Her decision made, she draped the blanket over one shoulder and placed her foot on the first rung, easing up the ladder. Her heart raced faster the closer she got to the tree house.
At the top, she hesitated.
What are you doing, Grace? Are you going to throw yourself at him? Beg him to make love?
She cringed at the prospect. She was about to climb back down the ladder when Cord stuck his head out.
“You shouldn’t be out there, Grace. It’s not safe. Hurry and get up here.” He reached around her waist and pulled her into the house, losing his balance in the process. He fell backward, and Grace landed with a grunt on top him.
Seconds passed without a word or the slightest movement.
Grace studied Cord’s handsome face, seeing pain. “Did I hurt you?”
He swallowed once, then again, and shook his head.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” His voice was husky.
Grace shivered, her body singing with excitement. Just being near him stirred sensations she’d never dreamed existed. She came to life in his arms.
Making love to Cord would be magic. He excited yet terrified her, all in the same breath.
She shifted her weight, and his discomfort became evident against her leg.
She smiled. No passion for her, huh? This was a clear indication she’d been wrong. He wanted her, too, and that knowledge exhilarated her.
His blue eyes darkened to slate. “What’s so funny? Do you get a charge from giving a man a hard-on?”
Her smile grew. “Only you,” she confessed.
He growled deep in his throat. “Grace, I don’t think—”
“Don’t think at all. Just feel.” God, when had she turned into a blatant seductress?
“But—”
Grace placed her finger to his lips. “Shhh!”
She leaned in to replace the finger with her lips. The contact sent every fiber in her being tingling to life. Her senses heightened.
She inhaled, intoxicated further by the hint of wood and musk around them. Grace clasped his shoulders, drawing closer to him, pleased at the moan of pleasure it evoked. His groan grew to a full-out growl as he took control, rolling her onto her back, deepening their kiss.
His hand traced a path over her shirt to her breast and caressed her nipple, which beaded in response. His weight crushing her to the hard boards of the floor only added to the excitement as she wound her leg around his, running her foot up and down his calf.
Cord reached under her shirt, his hand gliding along her naked skin to her breast. She gasped with pleasure, thankful for her decision not to wear a bra that morning.
He continued to explore her body, his feathered touch stirring something deep in her belly. She’d never burned for a man’s touch like his. Yearned for him to strip her naked and drive all thoughts from her mind.
Reluctantly, she turned to end the kiss, and his lips quickly moved to her ear. He drew the lobe into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, a surge of electricity shooting down her spine. The sensation was pure torture, and yet she wanted it to continue.
“Cord, please,” she pleaded, yanking at the hem of his T-shirt. Smiling, he slowly rolled over and removed his shirt, tossing it behind him.
Grace gulped, memorizing each hard contour and plane of his body, every detail, down to the sparse blond hair trailing into his jeans. Could any man be more perfect?
She touched his chest, amazed when the muscles jumped. She glanced into his eyes and saw raw desire in their blue depths.
Without hesitation, Grace pulled her own top off and watched his eyes deepen to steely gray.
Boldly, she took his hand and brought it to her breast. “Touch me, Cord. Make me feel alive again.”
His hand splayed over her breast, treating it as if it were a piece of fragile glass.
Grace flung her head back and closed her eyes, reveling in the gentle yet agonizing caresses, struggling for breath.
Searing heat forced her eyes open when he took a nipple into his mouth, laved it, then moved to the other until she thought she’d lose her mind. The pulsating heat between her legs became unbearable. She wanted Cord naked, his hard cock inside her, ending her agony.
With shaky hands, she fumbled at the waistband of his jeans and pried open the button, spurred on by the urgent need to have him ready to do just that.
Grace unzipped his pants and caressed his rigid staff, and a groan of pleasure escaped his lips. She tugged at the tight denim, trying with no success to pull the jeans down.
Cord grasped her hand and smiled. “I’ll do it. Lay out that afghan.”
Grace spread the blanket out, every inch of her body tingling, anxious that she’d do something wrong. It had been so long. What if she couldn’t please him?
Brushing the thought away, she removed her tennis shoes and was in the process of removing her own jeans when Cord’s words stopped her.
“Let me do that.”
Grace turned around, her full attention on Cord, who was on his knees, completely naked, his cock standing proudly erect. She was right. He was perfect in every way.
Cord crawled to her side, then with tortured slowness, unbuttoned her jeans, sliding his hands in over her hips. “Lie down.”
She did as instructed, and he tugged the jeans off, leaving her exposed.
Surprisingly, Grace wasn’t shy at allowing him full appraisal, his eyes speaking volumes. He liked what he saw.
He inched his way up her body, easing down next to her. “Grace, I want you to tell me what you need.”
She brushed her fingers along his jaw. “Just touch me, Cord.”
His hand cupped her breast, then moved over her belly with intent, gliding between her legs to delve inside her womanly core.
She moaned as his finger explored her, dipping in and out of her heat until she thought she’d explode. When she cried out, he slid over to blanket her body, his full weight melding into her, an intense throbbing proclaiming her need.
He nudged her knees apart, and she held her breath as he thrust deep into her, hard and deliberate, filling her completely.
She sucked in another breath and wrapped her legs around him, drawing him into her further. As they moved as one, light perspiration formed between their bodies, intensifying her body’s awareness, the friction between his chest and her nipples adding to the intensity.
Grace arched up, meeting him thrust for thrust, the tension building in her body until she cried out, tight, inner muscles erupting into spasms.
Cord groaned her name with his own climax seconds later and collapsed on top of her.
Grace held onto Cord, refusing to lose contact with him. She knew what they’d just shared was extraordinary, leaving her with a million and a half questions.
Until now, an orgasm had never been so powerful, so fulfilling, leaving her exhausted yet exhilarated at the same time. He made her feel sexy—something she’d never felt before.
Slowly, coming out of an afterglow fog, she heard a strange noise, a rocking sound with a shaky vibration.
“What is that?” she asked.
He looked around, and then his eyes sparkled with amusement. “We brought down the house.”
“What?” She pushed him off to see what he was talking about. A gaping hole allowed her to see twinkling stars.
She pointed to the hole. “Did we do that? How are we going to explain how that happened?”
“Calm down, Grace. It’s a swinging door. See the rope hanging down? The latch must have given way.”
Grace heaved a sigh. “Thank God! I thought we were going to have to fess up and tell Emily and Charlie we destroyed Jacob’s tree house with our wild antics.”
“Antics? Is that what they call it these days?”
Grace slapped his arm. “You know what I mean.”
“No, show me.” He leaned in to kiss her, igniting a renewed spark—one that turned into a raging inferno in her body within seconds.
****
Cord leaned back in his precinct chair, its old springs creaking, a big grin permanently affixed to his face. He was one happy man. Hell, why shouldn’t he be?
Last night’s lovemaking had continued until early this morning, when they’d finally decided to try and get some sleep.
Sleep. Right. Cord yawned.
Even when Grace had left him and gone to the guestroom, he’d lain on the couch and thought about her. Her beautiful skin glistening in the moonlight. She was one exciting woman. Making love to her had been the highlight of his life.
He couldn’t believe how much it had changed in such a short time. He was in love—though that wasn’t really anything new. He’d been in love with Grace for years. But now they might actually have a future together.
“What the hell you so happy about?” Tidwell stood on the other side of his desk, a snarl curling his lips. “Harris said to give you this.”
Cord was in too good a mood to let Mike Tidwell ruin it. He yanked the file out of his hand. “What is it?”
“It’s a case he wants you to look at.”
“Thanks.” Cord placed the file in front of him and opened it. Maybe if he just ignored Tidwell, he’d go away.
“So, I heard you were called in front of review yesterday. What did you do? Do a quality check on seized liquor in the evidence room?”
“You’re so funny, Mike. This year you should do a comedy act at the Christmas party.”
“I just might. I guess you’ll be absent again. Last year you were the main topic of conversation. Too good to socialize with anyone here.”
“With the likes of you, yes.” Cord felt his patience slip a degree. “I have work to do, Tidwell. Go pester someone else.”
Harris’s loud, controlled voice vibrated from across the room. “Tidwell, do we pay you to stand around? Get back to work.”
The captain grinned at Cord before turning to go back to his office.
Cord looked at the file in front of him, noticing it was a missing person case. Martin Andrews, a thirty-six-year-old mechanic from the south side of Chicago.
Cord continued to scan the paperwork until a name stopped him. Neil Automotive. The man worked for Jack Neil, the biggest crook in Chicago. Was it a coincidence that this missing man worked for him, or could Jack have something to do with it? Cord’s gut said that Neil did.
He rose and headed for the elevator.
A visit to Neil Automotive was clearly called for, and if Jack didn’t cooperate, Cord might just have to haul his ass in for questioning.
Grace Under Fire
Chapter Seventeen
Grace stood under the shower spray. Her body still tingled from her night with Cord. He’d proven more than knowledgeable in the art of love. He’d driven her body to orgasm more times than she could count, more than she’d experienced during three years of marriage to Vincent. So what did that mean? She and Cord were sexually compatible? Maybe she just hadn’t been well-suited in that area with her husband.
She’d loved Vincent and always excused his lack of interest. From the beginning of their marriage, they hadn’t indulged often. Their schedules were conflicting. Vincent had worked nights, she had days. They didn’t see each other much until he was placed on the day shift; then he’d complained of fatigue. He had a high-stress job, one she could clearly see left him feeling tired and burnt-out, not necessarily interested in sex.
But Cord was different. He had relished bringing her body to fulfillment—hadn’t allowed his own until she was satisfied. What a man. Sexy, and well endowed. A man who knew his way around a woman’s body. Her heart beat faster just thinking about him.
What was he doing right now? Was he thinking about her?
Turning off the faucet, she stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, quickly drying off. She glanced in the mirror. Her face had red, blotchy patches, marks made by Cord’s whisker stubble. A trophy of sorts, to remind her of their wild night together.
She smiled, happy and elated with life. Nothing was going to ruin her day.
She slipped into a navy tank top and a pair of white capris, then walked downstairs to see if Emily was in the kitchen.
She strolled across the living room, her mind on Cord, when a loud rapping sounded at the front door. Her heart skipped at beat. Was it Cord? She hadn’t seen him that morning before he left for work. She glanced at the windmill clock on the wall. It was eleven o’clock. Maybe he had come by to take her to lunch.
She raced through the living room and unhooked the chain and locks, opening the door, disappointed to find another deliveryman standing there, another long, gold box in his hand.
“I have a delivery for a Grace Diaglo.”
“That’s me.” Grace signed the clipboard and, with trembling hands, took the box. She closed the door and placed the thing on the table, too afraid to open it. What if it was from the same guy? What if the note inside proclaimed her a whore again?
“Hey, who was at the door?” Emily asked from the kitchen entryway.
Grace pointed to the box on the table.
Emily blanched. “Do you think it’s from the same person?”
Grace swallowed. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll open it.” Emily rushed to pick up the box.
She removed the ribbon and inched the top off, examining the content. She tipped the box to show Grace. Inside was a rainbow assortment of flowers.
“They’re not roses this time,” Emily remarked. She dug under the flowers and found the card. When she opened it, her face flushed bright red.
“What? What does it say?”
Emily handed Grace the card. “I think it’s personal.”
She glanced at the note. These reminded me of you. Last night was a dream come true. Yours, Cord.
Heat rushed to Grace’s face. She looked at her sister, who had the biggest smirk and inquiring eyes.
“What?”
Emily arched a quizzical brow. “So, a ‘dream-come-true,’ huh? You must have been really good.”
Grace covered her face, too embarrassed to answer. So much for keeping the relationship a secret. Her sister knew everything, all because she was too afraid to open a darn box of flowers.
****
Cord pushed past two goons on his way to Jack Neil’s office.
“We need to talk, Neil.”
Jack Neil waved his men to a stop. “Boys, wait out front. If I need you, I’ll call.” He turned his attention to Cord. “I haven’t come near Mrs. Diaglo, Rawlings. So what the hell would we have to talk about?”
“Martin Andrews. Wasn’t he a mechanic here at Neil Automotive?”
Neil didn’t even blink. “I fired him over six months ago.”
“Did you know he’s been missing for that long?”
“No, but I’m surprised anyone missed him. He was always late and came in stinking of booze. And frankly, he was the worst mechanic I ever had.”
“Yeah, well, coming from you, that doesn’t mean a whole lot. You hardly have room to talk about shortcomings.”
“I don’t have to sit here and listen to this.”
“Yes, you do.” Cord reached in his back pocket and flashed his badge. “I’m working the case. You’d better hope you’ve told me all you know, or I’ll be back. Here’s a warning for you, Neil. Watch your back, because I sure as hell will be.”
Cord stormed from the office, all eyes on him as he went for the exit.
He stalked to his car. Squealing tires off to his right had him jerking around. He caught a glimpse of a dark-haired man in a red Corvette. The guy looked back, and Cord’s knees buckled. No. Couldn’t be. It just looked like him.
Cord shook his head and laughed. Jesus, Cord. You’re losing it. Vince is dead. You saw the body yourself, his badge visible as proof.
His mind raced back to the night Vince was found in their black sedan, C-4 the catalyst for the massive explosion that left nothing but the shell of a car and Vince’s charred body. The case was still
under investigation, though Cord wasn’t allowed any knowledge of where the probe had taken Homicide. But they assumed it was someone who’d had a grudge against Vince. Cord knew better. Everyone loved Vincent Diaglo.
The explosion was more than likely meant for Cord.
Cord jumped into his car. He started the engine and left the parking lot, pulling into traffic.
In his head, he quickly went over the facts about Vince. He was being investigated at work. He might have had an affair, with a baby due in a few months. Then again, maybe he was killed for one of those same reasons. Maybe Vince had been the intended target.
Talbot had told him Tidwell and Prince were being investigated, as well. Maybe one or both had killed Vince to keep him quiet. That was a possibility—one he’d explore more thoroughly when he had time.
Right now he had a missing person case to solve.
****
Cord took the glass of lemonade Mrs. Andrews offered him and smiled. “Thanks.”
“You’re very welcome. I’m just glad someone’s trying to find my husband.”
“Can you tell me a little about Martin?”
The woman’s face glowed. The look in itself told Cord the woman loved her husband very much.
“He was a good man. Hard working. He loved his children and wouldn’t have left us. That’s why I know something bad has happened to him.”
“Jack Neil told a different story,” Cord interjected. “He implied that your husband was a drunk and had no work ethic.”
Her friendly face darkened. Anger radiated from her striking amber eyes. “Jack Neil is a tyrant. Martin worked sixty-plus a week for that man, and he has the nerve to say that. You tell me, when would he have had time to drink? You have to believe me, Detective Rawlings, Jack Neil is a liar.”
Cord nodded. “I believe you, Mrs. Andrews. You wouldn’t happen to have a recent picture of your husband?”
“Yes, I had one taken a few days before he disappeared.” She stepped out of the room.
Cord watched as a little girl, about two, toddled up to him, her cherub face framed by a mass of dark curls. Strange, but she reminded him of someone.
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