He knew where she wasn’t—neither the camera on her porch nor the camera at her salon had sent his phone any alerts. Hopefully, she was still in Rawley’s, talking and laughing with her friends, completely oblivious to the time. He could handle slipping off her radar in the midst of a big engagement party for one of her closest friends. What he couldn’t handle was not knowing where she was. His mind took the uncertainty and ran in too many unacceptable directions.
A drive past Rawley’s, however, confirmed her car wasn’t in the parking lot. He hadn’t passed her on the drive in, and he still hadn’t heard from her. He considered going into Rawley’s and asking after her, but people didn’t know him here anymore, and even those who would recognize him, like Tyler and Junior, didn’t know about his relationship with Virginia—he’d come off like a stalker. Plus…a shrapnel-sharp thought detonated in his head…if she’d left with a guy, nobody inside the bar was likely to spill the information to a virtual stranger. He kept driving, and ended up at the only logical place.
Her doorstep. He parked the Jeep up the street, more annoyed than ever about the need to pretend he wasn’t there to see her, and climbed her steps. And waited…and waited…and waited. Over an hour of waiting before the sound of a car engine approached, and then suddenly ceased instead of fading. Doors slammed. Footsteps advanced up her steps, and then stopped. A deep, masculine voice said something he didn’t catch, and then her unmistakable, husky voice replied, “Roger, I can’t thank you enough for tonight.”
Okay, Roger was dead, whoever he was. Shaun got to his feet and prepared for a confrontation.
“It was my pleasure. Honestly. I’m glad I could get you off. Call me anytime.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope I won’t need your expertise again anytime soon. I really appreciate you coming to my rescue.”
Her words sounded so heartfelt, Shaun wanted to punch the door.
“Ginny, before we call it a night, can I talk to you about something you said earlier?”
“Sure. Of course.” He could picture her brushing her hair away from her face and looking up at this Roger asshole with her big, green, thankful eyes.
“The friend you had plans with tonight…before…you never mentioned a name.”
“You noticed that, huh?”
“I did. You’re not one to keep secrets or hold back details, so the omission stuck out to me. Is something wrong there?”
Her laugh was a monument to irony. “So much wrong, I can’t even tell you. I can’t tell anybody.”
“Is this person important to you?”
He didn’t hear her response and imagined she’d answered with a head gesture.
“Can I give you some advice—one friend to another?”
“Always.”
“After Melody and I broke up I became kind of an expert at keeping an important relationship under wraps, mostly to avoid judgment from others. I justified the measures I took by telling myself my private life was nobody else’s business, but eventually, I felt like I was living a lie. The lie infected all my relationships, including the one I was trying to protect. It infected my perception of myself, too, in very negative ways. I didn’t respect myself anymore—didn’t respect how I slunk along, hiding, as if my real feelings were something I ought to be ashamed of. You’re an open person, Ginny. Always have been. I’m not saying you should take out a front page ad in the Bluelick Bugle and announce anything, but there’s some grace and dignity in just living your life as you want, with whomever you want, and letting people draw their conclusions—whatever they may be. I’m really glad you called me tonight, but I can tell I was second choice. This other person is who you really wanted to call.”
Okay, this guy made some excellent points, but she had called Roger, and he’d responded to the call—second choice or not. Hearing his worst suspicions confirmed made his fists clench and his stomach tighten.
“It’s complicated,” Virginia responded in a soft voice.
“Is he married?”
Their footsteps resumed.
“No! I would never—”
“He’s got a bunch of kids?”
“No. It’s nothing like that.”
“This doesn’t sound too complicated, if you ask me.”
They rounded the shrub-lined stairway and came into sight. He stood, and the movement immediately snagged their attention. The tall, blond man stepped protectively in front of Virginia and Shaun recognized him as Roger Reynolds. His childhood friend. Her current fuck-buddy.
Surprisingly, Roger recognized him too. “Shaun Buchanan. Man, it’s been years. I heard you were back in town, but…what are you doing here?”
Roger had always been a sharp guy, and he didn’t take long to answer his own question. Then his eyes widened. He turned to Virginia—who was also pretty sharp, and now stood between Roger and him. “Wow. Congratulations. I believe you just became queen of complicated.”
Utter silence followed the observation. Shaun fought against a tide of jealous, senseless rage rising inside him. Maybe Roger smelled it on him, or saw something in his eyes, because he cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Ginny, honey, would you do me a favor and get me some water?”
“That’s an excellent idea,” he seconded, never taking his eyes off the blond man. “Go into the house.”
She crossed her arms and eyed them both. “No. And no. Either everybody checks their testosterone at the door and we go into the house together, or I stay right here and explain why you”—she poked Shaun in the chest—“owe Roger an apology.”
It occurred to him, technically, he didn’t have any claim to her. Yes, they’d let a one-night stand evolve into something else, but they’d never talked about exclusivity. He’d never demanded it, she’d never offered, and the fact that because of complacency, or unwillingness on his part to admit what he wanted, he actually stood squarely in the wrong tonight only intensified his frustration. “We had plans tonight. I won’t apologize for expecting you to show.”
“Well, that was impossible, because I got arrested.”
His hands were on her before he knew he’d moved, holding her shoulders, sliding down her arms, seeking assurances she wasn’t hurt. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she snapped. She wrapped her arms around her waist and stepped out of his reach, but not before he caught the wounded look in her over-bright eyes. Feisty, sassy, self-assured Virginia was holding herself together by a thread, and one wrong move from him would snap it. Problem was he didn’t have a right move, because leaving her alone was out of the question.
“A baseless arrest,” Roger said, “in my unbiased legal opinion. She committed a minor traffic violation, and Deputy Crocker dragged her in on everything from DUI to fleeing police. Unfortunately for him, her breathalyzer results made the DUI charge look like a joke and the distance between where she committed the traffic infraction and where she pulled over didn’t support a fleeing charge. Additionally, Ginny thought to activate the video on her phone when Crocker pulled her over, and he neglected to frisk her, so she recorded the entire arrest. I simply pointed out to Sheriff Butler all the flaws in the charges, and suggested the deputy’s true motive was to harass a woman known as an outspoken critic of the department. He wasn’t originally sold on my take of events, but then I played the recording so he could judge for himself. I also invited him to think about how the recording might sound to, say, viewers of the local news.”
He smiled and shrugged. “Butler agreed to forget tonight ever happened if we agreed to forget about the recording. After consulting with my client, we decided it would be best to let both parties put the whole, unfortunate incident behind them. I drove Ginny home, since her car is stuck in impound until tomorrow morning. And that brings us all up to date.” He folded his arms, glanced down at his watch, and then added, “My God, look at the time. We should get going. Let Ginny get some rest.”
“I’m staying.” He didn’t care how hig
h-handed he sounded. She didn’t want him in the house, fine. He’d stay on the porch. But he’d stay. He didn’t miss how Roger’s attention shifted to her, silently seeking confirmation. Some tightness seeped out of his muscles when she lifted and dropped her shoulder in a suit yourself gesture.
Roger leaned in, received a hug and kiss from his client, paused to shake hands with Shaun, and then disappeared down the steps. Stillness descended. He was still pissed as hell, but he also wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her, just to reassure them both she really was all right. The impulse didn’t mesh well with the cold front coming off her. Virginia wasn’t the silent type, though, and he doubted her ability to freeze him out forever—especially if he chipped away at her.
“Otherwise, how was the party?”
Her laugh held more sarcasm than amusement. “Otherwise, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
She pulled her keys from the bottom of her handbag and unlocked the door. “The party was great.” He followed her inside and waited while she dropped her keys, handbag and jacket on the small table just inside the entryway. “Josh and Melody are so happy together, which is all the sweeter because they really worked to get to where they are now—overcame a lot of personal obstacles—not to mention an arsonist.”
She didn’t turn to face him. He deliberated, then pulled the conversation forward. “Who’d you walk out with?”
“Nobody.” With an irritated sigh, she stomped a few steps away from him. “Don’t bother saying it, I already know. I walked out all by myself like a dumbass with a target on my back.”
He closed the gap and ran his hand over her back, down each tense muscle under the thin, cool silk of her blouse. “I didn’t say that, or think it.”
“No? Well fine, maybe it was me who thought it, but not until it was too late and Crocker was in my face telling me I had one second to put my hands where he could see them.”
The words came out in a rush and ended on a hitching breath. He took her shoulders to turn her around, but she shook him off.
“I’m tired, I’m sweaty, and I don’t want to talk about this. What I really want to do is take a shower and wash the whole god-awful night off me.”
“I’m proud of you for staying sharp even though you were frightened.”
Now she turned around, eyes flashing. “I wasn’t frightened, I was angry. Angry at myself for giving him an excuse to pull me over, angry at him for misusing his authority to intimidate and harass me, and furious when he ordered me out of my car, and”—her voice broke into a muffled sob and she didn’t resist this time when he gathered her to him—“h-he forced me up against the vehicle and slapped cuffs on me, all the while running down a list of b-bullshit charges l-longer than my arm.”
Hot tears dampened the front of his shirt. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her toward the bathroom. “He wanted to scare you.”
“Well, it worked,” she admitted this time, not lifting her face from his chest. “There was nobody around, and nowhere to run, and…and…nothing I could do…”
He set her on the bathroom counter, took her face in his hands and tipped her head up until their eyes met. “Shh. You did everything right,” he said softly, and brushed her hair back from her tear-drenched cheeks. “You handled yourself perfectly.” He punctuated the assurance with a quick, hard kiss that ended up a little more desperate than he intended. Go slow, he reminded himself. Be gentle. “But next time…” He held her face when she groaned and tried to look away. “Next time you so much as see a flashing light in your rearview mirror, the first thing you do, Virginia, is call me, understand?”
“I can’t—”
He didn’t let her finish, simply brought his mouth down on hers and swept the objection away with his tongue—and all his slow, gentle impulses crumbled to dust under the weight of his frustration. Spending hours simmering in his own worry before getting flash-fired by a hot blast of jealousy did nothing good for his control. “When you need someone, damn it, you call me. I’m done being your dirty little secret.”
As soon as the words were out, a boulder rolled off his chest, and he almost staggered from the disorienting sense of weightlessness. He quickly reeled himself in. He might not have his shit completely together, but he had this one thing figured out. He wanted her. He was falling in love with her, and keeping their relationship under the covers wasn’t an option anymore. “I’m the one. Understand?”
Slender arms locked around his head. “I need you now,” she whispered and pulled him into another kiss. She was side-stepping his request—hell, demand—but her sob flowed into his mouth and tore at him. He took it. Absorbed it. Devoured it. At the same time, he pulled off her clothes until he found the flesh-and-blood woman beneath. His fingers trailed over smooth, pale skin and she shivered despite the heat.
Her energy, the power of her personality, made it easy to forget how small she really was, but tonight he took in her slim shoulders, delicate frame, and wondered at the weight she carried around so effortlessly—people’s problems, including his own, expectations, including the ones she heaped on herself, a desire to bring about positive change. And for all her trouble, payback tonight had taken the form of a targeted incident designed to hurt her reputation and leave her feeling helpless and afraid. Crocker hadn’t succeeded, thankfully, but her tear-streaked cheeks offered a gut-twisting indication he hadn’t completely failed either.
She shivered again and wrapped her arms around herself.
He opened the shower door, turned the water on and let it run until steam filled the small, tile enclosure. “Come here.” He put her under the spray, admiring how the water turned her hair to liquid fire. She sighed and unfolded like a flower bathed in sunlight. He pulled off his clothes and shouldered his way into the tiny cubicle with her, moving carefully as he backed her up against the tile wall. The sight of water running over her skin, beading at the tips of her tight, up-tilted nipples, rolling in thin rivulets down her flat stomach and into the tidy landing strip of curls between her legs sent his needs surging. He silently reminded himself his purpose tonight centered around seeing to her needs—her need to feel safe, protected and taken care of for once, instead of attending to others.
With that in mind, he poured shampoo into his palm. “Turn around.”
Big, tear-bruised eyes stared up at him, confused. “You’re going to shampoo my hair?”
“For starters.” There wasn’t a lot of room, but he managed to turn her around, and, keeping his elbows in, worked the shampoo into her hair. He moved his fingertips in slow, steady circles over her scalp. After a moment she sighed and let her head fall back.
“Feels good?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
To him, too. When the lather slid down her back, his hands followed suit, massaging the long muscles on either side of her spine while the fragrant suds streamed down the gracefully curved center line. He moved his hands lower, keeping up with the lather. She shivered yet again, but this time he welcomed the reaction, because he knew it had nothing to do with fear or exhaustion, and everything to do with pleasure. He wanted to kiss his way down the same wet trail, but there was no way to manage it in the tight confines of the shower. Still, he used his hands to coax a few more shivers from her, and then brought his mouth close to her ear. “Face me.”
She turned, rubbing her slick body against his in the process. Her eyes remained closed in deference to the shower’s spray, her face was flushed from the steam—and his touch. Lush, pink lips parted. “I must look a sight.”
“You’re beautiful.” And she was, even with mascara smeared under her eyes and down her cheeks. Had he ever told her so before? If not, why had he waited?
She rested her hands on his chest and made a negative sound. “I don’t feel so beautiful at the moment.”
He brought his hands to her face and swept his thumbs gently under her eyes, carefully wiping the makeup away. “You are, inside and out.”
He continued down the soft skin of her cheeks. “My mission tonight is to make sure you feel it—and I always complete my missions.” He traced the curves and dip of her upper lip with his fingertip and then brushed the pad of his finger over her lower one. They parted wider—an instinctive invitation. He brought his mouth close, but didn’t make contact. Her eyes opened and she stared into him while he ran his finger down her throat, along her collarbone, and then over the slope of her breast to the tight, round crest.
She sucked in a breath.
“Beautiful,” he said.
She made a move to try and capture the word—or more likely cut it off. He let their lips touch, and then pinched her nipple lightly and watched her pupils go dark and wide. She moaned into his mouth.
He squeezed shampoo from her hair and then ran his sudsy palms over her throat, and her breasts, lingering there until she arched into his touch and her low, languorous moans turned fast and edgy.
Then he went lower, moving his hand in a slow circle over her stomach. She parted her legs. He dipped his fingers between her thighs, but only grazed the outer folds. Her needy groan ended with a muted thump—the back of her head connecting with the tile wall. “I need you. Please. Make me forget everything except you, and me, and this.”
His cock jumped to do her bidding. “Steady,” he murmured, more to himself than to her, and hauled her up until she was braced between his hips and the wall. Her heels dug into the hollows behind his knees. “You have me, Virginia—as much as you need, for as long as you need me.”
The words applied to his heart and his soul, not just his body. Her round, stunned eyes told him she’d heard the deeper meaning, too, and wasn’t sure whether to trust her ears. Not the reaction he would have hoped for, but fair enough, considering she hadn’t asked for heart and soul from him, they’d never discussed the future, and standing in her shower, two seconds from giving her what she had asked for, wasn’t the time to bring up the rest of his shit. He retreated to safe territory. Sex. “For once we’re going to take this slow.”
Falling for the Enemy Page 15