Apparently Kane’s superior knew nothing about Kane and Kayla’s late-night activities. Unlike other men, he hadn’t been quick to brag that he’d scored with Kayla Luck. She wondered what that meant other than the fact that he didn’t want to jeopardize his career.
The captain had questioned her about her business and clientele but was less than forthcoming about the reasons behind the police interest. He said he’d leave the divulging to his best detective. She suppressed a cynical laugh. Kane was good all right, at more things than just his job.
He crouched down until they were eye level. Razor stubble covered his cheeks, adding to the dangerous edge she’d only imagined before. The musky scent of his skin mixed with subtle aftershave heightened her awareness and put her senses into overdrive.
He bore no resemblance to the salesman who’d wined and dined her the day before, yet he was still the same man who intrigued her on a primal level. A man she didn’t know. Yesterday’s clean-cut appearance had obviously been another lie for her benefit. She had the distinct impression she now faced the real Kane McDermott.
She cradled her head in her hands and glared at him.
“You might not like me much right now. Hell, I’m not too thrilled with myself. But you aren’t going home alone. It isn’t safe.”
“I agree,” Catherine said. She folded her arms over her chest and waited.
“Would you please find something to do?” Kane muttered. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Catherine glanced at her sister. Kayla didn’t like it, but she and Kane had unfinished business. “It’s okay.” With a nod, her sister headed for the back room.
“She always act like your mother?” he asked.
“Only when I’m being threatened.”
“And that’s what you think I’m doing?”
“I don’t know that any more than I know who you really are. Last night was obviously a setup.” She ignored the hurt the knowledge brought. “You’re investigating me and my business. What for?”
His deep inhale warned her she wouldn’t like what came next. “Prostitution.”
Her hand moved of its own volition, cracking across his roughened cheek. Tears quickly followed. She swiped at them with her sleeve but he’d seen anyway. He didn’t flinch, but in his eyes she viewed the same glimmer of emotion she’d caught last night. He masked it just as fast.
He was good at hiding his feelings and even better at hiding himself.
She swallowed over the painful lump in her throat that threatened to grow larger. Not only had he treated her like a hooker, but he’d thought she was one, too. “I didn’t know detectives were into such hands-on investigation.”
“Last night had nothing to do with the investigation.”
Kayla folded her arms across her chest and remained silent. Her mama had another expression she’d ingrained into her girls: Give a man enough rope and he’d hang himself with it.
“The date, the setup, the dinner…those were part of the job,” he admitted. “What came after wasn’t.” The subtle darkening of his eyes spoke of sexual heat and need. The softening of his features hinted at something more. “By the time we finished dinner, I knew you were innocent,” he said.
Kayla inhaled. Mama was wrong in this case. Kane wasn’t hanging himself. He’d taken a step toward redemption, not further condemnation. Yet how could she believe his words when everything that came before had been based on a lie?
She’d given her body to him in ways that bespoke trust. She could have given her heart. He’d repaid her faith with the deepest violation she could imagine. But she still sensed an innate decency. One she wanted to believe in.
“Do you always offer money to the women you sleep with?” she asked.
Silence greeted her. Apparently she trod on sacred ground. “How reassuring,” she said dryly. “My sister will take me home.”
“Not unless you want her in the line of fire.”
“There’s no danger.” Kayla swept her hand in the air, gesturing to the expanse of the room. Her head pounded in time to the motion. She winced but continued. “Look around you. No valuables, no merchandise…nothing. The guy didn’t find what he was looking for. He won’t be back.” Despite the pounding pain, she put all her energy into convincing him so he and his lies would disappear.
He shrugged. “Depends. Is that why you don’t have an alarm system here? There’s nothing anyone would want?”
She nodded, then regretted the jerky motion. She gripped the armrests of the chair until the dizziness and pounding subsided.
He placed a firm hand on her thigh. He might have meant to steady her, but his touch did more than reassure, it aroused—aroused buried feelings as well as sexual need.
“Do you have a burglar alarm at home?” he asked.
She cleared her throat. It still hurt to speak. “Don’t need one. The guy probably thought he’d get money, then he was interrupted. He won’t bother me again.”
“I disagree and if I’m right and your sister gets hurt, will you be able to live with yourself?”
He’d hit her weakness and obviously knew it. Kayla wouldn’t risk Catherine’s life just to get Kane McDermott out of hers. “You’re slime, you know that, Detective? You want to act as my personal home safety system? Fine. Park your car in the driveway and have a blast. Just remember to turn on the heater. I don’t want your death on my conscience.”
“Careful, Kayla,” he said in that husky voice that caused an erotic tingling deep inside. “I might begin to think you care.”
“Fat chance.”
“Same with me hanging out in my car. The paramedics said you vetoed the hospital so you need someone to watch over you.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And you’re offering your services?” The thought of spending any time with this man who pulled her mind, her heart and her body in opposing directions was impossible.
She didn’t trust her response to him, yet she trusted him to keep her safe. The contradiction wasn’t lost on her. It was just one of many. “No way are you staying with me.”
“You won’t put your sister at risk, which leaves you alone. What if the guy shows up again? You were no match for him the first time. What makes you think you’ll do a better job injured?”
“Like I said, you’re slime, McDermott.”
“I never argued the point, Ms. Luck.”
Kayla saw Captain Reid approach. “I’m through here. Feeling better?” he asked.
“If I don’t move,” she said wryly.
He turned to Kane. “Remember what I said. Call if things turn serious—and enjoy your time off.” The older man walked out into the cold afternoon.
“Time off?”
“Looking after you,” Kane said. “And before you argue, remember I already won this argument. I’ll go square things with Catherine.”
She opened her mouth and shut it again. He might have played on every weakness she possessed at the moment, but he was right. Catherine wouldn’t leave her for the night unless she knew she had protection. Kayla wouldn’t be comfortable alone in the first floor of the old two-family house in which they lived. She loved the many windows because they let in light, but they left her vulnerable. Besides, she could barely lift her head.
Like it or not, she needed Kane.
“THIS PLACE IS A burglar’s dream,” Kane muttered to himself. He paced the kitchen and small family area of the rented house. One step inside the unprotected home had cemented his decision to stay no matter how high the personal risk.
He’d waited outside the bedroom while Kayla changed into a T-shirt he’d found in a drawer filled with satin and lace, scented with the tempting fragrance his body associated with Kayla Luck. Her full breasts and soft flesh were known to him now. Desire and arousal would be his companions as long as he remained in this house.
Apparently so would longing and misplaced dreams. He’d settled her into bed, a pastel, feminine mass of ruffles and pillows. A safe haven that like Kayla reminded hi
m of warmth, home and a sharing of lives. Things he never had and never would.
She was a luxury he couldn’t afford. They hadn’t just shared quick and easy sex, the kind that left both parties unfulfilled after the initial peak subsided. With Kayla it was complicated, involved and made him inefficient in his job, the one area of life he’d always been able to count on before.
He scrounged through the old wooden kitchen cabinets and found a can of soup. She needed something to eat and this was about all he was capable of making without turning her stomach even more. He’d check her again and then fix her a warm meal.
He entered her room and watched her in silence. Eyes closed, pale skin and blond hair falling over her cheek. She looked like an angel. His angel, he thought and stifled a curse. More softness he didn’t need. Focus on the job, McDermott. He eased himself to sit beside her on the bed. The mattress shifted under his weight. She rolled toward him and moaned.
The sound twisted his gut. “Are you in pain?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?” Her eyes remained tightly closed, her arms wrapping the down comforter even more tightly around her body.
“I can’t give you anything except Tylenol.”
“I…took…some.” Her teeth began to chatter. “Can you turn up the heat?”
“I already did.” He’d anticipated the chills. Once the aftermath of her ordeal hit and her adrenaline levels decreased, he’d expected some reaction.
“Not…working.”
“How about a cup of hot soup?”
“Can’t sit up.”
Kane muttered a prayer for strength and slid beneath the covers. She curled into his waiting warmth. Her soft curves molded against him and her satisfied sigh echoed in his ears. Two things hit at once. A hot, urgent desire to be inside her, and the need to protect her from further harm.
Reminding himself she needed his body heat and not him, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, the only advantage he’d take under the circumstances. “Better?” he asked.
“Much.”
Silence settled around them, seeming to bounce off the walls of her room. A sense of contentment followed. Kane fought against it.
Without trying, she wove a spell he didn’t understand, made him desire things he couldn’t have. He inhaled her fragrant scent and felt himself being pulled deeper.
“I need you.” She spoke so softly he had to strain to hear.
“I’m here now.” The only promise he was willing to make.
BRIGHT SUNLIGHT SHONE through the bedroom window. Kane groaned and squinted into the glare. “Worse than a damn hangover,” he muttered, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.
As a cop used to undercover work, waking Kayla every two hours hadn’t left him irritable and beat. Lying beside her, holding her and listening to her soft moans each time she moved did him in. The last check had been—he looked at his watch—an hour ago. She’d been light-headed but okay.
“Kayla?” He glanced over to find an empty bed and sat up fast. Throwing off the covers, he walked to the hallway bathroom. The sound of running water greeted him and he rolled his eyes at her foolishness. What made her think she could handle a shower alone?
He tried the doorknob and it turned. At least she hadn’t locked herself inside. He opened it a sliver. “You okay in there?”
“Not really.” Her voice sounded weak.
Kane didn’t wait for permission. He barged inside. The bathroom was compact and steam floated around him. The scent of lemons hovered in the air. He ripped aside the shower curtain to find Kayla sitting on the floor of the porcelain tub, her head between her legs.
He slammed his fist against the large faucet and shut the water that had been pelting her body. “Can you lift your head?”
“Not by myself,” she said, the words muffled.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?” He stepped barefoot into the wet tub, braced his hands beneath her arms and pulled her into a standing position.
“Taking a shower.”
“I noticed.” Droplets of water clung to her bare skin. He had a sudden desire to lick them off one by one. Instead he pushed her wet hair off her forehead so he could look into her eyes. He never got the chance.
She collapsed, unable to stand on her own. He swore and swung her into his arms, grabbing a towel before making his way back to the bedroom. Her wet skin soaked through the T-shirt and jeans he’d kept on the night before—more as a physical barrier to temptation than for modesty’s sake. But barriers meant little when he had Kayla naked and needy in his arms. She clung to him, her head nestled on his shoulder and her wet body snug against him for warmth.
She trusted him. Impossible, he thought. He’d given her no reason. She needed someone and he was available. “You should get dressed.” He placed her on the bed and wrapped a towel around her shaking shoulders.
“I just wanted a shower, but…” Her teeth began to chatter.
“Too much too soon. Especially on an empty stomach.” He rummaged through her drawers again and pushed the most flimsy things aside. She’d need help, and he’d be wrapping a bra around her full breasts. His hands would be too close, his mouth too tempted. He settled on plain white, no frills, things that covered as much as possible. Then he picked a shirt, a man’s football jersey. He didn’t dwell on where she got it. At least it was large enough to keep him from staring. He was in too deep already.
“Here.” He walked back to the bed. She still sat huddled in a tight ball. He worked the shirt over her head. “Raise your arms.” She complied and her breasts lifted higher, her darkened nipples inches from his face.
“To serve and protect,” he muttered as a reminder.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Then stop mumbling. This is embarrassing enough already.” He ditched the bra. Better to get this over with.
She wiggled a bit and the shirt fell around her generous hips.
“Think you can handle these?” He dangled a pair of briefs from his fingertips.
“Yes.” She blushed scarlet. At least her coloring looked better than before. He turned to give her some privacy. A couple of deep breaths and he had himself under control.
“Thank you, Kane.”
He turned. “No problem.”
She lay propped back against the pillows. Soft hair fell around her face. A yearning gripped his insides hard.
“The steam made me weak,” she said.
“You don’t get out of that bed without my permission.” Finding her on the tub floor had taken years off his life.
A weary frown crossed her lips. “I need sleep.”
“First, you need to eat.”
“Looking out for me, catching me when I fall, cooking my meals…Careful, McDermott, or I might think you care for more than your case.”
He caught the teasing in her voice. “Fat chance.”
She met his gaze. “Same with me following orders. I’m not some flunky you can boss around.”
The words were stronger than her voice, but he accepted her warning. Once she felt better, Kane would have his hands full keeping her in line and out of harm’s way. “What are you, Ms. Luck?”
“Your equal and I suggest you remember that.”
His respect for her rose once more. She’d taken a beating, but she kept pulling herself up. Kayla was a fighter. He liked that about her. She could handle herself, but this wasn’t an ordinary situation. When she felt stronger, he’d question her about her aunt and uncle’s dealings.
Meanwhile, he wasn’t about to lighten the severity of her situation. “You take care of yourself or I’ll cuff you to the bed.” He gestured to the wrought-iron headboard behind her pillows.
She grinned. “First whipped cream, now bondage. Are you kinky, Detective?”
“Keep that up and you’ll find out.” The sudden banter and teasing caught him by surprise. So did the vision of her naked, shackled to the bed, eager to play sexual g
ive-and-take.
Her eyes darkened. He wondered if she was considering the possibilities, then reminded himself he’d had his one night. He refused to take another.
Kane rose. Her fingers around his wrist stopped his escape. Warmth seeped into the places she touched.
“Running away?” she asked.
“Getting you food.” Before he drew her down onto the mattress and gave in to baser, misplaced desires. Before he let himself drown in all she had to give.
She released her grip and struggled to a sitting position. “Okay.”
He raised a suspicious eyebrow.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You gave in.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I know what’s good for me.” She grinned. “Besides, we already established I’m easy.”
KANE DISAPPEARED into the hall. Kayla leaned back against the pillows and groaned. Sparring with him had sapped what little strength she had left. The dizziness was better, but Kane was right—she needed to eat. Food would give her the energy to get out of this bed, deal with her aunt and uncle’s legacy, and confront Kane, all on her terms.
Kane. What did he want from her? And what did she want from the tough cop?
“Lunch.” He saved her from having to answer.
Standing in the doorway, he was the epitome of every fantasy she’d never allowed herself to have. A strong, capable, caring, sexy man…concerned about her.
She glanced at the mug in his hands, pushing herself to a sitting position. “Vegetable?”
“Was there another kind?” he asked wryly. He handed her the white ceramic cup. The steaming mug warmed her hands. She inhaled and the aroma of beef stock and vegetables drifted upward. Her stomach grumbled aloud. He chuckled.
Refusing to be embarrassed, she took a grateful sip before meeting his amused gaze. “Canned soup at its finest.”
Laugh lines formed in attractive crinkles around his eyes. “It’s the closest thing to homemade you’ll get from me. Come on. Drink up.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Do you take such good care of all your assignments, Detective?”
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