Undone by Moonlight

by Wendy Etherington

  He snatched the protection from between her fingers and tried to take off his jeans at the same time. When he stumbled and nearly fell over, she laughed, but in a good way.

  She stripped off her panties as he rolled on protection, and he found himself where he’d wanted to be from the moment he’d met her—on the verge of being part of her lightness and warmth.

  “Friends?” she asked, sliding her fingertips down the center of his chest.

  “Ahh...yes?”

  “And more.” She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck. “It’s about time, Detective.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  As he braced himself above her, he was more sure than ever that he didn’t deserve her and completely certain he wouldn’t listen to anyone who warned him off. If only for a little while she’d belong to him.

  He kissed her as he joined their bodies, as the moonlight through the window illuminated their need. She both clung to him as guide and made sure he understood what she wanted.

  He gave her everything he had.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips and held him deep inside, bringing him pleasure like he’d never known. She wasn’t a release or a conquest. She was all-encompassing, and he was in big trouble.

  As they rocked and gasped for release, he knew he’d need her again. Every hour, every minute. He wouldn’t get her out of his system with one night and probably not a thousand.

  Maybe he’d focus better knowing she was by his side, but he’d lied going in, and she’d eventually find out. He had no intention of “getting sex out of the way.” He’d stay with her every moment he could, he’d touch her every chance he got.

  How could he possibly be expected to resist her light?

  Her breath hitched as pleasure danced across her face. He increased his pace, absorbing her desire like a cleansing waterfall. His own climax had been hovering, but clawed to the surface as her body contracted around him. Joining her as the passion peaked, he wished for strength to keep her body satisfied, as he wouldn’t hold her for long.

  Wrapped around her as the echoes of their climax pulsed, she asked, “You’re not going to tell me that was a mistake, are you?”

  His breath still heaving, he clutched her tighter. “No way.”

  “Remember you said that in the morning, or you’ll be back in the hospital. For an extended stay.”

  He smiled and kissed the top of her head. She really was remarkable.

  He couldn’t promise no regrets, of course. His flaws and wicked genes were bound to ruin anything beautiful they might share. But he was going to try like hell to keep her from regretting her dedication to him.

  Even though he didn’t deserve it.

  7

  IN THE MORNING, AS SHE prepared a pot of coffee, Calla was the one wondering about mistakes she’d made with Devin.

  After so many months of longing for him to admit their attraction, she still had no idea where they stood with each other. Were they a couple? Friends with benefits? Had they released that pesky tension, so now they could focus on the case against him?

  They’d barely slept, and he’d shown her a tender, even playful side she’d never imagined he possessed. But the cloud of his suspension hung over everything. Now didn’t feel like the time to ask him or herself—what did last night mean?

  Taking whatever happened minute by minute seemed like the only way to handle things. Making impulsive decisions based on the heightened emotions from last night didn’t seem wise. There would be plenty of time for tough questions once he had his badge back.

  “Haven’t we played this scene already?” he asked, causing her heart to jump as she whirled.

  “I didn’t hear you get up,” she said lamely, soaking up the image of him, wearing only his jeans and a smile as he braced his bare shoulder against her bedroom door frame. “Though you didn’t look that happy last time.”

  He moved toward her. His leanly muscled body and the hungry look in his eyes caused her body to flush with heat. When he reached her, he tugged her against him and laid his mouth over hers for a long, slow kiss. “Definitely not a mistake,” he mumbled against her jaw as she fought to catch her breath.

  “Since when do you take my threats seriously?”

  “Since you showed up at my desk, demanding I do something about fraudulent retirement schemes.”

  “Don’t mess with Texas.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He slid his thumb across her lips. “I don’t want to screw this up.”

  Valiantly resisting the urge to ask exactly what this was, Calla retrieved mugs from the cabinet and filled them with coffee. “You want eggs or oatmeal for breakfast?”

  “Eggs,” he answered predictably. “You really eat oatmeal?”

  “It’s good for you.”

  He sat on the counter beside the stove as she retrieved eggs from the fridge. “Too mushy.”

  “Naturally. Where’s Sharky?”

  “Passed out on the sofa.”

  “He got way more sleep than we did last night. Maybe we should have named him Lazy.” She dumped whipped eggs into a pan. “I have some work to catch up on this morning, then I can help you. Now that we know the thief is this guy Forrester, we should be able to narrow our suspects for his accomplice and the reason he framed you.”

  “I’m sorry. My crappy problems are keeping you from your work.”

  “They’re not.” She glanced over to see worry in his eyes. “I need to spend a few hours in front of the computer is all. What are your plans for today?”

  “I’m gonna question some of Jimmie’s buddies about what he’s been up to lately.”

  “Are you allowed to do that?”

  “They won’t know I’ve been suspended.”

  Calla wasn’t sure about that. If Jimmie had helped set up Devin, he was keeping track of the case details. Somewhere in this mess was somebody who wanted to hurt him. Knocked out, suspended and possibly fired was a good start.

  But they could hardly worry about breaking a few rules at this point.

  He retrieved plates, and she served the eggs, which they ate at the bar.

  “I think you should hire a lawyer,” she said. She and her friends could help him investigate, but they were out of their element when it came to his legal defense.

  “What for?”

  “The usual reasons—to advise you, be present if you’re questioned again.”

  “I can handle myself.”

  You certainly think you can. His short answers and stiff posture concerned her. Her playful lover was being taken over again by Devin the Brooder. “Okay, your call. When you’re out questioning, can you swing by your place and pick up the case files? I need to know which ones involve Jimmie or any of his friends.”

  “Sure.”

  “Or we could work at your apartment if you’d rather.”

  He shrugged.

  She pushed away her empty plate and leaned toward him. “Hey, where’d you go?”

  His gaze flicked to hers. “I don’t like dragging you into my mess.”

  “You didn’t. I volunteered.” The frustration over his suspension had to be draining. She couldn’t imagine her career, one she’d fought for years to attain, at such grave risk. But this—whatever this was—wasn’t going to work if he shut her out. “I want to be here.” She curled her arms around his neck. “With you.”

  He surprised her by scooping her off her bar stool and into his lap. “I’m not used to sharing.”

  “You did pretty good last night.” She brushed her lips across his. “Surely you’re not going to tell me a cop does his best work horizontally.”

  “I’m a good cop.”

  “But not a good man?”

  “I don’t see how I can be.”

  How anyone could be as smart, strong, gorgeous and dedicated as Devin and see failure in the mirror was beyond her. “You are. Your upbringing is only the start of your life. Just because someone’s parents were rotten doesn’t mean they can’t
change the pattern. You’re living proof.”

  His arms tightened around her. “How do you know what they were?”

  “Call it a hunch.” She stroked his shoulder in an effort to release the tension gathered there. “I also have a hunch you’re going to need a lawyer.”

  “Because whoever framed me has done a damn good job of it?”

  “So you have to realize this could get worse before it gets better. If everyone at the department is looking out for themselves, and they’ve shut you out, somebody has to look out for you.”

  He scowled. “I don’t like lawyers.”

  “Sorry, sweetie, that excuse doesn’t fly.” She dropped to the floor, then carried the plates to the sink. “I have a...” How exactly did she describe Howard? “Well, a friend I’d like you to talk to.”

  Following her, Devin took the plates from her hand, then lifted her onto the counter while he cleaned up. “Who?”

  Distracted by Devin’s bare back—how hot was a half-naked guy doing dishes?—Calla had to stare at the ceiling before she could think again. “Howard Bleaker. He’s a criminal defense attorney here in the city.”

  Devin dried his hands on a towel. “Shaky little dark-haired guy with glasses? I’ve seen him at the courthouse.”

  “What he lacks in confidence and appearance, he makes up for with brilliance.”

  “Why did you hesitate before you called him a friend?”

  No way around the truth. Howard would never keep his admiration of her under wraps. She nearly regretted bringing up his name at all, but Victoria was right, they could trust Howard and he was in the price range. “I went out with him a few times. I wanted to be friends. He wanted more.”

  Devin crossed his arms over his chest. “You want me to hire your ex-boyfriend as my lawyer?”

  “Howard was not a boyfriend.”

  “You dated him.”

  “Twice.” The fierce look in Devin’s eyes made her pulse flutter. “Problem?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  She stretched out her legs, hooking them around his waist and pulling him toward her. “Why? Jealous?”

  “I don’t get jealous.”

  “Not ever?” She flicked her tongue over his earlobe. “I think possessiveness is hot.”

  “Not usually,” he quickly clarified.

  “I could give you a minute-by-minute account of our dates.”

  “Please don’t.”

  Calla’s attention shifted to the floor, where Sharky sat, making noises, looking either ticked off or hungry. Probably both. “We need to get him a bell or something.”

  Devin picked up the cat and asked, “Eggs or oatmeal?”

  “He’s a guy. He wants eggs.”

  When she leaped off the counter and started toward the fridge, Devin snagged her hand. “Thanks for the suggestion about a lawyer. I’ll think about it, okay?”

  Squeezing his hand, she smiled. “Good. You’ll like—”

  A phone ringing stopped her comment. “It’s mine,” Devin said, retrieving his cell from the counter. “Antonio.”

  The conversation was brief, and the strain on Devin’s face spoke volumes. “I’ll be there” were his last words before disconnecting. He shoved his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, stroked the cat then handed Sharky to her. “I have to go.”

  “So I gathered. Where?”

  “The station. Reid wants to talk to me again.”

  She set the cat on the floor in front of a plate of eggs she’d saved. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No. You have work to do.”

  “Devin—”

  “They won’t let you in the interrogation room.” He kissed her, an absent gesture, as his mind was clearly on the meeting with Reid. “I’ll call you later.”

  “At least let me call Howard,” she said, following him down the hall.

  “No. I’m not under arrest. It’s a routine questioning.”

  She didn’t believe that for a second. Why did he? “But Devin—”

  He turned, irritation plain in his eyes.

  “You might want to put on a shirt first,” she suggested.

  * * *

  DEVIN SAT IN THE HARD metal-framed chair with his hands folded on the table in front of him. He knew very well he was being watched through the two-way mirror. He was grateful they couldn’t see into his thoughts.

  He was in big trouble.

  As if waking up in an alley with a beaten-all-to-hell thief lying beside him hadn’t been enough.

  They had plenty of evidence for a solid case against him. Planted evidence, but it had been accomplished thoroughly and swiftly. He’d admire the skill if it wasn’t his ass on the line.

  Who would go to so much trouble? And why?

  The door swung open and Lieutenant Meyer entered the room. “They’re going to arrest you.”

  “I figured,” Devin said calmly, though his stomach tightened.

  “Call a lawyer.”

  “Yeah.” Thinking of scrawny Howard, he winced, but he supposed he couldn’t afford to be picky. “When is Reid coming?”

  “Any minute. Detective—” Meyer stopped, shaking his head as he braced his hands on the table. “Devin, you know I’ve always supported you. You’re a good cop, a valuable asset to my team.”

  “You know me,” Devin ground out, his temper firing. “I didn’t do this. I’m being set up.”

  “No kidding.” Lines of stress appeared on Meyer’s face that weren’t there a few days ago. “But IAB’s under pressure from the chief.” He sighed in disgust. “Dirty cops are bad publicity.”

  Devin surged to his feet, sending the chair scooting across the concrete floor. “I’m not a dirty cop!”

  “I know. But whoever set this up did a damn good job. I’m pushing Reid to continue the investigation, to continue looking into your closed cases and find a motive for the framing. He’s a good cop, too.”

  “Sorry if I don’t join you in the accolades.”

  “This could work to your benefit. Whoever set this up might relax when he hears about your arrest.”

  “It’s not Jimmie.”

  “I agree. Maybe Jimmie will back out of testifying. You know how squirrelly he can be. Maybe he’ll give up his partner. Maybe one or both will make a mistake. We need more time to get to the bottom of all this.”

  “Is that why Reid’s doing it?”

  Meyer shrugged. “Not sure. He doesn’t give much away. And since he’s IAB...”

  “The case file is sealed to all other cops.”

  “Exactly.” Meyer laid his hand on Devin’s shoulder. “I don’t need the file to work this on my own. Quietly.”

  Devin wasn’t sure what he’d done to earn that kind of commitment and risk except close a lot of cases. If Reid found out Meyer was honing in on his case, Meyer would find himself in front of a disciplinary panel before he could blink. “Thanks,” he said lamely. “I’d appreciate you passing on whatever you hear.”

  Meyer winked. “I imagine between the three of us, we can clear up this mess in no time.”

  Only three? Hell, I’ve got a whole gang, boss.

  “Cheer up, Detective. It’s not all fingerprints, mug shots and arraignments today. Your girlfriend’s here.”

  “I don’t have—” He stopped. Calla. Closing his eyes, he tried to use the beauty of her image to calm himself.

  “She and another woman are pacing the lobby,” Meyer added. “I’ll send her back.”

  “No!” Realizing his command came out as fear, Devin clarified, “Tell her to go home. I’ll call her later.”

  “You can actually say no to her?” Meyer asked, seeming impressed.

  Devin shook his head. Not so far.

  As Meyer left the room, Reid entered. With no fanfare and in a rigidly professional voice, he told Devin he was under arrest and recited the standard warnings.

  Devin heard him as if he were underwater and Reid above. A defense mechanism, no doubt. An effort for his mind to reject what his body
was absorbing.

  When Reid pulled handcuffs from his pocket, Devin clenched his fists. “Is this really necessary, Lieutenant?”

  “It’s procedure,” he said, rounding Devin so he could snap them around his wrists.

  As he was led from the room, Devin wondered where Reid’s backup was hiding. If he was such a flight risk, shouldn’t he be surrounded? He was half tempted to struggle or even knee Reid in the gut and run. Instead, he tamped down his rage, channeling it for the moment he got his hands on the creep framing him.

  Now, more than ever, he needed to lead with cold, hard facts. Not passion.

  Though that plan went straight into the crapper the moment Reid led him into the hall.

  Awaiting him there were Calla, Shelby and Howard Bleaker, munchkin attorney-at-law.

  Devin’s supposedly passionless heart leaped with joy at seeing his gorgeous blond lover, but his eyes couldn’t help but take in all of Howard. He was a tiny guy with brown, bowl-cut hair and dark-rimmed glasses that dominated his face. He looked more like someone who should be in math class at MIT than arguing points of law in front of a jury.

  “Devin. Thank heaven you’re—” Calla charged toward him, grinding to a halt as she no doubt noticed the cuffs. Panic and anger leaped into her eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “Can I have a minute?” Devin asked Reid.

  “You have to be processed before—”

  “Of course you can,” Calla interrupted, shooting Reid a violent glare. “I brought your lawyer.”

  Clearing his throat, Howard stepped forward to address Reid. “My client is a duly designated officer of the law. Handcuffs are hardly necessary.”

  “They are when you’re arrested,” Reid returned. “As you should know, Counselor.”

  “I’ll need copies of all the charges and statements immediately,” Howard said, not missing a beat.

  Reid inclined his head. “You’ll have them.”

  “I also need to consult with my client.”

  “After he’s processed.”

  Howard shook his head, and Devin had to give the little guy points for standing firm. “Now.”