Working for the Falcon brothers was a fine enough job and she was glad to have it, but she wasn’t altogether sure that they had what it took to make it in this business long-term, which meant her job security was less than perfect. How could she consider the possibility of having a family under those circumstances? A year from now she might be unemployed and crawling back to the P.D., her hat in her hands. At the thought of a family, her gaze inexplicably slid to Jay.
No doubt he’d make a great father, she thought, a soft smile curling her lips. He’d be the type of dad who’d change diapers and embrace his responsibility. He’d be the kind who would get on the floor and roughhouse with his kids, who wouldn’t miss a Little League game and would help with homework. He’d instill morals and respect and courtesy and a good work ethic. He’d be just as proud of a daughter as he would be of a son and he’d honor her decisions and not stop talking to her out of petty spite.
She hadn’t realized how much that had hurt her until just now, Charlie thought, scowling. Her father hadn’t behaved like that when Jack had announced his intentions to follow another path. He’d been disappointed, but at the end of the day he’d clapped him on the back and all was well.
Why hadn’t her dad done that with her? Why had he made her feel like she was a failure, a second-best child, a disappointment? Why hadn’t he wanted her to be happy? Wasn’t that supposed to be a universal wish for one’s children?
In all honesty, though she’d loved her mother, she’d always thought she had a closer relationship with her father. They had more shared interests. Her mother, bless her heart, had never understood her. Undoubtedly when Charlie was born her mom had had visions of dresses and matching hair bows and patent-leather shoes. She grinned. What she’d gotten was dirty T-shirts, cutoff jeans and sneakers. A girl who preferred playing baseball to playing house, who buried her dolls in the dirt so that she could reenact a crime scene, one who’d cut off her own hair to keep from having to wear ponytails or those cursed ribbons, a girl who had perpetually skinned knees, broken bones and who got into more fights than her older brother. And won.
She’d been a nightmare, Charlie realized with a slow-dawning smile, suddenly pitying her poor mother.
“I don’t know what that smile is for,” Jay said, his voice rusty from sleep. “But it’s scaring me.”
Charlie chuckled and made her way to the bed. She nudged him over so that she could sit on the edge. The spot was warm from his body heat. Nice. “I had to tell you something,” she said.
His eyes widened. “You came to talk?”
Incredibly, she blushed. She wanted him, too, but the window of opportunity to nail the dognapper was swiftly closing and she needed to focus on work. He was a…distraction. She let her gaze slide over his bare chest, appreciating the muscle and bone, the flat masculine nipples, the sleek skin.
A very, very good one.
“I’ve been busy.”
He glanced at the clock and anxiety suddenly lined his brow. “All night?”
She nodded, unreasonably pleased with his concern. That was new. To her knowledge, other than her mother, no one had ever worried about her. It was an unexpectedly pleasant sensation.
“Sometimes I even amaze myself,” she announced just short of a preen. She couldn’t help it, dammit. The little program she’d just written was ingenious even if she did say so herself.
And she did.
His eyes brightened with interest. “What have you done?”
“Provided I can get into the system in time, I have just made some computer magic that will move the ransom money immediately back out of the account before they ever realize that it’s gone.”
Admiration clung to his smile. “Really?”
“Really,” she confirmed with a nod. “And the best part? It will look like it’s there…until they go to move it.”
He peeked at her from beneath lowered lashes. “Is this legal?”
Charlie’s cheeks puffed as she exhaled mightily. “Not any part of it.”
Smiling, he gave his head a shake. “It utterly amazes me that you used to be a police officer, since you operate with a different set of rules from everyone else.”
“I know right from wrong,” she said, nodding primly. “But I believe that it’s occasionally justified to use so-called wrong means to right a situation.” She grimaced. “Spend a little time in a battered women’s shelter and you’ll see what I mean.”
He gave a nod of agreement. “I imagine so.” He paused. “Is that why you went into law enforcement? Because you wanted to right wrongs?”
Charlie felt a wan smile drift over her lips. “Nothing so noble as that,” she confided. “Both my grandfather and father are retired police officers.” She glanced at him. “You should have read that much on my résumé.”
“I didn’t read it.”
She looked up sharply. “What?”
“I like getting to know you,” he said, his frank gaze tangling with hers. “You fascinate me. Every insight is like a little gift. If I’d read it all it would have ruined the surprise.”
Wow. As compliments went, she didn’t know if she’d ever received anything better. It wasn’t a casual remark about her looks or a glib nod to her abilities—it was personal and thoughtful and… Hell, who wouldn’t want to be fascinating?
Particularly to a man like him.
“Thank you,” Charlie demurred, unaccountably nervous.
He grinned at her. “You’re blushing.”
“Shut up.”
“So you decided to follow in your family’s footsteps?” he prodded.
“I did. My brother was actually supposed to do it, but he joined the military instead.” She shot him a dry look. “He’s a Ranger.”
Jay chuckled, seemingly enjoying the irony. “Deployed?”
“Afghanistan.”
He winced. “Damn. What’s his name?”
“Jack Martin.”
“The name sounds familiar,” Jay told her. “But I can’t put a face with it.”
“I miss him,” she confided, then sighed. “Especially now.”
His gaze instantly sharpened. “Why especially now?”
Dammit, she hadn’t meant to let that slip. He was too easy to talk to and it was harder to keep her guard up when she was with him. Protecting herself, hiding any perceived weakness had become second nature to her. She also tended to shy away from ultra-feminine clothes—at least the ones that could be seen, anyway—and anything else that might trigger a “weaker sex” mentality in a male coworker.
She’d stopped wearing nail polish when she’d caught a smirk from another officer, but she still loved a pedicure. Her toes were currently painted a deep hunter-green with little fall leaves on them. It gave her a tiny kick of happiness every time she saw them.
Her home was actually where she reveled in her femininity. It was a small Craftsman bungalow she’d decorated with light colors, lots of floral fabric, frilly pillows with fringe and antique dishes and glassware, most of it pink Depression glass. She loved fresh-cut flowers and kept a little vase of them in almost every room. It was her sanctuary and very few people had ever been allowed in.
She’d let Jay in, Charlie realized. And would more than likely never want him to leave.
The thought jarred the answer to his former question out of her. “Because he gets that I wanted to do my own thing,” she said. “He backs me up.”
Jay frowned, looking perplexed. “Against who? Your family?”
“Just my father. He was very disappointed that I left the P.D.” She smiled so it wouldn’t sound so bad. “He hasn’t spoken to me since I left.”
Jay went still. “How long ago did you leave?” His voice was level, but there was an undercurrent of irritation.
She did the math in her head. “About two and a half months ago.”
If he was still before, he was like a statue now. Impossibly, he felt hotter. She could feel the heat coming off him in little waves. “Did you antici
pate this response?”
Charlie sighed. “I knew he’d be disappointed, but no, I didn’t expect him to be so…unmovable.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching over to take her hand. He threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed. She felt oddly comforted and something else…something darker and more sinful.
“Ah, he’ll come around. Eventually,” she added. “Are you close to your brother?”
He grinned at her. “You probably remember his name, too, don’t you?”
She poked her tongue in her cheek. “Carson. Have you talked to them since they left for Ireland? It was this week, right?”
Lips twitching with humor, he shook his head. “Unbelievable. Yes, they left this week. My mother wants to kiss the Blarney Stone. But to answer your question, no, we’re not as close as I’d like to be.”
“Pennyroyal isn’t that far from Atlanta,” she told him. “Maybe you can rectify that.”
“That’s my goal. Being in the military didn’t leave a lot of time for building relationships.”
That sounded…significant. Was he, like her, looking for someone? Had a desire for wanting a family of his own sparked his abrupt departure from the military? No, it couldn’t have, Charlie realized. He wouldn’t have been afraid of her finding that in his file. It wouldn’t have sent that blinding flash of fear and shame across his face, the one she still felt guilty for inspiring. Speaking of which…
“I’m sorry I looked through your file, Jay,” she said. “At the time you were just my opponent, not a—” She struggled to find the right word, but none seemed to fit.
“—friend,” he supplied for her.
She stilled, letting that definition take root. “Special friend,” she qualified.
Masculine humor lit his dark gaze and he lowered his voice. “Oooh, I like the sound of that.”
He was shameless, Charlie thought. But she secretly liked it. “Had you always wanted to be in the military?” she asked, dipping a pinky toe into more personal territory.
While a wall didn’t go up, per se, his expression might as well have posted a friendly no-trespassing sign. “I did,” he said. “It was a good career. Making the move to Ranger Security is definitely going to require some adjustment, but ultimately I think it was the right thing for me to do.”
He said it by rote, as though this was his standard answer to the question. It wasn’t, however, the complete truth. Not based on what she’d seen, anyway. She stared at him for a moment, a silent standoff wherein she let him know that she knew he was lying, and he stared back and didn’t elaborate. It stung that he wouldn’t confide in her, but ultimately she understood. Whatever it was he was dealing with would have to be done in his own time, in his own way. Admittedly, she was curious and longed to help—to chase away whatever haunted him—but she’d respect the line he’d drawn.
She gave a weak smile, squeezed his hand and jerked her head toward the door. “I’d better get back in my bed,” she said.
He essayed a grin, but it wasn’t the irreverent one she was used to. A shadow of vulnerability clouded it. “I can scoot over.”
She chuckled and dropped her head. She’d just bet he could.
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek, his nose sliding along the underside of her jaw. A hard shiver eddied through her and gooseflesh raced across the tops of her thighs. She wanted him—sweet heaven how she wanted—but something made her hesitate, some sliver of self-preservation.
Which was utterly ridiculous when she thought about what they’d done yesterday afternoon in the car. Hell, she’d disrobed and straddled him. They’d both screamed. It had been wild and frantic, desperate and depraved, and she’d loved every careless, uninhibited second of it.
But intuition told her this time it would be different. This time they weren’t just acting on the unprecedented sexual attraction—this time it would mean something, and she wasn’t sure how her heart was going to feel about that when they went home. Here, they were cocooned in a nice little bubble of their own making. But when they returned to Atlanta and he went back to work for Ranger Security, and she went back to the Falcon brothers, things couldn’t stay the same.
And she couldn’t afford to let herself fall for someone who needed to keep secrets from her.
Did she respect his privacy? Despite evidence to the contrary, yes. But she wanted a guy who needed to tell her his secrets. She wanted to be number one on his speed dial, she wanted to be the first person he called with good news, bad news and the you’re-not-going-to-believe-this moments. Too much? Maybe.
But she wouldn’t compromise. Couldn’t, dammit.
He breathed into her ear, nipped at the lobe. “Don’t go, Charlie. Stay with me.” His hand framed her face, his fingers sliding almost reverently along her cheek, making pleasure weight her lids, need pool in her sex. “Please.”
It was the please that did it, because she knew that it cost him. Jay Weatherford wasn’t the type of guy who had to say please to get a woman to sleep with him.
He wanted her.
And was willing to show her how much by tacking that one entreaty onto the request. It was unequivocally thrilling to be wanted that much, to be desired so thoroughly.
With a bone-deep sigh of supplication—and a certainty of heartache later—Charlie turned her head and kissed him, as well. Lightly, along his brow, his closed eyes, the soft skin at this temple. She rained the kisses delicately over his face, savoring the feel and taste of him.
He growled low in his throat and pulled her down onto the bed with him, lying on his side so that he could stretch her out and enjoy her. He fed at her mouth, long, languid and unhurried kisses that made time irrelevant and her bones turn to mush. He trailed his fingers along the open V of her nightshirt, then slowly started unbuttoning the gown, dipping his head in for a kiss against her flesh with every exposed inch. Every touch was deliberate and designed with her pleasure in mind and so hot it was a miracle her skin didn’t burst into flame.
By the time the last button was undone, he was kneeling between her thighs and she was breathing so hard it was embarrassing.
Sweet heaven.
His fingers slipped beneath the minuscule elastic of her thong at her hip and he licked a path along the curve, then across her belly and down the other side. Moisture coated her folds, her nipples were ruched so tight the very air seemed to be too much against them and a sizzling throb had built in her clit.
And he hadn’t even touched her there yet.
She whimpered, fisted her hands in the sheets, and it took every bit of willpower she possessed to keep from arching her hips up, begging him for release.
“I think I’ll stop now and read a book.”
Charlie’s eyes widened and her head popped up like a jack-in-the-box. “What?” she all but wailed.
He laughed at her, the wretch, then bent forward and blew a long puff of hot air over the swollen nub at the top of her sex. Her neck arching away from the bed, she emitted a low growl and her thighs quaked.
“Jay,” she said warningly. “Do something.”
Another infuriating chuckle. He dipped a finger beneath her panties and slid it along her nether lips. “What do you want me to do, Charlie?”
“Me,” she said. “Do me. Now.”
He hooked the elastic of her thong and swept the negligible bit of fabric out of the way, then fastened his mouth upon her so fast she gasped sharply and bucked beneath him. He weighted her thighs with his arms, spreading her open, and feasted upon her.
There was no other word for it.
He’d no more than swept his tongue over her clit when she came hard. Little lights danced behind her closed lids, every muscle went rigid with pleasure—the equivalent of a standing ovation in her body—and the breath that she’d just sucked into her lungs was held hostage until the orgasm crested and she could release it.
He reached up and massaged her breast and then his mouth followed his hand and he worked the budded cro
wn against his tongue, sucking hard. Meanwhile, he was dallying between her legs again, thumbing her clit while laving her nipple, and, impossibly, she felt release building again. The dual assault was purposeful and relentless and there seemed to be a magical thread running between the two sensitive areas because every lick or stroke of the one elicited a similar response in the other.
“Jay, please,” she said, her turn to entreat. Sweat slicked her brow and her skin burned and need coiled tighter and tighter, bending her to its will.
Though she didn’t know where it had come from or how he’d gotten it on without her noticing, Jay was suddenly sheathed in a condom and poised between her legs, nudging her entrance.
Breathing heavily, desperate for him, she looked up and the image he made would no doubt forever be burned into her memory. He was absolutely glorious. Curly lashes drooping low over his heavy-lidded eyes, the fine line of his shoulder as it elongated into his muscled arms, his chest a masculine work of art. He was splendidly made, Charlie thought.
And for the moment, hers.
Feeling an undeniable surge of possessiveness, she lifted her hips and rubbed herself against him, sucked a harsh breath between her teeth as pleasure bloomed through her, then scored his chest lightly with her fingernails.
As though she’d flipped some sort of unseen switch, he set his jaw and plunged into her, seating himself to the hilt. A fleeting expression raced across his face too fast for her to translate, but whatever it was triggered an almost primal response in him.
His lips peeled away from his teeth, a guttural growl tore from his throat and he clasped her hips, lifted her off the mattress and plunged into her repeatedly. It was hot and hard and frantic and, unlike the marathon of evenly paced foreplay, this was a sprint that he was determined to win.
He took her as if the hounds of hell were riding his ass, and if he looked back or stopped for a breath, he’d surely die.
Fine, Charlie thought. I’ll run with him. She anchored her legs around his back and matched his rhythm, tightening her feminine muscles around him as he withdrew, trying to hold on to him, to keep him inside her. She clung to him, held him as close as she could, her nipples abrading his chest with each frenzied thrust. She licked his neck, sucked his shoulder, ran her hands all over his body, relishing the feel of his hot skin beneath her greedy palms. She loved the way he felt, how he made her feel—desired and special, mysterious and unique. As if she was the most interesting thing in his world, and when he was with her, she was all that existed.
The Phoenix Page 13
