by Unknown
JJ didn’t realize she was wringing her hands together, until Cam’s warm palm slid between hers.
He pulled her to a halt, tugging her around to face him. “Take a breath. Take a deep breath.” Cameron smoothed his hand down her arm, shoulder to elbow.
His breath was soft against her temple. “Don’t fall apart on me now, honey. You’re safe.” She’d already fallen apart…it hadn’t helped then, it wouldn’t help now. But she still felt fragile, like one good tap, and she might shatter. No, she was hanging on tooth and nail. It would take more than a few open windows and some pathetic letters scrawled on a mirror to send her over the edge again. Even so, it didn’t take a genius to realize she had, once again, stumbled into the sights of a demented psycho. Was she just genetically 201
Brenda Huber
predisposed to attract these brutal monsters?
“Excuse me, someone just broke into my home.
The bastard’s trying to play nasty little mind games with me. Don’t think for one minute I don’t know about the murders. For God’s sake, Cam, I’ve already lived through this once.” She slapped at his chest and bit down hard on the sob swelling up inside her throat. “I think that entitles me to fall apart. It’s my God damned right to fall apart, not that I’m going to fall apart, damn it. So don’t you tell me not to…”
Her words fell away as the sob finally got its way. Her hands fisted in his shirt. Her breath caught, hitched in and out. She pinched her eyes closed, willed the burn of tears to stay firmly locked away. Her lips moved, but only the tiniest shadow of a whisper emerged.
“Oh God, not now…not now.”
Cam laced his fingers into her hair, cupping the back of her head in his large, warm palm, pressing her face against his solid chest. His arm slid around her, and he drew her stiff form tight against him, firmly holding her there as she trembled like a leaf in the face of a twister. He caged her until the tension in her body eased and her own arms slowly crept around his waist. Only then did he loosen his hold, albeit marginally.
Seconds passed into minutes, and those minutes ticked by in silence as he simply held her, offering her a safe, protective harbor in the wild storm of her emotions. Finally, she drew back to look up into his face. Her cheeks were damp, as was his shirt.
He refused to release her. Emotion swirled in his heady gaze. Without a word, he lowered his head, capturing her lips with his own. His tongue swept inside without invitation, without apology.
Lips meshed, teeth scraped, tongues danced until her head began to swim.
202
Shadows
When he pulled away, they were both breathless. “I’m on duty tonight. I can’t stay—”
“I didn’t ask you to.” Slipping from his arms, skirting him, she paced the length of the room once more, raking irritably at the loose tangle of her hair.
Those emotions swimming in his eyes shook her, far more than anything else she’d encountered since she’d moved into this house. Instinct demanded she rely on herself, lean on no one. He may have slipped beneath her radar, and she wasn’t quite sure how to deal with him just yet, but she’d never allow him to dictate to her. This was her home now, and she was staying. End of discussion.
“I’m not leaving you alone, JJ.” Glaring at her now, he clutched his fists at his sides, radiating frustration.
“I’m not your responsibility, Cam.” He caught her around the waist midstride and swung her about until their noses brushed. His eyes burned into her with enough force to drive the air from the room. “You are mine to protect,” he snapped.
Okay, so he took his job seriously. Still, that didn’t give him the right to dictate to her in her own home. Unsettled, she lifted her palms, warning him to back off. He released her, but didn’t back up an inch. “Okay, look. I appreciate you’re trying to do your job, but I can take care of myself.”
“I’m not talking about my damned—”
“Look, if you want me to call you again the next time I have trouble, back off now,” she interrupted.
She had him over a barrel on that point, and, judging by the mutinous scowl on his face, he knew it. A long, tense moment passed between them, and he visibly stiffened.
“Fine.” He spat the word out, grimacing as if it had left an unpalatable taste behind. Whoever 203
Brenda Huber
taught him the finer points of conceding with good grace had failed. Miserably. “You can stay.” She scowled. How dare he? Grant permission, would he? Of all the stinking, obnoxious, conceited…
“I’ll be back as soon as my shift is over. I’ll replace all the locks on the windows and the doors…and I won’t hear a word about it. When I finish with that, I’ll work on your new porch.”
“My new porch…” she sputtered, completely lost now. What was wrong with her porch?
“You will barricade yourself in your bedroom.
You’ll sleep with your phone in one hand and your gun in the other tonight.”
She dragged in a deep breath, intent on letting loose a tirade at his overbearing demands. But he beat her to the punch. “I’ll increase patrols around this place. You’ll call me if you think you hear the wind rattle a window. You will call me if the house so much as settles too loudly.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips. He was beyond controlling. He was unbelievable. He was… He was just…
Ooooh…
She stifled the urge to stomp her foot. Just barely.
“You’d better get used to having me around, honey.” He leaned close, his eyes glittering with newfound purpose. “Because I’m not going anywhere either. You are mine to protect…and that has absolutely nothing to do with the job.” His lips seized hers, though he didn’t touch her anywhere else. That simple contact was enough to hold her immobile.
Awestruck.
The first few moments of the kiss were fierce, violent and consuming. Then, by slow degrees, his lips softened. The urgency was still there, but it was tempered now, soothed. He nibbled her lips. Lapped 204
Shadows
at her tongue. Moaning into her mouth as if he’d never tasted anything more exquisite. Abruptly, with a low growl, he withdrew.
“I’ll be back in,” Cam flicked a glance at his watch, “three hours and forty-six minutes. How ‘bout waffles this morning? I’m partial to blueberry.” Stalking to the doorway, Cam paused, turning back long enough to singe her with a long, heated glance designed to curl her toes.
And then he was gone.
She didn’t sleep a wink. She wasn’t stubborn enough to blame it on her nighttime prowler. No, she knew exactly who to blame.
The taste of him lingered on her lips long after the indignant anger cooled.
205
Brenda Huber
Chapter 15
JJ drained her third cup of coffee and wiped the toast crumbs from the counter. Waffles, my ass. He wouldn’t be getting a single bite in this house, not a nibble.
Curious, she’d poked her head out the front door after he’d departed last night—or rather earlier this morning—and gawked at the damage. He’d stomped a hole the size of a crater smack in the center of her precious porch. The big jerk.
Not a crumb.
Her hand hesitated in its circular wiping motion. In all fairness, the boards had been rotting, and she’d intended to replace them sooner or later anyway. She couldn’t help the tiny smile tugging at her lips over the memory of how he’d come bursting through the door, a brave knight charging in to slay her dragons. She really should cut him some slack, after all, he’d… volunteered…to fix the damage.
Heaving a sigh, her lips twisted in a wry grimace as she considered the black kitty-cat clock high up on the kitchen wall. Twenty-five minutes left until his promised return. Not that she’d been keeping track. Shaking her head, she rinsed the dishrag in the sink, wrung it out and draped it over the center divider. Why was she so impatient, so excited about the prospect of seeing him again?
; He probably won’t show up anyway.
She dug out a mixing bowl. He’d have to settle for Belgian waffles. She didn’t have any blueberries.
She’d pick some up the next time she stopped at the store.
206
Shadows
Not that she’d be making him waffles again, of course. These waffles were just payment for changing her locks and for coming so quickly when she’d called about the intruder. That was all.
Okay, so he could have a nibble. Where was the harm in a nibble?
Would he stop at the waffles, or would he nibble on her again? Never had she encountered a man who could use his mouth like that. One little kiss, and she’d been ready to beg.
God help her if he truly decided to press his suit.
She wouldn’t stand a chance.
On automatic pilot now, she drifted around the kitchen preparing the breakfast she swore she wouldn’t make, for a man she wasn’t sure she wanted to see. Sausage sizzled in a covered skillet on the stove. The coffeemaker hissed and chugged, brewing a fresh pot as JJ retrieved a carton of eggs from the fridge.
The man’s lips were a wonder. Where had he learned to kiss like that anyway?
JJ whipped the batter with excessive force, all but gnashing her teeth. He’d probably honed his skills on the local cheerleading squad. He’d probably played tonsil-hockey with half the women at college, the womanizer.
The memory of his glittering eyes stilled her hand. When he’d looked at her like that—like she were the only woman in the world…in his world—
she hadn’t been able to think straight.
When he’d claimed she was his to protect, with such fierce conviction…
A delicious shudder rippled through her.
She still couldn’t fathom the emotions that had surged through her at his forceful declaration. What would it be like if only it were true? What would it feel like to be the object of such devotion, such intense emotion?
207
Brenda Huber
JJ set the bowl on the counter in front of her with a tiny, wistful sigh.
She reached for a bottle of vanilla, and a large, warm pair of hands slid around her waist, a bristled cheek nuzzled the side of her neck. JJ jerked, biting back a scream. The hands held her fast, firm and unyielding, waiting her out, gentling her. His heat, his very scent—all too familiar for such a short acquaintance—comforted, even as it excited.
“Mornin’, honey,” he murmured, smooth and soft. “Smells scrumptious.” He nipped her earlobe, chuckling when she shivered. “Breakfast smells good, too.”
Her lips parted in surprise. She didn’t have the slightest clue how to respond to his comments. Then again, she often found herself in this state when he was around, speechless and floundering. Swiveling round, spatula in hand, she began piecing together a stern rebuke, but her reprimand died a quick and painless death as her gaze slid over his face.
He was tired. Dark shadows lingered beneath his eyes. His skin was pale. His hair was damp, the honeyed edges curling at the nape of his neck. He must have stopped at home for a shower and change of clothes. His jeans and T-shirt were fresh, and oh-so-sexy.
He was dead on his feet, and still he’d come.
Her heart melted…just a little.
“When was the last time you had a decent night’s sleep?”
He’d released her when she’d twisted round to face him, but he hadn’t stepped back. Settling his hands on her hips, he shot her a rueful smile…one that lacked his usual vibrant devilment. “Not since the day you came to town, honey.” A disgruntled compliment if ever she’d heard one. Yep, speechless and floundering.
208
Shadows
Unable to help herself, she reached for his face, her palm cradling his cheek. What a strange sensation, the gritty texture of his whiskers where they pressed against her sensitive skin. His brow winkled for a moment, then eased. His eyes glowed from within, lowering to her lips.
With excruciating slowness, he lowered his head. His lips claimed hers. Not with heat, though it was there, sparkling just beneath the surface. No, this was a warm homecoming. A tender meeting of desire and comfort. His hands crept around her waist, easing her closer. No force, no coercion was needed. She melted into him, boneless, pliant. She started to sink without a fight, but he ended the kiss on small, nibbling pecks. Instead of drawing back, as she’d expected, he pressed her head to his chest, resting his cheek on the crown of her head, holding her as if she were a precious package, a priceless treasure he’d guard with his life. Her arms slipped around his waist, tentative, testing.
Wonderful.
She snuggled closer, content to just be.
The sausage crackled, popped, and she eased back, reluctantly. Pressing her palms to his chest, she urged him to sit at the table. “I’ll get you a plate.
I made coffee, but you look like you need a pillow instead.”
“Coffee please, black as tar. I’m gonna need broomsticks to prop my eyelids open at this rate.”
“You should go home, get some sleep.”
“Too much to do.” He smiled gratefully as she slid the loaded plate before him, then he frowned at the tall glass of orange juice she set down next to it.
“Coffee will keep you up, and you need to rest.” He wasn’t the only one that could be stubborn.
“When you’re finished eating—since you won’t go home to sleep—you can take a nap here.”
“But the locks—”
209
Brenda Huber
“Will wait…” Unsettled by the utter domesticity of their interaction, she spun away to tend the dirty dishes as he dug into a small mountain of waffles. A casual observer might mistake them for a couple.
No. It wasn’t like that. They hardly knew each other.
And yet…
She bit down on her lower lip and set to scrubbing the little blue flowers off the mixing bowl.
A short while later Cam’s chair scraped across the linoleum as he pushed back from the table. He carried his dishes to the sink, sank them into the soapy water, and dropped a kiss on her temple.
“Thanks for breakfast, JJ. You’re a damned good cook, in case I forgot to mention that. You must have taken the old saying seriously.”
“What saying would that be?”
“About the way to a man’s heart.” She whipped her head around to challenge his assertion, but his lips swooped down to cover hers, stealing her head of steam, robbing her of her breath. Robbing her of every thought in her head.
“Are you sure you don’t mind if I crash here for a while?”
“Ah…” He tasted of like maple syrup and orange juice. It took a moment to regain cognitive ability.
“Positive. Go, lay down.”
“Don’t let me sleep too long.”
“Do you have to work today?”
“No, I’ve got a couple days scheduled off. Though given the situation down at the office, I probably shouldn’t be taking them right now.”
“You’re no use to anyone if you collapse…go…sleep.” She shooed him from the kitchen.
Once she’d finished with the dishes, JJ tiptoed into the living room. Cam lay stretched out on the long couch. He’d tucked his boots beneath the edge of 210
Shadows
the couch. With one arm flung above his head, the other draped across his chest, he slept like the dead.
His face softened in repose. His lips were slightly parted—his breathing deep and even. She snagged her lip between her teeth as tender emotion swelled.
JJ retrieved a warm throw and draped it over him, tucking him in. She couldn’t resist slipping her fingers through the stray shaggy lock of hair feathering over his brow. With infinite care, she eased the hair from his face, relishing the texture of each silky strand against her skin. Bending, she brushed a fairy-light kiss over his cheek. Then she crept from the room.
Collecting her gardening tools, she wandered into the side yard. Despite the d
ull throb in her temples and her poor night of sleep, the day looked promising. The air was fresh and crisp, the sunshine bright and warm. Yes, it looked to be a fine day indeed.
****
Cam yawned and stretched. The scent of JJ
surrounded him, and he smiled, sitting up. As he did, a warm, soft blanket fell from his shoulders.
She’d covered him up. Warm fuzzies blossomed in his chest. He leaned back against the cushions, uttering a soft, shocked oath. His splayed hand rubbed at his chest, just over his heart. Warm fuzzies? Him?
When the hell had that happened?
Shaking his head, he reached for his boots. A quick glance at his watch told him it was pushing noon. He’d slept a solid six hours. Again, something new for him. He was a light sleeper, one who had trouble drifting off and who woke frequently. On the average, he was lucky if he could string together more than three hours at a time. And here he’d been, passed out—dead to the world—for just over six hours. Unbelievable.
211
Brenda Huber
He pushed to his feet, rested and mellow, and made his way to the kitchen. The sink was empty, the counters spotless but for JJ’s half-empty mug of coffee. He ambled forward and reached for the mug.
The flowery painted ceramic was cold. A congealed, creamy skin coated the top of the liquid. He stood motionless, closed his eyes and listened. He could detect no sound from within the house. His brow wrinkled, and he strode for the door.
A quick search of the yard brought him up short.
Freshly turned dirt in two flowerbeds, and a pile of limp weeds near the shed indicated how she’d spent her morning while he’d been playing at Sleeping Beauty. A small hand spade and trowel glinted on the bottom step of the back porch beside a dainty pair of dirt speckled gardening gloves.
“JJ?”
His bellow echoed through the yard, unanswered.
Damn it. He rounded the house, cursing aloud when he spied her Jeep parked beside his truck.
Where the hell was she? Lifting his nose to the wind, he drew the morning in. A myriad of smells assailed him, the flora and fauna of the woods, the freshly worked earth, the recently clipped grass. And there, just at the surface hovered a trace of her. Just a trace. Faded with the day, and impossible for him to track in his current form.
