by C. J. Miller
“No, no, nothing here,” Lucia said. Audrey wasn’t a gossip, but Lucia didn’t want word floating back to her parents that she’d had dinner with a man. They’d question her endlessly about him and his family and his work. Those answers would only lead to disaster. “If it’s all the same to you, please don’t mention this to your mom.”
Audrey waved her hand dismissively. “No problem. The information channel is one way, anyway. My mom talks my ear off once a week and I listen while I catch up on my mail. I’ll have my cell phone on me. Call if you need anything.”
They said their goodbyes and Audrey left. Lucia shut the door and re-enabled the alarm. The interruption had given her time to process what had happened with Cash in her bedroom. She had been at the mercy of her hormones.
Cash crossed the room. “I should be leaving, too,” he said. “It’s almost curfew.”
“I thought you were planning to sleep here,” she said. She could call Benjamin and let him know Cash was staying at her place. Benjamin was aware of how crappy the Hideaway was and wouldn’t read into Cash staying with her.
“That might not be a good idea. I have the sense that you’re not comfortable with what’s going on between us and staying here will make it harder.”
She wasn’t comfortable, but she didn’t want him to leave. “You didn’t eat,” she said.
“The food was mainly for you,” he said.
He had an hour until curfew. “Please stay and eat.”
He blew out his breath. “Lucia, this is hard for me. Being around you and seeing you and not being able to touch you is driving me crazy. I want to kiss you. I want to put my hands all over you. I want to taste you and find out what you like best and how you like it.”
His words heated her entire body. She could almost feel Cash’s tongue on her. A shudder rippled over her.
He groaned and closed his eyes. “You’re going to kill me, Lucia. I’m trying to be good and follow your rules and you’re standing in front of me, tempting me, taunting me and I am not supposed to do anything. Are you even wearing a bra?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. She had been planning to sleep and had nothing on under her shirt. “I am not taunting you,” she said, her voice quiet.
“Yes, you are. You have no idea how good you look to me.”
“That’s because you haven’t slept with a woman in four years,” she said, trying to diffuse the tension she felt. His intensity was shockingly honest and scary. Intensity directed at her.
He cupped her cheek briefly before letting his hand drop. “Tell it like it is. But Lucia, if there is one thing we have, it’s chemistry. That doesn’t happen with every woman I meet, four years of celibacy or not.”
“I see you with women. They practically crawl into your lap,” Lucia said.
Cash watched her for a long moment and she waited for him to deny it. “It’s always been easy for me to get along with women. But having a real connection with someone is rarer than you might think. It’s about the intellect and emotions and how easily she makes me laugh.”
“Physical attraction doesn’t play a part?”
He chuckled. “It does. A very big part. But a connection that’s more than about what happens between the sheets isn’t something to be dismissed easily. Even if it’s temporary or it doesn’t make sense to anyone else, those moments are exceptional.”
How did he do that? He made her feel special and feminine and powerful. Her nerves jittered, and excess energy escaped in a laugh. “We seem to end up lip-locked when we’re together, but anything more happening could jeopardize our jobs.”
“I know that. Even with jail time waving like a flag, my libido doesn’t care.” He stepped close to her, pulling her hips to his, and she felt his arousal pressing at her core.
His voice was filled with empathy and she wavered. Being in his arms felt good. He’d worked her up and she was finding it impossible to cool down and untwist the desire corded around her. “We have to work together.” The more she said it, it mattered less and less.
“I know.”
“We need boundaries.” The current ones were fading into the distance.
“My life is filled with them.”
Sympathy pricked at her. He lived with someone else’s rules. She had once lived like that and had hated it. “I’ll call Benjamin and tell him you’re staying on my couch so you don’t have to sleep at the Hideaway again.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” he said.
She did. “I guess I put more worth on my life than a few gallons of hot water and a few hours on the couch.”
“After the places I’ve been, both were heavenly. Didn’t have to wear flip-flops in the shower stall or worry about being jumped while I slept.”
She shuddered. “That’s a charming picture.”
“I could tell you stories that would blow your mind,” Cash said.
Her mind was already blown from that kiss. “I’m an FBI agent. I have heard horror stories. I don’t want to hear more.”
Her work took most of her time and until she was in this moment, she hadn’t realized how much she wanted something else in her life. She found herself confronting a strange new desire for romance and companionship.
“Then I could tell you some good stories that would make you laugh.”
“You have a way with words,” she said. But he already knew that.
“Aren’t you afraid if I stay here something will happen?” Cash asked.
She was almost sure something would happen if she let it. But she also trusted Cash not to do anything she didn’t want. “I’m in control of myself,” Lucia said, not confident in her words.
“If you can handle it, so can I,” Cash said. “I won’t pass up a night in a clean, safe place.”
* * *
When her alarm went off at seven, Lucia didn’t feel groggy despite her sleep being erratic over the last several days. Her body felt primed and tingled in the places where the Cash in her dreams had touched her. Would it be as good in real life? Based on the preview he’d given her, she guessed it would be better.
Her all-too-vivid dreams replayed through her mind. She had forgotten how it felt to be in a man’s arms and touching Cash had triggered an avalanche of sensations. Her skin acutely remembered the feel of his hard, lean body pressed to hers and wanted more.
The man’s words turned her on. His voice—the low, smooth timbre. The caress of his hand. The graze of his lips. It was as if everything he did was part of the seduction, a days-long foreplay that had her body on the edge of completion. Even when she knew this couldn’t lead anywhere good, those thoughts didn’t cool her down.
Freefalling into a relationship with him would be an even worse mess than she’d made in previous relationships. Sex, no matter how good, would not make it any easier to explain to Benjamin why she was sleeping with a teammate.
The longer she was awake, the more the dream faded, leaving a dull ache where her body was unsatisfied with the mental foreplay and no action, and her brain took over, putting her back into her unsexy state of mind.
It took her longer than usual to dress as she was careful how she moved her leg. Though she was tempted to make an excuse and skip it, brunch with her family and then attending church service was a priority. Proving to her family she was fine and recovered was top on her list.
She opened the door to her bedroom and jolted when she came face-to-face with Cash. Had she been talking aloud? Had she called out his name? Moaned in her sleep? She was loud during sex. Was she loud during sex dreams?
He held out a cup of coffee. “I heard you were up and I thought you could use this.”
She accepted the coffee and took a sip. “You don’t have to serve me.” Though it was thoughtful that he had.
“Like it?” he asked.
The scent of the coffee woke her body and the scent of Cash woke her senses. “It’s good. Thank you. Did you sleep okay?” she asked, glancing at the couch. He’d folded the blanket and laid it on the pillow like the perfect houseguest.
“Very well. What about you?”
The glimmer in his eye had her nervous that she had called out his name. She rushed to get out of the condo and away from his gaze. “Yes. Good. Thanks. Right.” She scuffed past him. “I hate to be rude, but I’m in a hurry this morning. My family’s weekly brunch is Sunday morning, nine a.m. sharp.”
“I’ll come with you and make sure you arrive safely,” Cash said.
If her family saw Cash, it would bring a world of questions slamming into her. She would have enough questions to answer about her injury. “The squad car outside will follow me.”
Cash pressed his lips together. “I embarrass you.”
That wasn’t true at all. “No, my parents are relentless about digging into my personal life. I won’t give them fuel for that fire.”
His shoulders had lowered. “Thanks for the place to crash.”
“Please, don’t mention it.” She wanted to explain more, but guessed it wouldn’t help. Had she hurt his feelings or was she misreading him? It was the last night they would spend together. Maybe if she put some distance between them, their attraction would flitter away. She could talk to Benjamin about sending her into the field with another agent.
Lucia drove the forty-five minutes to her parents’ home in suburban Maryland, followed by the police cruiser assigned to watch over her. By the end of the drive, her leg was aching and she’d had too much time to think, mostly about Cash, but also about who could be targeting her.
She could imagine her parents’ neighbors now, gossiping about a police cruiser parked outside the Huntington home. Lucia shook off the thoughts. She’d given up caring about being the subject of gossip and the butt of jokes long ago. She parked behind the cars belonging to her sisters and brothers-in-law. Her heart clenched at the sight of Bradley’s red sport car.
Bradley had been married to her sister for seven years. Lucia hadn’t even dated him that long, but he’d cheated on her with her sister and that was a bitter pill to swallow. Embarrassment, hurt, betrayal and a touch of anger nipped at her even when she tried to pretend it didn’t matter.
She used her key to open the front door and walked inside, working to hide her limp.
She met her family in the morning room, where they had brunch laid out buffet style. Her mother brightened when she saw her, and her sisters Chloe and Meg, appeared surprised. Alistair and Bradley, their husbands, appeared bored. Typical family meal.
“We were beginning to think you wouldn’t make it,” her mother said.
She’d told her father she would. “I’m sorry I’m late.” Ten minutes wasn’t a big deal, but her parents preferred her to be punctual. It was another unwritten Huntington family rule and one that Lucia couldn’t always follow.
“We’ve invited some friends to join us this morning. I hope you don’t mind. They’ll be here soon,” her mother said.
Her parents often asked her father’s business partners and friends to join their Sunday gatherings. Sometimes, they turned into bigger events than brunch and a church service.
When she was a girl, Lucia had hated Sunday social visits. She’d often felt awkward, as if she couldn’t say or do the right thing. As a teenager, once she was a dateable age, she had despised the gatherings. Every week was a chance for her to meet someone’s son or worry about wearing the latest fashion and keeping up with the trends of her peers, something she hadn’t been good at doing. She didn’t fit in. When she was old enough, her parents had been bent on introducing her to the right men and that hadn’t worked out, either.
None of them, not even Bradley, had gotten Lucia half as excited as Cash had the night before. Her parents wouldn’t approve, even though, unlike her, Cash was a social chameleon and would fit in as long as no one asked him about his past. He had a way of setting people at ease, of creating camaraderie with other men and casually flirting with women. Conversation flowed with him. He got along with every member of their FBI team in a way she hadn’t mastered.
He had even made her feel special, as though they had a bond. Thinking about Cash made her feel as if she had a secret, something special that only she knew. Her “secret” would carry her through this meal.
Lucia took a seat and poured herself a cup of tea. She listened to the conversation, but didn’t have much to say. Her parents’ butler ushered in three people at 9:30.
Lucia’s heart fell when she laid eyes her family’s invited guests, one of her father’s partners at his law firm, his wife and their son. Their thirty-something son had the look of an investment banker. He wore a perfectly fitting custom-made suit, smiling as his gaze lingered on her.
A setup. If she hadn’t been in an accident recently, she might have smelled it before it was in front of her. She blamed the lingering effects of the pain medication for dulling her senses. It made it doubly embarrassing when a setup played out in front of Bradley. It was as if her entire family, Bradley and her sister included, thought she was too much of a loser to find her own dates.
It wasn’t that she was a loser. She hadn’t put much effort into finding a man. She didn’t have time. The men she had brought to family occasions were met with disapproval, so she stopped bothering.
“Lucia, you remember the Bradshaws, Blair and Tom and their son Camden.”
She didn’t remember them, but she was too polite to contradict her mother. Lucia tamped down her frustration. It wasn’t Camden’s fault he’d walked into one of her parents’ traps. Though it stung, she kept a smile on her face.
After making a round of introductions, Camden was escorted to the empty seat next to her. Subtle.
“Lucia, it’s been a number of years since you’ve seen Camden,” Blair said.
She felt like everyone was expecting her to say something. “How is work, Camden?”
It was a boring question that deserved a boring answer, but Lucia couldn’t think of what else to ask. Her parents would be mortified if she was rude, and she was trying to smooth things over with them after the car bombing. They were on the edge of riding her case again about being an FBI agent. Given the problems she’d had in her career, she didn’t know how much more energy she had to defend her job.
“I’ve recently made partner at my uncle’s law firm,” Camden said.
She’d been wrong. He wasn’t an investment banker. He was a lawyer. Both career paths amounted to the same thing to her. School ties, Ivy League education, a master’s degree, a house in an exclusive part of town and season tickets to the opera and symphony. “Congratulations.” She put effort into sounding sincere.
“What about you, Lucia? Your mother tells me you’ve moved to a new condominium,” Blair said.
The question and follow-up comment grated her. True to form, her mother likely glossed over her working for the FBI and had spun the situation to sound as if Lucia was spending her days tending to an herb garden or redecorating her home.
“My place is close to work. Great commute. I’ve gotten a new position at the FBI,” she said. She might as well put it out in the open that she wasn’t like her mother or her sisters. She had career ambitions that didn’t include managing a household and arranging parties.
Blair inclined her head in confusion. “Are you a secretary?”
The question was blatantly sexist and spoke to a different way of thinking. Could a woman only be a secretary or housewife in her parents’ world? “I’m assistant special agent in charge.” She trotted out her title for impact and worked to keep the censure out of her voice.
Camden leaned in. “I didn’t realize you worked for the FBI.” Genuine interest thickened his voice and it voided
her irritation with him. “Do you like working there?”
Around the table, her family cringed. They preferred it when she didn’t talk about her job.
Lately, she hadn’t liked it. It was long hours, no recognition and it felt as if she was being sidelined with administrative duties as a punishment for succeeding in violent crime as a woman. Because she refused to miss out on field work, she saved the admin work for nights and weekends. “Most days, it’s interesting. Of course, it’s scary when someone puts a bomb in my car or tries to smother me in my sleep.” Her mother and sister’s jaw slackened and her brothers-in-law appeared amused. The comment about being a secretary had annoyed her and she had lashed out.
Bradley rolled his eyes. Lucia was feeling smug at having annoyed him until she saw the anger on her father’s face. Why had she let her mouth run off? She wasn’t like this at work. Her family brought out the impulsive teenager in her.
“Sounds...interesting,” Blair said.
Lucia’s mother skillfully turned the conversation to other topics and Lucia’s work wasn’t mentioned again. When they left for church, it was clear that Lucia had earned the silent treatment from her father.
It wasn’t the flippant comment. Her father disapproved of every decision she had made in the last seven years, and now that something bad had happened he wanted to use it to twist her arm and force her to quit.
Lucia wasn’t a quitter. Not bothering to explain the uniformed police officer who followed them to the church, Lucia sat through the service and made a flimsy excuse about needing to return home to rest. In deference to her father, she didn’t mention that her leg was throbbing. She said goodbye to her family, shook Camden’s hand and returned to her car.
“Lucia,” her father called out as he jogged over to her. “Why are you in a hurry to leave?”
They were the first words he’d spoken to her since she’d mentioned the car bomb. “My leg hurts. I want to go home.” Why did he want her to stay? So he could ignore her?
Her father’s irritated look saddened her. She had tried to be a daughter who made him proud. She’d failed.