Falling For Rachel - Stanislaskis 3 Part 6

"You'd like it." He skimmed his fingers lightly down her arm. "It's what you might call an outlet."

Rachel decided it was safer not to comment. When they reached her building, she turned to him, holding out a hand for her briefcase.

"Thanks for the flowers, and the walk. I'll probably come by the bar tomorrow after work and look in on Nick."

Instead of giving her the briefcase, he closed his hand over hers. "I took the night off, Rachel. I want to spend it with you."

Her quick jolt of alarm both pleased and amused him. "Excuse me?"

"Maybe I should rephrase that. I'd like to spend the night with you- several nights running, in fact-but I'll settle for the evening." He managed to wind a lock of her hair around his finger before she remembered to bat his hand away. "Some food, some music. I know a place that does both really well. If the idea of a date makes you nervous..."

"I'm not nervous." Not exactly, she thought.

"Anyway, we can consider it a few hours between two people who have a mutual interest. It couldn't hurt if we got to know each other a little better." He pulled out his trump card. "For Nick's sake."

She studied him, much as she had the witness she'd so ruthlessly cross- examined earlier. "You want to spend the evening with me for Nick's sake?"

Giving up, he grinned. "h.e.l.l, no. There's bound to be some spillover benefit there, but I want to spend the evening with you for purely selfish reasons."

"I see. Well, since you didn't perjure yourself, I may be able to cut a deal. It has to be an early evening, somewhere I can dress comfortably.

And you won't..." How had he phrased it? "Get pushy."

"You're a tough one, Counselor."

"You got it."

"Deal," he said, and gave her the briefcase.

"Fine. Come back in twenty minutes. I'll be ready."

A bar, Rachel thought a half hour later. She should have known Zack would spend his night off on a busman's holiday. Actually, she supposed it was more of a club. There was a three-piece band playing the blues on a small raised stage, and there were a handful of couples dancing on a tiny square of floor surrounded by tables. From the way he was greeted by the waitress, he was obviously no stranger. Within moments they were settled at a table in a shadowy corner, with a gla.s.s of wine for her and a mug of beer for him.

"I come for the music," he explained. "But the food's good, too. That's not something I mention to Rio."

"Since I've seen the way he slices a club sandwich, I can't hold that against you." She squinted at the tiny menu. "What do you recommend?"

"Trust me." His thigh brushed hers as he s.h.i.+fted closer to toy with the stones dangling at her ear. He smiled at her narrowed eyes. "And try the grilled chicken."

She discovered he could be trusted, at least when it came to food.

Enjoying every bite, lulled by the music, she began to relax. "You said the navy was a family tradition. Is that why you joined, really?"

"I wanted to get out." He nursed a second beer, appreciating the way she plowed through the meal. He'd always been attracted to a woman with an appet.i.te. "I wanted to see the world. I only figured on the four years, but then I re-upped."

"Why?"

"I got used to being part of a crew, and I liked the life. Looking out and seeing nothing but water, or watching the land pull away when you headed out. Coming into port and seeing a place you'd never seen before."

"In nearly ten years I imagine you saw a lot of places."

"The Mediterranean, the South Pacific, the Indian Ocean, the Persian Gulf. Froze my... fingers off in the North Atlantic and watched sharks feed in the Coral Sea." Both fascinated and amused, she propped her elbows on the table. "Did you know you didn't mention one land ma.s.s? Doesn't one body of water look pretty much like another from the deck of a s.h.i.+p?''

"No." He didn't think he could explain, knew he wasn't lyrical enough to describe the varying hues of the water, the subtle degrees of the power of the deep. What it felt like to watch dolphins run, or whales sound. "I guess you could say that a body of water has its own personality, just like a body of land does."

"You do miss it."

"It gets in your blood. How about you? Is the law a Stanislaski family tradition?"

"No." Under the table, her foot began to tap to the beat of the ba.s.s. "My father's a carpenter. So was his father."

"Why law?"

"Because I'd grown up in a family who'd known oppression. They escaped Ukraine with what they could carry in a wagon-in the winter through the mountains-eventually reaching Austria. I was born here, the first of my family to be born here."

"It sounds as though you regret it."

He was astute, she decided. More astute than she'd given him credit for.

"I suppose I regret not being a part of both sides. They haven't forgotten what it was like to taste freedom for the first time. I've never known anything but freedom. Freedom and justice go hand in hand."

"Some might say you could be serving justice in a nice, cushy law firm."

"Some might." "You had offers." When her brows lifted, he shrugged. "You're representing my brother. I checked on you. Graduated top of your cla.s.s at NYCC, pa.s.sed the bar first shot, then turned down three very lucrative offers from three very prestigious firms to work for peanuts as a public defender. I had to figure either you were crazy or dedicated."

She swallowed a little bubble of temper and nodded. "And you left the navy with a chestful of medals, including the Silver Star. Your file includes, along with a few reprimands for insubordination, a personal letter of grat.i.tude from an admiral for your courage during a rescue at sea in a hurricane." Enjoying his squirm of embarra.s.sment, she lifted her gla.s.s in toast. "I checked, too."

"We were talking about you," he began.

"No. You were." Smiling, she cupped her chin on her hand. "So tell me, Muldoon, why did you turn down a shot at officer candidate school?"

"Didn't want to be a d.a.m.n officer," he muttered. Rising, he grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet. ''Let's dance."

She chuckled as he dragged her onto the crowded dance floor. "You're blus.h.i.+ng."

"I am not. And shut up."

Rachel tucked her tongue in her cheek. "It must be h.e.l.l being a hero."

"Here's the deal." Zack held her lightly by the arms on the edge of the dance floor. "You drop the stuff about medals and admirals, and I won't mention that you were cla.s.s valedictorian."

She thought it over. "Fair enough. But I think-"

He pulled her into his arms. "Stop thinking." It did the trick, all right. The moment she found herself pressed hard against him, her mind clicked off. She could still hear the music, the low, seductive alto sax, the pulse of the ba.s.s, the slow rhythms of the piano notes, but rational thought vanished.

They weren't dancing. Rachel was certain no one would call this locked- hard, swaying embrace a dance. But it would be foolish to try to pull away when there was so little room. Breathing wasn't all that important, after all.

Not when you could feel your own heart slamming against your ribs.

She hadn't intended to wind her arms quite so firmly around his neck, but now that they were there, there seemed little point in moving them.

Besides, if she skimmed her fingers up just a bit, they could trail through his hair so that she could discover how fascinating that silky contrast was compared to the rock-hard body molded to hers.

"You fit." He bent his head so that his mouth was against her ear. "I was a little too wound up to be sure the other night. But I thought you would."

The subtle movements of his lips against her skin had her s.h.i.+vering before she could prevent it. "What?''

"Fit," he said again, letting his hands follow those curvy lines down to her hips and back again.

"That's only because I'm standing on my toes."

"Honey, height doesn't have a thing to do with it." He rubbed his cheek against her hair, filling himself with the scent, the texture. "You feel right, you smell right, you taste right."

Shaken, she turned her head before his mouth could finish its journey down the side of her face. "I could have you arrested for trying to seduce me in a public place." "That's all right. I know a good lawyer." He trailed his fingers under the back of her soft wool sweater to the heated skin beneath.

Her breath caught, then released unsteadily. "They'll have us both arrested."

"I'll post bail." There was nothing but Rachel under the sweater, he was sure of it. His mouth went dry as dust. "I want you alone." Biting off a groan, he dipped his head to press his lips to her neck. "Do you know what I'd do to you right now if I had you alone?"

She shook her swimming head. "We should sit down. We shouldn't do this."

"I want to touch you, every inch of you. And taste you. I want to make you crazy."

He already was. If she didn't manage to slow things down, her overcharged system was likely to explode. "Two steps back," she said on a long breath, and took just that. His hands remained at her waist, but at least she could breathe again. At least she managed two gulps of air before she looked into his eyes and the breath backed up in her lungs again. "Too much, too fast, Muldoon. I'm not a spontaneous type of person."

What she was was a volcano ready to erupt. He was d.a.m.n sure going to be there when the ground started to shake. But he didn't intend to scare her off, either. "Hey, you want time. I can give you an hour. Two, if you really want me to suffer."

She shook her head, edging back to the table. "Let's just say I'll let you know if and when I'm ready to take this any further."

"She wants me to suffer," Zack said under his breath. When she didn't sit, he reached for his wallet. "I take it we're leaving." "An early evening," she reminded him. And she wanted badly to get outside, where the air could cool her blood.

"A deal's a deal." He tossed bills onto the table. "Why don't we walk back? A little exercise might help us both sleep tonight."

A twenty-block hike, Rachel mused. It couldn't hurt.

"Cold?" he asked a short time later.

"No. It's nice." But he slipped an arm around her shoulders anyway. "I don't often get a chance to just walk. Mostly it's a dash from my place to the office, from the office to the courthouse."

"What do you do when you're not das.h.i.+ng?"

"Oh, I go to the movies, window-shop, visit the family.

In fact, I was thinking it might be good for Nick to go with me one Sunday. Have some of Mama's home cooking, listen to one of Papa's stories, see how my brothers hara.s.s me."

"Just Nick?"

She slanted him a look. "I suppose we could make room for Nick's brother."

"It's been a long time since I-since either of us had a family meal. How about the cop? I can't see him piping us aboard."

"I'll handle Alex." Now that she'd suggested it, her mind began to turn quickly. "You know, Natasha and her family are due to visit in a couple of weeks. Things will be crowded and crazy. It might be the perfect opportunity to toss Nick into your not-so-average-family type of situation. I'll see what I can work out."

"I know I thanked you before, but I don't think I know how to tell you how much I appreciate what you're doing for him." "The court-"

"That's bilge, Rachel." They reached the steps of her building, and he turned her to face him. "You're not just filing weekly reports or representing a client. You put yourself out for Nick right from the start."

"Okay, so I've got a weak spot for bad boys. Don't let it get around."

"No, what you've got is cla.s.s, and a good heart." He liked the way she looked in the shadowy light, the vitality that pulsed from her like breath, the snap of energy and embarra.s.sment in her eyes. "It's a tough combination to beat."

She shrugged under his hands. "Now you're going to make me blush, Muldoon, so let's not get sloppy. If things work out the way we want, you can buy me more flowers at the end of the two months. We'll call it square." He let her back up one step, but then held her firm. She was uneasy, but she wasn't surprised. "Listen, it's been nice, but..."

"I don't figure you're going to ask me in."

"No," she said definitely, remembering how her body had reacted to him in a crowded club. "I'm not."

"So I'll just have to take care of this out here."

"Zack..."

"You know I'm not going to let you go without kissing you, Rachel." To tease them both, he skimmed his lips over her jaw. "Especially when I only have to touch you to know all the want's not on my side."

"This is never going to work," she murmured, but her arms were already sliding around him.

"Sure it will. We just put our lips together, and what happens happens." This time she knew what to expect, and braced. It made no difference at all. The same heat, the same rush, the same power. The same reckless, unrelenting need. Had she said it was too much? No, it wasn't enough.

She was afraid she could never get enough. How could she have lived her entire life without knowing what it was to be truly needy?

"I'm not getting involved this way," she murmured against his mouth.

"Not with you. Not with anyone."

"Okay. Fine." Ruthlessly, he dragged her head back and plundered. A flash fire erupted between them until he felt singed down to the bone. He all but whimpered when she nipped impatiently at his lower lip. Images began to cartwheel in his head-him scooping her up and carrying her inside, falling with her into a big, soft bed. Making love with her on some white, deserted beach, with the sun beating down on her naked, golden skin. Waves pounding against the sh.o.r.e as she cried out his name.

"Hey, buddy."

The voice behind him was nothing more than an irritating buzzing in his head. Zack would cheerfully have ignored it, but he felt the slight p.r.i.c.k of a knife at his back.

Keeping Rachel behind him, he turned and looked into the pale, sooty- eyed face of the mugger.

"How about I let you keep the babe, and you hand over your wallet?

Hers, too." The mugger turned the knife so that the backwash of the streetlight caught the steel. "And let's make it fast."

Blocking Rachel with his body, Zack reached in his back pocket. He could hear Rachel's unsteady breathing as she unzipped her bag. It wasn't impulse, but instinct. The moment the mugger's eyes s.h.i.+fted, Zack lunged. With a scream in her throat and the Mace in her hand, Rachel watched them struggle. She saw the knife flash, heard the awful crunch of fist against bone before the blade clattered to the sidewalk. Then the mugger was racing off into the dark, and she and Zack were as alone as they'd been seconds before.