Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3), Page 5

  And that fact was still a distant second to her having enjoyed those stolen moments on the dark dance floor.

  Enjoyed. Ha.

  Polly’s mouth became so parched, she couldn’t swallow. With shaking fingers, she reached for the tea bag and dunked it into the lukewarm water. She cast a glance around the half-empty diner, positive everyone could see residual lust coming off her body like steam. Until now, she’d hidden inside the excuse that shunning the physical attraction between her and Austin was necessary so he wouldn’t win. She’d prided herself on being able to resist him when he was accustomed to getting everything he wanted so easily, with a few practiced lines and a smile. Apparently she’d been lying to herself, because even with his incredible looks neatly disguised, she’d been scored by fire the moment he touched her.

  There had been a moment that morning while piecing the previous night’s events together where she’d placed the blame for her enthusiastic participation in their dance-floor make-out session on the sedative. But as her head cleared beneath the shower spray, she’d felt it. Desire climbing up her thighs and setting up shop in her stomach, tickling out like a fistful of feathers. Even now, recalling the way he’d planted his hands above her and let her look, biceps flexing against the backdrop of the writhing dance floor. The way he’d groaned at her exploring touch. His…his stiff, protruding erection.

  Yeah. Austin might have been playing a part—for what reason, she intended to find out—but there’d been no pretense on either of their parts during the kissing.

  You want to order me around?

  Polly took a long sip of cold tea, a paltry attempt to cool herself down. That question, posed with such gruff desperation, haunted her. Made her insides vibrate like a tuning fork. What would it be like to wield control over a man like Austin? She’d never attempted to impose her will in bed, except for a few rare occasions when she’d dipped her toe in and been greeted with laughter. There was no shaking the bone-deep intuition that Austin would respond the way she’d once fantasized about a man doing, but had never experienced. The way his eyes had slid closed when she shoved the T-shirt into his mouth…the memory had Polly crossing her legs together and swallowing a groan.

  What. A bastard. For taking a chunk out of her pride. For making her want him even more. For knowing exactly the buttons to push. How? How had he known what would make him infinitely more irresistible to her?

  She meant to give Austin straight-up hell as soon as she shook the heavy cloak of humiliation. Other than the shame living in her gut just knowing that he’d bested her, the only thing keeping her from tracking Austin down right this moment—before the sun had even completely risen—was the fact that she’d been fully clothed upon waking. If he’d removed so much as one high heel, it would be lodged in the side of his neck by now.

  That satisfying image popped like a bubble when Erin fell into the booth across the table, lifted her hands like she’d just won an Olympic race, and shouted, “Pancakes!”

  “Good morning to you, too.” Polly lifted her mug of tea for another sip, but grimaced and set it back down. “You know, they hate us in here. Between you setting napkins on fire and me having a staring contest with the wall, we’re bound to be voted off the Denny’s island sooner or later.”

  “Listen to me very carefully.” Erin leaned forward. “Is the wall talking back yet? I can coach you through this.”

  Polly considered saying yes, just so Erin could distract her with imaginary wall communication instructions, but she shook her head. “So far, it’s giving me the silent treatment.”

  “Consider yourself lucky.”

  The waitress approached the table and refilled Polly’s tea mug with steaming water. Polly gave a grateful nod and refocused on Erin, who was silently mouthing pancakes at the server. “What are you doing out of bed this early?”

  Erin shrugged. “I heard you leaving and wanted a short stack. Slipped out without waking up Connor.” Grinning, she rubbed her hands together. “He’s going to hate that.”

  Polly lifted an eyebrow. “And that makes you gleeful?”

  “No, I just like the reminder that I’ve still got it.”

  “I don’t think your ability to escape undetected was ever in question,” Polly said, wishing she had another tea bag. Just another reason to want to punch Austin in the nut sack at the first opportunity. “Although I’m sure Connor wishes you were slightly less adept at sneaking out.”

  “He understands. Most of the time.” The blonde’s forehead wrinkled. “Plus, when I give him the slip, he knows I’ll let him tie me up later to make up for it.”

  “You know, that was far more information than I needed.”

  Erin craned her neck to look at the kitchen, obviously searching for her pancakes. “You probably already hacked into his bank account and saw the multiple trips to Home Depot.” She produced a lighter from her pocket and flicked on the flame. “J’accuse.”

  “Are we speaking French now?” Polly hid her laugh with a cough. “I suppose anything is better than Russian.”

  The waitress set a plate full of pancakes in front of Erin, eyeballing the still-lit lighter as she did so. “Anything else?”

  “Yes, please. A Lumberjack Slam to go. For my man.” Erin looked smug as she reached for the syrup. “Coincidentally, ‘lumberjack slam’ is the name of what he’s got planned for later, so don’t come a’ knockin’.”

  “I’ll do my best to resist.”

  They sat in silence while Erin took her first few bites of pancakes, until the blonde finally spoke, gesturing toward Polly with her syrupy fork. “You’re still wearing your fake eyelashes from last night.”

  Polly didn’t so much as flinch. “Last night?”

  Erin chuckled. “Okay, if that’s how you want to play it.” Another bite of pancake. Another long chew-filled pause. “I heard two sets of footsteps in the hallway last night and saw Austin carrying you inside. That’s the real reason I’m here so early. I was…worried. Not a good look for me, Banks.”

  Every once in a while, Polly was reminded that Erin was far more astute than she allowed the world to believe. Usually, when Erin decided to drop that knowledge on someone, it amused Polly. Or gave her an odd sense of pride. But being on the receiving end of that perception sucked. It also made her wonder what else Erin knew. “Did you talk to him?”

  A slim hesitation, before Erin started to sing under her breath. “Not last night, but the night before…twenty-four robbers came knocking at my door…”

  “Erin, stop evading.”

  She stabbed her fork into the pancakes, leaving it standing upright as she fell back against the leather booth. “This is why friendship is bullshit. I wish I’d never met you.”

  “Fair enough. Just tell me what you know.”

  “I didn’t mean that. It was the syrup talking.” Erin flipped the lighter over in her hand. “Austin made me set off your smoke alarm the other night. I don’t know why, so don’t quiz me. He said you were in trouble, so I did it. And it was fun, if you want to know the truth.”

  Polly’s molars ground together until pain shot through her jaw. God, the embarrassment just kept on giving. After last night, how the hell hadn’t she put Austin at the scene of an unconscious Slim? Polly was bombarded with realizations, flying toward her from all corners. He’d been following her longer than one night. Did he really think she was in danger? How could he when no one was privy to Polly’s plans but herself? “What did he promise you in exchange?”

  “A Ruger.” Erin pouted. “And thanks to my new, inconvenient conscience, I won’t be able to accept it. So thanks.”

  “Forgive my lack of guilt.” Polly stuck her pinkie into the mug of tea, wishing it were hot enough to burn. “Next time you see an unknown man carrying my passed-out body down the hallway, alert the cavalry, will you?”

  “It wasn’t an unknown man. It was Austin.”

  “How did you know it was Austin? He was wearing a disguise.”

  Erin
ran her tongue across the front of her teeth. “The way he looked at you.”

  Polly’s hand crept up to her throat before she forced it down into her lap. “How is tha— Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  “Yes, you do.” Erin squished her lips together and wiggled them like a fish. “Remember prison?”

  Discomfort invaded, but she squashed it back into her mental filing cabinet. “It’s hard to forget.”

  “Iknowright?” Erin made a humming noise. “You know those days when other prisoners would get paroled? Everyone else has to stand in the yard and watch them get loaded onto the bus…on their way to freedom.”

  “Yeah, I remember those days.”

  Erin nodded as the waitress dropped off her to-go order. “That’s how Austin looks at you. Like maybe you are the freedom and he’s still stuck in the prison yard.”

  Polly looked away quickly before Erin could see the alarm she felt transforming her features. She wished she could crack open her skull and remove that inconvenient information. She didn’t want to know. How could she ever feel him watching her again and not replay those words? They couldn’t be true, anyway. This was one of those times where Erin’s perceptiveness had failed and the crazy had crept in. “I’m no one’s freedom, except my own. From now on…” She reached over and took a forkful of Erin’s pancakes. “Please don’t aid Austin in ruining my plans.”

  Erin’s expression was grave. “What are your plans? Why do they require those eyelashes? Are you moonlighting as a Liza Minnelli impersonator?” She ran a single finger over her own black lashes. “If so, it’s more serious than I thought.”

  Polly was saved having to lie or even worse—spill the truth—when Connor blew into Denny’s like a category five hurricane. He grumbled something to the hostess and advanced on their table. Erin’s lips lifted into a smile, even though she hadn’t seen him, being that her back was to the entrance. “Saved by the SEAL.”

  Connor stopped at the end of their table. “A note next time, Erin. I’m only asking for a note.”

  “I left a lipstick kiss on the mirror.”

  The surly ex-street enforcer was not impressed by his girlfriend’s statement. He crooked a slow finger at her. “We’re going.”

  “Home Depot isn’t open this early, baby,” Erin complained, but contentment and pleasure were evident in every line of her body. She handed Connor the to-go bag and launched herself onto his back, giving Polly a thumbs-up on the way out of the restaurant. “Go with God, Liza.”

  Polly waited for Connor and Erin to leave the restaurant before she blew out the breath she’d been holding, peeling off the false eyelashes. The conversation with Erin had given her a lot to think about, filled her with restless energy. First order of business? Track down a certain elusive Brit and obtain a satisfying explanation for his underhanded actions. And make damn sure no other satisfaction was garnered in the process. She’d faced fiercer obstacles than Austin Shaw.

  When Polly realized her fingers were pressed to her lips, the lips that had been moving in a frantic coupling with Austin’s just hours before, she curled them into a tight fist.

  Oh, yes. It was high time to regain the upper hand. Starting this morning.

  Chapter Five

  Austin unlocked the fifth and final lock of his one-bedroom flat in Lincoln Park and pushed open the door with a weary hand. Exhaustion weighed on his shoulders, so heavy that if he had the energy to turn his head, he would probably find them decorated with lead parrots. He’d gone far longer than one night without sleep in the past, but it appeared his gluttony for punishment knew no bounds at this particular juncture of his life.

  It had been a terrible idea, going to see his daughter after what had taken place with Polly. Any day of the week, he had zero business being anywhere in the vicinity of three-year-old Gemma Klausky, red-headed ballerina dancer…and illegitimate offspring of an international grifter. The product of a con gone terribly wrong. His greatest shame, while simultaneously being his foremost pride. Pride he had no goddamn right to feel, since he’d played no part in her upbringing. He merely caught glimpses of her from behind newspapers or through shop windows, when he felt the need to punish himself for his unforgivable lapse in judgment one night in São Paulo. A night not so long ago, but one that felt ten years in the past, probably because finding out he’d created a child with his then-mark had thrown his guilt-free existence into a tailspin. What had followed with his partner, Charles, the betrayal…well, he hadn’t quite recaptured his ability to give zero fucks since then¸ and it wasn’t for lack of trying.

  Yes, guilt was a cruel mistress he wished would shove off, right enough. The old bat had put quite a damper on his lifestyle, hadn’t she? Furthermore, he’d let her. After São Paulo, his cons had grown steadily less organized. More spontaneous, almost as if he’d wanted to get caught. And he had. By one Captain Derek Tyler.

  Austin’s being in Chicago hadn’t been a coincidence. A hired investigator had passed on Gemma and her mother’s whereabouts to him, a moment still crystallized in his mind. He’d met the investigator at a public park in New York City, could still remember the manila folder being handed over. The feel of it in his hand, accompanied by the knowledge that once he opened it, he couldn’t go back. As he’d flipped open the file and seen pictures of his daughter for the first time, the irony of a group of nearby children playing hide-and-seek hadn’t been lost on him.

  It had taken him over a year to leave New York and venture to Chicago, but he’d wasted no time writing bad checks. Putting a target on his back. His actions hadn’t been conscious at the time, but looking back with twenty-twenty vision, Austin knew what he’d been about. Getting caught meant he wouldn’t be able to leave Chicago. He’d be forced to remain and face his mistakes. If that wasn’t pathetic and twisted, he didn’t know what was.

  He’d met Derek on the afternoon of his arrest in an interrogation room with abysmal lighting and the stench of decaying cold cuts. It had been impossible to lump the captain in with his gray surroundings, however. With the opening line of, “You’re too good to write a shit check. What gives?” Derek had earned his respect. Not only because his staunch observation had been so damn true—he was good—Derek had been smart enough to stroke his ego without them exchanging a single word. Not bad. He’d signed on for the undercover squad that same day, giving him proximity to his estranged daughter and the chance to assuage his damnable guilt.

  Little did he know he would walk into their first meeting and find Polly, a temptress with brains to complete the gorgeous package. Rosy of lip and porcelain of cheek. Wide brown eyes and a backside that she appeared to be presenting, no matter her position. Sitting, leaning, bending. An arse that begged to be dealt with. Rather surprisingly, however, since last night, he’d made the switch from dealing with Polly to…Polly dealing with him.

  He knew his brilliant mind well enough to know the score. Getting between pretty Polly’s legs had been his objective since day one, and last night, she’d handed him the necessary means to get there. Control. Really, it should have occurred to him before now that Polly wasn’t a submissive woman. What surprised him was his response to her preferences. He…liked the idea when it came to her. Quite a lot.

  Austin realized he’d been standing poised in his entryway for several long minutes and cursed. After locking all five dead bolts, he unbuttoned his black overcoat, shrugged it off, and hung it on the back of the door. Despite his exhaustion, thoughts of a demanding Polly dressed in an abbreviated Snow White costume had roused his cock, and it needed tending. On his way to the bathroom, Austin unzipped his jeans, unable to wait for that first, blessed stroke.

  “God, yes,” Austin grated, closing his eyes to welcome his newest recurring fantasy. One that had plagued him since last night. Polly standing above where he knelt, her fingers snagged in his hair.

  “Would you like to touch me, Austin?”

  “Yes.” Even in his own fantasy, he sounded winded. Starved. “Yes,
I want to touch every goddamn inch.”

  “Good.” She rewarded him with a simple brush of her thumb across his forehead, but somehow her approval made his cock thicken. More. He had to have more. “Tell me where you’d like to touch.”

  He leaned closer, let his breath drift over her silky white panties. She was bare underneath, he could tell thanks to the tight, sheer material guarding her pussy. Her sweet, smooth pussy. “Between your legs.”

  Her grip tightened in his hair until he winced. “What’s the magic word?”

  “Please. I need to satisfy you.”

  Austin groaned as he walked into the dark bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light. A few more jerks of his cock and he’d be able to think, figure out what the hell to do about real-life Polly and the clusterfuck he’d created last night. Ah God, she was letting him lick her delicious flesh now, yanking his head away periodically to torture him, forcing him to look and not taste—

  The smell of lemonade had Austin’s hand pausing in its movements. His eyes flew open to find Polly perched on his bathroom sink, her fingers wrapped around a red Beretta. “For the love of God, control yourself, Shaw.”

  When presented with an intruder holding a gun, he didn’t stop to ask questions. Nor did he care about the identity of said weapon wielder. He’d never classified Polly as a threat before, but having experienced the sting of betrayal in the past, his nature had him lunging for the gun. Her gasp told him that response was unexpected, but she recovered quickly, fighting him for a grip.

  “Drop the gun.” He issued the order through clenched teeth. “I find the idea of hurting you distasteful.”

  She twisted her body, an attempt to regain control of the Beretta. “I can’t believe you don’t have the decency to put your dick away before charging at me.”