by Judy Duarte
Normally Nick came home after an arrest like Kramer’s feeling proud as hell and pumped, the adrenaline flowing in a way that made sleep tough.
And he felt like that now, but the buzz from the interrogation and subsequent confession was diluted with guilt for leaving Hailey alone.
He half expected to enter the house and find her pacing the floor—like Carla had done on numerous occasions. His old lover was actually a great lady, but when she got mad at Nick, she morphed into a broom-riding nag.
Braced for the worst, but trying to be considerate and quiet in case Hailey was asleep, Nick let himself in.
The room was dark, lit only by the city lights shining through the living room window. But the scent of lemon and pine accosted him, letting him know that instead of spending time watching television, Hailey had scrubbed and cleaned.
And, no doubt, gotten worked up in the process.
Damn. Would he have to listen to her gripe about the way he put toilet paper on the spindle? Or have her rag on him about the grungy shower curtain that suited him just fine?
Not tonight, he supposed. Hailey was as quiet as a country mouse. He made his way through the room, until he spotted her asleep on the sofa. Her hair spread out on a pillow she’d taken from the bed, her eyes closed softly, her mouth slightly parted.
She wore an oversize T-shirt—nothing special, and certainly not silk or satin—but for some damn reason she looked as sexy as hell.
He had the urge to wake her, take her to his bed, to taste her, love her. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that, although a growing arousal argued that his conscience had better damn well reconsider.
But other than a temporary affair, he had nothing to offer Hailey. And besides, wasn’t there something morally wrong about sleeping with his friend’s daughter? Sleeping with her more than once, anyway. Hell, even a rebel had his principles.
Go take a shower, his conscience suggested. Stop watching her like a perverted Peeping Tom.
But Nick’s feet wouldn’t move.
Maybe it would be okay to wake her, just so she could fall back asleep in his bed. Where she belonged.
Hadn’t they agreed that the sofa was supposed to be his while she stayed here?
Hey, his conscience said, don’t use that flimsy excuse as a reason to wake her.
But he shook off the thought, reached out and touched Hailey’s arm, jostling her softly. “Hey.”
She opened her eyes, then stretched like a cat napping in the sun and sent him a sleepy-eyed smile.
Nick might have made up his mind to keep his hands to himself, but somebody should have told his arms. And his libido. He had an overwhelming urge to brush a kiss against her lips. To waken that fiery passion that bubbled just under her surface, the passion he knew burned hot.
“Sorry to wake you,” he lied. “I thought you might want to go to bed.”
Her mouth opened, and her eyes widened.
“I meant to sleep,” he corrected. Yet he wasn’t thinking about sleep. He was thinking about sliding his hands under the hem of her nightshirt, of running his fingers along her skin, seeking out her breasts and making her nipples harden.
He raked a hand through his hair instead.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“About midnight.”
She sat up and looked around the room. “It feels like morning.”
“I figured you might clobber me if I carried you to bed.” He nodded toward the foot of the couch, where the spare blanket had bunched up at her bare feet. “I’m supposed to take the sofa.”
“I don’t mind.” She stifled a yawn, then got up and padded toward the kitchen. The shirt she wore barely covered a pair of gray flannel shorts, revealing shapely legs. Legs that had once wrapped around him.
He watched as she reached into the cupboard and took out a glass.
“I’ve got beer in the fridge,” he said. “Milk, too, I think.”
“No, thanks. And the milk is gone.” She turned on the spigot and filled her glass with water. “By the way, you need to stock your cupboards better. I ate your last can of tuna.”
Feeling like a lousy host, he said, “I…uh…eat out a lot. I figured we’d…”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I ate some of the saltines, too. If you pick up some plastic containers at the store, your crackers will keep longer.”
A can of tuna fish and stale crackers. That was a hell of a meal. He’d hightailed it out of here so fast he hadn’t thought about feeding her. And she was right. He didn’t stock much of anything in his house, finding it easier to pick up fast food. “When I got that call from my partner, I just…I’m sorry, Hailey.”
“I’m a big girl.” She drank the water, then replaced the glass in the sink.
“How about I make it up to you by taking you out to breakfast in the morning?”
“Don’t worry about it.” She padded back to the sofa and plopped down.
“And I’ll take you someplace tomorrow. Old Town, maybe. Or Balboa Park.”
“It’s not a problem, Detective. I kept busy.”
She’d kept busy, all right, cleaning up his apartment, and building up a ton of resentment. He braced himself for a broom-flying attack.
But she didn’t say anything, didn’t complain. Which, he decided, was worse. Because instead of feeling defensive, he felt something else. Guilt, maybe, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. This was his life. His place. Which had been arguments he’d shot at Carla whenever she tried to make him into something he wasn’t.
“Want to watch television?” she asked. “I’m not sure if I can go back to sleep.”
Nick figured he was in for a long night, too. “Why not?”
She picked up the remote and clicked until she found a chick flick already in progress. But before he could suggest something else, something with some action, she said, “I love this movie. And Meg Ryan is my favorite actress.”
Oh, no. Not a romantic comedy. Not tonight. He could sure use a little shoot ’em up right now. A few explosions. Some bones breaking, Steven Segal style.
He started to object, but with Hailey at his side, looking as sweet and cuddly as Meg Ryan ever did, he squirmed in his seat instead.
“Have you ever seen When Harry Met Sally?” she asked.
“Nope.” But he liked Billy Crystal, so maybe there’d be a few laughs. Something to take his mind off the pretty brunette sitting next to him, with her bare legs tucked under her.
Surprisingly, the movie drew his interest. And when Meg’s character discussed women faking orgasms while sitting across the table from Billy’s character in a crowded restaurant, Nick couldn’t help but chuckle, especially when Meg went into great detail while showing Billy how easily it was done.
Nick shot a glance at Hailey, caught her stealing a look at him. Had she ever faked an orgasm?
Not with him, of course. The climaxes she’d had with him had been real. Earth-shattering. The kind to make a guy want to pummel his chest, Tarzan-style.
“She’s right, you know.” Hailey grinned.
Breaking his vow not to bring up that night, not to stir memories of hot sex on a cold night, Nick said, “You weren’t faking with me.”
She sort of chuckled in that feminine way that suggested men didn’t know squat about women, which was true, he supposed. But she hadn’t faked anything with him. No way. No woman was that good an actress. But it struck a blow to his ego, making his male pride falter just a tad.
Hailey merely grinned, although she wasn’t sure why. He was right. That night in Minnesota had been good. Darn good. Maybe she didn’t want him to know how much of an effect he’d had on her. He still had.
She turned in her seat, knees drawn up in a protective posture, and she tossed him a crooked smile, taunting him without words.
“You didn’t fake anything,” he said.
Maybe it was the all-knowing tone of his voice, or the glimmer of doubt she spotted in his eye. Either way, it made her want to
tease about a subject they had no business broaching. “I guess you’ll never know for sure.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “But don’t even go there, honey. Or I’ll make you eat your words.”
For a moment, his threat—or was it a promise?—hung in the air, waiting for action. Or reaction. The sexual energy that had been so strong in Minnesota came back full force.
Hailey didn’t dare move, didn’t dare open the door they’d both closed on the intimacy they’d shared. Yet her body screamed out in frustration, like a child throwing a temper tantrum.
She wanted to lean forward. Touch him. Place her mouth on his. Taste the spearmint flavor of the breath mints he favored.
And when she saw the passion in his gaze, saw the struggle he fought, she turned toward the television. Tried to focus on the movie. But her efforts to sidetrack the subject failed.
Her mind wanted only one thing. To feel Nick Granger’s hands on her again. To kiss him as though there were no secrets between them, no reason on God’s green earth why they shouldn’t enter a full-blown love affair.
“I didn’t fake anything,” she admitted. “It was pretty good, as far as sex goes.”
“It was better than good,” he muttered. “But I think we both know better than to get involved like that again.”
Yes, she supposed that was true. But something deep inside, something decidedly female and wistful, wanted more. Wanted something that couldn’t possibly be good for her.
She unwrapped her legs from under her and stood, tugging at the boxer-style shorts she wore. Then she made her way to the window, to the starry display of city lights.
“You agree, don’t you?” Nick followed her to the window, stood behind her, close enough for her to savor his musky scent, to catch a whiff of spearmint. “That a repeat of that night isn’t going to do either of us a bit of good.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder, as though wanting to turn her around, to make her face him, to face what had happened in Minnesota.
But how could she? How could she admit to having a weakness when it came to Nick Granger? Admit that she had big plans for her future, plans that didn’t include a brief affair with a man she had no business pursuing, a man who weakened her knees and turned her inside out.
Wouldn’t the intimacy of making love again only further complicate things?
Hadn’t he said as much?
A repeat of that night isn’t going to do either of us any good.
Hailey turned, her eyes landing on his. “I’ve always thought a sexual relationship should be built upon more than a healthy libido.”
A slow grin tugged at his lips. “That’s the woman in you speaking. A guy doesn’t mind having a great sexual relationship. But women start wanting more.”
“Then, there you have it.” She tried to return his smile. “We couldn’t have anything more than great sex.”
“You’re right.”
This was one time Hailey wished she wasn’t right, wished that Nick could convince her to share his bed, to consider sharing more than that. Their baby, maybe.
He placed a kiss upon her cheek in a brotherly manner.
But the heat that pooled in her belly was anything but a sisterly response. How could a man who was so wrong for her stir such desire?
There was more to a relationship than sex. More to a home than a man and woman living under one roof. There was teamwork. And love.
But that wasn’t something she wanted to talk to Nick about. Not tonight.
“I think I’ll turn in,” she said.
“Sure.”
They stood there like that for a while, as though both struggling with common sense and desire.
Then Hailey tossed him a lighthearted smile, one she hoped masked the heavy-duty thoughts that warred inside her brain. “Good night.”
Nick stepped aside. “Sleep tight.”
Fat chance of that, she thought, as she slipped behind the screen that provided very little privacy.
Sleep would be a long time coming tonight.
And maybe for several nights to follow.
Chapter Nine
Nick slept like crap.
But that didn’t surprise him. He’d struggled with his conscience and his sex drive until dawn. Memories of his and Hailey’s lovemaking had driven him wild with need. He’d relived each touch, each kiss, each thrust until he thought he’d go nuts.
Try as he might, he couldn’t forget the night he and Hailey had broken the rules. And knowing that she lay within reach hadn’t helped cool his heels or his arousal.
Still, he’d managed to stay on the sofa, which ought to count for something. He wondered whether God—or whoever the Almighty put in charge of passing out the gold stars in Heaven—had noticed that the one-time rebel had behaved himself.
Nick had never been a saint—far from it. So he figured a few good moves on his part, like getting criminals off the street, or, in this case, keeping his hands off Harry Logan’s daughter, might score a few points for a guy who’d once been headed straight to hell. Lord knew he had a lot of making up to do.
He finally dozed off around four, only to be awakened by something that sounded a lot like someone heaving. Or maybe it was a garbage truck rumbling by.
Squinting at the sunlight pouring in the window, he glanced at the clock: 9:14. Time to get up, he supposed. But another gut-wrenching heave drew his attention.
What the heck? Was Hailey sick?
He knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you okay?”
“I’m,” she managed to say between gags, “ff…fine.”
She didn’t sound fine. Shoot, she hadn’t eaten much last night. Tuna and saltines, she’d said. Maybe the canned fish had gone bad.
Where the hell had that tuna come from? Since he didn’t particularly like the stuff, and Carla had tried to make some godawful casseroles, he guessed that she’d bought it. But hell, it was possible the darn can had been in the pantry when he moved in.
Maybe the lid had bulged, and Hailey hadn’t noticed. And if she ate it…
She heaved again.
Oh, for cripe’s sake. What was wrong with her? Botulism? Salmonella? Or just a case of stomach flu?
“Can I get you something?” he asked.
“No.”
A few minutes later the toilet flushed, and he waited for her to come out. It seemed like forever, but when she finally stepped through the door, her eyes were red and watery, and she was ghostly pale. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Don’t worry about me,” she reiterated.
As she made her way toward the bed like a drunken sailor on his first shore leave in months, her steps faltered, and she tried to steady herself by placing a hand on the wall.
Nick stepped forward, which was a darn good thing, because her legs went out from under her, and he managed to catch her just in time.
God, was he in trouble now. Not only had he slept with Harry’s daughter while in Minnesota, but he’d brought her to California only to make her sick.
He placed her on the bed and watched her eyelids flutter. She appeared to have fainted.
He was supposed to be trained to handle this kind of stuff. But he stood there, unmoving, like a stone-cold statue of some dead hero in the park.
He watched Hailey come to, her face pale, her eyes slowly opening. She seemed to focus, to recognize him, he supposed. But she looked miserable. As much as he was tempted to call 911 and get some backup, he braced himself to wait it out. To figure out what he was up against.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
She was sorry? “For what?”
“For being a bother, I guess.” She closed her eyes and blew out a weak sigh.
“You’re not a bother. But I’m going to call a doctor. Maybe take you to the E.R. and have someone look you over.”
Hopefully, Nick’s friend, Luke Wynter, was on call. Once a delinquent like Nick, Luke had straightened out his life, too, thanks to Harry. The E.R. resident was a whiz when it c
ame to bullet holes, knife wounds and broken bones. An upset stomach should be a piece of cake.
“I don’t need a doctor.” Hailey slowly sat up in bed, then placed a hand on her forehead and grimaced. “I’m just a little light-headed from not eating much yesterday.”
Again Nick felt like a jerk. Okay, so he hadn’t been responsible for poisoning Harry’s daughter. But he’d damn near starved her to death—if he could believe what she said about her illness being no big deal.
“Are you sure you’re only woozy from not eating?” he asked.
“I’m sure.”
He furrowed his brow. “Then why did you throw up?”
“Too much bile in my tummy, I guess.” She offered him a puny smile and a shrug.
“Then I better feed you. There’s a great diner just a block or two away. How about we go have some breakfast?” He was thinking something hearty, like steak and eggs. Biscuits and gravy. Something that would fill her up and keep her going until the next meal.
“Getting some breakfast is probably a good idea, but right now I could sure use a piece of toast. Or maybe some crackers.”
“How about those stale saltines?” he asked, trying to make light of his meager food supply.
“I’ll take whatever you’ve got.” She blew out a weak sigh. “And could you hurry?”
Nick left Hailey on the bed and went in search of the crackers, although he thought it might be better to call in the paramedics. Hell, he’d seen enough blood and guts during a routine homicide investigation to handle this kind of thing with ease. But for some reason, this was different. This was Hailey. His mentor’s daughter. A woman who’d been placed in his care.
When he entered the kitchen, he realized she’d done more than wash the dishes and wipe down the counters. Sunlight glistened through the window, and he caught his reflection in the chrome on the stove, the oven, too. Shoot, even Carla hadn’t cleaned the kitchen this thoroughly.
He opened the cupboard that served as a pantry, and although there wasn’t much of anything there, each can was stacked neatly. Just as organized as her cupboards back home.
Was Hailey nesting in his house? Moving in, like Carla had done?
