by Jane Graves
Renee’s eyes sprang open. She pulled away, pressing her elbows down to still his hand beneath her sweatshirt.
“What are you doing?” she said in a gasp.
“Trying to get us naked, but I don’t seem to be getting a lot of cooperation.”
He leaned in to kiss her again, but she turned away, not the least bit ready to let Victoria’s Secret out of the bag. “No,” she whispered. “I can’t—”
“I’ve got protection, sweetheart, if that’s what you’re—”
“I said no!”
For several seconds he didn’t move. Then his deep, dark eyes that had been hot with desire became hard and probing, his passion melting away like an ice cube on a hot summer day.
Very deliberately, he removed his hand from beneath her sweatshirt and yanked the hem down. Then he gripped her by her arms and sat her upright on the sofa beside him, staring at her with a gaze so sharp it could penetrate steel.
“What are you up to?”
Renee opened her mouth, hoping some brilliant explanation would leap off her tongue. But her luck had totally run out. She clamped her mouth shut again.
“You didn’t have a car at the diner. You’ve got no purse, no coat. Why not?”
Renee remained silent.
“You come on to me like some kind of cheap hooker, then get all uptight when I so much as touch you. You want to explain that one to me?”
He sounded like every cop who’d ever interrogated her, and her heart beat madly. But still she didn’t respond.
“I knew this was a mistake.” John took a deep breath and let it out slowly, rubbing his hand against his mouth. He got up from the sofa, his stiff gait telling her that the switch from fire to ice had left him a little incapacitated. “Come on. I’m taking you home.”
“No!”
She said the word loudly, too loudly, and he looked at her with surprise.
“What do you mean, no?”
Renee just stared at him. She wanted to stay, had to stay, but she did not want to have sex. How was she going to convince him to let her have one without the other?
When she didn’t respond, he grabbed his coat and headed for the door.
“Wait!”
He spun back around, frustration running wild on his face. “Look. You clearly don’t want to do what you came here to do, so it’s time I took you home.”
“If you’ll just calm down—”
“You want me to calm down? Then tell me why you’ve been jerking me around since the minute you walked into that diner. Tell me that, and I’ll be the most congenial guy you’ve ever met!”
She needed a really good lie, but one just wasn’t coming to her. “I-I can’t.”
“You can’t? What do you mean, you can’t?”
What did she mean? “I mean I can’t...imagine why you’re so angry.”
John’s eyebrows shot up. “Then you haven’t got much of an imagination!”
She squeezed her eyes closed, hoping the alley she was heading down wasn’t a dead end. “I just wanted to have a nice, leisurely evening. Talk a little. Relax a little. Get to know each other before we...” She sighed wistfully. “But it’s clear now that no matter how I feel about it, all you want is sex.”
John’s mouth fell open. “Would you explain to me how I got to be the bad guy in this situation? You came on to me like a nymphomaniac, harassing me until I took you up on your offer, and now that I expect you to actually follow through, suddenly I’m a sex-crazed maniac?”
“No. Of course not. That’s not what I meant at all. It’s just that...well, I suppose I can see now how you might have gotten the wrong impression—”
“Wrong impression?”
The incredulity in his voice said he wasn’t buying, and Renee’s nervousness intensified. “Yes. I prefer a more subtle approach to lovemaking—”
John’s eyebrows shot up again. “Subtle? You call what you did in that diner subtle?”
“That was just to get your attention. Sort of like...well, like a peacock spreading her feathers.”
Oh, God. How dumb did that sound? Renee cringed at her own words, but nothing else had come to her. If she kept talking long enough, saying anything, then maybe he’d calm down, and—
“Peacocks spread their feathers,” John said. “Peahens stand back and watch. They don’t back a peacock up against a lunch counter and promise him a one-way trip to heaven!”
“I was speaking metaphorically—”
“Now, listen up, sweetheart, and I mean listen good. There was nothing metaphorical about your hand on my crotch, so I don’t want to hear another word about the mating habits of wildlife. You were pretty clear about what you wanted in that diner, and I’m not a fan of false advertising. We’re going to get naked right now, or you’re going to give me a damned good reason why not. Otherwise, you’re out of here.” He jabbed at his watch. “You’ve got ten seconds. Now make up your mind.”
So there it was. Get naked, get truthful, or get out.
Maybe it was the challenging look on his face. Maybe it was the demanding tone of his voice. Or maybe it was just that she was sick and tired of rotten things happening to her when she hadn’t done anything to deserve them. Whatever the reason, as she sat on that sofa, staring up at a man who’d issued her the most detestable ultimatum she’d ever heard, something inside her snapped.
She stood up slowly, narrowing her eyes like a backstreet gangster who’d just gotten the upper hand. She planted her fists against her hips and glowered at him. “I can see now why you’re not married. There aren’t many women who’d put up with such a mean, shallow, arrogant, dictatorial jerk!”
She slapped a palm against his chest and gave him a shove. As he stumbled backward, she started for the door, so crazed with anger that she’d have stood up to a grizzly bear before she stayed another minute with this man. But before she had the chance to commune with the creatures of the forest, he grabbed her by the wrist, spun her around, and dragged her back across the room. He put both hands on her shoulders and shoved her down on the sofa. She tried to rise, and he shoved her down again. He sat down beside her and clamped his hand around her upper arm, his gaze boring into her. She set her jaw and scowled right back at him.
“The way I figure it,” he said, “you’re nothing more than a snotty little tease who gets her kicks from jerking guys around. But I suppose there’s a possibility that you just don’t have the sense not to mess with strange men who might not be as forgiving as I am. Now, which is it?”
She lifted her nose a notch, refusing to let him see her sweat. “Well, let’s see. The ‘strange’ part. That’s accurate.”
She tugged her arm from his grasp and stood up, but just as quickly he grabbed her and yanked her back down again. She glared at him. “Oh, so you like it rough, huh? Why didn’t you say so?”
She regretted the words the instant they left her lips. He tightened his grip on her arm, an expression of barely restrained fury flooding his face.
“I’ve never hurt a woman in my life, and I’m not about to start now, even though in your case I’m sure I’d enjoy every minute of it.” He leaned closer still, dropping his voice to a gravelly whisper. “And just for the record, I don’t like it rough at all. I like it soft, I like it slow, and I like it hot. And above all, I like a woman who knows what she wants. If I ever decide you fit that description, your screams are the ones they’ll be hearing in Bangkok.”
She swallowed hard, never doubting for a moment that he meant what he said.
“Now, why don’t you put the bullshit on hold for about five minutes and tell me why you’re really here?”
Renee opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She couldn’t think of a thing to say that wouldn’t get her into even more hot water than she was already in. She figured this was it. This was the moment he was going to hack her up and bury her under the front porch, not because he was some kind of a bizarre serial killer, but just because he’d had enough.
“It w
as a mistake,” she said. “Let’s just forget about it, okay?” She started to rise, hoping her semi-admission of guilt would be enough to satisfy him. He jerked her back down again.
And that was when it came to her. The perfect little lie that had been eluding her suddenly filled her mind with the simple grandeur reserved for only the most brilliant of falsehoods. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?
She rubbed her arm where he’d grasped it so tightly, then bowed her head and dropped her voice to a near-whisper.
“It was because of my boyfriend, okay?”
He looked at her skeptically. “Your boyfriend?”
“He’s the reason I had to get away.”
“Get away from what?”
“From him.” She sighed, staring down at her hands. “We were out driving, and we got into this terrible argument. He was so angry. Even more than usual. He stopped at the train crossing by the diner when the gates came down, and I jumped out of the car. He came after me.” She blinked quickly, as if chasing away tears. “He grabbed me and I fell.” Physical evidence, she thought suddenly, and pulled up a leg of her jeans, displaying an angry red wound on her knee surrounded by black-and-blue flesh that looked even worse than she’d imagined it would. And when he stared down at her injury and his eyes narrowed with concern, she knew the tables had turned and she was back on top again. Metaphorically speaking.
Infused with hope, Renee kept on spinning. “I managed to get away from him. I crossed the tracks just before the train got there, but he didn’t make it across. The train was moving real slow, so it blocked him until I made it to the diner.”
John slumped back on the sofa and expelled a long, weary breath, putting his hand to his forehead and squeezing his eyes closed as if he had a whopper of a headache.
He’s buying it. Every last word.
“So then you came on to me? What was that all about?”
She shrugged weakly. “I just thought it would be the quickest way to get you to take me away from there before he got to me again.”
John looked at her with total disbelief. “Do you know how stupid that was? What if you’d come on to the wrong kind of guy in that diner, and then refused to do what you promised? Do you have any idea what could have happened?”
Renee felt a flush of relief. Even though his brow was all crunched up with annoyance and those dark eyes were skewering her, by telling her she could have come on to the wrong guy he was telling her she’d gotten lucky and picked the right one. A guy who probably wasn’t going to hold her to the outrageous sexual activity she’d promised.
“Has he hurt you before?”
His expression remained hard, but the note of compassion she heard in his voice made her a little less proud of the lie she’d fabricated. She sighed. “Yeah.”
“Ever put you in the hospital?”
She pondered that one, warning herself not to get too carried away. “Once.”
“Jesus.” He breathed the word with quiet exasperation. “Why didn’t you just tell me what was going on when you came into that diner? I could have—”
“No. You couldn’t have. My boyfriend’s huge, and he’s ugly, and he’s got this shaved head and these hideous tattoos, and he’s mean. Really mean. One look at him and nobody would have helped me, and I wouldn’t have blamed them.”
John screwed up his face. “And this guy is your boyfriend?”
She had to admit that did sound kind of moronic. She shrugged weakly. “Well, sometimes he can be really sweet, if he sets his mind to it.”
“Sweet? Sweet?” John sat up on the edge of the sofa, looking as if he wanted to rip his hair out. “What’s wrong with some of you women, anyway? You let a man use you as a punching bag, then tell the world how wonderful he is. I swear to God—”
He stopped short, then waved a hand in dismissal. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.” He got up from the sofa and reached for his coat. “I’m taking you home. Where do you live?”
She sighed, fiddling with a loose string on the sofa. “With my boyfriend.”
He stared at her dumbly for a moment, then let out a heavy sigh. “Do you have any friends you can stay with? Relatives?”
“Uh...we just moved here. I don’t know anybody.”
“Well, that’s just great.” He threw his coat back down on the sofa.
She turned her gaze up to meet his. “Do you think I could stay here tonight?”
“No. No way.”
“But—”
“I said no. I don’t want to get involved in this.”
“You’re not involved in anything. My boyfriend has no idea where I am. Let me stay here. Please.” She paused, sending him a wide-eyed look of utter helplessness, praying it would be enough to sway him. “I really don’t have anywhere else to go.”
He rolled his eyes a little, and after several seconds of tight-lipped glaring, he threw his arms up in resignation.
“Oh, hell. Why not? It’s a damn fool thing to do, but I might as well stick with the theme of the evening, right?”
She ducked her head submissively. Mission accomplished.
“You can stay here tonight. But in the morning I’m taking you to the local authorities.”
Renee’s head shot up. “What?”
“You’re going to press charges.”
She felt a surge of panic. She sat up suddenly, shaking her head wildly. “No. You don’t understand. I can’t press charges. He’ll kill me if I go to the police—”
“He’ll kill you if you don’t. That’s the deal, sweetheart. Take it or leave it.”
Okay. So the world’s greatest lie had a flaw or two.
Renee decided she didn’t have any choice but to play along, even though she had no intention of getting within ten miles of a police station. At least for now, she was safe. She’d worry about tomorrow...tomorrow. After all, if she just flatly refused to go to the police, what could he do? Drag her there?
“Okay,” she said. “I will.”
John nodded brusquely and rose from the sofa. “It’s cold in here. I’ll make a fire.”
Without another word, he grabbed his coat and left the cabin.
Renee sat back on the sofa, relief spilling through her. She’d just told the most outrageous lie of her life, but her luck had held. Her nose hadn’t grown a foot and her pants hadn’t caught fire.
Spending the night alone with John still made her a little nervous, but at least now she had a better feel for the kind of man she was dealing with. A few times in the midst of her tragically sincere performance she saw a hint of compassion beneath his tough-guy demeanor, and instinctively knew she had nothing to fear from him.
Unless he found out she lied.
Chapter 4
The cold night wind hit John like a slap in the face, and it was a slap he needed badly. He hoped it would clear his head, make him see things more clearly, but as he strode to the woodpile, his brain still felt scrambled. Spending one hour with that woman had been like getting stuck on a roller coaster with no way off.
He glanced back through the window. She was sitting on the sofa, her knees pulled up to her chest and her chin resting on her knees, staring ahead blankly. An unexpected wave of protectiveness swept over him, followed by an even bigger wave of anger. The way she’d looked up at him with those big blue eyes had made him want to beat her abusive boyfriend to a bloody pulp. To make him think twice before he hurt a woman who couldn’t defend herself. To render him incapable of even thinking of raising a hand to—
Wait a minute. Where was all this emotional-reaction crap coming from?
John let out a disgusted breath. All he had to do was look at her and he was back on that roller coaster again.
An emotionally involved cop isn’t worth a damn.
He wasn’t acting in a professional capacity here, but the warning was appropriate just the same. He turned around and headed to the woodpile, cursing himself for going nuts over something that was really pretty routine. Hadn’t he see
n domestic abuse cases at least a hundred times before? Why was this particular woman making him crazy?
Because he knew what it felt like to kiss her.
The very thought that a man could find it more gratifying to inflict pain on that warm, beautiful body of hers rather than pleasure was completely beyond his understanding. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to go back into that cabin, take her in his arms, and spend the long hours of the night showing her how a man was supposed to treat a woman. To give her something to think about the next time a bastard like that boyfriend of hers decided to take out his aggression on her. To make her understand that for every guy like that, there were a thousand other guys who’d touch her in ways that fueled her daydreams rather than haunted her nightmares—
He yanked up a couple of logs from the woodpile, cursing himself again. He couldn’t believe it. He still wanted her. Even after everything she’d told him, he still wanted her. What did he think he was? Some kind of sexual social worker?
It would be nice to be able to blame this whole mess on her, but he knew he’d been playing with fire back at the diner, and he’d walked right into the flames anyway. This was a perfect example of what happened when he put the cop side of his brain on hold for any length of time. He stopped looking at things rationally and logically.
And started beating up paper-towel dispensers.
With new resolve, he strode back toward the cabin. He’d let her stay here tonight, because at this late hour it would be a pain in the ass to do anything else. Then tomorrow morning he’d deliver her to the local guys and suggest strongly that she give them a statement. Like most battered women, she’d probably refuse, but that wasn’t his problem. After that, he’d head back over to Harley’s place, see what Marva had cooking, and catch up on the local news of Winslow, Texas.
And if a beautiful woman wandered into the diner looking for a good time, he’d flash his badge like a cross in front of a vampire and suggest she take her sexual appetites elsewhere.
