Faceless Page 6

Damn. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip before she could stop the old habit. She hadn’t done that in years … hadn’t permitted that slithering insecurity to make her feel … afraid. She snatched back her courage. No fear. Play on his sympathy. Men were suckers for a woman in jeopardy.

  “I need your help.” If he refused to listen, she still had options, however unappealing. “This”—she indicated the file on his desk—“is a conspiracy. The very men you hold in great esteem are railroading me to cover their own crimes.” That was a vast understatement.

  Fury raged in his eyes, etched into the granite of his jaw. She wasn’t getting through. “I’m telling you the truth.” She had to make him see. “I have no reason to lie to you, Mr. Tanner.”

  “Really?” He planted his hands on his hips. “You follow me to a bar. Come up with that wild proposition and then show up here like this—on the same day I’m assigned to investigate your activities.” He shook his head, his disgust crystal clear. “I don’t know, but that sounds a little manufactured to me.”

  “I knew you’d get the case,” she confessed. “You’re the best.” Selecting a distant memory, she used it to summon tears. “I didn’t know what else to do. I was scared.” She searched his eyes for a glimmer of compassion. “I made a mistake.” That was a lie but he couldn’t prove it. “You’re the only person who can help me.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “I know all about you, Carson Tanner.” His anger seemed to abate the tiniest bit. “You’re the Avenger. The man who never loses. The deputy district attorney poised to succeed Wainwright.” Such a handsome man for a prosecutor, too. Dark hair, equally dark eyes. Classic jawline, nice lips. The whole package. Just a little too trusting. But he would learn that trust was another thing vastly overrated.

  “Get out.” The words were as ruthlessly relayed as the glare he now aimed at her.

  Any compassion she’d hoped for vanished in that same instant. Oh well. There was always plan B. She walked around him, his gaze tracking her every move, and scooted onto the edge of the desk. The hem of her dress slid to the tops of her thighs. His attention went straight there as if he had no authority over his own eyes. So very predictable. She crossed one meticulously toned leg over the other. He swallowed with difficulty.

  Whatever it takes.

  “All I want is justice,” she implored, tracing with one red-nailed finger the deep neckline that exposed her cleavage. His gaze followed the path of that finger.

  As if he’d just snapped from a trance, his expression darkened with fury once more. “I sincerely doubt that you know a whole hell of a lot about justice, lady.”

  “I know many things, Mr. Tanner.” His remark should have pissed her off, but she’d expected that and worse. “Don’t mistake what I do for what I know.”

  “I’m asking you to leave.” He stepped directly into her personal space. “It’ll be considerably easier if you leave of your own volition rather than forcing me to call security.”

  “You’re the defender of the underdog, the champion of truth,” she insisted, taking the statement word for word from recent headlines. “Don’t you want to hear my truth?” He wasn’t fooled for a second. She read the derision on his face as easily as picking up a Cosmo at the checkout counter.

  “That’s what they say,” he said, those straight white teeth practically clenched. “I’m sure you’ll be able to see for yourself over the course of the next few months while I’m dragging you through legal proceedings.” He wrapped the fingers of his right hand around her arm, careful not to apply excessive pressure. “Let me show you to the door.”

  Time to play hardball. “Where’s the passion I felt last night?” she challenged. “A man with that much passion surely can’t stand idly by and watch an innocent person destroyed.” She toyed with his tie, the same one he’d worn last night, no doubt reminding him of those hours. His nostrils flared. “That would be a travesty, wouldn’t it?”

  “Back off.”

  Nice roar, but it would take more than that to scare her off. She molded her hand to the front of his trousers, squeezed his hard cock. “I know you want me.”

  “That’s it.” Carson had to get her out of here. Even as the thought formed in his brain she uncrossed her legs and spread them wide apart. His gaze zeroed in on the juncture between her thighs.

  He blinked. Told himself to breathe. Didn’t happen.

  She wasn’t wearing panties. Soft, blond pubes gleamed against her tanned skin.

  Security. He should call now. Get her out of here.

  “Perhaps”—she licked her lips—“I mistook desperation for passion.”

  Fury bolted. His grip tightened in anticipation of hauling her ass out the door. “I’m not going to cross that line with you again. Now go.” The term assault and battery abruptly dampened the fiery rage. He released her. Dropped his hands to his sides and ordered himself to keep them there.

  “I know you want to fuck me.” She glanced at the front of his trousers. “It’s not like you haven’t done it already.”

  He reached for the phone again. She diverted his hand, pressed it against her hot, damp cunt. Want pumped through his arteries. She was so damned hot. And wet.

  “Feel that.” She moaned. “That’s all for you.”

  Reason almost deserted him for a second time since finding her in his office. He grabbed it back, wrenched his hand away from her body. “I … won’t … fuck … you,” he growled even as his erection strained against his fly.

  “Yes … you … will.” She grabbed him by the waist, pulled him closer, and wrenched open his trousers just enough to reach inside. She stroked him, squeezed and tugged. He groaned. Couldn’t help himself.

  He was out of his damned mind.

  “Get out now,” he demanded, backing away and wrestling with his trousers. His hands shook with need. He couldn’t think. It was insane.

  She stared at him. Didn’t make a move to go, didn’t allow a single emotion to slip past her flawless composure. “If you won’t do the job, I’ll just do it myself.”

  Before he could fathom her intent, she reclined fully on his desk, heedless of the papers and photos there. Her slender fingers caressed that intimate dampness, tunneled inside. She whimpered as if this wasn’t the first time she’d had to indulge herself; as if she knew just how to do it.

  The oxygen evacuated his lungs. If he called security now, and they saw her here like this … shit!

  Her body writhed sensually. His mouth went dry. Dammit. Just walk out. But sensitive files were here … beneath her. Her moans grew frenzied. His cock throbbed with need.

  She cried out. Locked the heels of her stilettos on the edge of his desk as her movements became more frantic.

  No more.

  He stepped between her spread thighs, leaned in, and grabbed her by the shoulders to yank her upright. Bad decision. For several seconds he couldn’t move. Immobilized in that erotic position, overwhelmed by the scent of her body … by the need to stab into her.

  She fisted her fingers in his shirtfront. “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

  Fury ignited. His fingers bit into her arms with the need to shake the hell out of her. “It … won’t … happen … again.”

  She stared at him, her expression cold even as she smiled in triumph. “Yes, it will.”

  Confusion, frustration, another burst of anger—it all bombarded him along with the adrenaline-charged lust. “Just go.” He closed his eyes and told himself to release her and back away. But he couldn’t move.

  The door opened.

  “Hey, man, I—”

  Keller Luttrell stared at Carson, then at the woman sprawled on his desk in front of him. “Sorry, man.” Luttrell executed an about-face and cleared the room before Carson could utter a word. The door banged shut.

  Carson released her, frantically righted his clothes.

  She draped her legs over the edge of the desk, lifted into a sitting position, then hopped off. “I suppose tha
t was my cue to go.”

  “Don’t approach me again without an official invitation,” he warned. Too many violent emotions to label roiled inside him. He was a goddamned idiot! “If you do, I’ll file charges.”

  She straightened her dress and stared at him, cool, utterly collected. “You’ll change your mind.”

  He twisted his belt into place, struggling with the need to kick his own ass. “Whatever you think you’re doing,” he advised, “is over. If I have to step aside on this one, I will.”

  She laughed softly, brushed a wisp of hair back from her cheek. “Like that’s going to happen.” She skirted his desk and walked deliberately toward the door, her hips swaying provocatively.

  Idiocy seized first chair in his brain. “Whatever there is to find on you,” he threatened, “I will find it. And then you’ll talk or you’ll do the time.”

  She paused at the door and turned back to him, that unreadable smile still in place. “I’m sure you’ll try. But keep in mind, I know things that could bring down this entire office. You walk away and I’ll do just that. I want you on this case.”

  Lies. All of it. If she had anything on this office, she would have used it to stop this investigation before it started. “Get out.”

  “Just one question.”

  “We have nothing else to discuss, Ms. Baxter.”

  “Tell me, Tanner, when did you stop caring about the truth?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer.

  She left.

  Her question delayed the action he knew he had to take next. He had to square this with Luttrell. Yet … what she’d said nagged at him. Hadn’t Stokes made a similar statement? Tell me, Tanner, when did you stop caring about the truth?

  Instinct nudged him. Dread trickled. How could she have known?

  He’d worry about that later. For now, damage control was his top priority. Carson found his friend in the supply room at the Xerox machine.

  “Look,” Carson said, his head bowed a moment before meeting his colleague’s eyes, “I want to apologize for what you walked in on. It wasn’t—”

  Luttrell waved his hands in front of him as if erasing the whole matter. “Hey, you don’t have to apologize to me. I’m just glad you’re finally getting some.”

  Uncertainty gave Carson an instant’s pause. Shit. Luttrell did think the worst. Baxter being in his office was bad enough. “You don’t understand. She was—”

  “I didn’t get a look at her face.” Luttrell shrugged. “But judging by those gorgeous legs and what I saw of her fine ass, I’d say you have yourself a hot one on your hands.” He growled like a horny beast. “I haven’t banged a chick in that position in weeks.”

  Carson took a deep breath for the first time in about ten minutes. He would never convince his colleague that he hadn’t been going at it. The good news was that Luttrell hadn’t identified her. “Well.” Carson cleared his throat. “There’s a time and place for everything. I fell down in both categories.”

  Luttrell clapped him on the back. “Pussy’s pussy, man. Take it when and where you can. We won’t be young and single forever.”

  A laugh choked out of Carson’s throat. “There is that.”

  “You had dinner yet?” Luttrell grabbed his original documents and the copies he’d made. “I was out with a client, but we never got around to dinner. I had to run back here and pick up a file.” He shoved the documents into the briefcase lying next to the Xerox. “You wanna get a bite?”

  Carson grappled to regain some semblance of composure. “Sure.”

  Luttrell talked enough for the two of them as they stopped by Carson’s office to lock up, then exited the building. For once Carson didn’t care. He was just thankful that his colleague had no clue the woman caught in such a compromising position with him was Annette Baxter.

  Carson had never really believed in luck. He’d always insisted he made his own with intelligence, preparation and persistence.

  But tonight, it seemed luck had taken pity on him because he damned sure hadn’t been capable of generating his own.

  10:30 PM

  2402 Altadena Road, Tanner residence

  Carson had almost put the incident behind him by the time he reached home. That a car sat in his driveway surprised him. He almost never had company. Unless it was Luttrell—and it wouldn’t be. He didn’t recognize the silver Camry. Someone sat silhouetted on the front porch steps just out of the overhead light’s reach.

  Female?

  His heart prematurely contracted.

  Couldn’t be Baxter. She drove a Lexus.

  He let go a big breath as he turned into the drive, braked next to the Camry, and put his BMW into park. His visitor rose from the step. The light fell across her, giving him a glimpse of her face.

  Elizabeth?

  A dozen questions ran through his mind as he emerged, briefcase in hand. The last of his raging emotions and the accompanying tension drained away.

  “Hey.” She glanced across the yard to the quiet street before meeting his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind my stopping by unannounced.”

  Carson closed the car door. “You’re always welcome here, Elizabeth.” A genuine smile tugged at his lips. How long had it been since he’d come home and found her waiting for him like this? Fifteen years? But then home had been home. The place where his family had died. Not a hollow house that stood empty except for when he showered and slept.

  That old but too-familiar pain squeezed his chest.

  So much had changed after that day.

  Elizabeth moved down a step. “Reminds me of old times.”

  No kidding. He followed the sidewalk to where she waited. “Very old times.”

  “It was good to see you today.” She descended the final step. “I can’t believe I’ve been home for two years and we’ve hardly bumped into each other.”

  “Work keeps me busy.” That part was accurate if not the reason he had avoided running into her. Seeing her reminded him too acutely of all that he had lost. Of all that might have been if fate hadn’t royally screwed him.

  She surveyed his house. The automatic exterior lights included in the landscaping highlighted the daring, modern architecture. “I approve.” Her gaze met his once more. “You did every single thing you said you would, including achieving the high-profile career.”

  High-end house in the exclusive neighborhood. Flashy car. Fast-tracked career. He’d dreamed of having it all. Including Elizabeth. But thanks to Stokes she was the one thing, in addition to his family, he would never have.

  Going there was pointless. “You’re one to talk.” He sat his briefcase on the lowest step, took off his jacket one arm at a time before draping it over the banister, then loosened his tie. “A graduate of Wellesley. Deputy mayor of this thriving metropolis.” He gave her the nod, the one that said how much he admired her accomplishments. “Two years back home and you’re Birmingham’s princess. The whole city loves you.”

  Elizabeth set a new standard for involvement in the community. Her fund-raising work was unparalleled. Carson fully expected that when her father retired from the Senate in a few years, she would step up to the plate and win his seat. No one was more deserving.

  She waved off his praise. “You can’t put any stock in all that media hoopla, Carson. Here today, gone tomorrow.”

  “Now you’re being modest.” The idea that they were still standing outside hit him square on the forehead. Jesus, what was wrong with him? “Hey, why don’t you come inside and we’ll have coffee … or something.”

  “I should go.” Elizabeth hugged her arms around her waist. “It’s late. I was just thinking of you and thought I’d look you up. It was a little spur-of-the-moment. I didn’t really plan on stopping … or staying.” She gestured to his briefcase. “I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on.”

  He looked from the briefcase to her. “It can wait a few minutes.”

  For ten or so seconds she contemplated his invitation before allowing him to see regret in
her eyes. “I have an early meeting tomorrow.” She reached up and hugged him. “Next time,” she whispered near his ear.

  He watched her walk away, part of him wishing he could say something to make her stay. They needed to talk, to catch up on all the years yawning between them. But she was right, it was late. Far too late for them. And starting down that path would only resurrect too much hurt … too many memories.

  “Hey!”

  He shook off the troubling thoughts. “Did you forget something?”

  She backed the final steps to her car. “I’m getting a dog.” Her smile widened to a grin. “Finally.”

  He frowned, tried to think how that was significant.

  “Remember,” she went on, her hand fumbling behind her for her door, “I could never keep a pet because of Mother’s allergies.”

  Wait … yes, he did remember. The family had tried several pets, and they’d each eventually had to go. Elizabeth and Dane had been devastated each time.

  “That’s great. What breed?”

  “A Lab.” She opened her car door. “My favorite. I’ve always wanted a big old chocolate Lab. I have my own place now, there’s nothing stopping me.”

  With all that was going on in his life, he had to laugh at the idea of discussing a new pet with Elizabeth. She sent a look of confusion in his direction.

  “Are you laughing at me, Carson Tanner?”

  He shook his head. “Absolutely not.” He choked back the mirth but couldn’t drag the goofy grin off his face.

  “Just for that you can accompany me to the Newton Ball on Sunday night.”

  All signs of amusement evaporated. Did he hear her correctly? “Do what?”

  She was the one grinning now. “Be my escort. The fund-raiser for the Museum of Art. Sunday night, eight o’clock. You can pick me up at seven thirty. Don’t be late.”

  Elizabeth got into her car, wiggled her fingers at him, and then drove away. Carson waved, watching as her taillights disappeared into the night.

  Sunday night. He and Elizabeth.

  Whoa.

  Another smile pulled at his lips.

  It had been years since he’d given much if any thought to a personal life. Maybe it was time for that to change.