Good, Bad…Better Read online

  Spike heels and gravel didn’t mix well, forcing her to mince across the lot like a doll-footed geisha. When she reached the door, she took a deep breath, smoothed her hair and pushed it open.

  The interior of the Black Cat smelled like cigarette smoke and leather. The clatter of pool balls from the line of tables at the back of the room competed with hard rock on the jukebox and the low rumble of mostly male voices. She stood in the entrance, trying to pick out Zach among at least three dozen other men dressed in denim and leather.

  “Hello, pretty lady. Can I help you with something?” A burly blonde with a neat goatee and a leather cap rose from a nearby table and grinned at her.

  “No, thanks.” She flashed a smile and headed to the bar on her left.

  She slipped onto an empty stool. An older woman with magenta hair moved over from the beer taps. “What’ll it be?”

  She opened her mouth to order her usual Diet Coke, then shut it again. A bad girl would drink something stronger than a Diet Coke. But what? The only alcoholic drink she’d ever liked much was a piña colada. She glanced around at the pool players and drinkers. Even the women here looked tough. Not the kind to drink piña coladas.

  “Come on, I ain’t got all night.”

  A man leaned over the bar a few feet away. “Rachel, give me a rum and Coke and a Bud.”

  “I’ll have a rum and Coke,” Jen blurted.

  A few minutes later, the bartender set the drink in front of her. She was digging in her purse to pay when a hand on her arm stopped her. “Let me get that for you.”

  The man who’d greeted her at the door slid onto the stool next to her and handed the bartender a bill. “I’m Charlie,” he said, flashing a brilliant smile.

  “Uh, hi. Um, thanks for the drink.” She sipped it cautiously.

  But not cautiously enough. More rum than Coke, the concoction burned her throat. She shoved the drink aside, coughing.

  “Whoa, there. Too strong for you, honey?” Charlie patted her back helpfully.

  “No,” she gasped. “Just…went down the wrong way.” She grabbed up the drink and took another very tiny sip. This one wasn’t so bad. Maybe it just hadn’t been mixed very well the first time.

  “So are you gonna tell me your name or do I have to guess?” her companion asked.

  She glanced at him. “Oh. It’s Jen.”

  “Gin. Like the booze. Nice name.”

  She didn’t bother to correct him. Instead, she swiveled around to face the pool tables across the way. Almost immediately she saw Zach. He was bending over the middle table, lining up a shot. Intent on the game, he hadn’t noticed her. Which meant she’d have to find a way to get closer and attract his attention.

  “Why are you starin’ at him when you’ve got me right here beside you?” Charlie leaned close.

  “Oh, I, uh, just thought he looked familiar.” She made an effort to focus on her companion once more. He seemed a nice enough guy, and it might not hurt to practice her flirting skills a little. She took another drink. It tasted better this time.

  “That’s Zach.” Charlie sipped his beer. “Dude’s a pretty good pool player, but you don’t want to get too near him tonight. He’s in a bad mood.”

  “Oh?” She glanced at Zach again. As far as she could tell, he looked as he always did—pretty unemotional.

  Charlie nodded. “Yeah. If you were to ask my opinion, I’d say it was something to do with a woman.” He grinned. “You know, you females are the cause of all our troubles.”

  She summoned up her sultriest smile and shook her finger at him. “Oh, but we’re responsible for a lot of very good times, too, aren’t we?”

  He leaned closer. “I’ll bet you and I could have some very good times, darlin’.”

  She kept smiling, and finished off her drink. The sooner she caught Zach’s eye and they got out of here, the better.

  ZACH HAD JUST MADE A tricky shot and was lining up for his next move when he glanced up and saw Jen sitting at the bar.

  At first he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. After all, Jen wouldn’t be at the Black Cat. And Jen didn’t wear red lipstick like that.

  But a second, long look told him it was Jen perched on that bar stool, Charlie Saxon leering all over her. His hand tightened on the pool cue.

  “Come on, Jacobs, make the shot. We got people waitin’ on this table.”

  He focused on the ball once more, and had just drawn back his arm when he heard Jen laugh. High and too loud, but her laugh all the same. The tip of the cue bit into the felt of the table, eliciting groans and catcalls from onlookers. “What’s with you tonight, man?” his opponent asked.

  In answer, Zach tossed the pool cue at him. “I’m done.” He walked away, circling around the room to approach the bar, his eyes on Jen.

  She was wearing that tight, blue satin blouse. And from the looks of things, no bra underneath. The tops of her breasts curved above it, the calla lily tattoo drawing the eye. Charlie was definitely focused on those very feminine curves. He’d scooted onto the edge of his bar stool, so that one wrong move would send him face forward into Jen’s cleavage.

  Zach clenched his fists. What the hell was Charlie looking at her that way for? As if she were some barfly who couldn’t wait to go home with him.

  For her part, Jen was batting her eyelashes and leaning forward to give him a better view. What was that all about? Since he’d told her he thought they should break things off, had she decided to find another man to warm her bed?

  The thought made him feel as though he’d swallowed glass.

  Charlie flashed a weasel grin and put his hand on Jen’s thigh. Zach stared at those thick fingers curled against her pale skin, and the next thing he knew, he was standing in front of the two of them. He didn’t remember crossing the room, but here he was. “Get lost,” he growled.

  “Now I don’t think—” Charlie raised his voice in protest, but when his eyes met Zach’s, the words died on his lips and he shrank back. “Okay, man. I’m leaving.” He cast a questioning look at Jen, who was staring at Zach, then backed away.

  Zach took the bar stool Charlie had vacated. “Zach!” Jen’s voice was breathy. She stared into her drink, then back at him.

  “What are you doing here?” He rested his hand on the bar between them. He wanted to touch her, but was almost afraid to. Once he had hold of her, he’d either turn Neanderthal and drag her out of here, or he’d crush her to him and kiss her until she couldn’t think about anyone else. Neither move seemed likely to go over too well at the moment.

  She traced the moisture on the rim of her glass. “Charlie and I were just talking.”

  “Yeah, I saw the kind of talking he was doing.”

  She looked away, cheeks flushed. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” She picked up the glass and held it to her chest, pressed against the deepest part of her cleavage. A single drop of moisture from the glass dripped onto the top of her breast and slid beneath the satin of her top, toward her nipple….

  He shook his head, forcing his eyes away from that erotic image. It didn’t matter if he was jealous or not, her being here was crazy. He took her chin and turned her head so he could look into her eyes. They were glassy, the pupils dilated. “You’re drunk.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve only had one drink.” She looked at her glass. “One and a half.”

  “I thought you didn’t drink.”

  “I don’t. But I’ve decided to start.” She took another sip.

  He took the glass from her and moved it out of reach. “I’d better take you home.”

  “I just got here. I’m not ready to leave yet.” She slid off the bar stool, teetering only slightly in her impossibly high heels. She made her way to the jukebox.

  He followed, aware of the stares of other men lingering on the tight, black skirt clinging to her shapely backside and her long, dancer’s legs. The kind of legs a man dreamed of having wrapped around him.

  She stopped, hands braced on the juke
box, and studied the selections. “Let me take you home,” he said, his voice softer this time, almost pleading. The last thing he wanted was to make a scene. One loud protest from her and twenty burly men were liable to rush to her rescue. He needed to persuade her to leave quietly, to go someplace where they could talk in private.

  She turned suddenly and straightened, the tips of her breasts brushing the front of his shirt. “Why don’t you dance with me, Zach?”

  “I don’t want to dance.” Not here. Not with everyone watching them. The only kind of dancing he wanted to do with her involved them alone, and naked.

  “I’ll dance with you, sugar pie!” another man called.

  Her gaze bored into Zach, hot and sweet. “Let’s enjoy ourselves, Zach. We don’t have much time left.” She pirouetted in front of him, enticing him to dance.

  Her words, and the look in her eyes, tore at him. He pulled her close, as if he were about to lead her onto the dance floor. “Let’s go,” he said again, his lips pressed against her ear. He inhaled deeply of her vanilla perfume. The scent transported him right back to the first time she’d lain in his arms, and every time since. That’s all he wanted right now, to make love with her again.

  She didn’t fight him this time. Instead, she closed her eyes and rested her head against his cheek. “All of a sudden I’m not feeling very well,” she said. “I think I’d better go to the ladies’ room.”

  He waited in the hall outside the rest rooms, leaning on the pay phone and watching the door. She was in there so long he was about to ask a waitress to go in after her, but finally, the door opened and she emerged.

  She was paler, and after a minute he realized she must have washed off most of the makeup. She’d lost the glazed, intoxicated look, too. “Are you okay?” he asked, putting his hand on her shoulder.

  She nodded. “I guess I shouldn’t have had that second drink.” She dug in her purse until she found a roll of mints, then popped one into her mouth.

  She started to turn toward the front again, but he nudged her toward the back. “We can go out this way.” The last thing he wanted right now was to parade her past all those hungry eyes.

  The back door opened onto a wide alley. Trash cans stood on one side of the door, while stacks of crates of empty beer bottles filled the other side. They moved around the crates, toward the parking lot, but well before they reached the end of the alley, she stopped.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I want to tell you why I came here tonight.” She leaned back against the brick wall of the building, her face in shadows.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter.” She grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to face her. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, her features emerged. Not exact, but shadowy, filled in by the image of her burned into his brain. “I came here because Theresa told me you were here,” she said. “Because I wanted to be with you. Because I want you.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter to me if we’re different or the same, I just want us to be together.”

  “You didn’t have to dress like this to convince me to be with you.” He smoothed his hand down her side, feeling the ridges of her ribs beneath the satin.

  A half smile formed on her lips as she dragged the tip of her finger down his throat. “You don’t like the way I look?”

  He dropped his gaze to the shadowed valley between her breasts. “Oh, I like it, all right.” He covered her breasts with his hands and squeezed gently. “I was dying in there, watching all those other men watching you. Wanting you.” He bent and kissed her neck, her flesh silken beneath his tongue.

  “Do you want me, Zach?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Then show me.”

  He raised his head. “I’ll show you when we get home.”

  “No. I can’t wait.” She slid a hand between them, along the ridge of his erection, then shaped her fingers to him, stroking up and down, the heat and friction stretching his willpower to the point of breaking.

  He grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “You don’t want to do this here.”

  “I do.” Her eyes bored into him. “This is me, Zach. The real me. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but I’m not all one or the other. And right now I really need to do something that the good-girl side of me would never do.” She brought one leg up, wrapping it around his thigh, trapping him. She began unbuttoning his shirt, kissing his chest as the fabric parted.

  He buried one hand in her hair and dragged her face up to his, seeking to distract her with a kiss. She tasted of peppermint, at once cold and hot against his tongue. She wrapped both arms around him and writhed against him, sliding up and down his thigh with a moan of pleasure.

  That gentle sound was his undoing. His own need overwhelmed him. He looked at her face, soft with desire, and couldn’t deny her, or himself, any longer.

  He slid one finger under the thin silk of her panties and into her. She was burning up, wet and throbbing. “Zach, please,” she panted, arching against him. The feel of her tightening around him made him ache for her.

  He bent his head to her breasts, sucking her through the fabric, feeling the wet silk slide across her erect nipples. She strained against him, her thigh tightening against his.

  He pushed down the fabric of her blouse, exposing her to the pinkish glow of the mercury-vapor light over the back door of the bar. Her nipples were dark and swollen. He licked and nipped at them, her every cry of pleasure fueling his own desire.

  She fumbled at his pants, blindly undoing his belt, sliding down the zipper. The cool night air made him gasp as she exposed his erection, then her fingers almost stopped his heart as she stroked him.

  Afraid of losing all control, he pushed her hands away and squatted in front of her, putting him out of reach of her grasp and nearer the part of her that called to him.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she stammered.

  “This.” He pushed her skirt up out of his way and grasped her thighs, parting them slightly. The silk of her panties was damp, smelling of sex. He caressed her bottom, feeling her muscles contract as he stroked her, tracing his finger along the crease where cheek met thigh. When he could wait no more, he shoved her underwear to one side and parted the folds to reveal the aroused nub of her clit.

  Her moan when he swept his tongue across her vibrated through him, to some primitive core that answered with an animal moan of his own. His lips closed around her, sucking and licking, tasting the sweet-sour essence of her desire.

  She widened her stance, fingers splayed against the brick wall of the bar, head arched back. He felt the tension building in her, and increased the pace and pressure of his own stroking, his muscles tensing in anticipation of her climax.

  She came hard, bucking against him, pulsing with her release. He pressed his face against her thigh, holding her as she continued to tremble.

  Then she was pulling at his shoulders, urging him to stand again, her kiss searing, demanding. “Hurry,” she whispered. “I want you in me.” She reached for him, warm fingers wrapped around his penis once more, drawing him to her.

  Her touch reminded him of the one thing he hadn’t thought of earlier. He groaned and rested his forehead on her shoulder, struggling for control.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered, her voice urgent.

  “I don’t have a condom.”

  She pulled his head up and stared at him, wild eyed. “No!”

  He shook his head. “I don’t suppose you…”

  She closed her eyes. “No.”

  He glanced toward the door of the bar. Only a few feet, but so far from her arms. “I could buy one inside….”

  “No.” She clutched at him. “Don’t leave me. Maybe just once….”

  His eyes met hers and she shook her head. “No, that wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  “That wouldn’t be a good idea. Here.” He took her hand and wrapped it around him once more. “Use your hand.”

  “Or my mouth.”
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br />   He pulled her close. “No, I want to hold you.”

  She was gentle at first, a warm, velvet caress more teasing than satisfying. “You can be firmer,” he said. “I’ll let you know if it’s too much.” He pulled both of her hands up to his mouth and licked her palms, then guided them down to fit around him once more. “Use both hands, and whatever you do, don’t stop.”

  She was a quick study, adopting a smooth, stroking motion that made his vision lose focus. He locked his knees and tightened his arms around her, his forehead pressed against her shoulder, surrendering to the intense waves of sensation.

  His world shrank to the space the two of them shared, all his being focused on the feel of her hands around him, the softness of her shoulder against his cheek, the erotic smell of passion that clung to them. He was helpless to move or speak, yet his weakness with her made him feel that much more of a man.

  His climax was powerful, taking everything he had. She cradled him in her hand, continuing to stroke until his spasms subsided. He sagged against her, aware of her strength supporting him, her lips feathering kisses along the side of his face. He didn’t want to move or open his eyes to break the spell. He’d never felt so close to a woman before. So truly intimate.

  Gradually he began to return to his senses. He heard traffic on the street and the heavy throb of bass notes from the jukebox in the bar. With effort, he pushed away from her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to crush you.”

  “It’s okay.” She held her hands cupped in front of her and grinned up at him. “Do you have a handkerchief?”

  When they had cleaned up and rearranged their clothing, he turned her toward the parking lot. “Give me your keys and I’ll drive you home.”

  She handed him the keys and wrapped her arm around his waist. “Take me to your place, Zach. I want to stay with you tonight.”

  He’d never let a woman stay all night at his place before. That was his place, and he’d never planned to share it. But he couldn’t say no to Jen. He didn’t want to say no. He patted her shoulder. “All right. We’ll go to my place.”