by Maggie Price
“I took someone else’s name. Her identity. And I’ve hurt you. Those are the only things I’m sorry about. The only things I’ve done that I have to be sorry about. I’m not exactly in the position to ask a favor of you, but I have to.”
He kept his eyes locked on hers. “You going to ask me to let you go?”
“I might if I thought you wore your badge for amusement. You don’t. It’s part of who you are. And your releasing a wanted killer would be a little more than bending a rule.”
When he didn’t comment, she said, “When you turn me over to Chief Decker, you can have him keep your name out of the report. He can tell Creath he’d spent enough time at Truelove’s that he got curious about me or suspicious and ran my prints, something like that. You can go home to Oklahoma City and stay there until Creath takes me back to New Orleans.”
Her emotions were rocking now, making it difficult to continue holding on to her thready composure. “Josh, you can’t be here when Creath comes. He can’t know that you found out who I am. He’d wonder how an out-of-town cop on vacation got close enough to me to do that. He’d figure out…” She was shaking; tears streamed down her cheeks, but she was past caring. “Creath is twisted. The truth, the facts don’t matter, only what he perceives does. He’ll see you as a rival, the same way he saw Steven and Bobby. Leave, Josh. Please leave so he won’t know about you. Won’t…kill you.”
“Regan, don’t.”
“Promise me.” She choked on her tears as if Creath already had his hands around her throat. “It doesn’t…matter if you…believe me. Just promise…you’ll take me to jail then…leave Sundown. Just leave.”
“The hell with this.” Between one heartbeat and the next, Josh forgot the rules, forgot the consequences of breaking them. All he could see was her.
“Please, Josh.”
“Stop.” He moved beside her, dragged her onto his lap. “Stop now.”
“I’ll beg.” She gripped his shoulder with her free hand. “If that’s what it takes to get you to leave, I’ll beg.”
Any defense, any rational reason he may have had left quite simply crumbled. “Regan.”
“Promise.” With tears blurring her vision, she stared up at him. She didn’t question why he’d pulled her onto his lap, didn’t care. All she cared about was keeping him alive. “You have to leave Sundown before Creath gets here.”
“I’m staying.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You can’t—”
“I believe you.” His voice was thick, unsteady as his thumbs slicked across her cheeks to wipe away her tears.
She felt her heart kick hard as she stared up into his eyes that looked like polished onyx in the dim light. “You…believe me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“A mix of things.” He pulled a key from the pocket on his T-shirt, unlocked the cuff from her wrist. “Last year, I worked a case where a waitress was being harassed big-time by a trucker. All she did was smile at the guy and make a little conversation while serving him a piece of apple pie, and just like that he decided they were soul mates. I learned a lot about stalkers so I’ve got a good idea how they operate.” He smoothed her hair back from her temples. “And there’s the way you look and sound when you talk about Creath. About Steven and Bobby. Reactions like that can’t be faked. Then there’s me.”
Feeling utter disbelief, she gazed at him through wet, spiky lashes. “What…about you?”
“I always listen to what my gut tells me. And I’m good at knowing when I’m being lied to. You’re not lying.” He skimmed his fingertips down her cheek. His eyes softened, as did his voice. “You’ve got a caring heart, Regan. Otherwise you’d have left after the accident when people started asking questions about your past.”
“I was going to leave.”
“And then Etta got sick.” He pressed a palm against the side of her throat. “You chose to stay for her.”
“I couldn’t take off and let Doc Zink put her in the hospital. Etta needed me.”
“Seems she’s not the only one who needed you to stay in Sundown.” Josh slid one thumb down to the hollow of her throat, stroked her flesh. “I felt something, too, that night I walked into the tavern and saw you. I was curious because you were so skittish. Your eyes,” he murmured. “You had secrets in your eyes. But more than that, there was something about you that got to me in a way nothing or no one else ever has.” He pressed a kiss against her temple, her cheek. “I can’t shake it, Regan. I tried, but I can’t shake you.”
Even as she locked her arms around him, a dim voice inside Regan told her to pull away, reminding her nothing had changed. That no matter what had happened between them he would have no choice but to put her in jail. But that was the future. Here, now, she was too exhausted, too emotionally drained to fight off the wave of feelings that assaulted her. So, she pressed herself against the firm body that transmitted safety and, for the first time in over a year she felt no need to be on guard, no underlying compulsion to pack up and run. For the first time in so long she felt…normal.
She tilted her head back to look up at Josh, and all the misery, all the pain, all the bitterness she had carried with her for so long faded.
“I tried to stay away from you,” she said, her voice whisper soft. “Needed to. But I can’t shake you, either.”
“We’ve both got the same problem,” he said, then brought his mouth down to cover hers.
His lips were hard and demanding, his muscled arms like steel around her. She felt the rush of need, the hard, sharp-edged wave of it. Desires she’d ruthlessly buried broke the surface and heat flashed inside her where only ice had been.
Her system stuttered with pleasure, then roared into full raging life.
While they feasted on each other’s mouths, she burrowed against him, offering more. Straining for more.
He fisted one hand in her hair, angled her head back and plunged his tongue between her parted lips. His kiss transformed into something raw and primitive.
Her tongue played with his, her hands slid up to twine around his neck. Need was too great a force to resist, the future facing her too bleak. Here, in the middle of the dark lake, with only the moon and stars to witness, she could steep herself in blessed oblivion of her problems and be with the man she craved. This one man. This one night.
His mouth left hers to trail kisses along her jaw, then down the column of her throat, sending a shudder of pure longing through her. Lights seemed to dance behind her eyes. Her muscles, so stiff before, began to melt with the warmth of desire.
Heat poured through Josh, molten, liquid heat searing his veins, pooling in his groin. The scent of her was lemon and nerves, and he wanted her, had wanted her from the first, this woman with her alluring combination of fire and vulnerability. He wanted her in a way he hadn’t wanted any other woman—possessively, totally. He wanted her to be his in a way she had never been any other man’s. Dangerous thinking, the lone spark of logic remaining in his brain warned.
He would think later, he told himself. Figure out how to deal with all this after his blood cooled and his brain kicked in again. Right now, all that mattered was having her.
The low, humming moan that sounded in her throat fired his blood even hotter, blasting a charge of lust straight to his belly. With every cell in his body burning for her, he jerked off her tank top, tossed it aside, then unhooked her bra.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, gazing down at her small, firm breasts slicked with silver moonlight and shadows. He slipped his hand up around the back of her neck then leaned her back in his lap. One strong arm supported her while he closed his mouth on one nipple, suckled, then let his teeth close softly while his free hand skimmed over her.
Regan couldn’t make her breathing quiet, couldn’t stop her body from shuddering. Arching her back in delicious pleasure, she tangled her fingers in his hair, pressing him closer, giving herself over to her madly churning needs while he fed. Explored. The head
y combination of euphoria and pain had her half whimpering, half sighing. It had been so long, she thought dizzily, an eternity since she had felt anything this intensely. Wanted this passionately.
She moved restlessly beneath his hands, his mouth. Her flesh burned against his clever tongue while the soft wet pulse between her legs throbbed.
Her senses slashing one against the other in an edgy tangle of needs, Regan levered up on his lap and jerked at his T-shirt. “I want to feel you,” she breathed. “Need to feel you.”
He raised one arm and then the other so she could wrench his shirt off over his head. Her unsteady palms skimmed across his broad chest that was solid muscle. Winding one arm around his neck, she rubbed against him like a cat as her other hand slid down and fought the snap on his jeans.
Uttering a muffled groan, he scooped her up and stood. He released her legs but kept one arm around her upper body as the boat rocked against the movement. While she grabbed at his shoulders for balance he yanked down the zipper of her shorts, then peeled them off, along with her panties. He gazed down at her, his eyes glittering with hot need.
A thrill of dark pleasure rippled through her at that lethal spark in his eyes.
She was exquisite, Josh thought, drinking her in. Fine boned and angular, slender and sleek. Delicate.
“I want to touch you everywhere,” he murmured as he traced his fingers down her shoulders, her back, caressing, exploring every dip and curve.
“It feels like you are,” she managed as a thousand nerves sprang to life beneath his touch.
He tugged her against him, kissing her greedily, hungrily while he locked an arm around her waist. Pressed thigh to thigh, he let her feel his arousal, let her know how badly, how urgently he wanted her. Only her.
Her mouth tore from his and began a heady, intricate journey along his jaw, his neck as her fingers fumbled with the snap of his jeans, the zipper. When he felt her tongue dip into the hollow at the base of his throat, the flames of desire leaped, licking at his sanity. He slid his hand between their bodies, down the flat plain of her stomach, downward until he cupped her.
His chest tightened when he found her hot and wet, ready for him. Her body was vibrating against his like a string already plucked. It was tempting, knowing he could plunge himself into her and take them both into oblivion. But this time, this first time, he intended to sate her with pleasure until there was nothing and no one else but him in her universe.
He dragged the cushions off the benches, nesting them together at their feet, then he shucked the rest of his clothes. They dragged each other down onto the cushions, he sprawling beside her, wedging his hand between her legs.
When his fingers speared into her, Regan moaned, beyond thought, beyond everything but need. He murmured her name against her throat, his mouth savoring, exploiting, plundering while he made love to her with his hand, driving her toward the steep rise of desire.
Her heart lurched when the jarring explosion of pleasure shot through her. She sank into the climax, everything fading around her until the only focus of her existence was the intense pleasure.
“Josh…” His name was nothing more than a soft, throaty sob on the still night air, yet it beat in his blood like a primal chant.
Propped on one elbow, he gazed down at her, taking in the flush along her cheekbones, the glazed, sultry look in her eyes. The faint lemon tang of her soap mixed with the musky scent of her arousal. Every muscle in him quivered with the strain of holding himself back.
“Again,” he whispered through clenched teeth.
“No, I…”
He stroked his fingers deeper, then eased slowly out of her, opening her, stretching her. The sound she made seemed to claw up from her throat and was every bit as feral as the need that raged through him.
“Oh, God.” Her hips arched, urging him back into her.
“Again.” His breath sawed in and out of his lungs while he watched her ride the peak and a hungry, possessive tide rose through him, knotting his stomach, churning his already hot blood. Mine was all he could think as she writhed beneath his touch. Only mine. With that dark, powerful thought fueling him, he moved over her, levered her hips high and drove himself into her. To claim. To mate.
He hissed out a breath when her muscles clenched around him. Her nails scraped at his back while he nipped the side of her neck, murmured her name as they moved in sync, a quick piston of hips.
And when the explosion rocked him, he buried himself to the hilt, his consciousness dimming in the hot rush of fulfillment.
Chapter 12
Regan woke just as dawn began to light the sky. She was curled on her side with Josh a solid wall behind her, his legs tangled with hers. One of his arms was a heavy weight over her hip. His breath felt warm on her shoulder.
She stirred softly, having no idea how many times they’d made love, drifted to sleep, then made love again on the cushions positioned on the boat’s deck. Sometime during the night he retrieved a pair of beach towels, one of which was still partially draped over her. Except for that, and the occasional visit to the small, enclosed head compartment, they had remained in each other’s arms.
She lay quietly while the warm dawn air caressed her flesh, wishing she could slip back into sleep before her mind began to work.
But it was too late. Already she was thinking about the future, knowing that the freedom she’d been so terrified of losing would be gone by the end of this day. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again. She couldn’t bring herself to regret becoming Josh McCall’s lover, but already she felt the aching sense of what it meant to lose him.
Even though he believed Creath had killed Steven and Bobby and set her up to take the fall for Steven’s murder, that didn’t make the warrant for her arrest go away. Josh was a cop, he’d run her prints, she was sure there would be a record of that. He couldn’t just ignore the fact she was on the run from the law. He had to go by the book and turn her in to Chief Decker. And even if Josh tried to help prove her innocence, she knew too well how thorough Payne Creath was. No weak link would exist in the evidence he’d manufactured against her.
There was no way to sidestep Creath’s sick need for revenge. No way to prevent him from coming to Sundown. Coming for her.
Along with the fear that feathered up her spine, the determination she’d felt last night to obtain Josh’s promise to leave before Creath showed up returned with a vengeance. She would do whatever it took to keep Josh out of harm’s way.
Just then, his lips brushed the back of her neck, sending an altogether different kind of shiver up her spine.
“Morning,” he murmured.
“Morning.” She nuzzled against him, sighing. It had been so long since she’d awoken, held close by the man she loved. Loved, she thought, but could never have. His mouth skimmed her shoulder and her lips trembled against the hollow aloneness she knew awaited her.
“You’ve been lying here awhile, thinking,” he said quietly, the words hot on her skin. “About what?”
His comment caught her off guard. She hadn’t realized he’d been awake that long.
“You.” She twisted around. In the weak dawn light, his face was all hollows and shadows. She cradled his cheek in her palm, day-old stubble prickling her flesh. “I was thinking that you still haven’t promised me you’ll leave Sundown.”
“You’re right, I haven’t.”
“Josh—”
“That’s one promise you won’t get.” He sat up, dragging her with him as he propped his shoulder against one of the boat’s built-in benches. “We need to talk,” he added. “About a lot of things.”
“One being Etta.”
His brows rose. “What about Etta?”
“I should have asked you to call her last night.” Regan shoved a hand through her tousled hair. “She’d have been worried when I didn’t come home.”
“Her house was my first stop when I started looking for you. She told me you’d walked Doc Zink outside, so she k
new I went to find you. I imagine Etta figured you and I wound up together.”
But only for one night, Regan thought. She’d had the time with Josh she’d so desperately craved, and their future was now the past. It was no longer practical to think beyond the overwhelming present.
Suddenly conscious of her nakedness—and needing to shore up her defenses—she scooted from his hold, snagged one of the beach towels and wrapped it around herself, sarong-style. “I want to talk to Etta,” she said evenly. “Explain to her about…who I am. Everything. I’d like to do that before you take me to Decker.”
Josh studied her in the advancing dawn light. He saw the tension in the way she held her smooth, shapely shoulders, the strain in those exotically tilted cat’s eyes, the paleness in her cheeks. And he was very aware of what her edging from his touch and covering herself with the towel symbolized. Seeing her drawing in on herself, pulling back physically and emotionally had fresh emotion surging through him.
She had no way of knowing that throughout the night, while she’d drifted to sleep during the intervals between their love-making, he’d stayed awake, staring at the star-studded sky. He’d spent those sleepless hours trying to get a handle on how to best deal with her problems. As well as a few of his own.
Specifically, what was it about Regan Ford aka Susan Kincaid that had him turned inside out from the start? And why—before he even heard her side of things—had he brought her to the middle of the lake instead of transporting her to jail?
While he’d listened to her delicate breathing, he’d realized that somewhere over the short time they’d known each other, he had fallen in love. His descent had not been a gentle one onto a soft surface. No, he’d crashed down a cliff and landed on jagged rocks. Now he was helplessly, irrevocably in love.
He’d decided it had probably happened the moment he caught up with her jogging along the lake road and she’d whirled on him, looking strong and fierce, intent on taking him down with a tiny canister of Mace.