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"HEAT"
a novella
by L.A. Banks
from the anthology

Vegas Bites
Parker Publishing
ISBN:1600430015
November, 2006
click to buy

Excerpt:

A knock at the door almost made her jump out of her skin.  She stood, for a second not sure why, until she smelled him… along with a burger.

“Yeah, what do you want?” she called out in a surly tone, cocked her head and closed her eyes, letting out an impatient breath when he didn’t answer.

“Maverick, whatduya want?”

“I was hungry, ordered a burger before I sat down at the tables, and figured you might want one, too.  I just picked it up—you want it now, or ya wanna wait till it gets cold?”

She strode across the room and unlocked the door and flung it open.  “I’m working.”

“I know, but are you hungry?”

Exasperated, she moved to let him in and slammed the door shut behind him.  The smell of the food, along with the tantalizing smell of him, only stoked her ire.  She locked the door.

Ignoring her outburst, he loped over to her desk and pulled a Styrofoam box out of the bag and set it down slowly and backed away.  “Bloody, cheese, no onions, hot sauce, and fries on the side.”  He looked at her and then extracted two root beers from the bag and held out one for her.  “Something to wash it down.”

Her stomach was doing flip-flops as she stalked over to him, snatched a pop bottle, and muttered, “Thanks.” 

It took everything within her to move around him and go to her desk, but she refused to immediately tear into the box of grub.  No.  She focused her gaze on a monitor while the delicious scent of near raw, flame-seared beef wafted up her nose.  Her hands were practically shaking as she angrily twisted off the pop cap, threw her head back, and guzzled half the bottle.

He had to sit down before he fell down.   Rather the look like a complete idiot, he grabbed a nearby chair, turned it around backwards, and sat with a thud.  It was either scarf down the burger or make a lunge for her.  Opting for the sane choice, he set his root beer on an adjacent desk as calmly as possible and ripped open the bag to get his container of food.  The huge burger was gone in three wolfing bites; albeit he was slightly humiliated that he was practically slobbering on himself in front of her, but kept his expression nonchalant as he licked away the remnants of ketchup from his mouth… it would have been so nice if she had done that.

“You’re not gonna eat?”

“In a bit,” she said with attitude, not looking at him.

“Hey, if you don’t want it…”

She looked at him and opened the box lid, irises holding a slightly glowing dare. 

“My bad,” he said chuckling and began scoffing down his fries.  “All a brother was trying to say was… if you weren’t hungry don’t let good grub go to waste.”

“Thank you,” she said, after a moment, and finally picked up the burger, sniffed it, and then bit into it hard.

The look on her face made him stop chewing.  Her eyes had crossed beneath her lids and the soft moan she released almost made him stand.  But he had to be cool.  Had to tell her that Malcolm was gonna sock her budget hard for a little undercover work that had to be done the way it had to be done.  The call went down without resistance while he was ordering the burger.  Once he’d explained Ecstasy’s plan, all Malcolm had said was “Damn… do it.”

But he wanted that news to come from him not Malcolm, and knew Laurel would shift and go for his throat when she heard it… no love play in the lunge at all.  The burger had been a peace offering, although he’d have brought her a dripping steak, if she’d let him.

“See those three guys at poker two,” Butch said, trying hard to keep his focus as he watched Laurel eat.  “Earlier, three weak alphas were sitting where they are now.”

“I know,” she mumbled through a bite, “Where are they?  That’s what I wanna know.”

There was no good way to answer her legitimate question.  “Cutter, Fang, and Mad Dawg usually don’t show themselves around here,” he said, choosing his words with care.  “Don’t you think it’s mighty coincidental that they’re here now… during a big tournament that starts tonight and about to run all week?”

“Yeah,” she said, polishing off the burger, and washing down the last swallow with her pop.  “But there’s a lot of new faces here just for the tourney.  That could be a sign, but might not be.  But we do need to watch them.”

He’d heard half of what she’d said as he watched the liquid slide down her throat, the way it moved under her soft skin as she tipped her head back, spilling a thick wash of brunette hair over her shoulders.  Her jacket was on the chair, the low bluish lights in the room from the monitors practically made her sheer blouse see-through… the lace beneath it caught his attention and sent his line of vision over her breasts.  But he had to close his eyes as his gaze slid over her tight nipples.  Good Lord he remembered her in his arms, every agonizing moment.

She glimpsed him from the corner of her eye and nearly choked on her pop when his eyelids became heavy and he slightly turned his head away.  This calm, discreet man was not the Barron Maverick she knew.  Suddenly she felt too exposed without her jacket on.  Just knowing that he’d been looking at her that way made her nipples sting.  Lord, she remembered those fevered nights with Barron… under the moon and stars, his deep, baritone growls sending chills down her spine… the way he made love, hot, intense, impassioned until there was nothing left to do but sob from pleasure. 

“What do you make of it?” she said quickly bringing her mind out of self-hypnosis, and beginning to munch on her fries without tasting them.  She had to do something with her hands.

“I think the weak alphas came in and cased the joint, flashing money to make it look like they already came loaded,” he said in a gravelly tone with his head hung back and eyes closed while inhaling and exhaling very slowly.  “Then Cutter and his posse came in as a follow up recognizance to be sure using the same pattern.”

She couldn’t speak as she watched Butch labor to breathe.  Slowly and very methodically, she abandoned her fries and the pop on the edge of her desk.  It was the sexiest, most primal thing she’d seen Barron do.  The man was simply breathing, on focus with his words, but a repressed shift was clearly kicking his ass.  He was making her remember too much tonight, and she was less than stable.  Plus, he was right.  What was happening on the floor smelled suspicious.

“You think they’ll make a move tonight?” she murmured, and then watched his breath hitch from the sound of her voice.

“I hope not,” he said, lifting his head slowly to stare at her.  “I’m being real.”

She squeezed her knees together under her desk to stave off the want that was burning between her thighs.  “I have to watch the floors, and be sure they don’t try something stupid.”

“I know, me too,” he said in a low rumble, and then slowly cased the room, his gaze stopping on the technology and finally settling on the lock on the door.

“Oh… no, Maverick, don’t even think it,” she said chuckling softly, unable to force indignation into her tone.

“We can still watch the monitors.  The door will be locked.”  His unblinking gaze and the serious tone of his voice held her for ransom.  “I missed you.  The moon is out, and I can’t fake it.  I can’t forget.  Being around you messes me up bad, Laurel.”

“I missed you, too—but this is my gig, Mav… come on.  Gimme a break.”

“Then, when do you go on break?” he asked, slowly standing.

“I don’t, not with a potential threat in the casino,” she murmured and stood.

They both stared at each other for a moment.

“You’re standing way too close,” she said quietly, her eyes searching his.

“I know,” he murmured.  “But I can’t back up.”

She swallowed hard.  “Neither can I.”

“You gonna call Malcolm… or your men on the floor… so somebody else can watch those guys for a few?”

“In a little while,” she said slowly, as his hot palm cupped her cheek and seared it.

He shuddered when she turned her mouth against it and kissed the center of it as her eyes closed.  “You wanna watch the monitors together?”

She nodded and placed her hand in the center of his stone-cut chest.  “We can’t shift in here, though—you know that.”

He only nodded and stepped in closer to her.  Initially it was impossible to speak as the words he was about to say got lodged in his chest under her warm hand.  “You’re burning up.”

She closed her eyes.  “So are you.”

He allowed his trembling hands to fall to her shoulders.  Heat fever was making her blouse stick to her body.  He breathed her in, pressing his nose to her hair as she fit against him with a whimper that released a deep, guttural groan from within him.  The moment her hands slid up his back, he sought her mouth hard, and could feel his vertebra beginning to separate for a massive wolf transformation.  But she pulled out of the kiss gasping.

“You’re shifting and—”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he whispered urgently, cradling her face and raining hot kisses against it.  “It’s just been so long without you, baby.”  His voice was bottoming out, becoming unintelligible.  She felt so good; his body couldn’t stop moving against hers as she gathered his leather lapels into her fists.  He still had a gun on him, and couldn’t even think about wasting time removing it.  His hands were preoccupied in her velvety hair, then caressing her arms, her supple spine, and sliding over hips he’d missed until they covered the firm lobes of her ass.  “Oh, God, Laurel, get somebody in here to cover for you for an hour.”

Photo Credit: Keith Major
Leslie's Makeup & Hair: Anthony Jones and Karen Bishop for Evoluer Image Consultants

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