Elusive Identities: Cowboy Justice Association (Serials and Stalkers Book 1)

by Olivia Jaymes

  "The second rule of gun safety is don't shoot at dark figures that you can't identify. Once again, you were never in any danger. I wasn't even close to discharging my weapon."

  Her heart was still beating like a brass band in a parade.

  "What if you'd touched the trigger by accident?"

  Shaking his head, Chris placed his hands on her shoulders, their weight pleasant and reassuring.

  "We're not going to do this, Ella. I'm not going to stand here in this freezing cold kitchen in my bare feet and answer your what-if questions all night. You're going to have to take my word for it that you were never in any danger. Now let's get to the important part of this conversation. Are you okay? Are you sick?"

  No and no. No, she wasn't okay and no, she wasn't sick.

  "I'm not sick."

  It was the easiest answer.

  "I couldn't sleep."

  That was true as well.

  His expression softened and he stepped closer, the heat radiating from his body making the room far warmer than the actual temperature. But as always, he kept his distance at the same time. Even if it was only a few inches. He was always the professional. Right now she wanted more. She wanted him to hold her and tell her everything was going to be fine. She didn't care if he was lying to her; she needed to hear it. She'd believe him if only for tonight. Tomorrow, of course, was another story.

  "I should have expected that. To be honest, I had trouble falling asleep, too."

  With his brown hair sticking up every which way, he looked like a sleepy little boy.

  "I'm not sure I believe you. You look like you were sleeping just fine."

  "When I finally fell asleep." He reached for the refrigerator door. "Are you hungry? I can heat something up. Or thirsty?"

  She held up her glass of water. "Got something already, although I have no clue why it's not broken all over the floor."

  Chuckling, he pulled open the refrigerator again. "How about I make you some of my dad's famous hot chocolate? Guaranteed to make you feel better and help you sleep."

  "Guaranteed by whom?"

  Rummaging in a cabinet, Chris pulled out a saucepan to go with his gallon of milk. "My dad, of course. If you don't like it, I'll give you his phone number."

  While it might be interesting to talk to Chris's dad, it probably wasn't a great idea to do it in the middle of the night.

  "Can I help?"

  "Naw, I got this. It's easy." He pulled out a kitchen chair. "This won't take long. While I warm the milk up you can talk to me."

  "About what?"

  "About anything. When Annie has a bad dream, I make her hot chocolate and we talk. Eventually, her nightmare seems further away and she's able to sleep."

  Fantastic, Chris was equating her with his young daughter. It was probably the unicorn pajamas.

  It had snuck up on her...how much she wanted his approval. But mostly how much she wanted...him.

  "Why don't you go curl up on the couch and I'll bring your cocoa to you."

  Too tired to argue - and not sure why she would to begin with - Ella plopped down on the couch. She was simply out of sorts when she didn't sleep and it made her irritable. There was no reason to start a fight with Chris but she kind of wanted to. At least it would keep her mind occupied.

  Idiot. That's why he wants to talk to you. To get your mind off of the break-in.

  There was a fluffy blanket folded over the arm of the sofa and she tugged it over herself, tucking it in around her feet. She didn't really want to watch television but the sound in the background might help. She clicked it on and turned it to cable news out of habit, keeping the volume low. One of her co-workers from the station was animatedly talking about the weather. It was going to be chilly tomorrow.

  Where in the hell was Chris? He was supposed to be making hot chocolate but–

  "I rummaged in the cupboard and found the Milano cookies that I keep hidden from Annie. I thought you might be hungry."

  Sighing, she smiled and murmured her thanks. She was jumpy and impatient. She'd almost given him a rash of shit for taking a few extra moments in the kitchen. He'd only been a few feet away but she was ready to admit that she didn't want to be alone.

  "You keep them hidden?"

  He placed the saucer of cookies and the two steaming mugs on the coffee table in front of them before sitting on the couch. Not too close. Once again, he was completely professional. Except this wasn't really a professional moment in their lives. They were both wearing pajamas. Hers had a fantasy character on them and his were dark blue with gray stripes paired with an old gray t-shirt.

  "In a box of shredded wheat cereal. She wouldn't go near that."

  Ella reached for her cocoa. "So what do you want to talk about?"

  "I'm not picky. What do you want to talk about?"

  You. I want to know more about you.

  "Tell me something most people don't know about you."

  I sound like some kind of groupie. Crap.

  He tapped his chin, a smile playing around his lips. "Hmmm...that's a good question. Let's see...I'd eat nothing but junk food if I thought I could get away with it. Like those cookies."

  Picking up a cookie, he held it up before taking a huge bite out of it.

  "You can get away with it." It was amusing to watch the way he clearly relished the sweet treat. "You're an adult. You can eat chocolate cake and ice cream for breakfast if you want to. There's no one policing this, Chris."

  Her gaze wandered down to his lean middle, his flat abs outlined under the worn cotton. He might love sugar but it didn't appear to be a problem. She should be so lucky.

  "I'm policing it. I don't want the issues from eating a crappy diet. So I'm careful. Luckily, I like to be active. But it's fine to have a treat now and then. What about you?"

  "I like chocolate but I'm more of a salty snack sort of person. Popcorn, chips, those sorts of things."

  "So now it's my turn."

  For what? Oh right.

  "Ask me anything. At this point, you know more about my life than just about anyone in the world."

  Her words came out bitter instead of the "whatever" attitude she'd been going for, but frankly, she was a lousy actress.

  "I think something more is bothering you than the break-in. Do you want to talk about it?"

  She didn't even have to think for a split second about the answer.

  "No."

  "No?"

  "No," she repeated, her tone firm. "And stop being so calm and reasonable. It's pissing me off."

  His brows rose in question but he didn't verbalize it. She couldn't blame him. He was probably thinking that he needed to sit there very still until she was done having a tantrum or whatever it was that she was doing.

  It was just all too much.

  Kelly, her parents, the investigation, the break-in, and...Chris. She couldn't handle all of that and how she was beginning to feel for him, too. There wasn't enough brain bandwidth to deal with it all. She was losing her mind and he was sitting there as if everything was fine and dandy. He'd said he could be an asshole. How did that switch get flipped?

  She couldn't sit still anymore. She needed to move around or walk or something. It was like she could jump out of her own skin. Her adrenaline raced and the blood roared in her ears. She couldn't lie here any longer and keep her sanity.

  Springing up from the couch, she intended to stand and pace the living room but it didn't work out that way. As graceful as a newborn foal, her legs and feet tangled up in the blanket she'd tucked around her earlier. Arms flailing, she pitched toward the floor which was flying up to meet her but at the last minute she was granted a reprieve.

  Two strong arms caught her, wrapping around her waist and lifting her at the last minute. Instead of a goose egg on the forehead and a few bruises she was being cuddled against Chris's strong torso, feeling safe and warm. There was only one thing to say to him.

  "Goddamit, Chris Marks. I fucking hate you sometimes."

&nb
sp; 24

  Jesus frog in the afternoon, Ella was in a mood. She had every right to be, of course, but that didn't mean that it wasn't a challenge dealing with her. Chris had been on his best behavior this evening and it wasn't easy. He'd tossed and turned before being able to sleep, the mere thought of her in the bedroom next door driving him crazy. This attraction was becoming a problem.

  He wasn't always the most patient of men. Most of the time he could be laidback and relaxed but he could get his buttons pushed just like everyone else. Stacey had known exactly how to do it and she'd done it on purpose many times just to get a reaction from him. That's how he knew that Ella was doing the same thing. She was upset and apparently she didn't want to be upset all by herself. If she kept pushing him, she might get her wish.

  "You're welcome."

  He lifted her up so he could get the blanket untangled from her legs, and then set her firmly on her feet.

  "Did you hear me?"

  Her tone was aggressive and clearly this normally mild woman was fixing for a fight. Alrighty then. Who was he to deny her?

  "I did. Did you want to tell me why you fucking hate me or is this a guessing game? Because I just love that at two in the morning."

  He put a sufficient amount of sarcasm in his reply so she would know that she was walking a fine line. Not that she was in the mood to care but it was only fair to warn her.

  Her shoulders stiffened and she lifted her chin, poking him in the chest with her finger. Even her cheeks had turned red. She was pissed.

  "No guessing required," she replied, her tone matching his. "I'll tell you why I hate you."

  "Then tell me."

  "I will." Her voice was louder and her finger was still pressing against his heart. "I'm mad at you because you're so calm, cool, and collected when my life is falling apart. How can you be so fucking perfect all the time?"

  She gave him another hard poke in the sternum.

  "You make me want to trip you when you walk into a room just to see you struggle a little bit. You make me want to scream just to get you to yell back at me. My life is in shambles and I feel like the biggest failure in the world and you're like Ghandi. So patient and kind and sweet and it makes me sick because I don't feel kind and sweet at all. I feel...shit...I don't know how I feel. I just know that I feel something and I don't think that you do. How could you when I'm so fucked up?"

  The immediate silence between them was louder than any argument. Chris replayed her words in his head over and over until he could recite them from memory. Ella, for her part, looked like she wanted to run but instead had frozen in place. Her eyes were wide and panicked and if her brain was telling her to flee her feet weren't cooperating.

  If she ran, he'd run after her.

  Because he was feeling something, too. It wasn't the right time in his life, it sure as hell wasn't convenient, but dammit...Ella had wormed her way into his heart. And he wasn't nearly as pulled together as she thought he was.

  "First of all," he began, ticking off his first reply on his fingers. "I am not even close to Ghandi. I can have a temper at certain times and I have to remind myself not to lose my patience. I'm getting better as I get older but I still have a ways to go. In fact, I almost punched Knox in the face the other day when he was giving me shit about my dad. That wasn't mature or calm or even wise. I just might have ruined my chances of getting this job."

  Ella's eyes were still wide but now she was smiling. "You almost punched him?"

  "Yep, he took it pretty well, though. Logan ripped us a new one though, for fighting. He basically locked us in a room until we worked it out."

  "Are you okay now?"

  "We're getting there." He held up two fingers. "Now...second of all, I apparently still have issues about my dad. I'm proud to be his son but I don't want to live in his shadow. Which is why I was mad at Knox. Remember, I did say that I'm working on that."

  This time she didn't interrupt so he plowed forward. Being a coward wasn't an option at the moment. He'd better cowboy up because this was it.

  "And third." He held up three fingers, his pulse speeding up with excitement and fear. He didn't want to screw this up. "Just so we're clear, I feel something, too. I doubt I'm a decent prospect as a boyfriend because I'm divorced with a kid and I'm a recovering alcoholic, and let's face it, we're ass deep in this case but I think that I might be falling for you. My timing has never sucked so much."

  "I thought you were perfect," she said in a small voice. "That's awfully intimidating."

  "I'm not even close. I was trying to impress you. For the record, I think you're pretty intimidating. Smart, pretty, funny. I was just trying to keep up."

  Her smile widened and his heart squeezed so tightly in his chest it was painful. "I was impressed, but I like you more this way. Are you really messed up?"

  "Hopelessly," he assured her. The finger poking him in the chest was replaced with her hand pressed flat against him. He could feel the warmth of her flesh even with his t-shirt in between them. "I'm just making life up as I go. I don't have a clue."

  "You really had me convinced."

  "Like I said, I was just trying to impress you."

  She took a step closer and he could smell the coconut scent of her shampoo. "I was trying to impress you too, but I was doing a lousy job of it. I wanted you to think I was a better reporter than I really am."

  "You're a damn good reporter."

  She shook her head. "No, I'm an okay reporter. I'm not sure I'll ever be great."

  "I'd definitely want to hear terrible news from you."

  "That's the sweetest thing any man has ever said to me."

  Neither one of them said anything, both still unsure as to what all of this meant. It was Ella who finally broke the silence.

  "So what do we do now? Do we kiss? Do I wear your letterman jacket around campus? Do you think they'll talk about us at school tomorrow?"

  This woman was amazing. Feisty, funny, and she didn't let him get away with much. She'd sure as hell never be boring.

  "I left my letterman jacket back in Montana but I wouldn't mind a kiss."

  Ella had thought quite a bit about what it would be like to kiss Chris Marks. She'd imagined it several ways - soft and slow, fast and hard, tentative and searching, wet and wild. She'd been way off base.

  It was easy to tell that Chris had done this a time or two because he didn't hesitate once she gave him the go signal. Cupping her face, he leaned down to capture her lips, his breath warm against her cheek. This was a man confident in his kissing skills and for good reason. He knew what he was doing. She'd bet cash money that he'd had plenty of practice. A man as good-looking as he was probably had to fight them off when he was younger. Or now even. She'd seen waitresses giving him the eye but he didn't seem to notice.

  His tongue gently swiped at her bottom lip and she opened up, letting his tongue explore and tickle the roof of her mouth. His arms had pulled her closer and she could feel the heat of his body and the thump of his heart, in perfect rhythm with her own racing pulse. He took his time, in no hurry to move on as if cherishing her lips was the most natural thing in the world, something he did every day. Her universe narrowed to only the two of them, everyone else fast asleep, and she clung to his wide shoulders so she wouldn't fall into an embarrassing heap at his feet.

  When their first kiss was finally over, her head was spinning and her knees jelly. Damn, he packed a punch. From the expression of pure male satisfaction he was wearing, he was feeling pretty damn happy, too.

  "That was..." She didn't quite know what to say but it felt like she should say something. This shift in their relationship was big. Huge. Momentous.

  "Yeah," he agreed, although she hadn't really said anything. "That was..."

  Neither of them moved, content to simply stare into one another's eyes. After a few minutes though, Ella was ready for more. She wanted Chris to kiss her again. She wanted to kiss him back. She wanted...

  "We could go back to bed," she
suggested. There was no way Chris would suggest it himself. That whole cowboy gentleman crap had been pounded into him from birth. She loved his chivalry but it was a gigantic orange cone at this moment, a barrier keeping them apart.

  His brows pinched together and his hand reached out and smoothed a stray strand of hair back from her cheek. The mere brush of his fingers sent tingles down to her sock-clad toes.

  "Do you think you can sleep now?"

  "No."

  "No? Then why–"

  He broke off, a smile beginning to bloom on his face. He was starting to get it. She'd put his slowness down to being exhausted. Looked like they weren't going to get much rest tonight, either. They'd need massive amounts of coffee in the morning.

  "I need someone imperfect to tuck me in. Know anyone who can do that?"

  He bent his head so they were nose to nose. "Baby, I'm the man for the job."

  She was counting on that.

  25

  Usually the first time with a man was incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. Ella didn't have dozens and dozens of first times under her belt but she'd had her fair share.

  Sometimes to help herself relax she'd have a few glasses of wine and it would loosen her up a little bit so she wouldn't be so shy, but that wasn't an option. She simply wasn't the type to confidently toss her clothes aside and stand in the middle of Chris's bedroom bare-ass naked, just as bold as brass. She hadn't been brought up in a house that encouraged casual nudity, or any other type of nudity, to be perfectly honest. There was a time and a place for all of that.

  So it was a shock how easily her clothes seem to melt off of her body under Chris's skillful but gentle hands. Between his passionate kisses and teasing touch she barely noticed as her unicorn pajamas ended up in a pool at her feet along with her t-shirt, thick wool socks, and cotton panties.

  Her normally freezing cold toes were toasty warm as the entire temperature of the room seemed to have become decidedly tropical. She was thrilled to shed the extra layers and luxuriated in her nude flesh against his cool sheets.