by Diana Duncan
She smiled, but it was strained around the edges. “Yeah. Twice.”
He sobered. “We need to talk about what happened here.”
“If you don’t know, then you did an amazing job of winging it.”
“Not what I meant and you know it. Something’s going on with you.”
White teeth worried her lower lip. “I’d like to ...um ... shower first.”
“Sure. You like Chinese food?” At her nod, he continued. “I’ll order in, then we can eat and talk. You’ll have to use the first floor bath, the shower up here isn’t connected yet. And if you want to borrow my robe, feel free. It’s hanging on the back of the door down there.”
Measured and careful, he withdrew and rolled to the side. As she gingerly eased off the bed, he sat up. She had to be sore. “Let me help you downstairs.”
All of a sudden she didn’t want to meet his gaze. “No need. I’m good. Fantastic, in fact.” She stood on tiptoe and her lips touched his cheek in a tender kiss. “Thank you, Liam. For every wonderful thing.”
Fighting every instinct to care for and protect her, he let her keep her pride and go downstairs alone.
Liam went into his ensuite bathroom and adiosed the condom, listening as the pipes rattled when the water kicked on downstairs. He returned to pull on a pair of clean jeans, not bothering with briefs. He called Ah Fong Palace and ordered enough food for four people, forgetting Murph wasn’t around to share the loot.
Then he dropped to the edge of the bed and lowered his head into his hands.
Jesus.
Kate had been more than ready for him, but if he’d known, he’d have taken far more time with her. Would’ve extended foreplay, been much more gentle with his initial entry.
He scrubbed his palms over his face. Who the fuck was he blowing a smoke screen for? If he’d known she was a virgin, he’d never have touched her. That expectation of intimate trust would’ve sent him hurtling into a tactical retreat.
Confusion morphed into uneasiness. Except ... maybe not?
He hadn’t been able to resist Kate. The instant he’d spotted her in the bar, he’d been drawn to her. Every defense he’d deployed tonight was useless against the laws of physics.
An irresistible force pulling in an immovable object.
He scrubbed a shaky hand over his jaw. Maybe Pop had been right.
Pop had made a fantastical claim one night when they were working on the Mustang together. He’d said every O’Rourke male inherited the ability to know his soul-mate the instant he saw her.
O’Rourke men fell in love with one glance.
Out of four sons, Pop told only him. Liam hadn’t quite believed the wild story, but never forgot it. As a bomb tech, he knew appearances were deceptive.
What you couldn’t see got you killed.
Was Kate The One?
A gust of wind rattled the house, and he snapped upright. How long had he sat there while the shower ran on and on? He shoved to his feet, sprinted downstairs. “Kate?” He knocked on the bathroom door. “You all right?”
No response.
“Kate!” He pounded. “Answer me!”
Dead silence.
“Kate!” His gut twisted as he shook the locked doorknob. Had she passed out? “Open the door, dammit!”
Fuck this. He kicked it in.
Icy wind blasted through the now open window, blowing aside the curtains. The room was empty. Nothing indicated Kate had ever been there ... except her torn panties in the trash can.
Chapter 2
Las Vegas, Nevada - Present Day, August 30, 12:15 p.m.
Kate jolted back to the present, trembling from the poignant memory of her night with Liam. Oh the irony. Two-and-a-half agonizing years later, she’d finally rebuilt the ruins of her life, finally had her act together.
And was now about to die.
She peered through the undulating heat curtain. TV cameras recorded every nuance while the blond bomb tech stood in the distance engaged in fierce conversation with a taller guy who had his back to her. Snug, faded denims showcased the new man’s athletic build, and like the younger man, he wore combat boots. Longish, wavy black hair brushed the collar of his navy T-shirt. Bold white lettering on the shirt’s broad back proclaimed: I’m a bomb tech. If you see me running, try to keep up.
They weren’t going to send in the comedian? Both men turned and walked through the blinding heat toward her car. Maybe Jokey was her only hope. Hardly reassuring.
As tall, dark, and so-not-funny took the lead, the cameras followed his progress. There was something wrenchingly familiar about his loose-limbed saunter. Something heart-tugging about the confident set of his shoulders and cocky head tilt. Kate’s breathing sped up. When he broke through the shimmering curtain and his face swam into view, she gasped. Reeled.
Oh, God! The last man she ever expected to see. The last man she wanted to see!
Liam O’Rourke!
His hair was longer, his hard-muscled body leaner, his sculpted features more rugged. Two years had matured his amazing good looks into devastatingly handsome. She knew the instant he recognized her. He faltered, stumbled ... and his beautiful face turned to stone.
He recovered, schooled his features and strode full speed ahead.
When he reached the car, his sexy mouth twisted sardonically. “I’ll be damned. A blast from the past.”
The younger tech hurriedly caught up with him. “I have the best hands in Vegas, but Officer Liam O’Rourke has the best hands on the planet.”
She stared up into Liam’s thick-lashed emerald eyes that still glowed with the secrets of the universe. “Yes, I know.”
“Just Kate.” The smoky intimacy in Liam’s deep voice told her he remembered the last time they’d been together, they’d both been naked. “Long time no see.”
Despite the relentless heat, a shiver shook her. “I didn’t know you were a bomb tech.”
He turned to the blond. “I’ll take it from here, Carson. Bug outta the blast radius.” Carson jogged across the pavement and Liam swiveled back to her. “You didn’t stick around long enough to find out.”
Her gaze skittered away from the censure on his gorgeous face to the dying calla lily on the passenger seat beside her camera. Over two years later, was he still angry about her desertion? Could he be the man who was stalking her—had he only pretended to be surprised to see her? Nobody would know more about planting a bomb than a bomb tech. But then why come to her rescue? Confusion and fear spun in a sickening whirl. Maybe to set her up to trust him?
“I need to get between your legs.” His demand cut into her turbulent thoughts.
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Hello.” He gestured with a pair of wire cutters. “Explosive device under the seat.”
Damn, she was in sorry shape if the sight of him made her forget she was sitting on a bomb. “Oh, right.”
He flashed a wicked grin as he eased his upper torso into the car and positioned himself between her bare legs. “Déjà vu, Just Kate?”
So not going there. “You’re a long way from Oregon.”
“Riverside SWAT is engaged in tactical cross-training with Homeland Security, Vegas SWAT, and the FBI. Open up wider, honey.” His bristled cheek grazed her calf as she complied, and her toes curled.
Fate had again thrown her into his path during a crisis. “Once more, we’re both in the same place at a critical time.”
“Guess this is your lucky day.”
“Yes, I’m so fortunate some nut job wants to turn me into a human jigsaw puzzle.”
His warm breath feathered over the top of her sandaled foot, making her stomach jitterbug. “If I weren’t in Vegas, he’d have succeeded.”
“I sincerely hope that arrogance isn’t misplaced.”
“Relax.” He chuckled. “You’re in the best hands on the planet.”
Been there, done that, abandoned the torn panties. She didn’t doubt his talent ... in bed. But did she trust him with h
er life?
Like she had a choice.
Her temples throbbed. Mere hours after running out on him, she’d boarded a one-way flight to Europe. As the 747 lifted into the sky, she’d asked the universe for forgiveness and a fresh start.
She should’ve been more specific. Because the universe had rebooted her life by destroying everything she was. Everything she had.
But over the past two years, she’d reinvented herself. Rebuilt her shattered existence one excruciating step at a time. She was a woman reborn. Nobody’s pawn. She was in charge of her destiny.
Until the stalker upped the ante.
Liam’s strong fingers gripped her ankle. “Need more room to maneuver. Prop your right leg over my shoulder.”
Flushing, she did as he directed. If she lived, tonight’s entry dictated to her electronic journal would be a zinger. Dear Diary, my first lover, whom I never wanted to see again, got a real eyeful while saving me from getting blown to smithereens by a whacko stalker.
He whistled. “Nice piece of work! Never run into one built quite like this. And it’s packed in dry ice?”
“That’s what Carson said.” He’d also informed her that because of the close quarters, the bomb tech couldn’t wear protective gear. Liam was as vulnerable as she was. She cringed. “Can you deactivate it?”
“No worries.” His voice was muffled as his big, warm hand eased her thighs even farther apart. “Although where you’re concerned, I seem to cause multiple explosions.”
Her flush burned hotter. As if she needed a reminder. Her body still craved his like a dangerous narcotic. She’d locked away her longing over twenty-nine months of agonizing withdrawal. But her subconscious insisted on tormenting her with dreams of being in Liam’s bed. Dreams that left her trembling with need and aching with desire that no amount of cold showers could quench.
“I’m gonna shift you into a better position.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“All my ideas are good.” Several seconds passed. “Except one,” he muttered. “Once upon a time.” His wide palm covered her thigh, and she jumped. “Easy. Hold real still.” He pressed the lever, and her seat hummed slowly backward.
He returned his focus to beneath her. Long, tense heartbeats of thick silence ticked past. Perspiration beaded on her upper lip and she fought not to fidget.
“Huh.” Liam’s dubious exclamation made her go rigid. That didn’t sound promising. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Why?”
“Trying to determine which wire to cut.”
Belatedly, she remembered the man had claimed his middle name was Gamble. “You’re gambling with our lives?”
“More like an educated guess.” He laughed. “Live life on your own terms, Just Kate.”
“I d-don’t ...” Her voice shook, and she cleared her throat. “I don’t have a favorite color.” Not anymore. She only saw the world through her camera lens ... in shadowed shades of gray.
“Black it is.” His unruffled reply was jaunty as ever. Metal bit into metal, unnaturally loud in the heavy silence.
“Fuck me!” Liam gritted, and she flinched. He segued into fast motion. “Fuck! Fuck!” Rapid-fire wire snaps echoed from under her seat.
Suffocating air jammed her lungs. She cringed, braced for the fireball that’d end their existence.
Dead silence.
Liam’s broad back rose and fell in a loud sigh. He emerged from beneath her, reached up and shut off the ignition. He leaned between her thighs, his dark hair tousled and irises sparkling as if he’d jumped off a thrill ride instead of cheating death by seconds. “That was interesting.”
The horizon spun in crazy loop-de-loops. “It’s over?”
* * *
His thoughts more convoluted than the intricate device he’d just disarmed, Liam shot Kate a wry smile. “Yeah. No daily double today.”
“Stop it,” she whispered. Her shoulders sagged and she swayed.
“Whoa! Head down, sweetheart.” Liam pushed her head between her knees, level with his face.
Her soft cheek brushed his and tendrils of sun-warmed hair that’d escaped her bun trailed over his face and arms like silken licks of flame. His belly clenched. When he’d recognized her, the world had screeched to a halt. His brain short-circuited. He’d forgotten how to walk.
He’d had to quash stunned shock and snap his focus back to save her life.
Now that the danger had passed, Kate consumed all his attention.
Her glorious hair was restrained in a severe bun. She’d lost way too much weight. But the biggest difference was in her face. Shadows of raw pain stamped her features and haunted her big brown eyes.
What the hell had happened to her?
He breathed in her essence. She smelled the same, summer flowers and sunshine.
His heart stumbled, mimicking his body’s reaction when he’d recognized her. Two-plus years of soul-searching. Twenty-nine months of questions. One hundred and sixteen weeks of living hell receded as he once again held Kate in his arms.
His brothers knew he’d taken her home from the pub and assumed she’d been a one-and-done, per his usual MO. He’d never confided the details. Hellfire, he didn’t understand why he was so confused and hurt—so obsessed over a woman he’d known for one night. So he’d suffered in silence and camouflaged the pain behind his usual good-time-guy smoke screen.
But everything had changed for him that night. His beliefs, his heart, his entire life had been flipped upside down and yanked inside out.
He’d spent four months actively searching for her and the following two months serial dating—trying to forget her. Although he hadn’t taken any of those women to bed. He’d eventually stopped dating, but had never forgotten Kate. Even as recently as an hour ago, he’d studied women’s faces he passed on the sidewalk, hoping, needing to find her.
No other woman tripped his pulse. No other woman weakened his knees. No other woman hurtled adrenaline through his system with the same thrilling rush he got when he disarmed a bomb.
No other woman terrified the shit out of him.
Just Kate.
“I still remember the way you taste,” he whispered into her silky hair.
She flinched away like he’d burned her and jerked upright. “Are you stalking me?”
Yanked out of the past, he blinked. “What?”
“Notes, flowers ... and now a bomb. Is this your way of exacting revenge because I ran out on you—”
“Hold the phone, babe. How could I send notes and flowers when I didn’t even know who the hell you were?”
“You’re a cop, you could have easily found out.”
“I searched for you for four months. But I had no last name, address, make or model of vehicle. Nobody at the bar remembered seeing you before. I didn’t know where you worked. And all the art galleries I tried to finagle intel from refused to release any employee information. I had squat.”
She frowned in bewilderment, sable brows dark against her pale face. “Only my first name,” she whispered.
“Just Kate.” He scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. “Do you know how many variations of Kates live in the vicinity of Riverside, Oregon? One thousand, four hundred and eighty-two.” He clenched his jaw. “None of them were you.”
“You called over a thousand women?”
“I could hardly carry around a pair of torn panties and see who they fit.”
Her lips went white. “Why did you try so hard to find me?”
He’d convinced himself it was because he wanted to ensure she was okay. He wasn’t a player, he’d never had sex without a clear understanding of terms. He’d sure as hell never scared a woman into running away from him.
Just Kate.
When he messed up, it was his duty to fix it. “Of all the men in the bar that night, why did you go home with me? Why choose me for your first lover?”
Trembling, she stared down at the tips of her French manicured toenails. “It’s co
mplicated.”
He drilled her with a hard stare. “Yeah. And you had an agenda.”
“You’re still mad, after all this time.” Alarmed bewilderment chased across her face, but she didn’t deny she’d only used him. “That could give you incentive to stalk me.”
“Not mad. More like ...” Heartbroken? Jesus. He sucked in much needed oxygen. “Frustrated. But I’d never stalk you.” Despite his exasperation, she still aroused every protective instinct he possessed. “But I will find out who is. And neutralize him.”
Her wary expression said she didn’t quite believe him.
Only Kate had the power to hurt him with a look.
He’d been extra careful and gentle with her after his belated discovery she was a virgin. He’d made sure she really wanted to continue, then had given her undeniable pleasure. Yet she thought he was some kind of freaking psycho? He’d damn well prove her wrong.
Her opinion of him mattered more than he wanted to admit.
He hollered, “Murphy!” The big German Shepherd bounded over and Liam motioned. “Murphy, search!”
“Murphy’s a dog?” Kate went rigid as Murphy circled the car. “You said Murphy was your partner. A cop, just like you.”
“K-9 Murphy is a cop. He graduated from a training academy, just like me. It’s a felony to assault him, just like me. He apprehends bad guys and faces bombs. Just like me.”
Murphy reached the open door and stuck his nose inside, sniffing loudly. He should’ve sat in passive alert when he scented the accelerant, but continued to sniff. Liam frowned.
Kate gasped. “What’s he doing?”
“I want him to locate the bomb. It reinforces his training. There are nine basic scents of mix-and-match explosive components. Exceptional dogs can recognize twelve combos. Murphy knows eighteen.” So why didn’t he recognize the scent inside Kate’s car? Though he’d know it from now on. Liam’s frown deepened. First the freaky device schematics, now this.
Kate scrambled up onto the seat. “Get him away from me!”
Clearly, the lady was amped on adrenaline. “He won’t touch you. He’s trained not to touch anything during a search, so he won’t detonate an explosion. He needs to learn the scent.”
