“Am I?”
“Yes.”
Okay, maybe he was. He had given Roland his word to protect her and he took his promises seriously. “Alright, let’s agree on a truce,” he said. “I promise to try to be more flexible if you’ll stop resisting me all the time. Agreed?”
For a long moment their gazes held and then she said, “Yes, I agree. Considering everything, I know I need to be protected, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t.” He didn’t say anything for a few moments and then added, “Trust me, Margo, I know exactly how it feels to get your freedom taken away.”
She frowned. “No. Don’t compare my situation with yours, Striker. What I’m going through is nothing compared to what you had to endure all those years. I can’t possibly imagine.”
She was right. She couldn’t. But neither would he lessen what she was dealing with. “So, from here on out, we’re good?”
“We’re good,” she said, standing and sliding her chair under the table.
Striker covered the distance separating them. “Let’s shake on it,” he said, offering her his hand.
She looked at his hand. “Shake on what?”
“On our truce.”
“Really? Is that necessary?”
Striker forced a smile to his lips. She was hesitating and a part of him knew why. He wasn’t made of stone and remembered what had happened the last time they shook hands. The moment their hands had touched yesterday, a pang of intense desire had shot through him. He’d felt it and had known she’d felt it as well. “I believe a person’s word is their bond, and we need to shake on it.”
“I said I agreed to a truce, Striker.”
“I know you did. But why are you against sealing the deal with a handshake?” He knew he was playing with fire, but he didn’t care. A part of him enjoyed pushing her buttons.
She lifted her chin. “I am not against it.”
“Then let’s do it.”
Narrowing her gaze at him, she took the hand he offered.
CHAPTER NINE
JUST LIKE IT HAD YESTERDAY, an intense rush of yearning tore through Margo the moment her hand touched Striker’s. But unlike yesterday, now she did not want to snatch her hand back. She needed to know, to understand, why there was this powerful desire whenever they touched. If she was truly honest with herself, she would admit the desire was also there whenever she looked at him.
While she had dated a few times, she hadn’t been intimate with a man since her breakup with Scott; however, she doubted that could be it. Sex between her and Scott hadn’t been all that frequent and it definitely left a lot to be desired. Could it be that Striker was such a dominant male in looks, build and sexuality that all that raw desire oozing from him had an effect on her whether she wanted it to or not?
She wasn’t pulling her hand from his, but why wasn’t he ending the handshake? And was she imagining it or was the air surrounding them suddenly charged with an electric awareness? The man and woman kind? A mere touch from Scott had never affected her like this. Not only was she fully aware of this man, but she was responsive to the intense heat he generated.
She continued to hold his gaze. Call it woman’s intuition, but she had a good idea of what he was feeling. And the look in his eyes was definitely telling her what he was thinking. The gaze roaming over her was blatant, sexual and bold.
Her nipples tightened to hardened buds. When had they ever done that? Definitely not whenever Scott was looking at them the way Striker was doing. He was arousing her as no other man had before.
Margo felt a gentle tug on her hand and realized he was slowly easing her toward him. Now was the time to yank her hand free, but for some reason, she couldn’t. And when he tightened his hold on her hand and continued to stare down at her with a gaze that almost took her breath away, she felt her senses infused with mind-numbing desire.
He shifted his stance to lean closer to her and began lowering his head toward hers. He started nipping lightly at her mouth. She could no longer deny what was taking over her mind and her body. Nor could she dismiss the hungry throb of her lips that wanted to be fully taken by his.
The tiny nips continued. Was he intentionally trying to drive her crazy by playing with her mouth instead of giving her a full, heated kiss? Surely he could hear her tiny moans, the way her breath was being forced from her lungs. Then finally with a confidence that shot arousal through every part of her body, he fully covered her mouth with his.
Margo felt his tongue enter her mouth, glide slowly around before finally touching hers, capturing it and proceeding to suck on it. She’d barely gotten the chance to familiarize herself with Striker’s taste when his phone rang. Muttering a curse, he released her mouth to answer. Margo drew in a deep breath while thinking she should be thankful for the intrusion; it had shocked some sense into her.
She needed to get away from him, escape into her workroom, try to forget all about that short—yet satisfying—kiss and begin work on Claudine’s wedding gown. She wanted to be any place but here when Striker ended the call. But the tenseness in his voice and his glance her way told Margo the call was about her, so she decided for the time being to stay put. He was no longer saying anything. Just nodding every so often while keeping his gaze firmly on her.
The call lasted a few moments longer and then he said, “Okay, keep me posted,” before clicking off the phone.
“What was that about?” she asked, taking the chance he might tell her that it wasn’t any of her business.
He rubbed his face as if he was frustrated about something. “An arrest has been made.”
She threw her hand to her throat. Surprised. Elated. “They got the assassin?”
He shrugged. “The federal agents think so.”
She studied his expression and saw the definite lack of jubilance. “But you don’t?”
“Let’s just say I choose to err on the side of caution. I’m willing to wait it out and see.”
Wait it out? For how long? Did that mean he had no intention of packing up and leaving based on the assumption she was now safe? “So, what do you suggest we do now?”
He rubbed his face again. “The final decision will have to come from your uncle, but I suggest we continue as planned until we know for certain they have the right guy.”
Continue as planned? Margo wanted to ask exactly how long that might be, but she didn’t. Instead she began backing up, needing time by herself to think. And give herself a good scolding for letting him kiss her.
“Fine. I’ll go along with whatever you and my uncle decide. In the meantime, like you suggested, I will err on the side of caution. Now I need to go online and order the materials for Claudine’s wedding gown. And before you remind me, I know to stay away from the window.”
And then she turned and hurried out of the kitchen.
* * *
STRIKER FOLLOWED HER as far as the living room and stood by the sofa. From his position he could see her sit down at her workroom computer. It was only then that he crossed to the fireplace and stared at the flames. What the hell had happened in her kitchen? The desire he’d felt for her had shocked him to the core. And when he’d kissed her, he hadn’t wanted to stop. The kiss had packed a wallop but had been way too short.
When had a woman—a woman he was protecting—made him lose control? What was there about her that whenever he touched her, something inside of him would snap, make him even more aware of her as a woman? A woman he wanted.
With that admission, he drew in a sharp breath, clenched his jaw and tightened his hands into fists at his sides. He needed to start thinking with the right head and not the one that wanted like hell to get inside of her. It wasn’t that kind of party, especially with her. He needed to rope in his horny thoughts and concentrate on what he
promised Roland he would do—protect her.
Needing to see her again, he walked back to the sofa and stared into the workroom. She hadn’t moved. And at that moment, as if she felt his gaze on her, she looked up from her computer. Damn. He felt it again. Desire so intense it was like a living element, stirring across his skin, being inhaled through his nose and getting absorbed into his body. That was the last thing he wanted or needed, and he immediately broke eye contact with her and walked into the kitchen for another cup of coffee.
What the hell had happened to bring on this turn of events? They had been at odds until agreeing to a truce. In this case, a cease-fire between them might not have been such a good idea after all. Once their hands had touched to shake on it, some sort of dam had broken and it was on. He didn’t want to think what would have happened had he not gotten that call, and was thankful for the interruption. By rights, he should have known better. But deep down, he knew why he’d done it. He’d needed to see if the desire he’d felt when he touched her yesterday had been real or a figment of his imagination.
It had definitely been real.
He was trying to hold on to his sanity where Margo was concerned. The last thing he needed was to let her become his passion. Something he thought he couldn’t do without. He thought of something else that used to be his passion. Football.
It had been his dream to one day play for the NFL. Chances were he would have done so, but he hadn’t followed his mother’s orders about Wade. She didn’t care how much he loved football, didn’t care how much it had become his passion. She felt that the important thing was for him to look after Wade while she worked nights. Not wanting to miss any football practices, he’d thought that he’d found the best solution. In the end, he’d lost his brother because he had refused to give up something that had become a passion of his. Never again would he let something like that happen. Roland had entrusted Margo to him...just like his mother had entrusted Wade to him. Although his mother never blamed him for anything, he’d always blamed himself.
Striker knew that he and Margo needed to talk. Set things straight. What had happened in her kitchen couldn’t happen again. No touching. No kissing. Yes, definitely no kissing. He was here to protect her, not lust after her. And the last thing he could do was let her get under his skin and start thinking foolish thoughts about her. Hadn’t he promised himself years ago to never get attached to a woman? If he ever fell in love, he’d be risking losing her the same way he’d lost others that he’d loved.
Raising the coffee cup to his lips, he was about to take a sip when his phone rang again. He pulled in another frustrated breath when he saw the call was from Frazier Connelly.
“This is Striker,” he said into the phone.
“Striker, this is Frazier. Not sure if you’ve heard, but the authorities got their guy, which means your services are no longer needed.”
Striker shook his head. He’d been afraid Connelly would think that way. “An arrest means nothing, Frazier. Too early.”
“The FBI just ended a news conference. They seem confident they have the right guy.”
Don’t they always? Striker thought angrily. He could clearly recall men he’d befriended while in the slammer, who were innocent. The situation involving Sheppard Granger quickly came to mind. Shep had been locked up for fifteen years for killing his wife, and the real murderers had still been out there killing others.
“I feel confident the FBI knows what they’re talking about, so I’m relieving you of your services and—”
“You didn’t hire me, Frazier. Roland Summers did and I stay put until he says otherwise,” Striker cut in.
Frazier got quiet for a minute and then snapped, “Fine. I’ll talk to Roland to let him know my position.”
“Yeah, you do that. Good-bye.” Striker clicked off the phone.
Certain Margo had heard his cell ring, he went back into the living room. She was watching him. Did she know the caller had been her uncle? Needing to talk to her, he was walking toward the workroom when his phone rang again. This time it was Roland.
“Yes, Roland?”
“The FBI thinks they have their guy.”
‘So I heard,” Striker said, still holding Margo’s gaze.
“I want you to stay put,” Roland said.
“Connelly just called to relieve me of my duties.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Roland said angrily.
“I basically told him that and he wasn’t too happy about it, so expect a call from him.”
Striker noticed that Margo had finally broken eye contact with him to resume working on her computer. “Do you know what I think, Roland?”
“What?”
“That you and Connelly need to get together and work things out. Reach an agreement. It’s obvious that although there’re ill feelings from all the shit that happened years ago, the two of you strongly agree on one thing, at least.”
“What’s that?”
“Keeping Margo safe.”
* * *
MARGO DREW IN a deep breath as she tried concentrating on keying information into her computer. Striker was staring at her. She knew it because she could feel the intensity of his gaze. Why couldn’t she forget about that kiss? The feel of his mouth against hers? His tongue sucking on hers? Why even now was her entire body still tingling from head to toe?
If the call hadn’t come in, would he have kept on kissing her or would she have eventually stopped him? For some reason, she doubted it. She’d barely gotten a taste of him but had enjoyed what she had gotten and ashamedly admitted she had wanted more from Lamar “Striker” Jennings.
Something he’d said earlier piqued her memory as well as her curiosity. He wasn’t overly fond of his first name. Why? At the time he’d said it, she’d been too annoyed with him to question him about it. But at some point, she would. And then there were those two phone calls he’d received. He’d been looking at her while talking on the phone. It was times like this that she wished she had the ability to read lips. Had he received more news about the man that had been arrested? Was there confirming evidence he was the assassin the authorities had been looking for?
She felt a presence beside her and jerked around, finding Striker standing next to her chair. She placed her hand on her chest to still her heart. Her pulse was racing like crazy. She hadn’t heard him enter her office. “Striker, you scared me.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to, but we need to talk. Your uncle Frazier wants to relieve me of my duties here since an arrest has been made. However, Roland agrees that I should stay awhile to make sure they got the right man.”
“So what’s the verdict? Do you stay or leave?”
“Connelly will be talking to Roland. Hopefully Roland will convince him why it’s important that you’re not left unprotected, even with the recent turn of events.”
“Okay, let me know what’s decided.” She didn’t want to think of the possibility that the wrong man had been arrested and the real assassin was still out there, getting ready to kill again.
She turned back to her computer, and when he continued to stand there, she glanced back up at him. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“You know what, Margo, but in case you need me to spell it out for you, we need to talk about what happened between us earlier in your kitchen.”
“Oh, that,” she said, hoping to make light of what he was referring to and dismiss it. “It was nothing.”
Striker looked at her. “It was something. And we need to agree that whatever it was has no place here. My job is to protect you and nothing more.”
“That’s fine because you won’t get anything more,” she snapped. “You keep your hands and lips to yourself and I’ll do the same. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.”
A part of Margo was angry, but another part knew she should appreciate his directness and his willingness to not dismiss what had happened like she’d tried to do.
When he didn’t walk off, she looked up at him.
“Is there anything else, Striker?” she asked curtly.
“No, I guess not. However, I’d like to hear your thoughts on what happened in your kitchen. Our kiss.”
She shrugged. Why did he care about her thoughts, since he’d already decreed how it would be between them? But he was standing there, undoubtedly waiting on a response, so she said, “I prefer not to talk about or think about it. In fact, I want to forget that anything happened. You’ve told me your position and I agree. What happened should not have happened. To be honest with you, I don’t even know why it did.”
He looked at her strangely. “You don’t know why it happened?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not dim-witted, Striker. I knew yesterday that we were attracted to each other. But I also know that we’re both adults and I honestly didn’t expect...”
When she didn’t finish, he asked, “Didn’t expect what?”
“I didn’t expect the attraction to almost get the best of us. I don’t understand that. I guess we should be glad we were saved by your phone before things got too far out of hand.”
“Yes, I guess we should be glad about that.”
He then turned and walked out of her workroom, leaving her to believe that, deep down, he wasn’t glad about it any more than she was.
CHAPTER TEN
UPON HEARING MARGO moving around in her bedroom, Striker swung his feet over the side of the bed to sit up. After talking with Roland, Frazier had agreed for Striker to stay on with a firm understanding that if there weren’t any more killings they would assume—like everyone else—that the authorities had arrested the right man.
It had been four days since the arrest was made and so far there hadn’t been another murder. That could be good news or it could be that Erickson was just fucking around with everyone and had deliberately framed an innocent man.
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