“Uh…can I help you?” Ryan finally said, since the man wasn’t saying anything.
“Is…Sera here?”
Ryan tipped his head to one side. “Who’s asking?”
Then he heard Sera’s voice behind him. “Leo. What are you doing here?”
Ryan looked over his shoulder. Sera stood behind him, doing up the belt on the silky, pink-flowered robe she now wore.
“I just popped by to see how you’re doing. I thought you were home.”
Who the hell was this old guy?
His eyes moved between her and Ryan, and Ryan’s skin heated.
Sera sighed. “Um. Leo, this is my…uh…partner.” Her face turned a vivid shade of scarlet. “Ryan Thomas. This is my neighbor, Leo Manchester.”
“Hey. Mr. Manchester. Nice to meet you. Come on in.” He stepped aside to allow the older man to enter, which he did with an interested look at Ryan.
“You’re her partner?” The older man’s brows drew together.
“Yeah. On the…uh…” Shut the fuck up, he told himself. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his own babbling.
“Leo.” Sera’s voice softened. “How are you?”
He handed over a stack of mail and newspapers. “You really should cancel the newspaper if you’re going to be away so much,” he told her. She took the papers from him with a sigh.
“I told you, I don’t need you to do this for me. And how the hell do you know when I’m home, anyway? Every time I come back, you show up.”
He smiled. “Just lucky, I guess.” Then he glanced at Ryan. “You’re her partner? As in, work partner?” He lifted a brow, clearly inferring more than business from the fact that Ryan was there, in the morning, neither of them dressed…
Ryan’s skin heated. He sent a glance toward Sera. “Uh…” Christ.
“You told me you had an office job,” Leo said to Sera.
“I did. Up till a couple of weeks ago.”
“Oh.”
Sera frowned. “Geez, Leo, don’t worry about it. This is my job.”
“I do worry about you.”
Ryan looked at Sera, saw the annoyance battling with affection on her face. Who the hell was this guy that he got her so worked up?
“Don’t worry about me!” she said fiercely. “I can look after myself.”
Leo looked back and forth between Ryan and Sera with interest.
“I’ll…uh…go have a shower,” Ryan said.
Sera nodded, her lips pressed together. “I’ll make coffee.”
He took a quick shower in the bathroom attached to Sera’s bedroom. The woman was definitely an enigma. He replayed the conversation they’d had about her brush with death. Her experience had been out of the ordinary, for sure, and it killed him that people had rejected her, hurt her, because of it. But she’d told him, risked getting hurt and rejected again. He didn’t want to do that to her, but it was kind of hard to accept.
She was so tough and independent. Too independent, goddammit. That was going to get her hurt too. She was driving him crazy! He didn’t have time to worry about her! He had enough stuff to worry about. Jesus.
He almost growled as he sniffed the bottle of body wash he found in the shower. Much as he liked Sera’s smell, he didn’t want to walk around smelling all fruity girly.
He turned off the taps, dried himself on a thick, fluffy towel—way nicer than any of the threadbare towels at his place—and dressed in the same clothes he’d worn yesterday. He hadn’t brought his bag in where it still sat in the trunk of the car. A change of clothes was only a few steps away but he hesitated to leave the bedroom.
When he cracked the door open and listened, he heard only silence. The rich aroma of coffee seeped into the bedroom. Christ, he could use a cup of coffee. He opened the door the rest of the way and walked into Sera’s combination kitchen- living room. She stood at the counter, slicing a bagel in half.
“Who was that guy?”
She nodded, didn’t look up. “I told you. My neighbor.”
“Seems like he cares about you.”
She hitched a shoulder. “He’s just looking for someone to replace his daughter who apparently pays no attention to him.”
His chest squeezed at her words and he stared at her slim, stiff back. The silky robe had slipped off one shoulder, and she tried to shrug it back on, but it just fell lower. Her bare shoulder gleamed in the morning light pouring in the kitchen window. He wanted to touch it, press his mouth to it, inhale the sweet, warm scent of her.
“Have something to eat before you go,” she offered, dropping the sliced bagel into a toaster. “I’m sure you have lots to do today.”
Gee, thanks. Why didn’t she just kick him out the door?
“Hey,” he said, moving up behind her and setting his hands on her waist. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He grinned and laid his face on her smooth hair. “Are you upset that Leo found us together? Your reputation is ruined?”
She snorted. “Hardly.”
He knew what was bugging her. The fact that her neighbor cared about her and worried about her pissed her off. And she cared about that guy too. She talked tough, but underneath the obstinate, rigid exterior was a soft-hearted woman who cared about people who couldn’t look after themselves, like Carly and a lonely old neighbor who missed his daughter.
Ryan’s chest ached. He was really losing it. He was getting all mushy over a woman—Christ, a co-worker no less. A woman he was more attracted to than anyone else in his life. A woman who’d just told him one of the craziest stories he’d ever heard.
Must be all the stress. The job, his mother’s illness, now her dying…a man could only take so much before he cracked. And Sera was just so fucking sexy and sweet underneath that prickly exterior, she drove him out of his mind, had his dick and balls in both hands, hers for the taking.
But he wanted her. No. He cared about her. He wouldn’t care about someone who would lie to him. Someone who would invent crazy stories for some unfuckingknown reason. So yeah, sure. She’d come back from the dead with a mission. That was cool.
Chapter Eighteen
When Ryan returned to Clover City Sunday afternoon, he had to drag his ass there. He felt drained, all his resources sapped. The strain of the last months working undercover, always having to be on top of things, one jump ahead of the DAs, compounded by worry about his mother and now the grief of her death and the strain of her funeral, was sucking the life out of him. How much longer could he go on?
He pulled his truck into the driveway behind Sera’s old Camaro. She’d gotten back before him. The funeral had been yesterday and he’d been amazed to see her there, after she’d practically booted him out of her apartment, and after another night of flaming sex. They really had to talk about that. He hauled his weary body into the house and followed voices into the kitchen. Sitting at the table were Billy and Crystal and—sweet Jesus, Bingo, tongue lolling out of his grinning mouth. Billy and Crystal were digging into bowls of…what was that? Ice cream? And Sera, standing beyond arm’s range of Bingo, was offering him a dog biscuit.
“Good boy,” she said, just a hint of a quiver in her voice. She stretched her hand out a little farther and Bingo delicately accepted the treat from her.
Ryan stopped in the door, taking in the scene. Bingo crunched the cookie, spewing crumbs all over the worn linoleum, which he proceeded to vacuum up with his mouth, crunching all the while. Sera looked up and saw him.
“Hi, Tommy.”
Damn, she was good. Nothing but a pleasant hello.
“Hi.” He looked at the kids. “What are you two doing over here? That’s not my ice cream you’re eating, is it?”
They grinned at his teasing. “Sara said we could have it!” Billy chortled. Crystal vigorously stirred her spoon through the melting treat in her bowl.
“Well, I guess it’s okay,” Ryan said with a smile. He walked over to Sara and put his arm around her shoulders. “Hey, babe. How
’re you?”
They didn’t need to put on the act in front of the kids. He did it because he wanted to, and also because he wanted some reaction from her. He wanted to annoy her. He wanted to drive her as crazy as she was making him. He wanted to know what she was feeling, thinking, about them…about the fact that they’d slept together and had off-the-charts hot sex more than a few times. Even if she shoved him away or scowled at him, at least it was something.
She leaned into him, flattened a palm on his chest. “I’m good. You?” When he looked into her eyes, he could see the genuine caring in the question.
“I’m bagged.” He stroked her hair. “Totally wiped.”
She made a soft sound of sympathy.
Ryan jerked his chin at the dog. “You let him in the house?”
The faintest flush of pink rose in her face. “Yeah. So?”
He could only imagine the courage it had taken her to do that, after her terrified reaction to the dog the other day. When he’d pulled those dog biscuits out of the shopping bag, he’d wondered what she planned to do with them, but hadn’t said anything. Now he knew.
“You two are friends now?” he murmured.
Her pink cheeks brightened. “Well, maybe not friends. But he’s okay.”
He hugged her tighter, then released her. “Can I have some of that ice cream? Or did these two ankle biters eat it all?”
She scooped ice cream into a bowl and handed it to him, and he was enjoying the cool creaminess sliding down his throat when the front doorbell rang. Then they heard voices calling out. “Hey, Tommy! You home?”
It was Vince. Ryan cut a glance at Sera. Jesus. Could he not have one night away from them? He’d just gotten back from his mother’s funeral, goddammit. But he swallowed his sigh.
He straightened from where he leaned against the counter and sauntered out into the living room. “Yeah, man, I’m here. Just got back.”
To his surprise, Vince came up to him and wrapped him a bear hug. “Man, I’m sorry about your mom,” Vince said. He squeezed tighter. “Real sorry.”
Ryan drew back in amazement and accepted another hug from Carly. “My condolences, Tommy,” she said. “That’s really shitty.”
“Uh…yeah.”
He found himself unable to speak. When he’d gone into the office for a few hours on Friday, he’d seen Darren and Josh, and so many others he worked with. Guys he’d worked with for years hadn’t said a word of sympathy to him at the loss of his mother, and yet this outlaw motorcycle gang member—a criminal for sure, a wife beater definitely, a murderer even, maybe—was hugging him and telling him he was sorry.
“Zocco and A.J. are comin’ over too,” Vince told hm. “To pay their respects.”
At moments like this, Ryan struggled to separate his real life from his pretend life, the fake life he’d created as part of his job. These guys he was investigating were people too, with emotions and lives, and it was difficult to reconcile the Vince he’d seen lay a beating on Carly only days ago with the man in front of him, sympathy shining in his eyes, almost more of a friend to him than anyone else.
Anyone except Sera. She’d been there for him.
And if all went according to plan, one day he’d be testifying against Vince in court and sending him to prison.
He swallowed hard as he heard Sera saying goodbye to Billy and Crystal and the mutt. Then she appeared and offered beers and they all sat down. Ryan didn’t want to talk a lot about his mom or the funeral, just the barest details, and the conversation turned to work coming up the next week and a couple more jobs Vince wanted Ryan to do.
He was happy to take up Vince’s offer but he desperately wanted to nail Zocco for that murder. So when Zocco showed up, also gave him a hug and slap on the back and some choked words of sympathy, Ryan had to focus hard on what he was trying to accomplish. The whole house was wired, so any conversations they had were captured, and he wondered if he could somehow get them talking about that murder.
But try as he might, making a conversational leap every time a possible opening came up, he couldn’t direct the talk that way without it seeming really weird. Dammit!
When Sera and Zocco disappeared into the kitchen, he considered following them to see if maybe a private convo could be started up with the man, but they returned too quickly. Sera left the room and returned a moment later and Ryan realized she’d just made another buy. How the hell did she get the money for that so fast? She must have done it last week while they were in L.A. Had Darren given her a hard time again? How much had she asked for?
When their guests all left near midnight, Ryan could hardly see straight. He’d had a couple of beers, a bowl of ice cream for dinner, and he was running on empty, digging deep for any energy he could find.
“You’re exhausted,” Sera told him as she picked up empties and carried them to the kitchen. “You take the bed tonight.”
So they were back to separate sleeping arrangements. “The bed’s big enough for us both,” he muttered through the fog of fatigue, yanking his shirt over his head even as he walked down the hall. “You can sleep there too. I won’t touch you, I promise.”
She followed him. “That’s okay.”
“Seriously, Sera. I’m so wiped I couldn’t get it up if you stripped and gave me a lap dance right now.”
She laughed. He was too tired to argue, though, so after shucking his boots, socks and jeans, he climbed into the bed, rolled to the far side and closed his eyes. There was room for her. She could sleep there if she wanted. If not…he was too tired to care.
Sera slept on the couch.
Tempting as it was to crawl between the sheets with Ryan, to press herself against his big, warm body, she knew she had to stay away. Sleeping with him had been awesome but probably not very smart under the circumstances.
She’d been kicking herself about telling him her crazy near-death experience story ever since. In those moments after sleeping with him and having seen him all unguarded after his mother’s death, she’d had a moment of weakness too, and had confided her story and her feeling of having a mission. She knew better than to let her guard down like that. It could only lead to trouble.
But she hated to admit how lonely she’d felt in her bed the last few nights without him. She rolled over on the lumpy couch and adjusted her pillow. She’d slept alone her whole life. Ryan was the first man she’d ever spent the night with. They’d really only spent two nights together—one here, one at her apartment in L.A. That was not enough for her to get used to him being there. She was just overreacting to everything, from the stress of the job, compassion for Ryan at his mother’s death. It wasn’t anything to do with Ryan himself.
She kicked off the blanket, too hot, and rolled to her back, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness. The drawn curtains in the living room kept the room nearly black.
She fell asleep, but her dreams tormented her. She was fighting something, chasing something, frustrated and unsuccessful, and it went on and on until she finally woke up. She struggled to remember what or whom she’d been fighting with in the dream, but couldn’t. Only the frustration lingered. She blew out a long sigh and sat up, now wide awake.
She debated turning on a light and reading a book or a magazine for a while, or maybe watching TV. What she really needed was an orgasm. That always helped when she couldn’t sleep. She leaned back, slipped her hand inside the boy shorts she’d worn to bed. Her fingers stroked through her soft folds, only slightly damp. She needed a good fantasy… Her thoughts slid immediately to Ryan. To the way he’d kissed her, the feel of his hard cock inside her, stroking deep, touching that place. She relived their last lovemaking, the unexpected bliss of him going down on her. God! She’d had oral sex before, but Ryan’s version had been mind-blowing. Heart-melting. The tender way he’d kissed and pulled at her sensitive flesh with his mouth sent shivers over her body all over again and had her wet.
A noise down the hall, the bedroom door opening, reached her ears. She jerked h
er hand out of her panties.
Manny wasn’t there; he’d stayed in L.A. for another night, so it had to be Ryan awake too. She turned to see him walk into the living room, rumpling his long hair with one hand, rubbing his bare stomach with the other.
“Hey, how come you’re awake?” he asked.
She fought for casual, her nipples tingling, her pussy aching and protesting at having relief snatched so rudely away. “I was having chasing dreams.”
“Huh?” He stared at her, his eyes dark in the dim light. She huffed a little laugh.
“Chasing dreams. You know. When you’re chasing something and you can’t catch it. Or you’re fighting with something, over and over.”
He blinked at her.
“Don’t you have those dreams?”
“Uh…maybe.” He ambled over and sat down beside her on the couch. “What were you chasing?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember. Sometimes I have dreams that are so real and I remember every detail. Other times, I know I was dreaming and I can’t remember a thing.”
“I don’t have dreams.”
She snorted. “Everyone has dreams.”
Silence settled around them. The heat of his half-naked body radiated toward her. He still wore only his boxer-briefs, snug black ones that hugged his tight butt and the bulge of his penis and testicles. She wanted that penis, inside her, wanted him over her, in her, her pussy aching to be filled. The satiny skin of his shoulders gleamed in the faint light and she longed to reach out and touch, stroke, lick…
She closed her eyes.
“So, what do you do about it when that happens?” Ryan asked.
“Uh…” She coughed.
“Huh? What?”
Her eyes flicked to the recording equipment, hidden in the corner of the room. She stood up and walked over to it, pulled it out and flicked a switch. Then she turned back to him.
“An orgasm usually helps me sleep.”
The expressions crossing his face were almost comical. His brows flew up, his eyes widened, his mouth opened. He snapped it shut, frowned, then smiled, a devilish, sexy smile. “I could help you with that.”
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