Falling for the Cop

by Dana Nussio

  He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about...uh...putting on the brakes earlier.”

  “You don’t have to talk about it.” She hoped he wouldn’t. The only thing worse than wondering why he’d nearly backed out of making love to her might be hearing his answer. “I have to get home to Mom, anyway.”

  She really was a lousy daughter. Even though her mother had been safe in her caregiver’s protection, Natalie hadn’t thought of her all afternoon until she needed an excuse to escape.

  “No. I want to talk about it,” he said.

  He pushed himself into a seated position, using his arms to settle against the headboard. He didn’t object when she propped a pillow behind him and pulled the sheet up to cover him.

  “I said I didn’t know what I was doing with the whole sex and the chair thing.”

  “But we...uh...figured it out,” she said, her face heating.

  “There was more to it, though.” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “I haven’t been worried only that I might never walk again. I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to...you know...have sex again. To perform.”

  She glanced sidelong at him. No wonder he’d tried to back out earlier. Concerns about sexual performance were common with spinal injuries. She might have realized what had been bothering him if she hadn’t failed to keep a clinical distance from him from the beginning.

  “Didn’t your doctors say you would be fine on that end?”

  “I couldn’t believe them without proof.”

  He had proof and then some now. She found a square on the blue-and-black-checked comforter to look at instead of at him. “Well, you know now, right?”

  “I guess I do.”

  He brushed his fingers along her bare arm. Like earlier, his touch made her shiver, but instead of an awakening of desire, this time something just didn’t feel right.

  “So... I guess you’ll be spreading your newfound answers around now.”

  Shane’s hand stopped moving. “What are you talking about?”

  Although she could feel his gaze on her, she couldn’t look at him. She crossed her arms and the blanket slipped down in front of her. Snatching it up again, she tucked it under her armpits.

  “You haven’t answered my question,” he pressed.

  “It sounds like you get around. That maybe you’re a womanizer. Your friends keep bringing it up.”

  He shifted on the bed. “I guess I’m guilty of that. But that was before—”

  Natalie only shook her head to cut him off. “Now you know that everything is in working order, you won’t have anything to hold you back.”

  “Except maybe that.” He gestured toward the chair still parked at the end of the bed.

  “You’re not going to start using that chair as an excuse, are you?”

  He stared at it for several seconds and then looked back to her. “No, I’m not. But you’re right. I’ve dated a lot of women, and I wouldn’t earn any awards over how I treated them. I’ve probably hurt more of them than I realize. But I’m not that guy anymore. I’ve changed.”

  She wanted to believe him, and not only because her heart might be the vulnerable one this time. But she knew from her psychology classes how motivated a person had to be to make a deep and lasting change. Yes, Shane had made changes in his life after his friend’s death, but he’d been determined then. How much incentive would he have to alter the way he treated women when they’d flocked to him even while he’d treated them like dirt?

  “For all the women in your future, I sure hope so.”

  Her sudden realization that she didn’t want other women in Shane’s future only made her more uncomfortable. She had no hold over him. He hadn’t offered a commitment, and she hadn’t asked for one. She had no right to change the rules now.

  “How about for the woman who’s here right now?”

  He stretched out a hand to her, and for several seconds, she stared at it, questions and misgivings holding her in place more effectively than restraints ever could. He was asking for her trust. How could she risk giving him that? She knew his track record and understood the odds.

  But Shane didn’t pull his hand back. He simply waited, his gaze steady as always.

  And suddenly she found herself placing her hand in his, her better judgment losing the battle with her need for him. Her skin tingled with the anticipation of another round of his tender ministrations, but he only settled his arm around her, cradling her to his side. The gesture touched her more deeply than even his best caresses had.

  She rested her head against his chest, his heartbeat thrumming a steady beat near her ear. It was probably a mistake, but she couldn’t resist the temptation to trust someone, just this once.

  “You know,” she said to break the silence, “if you were able to prove to yourself that one of your fears was unfounded, then maybe you don’t need to worry about walking again, either.”

  “Maybe you’re right. If the doctors were right about one thing, then maybe I can believe them when they say I’ll walk when I’m ready.”

  “You already took your first steps. You’ll be running in no time.”

  “I hope so.”

  But as he settled back against his pillow, appearing content, Natalie only felt more unsettled. An image of Shane standing upright filtered through her thoughts. It was definitely him, but she could only see the back of his head as his form grew smaller and then disappeared entirely.

  Maybe her worries hadn’t been over his history with other women after all. At least not entirely. Something deep inside her had already concluded that when Shane walked again, it would be away from her. The whole time she’d known him, he’d needed her, even if he’d been reluctant to accept her help. To encourage him. To develop his therapy plan. Even today, she’d helped him prove that he had no worries in the bedroom. Of course he would leave her when he no longer needed her.

  It wouldn’t do for her to make something more out of this afternoon than was really there. She couldn’t allow herself to have feelings for Shane Warner. He’d even admitted that there were heart carcasses strewn behind him in his dating history. She couldn’t risk that her heart would join the others on that path of destruction. But was it already too late?

  Shane had been staring out the window, but suddenly he turned back to her and kissed her forehead as gently as he might have a sleeping child.

  “I still can’t believe we’re here.”

  She shifted next to him, his hold on her suddenly too constraining. “You’ve got that right.”

  “I bet that first day you met me at the clinic, you never would have guessed that we’d end up here.”

  “Not in a million years,” she managed, though his words hit harder than a punch to the gut. When she’d met him, she’d known that she should stay away from Shane Warner, a cop who represented everything she’d lost the day of the accident. At least then she’d understood that letting a man with a badge into her heart would be a sign of disloyalty to her mother.

  She glanced at the clock. It was almost five thirty. Her mother didn’t know that she’d left work early, but even for a regular day, she would get home late. She scanned the floor for her cell phone but didn’t know why she bothered. It was still in her purse near the front door, still on silent, the way she kept it at work.

  “Oh, my gosh. I’ve got to get home.”

  She sat up on the edge of the bed with her back to him. Why was she trying to cover her nakedness now? He’d already seen all. Knew all. She grabbed her clothes from the floor and pulled them on. After sliding her feet into her work shoes, she retrieved his clothes and sat them next to him.

  “Do you need me to help...?”

  Somehow she glanced back long enough to see him shake his head, an unreadable look in his eyes.

  “No, I can g
et it.”

  She nodded and stood. She couldn’t worry that one of his friends might have to help him dress and would know exactly what they’d been up to. She just had to leave. Now.

  With a quick wave, she rushed from his room. She was out the front door, down the ramp and back in her van before she could breathe again. No, she’d never expected to end up in Shane’s bed, but she’d never anticipated that she would be tempted to care too much about him, either. She should have kept her distance. Hell, she should have walked away the moment her boss had insisted that she work with him.

  Now here she was, leaving but still wanting him, rationalizing her choices today and still needing him. Aware she should run for her life and yet tempted to fall in love with him. Didn’t she understand that loving him would be the biggest betrayal of all?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  AT THE SOUND of the engine starting, Shane let go of the breath he’d been holding. At least she’d made it safely to her car. As fast as she’d raced from his room and as quickly as her footfalls had traced her path through the house, he’d worried that she might hit a patch of ice and fall. He cursed his broken body, not for the first time today, knowing that even if he hurried, he wouldn’t be able to get his boxers on and make it to his chair and to the window before her taillights disappeared down the road.

  A woman had never run away from him so fast. Or ever. He was usually the one running. Well, walking fast, with a phone number scribbled on his palm that he planned to wash off as soon as he got home. So this was what karma felt like. The first time he wanted to stay with a woman, wanted her to stay, she was running for her life. And he’d thought getting shot had hurt.

  If this was what love felt like—as if someone had tried to gut him while still alive and sat with a fist pressed into his heart—then count him out. But worse than being in love with Natalie Keaton—which he could no longer deny—was realizing that she didn’t share his feelings. She’d barely been able to look at him as she’d dressed for the walk of shame back to her car.

  He shook his head as he yanked his sweatshirt over his head and, shifting to a seated position on the side of the bed, he began the exhausting process of pulling on his boxers and sweatpants. One of his friends would be stopping by soon, and the last thing he needed was to be found naked in his bed on a lazy afternoon.

  That thought made him smile. Six months ago, he would have been sharing this afternoon’s juicy details with any of them who would listen. But he wasn’t that guy anymore, whether Natalie believed him or not. She was the one who’d made him want to change. He’d wanted to tell her that, too, but he didn’t have the guts.

  He didn’t recall removing his socks—Natalie must have done that—but he didn’t bother putting them back on. It was enough of a pain using that sock-aid gadget to put them on each morning without having to do it again now.

  Using the transfer board, he shifted himself back into his chair. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if one of his pals found him in bed. He was convalescing, after all. But he didn’t want them anywhere near his room, which still smelled of that floral scent she always wore. He didn’t want their questions, didn’t want to explain that after having the most amazing physical experience with a woman he’d wanted desperately, he felt sad instead of sated.

  How could he have misread her so completely? No, he couldn’t have been that wrong about her. That hooded look of passion in her eyes, her encouraging sounds and the feel of her enticing moves against him—he couldn’t have imagined all of that. He was certain that she’d wanted him. She’d even encouraged him when he’d been ready to chicken out. She’d said he was rejecting her. That was the biggest irony.

  Had it been just sex to her? Just an afternoon activity to scratch the itch that had been developing between them since they’d met? Or had she given herself to him out of pity? After he’d spent a lifetime sharing meaningless sex with women, the one time that Shane had hoped it would mean something more, she could have just felt sorry for him and wanted to help him.

  The problem was that Natalie saw him only as someone in need of it. The whole time she’d known him, he had needed something from her. Her professional expertise. Her support. He’d even needed her body to help him prove that all of his parts still worked.

  For Natalie, it was different. She’d never needed him for anything, and even if she’d said she did while they were making love, that had only been to push him past his fears. Yes, he’d helped her with the basketball team, but she hadn’t really needed his help or asked for it. If he ever hoped to be with her—and he did hope for that as much as he longed to walk again—he couldn’t risk letting her choose him because she pitied him. So that she could be a long-suffering caregiver for him just like she was for her mother. That would be worse than never walking again, worse than giving up the career that defined his life.

  He rolled his chair across the room, past the dresser, where he could see himself in the mirror. His overgrown hair was standing up in all directions after their time in bed. But even after he patted it into decent order, he couldn’t stop staring at the man looking back at him.

  “You need to be strong for her, in or out of the chair,” he told that man.

  She needed to know she could count on him to take care of her and not just the other way around. But how could he prove to her that he was strong when she’d already seen him at his most vulnerable? She’d been there when he was too nervous to even attempt walking. She knew about his fears over his sexual performance. She knew his ugly stories that suggested he was weak, even as a child. So how could he show her that there was more to him?

  He needed to do something for her. It was as simple and as complicated as that. But what? As he started down the hall, passing the family room on his way to the kitchen, he considered it. He opened the refrigerator door, staring at the overstuffed contents and then closing it again. Why was he looking there? He wasn’t even hungry. But as the door clicked closed, he glanced up at the freezer.

  Their night at the ice-cream shop and her mother’s “emergency” call stole into his thoughts. Meeting her mother had explained so much about Natalie. The fierce love. The resentment. The dimming hope. Besides offering a warning about what his life could be like if he didn’t choose to live it, Elaine Keaton presented him with a perfect opportunity to do something for Natalie. Elaine was stuck in a cycle of simply existing instead of really living, but maybe she just needed someone else, someone with some of the same challenges she faced, to show her how. He was just the man to do it.

  As loud radio music and the sound of a powerful V-8 engine filtered from outside his house, Shane rolled back to the family room. He was acting like a kid caught sipping from his dad’s nasty bottle of sloe gin, but he couldn’t help himself. He had secrets now, and his friends were trained in knowing when someone was keeping those.

  “Shane, you in here?” Vinnie called out just after the garage door opened.

  “Family room.” He flipped on the TV before his friend made it into the room.

  Of course, it would be Vinnie taking extra shifts and stopping by on his dinner break again. If only he could convince him that the shooting wasn’t his fault. Shane schooled his features, hoping he could look as if he’d just been interrupted from an afternoon of bad television.

  “Hey.” Vinnie stood in the doorway, wearing his uniform. “You said you didn’t need a ride back from the clinic. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I already had a ride and figured I could save one of you guys the headache of carting me around.”

  “You know it’s not a head—”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Vinnie shrugged and then sauntered into the room. “So, who gave you the ride?”

  The question seemed almost too casual to Shane, but then he was probably just hypersensitive today.

  “Natalie,” he said ju
st as casually. “She had the afternoon off.”

  “Oh, really.” Vinnie’s eyebrow disappeared completely under his hair. “Did she bring you home to play doctor?”

  “Nothing like that.” He forced himself to look right at Vinnie as he answered the question. It was unfair that Vinnie had more experience than he did at ferreting out the truth from lying suspects. “She just happened to be finished with all of her appointments, so she could help me out when Delia took a call. Natalie usually drives me to basketball, anyway, so she already knows where I live.”

  “I’ll bet she does.”

  “Cool it, Vinnie.”

  It couldn’t have been clearer that Vinnie didn’t buy his convenient-ride story, but he didn’t press for more. Usually, he wouldn’t have had to. But today was different for so many reasons.

  Shane turned back to the television he wasn’t really watching. Maybe that was best when all he could think about was flawless mocha skin and lips sweeter than any candy he’d tasted.

  “Do you often watch police dramas?”

  The strange question bringing him back from yet another tangent, Shane shifted his head to look at his friend.

  Vinnie pointed to the show Shane had been pretending to watch. On the screen, a pair of TV detectives were investigating a grisly murder scene and making critical errors like moving the body and lifting a possible murder weapon with their bare hands.

  “Got a problem with them?”

  “Other than that you always hated them, no.”

  Shane couldn’t help but grin. “Never know what I’ll do lately to stay close to police work.”

  Vinnie made a sound like a wrong-answer buzzer. “I don’t buy it. You’re just watching because of the hot detectives.”

  Shane glanced at the screen, where a female detective bent over a body. She wore a tight blouse and badge pinned at the waist of her formfitting slacks.

  “Maybe,” he said, though he doubted it. Lately, he couldn’t think about any woman other than a certain physical therapist who had the cutest freckles and a problem with her height.