by Lori Foster
“Are you kidding? She’s fabulous! One of my favorite authors.”
That got Del’s attention. “Thank you. You’ve read me?”
Celia rushed closer. “Each and every one. Ohmigosh, that last one had me on the edge of my seat. When the car went off the bridge into that river...” She shivered, as if remembering the scene.
“I did that, you know,” Del told her. When Celia stared wide-eyed, Del nodded. “It’s true. Of course, I took some lessons first, so I wouldn’t drown myself, but then we found this old bridge that no one uses anymore, and the instructor and I took the car right off the side.”
Beside her, Mick growled, “What the hell are you talking about?”
And in an awed whisper, Celia said, “Angel didn’t believe me that it was you. I mean, that you’re the author who really did all those things.”
“The coffee will be done in a minute,” Alec said, interrupting another angry outburst from Mick. “Why don’t we go back in the living room and Celia can grill you like I know she’s dying to?”
Del loved talking about her work, and she allowed herself to be tugged into the room. Mick held her hand tight, and as soon as her backside found a couch cushion, he demanded, “What the hell do you mean, you drove your car off a bridge?”
Angel gasped. “Then it’s true? It’s really you?”
Mick didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Delilah, what’s going on? What are they talking about?”
“You don’t know?” Alec asked, then shared a look with Dane. To Del, all those shared looks felt like a conspiracy. Regardless of her attempts, she was still an outsider in their group.
“Know what?” Mick’s gaze narrowed on Del, dark and almost...predatory. A hush fell, everyone watching with expectation.
Del turned in her seat to face Mick, unsure of his sudden change in mood. He sounded angry for some reason, and he looked more than a little disturbed.
Maybe he needed another pain pill, though he kept refusing them. “I explained how I do my research, and about the interviews, Mick.”
“You said you visited a prison, not that you drove your car into a river.”
She took exception to his tone, especially in front of their guests. She wanted the visit to go well, not be ruined by an argument.
Attempting to sound reasonable in the face of his growing ire, she explained, “I knew what I was doing. I took diving lessons and a class that teaches you how to keep from panicking. I learned all kinds of neat things. You see, under murky river water you sometimes get disoriented because it’s so dark.” She shivered. “Really nasty, if you want the truth. But if you let out just a little of your breath, the bubbles will rise and show you the way to the surface.”
Mick groaned.
“Also, if you stay calm, your heartbeat is slower and you use less oxygen, so you can hold your breath longer. I wasn’t very good at that part of it, though. I couldn’t hold my breath long at all. Still, it was pretty exciting to—”
“Drive your car,” Mick rasped in an ominous voice, “deliberately off a bridge?”
Del frowned. Unlike Angel and Celia, Mick didn’t seem at all impressed with her career. Not that she expected or needed him to be impressed. In fact, it was kind of refreshing that he didn’t seem in awe.
She was used to a variety of reactions, most of them gushing, some fascinated, even disbelieving. But not angry. That was a reaction she’d never encountered. “It was kind of neat.”
“Neat?”
That one word held a wealth of scorn and incredulity. Del lost her temper, too. “I may have done a lot of...eccentric things, but it’s my life and I can damn well—”
“What other eccentric things?” he demanded. “What else have you done?”
She heard Dane mutter something, and Alec chuckle in return. Those two seemed to find everything amusing, and this time Del had the distinct impression they were laughing at her, or rather her predicament.
Indignant, she gave them each a look of censure, not that it had any visible effect; Dane winked at her, and Alec continued to smile. Men, she thought, and decided to ignore their misplaced humor.
Though her heart hurt and embarrassment threatened, Del stood and walked to her bookcase. She pulled out her first book and addressed the women, while deliberately disregarding the men—Mick especially. “For this story I learned skydiving.”
“I’ve always wanted to try that,” Dane admitted.
Despite her resolve to ignore him, Del glanced his way. “I learned how to do it without a chute. Another jumper passed me one in midair.”
Mick closed his eyes and groaned. He definitely sounded in pain this time.
“For heaven’s sake,” Del said, thoroughly exasperated. “I had a chute! I just pretended I didn’t. And there were plenty of other people jumping with me, trained for that sort of thing. Rescue jumpers were there in case something went wrong. Besides, we practiced a lot first in simulated jumps before I actually did it.”
Angel piped up and said, “I remember the villain in that book had to steal a chute off another man. That man almost died, but being the male protagonist, he didn’t.”
“I never kill the male leads.” She looked at Mick. “That would ruin the romance aspect of the books.”
He groaned again.
Celia, like a true adventurer at heart, asked, “Did you take a chute off someone else?”
Alec immediately hauled her to his side and wrapped his brawny arm around her shoulders. “Don’t even think it,” he warned, and he looked deadly serious, his expression fierce. Celia just smiled.
“I didn’t want to go that far,” Del said, a little distracted. It fascinated her the way Celia and Alec interacted. He looked so savage, so menacing, yet Celia wasn’t the least threatened by him. Just the opposite; Celia cuddled closer. “I learned how to put a chute on in the air.”
Mick bolted to his feet. He looked ready for a full-fledged rage. The only other time she’d seen him like that was the day of the robbery, when he’d rolled to his feet after being shot, and raced out the door. That day his eyes had been nearly black with rage—as they were now. His jaw had been clenched tight, too—as it was now.
She wasn’t quite sure what to make of him.
Lifting her chin, Del pulled another book off the shelf. “In this one, I learned how to navigate through an underwater cave.”
“That was the creepiest scene,” Celia whispered. “There were sharks and poisonous snakes. It gave me nightmares.” Then she added, “It was also my favorite book.”
Del went to her desk, pulled out a pen and signed both books. She handed one to Celia and one to Angel. “Here, a gift.”
Celia clutched the book to her chest. For a long moment she was speechless, then she blurted, “Thank you!”
Angel looked amazed. “You don’t have to do this.”
Del shrugged. “I get some copies for my own use.” She hoped to change the subject so Mick would quit scowling. It didn’t work.
Attempting a relationship was hard work. Now she remembered why she’d never much bothered. Of course, that was before Mick, with guys who were easy to dismiss.
She couldn’t dismiss Mick.
Angel scooted to the edge of her seat. “Where do you get your ideas?”
She’d been waiting for that question; without fail, it always got asked. She smiled, then for almost half an hour answered questions and explained about her work and laughed and had fun. Mick didn’t appreciate hearing about her research techniques, but the women, especially Celia, hung on her every word.
When Del admitted that she had a looming deadline and intended to put in a few hours of writing that night, Alec pushed to his feet. “We need to be heading home. It’s getting late and Celia—” he gave his wife a cautious look “—is getting ideas.”
Dane also stood, saying in an aside to Del, “Alec is a worrier.”
Del looked at the big dark Alec, towering protectively over his petite blond wife. He looked l
ike a marauder, not a worrier. “If you say so.”
Angel leaned against Dane and sighed. “We’ll let you get to your work.”
Del blushed. “I didn’t mean to run everyone off.”
“Not at all. Dinner was wonderful and the company was even better. But the kids will be getting antsy at their grandmother’s.”
“You have children?”
“We have two,” Angel told her. “Grayson, who’s twelve, and Kara just turned ten.”
“Our Tucker is nine now,” Celia said, “and looks just like his daddy.”
Alec’s frown lifted into a smile of pride. “The kids would love to meet you, Delilah.”
Mick forestalled Del’s reply by saying, “I’ll tell you all about them tonight.”
Del seemed to be the only person who heard his lingering undertone of annoyance.
Angel bent a fond look on Mick. “He does love talking about the kids, so prepare yourself.”
“That’s because they worship him,” Dane added. “It’s almost nauseating how they fawn all over him. Especially Kara. The boys aren’t quite as bad as she is. But as you probably noticed with Zack’s daughter, females love Mick.”
Angel elbowed Dane hard, which made him grin and kiss her mouth. Del had already noticed what an affectionate bunch they were, always touching and teasing and kissing.
Mick obviously loved these people, and they loved him, but now, rather than making her feel excluded, the sight of them all together touched her heart and made her yearn for things she’d never considered before. They were wonderful people.
At the moment, though, Mick was busy throwing them all out.
Del watched as Mick herded everyone toward the door. She had the distinct feeling he wanted privacy so he could yell at her. Not that she’d let him. No one had yelled at her since she was a little girl, and she wasn’t about to let Mick start now.
Celia surprised her by giving her a hug and telling her she’d cherish the book. Del felt a little silly. It was only a book, but she enjoyed Celia’s enthusiasm.
Angel followed suit and hugged Del, too, whispering in her ear, “It’s so nice to see Mick confused by a woman.” She leaned back and grinned. “Thank you for taking such good care of him.”
“My pleasure.”
Angel’s mouth quirked. “I can see that it is.”
Mick stood at the door until everyone had gone. Del didn’t wait around for him to start complaining or questioning her. She gathered up the coffee cups and carried them to the kitchen.
He stepped up close behind her. “Delilah.”
She could feel the tension emanating off him in waves. It made her tense, too. “Call me Del.”
Her hands shook. She refused to turn and face him, choosing instead to rinse out the cups and put them in the dishwasher.
He ignored her order. “Why,” he asked in a barely audible growl, “do you do all this crazy stuff?”
“You mean like bringing strange men home to my place? I was just wondering the same thing.”
She’d meant to distract him from his grievances, but her ploy didn’t work.
“Hell, yes, that’s part of it. Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation at all?”
She tightened her hands on the edge of the counter. “I learn what I need to know and I don’t take unnecessary risks.”
He stepped closer, crowding her against the sink. His anger was there, pulsing between them. But there was something else, something more. Her skin prickled with awareness as she felt his erection nestle against her bottom. Her breath caught.
“Tell me why you do it, babe.”
She swallowed hard. “The media claims I do it because I like writing about heroes, about guys who can win against all odds, solve twisted mysteries and get the bad guy every time. They psychoanalyze that I’m setting myself up as a heroine.”
“Are you?”
“No.” It was difficult to think with him so close, and so aroused. “My parents say I’ve always been too creative and too frenetic. I’m not content to sit idle.”
His hot breath touched the side of her throat as he spoke. “I can see that.” He nuzzled her, making the fine hairs on her nape tingle, her breasts swell. “You’ve got more energy than any woman I’ve ever met. And you don’t think about things, you just act.”
“You’re...you’re complaining?” His words sounded disgruntled, but his touch was so gentle, so exciting.
His good arm came around her waist and squeezed her. “The things you’ve claimed to do are insane, Delilah.”
“Look who’s talking! A man who deliberately takes a bullet in the back.” She forced enough room between them so that she could turn and face him. Her hand trembled from a mix of anger and excitement as she reached up and touched his jaw. “What if that bullet had hit something vital? A lung or your heart or your spine? You could have been killed.”
“I’m trained to react.”
She snorted at that bit of idiocy. “They don’t train you to get shot, do they? I thought PIs did sleuthing, not gunplay.”
He looked away from her gaze and focused instead on her mouth. “We do what we have to do.”
“And that includes nearly getting killed for a stranger? At least I take every precaution when I do my research.”
His eyes, when they met hers again, were so dark, so intense that Del felt consumed by him. “I couldn’t bear the thought of that bullet hurting your soft skin,” he whispered. He leaned lower and kissed her, tiny biting kisses from her throat to her ear, to where her neck met her shoulder.
Del shivered, then forced herself back in control. “I can’t change who I am, Mick. This is what I do, what I enjoy doing.”
He pressed his face into her throat and simply held her. It was a tender, possessive embrace and made her heart rap hard.
“Not since before Angel married Dane have I felt the need to protect someone.”
She slipped her fingers through his silky hair, over his neck and the hard joint of his shoulder. “I don’t need you to protect me,” she assured him softly. Then, touching the bulky bandage on his back, she added, “I don’t even want you to try to protect me. Especially not when you get hurt in the bargain.”
His head lifted and he stared at her hard. “Tough. We’ve forged a bond, you and I, whether you like it or not.” He tangled his hand in her hair and tipped her head back. “You did take me in, not just into your home but into your bed. If you didn’t mean it, you shouldn’t have started it.”
“Mean it?” She found it hard to breathe with him watching her so intently, as if he could see her soul. “What...what does that mean?”
“It means you’re mine now.”
He continued to study her, probably waiting for her to refute his claim, but Del had no intention of doing so. No one had ever wanted to protect her. No one had ever wanted to claim her.
She swallowed. “I was going to clean the kitchen—”
“Leave it,” Mick ordered.
“—but I’d rather go to bed with you.”
His jaw hardened and his pupils flared. He caught the back of her head and drew her up for his kiss. He tasted so good, and she leaned into him until she heard him groan.
“Mick...” Very gently, she pushed him back. “You should take your medicine.”
“Not this time, sweetheart.”
“Your shoulder—”
“Will be fine. I promise.” He took her hand and started toward the bedroom.
Del admitted to herself that she wanted to let him have his way. Never in her life had she felt so hungry for a man. Never had a man been so hungry for her.
The bedroom door closed behind them and Mick leaned against it. “In the morning,” he said, “we’re going to talk. Without distractions.”
Del had no problem with that plan. “You’ll tell me more about the kids and how you and Angel met and about your background?”
There was only a slight hesitation before he nodded. “All right.”
&
nbsp; “I’m curious about you, Mick.”
His gaze moved over her, hot and anxious. “We haven’t had much time for talking, but we’ll catch up. For now...”
“For now, I want what you want.”
He pushed away from the door, his smile slow and lazy. Hot.
“As long as you don’t hurt yourself,” she qualified.
Mick again caught the back of her neck and lifted her to her tiptoes. Against her mouth he said, “You can help me out by taking your clothes off.”
She smiled. “And yours, too?”
“God, yes.”
* * *
Mick knew he should have put off the lovemaking in favor of getting a few things straightened out, but he seemed to have little control around her. That in itself was a worry. He was used to an icy indifference in most situations, an iron discipline that never wavered.
Especially where women were concerned.
Too many things didn’t add up, and now that he understood the lengths she went to for research—his blood nearly froze every time he thought of it—new questions were beginning to surface about the robbery. He couldn’t let lust make him lose sight of the possibilities.
She kicked out of her sandals while unbuttoning her blouse, and his discipline shattered. She didn’t undress slowly to tease him. Rather she tore her clothes off as if she felt the same burning urgency as he.
Mick braced his feet apart to keep himself steady while she stripped bare. Her frenzy fired his own.
Tomorrow they would talk. But tonight, he’d make her his in every way.
CHAPTER SEVEN
In no time, Delilah stood before him wearing only a lacy bra and skimpy panties. He was so hard he hurt. He could feel the hot pulse of blood through his veins, the heavy, rhythmic beating of his heart.
Slowly, savoring the moment, Mick walked to her. With just his fingertips he touched one taut nipple straining against her bra. “Don’t move,” he whispered, and bent to take her in his mouth.
Her moan was raw and real and satisfying. Mick took his time, suckling her, teasing with the tip of his tongue, the edge of his teeth. He felt the heat rising from her slim body, her restless movements, her heavy hot breath.
“Mick, please.” Against his instructions, she tangled her fingers in his hair and tugged. He straightened and began working his own buttons loose.
