Free Yours in Black Lace by Mia Zachary

scraped the hair off his forehead. “Listen, Alex. I don’t know how much time we have to figure out why Braga sent those photos, but it just got a lot shorter.”
    “Yeah? What’s happened?”
    “Weston called me tonight. Said they might have to recall us on rebuttal.”
    Alex’s reaction was an immediate and ugly expletive. “You’d think two years on a case would be enough without having to deal with a monthlong trial, too.”
    They rehashed the investigation and arrests, as well as speculating about Stevie’s connection to Braga, until Emelio huffed out a breath and got to his feet. “Okay. We can talk about the rest tomorrow. Right now I’ve got somebody waiting.”
    There was silence on the other end of the phone, and then Alex growled in his ear. “That had better not mean what I think, Em. Not after the hell you gave me for getting involved with Meghan when she was still a suspect.”
    When they’d first arrived at the Cayo Sueño Resort hunting for Ramos and Braga, he’d had every reason to think that Meghan was working for the cartel, despite Alex’s gut-level belief in her innocence. He knew Stevie couldn’t be involved with Braga directly, but somehow she’d attracted his menacing attention. As for her innocence… The letters were proof against that.
    “It doesn’t mean anything, not yet.”
    Alex scoffed. “Bullshit.”
    “What are you talking about?” Emelio returned to the dining room, only to find it empty. The table had been cleared, the dishes removed and the candles blown out.
    “Actually Meghan noticed before I caught on. Stevie’s had her eyes on you for a while now, hombre. And you’ve done some looking of your own.”
    No point in denying it—his best friend knew better. “If I could ever get off the phone, I’d do more than just look.”
    “Make sure you know what you’re getting into this time.”
    Emelio dismissed his warning with a rude suggestion, appreciating Alex’s concern but not the reference to what happened with his last relationship.
    “See you, Em.”
    “Yeah, man. Later.”
    A fast check in the kitchen revealed clean counter-tops and a running dishwasher. But no Stevie. As he clicked off the cordless phone, he heard indistinct voices coming from the Florida room.
    The brilliant color and dark shadow of several explosions flashed across Stevie’s face. Her lithe body curled around a throw pillow on the white-leather sofa, her hands tucked under her cheek. She must have been tired to fall asleep before James Bond had escaped from the bad guys’ lair and saved the world.
    After lowering the volume on the entertainment center, Emelio covered her with the light blanket from one of the armchairs. Then he picked up the remote control and sat next to her. Impulsively, he reached down to lightly brush his fingers over the corn-silk strands of her hair. It seemed an oddly natural thing to do.
    She stirred, instinctively seeking his touch. He’d never brought a woman to this house before. Even his family was rarely invited here and Alex had only stayed once. So why the hell did Stevie look so right, cuddled on the sofa beside him? Not in the mood to examine his actions, or the feelings behind them, Emelio settled in to watch Bond kick some Soviet ass.



5
    E MELIO HAD FINALLY taken her to bed. Too bad he hadn’t joined her for…anything.
    Stevie sighed and rolled onto her right side, watching the morning sunlight glitter on the turquoise waters of the swimming pool. The muted whoosh of incoming waves on the Gulf was barely audible through the closed French doors as she snuggled under the hunter-and-burgundy satin quilt. Even Florida got chilly on January nights.
    She wondered if she was lying on Emelio’s side of the bed, and whether he slept on his back or his stomach. She wondered why he wasn’t sleeping right beside her. Flopping over, she stared at the ceiling and worked on identifying her emotions, since she was already focused on the source.
    Lust,