When A Stranger Calls (New York State Trooper Series Book 7)

by Jen Talty

  Talk about not being romantic.

  “You’re right. I’ll take the money.”

  “I want you to let me take the jewelry to the place my mom uses. I think we need to have these items valued.”

  “Couldn’t it then become public that I have the items and cause people to wonder why I have them? I really don’t want attention brought to me or my father’s paternity.”

  “Neither do I.” He took the box and set it on the nightstand. “Jillian said she was going to come up with a plan after looking into some laws or whatever. We sit tight and do nothing until we’ve talked to her. Then we make the shit go away.”

  “Thank you.” She slid down the bed, rolling to her side, tucking her hands under her cheek.

  “For what?” His fingers tangled in her hair, putting pressure on her scalp.

  She sighed. “For picking up the phone when a stranger called.”

  He laughed, tugging her head into his lap, fingers dancing up and down her arm, across her neck. Hard to believe any woman wouldn’t want to be curled up in his arms.

  “I almost never answer calls from numbers I don’t recognize.”

  “Then why’d you answer?”

  “Pulling you over had put me in a bit of a sour mood. I figured Rusty was waggling his finger at me for not saying anything to you considering all of our conversations. I assumed it would be a telemarketer and since I had no plans, I thought I’d entertain myself by harassing the person on the other end.”

  “That’s mean.” Draping her arm over his thighs, she let her mind wonder back to their first encounter. The way he looked at her had been with compassion, not judgment. Not something you’d expect from a police officer who had pulled you over for reckless driving.

  “I was bored, but also wondering what would have happened if Rusty had been able to introduce us.”

  “That’s an interesting thought.” Even early on in her relationship with Larry, there’d been a distance between them. She’d told herself she didn’t want to let anyone in too fast because that’s how people get hurt.

  “I feel connected to you,” he whispered. “I have from the moment I laid eyes on you and I’ve only felt that way once before, but it wasn’t even remotely as strong as this.”

  Admitting she felt the same way would make her vulnerable in a way she’d never been before. Being vulnerable meant being weak, or at least it used to. She took risks all the time when it came to work. Closing a deal often meant playing your boss and the customer, trying to do right by both of them. Being with Larry, she’d treated it much the same way. A business deal.

  She closed her eyes. This thing with Tristan started out the exact same way.

  A deal.

  She took a deep breath, blinking a few times, her focus landing on the box. “I asked you to help me with the key, and you’ve done that. You don’t need to do anymore. I’m not really sure I helped you with women, but I think we’ve kept our promises to each other.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” His hand dropped to the bed. “I tell you I care about you and start babbling on about an agreement we made, that quite frankly, I only suggested because I wanted to be with you.” He lifted her head, resting it on a pillow as he stepped from the bed. “You’re really going to push me away now?”

  Was that what she was doing? “I don’t mean to.” She wanted to get out of the bed, put her arms around him, and kiss him like there was no tomorrow, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  “Really? Because I just told you I’m falling head over heels for you, putting my heart out there, and you’re just going to toss it aside. Jesus, Brooke. That’s really cold.”

  The bed shook as he stomped out the room. Moments later, she heard the fridge slam shut.

  What the hell was she doing? Tristan had been nothing but kind to her and she genuinely liked him. Fuck. It was a hell of lot more than like, but the connection scared her.

  Not having the connection, though, would be worse.

  She took in a deep breath and made her way to the kitchen. He leaned against the doorjamb into the family room, swigging a beer.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I just broke up with a man I thought I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t think I’m over it yet. It wouldn’t be fair to you to keep this going.”

  Tristan laughed, only it wasn’t a ha ha funny laugh. “You’ve been over that asshole for some time now. The only thing that’s got you tied up in knots with regard to him is the fact that you lost control. But more importantly, you’re mad because you saw it coming and you didn’t do anything about it. Just like when my sister got into that go-cart, I reminded her of her times, and how close she was to a world record, putting that thought in her head.”

  Brooke covered her mouth, squelching a gasp. “Your sister’s death isn’t your fault.”

  “No, it’s not, but it’s a statement I carry around with me. I knew before I said it, she was planning on going for it. Even when I told her to take the corners easy, I could sense her adrenalin and I knew she’d push hard.” He turned, taking another long draw from the glass bottle. “You were right when you said my problem with women started when Tamara died and then got worse when Brenda didn’t return my feelings. If you don’t feel what I do, fine, just say it. But don’t insult me and use Larry, the loser, as an excuse.”

  “It’s not Larry that is the issue.” Brooke ducked her head into the fridge and pulled out a beer for herself. “Larry and I were set up, but the beginning of our relationship was much like a business arrangement. Kind of like, I scratch your back, you scratch mine. You and me?” She waved her finger between them. “Feels like a business deal, so no matter the connection, I don’t trust it.” She started to pace behind the small kitchen table. Her pulse raging. “Being with you feels comfortable and I don’t know what to make of that. I’ve known you for what? A couple of weeks? And just a few minutes ago, when you stepped from the bed, I felt you retreat. Fuck, Tristan. I felt whatever you did and that I just don’t know what to do with.”

  “You accept it,” he said sternly. “Or you build a wall to prevent it. From the time Brenda broke up with me until this moment. I’ve been building walls. I didn’t know that’s what I was doing, but I suppose it was some defense thing, protecting myself, but I’m tired of it and I care about you and want to be with you. What do you want?”

  She stopped pacing, sipping her beer, staring at him. His dark eyes lacking their usual spark and she’d done all that because she didn’t want to be vulnerable and was too scared of knowing what he felt all the time.

  “I want to understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “My grandmother and I were connected on so many levels. It used to bother me that I didn’t have it with my parents, and I loved them deeply.” She wiped the tears that she had no control over. Not being able to be in charge of how her body reacted to emotions scared her so much she wanted to lock them up in a deep, dark corner of her brain. “I used to think there was something wrong with me that I couldn’t connect with my mother the same way and let me tell you, she was the best mother ever.”

  “Tamara was the only one where the connection was so deep it would totally freak anyone out. I once woke at two in the morning, startled. Her plane had just landed and I think it was the jolt.”

  “Seriously?”

  He nodded. “No-one but twins can have that kind of deep-seated connection, I think. But we have deep emotional ties to certain people. Outside of Tamara, my grandfather on my dad’s side and I have that kind of bond. Growing up, he always tried to treat us grandkids the same, but I think my siblings and cousins sensed it. It’s not that he loved me more, or I was extra special or something, just a simple understanding.”

  “Well, I don’t understand it with you,” she said, slamming her beer on the counter. “I did push you away because this connection or deep bond or whatever this is, it’s freaking me the fuck out.”

  Trista
n laughed.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “If you saw your face, you’d think it was funny.”

  She pursed her lips. “Doubtful.” But she couldn’t help cracking a slight smile. “You make me crazy.”

  “Hopefully, that’s a good thing.”

  “No idea,” she said. “I do care about you, but I need to know you’re here because you like me, not because of some duty or responsibility you feel because of my grandfather, or because I asked you for help.

  He quietly set his beer down and closed the gap. Taking her hand, he placed it on the center of his chest. “I’d do almost anything you asked. I want you, and only you. I’m sure I’ll manage to say something stupid every now and then, but at least you laugh when I do. As far as what will happen a few months down the road? No idea, but I’m willing to put my heart on the line.”

  “You are the weirdest, strangest, kindest, most adorable man I’ve ever met.”

  He circled his arms around her waist, staring deep into her eyes. “Don’t push me away again.”

  “I can’t promise I won’t do that.”

  “At least that’s honest,” he whispered, before pressing his full lips against hers in a slow, tender kiss. Every cell in her body erupted in a sizzle, similar to those sparklers used on the fourth of July, going off at different times. Her muscles melted into his strong frame. Every time he’d taken her to bed…or took her in general, he’d been attentive to her needs, which seemed like an oxymoron. They’d been wild with sex, but this felt different. Not tame. It certainly got her wet with anticipation, but the way his tongue teased hers, gently stroking the inside of her mouth, told her this would be an experience of a lifetime.

  She shuddered.

  “Something wrong?” He kissed her neck and she shivered again. “Or do you just like that.” He sucked her earlobe into his mouth and she moaned.

  “Come on.” He took her by the hand and led her toward the bedroom, stopping just as they crossed the threshold. He leaned against the wall, tickling his finger from her chin to her cleavage. “I like everything about you.”

  She looked down at her heaving chest, two of his fingers running across the top of her breasts. Sucking in a deep breath, she tried to guide his hands into her bra and over her nipples. Instead he cupped the underswell, gliding his hand down to her hips. The way he looked at her set her skin on fire. Normally, this would be the point where her patience would run thin, and she’d push him back, slamming him on the bed, straddling him. Sex had always been a game in gaining power. It was like she needed to be in control in order to keep it…just sex.

  Being admired like she was the only person for a man wasn’t something she’d been used to, but she never really allowed it.

  Too intimate.

  Too real.

  Yet right now, she wanted to hang her heart out there, even if someday he broke it.

  Gently, he tugged her shirt over her head.

  She caught his gaze, expecting to see lust, but instead she saw something close to love. Impossible, but that’s exactly what her mind and body screamed. Not the desire to be with him physically and have their bodies ravished in the primal need for sex, but the desire to create something magical, even if it did end with the same physical result, but the way you got there was different.

  He smiled, as if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. Feeling.

  A quiet laugh escaped her lips.

  “It’s not going to be easy for me not to bend you over that bed and—”

  She cupped his mouth. “Don’t go and ruin the moment by putting that vision in my head.”

  He arched a brow.

  “I want you to make love to me.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. She’d never been one to separate the act of sex with making love other than most people saw some sexual acts as kinky, or not normal, where she saw all of it as an expression of caring for someone.

  Only, this felt very different.

  “I haven’t been doing that?” he asked with an inquisitive stare.

  “Maybe you have, but I’ve been making it only about sexual release, not feelings. Does that make sense?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Yeah, It does.”

  “Does that scare you?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “But your ability to go from pushing me away, to sucking me in, does.” He pressed his hands against the wall behind her.

  Resting her hands on his hips, she leaned in and kissed the center of his chest. “What scares me the most is never feeling like I do right now, here, with you, again.”

  A deep groan vibrated from his throat as he separated her lips with his tongue. His fingers curled around her neck as his thumb gently rubbed her high cheekbone.

  With her hand planted directly on the center of his chest, she felt his heartbeat, pounding in unison with hers. Wanting to feel his skin, she slowly lifted his shirt. When their lips parted, she sighed, the words they’d exchanged hanging between them, circling them, binding them, stripping her bare. Thankfully, as soon as his shirt had been tossed to the side, his hot tongue swirled around hers, sending warmth to all the right places.

  Her hand shook with uncertainty as she eased her fingers into his belt, releasing the hook. His hands held her breasts with tender care. His lips touched the side of her neck like the magic of a brush against the canvas. Her body shivered and her vision blurred.

  The room smelled like Tristan, a combination of sunshine and whiskey. A scent that could easily make her drunk.

  His hands made their way to the clasp of her bra, releasing her aching breasts. She leaned against the wall, breathless, not knowing what to do next, as if this were the very first time she’d ever been with a man. Closing her eyes, she tried to regain her control.

  “Open your eyes,” he whispered.

  Her eyes snapped to his, locking gazes as his finger traced a line from her chin, to the space between her breasts, over her stomach, stopping at the top of her shorts, before undoing them.

  She gasped when he rolled her shorts over her hips, letting them drop to the floor. Her legs felt like puddles of melting ice cream as he guided her to the bed, laying her down with loving care.

  As they removed the last few articles of clothing between them, she continued to be locked in a trance with him, unable to tear her gaze away, until he lifted her foot and kissed her ankle. His touch so affectionate. Sweet. Loving. She swallowed her breath, fighting the urge to throw up all her defenses and turn this into a session of her exerting her dominance to keep from feeling anything.

  He worked his way across every inch of her exposed body, worshiping her like a temple. A flash of haze washed over her as his hand hovered over her sex. He touched her so gently she thought she’d cry out, begging him to take her, but instead, she enjoyed the exquisite torture. Her climb up the corporate ladder required her to be somewhat ruthless. Calculating. But always in control. In the bedroom, she wanted to let her hair down and be wild, having nothing to do with love.

  She thought of love in terms of simple acts of kindness. Remember a birthday. A romantic dinner. A rose on Valentine’s Day. Things that made you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

  She never expected that sex could be so emotionally earth-shattering.

  He stroked her insides slowly, kissing her stomach as if it were her mouth, moving his way up, sucking her nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the hard nubs. His touch needy, but not urgent.

  She found herself reaching for him, thinking she wanted to devour him, make him beg for release, but when her fingers curled around him, all she wanted to do was hold him. Gently caress him. Feel his soft skin against the palm of her hands. She wanted to know him. To understand him.

  The room spun as he positioned himself between her legs, slowly entering her as if she were the only thing in his life that mattered. For a brief moment, she had no idea what to do.

  He cupped her face, pulling back. “What’s wrong?”

&n
bsp; She blinked her eyes, feeling the sting of a tear.

  “Brooke?”

  She focused on his warm eyes. Her breath coming in short pants. Her need for him so strong it stunned her, excited her, but also made her feel loved. A slow smile drew across her lips. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything is perfect.”

  He smiled, then kissed her, her tongue greeted his as heat poured out of her body. Tension building in every muscle. All her nerve endings sizzled with an electric current that seemed to be passed back and forth between their bodies until they both rocked with an uncontrollable release, shocking her. She held him tight as she convulsed underneath his weight, feeling his body tremble. Their mouths remained in a wet, passionate kiss while the aftershocks of their climaxes subsided.

  He rolled off her, but kept his arms around her. “I’d say that was mind-blowing.”

  “Oh, my, God. You couldn’t have come up with something more romantic than that?”

  He laughed. “I could have said what I was really thinking.”

  “That I’m the best lay you’ve ever had.”

  He laughed harder. “Close enough.”

  “Well, you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

  “Correction. I’m the best you’ll ever have.” He kissed her temple.

  Her heart skipped a beat at the truth she felt deep in her heart.

  The one she’d just given Tristan and she didn’t think she’d ever get it back.

  Chapter 10

  Tristan sat outside his home, eyeing Brooke, sitting at the kitchen table with Doug, not looking very happy at all when an older model SUV rolled to a stop at the end of the driveway. A man with greying hair and a slight limp made his way down the pavement with a large envelope.

  “May I help you?”

  “Are you Tristan Jordan Reid?”

  “I am.” Tristan balled his fists knowing exactly what the man’s next words were going to be.