Free Best-Kept Lies by Lisa Jackson Page A

end raw emotion won out and his lips crashed down on hers so intensely she drew in a swift breath and it was followed quickly by his tongue. Slick. Sleek. Searching. The tip touched her teeth, forcing them apart as he grabbed her. Leather creaked, the sky parted, rain poured and Randi’s foolish, foolish heart opened.
    She kissed the rogue back, slamming her mind against thoughts that she was making the worst mistake of her life, that she was crossing a bridge that was burning behind her, that her life, from that moment on, would be changed forever.
    But there, in the middle of the bustling city, with raindrops falling on them both, she didn’t care.

Seven
    S top this! Stop it now! Don’t you remember last night?
    Blinking against the rain, fighting the urge to lean against him, Randi pulled away from Kurt. “This is definitely not a good idea,” she said. “It wasn’t last night and it isn’t now.”
    His mouth twisted. “I’m not sure about that.”
    “I am.” It was a lie. Right now she wasn’t certain of anything. She reached behind her and fumbled with the door handle. “Let’s just give it a rest, okay?”
    He didn’t argue, nor did he stop her as she slid into the Jeep and, with shaking fingers, found her keys and managed to start the ignition. Lunacy. That’s what it was. Sheer, unadulterated, pain-in-the-backside lunacy! She couldn’t start kissing the likes of Kurt Striker again.
    Dear God, what had she been thinking?
    You weren’t thinking. That’s the problem!
    She flipped on the radio, heard the first notes of a sappy love song and immediately punched the button to find talk radio, only to hear a popular program where a radio psychologist was giving out advice to someone who was mixed up with the wrong kind of man, the same kind of advice she handed out through her column in the Clarion, the very advice she should listen to herself.
    First she’d made the mistake of getting involved with Sam Donahue and now she was falling for Kurt Striker… No! She pounded a fist on the steering wheel as she braked for a turnoff.
    Cutting through traffic, she made a call on her cell phone to Sharon, was assured that Joshua was safe, then stopped at a local market for a few groceries.
    Fifteen minutes later she pulled into the parking lot of her condo. Now away from the hustle and bustle of the city, the dark of the night seemed more threatening. The parking lot was dark and the security lamps were glowing, throwing pools of light onto the wet ground and a few parked cars. The parking area was deserted, none of her neighbors were walking dogs or taking out trash. Warm light glowed from only a few windows, the rest of the units were dark.
    So what? This is why you chose this place. It was quiet, only a few units overlooking the lake.
    For the first time since moving here, Randi looked at her darkened apartment and felt a moment’s hesitation, a hint of fear. She glanced over her shoulder, through the back windows of the Jeep, wondering if someone was watching her, someone lurking in a bank of fir trees and rhododendron that ringed the parking lot, giving it privacy. She had the uneasy sensation that hidden eyes were watching her through a veil of wet needles and leaves.
    “Get a grip,” she muttered, hoisting the bag and holding tight to her key ring. As if it was some kind of protection. What a laugh!
    No one was hiding. No one was watching her. And yet she wished she hadn’t been so quick to put some distance between herself and Striker. Maybe she did need a bodyguard, someone she could trust.
    Someone you can’t keep your hands off of?
    Someone you’ve made love to?
    Someone that even now, even though you know better, you’d love to take to bed? In her mind’s eye she saw the image of Kurt Striker, all taut skin and muscle as he held her in front of the dying fire.
    Oh, for the love of St. Peter! Hauling her laptop, the groceries, her briefcase and her rebellious libido with her, she made her way