by Linda Kage
"Willow, damn it!" The first guy—Kit—called from the machine. "I'm starving. Where are you?"
As Willow pushed delete, the phone rang. Raith sighed; she speared him with a look, telling him to hold his horses.
"Oh, hey, Mom," she said after answering. "Yes, I got your message. But I just walked in the door, so—what's that... oh, okay... uh huh... Sure, I can manage." She opened a nearby drawer and pulled out a pen and pad of paper.
When she began jotting down notes, Raith threw his hands in the air and turned away. To keep himself occupied, he wandered through the front room, reexamining all the knickknacks. When he got to one—a small bronze figurine of a man with a little girl on his lap—he lifted it to study the amazing detail. His host was close enough, however, that she snapped it out of his hand and gave him a dirty look before setting the statuette back where it belonged, all while answering her mother's questions without missing a beat.
Raith shoved his hands in his pockets. He glanced around for something else to absorb his time, until he heard a noise from the rear of DeVane's house. It sounded like someone had just come in the back door.
He glanced toward her, but she didn't act as if she had heard anything. Suspicious, Raith decided to check things out. He crept down a short hall and came to a doorway that led into a bright kitchen. Pausing, he watched some guy lean over the opened fridge and fish around inside.
The guest whistled as he browsed. When he straightened, he held a leftover food container tucked under his arm. Raith scowled as the new arrival shut the door and turned. The man jerked to a halt when their gazes met.
Ignoring the deputy's intimidating glower, the stranger grinned in welcome. "Hey, man. How's it going? Want some lasagna?" He lifted the container.
Raith blinked.
"There's plenty here," the slim, tall blond offered. "And let me tell you, Will makes orgasmic Italian. You don't just eat it, you moan your way through it."
Not sure how to answer, Raith shrugged. He hadn't eaten yet. And if this fellow was comfortable enough to steal food from "Will's" fridge and offer her leftovers to an unidentified guest then Raith didn't feel so bad about accepting. "Can't see how I can turn down orgasmic food."
The blond grinned. "Right on." He popped the whole tub into the microwave. As it nuked, the newcomer pulled plates and silverware from drawers and cabinets, making himself right at home.
Raith sat on a stool at the bar and watched the other man move knowingly through DeVane's kitchen. It was the oddest thing. The guy didn't seem jealous of Raith at all. Hell, he didn't even question Raith's presence.
"Want anything to drink?" he asked. "Will always has those pansy malt liquors around, but I might be able to dig us up some real beer if you'd like."
"No, I'm fine. She gave me a bottle of water."
The newcomer paused and cocked Raith an odd look. "Water?" He made a face. "Water's for taking a bath. Not drinking."
Willow finally found them, floating into the room with that seductive, hip-swaying stroll of hers. She pulled to a stop when she saw the added company. "What're you doing here?"
The blond rolled his eyes. "Do you never check your phone messages, woman? I left you, like, twenty. My wife's out of town. I need food."
Raith went still. So this was Kit from the answering machine. He looked like the pretty boy sort DeVane would go for. And no wonder why he didn't act jealous. He already had a wife. Why should Willow entertaining a man alone in her home bother him? He couldn't expect her to remain faithful when he was already unfaithful himself.
"So how did it suddenly become my responsibility to feed you just because Tina's away?" Willow asked. An annoyed line deepened between her sculpted eyebrows.
"Well..." Kit stalled. He spoke slowly as if addressing an infantile idiot. "Allison's working late, my mom's with Tina, your mom went out to eat, and Camille was planning on heating up leftovers. So, I figured, if I was going to have leftover food, then I wanted your leftover lasagna."
"And how did you know I had leftover lasagna sitting in my refrigerator?" DeVane demanded, folding her arms over her chest.
Raith thought that was a damn good question.
Kit sighed. "Because Camy told me that's what she ate over here a few days ago. And when you make Italian, you always make enough to feed an entire army, so I figured it was a safe bet you'd still have some around."
DeVane rolled her eyes and opened the microwave door when the timer went off. She glanced at the food inside and then noticed three plates sitting out, waiting to be filled.
"What?" she asked Kit. "You're feeding him too?"
Kit blinked. "Why not? Weren't you going to, anyway? I mean, the man's probably going to work up quite an appetite. He needs some kind of sustenance to get him through the night."
"How did you know—" Willow started, looking confused. But the double meaning behind Kit's words finally struck her. She gasped and smacked the man on the arm.
"Ouch." He glared, rubbing the pummeled spot. "What'd you do that for?"
"That's not why he's here," she said through clenched teeth, motioning blindly toward Raith. "Work up an appetite," she muttered, and then her face grew red with anger all over again. She smacked Kit once more on the side of the arm in the exact spot she had hit him the first time.
"Hey." He scuttled away from her. "Cut that out."
She fisted her hands on her hips. "How dare you suggest such a thing?"
"Geesh, sorry." Kit eyed her warily as he continued to rub his stinging arm. "It was an honest mistake. The guy was in your kitchen, and he looked like your type. What was I supposed to think?"
"He is not my type!" Raith thought she spoke with a little too much
force. She turned to him and insisted, "You're not my type."
He raised his eyebrows, intrigued by her overreaction. "Never thought I was."
She didn't reply for a moment, staring at him with the most fetching expression, as if contemplating the idea of him being present for the very activity Kit had suggested. She looked fascinated for a second, as if she had never seen anything as tempting as him. It shocked the hell out of him, but not quite as much as it made his body go hot. He wanted to reach for her and put his hands all over her.
But damn. If Willow DeVane wanted him the same way he wanted her, things could get dangerous.
Then she blinked rapidly as if she was pushing the sensation to the back of her mind. She whirled around and scowled at Kit while he piled steaming lasagna onto his plate.
"Don't you dare feed him," she warned. "He's not here to eat."
Kit blinked in confusion. Then he grinned mischievously and plopped a healthy-sized portion onto the second plate, making Raith chuckle. Reaching past her, the blond disobediently handed the filled plate to him.
Raith accepted it, always willing to get a rise out of the hot lawyer. As she whirled back to give him a dirty look, silently commanding him not to eat her food, he stared her right in the eye and lifted the fork, then shoved a heaping pile of lasagna into his mouth.
Kit hooted in approval. "Oh, I like him," he praised, nudging Willow's elbow. "Even if you claim he's not your newest plaything."
Willow smacked Kit yet again on the arm. "Deputy Malloy is not my anything. He's merely here to—" Glancing from Kit back to Raith, she broke off her explanation. Coughing delicately, she quickly changed her story. "I mean, yes, he's my newest plaything."
Raith choked on a lasagna noodle. Kit paused with his fork half way to his mouth and glanced from a coughing Raith to the glaring Willow. "Deputy?" he repeated. "How interesting." He reached across the bar to smack Raith on the back, immediately clearing his air passage, and then held out a hand. "Kit Fletcher," he introduced himself. "I'm Willow's favorite cousin."
DeVane snorted. "Most annoying cousin more like."
Raith took his hand, irritated by the relief he experienced discovering Kit wasn't one of her old playthings. "Raith Malloy."
Willow blinked. "Wait. What'd
you say your first name was?"
Raith scowled. "Are you telling me you've known me for I don't know how many years," he lied, knowing exactly how long he had known her, "and you don't know my name?"
It stung. He knew everything he could discover about her. Soon after meeting her, he'd looked her up in the system. Willow Grace DeVane, born on November fourth, had a clean record. Ten years his junior, she'd been raised in Dexter County her entire life and left for only a few years to attend college at Duke. She'd gone through school faster than most law students and passed her bar at age twenty-seven. Now, at twenty-nine, she was a successful solicitor who usually only took divorce cases.
The woman at least had the decency to blush. "I've only ever heard anyone call you Malloy," she defended. Then she frowned and asked, "Did you say Rafe?"
He shook his head. "No. It's Raith, with a T-H not an F."
DeVane stared a moment longer, looking transfixed. "Raith," she repeated quietly. "Well, that's a fascinating name."
Raith took pleasure in the way a half-smile lit her face as she studied him, as if she'd completely forgotten they were archenemies. But she seemed to realize she'd been staring far too long, because she quickly twisted away and switched her attention to Kit, frowning at him as if her lapse in memory was his fault.
"Been breaking the law again, cousin dearest?" Kit asked as he forked up a mouthful of lasagna.
She sniffed, but Raith answered the man before she could. "I'm here to show her some self-defense moves."
As she turned to narrow her eyes at him, he shoved more food into his own pie hole. Damn, the woman really could cook orgasmic Italian. The only thing that could make her lasagna taste better would be covering her naked body with the meal and licking all the flavors off.
"Why you doin' that?" Kit muffled between bites, interrupting Raith's delicious thoughts. "She get mugged or something?"
"No!" Willow snapped, and sent a pointed look Raith's way, silently commanding him to keep quiet. "I did not get mugged."
Ignoring her wordless warning, Raith leaned past her. "She was attacked by one of her clients at the jail yesterday."
Kit immediately stopped eating. "She what?" He whirled toward DeVane. "What happened? Did you get hurt? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Willow said just as Raith added, "He gave her a nasty bump on the forehead."
Kit immediately reached over and flipped up her bangs to see the dark bruise stretching over her right eyebrow. "Holy hell!" he burst out, pinning her with a disapproving grimace. "Damn it, Willow. Why didn't you tell anyone?"
Willow glanced over at Raith and blasted him with a killer glare. "Thanks a lot, Malloy. Now, every freaking member of my family's going to call, worried and upset."
"Good," Raith shot back. "Maybe they can lecture some sense into that hard head of yours."
"How did this guy get close to you?" Kit butted in, reaching for her hair to get another look at the bruise, only to have her to push his hand away and hiss at him.
"She provoked him," Raith explained. "Right after he'd been arrested for trying to kill his wife."
"Willow!" Kit barked, his face soaking red with anger.
Willow sighed and turned to Raith. "Will you shut up and stay out of my family business? No... better yet, just get out of my house altogether."
"Wait a second here," Kit stepped in. "If he's supposed to teach you to defend yourself, then he's damn well staying."
Willow spun to Kit. "And you can go too," she added through gritted teeth.
Kit merely smiled and patted her cheek. "Yes, I love you too, cuz. Now, into the living room with you. You're going to learn some selfdefense."
Willow resisted his tugging hand on her arm. Her gaze met Raith's.
He shrugged and sent her a challenging look. "If you want to chicken out," he dared, "I'm not going to stop you."
Her eyes frosted, and Raith realized he had never been so attracted to her before. She moved threateningly closer, and he held his breath, anxious for her next biting words.
"You better eat as much as you can," she snarled in a low voice, glancing at the half-cleared plate in his hands. "Because you're going to need all the energy you can get before I'm done with you tonight."
Raith tried not to picture all the delectable fantasies his mind conjured at her unintentionally erotic suggestion, but he failed.
"Be in the living room in ten minutes," she finished. "Or I'm starting without you." Then, spinning on her heel, she ignored her cousin and marched from the kitchen.
He watched her swaying backside and wondered why he heard a sexual innuendo in every phrase she spoke. Swallowing whatever food was in his mouth, he left his plate on the counter and followed her, eager to get his hands on her ripe body.
Four
Willow had to admit she was grateful for her cousin's lingering presence once the three of them moved their party into the living room. She really did want Deputy "Raith" Malloy to scram, but she couldn't back out of their training session and look like the coward if he seemed perfectly willing to proceed.
No way was she going to let him know how much he affected her. Biting the inside of her lip, she swallowed back a dreamy little sigh of pleasure and glanced at his body as he spoke, droning on about never showing her back to a potential threat.
He looked good. The simple black t-shirt he wore fit him snugly, outlining two defined pectorals and a load of muscles on his upper arms and lower abs. The top matched his plain blue jeans to perfection, and she wanted to sigh all over again.
God, he was gorgeous.
It wasn't just his body that enthralled her, either. He had a very arresting face to go with his killer physique. Thick, stubby lashes framed a pair of dark blue—almost navy—eyes. His cheekbones and jaw were angular, complimenting his dark eyebrows and slightly-bent nose to make him look devastatingly rugged and male.
She'd heard somewhere that women never had an immediate physical attraction toward a man. According to the professionals, a woman looked at a man's mind first and then checked out his physical appearance once she fell for his personality.
Willow had to think that nonsense was a bunch of hogwash. Malloy was hot and that's all there was to him. He sported a bad attitude, and his personality sucked. He rubbed her the wrong way every freaking time she ran across him. But, boy, was there some sizzling steam rolling off the friction between them.
Well, okay, so he was smart—or maybe smartass was a better term. She had to admire his brain to an extent because he always knew exactly what he could say to irritate her the most. And she knew he did it on purpose. The man loved to get on her last nerve. Still, that shouldn't endear him to her in any way. Yet, whenever he was near, she couldn't seem to focus on anything but him. Ergo, she concluded it had to be his body—and his body alone—that attracted her so strongly.
Just look at him though. He put the saliva in sexy.
"Can you try that out on her?" Kit said, breaking into her straying thoughts. "I want to see how it works."
Both Willow and Malloy glanced over to give him similar looks of horror. From where he sat on the armrest of her couch, her cousin sent them both an innocent smile. "What? I just want to show Tina a couple of moves when she gets home."
Willow had no idea what the deputy had been explaining, because she had been too busy trying not to ogle him and wondering what kind of cologne he wore. It was intoxicating, whatever it was.
"Well," Kit urged, motioning toward her as he sent Malloy an expectant look. "Let's see some action. She can't learn unless you go through each step manually."
Malloy turned to her and sketched an eyebrow. "Ready?"
She took an immediate step back, her eyes popping wide. "Wait. What?"
"God, DeVane." He dropped his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. "Haven't you been listening to a word I've said?"
"No, not really," she smart-mouthed back. "All I heard was a bunch of blah, blah, blah."
He let out a long sigh through his
nostrils; she could tell he gritted his teeth inside his closed mouth. "Why don't I just show you how the move works," he suggested. "You come at me, and I'll demonstrate the counteraction."
"Come at you?" she repeated in confusion.
"Try to attack me," he clarified and curled his index finger in invitation.
She blinked. "You want me to, like, hit you?"
Malloy sent her a grin. "I want you to, like, try to hit me, DeVane. You won't actually lay a finger on me."
Oh, that did it. He needed to be pounded down a peg or two. Why, an innocent bystander might trip over his inflated ego if they got too close to the conceited deputy.
