Wilde for Her (A Wilde Security Novel) (Entangled Brazen)

by Burrows, Tonya

  The city had all but shut down.

  This cannot be happening!

  “But I have to go home. Shelby—she’s there by herself. What if the electricity goes out? Worse, what if she decides to throw a no-holds Snow-pocaypse party?”

  “Doubt anyone would show if she did.” Cam’s tone was so reasonable she wanted to throw something at him. How could he be so calm? He slid out of his shoes and returned to his seat on the reclining end of the couch. His laptop sat on the side table next to his bottle of water and a bowl of baby carrots. He popped a carrot in his mouth and grabbed the laptop. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  “Remember last time I left her home alone for a weekend? Five fire departments responded. Five.”

  “Because the neighbor’s house burned down.”

  “Because Shelby’s a walking jinx with no common sense!”

  “She’ll be fine,” Cam said again, still sounding oh-so-reasonable.

  “But work—I have to write up the report and—”

  “Eva.” He finally looked up from his laptop screen. “Give it a rest. You need to shower and sleep, which we both know you were going to do at the station and not at home. Shelby will be fine and the report can wait until the worst of the storm passes. Like you said, Soup’s death was a straight-forward drug overdose. Not exactly a high priority rush case. So go shower, borrow some of my sweats to change into. I’ll make up your bed.” He jerked a thumb toward the high ceiling, where a loft area overhung the living room. The condo had three bedrooms, but he and Vaughn used the third for a weight room, so the office loft had doubled as a guest bedroom whenever she needed to crash at their place.

  She hesitated. This was all so…normal. Same as she’d done a hundred times before. Seemed like it shouldn’t be this easy to fall back into the patterns of their friendship—not after what happened between them in Key West. But Cam was just so…Cam. Easy-going. Rock-steady. It was hard not to relax around him, and the tightness eased out of her shoulders.

  “Fine. Is your comfy Redskins jersey clean?”

  “Top drawer.” He smiled and there was no heat in his eyes at all, as if that one night had never happened. So he did plan on ignoring the sexual tension between them. He did value their friendship more than the sex.

  Thank God.

  Okay, she could handle this Cam. This Cam wouldn’t slam her against the wall and kiss her until she lost all sense of reason. This Cam wouldn’t trap her under his big body and make her feel things that had to be illegal in most states. This Cam wouldn’t force her to forfeit her control.

  “All right. Thanks,” she said and started down the hall. “I’ll be out in a few.”

  In the bedroom, his scent, a mix between his cinnamon gum and the spicy musk unique to him, infused the air. His practical style showed in the no-frills, dark red comforter spread neatly on the king-sized bed. His dresser matched the solid oak of his headboard and he kept his clothes in the wide drawers in no discernible order that she could see, with jeans and T-shirts intermixed with socks and underwear. But, hey, at least he took the time to fold them, which was more than Preston had ever done.

  Shit. She didn’t want to think about Preston or his plea for a second chance.

  Moving fast, she gathered some clothes from the top drawer and scooted into the bathroom, which looked as much like Cam as his bedroom. His scent was stronger in here. A white sink marbled with gray rested on a black cabinet in the center of the room. On the wall over the sink hung a mirror framed in the same black painted wood, and his shaving gear lined the counter underneath it in a tidy row. A nearly full bottle of her favorite brand of hair gel still sat in the exact same spot she’d left it after the last time she’d crashed here. She never thought about it before, but it was sweet of him to buy the gel and the other essentials—disposable razors, deodorant, and even a box of tampons—that he kept under the sink for her.

  Before starting the water in the glass-enclosed shower, she used the privacy of the bathroom to call the office, silently hoping they’d need her to come in. No such luck. The duty officer said they were working with a skeleton crew until the storm passed and suggested she “stay home and stay warm.”

  Well, she’d have no problem staying warm around Cam. She could barely look at him now without heat rushing over her skin and gathering in the center of her belly.

  So she tried her sister again, hoping Shelby had managed to find trouble in the short span since she left the house and she’d have to go home and sort it out. And, again, she was S.O.L. Shelby reported that Preston hadn’t stuck around, and she and Poe were snuggled in together for a Japanese monster movie marathon.

  She ended the call with Shelby, then leaned on the counter and hung her head over the sink in defeat. Tonight was going to be a very, very long night.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cam popped to his feet as soon as he heard the bathroom door click shut, and did laps around his couch, trying to burn off all the energy vibrating in him. He ached so fiercely to have her again, his muscles trembled from the massive amount of control it had taken to stay seated and appear nonthreatening. Heat licked along every nerve ending in his body, leaving him as jittery as an addict jonesing for a hit. He needed a release, preferably one while buried balls-deep inside Eva’s hot sex.

  And she was in his bathroom right now, stripping off her clothes…

  With a string of curses, Cam stopped moving in front of the gas fireplace. He flattened his hands on the mantel and squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers digging into the wood. Had to block out the image of her naked with…something—any-damn-thing else. Baseball. Golf. Yeah, ‘cause those two distractions had worked out so well for him in the past. Or the freaking weather. Or maybe the fact that Soup’s death sure as hell hadn’t been a drug overdose. That should be front and center on his list of concerns, and yet, his mind insisted on torturing him with images of Eva laying on a white bedspread, her hair a cloud of dark silk around her head as he stripped off her red dress… All that bare caramel skin exposed to his mouth and hands…

  No, goddammit. He couldn’t think about her like that. Obviously their night together had freaked her out, and if he ever wanted a shot at getting her back in his bed, he had to take it slow. Bide his time, give her the opportunity to adjust to the new circumstances of their relationship. He just had to control his body’s response around her. Which, going by the massive hard-on he was sporting, was not going to be easy.

  Vaughn’s bathroom was open. He could run through a quick shower in there with no worries that he’d use any of Eva’s hot water because he wanted cold, cold, and colder. Hell, he might even have to go streaking through the storm to douse his need. If he shriveled his boys up far enough, he wouldn’t see them again until spring, and he’d be able to face her again like nothing had changed.

  And, bright side, they’d only be alone together for a little while. Despite the bad weather, Vaughn would be home at some point—his Hummer laughed in the face of blizzards—and he’d act as a nice damper to the sexual tension. A kind of built-in cockblock.

  So, shower. Then maybe Vaughn would be home and he wouldn’t be able to act on his fantasies.

  Cam took two steps toward Vaughn’s bedroom, and his cell phone rang. He backtracked and picked it up off the end table, where it had been charging. Vaughn’s name showed on the caller ID, and Cam shook his head. He probably should have expected it—he’d been thinking about his twin, after all. Sometimes even he got spooked by how in tune they were.

  He answered. “Hey, bro. Have you looked outside recently?”

  “Yeah, it’s nasty,” Vaughn said, “and getting worse. The Hummer can probably handle it, but the city’s got a ban on unnecessary travel, so I’m crashing at Greer’s until the ban’s lifted.”

  Damn. There went his cockblock. Greer lived in an apartment complex several blocks over from the Wilde Security office and, yeah, it was probably better that Vaughn stayed there for the night.

  Still…


  Damn.

  “You okay?” Vaughn asked.

  He heaved a sighed. “Eva’s here.”

  Vaughn’s laughter boomed over the line. “Well, you have the house to yourselves for the night. Feel free to dirty up every available surface—uh, except my bed. And if you fuck on the kitchen counter, don’t tell me about it.”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “Really? I thought that was very helpful advice.”

  “Vaughn,” he said in exasperation. “She only stopped to ask me questions about one of my former informants and now she’s stuck here because of the storm. She won’t say it, but she’s bugged out by what happened in Key West.”

  “So take her to bed. If you keep her busy, she won’t have time to bug out about anything. Seems simple enough to me.”

  “Only because you tend to think with the head in your pants, not the one on your shoulders.”

  “Mm. Your point?”

  Cam grumbled. “Someday, you’re gonna meet a woman who gets you so twisted around you won’t know which way is up. Then I’ll sit back and laugh.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Famous last words, bro. Didn’t I hear a rumor you caught the garter at Jude’s wedding? Who was the lucky lady to catch the bouquet?”

  A pause. “Lark.”

  “Ah ha. And afterward, you hit on her and she wasn’t interested because she’s already engaged to that asshole Linz. No wonder you were in such a shitty mood that night. You’re not used to women telling you to get lost.”

  Vaughn growled low in his throat. “Something like that.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s the first sign. Hate to tell ya, but your days of fast women are numbered.”

  “Shut the fuck up and go deal with your own woman.”

  The line went dead and Cam found himself grinning as he set down the phone. If he didn’t know any better, Vaughn was already twisted up about someone.

  Lark?

  Hmm. Something to consider later.

  At least the phone call had calmed him down in the way that a cold shower wouldn’t have. He could handle this situation with Eva. And maybe Vaughn did have a point. He had spent five long years in the role of best friend. It was time to step up his game and make it absolutely clear friendship wasn’t enough for him anymore. He wouldn’t push too hard, but if he backed off completely, he’d never get anywhere with her.

  He heard the water stop running through the pipes and strode into the kitchen. He’d planned to just snack his way through dinner tonight, but Eva needed something more than a bowl of carrots. Opening the fridge, he considered the contents against his mental list of meals he could make without giving her food poisoning. Hmm. Probably best to stick to canned food. Reece was the only half-way decent cook in the family. He moved on to the cupboards and found a family-sized can of SpaghettiOs. That would work.

  By the time he heard Eva’s bare feet coming down the hallway, he had the can open and was in the process of dumping it into a pot on the stove. She wore his Redskins jersey and a pair of sweats that had shrunk in the dryer, but he kept around for her.

  With her hair down around her shoulders and sleek with water from her shower, she looked vulnerable. Not like a child, because the jersey clung to her obviously bare breasts and her nipples stood out invitingly under the nylon mesh. More like a woman unsure of herself.

  Was she self-conscious because of him?

  As much as he craved her, he didn’t want her feeling insecure around him. This wasn’t his Eva, the woman who unapologetically kicked ass—his included—and didn’t take shit from anybody. The woman who could out-drink almost any man he knew. Who trounced him at darts on a regular basis and threw down at the gym like her life depended on flooring him. Who called him on his bullshit, but got his sense of humor and laughed at his jokes when nobody else did. Where was that woman? Because she wasn’t standing in his kitchen right now, and pain sliced through him with the knowledge he was responsible for sending her into hiding.

  He wanted his Eva back.

  “Hey there.” He returned his attention to his task, scraping out the last bit from the can with a spoon. “Making my world famous SpaghettiOs for dinner.”

  “World famous?” With a derisive snort, she sat at the island bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. “Someone’s stroking his own ego.”

  Not exactly the kind of stroking he wanted, but if it got her to smile, he’d take it. At least now she was comfortable enough to joke with him. That was a good sign. “Aw, ouch. I thought you like my canned goods. There’s even meatballs.”

  “Pleading the fifth.”

  He gave the pot a stir. “Well, as Dad used to say, you’ll eat it and like it or go without—and you’re not going without.”

  Eva smiled and visibly relaxed, her shoulders easing up underneath the jersey. “Have I ever mentioned how much I think I would have liked your dad?”

  “He would have loved you, no doubt in my mind about it. He always wanted a daughter, but after Jude turned out to be another boy, my parents called it quits with the baby making.”

  “Good thing. The world can’t handle more Wilde boys.”

  He took a couple bowls down from the cupboard. “If Dad had a daughter, he would have treated her like just another one of the boys. She would have turned out a lot like you—except with better rhythm. Mom being a dance instructor and all.”

  “A monkey has better rhythm than I do, so that’s not saying much.”

  The SpaghettiOs done, Cam dumped some into one of the bowls and set it in front of her, then stepped over to the Keurig and opened the lid. “Coffee?”

  She stared at it with obvious longing, but then shook her head. “Better not. I don’t think anything will keep me awake at this point, but I’d rather not take the chance.”

  “Right.” He popped a K-cup into the machine for himself, grabbed his favorite mug from the dish drainer, and discovered he was fresh out of small talk. There were so many things he wanted to say to her—“I love you” chief among them—but that wouldn’t put her at ease around him so he kept his mouth shut. After all these years, he was damn good at keeping mum.

  Cam busied himself with dishing up his own bowl. More than once, he swore he felt her eyes on him like a stroking hand down his ass, but whenever he turned around, she’d be staring down at her food. When his bowl was filled, he picked up his coffee and joined her at the bar.

  Silence spread between them, thick and more impenetrable by the minute.

  Finally, Eva pushed her half-eaten dinner away. “I’m going to bed.”

  The way she said it, he couldn’t decide if it was an invitation or a warning. He nodded. “I haven’t made up the pull-out yet.”

  “I know where everything is.” She stood. “Mind if I skip helping with dishes tonight?”

  “No problem. I got them.”

  “Thanks for cooking for me,” she said but still didn’t move.

  Cam set down his fork. “Eva. Are we going to be okay?”

  Sleepy eyes traced over his face, down his body, and lingered on his lap. There was no hiding his response to the once over with the pop tent action going on at the front of his pants. Dammit, couldn’t he have a civil conversation with this woman without his cock leaping to attention?

  She hissed out a breath and spun away.

  “Eva,” he called.

  She paused with one hand on the ladder to the loft and met his gaze from across the room. “I don’t know, Cam. I really…don’t know.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Eva found cotton sheets for the pull-out bed in an old trunk that Cam had once told her belonged to his mother. She fitted them on the mattress before settling down and shutting her eyes. With how tired she was, she expected to fall right into dreamland, but she was far too aware of Cam’s every movement in the rooms below. He wasn’t loud. In fact, he seemed to be going out of his way to stay quiet, and she only heard a few clinks of silverware against the sink basin as
he cleaned up.

  Was it too much to hope that he’d retire to his room when he finished? Probably. It was still too early for a night owl like him to go to bed and, sure enough, he settled down on the couch in the living room a few minutes later. The TV clicked on, and he immediately lowered the sound to little more than a muffled whisper, then he shut off the lights.

  Eva lay on her back for a long time, watching the blue flicker of the TV against the far living room wall. Sleep completely eluded her and, instead, her mind wandered to places it shouldn’t go.

  Like to Cam, naked, his erection straining toward her…

  Damn. She kicked off the blanket and sheet. Every muscle in her body ached as if she’d spiked a fever, stress coiling tighter and tighter inside her with each passing minute. She yearned for a release, but a repeat of Key West wasn’t going to happen. Couldn’t happen. Cam was so far off limits, he might as well be on a different planet. He’d made it plenty clear the sex had just been sex, and although his body may still respond to her, she wasn’t anyone he wanted long-term. He didn’t want anything more than their friendship.

  Didn’t mean she didn’t still want more of him.

  The man himself was off limits, yes. But how many times had she fantasized about him over the years? Little forbidden treasures she kept tucked away and brought out only on the longest, loneliest nights. She could pop the lid off the pressure cooker of sexual tension inside her, and nobody had to know who was front and center in her imagination when she did.

  Heart pounding, she slid her hand over her belly and bit down on her lower lip as her fingers dipped under the waistband of her panties.

  …

  Cam’s head snapped up at the soft groan and he muted the TV, his eyes scanning the loft overhead. Was Eva having a bad dream? Should he go up and wake her? He hated to when she so badly needed the sleep, but if she was having nightmares, she’d wake up more exhausted than before she went to bed.