Hot Pursuit

by Jennifer Bernard

  "Because the investigation has expanded. The DEA has undercover agents on it now. It's huge. And they don't need you in the middle of it."

  "But think, Douglas. You just said this was huge. How can we ignore it? We're a newspaper. I'm a reporter. So are you. Does it really sit right to pass on the biggest story around here in years? That's like, that's like…journalistic negligence."

  Disbelief echoed in her voice. His expression tightened. "Watch yourself."

  She bit the inside of her mouth to keep any more furious words at bay.

  "You don't have the experience to handle a story like this."

  "I do," she said hotly. So much for keeping her resentment to herself. "I've been working it. I think I know who the kingpin is. I think I know how the distribution network is set up. I'm all over this story, and I need to stay on it. You wanted big? This will be the biggest story of the year!"

  He was shaking his head at her, as if she were a child. "I get your enthusiasm. But you're in over your head. If you want this story, you have to prove you're a good soldier. A good team player."

  "What are you talking about? I'm a great team player. I've never even taken a sick day. I work all the time. I write more stories than any other reporter, I work weekends, nights—"

  "Cold case."

  "Excuse me?"

  Douglas turned his computer monitor to face her. A newspaper photo of a stern-looking middle-aged man who looked a lot like Will filled the screen. "Jupiter Point's only unsolved murder. The Robert Knight case. That's a big story. You already know the family, since you did the Knight and Day story. Prove yourself to me. If you get me that story, maybe we can talk opioids again."

  Merry tried to work off her stress with a run along Stargazer Beach. She went right from there to a yoga class, but left in mid-downward dog because she was just too antsy. She drove out to the community college for her weekly office hours, but could barely concentrate on her students' complaints about their grades.

  Couldn't they tell she was in crisis? She couldn't talk about it with any of her Jupiter Point friends—too much was confidential. Carolyn was at her other college gig. Mama was in Japan. Gah! How was she supposed to sort through all these confusing choices?

  She could refuse the Knight murder story. But if she did, her new boss would lose his last remaining shreds of patience with her. She could tell him that she and Will were….something. But what, exactly? And how would that affect Douglas' opinion of her? If she did the story about Will's father, would he hate her? If she secretly kept working the opioids story, would she lose her job?

  All her choices sucked.

  By the time Will knocked on the door of her apartment, Merry felt like one of those bouncing balls made of hundreds of rubber bands. In other words, a nervous wreck. She still didn't know what to do about Douglas's challenge.

  But she did know one thing—ratting her out to the sheriff so she'd pull the plug on the Buckaroo story was sheer crap.

  She flung the door open to greet him, ready to tear into him.

  When she found herself facing a gigantic bouquet of lilies, from tiger to peace to stargazer, she momentarily forgot her fury.

  She buried her face in the flowers and inhaled the heavenly fragrance.

  Then pollen got up her nose, she sneezed, and all her anger came rushing back.

  "Did you go behind my back, Will?" she demanded as he strode into her apartment and looked around. Strangely, Will looked instantly right at home in her space. Maybe her taste was too masculine, she mused, making a mental note to change everything to pink just to spite him.

  "For the flowers and condoms?" He whipped out a strip of condoms from his pocket. "Were we supposed to do that together? You need to fill me in on these things, babe."

  "Don't you call me babe." She took the bouquet from his hands and marched into the kitchen for a vase. "You know I'm not talking about the flowers, and as for the condoms, I hope you kept your receipt."

  She ran water into the bamboo vase, which also happened to drown out his response. When she'd settled the flowers into a pretty display, she set the vase on her kitchen table and turned to face him. For the first time since he'd walked in, she allowed herself to look at him. She didn't want to give in to her attraction before she'd spoken her mind.

  He was watching her with an expression somewhere between amusement and bewilderment. Since they'd parted ways, he'd showered, shaved, and changed into black slacks and a taupe button-down shirt. His gray eyes took on a clear, almost sage-green tone from the shirt. With his scruff gone, the planes of his face looked clean and strong.

  He looked beautiful. Damn him.

  "What's going on?" he asked.

  "My boss ordered me off the opioids investigation. He got a call from the sheriff's department." She was watching him closely, so she noticed the expression of relief that flitted across his face. Even though it was quickly followed by one of sympathy, the point had been made. "You agree with him!"

  "Yes, I agree. I'm sorry because I know how much you've put into it, but I do agree."

  "Then why did I have to find out from my boss? Why didn't you warn me?"

  His face turned to stone, and suddenly she knew what it must be like to face him as a criminal suspect. "You think I told on you? That I went behind your back…what, sometime after last night? What the hell, Merry?"

  "Who else even knows I was working at the Rooster? It had to be you!"

  The storm brewing behind his eyes sent a quick thrill through her. "You seriously think I'd do something like that? Stab you in the back, then waltz in here with flowers and condoms, hoping to get lucky?"

  She stared at him as the first hint of doubt set in. "It wasn't you?"

  "Of course it wasn't me. Jesus, Merry. I've always been straight with you. The DEA has someone undercover at the Rooster. They must have recognized you. If I was going to do that, why wouldn't I have done it earlier, when I first saw you there? Why now?"

  Her quick, hot anger was draining away, as it so often did. "But you asked me to drop it."

  "And you did. I haven't seen anything in the paper. So why would I do anything more?"

  Ugh, he was right. She was wrong. Of all the conflicts they'd had over the years, none of them had involved Will being a liar or a backstabber or a manipulator. He was none of those things, and she knew it.

  "I might have jumped to conclusions," she admitted.

  "Yeah, you did."

  She winced and took a step back. Her butt hit the edge of the table. Will charged forward to catch the vase before it crashed onto the floor. Instead of setting it back in place, he held it in his arms. The tiger lilies brushed his chin. Now he looked furious and adorable.

  And all her misguided anger was officially gone.

  "You're right," she said in a low voice. "Here's the thing. It's hard for me to trust people, especially men. I have reasons for that, but it's not your fault. I shouldn't have thought the worst right away. I'm sorry."

  He looked down at her, over the top of the orange-spangled petals, and even though the flowers were beautiful, his eyes captured all her attention. They were so intent, so stormy, so filled with heat. "Did you just say you're sorry?"

  "Yes. I'm sorry." She lifted her chin. She didn't particularly enjoy apologizing, and with the quick way her mind worked, occasionally she jumped to the wrong conclusion and had to backtrack. "I am capable of apologizing if I make a mistake. It's a sign of maturity, you know."

  "Very true."

  "And I'm keeping those flowers," she added in a completely immature tone. "You gave them to me, and if you take them back, that's like stealing. You can't steal because you're sworn to uphold the law."

  A smile ghosted across his lips. Then it turned into a full-fledged belly laugh. She smiled too, so relieved that she hadn't offended him to the point that he wanted to walk away.

  A quick flash of insight told her that would never happen. She couldn't offend him that much. Will wouldn't walk away, he'd st
ick it out. Work it out.

  But she could certainly hurt him. How could she even consider doing the story Douglas wanted her to do?

  The story that might mean the difference between losing her job and keeping her job.

  Or losing and keeping Will.

  She couldn't. Sorry, Douglas. Not happening.

  Her gaze dropped to his lips, which still curved in that delighted smile. She forgot all those other worries and remembered how his mouth had felt as he suckled her to orgasm. Her face went hot. Desire shimmered through her. How she wanted this man, with his inner strength, his sense of humor, his thoughtful gestures. His patience.

  "The flowers belong to you." He put the vase back on the table. "The more important question is whether I should keep the condoms." He raised a wicked eyebrow at her, and suddenly every bit of the tension between them transformed into something sexual instead.

  She pretended to think about the question seriously, tapping her finger on her chin. "Hm. I sincerely doubt you can return them. Besides, it would be such a loser move, wouldn't it?"

  "I'd never live it down," he agreed. "It would be all over town in minutes. 'Did you hear Will Knight struck out so hard he had to return his condoms?'"

  She giggled. "You might get the sympathy vote from some of the ladies in town. Get some pity pussy."

  "Pity pussy?"

  "Phrase from the hood. A girl feels sorry for you, she might throw you a bone, you know?"

  He advanced toward her. "Let me break it down for you. A, I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me. B, I only want one pussy. Yours. So if you don't want to use these damn condoms, they're either going back or they're going in the trash. Because it's you or no one. And I think it should be you." He reached her and cupped his hands behind her neck. "You and me. There's something here, something special and real and I know you feel it too. Tell me you don't."

  She thought about denying it—or making a joke, teasing him, something Merry Warren the wisecracking reporter would do. But right now, she had no interest in her reporter side. Her heart reached for Will, longed for him. "I feel it," she said softly. "You know I do."

  His eyes darkened. "Then what are we still doing out here in your cleaner-than-I-expected living room?"

  "Cleaner than you expected?" She laughed at him. "You're asking for it, Deputy."

  "Oh, I am. I'm definitely asking for it. I might even beg for it."

  "Now that I gotta see."

  He ran his thumb across her lower lip, the touch as light as a butterfly wing. The rough surface of his thumb felt so good it made her blood sizzle. "Merriweather Gabriela Oliveira Warren. I am completely and thoroughly enthralled by you. Will you please take me to your bedroom so we can fuck the way we both are dying to?"

  "You looked up my full name." Hardly anyone knew her entire name. She loved hearing it on his lips.

  "Yup."

  She blinked at him innocently. "How about 'enthralled'? Did you look that up in a thesaurus?"

  "That's it." He lifted her up and slung her over his shoulder caveman-style. "Challenging my vocabulary, that's pushing me too far. Brace yourself, woman."

  Between her laughter and the excitement rampaging through her, she couldn't even think about bracing herself. All she could do was hang on for the ride as he carried her into her bedroom.

  20

  Will felt like a new person with Merry laughing in his arms. He felt alive in a way he hadn't for so many years; alive and on fire. He wanted her with a feverish intensity that maybe should have scared him—but didn't.

  When he reached her bedroom, which wasn't hard to find in the tiny apartment, he set her down on her feet. The caveman act only went so far. Even though his palms tingled with the need to touch her, he had to make sure they were on the same page with this.

  Her bed held a comforter the color of cabernet and a profusion of silk pillows. A yoga mat was propped in the corner with some free weights littered around it. An empty wine glass sat near a pile of books on the nightstand, precariously close to the edge.

  He reached out and nudged it to a safer spot.

  "Are you trying to tidy up my place?" Merry's brilliant eyes flung sparks at him.

  "I wouldn't dare. Besides, I'd rather mess it up some more." He ran his hands lightly up her arms, from wrists to shoulders, bare under her tight, sleeveless top. Electricity hummed between them.

  "Checking in one more time. I'm in if you are." He pulled the strip of condoms from his pocket and dangled it between them.

  "I let you carry me into the bedroom like a sack of potatoes," she said dryly. "Pretty sure I'm in."

  "Merry." He drew her close and lightly brushed his lips against hers. "Not everything needs to be a joke. Sometimes you can just say what you want. What you feel."

  "Want to know what I feel?"

  He read the caution in her eyes, saw it fighting against the attraction that pulled them together. He hated that she felt so wary. If there was something he could do to fix it, he'd do it. But he didn't have a road map for that. All he had was a burning desire to get Merry into bed and be everything she needed.

  She grabbed his ass with both of her hands. "Here's what I feel. I want you, Will Knight. And Imma gonna have you. Mistake or not, I don't even care."

  She toppled them both onto her bed—right where he wanted to be. The relief that burned through him was almost savage. This was going to happen. It really was.

  Kneeling, they faced each other. Feverishly, he maneuvered her top off her body while she did the same to his shirt. Then they tackled his pants and her leggings, until they were both down to their underwear, tousled and grinning crazily at each other. She reached inside his boxers and touched his erection. He closed his eyes to savor the sensation. Being with Merry brought out the best in him, pieces that he'd tossed in a dust pile and left for dead. She was such a bright star, so effervescent and alive, like a firefly trapped in woman form.

  The soft touch of her hand on his chest brought him back to the present. She was drawing it down his chest, tangling her fingers in the swirls of hair there. When he opened his eyes, he saw that she'd taken off her bra. The sight of her deep brown nipples against her glowing skin nearly made him come. He'd been fantasizing about this moment, about getting her naked again, ever since last night. And here she was, even more beautiful than he remembered.

  "You are truly a goddess," he breathed. He bent down and licked her nipples, one by one, giving each the dedicated focus it deserved. They pebbled under his tongue, which made him even madder with desire. He touched her thighs, satin skin over firm muscles. Slid his hand under her panties to uncover the moisture already gathering.

  She groaned and parted her legs even farther. "I love how you touch me."

  "I could do it forever," he said sincerely. "You're exquisite—and no, I didn't look that up in a thesaurus."

  She smiled against his lips, because now they were slipping into a kiss, the way a swimmer disappears into a lake. The waters closed over them, shutting out everything but their vibrant need for each other. He drank her kiss like an elixir, as if he needed nothing else in the world, forever more. And still he touched her, gliding his fingers through the sleek, tender folds sheltering her clit.

  He grazed the tight little bud with his thumb, making her jolt. He circled it, feeling his way through her responses, noting the exact degree of pressure and friction that had her grinding against his hand.

  "Will," she groaned. "God, I can barely stand it." Her hand tightened on his cock and a long sigh came from her lips.

  He ground his teeth together. "Hang on." He reached past her for the condoms on the nightstand. It seemed to take forever to rip one free. In the meantime, she never let go of his cock. The way she stroked him, good God, he was harder than steel from her caresses. If he didn't get inside her soon, he might burst. Or cry like a baby.

  Finally, he managed to grab a condom. He took a moment to get his boxers off, then sat back on his heels to sheath himself. As
she watched, her brown eyes gleaming, he slid the latex over his pounding, swollen erection.

  "Will Knight, I gotta say, I had no idea you had all this going on under that uniform." She waved at his groin, or maybe his thigh muscles, he wasn't sure exactly what.

  "All you had to do was ask," he told her. "I would have stripped it all off in a flash. Right in the middle of a press briefing."

  She laughed and stretched her body luxuriously, elongating the curve of her waist and arching her upper spine in a way that highlighted the magnificence of her breasts. Teasingly, she lifted her bottom and shimmied off her panties. He rose onto his knees and came toward her, feasting his eyes on every secret bit of her. When he was close enough, he braced himself over her, elbows on either side of her. She arched her chest up to brush her nipples against him, then wrapped her legs around the back of his thighs.

  "I want you inside me so much it literally hurts," she murmured. "Will you please stop talking and start doing? Feels like we've been talking forever."

  "It was all foreplay. All three years of it." He positioned himself at her soft entrance, where heat radiated like the sun. He reached down a hand and dragged it through her curls, finding her wet and slippery and more than ready. With one hand on her inner thigh, he pushed into her, just the tip, just to feel the divine joy of entering her body.

  He had to stop there because an orgasm threatened to burst upon him before he'd barely done anything. Let alone given her the experience she deserved.

  She gave a gasp and dropped her head back. "Stop fucking around," she ordered in a hoarse voice. "You're making me nuts."

  He gritted his teeth hard against the pleasure and thrust deeper. Between the extreme state of his erection and the condom, he needed to take it slow. Inch by agonizing, amazing inch, he seated his cock deep within her, until it felt as if he was touching her deepest core. Impaling her on the proud rod of his erection. Joining them together in wet, slippery, glorious union.

  And then her hips moved, and it felt so goddamn good that he couldn't hold back anymore. He flexed his hips to grind deeper, then harder. Then faster. Then more of whatever she wanted, as he tuned into her moans and cries and fingernail scrapes down his back.