She’d become accustomed to the idea of sharing her special place with Ryker in surprisingly short order. Maybe because he fit in so easily. The man adapted himself to new situations with a skill that amazed her. She imagined he would be as comfortable in a hammock or a submarine bunk as in a king-size bed. Harry’s attorney had told her that Ryker’s home was wherever he could plug in his computer.
But she wasn’t comfy without her thick terry bathrobe and warm slippers, her cats curled in her lap and at her feet and a cup of hot tea within easy reach. Surrounding herself with her plants was like feeding her soul and as necessary as a daily shower.
So why were she and Ryker good together?
They had no possible future as a couple. Not when their lives were so dissimilar. For all practical purposes, Ryker was a mercenary, a soldier for hire. His work didn’t allow him to put down roots. She wanted a man whose interests matched her own. A man who lived in one place. A man who didn’t jeopardize his life on a daily basis. Yet, as she watched Ryker drive her car with relaxed concentration, his capable fingers on the wheel, she almost wished that he could adapt to her lifestyle on a permanent basis. Wished he could hang around long enough for them to give their relationship a chance to root. But when he finished helping her, he would be off to his next assignment in Kuwait or South Africa or Afghanistan.
She wouldn’t choose a man like Ryker for a husband. Therefore she wouldn’t allow herself to fall for him.
And why was she even thinking about the future when she didn’t know if she had one? The D.A. could issue an arrest warrant for her any day. And murderers rarely got bail. For all she knew, these hours might be the last free ones she’d ever have. And they’d wasted the day talking to her employees and finding out absolutely nothing useful.
She must have grunted or sighed in frustration, because Ryker turned down the radio. “What?”
“I can’t help but feeling that we’re running out of time.”
“I always feel that way when I’m on a case. Once I take on a mission, time speeds up. It’s a natural law of the universe.”
He sounded so happy. “And you enjoy living under this kind of pressure?”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
He was completely serious. He enjoyed living on the edge. Indeed, confronting challenges and facing danger seemed to suit his personality. She gazed at him. His alert eyes were focused on the road, yet he constantly checked the rearview mirror for tails. And she had no doubt that after today’s conversations with Cindy, Mike and Sam, Ryker already had a list to check on the Internet. And she was sure he was as eager to follow up the leads as she was to import some exotic new flower.
Daria knew she’d built herself a nest where she felt safe to combat her childhood anxiety about forever being shipped off to a new school or summer camp, but she didn’t understand Ryker at all. Maybe he’d lived in one Podunk town all his life and had craved adventure.
“Did you move around much as a kid?”
“All the time.” So much for her idea. “Remember, my dad was a drunk. He lost his job every few months. We usually moved in the middle of the night, the bill collectors two steps behind.”
“That must have been rough.”
“It was no big deal. Usually exciting.”
“What about being the new kid at school all the time?”
“I was good at sports. Later, most of the kids I knew were online.” She noted he hadn’t used the word friend. “I could plug in anywhere.” He cast a sideways glance at her. “Why are we having this conversation?”
“All day I’ve been thinking that no one I know is turning out to be what I thought. Can we really ever know someone?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve worked with Sam for two years, and I never suspected he would do anything criminal. Or convince Cindy to invest in his scheme. I feel as if everything I’ve thought to be true is wrong.”
“That’s the first sign of a top-notch investigator.”
“Questioning everyone and everybody?” She felt as though her world had turned inside out, and he was complimenting her because she couldn’t make sense of it. “I don’t want to live in that kind of world.”
“The world hasn’t changed. You’re just looking at it differently.”
“But I don’t want to.”
She sounded like a petulant three-year-old, but her life seemed like one surprise after another—all of them bad. Except for knowing Ryker, she wanted to erase the last couple of months. Go back to when— no matter how distorted—she’d viewed the world through rose-colored glasses.
“Up till now you’ve led a rather sheltered and protected existence.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Except change tends to be uncomfortable when you’re unprepared.”
She might have trouble understanding him, but he had pegged her with a simple philosophy that she couldn’t deny. She and Fallon might not have grown up loved, but they’d never wanted for a thing. And their business had been a success right from the start. While Daria had struggled to achieve her goals, she’d always set attainable goals, easy goals, especially in her personal life.
She’d dated men without letting anyone get close. She’d kept busy with her career, allowing work to substitute for close relationships. She’d never been engaged, or really in love. Never really thought about marriage in a way other than abstract. Because that would require more of herself than she’d been willing to risk. But if she didn’t risk her heart, she wasn’t ever going to find a soul mate.
Of course, she had to go and have this epiphany now while she was with a man who was unlikely to stay in one place long enough for her to get to know him well. When she could be sent to jail at any time. When she could do absolutely nothing about making some changes.
“Did I insult you?”
She shook her head. “Why would stating the truth insult me? You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“You needn’t worry about being unprepared to handle yourself. I’ve prepared enough for both of us.”
In another man the words might have been a boast. But Ryker had simply stated the facts as he saw them to comfort her. However, something in his intonation told her that she might not like his “preparations.”
From that look in his eyes, he was thinking about the case. She wished he would forget work for one more night. Tomorrow was Elizabeth’s funeral and she needed to unwind and wondered how much persuasion it would take to get him to make love to her again.
He parked the car in her garage, but instead of getting out he turned to face her. “I’ve invited a few people to your apartment.” He’d invited people into her home? “They’re probably already inside.”
“But the locks? My alarm?”
“I gave Logan Kincaid the code. And the man’s never met a lock he couldn’t pick.”
“YOU INVITED STRANGERS into my home?” Daria had the urge to slap Ryker’s handsome face but she’d probably just hurt her hand. He’d twisted in his seat toward her so they could talk, but Daria didn’t want to listen. She practically leaped out of the car and headed toward the parking garage’s elevator. Just because she’d allowed Ryker to spend a few nights in her apartment, just because they’d made love and she wanted to do so again, didn’t give him the right to let his friends into her apartment without telling her first.
Before she’d taken two steps from the car, Ryker had caught up to her. He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to turn around. His determined eyes told her that he had no intention of letting her go. But he had no right to stop her.
“What?” she snapped.
“You aren’t going up there to insult the people I work with.”
“You should have told me you’d invited them into my home.” She tried to shove past him.
His voice cracked like a pistol and she might as well have tried to shove a mountain aside. Ryker was rooted like a hundred-year-old oak, his face rock hard. “I made a mistake by
not telling you until now.”
“Damn right you did.”
She tried to twist around him. He shifted directly in her path, blocking her, and she found her back against a concrete post.
He softened his tone. “I guess I’ll have to make it up to you.”
“Damn right you will.”
He might have her pinned so she could neither advance nor retreat, but she refused to back down. His pinning her with his body had her breath coming in gulps and her nostrils flaring.
Ryker lowered his head, placed his mouth over hers and cut off her protest. She had no place to go. He positioned his hands on the concrete on both sides of her head. Trapping her.
She gasped and he took advantage of her open mouth, his tongue slipping between her lips with practiced ease.
And she melted. If this was how he intended to apologize to her, then she’d have to let him make it up to her more often.
He could shut her up with a kiss like this anytime. When he could reduce her to mush, take away her will just by touching his lips to hers, she just wanted to know where this man had been all her life. She lived in the financial capital of the world. And she loved playing Jane to his Tarzan as if they were alone in the jungle instead of right in the middle of a parking garage.
The man sure could kiss, as if he was in complete control, and the sensations darting through her were absolutely yummy. His lips on hers had at first shocked her, then taunted her, then fired her emotions to a new level of intensity. He pulled her close, trapping her hands between them, taking what he wanted, ravishing her mouth.
And she wanted him. Her belly unknotted at the sparks he’d kindled. She didn’t want to stop the uncontrollable urge to yield to him utterly and completely. And her heart unlocked like a rosebud in summer sunshine.
At that moment, she was responding to him on pure instinct. Somehow he’d made her wanton. And her body didn’t care that her mind was confused at her needy response. She arched into him, her breasts tingling as he crushed her to him. Her heart thundered and her pulse zinged hotter than heat lightning.
He kept his body up close and pressed to hers, but finally released her mouth—after he was good and ready, after he’d proved to her that he could make her head spin anytime he chose.
As apologies went on a scale of one to ten, his had been a twelve. She hadn’t expected to enjoy his manhandling. But she liked his chest pressed to hers. She liked that he made her feel wanted.
Thinking clearly while he pressed her against the concrete column was next to impossible. With her thoughts tumbling about, she couldn’t say a word, not until she regained her equilibrium. Never in her life had her brain said no while her heart said yes. She needed time to figure out what was happening, why she was reacting with such uncharacteristic passion while they were in the middle of a parking garage where anyone could come by and see them making a spectacle of themselves. Fallon had been the Harrington who’d allowed passion to rule her life. Daria was the solid, competent sister, the sensible one. She didn’t have flings—only relationships with men who asked before they kissed a woman.
Ryker Stevens didn’t ask. He took. He might wear a suit with panache. He might have mastered the intricacies of the latest technological advances, but he’d just again proved he had a wild side. And that he hadn’t yet released her proved he just might not be done yet, which shot another tingle of excitement down her spine.
He spoke, invading her space, pinning her firmly. “My friends aren’t the type to paw through your panties. Logan Kincaid worked for NORAD and NASA, probably programming this country’s satellite communications network. His security clearance is classified so high that it’s classified.
“Web Garfield is ex-CIA and a master in several different martial arts. If you aimed a gun on him from sixteen feet away, before you could pull the trigger, he could kick the weapon out of your hand.
“Jack Donovan can pilot any aircraft with wings and many without. He’s the kind that swoops in to save people while the bad guys are shooting. The man’s crazy enough to enjoy risking his life.
“Last but not least is Travis Cantrel. Don’t let his laid-back Texas drawl or the diamond twinkling in his ear fool you. He’s ex-FBI and the best hostage negotiator in the northern hemisphere.”
She listened until he stopped talking. Maybe she’d overreacted. Again. But he should have told her. That was Ryker’s fault.
Suddenly she wondered when she’d started blaming him for everything she didn’t like. That character trait wasn’t attractive.
Be calm.
Think rationally.
But how could she be calm when she could feel his heartbeat right through her clothes? When she could feel his desire pressing into her belly?
Even as she craved the physical sensation of his warmth against hers, his heat inside her, she wished he’d stop crowding her and allow her thoughts to settle down. “All right. I’m willing to take your word that they aren’t going to steal my jewelry, but why are they here?”
“They’re coming to Elizabeth’s funeral tomorrow.”
“Why?” And what did that have to do with them staying in her place while she wasn’t there?
“Because we need help. I suspect that the killer will be at the funeral tomorrow. I want the crowd on tape. I want certain conversations bugged. And I want you protected. I can’t possibly cover all the bases by myself.”
“That part sounds reasonable.”
“And I invited them into your home because it makes my job easier. I need to brief them. We don’t have much time. And I don’t want Detective O’Brien catching on to our spying, and interfering with our investigation.”
“They’re spending the night? I only have the guest room and my office.”
“Don’t worry, we probably won’t get much sleep anyway. And if I need a few winks, I’ll double up with you.”
“You’re presuming a lot.”
“Am I?”
“Just because we made love one time—”
He kissed her again, shutting up her protest. And he fired up her senses all over again. No one had ever treated her with such arrogance. But he seemed to know just what she wanted, even before she knew, herself.
She trembled against him in pure female need. His clever mouth knew exactly how to caress hers to stoke a fire that roared to her primitive soul. He was reaching her on an elemental plane, bypassing her brain and heart and searing her right to her feminine core. And despite her feeble thoughts that this was a public place, his domination was utterly delicious.
He pulled back his head and body just enough so she could free her hands. And she had just enough caution left to once again try to shove him away. In a gentle move he captured both wrists in one of his hands and pinned them over her head.
Automatically her back arched, lifting her breasts up to him. She opened her eyes and stared into his face. His eyes gleamed in the semidarkness of the parking garage, revealing enough to see his predatory gleam. And her mouth went dry.
He reached below her skirt and touched the inside of her knee. His feet between hers kept her legs open for him to do as he wished.
He skimmed his fingertips from the inside of her knee up her thigh. His voice was low, husky. “If you don’t want me, I’ll stop, but I’m not through apologizing.”
Her throat was so tight, she couldn’t speak. She just stared at him, amazed she could want him so badly that she no longer cared that they were in a parking garage.
His fingers reached the top of her stocking, traced the garter and bare skin, shimmied over bare thigh. All that prevented him from touching her intimately was a tiny scrap of lace. She couldn’t stop the quiver in her belly or the trembling of her legs. If he hadn’t kept her pressed with her back to the column and pinned her wrists over her head, she might have sunk to the pavement.
“If I touch you, will I find you slick and wet and ready for me?”
“Maybe.”
His voice deepened. “You’ve lef
t me no choice but to see for myself.”
In her befuddled state, she thought he would remove her panties. Instead, he lifted her wrists, placed her hands on the one-way sign above her head. She clenched her fingers around the metal to hold herself up.
She should stop him.
But she couldn’t bring herself to say one word to end Ryker’s delicious onslaught. Not when every cell in her body longed for him to continue.
He stepped back six inches. Just enough for him to unbutton her blouse. “Look at me,” he commanded.
He unbuttoned the top button. She swallowed hard, tilted her head back and met the red-hot heat in his eyes with a fire all her own. Slowly he unfastened the second button as her chest rose and fell with impatience. Why was he taking so long with the buttons? Why must he skim his hands over every tiny part of bared flesh before going on to the next button?
Finally, he parted her blouse. Boldly he freed her breasts and the tips hardened with her need to be stroked.
Continuing to hold her gaze, gently he covered each breast with one hand. “Do you know why you’re letting me do this?” Her breasts swelled under his caress and she bit her tongue not to beg for more. “Do you know why you want me to continue?”
She couldn’t think. Not when he held her halfway between raw passion and the ultimate pleasure. So she bit her lip and refused to say one word.
When he flicked her nipples with his thumbs, she let out a soft moan. “Someone might come by.”
“They might,” he conceded with a charming grin.
But probably not. It was the weekend. Almost dark. And she didn’t want him to stop what he’d started. Not with her breasts aching and swelling under his masterful touch, not when she had to fight back the whimpers of need in the back of her throat.
Then he dipped his head and nibbled first one breast, then the other, shooting fire to her core. At the same time his hand slipped back under her skirt. He touched her through her panties and she couldn’t help thrusting her hips toward him, silently demanding more.
Defending the Heiress Page 15