by Hagen, Casey
“You said you’d wait before you looked it over,” she said, her voice thin.
“I lied,” he admitted.
“Do you do that a lot?”
“Lately.”
Chapter 4
The minute Evan’s lips traced over Blair’s cheekbone, she fell headfirst into lust with the man all over again.
Okay, so really she dangled over that edge the minute she’d seen him watching her from where he stood leaning against his car, but still.
She’d avoided that mouth before she went into the school for good reason.
He had this way of kissing her so thoroughly her head practically exploded from her shoulders. Whether it was light grazes across her skin with his mouth, or he held her face in his hands and devoured her, tasting her, tangling his tongue with hers all while his body vibrated with a barely restrained desire, like a stallion bursting free from its confines and ready to tear across an open field, mane flying in the breeze, he obliterated every last bit of willpower she had possessed.
God, she had wanted to set the stallion free.
But his hands would fall away from her and he’d take a step back, regret swirling in his eyes, and the stallion would disappear.
What the hell was holding him back?
Did he think he was protecting her virtue? Her heart?
Sex was intimate.
Kissing and caring, well, for her, they were more so. It didn’t get more personal than the melding of lips, the tangle of tongues, the sharing of breath.
Unlocking her front door, with his heat soaking into her from where he stood almost right up against her back, she wondered if they’d get through this investigation without blowing the roof right off her modest, two-bedroom condo.
They’d been so careful with one another up to this point. Never going to one another’s places, and meeting in public. At first she had thought he did it to be sweet and treat her carefully, respectfully even, while they got to know one another.
Then she had brought him to a family barbecue without telling him it was a relatively large event. He’d suffered through and made nice, but she’d noticed him leaning against the privacy fence holding a plate full of potato salad, his eyes angry and locked right on her.
It was the beginning of the end of something that hadn’t really begun in the first place.
But whatever unknown force had kept them apart then, it was no match for the danger forcing them together now.
She’d do good to remember that no matter what happened in the next couple days, this was temporary.
She pushed open the front door and went to take a step, but his fingers curling over her shoulder stopped her.
“Give me a minute and I’ll check things out first,” he said, letting his laptop bag slide to the floor beside him.
She leaned her back against the door, her hand behind her still wrapped around the doorknob. “This feels ridiculous.”
He stepped in past her, his eyes already searching even as he explained. “I’m sure it does, but look at what happened with your car. I’m just going to make sure windows are locked and everything’s intact.”
“So what do you want me to do, stand out here? What if the boogeyman jumps out to get me while you’re rifling through my underwear drawer?”
He shot her a cool glare over his shoulder. “I’m not so hard up that I play with lingerie, thank you.”
God, where did that come from?
“I’m sorry. I’m being a jerk. I know I’m being a jerk. I just—” she held up her hands, palms out, “I hate this.”
Stepping up to her, he hooked a finger around the one rogue lock of curls that kept springing free to aggravate the crap out of her and tucked it behind her ear. His hand lingered, his fingertips brushing her jaw. “I’m sorry. After today, there will be eyes on your place at all times and it’ll be fine, but for right now, I have to do it.”
“I know,” she said, scrubbing her forehead. “I’m just crabby. My head is pounding and hand to God, I’m ready to put on my pajamas, pour a glass of milk, and munch on a tube of raw cookie dough.”
He winced, and that capable mouth curled in distaste. “Well, that sounds, uh—disgusting actually.”
“Don’t knock the cookie dough. I’d guarantee most women have a vice. I have three. Barbecue from Stan’s, cookie dough, and sushi.”
“That’s the most terrifying combination of food I can possibly imagine,” he said.
“And delicious. Don’t knock it till you try it.”
He shook his head with a light laugh, the same laugh she’d heard from him the day she met him, making her heart pinch with longing and regret.
“Give me a minute, and we’ll see what we can do about that headache of yours,” he said, sliding a gun from a holster tucked into the back of his pants.
She stiffened as she watched him transform into, God, she didn’t even know.
A soldier.
Predator.
Something dark and dangerous.
Her heart raced. Her throat ran dry. The urge to run almost outweighed the pull of attraction as she studied the way he rolled the balls of his feet, making no sound, his shoulders bunched, his weapon drawn as if holding it were as natural as breathing.
He’d told her he had been in the military, but he didn’t say much beyond that.
His stance, the way he prowled, it told a whole different story. This wasn’t just a man who had been in the military, the military was in him to the core and second nature in everything he did.
She’d bet his time serving their country was at the heart of why he held back, but she didn’t dare ask him about it and really, it didn’t matter.
She was a job, and he’d walk away.
Out of reach to her, certainly, but one day, she hoped Evan found a way to open up and let someone in to love him and his scarred heart.
Minutes later, he reappeared, his gun sliding neatly in the holster at the back of his hip. “All good.”
“At least that’s something,” she said, pushing past him and heading straight for the kitchen.
“The place looks like you,” he said from behind her as she filled a glass with ice.
She’d bought the condo last year, and it had been a wreck as many properties were when they ended up in foreclosure. The carpets had been faded, threadbare in places, and covered in urine stains from neglected pets.
Dust, cooking grease, and food splatters covered the cabinets, some of which ruined the wood.
Her father had taken his two weeks of vacation and brought over a bunch of helpers each day, firefighters who owed him favors, some who wanted to get in good with the boss, and during that time, they’d overhauled the place right alongside her, one miserable project at a time.
With her tight budget, she’d searched Pinterest for DIY projects to spruce up the cabinets without replacing them. She’d found a rehab store that carried reclaimed items still in good condition and as a result her condo became a hodgepodge of unique pieces, giving the feel of stepping into a cottage in the woods rather than a condo near the beach with the raw woodwork, beams, and a rustic mantle over the fireplace.
She’d painted her cabinets teal with ceramic, daisy knobs.
And she adored every square inch of the space.
“How’s that?” she asked.
He shrugged, the telltale pink of embarrassment staining his cheeks as if he wished he hadn’t let the words slip. “Sunny and innocent.”
She snorted as water rolled over the cubes and she grabbed the bottle of Advil on top of the fridge. While he wasn’t entirely wrong, he made it sound almost like an accusation rather than an attribute. “You make me sound like Mary Poppins.”
Cocking his hip against the counter, he crossed his arms, the action leaving his muscles straining under the white cotton of his shirt.
“Would that be so bad?” he asked.
“No, but it’s highly inaccurate,” she said, popping two pills and swallowing them down.
&
nbsp; “I don’t know, you’re…nice.”
“Mmm, wonderful. I’ve always hoped a man would call me nice,” she said.
“It’s not an insult.”
She pulled the clip from her hair and tossed it on the counter. Sliding her fingers through the strands, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the relief of letting her thick curls hang free. Within seconds, the ache in her skull dropped a notch or two. “It’s not exactly a compliment, either. Women don’t dream of being called nice. Exotic, maybe. That would be a good one to call a woman.”
“But you’re not,” he said, his logical tone making her want to snarl.
Not that she would.
She shook her head and laughed. “Easy with those compliments, Clark. My ego might not be able to take it.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. And what do you mean by Clark?”
“Clark Kent. That’s how I see you,” she said as she rubbed at the knot where her neck met her shoulder. “It’s okay. I get it. I’ve always been the girl next door. The sweet one. The one your mother would want you to bring to church. Exotic. Sexy. Intriguing. They don’t apply.”
He slid the glass from her hands, turned it, and took a sip of her water from the very spot she had just placed her lips.
Damn him.
He might as well have been putting his lips on her with the way her body heated as she watched his throat work as he swallowed.
“Sexy and intriguing are completely different words and that’s where you’re wrong.” His amber eyes heated and locked on hers over the rim of the glass. “You have those in spades.”
Chapter 5
Evan sat on the carpet and took over the coffee table in the living room.
It had more surface area than the small, drop-leaf table she used in the dining nook tucked into the kitchen.
But really, it was the fact that the living room was the biggest area in the main part of the house and the walls had started closing in on him the minute he’d turned into a Nicholas Sparks character and started spilling his guts in the kitchen.
He needed to remember why he was keeping his distance.
He glanced around the living room, the gray couch with orange, teal, and purple pillows, the peacock painting over the fireplace, a flurry of colors shimmering in the light, it all screamed Blair.
Vibrant colors and a splash of happiness, walking into her house was like walking into a smile.
God, what the hell was happening to him?
He never talked like that or thought like that. But those parts of her he feared getting a hold of him, now surrounded him so much stronger here.
He’d ruin this.
He’d ruin her.
“Okay, I’m ready,” she said, returning to the living room. She’d kicked off her strappy sandals and from the looks of it, she’d scrubbed her face, leaving freckles and rosy pink cheeks behind.
He gulped.
Clark Kent, huh?
Maybe he looked the part, but the images flashing through his mind were not hero-like.
The pink cheeks would fade in a few minutes, but all he had to do was pull the strings tied at her shoulders held her sundress up and the fabric would fall away, leaving her breasts exposed to his hungry gaze.
To his mouth.
He’d devour her—tasting and savoring until those cheeks turned rosy once again and her breathing shallowed, leaving her panting.
Wanting.
How long could he hold out giving her pleasure before he’d have to take his own?
Ten minutes?
Twenty?
Or indefinitely as he used the pure torture of wanting, but not taking as a punishment?
His hand balled into a tight fist around his wireless mouse until he heard the plastic crack.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, good.” He shifted on the rug, but no amount of adjusting made enough room for the problem in his pants.
“Where do we start?” she asked, sitting on the couch next to him, her thigh bumping his shoulder.
Fucking hell.
“Tex already ran reports on the arsons your father investigated. Most of the culprits are in jail. One died in prison. One who has yet to be tried is on house arrest and is monitored electronically. He hasn’t stepped out of bounds since. So I’m thinking we focus on people your father knows, anyone who might hold a grudge.”
“Everyone loves my father,” she said, glancing over his shoulder at the report Tex had sent. “How did you get all of this?”
“We’re investigators.”
“But that’s not public information, is it?” she asked.
“No, it’s not. We have friends with skills who help out when time is of the essence. Like now,” Evan said. “Your father has a great reputation, but there has to be someone who has been upset with him at some point. A coworker, employee, neighbor…someone.”
“My dad is about as laid back as they get. No real temper to speak of. I mean, I don’t know where to start,” she said, wringing her hands.
He laid his hand over hers. “Hey, we’ll get there. I’ll ask specific questions and we’ll see where we end up.”
Normally, he’d plow through. Be logical. But he didn’t want to stress her and make this any harder than it had to be. Being here to make sure she was safe was the first priority. As for the rest, the bulk of it rested on his team.
“Did your dad have any favorite employees? A firefighter that showed some real promise?” he asked.
“A few. Not that he’d ever tell anyone in the department. When we were renovating this place, he had small teams of firefighters on any given day in here helping. Josh and Derek are his hardest workers. The first to step up, the last ones to go home, and always making sure everything is covered before they do.”
Evan’s chest tightened, his pulse quickened, and the muscle in his cheek jumped. They’d been in here. They knew the ins and outs of her place. “He brought firefighters in here to work?” Evan asked, doing his best to keep his voice neutral.
He picked up his yellow, legal pad and jotted down the names she had said.
“Yes, but they weren’t on the clock or anything. They helped on their days off,” she said, pulling her skirt down as she tucked her legs up under her.
He forced his gaze away, relieved that he found the willpower to do it. “Do you remember who helped?”
She pulled a pillow into her lap and picked at the fringe on the corner. “Sure, Josh, Derek, Kevin, Mark, Alex, and Luke, but Luke was only here for one day.”
“Why only a day?”
“He really only did it to be in my dad’s good graces. He’d missed a lot of shifts and technically, he probably should have been fired, but my dad gave him the benefit of the doubt.”
Evan wouldn’t. Luke had just hit the top of the list of people to check out. “You have last names for these guys?”
“Sure,” she said, taking the pen from his hand and jotting down the last names next to the list he’d made.
“Anyone else do any work on the place? On the A/C unit, plumbing, electrical maybe?”
“My dad’s friend brought in one of his guys to work on the electrical. The outlets in the kitchen were completely dead,” she said.
“Who’s the friend?”
“Rand Folsom. My dad met him fifteen or so years ago, shortly after my mother died. Rand lost his wife, too, and they’ve been fast friends ever since.”
He wanted to ask about her mother, to hear it from Blair herself, but that would bring them closer together.
The lines had been blurred enough.
So much so, although he wouldn’t admit it to her, he wondered if he might miss something because of it.
He needed his team.
He glanced at the time on the computer screen. He had hours before the guys arrived.
“How do you feel about Rand?”
“He’s a good guy,” she said as she rubbed her hands over her arms like someone warding off a chill.
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sp; He didn’t miss the way she shivered at the mention of his name. “And?”
“And what?” she asked, not meeting his eyes.
“Something about him makes you uncomfortable,” Evan said as he studied her.
She shrugged. “It’s not that there’s anything wrong with him, he’s just too eager sometimes, you know? Almost like he’s full of energy and jumps into situations to keep himself busy. He’s one of those guys that you can’t say no to. He’ll find a way to convince you to take his help even when there are some things you just want to do yourself.”
Which might be the way he copes with losing his wife. Or not. He might just be a guy who likes to keep busy. “Does he annoy your dad the way he annoys you?”
“Annoy is kind of a strong word, but no, my dad welcomes the help, and it gives him a chance to talk about my mom with someone who gets it.”
“Does he have any kids you could at least hang out with while you were growing up?” he asked.
“No, he said his wife, Carmen, couldn’t have kids. One of his big regrets. It probably has a lot to do with why he’s so eager to help me out. Kind of makes me feel sorry for him,” she said.
Because that’s the essence of who Blair was, always putting others’ feelings before her own.
Evan wouldn’t be one more person to add to that list.
Rand probably viewed her as a surrogate daughter. That explained the eagerness to help. “Has he always risen to the occasion?”
“Every single time,” she said.
They continued to talk for another two hours. He picked apart the places they’d lived, neighbors throughout the years, looking for anyone who might have wanted some payback, but came up pitifully empty.
He had to be missing something.
You took mine, now I’ll take yours.
Child for child? But nothing matched up.
He read through information that had come in from Tex and Dylan with her right there reading over his shoulder, something he usually hated, but the tickle of her warm breath tickling his ear and the faint scent of lilacs surrounding him took the edge off of his worry.
