She set the sauce-covered chicken and rice on plates and stuck one in the microwave, turning it on. “If you have something to tell me, tell me.”
He glanced at her before returning his gaze to the screen. “There’s nothing to tell.”
Now that she found hard to believe. Joe could be written off as trying to screw with Lucas, but Charlotte Pleasant and Caleb Smith? They weren’t the kind of people you took home to Mama, but Harper knew they weren’t colluding. Smith disapproved of Charlotte on every level, and neither had anything to win by making her wary of Lucas. So, no. Harper wasn’t ready to put the FBI incident out of her mind, or to buy Lucas’s squeaky-clean avowals. He was hiding something. But, she had to concede, so was she. Maybe all was not cut-and-dried with him, but maybe he kept secrets for a good cause. Like she did.
“So far,” Harper said, “I’ve been in danger twice. Once because my brother kidnapped me, and the second time because the FBI were tailing you. I’m beginning to believe we’ve been reading this whole situation wrong. I might be the weakest link, but I am not the target.” The microwave binged. She took out the plate and put the other in to cook. She hit the on button.
“And if you’re wrong?” His dismissal was quick and final. “I’m not willing to risk it.”
“What are you risking?” Other than a pause in typing, and an obvious decision to not respond, he gave nothing away. It made a girl wonder.
The heavy silence dragged out, interrupted only by the microwave binging two minutes later. Carrying the leftovers to the table, she accepted his mumbled thank-you before gathering two water bottles from the refrigerator. She wanted to stay down here with him, because even with all the unknowns between them, she still preferred being with Lucas rather than not, but she knew herself well enough to know she wouldn’t be able to leave the elephant in the room be. She’d poke and prod. Maybe confess when she shouldn’t. It was more sensible to run and hide, like she did a year ago. Yeah, she’d been protecting him when he tried to push back into her life after Alice’s murder, but she’d been protecting herself, too. How would she have felt when the crisis was over and he left?
Harper took her dinner upstairs to eat alone, and that’s where she stayed until, hours later, tossing in bed, she couldn’t lie there a moment longer chewing over her fearful thoughts and regrets. Turning on her bedside table lamp, she gave in to curiosity and slid open the table’s drawer. Joe’s silver locket was tucked in the back. She didn’t want to touch the keepsake, a symbol of that year they’d survived together, something once precious, now sullied beyond repair. Then she couldn’t help but touch it. Grabbing it by the delicate chain, she lifted her hand until the locket, no bigger than her thumb, dangled and swayed to the rhythm of her heartbeat. It didn’t burn to touch. It had no magical properties that brought Joe back from the dead. It was okay to look at, and its existence changed nothing.
Joe had said the locket would explain everything.
She’d supposed Joe was speaking metaphorically. She didn’t know, but if there was a message in its existence, the metaphor was too cryptic for her to unravel. As a practical matter, the locket was no less tightfisted with its secrets. Studying it from all angles, she dangled it under the lamp’s glow, frustrated with Joe’s insistence it mattered. She saw nothing she hadn’t seen a million times before, except now the keepsake was a clue.
Dejected, she gripped it in her fist and lay back on the pillows, clutching it to her chest. Joe was dead. She’d thought he’d taken her secrets with him, but she should have known better. A secret wasn’t a secret if more than one person knew it, and Charlotte already tried to leverage it for the list. The nonexistent list.
It was time to tell Dane.
She whipped the locket against the wall, furious with herself. When it broke on contact, angst dispelled her rage as quickly as it had come. Though the sentiment behind the locket had been a lie, it had been real to Harper for a long time. She slid off the bed, gathering the pieces off her pastel rug. The hair clippings had scattered, but she was surprised to find something affixed to one of the locket halves.
A two-gig SIM card. “Oh my gosh and fucking golly.” The locket will explain…
Her immediate response was to run to Lucas downstairs, but something made her pause. Joe had given her this SIM card to keep it safe, not Harper, so it was important, but to what end? Turning on her laptop, she slipped the SIM card into its slot. It contained one file, which contained one sentence: Harper MacLain, TD Bank, Elm Street, Safe-Deposit Box 1244-8488.
“Oh, no.” The list. It had to be. And it had her name attached to it. Rumors, and more rumors…was this where they started? Or did they just solidify suspicions? Who else knew about this safe-deposit box? “Joe, you piece of shit.” He’d screwed her from the start, putting her in the center of the biggest scandal to hit the East Coast since Whitey Bulger. If she was right, Harper was the only person who could access the list. So how the hell did everyone else know before her? She rested her face on her hands. “Thanks, Joe. Thanks a bunch.”
Harper closed the laptop and mulled over her problem. It all came down to who she trusted. Dane, completely, but two for two, he’d been more trouble than help. Kidnapping her, ramming the FBI’s car? She needed a more level head. That left Lucas. She had to trust him. Was he keeping secrets from her? Obviously. Yeah, the FBI, the many warnings Lucas wasn’t to be trusted from her surprisingly long list of criminal acquaintances…they all scratched at her sense of caution. They didn’t, however, negate what she knew…what was painfully true. Lucas lived for his job and would never do something to jeopardize his ability to be a cop. She’d give him the SIM card and he’d do the right thing. If he didn’t? Shoot me now.
Stripping off her T-shirt and boxers, Harper walked naked to her closet and moved her hangers to the side, until she found the silk nightgown in the back. It was the one Lucas bought her. His favorite. Slipping it over her head, she smoothed it in place, and shivered as its coolness clung to her breasts, belly and thighs. She studied her reflection in the mirror affixed to the closet door and saw her red curls drape over her pale, wide shoulders and full breasts, her hair’s color a sharp contrast to the cream-colored silk of the nightgown. The last time she’d worn it, she’d thought she would be with Lucas forever. Now, she’d be happy with just tonight.
Barefoot, Harper hurried downstairs and found him sleeping on her too-small couch, naked but for his briefs, a quilt half on and half off him, oblivious to the air-conditioning blasting. He didn’t look comfortable with his legs hanging over the side, his muscular bulk ready to roll off onto the hardwood floor.
Harper sat on the ottoman across from him, the silk of her nightgown moving against her skin with every breath, teasing her. She was so close she could feel the heat radiating from him, tempting her to touch and feel his burn.
He broke her heart…but she’d long since stopped blaming him. It was her fault. All of it. Lucas wasn’t the one who’d changed that night in the restaurant.
Worry tugged at his features even in sleep; though he was still handsome and intense. She’d never met anyone who made her feel like Lucas made her feel—happy, silly, aroused, safe. Sometimes all at once. Her instinct was to curl next to him and wrap his body around hers, hiding in his strength. She wanted to belong in his arms. It was the crux of their problem. She didn’t belong there. Never had. She’d just been renting space.
When she woke him, gave up the SIM card, things would happen fast. He’d contact IA, the lieutenant, maybe Dane. Harper would be asked questions that would require her to give up her secret, to confess it all, and she’d do it, hoping the list would be consolation enough for her brother to forgive her…himself. She wasn’t looking forward to the next few hours, though she knew they were necessary, and was having a hard time getting the ball rolling. So she sat there, watching him sleep. It was agony, and precious. The last two days had opened old wounds, and like an addict, she’d savored her fall into bad habits.
> Handing over the card represented an end to Harper’s involvement in the case, and therefore an end to Lucas in her life. But not yet. Not yet.
She reached out. His eyes opened before her fingers connected. “Hi,” she said.
Chapter Nine
Lucas blinked. He hadn’t slept for long. His internal clock said it had to be past midnight, but he was awake as soon as he saw Harper, barefoot and wearing a cream-colored silk thingy…damn, he remembered that nightgown. He tugged the blanket over his lap to hide his instant hard-on. “Hi,” he said. “Can’t sleep?”
She tilted her head to the side, exposing her delicate neck, drawing his eyes to the silk covering her breasts, lush, her nipples erect. The hunger in his gut twisted and made it hard to breathe.
“Did you ever love me?” she said.
He still did, but her question was easier to answer, so he relaxed into it. “Yes.”
Something had prompted the question. He wasn’t sure she believed him but forced himself to be patient and wait for the real reason she sat before him. Her expression reminded him of a year ago, at the expensive restaurant he’d taken her to days before she’d left him. They’d been sipping champagne, he’d been scared shitless, teetering between doing what he wanted and what he thought was right. The engagement ring he’d bought on a whim burned in his jacket pocket. He’d had an epiphany; he’d give everything up, things he’d worked his entire career for, if it meant having her in his life. And the only thing stopping him was Harper didn’t ask it of him. He knew she wanted kids, a family life, to be part of his future. They both knew he’d have to change to be the kind of guy that deserved her. Sitting there in that restaurant, sipping champagne, it was scary knowing his happiness, so tied to this woman, was tenuous at best. Hence, the ring. He’d choked. Days later she left him and his two possible futures were whittled to none, his life a meal with no seasoning.
“It’s been a year, Harper.” She left him.
She pressed her hands over her heart. “I want you to know I trust you.”
Lucas leaned toward her, his knees touching hers, his heart on his sleeve, their breath intermingling. He’d take trust. He’d be grateful for trust. “Thank you.” He saw the struggle she was trying to hide. It seemed obvious to him that she wanted to tell him something, and the longer she took to speak, the more uneasy he became.
Harper covered her face and took a moment. When she dropped her hands, she was poised again. “I believe people, Lucas. I’m gullible. I just am. I don’t see that as a flaw. Believing people means I see the best in them. That’s a good thing.”
“It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
“Well, it’s caused me nothing but trouble.”
“What is this about? Closure?” Lucas took her hand, running his thumb along her palm. “For me or for you?” Her skin was soft. He missed touching her, couldn’t look her in the eye for fear of revealing this vulnerability. Vulnerability never won a girl. “This last year has been all about moving on for you.” He’d been the one who couldn’t find closure.
Harper tensed. “I don’t know what that means.”
“I know you said otherwise, but you seemed over me the moment you left. Admit it.” The words were out before he could rein them in, and then he felt the need to defend himself. “I understand that we broke up, and I understand that you’d want your distance, especially after what you’ve been dealing with this last year, but I don’t understand how you just turned off your feelings for me when you left. Unless you never really had them in the first place.”
“That’s not how it was.” Harper searched his face, rueful. “I was protecting you, Lucas. My family was poison in the precinct. And I was protecting me. Trying to be strong, I guess. I don’t know anymore.”
She’d mentioned this before, wanting to protect his career. Since that was all he’d admitted to wanting in life, why wouldn’t she believe that was his highest priority? Lucas had never felt more like an ass than he did now. “You broke my heart.”
“Lucas.” Harper blinked, as surprised as he’d ever seen her, and in that surprise, he saw what she’d hidden so well this last year. She still had feelings for him. He could see it. Then something, deep inside, unfolded and Lucas had to call her on that, to claim what was there for the taking.
“Turnabout is fair play. Did you ever love me, Harper?”
She was trembling, searching his expression for something. What, he had no idea. “You broke my heart, too,” she said.
Neither moved…then he leaned toward her, hesitated an inch from her lips, and held her gaze, waiting to see if she’d accept his kiss. When Harper threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with gusto, his heart burst with hope and happiness. He felt as if they were floating on air and all that existed was this kiss…and as it grew in intensity, it became less controlled. His body vibrated with so much contained hunger, his gut told him to take her now, take her hard. But he’d waited too long to rush this moment, so he took note of the pressure of her kiss, turn of her head, caress of her tongue tasting his. All while his body demanded he Take. Her. Now.
When she crawled on his lap, knees sinking in the couch on either side of him, his hands grabbed her ass and discovered her nakedness. His body reacted instantly. Hips rocking. Harper gasped as his brief-covered arousal connected with her soft warmth. She threw her head back, mouth open, seemingly surprised as her arousal grew, fed by his touch.
He needed her naked. Slipping the nightgown off, he feasted on her breast, savoring the sight of her, and the sound of her moans. When he had her rocking her hips against him, her tiny noises driving him wild, he sank his tongue in her mouth, drowning in her, reveling in sensations he’d thought never to experience again. Harper. How many nights had he longed to be with her as he was now? Too many to count, and there was no going back…unless she asked it of him.
Harper pulled at his briefs. Lucas broke their kiss, seeing the answer in her eyes. She wanted this as much as he did. “When all this shakes out,” she said, out of breath and trembling with want. “I’ll own my mistakes. I’ll pay for them.”
“I refuse to be your mistake.” He stood, holding her, keeping her flush with his body, as her legs locked around his hips. Then he hurried upstairs, kissing her, feeling his way to her bedroom, using the walls to guide him and the laptop’s light to find the bed.
Harper wiggled out of his arms only long enough to strip him of his briefs and then she sat on the bed’s edge, and pulled him toward her by the hips, kissing his belly, caressing him, licking and tasting until he trembled under her hands. It was agony and heaven…and then he couldn’t contain himself and pressed her onto the bed, splaying a hand between her breasts, kissing his way up her body until Harper was gasping and clutching the sheets, watching him, his lips, his tongue as he explored her. When her eyes glazed over, he covered her body with his, loving how her arms pulled him close.
“I missed this. You,” she said.
He’d missed her, too. “Losing you was the most devastating failure of my life.” He drew his palm up her belly, cupping her breast. She caught her breath as he drew his thumb over its tip, and rocked her hips against him, seeking him. It aroused him beyond measure.
Harper pulled him close, whispering. “Make me forget.”
“I’ll make you remember.” He nipped her lush bottom lip and then kissed her deeply, positioning himself. Harper wiggled, frantic to help, and with one stroke Lucas sheathed himself inside her, and it was like…coming home.
All his emotions—regret, longing, grief, and desire—swirled together, blending with a feeling of rightness he’d missed. As he loved Harper, as they moved in concert, eager and frenzied, he kissed her as she begged for harder, faster. Her desperate motions mirroring his, spiraling out of control, and then Harper shouted her release as Lucas was slammed by his own. She was spectacular. He was humbled.
“It was always you,” he said. The words surprised him, because he only now realized they w
ere absolutely the truest thing he’d ever said. Always Harper, from the moment he met her. So where did that leave him?
If she heard his confession, Harper didn’t acknowledge it. Out of breath, eyes unfocused, she gasped through her response. “No matter what happens, I’m glad we had these last two days.”
“No matter what happens? You’ve crippled me.” He laughed, struggling to slow his breathing.
She was also out of breath, flushed, but as she held his gaze, he saw guilt. “Don’t freak out,” she said.
He noted her worry. “Talk to me.”
Harper hugged him close, and then kissed him with more vigor than passion. She’d said she trusted him. Had loved him. Whatever it was she had to share with Lucas was big enough that she’d felt it necessary to draw those lines of distinction.
He broke the kiss, saw her fear. Whatever was to come, he had to be ready. Rolling off the bed, hating that they were now subject to a distance that might last forever, he stepped into his briefs and braced himself. “Tell me.”
Harper bypassed the silk nightgown on the floor and instead grabbed a T-shirt, jeans, and her beat-up Converse sneakers. So whatever she had to say wasn’t something they could sleep on.
He watched as she picked up a broken necklace from her side table and held it out to him. When he looked closer, his breath left his body. He was shocked. Hurt.
“The locket,” he said. So she’d lied to Joe, to all of them in the interrogation room. Now Lucas’s fear had fertile ground. What had she done? “The locket. The one you said you didn’t remember.” She flushed, and he chastised himself to move on to the meat of the issue. “Why is it in pieces?”
“Doesn’t matter. But when it broke, I found a SIM card hidden in it.” She waved him over to her desk, and upon clicking the mouse, making the screen saver disappear, she revealed the document. “This is what was on it.”
He read the single line—Harper’s name, a familiar bank, its address, and a safe-deposit box number. His heart pounded. Flight or fight was in full bloom as he stepped away from the computer, listening to the house’s sounds. It was quiet but felt like a lull before the storm. “How long have you known about this?” He held his breath, controlling himself lest she drop another truth bomb that needed his focus.
Tempted by a Touch (Unlikely Hero) Page 13