2000 Kisses

by Christina Skye

  Her heart pounded. He was quiet suddenly, staring at the skimpy bit of fabric she wore. Then his fingers jerked downward, stripping away the last barrier.

  Her breath came in a harsh rush only seconds before Tess felt his mouth.

  “You can’t—”

  “I warned you,” he growled. “You pushed until you got answers. Yes, dammit, I’ve wanted you and it won’t be nice or tidy or convenient now.”

  Dimly, dimly, she heard his warning, but the meaning was lost, drowned out by the slam of her heart and the exquisite shock of his hands moving in places no man had ever touched so intimately before.

  “God, you’re soft.” He eased lower, teasing her to some trembling edge she’d never approached before. “I’m going to have you, Tess,” he whispered. “Now.”

  She stared at him through a haze of desire, unable to speak as his rough hands moved, feathering down into the nest of curls at her thighs. “Do you understand?”

  His chest was an anchor, his hands a lifeline. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. “Yes,” she whispered.

  It was the only answer. She didn’t stop to worry about what would happen later. She wouldn’t let herself wonder what kind of future a hardscrabble, tight-mouthed cowboy from Arizona could find with a high-tempo, micromanaging worrier from Boston.…

  Because there was no future.

  No future at all.

  It didn’t matter. Now was all the world that counted—this raging, edgy now of trembling muscles and driving nerves.

  “Look at me, Duchess.”

  She looked. Savored. Wanted. He was as wild as the summer wind, as hard as the brushed sandstone walls of the high desert canyons. He was a man that no woman could turn away from.

  And by some impossible trick of fate, he was touching her, wanting her.

  Tess drew a ragged breath, suddenly needing to question, to analyze. He didn’t give her time. His fingers flexed. Dewy skin parted and sheathed his intimate caress.

  Tess almost buckled at the shock of that deep stroke. Why hadn’t she realized? Why had no one told her that skin could sear, that a heart could sing?

  “Show me what you want, Duchess.”

  All of it.

  Everywhere.

  Now.

  His mouth closed over her breast. She whimpered as he nipped her skin with his teeth. “Like that?” he said hoarsely.

  Just like that.

  Againagainagain. Now.

  The words were silent, speech beyond her capability as his fingers stripped away the last reasoning part of her brain. She wanted control and safety, but he didn’t give it to her. This was all racing energy, all vicious pleasure.

  And she wanted nothing less.

  She ground out his name, her mouth pressed to his hot, salty skin as her body strained against his. “Please—”

  “Easy, love.”

  Madness gripped her, left her shaking.

  Then he moved, and a wave of need was inside her, rising, racing. It was close, so close, and she didn’t have a clue what to do.

  His fingers were relentless, spearing her, enflaming her. Skin to her skin, he was so much a part of her, so deep in the wave that all Tess could do was cry out blindly as she climbed, shattered.

  Too fast.

  Too dangerous.

  Even before her blood stopped burning, it came again, nerves jangling, muscles shuddering. Dimly, she heard someone scream. But not her. Impossible for such a thing to happen in her ordered, reasonable world.

  Her fingers tightened. The scream came again, torn from her own raw throat as she swayed and almost fell beneath the shocking pleasure.

  Her knees collapsed. With a curse, T.J. warpped his hands around her and carried her to the bed. She lay beyond words, stunned by the pleasure he’d given her.

  She started to speak, to tell him all he’d made her feel.

  But Tess saw his face, lined and set. He was regretting what he’d done, angry at her for goading him. She turned her head, averting her gaze from his regret.…

  And then she saw what lay on the table beside the bed.

  Gun.

  Holster.

  Handcuffs.

  Her whole body froze.

  Dear God, what was she doing? Who was this hard-eyed stranger she’d allowed to invade her body and probe all her secrets?

  “I—I have to go.”

  She tried to sit up, only to be sent rolling back onto the bed.

  “Not until this is finished between us.” His eyes were bottomless and hard. His hand slid to his belt and whipped it free.

  “No.” Tess pushed to one elbow, torn and uncertain, devastated by how deeply he’d laid all her defenses bare. Part of her mind knew that he’d warned her in unequivocal terms.

  It made no difference. She couldn’t stay, couldn’t bear to want so much. No woman like her could ever hold a man like this.

  “Stop.”

  He pinned her arms with relentless fingers. “Not yet, Duchess.”

  Through the open windows came the hiss of distant thunder, followed by the slam of a car door and sharp footsteps. Grady’s voice echoed from the courtyard.

  T.J. cursed long and well. “It’s not over. Not nearly.”

  He tossed a blanket over her, then pinned her back with a savage slide of lips and tongue and teeth that lanced right into her heart.

  And then he tore away from her and strode from the room, leaving her with nothing but a shattering memory and cold answers.…

  Devastating answers that she didn’t want to hear.

  It took T.J. three agonizing minutes to scan the fax that Grady had brought for his signature. Two minutes more to learn that his Blazer and Mae’s truck were both back in town with new tires installed. Meanwhile, Tom Stoner’s foreman had brought in a coyote carcass for analysis and there had been a report made about a health hazard at the survivalist camp in the foothills.

  T.J. forced his mind to concentrate on business, issued terse orders, then strode back inside the house. Still stunned by what had just happened between him and Tess, he halted outside his door, paced the hall, then pushed the door open and walked inside.

  Her head was turned away from him.

  “We can’t stay like this, with questions left hanging.” He forced himself to say the words that had to be said. “We have to get some things straight.”

  The pillow stirred.

  “Are you listening?”

  He heard her low, breathy murmur.

  Agreement? Invitation?

  Hell if he knew.

  But they were going to talk whether she liked it or not.

  “Look at me, Tess. We’ve got to talk.” T.J. stared down at her grimly.

  And cursed.

  The impossible woman was curled up on the bed, hands gripping the pillow.

  Sound asleep.

  For an hour McCall paced the courtyard, berating himself.

  How had he let things get so out of control? Tess was supposed to be under his protection. So far his batting record was dirt poor.

  He heard his cell phone ringing. “This is McCall,” he said impatiently.

  “I’ve got bad news,” Andrew O’Mara said.

  T.J. sat on the porch glider and leaned back, watching a dust devil whip across the valley, spinning a funnel of dirt and debris. Tess was sleeping for the moment, but T.J. was close enough to hear her if she called. “Let’s have it.”

  “First I want to talk to Tess.”

  T.J.’s jaw tensed. “Not available.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s resting.”

  “Rest? My sister?” Andrew snorted. “What kind of miracle did you work to make her do a thing like that?”

  “I gave her some pain medicine.” T.J. closed his eyes, trying not to remember the wrenching fear he’d felt when he’d seen her on the cliff. He was still reeling at how easy it would have been for her to break her neck in the fall down the slip rock. “She fell near some old ruins. No broken bones, but s
he’s going to be black and blue for a week.”

  Silence stretched out, then tightened. “Don’t tell me this has some connection with Boston.” Andrew’s voice was harsh.

  “My instinct tells me no, but I can’t be sure. Our tires were slashed at the scene and I found a spent rifle shell in the dirt. I’m running a check with forensics to see when it was fired.”

  “I hope Tess isn’t stepping into the middle of an old-fashioned range war down there.”

  “Whatever it is, I’ll handle it,” T.J. said firmly.

  “I’m convinced of that. Otherwise I’d pull her out of there today.”

  “So what’s your bad news?”

  “Someone’s broken into Tess’s apartment. They were damned sharp, so we didn’t find out until we tracked a bogus floral delivery to the building. There was no information in the apartment about her whereabouts, but this means they are definitely on to her. I thought you should know.”

  “What about you? Have you traced the source of that money?”

  T.J. heard papers rustling. “There are fifteen branches to investigate, and that deposit could have been routed through any one of them. The bank’s internal records have probably been altered, but I’m going to have to prove it. That means sifting through thousands of deposit records, both written and electronic. Meanwhile, we’re going on the assumption that these people have someone with excellent electronic skills.”

  T.J. made the connection instantly. “That means they could have access to all her credit records and credit cards.”

  “Bingo. I’m sending her a new card by express delivery. It’s registered under my name, so no one can trace her through it. Meanwhile, be sure that she doesn’t use any of her own cards.”

  “Not a problem. There’s not a whole lot to buy here anyway.” McCall watched the dust devil whip over the valley. He could imagine the churning gravel, the blinding cloud of dirt and twigs. “One more thing.”

  “Give me a break. Tell me you don’t have more bad news.”

  T.J.’s fingers tightened on the phone. “That’s for you to decide. About Tess—things between us might be turning personal.” T.J. didn’t say more. He didn’t have to.

  Andrew let out a slow breath. “How personal?”

  “If you mean have I taken her to bed, the answer is no.” T.J. stood up slowly and braced one shoulder against the bleached wood beam on the porch. “That doesn’t mean I won’t. If it happens, it will be because we both want it, Andrew.”

  “Shit.”

  “That sums it all up nicely.”

  “Just take care of her.” Andrew cleared his throat. “Tess doesn’t have a whole lot of experience with men. She’s always been too busy working.”

  The knowledge of Tess’s limited experience didn’t come as a complete shock to McCall, but he was surprised how it punched through him immediately, unleashing a wave of protectiveness.

  “I’ll take good care of her; you can count on it. Now, why don’t you get off the phone and get me some answers. A big, tough T-man like you ought to be able to pull a few strings around the Beltway.”

  “If I pull any more strings, I’m going to be thrown out of Washington. And in this administration, that’s saying something,” Andrew O’Mara said dryly. “Give my love to Tess.”

  “It will be a pleasure.”

  “And, T.J.?”

  “What?”

  “Tess could do a lot worse than you. I don’t think I’m too unhappy about this.”

  “Now, that’s a comfort,” T.J. muttered.

  Andrew O’Mara chuckled dryly as he rang off.

  The dust devil was halfway up the mountain now, its restless winds cast onto solid walls of rock. Thin plumes of dust furled up like smoke and scattered in the air.

  T.J. was thinking about dead coyotes and stolen money when he heard a light step behind him. He whirled around, frowning at the sight of Tess standing white-faced in the doorway. Her hands were crossed over a lacy, silky garment that stopped midthigh. For a robe, it left little to the imagination.

  “Dammit, woman, you should be in bed.”

  Her eyes were shadowed and uncertain. “I was in bed, but I was restless. Couldn’t sleep—” Her hands twisted sharply. “Who am I kidding?”

  “What is it?”

  She drew a shaky breath. “You wanted the truth, and here it is. I’m frightened, T.J. I keep thinking, and every thought is a bad one.” Her voice fell. “Would you—could you hold me? Just for a few minutes?”

  17

  She was wearing a skimpy piece of silk.

  Searching green eyes. Tousled red hair with streaks of gold and a proud, generous mouth.

  And plain black glasses.

  The combination short-circuited something inside him. All McCall could think about was inventive ways to take off those glasses.

  Then he thought of reckless, uncivilized ways to take off everything but those glasses.

  He cleared his throat. “We can both fit here.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  There were faint lines under her eyes. A bruise darkened her right wrist. Every instinct screamed for T.J. to sweep her close and use the heat of their linked bodies to drive away the fear in her face.

  But he didn’t move. She was probably still in pain and definitely under the influence of Doc Felton’s pills. He wasn’t about to take advantage of either circumstance.

  He had pushed her earlier, and now he regretted it keenly. This time T.J. was determined to be sane and reasonable.

  “It’s fine. Come and have a seat.”

  It pained him to see that she was awkward and uneasy as she sank down beside him on the glider.

  Briefly, T.J. considered telling her about his conversation with Andrew. She was entitled to the facts, but not just then. Fair or not, he couldn’t bring himself to cause more shadows under her eyes. Andrew’s news would have to wait.

  Her hands twisted again. “You really don’t mind?”

  He answered by wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. “There’s no place better for watching the stars come out. It’s also a perfect spot to talk.”

  “Wait. Just wait. There’s something I need to say.” Her hands twisted again. “What just happened—well, it was wrong of me to push you.” She raised a hand as T.J. started to speak. “No, let me finish. Andrew shouldn’t have sent me here. You can protest all you want, but my presence here endangers you and everyone else in Almost.” Her gaze met his. “What if someone is hurt? How could I live with that?”

  T.J. didn’t insult her intelligence by laughing off the question. Her concerns were real, and the danger could affect others. “We’ll do everything possible to avoid that. But if it happens, we’ll handle it.”

  She stiffened slightly. “That’s all? You pick up your life and go on as if nothing had happened?”

  “Your apologies are duly noted and recorded. And no, I won’t ignore anything. Neither will you. But I’m the one who’s paid to worry about the risks and how to control them.”

  Something flared in her eyes. “Paid? My brother’s paying you to protect me?”

  “Andrew’s not paying me a penny, Tess. I meant that it’s my job as a law-enforcement officer to assess threats and provide security.”

  She latched on to the subject with fervent determination. “If Andrew’s not paying you, then I will. I know how busy you are and I want to make some reasonable compensation.” She frowned at him behind the black glasses. “Is one hundred dollars per day enough? No, I suppose not. A professional like you can probably get five times that much in the private sector.” She gnawed at her lip. “Well then, let’s make it three hundred dollars per day. I’d go higher but I can’t touch my bank account for reasons that you already understand. Money might be a little tight for me until I—”

  Fury boiled over at her offer. Pay him? She wanted to pay him, as if he were an employee?

  He threaded his fingers through her hair and anchored her head, locki
ng his mouth in a way that was almost as rough as the curse that exploded from his throat. He didn’t give her time to move, protest, or question as he nipped her mouth, savored thoroughly.

  As anger flared hotter, he let her feel his tongue, let her feel the need fisted at his gut. Then he prowled, tormented, stroked—to please himself. He hadn’t meant to feel anything, but he was doing it again. Dimly he sensed that this time he would have no strength to walk away.

  Gone was the subtlety and the wooing. He took and took again, bending her back in his arms while he devoured the wet satin of her mouth. She tasted like mocha cappuccino and one of the raspberries he’d left on the kitchen counter. The combination hit him like a kidney punch.

  When her pulse was slamming and her breath came jerkily, he pulled free. Locked his hands on her hair. Scowled at her. “No money.”

  Even behind the glasses, he saw her eyes were dazed. Her lips were reddened from his kiss. T.J. wanted to kiss them for a few lifetimes more.

  “You don’t want money? But I owe you for—”

  His fingers tightened, just at the edge of ruthless. “I said no money.” T.J. didn’t like the vicious kick at his chest, the hammer of his pulse, and he hated the way his control was unraveling. “Andrew asked, and I agreed. That makes this a favor, something personal.” His jaw clenched. “Very personal, Tess. So don’t mention money again, or I just might get nasty.”

  “Fine.” She stared, just stared, color streaking her cheeks. Then she touched the tip of her tongue to her lip.

  Just once.

  T.J. felt the effect slash all the way to his knees.

  To his credit, he didn’t move as she traced his jaw with her finger or even when she rested both palms flat against his chest. “I might be able to compensate you some other way, Sheriff.”

  T.J. lost the ability to think for a moment as anger climbed to new heights. “Compensate?” he asked carefully, keeping a leash on the shreds of his control.

  Her tongue moved again, this time dipping over her full lower lip. Her fingers skimmed across his chest. “For your protection efforts.”

  With a snarl, he gripped her wrists. “This isn’t about compensation, dammit. It has nothing to do with official business.”