“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to be your bowling partner tonight.”
She wrinkled her nose. “If you spoil our winning streak I’m going to hurt you, Rafe Madison.” Not only was her team undefeated, but she and Micah had earned highest league scores among the men and women.
“Whatcha gonna do to me, baby?” he whispered.
“You don’t want to know.” She gave him a sassy grin when he winked at her.
Knowing no one was going to harm Simone with dozens of police officers around her, Rafe went to select a pair of shoes and a ball. It was apparent she’d adjusted to her present situation because she was smiling more than scowling, joking rather than protesting. He’d enjoyed cooking with her, even if he’d done most of it.
* * *
Simone was on her feet, her gaze fixed intently on Rafe. Whenever it was his turn to bowl, those in nearby lanes stopped whatever they were doing to watch him. She wasn’t certain whether it was technique or luck, but the results were awesome. He’d just bowled his seventh consecutive strike.
“I’m impressed,” she said, complimenting him when he sat down. “And I’ll have you know that I’m not very easily impressed.”
A dazzling smile deepened the lines around his eyes. “Neither am I.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve impressed me, too.”
Simone gave him a skeptical look. “I’m not the one on track to bowl a perfect game.”
“Have you ever bowled a three hundred?”
Shaking her head, Simone watched Tessa’s follow-through. She’d knocked down her spare. “I’ve come close. What about you?”
Rafe lifted a broad shoulder. “I’ve done it once or twice.”
NYPD Sergeant Justin Jamison took a long swallow from a bottle of beer, narrowing his gaze at Rafe. “Look, Sandy, you know the rules. No ringers.”
Simone popped up like a jack-in-the-box. “Who are you calling a ringer, Justin?”
He’d asked her out once, and she’d accepted. Although divorced, he couldn’t stop talking about his ex-wife. And what Justin refused to understand when he called to ask Simone out again was why she’d turned him down. It was apparent he was unable to accept rejection because after that he’d suddenly turned on her as if she were a bitter enemy.
The homicide detective glared at her. “I wasn’t talking to you, Curly Sue.”
Rafe rose slowly to his feet and took Simone’s arm. Even though he didn’t need Simone to defend him he wasn’t going to stand by and let the obviously inebriated man get in her face.
“Look, man, you need to watch your mouth,” he threatened softly.
Micah shot the man a warning look. “And I think you should lay off the beer.” A female vice detective forcibly pried the beer bottle from Justin’s hand.
The others on Jamison’s team groaned in unison while rolling their eyes at him. “What the hell are you looking at?” he asked his teammates.
The vice detective rubbed Jamison’s shaved head, then kissed it. “They’re spanking us, Sarge, so suck it up.”
“Let go of my arm, Rafe,” Simone whispered angrily when he steered her a short distance away.
“Only if you promise me you won’t go after someone who’s had a little too much to drink.”
“But he accused us of cheating.”
“It’s okay.”
“But it’s not okay, Rafe.”
He angled his head and glared her. “Let it go, Simone.”
“I—”
“Enough, Simone.” His warning was spoken softly. “If I haul you out of here now, then your team is going to have to forfeit the game. Remember, the ringer is only filling in for tonight.”
The fact that Rafe referred to himself as a ringer made her pause. “You’re not a professional bowler, are you?”
“No, I’m not. Please, let’s finish this game so we can go home.”
“I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?”
“We’ve been invited to Micah’s folks’ house on Sunday for a cookout and…”
“And what?” Rafe asked when her words trailed off.
“After we leave Faith and Ethan’s I’m not going back to White Plains.”
“Where are you going?”
“Franklin Lakes. I’ve been invited to spend the night with the Sanborns.”
Rafe shook his head. “Not without me, Simone. Remember, where you go, I go.”
She gave him a facetious smile. “Why did I know you’d say that?”
“Probably because you know that I’m not going to succumb to your seductive wiles.”
Her delicate jaw dropped. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve got more than half the men here lusting after you. All you have to do is smile and they melt like butter.”
With wide eyes, she shot him an incredulous stare. “I’m not interested in any of these men.”
“That’s a good thing because I’d hate to act a fool every Wednesday night.”
Rafe didn’t miss the admiring male stares directed at Simone, or the whispered innuendos about her face and body. He wanted to tell them that the woman he’d been assigned to protect was not only forbidden and unobtainable, but also unavailable. What he found objectionable was that most of the men were married.
“You won’t have to act a fool much longer because next Wednesday is our last night.”
“Good. Now, what’s up with Saturday?”
“I’ll let Micah know that you’re coming, too.”
He wanted to ask Simone if they were expected to share a bedroom because if they were, then it would complicate everything. It was one thing to sleep in the same house and quite another to sleep in the same bed.
The next-to-last game of the season ended with Rafe bowling a perfect three hundred and Simone a two thirty-eight, her highest score to date, allowing her team to remain in first place as the only undefeated team in the league.
Simone moved closer to Rafe, her hand cradled protectively in his as they stood in the parking lot talking to Tessa and Micah.
“Are you ready for some football?” Micah crooned singsong.
“I think I should warn you that whenever the Sanborns get together on Sundays there’s always a friendly game of football,” Tessa said to Rafe. “Do you think you’re up to the task?”
Staring down at Simone’s upturned face, Rafe found himself mesmerized by the glowing eyes under the overhead lights in the brightly lit lot. There was the faintest glimmer of a smile on his lips when his gaze met and fused with hers. “Not only am I ready, but I’m looking forward to it.”
Micah extended his hand. “Thanks again for filling in.”
Rafe shook his hand. “I’m glad I could help out.”
“You were awesome,” Tessa complimented softly. “Are you certain you’re not a professional bowler?”
“Why is everyone asking me that?”
“Who else asked you that?” Micah asked.
“Simone. I just happen to have excellent eye-hand coordination.”
Micah chuckled. “How’s your throwing arm?”
A swollen hush ensued before Rafe said, “It’ll do.”
As he bade Micah and Simone’s sister good-night, he replayed the former cop’s query about his throwing arm. It’d been more than ten years, but he still could throw an eighty-mile-an-hour fastball. His curve and sinker balls weren’t too bad, either. There’d been a time in his life when throwing a baseball had become as vital to him as taking his next breath. He’d openly challenged his father when he skipped his chores to spend hours with his high school’s pitching coach perfecting sinkers, sidearm curves and fastballs. Major and minor league scouts came to every game to watch him strike out batter after batter with ninety-plus-per-hour fastballs.
The Superman character had come from fictional Smallville, Kansas. But the great state of Kansas had spawned a real superhero in the likes of Raphael Madison. The Ks hanging from the
high school outfield bleachers representing the number of strikeouts belonged to their local hero: Captain Kryptonite.
Baseball had saved him, his mother and his sister. The money he’d been paid when he signed a MLB contract saved his father’s farm, but all the money in the world couldn’t save Gideon Madison from an illness for which there was no cure.
The two couples bid each other good-night with a promise to see one another on Saturday before making their way to their respective vehicles and heading out in opposite directions. Rafe made it back to White Plains in record time, exceeding the speed limit by more than fifteen miles an hour. He maneuvered into the driveway to the house ablaze with light from first-and second-story windows.
“You can hold on to that set of keys,” Simone said when Rafe locked the door behind them. “I have an extra set.”
Pocketing the keys, Rafe set the alarm. “I’m going to put up a pot of coffee. Would you like some?”
She gave him a long, penetrating look. Rafe living with her was a persistent reminder that her life was not her own to live as she’d planned. And his presence was also a constant reminder that it’d been years since she’d shared her home with a man.
Simone forced a smile. “No, thank you. Good night.” She walked out of the entryway and made her way to the staircase.
The seconds ticked off before Rafe said, “Good night, Simone.”
CHAPTER 5
After his third cup of black coffee, Rafe felt the caffeine racing through his veins like jet fuel, firing his body’s sensory receptors. The feeling of agitation was preferable to ruminating about the woman under whose roof he would reside for an indefinite amount of time. She wasn’t the first female he’d been assigned to protect, but there was something about Simone that made him blatantly aware of their gender differences.
Time stood still and everything around him ceased to exist when he’d kissed her in the bowling alley parking lot and, for a nanosecond, she’d responded. And what he couldn’t forget was her shocked expression. Was it because she hadn’t expected him to kiss her or was it because she was aware that he’d enjoyed tasting her mouth?
Rafe closed his eyes, and in his mind he could still see her incredibly beautiful face. It was ironic that he hadn’t known Simone Whitfield twenty-four hours, yet could mentally recall everything about her: the way the light played off the varying colors of her curly hair, full lips with a perpetual pout and a lush, curvy body designed to drive any normal man crazy. He opened his eyes and glanced over at the clock on the microwave. In another twenty minutes, it would be midnight. He had to get at least five hours of sleep or he would be less than alert.
Pushing to his feet, he walked over to the sink, rinsed the coffee mug, leaving it in the sink. It took another ten minutes to check all of the windows and extinguish the lights throughout the first level of the house. His footfalls were heavy when he climbed the staircase to the second story. Slowing, he stopped outside the door to Simone’s bedroom. Listening intently, he encountered silence before continuing down the hallway to his bedroom.
Rafe’s motions were automatic, almost mechanical as he undressed. He removed his firearm from the holster and placed it under one of the pillows on the bed before he made his way out of the bedroom to the bathroom across the hall. It took less than fifteen minutes for him to brush his teeth and shower. He reentered the bedroom, got into bed, then reached over to switch off the lamp on the bedside table.
This time when he closed his eyes, it was to sleep.
* * *
Rafe felt warmth seconds before he detected movement on his left. All of his senses kicked into gear as he opened his eyes, rolled over, reaching for the Glock at the same time.
With wide eyes, he looked at Simone staring back at him, her shocked gaze fixed below his waist. He looked down, groaning inwardly. His flesh had betrayed him. It wasn’t a full erection, but close to it.
Simone didn’t know what had shocked her more—seeing the deadly-looking gun pointed at her or the flesh hanging heavily between Rafe’s muscular thighs. When she’d walked down the hallway to his bedroom, she realized he hadn’t closed his door. He had been in bed, his bare back to the door, so she wasn’t certain whether he was awake or still asleep.
Hoping not to disturb him, she’d crept quietly into the room to tell him that she was going jogging.
Then the unthinkable happened. She hadn’t been more than three feet from the bed when he sprang up, naked, gun in hand and the evidence of his maleness in full view.
“I’m…I’m sorry,” she sputtered, her face burning in embarrassment. Turning on her heels, she raced out of the room with Rafe calling her name.
“Dammit!” Rafe hissed between clenched teeth. Placing the firearm on the bed, he reached for his jeans and slipped into them. Simone had come up on him so quietly that he hadn’t had time to react. He’d been assigned to protect—not frighten—her.
He took off after her, his bare feet muffled in the carpeted runner that extended along the length of the hallway. A quick search of her bedroom revealed nothing. She’d made her bed and the calming, seductive scent of lavender lingered throughout the space.
What Rafe didn’t want to think of was that Simone had left the house without him. It was too late to turn back to get his gun, so he bounded down the stairs two at a time.
“Simone!” The sound of him calling her name echoed throughout the house as he searched each room, his heart pounding painfully against his ribs. Then he found her. She was sitting on a love seat in the enclosed back porch, eyes closed and her breasts rising and falling heavily under a long-sleeved tee.
“Simone?” This time his voice was softer, barely above a whisper. Rafe felt his heart turn over when he saw her tears. They trickled slowly down her face as she cried without making a sound.
Simone heard the deep voice, but was loath to open her eyes for fear of seeing the gun in Rafe’s hand. She’d managed to push the events of the prior day to the dark recesses of her mind when she pretended it hadn’t happened, but all of the horror and fear came rushing back when she saw the deadly weapon pointed at her.
In that instant, it wasn’t a gun, but the bloody knife that had been plunged into her neighbor’s chest, a knife that could’ve possibly been plunged into her to hit a vital organ, rendering instantaneous death. Would she, she mused, have been given time to say a silent farewell to her parents, sister, brother and other family members? Would the bright lights of life have gone out as quickly as someone flipping a switch? Every macabre thought had raced through her mind when she ran away from Rafe and all he represented.
Her eyes fluttered open when she felt the power in the hands easing her gently off the love seat. The brave front she’d affected twenty-four hours before dissipated like a thick fog being blown away by a strong wind.
“It’s all right,” Rafe repeated over and over when Simone buried her face against his bare chest. “I’m not going to let anything or anyone hurt you.”
He didn’t know what it was, but she felt so right being in his arms. She smelled delicious and the soft curves of her feminine body fit into the contours of his body although he was a foot taller.
Simone snuggled closer, feeding off the warmth and strength in the arms around her. It was the second time that she’d found herself in Rafe’s arms and it felt so right, as if she belonged there. She knew if her father had been around, she would’ve crawled up in his lap as she’d done as a little girl in order to feel safe. But Malcolm Whitfield wasn’t here, and Rafe wasn’t her father, yet she felt safe, protected.
And in all the years she’d known Anthony Kendrick he’d never protected her or made an attempt to make her feel safe. She’d always been the tough girl, the tomboy who’d been able to take care of herself. Then came a time when she was tired of taking care of Simone and wanted someone else to assume that responsibility. It was one of the reasons she’d married Anthony.
It’d taken sixteen years for her to come to the realizati
on that she’d selected the wrong man for her life partner. Anthony wasn’t going to and didn’t want to change because he couldn’t. He was who he was.
Lowering his chin, Rafe buried his face in the profusion of curls floating around Simone’s face. He didn’t know why, but he liked seeing her hair falling down around her shoulders and back. Maybe because it made her look like a sultry vixen, reminding him why he’d been born male.
“I’m sorry I frightened you,” he said in a soft, soothing tone. “You have to give me a bit more warning the next time you creep up on me.”
Bracing her hands on his chest, Simone pushed Rafe back until he dropped his arms. Tilting her chin, she stared up into the brilliant violet-blue eyes that reminded her of tanzanite. “I didn’t know if you were asleep. And if you were, then I hadn’t wanted to wake you up.”
A smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “I’m a very light sleeper.”
Her gaze lowered as a flush suffused her cheeks. “I found that out the hard way.” Heat singed her body when she realized she’d used the wrong adjective.
Rafe’s smile widened. Simone Whitfield was blushing, the deepening color a shade that made her appear innocent and demure. But he had to remind himself that she’d been married, and that married women usually weren’t that innocent or naive.
He hadn’t found Simone brash, but she had an in-your-face attitude that probably intimidated a lot of men. And he’d suspected there was something more between Simone and Justin Jamison than just their bowling in the same league. There was no doubt the man wanted more, and she wasn’t biting.
“I’m sorry you had to see me like that, but I always sleep in the nude.”
“I wasn’t talking about your hard-on.” The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it.
It was Rafe’s turn to blush. His face turned a deep red as he averted his gaze. “I’m not going to apologize for having, as you say, a hard-on, because I’d rather wake up with one than not.”
“I’m not talking about your state of arousal or lack there of.”
“Just what are you talking about?”
“You pointing a gun in my face. Yesterday it was a knife, and today it’s a gun. You’re supposed to protect me, Rafe, not scare the hell out of me!”
Taken by Storm Page 6
