Hot Knights

by Rue Allyn

  An electric current of unspoken wants and desires buzzed in the air between them. That tiny part of her still wanted to see him again, and the black depths of his eyes echoed the same sentiment.

  She had to end this here. Before she opened her big mouth and set herself on a path to destruction by asking him exactly that.

  “It’s okay.” She shook her head. “You don’t have to walk me up.”

  A smile touched the corners of his mouth, and he quirked a brow in challenge. “Are you that anxious to get rid of me?”

  She sighed. Why did this have to be so hard? It was one night, with a stranger. Wasn’t it supposed to be easy? “This is just so . . . ” She paused and shook her head, at a loss to say more.

  “Awkward.” He nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

  She laid a hand against his chest; his warmth radiated against her fingers. “I don’t want it to follow us upstairs. I’d rather remember you exactly the way I met you.”

  His eyes narrowed, playful. “Dark and dangerous?”

  She let out a soft laugh, half from sheer nerves, half from relief. “Something like that.”

  He’d given her something intangible, something more valuable than money. Immersed in nothing but him, without a care in the world, she’d been free from the fear and shame that had ruled most of her life. While she loathed relinquishing that feeling, she also knew she couldn’t let it go any further.

  Michael, however, was nothing if not persistent. With a determined glint in his eye that dared her not to let him play the gentleman, he slipped his hand into hers. With a gentle tug on her arm, he moved onto the sidewalk and eyed the building. “So, where are you?”

  “Right here.” With a defeated sigh, she nodded at the dark wooden stairwell in front of them. “Second floor.”

  Their fingers still linked, he followed a step behind as she made her way up the stairs. Once again, silence reigned supreme, making her wonder what he thought. Did he feel the same awkwardness that twisted her stomach?

  At the top of the landing, she turned to look at him, her heart fluttering in her chest when he stepped up with her. Towering over her, desire flared in his eyes, sending new shivers along her spine. In one long stride, he closed the distance between them, his hands seizing her waist. He tugged her flush against him, but the playfulness in his touch melted into something softer, more intense and needy, the instant their bodies met.

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “You didn’t think I’d let you get away from me that easily, now did you?”

  The quiet possessiveness in those words, the wistfulness in his voice, filled her chest with a torrent of confusing emotions. Slowly throughout the night, the dark and mysterious façade had come down. She’d gotten a glimpse of this man’s heart and liked what she’d seen. He was better than the fantasy.

  Here, in his arms, she had the oddest sense of rightness. And his eyes . . . his eyes spoke to her, connected to some part of her, deep inside. Last night those sensations made for something incredible. Michael had taken her to heights she hadn’t even known were possible.

  In the harsh light of day, they scared her to death. She didn’t want to see he was just a man, didn’t want to see his flaws, because she couldn’t chance he’d turn out like Nick. A playboy who only wanted to toy with her heart.

  The thoughts flitted away as he leaned his head down and nipped at the curve of her neck. One hand slid inside his jacket she wore, his touch, light and tantalizing, skimmed the side of her breast, and she couldn’t contain the gasp that escaped. The tips of his fingers caressed her skin as he moved the collar aside, taking the strap of her top with it. He placed a soft kiss to her shoulder before straightening.

  He fingered the lapel of his jacket. “I’m afraid I’ll need this back.”

  “Darn. And here I thought you’d let me keep it as a souvenir.” She narrowed her eyes and jokingly clutched the lapels closed.

  “I don’t think so.” He let out a soft laugh and shook his head.

  He stepped back to give her room. She lowered her gaze and fingered the lapels before bringing them to her nose and inhaling. As she finally let the soft leather slide from her shoulders, a pang of remorse twisted through her stomach. She didn’t want to let it go.

  “It smells like you.” Like leather, soap, and fresh air.

  “I’d imagine so.”

  As she handed him his jacket, their fingers brushed, stilled, connected for the span of a heartbeat, before she finally pulled them back.

  “Good-bye, Michael.” Simple and effective, yet the words didn’t seem nearly enough.

  His expression sober again, he cupped her chin in his palm and idly stroked his thumb over her skin. “Good-bye, Cat.”

  He dropped his hand and slung his jacket over his shoulder, then turned and walked away, his gait slow and casual.

  She leaned back against her apartment door and watched until he disappeared from sight at the bottom of the stairwell. When his engine roared to life, her chest constricted at the finality and irony of his exit from her life. He was gone the same way he’d entered—quiet and unassuming yet powerful all the same.

  With a sigh, she turned and pushed her apartment door open. She only needed to change into fresh clothing, then she was headed to her father’s shop. Her father had opened a small bookstore some twenty years ago. After their marriage ten years ago, he and her stepmother, Judy, ran the place together. It was a small, eclectic place, selling new and used books, and had become a landmark on Main Street.

  Two years ago, tragedy struck their small family when her stepmother died of an aggressive form of cervical cancer. Since then, Cat had taken to helping her father in the shop on the weekends. Now that she’d quit working for Nick, she’d help her father full-time until she found another job.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you’re home early.”

  Two steps inside her apartment, Cat halted, turning toward the sound of the voice. Lisa sat at the kitchen table ten feet in front of her, her eyes searching Cat’s like a worried mother who waited all night for her errant daughter to come home.

  “Didn’t you get my message?” Cat moved into the apartment toward the coffeemaker. Despite having already had breakfast, the smell of the fresh brew still lured her. “I called your phone last night. I tried to find you, but you disappeared.”

  “I did, but I figured, given your message, you probably haven’t seen the paper yet.” Lisa surged to her feet and crossed the kitchen, shoving the newspaper at her. “You and Michael made it onto the front page.”

  A hard knot of dread formed in her stomach. Cat set her coffee aside and reached out to take the paper. The Weekly Tribune called itself a newspaper but could more accurately be described as a gossip rag. It tended to showcase the local rumors, the who’s who and who’s doing what of their small town rather than actual world news. The woman who ran it was sweet and simply loved the town and the people in it, but she was a little too nosy for her own good. By the look on Lisa’s face, Cat had a feeling she didn’t want to know what she was about to read.

  One glance at the front page and Cat clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God.”

  The headline read, “The Prodigal Son Returns,” but the picture beneath had acid rising up the back of her throat. It was a sidelong view of her and Michael as they stood at the beach, just after he’d dunked her in the water. Their arms were wrapped around each other. The picture had been taken with a close-up lens, so the faces were clear, despite the darkness, and they were very obviously kissing. An intimate moment captured on film.

  Cat growled low in her throat, unable to stop the emotions that rose over her. “You know, this really pisses me off. They’re invading my privacy, as well as his. Who do they think they are to post something like this in the morning paper? This is the exact kind of thing I’d hoped to avoid since I came back to town and half the reason I left years ago.” She moved to the couch in the living room and sat down, an eerie sense of invasion crawling up her spine. Ca
t shook her head and glanced at Lisa. “But you know, I find this really disturbing, Lisa. There was no one else out on that beach with us. It’s private property and the neighborhood around us was quiet and dark. No flash went off.”

  “It means someone was spying on you.” Lisa furrowed her brow, the same sense of worry currently knotting Cat’s stomach creeping into her eyes. She reclaimed her seat at the table and looped her hands around her own coffee mug. “Who the hell skulks around in the bushes to take pictures of the two of you?”

  Cat nodded. “Exactly. Who the hell does that?”

  The shrill of the phone interrupted, and Cat stretched to reach the cordless receiver on the coffee table in front of her. “Hello?”

  Silence rang over the line.

  “Hello?” Cat called again, but again only silence echoed back at her. She punched the “end” button and set the phone on the couch beside her.

  “Who was that?” Lisa lifted her gaze from the paper.

  Cat turned her head and shrugged. “Don’t know. They didn’t say anything.” Taking a sip of her coffee, the phone rang again. Cat picked it up. “Hello?”

  More eerie silence echoed back at her. Irritated, she hung up.

  “Nobody again?” Lisa flipped the newspaper page.

  Cat nodded. “Prank calls, I guess.”

  When the phone rang a third time, the caller ID on the display window once again flashed “number unavailable.” Cat snatched up the receiver, her voice less than friendly. “I’m getting really tired of this game.”

  This time breathing echoed across the line, low but distinct, and a cold shiver raced down her spine. Unnerved, she punched the “end” button and tossed the phone to the other side of the couch. She turned to Lisa. “Well, that was nice and creepy.”

  Lisa quirked a blond brow. “What did they say?”

  Cat shook her head. “Nothing. Just somebody breathing.”

  Lisa shrugged. “Probably just a kid.”

  Cat nodded, but unease settled in her stomach. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d gotten prank calls. Around Halloween, the tricksters all came out to play. She’d never gotten this kind, though. She couldn’t help notice the seemingly coincidental timing, either. Michael’s appearance in her life. The photos in the newspaper, which occurred during a time when she was sure they were alone. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s all it is.”

  • • •

  The steady cadence of his boots hitting the tiled floor echoed off the walls as Michael made his way down the hospital corridor. The place was eerily silent, the only sound coming from the hushed conversations of the occasional personnel he passed. He focused on his destination, tried to keep his mind set on what he came to do, but each step wrenched the knot in his stomach a little tighter.

  Upon reaching the last door at the end of the hall, he paused. As his eyes traced the metal numbers adorning the wooden structure, he drew in a deep breath. This day had been ten years in the making. If he were lucky, the brush with death had calmed his father a bit. Maybe the old man had forgotten, and they could finally move on.

  Yeah, and maybe pigs would fly south for the winter.

  Deciding he couldn’t put it off any longer, he reached for the brass handle, but the door opened before he made contact. Gabe’s form filled the doorway, and dark eyes that had been moving in search of something settled on Michael.

  He couldn’t resist the sigh of relief at the small reprieve.

  “’Bout damn time you got here.” One corner of his brother’s mouth hitched as he stepped through the door and let it fall closed behind him. “Dad can harp on you for a change.”

  Michael couldn’t help the wry chuckle that escaped him. At least he wasn’t his father’s only victim. “How are Lilly and the girls?”

  His older brother had done everything right according to their father’s plan. He married his college sweetheart five years ago and had two daughters. He’d also followed in their father’s footsteps. Gabe normally ran management between the hotels as well as kept tabs on the bar in town. With Lilly currently eight months pregnant with their third child, however, Gabe chose to stick to the bar.

  “Ah, they’re good.” A proud smile spread across his brother’s face. He sobered a moment later and cuffed his shoulder. “You were supposed to stop by the bar last night. What happened?”

  What happened? Bright green eyes and a shy smile. He lingered for a moment in the memories. The way his hands molded perfectly to her sleek, feminine curves. Her warm, creamy skin, slick with perspiration, sliding against his. Her subtle, exotic scent had either imbedded in his mind or in his jacket, because he swore he still smelled her.

  He refocused on his brother and gave a nonchalant shrug. “I got a bit distracted.”

  “Must’ve been cute if she caught your attention.” Gabe winked, but a heartbeat later, his playful smile melted into a pity-filled frown. “Hope she was worth it, though, man, ’cause you’re about to catch hell for it. Dad’s not a happy camper.”

  Was she worth it? The answer slid into his mind barely a breath later. Even if he never saw her again, Cat had given him something he hadn’t had in ten years—a night of peace. Peace from the memories that haunted him and the guilt that followed him wherever he went. Peace from the oppressive weight of being who he was. For one night, he was simply a man, and he’d be forever grateful to her for that.

  “Yeah.” Michael couldn’t resist the smile. “She was definitely worth it.”

  “You plan to see her again?” Gabe folded his arms across his chest.

  Michael’s shoulders slumped with the force of the emotion that grabbed him. Of all the questions, Gabe asked the one that weighed the heaviest on his mind. He couldn’t believe how hard it had been to leave Cat an hour before. Did he want to see her again? With every ounce of his being. The woman piqued his curiosity and stirred his desire like no other. Would he see her again?

  “No.” He didn’t get involved with women from this damn town.

  “You can’t stay single forever, you know. It’s been ten years, man.” Gabe gave a slow shake of his head. “You have to let it go.”

  His brother referred, of course, to that awful night. The exact reason he left town in the first place. Ten years ago, on the Fourth of July, a jealous ex-girlfriend murdered his best friend in front of him, then turned the gun on herself, killing her unborn child in the process. The gruesome images were burned into his brain.

  Michael heaved a sigh and raked a hand through his hair.

  “Unfortunately, that’s easier said than done.” He closed his eyes, the memories rising like acid. The gun, the bodies, the blood. “I can’t stop seeing Kaylee hit the ground and wondering if I could have done something to stop it.”

  The nightmare repeated like a broken record, over and over. It haunted his sleep, and every time he saw that night, the guilt weighed on him like an anchor.

  “Well, you came home. That’s a start.” Gabe settled a brotherly arm around his shoulders in a quick, familiar hug that reminded him of all the years growing up. Michael opened his eyes and smiled his thanks. His brother always had his back. “You should go see Taylor. He’s asked about you.”

  Taylor Johnson. Kaylee’s older brother and the one person he needed to see but hadn’t yet had the courage to face. It was another conversation ten years in the making. Gabe was right. He owed it to their family.

  Gabe released him and stepped back. “I should warn you. With me taking leave from the hotels until after Lilly has the baby and his setback, Dad’s chomping at the bit to find someone to fill my position until I get back. Three guesses who he has in mind.”

  Michael shook his head. “Sorry, but he can keep on looking. I’ve got my own shop to run. I know darn well it’s just his way of trying to reel me in.”

  The thought of running the hotels wasn’t what bothered him. Oh, sure, he hated wearing monkey suits. Give him a comfortable pair of jeans over a tie any day. Bliss was being elbows deep in an engine an
d covered in grease. But he could work the hotels if he had to.

  It was the principal of it that got to him. Growing up, his father always seemed to be trying to mold him into something he wasn’t. Michael had built something all on his own, and he was proud of it. He wanted his father to be proud of him, to see his shop in L.A. as the accomplishment it was, but Dad only seemed to see that his youngest son hadn’t come into the family business. From his father’s point of view, Michael turned his back on his family.

  Gabe clapped his shoulder. “Well, good luck then. Dad won’t be happy to hear it.”

  “Is he ever happy with me?” Michael gave a miserable shake of his head and shoved the door open, steeling himself for what was to come. Two steps in, he halted dead in his tracks. A sense of mortality—his own as well as his father’s—grabbed him by the throat. Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this.

  The old man sitting up in bed looked nothing like the father he’d known his entire life. His father had aged over the last two years. Dark, almost black hair had turned gray. His skin was paler, his eyes more sunken and rimmed with shadows. He was a lot more fragile under the baby blue, knitted blanket that covered his hips. Nothing at all like the strong, retired United States Marine who ran his family like a military platoon and expected every bit as much from them.

  It didn’t matter anymore what had gone between them. They needed to forgive and forget and move on. Too many years had passed in silence, and it had to end here. His mother was right—next time might be too late.

  Neatly trimmed gray brows came together as the coal eyes staring back at him narrowed. “You just couldn’t show up when promised, could you?”

  In other words, you screwed up again. Michael expelled a heavy breath and let his shoulders slump. If that wasn’t the story of his life.

  “Good to see you, too, Dad.” He shook his head as he moved farther into the room.

  His father wasn’t going to make this easy.

  • • •

  An hour later, Michael paced the same invisible line on the hospital floor, back and forth between two bright orange faux leather kitchen chairs that sat against the window. Eyes on the black and white checkered tiles, he clutched the keys in his right jean pocket until the metal bit into his hand. Only his respect for his father’s heart condition kept the slew of retorts currently sitting on his tongue from leaving his lips.