Hot Pursuit (Jupiter Point Book 5)

by Jennifer Bernard

  He eased into the passenger seat and let her drive to the front door. She went inside to check in and left the heat blasting in the cab. He almost dozed off while she was gone.

  "Adrenaline," he explained sleepily when she hopped back into the truck. "After it wears off you feel like a truck hit you."

  "Well, a truck didn't hit you, it saved you." She gave him a teasing smile. "And now it's giving you door-to-door service. They gave us a ground-floor suite so you don't have to climb any stairs. Oh, and it has a hot tub. Fancy, huh?"

  He groaned in anticipation. Immersing himself into warm water sounded like the best idea in the entire world. Maybe Merry would immerse herself along with him. A guy could dream…

  She insisted that he stay in the truck while she found the room, parked as close as possible, then ferried their few things inside. Her laptop, his emergency duffel, her purse, and that was about it. By then he'd regained enough energy to leave the truck under his own power. His clothes and boots were so saturated that he squished like the Swamp Thing on his way into the room. When he saw that the room was carpeted, he stopped at the doorway and bent down to take off his boots.

  Except that his fingers were still too numb to manage the laces, so Merry knelt next to him to help.

  "Don't get used to this 'waiting on you hand and foot' thing," she joked. "I only do this for genuine kid-rescuing heroes."

  He straightened up and held onto the doorjamb while her nimble fingers undid his laces. He tried, oh so hard, not to imagine her fingers doing other things to him, but it was impossible. He didn't have the energy to deny his attraction to her, or to hide it. He couldn't act casual either. All he could do was stare at her as if she were an angel come to take care of him.

  When she eased his boots off, muddy water dripped onto the carpet. She put them in the hallway, then had him lift his feet one by one so she could remove his socks. His toes were red, the rest of his feet white and clammy.

  "Well, Deputy Knight, I wouldn't have chosen this body part to be the first that I got to see naked, but I guess that's how it worked out." She smiled up at him while his still-numb brain tried to process her words.

  First? Naked? First of how many? Which body part would she have chosen?

  He was still pondering her words when she rose to her feet and bundled him toward the bathroom. "I already got the water going in the bath. Take your time. I'll order us some food in the meantime. Any requests?"

  "You in the tub with me?"

  She grinned at him in delight. "I can see that your brain function is returning. Or at least one of your functions."

  "One of the best ones," he pointed out. His tongue still felt a little clumsy. If he kissed her now, it would probably feel like a block of ice to her. Even so, he desperately wanted to. "Thank you, Merry. I really appreciate this. You. I appreciate you."

  She gave a low laugh. "No, Will. You're the one who's appreciated. You came to my rescue and ended up saving a little boy. You're amazing." They stepped into the bathroom, which held a spacious Jacuzzi-size tub mostly filled with steaming water. "Can you get your clothes off by yourself or do you need a hand?"

  By now, Will was done feeling like an invalid. He spoke slowly and carefully, making his clumsy tongue enunciate. "When I take my clothes off with you, it's not going to be for a bath." He lifted one frozen eyebrow.

  Her eyes widened. "Um…"

  Good. He'd surprised her.

  She cleared her throat. "I'll be right out here, so if you need anything G-rated, let me know."

  He held her gaze, pouring heat and promise and so much more into that one look. He shrugged off his jacket, which fell to the floor with a sodden thud. She didn't budge; instead she seemed riveted to his movements. So he put his hand to the bottom of his thermal shirt and tugged it over his head.

  With his head still swaddled in fabric, he heard her quick intake of breath. But when he pulled the shirt off his head, she was gone and he had the bathroom to himself.

  Holy Woodward and Bernstein, she was not expecting that. Merry shut the bathroom door and leaned against it. She shut her eyes and shook her head, knees weak from the image of Will's smooth muscles flexing in his spectacular torso.

  That just wasn't fair. First he saved a kid, then he took off his shirt right in front of her. How was she supposed to maintain that professional distance when he did stuff like that?

  She crossed to the desk that held the room service menu and opened it. The words might have been Pig Latin for all the sense they made. She stared at it blindly, seeing Will instead of the dinner listings. Will struggling through that gray water. Will holding a squirming kid against his chest. Will nearly disappearing in the churning floodwaters.

  He was never in any danger, she told herself. That's why he'd had the cable. He was tethered to the truck the entire time.

  But he could have drowned. Or at least it had looked that way from the shore. His head kept going under, then bobbing up, then going under.

  She buried her face in her hands, tears leaking through her fingers. The emotions that had powered through her in those desperate moments still had her heart pumping. If she lost Will…no, she couldn't lose Will.

  Will was the one she'd turned to in a crisis. Will was the one she could count on. The one who looked out for her. The one who made her heart glow and her blood sing. The one she told secrets to. The one who kept surprising her, over and over.

  She wanted him. Her body vibrated with the knowledge. She wanted him with a power that knocked her off her feet. Just like that flooding creek out there.

  She picked up the phone and ordered a selection of food she thought he'd like. The moment called for comfort food—meatloaf and mashed potatoes—but knowing him, he probably liked the spicy stuff too. He had all sorts of little surprises like that hidden away in his personality. So she ordered some potstickers and spicy chili as well. Then threw in two big slices of apple pie and whipped cream, along with some coffee. The macaroni and cheese was for her, because nothing said "everything's going to be okay" more than mac and cheese. Unless it was SpaghettiOs, which weren't on the menu. In her opinion, more restaurants ought to serve SpaghettiOs.

  After she'd hung up, she called again and added an extra order of bread and butter. After a near-death experience, a guy should eat whatever he wanted. And the girl who'd nearly watched him die shouldn't worry about calories.

  She heard splashing in the bathroom and smiled to herself. Will was fine. He was a tough guy. She'd never seen him in a situation like this before, but she shouldn't be surprised. Once, she'd seen him arrest someone, and the speed and force with which he'd moved had taken her breath away. He'd be fine, and they were here in this amazing hotel suite for the night, with a truckload of food coming and a bed the size of Arizona…

  Sure, she'd told him they should keep things strictly friend-level. But a girl could change her mind, right? It was worth considering, wasn't it? A handsome hunk of a hero was on the other side of that bathroom door and it was getting harder to remember why they shouldn't tumble into that bed.

  After the food arrived, she left it all set up in its covered dishes and tiptoed to the bathroom door. The splashing had stopped. Maybe he was clean by now. Clean and getting dressed. Disappointment made her sag against the door. The moment had passed.

  Then she remembered that he didn't have any clean clothes with him.

  She tapped on the door. "Will, how's it going in there? Everything all right? Do you need some clothes?"

  No answer. Had he survived a raging flood only to drown in a bathtub? She'd better make sure.

  She pushed open the door and found him sound asleep, his head resting on a folded towel on the edge of the tub. His long, muscled body was stretched out, one knee bent up, bits of him visible under the floating islands of soapsuds.

  She quietly pulled the door closed, her mind filled with images of those hard muscles and long limbs. Naked Will Knight was just as magnificent as she'd always imagined. And ye
s, she had spent some time imagining it. She could admit it now.

  "Hey Merry." Low and amused, his voice traveled through the door. "Was that you?"

  "I was just making sure you hadn't drowned in there."

  "Nope. Still breathing. But you're right, I could use some clothes."

  Clothes? Who needs 'em! She pressed her lips together to keep those words from escaping. "I'll get your bag. Hang on."

  She found his emergency gear back in the bedroom and brought it to the bathroom door. "I'm just going to set this right inside—"

  The door swung open and there he was. Tall and wide-shouldered, with a towel wrapped around his hips, riding tantalizingly low. He'd dried himself off, but moisture still studded his skin and his hair curled damply around his ears. It was an endearing look on him, she had to say. Instead of his usual impassive manner, he looked relaxed and loose and mouthwatering. His gray eyes shone like beacons through the steam of the bathroom.

  Wordlessly, she held out his bag. He took it and pulled out a pair of sweatpants. "Thanks. That was great. I feel a thousand percent better now."

  She nodded, but couldn't seem to make herself move. Behind him, the water was draining out of the bathtub. The steamy warmth of the little room was so relaxing, so seductive.

  "It's your turn now," he told her. "Shower or bath?"

  She shook herself to attention. "A long hot shower sounds good to me." It would sound even better if he got in with her. She wanted to suggest it, all sassy, but if he came into the shower with her they would have sex for sure, and if that happened…well, she wanted that…let's be honest…but there'd be no going back and—

  Will interrupted her confused thought process. He curled one warm, damp hand around the back of her neck and hovered his face over hers. "You're thinking too much," he murmured. "Take your shower. Then we'll go from there."

  Swallowing hard, she nodded like a marionette. Go from there. Go where? Right now, she'd go anywhere with him, and that was a dangerous thought. He eased past her, a knowing smile curving his firm lips. The chemistry between them felt like a tractor beam pulling her toward him. She watched him walk toward the bedroom, his rear flexing under the towel, his loose strides those of a man thoroughly confident in his power to please a woman.

  Gah! Get a grip. They had an entire night ahead of them, a king-size bed, and a planet-size mutual attraction.

  Maybe she should make that shower a cold one.

  17

  "So," he said after she'd showered. "I'm digging the new look."

  With hair like hers, she didn't dare use any of the hotel's shampoo—it would strip the oils right out. So she'd pinned it up out of the way during her shower. Now she had it in two fluffy puffballs, probably looking a lot like Minnie Mouse. Since she didn't have spare clothes, he'd lent her one of his clean t-shirts. It was huge on her, hanging to mid-thigh, and proclaimed her to be a member of the "University of Arizona Athletic Department." Luckily, her underwear hadn’t gotten too wet from the storm.

  While she was showering, he'd uncovered all the room service dishes and set everything on the desk. They were both so hungry, they'd barely said a word until they'd consumed most of the chili and mac and cheese.

  "Thanks." She grinned at him. "I like to mix it up. Rooster feathers by day, extra-large boy T-shirts by night."

  "Call me crazy, but I'll go for the T-shirt." His scorching glance told her he'd also go for removing the t-shirt. She shivered with anticipation.

  "How did you know I love chili, by the way?"

  She tapped the side of her forehead. "I'm a journalist, and I have amazing powers of deductive reasoning."

  He lifted an eyebrow. "Deductive reasoning?'

  "Sure. Want to hear my thinking?" He twisted his face into a wary expression, but she continued anyway. "You're kind of a homebody. You like order and stability, traditional stuff. Maybe because you were the oldest and you had to keep things together after your parents were gone. Or maybe that's your natural personality. But you also have an adventurous streak. That's why you went onto Flirt. And that's why, even when you found out who I am, that I'm this hot mess who never cleans her car, you still want to hang out with me."

  "Huh. And all that says chili to you?"

  "It does. I bet you can't argue with that logic." She gave him a sassy smile over a big forkful of mac and cheese.

  "Right, because that's not logic. But if we're analyzing food choices, let's talk about that macaroni and cheese you're shoveling into your mouth."

  She swallowed her current mouthful and daintily patted her lips with a linen napkin. "A lady doesn't shovel. A lady nibbles. That was a nibble. An overenthusiastic nibble."

  "Okay, wordsmith. You can describe it however you want. But you can't deny what it says about you."

  "Oh, this ought to be good. What does it say about me?"

  "That you can't wait until we're naked in this big bed together."

  "Excuse me?" She nearly choked mid-swallow. She wasn't sure if she was more shocked by that statement—which was totally true—or by the fact that he was turning the "food choice" tables on her. "You're going to have to walk me through that one."

  "It's obvious. Macaroni and cheese is pretty much the whitest food you can eat. White flour, cheese made from milk, which is white. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a white guy. Also, it has two ingredients, macaroni and cheese. There are two of us." He waved his fork between the two of them. "Put it all together, it's clear that you want me."

  She snorted as she dug into her food again. "I see what you're doing there. You're making fun of my chili statement."

  "Why would I make fun of that?" he asked mildly. "Just because you're pigeonholing me?"

  "Touché. But you have to admit you ate up that chili pretty fast. And you didn't deny my analysis."

  "Actually, I do deny it. I mean, I like chili, don't get me wrong. But me wanting you has nothing to do with some 'adventurous streak.' And you're not a hot mess. You're just busy. And hot. I'll accept the hot part."

  She let those words settle over her. He'd said he wanted her. He said she was hot. And he got that she didn't prioritize cleaning her car because other things were more important. "What does it have to do with?" she finally asked. "If it's not your adventurous streak."

  Even though their tone up to now had been light, he put down his fork and settled his penetrating gaze on her. That was the thing about Will—he always took her seriously. He never brushed her off. He might refuse to comment if he didn't think he should, but he didn't dismiss her.

  "What doesn't it have to do with? You're smart. You're gorgeous. You're passionate. You're funny. You're sexy as hell. You're thoughtful. You're dedicated. You're impressive in every way, Merry. Maybe a little too single-minded sometimes, a little too reckless when you're on a story. But that's just my opinion. You put a hundred percent of yourself into what you do, and I can't really criticize that. I'd be a hypocrite if I did."

  The room seemed to shift around her, the ground dropping away beneath her feet. She'd been longing her entire life to hear words like that. Under everything Will said ran a current of respect. And that was all she'd ever really wanted.

  Maybe it was due to being the disposable cast-off child of the Merriweathers. Maybe it was being her mother's daughter, driven to excel. Maybe it was growing up mixed in a black and white world. Whatever the reason, all her life she'd craved respect. She wanted to be seen and heard.

  And here was Will Knight, a deputy sheriff, law and order personified, handing that to her like a fact of life. Something without question.

  Except that he wasn't "law and order personified." She had to stop thinking that way. She always hated the idea that she had to represent women of color, or biracial people, or anyone except her own self. He was Will Knight, an individual. A big brother, caring friend, respected member of the community, secret poet, and all-around beautiful man.

  One who wanted her. And whom she wanted.

  She put down her
fork and shoved aside her plate. "Will…"

  He looked at her alertly. "Merry…"

  "I'm going to let the mac and cheese speak for me. It's completely correct."

  He waited one beat, scanning her face, as if making sure he was interpreting her comment correctly. Then he stood up, his tall, powerful body unfurling to his full height. He wasn't wearing a shirt, since he'd given his only extra one to her. Muscles rippled up and down his abdomen, flexing under the firm skin, pale where the sun didn't touch it. She licked her lips in anticipation. Sweet Lord in heaven, he was a yummy man.

  He offered his hand and pulled her to her feet. The intensity of his gray-eyed gaze set off a flutter of nerves inside her.

  When she got nervous, she got pedantic. "By the way, I have to correct you on one thing. Plenty of black folks love mac and cheese. And it has more than two ingredients, because it's best if you mix milk and butter in with the cheese."

  "I know how to make mac and cheese. It was all Aiden would eat for about a year."

  The reminder that Will had raised his little brother made her want him even more. He was such a good man, a solid, loyal, rock-of-the-ages kind of man. He pulled her against him, so her bare legs tangled with his. Sparks exploded between them. It wouldn't have surprised Merry if literal fireworks were lighting up the room.

  Instead, it was just the two of them. No shirt for him, no pants for her. And that was still too much clothing. He lifted her up so her legs wrapped around his hips. His hands firmly supported her ass, the long fingers settling close to the place between her legs that throbbed and howled for his touch. She felt the rise of his erection against her flesh. She groaned with want.

  "Will, I know this is probably a bad idea, but I don't even care anymore."

  "Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. You have me so spun around I can't think logically. All I know is I want you. As much of yourself as you're willing to give, I'll take."