To Love, Honor and Defend

by Beth Cornelison

  Cal, who had abandoned her to marry another woman.

  She drew a sharp breath and pulled away. “Stop. You…you promised not to…”

  He groaned and rocked back into the driver’s seat. He planted his hands on the steering wheel and squeezed. “Damn it, Libby. We both know your hands-off rule is for the birds. You want this—” he waved a hand between them “—you need this as much as I do.”

  He dragged his finger across her lip, and she knocked his hand away.

  “What I need is some sleep and to put this night, this whole day, behind me. Take me home, Cal.”

  He blew a slow breath through his teeth while he rolled his shoulders. “Don’t pretend that anything is settled between us, Libby.” He sent her a no-nonsense look that drilled to her core. “We will make love again. It’s just a matter of time.”

  She hugged herself as a fresh shiver raced through her. Once again, she knew he was right. Too much energy sparked around them, too many memories of the heat and electricity they’d shared lay between them to be ignored.

  So why did she fight it?

  “And we aren’t through talking about your stalker. I want to know everything. I want to see the letters. I want to know what you’ve told the police.” He put the truck in gear and pulled back onto the road. “I’m your husband, Lib. I have to know exactly what we’re up against if I’m going to protect you from this maniac. No more soft-selling this situation to me.”

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mind, her heart, had snagged on the word husband. A bittersweet wish that he could truly be her husband, in every way the term implied, nestled deep in her heart. But their marriage wasn’t real. Not in the way that mattered. Tonight they’d crossed a line in their relationship, touched raw emotions and forged an intimacy deeper than sex alone could ever build. Having a glimpse of that soul-deep connection, a peek at that communion of kindred spirits, filled her with a lonely ache. This pain, this longing, was exactly what she had to guard against, or she’d end up devastated when her usefulness to Cal ended.

  Cal might protect her from her stalker, but how did she protect herself from Cal?

  How the hell was he supposed to protect Libby from her stalker?

  Sitting on the edge of Libby’s sofa, Cal yanked off a boot and let it drop to the floor. As he stripped down to his boxers, he listened to the sounds from the bathroom, where Libby was getting ready for bed. The water running, the tap of her toothbrush on the sink. The thunk and rattle of mysterious jars of cold cream and other sweet-smelling ointments that had teased his senses during their heart-stopping kiss in his truck.

  His body tightened another painful degree. He’d been in a perpetual state of arousal, well beyond wanting her, since the moment their lips touched. He ached.

  And not just physically, although his bodily discomfort had reached new levels in the past few hours. He ached mentally, spiritually. He needed her. She challenged and completed him in a way no other woman ever had.

  He grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and squeezed, wishing he could get his hands on her stalker instead. Knowing that some goon wanted to kill her was driving him crazy. Why had he accepted Libby’s evaluation of the stalker’s threat? He should have taken the situation far more seriously from the beginning, taken more drastic steps to safeguard his wife. And his daughter.

  Hell. Maybe Libby had tried to impress upon him the danger they could be in and he’d refused to listen, hadn’t been able to see beyond his desperate desire to get Ally out of the immediate dangers at Renee’s.

  Hadn’t he learned anything from his failure with his mom? Guilt raked through him with sharp tines. If anything happened to Libby because he’d dropped the ball again, he’d never forgive himself.

  The light in the hall flicked on, and he listened to the whisper of silky fabric as Libby walked into the kitchen. Shoving up from the couch, he met her by the cabinet, where she was fixing Jewel a midnight snack. He allowed himself to drink in the sight of her satiny pink robe, savoring the way it molded to every feminine curve and hugged the body he’d explored in the dark elevator.

  She angled a glance in his direction, and he heard her breath snag when she took in his dishabille. He remembered that sexy hitch in her breath from their stolen time on the elevator, from days long gone when no rescue squad had interrupted. From nights when he’d made her moan and call his name. Desire hummed through his veins like the buzz of the florescent light over the sink.

  Her tired sigh prodded him from his sensual perusal.

  “You all right?”

  The vulnerability shadowing her bedroom-brown eyes punched him in the gut. “I’m fine.”

  But when had Libby ever admitted she needed anyone else? Damn her stubborn independence.

  She crossed the kitchen to set Jewel’s bowl on the floor. When she bent over, her robe gaped open, and he glimpsed the curve of her breast.

  Gritting his teeth, Cal opened the refrigerator and stood in the sobering chill of the cold air. After a moment, he grabbed a bottle of beer. He needed something to steady his jumping nerves and cool his overheated blood. Twisting off the cap, he sucked down a large gulp while he watched her. “Your head’s okay?”

  “Nothing a few aspirin didn’t handle.” She crouched and stroked Jewel’s sleek fur while the feline ate. Libby’s chestnut hair shimmered with gold and red highlights, and his fingers itched to plow through the silky veil the same way she ran her hand over her cat.

  “Did you want something?” she asked without looking up.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  Liar. What he wanted was to bury himself in Libby’s body and stake his claim to her. He wanted to slay the dragons that haunted her, defend her from the invisible enemy that threatened her life and her happiness. Given the chance, he’d gladly rip out Jimmy-the-boyfriend’s lungs with his bare hands for having locked a young Libby in the closet.

  She wouldn’t appreciate his caveman mentality, but he couldn’t help the possessive, protective instincts that flared to life when he was around her. If his failure to protect his mother had taught him nothing else, he’d learned to guard those he loved from danger, no matter the cost.

  He’d do anything, anything, to protect Libby from her stalker. The very idea that someone could harm her filled him with cold terror, blazing fury.

  But who was this creep? Where was the threat coming from? And how did he fight an invisible enemy?

  “I want to see the letters. The ones from your stalker.” He took another swig of beer to cool the bite of acid gnawing inside him.

  “I don’t have them anymore. I gave them to the police.” She looked up now, and her gaze went to the bottle in his hand. “Isn’t alcohol a violation of your parole?”

  “I—” Her question caught him off guard, and he hesitated. Huffed. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  “Rules are rules, Cal.” She stood and marched over to him. “No alcohol.” She took the bottle from his hand and carried it to the sink. With a flip of her wrist, she dumped the contents down the drain.

  He groaned and rubbed his thumb along the scar on his chin. “I didn’t even think about it. I needed a drink tonight and—”

  “Well, you’d better think next time. You could go back to prison for violating parole.”

  He tensed.

  Cal studied her through narrowed eyes while the kitchen clock ticked like the kicking of his heart. “Who’s gonna know? Are you going to turn me in, Libby? For one beer?”

  Even as he taunted her with what should have been a ludicrous proposition, a chill snaked through him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to his question.

  Cal’s thoughts spun, his emotions tangling, and he drew a steadying breath. “You know the kind of night we’ve had. I figure I’m entitled to at least one beer.”

  She chucked the empty bottle in the recycling bin and faced him with a scowl. “Entitled? What, you don’t think the law applies to you? That you’re somehow above it?”

&
nbsp; “I didn’t say that.” He fought down the swell of frustration squeezing his chest. “Geez, I don’t want to argue with you tonight.”

  Yanking open the refrigerator, he grabbed the rest of her six-pack from the shelf. “Here. Pour them all out if you don’t trust me.” He shoved them toward her. “Yeah, I forgot the rules tonight, because I’m not used to answering to anyone else when I want a beer. But I have no intention of going back to jail, so…here. Be my guest.”

  When she didn’t move, he thumped them down on the counter.

  Libby’s chin trembled, and her eyes softened. “I don’t want to argue, either.”

  When she bit her bottom lip, the desire to nibble her lush mouth himself slammed into him. He fisted his hands to keep from reaching for her and devouring her.

  Sighing, she plucked the first of the bottles from the carton and twisted off the cap. “You have to be more careful, Cal. If you break your parole…” She emptied the beer into the sink and shook her head. “I’m an officer of the court. I swore an oath to uphold the law. The letter of the law.”

  An uneasy quiver started in his gut as he watched her pour out another beer. Every bottle she emptied cut deeper into his soul. She didn’t trust him. Nothing had changed. Not for Libby, at least.

  But everything had changed for him. His priorities. His goals. His understanding of what Libby meant to his future.

  He wanted Libby in his life. Permanently. But how could he build a future with a woman who didn’t trust him?

  A woman he couldn’t trust not to put her devotion to rules over her own husband.

  He watched her uncap another bottle, and his frustration boiled over. Grabbing the beer from her hand, he growled, “Damn it, Libby! Stop! Aren’t you listening? Don’t you get it?”

  Her eyes blazed, challenging him. “Get what?”

  “Nothing is more important to me than meeting the terms of my parole.” He seized her shoulders and drilled her with a hard gaze. “I have to stay out of prison, and I have to clear my name, because I have to be there for Ally.” The desperateness of Ally’s situation, of his own situation, rolled through him, stringing him tighter. “I want to see my daughter grow up. I want her to feel safe and be happy. I will not do anything to throw away my chance to make that happen.” The taste of beer in his mouth grew bitter. How could he have been so careless? He had too much at stake to blow this chance….

  He sucked in a deep, calming breath. “Believe whatever else you want to about me, but don’t doubt that much.”

  Emotions swirled in her dark eyes, but her gaze didn’t falter. “I do believe you.”

  He relaxed his grip and nudged her forward. She came willingly, leaning against his chest and stirring his protective instincts anew. “Then also believe this—I want to be there for you, too. We had something special once, and I want it back. I want you beside me at night. I want to hold you and make love to you and know that you are safe.”

  He felt her tremble, and he squeezed her tighter.

  “Cal, I—” She hesitated then sighed, her breath a warm caress against his bare skin.

  His body vibrated with need.

  Flattening her palms on his chest, she pushed away, stepped back. “I can’t. I—” When her voice cracked, she wrapped her arms around herself and took a deep breath. “There’s too much history between us. I can’t do it again. I can’t let myself…”

  Shaking her head, she spun away and hurried toward the hall.

  Disappointment sliced through him. “Libby, wait! You can’t let yourself do what?”

  She didn’t answer immediately, but when she did, the raw honesty in her eyes shook him to the core. “Love you.”

  Cal rocked back on his heels, caught the edge of the counter for support.

  “I loved you once,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, choked with emotion. “With my whole heart. And you threw it away.” She paused, glanced down at her hands, where she twisted her wedding ring. “Looking back, I realize I probably loved you too much. I let my love for you rule everything I thought and did. I gave up so much control, putting my heart in your hands, and I paid the price. I got hurt. Deeply. But I learned a valuable lesson, and I won’t let myself get hurt again.”

  He stepped toward her, needing to close the distance between them any way he could. “You mean you won’t let yourself love again.”

  “Aren’t they the same thing?”

  A fist of regret clutched his throat. How had something as right as the love they’d had gone so horribly wrong?

  He took another step, stretched his hand toward her. “Even the legal system was willing to parole me, give me a second chance. Why can’t you?”

  The pain in her eyes coalesced in a fat tear that dripped onto her cheek. She dashed at it with an angry swipe before she bolted from the kitchen.

  Her lack of response spoke volumes. But so did that one tear, a tear that said she did care, whether she wanted to or not. A tear that gave him a flicker of hope.

  One way or another, he’d kick down the walls she’d built and find the embers of the love he knew she harbored somewhere deep inside.

  The next night in her kickboxing class, Libby bumped her gloved hands together and danced a boxer’s shuffle, brimming with energy and ready to let loose.

  “Talk about a stress reliever!” The class instructor bounced on her toes as she addressed the class. “Picture the face of that someone who has really been getting on your nerves this week, and let ’em have it!”

  Though her muscles were still rather sore from the elevator crash, Libby needed the physical outlet for her pent-up frustrations more than ever. She’d spent the whole day at the office seeing the desire that had burned in Cal’s eyes when he’d kissed her in his truck. She heard the sexy rasp of his voice echo in her mind and felt his gentle touch in the subtlest breeze. Just when her body was quivering with sexual tension, a different memory of Cal would zing through her mind.

  Even the legal system was willing to parole me, give me a second chance. Why can’t you? The raw emotion in his voice. The tender appeal in his eyes. The way he’d reached for her…

  She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Her senses were on overload, ready for meltdown. She had to get a grip on her runaway emotions before she found herself in deep trouble. Before she embarrassed herself at work. Before she did something foolish at home. Like go to bed with Cal.

  Fast-paced music blared into the exercise room, and Libby pushed away images of burning calories with Cal in sweaty, frenetic sex. She stared at the punching bag in front of her and tried to picture Cal’s face, one of his smug, self-satisfied grins.

  She jabbed at the mental image a few times, but it didn’t feel right. She wasn’t mad at Cal. He might be the source of a great deal of her stress, but she didn’t want to punch him.

  And that was her problem. She wanted to touch him with the same loving caresses he’d shown her last night. In the elevator. In his truck. She wanted to strip him naked and feel the hard planes and sinewy strength of his body moving against hers.

  A throbbing pulse sparked low in her abdomen, and Libby swung harder at the bag.

  She wanted the fiery heat of Cal’s lips clashing with hers, tugging her nipples and nibbling the sensitive spot behind her ear.

  Libby swallowed a moan and lashed out at her imaginary opponent with a roundhouse kick and a series of uppercuts. Still her body vibrated with repressed need and erotic urges.

  Dropping her arms to her sides and shaking out the tension in her muscles, Libby refocused her thoughts, her energy. So if she didn’t want to punch Cal, who did she want to hit?

  Her stalker sprang immediately to mind. The creep who’d put her life in a tailspin. The jerk who’d tried to kill her yesterday by sabotaging the elevator and who could have hurt Cal in the process. A spike of fury rolled through her, and she swung again at the punching bag. Pow!

  What if her stalker went after Cal as a means to terrorize her? A foreboding chill slithered thr
ough her, and she unleashed a flurry of jabs. Pow, pow, pow!

  What would she do if something happened to Cal because of her? Her gut knotted, and she channeled the surge of fear into a fierce right hook. Ka-pow!

  Adrenaline fueled her assault as she battered the bag with a jab and an uppercut, followed by a swift snap kick. Sweat streamed down her cheeks and trickled between her breasts as she poured her fears and frustrations, her anger and agitation, into her workout.

  Picture the face of that someone who has really been getting on your nerves this week. But she had no face to go with her stalker. Only the disembodied hiss of warning—I’m going to get you, bitch!—and the threatening blue notes.

  Right, left, right. The impact of her blows radiated up her arms and reverberated through her body. With a shuffling bounce on her toes, Libby glared at the center of her punching bag, remembering the notepad that had been planted in Cal’s moving box. Pow, pow, pow!

  Her stalker didn’t care who else he snared in his trap, may have even targeted Cal for suspicion, for elimination.

  A pain that had nothing to do with sore muscles twisted inside her. She’d only just gotten Cal back in her life. How could she survive losing him again? And how did she live with herself if she lost him because of her own doing, because she’d brought the stalker’s menace into his life?

  The chilling thought stilled her workout. She stared sightlessly into the mirror on the exercise room wall. Panic swelled in her chest, working its way up to her throat. She wrapped her arms around herself, her gloved hands clumsily chafing the cold that prickled her skin. Closing her eyes, she let herself step into Cal’s welcoming embrace. She burrowed deep into the pine-and-sex scent that clung to his skin and took refuge in his encompassing warmth.

  You mean you won’t let yourself love again.

  With a sigh of defeat, she unlaced her gloves and shucked them off. Kickboxing couldn’t relieve the stress winding her tight, the fear scrambling inside her. Exercise couldn’t ease the achy need thrumming through her veins.