Trace Evidence in Tarrant...

by Delores Fossen

  Okay, so she noticed.

  But Carley ignored it.

  Because a man's hot body was minor compared to getting a break in this case.

  "There might be a paper trail for the money that Donna intended to pay Lou Ann," she proudly announced. "And the timing of that trail could help nail Leland Hendricks."

  "Yes. I just realized that, too. I was about to get dressed and come up to tell you."

  Oh.

  Well, that put a damper on her elation.

  "You said we were going to work together when going over these papers," Carley challenged.

  He lifted his eyebrow to indicate she hadn't exactly followed that rule either.

  "Point taken," she grumbled. But she quickly dismissed her dampered excitement. "I can get a search warrant for all of Donna's financial records."

  "Zane can get one faster. I just left a message for him on his cell phone." He shut the door, reached out and adjusted her robe.

  Only then did Carley realize that a great deal of her right breast was exposed. Nipple and all.

  Sheez.

  Judging from the sudden tightness in Sloan's jaw and the fire she saw in those blue eyes, it'd had an effect on him, too. Not good. She hadn't subconsciously come here to get hot and bothered.

  Honestly.

  And she meant it.

  Really.

  "Sorry," she said. "I've been so obsessed with other things that I still haven't done laundry."

  The tightness in his jaw got worse. "Does that mean you're not wearing panties, either?"

  Because the inflection in his voice didn't change, it took a moment for that to sink in. And, boy, did it sink in. It was a massive understatement, but Carley was beginning to regret this visit.

  "I have on panties," she snarled. "And you need to get your mind back on business. For starters, how about putting on a shirt?"

  That seemed to amuse him or something. His mouth quivered, threatening a smile. Still, he strolled across the room, took the white shirt that'd been draped over the back of a chair and eased it on. What he didn't do was button it.

  Great.

  Somehow that made him look hotter than being totally shirtless. The open fabric only accentuated his washboard abs. Before she could suppress the thought, she wondered how it might feel to run her fingers over his…

  "How soon can you start bugging Zane about getting that search warrant?" she asked, interrupting that thought because it desperately needed interrupting.

  He seemed a little puzzled with her brusque tone. "I was going to call him again in about ten minutes."

  Good. They were on the same page of urgency. But maybe they weren't on the same page for other things, like this crazy attraction. She could only wish that Sloan was saner about this than she was.

  Again Carley forced herself to stay focused on the case. "I just hope that, after all this time, Donna hasn't been able to hide the trail."

  He shrugged, though his eyes conveyed no such casualness. He was staring at her. "That's not an easy thing to hide. I'm going to ask Zane to have that search warrant cover Rosa Ramirez's records, as well."

  Surprised, Carley stared at him. "You don't think she gave Donna that kind of money?"

  "No. If Rosa had bucks like that, she probably wouldn't have been working for Leland Hendricks. But maybe Donna used Rosa to try to cover her tracks. A sort of money filtering through Rosa's accounts. We might have to do a lot of digging to get to the source of that cash, especially if Donna is our killer and took extreme measures to cover up what she was doing."

  And there was no doubt about it—a killer would take those kinds of measures. "Still, it's a chance to get some concrete evidence, and we're seriously lacking that."

  "We're closer than you might think. After all, someone is trying to eliminate you, and my gut tells me that it's related to the case. That means we must be getting close, and someone is terrified of that."

  Carley nodded. It was true, but it wasn't much comfort. Still, thinking about this was far better than the alternative. It got her mind off his shirtless status and his abs. Unfortunately her mind went straight to the other topic she'd been trying not to think about: the attempts to end her life.

  "Just how little sleep are you getting at night?" Sloan asked.

  She frowned, not pleased that he'd apparently picked up on some body language that she hadn't wanted to convey. "I rarely sleep well when I'm this involved in a case."

  He blew out a weary breath. "And I suspect that's especially true after everything else that's happened. I would recommend that you go on a vacation—"

  "Forget it."

  "That's why I won't recommend it. So the next thing I won't recommend is that you try to relax."

  "How?" But Carley tried to wave off her question when she realized how it might have sounded.

  And it just might have sounded suggestive.

  "You could relax by reminding yourself that you're not going to do anything stupid, like setting yourself up as bait again," Sloan suggested. "You're going to keep at this investigation until the person is caught. In other words, you're already doing everything you can do. And you'll let me help you do the rest."

  It was reassuring. Why? Because it was coming from Sloan. And that set off loud alarms in her head.

  "I shouldn't have come here to your room," she mumbled.

  "You got caught up in the excitement of the case." Another breath. This one was short and tense. "You forgot that I was a man."

  The room suddenly got warmer. A lot warmer. And why had the air simply vanished? There definitely wasn't enough air in her lungs.

  "I could never forget that you're a man. What I forgot about was the strength of this attraction," she corrected.

  This time his breath seemed to stop. "You're admitting that?"

  "It would seem stupid not to admit it. Though, in hindsight, I wish I hadn't," she added when she noted the change in him. Heat sizzled through his eyes, and she could see the muscles in his chest and stomach flicker.

  Carley had to do some backpedaling. Fast.

  "I think the only reason I want you is because of that whole forbidden-fruit thing," she commented after she cleared her throat.

  He shook his head. "Now I'm fruit?"

  Carley nodded. And she kept a straight face. "The forbidden kind."

  Though some of the puzzlement returned, it didn't soften his expression. In fact, nothing about him seemed to be softening. She, on the other hand, couldn't say the same. Her body seemed to be doing just that—softening. It was preparing itself for something it wasn't going to get.

  It wasn't going to get Sloan McKinney.

  He took a step toward her, reached and skimmed his finger down her cheek. "And what about when you were a teenager? I wasn't forbidden fruit then."

  Because her body seemed to be making yet more preparations, she stepped away from his skimming finger, which seemed to have the ability to ignite all her erogenous zones with one single stroke.

  "That doesn't count," she managed to say. "And it doesn't count now. In addition to forbidden fruit, you're an adrenaline reaction. That's it. Nothing more. A reaction to danger." She frowned when he smiled. "Hey, it's better than your Science Channel DNA explanation."

  Sloan retraced that step toward her. His shirt shifted, sliding against his bare skin. She could hear it.

  Heck, she could feel it.

  "In just a couple of seconds I'm going to kiss you," he announced. "If it'll make you feel better, you can act surprised."

  Carley swallowed hard and slapped her hand on his chest. "There's no need to act surprised, because it's not going to happen. Think this through, Sloan. You're still my boss. I'm not having sex with my boss."

  "Carley, no one said anything about having sex." His voice dropped to that low, sexy drawl that was an aphrodisiac in itself.

  "Kissing leads to sex eventually. In our case, eventually wouldn't be long at all. Minutes. Heck, who am I kidding? It'd lead to sex in seconds.
And if someone were to find out, it'd hurt your career and it'd ruin any chances I have of becoming a Ranger."

  "You're right, of course." Sloan reached out, skimmed his thumb over her bottom lip, sending a hot shiver through her. "But then, no one has to find out, do they?"

  No, they didn't.

  But Carley knew that was rationalizing.

  "You and I would know," she pointed out.

  He nodded. "If we do it right, yes, we'll know. That's the way a good kiss works."

  She laughed. Not from humor. Definitely not. But from nerves that were already too close to the surface. "Why does that suddenly seem so tempting that I'm not sure I want to resist?" she asked, only partly sarcastic. "Oh. I know why." She tried to put some steel in her voice. "Because I've lost my mind, that's why."

  "You haven't lost your mind, Carley. I've lost mine." And with that, he dipped his head and kissed her.

  Until his mouth touched hers, Carley had been prepared to argue, to step away, to leave. But that kiss—wow, that kiss. It changed everything. Sloan was very good at it, and she went from thinking about that argument to thinking about nothing else but him.

  Carley didn't resist when he hooked his arm around her waist and eased her closer to him. Nope. Nor did she resist when he cupped her neck with the palm of his hand. Or when his body pressed against hers. Ditto on a no-protest reaction when Sloan deepened the kiss and turned it into long, slow and French.

  In fact, Carley did the opposite of resisting.

  She lifted her arms. First one. Then the other. And she put them around him. She let the silky heat slide through her body. She let the kiss consume her. Not that it was difficult for that to happen. Oh, no. Sloan had a way of monopolizing time, space and thought with his mouth.

  He tasted the way he smelled. Not specifically like his manly aftershave, but there it was again—summer picnics, the woods. And sex.

  Definitely the sex.

  The feel of his body pushing against her had a unique way of making her dwell on the sex, too. Probably because that's exactly what she wanted from him—sex—and her body was starting to clamor that it wanted it now.

  She'd been right and wrong about the kiss. The right part was because she'd said it could lead to sex within minutes. Seconds, even. But she'd been wrong about the intensity. Of course, nothing could have prepared her for that.

  Carley let him claim her mouth while she took every ounce of pleasure from him. They fit together. Her soft breasts against his hard chest. The sensation against her bare skin shocked her for a moment. Then she realized her robe had come open, and with his already opened shirt, his chest hair was tickling her nipples. She'd never considered just how pleasurable that would feel, but she considered it now.

  Better yet, she savored it.

  Sloan eased back a bit and slid his hand between them. Specifically he slid his hand over her right breast. Yet more pleasure. But the slight shift in their positions allowed her to make eye contact. In the swirls of all that blue fire, she could see the struggle he was having with himself.

  Oh, yes.

  Definitely a struggle.

  It was a struggle that Carley figured she should be having, as well. Because the arguments were still there. He was her boss. This could cause them to lose focus. But the most important reason of all was because she wasn't willing to risk her heart. Not like this.

  Not to Sloan.

  Even if by some miracle they could get beyond their past, their futures and their destinies were not on the same course. When this case was solved, he'd leave Justice, and kisses and sex would be long forgotten.

  At least on his part.

  Carley didn't think she would forget any of this, ever.

  She fought her way through the thick, sensual haze. Through the pleasure that his kisses and touches were giving her. And she had to fight hard. She had to override all those primal instincts that were telling her it was time to give herself to this man.

  "If we keep this up," she said, her breath thin and choppy, "we'll do something both of us will regret—we'll have sex. I really have to get out of here."

  Carley backed up her insistence with some real action. She stepped back, closed her robe and tightened the sash. While she was on a sanity-saving, career-salvaging roll, she grabbed her copies of Lou Ann's papers and rushed out the door.

  She had to put some space between Sloan and her. She had to think. And Carley figured when she was done with that thinking she'd be glad that she'd ended that kiss before things got carried away.

  But she wasn't glad about it now.

  No.

  Her body was begging her to go back and take everything that Sloan McKinney was offering. And judging from those kisses, he could offer a lot.

  Carley actually stopped halfway down the hall. Stopped. Cursed. Pleaded with herself to do the right thing. And the right thing was to return to her apartment. Somehow she mustered enough willpower to get her feet moving again.

  It was too little, too late.

  She heard the movement behind her, turned and saw a very determined-looking Sloan storming right for her.

  Chapter Nine

  Sloan only had a ten-second debate with himself before he grabbed his holster and went after Carley. He knew, depending on how this played out, it could be one of the best ideas he'd ever had.

  Or the absolute worst.

  Still, he had to risk it. Because it didn't matter what was or wasn't happening between them personally, he still had a job to do.

  Carley was part of that job.

  A big part. He didn't want anyone taking another shot at her. In addition to the obvious danger of something like that, it would pretty much destroy what little peace of mind she had left.

  He caught up with Carley in the hall not too far from his room, but judging from her deer-caught-in-headlights expression, she wasn't happy to see him.

  Well, he wasn't exactly happy with himself, either.

  Only minutes earlier he'd let a certain part of his body do his thinking for him and Sloan knew for a fact that part of him rarely made good decisions.

  "Oh, no." Carley shook her head and backed away from him. "Turn around and go back to your room. There'll be no more kissing."

  "No more kissing," he promised.

  He strapped on his waist holster and buttoned his shirt. It wouldn't look good if anyone were to see them. Especially since Carley was wearing only her bathrobe. He could perhaps justify one of them being half-dressed but not both of them.

  Though there was no way he'd be able to justify to anyone that just-kissed look of Carley's slightly swollen, damp mouth. Her face was still flushed with arousal.

  And Sloan reacted to her arousal.

  He felt that kick of lust and bit his bottom lip to stave it off. This was not the time for sex-against-the-wall thoughts about Carley.

  "No more kissing," he repeated, hoping that his body grasped the ultimatum he'd just given it.

  Carley ran her gaze down him from head to toe, and Sloan prayed that she wasn't disappointed with that ultimatum. Both of them had to stay rational here or they were going to lose this battle.

  "Then if you're not here to resume the kiss, what are you doing here in the hall?" she asked.

  He made a show of buttoning his shirt. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

  Carley cocked her head to the side. "Asking for more trouble?"

  "Perhaps." And heaven knows that was the truth. "But my number one motive is to make sure you get safely to your apartment."

  "You're serious?" Oh, she did sound skeptical.

  "As serious as my aunt Mary's quadruple bypass surgery."

  She obviously didn't care much for his attempt to add some humor to this powder keg of a situation. She huffed, and with the papers hugged against her chest, she put her other hand on her hip. "Think this through—do you really want the temptation of following me to my bedroom?"

  Sloan considered her lack of undergarments for a moment and then banished
the thought from his head. "No. But I want to make sure you get there in one piece and that you lock the door behind you."

  "Oh, I'll definitely arrive there in one piece since it's only one floor up. Hardly a long, dangerous trek behind enemy lines. And as soon as I'm there, I'll lock the door," she promised.

  "And I'll listen to you do it." She obviously didn't approve of that, either, because Sloan had to catch onto her arm to stop her from walking away from him. "Trust me, this isn't special treatment because you're a woman. Or because I still want to kiss you. Or even because I don't think you can take care of yourself. You can. But I'd do this for anyone who works with me."

  "So would I." She stayed quiet a moment. "But that means we're at a stalemate."

  "How do you figure that?"

  "Because after you've followed me to my apartment, I'll have to do what any good sheriff would do and then follow you back to your room to make sure all is well. If that happens, neither of us is going to get any sleep tonight."

  "You won't follow me," Sloan insisted. Because heaven knows he couldn't go through another round of being alone and close with Carley. His willpower was nothing but dust now. "You'll go to your apartment and get some rest. What you won't do is spend the night worrying or digging through Lou Ann's papers."

  The corner of her mouth lifted. "Does that mean you won't dig through them, either?"

  Of course he would.

  She would do the same.

  Sloan smiled.

  But his smile was short-lived.

  Sloan's hand shot up in the air to cut off anything else she was about to say. But his hand alert wasn't necessary because Carley went dead quiet. She'd obviously heard the small, soft sound, as well. It had come from around the corner at the end of the hall.

  Normally such a sound wouldn't have caused him to go on full alert, but then, there was nothing normal about this situation.

  "Another guest?" he mouthed.

  "Maybe. But I think there's only one other person staying on this floor."

  So it was possible those were the legitimate footsteps of someone who had a right to be there. Still…