The smell of coffee and frying sausage hit her long before she reached the kitchen. In the doorway, she stopped and watched him, remembering all too well how they both enjoyed cooking.
Seeing him standing at the stove in his bare feet, wearing no shirt and a clean, faded pair of jeans that hugged him like a second skin, brought back a rush of memories that hit her like a fast-moving car. For a long moment, she couldn’t even catch her breath, it was so hard to believe that almost a year had passed between them. Wasn’t it just yesterday that she’d come down to find him cooking her breakfast just as he was now? And he was cooking sausages no less, her favorite breakfast food.
The radio was on, the announcer giving the morning news.
God, nothing at all had changed. Nothing. Not the room. Not the house. Not the rich, inviting smell of breakfast.
Not the man at the stove. The muscles of his broad shoulders rippled smoothly as he flipped the sausages frying in the skillet. His skin was tantalizingly smooth, tanned like soft leather. Erin knew how it would feel if she slid her palms across it. His dark hair was still rather long, covering his neck, appearing perhaps more wavy than before, and it still glistened wetly from his shower.
His legs were long and lean and muscular. Though she could see that he didn’t stand on them equally—he tended to lean more toward his right, keeping the weight off his left.
She also knew that simply living each moment with him, waiting for him to make her life safe again, would never be enough. Never.
Unable to look away, she wasn’t even aware that she moved closer. Closer. Close enough now that he was right before her. Close enough to catch the soft scent of the soap he’d used a short time before mixed with the masculine scent she recognized as only his. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him.
And even this didn’t seem close enough for her. Erin was drawn to him like a moth to flame. She wanted to touch him. Just touch him. To reach out and put her hand on the smooth warmth of his back, follow it with her cheek and then her lips to make sure that the tanned flesh was the same as she remembered.
And she would have done just that if Lee hadn’t turned around. His action was quick and smooth, but she was too close and the large spatula in his hand slapped right into her shoulder. His sudden move and her attempt to avoid the spatula sent her reeling off balance.
Just that quickly, Lee dropped the spatula and grabbed her, his strong hands grasping her shoulders in an effort to steady her.
Lee had known she was in the room. He had felt her watching him the moment she’d come down the stairs. He had felt the warmth of her, and the cold shower he’d taken had been just a waste of his time when it came to damping down the fires she stirred within him. He hadn’t realized she’d been so close. And to find her that close, the softness of her body beneath his fingers now, made him feel as though a giant fireball was coursing through him like a comet.
She was dressed in jeans and a soft pink T-shirt that stretched tautly across her breasts. The entire outfit outlined her curves, showing them off instead of hiding them as her suit of the day before had. She suddenly looked just like the girl he’d made love to in the guest house, no longer the career woman who had shown up at his door yesterday.
How long they stood like that—his hands on her shoulders, her hands grasping his arms in reaction, their heated gazes locked—he had no idea. All he knew was that if he moved mere inches, the rest of his body would be touching hers. Just inches, and their lips would touch, and he’d become a part of her. Just inches, and he’d taste that familiar, yet excitingly exotic taste of her that he’d missed for so long.
He suddenly wasn’t hungry for breakfast, for the sausages he told himself he was cooking because he liked them, not because she did. He was, however, starving. Starving for her.
Those few inches between them were crossed easily, without his even knowing whether he had crossed them or she had crossed them or they had met somewhere in the middle.
His lips touched hers lightly. A gentle brushing. Hardly a touch at all, like the touch of a feather. But the fire surged through him, leaving Lee hot and weak, wanting to pull her down to the floor with him. Leaving him wanting to crush her against him and explore every aspect of her, to make sure nothing about her had changed. Both of his legs threatened to give way under him.
She tasted so good. And he could feel his strength, his very will to survive, slipping away into the kiss, a kiss that very quickly reached into his soul....
Lee never knew where he got the strength. Perhaps it came from thinking her kiss would find his soul empty since she’d already ripped that part of him out. All he knew was that he gripped her arms tightly enough to leave bruises and tore himself away from her. It left him feeling as weak as the kiss itself had. His chest constricted; it hurt to breathe. Wanting her as he did caused the lower part of his belly to ache with unbearable need.
She stared up at him with uncertainty in her eyes. “What?” she asked.
As if she didn’t know, he thought. As if she thought she could just waltz back in here after all those painful months and take up where she’d left off. Trying to keep a semblance of composure, of self-control, and careful of his leg, he leaned down and picked up the spatula from the floor. “Breakfast is burning,” he snapped, turning away. He couldn’t look at that uncertain, even hurt expression in her eyes any longer.
Damn, he couldn’t believe he’d kissed her like that. How could he let his emotions drive him to do something so stupid? He’d almost let her all the way back into his innermost self again, a place he could never let her reach, never let her touch. He couldn’t let his passion get in the way of his job. He had to protect her at all costs. But he had to protect himself, too.
Lee could still feel Erin close behind him, as he absently flipped the burnt sausages. If he turned again, he’d bump into her again. He stared at the sausages, unable to look anywhere else, refusing to move. He was afraid if he looked at her, he wouldn’t have the willpower to fight off his wanting her.
He cleared his throat, trying to work past the lump that had lodged there. “They’ll be ready soon,” he muttered. “Do you want some eggs?” He felt his strength slowly returning. Concentrate on the cooking, he told himself. Then concentrate on the case, on protecting her. Forget about the past. It’s gone and it can’t be retrieved. Forget about the future, too. Any wishes regarding it were impossible.
“Sure,” she replied from just behind him.
She was so close he could feel the warmth of her breath touch his back. He fought down a shiver against it. He tried to ignore the heat of it. Think of the present, nothing else. Forget the past. He could do it, he determined. He really could, if he tried hard enough. He thought it was getting easier.
At least he thought it was until she said, “You were always the one who liked to cook breakfast for us.”
Lee had to close his eyes for a long moment as that single reminder ripped through him and wiped away any of his ability to concentrate on the present, “Thanks a lot for that reminder,” he murmured.
He took the sausages from the skillet and moved away from her to get the eggs from the refrigerator. Ignore her, he told himself again. Ignore the heat of her that seems to be hitting you from all angles. Just pretend she isn’t even here. Remember all the plans you made, all the things you thought about doing when the sun came up. Well, now it’s up. Put the plans into action and forget her. The only problem was, he suddenly couldn’t remember any of them.
So concentrate on the radio, he told himself, forcing his thoughts into something as trivial as beating the eggs. It wasn’t easy, but he tried, keeping his mind on the rest of the breakfast and listening to the news on the radio. The big stories of the morning were a major train derailment and the capture of a suspect in a recent homicide. But Lee’s ears perked up at the mention of the theft of a large painting in New York.
Erin left him to fix the breakfast and didn’t say any more. Lee knew he should feel
grateful that she was keeping quiet, but he didn’t. Somehow, having her acting as a guest didn’t seem to fit their situation any better than his treating her as though they were back together again and she was somehow part of his household.
He set two plates of food on the table and Erin sat down. He tried not to notice that of the four chairs surrounding the table, she was sitting in the chair that had been hers when they’d lived together.
“You never did answer my question about Kaffel,” Erin said, falling easily into the role of the stubborn reporter. “Do you hate him?”
“No, I don’t hate him,” Lee replied. “Neither do I trust him. It was his fault my witness was shot before he could testify.”
“That was a long time ago, Lee,” she reminded him.
Lee said nothing. He just took a big bite of his breakfast.
“So how do we go after Burke?” Erin asked when Lee refused to talk any further about Kaffel. She poured herself a glass of juice from the pitcher in front of her and pointedly kept her eyes averted from him.
Noticing how she was obviously avoiding him, he did his best not to glance her way. He took a bite of eggs, but breakfast suddenly seemed less appealing than a plate of sawdust.
“We don’t go after Burke,” he replied shortly after swallowing, then choosing his words.
Erin took a bite of sausage, ignoring the fact that it was blackened on one side. “You don’t expect me just to sit around here and wait for him to come after me, do you?” she asked.
“I expect you to sit around here, yes. But I don’t expect to let him come after you,” Lee returned.
She thought for a long moment. Lee could just imagine all the gears turning inside her head. “I can’t just twiddle my thumbs and wait. I’ll go crazy.”
“The idea is to keep you safe, remember? If that means staying here, slowly going crazy and pulling your hair out strand by strand, then that’s what you have to do, Erin. It’s my job to protect you, and you’re going to help me by doing whatever I say. Understand?”
“More than you know,” she replied.
More than he knew? he mentally questioned. Not hardly came his just-as-silent reply. He met her defiant sparkling gaze and tried to ignore the heat that rushed through him. How was he going to share this house with her and keep from giving in to his want for her?
Chapter 5
Lee carried a stack of clean towels into the upstairs bathroom—Erin’s bathroom. And the first thing that hit him was the scent of the soap she used. The second thing that stopped him was the sight of her things on the counter next to the sink. A few items of makeup, a hairbrush, deodorant and a toothbrush.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough to tell him she’d staked her claim. Lee supposed that if she had continued wearing sleek little professional suits, he’d be seeing panty hose hung about the place, too. He all but dropped the towels onto the counter before walking out.
They had spent the past day and a half living with one another in the same house and avoiding each other at the same time. They shared the quick meals he fixed. Their conversation was forced and remained on the topic of Burke or Doreli. Erin questioned him every time the phone rang. Was it news? No, there was no news. The FBI was still investigating, waiting for Burke to make a move, to give them a reason to grab him. He didn’t. So they couldn’t. And Doreli hadn’t been seen at all.
So Lee and Erin were forced to wait in a living arrangement that was slowly driving him out of his mind.
It seemed the only thing they had in common was wanting to find out more about Burke and watching the news, which they did together the night before. It was almost cozy, Lee thought, as they sat in his living room in front of the television, with Erin curled up on the sofa and Lee in the recliner with his legs propped up.
Just something more to remind him of those good old days they used to share.
Lee couldn’t avoid the pain in his leg, but he did what he could to avoid Erin. If she was in his office working at his computer, he stayed in the kitchen. If she was in the kitchen, he was upstairs exercising or reading or, as he was now, doing laundry. He had never in his life thought laundry was this important.
A few moments later, the rising aroma of frying hamburger drew him downstairs. There in the kitchen, he found her standing over the stove. His stove, he reminded himself.
“What are you doing?”
Erin turned at the sound of his voice and smiled.
Lee ignored the smile, the easy, comfortable look in the deep green of her eyes. At least, he tried to ignore it. As with everything about her for the past day and a half, he told himself he was ignoring it, even if the rest of his body was responding with a rush of heat that pulsed through him, ending in the pit of his stomach.
“Cooking supper. Cheeseburgers,” she said. “Remember how we used to have cheeseburgers at least once a week—”
“This is still my house,” he cut her off shortly. “I’ll cook. And I don’t want a cheeseburger.”
She tried to offer him another smile, but this one didn’t come so easily. “I don’t mind, really. You know I like to cook as much as you, Lee. And it’s not like I’m making a seven-course meal. Besides, this waiting and doing nothing is driving me bananas.”
Too bad, he thought. They were in this together, so they might as well be feeling the same thing. He stood his ground. If she wanted to put her personal things on the bathroom counter or work at his computer or read the morning’s newspaper before he could get his hands on it, then fine, but she wasn’t going to invade his kitchen, too. She was already invading too many other things. And he had to keep just one aspect of his life totally his and his alone. He had to. If he was going to keep his sanity and his heart intact, he would.
“I said I’ll cook,” he repeated, stepping closer.
That was his mistake—stepping closer. The warmth of her, the scent of her, touched him and mixed with the mouth-watering smell of supper cooking. It didn’t help that his stomach grumbled with hunger.
“But I can see your leg is bothering you,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.
“How nice of you to notice,” he muttered, trying to push his way past her.
“Why don’t you just sit down and rest?” she suggested, not budging from her spot at the stove.
“Erin, get out of my kitchen,” he snapped.
“Lee, you’re acting like a child,” she chided, not giving in an inch.
Yes, he knew he was acting like a child, and he didn’t care. He couldn’t stand it any longer. All he had done since he’d opened his door to her was fight his own emotions over Erin Flemming, and he was tired of the struggle. He was tired of the fact that she thought she could sweep back into his life as though she’d never left.
How many times had he thought about leaving her to the men he knew were sitting outside watching over them? He wondered why he hadn’t done it yet.
Tom’s men and the FBI in unmarked cars were both out there. Lee could see one out the living-room window and the other out his bedroom window. Hell, he felt like a prisoner caught in the middle. Caught with Erin, too. And the hardest thing was, it could take years to come up with something substantial on Burke. Doreli could disappear, and probably already had, since he hadn’t been seen anywhere by anybody. Worse yet, he could be doing this to Erin for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with the well-known Forest Burke. And that would send them right back to square one.
But at this point in time, Lee had Erin still to contend with. She looked him straight in the eye and refused to move away from the stove. Their supper began to burn behind her. Another few moments, and the smoke alarm would probably go off.
“Get out of the way, Erin,” he said, his throat tight.
“Go sit down, Lee.” Her eyes sparkled like emeralds, her coppery waves shimmered as she shook her head to emphasize her refusal. “Prop your leg up and take it easy.”
“Get out of my damned kitchen!”
“No,” she repl
ied, her voice never rising. She lifted her chin, though.
He wanted to shake her, but he didn’t dare touch her. He was suddenly terrified at the heat he would feel coming from her. He might as well stick his hands in the skillet with the cheeseburgers if he wanted to burn himself.
“At least turn the heat off so they don’t catch on fire,” he snapped, using every ounce of willpower he possessed to bring himself under some sort of control.
Erin reached behind her back and turned off the stove without even looking. Lee wished he could turn off the heat he felt in himself just as easily. He wished just as much that he could walk away from this job, from her, and let her have the kitchen, too. But he wouldn’t. Now that he was this close to her, he refused to back down.
“Lee, what’s the matter with you?” she asked evenly, never taking her eyes from him. “You’re like a simmering pot just waiting to boil over. I came here for your help, and you’ve given it. I thank you for it.”
He chuckled at her words. “Oh, well, you’re so welcome, Erin,” he said bitterly.
“Why don’t you just stop it?” she cried, her emotions finally seeping out. “If anyone deserves to act like a caged animal, it’s me. It’s my life sliding down. the sewer. Now, I’m doing everything I know to help this along,” she continued. “Do you think this is easy for me? Do you? My life has been turned upside down and torn out of my hands.”
“Well, gee, welcome to the club.”
She glared at him, her green eyes dark and smoldering. “What more can I do? What more do you want?”
As though she had to ask, he thought. As though she couldn’t look at him and know, when she seemed to know everything else. Well, if he had to show her point-blank, then so be it. He’d show it all to her.
“Just this!”
He grabbed her so quickly, he wasn’t even aware he’d commanded his hands to move. Suddenly, she was in his arms, pressed close to him, her whole body touching his. In all the right places, too. And he’d been wrong. She was hotter than the skillet behind her. She seemed to singe right into him, becoming one with him. There was no way he could ever let her go.
Crime Of The Heart Page 10