Stolen Seduction

by Elisabeth Naughton

  The song came to an end, and she paused to catch her breath. Her creamy skin glistened under the gym’s fluorescent lights. Her chest rose and fell, accentuating those perky breasts. And as his eyes drifted lower, he got a full-on visual of toned abs and a body she kept in tip-top shape.

  He swallowed hard. Remembered what she’d looked like in shorts and a tank back in Florida. He’d thanked his lucky stars then he hadn’t seen her in a bikini, but now couldn’t stop visualizing that body in something with strings and side ties he could loosen with his teeth.

  As the music shifted from nice days to life on the docks and Hailey lifted her fists again to jab at the bag, he pulled the gym’s main door open and stepped inside. Sweet female sweat and just a hint of the lilac scent he always associated with her drifted toward his nose.

  She didn’t stop punching. Left hook, left, right again. And his blood warmed the closer he got. It wasn’t until he reached the stereo and hit the power button that she stopped abruptly and whipped his way.

  Surprise registered in her sapphire eyes first. Then distrust. And finally, disgust.

  Okay, after their run-in earlier, he had that coming. But she’d purposely left him hanging, and he wanted answers.

  She didn’t say anything, but her chest rose and fell as she drew deep breaths. A bead of sweat rolled down her bruised temple, over her jaw, down the long, slender column of neck, heading straight for her breasts. Like an idiot, he watched the droplet, his body temperature growing hotter by the minute as it slid downward.

  And that’s when he saw the yellowing bruises. Faint traces of what she’d been through before. On her ribs, on her thighs, on the soft skin of her arms. Near a bandage by her shoulder.

  “How’d you get in here?” she asked, breathless.

  He forced his gaze away from her fading injuries, told himself she was fine, healthy, that whatever she’d endured, she’d survived. But the urge to coldcock whoever had done this to her was hard to overcome. And Kauffman was seriously dead meat.

  “Janitor.”

  “Did you come to arrest me or are you just having trouble sleeping, Maxwell?”

  Her voice pulled his brain away from exacting revenge, and he focused on her face. He wasn’t about to tell her he didn’t sleep, not much anyway. And the look in her eyes warned him her workout session hadn’t done much to cool her temper. “Should I arrest you?” he asked.

  She glanced past him to the windows, then looked at his face again. “Who’s playing good cop tonight?”

  “No one. I’m here alone.”

  One elegant brow lifted. “Inspector Clouseau know you’re going renegade?”

  The muscles around his eyes tightened with humor. “No, he doesn’t. He’d tear into me if he did.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “’Cause I’m not done with you yet.”

  Her eyes never left his as she lifted her hand to mop up the sweat on her forehead. “I already told you I’m not answering any more questions without my lawyer.”

  “I’m not here officially, Hailey.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he added, “I saw the surveillance tapes. Trust me when I say, you need a friend right now. And I may be all you’ve got.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

  “Answers. Unofficially,” he added before she could spout off anything else about her lawyer. “But mostly to help you.”

  Those blue eyes of hers searched his face, and he could practically see the wheels turning in her mind. Along with a great big dose of I-don’t-think-so.

  “You want answers?” she said. “Unofficial?”

  He nodded slowly, thinking she was capitulating way too quickly, but thankful he wasn’t going to have to pry it out of her.

  “Fine. I’ll answer whatever question you’ve got. But you’ve got to take me down first. I take you down, I get to ask the questions.”

  She wanted to spar? With him? Here? Now? He glanced around the mats, back at her, slicked with sweat, bruises not yet healed from her last run-in and juiced up on endorphins. Yeah, he wanted answers, but he wouldn’t hurt her to get them. “I don’t think that’s such a good—”

  “Scared?”

  The look of utter confidence across her face stopped him. “No, I just—”

  She took a step back and held out her hands. “How bad do you want your answers, Maxwell? Gimme your best shot.”

  He wasn’t going to actually do this, was he?

  The smug spark in her eye answered his question. Before he thought better of it, he was toeing off his shoes and sliding out of his jacket.

  “The gun, too,” she said as he tossed his coat on the counter along the far wall. “I don’t want you to get shot again.”

  He glanced back at her as he removed his shoulder harness and set his firearm on the counter as well, refusing to rub the scar on his shoulder where he’d been shot three months before when he’d gone looking for his sister in Florida. Hailey had been there then as well. In fact, if it weren’t for Hailey, he might not have survived.

  He remembered the panic in her voice when she’d found him left for dead, and the way she’d said his name—the only time he ever remembered hearing her say his first name—how sweet and sexy it had sounded on her lips. How he’d wanted to hear her say it again. But she hadn’t. Not when she’d sat with him at the hospital telling him stupid jokes when he’d been getting stitched up or when she’d kept him company on the way back to Florida. Even after they’d hung out and danced most of the night at Lisa and Rafe’s wedding, weeks later, she hadn’t once called him by his first name again.

  Which, in retrospect, was probably a good thing. What would he have done if she had? Just because she was the first person who’d made him feel something in almost a year, didn’t mean shit.

  Except…he suddenly wanted to hear her say it. Needed to for reasons he couldn’t understand.

  He walked back out on the mat, dressed in his jeans and T-shirt, watching as her eyes ran over him from head to toe. His blood warmed under that heated look, and he told himself if she wanted to play this game, he’d go along, but he wouldn’t hurt her. No answers were worth adding to her bruises.

  “You’re looking a little overconfident there, Maxwell.”

  “Only because I know you’ve got to be tired after your workout.”

  Her eyes sparked. “I was only warming up. Show me what you’ve got.”

  Neither of them moved. Just stared at each other. He felt like an idiot because he wasn’t about to flip her to her back and pin her to the mat. When it was clear they were at a standoff, he stepped toward her. “Look, Hailey—”

  She had her hand around his wrist before he even saw her move. She was quick, and her pressure-point technique worked like a charm. As his wrist numbed and pain shot up his arm, she hooked her arm under his elbow, twisted his wrist around his back and slammed him into the mat, face-first.

  “That’s one for me,” she said, pressing his wrist into his back until his teeth knocked together from the pain. “Why did you walk away from me in Puerto Rico?”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Nice try.” She twisted his wrist up until he slapped his free hand against the mat to keep from screaming like a little girl.

  “Alright! Goddammit. It was a crappy thing to do, okay?”

  She let go of his wrist and stood quickly. “I know it was.”

  He rolled to his back, wiggled his wrist to get the blood flowing again. Then sat up slowly and studied her across the mat.

  Okay, this was a surprise. He’d known she was attracted to him, but he’d figured walking away from her after the wedding instead of after he slept with her would spare her some angst. Obviously he’d thought wrong. “I saved you from getting involved with me then. You should be thanking me instead of being pissed about it.”

  “I am. Get up and let’s go again.”

  That good ol’ instinct of his said he should do what he’d done back then and walk away from
her now. But that irritating voice screaming, coward, forced him to his feet. And as he studied her carefully, he realized she’d led with her left. Come to think of it, when she’d been pounding the crap out of that bag, she’d been using her left hand as well. “Hailey, I really just want to talk to you about what happened at your cousin’s—”

  “No talking. Give me your best move.”

  He still wasn’t willing to fight her over this. He took a step forward to try to get her attention, and again she moved so fast he barely tracked it. One minute she was facing him, the next she was up close, her left arm sliding around his back, her torso twisting around and lowering so her hip hit him just beneath his center of gravity. Then all he felt was air as she threw him over her hip and he hit the mat with a resounding thud.

  He groaned and rolled to his back. Okay, that one she hadn’t learned at the academy. And damn, she was stronger than she looked.

  “That’s two for me, Maxwell.” She braced her hands on her knees and leaned down toward him with a self-satisfied expression. “Is that a habit of yours, going around leading women on, or are you just a prick?”

  “Leading women on? Is that what you think I did?”

  “Two for two. I’d say that’s exactly what you do. I think you like the power of it. I think you like seeing a woman get all worked up so you can drop her on her ass. Good fun, huh?”

  Shit. “Hailey, I—”

  “In case you forgot, I’m the one asking the questions. You’re the one getting your butt kicked.” She stepped back. “Go again.”

  His blood pulsed as he pushed to his feet. Okay, he’d been wrong. She was ticked about what had happened in Puerto Rico and even more pissed about last night than he’d thought. Which meant only one thing—he’d gotten under her skin. Maybe as much as she’d gotten under his. That thought cooled him out a little. But his adrenaline surged when she charged out of nowhere, grabbed him by the shoulders, slid to the ground and kicked both legs out from under him.

  He landed hard on his back, and this time saw stars. And oh, shit, there was something seriously wrong with him because he liked this. Liked having her hands on his body and loved being hurt by her.

  She was on her feet before he could even catch his breath. But she was breathing hard. And she wasn’t quite as solid as she tried to appear. “Go home, Maxwell. I’ve got better things to do than toss you to the ground all night long. And as fun as this has been, I’m not interested anymore.”

  She turned and got one step away before he kicked out, knocking her off balance. Her hands flew out in surprise, but before she hit the mat he was up, twisting around so he was at her front, going down with her so he took the brunt of the fall and she landed hard against his chest.

  She immediately pushed off, but he rolled, pinning her beneath him. Her hands darted out, but he easily grabbed them and shackled them over her head. Then he hooked his feet around her legs so she couldn’t break free and kick him in the nuts as he stared down at her enraged face.

  “Let me go,” she growled.

  Each time she wiggled, it brought their hips into closer contact and sent more blood rushing to his groin. “Not a chance. I think a pin counts for three.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “I will. But not today. Question one. Are you sleeping with Billy Sullivan?”

  “What?”

  “I’m the one asking right now. You’re answering. Yes or no.”

  She glared up at him. Struggled. Realized she was stuck. “No.”

  “You sure?”

  “Is that your second question?”

  No way. “Did Sullivan hit you?”

  “No.”

  “Who did?”

  Her jaw clenched. “Some prick in the elevator at my father’s building in Miami. Wanted to send me a message to back off.”

  “Back off what?”

  “Running the company. Everyone wants me to sign over my interest so they can get rid of me.”

  “Including your cousin?”

  She stared at him long and hard, and he saw then why she hadn’t wanted to answer his questions. No matter how she did, it was only going to make her look more guilty. “Yes.”

  “One more question—”

  She struggled against his hold again. ‘I’ve answered way more than three already—”

  “—if you aren’t sleeping with Sullivan, who are you sleeping with?”

  Her eyes flared. “That’s none of CPD’s goddamn business!”

  He tightened his grip on her hands. “You’re right. It’s mine. Who?”

  “No one!”

  “Good.”

  He lowered and took her mouth before she could close her lips. He wasn’t tender or sweet or gentle like he’d been in his apartment. Instead he took exactly what he wanted, demanding and bruising in his kiss as his tongue dipped into her mouth and tangled with hers. She grunted and wriggled again beneath him, but all the friction did was juice him up and send his last remaining brain cells due south. His groin swelled, and he pressed into her, giving her a warning hint at what she was doing to him.

  She went still. Relaxed beneath him as he changed the angle of the kiss and stroked deeper with his tongue, more insistent, more frantic, more wild as her taste filled his mouth and head and soul. And though he knew he should stop, that he was doing exactly what he said he would never do to her or any woman, he couldn’t.

  You think this makes you less of a coward? Less of a failure?

  That little voice somehow cut through the sexual haze surrounding him, and when it did, he realized what the hell he was doing. He let go of her hands, braced his on the mat near her shoulders and started to push off. But as soon as his mouth and body lifted from hers, she let out a moan of frustration, flipped him to his back quickly and climbed on top of him.

  Reality came crashing in. And with it, a whole helluva lot of guilt. “Hailey. Shit, I didn’t mean to—”

  But he didn’t get to finish his apology because her mouth was suddenly on his again, only this time she was kissing him with a frantic need that was 10,000 times hotter than he’d ever imagined.

  He groaned into her mouth as her tongue licked over his, knew he had minutes—maybe seconds—until one or both of them realized what a stupid move this was. His hands rushed to her hair, and he pulled the band free, letting all those gorgeous blonde waves cascade around him. He brushed her hair back, ran his fingers over her shoulder, down her sweat-slicked back, to her hips, where he grasped and pulled until she was rubbing right where he wanted her most.

  Are you trying to save her now, too?

  His brain came back online like a power grid suddenly amping up. And though he wanted nothing more than to flip Hailey to her back once more, strip her of those hot little shorts and prove to himself he could shove that goddamn voice out of his head for good by driving deep inside her, he couldn’t.

  He’d learned his lesson before. He couldn’t help her if he got wrapped up with her any more than he already was. Which meant he needed to kill this right now and never let it happen again.

  He rolled her to her back and broke the kiss. She was breathing hard and staring up at him with rank sexual hunger in her eyes. And he knew right then it was too late. He was already way more wrapped up with her than he ever had been with Julie.

  He pushed off her quickly and stood, running a hand down his face as he reached into his pocket for his Tic Tacs. Not the Jameson he desperately needed. But they worked. Most of the time. He palmed five and popped them in his mouth.

  She eased up slowly to her elbows and stared at him. And she knew. He didn’t even have to hear the voice to know what she was thinking.

  Coward.

  Yeah, he was. But she was too important to play loose and easy with. And he still hadn’t told her the real reason he was here.

  He held a hand out to help her up. She stared at it a beat, then slowly slid her fingers in his and let him pull her up.

  When she was on her feet in front of h
im, his eyes ran over her bruises again, and that guilt swept through him like a tsunami. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” The venom was gone from her voice, but she was cautious. “I’m tougher than I look.”

  Yeah, she was. And dammit, he didn’t want her to be. He wanted her locked up safe and sound where nothing could harm her. “They have you on the house’s surveillance video.”

  Her gaze, which had dropped to his mouth, suddenly shot back up to his eyes.

  “You and someone else,” he said quickly. “They found DNA in the house they think they can link back to the killer. Shit, they’ve got a Roarke employee saying you threatened Bryan in Miami. Hailey, what the hell’s going on?”

  She reached across her body and grabbed her upper arm. But didn’t answer. Only stared at him until he wanted to scream.

  “You were at the house the night Bryan Roarke died.”

  Nothing. Her eyes didn’t even flicker.

  “Dammit, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s happening.”

  “Why do you want to help me?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know,” he snapped, his frustration over everything—her secrets, her cousin’s murder, and his pent-up sexual frustration—all compounding at once. “Maybe because I haven’t been able to get you out of my freakin’ head for the past three months.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  “Is it? Then you tell me why I can’t decide if I should arrest you right now, just to keep you out of trouble, or tackle you to the mat and kiss you crazy all over again.”

  He saw it then. A flash of something he couldn’t quite read in her eyes. Arousal? No, that wasn’t it. Disbelief? Or was that fear?

  What did she have to be afraid of? Unless…

  She took two quick steps back, until her spine hit the punching bag she’d been taking her frustrations out on earlier, stopping her. “You need to go.”

  “Hailey—”

  “No, Maxwell, you really need to go. Now. I’ve already said and done way more than I should have. I’m not answering any more of your questions. Go before I call security and have you thrown out.”