She slanted him a frown. “I was thinking in terms of you and me.”
“That would depend on our expectations. If we entered the relationship with the understanding that it was strictly physical, and neither of us harbored a secret hope that it would develop into something more, then I don’t see why it couldn’t be done.”
She definitely had no desire for this to develop into anything more. She wasn’t even sure she could handle what she was feeling now. “I don’t have a problem agreeing to those terms. Do you?”
“No.”
It was the answer she’d expected and hoped for, yet he didn’t make a move to approach her. Why didn’t he do something? she thought in frustration. She’d all but offered herself up to him on a silver platter, yet he continued to sit there, looking at her.
“You’re going to make me do this, aren’t you?”
His answer was a slight curving of his lips.
Firming her jaw, she set her clothes aside and rose. Her knees trembled a bit as she rounded the pit, but she forced herself on until she reached his side. She’d thought he would at least stand to meet her. When he didn’t, she shifted uneasily from foot to foot, unsure what to do next. She was an excellent marksman, could outshoot most of the men on the force. She could drop a perp to his knees with a well-placed kick or render him useless with a jab of her hand. But she had very little experience in the art of seduction.
When she continued to hesitate, he cupped a hand at her calf and lifted, guiding her leg across his. With a sigh of relief, she slowly sank down, straddling his thighs and draping her arms over his shoulders.
Now that they were sitting eye-to-eye, the heat she’d noticed in his gaze before was almost unbearable to meet. She was sure if she placed a hand in the narrow space between them, her fingers would burst into flames.
Drawing in a deep breath, she lifted her hands to frame his face and drew his mouth to hers. At the first touch of his lips, a low moan rose in her throat and her eyes shuttered closed. As they kissed, steam continued to swirl lazily around them, fed by the hot stones at her back. Lost in the arousing mist, she gave herself up to the feelings. To him.
Taste, texture, sensation. All three tangled in her mind as he slipped his tongue into her mouth to explore the secrets inside. She felt the silky glide of his hands down her back, their weight as they settled in the curve of her waist. She arched her spine at their urging, and let her head fall back, offering her throat to his lips.
With his hands now cupped at her buttocks to support her as she leaned back, he suckled and nipped a path to her chest. Her breasts ached for his touch, while her body trembled in anticipation. When at last he opened his mouth over her nipple, she dug her fingernails into his shoulders as need lanced her womb.
She’d never known this kind of hunger, this desperate desire to consume another. It was as if he’d set a wild beast loose inside her, and it now paced and clawed, looking for escape. She had to touch him, hold him or die of want.
Dragging her hands from around his neck, she smoothed them down his chest, over his hips, then brought them together to cradle his sex between her palms. She felt the shudder that moved through him, the groan that vibrated against her breast. Emboldened by his response, she stroked her fingers along his arousal, circling its tip with her thumbs. Down, then up again, she repeated the motion over and over. With each play of her hands, she felt his arousal lengthen and harden.
Another ache throbbed to life in her body, this one at the juncture of her legs. She squirmed her hips against his thighs, seeking relief. As if he sensed her need, he slipped a hand between her legs and shaped her mound. The light pressure he exerted was, at the same time, glorious and frustrating.
With a moan she touched her forehead to his. “Gabe, please,” she begged.
Releasing her, he reached beside him, fumbling his hand in a pile of clothing she hadn’t noticed before. When he drew it out, he held a gold-foil disk.
She stared in amazement as he opened it and rolled a condom into place. “Are you always this prepared?” she asked in disbelief.
He tossed aside the wrapper. “I’m a Boy Scout. I’m always prepared.” He shifted her on his lap, aligning her hips with his, then lifted a brow. “But if you’d rather take your chances with Russian Roulette, I can take it off.”
She shook her head. “No. I was just surprised.”
Nodding, he slipped his hands beneath her hips. “If you’re having any second thoughts, this might be the time to voice them.”
She locked her hands around his neck. “I’m not.”
With another nod, he pushed inside.
The first thrust left Andi gasping. The second elicited a low, guttural groan. By the third, she was braced up on her knees, catching the rhythm and riding him hard. Her breathing became ragged; her muscles burned from the exertion. Pressure built inside her, gathering into an unbearable knot of need in her womb.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she arched, searching for the release that danced maddeningly just out of her reach. “Gabe, please,” she begged pitifully.
He set his jaw. “Together,” he said, then pulled her hips hard against his.
His body went rigid and she felt the quivering strain of muscle, the shudders that moved through him. At last the knot inside her exploded, a shattering release of sensation and emotion that shot her high, sending wave after wave of pleasure rippling through her body.
Gradually she became aware of the hand at the middle of her back, the sensation of falling as Gabe sank back to the ground, drawing her with him. Then she was nestled against his chest, his heart a hammer beneath her ear, his arms holding her close.
“You okay?”
Fascinated by the sharp ridge of his collarbone, she stroked a finger lazily along its length. “What’s your definition of okay?”
A chuckle rumbled through his chest. “If you can talk, that’s good enough for me.”
Feeling rather smug, she pushed a toe down the length of his leg. “How often do you take these sweats?”
He lifted his head to look at her. “Who said this one was over?”
Smiling, she inched her way up his chest and pressed her lips to his. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Andi awoke, cocooned by an unaccustomed warmth. She opened her eyes and blinked at the branches that framed the wall of the dome-shaped structure, then at the now cold stones that lay in the shallow pit on the ground before her. It took a moment for her to realize where she was. Another to identify the source of heat spooned at her back.
It took half that time for the regrets to set in.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Gabe was still asleep. Hoping to escape before he awoke, she braced an elbow against the ground and started to rise. A hand on her hip stopped her.
“Where’re you going?” he asked sleepily.
“Home. It’s getting late.”
He slid his hand to her belly and drew her hips back to cradle against his groin. “Not that late.”
“I—I’ve got things to do.”
“Like what?”
She searched her brain for a viable excuse to offer. “I—I need to water my yard.”
He nuzzled her neck and rolled his hips suggestively against hers. “Water it tomorrow.”
She could feel herself weakening and quickly rolled away from him and to her feet. “Can’t,” she said as she grabbed her shorts and tugged them on. “Thanks for the…sweat.”
He lifted himself up on an elbow. “Andi,” he said quietly, “don’t run away.”
“I’m not,” she insisted, avoiding his gaze. She pulled her T-shirt over her head, then reached for her tennis shoes. “I’ve…I’ve just got things to do.”
“Nothing’s changed,” he warned her. “We can be partners and lovers, too.”
“Yeah,” she said, then stooped to duck through the low opening, desperate to escape before she succumbed to temptation again. “Whatever you say.”
Andi’s ner
ves were pretty much shot by the time she made it back to town. In the space of one afternoon she’d broken every rule she’d ever made for herself and placed her career in jeopardy.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she cried softly, emphasizing each repetition with a slap of her hand against the steering wheel. She knew better than to get involved with a co-worker. Relationships ended, and when they did, few people survived the awkwardness and bad feelings that sometimes remained after a breakup. She knew that, yet, she’d consciously ignored the danger and made love with Gabe.
What she’d done was stupid. Foolish. Crazy!
She turned onto her driveway, shoved the gearshift into Park, then lowered her head to the steering wheel with a moan.
And if she had it to do over again, she’d probably do the same dang thing.
She’d enjoyed it. Every moment. And she’d probably be enjoying more of the same at this very minute if her common sense hadn’t finally decided to surface.
But she couldn’t let it happen again. Wouldn’t. The one thing she’d learned from the experience was that it could be addicting. She’d enjoyed having sex with Gabe way too much to allow herself to repeat the experience. If she did, she might begin to depend on him, even need him, and she refused to let anyone or anything have that much control over her life.
With a sigh, she lifted her head and reached for her purse. She froze, her gaze locked on her closed garage door. Painted in bright red, the word whore screamed at her from the door’s front panels. Numb, she got out of her car and stood before the door, sickened by the vandalism as much as she was by the word itself.
Who would do such a thing to her? she asked in disbelief. Granted, law enforcement officers received more than their share of grief from the public they served. Eggs splattered over their vehicles. Obscenities shouted in their faces. But this seemed more than a petty grievance aimed at someone who wore a badge. The word itself seemed to make it personal.
Heat crawled up her neck as she remembered the way she’d spent her afternoon and evening. Was it a coincidence that someone had chosen this particular day to spray graffiti on her garage door? Or had the person known she was with Gabe?
Ice slid through her veins. No, she told herself, and stiffened her spine, refusing to believe that was the case. There was no way anyone could’ve known she was going to Gabe’s. She hadn’t planned to go. It was an impulsive decision she’d made minutes before leaving her house for his.
But the irony of someone choosing to paint whore on her garage on the very day that she’d broken her vow of celibacy was a little hard for her to swallow. The sexual implication alone made her question whether the word was chosen at random. Added to that was the fact that the vandal had struck while she wasn’t at home. Another coincidence? Not likely, since Sunday was the day she usually spent working around her house.
When considered individually, each of the factors could be deemed coincidental. But when they were combined, it was clear that whoever had painted the graffiti not only knew she was away from home but knew where she was and exactly what she was doing.
Richard?
She turned her gaze to her neighbor’s house. He, better than anyone else, would know her comings and goings. Her driveway was in clear view of his living room window, as well as the one in his kitchen.
But how would he have known she was at Gabe’s?
The hair on the back of her neck prickled. There was only one way he could’ve known.
He had followed her.
Five
Ryan Fortune stood before the window in his office at Fortune TX, Ltd. staring out at the manicured grounds that surrounded the office complex. Though he’d turned over the controls of the company to his nephew and now only served in an advisory capacity, he’d kept his office and enjoyed his visits to headquarters, as they allowed him to keep up with the company’s operations. The pain in his head was almost blinding and seemed to increase with each passing day. There were times when he wondered if it wasn’t a physical malady he suffered, but a punishment from God. Though he’d tried to live a good and honorable life, he harbored secrets that shamed him…and haunted him.
Linda Faraday topped the list.
He rubbed at his temple, the thought of her seeming to make his head ache even more.
He knew he should bring Linda and her son into the Fortune family. He’d kept their existence a secret for much too long. But the decision to do so wasn’t a selfish one. He’d wanted only to protect the memory of his brother, Cameron. If he brought Linda and her son into the family, he’d have to explain her appearance, and everyone would know that Cameron had embezzled millions of dollars from Fortune TX, Ltd., a crime that Linda, as an undercover operative for the government, had been assigned to prove.
Unfortunately for her, Linda had fallen in love with Cameron and made the mistake of climbing into a car with him when he was drunk. The automobile accident that had ensued had cost Cameron his life and had left Linda in a kind of coma. Seven months later, while still locked in a coma, she had given birth to a son. Cameron’s son.
The government hadn’t wanted to jeopardize Linda’s identity as an operative and had protected her by making it appear that she, too, had died in the accident, when in fact she had lain in a coma for over ten years.
It was through his own government contacts that Ryan had discovered the cover-up and learned of Linda’s existence. And it was that knowledge that now haunted him.
He squeezed his head between his hands, trying to still the painful throbbing, to block out the haunting memories, the guilt. He supposed it was the discovery of the body in Lake Mondo that had made him think of Linda, of Cameron.
The crown-shaped birthmark on the victim’s hip suggested that the dead man was a Fortune, but when called upon to identify the body, Ryan hadn’t recognized the man.
He dropped his hands to his sides, with a weary sigh. Now he had yet another worry to add to the long list of troubles he faced.
Had Cameron fathered another son, before his death?
“Mr. Fortune, have you got a minute?”
Ryan turned, then smiled, when he saw Jason Wilkes standing in the doorway to his office. He was rather proud of Jason’s accomplishments since coming on board Fortune TX, Ltd., especially since he’d pushed so hard for the young man to be hired. Jason had proved himself to be a hard worker and was showing great promise. “Sure, Jason. Come on in.”
“Are you okay?” Jason asked as he entered. “You look a little pale.”
Ryan waved away the concern. “I’m fine. Just a little tired. What can I do for you?”
“I had wanted to review these spreadsheets with you. But if you’re tired, it can wait.”
Ryan shook his head and settled behind his desk. “Now is as good a time as any. Show me what you’ve got.”
Andi stormed into the station, looking as if she were primed for a fight. It didn’t take her long to find one.
“Hey, Andi,” Reynolds called. “How ’bout having dinner with me tonight?” The officer was nothing if not persistent. And annoying.
She spun on a dime, slapped her hands down on his desk and shoved her face up to his. “The answer is no, Reynolds, and will continue to be no, no matter how many times you ask. Understand?”
He lifted his hands. “Hey. I was just joking around.”
She pushed away from his desk. “Do you see me laughing?”
Dumbfounded, Reynolds watched her stalk away, then glanced over at Gabe. “What’s up with her?”
Wondering the same thing himself, Gabe pushed to his feet. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”
When he reached the break room, he found Andi standing before the coffeemaker, her hands gripped around a coffee mug, as if it were somebody’s throat.
“Strangling it won’t improve the taste.”
With a scowl, she slammed the mug down on the counter and turned away. “Mind your own damn business.”
“Whoa,” he said, and caught he
r arm as she stormed past him. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m in a lousy mood, okay? So buzz off.”
This was more than a lousy mood and Gabe knew it. The dark circles beneath her eyes indicated a sleepless night, and there was only one reason he could think of that could have caused it. “If it’s about what happened yesterday…” he began.
She jerked free and glared at him. “Not everything is about you, Thunderhawk.”
Though the urge to snap back at her was strong, Gabe managed to suppress it. “I’m your partner. What affects you, affects me.”
“So deal with it.”
He caught her elbow and shoved her ahead of him toward a table. “Apology accepted.”
She tried to twist free. “That wasn’t an apology.”
“Close enough.” He pushed her down onto a chair, then hitched his hip on the table’s edge, successfully boxing her in. “Start talking.”
She dropped her forehead to her hands and dug her fingers through her hair. “Someone vandalized my house last night while I was gone.”
He heard the anger in her voice, and below it a thread of something else. Fear?
“How did they get inside?”
She dropped her hands with a weary sigh and sank back against the chair. “It wasn’t a break-in. Some jerk painted graffiti on my garage door.”
“Do you know who’s responsible?”
She opened her hands. “Can you believe my luck? My first original piece of artwork, and the artist forgets to sign his name.”
He ignored her sarcasm. “Did you talk to your neighbors? They might have seen or heard something.”
She snorted a laugh and dragged the rubber band from her ponytail. “Yeah, I talked to them.” She scraped back her hair, holding the thick shank she gathered in one hand, while wrapping the band back into place with the other. “They’re already organizing a Neighborhood Watch meeting.”
He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go.”
She stumbled along at his side. “Where?”
In the Arms of the Law Page 8
