’t see much sun, probably because he spent it all in his office plotting ways to make me look stupid in front of a judge.

  “—wonder what he’s doing here? I don’t think I’ve seen him in this bar before.”

  “Maybe he’s slumming.” Because the one thing everyone knew for sure about the wonder boy of the DA’s office was that Anthony Vanderson was loaded, as in, lived in a gated mansion, drove the nicest car, and wore thousand dollar suits loaded. It made me hate him even more.

  I’ll bet he doesn’t have to work in a tiny cubicle at a desk with one leg propped on a notepad and using a dinosaur of a computer still running Window’s Vista. I ignored the fact I’d chosen to work in a public office. When it came to reasons to dislike the panty-wetting DA, any reason, rational or not, would do.

  “Are you still peeved he won that last case?”

  Yes! And the case before that. And the one before that. Poor loser? Bet your last fucking dime I was. I could hold an epic grudge.

  Given the number of horseshoes he must have shoved up his ass, I had to wonder how his buttocks managed to look so trim in his perfectly cut slacks. Yeah, I’d looked. What else could I do but sit and glumly stare at his excellent glutes as he took my defense and expertly unraveled it before a riveted judge and jury?

  “Are you calling me a sore loser?”

  “Yes.” Brenda never spared my feelings.

  “Am not. Even if I won, I’d still dislike him.”

  “Oh, please. We both know you think he’s hot.”

  “A little. Doesn’t mean I’d do him.”

  “Chloe is a liar,” Brenda sang.

  She was right. I totally would do him, but I wasn’t about to admit that. Last time I had told my BFF about how I’d like to get intimately acquainted with the UPS guy’s abs, she’d arranged a blind date and I spent the whole dinner removing his hand from my upper thigh—as he told me how bad things were with his girlfriend. “You’re a witch.”

  “Better than a bitch.”

  “Hag.”

  “Slut.”

  We burst into laughter, not taking offense at our name-calling, a habit of ours we’d never outgrown.

  “Cheers!” She clinked her glass against mine. “I wonder why he’s here. I pictured him more of a boys’ club kind of guy. You know, one of those dark, wood-paneled places with stodgy old men and big club chairs.”

  “You watch too many movies,” I retorted. But I knew what she meant. Anthony came from old money, the kind that arrived with a silver spoon and a servant to hold it. Guys like him didn’t belong in sweaty, middle class bars with an aroma of desperation.

  “Ooh,” Brenda exhaled. “He’s looking this way.”

  “Don’t make eye contact.” First rule of a singles bar. Never meet their gaze unless you wanted them to hit on you.

  “Too late. He’s heading in our direction.”

  Of course he was. Any man who came here was looking for one thing and one thing only.

  If a hook-up was what Mr. DA wanted, then Brenda could have him. I, despite the expectant jiggle of my girly parts, would never sleep with the enemy, no matter how good-looking. My morals wouldn’t allow it, which made me wonder if perhaps I needed fewer of those.

  This was the second hunk today I’d stricken off my doable list. Perhaps I needed to rethink some of my rules. After all, shouldn’t I prefer real dick to plastic?

  “Don’t turn around now, but he’s almost right behind you,” Brenda whispered in a shout.

  I rolled my eyes. Thank goodness Vanderson didn’t have a werewolf gene, or he might have heard her less-than-subtle warning, but I did appreciate it and kept my gaze on the gleaming array of bottles lined up behind the bar.

  A body brushed up against my back and a shiver went through me.

  Please don’t be him. Please don’t be him. Not for the first time, I wished Liam would invest in a mirror for the wall behind the bar.

  A hand flattened itself against my lower back as a hard body, sporting an aftershave that tickled my nose pleasantly, wedged itself against my left hip. “Excuse me,” murmured a low voice that I would have recognized anywhere. My girly parts certainly knew who it belonged to and quivered.

  Damn. It seemed my plea for him to go away had gone unanswered. Despite myself, warmth flooded my senses as my less-than-discerning libido enjoyed the closeness of another body.

  “Would you listen to that, they’re playing my song,” Brenda shouted as she abandoned me.

  The traitor.

  Trapped by Anthony’s masculine frame, I couldn’t follow and instead found myself peering sideways at the jerk who never let me win in court.

  Bright blue eyes met my gaze. “Ms. Bailey, what an unexpected, yet pleasant, surprise.”

  Funny, he didn’t appear surprised.

  “Mr. Vanderson.” I inclined my head in acknowledgement.

  The right corner of his mouth tugged upward. Damn, the man oozed gorgeous. I wanted to look away, my eyes however preferred to remain locked on him.

  “No need to be so formal. We have, after all, met before.” Way to remind me. “Since we’re not in the courtroom, please call me Anthony.”

  Pretend we were friends? Over my dead, horny body. Never in a million years. No way. Hell would freeze over first.

  “Hello, Anthony.” I purred. What could I say? My mouth had a mind of its own and, right now, it liked the fact that he stood so close, close enough that it would only take a little effort to see if his mouth tasted as
minty as his breath smelled.

  “I do hope there are no hard feelings over last week’s case.”

  Hard feelings? Yes. And as for the three extra pounds around my waist from the gallon of ice cream I ate? Also his fault. “Of course not. Win some. Lose some.” Please don’t tell me that tittering giggle came from me. If I could have slapped myself without appearing mentally unstable, I would have.

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “What are you doing here? I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”

  Great. Now I sounded like a drunken lush who spent enough time in a bar to know all the patrons. Sometimes, the truth hurt.

  “A coworker suggested I try this place out. Apparently, they make the best Earl Grey martinis in town.”

  I held up my mostly empty glass and tilted it, draining the contents for liquid courage. “I don’t know about the Earl Greys, but Liam here sure knows how to dish these up.”

  “Let me get you another.”

  “No need,” I hastened to say, realizing too late how it sounded.

  Anthony held up two fingers and pointed to my empty glass. A moment later, Liam slid two fresh beverages our way, both a bright blue. Looked like Mr. DA would have to wait to taste his Earl.

  Not that he seemed to mind. He slid a twenty at Liam, waved away the change—show off—and lifted the flared glass with long fingers, the nails perfectly rounded and clean. No calluses on him.

  Wonder what those smooth fingers would feel like on a certain sensitive body part?

  Shudder. My poor panties. I might have to wring them dry.

  He tilted the martini in my direction. “To finally meeting outside a courtroom.” Anthony chimed his glass off mine.

  “Ditto,” I mumbled before gulping back half the contents. I couldn’t have said why a languorous heat spread through my limbs.

  Perhaps I was still horny from my meeting earlier with werewolf Pete? I mean, the dude totally rocked my libido.

  Yet, I’d controlled myself.

  So why this sudden fierce arousal for Anthony? It wasn’t as if he did anything overtly sexual, just leaned against me. What choice did he have? The place overflowed.

  Yet, a simple brush of our bodies shouldn’t ignite my senses.

  Was it the alcohol? I didn’t think I’d drunk enough.

  Unconsciously—or not—I caught myself shifting, almost rubbing myself against the guy.

  Someone get a spray bottle. I was acting like a pussy in heat, and he didn’t help things.

  The hand on my back no longer lightly touched but firmly pressed, his thumb stroking me, branding me through the thin silk blouse I wore.

  I should have moved away, or made some attempt to ignore him. A smart girl would have joined Brenda—my traitor of a friend who’d ditched me. She currently gyrated with a few guys in suits and loosened ties, her jiggly little body doing some kind of techno bop on the barely existing dance floor. It looked fun, especially since I enjoyed dancing.

  However, I didn’t move.

  Neither did Anthony.

  “I have a confession to make.” His lips practically brushed my lobe as he leaned over to whisper in my ear.

  A shiver went through me.

  “Are you going to tell me you’ve made a deal with the devil, which is why I can never win a case against you?” I blurted the strange accusation, my martini courage giving my wayward tongue free rein.

  A normal man might have taken offense, but not Mr. Hot Shot DA. He threw his head back and laughed. Had I mentioned he possessed the most incredible laugh?

  “Not quite, but I might need a deal with the devil if you keep up your good defensive work. You certainly keep me on my toes.”

  “Glad to know I’m giving you some exercise.” My wry reply didn’t daunt him in the least.

  His lips brushed my ear lobe again. “I enjoy the challenge, which is why I’m glad we finally get to meet outside of work.”

  “You are?” I couldn’t help but turn my head, which brought our faces incredibly close.

  He possessed the most incredible skin. Smooth, unblemished, and his lips…they moved.

  “You sound surprised,” he said.

  “Probably because I am. We are, after all, working on opposite sides.”

  “But it doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

  Oh my freaking gawd. I recognized that inflection. He was hitting on me. “I don’t know how appropriate that would be.”

  “There are no laws against it. I checked.”

  He’d done what?

  The grin curling his lips short-circuited my brain for a second. The man blinded me with his good looks and his charm.

  “No laws maybe, but I have my own personal rule, which states no fraternizing with coworkers.”

  “And yet didn’t I see you here with one of the legal secretaries?”

  “That’s different. We’ve known each other since kindergarten.” And I didn’t want Brenda to put a dick into my pussy.

  “So long as we’re not sharing information on a case, or actively arguing a case, I don’t see why we can’t explore certain opportunities.”

  The guy just wouldn’t give up. Flattering. Disconcerting. And annoying because, despite my dislike of him, I couldn’t help enjoying his flirting. Just like I couldn’t stop wondering if his lips would feel as soft as they looked.

  Is he a giver or a taker? A part of me was tempted to find out.

  But the smarter part of me knew better than to play his game.

  “Listen, Mr. Vanderson—”

  “Anthony.”

  What was it with guys insisting I use their first names today?

  “While your attention is flattering, I just don’t think this is appropriate.” Taboo, my body agreed. So taboo. Naughty even. Very naughty. Could I blame the drinks on my rising temperature?

  A body jostled mine from the other side and the hand on my back went full circle to steady me. Anthony drew me in to his hard chest, pressing me flush against a torso that I instantly noticed was really happy to see me. Up went my gaze to meet the brilliant blue one of my nemesis—a man who claimed he wanted to get to know me better.

  Maybe I should let him. Wasn’t there an expression about getting to know thy enemy? And what better way than naked?

  “Crowded place,” he observed, making no move to let me go or allow any space between us.

  “No more than usual.”

  “What do you say we adjourn somewhere quieter? Maybe grab some dinner.”

  Actual food? Or did the inflection imply something else, something I’d just said no to?

  A smart defense attorney would have rejected his offer, however I’d already proven myself stupid when it came to Anthony.

  Mesmerized by his gaze—my body melting like butter in his grasp—I found myself nodding.

  With his arm around my waist, he managed to guide us with more ease than expected from the bar.

  Outside, the cool night air brushed over my fevered skin. It brought back some of my sanity and I pulled away from him, determined to put some distance between us, to tell him I’d changed my mind.

  What was I thinking agreeing to go to dinner with the enemy? I hated Anthony, I mean Mr. High and Mighty DA Vanderson. I—

  Before I could say anything, he spun me in his arms and his lips came down hard on mine.

  Holy shit. Talk about instant, flaming heat.

  Good intentions? Kiss them goodbye.

  Reasons to walk away? Burned to a crisp under the expert caress of a man who knew his way around a woman’s lips.

  He left no part of my mouth unexplored, sucking my upper and lower lip, one at a time, massaging them, tasting them.

  He didn’t suckle alone. I gave as good as I got, tangling my tongue with his, groaning when his teeth grazed me. The man could freaking kiss.

  We stood on the sidewalk, in plain view, without a care for who might be watching, embracing passionately. Hungrily.

  I clung to him, my
fingers laced at the back of his head while his arms hugged me tight, his hands cold brands over the silk that impeded his way to my bare skin.

  A strident whistle with a catcalled, “Fuck yeah, buddy. Do her!” brought me back a semblance of rationality.

  What the hell am I doing?

  I drew back, lips swollen, breathing uneven and legs wobbly. For a moment, I could have sworn Anthony’s eyes flashed with blue fire, but he blinked and the odd light disappeared.

  Am I drunk? I didn’t feel drunk. Aroused, wet, and hungry for kisses, yes. Yet, I seemed in perfect control of myself, if I ignored the fact I wanted the man before me to fuck me.

  Now.

  Screw our public location or my dislike of him. Need consumed me. A need he could take care of.

  I licked my swollen lips. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” I whispered, my voice not quite as steady as I would have liked.

  For a moment, he didn’t reply, just stared. When he did finally speak, his low tone slid over me, a sensual tickle of sound that I swore actually touched me between the legs. I quivered.

  “Come with me. My car isn’t far. Just a few blocks.”

  A part of me urged me to say yes. I wanted to go with him and steam up the windows of his luxury sedan. Leave ass prints on his surely leather seats. But why resort to a quick, uncomfortable coupling when I knew of a bed nearby?

  I did the unthinkable.

  “My place is closer.” I later blamed this poor decision on my pussy, which mutinied and took over my body, a total limb assault on a quest for sex.

  At my words, I could have sworn I saw, once again, a blue flare in his eyes. Probably just the glint of the neon lights flashing around us.

  A smart man, he didn’t say much after my invitation, else I probably would have had time to change my mind.

  His fingers laced with mine and even though I’d not told him which building I lived in, off we strode, just another couple, hurrying to get home so we could screw like wild animals.

  No denying, I wanted to feel him inside me.

  Something about my behavior should have rung warning bells. I didn’t take coworkers home. Especially ones I abhorred. I also never left the bar without telling Brenda, my wing-woman. Then again, I’d also never experienced such an ardent need for a man before.