Maddie stared straight ahead as he backed out of the loading bay and headed for the service drive that connected with the highway. He darted another glance at her, but she refused to look at him. He took out his phone and called the head of the country club’s security to tell him he was leaving the premises.
“Bruce, I take it?” she asked when he hung up.
“Yeah.”
Her phone beeped from the backseat, and she hauled her camera bag into her lap to dig through it. She checked the text message and then muttered something and looked out the window.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said through clenched teeth. Brian waited for the dam to burst. It wasn’t going to be pretty. Clearly, she was ticked off.
Well, so was he. A lack of sleep, a lack of sex, and—most of all—a lack of progress in the investigation were making him crazy. Despite today’s breakthrough, the task force still didn’t have an arrest warrant for Mladovic. Brian tried to conceal his frustration as he navigated his way across town.
This case sucked. Providing security for a woman he craved like oxygen sucked. Standing on the sidelines and watching her ex-husband hit on her sucked.
But what sucked more than anything was his deep-rooted fear that he was going to fail again and that Mladovic was going to hurt another innocent person with complete impunity, and this time, it was someone Brian cared about.
And hey, while he was thinking about it, another thing that sucked was that he’d somehow developed a thing for a woman who’d made it abundantly clear she only wanted to be his “friend.” He was doing his dead-level best to go along with that scenario, hoping in time she’d see how wrong-headed it was. He was trying to be patient, hoping she’d start taking him seriously instead of treating him like some error in judgment that she’d made after a few too many drinks. But patience had never been his strong suit, and his supply was quickly running out.
Brian pulled into her driveway and parked at the very end, a short distance from the back door. She stalked up the porch steps and had the door unlocked before he could catch up to her. She silenced the beeping alarm with a few jabs of her finger and turned to face him.
“This arrangement isn’t working.”
He deposited her tripod on the floor beside his overnight bag. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “Because it’s working great for me—just so you know. I’ve had about five hours of sleep the last three days. And my coworkers are all over me because you’re being such a pain in the ass.”
“I’m being a pain in the ass?”
“Yes.”
Her cheeks flushed as she glared at him. “How, exactly?”
“You want a list? Fine.” He tossed his keys onto the counter. “You’re one of the few living witnesses in a federal investigation, but you refuse to recognize that fact—”
“We’ve been over this already.”
“—which makes things a hell of a lot harder for people providing security for you.”
“If you guys would make an arrest, I wouldn’t need security.”
“The day after being shot by someone probably working for our chief suspect, you insist on going into work. Meaning some member of the task force—namely, me—has to chauffeur you around.”
Her eyes flashed. She didn’t like that description.
“Then, after spending another night on your couch, I get up in the morning, and you assure me you’re going to spend your Saturday doing laundry. So I go into the office to catch up on all the shit I’ve been neglecting, and what happens? I get a call from the agent assigned to you, who was supposed to spend the day running down leads on his computer but instead spent it shuttling you to and from your office—”
“I told him he didn’t have to come! He insisted. Which is ridiculous. The Delphi Center has better security than most military bases.”
Brian edged closer and glared down at her. “Ever hear of taking a vacation day? Or staying home on the weekend? Ever think of trying to make our job easier instead of harder?”
“What about my job?” she countered. “Who do you think’s going to pay my bills if I decide to bag work and miss all my deadlines?”
“Then tonight,” he said, ignoring her, “three separate agents try to talk you out of going to a freaking wedding with four hundred people, where security is guaranteed to be a nightmare. But do you listen? No. And look what happened.”
“Nothing happened! They blew a fuse. So what? And then you stuffed me into some closet and made me screw up my job.”
“I have a job to do, too, Maddie. And you’re making it damn near impossible.”
She took a deep breath and fumed up at him. “Why don’t you just admit what this is about?”
“What is this about?”
“Jolene Murphy.”
He scowled.
“She got grabbed right from under your nose, and now you’re paranoid about me.” She paused, searching his face. “I’m right, aren’t I? You’re terrified of dropping the ball again, so you’re not being logical.” She swept her arm out. “Don’t you see what this is?”
“What?”
“Overkill,” she declared. “I’ve got a burglar alarm. I’ve got a pistol. I’ve got FBI agents camped out at my house and tagging along every time I go anywhere. They’re watching my every move. Yesterday I caught LeBlanc actually looking through my mail! And you think I don’t know about the GPS you put on my car? God, you’ve probably bugged my phones and read my e-mails. It’s absolutely absurd. You’re being totally paranoid!”
“I’m not being paranoid,” he said. “And this isn’t about Jolene.”
“Then what hell is it with you?”
Brian glowered down at her. Her eyes sparked, and she looked as if she wanted to smack him.
He kissed her. She stiffened, and he felt her fingers digging into his arm. She was going to push him away and probably kick him out, and he felt a pang of fear that he’d gone too far. So he loosened his grip and slid his hand up her body as he kissed her—as gently as he could, considering how much frustration he’d stockpiled over the last few days. Ever since he’d woken up with the smell of her all over his sheets, he’d been dying to get her naked again.
But damn it, she pissed him off.
“Brian.” She tried to lean back, but he pulled her closer and kissed her with all the pent-up feelings he’d been keeping in check. Her mouth was hot and—thank God—open for him now as she made a low moan that gave him a burst of hope. He pulled her hips against him so there was no way she couldn’t know exactly what he wanted, and he felt another burst of hope when she didn’t pull away.
And he was pretty sure those fingernails digging into his neck were a good sign.
God, he wanted her. She felt and tasted even better than he remembered. He tugged her blouse out of her skirt. The fabric was thin and silky, and he slid his hand under it so he could touch her smooth skin, which was a hundred times better. He slid his fingers up, over her rib cage, and cupped the breast that seemed tailor-made for his palm. But just as he was enjoying the heavy, perfect rightness of it, her grip loosened, and she pulled away.
She blinked up at him. “I thought we agreed not to do this.”
“You agreed.” He jerked her back. She made a little yelp and looked down at her arm.
“Shit, did I hurt you?”
“No.” She glanced up at him. Then she looked away guiltily, and he knew what she was going to say. “Brian . . . I can’t do this.”
“Why not?” How could she not want this? After knowing what they were like together?
“Because. I told you. I don’t want to start some—thing together that isn’t going anywhere.”
He leaned back against the counter and smiled bitterly. He wanted to argue with her, but pride kept the words lodged in his throat.
He folded his arms over his chest and watched her. She smoothed her blouse and glanced at the clock on the kitchen w
all. She looked uncomfortable. And embarrassed. And he wasn’t going to do a damn thing to rescue her.
“It’s late,” she said, picking up her camera bag. “I think we both really need to get some sleep.”
Maddie lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling and running the conversation over in her head.
Worst of all was that look on his face when she’d mentioned Jolene. She shouldn’t have said it. The flash of guilt in his eyes would be with her for a very long time. Whatever awful things had happened to that girl, he felt responsible, and the words she’d flung at him had made him feel even more so. Picturing his face again, she felt insensitive and downright mean.
She tossed the covers back and crossed her bedroom to listen at the door. The house was quiet, not even the soft drone of the television at the other end of the hall. She groped for the robe hanging from the hook on the back of her door. Her hand encountered the silky white one that was a gift from her sister. Too sexy. She pulled the old yellow terrycloth one off the hook and wrapped it around her.
The hallway was dark, and the floor felt cool against her feet as she padded across the house. A bluish glow flickered in the living room, but the volume was muted. Was he asleep, finally? She peered around the corner.
And saw an empty couch.
“Hey.”
She whirled around and gasped. “God, don’t do that!”
He opened the refrigerator, creating a beacon of light as he reached in for a drink. He closed the door, and for a moment, the afterimage of him standing there in only his faded jeans flashed through her brain.
“Can’t sleep?” His voice was low and gravelly, and she wondered if he’d actually managed to catch a few winks.
“I’m hungry.”
“You missed dinner.” He leaned against the counter and watched her as she pulled open the fridge and took out a bottle of juice. Not that she wanted any. Now that he was actually awake, she was rethinking the wisdom of having this conversation right now.
She took a glass down from the cabinet and set it on the counter. He watched her. The light on the back porch filtered through the slats of her miniblinds. Even in the dimness, she was supremely conscious of his broad, bare shoulders and his mussed hair and the stubble darkening his jaw.
God, he was sexy. And she couldn’t believe he was standing in her kitchen in the middle of the night. More than anything, she couldn’t believe that she’d slept with him. The vivid memory of how he’d touched her and kissed her in his kitchen seemed to hover in the air between them.
He was here for work. She knew that. But she also knew it was no accident that he’d repeatedly maneuvered for the night shift.
She should get this over with. She should say what she’d come in here to say and then go back to bed. She poured some juice and stood on the other side of the sink from him, back against the counter. It seemed safer than standing within touching distance.
She took a deep breath. “Brian?”
“Hmm?”
“I owe you an apology.”
He watched her in the dimness, pretty sure he had no interest in hearing this. She’d said what she meant earlier, and nothing she told him right now was going to change a word of it. Unless she planned to take off that robe she was wearing, there wasn’t much she could do that was going to be a game changer.
And considering that she’d come in here wearing the butt-ugliest thing she probably had in her entire house, he didn’t think the odds were good that she’d suddenly changed her mind about sleeping with him.
“You’re talking about Jolene?” He untwisted the cap on the bottle and swigged some water.
“I didn’t mean what I said earlier. About you guys failing. That was unfair.”
Actually, it wasn’t. He had failed. And so far, she’d been the only person who had the guts to say it to his face.
She eased closer to him and traced her finger along the counter. “I know you feel responsible for that, and what I said was pretty crappy, especially after all the efforts you and your team have made to look out for me.”
He and his team.
She glanced up at him, and her brown eyes looked black and luminous in the darkness. And damn it, he could smell her hair again. Even from a few feet away, he caught the faintly sweet scent.
She eased closer. “So . . . you’re not saying anything. Does that mean you don’t believe me?”
“No.”
She eased around to face him. “Because I really am sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Go to bed.”
She gazed up at him, and the air was suddenly charged with electricity. Something in her eyes made his heart thud harder. He wanted to grab her again, but the prospect of getting stiff-armed twice in one night kept him cemented in place. He glanced down at the deep V of skin he’d been trying to ignore.
She stepped closer. He held his breath. His hands started to itch.
“Brian?”
“Hmm?”
She leaned up and kissed him.
CHAPTER 21
For a moment, he didn’t move. And then he pulled her against him, and she could taste all that lust he’d been keeping in check. It was as though he’d unleashed something, and she’d never in her life felt so wanted by anyone. It made her feel happy and guilty and intimidated, all at the same time. He made a low groan in his chest as he lifted her up on tiptoes and pulled her tightly against him.
What was she doing? She didn’t know. She only knew that standing with him in the darkness of her kitchen and not touching him was too impossible.
She slid her fingers into the soft bristles of his hair and tangled her tongue with his. He tasted so good. His stubble rasped against her chin as he changed the angle of the kiss, tipping her head back to gain access to her neck. She rested her head against his shoulder and inhaled the wonderfully male scent of him. How had she managed to keep her distance for so long? His hands fumbled with the belt of her robe, but it was double-knotted, another pathetic attempt to ward off temptation. He was determined, though, and soon she felt the warm slide of his hand around her breast and the roughness of his thumb. His other hand moved over her hip and pulled her closer.
“I’ve been dying to do this.”
She murmured against his mouth.
“What?” he asked.
“I know.”
Suddenly, the warmth of his hand disappeared. He scooped her off her feet, and her breath caught as he carried her out of the kitchen.
“Uh . . . where are we going?” Her pulse pounded wildly as she tried to get her mind around the idea of being carried through her house. This was another first.
“Bed.” It was more of a grunt than a word. He shifted sideways to make it through her door and dropped her unceremoniously on the rumpled sheets. And then he was right there with her, his big, muscular thigh sliding between her legs. “Another thing I’ve been dying to do—get in here with you.”
He loomed over her, and she could see the heat glinting in his eyes, and her heart started to pound even harder. She remembered that look, that body. She remembered the magic of his fingers. But everything was different this time—clearer, more vibrant, more intense, if that was even possible.
He leaned over her, kissing her thoroughly as his hand fumbled again with her belt. She brushed his fingers aside and tugged at the knot, but by the time she got it open, his hands were already sliding up her thighs and under her nightshirt.
“Just a sec.” She sat up to shrug out of her robe. He tossed it aside, then quickly lifted the shirt up and over her shoulders. The cool air swept over her skin, and she was extremely conscious of the fact that she was naked—except for the bandage on her arm—while he still had on jeans.
He reached over her to switch on the lamp.
“Hey!” Her arms came down over her breasts.
“Don’t.” The heat in his eyes sent a shiver of anticipation through her as he gently moved her arms away. She let her shoulders relax and felt another hot shiver as his gaz
e moved over her body. “Damn, Maddie.”
It was a good damn. A complimentary damn. A “damn-that-ice-cold-beer-tastes-great” damn. His gaze met hers, and she felt her skin flush. He gave her a quick kiss on the mouth.
“Stay here, okay? Don’t move.”
He jumped up and disappeared down the hallway, and of course, she did move. She switched off the lamp, which was just a tad too bright. Then she hurried to turn on the closet light. She left the door ajar, which created a nice glow in the room but kept her from feeling so self-conscious.
“Hey.”
She hurried back to the bed as he stepped into the room again. He watched her, gaze narrowed, as he deposited his gun on the dresser. Then he moved closer to the bed and put a strip of condoms on the nightstand.
Okay. So either he’d planned for this, or he just happened to carry that many around with him. Both prospects made her uncomfortable, so she put the thought out of her mind and shifted her attention to the simmering look in his eyes. She got onto her knees and slid her arms around his neck.
She still couldn’t really believe he was here, in her bedroom, after she’d spent so much time convincing herself this was a bad idea. It was hard to think that way now, as he slid his hands up her sides and kissed her with so much skill it made her heart race. His taste was addictive. And his smell. And every single thing he was doing to her felt so good. She realized, with a rush of excitement, that as incredible as it had been last time, there had been a veil of alcohol over it all. She ran her hands over his chest, and everything felt infinitely more intense—the coarseness of his hair under her palms, the warm slide of his hands down the back of her thighs, the sharp male taste of his tongue against hers. Everything he was doing thrilled her, and she tried to focus on that instead of the repercussions she was going to have to face in the morning.
I know it’s complicated, but I like you.
He was going to go there again, and her heart made a little lurch as she thought about what she’d say, because her drunken-lapse-in-judgment excuse wasn’t going to work again.
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