by Linda Turner
Preceding Grant inside, Katie stopped abruptly, alarm bells clanging in her head as every male in the place took a slow inventory of her assets. She shrank back against Grant. "I think we're in trouble," she murmured, noting the drunken state of most of the bar's customers. "Big trouble."
Scowling, Grant slipped a possessive arm around her waist and pulled her close, the glint in his blue eyes daring anyone to approach them. "Don't move from my side," he warned her softly and urged her toward the only empty table at the back of the room.
He gently pushed her into a chair and then took his own and dragged it close. His thigh slid flush against hers. Staring into her startled eyes, he draped his arm across her shoulders and let his fingers skim over her hair. His touch all but shouted Mine to every man in the room.
The waitress appeared, but Grant never took his eyes from Katie. "Two beers," he said without looking up, and continued to play with her hair.
Her thoughts scattered, every nerve in her body centered on the feel of his hands on her hair. Stroking. Caressing. Seducing. Her heart thundered in her ears, anticipation like wine in her veins, drugging her. He was doing it again, she thought, taking control of the situation, taking control of her, with maddening ease. This had to stop!
She stiffened, her exhaustion vanishing abruptly. Her eyes narrowed warningly. "I presume this is another part of the charade we're playing," she said silkily.
"Um-hmm," he agreed, and moved closer.
A pulse thundered in her throat, but she didn't pull away. "Are you always this comfortable with charades?"
"Some are easier than others. Am I making you nervous?"
"Of course not!"
"Good." Fascinated with the delicate rim of her ear, he skimmed his finger across it over and over again.
Katie wanted to melt. Horrified, she whispered, "Will you stop that!" and darted a quick glance around the room. A dozen male eyes were still watching their every move. "Everyone's watching!"
He was stunned to realize that he wouldn't have cared if they were in the middle of Grand Central Station. The thought momentarily cleared his head. He was playing with fire and they were both in danger of getting burned. But that didn't stop him from tightening his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. "Then let's give them their money's worth," he growled softly into her ear. "We don't want them making any mistakes about who you belong to."
Her eyes flared at that. "I don't belong to any man."
He chuckled. "Damn, you're touchy. I'm just trying to save you from these yo-yos who are ready to devour that beautiful body of yours. Of course, if you don't want my help…"
Katie's heart jumped into her throat when he started to withdraw his arm. "No! No, it's not that!" How could she tell him she'd never reacted so strongly to a stranger in her life and she didn't know how to handle it? "I—" She sighed in relief as she spotted the waitress heading toward them with their beers. "Thank God! Here comes our waitress."
Two full mugs were set down on the table with a clunk, and it was all Katie could do not to gag at the sight of them. She'd seen and smelled and sipped at enough beer tonight to last her a lifetime. She turned her attention to the waitress and gave her a smile. Quickly and concisely, she told her of the man they were looking for. "Do you happen to know anyone by that name?"
The girl, who was hardly more than twenty, hesitated. Her black onyx eyes shifted from Katie to Grant and back again before she finally shrugged, her face deliberately blank. "Maybe. Maybe not. We have a lot of customers."
Adrenaline shot through Katie like a rocket. The girl knew something, she was sure of it! But one look at her set face convinced Katie she'd never admit it. Hurriedly taking a business card from her purse, she scribbled her home phone number on the back and slid it and the money for the beers across the table. "If you see him, would you give him my card and ask him to call me, please? I just want to talk to him. Okay?"
For an answer, the girl only picked up the card and money and deposited them in her skirt pocket. Without a word, she turned and walked back to the bar.
Katie stared after her. "What do you think?" she asked as she turned back to Grant.
He shrugged. "She took the card, so that's a start. All we can do now is wait for him to call." He pushed back his chair and grinned at her. "Ready to go home or do you want to stay till this place closes?"
"God, no!"
She jumped to her feet and headed for the door with Grant right behind her. But she'd taken no more than half a dozen steps when a tall, heavyset man suddenly moved in front of her, cutting her off. "Hey, you're not leaving now, are you, baby?" he drawled, leering at her through bloodshot eyes. "It's early yet. Stay and have a dance with me."
Katie stopped short, wincing as his stale breath washed over her. Just the thought of his hands on her was enough to make her skin crawl. "No, thank you," she said coolly and stepped around him.
It was the wrong move. In the next instant, his fingers were clamped around her arm, biting into her skin as he whirled her to face him. "You got a problem with dancing with me?" he snarled.
Her heart in her throat, Katie felt herself break out into a cold sweat. Silence fell over the bar, and suddenly the thick tension that crept out of the dark corners was ugly and dangerous. Not a soul moved. From out of the hushed quietness, Grant's voice was soft as a whisper and as deadly as a switchblade. "Let her go. Now."
The drunk's eyes turned mean, his grip on Katie's arm tightening ever so slightly. "Mind your own business," he growled. "This is between me and the lady."
"The lady is my business," Grant returned in a voice as smooth as silk. Stepping closer, his gaze dropped to the cruel fingers that held Katie prisoner. "Don't make me say it again. Let her go."
Or else. The words all but hung in the air. Everyone in the bar held their breath, waiting for violence to explode. A minute passed. A hard ball of fear settled in Katie's stomach. Grant was outnumbered by at least twenty to one. If the drunk decided to fight, they'd probably never get out of the bar alive.
"C'mon, Miguel, let the lady go," a voice suddenly teasingly called from the back of the room. "She's too skinny anyway."
For one wild moment, Katie thought the man was going to ignore his friend. Then his black eyes ran over her assessingly, and with an abrupt movement, he pushed her arm away. "He's right," he told her. "I like a woman with some meat on her bones. Find somebody else, lady."
The tension shattered in a roar of laughter. A man at the bar pounded Miguel on the back and proposed a toast. Grant didn't wait to see more. Tugging Katie through the crowd, he pushed open the door.
"Thank God you're skinny!" he said grimly, pulling her outside with him into the fresh night air.
* * *
Chapter 4
« ^ »
Without asking if she wanted to drive, Grant took the wheel and threw the car into reverse. The tires squealed as he backed out of the parking space in front of the bar. Katie opened her mouth to protest but shut it with a snap after one look at his set face. In the light that rolled into the car from the street lights they passed, she could see that his eyes were as hard and glittery as diamonds, his mouth was pressed in a flat, angry line, and his jaw was clenched. Silently, she grabbed her seat belt and buckled it, all the while watching him warily. He was in a towering rage, and instinct warned her it was only a matter of time before the tight rein he held on his temper snapped.
It seemed to take forever to reach her house, though Katie knew it was only a fifteen-minute drive. The minute Grant pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, she was out of the car and hurrying up the front steps. From the living room, she could hear the beat of a music video playing on the T.V. Ryan was still up.
"Katie, I want to talk to you."
Grant's low voice came from directly behind her, stopping her before she could step inside. She stiffened. They were both tired, on edge, and still feeling the effects of the confrontation in the bar. She'd do them both a favor by going
inside and postponing this discussion until morning, when they were both thinking a little more clearly. "It's late, Grant," she sighed. "We can talk—"
"Now," he cut in smoothly. "I'm changing our strategy. I don't know if we hit pay dirt or not with that last waitress, but even if we didn't, you're not going in any more bars looking for Leo."
Stunned, she whirled. "What?"
He knew he was handling her all wrong, but he couldn't forget the sight of her face when that drunk had grabbed her. The man could have crushed her in his hands, and it was all his own fault. He should have followed his instincts and not allowed her to accompany him at all. Instead, his efforts to protect her had only made things progressively worse. "You heard me," he said flatly. "No more bars."
"And who gave you the right to make decisions for me?" she demanded. "I'm working with you, Grant, not for you."
Damn, she knew how to push his buttons! He felt the fury rising in him. Didn't she know how close they had come to being involved in a major brawl? The scene could have turned dangerous just as easily as it had turned humorous, and then where would they have been? Probably on their way to the hospital by now.
"I'm not going to argue with you about this," he retorted coldly. "I've already made up my mind."
Outrage nearly choked her. So he'd made up his mind, had he? The nerve of the man! If he thought she was some spineless jellyfish waiting around for a big, strong man to take charge of her, he was in for a shock!
She stepped closer, her eyes shooting daggers at him. "If you don't want to go into any more bars, then fine, you can stay at home," she snapped. "But I'm a reporter and just as much a part of this investigation as you are. If I have to go into a dive to track down a story, then I will. And you're crazy if you think you can stop me."
The taunt slapped him in the face and snapped his control in one fell swoop. Quickly eliminating the distance between them, he snatched her to him. "Damn it, woman, are you blind?" he thundered in a low growl. "When that man grabbed you tonight, he wasn't grabbing a reporter. He didn't give a damn about your profession. He was after a good-looking woman. A woman he wanted to touch, to kiss!"
His gaze fell to her mouth, searing her, and suddenly the heat between them had nothing to do with anger. Katie felt her throat go dry. Her hands pushed at his chest. "Grant, no!"
"Yes, damn it," he said thickly. "We've both been wondering about this ever since we met. It's time we found out what we've been missing."
With that, he gave in to the hunger that had been twisting his gut in knots from the moment he'd first touched her. As he buried his hands in the dark cloud of her hair, his mouth came down hard and demanding on hers.
The tension that had been building all evening exploded with a white-hot flare of heat. Katie told herself that if he hadn't surprised her, she would have easily resisted him. She told herself that if he hadn't been so much stronger than she, she would have slipped free of his arms. But as he gathered her closer and kissed her as if she'd belonged to him since the beginning of time, she knew she lied to herself.
She wanted to fight, to struggle, to stand in his arms without feeling anything. But dear Lord, how he made her feel! His tongue traced the curve of her lips, tasting, savoring, sending hot, liquefying pleasure through her veins. She couldn't think, couldn't move. Her heart pounded. On the edge of her awareness, she knew Ryan was just on the other side of the door in the living room; he had to have heard the car when they drove up. He could step outside any moment…
But then Grant nipped at her bottom lip, demanding entrance to the dark secrets of her mouth. Her thoughts blurred, her mind filled with nothing but him. She sighed into his mouth and was lost.
Passion gnawed at Grant at the taste of her surrender. He groaned and dragged her closer, wants and needs he couldn't begin to name tearing at him. She was soft, so damn soft, her mouth and tongue now as greedy as his, her body pliant against his. The teasing, alluring scent of honeysuckle swirled around him, seducing him, dragging him down to a sweet madness that began and ended with her. Had he ever wanted a woman this much?
Tearing his mouth from hers, he ran his lips over her face, breathing in the silky texture of her skin, memorizing every delicate curve and line of her features. But it wasn't enough. How could she push him to madness with nothing more than a kiss? He clutched at her roughly as reason began to slip away.
She felt his fingers at her hips, her waist, sliding up her ribs, and cursed the clothes that denied her the feel of his skin against hers. His hands, she thought dazedly. She wanted his hands on her. Everywhere.
The thought slipped through the fog that enveloped her and set off an alarm that echoed warningly in her ears. She frowned, not wanting to think when feeling was so wonderful, but suddenly her mind was clearing. Awareness ripped aside the curtain that clouded her common sense. What was she doing? she cried silently. The need burning in her was too strong, too hot, too soon. How could she have let things go so far so fast?
She stiffened, gasping for breath. "No!" she choked, pushing suddenly out of his arms. "No, I don't want this!"
He scowled, his eyes dark and brooding, his blood still hot. He could change her mind, and they both knew it. But he'd be making a hell of a mistake. Every time he touched her it was harder to let her go. She was a distraction he didn't need or want, not when they were hunting a killer who would see them both dead if they made even one mistake. Still, he couldn't stop himself from fixing her with a hard stare that wouldn't allow her to walk away from him easily. "You sure that's what you want?"
What she really wanted wasn't acceptable, so she nodded, her fingers curling into fists of denial. She struggled for a coolness that would convince him that the only thing between them was business. "We're working together, Grant. That's all. I'm not looking for a lover."
"Does that mean you already have one?"
"No, I—" She broke off, glaring at him. She wasn't about to get into a discussion with him about her love life! "What it means is I'm not interested in anything but finding Sam's murderer. I'd appreciate it if you'd remember that." Without another word, she turned and stormed inside.
At the sound of the door opening, Ryan tore his attention away from the T.V. screen and turned to see his sister hurrying toward the stairs. He grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes. "You missed your curfew," he said with mock sternness. "What happened? Have a flat tire?"
It was an old joke between them, one that had started when Ryan had begun dating. He'd insisted that what was good for the gander applied to the goose, and if he had to have a curfew, so did she. They'd teased each other about it ever since, but tonight, Katie was in no mood for jokes. She started up the stairs. "No, I just didn't realize it was so late. I'm going to bed. Good night."
She disappeared upstairs without another word. Frowning, Ryan glanced over his shoulder as Grant stepped inside and quietly shut the front door behind him. It wasn't like Katie to escape to her room like that unless she was upset. "What's wrong with Katie?" he asked bluntly. "You two have a fight?"
Grant swore silently at the younger man's perception. "Actually it was a difference of opinion," he hedged, searching for an explanation that wouldn't arouse Ryan's suspicions. He strolled over to the couch and dropped onto it, stretching out his long legs. "She had to go to the barrio for a couple of interviews, and I told her she took too many risks just to get a story. She didn't like it."
"I'm surprised she didn't flatten you," Ryan chuckled as he threw his lanky body onto the love seat across from Grant. "Katie likes to think she can take care of herself."
"Tell me about it," Grant muttered. "I wanted to, throttle her." And I kissed her senseless instead, he silently added, scowling at the effort it took to deliberately banish the taste of her from his mind. "She went in places tonight that would have intimidated a linebacker. Isn't she afraid of anything?"
"Cockroaches," Ryan retorted, his blue eyes dancing. "The big ones that fly."
Grant's lips twitched. "Yo
u've got to be kidding."
He shook his head. "Nope. She hates them. Comes unglued every time. But the devil himself could stand in front of her and she wouldn't bat an eye." He stared down at the toes of his battered hightops. "I used to worry about her, you know," he confided gruffly. "It's been just the two of us for so long and if something happened to her…" He swallowed. "Then I realized that she might be gutsy, but she's not stupid. She'll do a lot of things for a story, but getting herself killed isn't one of them."
"So you're telling me I shouldn't worry about her?" Grant said softly. "She really can take care of herself?"
"Yeah, except—"
"For cockroaches." He grinned wryly. "Thanks, I'll try to remember that."
* * *
Upstairs, Katie paced restlessly. The pale pink cotton nightshirt she'd changed into swirled around her thighs as she turned from the bed and moved to the window. The moon was high in the dark sky and almost full, spilling a romantic glow over the night, but she was in no mood to appreciate it. Frowning, she hugged herself, cursing the still agitated beating of her heart. Damn Grant Elliot! An hour ago, she'd been so tired, all she'd needed was a place to lay her head and she could have slept the night away. And now she couldn't close her eyes without seeing him standing before her, reaching for her, touching her, kissing her.
Heat curled into her stomach. With a muffled oath, she whirled away from the window. This had to stop! she told herself furiously. She'd been kissed before, for heaven's sake, and she'd never lost any sleep over it. So what was it about Grant's kiss that made her tremble? Sinking down into the white wicker rocker that had been her mother's, she closed her eyes. Heat surrounded her as she remembered how the strength of his hands had made her helpless, though he'd done no more than hold her. And the need. Dear God, how could she ever forget the way he had needed her, the way he had made her need him? It was a need that mocked reason and transcended time.
Somehow she was going to have to learn to deal with it, she decided reluctantly. But not tonight. Not when the memory was so fresh that she could still smell his scent on her skin. Not when her body still ached for more than a kiss. She rose determinedly to her feet and headed for bed.
