Her lips curved in a half smile as she said, “I guess chivalry isn’t dead.”
Smiling in response, Ethan lead the way across the parking lot to his car.
The fact that she’d accepted his help had him deciding to venture out a little further. He watched as she got in, then got in himself. His key in the ignition, he left it dormant for a moment and turned toward her.
“Feel like getting some dinner?” he asked her, then added, “We’re off the clock.”
A couple of weeks ago, she would have turned him down without a moment’s hesitation. A couple of weeks ago, she had turned him down, she recalled.
But that was then, and this was now. And she really didn’t feel like going home and being by herself. Not after the captain had just looked at her as if she were a leper.
“Sure, why not?”
He’d learned not to declare victory with her until he was completely certain of it. “You realize I don’t mean a drive-through, right?”
Her smile widened. “I realize.”
He found he had to force himself to look away. Her mouth could look very enticing when it wasn’t moving. “Good. We’re on the same page.”
Not yet, she thought, a warmth slipping over her. But she had a feeling that they were getting there.
Chapter 11
“You look like you could use a friend,” Ethan commented as he sank down into his chair across from Kansas.
It was the end of yet another grueling day of interviews. For the last two days, he and Kansas had been questioning the firefighters who had been the first responders to each and every fire under investigation. The firefighters who, for the most part, she had once worked with side by side.
The interviews, as she’d expected, had not been a walk in the park. At best, the men were resentful and growing steadily more begrudging in their answers. At worst, the responses bordered on being insulting, hostile and verbally abusive. And Kansas, because she was considered one of them—or had been until now—had caught the worst of it.
It took her a moment now to realize that O’Brien was talking to her. And then another moment to replay in her head what he’d just said.
“I could use a drink,” she countered, closing her eyes and leaning back in her chair. Every muscle in her shoulders felt welded to the one next to it, forming knots the size of boulders. “And a friend,” she added after a beat.
If he was surprised by the latter admission, he didn’t show it. “I might have a solution for both,” Ethan proposed. The comment had her opening her eyes again. “We’re off duty.” Technically, they’d been off for the last twenty minutes. “What do you say to stopping by Malone’s?”
“I still have these reports to finish,” she protested, indicating the daunting pile of files sitting in front of her on the desk.
Getting up, Ethan leaned over their joint desks and shoved the files over to the far corner.
“We’re off duty,” he repeated. Then, to make his point, he rounded their desks, got behind her chair and pulled it back so that she was actually sitting in the aisle rather than at her desk.
She looked over her shoulder at him. “What’s Malone’s?” she wanted to know.
Ethan took her hand, urging her to her feet. She had no choice but to acquiesce. “A haven,” Ethan answered simply.
“A haven that serves drinks,” Kansas amended in amusement.
“That’s what makes it a good haven,” he explained, a whimsical smile playing along his lips.
He’d become acquainted with Malone’s the day he became a detective. One of the other detectives invited him along for a celebratory drink in honor of his newly bestowed position. Malone’s was a local gathering place, more tavern than bar. Detectives of the Aurora police force as well as various members of their family gravitated there for no other reason than to just be among friends who understood what it meant to be a police detective or part of a detective’s family.
On any given evening, a healthy representation of the Cavanaughs could be found within the ninety-year-old establishment’s four walls. He, Kyle and Greer had discovered that shortly after they’d discovered their new identities. Coming to Malone’s helped bolster a sense of camaraderie as well as a sense of belonging.
“Are you up for it?” he prodded.
“If I say no, you won’t give me any peace until I surrender.” It wasn’t a question, it was an assumption. O’Brien had definite pit bull tendencies. She could relate to that. “So I guess I might as well save us both some grief and say yes.”
Ethan grinned, looking exceedingly boyish. He didn’t come across like someone to be reckoned with—but she knew he was.
“Good conclusion,” he told her. He watched her close down her computer. “I can take you,” he volunteered. “And then later I can bring you back to your car.”
The last interview had gone exceptionally badly. Tom Williams, a man she had once regarded as a friend, had all but called her a traitor. She was feeling very vulnerable right now, and the last thing she wanted was to be in a car with Ethan when she felt like that. Major mistakes were built on missteps taken in vulnerable moments. If she hadn’t felt so alone, she wouldn’t have fallen for Grant like that.
“Why don’t I just follow you and save you the trouble of doubling back,” she countered.
“No trouble,” he assured her, spreading his hands wide. The look on her face didn’t change. “Have it your way,” he declared, raising his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll lead the way.” She had her purse, and her computer was powered down. He looked at her expectantly. “You ready?”
Kansas caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She supposed that one drink couldn’t hurt. But one, she promised herself, was going to be her limit.
“Ready,” she echoed.
* * *
It was a good plan, and had she stuck to it she would have been home at around the time she’d initially planned. In addition, there would have been plenty of time to get a good night’s sleep. But she strayed from the path within the first fifteen minutes of arrival.
Because she’d felt as stiff as a rapier and really wanted to loosen up a little and fit in, she’d downed the first drink placed in front of her instead of sipping it. Ethan’s cautionary words to go slow—something that surprised her—were ringing in her ears as she ordered a second drink. Maybe she’d ordered it because he’d warned her to go slow and she was feeling combative.
After facing what amounted to blatant hostility all day, being here, amid the laughter of friendly people in a warm atmosphere, was the difference between night and day. Reveling in it, she consequently let her guard down as she absorbed the warm vibrations of the people around her.
An hour into it, as more and more people filled the tavern, she turned to Ethan and whispered, “I can’t feel my knees.”
He hadn’t left her side the entire time and had warned her against the last two of the three drinks she’d had. He looked down now, as if to verify what he was about to say. “They’re still there,” he assured her.
“I’m serious,” she hissed. She didn’t like this vague, winking-in-and-out feeling that had come over her. “What does that mean?”
This time he looked at her incredulously. She was serious. Who would have thought? “You’ve never been drunk before?”
“I’m drunk?” Kansas echoed, stunned. “You sure?” she questioned.
Suppressing his grin, Ethan held up his hand, folding down two fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up right now?”
Kansas squinted, trying her best to focus. Her best was not quite good enough. “How many chances do I get?”
He had his answer. “Okay, Cinderella, time for you to go.”
Kansas tried to take a deep breath and began to cough instead. She was feeling very wobbly. “I don’t think I can drive.”
“No one was going to let you,” he assured her. His tone was friendly but firm. He would have wrestled the keys away from her if he’d had to. “C’mo
n, let’s go outside for some fresh air,” he urged, slowly guiding her through the crowd.
She found that she had to concentrate very hard to put one foot in front of the other without allowing her knees to buckle. “I’d rather go somewhere more private. With you.” Those were the words in her head. How they’d managed to reach her tongue and emerge, she really wasn’t sure.
He nodded toward the room behind them teeming with people. “Right now, outside is more private. And I’ll be coming with you. I’ll be the one holding you up,” he told her.
“Good,” she said, “because I’m not altogether sure I can manage to do that on my own,” she confessed. The second the words registered with her brain, she asked, “What did you put in my drink?”
“I didn’t put anything into your drink,” he told her, shouldering a path for her as he kept his arm around her waist. He caught Kyle looking his way—and smiling. “Could be that having three of them in a row might have had something to do with your knees dissolving on you.”
Having made it to the front door, he pushed it open and guided her over the threshold. Once outside, he moved over to the side and leaned her against the wall in an effort to keep her upright and steady. He had the feeling that if he stepped back, she’d slide right down to the ground.
He was close to her. So close that his proximity worked its way into her system, undermining every single resolution she’d ever made.
God, he was handsome, she thought. Jarringly handsome.
“You know, you’re just too damn good-looking for my own good.”
She would have never said that sober, he thought. Ethan couldn’t help the grin that came to his lips. “I’ll remember you said that. You probably won’t want me to, but I will.” He put his arm up to hold her in place as she began to sink a little. “Take a deep breath,” he instructed. “It’ll help.”
She did as he told her, which was when Ethan realized that his supporting arm was way too close to her chest. As she inhaled, her breasts rose, making contact with his forearm.
All sorts of responses went ricocheting through Ethan.
“Maybe not quite so deep,” he suggested.
She was very aware of the contact. And equally aware of what it was doing to her.
“Why?” she asked, cocking her head as she looked at him, her blond hair spilling out onto his arm like soft fairy dust. “Am I getting to you, Detective O’Brien?”
She has no idea, does she? he thought. “You need to sleep this off,” he informed her.
Her eyes were bright as she asked, “You’re taking me home?”
“Yes.” And then, to make sure that there wasn’t any confusion about this, he added, “Your home.”
Kansas sucked in another deep, deep breath. “ ’Kay,” she agreed glibly.
Weaving one arm around her waist again, Ethan began to usher her to his car. While trying to maneuver, Kansas got the heel of her shoe caught in a crack in the asphalt. She kept moving, but the shoe didn’t, and she wound up dipping forward. Sensing she was about to fall, Ethan tightened his hold around her waist, dragging her closer against him.
For one second, their faces were less than a meas-urable inch away from one another.
And the next second, even that was gone.
Giving in to the moment and her weakened state of resistance, Kansas kissed him. Not lightly as she had in the kiss they’d previously shared, but with all the feeling that Ethan had stirred up within her. The alcohol she’d consumed had eroded her defenses and melted the distance she’d been determined to keep between herself and any viable candidate for her affections. Kansas wrapped her arms around his neck as she leaned into his very hard body. Leaned into the kiss that was swallowing them both up.
For a single isolated moment in time, Ethan let himself enjoy what was happening. Enjoy it and savor it because almost from the beginning, he’d wondered what it would be like to really kiss this vibrant woman who had for reasons that were far beyond him been thrust into his world.
Now he had his answer.
The kiss packed a wallop that left him breathless...and wanting more. Definitely more.
Which was when the warning flares went up.
This wasn’t just something to enjoy and move on. This was something that created intense cravings that would inevitably demand to be filled.
As heat engulfed his body, he knew he had to tear himself free—or else there very likely would be no turning back. And if he was going to make love with this woman, it was not going to be because her ability to reason had been diluted by something that came out of a bottle marked 90 proof.
Expending more self-control and effort than he ever had before, Ethan forcibly removed her arms from around his neck, broke contact and took a less than steady step back.
Bewilderment crossed her face. How could she have been so wrong? It was only because she was still inebriated that she had the nerve to ask, “You don’t want me?”
He heard the confusion and hurt in her voice. “Not on my conscience, no.”
His keys already in his hand, he pointed them toward his car, pressed the button and released the locks a second before he gingerly turned her toward his vehicle. Ethan opened the door and then very carefully lowered her onto the passenger seat. When she merely sat there, he ushered in her legs, shifting her so that she faced forward.
Hurrying around the back of the car, Ethan got in on the driver’s side.
“You don’t want me,” she repeated in a soft, incredulous voice that was barely above a whisper. “God, I’m such an idiot,” she upbraided herself.
Sticking the key in the ignition, he left it there and turned toward her. Maybe it was safer to have her think that, but the hurt in her voice was more than he could live with.
“Look, on a scale of one to ten, wanting you comes in at fifteen,” he told her. “But I want you because you made the decision to be with me. I don’t want you making love with me because the decision was made for you by your alcohol consumption.”
She stopped listening after the first part. “Fifteen?” she questioned as he started the engine.
“Yeah,” he bit off, frustration eating away at him. There were times he wished he wasn’t such a damn Boy Scout—even if his reasoning was dead on. “Fifteen.”
Kansas took a deep breath, smiling from ear to ear with deep satisfaction. Sliding down in her seat, she stretched like a cat waking from a long, invigorating nap in the sun.
She had the grace of a feline as well, Ethan thought, trying—and failing—to ignore her.
She slanted a coy glance at him. “I can live with that.”
He only wished he could.
But he was going to have to, he lectured himself. He had no other choice.
* * *
The most intense part of her buzz had worn off by the time Ethan made the turn that brought them into her garden apartment complex.
Her knees, she noted, were back, as were some of her inhibitions. But there was something new in the mix as well: surprise steeped in respect.
Ethan could have easily taken advantage of her temporary mindless condition. She’d all but thrown herself at him. Had he been anyone else, he could have very easily taken her to the backseat of his car and had sex with her, then crowed about it later to his friends.
That he didn’t left her feeling grateful—and feeling something more than just simple attraction.
There was nothing simple about what was going on inside her.
The emotion was vaguely familiar, yet at the same time it was as new as the next sunrise. And she had no idea what to make of it, what to do about it or where to go from here. It was all just one great big question mark for her.
That, and an itch that all but begged to be scratched.
“Where can I park the car?” he asked her as they drove past a trove of daisies, their heads bowed for the night.
“Guest parking is over there.” She pointed to a row of spaces, some filled, some not, that ran parallel to
the rental office just up ahead.
Ethan took the first empty spot he came to. After pulling up the hand brake, he put the car into Park and turned off the engine. Getting out, he rounded the rear of the vehicle and came around to her side. He opened the door and took her hand to help her out.
She placed her hand in his automatically. The semi-fog around her brain was lifting, enabling her to focus better, physically and mentally. When she did, she had to squelch her initial impulse to just get out on her own and she took his hand, allowing him to help her. She knew she needed it.
There was something comforting about the contact, about having someone there with her, that she couldn’t deny. That she had been denying herself, she thought, ever since she’d run from her disastrous, abbreviated marriage.
She raised her eyes to his as she got out. “Thanks,” she murmured.
His smile was slow, sensual and instantly got under her skin. “Don’t mention it.”
Instead of getting into the car again as she’d expected, Ethan remained at her side. Nodding toward the array of apartments, he asked, “Which one is yours?”
“Number eighty-three,” she told him, pointing toward the second grouping of apartments.
As he began walking in that direction, Ethan took her arm and held on to it lightly. He was probably worried that she was going to sink again, she thought. Kansas took no offense. How could she? Her limbs had been the consistency of wet cotton less than half an hour before. He was being thoughtful.
And getting to her more than she cared to admit.
Reaching her door, he waited until she took out her key and unlocked it.
“You going to be all right?” he asked.
The words “of course” hovered on her lips, straining to be released. It was the right thing to say. What she would have normally said.
But instead, what came out was, “Maybe you should walk me in, just in case.”
Her eyes met his and there was a long moment that stretched out between them. A moment with things being said without words.
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