by Lori Wilde
“I think...”
“Yes?” Her face brightened. She straightened.
Ah, hell. He wanted to tell her everything. About his mother’s death. About his experiences in the foster care system, but he just couldn’t do it. He did what he always did when things turned dicey. He took action.
Noah took two strides to reach her and went in for another kiss.
She met him halfway, tipping up her chin, opening her mouth, her tongue touching his, her arms going around his neck, pulling his head down to hers. Noah’s arms folded around her narrow waist and he tugged her flush against his chest once more, those luscious breasts pressed against his hard muscles.
Her hot little mouth burned him from the outside in. Her taut thighs flexed. The feel of her supple body turned his erection stone-hard. He kissed her lips and then moved down to nibble her chin. She let out a soft, desperate moan.
“Noah,” she gasped, her fingers threading through his hair.
He drew back and peered into blue eyes as enticing as sapphires. “Yes,” he murmured.
“I can’t... This isn’t...” She paused.
He held his breath.
She shook her head. Put on the brakes. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
“I know,” he said gruffly. “I know.”
“I don’t want to lead you on.”
“Same here.”
“Our jobs—”
“Gotcha. Opposite sides of the fence.”
“It’s not you. You’re a great guy.”
“You don’t have to make up an excuse. I get it.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to, because I do. I do.”
Noah held up a palm, trying hard to hold onto some dignity, fighting off the caveman inside him that just wanted to scoop her up and take her to bed and let the consequences be damned. “We’ve been through this before. It’s why we broke up before.”
“We didn’t break up. We were never together.”
“It’s why we were never together. You’re Merry Christmas. I’m Bah Humbug. You look for the best in people. I go right for the skeletons in the closet. You’re light. I’m dark—”
“You’re scared to death of intimacy and I’m not,” she finished for him.
“Right. There you go. Polar opposites.”
“Opposites attract.”
“On the surface, maybe, but not for good. Not for the long haul.”
“Why did you kiss me? Just so you could break up with me?”
“I’m not breaking up with you. We were never together. You said so yourself.” Noah took a step back.
“You’re making me crazy, you know that? Before I met you, I was a perfectly sane person. Now I’m doing dumb things like stalking you in cemeteries and decorating your place for Christmas when clearly you don’t want it decorated.”
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes filled with distress. He’d caused that distress. Why was he treating her like this? She didn’t deserve to be strung along, but the thought of losing all hope with her tore him up inside.
Hells bells, what do you want, Briscoe?
“It’s my problem. I know it. I have this need to help people. It’s why I’m a defense attorney instead of a prosecutor.” Her hands fluttered about her face. “Clearly, you don’t want my help, but I keep pushing like you’re going to change your mind if I just keep pushing, and you’re not going to change your mind—”
Noah took hold of her and kissed her again. He’d made her feel terrible for being open and honest and giving. That had never been his intention. He’d wanted to chase her off because he was no good for her, but she couldn’t seem to see that.
She kissed him with a ferocity that took his breath, and then when she was done, she pushed back against his chest. “We’ve got chemistry. Of that there is no doubt. I like you, Noah. I’d like to explore this thing between us, but you’re not ready for a serious relationship. I am. It’s what I want. So, I’m breaking things off with you again before we do something that we both live to regret.”
Noah wanted to tell her that he was ready for a serious relationship, but he couldn’t force the words from his throat. He worried that if he declared his desires out loud something terrible would immediately befall him. Other than his job, whenever he’d gotten close to getting something he wanted, it turned to dust in his hands. He feared that if he laid his heart on the line, that Alana would crush it under her sexy little heels. They were opposites, after all.
Coward. You’re just making excuses because you’re afraid to take a chance.
Hell, yes, he was afraid. He’d never allowed anyone to get too close. It’s why all his previous affairs had ended.
This one was ending before it ever began. As he got older he was generating less traction in relationships, not more, as most people did.
Gotta change, Briscoe, if you ever want things to be different.
“Merry Christmas, Noah,” Alana said. “You can keep the decorations. I have plenty.” With a sad smile, she kissed his cheek. Picked up her empty cardboard box. Walked away.
And he just let her go.
Leaving him with a plethora of holiday cheer, the lingering aroma of her citrusy scent and a hard, tight knot in his stomach.
5
ALANA HAD ONE goal for the holiday season. Stay out of Noah Briscoe’s line of fire. Which wasn’t that easy to do, since her job brought her to the police station on a daily basis. Unfortunately, the man was a workaholic and he always seemed to be there.
It was childish, but whenever she saw him, she pretended to be engrossed in something—her smartphone, a chip in her nail polish, a legal brief. He let it slide, walking past her, glancing at his watch, looking relieved that she was pretending not to see him. But every time she turned her head and his surreptitious gaze met hers, goose bumps spread up her arms.
Dammit! The man carried too much emotional baggage. Why was she so interested in him?
Why? Because beneath that tough exterior lurked the heart of a wounded man just aching to be loved. She could see it in his eyes, but he was too proud to let her in.
Fine. Great. It wasn’t her job to save him from himself.
Anyway, some people just couldn’t be saved.
But Noah was not a lost cause. He did care. He coached basketball at the Pine Crest youth center in his spare time. He gave blood every two months. She knew because she did, too. He was incredibly gentle with the children of parents he’d had to lock up. He—
Rationalizations, Alana. You’re grasping for reasons not to run away. For your own mental health, you’ve got to stop this.
Right.
Especially since she was attending her firm’s annual Christmas party with a date, and all she could do was wish it was Noah’s palm pressed against the small of her back.
Gunter Smith was tall, blond and gorgeous in a Nordic way. They’d gone to school together at Georgetown. Currently, he was a defense attorney practicing law in D.C. but he was considering a move to Pine Crest. He was ready, he’d told her when he called to let her know he’d been invited to the party, to settle down, get married, have kids. He should have been perfect for her. He ticked all the right boxes. Great genes. Toothy smile. No darkness in his past.
And Gunter bored her out of her skull.
Alana wore a black cocktail dress. The hem was a little too high. She’d bought it with Noah in mind. Now, Gunter was the one eyeing her legs with a lascivious look in his eyes. His tailored suit, tight muscles and stylish haircut should have turned her on. They did not. He was too slick, too pretty, too damn smug when he talked about how much money he made freeing wealthy, but oh-so-guilty, criminals. He actually laughed about it.
“I love the law,” Gunter said. “It’s such a cat and mouse game.”
“But you do care about justice, right?”
“Justice is in the eye of the beholder.” He winked. “For instance, you do that dress justice.”
Alana, who’d been holding onto a glass of wine for
the past half-hour, swallowed the whole thing down. It was going to be a long night.
Gunter’s eyes glistened. “Shall I get you another?”
“Yes, please,” she said, more for a little distance than a real desire for wine.
“Be right back.” He smiled and disappeared in the crowd.
She blew out her breath and wondered what Noah was doing on this Saturday night the weekend before Christmas.
“Alana,” Dwight Jacoby called her name as he strode toward her looking purposeful.
“What’s up?”
“I just got a call from the police station. The cops made another high-profile arrest in the Price Mansion arson. I know you were miffed at me for pulling you off the case when Clausen stirred media attention. To make amends, if this case goes to trial, I want you as second chair.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “You deserve it.”
“Who did they arrest?”
“Teague Price.”
“The real estate developer?”
“And great nephew to Colin T. Price.”
Two emotions struck her at once—exuberance over being invited to serve as second chair, the number-one support position to the primary trial lawyer—and trepidation over having to knock heads with Noah again.
Gunter returned, handed her a glass of wine and slipped an arm around her waist. When he splayed his fingers over her butt, it decided the issue. She’d much rather be at the police station with Noah than stranded at this party with a grabby defense attorney looking to score.
“I’m so sorry, Gunter,” she said, stepping away from him. “A client has just been arrested. Dwight and I have to go interview him.”
“Now? Tonight?” Gunter looked disappointed.
“I’m afraid so.” She turned to her boss. “I’m ready.”
“You’re going to the police station dressed like that?” A disapproving frown creased Gunter’s brow.
Alana tossed her head. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I am.”
“I’ll call you later,” Gunter said. “Give you a chance to make things up to me for skipping out on our date.”
“No.” Alana pushed the wine glass into his hand. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“But...but...” Gunter stammered. “On paper we’d be so good together.”
“Paper isn’t life, Gunter,” she said. “Sometimes the best person for you looks terrible on a pros and cons list.”
“I don’t get you.”
“My point exactly,” she said.
* * *
WHEN ALANA WALKED into the interrogation room with Dwight, Noah’s jaw dropped.
For one thing, he hadn’t expected to see her here. Not with the way she’d been avoiding him. Not when Jacoby had taken the Clausen case away from her. For another thing, he had not expected to see her wearing a hot little black dress that showed a generous expanse of firm, trim thigh and a pair of heartbreaker stilettos. The way she looked gliding into the interrogation room, demure pearls strung around her neck, started the mental reel on his X-rated fantasies.
He ached to reach across the desk to touch her. To say something personal, intimate. Compliment her beauty, beg her to forgive him for being such a stupid fool, but of course he could not do that.
Jacoby took a seat beside his client, Teague Price. Alana sat beside Jacoby, directly across from Noah. His eyes met hers. She didn’t shy, didn’t avoid his gaze, but try as he might, he could not decipher what she was thinking.
Once the lawyers were ready, Noah began the interrogation. Based on the tip he’d gotten from Agnes Gaines about the car parked outside the Price Mansion on the night of the fire, he’d had his team comb the street for evidence. The debris they’d collected from curbside had taken the lab techs several days to sift through, but eventually they’d found a candy bar wrapper with Teague Price’s fingerprints on it.
Noah had done more digging and discovered Teague had been in some trouble as a young man for starting fires. Plus, Teague was disgruntled when the rest of the Price family had voted to turn the mansion over to the city for upkeep as a historical landmark. He’d wanted the mansion torn down in order to build an exclusive country club on the lot because it was adjacent to the golf course he already had in development. The Price family still owned the land itself. With the mansion gone, nothing stood in the way of Teague’s goal. That took care of motive.
Now for opportunity.
Noah stated the exact date for the record, then asked, “Where were you the night the Price Mansion burned?”
Teague shoved a hand through his silver hair. “I was home watching television.”
“Alone?”
He shrugged. “My wife was at her bridge club meeting.”
Ah, so no alibi.
Noah continued the questioning, but he couldn’t fully concentrate. He kept smelling Alana’s cologne, feeling the heat of her gaze on her face, and listening to the sound of her soft breathing as a soothing sound track to Teague’s denials.
Snap out of it, Briscoe. Don’t let her mess with your head.
After half an hour, he finished up his questions. For the time being he had to let Teague go free, but his gut told him the man was guilty and he wasn’t going to stop until he found enough evidence to charge him with a crime.
“One last thing, Mr. Price,” Noah said when everyone in the room was on their feet. “We’d like to search your house. Since you have nothing to hide, I’m sure you won’t mind if we just have a short walk through.”
“Get a warrant,” Jacoby said, hustling his client toward the door.
The lawyer knew as well as Noah that they didn’t have enough evidence yet to convince a judge to issue a search warrant.
Alana lingered behind Jacoby and Price. Her gaze caressed his.
He wanted to say something, to tell her how her decorating his apartment had cheered him up, to ask her if she’d give him another chance. But this wasn’t the time or place for such entreaties.
“Alana,” Jacoby called.
“I have to go,” she whispered to Noah.
“I know.”
She raised a hand, looked wistful.
He stood watching her go, his stare fixed on that short skirt as she sashayed away.
Mind whirling with the conflicting agendas of pursuing Alana and digging up more dirt on Teague Price, Noah stopped by his office. He logged off his computer, shrugged into his winter coat, and headed out to the parking lot.
It was almost midnight. Christmas lights glowed from the surrounding buildings. Noah tugged in a breath of frosty air, heard the clicking of a car’s unresponsive starter. He turned his head in the direction of the noise.
The noise came from a silver late-model compact car. Alana’s car.
Immediately, he was at her car door.
She rolled down the window, looking sheepish. “I forgot to renew my roadside assistance membership.”
“No worries,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride.”
“I probably just need a jump.”
He couldn’t help grinning, although capitalizing on sexual innuendo wasn’t his style. “It’s not the battery,” he said. “It’s the starter.”
“How can you tell?”
“Your headlights are on. If it was the battery, your headlights wouldn’t come on.”
“Oh.”
He patted the roof of the car. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
* * *
ALANA SAT IN THE passenger seat of Noah’s SUV, fully aware of how high her skirt crept up when she sat down.
Noah cut a glance over at her legs, a smile hung on his lips. He noticed, too. “Nice dress.”
Her pulse did something weird and her cheeks flushed hot. She yanked on the hem, futilely trying to tug it lower.
He started the engine, but kept his eyes trained on her. Tension tightened her muscles. “Where do you live?”
It surprised her to realize that although they’d been flirting and dancin
g around this on again/off again relationship for months, he’d never been to her house. She gave him directions.
They drove in silence, but the quiet was too much for her to bear. “You really think Teague Price is the arsonist.”
“I do.” He recited the reasons he suspected the real estate developer, right down to his past history for arson.
“I agree,” she said.
“You do?” he sounded surprised.
“Jacoby’s making me his second chair on this case.”
“Hey, that’s big.”
“Assuming it goes to trial of course. You don’t have nearly enough evidence to convict.”
“I’ll get it.”
Alana canted her head. “I believe you.”
“We probably shouldn’t be talking about this,” he said. “Since we’re on opposite sides.”
“It seems like we’re always on opposite sides.”
“Too bad you don’t work for the prosecution.”
“Too bad,” she echoed and was startled to find that she meant it.
Five minutes later, he pulled to a stop outside Alana’s house.
“You own your own home?” he said.
“I do.”
“Home ownership is a big commitment.”
“I’m not afraid of commitment.”
That killed the conversation. Alana opened the door. “Well, thanks for the ride.”
“Hang on, you’re not walking up to a dark house by yourself.”
“It’s not dark.” She waved a hand at the lighted Christmas decorations adorning her yard.
“I’m walking you to the door.” His tone brooked no argument. He was out of the driver’s seat and around to her side before she could put up any further protest.
The truth was he made her feel safe and secure. She wanted him to walk her to the door, but she didn’t want to feel that way. It was too risky.
He took her arm. She’d left home this evening with one man and was returning on the arm of another. But she was happier now than she’d been then. Much happier with Noah than Gunter.
