Cover Me (The Donovan Family Book 5)

by Margaret Watson

  Cilla and Brendan were the only ones left in the parking lot. Neither of them moved. Finally, Cilla started walking. "The sooner the band starts playing again, the sooner things will get back to normal in the pub."

  "Yeah." Brendan fell into step beside her. "Interesting to see if anyone is gone."

  She glanced at him, surprised at how quickly flirting Brendan could morph into Detective Donovan. "Do you recognize enough people to figure out who isn't there?"

  "I might. We'll see. We'll talk afterward." He put his hand on her back, sliding it beneath the edges of her shirt. His big, warm hand settled at her lower back like he'd set up camp there.

  Damn it! When she'd chosen to wear this shirt tonight, she hadn't planned on being so close to him. She tried to wriggle away from him, but he merely flattened his palm against her muscles until she felt each of his fingers. Every twitch of his hand.

  Her heart thudded in her chest. She got the message. Brendan wasn't giving up that easily.

  She straightened her spine and stepped away from him. Neither was she.

  As they reached the front door, Brendan slowed. He curled his fingers around her wrist to slow her, as well. "At the end of the night, we'll put on a show again, then you get in your car and follow me. Like we're going home together. You can come back to my place again."

  "Right." She rolled her eyes. "Like that's gonna happen. We'll find a neutral place. We can figure out which one later."

  He nuzzled her hair, and she could feel him smile. "Worth a try."

  "I thought you were supposed to be Mr. Smooth, Donovan. What happened to your game?"

  "You talking to people about me, Cilla?" He bent closer. "I'm flattered. And my game? You stole it the moment you stepped out of that hot car on the Ryan."

  He let go of her wrist, cupped her ass and squeezed. When she knocked his hand away, he kissed her on the neck and swung the door open. "See you after the show."

  Chapter 11

  By the time the last note of the band's last song faded away, Cilla's nerves were strung as tightly as the strings on George's guitar. Everyone in the pub had been subdued. They'd stood around in groups, talking in low voices. Gesturing. They hadn't paid much attention to the band.

  A few guys had wandered over at the second break, looking for a chance to buy her tea, but most of the men hung back. As if chasing a hot woman was inappropriate on a night when someone might have died in the parking lot.

  She'd asked the guys clustered around her at the bar if anyone had heard about the guy in the parking lot, but they all shook their heads. No one knew a thing.

  The pub emptied more quickly than usual, too. Now there were only a few clusters of people left. She'd caught only glimpses of Brendan from time to time. Maybe he'd have some information.

  He hadn't reappeared by the time her keyboards were packed and ready to go. She curled her fingers around the cases, wondering what she should do. Take them out herself? Wait for Brendan?

  What would the hot keyboard player do?

  Hot Cilla didn't wait for anyone, she decided. So she hefted them into her hands and headed for the door.

  "Lover boy find someone else?" The male voice behind her sounded both cocky and arrogant. "Good riddance. I'll carry those for you tonight."

  Cilla set down the cases and turned to find Angry Bro too close. Another step and he'd be plastered against her.

  "What's your name?" she asked.

  "Mike. Mike Smith," he smirked.

  She barely resisted rolling her eyes. Really? He expected her to believe that was his real name? But she flashed him a quick smile. "Thanks, Mike, but I've got them."

  The smirk became angry glare, complete with clenched jaw and slashes of red on his cheeks. "What? You'll spread them for that pretty boy, but nobody else gets a chance?"

  Cilla set the cases carefully on the stage. Where 'Mike' couldn't kick them. "You're an unpleasant guy, Mike. No wonder you leave here alone every night."

  He clenched his fists and took a step closer. She smelled the alcohol on his breath and the ripe scent of a male who'd perspired too much. "You're pathetic," she said. She braced for a fight, although she was pretty sure it wouldn't happen. Bullies operated in the dark. Where no one could see them. Not in front of twenty other people. "Get out of here."

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the bouncer approaching. "Everything okay, Cilla?"

  "Fine, Andy. Mike here was just leaving."

  Andy folded his massive arms across his chest and stared at 'Mike'. Mike stared back. After a few seconds, he shoved past Cilla and out the door.

  "If he shows up again, watch him," she told Andy quietly. "He's got some anger problems."

  "Want me to keep him out?"

  She hesitated. She didn't think he was their dealer – too hot-headed. Too much anger. Not calculating enough. But she couldn't rule anyone out yet. "Nah," she finally said. "He's an idiot, but that's not against the law."

  "I'll give him another chance. But if he gives you any more trouble, he's gone."

  "Thanks, Andy. You're a sweetheart."

  The bouncer blushed. "I'd do the same for any of our people."

  'Our people.' The simple acknowledgement made her smile after this difficult night. "Good to know you have my back," Cilla said, bending to pick up her keyboards.

  "Want me to walk you out?" Andy asked. "In case he's waiting for you?"

  She was about to say yes, but a disturbance in the air current told her someone was behind her. Brendan.

  She wasn't sure how she knew – he hadn't said anything. And the smell of spilled beer in the almost-empty pub hid his scent.

  But it was Brendan.

  "I'll walk her out, Andy," he said easily, touching her back. "But thanks."

  Andy studied Cilla. "That okay with you?"

  "It's fine. Thanks again."

  Andy nodded and moved away. Brendan lifted the two cases from the stage and headed for the door. She opened it, held it for him and walked out behind him.

  "What happened?" he asked as the door closed behind him.

  "I'll tell you later," she said in a low voice. She suspected 'Mike' was waiting somewhere.

  Brendan moved a step closer. The instinctive protectiveness should have irritated her. If Mike was around and looking for trouble, she knew how to take care of herself. She didn't need protecting.

  But instead of pissing her off, Brendan's unconscious gesture made a warm glow flutter in her chest. She wasn't alone. She had a partner who would stand with her. Have her back.

  The way she'd have his back.

  The parking lot was deserted. They didn't see anyone by the time they reached her car. She popped the hatch and Brendan swung the cases into the storage area. Then he drew her to the driver's side of the car, as if planning on helping her get in.

  Instead, he pressed her against the cold metal of the door and braced his hands on either side of her head. "You gonna tell me what happened?" he said, brushing her mouth with his.

  To anyone watching, they were a pair of lovers, cranking up the anticipation of how the night was going to end. She draped her hands over his shoulders and ruffled the hair at his nape. "Our Angry Bro. Mike Smith, or so he says. He wanted to carry the keyboards. Didn't like hearing no."

  Brendan eased his body closer, until only a breath of air separated them. "Do I need to straighten him out?"

  She nuzzled his ear and carded her fingers through his hair. "Took care of that myself. Then Andy showed up, watched him leave."

  Brendan scowled. "If he comes back, I'll kick his ass."

  The possessiveness that filled his expression gave her a tiny thrill.

  She was an idiot. "I'll be fine. He can't be that stupid."

  "Never underestimate a man's stupidity when his cock is involved."

  "Is that right?" A car engine cranked in the parking lot, and when she heard its tires crunching the gravel, she moved closer to Brendan. Show time. "And you know this from experience?"


  "Hell, yes." He slid one leg between hers and cupped her face. "Let me demonstrate." He drew her against his body and molded his mouth to hers.

  It was a game. Part of the job. It wasn't real.

  But the way Brendan's mouth moved over hers didn't feel like pretend. Didn't feel like a game.

  She told herself to play along, at least until the car left the parking lot, but the car slowed and the crunch of the gravel stopped. Someone was watching them.

  She'd put her money on Mike Smith.

  "Can you see who it is?" he murmured against her mouth.

  "No. Bad angle."

  Without warning, he swung her around so that she was facing the parking lot. He backed her toward the cyclone fence that enclosed the lot, as if trying to get out of the light.

  She saw a dark sedan, newer model, and a pale face watching from the driver's side. The driver stared for a long time, then gunned the engine and sped out of the lot. Pieces of gravel sprayed against the parked cars with tiny pings.

  "Anyone else?" Brendan's voice was a rough murmur against her neck. The vibration made her pulse speed up and her body flush with heat.

  "You can back off now," she said, hating the breathless way the words came out. "He's gone."

  "Don't know who else is out there," he murmured, nipping at her ear. "We want to be convincing."

  She was convinced. And yeah, she knew it was a show. Nothing about this was real.

  But it felt real to her. As Brendan captured her mouth, she curled her leg around his and pressed closer. She'd regret it tomorrow. But she'd worry about that later. Right now, she let her reckless side slip its leash and rise up to meet Brendan's out-of-control mouth.

  By the time she pulled away, she was breathless. Panting. Aching for Brendan. Thank God they were in a public parking lot.

  Because every nip of his teeth, every glide of his tongue, every caress of his hand had sure felt real. So had the way her pulse raced for him. The way her body wept for him. Needed him.

  She eased away, putting her hands on his chest to keep him at a distance. "That was convincing. Let's get out of here."

  Instead of moving away, Brendan moved closer. "Sure as hell convinced me. How about you, Cilla? Are you convinced?"

  "I'm convinced it's time to go."

  "Hmm, I think it's more than that." He slid the pads of his fingers over her throat, lingered on her racing pulse. "Your heart's beating really, really fast."

  He dragged his hand lower, brushed her breasts. Lingered over a nipple until she wanted to arch into him. "Your nipples are hard."

  His hand drifted lower. "What would I find if I lifted that indecently short skirt?" His fingers played with the hem. "You want me to guess?"

  "I want you to stop," she managed to stay, untangling her leg from his and stumbling backward.

  "I don't think you do." He caught her hand and tugged her closer. She held her body rigid, refusing to budge. "I think you want me as much as I want you."

  "You're delusional, Donovan."

  "You want to bet on who's going to break first?" Even in the darkness, she saw the way his eyes danced. How his mouth curled. "Cause my money's on you."

  "Really?" she scoffed. "I've got more self-control in my little finger than you've ever had. I'm betting on you, and I'm going to win."

  "You think so?" He got closer, and she closed her eyes as his scent washed over her. "What are the stakes?"

  "There are no stakes, because I'm going to win."

  He grinned at that. "We'll see, Marini." He trailed his hand down her back, finding the space between the fabric. His hand was big. Hot. His fingers curled around her side and brushed the outer edge of her breast.

  She shrugged him off and sucked in a ragged breath when he let her go. All he had to do was touch her and he ignited the desire that had been on a simmer all evening.

  He bent close and used his teeth to tug on her earlobe. "Want to make a side bet on a time frame?"

  "I don't bet on 'when hell freezes over.'"

  "Okay, Detective. Thought I'd offer you an out. You might want one after you're the first to cave." The laughter in his voice made her want to lean into him again. Feel him laugh against her neck.

  "You keep telling yourself that, Donovan. We'll see what happens."

  "We certainly will." He let her go, his hands sliding away as if he could hardly bear to break contact with her. "We need to talk about tonight. My place?"

  "Nice try. But no. I'll meet you at Oscar's. It's usually quiet this time of night."

  His smile disappeared. "You go there a lot this late at night?"

  "Once in a while." She raised one eyebrow, trying to reclaim the upper hand. "It's a good place to...decompress."

  "I know better ways to do that. I'll explain them sometime."

  "Looking forward to hearing them." She opened her car door. "See you at Oscar's?"

  He stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. "I'll be there."

  * * *

  Brendan drove down the Ryan at the speed limit, not bothering to look for Cilla's car in his rear view mirror. He was too jacked up. He needed to concentrate on the road in front of him.

  Damn it! He'd meant to keep it light. Meant to be all business behind the pub, hidden in the dark.

  He'd tried. But one touch, one taste, and he remembered everything about Cilla. The way she tasted. The way she felt, all soft skin and soft curves and eager woman. The tiny sounds she'd made when he kissed her. The small gasps when he touched her. The way her breath stuttered when he pressed his mouth to her neck.

  Police officers got involved with their partners. It happened. It wasn't the smartest move, but some couples made it work.

  He wanted her like he'd never wanted another woman.

  She'd acted as though she was equally hot for him.

  They could make it work. After all, they had to sell themselves as lovers. Make everyone in the pub believe it was true.

  And they wouldn't be partners for long. Once this job was over, they'd go back to their own districts. Their own assignments. They might continue to see each other for awhile, but it would taper off. Finally end. That was his M.O.

  He ignored the tiny pang at the thought. He'd get over her. And she'd get over him. That was how he liked it. Have fun, then move on.

  He accelerated as he got off Lake Shore Drive, then caught himself and stomped on the brakes. Slowed until he reached Broadway, making a few turns until he spotted Oscar's down the block.

  There was an open parking space three doors down. He almost left it for Cilla, but that would be a waste. It'd be gone by the time she got here.

  Locking his car, he yanked open the door to the bar and walked inside. The air was warm with the smell of macaroni and cheese, burgers and beer. Comfort food. He let his shoulders relax and flashed a smile.

  He needed to sell the 'lovers' story here, too. You never knew who might be watching. So he asked for the booth in the back corner. Out of the way. Quiet.

  The beaming hostess showed him to the same booth he and Cilla had shared the last time they were here. He smiled and thanked her.

  No one would overhear them. They could keep an eye on the door. Talk business and not be disturbed.

  He could sit close to her. Inhale her sweet, spicy orange scent. And if he sat a little too close? Made her a little nervous?

  That was part of the game, too. They were going to be the most convincing set of lovers the department had ever seen.

  When she walked in the door ten minutes later, he sat up straight. Watched her gaze find him at the back of the bar.

  She squared her shoulders, smiled at the hostess and nodded toward him. Even from a distance, though, the smile seemed tight. Forced.

  As she wound her way through the tables, every man she passed swiveled his head to watch her. She'd put on a sweater over the delicious shirt, but her skirt was still short. Sexy. And the black boots that covered her long legs, exposing only the pale skin of her thighs,
were the killer finish to her outfit.

  Clearly, the rest of the men in Oscar's thought so, too.

  Swallowing hard, he stood as she approached the booth. Motioned her onto the bench facing the door, then slid in after her.

  "Really, Brendan?" she sighed. "You have to sit next to me again?"

  "We're trying to sell something here."

  "No, we're not. We're trying to sell it at the Pipe and Shamrock."

  "So we're practicing here." He slid a menu across the varnished wood table. "You hungry? I'm getting something to eat."

  He felt her gaze on him as he studied his own menu. Finally, edging away from him until she was plastered against the wall, she pushed the menu away and picked up her glass of water.

  "Drop the act. Okay? It's been a long day." She took a long drink of the ice water, and he watched her throat ripple as she drank. "Let's just take care of business."

  Dark shadows smudged the skin beneath her eyes, and she'd clenched her teeth, as if trying to hold it together. "What happened on the way here?" he asked. Because something sure as hell had.

  She spun the water glass around with both hands, staring at it. Then she lifted her gaze to him. "I got a phone call. From my sister. She needs my help."

  Chapter 12

  Icy fear washed through him, and Brendan slid closer to Cilla. "Is she okay?" Water sloshed out of the spinning water glass, and Brendan put his hand on it, stilling its movement. "What happened? Do you need a ride to the hospital?"

  She finally glanced at him and shook her head. "No, but thanks for offering." Her tense mouth softened. "Nothing like that. It's a problem in her personal life." She tried to spin the glass again, slid her hands into her lap when her fingers glanced off his. "A problem that affects her work life."

  "Never good to combine the two," he said, and then wanted to kick himself. It was exactly what they'd done that afternoon. He needed to think before he opened his mouth.