A Case of Love

by Wendy Stone

  "W...well, you and Jimmy “the dog",” she tried to joke.

  "Did you like how you felt then?” he asked.

  "Then?"

  "Bared in front of those men, my hand on your naked breast, your nipple teasing my palm,” he answered her, reaching down and finding her wrists. He drew them slowly up above her head, crossing them and then trailing his fingers down her arms.

  "It was different,” Kenzie answered, squirming a little as his fingers tickled her. They traced down her sides, moving over her ribs to the deep indent of her waist before moving up again.

  His lips found hers again, a quick biting little kiss that distracted her from where his hands were moving until suddenly he cupped her breasts in his big palms, rubbing and squeezing gently even as he heard her moan, her hips jerking against his. “Do you like this?"

  "Yes,” she groaned, twitching as he rolled one of her nipples with his fingers.

  "I'll let you in on a secret,” he hissed against her ear. “I do too."

  "Really?” she groaned, mimicking him from a few moments earlier.

  "Yes, really,” he said, smiling though the grin looked rather harsh. He was slowly losing control of himself, wanting badly to strip off the tiny shorts she wore and thrust himself into her, to be her first. That thought sent a shudder of longing through him that had her eyes opening and staring up at him.

  "Are you all right?” she asked even as she squirmed under him.

  His lips found hers, this time with very little gentleness, letting her feel the hunger that ate at him. He twisted her lips open, his tongue thrusting greedily inside, tasting of her passionate flavor. “Does that feel like I'm all right?” he growled against her lips, taking them again before she could answer.

  Her response was swift and hot, going straight to his head. His hand slid from her tempting curves, moving down until he could feel the soft flannel of her shorts. He slipped his hand under the waistband, finding smooth, warm skin, roaming around until he could cup the curve of her ass in his palm, squeezing and molding her flesh.

  Her arms went around his neck, her legs moved up, clasping at his sides as he caressed her skin. “Were these expensive?” he asked, his voice harsh with need.

  "N...no, why?"

  "I have this urgent need to rip them off of you,” he growled.

  "Oh,” she moaned, shivering.

  He didn't know if that was in agreement or not and he didn't care. Grasping the waistband of the thin flannel, he gripped it tightly, flexed his hand and then yanked hard. It ripped easily, exposing her slender hips and the smooth flesh of her belly to him. Her one remaining garment caught his eyes and made his breath hiss out slowly between his teeth in an admiring whistle.

  Gideon rolled to the side, his hand coming down to smooth red satin and lace over her skin. His thumb pressed against the juncture of her thighs, slipping between, feeling smooth skin and wet heat. “I want you,” he growled. “If I take these off of you, I'm not going to be able to stop myself from taking you."

  He could feel the heat of her slit under the satin and he slid gently against it, pushing the satin into her wet flesh, using it to caress the hard bump he could feel under it. She groaned, her hands digging into his arm, her fingers grasping his wrist as if she weren't sure she wanted him to continue or not. Her hips moved, jerking against his hand, unable to stop as he pleasured her.

  A low moan escaped her lips, her eyes half closed as she looked at him. “Please,” she whispered, her thighs spreading further, begging for him to give her more.

  She was so close, her body jerking and shivering as he brought her closer to climax. He pulled aside the satin, dipping his finger into the heat of her, finally feeling her passionate wetness.

  "Hawk,” she gasped, her hand digging into his wrist, her eyes going wide as she felt the first contractions of pleasure.

  Her thighs pressed together, holding him to her, her body tightening under his caressing hand. An explosion of joy shot through her, and she threw her head back against the pillow.

  Gideon watched her pleasure feeling the ache of his own desire. She was so beautiful, even with her curls mussed and sleep matted. He felt her relax under his hand, her body going limp in release. Slowly pulling his hand away, he reached for the waist band of her panties, readying to pull them off of her.

  The sound of his cell phone ringing made him pause. He listened to the ring, groaning when he realized he had to answer it.

  "I'm sorry, Mac,” he sighed. “You don't know how sorry I am."

  She chuckled, the sound soft and sighing as if she were still riding the high of her climax.

  Gideon glanced back, watching her as she opened her eyes, the amber gleam lambent against her tawny skin. Sighing heavily, he reached for his shirt, plucking his cell phone out of the pocket. Glancing at the screen, he hit the talk button. “This had better be good,” he snarled.

  He felt the bed shift and was surprised to feel long, soft fingers traveling across his back, gliding over his shoulders and down his arms. He almost moaned into the phone when he felt her lips against his throat, her breasts pressing into his back. “What was that?"

  Her laugh was low and husky and sent chills down his spine. He closed his eyes on a curse, listening to the person on the other end of his phone with a growl of pissed off. “Yeah, I got it. I'll be there.” He slammed his phone shut, dropping it on the bed beside him before half turning and grabbing her, dragging her across his lap until he could find her lips. “You teasing little minx,” he growled, slanting his lips across hers.

  The kiss was hot, intense and smoldering. He kissed her with every bit of desire he felt, finally dropping her back on the bed as he reached for his shirt.

  He pulled it on, hearing her breathing heavy behind him. Standing, he shoved his shirt into his jeans, tucking in his hard cock as well and carefully zipping up the denim. He turned, his eyes narrowing as he saw the picture she made, sprawled against the soft comforter, wearing nothing but the bright red panties which were darker at the crotch.

  "Dinner,” he growled. “Tonight. I'll be here at seven to pick you up."

  Mac nodded, her eyes never leaving him as he leaned down and picked up his shoes, pulling them on and tying them. He leaned over her, kissing her one last time, his hand cupping her breast and squeezing gently before he turned and walked out of the room.

  * * * *

  Kenzie watched him walk out of the room, her body singing from his caresses, her mind swimming with everything she'd experienced this morning. She checked her alarm clock, sighing as she realized she had to get up also if she didn't want to be late for work.

  The shower felt good, the water running down her body, the heat beating into her skin. She washed quickly, singing off key any song that came to mind. By the time she was clean, her hair brushed and finally dressed, she had about fifteen minutes to get across town to work.

  She got lucky with a taxi, grabbing one that was stopping in front of her building just as she stepped outside the door. She made it across town and was in the elevator in about twenty minutes. When she stepped out of the elevator, Selena was right there.

  "Are you okay?” The feisty columnist grabbed her hand dragging her over to her desk. “Check these out. I thought when they came to your desk that you were dead."

  Kenzie stared at the huge display of sweet smelling roses in shades of pinks and white. “They're beautiful,” she sighed, bringing one blossom to her nose and inhaling. “Oh and they smell so good."

  "Check out who they're from,” Selena urged, shifting from one sky high heel to the other. “You have an admirer."

  "Did you read the card?” Kenzie asked, reaching into the beautiful flowers and plucking out the small square envelope.

  "No!” Selena said, her hand going to her breast where a bright pink tank top showed off an impressive cleavage. “Would I do something like that?"

  Kenzie rolled her eyes. “That's a rhetorical question isn't it?"

  "Ha
, ha, very funny,” Selena snapped. “Shut up and open the card."

  The back of the envelope had just been tucked inside so it took but a second to pull out the stiff white card inside. There were only four words on the back and no name.

  Thanks for last night...

  "What did you do last night?” Selena asked, her eyebrows rising into her dyed and teased bangs.

  "Wouldn't you like to know?” Kenzie said, slipping the card back into the envelope and then stashing it into her purse. She buried her face in the sweetness of the roses, a smile she couldn't help curving her lips.

  "Yes, I would like to know,” Selena said. She cocked her hip on the corner of Kenzie's desk. “Come on, dish. You never do anything interesting like this. I gotta know, what got into you? Or should that be who got into you?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

  "I'd tell you, Selena, but then I'd have to kill you.” She chuckled at the frustrated look on her friend's face. She was about to tell her some of it when her name was yelled from across the room.

  "Hunter!!"

  "Yes Ron,” she yelled right back.

  "Great piece on the arson. I want you to go out and get a follow up. Talk to the arson investigators. I want to know exactly what the signature is here and what they are doing about finding the culprit. Take Chase with you. He can get me some pictures of the buildings. Also, get some more quotes from that psychologist friend of yours. This line about the arsonist being sexually anorexic is fantastic."

  She went to grab her purse up, bending over to pick up the card that had slipped out of her purse.

  "Hunter!!"

  Kenzie rolled her eyes. “Yes, Ron?"

  "Now, girl, not next week."

  "Yes, Ron,” she said.

  * * * *

  Darkness surrounded him, numbing the pain and the voices. He stared out into it, making shapes in the dark with his imagination. Flames leaped at the corners of his consciousness, tickling it like a favorite child.

  He tried to ignore the thoughts running through his head, thoughts put there by that reporter, Mackenzie Hunter. The things she'd said about him, things that were hurtful and mean, caused a rage to start growing in his belly. How dare she talk about him like that, as if he were a common criminal? There was nothing common about what he could do. He created fire. Fire was all powerful. Fire could cleanse, it could rid the world of evil, take away the pain and the noise. Fire was his, it was all he knew.

  She had to be made to see that she was wrong. She had to pay. He would make her pay.

  He smiled, the side of his mouth crinkling the heavy scarring that marred one side of his face, running up and into his hair line where he wore his hair long to cover the ear that had been burned off. Soon, he thought. Soon she would know what he did and she would see. He'd make her see.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Four

  * * * *

  A single ringing of the phone was all it took to wake Brett Hunter up. He groped blindly for the phone in the dark, fumbling as he picked it up, flipping it open only to blink as the bright light from the cell phone screen glared into his eyes.

  "Fuck!” he growled, blinded. He stabbed at a button, bringing it to his ear. “This had better be fucking good."

  "Is that any way to speak to your boss?"

  "It is when the asshole calls me at...” he glanced over at his clock. “Dammit, Dillon, do you have any fucking idea what time it is?"

  "Wow, you get a real case of potty mouth when you wake up grumpy."

  "Yeah, so tell me what the hell you want so that I can go back to sleep.” He rubbed at his eyes, stifling a yawn as he waited for his cousin and boss, Dillon Hunter to speak.

  "How would you feel about going to Monroe City?” Dillon asked.

  "Is this a rhetorical question or do I get an actual say in this deal?” Brett picked up his pillow, cradling the phone between his ear and his neck.

  "Take it either way you want. Kenzie's in trouble and needs some help.” Dillon pushed the Monroe City paper further up on the table, staring at the byline that was his cousin's name. “She's gotten herself mixed with some shady characters and I want you to go check on her."

  "What's wrong with your checking on her?” Brett grumbled, not too thrilled about having to pack up so that ‘big daddy’ Dillon would quit worrying. “Besides, she's a big girl. She even pays her own bills and everything.” The sarcasm was obvious, because Dillon thought he had to keep track of all of the Hunter clan. It was a big clan, starting way back when Aidan Hunter, Highlander chieftain, kidnapped the English beauty that at the time was thought of as ‘Incomparable’ by the ton. Heather Stanhope had been a lady born and bred, with an Earl as her father.

  Heather had been feted and partied, making the rounds of all the most desirable balls and parties of the season, but she'd grown bored. Men were too much the dandy, seeming soft and most decidedly unattractive. She had wanted someone who would sweep her off of her feet, move heaven and earth to be with her and give her the stars from the sky.

  Instead, she'd been swept up on the back of a horse, raced willy-nilly through the rugged countryside of the Highlands, and been besieged and bemused by the laird of the Hunter clan. He'd given up a lot to come to the Americas, to make a new start for the two of them away from the persecution of their peoples. Here they'd settled to raise a dynasty of Hunters, growing old together before death had parted them for a very short span of time.

  Now Dillon considered himself the head of the clan, a position he kept with an iron fist and a generous pocket. He'd been willing to give Cousin Judah a job, when he'd come out of the prison term he'd been railroaded into. Instead, he'd given his cousin the family bible, knowing that something like that would mean a lot to both Judah and his Emma.

  He'd dropped everything to help his sister, Shanna and even vowed to get along with her second husband, Brandon Austen. Now he was dragging Brett into his mother-henning ways.

  "She may be big enough to take care of herself, but she's a Hunter...” Dillon said.

  "...and we take care of our own,” they finished together... Brett with a sigh that couldn't be anything but exasperated.

  "Fine, I'll go. But I'm not going to like it, Dillon. I want a raise.” Brett threw the last in as a jibe, knowing Dillon paid him a more than fair salary for running the main branch of the Hunter Detective Agency, in Michigan. Dillon was running the newly opened branch in San Antonio, staying down in Texas, a place he said he'd never live in again. But for Rylie Hunter, Dillon's beautiful blonde wife, Dillon would walk across fire.

  "As if,” Dillon chuckled. “I pay you too much to sit on your ass in my office anyway."

  "Yeah, right.” Brett stifled another yawn. “If you're done handing out jobs for the night, mind if I get back to sleep. I'm going to have a busy day tomorrow if I'm going to have to fly out and babysit Cousin Kenzie, especially after she reams me for letting you push me around one more time."

  "It's your job to let me push you around, and don't you forget it.

  "Goodnight, Dillon. Say hi to your sexy wife for me. Tell her I'm still waiting for her to realize she married the wrong Hunter and come to me."

  "Yeah, over your dead body, Brett."

  There was a click and then nothing. Brett snapped his phone closed, growling as he thought of what he'd planned to do. Ever since taking over the running of the office a few months before when Dillon had married Rylie Moore, he'd been so super busy getting caught up and trying to figure out Dillon's filing system, he hadn't had a moment to devote to figuring out his own enigmatic case. That of one Anna Marie Castillo, the gorgeous woman who'd hired the firm to find her sister, backing out before Brett even had much of a chance to get any information.

  He'd planned to visit with her, now that things were slowly turning normal, perhaps see if they could try once more to find her sister, anything to sit for five minutes in her presence. He sighed, punching the pillow behind his head and then rolled to his side. “Dillon
and his fucking meddling,” he sighed before closing his eyes and letting himself drift back to sleep.

  * * * *

  Mackenzie, knowing nothing of her cousin's calling in the cavalry, was sitting at her desk, arguing on the phone with the Mayor's press secretary.

  "Come on, Donna, you know that the people of Monroe City have a right to know. Why should it be kept quiet if there is an actual serial arsonist out there? I mean, wouldn't it be better to have the public forewarned. What's that old saying? Forewarned is forearmed?"

  "The Mayor is not making any comments at this time, as to whether there is actually a serial arsonist plaguing the city. He will not be railroaded by you or any of your contemporaries into giving a statement saying anything like that. You know how he feels about politics and what rights the people really should have when it comes to the News."

  "So the man is hiding his head in the political sandbox, because this is an election year and he's up for a second term? Wow, won't that make a wonderful quote, or maybe a front page news heading. Mayor's concern over his political career more important than his constituents."

  "If you print anything like that Mackenzie, the Mayor's lawyers will be on you with a cease and desist order before you could blink.” Donna's voice was growing harsher as her patience ran out. “The Mayor's comment is no comment at this time, until we learn more."

  "Can I quote you on that?” Kenzie said cattily before hearing the sound of the phone being slammed down.

  "Wow, cousin, you make friends all over don't you?"

  Kenzie glanced up at the familiar voice. When she saw who was there, she rose from her desk chair, squealing in glee and wrapped her arms around Brett's neck. “What are you doing here?"

  "I got a call from the worrier. He wanted poor little Mackenzie checked up on.” He hugged her tight, swinging her into a circle in the small space between desks.

  "Dillon called you?” she asked, hugging him tight before letting him go to stand back and look at him.