Stalk (Hotblooded Book 1) Page 5

“Does that mean we’re setting up a lunch?”

  “We should lunch, but frankly that’s not the reason for the call this time.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m thinking about putting a trail hunt together.”

  “I’m in.”

  “Well, of course you’ll be invited, but I’m not that far into planning. Right now I need to know if Foley is still the best tracker around.”

  “So far as I know he’s not just the best tracker ‘around’. He’s the best tracker anywhere.”

  “Just what I needed.”

  “You coming to club this month?”

  “I think so. We’ll see how it goes. Meantime, Arlene will call your girl and set up lunch.”

  “Sounds good.”

  The club to which Scarborough referred was a gentlemen’s hunting club. The exclusive, invitation-only-by-sponsor membership was old-world in the sense of polish and formality. In modern times membership was determined more by wealth than family name, but a certain standard of civility was still expected.

  The members were men who commanded legions of corporate employees and fancied themselves as outdoorsmen under their suits. The hunts or fishing expeditions were usually a version of ‘glamping’ that would dazzle fans of rich and famous lifestyles. The gentlemen could afford the best of everything when it came to equipment. A six-thousand-dollar Winchester rifle here. A three-thousand-dollar Bedford jacket there. And the most expensive guide anywhere, R.W. Foley.

  The ‘but’ at the end of that was, that even champagne and caviar get old after a while, assuming you liked either to begin with. So the gentlemen were always interested in a new challenge.

  From elk to big horn sheep to bear, boredom is always nipping the heels of the ultrarich, driving them to something more outlandish, more outrageous, more extreme.

  As soon as the call was ended, Bogosian looked up R.W. Foley’s contact info. Foley was an odd duck, but that was what you’d expect from a tracker who lived his life solitary most of the time. The man went by the initials, R.W., and said that was the name on his birth certificate. Bogosian didn’t care enough about whether or not that was true to investigate.

  Foley was also hard to reach. He probably carried a communication device for emergency purposes when he was in the field, but even so he could be outside cell distance or simply out of touch by personal choice. Miles knew it could be days or even weeks before he received a return call. So he reasoned that the sooner he made contact, the sooner he’d hear back.

  His message was short and simple. “I have a job for you. You know how to reach me.”

  CHAPTER FIVE Hello, Gorgeous.

  “Don’t you have stuff to do besides following me?” Reese half-teased. “People need their oil and their cookies and their joints.”

  Nick gave her the exact reaction she’d been hoping for, one of his sexy smirks. “When I’m in town, I work when you work. I walk when you walk. I make up some of that time at night because I don’t sleep much, but even if I didn’t, I’d still follow you around. I like your ass.”

  Reese blinked rapidly. “Um, thanks? But I thought you like the way I smell.”

  “I love the way you smell. I like the way your ass moves in skirts. And those tight, ah…”

  “Yoga pants?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. And shorts.”

  “Okay. I get it. You like my ass.”

  “And I’d be willing to bet that I like the way your ass sme…”

  “Do NOT finish that sentence! My God! You are an animal.”

  He chuckled, thinking she had no way of knowing how right she was. “Is that bad?”

  She stopped chewing salad and studied him. “Not entirely. It might have its perks.”

  He lowered his chin which intensified the look he was giving her. “You ready to find out?”

  She swallowed then looked down at her salad and stabbed at it with her fork. “Maybe.”

  “What’s the condition?”

  “I’m hoping for something more romantic than describing smelling body parts.”

  “Romance,” he sighed. “Highly subjective. What does that mean to you?”

  She thought about it. “Well, I guess the whole stalker thing was romantic in a twisted, perverted kind of way.”

  “What’s twisted and perverted? I like watching you.”

  She smiled. “That’s romantic.” She picked up the stem and swirled the black blend wine. “So’s this wine.”

  “Well, then. Done and done. I’ll get the check. Your place or mine?”

  “You have a place?”

  “What did you think? That I sleep on the ground?” He actually did sleep on the ground sometimes and hoped his tone didn’t give that away.

  She laughed. “No. I mean you said you commute to someplace more remote?”

  He smiled that she remembered. It meant she paid attention when he talked.

  “I have a small place in town that I keep for nights when home is too far and nights when I have a date with Reese Braga.”

  “You got a place three days ago? This is only our second date.”

  “Third.”

  “Second.”

  “Bistro and sorbet counts.”

  “No it doesn’t, because that was accidental.”

  “Reese, you didn’t accidentally sit down on a bar stool next to me or accidentally get in my car.”

  She screwed up her face in defeat. “Alright. Third date. So, if I take you back to my place on a third date, does that make me a slut?”

  He laughed. “Ms. Braga. I’ve been watching you for a long time. You’re the furthest thing from… that.” After a brief pause, he said, “I could skip food tonight. How about you?”

  She grinned. “Your eagerness is romantic, too.”

  “Is it? Tell it to my dick.”

  “Okay. See? That is not romantic.”

  He chuckled, put an entire boneless chicken wing in his mouth, chewed, swallowed then looked up and said, “I don’t know what it’s like to be female. But I think, if I was, I’d find it romantic if a male wanted me so much that he was driven to extraordinary lengths to pursue me.”

  She smiled and reached for her wine. “Yes,” she said quietly, looking at him over the rim, “that is romantic.”

  “And I’d probably look under the table to see if I could tell how hard his dick was.”

  She spat the mouthful of red wine she’d just drunk onto the food and tablecloth. Splatters of red were all over her flesh-coloured silk blouse and his pale Grey knit shirt. The mortification was amplified by a hundred when she realized that everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing and was staring.

  When Reese realized she was going to have to get up and walk out of the restaurant with red wine stains all over herself and her date because, apparently, she was a distance spitter to boot, she thought the phrase ‘walk of shame’ had taken on an entirely new meaning. Nick was nonplussed and, either to his credit or damnation, seemed more amused than anything.

  “Does this mean we can go now?” he asked.

  Reese’s face had undergone a range of red tints. “Yes,” she hissed. “Look what you made me do.”

  Nick barked out a laugh at that. The waiter had hurried over with damp towels but of course, anyone with red wine stain experience knows it was already hopeless. Nick motioned for the waiter to lean in.

  “We’re not staying. I’d like to get the lady away as quickly and painlessly as possible. Meet me at the host podium in a few seconds. I’ll give you cash.”

  The waiter nodded.

  As Nick was sliding out of the booth, he said, “Let’s go.”

  Reese didn’t want to make the dreaded exit as the show part of ‘dinner and a show’, but she didn’t want to stay either. So she forced herself to suck it up. That was when she realized that Nick had put his body between her and the rest of the room so that only a few people could see her. He was blocking her from sight. And she decided that might be the most romantic gesture she co
uld imagine.

  He continued to shield her from the rest of the room as best he could. She noticed him hand cash to the waiter on the way out and was grateful for his sense of discretion.

  As they waited for the valet to bring his car, Nick leaned over and rumbled a couple of breathy thoughts in her ear. “You didn’t have to do an impression of a human wine fountain. If you couldn’t wait to get me into bed, all you had to do was say we’re leaving.”

  She was so switched on by his breath in her ear that her nipples were poking at the silk, competing with the wine stains for attention. Not only had Nick earned the prize for most gentlemanly gentleman ever, he’d outdone himself trying to reassure her and break the tension of having made a spectacle of herself by making her laugh. Which she was currently doing. Loudly. On the sidewalk. While he grinned.

  It started to rain just as they slid into his car.

  Before driving away, he turned and gave her a look that said he thought she was adorable. “If you’re still hungry, we could order pizza later.”

  She laughed and slapped at his shoulder. She’d told him often enough that, because of the pizza place downstairs from her apartment, she planned to never eat pizza again. “Ha. Ha. You’ll have to eat pizza when you’re not with me. We could order something else though.” Her voice took on a more sultry tone. “I’m not really thinking about food right now though.”

  There was no doubt he got her message, because he adjusted his position in the driver’s seat, which made her thighs clench together of their own accord.

  “Stop it,” he growled.

  Her gaze jerked to him. “Stop what?”

  “Stop doing what you’re doing. I can smell your arousal.”

  She barked out a laugh. “You CAN NOT.”

  The look he threw her way told her in no uncertain terms that he was not joking. As unlikely as it seemed that he could smell her, across the car, she believed him. And it ‘aroused’ her even more.

  “Fuck,” he said, as a new wave of pheromones filled the small space of the car. Nick’s heart was responding to the stimuli. He blinked twice, thinking his vision might be going a little blurry. He turned his attention to the road and put the car in drive.

  Luckily Reese didn’t live far.

  The rain was coming down harder when they arrived at her place. He’d been planning to let her out and go find a parking place, but a rare spot was available by the curb just yards from her door. Not so far that they wouldn’t still be drenched, but at least they wouldn’t be out in it long.

  He pulled in, cut the ignition, removed the key and turned to her. “Ready?”

  She knew he was talking about the pouring rain, but felt like the one word question was pregnant with innuendo. Nodding, she reached for the handle and ran. After a minute of struggling with the outer door entry key, they were inside the tiny foyer.

  Reese’s scent was amplified because of being wet. So much so that he feared he wouldn’t make it upstairs. As if she heard that thought, she turned and practically ran up the stairs. Once inside her eclectic little flat, she went straight to the bath for dry towels. She took one and started rubbing it over her dripping hair while she threw the other at Nick.

  Without taking his eyes off her, he did the same then pulled his knit shirt over his head. Reese stopped to marvel at what he looked like in the light of the one lamp she’d managed to turn on as she was dashing for the bath. Nick had the kind of body women fantasize about waking and sleeping, with deeply cut ridges in his abdomen and a dark happy trail that led to…

  It seemed she wasn’t going to have to wonder where the happy trail led. Nick Sigil was clearly a man without body issues because he was shimmying out of the rest of his clothes without the least hint of shyness. She envied that lack of self-consciousness. At one point she thought that perhaps she should be undressing as well, but she was rooted to the square yard of carpeting from which she was witnessing the revelation of a physical work of art.

  Nick glanced her way and did a double take when he realized she was unmoving, staring, and completely dressed. Seeing that she appreciated what she saw, he grinned, and paid no attention to the bobbing and swaying of his erection. Though that movement was of no concern to him, she was mesmerized by the sight as he prowled toward her.

  He grasped the collar of her silk blouse. “Why are you still dressed?”

  “Um.”

  It was his turn to stare when her tongue made an appearance to wet her bottom lip.

  “Here,” he said. “Let me help you with this.”

  Reese thought that, if there had been an actual big bad wolf, he probably would have been wearing a smile identical to the one Nick was wearing. As he unbuttoned her flesh-colored blouse that was clingy from the dampness, she placed her palm on his chest between his pecs. He was warm, vibrant, and she could feel the power of his heart pumping steady and strong.

  After a couple of seconds his hand began to trail downward.

  “If you like these clothes,” he said, “I recommend that you stop right there. I have a civilized veneer, but there are limits to my control.”

  When Reese realized what he was saying, that she had the power to test his self-control, she was invigorated by a wave of self-confidence. And urgency.

  She decided the best use of her hands was helping to get her body out of her clothes. In less than a minute, she was gloriously naked and aching to feel skin on skin. He drew her against his body forcefully but not painfully, and she cried out at the sensation.

  That was when Nick noticed a change in her scent. He sniffed.

  Yeah. It was a change and it wasn’t subtle. But it was heavenly. If he’d thought she smelled good before…

  He pulled her into a kiss that had her panting and breathing heavily. Suddenly and without provocation of any kind, she pulled back, snarled then bit his upper lip hard enough to draw blood.

  When she saw the blood, and tasted it on her tongue, she was horrified. “Oh my God. Nick. I’m sorry. I… don’t know why…”

  She looked confused and a little afraid, but Nick was dealing with an entirely different set of emotions. Reese’s scent had just spiked and filled the room with an unidentifiable, but intoxicating hormone that drove his passion to a level he hadn’t known was possible.

  He turned her around, bent her over the back of the sofa and drove into her from behind. On some level he might have known that the sounds she was making were too gravelly and full-bodied to be human, but at that moment it wasn’t his intellect that was in control. It was instinct.

  His mind didn’t start working again until he came. Being somewhat aware of the expectations of modern women, he located her swollen nub and stroked to the rhythm of his slow semi-hard pumping. Her orgasm followed within seconds. By the sounds she made, he was sure it was satisfying. It was then that it fully registered that the sounds she was making were unexpected. As were the patches where the sofa had been shredded.

  He cursed inwardly, not knowing exactly what he was dealing with, but knowing he wanted the woman too much to leave without finding out. He had curled his body over hers, protectively or for the additional touch of skin. He didn’t know which.

  Turning into her, he licked her ear, kissed her neck then slowly pulled away.

  After filling her lungs with air and letting the breath out in a whoosh, she pulled her hands closer together and exerted enough pressure to push herself up. That was when she saw that her prize creamy white sofa had been destroyed. She loved that sofa, had saved for it for a year, and was able to get it at that time only because of an additional twenty-percent-off coupon.

  She’d always believed that a white sofa represented the ultimate luxury. No one had one because it could be so easily ruined. But what she was looking at wasn’t the spaghetti-sauce-coated fingers of a friend’s child or an accidental spilling of red wine.

  Her beautiful couch looked like a wild animal had taken offense at the sight of it.

  She jerked up. “What the
hell?” Her eyes targeted Nick accusingly like he might have had something to do with it, even though she knew he hadn’t. He shook his head to indicate it was as much a mystery to him. “How did this happen?”

  “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out.”

  “Figure it out?” She made a garbled noise that was impossible to recreate, but its meaning was clear. “My sofa is ruined!”

  Reese felt tears form and hated herself for crying about something as dumb as a divan, but she really hadn’t seen the evening going like this.

  Nick looked at her like he couldn’t imagine crying over furniture, but he didn’t know how long she’d wanted that particular piece of furniture and worked to get it.

  “It’s just furniture,” he said, sounding every bit as baffled by her emotional state as he was.

  “Ugh! It’s not just furniture. It’s the best furniture. And it’s not like I can just go out and get another one.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not?!? Because I’m not rich, Nick. It took two years of saving to get this.”

  “Well, maybe it can be repaired?”

  “Repaired!?!” She sounded incredulous. “Look at it!”

  “I see it. Just a suggestion, but maybe we should be focusing on what caused that and not on the, ah, couch.” She looked at him like he’d slapped her. “Reese.” He almost laughed. “I’m not sure how I’m to blame for this, but I am sure that this – whatever this is – wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been here tonight. So I take full responsibility and insist on replacing your sofa.”

  She swiped at the few tears she’d allowed to escape and did her best to recover what dignity a girl could manage standing in her living room over an inexplicably shredded sofa, naked as a jaybird, after having mind-blowing, first time sex with a stalker turned mysterious stranger turned possible lover.

  “That doesn’t seem right,” she said. “What really happened here?” Nick opened his mouth, but she held up a hand. “That wasn’t what I meant to say. What I meant to say is that I’m going to go put on dry clothes and get a glass of wine. Gods know red wine couldn’t do more damage. Then I’m going to be warm and dry and try to be reasonable while getting drunk. That’s when I’m going to ask what really happened here. Not before.”