Riley

by Lori Foster

  “You can’t be careful enough. Do you intend to be home before dark every day? And what does it even matter when by your own admission, you’ve been attacked during the day? You can’t imagine how many ways an intruder can get into your house without you even knowing.”

  Her slim brows pulled down.

  “What if someone doesn’t want to steal from you at all? What if someone just wants revenge?”

  She pushed to her feet to pace away. Riley noticed her hands had curled into fists at her sides, evidence that she’d had the same worry. “Stop it. You’re trying to scare me.”

  Riley set the dog beside him and stepped up behind her. “Bullshit. I am scaring you. And you know why, Red? Because you’re smart enough to know I’m right.” He clasped her upper arms and pulled her back against his chest. Her hair smelled sweet. She smelled sweet. And soft and female and delicate. She demolished his control and intentions without even trying.

  Riley pressed his jaw against her temple, and in a roughened voice, said, “Will you check every room, every closet, under every bed and in every corner each night when you first go in? What will you do if you find someone, crouching in the dark, waiting for you?”

  Jerking around to face him, she said again, “Stop it.”

  His hands closed over her shoulders and he brought her to her tiptoes. “The hell I will. You say the threat is real. I believe you. So don’t be dumb, Regina.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” She was so shaken, she practically wailed, then thumped him solidly on the chest. “Hide? Stop living? I have work and friends and errands….”

  He caressed her tense shoulders. “Let me help.”

  “By moving in?” She shook her head. “No, I won’t do that. It wouldn’t be—”

  “Proper? Screw proper. Who’s going to know besides our friends?” She started to walk away from him and Riley crushed her close. Her eyes flared. “Improper beats the hell out of dead any day.”

  The dog started barking, anxiously looking for a way off the couch. But he was too small to try jumping down.

  “You’re upsetting my dog.”

  “Misery loves company.” He kissed her, hard at first, but when she went immobile, then soft and sweet against him, he gentled. Her hands curled against his chest, telling him she liked the kiss almost as much as he did. He caught her face, held her still while he sank his tongue in. Her heartbeat pounded against his chest, her soft moan vibrated between them.

  Riley carefully pulled back. Her eyes stayed closed, her lips parted. “Listen to me, Red. I’ll do everything I can to figure this out before you’re due to move. I swear it. But I don’t want you living alone.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered, lifted. Slowly, comprehension dawned and she looked beyond him, then stepped away to scoop up the dog. With her back to Riley, she went about soothing Butch. “If you’re that close, you know what will happen.”

  “We’ll sleep together.” He crossed his arms over his chest, anxious for it to happen, wondering if she’d admit it.

  “Every time you touch me, I forget who I am.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I’m not the type to get carried away with the moment, but when you’re kissing me, it doesn’t seem to matter.”

  She would be ready, more than ready, by the time he got her in bed. He’d see to it. “It’s going to happen no matter what, Red. You know that.”

  She swallowed, then nodded. “I know.” She looked none too pleased with that admission, making Riley frown.

  A real gentleman would have told her not to worry about it, that he’d control himself, protect her. He wasn’t that much of a gentleman, and he wanted her too much to start playing one now. “We’ll go slow.” As slow as he could manage, considering he’d held himself at bay for weeks already.

  She walked over to the balcony doors and looked out. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be…coy. It’s just that I can’t be cavalier about sex.”

  Her honesty was refreshing, something he hadn’t expected. “You don’t need to apologize to me for speaking your mind. But we’re both adults, both uninvolved.” When she didn’t look at him, he said, “I don’t mean to push you…”

  Her laugh sounded strained. “That’s all you do is push.”

  His smile caught him by surprise. “For your safety, yeah. But I’m not cavalier about sex, either. No one in their right mind is these days.”

  “Then I know a lot of men not in their right mind.”

  He wouldn’t think about her with other men. It’d make him nuts. But he could be honest in return. “I can’t promise not to touch you, Red, because I will.”

  Her shoulders lifted on a deep breath. She waited, anxious and still.

  Seeing her response, Riley took two steps closer. “Is it worth your safety? Is avoiding me worth risking your life?” And because he knew she already loved her little dog, he pressed her, saying, “Is it worth risking Butch’s life?”

  He waited, and finally she turned. She looked sad, resigned. “No. I tried ignoring the threat. I tried to believe it was all coincidence like everyone said. I wanted to just go on with my life, keep doing what I always did, keep working.” She shook her head and said in a nearly soundless whisper, “I almost got Rosie killed.”

  Riley knew she still felt guilty for allowing Rosie to be involved, even though everyone knew Rosie did just as she pleased. Ethan couldn’t control her, so it was for certain that Regina would never sway Rosie from something she chose to do.

  “I know the risks now, but the thing is, Riley, I can’t just hide away. I love my job and I won’t give it up. Yet, that’s when a lot of things seem to happen. Out of control cars, purse snatchers…”

  “I have an idea about that, too.” A stupid idea, one he was sure to regret, but damn it, he had to be certain she was safe. “You wanted to interview me.”

  Sudden excitement lit her eyes. Both she and the dog stared at him, she with delighted surprise, Butch with mere curiosity.

  After clearing his throat, Riley forged on. “Well, here’s your chance. I’m on vacation for the next two weeks. While you finish up any current assignments, I’ll accompany you—and no, there’s no negotiating on that point, not if you want to interview me next.”

  “That’s blackmail,” she pointed out, but she didn’t sound too upset about it.

  “Take it or leave it.”

  For three heart-stopping seconds she hesitated. Her slow smile gave him warning. “I’ll take it.”

  Already dreading it, Riley nodded. She sounded enthusiastic enough to make his stomach clench. “During the evening we’ll work on your training. I want you to have at the very least a basic understanding of self-defense. While you’re still in the apartment, I’ll check into the things that’ve happened to you to see if I can turn up anything.”

  “But hasn’t it been too long?”

  “Maybe. But maybe not. Cops file all their reports, so I’ll check through that and see if anything jumps out at me. Back when things first happened, they were looking at each incident with the thought that you were a hysterical woman. I’ll look with the thought that you’re in danger. Two very different perspectives.”

  She licked her lips. “It happened in Cincinnati, not Chester.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll find what I need to get started.”

  Still she stood there.

  Riley touched her cheek. “Try not to fret, okay? Everything will work out.”

  “And if you haven’t found out anything when it’s time for me to move?”

  He’d have kissed her again, but Butch started a low rumbling, ears back, body poised to attack. The little dog had enough to get used to without worrying that Riley was accosting his new mistress. “Then you’ll continue to stay with me.”

  “With you? But I thought you—”

  “Intended to move in with you? No. My place is already secure. And look at it this way, you can use the time to get your new home up and running.” And in the interim, he’d
have her—in his home, under his protection and in his bed.

  The setup worked for him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  BUTCH DIDN’T LIKE sleeping alone.

  Regina found that out after a long night of listening to pitiful howls that finally broke her down. At two in the morning she gave up, retrieved Butch from his pen in the warmest corner of her kitchen, and carried him to bed.

  He did a reconnaissance of the perimeter, sniffing every corner of her bed, her pillow, the sheets, before crawling under the covers. She watched the lump move here and there, then finally settle close to her. He dug—endlessly. She had no idea what he thought he was doing, but he ignored her pleas to stop and finally curled up behind her knees. She couldn’t move without making him grumble.

  For a four-pound dog, he was sure bossy about his comfort.

  At six, when her alarm went off, Butch scampered out, yawned hugely in her face, then wanted to play. When Regina only blinked at him, he reared back on his haunches, barked and nipped her on the nose. She groaned, which he took for a sign of life and started bouncing around the covers like a tiny rabbit. He could stop and start so fast, darting this way and that, it was comical. Even half-asleep, she grinned as he raced up to her, gripped the edge of her pillowcase in his teeth, and began tugging.

  “Okay, okay.” It was a sorry truth, but she wasn’t a morning person. She’d tried over the years to become one, only because it seemed like the thing to do. Good, honest people went to bed at a decent hour and rose early to begin their day. They didn’t lie around for hours, being lazy.

  Well, she was decent and honest, but she just couldn’t force herself to be alert first thing. It took her at least two hours and a pot of coffee to get her head together. Before that, she didn’t want to face the world. And with the way she looked in the morning, she doubted the world wanted to face her.

  Moving around in the dark, she made a quick trip to the bathroom, turned on the coffeepot, which she’d prepared the night before, and put Butch out on his lead so he could potty. Because the morning was damp that late July day, he finished in a flash.

  With only a dim light on over the sink, she slumped at the table in her cozy cotton jammies, nursing her first steaming mug of caffeine. Butch curled in her lap, content just to be with her—until a knock sounded on her door.

  She froze.

  Butch did not.

  In what she now considered typical Butch frenzy, he leaped from her lap and ran hell-bent for the door. He made so much noise, she knew any thoughts of ignoring her early-morning caller were shot. Through the peephole, she spied Riley standing impatiently in her hallway, and she ducked away as if he might see her, too. Good God. What was he doing at her door so early?

  “Open up, Red. I can hear Butch, so I know you’re up and about.”

  No. A thousand times no. Still plastered to the side of the door, her heart racing, she croaked, “What do you want?”

  “You,” he said with a discernable smile in his voice. “But I’ll settle for conversation.”

  Eyes closing in mortification, she shook her head. “Not at six-thirty, Riley. Go away till eight.” She could be ready by eight. It’d be rushing it since she usually didn’t leave for work till eight-thirty, but under the circumstances—“Not happening, Red. Now open the door.” And then he tacked on, “I have a gift for Butch.”

  “You do?” She chanced another peek out the peephole and saw that Riley held up a stuffed Chihuahua toy. It looked almost like Butch, but bigger and not as cute. She covered her face with her hands. The man had brought her dog a present. She groaned, undecided.

  Beside her, Butch continued to encourage her with barks and jumps and circles. She pressed her forehead to the door. “If I let you in, will you not look at me till I’ve had a chance to get down the hall?”

  Riley laughed. “Why?” And then in a throaty tone, “What are you wearing, Red?”

  Regina looked down at herself. Sloppy, blue—

  flowered cotton pajamas hung on her body. Her loose, tangled hair fell in her face. Even without a mirror, she knew that her eyes were puffy and still heavy from sleep.

  “I’m waiting.”

  This was ridiculous. Half her neighbors would hear him if she didn’t do something quick. She flipped on the entry light, turned the locks and cracked the door open. “Riley?” she said in a harsh whisper.

  “Yeah?”

  “You can come in, but I mean it, don’t you dare even think to look at me. I’m a mess and I don’t like it when people see me a mess.”

  “All right, honey, calm down. I promise.”

  She could hear the laughter in his tone. “The door is unlocked, so just give me thirty seconds to—”

  Behind her, the shattering of glass disturbed the early morning quiet.

  Screeching, Regina whirled around to see the devastated ruins of her patio doors. Shards of glass glittered everywhere. “Oh my God.” She snatched up Butch, who had tucked in his tail and darted behind her before yapping hysterically.

  Riley stormed in, moved her to the side and took in the mess in one sweeping glance.

  “Close and lock this door, then call the cops.” He tossed the stuffed toy dog on the couch, and sprinted across the floor, through the broken patio doors and, to her amazement, right over the balcony.

  “Riley.” They were only about eight feet up from the ground, but still… Regina slammed her door shut and started after him, but she was barefoot and there was glass scattered everywhere, all over her floor, some atop her furniture. Her heart hammered so hard, it hurt.

  Cautiously, she stepped up onto the couch, Butch clutched in her arms. “Ohmigod, ohmigod, damn you, Riley, ohmigod…” She stepped off the other end of the couch nearest to her kitchen. Being careful to avoid any sharp shards of glass, she went to the phone and dialed 9-1-1.

  In less than two minutes that seemed like a lifetime, Riley was back. This time he climbed up and over the balcony railing. Regina didn’t have a chance to worry about her appearance because he barely spared her a glance. “I need a flashlight. It’s still too dark out there to see and I don’t want to mess up any evidence.”

  Skin prickling with sick dread, Regina pointed to the middle of the floor. “It was a rock.”

  Riley nodded. “I know, honey. Where’s a flashlight?”

  Flashlight? She felt shocked, disoriented. She hadn’t had near enough coffee.

  “Regina?”

  One deep breath, and she felt marginally more in control. “In my bedroom, in the nightstand drawer.”

  “Stay put.” His booted feet crunched over the remains of her patio door. An early-morning breeze blew the curtains in. The blackness beyond the doors seemed fathomless, sending a chill down her spine.

  Belatedly, Regina remembered what else was in her nightstand drawer. Oh no. Her heart dropped into her stomach and she started across the floor in a rush, the glass forgotten.

  Riley reappeared. Not by look or deed did he acknowledge anything he might have uncovered beyond the flashlight. He crossed to her and handed her a housecoat and slippers.

  “You okay?”

  Maybe. “Yes.”

  He cupped the side of her face, his touch gentle and reassuring. “The cops should be here any second. Tell them I’m out back. I don’t want to get shot by some overeager hero.”

  Shot! “Riley, wait.” She closed her hand around his arm above his elbow. His muscles were bunched, thick with tension. To someone who didn’t know him better, he might almost appear calm. But Regina noted the unfamiliar, killing rage in his blue eyes. He felt warm and strong and secure and she didn’t want him to walk away from her.

  As if he understood, he bent down to look her in the eyes and said with deadly calm, “It’s okay, Red. I know what I’m doing. I want you and Butch to wait in the kitchen.”

  “No. Don’t go out there.”

  Riley scrutinized her. “You should put on more coffee. The officers will appreciate it.”

 
Coffee? That sort of made sense. At least, with her mind in a muddle, it did. “Oh. Right.”

  For one brief moment, his gaze moved over her, touching off a tidal wave of warmth. He paused at her mouth, her breasts, then shook his head in chagrin. “Be right back.”

  Butch squirmed to be let down, but she didn’t dare, not with so much glass on the floor. A sort of strange numbness had set in. She blocked the kitchen off with his small pen, pulled on her robe and fuzzy slippers, and went about making more coffee by rote.

  This time the knock on her door didn’t startle her.

  Holding Butch like a security blanket, his small warm body somehow comforting, she skirted the glass and made her way to the door again. Two officers in uniform greeted her. Young, fresh-faced and eager at the prospect of a crime, they looked the complete opposite of Riley. Regina wanted to groan.

  Butch wanted to kill them both.

  His rabid beast impersonation was especially realistic this time. Regina tried, but there was no shushing him, so she gave up.

  At her invitation, the officers cautiously ventured inside, keeping their eyes on Butch. The first officer removed his hat, then nodded at the dog. “What is that?”

  Here we go again, Regina thought. “My dog, Butch.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He doesn’t like you.” Regina closed the door behind them. “Would you like coffee?”

  They looked at each other, then her. “Uh, sure.” They had to speak loudly to be heard over Butch’s furor. “Maybe after you tell us what happened here?”

  “Oh.” She looked behind her at the devastation. “A rock. Riley Moore is out back poking around with a flashlight. Don’t shoot him.”

  “Riley?” The darker-haired officer lifted one brow. “Why’s he here?”

  “He was, uh…” Why had Riley dropped in? Oh yeah, a gift for the dog. “Visiting Butch.”

  “That right?” The two cops shared another look, this time of masculine comprehension.

  Regina pulled herself together enough to fry them both with her censure. “Riley is a friend,” she stated, emphasizing the last word. “He had just knocked on the door when the rock came crashing in.”