by J. M. Madden
Speechless, Rachel blinked, shock coursing over her. With her unclean everything clothes, hair, face, mind—her heart raced with embarrassment. The man was sex incarnate and she was the nastiest she’d been in a long time. Was he hoping she would give in because she was feeling vulnerable?
When she didn’t say anything immediately, he waved a broad hand. “You don’t have to answer now. Take your time. I know I should have waited until you were a little more recovered, but I couldn’t help myself. Just think about it.”
Giving her a look that seemed a little embarrassed, he headed back down the driveway.
Rachel’s heart raced. And just the fact that she had that physical reaction made her open her mouth and call out a ‘Yes’.
Dean looked back at her and grinned. “I can call you?”
Giving a single tight nod, Rachel tucked her hair behind her ear before backing into her condo.
Gasping, she dropped back against her door and covered her mouth with her hand. What the hell had she just done?
THREE
Dean vibrated with excitement all day, wondering how long he needed to wait before he called Rachel Searles. If he called too soon, she’d know what a geek he was but he didn’t want to put it off too long because he wanted her to know how interested in her he was.
As he backed into the driveway of a derelict building, one of his favorite spots to catch speeders, he glanced at the empty seat beside him. Though she’d been embarrassed and in pain, he’d loved having her beside him. When he’d touched her, his skin had prickled with awareness.
Rachel had an allure to her that he couldn’t figure out. She wasn’t the prettiest woman he’d ever seen, but she was definitely the strongest. It wasn’t very often that he met a woman that impressed him that way, but she definitely did. Her face was lean-boned and her golden eyes direct, full of knowledge of a life lived. She was tall enough that he didn’t feel like he was going to break her if he hugged her, and strong enough that she looked like she could take him down if she felt she needed to. The thought of grappling with her sent a bolt of awareness through his cock.
Dean’s shift dragged on. He’d sworn to himself that he would give her a day to recover but as the hours crawled by his determination flagged and he got a little out of sorts. The speeders he pulled over probably wished he was having a more relaxed day because he listened to every convoluted excuse then wrote them out the ticket.
He drove back to the substation, gathered his crap and locked the car, then strode into the building. There was only one report to write but several tickets to forward to the courthouse. Killian slapped him on the back as he walked into the building.
“You working out tonight, West?”
Dean nodded. “Yup. I’ll be there.”
He seriously needed to work off some of this anxiety.
* * *
RACHEL CALLED WILDE. After she spoke with Shannon for a minute to give her the scoop on what had happened, her friend connected her to the boss of LNF.
“Wilde,” he answered.
For some crazy reason, emotion suddenly attacked her. It took several heavy breaths to calm her unease. “Sir. I’m just returning your call. I’m sorry it took so long. I was in a crash.”
“Are you okay, Searles? Do we need to come get you?”
That solidarity that every Marine had was so irreplaceable. “No, sir. It happened yesterday. I spent the night under observation for a concussion, but they released me this morning. I’ll be into work tomorrow.”
“Damn, Searles. Are you sure you’re okay to return? You can have some time off if you need it.”
“Thank you but no, sir. I’m pretty sure I can be in tomorrow.”
Come hell or high water, she murmured to herself.
“Well,” Duncan told her firmly, “if you change your mind stay home. Sometimes the effects are the crash are felt more later.”
Rachel choked out a laugh. “Oh, I doubt I can feel much worse than right now. In the spirit of full disclosure I should probably tell you they had to cut me out of the car.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line.
“Shit, Searles! Was this a single vehicle or did somebody hit you?”
“Somebody hit me. Then drove off. DPD is investigating but I doubt they’ll find him. Totaled my car.”
“Damn,” he breathed. “That sucks. That was a nice car.”
She laughed, a little wistfully. “Yeah, it was.”
The car would have to be replaced, too, as soon as possible. She could ride her bike in the mean time. Assuming she wasn’t too sore to move tomorrow.
“Take tomorrow off. That’s an order. And I’ll leave it open in case you need more time.”
Rachel sighed, knowing that was probably best. She wouldn’t do anyone any good if she had trouble moving in the morning. “Okay, I’ll stay home. Thank you, sir.”
“Quit, Searles. Stay home and get better. I’ll work your ass harder when you come back.”
“Agreed.”
She hung up, exceedingly thankful that she had settled in Denver, Colorado. The Lost and Found Investigative Service was incredible. Duncan Wilde had created an environment open to any and every type of former military, as well as any and every type of disability. When they cycled out of the military, either retired or medically discharged, the servicemen were usually left at a loss as to what to do with themselves. The skills taught and encouraged in the service were not necessarily applicable to civilian life. And if they were wounded, or “combat modified”, it made it that much harder to find a slot to fit in.
Wilde had created a company that not necessarily catered to the wounded employees, but definitely made allowances for, and adapted to their new lifestyles. But he still required that they all attain their private investigator’s licenses and conduct themselves in a business-like manner, as well as perform physically to the best of their abilities. No matter what their disability, every man and woman at LNF played on level ground.
It was exhilarating. And not something she ever wanted to jeopardize. She had enough sense to know, though, that she could be more of a liability and distraction at work tomorrow than a help.
* * *
DEAN WAITED two endless days to call Rachel, though it almost killed him. Six o’clock. He could call her after six. After his shift had ended and he’d gotten home. But the benchmark had been distracting as hell. Even the guys at work remarked on his being distracted, but he couldn’t help it. Thoughts of Rachel plagued him, until he wondered if there was actually something wrong with him.
The little piece of paper with her number on it sat on the coffee table in front of him, but he didn’t need it. He’d long ago memorized the thing; it was just comforting to have it there.
As he punched the numbers in to his cell phone, he had to pause to clench his quaking hand. Forcing his fingers to move, he finished the sequence then waited, breath held, for her to answer.
But she didn’t answer.
Disappointment swamped him and he had to shake it off. Even as he debated calling her again, the cell phone rang in his hand. Heaving a breath he swiped a finger across the screen. “Hello?”
“Hello. Is this Dean?” The voice was tentative.
“Yes! Rachel?”
“Yes,” she chuckled. “Sorry I missed you the first time. I couldn’t move as fast as I needed to grab the phone.”
“No big deal. Really. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, I’m up. Achy. Trying not to take the pain pills they gave me.”
Dean could totally sympathize. “I was in a motorcycle wreck a few years ago. Destroyed my right ankle and messed up my knee. I can understand not wanting to take the pills. They knocked my butt out and made me dizzy. And nauseous.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what they do. And I’m bored out of my mind. When I get like this I usually go work out but the doctor said I have to lay off that for a week.”
That sounded like an opening if he’d ever
heard one. “Can I bring over some takeout? We can play cards or I can stop and rent a couple movies.”
“Oh,” she sighed, and he could tell she was thinking. “Yeah, that might be okay.”
Though it wasn’t the rousing ‘hell, yeah’ he’d hoped for he’d take it. “Okay, I’ll be over in about an hour.”
“Sounds perfect. Later!”
FOUR
An hour. Okay. What did she need to do in an hour?
Settle her nerves, first off.
With that thought in mind she went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. Grunt, her feline roommate, looked at her with mild reproach as she moved around. Though his food bowl was mostly full, enough had been eaten that he apparently feared starvation. Crossing to the cupboard with his dry cat food, Rachel very carefully leaned over, back straight, and drew it out of the depths. Pain shafted through her spine as she raised herself up and she decided then to leave the canister on the counter.
Rachel looked around the apartment. Though she wasn’t a messy person there were a few things she needed to pick up. She went to the bedroom closet and reached up to the top shelf, searching. There it was. She pulled down the long aluminum stick of the gripper tool. It was only about three feet long, but it kept her from having to bend over.
Moving slowly through the condo she picked up the items she needed to and lit a candle. Though she couldn’t decorate worth a damn she loved to have candles around. Maybe the yummy smell would make up for sitting on the plain brown furniture.
Glancing at the clock, she winced. Dean would be here within forty minutes. The thought of having a man in her space that she didn’t work with was very strange, but a tingle of feminine excitement ran through her. It had been months since she’d been out on a date, and she certainly hadn’t been excited before, during or after that disaster.
Rachel showered and cleaned up, then took the time to add just a bit of makeup to her eyes. She’d never been one to use a lot and as she looked at the bruising and small line of black stitches at her temple, she wished she’d have listened to one of her girlfriends when they’d tried to teach her. There was a bottle of foundation in the basket beneath the counter, but when she opened the lid she realized it had dried out. Grrr…
Moving to the bedroom, she stood in front of her closet doors. If he was just bringing over some pizza or something, she didn’t need to go all out but maybe more than jeans and a T-shirt. Dragging the hangers along the rod, she debated what to wear. Her hand hovered over a nice apricot colored button down shirt, a little more feminine than what she normally wore. Mentally shrugging, she slipped it on. It would have to do.
Running some pink gloss over her lips and scraping her hair back into a ponytail she moved back out to the living room to stare at the clock. Anxiety hit her then. Was this a date? Kind of?
Dean arrived right on the dot of seven, knocking firmly on the door. Rachel’s heartbeat took off and she blinked at the sudden tension in her body. Deliberately taking a deep breath she moved to pull open the door.
Dean grinned as soon as he saw her, his vivid aquamarine eyes crinkling with emotion. “Hello, Rachel.”
“Hello, Dean.”
Lifting his pale brows he ran his gaze over her face. The man got brownie points for not looking at her chest. But then she kind of wished he would because his direct, drawn-out examination was making her a little uncomfortable.
“You look amazing. I hope this didn’t stress you out too soon after the accident.”
Rachel made a face and gave a slow shake of her head. “No, I’m fine. Believe me, I’ve dealt with more stress than this. Come on in.”
She stepped back to let him cross the doorjamb and into the room. There was a brown paper take-out bag in his huge right hand. “I hope you like Mexican. I’ve got this great place down the block from my apartment that I go to way too often.”
Rachel was surprised. “No, Mexican sounds delicious, actually. Not what I expected.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I didn’t want to take the easy route, you know, like a pizza.”
Grinning, he crossed to her dining room table and started unpacking Styrofoam containers. He set a second brown paper bag aside then set a foam clamshell at one place setting, and a second at the other.
Rachel watched the heavy muscles of his shoulders flex and extend. She was around men every day, had been her entire life. She had always been a better guy friend than girl friend because she didn’t get into all the girl stuff. If asked whether she’d like to shoot or shop, shooting would get her vote, hands down, every time.
But as she looked at the way Dean moved, lean back elongating as he reached across the table, she decided she didn’t want to be his buddy. At least, not just his buddy. God, he had a great ass. She jerked her attention back to what he was doing.
“What can I get you to drink? Beer, pop, water?”
“I’ll take a water, please.”
Rachel drew two tall glasses of ice water from the filtered jug she kept in the fridge and walked them to the table. Dean looked up at her as she entered the room and she almost stumbled. The look in his eyes… it took true strength of will to set the glasses down without spilling the water.
He actually moved to hold the chair for her. Face burning, Rachel let him scoot the chair under her butt. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Dean sat across from her and the chair actually creaked. His eyes flicked to hers and he widened his eyes theatrically. “I’ve only destroyed one chair in my life, I swear!”
Rachel laughed and looked away, entirely too charmed by him. “It’s stronger than it looks. Though you are a big dude.” She took the excuse to look him up and down.
He wore a soft blue button-down shirt, short sleeves revealing his muscular biceps and forearms. Dark blond hair covered his tan skin and she could trace the length of his veins down his arms. She wanted to trace those veins with her fingertips.
Dean leaned his head down to catch her gaze and Rachel felt her skin heat again. Shit, he’d caught her gawking at him. “Yes?”
He tipped his chin toward the white Styrofoam container in front of her. “I ordered chicken fajitas and enchiladas. Which would you prefer?”
They both sounded good. Hunger was suddenly overriding the nausea. “Can we split them?”
Dean’s perfect smile spread and he nodded, putting her request into action.
“Where are you from, Rachel?”
“I’m from a little bit of everywhere. My dad’s in the Marines, so we bounced around a lot. I’d been to more countries by the age of twelve than most people see in their lives. My dad is getting ready to retire in a couple years and he’ll probably stay in Pensacola, where he’s stationed now.”
“With your mom?”
Rachel stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. “No, my mom committed suicide when I was about ten.”
Dean cringed and reached forward to rest his hand on hers. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
The touch of his cool fingers on hers made her appreciate him all the more. “She got tired of the life, I think, though she never told Dad that. We were getting ready for another move out of the country when she swallowed a bunch of sleeping pills.”
Though she didn’t say it out loud, she had been the one to find her mother, of course; lying on her bed as if nothing were wrong. It was not unusual for her to take a lot of naps, when she got older Rachel realized was a symptom of her depression. But Mom had always been good about getting up to make dinner for her daughter and husband. That night she did not.
“Did you have brothers or sisters?”
“No, just Dad. But after Mom…left, he was a very different man. She had been the central support of our family and when she left things fell apart. My dad used to be a steady fixture in my life, but he couldn’t stand to be at the house without Mom in it. He got the acceptance he needed from the Marines, and I mean that literally. He was on base as much as possible.”
“I’m surprised you weren’t a little resentful of them, then.”
What an interesting insight. “No, not resentful. I graduated high school and joined as soon as I could. For a while I found that acceptance, too. There’s nothing like knowing the guy next to you will take a bullet for you.”
Dean lifted his brows at her as he shoved a forkful of food into his mouth.
“Oh,” she laughed. “I guess you do know. How about you? Do you come from a long line of cops?”
Dean tilted his head. “You know, I didn’t used to think so. My dad is a carpenter and all of my uncles did construction work, but a few years ago I learned from my mom that her family had been heavy into law enforcement. That must be where I get the urge.”
“And does your family live around here?”
He nodded. “My dad’s been having health issues so I moved back here to be close to them.”
“Where were you before?”
“California. I had gone to college out there, loved it and never left. One of my workout buddies was an Anaheim cop and everything he did sounded fascinating. So, though I have a degree in computer programming, I went to the police academy and worked there for years. I loved it. I just moved here to Denver about six months ago.”
Rachel quirked an eyebrow. “Sounds like you had fun out there.”
“I did,” he told her with a grin. “But Dad’s getting older and I needed to be close for Mom.”
The food was probably as good as he’d promised, but she didn’t taste any of it. She was too busy watching him. Light brown stubble darkened his jaw but his skin was nicely tanned, obviously from being in California. It was also obvious he worked outside a lot. He had the typical cop sunglass tan, paler around his stunning eyes.
Dean moved seamlessly from one topic to the next and managed to keep her entertained throughout the meal. He had an unending supply of ‘crazy-ass suspect’ stories and she giggled more than she had in a long time. It was nice not dwelling on losing her parents. And even though he told her a lot about himself—likes and hobbies—she sensed there was so much more to him. Rachel wanted to ask him a million questions but didn’t feel it was exactly appropriate at that time.