The Witch's Seduction. Elle JamesЧитать онлайн книгу.
wove her way through a maze of desks and people.
New to the department, she held her head high and pretended she belonged, although that was as far from what she felt as it could be. Starting over was hard. Running her own private investigations business in St. Croix had proven easy. Rich businessmen and desperate wives came to her. Deme had mastered the art of being low profile. To be a good investigator, you had to blend in. She’d done that well, pretending to be a tourist or local depending on the need.
Now, with nothing assigned, she stood out as the only person in the room without a pressing task. That would come soon enough. First she wanted to see Cal.
The conference room door stood open only enough for her to poke her head around.
A man and a woman stood in front of a large white board with pictures stuck to the surface with magnets and markings linking some of them to dates.
The man had longish dark hair and his back was to Deme. The woman’s arms laced around his neck, pressing his head down toward hers. From their stance Deme could only conclude that they were engaged in a lip-lock.
Deme ducked back out, heat rushing into her cheeks. Oops. Someone had taken an opportunity to sneak a little nookie on the job. She’d witnessed enough clandestine assignations during her stint as a private investigator. The amount of lying and cheating had hardened her to the idea of opening her heart to a man. Until Cal had come back into her life.
She moved on, hoping to find another conference room with Cal in it. There were other rooms, but they were smaller and empty. As she turned back to the large conference room where the couple was making out, a niggle of doubt pushed into her mind.
A beautiful raven-haired woman with ice-blue eyes emerged from the room.
Wow. She was gorgeous. She was almost too pretty, with her porcelain skin, deep red lips and a mass of long loose curls framing her face. Her gaze scanned the room, lighting briefly on Deme. With a dismissive rise of her brows she turned and headed for the elevator, moving like sex in motion.
Every male and some female gazes followed the woman until she disappeared around a corner.
Deme frowned. “Good grief.” She retraced her steps to the conference room, intent on asking the man the dark-haired woman had been kissing if he knew where Cal Black could be found.
When she stepped into the room, her heart skidded to a halt, her blood freezing in her veins. The man who’d been standing with his back to her the last time she’d entered the room turned to face her, his eyes glazed, a slight frown marring his handsome brow.
Calais Black. Her partner and her lover. Make that former lover.
“Deme?” He blinked and blinked again. A smile spread across his face and his feet ate the distance between them. “When did you get in? Why didn’t you tell me you were flying in today?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.” She forced the words out around constricted vocal cords.
Hell, the surprise had been on her.
Chapter Two
Back at her apartment Deme climbed out of Cal’s SUV and slammed the door before he had a chance to shift into Park. “Don’t bother coming up. I’m sure you have better things to do.”
She’d insisted on calling a cab to take her home, but Cal had refused to let her. Now he sighed, got out of his vehicle and hurried to catch up to her. He grabbed her arm, forcing her to face him. “What’s the matter?”
“Seriously? You have to ask?” She shook off his hand and entered the building without looking back.
The short burst of happiness Cal had felt at seeing Deme had been effectively wiped away by the angry glare and brusque sentences. “Are you having second thoughts about us, again?”
“I would have had to have first thoughts. Just leave it. And leave me.” She fitted her key into the doorknob and twisted.
The door swung open. Deme stepped inside and turned to face him, blocking the entryway with her body. “You’re not welcome here.”
“Like hell.” He shoved the door open so hard it banged the wall. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell has your panties in a wad.” He closed the door behind him and leaned on it, crossing his arms over his chest. “Start talking.”
Deme threw her purse on the sofa and walked away. “And to think I’d been looking forward to seeing you.”
His heart flipped and raced on. He’d been looking forward to her return since the day she’d left. “And what changed your mind?”
“That woman, the conference room, the kiss.” Deme faced him, her hands on her hips. “Did you think I’d be happy to see you making out with another woman?”
His brows knitted together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You and the black-haired bitch in the conference room.” Deme shook her head. “Don’t play stupid with me. I saw you kissing her. You know...black hair...blue eyes...a body that doesn’t quit...”
Cal pushed his hand through his hair, trying to grasp what Deme was saying and not getting it. “The cop who transferred here from New York City? Medea?”
“Is that her name? I liked bitch better.” Deme pointed toward the door. “You can leave now.”
“I wasn’t kissing her.” Cal stalked across the floor, his gaze pinning Deme’s.
She didn’t back down, her head tipping back in order to maintain unwavering eye contact the closer he came. “Could have fooled me.”
When he stood in front of her, he took her hand, raising it to his lips. “You’re the only woman I care about.”
“Then why the kiss?” Deme’s body remained rigid.
“I don’t know what you saw, but we were discussing a murder case. That’s all.” He tipped up Deme’s chin, every ounce of his being yearning to take her into his arms and crush the anger out of her.
Her full, peach-colored lips softened, though her eyes remained narrowed. “I wasn’t imagining it.”
“Let’s start over.” He brushed her lips and sighed. “I’ve been waiting a month to do that.”
Deme swayed. The starch seemed to go out of her and she leaned against his chest. “I swear I saw you kissing her.”
“Jet lag, sweetheart. You were seeing things that wouldn’t happen. I only want to kiss you.” She felt so good in his arms. As soon as she’d pressed her breasts against his body, heat flooded his system, speeding toward his groin.
“Don’t play with me, Calais Black,” she whispered against his lips. “I don’t like games.”
“No games. But I would like to play with you.” His hands slid down her arms to the hem of her rib-knit blouse. In one long and lazy glide he hauled it up over her head and tossed it into the corner.
“Fine. But I’m only in this for the sex.” She poked a finger into his chest. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”
“Uh-huh.” He captured that finger between his lips and sucked on it, releasing it with deliberate slowness. Then he pressed his mouth to the pounding pulse at the base of her throat. “I’ve got news for you.” He flicked the catch on her bra and slid it down her arms, her naked breasts springing free. “You might only be in this relationship for the sex. But I’m in it for the long haul.”
“Whatever.” He figured she was trying for nonchalant, but the catch in her voice with that one word belied her attempt to remain unaffected. “I really don’t care why you hang around. I’ve got an itch and since you’re here, you might as well scratch it.” She shoved his leather jacket off his shoulders and it dropped to the floor with