by Cindy Dees
His tongue swept inside her mouth, and she met it with hers, tasting and testing the heat and slide of hot man flesh. It made her think of how good sex with him would be. Hoo baby. Sign her up for some of that!
Her body arched against his, loving the hard wall of him against her softness. For his part, Bass swept her against his body, urging her closer. She was happy to oblige and plaster her body against his. Her hands roamed across his back, relishing the deep ridges of muscle on either side of his spine that flexed as he moved restlessly against her.
What an athlete. Sex with him would be a demanding affair, no doubt. But ahh, the benefits would be amazing.
The junction of her thighs cradled the hard bulge of his arousal, making her breath hitch and her limbs go liquid with desire. Which startled her. She wasn’t a limbs go liquid kind of girl most of the time.
Sure, she liked looking at a hot guy as much as the next woman, but she had never thought of herself as the sort who had any real shot at a man like Bass. He was smart and charming and so pretty he was almost hard to look at. And it wasn’t like she ever stayed in one place long enough to form actual connections with much of anyone.
“Are you real?” she whispered.
His mouth traveled across her jaw and nuzzled her neck in the tender spot just below her ear. “You tell me. Does this feel real?”
He nipped lightly at the junction of her neck and shoulder, and a jolt of lust shot through her loins. She squeezed her thighs together, which turned out to be a mistake, because she’d managed to catch the bulge of his erection between the tops of her thighs in the process, and Bass groaned in response.
She shocked herself by sliding her hand down the indentation of his spine to his impressive glutes, and gave a tug, pulling his hips even closer to hers.
“Carrie,” he muttered warningly. “I’m a gentleman, but I have my limits.”
“I’m a lady, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like busting through limits.”
He rolled her onto her back and loomed over her, propped on his elbows on either side of her head. Regret and a solid dose of stubborn entered his shadowed gaze. “Look. We shouldn’t be doing this. And I don’t get involved with women without their full consent. You didn’t ask to sleep in my bed or have me comfort your nightmares.”
As it so happened, she was prepared to give him her full consent. She opened her mouth to do so, but he interrupted her, saying, “Not to mention the ethical problems of me sleeping with you during an active investigation.”
He said it like he was investigating her. Her heart dropped. Of course. She had to be a suspect in Gary’s kidnapping. She was the person closest to him. Was all of this business of Bastien bringing her to his home and getting close to her simply him trying to figure out if she was a kidnapper or not?
She should have known better. Her burst of confidence that he actually found her attractive died on the vine all at once, wilting her self-esteem to approximately zero.
She gathered herself to apologize for throwing herself at him when a phone rang behind him, stopping her.
Bass cursed under his breath. “I’ve got to take that. It’s my work phone.”
He said that like he wouldn’t have taken the call anyway. He was probably thrilled to dodge explaining that the real reason he didn’t want to have sex with her was because he just wasn’t that into her. Honestly. A hot player like him and mousy little her? He was totally out of her league.
He rolled away from her to pick up a cell phone off his nightstand, and she drew a shaky breath, feeling bereft. He had just dodged an epic mistake, and she had just missed a colossal opportunity. Even pity sex from him would have been better than outright rejection from him.
She was doomed never to have a decent love life. The combination of her travel schedule, weird work hours, and general shyness had made that an impossibility.
“Detective LeBlanc,” he snapped.
He sounded annoyed. Was it possible he was irritated at being interrupted with her? Nah, no way. He’d been saved by the bell for sure.
Bass listened for a long time to whoever talked on the other end of the line, eventually saying, “Thanks. On my way.”
He had to go, and they weren’t going to resume their morning tryst.
She sighed mentally. He was no dummy. He would never let himself get maneuvered into a position like this again. It had been a great fantasy while it lasted to imagine having a relationship with him. Heck, she’d have been cool with just hooking up with him.
But she wasn’t destined for a man like him. And she could tell Bastien LeBlanc wasn’t the kind of man to let himself get trapped into pity sex twice.
She watched in disappointment as he rolled out of bed and moved over to the closet, pulling out slacks and a polo shirt and yanking them on with sharp precision.
He was going to go about his day’s business and think better of a fling with some chick implicated in an active police investigation. And even if he was a little bit attracted to her, his highly developed sense of ethics would no doubt kick in. And that would be that. No more fling with the hot detective for her.
She climbed out of bed, and that was when it hit her that she had no clothes. She had come here last night in her pajamas. She didn’t even have a toothbrush or a hairbrush. Staring around in dismay, she wasn’t sure what to do next.
Bastien paused in the act of strapping on a leather shoulder holster. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have any clothes. I don’t even have any shoes.”
“No problem. That call was the robbery unit guys calling me from Gary’s apartment. They’ve finished their examination of the place and want you to come over and see if you can spot anything missing. I’ll drive you back.”
Relieved, she headed for the bathroom and borrowed a comb she found in the medicine cabinet to semi-comb out her hair. She finally resorted to French braiding it and using a piece of dental floss to tie off the end.
By the time she stepped out, the nutty smell of high quality coffee filled the air, and she groaned with delight.
“I take it by that moan of pleasure you’d like a cup of my world-famous fresh-ground coffee with cinnamon and whipped cream?” Bass asked drolly.
“Ohmigod. That sounds better than sex.”
He shot back, “Then you haven’t had sex with me, honey.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he glanced up at her in chagrin. He mumbled something that might have been an apology, but she was too miserable to hear it properly.
Of all guys to actually develop a crush on, why, oh why, did it have to be a cop? A drop-dead, do-me-now cop who was investigating her? Sometimes the universe had a really lousy sense of humor.
He handed her a steaming cup of coffee mounded with whipped cream. She took a sip and died a little right then and there. “Good lord, this is incredible.”
Bastien muttered, “That’s what all the ladies say.”
She gave him a sidelong glance. She couldn’t resist flirting, even though she knew it to be futile. “In bed or out?”
“Ahh, darlin’. That’s for me to know and you to find out, now, ain’t it?” His drawl was thick as molasses and gave the lie to his flirtatious response. He was treating her like he treated all the girls. It was nothing personal. At all.
“Too bad duty calls,” she said. If only he would lift the mug out of her hands and set it aside before sweeping her up against him and kissing her until her knees wobbled like a toddler’s. She would love to taste his world-famous coffee on his world-famous lips.
She would bet he’d kiss her until she felt drugged. Yup, high on Bastien LeBlanc. There were worse fates in life. Too bad she wouldn’t get to experience any of them.
“Do you need something more substantial to eat before we leave?” he murmured as he moved even further across the kitchen from her with a reluctant l
ook on his face.
God. He must sense how pathetically needy she was and be repulsed by it. “No,” she mumbled. “I’ve had enough.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing, chère. I make the best omelet this side of the Mississippi.”
“Oh, really?” She added halfheartedly, “I may have to test that claim sometime.”
“It’s a date.” He scooped up a set of car keys from a board with two dozen sets of keys hanging from hooks on it.
She padded barefoot through the pristine workshop and into the second building, which turned out to be a storage garage at least as big as the shop. She gasped at the rows of gleaming cars and trucks parked side-by-side. He led her to a zippy looking little Aston Martin and held the passenger door for her. The car fit her petite frame to a tee, and she waited in anticipation to see how Bass would fold his big frame into the sports car. The seat looked pushed all the way back, and his shoulder nearly brushed hers, but he did, indeed, fit.
The small interior was intimate and sexy as the engine purred smoothly beneath her. If a girl sat just the right way, the seat would act like a vibrator against her nether regions. Crud. She clenched her butt cheeks and crossed her legs, denying herself the guilty pleasure.
Instead, she murmured, “Awesome car!” as he pulled out into the street and accelerated like velvet.
Bass grinned over at her, clearly pleased to show off his handiwork. “She’s a classic.”
“What’s her name?”
“Carlotta.”
“I thought Aston Martins were British.”
He shrugged. “A car’s allowed to have whatever name it wants.”
Taking in the meticulous restoration of the interior, she said more sincerely, “Well, I approve of Carlotta. She’s a beauty.”
Carrie sat back and enjoyed the ride as Bass handled the sports car with smooth confidence.
“How do you split your time between being a police officer and being a SEAL?” she asked.
“With difficulty.”
“Why?”
“SEAL missions don’t always come with a neat beginning and end. I’ve gotten stuck out in the field a few times and not been able to get home in time to work my police shifts. And now the NOPD wants to promote me to a supervisory job. But I can’t accept a management position and then run away to play soldier any time I’d like.”
“What are you going to do?”
A troubled look came over his face. “I don’t know. I love both jobs. But the day’s coming when I’m going to have to choose.”
She could see where two such demanding careers could come into conflict. Worse, though, it sounded as if the guy had no time at all for a personal life.
Disappointment speared through her—whoa. Wait. Why was she disappointed? It wasn’t as if she planned to settle down and be someone’s little Sally Homemaker. If she stopped moving, she would die. Literally.
They turned onto the street where she was staying, and Carrie gasped. “Why are there so many cop cars?”
Bass swore under his breath. “I was afraid of this,” he said grimly.
“What’s happened?”
“Gary’s disappearance has started making waves and has become a high-profile investigation. Everyone wants to get his fingers into it.”
Bass stopped among the cruisers that completely blocked the street. He contemplated the chaos in visible disgust while she wiggled her bare toes nervously, acutely aware of being in her ratty pajamas. She was going to have to walk through all of that to get to clothes. Well, crap on a cracker.
He pointed at an unmarked step van. “That dark blue van is the crime scene unit that’s been going over Gary’s place. That black sedan is the robbery unit guys. And the cop in that black-and-white is one of the other detectives from Missing Persons. Black Charger with the portable siren on top is my captain’s car. He’s here to make sure the rest of us don’t mess up, and maybe to get some face time if the news channels show up. He’s thinking about making a run at Police Commissioner.”
“The news might be here?” Carrie asked.
“Well, yeah.” Bass threw her a quizzical glance. “You’re the one who warned me this case could get media attention.”
“I can’t end up on television!” she exclaimed, alarmed.
“Why not?”
Lonnie Grange was why not. She’d fled him years ago and had been hiding from him ever since.
She was able to avoid answering when Bass dived for a parking lot down the street as one of the neighbors pulled out of a legitimate parking space. He got distracted parallel parking, and she jumped out of Carlotta as soon as the vehicle was fully stopped.
Bass hurried to catch up to her as she padded down the cold cement sidewalk. “You okay?” he muttered as they approached a cluster of uniformed cops standing in front of her house.
Hell, no, she wasn’t okay!
Dammit, he had to be all perceptive and aware of her moods, didn’t he? “I’m fine,” she lied.
She really didn’t want to talk with him about why she hated the idea of being on TV. Not to mention, she wanted actual clothes, her toothbrush, a hairbrush, and some shoes, in that order.
“Hey, Bass. What’s up?” one of the cops asked, looking back and forth between Bastien and Carrie. The guy clearly wanted an introduction, but thankfully, Bass merely placed a protective hand in the middle of her back and guided her through the crowd to her front door.
She paused on the second-floor landing to peer in through the open door to Gary’s apartment. The place was completely wrecked. She stared in dismay at the smashed furniture, ripped-open cushions, and drawers lying upended on the floor.
She ran up the last flight of steps, abruptly eager to get far away from Gary’s problems and save herself. It was selfish, and she truly was worried sick about him, but she also had no desire to get sucked into his drama and die. She hoped that didn’t make her a bad person.
Bastien followed her into her place and she retreated to the bedroom to dress and freshen up. She took her time, putting on more makeup than she usually did, and braiding small pieces of hair from her temples and pulling them back behind her head in a cute style before she finally emerged again. She needed her full armor if she was going to face the day she knew lay ahead.
He was still sitting in her living room when she stepped out. Note to self: I am a patient man. He looked her up and down with a look of appreciation that made every second of primping worth it.
“Going someplace?” he asked.
“After I talk with the crime scene guys, I’m supposed to do the setup shots for the haunted bed-and-breakfast today. I thought I’d go ahead and film the location’s background shots in hopes that Gary is found and can do the actual nighttime ghost shoot soon.”
Bass’s blue eyes darkened to the color of a nighttime sky. “I hope you’re right.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I’m not in the business of giving family and friends false hope. I’m sorry, but with every day that passes, the odds of finding your boss go down.”
A surge of fury rushed through her. “I don’t understand why this is happening!”
He moved close and she held her breath, hopeful he would draw her into his arms. He didn’t. Damn.
“Keep being strong for Gary. That’s the most useful thing you can do right now. I’m here for you whenever you need someone to talk to.”
If only she could, indeed, lean on him for support. This morning had been an anomaly, and he was already back to being the distant and professional cop. If only she could absorb a little of his calm assurance.
“Speaking of people to talk to,” he added, “do you have any family members who can come down here and lend you some moral support?”
“Not hardly. When I left home to go to college, it was with the understanding that
I was on my own and wouldn’t be back.”
“Trouble at home?” he asked quietly.
Not the kind of trouble he was talking about. She shrugged. “My parents just felt as if they only owed me and my brother eighteen years. After that, they cut us off financially. And in my case, that meant I cut them off emotionally.”
“Are you in touch with them at all?”
“We talk on birthdays and major holidays. They would probably welcome a visit from me, but I have no desire to go back.”
“Why not? What aren’t you telling me?”
Choosing her words carefully, she answered, “I left my hometown for personal reasons that had nothing to do with my family.”
“What reasons?”
“Persistent, aren’t you?”
He stared down at her expectantly. It was as if he was mentally compelling her to tell him the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
She stared back stubbornly, conveying her own mental response. Not. Gonna. Happen.
Their staring contest stretched out, and she sensed that he was never going to back down. She had to give him something or he wouldn’t ever break this staring contest.
“Fine. If you insist,” she huffed. “A friend of mine had a run-in with the law, and it didn’t turn out well. I flung around some big accusations before I left my hometown that would make it difficult for me to go back now. Satisfied?” It wasn’t a lie, but it was miles and miles from the full story.
Bass made a noncommittal sound like he still didn’t think he’d heard the truth. Of course, he hadn’t. Not by a long shot.
She turned and fled her apartment. It wasn’t noble or brave, but she simply didn’t want to face any more of his questions.
She charged down the stairs and went outside—
And stopped cold as she was barraged by people shouting at her. Cameras and microphones were shoved in her face, and behind them, the avid faces of reporters and photographers stared at her. She recoiled violently. What on earth?
“What can you tell us about the disappearance of Gary Hubbard?”
