Shotgun Baby

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Of course it hadn’t all been Boyer’s doing. Some of it had been pure luck. If Martin hadn’t been on to his son, if he hadn’t sent his hit man to take out Boyer at the exact moment Con was there, Con might not have put it all together so fast. But he’d recognized Perez. He’d just been a little surprised to see him alive, since the guy had been reportedly killed in a prison riot earlier in the summer.

  Robbie’s car was in the garage when he pulled in. Tired as he was, he was glad to see it there.

  She was sitting at the breakfast bar when he entered the kitchen, an open pack of his cigarettes on the counter. Judging by the ashtray in front of her, she’d smoked at least half the pack.

  His gaze went to her face.

  Her cheeks were devoid of color. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she’d been crying. And they were wary.

  “Hi,” he said, still standing there staring at her. He didn’t know what else to do.

  “Hi.”

  “You have dinner yet?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  His exhaustion lifted a little. It was still a novel experience coming home from a hard day to find someone waiting for him. Anyone waiting. But especially Robbie. “You heard?” he said.

  He hadn’t needed to ask. It was obvious she’d been worried as hell. It was written all over her face. “Yeah. I was at the station when it came in over the radio.”

  Con walked toward her, dropping his keys on the counter, then lighting himself a cigarette when she continued to watch him. What did she want from him?

  “Boyer was Martin’s illegitimate son,” he said.

  She nodded, but didn’t seem to want to hear any more. “How’s your eye?”

  The intensity of her gaze had him on his guard. Where was his hotshot reporter? The one who fired questions faster than he could answer them?

  “Sore.”

  “You’re gonna have quite a shiner by morning.”

  Con nodded, still watching her. She seemed so calm sitting there, but he sensed something roiling under the surface. He just couldn’t fathom what it was.

  She sat there for another moment and then ground out her cigarette and stood up. “Dammit, Con!” she yelled, all traces of calm gone. “Why in hell did you go in there alone? You have a family now! People who need you! How dare you do that to Joey?”

  Her words took Con totally by surprise. His life, or death, had never mattered before. “It was going to be a piece of cake,” he said.

  “It doesn’t matter what it was going to be! What matters is what was. When they said shots were fired, I thought you’d been killed, Con!”

  There were tears in her voice.

  “My job’s dangerous. You’ve always known that.”

  “But you could have lessened the danger just by having someone else with you.”

  “We had a better shot of getting Boyer to talk if I went in alone.”

  “And your life was worth getting some rotten punk to talk? Damn you! Damn you to hell!”

  In that second their whole relationship changed. Robbie had always cared about him, just as he’d cared about her—but without expectations, without investing more than they could afford to lose.

  But Robbie was acting as if she’d almost lost something that would have mattered.

  Reacting purely on instinct, he pulled her into his arms, holding her against his chest. “I’m sorry, Rob.”

  She shuddered, squeezing him tightly. “It was stupid, Con. Stupid to go in there alone. Joey needs you,” she said, her words muffled against him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. He’d never had anyone who cared before, never had anyone to consider when he went to work. “I’ll send someone else next time.”

  And he would, if he had any choice at all. Because it mattered. For the first time in his life he mattered to someone.

  She looked up at him, her grin a little wobbly. “It’s just a good thing you made it back okay. I didn’t want to have to kill you for screwing up.”

  She was better.

  He should let her go. He smiled at her, instead.

  “He really got you good,” she said, running her fingers softly along the tender skin beneath his right eye.

  “I got him better.”

  “I’m sure you did.”

  They continued to gaze deeply into each other’s eyes, assessing, wondering about things that hadn’t been said. And slowly Robbie’s eyes took on a light he’d never seen in them before. Determined, hungry and all woman.

  “I’m sure you did,” she said again softly. Then, hooking her hand around his neck, she pulled him gently down until his lips met hers.

  There was passion in her kiss, kindling an answering passion in him, but there was something else, something Con craved even more. He followed her lead, opening his mouth to explore her sweetness.

  The instant their tongues met, sweetness and what-ever else he’d been seeking was forgotten. Everything was forgotten but the flames spreading through his body. He’d been living with her for weeks, listening to her shower and dress, undress and shower, climb into bed. He could no longer pretend he didn’t want her with every fiber of his being.

  His need drove him, deepening the kiss as his body hardened against hers.

  His hands spread across her back, spanning her waist. His wife’s waist.

  She whimpered, but when he lifted his head she pulled it right back down, thrusting her tongue against his again. She wasn’t letting him go.

  His fingers slid lower, over the curves of her hips, down to cup her bottom. He was afraid he was going to explode. She was glorious. So much a woman. Firing him to the point of insanity.

  So damn bold.

  So Robbie.

  Con jerked away from her, holding his hands up as if they didn’t belong to him, as if he wasn’t responsible for what they’d done. Where they’d been.

  “Hell,” he swore, turning away. He leaned one hand on the breakfast bar, studying the pattern in the ceramic tiles.

  He’d made a promise. And he’d made it for a damn good reason. Because as badly as he wanted her, he couldn’t have her. He couldn’t reduce what they’d spent most of their lives building to a few minutes of sex.

  Because that was all it would be. All it could ever be with him. A few minutes of sex.

  But it was equally obvious that they weren’t going to be able to continue on as they were. For whatever reason, his damn libido had decided to notice Robbie after all these years. The simple truth was, he wanted her so badly he couldn’t trust himself to stay away from her.

  “We’re going to have to end this marriage,” he said, thinking out loud. It was the only solution. And he’d get used to the idea. He wouldn’t hate it so much once he’d had some sleep. He was just worn-out.

  Not saying a word, she stared at him, her eyes filled with pain. A raw naked pain he’d never seen there before. Damn. It might already be too late. He might already have lost her.

  “I’ll see to it in the morning,” he said, brushing past her. He was in for one helluva long night.

  “What about Joey?”

  Her question stopped him. He turned around and stared at her, too tired to come up with any more answers, to make sense of anything. Could he continue to use Robbie to get his son? Was he really going to get his man, his boy, rather, at any cost?

  “We can’t lose him, Con. Not when we’re this close.”

  “The marriage will have to end, Robbie,” he said. There was no way he could last a lifetime of living with her and not touching her. And after he’d had her, he’d have killed the one good thing he’d ever had going for him.

  She nodded, swallowing back tears. “But after we get Joey.”

  If they got Joey. He needed to tell her about Cecily, too, about the newest strike against him, but right now he was just too damned tired.

  “The court date’s in less than two weeks,” she said when he remained silent.

  Surely he could keep his fly
done up for two more weeks. “Fine.”

  She bowed her head, and as much as he wanted to, Con couldn’t just walk away from her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Don’t be.” Her head shot up. “I don’t blame you, Con. You can’t help the way you feel any more than I can help what I am.”

  He frowned at the strange tone in her voice.

  “What you are?”

  “Too aggressive, bossy. It’s a turnoff. I under-stand.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “It’s what I know,” Robbie said. She’d blown it. And the only way she could see to salvage anything between them was just to get the problem out in the open. Maybe if they could talk about it, they could put it behind them. Maybe, someday, they could be friends again.

  “You’re nuts.” Con was scowling at her, his face lined with fatigue.

  “Let’s just call it like it is and be done with it, Con. Twenty-five years of friendship allows that, at least, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, suddenly wary.

  “Look. This isn’t the first time this has happened to me and it’s probably not going to be the last. Why do you think I’m thirty-three years old and still not married?”

  “You’re married.”

  Robbie knew he was trying to spare her feelings, but he was only making things worse. She waved her hand dismissively. “I know all about it, Con. I’ve been told a number of times that if I’d only let a man be the man, I’d have a lot more luck getting one. My father warned me about my aggressive behavior the day I told him you and I were getting married. And I even overheard the guys at work talking about it.”

  “Talking about what?”

  Robbie wanted to curl up and die, but she had to get through this. She’d never forgive herself if she couldn’t at least salvage a friendship with Con.

  “How going to bed with me would be nothing but a turnoff,” she replied quickly, trying to sound as if she didn’t care. “And the thing is, I understand. I really do. I’m aggressive. I take control. I’m bossy, even in bed. I like to be on top,” she confessed, her voice breaking in spite of her attempts to control it.

  “What?”

  “It’s okay, Con, really. I am who I am. I’m not willing to change that. So you see, the choice really is mine.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being on top,” he said, hauling her against him.

  Robbie fought him for all she was worth, pushing against his iron grasp. She didn’t want him to touch her. Not now. Not like this. Not in pity.

  “You got it wrong, babe, so damn wrong,” he said, controlling her with very little effort.

  “It’s OK, Con. You don’t have to lie to me,” she said, going still in his arms. But she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She didn’t trust herself not to settle for whatever crumbs he might throw her.

  “I wish I was lying,” he said harshly, grabbing her hand and putting it against his groin. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me. And I don’t know where you learned about sex, babe, but that isn’t what I’d call a turnoff.”

  Robbie’s hand cupped him. She shouldn’t, she was making a huge mistake, but she couldn’t stop herself. She had to feel him. Just once.

  “It’s been a while since you’ve had a woman,” she said, reminding herself of the fact even while she ran her hand along the length of him. Oh, Lord, he was marvelous.

  He didn’t stop her. “It’s you, Rob. All you.”

  She dropped her hand. “Maybe. I doubt it.”

  “Tell my body that,” he said derisively.

  Something in his tone, in the desperate look in his eyes, got through to her. But still, she couldn’t quite believe. “It’s only until I do something that turns you off.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything you could do to turn me off,” he said. “And God help me, I don’t think there’s any way I can resist, either. I gotta take you to bed, Rob. Now.”

  She wished he sounded happier about the prospect, but she was suddenly too needy to care. She could have lost him today. Her body, her heart, was starved for him. She couldn’t pull away when he grabbed her hand and hauled her down the hall to his bedroom.

  CON WASN’T a gentle lover. He wasn’t a slow one, either. He fell with her to the bed immediately, his mouth covering hers even before she caught her breath. He rolled on top of her, his arms on either side of her head as he plundered her mouth, demanding everything she had.

  His urgency fueled her, allowing her to be as wild with her passion as her nature demanded. Crazy with her unexpected freedom, she ran her hands all over him, touching him as she’d been dying to do for years. His body was rock solid. Everywhere. He was everywhere.

  His huge hands spanned her body, making her feel fragile for the first time in her life. Fragile in a good way. A precious way.

  He touched her face, her shoulders, her back, her buttocks again, pulling her against him, holding her right where she wanted to be. And then his hands were under her T-shirt, under her bra, cupping her breasts.

  Robbie would gladly have died right then and there so perfect was the moment.

  Except that Con had other plans.

  He yanked her shorts down over her hips, pulled his slacks only as far as his thighs and positioned himself above her.

  “You’re a little hampered, there,” Robbie said with a wobbly smile. She couldn’t believe how nervous she was all of a sudden, or how glad that he wanted her this much. “Why not let me take it from here?”

  She rolled over and straddled him, sitting above his rigid length. Con completed their union with one hard thrust.

  And then brought her to an incredible climax. As she exploded around him, Robbie knew her life was never going to be the same again. There’d be no going back. No reclaiming what was hers. She’d just given herself utterly to him.

  “God, you’re good,” Con said, his voice rough as he thrust again. His eyes were closed, his face a study of concentration.

  “So good,” he said, shuddering when he finally poured himself into her.

  Robbie’s heart soared as she watched him, as she went with him to paradise.

  But the journey was far too short. When Con opened his eyes there was no love there, no warmth. Just the look of a satisfied male. The same impersonal look he might have given a stranger he’d happened to have sex with.

  He rolled away almost immediately, then stood to yank his pants back up and fasten them. He still had his jacket on, his tie only slightly askew.

  “I hope I convinced you,” he said before he turned and left the room. A moment later she heard him leave the house.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE PHONE WOKE Robbie from a troubled sleep early the next morning. She didn’t even know Con was in the house until she heard him answer it. He hadn’t yet returned home when she’d finally gone to bed sometime after three o’clock in the morning.

  She hated herself for the relief she felt.

  Con was nothing to her, she reminded herself. Twenty years of infatuation was over. Dead.

  Though the night she had just spent had been the worst in her life, in a way she was grateful to Con. In less than half an hour, he’d cured her of a lifelong obsession. Because as good as her time in his arms had been, it wasn’t anything she wanted to repeat. She’d rather live the rest of her life celibate than let Con touch her again under those terms.

  She’d made love to him. She’d given him every-thing, her passion, her heart, her innermost being. She’d trusted him.

  He’d had sex.

  She’d showered twice after he’d gone, but she hadn’t been able to erase the feel of him from her body.

  “Robbie?” he called from just outside her door.

  She pulled the covers up over her breasts, smoothing down the hair that she was sure was sticking up all over her head. “Yeah?”

  She didn’t want him to see her, didn’t want to see him. She could hardly bear her memories of last night
.

  He opened the door, but she could have been a cleaner mopping the floor for all the notice he took of her.

  “That was Karen Smith. The hearing’s been moved up to this Monday at nine.”

  Monday at nine? She sat up. Something far more important than the last twenty-four hours was suddenly at stake. Joey. Did it have to be so soon? Were they ready? “Do we still get him today?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I’m picking him up at four. Meet me here at three if you want to go along.”

  “Sure.” Was this stranger the same man who’d swept her off to bed less than twelve hours before? Was he just going to pretend it had never happened?

  “We still have to take him back on Sunday,” he said. She watched him standing in her doorway and had a sudden vision of how he’d looked as she climbed astride him the night before.

  Licking dry lips, she said, “I figured. But we get him back right away again Monday morning if the judge gives us placement, right?”

  Con nodded. He hesitated as if there was more he wanted to say, and she held her breath. Could he somehow take away the terrible heartache he’d left when he’d walked out on her last night?

  Could he explain why he’d treated her like a whore?

  “See you at three,” he said, and left.

  Damn him to hell for not loving me.

  Robbie damned the foolish tears that fell, too, as she rolled over and buried her face in the pillow.

  SHE COULDN’T HATE HIM any more than he hated himself. But that didn’t stop his gut from clenching, didn’t stop him from hurting, when she avoided his touch as he opened the car door for her that afternoon. Nor did he hurt any less when she couldn’t look at him.

  He slammed the door after her, knowing he was getting what he deserved. He’d screwed her. And by doing so, he’d screwed them both. Right out of the best friendship, the only friendship, he’d ever had. Stan had been right—that simply by being with him Robbie was bound to be hurt sooner or later. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  Except be glad she hated him. She wasn’t going to have any trouble getting on with her life once Joey’s future had been decided. Con just wasn’t so sure what he’d have left of his own.