Sanctuary (Family Justice Book 3)

by Halliday, Suzanne

  She made a hushed sound, and he peered into the darkness to see what it was. She was scrabbling through her purse and when she produced a handful of tissues, he recognized the sound as her sniffling.

  “Are you crying?” he anxiously whispered. “Why are you crying? Don’t cry.” He’d covered every base not that it helped any. Shaking her head, she gave him a watery half-smile and wiped her nose.

  “Happy endings. Always make me cry.”

  It was ten kinds of wrong that when she said happy endings, he thought of something entirely different than how a movie ended.

  Wait. The movie ended? As the house lights came up, he practically grabbed her and ran from the theater. Waiting impatiently as she gathered her coat and purse, he let her load him up with empty popcorn bags and drink cups. Heaven forbid they left a mess. When she insisted on visiting the ladies’ room in the lobby, he’d been left standing with a group of other guys who looked just as clueless as he felt. Glancing about anxiously instead of his usual still and observant posture, he tried to find his footing in this strange situation.

  Mother of god, he thought with a frown. I’m one of the bathroom guardians now.

  Subjecting her to a hard once-over when she came around the corner and walked to his side, he noticed two things immediately. Seeming put out about something, the sexy counselor was giving off a definite vibe … although pinning down what the vibe was didn’t come easily. The woman was a fucking pro at hiding her feelings.

  Got what you deserved, asshole, he imagined the guys snickering.

  And then there was the not meeting his eyes thing that was getting old. What the hell? Did she really imagine he was going to let that shit slide?

  “Come on,” he gritted down at her. Not waiting for her to take his arm, he captured her hand and pulled as he set off for the door. If they were going to get into it, he needed some sort of privacy.

  Walking straight through a crowd of people making for the parking lot as if they weren’t even there, he considered pulling a Neanderthal move out of his ass by tossing her over his shoulder. Whatever the hell was going on stirred up his primal side. Testosterone was thick in the air.

  Rolling his eyes, Brody grunted as he stomped along. Testosterone was thick in the air? Jesus Christ. When did he become such a chick?

  “Dammit, Brody. Slow down, would you?” she demanded. Yanking back on his hand, she stumbled to a halt and dug in. In the animal world, she was doing what was known as going defensive. She might not be ready to strike, but she was damn sure getting into position.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” she burst out. “Why the rush? Your car turning back into a pumpkin or something?”

  With a mocking frown, he answered her. “You’re not talking. Something is clearly fucking with your Chi. And since you won’t just spit it out, I’m forced to drag it out of you.”

  She sputtered a bit but didn’t come back at him.

  Uh-huh. “So if you don’t want to be dragged to the car, get your ass in gear and start walking. And be ready to explain because I’m not taking a shrug or a sigh as an answer.”

  Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. With a show of false bravado, Heather stepped around the hulking lug blocking her way and homed in on the Suburban. There would be no dragging.

  At the car, he came to her side and started touching her. Little strokes. Down an arm. On her neck. Pushing hair behind her ear. When he anchored a warm hand at her waist, she stilled and gazed up. His mouth, the one she wanted crushed to hers, held her attention. His lips parted. She could hear his breathing.

  The air around them thickened with emotion. When he leaned close and whispered in her ear, Heather whimpered softly and shivered.

  “Whatever it is, I apologize.”

  Oh. He apologized. How sweet. Her body swayed closer to his. Hold up … what? Raising her eyes, she was struck by the intensity of his expression.

  ”You make me,” he murmured with increasing hesitation. Wearing a rueful expression, he drawled, “Unbalanced. You make me unbalanced.”

  Well, shit. At least, it wasn’t just her.

  “And don’t look so happy about it,” he teased a second later.

  Releasing a soft laugh, she deliberately set out to rattle his cage just as he rattled hers. Carving her fingers through his shaggy hair, she breathed him in for a moment then growled, “Fair play.”

  She thought he’d kiss her then, but his jaw tensed and she saw the faint movements that told her he was clenching it tight. Recognizing that he wasn’t in play mode, she backed off. The second she did, he took over.

  Reaching behind her, he found the door handle and pulled. “Get in.”

  Grateful for his help getting into the big vehicle, she swallowed hard when he made no effort to pretend he wasn’t taking liberties. Running his hands on her bottom, leaning across her lap to fix the seat belt, even rearranging the long sweater duster she wore over her dress. For that task, he took an inordinately long time smoothing the soft fabric over her thighs.

  When he was finished, he drew back but stayed inside her personal space with scant inches separating their faces. Heather stared helplessly at his mouth. Before their relationship took this paradigm shift to the surreal, she would have simply seized control of the situation and taken what she wanted. But those days were gone. Blindly pursuing physical gratification wasn’t on the agenda any longer. Now that feelings were engaged … his and hers … everything was different.

  “I know what you want,” he murmured. She heard the telltale thrum of masculine lust lacing his voice and knew she’d do anything to satisfy it. The instinct to please this man, no matter what it took, shook Heather straight to her soul-center.

  Why wouldn’t he kiss her? Why? Looking him in the eye, she froze. Maybe she breathed, maybe she didn’t.

  “But it’s not happening until you want to be with me as much as you want to be with me.”

  Huh? Did the record skip? And then she saw it in his expression. The emphasis on being with him was about the emotional being at least as equal as the physical.

  Damnit. It was hard to think straight. He was so close, she could taste his scent. Her senses picked up the aroma of popcorn and the pleasant tang of sweat. A faint sheen gathering on his neck told her how much control he was exercising over his desires.

  “If that’s the case, why the touching? Do you really think I can’t latch my own seat belt?” What she said wasn’t a taunt and her voice made that clear. She was serious. If he wasn’t going to touch her until they worked this part out, why the sensual torture when he had no intention of acting on it? Felt like a reasonable enough question.

  “Because I’m not made of stone,” he growled. “And because if I can’t touch you at all, I’ll go fucking insane.”

  That was when the devil took her hand and crushed it against the unmistakable prominence of his very firm manhood. If he wasn’t made of stone, what the hell was the hard ridge pressed into her palm?

  Reading her expression and zeroing in on her lip biting, he ground out, “Don’t even try to make a joke.”

  A heavy sigh heaved her chest. No jokes. And no more apologies. “I’m instituting a new rule. No apologies.”

  He blinked. His expression confused.

  “Look,” she quickly ground out, “apologies are a poor substitute for communication. You said it before. I knew what you meant by being with you. Come in out of the cold and let’s talk. Right here. Now. Okay?”

  A small smile flashed on his face. “I’ve got to give it you, m’lady. It’s refreshing to be with a woman who doesn’t play fucking games. You’ve got cojones aplenty.”

  Well, that’s a new one, she thought. And you know what? I’m taking it.

  Brody knew he looked ridiculous running like a crazy man from one side of the car to the other like his ass was on fire, but he didn’t care. She was ready to talk, and he couldn’t get in the driver’s seat fast enough.

  Seated, the engine on and heat set comfortabl
y, he turned toward her and gave every scintilla of attention he could.

  There’d be no verbal gymnastics. He went straight to what bothered him. “I need to know if I did something or said something to your mother that upset you.”

  Unbuttoning her jacket, she nodded. Now, if only she’d do more than unbutton. His jaw clenched as he imagined her stripped to her underwear and falling face first into his lap.

  When she swiveled enough to lean back against the car door then crossed her legs, he made a fierce effort to rein in his thoughts.

  In a husky murmur she said, “You didn’t do anything.” With an apologetic shrug, she confessed, “I do it to myself. And for the record … I don’t blame you.”

  “Did you not want me to meet your mom?”

  “Oh god, no. I’m glad you did, but she hustled me and you know how that goes. Would I have preferred a meeting took place on my terms and when I was ready? Of course. But that’s not how parents operate.”

  He sniggered and gave her an amusing smirk. “Understood. Pops lets me blow all sorts of bullshit sunshine up his shorts. And then when he wants answers, I’m sorta fucked. Y’know?”

  “Exactly,” she drawled. He liked when she made a smirking face. It got him smiling every time. “First, she laid on a shmear of guilt so thick I couldn’t defend. When she pulled her ace out of the hat and demanded a face-to-face … like you said. Fucked.”

  “So she knew about us?”

  Her laughter rang out. “No. She suspected and after an airing of all my grievous faults, I wasn’t going to deny it. But here’s the thing and please don’t take any of this personally. That’s important, okay? No matter how this sounds, it’s about me. Not you.”

  He nodded. This was a point that came up time all the time in their group. Separating other people’s feelings about what was happening from yours. Not everything was a two-way street.

  “Okay, here goes.” She made eye contact and didn’t look away. “I know this is fucked up, but when I really think about it, maybe one reason why I’ve held myself apart from practically everything, “ she grimaced. “Has more to do with what I’m feeling right now than anything that happened to me.”

  His eyes bored into hers.

  “You see, I have a history of going along with things. Maybe simplistic, but accurate.”

  “I don’t understand. You’re about the least likely person to be a follower.”

  “Seems that way now, I know. But what people see is more about denial than leadership. When I look back, all I see is someone who went with the flow. No boat rocking for me. And look how that ended.”

  Ohhh. Right. He knew what this was now. Her mother referred to him as a boyfriend. He’d unconsciously noted Heather flinch at the word. But it was just a word, and if he wasn’t her boyfriend, then what did that make him?

  “Heather,” he grunted. She looked wary, but he plowed on. He’d asked her to trust him. It was up to him to keep the pressure on since that seemed to be the only way to keep their relationship moving forward. They were so close now that he could see glimmers of the future. All she needed was a helping hand, and she’d get there on her own.

  “I know what’s in your heart even when you keep things bottled up inside. Did you think I wouldn’t notice that your mom called me your boyfriend or that your reaction went unnoticed?”

  He saw the relief in her eyes and didn’t exactly feel bad that Jason Allen was dead and buried. ‘Cause if he weren’t, he’d have to hunt him down and kick his ass for stealing her confidence.

  Trying to inject a bit of levity, he grinned. “Now, I know that at our advanced ages.” He laughed when she gasped. “The terms boy and girl friend seem like a joke, but be honest … what else fits? And I recall asking your consent to be the official boyfriend person. Remember?”

  She crossed her arms and speared him with a mock glare. On a sniff of outrage, she starchily said, “Well, since you’ve taken lovers off the table …”

  “Fuck. Wait! What did you say? Lovers?” he barked. “Are you admitting we’re lovers? Holy shit, lady. If that’s the case, hand me your panties and do it quickly.”

  “Brody!” She giggled when he reached out and playfully started pulling on her dress.

  “No. I’m serious, Ms. Clarke. I knew this dating shit would pay off! Lovers. Fuck, yeah.”

  “Oh.” She chortled while slapping his hands away. “So all this has just been a ploy to get me into bed.”

  “Bed. The front seat. Out in the parking lot. Up against the car. An elevator. Your office. It’s all good,” he growled.

  “Can you be serious for five minutes?”

  Serious? Sure. He could do serious. Leaning toward the center console, he reached a hand, curled it around her neck, and pulled. “This serious enough for you?” And then he kissed her. When he was sure she got the message, he released her with a groan.

  “What happened to keeping a distance?”

  “See this?” He pointed at the console. “It’s a fucking chastity belt. Long as you stay on that side, your reputation remains intact.”

  “Such a guy,” she moaned lightheartedly.

  Okay, good. She eased up. That was what he’d hoped for. Now, he could try to make a point she needed to hear.

  “Heather. I want you in my life. Yeah, I see that the days are ticking by and more changes are coming our way, but that’s life, honey. Nothing stays the same. At least, it shouldn’t. And meeting what life hands us isn’t about going along. You can walk away anytime.”

  “I know, but …”

  “Nuh-uh. Stop that shit. No apologies and no buts. You talk to me, and we work it out. I already told you, as much as I want Arizona to be in our future, without you, it’s not worth it.”

  “But …”

  He arched an eyebrow and cocked his head. “You have a hard time doing what you’re told. I said no to the buts. I’m your goddamn boyfriend, understood? And if you’re a good girl and stop being such a pain in the ass …”

  She swatted his arm and barked, “Hey!” so fast he jerked back.

  Grabbing both her hands in a grip she’d never wiggle free from, he chuckled. “If you’d let me finish—what I started to say was that if you’d stop being a pain, I have a question to ask you.”

  Heather gasped. He plowed on. “An important question.”

  “MRS. ANDERS. I appreciate your concern for Harry’s grades, but this is college. Not high school. You can’t expect to personally lobby each of his instructors and hector them into a grade he didn’t earn.”

  The hands-on mom with the patented do you know who you're dealing with haughtiness tried staring her down. Situations like this were exactly why her job was losing its appeal. While the clueless parent manufactured a stink about her son’s lackluster G.P.A., Harry the asshole sat across the office with his phone doing god knows what. Candy Crush maybe. Or worse. He was probably snap chatting this entire conversation.

  What the hell ever happened to using her talents and skills to be an agent of change? Pfft.

  “Let’s see what Harry does for the remainder of this term. I mean, after all, it’s up to him. He’s been assigned a tutor for math and science, but so far …” She glanced down at the stack of notes before her. “So far, he hasn’t shown up even once.”

  Harry snickered but never looked up from his phone. Little fucker. Manners optional, much? She wanted to get up, march over to him, rip the damn phone out of his hand, and stomp it to pieces.

  A dull throb was moving side to side in her head. She needed some Advil. Or the chocolate bar stashed in her desk drawer. Either would do.

  Checking the calendar in the corner of her monitor, she added, “There are nine weeks until finals. More than enough time for your son to turn things around.”

  Goosebumps raced up the back of her neck when the calendar showed more than just marking periods. In four short weeks, Brody would be heading to Boston for spring break to attend a Justice wedding. And she was going with him. As his �
�� girlfriend.

  Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. She wanted this annoying woman and her obnoxious, entitled, do nothing kid to hit the road so she could go back to sitting in her empty office and obsess over every nuance and detail of what she was inviting into her life.

  But first, Mrs. Anders and her demon spawn had to go. Nothing was being accomplished in this meeting, she reminded herself. Nothing. It was sad on so many levels. Here was a kid being handed an education but what was he doing? God only knows, but from an academic standpoint, he wasn’t even phoning it in.

  This was her professional life. No wonder her brain felt like it was being squished. With a rueful smirk, she tuned in to what was being said and decided that both the Advil and the chocolate were getting the call. This nonsense was bullshit.

  In the end, she simply smiled and nodded sympathetically but stood her ground. She was just the messenger, after all. The instructors were in charge of this particular speeding train.

  Relieved when the door shut behind her last scheduled appointment for the day, Heather sank into her chair and folded melodramatically onto the wood desk like a marionette whose strings were suddenly cut.

  “Fuck. My. Life.” A long, drawn-out sigh-groan rumbled from deep inside. What if this was it? Professional Feather Calmer and Chain Rattling Buster. That was her.

  Bzzz. Bzzz. She opened an eye and watched her buzzing phone vibrate on the desk. Without picking up her head, she lifted a limp hand and angled the device so it tilted enough to see the screen. Who in the hell was bothering her at work?

  Brody. Quickly sitting up, she swatted away a sticky note stuck to her cheek and nibbled her lip. He was conscientious about not interrupting her professional day, but then again, strictly speaking, it was quitting time.

  Her body’s traitorous reaction was instantaneous. Breasts tight and aching. Heart pounding. Panties heating up. She pressed her thighs together to stop the pulsing twinges that unraveled her every time.