Crave: Addicted To You

by Ash Harlow

  Tonight, swimming was his meditation.

  He touched the end of the pool and turned, his legs pushing off from the wall and propelling him well up the pool before he resumed his stroke.

  For the first time in almost four years, there was that ripple of attraction toward a woman. The sort of attraction that skittered from physical to emotional and called out to his heart as it went by, asking if it would like to send a little piece along for the fairground ride.

  The sort of attraction that grew into something that made you feel awestruck and sick on alternate heartbeats. The sort of attraction that would grow to a point where breathing became a secondary concern, because simply being with that person could sustain life.

  Extreme heart sports. Wrap a bungee cord around the monster and hurl it off a bridge and it would bounce right back.

  And there were already two reasons telling him he still had time to do the right thing and shut that reactor down. One being that little issue called Emma, and the other one being—oh, yeah—making the people you care about vulnerable.

  Because Marlo doesn’t need more shit in her life.

  Idiot.

  And wasn’t that the whole point of coming to the U.S.? To do a job, alone, therefore not put anyone in danger?

  Double idiot.

  Regardless of the shutdown, it now appeared Marlo would know his entire story by mid-morning the following day. She would hear it from somebody else when it should have been him who told her.

  With the loss of Emma, Adam thought he’d found his limit, and for four years he’d taken utmost care to ensure he’d never again put himself anywhere near that boundary. Never again allow anyone to own that much influence in his life.

  He had to shut this right down while it’s still easy.

  One step back to the solid footing of the occasional tension-releasing one-night-stand was the right move. Sure, the gratification was a bit one-dimensional, physical and fleeting, but nobody got hurt, either. Sometimes solace really could be found in an anonymous warm body, for a few hours at least.

  He continued to make lengths of the pool, trying to soothe his mind and tire his body so he could get a sound night’s sleep. But his mind wouldn’t still and in an instant he was back at the bathroom door, reaching for Marlo, taking her by the arms, gently steering her out of the way while every fiber in his body wanted to maneuver her directly into the shower with him.

  Let go of the girl. If Marlo is damaged, she doesn’t need your baggage, too.

  He touched the wall again and on the next turn forced himself to swim the entire length of the pool underwater. His lungs were near bursting as he reached the end. It hurt but this physical discomfort was tangible. Something he could put a finger on and control.

  After swimming four more lengths, he turned and stayed underwater for the following two lengths, found the end for the second time and surfaced, gasping for air. That got her out of his head. Reaching for the edge of the pool, he hauled himself out and stood doubled over, hands on thighs, sucking great gulps of air while the water dripped from his body and puddled at his feet. He stayed that way until his deprived heart stopped its hammering protest against his chest wall.

  A wolf whistle caught his attention. “Need some resuscitation, big boy?” Two women were sitting on their balcony, drinks in hand. “Come on up. We’ll bring you back to life.”

  Their apartment was in semi-darkness one floor above an unlit area of the pool complex. He gave them a small wave and they beckoned eagerly.

  The sirens’ lure—those devious creatures promised the sort of enchantment of which this night he had no desire. He rumpled his hair with his fingers, shaking out as much water as possible, and headed toward his apartment. That whisky won’t have gone anywhere.

  Marlo watched Justice eat his breakfast. Since the work with Joker the other day—which proved his worthiness of the title, The Extractor—Justice had made some tremendous gains. He now stood properly and would eat his meals as Marlo watched. Yet he still wouldn’t take food from her hand. In fact, he remained quite fearful of hands and this was making his rehabilitation that much more challenging.

  Out walking on a leash, he could be easily startled although he was better if he had a calm dog to take his cues from. Sudden hand movements sent him straight back to pancake mode. Despite his age, which they reckoned to be around two years, he was really an ungainly, uneducated puppy. Albeit a fearful one.

  She would bring down Fala to check him out, once Adam was there to help. If that meeting went well, Justice could have a shot at spending the night up at the house.

  Justice came out of his kennel and trotted to the fence, his tail swinging gently in time with his gait. Adam crouched low to greet him. “Look at you, big brave guy. Have you been shaking off some of that stress?” The dog pressed up against the fence trying to get as close as possible to Adam. “You’re in luck today.” His fingers tracked along the old fighting scars that ran like an urban roadmap across the dog’s face. “Marlo’s bringing a very special lady to meet you.”

  Adam was nudged from behind and as he turned, Fala flung herself at him. “Hello, princess.” He rubbed her all over and she did her best to shower him with kisses.

  “Come on, you two, you can do the smoochy stuff later.”

  They were going to walk the leashed dogs down to the meadow. If all went well, they would release them to play. So far Justice hadn’t shown any aggression towards the other dogs. If anything, he was a little shy until he gained some confidence around them. Fala was old and a little vulnerable in the company of young boisterous dogs, but if Justice was going to have time up at the house, Marlo had to see first that they got along.

  The greeting went well. The dogs met each other first through the fence. Justice showed a lot of interest but no sign of aggression. Fala showed equal interest but soon turned back to Adam for some more petting. “Right, let’s move to the next part of the plan.” Marlo leashed Justice and she instructed Adam to start walking Fala down to the meadow.

  “What will you do if this doesn’t work, if Fala and Justice can’t get along?” The look she gave him seemed to say that not getting along wouldn’t be an option.

  For the next half an hour Marlo worked with Justice, calling instructions for Adam until she was satisfied Justice and Fala could co-exist, some distance apart, in a meadow. It took her one step closer to the goal of having the dogs in the house together.

  “That seemed to go well,” Adam suggested when they were back in Marlo’s office.

  “I’m pleased,” Marlo agreed. “I’ll raise the stakes with the two of them tomorrow. It may look as if I’m taking this slowly, but I won’t put either dog at risk. You can help again in the morning if you have time.”

  The idea of spending the morning with Marlo and the dogs was tempting. “I’d like to, but I can’t.”

  “Sure, that’s fine.” He noticed that tightening to her mouth as she dismissed him a little too quickly. She had no resilience, instead diving straight into rejection. She needed to learn how to bounce. He had noticed before that she didn’t like to ask for help, and now that she had asked, he’d turned her down. Shit.

  “I have to go to Richmond in the morning. I’m meeting up with a veterinary forensic team who are going over the farm where Justice and the others were discovered. At the time of the raid they turned up some bodies of dogs in a pit. They’re searching the property now more thoroughly. I’ve been invited to observe the operation.”

  “Ugh, I don’t think I could do that.”

  She’d relaxed a bit. Not so much a bounce-back as a slow roll, but that was a start. “Well, I’m not looking forward to it, but I need to see how they’re going to put the prosecution together. It appears a lot of dogs were killed out there. This forensics team have gone over a few of these dog fighting setups now. Being out there with them gives me the opportunity to learn what to look for beyond dogs chained to oil drums.”

  He kept watching her. She stoo
d at the sink, washing her hands, circling and wringing her fingers as if she was biding time. “Why don’t you have dinner with me in town tonight?” he asked.

  Her hands stilled under the running water. “I can’t.” She kept her back to him.

  Out came that automatic negative response that kicked in if he complimented her or tried to help her. Now it seemed she called it up for duty if he asked her to dinner. On the surface it seemed she was backing him off but he’d felt the attraction between them. “You can’t or you won’t?”

  Marlo closed off the tap with deliberation and shook the water from her hands. When she reached for the towel, he thought he saw the smallest tremor but as she faced him she appeared in total command. “Won’t.” Her mouth was firm.

  “Why is that?” He might get that wall to crack.

  She brushed aside a strand of hair. Her gaze was steady and determined and it dropped to his hands briefly when she answered. “You’re married. I don’t think dinner with you is appropriate.”

  He followed her gaze to his hands. The wedding ring. Of course. He hadn’t got around to having his neck chain fixed, so he’d left the ring on his finger. And obviously Jeff’s knowledge of him and Emma hadn’t been shared with Marlo. The time had come to give up some information.

  In any relationship you had that give and take of personal details. Some people spilled quickly, but with Marlo he saw an intense need to protect her feelings. What a delicate play, that seesaw rocking of sharing private thoughts. Each person tried to balance the tipped scales, so that no one person gave up too much, nor did the other hold too much back.

  It looked as though he’d have to blink first. He kept his voice calm, level. “Yes, Marlo, I guess I am married, in a sense. My wife, Emma, was killed, and I don’t know when, or how, to become unmarried. I’ve spent the past four years since her death trying to haul myself out of something akin to limbo. Recently I’ve begun to feel a degree of success.” Very recently.

  He took a step toward her, but she backed up. Alarm flashed across her face. She sure was uneasy around him. Jesus. He raised his hands as if in surrender and stepped out of her space. It would be good to get her away from the Sanctuary. Here, she was emotionally locked down, functioning perfectly in her work environment, but she’d made sure there was only room for one within the walls she’d built.

  “Come on, have dinner with me. There’s an Italian place in town I’ve heard good things about. What say I pick you up at seven?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You don’t like Italian?”

  A tiny smile pulled at her lips, softening her eyes. “I love Italian,” she answered slowly.

  “Brilliant. I’ll pick you up at seven.” His cell phone rang and he went outside to take the call. He was back in minutes. “I’ve got to get back to town. Seven o’clock, okay?”

  Once in his car, he hesitated before putting his key in the ignition. What the hell had happened to the resolve he’d mustered in the pool the other night? He was meant to be shutting down these emotions, not badgering her for a dinner date.

  Not a date, just a dinner.

  Marlo bent forward, as she looked into the mirror. Why had she allowed Sally and that shop assistant to bully her breasts into a bra like this? Perhaps the shoestring straps of the dress would draw eyes upwards, to her shoulders.

  Look at me all the way out of my comfort zone.

  She reached up and pulled the clasp from her hair, shaking it free. It fell about her shoulders and damn, it didn’t conceal that cleavage one bit. Her conservative self was knocking at the changing room door, trying to get her to go back to her comfortable, strap-em-down sports bra.

  The voice in her head kept up the chatter: You answer the door like that, girl, and it’ll be all, ‘Hi, Adam, meet my breasts.’ Is that what you want?

  She turned and rummaged in her makeup bag for a lipstick. Yes, Miss Prude, maybe that’s exactly what I want. Facing the mirror again, her confidence fled as she took the cap off the lipstick. She placed it on the vanity and reached behind for her dress zipper. She tugged it down and shrugged out of the dress. As she reached for the bra hooks, Sally’s voice rang in her ears. For heaven’s sake, girl, on behalf of the flat-chested women of the world, let those puppies out.

  Courage.

  She retrieved the dress from the bathroom floor and stepped back into it. She pulled her shoulders back and smiled. She looked like a woman.

  In her late childhood, when her mother’s drug dependency meant the diner jobs no longer paid enough, Marlo had watched her get ready to go out to work at night. Her dress and preparation served one purpose…to attract men. Men who would pay. Low-cut tops so constricting that her breasts spilled over the top. Short, tight skirts showing way too much of her tired, abused thighs, and enough makeup to cover her desperation in the dim light that barely illuminated her street corner workplace. And where had attracting men got her?

  It puts your food on the table, her mother used to say.

  But not until it’s fed your drug habit, Marlo would think when she got older. Often the table was bare.

  She thought of her mother’s pimp, shuddered and pushed away the memory. Nobody from the past was going to taint her evening with Adam.

  Chapter Seven

  They were seated in the restaurant’s fully enclosed courtyard, still warm despite the rapidly dipping sun. An ancient clematis twisted out of the ground, its tortured limbs clawing their way along one wall. Weathered pots spilled brilliantly colored nasturtiums, rosemary, oregano and thyme over their sides. The scent of the herbs made Marlo’s stomach tumble at the promise of well-sourced fresh food.

  Although driven by a different need, that tumble felt similar to the subtle apprehension that had fluttered within her when Adam had arrived earlier.

  She’d spent the previous hour beating down the self-limiting nag that told her in alternate breaths that she was either over- or under-dressed. That her hair would be better up or down. Or cut. Or maybe she should wear a hat? That she wore too much makeup or not enough until she’d scrubbed it all off her face only to reapply it. Ultimately the nag told her she should cancel the date. Stay home with a soda and salad.

  When she’d opened the door, she’d seen how Adam’s eyes widened and considered her for that protracted moment before he spoke. He stepped inside, right into her space and although it discomfited her at first, when he bent and brushed her cheek with his lips she was flushed with warmth. It was almost a kiss, so chaste, yet it caused that small apprehension to flourish into something that tingled and wanted his touch.

  Now here they were at the restaurant. She could probably count on a single hand how many times she’d been to a restaurant in Halo Peak. It equated roughly to the amount of dates she had been on since she’d arrived eighteen months earlier. Hell, she was hopeless at this. She should never have agreed to come.

  “Marlo, relax.”

  She tried to force a smile and realized her hands were two balled fists resting on the table. She opened them, looked at Adam, and he winked at her. “This is supposed to be fun,” he said.

  Marlo nodded and reached for her water.

  “I hate that you’re nervous around me like this. What is it? What’s causing that?”

  He was a cop and a man, and that made her wary. But it’s something else that scared her. Her body had gone off on its own program, craving Adam’s touch. Feeling out of control like this was unnerving.

  “Sorry, it’s me. It’s nothing, really. I often get a bit nervous.”

  He cocked his head. “Except I see you as a confident person. Look at how you are with the dogs and the staff at the Sanctuary. Hardly a shrinking violet.”

  “To be honest, I’m not used to being taken out for dinner.” There, she couldn’t be more honest than that.

  “I’m sure that’s not from a lack of offers.”

  Marlo shrugged. “I’m feeling a bit out of my depth.” He reached for her hand, and she snatched it away.
The move was involuntary and an embarrassing response. She murmured an apology and placed her hand back on the table, right where it had been when he reached for it, but he didn’t move to take it again. Her face was hot and she could feel heat then perspiration prickling the back of her neck. She wanted to get out of there. What an idiot for agreeing to this.

  “Marlo?”

  “Yuh?”

  “Can you look at me?”

  No, no I can’t. I can look down at the tablecloth. And the silverware. Very clean silverware. Flowers in the vase. They look like wildflowers from a meadow… pretty. Adam’s silverware is sparkling, too. He’s waiting. The longer I leave it the more awkward this is becoming. Great shirt, open neck, tanned skin. Look up at his face. She took a deep breath and lifted her gaze. “Hi,” she said. He wasn’t laughing at her, and he didn’t appear to want to make a break for the door.

  “Hi. Are you feeling better?”

  His eyes had narrowed with a small frown. He must think she’s a lunatic. “Sure, I’m feeling better.” She was relieved, as if she’d gotten back on the horse after a fall and made a safe circuit of the paddock. She sneaked another quick glance at him. Mostly, Adam appeared concerned.

  “Good, because here comes our food. I hope you’re hungry.” Adam questioned her as they ate, and Marlo was relieved that he had completely let go of the subject of her anxiety. “So what made you want to work with dogs?”

  “I met Mae as a teenager. At that time her position with CRAR was similar to the one I hold. She was managing one of their sanctuaries. She gave me work, noticed I was good with dogs, and encouraged me to study for a degree in animal behavior. After a number of years gaining experience at various CRAR rescue centers, I was lucky enough to be running Dog Haven Sanctuary. It’s CRAR’s flagship facility and once completed, the place is going to be amazing. Of course, we’ll need a lot more staff and volunteers, and I’m hoping they’ll hire a manager because I’m finding the admin work is taking up way too much of my time.” She took a sip of her wine. It matched the high quality of the food. Halo Peak might be a small town, but the regular stream of tourists ensured the local restaurants kept up their game.