Falling for the Cop

by Dana Nussio

  Once back to her seat, she shoved back so quickly that the chair tipped and whacked against the cabinet. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Natalie, wait—”

  But she was already too angry, too humiliated, too—what? She didn’t want to answer that, though, because she was too freaking turned on by a guy who didn’t want her back. Okay, he couldn’t deny his physical reaction that he was still trying to hide. But that was just biology. His rejection was more personal than that. He might want her on some primal level, but not enough to risk the headache of acting on it.

  The worst part was that she shouldn’t want him. Had she forgotten that he was a cop? That he represented all her family had lost? And worse than even that, she’d been ready to climb into bed with a client.

  She grabbed her purse from the floor and scooted past the table without bothering to right the toppled chair. Anyone who could embarrass her that way could pick up the chair for himself.

  But at the sound of the garage door opening, Natalie froze.

  “Are you...uh...expecting someone?”

  “I told you—”

  “Oh. Right.”

  The interior door squeaked open before either could say more. Would it be that Kelly or another female trooper arriving to take a turn helping him? It shouldn’t have made a difference who was there, but a woman might be more perceptive about recent events.

  “Hey, Warner. You here?”

  At the sound of the masculine voice, she let herself breathe. She hadn’t noticed that Shane had left the table when she had, but when she turned back now, he was awkwardly setting the fallen chair back in place.

  Shane shrugged and then called out, “Well, I was out partying, but I hurried home, knowing you would be here.”

  “Good. I’d hate to have to scour the bars looking for your sorry butt.”

  The officer must have followed the voice because he appeared in the kitchen doorway, still wearing a heavy coat. She didn’t recognize this one. He was slightly older than the others, though still handsome in a rugged, broken-nose way.

  “Right. I saw the van outside.” The man glanced over at her speculatively. “And you are...?”

  “Uh...Natalie Keaton.”

  He lifted a brow. “Are you sure?”

  Smooth. So much for her acting like nothing had been happening before the guy showed up. The skin on her chin was so sensitive, and her lips felt swollen. Was it obvious to the guy just what she and Shane had been doing?

  “Stop interrogating my guests, will you?” Shane said. “She’s my physical therapist.”

  “You make house calls?” The guy waggled an eyebrow and turned to Shane. “Leave it to you to find a therapist like her. And one who makes house calls.”

  “Make that one who gives me taxi service to practice so we can coach together,” Shane added in a flat voice.

  The introduction felt like a slug to the gut. Of course, those things were all she was to him. That she’d also been ready to play show-me-yours-I’ll-show-you-mine with him mere minutes before hadn’t fazed him at all. If only she could say the same.

  The other officer turned back to Shane. “I still can’t believe you’re coaching basketball. Who made the mistake of letting you coach?”

  “That would be me,” she answered simply.

  Allowing him to join her coaching staff was the least of her mistakes lately. The one she’d made tonight topped them all. How could she have given yet another man the chance to reject her? Weren’t her father and Paul enough? Shouldn’t she have learned by now that all men were the same?

  “My friend here has forgotten his manners. This is Vinnie Leonetti.”

  “I was born in a cave,” Vinnie said.

  As he gripped her hand with his freezing one, Natalie swallowed. Of course, she recognized the name. He was the guy from Shane’s story. The one who’d arrived on the scene just after Shane was shot. She’d just been worrying about what the guy might pick up on tonight, and he was probably thinking only about his own problems.

  “Well, I was on my way out, so...”

  She grabbed her coat off the side counter and forced herself to put it on right there rather than running from the house.

  “Good to meet you,” Vinnie said. “Maybe I’ll see you at one of the games.”

  With a nod and a quick goodbye, she somehow made it out of the house. Games. Practices. The clinic. Her head felt heavy with just the thought of those things. She wished she never had to see Shane Warner again, but she couldn’t escape him. He was everywhere. She couldn’t disappoint the kids by firing him as assistant coach. She couldn’t stop driving him to practices and games because she’d made a commitment to do it. She couldn’t avoid seeing him three times a week at the clinic, either.

  But there was one thing she could do. It wouldn’t be good for her reputation at work, but she hadn’t exactly volunteered for this assignment. If her boss didn’t understand, she would simply have to make her. She couldn’t be Shane’s PT anymore.

  She’d crossed the line with a client, but it was more than that, and she knew it. At least if she didn’t have to work with him so closely at the clinic, she wouldn’t have to try to make light conversation with him. She wouldn’t have to watch his discomfort as he had to be near her after pushing her away. And she wouldn’t have to continually touch him and hate herself for wanting more.

  * * *

  “WHAT WAS THAT all about?”

  Shane blinked at Vinnie’s words, only now realizing he’d been staring at the empty space where Natalie had so recently stood. Instead of answering the question, he took a bite of the cake that tasted like sawdust now. He doubted anything would have any flavor for him, not after he’d experienced Natalie’s sweet taste.

  “What do you mean?” He was careful not to meet his friend’s gaze as he said it.

  “That’s how you want to play it? As if I didn’t just walk in here and practically catch you two in the act?”

  Shane frowned at him. “If that’s what you think you saw, then you’d better get some glasses and fast.”

  “And you need to remember to hang a towel outside the door next time. And forget glasses—you could have scarred my eyes.” Vinnie splayed his hands over his eyes, peeking between his fingertips.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Maybe not, but there was enough electricity in that room to light up a Christmas tree. And I showed up right in the middle of it.”

  Vinnie might have been right about the rest, but he had that part wrong. Whatever had happened between Shane and Natalie was already over before he came through the door.

  “Do you have anything good in your leftover collection?” Vinnie asked. “I’m starving.”

  Shane clamped his teeth shut to keep his mouth from falling open. If this were six months ago, Vinnie would never have given him a break and dropped the subject like that, especially when they both knew he was right and there might be details to share. But this wasn’t six months ago, and Shane was no longer the lady-killer he used to be. Now Vinnie was treating him like he was encased in blown glass.

  He didn’t deserve a break, either, after the way he’d humiliated Natalie, but he took Vinnie’s gesture for the gift it was. He pointed to the refrigerator. “Have at it. There’s plenty.”

  Vinnie’s head disappeared behind the door. When he emerged again, his arms were laden with containers of leftovers. “There’s a gold mine in there.”

  “Which will turn into a mold mine if you don’t eat some of it.” He yawned and then lifted his arms halfway to stretch. “But, hey, I’m tired, so I’m going to bed.”

  “You need me to come...?”

  Shane shook his head. He needed time alone to process all that had happened tonight. “Just heat up your plate. I’ll call i
f I need anything.”

  His gaze wary, Vinnie went to work, opening and sniffing the contents of the containers. Shane headed into the bathroom. Vinnie hadn’t missed that Shane was behaving out of character. Even with his injury, Shane never went to bed early when he had the chance to decompress with one of his teammates. Right now, though, he had some unwinding of his own to do, since he was wound so tightly that a spring inside him might pop.

  What was that all about? He considered Vinnie’s question as he brushed his teeth. He’d made so many mistakes tonight, starting from the moment he’d invited Natalie into his house. No, before today. From that first internet search. Why hadn’t he just steered clear of her after he’d learned the story about her mother? It would have been the sensible thing. But no. Instead, he’d bulldozed his way onto her team and into her life. Was wanting to change her opinions about cops enough of an excuse? Had it ever been anything but an excuse to get closer to her?

  Oh, he’d gotten closer tonight, all right. Deliciously close. And he had let her leave thinking he didn’t want her.

  She had no idea how wrong she was. Well, he hoped she had at least some idea. She’d been sitting right there in his lap, where the action down there had surprised him as much as anybody. Maybe he no longer had to worry that his favorite parts might sit on the bench when up to bat, but he still had no proof that he had any control or the staying power to make it around the bases. That he wouldn’t end up humiliating himself. Or disappointing her. Or earning her pity.

  So he’d humiliated her instead.

  What was wrong with him? One minute he’d been touching the skin he’d dreamed about and kissing lips that were even softer than he’d imagined, and the next he was pushing her away as if she scared him to death. Because she did. He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman the way he wanted her. Could never remember craving a touch that went beyond erogenous zones. Or tiptoed dangerously close to emotions he would rather deny existed. Until tonight.

  That was the part that had done him in.

  It was also a flashing neon sign announcing that he needed to take a big step back from Natalie, at least as much as possible, given how inextricably he’d tied their schedules together. But before he could unweave that web, he owed her an apology for letting things get out of hand tonight, even if he couldn’t explain to her why he’d put on the brakes.

  Shane shook his head as he stared at his reflection in the mirror that his friends had lowered for his convenience. He barely recognized the guy looking back at him. The Shane Warner of six months ago would have accepted Natalie’s timid offer with a hell yes and had her painted toenails peeking out from beneath his sheets without giving the act—or her—a second thought. But he wasn’t that guy anymore.

  Had the bullet changed him by penetrating his protective vest and naive belief that his walls would make him untouchable as well? Or was Natalie his catalyst for change, her boundaries and secrets pushing him to look at his own?

  At the knock on the bathroom door, he jerked, caught thinking of her as he had been so often lately.

  “You okay in there?” Vinnie asked from outside.

  “I’m fine. Coming out now.”

  Before he did, he took one last look at the guy in the mirror. It was more than just that his hair had grown out from the super-short cut he wore on the job or that his chin was often scruffy these days instead of clean shaven. Whether it was the shooting, his too-long recovery, meeting Natalie or some combination of all those things, he wasn’t sure. But the one thing he knew for certain was the Shane Warner of six months ago no longer existed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SHANE LACED HIS fingers together and stared at his hands the next afternoon as he waited for Natalie to take him in for his appointment. Kelly had balked when he’d asked her to drop him off at the front door of the medical services building, but at least she’d agreed to leave him as soon as they reached the clinic.

  He didn’t need another one of his coworkers observing when he faced Natalie today. The kind of awkwardness that this meeting promised would be hard to hide, and he wasn’t ready to answer questions about it.

  He braced himself when the door from the clinic side swung open, but Natalie wasn’t the one standing there. Instead, a stocky woman whom he recognized from some of his other appointments smiled over at him. She wore scrubs like the other men and women in the office, but she was a little older, with a narrow strip of gray roots showing at her scalp next to her crop of short-trimmed blond hair.

  “Mr. Warner, I’m Deborah Lang. I’m a PT, and I’ll be working with you from now on.”

  His gaze shot to the open doorway, and then he looked back at her again. “But, uh, Miss Keaton...?”

  The formality of her name sounded strange coming from his mouth. The same mouth that had been so familiar with hers last night.

  The woman shook her head, but her smile remained in place as she started toward him. “There was a scheduling issue, but I’m sure the two of us will work great together. Your file is all up-to-date, so we won’t even miss a beat during the transition.”

  When she gestured toward the handles of his chair, Shane shook his head, the reality that Natalie had requested the reassignment settling over him in a hard thump. He moved his hands to his wheels but had to loosen his grip before the chair would roll forward. Great. Now he wouldn’t even have the chance to apologize to her today.

  Once they reached the activity room, Deborah directed him to a set of weight machines closer to the wall of windows. “Okay, let’s warm up with some gentle stretches.”

  Shane barely heard her as his gaze traced the length of the room to where Natalie stood on the opposite side, working with a teenage boy. The way the kid was eyeballing her—like she played a lead role in a porno film—had Shane shifting higher in his seat, something primitive and possessive flooding his veins. But Natalie didn’t seem to notice. She jotted something on the file and then smiled up at Mr. Perv, as if he didn’t deserve a long visit with the principal. Shane waited, unable to take his eyes off her and the boy. She had to notice him eventually, right? But when she did glance away from the boy, it was only toward the offices and then the wall of photos. Anywhere but at him.

  She was still furious with him about last night. He could hardly blame her. He really was a jerk, wasn’t he? What kind of guy turned down a woman like Natalie Keaton? Who had skin as soft as—

  “Mr. Warner, I’m going to need you to focus.”

  He blinked and licked his suddenly dry lips as he turned back to his new PT. “Oh. Sorry.”

  Clearly, the little hormone across the room wasn’t the only one having fantasies about the exotic brunette in scrubs.

  “No problem,” Deborah said. “Now let’s get to work.”

  If she noticed just whom he’d been watching instead of her, she didn’t mention it. But she started with exercises he’d been repeating for days instead of teaching him something new when his attention was, at best, divided. How could he focus, anyway, with Natalie so close that he could sense her presence, even when he wasn’t looking at her?

  Could she feel him, too, even as she refused to look at him? He sneaked another glance at her, but this time he caught her peeking. Then she pointedly looked away. She was still pissed, all right.

  Convinced that he really was a jerk, he began his first set using the pull-down bar. But his frustration only built with each rep. She should at least give him a chance to apologize. And were his actions really so awful that she had to transfer him? Maybe she shouldn’t have been letting a patient kiss her in the first place, but—

  He pushed away the thought as he let the weights fall with a clank. Wait a minute. She’d kissed him first. He smiled as he recalled that initial, timid touch of lips, the one that had surprised and excited him as much as any striptease ever could. She might act all indignant now,
but he wasn’t the only one responsible for last night. He planned to tell her so.

  He would also apologize for his part in it. For kissing her back. And for not stopping. If she thought she could keep avoiding him, she hadn’t taken a good look at their schedule this week. She might have been able to dodge him at work, but she would have a tougher time Thursday when they stood side by side, coaching their team to another loss.

  He would apologize to her when he saw her again. And she would listen, whether she liked it or not. Somehow, though, he had to find a way to tell her he was sorry for kissing her last night without taking her into his arms and kissing her again. And again. And again.

  * * *

  NATALIE HELD HER breath as the clock ticked down during the game Thursday night, not only because the score was actually close, but also because this had been the tensest game of her life. And she wasn’t even playing.

  The man who’d caused the butterflies to perform aerial dives in her gut wasn’t even watching her now, but she’d felt his gaze on her all night. Her senses hummed, anticipating the chance to absorb his attention again. He had effortlessly collected hers, his polo shirt doing an even better job than usual at hugging firm muscle and masculine planes, the gray color only making Shane’s eyes even bluer.

  This wasn’t fair. How was she supposed to pretend she was totally unaffected by their kiss the other night when everything about him shouted at her like a text in all caps? This was even worse than the day before, when Deborah had been working with him at the clinic. Why had she thought that removing him from her client list would solve all of her problems? That plan had only put her in a position to gawk at him from across the room when she should have been doing her job. And it had done nothing to help her avoid him at tonight’s game or the games and practices for the rest of the season.

  He’d rejected her. Whether she should have wanted him or not, the truth remained that he’d pushed her away. She should have been grateful. At least one of them had come to his senses before it was too late. She could have been angry at him, as well, for being first to put on the brakes when she would have gotten around to it...eventually. But that tight squeeze inside her chest and the sense that tears were building just beneath the surface suggested that she was far more hurt than angry.