Brushing the hair off her thighs, she shrugged. “He was hanging around the back door, so I started feeding him. He sneaked in one day and wouldn’t leave. I had to call him something.”
He studied her closely. “You must have spent a lot of time coming up with that name. How does Cat like it?”
“He likes it just fine, since it comes with food and a place to sleep. I should have called him Dog. Then you wouldn’t be looking at me as if I were some kind of freak.”
“I don’t think you’re a freak,” he said. “Just someone who’s ready to pick up and leave at a moment’s notice.”
She swung around to look at him, her heart beating against her ribs. “That’s an odd leap to make, just because you don’t like my cat’s name.”
“Not just his name. The rest of the place tells me all I need to know.”
“Really? After being in my house for fifteen minutes?” The beer bottle was slippery, and she set it carefully on the table. Wiped her hands on her pants.
“Took about five. Not hard to miss the signs. Bare-bones furnishings. No pictures or other personal stuff. Furniture that was really cheap and is easily abandoned.”
His gaze touched on everything in the living room. Assessing. Cataloging. Understanding.
“The apartment came furnished,” she said stiffly.
“You didn’t add anything of your own. No personal touches.”
“I didn’t realize you moonlighted as an interior decorator,” she said, trying to lighten things. To deflect his attention.
“Darcy, you didn’t even name the damn cat.” He leaned toward her, close enough that she could smell the beer on his breath, see the tiny lines around his eyes. “Does that mean you’re leaving him behind when you run?”
Her gaze darted toward the kitchen, where Cat’s food bowl clattered against the bottom of the cabinets. “It’s always a mistake to get attached.”
Patrick slid closer. His thigh was inches from hers, and his heat poured over her. “Tell me what’s going on, Darcy. What are you afraid of? Who are you afraid of?”
“Nothing.”
He leaned closer. “Who beat you? Who made you run? Who makes you carry pepper spray when you’re out jogging?”
“You’re making a lot of assumptions,” she said, facing him. He would not make her retreat. She’d done enough of that in her life.
“I know what I’m seeing. I know what this means.”
“Think what you want. You don’t know anything about me, Patrick.”
“You don’t think so?” Frustration and desire swirled together in his eyes, turning them a stormy, midnight blue. “I know a few things.”
“Like what?”
He leaned closer. “I know that one crooked tooth makes your smile unique. I know your eyes go unfocused when you’re aroused.” He drew one finger down the side of her face, and she shivered. “I know your heart races when I touch you.”
His mouth was inches from hers. “I know your skin heats when I kiss you. And I know you want me. Almost as much as I want you.”
“That’s...that’s...” She could barely draw air into her lungs. Her heart pistoned in her chest, her breasts swelled and her nipples rasped against her bra.
“You want to prove I’m wrong? Go ahead.”
She stared at him, unable to move. Barely able to breathe. His eyes darkened even more. He grabbed her shoulders and yanked her against him. “Damn it, Darcy!”
Then his mouth was on hers, kissing her as if he would die if he didn’t. Desire poured up from deep inside her, washing over her in a huge wave.
She slanted her lips over his and opened to him. He groaned into her mouth and his hands tightened on her. His grip was hard. Almost desperate, as if he was afraid she’d vanish if he didn’t hold tightly enough.
She moved her hands through his hair, the silky strands sliding through her fingers as she learned the shape of his skull. He cupped the back of her head with his palm, urging her closer.
Their mouths moved over each other, hot and greedy, desperate to get closer. He swept one hand down her back, lingered at her hip, shaped the curves of her rear. When he slid a finger beneath her waistband, she sucked in a breath.
Then she was sprawled on the couch, his thigh between her legs, his body half-covering hers. He jerked her shirt out of her waistband and shoved it up, and his hands covered her breasts. The fabric of her plain blue bra rubbed against her nipples, making her squirm against him.
He tore his mouth away from hers, ripped the bra open and drew her into his mouth. She arched against him with a tiny cry as sensation overwhelmed her. Consumed her.
With his mouth still on her breast, he fumbled at her waist, then shoved her pants past her hips. Cool air stroked over the skin of her lower abdomen, then he slid on top of her.
She froze. For a moment it was Tim, holding her down. Overpowering her. Punishing her.
No. It’s Patrick. Not Tim.
But the moment was gone. She turned her head and tried to push him away. His hands stilled. His head lifted. His eyes were dark. Wild with need. Glittering with desire.
Slowly, as if every inch of him hurt, he eased away. Rolled off the couch. Sat on the coffee table.
“Darcy.” He reached over and lowered her shirt over her exposed breasts. “I’m sorry. I scared you.”
She scrambled to sit up, fumbling to button her pants. “No.” Yes. “I was just... We were moving too fast.”
“Yeah.” He held out his hand and she hesitated for a moment. Then she placed her fingers in his. He pulled her to her feet. As soon as she was standing, he let her go.
“Darcy, I’m attracted to you. I want you.” He brushed his hand over her face, smoothed her hair. “I think you want me, too. But that’s no excuse for being so aggressive.” He leaned closer slowly, as if gauging her reaction. When she didn’t flinch or move away, he cupped her cheeks.
His thumb slid over her lips, as if he were memorizing their texture. The shape of her mouth. “I was frustrated,” he said, his voice low in the silent apartment. “Angry because you won’t tell me what’s going on. But I was wrong. Your story belongs to you. It’s yours to share, or not.”
His hands stilled on her face, then dropped to her shoulders. He held her softly, as if she was delicate. Fragile. Breakable.
She hated the feeling.
Hated that she’d let Tim make her feel that way.
“You okay alone?” he asked.
Deep inside, arousal still throbbed a heavy rhythm, but she nodded. Part of her wanted him to stay.
The part that didn’t care Patrick was an FBI agent. Didn’t care how dangerous he was.
But she’d learned her lesson a long time ago. You couldn’t have everything you wanted.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“DARCY?” HE BRUSHED her hair behind her ears. “You okay? Say something.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
She managed to smile. “It was a kiss, Patrick. That’s all. I’m not a shrinking virgin, scared by a kiss. It just got a little...out of hand.”
“My fault. I should have known to be careful.”
“Why?” Her temper stirred. “Because you think I’m damaged? That I’ve been traumatized by a man, so you have to walk on eggshells with me?”
Instead of saying something flip, he touched her chin. “I think you’re one of the strongest women I know. When you decide you’re ready, I won’t hold anything back, and neither will you. But you get to decide when that happens.”
“That was a hot kiss. I’ll grant you that.” It had set her on fire, and she was still uncomfortably aroused. “But it doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you.”
His eyes went all heavy-lidded again. “You want to.”
/> “Doesn’t matter. This can’t go anywhere. Your life’s in Detroit.” Her heart thudded heavily as he held her gaze. If he kept looking at her like that, they’d be in her bedroom in minutes.
“It would be a fun few weeks,” he said, his voice a low rasp.
Yeah, it would. But it was the kind of fun she couldn’t afford. “I’m not interested in flings.”
He shifted his stance, as if he was uncomfortable. “I didn’t think you were, but it was worth a try.” He smiled as he watched her. “And I’m not giving up.”
Her breath caught. “I’m pretty good at saying no.”
“I’ll do my best to change your mind.”
She found herself leaning toward him and straightened. She’d sworn she’d never rely on a man again. She would never allow herself to be exposed and vulnerable.
“You won’t be successful.”
“Can’t wait to prove you wrong.” He smiled and shrugged on his jacket, and she wrapped her arms around herself. His smile faded. “Are you sure you’re all right by yourself tonight? I’ll be happy to stay.”
“I’m sure you would,” she said dryly. “But I’ll be fine.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. If you don’t want to be alone, I’ll sleep on your couch.”
“It’s about a foot too short for you.”
“You think I care about that?”
He was serious. He would spend an uncomfortable night on her couch if she told him she was nervous being here alone, and the offer had nothing to do with trying to get her into bed.
He wanted her to feel safe.
He was even more dangerous than she’d thought.
“Thank you, Patrick.” She reached up to kiss his cheek. “That’s the nicest offer anyone’s made in a long time. But I’ll be fine. And Nathan needs you.”
“I’d forgotten about Nate.” He grasped her arms and pulled her closer. “You could stay at his house.”
“I’m good. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”
“Right.” His hands tightened on her arms, then he let her go. “Check all the locks and windows after I leave.”
“I always do.”
She closed the door behind him, but he stood on the porch until she locked the door.
Without thinking, she headed for the living room and bent one slat of the window blind. Patrick emerged from the side of the house and paused before he got into his car.
He looked up, and even from a distance she saw him smile when he caught her watching.
After he drove away, a flicker of a shadow caught her eye. It came from a car parked in front of her neighbor’s house. Almost as if someone was in the front seat.
She pressed the slat of the blind down farther and stared at the car. Dark sedan. Empty.
She turned off all the lights in her apartment and returned to the window.
The car was gone.
* * *
DARCY STUMBLED DOWN the stairs at eight the next morning, wearing her running shorts, leggings and a tight-fitting jacket. She’d barely slept the night before, and had been tempted to roll over and go back to sleep when the alarm went off. But a run would clear her head. And she always thought better while she pounded the pavement. There was something about the repetitive movements that kicked her brain into gear.
She didn’t look at the traces of mud on the steps. She didn’t want to think about that. Because thinking about an intruder on her porch would lead to remembering what had happened last night with Patrick.
As well as the car that had driven off after he’d left.
Her mind had leaped from one to the other. An unbroken loop.
The car would be a low-level worry, always there in the back of her mind. Patrick? She didn’t want to think about him until she had to face him at work this afternoon.
It was Saturday. They’d be busy tonight. At least she wouldn’t have time to moon over him.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she bent at the waist to stretch her legs one last time, then jogged out to the street. The gray sky pressed down and the wind rattled the last leaves on the trees that lined the street. As she reached into her pocket and pulled out a hat, she scanned the block for the dark car she’d seen last night.
It wasn’t there.
No one had been hiding there, watching her. Someone had gotten in the car, bent over to retrieve something from the floor, then driven away.
She’d just been nervous after her tires were slashed.
But she would keep her eyes open.
As she stepped onto the asphalt, she heard a car door slam behind her. Damn it! She’d been so tired she hadn’t noticed someone sitting in a car. She closed her fingers around the pepper spray, then glanced over her shoulder, slowing to a stop at the sight of Patrick jogging toward her.
He wore running tights covered by a pair of baggy nylon shorts, a jacket similar to hers and sunglasses.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“I figured you’d go for a run this morning.” He stopped next to her. “Thought you might like some company.”
“Why?”
“Last night? When you were freaked out about the car tires and the mud on your porch? I know you haven’t forgotten.”
“Of course I haven’t. But I’m prepared.” She tapped the pepper spray back into her pocket. “How long have you been waiting for me?”
He shrugged. “Not too long. Brought the paper and some coffee, so it was like sitting at home.”
She scowled. It was either that or kiss him. “Don’t you have better things to do than read your newspaper outside of my apartment?”
“Nope.”
“You left Nathan alone?”
“Sound asleep.”
“Well, I’m good. So you can go home.”
“You kidding me? I’m running.” He started to jog, then looked over his shoulder. “You coming?”
She should be running, too. In the opposite direction. But instead of telling him to get lost, she began moving. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to jog with her. She’d be snarky and ungrateful if she refused.
The view wasn’t bad, either. His leg muscles bunched and released in the running tights. The baggy shorts clung to his ass when the wind whipped around the corner. His stride was long and effortless, as if he could run for hours.
He glanced over his shoulder and slowed. “Am I going too fast for you?”
He was moving at the speed of light. She’d barely managed to crawl. “I’m getting warmed up. I’ll catch you in a minute.”
He smiled at her, and her heart fluttered. It must have shown on her face, because she recognized that bedroom-eyes expression. “You better watch where you’re going,” she managed to say. “Sewer grate ahead.”
He jerked his head around. She took one more look at the view from the rear, then caught up with him. “Kind of gloomy for sunglasses.”
“Had a few more beers when I got home.” He glanced at her, and her cheeks burned. Yeah, he was going way too fast for her.
They ran another block in silence, and her muscles stretched out. She inhaled the cold air, fragrant with the scent of smoke and the last flowers of the season. It was kind of nice having company while she ran.
“You jog every day?” he asked.
“Pretty much.” It was the best way to keep an eye on the neighborhood. “How about you?”
“Every day I don’t box.”
“Why boxing? That’s a violent sport.”
She felt him glance at her, but she didn’t look at him. Finally he said, “I started in high school. Not long after my parents were killed. It helped me deal with...a lot of stuff. Now it’s part of my routine. And it comes in handy once in a while.”
A shiver rolled down
her spine. “Like when?”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. They reached the tunnel and kept going. He must have remembered that she didn’t like to run through it. Finally, when they were past it, he said, “I’ve never punched anyone outside the ring. But every once in a while, someone I’m arresting takes a swing at me. Knowing the defensive moves helps.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I have a job that can be violent, but I’m not a violent man,” he said quietly. “In case you were wondering.”
She wondered a lot of things about Patrick—how he’d figured out so much about her.
How his body would feel against hers.
“I don’t think you’re violent, Patrick.” But a part of her was wary. He was the first man who’d sparked her interest since she’d fled her marriage. Naturally she was a little nervous.
“You should be wondering,” he said, surprising her. “You don’t know that much about me.”
“I know your brothers. Your sister, too, a little. I’ve worked with them for three years.” She speeded up. “It’s irrelevant, though. We’re not in a relationship.”
“Aren’t we?”
“Two kisses, no matter how hot they were, doesn’t make a relationship.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not saying they were nice.”
She remembered telling him after the first kiss that it had been nice, but nothing spectacular. She bit her lip to hide a smile. “Did that hurt your feelings?”
“Pissed me off, is what it did.”
“Is that what last night was about? Trying to prove me wrong?”
“No. It was about wanting you. And don’t get all smug, but you kept me awake all night.”
“Guess you shouldn’t have kissed me, then.” Flirting? Really?
“Don’t worry. I’ve learned my lesson.”
“Good. That’s good.” Deflated, more disappointed than she should be, she glanced over at him. Big mistake. He was grinning.
“Next time, I’ll go slow. So slow you’ll be begging.”
“In your dreams.” Smiling, she began to sprint. They were four blocks from her apartment. Her heart was going much faster than it should have been, and she needed time to settle herself.
The Woman He Knows Page 13
