by Rita Herron
He cradled her to him, letting her purge her anguish. “What will happen to Frank?” she whispered hoarsely.
“We’ll question him, take him into custody. They’ll probably serve time for murder.”
Another sob escaped her. “But Kelly, his daughter, she needs him…”
He tensed. “I’m sorry, Grace, but she’s at the hospital. They don’t expect her to live through the night.”
Sorrow mingled with her anger. Frank loved his daughter more than life itself, had done all of it for her. And now Kelly would be gone and Frank would go to jail.
And she had no one left.
She shivered as the boat slowed to a stop, then Bradford climbed out first. Parker helped her to stand and Bradford helped her onto the dock, then Parker jumped out behind her. Once again, he cradled her in his arms and guided her toward his car.
“I’ll wait here for the authorities to retrieve Carlos’s body,” Bradford said.
An ambulance screeched to a halt and two medics jumped out and hurried toward them.
“Check her out,” Parker said, leading Grace to the ambulance.
One of the EMTs began taking her vitals while the other handed her a blanket.
“How about you, sir?” the medic asked.
“I’m all right,” Parker said. “Just make sure she is.”
Parker stepped aside to talk to Bradford while the medics examined her, and she winced as they treated the gash on her head. But the entire time they checked her, she kept looking at Parker, thinking how much she wanted to be near him, how she’d almost died tonight and she didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening alone.
“We suggested she go to the hospital, but she refused,” one of the medics told Parker.
“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Grace said, although her voice still sounded shaky.
“Grace—”
“Please, Parker, I just want to go home, take a warm bath and rest, forget that this night happened.”
Parker nodded in concession. “We’ll need a formal statement, but you can do that tomorrow.”
She gripped his arm to steady herself as she rose from the gurney. “Fine, just not tonight.”
The medics insisted she sign a form stating that she refused hospital treatment, then left, and Parker informed Bradford that he was taking her home.
When they reached the car, he halted by the door and looked down into her eyes, his expression tender and concerned. “Are you sure you’re all right, Grace? You look so pale, and those bruises look pretty bad.”
“I’m all right, Parker. Please, just take me home.”
His eyes flickered with worry, but also with other emotions. Concern. Affection.
Desire.
Then he climbed in the car, started the engine and drove toward his house. She clutched his hand, her heart racing as they neared his cabin. She’d lied when she said she just wanted a warm bath and rest.
She wanted a night in Parker’s arms. In his bed.
A night of him loving her, one without cops or killers or questions.
A night of pretending they could be together forever, that he wouldn’t leave her as everyone else in her life had.
GRACE HAD been through a terrible ordeal. She looked fragile and delicate, as though she might break apart any second.
But even drenched in sea water with her hair a tangled mess, she was so damn beautiful that when she turned those needy eyes toward him, pure raw hunger shot through Parker, setting him ablaze.
He’d almost lost her tonight.
The mere thought brought a surge of panic again, and his hand tightened around the steering wheel. Thank God Carlos was dead and she was safe.
Emotions bombarded him as he parked, and they ran through the drizzling rain up to his cabin door. Grace shivered against him, and he pulled her into the crook of his arms and led her to the shower.
“Bath or shower?” he asked.
“Shower,” she said softly, then reached for his hand.
He hesitated, narrowing his eyes to study her, wanting to make sure he understood her silent request.
“Please, Parker, you’re cold, too.”
Her soft-whispered plea shattered any lingering reservations he had. Then she reached up and began to unbutton his shirt and he wasn’t cold at all, but so hot he thought he might combust. One by one she unfastened the buttons until his shirt lay open and she pushed it over his shoulders.
He touched her cheek, gently, moved by the fierce hunger in her eyes. No woman had ever looked at him with such desire.
But he was a scarred man.
His jaw tightened and he caught her hand in his. “It’s not pretty,” he said in a guttural voice.
The sweetest smile touched her mouth. “Don’t you know how much I want you, Parker? Nothing matters except being together.”
His heartbeat accelerated, pounding in his chest. “I want you, too, Grace. I have ever since you brought me back to life in the ER.”
A shudder tore through her, and he realized she was still cold. Or maybe trembling from her battle in the water against those weights. Carlos had been a sick, sadistic bastard.
He wanted to show her another kind of man.
Make her forget that Frank, the man she’d trusted all her life, had betrayed her, and now everyone she’d ever loved was gone.
He flipped on the shower water to let it warm, then began to undress her slowly, peeling away her clothes to reveal her slender body. Anger knotted his stomach at the bruises on her wrists and body, and he clenched his jaw, but she pressed a hand to his cheek, then kissed him tenderly.
“Make me forget tonight,” she whispered. “Please, Parker, let’s both forget.”
She didn’t know what she was asking. He lived his life dealing in pain and anger, not pleasure. But tonight he vowed to give her that gift.
And to give it to himself.
She slid her clothes to the floor and stepped out of them, and stood only in a pale pink bra and matching lace bikini panties. She was so strong yet so soft. So utterly feminine that his sex hardened and begged for her touch.
As if she’d read his mind, he claimed her mouth with his, kissing her while his hands worked at her bra. The garment fell at her feet, then she stepped out of her panties, and his body surged with need. His tongue danced with hers while she unfastened his jeans. At the sound of his zipper rasping, he thought he might explode. He pulled his mouth away long enough to shuck off his jeans and shoes and socks, then his boxers hit the pile with hers.
Her smile of pleasure drove the flare of hunger inside him to an intensity that bordered on pain. He wanted to take her right then and there, standing up in the bathroom with the steam floating from the shower and cocooning them into its mist.
But she shivered again, and the scent of the salt water in her hair reminded him that she needed warmth and tender care, not to be rushed by his savage needs.
So he took her hand, kissed her fingers, then led her into the shower. The warm water cascaded down her like rain running down a sculpted goddess, and he soaped the sponge and bathed her, gently touching every crevice of her body. She arched against him, giving him access, and smiling as her nipples budded beneath his fingers.
He couldn’t resist. He turned her around and rinsed her, then lowered his head and licked the pointed tips, sucking gently on one then the other.
“Oh, Parker,” she moaned. “That feels heavenly.”
He grinned, then lathered her hair, amazed at her beauty and that she was offering herself to him.
Then she gave him the same treatment, running the sponge over his body, pausing occasionally to kiss his scars. Emotions clogged his throat, then she bathed his hard length and he groaned her name, mindless with pleasure.
He grabbed her hand and pulled it away. He couldn’t stand any more. When he lost control, he wanted to be inside her, wanted to take her with him when he came.
PARKER’S TENDERNESS moved Grace in a way she’d never been
moved before. His hands on her skin felt exquisite, his mouth delicious, the hunger in his eyes so sensual she quivered. She wanted more. Wanted his mouth on her everywhere. Touching, tasting, exploring, driving her wild with passion.
And he complied.
They dried each other off, then he wrapped a big towel around her and carried her to the bed. She flipped down the covers and they fell into the sheets, a tangle of arms and legs and frenzied kisses that brought a moan to her lips.
Their mouths mated while he tortured her body with his fingers, twisting her nipples to hard peaks, tiptoeing across her breasts, down her stomach and into her heat. She spread her legs, welcoming him with a cry of pleasure, and he slid his fingers into her femininity, stroking and massaging her until she clawed at his arms for more.
His lips came next, exploring, tasting, licking and sucking her neck, her breasts, then lower until he dampened the insides of her thighs with his tongue and sank it inside her as he had his fingers. She cried his name, a maelstrom of emotions and sensations bombarding her. Euphoria washed over her in waves as her body convulsed against his onslaught, and her orgasm sent a kaleidoscope of colors dancing through her head.
How she loved this man. Had loved him ever since she’d first seen him fighting for his life in the ER.
How could she ever bear to lose him?
For a moment panic threatened to rob her pleasure, but she shut out everything but the joy of having his mouth and hands on her.
Her skin tingled as he rose above her and gazed into her eyes. His were dark, intense, heady with need, and she suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed knowing that hers probably revealed a wild, primitive passion that she’d never experienced with another man.
She wanted the night to last forever.
He grabbed a condom from the nightstand drawer, rolled it onto his thick length and thrust inside her. He was hard, big, so big that for a moment she thought her body couldn’t accommodate him, but he stretched her with his force. Her world spun another hundred and eighty degrees as he filled her, pulled out and thrust inside her again.
“Grace…” His guttural groan emboldened her and she ground her hips against him, wrapping her legs around his waist to draw him deeper inside her, clawing at his arms as he pounded their bodies together. He was intense, driven, more primitive than any man she’d ever been with, more man than she could take, but she did take him, all of him, and she loved every inch, every second, that he moved inside her, every sound he made as he joined their bodies, every touch of his hands as he jerked her hips up to fill her more completely.
Another mind-boggling orgasm shook her and he caught her cry of pleasure with his mouth, fusing them together as his own body spasmed with release. She clenched his hips with her fingers, holding him inside her, so shaken by the power of their lovemaking that a tear slipped down her cheek and onto the sweat glistening his skin.
She would never forget the night or the way Parker made love to her with his heart and soul. And even though he would probably leave her tomorrow, she would love him forever.
PARKER REELED with emotions and the intensity of his orgasm. He clutched Grace tightly in his arms, breathing in her scent, reveling in the fact that this woman had given herself to him without restraint.
And he had taken with a fierceness that vibrated down to his soul.
He never wanted to let her go.
But tomorrow they had to face reality. She’d be forced to confront Frank, relive the horror of knowing he’d betrayed her family in the worst way.
And he’d have to return to work. Forget that he cared for her, that for a moment in time he’d had the woman of his dreams in his arms.
She pressed a kiss to his chest and stroked his arm, and his heart squeezed. Bradford had found a way to keep the love of his life.
Could Parker possibly do the same—find a way to make it work with Grace so that he didn’t have to tell her goodbye?
Chapter Nineteen
They made love again and again during the night. Each time seemed more intense, more tender, more emotional.
Parker had never stayed all night with a woman. Had never had the desire to wake up with one in his arms. But when he awakened with Grace curled next to him, her hand pressed against his chest, her lips so close to his that he had to have another taste, he knew he had to try to make this relationship work.
She opened her eyes and gazed into his, and he thought he saw love shining back. His heart swelled, and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then kissed her cheek. She moaned and rubbed against him, and his body hardened again. He would never stop wanting Grace.
A smile lit her eyes, and she threaded her fingers in his hair and he melded her lips with his. A second later he’d kissed his way all over her body, then slid inside her once more. Together they rocked and stroked each other, the early morning sunlight casting a golden halo across her face as she came apart in his arms.
He moaned his own release, meeting her cry of pleasure with his own, then rolled her sideways into his embrace and pressed her head against his chest.
He hesitated only a moment, then murmured, “Marry me, Grace.”
She tensed, and he held his breath. “Grace?”
“Parker…”
He pulled back, looked into her eyes. They were lying face to face, their heads touching, bodies still slick with perspiration and the scent of their lovemaking. She couldn’t turn him down.
“Parker, I…love you.”
His breath whooshed out. “I love you, too.”
She closed her eyes, then a tear trickled down her cheek and she pulled away and sat up, dragging the covers over her breasts. Panic squeezed his chest. She was shutting down, shutting him out.
“But I can’t marry you, Parker.”
He reached for her, but she shook her head, and anger mounted on top of panic. “I don’t understand. You said you love me. I love you.”
“It’s not that simple.” Grace’s voice cracked as she stood and began searching for her clothes. The ones from the night before were ruined, so she plowed through her suitcase.
He vaulted off the bed and caught her arm, then forced her to look at him. “What’s going on, Grace? You can’t make love to me the way we did and then just walk away.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never slept with a woman and left the next day?”
Anger churned in his stomach. “Yeah, I have. But I didn’t just sleep with you. It was more and you know it, Grace.”
She bit down on her lip. “It’s not that easy, Parker.”
“Then help me understand,” he said between clenched teeth.
“I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved to the job,” Grace cried. “I vowed I’d never put myself through that agony again.” When she turned, turmoil shadowed her eyes. “I want a family, Parker. I want kids and a husband who will come home to me at night. One I won’t have to lie awake wondering if he’s dead or alive.”
Parker’s throat closed. “I’m sorry, Grace. I don’t know how to be anything else but a cop.”
She walked back to him then, pressed a hand to his cheek. “I know, and I wouldn’t ask you to leave your job. It’s as much a part of you as nursing is to me.” She paused, twisted her fingers together. “But I just can’t live with it, Parker. I wish I could, but I can’t.”
GRACE DRAGGED herself away from Parker while she could. Hurt strained his features, but she didn’t have the courage to retract her words. She’d barely survived her parents’ death and the loss of her brother—she wouldn’t be able to exist if she lost Parker to the job.
His phone rang, and she raced to the shower while he answered it. When she emerged, he handed her a cup of coffee, then ducked into the shower himself. Her heart sank at the memory of them bathing each other the night before. She would never get to see him naked again. Feel his arms around her. His body inside her.
But she’d have to go on. She always had…
The next two hours passed in a hushed daze a
s she and Parker drove to the police station, but she reminded herself she’d done the right thing.
“That call,” Parker said. “Kelly Johnson died during the night. Frank’s ready to talk.”
She nodded, grief for Frank’s lost daughter adding to the emotions churning through her as she entered the interrogation room.
Along with grief, guilt clouded his ruddy features. She wanted to hate him, to lash out at him with her fists, but all she could do was stare at him with pity and hurt.
“I’m sorry about Kelly,” she said quietly as she claimed a chair across from him. She had to sit—her knees were buckling too badly to stand.
“Grace, I’m so sorry.” Frank’s eyes teared up. “I don’t know what they told you—”
“The man who tried to kill me yesterday said to ask you about my parents’ murder. You and your friends.” She gestured toward Parker. “And Detective Kilpatrick told me the rest, that the three of you were taking bribes. That you hired Juan Carlos to kill me. I suppose he shot Bruno, too.”
He coughed into his hand. “He wasn’t supposed to kill you,” Frank said in a high-pitched voice. “Only scare you off from asking questions.”
“But you had my parents murdered. How could you, Frank?”
“It wasn’t me, not exactly,” Frank said, although guilt roughened his words. “I…was desperate back then. My wife was gone and Kelly’s medical expenses were sky-high, eating me alive. I…they were going to deny treatment, postpone one of her surgeries if I couldn’t pay. That might have cost her her life.” He coughed again. “So I did take money, and then I found the others were, too, and I guess it didn’t seem so bad. But your father discovered we were accepting bribes, and he threatened to expose us all. They would have sent me to jail and who would have taken care of Kelly then?” He dropped his head into his hands. “I couldn’t leave her all alone.”
“So you hired someone to kill my folks to save yourself?”
“To save Kelly,” Frank insisted. “And I didn’t hire them. I tried to talk to your father. I begged him, pleaded with him…” His voice broke. “But McKendrick was impatient. When I found out his plan, I tried to stop him, but it was too late.”
