Callie was everything he had once hoped he would find in a woman who would swear to spend the rest of her life by his side. What he’d once hoped, blindly, he had found in Jennifer.
But in Jennifer, there had been only emptiness; the words that had been sworn to had covered shallowness. The irony of it would have amused him had his senses not been spinning faster than the speed of light right now.
Holding Callie, kissing her, desiring her, was causing an electrical storm to erupt within him. Every kiss demanded another, every touch fed on itself, begging for more. Always more.
He began to wonder if he would ever be satiated.
Brent could feel her fingers flying along his skin as she unbuttoned his shirt. He tugged her jacket off her arms, letting it fall to the floor, then realized that there was a bigger obstacle between them than her blouse and bra.
He drew back as his fingers came in contact with leather.
Immediately aware of the problem, Callie drew back, her insides shaking.
“Give me a sec,” she murmured, unhooking the holster that kept her service revolver in place.
The safety was on, but she knew better than to underestimate the power of her weapon. She lowered it to the floor on top of her jacket.
“Better?” she murmured against his mouth.
“Better.” The word tasted of sin and desire and everything that had been missing from her life for so long.
And then there was no time for words, no need for words.
She shivered in anticipation as she felt his fingers parting her blouse. The feel of his hands along her skin caused everything to tighten inside. She felt like a coil ready to spring with the least possible encouragement.
It was not long in coming.
A moment later her blouse was gone, along with her bra, and she was pressed against his bare skin. Feeling it. Feeling the heat that ignited from the mere contact of skin to skin.
She wondered if her heart would eventually hammer its way out of her chest. It would be worth it because she felt as if she’d been caught up in some wild, raging river. She was being swept out to sea and she didn’t care.
Brent dove his fingers into her hair, framing her face before he brought his mouth down to hers again. He was holding her, kissing her, until she was reduced to a pulsating puddle.
And then she felt his hands leaving her face, traveling down the length of her until they came to the single button that held her pleated, pinstripe trousers in place. Callie caught her breath, her abdomen all but froze as she felt him release it.
The next moment he was placing his hands on either side of her hips. Coaxing the fabric from her body. Every nerve ending stood at attention as he deliberately made slow progress, freeing her flesh, readying it for his touch.
Her pulse throbbing in her throat, at her wrists, in her loins, Callie hurried to mimic his movements. She felt as if she was using someone else’s hands. She was numb and pulsating all at the same time.
And breathing was a definite challenge now. Her breath came in short, shallow snatches as her pulse raced and her heart threatened to take off.
With a squeal of triumph, she kicked aside her own clothing and then drew aside his.
Their bodies branded each other.
Over and over again, his mouth sought hers, his hands caressing her even as his kisses grew more intense, more demanding. She felt as if her knees were dissolving. All the strength she possessed was being drained from her body at lightning speed.
And then she felt herself being laid upon the wide, dark sofa. She could feel the marshmallow leather swallowing her up at the same time that Brent was drawing her toward him.
She was surprised the sofa didn’t catch fire. Her body had to be beyond the incinerating point.
Callie threaded her legs around his torso. She was ready for him.
Looming over Callie, his hands braced on either side of her head, Brent looked at her. He was more than half-dazed, his brain foggy about how they had come so far so quickly. This wasn’t his way. He was afraid that he’d pushed an advantage he shouldn’t have.
He wanted her with a fierceness that under any other circumstances would have scared the hell out of him, but he needed to know that she wanted this, too.
Otherwise, he needed to back away. As if he could.
She felt air rushing in, air where his lips had been a moment ago. She opened her eyes and saw him looking at her.
“Callie—”
Oh, no. No talking, not now, not when every part of her body was quivering. Waiting. Wanting.
“Callie,” he began again. “If I rushed you…” If? his brain mocked. He’d stripped her down to her eyelashes and they hadn’t been in his house for more than fifteen minutes. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
He couldn’t have said anything better. She could see he struggled to control himself. Struggled to hold back, almost as much as she was.
“You sure know how to pick your moments, Judge,” she whispered against his mouth, her breath teasing him. “Permission to approach the bench, Your Honor.”
“Permission granted.”
She arched her hips. Giving in to his need, he sealed his mouth to hers as he drove into her.
Finally finding solace.
Chapter 12
Brent didn’t realize that he’d fallen asleep until he opened his eyes. Automatically he looked to his right. The place beside him on the wide four-poster was empty.
Callie was gone.
He sat up immediately. Had there been a call about Rachel? Or had her abrupt departure been triggered by another reason.
They’d gone fast; faster than anything he would have anticipated or prophesied. But what had happened here tonight hadn’t been about planning. Looking back, he knew that it had been about the inevitable.
Their coming together had been just a matter of time. And nothing had ever felt so right. They’d made love twice before coming up to the bedroom where they’d made love one more time and fallen asleep in each other’s arms.
But something had obviously gone wrong after that. Had she been plagued by second thoughts? Regrets?
Throwing back the covers, Brent swung his legs off the bed. His trousers were on the floor, and he quickly pulled them on, intending to go looking for her.
Two steps across the floor and he halted.
Callie was sitting on the window seat, staring out into the darkness. Her legs tucked in under her, her long blond hair tousled about her shoulders, she was wearing his shirt to cover her nakedness.
He’d never seen anything so sexy in his life.
Brent watched her for a long moment in silence before saying anything. He felt as if he was breaking some kind of spell.
“I thought you’d left.”
She’d thought about it. But where would she go? Everywhere she went, she would have had to take herself along, and she was the problem. Or, more specifically, what was in her mind.
Memories.
Guilt mingled with fear in a macabre dance that refused to end.
She continued to look out the window, searching for a way to regain control over her thoughts, over her feelings. Both eluded her.
“No,” she replied softly, “I’m right here.”
Brent came up behind her, looking at her reflection in the window. She looked sad. Was he responsible for that? “Are you all right?”
She could feel tears rising and upbraided herself for being so weak, so vulnerable. “Yes.”
He knew he should back off, but he couldn’t let it go. “You don’t sound all right.”
That was because she wasn’t, Callie thought. Not really. She tightened her arms around herself, as if that could somehow keep the sadness at bay. Make the fear disappear.
The confession came of its own volition. “I haven’t been with a man since Kyle…” She left it at that. Try as she might, she couldn’t force herself to utter the word died.
Callie felt his hands on her shoulders
and raised her eyes to look at his reflection in the window. The glass diminished the kindness, but she could still see it in his eyes.
“That makes two of us,” he told her quietly.
A teasing grin came out of nowhere, spawned in self-defense against the sadness. She covered one hand with her own, taking solace in the unspoken comfort that was offered.
“You haven’t been with a man since Kyle, either?”
He laughed, grateful for the break in tension. “No, but I haven’t been with a woman since my marriage broke up.”
She did a quick calculation. If she remembered correctly, his marriage had broken up over four years ago. Letting his hand go, she turned around to look at him. “Not once?”
“Not once.” It wasn’t the kind of thing a man freely admitted, especially a man who was as private as he was, but somehow, telling her seemed all right. “I kind of lost faith in my capability to make good personal judgments.” The irony of the situation brought a sad smile to his lips. “I feel pretty secure in my abilities to make good calls on the bench, but as far as my private life goes, well,” he shrugged, “you met Jennifer. I’d say my abilities in that area turned out to be pretty much of a bust.”
“One wrong judgment doesn’t brand you for life. Give yourself a break,” she urged. “Everyone’s entitled to make a mistake.” Her mouth curved. Mercifully the sadness was beginning to slip away. “And, speaking off the record, I’d say that not all your calls in that area were bad.”
The light within her eyes warmed something within him. Brent wove his fingers through her hair, framing her head with his hands.
He could feel his smile beginning in his eyes and blossoming until it had reached his lips, taking his complete countenance with it.
“No, I guess they’re not.”
He sat down next to her, gathering her to him. Callie resisted a moment, her independent streak getting the better of her. And then she allowed herself to lean on Brent. A very faint scent of cologne still clung to him and she breathed it in, letting it settle her nerves.
Brent stroked her hair. “Do you want to tell me about Kyle?”
They would have liked each other, she thought. Both were men of integrity, men you could count on. Her heart ached a little.
“He was a great cop. A great guy. And he died all too young. I loved him a great deal. At first I didn’t want to.” She bit her lip, remembering. After a moment she continued, “I was afraid. But he just kept after me and finally wore me down. I loved him with all my heart. I don’t hold back when I feel something.”
Brent kissed her forehead, holding her close. “Yes, I know.” He didn’t know this because someone had told him, it was just something he felt. Just as he felt that if anyone could help him find Rachel, it was Callie.
He kissed her forehead again. And then each of her eyelids as they fluttered shut.
Callie turned her mouth up to his.
Desire stirred again, seizing him tightly as if it hadn’t already visited him three times tonight and been spent. He was thirty-eight years old, and she made him feel as if he was a college freshman, involved in his very first serious love affair.
He wanted her again, wanted her so badly he could barely breathe.
Still kissing her, Brent rose, picking her up in his arms. He walked back to his bed, wanting only to make love with her again. To lose himself in the softness, in the passion that was Callie.
Gently he placed her on the rumpled bed and joined her. The shirt she’d slipped on wasn’t buttoned, and it parted about her body. He could feel a quickening in his loins, could feel the ache for her growing.
But instead of giving in to the increasing demands of his body, he paused to caress her face, to look at the woman who had given herself to him at a price higher than he’d realized.
“I won’t hurt you, Callie,” he whispered.
Her heart ached so badly, she thought it would break right then and there. She placed her hand over his. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
He smiled at her, recalling what she’d said to him earlier when they’d begun this awful search for his daughter. “All we have is our faith and our hope to see us through.”
“Ouch.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. He’d left his trousers unbuttoned, and they’d slipped from his waist as he’d lain down. Callie cradled the palm of her hand along his hip line, feeling the seeds of desire taking root. “You would have perfect recall.”
“It’s a small enough trade-off.” His eyes washed over her, heating her blood. “You have perfect everything else.”
“I had no idea you had such a gift of gab.” Her eyes teased him, belying the excitement that had begun raging within her. Callie positioned herself so that she was almost beneath him, then pulled him closer. “Now shut up and kiss me, Judge.”
His body covered hers. “With pleasure, Detective.”
And then she was lost, lost in the flames that surrounded her, cutting off any hope for a successful exit. Not that she wanted any. What she wanted was for tomorrow not to come, for this to go on forever.
She kissed him hard, putting her very soul into it. The soul that she’d suddenly found again.
But she couldn’t delude herself, pretend that this was going to last forever. Forever was a word that poets used. It didn’t apply to mortals, and she felt very, very mortal at this moment.
But if she couldn’t have forever, or even tomorrow, at least she could have now, and now was all she would ask for. All she wanted. To have him continue to blot out everything else, the world, its overwhelming weight and responsibilities. Everything. Leaving only the two of them on this giant bed that had never known love before tonight if she was to believe him.
And she did. With all of her healing heart.
In the blink of an eye, Callie turned into a tigress in his arms, sparking new emotions from within him, causing him to go to new depths, new heights all at the same time. Digging responses out of him that he hadn’t known existed. Ever.
Their bodies heated, their limbs entwined. Brent kissed and was kissed over and over again until he felt as if he’d become some throbbing, mindless mass of flesh that had been created solely for this purpose, for this moment. And, most important, for this woman.
His heart, kept in isolation all these years, accessible only to his daughter, broke out of its self-imposed prison and beat. Hard.
For Callie.
Brent kissed every inch of her, learning the shape and contour of her body by sight, by touch, by taste until it was completely, indelibly imprinted on his mind, never to be erased. Not by time, not by circumstances, perhaps not even by death.
In that final moment, before he slipped into her, taking what was already his, Brent committed himself to her.
Completely.
Silently.
Sheathed in her body, he held himself in check, going slowly but then at an ever-increasing tempo until restraint was impossible.
Her hard breathing echoing in his head, he unleashed the reins he’d kept around his passion and allowed himself to enjoy the final rush. Enjoying her cry of ecstasy even more.
She’d cried out his name and it resounded over and over again in his head. Brent tightened his arms around her, holding her and the moment to him as closely as he could.
Wanting it to last. Knowing it couldn’t.
But knowing the memory would.
“I think the earth moved just then,” he heard her murmur against his chest. Her breath warmed him. Almost as much as holding her did.
If there had been an earthquake, he would have been too wrapped up around her to have known about it. Especially since he’d been experiencing one of his own, right in this bed.
He sighed, a true contentment undulating slowly along his body. He secretly blessed her for this respite. “We can check the news later.”
“I’m not sure the Richter scale can accommodate this kind of quake.” She raised her head to look at him. Playfully crossing her arms
on his chest, Callie rested her head against them. Her eyes sparkled as she regarded him. “So that’s what you’ve been hiding beneath those judicial robes of yours.”
He smiled at her because she made him feel like smiling all over. Something that he hadn’t felt like doing in a very long time.
“I’m afraid that’s going to have to remain a secret, Detective.”
She pretended to seal her lips. “They won’t get it out of me.”
Something was going on inside of her. Something she didn’t want to identify or give a name to just yet. Something serious. But she didn’t want anything to spoil the moment or detract from it.
She was about to bring her mouth down to his when the strains of the “William Tell Overture” broke the silence and nudged aside the sensual mood that was once more building up between them.
Her eyes widened as a different kind of adrenaline kicked in.
Rolling over to her right, Callie reached for her phone, only to find that she hadn’t left it on the nightstand as was her custom at home.
“Damn,” she muttered.
Callie was on her feet instantly, moving aside discarded bits of clothing in her search for the lost cell phone. Brent joined her, but it was Callie, on her hands and knees, who finally discovered the phone on its third go-round of what had become known as the “Lone Ranger’s” theme song. Somehow the cell had gotten kicked under the bed.
Opening it, she brought the cell to her ear as she dragged her free hand through her hair, trying to do the same to her brain.
“Cavanaugh,” she cried breathlessly, hoping the other party hadn’t hung up.
“Callie? It’s three in the morning, why do you sound as if you’ve just run a marathon?”
Adams. Was this his idea of a joke? Or was he checking up on her just to be perverse? “Because I have,” she snapped, as no plausible excuse came to her. The last thing she wanted was to have Adams start guessing why she sounded so breathless. “Now why don’t you tell me why you’re calling me at three in the morning?”
“We found the car.”
Every nerve ending in her body went on the alert as Callie pressed the small instrument against her ear, praying the signal wouldn’t cut out until she got the pertinent information.
Racing Against Time Page 14
