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Renauld looked ready to spit.
“Good morning to you, too,” Mick said, giving the man a measured nod. Then he put the donut bag on Caro’s desk and slid an arm around her waist. “I brought you breakfast.” He reached up a hand and touched his fingertip to her lips, letting her taste the tiny bit of powdered sugar on his skin.
Fiend.
Renauld huffed and turned toward the door. Before he could go, Caro delivered the final blow. “By the way, Littman also said we’re giving access only to legitimate news and TV organizations andonlyabout the show itself.”
He turned to look over his shoulder, his jaw hanging open.
“If anyone says a slanderous word about R. F. Colt, they’re to be escorted off the site, immediately.” Despite knowing Renauld would think she’d done it all for personal reasons, she still tried to make him understand. “The legal ramifications for slander against a public figure could kill us and preventKilling Time in a Small Townfrom airing. Ever. Littman and the other execs agree. Sophie Winchester hasn’t been charged with a crime and she’s off-limits in terms of interviews.”
The man’s jaw snapped shut. Without another word, he stormed out of the trailer.
“Well done,” Mick said when they were alone. He lifted his hand again and brushed more powdered sugar on her lips. “Thank you for going to bat for Sophie.”
She licked off the sugar and closed her eyes. “Mmm. Tasty. And you’re welcome, though I would have done the same for anyone. We don’t need a lawsuit.”
“Whatever the reason, I’m grateful.”
She pulled her wits together enough to give him a warning. “It’s taken care of for now. But if she actually gets charged, Mick, I don’t know that I can control it.”
He met her stare evenly. Caro hoped he understood, hoped he realized how much she was trying to hold everything together. The show, her career, his sister’s situation.
And, most of all,them.
“Understood.” Then he gave her one of those devastating smiles. It was accompanied by a devilish twinkle in his eye. “I have something else I brought for you today.”
“Bagels?”
Shaking his head, he reached into his pocket and drew out a padlock and key. Without another word he walked over to the door, drew in a top latch and hooked the lock through it, effectively trapping them inside.
“Privacy,” he said. Then he began to walk toward her. Slowly. Deliberately. Like a wolf stalking its prey.
“I’d call it insanity,” she said, her voice shaky.
“We’re alone…”
She took a step back. “We’re a few yards from a dozen other people.”
He jiggled the bag and approached again, his smile decidedly wolfish now. “I have donuts withextrapowdered sugar.”
She backed up again, step by step, until her legs bumped into something, and she could go no farther. “I have a brown suit that would show every little fleck of powdered sugar.”
Wrong thing to say. That was a definite red flag waved before a bull. She knew it as soon as the words left her mouth.
“Well,” he said, reaching to pull her into his arms, “we’ll have to get that suit off you so it doesn’t get messy.”
Before she could protest, before she could eventhinkto protest, her jacket was coming off, her blouse unbuttoned, and her skirt lifted. “Mick…”
“Shh,” he said as he reached into the bag and captured some powdered sugar between his fingers. He sprinkled it over her, letting it drift down between the curves of her breasts and over her lace-covered nipples. Then he bent down and unfastened the front clasp of her bra with his teeth.
She groaned and gave up all protest. “Oh, God.”
She started to tremble as he began to lick the sugar away. As with every aspect of his lovemaking, he wasverythorough. His lips and tongue created incredible friction on her breasts until she was practically begging him to take her hard nipple into his mouth. When he finally did, she arched back and savored the strong pulling sensation as he suckled her. “You’re so wicked.”
He didn’t bother to reply, just pulled her skirt higher, grasped between her legs to tug her panties away, then reached for his zipper.
“You want me to stop?” he growled against her throat as he eased between her legs.
