by Audra North
What was she saying? That she wanted to be with him, but she didn’t want to take the risk with him?
It was the smart thing to do. He’d only end up disappointing her.
He groaned and walked to the edge of the bed, taking her face in his palms and pressing a kiss to her lips. She stared up at him.
“Let’s forget about it then, okay? Forget I said anything. I’m sorry.”
He thought it would make things better, but she only looked sadder.
It’s for the best.
He turned away and grabbed the rest of his clothes. “Look. I’ll see you next Wednesday. That hasn’t changed. Everything will be fine by then. I think tonight was a little intense, that’s all. It’s no big deal.”
At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.
She nodded, pulling the covers up around her as she sat on the bed. But she wouldn’t look at him.
It hurt him to see how the woman who had ordered him onto her bed, who had had the confidence and care to take him to a new level of pleasure, was wrapping herself in a linen cocoon. And she was doing it because he’d made her feel bad. He’d confused her and made her feel things for him that he didn’t deserve.
It was his fault.
But he couldn’t fix it. If he fixed it, that would mean getting involved. And if he got involved, she’d want too much of him that he wouldn’t be able to give. She’d leave him.
Besides, there were too many responsibilities waiting for him in the outside world. That was real life. This was an hour on Wednesdays.
He strode to the door. Opened it. Took a deep breath…
And left her behind.
Chapter Fifteen
“Have you seen Nina since she got back?”
Beatrice blinked, pulling herself out of her daydream about Warren, to find Rob standing in front of her desk. He was holding a laptop in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.
Funny, but after she’d snapped at him the week before last about the photo proofs, Rob had actually been a lot more deferential toward her. She wondered if that was just his way, to push until someone either stood up to him or crumbled completely. He and Nina had started off a bit at odds too, but once Nina had taken over the television programming and left the print media side of the house, they’d become much more friendly, swapping news stories regularly and even hanging out in the break room from time to time.
She liked this change in their relationship. It felt more equal and it gave her pride that she didn’t even realize was available for the taking.
“She waved to me in the hall a couple days ago. She said she’s slogging through catchup work, though, so probably won’t come up for air for another week or two.” It was hard to form words, as though she was so deep in thoughts of Warren the rest of her brain had simply given up. Somehow, she’d made it through nearly an entire week without seeing him, even though she’d wanted so much to pick up the phone and call him and say—what? I don’t like the way you confuse me? I want to be more than the girl you come all over every week?
Awkward.
Although she wanted to say so much, the reality was she couldn’t fathom actually doing it. It was one thing to kiss him within the boundaries of their arrangement. Well, more or less, anyway. But it was another thing to step outside of that safe zone and risk total humiliation. She’d gotten enough of a taste of that last week.
And yet, she still wanted him. Beyond all reason, she wanted him.
Rob snorted. “That was a long honeymoon they had. Thank God she taped a bunch of episodes before she left. That substitute nearly ruined the show. The guy was so boring, it was like listening to someone read the dictionary instead of deliver the news.”
Before Beatrice could nod in agreement, Jerry, the media director, barreled out of his office and ran over to her desk. “Rob, Beatrice. Get down to Orleans High School. A bomb threat came in and SWAT has been called to respond.”
Bomb threat? Oh, shit. SWAT was being called in.
That meant Warren.
Rob scuttled to his desk and began grabbing up his things, but she sat there for a moment, frozen, wondering how on earth she was going to be able to look at Warren through a lens, trying to tell the story of something dangerous and scary happening to him. She didn’t need a camera to see him. His image had already been burned into her brain, like a photo negative.
It stole her breath and she had to gasp in the next one.
“Whoa, Beatrice. You all right? You okay to do this?” Rob was back at her desk, a bag slung over his arm, keys to the Excelsior media van in hand.
“Yes, fine. I’m coming.” She swept up her camera bag from the floor.
There was only light traffic, but it still took nearly half an hour to get to the high school, which was on the other side of the city. By that time she had finally managed to compose herself enough to jump out of the van and immediately start snapping photos of the scene.
It’s too soon to feel this way, she’d told herself on the way over. This is temporary. He probably doesn’t think about you at all between Wednesdays. You should never have kissed him. She’d immediately refuted that one herself, though. Those kisses…more than the intimacy of his climaxes, it was the kisses she’d never want to forget.
And then she found herself photographing a trail from the van to the cluster of police vehicles and fire engines parked in front of the school. The kids had been evacuated. Most of them had already been picked up by caregivers or had left to go home by themselves, but a few stragglers were huddled at the other end of the soccer fields, being supervised and comforted by teachers.
She saw him as soon as she rounded an armored van. Warren in full SWAT gear, his dark hair hidden beneath a helmet, talking to a man in plain clothes. Without even thinking, she stepped forward, meaning to go to him.
“Miss, you’ll have to stay behind the blue barricades.” Another officer stepped forward, one she’d never met before. He was wearing the standard uniform of the Greenbriar Police Department. “No one is allowed past. Not even press.”
She stared at the man, wanting to tell him she wasn’t there to take photos, but the large camera she was holding would make her look like even more of a fool than she already was. A glance to her left revealed that another SWAT officer had joined Warren and the other man.
“Is there—is there really a bomb in there?” she asked, her face drawing tight.
“I can’t say. The team is about to go in to do a sweep. You’ll need to stay back.”
She resisted the urge to call out to Warren. The team was about to go in. That meant he was about to enter the building, to risk his life. What if there was really a bomb? What if—
“Beatrice.” He was walking toward her, his usual scowl turning down the corners of his mouth, Kevlar rasping and boots clomping as he came. He looked so severe like this. Nothing like the man whose body she had worshiped last week. And still, her heart did a little squeeze when she heard him say her name.
“Davis. You boys heading in now?” This from the officer that had told Beatrice to stay back.
“Yeah.” Warren nodded to her. “This could be dangerous. I know you’ve got a job to do, but—stay safe, okay? I’ll see you in a few minutes.” And then he turned and walked away, the other SWAT officer falling into step beside him, both of them yanking a mask over their nose and mouth.
She could only gape after him, wanting to tell him not to go, but knowing such a thing would be ridiculous. She watched as he walked across the front drive, under the large patio at the entrance of the high school, and finally disappeared inside. Only then did she bring her camera back up and continue snapping photos, capturing the tense atmosphere along the barricade, so many pairs of eyes focused on the glass doors at the front of the school.
After several long, difficult minutes, a voice came over the receiver strapped to the
officer’s shoulder. Warren’s voice. “Main building sweep complete. Nothing found. Heading to the fieldhouse. Over.”
She let out a heavy breath, watching as two figures appeared again at the front door of the school and began rounding the corner, where the fieldhouse sat at an angle behind the main building. It was probably an empty threat, thank God. Some kid pulling a terrible, misguided prank that caused a serious disruption and all this worry in her heart.
But right before they reached the side of the brick building, both Warren and his partner stopped, frozen. The two men turned, throwing up their hands in some strange signal and sprinting back toward the barricade as a whirring sound reached her ears, and the entire row of press and police started scrambling farther back, to take cover behind the line of cars, everyone dropping low in such fluid, well-rehearsed movements it almost seemed choreographed.
Everyone, that was, except for Beatrice. She couldn’t look away from Warren as he came barreling toward her, even as the whirring sound turned into a high-pitched whine and something started rumbling. She kept her gaze trained on him, in fact, until he slammed into her, dropping her to the ground and covering her body with his as the doors of the fieldhouse slammed outward with a loud boom!
* * * * *
It hadn’t been as serious as it seemed, thank God. There was relatively little debris, and apart from superficial damage in the main hall and façade of the fieldhouse, not as significant an amount destruction as there might have been had the homemade explosive been even a little bit larger.
But that didn’t give him much comfort as Warren thought about how afraid he had been when he’d seen Beatrice standing there, poised as if she were about to hurl herself directly into the danger’s path. He’d never run so fast in his life, not to get away from the explosion, but to get to her.
He’d never forget how afraid he’d been then.
And he’d never forget how, as soon as the noise died down, her arms had gone up around his body, her voice had sighed his name and her mouth had pressed against his. He’d had to practically pry her off of him so he could stand up and finish doing his job.
She’d make a terrible officer’s wife.
The thought jarred him, and he paused in the middle of the lawn by the fieldhouse, blinking as though he couldn’t figure out why there were scraps of paper littering the grass and two big hunks of twisted metal lying on the ground on the sidewalk.
He shook it off. It was ridiculous, thinking something like that. He thought a week apart would help him gain perspective, but it was only making him crazier for her. He kept thinking of ways to make more time for her in his life, and then he’d have to immediately remind himself not to forget the way Jen had left him as soon as things got tougher for him. Maybe things were easier now, but if another emergency happened, he wasn’t completely confident that Beatrice would understand. Could he count on her to jump in and help or would she walk away like Jen had?
And if she left…he wouldn’t survive it.
He had to remember that a life like his didn’t have room for a wife, and even less for a wife like Beatrice. He didn’t have time for things like soft kisses and massive orgasms and cherished hugs and kids with big brown eyes and—
“Hey, Davis.” Brewer approached. “Go talk to your woman. She looks scared shitless.”
Warren scowled. “She’s not my woman. I’ve already told you—”
“You don’t have time for a relationship,” Brewer finished for him. “Yeah, I heard that bit. And yet you were making out with her in front of the entire fucking department right after a bomb went off, Davis. I don’t know what was a bigger surprise—the explosive or you sucking face with Beatrice.” He gave a little snort. “Whatever. Go talk to her before she has a total breakdown.”
Brewer stomped off, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like stubborn bastard.
Warren tensed. What was that supposed to mean? The barrage of stuff that had just come out of Brewer’s mouth was too much to deal with right now, so he focused on the one thing he actually wanted, turning without another word to head to the edge of the fields, where Beatrice was nearly lying prone, taking photos of the fieldhouse at an angle upward from the ground. He reached her as she was scrambling to her knees, trying to stand up, and an image flashed in his mind—a dirty, hot vision of Beatrice kneeling in front of him, reaching out to open his pants, taking out his dick and licking the length of it while the rest of him remained encased in this sweltering, heavy protective gear.
He was an awful person.
He reached out a hand to help her up the rest of the way. “You need to go home.”
The hurt in her eyes was obvious. Warren scowled. Was she hurt because he hadn’t said hello? Or was it because he was ordering her around? Or—was it possibly because she felt the same way about him as he did about her—that she didn’t want to let him out of her sight?
She had kissed him in front of the entire department after a bomb went off, as Brewer pointed out.
And yet, that was exactly why he was trying to send her home. He couldn’t concentrate with her hovering around, and it made him do stupid things like trick himself into believing he could really manage something more than a transactional relationship with her.
She looked down at her feet and it made him feel like the world’s biggest ass. He softened his voice and reached out to rub her shoulder. “You’ve got enough photos by now, right? Even if this makes front page news in every paper in the state, you’ll probably have a hard time choosing the best pictures from what you’ve already got. You could build an entire exhibit from these.” He gave a slight smile. “Besides, I don’t want you to exhaust yourself before tonight.”
Her eyes came up at that, wide and questioning. “You’re still coming?”
She actually sounded hopeful.
“I was considering it. I mean, I might be a little late, since I have to finish up here…” He shrugged, dropping the small smile and trying to look like it didn’t matter either way, but he felt the relief coursing through him when she nodded, then snapped the cover on her lens and slid the camera back in her bag.
“You sure?”
“What, like I’m going to let a little explosion hold me back?”
She smiled at that, and he felt like a hero. “In that case, come whenever you can. I’ll wait for you.”
Chapter Sixteen
It was past nine o’clock when he finally showed up. Beatrice had been wearing a cute teddy she’d gotten on sale at a big lingerie chain, but at eight thirty, she’d finally changed into a more comfortable tank top and shorts, not certain when Warren would actually get there.
That he’d come eventually wasn’t a question. If there was one thing she had learned about him in these past few weeks, it was that he did what he said he was going to do. And despite whatever awkwardness had been left between them after last week, she couldn’t bother dwelling on it. She’d been so afraid today. It had made her realize their time together was too short not to cherish every minute.
Even if he was being a stubborn bastard.
She sprang up immediately when the soft knock sounded on her door, and she practically ripped it open to find him wearing street clothes, looking haggard and smelling of antiseptic soap. He gave her an apologetic shrug. “They made me go to the hospital after you left. Brewer told the captain that I was feeling faint. Fucker.”
She couldn’t contain her laugh as she beckoned him inside, and he stole a smiling kiss as he crossed the threshold into her apartment. She shut the door behind him and took his hand in hers.
“Are you sure you want to be here? We can always postpone to next week.”
She’d meant to be solicitous, but Warren’s face changed, the smile dropping, and he said tersely, “I can’t push it out. I know you need the money, but I can’t keep this up for longer than we agreed upon. It
’s eating into my schedule too much as it is.”
Her mood fell then too, and she released his hand to cross her arms, feeling like a stupid little fool. What had happened today…it made her think things had changed between them. She’d thought it meant something special now, these Wednesday visits. She’d already given up on the money, even if they hadn’t talked about it.
But apparently what had happened earlier hadn’t meant the same thing to him that it did to her. She looked away, trying to keep her voice calm and businesslike. “I’m sorry to hear it has become an inconvenience. I don’t mind if you would prefer to call off this deal. Adding one more item to your list of obligations has the exact opposite effect of what our agreement was supposed to do, you know. After last week…” She trailed off, then dropped her voice to a whisper. “Actually, after the first time I kissed you, I wasn’t expecting you to pay me anymore, anyway.”
He took a step forward. “I wasn’t trying to say that you were an inconvenience. That’s not what I meant. I—wait. Did you just say you didn’t expect me to give you the money? Like I would stiff you at the end of this? I pay my debts, Beatrice.”
Oh God. She could feel the press of tears behind her eyes. He really had no clue. And she felt like a fool. She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.” Her voice was wobbly, but she soldiered on. “I meant I no longer wanted your money.”
The last word came out as a merely a shape of her lips. She still didn’t look at him after that, just reached for the door handle again, meaning to let him out, but he reached one arm up, holding the door closed, while the other grabbed her around her waist and pulled her toward him. “Why don’t you want my money anymore?” His lips landed on her temple, a light kiss, and she trembled.
“I thought, after this afternoon…” Goodness, this was hard to admit. “I thought we were about more than that. You protected me. You kissed me in front of everybody. I can find other ways to get the money for Nana’s debt. I’d rather—” She took a deep breath and looked up at him. “I’d rather have you.”