Even in shadow-tinted moonlight, she could tell he looked confused. “Whoa. Back up. I love you, too, gorgeous, but somewhere along the line, I think we crossed wires. I asked you to make love—and a baby—not to get hitched. I already told you, what happened with Angela showed me a lot. I let her down, her parents, the Marshals Service. You deserve a great life, Charity, starting with a guy a helluva lot better than me.”
“That’s a cop-out.”
“What?” Even in the shadowy light, she could see his expression was one of quiet fury.
“I think your problem is that losing Angela hurt. Not just your heart, but pride. I think you just don’t want to put yourself through that again.”
“Hell, yes, I’m hurt. Who wouldn’t be? She died in my arms. Do you have any idea what that was like?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Convenient how you forget other people have painful pasts, too, Adam. I might’ve just been a kid, but standing in that sterile hospital room, watching my brother drag his last breaths, watching my mother shriek and shake and completely fall apart, watching my dad just stand there, telling Craig to ‘Hold on, son, you’ll be fine’—you think that was fun?”
“You’re twisting my words.”
And you’re twisting my heart!
Adam had no idea how much he was hurting her right now. The pain in her chest was both crushing and sharp. How could she have been so stupid as to just blurt out all of that? About how much she loved him, and how she’d been waiting for him to return that love for so long. Of course, he hadn’t been asking her to marry him. How could she have been such a dolt?
He was back to holding her hands, but she pushed him away, shoved her feet into her lightweight hiking boots, then opened her door and jumped into the cold, damp night.
Adam didn’t want her. Just a quick roll on the bottom bunk.
Fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice, shame on me.
Only what Charity currently felt wasn’t so much shame, as fury.
Chapter Nine
“Bug—Charity—wait!” Adam shouted after her. But Charity slammed the SUV door on him and his words. Running, running until there were footsteps chasing her and Adam was pulling her to a stop, dragging her sobbing into his arms.
It was mortifying for him to see her like this. Vulnerable. Emotionally naked. She had no more secrets. Her every card lay on the table.
“I’m an ass,” he said into her hair, his words spilling in a warm cloud she wanted to wrap herself in, blocking out the cold reality of loving him. “Yes, we’ve both been dealt crappy blows. And you have to believe I truly love you. I just—”
“No,” she said, sniffling, wiping her runny nose. “I went into this with my eyes open. You’ve never been anything but honest with me where Angela’s concerned.”
At that moment Adam might as well have been shot just as his first love had been, for surely a bullet couldn’t hurt as bad as seeing this woman he loved sobbing her heart out. He did love Charity.
But because of Angela’s death, he was forever cursed. There was a black mark on his soul. If he’d never fallen so hard for her, maybe his life would’ve turned out differently. Maybe he’d be with her now.
Only the really sick thing was, he didn’t want to be with Angela—he wanted to be with Charity. To hold her like this forever. Kiss her till she quit crying, then make love to her until dawn. He wanted to go out and buy her the biggest, gaudiest engagement ring his meager savings could afford, then marry her in a giant wedding with all of their friends and family standing by. After that, he’d take her on a honeymoon and start on that baby she wanted. And he’d be a dad. A damned good dad. A damned good husband and provider. Working night and day if that’s what it took to make his little family comfortable and happy and—He abruptly released Bug to scrub his face with his hands.
What was he doing?
Blaspheming Angela’s memory this way. She’d loved him and trusted him and he’d let her down. And right now, in wanting to be with another woman, he was doing it again. More unforgivable was the chance that if he gave in to this insanity, he’d only end up letting Charity down, as well.
Yeah, his conscience interjected, but his brother-in-law, Joe, had been married before Gillian. Adam had never viewed him as any lesser man because of having found a second shot at love. But Joe’s first wife’s death hadn’t been his fault. He hadn’t been there, holding her in his arms when she’d died, thinking that if only he’d turned six inches to his right, the assassin’s bullet would’ve hit him.
“What’re you thinking?” Bug asked.
“Long story.”
“I am sorry about blurting all that, Adam. I never meant to put you on the spot.”
“I know.” He pulled her deeper into his arms. “And I never should’ve said all that about us having a kid. I mean, yeah, sure, we could go that route, but us not being an official couple—it’d be confusing for the baby.” Not to mention the grown-ups.
“Sure,” she said, her voice small and muffled against his chest. “I understand.”
Hand beneath her chin, he tipped her head up. “Do you? Really? Because I’m afraid you’re going to take this personally. Just because I have issues, doesn’t mean that if I didn’t, I wouldn’t marry you in a heartbeat. You’re a really great girl. The best. In fact, I—”
“Stop,” she said. “All the explanations in the world aren’t going to make things better between us.” She released a sharp laugh. “And what the hell? Now that you know all my secrets, you might as well know one more.”
“What?”
“That I think you’re a coward, Adam Logue. I think if you were half the man I’ve built you up to be, you’d march down to that shrink and demand she stop pussyfooting around and get to the crux of your problem.”
“If it’d be that simple, don’t you think I’d have already tried?”
“No. Because it is that simple. Only it’s easier to keep sticking your head in the sand, pretending we’re just friends to alleviate your guilt over the fact that in every way but the fun ones—like sleeping together and waking up in each other’s arms—we practically are married. You’re at my condo most every night of the week. We share most every meal. We watch the same TV shows.”
“Because we’re friends and—”
“Shh!” she said, tugging his arm. “Get down.”
“What’s wrong?” he whispered.
“See that light over there?” She pointed to the faint glow of headlights through the trees.
“Where’s your radio?” he asked.
“In the car.”
“Mine, too. Come on.” He took her hand for the short run back to the SUV. Once inside, Adam tried to contact Caleb or Beau—or for that matter, any member of their team. But as usual with this case, no one responded.
Hand on her door latch, Bug said, “Stay here. I’ll run back to the cabin to let the guys know they have company.”
“Good call. Be careful.” He caught her stare for a split second longer than was probably necessary. But at the moment, though it went against every oath he’d taken when joining the Marshals Service, he found himself caring more about Bug’s safety than the judge’s or even his own.
“You, too,” she said.
The suspect vehicle steadily came closer, and Adam secured his bulletproof vest, then reached for his gun and a spotlight. Adrenaline pumping, from his vantage in the center of the dirt road, he soon made out a late-model Ford pickup.
Upon seeing him, the vehicle’s driver stopped, leaned out the open window. “Hey, there! Need a hand?”
“No, thank you,” Adam said, flashing his silver star. “I’m here on government business. Mind telling me what brings you out here in the middle of the night?”
“Goin’fishin’,” the balding, elderly man said. “This is the public access road to Big Bear Lake, isn’t it?”
“No, sir. I’m afraid you made a wrong turn about five miles back. This is a private road.�
��
“Oh,” the man said with seemingly genuine surprise. “Sorry to be of trouble. I’ll just head the other way.”
“Thank you, sir. Hope you catch some big ones.”
“Me, too.”
Adam flinched when the guy reached for something, but relaxed to see it was only a thermos mug filled with coffee. He knew, because the smell had him craving a cup. Along with an entire coffee cake.
A few minutes later all that remained of the fisherman’s visit was lingering dust.
Not a good thing, considering that once again Adam was left with nothing to do but feel lousy over the way things had gone down with Bug.
Speaking of which, she headed toward him, the soles of her boots crunching gravel.
“You’re not going to believe this,” she said.
He groaned. “What now?”
“I caught every one of those guys napping. The only one up was your dad.”
“My dad? What’s he doing here?”
“Wanna take a stab at what he was doing?”
Adam raised his eyebrows. “Raiding the fridge?”
She shook her head. “Talking on his cell. You win a trip to Disneyland if you guess who he was talking with.”
“Franks?”
She laughed. “Victoria. Allie’s mother.”
“As in, Caleb’s wife’s mother?”
“Ding, ding, ding.” She’d reached him and stood with her hands on her hips. “Who was our guest?”
“Lost fisherman.”
“Something’s not right here.”
“Want me to call Franks?”
“No, I think someone like Gillian might have more answers.”
“Huh?” He wrinkled his nose. “What’s my sister going to know about any of this?”
“Humor me,” Bug said, and reached for her phone.
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER Charity slammed her phone shut, then couldn’t decide if she was furious, humiliated or both.
“Well?” Adam asked. “She tell you anything?”
“More like everything. Can you believe this whole setup is a scam?”
“Huh?” He scratched his head.
“Your father and Franks cooked this up. Apparently they think we make a cute couple, and thought all we needed for nature to take its course was for us to spend a lot of late-night time alone.”
“But we’re supposed to be on duty. And why is Suck-up Sam here? Everyone knows the guy has the hots for you and he makes my teeth hurt just looking at him.”
“Maybe they’re really trying to fix me up with him?” she asked, finding it oddly liberating that Adam finally knew the way she felt.
“Don’t go there,” he said, fury in his every step as he marched toward the judge’s cabin.
“Oh,” she said, falling into step behind him. “So you won’t have me, but no other man can, either?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Just, please, don’t go out with that guy. It’d kill me.”
“What do you think it did to me?” Charity said. “Hearing all about your big night on the town with a Puerto Rican swimsuit model?”
“Touché.” He stopped, slipped his hands around her waist and kissed her hard, dizzying her with need and wanting for more than drive-by kisses and endless teasing talk. “I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”
“Okay, stop,” she said, palms on his chest, pushing him away. “One minute, you’re practically calling me your property, and the next, you’re telling me—”
It was hard to speak, let alone think when he was kissing her again. This time, incredibly soft and sweet and gentle with a sweep of his tongue that made her knees weak and stomach tipsy. When he stopped for air, he rested his forehead against hers. Sighed. “I can’t promise you anything, Charity, but if you’ll bear with me…I don’t know, maybe I can try.”
“Try what?” she asked, hardly hearing her words over her runaway pulse. “Admitting what we share already goes beyond mere friendship?”
Pads of his thumbs over her lips, he nodded. His warm breath fanned her mouth and nose, and she drank him in. His smell and flavor. Root beer. And Adam, all Adam. “I do love you,” he said. “But I don’t know if that’s enough. I’m sick inside, and I—” His words caught in his throat and her heart went out to him, wishing she hadn’t caused him to have to face his demoned past, yet in the same breath knowing if he didn’t, there’d never be a shot at the two of them ending up together.
“Shh…” she murmured, lips cautiously against his. “I think we’ve both said enough for tonight.”
“Then what do you want to do?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” she said with a wide grin. “It doesn’t involve going anywhere near the judge’s cabin.”
“I NEVER THOUGHT our first time would be on a bunk bed,” Adam said, fingers fumbling with Charity’s bra clasp.
“So then you’ve thought about us doing this sort of thing?” she asked. “Before now? And that time we drank too much wine with my lousy dinner?”
“Morning, noon and night,” he said, finally freeing her breasts, exposing them to the cold night air, then to his hot moist tongue. He suckled her slow and hard and with enough rhythm to leave her knowing the best was yet to come. “And your dinner wasn’t that bad.”
Moaning and squirming beneath him, she slid her fingers into his hair, tugging, toying with the dark waves she’d so many times ached to explore. “Yes…it was.”
“Nope…” He dragged his kisses to her throat, and she arched her neck, granting him greater access while she skimmed her hands along shoulders even broader than she’d dreamed. “It wasn’t…You and your cooking are beautiful.” He hovered above her for a moment, then leaned onto his side, smoothing her hair back from her face. “I didn’t come prepared. That all right?”
Seeing how Charity wanted nothing more than to have this man’s baby, and knowing he’d been safe with the few dates there’d been since Angela, she nodded.
“Wait,” she said.
“What?”
“Before we do this, I have to know you’re with me. I mean, really with me. Here and here…” She touched his forehead then chest.
Sitting back, he pressed her hand over his heart. It pounded beneath her palm. “What do you think? God, Charity, for the first time since—you know—I feel alive. And you did that.” He kissed her forehead, then lips. “Sweet, beautiful, entirely too patient, you.”
Grinning, scarcely able to contain the joy in her heart, she said, “That’s all I needed to know. Please, feel free to proceed.”
“Slow or fast?”
“Both.”
“Mmm…” he teased, nipping at her earlobe. “I like your style.”
From then on, there was no talking, just feeling. Shedding jeans and panties and boxers, they kissed and explored—sometimes fast, sometimes slow—Charity felt so exquisitely right, there were tears in her eyes.
And when she felt as if she’d die without having more of him, she steered him in the right direction, and as ready as he’d made her, with one, glorious thrust, he glided right in, gentle. But she raised her knees, urging him deeper, desperate to quench her thirst. She loved him. Loved him with every breath in her body.
Digging her fingers into his back, she cried out for him, and he for her, and when the dark storm behind her closed eyes turned white and he shuddered atop her, then rested his head between her breasts, she stroked his hair. Petting him. Adoring him. Telling herself over and over that even though he’d told her he wasn’t capable of making her a lifetime promise, that no matter what his mouth said, his heart would soon say something else. Something involving a wedding and rings and undying, earth-shattering love.
“HEY, WHOA—OH!” Caleb called Saturday morning on his way into what was supposed to have been the security team’s cabin. Kudos had to go out to his dad. From its inception, Caleb would’ve bet big there was no way this
nutty plan to finally get his brother to admit to loving Charity was going to work, but judging by the two buck-naked marshals he’d just walked in on, mission accomplished. “I thought you two were on duty.”
Call him twisted, but Caleb had always loved seeing folks squirm, and Charity and Adam were especially comical scrambling for quilts from where they’d lain on blankets in front of the now-cold stone hearth.
“You could’ve knocked,” Adam said.
“Yeah, but aren’t you two supposed to be guarding the road?”
“Like you’ve been guarding the judge?” Charity asked, quilt up to her neck, eyebrows raised, hair thoroughly mussed. “We’re on to to you, Caleb. Gillian spilled your whole dirty scheme.”
“No way.”
She nodded. “Yes, way.”
“That’s it,” Caleb said. “For having such a big mouth, she’s off my Christmas list.”
“This was low,” Adam said. “Even for you.”
“Hey…” Hand to his chest, playing innocent, Caleb said, “It was Dad’s idea. I just rode along for the beer and poker.”
“And where’d you get the judge?”
“He’s an old college buddy of Dad’s. Good sport for letting us use his cabins.”
Adam threw a pillow at him, but missed.
“So?” Caleb asked. “Ready to set a date?”
“For what?” Adam asked.
“A wedding, you big dope. What’d you think? You just deflowered the poor girl. The least you could do now is make her an honest woman.”
“Ah, I was already deflowered,” Charity said, rising, a quilt wrapped sarong-style around her. “Prom night. Hugh Barnes.”
“You never told me that,” Adam said. He rose, too, with a quilt around his waist.
“You never asked,” she retorted just before locking herself in the bathroom.
“You’re marrying her,” Caleb rumbled under his breath. “And that’s final.”
To Catch A Husband (U.S. Marshals, Born And Bred Book 4) Page 10