by Dawson, Zoe
He whistled for Quinn to take him out for a walk. It would also loosen up his muscles. But Quinn didn’t appear. Caleb pushed off the edge of the bed, bracing for the pain from his hip. Huh. It wasn’t bad. He limped a little as he walked out into the living room, but no Quinn.
Where the hell was his dog?!
In fifteen minutes he was banging on Harper’s door. When the pretty, dark-haired housekeeper opened it, her eyes went a little wide. He tried to control his anxiety. “Harper?”
“She’s at the pool, sir.”
“What pool?”
“The pool,” she said more slowly, as if he was a moron and couldn’t understand her.
“Where? What’s the address?”
She looked at him, shaking her head. “¿Qué?”
“Where is the pool located?”
“Oh, sí, downstairs.”
“Oh, inside. Here.” Of course, she had a pool in her penthouse. Now he did feel like an idiot. “Take me there.”
Who the hell was he fooling here? He was too blue collar for it to even occur to him that she would have an indoor pool. It brought home just how far out in left field he was. Her dating pool was Park Avenue in Manhattan and his was a pool hall in the Bronx. This wouldn’t work. And after what she’d done for him last night, he was well aware that Harper was more than a one-night-stand kind of woman. She was silk and satin, champagne and caviar.
He was much too rough around the edges.
The housekeeper stepped aside to let him in, but before she could direct him to the pool, Harper walked into the living room and Caleb felt his lungs seize up.
Her hair was wet and slicked back off her face, and she was wearing a bikini. His knees actually went weak, but that wasn’t something a street-tough, irascible cop was going to ever admit. Even to himself.
“Juliana, have you seen Blue’s ball? It’s got this jingle bell in it.” She bent over the couch and revealed most of what that skimpy top attempted and failed to cover up. Creamy, full breasts with a tiny piece of black covering the glorious curves he ached to touch, lick, take into his mouth and suck on until she cried out his name.
He felt gut-punched.
“Miss…”
Harper bent down to look under the couch and disappeared from his view. “There you are,” she said in triumph, her voice muffled and Caleb heard a musical tinkling.
“Harper? Where the fuck is my dog?” Angry all of a sudden, he just wanted to get Quinn and get the hell outta here before he did something stupid.
Harper’s head popped up over the back of the couch, and when she saw Caleb, she rose swiftly and came around the edge of the furniture.
“Caleb! He’s downstairs in the pool. He loves the water.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. It would have been nice if you’d let me know you had him.”
“I left you a note on the fridge.”
“You did? I didn’t see it.”
“I also fed him last night. I tried to ask you if you’d done it, but you were completely out of it.”
“No, I hadn’t, so thank you for taking care of him.” He didn’t want to feel anything. He didn’t want to think that it had been decent of her to think about his dog’s welfare. Quinn would have gone hungry last night if she hadn’t stepped in and taken care of him.
Dammit, he didn’t want to feel soft towards her and have to grudgingly admit that Harper wasn’t exactly the aloof, cool princess he had pegged her as when he first met her. His experience with that spoiled little rich girl in the Hamptons was suddenly irrelevant. He should have known it was about the character of the person and not the size of their bank account that mattered. He’d done her a disservice in lumping her together with all wealthy people.
“He’s already been walked, once last night, and once this morning. He is extremely well behaved.”
“He is a former police dog.”
“True. How are you feeling?”
After glancing at him as if he was a dangerous animal, Juliana left and disappeared down the hall.
“Pretty good.”
She took a deep breath and smiled. “I’m so glad. That wild yam did the trick.”
“Wild yam?”
“Yes, I rubbed a generous amount into your bruises last night.”
The thought of her touching him like that while he was out cold had two very distinct effects on him. First he got hard, second he got pissed. He’d missed out on her touching him…fuck.
“Harper.” When she started to turn away, he snagged her wrist and she froze. She turned back to him slowly, and their gazes met. He got lost in all that vitality and something primal passed between them, something just a bit desperate. And he could see her feel it and respond to it. He definitely felt it. She trembled and he took a step towards her. Her pupils instantly shot wide and her lips parted. His body responded to her nearness. Only a day ago, he would have said point blank that no woman could affect him this way. But apparently the princess had the power to affect him in ways he was sure he was only beginning to imagine.
Something inside him, maybe his sense of self-preservation, kicked him hard in the head. Reality had a way of dampening everything. Holding out on her seemed the smartest action he could do. Everything in him protested. Everything went taut and mean at that thought.
She searched his face, her eyes a hot, liquid blue. She bit her lip and that gesture shot straight to his groin.
“Thank you for what you did last night. I’m not used to that, but next time you send a massage therapist to ‘work me over’ could you give me some warning so I don’t haul off…”
“And break his face.”
“Yeah, that.”
“Got it. Warnings.”
He released her wrist and she looked disappointed. “Lead the way,” he said.
She walked away and he enjoyed the view for a few minutes, swearing under his breath as he followed her to a spiral metal staircase that took them down one floor to an indoor pool with two crazy, splashing dogs.
As soon as the poodle saw him, she swam to the edge and pulled herself out. He was mostly distracted by Harper’s provocative bikini bottom wiggle. She sprinted past Harper and all sixty pounds of waterlogged poodle blindsided him and knocked him flat then she landed on his chest. As he hit the pool deck, his shoulder protested and his sore hip exploded with agony. He gasped around the pain, groaning as the amorous poodle licked his face very enthusiastically.
“Blue!” Harper’s shocked voice practically shrieked the dog’s name. The poodle cringed and backed off him before crouching down and trembling.
Harper ran over and knelt down. “Oh, my God, Caleb. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s never acted that way before.”
He was sure she’d never shouted at her dog that way, ever.
Her hands were all over him. “I’m so, so sorry.”
He chuckled and turned his head to look at Blue. Her soft brown eyes were looking at him with such longing and affection, he couldn’t stand it.
While he watched, she scooted forward a few inches, her pink tongue trying to reach his hand. She whimpered and he couldn’t take it.
“Blue…”
“It’s all right,” Caleb said. “She’s just happy to see me. No harm done.”
She helped him to sit up and he reached out and swiped his hand over Blue’s head. That was all it took and the wet animal, her whole body wagging, sidled up to him, soaking his shirt and jeans.
“Okay, that’s a pretty girl.”
“Caleb, she’s getting you all wet.”
“It’s all right. A little water never hurt anyone.”
Harper got up and went to the intercom and said, “Juliana, could you come down here.”
When the housekeeper showed up, Harper said, “Please wipe down the dogs, while I—” she broke off as she helped him up “—wipe down Detective Shaw.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He followed her shapely butt back up the stairs, his hip pro
testing, and, damn, if he wasn’t limping again.
“I think my brother Aiden left some clothes here when he stayed with me after returning from Afghanistan.”
What? Her brother had been in the service? Dammit, every time he turned around she was challenging his view of her. Now her family was making him form a respect that he didn’t want to feel. All of a sudden he wanted to turn around and get the hell out while he still could. This had disaster and complications written all over it. He didn’t want to get in deep with a woman he wasn’t sure he could ever trust. One with resources that far surpassed his, one who could have anyone she set her sights on. What the hell did she want with a broken-down cop, anyway?
He’d never thought he was all that concerned with power. It wasn’t something that he went into a relationship worrying about, but in this situation with Harper he felt unbalanced on one hand, and powerless on the other. It occurred to him that even if he was on her same economic level, he might still feel just as powerless as he felt now. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with her money. Maybe it was all about her.
His heart was most definitely off limits here.
He was starting to think that the only way to stay safe was to run like hell. His footsteps slowed.
“Your brother serves?”
She turned to look at him. “He was discharged last year. Why does that surprise you? My brother is dedicated to his country, same as the next guy.”
“But your brother isn’t the next guy, is he?” He kept trying to keep his perceptions of her intact. Then it would be easy to walk away.
“We’re not that different from other people, Caleb.”
He laughed, but it wasn’t in amusement. It was in derision. “Yes, you are, and you know it. You’re entitled and I’m surprised that some spoiled rich boy served his country.”
Her eyes narrowed. She studied his face. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me because you’re attracted to me and you think this is a monumental mistake? Or are you just being an asshole?”
“Don’t like my opinion? Get me the damn T-shirt and I’ll be on my way with my dog.”
Her eyes darkening with anger, she turned around and stalked through the next doorway. When he entered she was rummaging around in a dresser drawer and pulled out a T-shirt. She threw the cotton at him and folded her arms over her chest.
Catching it, he started to pull off his own soggy tee, but his shoulder chose that moment to send the message to his brain that, No freakin’ way, tough guy. You’ve screwed around long enough, and now you’re gonna pay.
He grunted in pain as he tried to lift the soggy tee over his head and the one he was holding fell as a sharp pain radiated out from his wound.
Harper unfolded her arms, her eyes losing their stormy blue quality, and she took a step forward, biting her bottom lip in remorse. He saw that guilt and concern written all over her face again and his heart softened. Lurched and rolled over. But he couldn’t have her touching him.
“No!” he ordered and she stopped moving.
He closed his eyes, puffing in pain, clutching at his shoulder, slightly bent over from the agony, trying to breathe around it, get his composure back. The memory of that alley came back to him all of a sudden, the determination on the thief’s face to escape. That would have been his third strike and no way was he going back to jail. The way everything slowed down and elongated like a bad nightmare. The guy reaching for something beneath his open button-down shirt, the gun coming up and pointing at him. The sheer sense of helplessness and fear that gripped him, his training kicking in just a tad too slowly. The guy’s gun had discharged and the impact of the bullet had knocked him back onto the dirty, wet pavement, and he’d only been peripherally aware of frantic breathing, a soft “Oh, shit,” then the guy had hightailed it out of there, his sneakers beating a terrified tattoo as he ran away.
Caleb could only think how lucky he’d been that the guy hadn’t been a hardened criminal and had been a terrible shot. That was the first Caleb had ever thought about dying. It had been hovering at the back of his mind ever since.
He gritted his teeth and tried again, but the pain slapped him back down.
And she was there, easing him down to the foot of the bed. “I’m so sorry I ever thought it was a good idea to go down to that bar. But I wanted to show you that I wasn’t a dainty, hothouse flower, that I could be normal. That I could have fit in.”
“Harper. You would have never fit in down there. Never.”
“Maybe you should go to a doctor? I could get mine to come here right now.” She offered.
He laughed. “You would have a doctor who makes house calls.”
“Stop mocking me, you jerk.”
She had fire in her voice, but her hands were gentle, and it felt good to have someone care so much about his welfare.
“Let me.”
“No.”
“Stop being stubborn.” She knelt between his legs and retrieved the T-shirt he’d dropped. He gazed down at her and saw that she looked…distraught over him. It was sobering…and quite a turn-on. It was guilt he told himself firmly. She was just feeling sorry for him. There wasn’t any other real emotion involved.
Without asking, she grasped the T-shirt he was wearing and pulled the material away from his skin and over his head. She got up and went into the bathroom, returning with a hand towel and a tube of ointment.
After closing the spare bedroom’s door, she was back between his legs, folding down onto her knees. Drying him off, she took great care around the bruises on his shoulder, arm and ribcage. When she set the towel down, she unscrewed the top of the ointment and squeezed some onto her palm. When her slippery hands touched him, he had to bite back a groan. His throbbing flesh felt soothed as she pressed gently to apply the ointment. He closed his eyes to better experience the warmth of her touch, getting lost in the sensation.
When she withdrew her hands, he opened his eyes. She was staring at the scar where the bullet had marked him for life.
Her eyes flashed to his, her eyes softening even more, and his heart hitched. She reached out and he was powerless. In his mind, he grabbed her hand and told her to back off, but in reality, he did nothing to stop her.
With a small huff of breath, she touched the scar. “So close to your heart…” Harper was losing her perspective here. Losing herself in this man. Unprecedented. She’d always managed to keep her distance, maintain control of her heart, but here, now, it was slipping out of her grasp.
Her fingers tingled, shooting fire up into her hand, dumping sparkles into her bloodstream and sending the male energy of him through her like wildfire.
“Thief I was chasing. I got sloppy and he…got the drop on me.”
On her knees, she was level with him. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth against the scar. Protective instincts welled up in her, and her heart squeezed at the thought of him facing down a man with a gun. “Bastard. Did you catch him?” she murmured against his skin.
He closed his eyes and clenched his hands into fists. Was he trying not to touch her? React to her? That turned her on, the challenge of making him lose his resolve. And she had every reason to believe it was formidable.
“Yes, he was arrested for both the crimes and for shooting a cop. He won’t be getting out of prison anytime soon.”
Her mouth slid across his collarbone.
“Fuuuuck,” he muttered under his breath, and a pulse of pleasure stabbed into her lower abdomen before settling into her groin. Right there. That’s what set him apart from the men she’d dated in the past. None of them would say that word out loud. She liked his rawness.
“Good.” She flicked a glance to his face.
He smiled. It was beautiful and genuine. His eyes crinkled at the corners and lit up with a teasing amusement. Her heart turned over and she felt a bit breathless.
“What’s so funny?”
“You have a really bloodthirsty look on your face.”
She smiled in response
to his accurate description of how she felt.
“I’d say it was a good thing for him he’s still behind bars. You look like you’re gonna give him a princess beat-down.”
Everything in her softened. Everything. It was an odd feeling, because she never really considered herself a soft woman when it came to men. She had always relied on her armor staying firmly in place, but he was pushing boundaries she didn’t know she had. She pressed against his mouth with her thumb. He shifted, his breath hitching. “I want to.”
He mock growled. “I don’t need a girl to fight my battles.”
Drawn to him with an irresistible force, she studied his mouth for a moment, like it was a history lesson, before dipping hers down again, back to his collarbone, and the taste of him only made her want so much more. His soft groan sounded so delicious.
“No, because you’re badass enough to do that on your own.” Her breathing picked up a bit. “The look you used in the bar to make those guys back off, well that was…um…scary.”
She remembered what he’d looked like when he’d snatched that pool cue out of her hand. There was no room for disagreement. Harper realized only after she’d gotten home that he’d been afraid for her safety. That was the reason he’d been so hard-core then.
And his kiss. She had heated memories of his soft lips that she’d replayed over and over again. Now that she had him here under her power, a thrill went through her just thinking about his clever mouth.
Her whole body going liquid, she kissed her way up to the hollow of his throat, her hands running up and down either side of his ribcage, gentle over his bruise. She felt guilt curl in the pit of her stomach again. Damn, the bruises he’d suffered to keep her from being hurt. It softened her even more. He slipped his hand around the back of her neck and she made a soft sound against his skin.
She bit his neck and his head dropped back as he groaned softly. Leaning closer, she kissed him, rubbing her lips over the spot she’d abused. He tasted like a strong aphrodisiac. Deliciously male. Running her cheek up his throat, then rubbing her face against his bearded jaw, she peeked up at him, saw that his eyes were much darker now as his pupils expanded.
