Bad Girl

by Julie Miller

  “Did Danny do something that reminded you of your stepdad?”

  The smile trembled. She was working so hard to hold back more tears. “Never call me beautiful. Never. Danny says it. It’s so objectifying. And I think Slade Russell knows…I think he suspects that I used to…for money.”

  “Where’s this coming from?”

  “I thought I could do this job. I thought I could go back to that life.” She raised her gaze to his and a tear spilled over, running down her cheek and dripping onto his pant leg. It was killing him to see this confident, irresistible woman breaking down like this. He turned her in his lap, letting her pull her legs together and curl them up against her chest. “I thought I could control what I was feeling. But it’s too much. Tonight was too much. I just…I was a victim again. I hated it. All I wanted to do was run. Maybe this is like post-traumatic stress disorder.”

  It was exactly PTSD. And he’d set her up to trigger all those horrible memories. Josiah swallowed the string of self-damning curses rising in his throat. “I’m so sorry, baby. I never should have asked.”

  “I wanted to help. You needed my help. I’m good at this.” She traced his lips with a shaky, suggestive caress. “I’ve always been good at this.” She swiped at the trails of moisture shining on her cheeks and hugged her knees to her chest again. “Until tonight. I panicked. I got scared.”

  Josiah shook his head, hating himself, hating Danny and Slade Russell and her stepdad, hating all the men who looked at her like some kind of plaything for making her hurt like this. “Mertz attacked you.”

  “I’ve always been able to handle men. Ever since Sal, that is.” She tilted her eyes to his.

  “Until tonight?”

  She nodded.

  “You had some sort of flashback.” She folded up into a ball in his lap, and he tightened his arms around her, tucking her face to the juncture of his shoulder and neck. “It’s okay if you’re not as tough as you used to be.”

  “But I have to be. Megan needs me to be.” She cursed as a sob overtook her. “If I can’t take care of myself, who’s going to take care of her?”

  Josiah gently rocked her as her hot tears singed his skin. “I’ve never known a woman so good at taking care of herself.”

  “But I’m crying.” She pushed away to look him in the eye. “I. Don’t. Cry.”

  He wiped a tear away with the pad of his thumb. “If you say so.”

  “It’s a weakness.”

  Some of her spirit was coming back. He hoped. “I think it’s a sign of humanity. Of normalcy. Of being in touch with your emotions.”

  She shook her head. “Megan needs me to be strong. All I can think about is that stupid creep getting off on my pain and fear. Lawrence thinking he could buy me again, and you finding out what I used to do—”

  “I told you I don’t care about that. It’s not like I’m going to arrest you nine years after the fact. You did what you had to in order to survive. I’m guessing you made sure it was all safe sex.” She nodded. He was relieved. For her. God knew she didn’t need anything else to worry about. “You’re not that girl all alone in the world anymore.”

  “You’re a good guy, Josiah Kemp. You probably can’t even understand how dark and awful the world can be.” Her laugh shuddered into a sob and she pressed her fingers to her mouth to stifle it. “I was so sure you were one of the bad guys when I first saw you. With that scar and that personality. For a while there, I wasn’t even sure you could smile.”

  He wasn’t feeling the urge now. “You need to deal with these emotions, Riley. You can’t just cover them up 24/7, and think they’re not going to affect you. Even a cop who’s had the undercover experience I have needs a break now and then, or you go nuts. Why do you think I ride my Harley so fast?”

  “To forget.” She shivered in his lap and Josiah reached behind him to pull the afghan his aunt had crocheted off the back of the couch. He draped it around her shoulders and hugged her back against his chest as she continued. “But I don’t think I can. That’s why I wanted you to…I wanted you, anyway, and I thought—”

  “Big, bad Josiah Kemp could blot out the memory of any other guy touching you. For a while, at least.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess that’s not any different from running away.” She snuggled closer and any physical discomfort he was feeling faded.

  “You won’t do Megan any good if the stress gets to you and you wig out again. I think you’ve got a lot more than this week on your mind that you’re dealing with. Working at After Dark, dealing with the lowlifes that work there and come to watch the show, worrying about your sister—you’ve stirred up a lot of bad memories.”

  “I won’t give up. You know something’s going to happen tomorrow night. Slade told you to beef up security at the club. I have to get back inside that room and see if that card can tell us what’s on those computers. I can’t quit. I won’t. I have to suck it up and do it.”

  “Yeah. But you won’t be alone. And you don’t have do anything about it right now.” He pulled her hair from beneath the afghan and stroked the long waves down her back. “For a few minutes, forget about the past. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Just stay in the present right here with me. Relax and let it go. I’ve got your back, Riley. Let me take care of you.”

  “Stop saying that.” Another sob shook her body against his. “I don’t need a man to take care of me.”

  “How about a friend?” There was a long pause. More hot tears trickling down his chest. When she nodded, Josiah turned sideways and stretched out on the couch with Riley lying on top of him. “Shhh. Relax, baby. I’ve got you.”

  Quiet tears continued to fall, although the trembling sobs grew farther apart. She splayed her fingers over his heart. “This isn’t what I do with men, you know.”

  “I know.” Their legs tangled together as she started to relax. He found a comfortable spot for his head and straightened the afghan over both of them.

  “I really do want to get naked with you.”

  “Right back at ya.” Lying here with his pants unzipped and a half-naked goddess draped over the top of him should have stirred thoughts of the mind-blowing sex he suspected the two of them could share. But there was something a lot more important on his mind right now. Something that didn’t mind the quiet and the closeness and the soul-baring conversation.

  Riley rested her head on the pillow of his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” He kissed the crown of her hair. “This is kind of nice. Usually, the girl leaves me before the cuddling part.”

  “Oh, Josiah.” Her noisy yawn made him smile. “They’re stupid if they—”

  “Shhh. It doesn’t matter. Just let it go. I’ve got you.”

  “You’re making me think I can trust you, Josiah.”

  “I’m still a tough guy,” he insisted.

  Riley nodded, but didn’t answer. A few minutes later, emotionally spent and physically drained, she fell asleep in his arms. He lay awake for several minutes afterward, studying the contrast of her milky skin and his tanned hide, listening to the soft snore against his chest, wondering at the longing that squeezed around his heart. Yeah, he was in a powerful lot of lust with this sexy woman. Gorgeous hair. Sinful lips. Luscious curves. Sweet vulnerability and sassy attitude. But there were also feelings that were warmer, deeper, less familiar. Sometimes, she made him angry. Sometimes, she made him afraid. And sometimes, she made him want…

  Before Josiah could put a name to the unsettled yearning inside him, sleep claimed him, too.

  Chapter Nine

  Riley woke with stuffy sinuses, a charley horse in her left calf and an empty couch.

  She sat up in the darkened living room, quickly scanning for Josiah. He’d turned off the lamp and put some coffee on, judging by the rich smell coming from the kitchen behind her. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, only that she felt unexpectedly rested.

  Flexing her foot, she leaned over to massage the twinge in her leg—p
robably due to a combination of standing on her feet in three-inch heels the past several nights and curling up in a tight bundle of desperation against Josiah’s warm, inviting chest. So this was the morning after. How did she explain away the crazy lady meltdown? How did she apologize for putting the brakes on her lusty seduction and leaving the man in a clear state of discomfort? How did she thank him for being the friend she needed last night instead of the man she wanted?

  Her breath eased out on a weary sigh. He must think you’re a real piece of work.

  Despite the pleasant heat in the room, Riley shivered. She pulled the crocheted cover around her like a cape and tried to figure out her next move. She had no purse, no keys, no money, no car. That left pulling herself together and asking Josiah to take her back to her place. Her face relaxed with a smile. Another ride on that Harley wouldn’t be such a bad thing, especially if she was in her right mind enough to appreciate the power and speed and wind blowing through her hair.

  But asking the favor came first. No, finding out how badly she’d messed up this budding relationship with the KCPD cop had to come first.

  Riley pushed to her feet and padded through the apartment. She heard the sound of running water and a deep, tuneless humming coming from the back of the apartment. Good, if Josiah was in the shower, that bought her a few minutes to steal a cup of coffee and gather her wits around her before they shared another serious conversation. The last time she’d cried like that she’d been living on the streets, with no money and some serious choices to make about her future. The last time she’d slept in her underwear, the underwear hadn’t stayed on and she’d snuck out of the bed and dressed before her date had even awakened.

  She followed the smell of the coffee through the living room and eat-in kitchen. The oversize furniture, made of solid oak and covered in black leather or brown tweed suited him. Plain. Sturdy. Masculine.

  She found a mug in the cabinet next to the sink and drank half of it—black, when she couldn’t find any half-and-half or creamer in the fridge. Fortified by warmth and caffeine, Riley followed the off-key melody to the bathroom in the hallway. The shower had ended and a bright rectangle of light around the partially open door gave her a path to follow.

  Clutching the afghan together at her neck, she raised her fist to knock. But she jumped back with a startled gasp when the door opened wide and she stood face-to-face with Josiah. Well, face to chest, maybe.

  “Good morning.” The deep-pitched greeting reverberated in that massive chest and tingled over her nerve endings, waking parts of her the coffee hadn’t.

  He wore a towel, tucked low around his hips, and a half beard of shaving cream. He held a razor in one hand and a damp washcloth in the other. His skin glistened with droplets of water from his shower, and even standing with a foot of space between them, she felt the heat of the water, and the man himself, radiating off his body.

  “Do you need anything?” he asked.

  Riley shook her head. “I’m good. I helped myself to your coffee.”

  “That’s what it’s for.” He held up the razor and washcloth, excusing himself to return to the mirror and sink to finish shaving. “Did I wake you?”

  “No.” She followed him part way in, leaning against the doorjamb to watch him work. Stroke after stroke, he swept the razor over the angles of his jaw, leaving smooth, masculine skin behind. And though that light blue towel covered all the interesting parts, it still did a nice job of hugging the muscles of his thighs and buttocks, getting her blood humming along with that wordless tune of his. Riley pushed her hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear, feeling a lot less ready for the day than he looked. “What time is it?”

  “A little after four a.m. I figured I’d let you sleep as long as you wanted to. I usually eat breakfast and then take a nap in the afternoon. You’re welcome to join me.” For breakfast or the nap? And why was she hoping he meant both? “Or I can take you back to your car or your own apartment if you prefer.”

  “You know where I live?”

  “Background check, remember?” He rinsed the razor off under the faucet and wiped his face and neck with the wet cloth. “I know it’s only been a couple of hours, but are you feeling better?”

  Riley nodded. “PTSD’s a bitch, isn’t it? I’m not usually all out of control like that.”

  “I know.”

  “How do you know? My personality quirks aren’t part of any background check.” She reached up to wipe a streak of shaving cream off the back of his head. “Missed a spot.”

  “So did you.” Her skin seemed to crackle when he wiped a spot of crystallized tears and mascara off her cheek with the washcloth.

  The teasing touches felt intimate. Suddenly, she was aware of the silence of the building around them as the rest of the world slept through the night. It was just the two of them in this small, warm room. Riley and Josiah. Woman and man. And the heated longing in his whiskey brown eyes filled her with a different sort of need than she’d felt a few hours earlier.

  He snapped out of the endless moment first, turning on the faucet to rinse out the washcloth. Riley followed his cue and reached for a hand towel, toning down the desire bleeding through her pores. He was probably leery of being left hanging twice. She couldn’t blame him. She hadn’t meant to use him the way she had. She was so unaccustomed to dealing with her emotions and the trauma of her past that she’d instinctively turned to sex, subconsciously hoping to bury her fear and shame beneath the euphoric physical release. Josiah had asked her to trust him, and she had.

  But she’d need to earn his trust, too, if she wanted them to be anything more than partners or friends.

  Still clutching the afghan around her, Riley lightened her tone to match his, and stepped up beside him in front of the mirror. She touched the puffy skin around her eyes, and the purplish bruises that had darkened around her throat. “God, I look awful. Curse of being a redhead. Every mark shows on this skin. Any more soap? After that crying jag, it looks like the only makeup I have on is the stuff smeared around my eyes. I feel the need to wash my face.”

  “Sure.” Josiah moved behind her to retrieve the soap from the shower. “I don’t have anything girlie, but this’ll get the job done. Towels and washcloths are in the closet behind you.”

  “This is fine.” Her pulse fluttered as he placed the damp bar in her hand. The spicy fresh scent smelled like Josiah. He expected her to bathe in the masculine scent she found so enticing? Busying herself before she embarrassed herself, Riley pulled a washcloth and towel from the closet. “I’d kill for some tennis shoes and a T-shirt right now. I’ve been wearing those spiked heels for so long now that my calf muscles have permanent cricks in them.”

  “Tell you what, I’m done in here. I’ll give you some privacy and you can jump into the shower. I left you plenty of hot water.”

  “Yeah, about that…” When she turned around, he was right there. How could a woman not want to run her fingers over the hills and planes of that muscular chest? “Earlier this morning…” She swallowed hard and forced her eyes up to his. “I didn’t mean to be a tease. I hope I didn’t force you to take a cold shower.”

  Josiah did the last thing she expected. He leaned down and covered her mouth with a kiss. Riley was on her toes, chasing after his lips when he pulled away. “Baby, I’ve taken a cold shower every night since I met you.”

  With that confession and a swat on her bottom to move her toward the shower, he left the bathroom and pulled the door to behind him.

  What am I going to do with that man? Riley mused. He made her feel pretty and appreciated, without having a single slick line in his arsenal. She stripped off her undies and stepped into the shower stall. Her sister had once joked that Riley should write a manual about how to read and deal with men. But Dudley Do-Right there stymied her. Maybe that was one of the things she found so intriguing about the Kansas City cop. She didn’t have him all figured out.

  The warm water sluicing through her hair and over her
skin felt wonderful. The steam filling up the shower smelled like the soap Josiah used, and any lingering imprints of other men on her skin washed away and floated down the drain.

  But where did she stand with Josiah? Did that kiss mean things were okay between them? That she hadn’t scared him off with her embarrassing freak-out? Was he still going to help her find Megan? Did he trust her sanity enough that he was still willing to let her help him get the evidence they needed to stop Slade Russell and whatever tonight’s big event might be? And did that kiss mean there was still a chance for something more between them?

  Spilling her guts to Josiah had been emotionally cathartic. She was pretty sure she wasn’t going to be able to stuff all the memories and fears back inside that survivor’s lockbox anymore. But she felt okay that he knew her secrets. Felt like maybe those dark memories and frightening emotions were safe with him. She understood sexual intimacy better than most. But that emotional intimacy that Josiah forced on her—that she’d forced on him…no, that he’d made her feel secure enough to share with him—that was new to her. This connection with the bossy, burly detective was deeper than the animal attraction she felt. It was exciting, and maybe just a little scary. She couldn’t control a man when there were feelings involved. She was the one giving up control, trusting a man to have her back so she wouldn’t get hurt.

  The thoughts that filled her mind cleared with the cool breeze that swept over her skin, raising goose bumps even though the water was still warm. Guessing the cause of the change in temperature, Riley smiled before she turned around to face the outline of the tall man watching her through the shower’s glass door.

  A flicker of the same power she’d enjoyed for a few moments when they’d first walked into his apartment coursed through her again. This time, though, with a healthier, clear-headed desire. She pushed open the shower door to find Josiah’s hungry eyes feasting on her wet, naked body. So there was a little bad boy in this good guy, after all. “Enjoying the show, Detective?”