Nowhere to Run

by Suzanne Brockmann

  Taking a deep breath, she opened the bathroom door and went out into the living room.

  Jim was sitting on the couch, staring down into a cup of coffee. He looked awful. Emily was willing to bet that he’d been awake all night, no doubt still kicking himself for failing to be a perfect cop. Still, when he glanced up at her, he forced a smile.

  “Hey,” he said. “Good morning. There’s a fresh pot of coffee on.”

  Emily set her beach bag by the door and went into the kitchen. She poured herself a mug.

  “Emily,” Jim said, and she jumped, sloshing the hot coffee onto her hand.

  He swore softly and put his own mug down on the counter. Moving toward the sink, he turned on the cold water.

  “You startled me,” Emily said. “I didn’t hear you follow me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jim said. He reached for her hand, to pull it under the stream of cool water, but she shook her head.

  “I’m all right.”

  He took her hand anyway. “Humor me.”

  The water was cold, and it contrasted oddly with the warmth of Jim’s hand. She glanced up to find him watching her, and she quickly looked away. But he was standing way too close. She could smell traces of his shampoo in his still-damp hair. She could smell the fresh, tangy soap he’d used when he showered. He’d shaved this morning, too, and his lean face was smooth and seemingly vulnerable without his tough-guy stubble. Emily resisted the sudden urge to reach out and touch his cheek.

  As he reached across the sink to turn off the tap, she risked another glance at him. He seemed preoccupied now, and his eyes were unfocused as he tore a paper towel from the roll and handed it to her.

  “I need to tell you what happened last night,” she said as she dried her hands.

  Jim looked at her then, his gaze suddenly sharp and very, very blue. “No, you don’t,” he said quietly. He smiled then. It came out forced and a little shaky, but it was sweet just the same. His eyes held a glimmer of pain as he reached forward to push her hair back from her face. His fingers lingered briefly on the curve of her cheek. “Whatever happened last night is all right,” he said. “It’s over and done with, anyway.”

  Emily stood frozen by an icy wave of disbelief. “You still think I…You still think Alex and I…”

  “Didn’t you?” Jim shook his head, catching himself. “No, don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter.”

  But it did matter. “You think I let Alex have sex with me last night,” Emily said. The icy cold turned suddenly to red-hot anger. “You think that’s how I got that invitation onto his boat, don’t you?”

  Jim was looking away from her, down at the floor. He didn’t answer, so Emily shoved him, hard. “You do think that, don’t you?” she said.

  He looked up at her in surprise. Her eyes were flashing, and she looked mad enough to spit. After the way she’d shoved him, he wouldn’t be surprised if she did. Spit, that is. And right at him.

  “Listen up, Detective,” Emily said hotly, “because I’m only going to say this one more time. My relationship with Alex Delmore is not, nor has it ever been, nor will it ever be, sexual. I have never slept with the man. Not last night, not any night. Can you get that through your thick skull? Last night Alex and I went to Marty and Ken’s house, we swam in their new pool and tried out their new hot tub. Then we went back to the Home Free, and Alex checked his calendar to see when he was available to take you for a sail. Then I came home.”

  Swam in their pool. Emily had gone swimming. That was why she’d looked so disheveled. She hadn’t slept with Delmore. Jim started to laugh with relief. God, had he gotten it all wrong!

  “What, you think this is funny?” Emily said. “You can go to hell, Keegan. I hear it’s really funny there, too.”

  She was so mad, tears of anger blurred her vision as she spun toward the front door. How dare he think she would sleep with Alex, particularly now, when she suspected that the man was a criminal! How dare Jim assume such things!

  Jim caught her arm as she bent down to pick up her beach bag. “Em, wait! Please—”

  She pulled hard to get away from him and caught her foot in one of the large loop handles of the bag. She went down hard, with Jim following close behind. He twisted to avoid landing directly on top of her.

  With the air knocked out of her, Emily couldn’t protest as Jim pulled her onto his lap.

  “Listen to me,” he said, holding her tightly to keep her from squirming away. “Just listen, damn it! I thought you and Alex already were…you know…involved, because I couldn’t…I still can’t believe there’s a man alive who could spend any time at all with you without falling in love with you—without wanting to make love to you.”

  Emily felt the fight drain from her. She felt her anger dissolve, leaving only hurt. No one loved her. No one. “You’re wrong,” she whispered.

  “I spent half of last night trying not to imagine you making love to him,” he said huskily, as if he hadn’t heard her protest. Emily sat quietly now, listening to his soft voice, too worn-out to protest. “And I spent the other half trying to talk myself into believing that if you had made love to Delmore, it didn’t matter. But it did matter. It does matter. I don’t want him touching you.”

  Jim touched her bare arm, sliding his fingers along her smooth skin from her shoulder to her hand, much the same way Alex had done at lunch the other day. But while Alex’s touch had repulsed her, Jim’s sent arrows of sensation shooting through her body. Emily shivered as he gently entangled his fingers in her hair.

  “I don’t want him kissing you, either,” Jim murmured, pulling her head back so that she was looking directly up at him through a shimmer of tears. The heat in his eyes was unmistakable, but Emily couldn’t move, couldn’t run away. He moistened his lips, and she closed her eyes as he lowered his mouth to hers in a tender kiss.

  She heard his sudden intake of breath as she opened her mouth to him and willingly deepened the kiss. He tasted of coffee and desire, sweet and hot. His tongue filled her mouth, and she angled her head, wanting more, more. Maybe this was just a lie. Maybe she was only fooling herself, maybe this was make-believe, but damn it, when he kissed her, when he touched her, she felt loved. And she needed that right now. She needed him.

  He shifted her weight on his lap, turning her so that she was facing him, and he kissed her again, even harder this time.

  “I don’t want him making love to you,” Jim breathed as he trailed hot kisses down her throat.

  He lowered her onto the floor, and she welcomed the weight of his muscular body on top of hers. She pulled him even closer, drawing him between her legs and pressing herself upward to meet the hard evidence of his arousal.

  He groaned—it was a low, guttural sound, born half of ecstasy, half of despair. Emily gasped as his hand covered her breast, as he caught her hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She clung to him, hot with desire and dizzy from a barrage of emotions so intense she could barely breathe. This game of make-believe they were playing wasn’t all pretend. She loved him. After all this time, after all he’d done, after the way he’d hurt her, Emily had fallen in love with Jim Keegan all over again.

  He pushed her T-shirt up and unfastened the front clasp of her bra. He caressed her breasts first with his hands, then with his mouth.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re so beautiful.”

  Emily was lost. As she ran her fingers through the silky dark waves of his hair, she knew that she was making a colossal mistake, but she was past caring. She needed him, here and now, and here and now was what James Keegan was best at.

  She tugged at his T-shirt, and he pulled it off as she slipped her own shirt over her head.

  Then Jim did the unexpected. He hesitated. Kneeling there between her legs, the heat in his eyes strong enough to burn her, a sheen of perspiration making his tanned chest glisten, the corded muscles standing out in his strong arms as he supported his weight above her, he actually hesitated. “Em, do you think�
�”

  She reached up for him, answering him with the blazing heat of a kiss, with the shockingly intimate sensation of skin against skin, soft breasts against hard muscle. No, she didn’t want to think. She wanted to feel, only to feel.

  Jim was lost. Caught in the explosive passion of her embrace, he didn’t stand a chance. Something had happened to make Emily give in to the desire that sprang to life whenever they exchanged even a glance, but he didn’t know what or why that something was. Finding out what had changed her mind mattered to him, and he knew he should stop kissing her, stop touching her, pull free from her arms. But her lips were so sweet, her body so soft, and God, it had been so long. His body was weak, and his heart was on fire. After seven years of the occasional poor substitute, and days and nights filled with a desperate loneliness he hadn’t even recognized, he couldn’t stop.

  Her long, slender fingers were in his hair, touching him, stroking his back, his arms. Jim caught his breath as she reached between them and unfastened the top button of his shorts. The zipper stuck, and her touch was excruciatingly light as she attempted to pull it down. He took her hand and pressed it against him, against the hard bulge of his sex.

  She gazed up at him, her beautiful eyes luminous, the rose-colored tips of her full breasts taut with desire. Her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath she took as she touched him.

  “I need you,” she whispered, and Jim felt a surge of heat so strong he had to close his eyes and pull back slightly to keep from losing his control.

  And then he kissed her, returning her words with the urgency of his mouth against hers. He wished desperately that he could somehow make time stand still. He wanted this moment to last forever, this hot anticipation of knowing, of actually knowing, that he was going to make love to Emily. He wanted to be able to carry it with him always. He wanted to be able to look across a crowded room to meet Emily’s eyes, and see a hint of this same liquid fire, to see this promise of paradise. He wanted to wear it like a bulletproof vest, protecting him from the pain and despair he was forced to face nearly every day out on the city’s streets.

  Except he wanted to know that there was something precious behind the desire in her eyes as she looked at him. He wanted more than lust to spark the flame of her need. He wanted Emily to love him.

  He wanted more than he deserved.

  She pulled again at his zipper, and this time it opened. And instead of time standing still, life went into fast-forward. Emily pushed him over onto his back, and together they pulled his shorts and his briefs down his legs. Her hand closed tightly around his shaft, and he reached for her. He pulled her onto his lap, burying his face in the exquisite softness of her breasts. His hands explored the smooth curve of her derriere as he noted with amazement that somehow, over the course of the past few seconds, the last of her clothes had disappeared.

  Without a word of warning, she shifted her weight and, with one swift motion, ensheathed him with her smooth, moist heat.

  Jim heard himself cry out as she set a rhythm that was too fast, too strong, a wild, furious, plunging movement that stripped him of the last of his control and drove him mercilessly to the edge.

  But he wasn’t wearing any protection. He was seconds from release, and he would have sold his soul to the devil for a chance to send his seed deep inside this woman he loved so fiercely. In less time than it took to blink an eye, Jim imagined Emily pregnant with his child. In less than a second, he saw a baby—their baby—growing into a child. He saw himself as he’d never imagined himself before—happy in a way he’d never known, happy with an inner peace, with a deep contentment, secure in his love for his family, secure in the warmth of their love for him.

  He wanted that. Oh, how he wanted that.

  But that was only a fantasy. Emily didn’t love him. And he loved her way too much to risk burdening her with an unwanted pregnancy.

  Jim took her by the hips and lifted her up and off him.

  “No,” she breathed, kissing his neck and his freshly shaven face. “I don’t want to stop—”

  “Let me get a condom, Em,” Jim said hoarsely, straining to reach his shorts and the wallet that was still in his back pocket. His fingers fumbled, and his money spilled onto the floor, but even so, he doubted he’d ever put a condom on quite that quickly before.

  Emily waited just long enough for him to finish covering himself before she straddled him again. But Jim picked her up and pressed her back against the floor.

  “My turn,” he whispered, gazing into her eyes as he entered her slowly.

  He took his time. Each stroke lasted an eternity, filling her deeply and ending with a kiss that claimed her completely. It was exquisite torture, stripping her of the last of her defenses, leaving her vulnerable, all her feelings exposed.

  Emily closed her eyes, afraid that if she continued to hold Jim’s electric blue gaze, he’d see her for the fool that she was. He would know that she loved him.

  She arched up toward him, pulling him down so that the full weight of his body was on top of her. She locked her legs around him, and he groaned, moving faster now, in sync with her every need.

  “Em,” he breathed, and she opened her eyes.

  He was still watching her, his eyes bright, almost feverish, beneath his half-closed lids. His hair curled as it clung to his slick skin, and a bead of perspiration trailed down past his ear. Emily reached up to catch it with one finger, and he pressed his cheek into her palm.

  “You’re making me crazy,” he said huskily. “We gotta slow down, or—”

  But she didn’t want to slow down. He might not love her, but she knew that when it came down to sex, she had power over him. Right now, as they made love, she was in control.

  It was a sad consolation, an unfair trade-off, considering that the rest of the time Jim was running the show. He owned her heart, and Emily was forced to confront the truth: he’d probably own it for the rest of her life. She, on the other hand, owned only his body, and only for the next few minutes.

  But if she had anything to say about it, it was going to be one hell of a next few minutes.

  She pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him fiercely, increasing the slow rhythm of their bodies to a wild, primitive pace, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. She felt his arms tighten around her. She felt his body tense, then heard him cry out her name as he exploded inside of her.

  And then she was no longer in control. Her body answered his, wave upon wave of exquisite pleasure surrounding her, lifting her, rocketing her to a height she’d only dreamed possible. She loved him. Absolutely. Completely. And unrequitedly.

  It was over then, and tears stung Emily’s eyes as she drifted back to earth.

  Jim lifted his head, slowly becoming aware that he was still lying on top of Emily. She had her eyes tightly closed, and she only opened them very briefly as he rolled off her. He drew her into his arms, and she nestled against him, pressing her face into his neck, as if her body were cold, rather than slick with sweat and hot to the touch.

  He kissed the top of her head, and slowly stroked her from her shoulder blades to her buttocks and up again.

  Reality wormed its ugly way into the picture as Jim realized they were lying on the tan carpeting in front of the door. In front of the door, for crying out loud. He hadn’t even had enough class to take her on the living room floor. He hadn’t even taken the time to walk the few extra steps needed to make it to the couch. What a guy.

  He sighed, wishing she would say something, anything. He wished she would tell him that she loved him. Of course, it was entirely possible that she was lying there next to him wishing the same damn wish, wasn’t it?

  Jim cleared his throat. “Hey, Em?”

  She didn’t move.

  He cleared his throat again. “I gotta tell you, um…” This was a lot harder than he thought it would be. Come on, Keegan. Three words. Pronoun, verb, pronoun. Not that challenging. All he had to do was put them in the right order. Of course, he knew d
amn well it was what those three little words meant that made them so hard to say. But he meant it with all his heart. And he’d missed his chance to say it seven years ago. Besides, maybe, just maybe, she was wishing he’d say it….

  “I, um…” Jim had to clear his throat one more time. Then he said it. He took a deep breath and just said it. “Emily, I love you.”

  Emily stiffened. Then she sat up, pulling away from him, and quickly gathered up her clothes. So much for thinking that she wanted to hear him say it…His heart sank, and he felt slightly sick. He had a bad feeling that things were going to start spiraling in a downward direction pretty damn fast.

  But she didn’t say a word to him. She simply pulled her shirt over her head, not bothering to take the time to put her bra on again, and quickly slipped into her underpants and shorts. She stood up then, without even giving him a second glance, and walked down the hall toward the bathroom.

  “Hey!” Jim sat up, a burst of anger replacing the heart-sick feeling. “You’re not going to say anything? You’re just going to walk away? Thanks a lot, it was fun?”

  She didn’t turn around.

  Jim stood up in one quick motion and followed her down the hall. He caught the bathroom door before she closed it, bracing one hand on the door, the other on the frame.

  “I believe the correct response should be ‘Thanks a lot, it was a blast,’” she said. Her voice was cool, but she didn’t meet his eyes. “So thanks a lot. It was a—”

  Jim reeled. “Oh, perfect.”

  She started to close the bathroom door, and he spun back, again forcing it to remain open. He was standing there naked, but he didn’t care.

  “Damn it, I just told you that I love you.” His voice cracked with emotion, but Emily didn’t seem to notice.

  She bristled with anger. “Does it work better that way?” she said. “It probably does. Women probably like it better when you pretend to love them. It makes the sex seem less cheap, I bet.” She pushed past him, out of the bathroom. “Well, you blew it this time, Romeo. You forgot that I know you. I know how you operate. Love’s not a part of your game. Don’t insult my intelligence by pretending that it is.”