by Ann Major
A bitter grimace chased across his mouth. “Why not me?”
His compelling gaze met hers. She was aware of a sudden bolt [JO36]of electricity flowing between them, its tingling heat almost a tangible thing.
“You know why,” she whispered.
“Look, chere...”
He seemed too close, so Noelle took another half step backward. The hot light in his eyes was making her senses reel.
“Don’t call me that. And I don’t want to talk about it.”
“About coming to my house? Or about what happened to Eva tonight?”
“Neither.”
“Then we’ll talk about tonight. It was the kid from the bank, wasn’t it?”
Noelle bit her lip.
“It’s no use—your covering for him. I’m going to catch him sooner or later.”
“Why can’t you just forget about him?”
“Maybe because he committed a crime.”
Garret moved closer, out of the shadows and into the dim, golden glow of the lamp by the window. The light fully illuminated his dark, carved features, and she noticed that his face, though still handsome, was leaner and more uncompromising than ever before. Pain and sorrow had carved new lines. The harsh experiences he’d endured had stamped out all softness. He seemed tough and strong, and most of all, unrelentingly masculine.
“Noelle, I’m sorry about the way I acted that night. I’ve thought about it a lot. Especially after I heard you talked to the captain.”
“Don’t...”
“I know you don’t want me here, but I came tonight because we’re in this together. You helped him get away; I helped you. It’s our fault if he does something crazy. This could be one disturbed kid. I don’t want Evangeline or anyone else hurt. Most of all, I don’t want him to hurt you.”
“You don’t care about me.”
“I do care, chere.” This was said so softly each syllable seemed to quiver down the length of her spine.
“No. You’ve made it perfectly clear that you don’t!”
She tried to back away, but he wouldn’t let her. He put an arm on either side of her shoulders, imprisoning her. “Listen to me, Noelle...” He touched her cheek. “I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”
She twisted her face away, her amber eyes smoldering with outrage and confusion. “You never even called!”
“Because of the past. Your family—”
“Forget them! It’s you. You’re so stubborn you’ll never forgive me.”
She wouldn’t look at him, but never had she been more conscious of a man’s nearness. Why was it always like this for her? He had only come into a room, and her thoughts, her heart, her soul focused solely on him.
As always he had an uncanny sense of what she was feeling.
“Maybe I’ve got no choice but to try, chere. There hasn’t been a day I didn’t think about you, nor a night. I kept remembering the way you smelled—like those wild roses. The way you tasted—like tart honey. The way you felt...better than any other woman has ever felt to me before. I didn’t call because I know I can never fit into your world. But some nights, like tonight, when I lie in bed all alone without sleeping and start thinking about you, I wonder if you’re ever as lonely without me as I am without you.”
The image of him longing for her was treacherously tantalizing. His hands were in her hair, sifting through the bright strands. She felt his fingers on her neck, gently circling her slender throat. He was so close she could feel the warmth of his body. She inhaled the musky, unforgettable, intoxicating scent of him.
“Stop it! And don’t touch me. I don’t believe you.”
The sudden tightening of his jaw told her he was working hard to control his temper.
“I went crazy when I thought that bastard came here, that he might have hurt you.”
“You just want to catch him because they blamed you for letting him get away. No, I don’t believe—”
“Then believe this!” Garret muttered savagely, his patience at an end.
Roughly he snapped her against his body until every muscular inch was pressed against her, capturing her frantic hands that tried to push him away.
“If I scream, they’ll throw you off the case.”
“Then I’ll have to find a way to stop you from screaming.”
He covered her mouth with his. When she struggled, his arms became a vise, his fingers raking into her fiery hair, holding her neck, stilling her twisting head, forcing her lips to remain beneath his.
Noelle fought him, but his hands used her every movement to mold her body more fully to his. She felt his fingers slide across her breasts. Her hips were crushed into the wall by his rock-hard thighs. She felt the stiff leather edges of his concealed holster press into her chest as he ravaged the softness of her lips.
Despite her past humiliation and her resolve never to respond to him again, both her body and mind betrayed her. His mouth and hands evoked pleasures so intense she could not keep them secret from him. All too soon she was trembling with the strange and wonderful sensations she’d told herself she’d never let herself feel again.
The minute Garret felt her resistance begin to ebb, his own anger melted. The hardness of his arms around her and the pressure of his mouth lessened imperceptibly. With a convulsive movement, she arched her body against his.
Freeing her mouth he lowered his black head, trailing hot kisses down her throat.
“No,” she gasped weakly even as she sighed with pleasure.
His breath was deep and harsh, and he ignored her pleas as if he hadn’t heard them, his warm mouth kissing the soft green velvet that covered her breasts until the fabric became damp and hot, until her own breath became tiny gasps, until her pulse was racing out of control.
“Garret, stop. We have to stop.”
“Do we?”
Even as she pleaded, she knew he sensed she was only an instant away from total surrender.
His fingers were on the zipper of her dress. He was just as close to the edge as she was. Suddenly he pushed her away from him with a shudder and stepped back, leaning against the wall. Breathing heavily, he ran his hands through his black hair.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Forgive me.”
Every nerve in her own body was quivering as she watched him warily.
She kept studying him, dazed, as he loosened his awful tie.
“That tie’s not right for your suit,” she whispered. “It’s royal blue. You suit’s navy.”
“What?”
“I said—”
“I heard,” he muttered, his grin sheepish. “I never was much good at matching colors. It was blue, so I thought... that blue goes with blue.”
“Not always.”
His obvious embarrassment charmed her.
“I—I’ll have to go shopping with you sometime.”
“I’d like that, chere.”
They were speaking like any ordinary couple.
Suddenly she was in his arms, this time of her own volition, pressing her head tightly into his muscular shoulder, holding on to him, feeling safe and protected as she only did when he was near, safe enough to blurt it all out.
“Oh, Garret, it was awful. I wanted you to come. Only you. But I didn’t because...I’d gone to your house and thrown myself at you.”
“I know.” He petted her hair. “Tell me everything, chere.”
Her hand inadvertently touched the hard bulge of his gun beneath his coat, and she drew her hand back.
“Eva was coming home when he jumped her. He thought she was me. He wanted money. Oh, Garret, he said he was coming back.”
For a long while Garret held her tightly, comforting her despite his grim silence.
At last he spoke. “You’ve got to help me get him, Noelle.”
“No. I’m leaving town tomorrow,” she said quickly, “and taking Eva with me.”
“What?”
“There’s an estate sale in Mobile. Then we’re flying back to Baton Rouge. There
are several antique dealers along the River Road between Baton Rouge and New Orleans we always visit this time of year. Then there’s Christmas. The whole family will celebrate the holiday at Martin House.”
“When will you be back?”
“After Christmas, I’ve decided to go to Europe—to buy antiques for the shop.”
As he set Noelle away from him slowly, his cutting gaze slashed her. “You little coward. You’re running away, and you don’t care about anybody but yourself.” He grabbed her again, grip harsh.
“He only wants to see me!”
“How do you know? I made the mistake of thinking that way once! Annie’s dead because I did. Your friendly bank robber attacked Eva. He may be desperate.”
Even though Garret’s fingers dug into her arms, Noelle didn’t try to pull free. “But don’t you see? The reason I’m going is to keep her safe. You’re a good cop. You have a hundred men under you. You’ll have to find him without me.”
“Send Eva to buy antiques in Europe. I need you here, Noelle.”
Her heart leaped, but as she searched his hard face, she did not find even the slightest trace of tenderness.
“For what?” she whispered desperately.
His dark eyes were flat and cold. He only wanted to catch the thief and clear his own name.
A stone was in her heart, weighing it down.
“You don’t care about me,” she said.
“That’s not the issue. I’m a cop. I’ve got a job to do. It’s my fault Eva got attacked tonight. Yours, too. You owe me.”
“In the shop you said I would owe you nothing.”
“I made a lot of mistakes in the shop. We have to catch this guy.”
“He’s only a boy. A poor boy.” A boy who reminds me of Louis. But she did not say that.
“I know a hell of a lot more about poor boys than you do. They grow up in jungles. Jungle creatures will do anything to survive.”
“You’re too hard.”
“I can’t change what I am, chere.” He spoke with icy calm. “No matter how I might want to. No matter what I might feel for you.”
“You don’t feel anything for me.”
“I don’t want to. That much is damn sure true.”
“You only came tonight because you want to use me.” Noelle caught back a sob. “That’s why you kissed me. That’s why you held me.”
He gave her a look that was like a knife wound to her heart. “You think you know so much,” he muttered thickly in a raspy sound that suggested pain. “You don’t know me at all.” Then he turned and stalked toward the door.
She heard it open and heard it slam, but she didn’t look up until she was sure he’d gone.
Without him to warm it, the gilded room felt empty and cold. Outside in the darkness a wild wind swirled dead, wet leaves.
Feeling fresh hurt as she ran to the window and watched him stalk down the sidewalk, she shivered. She had disappointed Garret. Again.
Chapter Six
What’s he doing coming here—today?”
The words were frail and thin like the woman who had spoken them. Yet despite her fragility, the old lady’s black eyes were as sharp as ever, darting everywhere, missing nothing.
With an imperious gesture Marlea Martin used a gnarled finger to push her bifocals higher up the bridge of what Garret Cagan had once teasingly labeled “the haughtiest nose in New Orleans.”
At the tension radiating in her grandmother’s voice, Noelle, who had been overseeing the loading of her luggage and Eva’s into the Martin jet, frowned.
Even though Noelle and Eva were only flying to Mobile and then on to Baton Rouge and Martin House, Bibi had insisted the girls take the jet.
Hunching precariously over her silver cane, Marlea was a frail birdlike figure in black silk—since the death of her precious grandfather, Noelle had never seen her grandmother in any other color. No longer did Marlea seem the formidable matriarch who had raised Noelle almost single-handedly. Dear Grand-mère. The slightest upset these days could send her to bed for weeks. Noelle looked past her grandmother into the drizzle and watched the tall, dark man in a leather jacket and jeans lope toward the Martin’s private hangar.
“Garret...” The sight of him, a lonely, forlorn figure in the rain, touched some wellspring deep within Noelle. Her frown deepened as she told herself that any lingering feelings she had for him had to do with a weakness in her character she was determined to conquer. Nevertheless, her carry-on slowly slipped through her fingers onto the concrete.
Wade Martin and Beaumont Vincent, who’d come to see Noelle off, too, grew rigid when they saw him. Although her father was no taller than five feet eight, his bold black eyes were fiercer than his mother’s and the grim set of his large head and thick neck gave the impression of greater size and power.
Noelle had started toward Garret when she caught her father’s warning glance and Beau’s scowl. Her grandmother was looking pale and shriveled all of a sudden as if the mere sight of Garret was too much for her. For some idiotic reason, Noelle felt pulled in two directions.
The older woman’s alarm frightened Noelle, who was too aware of her grandmother’s precarious health.
“Grand-mère! Papa! Let me talk to him. You don’t have to say anything, any of you.”
“Stay away from him,” Wade commanded. “Your grandmother isn’t well.”
“I’m not a child.” Noelle swallowed. “But no matter what any of you think, Garret Cagan isn’t a bad man.”
At this rebellion Marlea took a stumbling step and nearly fell when she dropped her cane.
Noelle rushed to her side. After steadying her grandmother, she knelt and picked the cane up and put it into her grandmother’s shaking fingers. “Try to understand,” Noelle said, gently stroking the thin, age-spotted hand. “He won’t go unless I speak to him.”
Without waiting for her family’s approval, she ran out into the rain.
Garret stopped when he saw her. He’d been filled with anger, despair and utter hopelessness until he caught sight of Noelle running toward him.
The wind blew her hair, and fiery tendrils flew against her brow and flushed her cheeks. Her lush breasts heaved gently beneath her tight, mint-green sweater. Cashmere, he imagined. Her wool skirt was the same color. A chic gold necklace was knotted at her throat. There was more gold at her wrists, but not too much. Behind her the wind was whipping up whitecaps on the surface of Lake Pontchartrain.
Noelle stopped, hesitating before she reached him, devouring him with her eyes. He had no idea what she was feeling, but he felt the blood rush to his face. For him, she was like a sexual magnet. It didn’t matter that her family was watching him with dark disdain. It didn’t matter what she’d done. If only he could have her again. Dear God. He was lost.
Maybe he had a tough exterior, but on the inside, when it came to her, he was made of gooey mush.
He smiled warily, wishing things could be different, and that Noelle would come flying into his arms. He wanted to press her close, to never let her go. Instead Garret hesitated, feeling awkward as he grew increasingly aware of her frowning at him while her family stood behind her like stiff sentinels in the shadowy hangar.
Garret remembered that long night in the hospital when Noelle had nearly died. Unable to endure his presence, the Martins had sat in the waiting room together while he’d paced at the far end of the hall. They’d blamed him for everything. Not that he hadn’t blamed himself as he’d waited during that hellish time to find out whether Noelle would live or die.
The wind was blowing Noelle’s hair and dampening her green wool sweater. She was so beautiful he was transfixed.
Thank God she’d lived.
“Hey,” Garret said after he finally found his voice. “Let’s get you out of the rain.”
When she nodded awkwardly, he took her hand and led her back into the hangar.
Her family viewed him the way they always did—as though they were superior beings and he were an especia
lly grotesque member of an inferior, much-despised species. In the past Garret would have tensed and treated them with the same silent contempt they showed him. But today, even though they put him on edge, he reminded himself they were her family and forced himself to speak politely, meeting their eyes, smiling. He went to the regal old lady in black and took her thin, palsied hand, holding it for a long moment as if to impart some of his strength to her.
“You’re looking well, Mrs. Martin. Better than when I last saw you. I’m glad,” Garret said. “I always blamed myself for everything that happened.”
Just for a second he thought he felt her cling to his fingers before she remembered herself and abruptly pulled it free of his grasp.
“As well you should, Garret Cagan,” Marlea rasped.
Garret offered his hand to Beaumont and Wade. For an endless moment he towered over the two men, his hand suspended in the air. When Garret realized they weren’t going to take it, he smiled and dropped his hand.
The Martins sensed a change, and they felt ill at ease. All except Eva and Mama.
“It’s nice your detective came to see you off, no, chere,” Bibi exclaimed, stirring the pot of drama.
The senator’s glare at his incorrigible wife held the same quiet embarrassment his mother’s did, but Bibi ignored her mother-in-law and laughed lightly at her husband.
“Thank you, Mama. But he’s not my detective. And he certainly didn’t come to see me off.”
“I should hope not,” Beaumont spat as if thunderstruck.
Eva stepped out of the plane and waved warmly at Garret.
“Noelle, the pilot is ready for departure,” Wade said coldly. “Cagan, I warned you two years ago to stay away from my daughter. Though I allowed you into my house the other night, it was as a detective, not as a suitor.”
“Papa!”
Garret ground his teeth together. He could feel a muscle ticking furiously at his jawline as he turned to Noelle. His tone was cool but polite. “We’ll just be a minute, sir. I need to talk to Noelle. It’s official police business.”
“Official police business, like hell!” Beaumont stormed darkly. “Noelle, you don’t have to talk to him.”