In the Arms of the Law

by Peggy Moreland

  Rocking back on his heels, he hitched his hands on his hips. “Oh, really? Then what was with all the tongue thrusts and grinding of hips?”

  He watched the color drain from her face and knew he’d hit his mark. He decided to dig the knife a little deeper. “When a woman responds like that, it kinda makes a guy wonder how long it’s been since she’s had sex.”

  Her mouth dropped open, then closed with a click of teeth so loud it sounded like a gunshot in the night.

  “This is ridiculous,” she said and whirled for the house. “I refuse to discuss this with you any longer.”

  “Go ahead and run,” he shouted after her. “Doesn’t change a thing. You’re still a liar. And a tease!” he added, raising his voice to make sure she heard him.

  Four

  It was Sunday and an absolutely gorgeous day outside, the kind of day Andi would normally spend working on her house or in her garden. But the day was already half-gone and she stood in front of her breakfast room window wearing the oversized T-shirt she’d slept in, staring out at nothing.

  Her eyes burned from lack of sleep, and fingers of pain shot through her skull with each beat of her pulse, making her head throb even worse. She had a blister on her foot, thanks to the three-inch heels she’d worn the night before, and she was sure she felt the beginnings of a zit on the side of her nose, a malady she hadn’t experienced since the high school prom.

  And it was all Gabe’s fault.

  He’d called her a liar. Standing in front of her own home and in full view of her neighbors, he’d called her a liar.

  And a tease.

  That was the worst. Liar she could deal with. After all, it was the truth. She had lied to him. But what woman would willingly admit that she’d responded to a man? Especially when that man was throwing the response in her face.

  But a tease? She’d never accept ownership of that accusation. She wasn’t a tease. She might have responded to his kiss, but she hadn’t initiated it, and she certainly hadn’t done anything to make him believe it was going to lead to anything more.

  And if he was mad because she’d ended the kiss, that was too damn bad. She’d come to her senses, realized the mistake they were making, a conclusion he would have drawn himself, if given the time. Was it her fault that she’d realized it first?

  Kinda makes a guy wonder how long it’s been since she’s had sex.

  Remembering his cutting remark, she pressed her fists against her cheeks to squeeze back the tears, the humiliation. How could he have known that about her? Had she really appeared that deprived? That desperate?

  She rarely thought about sex or the lack of it in her life. The decision to live a nunlike existence wasn’t one she’d consciously made. It had simply…happened. It was an instinctive means of survival that over the years had somehow become a way of life. A way to get over the heartbreak of losing—

  She dropped her fists to her sides and squeezed until her knuckles ached. She wouldn’t think about the past, or him. Not now. Preferably never.

  But she was going to have it out with Gabe, she told herself as she turned for her room. She wasn’t going to let him get by with calling her a tease.

  Andrea Matthews might be a lot of things, but a tease sure as heck wasn’t one of them.

  By the time she arrived at Gabe’s cabin, it was after three in the afternoon. Somewhere along the drive from her house to his, she’d lost some of the self-righteous anger that had fueled her decision to tell him off. Now dread knotted her gut at the thought of facing him, and she was giving serious thought to turning around and heading back home.

  But running wasn’t the answer. She’d have to deal with him sooner or later. Better to have it out in the privacy of his home than at the station, where every officer on duty would be able to hear what she had to say.

  Steeling herself for the confrontation, she knocked on his front door. She waited a few moments, then knocked again and listened. But not so much as a whisper of sound came from inside. Frowning, she looked around. She knew he was at home, because she’d parked behind his truck.

  Remembering him bragging about having all the fishing and hunting a man could want two steps out his back door, she headed toward the rear of the cabin. Beyond it stood a thick grove of trees. Since hunting season hadn’t started, she doubted she’d find him there, tracking deer or other wildlife. That left the lake, which she could only assume lay on the other side of the trees. Confident that she would find him there fishing, she headed in that direction.

  By the time she reached the edge of the woods, perspiration beaded her brow and dampened the back of her T-shirt. Making a mental note to tell Gabe that he’d grossly underestimated the “two steps” from his back door, she started down a faint path.

  The air was cooler beneath the canopy of leaves and ripe with the scent of rotted vegetation. She drew in a deep breath, then frowned, sure that she smelled smoke, as well. Aware of the damage a fire could do in rural areas where it could destroy hundreds of acres of land before it was detected, she quickened her step. Minutes later, she reached a small clearing. In its center stood a crude, dome-shaped structure, and before it, the source of the smoke she’d smelled—a small campfire, framed by a circle of stones. More stones were piled on top of the low burning wood, making her wonder at their purpose.

  “Gabe?” she called. When he didn’t answer, she cautiously approached what looked to be a wickiup. Upon closer inspection, she saw that blankets draped the structure and a rectangular piece of stiffer fabric covered a low opening opposite the fire. Her curiosity piqued, she stooped to the lift the flap.

  Just as she did, it flew back and Gabe appeared, his body stooped in order to clear the low opening. When he straightened, her breath caught in her lungs. His Native American heritage had never been more pronounced than at that moment. His chest was bare and gleaming with sweat, and a loincloth hung low on his hips.

  Though he should have been surprised to see her, the only emotion he revealed was irritation.

  “What are you doing here?”

  She wiped her palms nervously down her thighs. “I—I came to talk to you.”

  Frowning, he hunkered down by the ring of stones and picked up a stick. “Save it for tomorrow,” he said, as he poked at the fire, separating the coals. “A man’s entitled to at least one day off.”

  “It’s—it’s not about work. It’s…personal.”

  “There’s nothing personal between us,” he reminded her. “You’ve made sure of that.”

  “You called me a liar and a tease.”

  “You are.”

  “I’m not!” she cried angrily, then caught herself, realizing the denial was yet another lie. “Okay,” she conceded. “I’ll admit that I sort of enjoyed the kiss. But that doesn’t make me a tease.”

  He spun on the balls of his feet to peer up at her. “You ended it, didn’t you? You got me all stirred up, then ran like hell. In my book, that makes you a tease.”

  She tried to keep her gaze fixed on his face and not let it slip to his chest or, worse, to the loincloth that covered his hips. Was he wearing anything beneath it? Realizing the direction of her thoughts, she dug her fingernails into her palms and ordered her mind to stay focused.

  “Yes, I ended it,” she agreed. “I came to my senses and realized the mistake we were making. You would’ve realized it, too, eventually.”

  “I never regret kissing a beautiful woman. The mistake would be in letting the opportunity pass.”

  She blinked, thrown off balance for a moment by what sounded like a compliment. “We’re partners,” she said stubbornly. “If we became physically involved, it would destroy our ability to work together.”

  “How?”

  The single word held enough challenge to fill her with rage.

  “Because it would end!”

  “We don’t have a relationship, and you’re already worrying about it ending?”

  “I’m not worried. I’m stating the facts. I’m olde
r than you. Seven years to be exact.”

  “So?”

  “So it wouldn’t work! Sooner or later the age difference would become an issue and the relationship would end!” Realizing she was all but screaming at him, she hauled in a breath. “Look,” she said, forcing herself to speak more calmly, more reasonably. “I’m content with my life just the way it is. I have my job. My home. I don’t want a man screwing any of that up.”

  “And that’s what you think I would do? Screw up your life?”

  “Maybe not intentionally, but, yes, I think you would.”

  He stood, forcing her to look up at him.

  “I never took you for a coward, Andi.”

  “I’m not a coward.”

  “Yeah, you are. You’re afraid of your own emotions. Scared to death to let people get too close, because you might feel something. Now that I think about it, that’s probably why you’re so good at your job. It’s important that a detective remain emotionally detached, right? Never let his emotions interfere with a case? Hell, it’s the perfect career for you.”

  Stunned, Andi could only stare, horrified that what he’d said might be true.

  Fortunately, he didn’t seem to expect a response from her. Turning, he tossed the stick into the fire. “If you want our relationship to be strictly business, I can live with that.” He waited a beat, then angled his head to look at her. “But just because we can’t be lovers doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.” He extended his hand. “Right, partner?”

  Andi stared at the offered hand, hesitant to take it, sure that it was a trap. But if she refused his offer of friendship, she feared he would consider it proof that she was the emotionally detached person he’d accused her of being.

  Reluctantly, she placed her hand in his. “Friends,” she said and shook.

  Seemingly satisfied with their newly established relationship, he squatted down by the fire and picked up another stick. “I was about to take a sweat. Want to join me?”

  Unfamiliar with the term, Andi frowned as she watched him shift hot rocks onto a shallow wooden bowl. “What’s a sweat?”

  “An old Indian tradition. A way of purifying the body, by sweating out all the impurities and toxins.” He gestured behind him to the dome-shaped structure. “The sweat takes place inside the sweat lodge, the Indian’s version of the modern day sauna.”

  “Uh…thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”

  He set aside the stick and picked up the bowl. “It’s not dangerous,” he assured her as he stooped to enter the lodge. “In fact it’s good for your health,” he called from inside. He stuck his head out and peered up at her as he reached for the flap. “But if you don’t trust yourself to be alone with me, I understand.”

  He dropped the flap, leaving her on the outside.

  It was enough to have her whipping back the flap and ducking inside.

  She stopped one step inside. The blankets covering the lodge completely blocked out the sunlight, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the drastic change in lighting. When they had, she saw that Gabe was kneeling on the ground opposite her, transferring the hot stones he’d gathered to a shallow pit filled with cedar and dried grass.

  “So you decided to join me.”

  She flattened her lips at the smugness in his tone. “Who could pass up such a gracious invitation?”

  Hiding a smile, he tossed a woven mat at her feet, then sat on the opposite side of the pit and opened a hand, inviting her to sit down.

  While she settled on the mat, he lifted a jug and poured water over the stones. An angry cloud of steam shot into the air as the water hissed and skipped over the hot stones.

  “You’ll need to take off your clothes.”

  Her gaze focused on the action in the pit, she snapped up her head, sure that she’d misunderstood. “What?”

  “Take off your clothes. Sweats are done in the nude.”

  She wrapped her arms around her middle. “Thanks all the same, but I can sweat just as well with mine on.”

  “It’s part of the ceremony,” he explained. “Undergoing a sweat is a spiritual rebirth. The lodge symbolizes Mother Earth’s womb. The removal of clothing is a way of shedding all our human attributes, allowing us to offer ourselves as innocent newborns to Her for cleansing and the ultimate rebirth.”

  She hugged her arms tighter around her body. “Well, Mother Earth will just have to use her imagination. I’m not taking off my clothes.”

  His expression softened to one of sympathy. “There’s no reason to be ashamed of your body. I’m aware that, as a woman ages, gravity takes it toll, and certain parts of her body begin to sag.”

  Since his gaze had slipped to her breasts, his insinuation was clear. Insulted, she grabbed the hem of T-shirt and ripped it over her head, then reached behind her for the hook of her bra. Holding the bra up between finger and thumb, she jutted her chin and let it drop. “You seeing anything sagging?”

  He stood and reached for the leather strips that held his loincloth in place. “No. Can’t say that I do. But there’s always the dreaded butt. I’ve heard that can drop as fast as a breast.”

  Andi gaped as the loincloth fell away. Dear God, was all she could think. She didn’t know whether to pretend indifference or commend him on his excellent specimen of masculinity.

  Gulping, she lifted her gaze back to his, and saw that he was watching her expectantly.

  In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought with a sigh, and pushed to her feet. She stripped off her shorts, along with her panties, then quickly sat down, wadding her clothing between her legs.

  He sat, too, and drizzled more water over the stones. A fresh cloud of steam rose to churn in the air, scenting it with sage and cedar. Already warm, the air became thick, making it difficult to breathe.

  She lifted a hand to swipe at the perspiration that beaded her brow. “How long do we have to stay in here?” she asked impatiently.

  “An hour.”

  “An hour!”

  He pressed a finger to his lips and closed his eyes. “In order to reap the full benefits of a sweat, it must be conducted in silence.”

  “Benefits, my ass,” Andi grumbled under her breath. “This is nothing but a way for you to get a cheap thrill.”

  But Gabe didn’t seem to hear her complaints. He sat in a trancelike state, with his eyes closed, his back straight as an arrow and his hands resting lightly on his spread knees. Sweat beaded on his arms and chest and rivered down his stomach to pool in the dark thatch of hair at the juncture of his legs. Heat burned her cheeks as her gaze settled on the thick column of flesh that rested against the dark nest.

  Fearing he would catch her staring, she quickly looked away and pretended interest in the limbs that shaped the frame of the domed hut. But within seconds, her gaze was sliding back to the man sitting opposite her.

  In the semidarkness his skin gleamed a dark bronze, his damp hair inky black. Pads of muscle shaped his chest, his abdomen, his arms. A scar that sliced low across his rib cage caught her attention and she found herself wondering how and when he’d received the wound. A souvenir from a surgery? Knifed while trying to make an arrest?

  How he got the scar didn’t matter, she decided. It certainly didn’t detract from his looks. If anything, it added a level of danger and intrigue to an appeal she was already finding hard to resist.

  She closed her eyes against the pleasure of looking at him and inhaled a deep breath, filling her lungs with steam and her senses with the scent of cedar and sage. Heat swirled around her, stroking her body like a lover’s hands. Perspiration slicked her skin, but her mouth was dry as cotton. Her heart was beating too fast, and her mind was moving too slow. She tried not to think of Gabe sitting naked across from her. But awareness of his nearness became a living thing that crawled through her bloodstream and jump-kicked her nerves.

  She had to get out of here, before she did something stupid, she told herself. He’d tricked her into joining him in the steam by calling her a c
oward. Tricked her again into taking off her clothes by insinuating that her figure was sagging. No telling what he’d try to pull next.

  She had to leave. Return to the safety of her house and the world she’d created for herself there. A world with no place carved for a man. No reason for intimacy. No potential for pain.

  She had one hand braced against the ground, her body poised to rise. But when she opened her eyes and found Gabe staring at her, she froze.

  She found no challenge in his gaze, daring her to stay. No smugness to taunt her into continuing the sweat. She found only…heat. It stretched across the space that separated them and wound around her, binding her to that spot of ground in a way that nothing else could.

  His eyes were dark, fathomless pools a woman could drown in and she was quickly going down for the third time. Her hands itched to touch him, her body burned for the touch of his.

  She slowly sank back down to the mat and knotted her hand in the clothes she held on her lap. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet, anyway.

  But if anything was going to happen, it would be up to her to make the first move. She’d set the terms of their relationship when she’d told him she wasn’t interested in getting physically involved with him. Insisted that it would destroy their ability to effectively work together.

  He hadn’t agreed, but he’d accepted her decision, said he could live with it.

  Now it was up to her to convince him that he couldn’t.

  She drew in a shuddery breath and released it. “You said we could be friends.”

  He nodded.

  “Have you changed your mind?”

  “No. Have you?”

  She shook her head, then caught her lower lip between her teeth. She had very little experience in seduction and no clue how to proceed. “D-do you think it’s possible for two people to be friends and lovers at the same time?”

  “Are you speaking in terms of the general population? Or did you have a particular couple in mind?”