Up In Flames: Body HeatCaught in the Act

by Lori Foster

  CHAPTER FOUR

  At ten o’clock, the doctor gave Mick the okay to leave, together with a long list of instructions. Del listened intently and felt confident that she could take care of everything that needed to be done.

  Angel and Celia, along with their husbands, had come and gone already. They’d been there since early morning, but because Delilah now realized that they were in fact Mick’s family, she enjoyed the attention they lavished on him. He treated both women with an avuncular ease, not with the heated awareness he’d shown her.

  Unfortunately, Josh had shown up, too, at the crack of dawn. She’d been asleep when he’d arrived, and was forced to awaken to his scowling face. He’d seemed suspicious of her overnight stay, as if he thought she might have molested Mick in his sleep. Stupid man.

  Though Josh was uncommonly handsome, and could be witty when he chose to be, she wasn’t at all certain she liked him. Whenever he looked at her, his demeanor plainly said he found her lacking. He distrusted her interest in Mick, and showed confusion at Mick’s interest in her.

  Nevertheless, she did appreciate his friendship with Mick. Willingly, he’d brought Mick clothes to wear home, then insisted she leave the room while he helped Mick dress. She would have stubbornly refused—she wanted to help him dress!—except Mick had wanted her to leave, too.

  Delilah had already washed her face and brushed her hair and teeth while his family visited. They’d shown up just as Josh was leaving, and she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of poignant sadness, seeing how loved he was. He had a good family, loyal friends, and she envied him that.

  Hoping to make a better impression on them today than she had yesterday, she’d applied a little makeup and exchanged her slept-in T-shirt for a dark-rose tank top. Though the hospital was cool, out the window she could already see heat rising off the blacktop in the parking lot.

  Now that they were alone again, Mick paced around the room, waiting for an orderly to bring a wheelchair. To Del’s discerning eye, he looked ruggedly handsome with his morning whiskers and tired eyes. He also looked a little shaky. She wanted to coddle him, but she’d already figured out that he wasn’t a man used to relying on others.

  “Does your family live close?”

  He glanced up at her, clearly distracted. With his arm in a sling and his eyes narrowed, he looked like a wounded pirate. “A coupla hours away. They’ll be back over the weekend, I’m sure.” His dark gaze sharpened. “Will that be a problem?”

  “To have them visit? Of course not. For as long as you stay with me, I want you to be completely comfortable. It’ll be your home, too.”

  He looked undecided, as if there was more he wanted to say, then he just shook his head. “We need to come to a few understandings.”

  “Oh?” Seeing Mick flat on his back in bed was one thing. Him standing straight and tall—all six feet three inches of him, moving around the room with flexing muscle and barely leashed impatience—was another. He was an intimidating sight. An arousing sight.

  “I want a few promises from you.” He stalked toward her, as if ready to pounce, and she felt her heart tripping.

  She was a tall woman, meeting many men eye-to-eye. Not so with Mick. He looked down at her, his dark eyes drawing her in, and without thought Del went on tiptoe and touched her mouth to his.

  He froze for a beat, then slanted his head to better fit their mouths together, and caught her with his good arm at the same time. He carefully gathered her close, his large hand sliding up her back to her nape and holding her immobile.

  Del was acutely aware of his arm in the sling between their bodies. Her breast brushed against the stiff cotton restraint and she shuddered, trying to keep space between them so she wouldn’t inadvertently hurt him.

  “Relax,” he whispered, and then his hand left her neck to coast down her spine, down and down until he was squeezing her bottom, cuddling, drawing her up and in until her pelvis nudged his groin. He made a rough sound of pleasure.

  Del pulled her mouth away and rested her forehead on his chest. “This is incredible,” she groaned.

  “I know.” He kissed her temple and asked, “How many bedrooms do you have?”

  Her nerve endings jumped with excitement. “I have two, but I was thinking we’d—”

  The orderly pushed into the room with the wheelchair and gave them a cheery greeting.

  Del felt heat flood her face, more so when Mick gave her a scorching look of understanding. He started to pick up the small bag of items he had to take home, but Del rushed to beat him to it.

  “You just sit,” she said, trying to regain some composure, “and I’ll get this.” Mick kept her so flustered, she could barely think, and she almost left her laptop behind. Without preamble, the orderly plopped nearly everything into Mick’s lap and started out the door. Del hustled after them.

  “It’s stupid to ride in a wheelchair when I’m perfectly capable of walking.”

  “And smooching,” the orderly said in agreement, even more cheerful now that he knew what he’d interrupted. “But it’s hospital policy.”

  Mick stayed silent until they got into the car and were on their way. He seemed inordinately alert, watching everything and everyone, and he soon had Del on edge.

  “Do all PIs act like you?”

  Mick didn’t bother to glance her way when he said, “Yeah.”

  “Are you going to do this the whole time you’re with me?”

  Again, he said, “Yeah.” But then he turned to face her. “You were shot at, Delilah. I wish I could blow it off as bad luck on your part—being in the wrong place at the wrong time—but I can’t. Not yet. Not until the police have a chance to talk to the guy I shot, and that can’t happen until he comes to.”

  She bit her lip. “Do you think he’ll die?”

  “I doubt it.” He turned to look back out the window, hiding his expression from her, but she heard the contempt in his tone when he added, “But don’t feel bad if he does.”

  “I wouldn’t. I mean, I don’t. He could have killed someone.”

  “That’s about it.”

  Given his surly tone, she decided a change of topic was in order. They stopped at a light and she looked Mick over. His hair was thick and shiny and a little too long. The whiskers on his face, combined with the tiredness of his eyes, made her heart swell. Today he wore the softest, most well-worn jeans she’d ever seen on a man. They hugged his thick thighs and his heavy groin and his lean hips and tight buttocks.

  Her pulse leaped at the thought of that gorgeous body beneath the clothes. Tonight, she’d get to see all of him. She’d make sure of it. She was so wrapped up in those thoughts, she almost missed the light turning green.

  She eased the car forward, while her thoughts stayed attuned to Mick.

  The shirt Josh had brought him was snowy-white cotton, buttoned down the front, and looked just as soft as the jeans. The thick bandage on his shoulder could be seen beneath, as could the heavy muscles of his chest, his biceps. “The doctor says you can shower,” she told him with a croak in her voice. “But he doesn’t want you to soak.”

  “Right now, a shower will feel like heaven.”

  “Will you need anything in particular? I could run by your place after I drop you off and pick you up anything you need.”

  “Josh grabbed me a change of socks and boxers. Angel’s taking care of the rest later today. For now, whatever soap and shampoo you have will work.” He glanced at her, smiling just a bit. “Do you use scented stuff?”

  “No.”

  His eyes went almost black. “Good. I love the way you smell. I’m glad it’s you and not from a bottle.”

  Del tightened her hands on the wheel. Boy, much more of that and she wouldn’t make it home. Luckily, he stayed silent for the rest of the ride, and Del didn’t bother trying
to draw him out again. Her heart couldn’t take his idea of casual conversation.

  She pulled up to the garage in front of her building. She had to pay extra to park her car there, but she knew if she left it on the street, it’d likely get stripped. She said as much to Mick as she turned off the ignition.

  “Yeah, I know. I told you I own that building next door, right?”

  Del rushed around to his door to help him—and got a disgruntled frown for her efforts. He was suddenly in an oddly defensive mood, and she didn’t understand him.

  “You told me. I wasn’t sure if you meant the building to the left or the right.”

  He grunted. The building to the left was a shambles. His building was nicely maintained. “Alec used to rent from me, before he married Celia. The agency where he works is located between here and where he lives now.”

  Del cocked a brow. “If he doesn’t live here now, why did he follow us?”

  Mick jerked around. Wary, he asked, “What are you talking about?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Your friend is pretty hard to miss, looking like Satan and all. I saw him a few cars behind us. I suppose this is more of your protection?”

  Tilting his head back, Mick stared at the heavens. “Something like that.” When he looked at her, she could almost feel his resolve. “I don’t have a gun right now. The cops confiscated it as evidence.”

  Del gasped. “They’re not going to accuse you of anything, are they?”

  “No, it’s routine to take any weapon used in a shooting. I’ll get another one before the day is out, but until then, I wanted someone armed to keep an eye on things.”

  Fascinating. He spoke about guns with the same disregard that she gave to groceries. “This is all really extreme, you know.”

  “It’s all really necessary, as far as I’m concerned.” Then he added, “Trust me, honey. This is what I do, and I’m not willing to take any chances with you.”

  That sounded nice, as if he might be starting to like her. But maybe, Del thought, all private detectives were as cautious as Mick. She had no comparisons to go by; she’d never known a PI before.

  Shrugging, she decided not to fight what she couldn’t change, and hefted out her laptop. She put the leather strap of the carrying case over her shoulder along with her tote, and then reached inside for his bag.

  Mick caught her shoulder with his left hand. “Something we need to clear up.”

  Del peeked up at him. He looked too serious, almost grim. Getting to know this man, with all the twists and turns of his personality, would be exhilarating. “Yes?”

  He relieved her of his bag, then her laptop, holding both casually in his left hand as if they weighed no more than a feather pillow. “I’m not an invalid.”

  Her temper sparked. “No, of course not. But you are wounded and you’re not supposed to strain yourself.”

  Without warning, he leaned down and gave her a loud, smacking kiss. His expression was amused and chagrined and determined. “It doesn’t strain me, I promise.”

  “But you can only use the one arm.”

  Slow and wicked, his grin spread. “I can do a lot,” he whispered in a rough drawl, “with one arm.”

  Her stomach curled at the way he said that and what she knew he inferred. She cleared her throat. “I see.”

  “Good. Now lead the way.”

  She didn’t want to. She wanted to insist that he let her help him. He’d done enough already, more than enough. Too much. The man had a bullet in him, thanks to her.

  She turned and marched toward the front stairs. The entry door was old and heavy, and she hurried to open it, anxious to get Mick settled inside.

  Together they climbed the steep stairs to the upper landing, where she used her key on both of the locks for her apartment door, one of them a dead bolt. Being a runner, she made the climb with ease, breathing as normally as ever when she reached the top. She half expected Mick, with his injuries and his load, to huff at least a bit, but he didn’t.

  He did, however, keep a vigilant watch. “I’m relieved to see the landlord keeps the place secure. Not all the buildings in this area are safe.”

  Del looked at him over her shoulder as she reached inside and flipped a wall switch. She didn’t tell him that she’d had the dead bolt installed recently. The front door opened directly into her living room, and one switch turned on both end-table lamps. She said only, “I’m not an idiot. I wouldn’t endanger myself.”

  She tossed her tote onto the oversize leather sofa to her right and reached for her laptop. Mick, who’d been looking around, taking in her modest apartment, held it out of reach, lifting it over his head as if he didn’t have a bullet in his other arm, as if the pain wasn’t plain on his face. His strength amazed her.

  “Where do you want it?”

  Sighing, Del pointed to her desk in the corner, where a half wall separated her kitchen area from the rest of the room. Her desk was the only modern, truly functional piece of furniture she had. A computer occupied the center of the tiered piece, with a fax machine, a printer and a copier close at hand. There were file folders and papers stacked everywhere, notes, magazines, interviews she hadn’t yet put into the file cabinet behind the desk. Reference books littered the floor.

  Mick lifted a brow and boldly glanced at her papers as he set the laptop down.

  His curiosity would have to be appeased another time, Del decided. She took his arm and steered him toward the narrow hallway on the opposite side of the room. “The bathroom is this way. You can shower while I change the sheets. Are you hungry?”

  He’d never admit it, she knew, but he looked ready to drop, pain tightening his mouth and darkening his eyes. Twice she’d seen him rub at his temples when he didn’t know she was looking. The doctor had told her that he was as likely to have headaches from his fall as pain from his wound. Del had a hunch the two were combining against him.

  “After you finish,” she said gently, but with as much authority as she could summon, “you’ll need to take your medicine.”

  Mick stopped in the bathroom doorway and caught her chin with his hand. His gaze burned, touching on her mouth, her throat, her breasts. “After I finish,” he said, his fingertips tenderly caressing her skin, “I intend to see about you.”

  Her knees almost went weak. “Me?” It was a dumb question; she knew exactly what he meant.

  Nodding slowly, he said, “All that teasing you’ve been doing, all that talk about starting an affair, and your bold touching. I’m beyond ready.”

  She really did need to learn a little discretion, she thought, now wishing she hadn’t told him all her intentions. But she was used to going after what she wanted, and he’d been irresistible, a man unlike any she’d ever known. Everything about him turned her on, from the protectiveness she’d never received before, to his strength and intensity, to his rough velvet voice and drool-worthy bod. The man was sexy emotionally and physically, and she wanted him.

  She caught his wrist and kissed his palm. “Mick, you need to rest. There’ll be plenty of time for...”

  He carried her hand to the thick erection testing the worn material of his jeans. Her heart dropped to her stomach, then shot into her throat.

  “You think,” he whispered roughly, his eyes closing at the feel of her hand on him, “that I can rest with that? The answer is no.”

  Her palm tingled and of their own accord her fingers began to curl around him. He lifted her hand away, leaned down and kissed her. “I just need fifteen minutes to shower and shave.”

  Carrying his bag into the room with him, he turned and closed the door, leaving Del standing there with her lips parted and her eyes glazed and her muscles quivering. She sucked in a breath and let her head drop forward to the door, bracing herself there until she stopped trembling.

  His effect on h
er was startling, almost too much to bear. She’d given up on men as too much trouble, with not enough payoff. But with a mere look, Mick could make her hot, and when he touched her, or she touched him, the need was overwhelming.

  She heard the shower start and realized she hadn’t reminded him to be careful. She leaned close and said loudly, “Don’t soak your shoulder! The doctor said that was a no-no.”

  Just as loudly, he retorted, “I was there, Delilah, remember?” And then she heard the rustling of the shower curtain and knew he was naked, knew he was wet....

  She turned and hurried away.

  When he’d answered her, he’d sounded distinctly irritable. Well, hell. Heaven knew, he was likely to be doubly so when he found out she had no intention of making love with him today. It would be too much for him, and there was a good chance he’d injure his shoulder anew.

  No, she couldn’t let him do that.

  She also couldn’t let him go unsatisfied. She closed her eyes, feeling wicked and sinful and anxious. There was only one thing to do. Granted, she was likely to end up the frustrated one, but that was a small price to pay to a man who’d played her hero, a man who’d saved her life. And she had no doubt he’d make it up to her later. She may not have known him long, but she knew that much about him already. The man wanted her—more than any man ever had.

  It was a heady feeling. She liked it.

  She especially liked him.

  * * *

  Mick found her in the kitchen, staring into her refrigerator as if pondering what to fix. A glass of iced tea sat on the counter.

  He shook his head, not yet announcing himself. Foolish woman. How could she possibly think he’d want food when she stood there looking more than edible? Oh yeah, he wanted to eat her up. And he would, slowly and with great relish. “Delilah.”

  She whirled around, first appearing guilty, then abashed when she saw his naked chest. He’d done no more than pull on snug cotton boxers; he had no need of the sling right now, though he kept his right arm slightly elevated to relieve his shoulder of pressure. The bandages there were made to withstand showers and would dry soon.