Hot Target

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “I want you, Katie,” he said. “I always want you.” As insane as that might be, he thought.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she demanded.

  “Why does me wanting you mean something is wrong?” He untied her top, removed it and tossed it into the water, as well. He held her close, pressed his lips to her ear. “I’m trying to give you what you want, Katie. Pleasure without questions. Pleasure without commitment.”

  He tweaked her nipples and she protested. “I’ve never said such a thing. Never.”

  “It’s what you didn’t say.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she vowed breathlessly, but the denial didn’t keep her from arching against him.

  “I told you this is what you wanted,” he said, his teeth scraping her shoulder, hand flattening on her stomach, and then lower, as he played with her clit.

  She stiffened. “What I want is for you to stop acting like the jerk you were the day I met you,” she hoarsely demanded.

  He froze, his gut twisted with the impact of her words. She was right. He was being a jerk and hadn’t meant to.

  This hadn’t been his plan when he’d come home, when he came outside. But for the first time since Ron had forced their introduction, Luke was pushing her away. He was trying to upset her because it was easier than dealing with what she might make him feel. What she’d already made him feel—betrayed and hurt. In other words, he was doing exactly what she’d been doing.

  He backed off her immediately. “You want to know what’s wrong?”

  “Yes!” she exclaimed. “Yes. I want to know what is wrong.”

  He heaved a breath. Looked away. Once he asked this question, he had to live with her answer. An answer that might change everything between them. Or then again, maybe it would make things crystal clear. He wanted crystal clear. He fixed her in his stare, made his demand. “Why didn’t you come to me about your sister’s situation? Why didn’t you let me help?”

  Shock flooded her face. “I… Luke.” Her lips pursed. “Ron told you.”

  “Ron knew?” he demanded, his gut clenching. “Everyone knew but me, Katie?” He was beyond himself. “I thought we had something good going on here, but I’m completely shut out.”

  Emotion flashed across her face, darkening her eyes. “I didn’t want you to think I was like the other people around you,” she said finally. “That I wanted something from you.”

  Anger churned through him. “Bullshit, Katie,” he said. “At least have the courage to be honest about what you feel.”

  She shoved on his unmoving chest. “Let me by.”

  Not a chance in hell. “Not until you talk to me.”

  “Talk?” she blurted fiercely. “You want to talk? How about this, Luke. I didn’t want your help! Why can’t you accept that? I talked to Ron. He gave me an advance. The situation is handled. Done. There is nothing more to tell.”

  Luke could barely believe his ears. “You asked Ron for help, but not me?”

  “Yes!” she said. “Yes, I asked Ron and not you.” She shoved one more time on his chest. “Let me go, Luke.” When he didn’t budge, her features turned stormy. “Damn you, Luke. I can’t do this thing with you. I can’t do the caring, sharing, falling-in-love stuff. I can’t. I won’t. That wasn’t the deal. That isn’t what we were doing.”

  He ignored the rejection, focused on the inadvertent admission. “You’re falling in love with me?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Why are you doing this?”

  He moved his hands to the side of her face. “Because I’m falling in love with you, Katie.”

  She sucked in a breath and blinked up at him, water clinging to her dark lashes, her brown eyes troubled. “I don’t want to feel these things.”

  His chest tightened at what he saw in her face, what he sensed behind her words—she’d lost her parents. “I’m afraid of losing you, too,” he said.

  She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

  “I do,” he said softly. “I remember what you told me about your parents, Katie. I know you’re worried about your sister. I know that asshole Joey screwed you over. I know you’re scared. But we can get through it together. I can’t promise something won’t happen to me. No one can make that kind of promise. I can’t even promise I’ll never be a jerk again, like when I jumped in the pool. But I can promise I will try and make every day we spend together memorable.” He pressed their palms together. “We’re good together, Katie. Damn good. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose us.”

  “Luke,” she whispered, staring down at their palms for long seconds before her fingers entwined with his and closed down. Slowly, her gaze lifted. “I don’t want to lose us, either. Kiss me, Luke.”

  His lips brushed hers, tongue moving past her lips in a gentle probe, a sweet caress, before he said, “I’m going to kiss you again. And again. I’m going to kiss every last inch of you. And then I’m going to start over and do it again.”

  She smiled against his mouth. “What are you waiting for?”

  HOURS LATER, in Luke’s bedroom, Katie and Luke lay together, naked, talking. She ran her hand over his chest, through the springy hair she loved so much. “I should be furious that you gave Josh that money.”

  He leaned up, looked at her. “Come again?”

  She rotated around to face him, onto her stomach, teasing him. “I’m not some kept woman, you know.”

  “Oh, believe me,” he said, “I know.”

  She smiled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you are the most independent, stubborn woman I have ever known.”

  “Back at ya, mister,” she said.

  “Hey, hey,” he said. “Are you calling me a woman?”

  She laughed. He made her laugh so easily. After everything she’d felt today—all the emotions, the fear—Luke still made her smile. She climbed on top of him, straddling him, his heated stare warming her body. Katie leaned down and kissed him. “You are more man than any man I’ve ever dated.”

  His hand slid to her face. “Then let me have all the woman, Katie. Don’t shut me out again.” And in true Luke form, he didn’t demand she respond. Instead, he kissed her, a soft, gentle kiss that reminded her, yet again, why she was falling in love with him. Why she probably already was in love with him. And why she had to take a chance that she might lose him in order to ever fully have him.

  A WEEK LATER, the final at-home game before a month on the road had ended in a loss. Luke walked toward the locker room, his elbow wrapped with an Ace bandage, a bouncing ball having found him perfectly. To his right was Rick, to his left Conn, who stalked several steps ahead of them, pissed off as hell at Malone. “Son of a bitch,” Conn mumbled. “Ignored every other hand signal.” His voice raised. “Do you know what a hand signal is?”

  Malone turned around and shot the finger at Conn. “Here’s a hand signal for you.”

  “You shit,” Conn muttered, his New York accent getting stronger, which was never a good sign. “You just wait until you get into that locker room. I’ll show ya hand signals.”

  “Oh, man,” Rick mumbled under his breath. “I’ll warn Coach.”

  “He’s not worth a brawl that might end badly,” Luke warned, double-stepping to Conn’s side.

  “For him,” Conn said. “It’s going to end bad for him. He needs a lesson in humility, and I’m the man to give it to him.”

  By the time they hit the locker-room door, Coach was in between Conn and Malone, and he waved off the press, sealing the locker room. Luke knew when to get lost, and this was one of those times. He went to his locker, undressed, heading to the shower for a fast escape, Coach mediating the shouting match behind him.

  Fifteen minutes later, he and Rick were both dressed, about to shut their lockers and head out, when the fight broke out. Conn and Malone were on top of each other. Luke cursed and moved to the side where Malone crashed against the lockers a few inches from where Luke had stood. The n

ext thing Luke knew, his bag was on the ground, and Malone was on top of it.

  The team gathered in observation, with shouts of encouragement and otherwise, all vocalized loudly. Rick cursed and grabbed Conn by the shirt. Luke used his good arm and yanked Malone off his duffel. And that was when it happened. The syringes fell out of his bag.

  Malone grabbed one and stood up. Coach rounded the corner. Malone held up the syringe and shook it in the air. “Is this how you manage that fast pitch?” he challenged Luke. “With drugs?”

  The room went silent. Luke’s eyes latched on to Malone’s, and Luke knew in his gut that Malone had done this. Luke’s heartbeat pounded in his ears, his gaze lifting to where Coach stood. Malone was a sick bastard. The kid had problems, and Luke had been too busy dealing with his stalker to see that. Now he was paying the price and so might his career.

  “Drug test me now, Coach,” Luke said, his spine stiff. “Because I can promise you, I won’t fail. Those are not my syringes or my drugs. I’ve been set up.”

  IN A PINK SATIN ROBE, with a can of whipped cream in hand, Katie went in search of Luke. She found him sitting exactly where expected—on the leather sofa in the den watching SportsCenter, just as one of the commentators speculated about his use of steroids and how he might have beaten the drug test.

  For days now, he’d tortured himself watching his own press, grumbling that Carl Malone had set him up, which was true, she had no doubt. And they were watching him, waiting for him to screw up.

  Katie loved Luke too much to allow him to wallow in self-pity, she knew that now. There was no denying it. She loved the way he talked, the way he walked, the way he drank from her cup without asking. She loved him. That meant she needed to take care of him, as he had taken care of her the other night after her panic attack over her sister, who was, thankfully, out of trouble. No more loan sharks. No more danger. So Katie was armed and ready to take action. She’d stop at nothing to get Luke’s mind off his troubles. She was a woman on a mission.

  Tilting her chin up, she marched into the den, rounded the couch and went straight to the television, not bothering to reach for the remote. It was in his hand where it stayed. Instead, she hit the manual button and turned it off.

  “Hey!” he started to complain. “I was—”

  Katie dropped the robe. She was naked underneath. “No more SportsCenter,” she said. She held up the whipped cream. “I bought this almost two weeks ago, and we never used it. Remember?”

  He tossed the remote to the floor. “No more SportsCenter.”

  She smiled and ripped the top off the whipped cream and sprayed it on her nipples. “Would you like to help me decorate?” she asked, crossing the small space between them and straddling him. “Or just lick off my handiwork?”

  “Both,” he said, his hands closing around her waist as his tongue twirled the whipped cream around her nipple. “More, please.”

  She pointed to the opposite nipple. “This one first.”

  A smile touched his lips a moment before it touched the whipped cream on her other breast. She sprayed more, on her nipples, between them. Lower. She planned on going much lower.

  “Stand up, baby,” he urged. “Let me decorate my favorite little V.”

  “Katie! Luke!” It was Noah.

  “Oh, my God!” Katie said, and tried to scramble away.

  Luke licked her nipple clean. “I’ll hurry.”

  “Katie! Luke!” Noah’s voice got closer.

  “Let go, Luke!” Luke chuckled and freed her. Katie scrambled for her robe, pulled it on. “Why is it I am always scrambling to get my clothes on around you?” she asked, tying her robe not a second too soon.

  Noah appeared in the doorway and charged toward them. “Josh was right,” he said, crossing the room. “He—” His eyebrows dipped as he looked at Katie. “What’s all over you?” His eyes went wide. “Is that whipped cream?” He started to laugh, his gaze spotting the can on the couch. “It’s whipped cream.”

  Katie crossed her arms in front of her body. “Just tell us what you came to tell us.”

  “Malone was at a junior college before UT,” he said. “His major was…get this…forensic science. And backtracking, we now know the letters started right after he was picked up on the roster, right before he arrived, which deflected attention from him.”

  Katie’s eyes went wide. “So he knew how to write those letters and not get caught.”

  “That’s right,” Noah said. “And he had some emotional issues in high school. His dad was an alcoholic, hit his mom. Malone was competitive, started fights. Apparently, baseball got him straight. He was the leader of the team, the star player and that seemed to settle him down. Or so everyone thought. He fixated on Luke for reasons I am not sure we will ever understand.” He sat on the arm of the couch. “Oh, and I know how he got into the house and cleared the security feed.”

  “How?” Luke and Katie asked at the same moment.

  “Jessica,” he said. “Josh saw her at one of the games acting funny. Apparently, she went to all the games. Somehow Malone met her and used her to get to you. He’s been dating her. Using her. Whatever you want to call it. She’s at his house now.”

  “That low-life bastard,” Luke said. “That sorry, low-life bastard.” He was visibly seething. “That’s it. I’ve had enough.” He charged forward, heading toward the door.

  “Where are you going, Luke?” Katie demanded, running after him, trying to grab his arm despite a gaping robe and whipped cream all over her.

  “Luke,” Noah called, in pursuit, as well. They followed him to the kitchen and then to the hallway. “Hold up, man. I’m putting together evidence. The police will handle this when the time is right.”

  “The time is right,” Luke said. “Call them. Tell them to meet me there.”

  “Luke!” Katie cried, this time getting a grip on his arm. “At least let me get dressed. Let me come with you.”

  He pried her fingers from his arm. “This is between me and Malone, Katie. I’m doing this myself.”

  “This is between Malone and the police,” Noah corrected.

  “Right,” Luke said, reaching the front door. “Me, Malone and the police. Call them.” He yanked open the door and exited.

  Katie cast Noah a desperate look. “Please! Go after him. I’ll meet you there.” She started for the stairs as Noah headed toward the door, her stomach twisting in knots, instincts in play. She stopped. “Noah!” He turned back to her. “Do what Luke said. Call the police.” She didn’t wait for a response. She darted up the stairs. She had another one of those gut feelings her father had said to never ignore. This wasn’t going to end well.

  13

  LUKE WAS already driving before he realized he didn’t have Malone’s address, but a call to a team assistant proved effective. He pulled in to the driveway of the stucco, beachside house and barely had the truck in Park before he was out the door.

  He’d thought about beating Malone’s ass as soon as he’d gotten into the truck, but he’d calmed down enough since then to realize that wasn’t going to do anything but hurt his career. And Malone had already done enough of that. But he owed it to Maria to get Jessica out of Malone’s place before the police and the press arrived. As disappointed as he was in Jessica’s role in all this, she was a kid, manipulated by a creep.

  He took the short set of stairs in a flying leap and rang the doorbell over and over. Then he started pounding on the door until it flew open. Malone stood there in no shirt, bare feet and jeans. “What are you doing here, Winter?”

  “I know everything. The letters. The planted drugs. Everything, you son of a bitch. And you know what? It’s between you and me—I want Jessica out of here.” Her car wasn’t in the driveway, but Noah had said she was here, and Luke believed him.

  Malone made a wacko motion at the side of his head and whistled. “You are truly going off the deep end. Losing it big-time, Luke.”

  “Jessica!” Luke yelled, and then refocused on Malone. “I want her out of this. It’s between you and me, let’s leave it that way.”

  “Luke?”

  “Jessica,” he called. “It’s time to go home. Get your things.”

  Malone tried to shut the door. Luke caught it with his hand and foot. “She’s leaving,” he said. “You’re a pathetic man. Using a kid like this.” He raised his voice. “Come on, Jessica! You’re going home.”

  “She’s not going anywhere with you,” Malone said. “Get lost, Luke. Inject your steroids or whatever you need to do to get through the day.”

  “Let me by, Carl!” Jessica said. “Let me by. Luke…I’m sorry, Luke. I…I… Let me pass, Carl!”

  Luke and Malone glared at each other. “Let her go, Malone.” Malone looked as if he was going to refuse, but suddenly jerked back and opened the door.

  Jessica raced toward Luke. “Go to the truck,” he ordered brusquely, right as Noah pulled his rented sedan to a skidding halt in the driveway, shoved open the door and got out.

  “Everything okay, Luke?” Noah shouted.

  Luke eyed the doorway. Malone had disappeared inside. He turned to address Noah. “I’m taking Jessica home before the police get here,” he called a moment before a blast hit his back as Malone rammed him from behind in a powerful burst of force that sent him tumbling down the concrete stairs in a roll. He bounced down on his right side, his pitching arm underneath him. Pain exploded along his shoulder, through his arm, and he heard the bone snap a moment before his head hit the pavement and he blacked out.

  KATIE ARRIVED at Malone’s place to find two police cars and an ambulance at the front of the house. Nausea rushed over her, fear tightening her chest. Luke. She knew that ambulance was for Luke. Her mind was spinning, fingers going numb. Dizzy with her reaction, she still managed to thrust the car door open—not even bothering to shut it behind her—and started to run toward the ambulance.

  Noah greeted her halfway there.

  “It’s Luke, isn’t it?” she demanded, grabbing his arm for support. She could not lose Luke, too. She couldn’t.

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