Police Protector

by Dani Sinclair

  Kyra was immediately certain that no ex-wife had decorated this house. Two large, unmatched but comfortable-looking recliners in shades of sand were paired with a worn but serviceable brown couch that had seen better days. Mismatched end tables and a scuffed coffee table perched on a forest-green rug. The overall effect was a cozy, inviting room where a man could kick back and relax.

  No pictures adorned the walls, but family photographs dotted the shelves of an oversized bookcase that had been built over a real wood-burning fireplace. The shelves spanned the length of the longest wall. What should have been a mantel was a long shelf housing a ridiculously large television set. Games, game consoles and DVDs were neatly organized amid a wide array of books.

  The room was orderly and if there was dust on the end tables, it didn’t matter. This was an inviting, lived-in space that would be nice to come home to at the end of a busy day. It suited Lucan.

  “Here, let me take your coat.”

  Kyra handed him the long leather duster. “I’d better take my boots off, too. I don’t want to track water all over your hardwood floors.” They were real hardwood and gleamed brightly even in the soft light.

  “Need some help?”

  His eyes twinkled. Another flush stole up her cheeks. If he noticed, she hoped he’d put her high color down to the cold. “What would you do if I said yes?”

  “Kneel at your feet and peel them off one leg at a time.”

  Her stomach went into freefall. He was deliberately being suggestive, and her blush deepened. She couldn’t remember when a man had affected her this way.

  “I always do like to have a man at my feet,” she retorted.

  “Ah, well there is one small problem.” A grin lurked at the corners of his lips. “I have to warn you that once I get down on the floor, I may not be able to stand again without help.”

  A laugh burbled past her lips. Lucan turned his grin free.

  “Forget it, O’Shay. Nine-one-one is too busy for that sort of phone call tonight. I’ll take off my own boots.” And still smiling, she bent down to do just that.

  “Have it your way then.”

  A gust of wind rattled the house. She heard the icy pellets striking the windows and suppressed a shudder. The storm didn’t seem to be letting up at all.

  “I think tonight calls for hot chocolate,” Lucan continued. “I might have a bottle of red wine if you’d prefer. And I know I still have some of my mom’s brownies in the freezer. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll call her and let her know about the change of plans.”

  “I’m sure she’s worried,” Kyra agreed. “But why don’t I call her while you go upstairs and get in a hot shower? I can manage two cups of hot chocolate.”

  Lucan hesitated.

  “You can barely move,” she pointed out. “That was an intense drive home and you were just in a car wreck yesterday. A shower will relax your muscles and I’ll see if I can work some of the knots loose when you come down. Go. And if you can find an oversized T-shirt or something I could borrow to sleep in that would be great.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I’m not helpless, Lucan.”

  “No.” He smiled appreciatively, making her insides lurch. “You certainly aren’t. Okay. Help yourself to whatever you need or can find.” And he headed for the stairs, moving stiffly.

  Kyra dug out her cell phone and called Maureen. The call was answered on the first ring. The older woman must have been sitting next to her phone worrying.

  “We’re fine, Maureen. We’re at Lucan’s.”

  “Then stay there, the pair of you,” she ordered before Kyra could say more. “This is no night to be driving, especially in that car of Whitney’s.”

  “I agree.”

  “Lucan said you had a problem?” she asked.

  “You could say that. I’m fine, but I hope your car insurance covers bullet holes and a smashed passenger window.” Kyra explained quickly.

  “Don’t you be worrying about that car. It’s just glad I am that you weren’t hurt,” Maureen told her. “The children and I will do fine until this weather improves. The tots are abed. I’m headed there m’self. You and Lucan get some rest and we’ll talk in the mornin’.”

  Kyra smiled. It had been a long time since she’d had a mother worrying over her. The feeling was surprisingly nice. “Thanks, Maureen. If there are any problems with the children, give me a call.”

  Hanging up, she made her way to the kitchen. Like the rest of the house, the room was small, cozy and orderly. Maureen had taught Lucan well. No dirty dishes lurked in the sink and while he didn’t keep a fully stocked refrigerator, he was probably seldom home to do much cooking. All the basics were there including eggs, juice and cheese. The freezer held bread and carefully labeled leftovers. They were in no danger of starvation.

  She pulled out the package marked Brownies and set it to thaw on the counter while she searched the small pantry for the hot chocolate mix. Water ran in the pipes overhead. She tried not to picture Lucan naked in the shower.

  Giving him a massage was probably a bad idea. While Lucan tried to keep things impersonal, she’d seen the darkening of his gaze, felt the quickening of his breath, tasted those firm lips. He might be hesitant to get involved, but he was a sexy, virile man. Of course he’d be willing.

  Was she?

  Yes. Which was nuts. Did she really want to complicate the relationship between her and the one man who was actively trying to help her find Casey?

  Selfishly, she did want that, but Kyra had never been a slave to her emotions and she wasn’t going to start now. Later, after Casey was home and safe, maybe then they could see where this attraction led. They were both intelligent, consenting adults.

  The house shuddered under a stiff blast of wintry air. Sleet had iced over the windows. The lights flickered, went out for a breathless instant and came back on again. The house might be cozy, but it would cool fast if they lost power.

  Kyra set aside the hot chocolate mix, turned off the pan of water she’d set to boil and went looking for a flashlight. It didn’t surprise her that Lucan was prepared. A large, heavy flashlight sat under the sink. She carried it into the living room, where logs and kindling were already neatly laid in the fireplace. Once she opened the flue it didn’t take her long to get a crackling fire started.

  Satisfied when it caught, her attention was drawn to the contents of the bookcase. Because he was a cop, she expected Lucan to go in for mysteries and crime dramas. And there were some of those along with mainstream thrillers, but there was also science fiction, fantasy, biographies, even some old Westerns. She was pleased to find several of her own favorite authors and a couple of movies she really liked.

  The photographs sprinkled about gave insight into his family and friends. Kyra found it easy to pick out Lucan’s siblings. The brothers had similar features even though each of them was very individual. His nieces and nephews also shared that common look that made them unquestionably part of the clan. An old photo of Maureen and her husband showed a striking couple. No wonder their sons were so handsome.

  Kyra lifted a small bird carving beside the photograph. The piece was amazingly detailed and obviously handcrafted. She wondered where Lucan had come across it. Several other small wood carvings were sprinkled about. Lucan obviously collected them.

  Hearing him moving about overhead, she returned to the kitchen and set the water to boiling. Putting the brownies on a plate, she zapped them in the microwave for a minute before taking them and some napkins into the living room. Minutes later she returned with two steaming cups of hot chocolate as Lucan was descending the stairs.

  A jolt of sensual awareness shattered her calm. No one should look that good dressed in black sweatpants and a plain black sweatshirt. He carried himself with an air of confident authority like some sleek, dangerous panther. The man should come with a warning label.

  And when she saw that he’d taken the time to shave again, a heavy sensual heat swept her.


  Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice her loss of composure. Those intelligent eyes smiled as he took in the fire and accepted the hot cup from her hand.

  “Good thinking,” he told her with a nod toward the fire.

  Warmth started somewhere low in her belly at the sound of his voice. She was grateful when hers came out sounding normal. “I was afraid the power might go off permanently. It’s still sleeting and snowing outside. Please tell me that isn’t all the wood you have and that the rest of the logs aren’t out in the yard.”

  He smiled. He had a killer smile.

  “No. I have a covered carrier on the back porch with enough wood to keep us warm well into the morning.”

  Relaxed, he was irresistible. Kyra tried to tamp down the erotic image his words had conjured, out of all proportion to what he’d actually said. She couldn’t seem to shake the want building inside her. What was wrong with her? She was vividly aware of him on a purely sensual level. This was so not like her.

  As if sensing her confusion, he regarded her, his head tipped slightly to one side. Gray eyes darkened to a deep charcoal as their gazes locked. The atmosphere of the room was charged with new tension.

  “Kyra?”

  The power flickered and went out. She drew in a long breath and released it slowly. Only the hard masculine planes of his face showed in the flickering firelight, darkly mysterious and intently focused on her. Before she could speak over the pounding of her heart, the lights came back on, only to flicker several more times.

  “I think that’s my cue to bring in some more wood.”

  His voice was thick with awareness. Or was that her subconscious willing it to be so?

  She set her mug beside his on the end table between the two recliners. “I’ll give you a hand.”

  He didn’t protest and she was thankful that he didn’t touch her, either. If he had, she was certain she’d have lost any vestige of control. She followed him to the screened-in back porch, grateful for the icy chill of the wind-driven sleet. They were both shivering by the time they collected enough logs and kindling from under the tarp to last them several hours.

  An aberration, that’s what it was. Proximity and the situation were playing with her mind. Of course she found him attractive. What heterosexual woman wouldn’t? But she could handle the situation.

  If only he hadn’t shaved.

  By the time they’d washed their hands and returned to the living room, the hot chocolate had cooled to the perfect temperature for drinking. Kyra took the nearest recliner. With a knowing lift to the corners of his lips Lucan took the other, leaving a table between them.

  He swallowed and smiled appreciatively. There was nothing sensual or inviting in that smile. It was as if he’d turned off the attraction with a switch. But he couldn’t do anything about his wicked good looks, and they were keeping the edge of her physical awareness keen.

  He picked up a brownie and strong white teeth closed over it. He chewed as if relishing the taste and swallowed. Kyra picked up her hot chocolate and swallowed hastily.

  “I put fresh towels in the bathroom upstairs,” he told her conversationally. “I also left you a clean pair of sweat pants, a T-shirt and a sweatshirt. The ice is building up out there so I think it’s a good possibility that we might lose the electricity for several hours at some point. Even with the fire going, the house will cool off.”

  She bit into a brownie, concentrating on savoring the rich, chocolate taste only to find him watching her intently. She nearly choked. It was not her imagination. Lucan was attracted but he was going to let her set the pace.

  “I’m going to bring a blanket down and spend the night on the recliner in front of the fireplace.”

  His voice was low, soft, compelling. She could drown in that sound.

  “I’ve slept on it more than once.”

  Easy to picture him, tired after a long shift, falling asleep in one of the chairs with no one around to wake him and send him to bed. Firelight flickered over his features.

  “How long have you been divorced?”

  He stared at the fire but didn’t appear discomfited by her nosy question.

  “Five—no, six years now. Bess didn’t understand what being a police officer’s wife entailed. I was in uniform back then and she hated shift work, especially when it included weekends and holidays. Six months into the marriage we both realized the sex was good but the relationship wasn’t going to work. Bess needed a husband who worked a nine-to-five job and I was never going to be that person.” He shrugged. “The divorce was amicable. I even went to her next wedding.”

  He flashed her a smile.

  “She married a friend of mine. He works for the county. He’s home every night at six and they’re blissfully happy. They have a two-year-old and another child on the way.”

  “Does it bother you?”

  “Not at all. I introduced them. It was a little awkward at first, but we’ve gotten over it. Bess and Ray are nice people. You’d like them.”

  Hearing her own words for Simon tossed back at her, she returned his smile.

  “You might want to take a shower yourself before we lose power,” he continued, lifting his shoulders to relieve tight muscles.

  “I will, but if you’d like me to rub some of the knots from your neck and shoulders I should probably do that now while the muscles are still mostly relaxed from your shower.”

  Her heart hammered at the way his eyes blazed.

  “I think,” he told her softly, “we’d better skip the massage.”

  He was right. She knew he was, but she couldn’t seem to stop the words tumbling past her lips. “Afraid, O’Shay? I really do know what I’m doing. I dated a fitness trainer a few years ago. He taught me how to give a massage. Not to brag, but he claimed I was a natural.”

  His gaze seemed to smolder. He stood slowly, filling the space with the sheer masculinity of his form. “If you’re trying to suggest another way of keeping warm, just say so, Kyra. O’Shays don’t do subtle, as my sisters-in-law will tell you.”

  Heat flamed her cheeks. She rocketed to her feet, facing him. “I was offering to massage your neck and shoulders, not take you to bed. When I want sex I’ll ask for it.”

  “Then ask me.”

  The low, soft-spoken words stole all the air from her lungs. Somehow he’d bridged the distance between them, standing so close she could see a small nick on his jaw where he’d cut himself shaving.

  For her.

  Her heart beat like a wild thing. He ran a knuckle down her cheek.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped.

  “Preparing to kiss you.”

  “You have to prepare?”

  His low chuckle sent waves of passion flowing through her blood.

  “To do it right.”

  His hand closed around her back. He drew her in slowly, giving her time to change her mind.

  As if.

  He crushed her against the hardness of his body and took possession of her mouth. There was such need in that kiss that it overwhelmed her. It was like drowning. Like being reborn. She didn’t want it ever to stop.

  She was moaning deep in her throat as she mashed herself against him trying to get closer. She ran her hands over his back, tangling her fingers in the softness of his still-damp hair. She could feel the hard thrust of him as their bodies sought a closeness barred by clothing.

  And when finally he lifted his head, she wanted to cry. “Easy. Easy, Kyra. We have all night.”

  She stared at him, bewildered, feeling the tension in him, knowing he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  He pulled her head gently against his shoulder, stroking her hair, then cupping the back of her head. “I don’t want to hurt you and I’m losing control.”

  His voice was rough, thick with need. She smiled against his sweatshirt and lifted her face. “You won’t hurt me. You would never hurt me.”

  His response was lost as he reclaimed her mouth.

  A LONG TIME
LATER she sat curled beside him on the deep couch, loving the play of the dancing flames against his bare skin. Her fingers absently traced the scar from a bullet wound he told her had nearly killed him. She’d kissed that scar and others when they’d made love more slowly the second time.

  “I’m glad you weren’t killed.”

  “You just came close,” he told her with a satisfied rumble. “I’m too old to be this horny.”

  “Poor old man. What was I thinking?”

  “You were able to think?”

  She laughed at his teasing and stood. “You never did get that massage.”

  “Really? Because I’m feeling pretty boneless at the moment.”

  With a laugh she began gathering her clothing from the tangle spread around them. The air hadn’t felt cold before, but she could feel the chill now despite the fact they still had power and heat.

  “You’re beautiful, you know.”

  Color rushed to her cheeks. “I’m not.” Embarrassed, she tossed him his sweatshirt. “Put something on before we both freeze.”

  He held the shirt while his dark eyes watched her intently.

  “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m coming back over there.” Was the man inexhaustible?

  “Mentally, I’d like that a whole lot. Physically, I’m not sure I can move, but I’m willing to try again if you are.”

  “Forget it, O’Shay. I’d die of embarrassment trying to explain to your mother how I killed you.” His throaty laugh made her heart sing. “I’m going up to get that shower now.”

  Knowing he was still watching, she added an exaggerated sway to her walk as she crossed to the stairs. He reached her before she’d mounted two steps. For such a large man, he could move with speed and silence when he wanted to.

  She whirled, and he handed her the flashlight. “You might need this.”

  “Thanks.”

  SHE HAD PLENTY OF time to consider the ramifications of what she’d just done as she let the shower spray wash over her. There wasn’t an ounce of regret in her. But fear? Oh, my yes, she was scared. Deep down where it really mattered scared. Because no matter how much she told herself they were consenting adults and it had been an enjoyable way to spend a long cold evening, she knew the truth.