Marshall stepped forward and without preliminaries tugged her close. Dana's hands found purchase at his powerful shoulders. His arms slid around her waist, and before she knew it he had her plastered closer to him than peel on a banana. Taking a chance, she gazed into his eyes. Warm, sinful flutters entered her stomach and made her want to shift closer to him.
She licked her lips. "I thought you had to work."
"Just got off."
"Did you really send Logan to keep an eye on me?" She wanted to feel indignation, but couldn't.
"Not exactly. He said he'd be here, and because of your case, he's keeping a close watch for strange activity. You qualify as strange activity."
"Thanks, Marshall. Remind me to write you out of my will."
He nodded toward Aunt Lucille, who did a slow waltz with an older man. "I really want him to keep tabs on Lucille, but he'll also keep a watch on you."
He tugged her against him, and it forced her arms to slip around his neck. Moments ago she'd appreciated Logan keeping his distance. Now she allowed Marshall to press tight against her from chest, to groin, to thighs, to knees. Dana shivered, but not with cold or distaste. She stifled a groan of pleasure. Maybe she could give in, for a while, to the overwhelming physical attraction churning in her gut. Perhaps one night of--
No!
Her excruciating relationship with Frank Bevans all those years ago had served to spoil her on men for the last several years. Besides, a one-time bed session wouldn't solve the intermittent craving she had for male companionship. She hadn't known a man's lovemaking in almost ten years, but her body hadn't forgotten what it felt like. Something deep inside always reminded her of her sexuality and that she hadn't lost her human needs along with her broken heart. Dana eased away from old memories. Her broken heart mixed with the shame and guilt she experienced when she thought of Frank.
Not a good time to reminisce.
Marshall's gaze slid down to her low neckline and warmth filled her face. He swept a heated glance over her that almost melted her knees. Her feelings jumped from amazed to excited. Inhaling deeply, she caught his warm, spicy scent. How can I think about a man's crazy-making sensuality at a time like this? But she did. His eyes held a thousand mysteries and made her want his protective embrace. Brennan Marshall inspired fantasies of satin and velvet pillows piled high by a roaring fireplace, popcorn and hot cider. She didn't dare go further than that. Venturing deeper into fantasy meant visions of him naked in bed. With her.
No. That went way over the top.
He nodded toward her neckline. "That's an interesting piece of jewelry. I haven't seen too many women wear a ring on a necklace."
She almost touched her Dad's ring. "Thanks."
"Old boyfriend's college ring?"
Dana let out a tiny laugh. "No. Not hardly."
She half expected him to probe for answers like a good cop would. Instead, he kept his mouth clamped shut.
When Clint Black and Lisa Hartman sang about love forever more, Marshall moved her a little faster, drawing her into a sinuous, sensual tempo. The man danced with a sexual rhythm that sent her libido into trip-hammer overdrive. Continual heat washed through her as his body slid against her in ways that made her want him.
Stop, Dana. Don't give in to some odd hormone rush. It doesn't make any sense.
"Are you going to stare at me like that all night?" she asked in defense. "Or do I have to drag that information out of you too?"
"Don't try driving a hard bargain with me, Dana. Logan's here as a consultant. That's all you need to know."
"What is he? A psychic?"
Marshall closed his eyes for a moment as if he might lose patience. When he opened his eyes, he slipped his right hand a little lower on the material covering her hips. Any lower and he'd cup her butt.
She doubted he'd do that in public, but the hint of the forbidden made her want to squirm. She made a tiny, uncontrollable shimmy with her hips.
His hand moved back to her waist. Damn! Damn!
"I don't think he's got a psychic bone in his body," Marshall said.
"A sex therapist?"
He jerked his head back almost as if she'd slapped him. "What?"
Dana's hands slid down to his shoulders. "A sex therapist. You know, they--"
"I know what a sex therapist is." His eyes narrowed, his brows lowered. "Why would you think Logan is a sex therapist, for God's sake?"
She shrugged. "Well, maybe we need someone to decipher the noises coming from the heart-shaped bed." She dragged her gaze back to his and observed his heightened color. "Are you embarrassed, Marshall?"
"Why would I be embarrassed?"
"You never know. A man your age might find the topic--"
"My age? How old do you think I am?"
"Forty?"
He cursed softly. "Thirty-six."
"Keep your voice down. Someone will hear you."
Marshall tightened his grip around her waist and she felt nothing but a powerful chest and the unmistakable hint of his...arousal. Oh, my lord. This time her face flamed.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"Uh, nothing."
"Huh."
"You know, I think 'huh' is universal man language. Guess we haven't progressed that far from the cave."
"Huh."
"See what I mean?" Once on a roll, though, she found she couldn't stop baiting him. She shifted gears. "Logan is a striking man."
He grunted. "I'll let him know you said that."
"Don't you dare."
"How are you going to stop me?"
"I..." She didn't have a clue, and she almost whacked his shoulder with her fist. "Don't tell him."
"All right." Something challenging, angry, and yet excited flew through his gaze. She saw it all and it made her stomach tingle with equal urgency. "But it's going to cost you."
)
