BAD BOYS ON BOARD Read online

  He groaned.

  Immediately concerned, she leaned over him, her small hand on his brow, her sweet breath in his face. "Ohmigod, Sam. How bad are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?"

  Not unless a man could die of unfulfilled horniness. "Back off, Florence Nightingale. I'll live."

  At his insulting tone, she puckered up and smacked his shoulder, making him groan again. Damn fickle woman.

  She sat hunched over, her shoulders rounded, her forearms on her knees. Sam asked, "Did you see me in the bar?"

  "That's a stupid question." She hugged herself, staring down at her feet. "When you're in a room, you're in it. Of course I saw you."

  "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

  Giving him a sloe-eyed look, she said, "Even as a miserable drunk, you're sexy. I spotted you the second I stepped inside."

  He tried to close his ears, doing his best to tune out her stirring comments…

  "Every woman in the bar noticed you."

  "No shit?" Now that cheered him up. "I like that."

  She went back to moping.

  Sam looked around. The crowd had finally dispersed with only a few lingerers still standing around. Fuller was headed back toward him with a pen and pad, no doubt ready to take his fictitious statement just in case anyone should notice.

  He stretched out his legs and bumped his big feet into her strappy, high-heeled sandals. She had her toenails painted pink. "So tell me this, Einstein. Have you ever seen me drunk before?"

  A little wary, she said, "No."

  "But you know I'm a cop, right?"

  "Undercover. Lots of commendations. Heralded for being fearless by many, called careless by some, me included. But I know you're a good cop, Sam."

  She surprised him with that string of mixed praise and censure, making him shake his head. "Yet you came charging into what could have been a very dangerous situation."

  Her lips tightened; her shoulders hunched more. In a nearly imperceptible whisper, she grouched, "I thought you were getting hurt."

  Sam's temper snapped. "And so you thought you, a pint-sized beautician, would dash to my rescue? Ha! Do you know what could have happened to you—what could have happened to me because you got in the way?" It took all he had not to shake her. "God save me from illogical women."

  Ariel shot to her feet. "Shut up, Sam. Just … shut up." Her entire puny body vibrated with anger, and she actually stomped one small foot. "You are so incredibly insufferable with all your endless harping."

  Fuller said, "Now, now, kiddies. Let's play nice for the remaining spectators."

  Pinning her with his gaze, Sam stared at her but spoke to the officer. "Ask me a question, Fuller."

  "Right. Uh, how about…"

  "Good enough. Here's my answer. Ariel, I want to know what the hell you were doing in that damn bar. And don't give me that garbage about it being none of my business because the second you blundered into things, it became my damn business."

  Fuller pretended to write, nodding and smiling like a halfwit.

  Mutinous, Ariel looked down her nose at him. "And if I don't tell you?"

  A challenge. Sam almost rubbed his hands together. "If you don't," he said with a lot of glee, "I'll run your skinny little ass in."

  Her mouth fell open and she sputtered. "For what, exactly?"

  "Indecent exposure?" He dropped his gaze to her partially displayed breast so she wouldn't misunderstand.

  She snatched the material higher. "Pig."

  "Yeah, yeah. Real original insult for a cop. I've never heard that one before."

  She turned away, came back, glared at him. "For your information, nosey, I was making sure."

  His brows rose. "Making sure about what?"

  As if awaiting the rest of her statement, Fuller looked at her. "Go on, Miss."

  She huffed. "I was making sure there wasn't someone else who appealed to me."

  Confused, Sam asked, "Someone other than Pete?"

  Exasperation shown on her face. "Pete and I were never more than friends."

  Sam's jaw locked. "That wasn't how Pete felt."

  "And I'm responsible for that? I told him from the first day we met that I only wanted to be friends, and he agreed. When he finally admitted to me how he really felt, that he expected more, that's when I quit seeing him at all."

  "And broke his damn fool heart in the process."

  She swallowed. "I never meant to hurt him. He knows that. Besides, he's dating someone else now."

  That was news to Sam. "He is?"

  Nodding, Ariel explained, "That's why I was here. I waited until Pete found a girlfriend before…"

  "Before?"

  Her eyes narrowed. "Before making sure."

  Sam threw up his hands. The woman just refused to make sense.

  Fuller tilted his head. "I'm fascinated, really."

  Sam turned to Fuller with a growl. "Officer, haven't you got enough there?"

  "You never let me have any fun."

  "Your idea of fun must be a toothache."

  Ariel looked ready to spit. "If I'm such a pain—"

  "You are that."

  "Then I'll be on my way." Shoulders squared, her chin lifted in regal disdain, she started around Fuller.

  Sam crossed his arms. "Just where the hell do you think you're going now?"

  "Back into the bar."

  "Like that?" He nodded at her torn dress.

  "Oh." She stared down in dismay at the long rip. "Well, I suppose that might not be a good idea."

  "But jumping into the middle of a brawl is?"

  Her neck stiffened. "Brawl?" One slim brow arched high. "All I saw was you getting your butt kicked."

  Insulted, Sam snorted, but not with much conviction this time. Surely, she didn't believe such an asinine thing. He'd been undercover, damn it, unable to fight back without messing up his cover.

  But she looked serious, so he said, "You believed that act? Hey, I must be pretty good."

  "Why wouldn't I believe it? I thought you were drunk."

  She was serious. It was Sam's turn to shoot to his feet. Leaning forward in an aggressive stance, he poked a thumb into his chest. "Even drunk, I could take that guy. With one arm broken, I could flatten him. He was nothing."

  She looked at her nails. "Uh-huh."

  At the boiling point, Sam started to reach for her, and Isaac hurried over to them. "Are we putting on a damn show? There's enough melodrama over here to blow the whole damn thing."

  Ariel again turned away. "I'll get on my way then."

  Through his teeth, Sam said, "Grab her," and Isaac automatically obeyed, catching her arm and swinging her back around.

  She almost toppled off her high sandals and retaliated by clouting Isaac with that lethal purse.

  "There's another offense," Sam drawled while Isaac ducked. "Assaulting an officer."

  Very slowly, she lifted her head to fry him with a seething glare, and if looks could kill, he'd have been writhing on the ground at her feet.

  Sam grinned. From the first day he'd met her he knew she had a temper beneath all that good-girl, innocent blond pretense. "Before you hurt yourself or someone else, you can give me a ride home."

  Like a doe caught in the headlights, she went utterly still. "Why me?"

  Sam sent a telling look at Isaac's hand still wrapped around her arm. "You can let her go now."

  "Oops. Sorry." He grinned, unrepentant. "I think I'll take our thug on in."

  "Yeah," Fuller said, "as long as you have a ride, I'll take off, too. I've got everything I need." He winked at Sam.

  "Hey," Sam said, "I don't suppose you guys would—"

  Fuller raised a hand. "Consider it done. But you owe us, buddy boy."

  "Yeah, I assumed as much." He watched the two men saunter away, Fuller speaking into his radio, Isaac assuring the remaining people that the fanfare was over.

  The second they were in their cars, Sam again leaned on the brick wall. He realized his shoulder hurt, turned,
and found out his shoulder blades were tender too. And his head… He didn't even want to know about his damn head. Ariel's attack had put him down hard. His brains were probably scrambled.

  Truth was, he felt like he'd been run over by a Mack truck and standing on his own steam wasn't all that comfortable.

  Ariel looked him over, forcing him to suck it up. "What are they going to do for you that you'll owe them?"

  "Paperwork." Then, just to taunt her because he felt physically miserable and she looked as bubbly as ever, he added, "That, and they figure I might get laid if they leave me alone with you. If I did, I'll really owe them."

  Rather than look offended, she blinked twice. "Laid by who?"

  "You, sweets. They're assuming all your furious bluster has to do with sexual sparks, rather than honest dislike."

  After a long, thoughtful moment empty of protests, Ariel nodded. "My car is this way. Should I pretend to help you or is the coast clear?"

  After having her fanny on his face, he didn't want her hands anywhere near him. He had enough fodder for three wet dreams as it was. "I'll stumble my way there under my own steam, thank you very much."

  Weaving this way and that, Sam trailed behind her, suspicious over her docile agreement to drive him home, and her lack of anger over his friend's crude assumptions. He was also aware of the sway in her hips and that delectable bottom he'd already manhandled.

  Hell, half the things he wanted to do to that bottom were probably illegal in some states.

  He forced himself to look away. He had to stop drooling over her, for crying out loud. The woman was a complete and total pain the ass, only a year or two older than a teenybopper, and his baby brother's ex-girlfriend. He had to remember all that.

  Sam was none too happy when she took the liberty of opening the door for him. Worse, the car was a beat-up, banana-yellow Pinto. "I won't fit," he complained, even as he folded himself painfully inside the cramped front seat.

  She slammed the door after him, went around to the driver's side and got in. After she had the key in the ignition and the engine snarled and screamed to life, she leaned back in her seat with a sigh.

  Sam waited for her to put the car in gear and when she didn't, he asked, "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" She'd told Fuller she wasn't, but she was stubborn enough to lie about it. He should have checked for himself.

  That thought brought a shudder of excitement. Not a good idea. Not at all.

  She stared up at the ceiling. "I can't drive and hold my dress up too."

  "Ah." Forcing nonchalance, Sam shrugged and said, "Hey, I've seen every female part there is, hooters included, so unless you're unique in some mind-boggling way, it's no big deal. Don't worry about it."

  Appearing stunned by such an outpouring of nonsense, she said, "Fine," and dropped the torn material. It fell completely below her breast.

  Oh Lord. His nonchalance obliterated, Sam swallowed hard, looked away from her bra and how her nipple poked against the silky material. He did what he could to distract himself. He tried thinking about the job he'd just done, the repeat performance he had to put in tomorrow. He considered all the endless paperwork. He even tried thinking about Pete. It didn't help.

  His aching body and splitting head should have been enough to keep him off track, but there was no suppressing those pesky sexual urges. Whenever Ariel was around, they got a stranglehold on his libido.

  "Let's play some music." Sam fiddled with the radio while she pulled off the side street and into the denser flow of traffic.

  "Sure. Help yourself." Irony filled her tone since he'd already located an oldie station and turned up the volume to listen to, "Ohhhh, love to love you baby…"

  Speaking loud to be heard over Donna Summer, she asked, "Mind if I come up for a minute when we get to your place?"

  The way she said that, so casually, put Sam on edge. "Why?"

  "Don't look so suspicious. I just thought I could find some way to fasten my dress, maybe a safety-pin or something. I know you have a house, but I live in an apartment and who knows how many people will be around when I pull up. I don't want to flash the neighbors and I don't want to start a lot of gossip."

  He didn't want her flashing the neighbors either. As long as he got her in and out of his place in a hurry, it'd be okay. He could hold off that long. Maybe. "I have a sewing kit you can use."

  "You're so gracious."

  "Graciousness is hard to find when my head is splitting, thanks to your tackle."

  She stopped at a red light and turned toward him. "And here I thought you were so macho. Let me have a look."

  Without his permission she caught his left ear and turned his head. "Ouch," she said in sympathy. "It looks like you're bleeding a little."

  Reaching to the back of his head, Sam located a lump, and a spot of blood. "Damn." No wonder his head hurt so much. "It's fine," he lied. When she started to protest, he said, "Green light. Let's go."

  They were cruising right along, going about forty miles an hour when she suddenly said, "They were right, you know."

  He'd been so busy trying to ignore her warm, softly scented body beside him, her words caused him to start. "Who's that?"

  "The other officers."

  "Fuller and Isaac?"

  "I suppose. You didn't introduce me so I don't know their names."

  She made it an accusation, setting his teeth on edge. "It was hardly a social affair, if you'll recall."

  Silence reigned until he said, "All right, I give. What were they right about?"

  Without him realizing it, they'd left the main road and were now in the suburbs, close to his moderate house.

  She turned down his tree-lined lane. "You getting laid. That is…"—she hesitated, peeked a look at him, then forged on—"if you want to."

  Several things happened to Sam at once. His stomach bottomed out, his eyes widened, and his dick gave a proud salute.

  Well hell. What was she up to now?

  Chapter Two

  The silence was enough to squash her. Ariel didn't want to look at Sam again, not when her first glimpse had shown him to be anything but interested. Horrified, yes. Shocked, yes. But not interested.

  Unfortunately, whenever he was around, she couldn't seem to not look at him. From the day she'd met him, he fascinated her.

  It wasn't just his awesome physique that drew her, though that was pretty eye-catching. He was tall, muscular, mean, and lean. He had the attitude of a man in charge, spoke as if he expected to be obeyed, and had confidence down to a fine art.

  And it wasn't just his incredible, look-into-your-soul blue eyes, so different from his brothers'. Sam had inherited his mother's eyes, while both Gil and Pete looked more like their father with chocolate brown eyes. They all had inky black hair though, and thick lashes. They were all handsome—just in different ways. Gil was sophisticated, suave. Pete was fun-loving and playful.

  Sam was all basic male, rough-edged and rugged and keenly capable of handling any lethal situation.

  He was also a pretty nice guy, though his gruff manner and burdening responsibility often hid that fact. Best of all, he was a bonified hero through and through. When his family needed him, he stepped up to the plate without complaints. On the job, he did what had to be done to make things right. His brothers looked up to him, his mother depended on him, and his fellow officers respected him. He was like Superman only real. And sexier.

  Finally, with an uncertain laugh, Sam said, "Come again?"

  Ariel cleared her throat. His tone of disbelief didn't exactly bode well, but she'd made up her mind. "You know when I said I went to the bar to be sure?"

  "Yeah, right. Sure there wasn't anyone else—whatever the hell that means."

  "It means I wanted to be sure there wasn't anyone else who appealed to me. But there isn't. That's the third bar I've been in this week."

  A thundercloud would appear passive next to his darkening expression. "You've been hanging out in bars?" His teeth actually clenched, fascinatin
g her. "Do you have any idea what's been happening around the area bars lately?"

  She hadn't, but judging by what he'd done tonight, she assumed some muggings were taking place. Because she didn't want a lecture, she just shrugged.

  His eyes turned red.

  To pacify him, she pointed out her other visits. "I've also been to two nightclubs, the grocery, the park, and three concerts. Sorry, but there is no one else who appeals to me." She drew a long breath and admitted the stark truth. "You're the only one."

  At that moment, Sam looked to be choking on murderous intent.

  "Say something."

  He didn't, he just sat there, steam coming off his head while his face colored and his fists curled. Ariel honestly didn't know if he fought the urge to take her or strangle her. Not that she was afraid of him. Never.

  Sam protected people—he didn't abuse them.

  Because she and Pete had stopped by his house once, she knew where he lived. She pulled into the blacktop drive and turned off the car. She didn't at first look at him, not when it felt like he was frying her with his gaze. When she finally worked up the nerve, she turned to him.

  "Well?"

  Through his teeth, he snarled, "Inside."

  Oh good. At least he wasn't throwing her off his property already. She considered his grudging command a positive step. Slipping out of her car, she managed to hold her dress up, drop her keys into her purse, and close the door. Sam made no gentlemanly moves toward her, but then, he was badly beaten up.

  She loved his old two-story house. It had a poured front porch complete with an overhang and wooden swing. The shrubbery was original and thick and outdated, but it made a nice contrast against the red brick. Enormous oaks lined the street and during the day, squirrels scurried everywhere.

  At his father's death, he'd inherited a large sum of money. She didn't doubt that Sam could have afforded a posh, upscale home in an exclusive neighborhood. She was glad he hadn't moved.

  When she reached Sam's side, he took her arm in an implacable grip and started her in a trot toward the front door. Some elderly neighbors in the house to the right hailed him, forcing him to stop.