by Lori Foster
Her hands full of clothes, Celia looked up in surprise. “I’m not.”
He pointed out the obvious. “You’re packing.”
She looked confused, then finally shook her head. “It’s time to go home. We’re done here. You said so yourself.”
Alec narrowed his eyes and said low, “We had a deal, lady.”
She dropped the clothes and stared up at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
Very slowly he shook his head, then advanced on her. If he didn’t touch her soon he was going to lose it. When he was standing right in front of her, he said, “You promised to do what I want if I helped, and the day isn’t over yet. I figure you still owe me till morning.”
“Alec…”
“I want you in bed.” He scooped up her suitcase and dropped it on the floor. Clothes fluttered out, and he gained Celia’s immediate ire. She went on tiptoe to yell at him, making it damn near impossible for him to hold back a smile. He’d take her fire any day over the dejection she’d just been feeling.
With one finger, she pointed at the bed while never looking away from him. “That is the very worst place for me. Yes, I made a deal with you, but that was when…” Her voice trailed off. She dropped back flat on her feet and stepped away. She bit her bottom lip.
Alec picked her up and, despite her struggles, got her stretched out on her back on the mattress. “When what, honey?” He kissed her beautiful face, her tipped-up nose, her lush mouth. “Tell me.”
Celia turned her face away. “When I thought I could stand it. When I thought I could love you and just walk away.”
His heart breaking, Alec touched her chin and brought her gaze back around to his. Celia drew in a deep breath. “But I’m not as strong as you, Alec. And Jacobs’s little slap didn’t hurt nearly as much as your rejection and lack of respect.”
“Celia.” He’d held back too long, and kissing her seemed like the most important thing in the world to him, an affirmation that she was truly alive and well.
Celia didn’t fight him. Her mouth opened to his, and the kiss was gentle but deep, hungry and giving. Alec cupped her face in his hands, careful not to hurt her bruised cheek, and fed off her, knowing he’d never have enough, that three lifetimes wouldn’t be enough with this woman.
When he finally pulled back she gulped down a sob and practically yelled right in his face, “You’re a fool, Alec Sharpe! And a damned coward.” Her voice cracked and she said in a quavering tones, “Because if you weren’t, you wouldn’t give up on love.”
Alec smiled. “I know.”
“You’re also—what do you mean, you know?”
It was past time he told her how he felt, how much she meant to him. “I respect you, Celia. More than any man or woman I know. You believe in something, like saving Hannah, then you do whatever it takes to get the job done. Not many people have that much conviction, or are that brave.”
“Really?”
She looked so skeptical he wanted to bundle her up close and never let anything hurt her again. “I also trust you, and worry about you.” He kissed her, a kiss so giving he had to fight his own tears. “And I love you. More than anything this earth has to offer.”
She sucked in a startled breath. “You love me?”
Alec swallowed hard, then scowled, trying to cover his loss of control. “Hell, I must, otherwise I surely would have strangled you by now for always scaring me half to death. Look at what you do to me, honey.”
He held out his hand and they both saw that he was still shaking like a wet pup. His voice dropped even lower and he groaned, “I thought I might lose you, and that’s something I couldn’t bear. You’re right when you say I’m a coward. I used to be afraid of what you made me feel, of how you affected me. Now I’m just afraid of having to go on without you.”
Big tears slid down her cheeks, but they were happy tears. “Oh, Alec, I was so scared!”
He understood the delayed reaction, of how the adrenaline rush would wear off and you were left depleted and hollow inside. He settled his body more firmly over hers, surrounding her with himself, his heat and his love. He whispered, “The fear is normal, babe. But the important thing is that you kept your head. You didn’t panic and you reacted when you needed to. Everyone gets in over his head every now and then, and you’re not immune. But you handled yourself well, and I think you’ve more than proved you have what it takes to make a great P.I.”
His very well-rehearsed speech was met with mute surprise.
Alec cleared his throat. “I’d only ask two things, though. One, that you not endanger yourself like that again. No more undercover stuff because my heart really can’t take it. And two—”
Celia laid her palm on his mouth. She was smiling, a wide, happy smile now. “Alec, when I said I was afraid, I wasn’t talking about today, though that was pretty scary, too. I meant I was so afraid that you’d never want me, that you’d never love me back.”
He kissed her palm and then pulled her hand away. “Not a chance, babe. You’re definitely stuck with me.”
“Alec.” All the love she felt was there for him to see, and now, it filled him up rather than shaking him.
He wanted to get back to business and see things settled. “Number two, would you marry me, Celia?”
She froze for a heartbeat, then squealed in excitement. Alec laughed, aware of how tense he’d been holding himself, not sure of her answer because he’d never been easy with her. But with the choke hold she had on his neck, he figured her answer was yes. He still wanted to hear her say it.
“Answer me, woman.”
“Yes!”
“And about the undercover work?”
Celia pulled back just enough to laugh in his face. “Alec Sharpe, being married to you will likely be all the excitement I need.”
As she pulled his head back down, intent on seducing him if he didn’t miss his guess, Alec muttered, “Somehow I don’t think I’ll be able to hold you to that…”
EPILOGUE
“YOU KNOW EVERYONE’S going to think you’re pregnant with the way Alec rushed things.”
Celia looked down at where Angel, moderately pregnant herself, straightened a ruffle in Celia’s elegant wedding gown. Alec had somehow, with her mother’s help, gotten everything arranged in just under two months.
“My mother is hopeful.” Celia grinned, knowing that didn’t quite answer Angel’s implied question. But she had no intention of telling anyone until after she’d told the father.
Angel scowled and slowly straightened. Dane, Angel’s overly doting husband, came into the room just then and hurried to assist his wife.
“You shouldn’t be bending like that,” he said, and gently hauled her to her feet. Once there, he pulled her close and kissed her—then didn’t want to stop kissing her. Celia just smiled, since Alec now behaved in a similar fashion, always touching her, kissing her, making sinfully naughty, exciting promises in her ear that he knew would make her blush and make everyone else curious.
She blushed now, just thinking of the night to come. Her wedding night.
Angel pulled away, then shook her head at both Dane and Celia. “You two are incorrigible. Just look at you both. Dane, behave. And Celia, what in the world are you blushing about? It’s not like you shouldn’t be used to your brother by now.”
Dane chuckled. “She’s used to me. It’s Alec that has her getting all flustered. You should see him pacing around outside. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was actually nervous. And he asked me how long he had to hang out at the reception before he and Celia could get away. Good grief, you’d think he could at least wait a few hours.” Dane cast a teasing glance at his sister. “I think you’ve managed to pickle his brain.”
Angel sniffed. “If you’ll recall, I said all along they were meant for each other.”
“Yes, you did. But it still boggles the mind.” He cast another swift glance at Celia. “I thought she drove him crazy. And he’s such a damn loner—”
&nbs
p; Celia sighed. “Used to be a loner—not anymore. And for your information, I do drive him crazy. It’s one of my more redeeming qualities. He says it keeps him on his toes.”
Dane and Angel both grinned. “Is that what it does to him?”
Organ music started in the background. Celia had been in the room for over an hour, getting the last-minute primping taken care of, with Angel’s help. She should have known her brother wouldn’t be able to stay away from his wife that long.
She started to shoo them out the door so they could take their places, when suddenly Alec was there, looming in the doorway, looking incredibly sexy in his black tux. His golden earring glinted, but his hair had been trimmed, still a little long, but there was no need to tie it back. Celia sort of missed that ponytail, but even without it, he was gorgeous enough to bring the heat right back to her face.
He looked vastly annoyed and gave her his patented killer glare, which still made grown men cower but had no real effect on Celia. “It’s been hours. What’s taking so long?”
Angel squealed and tried to shield Celia behind her body. “You’re not supposed to see the bride before the ceremony!”
“The damn ceremony is beginning and everyone is in here.”
Dane laughed out loud, shaking his head and taking his wife’s hand. “Leave him be, honey. He’s got it bad.” He tugged Angel away, then out the door. To Alec he muttered, “You really ought to get a grip.”
Alec stepped forward and lifted Celia into his arms. “Now that I have a grip on you, maybe we can get this show on the road.” Without hesitation, he started out the door.
Celia tucked her face into his throat. “It’s pretty unorthodox for the bride to be carried to the altar by the groom. What will people think?”
“That I love you and don’t want to wait anymore.”
He made that statement in his usual certain, determined way, then followed Dane and Angel into the crowded hall.
Celia kissed his throat. “I suppose it’s a little unorthodox also, for the bride to find out on the day of her wedding that she’s going to be a mama, but then, we’ve never done things by the book.”
Alec froze. Celia could feel him tremble before she got such a tight squeeze she had to squeak in protest. As Alec entered the main room, carrying Celia with no effort at all while kissing the breath right out of her, applause broke out. The organ music continued, and the baffled bridesmaids fell into step behind the groom.
Dane, laughing again, said, “What the hell,” and went over to grab his wife, pulling her out of line and keeping her at his side. The rest of the procession, confused, merely found a spot to stand around Celia and Alec.
Celia’s mother was thoroughly scandalized, but she couldn’t quite keep the grin off her face. Little Grayson, Dane and Angel’s son, cheered loudly next to his grandmother.
When the preacher cleared his throat—twice—Alec finally managed to release Celia from the kiss. But against her mouth he whispered, “You just can’t help but constantly take me off guard, can you?”
And Celia, laughing and crying and ruining her carefully applied makeup, kissed him again and said, “It’s what I do best, Alec.”
He stared at her mouth, ignored the snickering in the audience, the coughing of the preacher, and Dane’s outright laughter. He answered, “Oh, I wouldn’t exactly say that….”
UNCOVERED
CHAPTER ONE
BECAUSE IT WAS DRIZZLING out, Harris Black pulled on a windbreaker before he headed outside to jog. Streetlamps left long slithery ribbons of light across the wet blacktop drive. After the heat of the mid-August day, the light rain had a sauna effect, making the air downright steamy.
He preferred jogging at night for two reasons: less human and automotive traffic, and Clair Caldwell.
Clair lived in the apartment building across the lot and always joined Harris in his evening run. For a dozen different reasons, Harris liked her a lot.
Unlike most women, Clair enjoyed the same things he enjoyed—televised sports, running, and junk food. Not once had she ever forced him to sit through a romantic comedy, thank God. But once, on a lazy Saturday afternoon, they’d watched the entire Alien series, back to back, without budging from the couch.
Clair’s job fascinated him. When two well-respected private investigators relocated their offices close to Chester, Ohio, the town they lived in, Clair had jumped at the chance to work for them as a receptionist. She was an adventurous sort and enjoyed the excitement of the job. But her duties went beyond secretarial. She was a computer guru, helping with online investigations, and an all around know-it-all. She always had entertaining stories to share.
By the same token, she liked to hear about his work and his friends. Being a firefighter left him open to a lot of bawdy jokes, and Clair seemed to know them all. She teased him about the fires he put out, the length of his hose, and his specialized gear. But when he was serious, she was too, automatically picking up on his moods in a way no one else ever had. Even with his best friends, Buck, Ethan and Riley, he had to put on the occasional front. No one wanted a morose or moody friend, even if he’d just spent hours fighting a fire that sometimes didn’t have the best conclusion. They always wanted to joke him into a better mood.
Not Clair. Once, after a really grueling car fire that resulted in two deaths, Clair had just sat beside him on the couch and held his hand. They’d stared at the television, but Harris knew neither of them was really paying any attention to the movie.
What mattered most about Clair, though, was the no-pressure tone of their relationship. He saw her when he wanted to, yet he never felt he had to call. Oddly enough, because of that, he called and hooked up with her often.
They hung out without any implied intimacy to muddy the waters. She didn’t care if he shaved or if he ate Twinkies for lunch or if he stayed out all night with the guys. At first, her disinterest had bugged him, but after Ethan and Riley had up and married, Harris became leery of smiling women—and with good reason. The females had detected a nonexistent pattern of matrimony, and they pushed him constantly, to the point that he’d about given up dating.
Which meant he was celibate and that sucked, but it beat dodging topics of “happily ever after.” Nothing messed up good sex like a woman grasping too far into the future.
With Clair, sex was never an issue. It just didn’t come up. They were friends, totally at ease with each other, but neither of them ever crossed the line. It was such a relaxing relationship that he spent more time with Clair than with his buddies. Of course, Ethan and Riley now preferred the company of their wives, anyway.
As Harris stepped out from beneath the building’s overhang, a fat raindrop landed on his nose. Given the heavy static in the air, he knew it’d be storming before they finished their run. He sprinted across the lot at the same time that Clair’s doors opened and she strolled outside. Harris stared toward her with a smile.
Her personality put her somewhere between an egghead and a jock; she loved sports of all kinds, and was almost too smart for her own good. But no matter what the situation, and despite a lack of feminine flair, Clair always looked stylish. Granted, it was her own unique style, but her appearance was always deliberate, not one created out of lack of taste or time.
A few weeks ago she’d cut her glossy, dark brown hair shorter, and now she wore it in a stubby ponytail that looked real cute. She’d attached an elasticized band to her black-framed, oval glasses to hold them on her head while she ran. Somehow, on Clair, the look of an athletic librarian worked.
With her hair pulled back that way, Harris noticed for the first time that she didn’t have pierced ears. In fact, he realized he’d never seen Clair with jewelry of any kind. Odd. In this day and age, he thought every grown woman had her ears, if not other body parts, adorned. But then he’d always known Clair was different from other women.
At five feet five inches tall, she would be considered medium height except that she was all legs. Very long, sexy legs tha
t even in clunky running shoes looked great. Tonight she had those gams displayed in comfortably loose, short shorts. Like Harris, she’d made a concession to the rain and wore a nylon pullover.
Harris looked up at the black sky. There was no moon, no stars to be seen through the thick clouds. Branches on the trees bent beneath an angry wind. Debris scuttled across the road. “Looks like we’ll get one hell of a storm tonight.”
“Backing out on me, sugar? Afraid you’ll melt in the rain?” She swatted him on the ass. Hard. Then took off.
Grinning, Harris followed. “Paybacks are hell, sweetheart.”
To tease him, she put a little extra sway in her backside for a few steps, then she got serious again. They ran side by side, silent except for the slapping of their sneakers on the damp ground and the soughing of their steady breaths. Within fifteen minutes, the drizzle changed into a light rain. Clair said nothing, so Harris didn’t either. He could take it if she could.
After about a mile, Harris glanced toward her. She wore a concentrated expression, and her short ponytail, now darker with rain, bounced in time to her long stride. “Anything interesting happen at work today?” he asked.
She scrunched up her brow. “Dane caught a guy screwing around on his wife.” Disgust dripped from her tone. “Dane was pissed when he came in to file it. Said the wife was real sweet and better off without the guy, but that she was bawling her eyes out.”
“Shame.” Harris didn’t want to marry, but if he ever did, he knew he’d be a faithful hound. He thought spouses who cheated were lower than slugs. If you wanted to screw around still—as he did—then you shouldn’t say the vows.
Clair pushed a little harder, her feet eating up the ground with a rhythmic slap, slap, slap. “I wouldn’t cry.” Her hands balled into fists and she picked up her pace even more until they were running instead of jogging.
“What would you do?”
The seconds ticked by and she slowed, gradually going loose and limber once again. With an evil, anticipatory grin, she said, “I’d take a ball bat to him. Then I’d leave him.”
