by Lee McKenzie
The feel of her and the scent of her skin already had his senses on overload, but he wanted it all. He wanted to hear more of those breathy sighs, taste her and explore every square inch of her. The lights were staying on.
He took one breast into his mouth, marveling at the texture, and how the more he teased, the more it changed. With one hand he explored her belly, hip and thigh, still clad in dark jeans. Finally unable to resist, he slipped his fingers between her legs.
Even through the fabric she was hot and damp, and he was practically delirious with desire. He hardly dared let himself believe that Lucky Devil was about to get lucky with Claire DeAngelo. A momentary flash of uncertainty ripped through him, and he reminded himself that he needed to take this slow. She deserved to be worshipped, not ravished.
Apparently she had other ideas. She tugged at his belt buckle and when that didn’t give way, she ran her hand over the front of his jeans, covering him with her palm. What little willpower he had evaporated.
Next time they would take it slow. Or the time after that, for sure.
He closed his eyes and momentarily gave himself up to her intimate touch, then he undid her jeans, dipped a hand inside her panties and primed her with a couple of quick strokes.
She unzipped his fly and returned the favor.
He stroked her some more, smug in the knowledge that he was here with her, and she was hot for him. Him. He unbuckled his belt and unsnapped his jeans. She had found a way in, but he was desperate to give her full access. And she took full advantage.
This felt so right in so many ways. Sweet, shy Claire, who had always come across as being a little unsure of her womanhood, was moving to the rhythm of his touch, not afraid to show him what she wanted or give him what he needed.
His sense of personal triumph was interrupted by a sound from outside the bedroom. A key in the door? The hair went up on the back of his neck.
The door opened quietly and closed again.
What the hell?
In the space of a heartbeat his instincts shifted from the beautiful woman sprawled beside him to the disturbing awareness they were no longer alone. He put a finger to his lips, indicating she needed to be quiet, ignoring the fleeting second thought brought on by the scent of her.
His gut told him the intruder was the same person who’d been watching him earlier. In one swift silent move he stood, zipped his jeans and retrieved his gun from inside his jacket.
Claire’s eyes went wide. Shh, he silently cautioned her again.
He moved to the bedroom door, confident that his ability to silently cross the carpet like a cat gave him the advantage. Bad enough someone had picked the lock and broken into the place, but to interrupt him when he was about to have sex for the first time in a really long time? Whoever this was deserved to get shot.
He was halfway down the short hallway when a shadow slanted across the floor ahead of him. He flattened himself against the wall and waited. By the time the shadow-maker appeared, he was ready for him. He slammed the man face-first against the opposite wall and jerked one of his arms behind his back. Air gushed out of the guy’s chest with a pleasing oomph and the stale scent of whiskey. Luke jabbed the business end of his weapon between a couple of ribs.
“Seattle P.D. Don’t move, unless maybe you’ve got a death wish.”
“Police? What the...?”
Luke immediately recognized the voice. Claire’s ex. What was this son of a bitch doing here?
“This is break-and-enter.” Maybe a pat down would teach Mr. High-and-Mighty to think twice before stalking his ex-wife and breaking into her apartment. Still, some of his tension eased, knowing the intruder wasn’t one of the subjects they had under surveillance.
“Luke. Let him go.” Claire appeared in the bedroom doorway, and then light flooded the hallway. She had pulled on a dressing gown and folded her arms across the front to keep it closed.
Luke lowered his weapon and reluctantly backed off.
Donald swung away from him, flexing his arm. “How can I break and enter a place if I own it?”
“By not living in it,” Luke said. Did this jerk really believe he could come and go from here, from Claire’s home, anytime he pleased?
“I thought you were out.” Donald spoke to Claire as though Luke wasn’t in the room.
Luke took a step toward him. “I don’t believe you. You were sitting in your car out front when we got home. You came up here to find out what we were doing.”
Donald eyed Luke’s bare chest and unbuttoned jeans, then flicked his gaze at Claire. “It’s a free country. I can sit anywhere I want, anytime I want.”
“A free country?” What was this guy? Twelve? “Stalking is against the law. Maybe you’d like to take a trip down to the station and find out how goddamned free you’ll be then.”
“Luke. I’ll handle this.”
This no-nonsense Claire was new to him, and he liked her. Liked her a lot. He stood his ground, though, arms loose by his sides, ready to move if Donald decided to stay stupid.
“And you,” she said, turning on the ex. “You have no business being here, and you need to leave. Now.”
“But what about...”
“There are no buts, Donald. I have nothing to say to you. I told you I’ll call my lawyer. My lawyer will call your lawyer. Now get out.”
Luke had to hand it to her. A lot of women would have fallen apart under the circumstances, but not Claire. Her demeanor was calm and collected, her voice firm, even a bit forceful. She wasn’t backing down, and she wasn’t taking no for an answer. Still, he slowly reached around his back to where he’d stashed his gun. The action wasn’t lost on Donald, who held up both hands, palms out, and stepped away.
“Okay, okay. I’m going, but this isn’t over,” he said, backing toward the door, apparently not ballsy enough to turn his back on them. Good call.
“I want this place on the market, Claire. Soon. And I want that book back.”
“Out!” Claire’s voice was a little sharper.
Donald opened the door, but he didn’t leave. “You really a cop?” he asked.
“Yeah, I am.”
“You got a badge?”
“It’s in my jacket, in the bedroom.” You want a pissing contest? Bring it on, buddy. “Tell you what. You want me to produce my badge, I get to read you your rights.”
“That’s bullshit.” Now that Donald was out of the apartment, he seemed a little less intimidated and a lot more full of himself.
Luke dealt with guys like this all the time. Arrogant, never willing to acknowledge they were in the wrong, always wanting the last word. Short of locking them up, there was only one way to handle them. He shut the door in Donald’s face and flipped the dead bolt home with a sharp click. Not that a dead bolt could keep out someone with keys, but Luke was reasonably confident the guy wasn’t dumb enough to come back.
“You okay?” he asked, turning to face Claire.
Her bottom lip quivered a little and she shook her head.
“Come here.” He drew her into his arms and held her, happy to offer comfort but feeling like an ass because now he was mostly ticked that Donald’s appearance had blown his chances with her. Her breath was warm against his shoulder, her hair soft beneath his hand as he stroked the back of her head.
After a minute or two her body relaxed and she slipped her arms around his waist, letting the robe fall open as she did. He didn’t need to look down to know that before she’d put on the robe, she’d shed the bra he’d unfastened earlier.
He hooked her chin with a finger and tipped her face up, needing to get a read on what she wanted from him. He didn’t like what he saw.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “He’s never done anything like this before.”
Luke wasn’t so sure. Stalkers usually worked their way up to the kind of brazen behavior they’d seen tonight. If he had to guess, he’d say Donald had been at this for a while.
“You’re sure he’s never been in here? M
aybe when you’re not home?”
Her eyes filled with concern. “I...I don’t know. I just assumed he wouldn’t. None of his things are here.”
You’re here. While Donald figured there was nothing wrong with hooking up with a new woman, he clearly had an issue with Claire moving on. Probably best not to upset her with that just now.
“I think you should change the lock.” He was kind of surprised she hadn’t already done that, but she had always wanted to believe the best in people.
“I’ll call a locksmith first thing in the morning. Otherwise I’ll never get any sleep.”
“Speaking of sleep, it’s getting late.” He brushed her hair back and lightly kissed her forehead. “You should get some rest. If it’ll help, I’ll spend the night on the sofa.”
“I’d like you to stay,” she said, demonstrating that need by sliding her hands over his hips and angling herself against him. “But not out here.”
For the second time that evening, she laced her fingers with his and led him into the bedroom. Oh, yeah. He really was a lucky devil. If anyone interrupted them this time, he just might shoot first and ask questions later.
Chapter Four
Claire eased out of a deep sleep, Luke’s warm breath on the back of her neck slowly seeping into her consciousness, his body curved snugly behind hers. Early-morning light crept past the edges of the drapes, but according to the clock radio on the nightstand, she had only slept for a couple of hours. It had been a sound sleep, though. The security of having him stay the night, mixed with an exhilarating series of rapid-fire orgasms, had seen to that.
This might never happen again, she reminded herself. And that was okay.
Luke had kept her mind off of Donald’s intrusion. Her ex could be annoying, demanding even, but she had never been afraid of him. This morning she didn’t know what to think. What had possessed him to let himself in? What would he have done if she hadn’t been here? Better question...what would he have done if she had been here alone? Luke was convinced that Donald had been sitting out front, watching them when they came home from dinner. If so, he knew she was here with another man, and yet he used his key to come in. Why would he do that? Why would he care?
She had been stalling over selling the condo, partly because she hated being rushed into making decisions, but mostly because calling the shots gave her some control over this situation. She could admit that, at least to herself. Now the idea of living here alone, even with the lock changed, creeped her out.
She needed to make a decision and she needed to make it soon, but right now she had better things to do. She was wrapped in Luke’s arms, safe and satisfied, and if she didn’t wake him, she could lie here a little—maybe a lot—longer.
“You awake?” he asked.
“I am. I thought you were asleep, though.”
He nipped her earlobe. “I was faking it.”
“You were very convincing.”
She shifted onto her back so she could see him, pulling on the sheet to keep her body covered. For a little while last night she’d been a different person, or at least the way Luke had looked at her in the dim light had made her feel different. Instead of being awkward, overweight Claire, she’d been bold, even a little sexy, and she had done things with him she’d never dreamed of doing with any other man, ever. Not that there’d been many.
But this morning, in the clear, cool light of day, she was back to normal, self-consciously aware of the extra pounds she couldn’t shed, not even on a diet of rice cakes and celery sticks.
“I thought about getting up and bringing you coffee in bed.” Luke nuzzled the soft spot behind her ear, the way he had last night, but the stubble on his jaw turned it into a brand-new experience. “But I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to get that coffeemaker to work. Besides...this is nice.”
This was heaven, especially now that his tongue was in on the action. Her eyelids drifted shut and she gave herself over to the magic until—
“Oh!” She had loosened her grip on the sheet and Luke whisked it aside. “No, Luke. I’m cold.”
“I can fix that.” He pulled the sheet back over her, diving beneath it as he did.
He made her laugh, and then he made her suck in her breath, and then she forgot about everything except the thing he was doing that was making her glad she’d decided last night that she could be that woman.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, SHOWERED, dressed and feeling more pleased with himself than he had in a long, long time, Luke sat on a stool at the kitchen island, drinking strong, black coffee, just the way he liked it, and watching Claire fix herself a latte. If he could convince her to let him spend some time here and monitor the activity in the building next door—and hang out with her, of course—she would have to show him how to work this contraption. It made one fine cup of coffee.
“Are you working today?” She set her cup on the counter and settled on the stool next to his. “At either of your jobs?”
“Window washers don’t do residential work on Saturdays. People tend to be at home and they resent having their privacy invaded.”
“Makes sense.” She put a container of skim milk back in the fridge. “It seems strange, at least to me, that you actually have to be on their crew. It must be scary, hanging on the side of a building like that.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He didn’t mind it, and he only needed to spend a couple of days at it, long enough to get an up close look at the penthouse across the way. “This morning I have a meeting down at the station, though. And some paperwork to catch up on.”
There hadn’t been a meeting scheduled, but while Claire was in the shower Luke had called his sergeant about this new development, and he had called them in to discuss the pros and cons of adding this vantage point to their stakeout. Providing Luke could find a way to get Claire to go along with it. Could he convince her to do that without letting her in on his real reason for wanting to be here? Sure, he wanted to be with her, and after last night, he figured he had a pretty good shot at spending more time with her. He knew a thing or two about satisfying a woman, and Claire was satisfied. But nobody in their right mind shacked up after one date. But Donald...that jerk just might provide him with the in he needed.
She sipped her drink, and he leaned in to take care of the foam on her lip before her tongue got to it. He liked that he could do that, loved that she would let him.
And there was that smile again. Definitely satisfied. Not that last night had only been about finding a way in here. Last night had been amazing. For the past two years, since getting sober, he’d taken his AA sponsor’s advice and avoided relationships, even one-night stands. Last night he’d been more than ready to move forward, and it turned out sober sex was mind-blowing. Huh. Who freakin’ knew?
“What about you?” he asked. “Is Saturday a day off?”
“Never. I’m showing condos to some young newlyweds this morning and this afternoon I’m hosting an open house at a property I listed last week.” She glanced away. “Before that, I have to call a locksmith.”
He touched her arm, her shoulder and finally snagged her chin, turning her to face him. “Let me call someone for you. They usually charge an arm and a leg to come out on weekends, but I have a connection.”
“You have a friend who’s a locksmith?”
“Not a friend.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, brought up a number. “A contact I made on the job.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Does this guy just keep bad guys out? Or does he help the good guys get in?”
Interesting that she would ask. “Some questions are best left unanswered.”
She laughed. “Fair enough. If you can get me a deal and get it done right away, that’s all I need to know. That, and what you’d like for breakfast.”
“I never turn down a meal. What have you got?”
“Eggs.” She got up and opened the fridge. “Green onions, red peppers, mushrooms. I can make an omelet as long as you’
re okay with no cheese.”
“Sounds good to me.”
He stood and picked up his coffee, making the call to Marty at Lock ’N’ Key as he crossed the living room to the windows. The glass of the opposite building reflected the morning sky, making it impossible to see anything or anyone inside. A good pair of binoculars used from a discreet vantage point would change all that. He needed to make this work.
After making arrangements to have the lock changed, he rejoined Claire in the kitchen. He picked up the knife next to the cutting board and, while she cracked eggs into a bowl and whisked them, he chopped the onions and sliced peppers and mushrooms.
“You’re very handy in the kitchen,” she said.
“And you thought I was just a pretty face.”
She laughed at that.
He tossed a sliver of red pepper into the air and caught it in his mouth. When he offered one to her, she parted her lips so he could slide it inside. He practically groaned out loud.
“I’ve had lots of practice. With cooking,” he added, in case she thought he was talking about something else. “Comes with the territory.”
“Confirmed-bachelor territory?”
He couldn’t tell if she was baiting him. “Something like that. But even when I was with Sherri, I did most of the cooking. When we ate in, which wasn’t often.”
Claire set a skillet on the stove and turned on the element. “Do you miss her?”
No one had ever asked him that. “No, I don’t. I guess that makes me a bit of a jerk.”
“Being in a relationship doesn’t mean you’ll miss the other person when it’s over. I sure don’t miss Donald, especially after last night.”
“Is that right? I was that good?” It was a smart-ass thing to say, but he couldn’t stop himself.
Her face went from flushed to flaming in a matter of seconds, but she was grinning, too. “That’s a pretty lethal weapon you have.” She plucked a slice of pepper off the cutting board and slid it into his mouth. “I’m sure Donald would agree.”
Donald? What the...? She’s talking about the Glock, genius.