Divorced, Desperate And Dating

by Christie Craig

  “Well, hell yeah.” He stepped in front of her. “Is she still in town?”

  “No. And it’s not her. Why would she do this?”

  “Damn, Sue, you write about weirdos, but you haven’t got the good sense to know that some people are just screwed up. I can’t believe you’d keep something like this to yourself. Whoever is doing this is a real freak.”

  “I didn’t keep it to myself. I told Officer Martin.” She tried again with the chastising voice.

  He scowled. “You told that jerk but you couldn’t tell Chase or me?”

  Okay, so she didn’t have what it took to pull off chastisement, so she went with just plain old irritated. “If Lacy thought I was in danger she’d have canceled her vacation.” She held out her hands. “And until he started saying things like ‘die,’ I didn’t think I was in danger. As for not telling you…I had no reason to tell you anything. I still don’t. You don’t even like me. I talk and move too much. Remember?”

  Guilt ran through his eyes. “I never said I didn’t like you.”

  “The only reason you’re here is…I don’t even know why you’re here. You’re Chase’s and Lacy’s friend, not mine!”

  And just like that she knew why he was here. “Chase asked you to watch out for me, didn’t he?”

  Jason’s expression said it all.

  “Great! Scoop poop and take care of Sue.” She pointed toward her front door. “Go. I don’t need a babysitter.” She placed her hands on his chest to help him on his way. He didn’t budge.

  “I’m not leaving.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’m not going anywhere until this freak has been caught.” He brought her closer. “You’re stuck with me.” There was a low, sexy growl to his tone.

  She grew uncomfortably aware of how close their bodies were. And that perfect-fit feeling hit again. “You can’t stay here.”

  “Why not?” His hands glided up to her shoulder blades, then slowly moved to circle her waist.

  “Because I don’t want you to.” Her words sounded weak, not how she’d meant them.

  “You need me.” He lowered his face. His cheek, with day-old whiskers, brushed against hers. This close, she could definitely see the heat in his eyes.

  “I don’t need you.”

  She might want him badly, but she truly didn’t need him. She’d learned during her financially lean days how to distinguish between a want and a need. A want made you temporarily happy but wasn’t crucial to sustaining life. Some wants were even bad for you in the long run. Jason Dodd would definitely be bad for her. They would have over-the-handlebars, no-pedal-brakes sex and then what? He’d tire of her because he didn’t really like her. Definitely a want, not a need.

  “You need me.” His pressed his forehead against hers. “Someone is trying to hurt you. I’m not going to let that happen.”

  His breath whispered across her lips, and she found it a little hard to breathe.

  “No.” She pulled her face back, away from his lips. “You’ve got to go.” But she knew he made sense. She did need someone to protect her. She wrote about heroines who fought the bad guys and won, but she’d proven she wasn’t one of them. Even with the gun in her purse, she’d—

  “You need—”

  “I’ll find someone else to protect me.” She couldn’t allow Jason to needle his way into her life. She’d wind up broken and hurt. Lord knew she’d been hurt enough to last a lifetime. To have anything to do with Jason Dodd was like opening up her chest, handing him a hammer, and telling him to go for it.

  She blinked at his unhappy expression. “I’ll call the police and ask for some references.” She stepped back, but he held on and moved in even closer. His thigh pressed between her legs.

  Zip.

  Zing.

  His leg felt nice between hers.

  “I am the police. Consider that a reference.” His moist lips brushed her cheek. “You smell so good.”

  He smelled good, too. A little like coffee, with…the natural scent of how a man should smell: earthy but clean.

  “Let me stay here until this blows over.”

  And then he’d be gone. “You can’t.” But she leaned against him, into him. Just for a second, she told herself.

  “Then I’ll just camp out on your doorstep.” His lower body brushed up against her lower body. “Frankly, I like being close.” His lips swept against her temple. “And I think you’re finding it nice, too.” He glanced down to where her breasts were pressed against his abdomen. She followed his gaze—and went on instant nipple alert.

  He moved in, as if purposely brushing against the two sensitive points. Pleasure had her melting into her pan ties. Why was telling him no so hard? She swallowed and realized something else had become hard. It didn’t belong to her, but it was pressed against her navel.

  Good Gawd! What was she doing? Hadn’t she discussed this very thing with her ficus tree last night?

  “This has to stop.” She pulled away. “And it has to stop right now.” It really did.

  He held up his hands. “You’re right.” The heat in his gaze faded. “Now isn’t the time. I need a list of everyone who’s read your book. I need names, phone numbers. I should probably read the book myself.” His gaze moved down her legs and inched up again. “But first…you have to get out of those shorts. They’re driving me crazy.”

  And just like that, the heat in his gaze flared back up. He reached out, his index finger hooked her belt loop and he tugged her closer. “Then again, maybe what we need to do is get this stuff out of the way.”

  “No stuff is happening.” Pulling his finger out of her belt loop, she stepped back.

  His gaze lowered to her chest, to her nipples pebbling through the thin cotton top. “Why not?”

  “Because…” She pointed a finger at him. “You have issues, and I’m finished dealing with issues. And stop…stop staring at my boobs!”

  His eyes shot up but he grinned. “What issues? Besides staring at your…boobs. Which, in my defense, are really nice to look at.”

  He stepped closer. His sexy, self-assured gait came off way too tempting. She stormed off to her bedroom to change clothes. Yet, even as she went, feeling slightly embarrassed and a lot cautious, the tickle of feminine power brushed over her. Jason Dodd might not have wanted her four months ago, but now was another story. Turnaround was fair play. And this time, she was the one who was going to turn him down.

  “You’re not staying,” she called over her shoulder.

  Her tone didn’t even convince herself. Guess she needed to work on her convincing voice, too.

  CHAPTER NINE

  You’re not staying.

  Sue’s words echoed inside Jason’s head, but she hadn’t convinced him. Not for a second. Not when someone was out to hurt her.

  Stop staring at my boobs. A smile pulled at his lips. He hadn’t lied; they were really nice to look at.

  Then the image of her prancing down the hall replayed in his head. Damn, she had the cutest ass he’d ever seen. Why hadn’t he ever noticed it before? Because she’d always been wearing dresses, skirts, or long shirts that hid the treasure.

  The slamming door should have made him flinch, but nope. His smile held tight. In spite of being afraid for Sue, and madder than hell that someone was putting her through this, he still felt…happy. As if someone had just handed him a new lease on life.

  He’d returned to the kitchen to see if Sue had any soda when the phone rang.

  The phone. Shit! Realizing the call could be the stalker, he turned and snatched it off the counter. “Don’t answer yet!” he yelled as he took off for the bedroom. “Don’t answer.” He got to her bedroom door. For a split second he considered knocking, but not wanting her to pick up before he got to her, he let himself in.

  She shot him a quick look, but her concern appeared directed at the ringing phone. “It says it’s restricted. All those calls are generally from him.” Panic sounded in her voice.

  “Sue?” Jason p
ut his thumb on the talk button in case she snatched up the phone. “We’re going to answer it at the same time so I can listen in. Okay?”

  “It could be my mom, calling from Elvis’s phone. Maybe he had his number placed on the restricted list.” Her panicked gaze shot to him. “She calls a lot whenever she discovers her new disease. But I think sex with Elvis cured her.”

  Disease? Jason quit trying to understand and sat Sue down on the side of the bed. Then he sat beside her. “You ready?”

  The phone rang a fourth time.

  Her soft blue eyes had that frightened little girl look that made him want to wrap his arms around her. He resisted the urge and handed her the phone. They hit the buttons at the same time.

  Sue brought the phone to her ear. “Hello?” Her voice sounded tight. Scared.

  No one answered. Silence. And then…“Don’t fight it.”

  Her scared gaze shot to Jason.

  “The police can’t protect you,” the gravelly voice continued. It was raspy and low, but Jason couldn’t tell the gender.

  “Die sweetly,” the voice continued. “Slowly. Die, sweet Sue. Die.”

  A shot of adrenaline hit Jason’s gut. The line clicked silent.

  The phone slipped from Sue’s hands and crashed onto the wood floor. The batteries dislodged from the phone and rolled in different directions.

  Because one of them needed to be calm, Jason fought back his own knee-to-the-gut reaction. “It’s okay. We’re going to catch this bastard.” He pulled Sue close. Her face fit into the curve of his shoulder. He felt her trembling. Pressing a hand to her upper back, he expected her to start crying on his shirt again. Not pretty, but he didn’t care.

  Instead of leaking on his shirt, she pulled herself free. “Who does he think he is?”

  “I don’t know.” Jason brushed her hair behind her ear and felt an odd sense of rightness being there with her. In her house. In her bedroom. In her bed.

  The scent of sleepy woman filled his nose. Just like that, the familiar tightness hit his lower abs again. He fought it. Right feeling, wrong time.

  She popped off the bed. Jason watched her pace from one side of the room to the other. He recognized her reaction all too well; he’d seen it in a number of victims. Anger was always a short walk from fear and panic. And while most people could deal with being angry, fear gave people a run for their money. The problem was that anger took a lot of energy, and unless getting angry could solve the problem, a person generally ended smack dab back in fear, only they were exhausted from the emotional ride.

  Not that she’d have to suffer exhaustion alone. He’d be there.

  Die sweetly. Slowly. Die, sweet Sue. Die. The voice from the phone replayed in his head, and Jason gripped his hands together.

  “We’re going to get this guy,” he said again, feeling helpless at fixing her emotional havoc but damn near certain he’d fix her other problem. He would catch this creep.

  Sue continued to pace. And for the first time, he noticed what she wore. Or what she didn’t wear. Her white T-shirt dangled mid-hip. Below, she wore…The tightening in his stomach came back threefold.

  Below, she wore white bikini pan ties. Cotton, but they couldn’t have been sexier. They fit her like a glove. And when she turned around he caught a glimpse of just how shapely her behind really was. Round. Perky. What he wouldn’t give to remove that piece of white cotton.

  For a second, he allowed himself to just enjoy the view, but then reality sneaked back in. Heightened emotions could easily lead to sexual arousal, but bedding a woman high on emotion was like bedding one who’d had too much liquor. The sex might be fantastic, but the awkward aftershock was considered by most females to be fatal to the relationship. To a male’s way of thinking, it simply meant the chances of repeat sex were almost nil. And one time with Sue wasn’t going to sate him.

  Plus, he had to stay on her good side while he made sure some idiot didn’t carry out this death threat. Yes, the sex between them was going to be great, but he had to do it right.

  A pair of khaki shorts on the bed caught his attention. He’d probably regret this later, but he did it anyway. Picking them up, he handed them over. “Here, get dressed.”

  She yanked the khakis from his hands, unsnapped them, and slid her bare feet and slender legs into the shorts. “Who does he think he is?” she repeated.

  “I don’t know.” Unable to resist, he gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. Very quick. Considering what he would like to do, he should win a medal for not doing more. A big gold one. “But we’re going to find out.”

  He ran a finger over her lips, fought the desire to go back for seconds since she didn’t seem to object to the first course. But he knew if she wasn’t riding a wave of emotion right now, she’d be giving him hell.

  Turning her around, and with only a slight amount of guilt, he put his hands on her backside, allowing himself the pleasure of touching her butt before giving it a gentle push toward the door. “Now let’s get out of the bedroom before I forget my manners.”

  Moving down the hall, he knew he had to stop thinking like a man and start thinking like a cop. Die sweetly. Slowly. Die, sweet Sue. Die. The voice replayed in his head. And the cop inside him reared its head. He let out a hissing breath and accepted that Sue probably wasn’t the only one riding that emotional high. Who was this asshole? His mind went back to the doctor. Then to Sue’s agent. Jason replayed the voice again in his head. Sue had referred to the caller as a guy, and his gut agreed, but the voice had been so raspy, it could have been either gender.

  Questions flipped through his mind. He needed answers. The sooner the better.

  Something also told him they weren’t finished discussing his staying here. He had no problem discussing it. He’d discuss it until the cows came home…but he wasn’t leaving.

  Sue found that being angry felt so much better than being afraid. Reaching down to her shorts’ Velcroed pocket, she yanked it loose. The resultant sound, a crackling pop, felt good to her ears.

  Jason led her to the wounded sofa and started firing questions at her.

  Frustrated, she shot back, “No! I don’t think Melissa would do this.” She yanked the pocket loose again. Rip. “And no, I don’t think my editor would do it.”

  “Then who?” he asked.

  Rip.

  “Well, if I knew that, I could just have Officer Martin arrest the guy for me.”

  Jason’s brow pinched. “Martin’s a jerk. Tell me about this critique group of yours.”

  Oh yeah. Anger won hands down over being afraid. But anger came with its own downside. No focus. She found herself getting mad at everyone. Officer Martin, for believing this was a scam. The fat cop, for shooting her sofa. Goliath for sniffing the man’s crotch. And, oh yeah, her mom, for making juice with Elvis.

  Rip.

  Needing to spend some of the emotional energy zipping through her, she went to the kitchen to snag some coffee. Caffeine poured, she plopped down at the breakfast table. Jason took the chair beside her to continue his interrogation.

  “So all three of these guys have read it?” he asked, taking notes.

  “Well, yeah. That’s what critique groups do. They read each other’s work.” She reached for the pocket, fingering the tab. Jason’s suspicions of her critique group brought on another wave of anger.

  Rip.

  And when she thought about the critique group, she remembered Benny’s crush on her, and she got mad at him for forcing her to use the dead-dog trick. Even if it saved her from bruising his ego, the man would always think she had bad breath. And by gosh, she flossed regularly. It was unhealthy not to.

  Rip! Replace pocket. Rip. Rip. Rip.

  She really liked that sound. So fitting to her mood.

  Jason eyed her pocket, looking as if he was going to ask her to stop, but he didn’t. Smart man.

  But his questions continued, and so did her anger.

  He wanted to know everything, from the names of the editors
who’d read her novel to the art directors who’d been given the synopsis to help design the cover.

  “I didn’t like that guy.” She figured that before her fury frenzy finished she’d be mad at everyone she’d ever met.

  “Who? The copy editor or the artist?”

  “Both. The artist wanted to take me to his place and show me his etchings, and the copy editor said I needed to take a grammar course. It’s not my fault he doesn’t speak or read Texan. He got insulted when I proved him right.”

  “I’ll check them out. What about the book reviewers? Who has seen an early copy?”

  “My publisher sent out ARCs—advance review copies. Lots of them. You’ll have to get that list from them.” She leaned her head back, emotionally strung out. No more anger to spend.

  Then Jason suggested she whip up something for them to eat, and she got mad at her mom for never teaching her to cook. Which led to her getting mad at her grandmother, and her grandmother’s mother. Sue came from a long line of women who couldn’t cook. Ancestral anger ran deep.

  Finally, she came to her senses and got mad at Jason for thinking it was the woman’s place to cook.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I thought you loved to cook.”

  “Why? Because I’m a woman?” She reached for her pocket again. Rip. Replace.

  “No. Because you said you loved to cook on that cooking show you were on.”

  She shook her head. “You saw that?”

  He held up his hands, as though agreeing he’d been presumptuous. “I’ll cook, you relax.”

  When he disappeared into the kitchen, Sue tried to do as he suggested: relax. But her skin tingled, and she remembered Jason pulling her against him before she’d gone to the bedroom. Remembered him staring at her breasts, and she hadn’t even been wearing the Wonderbra. She remembered the way it had felt being close to him, the sensation of her tight nipples brushing up against his chest. Then she recalled that he’d kissed her in the bedroom. Not a hot and heavy kiss like four months ago, but a kiss. Sweet. Simple.