by Julie Miller
“Why would he want your picture?”
“That was the other guy. He may have been using the flash to blind me.”
When Jake pulled his pant leg down over the top of his boot and straightened, he could see she wasn’t listening to his explanation. She was staring at the weaponry attached to his leg. “Is that a gun?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know how to use it?”
Too well, perhaps. “Yeah.”
She tilted her eyes up to his. “Are you some kind of cop?”
I honestly don’t know. “Don’t worry. The safety’s on. It’s not going to accidentally go off around Emma. Or you.”
She touched her fingers to the middle of his chest. “That’s not what I asked. Why are you carrying a concealed gun?”
“Because I can in Missouri.”
She drew in a soft gasp that echoed in the hallway. “That’s not an answer.”
The security lights were too dim to tell what emotion darkened her eyes, but he could see them darting back and forth. She was trying to figure him out. Join the crowd, honey. She was trying to resolve the dangerous man he was with the hero she wanted him to be. Allow him to clarify. He leaned in, pressing his chest against her open palm, backing her into the wall without moving a step. He moved into her personal space and watched her pupils dilate with fear. “Don’t mistake me for Prince Charming.”
“I dated Prince Charming. It didn’t work.” Her voice hushed to a throaty whisper. Uh-oh. Backfire. Was she flirting with him? Even worse, was he playing this game with her? Their emotions must be too on edge for him to be thinking straight. “You’ve been watching the shop every night? Most people would think that’s creepy—you, armed and dangerous, spying on me from the shadows.”
“I am creepy.”
“No, you’re not.” She brought up her other hand to rest it against his chest. Only, her hands weren’t resting. They were moving, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt, petting him. “Don’t say things like that.”
Jake shrugged. She thought that telling him to stop being such a wiseass would get him to stop? He could snap her in two like a toothpick if he wanted to. Yet she somehow saw past the attitude and the ugliness, and never once backed down from arguing with him. Either she was a fool, or he was. And he was beginning to think it was the latter. “I’ve been coming over on my dinner break. You made me feel guilty that day at the bar.”
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“Wasn’t it? Didn’t you want me to get involved?” Jake flattened his hands on the wall on either side of her head and leaned in another fraction of an inch. He was making one last try at intimidating her out of this hero-worship thing that toyed so recklessly with the emotions he normally kept in check. But he breathed in her flowery, feminine scent and knew he was toast. His whole body buzzed with anticipation and he hadn’t even touched her.
“Yes. If you were involved... I’m used to handling whatever life throws at me on my own, Jake. Business issues. Personal disappointments. Family responsibilities. But I can’t handle this. If you would help...” She swallowed her nerves and Jake watched the movement all the way down her creamy throat. Her eyes were dark like the twilight sky when she tilted them up to his. “I need you. You’re the biggest, baddest S.O.B. I know. I don’t think that creep will keep messing with us if you’re around.”
Jake nodded. He liked that answer. It was honest. Probably true. He was all kinds of wrong for this woman. But he liked the way she talked. He liked the way her pale skin glowed in the hazy light. He liked the fresh, pure female scent of her filling his head. And he liked the way she touched him, putting her hands on him like she wasn’t afraid to.
A better man would have pushed away from the wall and let the night air cool the heat between them. But Jake wasn’t that man. Instead of walking away, instead of doing the polite thing and retreating a step, he closed the distance between their lips and kissed her. He curled his fingers into the burlap weave of the wall behind her, bracing himself for a shove in the chest. The kiss was as gentle as he knew how to make it, and that wasn’t very. He was hungry to taste what kind of woman she was. All lady? All fire? Some combination of both? He pressed his mouth down on hers, tilting her head back. He sucked her bottom lip between his and stroked his tongue along its cool softness until it warmed and quivered and parted from its mate, releasing a tender sigh across his grizzled cheek.
Confused by her lack of resistance, Jake pulled back, his eyes seeking hers in the shadows. He didn’t realize he’d asked a question, but Robin nodded. “Like this.” Then she tugged on his chin to align his mouth more fully with hers, and stretched up to seal their lips in a decadent, openmouthed kiss.
Branded by an unexpected rush of heat, Jake threaded his fingers into her hair and cupped her head to hold her against the driving force of his desire. Her back hit the wall and his body followed as he plunged his tongue into her mouth, plundering her lips, drinking in her heat and tasting her welcome. He knew how badly he wanted Robin, but he hadn’t known how much he needed her to want him a little bit, too. Not just as some kind of monster to scare away the bad guys, but as a man.
That she’d taken charge of the kiss, that she framed his jaw and pulled him to her, that her lips and tongue were inviting him to do the same sweet things to her she was doing to him, was as heady and healing and normal as anything he’d felt since losing himself to that bullet.
Her mouth was soft and warm and delicious as he claimed it again and again. Her hair was silky and strong tangled between his fingers. Her soft, throaty moans skittered over him like a physical touch, eliciting a husky groan of his own. Her fingertips bit into his chest, his shoulders, then skimmed up the column of his neck to hold on to his battered face again.
Jake needed, and he took. Robin gave and he humbly thanked her. She was sweet and sexy and everything he could ever want. The kiss was raw and passionate and maybe just a little bit rough. They were linked by hands and lips and the fiery heat igniting between them. But Jake felt a connection being forged deep inside him, a bond to this woman that felt more real and right than any hazy memory of the life he’d lived.
And because of that connection, because it was already too late for a man who didn’t want to get involved to deny his feelings for this woman, Jake ended the kiss. He was too weak to completely break away, though, so he rested his forehead against hers. Robin was breathing as hard as he was, but she stood tall and strong with him. Her hands settled at the base of his throat, providing an unexpected cooling balm to the injured skin there. He eased his grip in her hair and opened his eyes to find her looking right up at him. Her cheeks were flushed with heat and the pink abrasion his beard had left around her mouth looked as if he’d stamped himself there. He’d expected her to look as dazed as he felt.
But there was a purpose in those gray-blue eyes, a directness that seemed to indicate she felt that same connection, too. She was asking the silent question now and Jake nodded. “He won’t mess with you,” he vowed. “Or Emma. I’m involved.”
Maybe he’d just been expertly played. Flirt with the big monster. Give him some sugar. Get his heart and hormones racing so hard that he’d do anything to get another kiss, some tender touches and maybe something more—all in exchange for getting involved in Robin Carter’s problems and making them go away.
Didn’t matter if he’d been played or not. And he might well regret it. But he wasn’t going anywhere now. There were too many strange things happening around this tiny family. He intended to keep them both safe. Or die trying.
At last Jake found the strength to pull his hands from her mussed hair and back some distance between them. “Pack your things. I’ll call Robbie and tell him I won’t be back tonight. I’ll need to make a stop by my place. Then I’m taking you home.”
Chapter Eight
“I love what you’ve done with the place.”
Robin set Emma’s carrier on the small, laminate-topped counter that passed
for a kitchen in Jake’s tiny apartment. Other than the weightlifting equipment in one corner, Jake’s apartment looked as old and out of date as the dingy limestone facade outside.
“All the comforts of home,” his tone mocked, “if comfortable isn’t the thing you’re going for.” He tossed his key on a tiny table with one chair and walked to the dresser beside the lone closet.
Nice to see he had a sense of humor hidden beneath that stony exterior. Other than a few terse commands about where to turn and park, their short trip from the floral shop had passed in silence, giving her plenty of time to second-guess the wisdom of forming this alliance with Jake Lonergan. It was sad, if not surprising, to see that he lived in such a Spartan abode. There was not one painting to give it color, no photograph to give any hint of what was important to Jake, no knickknack of any kind to give her any clue about her mysterious rescuer. There was certainly no sign of a family or that he ever entertained visitors, given the single chair and the sofa she suspected was there to serve as his bed rather than seating for guests. No wonder he lacked the social skills of other men she knew—he never got any practice socializing.
Is that what was he getting out of his agreement to help her and Emma? The chance to be a little less alone? He certainly didn’t need her money, judging by the large roll of cash he pulled from the dresser. “You don’t believe in banks?” she asked.
“I believe in being prepared.” He stuffed the wad into the front pocket of his jeans.
“What are you preparing for?” she asked. “What do you think is going to happen?”
He’d charged to her rescue more than once, yet hid in the fringes of her life, avoiding contact with the police and almost anyone else. Beyond the striking silver-white hair and scars that she suspected made most people stare in morbid fascination or turn away in fear, he cursed and made cryptic comments. He shied away from holding a harmless baby, yet had no qualms about putting a stranglehold on an attacker. Maybe a few lessons in standard, polite behavior could be her gift to him—teaching him how to make friends, her way of thanking him. She might as well start with lesson number one. “It wouldn’t kill you to answer a question when someone asks it.”
“I don’t know what’s coming next, so I don’t know what to say.”
“‘I don’t know’ is an answer,” she pointed out. “It doesn’t hurt you to just say so. And I won’t feel like you’re avoiding me again.”
His eyes seemed particularly icy when they glanced at her. But he opened the closet door and shifted his attention there.
Robin tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and frowned at his broad back. Maybe friendship wasn’t what he was hoping for, after all. While there’d been little familiarity with the process in that first kiss tonight, she’d been more sure of Jake’s desire for her in those few moments he’d trapped her between the wall and his kiss than she’d been with Brian or any other man she’d been in a long-term relationship with. Besides, the man was a fast learner when he put his mind to it. She could count on one hand the number of times the memory of a kiss had stayed with her, and that greedy, grabby passion-fest tonight topped the list. Jake’s overt masculinity triggered something ultra-feminine, vaguely nurturing and maybe just a little bit reckless inside her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to soften some of those rough edges and tutor him in the finer points of building a relationship, or if she wanted to throw caution to the wind and hold on for wherever the ride with Jake would take her.
Still, she knew next to nothing about the man. She sensed a horrible conflict inside him, and more secrets than most men had the strength to carry. He was armed and dangerous. Correction, he was dangerous even without being armed.
She shouldn’t want him like she did. The overachiever in her shouldn’t be toying with the idea of taming him, helping him deal with the demons that scarred his face and haunted his ice-blue eyes. She was certain to get burned, likely to fail. She shouldn’t trust him. And yet, she’d placed her and Emma’s lives in his hands. Whatever he wanted in return, whatever he needed, she vowed to give it willingly.
A week ago, Robin wouldn’t have ventured into this neighborhood, just a few blocks from her shop, beyond the renovation of blighted downtown properties that Brian Elliott and other entrepreneurs were reclaiming. She certainly wouldn’t have come here at night, with Emma in tow. Yet, with Jake walking by her side, she’d felt safe parking out front and carrying Emma into the old apartment building. These feelings about Jake were as irrational as they were deep. Maybe she should indulge the more practical side of her nature and get some answers to back up what her heart and soul were far too ready to believe—that he was a good man with a good heart, and that he would never knowingly hurt her or Emma.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked, trailing her finger across the counter and discovering that what the apartment lacked in personality, it made up for in cleanliness. That was a good sign, right? Or maybe it was a vigilant effort to hide something she should be seeing.
“Since I got the job at the Shamrock Bar.” Jake pulled out a ratty leather satchel and stuffed a clean change of clothing inside. “I wanted a place within walking distance of work.”
“You don’t have a car?”
The bag clunked when he set it on the table, and Robin startled back a step. Whatever was inside was a lot heavier than some spare underwear. “Don’t need one if I’m not going anyplace.”
Surely, with all that cash she’d seen him stuff into the front pocket of his jeans, he could afford some kind of transportation. She tried not to dwell on what Detective Montgomery had said about how not being in the DMV database made Jake particularly hard to track. It had been a relief to learn he had no arrest record. But she still had no explanation for why he made such a concerted effort to hide from the world.
Curiosity had her peeking into the singed leather bag while he pulled a black hoodie from the closet. “What’s in here? All your worldly possessions?”
“Robin, don’t—”
Too late. “Oh, my God. What is all this?”
“I asked you not to look,” he snapped.
Before Jake could zip the bag shut, she saw the cache of weaponry and reached inside. Curiosity instantly changed to fear. Or maybe that was anger.
“Don’t yell at me,” she chided. She picked up something that looked like a small hand grenade. “Why do you have these things?” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Emma was still asleep in her carrier—as if shielding her daughter from the sight could shield her from the danger. “You can’t have this arsenal around my daughter.”
He plucked the grenade from her hand. “You already know I carry a knife and a gun.”
“But all this? Are you expecting World War Three?” She’d seen boxes of bullets, a variety of knives and something that looked like pieces of a broken rifle. “This is crazy. I mean, is this even legal? Where did you get them? Do you know how to use them all?” Even as she said the words, she was waving the question aside and turning toward Emma. Of course he knew how to use them. That’s why he didn’t want to police to know who he was. That’s why he hid from society. And she’d brought her baby here? “What kind of man are you?”
Jake opened the bag to replace the grenade thingee and stuffed the sweatshirt in beside it. “You’re just now getting curious about who I am? After you sought me out and invited me into your life?”
“No, I’ve been curious all along, but I was respecting your privacy. It seemed so important to you.” Robin picked up the carrier and headed to door. She was feeling anger, all right. Anger at herself for trusting her life to this enigma of a man for even one moment. It was disconcerting, too, to feel this sense of hurt. That could only mean she felt something for Jake, and caring for such a dangerous, difficult man made her a bigger fool yet. “This was a mistake.”
“I thought you wanted a big, bad S.O.B.”
She stopped with her hand on the knob and turned. He’d braced his hands on the tabletop, framing that
bag of weapons with his shoulders, drilling her with those icy eyes and looking all kinds of intimidating. All Robin saw was the effort to shut her out. “I thought things had changed between us tonight. To find out you’ve been watching over us all along? That’s...sweet.”
“Sweet?” He sneered as if the word was a foreign concept to him.
“You must care on some level. And that kiss? That was more than— I don’t let just anyone—” She tried to think of the right word to fit the tension simmering between them, and how this mysterious man had already gotten around her emotional defenses. But the words weren’t there. The answers she needed weren’t, either. “I think I have a right to know more about you. But every time I ask a question, you give me some cryptic response or nothing at all. I want to trust you, Jake. I thought I did. But the more I’m with you, the more I feel like an idiot for asking you to be our bodyguard.”
Robin pulled open the door, but in two long strides, Jake was there to reach over her shoulder and shut it again.
“I’m sorry.”
Robin held her breath, trying to ignore the way her skin leaped at the heat of his body standing so close to hers. She was as surprised by his apology as she’d been by his sudden movement across the room.
“I’m not used to people expecting something from me.” He pulled his hand away from the door, reducing that feeling of being trapped. “You’re not an idiot. You’re a desperate woman, and I’m the kind of man who can cope with desperate. And you know it. If my word’s worth anything, I promise you and Emma will be safe with me.” His big fingers hovered in her peripheral vision, hesitating for a moment before touching her hair. It was almost a shy movement, infinitely gentle as he tucked the short brown waves behind her ear. “I need you to be safe. I’ve already got enough guilt on my conscience....” At his expectant pause, Robin tipped her chin to look up into those beautiful, striking blue eyes. “How do I get you to trust me?”
