Against the Wall

by Debra Webb

  Dylan was almost relieved when he spotted movement in Jana’s backyard. He’d walked the property, knew the motion-activated floodlights should come on any second, but the yard stayed dark. Nice. The intruder knew his way around the obstacles, did he? A confrontation gave Dylan a potential outlet for the bitter burst of anger that still accompanied thoughts of his past. He weighed his options and chose the up close and personal route. This had fun written all over it. He could burn off a little steam by kicking some butt. With the dome light of his truck turned off, he silently exited the cab and eased the door closed. Whoever was snooping around Jana’s house was in for a surprise. Dylan stayed low, skirting the glow of the street lamp as he crept into her backyard.

  Using the shadows, he paused and assessed the angles and options. His blood turned cold as he watched the intruder’s hesitant movements away from the house rather than toward it. The lookout, Dylan decided. The guy in the shadows was keeping watch for someone already inside. The two-or-more-man team must’ve approached through the landscaped yards behind Jana’s house. Damn it. He should have insisted on staying inside. Channeling his temper, he waited for the lookout to move farther away from the house before making his own move.

  Dylan seized an opening and rushed forward, intent on tackling from behind and pinning the lookout to the ground. The guy turned at the last second. Hands flew up in a block even as Dylan took him down.

  They rolled across the soft grass and Dylan clamped a hand over the lookout’s mouth, trapping the warning shout. As the bastard fought back, squirming and kicking, Dylan realized he was fighting a woman. Well, damn.

  Nails scraped his arm and came up to do the same to his face. He barely dodged the attack, but she used the momentum to roll him over. He caught her legs between his and twisted until she was under him again. Trapping her wrists above her head with one hand, he kept the other over her mouth.

  Her breasts heaved under his chest as she struggled for air. She bucked her hips to gain space to use her knees more effectively and he pressed her down with his body. A familiar scent, subtle and sweet, that he couldn’t quite place teased his nose. All her damned squirming was generating an irritating reaction from his body. What the hell was wrong with him lately?

  “Be still,” he growled close to her face. She stilled. He eased the harsh hold on her mouth enough to allow her to catch a breath and she tried to ram her head into his nose.

  “Stop fighting me.” He let his full weight sink onto her once more, felt her laboring for breath. “How many are inside?” he growled at her ear.

  Her body froze under him and her reply was muffled.

  “If you scream,” he promised, “I will make you regret it.”

  She shook her head as much as his grip allowed.

  He lifted his hand mere centimeters from her mouth, ready to catch the sound if she tried to scream.

  “Dylan.” She coughed. “Let me up.”

  Jana. His body processed the recognition faster than his brain. Hearing her say his name that way, a little breathless from the tussle and position, turned him rock hard in an instant. Mad as hell at himself, he scrambled off her. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

  “It’s my house,” she said, sitting up. “I wanted some air.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I saw... I thought you...” Damn it!

  “I get the idea.” She waved off his attempt to help her up.

  He cleared his throat. “The floodlights should’ve come on.”

  “I turned them off so I could have a little peace and, um, watch the stars.”

  “You should’ve sent me a text to let me know.”

  “I’ll remember that next time.” She turned on her heel and headed into the house. “I don’t have my phone with me, but just so we’re clear, I’m going inside and straight to bed.”

  “Good.” The images dancing through his head were all too damned good.

  “Are you coming?”

  Was that an invitation? She couldn’t possibly be saying what his body wanted to hear. Even if she was, he couldn’t accept. “What?”

  He heard her impatient sigh. “How can you be at your best if you’re sleep deprived and tackling random stargazers all night long? I should have thought of that. You can take the guest room.”

  “You said you didn’t want me in your house,” he countered. If he followed her in there he wasn’t sure he could keep his hands off her. He was fairly confident he could tempt her into something they’d both regret in the morning. The solitude of the truck would be as effective as a cold shower. “Set your security system and text me if you need air again.” He straightened his shirt. “I’ll be in the truck.”

  Jana watched him stalk away, her body tingling from head to toe. The sensation had nothing to do with the two glasses of wine she’d had or the cool November air. No, this effervescent feeling was all about her bodyguard.

  The word sent another tremor through her.

  She stepped back into her house and pulled the sliding glass door closed. Setting the alarm, she aimed herself deliberately toward her bedroom. Oh, the man was dangerous, but not solely in a protective capacity. If she’d been an intruder she had no doubt how he would’ve handled the situation. Quick and competent, an intruder would be dead or headed to jail by now.

  She could admire his skills, appreciate his dedication, and leave it at that. Yet, she wished for something completely inappropriate, completely beyond anything she’d ever wished for. She pulled off her t-shirt, catching his enticing masculine scent. Despite his best efforts, she indulged in a moment’s fantasy before changing into her nightgown. Dylan’s long, hard body had covered hers completely. His warm breath had caressed her cheek. It had been too intimate, once she’d realized it was him sprawled on top of her. She’d felt every part of him... she’d wanted... Good grief, she’d nearly kissed him when she’d recognized his voice. She’d told herself the reaction was merely gratitude that she wasn’t about to be raped or murdered, but that was only part of the truth. She’d wanted to kiss him. To feel that arrogant mouth on hers. To know if he tasted as hot as he looked and felt.

  She ducked her head under the covers and screamed into her pillow.

  She could not be attracted to him. Well, she was only human. Maybe it was time to cut herself a little slack. The man was sexy and confident. Being attracted was harmless as long as she didn’t embarrass herself by acting on it. Short-term flings with strangers had a tendency to grow teeth and bite back during a political career. This was why she’d been so careful and limited her social life. Following in her dad’s political footsteps was the long-term goal. Every carefully planned step was about getting there, and she couldn’t afford to become distracted now.

  Dylan was temporary, a professional doing his job. Growing up she’d thought she’d find a lasting love like her parents had shared. The kind of love based in commitment and respect as well as mutual devotion. So far, she hadn’t found that man. Gregory Atkins had the right pedigree, so to speak. He would make the perfect compliment to her political future as she would his—a fact he’d pointed out on numerous occasions. The problem was he didn’t incite the passion she remembered between her parents. He hardly incited any response at all. Had she been so focused on her education and career that she failed to notice anyone who might stir those feelings? She’d always been a good girl, but even good girls found their happily-ever-after, didn’t they?

  Not once had she dreamed of riding off into the sunset with a hot cowboy all too eager for danger. Maybe that was where she’d gone wrong. Jana groaned, aggravated with herself. She threw off the covers and rolled out of bed. Keeping the lights off, she stalked to the bathroom and splashed cool water on her face.

  Her dad always said a man was only as good as the company he kept and she needed to keep that in mind. She didn’t know anything about Dylan Parker, and she knew even less about his associates, beyond an obvious ability to keep her alive. There were far better ways to show he
r gratitude than lusting after him like he was Mr. Right Now.

  She tried thinking of him as a valued employee though the phrase would surely irritate him. Much as she tried to put him in that tidy box, Dylan wouldn’t stay there.

  After crawling back into her bed, she slept fitfully, her dreams peppered with hot, needy visions of a handsome blond cowboy with strong, capable hands and a cocky grin.

  But each one ended with her dead...

  Chapter Five

  Friday¸ November 16

  Having learned the hard way yesterday, Jana woke with her alarm and was up and ready long before Dylan knocked on her door. Hearing his truck pull into the drive, she opened the door as he came up the walk.

  “Morning,” he said, touching the brim of his hat.

  He wore the same clothes he’d had on last night, but his shirt was untucked and the scruff of his beard shaded his strong jawline. If she judged him by the men she associated with at work every day none of those things would be attractive, but she didn’t and they were. Undeniable desire swirled just beneath her belly button. He looked... rumpled and sexy and she needed to think about something else.

  “Hi. Come on in.” She hoped her smile came off as friendly, with no sign of the guilt she felt for having dreams about him. It wasn’t easy facing the man who’d starred in her fantasies all night long. “I was about to start breakfast.”

  She tried not to fidget as Dylan filled her foyer quietly looking her over from head to toe. Other than a few sore muscles and a bruise on her hip that didn’t even show yet, she was fine. Knowing she’d landed a couple of decent blocks, she was tempted to ask how he was feeling. She’d at least had the benefit of a comfortable bed.

  “Breakfast sounds great.” He shrugged off the backpack he’d looped over one shoulder. “I was hoping I could clean up first.”

  “Sure.” Just what her imagination needed, images of Dylan Parker naked in the shower. Or worse, those strong hands moving a soft towel over all that hard muscled terrain. “Second door on the—”

  “Left,” he finished. “I remember.”

  Of course he remembered. His line of work demanded an eye for details. She walked back to the kitchen resisting the urge to run. They were adults, capable of putting last night’s innocent mistake behind them. “Employee,” she reminded herself hearing the sound of water in the hall bath.

  She wasn’t sure which was more unsettling, imagining him under the shower spray, or watching him stroll into her kitchen a few minutes later with damp hair and a freshly shaved face. His white button down shirt was open at the collar, and the dark jeans, belt and boots completed the polished appearance. “Eggs?” she managed, recovering from a suddenly dry mouth.

  “Please.” He circled around the table toward the coffee pot. “You didn’t have to cook.” He helped himself to a coffee mug, filling it to the brim while he watched her serve.

  “It relaxes me,” she admitted.

  “Lucky me.” He brought his coffee to the table and sat down across from her.

  “Did you sleep okay?” Small talk felt like the polite thing to do.

  “Here and there.” He took a bite of the eggs and his eyelids drifted closed. “Wow. You need to relax more often.”

  She felt heat creeping into her cheeks at his heartfelt praise. “I’m glad you approve.” It felt so domestic watching him wake up with coffee and food she’d prepared. Slathering jam across a biscuit, she cut her wistful fantasy short. Almost in time to prevent that heat from settling in other places.

  As a senator’s daughter her entire life, she’d grown up under the microscope of society columns and social censure. Her relationships had been as thoughtfully cultivated as her education and extra-curricular activities. Her dad and stepmother had steered her toward intelligent, successful businessmen who understood the balance of perks and sacrifice involved with a political career. None of them had stirred her senses like Dylan. Maybe it was the bad-boy edge or simply the bizarre circumstances of their association. As unkind as it made her feel, she recognized that to some degree her reaction to him was about distraction. Whatever drew her to him, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t a candidate for romance and she wasn’t doing herself any favors daydreaming about the impossible.

  The funny thing was that none of the proper relationships had ever panned out. Not even the one she had hoped would, primarily because her dad had wanted so desperately to see her happy. Simply put, Gregory Atkins was wrong for her. She was very grateful she had recognized the mistake before making it. She hoped he would set his sights on someone new and give up his incessant attempts to win her back.

  Banishing Gregory from her head, she watched Dylan devour his breakfast. It wouldn’t be long before someone discovered she had a new man hovering near the house, and accompanying her to the office. The rumors would fly no matter the cover story in place.

  She reached for the coffee carafe and filled Dylan’s coffee mug. “When we’re at the house, I’d like to take some time with Camille.”

  “You two are close?”

  Jana nodded as she poured cream into her coffee.

  “No wicked stepmother tales?”

  “It took me a while to come around,” she admitted, remembering those early challenges. “I was a teenager, prone to angst and drama, and missing my mom.”

  “Understandable.”

  “To a point.” She couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “I was a brat about it. I didn’t want to share my dad. Camille was patient.” Jana sipped her coffee. “They both were. Camille eventually got it through my head that she wasn’t trying to replace my mom. She wanted to be a friend and confidant. She was the one who ushered me into the world of beauty pageants.” Jana shook her head as she recalled just how badly she’d wanted to run away at the time.

  One of those cocky grins slid across Dylan’s face. “Isn’t winning Miss Texas every little girl’s dream?”

  Jana rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t mine. I was a daddy’s girl and a total tomboy. Camille wasn’t giving up. She decided I needed a hobby so she called in the big guns.”

  “Big guns?” Dylan’s sipped his coffee.

  “Theodore Kingston, the miracle worker. He taught me everything about poise and presentation. He changed my life. Camille and I became friends, but it was Theo who became my confidant. We’ve kept in touch all these years. It was Theo who put me in touch with your agency.”

  “Theo’s a smart man.”

  Jana smiled. It felt good. “He really is. But, to answer your question, Camille and I are friends.”

  “That’s good I guess.”

  She shook her head. “No guessing required. She and my dad were happy. His death has left her reeling.”

  “I haven’t checked the news this morning. Did she challenge the affair rumor?”

  Jana shook her head. “Not that I’ve heard. I’ll mention it to her. The public needs to hear it from her.” She watched Dylan closely when he didn’t reply. “What are you thinking?”

  He held up his hands. “It’s standard investigative practice to look at the spouse first in situations like this.”

  “No one but you and I are looking at this situation as a murder. But it doesn’t matter.” Jana stood, taking the dishes to the sink. “She’s not a killer. She loved my dad.”

  “Good to know.” He followed her and gently nudged her away from the sink. “You cooked, I’ll clean.”

  “That’s silly. Finish your coffee.”

  He shrugged. “We’ll have to disagree on that.”

  She gave in gracefully, in the interest of self-preservation. When he was close, close enough for her to catch the whiff of soap on his skin and feel the warmth of his body, she wanted to get closer. “However we find Camille,” she said as she moved back to the table, “the goal is sifting through Dad’s study.” She gave herself points when her voice didn’t crack with emotion.

  Dylan shot her a long look. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

  She nodded. “I’ll h
ave to be.”

  “If it’s too much, I can take care of the search while you visit with Camille.”

  She appreciated the offer, knowing she’d given him good reason for the concern. “I want to do this.” Thinking of her stepmother, she added, “If it comes up, we’ll give Camille the university library line.”

  “Got it.” He set the clean skillet aside to air dry. “Any physical evidence of the murder is likely gone at this point.”

  “I’m certain,” she agreed. “As soon as the police released the scene, Camille had a cleaning and restoration service come in and take care of... things. She refused to leave the room until they were finished. She oversaw every step, and then she crawled back into her valium cocoon.” Jana tried to stop the scene from playing out in her mind, but it was no use. Thankfully, she didn’t envision the suicide scenario. Rather, in her head, she always saw someone pointing a gun at her dad. Someone she couldn’t see.

  “What do you hope to find?”

  Shaking off the ugly images, she went on, “The hate mail you want to see, for one thing. We’ll focus on his files and I’ll speak to Camille about fending off those rumors.” It sounded logical and gave her a reasonable plan of action. She would be fine. Logic and reason would prevail.

  Several minutes later, as he backed his truck out of her driveway, she realized she owed him an apology of sorts. “That first day,” she confessed, “you were right.”

  One eyebrow dipped low over his eye. “About?”

  “I’ve allowed my emotions to get the better of me,” she said. “I’ve been operating on those emotions and that was a mistake.”

  “You lost your dad,” he said. “That isn’t easy to cope with under normal circumstances. Your belief that his death was a homicide makes it even harder.”

  While she appreciated his understanding, she had to hold firm or she’d never get through this. “Still, I need to think clearly. It’s one of the things I was contemplating last night before you... arrived.”