by Debra Cowan
“Depends. Do you plan on interviewing Embry when you get him booked?”
“No. I’m going to let him sit in a cell for that push he gave me. That might convince him to talk.”
“Then, you can book him on your own.”
“Fine.” She marched to her car, got in and drove away.
By the time she’d booked Embry and left him to cool his heels in jail, Kiley had calmed down. She was embarrassed for jumping down McClain’s throat the way she had. And she was mad at herself for letting Embry get past her defenses. She really wanted to go home for a long soak in the tub, then to bed, but she couldn’t leave things like this between her and Collier.
The idea of finding him and apologizing held about as much appeal as getting a root canal without anesthetic, but she backed out of the PD’s lot and headed for the fire investigator’s office. If she didn’t find him there, she’d try his house.
Less than fifteen minutes later she pulled up next to his truck in front of the old brick building. A light burned in the front section of the office. Kiley walked inside and went toward his office, which was also lit. She stopped in the doorway.
He stood across the small room in front of his bookcase, writing on a label affixed to a pint-size aluminum paint can that she knew he used to store samples. His coat and suit jacket were draped across the back of the chair behind his desk. The top button of his white dress shirt was undone, his tie loosened. With his sleeves rolled back, he looked relaxed, but Kiley noted the rigid set of his body.
He had to know she was there, but he continued writing. Finally he glanced at her, his green eyes hard.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Not a good time,” he said brusquely.
“About what happened with Embry—”
“I’m not apologizing for what I did, Blaze. You’re wasting your time if you think I’ll ever apologize for backing up a partner.”
“I don’t.” She took a chance and walked over to him. “You went off on him, Collier. What if you get written up? What if you hurt yourself again?”
He set the can on the top shelf and stepped around her to go behind his desk. “Afraid I’ll put a kink in your investigation?”
“No,” she said firmly. She turned, moved close enough to put a hand on his arm. “I was mad at myself for letting Embry get the drop on me, and I took it out on you.”
He looked down at her hand then back at her. “Forget it.”
He shook her off and moved to the end of his desk closest to the door. Putting as much space between them as he could without leaving his office.
She had really screwed up, letting her temper get the better of her. “C’mon, Collier. I’m truly sorry. What I did was way out of line. Will you accept my apology?”
His eyes were unreadable, his expression closed.
“It’s the red hair.” She tugged at a strand, giving him a hopeful smile. “It makes me get mad faster than other mere mortals.”
He still said nothing.
Frustrated, she walked past him and stopped in the doorway. “I don’t want things to be this way between us.”
Just when she thought he wouldn’t respond, he said, “I don’t, either.”
“So you’ll accept my apology?”
He nodded.
Relief rolled through her. “Good. Thank you.”
“You drive me crazy. You’re my partner out there, Blaze. That means I have your back.” He eased down onto the edge of his desk. “You better have mine, too.”
“I will. I do.” Relieved that Collier wasn’t holding a grudge, she laughed softly. “I thought you were going to beat up Embry.”
“I thought you were going to beat me up.”
His grin had her finally relaxing. “You were really mad at me.”
“No madder than you were at me.”
“Ouch.”
“Are you okay?” He gestured to her right cheek.
She nodded. “It’s just a scratch.”
“Let me look at it.”
She hesitated.
“Hey, you doctored me last night. Just returning the favor.”
“You’re not using this as an excuse to lay some hurt on me?”
He chuckled. “Come here. I’ve got some antiseptic.”
She stepped over to him as he reached around to the back of his desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a small white bottle and a clear plastic bag containing swabs. He wet the cotton tip with the medicine and looked up at her, crooking his finger. “You’re gonna have to get closer.”
She moved just inside his knees, her stomach clenching at the flesh-warmed scent of clean, musky male. The barely there brush of his hard thighs against hers.
“It’ll probably sting,” he murmured. He moved the swab carefully over the scrape on her right cheek.
She yelped, flinching.
“Don’t be a baby,” he teased. He doctored the spot again, then blew on it.
She started, making a sound of surprise. “No one’s done that since I was little.”
He laid down the swab. “Still burning?”
“A little.”
He blew on it again. She laughed. “That tickles.”
His gaze flared hotly, putting a flutter in her belly. Before she could move away, before she knew what he was doing, he leaned over and brushed his lips across the spot. “How about now?”
Now? Now what? Sensation jolted her nerves like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. He had to be able to hear her heart pounding like a jackhammer.
“Does it still burn?”
His big hands were beneath her coat, bracketing her hips. She didn’t remember him putting them there. He pulled her between his legs, right up against him. He was hard and before she could stop herself, her surprised gaze flew to his. “Collier.”
“I need another taste, Blaze,” he murmured.
A shiver rippled through her. His eyes were dark with desire and intent. Her brain short-circuited. Surrounded by his heat, his body, she couldn’t manage a single thought.
He lifted a hand, ran his thumb back and forth across her bottom lip. Anticipation coiled inside her. If he didn’t kiss her, she was going to scream.
He leaned toward her, tugging her chin down with his thumb, opening her mouth. “Let me in.”
She did, her senses on overload. He didn’t kiss her hard and fast and wild like last time, although she probably wouldn’t have had any defense against that, either. This kiss was slow and thorough, as if he intended to learn every inch of her and planned to take his own sweet time doing it.
She was vaguely aware of the needy sound that came from her throat. Her knees went weak and she gripped his arms, feeling the steel bands of muscle beneath his white dress shirt.
His hands glided to her lower back, curved over her bottom. She pressed into him, skimming her hands up his hard arms to his shoulders, slipping her fingers into his hair. It was warm and silky against her flesh.
He left her lips, trailed kisses to her ear, down the side of her neck. Burning up, she brought his mouth back to hers.
He stroked one hand up her back, around to rest just below her breasts and thumbed her nipple through the wool of her sweater. It tightened in a glorious rush of sensation.
She had to stop before she completely lost control of herself. She pulled away, her senses whirling.
Breathing as hard as she was, he rested his forehead on hers. She struggled to calm the churning, restless thoughts that rushed in on her. “Collier—”
“If you say you didn’t want that, you’re a liar.”
“I wanted it.” She dragged in a lungful of air. “But I can’t get involved with you.”
“Why?” He lifted his head, his gaze burning into hers. “Because we work together?”
“Oh. Didn’t think about that one. But no. I like you. A lot.” Her gaze involuntarily dropped to his mouth and she said regretfully, “And you are one good kisser.”
“But?”
It was hard to concentrate with his hand resting so close to her breast. Her body hummed on high speed.
“If you’re going to turn me down, at least tell me why.”
“I…you’re…” She looked him straight in the eye and said around the lump in her throat, “Guys like you scare me.”
He frowned, watching her intently. Listening.
“Flings work for you. They don’t work for me. I’m not wired that way. I can’t do it.” She looked at his mouth again. “Believe me, right now I wish I could.”
“It would be good.”
“For a while.”
“Why don’t you give me a chance to change your mind?”
“I can’t.”
“You want me. Admit it.”
“Obviously, I do,” she said dryly. “You’re hot, McClain. How’s that for you?”
One corner of his mouth hitched up. “Then what’s the problem?”
She liked that he didn’t try to pull her back into him. Or kiss her again. He just waited. She rarely talked about this, but she needed for Collier to know. To understand. “My dad was a compulsive womanizer.”
“How compulsive?”
“While married to my mom, he had affairs. Plural. I don’t know how many, and I don’t want to know.”
“I’m not trying to be a jerk, Blaze, but wouldn’t that affect your mom more than you?”
“You’d think, but I saw him repeatedly lie to her, to us. As Kristin and I got older, he tried to get us to lie for him, too. When they finally divorced, I was twelve.”
“Did you see him after that?”
“Yes. Whenever we were with him, he had a different woman. My sister and I always came second to whoever that was. Occasionally they would be the mothers of my friends or one of our teachers.”
He made a rough sound.
“When I was in college, I came back to my dorm one evening after studying and found him with my roommate. Another time I had to bail him out of jail for soliciting.”
Collier’s thumb moved soothingly back and forth in a spot just below her breasts. Kiley wondered if he was even aware of doing it.
His gaze searched her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“That’s why I told you.” She gave him a small smile.
“And you’re afraid I’d do something like that?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
He flinched, shoving a hand through his hair. “I can’t say I don’t always know where I stand with you, Blaze.”
“We’re just too different, Collier. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be good while it lasted, but I’ve never gotten the hang of casual relationships. I don’t want to. I don’t like them.”
“And casual’s my reputation, right?” he asked evenly.
She thought she heard a thread of hurt beneath his words. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she wouldn’t lie. “You know what works for you and I know what works for me,” she said brightly.
He studied her. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“No.” She tried to dismiss the stab of disappointment. He was only doing what she’d asked. She swallowed hard, looked down for a minute. “Are we going to be okay? As partners, I mean.”
He drew away, folding his arms. Closing himself off from her. “Do we have a choice?”
“No.” She backed toward the wall. “But I want to know you’re okay about working with me.”
“I’m fine.”
She searched his eyes, saw he was telling the truth. “Call me when you get Vail’s file from the city attorney, okay? Or if you have any news about the fake firefighter, Franklin.”
“You know I will.”
Somehow she made it to her car on legs that were as limp as wet string. She had to sit there for a few minutes before she felt steady enough to drive. She liked Collier, really liked him. Not just the way he kissed and touched her, but him.
If he tried pursuing this thing between them, her defenses wouldn’t last long. She didn’t know how to protect herself except to stay away from him, and that was impossible. They were partners until this investigation was closed. She needed his expertise, his cool head.
She had to figure out a way to work around this sizzling attraction before she gave in to it.
Chapter 8
Two days after that kiss, Collier’s body still hummed. Once he had put his mouth on Kiley’s, she hadn’t even hesitated. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, and he knew he could wear her down by using that to his advantage. In fact, he figured another kiss or two would get her right where he wanted her.
Still, he couldn’t ignore what she’d told him about her father. Collier now understood her skittishness about him, and it did have him tapping his mental brakes. He wanted her, but he didn’t know what he was going to do about it.
A little before six-thirty that Monday evening, he drove east on I-40 toward Oklahoma City then hit I-35 and headed north for Presley. The interview he’d just finished with a long-ago neighbor of Sherry Vail’s had yielded some prime information.
Kiley had been in court all day. Before he’d left his office this morning, Collier had called to catch her up on what he’d found in their suspect’s personnel file. When Sherry had applied to be a firefighter, the police and agents from the Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation had conducted interviews with people she’d given as references and, as was the norm, also with some she hadn’t. A note written beside the name of Sherry’s former neighbor had put Collier on the woman’s trail.
He’d finally tracked down Marti Linn, who now lived in Minco, a small town southwest of Oklahoma City. Kiley was going to be sorry she had to hear this secondhand.
The trip took him a little over an hour. After exiting the highway and reaching Presley city limits, he punched in her cell number on his mounted car phone. Getting no answer, he tried her at home.
“Hello!” She sounded winded.
“Russell?”
“Oh, McClain! Let me call you back. I’ve got Niagara Falls flooding my house and I’m waiting to hear from a plumber.”
“What’s overflowing?”
“My washing machine.”
“From the top? Bottom? Behind?”
“I don’t know! It looks like it’s coming out from under the machine.”
“Sounds like the fill hose. I can probably fix it.”
“I need help now, McClain.
“I’m on my way into town as we speak.”
“How can there be so much water in that thing!”
“Can you see behind the machine? To where it’s hooked up?”
“Wait.” He heard sloshing, then a hollow bang. “Okay, I’m on top of the washer—oh, I see what looks like a hookup. What do I do?”
He grinned, picturing her climbing on top of the appliance. “Do you see a faucet knob in the wall?”
“Yes.”
“Turn it off. That will stop the water until I get there.”
“Okay—oh, there I got it. You’re hired.”
“Give me your address.” After she did, he said, “I can make it in about ten minutes.”
“My laundry area leads into the garage so come in the front door. That should keep you dry, more or less.”
“See ya in a few.”
Several minutes later he parked in the driveway of an older, Colonial-style home, red brick with black shutters and white trim. After getting his toolbox from behind his pickup seat, he walked up a couple of steps to the porch and opened the front door. Teased by a fruity-spicy scent, he stepped into a wide foyer that looked into the living room. “Russell?”
“I’m back here! Come down the hallway with the wood floor then through the kitchen.”
He did, noticing the dark planks were real wood, and hand cut and fitted. Walking past a small dining room, he heard Kiley muttering, then the soggy slap of a wet towel. The kitchen was small but open, and done in cheery red and white. He crossed the corner of the bright, airy room in three steps and rounded a wall.
Have mercy.
The first thing he saw was her gorgeous backside covered in soft pale pink. She was on her hands and knees sopping up water. Her hair swung around her face and shoulders, but what had his mouth going dry was the sight of her slender curves gloved in form-fitting workout clothes. If those were sweats, they weren’t like any he’d ever seen.
Except for her bare feet, she was completely covered, but that didn’t stop Collier’s entire body from going tight. The zip-front jacket rode up the smooth slope of her back, revealing creamy skin between the jacket’s hem and the top of hip-hugging pants that sleeked down her long legs. Freckles dusted the dip of her spine, and that stretchy material molded to the high firm butt he’d had his hands on two days ago.
Tossing a soaked towel to the side, she reached left and yanked a fresh one from where it hung over the open dryer door. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him, relief streaking across her face.
Sitting back on her feet, she shifted toward him. “Am I glad to see you! There must be a million gallons of water in that thing. Who knew it took so much to do a load of laundry?”
She was as cheery as usual, but there was a tension beneath her words that hadn’t been there two days ago. The floor looked slippery in places, but the calf-high stack of wet towels against the wall testified to how much water she had already mopped up. “Looks like you’re making progress.”
She shoved her hair out of her face, the motion causing her jacket to hitch up and tease him with a peek of her flat belly. “I think I’ve got most of the water cleaned up. At least you can walk across the room without ruining your shoes.”
He said something that must’ve made sense because she surveyed the small space and nodded. At the moment he was aware only of the hard thrum of need in his blood. She looked delicious. All pink and fluffy and soft. He wanted to drink her up.
His hand clenched so tight on the handle of his toolbox that he felt the metal clear to his knuckles. He knew he’d left her with the impression on Friday that he was going to back off, but right now the chances of that happening were about as likely as hell churning out ice. He wanted to pull down that jacket zipper and see what she wore underneath. How was he going to keep his hands off her?