Colton 911--Unlikely Alibi

by Lisa Childs

  But what about one night...?

  Dare she risk it?

  * * *

  She was so damn hot. So sensual...

  Her hands skimmed over his bare chest, caressing his muscles, as she passionately kissed him.

  How the hell had he gotten so lucky?

  But then the hands on his chest pushed him back. He lifted his head from hers. “What? What’s wrong?” Sean asked January.

  She gazed up at him, her green eyes full of fear and concern. “I’m scared...”

  “I’m here,” he said. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  “I’m not worried about me,” she said.

  Of course she wasn’t.

  She never worried about herself—just about everyone else.

  “Who are you worried about?” he asked. “Maya?”

  “No.” A slight smile curved her lips as she thought of the little girl with whom they’d both fallen in love while they’d been falling for each other. “She’s safe. She’s happy.”

  “Then you’re worried about your family,” he said. And she had every reason to be worried. He was, too.

  She nodded. “Of course I am. I can’t believe that we all might be in danger.”

  He pulled her gently back into his embrace. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to you,” he promised. “I’ll be your police protection.”

  She pushed him back again and smiled up at him. “I told you I’m not worried about me. I don’t think I’m in danger.”

  “You’re worried about your mom?” She had been spending as much time as she could with Farrah Colton since her father and uncle had been murdered.

  “I’m worried about everyone but especially Heath and Kylie. They could have been killed today.” She shuddered at the horrific thought.

  And it was horrific. The Coltons had already had too much tragedy with the murders of Ernie and Alfie.

  “Yes, but I’m not sure that means everybody else in the family is in danger, too,” he said. He hadn’t been happy with Joe for suggesting that, either, but he understood the older detective’s desire to make sure everyone was cautious and vigilant until the killer was caught.

  January stared at him, her brow slightly creased. “Do you think that Heath and Kylie might have been the intended targets instead of Dad and Uncle Ernie?”

  He shook his head. “I doubt, even as late as it was, that the twins could have been mistaken for Kylie Givens and your cousin. But it’s curious that the murders and attempted murders have been only of the people involved with the company.”

  January gasped. “You think it’s related to Colton Connections?”

  He nodded. “It must have something to do with their work.”

  “You were there the other day, after the car nearly ran Heath and Kylie over,” January remembered. “Did you notice anything?”

  The guy from the elevator flitted into his mind. “There was a guy who told me about Kylie having some kind of criminal background.”

  January chuckled and shook her head. “No way.”

  “Not her but her family,” he said. “He didn’t seem to be a fan of Heath’s, either, but I figured he was just some disgruntled employee.”

  But often disgruntled employees were the ones who came into the workplace to kill their bosses.

  The same thought must have occurred to January because she said, “You better warn Heath.”

  Sean nodded in agreement. But Heath wasn’t the only one he needed to warn. He had to talk to Joe, too.

  He hadn’t wanted to share with him what the Colton Connections employee had said, though, because he knew Joe was already suspicious of Heath and Kylie. And he hadn’t wanted to tell Heath then because he hadn’t wanted to worry him until he was more sure.

  Until those gunshots had been fired.

  It was clear now that either Heath or Kylie or both of them were the next intended target of the killer.

  Chapter 17

  She was so damn beautiful.

  And she was so close. Living with him.

  Heath hadn’t been able to resist the urge to seek her out, to invade what was now her space in his penthouse. He hadn’t been willing to do that for anyone, to let them bring more than a toothbrush to his place.

  But here Kylie was...

  She had that big sweater draped over the back of a chair. An afghan thrown across the foot of the bed. Books scattered throughout the room. Her laptop.

  Her phone.

  Her briefcase.

  There was now more of her in this room than there had ever been him. Of course it was the guest room. And she was a guest. That was all she was.

  Until the killer was caught. Until she was safe.

  But in the meantime, he was in danger. In danger of crossing a line with her, a line that once crossed could never be uncrossed.

  He pushed his hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it had already been. “I see you’ve settled in,” he remarked when she turned and caught him staring.

  He had been staring, too. His gaze hungrily devouring the sight of her bare legs, her soft curves, her long hair.

  “Are you really okay with my staying here?” she asked.

  He’d told her all about never wanting to live with anyone before. So she knew; she knew him so damn well.

  He nodded and reminded her, “It was my idea.”

  A bad one. One that would probably come back to bite him on the ass.

  “I know, but you’ve never let anyone live with you before,” she said.

  She knew him too well.

  Better even than his family knew him. And his family knew that, knew he and Kylie were close. Thanks to his acting, they thought they were even closer than they were—that they were romantically involved.

  And no one had been all that surprised.

  In fact they had seemed damn well pleased about his fake relationship with his vice president.

  “Not that I’m really living with you,” Kylie quickly added. “In fact, if you’re uncomfortable with this, I can leave.”

  “You can’t stay alone at your house,” he said.

  “I could check into a hotel,” she offered. “One with good security.”

  “This building has good security,” he said. A doorman. Special codes to access elevators and floors. “And if you left, I would be much more uncomfortable worrying about you.”

  “You’re not worried now?” she asked.

  He shook his head because he couldn’t utter the lie. He was worried about her, but he was more worried about her getting to him.

  “I am,” she said.

  “You’re safe here,” he assured her. “There’s security, and I’m here.”

  Her lips curved into a slight smile. “That’s why I’m worried.”

  He raised his hands, palm up, toward her. “I would never hurt you.” Not purposely.

  But he had hurt women before—because he hadn’t been able to give them what they’d wanted from him. Love.

  He sighed. “But you’re right to be cautious,” he admitted. “My track record isn’t the greatest.”

  “With house guests?” she asked, a teasing glint in her dark eyes.

  He chuckled. “You know what I’m talking about. What my family was talking about. About the two of us.”

  “They think we’re perfect for each other,” she mused aloud, as if she was considering it.

  Like he had considered it. While Kylie was perfect—beautiful and smart and funny—he doubted he would feel any more for her than he had any of his previous girlfriends. And he didn’t want to hurt her like he had them.

  He shook his head, trying to dislodge that traitorous thought. “But that would be crazy.”

  “Definitely,” she agreed—wholeheartedly. Maybe too wholeheartedly.
/>
  He winced, his pride stinging at how quickly she’d agreed with him. That pride and his male ego prodded him away from the jamb, so that he walked into the room and stood close to her, to where she stood so close to the bed.

  If she gave him any encouragement, he would have pushed her back onto the mattress and followed her down, covering her body with his, her mouth with his. He was so damn tempted to reach for her that he had to curl his fingers into his palms and hold them tightly at his sides. A muscle even twitched along his jaw as he clenched it, too.

  She arched a dark brow and asked, “You’re mad that I agree with you?”

  He nearly chuckled over how ridiculous she made his reaction sound, but he held back the smile that twitched at his lips and admitted, “I’m mad over how quickly you agreed with me.”

  Kylie didn’t hold back her smile though it didn’t stay for long before slipping away as she tilted her head and studied his face. “Why would that make you mad? Do you want me to want a relationship with you?”

  Now he did laugh. “I don’t know what I want.” But that was a lie. He wanted her.

  “That’s a first,” she mused. “You usually always know what you want.”

  He groaned. “God, they were right, weren’t they? You know me so damn well.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Some of them claimed they knew we were together already.”

  “Grandmother...” He chuckled. “She likes to think that she knows everything about everyone.” But she hadn’t known that Pop and Uncle Alfie would be murdered. Nobody could have known that but for their killer.

  Kylie continued, “She and others commented on the chemistry that’s always been between us.”

  He wanted to snort in derision, but she seemed almost serious now, pensive, as if she was contemplating that chemistry. They’d had it working together in how easy it was for them to understand each other, to finish each other’s sentences, to instinctively know what the other one wanted.

  Would sex with her be the same way? That easy? That instinctive?

  He wanted to find out. To test that chemistry, he leaned down, so that his head was close to hers, his mouth close to her lips. And he knew, without even kissing her, that the chemistry was there in how his pulse quickened and his heart pounded.

  He wanted her so damn badly. But he had no excuse to kiss her now; there were no witnesses, no one he needed to convince of their fake relationship.

  So he forced himself to step back.

  She opened her eyes, that he’d not even realized she’d closed, and stared at him in shock. “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything,” he murmured. “I didn’t ask you to stay here for this...” He gestured toward the bed. “I don’t want you to think that, and I don’t want to jeopardize our real relationship by believing our fake one.”

  Then he forced himself to turn and walk away from her, from that bed, from that temptation.

  But before he could slip through the doorway and into the hall, she called out to him.

  “Heath...”

  He froze, his body tense with all the desire for her coursing through him. But he still wouldn’t turn back. He couldn’t look at her—not without wanting her.

  As much as he desired her, he wouldn’t risk ruining their friendship and their working relationship. He’d never been as close to anyone as he was to her, and he didn’t want to lose that closeness when he disappointed her. Eventually, he would disappoint her as he had every other woman he’d dated.

  So he drew in a deep, unsteady breath and kept walking away from her.

  * * *

  He was walking away—without stopping, without kissing her.

  The anticipation of his kiss, that had had her pulse humming, turned to indignation now. She’d called to him—twice—and he hadn’t turned around, he hadn’t come back to her. So she pursued him now, down the hall and through the living room where he didn’t stop before heading through the double doors to his master suite on the other side of the penthouse from the guest room.

  Clearly he wanted to get away from her.

  But Kylie didn’t want him to go.

  Not without her...

  Once he walked through those double doors, he turned back toward her as he began to close those doors on her. She pushed her hand against the wood and pushed her way inside with him. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

  “Because I won’t be able to just talk to you,” he said. “All the acting got to me.” He pushed both hands through his hair now and shook his head. “And I’m going to cross that damn line.”

  “What line?” she asked.

  “The line no coworkers should cross with each other,” he said.

  “You’re my boss,” she reminded him—because he always seemed to forget that she worked for him.

  “That makes it even more important that I don’t cross that line with you,” he said. “I don’t want to do anything to ruin our working relationship.”

  A little smile tugged at her lips as she was compelled to tease him. “Are you worried that I’ll sue you for harassment?” she asked.

  His face paled somewhat even though he shook his head.

  “You don’t need to worry about that,” she said. “I know we’re only faking the romantic relationship, but you just mentioned our real relationship.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, a working one.”

  “Is that all we have?” she asked, her heart heavy that might be all he considered them to be—colleagues.

  “Of course not,” he said. “We’re friends, too. And I don’t want to jeopardize that.”

  “Have you never been friends with anyone you’ve slept with?” she wondered aloud. The only men she’d been intimate with had been friends first, or she wouldn’t have trusted them enough to be intimate with them.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Not like you and I are friends anyway.”

  “Because we are friends,” she said. “I won’t sue you. And because we are friends, I know you’re not looking for that relationship we’ve been faking for Detective Parker and your family. I won’t expect more of you than you can give.”

  Some of the tension that had had him clenching his jaw and hands eased from his body. But his brow creased as he asked her, “What do you want, Kylie?”

  “You.” She wanted to see if their chemistry carried over from the boardroom to the bedroom.

  He released a shaky breath. “Are you sure?”

  “We could have died today when those gunshots were fired at us,” she said. “Or yesterday when that car nearly ran us over, and then we’d never know.” If that chemistry was more than work, more than friendship.

  “Know what?” he asked, already reaching for her, his hand encircling her wrist to tug her farther inside his bedroom.

  “If the passion we feel when we kiss is real or just part of our fake relationship.”

  He leaned down then and finally gave her the kiss she’d anticipated. And it was clear from how hungrily his mouth moved over hers that he’d been anticipating it, too.

  Wanting it.

  Wanting her.

  But he pulled back, panting for breath, and asked, “Are you sure?”

  “I’m not going to sue you,” she promised with a smile.

  “Are you sure you want me?” he asked, his voice gruff with his vulnerability.

  She knew that even as handsome as he was, as smart and sexy, he had the same insecurities she had. They both knew they weren’t relationship material. Maybe that was why this made sense, why they made sense.

  Desire overwhelming her, she couldn’t speak; she could only vehemently nod as she reached for him. She tugged at his shirt, pulling it up over his washboard abs, over his muscular chest and then over his head. He was so damn good looking that her heart pounded even f
aster, her hands shaking with desire as she ran them over his skin that was smooth but for a dusting of golden hair across his chest.

  The twitch was back in his cheek as he tightly clenched his jaw. Then he was sliding up her tank top to pull it over her head. Because of its built-in bra, she didn’t wear anything else with it, and her breasts sprang free.

  He cupped them in his big, slightly unsteady hands, and he stroked them.

  She shuddered in reaction, overwhelmed by the feelings coursing through her. She was so close to an orgasm from just the touch of his hands. Then he lowered his head and closed his mouth over one taut point, and she moaned as pleasure flooded her. “Heath...”

  Her knees might have given out had he not slid his arm beneath them and lifted her from her feet. He didn’t carry her far, just to his bed—the bed they’d already shared once.

  Kylie knew she wasn’t going to just sleep with him this time, though—not with both their bodies so damn tense with the need for release. After lowering her to the mattress, though, he stepped back.

  She reached out for him, wanting to pull him down with her, on top of her. She ached for him.

  With those slightly unsteady hands, he fumbled with the button on his jeans. Then he pushed the denim down his long legs along with the boxers he wore.

  Kylie reached for her boxers, too, skimming them over her hips and off her legs until she lay naked before him. His gaze ran over her like a caress and he shook his head.

  Scared he’d changed his mind, her heart slammed against her ribs. “What? What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Nothing. You’re perfect. So damn perfect.”

  Well aware that she lacked the curves of his other girlfriends, she chuckled. “Are you drunk?”

  “Not on alcohol,” he said. “Just on you...”

  Then, in all his naked deliciousness, he joined her on the bed. And he sipped at her lips like he was drinking her, kissing her deeply before moving down her body. He acted as though he worshiped it, caressing every curve with first his hands and then his lips.

  She quivered with pleasure. When he moved lower, kissed her intimately, slid his tongue inside her, she screamed his name as an orgasm shuddered through her. She tried to roll him onto his back, tried to repay him the pleasure he’d given her. But he was too big, too tense.