by Wendy Haley
His words brought memories crashing back through her mind, too-vivid tastes and feelings and sensations she didn’t want to remember. She turned and walked away from him.
Gabriel felt as though something important had been ripped out of him, and she’d taken it with her. He ought to go pound on her door, break it down if he had to...anything but to let her walk away like this. Everything that made him a man cried out for him to claim her—and take back whatever it was she’d stolen.
But he wasn’t just a man. He was a cop with a job to do.
So, instead of following his instincts, he pushed the Lobby button.
Downstairs, Gabriel found another detective ensconced in one of the comfortable armchairs scattered throughout the lobby.
“Hey, MacLaren,” he called softly.
Gabriel joined him. He didn’t know Brett Wilson well; the tall, sandy-haired detective had transferred in from another precinct a few weeks ago. He seemed capable enough, however.
“Are you my relief?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Wilson rubbed his thumb across his jaw. “So Rae Ann is up to old tricks, eh?”
Gabriel’s attention focused, sharpened. “What do you mean?”
“Rae Ann was married to my cousin Danny. He was a cop, too, stationed with me over in Balfour Hills. When they broke up, man, did she mess him up. Kept complaining to his captain, and once even went to the commissioner with her lies. Eventually got him run off the force.”
Shock numbed Gabriel’s mind. “How did she do that without evidence?”
“Hey, this is the nineties. You don’t need evidence—all you’ve got to have is politics. Don’t ever get involved with Rae Boudreau, that’s all I can say.” Shooting a speculative gaze at Gabriel, he added, “Oh, man, tell me you haven’t—”
“I haven’t,” Gabriel growled. “And if I had, I’m a big enough boy to take care of myself.”
“That’s what Danny said. He’s selling insurance now.”
Gabriel found himself not liking Brett Wilson very much. Strange, he should have been grateful for the warning. Hey, he would have been the first to say that Rae was trouble. But not like this. He would have bet his life that her kind of trouble was straightforward and honest, like her warm-sherry eyes.
“Damn,” he said. But not because of Danny whoever-he-was. Because of Rae, because she wasn’t the person he’d thought her to be.
And because of his own bitter disappointment.
“Hell of a thing, ain’t it?” Wilson asked.
“You’ve got that right,” Gabriel agreed.
Chapter 5
Rae twisted and turned, aware of her restless movement even in sleep. Gabriel MacLaren had invaded her world, her peace of mind and now even her dreams.
She could feel him, actually feel him. His hands were as hard and gentle as they’d been in reality, his mouth as hot as when he’d kissed her.
In her dreams, she had no defenses against him. Didn’t need any. They came together in passion, in love, in trust. Nothing between them but skin and heat. She became lost in his eyes, and it seemed as though she floated in a blue crystal sea, held safe in the hard strength of his arms.
Desire thrummed through her veins like a swift, powerful drumbeat. Her heart took up the rhythm. It was a dance as old as time: man and woman, woman and man. Passion as deep as the ocean, as uncontrollable as a thunderstorm. Primitive. Compelling. And oh, so very beautiful.
Her dream lover rose above her. She arched her back, welcoming him. No. Inciting him. His crystalline eyes blazed with passion, and she knew he’d given himself up to her completely. She curved her hand around his neck, ready, oh, so ready—
The telephone shrilled, and the lovely mood shattered like so much glass. Rae sat straight up, her hair all but standing on end. She felt as though every nerve in her body had been twanged like badly played guitar strings.
The phone rang again. She fumbled to answer it, only to find the cradle empty. “Darned cordless phones,” she muttered, groping along the top of the nightstand. “Where the devil did I leave it?”
Finally, she found the fugitive handset buried in the clutter that always seemed to accumulate beneath her bed.
“Hello?” she panted.
“Miss Boudreau, this is Barbara Smithfield. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
Rae glanced at the clock—5:10 a.m., she thought. Barbara Smithfield wasn’t the sort to be calling about something frivolous. “Don’t worry about that, Barbara. What’s the matter?”
“We’re being evicted this morning and... I hate to bother you, but if you think you might be getting close to finding Peter, I might be able to convince the landlord to wait a few weeks—”
“I wish I could tell you yes,” Rae said. “I almost caught up with him Saturday night, but he got away from me.”
“Oh.” Barbara Smithfield’s voice blurred, as though all her hope and will had drained out. “I’m sorry to have bothered you—”
“Barbara, where do you plan to go?” Rae asked.
The other woman hesitated a moment. “I heard of a place down on Washington Street—”
“That’s a shelter,” Rae said. “And only temporary.”
“Yes,” Barbara replied with quiet dignity, “I know. But right now that’s better than the alternative.”
Rae was possessed by a wave of outrage so sudden and powerful that she actually began to shake. “I won’t have it!” she snapped.
“What?” Barbara gasped.
“Get those kids in a taxi and come over here,” Rae ordered.
“But—”
“If you don’t have the money, tell the driver to come up here with you and I’ll pay him. We’ll figure the rest out later.”
“We couldn’t impose—” the other woman began.
“Enough,” Rae said, completely exasperated. What was she supposed to do, let them get thrown out onto the streets? “Just do what I tell you. For your kids’ sake if not your own.”
“Yes, Rae.” A lighter note had come into Barbara’s voice. Rae had the feeling she was being teased, but Barbara hung up before she could find out for sure. She sat for a moment, scowling at the phone and wondering how Gabriel would have felt had he taken that call. Would he just shrug, accepting the situation with that infuriating cop’s cynicism?
Probably, she thought. The only surprise was how much it hurt.
One thing was certain: if he still thought that his stupid little bureaucratic secret was more important than people, then he had no heart at all.
Rae stood in the doorway of the spare bedroom. Barbara Smithfield and the three children lay snuggled in the bed. The kids looked completely relaxed, as though a great weight had been lifted from their shoulders.
With a sigh, Rae turned away. Mike, the eight-year-old, had informed her that he was “the man of the family.” His little brother, Joey, hadn’t said much, but he’d quietly slipped his hand into Rae’s when she’d offered him a cookie. And the youngest, Sarah, had clutched her ragged teddy bear and watched Rae with an expression that looked an awful lot like hero worship.
“You’re lost, Boudreau,” Rae muttered.
She slung her briefcase over her shoulder and let herself out of the apartment. Her temper might not be running so high if she hadn’t known that Gabriel would be waiting for her. If he said one thing to her, one little thing... Scowling, she stabbed the elevator button with her forefinger.
The first thing she saw in the lobby was Detective MacLaren. He sat sprawled like a tiger in one of the armchairs, a newspaper open in his lap. Of course, he’d been watching for her.
Her heart gave a strange little leap as that crystalline gaze traveled her from head to toe and back again. Warmth raced through her in a molten tide. She saw a matching heat flicker to life in his eyes, and she nearly groaned in frustration.
This was terrible. Awful. She had it bad. Whatever it might be. She’d used the saying a thousand times without wondering what it really meant.
&n
bsp; She’d already been annoyed before coming down here. Now, with her very body betraying her, she passed straight into anger.
Gabriel smiled at her. She was sailing high and hard this morning, he thought. Probably that kiss last night. He’d hardly slept at all last night, tormented as he’d been by thoughts of her heat, her passion, her lushness. And now, seeing her in the flesh, he wanted her more than ever.
Rae, however, had been more accommodating in his dreams. He watched her walk toward him, her jaw set stubbornly, her eyes resentful. Still, she was so beautiful this morning that his heart felt as though it were turning flips in his chest. Her skin gleamed like rich cream in the bright sunlight, and red highlights burned in the depths of her hair.
She wore a green, long-sleeved tunic over gray leggings, and looked absolutely delicious. He had the feeling she thought the loose top hid her body, but she was much too curvy for that. But her unconscious sexiness was more stirring than any deliberate sensuality could possibly be.
No-nonsense Rae, striding toward him like pure temptation. He smiled appreciatively as she neared. But she stuck that slim, delightful nose in the air and sailed past without speaking, and he had to jump up to follow her before she got too far.
“Morning, Rae,” he said, falling into step beside her.
“Men are toads.”
Gabriel studied her for a moment while he pondered a response to that one. Had the toad remark come simply from temper, or was it a ploy to make him angry enough to walk away—leaving her alone to pursue Peter Smithfield?
“Ribbet,” he said.
Rae surveyed him with a look that should have burned him instantly. “I don’t have time to play with you today, Detective. I’ve got work to do.”
“I’ll be very quiet. You won’t even notice I’m around.”
Fat chance, Rae thought.
Her beeper went off, startling them both. Rae slapped her hand over the device to keep Gabriel from seeing the number display. It was her answering service, doubtless with a rush job.
“Excuse me,” she said, turning away. “I’ve got to find a phone.”
Without cracking a smile, he handed her his cellular. Rae made the call. It was a typical one for her: some lawyer needed papers served ASAP on a man who was flying in from Omaha this morning.
She studied Gabriel, calculating her chances of ditching him. It could be done. But not easily—she needed to choose the moment carefully, for maximum usefulness.
“Look,” she said, pinning him with a level stare, “it’s obvious that I’m not going to get rid of you—”
“You’ve got that right.”
“So, I might as well accept the situation.”
“Absolutely.”
She fell silent for a moment. Gabriel repressed a smile while he waited for the other shoe to drop.
“Then you won’t mind driving,” she said.
“Not at all.”
He grinned at her, a bad-boy smile the Devil himself would have envied, and took her by the arm. Her breathing suddenly became shallow. Tingles ran in all directions from the spot where he held her, and she felt as though she’d been dipped in fire.
“Why do I suddenly feel like the proverbial lamb being led to slaughter?” he inquired.
“Why, Detective,” Rae drawled in her best Scarlett imitation, “whyevah would you think that?”
He laughed, and that deep, husky sound brought her gaze down to his mouth. A tight, restless ache bloomed deep in her body, a woman’s affirmation of desire.
Once in the car, she studied him out of the corner of her eye. His face looked as though it had been carved from granite—rugged, handsome, unyielding. He was sure, so blindly sure, that his decisions were the best for everyone. But he was wrong. After looking into the eyes of Peter Smithfield’s children, Rae knew what was most important.
He slipped the Taurus through a break in traffic that would have intimidated another driver. Startled, Rae stomped a nonexistent brake pedal.
“What’s the matter, Rae?” he asked, shooting her a glance.
“I’ve grown accustomed to living,” she retorted. “When something threatens that, I react.”
“You wound me. I’m a very competent driver, you know.”
“Sure. But have you ever checked your rearview mirror to see the mayhem you leave in your wake?”
The creases bracketing his mouth deepened, although he didn’t actually smile. Very sexy, in Rae’s opinion. In profile, his face looked sharp hewn, with an aggressive jawline and an alarmingly rapacious look to his mouth. It was the face of a man who knew what he wanted, and who took it.
“Why haven’t you ever tried to get your driver’s license back?” he asked.
She stared at him, her mind knocked off balance by the unexpected question. “How did you know—? Never mind,” she said. “You’re a cop. You regularly pry into other people’s business.”
“Having your license suspended can hardly be considered private,” he said, “Besides, you’re the subject of a police surveillance. As of now, your life is an open book.”
“I doubt that, Detective,” she retorted.
He shot her a look from the corner of his eye. “Six years ago you had a rash of tickets, from parking too close to a fire hydrant to reckless driving. You ended up with a year-long suspension.”
“That’s the story,” she said.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You were going through a divorce at the time. Stressed out and emotional.”
Her tone turned arid. “Yup, that’s me.”
She lapsed into silence, not even tempted to tell him the truth of that story. It stung, even to this day. Not because her feelings were hurt, or even because she’d lost her license. But her sense of fair play had taken a bruising on that one.
Simply, the system had failed her—because it was being abused by the very people who were supposed to protect it. Her ex and several of his cop buddies had harassed her for months. They stopped her at least once a week. She’d complained, of course. But her word was nothing against that of the police officers.
It didn’t matter that she’d eventually won, gathering enough evidence to go to both her ex’s captain and the commissioner. Her idealism was gone, shattered, and she’d never get it back again.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Gabriel said.
She blinked, returning to the present in a rush. “My thoughts are much more valuable than that,” she retorted.
“Hmm. It might just be worth the investment to know what scheme is going through that tricky little brain of yours.”
“Detective,” she said in mock indignation, “surely you aren’t suggesting that I would try something nefarious, when you’re only doing your duly appointed job?”
“In a New York minute.”
She smiled at him, a secretive, intensely female smile that had all Gabriel’s instincts humming. She was a real player, this one. As her ex-husband could no doubt testify.
“There’s the lawyer’s office,” she said.
He ducked his head to look up at the building’s expensive brick facade. “I know this guy,” he said. “I arrest a lot of his clients.”
“Your cynicism is showing,” she said.
His eyes narrowed. “Maybe I should have smiled.”
Rae wished for a moment he was anything but a cop. He’d had more to do with the Peter Smithfields of the world than with decent people, and his perceptions were shadowed accordingly.
“I...” she began. Then she sighed. “Oh, never mind.”
She turned away. But he grasped her by the hand, bringing her back again. The moment his long, warm fingers closed around hers, the world gave a spin. Then it settled down into a new configuration, one centered on Gabriel MacLaren.
Rae found herself staring into his eyes, unable to break away from the passion flaring in their depths. His thumb strayed to the back of her hand and began to stroke. Back and forth, back and forth. Heat swept through her in a wild rush. She felt l
ight-headed, as though up and down had suddenly switched places.
“What is it?” he asked.
His voice ran through her like a physical touch. One word, one touch, and nothing else seemed to matter. It wasn’t just desire, although there was more of that than she’d like to admit. Whenever he touched her, her spirit seemed to go rushing toward him, pulling the rest of her along whether she wanted to go or not.
Did she want him? Yes. Did she want to want him? Oh, no.
With an effort of will, she pulled her hand from his. “I’ve got to get to work.”
“I’m not stopping you,” he countered.
One corner of his mouth went up in a smile that was as sexy as it was cynical. Rae got out of the car to escape it, although she would have died before admitting her own weakness.
It only took her a few minutes to collect the papers, but that respite gave her a chance to get her wayward emotions under control. By the time she returned to the car, she’d regained all the barriers he’d torn down before.
She hoped she could keep them. If she could keep from getting lost in those blue crystal eyes...
“Hey,” he said. “Where to, boss lady?”
“The airport.” She checked her watch. “I’m in a hurry—”
Her head snapped back as he screeched away from the curb. She shot him a glare and found him grinning at her like a wayward kid.
“Wanna work the siren?” he asked, waggling his brows.
“Yes!” she said in a sudden rush of delighf.
He got her to the airport in record time. Exhilarated by the wild ride, Rae laughed as he pulled up in front of the entrance.
“I’m going to have to get one of those things,” she said, pointing to the blue police light,
Gabriel turned to look at her, and his stomach did a headlong plunge into his knees. Rae actually seemed to glow, as though lit from within. And why? Not for baubles or even for love, but simply the pure, unadulterated delight of a fast car ride.
No woman had ever had his effect on him. Ever. If she knocked him for a loop with a laugh, he thought a bit hazily, then what would she do if she came to him in passion?