Gotcha!

by Christie Craig

  Then came his gun. Though gently placed, it clacked against her nightstand. Her nightstand, her bedroom, his pocket contents and gun, as if…

  He unbuttoned his blue shirt and tossed it onto her dresser. Her dresser. His shirt.

  She blinked. The man looked downright edible without a shirt. The golden hue of the lamplight showcased his warm, melt-against-me skin. His chest, dusted with dark hair, appeared even more muscular without a shirt stretched across it.

  An innie belly button, the cutest little dimple she’d ever seen, was centered among hard abs. His jeans fit snug around his narrow waist, and a trail of hair disappeared under the snap of his jeans. A treasure trail—wasn’t that what the thin spray was called? Because it led to…

  He unsnapped those jeans. His thumb and forefinger pinched at his fly, ready to unzip and unleash the treasure.

  Her gaze shot up and found him studying her. “Uh, what are you doing?” she asked.

  “I got on boxers,” he said. His cocky grin proved he’d noted her feminine appreciation.

  She tried to wipe all approval from her expression. “Okay, I had you down for a white briefs kind of guy, but you don’t have to prove me wrong.” She sat the rest of the way up. “Now back to my original question. What are you doing?”

  “Getting in bed.” He heel-kicked off his shoes.

  She pointed to her bedroom door. “The sofa is thataway, big boy.”

  He picked up the folded piece of paper from the nightstand and handed it to her. “Doctor’s orders. I’m to wake you up on the hour, every hour, and keep a very close eye on you. Hard to do if I’m sleeping in there.”

  He unzipped. The jeans dropped and a well-filled pair of navy-and-white-striped boxers drew her gaze. Thank God they had buttons, because something looked ready to come out and play.

  Macy yanked her gaze up, and Jake pulled back the comforter. “You really need new pillows.”

  She fought a thrill. “What I need is for you to get out of my bed.”

  “It’s not up for debate.” He switched off the lamp. The darkness added more intimacy. “I’ll wake you in an hour.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Nothing is going to happen. Think of me as your doctor.”

  “My doctor doesn’t strip down to his Skivvies and crawl in bed with me.”

  “Okay.” There was a teasing quality to his tone. “I’m a doctor that comes with perks, but I don’t charge extra.” He let out a deep sigh. “Now go to sleep and quit talking about sex before you get me worked up.”

  “I wasn’t talking…I’m not sleeping next to you with nothing but a thin piece of cotton between me and—and your best friend.”

  He let a loud laugh. “He could be your best friend, too.” He rolled to his side, facing her, and propped himself on his elbow. “Nothing’s going to happen, Pizza Girl. Promise.”

  She blinked, her eyes adjusted to the low light.

  His chest was close enough that she could feel the heat from his body. “I’m not having sex with you,” she blurted. She couldn’t have sex with him. And thank God she really meant it, because it was the wrong time of the month.

  “You’re right. Tonight we’re not having sex. Now go to sleep.”

  “We’re not having sex tomorrow night either.” It would be two or three more days before she could even consider it, and hopefully, if God was on her side—and please, please let Him be—she would have found her runaway willpower by then.

  He laughed again. “Okay, we’ll shoot for Monday or Tuesday.”

  “Hmm, let me check my mental when-I-will-have-sex-with-you calendar.” She pressed a finger to her temple. “Nope. Tuesday’s out.”

  He didn’t move. He just lay there, looking way too sexy, but at least he’d stopped smiling. “He really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

  She knew he referred to Tom, but it was her turn for silence. Falling back onto her pillow, she stared silently at the ceiling. Elvis leapt up on the bed, then jumped off.

  “Crappers. I forgot to feed him,” she muttered.

  He caught her hand as she struggled to rise. “I did it.”

  “You fed my cat?” And why did his hand feel so good?

  “I did it when I was fixing dinner.”

  Elvis hissed from below. Macy closed her eyes.

  Jake gave her fingers a squeeze. “What happened?”

  Macy laughed quietly. “He’s upset because you’re in his bed.”

  “I mean with your ex. What did he do besides cheat on you?”

  Cheating wasn’t enough? But deep down, she knew there was more. Tom’s sin had not only shaken her weak belief in men; it had shaken her belief in herself. The situation had proven just how much like her mother she really was.

  The cat meowed. Macy’s eyes opened, but her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. “Elvis wants his spot back.”

  “Come on. Talk to me.”

  She cut her eyes toward him and pulled her hand away. “Some subjects don’t warrant talking about.” And just in case he didn’t recognize his own words, she added, “You should understand. You’re the one who prefers to keep your secrets to yourself.”

  “What secrets?” he asked.

  “I asked you earlier who you’d taken care of, remember? And you said, ‘Some subjects don’t warrant talking about.’ ”

  “What does that have to do with us having sex?”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “Then why bring it up? We were talking about why you won’t have sex with me!”

  He confused her. “I’m just saying that, for a guy who doesn’t want to share anything about himself, you sure do expect others to share.” She paused. “And I don’t have to tell you why I won’t have sex with you.”

  “So I’m not the only one who’s keeping secrets.” He dropped back on the bed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Jake couldn’t sleep. First, the damn cat kept hissing at him. Second, he could smell Macy, the citrus of her hair products, the musky scent that was purely her…and every instinct screamed for him to roll over and introduce her to his “best friend.” A few kisses on the sweet curve of her neck—she’d seemed to like that earlier—a hand passed slowly over her breasts to tease her nipples, a knee gently nudged between her soft thighs, and she’d cave. Macy wanted him. He knew and felt it with every surge of his blood—blood that right now was giving him the hard-on of the century.

  Just in case she was still awake, he bent his knee to hide the tent pitched in the covers by his arousal. He looked at her. She lay on her back, looking angelic and asleep. Damn, he wanted her. But only a real cad would seduce a woman who had a concussion. He wasn’t a cad. He was the decent, law-abiding son of a Baptist preacher.

  But why the hell did she insist on not getting involved?

  I’m just saying that, for a guy who doesn’t want to share anything about himself, you sure do expect others to share. Her words replayed in his head. He vaguely recalled Lisa saying much the same thing. Didn’t women know that men didn’t enjoy spilling their guts?

  His watch beeped, announcing it was one a.m. “Hey, Pizza Girl?” He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek.

  “No sex,” she whispered.

  He chuckled. “I’m going to turn on the lights and check your eyes. Okay?”

  “Bad idea.” She pulled the blanket over her head.

  He switched on the lamp. Then, tugging the blanket down, he kissed her nose. “Sleepyhead, open your eyes and look at me.”

  “I already know what you look like. You took your clothes off in front of me, remember?”

  “And what do I look like?” he asked, remembering her appreciation.

  “Like a man who won’t talk about himself.”

  “So, this sharing thing is why you won’t have sex with me?”

  She opened her eyes. He leaned in to check her pupils, and her hand shot up to stop him.

  Catching her hand, he frowned. “I’m just checking your eyes.” He gazed deeply i
nto those soft baby blues. Her pupils were the same size. Her lashes were long, her nose adorable. Her lips…“Now I want to kiss you.”

  She jerked the blanket back over her face.

  “I guess that’s a no, huh?” After setting his watch alarm again, he cut off the light and went back to staring at the ceiling.

  Macy shifted beside him. “It was your wife, wasn’t it? Who you took care of?”

  “I told you I’d never been married.”

  “And men don’t lie?”

  “I haven’t lied to you.” He looked from the ceiling to her. Why the hell she needed to know about this was beyond him. She didn’t need to know. He shouldn’t have to tell her. But…

  “My dad.”

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Cancer.”

  “Did he pull through?”

  “No.” Some memories were better left alone.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She settled back on her pillow. He continued to stare at the ceiling.

  “It was two years ago. I’m fine,” he finally said.

  She moved an inch nearer, and he wondered if she realized. “Were you close?”

  “Yeah. We were different, but we respected each other.”

  “How were you different?”

  Jake considered his answer. “He was a rule follower. Saw everything in black and white.”

  “And you aren’t?” Disbelief rang in her voice. “You’re a cop. I’d say you expect people to follow the rules.”

  “Those are laws. That’s different.”

  “So what kind of rules did he follow?”

  “Religious beliefs,” he replied.

  “Oh.” Macy’s hand dropped. It brushed his arm. “I’m assuming he wasn’t Catholic?”

  Jake heard the hint of humor in her voice, and remembered her whole nun charade. He turned his hand over and wrapped her fingers in his palm. “Baptist. Not a Bible-thumper—he just looked to God to solve everything. Even if it meant taking handouts.”

  “And who do you look to?” she asked.

  “Myself.”

  “So you’re an atheist who doesn’t believe in taking or giving handouts.”

  “I’m not against helping people,” he argued. “I just prefer to take care of myself.” Silence filled the room. “And I’m not an atheist. It’s just…My father suffered more than any man should have been allowed. For a while I told myself I didn’t believe in God. Then I realized that you don’t get that angry at someone you don’t believe in. So, yeah, I believe. I just don’t think He’s trying to solve my problems. He sure as hell wasn’t watching out for my ol’ man.”

  “I’m sorry,” Macy repeated in a voice that held no judgment. “I can’t imagine losing someone I love to something like that.”

  He threaded his fingers through hers. Thoughts of his father whisked through his head. Good thoughts. “He would have liked you.”

  “Because I’m going to be a Methodist nun?” she offered.

  He chuckled. “He was a do-gooder like you.”

  “I’m not a do-gooder.” She sounded offended.

  “You volunteer at the garden, and didn’t you say you volunteer at shelters?”

  “That doesn’t make me a do-gooder! I just like staying busy.”

  “Most people take a class or buy a book. They don’t try to find ways to help others.”

  “It still doesn’t make me a do-gooder. And I do read.”

  “So you’re a humble, literate do-gooder.” He chuckled. “But that’s not the only reason my dad would’ve liked you. He had a wicked sense of humor. He loved to tease and be teased.” Something he and his dad had in common, Jake realized. “He was a good man. That last month we talked more than ever. Even when he was hurting like hell, he loved to laugh.”

  “Then maybe that last month wasn’t all bad.” She gave his hand a squeeze.

  Her words gave Jake pause. For two years he had refused to mentally revisit that time, worked hard not to remember. It never occurred to him until now that by blocking out those memories, he’d neglected to remember the good.

  He turned his head and met Macy’s gaze. “What about your dad?”

  “He left,” she said matter-of-factly. She tried to pull her hand away, but he held on.

  “That must have stung.”

  “Please. His leaving was the best birthday present I ever got.”

  “He left on your birthday?” Damn.

  “Yeah. But really it—”

  “How old were you?”

  “Twelve.”

  “Shit.” He rested their locked hands on his chest, loving how her skin felt against him.

  “He did us a favor by leaving.”

  “How’s that?”

  “He didn’t want to be there.” From the way she said it, he knew there was more to it. But unlike her, he wouldn’t push. Not that he regretted telling Macy about his dad. But still.

  Her hand shifted just a bit south, and his mind carried her touch lower. The blanket started to rise again. He bent his knee to hide it. “You’d better get some sleep.” He let go of her hand, even though letting go was the last thing he wanted.

  She rolled over, and he heard her sigh. “I keep thinking about Billy.”

  “I know.” He reached over and touched her hair. God, it was soft. “He’s lucky that you care so much.”

  Billy stepped onto Andy’s wobbly porch around two a.m. He’d gone back to Girls Galore and driven around for an hour. No Tanks. He’d screwed up, let the bastard get away.

  He pushed open the door, and Andy’s dog growled from the back bedroom. Ellie slept on the sofa, perched on her side, her palms together, hands tucked beneath her cheek. The phone conversation he’d overheard was burned into his mind, yet denial begged to be embraced. He studied her. She wore a pink nightshirt with the word Angel printed across the front. And damn if she didn’t look like one. Why had she been talking to Tanks?

  “You’re here.” Her voice was sleepy but warm.

  “We’ve got to talk.”

  She sat up. “What happened?”

  “You called Tanks.” It came out as an accusation.

  Her brow furrowed. “Me?”

  “Yeah.” He dropped his gun on the coffee table.

  “No. I didn’t call Tanks!”

  Doubt. So much doubt. Damn, he wanted to believe her. He wanted to pull off his clothes, pull off hers, and bury himself inside her.

  “Where’s your phone?”

  She sat up straighter. “In my purse. Why?”

  “I’m going to see if you’re lying to me.”

  She sat there staring at him. He couldn’t tell from looking at her if she was hurt or angry. Possibly both.

  She got up and tossed him her purse from the chair. “Check for yourself.” Anger brightened her eyes. “I’m going to sleep in the bedroom.”

  “Andy is in there.” Billy stepped forward, but she stopped him with a look.

  “I’ll sleep with the devil before I’ll sleep with a man who doesn’t trust me.” She bolted down the hall.

  Three seconds later, Andy walked out, bringing a blanket and his dog. “That wasn’t nice,” he mumbled. He wandered sleepily into the living room, where he plopped down in the recliner and shoved a pillow behind his head. “Ellie’s not the type that would be messing around with another guy,” he added with a yawn.

  Billy dug through Ellie’s purse, found her phone, and hit the button to see if she’d made any calls. Not one.

  He looked at Andy. “Did she use your phone again?”

  The two a.m. alarm came before Jake realized. “I’m turning on the light,” he warned.

  “I really don’t like you,” Macy mumbled.

  “Yes, you do,” he said. Finding her pupils fine, he cut the light again, reset his watch, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

  At the three a.m. alarm: “I’m positive I don’t like you.” Macy covered her eyes with her hand when the light flooded the room.


  “You’re a terrible liar,” he said. “You so hot for me, you…” His gaze lowered, and his words tripped over his tongue. The top of her pajama shirt had come undone, exposing her soft breast and the better part of a rose-colored nipple. Swallowing a desire to lower his mouth and taste that sweet treasure, he focused on her face. Leaning in to check her eyes, he tried not to look at the open V of her shirt.

  So close to her mouth he could feel her breath, he brushed his lips to hers. He seriously meant it to be just a quick kiss, but she slipped her tongue between his lips and her hand around his neck. Lost in want, he drank the flavor of her mouth. Lost in taste, he slipped his hand inside her flannel shirt and brushed his thumb over her nipple.

  She moaned into his mouth and her hips rose up. And just like that, he remembered. He couldn’t do this.

  He pulled back, leaving them both short of breath. “Your pupils are fine.” He rolled over.

  “You shouldn’t start something you can’t finish,” she growled.

  “Do you want me to finish?” he asked, wondering if her okay was enough. He awaited her answer.

  “No. But you still shouldn’t have started it.”

  He hadn’t started it! Well, not really. She’d been the one to deepen the kiss. But he didn’t say that.

  Thirty minutes later, he was still wide awake and fully aroused. He’d just checked his watch. That was how he knew the exact time the spray of bullets came through the window.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Macy heard loud popping sounds and shattering glass. Before she’d awakened enough to realize what they meant, she felt Jake’s hard body on top of her. His oh-so-masculine weight brought a yelp from her throat. The next thing she knew, he had her in a bear hug rolling off the bed and onto the floor. She landed with a thud atop his naked chest, his arms locked around her, something cold and metallic pressed between her shoulder blades.

  “Son of a bitch!” He flipped her over. “Are you okay?” Propped up on his elbow, he moved his left hand over her front, touching breasts, ribs, legs. “Macy?”

  “Yeah.” Popping sounds? “What was…?”