Evidence of Trust

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  She softened the rebuff with a smile, and he backed up to grab their bags from the back. “Okay.”

  Two steps toward the cabin, she paused. He quickly moved to her side, but all she did was take a deep inhale.

  “Mmm, that smells good.”

  “After a shower, it’ll be even better without the undercurrent of Eau de Smoke.”

  Her laugh warmed his heart. “You smell, too, you know.”

  “I know.” He hadn’t showered when he left the hospital, only taken the time to grab his things from the duplex, stop at the ranger station for his files, and then the police station to talk to Aaron.

  “I call first dibs,” she said.

  “It’s all yours.”

  He went ahead of her to unlock the door, then swung it open and stepped aside for her to enter first. She halted in the doorway.

  “Hello. Right behind you here.”

  “Sorry.”

  She moved out of the way, and he carried the bags inside. One glance was all it took to understand her hesitation on the threshold. The small cabin consisted of exactly two rooms. One was clearly the bathroom, the other was a combination kitchen, living area and bedroom…with one bed.

  One large bed.

  Despite her injury and the past twelve hours, his mind went right back to that kiss in the barn. “I didn’t realize…I’ll take the couch.”

  “It’s not a big deal, Joel.”

  She shut the door behind him and took her bag from his hand. The brush of her fingers against his fueled the simmering burn in his veins. After she’d crossed the room and shut the door to the bathroom, he blew out a breath. It was going to be a long night.

  The only way to distract his libido once the water turned on was to head back to the truck to haul in his box of investigation files and the bag of groceries he’d picked up after throwing out half of what he’d bought the night before. The food only took a minute to put away, and then he spread the files out on the table, laptop off to the side.

  Instead of reading the words in front of him, he listened for when the water shut off. Then he counted the minutes until the door opened, emitting a light cloud of steam that quickly dissipated in the cooler room as she stepped out.

  “All yours. And good God, did that feel good.”

  Good God, she was going to drive him crazy. Her wet hair fell over her shoulders and down her back. She wore a short pair of thin, black pajama pants with a matching cotton tank top—and no bra. Comfortable and casual, and sexy as hell.

  Not even the bruise on her head could douse the blaze sweeping through him. After one lingering glance, he bit back a groan and forced his attention back to the papers on the table.

  She flipped back the comforter on one side of the bed and sat on the edge to comb through her curls. He flipped to the next file and read the first page. Then read it again.

  Nope, not working.

  He shut the file, shoved to his feet, and scooped up his own bag. “I won’t be long.”

  Once in the bathroom, he dropped his stuff and leaned back against the wood to draw in a deep, cleansing breath. Her apple-scented shampoo inundated his senses and had him hard in seconds.

  Long night was a frickin’ understatement—especially considering it wasn’t even four p.m. yet.

  Mindful of the couple minor burns a nurse had treated on his back, he scrubbed the smoke smell from his skin and hair, then finished off his shower with a few minutes under a stream of bracing cold water. It helped enough that he was able to pull on a pair of clean briefs and zip his jeans without it being too uncomfortable. When he stepped barefoot out into the main room, he saw Brittany had fallen asleep.

  Good. She needed it. He walked over and started to pull the comforter up. The bruise on her shoulder triggered the memory of her lying motionless under the mustang. For a heart-stopping moment, terror seized him all over again. She could have easily been killed.

  He shuddered. The thought of her no longer being in his life was unthinkable. As he stared at her damp, blond curls spread out on the pillow, a sudden clarity made his chest tighten even as his heart pounded loud enough to drown out the world around him.

  He loved her.

  The realization surprised him, yet it didn’t. Brought him peace and terrified him at the same time. Hope clashed with uncertainty.

  “Joel?”

  Her soft voice jerked his unfocused gaze up to see she’d half-rolled toward him. “Right here.”

  “There’s plenty of room if you want to lie down.”

  He cleared his throat, hoping it’d dislodge the lump restricting his air. “Thanks, but I’m going to get some work done.”

  Her lashes fluttered before resting against her cheeks once more. “’Kay.”

  Sheer willpower carried him away from the bed and back to the table. It did nothing to help him focus on the investigation, and after a half-hour, he buried his head in his arms in frustration.

  * * *

  An unfamiliar chime jerked him awake to a room barely lit enough to see across. It took a moment to remember Aaron had taken both their phones and given him a different cell to avoid any possibility of the poacher-turned-stalker tracking their GPS signals. With a quick glance to make sure Brittany was still in bed, he unburied the loaner phone from the paperwork in front of him. It was eight-fifteen, and the chime had been for an incoming text message.

  Partial fingerprint from the blade in Britt’s tire doesn’t match Kelly Stevens or anyone else in system. Store security video did not cover parking lot. Note and envelope clean. Inspector confirmed fire was arson. Found clear evidence of accelerant behind barn. Stevens has alibi. Will touch base in the A.M. Get some rest.

  He read it twice, then lightly tossed the phone aside with a muttered curse. It was exactly what he’d expected, but that didn’t help his aggravation that they were still spinning their wheels. He sat back in the chair and scrubbed his hands over his face to clear away sleep.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He lowered his arms to his lap to see Brittany pushing aside the comforter as she got out of bed.

  “No fingerprint matches, and there was nothing on the video.”

  She slipped on a zip-up sweatshirt on the way to the table, leaving him equally relieved and disappointed. He didn’t protest when she reached for the phone. After reading the text, she set it back down and sunk into the chair opposite him.

  Joel reached behind him to flip on the light switch, watching as she blinked at the sudden illumination. Both pupils seemed to react equally. Good. “How are you feeling?”

  “Hungry.”

  So was he, but no use thinking about that. “No nausea? Dizziness? Blurred vision?”

  The rapid-fire questions made her smile. “No, Dr. Morgan. I’m fine.”

  “And the shoulder?”

  She slowly rotated it in a circle, but only a slight grimace marred her brow. “Not as bad as I thought it’d be.”

  “Good.” He pushed back his chair to stand. “You okay with hash browns and eggs for dinner?”

  “If you’re cooking I am.”

  “It’s my specialty,” he joked on his way to the kitchen area.

  She joined him and pitched in to help right away. He wanted to tell her to go rest, but knew she’d argue. By unspoken agreement, they kept the conversation neutral all the way through dinner. Favorite movies, television shows, books; anything except the mess going on around them right now.

  Knowing he was going to have to bring it up soon, his tension built as she washed the dishes and he dried. Despite their easy conversation earlier, silence fell between them.

  Though he’d resisted the idea a week ago, he now knew she was that someone he wanted to come home to. Make dinners with, clean up with, and go to bed with her in his arms every night. They just had to get through the next couple days, then see where the ones after that took them.

  As he set the plates back in the cupboard, she pulled the pot off the stove that she’d heated water in
to make hot chocolate. “Want some?”

  “Sure.” He hung the damp towel to air dry and watched her scoop powdered chocolate from a tin into two large mugs. When he found his gaze straying toward the bed instead of the table, he decided to get down to business. “We really should take some time to go over that list.”

  The hand stirring the liquid in front of her stilled. Her glance toward the table told him she knew exactly what list he meant, even though he had yet to show her the one he’d started.

  She slid one mug toward him. Picking up the other, she moved toward the table.

  Joel took the instant coffee he’d found in the cupboard and dumped a heaping tablespoon into his cup. At the table, he located the list and plopped it down in front of her. While she read the names, mug cradled between both hands as if to warm them as she sipped, he sat and stirred his own mix.

  Her face paled as she scanned her eyes down over each name. “I can’t believe any of these people would…”

  He saw her throat muscles work before she lifted those anguished green eyes.

  “Casey? Mark? Gina? All of the people on this list I consider to be friends. Most of them came to the hospital to see me. All of them in fact.” She looked down as if to verify that statement, then looked back up. “That’s how you started this without me, isn’t it?”

  “Gotta start somewhere.” He hardened his heart against her distress, then took a drink and set the mug aside to reach for the list. Picking up a pen, he held it poised to write. “Who else can we add that would know about your ex-fiancé? Give me every name you can think of.”

  She listed a handful of people, thought a moment, and named a few more.

  “Any of the guys ask you out this summer, or even last summer? Maybe show interest beyond being friends?”

  “Kelly. Joe from Circle C asked me out last year.” She paused, then shrugged with obvious reluctance. “Mitch. But he’s only joking when he does it.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes. Everyone knows how I feel about summer flings.”

  And then he’d showed up and pushed. Kissed her at the bar. Couldn’t stay away. His presence seemed to be the trigger, not her.

  Shoving aside the guilt, he thought out loud. “Mitch seemed to check out for the poaching incidents, but with his background, maybe I’ll have Aaron bring him in for questioning. I’ll have him talk to Joe Hastings, too.”

  Brittany frowned and extended her arms to set the mug on the table. She stayed like that, staring at the liquid inside before looking up. “It was nice before.”

  He looked up, but didn’t say anything, not sure where she was going with the comment.

  “Talking about normal things. Like all this wasn’t going on.” She waved a hand at the files covering most of the table’s surface.

  “It was,” he agreed quietly.

  She stood and made her way to his side of the table. Joel sat back so he could look up at her. Something had changed from one breath to the next. He felt it in the energy vibrating in the air around them. Saw it in her eyes as she stood next to him.

  His heart rate kicked up a notch, then skyrocketed when she placed one hand on his shoulder and swung a leg over to straddle his lap. He automatically grasped her hips as her weight settled so close to his groin, but fought against pulling her closer. His newly acknowledged feelings only added to his dilemma.

  “It’s late,” she whispered. “And tomorrow’s going to come soon enough. Can’t we just forget it all for tonight?”

  That soft, breathless voice twisted his insides and turned him on all at once. Aw, hell, he’d been turned on before she even opened her mouth. He stared at her wet, glistening lips and thought about what she might do to him with that mouth. What he’d do to her with his.

  His grip tightened on her hips. “I think you know I’d have no problem doing exactly that, Brittany.” And if she didn’t, the erection throbbing against her inner thigh should be proof enough.

  Her smile confirmed she did know, and those emerald eyes locked with his, so full of invitation his stomach clenched with need.

  He forced the next words from a mouth gone dry with anticipation. “But you’re forgetting one thing.”

  “What?”

  “I also know how you feel about summer flings.”

  Chapter 30

  He would never be a fling. Right now, she was only certain of two things: life was full of uncertainty, and she loved the man fighting with every fiber of his being not to be seduced by her because he thought she would later regret it.

  Tell him.

  Her heart thumped in her chest. No, she couldn’t do that. If honor made him resist sleeping with her, a declaration of love would make him bolt for the door. Not only did she not want to end up in an undignified heap on the floor, but she was running out of time. Tonight, she’d take whatever he would give her and deal with the rest later.

  Summoning another smile, she tilted her head. “Still think you know what’s best for me, Joel?”

  His gaze faltered, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. She leaned forward, increasing the pressure of her hips against his as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Anticipation built. Their breathing became one; shallow, hot, wanting.

  With her mouth a breath away from his, she stared into his eyes and declared, “I swear, the only way I’d have regret in the morning is if you don’t carry me to that bed and make love to me right now.”

  Before the melodramatic words could repeat in her head and undermine her confidence, she leaned in the rest of the way and kissed him until he surrendered with a groan that sounded like it rumbled from the very depths of his soul.

  In a heartbeat, he had her in his arms and strode across the room. One detour secured a couple of condoms from his bag, then he set her to kneel on the bed while he stood alongside it. Without breaking the kiss, he unzipped her sweatshirt and peeled it off. She heard the zipper clunk against the wood floor a second before his hands skimmed back up her arms, his warm touch a sensuous glide against her sensitive skin.

  She managed to drag his shirt up to his armpits before he leaned so far into their kiss she had no choice but to drop back onto the bed. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside, then crawled onto the bed, looming over her on his hands and knees.

  Joel finally smiled. She grinned back, then reached up to bring his mouth back down on hers.

  He shifted to lie beside her, propped on one elbow as he slipped a hand beneath the hem of her tank top. “Do you have any idea what it did to me when you stepped out of the bathroom wearing this earlier? With no bra.”

  The sexy rasp of his voice made her stomach tighten and her nipples hardened. “Should I apologize?”

  His hand stilled, fingers spread along her ribcage. “Yes, I think you should.”

  “How?”

  “Take it off.”

  He watched her in the shadows cast by the light shining from across the room above the table. Slowly, she raised her arms over her head in silent invitation.

  He leaned down and pressed his lips to the exposed skin above her pajama bottoms. As his breath skimmed lightly over her stomach, she squirmed with a self-conscious laugh. “That tickles.”

  He did it again. And again, with each inch of skin he exposed while pushing her top up, until it rested just below her breasts. Impatience prompted her to reach down and grab the hem to yank it over her head.

  She relaxed against the comforter, and he raised his heated gaze to her bared breasts. “Apology accepted.”

  Britt laughed. It faded when he dipped his head back to her navel and slowly kissed his way up along her torso. The combination of his soft, warm lips, hot breath, and the sensual scrape of his whiskers against her skin had her quivering in anticipation.

  When he finally cupped her breast, she sucked in a breath, then held it as he bent to draw the peak into his mouth. Liquid fire shot through her with each suck and stroke of his tongue. He moved to her other breast, and this time, ran his tongue aro
und the tip, then pushed harder, and did it again.

  Oh, God. Exquisite torture. When he drew her into his mouth, she gasped at the sensations scorching a path straight to her core. She arched her back in pure need, raking her fingernails against his scalp. She wanted to feel him. All of him. Beside her. Inside her.

  Her hands clenched, tugged his hair, tried to pull him up. He moved in the opposite direction of her urging.

  “Joel…I want…” Her body ached, throbbed. “I…need…you—”

  “I know.” He continued his downward path, lips once again skimming her stomach until he reached the waistband of her pajama bottoms. After sliding the soft material down the length of her smooth legs, he eased back up, his fingers trailing along the inside of her thighs to delve in the curls between her legs.

  He rose up to kiss her breathless as his hand drove her to the height of pleasure. She couldn’t take anymore, and in the next second begged him not to stop. The orgasm hit harder than she’d ever experienced, leaving her limp in the radiant aftermath.

  “God, that was gorgeous,” she heard him whisper against her neck.

  Embarrassment surged at her absolute abandon, until he lifted his head. The look in his eyes confirmed he’d loved it, and she decided she didn’t care. Not with him. And now it was her turn to drive him wild.

  One push rolled him onto his back, and she dragged his arms up above his head. “Leave them there.”

  As his fingers curled into the pillow, she scooted down to undo the button of his jeans. She took her time with the zipper, drawing the little metal tab down in a slow, deliberate caress. His stomach muscles contracted as he sucked in a breath, then released it with a low groan.

  She grinned, enjoying the rush of power as she stripped the rest of his clothes off.

  Talk about gorgeous.

  The man was all muscle. Her gaze dipped below his waist. Hard muscle, and she intended to explore every beautiful inch with her hands and her mouth.

  She lifted her gaze to his. “Close your eyes.”

  After a moment of hesitation, he complied.

  “Don’t move.”

  A furrow formed on his forehead. His fingers kept their tight grip on the pillow. “Okay.”