Under His Skin

by Rita Herron

  Finding peace of mind was a different story. Even in sleep, she’d been conscious that her life was in danger. That somehow by the grace of God, she’d been spared the day before, but that her number might be up any moment.

  She didn’t want to die. Not alone. Not without knowing a man’s love or a baby’s tug at her breast. She wanted marriage, love, children and a happily-ever-after that had been stolen from her parents and her when she was seven.

  And from her brother just a few short months ago.

  By noon, she sat up, unable to sleep any more and antsy to leave the hospital.

  Parker closed the folder he’d been reading and gave her a concerned look. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better,” she said honestly. “I hope they’ll let me go home soon.”

  “What? Don’t tell me you hate hospitals?”

  She laughed at his dry humor. “Just when I’m a patient.”

  A small grin tugged at his mouth. “I know what you mean. I’m ready to get out of here myself.”

  She adjusted the hospital gown and tugged the blanket over her lap. “Did they release you?”

  He nodded. “I can check into the rehab facility anytime.”

  “Then what’s keeping you?”

  “You.” His gaze met hers, emotions simmering beneath the steamy surface of his eyes. That and an undercurrent of sexual tension.

  Or maybe she was imagining the predatory look because of her own fantasies.

  “Parker, I appreciate you staying here with me, but I’m all right now.”

  He made a grunting noise. “Yeah, until the next time this maniac comes after you.”

  She bit down on her lip and twisted the covers between her fingers. A second later Parker moved to the bed and sat beside her, then lifted her chin with his thumb, forcing her to look at him.

  “I’m not going to let him get you, Grace. I promise.”

  The sound of someone clearing his throat intruded on the moment and Parker pivoted to find Dr. Whitehead watching. “Mr. Kilpatrick?”

  Parker stood and walked to the window, putting distance between him and Grace. “Doctor.”

  Grace bit back a smile at his clipped tone. If Wilson hadn’t interrupted, what would have happened?

  Would Parker have kissed her?

  PARKER CLENCHED his hands by his sides in frustration, silently chastising himself for nearly kissing Grace. If Whitehead hadn’t walked in when he had, Parker would have pulled her into his arms and tasted her.

  Damn it, he wanted to taste her bad.

  But he had to restrain himself. Grace might be vulnerable, needy, frightened, but he had no right to take advantage of that vulnerability.

  Especially when he had nothing to offer her but protection as a cop.

  The sight of the suave, rich, Dr. Whitehead was enough to ground him in reality. Although Parker didn’t like the possessive way the man was looking at Grace, as if he could eat her up like cotton candy.

  Hell, whether the captain approved or not, he was going to protect Grace. He had nothing but time on his hands, and he would use it to keep Grace safe.

  Grace threw off the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. It was the first time he’d seen her legs bare, and he couldn’t help but admire their slender, muscular shape.

  “Dr. Whitehead,” Grace said. “I hope you intend to release me now.”

  “Are you sure you’re ready to go home, Grace? You suffered quite a blow to the head.”

  “Yes, Wilson. I’ll rest better in my own bed than in the hospital, and we both know it.”

  “But the hospital has security,” Whitehead said. “And there are people to take care of you if you need something.”

  Parker grimaced. And Whitehead was here. He didn’t say it, but obviously he would be looking in on Grace, personally seeing to her care.

  “She won’t be alone,” Parker cut in. “Grace needs a bodyguard and I’m taking the job.”

  Grace gaped at him, stunned into silence while Whitehead glared at him as if he were an alien. An incompetent one at that.

  “You’re hardly in a position to take care of anyone,” Whitehead said harshly.

  “I’m well enough to be released,” Parker argued. “Besides, from what I’ve seen so far, your hospital security is lacking. Grace was first attacked here, you know.”

  Whitehead’s look turned lethal but he couldn’t argue the point.

  “Parker, I appreciate the offer,” Grace murmured, “but it’s not necessary—”

  “The subject is not up for debate,” Parker said brusquely. “My partner confirmed that your brake lines were cut, Grace. Someone caused you to crash yesterday. It was no accident. And so far we haven’t identified or found the man who attacked you in the stairwell. We haven’t even found a company that uses the logo from the man’s uniform in the picture, so it had to be bogus.”

  Grace paled, stirring guilt in Parker’s chest. But Grace needed to know the truth so she would be alert. So she would accept his help.

  And so they could catch the bastard who’d put her in the hospital and nearly put her in the ground like her brother.

  GRACE ALWAYS kept a change of clothes in her locker at the hospital, so she changed into the cotton skirt, tank top and sandals before being dismissed. Then she and Parker caught a cab to his cabin at CIRP’s rehab facility for him to pack a bag and retrieve his gun. He felt naked without it, he’d said. While she waited in the taxi, she called her insurance company to arrange for a rental car. At the rental car place, she chose a Corolla, but Parker insisted on driving, reminding her that she’d suffered a concussion only twenty-four hours earlier.

  It felt odd to relinquish control to him, yet almost natural, more natural than she wanted to admit. She could get used to having someone to lean on, alleviate the burden she’d carried all her life.

  Yet Parker was a cop, not the kind of man to settle down with a family, not the kind to stick around.

  “Do you need to stop anywhere before we go to your cottage?” he asked.

  “Maybe the grocery store. I…don’t know what you like to eat.”

  He reached across the console and laid his hand over hers. “I don’t expect you to cook for me or wait on me, Grace. I’m not an invalid. I’m here to take care of you.”

  Maybe they could take care of each other. The offer teetered on the edge of her tongue, but she bit it back. “I don’t know what to say, Parker. You really don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, I do,” he said in a gruff voice. “At least until whoever tried to kill you is in prison where he belongs.”

  She sighed and tried to ignore the tingling in her hand where he was touching her, tried to stifle the desire building inside her, the need to have more with this man. To ask him to stay because he wanted to be with her, wanted to hold her, kiss her, join her in bed.

  But he’d made his intentions clear, and she had to accept them. She knew better than anyone the instincts ingrained in cops, that she couldn’t change the man beneath the badge.

  She admired that man, but she couldn’t live with what he did—not after losing her family because of it.

  She needed someone safe. Someone who would be around every day, who would come home in the evenings and share dinner with her, who wouldn’t keep her up at night worrying if he was dead or alive.

  Someone like Wilson.

  So why hadn’t she accepted any of his overtures? Why didn’t she tingle and feel the stirrings of desire, the heat, when he touched her hand?

  Parker stopped at a grocery store and they gathered a few essentials, along with some pasta, fresh fish and a bottle of wine. When they were back in the car, Parker spoke again. “I know you said you live on Tybee, but you’ll have to give me directions to your cottage.”

  She pointed out the streets as he drove onto the island.

  “How did you end up on Tybee?” he asked.

  She breathed in the scent of the ocean, the palm trees, heard the gentle cicadas
in the distance, the water rushing to the shore. Its familiarity resurrected sweet memories. “My parents owned this cottage,” she said. “They used to bring me and Bruno here when we were small.”

  “So this was a second home?”

  She nodded. “My father was a cop, too, you know. He and mom needed a place to get away from it all.”

  “How did your father afford two houses on a cop’s salary?”

  Anger knotted her insides. “What are you suggesting, Parker? That my father was a dirty cop?”

  “Not at all, just curious.”

  She flexed her fingers, realizing she’d sounded defensive. “The cottage belonged to my grandparents. When they died, they willed it to my dad. It had been his childhood home so he couldn’t bear to sell it.”

  “It means a lot to you, too.”

  His observation surprised her. “Yes. It holds a lot of happy family memories for me. The four of us used to take long walks on the beach together, build sandcastles, collect shells. My mother strung them together to make me a necklace when I was three.” Her voice broke as her mother’s smiling face flashed in her mind.

  “I thought your parents were killed at home?” he asked quietly.

  “They were, but at our other house in Atlanta, not here.” Their bloody images replaced the fond ones so quickly that it choked her breath. “I guess that makes this cabin even more special. It’s the only place I remember truly being happy.” The admission brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Sorry. I guess you didn’t need to hear all that.”

  He veered into her drive, pulled to a stop and then turned to face her. “I’m glad you told me. You should be happy, Grace. And you will be again one day when this is over….”

  The inside of the car suddenly closed around her, seemed to cocoon them into their own world. The scent of his shampoo and body filled the space, drawing her into a seductive spell.

  She licked her lips, wanted him to kiss her, ached to pull him closer and feel his body next to hers.

  As if he felt the same intense draw, he reached for her, slid his hand up around her neck, threaded his fingers in her hair and dragged her toward him. The air simmered with hunger, with the raw need building between them.

  She whispered his name, her voice vibrating with the husky plea for him to mold his mouth to hers, and he complied. With a whispered sigh of acquiesce, he lowered his head and claimed her mouth with his.

  He tasted like need and man and the headiest combination of sin that made her mouth water for more, so she slid her arms around his neck and told him so with a low moan of pleasure.

  PARKER PLUNGED his tongue into Grace’s mouth, emboldened by the low throaty sounds she emitted, sounds that reverberated with need and hunger.

  A hunger he felt all the way to his soul.

  He had never wanted a woman the way he wanted Grace, had never ached to hold her and kiss her, to feel her in his arms, to give her pleasure and hear her cry his name.

  But he wanted more, of course. He wanted all of Grace. Grace in his arms, Grace in his bed, Grace in his life….

  Tensing, he ordered himself to pull away. He couldn’t allow her to breach the barrier he’d erected so long ago, the one that made it possible for him to maintain enough objectivity to do his job.

  His job was the only thing that mattered.

  Until Grace…

  His resistance shattered, he deepened the kiss, savoring the way her soft body brushed his, the way her breasts touched his chest, the way her tongue danced with his. Her hair glided through his fingers like fine silk as he pulled her closer, and the scent of her body made him insane with desire.

  He had to get her inside the cottage. Take off her clothes. Feel her bare skin against his fingertips. Taste the delicate skin of her neck…and lower.

  A horn blared, startling them both and they jerked apart, both pivoting at the same time as if they’d been caught naked in the middle of a public park. A black pickup sat behind them, a hefty gray-haired man with a frown on his face glaring at Parker.

  “Oh, goodness…” Grace dropped her head forward with a sigh.

  “Who in the hell is that?” Parker asked.

  “Frank Johnson. He’s a family friend, used to work with my dad.” She released her grip from where she’d been clutching his shirt as if she wanted to tear it off.

  He wanted her to tear it off. Wanted this man to disappear so they could finish what they’d begun.

  But Frank climbed out and stalked toward him. The man was ticked off.

  Damn. The kiss he’d shared with Grace was probably the last one he would get tonight.

  Resigned, Parker opened the car door and headed around the front of the car to help Grace, but Frank beat him to it.

  “Grace, good God, are you okay? I called the hospital to talk to you and found out you’d been admitted.” He gripped her arms and looked her up and down as if to check for injuries. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I’m fine, Frank.” Grace spoke softly, but the smile in her voice told Parker that she had affection for the man. “I did have an accident, and a minor concussion, but as you can see, I’m okay.”

  “What I see are bruises on your forehead and pale skin.” He hugged her to him. “Don’t you know how crazy with worry I’ve been? I couldn’t stand it if I lost you.”

  “I’m sorry, Frank, I didn’t want to upset you. That’s why I didn’t call.”

  Frank’s skin turned ruddy as he finally released Grace and glared at Parker. “Who is this?” he asked Grace.

  Grace introduced him, and Parker extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m a detective with the S.P.D. I’ve heard about your years of service.”

  Frank stiffened but accepted the handshake. “Really?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What are you doing here with Grace?”

  Suspicion laced Frank’s voice, making Parker wonder if his instant dislike of Parker was because he was kissing Grace or because he was a cop.

  Grace gave Parker a pleading look as if to ask him not to tell Frank the truth, but Parker didn’t believe in mincing words. Besides, Bruno’s partner Roundtree had told him to talk to Frank about the Gardeners’ murder. “I’m playing bodyguard to Grace.” He quickly explained that her accident was no accident, but another attempt on her life.

  Frank scrubbed a hand over the thick tufts of his hair, spiking the ends in scattered directions. “I told you to stop poking around, Grace. Now I hope you’ll listen.”

  Parker squared his shoulders. “That’s not going to happen. I’m on the case now, and I intend to find out who tried to kill Grace. If it has to do with Bruno’s death or her parents’, then I’ll find those answers, as well.”

  Frank shifted onto the balls of his feet, turning to Grace as if to dismiss Parker. “Grace, if you need protection, I’ll call one of my buddies. You don’t need this man here. He’ll only bring more danger to your door.”

  “Mr. Johnson—”

  Grace threw up a hand to stop Parker from arguing. She must have sensed the tension between the two men and meant to diffuse it, but Parker refused to allow anyone to intimidate him.

  Roundtree had admitted that Bruno suspected his father had discovered a cop on his squad was on the take.

  Could that cop have been Frank, Mr. Gardener’s own partner?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Grace had to dispel the tension between Parker and Frank. Ever since her parents had died, and then Bruno, Frank had been protective of her, so she’d have expected him to welcome a cop as her bodyguard.

  But he obviously disapproved of Parker.

  She massaged her temple where her earlier headache pulsed again. Between her injury and the sun pounding down on her, she was beginning to feel light-headed. “Guys, can we please take this inside? The heat is getting to me.”

  Parker placed a hand behind her back to guide her inside. “Sorry. You should be resting.”

  Frank’s lips thinned. “Of co
urse, Grace.”

  She led the way and unlocked the door, dropping her purse on the end table as she entered. Parker helped her settle on the couch, then hurried back to the car to retrieve the groceries while Frank claimed a seat beside her.

  He folded her hands between his. “Can I get you anything, Grace?”

  “No, I really am okay. You should be with Kelly, not worrying about me.”

  “Miss Evie is sitting with her now. I told her I wouldn’t be long, but I had to talk to you.”

  Parker busied himself by storing her groceries in the adjoining kitchen, and Frank leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. “He seems to be moving in on you. Are you sure you can trust him, Grace?”

  She wasn’t sure whether to laugh at his possessive fatherly tone or to be angered by his lack of trust in her judgment. “Yes, Frank. In case you didn’t read about him in the paper, he’s a local hero. He’s spent the last few months undergoing surgery and then rehab because he raced into a fire to save a woman’s life.”

  Frank’s expression remained grave. “Admirable, I suppose. But if he was just released from the hospital, he may not be well enough to protect you.”

  “He’s one of the strongest men I’ve ever met,” Grace said earnestly.

  Parker stepped into the room and cleared his throat. “Groceries are put away.”

  It was such a domestic thing to say that she suddenly felt an intimate connection with him. That and knowing that he’d be sleeping in her home brought an uncharacteristic blush to her face.

  Although when Parker faced Frank, tension radiated between them, sparking a seed of dread to sprout in her belly.

  “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, Mr. Johnson,” Parker said.

  “It’s Frank.”

  Parker nodded. “All right, Frank.”

  “What’s this about?” Frank asked.

  “Do you know a guy named Juan Carlos?”

  Frank scrunched his nose in thought. “No. Should I?”

  “He’s spent time in jail for drugs. Bruno put him there.”

  “So you think he shot Bruno out of revenge?”