by Cassie Miles
“He’s not a cowboy,” Sasha said. “He’s a cop.”
“Tell me, Brady. How did you know?”
“It didn’t take a lot of brainpower,” he said. “I’ve seen your surveillance setup. The way I figure, you’ve probably engineered a successful escape from this hotel.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because you know it might be necessary.” Brady didn’t make a move toward the office. Getting in a fight with Jacobson would be a supremely dumb move, and he wasn’t sure he could win. “But the CBI agents made their move too quickly, and you haven’t had time to get Reinhardt away from here.”
“In another ten minutes, he would have been in the wind,” Jacobson said. “What’s the evidence they’ve got against him?”
Brady took out his phone. “I’ll find out.”
Sheriff McKinley answered right away. His voice was high and nervous. “Did you see him?”
“Not yet.” On the surveillance video screen for the concierge level, Brady watched the sheriff and the two CBI agents searching the rooms on that floor. “Can you tell me about the new evidence?”
“Fingerprints. The victim’s purse was with her inside the steamer trunk, and the forensic people found Reinhardt’s prints on a couple of quarters in her wallet.”
“Sounds kind of circumstantial,” Brady said.
“He said he hadn’t seen her in months. What are the odds that she’s been carrying those quarters around for months?”
That was a valid point. “I’ll call you if I find him.”
Brady ended the call and turned toward Jacobson. “Reinhardt has some explaining to do.”
“Let’s talk.”
When Jacobson strode across the room, Brady had to remind himself that the man had a prosthetic leg. His gait was steady and determined. If Brady had been in the market for an assassin, he would have put Jacobson at the top of the list.
Using an optical scanner, Jacobson unlocked his private office. They entered the small room that was neatly furnished with a desk, two computers and several file cabinets.
Reinhardt sat behind the desk with his brawny arms folded on the surface in front of him. “I can’t believe this. Lauren is reaching out from the grave to make my life miserable.”
“Don’t blame yourself.” To Brady’s surprise, Sasha circled the desk and gently patted Reinhardt’s heavy shoulders. “You and Lauren had an intense, passionate relationship.”
He shot her an angry glare. “How the hell would you know?”
“As the only woman in the room, I’m kind of the resident expert on this stuff.”
Brady was both amused and intrigued by the way Sasha had waltzed in here and taken charge. “What’s your evidence, Sasha?”
“It’s been five years since the divorce, and they still can’t stop poking at each other. He’s still paying her off.” She looked directly into Reinhardt’s eyes. “Not to mention that Andrea looks an awful lot like your ex-wife.”
“You could be right,” he said grudgingly. “I never got that woman out of my system. She drove me crazy, but there’s no way I wanted her dead.”
Brady stepped in. Before they all started talking about their feelings, he wanted to get a take on the real evidence, namely Reinhardt’s fingerprints on the quarters in Lauren’s purse. “When was the last time you saw her face-to-face?”
Reinhardt looked at Sasha. “Shouldn’t I have Damien here?”
She nodded. “Sorry, Brady. He’s right.”
“Understood.” Brady stepped back. “A bit of advice. Never run away from the cops. It makes you look guilty.”
Reinhardt stood behind the desk. “I’ll tell you this, off the record. I had breakfast with Lauren in Denver last week. She wanted an advance on her alimony, claimed to be dead broke.”
“Did you believe her?” Brady asked.
“Hard to say. She always exaggerated.” He looked toward Sasha. “What do you call that?”
“She was a drama queen?”
“That’s right. When the bill for breakfast came, she insisted on paying for the tip and calculated the amount down to eighteen percent. She put a couple of coins on the table to show how broke she was.”
“And what happened to those coins?”
“I scooped them up and dumped them back in her wallet. Then I wrote her a check for the alimony advance.”
That was a simple explanation for the fingerprints. If Reinhardt was lying about his intense relationship with his ex-wife, he was a pretty good actor. It seemed more likely that Andrea would have wanted her annoying cousin out of the way.
Brady arranged for the sheriff and the CBI to meet with Reinhardt right here in the security office while Sasha got Damien on the computer for their session of questioning. He was already on his way in the car, but this situation required his immediate attention.
In the outer room with Jacobson, Brady waited and watched normal hotel activities flitting across the many security screens. From the arriving guests to the maids cleaning up the rooms to the busy kitchens behind the restaurants, this complex was a beehive, a world unto itself. Jacobson was responsible for protecting these people and keeping them from harm.
“Do you like your work?” Brady asked.
“It satisfies me.”
His priorities were clear. Take care of the guests, the employees and...the owner. “If I hadn’t guessed where Reinhardt was hiding, would you have helped him go on the run?”
“I would have tried to talk him out of it. Like you said, running makes you look guilty.”
“What if he insisted?”
“If I believed he was a killer, I’d turn him in. But I think the guy is innocent. And I go with my gut.”
So did Brady.
* * *
BY FOUR O’CLOCK in the afternoon, the snow was coming down hard. Seven inches had already fallen, and there was no sign of a break. Riding in the passenger seat of Brady’s SUV, Sasha had just gotten off the phone with Damien, who was running late and didn’t expect to arrive at the condo until nightfall.
She’d managed not to tell him where she was staying, putting him off with a promise to meet with him tomorrow morning at the condo at eight o’clock so they could plan their day. Moreno would be in charge of the investors’ meeting program.
Tucking her phone into a special pocket in her briefcase, she leaned back and exhaled a sigh. “That should take care of business for the rest of the day.”
“I won’t believe that unless you turn off your phone and your computer and unhook yourself from the rest of the world.”
“Sorry, I can’t. What if Damien needed to reach me? What if something came up at the Denver office?”
“There was a time, city girl, when people weren’t on-call twenty-four hours a day.”
“I’m not like that,” she protested. “I’m not one of those people who are always checking their phones and answering emails.”
“Professionals,” he said. “That’s what you want to be.”
A few days ago, she might have agreed with him. She’d always been a little bit envious of the plugged-in people who were so much in demand that they couldn’t take two steps without talking on their phone. But she wasn’t so sure anymore.
He drove the SUV down the snowplowed road to the big house at Dooley’s ranch. Though it wasn’t late in the day, clouds had darkened the sky, and the pure white snowfall dissolved all the other colors into shadows. Lights shone on the porch of the big house and at the front of the barn. In spite of the whir of the heater inside the vehicle, a profound silence blanketed the land.
“It’s not like this in the city,” she said. “Snow means traffic jams and sloppy puddles in parking lots.”
“The best place to enjoy new snow is indoors,” he said as he drov
e past the big house to his cabin by the spruce tree, “with a fire on the grate and extra blankets on the bed.”
It was the first time he’d mentioned bed, and a shiver of anticipation went through her. They hadn’t talked about sleeping arrangements for tonight, and she wasn’t sure what was going to happen. Their kisses whetted her memory. She usually didn’t fall into bed with a guy until after they knew each other very well. But there was something different about Brady. He wasn’t just any guy. He’d saved her life. He’d believed in her when no one else did. And she’d be kidding herself if she tried to believe that she wasn’t attracted to his six-foot-four-inch frame and his long legs and that teasing dimple at the corner of his mouth.
He parked the SUV inside an open garage at the side of the cabin and turned to her. “I put your suitcase inside this morning.”
Looking into his greenish-brown eyes, her heart thumped. “All I have is my briefcase. I can carry it myself.”
She hopped out of the SUV into the cold and dashed to the porch, which was covered by the overhanging roof but still blanketed by an unbroken sheet of snow.
He unlocked the door, and they rushed inside. The corporate condo in Arcadia had the sleek atmosphere of a high-class bachelor pad. Brady’s cabin was the opposite. It felt comfortable and cozy, and she was glad to see that he didn’t share his uncle’s fondness for animal heads. The walls were creamy stucco, decorated with framed photographs of landscapes. And there were shelves filled with well-read books and a couple of rodeo trophies. The floors were rugged wood covered by area rugs in Navajo designs. The furniture looked heavy and handcrafted but comfortable with thick wool-covered cushions.
Her suitcase stood by the door as though it hadn’t decided whether it needed to be in the guest room or sharing the main bedroom with Brady.
“A warning,” he said. “If you want to take a shower, you’ve got to move fast. My hot-water tank is kind of small.”
“I’d rather shower in the morning,” she said.
“Me, too.”
“Then we’ll really have to move fast...unless we shower together.”
He met her gaze and then quickly looked away. “That’s always an option.”
She wandered into the adjoining kitchen and turned on the overhead light. “Should I make some coffee?”
“That’d be great. I’m going to get a fire started.”
On the ceramic tile counter, she found a coffeemaker. The necessary beans, grinder and filter were stored in the cabinet directly above. As she went through the movements, she wondered if he was as hesitant and confused as she was about what would happen between them tonight.
It might be up to her to make the first move. Brady was so incredibly polite. He was an “aw, shucks” cowboy with a slow, sheepish grin. If she really wanted anything to happen, she might have to pounce.
The question was: Did she want anything to happen? Keeping her distance might be for the best. There wasn’t a possibility for them to have any kind of long-term relationship with her living in Denver and him being a deputy in Arcadia. Their life trajectories were worlds apart.
After she finished setting the coffee to brew, she went into the front room, where he’d started a fire and placed a screen in front of the blaze. He’d taken off his jacket and hat, tossing them onto the sofa. The sleeves of his uniform shirt were rolled up on his muscular forearms. Still hunkered down in front of the grate, he hadn’t turned on any of the other lights in the cabin, and the glow from the fire danced in his unruly brown hair and highlighted his profile.
He beckoned to her. “Come over here and get warmed up.”
“That’s okay. I’m not cold.”
He turned his head and reached toward her. “Come.”
His direct gaze sent a tingle of excitement through her. He wasn’t asking her to join him. He was telling her. There was no way she could refuse.
Sasha placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her down onto the handwoven wool rug in front of the fireplace. The warmth from the flames mingled with a churning heat that came from inside as he took her into his arms and kissed her with a fierce passion that she hadn’t felt from him before.
His kiss consumed her. A thousand sensations rushed through her body. Never had she been kissed like this, never. She hadn’t expected fire from him, but somehow she’d known from the first that he was everything she’d ever wanted.
Sasha surrendered herself to him.
Chapter Eighteen
After a few intense moments, Sasha found herself lying on her back in front of the fire with Brady beside her. His leg was thrown across her body, holding her in place, while he took his time kissing her and unbuttoning her blouse. His knuckles brushed against the bare flesh of her torso, setting off an electric reaction. There was magic in his touch. When he ran his fingers across the lace of her bra, she felt as if she was going to jump out of her skin.
She reached for his chest and grabbed a handful of material. “Take off your shirt.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” he murmured. “Why don’t you do it for me?”
He leaned back, giving her access to his dark blue uniform. She definitely wanted the shirt off, but stripping him wasn’t so easy. Her fingers were trembling so hard that she couldn’t get the buttons through the holes. Even worse, there was a thermal undershirt under the uniform. It might take her hours to get rid of all these clothes. Biting her lower lip, she concentrated.
“Hah,” she said, “got one.”
“Need some help?”
“I can do this.” She shoved him onto his back and straddled him while she worked on the shirt. This wasn’t the best position for her to maintain concentration. The hard bulge inside his jeans pressed against her inner thigh, and she couldn’t help rocking against him. What had ever made her think this man was shy?
As he rose to a sitting position, he grasped both of her wrists in his large hands. “Let me take care of your clothes.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Only if you want me to stop,” he said.
“Absolutely not.”
While desire had turned her into a total klutz, Brady was smooth; he seemed to know exactly what he was doing as he held her gently against his warm chest. He reached toward the sofa, grabbed a soft woolly blanket and spread it on the rug in front of the fire. Then he stretched her out on the blanket, stroked the hair off her forehead and gazed into her eyes. “Lie still.”
“Why? What are you doing?”
“First I’m taking off your boots.”
She stared up at the reflection of firelight across the ceiling. Her pulse was rapid, excited. Her senses were on high alert. The crackling of the fire sounded as loud as cannon fire. The scent of burning pine tickled her nostrils.
He pulled off her boots and socks, and the soles of her feet prickled. When he lay beside her, she was grateful to see that both his uniform and his thermal shirt were gone.
Her hands glided over his chest, tracing the pattern of springy black hair that spread across his muscular torso. Touching him gave her much-needed confidence. Dipping her head down, she kissed his hard nipples, and she knew she was having an effect on him because she could feel his body grow tense. Her fingers slid lower on his body. When she touched his belt buckle, he made a growling noise deep in his throat—a dangerous sound that both excited and pleased her.
Before she could reach farther, he had slipped off her shirt and her bra. Suddenly aggressive, he tightened his grasp and held her close. Her breasts were crushed against his chest.
Her mouth joined with his for another mind-blowing kiss. Gasping, she rubbed her cheek against his, feeling the rough beginnings of stubble.
Her clumsiness was gone. She was self-assured and focused. She wanted to explore his body, to learn every inch of him intimately. His male sc
ent aroused her. All man, Brady was all man. And he was hers.
In the back of her mind, she wondered if they should talk about what was happening, to discuss their feelings, and she pushed words through her lips. “What are we doing?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m making love.”
“But is this...?” Was it smart? Was it right? Should they reconsider? Should they try to understand?
“It’s natural,” he said.
And that was enough for her. Her questions and reservations could wait. She forgot everything else. For now, she would live in this moment when they were together, bathed in the flickering light from the fireplace.
His big hands were gentle as he cupped her breasts and teased her nipples into hard nubs. When he lowered his mouth to suckle, a shock wave tore through her. She arched her back, yearning to be one with him.
“You’re beautiful, Sasha.” His voice was a whisper. “A beautiful woman.”
With quick, sure movements, he unfastened her waistband and slid her slacks down her legs. Her white lacy underpants followed. She felt his heated gaze on her body, caressing her from head to toe. And she felt beautiful.
When he lay beside her again, he was naked. She saw him in firelit glimpses. His long muscular thighs. The expanse of his chest. The sharp definition of muscle in his arms. His rock-hard erection pressed into her hip, and she reached down to grasp him. Her touch sent a shudder through his body.
His arms tightened. She felt his strength and his urgency. As she stroked him, her leg wrapped around his thigh and she opened herself to him. A throbbing heat spread from her core to her entire body.
“I need a condom,” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“I have one in my wallet.”
“Behind your badge?”
He sat up beside her on the floor and pawed through his jeans until he found what he was looking for. When he took her in his arms again, he was sheathed and ready.
He mounted her, taking control, and she arched into his embrace. Before, they had been doing a slow dance of lovemaking. Now the rhythm changed. As he pushed against her most intimate place, she heard the blood surging through her veins. She needed to feel him inside her. When he made that first thrust, she cried out in pure pleasure.
