His breath was coming in slow and deep.
Unable to help herself, she splayed her fingers wide and laid them gently on his chest, savoring the steady rise and fall of the firm muscles beneath.
He really loved her.
Never in a million years had she ever thought she'd hear Joe say that. But she had. She'd heard him shout it at her out on that beach when she'd stubbornly refused to listen to his instincts about Eddie, and then she'd heard him use the actual words as he'd begged her not to walk back inside the man's house. She'd heard him say it again as he remained by her side well into the night while she examined six patients who were so poor and so desperate that they'd sacrificed a piece of their own bodies to escape the hell they'd been forced to call home. And then she'd heard him say he loved her when he'd gently woken her after she dozed off in the van on the way home, then led her back inside the apartment, undressed her and put her to bed. Now that she thought about it, Joe had been telling he loved her for years. She just hadn't been listening.
So why had it taken her so long?
She reached up, finally giving in to the urge to smooth the dark, silky bangs from his lashes.
He stirred.
Her fingers froze as he murmured something in Spanish. She couldn't make out the words. But a second later, her heart lurched as he turned his face into her hand, his husky voice clearly breathing her name as he settled back into sleep.
That's when she knew.
The knowledge jolted straight through her, shocking her heart like a defibrillator charged to 500 joules—and then it went on to singe the very breath from her lungs.
It made perfect sense. That's why she'd finally heard what Joe had been telling her for years. Because she loved him too. She loved Joe.
Totally. Completely.
The whole damned fairy tale. The now and forever-after one—and all the other schmaltzy crap that went with it. No wonder Gray's kiss hadn't phased her. Hell, no wonder her last two lovers hadn't been able to rouse more than a half-hearted "that's nice" out of her—before, during and after. Because they weren't Joe.
She truly loved Joe. Not just as a friend, but as a man.
The man she now knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
What the heck was she supposed to do about it?
What could she do?
Her hand dropped from his bangs and landed on his arm with a thump. The same arm that was connected to the hand that was attached to her breast. His fingers tightened—and, again, he stirred. And, this time, those dark, gorgeous eyes opened…and he smiled that equally gorgeous, sleepy smile.
Oh, God, now what?
Did she just tell him?
She opened her mouth, but all that came out was an embarrassingly husky, "Hey."
It didn't matter. Because a moment later, the arm about her waist was pulling her closer—and, then, he was kissing her.
Joe was kissing her.
And, Lord, what an amazing kiss it was. Fantasy held nothing on reality. Fantasy was steamy, yes. But reality was hot, wet and so very deep. It was also instantaneous. In less than a second, Joe's very real kiss had fired every single nerve in her body, from her brain straight down to her toes. She couldn't breathe.
She didn't care.
All she could do was feel. Him. His warm hand on her waist, sliding into her panties to palm the curve of her rear, his other on her breast, cupping her right through her shirt, kneading her. His groan of frustration seared through her as he pushed at the shirt. When it didn't budge, he dragged his fingers across the fabric and popped the top two buttons before delving his hand beneath.
She shuddered as his seeking hands found her breast yet again.
Perspiration slicked her skin as he growled his approval and bent to rasp his lips down her neck. She moaned, arching into him as his fingers captured her right nipple, rubbed it, flicked it, rolled it. Squeezed.
A moment later her face flamed as she realized her outer skin wasn't the only part of her that was already slick. Her core was drenched as well, embarrassingly so. And then it didn't matter, because when he tore the sheet from between them, she realized he was as ready as she was. Sometime during the night, he must have shucked his jeans, because she could feel the force of his arousal right through his underwear.
This was no mere morning erection.
Joe was amazingly hard and gloriously thick and, this time, it was definitely because of her. He wanted her. And when he shifted her beneath him and fused his engorged shaft to her mound and began to rub firmly against her, she knew she wanted him more than she'd ever wanted another man. Any man.
And she wanted him now.
But then he was kissing her again.
He tunneled his fingers into her hair, groaning her name right before he plundered deeply, over and over. One slow, steamy, erotic kiss after another. Each one hotter and wetter than the last. In mere minutes, he'd made up for six long years of kisses to the forehead, cheeks and temple that had never really satisfied. Pure, wanton need surged through her as Joe finally broke his mouth away from hers, wrenching her shirt open and bending low to feed hungrily from her breasts.
The hell with foreplay.
He could play with her the rest of their lives if he wanted. Right now, she wanted him. Hot, raw and hard—and most importantly—inside her.
She raked her short fingernails down his waist, savoring the answering growl throbbing from his throat as she hooked her hands into the band of his underwear—but before she could plunge her fingers beneath, he stiffened. A split second later, one of his hands shot down and clamped onto her wrist, trapping it.
Trapping her.
And then his mouth disappeared.
Confused, she opened her eyes. He was looming over her now, supported by his arms as he blinked down at her. And when she caught the unmistakable streak of horror, she became even more confused.
Had she done something wrong?
She must have, because he swallowed—hard.
And then, he flushed.
"Joe?"
Another swallow, followed by an excruciatingly slow exhale. "I was…touching you."
Well, that was one hell of an understatement.
She nodded anyway. "Yeah, I know. I was there."
She waited. But…nothing. No, there was something. That damnably awkward silence that had been coming and going of late. It was back, and with a vengeance.
Why?
This time, she swallowed. "Uh…did I do something wrong?"
The jerk of his head was swift. But the horror was still there, only worse. "Madre de Dios, no. Teresa, you have done nothing improper. It is I who must apologize. I—"
"Damn it, I don't want your apology. In fact, I thought what I did want was pretty darn clear. And for a while there, it sure as heck seemed like you wanted it too."
Again, silence.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph. What was going on? He'd kissed her. Unless…did he suddenly regret it? Was that it?
Calm down. Breathe.
Whatever was wrong, they could work it out.
She inhaled deeply, trying desperately to regain control of her now thoroughly jangled nerves. Unfortunately, the motion only made things worse. Because in doing so, she realized Joe's other hand was still fused to her naked breast.
Like an idiot, she dropped her gaze.
His hand disappeared from her breast as she dragged her gaze back to his face. If anything, his dusky cheeks had turned at least two shades duskier. But he didn't look away. "Teresa, I thought… I thought I was dreaming."
That's it?
The wave of relief crashing in nearly overwhelmed her. She reached out, smoothing her fingers down his jaw, unable to prevent them from trembling with the force of it. "Well, now you know you weren't. So why don't you come back down here and we'll start over—and this time we'll finish it."
Terror. That wasn't horror streaking through his eyes now, it was sheer, blinding terror.
"Joe?"
"You're right; I don't understand. You were doing it. What's more, you wanted it. Hell, you still do. Unless you stuffed your Glock down your underwear last night, I've got a fairly hefty erection pressing into my thigh—and I think both of us understand anatomy well enough to know it isn't mine."
Another flush as Joe extricated himself from her embrace altogether. He drew the sheet up over her gaping shirt as he sat up at the edge of the bed, leaving her bereft in more ways than one. And then, "I am sorry."
Another apology.
Wonderful.
She'd received an odd comment or two in bed before, but this was the first time she'd ever gotten, "I'm sorry." To make matters worse, she could feel the heat of her own blush singeing her skin. Because as awful as this latest apology was, he meant it.
His desire might have been real, but so was his regret.
She folded her arms securely to her chest, desperately trying to contain the shame and the tears that were accompanying this latest bout of confusion. "I…th-thought you said you loved me."
He closed his eyes.
And she just died.
His face pretty much said it all, didn't it?
She might have finally realized that she loved this man with all the sap that went with it…but it turned out that wasn't the way he loved her after all. He might've been kissing and touching, and turning her on just now, but he'd been dreaming about another woman while he'd been doing it—the woman he truly loved.
Christ, what a mess she'd made of everything.
Her life, her case, their friendship.
She could feel all three crashing in around her. Crushing her.
She forced another shallow breath through her thickening throat. "I see. Well…if you'll excuse me, I…need a shower."
He grabbed her arm as she tried to scramble off the opposite side of the bed. "Tessa—"
This time, her eyes slammed shut.
A coward. That's what she was. She was nothing more than a goddamned coward. She kept her eyes closed anyway. It was the only way she could speak. "Please, I've screwed up enough for one morning. The least you could do is let me escape with what little dignity I've got left." As though there was any at all to be had in all this.
She felt his hand on her cheek, but she refused to open her eyes.
Coward or not, it was just too damned painful.
"Tessa, look at me."
Shit. She knew that tone. He wasn't letting her go until she caved.
Fine. Whatever.
She forced her eyes open, if only to get this whole humiliating fiasco over with so she could slink out of this shrinking closet of a room and find a tinier hole to crawl into. Preferably one with a lid that she could lock, just before she swallowed the key.
"Querida, you must believe me. I do love you."
Her lips twisted beneath the irony of his declaration, the pain and regret in his own eyes. "Yeah, I hear you. You love me. Apparently, just not the way I love you."
"You do not understand—"
"No. See, that's where you're wrong. I do understand. In fact, I understand all too well. Hell, I should. After all, I've known you for six years. And in all that time, you've never once made so much as a pass at me. You'd think I'd have managed to read the handwriting on the wall, because God knows, you are not a monk. Fact is, I just don't do it for you. Guess there's no mystery there. It's always been pretty clear you weren't in to breasts and butts that were too big or legs that were much too short."
"Tessa—"
She wrenched free and scrambled off the bed before he could stop her. "Don't worry about me. I'm okay. Frankly, I'm just curious. Why'd you turn down Miss San Diego anyway? After all, according to you, there's no one in your life right now. And, well—tall, blond and airy is your type. At least, that's what your usual one-night-stands tend to resemble." Something else she could never—ever—be.
When he didn't answer, she made a beeline for the bathroom door. But as she got there, she was forced to accept the fact that he hadn't even tried to follow her. Somehow, that hurt even more. Not to mention that his lack of pursuit confirmed what Gray and Nicole had said: Joe really was hung up on someone. It just wasn't her.
It was painfully clear that he still didn't want to share the truth with her either.
She managed a nod as she turned and reached for the handle to the door. "Guess I've been wrong about a lot of things where you're concerned lately. Well, good luck with…whomever. Not that you've ever needed it."
He did rise then, even reached out for her—until the phone on the nightstand rang. It was his. He stiffened, then froze altogether, obviously torn between his potential caller and her. It was almost comical.
Almost.
What the hell? Might as well help him out.
After all, what were friends for?
She forced a sunny, overblown smile she damned sure didn't feel to her lips. "Looks like your whomever's calling now. Better get it. I wouldn't want you to miss it on my account." With that, she closed the bathroom door.
And locked it.
9
She had the mother of all migraines.
Tess squinted down at the Mexican topographic map splayed out over the end of the conference table. The motion helped about as much as the sumatriptan tablet she'd swallowed twenty minutes earlier. She'd known when she'd popped it in her mouth that she should have gone straight for the injection. After all, the worst headaches of late always seemed to follow a spat with Joe.
And this one was a doozy.
Tess pressed her fingers in on her temple and drew in a series of slow steady breaths. The jackhammer in her right temple eased a bit and her vision cleared slightly. This time when she squinted, she could almost make out the tiny Spanish lettering sprayed out over the map. Almost. She gave up with a groan, closing her eyes as her head drifted down onto the map without her permission.
Where was Joe when she needed him?
She stiffened as a set of firm hands cupped her shoulders as if on cue—and then went straight to work, kneading at the knots of tension they found. As much as she wanted to pretend those hands belonged to Joe, she knew better.
Gray.
"Easy, little lady."
"Hey, Cowboy." She tried to lift her head, but he just nudged it back down. She gave up and tucked her hands beneath her forehead, surrendering to the surcease her fellow agent offered.
"Relax. Just let ol' Doc Daniels cure your ills. Or at least your headache."
Against her will—not to mention her head—she groaned at the relief that was gradually seeping in. "How'd you know?"
"Your wussy whimper. I've heard that same pitiful wail from my sister more times than I can count."
"Thanks for the honesty. You do know that if your fingers didn't feel so good, I'd belt you. For me and your sister."
His chuckle washed over her as those same fingers went to work on the base of her skull before moving smoothly around and up to her temples.
Damn, but he was good.
She groaned again.
His mouth came down to warm her right ear. "Changing your mind about that whole substitute-lover angle I suggested?"
"Not on your life."
Another chuckle. "I don't know…if you think my fingers feel good on your temples, you should feel them on your—"
She straightened. "Thanks, Gray. My head feels much better." Oddly enough, it did. The sumatriptan tablet must have kicked in after all.
She reached down and smoothed the creases from the map she'd been lying on as the man rounded the conference table.
Thankfully, Gray seemed willing to put the rest of their gaff of a dinner date behind them as he hooked his denim-clad hip up onto the edge of the table.
"From what I understand, I should be thanking you. Heard-tell you asked for me to head u
p our agency's end on this one. Appreciate it, Tess."
"Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head. You only got the job 'cause you're such a great kisser."
The grin he flashed could have sweet-talked a nun out of her habit. "Don't forget my magic hands, honey."
Tess laughed as he splayed them wide—then choked as Joe chose that moment to round the table as well. His dark blue T-shirt and jeans might have been a near match for Gray's slightly faded ones—but his expression didn't even come close.
Wonderful.
How much had he heard?
She should have known better than to put her back to the door. Unfortunately, the flurry of morning motion transiting the hallway beyond had aggravated the throbbing in her head.
Wait a minute. Why should she care what Joe thought anyway?
She waited until Joe reached Gray's side before dragging out her professional manners. "Special Agent Gray Daniels, FBI, meet Special Agent Joe Cortez, DEA."
Joe shot her another one of those smoldering looks she'd received all too often of late. "We have spoken—on the phone."
So they had.
Tess shored up her crumbling smile and plastered it back into place as the two shook hands in person. "Shall we get started then, gentlemen?"
Both men nodded.
Thankfully, Gray took the chair to her right, leaving Tess several feet of reprieve, not to mention breathing room, as Joe took the next seat down.
From the smoke lingering in Joe's gaze as it shifted past Gray's and up to hers, she knew he would have appreciated being told exactly which agent had been brought in to handle the FBI's end of this latest jurisdictional tangle before she'd been reduced to leaving a message regarding this meeting on his voicemail. She might've, too.
If Joe had bothered to stick around this morning.
She'd half-hoped, half-prayed he'd be waiting for her when she'd finally gathered up enough nerve to leave the shower. As much as she hadn't been looking forward to the added pain and humiliation, she'd decided it was best if they tried to repair the latest rent to their relationship away from the job—and definitely away from here.
No such luck. Not only had Joe been gone, he hadn't bothered to leave a note.
Again.
Just Beyond Reach Page 16