by Kylie Brant
“There, all finished.” Cruz turned to catch her faraway expression. “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll catch this guy. It’s just a matter of time. And Connor will weather this meeting all right. He’s been through it before, and he knows how to handle the overeager brass.”
“Thanks a lot, Cruz,” Michele said sincerely. “What can I get you? I don’t have much in the fridge, but I do think I could find you a cold beer.”
“That’d be great, thanks.”
She reached in the refrigerator and found a lone beer for him, and a diet soda for herself. They drank in companionable silence for a few minutes before a knock on the door was followed by Connor walking in.
Michele’s eyes swept over him hungrily. After what Cruz had told her, she’d been alarmed for him. But he didn’t look any the worse for wear from his meeting, only a little out of sorts. Her body warmed as he returned her look tenfold.
“Sure. Now he shows up, after all the work is done,” Cruz jeered good-naturedly. He pointed the half-empty bottle at his partner and addressed Michele. “He’s the same way at work. Nothing but a slacker. I have to carry him every step of the way.”
Connor approached and looked in the refrigerator, before turning a jaundiced eye on his friend. “I see you commandeered the last beer for yourself in return for services rendered.”
“Not at all,” Cruz denied breezily. “Michele more than paid me back with that kiss she planted on me right before you came in. Wow, that mouth of hers ought to be registered at the station, buddy.” He broke off at the mask of ice that settled over Connor’s face. “Hey, I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”
Taking a long careful look at the two silent people, Cruz wisely decided to make an exit. If ever two people wanted to be alone, it was these two. “But you know, I was just leaving. As a matter of fact, I hear my mother calling me right now.”
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Connor offered, and Cruz knew he had been right. He also couldn’t resist baiting his friend one last time.
“I can sure see why you weren’t too curious about the rest of the background check, old chum.” He winked before going out the door. “Your taste is certainly improving. Bye, Michele,” he called, barely getting the words out before the door was shut after him.
Connor was reluctant to turn around. It was too much to hope that Michele hadn’t heard Cruz’s remark. He turned slowly and mentally cursed. By the looks of her still face, not only had she heard, she had probably misunderstood. “Michele . . .”
“You son of a bitch,” she whispered shakily. She wanted to scream; she wanted to throw something. But most of all she wanted to get away from him. She needed to hide, to pull herself back together, to regain her composure. She didn’t want to have to face him like this, knowing that while she had been at her most vulnerable to him, learning to trust him, he had been coldly continuing to look into every avenue of her life. Which meant he still didn’t believe her, of course.
That was hysterical, and she could almost feel laughter bubbling up inside her. She blinked tears away from her eyes. Please, God, no, she mentally prayed. That would be the final indignity, if she cried in front of him. “All the time—” her voice trembled despite her best efforts “—that you were gaining my trust, you never stopped suspecting me. Never.”
Connor watched her while his gut split in two. He despised himself for putting that look on her face. “It wasn’t like that,” he tried.
“Oh, please!” Michele’s voice dripped sarcasm. “You changed tactics to take me off guard, to keep an eye on me while you finished checking me out. Don’t you think you went a little too far with that, Lieutenant?” she jeered. “Taking me to bed surely went above and beyond the call of duty.”
“Taking you to bed had nothing to do with this,” Connor said between clenched teeth.
“Oh, I’ll bet not,” Michele agreed caustically. “Is that what those medals are for on your shelf at home? How many dangerous female criminals you kept off the street by taking them home and—” She never finished the crude question, because Connor swiftly crossed the room and grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Stop it,” he ordered.
Michele arched her head back to stare venomously up at him. “Why? You should be grateful to Cruz. You don’t have to pretend anymore. Now your motives are out in the open—for once,” she spat scathingly. “I assume that what you found out cleared me once and for all. After all, a great detective such as yourself would have cuffed me already if anything incriminating had shown up.”
“I may not cuff you,” Connor crooned, a dangerous glint in his eye, “but I’m giving serious consideration to gagging you.”
His grip tightened as Michele attempted to pull away from him. He shook her slightly, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Now you’re going to quit jumping to conclusions and listen to me.”
“There’s no point,” Michele stated dismissively. She welcomed the anger she was feeling now, but she knew it would be short-lived. When the numbing fury wore off, she knew it would leave pain in its wake. And she wanted Connor McLain long gone from here when that happened.
“You misunderstood what Cruz said.”
“Oh, you mean you didn’t order him to continue digging into my past?” Michele inquired saccharinely.
“I ordered it a long time ago, as you already knew.”
“Then what was Cruz talking about? He sounded like this was something quite recent.”
Connor spun away, one hand raking angrily through his thick hair. “I told him to leave it, to concentrate on the investigation. He got some free time and followed up on it. The first I knew of it was when he placed the results on my desk a couple of days ago.”
“And you read them.”
Connor turned back to her, his gaze steady. “I read them.”
“Well, since I’m not in a ball and chain, they must finally have convinced you that I’m above suspicion.” Michele’s hurt showed in her voice, and Connor nearly winced. “That’s something, at least.”
“You’re not a suspect in this case,” he said quietly.
“How nice to finally hear you admit that,” Michele said sarcastically. “Not a suspect, just a fruitcake, right? You have exceedingly shaky standards, Lieutenant. You’re not willing to sleep with a woman who might be involved in a crime, but one who might be nuts is fair game, is that it?”
Her sarcasm snapped Connor’s tenuous hold on his temper. “I don’t think you’re nuts.”
“Then you believe my dreams are real?”
Connor chose his words with care. “I believe that you believe them.”
Michele’s eyes closed in pain. How could she ever have allowed this man to get close to her? Usually her judgment was above reproach; if ever she erred it was on the side of caution. How had Connor gotten through her normally careful defenses so easily? The answer was glaringly apparent. Despite her careful machinations, he had barged through her defenses, and she had fallen in love with him. But that could be cured, she told herself bleakly. It had to be.
Michele opened her eyes to see Connor watching her steadily. She drew a deep breath, ignoring the stabbing pain it brought her. When she spoke, her voice was calm. “I want you out of here. Now.”
At her words, Connor felt his own temper fray alarmingly. She was doing it again, donning her royalty mask, receding from him as surely as if he were already gone. So she wanted him gone, did she? he asked himself savagely. Well, that was just too damn bad. She wasn’t going to kick him aside as easily as that. She was going to listen to him if he had to tie her up and gag her first. And from the look of the closed expression on her face, that might be necessary before he was done.
“Michele, listen to me.” He ignored her set expression. “This—none of it—has anything to do with you and me.”
“It must be very convenient to be able to compartmentalize your life like that, Lieutenant. Very nice and neat. But I happen to believe that if a man can’t be trusted professionally, he’s likely
to be untrustworthy personally, as well.”
He took a deep breath, trying to hold on to his disintegrating temper. “I wanted you long before I read that damn report, as you well know. I would think knowing that would please you.”
Michele’s eyes widened incredulously. “Please me? Your ego is excruciatingly overblown. You grossly overestimate your reputation as a stud if you think that one night in bed makes up for the fact that you’re a lying, untrustworthy, son of a—”
He moved so quickly that the rest of Michele’s words were arrested. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her so close that their faces were only centimeters apart. “That’s enough, damn it,” he growled. “You’re going to listen to me whether you like it or not. You do know what listening means, don’t you? After all, that’s supposed to be a psychologist’s forte.”
Michele’s mouth snapped shut as she glared murderously at him. He was right, and of course he knew just what buttons to push. She would hear him out, and then she would kick him out the door.
“I ordered a background check on you,” he began grimly, “because you came to us with information you should not have had. It was not inconceivable that you had arrived at that information criminally. It was my duty,” he caught her expression and stressed, “yes, my duty, damn you, to have your credibility verified.”
“That was impossible to do,” Michele reminded him stiffly, “when you were—and are—incapable of believing I could come by the information in any other way.”
“Ah, hell, Michele.” His voice was bleak. “What can I say? No, I don’t believe in psychics and dreams and all that. I’m too much of a pragmatist for that. But that doesn’t mean I don’t believe in you, the person.”
Michele hardened her heart against the obvious despair in his voice. She mustn’t let him get to her. She would hear him out, as she had promised. But she had to maintain the distance between them. For her own emotional equilibrium, she had to. “You’ve made it very clear on more than one occasion that I remind you of your ex-wife, who you do not hold in very high esteem. How am I supposed to trust that you suddenly overcame your antagonism toward me enough to want to . . .” Her voice trailed off as she searched for words to describe their unexpected attraction.
“Maybe I can’t explain it, Michele, even to myself. Did you ever think of that?” he shot back. He let go of her to rake one hand through his burnished gold hair. “Hell, you’ve had me so tangled up in knots since we met that I don’t even know myself anymore. Do you realize what it did to me to find myself getting hard for a woman who stood for everything I’ve always steered clear of? I was burned by Tricia, and yeah, I’ve sworn off women like you. But worse than that, even before I was sure you had nothing to do with the kidnappings, I wanted you. I’m too good a cop not to be bothered by that.”
She slanted a surprised glance at him. If he had wanted her from the beginning, he had managed to hide that fact very well. But despite herself, she felt herself warming at his words. At least the confusion and wanting weren’t all one-sided.
He speared her with a look. “If you feel betrayed, I’m sorry. I never expected Cruz to go ahead with the rest of the check. But I wasn’t able to pass up the chance to read it, either. And that seems to be what you can’t forgive.”
“Because you wanted further evidence of my innocence,” Michele put in bitterly.
“Because I couldn’t resist the opportunity to find out more about you,” he corrected tersely. “Honey, I’ve been told I’m closemouthed, but you could give even me lessons. I was curious, okay? I already knew I had been wrong about you, but I wanted to see what was in the report about your life. If that’s a crime, okay, sue me.”
Michele’s face felt stiff. “And just where did this stimulating information come from?”
Connor watched her closely as he answered slowly, “From a deputy in West Virginia.” He winced at the pain that showed briefly on her face before she turned away from him.
Michele was reeling from that information. She could well imagine the tale the deputy had shared. The story of how she and her mother had run away from Bill Strought was probably still being told from rocking chairs on porches all through town. But knowing that Connor knew about it made something inside her cringe.
She had never told another soul about that part of her life, and suddenly she realized that he was right about one thing. For a person who made her living getting other people to open up and share their experiences and feelings, she was remarkably reticent about her own.
“What’s worse?” She jumped as his voice sounded in her ear. She had been so wrapped in her own thoughts that she hadn’t been aware of his approach. “The fact that I read the rest of the report, or the fact that I learned about your life as a child? You’re a psychologist, Michele. You know that none of what happened was your fault. The man was a lunatic.”
“I know,” she whispered around the lump in her throat. “But that doesn’t make it easier to talk about.”
His arms came around her, pulling her back against his chest. “If you want to, I’m here,” he said quietly, surprising even himself. He wasn’t exactly a man who invited confidences, but he figured he could return the favor. The night he had walked into her apartment when she had awakened from her dream, he had talked himself hoarse calming her, at the same time telling her more about himself than he had told his ex-wife in months of dating.
She shook her head silently but leaned back into him. She felt drained of her earlier pain, empty now, but no less confused. She knew that she was on exceedingly shaky ground here. Ever since she had moved to Philadelphia with her mother, she had played it safe. No more risks for Michele Easton. The last one had nearly cost her life, and that had been a hard lesson learned.
Maybe it was time for her to go out on a limb again. God knew she felt more emotion in Connor’s presence than she had in years. While she was aware that this relationship would bring her nothing but heartache, she knew she was going to take the chance. She had lived in a cocoon for too long. “I don’t know what we’re doing together,” she whispered, but he heard her and turned her around to face him.
“Neither do I,” he admitted. “Gonna wait around and find out?”
“I’m sure this is not a good idea.”
“Probably not,” Connor agreed as he bent his head to her neck.
“I know I’ll regret this,” she murmured as she arched under his avid mouth.
“Likely we both will.” He nibbled his way up to her earlobe before taking it in his teeth and worrying it gently.
Michele felt her reservations fade further away at the feel of the muscled wall of his body pressing against hers. “This is police harassment,” she charged feebly.
“So call a cop, sweetheart,” he urged. His hand captured hers and pressed it against the hard ridge behind his zipper. “Dial 9-1-1. Make a cop come. You don’t even need a directory,” he added, as her fingers lingered to stroke gently. “Just let your fingers do the walking.”
Michele gasped as he took a love bite from her shoulder that made her jump, before laving it soothingly with his tongue. “You are unspeakably crude.”
“No, I’m unspeakably horny.”
Michele giggled breathlessly. “That too.”
Chapter 10
Connor turned Michele around in his arms and pulled her close again. Tipping her chin up with one finger he gazed at her soberly. “You’re sure that you want to go ahead with this?” he asked. “Because I’m not good at making promises. To be truthful, I don’t have the slightest idea where we’re going from here.”
Michele’s smile was slightly tinged with sadness. “Neither do I,” she answered. Her gaze was steady as she added, “But I am sure.” It was the only certainty in her life lately. She, too, couldn’t believe that pursuing a relationship with Connor would bring her anything but heartache in the long run. But it was time for her to stop playing it safe and rejoin the human race. And if that meant feeling pain as well as pleasure, we
ll, it would still mean she was experiencing more emotion than she had in years.
“We never got around to doing that grocery shopping,” she reminded him.
“Well, since I didn’t put the lock on your window, I guess I didn’t really earn that steak you promised me.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
Even she was unable to ignore the predatory light in his eyes. “Not for steak, Princess,” he whispered, before surprising a shriek from her by sweeping her up in his arms.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, laughing as he made his way toward her bedroom.
“If you can’t figure that out, lady, you’re even more naive than I thought,” he teased. He dropped her over her bed and followed her down on it immediately.
All humor fled from his face as he surveyed her from above. “You really are exquisite,” he murmured, one finger tracing her jawline.
“You’ve obviously been on the street too long, McLain,” she replied awkwardly.
He was amused at her obvious embarrassment but declined to answer. He concentrated instead on dropping kisses lightly over her face, her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks.
Michele was unaccustomed to allowing her natural wariness to recede completely, and now she reveled in the heightened pleasure her retreat from caution brought her. Connor’s firm mouth was infinitely tender as he leisurely brushed his lips against her skin. Slow heat bloomed low in her abdomen. As much as she enjoyed his slow technique, the memory of his harder, almost desperate, kisses teased her, and she wanted them even as she enjoyed his languorous arousal.
She caressed his nape, fingers tangling in the dark gold curls twining enticingly around her fingers. Her throat arched under his questing mouth, her breathing jerky at the nibbling kisses he placed there.
Simultaneously they grew impatient with the gentle wooing. Connor raised his head and looked down at her, feeling an immediate tightening in his groin at the sight of her sprawled beneath him. He waited for her eyes to flutter open before taking her mouth in a deep, searing kiss.
