Touch of Red

by Laura Griffin

  “Where is it?” he asked.

  “Where is what?”

  “The drinking glass. And don’t lie to me.”

  She pulled back. “What the hell? Don’t accuse me of lying to you.”

  “Where is it?”

  “At the lab.”

  He closed his eyes, and the muscle at the side of his jaw twitched. “God damn it, Brooke.”

  “What?”

  He started to say something, then shook his head. Suddenly he stood up. “I need to go.”

  “Wait, that’s it?” She looked up at him and laughed. “Discussion over?”

  “If I open my mouth right now, I’m going to yell at you.”

  She got to her feet and plunked her hands on her hips. “Yell all you want. I won’t break.”

  He shook his head and looked away.

  “Obviously, you’re ticked off. I can understand, but—”

  “Ticked off? That doesn’t even begin to describe what I am right now, Brooke. I’m fucking furious—” He stepped back and held his hands up. “You know what? I’m not doing this. I need to go. I almost didn’t come over here in the first place because I’m so goddamn mad at you right now.”

  Anger swelled in her chest at the idea that he’d avoid her because he thought she couldn’t handle a conflict.

  “Be mad, Sean. Go ahead. Yell all you want.”

  He shook his head and wouldn’t look at her.

  “Yell, Sean. Say what’s on your mind!”

  His gaze snapped to hers. “Fine! I can’t fucking believe you did this!”

  “What, exactly?”

  He sneered. “You should stick to lab work, Brooke, because you are not a detective and you suck at undercover.”

  “Who said anything about undercover?” she demanded. “I’m not hiding anything.”

  “Oh, yeah? So, you weren’t trying to be all stealth about it? So, you don’t care if a brutal murderer knows you’re tailing him around and collecting his DNA?”

  She rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t know that.”

  “No?” Sean stepped closer. “I talked to that waiter, Brooke, and it took me all of thirty seconds to figure out what you did. If I can do it, so can Mahoney.”

  “He didn’t even see me there.”

  Sean tipped his head back. “Jesus Christ. How can you say that?” He gaped at her. “I saw you there. My whole team saw you there. The entire staff of that restaurant saw you there. How could you be so damn reckless? You could have gotten hurt. You could still get hurt!”

  The bell rang. She tore her gaze away from Sean to look at the door.

  “That’s my dinner.” She grabbed her wallet from where she’d dropped it on the couch and hurried to the door. After taking the warm paper bag of Thai food, she tipped the delivery guy and sent him on his way with a phony smile.

  Brooke closed and locked the door, barely glancing at Sean as she strode into the kitchen. He followed her. She set the bag on the counter and started unpacking the cartons, not bothering to hide her emotions as she slapped everything out on the counter.

  “You know, I thought you might be annoyed, but I also thought you might be a tad bit grateful.”

  “Grateful.” He folded his arms over his chest.

  Again she wondered about the tie. “Yes, grateful. Appreciative. Thankful that I put a rush on some tests for you so you’ll know whether you’re focused on the right suspect.”

  “I already know I’m focused on the right suspect! You want to know how? Because I’m a detective and I’ve got years’ worth of experience doing what you tried to do this afternoon with absolutely no training whatsoever, which is close in on a suspect, build a case, and ultimately obtain an arrest warrant.”

  She rested her hand on her hip. “So, you’re not grateful at all to have a DNA sample to help you do that?”

  “We’re using other means.”

  “Why?”

  “A lot of reasons, none of which concerns you. Or didn’t until you decided to barge into the investigation.”

  “You see it as barging, I see it as helping. Whatever.” She got two plates down from the cabinet. “Anyway, DNA evidence is much more conclusive than anything else you’re doing, and that’s a scientific fact. I took a calculated risk and it was worth it.”

  He shook his head.

  “What?” She opened a carton of noodles.

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that.”

  His words hit her smack in the center of her chest. Yet another example of how totally different Sean was from Matt.

  Brooke looked up at his eyes, simmering with frustration, and she felt guilty. He was truly worried about her, so much so that he’d worked himself into a fury over it. But he didn’t deal with his emotions the way Matt did. Not at all.

  She stepped closer to him, and he watched her warily as she rested her hand on his chest. The starched cotton felt warm under her fingertips.

  “I’m sorry you don’t agree with my tactics. I’m not sorry for what I did, though.”

  “Brooke—”

  “The results should be in sometime tomorrow, and you guys can move forward one way or another. And if Rachel has a problem with what I did, then she can ignore the findings. But at least you and your team will know whether you’re wasting valuable time.”

  He took a deep breath and blew it out. Then he combed a hand through his hair.

  “Stay for dinner.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, and she saw the emotions warring in his face. “I should go.”

  She turned to the cabinet and took down a wineglass. She poured a glass of merlot and handed it to him.

  “Stay with me, Sean. Please?”

  • • •

  Sean didn’t need wine. Or food. He just needed her to look at him with those seductive blue-green eyes that promised him the world.

  She was so damn beautiful, and he needed to turn off the anger coursing through his system because he couldn’t stand for her to see him lose his temper.

  He took the wineglass and set it on the counter beside him. He was still pissed off, and he had no business being here when he felt this way. He never wanted her to think he was one of those tightly wound guys who would lose their shit in the heat of the moment.

  “Relax.” She stroked her palm over his chest again.

  “I can’t. I’m worried about you.”

  Worried was an understatement. In the past week, Sean had watched two young women get zipped into body bags, and the idea of Brooke crossing paths with the man responsible made Sean queasy with fear.

  He removed Brooke’s hand from his chest, needing her to focus on what he was saying. “What you did was dangerous, Brooke. I don’t want you on that guy’s radar.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not.”

  She slipped her arms around him, filling him with the tantalizing scent of her wet hair. She rested her head against him, and he couldn’t resist squeezing her tight. All day long, he’d felt this aching hole in his chest. And she seemed to know right where it was because she rested her palm over the spot.

  “You’re dressed up.” She smoothed her hand down his tie. “Where were you today?”

  “A deposition,” he said, allowing himself to be lured into a change of subject.

  “Oh?” She eased back and looked at him curiously. “Want to talk about it?”

  “No.” She lifted an eyebrow at his sharp tone. He was shitty company tonight, and he needed to make up a reason to leave.

  “How’d it go with the interview?”

  “Interview?”

  “Cameron and the sketch artist.”

  “It didn’t happen. Cameron threw up in the car on the way to the police station. His mom says he has a nervous stomach.”

  Brooke’s brow furrowed with worry.

  “They rescheduled for tomorrow afternoon, and they’re going to try again.”

  She rested her head against his chest. He didn’t tell her she’d been right about the kid b
eing traumatized, because she obviously knew. But they needed him anyway, so traumatized or not, they planned to get him in front of the sketch artist.

  This case was so fucked-up. Sean hated that an innocent little boy was right in the middle of it. He hated that Brooke was right in the middle of it. But she wouldn’t let it go, and Sean’s inability to stay away from her wasn’t helping matters. He needed to leave.

  She tipped her head back to look at him, pressing her breasts against his chest.

  “Brooke—”

  She kissed him, cutting off the lame excuse he’d been about to give her.

  He wasn’t going anywhere. Not when she had him wound up like this—a tight ball of nerves and frustration. He’d been like this all day, but worse since he’d seen her outside that restaurant, only footsteps away from the prime suspect in two vicious homicides. What the hell was she thinking?

  He gripped her shirt, insanely relieved to know she was safe and in his arms, where nothing bad could happen to her, at least for this moment.

  She seemed oblivious to his struggle as she dug her fingers into his hair. Her mouth was hot and seeking, and he pushed her back against the counter, pinning her there as he gave in to the need that had been hounding him for days. Her hand was up at the knot of his tie now, loosening it, and he didn’t bother to help her because he was too busy devouring her mouth.

  She tasted so good, even better than last night, and he remembered the fantasies that had haunted him during his endless stakeout.

  She tugged the tie loose and jerked it free from his collar. She tossed it on the counter and went to work on his buttons as Sean pulled her T-shirt over her head, revealing a sexy black sports bra. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, but the sleeves got caught at his wrists. He stepped back to unbutton the cuffs and toss the shirt aside, and the instant he was free, she was in his arms again. He stroked his hands over all that smooth, warm skin he’d been craving, but damned if he could find the clasp of her bra. While he was busy searching for it, she stripped his white T-shirt over his head and fastened her mouth on his chest with a little moan.

  God, she was hot. Sean lifted her onto the counter, pushing her thighs apart so he could position himself where he’d wanted to be for days, and she smiled down at him.

  “In a hurry?”

  “Yes.”

  He gave up on the bra and simply jerked the strap down her shoulder, uncovering a pale, perfect breast that fit right in his palm. He bent his head down and sucked her nipple into his mouth, and she made another of those sexy moans.

  “Sean. Ohhh . . .” She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer, digging her fingers into his hair while he kissed and licked her. He pulled the other bra strap down, and she arched her back and offered herself up to him. He loved kissing her—and especially loved the sounds she was making. Then she surprised him by wrestling the bra right over her head and flinging it away.

  “No clasp,” she said breathlessly.

  He took her mouth again, kissing the smile right off her face. Cupping her breasts in his hands, he rasped his thumbs over her nipples as she arched against him.

  She was hot and eager, and he couldn’t stop kissing her. Emotions churned through him—anger, lust, frustration—as he recalled the choking fear he’d felt when he looked through those binoculars and realized what she’d done. And part of him still knew he shouldn’t be here, that he should leave her alone tonight. But the other part of him knew he wasn’t going anywhere when he so desperately wanted to be right here, right now. He dragged her hips to the edge of the counter and reached back to unhook her ankles so he could slide the stretchy black pants off her body and drop them on the floor. One look at her, completely naked and panting and flushed on her kitchen counter, sent a surge of need through him.

  He kissed her again—harder than he should have—but she wrapped her legs around him and brought him in close. He felt her hand fumbling with his belt buckle.

  “Sean.” She pulled back and glanced over her shoulder at the window behind her. “We can’t do this. Not here.”

  He went still, his hand at the top of her thigh as he took in the scene and realized what she meant. Anyone could see them through the blinds.

  She slid down from the counter and grabbed his hand. “Come to the bedroom.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Brooke’s heart was racing as she pulled him down the dim hallway leading to her room. She was naked—naked—towing him through her house and into her most private space, and she realized she might be making a mistake. But she glanced over her shoulder, and one look at the desire etched on his face banished her doubts. Mistake or not, they were doing this now. She quickened her pace, towing him faster as they neared her room.

  “God, I love your ass.” He reached out and caught her around her waist with one hand, while the other squeezed her butt.

  “You do not.”

  He swatted it, and she yelped at the sting.

  “Wanna bet?”

  She laughed and fell forward onto the bed, and he came down on top of her, caging her in with his arms. She flipped onto her back and wrestled him, and in no time he had her pinned underneath him with her wrists clamped against the mattress.

  She smiled up at him, but he didn’t smile back, and when he kissed her, she tasted all that pent-up anger he’d been trying to keep in check. Something was different tonight. There was something raw and possessive, and she’d never liked that with anyone before, but coming from him, it thrilled her. The realization that it did sent a jolt of excitement through her body. She bit his lip, and when he jerked back in surprise, she yanked her hand free and burrowed it between them so she could unfasten his pants.

  He pulled back and looked at her, his gaze narrowing as she smiled up at him and eased down his zipper.

  “Sneaky,” he grumbled, then kissed her again, giving her lip a nibble of his own, and when her fingers curled around him, he groaned into her mouth.

  She loved the way she felt with him—powerful and in charge and exhilarated, like she could do anything she wanted. And in this moment, she wanted him and nothing else. She wanted his powerful body and the thrumming sexual energy she felt coming off him in waves.

  He murmured something and pushed up and off the bed, watching her with that heated gaze as he kicked off his shoes and stripped off the rest of his clothes. She propped on her elbows to watch him as he dug into his wallet for a condom and tossed it on the nightstand, and soon he was back at her side, stroking his hand down the front of her body. It came to rest just below her navel, and her heart did a little dance of anticipation.

  He eased on top of her, using his knees to push her legs apart as her rested his weight on his arms and kissed her—starting with her mouth, then sliding down her neck and lingering at her breasts. He’d obviously noticed how sensitive they were, and he stayed there teasing and licking and suckling her until she was writhing under him, dizzy with need. She arched up, pressing her hips against him.

  “Sean,” she said, hoping he heard the impatience in her voice.

  He pulled away and sat back on his knees, watching her intently as he pulled on the condom. Then he stretched out over her and entered her body with a powerful stroke that had her gasping.

  He adjusted her legs and did it again, and she tipped her head back and slid her hands up his back. He felt good, so amazingly perfect inside her, and she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him as close as she possibly could as he drove into her again and again, making the bed shake. She tipped her head back and tried to keep up with him as he hammered into her.

  “Brooke . . .” His voice was strained and the muscles of his shoulders bunched under her hands. She clenched herself around him as hard as she could and felt herself start to come.

  “Yes. Yes, Sean, yes.”

  He thrust into her again, and she saw stars behind her eyes and the orgasm blazed through her.

  He groaned and collapsed, catching his weight on his elbows
as he buried his face against her hair.

  She didn’t move. She couldn’t. She could barely breathe with his body pinning her beneath him. Then he pushed up on his palms and stared down at her, breathing hard.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “What? No.”

  He gazed down at her for a moment, then rolled onto his back, closing his eyes and dropping his arm over his face.

  She propped on an elbow and looked at him, taking a moment to catch her breath, too. She had no idea what he was thinking right now, and when he let his arm flop onto the bed, he looked dazed and winded and, yes, still stressed-out.

  “Hey.”

  He turned to look at her.

  She trailed her finger along the stubble covering his jaw. “I’m sorry you were upset earlier.”

  His face tightened. He sat up on his elbows, and she could tell he wasn’t ready for the past tense. He was still upset with her.

  He got up and disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, then returned and tossed a pair of throw pillows to the floor. He stretched out next to her and pulled her against him, nestling her head against his chest.

  “You’re not sorry for going behind my back and meddling in my case, though, right?”

  Now she wished she hadn’t brought this up so soon. She could have at least waited until they were dressed again, or under the covers, or something, rather than lying here naked together.

  “I told you. I took a calculated risk that I believe was warranted by the situation.”

  He looked at her. “Again, we’re going to have to agree to disagree.”

  What, exactly, was happening here? His responses were all over the map.

  “Let’s drop it.”

  “You mean that?”

  He sighed. “I’m resigned to the fact that you don’t want me or anyone else telling you what to do.”

  She tipped her head back and ran her fingertip over his jaw again, watching the tension in his face.

  “But you’re still angry.”

  “Yes.” He stared up at the ceiling, then looked down at her. “The thought of something happening to you—” He shook his head, as though he couldn’t find the words.

  Emotion swelled inside her. “I know.”