The Keeper

by Quinn, Jane Leopold

  He closed his hand around her elbow and steered her out the door. "Let's go over there." He pointed across River Road to the park and led her to a bench. "Share, I wanted to tell you before you started hearing about it from other people."

  "Are you all right?" He was developing a black eye, with the bruise coming from under the bandage.

  He gripped both her hands and said, "I was shot."

  "Holy God." Her heart thudded heavily. She clutched at him. He was steady. She was not. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but he wouldn't let go of her hands. "Pete, what happened?"

  "I'm all right. Just a bit of a headache, obviously," he replied in a husky voice, not quite as steady as he pretended.

  "Pete, what happened?" she repeated.

  ***

  In as dispassionate a voice as he could muster, Pete related the events of the past few hours. He'd never been shot before, not even shot at. He was pretty spooked by the incident, but he didn't want Sharon to worry.

  "Nickie was kidnapped this morning."

  "My God, is she all right?"

  "Yes. She was shaken up and has some cuts and bruises, but other than that, she's okay."

  "Does Hank know?"

  "Yeah. He's okay. Physically."

  "Were you the only one shot?"

  "No." He absently rubbed the bandage on his forehead and winced. She caressed him, her palm cupping the side of his face. Her expression almost broke his self-possession. "I'm really all right. The bullet just grazed my temple."

  "But you're cut." She gently rubbed a thumb at the corner of his eye.

  "Glass."

  "Pete, just tell me how it happened." She bit nervously at her lower lip.

  "It's such a crazy story." He set his jaw and took her hands again. "An anonymous call came in to dispatch that Nickie had been kidnapped and was being held for ransom. Hank and I got to her house and started a search. Grant Carey showed up."

  "Grant? Why was he there?"

  "He said he'd heard the call on his scanner. We searched the house, heard Dog barking from the basement. When Hank opened the door, Dog raced outside and attacked Grant. Hank pulled the dog off, who then took off out of the yard. Then he came back. It was like he was Lassie giving us a message to follow him." Pete slowly shook his head. "I guess the homeless pooch Hank adopted was worth his weight after all."

  "Why'd he attack Grant?"

  "You'll see. We followed Dog to Grant's trailer."

  "Oh, no." Her mouth formed an O of surprise.

  "Yeah. Grant had kidnapped her and tied her up in his trailer."

  "How did you get shot?"

  "Hank was inside negotiating with Grant. I was going to take a shot at him through the window. He spotted me and shot out the glass."

  "And Grant?"

  "I got a shot off. He's in serious but stable condition."

  "You were the only one beside him who was injured?"

  "Yeah. Like I said, Nickie has cuts and bruises, but she'll be okay."

  Sharon looked stunned. And scared. Maybe being the girlfriend of a cop was too much for her. Not every woman could take the worry of it. He didn't want to lose her. Not over this. Not over anything. He'd been holding his breath while Hank dated her, waiting and watching, knowing Hank's girlfriends never lasted. He wanted to be there to pick up the pieces.

  Sharon was his now, and he intended to keep her. "I'm fine, Share. It wasn't serious. I just have a slight headache." He brushed a fingertip across the groove of her frown.

  "Did you have a CAT scan?"

  He smiled at her anxious question. "An X-ray was all I needed. Really, honey, I'm all right. It didn't even bleed much, it was so shallow."

  She took a shaky breath and sucked on her lower lip. Her gaze investigated every inch of his face.

  He slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. Her arms went around his waist, her fingers clutching the material of his shirt. He smiled as he cuddled her, nuzzling her hair and whispering soothing sounds. She cared about him, too. He didn't know if it was as much as he cared for her, but it was enough for now.

  ***

  Sharon drove out to Nickie's house after Pete and Hank's dad, Mark, left town. Hank had run from his feelings of guilt, believing Grant would never have hurt Nickie if their childhood history had been different. Hank and Grant's older brother had been best friends in high school, but when the brother died in a swimming accident, Hank suddenly left town. Grant felt abandoned and, after Hank returned from the military and college, he became jealous of anyone Hank was seriously involved with.

  "Let's have some coffee," Nickie suggested, interrupting her packing. They settled across from each other in the kitchen, steaming cups in hand and a plate of sliced pound cake in the center of the table.

  "Are you going back to Chicago for good?" Sharon asked.

  "No, actually I'm coming back in a week or two," Nickie said.

  "What if Pete and Mark can't find Hank, or he won't come back?"

  "You know," Nickie changed the subject. "I never meant for all this to happen between Hank and me. I didn't know until much later that you and he had been dating."

  Sharon waved her hand dismissively. "I always knew Hank and I weren't serious. Until you came along, he'd never been with anyone very long. It was obvious, almost from the beginning that he felt differently about you. More permanent."

  "But it must have looked like I rolled into town and… I'm sorry if you were hurt."

  "Honestly? I was at first, but Pete was there for me." Sharon couldn't help the smile quirking her lips. "In so many ways."

  "I'm glad," Nickie responded. "Pete's a nice man."

  "Yeah, very nice. I've never been with anyone like him."

  "He's protective of you."

  Sharon rested her elbows on the table and cradled the coffee cup between her palms. "He is protective and supportive. He even met my family and didn't run screaming into the night."

  Nickie laughed. "That's kind of a good sign, don't you think? Hank and my sister butted heads a little, but I think they'll get along."

  "Do you plan to come back to stay permanently?"

  Nickie nodded. "I'm in love with Hank. I think he cares for me, too, but he feels too much guilt right now about Grant and too much pain about his father. I'm hoping Mark and Pete can talk some sense into him and bring him home."

  "I'm sure he loves you."

  "I'm just going back to Chicago to get my winter clothes. Then I'll be back in Hank's life whether he wants it or not." Nickie laughed warily. "I'm sounding pretty confident, aren't I?"

  "Who knows anything for sure when a man's involved?"

  As the days passed, and Pete was still out of town looking for Hank, Sharon couldn't get that thought out of her mind. It had always been her pattern not to trust the men in her life. She had no basis for it, no history of trust. Was Pete any different? Yes.

  Had any other man comforted her with an embrace? Had she ever asked for it or even allowed it? No to both. Pete was different. He didn't ask leave to offer sympathy. Kindness and empathy were hard-wired into him. Oh, it would be so easy to surrender. Could she afford to risk her heart? He wasn't like any man she'd ever met. He was confident and strong without being cocky or overbearing, and he'd always treated her with respect and affection.

  She didn't know if she could risk getting closer to him, but she also didn't know if she could let him go. What if he was the one? Grant could have killed him. He could die in the line of duty any day. Her body shuddered in a frisson of fear for him.

  He had to come back. She wanted to see his face again. To know he was safe. At least that. They'd work out the relationship in good time. Just bring him home safely. That's all she asked.

  Chapter Nine

  Three months later

  "Hey, Share, you tired?" Pete gathered her close and dipped his hand from her waist to her hip, stroking over the curve of her bottom.

  She usually loved the way he touched her, but th
is time, she barely noticed the direction his hand had taken. The elevator doors opened onto a salmon-colored, marble-floored foyer and a mahogany half round table with an immense arrangement of flowers gracing the top.

  "Pete, what in the world did you do? Are you sure this is our room?" Blown away by the splendor, she absently fingered a petal, sniffing the fragrance appreciatively. The flowers were real. The room, she glimpsed through the arched entryway was as stunningly beautiful as the ones in the pages of an expensive home décor magazine.

  "Suite."

  "Uh, yeah, sweet. And huge." She angled her head for a glimpse into the living room.

  "Suite. It's not a room, it's a suite." He sounded rather pleased with himself.

  She'd seen him slip the key card into a slot in the elevator, but it really hadn't registered in her brain. Hank and Nickie's wedding preparations and the drive to Chicago from Parkersburg happened in a flurry of excitement. Being here with Pete was wonderful and scary at the same time. She'd fallen hard for him. Did he feel the same?

  "It's ours. Do you like it?"

  "Like it? What's not to like, except the fear they're going to come up and throw us out."

  "You saw me use the key card. It's no mistake," he replied good naturedly, tightening his arm around her.

  "It's amazing, that's what it is," she sighed. He ushered her through the entry hall and into the living room. A highly polished, cherry wood floor was the perfect foil for pristine white-on-white couches and jewel-toned chairs resting on faded antique Oriental rugs. It was so lovely. All she could do was shake her head in admiration.

  "You all right, honey?" His wide palm comfortably cupped her hip.

  "Yeah, I'm okay." Nestling against his sheltering heat, she ordered herself to get control and not act like a country idiot seeing her first hotel suite. Even if she was, and it was, she didn't have to advertise her hick-ness.

  "Well, I want everything to be perfect for you," he murmured, turning her to face him. His white smile was teasing, and his golden-green eyes sparkled with mischief.

  Smiling at him, she thought, for the millionth time, how good looking he was. Classic features: strong jaw, straight teeth, vertical slash of a nose, black hair perpetually unkempt because he always ran his fingers through it. Who would have imagined, in her job as a dental assistant that cleaning the teeth of her boyfriend would be a turn on?

  When he opened his mouth and she slipped in the saliva ejector, and even when she ordered him to spit, she had to keep her mind firmly on business. It was a testament to his innate sensuousness. Or her deeply-seated weakness. She tried not to roll her eyes at that notion.

  "It is October, and it is Michigan Avenue. The wind was pretty fierce out there."

  "No, I'm fine," she repeated. Move on, Share. Get a grip and start acting as if you know what you're doing. She missed the heat of him when he left her to open tall, louvered double doors leading into a palatial bedroom. She'd thought the living room was outstanding. It was obvious the bedroom was the money room. A king-size bed with four delicately carved posts shrouded with filmy, white draperies, dominated the room. That was all she had a chance to see before his arms slid around her waist. He stepped into her field of vision and turned her face toward him.

  "Share, are you sure you don't need something? Warming up? Me?" he murmured, his voice resonant with promise. His forefinger smoothed down the bridge of her nose and brushed over her lips to tap her chin twice.

  Just that delicate, sweet caress spun curls of heat through her body. He did this to her, made her feel safe and special. And scared the hell out of her with his intensity and sincerity. Her body warmed and instinctively melted further into his embrace, into a kiss, a sensuous, consuming onslaught of lips, teeth, and tongue.

  "Mmm." She loved when he kissed her, loved the brushing and massaging of sensitive lips, loved just closing her eyes and relaxing into the heat of his masculine body. It was like coming home. She could kiss this man for hours. He was good at it, too. He didn't rush things.

  She reveled in his toying and teasing. Even though he was always quickly aroused, his cock hard and throbbing, she loved that he still cared enough to take his time to arouse her to the very edge before tipping her over. There'd never been anyone like him in her life, and she didn't think there would ever be again. So, shoving her fear that this too shall pass down into the farthest depths of her heart, she advised herself to enjoy what she had at this moment.

  Tucking herself closely into the hard, muscular plane of his body, flattening her breasts against the softness of his suede blazer, she slid her arms around his waist and squeezed her fingers inside the back waistband of his jeans, stretching, reaching for his butt. She groaned at the flex of his hips, his rampant cock pressure-squeezed against her belly. Their sexual energies meshed so wonderfully, their desire for each other endless.

  He'd rescued her emotionally when Hank defected to Nickie, and physically when her father had shown up unexpectedly. They'd been together for a few months now, but sometimes she felt like such an inadequate mess she feared no one would ever truly care for her. The abandonment by her father when she was a child left a huge hole in her heart. Was Pete Rayne the man to fill that hole? Or would he come to his senses soon and run screaming from the chaos that was her life.

  Just enjoy the weekend. When she was with him, she forgot Hank's last name, forgot about every other man.

  He, as usual, looked scrumptious. In his thigh-hugging jeans and chocolate-colored blazer over a crisp pink—of all colors—dress shirt, you'd never know he was a sheriff's deputy in a small, hick county in Iowa. Very scrumptious, as a matter of fact.

  He nudged her with his body, edging her backward.

  "Wait a second, Pete." She giggled and placed a hand on the middle of his chest. "What time is it?"

  "It's about three, and, yes, we have time for this," he whispered as he persistently prodded her toward the bed.

  "When do we have to be there?" she asked in a breathy, uneven whisper, meaning the wedding rehearsal.

  "Seven." He nibbled along her jaw, down her neck.

  "And how long will it take to get there?" It was so difficult to concentrate on getting the information.

  "Nickie said ten minutes by cab, so ten minutes plus five to get to the lobby and get a cab, makes fifteen minutes. That means we leave at six forty-five. How long do you need to dress?" His heated breath tickled directly over her ear.

  "Oh, at least an hour."

  "How about forty-five minutes?" he teased, unbuttoning her blouse.

  He hadn't even touched her bare skin yet, and she was hot and aroused. "I don't know if that's enough."

  "Thirty."

  What'd he say? Thirty? His negotiating technique was exquisite. And shameless. "Forty," she groaned. They haggled like this all the time. She was amazed how quickly she'd learned to get ready, his mouth and his cock the perfect rewards for rushing the makeup.

  "I'll give you the forty-five since I'm such a good guy, so we have three hours. Are you hungry?"

  The switch in subject threw her for a second. "Kind of."

  "There should be a basket of goodies out in the living room."

  "I'm not that hungry. Come here." She pushed him down onto his back and began getting him out of his clothes, excited to have her way with him.

  Chapter Ten

  Pete awoke to an empty bed. Smiling contentedly, he stretched his long body to lie on propped up pillows on the four-poster. His girl, an expensive hotel suite, a long weekend, life didn't get any better than that.

  The sounds of the running shower tempted him, but they'd never get to the rehearsal if he joined her there. He cared too much about Hank to screw up any part of this wedding. Even though his partner had played the field, he'd been emotionally isolated until Nickie came along and turned him into a one-woman man. Pete couldn't be happier to see this wedding. Now he needed to accept the fact he, himself, was becoming domesticated. This weekend, he was going to confirm wh
ether Sharon felt the same.

  The shower stopped, and a towel-clad head peeked around the doorway. "Come on, slug," she teased. "Time to get duded up." Then she whisked back into the bathroom.

  She's right, damn it. He levered himself out of bed and sauntered into the steamy room.

  "Want some privacy before I start my makeup?"

  Did he ever. "Just a minute, okay?" The bathroom itself was immense—green marble counters, a black floor which must be heated because his toes were toasty, separate shower and giant tub. He had plans for that tub. Later.

  He showered and shaved at the second sink while she finished her hair. He had to remind himself to be careful with the razor, because his ogling was too distracting. Standing at the sink next to her, doing mundane tasks like getting ready to go out, felt so comfortable. Ho boy, am I whipped.

  "Fifteen minutes, pal." She tapped the counter to get his attention, a smug smile stealing across her features. In the mirror, he held her gaze for a long moment—promising things, sensuous things, before she strolled out. Hank. Hank and Nickie's wedding. He had to keep reminding himself why they were here.

  "Holy shit," he blurted when he came out of the bathroom a moment later. The dress she was zipping up lovingly hugged every one of her gorgeous curves.

  "Is this all right?" she asked, peering at herself in the mirror. "Is it too tight? Too low cut?" She tugged at the line of material across her breasts.

  He had to shake himself. As beautiful and stacked as she was, he had to remember she was uncomfortable with compliments, especially about her breasts. Unbelievable, but true. She was a girl who looked good in anything she wore, but put her in a sexy dress and stilettos, and she was breathtaking. He wasn't sure, though, why she didn't see it.

  "There's absolutely nothing wrong with that dress. You look beautiful, honey. Classy. Mouthwatering, as a matter of fact." He moved toward her as if being pulled by velvet ropes. Mm, now there's an idea. Tie her arms above her head and feast on her spectacular naked body. Later.

  The contrast in the mirror aroused him even more. His larger body, standing right behind her, dwarfed her petite, curvy one. "Jesus, you're making me hard just looking at you. I gotta back off, or we'll never get out of this room." He placed his hands lightly around her waist and winked at her reflection. "You're sure we have to go?"