He cursed softly. “We’ll see.”
Rebecca turned back around and grinned at Wade. “You promised Wade, Tag. You’re not going to cave on that, are you? I didn’t think you were the kind of guy who goes back on promises.”
“I’m not,” he said in a low voice. “I think it’s a safe bet to say your mouth is going to get your sweet butt a spanking one of these days.”
Her breath hitched and the low flame that Wade had kindled in her flared higher. “Is that a threat?”
Wade snapped to attention and a frown creased his forehead.
“Nope,” Tag replied. “That’s a promise.”
He hung up.
Rebecca stared at the phone then slowly lowered it to her side.
“Tag threatened you?” Wade asked.
She shook her head. “No, he—” What had he done? Flirted? “Never mind, it’s nothing.”
He didn’t look convinced but his doubt slowly eased to be replaced with the rise of desire again. Wade smoothed a hand over the sheets. “Your bed smells like you.”
She wrinkled her nose and tried to stay near the desk but the pull to join him on the mattress was strong. “That doesn’t sound appealing.”
The ebony wing of his brow lifted. His lush eyelashes drooped sensually. “Oh, but it is. Sweet, succulent oranges and cotton brushed with fresh air. Makes me want to taste you and bury myself in you at the same time.”
“Oh.” Her breath hitched and she took a step closer.
She was not a stranger to sex by any means but this instant and irresistible attraction threw her for a loop. During her college years she’d experimented with all sorts of sexual activities. Some she’d enjoyed and others she hadn’t.
She couldn’t recall ever having this sort of fire-hot need for anyone back then, though. Her gaze swept over the bed. She really wanted to join him.
Rebecca closed her eyes. I can’t. She had work to do, like gathering information on Tag’s case.
His image formed in her mind as full of life and attraction as Wade had projected from her bed. What had that last statement been all about? Had he just said he wanted to spank her?
Rebecca couldn’t help the pulse between her legs.
She’d dabbled in fetish play during those wild years and really enjoyed it. In fact, too many years had passed since she’d felt the sting of a man’s hand on her ass.
She gulped and imagined herself over Tag’s knee with her panties at her ankles and his big palm slapping her butt.
Her breath came in short gasps and she squeezed her thighs together.
Get a grip.
The silent admonition was useless a second later when her overactive brain tossed a naked Wade into the picture. While Tag spanked her ass, Wade fucked her mouth with his hard cock.
She moaned.
“Rebecca?”
Her eyes snapped open. Wade was standing in front of her again and concern covered his handsome features once more.
She reached out and touched his chest. Her gaze strayed to the bed then back to him. She managed a smile. “I’m okay,” she said. “Just, uh, thinking.”
The worry eased and a cocky grin lifted his mouth. “Oh? Must have been some interesting thinking.”
Oh Lord. Had she said something out loud?
“Why do you say that?”
His hand cupped her breast and his fingers clamped on her nipple. She arched into his touch.
“Because,” he whispered while exerting more pressure, “your nipples got so hard they nearly ripped through your pretty pink shirt. Care to share?”
She bit her lip and shook her head.
“That’s a shame,” he said. “Because I’m mighty interested.”
She could tell. His cock pressed so hard along the seam of his button-fly jeans she was surprised he hadn’t busted though. She was interested herself.
“I have to get to the Hex,” she said with regret. “But I’d appreciate your company.”
Disappointment crested his features but he nodded. “Sure.” He squeezed her breast again. “As long as I get a rain check on this?”
Rebecca nodded. “Absolutely. Now, I have to finish getting dressed.”
Wade still cupped her breast and he squeezed gently. “But I like you like this. You’re very soft and full. I love the weight of you in my palm. You fill it out so nicely.”
She gripped his wrist and tugged with a wink. “Thank you, Mr. Merritt. I kind of like them myself.”
She turned to the dresser and opened a drawer then drew out a lacy red bra. She dangled it on one finger and sauntered toward the bathroom. She snatched the hair dryer from the floor on her way. “I’ll just be a second.”
She stepped inside and partially shut the door.
“I have to admit you’re somewhat of a surprise,” Wade called.
Rebecca stripped off her pink T-shirt and fastened the bra around her waist before spinning it around. She bent over and settled her breasts into the molded cups then straightened. “Why is that?” She pulled her shirt on then down and checked to make sure the bra didn’t show.
It didn’t.
“I expected you to be all uptight and stiff. You know, upper crust blueblood snob and all that crap.”
Her fingers trembled as she pulled her hair into its customary ponytail. She opened the door and stepped out. “How do you know I’m not?”
Wade was sitting at her desk. He rose and swept her with an appreciative glance. “No woman who kisses as passionately as you do could be a snob.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks warmed and she flushed all the way to her toes. Her nose tingled and she cleared her throat. She reached around and grabbed her purse off the desk. “Thank you. My pleasure.” Was that the etiquette-correct response? It’d been years since she’d attended finishing school and she was pretty sure they hadn’t covered this sort of thing. She’d have to wing it.
Wade caught her shoulders and hauled her back into his arms for a gentle hug. “You’re my pleasure,” he said.
He released her before she could figure out how to respond.
“Shall we go?”
Rebecca nodded then locked the door and turned the handle to make sure it was properly closed. It was.
They headed down the hallway toward the staircase. “Wade?”
“Yep?”
“What are you doing here, anyway?”
They reached the bottom floor and walked to the exit leading to the parking lot.
“I was in the neighborhood and thought you might need a ride.”
Another flood of appreciative warmth zipped over her. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and tried to hide just how touched she was. This sort of thing rarely happened in Boston. At least, it never happened without some sort of strings being attached.
He led her to a red pickup truck. The thing was so high it had rails just for climbing in.
The metallic paint gleamed in the May sun. He opened the door and helped her up and inside then made sure she was properly seated before shutting the door.
Rebecca studied the inside of the cab as he climbed into the driver’s seat. It was as luxurious as her father’s Bentley. If not more so.
The seats were soft, buttery leather stitched with dark gray. The sleek dash was also a charcoal color and bore a navigation system, state-of-the-art audio, multiple USB ports, and Bluetooth capability.
He started the engine and it purred with the satisfaction of having an owner who took great pride in caring for it. Soft strains of ’80s rock poured from the surround sound system.
“Nice truck,” she said and meant it.
He grinned and smoothed a hand over the dash. His long fingers caressed the console like he’d caressed her earlier.
She squirmed in her seat.
“Thanks. I like it.”
He eased onto Pearson Street and headed for town. “The Hex?”
“Yes, please.”
“Got it.”
They rode in silence for a few
moments. She surreptitiously studied his strong profile as he drove. His jaw was clean shaven but she saw the darkening shadow of stubble already forming. She couldn’t help but wonder just how that stubble would feel scraping along her inner thighs.
She shifted again.
“Can’t get comfortable?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “I’m fine.”
Wade grinned. “Ah, more thinking.”
She chuckled but didn’t confirm. The man was eerily perceptive.
“My turn to ask you a question,” Wade said.
“Shoot.”
“Why did you scream when I knocked on the door?”
She twisted her ponytail and looked out the window. “I told you, I was being silly.”
“Rebecca.”
The firm authority in his tone made her sit up a bit straighter. She looked at him. “Yes?”
“Bullshit.”
Chapter Seven
“Any word from the FBI lab on those samples?” Tag asked Boone.
“Nope. I told you, when they come in, you’ll be one of the first to know.”
Boone sat at one of the empty desks in the sheriff’s office. He had his feet propped up on the edge and tossed a crumpled piece of paper up and down. “When does the hot deputy get here?”
“Leave her alone, Boone. She’s too good for you.”
“I’m crushed.”
Tag grinned and snagged the paper out of the air and tossed it into the metal trash can with a rimroll. “She’d crush you. I’m just trying to save your sorry ass.”
“Uh-huh.” Boone slid his feet back to the floor and stretched.
Tag envied his loose-limbed calmness. The tall Native American looked fresh and relaxed. As usual he had his long, raven black hair in a ponytail that hit him midback. His deep-indigo eyes held both humor and keen intelligence. He wore his expertly tailored suit with ease and comfort. If he hadn’t known of Boone’s past, he would believe the man stepped straight from the same high society Rebecca hailed from.
“Why don’t they make you cut that?” he asked and waved at Boone’s hair.
The man didn’t blink at the random question. “It’s part of my contract. I claim it as religious heritage.”
Tag chuckled. “You never change.”
Boone spread his hands. “Why mess with perfection?”
Before he could form a retort, the office phone rang. Since Doreen was still out on her vacation, Tag answered.
“Sheriff Cain.”
The line hummed with a bit of static then an efficient female voice sounded down the line. “Sheriff, please hold for Colonel Silas Reed.”
“Reed?” Tag asked in surprise. He motioned toward Boone then cupped a hand over the receiver. “Pick up the other line. It’s Colonel Reed.”
Boone lifted a brow and the phone at the same time.
“Cain?” Colonel Reed’s voice barked through the line.
Tag immediately snapped to attention. “Yes, sir, Colonel.”
A warm chuckle filtered to him. “Can the formality,” he said. “Heard you’re in a spot of trouble.”
“Bad news travels fast,” Tag said drily. He shared a puzzled look with Boone. “How did you hear, sir?”
“I have my sources.”
A loud rumbling report echoed on the phone line and the colonel cursed like a sailor who couldn’t find his land legs. Tag thought the noise sounded suspiciously like mortar fire.
“Where are you?” Tag asked.
“Classified,” Reed replied.
Of course. Definitely means he is in a hot zone.
“Listen, Cain. I called to offer my help.”
Tag gripped the butt of his gun and drummed his fingers on the stock. “What sort of help?"
“Anything you need. Give me a quick sit-rep and I can get you the best help available.”
The offer warmed him and Tag felt a flush creep up his neck. He avoided looking at Boone who still listened in. “I haven’t been charged with anything, sir.”
“Good news.”
Another boom sounded in the distance. A cold sweat formed on Tag’s upper lip and he scrubbed the moisture away.
“What kind of evidence have they found, Cain? Blood, prints, DNA, technology, fibers, that sort of stuff? Whatever it is, I have experts in all those fields. We’ll make short work of it and prove your innocence beyond a doubt.”
“Sir?” Boone’s voice snapped over the line.
Tag whirled to look at him and frowned.
“Who’s that?”
“Boone Shepherd.”
“Shepherd.” The older man’s voice shifted and became brusque. “Heard you were in town to investigate that ruckus with Martinez. You’re making me proud with the Feds, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, Colonel, but Sheriff Cain can’t give you any information or evidence, but the offer is much appreciated.”
“Ah, you’ve taken over the case. I see. Okay. I understand. Know all about chain of command and territory when it comes to this stuff. But the offer still stands if you need it. I’ve got a crack group of computer forensics guys on my staff here. A specialist in blood spatter and tissue evidence, too.”
“Colonel, what have you heard?” Tag asked. He glared at Boone and motioned for him to put the receiver down.
The jerk just shook his head and tucked the phone between his chin and shoulder before crossing his arms. He looked like he was settling in for a long chat with his grandmother or something.
“Not much. Heard Fischer was behind the attack on Martinez.” Sorrow coated the man’s voice. “Damn shame, that one. He was a good man. I also know he was killed in your jail cell and that you’re suspected in the killing. It’s why I called to help.”
“Colonel, I must ask how you found out,” Boone said.
A rusty chuckle rattled over the line and was obliterated by a much louder boom. The laughter turned to choking and coughing.
“Colonel Reed?” Tag yelled. “Are you all right?”
“That one was too damn close. We have to bug. If either of you change your mind on that help, have Martinez get in touch with me. She knows how.”
The line went dead.
Tag carefully replaced his receiver. He looked at Boone, whose face was indecipherable as usual. The lack of expression immediately put him on the defensive. “He was just calling to help. You heard him.”
Boone shrugged as he walked toward him. He hitched his hip against Tag’s desk and nodded. “The Colonel always was an odd bird. Especially if he thought Fischer was a good man. Good to know you’ve got someone in your corner with that kind of power, though.”
Tag relaxed. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“Don’t worry about it. I know you’re under some stress. I just wish the damned lab would call already.”
The phone rang again. They both looked down then at each other.
Tag snatched up the phone. “Sheriff Cain.”
“May I speak with Agent Shepherd?” The male voice was bland but professional.
Tag thrust the black handled receiver out. “It’s for you.”
Boone took the phone. “Shepherd.”
Tag could hear the murmur of conversation from the other end but couldn’t make out a word the man said. Nor could he interpret anything from Boone’s expression. Once the black eyes flicked up and locked on him but they gave nothing away. Finally he ended the call.
“They were able to pinpoint some foreign DNA from the blood on the bed. They’re running it through CODIS now.”
“Have they compared it to mine?” Tag demanded. “I’m ready for a definitive answer here.”
Boone grinned. “You don’t know if you’re guilty or not?”
Tag shoved him lightly. “Well?”
“Those results aren’t back yet. It takes a little time. Be patient, Tag.”
“As y’all are so fond of telling me, that isn’t a virtue I’ve ever cultivated.”
Boone clapped him on the shoulder. �
�My grandfather always told me great anger is more destructive than the sword. You have contained the anger you once held. Now, you must work on your waiting skills.”
“Why?” he demanded. “Impatience gets me so much more.”
The front office door opened and Deputy Carson walked in. She stilled as she studied them. Then a wide smile lifted her generous lips. “Am I interrupting something, gentlemen?”
Boone’s hand dropped and he shunted away faster than a quarterback chased by a lineman. Tag grinned back at him. “Just a tender moment between friends,” he said.
Boone’s eyes widened and he choked. “Cain, what the hell?”
Tag sauntered to his office and grabbed his sheriff’s hat from the rack. “Don’t worry about the Deputy here, Boone. She’s seen a lot in her day. A few Native American peccadilloes aren’t going to scare her away.” He checked his watch. Twelve fifteen. “I’m heading out to lunch with Wade and Rebecca. Carson, if you need anything, radio me.”
“Roger,” she said. She was still grinning as she walked past Boone and dropped to one of the desks. “Sheriff, have you hired anyone yet?”
Tag groaned and rotated the hat in his fingers. “No.” The process of filling Deputy Wallace’s desk with someone new was heart-rending. In the days since his death, no one had touched his workspace or his locker. His wife couldn’t bear to come to the station to see to his personal items and neither Tag nor Doreen had the stomach for it either. He knew he was going to have to take care of it sooner or later. As far as he was concerned, later worked for him.
Carson frowned up at him. “I know I’m probably out of bounds, Sheriff, but I have a suggestion.”
His head snapped up. “I’m all ears, Deputy.”
The sharp planes of her cheeks darkened with a flush he found unusual and charming. Apparently Boone did too because he lurched forward with dark eyes intent on the deputy.
“Well, sir, how about you hire me full-time? I’m basically doing the job anyway.”
Tag frowned. “While it would make me grin to shaft Sheriff Cranshaw, wouldn’t you be giving up a lot of seniority over there?”
She snorted. “That man would rather give up beer for a year than promote a woman past deputy.” Her blush brightened and she cleared her throat. “That’s just my unofficial opinion, of course.”
Her Heart-Stealing Cowboys [Hellfire Ranch 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 10