Naked Pursuit

by Jill Monroe

  “Did you drive down from Colorado with him?” his mother asked.

  “Uh, actually I’m from Dallas.”

  “Really?” His mom’s smile widened. “That’s wonderful news.”

  Guilt thrummed through her. Oh, no, had she just given his family some kind of false hope that Stella might lure Owen back to Dallas? For her?

  “I was just about to lay out some cold cuts and salad for a quick lunch. We’d love for you to join us.”

  “Well, I, uh...” she hedged. Why couldn’t she dredge up some kind of plausible excuse? She was supposed to be quick on her feet.

  Then Owen draped his arm around her shoulders. “We’d love to.”

  She blinked. Was this the same guy who’d referred to being caught by his sister a few moments ago as a disaster?

  He angled his head toward the handcuff and chain still dangling from his wrist. “We’ll just finish up out here.”

  “Yeah, not sure what Gram would say about that. C’mon, Bethany. You can help me set out the plates.”

  Owen’s sister laughed. “Really? Set out the plates? No offense, but that’s the excuse you came up with?”

  Mrs. Perkins curved her hand on Bethany’s shoulder and turned the young woman toward the door. “Move it. Your brother wants to be alone with his girlfriend. My guess is, he’s going to make sure she doesn’t bolt for that ratty old truck of his.”

  The door shut behind them. Stella counted silently to three so Owen’s family would be out of earshot. Then she rounded on him. “Are you crazy? I had almost three legitimate excuses lined up to get out of here, and then you blew it.”

  “Crazy? More like genius. I’m using you as a human shield against my sisters.”

  “Oh, please. Your family is great.”

  Owen shuddered. “I learned what a half nelson was from my sisters. As they performed it on me.” But there was a smile in his voice as he returned to the worktable. He picked up the bolt cutter and attempted to hand it to her, but Stella reached for his hand instead.

  “Owen, why am I here?”

  “The tools are here.”

  She shook her head. “No. We could have stopped off at any hardware store. There are probably at least three between the hotel and here. We’d have gone our separate ways by now.”

  The bolt cutters clanked against the table as he dropped them. His gaze clouded and he frowned. He sucked in a breath and blew out the air, his cheeks puffing. “I guess I wasn’t ready to go my separate way from you yet.”

  “Oh.” Of all the answers she could have expected, that admission wasn’t one of them. It left her a little...dazed.

  “But you practically dragged me across the grass to get in here. I’m surprised you didn’t hoist me over your shoulder, firefighter-style.”

  “We don’t actually do that anymore. Smoke and heat are really more dangerous the higher you hold a person. That’s why in a fire you should crawl on the floor, get as low as possible.”

  She crossed her arms across her chest. “So you’re saying you dragged me across the yard earlier because of your training? Like muscle memory?”

  He shook his head. There was that half smile all the Perkinses seemed to share. He lifted his wrist. “You as buffer—yes. You as handcuffed buffer—no. Besides, I was in a hurry because I wanted to spend a little more time with you. Not more time with you and my family.”

  “Wow, you have a way of sucking the righteous indignation right out of a person.”

  “It’s my superpower.”

  She would have gone with “sexy as hell” being his superpower. Drawing a woman’s attention with a single glance. More powerful than common sense. Able to shatter a woman’s romantic defenses in a single bound.

  Stella slumped against the worktable, and Owen edged around to slump right beside her. She glanced over at him. “Are you worried? About last night? What we might have done?”

  Owen shook his head. “My mom wasn’t worried, and the plan yesterday was that I was supposed to sleep over at their house last night. I must have called so my parents wouldn’t freak out when I didn’t show.”

  “Do they still have your old bedroom?”

  He tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Mom hasn’t changed a single thing.”

  “That’s kind of sweet.”

  By Stella’s sophomore year in college, her mom had converted Stella’s bedroom into a craft room. There was always the guest bedroom, but most of Stella’s high school memories and memorabilia were boxed up and stacked in the attic, ready for when she wanted to claim it.

  He stared straight ahead, his gaze unfocused. “They didn’t understand my need to get out. I couldn’t stay in Dallas.”

  The garden wasn’t the only thing with secrets. Stella was growing more and more intrigued about the rugged man beside her. But she couldn’t get any more involved with her one-night (maybe one-weekend) guy than she already was. She braced herself off the table and grabbed the bolt cutters. “C’mon, firefighter. You have a date with the shears.”

  He snatched his hand away. “Are you sure? Don’t cut me.”

  She adopted her most reassuring expression and comforting voice. “Please. I’m a doctor. I won’t just cut you, I’ll do it with precision accuracy.”

  He plopped his arm on the sawhorse with a snort. “Had to pick one with sass.”

  He lifted the metal cuff and she slid the bolt cutters in place. With a single snap, she freed him.

  “Damn. Not even a scratch,” she said with faux complaint.

  He squinted at his wrist then held out his hand to her. “Actually...I may see something there.”

  “And you need medical attention?”

  “Maybe even a full examination.”

  She gripped his arm and examined the skin where the cuff had once been. Slight redness, maybe some bruising. “Does this hurt?”

  “No. It’s not numb, but it’s as if I couldn’t feel pain if I tried to hurt myself.”

  “But you winced when I touched the marks on your back.”

  “The marks you gave me?” he asked. Satisfaction punctuated his every word. “I winced because a gorgeous woman caressed the sex wounds she’d given me the night before.”

  Sex wounds? She dropped his hand. “You’ll be fine.”

  “That’s some pretty amazing bedside manner you have there, Doc.”

  Her gaze narrowed. Had he just challenged her? Stella reached for his arm. “Let me try this again.” She gently ran her fingers down the sensitive skin of his palm. His fingers flexed at her slow and lazy touch. Had she read somewhere that the underside of the wrist was an erogenous zone? Didn’t matter. She would make it one.

  She raised his arm higher, until her breath teased the skin of his arm. She ghosted his wrist with her lips and smiled at his quick intake of air. “Does that hurt? Or are you almost numb?” she asked.

  Owen shook his head. “Definitely not numb.”

  So pain receptors dulled, but pleasure sensors fully engaged. Interesting. She flicked her tongue against his heated skin. “How about now?”

  “No.” He swallowed. “I’m good.”

  “It’s my medical opinion that I should continue my examination.” If she’d watched this scene in a movie, it would have been cheesy as hell, but here, in the shadows of the shed, with the sexiest man alive, she felt bold and sensual. She liked teasing him. Liked that he liked it, too.

  “If that’s what the doctor orders.”

  She offered him a grave nod. “It’s my professional medical opinion.” Stella ran her lips slowly up his arm, and she couldn’t help smiling as his hand fisted. “Most people call this the crease of your elbow, but its medical name is the cubital fossa.” She kissed the skin she met there, and then licked him. He rewarded her with an agonized groan. That raw sound made her ache. All this for just a little play with an elbow? She was in trouble with this one.

  Stella dropped his arm. “I think you’re good.”

  He chuckled low in his throat, and
the sound of that even made her nipples harden.

  “Wow. That was hotter than I ever would have imagined.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “I know why I left Colorado yesterday morning with one plan and woke up to something else.”

  “Why?”

  “This.” Owen’s hands curved around her shoulders, and he tugged her against the rock-solidness of his body. His head lowered and his mouth grazed against hers. Then he settled his lips on hers, and her breath caught in her chest.

  He traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue and then slid his lips along hers. Stella draped her arms around his neck. Her nipples puckered inside her bra and she rubbed her breasts against him to feel more.

  His lips broke from hers and he rested his forehead on hers. “Ah, Stella. You’re amazing,” he told her, his breath ragged. “I could stay out here the rest of my days just kissing your lips.”

  She shot him a skeptical glance. “Just kissing?”

  And yes, there was that sexy half grin in response. “Oh, I could fill the time with you, believe me.” Then his expression grew serious. “It’s going to be awkward as hell with my family, and I know spending Friday night with complete strangers wasn’t your plan for this weekend.”

  She shrugged. “I can’t remember what my plan was for the weekend.”

  He cupped her cheeks. “Just say the word and I’ll drive you wherever you want to go. I need to grab an intact shirt anyway.”

  Actually, that was exactly what she should tell him to do. Drive her back to her apartment. One of her roommates would let her in. Hell, one of them might know what she’d done last night. It made perfect sense.

  She looped her arm through his. “I think I was promised lunch.”

  His shoulders relaxed and his sensual lips curved into a smile just for her. “You sure? My family will probably drive you nuts with their questions and their full-on intrusion into your life. No topic is safe.”

  Emotions were complicated and not to be trusted. She’d been taught to control them from an early age. But today, right now with this delicious man, what would be the harm in letting that tight control go for once?

  “Are you kidding? I gotta see the house that goes with that garden.”

  7

  THE HOUSE DID not disappoint. French doors led from the courtyard into a large and airy great room. She’d imagined something stuffy and maybe a bit formal to go with the Tudor Revival style, but the furniture was soft and inviting. Family pictures graced the walls, the mantel and the bookshelf...actually, every available space.

  The ceiling soared high above her head, arched with cross-timbers and two beautiful stained-glass bay windows with stuffed cushioned seats, which invited a quiet conversation. Or a stolen kiss.

  The great room opened into a large kitchen where Karen and Bethany and two other women who must be Owen’s sisters were busy laying out cold cuts and sides. Karen rushed over to her as soon as they entered. “I’ve placed one of Charlotte’s blouses for you in the hall bath if you want to freshen up before you meet the rest of the family.”

  With a grateful smile, Stella quickly ducked into the bathroom. She closed the door and hugged her arms around her waist, alone for the first time since...well, she didn’t know how long. After splashing water on her face and smoothing her hair into some semblance of order, she removed her shirt.

  Stella loved this little black-and-white top, but there was no saving it now. With a shrug, she tossed it into the trash. A folded lavender silk blouse waited for her on the counter. The cut was a little old-fashioned, but the fabric was soft and expensive, and Stella gratefully smoothed the shirt in place. With a deep breath, Stella twisted the knob and left her refuge to return to Owen’s family.

  In front of a roaring fire sat a nice-looking man who shared Owen’s height and broad shoulders. The man’s eyes were brown instead of hazel, but he had to be Owen’s father. Beside him sat an older woman, a cane at her feet. This must be the Gram Gram everyone was talking about.

  Owen’s father stood as Stella entered, and he greeted her with a warm smile. She suspected the man would have preferred to meet her with a hug, he seemed so happy to see the both of them. “Welcome, come in.”

  “Stella, this is my dad, Roger.”

  “We’re so glad you were able to make the trip down from Colorado,” he said, his hand engulfing hers in quick shake.

  “She’s from right here in Dallas, honey,” Karen called from the kitchen.

  His big smile widened. “Even better.”

  Owen kneeled in front of the older woman still reclining in the overstuffed lounger, although she didn’t appear to be happy about it. Her toes tapped against the hardwood floor and her fingers gripped the armrest like she’d propel herself to stand by force if she could.

  “And this lovely lady is my grandmother, Charlotte Perkins.”

  “I’d greet you properly if the surgeon wasn’t forcing me to sit in this chair.”

  “You’ll be dancing in no time,” he assured her. Owen glanced up toward Stella. “She just had knee replacement surgery. Gram used to be a Rockette.”

  “And I should be practicing my kicks instead of taking it easy. That charity reunion is this summer.”

  “Yes, but Gram, you don’t want to reinjure yourself.”

  The older Mrs. Perkins aimed an annoyed glance toward her son. “Telling tales, Roger?”

  He kissed her cheek. “Only the truth. The physical therapist said you’re to be doing only the exercises she prescribed. Your stair obsession is going to land you back in the rehab center.”

  Charlotte shuddered. “More doctors.”

  Stella tried to hide a smile, but Owen openly laughed. “Can’t complain too much, Gram Gram. Stella’s going to be a doctor.”

  “No, she’s right to complain,” Stella said. “That’s the first thing we learn in med school. How to wake up patients just as they fall asleep. Unnecessary vital checks. Probing questions about the bathroom. Honestly, we make it as annoying as possible so you won’t want to stay in the examination room or hospital bed.”

  Charlotte laughed. “Finally the truth comes out. You’ll be welcome here even when I kick out that son and grandson of mine for constantly being on my case. And what a lovely blouse.”

  Had the older woman not recognized her shirt or was she deadpanning? “Thanks. Had I known it was your birthday, I would have brought you something. Obviously free medical advice is out.”

  Charlotte shuddered again. “Just you luring my grandson home for the weekend is gift enough,” she said loudly and with a wave of her hands. “You can slip me some vodka later,” she whispered for Stella’s ears alone. She’d definitely deadpanned the shirt bit.

  Owen straightened and reached for Stella’s hand. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the family. You met Bethany already,” he said as he drew her toward the airy kitchen. “These are my other sisters, Amelia and Daphne.”

  Whereas Owen and Bethany favored their mother, Amelia and Daphne both resembled their dad. Dark brown eyes and hair, no hint of a honey tint.

  “No offense, but why are you with this guy?” Amelia asked, then kissed her brother’s cheek in welcome.

  Karen placed her hand on her son’s shoulder. “Owen, grab a few more logs for the fire. I can just picture your gram going outside tonight after we leave.”

  His eyes widened and he glanced down at Stella. “Um—”

  His mother gave him a little push. “Go. She’ll be just fine.”

  Now it was Stella’s turn for her eyes to widen. She now understood Karen’s motivation for Owen’s impromptu errand. Separate and interrogate. Without Owen’s overwhelming (and protective) presence, Karen could sneak in a few questions. His family assumed they were in a real relationship, and Karen wanted to check her out to see if Stella was good enough for her son.

  Should she make a break for it?

  Karen patted her hand. “Don’t worry. After all, I already know you’re going to be a doctor so you�
�ll be able to support our son,” she said with a wink.

  Bethany snorted. “Yeah, keep him in old trucks and muddy hiking boots.”

  “So, how’d you two meet?” Daphne asked.

  Stella’s mouth dried. How had they met? Surrounded by this loud and loving family, she’d been able to forget this morning. No memory. Handcuffs. Bathtub. Any rational person would be freaking out. Racing around trying to ferret out details. Not holing up inside a beautiful home, eyeing plates of meat and cheese.

  Daphne’s question sounded casual to the unguarded ear, but all the women directed their full attention on Stella.

  “Oh, was it a first-responder thing?” Bethany asked.

  Stella grabbed that easy answer and nodded vigorously. But actually, that might not be too far from the truth. Maybe they’d witnessed an accident or spotted someone hurt and both had used their training to help. Maybe they’d been exposed to some kind of drug or breathable agent while they were aiding the victim, it had wiped away their memories, and all last night was some magical mystery they’d never remember.

  Once again she longed for her phone so she could check out the headlines.

  Owen returned at that moment, carrying an armful of wood. He brought in a blast of cool fall air. He stacked the logs on the hearth, the muscles of his arms stretching and flexing. The man’s body was a work of art, the perfect specimen that could be found in one of her anatomy books.

  “Oh, yeah, she’s got it,” Daphne said, and the other sisters laughed.

  Stella felt the heat of a flush warm her cheeks. She’d just been caught staring at a man by his sisters. How embarrassing.

  Amelia rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. In fact, we’re used to it. Girls have been drooling over Owen since he was in sixth grade.”

  Figured. The man had been lethal even as a kid.

  “Or friends would try to score an invite to our house or try to spot him after football practice,” Bethany told her.

  “Football?” Stella asked.

  Bethany nodded. “He was the quarterback.”