Quinn nodded. “Which is why I gave you the chance to opt out. Because that’s not the way you would do things. Not by the book.”
“Right now,” Brady said grimly, “I’m ready to throw that book into a snowdrift, because I know damned well what would have happened if you people hadn’t come along when you did.”
“I think,” Hayley said, giving him a warm smile, “she would have had help the moment you knew something was off about her situation.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” Brady said, “but there’s no way I could have marshaled the forces you guys have.”
Quinn only smiled. Then said, “Speaking of forces, it might be helpful to know what the official status of the search is. Anybody you could get that from without giving yourself away?”
Brady thought for a moment. “Yeah. Hang on.”
He pulled out his phone and called up the number for Rich Larios, one of their half dozen detectives and a good friend. Rich answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Crenshaw, how’s the life of leisure?”
I wish I knew. “Great. I should try it more often.”
“As I keep telling you. So what’s up?”
“Just wanted the name of that ski run in Snowridge you were talking about.”
“The Ridge Route Run. If you can’t say it, you’re too drunk to ski it.”
Brady managed a laugh. “Thanks, man. What’s up there?”
“Quiet. Except for pretending there’s a chance we’ll find the mayor’s daughter alive.”
“No trace yet?”
“Got a vid of her walking past Benny’s at 7:55 p.m. on Sunday, but then poof. So after a week, you know the chances when you’re dealing with someone with her mental history. But the mayor being the boss’s good buddy, you know the drill.”
“Yeah. Sucks. Don’t put too much energy into it.”
“Copy that,” Rich said, clearly heartfelt. “Enjoy the skiing.”
He ended the call and looked once more at Quinn. “They’re expecting to find a body, if anything,” he said grimly, trying not to think of how close that had come to being reality.
“And would have,” Hayley said, “if not for you.” She looked at her husband. “Can we give her time to process and make up her mind? Until Sunday, maybe?”
Quinn was silent for a long moment, clearly considering. “I don’t like making your colleagues spin their wheels,” he said to Brady.
“This is a pretty quiet gig,” Brady said. “They might be pissed, but it won’t hurt them any. The budget, on the other hand…”
“Foxworth will see to that.” He looked back at his wife. “All right. We’ll hold off, make decisions on Sunday and start—” he glanced at Brady “—marshaling those forces you mentioned on Monday morning.”
“Go tell her,” Hayley said. “Tell her not to think or worry about it for tonight. It will take some pressure off her, something she surely needs right now.”
Brady wasn’t sure how you stopped thinking about something like this, but maybe she could at least stop worrying about it for a while.
* * *
Brady’s words, as they so often did, rang in Ashley’s head as she lay in bed staring into the darkness.
Try not to think about your mom. Just think about being well.
Could you?
He’d paused then, and answered honestly. As she’d known he would.
No.
Somehow that honesty made it possible for her to at least try what he’d suggested. Although it had put her in another complicated position, because the only thing strong enough to jolt her mind out of that rabbit warren of thoughts was…him.
The memory of how he’d held her, so gently, helped, but it was the memory of his kisses, and of the feel of that long, strong body pressed against her, that was the only thing powerful enough to shove everything else out of her mind, at least for a while. And his restraint, his refusal to pursue what had flared to life between them when he felt it was unfair to her, perversely only added fuel to the fire. The fire in her, anyway. He seemed too busy tamping it down or trying to ignore it. For very noble reasons, yes, but—
Reasons that didn’t exist anymore. He’d held back because of something that she now knew wasn’t true. She wasn’t delicate, fragile, on the edge of crumbling.
Suddenly something new, strange and wonderful was coursing through her. As if someone had put her fate back into her own hands. As, in fact, they had. The Foxworths, true, but it was Brady who had saved her for them to do it. Brady who had seen something wrong, or something in her, enough to inspire him to go against everything he believed. For her.
Her restlessness had transformed from an exhausted merry-go-round of fruitless, careening thoughts to a sort of energy she hadn’t felt in…maybe ever. And abruptly she simply could not stay here, curled up in the dark, another second. She rolled out of the bed and pulled on the socks she had been using as slippers against the chill and the sweatshirt on the foot of the bed since she had no robe.
She would go back out to the great room and sit by what was left of the fire again. She wanted to be there, where he’d come to her. Not because she hoped he would do so again—no, Brady had made up his mind, and he would not risk that again—but so she could savor the memory, there, where he’d kissed her so fiercely and things had nearly spiraled out of control. She wished they had. Because just the thought of Brady Crenshaw out of control, over her, gave her a thrill she’d never experienced before.
The reality would be…overwhelming. In the best possible way. She—
She stopped dead in the hallway when she saw a shadow move. Smiled when she realized it was Cutter, standing outside the media room door.
Brady’s door.
“Hello, furry one,” she whispered as she bent to pet him. “Making your rounds?”
Hayley had told her the dog often did that when he was on a case. It had sounded so funny to her she’d almost laughed, but she was beginning to realize it had not at all been a joke.
Cutter swiped his tongue lightly over her fingers. “Want to come out and sit with me?” she asked him, still whispering and very aware that they were right outside where Brady was sleeping. Another memory arrowed through her, searing her as if it were aflame. Brady, bare-chested, jeans low on his narrow hips, stepping into that shaft of moonlight. When she caught herself wondering if he slept naked, she knew she had to move or she was liable to do something stupid.
But when she tried to move, the dog got in her way. She smiled at him and stepped around him. Or tried to, but he was there again. A third time, and this time she was watching him, saw that he moved the instant after she did, and she couldn’t see how it was anything but purposeful.
“You don’t want me to go out there?” she asked, feeling silly. She had the thought that perhaps Hayley and Quinn were out there, and the dog was protecting their privacy. They certainly hadn’t had much chance to enjoy their anniversary trip alone, although they had had some time before all this had descended on them.
Cutter moved again, this time gently nudging at her. Not, as she had half expected, back down the hall toward her room but…toward Brady’s door.
“Oh, don’t tempt me, dog,” she muttered. “There’s nothing I’d like better.”
“Than what?”
Brady’s sleep-roughened voice came from barely two feet away, where he’d just opened that tempting door. He wasn’t naked, as she’d imagined, but the snug-fitting knit boxers were damned close. For a moment that seemed to spin out forever, she stared at him, and the broad, strong expanse of his chest, the ridges of his abdomen, the trail of dark hair that arrowed downward like an invitation.
And feeling reckless for the first time in her generally staid life until now, she answered him honestly.
“Than you.”
CHAPTER 31
The
hunger in her eyes, visible even in the shadows of the hallway, nearly did him in. But then she whispered, “Wanting you is the first thing I’ve been utterly, absolutely sure of in a long time,” and he was lost.
But still, feeling he had to, he only stood aside, leaving the decision to step through to her. She made it without hesitation. He caught a glimpse of Cutter, who oddly had plopped down in front of the doorway as if it were his place. Or like a guardian.
But then she was in his arms, and all other thought fled. It was all he could do to close the door quietly instead of slamming it in his haste.
The reasoning side of his brain gave one last warning, to remember what she’d been through and take care. But it was the last cogent thought he had before his body took charge. He would take care and give more than he took because that’s the way it should be, but take he would. He felt as if he’d been holding back since the first moment he’d looked into those green eyes of hers, and now he was done with it.
She came at him so hungrily it became elemental in an instant. The slow savoring he’d on occasion imagined would have to wait; this was an urgency beyond anything he’d ever felt. It was impossible not to respond in kind when the woman you’d been panting for made it so damn clear she was as hot for this as you were.
As hot for you as you were for her.
She was kissing him, not hesitantly but ardently, sliding her tongue over his lips and then farther, licking, tasting, until a vision of her doing that to other parts of him nearly put him on his knees. He tasted her in turn and felt his entire body tighten even more.
Her hands slid over him, her fingers stroking over his chest and down his belly, and for the first time in his life he realized how utterly arousing it could be to be the one who was practically naked, while she was still clad in a sweatshirt and heavy winter socks.
And then she was doing exactly what he’d imagined, following the paths her hands had traced with her mouth, her tongue leaving trails of fire over his skin. He had to slow her down or this was going to be, humiliatingly, over before it really started. He knew the perfect way. He reached for the hem of that sweatshirt and tugged. He hated the simple logistics that said to get it off her he’d have to break that kiss, but the temptation of baring luscious female curves topped all else. And then she was helping him, pulling off not just the sweatshirt but the T-shirt beneath it.
He groaned aloud as her breasts were bared now to his gaze, and for his hands. With a split second of thanks that she’d already shed her bra and he didn’t have to deal with it, he reached to cup them. She sucked in an audible breath the moment he did, and when he ran his thumbs over her nipples, she moaned. Then she slid her hands down his back and beneath his waistband. Almost without his volition, he lowered his head to take her mouth again in the instant her hands cupped his ass in a possessive way that snapped the last thread of his restraint.
He ripped off the pajama bottoms she had on and an instant later had his boxers on the floor beside them. And then she was backed up to the door, pressed against him from lips to knees, and he knew he couldn’t wait another second. When he reached to lift her legs she practically climbed him in her effort to help. He barely managed to stroke her with a finger, and when he did, it was so obvious she was slick and ready for him, he swore under his breath.
“Ash,” he whispered.
“Hurry,” she whispered back.
“Those shots you were getting,” he began.
“From a real, honest doctor. It’s all safe. Please. I’ve been waiting for you all my life.”
He broke. Drove forward, surging into her to the hilt. This time the oath wasn’t under his breath—he nearly shouted it in the same moment she cried out his name with a resonance that echoed in his ears. She was hot, tight and fit him perfectly. And he realized he’d underestimated the power of being wanted so fiercely in return.
He began to move because he had to, stroking her from within as he held her against the door. She wrapped her legs around him, shifting to take him deeper, adding the motion of her hips to his thrusts until it took everything he had to hold back the boiling tide.
And then she cried out his name again, then again in a tone of wonder, and her body convulsed around his, gripping, squeezing until that tide breached his control. Even his vision dimmed, and he was barely aware of holding on as waves of incredible sensation billowed through him, and with an echoing groan of her name in turn, he poured himself into her.
Nearly drained of strength, it was all he could do to keep her safe as they slid downward. His heart was still hammering, and he heard another low moan from her as, limbs entangled, they collapsed on the floor.
And he’d never wanted anything in his life more than to simply live in this moment endlessly.
* * *
“Morning-after regrets?”
Ashley gave him a sideways look as he lay on his side next to her, his head propped on one hand, studying her rather intently. It was morning, barely—she could tell by the light. Although the sun rose late here this time of year, so timewise it was probably later than it felt like. The foldout bed in the media room was more comfortable than she would have expected. More importantly, it had served their purposes sufficiently after he’d gently picked her up and brought her to it, making love to her all over again, the second time slower and more gentle. The third time had been a sleepy, cuddling affair that turned heated quickly, so quickly it had taken her breath away.
“I should be asking you that.”
“After the most amazing night of my life?”
She let out a relieved breath. “It was all that and more.”
“If it got any better, every circuit would be burned out instead of temporarily fried,” he said with the crooked grin she had seen far too little of.
“But you were the one who…wouldn’t. Before.”
“It wasn’t right.”
And there was Brady Crenshaw in a nutshell. “Thank you.”
“For what? Waiting?” The grin again. “If I’d known what I was missing—”
“I meant for the first nightmare-free sleep I’ve had in longer than I can remember.” She grinned back at him then, delighting in the feeling of lightness that she’d awakened with. “For what time we slept, I mean.”
“Well, if I’d known it would help that much…” he said with a suggestive leer.
She reached for him then, unable to quite believe her life had turned around so completely that this beautiful man was hers to touch, to stroke, to kiss. And this time, with a boldness she had never expected to feel again, she took the lead, doing that touching, stroking, kissing, until tough, strong Brady begged her to end it and she straddled him, taking him as deep into her as she could, savoring the stretching, the fullness, moving until all control shattered and he grabbed her hips and locked her to him as he arched up beneath her with a groan of her name in the same moment she gasped out his.
When she could move again, after collapsing atop him, he held her gently in place. “Stay there. It feels…perfect.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “It does.”
For a few long, silent moments, she just lay there, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling the heat of him warming her enough to make up for the fact that the covers on the bed had long ago been tossed aside.
And then he spoke quietly into the dim, dawn light. “Tell me about the nightmares.”
A little to her own surprise, she didn’t cringe at the thought. Telling Dr. Andler—her mind sparked with anger at just the name, but she set it aside for the moment—about it had been beyond difficult, but now, to Brady, it came out easily.
“It’s really only one, with slight variations. In it I’m a child again, in a dark house, and down the hall I see a monster walking toward my father’s den. I know it’s bad, that I need to warn him, but I’m frozen, I can’t even scream.”
; Brady muttered an oath under his breath and pulled her tighter against him, and it comforted her more than anything had since this living nightmare had started. More than anything had ever, she realized. It felt more than right, it felt perfect.
“What does the monster look like?” he asked.
She gave a weary shake of her head. “I never see more than a shadow.”
“But you know it’s a monster.”
“In the dream, yes.”
“Is it an animal? Like a tiger or a snake? Or something unreal, like a dragon or hydra?”
“A troll or an ogre, maybe,” she said dryly.
“So it’s a human shape? Or could be a human exaggerated by a child’s fear?”
She blinked. She hadn’t really thought about it in that way. “I…suppose so. But whatever it is, it freezes me to the spot, and I can’t move or even scream.”
He hugged her again. “I’m sorry, Ash. I can’t imagine going through that every night.”
She shook off the chill that thinking of the nightmare always brought. “Not last night,” she said with a smile as she stroked a hand down his rib cage and savored the way he sucked in an audible breath and clenched his jaw. And using everything she had learned of him during the night, every way he liked to be touched, every caress that drove him wild, she pushed him to the edge until he rolled them both over and drove into her fiercely, just as she’d wanted. Craved. Needed. As she never had before.
And then, amazingly, she slept again. And the nightmare did not come.
CHAPTER 32
“That,” Quinn said, “is a nice sound.”
Brady, who had just come out of the shower in time to hear the laughter from the kitchen, looked that way in time to see Hayley and Ash grinning at each other over the rims of two coffee mugs.
“Yes,” he said. “The best.”
“I don’t even care if we’re the subject.”
Brady blinked. “You think we are?”
“Given how things changed overnight, I’d say it’s a good guess.”
Harlequin Romantic Suspense December 2020 Box Set Page 68
