Edgar hadn’t been on duty when she was shot, but he’d been as distraught as Murray, the morning guard. She tried not to think about that day, but as she waved good-bye to Edgar, she paused by the front doors. Those were bullet-proof, but Erin had been outside when she’d been shot.
Shaking off the thought before she stepped outdoors, she gripped the handle—and froze, suddenly unable to push open the door, let alone walk through it. Though she’d promised herself not to give in to fear, ever since the shooting, a simple walk through the parking lot was more traumatic than she’d like to admit.
“Erin?”
From a distance, she heard Cole’s deep voice calling her name, but all she could hear was the chirping of birds that fateful morning and the popping sound of the rifle.
Dizziness assaulted her and dark spots danced before her eyes. Mentally, she was back in the moment, and not even the knowledge that it wasn’t happening now helped her move. Without warning, her knees buckled beneath her.
Strong arms lifted her, and when she finally focused, she was wrapped in warmth, protected by a hard male body and enveloped in a purely masculine scent that triggered memories of a night she couldn’t forget.
“Cole?” She blinked up at him, surprised to find his face so close, his lips near hers. Concern and worry marred his handsome face.
“You okay?” he asked.
He’d obviously caught her before she passed out and had taken her to a private corner of the lobby. “I am now.” She fought off the embarrassment of nearly having fainted, instead appreciating the safety she felt in his arms.
“Panic attack, huh?” His serious gaze never left hers.
She shrugged. “I guess.”
“I know.”
The certainty in his tone intrigued her. How was he so sure this wasn’t pregnancy- or nausea-related?
“Miss Erin?” Edgar’s voice sounded from above her, interrupting before she could ask Cole that question. “Are you okay?” the elderly man asked.
“She’s fine,” Cole said gruffly.
“Can I get you something?” Edgar asked.
Erin nodded. “Water would be great. Thank you.”
“Be right back.”
Cole refocused on her. “Dizziness better?” he asked.
“Yes.” She ran her tongue over her dry lips, noting he hadn’t made a move to shift her out of his lap. And given that once she moved, she’d lose his warmth and security, she wasn’t in any rush.
“The open parking lot scares me,” she said softly.
“Jesus,” Cole muttered at the admission, his arms tightening around her. He’d taken one look at her pale face, recognized the signs of panic, and grabbed her before her knees buckled. “Nobody’s going to hurt you again.” They’d have to go through him first.
The trust in her eyes humbled him, and he hoped he could live up to it. The same thing working in his favor also weighed against him. Cole was protecting a woman in whom he had an emotional investment—a definite problem. But instead of making him weak, he swore to himself his emotions would make him stronger, more vigilant and aware, instead of less.
Knowing she needed him, whether she wanted to or not, gave him a type of fortitude he hadn’t known was in his genetic makeup. She’s mine, he thought, tightening his arms around her. Mine to protect, he amended, knowing the distinction was of the utmost importance in both keeping her safe and giving him the distance he needed to do his job and not hurt her when he left on his next case.
“I know my fear isn’t rational; it’s psychological.” She glanced down, her long eyelashes dark against her pale skin.
“It’s like PTSD,” he explained, attempting to keep a detachment from the subject he didn’t feel. He’d gone through a rough case of post-traumatic stress disorder after his first undercover op ended. And though his superiors and the department shrink had assured him that most felt it at one time or another, Cole had fought like hell to overcome the debilitating reaction.
“What do you mean?” Erin asked.
“Rationally you know everything is okay, but your mind takes you back in time and you have no control over your body or its reactions.” Just the explanation had him gritting his teeth, knowing how close to the surface his own memories actually were. His fingers curled into tight fists, until Erin’s soft groan of pain alerted him to the fact that he was pinching the skin beneath her blouse.
He ran his thumbs over her arm by way of apology.
“How do you know so much about it?” she asked.
“Water, just like you wanted,” Edgar said, shoving a bottle at her.
“Thanks,” she said.
Cole opened the bottle and she drank, leaving him well aware that he’d been granted a reprieve from her question. Much of his work was confidential; more of it was shit he didn’t like or need to talk about. He had the required shrink sessions for that and he’d learned to put it behind him when he walked away. But Erin was persistent, and he wondered how long it would be before she pushed him for answers he wasn’t ready to give, or how long he could hold out against the pull she had over him.
She wasn’t deliberately tempting him, that much he knew. If anything, she was keeping her distance, or had been until he drew her into his lap, wrapped her in his arms, and shielded her from her own fears. It was part of her appeal, the way she held on to her dignity and pride. But living with her, taking care of her—hell, just being around her twenty-four seven—Erin was becoming harder and harder to resist.
Six
The rest of the week passed with no repeat of Erin’s panic attack, though she couldn’t stop thinking about that out-of-control feeling—and the sense she had that Cole knew more about what she’d experienced than he’d let on. She’d asked, he hadn’t offered up information, and she’d let it go. Just as she’d let it go when he’d wondered aloud what his mother would have done had there been a pro bono clinic back when she’d left his father.
She still hoped for answers one day, but he was so self-contained, she doubted they’d be forthcoming.
Neither Cole nor her brothers wanted her out in public, in places like Joe’s Bar, where she was an easy target, and Erin wasn’t used to being confined. Having Cole for company definitely helped her when she was feeling cooped up or antsy.
As she readied for bed, washing up, brushing her teeth, and moisturizing well, she glanced in the mirror at her bare stomach. Not quite flat anymore, there was a slight roundness now that clothes still hid, and her breasts were more sensitive and slightly fuller. She swallowed hard, knowing no matter how not-ready she felt, she’d better get there and fast. Her parents were coming home Wednesday, and she’d have to tell them about her pregnancy, the shooting, and her new roommate-slash-bodyguard.
She climbed into bed and listened to the sounds of Cole in the next room. Familiar noises she was more than growing used to hearing. The creak of the floor as he walked, the sound of him opening, then closing, the bathroom door in the hall. If he worked out, doing sit-ups, push-ups, and chin-ups from a bar he hung in the bedroom doorway, he’d shower before bed.
Erin didn’t know what was harder for her, knowing he was a few feet away, naked in her shower, or catching a glimpse of his bare chest and flexing muscles as he pulled himself up and lowered himself down from the bar, working out the definition she’d once felt beneath her hands. Hot skin she’d once run her lips over, then followed with her tongue.
Yes, bad-girl Erin was latent and begging to come out, especially now that the morning sickness had begun to subside, just as the doctor promised, around fourteen weeks into her pregnancy. To make matters worse, her sexual desire returned full force, although she could also attribute that to Cole’s invasion into her life. At first, she’d been in too much pain from being shot to think much about sex. Then she’d been too shaken up to focus on anything beyond one day at a time. But slowly, life had returned to normal . . . except for Cole living in her home.
And her mind consistently rewound to the
day she’d panicked at work—and his immediate reaction. Not only had he been aware of her emotions but his reaction had gone over and above what a bodyguard would—or should—do. There were other ways he could have taken care of her dizziness and panic, starting with sitting her on a chair and placing her head between her knees. Instead he’d pulled her onto his lap, cradling her in his warm body and protecting her with every breath he took.
His gentleness did more to affect her than his potent arousal, and she’d felt the swell of his erection pressing against her core. Nothing had been the same for her since, not with her hormones so crazy, her emotions all over the place, and desire raging like a furnace inside her. So it was no surprise that she tossed and turned in her bed, unable to fall asleep—and when she did, panicked dreams took hold.
She went to the mall, where someone was stalking her, so she ran to her car and nearly missed being shot at again. She drove to the police station, but even there, someone was firing a gun at her in the parking lot. She woke up with a scream, bolting upright in bed, her heart pounding as she looked around the darkened room.
Without warning, the lights switched on and Cole burst in, gun drawn, which only caused her to choke out another shriek.
He lowered the weapon immediately. “Easy,” he said, placing the gun on the dresser across from her.
She managed a nod.
“You okay?” he asked, coming up to the side of the bed.
“Yeah,” she whispered, once again feeling ridiculous for overreacting. “I had a nightmare.” Goose bumps raised on her arms as she trembled with the aftereffects of the dream.
He sat on the edge of the bed, and Erin suddenly realized he wore a pair of tight boxer briefs . . . and nothing more. It took everything she had to keep her gaze above his waist, where the dark strip of hair trailed below the waistband. She flicked her stare to his chest, but his bulk and muscles didn’t help either, so she looked at his face. Concern etched his handsome features.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked.
She managed a nod. “Everywhere I went, someone was after me. I couldn’t escape the gunshots or this stalker. I know it wasn’t real, but I felt like I was being hunted,” she said, mortified when a tear fell.
He leaned in and brushed at the moisture with his thumb. “Maybe you should talk to a professional,” he suggested.
She shook her head. “No. It’s stupid and it’ll go away. Nobody’s after me anyway. I still think the shooting was random, but until the police call it closed and you don’t need to guard me anymore, I’ll continue feeling on edge.” But believing she hadn’t been targeted and feeling safe warred in her mind, still heavy with the remnants of the dream.
She shivered and curled deeper under the comforter, not wanting to be by herself again, not knowing how to ask him to stay. She was feeling too vulnerable, and if he said no, she might embarrass herself and burst into tears.
She took in a deep breath, letting it out with a small shudder. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she felt that strong touch deep inside her.
She turned and looked up at him, drawing on courage she didn’t realize she had. “Please stay.”
He sucked in a surprise breath. Erin held hers but she refused to take the words back. From the moment she found out she was pregnant, she’d been alone—with the shock, with the morning sickness, and on her own again when she’d been shot. She was only so strong, and that strength had fled with the nightmare. She needed comfort and she wanted it from Cole.
Even if it was just for one night—and Lord knew they were experts at that.
She held her breath as he pulled down the covers and climbed in behind her, too far away for her even to feel his body heat. That wasn’t going to work for her. She cleared her throat and rolled onto her other side, facing him.
“I can’t sleep. Tell me a story,” she said, getting a chuckle from him.
She liked his laugh, more because he didn’t do it often and she had to work for the ones he gave her.
“What do you want to hear?” He propped himself up on his side.
“How about what you’ve been up to the last few years?” she suggested, knowing he wouldn’t like the subject. “In general, if you can’t discuss specifics.”
His frown told her she was right. “I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Since you’re my baby’s father, I want to know more about you, and I don’t think asking about your past is unreasonable. You said you were undercover, so it must be serious.”
“It is, when I’m living it. When a case is finished, it’s over.”
She held his gaze, looking into his handsome face and refusing to let him off the hook. “I don’t think it is. At least not for you.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Aren’t you the one who had the bad dream? So shouldn’t we be talking about who or what could possibly be upsetting you?”
Erin bit the inside of her cheek. “Good try. But I asked about you. How do you know so much about anxiety attacks and PTSD?”
“I just suggested it as a possibility,” he muttered.
“When most people would have attributed it to pregnancy. Come on, Cole. I’m not stupid. I see that something haunts you.”
He shook his head and groaned. “You’re so damned stubborn,” he muttered.
“It’s part of my job to push—but I really want to know you,” she said.
“Then you must be damned good at it,” he said, and she knew he was close to cracking.
“I am. Now talk.”
“There’s not much to tell. It sure as hell isn’t glamorous. It’s dangerous, spending great lengths of time pretending to be someone else, living a fake life. It can blur the line between who you’re pretending to be and who you really are. Sometimes we have to do . . . things that are legally and morally wrong to ensure the greater good. As a result, stress reactions are normal.”
Erin knew he was giving her a clinical reaction and description of his work, not the emotionally true one, but she’d take what she could get. “Go on,” she said softly, not wanting to break whatever spell had him revealing things to her.
He stared at the ceiling and continued. “We’re trained to go in, to deal; and when we get out, we’re debriefed and shrinked until they believe we’re stable and can go back under. That’s how I know what you were feeling, and that’s why I suggested help.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m getting help.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I am! From you.” She answered his unspoken question. “You’re here for me. You diagnosed me,” she said with a grin. “That explanation helped me understand. And I haven’t had a panic attack since you held me in your arms afterward.” She stared into the face she trusted and released a contented sigh. “See? Feeling better already.”
He narrowed his gaze, clearly uncertain if she was feeding him a line. She wasn’t. Not by a long shot. Everything about this man soothed her in ways she didn’t understand. Not when those very things screamed danger, both to her life and to her heart.
“Anything else I can do to help?” he asked.
Erin’s mind had already moved on from her nightmare to her greatest desire. He’d opened up to her and she felt closer to him emotionally, but it wasn’t enough. They’d been living together, tiptoeing around the past, the sexual tension, the yearning she could no longer deny.
She was independent and would remain so during Cole’s stay as well as after his departure, but right now, she was female and she had needs only he could fill.
He was here and he was offering to help . . . not that he knew what was on her mind. She wanted him—and she had every intention of getting what she needed.
Wide green eyes with flecks of gold stared at Cole as he waited for her to tell him what he could do to help calm her.
“You can hold me,” she said, her boldness shocking him.
When he hesitated, she grinned. “Okay, that’s too much for you too?”
“Wiseass,” he mut
tered, stalling for time. Everything about her drew him in—her strength and beauty, her independent spirit and sense of self-worth.
She was single, pregnant, and not complaining. Standing up to her bossy brothers, not to mention going toe-to-toe with him. Only when her subconscious took over did she allow normal human frailty to show.
And man, did Cole get that. So how could he deny her this moment of peace?
Especially when he wanted it too.
“Turn around,” he said, sensing he was approaching a threshold he really shouldn’t cross, especially with her wearing a short camisole nightie with lace, all her satiny soft skin showing through.
Her eyelids fluttered, and she flipped over, immediately scooting backward until she pressed against his chest and her ass snuggled into his crotch. His cock, which he’d managed to maintain some control over in her presence, reacted immediately, and now he was hard as nails.
With a sigh, she relaxed into him, while he was now totally tense as well as erect.
“I haven’t been sleeping,” she said quietly.
His arms tightened around her. “Probably because you haven’t felt safe.”
“I feel safe with you.” She snuggled closer against him.
Her words made him uneasy. She had too much faith in him that went beyond basic protection. If she trusted him, she was doomed to disappointment. But he couldn’t push her away. Instead, his hand settled on her stomach.
He couldn’t get over the fact that his baby was in there, and at the thought, something warm and unfamiliar settled inside him. Made him wonder what kind of parent he’d be. He didn’t have the best example of what to do. More like what not to do. He figured that was a start.
“How are you feeling?” he asked her.
“The nausea’s almost completely gone. I’m just really tired.” As if on cue, she yawned, and he forced himself to try to relax.
He listened to the sound of her breathing even out, and soon she’d fallen asleep. It took Cole another hour before his heart rate evened out and he chilled out enough to get drowsy with her in his arms, and at least another thirty minutes before he finally drifted off.
Perfect Fling Page 7
