This was not just a fleeting infatuation.
A new sense of purpose filled her. She went to her closet and began rifling through her clothes, looking for something feminine to wear. She’d had three weeks to think about Donovan, and in her heart and soul she finally knew that this was not an impulse.
Tomorrow, she was going to see Donovan again, and come hell or high water, she was going to rise above her fears. For the first time in her life, she was going to take a risk with her personal life. How it would turn out, she had no idea. She would just have to have faith.
Jocelyn was getting out of the shower when her cell phone rang in her bedroom. Wearing a towel, she padded down the hall to answer it. “Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Tess. Something’s happened and I thought you should know about it.”
Recognizing the sober tone in Tess’s voice, Jocelyn sat down on the edge of her bed. “What is it?”
“Ben Cohen was released yesterday. Apparently, there was mix-up with the warrant they used to search his apartment. A couple of officers crossed wires and they each thought the other had the warrant, and they ended up using one that was meant for someone else.”
“Oh, no.”
“You might want to go and see Dr. Knight. You want me to call his penthouse?”
“Yes. Tell him not to go out, and that I’m on my way.”
Jocelyn threw off the towel and got dressed.
Fifteen minutes later, she was in her car on her way to his place, when her phone rang again. “Yeah?”
“It’s Tess. I’ve been trying his penthouse, and there’s no answer. I called the hospital but he’s not working today. I haven’t been able to get in touch with him, Jo. I hope everything’s all right.”
A cold chill spurted through her. “Keep trying. Maybe he’s out on the terrace or in the shower or something. I’m near his place now. I’ll call you when I know something.”
She parked, holstered her gun, and dashed into the lobby. “Briggs, is Dr. Knight at home?” she asked the security guard.
“No, Ms. Mackenzie. He’s gone for a run. Left about a half hour ago.”
“Thanks.” She pushed through the revolving door and called Tess again. “He’s gone for a run. I’m going to look for him, but you keep trying his penthouse in case we don’t cross paths. Tell him to lock his door and not to move until I get there, and call me if you reach him.”
Jocelyn flipped her phone closed and slid it into her pocket. She started running down the street toward the park which had been his regular route before he’d hired her. She was glad she’d worn her sneakers.
The sun warmed her head and shoulders. She worked up a sweat, running in her jeans and blazer, but all she cared about was finding Donovan.
She reached the park and shaded her eyes. She scanned the crowds of people on rollerblades and walking their dogs. There were lots of runners on the paths, but no sign of Donovan.
Then she spotted someone sitting on the ground a distance away, leaning against a tree in the shade, fiddling with a sprig of grass. It was him. A cry of relief spilled from her lips. Thank God.
She perused the surroundings, looking for any suspicious-looking characters, and approached.
His gaze shot up. His face paled when she came to a stop in front of him. “Jocelyn, what are you doing here?”
She had to work hard to catch her breath. She wiped her forehead with the back of a hand. “I’m so glad I found you.”
He squinted up at her for a few seconds. “Why?”
“Something’s happened. Ben Cohen was released yesterday. You’re not safe.”
He said nothing for a few seconds. “I see.”
“I need to escort you back to your place.”
Donovan stared up at Jocelyn’s beautiful dark eyes and full lips, her cheeks flushed from the heat, and wondered how it was possible he could still be so completely in love with her after the way they’d parted three weeks ago.
Between now and then, he’d flip-flopped between feeling furious with her one minute, to picking up the phone and dialing her number to ask her out the next, only to hang up before it rang. He hadn’t been able to think of anything but her.
Damn, he’d thought she had come here for personal reasons. He’d thought he was finally going to be able to hold her in his arms again, but she was only here because of his stalker. He’d thought wrong, like he’d been wrong about everything else where she was concerned.
Rising to his feet, he tried not to look at her gorgeous face or the way her jeans clung to her long, sexy legs. If he was ever going to feel normal again, he was going to have to forget about her and convince himself that she’d been right. That what they’d had at the lake hadn’t been real.
This was the real Jocelyn. All business. No heart.
“That’s fine,” he said coolly. “I’ll go with you for now, but I think—because we were personally involved—it would be best if I hired someone else to be my bodyguard. You understand, I hope.” If he was going to protect himself from falling under her spell again, he couldn’t even consider hiring her and inviting her back into his home.
Her lips parted. With surprise? Or was it anguish? If it was anguish, it could be no worse than what he’d suffered when she’d insisted on ending things between them. He would not let himself feel guilty about it.
“All right, let’s go this way.” She recovered quickly from whatever she’d been feeling. Always the professional, he thought bitterly.
Keeping her eyes on the path and the people approaching them from any side, Jocelyn walked beside Donovan. They didn’t talk. He knew she was focused on what she was doing, and he, to be frank, couldn’t have made his mouth work if he tried. He just wanted this to be over.
They approached his building and waited to cross the street. All of a sudden, from out of nowhere, a shot fired past Donovan’s head and chiseled a piece of brick out of the building behind him. He instinctively ducked behind a telephone pole. Jocelyn put her arm around him and shielded him with her body, just like she’d done the last time. People on the street were screaming and running. His heart hammered inside his chest.
Another shot blasted by and missed.
“He’s not giving up!” Jocelyn, holding her gun in her hand, looked around for better cover.
Donovan peeked out.
“Stay back!” she shouted.
“He’s there!”
“Where?”
Donovan peaked out again. “Around the side of my building. He’s pointing his gun at us.”
Jocelyn leaned out, just as a bullet hit the telephone pole. Wood splintered next to her face. Seizing an opportunity, she fired at Cohen and miraculously knocked his gun out of his hand. Donovan heard Cohen groan with pain, then saw him bolt.
“He’s running!” Donovan sprinted out into the street to go after him.
“Donovan, wait!” Jocelyn followed.
Sirens began to wail somewhere in the distance, but Donovan wasn’t stopping. He had the chance to catch Cohen now, and he couldn’t wait for the cops.
He chased Cohen down the alley and across a back street. Jocelyn’s footfalls tapped the ground not far behind him. He knew she had her gun, and Cohen was unarmed. He wasn’t giving up now. He leaped over a garbage can.
He was gaining on Cohen. The guy wasn’t a runner.
A minute later, Donovan hurled himself through the air and tackled Cohen from behind, into a pile of wooden crates in another alley. He felt his arm scrape against something; his jaw cracked against the back of Cohen’s head, and he tasted blood in his mouth.
Cohen scrambled beneath him to get away, but the sound of a gun cocking next to his head made him freeze.
“Hold it right there,” Jocelyn said, both hands on her gun, her legs braced apart. “Move one muscle and you’ll be leaving here in a body bag.”
Donovan took one look at her—tough as nails—and backed off Cohen, who raised his hands in the air. Just then, a cop car skidded to a halt on the str
eet at the end of the alley and a swarm of uniformed officers came bounding around the corner. Donovan wiped his bloody lip with a hand.
“Hey, Ms. Mackenzie,” one of the cops said, just before he grabbed Cohen and cuffed him. “Good work.”
She lowered her weapon. “It was Dr. Knight who did most of the work, Charlie.” Her shoulders rose and fell with a deep intake of breath as she looked at Donovan. “Are you all right?”
He inspected the blood on his hand. “I’ll live.”
She stared at him, then something in her face changed. The tough-as-nails persona disappeared, and a softness took its place—along with a few tears spilling over her cheeks.
Donovan was breathing hard. So was she. God, he loved her, still.
Jocelyn took three long, fast strides toward him and threw her arms around his neck.
The whole world disappeared around them. Donovan didn’t care what was happening to Cohen, he was barely aware of the cops reading the guy his rights. All that mattered was Jocelyn, here in his arms, shuddering with tears and weeping onto his shoulder.
“It’s over,” he said, stroking her hair. “He’s in custody now.”
She shook her head against him and sniffled. “That’s not why I’m crying. I do this stuff all the time.”
He couldn’t help laughing. “Then why are you crying?”
She looked up at him. Her face was wet and her nose was running. “Because I was afraid I was going to lose you, and I’d never get the chance to tell you how sorry I was.”
A warning voice whispered in his head. Maybe she was sorry for not preventing the shooting. Maybe she was sorry for hurting him at the cabin. He didn’t want to let himself hope that she might regret saying goodbye….
“Sorry for what?” he asked, despite himself.
The officer named Charlie appeared beside them. “I’m going to need statements from the both of you.”
Donovan and Jocelyn stepped apart. Jocelyn wiped under her nose and quickly collected herself, then began to explain what had happened, as well as the fact that Cohen’s gun had flown out of his hand back at Donovan’s building and needed to be picked up. The officer had some questions for Donovan, too, then he closed his notebook and said he’d be in touch.
Donovan and Jocelyn stood in the alley, alone at last. Neither of them said anything for a moment or two.
“You okay?” Donovan asked, wishing they hadn’t been interrupted before. Jocelyn had been in his arms. He wanted her back.
It wasn’t going to happen, however. Not now. The moment had passed, and he wasn’t sure what was going on anymore. She was staring at the ground, looking like a tough E.P.P. again.
“You want to go back to my place for a drink?” he asked, not sure where this was going to lead, but wanting to try anyway. “You’re off duty now, and I sure as hell could use a beer. I’ve never apprehended a stalker before.” He held up his hand and made it quiver.
He managed to get a smile out of her at least. “Sure. I’d love a beer.”
She said yes.
Elation flowed through him.
The very next second, his gut twisted into knots as he smiled down at her and comprehended how much of his future happiness depended on the next half hour of his life.
Twelve
Donovan pulled his key from his shoe wallet and unlocked the door to his penthouse.
“Wait.” Jocelyn touched his arm and held him back. “Let me go first and check things out. You never know.”
Donovan exhaled deeply. She was dedicated to her work, and he respected her for it, even when it got in the way of his hopes to make this drink personal rather than professional.
He waited by the door while she disarmed the alarm and checked his penthouse for God knew what. A short time later, she came sauntering out of his bedroom.
What he wouldn’t give to see her sauntering out of there every morning for the rest of his life….
Brushing those hopes aside, he smiled. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it looks fine. How about that beer?”
“Coming right up. Make yourself comfortable.” It felt strange, treating her like a guest when she’d been his roommate not that long ago.
Donovan went to change into a pair of jeans and a clean shirt, then went to the kitchen and pulled two cold ones out of the fridge and twisted off the caps. He poured them into a couple of mugs and started heading down the hall.
He stopped in his tracks, however, when he heard his Eric Clapton CD playing. Memories of those early nights with Jocelyn came flooding back. He remembered discovering for the first time something of the real woman beneath the suit and the tough girl image. He remembered the way she’d smiled when she’d heard those songs.
He swallowed hard over his anxiety, his fear that today might end the same as that pivotal night at the cabin—when an argument and a breakup had wedged them apart.
“Here you go.” He entered the living room and handed her mug to her. “Cheers. Here’s to Cohen behind bars again.”
“I’ll drink to that.” They clinked glasses and sipped their beer.
“Have a seat,” Donovan said, feeling awkward and out of his element, trying to be casual when all he really wanted to do was take Jocelyn into his arms and kiss every inch of her.
That would probably scare her off, though—to put it mildly—and at this point, he was more than willing to go slow and cool his jets, like she’d asked him to do, that final night at the cabin.
Damn, he’d stand on his head for a week if it would change her mind about ending their relationship.
She sat down and kicked off her shoes, then tucked her jean clad legs up under her. “Donovan, I’m glad you invited me here, because I really wanted to talk to you today.”
He cleared his throat nervously. “About Cohen?”
For a moment she stared at him. “No. I…I know that’s why I went looking for you at the park, but the truth is, I was planning to come and see you before I knew about his release.”
Donovan remembered how he’d felt when he’d first looked up at her in the park, how he’d hoped she was there just for him. Then the disappointment…
He waited in silence for her to continue.
She lowered her gaze, drawing little circles on his upholstery with the tip of her index finger. “I…I’ve missed you.”
All his nerve endings began to quake and buzz.
“The past few weeks have been hell,” she said. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, and I hate the way things ended between us. That week at the cabin was the best week of my life, and I totally screwed it up.”
“You didn’t screw it up, Jocelyn,” he said gently, covering her hand with his.
“Yes, I did.” Her voice quavered, but she spoke with a candid resonance, looking him directly in the eye. “I’m sorry for being such a coward.”
He sat there, dumbfounded, bewildered and shaken. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I was an idiot. I was afraid to love you because of the things I remember about my father and Tom. I was afraid of getting hurt, but walking away from you hurt even more. I want to go back to what we had. I only hope that you can forgive me for causing you pain, and I hope you still…” She lowered her face.
Donovan inched closer to her and cradled her chin in his hand. “You hope I still what?”
Her eyes were wet and bloodshot as she gazed up at him. “I hope you still want me.”
His entire being heated from the inside out. Everything was pulsing with joy and excitement and profound relief. How could she even doubt if for a minute?
“I never stopped wanting you, Jocelyn. I wanted you the first second I saw you, standing at my door with that serious glare in your eyes, just like I want you now.”
She blinked up at him, all woman—vulnerable, feminine. Her lips were moist and parted and a pulse of arousal began to throb in his loins. He took her face in his hands and covered her mouth with his own.
Jocelyn wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her into his embrace, deepening the kiss and letting his hands slide down the soft curves of her body. How many nights had he lain awake dreaming of this? How many nights had he wished she would come to him and tell him she wanted to go back to what they were when they were together?
Yet none of those dreams could compare to the exhilarating flesh and blood feel of her in his arms now, her mouth tasting deliciously of beer and her hair smelling of citrus. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t think he would ever get enough….
“I love you,” he whispered in her ear, nibbling at her lobe and feeling her writhe with rapture and delight. “You’re the only woman who has ever filled the hole in my life, Jocelyn—the sense of emptiness, from never feeling ready to let anyone in.”
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
“You were just you.”
He took her mouth again with a wild intensity, and drank in the luscious flavor of her whole being.
“I promise I won’t get spooked this time,” she said, tipping her head back as he dropped open kisses upon her neck. “These weeks away from you gave me time to understand that what we had wasn’t just an infatuation. I needed time to think about everything, because as you know, I’m not impulsive. But I’m here now, Donovan, and I’m yours. Completely.”
He drew back to look into her eyes. “You’re sure about that?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
He kissed her again, long and slow, then sat back. “Will you stay here for a second?”
“Sure.” She watched him curiously as he kissed her on the forehead and left the room.
He went to the safe in his bedroom and turned the knob left, twenty-four, then right, sixty-eight, then left again to five and back to zero. He couldn’t go fast enough. Damn, his hands were shaking!
Finally the safe clicked open and he reached inside for the little velvet box he’d been saving his entire life. His heart was racing.
Sleeping with the Playboy Page 14
