by Cassie Miles
This was better than she’d imagined, better than she had dreamed of. She writhed under him, driven by passion. His hard, deep thrusts went on and on, taking her beyond mere satisfaction.
Sasha wasn’t very experienced when it came to making love, and she tended to hold back. Not now. Not with Brady. An uncontrollable urge consumed her, and she desperately clung to self-control. She didn’t want these sensations to end but didn’t know how long she could hold on. Hot and cold at the same time, every muscle in her body tensed. And then...release. Fireworks exploded behind her eyelids. It felt as though she was flying, that she’d left her body to soar.
Afterward she lay beside him, breathing hard. She felt as if there was something she ought to say but all she could manage was a soft humming noise.
“Are you purring?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
“I like it.”
* * *
BRADY LIKED HER a lot. Making love in front of the fireplace hadn’t been a plan or a strategy. He didn’t think that way. He had just seen her coming toward him from the kitchen and had wanted to take her into his arms. Why? He couldn’t say. Maybe it was because in his cabin, he felt safe and could relax his vigilance in protecting her. Or maybe it was because he wasn’t sure how long their passion would last. Every minute with her had to count.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“The floor is a little hard.”
He dropped a light kiss on her cheek, lifted her off the floor, wrapped the edges of the soft woolly blanket around her and snuggled her into the big chair closest to the fire.
“I’ll bring you coffee,” he said. “Let me see if I remember. A double-shot macchiato with soy milk, right?”
“Or plain black coffee, no cream or sugar.”
“I can do that.”
On his way to the kitchen, he grabbed his jeans and pulled them on. He was still warm enough from their lovemaking that he didn’t need a shirt. In the kitchen, he filled two mugs and returned to the front room, placing hers on the wooden arm of her chair. Looking down at her gave him a burst of pleasure. She meant a lot to him, more than he would have thought possible after knowing her for only a few days. He hated to think of her leaving, going back to the city.
He carried his steaming mug to the window where he looked out at the snow. Forecasters had predicted the storm would continue through the night and maybe into tomorrow morning, which ought to make the people at the ski lodge happy. The ski slopes had a good base, but more snow was welcome this early in the season.
Taking a taste of coffee, he reflected. So many things were changing. Arcadia was transforming from a quiet backwater town into a destination point. They needed to step up and prepare for new challenges. All the folks that kept urging him to run for sheriff were going to increase the pressure, and he ought to be seriously thinking about taking on that responsibility.
But there was only one thing on his mind: the pretty woman who was curled up in the chair by his fireplace. She was special. Different. When he made love to her, he actually believed that he wouldn’t spend the rest of his life alone.
Crossing the room, he turned on a couple of table lamps before he sat on the sofa next to her chair. She smiled at him across the rim of her coffee mug, and the sparkle in her blue eyes brightened the whole room.
“I want you to stay in Arcadia,” he said. “Give me a week, and I’ll teach you how to ski and how to ride horses.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure, you can. Call it a vacation.”
“Maybe later this winter,” she said. “It’s not like I’m going to the moon. I’ll only be a couple of hours away in Denver.”
“But you’ll be busy with your professional life. You were going to start taking classes.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” She leaned forward and placed her mug on the coffee table. Under the blanket, she was naked, and he caught a glimpse of her smooth white breast before she pulled the blanket more snugly around her.
He swallowed hard. “No classes?”
“I don’t know if law is the right career path for me. I mean, what if Reinhardt is guilty?”
“What if he is?”
Brady had managed to turn over Lauren’s notebook to the CBI agents with a minimum of explanation. They were glad to have a direction of inquiry and would be studying Reinhardt’s finances for offshore accounts. More than likely, the murder would be solved when the CBI figured out who had withdrawn enough money to pay the killer.
“If he’s guilty,” she said, “our law firm would have to defend him anyway.”
“That’s how the system works.”
“How could I represent somebody like that, a person who could commit murder?”
She snuggled under the blanket as though hiding behind the soft folds, protecting herself. Was she scared? Sasha was one of the least fearful people he’d ever met. Her bravado could last for days, which, he suspected, came from being the youngest of five kids. She’d learned not to show her fear.
Gently, he asked, “What are you thinking about?”
“The killer’s face.” She avoided looking at him. “Shouldn’t my memory start to fade after a couple of days? Why do I see him so clearly? The lines across his forehead, the sneer on his mouth, every wrinkle, every shadow seems to get sharper. Is that even possible?”
“Yes.”
He believed her. He had suggested to the CBI agents that they arrange for Sasha to look through mug shots. With their databases and their technology, they could put together a digital array of suspects for her to identify.
They hadn’t been interested in his idea. Eyewitnesses were notoriously unreliable, and Sasha had caught only a glimpse of the killer through binoculars. Other people doubted her ability to recall.
But he believed her. Today he would insist on that digital array. “I’ll set it up so you can look at photos. He’s not going to get away with this.”
She turned in her chair to face him. The hint of fear was gone. “Here’s what I hate. Why should a lawyer have to defend him?”
Brady said nothing. She wasn’t really expecting a response. He sat back and drank his coffee.
She continued, “I know that justice needs to be balanced and every criminal deserves a defense. But I don’t think I could be the one who speaks for a guilty person. I’d blurt out to the judge and jury that they should lock him up and throw away the key.”
“Are you thinking of changing jobs?”
“Oh, I couldn’t. I was really lucky to get this job, and I need the salary. But I’m not convinced that I want to move on in the legal profession.”
“Then my work is done,” he teased. “I’ve gotten one more lawyer off the market.”
“Are cops and attorneys always adversaries?”
“In theory, we’re working on the same side.” But he’d had his share of situations when a high-powered lawyer swooped in and got charges dismissed, turning a drunk driver back out on the road or letting a rich kid think it was okay for him to commit vandalism.
“I’d rather track down the bad guys,” she said, “than figure out what happens to them afterward.”
Before they sank into a complicated discussion of the law, he asked, “How do you feel about dinner?”
“That depends,” she said. “I don’t want to go anyplace else. Do we have to leave the cabin to get food?”
“I’ve got plenty of supplies right here.”
“Then, yes, I’m hungry.” With the blanket wrapped around her like a toga, she rose from the chair. “I should probably get dressed.”
“Don’t bother on my account.”
He grinned when he suggested that she stay nude, but he was only halfway kidding. Her nearness and the way that blanket kept slipping was beginning to turn him on.
“You have a choice.”
“Show me your bedroom.”
He grabbed her suitcase and wheeled it down the hall to his bedroom—a big, comfortable space with a chair by the window for reading and a flat-screen television mounted on the wall over the dresser for late nights when he couldn’t fall asleep.
“Your bed,” she said, “is gigantic.”
“Extralong so my feet don’t hang off the end.”
She climbed up onto the dark blue comforter and primly tucked her feet up under her. Peering through her lashes, she gave him a flirtatious glance. “We never discussed sleeping arrangements.”
“I want you here. In my bed.”
She dropped the blanket from one slender shoulder. “Let’s try it and make sure we fit.”
He didn’t need another invitation.
Chapter Nineteen
As she drifted from dreams to wakefulness, Sasha felt warm, cozy and utterly content. She loved being under the comforter in Brady’s giant bed. As she snuggled against him, his chest hairs tickled her nose and made her giggle.
She should have been tired; they’d made wild, passionate, incredible love four times last night, which had to be the equivalent of running a marathon. But her body felt energized and ready to go.
“Are you awake?” he asked.
She peeked through her eyelids. “It’s still dark.”
“There are a couple rays of sunlight. It’s almost seven.”
And she was supposed to meet Damien at eight o’clock at the condo to plan their day. A jolt of wake-up adrenaline blasted through her. The agenda for her day wasn’t one happy event after the next. It was the opposite. Damien was sure to be angry about not having her at his beck and call at the condo. The investors’ meeting today with Moreno promised to be full of problems since the guru couldn’t allow his sterling reputation to be smeared by an inconvenient murder. Oh, yes, and she was still in danger from the killer-slash-ninja.
She tilted her head back and kissed Brady under the chin. “I wish we could stay here all day.”
“We could try,” he said.
“But it wouldn’t work. I can’t bail out on my job. And you need to be involved in the investigation.” She threw off the comforter and sat up in the bed. Since she hadn’t gotten around to unpacking her suitcase last night, she was wearing one of his T-shirts as a nightie. “How long will it take to get to the condo?”
“Half an hour in the snow.”
“So I’ve got only half an hour to get ready.”
He sat up beside her, completely naked and not a bit self-conscious. “We’ll have to share the shower. To save time and hot water.”
She liked that plan but didn’t want to rush through a shower with him. Soaping him up and rinsing the suds away should be done slowly and meticulously, giving her the chance to savor every steely muscle in his body. “You go ahead. I’m just going to throw on clothes. I can’t be late.”
There was only one bathroom in his cabin—a large expanse of tile with a double sink and an old-fashioned claw-footed tub with a see-through circular shower curtain. With Brady in the shower, steam from the hot water clouded the mirrors above the sinks as she splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth.
The awareness that he was naked behind that filmy curtain was driving her crazy. But she was determined to be on time. “Hurry up.”
“There’s room in here for you.”
She groaned with barely suppressed longing. Oh, she wanted to be in that shower. Damien had better appreciate her sacrifice.
* * *
“I SHOULD FIRE YOU.”
Sasha gaped. She’d knocked herself out to get here on time. She and Brady had entered the condo at five minutes until eight o’clock. Damien had asked Brady to wait outside the front door, which was insulting but necessary to keep the deputy from overhearing any privileged information.
He’d sat her down at the counter in the kitchen, refreshed his own coffee without asking her if she wanted any and made his announcement.
“Why fire me?” she asked.
“This shouldn’t come as a surprise.” In the absence of a necktie to adjust, he straightened the collar on his gray sweater. “You could have stayed here last night, but you chose otherwise.”
She had expected a reprimand, but threatening to fire her was way over-the-top. No way would she let him get away with it. “Are you saying that you’d fire me because I wouldn’t spend the night with you?”
“Certainly not,” he said in the cool baritone he used to mesmerize juries. “That would be sexual harassment, and I have no intentions toward you other than expecting—no, demanding—a professional performance of your duties.”
“But I’ve been professional,” she protested. She’d run the meetings in his absence, recorded them and made sure he was hooked in via computer when his presence as an attorney was required.
“I’m disappointed in you, Sasha. I’ve gone out of my way to nurture your career at the firm. Some people might think I was expecting a quid pro quo where I scratch your back and you scratch mine, but—”
“Did you lead anyone else to believe in this quid pro quo?” She translated into the non-Latin version: sleeping with him to get favors on the job.
He lifted his coffee mug to his unsmiling lips. “Small-minded people draw their own conclusions when they see an attractive twenty-three-year-old woman rising so quickly through the ranks.”
Her jaw tightened. She hadn’t been goofing off. As his legal assistant, she’d put in hours and hours of overtime doing research and filing court documents. All her good work was going up in smoke. “You still haven’t told me why you’d terminate my employment.”
“Let’s start with whatever idiotic urge compelled you to spy on the Gateway Hotel through my binoculars.”
“That wasn’t smart,” she conceded, “but the consequences turned out well. Because I witnessed the murder, I could state, unequivocally, that our client was innocent.”
Damien shrugged. “I’d be willing to forgive if that was your only indiscretion, but you failed on a more important level. You betrayed the sacred bond between client and attorney.”
“Confidentiality,” she said.
“Do you deny that you shared information you obtained from me or from one of our clients with Deputy Brady Ellis?”
She couldn’t categorically say that she hadn’t told Brady about a few details he’d shared with her about the investigation. She knew that she’d mentioned that the Denver police considered Westfield’s death to be murder. “I’ve said nothing that would affect or harm our clients.”
“That’s not for you to decide,” he said. “Confidential means you keep your mouth shut. I partially blame myself for your failure. I should have counseled you about how difficult it can be for attorneys to work closely with law enforcement, especially when the cop in question is a tall, good-looking cowboy.”
Her lips pressed together, holding back a scream of frustration. What a sleazeball. He was insinuating that Brady had seduced her to get information, which was patently ridiculous. “He was acting as my bodyguard.”
“I’m sure he kept his eye on your body.”
She couldn’t pretend that she and Brady hadn’t slept together last night. Nor could she claim a lack of culpability. Damn it, she’d broken confidentiality. She should have known better. And so should Brady.
Her job wasn’t the most important thing in her life, but she didn’t want to lose it. Not like this, anyway. She didn’t want that stain on her record.
Straightening her shoulders, she faced the sleaze and asked, “How can I make this right?”
“I’m afraid it’s too late.”
“You’re going t
o need my help at the meeting.” He had no idea what she actually did to record those sessions and make sense of them.
“You bring up an interesting but irrelevant point,” he said. “There won’t be any more meetings with the Arcadia investors. Moreno has pulled out because he doesn’t want the association with Reinhardt and the murder. Thanks to you, my negotiations are falling apart.”
As soon as he spoke, she got the full picture. Damien was setting her up to take the blame for the collapse of the Arcadia partnership and the possible loss of revenue to the firm. He could twist every contentious issue and every argument to look as if it was her fault. Given this scenario, she wasn’t just losing the job with the Three Ss. Nobody would ever hire her again.
“I have a proposition,” she said.
He chuckled. “You’re joking.”
“What if I could convince Moreno to come back into the fold? I know he’s staying at the dude ranch and he wants to buy that property. I might be able to show him how it would be to his benefit to maintain ties with the resort.”
“And why would he listen to you?”
That was a fair question, and she didn’t have an answer. For the past couple of days, Moreno had been going out of his way to talk to her. If she stopped and listened, she might be able to change his mind. “I’d like to try.”
Damien’s cool but slimy gaze rested on her face. Never again would she think of him as handsome or eligible. He was a self-serving creep who, unfortunately, had a vast influence over her future employment. Even if she wasn’t working for him, she’d need his recommendation.
“Talk to Moreno,” he said. “If you can get him back on board, you can keep your job.”
She jumped to her feet. “You won’t be disappointed.”
Halfway to the exit from the condo, he called after her. “Sasha.”
Now what? She turned. “Yes, sir.”
“Leave the notes and your briefcase.”
